23619	----	THE ROYAL PICTURE ALPHABET OF HUMOUR AND DROLL MORAL TALES OR WORDS & THEIR MEANINGS ILLUSTRATED [Illustration] LONDON: WARD AND LOCK, 158, FLEET STREET. [Illustration: LAUGH and LEARN] [Illustration: The Royal Picture Alphabet.] POETICAL PREFACE TO THE ROYAL PICTURE ALPHABET. TO PRECEPTORS. With learning may laughter be found, "'Tis good to be merry and wise;" To gaily get over the ground, As higher and higher we rise. Some children their letters may learn, While others will surely do more, As the subjects suggestively turn To matters not thought of before. Descriptions and pictures combined Are here made attractive and clear; So suited that children may find From error the truth to appear. [Illustration] A a. +-----------------------+ | ABLUTION, | |_The Act of Cleansing_.| +-----------------------+ The little sweep has washed his face, But not as we advise: For black as soot he's made the soap, And rubbed it in his eyes. [Illustration] B b. +-------------------+ |BARTER, _Exchange_.| +-------------------+ Here's Master Mack presenting fruit, Of which he makes display; He knows he'll soon have Lucy's rope, And with it skip away. [Illustration] C c. +----------------------------+ |CATASTROPHE, _a Final Event_| | (_generally unhappy_). | +----------------------------+ "Oh here's a sad catastrophe!" Was Mrs. Blossom's cry-- Then--"Water! water! bring to me-- Or all my fish will die." [Illustration] D d. +-------------------+ | DELIGHTFUL, | |_easant, Charming_.| +-------------------+ These boys are bathing in the stream When they should be at school: The master's coming round to see Who disregards his rule. [Illustration] E e. +----------------------------+ | ECCENTRICITY, | |_Irregularity, Strangeness_.| +----------------------------+ We often see things seeming strange; But scarce so strange as this:-- Here everything is mis-applied, Here every change amiss. [Illustration] F f. +---------------------------------+ | FRAUD, | |_Deceit, Trick, Artifice, Cheat_.| +---------------------------------+ Here is Pat Murphy, fast asleep. And there is Neddy Bray: The thief a watchful eye doth keep Until he gets away. [Illustration] G g. +------------------------+ | GENIUS, | |_Mental Power, Faculty_.| +------------------------+ A little boy with little slate May sometimes make more clear The little thoughts that he would state Than can by words appear. [Illustration] H h. +----------------+ | HORROR, | |_Terror, Dread_.| +----------------+ This little harmless speckled frog Seems Lady Townsend's dread: I fear she'll run away and cry, And hide her silly head. [Illustration] I i. J j. +----------------------------+ | ICHABOD AT THE JAM. | | | |ICHABOD, _a Christian Name_.| |JAM, _a Conserve of Fruits_.| +----------------------------+ Enough is good, excess is bad: Yet Ichabod you see, Will with the jam his stomach cram, Until they disagree. [Illustration] K k. +-------------------------+ | KNOWING, | |_Conscious, Intelligent_.| +-------------------------+ Tho' horses know both beans and corn, And snuff them in the wind; They also all know Jemmy Small, And what he holds behind. [Illustration] L l. +-----------------------------+ | LUCKY, | |_Fortunate, Happy by Chance_.| +-----------------------------+ We must admire, in Lovebook's case. The prompt decision made: As he could not have gained the wood If time had been delayed. [Illustration] M m. +-----------------------+ | MIMIC, | |_Imitative, Burlesque_.| +-----------------------+ The Gentleman, who struts so fine, Unconscious seems to be Of Imitation by the boy Who has the street-door key. [Illustration] N n. +-----------------------------+ | NEGLIGENCE, | |_Heedlessness, Carelessness_.| +-----------------------------+ The character Tom Slowboy bears Would much against him tell-- For any work that's wanted done, Or even play done well. [Illustration] O o. +----------------------------+ | OBSTINACY, | |_Stubbornness, Waywardness_.| +----------------------------+ The obstinacy of the pig Is nature--as you see: But boys and girls who have a mind Should never stubborn be. [Illustration] P p. +-------------------------------+ | PETS, | |_Favourites, Spoilt Fondlings_.| +-------------------------------+ Some people say that Aunty Gray To animals is kind; We think, instead, they are over fed, And kept too much confined. [Illustration] Q q. +------------------------+ | QUANDARY, | |_A Doubt, a Difficulty_.| +------------------------+ Dame Partlet's in difficulty And looks around with doubt: Let's hope, as she some way got in, She may some way get out. [Illustration] R r. +-------------------------+ | RIVALRY, | |_Competition, Emulation_.| +-------------------------+ In every competition prize This should be kept in view-- Whoever wins should be the one Who does deserve it, too. [Illustration] S s. +---------------------------+ | SLUGGARD, | |_An Inactive, Lazy Fellow_.| +---------------------------+ To lie so many hours in bed You surely must be ill-- And need some physic, Master Ned, As birch, or draught, or pill! [Illustration] T t. +--------------------------+ | TOPSY-TURVY, | |_Upside Down, Bottom Top_.| +--------------------------+ Here's Topsy-Turvy, upside down, The ceiling seems the base: Reverse the ground and 'twill be found The things are out of place. [Illustration] U u. V v. +----------------------------------+ | UNCOMMON VEGETATION. | | | |UNCOMMON, _Rare, not Frequent_. | |VEGETATION, _the Power of Growth_.| +----------------------------------+ Th' uncommon vegetation, here, With art has much to do: The trees are nature, but the fruit Uncommon and untrue. [Illustration] W w. +---------------------------+ | WONDER, | |_Admiration, Astonishment_.| +---------------------------+ The wise may live and wonder still, However much they know, But simple Giles has wonder found Within the penny show. [Illustration] X x. +----------------------------------------+ |NO ENGLISH WORD BEGINS WITH THIS LETTER.| | XANTIPPE, | | _A Greek Matron, Wife of Socrates_. | +----------------------------------------+ Here's Socrates and Xantippe-- Philosopher and wife-- For gentleness renowned was he; She, better known for strife. [Illustration] Y y. +--------------------+ | YEARN, | |_To Grieve, to Vex_.| +--------------------+ Miss Cross has tried to reach the grapes, She's tried and tried again-- And now she's vexed to think that all Her efforts are in vain. [Illustration] Z z. +----------------------------+ | ZANY, | |_A Buffoon, a Merry Andrew_.| +----------------------------+ Here's Zany reading in a book-- With heels above his head-- And, judging by his laughing look, Finds fun in what he's read. MORAL TALES. ABLUTION.--Poor little fellow, you are certainly making comical faces: I fear the soap has got into your eyes, and that you will make that towel very black indeed. All boys, when they wash themselves, should take care to rinse off the soap and dirt before using the towel. To make the poor little sweep quite clean would take much washing. I should like to see the soap and water a little cleaner. Many of us have nice wash-stands and baths of marble, but this poor little fellow must make the best of what he can get. See how cleverly he has put a brick under the broken leg of the stool to prop it. I like to see boys clever and ingenious. BARTER.--Miss Lucy Hart was a nice girl, but rather thoughtless, little regarding any time but the present--new things in her eyes being the prettiest and the best;--thus, she would cast away old toys for new ones, as if she were not likely to want them again. See, Master George Mc Gregor is bartering for her skipping-rope; offering some fruit in exchange for it. The fruit he has picked off the tree without permission. I know Lucy's mamma will be vexed; for not only will the fruit soon be gone, and the skip-rope wanted again, but it was a present from Papa. The plaything cost far more than a little fruit, which will be quickly eaten, and possibly make Lucy unwell after so much as she has had to-day. CATASTROPHE.--Poor dear lady! has the cat tried to help himself to a gold fish, and overturned the handsome glass vase? Naughty Tom! greedy puss! I am sure kind Mrs. Blossom always feeds you well; and I think you know that you have done wrong, or you would not run so fast over the rails into Admiral Seaworth's garden, where he keeps his large dog Neptune, who may bark and send you back in a fright. Poor fish, see how they gasp!--run and fetch some water, or they will die. Men drown in water, but fish cannot live out of it. It is the nature of cats to catch mice and birds--so that we should keep our little favourites out of their reach. DELIGHTFUL.--These boys, I fear, are bathing without their parents' consent, which is very wrong, indeed. It is very pleasant in the water on a fine day; but little boys should not go there, as it might be deep, and they might become cramped in their limbs, and be drowned when no one was near, as many naughty boys have been before now. It is proper that boys should learn to swim, when with Papa or some kind friend, but not as these boys have. I feel just sure they have played the truant--as I see the village school-master, with his little dog, coming over the rustic bridge to catch them. I think that the letter D might, in this case, stand for Disobedient as well as Delightful. ECCENTRICITY.--What have we here?--a very odd, comical picture, indeed! What a strange fellow, to put his hat upon the fire, and a saucepan on his head. I do declare he has his trowsers and waistcoat on wrong side before. See, he has taken the poker for a walking-stick, put a greasy candle in the book, and the eggs upon the floor. Why a small baby-boy would not do this: the poor fellow must be out of his right mind. You may laugh at this odd picture for it is very ridiculous, and will hurt no one; but good children should never make sport of those who are deformed in mind or body, for it is not a fault but a misfortune to be so. FRAUD.--Patrick Murphy--commonly called, for shortness, Pat--was a very stupid little man; he reared pigs, and had he been sober, would have by this time saved a little property; but, no, Pat liked beer and strong drink: so that upon market-days he was far less sensible than his own jackass--which did know its way home--and for a long time took back foolish tipsy Pat safely; until one day, the roads being very bad, the cart came to a stop, and Neddy could pull no further. A rogue passing, seeing Pat asleep, unloosed the donkey from the cart, leaving Pat to awake, and much wonder what could have become of Neddy Bray, the donkey. It was very wrong of the man to take Pat's donkey, although Pat was a drunken fellow. GENIUS.--Bravo! my little Artist. I dare say if you try again you will improve upon your first attempt. All people should learn to draw, that they may be able to describe a form in a very few lines, making things intelligible at sight which could not be described in any other way. A little knowledge of drawing will lead to a love of pictures and delight in the beautiful works of nature. Giotto, a great painter, who lived many hundred years ago, was but a poor shepherd-boy, who amused himself by drawing portraits of his sheep as he tended them on the hills; from rude attempts he rose to be a great artist, whose works are treasured by kings and princes. I dare say you may some day see some of the works of Giotto, the great Italian painter. HORROR.--This drawing represents little Lady Selina Jemima Townsend as she appeared when afraid. Afraid--of what? Why, a poor tiny reptile, a harmless frog, that had jumped into her hat full of daisies, with a croak, as much as to say--"How do you do? Good morning, Lady Townsend; I am glad to see you down in the country." But what do you think she did? Why, the little lady scampered away as fast as she could to her governess, in whose dress she hid her face, crying,--saying she had seen "a nasty horrid thing." For this her governess reproved her, saying, "God created nothing in vain." Frogs are harmless and beautiful when in the water, through which they can swim and dive with wonderful ease. ICHABOD AT THE JAM.--Ichabod is an odd name, but such is the name of the little boy in the picture. He was much pampered by his parents, and never knew when he had had enough. Ichabod would cry for things to eat, then cry again because he could eat no more, and after all cry, because eating made him feel sick and ill: but that was not all; Ichabod was, I am ashamed to say, a thief. He stole the jam when his mother thought he was asleep in bed. See, Betty the maid has heard a noise, and caught the rogue in the act. To-morrow and for many days Ichabod will be ill in bed, and have to take much nasty physic. I wish he had _mis_-taken the mustard for honey, and burnt his naughty, fibbing tongue. KNOWING.--Ah! ah! Jemmy Small. I fear the steeds are too knowing for you to-day. They appear conscious: they would like the beans and corn you have in the sieve, but do not like the halter you are hiding behind your back. More than one has kicked up his heels, as much as to say--"Catch me if you can!" You seem to think, as you bite the straw in your mouth, that they may give you a pretty run. I know Bob, the pony, will not be soon caught. Horses and other animals like play much better than work, but good boys and girls ought to love both, and not require sweetmeats to induce them to do their duty--for they have intellects of a high order, and may become clever men and women. LUCKY.--Master Lovebook was indeed lucky in his escape from the Bull--and I will tell you how it happened: In going to school, this young gentleman had to go round by the wood and across the meadows, when one day he observed a savage bull making towards him; alarmed, he did not run crying anywhere, but considered one moment, and made back the shortest way to the wood, with all speed for the posts, just as the savage animal was going to toss him high in the air. Master Lovebook was unfortunate in meeting the bull, but fortunate in having the posts between him and the infuriated animal. In danger, brave little boys never cry, but think what is the best to be done. MIMIC.--To be vain of anything is not right, and to be proud of fine clothes very silly indeed. The young gentleman in the picture, I think, is vain. See, he is smoking a cigar, and if we may judge by the expression of his face, we may presume that he does not fully enjoy it. As he struts along the rude boys ridicule him. See the boy behind mimicking his airs and graces--using the handle of the door-key for an eye-glass. I fear that lad's mirth will soon be changed into sorrow--for the jug must be broken against the post, and the beer spilled--so that in turn he will be laughed at. We cannot help smiling at the little coxcomb, although at the same time we pity him. NEGLIGENCE.--Here is Tommy Slowboy, the lowest boy in the day-school, too idle to learn or even play. See how vacantly he stands gaping at the men clearing the snow from the house-tops, with his hand in his pocket because he has lost his glove, having placed the hot shoulder of mutton down in the cold snow. No wonder the first dog passing helps itself to the joint. Tom will not only be chid, but have to go without his dinner. Yet, what cares Tom for scolding or anything else, he who is so neglectful of duty? Mind that you strive to learn early, that you may become wise and happy hereafter. Look at the picture of Tommy Slowboy, and avoid apathy and indolence. OBSTINACY.--Obstinacy is a sad thing. See the naughty Pig in the picture, how he pulls in the opposite direction. Master Pig will be obliged to go into the sty, and very likely get the whip for his pains; like a wayward child that gets chid for disobedience. I hope there are very few disobedient young ladies and gentlemen, like the perverse pig. The pig is a stupid animal: but I have heard of a learned pig that could tell his letters, pointing to them with his snout; but most swine are dirty in their ways, and not at all particular--little caring so long as they can eat, grunt, and sleep. The pig will often lie in the dirtiest corner of his house, and stand in its trough of food. PETS.--Here is a portrait of Aunt Gray feeding her Pets, or rather stuffing the poor monkey. Some people say Miss Gray is kind to animals, but I do not think so, for she keeps her pets prisoners--feeding them too much, and all for her own pleasure, until they become like spoilt children, peevish, and always wanting sweet things. Kind children love animals, and delight to see them free. In the Zoological Gardens animals are not pets; they have there plenty of room, and are nicely kept for our instruction. See, poor Jacko, the monkey, has grown too fat to leap, as in his native woods he used, from bough to bough. The poor gold fish have hardly room to turn in their glass prison: how they would enjoy a swim in the garden pond! QUANDARY.--Poor Dame Partlet having got into the back yard cannot get out again. She is in a Quandary, for she fears the dogs will bite her--though their chains are not long enough. Keeper, the mastiff, is a noble fellow, and would not hurt women or children; neither would Nero, the bull-dog; he would rather face a lion or a wild ox: whilst Snap, the terrier, barks and snarls in the company of his brave companions. Little boys and girls should not touch strange dogs, for they sometimes snap at those who are not familiar to them. To take food from dogs is not prudent, for they growl, bite, and are ill-tempered, like a little fellow would be if deprived of his dinner, after he had tasted the first morsel. RIVALRY.--To compete for good is famous--such as little boys rivalling one another in a race up the Ladder of Learning--that is exercise of the mind. Here we have a picture of country boys exercising their strength--climbing up a pole covered with grease, for a prize of food for the body. The boy that wins the leg of mutton will be the hero of the fair, and be carried round the place on the shoulders of the men. See how they strive and tear to win the prize. I should not wonder if they all slipped down together, notwithstanding the encouraging cheers of the crowd. See how the man on the housetop swings his hat in the air, and the people applaud. A few inches higher, and the prize is won. SLUGGARD.--Heavy-headed, sleepy Ned, awake, arise! You lazy fellow! Look at the clock! Eight hours' rest is enough for any little boy--and here you have taken nearly fourteen. All Sluggards should get their slates, and calculate how much time they waste every year--weeks that can never be regained. If you only lie in bed two hours later than you should every day, you lose more than one day in a week, or sixty-four days in the course of the year: which, at the end of seventy years, would be awful indeed! Twelve whole years lost! Lazy, idle people, never seem to have time for anything: industrious ones, time for anything and everything. I hope when little Ned sees his portrait he will be shocked with his appearance, and reform his ways. TOPSY-TURVY.--Well, of all the funny pictures in this droll book I think this the drollest--a big letter T resting on its top on the ceiling, like in an overturned doll's house, or a view taken by an artist standing upon his head. Turn it over, and see how comical it looks--everything appears to have lost its gravity. _Gravity_ means the power that holds us to the earth (as Papa's loadstone attracts the needle): if it were not for gravity, we could not move about. Some day you shall read in that nice book called the "Evenings at Home," about gravity, and why an apple falls to the ground. A great philosopher, Sir Isaac Newton, discovered why, as he lay under a tree. At a future time you will learn about gravity and many other things. UNCOMMON VEGETATION.--Uncle Periwinkle was very kind; he loved nature and his nephews dearly. He wore green spectacles, a dressing-gown all covered with leaves, and a large straw hat; in fact he was very fond of gardening, and reared all kinds of odd plants--this his nephews knew, and determined to play a joke upon him--not a cruel, heartless joke, that would hurt or destroy anything: no! they were too kind for that. They only carefully tied the carpenter's planes upon the plane-tree, as if it were fruit--and some little boxes of all colours upon the box-tree, like blossom; so that when the old gentleman beheld it, he exclaimed--"Uncommon Vegetation!" upon which John and Walter came laughing out of the greenhouse to receive a bunch of fine grapes for their pleasant joke. WONDER.--So, Master Ploughboy Giles, you are spending your penny and your holiday at the fair. You seem not a little astonished at what you have seen in that peep-show. Surely you cannot imagine that they are real; it is the magnifying power of the glasses that makes the pictures appear so large. The pyramids of Egypt are the largest stone buildings in the world, and the oldest; the Behemoth, a huge animal that existed thousands of years ago (but I do not think it had wings like a butterfly, as in the showman's picture); Daniel Lambert was an enormously fat man, who died a long time back. All these things must be in miniature if they are to be seen in that small box, very little larger than a dog's house. XANTIPPE.--The comical event pictured here occurred more than two thousand years ago: Xantippe, the wife of the great and good philosopher Socrates, continually tormented him with her ill-humour--using him very cruelly--one day emptying a vessel of dirty water over her celebrated husband, whom she ought to have loved: he only remarked, that "after thunder there generally falls rain." Socrates lived in the refined city of Athens; he was one of the most eminent philosophers of Greece; he was very plain in person, as you perceive by the picture: but a man may be great and good, yet ugly, as Socrates was. The philosopher had enemies who sought his destruction; he was killed with poison. After his death his accusers were despised, as you will read in ancient history some day. YEARN.--What have we here? Little Miss Cross vexed, just because she cannot get at the grapes. I am sure I should not like to have my portrait drawn with such a sullen face. She has been trying to take fruit without her aunt's permission, that very likely is unripe and improper for her. The walk in a delightful garden ought not to make her long to eat all the fruit she sets eyes upon, or wish to pick the sweet flowers, that last much longer upon the plants than when plucked. I perceive that the peevish young lady in the picture has been picking the flowers. See, they are strewn upon the seat beside her, under those dirty feet that have trodden down the beds of mould. I am afraid Miss Cross cannot be a joyous, happy child, because disobedient. ZANY.--Finis is the Latin word for finish, and here it is the last droll picture--a Zany laughing at his portrait in this comical book, which he seems vastly to enjoy. What a droll fellow, to read with his head where his heels should be, like the clown in the pantomime. Look at his staff, the cock and bells, with which he dances, making a jingling noise. A Zany is not an idiot, but often a funny clever fellow, paid to make people laugh. We all like a good laugh sometimes. Many years ago kings used to keep jesters to amuse the company; King Henry the Eighth had a clever jester, called Will Somers, whose portrait was painted by a great artist named Holbein, which is now in the palace at Hampton Court, and may be seen by those who love pictures. 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"Suited to the youthful mind, and calculated to assist Instructors, filled as it is with really good Diagrams and Drawings elucidatory of the text."--_Globe._ * * * * * LONDON: WARD AND LOCK, 158, FLEET STREET AND ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
2646	----	JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER By William Makepeace Thackeray * Reprinted from the Quarterly Review, No. 191, Dec. 1854, by permission of Mr. John Murray. We, who can recall the consulship of Plancus, and quite respectable, old-fogyfied times, remember amongst other amusements which we had as children the pictures at which we were permitted to look. There was Boydell's Shakspeare, black and ghastly gallery of murky Opies, glum Northcotes, straddling Fuselis! there were Lear, Oberon, Hamlet, with starting muscles, rolling eyeballs, and long pointing quivering fingers; there was little Prince Arthur (Northcote) crying, in white satin, and bidding good Hubert not put out his eyes; there was Hubert crying; there was little Rutland being run through the poor little body by bloody Clifford; there was Cardinal Beaufort (Reynolds) gnashing his teeth, and grinning and howling demoniacally on his death-bed (a picture frightful to the present day); there was Lady Hamilton (Romney) waving a torch, and dancing before a black background,--a melancholy museum indeed. Smirke's delightful "Seven Ages" only fitfully relieved its general gloom. We did not like to inspect it unless the elders were present, and plenty of lights and company were in the room. Cheerful relatives used to treat us to Miss Linwood's. Let the children of the present generation thank their stars THAT tragedy is put out of their way. Miss Linwood's was worsted-work. Your grandmother or grandaunts took you there and said the pictures were admirable. You saw "the Woodman" in worsted, with his axe and dog, trampling through the snow; the snow bitter cold to look at, the woodman's pipe wonderful: a gloomy piece, that made you shudder. There were large dingy pictures of woollen martyrs, and scowling warriors with limbs strongly knitted; there was especially, at the end of a black passage, a den of lions, that would frighten any boy not born in Africa, or Exeter 'Change, and accustomed to them. Another exhibition used to be West's Gallery, where the pleasing figures of Lazarus in his grave-clothes, and Death on the pale horse, used to impress us children. The tombs of Westminster Abbey, the vaults at St. Paul's, the men in armor at the Tower, frowning ferociously out of their helmets, and wielding their dreadful swords; that superhuman Queen Elizabeth at the end of the room, a livid sovereign with glass eyes, a ruff, and a dirty satin petticoat, riding a horse covered with steel: who does not remember these sights in London in the consulship of Plancus? and the wax-work in Fleet Street, not like that of Madame Tussaud's, whose chamber of death is gay and brilliant; but a nice old gloomy wax-work, full of murderers; and as a chief attraction, the Dead Baby and the Princess Charlotte lying in state? Our story-books had no pictures in them for the most part. Frank (dear old Frank!) had none; nor the "Parent's Assistant;" nor the "Evenings at Home;" nor our copy of the "Ami des Enfans:" there were a few just at the end of the Spelling-Book; besides the allegory at the beginning, of Education leading up Youth to the temple of Industry, where Dr. Dilworth and Professor Walkinghame stood with crowns of laurel. There were, we say, just a few pictures at the end of the Spelling-Book, little oval gray woodcuts of Bewick's, mostly of the Wolf and the Lamb, the Dog and the Shadow, and Brown, Jones, and Robinson with long ringlets and little tights; but for pictures, so to speak, what had we? The rough old wood-blocks in the old harlequin-backed fairy-books had served hundreds of years; before OUR Plancus, in the time of Priscus Plancus--in Queen Anne's time, who knows? We were flogged at school; we were fifty boys in our boarding-house, and had to wash in a leaden trough, under a cistern, with lumps of fat yellow soap floating about in the ice and water. Are OUR sons ever flogged? Have they not dressing-rooms, hair-oil, hip-baths, and Baden towels? And what picture-books the young villains have! What have these children done that they should be so much happier than we were? We had the "Arabian Nights" and Walter Scott, to be sure. Smirke's illustrations to the former are very fine. We did not know how good they were then; but we doubt whether we did not prefer the little old "Miniature Library Nights" with frontispieces by Uwins; for THESE books the pictures don't count. Every boy of imagination does his own pictures to Scott and the "Arabian Nights" best. Of funny pictures there were none especially intended for us children. There was Rowlandson's "Doctor Syntax": Doctor Syntax in a fuzz-wig, on a horse with legs like sausages, riding races, making love, frolicking with rosy exuberant damsels. Those pictures were very funny, and that aquatinting and the gay-colored plates very pleasant to witness; but if we could not read the poem in those days, could we digest it in this? Nevertheless, apart from the text which we could not master, we remember Doctor Syntax pleasantly, like those cheerful painted hieroglyphics in the Nineveh Court at Sydenham. What matter for the arrow-head, illegible stuff? give us the placid grinning kings, twanging their jolly bows over their rident horses, wounding those good-humored enemies, who tumble gayly off the towers, or drown, smiling, in the dimpling waters, amidst the anerithmon gelasma of the fish. After Doctor Syntax, the apparition of Corinthian Tom, Jerry Hawthorn, and the facetious Bob Logic must be recorded--a wondrous history indeed theirs was! When the future student of our manners comes to look over the pictures and the writing of these queer volumes, what will he think of our society, customs, and language in the consulship of Plancus? "Corinthian," it appears, was the phrase applied to men of fashion and ton in Plancus's time: they were the brilliant predecessors of the "swell" of the present period--brilliant, but somewhat barbarous, it must be confessed. The Corinthians were in the habit of drinking a great deal too much in Tom Cribb's parlor: they used to go and see "life" in the gin-shops; of nights, walking home (as well as they could), they used to knock down "Charleys," poor harmless old watchmen with lanterns, guardians of the streets of Rome, Planco Consule. They perpetrated a vast deal of boxing; they put on the "mufflers" in Jackson's rooms; they "sported their prads" in the Ring in the Park; they attended cock-fights, and were enlightened patrons of dogs and destroyers of rats. Besides these sports, the delassemens of gentlemen mixing with the people, our patricians, of course, occasionally enjoyed the society of their own class. What a wonderful picture that used to be of Corinthian Tom dancing with Corinthian Kate at Almack's! What a prodigious dress Kate wore! With what graceful ABANDON the pair flung their arms about as they swept through the mazy quadrille, with all the noblemen standing round in their stars and uniforms! You may still, doubtless, see the pictures at the British Museum, or find the volumes in the corner of some old country-house library. You are led to suppose that the English aristocracy of 1820 DID dance and caper in that way, and box and drink at Tom Cribb's, and knock down watchmen; and the children of to-day, turning to their elders, may say "Grandmamma, did you wear such a dress as that, when you danced at Almack's? There was very little of it, grandmamma. Did grandpapa kill many watchmen when he was a young man, and frequent thieves' gin-shops, cock-fights, and the ring, before you married him? Did he use to talk the extraordinary slang and jargon which is printed in this book? He is very much changed. He seems a gentlemanly old boy enough now." In the above-named consulate, when WE had grandfathers alive, there would be in the old gentleman's library in the country two or three old mottled portfolios, or great swollen scrap-books of blue paper, full of the comic prints of grandpapa's time, ere Plancus ever had the fasces borne before him. These prints were signed Gilray, Bunbury, Rowlandson, Woodward, and some actually George Cruikshank--for George is a veteran now, and he took the etching needle in hand as a child. He caricatured "Boney," borrowing not a little from Gilray in his first puerile efforts. He drew Louis XVIII. trying on Boney's boots. Before the century was actually in its teens we believe that George Cruikshank was amusing the public. In those great colored prints in our grandfathers' portfolios in the library, and in some other apartments of the house, where the caricatures used to be pasted in those days, we found things quite beyond our comprehension. Boney was represented as a fierce dwarf, with goggle eyes, a huge laced hat and tricolored plume, a crooked sabre, reeking with blood: a little demon revelling in lust, murder, massacre. John Bull was shown kicking him a good deal: indeed he was prodigiously kicked all through that series of pictures; by Sidney Smith and our brave allies the gallant Turks; by the excellent and patriotic Spaniards; by the amiable and indignant Russians,--all nations had boots at the service of poor Master Boney. How Pitt used to defy him! How good old George, King of Brobdingnag, laughed at Gulliver-Boney, sailing about in his tank to make sport for their Majesties! This little fiend, this beggar's brat, cowardly, murderous, and atheistic as he was (we remember, in those old portfolios, pictures representing Boney and his family in rags, gnawing raw bones in a Corsican hut; Boney murdering the sick at Jaffa; Boney with a hookah and a large turban, having adopted the Turkish religion, &c.)--this Corsican monster, nevertheless, had some devoted friends in England, according to the Gilray chronicle,--a set of villains who loved atheism, tyranny, plunder, and wickedness in general, like their French friend. In the pictures these men were all represented as dwarfs, like their ally. The miscreants got into power at one time, and, if we remember right, were called the Broad-backed Administration. One with shaggy eyebrows and a bristly beard, the hirsute ringleader of the rascals, was, it appears, called Charles James Fox; another miscreant, with a blotched countenance, was a certain Sheridan; other imps were hight Erskine, Norfolk (Jockey of), Moira, Henry Petty. As in our childish, innocence we used to look at these demons, now sprawling and tipsy in their cups; now scaling heaven, from which the angelic Pitt hurled them down; now cursing the light (their atrocious ringleader Fox was represented with hairy cloven feet, and a tail and horns); now kissing Boney's boot, but inevitably discomfited by Pitt and the other good angels: we hated these vicious wretches, as good children should; we were on the side of Virtue and Pitt and Grandpapa. But if our sisters wanted to look at the portfolios, the good old grandfather used to hesitate. There were some prints among them very odd indeed; some that girls could not understand; some that boys, indeed, had best not see. We swiftly turn over those prohibited pages. How many of them there were in the wild, coarse, reckless, ribald, generous book of old English humor! How savage the satire was--how fierce the assault--what garbage hurled at opponents--what foul blows were hit--what language of Billingsgate flung! Fancy a party in a country-house now looking over Woodward's facetiae or some of the Gilray comicalities, or the slatternly Saturnalia of Rowlandson! Whilst we live we must laugh, and have folks to make us laugh. We cannot afford to lose Satyr with his pipe and dances and gambols. But we have washed, combed, clothed, and taught the rogue good manners: or rather, let us say, he has learned them himself; for he is of nature soft and kindly, and he has put aside his mad pranks and tipsy habits; and, frolicsome always, has become gentle and harmless, smitten into shame by he pure presence of our women and the sweet confiding smiles of our children. Among the veterans, the old pictorial satirists, we have mentioned the famous name of one humorous designer who is still alive and at work. Did we not see, by his own hand, his own portrait of his own famous face, and whiskers, in the Illustrated London News the other day? There was a print in that paper of an assemblage of Teetotalers in "Sadler's Wells Theatre," and we straightway recognized the old Roman hand--the old Roman's of the time of Plancus--George Cruikshank's. There were the old bonnets and droll faces and shoes, and short trousers, and figures of 1820 sure enough. And there was George (who has taken to the water-doctrine, as all the world knows) handing some teetotal cresses over a plank to the table where the pledge was being administered. How often has George drawn that picture of Cruikshank! Where haven't we seen it? How fine it was, facing the effigy of Mr. Ainsworth in Ainsworth's Magazine when George illustrated that periodical! How grand and severe he stands in that design in G. C.'s "Omnibus," where he represents himself tonged like St. Dunstan, and tweaking a wretch of a publisher by the nose! The collectors of George's etchings--oh the charming etchings!--oh the dear old "German Popular Tales!"--the capital "Points of Humor"--the delightful "Phrenology" and "Scrap-books," of the good time, OUR time--Plancus's in fact!--the collectors of the Georgian etchings, we say, have at least a hundred pictures of the artist. Why, we remember him in his favorite Hessian boots in "Tom and Jerry" itself; and in woodcuts as far back as the Queen's trial. He has rather deserted satire and comedy of late years, having turned his attention to the serious, and warlike, and sublime. Having confessed our age and prejudices, we prefer the comic and fanciful to the historic, romantic, and at present didactic George. May respect, and length of days, and comfortable repose attend the brave, honest, kindly, pure-minded artist, humorist, moralist! It was he first who brought English pictorial humor and children acquainted. Our young people and their fathers and mothers owe him many a pleasant hour and harmless laugh. Is there no way in which the country could acknowledge the long services and brave career of such a friend and benefactor? Since George's time humor has been converted. Comus and his wicked satyrs and leering fauns have disappeared, and fled into the lowest haunts; and Comus's lady (if she had a taste for humor, which may be doubted) might take up our funny picture-books without the slightest precautionary squeamishness. What can be purer than the charming fancies of Richard Doyle? In all Mr. Punch's huge galleries can't we walk as safely as through Miss Pinkerton's schoolrooms? And as we look at Mr. Punch's pictures, at the Illustrated News pictures, at all the pictures in the book-shop windows at this Christmas season, as oldsters, we feel a certain pang of envy against the youngsters--they are too well off. Why hadn't WE picture-books? Why were we flogged so? A plague on the lictors and their rods in the time of Plancus! And now, after this rambling preface, we are arrived at the subject in hand--Mr. John Leech and his "Pictures of Life and Character," in the collection of Mr. Punch. This book is better than plum-cake at Christmas. It is an enduring plum-cake, which you may eat and which you may slice and deliver to your friends; and to which, having cut it, you may come again and welcome, from year's end to year's end. In the frontispiece you see Mr. Punch examining the pictures in his gallery--a portly, well-dressed, middle-aged, respectable gentleman, in a white neck-cloth, and a polite evening costume--smiling in a very bland and agreeable manner upon one of his pleasant drawings, taken out of one of his handsome portfolios. Mr. Punch has very good reason to smile at the work and be satisfied with the artist. Mr. Leech, his chief contributor, and some kindred humorists, with pencil and pen have served Mr. Punch admirably. Time was, if we remember Mr. P.'s history rightly, that he did not wear silk stockings nor well-made clothes (the little dorsal irregularity in his figure is almost an ornament now, so excellent a tailor has he). He was of humble beginnings. It is said he kept a ragged little booth, which he put up at corners of streets; associated with beadles, policemen, his own ugly wife (whom he treated most scandalously), and persons in a low station of life; earning a precarious livelihood by the cracking of wild jokes, the singing of ribald songs, and halfpence extorted from passers-by. He is the Satyric genius we spoke of anon: he cracks his jokes still, for satire must live; but he is combed, washed, neatly clothed, and perfectly presentable. He goes into the very best company; he keeps a stud at Melton; he has a moor in Scotland; he rides in the Park; has his stall at the Opera; is constantly dining out at clubs and in private society; and goes every night in the season to balls and parties, where you see the most beautiful women possible. He is welcomed amongst his new friends the great; though, like the good old English gentleman of the song, he does not forget the small. He pats the heads of street boys and girls; relishes the jokes of Jack the costermonger and Bob the dustman; good-naturedly spies out Molly the cook flirting with policeman X, or Mary the nursemaid as she listens to the fascinating guardsman. He used rather to laugh at guardsmen, "plungers," and other military men; and was until latter days very contemptuous in his behavior towards Frenchmen. He has a natural antipathy to pomp, and swagger, and fierce demeanor. But now that the guardsmen are gone to war, and the dandies of "The Rag"--dandies no more--are battling like heroes at Balaklava and Inkermann* by the side of their heroic allies, Mr. Punch's laughter is changed to hearty respect and enthusiasm. It is not against courage and honor he wars: but this great moralist--must it be owned?--has some popular British prejudices, and these led him in peace time to laugh at soldiers and Frenchmen. If those hulking footmen who accompanied the carriages to the opening of Parliament the other day, would form a plush brigade, wear only gunpowder in their hair, and strike with their great canes on the enemy, Mr. Punch would leave off laughing at Jeames, who meanwhile remains among us, to all outward appearance regardless of satire, and calmly consuming his five meals per diem. Against lawyers, beadles, bishops and clergy, and authorities, Mr. Punch is still rather bitter. At the time of the Papal aggression he was prodigiously angry; and one of the chief misfortunes which happened to him at that period was that, through the violent opinions which he expressed regarding the Roman Catholic hierarchy, he lost the invaluable services, the graceful pencil, the harmless wit, the charming fancy of Mr. Doyle. Another member of Mr. Punch's cabinet, the biographer of Jeames, the author of the "Snob Papers," resigned his functions on account of Mr. Punch's assaults upon the present Emperor of the French nation, whose anger Jeames thought it was unpatriotic to arouse. Mr. Punch parted with these contributors: he filled their places with others as good. The boys at the railroad stations cried Punch just as cheerily, and sold just as many numbers, after these events as before. * This was written in 1854. There is no blinking the fact that in Mr. Punch's cabinet John Leech is the right-hand man. Fancy a number of Punch without Leech's pictures! What would you give for it? The learned gentlemen who write the work must feel that, without him, it were as well left alone. Look at the rivals whom the popularity of Punch has brought into the field; the direct imitators of Mr. Leech's manner--the artists with a manner of their own--how inferior their pencils are to his in humor, in depicting the public manners, in arresting, amusing the nation. The truth, the strength, the free vigor, the kind humor, the John Bull pluck and spirit of that hand are approached by no competitor. With what dexterity he draws a horse, a woman, a child! He feels them all, so to speak, like a man. What plump young beauties those are with which Mr. Punch's chief contributor supplies the old gentleman's pictorial harem! What famous thews and sinews Mr. Punch's horses have, and how Briggs, on the back of them, scampers across country! You see youth, strength, enjoyment, manliness in those drawings, and in none more so, to our thinking, than in the hundred pictures of children which this artist loves to design. Like a brave, hearty, good-natured Briton, he becomes quite soft and tender with the little creatures, pats gently their little golden heads, and watches with unfailing pleasure their ways, their sports, their jokes, laughter, caresses. Enfans terribles come home from Eton; young Miss practising her first flirtation; poor little ragged Polly making dirt-pies in the gutter, or staggering under the weight of Jacky, her nursechild, who is as big as herself--all these little ones, patrician and plebeian, meet with kindness from this kind heart, and are watched with curious nicety by this amiable observer. We remember, in one of those ancient Gilray portfolios, a print which used to cause a sort of terror in us youthful spectators, and in which the Prince of Wales (his Royal Highness was a Foxite then) was represented as sitting alone in a magnificent hall after a voluptuous meal, and using a great steel fork in the guise of a toothpick. Fancy the first young gentleman living employing such a weapon in such a way! The most elegant Prince of Europe engaged with a two-pronged iron fork--the heir of Britannia with a BIDENT! The man of genius who drew that picture saw little of the society which he satirized and amused. Gilray watched public characters as they walked by the shop in St. James's Street, or passed through the lobby of the House of Commons. His studio was a garret, or little better; his place of amusement a tavern-parlor, where his club held its nightly sittings over their pipes and sanded floor. You could not have society represented by men to whom it was not familiar. When Gavarni came to England a few years since--one of the wittiest of men, one of the most brilliant and dexterous of draughtsmen--he published a book of "Les Anglais," and his Anglais were all Frenchmen. The eye, so keen and so long practised to observe Parisian life, could not perceive English character. A social painter must be of the world which he depicts, and native to the manners which he portrays. Now, any one who looks over Mr. Leech's portfolio must see that the social pictures which he gives us are authentic. What comfortable little drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, what snug libraries we enter; what fine young-gentlemanly wags they are, those beautiful little dandies who wake up gouty old grandpapa to ring the bell; who decline aunt's pudding and custards, saying that they will reserve themselves for an anchovy toast with the claret; who talk together in ball-room doors, where Fred whispers Charley--pointing to a dear little partner seven years old--"My dear Charley, she has very much gone off; you should have seen that girl last season!" Look well at everything appertaining to the economy of the famous Mr. Briggs: how snug, quiet, appropriate all the appointments are! What a comfortable, neat, clean, middle-class house Briggs's is (in the Bayswater suburb of London, we should guess from the sketches of the surrounding scenery)! What a good stable he has, with a loose box for those celebrated hunters which he rides! How pleasant, clean, and warm his breakfast-table looks! What a trim little maid brings in the top-boots which horrify Mrs. B! What a snug dressing-room he has, complete in all its appointments, and in which he appears trying on the delightful hunting-cap which Mrs. Briggs flings into the fire! How cosy all the Briggs party seem in their dining-room: Briggs reading a Treatise on Dog-breaking by a lamp; Mamma and Grannie with their respective needleworks; the children clustering round a great book of prints--a great book of prints such as this before us, which, at this season, must make thousands of children happy by as many firesides! The inner life of all these people is represented: Leech draws them as naturally as Teniers depicts Dutch boors, or Morland pigs and stables. It is your house and mine: we are looking at everybody's family circle. Our boys coming from school give themselves such airs, the young scapegraces! our girls, going to parties, are so tricked out by fond mammas--a social history of London in the middle of the nineteenth century. As such, future students--lucky they to have a book so pleasant--will regard these pages: even the mutations of fashion they may follow here if they be so inclined. Mr. Leech has as fine an eye for tailory and millinery as for horse-flesh. How they change those cloaks and bonnets. How we have to pay milliners' bills from year to year! Where are those prodigious chatelaines of 1850 which no lady could be without? Where those charming waistcoats, those "stunning" waistcoats, which our young girls used to wear a few brief seasons back, and which cause 'Gus, in the sweet little sketch of "La Mode," to ask Ellen for her tailor's address. 'Gus is a young warrior by this time, very likely facing the enemy at Inkerman; and pretty Ellen, and that love of a sister of hers, are married and happy, let us hope, superintending one of those delightful nursery scenes which our artist depicts with such tender humor. Fortunate artist, indeed! You see he must have been bred at a good public school; that he has ridden many a good horse in his day; paid, no doubt, out of his own purse for the originals of some of those lovely caps and bonnets; and watched paternally the ways, smiles, frolics, and slumbers of his favorite little people. As you look at the drawings, secrets come out of them,--private jokes, as it were, imparted to you by the author for your special delectation. How remarkably, for instance, has Mr. Leech observed the hair-dressers of the present age! Look at "Mr. Tongs," whom that hideous old bald woman, who ties on her bonnet at the glass, informs that "she has used the whole bottle of Balm of California, but her hair comes off yet." You can see the bear's-grease not only on Tongs's head but on his hands, which he is clapping clammily together. Remark him who is telling his client "there is cholera in the hair;" and that lucky rogue whom the young lady bids to cut off "a long thick piece"--for somebody, doubtless. All these men are different, and delightfully natural and absurd. Why should hair-dressing be an absurd profession? The amateur will remark what an excellent part hands play in Mr. Leech's pieces: his admirable actors use them with perfect naturalness. Look at Betty, putting the urn down; at cook, laying her hands on the kitchen table, whilst her policeman grumbles at the cold meat. They are cook's and housemaid's hands without mistake, and not without a certain beauty too. The bald old lady, who is tying her bonnet at Tongs's, has hands which you see are trembling. Watch the fingers of the two old harridans who are talking scandal: for what long years past they have pointed out holes in their neighbors' dresses and mud on their flounces. "Here's a go! I've lost my diamond ring." As the dustman utters this pathetic cry, and looks at his hand, you burst out laughing. These are among the little points of humor. One could indicate hundreds of such as one turns over the pleasant pages. There is a little snob or gent, whom we all of us know, who wears little tufts on his little chin, outrageous pins and pantaloons, smokes cigars on tobacconists' counters, sucks his cane in the streets, struts about with Mrs. Snob and the baby (Mrs. S. an immense woman, whom Snob nevertheless bullies), who is a favorite abomination of Leech, and pursued by that savage humorist into a thousand of his haunts. There he is, choosing waistcoats at the tailor's--such waistcoats! Yonder he is giving a shilling to the sweeper who calls him "Capting;" now he is offering a paletot to a huge giant who is going out in the rain. They don't know their own pictures, very likely; if they did, they would have a meeting, and thirty or forty of them would be deputed to thrash Mr. Leech. One feels a pity for the poor little bucks. In a minute or two, when we close this discourse and walk the streets, we shall see a dozen such. Ere we shut the desk up, just one word to point out to the unwary specially to note the backgrounds of landscapes in Leech's drawings--homely drawings of moor and wood, and seashore and London street--the scenes of his little dramas. They are as excellently true to nature as the actors themselves; our respect for the genius and humor which invented both increases as we look and look again at the designs. May we have more of them; more pleasant Christmas volumes, over which we and our children can laugh together. Can we have too much of truth, and fun, and beauty, and kindness? 
34588	----	Production Notes: All obvious punctuation errors have been corrected. Pg. 22. A period was removed from the end of the title to conform to the pattern of the other title pages. * * * * * SOME OF ÆSOP'S FABLES WITH MODERN INSTANCES [Illustration] SOME OF ÆSOP'S FABLES WITH MODERN INSTANCES SHEWN IN DESIGNS BY RANDOLPH CALDECOTT FROM NEW TRANSLATIONS BY ALFRED CALDECOTT, M.A. THE ENGRAVINGS BY J.D. COOPER London MACMILLAN AND CO. 1883 _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. INDEX. NUMBER PAGE I. THE FOX AND THE CROW 1 II. THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN 5 III. THE FISHERMAN AND THE LITTLE FISH 9 IV. THE JACKDAW AND THE DOVES 13 V. THE COPPERSMITH AND HIS PUPPY 17 VI. THE FROGS DESIRING A KING 21 VII. THE DOG AND THE WOLF 25 VIII. THE STAG LOOKING INTO THE WATER 29 IX. THE FROGS AND THE FIGHTING BULLS 33 X. THE LION AND OTHER BEASTS 37 XI. THE FOX AND THE STORK 41 XII. THE HORSE AND THE STAG 45 XIII. THE COCK AND THE JEWEL 49 XIV. THE ASS, THE LION, AND THE COCK 53 XV. THE WOLF AND THE LAMB 57 XVI. THE MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES 61 XVII. THE FOX WITHOUT A TAIL 65 XVIII. THE EAGLE AND THE FOX 69 XIX. THE OX AND THE FROG 73 XX. THE HAWK CHASING THE DOVE 77 NOTE. Sixteen of these Twenty Fables have been handed down to us in a Greek form: for these Halm's text has been used. As to the other four--Number IX. is from Phaedrus, and retains a flavour of artificiality; Numbers XIII. and XX. are from Latin versions; and Number X. is from a French one. The Translations aim at replacing the florid style of our older English versions, and the stilted harshness of more modern ones, by a plainness and terseness more nearly like the character of the originals. In the following cases the Translations have been adapted to the Designs. In Number I. _cheese_ has been put for _meat_; in Number VIII. a _pack of Hounds_ for a _Lion_; in Number XI. a _Stork_ for a _Crane_; in Number XIX. a _Frog_ for a _Toad_; and in Number VII. the Dog should be _tied up_. The reason of this is, that in the collaboration the Designer and Translator have not been on terms of equal authority; the former has stood unshakeably by English tradition, and has had his own way. A.C. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FOX AND THE CROW [Illustration] THE FOX AND THE CROW. A Crow stole a piece of cheese and alighted with it on a tree. A Fox watched her, and wishing to get hold of the cheese stood underneath and began to make compliments upon her size and beauty; he went so far as to say that she had the best of claims to be made Queen of the Birds, and doubtless it would have been done if she had only had a voice. The Crow, anxious to prove to him that she did possess a voice, began to caw vigorously, of course dropping the cheese. The Fox pounced upon it and carried it off, remarking as he went away, "My good friend Crow, you have every good quality: now try to get some common sense." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN [Illustration] THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN. An Ass who had dressed himself up in a Lion's skin was mistaken by everybody for a lion, and there was a stampede of both herds and men. But presently the skin was whisked off by a gust of wind, and the Ass stood exposed; and then the men all charged at him, and with sticks and cudgels gave him a sound drubbing. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FISHERMAN AND THE LITTLE FISH [Illustration] THE FISHERMAN AND THE LITTLE FISH. A Fisherman cast his net and caught a little Fish. The little Fish begged him to let him go for the present, as he was so small, and to catch him again to more purpose later on, when he was bulkier. But the Fisherman said: "Nay, I should be a very simpleton to let go a good thing I have got and run after a doubtful expectation." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE JACKDAW AND THE DOVES [Illustration] THE JACKDAW AND THE DOVES. A Jackdaw observing how well cared for were the Doves in a certain dovecote, whitewashed himself and went to take a part in the same way of living. The Doves were friendly enough so long as he kept silence, taking him for one of themselves; but when he once forgot himself and gave a croak they immediately perceived his character, and cuffed him out. So the Jackdaw, having failed in getting a share of good things there, returned to his brother Jackdaws. But these latter not recognising him, because of his colour, kept him out of their mess also; so that in his desire for two things he got neither. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE COPPERSMITH AND HIS PUPPY [Illustration] THE COPPERSMITH AND HIS PUPPY. A certain Coppersmith had a Puppy. While the Coppersmith was at work the Puppy lay asleep; but when meal-time came he woke up. So his master, throwing him a bone, said: "You sleepy little wretch of a Puppy, what shall I do with you, you inveterate sluggard? When I am thumping on my anvil you can go to sleep on the mat; but when I come to work my teeth immediately you are wide awake and wagging your tail at me." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FROGS DESIRING A KING [Illustration] THE FROGS DESIRING A KING. The Frogs were grieved at their own lawless condition, so they sent a deputation to Zeus begging him to provide them with a King. Zeus, perceiving their simplicity, dropped a Log of wood into the pool. At first the Frogs were terrified by the splash, and dived to the bottom; but after a while, seeing the Log remain motionless, they came up again, and got to despise it so much that they climbed up and sat on it. Dissatisfied with a King like that, they came again to Zeus and entreated him to change their ruler for them, the first being altogether too torpid. Then Zeus was exasperated with them, and sent them a Stork, by whom they were seized and eaten up. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE DOG AND THE WOLF [Illustration] THE DOG AND THE WOLF. A Wolf, seeing a large Dog with a collar on, asked him: "Who put that collar round your neck, and fed you to be so sleek?" "My master," answered the Dog. "Then," said the Wolf, "may no friend of mine be treated like this; a collar is as grievous as starvation." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE STAG LOOKING INTO THE WATER [Illustration] THE STAG LOOKING INTO THE WATER. A Stag parched with thirst came to a spring of water. As he was drinking he saw his own reflection on the water, and was in raptures with his horns when he observed their splendid size and shape, but was troubled about his legs, they seemed so thin and weak. As he was still musing, some huntsmen with a pack of hounds appeared and disturbed him, whereupon the Stag took to flight, and keeping a good distance ahead so long as the plain was free from trees, he was being saved; but when he came to a woody place he got his horns entangled in the branches, and being unable to move was seized by the hounds. When he was at the point of death he said to himself: "What a fool am I, who was on the way to be saved by the very things which I thought would fail me; while by those in which I so much trusted I am brought to ruin." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FROGS AND THE FIGHTING BULLS [Illustration] THE FROGS AND THE FIGHTING BULLS. A Frog in his marsh looking at some Bulls fighting, exclaimed: "O dear! what sad destruction threatens us now!" Another Frog asked him why he said that, seeing that the Bulls were only fighting for the first place in the herd, and that they lived quite remote from the Frogs. "Ah," said the first, "it is true that our positions are wide apart, and we are different kinds of things, but still, the Bull who will be driven from the rule of the pasture will come to lie in hiding in the marsh, and crush us to death under his hard hoofs, so that their raging really does closely concern the lives of you and me." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE LION AND OTHER BEASTS [Illustration] THE LION AND OTHER BEASTS. The Lion one day went out hunting along with three other Beasts, and they caught a Stag. With the consent of the others the Lion divided it, and he cut it into four equal portions; but when the others were going to take hold of their shares, "Gently, my friends," said the Lion; "the first of these portions is mine, as one of the party; the second also is mine, because of my rank among beasts; the third you will yield me as a tribute to my courage and nobleness of character; while, as to the fourth,--why, if any one wishes to dispute with me for it, let him begin, and we shall soon see whose it will be." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FOX AND THE STORK [Illustration] THE FOX AND THE STORK. The Fox poured out some rich soup upon a flat dish, tantalising the Stork, and making him look ridiculous, for the soup, being a liquid, foiled all the efforts of his slender beak. In return for this, when the Stork invited the Fox, he brought the dinner on the table in a jug with a long narrow neck, so that while he himself easily inserted his beak and took his fill, the Fox was unable to do the same, and so was properly paid off. [Illustration: "Frame 1: "With Mr Fox's respects & many happy returns of the day" Frame 2: "With Mrs Stork's kind regards and the compliments of the season"] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE HORSE AND THE STAG [Illustration] THE HORSE AND THE STAG. There was a Horse who had a meadow all to himself until a Stag came and began to injure the pasture. The Horse, eager to punish the Stag, asked a man whether there was any way of combining to do this. "Certainly," said the Man, "if you don't object to a bridle and to my mounting you with javelins in my hand." The Horse agreed, and was mounted by the Man; but, instead of being revenged on the Stag, he himself became a servant to the Man. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE COCK AND THE JEWEL [Illustration] THE COCK AND THE JEWEL. A Barn-door Cock while scratching up his dunghill came upon a Jewel. "Oh, why," said he, "should I find this glistening thing? If some jeweller had found it he would have been beside himself with joy at the thought of its value; but to me it is of no manner of use, nor do I care one jot about it; why, I would rather have one grain of barley than all the jewels in the world." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE ASS, THE LION, AND THE COCK [Illustration] THE ASS, THE LION, AND THE COCK. An Ass and a Cock were in a shed. A hungry Lion caught sight of the Ass, and was on the point of entering the shed to devour him. But he took fright at the sound of the Cock crowing (for people say that Lions are afraid at the voice of a Cock), and turned away and ran. The Ass, roused to a lofty contempt of him for being afraid of a Cock, went out to pursue him; but when they were some distance away the Lion ate him up. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE WOLF AND THE LAMB [Illustration] THE WOLF AND THE LAMB. A Wolf seeing a Lamb drinking at a brook, took it into his head that he would find some plausible excuse for eating him. So he drew near, and, standing higher up the stream, began to accuse him of disturbing the water and preventing him from drinking. The Lamb replied that he was only touching the water with the tips of his lips; and that, besides, seeing that he was standing down stream, he could not possibly be disturbing the water higher up. So the Wolf, having done no good by that accusation, said: "Well, but last year you insulted my Father." The Lamb replying that at that time he was not born, the Wolf wound up by saying: "However ready you may be with your answers, I shall none the less make a meal of you." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES [Illustration] THE MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES. A Man whose hair was turning gray had two Wives, one young and the other old. The elderly woman felt ashamed at being married to a man younger than herself, and made it a practice whenever he was with her to pick out all his black hairs; while the younger, anxious to conceal the fact that she had an elderly husband, used, similarly, to pull out the gray ones. So, between them, it ended in the Man being completely plucked, and becoming bald. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE FOX WITHOUT A TAIL [Illustration] THE FOX WITHOUT A TAIL. A Fox had had his tail docked off in a trap, and in his disgrace began to think his life not worth living. It therefore occurred to him that the best thing he could do was to bring the other Foxes into the same condition, and so conceal his own deficiency in the general distress. Having assembled them all together he recommended them to cut off their tails, declaring that a tail was an ungraceful thing; and, further, was a heavy appendage, and quite superfluous. To this one of them rejoined: "My good friend, if this had not been to your own advantage you would never have advised us to do it." [Illustration: "Nonsense, my dears! Husbands are ridiculous things & are quite unnecessary!"] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE EAGLE AND THE FOX [Illustration] THE EAGLE AND THE FOX. An Eagle and a Fox entered into a covenant of mutual affection and resolved to live near one another, looking upon close intercourse as a way of strengthening friendship. Accordingly the former flew to the top of a high tree and built her nest, while the latter went into a bush at the foot and placed her litter there. One day, however, when the Fox was away foraging, the Eagle, being hard pressed for food, swooped down into the bush, snatched up the cubs and helped her own fledglings to devour them. When the Fox came back and saw what had happened she was not so much vexed at the death of her young ones as at the impossibility of requital. For the Eagle having wings and she none, pursuit was impossible. So she stood some distance away and did all that is left for the weak and impotent to do--poured curses on her foe. But the Eagle was not to put off for long the punishment due to her violation of the sacred tie of friendship. It happened that some country-people were sacrificing a goat, and the Eagle flew down and carried away from the altar some of the burning flesh. But when she had got it to her eyrie a strong wind got up and kindled into flame the thin dry twigs of the nest, so that the eaglets, being too young to be able to fly, were roasted, and fell to the ground. Then the Fox ran up and, before the Eagle's eyes, devoured them every one. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE OX AND THE FROG [Illustration] THE OX AND THE FROG. An Ox, as he was drinking at the water's edge, crushed a young Frog underfoot. When the mother Frog came to the spot (for she happened to be away at the time) she asked his brothers where he was. "He is dead, mother," they said; "a few minutes ago a great big four-legged thing came up and crushed him dead with his hoof." Thereupon the Frog began to puff herself out and ask whether the animal was as big as that. "Stop, mother, don't put yourself about," they said; "you will burst in two long before you can make yourself the same size as that beast." [Illustration: "There, my child, have I not as many buttons as Lady Golderoy now?"] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE HAWK CHASING THE DOVE [Illustration] THE HAWK CHASING THE DOVE. A Hawk giving headlong chase to a Dove rushed after it into a farmstead, and was captured by one of the farm men. The Hawk began to coax the man to let him go, saying that he had never done him any harm. "No," rejoined the man; "nor had this Dove harmed you." [Illustration] [Illustration] 
29022	----	images generously made available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 29022-h.htm or 29022-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29022/29022-h/29022-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29022/29022-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See http://www.archive.org/details/mrpunchawheelhum00londuoft MR. PUNCH AWHEEL. The Humours of Motoring and Cycling. Illustration: MR PUNCH AWHEEL * * * * * PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. MR. PUNCH AWHEEL * * * * * Illustration: _Owner of violently palpitating motor car._ "There's no need to be alarmed. It will be all right as soon as I've discovered the what-d'ye-call-it!" * * * * * MR. PUNCH AWHEEL. The Humours of Motoring and Cycling. As Pictured by PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN HILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, TOM BROWNE, A. S. BOYD, H. M. BROCK, C. E. BROCK, GUNNING KING, CHARLES PEARS, G. D. ARMOUR, G. H. JALLAND, FRED PEGRAM, F. H. TOWNSEND, G. L. STAMPA, LANCE THACKERAY, AND OTHERS. With 120 Illustrations Published by Arrangement with the Proprietors of "Punch" The Educational Book Co. Ltd. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated._ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN * * * * * EDITOR'S NOTE. Among the characteristics which are essentially British, is the tendency to receive almost any innovation, be it a new style of dress or a new method of locomotion, with some degree of distrust which shows itself in satirical criticism; to be followed soon after by the acceptance of the accomplished fact and complete approval. In this trait of our national character, as in all others, MR. PUNCH proves himself a true born Britisher. When the bicycle was first coming into popularity, he seemed rather to resent the innovation, and was more ready to see the less attractive side of cycling than its pleasures and its practical advantages. So, too, with the automobile. Only recently has MR. PUNCH shown some tendency to become himself an enthusiast of the whirling wheel. This diffidence in joining the ranks of the cyclists or the motorists is due entirely to MR. PUNCH'S goodness of heart and his genuine British love of liberty. The cycling scorcher and the motoring road-hog are two abominations which he most naturally holds in the greatest contempt. Against them he is never tired of directing his most scathing satire; but while this is entirely praiseworthy it tends a little to give a false impression of his attitude towards two of the most delightful sports which modern ingenuity has invented. After all, the scorcher and the road-hog are the least representative followers of the sports which their conduct brings into question, and it is very easy to over-estimate their importance. For that reason, in the compiling of the present volume the editor has endeavoured to make a selection which will show MR. PUNCH in his real attitude towards motoring and cycling, in which, of course, it is but natural and all to our delight that he should see chiefly their humours, so largely the result of misadventure. But as he has long since ceased to jibe at the lady who cycles or to regard male cyclists as "cads on castors,"--in the phrase of Edmund Yates,--and ceased also to view the motor car as an ingenious device for public slaughter, his adverse views have not in the present volume been unduly emphasised. * * * * * MR. PUNCH AWHEEL ENTERPRISING PRO-MOTOR. One of our special correspondents started out to try the effect of taking notes from his motor-car whilst proceeding at top-speed. The experiment took place in June; but we have only just received the following account of the result. "Started away and turned on full head of smell--steam, I mean. Over Southwark Bridge, fizz, kick, bang, rattle! Flew along Old Kent Road; knocked down two policemen on patrol duty ('Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road'); fizzed on through New Cross and Lewisham at awful nerve-destroying, sobbing pace, 'toot toot-ing' horn all the way. No good, apparently, to some people, who would not, or possibly _could_ not, get out of the way. Cannoned milk-cart entering Eltham village, ran into 'bus, but shot off it again, at a tangent, up on to the footpath, frightening old lady into hysterics. Onwards we went, leaping and flying past everything on the road, into open country. Ran over dog and three chickens, and saw tandem horses take fright and bolt; dust flew, people yelled at us and we yelled at people. Came round sharp corner on to donkey standing in road. 'Boosted' him up into the air and saw him fall through roof of outhouse! Whirr-r-up! bang! rattle! fizz-izz--Bust!" "Where am I?--Oh, in hospital--oh, really?--Seems nice clean sort of place.--How long----? Oh, been here about six weeks--have I, really? And what----? Oh, _both_ arms, you say?--and left leg? Ah--by the way, do you know anyone who wants to buy a motor----? What, no motor left?--By Jove! that's funny, isn't it?--Well, I think I'll go to sleep again now." * * * * * _Ethel_ (_with book_). "What's an autocrat, Mabel?" _Mabel._ "Person who drives an auto-car, of course, silly." * * * * * THE BEST LUBRICANT FOR CYCLES.--Castor oil. * * * * * Illustration: "Wouldn't yer like ter 'ave one o' them things, Liza Ann?" "No. I wouldn't be seen on one. I don't think they're nice for lidies!" * * * * * MOTOR QUESTIONS What rushes through the crowded street With whirring noise and throbbing beat, Exhaling odours far from sweet? The motor-car. Whose wheels o'er greasy asphalte skim, Exacting toll of life and limb, (What is a corpse or so to _him_)? The motorist's. Who flies before the oily gust Wafted his way through whirling dust, And hopes the beastly thing will bust? The pedestrian. Who thinks that it is scarcely fair To have to pay for road repair While sudden death lies lurking there? The ratepayer. Who as the car goes whizzing past At such law-breaking stands aghast, (For forty miles an hour _is_ fast)? The policeman. Who hears the case with bland surprise, And over human frailty sighs, The while he reads between the lies? The magistrate. * * * * * Illustration: FICKLE FORTUNE "And only yesterday I was fined five pounds for driving at excessive speed!" * * * * * Illustration: IN DORSETSHIRE _Fair Cyclist._ "Is this the way to Wareham, please?" _Native._ "Yes, miss, yew seem to me to ha' got 'em on all right!" * * * * * SO UNSELFISH!--"Oh yes, I gave my husband a motor-car on his birthday." "But I thought he didn't like motor-cars!" "He doesn't. But I _do_!" * * * * * _Q._ Why is the lady bikist of an amorous disposition? _A._ Because she is a sigh-cling creature. * * * * * Illustration: CROWDED OUT.--_Stage-struck Coster_ (_to his dark-coloured donkey_). "Othello, Othello, _your_ occupation 'll soon be gone!" * * * * * HINTS FOR BIKING BEGINNERS 1. Insure your life and limbs. The former will benefit your relations, the latter yourself. 2. Learn on a hired machine. The best plan is to borrow a machine from a friend. It saves hiring. Should the tyre become punctured, the brake be broken, the bell cracked, the lamp missing, and the gear out of gear, you will return it as soon as possible, advising your friend to provide himself with a stronger one next time. 3. Practise on some soft and smooth ground. For example, on a lawn; the one next door for choice. A muddy road, although sufficiently soft, is not recommended--the drawbacks are obvious. 4. Choose a secluded place for practising. It may at first sight appear somewhat selfish to deprive your neighbours of a gratuitous performance which would be certain to amuse them. Nevertheless, be firm. 5. Get someone to hold you on. Engage a friend in an interesting conversation while you mount your bicycle. Do you remember _Mr. Winkle's_ dialogue with _Sam Weller_ when he attempted skating? You can model your conversation on this idea. Friend will support you while you ride and talk. Keep him at it. It will be excellent exercise for _him_, physically and morally. Also economical for _you_; as, otherwise, you would have to pay a runner. 6. Don't bike; trike. * * * * * A NEW TERROR.--_Johnson._ Hullo, Thompson, you look peekish. What's wrong? _Thompson._ The vibration of motor-carring has got on my liver. _Johnson._ I see, automobilious! * * * * * ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD.--_Cyclist_ (_to owner of dog over which he has nearly ridden_). Take your beast out of my way! What right has he here? _Owner._ Well, he pays seven and sixpence a year for the privilege of perambulation, and _you_ pay nothing! * * * * * THE VERY OLDEST MOTOR-CAR.--The whirligig of time. * * * * * Illustration: "Hi! Whip behind!" "Yah! 'E ain't got none!" * * * * * Illustration: ADDING INSULT TO INJURY.--_Tramp Photographer._ "Now, sir, just as you are for a shillin'!" [_And little Binks, who prides himself upon his motor driving, is trying his best to get his wife to promise not to tell anyone about the smash._] * * * * * A QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE Dear Mr. Punch,--Knowing you to be a past master in the art of courtesy, I venture to submit the following hard case to your judgment. The other morning, being a none too experienced cyclist, I ventured into the Park on my "wheel" at an early hour, thinking to have a little practice unobserved. Judge of my horror when, as I was wobbling along, I was suddenly confronted by the Duchess of Xminster and her daughters, all expert riders! Her Grace and the Ladies Wiseacre bowed to me in the most affable way, but, afraid to leave go of the handles of my machine, I could only NOD in return. And I have always been renowned for the elegance with which I remove my _chapeau_! These noble ladies have since cut me dead. I cannot blame them, but I venture to suggest, for your approval, that the raising of the right elbow, such as is practised by coachmen, gentle and simple, should be adopted by all cyclists. I think that I could manage the movement. Yours in social despair, AMELIUS AMBERGRIS _Bayswater._ * * * * * Illustration: _Cow-boy_ (_to young lady who has taken refuge_). "Would you mind openin' the gate, miss? They're a-comin' in there." * * * * * An admirable improvement in motor-cars is about to be introduced by one of our leading firms. Cars are frequently overturned, and the occupants buried underneath. In future, on the bottom of every car made by the firm in question there will be engraved the words, "Here lies----," followed by a blank space, which can be filled up by the purchaser. * * * * * _He._ "Do you belong to the Psychical Society?" _She._ "No; but I sometimes go out on my brother's machine!" * * * * * Illustration: WHEEL AND WOE.--A Brooklyn inventor has patented a cycle-hearse. * * * * * Illustration: UNLICENSED PEDALLERS.--Cyclists. * * * * * TO MARIE, RIDING MY BICYCLE Brake, brake, brake On my brand-new tyre, Marie! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fishmonger's boy That his tricycle's mean and squalid; O well for the butcher lad That the tyres of his wheel are solid! And the reckless scorchers scorch With hanging purple heads, But O for the tube that is busted up And the tyre that is cut to shreds. Brake, brake, brake-- Thou hast broken indeed, Marie, And the rounded form of my new Dunlop Will never come back to me. * * * * * A SUGGESTION IN NOMENCLATURE.--The old name of "Turnpike Roads" has, long ago, with the almost universal disappearance of the ancient turnpikes, become obsolete. Nowadays, bicycles being "always with us," why not for "Turnpike Roads" substitute "Turn-bike roads"? This ought to suit the "B. B. P.," or "Bicycling British Public." * * * * * Illustration: "Oh, did you see a gentleman on a bicycle as you came up?" "No; but I saw a man sitting at the bottom of the hill mending an old umbrella!" * * * * * THAT BICYCLE LAMP The other Sunday afternoon I rode over on my bicycle to see the Robinsons. They live seven miles away. Tomkins and others were there. People who live in remote country places always seem pleased to see a fellow creature, but Robinson and his wife are unusually hospitable and good-natured. After I had had some tea, and thought of leaving, a hobnail was discovered in the tyre of Tomkin's bicycle. He, being very athletic, was playing croquet, a game which requires vast muscular strength. However, he said that his tyres were something quite new, and that in one minute one man, or even one child, could stick one postage-stamp, or anything of the sort, over that puncture and mend it. So all the rest of us and the butler, principally the butler, who is an expert in bicycles, went at it vigorously, and after we had all worked for nearly an hour the tyre was patched up, and Tomkins, having finished his game, rode coolly away. I was going to do the same, but Robinson wouldn't hear of it--I must stay to dinner. I said I had no lamp for riding home in the dark. He would lend me his. I said I should have to dine in knickerbockers. That didn't matter in the country. So I stayed till 9.30. The next Sunday I rode over again. I started directly after lunch, lest I should seem to have come to dinner, and I gave the butler that lamp directly I arrived. But it was all no good, for I stayed till 10, and had to borrow it again. "Bring it back to-morrow morning," said Robinson, "and help us with our hay-making." Again dined in knickerbockers. On Monday I resolved to be firm. I would leave by daylight. Rode over early. After some indifferent hay-making and some excellent lunch, I tried to start. No good. Robinson carried me off to a neighbour's tennis-party. After we returned from that, he said I must have some dinner. Couldn't ride home all those seven miles starving. Knickerbockers didn't matter. Again dined there and rode home at 10.30. So I still have Robinson's lamp. Now I want to know how I am going to get it back to his house. If I have it taken by anybody else he will think I don't care to come, which would be quite a mistake. Have vowed that I will not dine there again except in proper clothes. If I cross his hospitable threshold, even before breakfast, I shall never get away before bedtime. Can't ride seven miles in evening dress before breakfast even in the country. Besides, whatever clothes I wore, I should never be able to leave by daylight. I should still have his lamp. Can't take a second lamp. Would look like inviting myself to dinner. So would the evening clothes at breakfast. What is to be done? * * * * * Illustration: THE RETORT CURTEOUS.--_Motorist_ (_cheerfully--to fellow-guest in house party_). "What luck? Killed anything?" _Angler_ (_bitterly_). "No. Have you?" * * * * * Illustration: _Vicar's Daughter._ "Oh, Withers, your mistress tells me you are saving up to take a little shop and look after your mother. I think it is such a sweet idea!" _Withers._ "Well, yes, miss, I did think of it; but now I've got the money I've changed my mind, and I'm going to buy myself one of these 'ere bicycles instead!" * * * * * Illustration: A STORY WITHOUT WORDS * * * * * Illustration: THE INFERENCE.--_Giles_ (_who has been rendering "first aid" to wrecked motor-cyclist_). "Naw, marm, I doan't think as 'e be a married man, 'cos 'e says _this_ be the worst thing wot 'as ever 'appened to un!" * * * * * Illustration: SAVING THE SITUATION _Effie_ (_to whom a motor-brougham is quite a novelty_). "Oh, mummy dear, look! There's a footman and a big coachman on the box, and there isn't a horse or even a pony! What _are_ they there for?" _Mummy dear_ (_not well versed in electricity and motor-mechanism_). "Well, you see, Effie dear--the--(_by a happy inspiration_) but, dear, you're not old enough to understand." * * * * * The _Daily Mail_ has discovered that the "Motor-Cough" is "caused by the minute particles of dust raised by motor-cars which lodge themselves in the laryngeal passage." If people _will_ use their gullets as garages, what can they expect? * * * * * Illustration: _Horsey Wag_ (_to Mr. and Mrs. Tourey, who are walking up a hill_). "And do you always take your cycles with you when you go for a walk?" * * * * * IN EAST DORSETSHIRE.--_Cyclist (to Native)._ How many miles am I from Wimborne? _Native._ I dunno. _Cyclist._ Am I near Blandford? _Native._ I dunno. _Cyclist (angrily)._ Then what do you know? _Native._ I dunno. [_Cyclist speeds to No Man's Land in the New Forest._ * * * * * OUR BARTERERS BICYCLE.--Thoroughly heavy, lumbering, out-of-date machine, recently doctored up to look like new, for sale. Cost, second-hand, six years ago, £4. Will take £12 for it. Bargain. Would suit a dyspeptic giant, or a professional strong man in want of violent exercise. SAFETY CYCLE.--Pneumatic tyres. A real beauty. Makers well known in Bankruptcy Court. Owner giving up riding in consequence of the frame being thoroughly unsafe, and the tyres constantly bursting. Would exchange for one of Broadwood's grand pianos or a freehold house in the country. * * * * * Illustration: THE ? OF THE DAY.--Should there be a speed (and dust) limit? * * * * * THE QUEEN'S HIGHWAY.--_Infuriated Cyclist_ (_after a collision with a fast-trotting dog-cart_). I shall summon you to-morrow! I've as much right on the road as you, Jehu! _Irate Driver._ And I shall summon _you_! This thoroughfare's mine as well as yours, let me tell you, Scorcher! _Pedestrian_ (_who has been nearly killed by the collision, and is lying prostrate after being cannoned on to the path, very feebly_). And what about me, gentlemen? Have I any right of way? * * * * * The constant strain of driving motor-cars is said to be responsible for a form of nervous break-down which shows a decided tendency to increase. One certainly comes across a number of cars afflicted in this way. * * * * * "PIKES AND BIKES" (_By a "riding Poet"_) In years gone by our sires would try To abrogate the highway "pikes." No tolls to-day, can bar the way, But freeing of the road brought "bikes"; And there are many Northern Tykes, Who would prefer the "pikes" to "bikes." * * * * * Illustration: _Old Lady_ (_describing a cycling accident_). "'E 'elped me hup, an' brushed the dust orf on me, an' put five shillin' in my 'and, an' so I says, 'Well, sir, I'm sure you're _hactin'_ like a gentleman,' I says, 'though I don't suppose you are one,' I says." * * * * * A motor-car, proceeding along the High Street the other evening, took fright, it is supposed, at a constable on point-to-point duty, and exploded, blowing the occupants in various directions over the adjoining buildings. The policeman is to be congratulated upon averting what might have been a serious accident. * * * * * A well-known motorist has been complaining of the campaign waged against motor-cars by humorous artists, who never seem to tire of depicting accidents. "One common and ludicrous error in many drawings," he said, "is the placing of the driver on the wrong side of the car." But surely, in an accident, that is just where he would find himself. * * * * * _Sympathetic Lady._ "I hope you had a good holiday, Miss Smith." _Overworked Dressmaker._ "Oh yes, my lady. I took my machine with me, you know!" _S. L._ "What a pity; you should give up needle and thread when you're out for a----" _O. D._ "Oh, I don't mean my sewing machine! I refer to my bicycle!" * * * * * Illustration: SCENE--_A remote district in the Wolds._ _Driver of Motor-car_ (_who has just pulled up in response to urgent summons from countrywoman_). "Well, what's the matter? What is it?" _Countrywoman._ "Hi, man, look! You've been an' left yer 'oss on the 'ill!" * * * * * THE CYCLING GOVERNESS I no longer teach my classes Their Shakespeare and the glasses, And the uses of the globes, as was my custom; But all they'll learn from me Is to ride the iron gee-- All other lessons utterly disgust 'em! The girls no more will meddle With the painful piano-pedal, They'll only touch the pedal of their "Humber"; Like their grannies, they begin At an early age to "spin," But the road it is their spinning-wheels encumber. So wheeling now my trade is, And finishing young ladies In the proper kind of bicycling deportment; _I_'m nearly finished, too, And battered black and blue, For of falls I've had a pretty large assortment! * * * * * WOE ON THE WHEEL. There was a "scorching" girl, who came down an awful purl, And scarified her nose, and scarred her forehead. She thought, when first she rode, biking very, _very_ good, But now she considers it horrid! * * * * * Illustration: _Winny_ (_one mile an hour_) _to Annie_ (_two miles an hour_). "Scorcher!" * * * * * THE FAVOURITE OF THE MOTOR-CARS.--_Pet_roleum. * * * * * In England, says a French writer, motoring is not considered a sport because it does not involve killing anything. This is but one more example of Continental aspersion. * * * * * As a result of his trip over the Gordon-Bennett course, the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin now recommends the motor-car for pastoral visits. This will be no new thing. For years past some people have looked on the motor-car in the light of a visitation. * * * * * CYCLING CONUNDRUM.--_Q._ What article of the cyclist girl's attire do a couple of careless barbers recall to mind? _A._ A pair of nickers. * * * * * Motorists are still expressing their indignation at a recent disgraceful incident when one of their number, because he could not pay a fine at once, was taken to prison, and forced to don ugly convict garb in the place of his becoming goggles and motor coat. * * * * * Illustration: _Engineer._ "There's certainly a screw loose somewhere." _Simple Simon_ (_with gleeful satisfaction_). "He-he! I knaws where 't be too!" _Car Owner_ (_intensely interested_). "What do you mean, boy?" _Simple Simon._ "He-he! Why I've got 'un! All the folks say as 'ow I've got a screw loose somewheres!" * * * * * WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS _Dialogue between two Young Gentlemen, dressed in Knickerbocker Suits, Gaiters, and Golf caps. They have the indescribable air which proclaims the votary of the "Bike"._ _First Young Gentleman._ Yes; I certainly agree with the French view of it. Cycling shouldn't be indulged in without care. _Second Y. G._ They say in Paris that no one should become an habitual cyclist without "medical authorisation." _First Y. G._ Yes. Quite right. Then, when you are permitted, you ought to travel at a moderate pace. About five miles an hour is quite enough for a beginner. _Second Y. G._ Enough! Why, too much! You can't be too careful! Then, if you break off for a time, you ought to begin all over again. You should "gradually acquire speed"; not rush at it! _First Y. G._ Certainly. I read in the _Lancet_ only the other day that merely increasing the pace of a bike a couple of miles an hour was sufficient to send up the normal pulse to 150! _Second Y. G._ Most alarming! And yet I can see from your costume you are a cyclist. _First Y. G._ Not at all. I am pleased with the costume, and, like yourself, have adopted it. Now do not laugh at me. But, between ourselves, I have never been on a bicycle in my life! _Second Y. G._ No more have I! [_Curtain._ * * * * * Illustration: "ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST."--_Nervous Lady Cyclist._ "I hope it isn't very deep here." _Ferryman._ "Sax hunderd an' fefty-nine feet, Miss." * * * * * The provincial journal which, the other day, published the following paragraph:--"Private letters from Madagascar state that two cyclists have visited the island, causing the loss of 200 lives and immense damage to property," and followed it up with a leader virulently attacking motor-cyclists, now informs us that the word should have been "cyclones." The printer has been warned. * * * * * "Anti-Motor" writes to point out that one advantage of holding motor races like those that have just taken place in Ireland is that after each race there are fewer motors. * * * * * THE TRAIL OF THE MOTOR.--"COLLECTOR. Young man wants collecting."--_Advt. in Provincial Paper._ * * * * * Illustration: _Old Farmer Jones_ (_who has been to a local cattle-show, and seen a horseless carriage for the first time_). "Mosher carsh may be all very well--(_hic!_)--but they can't find 'er way home by 'emshelves!" * * * * * SHOULD MOTORISTS WEAR MASKS? ["Plus de lunettes spéciales pour MM. les chauffeurs. Ils devront conduire comme les cochers ordinaires à yeux nus ou avec les lunettes ordinaires de myopes ou de presbytes. Nos sportsmen déclarent que ces lunettes de motoristes favorisent l'anonymat. Ces lunettes sont de véritables masques. On fait sous ce masque ce qu'on n'oserait pas faire à visage découvert. En France il est défendu de se masquer en dehors du temps de carnaval ... si le masque tombe, la vitesse des motors deviendra fatalement normale."--_M. N. de Noduwez in the "Times."_] MR. PUNCH has collected a few brief opinions upon the subject of the above-quoted letter. MR. KIPLING writes: "Through dirt, sweat, burns, bursts, smells, bumps, breakdowns, and explosions I have attained to the perfect joy of the scorcher. I have suffered much on the southern British highways. My Tibetan devil-mask shall therefore add to their terrors. Besides, I wore gig-lamps at school. What do they know of Sussex who only Burwash know?" MR. BEERBOHM TREE telephones: "The most beautiful of all arts is that of make-up. We cannot all resemble _Caliban_, but why should not the motorist aspire in that direction? Life is but a masque, and all roads lead to 'His Majesty's.'" Miss MARIE CORELLI telegraphs: "I am all for anonymity and everything that tends to the avoidance of advertisement. If people must ride in motors, let them have the decency to disguise themselves as effectually as possible, and shun all contact with their kind." Mr. JEM SMITH, cabdriver, in the course of an interview, said: "Masks? Not 'arf! Let 'em out on the Fifth of November, and throw a match in their oil-tanks--that's what _I_'d do! _I_'d anonymous the lot of 'em!" POLICEMAN XX. (in the _rôle_ of a labourer behind a hedge on the Brighton road): "'Oo are you a-gettin' at? Do you see any mote in my eye? If you want to know the time, I've a stop-watch!" * * * * * Illustration: DIVISION OF LABOUR.--It is not the business of ducal footmen to clean the family bicycles. The ladies Ermyntrude and Adelgitha have to do it themselves. * * * * * _Enthusiastic Motorist_ (_to Perfect Stranger_). _I_ swear by petrol, sir; always use it myself. Now what, may I ask, do _you_ use? _Perfect Stranger._ Oats! * * * * * Illustration: JUGGERNAUTICAL.--_Unfortunate Cyclist_ (_who has been bowled over by motor-car_). "Did you see the number?" _Jarge._ "Yes, there was three on 'em. Two men and a woman." * * * * * Illustration: EXPECTATION.--The Browns welcoming the Robinsons (awfully jolly people, don't you know,) from whom they have had a letter saying that they will arrive early in the day by motor. * * * Illustration: REALISATION.--The Browns, when the arrivals have removed their motor glasses, etc., disclosing not the Robinsons, but those awful bores, the Smiths. * * * * * THERE WAS A NEW WOMAN (_Neo-Nursery Rhyme_) There was a New Woman, as I've heard tell, And she rode a bike with a horrible bell, She rode a bike in a masculine way, And she had a spill on the Queen's highway. While she lay stunned, up came Doctor Stout, And he cast a petticoat her "knickers" about, To hide the striped horrors which bagged at the knees. When the New Woman woke, she felt strange and ill at ease; She began to wonder those skirts for to spy, And cried, "Oh, goodness gracious! I'm sure this isn't I! But if it is I, as I hope it be, I know a little vulgar boy, and he knows me; And if it is I, he will jeer and rail, But if it isn't I, why, to notice me he'll fail." So off scorched the New Woman, all in the dark, But as the little vulgar boy her knickers failed to mark, He was quite polite, and she began to cry, "Oh! Jimmy doesn't cheek me, so I'm sure this _isn't_ I!" * * * * * THE PACE THAT KILLS Have a care how you speed! Take the motorist's case:-- On his tomb you can read, "Requiescat in pace." * * * * * Illustration: LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES.-- _Motorist._ "Conductor! How can I strike the Harrow road?" _Conductor._ "'Arrer road? Let's see. Second to right, third to--it's a good way, sir. I tell 'ee, sir. Just follow that green bus over there; that'll take you right to it!" * * * * * WONDERS ON WHEELS (_By an Old Beginner_) Wonder if my doctor was right in ordering me to take this sort of exercise. Wonder whether I look very absurd while accepting the assistance of an attendant who walks by my side and keeps me from falling by clutches at my waistbelt. Wonder whether it would have been better to go to Hyde Park instead of Battersea. Wonder whether the policeman, the postman, the nurse with the perambulator, the young lady reading the novel, and the deck passengers on the passing steamboat are laughing at me. Wonder whether I shall keep on now that my attendant has let go. Wonder whether the leading wheel will keep straight on until we have passed that lamp-post. Wonder whether the next spill I have will be less painful than the last. Wonder why mats are not laid down by the County Council in the roads for the comfort of falling cyclists. Wonder why the cycle suddenly doubled up and landed me in the gutter. Wonder whether the pretty girl in the hat, whose face is hidden by a novel, smiled at my misadventure. Wonder whether the person who has just come to grief over yonder is using good language or words of an inferior quality. Wonder whether my attendant is right in urging me to remount and have another try. Wonder whether I look well wobbling. Wonder whether the elderly spinster with the anxious manner and air of determination is really enjoying herself. Wonder whether, when I have completed my first hour, I shall want another. Wonder whether the imp of a boy will run with me. Wonder whether my second fall in five minutes beats the record. Wonder, considering the difficulty of progressing half a dozen paces in as many minutes, how those marvellous feats are performed at Olympia. Wonder if I shall ever advance upon my present rate of speed, _i.e._, three-quarters of a mile an hour. Wonder, finally, if the placards warning cyclists in Battersea Park against the dangers of "furious riding" can possibly be posted for my edification. * * * * * THE SCORCHER He travels along at the top of his speed, You might think that his life was at stake; To beauties of nature he never pays heed, For the record he's trying to break. He stiffens his muscles and arches his back As if he were still on the cinder-path track. He races regardless of life and of limb, Caring naught for the folk in his way; For chickens and children are nothing to him, And his mad career nothing can stay; So wildly he wheels as if urged by a goad; By coachmen he's christened "the curse of the road." He'll pass on the left and he'll ride on the right, For the rules of the road caring naught; His lamp he will not take the trouble to light Till a pretty smart lesson he's taught. But lecture and fine him as much as you will, The trail of the scorcher is over him still. * * * * * RHYME FOR RECORD-MAKERS Rattle-it, rattle-it, "Biking" man; Make us a "record" as fast as you can; Score it, and print it as large as life, And someone will "cut" it ere you can say knife! * * * * * Illustration: Unwilling to give up horses altogether, Captain Pelham effected a compromise. His first appearance in the park created quite a sensation. * * * * * Illustration: FLATTERY--WITH AN OBJECT _Jocasta_ (_with an axe of her own to grind, ingratiatingly_). "Oh yes, papa, it does suit you. I never saw you look so nice in anything before!" * * * * * Illustration: MEMS FOR MOTORISTS.--If your car suddenly appears to drag heavily, you may be sure there is something to account for it. * * * * * Illustration: "Have you ever tried riding without the handles? It's delightfully easy, all but the corners." * * * Illustration: !!! So it seems! * * * * * BROKEN ON THE WHEEL _First Lesson._--Held on by instructor, a tall, muscular young man. Thought it was so easy. Cling for dear life to handle, as beginners in horsemanship cling to the reins. Instructor says I must not. Evidently cannot hold on by my knees. Ask him what I am to hold on by. "Nothing," he says. How awful! Feel suspended in the air. That is what I ought to be. At present am more on ground; anyway one foot down. Even when in movement position of feet uncertain. Go a few yards, supported. Muscular instructor rather hot and tired, but says civilly, "You're getting on nicely, sir." At this get off unexpectedly, and, when I am picked up, reply, "Very likely," only my feet were off the pedals all the time. Then rest, and watch little children riding easily. One pretty girl. Wonder whether she laughed at me. Probably. Shall have another try. _Second Lesson._--Held on by another instructor, who urges me "to put more life into it." Hope it won't be the death of me. Work in a manner which even the treadmill, I imagine, could not necessitate, and get the wheel round a few times. Painful wobbling. Instructor says I must pedal more quickly. Can't. Rest a minute. Panting. Awfully hot. Observe little children going round comfortably. Pretty girl here again, looking as fresh and cool as possible. Suddenly manage to ride three yards unsupported. Then collapse. But am progressing. Shall come again soon. _Third Lesson._--Endeavour to get on alone. Immediately get off on other side. Nearly upset the pretty girl. Polite self-effacement impossible when one is at the mercy of a mere machine. After a time manage better. And at last get started and ride alone for short distances. Always tumble off ignominiously just as I meet the pretty girl. Instructor urges me to break the record. Hope I shan't break my neck. Finally go all round the ground. Triumph! Pretty girl seems less inclined to laugh. Delightful exercise, bicycle riding! Shall come again to-morrow. _Fourth Lesson._--High north-east wind. Hot sun. Regular May weather. Clouds of coal-dust from track. Pretty girl not there at all. Start confidently. Endeavour to knock down a wall. Wall does not suffer much. Start again. Faster this time. The pretty girl has just come. Will show what I can do now. Career over large hole. Bicycle sinks, and then takes a mighty leap. Unprepared for this. Am cast into the air. Picked up. Can't stand. Something broken. Doctor will say what. Anyhow, clothes torn, bruised, disheartened. Dare not catch the eye of pretty girl. Carried home. Shall give up bicycle riding. Awful fag, and no fun. * * * * * In its "Hints for Bicyclists," _Home Chat_ says: "A little fuller's earth dusted inside the stockings, socks and gloves, keeps the feet cool." Nothing, however, is said of the use of rubber soles as a protection against sunstroke. * * * * * OVERHEARD AT A MOTOR MEETING.-- _Inquirer._ "I wonder what they call those large, long cars?" _Well-informed Friend._ "Those? Oh, I believe those are the Flying Kilometres, a French make." * * * * * People who are in favour of increasing the rates--Motorists. * * * * * Illustration: THE PERILS OF CYCLING.--(_A sketch in Battersea Park._) _Angelina._ "Come along, dear!" * * * * * Illustration: MOTORING PHENOMENA--AND HOW TO READ THE SIGNS * * * * * Illustration: _The Squire._ "But I tell you, sir, this road is private, and you shall not pass except over my prostrate body!" _Cyclist._ "All right, guv'nor, I'll go back. I've done enough hill climbing already!" * * * * * THE MORAL BIKE _Truth_ has discovered that temperance is promoted, and character generally reformed, by the agency of the bicycle--in fact, the guilty class has taken to cycling. That is so. Go into any police-court, and you will find culprits in the dock who have not only taken to cycling but have also taken other people's cycles. Ask any burglar among your acquaintance, and he will tell you that the term Safety Bicycle has a deeper and truer meaning for him, when, in pursuit of his vocation, he is anxious not to come in collision with the police. Look, too, at the Scorcher on his Saturday afternoon exodus. Where could you have a more salient and striking example of pushfulness and determination to "get there" over all obstacles? He is, in fact, an example of Nietzsche's "Ueber-mensch," the Over-man who rides over any elderly pedestrian or negligible infant that may cross his path. Then the Lady in Bloomers. She is a great reforming agent. She looks so unsightly, that if all her sisters were dressed like her flirtation would die out of the land and there would be no more cakes and ale. Think also of all the virtues called into active exercise by one simple puncture: Patience, while you spend an hour by the wayside five miles from anywhere; Self-control, when "swears, idle swears, you know not what they mean, swears from the depth of some divine despair rise in the heart and gather to the lips," as Tennyson has so sympathetically put it; Fortitude, when you have to shoulder or push the Moral Agent home; and a lot of other copy-book qualities. Lastly, the adventurer who proceeds without a light within curfew hours, the sportsman who steals a march on the side-walk, and the novice who tries a fall with the first omnibus encountered--are all bright instances of British independence, and witnesses to _Truth_. Truly, the bike is an excellent substitute for the treadmill and the reformatory! * * * * * Illustration: "AS OTHERS SEE US."-- _Obliging Motorist._ "Shall I stop the engine?" _Groom._ "Never mind that, sir. But if you gents wouldn't mind just gettin' out and 'idin' behind the car for a minute,--the 'orses think it's a menagery comin'." * * * * * Illustration: THE MILTONIC CYCLIST * * * * * WAKE UP, ENGLAND! ["British lady motor-drivers," says _Motoring Illustrated_, "must look to their laurels. Miss Rosamund Dixey, of Boston, U.S.A., invariably has her sweet, pet, fat, white pig sitting up beside her in the front of her motor car."] We are losing our great reputation Our women are not up-to-date; For a younger, more go-a-head nation Has beaten us badly of late; Is there nowhere some fair Englishwoman Who'd think it not too _infra dig._ To be seen with (and treat it as human) A sweet--pet--fat--white--pig? There is no need to copy our Cousins, A visit or two to the Zoo Will convince you there must be some dozens Of animal pets that would do, With a "grizzly" perched up in your motor, Just think how the people would stare, Saying, "Is that a man in a coat or A big--grey--tame--he--bear?" Think how _chic_ it would look in the paper (_Society's Doings_, we'll say), "Mrs. So-and-so drove with her tapir, And daughter (the tapir's) to-day. Mrs. Thingummy too and her sister Drove out for an hour and a half, And beside them (the image of Mr.) A dear--wee--pink--pet--calf!" * * * * * Illustration: "Did you get his number?" "No; but I saw exactly what she was wearing and how much she paid for the things!" * * * * * THE MOTORS' DEFENCE UNION A Pedestrians' Protection League is being formed to uphold the rights of foot-passengers on the highways. As no bane is without its antidote, an opposition union is to be organised, having in view the adoption of the following regulations:-- 1. Every pedestrian must carry on his front and back a large and conspicuous number as a means of easy and rapid identification. 2. No foot passenger shall quit the side-walk, except at certain authorised crossings. In country lanes and places where there is no side-walk the ditch shall be considered equivalent to the same. 3. Each foot-passenger about to make use of such authorised crossings shall thrice sound a danger-signal on a hooter, fog-horn or megaphone; and, after due warning has thus been given, shall traverse the road at a speed of not less than twelve miles an hour. The penalty for infringement to be forty shillings or one month. 4. Any pedestrian obstructing a motor by being run over, causing a motor to slow down or stop, or otherwise deranging the traffic, shall be summarily dealt with: the punishment for this offence to be five years' penal servitude, dating from arrest or release from hospital, as the case may be. 5. Should the pedestrian thus trespassing on the highway lose his life in an encounter with a motor-car, he shall not be liable to penal servitude; compensation for shock and loss of time, however, shall be paid from his estate to the driver of the car, such amount being taxed by the coroner. 6. All cattle, sheep, pigs, swine, hares, rabbits, conies, and other ground game, and every goose, duck, fowl, or any animal whatsoever with which the motor shall collide shall, _ipso facto_, be confiscated to the owner of the motor. 7. Any comment, remark, reflection, sneer or innuendo concerning the shape, speed, appearance, noise, smell, or other attribute of a motor-car, or of its occupants, shall be actionable; and every foot-passenger thus offending shall be bound over in the sum of £500 to keep the peace. * * * * * The Scotchman who tumbled off a bicycle says that in future he intends to "let wheel alone." * * * * * Illustration: _Mabel's three bosom Friends_ (_all experts--who have run round to see the Christmas gift_). "Hullo, Mab!. Why, what on earth are you doing?" _Mab_ (_in gasps_). "Oh--you see--it was awfully kind of the Pater to give it to me--but I have to look after it myself--and I knew I should _never have breath enough to blow the tyres out_!" * * * * * Illustration: AN ACCOMMODATING PARTY.--_Lady Driver._ "Can you show us the way to Great Missenden, please?" _Weary Willie._ "Cert'nly, miss, cert'nly. We're agoin' that way. 'Op up, Joe. Anythink to oblige a lady!" * * * * * Among the correspondence in the _Daily Mail_ on the subject of "The Motor Problem," there is a letter from a physician, who exposes very cynically a scheme for improving his practice. "I am," he says, "a country doctor, and during the last five years have had not a single case of accident to pedestrians caused by motor car.... As soon as I can afford it I intend to buy a motor." * * * * * Illustration: HOW NOT _Bikist._ "Now then, Ethel, see me make a spurt round this corner." * * * Illustration: TO DO IT _First Villager._ "What's up, Bill?" _Second Villager._ "Oh, only a gent awashin' the dust off his bike." * * * * * It is a bad workman who complains of his tools, yet even the best of them may be justly annoyed when his spanner goes completely off its nut. * * * * * "Motor cycle for sale, 2-3/4 h.-p., equal to 3-1/4 h.-p." _--Provincial Paper._ Discount of 1/2 h.-p. for cash? * * * * * SONG OF THE SCORCHER. (_After reading the Protests and Plans of the Cyclophobists_) I know I'm a "scorcher," I know I am torcher To buffers and mivvies who're not up to date; But grumpy old geesers, and wobbly old wheezers, Ain't goin' to wipe me and my wheel orf the slate. I mean to go spinning and 'owling and grinning At twelve mile an hour through the thick of the throng. And shout, without stopping, whilst, frightened and flopping, My elderly victims like ninepins are dropping,-- "So long!" The elderly bobby, who's stuffy and cobby, Ain't got arf a chance with a scorcher on wheels; Old buffers may bellow, and young gals turn yellow, But what do I care for their grunts or their squeals? No, when they go squiffy I'm off in a jiffy, The much-abused "scorcher" is still going strong. And when mugs would meddle, I shout as I pedal-- "So long!" Wot are these fine capers perposed by the papers? These 'ints about lassos and butterfly nets? To turn scorcher-catchers the old pewter-snatchers In 'elmets must take fewer stodges and wets! Wot, treat _hus_ like bufflers or beetles! The scufflers In soft, silent shoes, turn Red Injins? You're wrong! It's all bosh and bubble! I'm orf--at the double!-- "So long!" * * * * * Illustration: _Owner_ (_as the car insists upon backing into a dike_). "Don't be alarmed! Keep cool! Try and keep cool!" [_Friend thinks there is every probability of their keeping VERY cool, whether they try to or not!_ * * * * * Illustration: _Village Constable_ (_to villager who has been knocked down by passing motor cyclist_). "You didn't see the number, but could you swear to the man?" _Villager._ "I did; but I don't think 'e 'eard me." * * * * * Illustration: THE JOYS OF MOTORING.--No, this is not a dreadful accident. He is simply tightening a nut or something, and she is hoping he won't be much longer. * * * * * SUGGESTED ADDITIONAL TAXATION _£_ _s._ _d._ For every Motor Car 4 4 0 If with smell 5 5 0 Extra offensive ditto 6 6 0 Motor Car proceeding at over ten miles an hour, for each additional mile 1 1 0 For every Bicycle used for "scorching" 0 10 0 * * * * * THE ORIGINAL CLASSICAL BICYCLIST.--"Ixion; or, the Man on the Wheel." * * * * * MY STEAM MOTOR-CAR (1) Monday.--I buy a beautiful steam motor-car. Am photographed. (2) Tuesday.--I take it out. Pull the wrong lever, and back into a shop window. A bad start. (3) Wednesday morning.--A few things I ran over. (4) Wednesday afternoon.--Took too sharp a turn. Narrowly escaped knocking down policeman at the corner. Ran over both his feet. (5) Thursday morning.--Got stuck in a ditch four miles from home. (6) Thursday evening.--Arrive home. Back the car into the shed. Miss the door and knock the shed down. (7) Friday.--Ran over my neighbour's dog. (8) Saturday.--Silly car breaks down three miles from home. Hire a horse to tow it back. (9) Sunday.--Filling up. Petrol tank caught fire. Wretched thing burnt. Thank goodness! * * * Illustration: MY STEAM MOTOR-CAR * * * * * MODERN ROMANCE OF THE ROAD ["It is said that the perpetrators of a recent burglary got clear away with their booty by the help of an automobile. At this rate we may expect to be attacked, ere long, by automobilist highwaymen."--_Paris Correspondent of Daily Paper._] It was midnight. The wind howled drearily over the lonely heath; the moon shone fitfully through the driving clouds. By its gleam an observer might have noted a solitary automobile painfully jolting along the rough road that lay across the common. Its speed, as carefully noted by an intelligent constable half-an-hour earlier, was 41.275 miles an hour. To the ordinary observer it would appear somewhat less. Two figures might have been descried on the machine; the one the gallant Hubert de Fitztompkyns, the other Lady Clarabella, his young and lovely bride. Clarabella shivered, and drew her sables more closely around her. "I am frightened," she murmured. "It is so dark and cold, Hubert, and this is a well-known place for highwaymen! Suppose we should be attacked?" "Pooh!" replied her husband, deftly manipulating the oil-can. "Who should attack us when 'tis common talk that you pawned your diamonds a month ago? Besides, we have a swivel-mounted Maxim on our machine. Ill would it fare with the rogue who--Heavens! what was that?" From the far distance sounded a weird, unearthly noise, growing clearer and louder even as Hubert and his wife listened. It was the whistle of another automobile! In a moment Hubert had turned on the acetylene search-light, and gazed with straining eyes down the road behind him. Then he turned to his wife. "'Tis Cutthroat giving us chase," he said simply. "Pass the cordite cartridges, please." Lady Clarabella grew deathly pale. "I don't know where they are!" she gasped. "I think--I think I must have left them on my dressing-table." "Then we are lost. Cutthroat is mounted on his bony Black Jet, which covers a mile a minute--and he is the most blood-thirsty ruffian on the road. Shut off steam, Clarabella! We can but yield." "Never!" cried his wife. "Here, give me the lever; we are nearly at the top of this tremendously steep hill--we will foil him yet!" Hubert was too much astonished to speak. By terrific efforts the gallant automobile arrived at the summit, when Clarabella applied the brake. Then she gazed down the narrow road behind her. "Take the starting-lever, Hubert," she said, "and do as I tell you." Ever louder sounded the clatter of their pursuer's machine; at last its head-light showed in the distance, as with greatly diminished speed it began to climb the hill. "Now!" shrieked Clarabella. "Full speed astern, Hubert! Let her go!" The automobile went backwards down the hill like a flash of lightning. Cutthroat had barely time to realise what was happening before it was upon him. Too late he tried to steer Black Jet out of the way. There was a yell, a sound of crashing steel, a cloud of steam. When it cleared away, it revealed Hubert and Clarabella still seated on their machine, which was only slightly damaged, while Cutthroat and Black Jet were knocked into countless atoms! * * * * * Illustration: GREAT SELF-RESTRAINT.--_Lady in pony-cart_ (_who has made several unsuccessful attempts to pass persevering beginner occupying the whole road_). "Unless you soon fall off, I'm afraid I shall miss my train!" * * * * * Illustration: "These trailers are splendid things! You must really get one and take me out, Percy!" * * * * * Illustration: THE RIVAL FORCES. (Scene--_Lonely Yorkshire moor. Miles from anywhere._) _Passing Horse-dealer_ (_who has been asked for a tow by owners of broken-down motor-car_). "Is it easy to pull?" _Motorist._ "Oh yes. Very light indeed!" _Horse-dealer._ "Then supposin' you pull it yourselves!" [_Drives off._ * * * * * Illustration: _The Owner_ (_after five breakdowns and a spill_). "Are y-you k-keen on r-riding home?" _His Friend._ "N-not very." _The Owner._ "L-let's l-leave it a-and _walk_, s-shall we?" * * * * * Illustration: SUNDAY MORNING.-- _Cyclist_ (_to rural policeman_). "Nice crowd out this morning!" _Rural Policeman_ (_who has received a tip_). "Yes, an' yer can't do with 'em! If yer 'ollers at 'em, they honly turns round and says, 'Pip, pip'!" * * * * * Illustration: _Rustic_ (_to beginner, who has charged the hedge_). "It's no good, sir. They things won't jump!" * * * * * THE UNIVERSAL JUGGERNAUT.--"Anyone," says the _Daily Telegraph_, "who has driven an automobile will know that it is quite impossible to run over a child and remain unconscious of the fact." _Any one who has driven an automobile!_ Heavens! what a sweeping charge! Is there none innocent? * * * * * Illustration: "'Tain't no use tellin' me you've broke down! Stands to reason a motor-caw goin' down 'ill's _bound_ to be goin' too fast. So we'll put it down at about thirty mile an hour! Your name and address, sir, _hif_ you please." * * * * * URBS IN RURE ["When every one has a bicycle and flies to the suburban roads, the suburban dwellers will desert their houses and come back to crowded London to find quiet and freedom from dust."--_Daily Paper._] Time was desire for peace would still My footsteps lure to Richmond Hill, Or to the groves of Burnham I, Much craving solitude, would fly; Thence, through the Summer afternoon, 'Mid fragrant meads, knee-deep in June, Lulled by the song of birds and bees, I'd saunter idly at mine ease To that still churchyard where, with Gray, I'd dream a golden hour away, Forgetful all of aught but this-- That peace was mine, and mine was bliss. But now should my all-eager feet Seek out some whilom calm retreat, "Pip, pip!" resounds in every lane, "Pip, pip!" the hedges ring again, "Pip, pip!" the corn, "Pip, pip!" the rye, "Pip, pip!" the woods and meadows cry, As through the thirsty, fever'd day, The red-hot scorchers scorch their way. Peace is no longer, Rest is dead, And sweetest Solitude hath fled; And over all, the cycling lust Hath spread its trail of noise and dust. So, would I woo the joys of Quiet, I see no more the country's riot, But the comparatively still Environment of Ludgate Hill. There, 'mongst the pigeons of St. Paul's, I muse melodious madrigals, Or loiter where the waters sport 'Mid the cool joys of Fountain Court, Where, undisturbed by sharp "Pip, pip!" My nimble numbers lightly trip, And country peace I find again In Chancery and Fetter Lane. * * * * * VEHICULAR PROGRESSION.--_Mr. Ikey Motor_ (_to customer_). Want a machine, sir? Certainly, we've all sorts to suit your build. _Customer._ It isn't for me, but for my mother-in-law. _Mr. Ikey Motor._ For your mother-in-law! How would a steam roller suit her? [Mr. I. M. _is immediately made aware that the lady in question has overheard his ill-timed jest, while the customer vanishes in blue fire._ * * * * * EXPERTO CREDE.--What is worse than raining cats and dogs?--Hailing motor omnibuses. * * * * * Illustration: COMPREHENSIVE.--_Owner_ (_as the car starts backing down the hill_). "Pull everything you can see, and put your foot on everything else!" * * * * * Illustration: _Farmer_ (_in cart_). "Hi, stop! Stop, you fool! Don't you see my horse is running away?" _Driver of Motor-car_ (_hired by the hour_). "Yes, it's all very well for you to say 'stop,' but I've forgotten how the blooming thing works!" * * * * * Illustration: SIMPLE ENOUGH _Yokel_ (_in pursuit of escaped bull, to Timmins, who is "teaching himself"_). "Hi, Mister! If yer catch hold of his leading-stick, he can't hurt yer!" * * * * * ANTI-BICYCLIST MOTTO.--Rather a year of Europe than a cycle of to-day. * * * * * MOTTO FOR THOSE WHO "BIKE."--"And wheels rush in where horses fear to tread." * * * * * Illustration: A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.-- _Major Mustard_ (_who has been changing several of his servants_). "How dare you call yourself a chauffeur?" _Alfonsoe._ "Mais non! Non, monsieur! Je ne suis pas 'chauffeur.' J'ai dit que je suis le chef. Mais monsieur comprehend not!" * * * * * CYCLES! CYCLES!! CYCLES!!! SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY NEW THE LITTLE HANDLE-BAR SPRING NO MORE ACCIDENTS! NO MORE STOLEN CYCLES! All our bicycles are fitted with the Little Handle-Bar Spring, which, when pressed, causes the machine to fall into 114 pieces. Anyone can press the spring, but it takes an expert three months to rebuild it, thus trebling the life of a bicycle. We are offering this marvellous invention at the absurd price of 50 guineas cash down, or 98 weekly instalments of 1 guinea. [Special reductions to company promoters and men with large families.] We can't afford to do it for less, because when once you have bought one you will never want another. ADVICE TO PURCHASERS Don't lose your head when the machine runs away with you down the hill; simply press the spring. Don't wait for your rich uncle to die; just send him one of our cycles. Don't lock your cycle up at night; merely press the spring. Don't be misled by other firms who say that their machines will also fall to pieces; they are only trying to sell their cycles; we want to sell YOU. NOTE.--We can also fit this marvellous Little Spring to perambulators, bath-chairs, and bathing machines. We append below some two out of our million testimonials. The other 999,998 are expected every post. _July, 1906._ Dear Sirs,--I bought one of your cycles in May, 1895, and it is still as good as when I received it. I attribute this solely to the Little Handle-Bar Spring, which I pressed as soon as I received the machine. P.S.--What do you charge for rebuilding a cycle? _August, 1906._ Gentlemen,--Last month I started to ride to Barnet on one of your cycles. When ascending Muswell Hill, I lost control of the machine, but I simply pressed the spring, and now I feel that I cannot say enough about your bike. I shall never ride any other again. P.S.--I should very much like to meet the inventor of the "Little Handle-Bar Spring." * * * * * Illustration: _Friend._ "Going about thirty, are we? But don't you run some risk of being pulled up for exceeding the legal pace?" _Owner._ "Not in a sober, respectable-looking car like this. Of course, if you go about in a blatant, brass-bound, scarlet-padded, snorting foreign affair, like _that_, you are bound to be dropped on, no matter how slow you go!" * * * * * Illustration: AN AMBUSCADE.--Captain de Smythe insidiously beguiles the fair Laura and her sister to a certain secluded spot where, as he happens to know, his hated rival, Mr. Tomkyns, is in the habit of secretly practising on the bicycle. He (Captain de S.) calculates that a mere glimpse of Mr. T., as he wobbles wildly by on that instrument, will be sufficient to dispel any illusions that the fair Laura may cherish in her bosom respecting that worthy man. * * * * * Illustration: _Our own Undergraduate_ (_fresh from his Euclid_). "Ha! Two riders to one prop." * * * * * Illustration: INSULT ADDED TO INJURY.--_Wretched Boy._ "Hi, guv'nor! D'yer want any help?" * * * * * THE PERFECT AUTOMOBILIST [_With acknowledgments to the Editor of "The Car"_] Who is the happy road-deer? Who is he That every motorist should want to be? The Perfect Automobilist thinks only of others. He is an Auto-altruist. He never wantonly kills anybody. If he injures a fellow-creature (and this will always be the fellow-creature's fault) he voluntarily buys him a princely annuity. In the case of a woman, if she is irreparably disfigured by the accident, he will, supposing he has no other wife at the time, offer her the consolation of marriage with himself. He regards the life of bird and beast as no less sacred than that of human beings. Should he inadvertently break a fowl or pig he will convey it to the nearest veterinary surgeon and have the broken limb set or amputated as the injury may require. In the event of death or permanent damage, he will seek out the owner of the dumb animal, and refund him fourfold. To be on the safe side with respect to the legal limit, the Perfect Automobilist confines himself to a speed of ten miles per hour. He will even dismount at the top of a steep descent, so as to lessen the impetus due to the force of gravity. If he is compelled by the nature of his mission to exceed the legal limit (as when hurrying, for instance, to fetch a doctor in a matter of life or death, or to inform the Government of the landing of a hostile force) he is anxious not to shirk the penalty. He will, therefore, send on a swift messenger to warn the police to be on the lookout for him; and if he fails to run into any trap he will, on returning, report himself at all the police-stations on his route, or communicate by post with the constabularies of the various counties through which he may have passed. At the back of his motor he carries a watering-cart attachment for the laying of dust before it has time to be raised. Lest the noise of his motor should be a cause of distraction he slows down when passing military bands, barrel organs, churches (during the hours of worship), the Houses of Parliament (while sitting), motor-buses, the Stock Exchange, and open-air meetings of the unemployed. If he meets a restive horse he will turn back and go down a side road and wait till it has passed. If all the side roads are occupied by restive horses he will go back home; and if the way home is similarly barred he will turn into a field. He encourages his motor to break down frequently; because this spectacle affords an innocent diversion to many whose existence would otherwise be colourless. It is his greatest joy to give a timely lift to weary pedestrians, such as tramps, postmen, sweeps, and police-trap detectives; even though, the car being already full, he is himself compelled to get out and do the last fifty or sixty miles on foot. He declines to wear goggles because they conceal the natural benevolence of the human eye divine, which he regards as the window of the soul; also (and for the same reason he never wears a fur overcoat) because they accentuate class distinctions. Finally--on this very ground--the Perfect Automobilist will sell all his motor-stud and give the proceeds to found an almshouse for retired socialists. * * * * * Illustration: _Obliging Horseman_ (_of riverside breeding_). "Ave a tow up, miss?" * * * * * Illustration: _Cyclist._ "Why can't you look where you're going?" _Motorist._ "How the dickens could I when I didn't know!" * * * * * Illustration: _Middle-aged Novice._ "I'm just off for a tour in the country--'biking' all the way. It'll be four weeks before I'm back in my flat again." _Candid Friend._ "Ah! Bet it won't be four hours before you're flat on your back again!" * * * * * THE LAST RECORD (_The Wail of a Wiped-out Wheelman_) AIR--"_The Lost Chord_" Reading one day in our "Organ," I was happy and quite at ease. A band was playing the "_Lost Chord_," Outside--in three several keys. But _I_ cared not how they were playing, Those puffing Teutonic men; For I'd "cut the record" at cycling, And was ten-mile champion then! It flooded my cheeks with crimson, The praise of my pluck and calm; Though that band seemed blending "Kafoozleum" With a touch of the Hundredth Psalm. But my joy soon turned into sorrow, My calm into mental strife; For my record was "cut" on the morrow, And it cut _me_, like a knife. A fellow had done the distance In the tenth of a second less! And henceforth my name in silence Was dropt by the Cycling Press. I have sought--but I seek it vainly-- With that record again to shine, Midst crack names in our Cycling Organ, But they never mention mine. It may be some day at the Oval I may cut that record again, But at present the Cups are given To better--_or_ luckier--men! * * * * * Illustration: THE MOTOR-BATH _Nurse._ "Oh, baby, look at the diver!" * * * * * A SONG OF THE ROAD Tinkle, twinkle, motor-car, Just to tell us where you are, While about the streets you fly Like a comet in the sky. When the blazing sun is "off," When the fog breeds wheeze and cough, Round the corners as you scour With your dozen miles an hour-- Then the traveller in the dark, Growling some profane remark, Would not know which way to go While you're rushing to and fro. On our fears, then, as you gloat (Ours who neither "bike" nor "mote"), Just to tell us where you are-- Tinkle, twinkle, motor-car. * * * * * "Motor Body."--"One man can change from a tonneau to a landaulette, shooting brake, or racing car in two minutes, and, when fixed, cannot be told from ANY fixed body."--_Advt. in the_ "_Autocar._" The disguise would certainly deceive one's nearest relations, but as likely as not one's dog would come up and give the whole show away by licking the sparking plug. * * * * * Illustration: _Chauffeur._ "Pardon, monsieur. This way, conducts she straight to Hele?" _Major Chili Pepper_ (_a rabid anti-motorist and slightly deaf_). "Certainly it will, sir if you continue to drive on the wrong side of the road!" * * * * * Illustration: "FACILIS _Bikist_ (_gaily_). "Here we go down! down! down! down!" * * * Illustration: DESCENSUS!" _The same_ (_very much down_). "Never again with _you_, my bikey!" * * * * * Should Motors Carry Maxims?--Under the title "Murderous Magistrate," the _Daily Mail_ printed some observations made by a barrister who reproves Canon Greenwell for remarking from the Durham County Bench that if a few motorists were shot no great harm would be done. The same paper subsequently published an article headed, "Maxims for Motorists." Retaliation in kind is natural, and a maxim is an excellent retort to a canon. But why abuse the canon first? * * * * * So many accidents have occurred lately through the ignition of petrol that a wealthy motorist, we hear, is making arrangements for his car to be followed, wherever it may go, by a fully-equipped fire-engine, and, if this example be followed widely, our roads will become more interesting than ever. * * * * * Are there motor-cars in the celestial regions? Professor Schaer, of Geneva, has discovered what _he_ describes as a new comet plunging due south at a rate of almost 8 degrees a day, and careering across the Milky Way regardless of all other traffic. * * * * * Illustration: OUR ELECTION--POLLING DAY _Energetic Committeeman._ "It's all right. Drive on! He's voted!" * * * * * THE MOTOCRAT I am he: goggled and unashamed. Furred also am I, stop-watched and horse-powerful. Millions admit my sway--on both sides of the road. The Plutocrat has money: I have motors. The Democrat has the rates; so have I--two--one for use and one for County Courts. The Autocrat is dead, but I--I increase and multiply. I have taken his place. I blow my horn and the people scatter. I stand still and everything trembles. I move and kill dogs. I skid and chickens die. I pass swiftly from place to place, and horses bolt in dust storms which cover the land. I make the dust storms. For I am Omnipotent; I make everything. I make dust, I make smell, I make noise. And I go forward, ever forward, and pass through or over almost everything. "Over or Through" is my motto. The roads were made for me; years ago they were made. Wise rulers saw me coming and made roads. Now that I am come, they go on making roads--making them up. For I break things. Roads I break and Rules of the Road. Statutory limits were made for me. I break them. I break the dull silence of the country. Sometimes I break down, and thousands flock round me, so that I dislocate the traffic. But I _am_ the Traffic. I am I and She is She--the rest get out of the way. Truly, the hand which rules the motor rocks the world. * * * * * MOTOR CAR-ACTERISTICS (_By an Old Whip_) Jerking and jolting, Bursting and bolting, Smelling and steaming, Shrieking and screaming, Snorting and shaking, Quivering, quaking, Skidding and slipping, Twisting and tripping, Bumping and bounding, Puffing and pounding, Rolling and rumbling, Thumping and tumbling. Such I've a notion, Motor-car motion. * * * * * Illustration: ADDING INSULT TO INJURY _Cyclist_ (_to Foxhunter, thrown out_), "Oi say, Squoire, 'ave you seen the 'ounds?" * * * * * Illustration: TRUE PHILOSOPHY.--_Ploughman._ "Ah, things be different like wi' them an' us. They've got a trap wi' no 'osses, an' we 'm got 'osses wi' no trap." * * * * * Illustration: THE RECKLESS ONE _Wife of Injured Cyclist_ (_who, having found considerable difficulty in getting on his bicycle, and none whatever in coming off, has never ventured to attempt more than three miles in the hour_). "Well, I do believe he's had a lesson at last! I warned him about 'scorching.' I said to him, what have _you_ got to do with the 'record'?" * * * * * Illustration: AN INOPPORTUNE TIME Jones, while motoring to town to fulfil an important engagement, has the misfortune to get stuck up on the road, and has sent his chauffeur to the village for assistance. In the meantime several village children gather around and sing, "God rest you, merry gentleman, let nothing you dismay," etc. * * * * * The Great Motor Mystery.--At Lancaster two motorists were fined, according to the _Manchester Evening News_, "for driving a motor-car over a trap near Carnforth, at twenty-nine and thirty-four miles per hour respectively." We are of the opinion that the action of the second gentleman in driving at so high a speed over the poor trap when it was already down was not quite in accordance with the best traditions of English sport. * * * * * Illustration: BREAKING IT GENTLY.-- _Passer-by._ "Is that your pork down there on the road, guv'nor?" _Farmer._ "Pork! What d'ye mean? There's a pig o' mine out there." _Passer-by._ "Ah, but there's a motor-car just been by." * * * * * Illustration: EXCLUSIVE.-- _Fair Driver._ "Will you stand by the pony for a few minutes, my good man?" _The Good Man._ "Pony, mum? No, I'm a motor-minder, I am. 'Ere, Bill! 'Orse." * * * * * CRAZY TALES The Duchess of Pomposet was writhing, poor thing, on the horns of a dilemma. Painful position, very. She was the greatest of great ladies, full of fire and fashion, and with a purple blush (she was born that colour) flung bangly arms round the neck of her lord and master. The unfortunate man was a shocking sufferer, having a bad unearned increment, and enduring constant pain on account of his back being broader than his views. "Pomposet," she cried, resolutely. "Duky darling!" (When first married she had ventured to apostrophise him as "ducky," but His Grace thought it _infra dig._, and they compromised by omitting the vulgar "c.") "Duky," she said, raising pale distinguished eyes to a Chippendale mirror, "I have made up my mind." "Don't," expostulated the trembling peer. "You are so rash!" "What is more, I have made up yours." "To make up the mind of an English Duke," he remarked, with dignity, "requires no ordinary intellect; yet I believe with your feminine hydraulics you are capable of anything, Jane." (That this aristocratic rib of his rib should have been named plain Jane was a chronic sorrow.) "Don't keep me in suspense," he continued; "in fact, to descend to a colloquialism, I insist on Your Grace letting the cat out of the bag with the least possible delay." "As you will," she replied. "Your blood be on your own coronet. Prepare for a shock--a revelation. I have fallen! Not once--but many times." "Wretched woman!--I beg pardon!--wretched Grande Dame! call upon Debrett to cover you!" "I am madly in love with----" "By my taffeta and ermine, I swear----" "Peace, peace!" said Jane. "Compose yourself, ducky--that is Plantagenet. Forgive the slip. I am agitated. My mind runs on slips." The Duke groaned. "Horrid, awful slips!" With a countenance of alabaster he tore at his sandy top-knot. "I have deceived you. I admit it. Stooped to folly." A supercilious cry rent the air as the Duke staggered on his patrician limbs. With womanly impulse--flinging caste to the winds--Jane caught the majestic form to her palpitating alpaca, and, watering his beloved features with Duchessy drops, cried in passionate accents, "My King! My Sensitive Plant! Heavens! It's his unlucky back! Be calm, Plantagenet. I have--been--learning--to--_bike_! There! On the sly!" The Duke flapped a reviving toe, and squeezed the august fingers. "I am madly enamoured of--my machine." The peer smoothed a ruffled top-knot with ineffable grace. "Likewise am determined _you_ shall take lessons. Now it is no use, duky. I mean to be tender but firm with you." The Potentate gave a stertorous chortle, and, stretching out his arms, fell in a strawberry-leaf swoon on the parquet floor, his ducal head on the lap of his adored Jane. * * * * * Illustration: THE FREEMASONRY OF THE WHEEL.--"Rippin' wevver fer hus ciciklin' chaps, ain't it?" * * * * * Illustration: BROTHERS IN ADVERSITY _Farmer._ "Pull up, you fool! The mare's bolting!" _Motorist._ "So's the car!" * * * * * Illustration: QUITE RESPECTFUL _Fair Cyclist._ "Is that the incumbent of this parish?" _Parishioner._ "Well, 'e's the _Vicar_. But, wotever some of us thinks, we never calls 'im a _hencumbrance_!" * * * * * Illustration: _Gipsy Fortune-teller_ (_seriously_). "Let me warn you. Somebody's going to cross your path." _Motorist._ "Don't you think you'd better warn the other chap?" * * * * * THE SCORCHER (_After William Watson_) I do not, in the crowded street Of cab and "'bus" and mire, Nor in the country lane so sweet, Hope to escape thy tyre. One boon, oh, scorcher, I implore, With one petition kneel, At least abuse me not before Thou break me on thy wheel. * * * * * Illustration: A motorist wishes to point out the very grave danger this balloon-scorching may become, and suggests a speed limit be made before things go too far. * * * * * THE MUGGLETON MOTOR-CAR; OR, THE WELLERS ON WHEELS _A Pickwickian Fragment Up-to-date_ As light as fairies, if not altogether as brisk as bees, did the four Pickwickian shades assemble on a winter morning in the year of grace, 1896. Christmas was nigh at hand, in all its _fin-de-siècle_ inwardness; it was the season of pictorial too-previousness and artistic anticipation, of plethoric periodicals, all shocker-sensationalism sandwiched with startling advertisements; of cynical new-humour and flamboyantly sentimental chromo-lithography. But we are so taken up by the genial delights of the New Christmas that we are keeping Mr. Pickwick and his phantom friends waiting in the cold on the chilly outside of the Muggleton Motor-car, which they had just mounted, well wrapped up in antiquated great coats, shawls, and comforters. Mr. Weller, Senior, had, all unconsciously, brought his well-loved whip with him, and was greatly embarrassed thereby. "Votever shall I do vith it, Sammy?" he whispered, hoarsely. "Purtend it's a new, patent, jointless fishing-rod, guv'nor," rejoined Sam, in a Stygian aside. "Nobody 'ere'll 'ave the slightest notion vot it really is." "When are they--eh--going to--ahem--put the horses to?" murmured Mr. Pickwick, emerging from his coat collar, and looking about him with great perplexity. "'_Osses?_" cried the coachman, turning round upon Mr. Pickwick, with sharp suspicion in his eye. "'_Osses?_ d'ye say. Oh, who are you a-gettin' at?" Mr. Pickwick withdrew promptly into his coat-collar. The irrepressible Sam came immediately to the aid of his beloved master, whom he would never see snubbed if _he_ knew it. "There's vheels vithin vheels, as the bicyclist said vhen he vos pitched head foremost into the vatchmaker's vinder," remarked Mr. Weller, Junior, with the air of a Solomon in smalls. "But vot sort of a vheel do you call that thing in front of you, and vot's its pertikler objeck? a top of a coach instead o' under it?" "This yer wheel means Revolution," said the driver. "It do, Samivel, it do," interjected his father dolorously. "And in my opinion it's a worse Revolution than that there French one itself. A coach vithout 'osses, vheels instead of vheelers, and a driver vithout a vhip! Oh Sammy, Sammy, to think it should come to _this_!!!" The driver--if it be not desecration to a noble old name so to designate him--gave a turn to his wheel and the autocar started. Mr. Winkle, who sat at the extreme edge, waggled his shadowy legs forlornly in the air; Mr. Snodgrass, who sat next to him, snorted lugubriously; Mr. Tupman turned paler than even a Stygian shade has a right to do. Mr. Pickwick took off his glasses and wiped them furtively. "Sam," he whispered hysterically in the ear of his faithful servitor, "Sam, this is dreadful! A--ahem!--vehicle with no visible means of propulsion pounding along like--eh--Saint Denis without his head, is more uncanny than Charon's boat." "Let's get down, Sammy, let's get down at once," groaned Mr. Weller the elder. "I can't stand it, Samivel, I really can't. Think o' the poor 'osses, Sammy, think o' the poor 'osses as ain't there, and vot they must feel to find theirselves sooperseeded by a hugly vheel and a pennorth o' peteroleum, &c.!" "Hold on, old Nobs!" cried the son, with frank filial sympathy. "Think of the guv'nor, father, and vait for the first stoppage. Never again vith the Muggleton Motor! Vhy, it vorse than a hortomatic vheelbarrow, ain't it, Mr. Pickwick?" "Ah, Sammy," assented Mr. Weller, Senior, hugging his whip, affectionately. "Vorse even than vidders, Sammy, the red-nosed shepherd, or the Mulberry One hisself!" * * * * * A bear in a motor-car attracted much attention in the City last week. It had four legs this time. * * * * * The _Motor Car_ declares, on high medical authority, that motoring is a cure for insanity. We would therefore recommend several motorists we know to persevere. * * * * * Illustration: GENTLE SATIRE--"I say, Bill, look 'ere! 'Ere's a old cove out record-breaking!" * * * * * Illustration: MOTOR MANIA.-- _The Poet_ (_deprecatingly_). "They say she gives more attention to her motor-cars than to her children." _The Butterfly._ "Of course. How absurd you are! Motor-cars require more attention than children." * * * * * Illustration: SOUR GRAPES _First Scorcher._ "Call _that_ exercise?" _Second Scorcher._ "No. _I_ call it sitting in a draught!" * * * * * Illustration: NOT TO BE CAUGHT.-- _Motorist_ (_whose motor has thrown elderly villager into horse-pond_). "Come along, my man, I'll take you home to get dry." _Elderly Villager._ "No, yer don't. I've got yer number, and 'ere I stays till a hindependent witness comes along!" * * * * * Illustration: _Pedestrian._ "I hear Brown has taken to cycling, and is very enthusiastic about it!" _Cyclist._ "Enthusiastic! Not a bit of it. Why, he never rides before breakfast!" * * * * * Illustration: GROTESQUERIES _Words wanted to express feelings_ When your motor refuses to move, twenty miles from the nearest town. * * * * * Illustration: SO INCONSIDERATE "Jove! Might have killed us! I must have a wire screen fixed up." * * * * * BROWNING ON THE ROAD. Round the bend of a sudden came Z 1 3, And I shot into his front wheel's rim; And straight was a fine of gold for him, And the need of a brand-new bike for me. * * * * * Illustration: "IF DOUGHTY DEEDS MY LADY PLEASE" "Mamma! Mr. White says he is longing to give you your first bicycle lesson!" * * * * * A WISH (_By a Wild Wheelman. A long way after Rogers_) Mine be a "scorch" without a spill, A loud "bike" bell to please mine ear; A chance to maim, if not to kill, Pedestrian parties pottering near. My holloa, e'er my prey I catch, Shall raise wild terror in each breast; If luck or skill that prey shall snatch From my wild wheel, the shock will test. On to the bike beside my porch I'll spring, like falcon on its prey, And Lucy, on _her_ wheel shall "scorch," And "coast" with me the livelong day. To make old women's marrow freeze Is the best sport the bike has given. To chase them as they puff and wheeze, On rubber tyre--by Jove, 'tis heaven! * * * * * THE BIKER BIKED Henpeck'd he was. He learnt to bike. "Now I can go just where I like," He chuckled to himself. But she Had learnt to bike as well as he, And, what was more, had bought a new Machine to sweetly carry two. Ever together now they go, He sighing, "This is wheel _and_ woe." * * * * * Illustration: "WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS," &c. _He_ (_alarmed by the erratic steering_). "Er--and have you driven much?" _She_ (_quite pleased with herself_). "Oh, no--this is only my second attempt. But then, you see, I have been used to a _bicycle_ for years!" * * * * * Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD _Donald_ (_who has picked up fair cyclist's handkerchief_). "Hi! Woman! Woman!" _Fair Cyclist_ (_indignantly_). "'Woman'! How _dare_ you----" _Donald_ (_out of breath_). "I beg your pardon, sir! I thought you was a woman. I didna see your _trews_." * * * * * Automobile dust-carts, says the _Matin_, are to be used in Paris henceforth. We had thought every motor-car was this. * * * * * Illustration: ENGLISH DICTIONARY ILLUSTRATED.--"Coincidence." The falling or meeting of two or more lines or bodies at the same point. * * * * * REFLECTIONS OF A MOTOR-RACER Two A.M.! Time to get up, if I'm to be ready for the great Paris-Berlin race at 3.30. Feel very cold and sleepy. Pitch dark morning, of course. Moon been down hours. Must get into clothes, I suppose. Oilskins feel very clammy and heavy at this hour in the morning. Button up tunic and tuck trousers into top boots. Put on peaked cap and fasten veil tightly over face, after covering eyes with iron goggles and protecting mouth with respirator. Wind woollen muffler round neck and case hands in thick dogskin gloves with gauntlets. Look like Nansen going to discover North Pole. Or Tweedledum about to join battle with Tweedledee. Effect on the whole unpleasing. Great crowds to see us off. Nearly ran over several in effort to reach starting post. Very careless. People ought not to get in the way on these occasions. Noise appalling. Cheers, snatches of _Marseillaise_, snorts of motors, curses of competitors, cries of bystanders knocked down by enthusiastic _chauffeurs_, shouts of _gendarmes_ clearing the course. Spectators seem to find glare of acetylene lamps very confusing. Several more or less injured through not getting out of the way sufficiently quickly. At last the flag drops. We are off. Pull lever, and car leaps forward. Wonder if wiser to start full speed or begin gently? Decide on latter. Result, nearly blinded by dust of competitors in front, and suffocated by stench of petroleum. Fellow just ahead particularly objectionable in both respects. Decide to quicken up and pass him. Can't see a foot before me on account of his dust. Suddenly run into the stern of his car. Apologise. Can't I look where I'm going? Of course I can. Not my fault at all. Surly fellow! Proceed to go slower. Fellow behind runs into _me_. Confound him, can't he be more careful? Says he couldn't see me. Idiot! Put on speed again. Car in front just visible through haze of dust. Hear distant crash. Confound the man, he's run into a dray! Just time to swerve to the right, and miss wreck of his car by an inch. Clumsy fellow, blocking my road in that way. At last clear space before me. Go up with a rush. Wind whistles past my ears. Glorious! What's that? Run over an old woman? Very annoying. Almost upset my car. Awkward for next chap. Body right across the road. Spill him to a certainty. Morning growing light, but dust thicker than ever. Scarcely see a yard in front of me. Must trust to luck. Fortunately road pretty straight here. Just missed big tree. Collided with small one. Knocked it over like a ninepin. Lucky I was going so fast. Car uninjured, but tree done for. Man in car just ahead very much in my way. Shout to him to get out of the light. Turns round and grins malevolently. Movement fatal. He forgets to steer and goes crash into ditch. What's that he says? Help? Silly fellow, does he think I can stop at this pace? Curious how ignorant people seem to be of simplest mechanical laws. Magnificent piece of road here. Nothing in sight but a dog. Run over it. Put on full speed. Seventy miles an hour at least. Can no longer see or hear anything. Trees, villages, fields rush by in lightning succession. Fancy a child is knocked down. Am vaguely conscious of upsetting old gentleman in gig. Seem to notice a bump on part of car, indicating that it has passed over prostrate fellow citizen, but not sure. Sensation most exhilarating. Immolate another child. Really most careless of parents leaving children loose like this in the country. Some day there will be an accident. Might have punctured my tyre. Chap in front of me comes in sight. Catching him up fast. He puts on full speed. Still gaining on him. Pace terrific. Sudden flash just ahead, followed by loud explosion. Fellow's benzine reservoir blown up apparently. Pass over smoking ruins of car. Driver nowhere to be seen. Probably lying in neighbouring field. That puts _him_ out of the race. Eh? What's that? Aix in sight? Gallop, says Browning. Better not, perhaps. Road ahead crowded with spectators. Great temptation to charge through them in style. Mightn't be popular, though. Slow down to fifteen miles an hour, and enter town amid frantic cheering. Most interesting. Wonderfully few casualties. Dismount at door of hotel dusty but triumphant. * * * * * Illustration: _First Cyclist_ (_cross-eyed_). "Why the dickens don't you look where you're going?" _Second Cyclist_ (_cross-eyed_). "Why don't you go where you're looking?" * * * * * Illustration: QUITE IMPOSSIBLE.--_Motorist._ "What! Exceeding the legal limit? _Do_ we look as if we would do such a thing?" * * * * * Illustration: THE INTERPRETATION OF SIGNS _Custodian._ "This 'ere's a private road, miss! Didn't yer see the notice-board at the gate, sayin' 'No thoroughfare'?" _Placida._ "Oh yes, of course. Why, that's how I knew there was a way through!" * * * * * Illustration: AFTER THE ACCIDENT "Toujours la politesse." * * * * * Illustration: QUITE A LITTLE HOLIDAY _Cottager._ "What's wrong, Biker? Have you had a spill?" _Biker._ "Oh, no. I'm having a rest!" * * * * * Illustration: WHATS IN A NAME? _Old Gent_ (_lately bitten with the craze_). "And that confounded man sold me the thing for a safety!" * * * * * _Motoring Illustrated_ suggests the institution of a Motor Museum. If we were sure that most of the motor omnibuses at present in our streets would find their way there, we would gladly subscribe. * * * * * PROTECTION AGAINST MOTOR-CARS Sir,--I recently read with interest a letter in the _Times_ from "A Cyclist since 1868." In it he announced his intention of carrying a tail-light in order to avoid being run into from behind. The idea is admirable, and my wife and I, as Pedestrians since 1826 and 1823 respectively, propose to wear two lamps each in future, a white and a red. We are, however, a little exercised to know whether we should carry the white in front and the red behind, or _vice versâ_. For in walking along the right side of a road we shall appear on the wrong side to an approaching motor-car. Would it not therefore be better for us to have the tail-light in front. Your most humble and obedient servant, LUX PR�POSTERA. P.S.--Would such an arrangement make us "carriages" in the eye of the law? At present we appear to be merely a sub-division of the class "unlighted objects." * * * * * CURE FOR MOTOR-SCORCHERS (_suggested as being even more humane than the proposal of_ Sir R. Payne-Gallwey).--Give them Automobile Beans! * * * * * Illustration: SLOW AND SURE _John._ "I've noticed, miss, as when you 'as a motor, you catches a train, not _the_ train!" * * * * * HOW THE MATCH CAME OFF A HARMONY ON WHEELS (_Miss Angelica has challenged Mr. Wotherspoon to a race on the Queen's highway._) _Fytte 1._ _Mr. W._ Fine start! (Faint heart!) _Miss A._ Horrid hill! (Feeling ill!) _Fytte 2._ _Mr. W._ Going strong! Come along! _Fytte 3._ _Miss A._ Road quite even! Perfect heaven! _Fytte 4._ _Mr. W._ Goal in view! Running true! _Miss A._ Make it faster! Spur your caster! _Fytte 5._ _Mr. W._ Fairly done! _Miss A._ Match is won! [_They dismount. Pause._ _Mr. W._ What! Confess! _Miss A._ Well then--yes! * * * * * Illustration: _Motor Fiend._ "Why don't you get out of the way?" _Victim._ "_What!_ Are you coming back?" * * * * * MOTOROBESITY (_A Forecast_) In the spring of 1913 St. John Skinner came back from Africa, after spending nine or ten years somewhere near the Zambesi. He travelled up to Waterloo by the electric train, and the three very stout men who were in the same first-class compartment seemed to look at him with surprise. On arriving at his hotel he pushed his way through a crowd of fat persons in the hall. Then he changed his clothes, and went round to his Club to dine. The dining-room was filled with members of extraordinary obesity, all eating heartily. In the fat features of one of them he thought he recognised a once familiar face. "Round," said he, "how are you?" The stout man stopped eating, and gazed at him anxiously. "Why," he murmured, after a while, in the soft voice that comes from folds of fat, "it must be Skinner. My dear fellow, what is the matter with you? Have you had a fever?" "I'm all right," answered the other; "what makes you think I've been ill?" "Ill, man!" said Round, "why you've wasted away to nothing. You're a perfect skeleton." "If it's a question of bulk," remarked Skinner, "I'm much more surprised. You've grown so stout, every fellow in the Club seems so stout, everyone I've seen is as fat as--as--as you are." "Heavens!" exclaimed Round, "you don't mean to say I've been putting on more flesh? I'm the light weight of the Club. I only weigh sixteen stone. No, no, you're chaffing, or you judge by your own figure." "Not a bit," said the other; "you and I used to weigh about the same. What on earth has happened to you all?" "Well," said Round, "perhaps you're right. It's very much what the doctors say. It's the fashionable complaint, motorobesity. Sit down, and dine with me, and I'll tell you what the idea is. You see, it's like this. For ten years or so everybody who could afford a motor of some sort has had one. We've all had one. Not to have a motor has been simply ridiculous, if not disreputable. So everybody has ridden about all day in the fresh air, never had any exercise, and got an enormous appetite. Besides, in the summer we've always been drinking beer to wash down the dust, and in the winter soup, or spirits, or something to warm us. My dear fellow, you can't think what an appetite motoring gives you. I had an enormous steak for my lunch at Winchester to-day, and a great lump of plum cake with my tea at Aldershot, and my aunt, the General's wife, made me bring a bag of biscuits to eat on the way up, and yet I'm so hungry now that I should feel quite uncomfortable if the thirst those biscuits, and the dust, gave me didn't make me almost forget it. I suppose everyone is really getting fat. One notices it when one does happen to see a thin fellow like you. Why, in all the Clubs they've had to have new arm-chairs, because the old ones were too narrow. However, I've talked enough about motoring. So glad to see you again, old chap. Of course you'll get a motor as soon as possible." "Well," said Skinner, "I rather think I shall buy a horse." "My dear fellow," cried Round, "what an idea! Horse-riding is such awfully bad form. Besides, you can't go any pace. Look at me. I wouldn't get on a horse, and be shaken to pieces." "I should think not," said Skinner, "but I think I should prefer that to motorobesity." * * * * * An advertisement in _The Motor_ quotes the testimony of a gentleman from Moreton-in-the-Marsh, who states that he has run a certain car "nearly 412,500 miles in four months, and is more than pleased with it." As this works out (on a basis of twenty-four hours' running _per diem_) at about 143 miles per hour, we have pleasure in asking what the police are doing in Moreton-in-the-Marsh and its vicinity. * * * * * Noticing an advertisement of a book entitled "The Complete Motorist," an angry opponent of the new method of locomotion writes to suggest that the companion volume, "The Complete Pedestrian," had better be written at once before it becomes impossible to find an entire specimen. * * * * * MAXIM FOR CYCLISTS.--"_Try_-cycle before you _Buy_-cycle." * * * * * Illustration: Motorist (a novice) has been giving chairman of local urban council a practical demonstration of the ease with which a motor-car can be controlled when travelling at a high speed. * * * * * Illustration: LOVE'S ENDURANCE _Miss Dolly_ (_to her fiancé_). "Oh, Jack, this _is_ delightful! If you'll only keep up the pace, I'm sure I shall soon gain confidence!" [_Poor Jack has already run a mile or more, and is very short of condition._ * * * * * Illustration: TU QUOQUE.--_Cyclist_ (_a beginner who has just collided with freshly-painted fence_). "Confound your filthy paint! Now, just look at my coat!" _Painter._ "'Ang yer bloomin' coat! _'Ow about my paint?_" * * * * * Illustration: NOTE TO THE SUPERSTITIOUS It is considered lucky for a black cat to cross your path. * * * * * Illustration: WAITING FOR _A Study of Rural_ "W'y, I remembers the time w'en I'd 'ave stopped _that_ for furious drivin', an' I reckon it's only goin' about a paltry fifteen mile an hour!" * * * Illustration: BIGGER GAME _Police Methods_ "_Ar!_ Now them cyclists is puttin' on a fairish pace! Summat about twenty mile an hour, I s'pose. But 'tain't no business o' mine. _I'm_ 'ere to stop _motor-caws_. Wot ho!" * * * * * LOVE IN A CAR ["I have personal knowledge of marriages resulting from motor-car courtships."--The HON. C. S. ROLLS.--_Daily Express._] When Reginald asked me to drive in his car I knew what it meant for us both, For peril to love-making offers no bar, But fosters the plighting of troth. To the tender occasion I hastened to rise, So bought a new frock on the strength of it, Some china-blue chiffon--to go with my eyes-- And wrapped up my head with a length of it. "Get in," said my lover, "as quick as you can!" He wore a black smear on his face, And held out the hand of a rough artisan To pilot me into my place. Like the engine my frock somehow seemed to mis-fire, For Reginald's manner was querulous, But after some fuss with the near hind-wheel tyre We were off at a pace that was perilous. "There's Brown just behind, on his second-hand brute, He thinks it can move, silly ass!" Said Reggie with venom, "Ha! Ha! let him hoot, I'll give him some trouble to pass." My service thenceforth was by Reggie confined (He showed small compunction in suing it) To turning to see how far Brown was behind, But not to let Brown see me doing it. Brown passed us. We dined off his dust for a league-- It really was very poor fun-- Till, our car showed symptoms of heat and fatigue, Reggie had to admit he was done. To my soft consolation scant heed did he pay, But with taps was continually juggling, And his words, "Will you keep your dress further away?" Put a stop to this incipient smuggling. "He'd never have passed me alone," Reggie sighed, "The car's extra heavy with you." "Why ask me to come?" I remarked. He replied, "I thought she'd go better with two." When I touched other topics, forbearingly meek, From his goggles the lightnings came scattering, "What chance do you give me of placing this squeak," He hissed, "when you keep up that chattering?" At that, I insisted on being set down And returning to London by train, And I vowed fifty times on my way back to town That I never would see him again. Next week he appeared and implored me to wed, With a fondly adoring humility. "The car stands between us," I rigidly said. "I've sold it!" he cried with agility. His temples were sunken, enfeebled his frame, There was white in the curls on his crest; When he spoke of our ride in a whisper of shame I flew to my home on his breast. By running sedately I'm certain that Love To such passion would never have carried us, Which settles the truth of the legend above-- It was really the motor-car married us. * * * * * Illustration: _Miller_ (_looking after cyclist, who has a slight touch of motor mania_). "Well, to be sure! There do be some main ignorant chaps out o' London. 'E comes 'ere askin' me 'ow many 'orse power the old mill ad got." * * * * * Illustration: _Cyclist_ (_whose tyre has become deflated_). "Have you such a thing as a pump?" _Yokel._ "'Ees, miss, there's one i' the yard." _Cyclist._ "I should be much obliged if you would let me use it." _Yokel._ "That depends 'ow much you want. Watter be main scarce wi' us this year! Oi'll ask feyther." * * * * * Illustration: _Smart Girl_ (_to keen motorist_). "My sister has bought a beautiful motor-car." _Keen Motorist._ "Really! What kind?" _Smart Girl._ "Oh, a lovely sage green, to go with her frocks." * * * * * Illustration: _Mrs. Binks_ (_who has lost control of her machine_). "Oh, oh, Harry! Please get into a bank soon. I must have something soft to fall on!" * * * * * Illustration: _Miss Heavytopp._ "I'm afraid I'm giving you a lot of bother, but then, it's only my _first_ lesson!" _Exhausted Instructor_ (_sotto voce_). "I only hope it won't be my _last_!" * * * * * Illustration: SORROWS OF A "CHAUFFEUR" _Ancient Dame._ "What d'ye say? They call he a 'shuvver,' do they? I see. They put he to walk behind and shove 'em up the hills, I reckon." * * * * * A CYCLE OF CATHAY.--_The Yorkshire Evening Post_, in reporting the case of a motor-cyclist charged with travelling at excessive speed on the highway at Selby, represents a police-sergeant as stating that "he timed defendant over a distance of 633 years, which was covered in 64 secs." The contention of the defendant that he had been "very imperfectly timed" has an air of captiousness. * * * * * "Many roads in the district are unfit for motorists," is the report of the Tadcaster surveyor to his council. We understand the inhabitants have resolved to leave well alone. * * * * * At a meeting of the Four Wheeler's Association, a speaker boasted, with some justification, that a charge which is brought every day against drivers of motor-cars has never been brought against members of their Association, namely, that of driving at an excessive speed. * * * * * Rumour is again busy with the promised appearance of a motor-bus which is to be so quiet that you will not know that there is one on the road until you have been run over. * * * * * Illustration: AN UNPARDONABLE MISTAKE.--_Short-sighted Old Lady._ "Porter!" * * * * * Illustration: NOSCE TEIPSUM.--_Lady Cyclist_ (_touring in North Holland_). "What a ridiculous costume!" * * * * * Illustration: _Sporting Constable_ (_with stop-watch--on "police trap" duty, running excitedly out from his ambush, to motorist just nearing the finish of the measured furlong_). "For 'evin's sake, guv'nor, let 'er rip, and ye'll do the 220 in seven and a 'arf!" * * * * * MY MOTOR CAP [Motor-caps, we are informed, have created such a vogue in the Provinces, that ladies, women and factory girls may be seen wearing them on every occasion, though unconnected, in other respects, with modern methods of locomotion.] A motor car I shall never afford With a gay vermilion bonnet, Of course I _might_ happen to marry a lord, But it's no good counting on it. I have never reclined on the seat behind, And hurtled across the map, But my days are blest with a mind at rest, For I wear a motor cap. I am done with Gainsborough, straw and toque, My dresses are bound with leather, I turn up my collar like auto-folk, And stride through the pitiless weather; With a pound of scrag in an old string bag, In a tram with a child on my lap, Wherever I go, to shop or a show, I wear a motor cap. I don't know a silencer from a clutch, A sparking-plug from a bearing, But no one, I think, is in closer touch With the caps the women are wearing; I'm _au fait_ with the trim of the tailor-made brim, The crown and machine-stitched strap; Though I've neither the motor, the sable-lined coat, nor The goggles--I wear the cap. * * * * * Illustration: No, this isn't a collection of tubercular microbes escaping from the congress; but merely the Montgomery-Smiths in their motor-car, enjoying the beauties of the country. * * * * * LINES BY A REJECTED AND DEJECTED CYCLIST You do not at this juncture Feel, as I, the dreadful smart, And you scorn the cruel puncture Of the tyre of my heart! But mayhap, at some Life-turning, When the wheel has run untrue, You will know why I was burning, And was scorched alone, by you! * * * * * Illustration: FINIS BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE 
29463	----	[This plain-text file, containing only the captions to Richard Doyle's drawings, is included for completeness. The HTML version includes all drawings and decorative text. Except for "The Review" and some decorative headers, the entire book was printed in CAPITAL LETTERS. It has been reformatted for readability; capitalization decisions are the transcriber's. Text shown in +marks+ was printed in decorative blackletter type.] The Foreign Tour of Messrs BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON. Being the History of What They Saw, and Did in Belgium, Germany, Switzerland & Italy. by Richard Doyle. London. Bradbury & Evans. Whitefriars. * * * * * * * * * [LONDON.] The mail train to Dover. Brown, Jones, and Robinson starting on their travels. [OSTEND.] After a rough passage, Brown, Jones, and Robinson are here seen landed at Ostend, surrounded, and a little bewildered, by the natives, who overwhelm them with attentions--seize the luggage, thrust cards into their hands, drag them in several directions at once, all talking together (which prevented their directions being so clear as they otherwise would have been)--and, finally, all expecting money! They are at the Douane, waiting for the officials to search the luggage. Robinson and Jones (alarmed by expression of Brown's countenance). --"What's the matter now?" Brown (in a voice of agony). --"I've left the key of my bag at home!" [OSTEND TO COLOGNE.] A sketch made at Malines. How they saw Belgium. [COLOGNE.] THE ARRIVAL AT COLOGNE. Travellers passing their examination. In the foreground is Jones's portmanteau undergoing the "ordeal by touch." Manner and custom of the people, as seen from the railway by Brown, and made a note of. B. J. and R., who took their places on the roof the better to command the view, are seen at the moment when the idea occurred to the two former that they might possibly not "fit" under the archway. Robinson is so wrapped up in thought, and a cigar, that he is unconscious of all else. This represents the Cologne omnibus on its journey from the station into the city, when stopped by the military, and made to "stand and deliver" the passports. Arrival at the hotel, and first coming in sight of that amiable and obliging race, the German waiter. He is small in stature (scarcely the size of life, as Jones remarked), and remains always a boy. "Speise-Saal" hotel, Cologne-- Enter Brown, Jones, and Robinson, fatigued, and somewhat disordered by travel, and "so hungry." How an agent of Jean Maria Farina addressed them, who was kind enough to put some of the celebrated "Eau" upon their handkerchiefs, and to receive orders for the same. The real Eau de Cologne, and its effect upon the noses of three illustrious individuals. "Kellner" presents the bill. They "do" Cologne cathedral. [COLOGNE TO BONN.] The railway from Cologne to Bonn. --B. J. and R. "Just in time." First glimpse of Rhine scenery. [BONN.] Jones's little all is contained in this small portmanteau. Robinson, on the contrary, finds it quite impossible to move with less than this. This scene represents the Rhine boat about to start from Bonn, and passengers from the railway embarking. In the foreground an accident has occurred, a porter having upset the luggage of an English family, the head of which is saluting him with the national "Damn," while the courier of the party expresses the same idea in German. [THE RHINE.] BROWN'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF THE RHINE. _From an ORIGINAL SKETCH in the possession of his family._ HEADS OF THE NATIVES. _A Leaf from Brown's Sketch Book._ COMPANY ON BOARD THE RHINE BOAT. Amongst them was a travelling tutor, and three young gentlemen, his pupils. He stood in the midst of them smiling blandly, an open volume in his hand, (probably a classic author,) between which, and his pupils, and the scenery, he divided his attention in about equal parts. There was a specimen of the English grumbler, big, burly, and as if in danger of choking from the tightness of his cravat. Every one knows him, his pleasant ways, and his constant flow of good humour and cheerfulness; that is he, sitting to the right. There were besides, numerous young gentlemen from the universities, from the army, from the bar, all with more or less hair on their upper lips; and there was a cavalry officer of the Russian guard, and a professor, on his way to Heidelberg, and loose, dishevelled, hairy, smoky young Germans, with long beards, and longer pipes. And there was a British nobleman, and a British alderman, and a British alderwoman; and there were British ladies whom I can't describe, because they wore those "ugly" things which prevent them being seen; intelligent young Americans on their way all over the world; nuns, with their quiet, happy faces; Red Republicans from Frankfort, and snobs from London. THE GREAT BRITON. As he stood contemplating the Rhine-land, wondering if it would be possible to live in that country; and considering (supposing he had one of those castles, now) how many thousands a-year one could do it with. The scenery would do; and with English institutions it might be made a good thing of. N.B. --He little thinks what Brown is doing. Even the nun was not safe from Brown. He is here seen taking her off, in a rapid act of sketching. B. J. and R. had just begun to enjoy the scenery, when, to their consternation, who should appear on board but the "Bore," who instantly was down upon them. For three mortal hours he entertained them with fashionable intelligence, anecdotes of the aristocracy, the court circular, births, deaths, marriages, &c. This was supposed to be an M.P. travelling in search of "facts." He is giving Brown his views; and also the statistics of everything. A VIEW ON THE RHINE. THE LONDON GENT UP THE RHINE. He is taken at the moment when expressing his opinion that the whole concern is a "do" and a "sell." BRITISH FARMER AND SON IN FOREIGN PARTS. They both wore a perpetual grin and stare of surprise, Jones thought that they had taken leave of England and their senses at once, owing to the withdrawal of protection. THE RHINE BOAT. Brown may be seen seated there upon the paddle-box, rapidly sketching every church, ruined castle, town, or other object of interest on either bank of the river. Those are Jones and Robinson, leaning over the side of the boat below him. Observe, also, the stout party who has called for brandy-and-water, and whose countenance almost lapses into a smile as "Kellner" approaches with the beverage. The tutor, it is pleasant to see, has at last put his "Classic" in his pocket, and gives himself up to the undivided enjoyment of the scene, while his "young charge" is wrapped in contemplation of mechanical science as exemplified in the structure of the wheel. And that must surely be the gent who has such a low opinion of the beauty of the Rhine-land, seated at the stern of the boat with his legs dangling over the river. Let us hope that he is happy now! THE ENGLISH "MILORD" UPON THE RHINE. How happy he looks! He dislikes the hum of men, and sits all day shut up in his carriage reading the literature of his country. How rude of those Germans to be laughing and joking so near his lordship! PERFECT ENJOYMENT. [COBLENTZ.] Indignation of Robinson, at sight of inadequate washing apparatus. He rang the bell with such violence, that all the waiters rushed in, thinking that the hotel was on fire, or that a revolution had broken out. There he stood, pointing to the water, about half a pint in a basin the size of a breakfast cup; and in a voice of suppressed emotion, demanding to know if "Das ist, etc." JONES'S NIGHT THOUGHTS. "Man wants but little here below," _but_ "wants that little long." If you should forget the number of your key and room (_as BROWN did on returning late from the theatre_), what are you to do? +An Incident in the Life of Jones's Dog.+ How this animal seemed to have imbibed communistic principles, and how he stole a sausage, and how the population rose like one man, and hunted him through the town. The dog having outstripped the populace, proceeds to eat the sausage. Having done so, he looks stouter than he did, and is inclined to rest. The inhabitants, eager for vengeance, surround him, but are kept at bay by the expression of his countenance. One burly peasant having the hardihood to approach too near, he is made as example of. _Exeunt omnes._ [THE RHINE.] Brown, with noble perseverance, sits upon the paddle-box, regardless of the storm, and sketches the castles and towns, as the steam-boat passes them. --Till in a moment of grief his hat and several sketches were carried off for ever: and then he thought it time to go below. How a citizen of the United States addressed Brown; and how he put the following questions during the first five minutes of their acquaintance. 1. "Where are you going?" 2. "What place do you hail from?" 3. "Conclude you go toe Frankfort?" 4. "You're Mr. Brown, I reckon?" 5. "What names do your friends go by?" Statements made during the same period. 1. "This here Rhine ain't much by the side of our Mississippi." 2. "Old Europe is 'tarnally chawed up." BROWN'S HAT. Robinson was very merry about this incident, and both he and Jones kept poking fun at Brown during the rest of the day. They parodied the well known song of "My heart's on the Rhine," substituting "My hat's in the Rhine;"--(it was very poor stuff, we have been assured by Brown)--and they made pointed allusions to the name of "Wide-Awake." The above drawing is from a rude sketch by Jones. THE SCENERY BECOMES MYSTERIOUS. They now became enveloped in what seemed a combination of fog (London November) and mist (Scotch). Only think of those two national institutions going up the Rhine with the rest of the fashionable world. At first it obscured the hill tops, with the ruins thereon; then the villages and vineyards below; and finally both banks of the river entirely disappeared. The company on board the steamboat did not, at this period, present the most cheerful aspect. [MAYENCE TO FRANKFORT.] How Robinson's favourite portmanteau, which he had forgotten to lock, was dropped accidentally by a porter while conveying it to the omnibus. Jones hints to Robinson that it is time to get up. [FRANKFORT.] How they visited a "quarter" of the city of Frankfort, and what they saw there! Robinson here wrote his celebrated letter to the "Times," on the subject of the deficiency of soap and water, from which, as we have seen in a former page, he suffered so grievously. It was conceived in terms of indignant eloquence; and drew a terrible picture of the state of social, political, and religious degradation into which a country must have sunk, where such things could be tolerated. As they walked through the town, bent upon seeing the Ariadne, and unconscious of danger, suddenly an object appeared in sight that filled them with terror. It was the "Bore!" stepping jauntily along on the other side of the street. To hesitate was to be lost! So they plunged into the nearest shop for protection, and stood there breathless with expectation and fear. Presently Jones--putting his head very gradually out--reconnoitred, and finding all safe they resumed their way. Robinson thinks it "the thing" to encourage native industry wherever he goes, and so buys a German pipe. [HEIDELBERG.] "Kellner!" While Brown, Jones, and Robinson supped, a party of philosophers carry on an æsthetical discussion, with an accompaniment of pipes and beer. "* * * The night was beautiful, so we determined after supper to have a look at the celebrated castle--Jones and I did, that is to say, for Robinson was so fatigued with travel that he declined moving, muttering something about 'Castle can wait.' We ascended; the moon shone brightly through the ruins, and bathed the landscape in its silvery light, the beautiful Neckar flowing at our feet. Under us lay the town, a thousand lights twinkling in the stillness." *  * "Suddenly, to our horror, there appeared upon the terrace 'The Bore!'" --_Extract from Brown's Journal._ "At last he left us. But not before he had taken from his pocket a letter received that morning from Green ('You know Green, of course,' he said, 'everybody does'), and read it aloud from beginning to end. It told of a 'good thing' said at the club by Smith; and of two marriages, and a duel likely to come off, besides several interesting particulars regarding the winner of the St. Leger." --_Ibid._ When Jones and Brown were left once more alone, they wandered and pondered amongst the ruins, and moralised over the instability of things--they were even becoming sentimental--when, suddenly, a terrific sound was heard--like the barking of a dog--and the next moment the animal himself was seen emerging from the darkness, and making towards them at the top of his speed. They turned and fled! Meeting by moonlight. Robinson, after the departure of Jones and Brown, seated himself before the fire and fell fast asleep. He continued in that state, notwithstanding that the philosophers became very noisy, and even warlike. --And although--after the latter had retired (fortunately without coming to blows)--his chair toppled over, he quietly assumed a horizontal position. Fancy the feelings of Jones and Brown on returning, and finding their friend lying on his back upon the floor, snoring! They lifted him up, and carried him off to bed. Next morning they entertained Robinson with a thrilling account of the dangers of their expedition, in which that dreadful dog filled a very large space. The above will give some faint idea of what they pictured to themselves (and to Robinson). [THE REVIEW.] Brown, Jones, and Robinson have arrived at ----, the capital of ----, a small German state (we won't say which, as it would be giving it an undue distinction, and might offend the others). They have been received with distinguished consideration, the "local" paper having announced their arrival as Count Robinson, Sir Brown, and the Rev. Jones. They have been invited to be present at a grand review, and Robinson--who amongst other necessaries in those portmanteaus of his, carried a uniform as Captain of Yeomanry--thought that this was just the proper occasion to appear in it. Accordingly, he rode on to the ground upon a charger (hired), in the character of a warrior, with a solemnity of countenance befitting the scene and his country, and accompanied by Jones (also mounted), but in the costume of an ordinary individual of the period. Brown preferred going on foot. That is Robinson in the centre. Just at the time when he ought to be riding up the line, inspecting the troops with the Grand Duke and his staff--his horse (a "disgusting brute," as Robinson afterwards described him, "who could not have been in the habit of carrying gentlemen") suddenly stood on his hind legs, in the very middle of the field, so that his rider was forced to cling on to him in an absurd manner, in full view of the army, the people, and the court. R. at that moment earnestly desired that the earth might open and swallow him. KEY TO THE CARTOON. 1. Robinson. 2. The Grand Duke. 3. The Crown Prince. 4. The Rest of the Serene Family. 5. Mr. Jones. 6. The Population. 7. Mr. Jones's Dog. 8. Mr. Brown. 9. The Army. 10. Distant View of the Capital. 11. Foreign Visitors. 12. Monument to late Duke. [BADEN.] A SCENE AT BADEN. THE RIGHT OF SEARCH. +Of the Adventure that befel Jones.+ I. Jones's dog having come upon a sentinel, and struck, perhaps, by his small size compared with the sentinels he is used to, commences to say, "Bow!--wow!--wow!--wew--u--u!" The soldier, offended by these remarks, presents for the animal's consideration, the point of his bayonet. II. Jones expostulates, with that freedom of speech which is the birthright of every Englishman. III. But obtaining no satisfaction, calls on the miserable foreigner to "Come on." IV. First (and last) round. --The soldier did "Come on," frowning. Jones received him, smiling. --The soldier made play with his musket: Jones put in his left. They closed, and a terrific struggle ensued, in the course of which Jones got his adversary's "Nob" into "Chancery." V. The soldier, at this point, unable to use his arms, took to his legs, and administered a series of kicks upon the shins of Jones, who in return seized him, lifted him in the air, and threw him. VI. Then, considering that justice and the honour of his country were alike satisfied, he retired, leaving the body of his antagonist on the field. VII. Shows the "body," on discovering that life was not extinct, attempting to rise. P.S. --He was last seen making frantic efforts to regain his feet, and seemingly prevented from doing so by the weight of his knapsack, and other accoutrements. VIII. Jones was late at breakfast; he found Robinson reading "Galignani," and Brown looking out of window, and after giving them an amusing account of the fun he had had, was just sitting down to the table, when Brown shouted out, "By Jove, there is a regiment of soldiers coming down the street!" IX. At first Jones was incredulous; but presently Brown, his hair standing on end, rushed towards him, and in a voice of agony, cried, "As sure as we are alive they have stopped in front of the house, and the _OFFICER IS COMING IN!_" X. It was too true. The soldiers had come to look after the Englishman who had attacked and beaten their comrade. XI. After a few moments of breathless suspense, the officer enters--Jones stands like a man about to struggle with adversity. XII. Nevertheless he is arrested and marched off. XIII. Robinson, in agony, calls for his coat and hat, "For," as he cried out to Brown, "not a moment is to be lost in endeavouring to see the British Minister." XIV. They gain an audience of His Excellency the British Minister, and ask his interference in behalf of a persecuted countryman. We are happy to add that the interference was quite successful. Jones was liberated immediately, and shortly afterwards the British Minister for Foreign Affairs, in a despatch to the German Minister for the same, expressed his conviction that "The whole civilised world reprobated, with one voice, a system at once tyrannical and cruel, a remnant of the darkest ages of man's history, and utterly unworthy of the present era of progress and enlightenment." Our friends were advised, however, to leave the country as soon and as quietly as possible. They departed accordingly. [BADEN TO BASLE.] Head-dresses of peasantry. A sketch on the road to Basle. How Brown and Jones went in a third class carriage (Robinson would not; it did not seem "respectable"), that they might see the natives, and how B. drew the portrait of one, to her evident dissatisfaction. The omnibus besieged and taken by storm. [BASLE.] "The height of the omnibusses is quite disgusting." --_Extract from unpublished documents in possession of ROBINSON, who himself fell in the mud, while climbing from the roof of one of those vehicles._ Scene from the road, near Basle. Storks' nest, Basle. [SWITZERLAND.] BOAT STATION ON THE LAKE OF LUCERNE; AS SKETCHED BY BROWN FROM THE STEAMER. According to the guide-book, the paintings on the wall represent Furst, Stauffach, and Melchthal, swearing to liberate their country; but Jones said he believed them to be portraits of a medieval Swiss Brown, Jones, and Robinson, in the act of vowing eternal friendship. The safest way of coming down a mountain. "We got out of the diligence (at a time when it was obliged to go very slowly), in order to make an excursion on foot in search of the picturesque, being told that we might meet the carriage at a certain point, about a mile further on. We saw many magnificent views, and did a great deal of what might be called rough walking; but perhaps the thing that struck us most was, that on emerging at the appointed spot for rejoining the diligence, we beheld it a speck in the distance, just departing out of sight." --_Extract from Jones's Journal._ The seven ages of Robinson's beard. What are they to do now? DESCENT OF THE ST. GOTHARD. Having taken their places on the outside of the diligence, Brown, Jones, and Robinson can the better enjoy the grandeur of the scenery. They see Italy in the distance. A meeting on the mountain. Pilgrims coming _down_ the "Hill of Difficulty." [ITALY.] BREAKFAST AT BELLINZONA. It was their first day in Italy, and how they did enjoy it! The repast was served in a stone summer-house attached to the hotel. The sun was so bright, and so hot; the sky was so blue, the vegetation so green, the mountains so purple, the grapes so large, and everything so beautiful, that Brown and Jones both decided that the scene fully realised all their imaginings of Italy. Robinson was enthusiastic, too, at first, and was beginning to say something about "Italia, O Italia," when his eye lit upon a green lizard running up the wall. From that moment he was more subdued. How they got Robinson up the hills. [ITALIAN LAKES.] They land upon Austrian territory en route for Milan. While the "proper officer" takes possession of their passports, the whole available population pounces upon the luggage, and, after apportioning it into "small allotments," carries it off to the custom house. The official here is seen "pointing" on the scent (as he thinks) of contraband goods in one of Robinson's portmanteaus. He did not "find," but in the hunt, tossed R.'s "things" dreadfully. Brown revenged the wrongs of self and friends, by taking a full length, on the spot, of that imposing administrator, who stands over there, with the passports in his hand. "Excelsior!" An Italian view. "Buon giorno." EVENING ON THE LAGO MAGGIORE. "'Knowest thou the land' where the grapes are as plentiful as blackberries in England; and where one has only to stop a minute at the roadside, and pull no end of 'em. O 'tis there! 'tis there! etc." --_Robinson's letters to his kinsfolk._ MARIE. Oh! Marie of the Lago d'Orta, maid of the inn, and most beautiful of waitresses, how well do I remember thee! How graceful were all thy movements; what natural ease, together with what a dignified reserve; --How truly a lady wert thou! You did not know it, but when you waited upon us, I always felt inclined to jump up from my chair, and open the door for you-- to take the dishes from your hands, to ask you respectfully to be seated, to wait upon you in fact. And O! How I did detest that wicked old landlady, your mistress, who used to bully and scold you. And I wonder whether you remember me. --_From a MS., very rare, in possession of Brown._ This picture represents Brown as he appeared, his feelings being "too many for him," on hearing that elderly she-dragon, the landlady, venting her ill-humour upon the gentle Marie. He stole out of the dining-room, looked over into the yard, and there beheld the furious old female shaking her fist, and pouring forth a torrent of abuse. Brown was not naturally of a savage temperament, but at that moment he felt that he could have--but it is best not to say what he could have done--it was too terrible for publication in these pages. A BOAT AT ORTA. A MOUNTAIN WALK. Robinson, with warmth, and some distance behind,-- "What is the use of going on at that rate?" Poor Jones! Who would have thought he could ever be tired! Pleasant. The accident that befell Robinson. --No. 1. The accident that befell Robinson. --No. 2. [ORTA.] ROBINSON RETIRES FOR THE NIGHT. To prevent anxiety, we had better state that he is tired--nothing else. "Now do, Robinson, jump up like a good fellow; we ought to be starting now--and think how pleasant it will be, once you are up!" [VARALLO.] THE INN. How Brown, returning from sketching, was beset by beggars in a lonely place. [MILAN.] They pay a visit to the marionette theatre. A snob they saw writing his name upon roof of Milan cathedral. ENLIGHTENED BEHAVIOUR IN A FOREIGN CHURCH. We are happy to say, that B. J. and R. had no connection with the above party. Robinson's determination to let his beard grow "naturally," had an absurd result, the hair growing in violent and abrupt crops in some places, and not at all in others; so that Jones, who was sensitive about appearances, (and whose own moustache was doing beautifully,) insisted at last upon R.'s being shaved, which event accordingly took place in the city of Milan. It was well that Robinson consented, for the barber eyed him eagerly, and as if he would spring upon him and shave him by force. CAFÉ MILAN.--SUDDEN AND UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNERS. The moment we seated ourselves in a café, an awful group of beggars stood before us--so suddenly that they appeared to have come up through a trap-door--and demanded alms. They would not go without money, and when they got it they took it as a right. It would not do for one of us to "settle" with them for the whole party, for no sooner had I given them a coin than they turned to Jones, and when done with him, coolly set upon Robinson. The instant one tribe departed, a fresh relais arrived, so that there was a constant supply (of beggars) and demand (on our purses). No place seemed safe: in the most magnificent and luxuriously-decorated cafés they had perfect right of way, the contrast between the rich gilding, glass, fountains, etc., of the one, and the rags, dirt, and dramatically got-up horrors of the other being picturesque, but certainly not pleasant; and yet, as Jones remarked, they say this country has not free institutions. [VERONA.] THE AMPHITHEATRE, VERONA. Jones asks Robinson, whether he "Sees before him the gladiator die?" but Robinson maintains a dignified silence. Austrian detective stops Brown to examine his sketching stool. It puzzles him. There is an air of mystery about it. It might possibly be a weapon to be used for political purposes, or an infernal machine! Who knows? On the whole, he thinks he had better detain it. SCENE--DISCOVERS BROWN SKETCHING. Enter the Austrian army. They advance upon him, they think he is taking the fortifications. Robinson, who is much given to quotation, is, at the very moment, languidly reciting the lines:-- "Am I in Italy? Is this the Mincius? And those the distant turrets of Verona? And shall I sup where Juliet at the masque Saw her loved Montague?" --etc., etc. Not being familiar with the German, or the Croatian language, Brown is helpless. He protests his innocence, but the military don't understand him. They see treason in his hat, which is of an illegal shape, and they arrest him. Jones and Robinson appear, to the surprise of the military, and relief of Brown. Brown, quite resigned, walks quietly to meet his fate. Jones plunges violently, but is finally overcome. Robinson resists passively, and is accordingly dragged along. SKETCHES FOUND UPON BROWN. They are brought before the Governor. That is he seated at the table, the soldiers showing him the libellous representations of the Croats found in Brown's portfolio. The latter expects to be ordered for instant execution; but Jones assumes an air of great dignity, and says, "_Civis Romanus sum_." The Governor, Field-Marshal Lieutenant Count Brown, of the Imperial service, discovers in his prisoner a near relation of his own; and our friend is instantly locked in the embrace of that distinguished warrior. Jones remarked "All's well that ends well;" and Robinson, greatly relieved, broke out with:-- "Thus may each" nephew "whom chance directs, Find an" uncle "when he least expects." [VENICE.] EXAMINATION OF PASSPORTS. HOTEL. MODERN VENETIAN TROUBADOURS. An evening scene before the Café Florian, Piazza San Marco. Brown at this period undertook, at the urgent request of Jones and Robinson, to settle the accounts of the party, which had become complicated owing to that perplexing "medium," to those unused to it, the Austrian paper money. This is a faithful picture of the unfortunate man as he sat, in the solitude of his chamber, until a late hour of the night, drawing up the "financial" statement. Robinson (_solo_). --"I stood in Venice," etc.; Jones and Brown, having heard something like it before, have walked on a little way. _Reflection made by BROWN._ --Why do people when repeating poetry always look unhappy? ENJOYMENT! A scene upon the Grand Canal. THE THEATRE MALIBRAN. The entertainment commenced at 5 P.M., and lasted till 7. It consisted of a melodrama, full of awful crimes, and the most pathetic sentiment. The audience, chiefly composed of "the people," was, from beginning to end, in an extraordinary state of excitement, fizzing, like the perpetual going off of soda-water. The theatre was lighted (?) by about four oil lamps; and such was the darkness, that our travellers--who may be seen, perhaps, through the "dim obscure," up in a private box--could scarcely discern anything but the white uniform and glittering bayonet of an Austrian sentinel in the pit. [A NIGHT IN VENICE.] BROWN RETIRED TO REST. MISERY. NOTE.-- If the Musquitos appear rather large in this and the following scenes, let it be remembered that in the "Heroic" it was a principle of many of the great painters to exaggerate the "parts." DESPERATION. MOMENTARY RELIEF. MADNESS! BELL!! BOOTS!! DESPAIR!!!! [VENICE.] THE ACCADEMIA. GONDOLA ON THE LAGOON. Sentiment spoken by Robinson, with marks of adhesion from Brown and Jones. "Oh, if there be an Elysium on earth, it is this, it is this!!" +The Accademia.+ Scene I. Brown (soliloquy). --"This is pleasant! To be quite alone here (dab), surrounded by these magnificent works (dab, dab, dab), and everything so quiet too--nothing to disturb one." (Dab) after a pause. "I wonder what Jones and Robinson are doing (dab, splash)--lying at full length in a gondola, I dare say--smoking (dab), I think I could spend my life in this place" (dab, dab). "It is difficult to say which is the greatest pleasure, (another dab,) copying these splendid pictures, or painting from nature, those beautiful blue skies and crumbling old picturesque palaces, outside." (Sings) --"'How happy could I be with either.'" (Prolonged pause, and great play with brush) --"Oh! That sunset last evening! As we lay out in our gondola upon the perfectly calm waters, by the Armenian convent, and watched the sun slowly going down behind the distant towers and spires of the 'City of the sea'--one mass of gold spreading all over the west!" *  * "Oh! Those clouds! (Another pause) Ah! That was happiness. One such hour is worth--let me see--how many years of one's life? *  * and yet this is--" Scene II. He is set upon and surrounded by an English family, and the following dialogue ensues:-- The Mamma. --"What a delightful occupation, to be sure." Young Lady (in a whisper). --"He is copying the Tintoret." Youthful Son and Heir (with confidence). --"No, he ain't; he's doing that stunning big one with the rainbow, and three river gods." Second Young Lady. --"It's sweetly pretty, isn't it!" Papa (a British merchant, and of a practical turn). --"Very good--v-e-r-y good. Ahem! Now I wonder what one could make a year by that kind of thing." Young Man (with glass in his eye). --"Slow, I should think." At this point Brown's attention was attracted to a scuffle going on behind him amongst the junior members of the party. Two of the little innocents had taken a fancy to the same drawing (a copy of his favourite John Bellino), and after a brief, but fierce struggle for possession, had settled the difficulty by tearing it in two. (Party retires rather precipitately.) [TRIESTE TO VIENNA.] SKETCH MADE BY BROWN AT TRIESTE. NOTE.--If any one doubts the fact, Jones and Robinson are ready to make affidavit of it. ROBINSON SEARCHED AND INDIGNANT. Such things never happen anywhere else. [VIENNA.] Arrived at Vienna, they visit the theatre. A gentleman there, unobtrusively pays them great attention. SCENE--SHOP, VIENNA. Jones to Brown-- "What do you say?" Brown (who sees that Robinson is bent upon making a "magnificent addition" to himself, and that it is useless to expostulate). --"Oh, I think it is splendid; and if you will only appear in it in Pall Mall, when we get home again, you will make a sensation." THEY VISIT THE PICTURE GALLERIES. That man in the doorway seems to take a great interest in their movements. THE PROMENADE. Brown thinks it is the same man! What can he want? THE PUBLIC GARDEN. There he was again! Jones suggested that perhaps it was a government official, who took them for liberty, equality, and fraternity. No sooner did they take their places at the Table d'Hote to dine, than Brown fell back in his chair. There could be no doubt about it--he was better dressed than before--but it was the same man! He must be a spy! Jones at the opera abroad. How unlike Jones at the opera at home. [VIENNA TO PRAGUE.] "Just ten minutes to dress, breakfast, and get to the train." [PRAGUE.] WALLENSTEIN'S HORSE. "The head, neck, legs, and part of the body have been repaired--all the rest is the real horse." --_From speech of the young woman who showed the animal._ A "KNEIPE" AT PRAGUE. Robinson is so confused with rapid travelling, that he addresses a waiter in three languages at once. "Kellner!-- Mittags-essen pour trois-- Presto presto-- and-- waiter!-- Soda water-- col cognac-- geschwind!" TABLE D'HOTE, PRAGUE. [PRAGUE TO COLOGNE.] "Passports!" --"That's the sixth time we have been woke up," groaned Robinson. [RHINELAND AGAIN.] DUSSELDORF. Brown _loq._ --I have left my bag behind! MINDEN. Here is the bag. How Brown was seated between two soldiers, and how they would examine each other's swords, and how those fearful weapons were flashing about, often within an inch of B.'S nose: and how (being of a mild and peaceful disposition), B. was kept thereby in a constant state of uneasiness. [BELGIUM.] Eye of the government; as kept upon the travellers, during their stay in the Austrian dominions. --_Drawn from the haunted imagination of Brown._ THEIR LAST REPAST IN FOREIGN PARTS. Time and train wait for no man. ARTICLES PURCHASED BY ROBINSON. 1. Eau de Cologne. 2. Pipe; (never smoked.) 3. Hat; (never worn, and found decidedly in the way.) 4. Cigars; (stopped at Custom House.) 5. Tauchnitz editions; (also seized.) 6. Cornet à pistons; (bought in Germany with the intention of learning to play upon it some day.) 7. Gloves; (purchased at Venice, a great bargain, and found utterly worthless.) [OLD ENGLAND.] +Sic(k) Transit+ +Gloria Mundi!+ * * * * * * * * * BRADBURY AND EVANS, Printers extraordinary to the queen, Whitefriars. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Errors and Iconsistencies (noted by transcriber): They both wore a perpetual grin and stare of surprise, [comma in original: error for period (full stop)?] 3. "Conclude you go toe Frankfort?" [text unchanged] An evening scene before the Café Florain [error for Florian] If the Musquitos appear rather large [variant spelling unchanged] +Of the Adventure that befel Jones.+ The accident that befell Robinson. [inconsistent spelling unchanged] 
33918	----	[Illustration] WITH THE CHILDREN PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: MUCH ADO.--"Mamma-a-a! Boo-hoo! We's crying! Tum up 'tairs an' see what's de matter wiv us!"] MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] AS PICTURED BY PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, GORDON BROWNE, L. RAVEN-HILL, CHARLES PEARS, LEWIS BAUMER, DAVID WILSON, TOM BROWNE, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, C. E. BROCK, TOM WILKINSON, HILDA COWHAM, AND OTHER HUMORISTS _IN 175 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * EDITOR'S NOTE [Illustration] In the order of our Library "Mr. Punch with the Children" comes last, yet, so continual and sincere has been the interest of the breezy little man in the children, we might well have placed this volume first. The _Punch_ pictures, stories and jests that are concerned with the young folk are almost inexhaustible. The present collection, though containing the cream of them, comes very far indeed from reproducing them all, or even fifty per cent. For every notable artist and writer who has been much associated with _Punch_ since 1841 has had something to say or to illustrate of the humours of child life. If genius be the power to be a child again at will, we can understand this abiding interest in the doings of the children. MR. PUNCH himself resembles Peter Pan, for he has never grown up. The years roll by, but the jolly little hunchback remains as young as ever. The variety of individuality in the children, to whom we are here introduced, is noteworthy. In the days of Leech, downright impudence seems to have been a characteristic of the young; to-day it would seem children are better mannered, even if the _enfant terrible_ is still thriving and likely to do so. There are nice children here, and naughty ones; clever and dull children; pretty and ugly children--the mischievous are chiefly memories of last generation! Phil May's children are all clearly of the "gutter snipe" order, in which he delighted, full of character and a somewhat pathetic humour; but how clean and sweet and lovable are Du Maurier's or Mr. Lewis Baumer's! Mr. Raven-Hill seems to be attracted somewhat in the same direction as Phil May; but all are interesting, and their sayings and doings are eminently worthy to be thus permanently gathered into one volume. * * * * * [Illustration: Boy (_looking forward to a party in the evening_). "Oh, mummy, baby _is_ naughty! He has taken two things off the calendar, and made it to-morrow!"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration: A STUDY IN EXPRESSION] A SERIOUS MATTER.--_Grandfather_ (_to Miss Pansy, who is somewhat flushed and excited_). What's the matter, my pet? _Miss Pansy_ (_aged eight_). Oh, grandpa, me and my kitten have been having the most awful row. We've often quarrelled before and made it up again, but this time we're not on speaking terms. * * * * * [Illustration: _Bobbie_ (_dictating letter to his sister, whom he has "squared" into writing for him_). "Dear Miss Brown, please xcuse Bobbie for not bean at school sinse Tewsday has he as add twothake on Tewsday and on Wednesday he broke is harm and he ad to go to a party yesterday afternoon. If he does not come to-morrow it will be because a boy thrue a stoan at is i.--Yours trooly, Bobbie's mother."] * * * * * [Illustration: PRESENCE OF MIND.--_Little Girl_ (_who has been disturbed by a mouse, in a stage-whisper to her sleeping sister_). "Wake up! Oh, wake up and mew, Amy; mew for your life!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNIMAGINATIVE _Auntie._ "Do you see the hair in this old brooch, Cyril? It was your great-grandfather's." _Cyril._ "I say, Auntie, he didn't have much!"] * * * * * _Auntie._ Well, Effie, did you enjoy your party last night? _Effie._ Very much, thank you, auntie. _Auntie._ And I suppose mamma was there to look after you? _Effie._ Oh no! Mamma and I _don't belong_ to the same set! * * * * * [Illustration: NICE NEPHEW! _Tommy._ "Talking of riddles, Uncle, do you know the difference between an apple and a elephant?" _Uncle_ (_benignly_). "No, my lad, I don't." _Tommy._ "You'd be a smart chap to send out to buy apples, wouldn't you?"] * * * * * A PRECAUTIONARY MEASURE.--"Now go to school, and be a good boy. And mind you don't use any rude words!" "Rude words! _Tell_ me a few, mummy, and then I shall _know_, you know!" * * * * * [Illustration: A "CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR" _Governess._ "Now, just one more subtraction sum----" _Dolly._ "Oh, Miss Crawford, I don't fink mummie would let me do any more of _those_ sums, 'cause in them you borrow _ten_ and pay back only _one_, and that's cheating!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GREAT AMBITION _Little Girl_ (_watching her mother fixing hatpins through her hat_). "When will _I_ be old enough, mummy, to have holes made in _my_ head to keep my hat on?"] * * * * * [Illustration: REHEARSAL FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS ON BOXING-DAY.--_Master Brown_ (_leading tragedian, who has been studying a fearful blood-curdling old melodrama, entering suddenly)_. "Here are the letters. Two million pounds is the price of my silence!"] * * * * * WALKING HOME FROM THE PANTOMIME.--_Little Chris_ (_who usually goes to bed very early_). Mamma, have all the angels been to Drury Lane to-night? _Mamma._ No, darling? Why? _Little Chris_ (_pointing to the stars_). 'Cause they've kept the lamps up there lighted so late. * * * * * [Illustration: OUR CHRISTMAS TEA.--_Unregenerate Youth._ "Pass the seedy caike!" _Vicar's Daughter._ "If----? If----?" _Unregenerate Youth._ "If 'e don't I'll shove 'im in the faice!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PROBLEM. _Samuel._ "Muvver, does a hen lay an egg when it _likes_ or _must_ it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GRAND-DAUGHTER OF EVE.--_Mamma_ (_to Molly, who has scratched and bitten her French nurse, and who won't be sorry for her behaviour_). "Oh, Molly, don't you know who it is puts such wicked thoughts into your head?" _Molly._ "Ah, yes, the _scratching_! But to _bite_ Félicie was quite my own idea!"] * * * * * ROGUES FALLING OUT.--_Mamma._ What is baby crying for, Maggie? _Maggie._ I don't know. _Mamma._ And what are _you_ looking so 'ndignant about? _Maggie._ That nasty, greedy dog's been and took and eaten my 'punge-take! _Mamma._ Why, I saw you eating a sponge-cake a minute ago! _Maggie._ O--that was baby's! * * * * * A SCIENTIFIC NURSERY DEFINITION.--_Little Algy Muffin._ What's the meaning of bric-à-brac, that mamma was talking about to Colonel Crumpet? _Little Chris Crumpet._ Those things we mustn't play bricks with, a-fear we'll break them. * * * * * POETRY FOR SCHOOLBOYS.--Little Tommy Tender, who received a flogging the week before his holidays, says his feelings were the contrary of those felt by the poet, when he penned the touching line-- "My grief lies onward, and my joy behind." * * * * * [Illustration: LOGICAL.--_Little Bobby_ (_whose mamma is very particular, and is always telling him to wash his face and hands_). "Mummy dear! I do wish I was a little black boy." _Mamma._ "My dear Bobby, you generally are." _Little Bobby._ "Oh, I mean _really_ black. _Then_ you wouldn't see when I was dirty."] * * * * * [Illustration: EVERYTHING CAN BE EXPLAINED _Cissie_ (_who has never seen an Archdeacon before_). "Dick, that old clergyman has got gaiters on. What does it mean when a clergyman wears gaiters?" _Dick_ (_who knows everything_). "Oh, it means that he belongs to the cyclist corps!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WHAT MAISIE KNEW" _Kind Aunt._ "You needn't be afraid of my little pug, Maisie. He won't bite you." _Maisie._ "No, auntie. But he might kick!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Bobby._ "Do you know what daddy calls you, Mr. Tovey?" _Mr. Tovey._ "No Bobby. What is it?" _Bobby._ "He calls you Port Arthur, 'cause you take so long to surrender!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Girl_ (_to mother, who has just read notice_). "I suppose, mother, it doesn't mention _which_ half of the poor thing we are to look for?"] * * * * * JUVENILE GEOGRAPHY.--_Governess._ The earth moves round the sun ... it takes a whole year to complete the round ... and this accounts for the four seasons. What are the four seasons of the year, Phyllis? _Phyllis_ (_aged_ five). This year, next year, sometime, never. * * * * * "IT'S A WISE CHILD THAT KNOWS ITS OWN FATHER."--_Grace._ Harold, why did pa call that Mr. Blowhard a liar? _Harold._ 'Cos he's smaller than pa! * * * * * A LITTLE LEARNING.--_Teacher._ And who was Joan of Arc? _Scholar._ Please, sir, Noah's wife. * * * * * A LITTLE STEPMOTHER.--_Uncle._ Hullo! Dot, got a new doll? _Little Miss Dot._ Hush, uncle, don't speak too loud. She is not one of my own, but belonged to Millie Simpson, who was cruel to her and 'bandoned her, so I have 'dopted her; but I don't want her to know, because I mean to make no difference between her and my own dollies. * * * * * [Illustration: A POSER _Katie_ (_in consternation_). "Oh, mother, how _will_ Santa Claus do about that poor man's stockings?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RETURN INVITATION.--"Please, Mrs. Subbubs, mamma says she'll be glad if you'll come to tea on Monday." "With pleasure, Bessie. Tell your mother it's really too kind----" "Oh, no! mamma says she'll be glad when it's over."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Did our hat-rack walk about and have only two pegs, once, auntie?"] * * * * * [Illustration: STABLE TALK.--_The General._ "That's a funny sort of horse you've got there, Cuthbert." _Cuthbert._ "Yes, gran'pa. You see he's been 'eating his head off' all the winter!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Severe Mother._ "You naughty boy! How dare you tell such stories? Aren't you ashamed of yourself for being a little liar?" _Injured Son._ "Well, mother, 't ain't my fault. Father gave me a awful thrashing the other day for having spoken the truth." _Mother._ "What _do_ you mean?" _Son._ "Why, when I told you that father had come home quite drunk the night before!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "IN STRANGE ATTIRE" "Nurse! Nurse! Bobby's out of bed, and running about in his _bananas_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROOF "You won't go in that dark room alone by yourself, Tommy." "Oh! won't I? You just _come with me_, and see me do it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INCONTROVERTIBLE "And how _old_ are you, my little man?" "I'm not old at all. I'm nearly _new_!"] * * * * * THE FORCE OF CLASSIC TEACHING.--_Master._ Now, boys, what is Hexham famous for? _Binks Minor._ Making the hexameter, sir. [_Waits afterwards._ * * * * * PROVERBS REVISED.--"_One is better than two._" _Mother._ You are a very naughty little girl! _Little Girl_ (_after some thought_). Aren't you glad I wasn't twins, mummy? * * * * * [Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD _Mild Old Gentleman rescues a bun which child has dropped in the mud._ _Child_ (_all aglow with righteous indignation_). "That's _my_ bun!"] * * * * * TRUE SENTIMENT.--"I'm writing to Mrs. Montague, Georgie--that pretty lady you used to take to see your pigs. Haven't you some nice message to send her?" "Yes, mummie; give her my love, and say I never look at a little black pig now without thinking of _her_!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Chemist._ "Pills, eh?" (_Emphasising question_) "Anti-bilious?" _Child_ (_readily_). "No, sir; uncle is!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother._ "Now, dear, why don't you run away and give grandpa a kiss?" _Child_ (_somewhat nonplussed by grandpapa's moustache and beard_). "I don't see any place for it, mamma!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE," &c.--_Ethel._ "Mummy dear, why did you tell Richard you 'weren't at home' just now?" (_Pause._) "Mummy, I mean----" _Mamma._ "When Sir Fusby Dodderidge called? Why, Ethel dear, because he bores me." _Ethel._ "Oh!" (_After thoughtfully considering the matter with regard to her governess_). "Then may I say I'm not at home when Miss Krux calls to-morrow? for _she_ bores _me_ awfully?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE RINK.--_Little Girl._ "Oh, Captain Sprawler, _do_ put on your skates, and show me the funny figures you can make." _Captain S._ "My dear child, I'm only a beginner. I can't make any figures." _Little Girl._ "But Mabel said you were skating yesterday, and cut a _ridiculous_ figure!"] * * * * * A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.--_Daisy_ (_who has been studying Chrysanthemums_).--Maisy, do you know what's a _Double Begonia_? _Maisy_ (_who has been studying the Classics_).--"Double Big-onia"? Yes! Of course, it's the plural of one big onion. * * * * * MAIDENLY ETIQUETTE.--_Little Chris_ (_ætat eight_). I've a birthday party on Thursday, Evie. I should like you to come. _Little Evie_ (_ætat nine_). I should love to, dear. _Little Chris._ But I couldn't, you know, unless you asked me to tea first. * * * * * IN THE LIBRARY.--_Tommy._ How beautifully those books is binded! _Little Dot._ No, Tommy, that's wrong. You mustn't say "binded"; you should say, "are bounded." * * * * * SUPERLATIVE ASSURANCE.--_Papa_ (To Little Chris). I can't quite understand you. Was it Mr. Jones, or Mr. David Jones, or Mr. Griffith Jones, whom you met? _Little Chris_ (_stoutly_). All I know is, it was the _third eldest_ Mr. Jones. * * * * * [Illustration: _Mabel_ (_stroking kitten, a new present_). "Mother, kitty's so hot! Ought she to sit so near the fire?" (_Kitten purrs._) "Oh, mother, listen! She's beginning to boil!"] * * * * * A VIRTUE OF NECESSITY.--_Aunt Maria._ What a good little boy to leave your little friends to come with a poor old auntie like me. _Master Douglas._ Oh, mother always _makes_ us do nasty things and things we don't like. * * * * * MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(_The Fair Weather Barometer._) This is a pleasing and simple experiment. The mercury is removed, and divided in equal portions between the cat, the parrot next door, and the interior of grandpapa's forty-guinea repeater. This may cause some local disturbance, but the barometer, relieved of undue pressure, and set at "very dry," may be relied on to indicate, without further attention, permanent fair weather. * * * * * AT THE BOARD SCHOOL.--_Inspector._ Now, can any of you children state what is likely to be the future of China? _One Maiden_ (_after a pause_). Please sir, father says that China's like him. _Inspector._ Like him! What do you mean? _The Maiden._ Sure to be broken by the force of circumstances. [_Class dismissed immediately._ * * * * * [Illustration: AN INNOCENT HINT _Auntie._ "What is Nellie's nose for?" _Nellie_ (_doubtfully_). "To smell with." _Auntie._ "And what is Nellie's mouth for?" _Nellie_ (_cautiously_). "To eat with." _Auntie._ "And what are Nellie's ears for?" _Nellie_ (_confidently_). "Ear-rings."] * * * * * A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE!--_Miss Tomboy._ Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude. _Mother._ You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"? _Miss Tomboy._ Well, they _were_ rude. They called me a little cabbage (_mon petit chou_). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans. * * * * * SOLILOQUY.--"I should like that engine. Can't afford it myself. They won't buy it for me at home--too soon after Christmas. Must go in and ask the girl to put it aside for me till next time I have the croup or something; then mother'll buy it me!" * * * * * "TOO CLEVER BY HALF" Tommy and Johnnie were boys at school, Tommy was clever, but Johnnie a fool; Tommy at lessons was sharp and bright, Johnnie could never do anything right. Genius often is known to fail; Tommy turned forger, and went to jail. Johnnie, though slow as he well could be, Plodded away and became M.P. * * * * * [Illustration: "CONSERVATION OF TISSUE."--_Uncle._ "Well, Tommy, you see I'm back; are you ready? What have I to pay for, miss?" _Miss._ "Three buns, four sponge cakes, two sandwiches, one jelly, five tarts, and----" _Uncle._ "Good gracious, boy! Are you not ill?" _Tommy._ "No, uncle; but I'm thirsty."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Benevolent Old Gentleman._ "Now then, little boy. What do you mean by bullying that little girl? Don't you know it's very cruel?" _Rude Little Boy._ "Garn! wot's the trouble? _She's my Sweetheart!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Grandpapa._ "Well little lady, will you give me a lock of that pretty hair of yours?" _Marjory._ "Yes, granpa'; but"--(_hesitating_)--"I don't fink _one_ lock would be enough, would it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "DADDY'S WAISTCOAT" (_Sketched from Life in Drury Lane._)] * * * * * [Illustration: A STORY WITHOUT WORDS] * * * * * THE CASE FOR THE DEFENCE.--_Mother._ Oh, Dicky, what terrible things you do keep in your pockets! Fancy, a dead crab! _Dicky._ Well, mother, it wasn't dead when I put it there! * * * * * HAPPY THOUGHT.--"Why, my boy, you've spelt window without an _N_! Don't you know the difference between a _window_ and a _widow_?" "Yes, sir. You can see through _one_--and--and--you can't see through the _other_, sir!" * * * * * THE YOUNG IDEA AGAIN.--(SCENE--_Fourth-standard room of an elementary school. Children reading._) _Inspector_ (_to the Teacher_). What are they reading about? _Teacher._ American Indians. _Inspector._ I will ask them a few questions. (_To children._) What is a Red Indian's wife called? (_Many hands up_). Tell me. _Scholar._ A squaw, sir. _Inspector._ What is a Red Indian's baby called? (_Silence. At last a boy volunteers._) Well, my boy? _Boy._ Please, sir, a squaker! * * * * * [Illustration: A CAUTION TO LITTLE BOYS AT THIS FESTIVE SEASON _Mamma._ "Why, my dearest Albert, what are you crying for?--so good, too, as you have been all day!" _Spoiled Little Boy._ "Boo-hoo! I've eaten so--m-much be-eef and t-turkey, that I can't eat any p-p-plum p-p-pudding!" [_Oh, what a very greedy little fellow._] * * * * * A MODERN PARIS.--_Schoolmaster._ Now, boys, supposing that the goddesses Diana, Venus, and Juno were to appear before you, what would you do with this apple? _Brown Minimus._ Please sir, I'd eat it before they asked for it? * * * * * A POINT UNSETTLED IN HISTORY.--_Lucy_ (_to her elder sister who has just been relating a thrilling episode in the life of William Tell_). And was the little boy allowed to _eat_ the apple afterwards? * * * * * MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(_Household ginger beer._)--Empty the kitchen spice-box, two pounds of washing soda, a pint of petroleum, and all the wine left in the dining-room decanters over night, into the cistern, and stir freely in the dark with a mop from the staircase window. When the water comes in in the morning, the whole household will be supplied from every tap for four-and-twenty hours with capital ginger beer. * * * * * IN DISTRESS.--Mummy! Mummy! Come back! I'm frightened. Here's a horrid dog _staring at me with his teeth_. * * * * * [Illustration: _Child_ (_in berth of night steamer_). "Mummy, I'm so sleepy. I want to go to bed." _Mother._ "But you _are_ in bed dear." _Child._ "No, I'm not. I'm in a chest of drawers!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE.--(_This is the second time that Madge has pricked her finger--the first time it bled so much that mamma felt quite faint, and had to drink a glass of sherry; now it's Jack's turn_). _Mamma._ "Well, what's the matter with _you_, Jack?" _Jack._ "Oh! I feel rather _faint_, that's all. _Is there such a thing as a bun in the house?_"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FESTIVE SEASON.--_Tommy_ (_criticising the menu of the coming feast_). "Very good! Tray bong! And look here, old man! Mind you put plenty of rum into the _baba_--Dolly and Molly like it, you know--and so do I!" _Monsieur Cordonbleu_ (_retained for the occasion_). "Certainement, mon p'tit ami! But are you and ces demoiselles going to dine viz de compagnie?" _Tommy._ "Oh nong! But just ain't we going to sit on the stairs outside, that's all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE ZOO.--_Little Girl_ (_after seeing many queer beasts_). "But there aren't _really_ such animals, nurse, are there?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE CHRISTMAS PARTY.--_Uncle George._ "Don't over-eat yourself, Jimmy, my boy. I never did when I was your age." _Jimmy_ (_sotto voce_). "When did you begin, then?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN EARLY PURITAN _Bobby_ (_who sees his mamma in evening dress for the first time, and doesn't like it_). "I'll write and tell papa!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gertie._ "Oh, Mr. Brown, papa says that Mrs. Brown leads you by the nose. Is that why it's so long?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT A CHRISTMAS JUVENILE PARTY.--_Aunt Florence._ "I will find you a partner, Ethel, dear. Between ourselves, now, have you any choice?" _Miss Ethel._ "Well, auntie, I should prefer one with a _moustache_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CRY FROM THE HEART.--_Little Dunce_ (_looking up suddenly from her history book_). "Oh, mummy, darling, I _do_ so wish I'd lived under James the Second!" _Mamma._ "Why?" _Little Dunce._ "Because I see here that education was very much neglected in his reign!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BIG PILL.--"What is it, my pet?" "Oh, mum--mummy--I dreamt I'd sw-swallowed myself. Have I?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Hostess._ "What would you like to eat, Effie?" _Effie._ "Cake." _Mother_ (_reprovingly_). "Effie! Effie! What is the word you've forgotten? Pl----" _Effie._ "Pl--um!"] * * * * * OVERHEARD AT THE ZOO.--(_A fact._)--_Small child_ (_pointing to the hippopotamus_). Oh, mother, look at that big frog going to have a bath! _Better-informed parent._ That isn't a frog, yer silly. It's a crocydile! * * * * * INFANT AGONIES.--_Small boy._ Auntie! Auntie! Has goosegogs got legs? _Auntie._ No! _Small boy._ Boo-hoo-hoo! then I've been and swollered--a beastie! * * * * * INADEQUATE HOSPITALITY.--"Well, Guy, did you enjoy the party?" "Yes, mummy; but I'm _so_ hungry. There was only a _now and then_ tea, you know; with no chairs, and no grace!" * * * * * NATURE'S LOGIC.--_Papa._ How is it, Alice, that _you_ never get a prize at school? _Mamma._ And that your friend, Louisa Sharp, gets so many? _Alice_ (_innocently_). Ah! Louisa Sharp has got such clever parents! * * * * * [Illustration: "FIAT EXPERIMENTUM," &c.--Scene--_A Christmas family gathering at a country house. Old Bachelor Guest_ (_violently awakened out of his morning snooze._) "Who'sh there?" _The Grandchildren_ (_shouting in chorus, and banging at his door_). "Oh, Mr. Bulkley--please--Mr. Bulkley--do get up--and go on the pond--'pa says--'cause--gran'ma says--we may--if it'll bear you--it'll bear us!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCIENTIFIC ACCURACY _Ada._ "What horrid things _black-beetles_ are, Miss Grimm! The kitchen is full of them!" _The Governess._ "I agree with you, Ada! But as they are not _beetles_, and not _black_, perhaps you will call them _cock-roaches_ for the future!" _Ada._ "Certainly, Miss Grimm; although they are not _roaches_, and not _cocks_!"] * * * * * A CONSCIENTIOUS CHILD.--"Is your cold better this morning, darling?" "I don't know. I forgot to ask nursey!" * * * * * _Tommy._ I can strike a match on _my_ trousers, like Uncle Bob. Can _you_, auntie? * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother._ "You must put your dolls away to-day. It's Sunday." _Little Girl._ "Oh, but, mother, that's all right. We're playing at Sunday school!"] * * * * * CONFUSED ASSOCIATIONS.--"And where did these Druids live, Tommy?" "They lived in groves of oak." "And in what particular ceremony were they engaged once a year?" "Er--let me see--Oh! in kissing under the mistletoe!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Grandmamma._ "And how did it happen, dear?" _Master Tom._ "It didn't happen. Ma did it on purpose!"] * * * * * MASTER TOMMY'S RECEIPTS.--(_To cure a smoky chimney._) Get out on to the roof of the house with a good-sized feather bolster and eighteen-pennyworth of putty. Insert the bolster longways into the chimney, taking care to plaster it all round tightly with the putty. Now sit on it. The chimney will no longer smoke. * * * * * [Illustration: And it was only yesterday that grandpapa was complaining to his little grandsons that he never got real winters like he used to have, with plenty of skating and sliding. (N.B.--Butter-slides are very effective.)] * * * * * THE EVIDENCE OF THE SENSES.--_Mamma._ How _dare_ you slap your sister, George? _George._ She kicked me when my back was turned, and hurted me very much, I can tell you! _Mamma._ Where did she hurt you? _George._ Well, I can't azactly say _where_, because--because my back was turned, and I was looking another way! * * * * * PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE.--_Son and heir_ (_whose inquiring turn of mind is occasionally a nuisance_). Say, 'pa, what's a v'cab'lary? _Father._ A vocabulary, my boy--what d'you want to know that for? _Son._ 'Cause I heard 'ma say she'd no idea what a tremenjous v'cab'lary you'd got, till you missed the train on Saturday! * * * * * AT THE SUNDAY SCHOOL--_Teacher._ Now, Mary Brown, you understand what is meant by baptism? _Mary Brown._ Oh, _I_ know, teacher! It's what Dr. Franklin did on baby's arm last Toosday! * * * * * [Illustration: A LITTLE CHRISTMAS DREAM.--Mr. L. Figuier, in the thesis which precedes his interesting work on the world before the flood, condemns the practice of awakening the youthful mind to admiration by means of fables and fairy tales, and recommends, in lieu thereof, the study of the natural history of the world in which we live. Fired by this advice, we have tried the experiment on our eldest, an imaginative boy of six. We have cut off his "Cinderella" and his "Puss in Boots," and introduced him to some of the more peaceful fauna of the preadamite world, as they appear restored in Mr. Figuier's book. The poor boy has not had a decent night's rest ever since!] * * * * * YOUNG, BUT PRACTICAL.--"What! Harry! not in bed yet, and it's nine o'clock! What will _papa_ say when he comes home?" "Oh, papa! _He'll_ say, 'Supper! supper! What's for supper?'" * * * * * A REALIST IN FICTION.--"I saw a rabbit run through that hedge!" "No, dear. It was imagination!" "Are 'maginations white behind?" * * * * * IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.--_The new Governess._ What are the comparative and superlative of _bad_, Berty? _Berty_ (_the Doctor's son_). Bad--worse--dead. * * * * * A CAPITAL CHOICE.--_Cousin Amy._ So you haven't made up your mind yet what _profession_ you're going to be when you grow up, Bobby. _Bobby._ Well, yes! I don't exactly know what it's called, you know, but it's living in the country, and keeping lots of horses and dogs, and all that! [_Bobby's papa is a curate, with £200 a year._ * * * * * [Illustration: EARLY INGENUITY. "Whatever _are_ you children doing?" "Oh, we've found pa's false teeth, and we're trying to fit them on to the baby, 'cos he hasn't got any!"] * * * * * THE SICK CHILD BY THE HONOURABLE WILHELMINA SKEGGS A weakness seizes on my mind--I would more pudding take; But all in vain--I feel--I feel--my little head will ache. Oh! that I might alone be left, to rest where now I am, And finish with a piece of bread that pot of currant-jam. I gaze upon the cake with tears, and wildly I deplore That I must take a powder if I touch a morsel more, Or oil of castor, smoothly bland, will offer'd be to me, In wave pellucid, floating on a cup of milkless tea. It may be so--I cannot tell--I yet may do without; They need not know, when left alone, what I have been about. I long to cut that potted beef--to taste that apple-pie; I long--I long to eat some more, but have not strength to try. I gasp for breath, and now I know I've eaten far too much; Not one more crumb of all the feast before me can I touch! Susan, oh! Susan ring the bell, and call for mother, dear. My brain swims round--I feel it all--mother, your child is queer! * * * * * _Alix_ (_aged five, to parent who has been trying to inspire her with loyal sentiments_). And was the Queen weally named after me? * * * * * [Illustration: A Toothsome Morsel.-- _Distracted Nurse._ "Gracious, children, what _are_ you doing?" _Children._ "Oh, we've put the meat cover on grandpa's head to keep the flies off him!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Drat the boy! What have you got that string tied on that fowl's leg for?" "'Tain't our fowl, muvver!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Snooks_ (_who fancies himself very much_). "What's she crying for?" _Arabella._ "It's all right, sir. She was frightened. When she saw _you_ she thought it was a _man_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BLASÉ _Kitty_ (_reading a fairy tale_). "'Once upon a time there was a frog----'" _Mabel_ (_interrupting_). "I bet it's a princess! Go on!"] * * * * * PHYSICS.--"Now, George, before you go and play, are you quite sure you know the lesson Professor Borax gave you to learn?" "O, yes, mamma!" "Well, now, what causes heat without light?" "Pickles!" * * * * * _Mother._ Well, Dorothy, would you like your egg poached or boiled? _Dorothy_ (_after weighing the question_). Which is the most, mother? * * * * * [Illustration: THE ADVANTAGES OF EDUCATION _Small Boy._ "Look 'ere, Mawrd! I reckon the chap as keeps this shop ain't bin to school lately; 'e spells '_'all_' with a _haitch_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "GETTING ON." "Well, Tommy, how are you getting on at school?" "First-rate. I ain't doing so well as some of the other boys, though I can stand on my head; but I have to put my feet against the wall. I want to do it without the wall at all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LAYING DOWN THE LAW.-- _Lady_ (_entertaining friend's little girl_). "Do you take sugar, darling?" _The Darling._ "Yes, please." _Lady._ "How many lumps?" _The Darling._ "Oh, about seven; and when I'm out to tea I start with cake."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tommy._ "I say, Elsie, if you like, I'll come and see you every day while you are ill."] * * * * * "A SOFT ANSWER," &c.--_Mamma_. You are very naughty children, and I am extremely dis-satisfied with you all! _Tommy._ That _is_ a pity, mamma! We're all so thoroughly satisfied with _you_, you know! * * * * * COMPREHENSIVE.--_Preceptor._ Now, can any of you tell me anything remarkable in the life of Moses? _Boy._ Yes, sir. He was the only man who broke all the commandments at once! * * * * * [Illustration: A BARGAIN. "I say, Bobby, just give us a shove with this 'ere parcel on to this 'ere truck, and next time yer runs me in, _I'll go quiet_!"] * * * * * LITTLE MISS LOGIC.--_Little Dot_ (_to Eminent Professor of Chemistry_). Are you a chemist? _Eminent Professor._ Yes, my dear. _L. D._ Have you got a shop with lovely large, coloured bottles in the window? _E. P._ No, my dear; I don't keep a shop. _L. D._ Don't you? Then I suppose you don't sell Jones's Jubilee Cough Jujubes? _E. P._ No, my dear, I certainly do not. _L. D._ (_decidedly_). I don't think I ought to talk to you any more. You can't be a respectable chemist. _E. P._ Why not, my dear? _L. D._ 'Cos it says on the box, "Sold by all _respectable_ chemists." * * * * * AT THE SCHOOL TREAT.--_Lady Helper_ (_to Small Boy_). Will you have some more bread-and-butter? _Small Boy._ No fear, when there's kike about. _Lady Helper_ (_trying to be kind_). Cake, certainly! Will you have plum or seed? _Small Boy._ Plum, in course. D'ye tike me for a canary? * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF HEREDITY _Hal._ "Is there anything the matter with this egg, Martha?" _Martha._ "Oh no, it's only a little cracked." _Hal._ "Oh! Then would the chicken that came out of it be a little mad?"] * * * * * [Illustration: NATURAL HISTORY.--"Oh, _look_, mummie! Now it's left off raining, he's come out of his kennel!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SENSIBLE CHILD.--"Well, Jacky, and did you hang up your stocking for Santa Claus to fill?" "No. I hanged up muvver's!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Look what I've bought you for a Christmas box!"] * * * * * HAD HIM THERE.--_Uncle Jim._ Here's half a mince pie for you, Tommy. I need hardly remind a person of your classical culture that "_the half is greater than the whole_!" _Tommy._ Quite so, uncle. But, as I'm not very hungry, I'll only take a whole one. * * * * * AN EYE TO THE MAIN CHANCE.--_The Major._ You're a very nice fellow, Tommy! Don't most people tell you so? _Tommy._ Yes, they does. And they often gives me something! * * * * * [Illustration: LOST, OR, LUCID INFORMATION _Kind-hearted Old Gent._ "There, there, don't cry! What's your name and where do you live!" _Chorus._ "Boohoo! We'se Doolie's twins."] * * * * * "SANCTA SIMPLICITAS."--"Auntie, ought Bertie Wilson to have _smiled_ so often at me in church?" "No, dear. Where was he sitting?" "Behind me." * * * * * [Illustration: _Philanthropic Old Lady_ (_to little boy caressing dog_). "That is right, little boy, always be kind to animals." _Little Boy._ "Yes, 'm. I'll have this tin can tied to his tail soon's I've got him quiet."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Poor likkle doggie--hasn't got any fevvers on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Master Tom._ "Wish I could catch a cold just before Christmas." _Effie._ "Why?" _Master Tom._ "Well, ma's always sayin', 'feed a cold.' Wouldn't I? _Just!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "_Please_, auntie, _may_ I have the fairy off the Christmas tree--_if I don't ask you for it_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Shocked Mother._ "Oh, Tommy! What have you been doing?" _Tommy_ (_who has just returned from the first day of a preliminary course at the village school_). "Fighting with Billy Brown." _Mother._ "That horrid boy at the farm? Don't you _ever_ quarrel with him again!" _Tommy._ "I ain't likely to. He can _lick_ me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RUDIMENTS OF ECONOMY "May I _leave_ this piece of bread, nurse?" "Certainly not, Miss May. It's dreadful wasteful! and the day may come when you'll _want_ a piece of bread!" "Then I'd better _keep_ this piece of bread till I _do_ want it, nurse. Hadn't I?"] * * * * * [Illustration: BLUE FEVER.--_Visitor_ (_after a long discourse on the virtues of temperance_). "I'm glad to see a little boy here wearing the blue ribbon. That's a good little fellow. Persevere in your good----" _Billie Groggins._ "Please, sir, I'm _Hoxford_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Oh! just ain't people proud what have got pairasoles."] * * * * * A DISCUSSION ON DIET.--_Little Chris_ (_to little Kate_.) Does your governess get ill on mince pies? _Little Kate._ I don't know! Why? _Little Chris._ 'Cause mine does. At dinner to-day she said, "If you eat any more of that pastry, I know you'll be ill." So she _must_ have been so herself. [_Conference broken up by arrival of the lady in question._ * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT IS IT? _First Boy_ (_loq._). "I tell yer its 'ed's here!--I seen it move!" _Second Do._ "I say it's at this end, yer stoopid!--I can see 'is ears!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Dolly._ "Auntie, that's what I've done for the cow-drawing competition at school." _Auntie._ "But it is more like a horse than a cow." _Dolly._ "It _is_ a horse. But, please, don't tell teacher!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE GENTLE CRAFT" _Preceptor_ (_after a lecture_). "Now, what are the principal things that are obtained from the earth?" _Pupil_ (_and "disciple of Izaak Walton"_). "Worms, sir!" [_Loses fifty marks!_] * * * * * [Illustration: A CONFESSION.--_Day Governess._ "How is it your French exercises are always done so much better than your Latin ones?" _Tommy_ (_after considering awhile_). "I don't think auntie knows Latin." [_Auntie, who was about to enter, quickly and quietly retires._] * * * * * [Illustration: "What are you doing in that cupboard, Cyril?" "Hush, auntie! I'm pretending to be a thief!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RETALIATION "Tut, tut, my boy! You must not beat that little dog so. Has he bitten you?" "No, 'e ain't. But 'e's bin an' swallered my fardin!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A REMINISCENCE OF LENT "And did you both practise a little self-denial, and agree to give up something you were fond of?--_sugar_, for instance,--as I suggested?" "Well, yes, auntie! Only it wasn't exactly _sugar_, you know! It was _soap_ we agreed to give up!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SUBTLE DISCRIMINATION _Ethel_ (_to Jack, who has been put into the corner by the new governess_). "I'm so sorry for you, Jack!" _Jack._ "Bosh! who cares! This ain't a _real_ corner, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CANDID INQUIRER "I say, John, is there anything I haven't tasted?" "No, sir, I think not--except water!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Eva._ "Mother says I am descended from Mary Queen o' Scots." _Tom._ "So am I then, Eva." _Eva._ "Don't be so silly, Tom! You can't be. You're a boy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Gent._ "Is it a _board school_ you go to, my dear?" _Child._ "No, sir. I believe it be a _brick_ one!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Kitty._ "Is your wound sore, Mr. Pup?" _Mr. Pup._ "Wound! What wound?" _Kitty._ "Why, sister said she cut you at the dinner last night!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Boy._ "How many steps can you jump, grandma? I can jump _four_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INDUCTION "Is this the _new_ baby, daddy?"--"Yes, dear." "Why, he's got no teeth!"--"No, dear." "And he's got no hair!"--"No, dear." "Oh, daddy, it _must_ be an _old_ baby!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "It's an ill wind blows nobody good."] * * * * * _Horrified little girl_ (_seeing her mamma in evening dress for the first time_). Oh, mummy, you're _never_ going down like that! You've forgotten to put on your top part! * * * * * [Illustration: "Hi, silly! Come 'ere out of the rine!"] * * * * * ENGLISH HISTORY.--"And who was the king who had so many wives?" "Bluebeard!" * * * * * [Illustration: HER FIRST WASP _Poor Effie (who has been stung)._ "First it walked about all over my hand, and it _was_ so nice! But oh!--_when it sat down_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VERY NATURAL.--"Vell, and vat to you sink tit happen to me at Matame Tussaud's de oder tay? A laty dook me for vun of de vax vickers, and agdually abbollochised vor her misdake!" "O what fun, Mr. Schmitz! And was it in the Chamber of Horrors?"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE DISTINCTION.-- _Mamma (improving the occasion)._ "I like your new suit immensely, Gerald! But you must recollect that it's not the coat that makes the gentleman!" _Gerald._ "No, mamma! I know it's the _hat_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Montague._ "I was awake when Santa Claus came, dad!" _Father._ "Were you? And what was he like, eh?" _Little Montague._ "Oh, I couldn't see him--it was dark, you know. But when he bumped himself on the washstand he said----" _Father (hastily)._ "There, that'll do, Monty. Run away and play!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A RARA AVIS.--_Little Girl (finishing her description of the Battle of Cressy)._ "And ever since then the Prince of Wales has been born with feathers!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A HEAD FOR BUSINESS.-- _Mamma._ "I meant to give you a threepenny bit this morning, Bobby, but in my hurry I think I gave you sixpence, so----" _Bobby._ "Yes, mummy, but I haven't spent it all yet. So will you give it me to-morrow?" _Mamma._ "Give you what, dear?" _Bobby._ "The threepenny bit you _meant_ to give me to-day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE CHILD OF THE PERIOD "Why did that policeman touch his hat to you, aunty? Have you got one as well as nurse?"] * * * * * [Illustration: BEFORE THE HEAD _Fourth Form Boy (with recollections of a recent visit to the dentist)._ "Please, sir, may I--may I--have gas?"] * * * * * ADDING INSULT TO INJURY.--"Mamma, _isn't_ it very wicked to do behind one's back what one wouldn't do before one's face?" "Certainly, Effie!" "Well, baby bit my finger when I was looking another way!" * * * * * [Illustration: "BY AUTHORITY."--_Street Boy (sternly)._ "P'lice-Serge'nt says as you're t' have your door-way swep' immediat'; an' (_more meekly_) me an' my mate's willin' to do it, s'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Gentleman (who has received a present of butter from one of his tenants)._ "And how does your mother make all these beautiful patterns on the pats, my dear?" _Messenger._ "_Wiv our comb, sir!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A FATAL OBJECTION "Mother, are the Wondergilts very rich?" "Yes, Silvia, very." "Mother, I hope we shall never be rich?" "Why, darling?" "It must be so very expensive!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady._ "Have you lost yourself, little boy?" _Little Boy._ "No--boo-hoo--I've found a street I don't know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "ENFANT TERRIBLE" "I've brought you a glass of wine, Mr. Professor. _Please_ drink it!" "Vat! Pefore tinner? Ach, vy?" "Because mummy says you drink like a fish, and I want to see you----!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SPREAD OF EDUCATION "Come and 'ave a look, Marier. They've been and put a chick on a lidy's 'at, and they don't know 'ow to spell it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WELL OUT OF IT" _Uncle._ "And you love your enemies, Ethel?" _Ethel (promptly)._ "Yeth, uncle." _Uncle._ "And who are your enemies, dear?" _Ethel (in an awful whisper)._ "The dev----" [_The old gentleman doesn't see his way further, and drops the subject._] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR CHILDREN _Nurse._ "You dreadful children! Where _have_ you been?" _Young Hopeful._ "Oh, nursie, we've been trying to drown those dear little ducks, but they _will_ come to the top!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Auntie._ "Do you know you are playing with two very naughty little boys, Johnny?" _Johnny._ "Yes." _Auntie._ "You do! I'm surprised. Why don't you play with good little boys?" _Johnny._ "Because their mothers won't let them!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TAKING TIME BY THE FORELOCK _Gwendoline._ "Uncle George says every woman ought to have a profession, and I think he's quite right!" _Mamma._ "Indeed! And what profession do you mean to choose?" _Gwendoline._ "I mean to be a professional beauty!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EXPERIENTIA DOCET.--_Master George (whispers)._ "I say! Kitty! Has mamma been telling you she'd give you '_a lovely spoonful of delicious currant jelly, O so nice, so VERY nice_'?" _Miss Kitty._ "Ess Cullen' jelly! O so ni', so welly ni'!" _Master George._ "THEN DON'T TAKE IT!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EVIL COMMUNICATIONS &c.--_Elder of Twins._ "It's _very_ vulgar to say 'you be _blowed_' to each other, like those men do. Isn't it, Uncle Fred?" _Uncle Fred._ "I believe it _is_ generally considered so, my dear!" _Elder of Twins._ "Yes, indeed! Ethel and I, you know, _we_ always say, 'you be _blown_!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: MENS CONSCIA.--_Inspector_ (_who notices a backwardness in history_). "Who signed Magna Charta?" (_No answer._) _Inspector_ (_more urgently_). "Who signed Magna Charta?" (_No answer_.) _Inspector_ (_angrily_). "Who signed Magna Charta?" _Scapegrace_ (_thinking matters are beginning to look serious_). "Please, sir, 'twasn't me, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "TROP DE ZELE!"--(_Tommy, a conscientious boy, has been told that he must remain perfectly still, as his mamma wants to take a nap._) (_Tommy in the middle of the nap_). "Mamma! Mamma! what shall I do? _I want to cough!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: TENDER CONSIDERATION "Oh, _don't_ make faces at him, Effie! It might _frighten_ him, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "BY PROXY". _Humorous Little Boy._ "Plea' sir, will you ring the bottom bell but one, four times, sir?" _Old Gent_ (_gouty, and a little deaf, but so fond o' children_). "Bottom bell but one, four times, my boy?" (_Effusively._) "Certainly, that I will!" [_In the meantime off go the boys, and, at the third peal, the irritable old lady on the ground floor----Tableau!_] * * * * * [Illustration: NEWS FROM HOME.--_Aunt Mary._ "I've just had a letter from your papa, Geoffrey. He says you've got a little brother, who'll be a nice companion for you some day!" _Geoffrey._ "Oh!----does mummy know?"] * * * * * [Illustration: UTILE CUM DULCI _Arry._ "Ain't yer comin' along with me, Bill?" _Piscator_ (_the Doctor's Boy_). "No, I _ain't_ a comin' along with you, I tell yer! I'm a runnin' on a errand."] * * * * * [Illustration: ZOOLOGY. (_It appears to be coming to that at the Board Schools._)--_Examiner_ (_to small aspirant to the twenty-fourth standard_). "Can you tell me anything peculiar about the cuckoo, in regard to nesting?" _Student._ "Yes, sir. Please, sir, he don't lay his own eggs hisself, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THEIR FIRST VISIT TO THE ZOO _Tommy._ "Them ain't donkeys, Billy?" _Billy._ "Yus, they is! They're donkeys with their football jerseys on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SPOILT STORY.--_Brown_ (_in the middle of tall shooting story_). "Hardly had I taken aim at the lion on my right, when I heard a rustle in the jungle grass, and perceived an enormous tiger approaching on my left. I now found myself on the horns of a dilemma!" _Interested Little Boy._ "Oh, and which did you shoot first--the lion, or the tiger, or the d'lemma?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Uncle_ (_about to start for a concert at Marine Pavilion_). "But, my dear Nora, you don't surely propose to go without your shoes and stockings?" _Nora._ "I'm in evening dress, uncle--only it's the other end."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TERTIUM QUID.--"Do you know, Mabel, I believe if I weren't here, Captain Spooner would kiss you." "Leave the room this instant, you impertinent little boy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CLINCHER.--"Get up, and see the time, Eva. I don't know how to tell it." "No more do I." "O, you horrid story-teller, I taught you myself!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES "What! _all_ that for grandpa." "No, darling. It's for you." "Oh! what a little bit!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BRUSHING PA'S NEW HAT _Edith._ "Now, Tommy, you keep turning slowly, till we've done it all round."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother._ "But, Jacky, I don't think a clock-work engine would be a good toy for you to give baby. He's such a little thing, he'd only break it." _Jacky._ "Oh, but, mother, I'd _promise_ you I'd never let him even _touch_ it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FESTIVE SEASON _Precocious Infant._ "Help yourself, and pass the bottle!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW.--_Maud_ (_with much sympathy in her voice_). "Only fancy, mamma, Uncle Jack took us to a picture gallery in Bond Street, and there we saw a picture of a lot of early christians, poor dears, who'd been thrown to a lot of lions and tigers, who were devouring them!" _Ethel_ (_with still more sympathy_). "Yes, and mamma dear, there was _one_ poor tiger that _hadn't got_ a christian!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mother_ (_to son, who has been growing rather free of speech_). "Tommy, if you promise not to say 'hang it!' again, I'll give you sixpence." _Tommy._ "All right, ma. But I know another word that's worth half-a-crown!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BETWEEN THE ACTS _Governess._ "Well, Marjorie, have you done crying?" _Marjorie._ "No--I haven't. I'm only _resting_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A WISE CHILD.--_Inspector._ "Suppose I lent your father £100 in June, and he promised to pay me back £10 on the first of every month, how much would he owe me at the end of the year? Now think well before you answer." _Pupil._ "£100, sir." _Inspector._ "You're a very ignorant little girl. You don't know the most elementary rules of arithmetic!" _Pupil._ "Ah, sir, but you don't know father!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.--_Miss Fitzogre._ "Well, good-bye, Percival, and be a good boy!" _Percival_ (_a very good boy, who has just been specially warned not to make personal remarks about people in their presence_). "Good-bye, I'll not tell nurse what I think of your nose till you're gone!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Porter._ "Why is the little girl crying, missie?" _Little Girl._ "'Cos' she has put her penny in there, and no choc'late nor nuffing's come'd out!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT UNLIKELY "Well, well! And was baby frightened of his daddy den!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Dorothy_ (_who has found a broken nest-egg_). "Oh, mummy, what a pity! My black hen will never be able to lay any more eggs. She's broken the pattern!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WASTED SYMPATHY _Kind-hearted Lady._ "Poor child! What a dreadfully swollen cheek you have! Is it a tooth?" _Poor Child_ (_with difficulty_). "No 'm--it's a sweet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL "I'll tell you something, Miss Bullion. My sister Maud's going to marry your brother Dick. But don't say anything about it, 'cos he doesn't know it himself yet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Softly._ "Yes, I was b-b-orn with a s-s-s-ilver s-s-poon in my m-m-m-outh." _Kitty._ "Oh, Mr. Softly, is that why you stutter?"] * * * * * [Illustration: WELL UP IN HER MYTHOLOGY.--_Tommy._ "Madge, what's '_necessitas_,' masculine or feminine?" _Madge._ "Why, feminine, of course." _Tommy._ "Why?" _Madge._ "Why, she was the mother of invention."] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT TOMMY OVERHEARD _Mrs. Jinks._ "That's Signor Scrapeski just passed. He plays the violin like an angel." _Tommy._ "Mummy, dear, do the angels say 'dam' when a string breaks?"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUESTION AND ANSWER _Mamma._ "Who was the first man, 'Lina?" _'Lina._ "I forget." _Mamma._ "Already? Why, Adam, to be sure! And who was the first woman?" _'Lina_ (_after a thoughtful pause_). "Madam!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHEER IGNORANCE _Benevolent Person._ "Come, my little man, you musn't cry like that!" _Boy._ "Garn! 'Ow am I to cry then?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, Billie, teacher says as if we 'angs our stockings up on C'ris'mas Eve, Santa Claus'll fill 'em with presents!" "It'll take 'im all 'is time to fill _mine_. I 'aven't got no foots in 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON HIS DIGNITY.--_Sam._ "Mamma bought me a pair of gloves yesterday." _Auntie._ "Really! What are they? Kids?" _Sam._ "No, they're men's."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sharp_ (_but vulgar_) _little boy_. "Hallo, missus, wot are those?" _Old Woman._ "Twopence." _Boy._ "What a lie! They're apples." [_Exit, whistling popular air_.] * * * * * A DIFFICULT CASE.--_Mamma._ You're a very naughty boy, Tommy, and I shall have to buy a whip, and give you a good whipping. _Now_ will you be good? _Tommy_ (_with hesitation_). Shall I be allowed to keep the whip after, mammy? * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Gent._ "Do you know what a lie is, sir?" _Little Boy._ "Oh, don't I, jest; I tells lots of 'em."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Lady._ "No, thanks. I don't want any for the garden today." _Boy._ "Well, then, can we sing yer some Christmas carols instead?"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD IN BOND STREET "Which of 'em would yer 'ave for a muvver, Billy?"] * * * * * [Illustration: EXPERIENTIA DOCET "And are _you_ going to give me something for my birthday, aunty Maud?" "Of course, darling." "Then _don't_ let it be _something useful_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mamma._ "You mustn't bowl your hoop in the front on Sunday. You must go into the back garden." _Tommy._ "Isn't it Sunday in the back garden, mamma?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PROTEST "And pray, am I _never_ to be naughty, Miss Grimm?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW TEST _Aunt_ (_in alarm_). "_Surely_ you've eaten enough, haven't you, Tommy?" _Tommy_ (_in doubt_). "F-f-f-feel me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Bilious Old Uncle._ "I'm delighted to see this fall; it will give that dreadful boy chilblains, and he'll be laid up out of mischief."] * * * * * SUNDAY SCHOOLING.--_Teacher._ What does one mean by "Heaping coals of fire on someone's head" now, Harry Hawkins? _Harry Hawkins._ Givin' it 'im 'ot, teacher! * * * * * _Auntie._ Do you love the chickens, dear? _Dolly._ Yes, Auntie. But I do wish this big one hadn't such a funny laugh! * * * * * [Illustration: Occupation of "that dreadful boy" at the same period.] * * * * * CHRONOLOGY.--_Old Gentleman_ ("_putting a few questions_"). Now, boys--ah--can any of you tell me what commandment Adam broke when he took the forbidden fruit? _Small Scholar_ ("_like a shot_"). Please, sir, th'worn't no commandments then, sir! [_Questioner sits corrected._] * * * * * AT A CHILDREN'S PARTY DURING TEA Yes, _isn't_ it a pretty sight.... Oh, they're _much_ too busy to talk at present.... Well, if you _would_ take this cup of tea to my little girl, dear Mr. Muffett, it would be so----Yes, in the white frock.... _Pray_ don't apologise--some tea upsets _so_ easily, doesn't it?... Oh! I don't suppose it will show, really, and if it _does_.... Please, will everybody keep quite quiet for a minute or two; I haven't said my grace.... Don't you think it's unfair of nurse? She's handed me bread-and-butter twice running!... I mustn't eat sponge-cake, thank you. Bath buns are better for me than anything.... I was _so_ ill after Christmas. They took my temperament with the barometer, and it was two hundred and six!... Oh! that's nothing. When _I_ was ill, the doctor said mine was perfectly Norman!... Well, you _might_ lower that candleshade a _very_ little, perhaps, Mr. Muffett.... Ah! don't blow it out.... Throw it into the fire, quick!... It doesn't matter in the _least_. No; I wouldn't trouble about the _other_ shades, thanks.... Mother, will you read me the text out of my cracker?... But if you're going to be a soldier, you oughtn't to shut your eyes when you pull a cracker.... Oh! when I'm a soldier, I needn't _go_ to parties. * * * * * [Illustration: WELL BROUGHT UP.--"Now then, my little men, didn't you see that board on that tree?" "Yes." "Well, then, can't you read?" "Yes, but we never look at anything marked 'private.'"] * * * * * DURING A PERFORMANCE OF PUNCH AND JUDY _A Thoughtful Child._ What a dreadful thing it would be to have a papa like Punch! _A Puzzled Child._ Mother, why is the man at the side so _polite_ to Punch? He calls him "Sir"--is Punch _really_ a gentleman? _A Good Little Girl._ I do wish they would leave all the fighting out; it must set such a bad example to children. _An Appreciative Boy._ Oh! I say, _did_ you hear what the clown said then? He said something had frightened all the hair off his head except that little tuft at the top, and it turned _that_ sky-blue! [_He goes into fits of laughter._ _A Matter-of-fact Boy._ Yes, I heard--but I don't believe it _could_. _The Child of the House._ I _am_ so glad Tip is shut up downstairs, because I'm afraid, if he'd been up here and seen Toby act, he'd have wanted to run away and go on the stage himself, and I don't think he's the sort of dog who would ever be a _success_, you know! * * * * * [Illustration: THE JOYS OF ANTICIPATION.--"When are you coming out with me, mummy?" "Not this morning, darling. I've too much to do!" "Oh, but you _must_, mummy. I've already put it in my new diary that you _did_!"] * * * * * DURING THE DANCING _Jack._ I say, Mabel, you've got to dance the "Washington Post" with _me_. _Mabel._ I can't. I've promised Teddy Thistledown. _Jack._ Oh! _that's_ all right. I swapped with him for a Nicaragua stamp. _Mabel_ (_touched_). But aren't they rare? Didn't you want it yourself? _Jack._ Oh! I don't collect, you know. _George_ (_to Ethel_). They've given us the whole of "Ivanhoe" to mug up for a holiday task. Isn't it a beastly shame? _Ethel._ But don't you like Scott? _George._ Oh! I don't mind _Scott_ so much. It's having to grind in the holidays that _I_ bar. _Hester_ (_to Roland_). Shall you go to the pantomime this year? _Roland._ I don't think so. I'm going to lectures at the Royal Institution instead. _Hester._ That isn't as jolly as the pantomime, is it? _Roland_ (_impartially_). Not while it's going on, but a lot jollier after it's over. _Mr. Poffley_ (_a middle-aged bachelor, who "likes to make himself useful at parties," and is good-naturedly waltzing with little Miss Chillington_). Have you--er--been to many parties? _Miss Chillington_ (_a child of the world_). About the usual amount. There's generally a good deal going on just now, isn't there? _Mr. Poffley._ A--I suppose so. I go out so little now that I've almost forgotten _how_ to dance. _Miss Chillington._ Then you _did_ know once! _Mr. Poffley_ (_completely demoralised_). I--er--you would rather stop? _Miss Chillington._ Oh! I don't mind going on, if it amuses you. [_Mr. Poffley feels that "children are not so grateful as they used to be for being noticed," and that it is almost time he gave up going to juvenile parties._ * * * * * [Illustration: RES ANT-IQUÆ.--"Auntie dear, where do these fossil shells come from?" "Oh, my dear child, a great many years ago they were washed up here by the sea." "How long ago, auntie dear?" "Ever so long ago, dear child." "What! Even before _you_ were born, auntie?"] * * * * * [Illustration: EXTREME MEASURES _Mother._ "If I catch you chasing those hens again, I'll wash your face _every day next week_!"] * * * * * AFTER SUPPER _The Hostess_ (_returning to the drawing-room to find the centre of the floor occupied by a struggling heap of small boys, surrounded by admiring but mystified sisters_). Oh! dear me, what _are_ they doing? I'm so afraid my two boys are being too rough, Mrs. Hornblower. _Mrs. Hornblower_ (_one of a row of complacent matrons_). Oh! not at all, dear Mrs. Honeybun, they're having _such_ fun. Your Edwin and Arthur are only trying how many boys they can pile on the top of my Tommy. _Mrs. Honeybun._ Is that Tommy underneath? Are you sure he's not getting hurt? _Mrs. Horn._ Oh! he thoroughly enjoys a romp. He's made himself perfectly hoarse with laughing. Just listen to him! _Mrs. Honey._ What a sturdy little fellow he is! And always in such high spirits! _Mrs. Horn_ (_confidentially_). He hasn't seemed quite the thing for the last day or two, and I was doubting whether it wouldn't be better to keep him at home to-night, but he begged so hard that I really had to give way. _Mrs. Honey._ So glad you did! It doesn't seem to have done him any harm. _Mrs. Horn._ Quite the contrary. And indeed, he couldn't help being the better for it; you understand so thoroughly how to make children happy, dear Mrs. Honeybun. _Mrs. Honey._ It's delightful of you to say so; I try my best, but one can't always----Last year we had a conjurer, and it was only when he'd begun that we found out he was helplessly intoxicated. _Mrs. Horn._ How disagreeable for you! But this time everything has been quite perfect! _Mrs. Honey._ Well, I really think there has been no----Good gracious! I'm _sure_ somebody is being suffocated! _Did_ you hear that? [_From the core of the heap proceeds a sound at which every mother's heart quakes--a smothered cough ending in a long-drawn and ominous "oo-ook."_ _Mrs. Horn._ Depend upon it, that's whooping-cough! Tommy, come here this minute. (_Tommy emerges, crimson and crowing lustily; the mothers collect their offspring in dismay_). Oh! Tommy, Tommy, don't tell me it's _you_! It--it can't be _that_, dear Mrs. Honeybun; he's been nowhere where he could possibly----You naughty boy, you _know_ you are only pretending. Don't let me hear that horrid noise again. _Tommy_ (_injured_). But, mummy, _really_ I wasn't---- [_He justifies himself by producing a series of whoops with an unmistakably genuine ring_. _Mrs. Horn._ I think it's only a rather severe attack of hiccoughs, dear Mrs. Honeybun; but still, perhaps--just to be on the safe side--I'd better---- [_She departs in confusion, the crowd on the stairs dividing like Red Sea waves as Tommy proclaims his approach._ _Mrs. Honey_ (_after the last guest has gone_). I knew _something_ would happen! I must say it was _most_ inconsiderate of Mrs. Hornblower to bring that wretched little Tommy out and break up the party like this--it's not as if we were really _intimate_! Still, it was ridiculous of everybody else to hurry off too, as if whooping-cough was anything to be so mortally afraid of! I wasn't in the _least_ myself, as they might have seen. But perhaps it _is_ just as well that Edwin and Arthur had it last winter. * * * * * READY ANSWER.--_Uncle._ Now, how did the mother of Moses hide him? _Niece._ With a stick, uncle. * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE FACE OF IT _Pretty Teacher._ "Now, Johnny Wells, can you tell me what is meant by a miracle?" _Johnny._ "Yes, teacher. Mother says if you dun't marry new parson, 'twull be a murracle!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE DUET _Fond Mother_ (_to young hopeful, who has been sent upstairs to a room by himself as a punishment_). "You can come down now, Jacky." _Young Hopeful._ "Can't. I'se singing a duet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNCLE'S BANK HOLIDAY "Oh, uncle, we're so glad we've met you. We want you to take us on the roundabout, and stay on it till tea-time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Young Masher_ (_to rival_). "I say, old, chap, I hear you're an excellent runner. Is that true?" _Rival_ (_eagerly_). "Rather!" _Young Masher._ "Well, then, run home!"] * * * * * _Aunt._ Why, Tommy, I've only just taken a splinter out of your hand, and now you've let pussy scratch you. How did that happen? _Tommy_ (_who has been tampering with the cat's whiskers_). Well, I was only trying to get some of the splinters out of her face! * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE 
34676	----	COUNTRY LIFE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON * * * * * [Illustration] Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: BROWN'S COUNTRY HOUSE.--_Brown (who takes a friend home to see his new purchase, and strikes a light to show it)._ "Confound it, the beastly thing's stopped!"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE HUMOURS OF OUR RUSTICS AS PICTURED BY PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, GUNNING KING, LINLEY SAMBOURNE, G. D. ARMOUR, C. E. BROCK, TOM BROWNE, LEWIS BAUMER, WILL OWEN, F. H. TOWNSEND, G. H. JALLAND, G. E. STAMPA, AND OTHERS _WITH 180 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" * * * * * THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] ON RUSTIC HUMOUR Than the compilation of such a series of books as that which includes the present volume there could surely be no more engaging occupation for one who delights to look on the humorous side of life. The editor feels that if his readers derive as much enjoyment from the result of his labours as these labours have afforded him he may reasonably congratulate them! He has found himself many times over, as a book has taken shape from his gatherings in the treasure house of Mr. Punch, saying "This is the best of the lot"--and usually he has been right. There is none but is "the best!" There _may_ be one that is not quite so good as the other twenty-four; but wild horses would not drag the name of that one from the editor. He feels, however, that in illustrating the humours of country life Mr. Punch has risen to the very summit of his genius. There is, of course, good reason for this, as it is notorious that the richest humour is to be found in the lowly walks of life, and flourishes chiefly in rustic places where folks are simple and character has been allowed to grow with something of that individuality we find in the untouched products of Nature. Your true humorist has always been in quick sympathy with the humblest of his fellow men. In the village worthy, in poor blundering Hodge, in the rough but kindly country doctor, the picturesque tramp, the droning country parson, the inept curate, the village glee singers, and such like familiar figures of rural England, the humorist has never failed to find that "source of innocent merriment" he might seek for vainly in more exalted ranks of our complex society. But he seeks among the country folk because his heart is there. The very best of Mr. Punch's humorists of the pencil, Charles Keene and Phil May in the past, and Mr. Raven-Hill and Mr. C. E. Brock to-day, have given more consideration to the country ways of life than to any other, and hence the exceeding richness of the present volume. It is thus in no sense a comic picture of Mr. Punch's notions of how the so-called country life is attempted by the townsman--one of the most notable features of our present social conditions--but is, in effect, a refreshing breath of genuine rustic humour, kindly, whole-hearted, and "racy of the soil." [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE * * * * * THE BEST SHARE IN A FARM.--The plough-share. * * * * * A PROVERB FRESH FROM THE COUNTRY.--No gooseberry without a thorn. * * * * * THE CONNOISSEURS.--_Groom._ "Whew's Beer do you like best--this 'ere hom'brewed o' Fisk's, or that there ale they gives yer at the White Ho's'?" _Keeper_ (_critically_). "Well, o' the tew I prefers this 'ere. That there o' Wum'oods's don't fare to me to taste o' nawthun at all. Now this 'ere dew taste o' the cask!!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE AGRICULTURAL OUTLOOK (_From Dumb-Crambo Junior's Point of View._)] * * * * * THE LANGUAGE OF FRUITS Apple Discord. Pear Marriage. Plum Wealth. Pine Languishment. Gooseberry Simplicity. Medlar Interference. Service Assistance. Elder-berry Seniority. Fig Defiance. Sloe Tardiness. Crab Sour Temper. Date Chronology. Hip Applause. Haw Swells. Plaintain Growth. Pomegranate Seediness. Prune Retrenchment. * * * * * THE REAL LAND QUESTION.--How to make land _answer_. * * * * * PERFECT QUIET.--The still room. * * * * * [Illustration: LAND AND WATER.--_Prospective Purchaser_ (_arrived from town to see the locality as advertised some three weeks ago. He has not heard of the recent floods in this part of the country_). "Look here. Are you selling this property by the yard or by the pint?"] * * * * * A COUNTRY SELL.--_Native Joker_ (_dissembling_). It's been very fine here for the last week. _Tourist_ (_who has been kept in by the showers, indignantly_). _What's_ been very fine here? _Native._ The rain. Very fine rain. [_Exit Native Joker, hurriedly._ * * * * * "THE BEST OF IT."--_First Gentleman Farmer._ "Why, there goes that artful rogue, Billy Giles! Is he at his old tricks still?" _Second Ditto._ "He has cheated everybody down about here, sir, except me! He tried it on this winter, but I was too clever for him! Sold me a cow, and--(_triumphantly_)--I made him take it back at _half-price!!_" * * * * * THE REAL "LAND AGITATION."--An earthquake. * * * * * A CRY FROM KENT. Prosperity's fled from our gardens and grounds; How spindly our bines and how scanty our crops! Wealth _may_ be "advancing by leaps and by bounds," It certainly isn't by _hops_! * * * * * ADVICE TO FARMERS.--Feed your poultry well, and you will insure full crops. * * * * * [Illustration: _First Tramp_ (_to second ditto_). "That's a stylish sort of dawg you're a-wearin'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ENCOURAGING _Curate_ (_who wishes to encourage local industry_). "Well, Adams, how are you getting on with my watch?" _Adams._ "Why, it be nigh finished now, zur, an' 'e do zeem to go mortal well, but dang me, if there bain't a wheel as I can't find a place vor summow!"] * * * * * "I'm sorry to hear you've been ailing again, John. I must send you down something from the Rectory. How would you like some soup?" "Thanky kindly, mum--but I bain't so terr'ble wrapped up in soup!" * * * * * WHAT RURAL DEANS SMOKE.--"Church-wardens." * * * * * [Illustration: _Convivial Party._ "I shay, ole f'ller, how long doesh it take to gerout of thish wood?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Doctor._ "Well, you got those leeches I sent for your husband, Mrs. Giles?" _Mrs. Giles._ "Yes, zur; but what on earth be the good o' sending they little things vor a girt big chap like he? I jes' took an' clapped a ferret on 'un!"] * * * * * NOTE BY A CHIROPODIST (_in the country for the first time_).--"Must be very painful--corn in the ear." * * * * * A PASTORAL.--How should a shepherd arrange his dress? In folds. * * * * * THE DUNMOW FLITCH.--All gammon. * * * * * [Illustration: _Hotel-keeper_ (_who has let his "Assembly Room" for a concert_). "Well, sir, I 'ope you found the arrangements in the 'all satisfactory last night?" _Mr. Bawlington._ "Oh, yes; everything was all right. There was only one thing to object to. I found the acoustics of the building not quite----" _Hotel-keeper._ "No, sir; excuse me. _What you smelt was the stables next door!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Giles._ "I be got up here, mister, but I don't zee 'ow ever I be goin' to get down." _Farmer._ "Thee zhut thee eyes an' walk about a bit, an' thee'll zoon get down!"] * * * * * AN OLD OFFENDER.--_Country Gentleman_ (_eyeing his Gardener suspiciously_). "Dear, dear me, Jeffries, this is too bad! After what I said to you yesterday, I didn't think to find you----" _Gardener._ "You can't shay--(_hic_)--I wash drunk yesht'day, sh----!" _Country Gentleman_ (_sternly_). "Are you sober this morning, sir?" _Gardener._ "I'm--shlightly shober, shir!!" * * * * * [Illustration: QUALIFIED ADMIRATION.--_Country Vicar._ "Well, John, what do you think of London?" _Yokel._ "Lor' bless yer, sir, it'll be a fine place _when it's finished!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Squire's Daughter._ "Do you think it is quite healthy to keep your pigs so close to the cottage?" _Hodge._ "I dunno, miss. Noan of they pigs ain't ever been ill!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VERJUICE! _Farmer's Wife_ (_whose beer is of the smallest_). "Why, you hevn't drunk half of it, Mas'r Gearge!" _Peasant_ (_politely_). "Thanky', mu'm--all the same, mu'm. But I bean't so thusty as I thought I wor, mu'm!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR VILLAGE. _Nephew_ (_on a visit to the "Old Country"_). "Ah, uncle, in Canada we don't do our hay-makin' in this 'ere old-fashioned way." _Uncle._ "Why, you bean't never goin' to tell I as you've bin an' turned teetotal?"] * * * * * RECIPROCITY.--_Parson._ "I have missed you from your pew of late, Mr. Stubbings----" _Farmer_ (_apologetically_). "Well, sir, I hev' been to meet'n' lately, but--y' see, sir, the Reverend Mr. Scowles o' the chapel, he bought some pigs o' me, and I thought I ought to gi' 'm a tarn!" * * * * * THE FARMER FOR THE FAIR.--A husbandman. * * * * * [Illustration: _Doctor._ "Well, Mrs. Muggeridge, how are you getting on? Taken the medicine, eh?" _Mrs. M._ "Yes, doctor. I've taken all the tabloids you sent, and now I want a new persecution."] * * * * * ON A FOOTING.--Almost every considerable town has a market for corn; therefore, it is but fit that Bedford Market-place should have its Bunyan. * * * * * PLACE OF RESIDENCE FOR LODGERS.--Border-land. * * * * * SOUNDINGS!--(_The living down at our village falling vacant,_ Lord Pavondale _left it to the parish to choose the new rector._) _Influential Parishioner._ "Then am I to understand, Mr. Maniple, that you object to bury a Dissenter?" _The Rev. Mr. Maniple_ (_one of the competitors_). "Oh, dear me, no, Mr. Jinks; quite the contrary!" * * * * * A HIGH CHURCH PARTY.--A steeple-jack. * * * * * A CLERICAL ERROR.--A long sermon. * * * * * _Visitor._ "My good man, you keep your pigs much too near the house." _Cottager._ "That's just what the doctor said, mum. But I don't see how it's agoin' to hurt 'em!" * * * * * [Illustration: A QUIET VILLAGE] * * * * * A WET DIARY _January._--Buy a house in the Midland Counties. Put a housekeeper in it to look after it. _February._--Housekeeper writes to say that, owing to the floods, the neighbourhood is very damp and unhealthy. _March._--Housekeeper writes to say that the garden is under water. _April._--Housekeeper writes to say that there is two foot of water in the drawing-room, and that the furniture is floating about. _May._--Housekeeper writes to say that eighty feet of the garden wall has been washed away. _June._--Housekeeper writes to say that the two horses, one cow, and four pigs are drowned. _July._--Go and stop in the house myself. _August._--Escape from the bedroom windows in a boat. _September._--In bed with rheumatic fever. _October._--Housekeeper writes to say that the floods are out worse than ever. _November._--Somebody writes to say that the housekeeper has been drowned. _December._--Will try and sell house in the Midland Counties. * * * * * [Illustration: _Our Curate (who is going to describe to us his little holiday in lovely Lucerne)._ "My dear friends--I will not call you 'ladies and gentlemen,' since I know you too well----"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Tramp._ "Says in this 'ere paper as 'ow some of them millionaires works eight and ten hours a day, Bill." _The Philosopher._ "Ah, it's a 'ard world for some poor blokes!"] * * * * * A REAL CONVERT.--_Local Preacher (giving an account to the vicar of the parish of a dispute he has had with the leading lights of his sect)._ "Yes, sir, after treatment the likes o' that, I says to 'em, 'For the future,' says I, 'I chucks up all religion, and I goes to Church!'" * * * * * HABITS OF HEALTHY EXERCISE.--If a young lady is unable to sport a riding habit, she should adopt a walking habit. * * * * * [Illustration: THE HUMOURS OF HOUSE HUNTING.--_Lady._ "Very healthy place, is it? Have you any idea what the death-rate is here?" _Caretaker._ "Well, mum, I can't 'xactly zay; but it's about one apiece all round."] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD AT A COUNTRY FAIR "'Ere y' are! All the jolly fun! Lidies' tormentors two a penny!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT QUITE HER MEANING _The Vicar's Daughter._ "I'm glad to find you've turned over a new leaf, Muggles, and don't waste your money at the public-house." _Muggles._ "Yes, miss, I have it in by the barrel now, and that _do_ come cheaper!"] * * * * * TOWN THOUGHTS FROM THE COUNTRY _(With the usual apologies.)_ Oh, to be in London now that April's there, And whoever walks in London sees, some morning in the square, That the upper thousands have come to town, To the plane-trees droll in their new bark gown, While the sparrows chirp, and the cats miaow In London--now! And after April, when May follows And the black-coats come and go like swallows! Mark, where yon fairy blossom in the Row Leans to the rails, and canters on in clover, Blushing and drooping, with her head bent low! That's the wise child: she makes him ask twice over, Lest he should think she views with too much rapture Her first fine wealthy capture! But,--though her path looks smooth, and though, alack! All will be gay, till Time has painted black The _Marigold_, her mother's chosen flower,-- Far brighter is my _Heartsease_, Love's own dower. * * * * * MRS. RAMSBOTHAM is staying with her niece in the country. She is much delighted with the rich colour of the spring bulbs, and says she at last understands the meaning of "as rich as Crocus." * * * * * [Illustration: HIS BITTER HALF.--_John._ "Drink 'earty, Maria. Drink werry nigh 'arf."] * * * * * [Illustration: HORTICULTURAL CUTTINGS _(Culled by Dumb-Crambo Junior)_ Marshal Niel--Rose. Row-doe-den'd-run. Minion-ate. Pick-o'-tea. Car-nation. Dahli-a. Any-money. Double Pink. Few-shiers. Glad I-o-la!] * * * * * A CONUNDRUM TO FILL UP A GAP IN THE CONVERSATION.--Why is a person older than yourself like food for cattle? Because he's past your age (_pasturage_). * * * * * EVERYTHING COMES TO THE MAN WHO WAITS.--_Country Rector's Wife (engaging man-servant)._ And can you wait at dinner? _Man._ Aw, yes, mum; I'm never that hoongry but I can wait till you've done. * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF VESTED INTEREST _Vicar._ "Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" _Spokesman._ "Please, sir, we be a deputation from farmers down Froglands parish, to ask you to pray for fine weather for t'arvest." _Vicar._ "Why don't you ask your own Vicar?" _Spokesman._ "Well, sir, we reckon 'e be'unt much good for this 'ere. 'E do be that fond of fishin'."] * * * * * A RUSTIC MORALIST.--_Rector_ (_going his rounds_). "An uncommonly fine pig, Mr. Dibbles, I declare!" _Contemplative Villager._ "Ah, yes, sir: if we was only, all of us, as fit to die as him, sir!!" * * * * * QUERY.--Has the want of rain this summer, and consequent failure of the hay crops, affected the market for Grass Widows? * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _The Boy (to Brown, who has just taken a "little place" in the Country)._ "Plaze, zur, wot be I to start on?" _Brown._ "Oh--er--er--let's see----Oh, confound it!--er--er--_make a bonfire!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A VILLAGE FIASCO.--_Gifted Amateur (concluding pet card trick)._ "Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have seen the pack of cards burnt before your eyes, and the ashes placed inside the box, which mysteriously transformed itself into a rabbit, which, in turn, disappeared into space. I will now ask this gentleman to name the card he selected, when it will at once appear in my hand. Now, sir, what card did you select from the pack?" _Giles (who has been following the trick most intently)._ "Blessed if I recollect!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER THE FIRE _Rustic_ (_to burnt-out Farmer_). "We r--r--rescued the b--b--beer zur!"] * * * * * LOCAL PECULIARITIES At Bilston they always hit the right nail on the head. At Bolton it is impossible for those who run up ticks to bolt off. At Broadstairs the accommodation for stout visitors is unrivalled. At Colchester they are all "natives." At Coventry, strange to say, they can furnish no statistics of the number of persons who have been sent there. At Kidderminster there is certain to be something fresh on the _tapis_. At Liverpool they are extremely orthodocks. If you write to Newcastle (Staffordshire) take care to under-Lyne the address. At Newmarket they take particular interest in the question of races. At Portsmouth everything is ship-shape. At Rye you will meet none but Rye faces. At Sheffield you will always find a knife and fork laid for you. * * * * * [Illustration: "A GOOD WIT WILL MAKE USE OF ANYTHING" _Shakespeare, Henry the Fourth._ SCENE--_A Pit Village._ TIME--_Saturday Night._ _Barber_ (_to bibulous customer_). "Now, sir, if you don't hold your head back, I can't shave you!" _Pitman._ "A'well, hinney, just cut me hair!"] * * * * * WHAT OUR ARCHITECT HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_Our Architect_ (_Spotting Sixteenth Century gables_). "That's an old bit of work, my friend!" "Oi, sir, yeu be roight, theer, that you be!" _O. A._ (_keen for local tradition_). "You don't know exactly _how_ old, I suppose?" "Well, noa, sir; but old it be! Whoi, I's knowed it myself these _noine_ years!" * * * * * OUR VILLAGE INDUSTRIAL COMPETITION.--_Husband_ (_just home from the City_). "My angel!--crying!--Whatever's the matter?" _Wife._ "They've--awarded me--prize medal"--(_sobbing_)--"f' my sponge cake!" _Husband_ (_soothingly_). "And I'm quite sure it deserv----" _Wife_ (_hysterically_). "Oh--but--'t said--'twas--for the best specimen--o' concrete!" * * * * * _Our Choir-master_ (_after lamentable failure on part of Pupil_). "Confound it! I thought you said you could 'Read at sight'?" _Pupil._ "So I can. But not _first_ sight." * * * * * A TRULY RURAL DEAN.--The Dean of Ferns. * * * * * [Illustration: OUR F�TE _Village Worthy._ "It ain't so bad for Slowcombe, mum; but, lor' bless 'ee! 'tain't nothing to what they 'ud do in London!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Village Doctor._ "And what do you intend to make of this little man, Mrs. Brisket?" _Proud Mother._ "Butcher, sir. 'E's bound to be a butcher. Why, 'e 's that fond o' animals, we can 'ardly keep 'im out o' the slaughter-'ouse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HEAVEN HELPS THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES.-- _Doctor._ "Well, John, how are you to-day?" _John._ "Verra bad, verra bad. I wish Providence 'ud 'ave mussy on me an' take me!" _Wife._ "'Ow can you expect it to if you won't take the doctor's physic?"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONCLUSIVE _Lodger._ "I detect rather a disagreeable smell in the house, Mrs. Jones. Are you sure the drains----" _Welsh Landlady._ "Oh, it can't be the drains, sir, whatever. There are none, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Yorkshire Farmer_ (_who has laid a wager--to gentleman on weighing machine_). "Will ye tell us how mooch ye weigh, mister?" _Gentleman._ "Well, I'm seventeen stone seven." _Farmer._ "What did a' tell ye, lads? A' couldn't be wrang, for a's t' best joodge o' swine in t' coontry!"] * * * * * THE SWEETS OF COUNTRY LIFE (_Depicted by a Man of Feeling_) 'Tis sweet at Summer eve to rove, When brightly shines each twinkling star, And, strolling through the silent grove, Calmly to smoke a good cigar. 'Tis sweet upon the flowery mead To see the tender lambkins play, With pensive eye to watch them feed, And note how plump to roast are they. 'Tis sweet the fallow deer to view, Couched 'mid the fern in tranquil group; 'Tis sweet to hear the turtle's coo, And meditate on turtle soup. 'Tis sweet, from cares domestic free, While wandering by the streamlet's side, The speckled trout or perch to see, And think how nice they would be, fried. 'Tis sweet to mark the plover's flight, Lone on the moor, its nest despoiled; And with prospective mental sight To contemplate its eggs, hard boiled. 'Tis sweet, beside the murmuring rill, The scented violet to smell; Yet may a perfume sweeter still Attend the welcome dinner-bell! * * * * * [Illustration: THE COUNTRY IN THE FUTURE.--_Retired Citizen_ (_to Metropolitan Friend_). "What I enjoy so much in the country is the quiet! Now here, in my garden, my boy, you don't hear a sound, 'cepting the trains!!"] * * * * * FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.--_Tom Lothbury_ (_to Jack Billiter, who has "come in" to a nice little estate in Surrey, whereunto he intends retiring and rusticating_). "You'll keep cows, I s'pose, and all that sort of thing?" _Jack._ "Oh, no, can't bear milk." _Tom_ (_who has a taste for the rural_). "Cocks and hens, then?" _Jack._ "No, hate eggs and puddings and all that!" _Tom._ "Nor yet sheep?" _Jack._ "Eh, ah! Oh, yes; I'll have a sheep, I'm vewy fond of kidneys for bweakfast!" * * * * * QUERY.--If you give two persons a seat in a cornfield, can this proceeding be called "setting them by the ears"? * * * * * SIMPLE, BUT AGRICULTURAL.--_Q._ What is the best time for sowing tares? _A._ When the landlord goes round and collects his _rents_. * * * * * FOX'S MARTYRS.--Ducks, fowls, turkeys, and geese. * * * * * [Illustration: _Doctor._ "Well, Matthew, did you take those pills I sent you yesterday?" _Patient._ "Yes, doctor; but couldn't 'e do 'em up in something different? They little boxes be terrible hard to swallow!"] * * * * * ON THE WAY TO THE MANSE.--_Deacon MacTavish_ (_to_ Deacon MacBrose, _after visiting several hospitable houses on their way_). Hoot, mon Donald, yonder's the Meenister! Noo, I'll joost tek a few paces afore ye, in that ye may say gin my puir tired legs don't tremble. _Deacon MacBrose._ Gae forrard, Sandy, gae forrard! _Deacon MacTavish_ (_after stumbling ahead for several yards_). Weel, Donald, hoo gae they? _Deacon MacBrose._ Richt bonnily, Sandy, richt bonnily. But wha's the mon that's walking beside ye? * * * * * FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS.--(_Young Curate finds a Miner sitting on a gate smoking._)--_Curate_ (_desirous to ingratiate himself with one of his flock_). A fine morning, my friend. _One of his flock gives the slightest nod, and a grunt, and spits._ _Curate_ (_supposing that he had not been heard_). A fine morning, my good friend. _One of his flock._ Did I say it warn't. Do you want to hargue, you beggar? * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady._ "And you say you have been brought to this by your wife?" _Tramp._ "Yuss, lidy. I got 'er three good jobs, and 'er bloomin' independence lorst 'er the lot of 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_The Hall of a Country House. Guests arriving for dinner._ _Perkins_ (_the extra man who is had in to help at most dinners given in the neighbourhood--confidentially but audibly_). "Good evening, Miss Waters. There's some of that nice pudding here to-night, what last time you took twice of!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Bishop of Lichbury._ "Really, it's very shocking to read in the papers so many painful cases of wife-beating and assault among the labouring classes!" _The Rev. Mr. Simmiel._ "It is indeed, my lord. Indeed--ahem--with your lordship's permission, one might almost call them _be_labouring classes."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Parson._ "Good morning, Mrs. Stubbins. Is your husband at home?" _Mrs. Stubbins._ "'E's 'ome, sir; but 'e 's a-bed." _Parson._ "How is it he didn't come to church on Sunday? You know we must have our hearts in the right place." _Mrs. Stubbins._ "Lor, sir, 'is 'eart's all right. It's 'is trowziz!"] * * * * * A POACHER'S PARADISE.--_About an hour from town._--Charming bijou residence ... _grounds adjoin a large pheasant preserve; owner going abroad._--_Advt. in "Standard."_ * * * * * "A CROP EXPERT."--A professional hair-dresser. * * * * * [Illustration: IMPARTIAL _New Curate_ (_who wishes to know all about his parishioners_). "Then do I understand you that your aunt is on your father's side, or your mother's?" _Country Lad._ "Zometimes one an' zometimes the other, 'ceptin' when feyther whacks 'em both, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE MODESTY _Mr. Spinks._ "I had such a beautiful dream last night, Miss Briggs! I thought I was in the Garden of Eden----" _Miss Briggs_ (_with simplicity_). "And did Eve appear as she is generally represented, Mr. Spinks?" _Mr. Spinks._ "I--I--I--I--didn't look!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROFESSIONAL PARTNERSHIP.--_Village Organ-blower_ (_to Lady Organist, who has been trying a new voluntary_). "How did it go, marm?" "Oh, all right. Why do you ask?" "Well, marm, to tell you the truth, I was a bit nervous about it. You see, marm, I've never blowed for that piece afore!"] * * * * * FARM NOTES _How to Winnow Corn._ _1st Method._--Get some corn. Get somebody who knows how to winnow it. Let him do it. _2nd Method._--If _you_ know all about it, do it yourself. _3rd Method, for Beginners, given in Agricultural Terms._ Place a steward near the blower, and let him drive the blower while the hopper is filled with a large wecht. (This is called the system of _Hopper_-ation.) Then let a woman with a small wecht slide down on a wheel crushing the blower with her shoes. This should be done in a neat, cleanly way until the scum has been swept with a besom through a wire screen, while another lot go on riddling, when it is the duty of the fanner to answer each riddle as it comes out. The fanner's chief work is, however, to prevent any labourer becoming too hot. When a labourer is very warm, he sits down before the fanner, who soon restores him to coolness. _Treatment of Fowls in Winter._--Roast them. _For the Volunteer-farmer in Winter._--Attend turnip drills. _How to Pickle Pork._--Get the hog into a proper temperature. To bring this about make him swallow a small thermometer. This'll warm him. Rub him with paper dipped in oil, give him a uniform coating of barley, tar, syrup of squills, pitch, and gold tin-foil. Paint his head green with orange stripes, and by that time he'll be in a pretty pickle. _Breakfast._--Always visit your poultry yard before breakfast. If unable to find a fresh egg, go to the cattle sheds. Remember that, where eggs cannot be obtained, a _yoke_ of fine oxen beaten up with a cup of tea is most invigorating. * * * * * [Illustration: POLITICAL GARDEN PARTY IN THE PROVINCES.-- _Great Lady_ (_speeding the parting guest_). "So glad you were able to come!" _Mayoress._ "Oh, we always try to oblige!"] * * * * * AGRICULTURAL.--A South of England farmer writes to us to say, that he has an early harvest in view, as he has already got three ricks in his neck, and is doing very well. * * * * * FURTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE MINING DISTRICTS.--_First Polite Native._ "Who's 'im, Bill?" _Second ditto._ "A stranger!" _First ditto._ "'Eave 'arf a brick at 'im." * * * * * HOW TO TREAT ROUGH DIAMONDS.--Cut them! * * * * * [Illustration: _District Visitor._ "Well, Mrs. Hodges, going to have a cup of tea?" _Mrs. Hodges._ "Oh no, miss; we're just goin' to 'ave a wash!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHO'D HAVE THOUGHT IT! "Well, Johnson, been to the doctor, as I told you?" "Yes, m'lord." "And what did he say was the matter with you?" "'E says it's just _general ability_, m'lord, that's all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SAGACITY.--_Countryman._ "Fi' pounds too much for him? He's a won'erful good sportin' daug, sir! Why, he come to a dead pint in the street, sir, close ag'in a ol' gen'leman, the other day--'fust o' September it was, sir!--an' the gen'leman told me arterwards as his name were 'Partridge'!" _Customer._ "You don't say so!" [_Bargain struck._] * * * * * HORTICULTURE UP TO DATE Stimulated by the recent achievements of a horticulturist, who is about to place on the market the "pomato," a blend of the apple and tomato, and the "plumcot," a mixture of plum and apricot, _Mr. Punch_ hopes soon to be able to announce the successful rearing of the following novelties:-- _The Cumberry._--This may be regarded either as a very long gooseberry or a very short cucumber, according to fancy. When fully ripe the skin is thin and the contents pulpy. Unripe it is like a cobble, and may be used as such. _Mr. Punch_ is disposed to think that the over-ripe cumberry will be very popular at elections, especially when eggs are scarce. The hairy variety looks like a fat caterpillar, and makes very good grub. _The Mistletato_, a happy combination of the romantic and the domestic. This fruit, which has a very piquant flavour, has been grown in a small patch of soil, concealed, like King CHARLES, among the branches of an oak. Hence it is not surprising that the Mistletato should combine the nourishing qualities of the homely tuber with the sentimental associations of that plant which was revered by our Druid ancestors and is beloved by modern maidens. It should be a popular dish at wedding breakfasts. _The Pumpkonion_ promises well and seems likely to combine the amplitude of the pumpkin with the pungency of the onion. _Mr. Punch_ is of opinion that a machine will have to be invented for dealing with this vegetable, as to handle it would be too severe a tax upon the cook's lachrymal glands. _The Turniparrot_ and the _Parsniparagus_ are not yet sufficiently developed to be described with any confidence. Many others are only in an incipient state at present, but _Mr. Punch_ hopes to be able before long to announce that he has brought several to maturity, including the Collage and the Cabbyflower. * * * * * [Illustration: ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.-- _Stepmother_ (_entering village school with whip_). "My boy tells me you broke your cane across his back yesterday?" _Schoolmaster_ (_turning pale_). "Well, I--I may have struck harder than I intended, but----." _Stepmother._ "I thought I'd make you a present of this whip. You'll find it'll last longer and do him more good!"] * * * * * A RIDDLE FROM COLNEY HATCH.--_Q._ Why have we reason to suppose that a bee is a rook? _A._ Because. * * * * * THE ORIGIN OF RURAL DECADENCE.--Through communications corrupt good manners. * * * * * [Illustration: "SECOND THOUGHTS" _Priest._ "Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?" _Bridegroom Elect._ "Well, aw's warned aw'll hev to hev her. But aw wad rayther hev her sister!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Vicar's Daughter._ "Awfully cold, isn't it, Mrs. Muggles?" _Mrs. Muggles._ "Yes, my dear. But, bless ye, I'm _lovely_ and warm!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Townley._ "I think the country is just sweet. I love to see the peasant returning to his humble cot, his sturdy figure outlined against the setting sun, his faithful collie by his side, and his plough upon his shoulder!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Bishop of Lichborough_ (_who has been on a visit to a sporting squire_). "Now, I wonder if your man has remembered to put in my pastoral staff?" _William_ (_overhearing_). "Yes, my lord. I've put your lordship's gun-case into the carriage!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Curate, after weeks of serious reading and conversation with Gaffer Stokes without much apparent result, is at last rewarded by a look of rapt exaltation on the Gaffer's face._ _Gaffer Stokes._ "A-men! That's the first wopps I see this year!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GOOD REASON. _Sympathetic Cousin._ "Poor boy! I'm so sorry you didn't pass your exam. What was the reason, I wonder?" _Poor Boy_ (_also wondering_). "I can't think."] * * * * * [Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT _Obliging Country Butcher._ "Let me cut it into cutlets for you, ma'am,--leaving just enough bone for you to hold 'em by, while you're eating 'em!"] * * * * * WAGES AND WIVES.--_Philanthropic Farmer._ "Well, Tompkins, after this week, instead of paying you partly in cider, I shall give you two shillings extra wages." _Tompkins._ "No, thanky', master; that won't do for me!" _Farmer._ "Why, man, you'll be the gainer; for the cider you had wasn't worth two shillings!" _Tompkins._ "Ah, but you see I drinks the cider myself; but the ow'd 'ooman 'll 'ev the two shillun'!!" * * * * * A PUZZLE IN HORTICULTURE.--_Little Chris._ Daddy, what makes onions? _Daddy._ Seeds, of course. _Little Chris._ Then what makes seeds? _Daddy._ Onions. _Little Chris_ (_triumphantly_). Then why don't us feed the canary on onions? [_Discomfiture and retreat of Daddy._ * * * * * AGRICULTURAL QUESTION.--Is a landlord who allows his farms to be over-stocked with rabbits entitled to be called a great bunnyfactor? * * * * * [Illustration: "AT ONE FELL SWOOP" _Wife._ "Well, did ye find th' puddin' I left for you in the saucepan?" _Collier_ (_whose favourite dish is boiled puddings_). "Oh, ay; I found it right enough. It were a stunner!" _Wife._ "Did you take the cloth off?" _Collier_ (_after a pause_). "Were there a cloth _on_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Rector_ (_short-sighted_). "Well, Richard, hard at work, eh? Let me see, you _are_ Richard, aren't you?" _Labourer._ "No, sir, oi be John, sir. You _'ad the pleasure o' buryin'_ Richard last week, you remember, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Tramp._ "Why don't you go in? 'E's all right. Don't you see 'im a-waggin' his tail?" _Second Tramp._ "Yus; an' don't you see 'im a-growlin'? I dunno which end to believe!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROBABLY _He._ "I hope there are no bulls in here. I can't run as fast as I used to." _She._ "I'm told that's the worst thing to do. I think if you stand and look at them, it's enough to send them away!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SOMETHING LIKE A MEDICINE" _Doctor._ "Now remember, my man, three or four drops of this mixture three times a day--and _inhale_." _Patient._ "Be I to take it in four or six hale, guv'nor?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AGRICULTOORAL-LOORALS (_By Dumb-Crambo Junior_) Silo (Sigh low). Judging Stock. Best Turn Out of Horse and Cart. Hurry For'ds (Herefords). Threshing Machine. The Cat 'll Show. Live Stock. Jerseys. A Tuber. Pa's-Nips. Cab-age.] * * * * * IN A SOMERSETSHIRE INN.--_Mr. Fitz-Archibald Smith_ (_of London, to the Landlord_).--Is there a hair-dresser in the village? I want to be shampooed and shaved. _Landlord._ Well, zur, I doant know much about the shampoodling, but our ostler's used to clipping horses. Would 'e like to try him? * * * * * FROM THE POULTRY.--When does a hen like beer? When she has a little _brood_. * * * * * SHOCKING BAD HUSBANDRY.--Baby-farming. * * * * * LATEST FROM OUR FARMYARD.--_In the Fowl House._--"Left sitting." * * * * * "A LITTLE LEARNING."--_Lady Tactful_ (_visiting small farmer_). I hope, John, the rain has not damaged the wheat. _John._ Ah, my lady, some of it will never grow; the wet has _busted_ it. _Mrs. John_ (_who is "educated"_). He should have said "_bursted_" my lady. That's what he means. _Lady Tactful._ Never mind. I think I prefer the old-fashioned pronunciation. * * * * * [Illustration: _Amateur Gardener_ (_to goat-fancying neighbour_). "Hi, madam. One of your confounded pets has got into my garden, and is eating my bedding-plants!" _Neighbour._ "Good gracious! _I trust they are not poisonous!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: MORE AMALGAMATION.--_Parish Councillor._ "Wull, I do voate that the two par'shes be marmaladed." _Chairman._ "Our worthy brother councillor means, I understand, that the two parishes should be _jammed together_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Village Gossip._ "Did ye 'ere as owd Sally Sergeant's dead? 'Er what's bin pew-opener up to Wickleham Church nigh on fifty year." _The Village Atheist_ (_solemnly_). "Ah! see what comes o' pew-openin'!"] * * * * * THE HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECORD OF CHARACTER.--_New Rector of Swaddlington_ (_to Sexton_). I see that the forge is close by the church, Grassmore. I hope that the smith is one of our friends? _Sexton._ Why, bless 'ee, yes, sir, 'e 's the only man in all the parish as settled over the Cesarewitch. * * * * * HINT TO THE MANAGERS OF POULTRY SHOWS.--Exhibit some henpecked husbands. * * * * * A BLACK COUNTRY SYNONYM.--Ruling with a rod of iron.--Beating your wife with a poker. * * * * * A PERFECT CURE.--_Town Man._ "How jolly it must be, living down here in the country!" _Country Gentleman._ "Oh, I don't know. It's rather a torpid sort of life; time passes very slowly." _Town Man._ "Time passes slowly? You should get somebody to draw on you at three months!!" * * * * * THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.--When the roses sweetly breathe a dew. * * * * * [Illustration: FORBEARANCE.--_Young Lady._ "John, how long shall you be, as I want to practise?" _Gallant Young Gardener._ "Oh, goo yeouw on, Miss Amy--goo yeouw on! I sha'n't mind yar noise!"] * * * * * THE FARMING OF THE FUTURE; _Or, What British Agriculture is coming to._ SCENE.--_A Car on an Electric Light-railway._ TIME--_The Twentieth Century._ _First Farmer_ (_recognising Second Farmer_). Why, 'tis Muster Fretwail, surelie! didn't see it was you afore. And how be things gettin' along with _you_, sir, eh? _Farmer Fretwail_ (_lugubriously_). 'Mong the middlin's, Muster Lackaday; 'mong the middlin's! Nothen doin' just now--nothen 't all! _Third Farmer_ (_enviously_). Well, _you_ hevn't no call fur to cry out, neighbour! I see you've got a likely lot o' noo 'oardins comin' up all along your part o' the line. I wish mine wur arf as furrard, I know thet! _F. Fretwail._ Ah, them "Keep yer 'air on" 's, _you_ mean, Ryemouth. I don't deny as they was lookin' tidy enough a week back. But just as I was makin' ready fur to paint up "Try it on a Billiard Ball," blamed if this yere frost didn't set in, and now theer's everything at a standstill wi' the brushes froze 'ard in the pots! _F. Ryemouth._ 'Tis the same down with me. Theer 's a acre o' "Bunyan's Easy Boots" as must hev a noo coat, and I cann't get nothen done to 'en till th' weather's a bit more hopen like. Don' keer _'ow_ soon we hev a change, myself, I don't! _F. Lackaday._ Nor yet me, so long as we don't 'ave no gales with it. Theer was my height-acre pasture as I planted only las' Candlemas wi' "Roopy's Lung Tonics"--wunnerful fine and tall they was too--and ivery one on 'en blowed down the next week! _F. Fretwail._ Well, I 'ope theer wun't be no rain, neither, come to that. I know I 'ad all the P's of my "Piffler's Persuasive Pillules" fresh gold-leaved at Michaelmas, and it come on wet directly arter I done it, and reg'lar washed the gilt out o' sight an' knowledge, it did. Theer ain't no standin' up agen rain! _F. Ryemouth._ I dunno as I wouldn't as lief hev rain as sun. My "Hanti-Freckle Salves" all blistered up and peeled afoor the summer was 'ardly begun a'most. _F. Lackaday._ 'Tis a turr'ble 'ard climate to make 'ead against, is ourn. I've 'eard tell as some farmers are takin' to they enamelled hiron affairs, same as they used to hev when I wur a lad. I mind theer wur a crop o' "Read Comic Cagmag" as lingered on years arter the paper itself. Not as I hold with enamelling, myself--'tain't what I call 'igh farmin'--takes too much outer the land in _my_ 'pinion. _F. Fretwail._ Aye, aye. "Rotation o' boards." Say, "Spooner's Sulphur Syrup" fur a spring crop, follered with some kind o' soap or candles, and p'raps cough lozengers, or hembrocation, or bakin' powder, if the soil will bear it, arterwards--that's the system _I_ wur reared on, and theer ain't no better, 'pend upon it! _F. Ryemouth._ I tell 'ee what 'tis; it's time we 'ad some protection agen these yere furrin advertisements. I was travellin' along the Great Northern tother day, and I see theer was two or three o' them French boards nigh in ivery field, a downright shame an' disgrace I call it, disfigurin' the look o' the country and makin' it that ontidy--let alone drivin' honest British boards off the land. Government ought to put a stop to it; that's what _I_ say! _F. Lackaday._ They Parliment chaps don't keer _what_ becomes of us poor farmers, they don't. Look at last General Election time. They might ha' given our boards a turn; but not they. Most o' they candidates did all their 'tisin' with rubbishy flags and balloons--made in Japan, sir, every blamed one o' them! And they wonder British agriculture don't prosper more! _F. Ryemouth._ Speakin' o' queer ways o' hadvertisin', hev any on ye set eyes on that farm o' young FULLACRANK'S? Danged if iver _I_ see sech tom-fool notions as he's took up with in all _my_ born days! _F. Fretwail._ Why, what hev he bin up to _now_, eh? _F. Ryemouth._ Well, I thought I shud ha' bust myself larfin' when I see it fust. Theer ain't not a board nor a sky sign; no, nor yet a 'oarding, on the 'ole of his land! _F. Lackaday._ Then how do he expect to get a profit out of it?--that's what _I_ want to year. _F. Ryemouth._ You' ll 'ardly credit it, neighbours but he's been buryin' some o' they furrin grains, hoats and barley, an' I dunno what not, in little 'oles about his fields, so as to make the words, "Use Faddler's Non-farinaceous Food"--and the best on it is the darned young fool expecks as 'ow it'll all sprout come next Aperl--he do indeed, friends! _F. Fretwail._ Flyin' in the face of Providence, I calls it. He must ha' gone clean out of his senses! _F. Lackaday._ Stark starin' mad. I never heerd tell o' such extravagance. Why, as likely as not, 'twill all die off o' the land afore the year's out--and wheer wull he be _then_? _F. Ryemouth._ Azackly what I said to 'en myself. "You tek my word for it," I sez, "'twun't niver come to no good. The nateral crop for these yere British Hisles," I told 'en, "is good honest Henglish hoak an' canvas," I sez, "and 'tain't the action of no sensible man, nor yet no Christian," sez I, "to go a drillin' 'oles and a-droppin' in houtlandish seeds from Canada an' Roosha, which the sile wasn't never intended to bear!" _Farmers Fretwail and Lackaday._ Rightly spoke, neighbour Ryemouth, 'twas a true word! But theer'll be a jegement on sech new-fangled doin's, and, what's moor, you and I will live fur to see it afore we're very much older! [_They all shake their heads solemnly as scene closes in._ * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _The New Curate._ "Superb day, isn't it?" _Giles._ "Ay?" _Curate._ "Superb day." _Giles._ "Ay?" _Curate._ "Er--a--_superb--day!_" _Giles._ "Whoa, Dobbin!" (_Pulls up_). "Ay?" _Curate._ "I only remarked--er--it was a _superb day_." _Giles._ "D----! Gw'on, Dobbin!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Serious Old Party._ "Eh, but this is a wicked world!" _Flippant Individual._ "You are right, Mrs. Mumble. For my part, I shall be quite satisfied if I get out of it alive!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OBLIGING.--_Lady_ (_to village jobber, who for days has been "working" in the house_). "Can you tell me when you are likely to have _finished_ this job?" _Village Jobber._ "If _you_ can tell me, mum, wheer I'm likely to get another."] * * * * * [Illustration: USEFUL INFORMATION.--_Jones_ (_who has forsworn town life for a more healthful existence, to hired compendium of agricultural knowledge at 14s. 6d. a week, with cottage and 'tater patch_). "Do you know anything about bees, Isaac?" _Isaac._ "Yes, they stings!"] * * * * * RURAL FELICITY [This is the second Nature article that has recently arrived at _Mr. Punch's_ offices through inadvertence. It was obviously intended for _The Country-Side_, the new Harmsworth-Robinson organ, which is designed to bring home to townsmen the wonders of country life.] Evening in the country! A Spring evening! Ah, you dweller in the close perfervid city, how I wish I could have transported you to my side yesterday, while I stood and watched the sinking fire of day (a bright impulsive fellow this sun) waving me from his Orient window. A GLAD GOOD-NIGHT! How I wish you could have lain near me on that pile of fresh-cut hay, redolent of clover and the scarlet vetch, lulled to sleep, it may be, by the low moaning of rats in the stack, or the melancholy hoot of the night-jar! Sleep follows swiftly, sleep such as you denizens of the crowded street can never know--sleep beneath the stars. * * * * * Up with the lark! Shelley's skylark! There he is, the blithe unconscious creature, hovering above the plough-share, ready to pounce upon the first unwary field-vole upturned from his NEST IN THE LUXURIANT LOAM. My heart is full to bursting as I pass onward into the harvest-field and watch the gleaners at their busy toil. For one thing I have my "Topical Quotations" to prepare, and am "dividing my swift mind" between the _Georgics_ of Virgil and Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality" for a suitable selection. Then there are the straw bonnets and rough smocks of the rustics to be sketched for the fashion-plate, and my column upon the Insanitary Condition of Birds' Nests to be compiled. Yet how difficult to fix one's mind upon mere journalism, when on this side and on that the lithe rabbit is popping up from his "forme," and beneath their white blossoms the red strawberries lurk under every springing hedge-tuft. A glass of creamy butter-milk supplied by the smiling lass at the cottage wicket, together with a light and delicious scone EATEN IN THE STUBBLE under the sighing alders, has served me for my simple yet hygienic meal. And now as I watch the shepherd lead his flock of lowing kine into the pastures, the stately old bell-wether bringing up the rear, I feel that here is life indeed, and here (had the exigencies of a week-end return permitted) I could willingly have spent the remainder of my days, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," but inexorable Fate with her iron shears forbids. I must BACK TO THE SMOKY STREETS once more and my half-finished essay on "Cotton-spinning in our Great Public Schools." Brief dream, farewell! * * * * * [Illustration: HORTICULTURAL _Vicar's Daughter._ "Well, John, I see you are looking as young as ever." _John._ "Yes, miss, thankyee. An' they tell me I'll soon be an octogeranium."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Oi be eighty-foive, zur." "Dear me! You don't look it. And how old is your wife?" "Oh, she be eighty-foive too. But she've looked it fer the last fowrty year!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "BENEFITS FORGOT!"--_Old Gentleman_ (_he had been chased across the field by the infuriated animal, and only just scrambled over the gate in time--gasping for breath_). "You in--fernal un--gra'ful beast!--an' me--been veg'tarian allm'life!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TEMPORA MU-TATUR!! _First Farmer._ "Aye, 'taters gets complaints now they never got in my young days."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Be it true as your nevvy b'ain 't?] a-goin' to marry that Miss Giles arter all?" "Well, you see I 'vised 'un to gie up matrimony, an' take to a trade."] * * * * * [Illustration: PLEASURING!--_Vicar_ (_to old lady, who is returning from a funeral_). "Well, Martha, I'm afraid you've had a sad afternoon. It has been a long walk, too, for you----" _Martha._ "Sure-ly, 'tis sir; Ah, sir, 'tain't much pleasure now for me to go to funerals; I be too old and full o' rheumatiz. It was very different when we was young--that 'twer!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sexton_ (_to a divine, who was spending his holidays in the country and who, on the sudden illness of the village parson, volunteered to take the duties_). "A worse preacher would have done for us, sir, _but we couldn't get one_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PREDESTINED!--_Northern Matron_ (_before the School Board_). "I'm not against eddication, ladies and gen'l'men. I al'ays make him take his book o' nights. But reelly I calls it a flyin' in the face o' providence to be keepin' a boy out o' the stables with such a pair o' legs as his'n!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Carrier._ "Try zideways, Mrs. Jones, try zideways!" _Mrs. Jones._ "Lar' bless 'ee, John, I ain't got no zideways."] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S AGRICULTURAL NOVEL BO AND THE BLACKSHEEP. _A Story of the Sex._ (_By_ THOMAS OF WESSEX, _Author of "Guess how a Murder feels," "The Cornet Minor," "The Horse that Cast a Shoe," "One in a Turret," "The Foot of Ethel hurt her," "The Flight of the Bivalve," "Hard on the Gadding Crowd," "A Lay o' Deceivers," &c._) ["I am going to give you", writes the Author of this book, "one of my powerful and fascinating stories of life in modern Wessex. It is well known, of course, that although I often write agricultural novels, I invariably call a spade a spade, and not an agricultural implement. Thus I am led to speak in plain language of women, their misdoings, and their undoings. Unstrained dialect is a speciality. If you want to know the extent of Wessex, consult histories of the Heptarchy with maps."] CHAPTER I. In our beautiful Blackmoor or Blakemore Vale not far from the point where the Melchester Road turns sharply towards Icenhurst on its way to Wintoncester, having on one side the hamlet of Batton, on the other the larger town of Casterbridge, stands the farmhouse wherewith in this narrative we have to deal. There for generations have dwelt the rustic family of the Peeps, handing down from father to son a well-stocked cow-shed and a tradition of rural virtues which yet excluded not an overgreat affection on the male side for the home-brewed ale and the home-made language in which, as is known, the Wessex peasantry delights. On this winter morning the smoke rose thinly into the still atmosphere, and faded there as though ashamed of bringing a touch of Thermidorean warmth into a degree of temperature not far removed from the zero-mark of the local Fahrenheit. Within, a fire of good Wessex logs crackled cheerily upon the hearth. Old Abraham Peep sat on one side of the fireplace, his figure yet telling a tale of former vigour. On the other sat Polly, his wife, an aimless, neutral, slatternly peasant woman, such as in these parts a man may find with the profusion of Wessex blackberries. An empty chair between them spoke with all an empty chair's eloquence of an absent inmate. A butter-churn stood in a corner next to an ancient clock that had ticked away the mortality of many a past and gone Peep. CHAPTER II. "Where be Bonduca?" said Abraham, shifting his body upon his chair so as to bring his wife's faded tints better into view. "Like enough she's met in with that slack-twisted 'hor's bird of a feller, Tom Tatters. And she'll let the sheep draggle round the hills. My soul, but I'd like to baste 'en for a poor slammick of a chap." Mrs. Peep smiled feebly. She had had her troubles. Like other realities, they took on themselves a metaphysical mantle of infallibility, sinking to minor cerebral phenomena for quiet contemplation. She had no notion how they did this. And, it must be added, that they might, had they felt so disposed, have stood as pressing concretions which chafe body and soul--a most disagreeable state of things, peculiar to the miserably passive existence of a Wessex peasant woman. "Bonduca went early," she said, adding, with a weak irrelevance, "she mid 'a' had her pick to-day. A mampus o' men have bin after her--fourteen o' 'em, all the best lads round about, some of 'em wi' bags and bags of gold to their names, and all wanting Bonduca to be their lawful wedded wife." Abraham shifted again. A cunning smile played about the hard lines of his face. "Polly," he said, bringing his closed fist down upon his knee with a sudden violence, "you pick the richest, and let him carry Bonduca to the pa'son. Good looks wear badly, and good characters be of no account; but the gold's the thing for us. Why," he continued, meditatively, "the old house could be new thatched, and you and me live like Lords and Ladies, away from the mulch o' the barton, all in silks and satins, wi' golden crowns to our heads, and silver buckles to our feet." Polly nodded eagerly. She was a Wessex woman born, and thoroughly understood the pure and unsophisticated nature of the Wessex peasant. CHAPTER III. Meanwhile Bonduca Peep--little Bo Peep was the name by which the country-folk all knew her--sat dreaming upon the hill-side, looking out with a premature woman's eyes upon the rich valley that stretched away to the horizon. The rest of the landscape was made up of agricultural scenes and incidents which the slightest knowledge of Wessex novels can fill in amply. There were rows of swedes, legions of dairymen, maidens to milk the lowing cows that grazed soberly upon the rich pasture, farmers speaking rough words of an uncouth dialect, and gentlefolk careless of a milkmaid's honour. But nowhere, as far as the eye could reach, was there a sign of the sheep that Bo had that morning set forth to tend for her parents. Bo had a flexuous and finely-drawn figure not unreminiscent of many a vanished knight and dame, her remote progenitors, whose dust now mouldered in many churchyards. There was about her an amplitude of curve which, joined to a certain luxuriance of moulding, betrayed her sex even to a careless observer. And when she spoke, it was often with a fetishistic utterance in a monotheistic falsetto which almost had the effect of startling her relations into temporary propriety. CHAPTER IV. Thus she sat for some time in the suspended attitude of an amiable tiger-cat at pause on the edge of a spring. A rustle behind her caused her to turn her head, and she saw a strange procession advancing over the parched fields where--[Two pages of field-scenery omitted.--ED.] One by one they toiled along, a far-stretching line of women sharply defined against the sky. All were young, and most of them haughty and full of feminine waywardness. Here and there a coronet sparkled on some noble brow where predestined suffering had set its stamp. But what most distinguished these remarkable processionists in the clear noon of this winter day was that each one carried in her arms an infant. And each one, as she reached the place where the enthralled Bonduca sat obliviscent of her sheep, stopped for a moment and laid the baby down. First came the Duchess of Hamptonshire followed at an interval by Lady Mottisfont and the Marchioness of Stonehenge. To them succeeded Barbara of the House of Grebe, Lady Icenway and Squire Petrick's lady. Next followed the Countess of Wessex, the Honourable Laura and the Lady Penelope. Anna, Lady Baxby, brought up the rear. Bonduca shuddered at the terrible re-encounter. Was her young life to be surrounded with infants? She was not a baby-farm after all, and the audition of these squalling nurslings vexed her. What could the matter mean? No answer was given to these questionings. A man's figure, vast and terrible, appeared on the hill's brow, with a cruel look of triumph on his wicked face. It was Thomas Tatters. Bonduca cowered; the noble dames fled shrieking down the valley. "Bo," said he, "my own sweet Bo, behold the blood-red ray in the spectrum of your young life." "Say those words quickly," she retorted. "Certainly," said Tatters. "Blood-red ray, Broo-red ray, Broo-re-ray, Brooray! Tush!" he broke off, vexed with Bonduca and his own imperfect tongue-power, "you are fooling me. Beware!" "I know you, I know you!" was all she could gasp, as she bowed herself submissive before him. "I detest you, and shall therefore marry you. Trample upon me!" And he trampled upon her. CHAPTER V. Thus Bo Peep lost her sheep, leaving these fleecy tail-bearers to come home solitary to the accustomed fold. She did but humble herself before the manifestation of a Wessex necessity. And Fate, sitting aloft in the careless expanse of ether, rolled her destined chariots thundering along the pre-ordained highways of heaven, crushing a soul here and a life there with the tragic completeness of a steam-roller, granite-smashing, steam-fed, irresistible. And butter was churned with a twang in it, and rustics danced, and sheep that had fed in clover were "blasted," like poor Bonduca's budding prospects. And, from the calm nonchalance of a Wessex hamlet, another novel was launched into a world of reviews, where the multitude of readers is not as to their external displacements, but as to their subjective experiences. [THE END. * * * * * [Illustration: "HINC ILL� LACRYIM�" _Master Tommy_ (_returning from the funeral_). "Why did Uncle Jonas cry so for, Aunt? He cried more than anybody!" _Aunt_ (_grimly_). "Of course! Most of the property is left to him, my dear!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "What's that there blank space left for, Jim?" "Why, that's for the folks as can't read!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A YORKSHIRE GOSSIP _First Gossip._ "So you was nivver axed tu t'funeral?" _Second Gossip._ "Nivver as much as inside t'house. But nobbut; wait till _we_ hev' a funeral of us own, an' _we_'ll show 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Parson._ "Why, John, what are you doing there?" _John._ "I be too wet to work, zur." _Parson._. "Well, if it's too wet to work, why don't you go home?" _John._ "Wull, my old 'ooman, she do jaw so!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Young Lady._ "Can you tell me the nearest way to get to Pulham from here?" _Sweep._ "Well, miss, I'm going there meself. So, if yer jump in, I'll drive yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Village Dame._ "Did I bring you back that basket you lent me last week?" _Second Dame_ (_emphatically_). "No, indeed, you did not." _First Dame._ "That's a pity, for I just came round to borrow it again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Here in cool grot and mossy cell We rural fays and fairies dwell!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HARD ON THE DOCTOR--_Old Lady._ "My 'usband 'e never did 'old with doctors, and 'e wouldn't let me send for yer till 'e was real bad. What's wrong with him, doctor?" _Doctor._ "Mainly senility, Mrs. Wilkins." _Old Lady._ "Lor' now! An' I dessay 'e wouldn't 'ave 'ad it if 'e'd 'ad yer soon enough!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."--_Hamlet._ (_Heard outside a Country Circus._) _Old Jarge._ "Wen ye sees wot comes from furrin parts, bless yer 'eart, ye just feels like a bit o' dirt!"] * * * * * "THE LAST STRAW."--For further particulars apply to the gleaners. * * * * * THE WEATHER AND THE CROPS.--_Note._ Always have your hair cut very short in the hottest weather. * * * * * GARDENING AMUSEMENT FOR COLWELL-HATCHNEY.--Spinning turnip tops. * * * * * ADVICE TO THE FARMER.--Keep your weather eye open. * * * * * [Illustration: "Did ye see the Lord Mayor when you was up to Lunnon?" "Aye, lad, I did." "De' 'e gang aboot wi' a chain?" "No; 'e gangs loose!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Hobbs_ (_who dislikes tobacco_). "I see you are at your idol again!" _Smoker._ "Yes; I'm burning it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DRY CALLING "Th' ole squire stop an' spoke to me this marnin'; an' Oi ast 'im 'ow Master Philip was gettin' on in Lunnon. 'Oh,' says 'e, ''e 's bin called to the Bar.' Oi dunno wot 'e meant, so Oi didn' say nothin'; but Oi says to meself, 'Ah,' Oi says, 'from what _Oi_ remember of 'im, 'e didn' want no _callin'_!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: ACCOMMODATING.--_Old Lady._ "Now then, what do you want?" _The Tramp._ "I ain't pertickler, lady. What 'av' yer got?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Vicar's Daughter._ "Papa was very shocked, Giles, to see you standing outside the 'Green Man' this morning, after church." _The Village Reprobate._ "Oi can 'sure ye, miss, it wus na fault o' moine that I wus standin' ootside!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I'm surprised to find that you keep a dog, Tomkins! Why, you can barely keep your wife! What on earth do you feed him on?" "Well, I gives 'im cat's-meat. And when I can't afford that, why, 'e 'as to 'ave wot _we_ 'ave."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. A._ "I've just been to see a poor soul who was almost dying of destitution." _Miss B._ "Did you take her anything?" _Mrs. A._ "Yes--a pound of mutton." _Miss B._ "That wasn't much, was it?" _Mrs. A._ (_indignantly_). "Quite enough to make her some _beef tea_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Tell your fortune, pretty gentleman?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Fond of music! Why, when I'm in town, I go to a music-hall every night!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SURE SIGN OF IMPROVEMENT.--_Village Doctor._ "Well Scroggins, I hope your wife is much better to-day, eh? How is her pulse, eh? And how's her temperature?" _Scroggins_ (_considering_). "Well, doctor, I don't know much about her pulses, but as for her temper"--(_feelingly_)--"she's got a plenty of _that_ to-day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE PITY O' IT!" "Well, Simpson, how do you like the hot weather?" "Can't stand it, sir! It's hawful! Ain't got no stomach for my victuals, sir!"] * * * * * AT A CATTLE MARKET AN AUTUMN REMINISCENCE SCENE--_A large open space near a cathedral town. Fat old farmers in white hats, and smart young farmers in Newmarket coats and neat riding boots; elderly shepherds in blue, grey, and white smocks. From time to time there is a stampede of bewildered bullocks, whose hind legs are continually getting hitched over each other's horns. Connoisseurs lean over pen-rails and examine pigs reverently, as if they were Old Masters. Others prod them perfunctorily. The pigs bear these inconveniences meekly, as part of the penalty of greatness. Sheep look over one another's shoulders and chew nervously on one side of their mouths._ BY THE PIG-PENS _First Enthusiast._ Did y' iver see sech a sow as that theer? _I_ niver did, and (_aggressively_) naw moor _yo'_ didn't neither, 'Enery, _did_ ye now? _'Enery_ (_unimpressed_). I doan't see naw 'dvantage in heving pigs so big as that theer. _First Enth._ Big! She's like a elephant. _Theer's_ a lop ear now--weighs thutty-four stoan if she weighs a hounce, she do! [_The sow grunts complacently._ _'Enery._ Ah. I 'ad one loike 'er, I 'ad. Eat three bucketsful a day, she did, and (_with a sense of unforgettable injury_) mis'able little pegs she 'ad with it all! _Second Enth._ I go in fur Berkshire myself, but Sussex are very good; they scale so much better 'n they look; _full_ o' flesh they are--weigh a good stun moor nor ye'd take 'em fur, and then they cut _up_ so well! (_With a dreamy tenderness._) Yes, I'm fond o' they Sussexes, I am--_very_ fond of 'em! * * * * * _A Dealer_ (_trying to dispose of a litter of small black pigs_). Seven good ole stiddy little pigs! I don't care '_oo_ buys 'em (_as if he usually required the strictest testimonials to character_). I _must_ sell 'em. Pig-buyin' to-day, sir? You'd _better_ 'ave that little lot, sir. [_Persuasively, to a passer-by, who however appears to think he had much better not._ BY THE SHEEP-PENS _Intending Purchaser_ (_to Seller_). What d'ye carl them yoes now? Southdowns? [_He fixes his eyes on the cathedral spire, and awaits the next move._ _Seller_ (_after watching a rook out of sight, stirs up the sheep meditatively, and decides on candour_). Well--bout aaff an' aaff. _Int. Purch._ Old yoes--well, ye know, 'taint like _young_ yoes, _be_ it now? _Seller_ (_when he has finished shredding tobacco in the palm of his hand_). That's true enough. _Int. Purch._ I dunno as I can do wi' any moor shep just now, if 'twas iver so. _Seller_ (_listlessly_). Cann't ye, now? Theer's bin a genl'man from Leicestershire 'ere, wawntin' me to run 'im off a dozen or so--fur his perrk, d'ye see? _Int. Purch._ (_with unaffected incredulity_). Ah. [_A protracted silence, employed by each in careful inspection of his boots._ _Seller_ (_addressing space_). They're a tidy lot o' yoes. _Int. Purch._ (_as if this was a new view of them, which would require consideration_). Come off o' your own farm? _Seller._ Druv 'em in myself this very marnin'. _Int. Purch._ Ah. (_A pause apparently spent in mental calculation._) What might ye be askin' for 'un now? _Seller._ For them yoes? _Int. Purch._ Ah. _Seller_ (_falls into a brown study, from which he at length emerges to tap the nearest ewe on the forehead and expectorate_). I wawnt five-an'-twenty shellin' a yead for them yoes. _Int. Purch._ Five-an'-twenty? _Seller._ Ah, that's what _I_ wawnt. [_A longer silence than ever._ _Int. Purch._ I s'pose ye aint seen ole Jim 'Arrows 'bout 'ere this marnin', hev ye? [_After some further preliminaries of this kind the moment at length arrives at which a bargain can be struck without any suggestion of unbecoming haste on either side._ * * * * * [Illustration: ANYTHING TO OBLIGE.--_Old Lady._ "I wish you would make him go faster. I shall be late for the market." _Carrier._ "Well, you see, mum, he always falls on his head if he trots down-hill. He _can't_ trot up-hill, for he's broken-winded, and if you hurry him on the level he mostly has a fit of blind staggers. But we'll try if you like, mum. Come up, hoss!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BYE-ELECTION HUMOURS _Free and Independent Voter._ "Wull, if they can't zend zummat better than thic ther cart to fetch I to the poll, I ain't a-goin' to vote. Zo there's an end of it; and you can go back an' tell 'um zo!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE NEW SQUIRE _Farmer._ "Well, Giles, what do you think of him?" _Giles._ "I reckon he's allers in at meal-times, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Curate._ "Oh--er--by the way, Mr. Bloggs, I was wondering whether you would give me a small subscription for a most excellent object: I mean the repairing of the cemetery wall." _Wealthy Parvenu._ "Not me, sir. The cemetery wall don't _need_ any repairing. Them as is inside can't get out, an' them as is outside don't want to get in. Good mornin'!"] * * * * * _First Rustic_ (_just out of the County Hospital_). An' they putt me under that theer chlorryfum--an' I simmed to go right oop into 'Evin--yes, I wur oop in 'Evin fur a toime, sure 'nough. _Second Rustic_ (_with interest_). An' did ye 'ear a pianner? * * * * * _Elderly Farmer_ (_who is being applied to for the character of his late shepherd_). No, I never 'ad no fault to find wi' the fellow--(_conscientiously_) not as I knows on. He unnerstan's shep--I will say _that_ fur 'en--he's a rare 'un at doctorin' of 'em, too. An' a stiddy chap an' that, keps a civil tongue in 'is yead, and don't go away on the booze. No, _I_ aint got nawthen' to say 'gainst th' man. _The Inquirer._ Would ye hev any objection to sayin' why ye're partin' wi' en? _Eld. F._ Well, I dunno as theer was any partickler _reason_ for 't. (_He endeavours to think of one in a puzzle-headed way._) I s'pose I must ha' thowt I'd make a bit of a shift like--and theer ye hev it. * * * * * _First Stock-breeder_ (_to Second_). Well, an' how's Muster Spuddock to-day? _Muster Spuddock._ Oh, 'mong th' middlins--'mong th' middlins. Pretty well fur an old 'un. _First Stockbr._ An' how's trade with _you_, eh? _Muster Sp._ (_beaming_). Oh, nawthen' doin'--nawthen' doin' 't all! _First Stockbr._ (_with equal cheerfulness_). Same _'ere_, sir--same 'ere. On'y thing that's got money has been th' dead meat. _Muster Sp._ (_without appearing to envy the dead meat on this account_). Ah, that's it. Ye cann't reckon on moor nor thrippence,--an' your own expenses, i' coorse. _First Stockbr._ An' _thet_'s borderin' nigh on fowerpence; an' when it comes to two pound a bullock----! [_They shake their heads with an unsuccessful attempt to look lugubrious at these cryptic considerations._ _Muster Sp._ Well, well; sheep food's goin' to be plentiful, too, right up to Christmas. _First Stockbr._ That's the way to look on it. [_They go off to dine at the ordinary, with a sense that matters might be worse._ * * * * * [Illustration: Jones, who can't sleep well in London during the hot weather, goes to have a quiet night in a village! [_Portrait of_ one _of the village Cochins, &c._] * * * * * [Illustration: EDUCATION.--_Squire._ "Hobson, they tell me you've taken your boy away from the National School. What's that for?" _Villager._ "'Cause the master ain't fit to teach un!" _Squire._ "O, I've heard he's a very good master." _Villager._ "Well, all I knows is, he wanted to teach my boy to spell 'taters' with a 'p'!!!]" * * * * * [Illustration: COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON.--_Farmer's Wife_ (_to little rustic, her protégè_). "Well, Sam, your master and I are going up to London for the cattle show." _Cow Boy._ "Oh, I'm sure I hope yeou'll take the fust prize, 'm--that I dew!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "IN THE LONG RUN."--_Town Gent._ "Now do you find keeping poultry answers?" _Country Gent_ (_lately retired_). "O, 'es, s'posed to answer. Y' see there's the original cost of the fowls--'f course the food goes down to me, y' know. Well, then, I purchase the eggs from the children, and they eat them!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "ONLY TWO FEET AT THE WINDOW" (_Old song adapted_) _Milkman_ (_aghast, anxiously_). "Hullo! Wot's that?" _Old Woman._ "Hish! Our lodger, just come. Open-air cure!"] * * * * * AGRICULTURAL.--The poorest farmer in the land, if unable to feed his calves, can always graze his shins. * * * * * AT THE CATTLE SHOW.--_Young Farmer._ "Are you fond of beasts, Miss Gusherton?" _Miss Gusherton._ "Oh, really, Mr. Pawker, if you mean that as a declaration, you must speak to mamma!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Rector._ "Why, doctor, where are you off to? I thought the meet was down at the cross roads." _Doctor._ "Well, the fact is, I've got a patient up here that I must see, and the hounds are certain to come this way." _Rector._ "I see. Killing two birds with one stone, eh?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Short-sighted Old Gentleman._ "Excuse me, but I think you've dropped one of your parcels!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "OPPOSITION."--_First Town Councillor (who had recently been to Venice)._ "Now that we've a people's park, and a lake in it, I should suggest that half a dozen gondolas might be purchased, as they'd give quite a----" _Second Ditto (untravelled)._ "Oh, I don't see the good of havin' any more o' them foreign birds! We've plenty of ducks an' geese already! 't any rate a pair would be enough to breed from. As to 'alf a dozen, I consider it'd be a waste o' public money, an' I'll oppose it tooth and----" [_They don't part friends._] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Squire._ "I don't seem to know your face, my man. Do you live about here?" _Old Rustic._ "Yes, sir. But, yer see, I ain't often at the public-'ouse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Doubtful Character._ "This yer's all 'umbug about a thief not bein' able to look a honest man in the heye." _Second Doubtful Character._ "Well, if 'e can't, 'e can _punch_ 'im in the heye!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LITTLE AND GOOD _Gentleman._ "Who do these pigs belong to, boy?" _'Chaw.'_ "Why, this 'ere owd zow." _Gentleman._ "Yes, yes; but I mean who's their master?" _'Chaw.'_ "Why, that there little 'un; he's a varmun to foight!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE POLITENESS (_Another incident at a Tenants' Ball_) _Daughter of the house (dishevelled and torn after one turn round the room with clumsy partner)._ "Do you mind very much, Mr. Quickstep, if we sit out the rest of it?" _Mr. Quickstep._ "Jest as you like, miss. I'm only a-dancin' for your pleasure!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Marjorie._ "And how is your son James getting on, Mr. Giles?" _Giles_ (_whose son has gone to London "in service"_). "Well, to tell ye the truth, Miss Marji, Oi'm very troubled about 'im. Oi 'ad a letter last week, an' 'e says that 'e's livin' in a buildin' with 'undreds of people in it, an' it's three or fowr 'ouses one on top o' t'other. 'E says there's a railway carriage without an ingin' that goes up the middle o' th' buildin', an' the lights is all in bottles, an' you turns 'em on with a tap without usin' a loocifer, an'----" _Miss Marjorie._ "But why are you troubled about James?" _Giles._ "Aye, Oi fear 'e must 'a took to drink, miss!"] * * * * * SYMPATHY.--_Giles_ (_ruefully_). "Villiam, I've been an' gone an' 'listed!" _William._ "Lor'! 'ave yer, though? Got the shillin'?" _Giles._ "Yes." _William._ "Well, then, let's go an' 'ave a glass at the 'Barley-Mow.' Don't let's be down'earted!" * * * * * [Illustration: QUITE A DIFFERENT THING.--_Vicar's Wife._ "Well, Mrs. Bloggs, I'm glad to hear your husband has given up drinking. I hope he's all the better for it?" _Mrs. Bloggs._ "Oh, yes, 'm, that he be. Why, ever since 'e took the pledge, he's been more like a friend than a husband!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE.--_A Country Drawing-Room._ _Visitor_ (_to old lady and daughters, one of whose hobbies is the keeping of a small herd of Jerseys_). "By the way, I didn't see you at our local agricultural show." _Daughter._ "Oh, no! We never go unless we exhibit ourselves."] * * * * * [Illustration: A SLIGHT MISTAKE.--_Farmer._ "Where 'ave ye been all this time? And where's the old mare--didn't ye have her shod as I told ye?" _Jarge._ "Shod! Law, no, marster. I bin a buryin' she! Didn't I think thee said '_shot_'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SIMPLE LIFE" _Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpudgit's Experiences of a Week-end Country Cottage._ _Mr. Fitzpudgit._ "What's the matter with the eggs, Matilda? I've tried them with a fork two or three times, and they're not soft yet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SIMPLE LIFE." _Mr. Fitzpudgit._ "Now don't faint again, my dear. I'll soon have this old rabbit in bits, now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SIMPLE LIFE" _Charwoman._ "If yer please, sir, th' landlord says as 'ow 'e can't do nothin', 'cos the thatcher's busy with the ricks."] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SIMPLE LIFE" _Mrs. Fitzpudgit._ "What is it, dear?" _Mr. F._ "Nothing, my love. Only another puncture."] * * * * * [Illustration: "APPRECIATIONS," LOCAL _Vicar's Wife._ "I see, Mrs. Fieldsend, that Mary is home again." _Mrs. Fieldsend._ "Yes, m'm. You see, she has been a year at Crowe Rectory, and eighteen months at Exholme Vicarage, and now we want her to go into a gentleman's family!"] * * * * * FAMILY JARS.--_Joan._ "The _idear_ of Susan's askin' John to William's funeral, after the way 'e'd beyaved! I shouldn't certainly ever _dream_ of askin' 'im to _yours_!" _Darby._ "_What!_ Then all _I_ can say is, I should be very much offended if you _didn't_!" * * * * * [Illustration: EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY] * * * * * LIVE STOCK.--_Little Miss Townley._ "Was that honey we had at breakfast 'home-made,' Mr. Stubbs?" _Farmer Stubbs._ "Why, surely, missy." _Little Miss T._ "Oh! Then I suppose you _keep a bee_?" * * * * * [Illustration: _Country Barber_ (_affably, to total stranger_). "Very tryin' weather this, sir. Makes you feel as if you'd like your body in a pond, an' your 'ead in a public-'ouse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Rector's Daughter._ "My father feels it very much, Mrs. Barker, that you should leave the church every Sunday just before the sermon. Don't you think you might try and stay, in future?" _Mrs. Barker._ "I dursn't do it, miss. _I do snore that dreadful when I'm asleep!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady_ (_calling on new Vicar's young wife_). "Have you seen the library at the Hall? Sir George is quite a bibliophile, you know." _Vicar's Wife_ (_warmly_). "Oh, I'm _so_ glad to hear that! So many of these wealthy men have _no_ religion!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady Visitor_ (_to old parishioner_). "Well, Mr. Huggins, and has the nurse been to see you yet?" _Old Parishioner._ "Yes, mum, thank 'ee. She's called once, an done my foot more good than all the imprecations I've ever used!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SLOCUM POGIS TOILET-CLUB "These 'ere barbers makes a rare lot o' fuss about it, but 'tain't nowt to sheep shearin'."] * * * * * [Illustration: DIET.--_Village Doctor._ "Well, are you better? Have you taken your medicine regularly, and eaten plenty of animal food?" _Patient._ "Yes, sir, I tried it, and so long as it were be-ans and o-ats, I could manage pooty well, sir; but when you come to that there chopped hay, that right-down choked me, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NEEDLESS ALARM _He._ "The fellah actually thweatened to blow my bwains out!" _She._ "Oh, how _could_ he? Of _course_ he wasn't serious."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FORCE OF HABIT.--_Our County Member_ (_attending church during the Recess_). "I beg to move, sir, that the question be now put!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR CHRISTMAS CONCERT.--_The Rector_ (_who conducts the Rehearsal_). "Suppose we try that movement again? I think, Mr. Footles, you were half a bar behind in taking up your point. Oh dear!--you're not going, Mr. Foo----" _Mr. Footles_ (_our Flauto Secondo, huffed_). "Yessir. 'F you're so pertic'lar's 'alf a bar, I sha'n't jine the s'ciety!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ARTFUL--VERY.--_Mary._ "Don't keep a screougin' o' me, John!" _John._ "Wh'oi bean't a screougin' on yer!" _Mary_ (_ingenuously_). "Well, y' can i' y' like, John!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Stranger._ "I suppose there's not much society about here?" _Barber._ "Society! Why there ain't two soup an' fish families within a radius o' fifteen mile!"] * * * * * HOW MINERS OUGHT TO SWEAR.--"I'll take my Davy." * * * * * THE HARVEST OF CRIME.--The convict reaps the reward of his iniquity in the county crop. * * * * * [Illustration: _Stranger._ "You must find it very lonely on these hills." _Shepherd._ "Lonely? No, I don't. Why, there was a man an a 'oss passed yesterday, an' there's you to-day."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Agricultural Parishioner_ (_wishing to ingratiate himself with the new curate, who had given a lecture on the previous evening_). "Thank ye, sir, for your reading to us last night." _New Curate._ "Glad you liked it, John. I was a little afraid lest the lecture might have been just a _little_ too scientific." _Agricultural Parishioner._ "No, bless you, sir, not a bit of it. Why, we in these parts be just like young ducks. _We do gobble up anything!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NONE BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE _FARE_."--_The Rector's Wife_ (_at school feast, to one of the boys, who had been doing very "good business"_). "What's the matter, Noggins? Don't you feel well?" _Noggins._ "No, m'm,--but--I'll hev--to be wuss, m'm--afore I give in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SUBSTITUTE.--_The Rector's Wife._ "Oh, Mrs. Noggins, I should really try to break your parrot of his habit of swearing in that awful way!" _The Widow Noggins._ "Well 'm, I finds it such a comfort to 'ear 'im. Makes it seem more like as if there was a man about the 'ouse again."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Village Dame_ (_to eminent landscape-painter_). "Law, sir, I do often wonder how you can 'ave the patience to bide here day arter day, drarin' an' drarin'! But, there, one thing, you 'aves plenty o' company!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HORTICULTURAL CUTTINGS (_Culled and Fetched from a Considerable Distance by Dumb Crambo Junior_) Coaly-us. Sinner-area. Pet-you-near. Ah,-but-ill-us! Peeler-go!-nyum! Haughty culture. Gee-rainy-(um!). Ran-uncle-us. Prim-you-la! A-rum lily.] * * * * * BOON COMPANIONS!--_Bargee_ (_to Rustic_). "What! Ge-arge!" (_Rustic grins in response._) _Bargee._ "I'm allus main glad to see thee, Ge-arge." _Rustic._ "Whoy?" _Bargee._ "'Cause I know there must be a public-'ouse close by!" * * * * * [Illustration: "LAUDATOR TEMPORIS ACT I" _Mrs. Ghoul._ "Ah, funerals isn't what they used to be in my time! I recollect when we 'ad 'am sangwishes and sherry wine; but now it's as much as you can git a bit o' cake and a cup o' tea. Ah!"] * * * * * CONTENTMENT.--_Giles._ "A happy New Year to you, marm, and I hope you'll be as lucky this year as I was last." _Lady._ "Oh, thank you very much, Giles; but you surely forget that you lost your wife in the spring and broke your leg in the summer." _Giles._ "Yes, but t'other leg's all right, and as for paw Soosan, it might have been I to be took instead." * * * * * [Illustration: _Vicar_ (_who has introduced "Gregorian" tones into his service_). "Well, Mr. Rogers, how did you like our music? Tradition says, you know, that those psalm tunes are the original ones composed by King David." _Flippant Parishioner._ "Really? Then I no longer wonder why Saul threw his javelin at him!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Vicar._ "I'm surprised at _you_, Miggs. Why, look at _me_. I can go into the town without coming back intoxicated." _Miggs._ "Yesh, zur, but _Oi_ be so popular!" (_Hic._)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Vicar's Daughter._ "Oh, Mr. Gufling, I've called this morning to tell you that for the parish charities we open our most interesting show of local antiquities and curiosities, and may I hope that _you_ will kindly give it your countenance?"] * * * * * POETRY OF NATURE.--When mist falls upon the earth, and freezes, it forms rime. * * * * * _Customer._ "You told me that 'oss 'ad won a dozen matches agin some o' th' best 'osses in the county. Why 'e can't trot a mile in ten minutes to save 'is life." _Dealer._ "I didn't say 'e could. You never asked me what sort o' matches. It was in ploughin' matches 'e took the prizes!" * * * * * [Illustration] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
33824	----	PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day MR. PUNCH'S AFTER-DINNER STORIES [Illustration] [Illustration: PROGRESS.--"I maintain that the race has improved in physique since those days. Now _we_ couldn't get into that armour!"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S AFTER-DINNER STORIES _WITH 155 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. H. TOWNSEND, REGINALD CLEAVER, LEWIS BAUMER, A. S. BOYD, TOM WILKINSON, G. D. ARMOUR, AND OTHERS [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * POST-PRANDIAL WIT [Illustration] There is a sense, of course, in which everything from the pages of MR. PUNCH might be regarded as coming into a collection entitled "After Dinner Stories." All good stories are really for telling after dinner. Somehow or other one seldom associates wit and humour with the breakfast table, although the celebrated breakfast parties of Rogers, the banker, were doubtless in no way deficient in either. Over the walnuts and wine, when men have feasted well and are feeling on the best of terms with themselves and their fellows, the cares of the day put past and the pleasures of the gas-lit hours begun, that is undoubtedly the ideal time for the flow of wit. It must not, therefore, be thought that the present volume is in anywise distinguished from the others of the series to which it belongs in the appropriateness of its contents for the dinner party. No more than any of its companions is it designed to that end; but as it is concerned almost exclusively with the humours of dining, with stories of diners, it will be admitted that its title is not without justification. Private dinner parties, public banquets, the solitary dinner at the restaurant, the giving and accepting of invitations, these and many other phases of dining come within its scope, and if it be noticed that a considerable amount of its humour has something of the fragrance of good old port--to say nothing of the aroma of wines that are bad!--it can only be retorted that MR. PUNCH'S duty has ever been to mirror the manners of the changing time, and in his early days the wine flowed more freely than it does to-day. For our personal taste we could have wished less of this humour of the bottle, but throughout this library an effort has been made to maintain in some degree a historical perspective, so that, in addition to the prime purpose of entertainment, each of these books in MR. PUNCH'S LIBRARY might be a faithful picture of the manners of the Victorian period in which most of his life has been passed. If to-day these manners seem to us just a trifle coarser than we esteem the social habits of our own day, surely that is a comforting reflection and one not lightly to be lost! [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S AFTER-DINNER STORIES [Illustration] _Mrs. Jones._ And pray, Mr. Jones, what is the matter now? _Jones._ I was only wondering, my dear, where you might have bought this fish. _Mrs. Jones._ At the fishmonger's. Where do you suppose I bought it? _Jones._ Well, I thought that, _perhaps_, there might have been a remnant sale at the Royal Aquarium! * * * * * EXCUSE FOR DRINKING BEFORE DINNER.--To whet the appetite. * * * * * [Illustration: _Voice from above._ "What are you doing down there, Parkins?" _Parkins._ "I'm jush--puttin' away the port, shir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Commissionaire._ "Would you like a four-wheeler or a 'ansom sir?" _Convivial Party_ (_indistinctly_). "Ver' mush oblige--but--reely don't think I _could_ take 'ny more!"] * * * * * RICE AND PRUNES Rice and prunes a household journal Called the chief of household boons; Hence my mother cooks diurnal Rice and prunes. Therefore on successive noons, Sombre fruit and snowy kernel Woo reluctant forks and spoons. As the ear, when leaves are vernal, Wearies of the blackbird's tunes, So we weary of eternal Rice and prunes. * * * * * NEVER SPEAK IN A HURRY THE HOSPITABLE JONES. Yes, we're in the same old place, where you dined with us last year. By the bye, old man, I wish you and your wife would come and take pot-luck with us again on the---- _The Impulsive Brown (in the eagerness of his determination never again to take pot-luck with the Joneses)._ My _dear_ fellow! _So_ sorry! But we're engaged on the--a--on the--er--on th-th-that evening! _Poor Jones (pathetically)._ Well, old man, you _might_ have given me time just to _name the day_. * * * * * [Illustration: "WHO PAYS THE PIPER CALLS THE TUNE" _Johnnie (to waiter)._ "Aw--you're the boss--head waiter, eh?" _Waiter._ "Yessir." _Johnnie._ "Ah, well, just--ah--send up to your _orchestra chaps_, and tell 'em I really can't eat my dinner to _that_ tune."] * * * * * [Illustration: A LAST RESOURCE.--A happy and independent bachelor finds himself suddenly disappointed of his Christmas party in the country; he has ordered nothing at home, has given his cook and man-servant leave to invite their friends; his intimate companions are out of town, and, on arriving at his club, he is informed by the hall porter that "there is no dinner to-night, as the servants are having a party." Only one resource, a hotel, or dinner at a restaurant, all alone!] * * * * * [Illustration: THE VERY LATEST DISCOVERY.--_Amateur Astronomical Student (returning home, after attending scientific bachelor dinner, where "the reported discovery of a new Satellite of Saturn" has been warmly discussed)._ "Where am I? Letsh shee--(_considering_)--Earth's got one moon. Mars's got five moo--Jup'tush nine--I shee two moons. Then--where _am_ I?"] * * * * * [Illustration: EFFECT OF GOOD CHEER ON OPPOSITE TEMPERAMENTS Aspect of Jones and Smith at two different stages of the same sumptuous repast.] * * * * * AT THE CELESTIAL RESTAURANT _Customer (indignantly)._ Hi! waiter, what do you call this soup? _Waiter (meekly)._ I not know, sir, but ze padrone tell me to describe 'im cocks-tail! * * * * * "THE COMING MAN."--A waiter. * * * * * [Illustration: SO VERY CONSCIENTIOUS!--_Master of the House._ "Why, Jenkins, what on earth is the matter with you? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" _Butler (with great deliberation)_, "Well, shir--if you pleashe, shir--itsh not quite _my_ fault. You told me to taste every bottle of wine before dinner, in cashe one should be corked. I've only carried out in-shtrucshuns."] * * * * * THE VERB TO DINE PRESENT TENSE I dine. Thou joinest me. He tries to whip us up for a division. We smoke our cigars. Ye drink your port. They are defeated in the lobby. IMPERFECT TENSE I was dining. Thou wast holding a reception. He was attending it. We were feeling puzzled. Ye were reading the _Globe_ and _Pall Mall_. They were not knowing what to make of it. FUTURE TENSE I shall dine. Thou wilt join my party. He will squirm. We shall promote the unity of the party. Ye will applaud. They will call a meeting at the "Reform." PERFECT TENSE I have dined. Thou hast made ambiguous remarks. He has explained them away. We have tried to make it all sweet again. Ye have split a soda. They have split the party. SUBJUNCTIVE PRESENT I may dine. Thou mayest object. He may want to state his views. We may insist on our dinners. Ye may agree with them. They may disagree with you. SUBJUNCTIVE IMPERFECT I might dine. Thou mightest emerge from Berkeley Square. He might resign. We might lead. Ye might follow. They might not. IMPERATIVE Dine thou! Let him speak out! Let us know who is our leader! Read ye the _Times_ and _Globe_! Let them settle the question for us! INFINITIVE Present: To split. Past: To have been a party. * * * * * AFTER-DINNER CONSIDERATION.--"Hippopotamuses" is a better test-word of fitness for joining the ladies than "British Constitution." * * * * * [Illustration: DISCUSSING AN ABSENT FRIEND "Yes, Robinson's a clever feller, and he's a modest feller, and he's a honest feller; but, betwixt you and I and the _post_, Mr. Jones," said Brown, confidentially, picking his wisdom tooth with his little finger nail, "Robinson ain't got neither the looks, nor yet the language, nor yet the manners of a _gentleman_!" "Right you are, sir!" said Jones, shovelling the melted remains of his ice pudding into his mouth with a steel knife (which he afterwards wiped on the tablecloth). "_You've 'it 'im orf to a T!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Convivial._ "'Sh two o'clock! Wha'll er misshus shay?" _Second Convivial._ "Thash allri'! Shay you bin wi' me--(_hic_)!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "IN CONFIDENCE" _Dining-room, Apelles Club_ _Diner._ "Thomson, do the members ask for this wine?" _Head Waiter (sotto voce)._ "Not twice, sir!"] * * * * * SPECIMENS OF MR. PUNCH'S SIGNATURES! (_Fac-similes taken during the course of the evening._) [Illustration: Punch] THIS IS BEFORE DINNER, 7·30. ATTESTED BY SEVERAL WITNESSES. [Illustration: Punch] THIS IS AFTER THE PUNCH À LA ROMAINE, ABOUT THE MIDDLE OF THE BANQUET. [Illustration: Punch] THIS IS WITH THE DESSERT. [Illustration: Punch] AFTER THE CLARET. [Illustration: Punch] AFTER THE CLARET _AND_ THE PORT. [Illustration: Punch] DURING THE CIGARS, WHISKEY AND WATER. [Illustration: Punch] 12·30. BEFORE LEAVING TABLE. [Illustration: Punch] 1·30. BEFORE GETTING INTO BED. The above have been submitted to an eminent expert, who says he could almost swear they are the same hand-writing, but must come and dine with _Mr. P._, in order absolutely to verify them. * * * * * [Illustration: A BAD ENDING.--"Well, William, what's become of Robert?" "What, 'aven't you 'eard, sir?" "No! Not _defunct_, I hope!" "That's just exactly what he _'as_ done, sir, and walked off with heverything he could lay his 'ands on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE _Vegetarian Professor._ "No, madam, not even fish. I cannot sanction the destruction of life. These little creatures, for instance, were but yesterday swimming happily in the sea." _Mrs. O'Laughlan._ "Oh but, Professor, just think it's the first time the poor little things have ever been really warm in their lives!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FELICITOUS QUOTATION "Oh, Robert, the grouse has been kept too long! I wonder you can eat it!" "My dear, 'we needs must love the highest when we see it.'" (_Guinevere._)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Boreham_ (_relating his Alpine adventures_). "There I stood, the terrible abyss yawning at my feet----" _That Brute Brown._ "Was it yawning when you got there, or did it start after you arrived?"] * * * * * [Illustration: At a dinner given by my Lord Broadacres to some of his tenants, curaçoa is handed in a liqueur-glass to old Turnitops, who, swallowing it with much relish, says--"Oi zay, young man! Oi'll tak zum o' that in a moog!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRICE FOR AGE _Mr. Green._ "You needn't be afraid of that glass of wine, uncle. It's thirty-four port, you know." _Uncle._ "Thirty-four port!--Thirty-four fiddlesticks! It's no more thirty-four port than you are!" _Mr. Green._ "It _is_ I can assure you! Indeed, it's _really thirty-six_; and _thirty-four if you return the bottles_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FLUNKEIANA _Master._ "Thompson, I believe that I have repeatedly expressed an objection to being served with stale bread at dinner. How is it my wishes have not been attended to?" _Thompson._ "Well, sir, I reely don't know what is to be done! It won't do to waste it, and we _can't_ eat it downstairs!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONCLUSIVE SCENE--_Hibernian Table d'hôte_ _Guest._ "Waiter! I say--this is pork! I want mutton!" _Waiter_ (_rather bustled_). "Yes, sorr, it's mutton ye _want_--but it's pork ye'll _have_!"] * * * * * RAMBLING RONDEAUX _At Table d'hôte_ At _table d'hôte_, I quite decline To sit there and attempt to dine! Of course you never dine, but "feed," And gobble up with fearsome greed A hurried meal you can't define. The room is close, and, I opine, I should not like the food or wine; While all the guests are dull indeed At _table d'hôte_! The clatter and the heat combine One's appetite to undermine. When noisy waiters take no heed, But change the plates at railway speed-- I feel compelled to "draw my line" At _table d'hôte_! * * * * * SUFFICIENT EXCUSE _Jones_ (_to Brown_). I say, old fellow, I saw you last night, after that dinner. Your legs were uncommonly unsteady. _Brown._ No, dear boy; legs were right enough. It was my trousers that were so "tight." * * * * * [Illustration: CRUEL!--_Lucullus Brown_ (_on hospitable purpose intent_). "Are you dining anywhere to-morrow night?" _Jones_ (_not liking to absolutely "give himself away"_). "Let me see"--(_considers_)--"No; I'm not dining anywhere to-morrow." _Lucullus Brown_ (_seeing through the artifice_). "Um! Poor chap! How hungry you will be!" ["_Exeunt,--severally._"] * * * * * [Illustration: CANDID! _Simultaneously_ _Host (smacking his lips)._ "Now, what do you say to that glass of she----" _Guest._ "My dear fellow, where did you get this abominable Marsala?"] * * * * * GUESTS TO BE AVOIDED "Hullo, old man! How is it you're dining at the club? Thought your wife told me she had the Browns and Smiths to dinner this evening?" "No--that was yesterday. This evening she has the odds and ends." * * * * * SECTARIAN "Hullo, John! What a jolly dish! Potatoes, greens, carrots, beans! Who's it for?" "Mr. Binks, sir." "Is Mr. Binks a _vegetarian_?" "Oh no, sir! I believe he's Church of England!" * * * * * [Illustration: "TO PUT IT BROADLY" _Improvised Butler_ (_to distinguished guest_). "Will ye take anny more drink, sor?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Customer._ "Waiter, a fried sole." _Second Customer._ "Bring me a fried sole, too, waiter--and mind it is fresh." _Waiter._ "Two fried soles--one fresh!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER MANY YEARS!--_Country Parson_ (_to distinguished Peer, who has been making_ THE _speech of the evening_). "How d'ye do, my lord? I see you don't quite remember me." _Distinguished Peer._ "Well--er--not altogether." _C. P._ "We were members of the same club at Oxford." _D. P._ (_with awakening interest_). "Oh--ah! Let me see--which club was that?" _C. P._ "The--er--_Toilet Club_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _She._ "We expected you to dinner last night, Herr Professor. We waited half an hour for you. I hope it was not _illness_ that prevented you from coming?" _He._ "Ach, no! I vas not hongry!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DILEMMA _Nervous Gentleman_ (_to two sisters_). "I've got to take one of you in to dinner. A--a--let me see--a--which is the elder?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _Jones_ (_to hostess, famous for her dinners_). "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Hodgkinson, if you should happen to want a really good cook, I know of one who would suit you to a T!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER _Laconic Waiter_ (_thoroughly familiar with sporting Major's taste in champagne_). "Seventy-four, sir?" _Sporting Major_ (_down on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket_). "Seven-to-four, sir! Dash it! wouldn't take ten to one about anything!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUSE AND _Host_ (_to coachman, who is turned on as butler on grand occasions_). "I want you to see that all my guests enjoy themselves, Coggledab. Don't let them have to ask for anything. Be particularly attentive to my dear aunt, Mrs. Dumbledock!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EFFECT _Coggledab_ (_in a stage-whisper, during a lull in the conversation, to Mrs. Dumbledock, who has recently joined the Blue Ribbon Army._) "'Ollands, whiskey, or cog-nack, mum? You can't be enjy-in' of yourself. _You're not drinkin'!_" [_Mrs. Dumbledock alters her will the next day_] * * * * * A LITTLE DINNER OF THE FUTURE _A Forecast by Mr. Punch's Own Clairvoyant_ According to the _Daily Chronicle_, "an American professor is looking forward to the time when cooking and dining shall become lost arts, and we shall take our sustenance in the form of tablets of concentrated things." Our esteemed contemporary appears to think that such a system would necessarily do away with all conviviality and social intercourse; but, unless MR. PUNCH'S clairvoyant is liable to error (which is absurd), we need not take quite so gloomy a view of the future. People will still entertain, only the dinner of the next century will be a more economical and less tedious function, and, instead of having to go through a trying interview with her cook, the coming hostess will merely look in at the nearest food chemist's, when some such conversation as the following will settle the whole business. _Hostess._ We've some people coming in to take a few tablets with us this evening; what do you think I'd better have? _The Food Chemist._ You will require _soup_, of course, madam. I could send you one of these patent soup-sprinklers, exceedingly simple to work, and quite the fashion in the highest circles: the butler sprays each guest before showing them upstairs. We supply the machine, charged with the very best soup, at ninepence a night. _Hostess._ No, I don't want anything _fussy_, it's quite an informal little gathering. An ounce of those mock-turtle jujubes at fourpence I had last time will do very well. _The F. C._ Very good, madam. Then, with regard to fish? I can strongly recommend these bi-carbonate of cod and oyster sauce lozenges, or I have some sulphate of salmon and cucumber pastilles, that I think you would like, ninepence the quarter-of-a-pound. _Hostess._ I'm afraid I mustn't be extravagant. I'll take a small bottle of condensed smelt tabloids (the _sixpenny_ size), and what are left will come in nicely for the children's dinner next day. _The F. C._ Precisely so, madam. And as to _entrées_--will you have cockscomb cachous or sweetbread pilules? _Hostess._ It makes such a _long_ dinner. I don't want a lot of things. _The F. C._ In _that_ case, madam, I think I have the very article--a most elegant electro-chemical preparation, combining _entrée_, joint, and bird, with just a trace of vegetable matter, put up in small capsules, at one and elevenpence halfpenny the box of one dozen. _Hostess._ That would be cheaper than having each course in separate tablets, _wouldn't_ it? I think I'll try a box. What wonderful improvements they bring out nowadays, to be sure! _The F. C._ They do indeed, madam. I am told that the Concentrated Food Stores will shortly be able to place on the market a series of graduated wafers, each containing a complete dinner, from a City banquet to a cutlet, at prices to correspond with the number of courses required. _Hostess._ Delightful! And then the most expensive dinners will be all over in a minute, instead of dragging on to ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, as I've known them to do sometimes! I've often thought what a pity it is that we waste so much precious time as we do in merely supplying our bodily wants. _The F. C._ We are improving, madam, slowly improving. And what about sweets, cheese, and savouries? _Hostess._ I might have one of those two-inch blocks of condensed apple-tart, and a box of cheese pills--_no_ savouries. You see, it's only a _family_ party! _The F. C._ Exactly so, madam. And shall you be needing anything in the way of stimulants? _Hostess._ Let me see--you may send me in a couple of ounces of acidulated champagne drops--the _Australian_ quality, _not_ the French, they're twopence an ounce dearer, and so few people notice the difference nowadays, do they? _The F. C._ (_to himself_). Not until the next morning! (_Aloud._) And liqueurs? Any brandy-balls with the coffee creams? We have some very fine essence-of-dessert jellies----. _Hostess_ Nothing more, thank you. (_To herself as she departs._) I'm sure I've spent quite enough as it is on John's stingy old relations, who never ask us to have so much as a lunch-lozenge or a tea-tabloid with them! * * * * * _Lady of uncertain age_ (_discussing dinner party_). No, I cannot say it was very complimentary; they gave me to an archæologist to take down. * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Jones._ "Yes, my boy, _there's_ wine for you, eh? I bought ten pounds worth of it the other day." _Brown._ "What a _lot_ you must have got!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BIG ORDER _Stout Party_ (_to waitress_), "Put me on a pancake, please!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT A LITERARY AND ARTISTIC BANQUET.--_Waiter_ (_to colleague_). "Well, they may 'ave the intellec', Fred, but we certainly 'as the good looks!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Why not a phonographic after-dinner speech machine? Celebrities could be represented at any number of banquets. ["An experiment in dinner speeches by telephone is to be tried at Massachusetts Institute."]] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED OTHERWISE _Would-be Considerate Hostess (to son of the house)._ "How inattentive you are, John! You really must look after Mr. Brown. _He's helping himself to everything!_" [_Discomfiture of Brown, who, if somewhat shy, is conscious of a very healthy appetite._]] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD(N'T) RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--(_In Mrs. Talbot de Vere Skynflynte's drawing-room, after one of her grand dinner-parties where nobody gets enough to eat._) _General Guzzleton._ "What's that? Tea? No, thanks. I never take tea unless I've dined!"] * * * * * PROVERBS FOR BALL AND DINNER GIVERS Ices and tea and coffee and small cakes are as good as a feast. You may bring an amateur tenor up to a piano, but you cannot make him sing. A lord in the room is worth two dukes in the bush. In provincial society the lord-lieutenant is king. Flirtation is the mother of invention. All good dances lead to the conservatory. Take care of the rounds, and the squares will look after themselves. It is a wise waltzer who knows her own step. A dinner in time saves nine. When the confectioner comes in by the door the cook flies out by the window. What is port to your wine merchant is death to your guests. Keep your champagne dry. Call a stable-boy by any other name, and he will resemble the rose under similar circumstances. You can't make a head butler out of a local greengrocer. When the soup is cold, the wit flies out. If you have enough cheap and nasty dishes, some of them must be eaten. The _menu_ makes the dinner. Ask _Mr. Punch_ to a really good and well thought-out meal, and you will have an exceptionally lucky man for your guest. * * * * * THE SIGH OF THE SEASON Good-bye dinner, good-bye lunch, Good-bye turtle, good-bye punch, Good-bye jambon soaked in cham., Good-bye venison, cutlets lamb, Good-bye salmon, smelts, and sole, Good-bye Heidsieck's monopole, Good-bye hock, sauterne, and sherry, Good-bye all that makes me merry, Good-bye liqueurs, _petit verre_, Good-bye sauce _au Vin Madère_, Good-bye all these joys of life, Good-bye fork, and good-bye knife, Good-bye all I take when out, Good-bye _then_ this twinge of gout! * * * * * [Illustration: _Our Gallant Colonel._ "Your daughters, my dear Mrs. Tympanum, are looking delightful to-night--simply delightful!" _Mrs. Tympanum (rather hard of hearing, and very intent on a rôti of ducklings)._ "Yes, aren't they! I've had them stuffed with sage and onions!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CRUEL!--_Smith (usually a shy, reserved, and silent man) tells a rather long, but otherwise entertaining, story, about an orange, which meets with great success. Brown (when the laughter and applause have subsided)._ "Bravo, Smith! Capital, old man! But, I say, you told it better one night at Jones's, a few months ago!" _Jones._ "No, no! Where he told it best was that morning we breakfasted with you, Brown, somewhere about the beginning of the year before last!" _Robinson._ "Ah, but don't you recollect the way he told it after that supper I gave you fellows at Evans' in 'fifty-one'? How we _did_ laugh, to be sure!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHOSE FAULT?--_Wife (reproachfully)._ "O, Charles!" (_She had returned to the dining-room, wondering why he had not come upstairs to tea.) Charles (who had evidently taken a little too much wine)._ "V'y well, my dear! 'Sh not my fault! 'Sh your fault! Cooksh fault! 'Bisque soup was salt! Sh'preme d'la V'laille was smoked! And orange frittersh 'tough as leather! What did Capt'n du Cane shay? Bad cookery cause of all sorts o' crimes. 'Shamed of yourshelf!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "For when our veins are filled With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts."--SHAKSPEARE: _Coriolanus_. AFTER-DINNER CRITICISM.--_Guest (who has had a pleasant evening, will just have a look at his host's pictures before he goes)._ "Yesh--(_hic_)--'like tha' pictsh're! Fi' lanshc'pe! 'Like the treesh! 'Branshes wave 'bout s' nash'rally!!!"] * * * * * DINNER PLATITUDES Twice of soup is vulgar, but three times of soup implies that you must be more than double-plated with vulgarity. Such a thing was never known, not even at the Trinity Board, and turtle is not the slightest excuse for your pushing things to such a vulgar length. An alderman would really blush for you. A soft answer turneth away wrath, and an invitation to take a glass of wine will frequently restore warmth between two friends where only coldness existed before. No matter how plain your cook may be, so long as your dinner is well-dressed. A few compliments go a great way. A little savoury _pâté_ is quite enough. Try too many, and you'll find they'll prove heavy. When the ladies retire from the dinner-table, it is not usual for you (supposing you to be a gentleman) to retire with them. In this instance, the same law extends to the mistress as to the servants:--"No Followers Allowed." A gratuity well bestowed frequently has a happy effect. The servant that is fee'd well takes care that his master does the same. In the hands of an inferior _artiste_, whether an omelette turns out good or bad, is quite a matter of toss up. It is the same with a pancake. Keep ill-natured people from your table, as you would sour fruit. They are sure to disagree with every one. Avoid crab-apples, lest the apple of discord should turn up amongst them. * * * * * ODE TO A DINNER-GONG "The tocsin of the soul--the dinner-bell." So said, admiringly, the late Lord Byron, But he had never heard _your_ noisy knell, O blatant bellowing thing of brass or iron, Or surely he had metrically cursed Your nerve-distracting Corybantic clangour. Would his fine indignation could have versed My utter hate, my agonising anger. Alas! is gusto then so great a sin, Is feeding man so terrible a sinner That such a worse than _Duncan_-raising din Must summon him to--dinner? * * * * * [Illustration: DOWN A PEG.--_Mr. Gifted Hopkins (minor poet, essayist, critic, golfer, fin-de-siècle idol, &c.)._ "Oh, Mrs. Smart--a--I've been thinking, for the last twenty minutes, of something to say to you!" _Mrs. Smart (cheerfully)._ "Please go on thinking, Mr. Hopkins,--and I'll go on talking to Professor Brayne in the meantime."] * * * * * [Illustration: PAST AND PRESENT.--_Serious and much-married man._ "My dear friend, I _was_ astonished to hear of _your_ dining at Madame Troisétoiles!--a 'woman with a past' you know!" _The Friend_ (_bachelor "unattached"_). "Well, you see, old man, she got a first-rate _chef_, so it isn't her 'past,' but her 're-past' that _I_ care about."] * * * * * [Illustration: A CONNOISSEUR.--_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "This bottle of Romanée-conti seems rather cloudy, Brown! It _ought_ to be all right. I know it stands me in _twelve guineas a dozen_!" _The New Butler._ "There certainly _his_ some sediment, Sir Pompey; but it's of no consequence whatever! I tried a bottle of it _myself_ the other day, and found it first-rate!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PIOUS FRAUD! "Hullo, Monty, what have you got in your button-hole? You don't mean to say you've joined the blue ribbon army?" "Yes; for this night only. Going to dine with Jakes. Don't want to hurt poor old Jakes' feelings--don't want to be poisoned by his beastly wine. See?"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE DAYS OF THE CRINOLINE--DINING UNDER DIFFICULTIES] * * * * * [Illustration: REPLETION.--_Robert._ "Pudding or cheese, sir?" _Abstracted Editor._ "Owing to pressure of other matter, 'regret we are unable to find room for it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown_ (_who has been dining at the club with Jones_). "Just come in a minute, old fellow, and have a night-cap." _Jones._ "I'm afraid it's getting a little late. Let's see how's the enemy." _Brown._ "Oh! that's all right. _She's_ in bed."] * * * * * [Illustration: INNOCENTS IN THE CITY _Mrs. Fitznoodle_ (_evidently not well versed in the delicacies of a Guildhall feast_). "Freddy, dear, can you tell me what _is_ the difference between 'calipash' and 'calipee'?" _Colonel Fitznoodle_ (_hesitating, and looking round for an answer_). "Certainly, my dear. Exactly the difference there is between 'Gog' and 'Magog'!"] * * * * * DINNERS AND DINERS (_With apologies to the P-ll M-ll G-z-tte_) It had been my good fortune to give to Mademoiselle Faustine, a charming little actress, a tip for the Welter Plate last spring. What more natural than that I should ask her to give me a dinner as some slight return? She readily accepted, and asked me to name the day. Glancing at the sixth volume of my engagement book, I found my first vacant date was June 18, '97. This was fortunate, as it is hardly possible--except at Voisin's--to get a decent dinner unless you order it a year in advance. "Where shall we dine?" asked Faustine. "There is only one place where people _do_ dine," I answered, a little reproachfully. "The Bon Marché. I will order the dinner." So the place and the date were fixed. * * * * * As Faustine was a quarter of an hour late--I had not seen her since our arrangement--I waited in the alabaster portico of the Bon Marché, chatting amiably to the courteous commissionaire, an old comrade of mine in the Wimbledon days. Jules, the courteous _chef_, was _au désespoir_. Why had I not given him more notice? Madame was fifteen minutes late. If he had only known! In a year and fifteen minutes it is possible to cook a dinner. In a year--no. I tried to calm the worthy fellow--an old ally of mine in the Crimean war. In vain; he complained the sardines were spoiling. So I went into the dining-room, nodding courteously to eight princes of the blood, neither of whom appeared, for the moment, to recognise me. As I seated myself, the entire staff, headed by a brass band, brought me my _sardines à l'huile_. These are a _specialité_ of the house, and are never--should never be, at least--eaten with the tin. The _potage à la potasse_ was quite excellent. I congratulated the courteous _chef_, pointing out to him the desirability of mixing, sometimes, a little anti-pyrine into the potassium--both drugs far too rarely used in modern cookery. Then came the question of wine. This I solved for the moment by ordering two Jeroboams of Stereoscopic Company et Fils; a _cuvée_ of '80, absolutely _reservée_ for my own use. As I had engaged the entire staff of waiters, a crown prince, who was entertaining one of our leading bicyclists, rose to leave, with his guest. I smiled and nodded to them as they passed, which appeared to hasten their departure. The _moulin à vent_ was delicious, but the _dindon décousu_ I could not pass. No self-respecting _gourmet_ will pass everything at a dinner. Gontran, the kindly _maître d'hôtel_, was almost in tears, but I consoled him by observing that the ostriches were cooked to a turn, and the _bombe glacée à l'anarchiste_ faultless. But my hostess? Where was she? Where was Mademoiselle Faustine? I had quite forgotten her! I beckoned to Hagenbock, the press representative of the restaurant, who informed me she had been dead eight months! I, who read nothing but menus, had omitted to notice this in the papers. I was greatly pained. The shock unnerved me--I could eat no more. Besides, who was now to pay the bill? I reproduce the bill. Couverts, £5. Diners, £36 8_s._ Pain, 2_s._ Champagne, £47. Liqueurs, 15_s._ Addition, 3_s._ In all, £89 8_s._--(This is one of the few restaurants where a charge is made for the addition.) "Make out the bill," said I, "in francs, and send it to the executors of Mademoiselle Faustine." II. Monsieur Victor de Train-de-Luxe is in many respects a delightful person. In other ways he is not. For instance, because he was, accidentally, the cause of my backing a winner at Ascot (simply by means of ordinary stable information), he had the bad taste to suggest that I should stand him a dinner. I said, "Certainly, my dear Comte" (Comte being the courtesy title I invariably give to foreigners from whom I have the hope of borrowing money). "Where shall it be?" "There is only one place where one _can_ dine," I said. "Of course--the Bon Marché," he replied. "No," I answered. "No, _mon ami_. If you wish to eat a really characteristic English dinner, come to the Vegetarian Restaurant in Edgware Road. Come along. Come, _now_!" "But it's only six o'clock. I am not hungry." "All the better," I replied. And I also pointed out to him that the best way to see London is outside an omnibus. So we started. * * * * * Arrived at the restaurant, I was enthusiastically received by the courteous cashier, who presented me with a previous bill, which, I noticed, had not been receipted. I said I thought it rather rude to present a gentleman with a bill which they hadn't taken the trouble to receipt. We sat down. "I'm glad," I said to Victor, "that I didn't know this dinner was coming off to-day. If I had had notice, I might have ordered it beforehand; and a dinner, to be perfection, should be eaten, if possible, on the day it is cooked. At least, that's what I always think. I may be wrong." Monsieur de Train-de-Luxe smiled, said I was a _farceur_, and I ordered our dinner. First, some turnip turtle soup, then, ortolans of spinach and mashed potatoes, followed by a canvas-backed duck made of Indian corn, and last, not least, plum-pudding. As all will agree, this makes a very delicious and seasonable repast. Long dinners have quite gone out of fashion. And this was washed down with a sparkling bottle of orange champagne, '97. My friend Victor, who is rather a _gourmet_, was so struck with the first mouthful of soup, that he said it was quite enough, observing, he had never tasted anything like it. Pleased with this praise, I asked his opinion of the ortolans. He said that their aroma dispensed with the necessity for their consumption. He was evidently surprised. When the bill was presented by the courteous "chucker-out," we found that most unluckily neither of us had any money. I append the bill. Dinners (for two), 1_s._ 9_d._ Champagne, 3_d._ Total, 2_s._ To this I ought really to add:-- Cab (for three) to Marylebone Police Court, 1_s_. 6_d_. (The constable refused to walk without us.) Loss to reputation by report of proceedings, 8_d_. * * * * * THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE _Professor Guzzleton_ (_to Fair Chatterbox_). Are you aware that our host has a French cook? _Fair Chatterbox._ So I hear! _Professor Guzzleton._ And that that French cook is the best in London? _Fair Chatterbox._ So I believe! _Professor Guzzleton._ Then don't you think we had better defer all further conversation till we meet again in the drawing-room? * * * * * "My uncle, the admiral," said Mrs. Ramsbotham, "is very old fashioned, and always goes to sleep every day after dinner with his banana on his head." * * * * * [Illustration: SYMPATHETIC _Toast-master_ (_to chairman of public dinner_). "Would you like to propose your toast now, my lord, or should we let 'em enjoy themselves a bit longer?"] * * * * * [Illustration: INFELICITOUS MISQUOTATIONS.--_Hostess._ "You've eaten hardly anything, Mr. Simpkins!" _Mr. S._ "My dear lady, I've dined '_wisely, but not too well_!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIUMPHS OF THE FUNNY MAN _Hired Waiter_ (_handing the liqueurs_). "_Please_, sir, _don't_ make me laugh--I shall spill 'em all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD AT A CITY RESTAURANT "I said Welsh _radish_, not _horse rabbit_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IRRESISTIBLE _Our Robert_ (_on duty in the provinces, offering dish to neglected spinster_). "Little duck!" [_In such a tone of voice, that, at the risk of the sage and----she accepts!_] * * * * * [Illustration: _Host._ "I say, my boy, shall we join ladies in drawing-room?" _Guest._ "I sh'inksho." _Host._ "Can you say, 'The scenery's truly rural 'bout here?'" _Guest._ "Sc-scenery tooralooral." _Host._ "All right, come along!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HE KNEW THE CUISINE.--_Hungry Diner_ (_scanning the menu_). "Look here, waiter, I'm starving. I think I'll have a little of everything!" _Waiter._ "Yessir. (_Bawls off._) 'Ash one!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES "When the wine is in, the wit is out;" Only to dolts the adage reaches. No wise man could for a moment doubt The value of after-dinner speeches. _Punch_ can remember the time when Peel, Whose wisdom still the country teaches, After steak and port, his nine o'clock meal, Made the best of after-dinner speeches. When the Ministers come to the Mansion House, (The King of London their presence beseeches,) No guest who has any touch of _nous_ Will be weary of after-dinner speeches. When the Royal Academy blooms in May, With its pretty girls and their cheeks like peaches Who won't, on the opening Saturday, Listen to after-dinner speeches? When there's ought that's generous to be done, A greeting to pay that no soul impeaches, A dinner's the best thing under the sun, And its gold coin the after-dinner speeches. And as to the House, which often suffers From talk that to dreariest platitude reaches, It does not often allow its duffers To make long after-dinner speeches. * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--CHOP-HOUSE _Enter Street Boy, and, with suppressed ecstasy._ "Oh, please, there's your cat and kittens having such a game with the things in the winder!"] * * * * * AT THE CRIC-CRAC RESTAURANT _Customer_ (_looking at bill_). Here, waiter, there's surely some mistake in this total. _Waiter_ (_politely_). Zehn thousand pardons, sir! Mit my usual carelessness I have added in ze date and vorgot to charge you for ze butter. * * * * * AN OVERSIGHT! _Swell._ Waiter! This--ah--chop's vewy dwy! _Waiter._ 'Ndeed, sir? Perhaps if you were to order something to drink with it, sir---- * * * * * [Illustration: A REBUKE _Host._ "Fish is very expensive, just now, I can tell you. This salmon cost me two and sixpence a pound!" _Guest_ (_no business of his_). "Ah, it's very good, I think I'll take another eighteen penn'orth!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTION _The Major._ "Don't you like liqueurs, Mrs. Jinks?" _Mrs. Jinks._ "Yes; but they make one so _unreserved_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BORN ORATOR (IN THE EAST) _Farmer_ (_proposing landlord's health_). "An' if a' squiears 'ud _dew_ as our squiear _dew_, there wudna be so many on 'em as _dew_ as they _dew dew_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NO EXCUSE FOR NOT BELIEVING.--"Then you don't believe in phrenology?" "No, rather not. I once gave one of those fellows a sovereign to read my head, and, after feeling it a long time, all he said was, that I had no idea of the value of money."] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE PUT DIFFERENTLY.--_Mr. Bumblepup._ "I must apologise for coming in ordinary evening dress." _Hostess._ "Well, you really have the advantage of us. We're all looking more foolish than usual, and you're not."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Boreham_ (_in the thick of a long and pointless story_). "Well, as I was saying, I happened to be in the City the other day, and, as I was walking down Cheapside, whom should I meet but my old friend, Stodgeley, whom I haven't seen for fifteen years. Well, what do you think he did? He stopped dead when he saw me, slapped me on the shoulder, and said, 'Surely this must be my dear old friend, Boreham?'" _She_ (_with difficulty keeping awake_). "Yes?--_and was it_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Hostess_ (_to friend who has been brought in to take pot-luck_). "I'm afraid, Mr. Simpson, we've only got a very poor dinner to offer you." _Mr. Simpson._ "My dear Mrs. Jones, I beg you not to apologise! I assure you I think it quite desirable to _underfeed_ occasionally!"] * * * * * THE DINNER CHAIRMAN'S VADE MECUM (_Compiled for the use of Orators during the Month of May Mouthings_) _Question._ You are accustomed to take the chair at a public dinner? _Answer._ Yes. Or, to speak by the card, a dinner for the rest of the company. _Q._ Why, do you not partake of the good cheer before you with the rest of your convives? _A._ Certainly not. I have to speak later on--a consideration which entirely destroys my appetite. _Q._ Is there anything new to be said in the loyal toasts? _A._ No; and therefore it is better to return to the simplest form, which is sure to be received with heartfelt enthusiasm. _Q._ What can be said about the united service? _A._ That it is absolutely delightful to expend millions in the furtherance of their interests. _Q._ And can anything interesting be put in about the Houses of Parliament? _A._ Not much. Sneers at the Lords are no longer popular, and the Lower House is too respectable to be anything but a dull subject. _Q._ What about the toast of the evening? _A._ That must be left to the secretary, who will furnish the chairman with the necessary facts, which may be mixed with original remarks, two-thirds humorous to one-third pathetic. _Q._ How are the visitors to be treated? _A._ With fulsome eulogy or comic depreciation inspired by the pages of that excellent manual, _Who's Who_. Particular attention can be paid to the entries under "Recreations" in that admirable work, for appropriate chaff. _Q._ And in what terms does a chairman respond to the toast of his own health? _A._ In a few muttered words addressed to an audience composed of a gentleman fast asleep, the toast-master, and the waiters. * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.--"I say, old chap, it's short notice, but _do_ come and dine this next Thursday!" "Can't, dear old man. I'm engaged three deep for the night!" "Oh, sorry! I've got the Duke and Duchess of Runnymede, and Lord Savory!" "Oh,"--(_seeing it in quite a different light_)--"_next_ Thursday, did you say? I thought you said Thursday _week_. Oh, yes, I shall be delighted!" [_Their Graces and Lord S. never turned up, after all!_]] * * * * * [Illustration: REASSURING "Lor' bless yer, sir, that's all right, sir! _That_ ain't a fly, sir!--_that's_ a bit of dirt!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BREAKING THE ICE _Sprightly Lady._ "Mr. Dormers, would you oblige me with----" _Bashful Curate_ (_who had scarcely spoken to his fair neighbour_). "O, certainly. What shall I have the pleasure to offer?----" _Lady._ "----a remark!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE CONNOISSEUR.--_Host_ (_smacking his lips_). "There, my boy, what do you think of that? I thought I'd give you a treat. That's '34 port, sir!" _Guest._ "Ah, and a very nice, sound wine, I should say! I believe it's quite as good as some I gave 37s. for the other day."] * * * * * [Illustration: A GENTLE SNUB.--"Here, waiter--quick! Something to eat--and look sharp!" "Yessir. What'll you 'ave, sir?" "Oh--anything--I don't care. Chop or steak--whatever you like." "You must excuse me, sir; but I don't feel called upon to decide!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE WAY WE LIVE NOW TIME--3 P.M. SCENE--_Club_. _First Gilded Youth._ "Had any breakfast, old chappie?" _Second Gilded Youth._ "Yes. Had an egg beaten up at twelve." _First Gilded Youth_ (_in admiration_). "Doose you did! What a constitution you must have!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FIRST ASPARAGUS OF THE SEASON _Farmer_ (_at market dinner_). "Wull, gen'elmen, I dunno wot be the c'rect way o' servin' these 'ere, but I gen'elly eats just the ends of 'em myself!" [_Helps himself to the tops!_]] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GENIAL SEASON _Hungry-looking Acquaintance_ (_with eye to invitation_). "So glad to see you enjoying yourself!" _Fat Chap_ (_evidently doing well_). "Wrong again, old man. I'm enjoying my dinner!"] * * * * * A WAITER'S WARNING "ENTOMOLOGY IN PARLIAMENT STREET.--Mr. Frank W. DUFREY, 55, Parliament Street, writes to the _Field_:--'It will interest your entomological readers to hear that a fine specimen of the death's-head hawk moth (_Acherontia atropos_) was taken in Parliament Street on Monday evening. It flew into the dining-room at the Red Lion Tavern, and was captured by one of the waiters, who was alarmed at its size and the peculiar noise it made. Apart from its being rather rubbed, it is a very good specimen of the largest of our lepidoptera, and is now in my possession.'" "William, where's John? What, is he gone?" "Not gone away, sir. Sorry to say, sir; John ill a-bed, sir, Bad in 'is 'ed, sir. 'Ad a great fright, sir. Turned 'is 'air wite, sir. Last Monday night, sir." "Struck down with fear! How? Let me hear." "'Orrible thing, sir, Came on the wing sir; Window in through, sir, Suddently flew, sir, Into this room, sir, A shape from the tomb, sir. 'Twasn't a bat, sir; No, sir, not that, sir: Moth, sir, we thought, sir. But wen it was caught, sir, Huttered a shriek, sir, A scream, sir, a squeak, sir! Hinsect, you know, sir, Couldn't do so, sir. Wot should we find, sir, On its back, sir, be'ind, sir, Printed, exact, sir?-- A skull, sir,--a fact, sir! John gasped for breath, sir; Thought it was Death, sir-- Notice to quit, sir. John was that frit, sir, John 'ad a fit, sir-- Went a'most mad, sir. John very bad, sir; Better, bimeby, sir; 'Opes John won't die, sir. Doctor 'e said, sir, Moth, named death's 'ed, sir, In natteral 'istory, sir; Rare; but no mystery, sir: Honly a prize, sir, A catch in 'is heyes, sir, As a medical gent, sir, No call to repent, sir-- That's 'is belief, sir. A sirloin of beef, sir, Just up--very nice, sir. Bring you a slice, sir? Potatoes and greens, sir-- And any French beans, sir?" * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Godolphin._ "Shall we meet at Dunchester House to-morrow?" _Mrs. Lascelles._ "No. _I_ was there on Monday. I heard there were a few people going to-morrow." _Mrs. Godolphin._ "Oh, yes. She has only asked quite a few people. On Monday, now, I hear there was quite a big rabble there!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF IMPORTANCE.--_Mrs. Brown._ "We are having some friends to dine with us on the twenty-fourth, Mr. Green, and want you to come and help to wait at table, as usual." _The Family Greengrocer._ "On the twenty-fourth, ma'am? I'm sorry to say I'm engaged on the twenty-fourth." _Mrs. Brown._ "Dear me! How unfortunate! We are so accustomed to you, and you know our ways." _Mr. Green._ "Yes, ma'am. Couldn't you write and put off your friends till the week _after_, ma'am?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID "By the way, your friend O'Leary dined with me last night. What a dull dog he is!" "Oh, that depends on what company he's in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID "You can't go home when it's raining like this. You'd better stay and have dinner with us!" "Oh, it's not quite so bad as _that_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FREAKS OF NATURE _Waiter._ "Now, then, look sharp! Here's that mutton chop a biling with rage at bein' kep' waitin', and a beefsteak gone away in a towering passion!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW DISH _Sympathising Swell_ (_waiting for some chicken_). "You've got no sinecure there, Thomas!" _Perspiring Footman._ "Very sorry, sir--just 'elped the last of it away, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ALARMING SYMPTOMS AFTER EATING BOILED BEEF AND GOOSEBERRY PIE _Little Boy._ "Oh, lor, mar, I feel just exactly as if my jacket was buttoned."] * * * * * [Illustration: BROWN AND JONES OVER THEIR WINE _Jones._ "How would I take Cronstadt? With vigour and decision, nothing more easy. My dear Brown, look here. This table is the Baltic, very well. Now look--(_Jones places certain strawberries for the forts; the city of Cronstadt on this occasion only being represented by a plate of gooseberries at the back._) Here we are. The strawberries the forts: Cronstadt the gooseberries. Now a little vigour and decision! This spoon is the _Duke of Wellington_, three-decker, leading the van. We go in here, firing both broadsides at once, to destroy the forts to larboard and starboard; while at the same time our guns in the bows and stern-sheets smash the other forts before and behind. Very good. We are then in front of Cronstadt--the city of Cronstadt. We shell that, sir; shell it of course! Blow up the powder-magazines; capitulation ensues; the Russian fleet is in a blaze, and, my dear Brown, that is how _I_ would take Cronstadt----" _Brown._ "----After dinner."] * * * * * [Illustration: HEAVY _Stranger_ (_just arrived at the City of Eastminster_). "What can I have for dinner, waiter?" _Waiter._ "Anything you please, sir!" _Stranger._ "What are you celebrated for here?" _Waiter._ "Well, sir, there's the cathedral----!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HORRIBLE SUSPICION _Old Gentleman._ "Oh, waiter, why is it that a dinner off the joint is five shillings, but if you only have made dishes and soup, it's two shillings and sixpence?" _Waiter._ "That, sir, is on account of the very high price of butcher's meat just now, sir."] * * * * * [Illustration: SELF-EXAMINATION _Party_ (_slightly influenced_). "Queshion ish! Am I fit to go intodrawingroom? Letsh shee!--I can shay gloriush conshyshusn!--Have seen Brish inshychusion--all that shortothing--thatledo--here gosh!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DURING THE CATTLE SHOW.--_Old Farmer Wuzzle_ (_reading the bill of fare_). "Dinners har lar cart! What does that mean, Polly?" _Miss Wuzzle_ (_who has been to a fashionable boarding-school to be finished, who has been taught French and how "to spank the grand pianner" and who is never at a loss_). "Aller cart, father? Why, that means a small, simple dinner. If you want something heavy and first-rate, you order what they call a dinner waggon!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "MARCH OF REFINEMENT," 1875.--_Brown_ (_behind the age, but hungry_). "Give me the bill of fare, waiter." _Head Waiter._ "Beg pardon, sir?" _Brown._ "The bill of fare." _Head Waiter._ "The what, sir? O!--ah!--Yes!"--(_to subordinate_)--"Chawles, bring this--this--a--gen'leman--the _menoo_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "MELTING!" _Stout Chairman_ (_who feels the fire close at his back rather oppressive_). "Waiter, I asked you to bring me a screen." _Waiter._ "Master's very sorry, sir, but we ain't got no screen!" _Stout Chairman._ "Then, for goodness' sake, tell the cook to send up the dripping-pan, and put it under me, quick!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, waiter, this salmon cutlet isn't half so good as the one I had here last week." "Can't see why, sir. It's off the same fish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "PLEASE TO REMEMBER THE WAITER" "All right, sir! My fault!"] * * * * * DRINKING SCENE OF THE FUTURE (_In consequence of the Growing Demand for Lighter Liquors_) SCENE--_The interior of a Dining-room. The ladies have just left, and the gentlemen are discussing their beverages._ _Smith._ I say, Brown, if it is not an impertinent question, where did you get that toast-and-water? _Brown._ I thought you would be deceived! It was a cup, not the pure article! My butler is a first-rate hand at it. I will give you the recipe if you like. _Smith._ Do. It was excellent. What _is_ the secret? _Brown._ Something, I fancy, to do with watercress. _Jones._ I say, Brown, that was really very nice sherbet. Turkish or Persian? _Brown._ Neither. Came from the Stores. Home-made. _Jones._ Well, it certainly was capital. I could have sworn that it had been manufactured east of the Levant. _Brown._ More likely east of Temple Bar. And now shall we have a whitewash before we join the ladies? _Six Guests._ No, thanks! Really not! _Half-a-dozen more of the Company._ Really not! No, thanks! _Brown._ Nonsense! (_Produces a pint bottle of lemonade._) Nonsense, I repeat! Look here, my boys. (_Locks door._) Not one of you fellows shall leave the room until you have finished _this_! [_Draws cork of pint bottle, and distributes the lemonade amidst the good-natured protestations of the revellers. Scene closes in upon the temperance orgy._ * * * * * [Illustration: A PERSONAL GRIEVANCE "I say, won't they let _you_ go into long trousers?"] * * * * * [Illustration: STUDIES IN ANIMAL LIFE THE GOORMONG. (_Epicuri de Grege Porcus. British Isles_) _Mr. Huggins._ "_What_ a 'eavenly dinner it was!" _Mr. Buggins._ "B'lieve yer! Mykes yer wish yer was born 'oller!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE NEW SCHOOL.--_Uncle_ (_who is rather proud of his cellar_). "Now George, my boy, there's a glass of champagne for you--don't get such stuff at school, eh? eh? eh?" _George._ "H'm--awfully sweet! Very good sort for ladies--but I've arrived at a time of life, when I confess I like my wine _dry_!" (_Sensation._)] * * * * * [Illustration: PLEASANT!--_Lord Reginald Sansdenier_ (_in answer to confidential remark of his host_). "Twenty thousand pounds worth of plate on the table, Sir Gorgius? I wonder you ain't afraid of being robbed!" _Sir Gorgius Midas._ "_Robbed_, my lord! Good 'evens! I'm sure yer lordship's too honnerable heven to _think_ of sich a thing!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Farmer._ "I say, John, what do you call a pineapple--a fruit or a vegetable?" _Waiter._ "A pineapple hain't neither, gentlemen. A pineapple is always a hextra!"] * * * * * DINING AL FRESCO (_Extract from an Earl's Courtier's Notebook_) 6 P.M.--Come down early, to get a table. Can't. All the tables booked a week in advance. Very angry. Manager says he'll see what can be done for me--later on. Fairly satisfied. He had better! 7 P.M.--In state of heat. Have a fair appetite. Ask for table. "What table?" "The one promised me--later on." "Very sorry, but they are all engaged." Awfully angry. Explain that I am a person of some importance. Can do the place a great deal of good if I do have a table, and _vice versâ_. Manager desolated. See everybody else stuffing, drinking, and enjoying themselves. How they can have the heart! And _I_ table-less! But, no matter, a time will come. I'll write to "the leading journal" and denounce everything and everybody. 7.15 P.M.--Explosively wrathful. At last! Ha! ha! Got a table. But at the back somewhere. Strong smell of cooking. Distant echo of a band. Exceedingly annoyed. Have tasted _hors d'oeuvres_. Sardines decent. 7.20 P.M.--_Bonne Femme_ soup good. Have ordered champagne cup. Still annoyed. 7.30 P.M.--Salmon mayonnaise distinctly excellent. Good idea to have cold dinner. Champagne cup well brewed. Don't notice the smell of cooking. Can hear the band. Nice band. 7.40 P.M.--_Pâté de fois gras en aspic._ Capital Cold joint. First-rate. Salad artistically mixed. Second champagne cup as good as first. After all, place of table not so bad. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: A TRUE ARTIST.--_Mamma_ (_to Tommy, who has been allowed for a few minutes to wait at table_). "Now, Tommy, kiss me, and go to bed." _Tommy_ (_to footman_). "Do _you_ ever kiss the missus, Charles?" _Footman._ "No, sir!" _Tommy._ "Then _I_ won't!"] * * * * * THE MENU A LA MODE Come, Damon, since again we've met We'll feast right royally to-night, The groaning table shall be set With every seasonable delight! The luscious bivalve ... I forgot, The oyster is an arch-deceiver, And makes its eater's certain lot A bad attack of typhoid fever. With soup, then, be it thick or clear, The banquet fitly may commence-- Alas, on second thoughts, I fear With soup as well we must dispense. The doctors urge that, in effect, Soup simply kills the thoughtless glutton. It's full of germs. I recollect They say the same of beef and mutton. Yes, each variety of meat, As you remark, is much the same, And we're forbidden now to eat Fish, oysters, poultry, joint or game. But though a Nemesis each brings, The punishment, the doctors tell, is As nothing to the awful things Awaiting all who toy with jellies. Cheese--that is not condemned with these Yet ample evidence we find To make us, Damon, look on cheese As simply poison to mankind; While those who may desire to pass Immediately o'er Charon's ferry, Have but to take a daily glass Of claret, hock, champagne or sherry. And therefore, Damon, you and I, Who fain would live a year at least, Reluctantly must modify The scope of our projected feast; A charcoal biscuit we will share, Water (distilled, of course,) we'll swallow, Since this appears the only fare On which destruction will not follow! * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: SMALL SOCIAL AGONIES _Hostess._ "It's but a poor lunch I can give you! But my cook has got influenza!" _Enfant terrible._ "Oh, mummy, you _always_ say that!"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUITE A NOVELTY.--_Amiable Experimentalist._ "Makes a delicious side dish, doesn't it? But it is not the common mushroom; it's a large fungus, called the agaricus procerus. It grows solitary in hedge rows, is called colubrinus, from the snake-like markings on its stem. The pileus is covered with scales, which are formed by the breaking-up of the mud-coloured epidermis, and----" [_General panic takes place_] * * * * * THE DIRGE OF THE DINER _A Restore-Wrong Rhyme_ "_Attendance is charged in the bill!_" Delighted we sit down to dine; And order our food and our wine. The waiter is passing polite, We eat with a grand appetite Of dishes compounded with skill. The room is so cosy and light; The glass and the silver are bright; Our flag of defiance is furled, We seem all at peace with the world, And rest quite contented until---- Attendance is charged one and nine. We pay its collector a fine; And give to the waiter polite A tip he regards as his right And duty of ours to fulfil! The carver, too, looks for a fee; The man with our coat, so does he! The porter expects something more, Who calls us a cab at the door!---- "_Attendance is charged in the bill!_" * * * * * [Illustration: THE GOLDEN KEY.--_Mr. Montgomerie._ "Ah! my dear boys, you're right. The extent to which our English system of 'tipping' has grown is something monstrous! Why, I can assure you--that--at some of the big country houses I stop at, it costs me a ten-pound note _to get out of 'em_!" _Jones_ (_to his neighbour, sotto voce_). "Wonder how much it costs him to _get into_ 'em?"] * * * * * THE ECONOMICS OF SMOKING BY JOSEPH FUME. The man who smokes half his cigar, and puts the remainder by, knows nothing about smoking. The man who carries no cigar-case has no right to levy contributions on those who do. Never buy a cigar at a chemist's, they are sure to remind you of their origin. I once knew a chemist, who also sold wine and cigars, and I am sure he could only have had one workshop for his three businesses, and that was his laboratory. Mistrust the tobacco that is given in half-payment of a bill. Such dealers may be clever in drawing a bill, but it is rarely that their cigars are distinguished for being good "drawers." The man who smokes with wine is quite capable of taking sugar with oysters. * * * * * [Illustration: ANNALS OF A RETIRED SUBURB.--The Montgomery Joneses celebrated their wedding-day by giving a dinner on an unusually magnificent scale to some of their London friends. Unfortunately, an unexpected change in the weather during the afternoon has made the road up the hill rather heavy, so that the London friends omit to turn up.] * * * * * PROVERBS FOR TABLE Set a thief to catch a thief: Think of this when eating beef. All that glitters is not gold: Think of this when that beef's cold. Harm is done by too much zeal: Think of this when eating veal. Life's a jest, and all things show it: Think of this when drinking Moet. Happiness flies Court for garret: Think of this when drinking claret. Gold may oft be bought too dear: Think of this when drinking beer. Many littles make a mickle: Think of this when eating pickle. Silent fools may pass for wise: Think of this when eating rice. Unto Rome conduct all roads: Think of this when eating toads. Flog first fault: _principiis obsta_, Think of this when eating lobster. While grass grows the horse may starve: Think of this when asked to carve. Shake the tree when fruit is ripe: Think of this when eating tripe. Fools build houses, wise men buy: Think of this when eating pie. Pause, ere leaping in the dark: Think of this when eating lark. Punctual pay gets willing loan: Think of _this_ when drinking Beaune. Wisdom asks fruits, but Folly flowers: Think o' _this_ when eating cauliflowers. Birds of a feather flock together: Think of this when the idiot of a cook has boiled the oysters in the sauce, and made them as tough as leather. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _Hostess._ "What fun you seem to be having over there, Captain Smiley! I wish you all sat at this end of the table!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Waiter_ (_who has "seen better days"--absently, as he pours out the champagne_). "Say when!"] * * * * * SPRING-CLEANING. "In Spring when woods are getting green," My wife begins the house to clean, And I am driven from this scene, Of scrub-land. The mops and pails left on the stairs I come across, quite unawares, And break my shins and utter--prayers, For tub-land. In clouds of dust I choke and cough, Such draughts! My hat I dare not doff, I'd go (if I were not a toff) To pub-land. But--mum--I won't kick up a shine Nor of delight give any sign, But, quietly, I'm off to dine In Club-land. * * * * * A SOAKER'S PARADISE.--Dropmore. * * * * * A MONSTER MEETING.--A giant and a dwarf. * * * * * POETICAL LICENCE.--A music-hall's. * * * * * TURF REFORM.--Mowing the lawn. * * * * * [Illustration: _Quiet Man_ (_as a particularly "steep" story of adventure comes to a close_). "Er--will somebody pass the _salt_, please?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Adolphus_ (_grandly; he is giving his future brother-in-law a little dinner down the river_). "Waitar--you can--ah--leave us!" _Old Waiter._ "Hem!--yessir--but--you'll pard'n me, sir--we've so many gents--'don't wish to impute nothink, sir--but master--'fact is, sir--(_evidently feels a delicacy about mentioning it_)--we're--you see, sir--'_sponsible for the plate, sir_!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GRAND BURNS' FESTIVAL--BROWN ENTERTAINS HIS FRIEND WI' A HAGGIS!] * * * * * DISCLAIMER BY A DINER-OUT Abolish party? Whose delight were greater Than mine? I hail the chance with rapture hearty. But oh! I _can't_ agree with the _Spectator_, Who'd do away with--gods!--the dinner party! No, let us compromise,--we'll all be winners,-- And firmly banish party from our dinners! * * * * * SYMPATHY (SCENE--_In front of Mrs. R.'s house_) _Mrs. Ramsbotham_ (_paying Cabman_). You look all right to-day. _Cabman._ Ah, mum! my looks don't pity me. I suffer from a tarpaulin liver. _Mrs. R._ (_correcting_). A torpedo liver, you mean. [_Cabman accepts the correction, and an extra shilling_] * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT.--_Sir Pompey Bedell_ (_poking the fire in his new smoking-room_). "This wretched chimney has got into a most objectionable way of smoking. A--I can't cure it." _Bedell Junior._ "Just give it a couple of your cigars, governor!--it'll never smoke again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "CRAMMING"] * * * * * "CRAMMING." _Affectionate Uncle._ "Glad to see you, Rupert. Now tell me all about it. What form are you in, old boy?" _Nephew_ (_just returned from Harrow_). "Well, uncle, not so bad, I think. I can generally manage a couple of eggs, two sausages, or kidneys, some Dundee marmalade, and two cups of coffee for breakfast. I always have a little luncheon, any amount of roast beef or mutton for dinner, and I generally look in at the confectioner's in the afternoon, and invariably wind up with a good supper. What do you think of that?" [_Disappointed and misunderstood uncle subsides, and thinks it best to make no comments._ [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Gentleman_ (_who has not hurried over his dinner, and has just got his bill_). "Waiter, what's this? I'm charged here twopence for stationery. You know I've had none----" _Irish Waiter._ "Faix! yer honour, I don't know. Y'ave been sittin' here a long t-h-ime, anyhow!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A STRICT REGARD FOR TRUTH."--_Nephew._ "Hold up, uncle, people'll think you're screwed!" _Uncle_ (_the wedding breakfast had been hilarious_). "Shcrew'd! No, no, Sheorgsh! No' sh' bad 'sh that! 'Shame time--don' le'sh be"--(_lurching heavily_)--"osht'n--tas'hly shober! 'Can't bear osht'ntash'n!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SEASONABLE LUXURY _Old Gent_ (_disgusted_). "Here, waiter! Here's a--here's a--a--caterpillar in this chop!" _Waiter_ (_flippantly_). "Yessir. About the time o' year for 'em just now, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE "STATUS QUO ANTE."--_Squire_ (_desiring to improve the taste of his country friends, has introduced at his table, in the place of the usual brandied Spanish and Portuguese wines, the natural vintages of France and Germany_). "Now, Mr. Barleymead, how do you like this 'Chateau Lafitte'? Another glass----" _Farmer B._ "Thanky, sir; it's uncommon nice.--(_He had drunk a bottle or two._)--But we don't seem to get no forruder!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COMING OUT AS A CONVERSATIONALIST _Young Ganderson_ (_proudly conscious of the general attention_) "Oh yes, it's in _Soho_, you know. I know the place well. They give you a capital dinner for eighteenpence--wine included." _Host_ (_proud of his cellar_). "And is the wine drinkable?" _Young Ganderson._ "Oh yes--very good--better than the wine we're drinking now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN AFFECTIONATE HUSBAND _Tomkins._ "You are going it, old fellow! Real turtle, eh? and venison to follow, eh?" _Jobkins._ "Why, yes--you see it's my wife's birthday; and as she dines early, I thought I'd celebrate the anniversary in the city."] * * * * * [Illustration: MISTAKEN IDENTITY.--(_As the De Smiths, to whose dinner-party he was invited, lived in the next square, Brown thought he would walk over._) _Head waiter_ (_under a wrong impression_). "This won't do, young man! We've been expectin' o' you this 'our and a 'alf! No napkins laid, no glasses, no----!!!" [_Brown never got over it all the evening._] * * * * * [Illustration: AN AWFUL CRAMMER _Proprietor of boarding-house_ (_taking stout guest aside_). "You'll excuse me, Mr. Sharpset, but your appetite is so large that I shall be compelled to charge you a shilling extra. It can't be done at two shillings!" _Diner._ "No! For heaven's sake don't do that! I can eat two shillings'-worth easy; but if I have to do three--I really--afraid I should--but I'll try!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BETTING EVIL. _Waiter_ (_down tube_). "Wild duck, one!" _Voice from the kitchen._ "Did he? Just like my luck. Backed another wrong 'un!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT VERY LIKELY _Waiter_ (_in response to the Colonel's very vigorous reminder_). "Oh yes, sir, immediately! 'M--let's see--a _glass of milk_, sir, wasn't it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: FIGURATIVE _Head Waiter_ (_the Old Gent had wished for a stronger cheese_). "Hi! James--let loose the Gorgonzola!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BEWILDERING _Mr. Wuzzles_ (_up for the cattle-show_). "Cheese, waiter!" '_Robert._' "Yessir! Rockfor', commonbare, grew'ere, noochattell, gorgumzo----" _Mr. Wuzzles_ (_testily_). "No, no! I said _cheese_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "ON THE FACE OF IT" _Host._ "I don't like this Lafitte half so well as the last, Binns. Have you noticed any difference?" _New Butler._ "Well, sir, for myself I don't drink claret; I find port agrees with me so much better!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AWFUL WARNING!--_Guest_ (_at City Company dinner_). "I'm uncommonly hungry!" _Ancient Liveryman_ (_with feeling_). "Take care, my dear sir, for goodness' sake, take care! D' you know it happened to me at the last Lord Mayor's dinner to burn my tongue with my first spoonful of clear turtle; 'consequence was--(_sighs_)--'couldn't taste at all--anything--for the rest of the evening!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: It is quite possible to have too much of a good thing--as for example, when you get the asparagus shot over your favourite dress-coat with the silk facings.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Testy Old Uncle_ (_unable to control his passion_). "Really, sir, this is quite intolerable! You must intend to insult me. For the last fourteen days, wherever I have dined, I have had nothing but saddle of mutton and boiled turkey--boiled turkey and saddle of mutton. I'll endure it no longer." [_Exit old gent, who alters his will._ Moral.--_How ridiculous a man appears--particularly a man at a grave period of life--who is over-anxious about his eating and drinking!_] * * * * * [Illustration: "ALL THE DIFFERENCE" _Dyspeptic Diner._ "Um"--(_forking it suspiciously_)--"what is it, waiter?" '_Robert._' "It says 'ronyongs sorty' on the menoo, sir. But I can't say what it may be on the dish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _His Partner._ "I really never heard a better speech in my life! Such a wonderful flow of----" _He._ "Great Scott! That reminds me--I've left the bathroom tap at home full on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE NICE LITTLE DINNER _Tommy_ (_who is standing a feed to Harry_). "Oh, hang it, you know, fourteen bob for a bottle of champagne! That's coming it rather strong, ain't it?" _Waiter_ (_with perfect composure_). "We have some _cheap_ wine, sir, at half-a-guinea!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TOO LITERAL BY HALF SCENE.--_A "cheap" chop-house not a hundred miles from L--nd--n._ _Waiter._ "Paysir? Yessir--Whataveyeradsir?" _Matter-of-fact old gentleman_ (_who has been reading the "Quarterly" on "Food and its adulterations"_). "Had? why, let me see: I've had some horsetail soup, spiced with red-lead and shop-sweepings: a plate of roast cow, and cabbage boiled with verdigris: a crust of plaster of Paris, baked with alum and bone-dust: half-a-pint of porter brewed from quassia and strychnine: and a cup of charred liver, annatto, and other unknown ingredients." [_Exit waiter for a straight-waistcoat, and a stomach-pump._] * * * * * [Illustration: _Dolly._ "Please, Miss Sharp, mamma says, have you _really_ left your songs at home?" _Miss Sharp._ "Yes, dear. Why?" _Dolly._ "Well, papa says 'it sounds too good to be true'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EUREKA!--_Isaacstein_ (_late of Whitechapel, showing old friend over bathroom in new house_). "What am I goin' to do with it? Vell, you see, I've always rather wanted a place where I could keep goldfish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Juvenile._ "Uncle!" _Uncle._ "Now then, what is it? This is the fourth time you've woke me up, sir!" _Juvenile._ "Oh! Just put a few coals on the fire, and pass the wine, that's a good old chap."] * * * * * NURSERIANA.--_Little Chris._ "Oh! mamma, mamma, baby's moulted again." _Mamma._ "Moulted! What do you mean?" _Little Chris._ "Why, he's just dropped another tooth!" * * * * * [Illustration: SAFEST WAY OF TAKING A LADY DOWN TO DINNER (Another reminiscence of the days of the crinoline)] * * * * * [Illustration: SAT UPON _Hospitable Host._ "Does any gentleman say pudden?" _Precise Guest._ "No, sir. No _gentleman_ says _pudden_."] * * * * * [Illustration: UNEXPECTED GRATUITY.--_Waiter._ "Beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. This is a halfpenny!" _Old Gent_ (_grandly_). "Oh dear no--not at all, not at all! I never give less!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Hickling_ (_to friend, who finds some difficulty in keeping his cigar alight_). "I say, old man, what matches do you smoke?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "Fond of Bridge?" _She._ "Awfully!" _He._ "Do you know I always think there's something _wanting_ in people who don't play?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Party_ (_very naturally excited_). "Why, confound you! You are wiping my plate with your handkerchief!" _Waiter_ (_blandly_). "It's of no consequence, sir--it's only a dirty one!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN DESPERATE STRAITS _Jones_ (_blue ribbon--to abstemious lady he has taken in to dinner_). "Look here, madam, we don't seem to be getting on a _bit_! Either you must have a glass of champagne, or, by Jove, I must!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _Guest_ (_who is a bon-vivant, to host, who isn't_). "You must come and dine with _me_, Jones!" _Host._ "With pleasure, my dear friend! When?" _Guest._ "_Now!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NOT QUITE THE CHEESE!" _British Farmer._ "What sort o' cheese do you call this? Full o' holes!" _Waiter._ "Grew-yere, sir." _British Farmer_ (_suspiciously_). "Then just bring one that grew somewhere else!"] * * * * * [Illustration] THE END BRADBURY AGNEW & CO LD. PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. * * * * * 
2648	----	GEORGE CRUIKSHANK By William Makepeace Thackeray * Reprinted from the Westminster Review for June, 1840. (No 66.) Accusations of ingratitude, and just accusations no doubt, are made against every inhabitant of this wicked world, and the fact is, that a man who is ceaselessly engaged in its trouble and turmoil, borne hither and thither upon the fierce waves of the crowd, bustling, shifting, struggling to keep himself somewhat above water--fighting for reputation, or more likely for bread, and ceaselessly occupied to-day with plans for appeasing the eternal appetite of inevitable hunger to-morrow--a man in such straits has hardly time to think of anything but himself, and, as in a sinking ship, must make his own rush for the boats, and fight, struggle, and trample for safety. In the midst of such a combat as this, the "ingenious arts, which prevent the ferocity of the manners, and act upon them as an emollient" (as the philosophic bard remarks in the Latin Grammar) are likely to be jostled to death, and then forgotten. The world will allow no such compromises between it and that which does not belong to it--no two gods must we serve; but (as one has seen in some old portraits) the horrible glazed eyes of Necessity are always fixed upon you; fly away as you will, black Care sits behind you, and with his ceaseless gloomy croaking drowns the voice of all more cheerful companions. Happy he whose fortune has placed him where there is calm and plenty, and who has the wisdom not to give up his quiet in quest of visionary gain. Here is, no doubt, the reason why a man, after the period of his boyhood, or first youth, makes so few friends. Want and ambition (new acquaintances which are introduced to him along with his beard) thrust away all other society from him. Some old friends remain, it is true, but these are become as a habit--a part of your selfishness; and, for new ones, they are selfish as you are. Neither member of the new partnership has the capital of affection and kindly feeling, or can even afford the time that is requisite for the establishment of the new firm. Damp and chill the shades of the prison-house begin to close round us, and that "vision splendid" which has accompanied our steps in our journey daily farther from the east, fades away and dies into the light of common day. And what a common day! what a foggy, dull, shivering apology for light is this kind of muddy twilight through which we are about to tramp and flounder for the rest of our existence, wandering farther and farther from the beauty and freshness and from the kindly gushing springs of clear gladness that made all around us green in our youth! One wanders and gropes in a slough of stock-jobbing, one sinks or rises in a storm of politics, and in either case it is as good to fall as to rise--to mount a bubble on the crest of the wave, as to sink a stone to the bottom. The reader who has seen the name affixed to the head of this article scarcely expected to be entertained with a declamation upon ingratitude, youth, and the vanity of human pursuits, which may seem at first sight to have little to do with the subject in hand. But (although we reserve the privilege of discoursing upon whatever subject shall suit us, and by no means admit the public has any right to ask in our sentences for any meaning, or any connection whatever) it happens that, in this particular instance, there is an undoubted connection. In Susan's case, as recorded by Wordsworth, what connection had the corner of Wood Street with a mountain ascending, a vision of trees, and a nest by the Dove? Why should the song of a thrush cause bright volumes of vapor to glide through Lothbury, and a river to flow on through the vale of Cheapside? As she stood at that corner of Wood Street, a mop and a pail in her hand most likely, she heard the bird singing, and straight-way began pining and yearning for the days of her youth, forgetting the proper business of the pail and mop. Even so we are moved by the sight of some of Mr. Cruikshank's works--the "Busen fuhlt sich jugendlich erschuttert," the "schwankende Gestalten" of youth flit before one again,--Cruikshank's thrush begins to pipe and carol, as in the days of boyhood; hence misty moralities, reflections, and sad and pleasant remembrances arise. He is the friend of the young especially. Have we not read, all the story-books that his wonderful pencil has illustrated? Did we not forego tarts, in order to buy his "Breaking-up," or his "Fashionable Monstrosities" of the year eighteen hundred and something? Have we not before us, at this very moment, a print,--one of the admirable "Illustrations of Phrenology"--which entire work was purchased by a joint-stock company of boys, each drawing lots afterwards for the separate prints, and taking his choice in rotation? The writer of this, too, had the honor of drawing the first lot, and seized immediately upon "Philoprogenitiveness"--a marvellous print (our copy is not at all improved by being colored, which operation we performed on it ourselves)--a marvellous print, indeed,--full of ingenuity and fine jovial humor. A father, possessor of an enormous nose and family, is surrounded by the latter, who are, some of them, embracing the former. The composition writhes and twists about like the Kermes of Rubens. No less than seven little men and women in nightcaps, in frocks, in bibs, in breeches, are clambering about the head, knees, and arms of the man with the nose; their noses, too, are preternaturally developed--the twins in the cradle have noses of the most considerable kind. The second daughter, who is watching them; the youngest but two, who sits squalling in a certain wicker chair; the eldest son, who is yawning; the eldest daughter, who is preparing with the gravy of two mutton-chops a savory dish of Yorkshire pudding for eighteen persons; the youths who are examining her operations (one a literary gentleman, in a remarkably neat nightcap and pinafore, who has just had his finger in the pudding); the genius who is at work on the slate, and the two honest lads who are hugging the good-humored washerwoman, their mother,--all, all, save, this worthy woman, have noses of the largest size. Not handsome certainly are they, and yet everybody must be charmed with the picture. It is full of grotesque beauty. The artist has at the back of his own skull, we are certain, a huge bump of philoprogenitiveness. He loves children in his heart; every one of those he has drawn is perfectly happy, and jovial, and affectionate, and innocent as possible. He makes them with large noses, but he loves them, and you always find something kind in the midst of his humor, and the ugliness redeemed by a sly touch of beauty. The smiling mother reconciles one with all the hideous family: they have all something of the mother in them--something kind, and generous, and tender. Knight's, in Sweeting's Alley; Fairburn's, in a court off Ludgate Hill; Hone's, in Fleet Street--bright, enchanted palaces, which George Cruikshank used to people with grinning, fantastical imps, and merry, harmless sprites,--where are they? Fairburn's shop knows him no more; not only has Knight disappeared from Sweeting's Alley, but, as we are given to understand, Sweetings Alley has disappeared from the face of the globe. Slop, the atrocious Castlereagh, the sainted Caroline (in a tight pelisse, with feathers in her head), the "Dandy of sixty," who used to glance at us from Hone's friendly windows--where are they? Mr. Cruikshank may have drawn a thousand better things since the days when these were; but they are to us a thousand times more pleasing than anything else he has done. How we used to believe in them! to stray miles out of the way on holidays, in order to ponder for an hour before that delightful window in Sweeting's Alley! in walks through Fleet Street, to vanish abruptly down Fairburn's passage, and there make one at his "charming gratis" exhibition. There used to be a crowd round the window in those days, of grinning, good-natured mechanics, who spelt the songs, and spoke them out for the benefit of the company, and who received the points of humor with a general sympathizing roar. Where are these people now? You never hear any laughing at HB.; his pictures are a great deal too genteel for that--polite points of wit, which strike one as exceedingly clever and pretty, and cause one to smile in a quiet, gentleman-like kind of way. There must be no smiling with Cruikshank. A man who does not laugh outright is a dullard, and has no heart; even the old dandy of sixty must have laughed at his own wondrous grotesque image, as they say Louis Philippe did, who saw all the caricatures that were made of himself. And there are some of Cruikshank's designs which have the blessed faculty of creating laughter as often as you see them. As Diggory says in the play, who is bidden by his master not to laugh while waiting at table--"Don't tell the story of Grouse in the Gun-room, master, or I can't help laughing." Repeat that history ever so often, and at the proper moment, honest Diggory is sure to explode. Every man, no doubt, who loves Cruikshank has his "Grouse in the Gun-room." There is a fellow in the "Points of Humor" who is offering to eat up a certain little general, that has made us happy any time these sixteen years: his huge mouth is a perpetual well of laughter--buckets full of fun can be drawn from it. We have formed no such friendships as that boyish one of the man with the mouth. But though, in our eyes, Mr. Cruikshank reached his apogee some eighteen years since, it must not be imagined that such is really the case. Eighteen sets of children have since then learned to love and admire him, and may many more of their successors be brought up in the same delightful faith. It is not the artist who fails, but the men who grow cold--the men, from whom the illusions (why illusions? realities) of youth disappear one by one; who have no leisure to be happy, no blessed holidays, but only fresh cares at Midsummer and Christmas, being the inevitable seasons which bring us bills instead of pleasures. Tom, who comes bounding home from school, has the doctor's account in his trunk, and his father goes to sleep at the pantomime to which he takes him. Pater infelix, you too have laughed at clown, and the magic wand of spangled harlequin; what delightful enchantment did it wave around you, in the golden days "when George the Third was king!" But our clown lies in his grave; and our harlequin, Ellar, prince of how many enchanted islands, was he not at Bow Street the other day,* in his dirty, tattered, faded motley--seized as a law-breaker, for acting at a penny theatre, after having wellnigh starved in the streets, where nobody would listen to his old guitar? No one gave a shilling to bless him: not one of us who owe him so much. * This was written in 1840. We know not if Mr. Cruikshank will be very well pleased at finding his name in such company as that of Clown and Harlequin; but he, like them, is certainly the children's friend. His drawings abound in feeling for these little ones, and hideous as in the course of his duty he is from time to time compelled to design them, he never sketches one without a certain pity for it, and imparting to the figure a certain grotesque grace. In happy schoolboys he revels; plum-pudding and holidays his needle has engraved over and over again; there is a design in one of the comic almanacs of some young gentlemen who are employed in administering to a schoolfellow the correction of the pump, which is as graceful and elegant as a drawing of Stothard. Dull books about children George Cruikshank makes bright with illustrations--there is one published by the ingenious and opulent Mr. Tegg. It is entitled "Mirth and Morality," the mirth being, for the most part, on the side of the designer--the morality, unexceptionable certainly, the author's capital. Here are then, to these moralities, a smiling train of mirths supplied by George Cruikshank. See yonder little fellows butterfly-hunting across a common! Such a light, brisk, airy, gentleman-like drawing was never made upon such a theme. Who, cries the author-- "Who has not chased the butterfly, And crushed its slender legs and wings, And heaved a moralizing sigh: Alas! how frail are human things!" A very unexceptionable morality truly; but it would have puzzled another than George Cruikshank to make mirth out of it as he has done. Away, surely not on the wings of these verses, Cruikshank's imagination begins to soar; and he makes us three darling little men on a green common, backed by old farmhouses, somewhere about May. A great mixture of blue and clouds in the air, a strong fresh breeze stirring, Tom's jacket flapping in the same, in order to bring down the insect queen or king of spring that is fluttering above him,--he renders all this with a few strokes on a little block of wood not two inches square, upon which one may gaze for hours, so merry and lifelike a scene does it present. What a charming creative power is this, what a privilege--to be a god, and create little worlds upon paper, and whole generations of smiling, jovial men, women, and children half inch high, whose portraits are carried abroad, and have the faculty of making us monsters of six feet curious and happy in our turn. Now, who would imagine that an artist could make anything of such a subject as this? The writer begins by stating,-- "I love to go back to the days of my youth, And to reckon my joys to the letter, And to count o'er the friends that I have in the world, Ay, and those who are gone to a better." This brings him to the consideration of his uncle. "Of all the men I have ever known," says he, "my uncle united the greatest degree of cheerfulness with the sobriety of manhood. Though a man when I was a boy, he was yet one of the most agreeable companions I ever possessed. . . . He embarked for America, and nearly twenty years passed by before he came back again; . . . but oh, how altered!--he was in every sense of the word an old man, his body and mind were enfeebled, and second childishness had come upon him. How often have I bent over him, vainly endeavoring to recall to his memory the scenes we had shared together: and how frequently, with an aching heart, have I gazed on his vacant and lustreless eye, while he has amused himself in clapping his hands and singing with a quavering voice a verse of a psalm." Alas! such are the consequences of long residences in America, and of old age even in uncles! Well, the point of this morality is, that the uncle one day in the morning of life vowed that he would catch his two nephews and tie them together, ay, and actually did so, for all the efforts the rogues made to run away from him; but he was so fatigued that he declared he never would make the attempt again, whereupon the nephew remarks,--"Often since then, when engaged in enterprises beyond my strength, have I called to mind the determination of my uncle." Does it not seem impossible to make a picture out of this? And yet George Cruikshank has produced a charming design, in which the uncles and nephews are so prettily portrayed that one is reconciled to their existence, with all their moralities. Many more of the mirths in this little book are excellent, especially a great figure of a parson entering church on horseback,--an enormous parson truly, calm, unconscious, unwieldy. As Zeuxis had a bevy of virgins in order to make his famous picture--his express virgin--a clerical host must have passed under Cruikshank's eyes before he sketched this little, enormous parson of parsons. Being on the subject of children's books, how shall we enough praise the delightful German nursery-tales, and Cruikshank's illustrations of them? We coupled his name with pantomime awhile since, and sure never pantomimes were more charming than these. Of all the artists that ever drew, from Michael Angelo upwards and downwards, Cruikshank was the man to illustrate these tales, and give them just the proper admixture of the grotesque, the wonderful, and the graceful. May all Mother Bunch's collection be similarly indebted to him; may "Jack the Giant Killer," may "Tom Thumb," may "Puss in Boots," be one day revivified by his pencil. Is not Whittington sitting yet on Highgate hill, and poor Cinderella (in that sweetest of all fairy stories) still pining in her lonely chimney-nook? A man who has a true affection for these delightful companions of his youth is bound to be grateful to them if he can, and we pray Mr. Cruikshank to remember them. It is folly to say that this or that kind of humor is too good for the public, that only a chosen few can relish it. The best humor that we know of has been as eagerly received by the public as by the most delicate connoisseur. There is hardly a man in England who can read but will laugh at Falstaff and the humor of Joseph Andrews; and honest Mr. Pickwick's story can be felt and loved by any person above the age of six. Some may have a keener enjoyment of it than others, but all the world can be merry over it, and is always ready to welcome it. The best criterion of good humor is success, and what a share of this has Mr. Cruikshank had! how many millions of mortals has he made happy! We have heard very profound persons talk philosophically of the marvellous and mysterious manner in which he has suited himself to the time--fait vibrer la fibre populaire (as Napoleon boasted of himself), supplied a peculiar want felt at a peculiar period, the simple secret of which is, as we take it, that he, living amongst the public, has with them a general wide-hearted sympathy, that he laughs at what they laugh at, that he has a kindly spirit of enjoyment, with not a morsel of mysticism in his composition; that he pities and loves the poor, and jokes at the follies of the great, and that he addresses all in a perfectly sincere and manly way. To be greatly successful as a professional humorist, as in any other calling, a man must be quite honest, and show that his heart is in his work. A bad preacher will get admiration and a hearing with this point in his favor, where a man of three times his acquirements will only find indifference and coldness. Is any man more remarkable than our artist for telling the truth after his own manner? Hogarth's honesty of purpose was as conspicuous in an earlier time, and we fancy that Gilray would have been far more successful and more powerful but for that unhappy bribe, which turned the whole course of his humor into an unnatural channel. Cruikshank would not for any bribe say what he did not think, or lend his aid to sneer down anything meritorious, or to praise any thing or person that deserved censure. When he levelled his wit against the Regent, and did his very prettiest for the Princess, he most certainly believed, along with the great body of the people whom he represents, that the Princess was the most spotless, pure-mannered darling of a Princess that ever married a heartless debauchee of a Prince Royal. Did not millions believe with him, and noble and learned lords take their oaths to her Royal Highness's innocence? Cruikshank would not stand by and see a woman ill-used, and so struck in for her rescue, he and the people belaboring with all their might the party who were making the attack, and determining, from pure sympathy and indignation, that the woman must be innocent because her husband treated her so foully. To be sure we have never heard so much from Mr. Cruikshank's own lips, but any man who will examine these odd drawings, which first made him famous, will see what an honest hearty hatred the champion of woman has for all who abuse her, and will admire the energy with which he flings his wood-blocks at all who side against her. Canning, Castlereagh, Bexley, Sidmouth, he is at them, one and all; and as for the Prince, up to what a whipping-post of ridicule did he tie that unfortunate old man! And do not let squeamish Tories cry out about disloyalty; if the crown does wrong, the crown must be corrected by the nation, out of respect, of course, for the crown. In those days, and by those people who so bitterly attacked the son, no word was ever breathed against the father, simply because he was a good husband, and a sober, thrifty, pious, orderly man. This attack upon the Prince Regent we believe to have been Mr. Cruikshank's only effort as a party politician. Some early manifestoes against Napoleon we find, it is true, done in the regular John Bull style, with the Gilray model for the little upstart Corsican: but as soon as the Emperor had yielded to stern fortune our artist's heart relented (as Beranger's did on the other side of the water), and many of our readers will doubtless recollect a fine drawing of "Louis XVIII. trying on Napoleon's boots," which did not certainly fit the gouty son of Saint Louis. Such satirical hits as these, however, must not be considered as political, or as anything more than the expression of the artist's national British idea of Frenchmen. It must be confessed that for that great nation Mr. Cruikshank entertains a considerable contempt. Let the reader examine the "Life in Paris," or the five hundred designs in which Frenchmen are introduced, and he will find them almost invariably thin, with ludicrous spindle-shanks, pigtails, outstretched hands, shrugging shoulders, and queer hair and mustachios. He has the British idea of a Frenchman; and if he does not believe that the inhabitants of France are for the most part dancing-masters and barbers, yet takes care to depict such in preference, and would not speak too well of them. It is curious how these traditions endure. In France, at the present moment, the Englishman on the stage is the caricatured Englishman at the time of the war, with a shock red head, a long white coat, and invariable gaiters. Those who wish to study this subject should peruse Monsieur Paul de Kock's histories of "Lord Boulingrog" and "Lady Crockmilove." On the other hand, the old emigre has taken his station amongst us, and we doubt if a good British gallery would understand that such and such a character WAS a Frenchman unless he appeared in the ancient traditional costume. A curious book, called "Life in Paris," published in 1822, contains a number of the artist's plates in the aquatint style; and though we believe he had never been in that capital, the designs have a great deal of life in them, and pass muster very well. A villanous race of shoulder-shrugging mortals are his Frenchmen indeed. And the heroes of the tale, a certain Mr. Dick Wildfire, Squire Jenkins, and Captain O'Shuffleton, are made to show the true British superiority on every occasion when Britons and French are brought together. This book was one among the many that the designer's genius has caused to be popular; the plates are not carefully executed, but, being colored, have a pleasant, lively look. The same style was adopted in the once famous book called "Tom and Jerry, or Life in London," which must have a word of notice here, for, although by no means Mr. Cruikshank's best work, his reputation was extraordinarily raised by it. Tom and Jerry were as popular twenty years since as Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller now are; and often have we wished, while reading the biographies of the latter celebrated personages, that they had been described as well by Mr. Cruikshank's pencil as by Mr. Dickens's pen. As for Tom and Jerry, to show the mutability of human affairs and the evanescent nature of reputation, we have been to the British Museum and no less than five circulating libraries in quest of the book, and "Life in London," alas, is not to be found at any one of them. We can only, therefore, speak of the work from recollection, but have still a very clear remembrance of the leather gaiters of Jerry Hawthorn, the green spectacles of Logic, and the hooked nose of Corinthian Tom. They were the schoolboy's delight; and in the days when the work appeared we firmly believed the three heroes above named to be types of the most elegant, fashionable young fellows the town afforded, and thought their occupations and amusements were those of all high-bred English gentlemen. Tom knocking down the watchman at Temple Bar; Tom and Jerry dancing at Almack's; or flirting in the saloon at the theatre; at the night-houses, after the play; at Tom Cribb's, examining the silver cup then in the possession of that champion; at the chambers of Bob Logic, who, seated at a cabinet piano, plays a waltz to which Corinthian Tom and Kate are dancing; ambling gallantly in Rotten Row; or examining the poor fellow at Newgate who was having his chains knocked off before hanging: all these scenes remain indelibly engraved upon the mind, and so far we are independent of all the circulating libraries in London. As to the literary contents of the book, they have passed sheer away. It was, most likely, not particularly refined; nay, the chances are that it was absolutely vulgar. But it must have had some merit of its own, that is clear; it must have given striking descriptions of life in some part or other of London, for all London read it, and went to see it in its dramatic shape. The artist, it is said, wished to close the career of the three heroes by bringing them all to ruin, but the writer, or publishers, would not allow any such melancholy subjects to dash the merriment of the public, and we believe Tom, Jerry, and Logic, were married off at the end of the tale, as if they had been the most moral personages in the world. There is some goodness in this pity, which authors and the public are disposed to show towards certain agreeable, disreputable characters of romance. Who would mar the prospects of honest Roderick Random, or Charles Surface, or Tom Jones? only a very stern moralist indeed. And in regard of Jerry Hawthorn and that hero without a surname, Corinthian Tom, Mr. Cruikshank, we make little doubt, was glad in his heart that he was not allowed to have his own way. Soon after the "Tom and Jerry" and the "Life in Paris," Mr. Cruikshank produced a much more elaborate set of prints, in a work which was called "Points of Humor." These "Points" were selected from various comic works, and did not, we believe, extend beyond a couple of numbers, containing about a score of copper-plates. The collector of humorous designs cannot fail to have them in his portfolio, for they contain some of the very best efforts of Mr. Cruikshank's genius, and though not quite so highly labored as some of his later productions, are none the worse, in our opinion, for their comparative want of finish. All the effects are perfectly given, and the expression is as good as it could be in the most delicate engraving upon steel. The artist's style, too, was then completely formed; and, for our parts, we should say that we preferred his manner of 1825 to any other which he has adopted since. The first picture, which is called "The Point of Honor," illustrates the old story of the officer who, on being accused of cowardice for refusing to fight a duel, came among his brother officers and flung a lighted grenade down upon the floor, before which his comrades fled ignominiously. This design is capital, and the outward rush of heroes, walking, trampling, twisting, scuffling at the door, is in the best style of the grotesque. You see but the back of most of these gentlemen; into which, nevertheless, the artist has managed to throw an expression of ludicrous agony that one could scarcely have expected to find in such a part of the human figure. The next plate is not less good. It represents a couple who, having been found one night tipsy, and lying in the same gutter, were, by a charitable though misguided gentleman, supposed to be man and wife, and put comfortably to bed together. The morning came; fancy the surprise of this interesting pair when they awoke and discovered their situation. Fancy the manner, too, in which Cruikshank has depicted them, to which words cannot do justice. It is needless to state that this fortuitous and temporary union was followed by one more lasting and sentimental, and that these two worthy persons were married, and lived happily ever after. We should like to go through every one of these prints. There is the jolly miller, who, returning home at night, calls upon his wife to get him a supper, and falls to upon rashers of bacon and ale. How he gormandizes, that jolly miller! rasher after rasher, how they pass away frizzling and, smoking from the gridiron down that immense grinning gulf of a mouth. Poor wife! how she pines and frets, at that untimely hour of midnight to be obliged to fry, fry, fry perpetually, and minister to the monster's appetite. And yonder in the clock: what agonized face is that we see? By heavens, it is the squire of the parish. What business has he there? Let us not ask. Suffice it to say, that he has, in the hurry of the moment, left up stairs his br----; his--psha! a part of his dress, in short, with a number of bank-notes in the pockets. Look in the next page, and you will see the ferocious, bacon-devouring ruffian of a miller is actually causing this garment to be carried through the village and cried by the town-crier. And we blush to be obliged to say that the demoralized miller never offered to return the banknotes, although he was so mighty scrupulous in endeavoring to find an owner for the corduroy portfolio in which he had found them. Passing from this painful subject, we come, we regret to state, to a series of prints representing personages not a whit more moral. Burns's famous "Jolly Beggars" have all had their portraits drawn by Cruikshank. There is the lovely "hempen widow," quite as interesting and romantic as the famous Mrs. Sheppard, who has at the lamented demise of her husband adopted the very same consolation. "My curse upon them every one, They've hanged my braw John Highlandman; . . . . And now a widow I must mourn Departed joys that ne'er return; No comfort but a hearty can When I think on John Highlandman." Sweet "raucle carlin," she has none of the sentimentality of the English highwayman's lady; but being wooed by a tinker and "A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle Wha us'd to trystes and fairs to driddle," prefers the practical to the merely musical man. The tinker sings with a noble candor, worthy of a fellow of his strength of body and station in life-- "My bonnie lass, I work in brass, A tinker is my station; I've travell'd round all Christian ground In this my occupation. I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd In many a noble squadron; But vain they search'd when off I march'd To go an' clout the caudron." It was his ruling passion. What was military glory to him, forsooth? He had the greatest contempt for it, and loved freedom and his copper kettle a thousand times better--a kind of hardware Diogenes. Of fiddling he has no better opinion. The picture represents the "sturdy caird" taking "poor gut-scraper" by the beard,--drawing his "roosty rapier," and swearing to "speet him like a pliver" unless he would relinquish the bonnie lassie for ever-- "Wi' ghastly ee, poor tweedle-dee Upon his hunkers bended, An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, An' so the quarrel ended." Hark how the tinker apostrophizes the violinist, stating to the widow at the same time the advantages which she might expect from an alliance with himself:-- "Despise that shrimp, that withered imp, Wi' a' his noise and caperin'; And take a share with those that bear The budget and the apron! "And by that stowp, my faith an' houpe, An' by that dear Kilbaigie! If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, May I ne'er weet my craigie." Cruikshank's caird is a noble creature; his face and figure show him to be fully capable of doing and saying all that is above written of him. In the second part, the old tale of "The Three Hunchbacked Fiddlers" is illustrated with equal felicity. The famous classical dinners and duel in "Peregrine Pickle" are also excellent in their way; and the connoisseur of prints and etchings may see in the latter plate, and in another in this volume, how great the artist's mechanical skill is as an etcher. The distant view of the city in the duel, and of a market-place in "The Quack Doctor," are delightful specimens of the artist's skill in depicting buildings and backgrounds. They are touched with a grace, truth, and dexterity of workmanship that leave nothing to desire. We have before mentioned the man with the mouth, which appears in this number emblematical of gout and indigestion, in which the artist has shown all the fancy of Callot. Little demons, with long saws for noses, are making dreadful incisions into the toes of the unhappy sufferer; some are bringing pans of hot coals to keep the wounded member warm; a huge, solemn nightmare sits on the invalid's chest, staring solemnly into his eyes; a monster, with a pair of drumsticks, is banging a devil's tattoo on his forehead; and a pair of imps are nailing great tenpenny nails into his hands to make his happiness complete. The late Mr. Clark's excellent work, "Three Courses and a Dessert," was published at a time when the rage for comic stories was not so great as it since has been, and Messrs. Clark and Cruikshank only sold their hundreds where Messrs. Dickens and Phiz dispose of their thousands. But if our recommendation can in any way influence the reader, we would enjoin him to have a copy of the "Three Courses," that contains some of the best designs of our artist, and some of the most amusing tales in our language. The invention of the pictures, for which Mr. Clark takes credit to himself, says a great deal for his wit and fancy. Can we, for instance, praise too highly the man who invented that wonderful oyster? Examine him well; his beard, his pearl, his little round stomach, and his sweet smile. Only oysters know how to smile in this way; cool, gentle, waggish, and yet inexpressibly innocent and winning. Dando himself must have allowed such an artless native to go free, and consigned him to the glassy, cool, translucent wave again. In writing upon such subjects as these with which we have been furnished, it can hardly be expected that we should follow any fixed plan and order--we must therefore take such advantage as we may, and seize upon our subject when and wherever we can lay hold of him. For Jews, sailors, Irishmen, Hessian boots, little boys, beadles, policemen, tall life-guardsmen, charity children, pumps, dustmen, very short pantaloons, dandies in spectacles, and ladies with aquiline noses, remarkably taper waists, and wonderfully long ringlets, Mr. Cruikshank has a special predilection. The tribe of Israelites he has studied with amazing gusto; witness the Jew in Mr. Ainsworth's "Jack Sheppard," and the immortal Fagin of "Oliver Twist." Whereabouts lies the comic vis in these persons and things? Why should a beadle be comic, and his opposite a charity boy? Why should a tall life-guardsman have something in him essentially absurd? Why are short breeches more ridiculous than long? What is there particularly jocose about a pump, and wherefore does a long nose always provoke the beholder to laughter? These points may be metaphysically elucidated by those who list. It is probable that Mr. Cruikshank could not give an accurate definition of that which is ridiculous in these objects, but his instinct has told him that fun lurks in them, and cold must be the heart that can pass by the pantaloons of his charity boys, the Hessian boots of his dandies, and the fan-tail hats of his dustmen, without respectful wonder. He has made a complete little gallery of dustmen. There is, in the first place, the professional dustman, who, having in the enthusiastic exercise of his delightful trade, laid hands upon property not strictly his own, is pursued, we presume, by the right owner, from whom he flies as fast as his crooked shanks will carry him. What a curious picture it is--the horrid rickety houses in some dingy suburb of London, the grinning cobbler, the smothered butcher, the very trees which are covered with dust--it is fine to look at the different expressions of the two interesting fugitives. The fiery charioteer who belabors the poor donkey has still a glance for his brother on foot, on whom punishment is about to descend. And not a little curious is it to think of the creative power of the man who has arranged this little tale of low life. How logically it is conducted, how cleverly each one of the accessories is made to contribute to the effect of the whole. What a deal of thought and humor has the artist expended on this little block of wood; a large picture might have been painted out of the very same materials, which Mr. Cruikshank, out of his wondrous fund of merriment and observation, can afford to throw away upon a drawing not two inches long. From the practical dustmen we pass to those purely poetical. There are three of them who rise on clouds of their own raising, the very genii of the sack and shovel. Is there no one to write a sonnet to these?--and yet a whole poem was written about Peter Bell the wagoner, a character by no means so poetic. And lastly, we have the dustman in love: the honest fellow having seen a young beauty stepping out of a gin-shop on a Sunday morning, is pressing eagerly his suit. Gin has furnished many subjects to Mr. Cruikshank, who labors in his own sound and hearty way to teach his countrymen the dangers of that drink. In the "Sketch-Book" is a plate upon the subject, remarkable for fancy and beauty of design; it is called the "Gin Juggernaut," and represents a hideous moving palace, with a reeking still at the roof and vast gin-barrels for wheels, under which unhappy millions are crushed to death. An immense black cloud of desolation covers over the country through which the gin monster has passed, dimly looming through the darkness whereof you see an agreeable prospect of gibbets with men dangling, burnt houses, &c. The vast cloud comes sweeping on in the wake of this horrible body-crusher; and you see, by way of contrast, a distant, smiling, sunshiny tract of old English country, where gin as yet is not known. The allegory is as good, as earnest, and as fanciful as one of John Bunyan's, and we have often fancied there was a similarity between the men. The render will examine the work called "My Sketch-Book" with not a little amusement, and may gather from it, as we fancy, a good deal of information regarding the character of the individual man, George Cruikshank: what points strike his eye as a painter; what move his anger or admiration as a moralist; what classes he seems most especially disposed to observe, and what to ridicule. There are quacks of all kinds, to whom he has a mortal hatred; quack dandies, who assume under his pencil, perhaps in his eye, the most grotesque appearance possible--their hats grow larger, their legs infinitely more crooked and lean; the tassels of their canes swell out to a most preposterous size; the tails of their coats dwindle away, and finish where coat-tails generally begin. Let us lay a wager that Cruikshank, a man of the people if ever there was one, heartily hates and despises these supercilious, swaggering young gentlemen; and his contempt is not a whit the less laudable because there may be tant soit peu of prejudice in it. It is right and wholesome to scorn dandies, as Nelson said it was to hate Frenchmen; in which sentiment (as we have before said) George Cruikshank undoubtedly shares. In the "Sunday in London,"* Monsieur the Chef is instructing a kitchen-maid how to compound some rascally French kickshaw or the other--a pretty scoundrel truly! with what an air he wears that nightcap of his, and shrugs his lank shoulders, and chatters, and ogles, and grins: they are all the same, these mounseers; there are other two fellows--morbleu! one is putting his dirty fingers into the saucepan; there are frogs cooking in it, no doubt; and just over some other dish of abomination, another dirty rascal is taking snuff! Never mind, the sauce won't be hurt by a few ingredients more or less. Three such fellows as these are not worth one Englishman, that's clear. There is one in the very midst of them, the great burly fellow with the beef: he could beat all three in five minutes. We cannot be certain that such was the process going on in Mr. Cruikshank's mind when he made the design; but some feelings of the sort were no doubt entertained by him. * The following lines--ever fresh--by the author of "Headlong Hall," published years ago in the Globe and Traveller, are an excellent comment on several of the cuts from the "Sunday in London:"-- I. "The poor man's sins are glaring; In the face of ghostly warning He is caught in the fact Of an overt act, Buying greens on Sunday morning. II. "The rich man's sins are hidden In the pomp of wealth and station, And escape the sight Of the children of light, Who are wise in their generation. III. "The rich man has a kitchen, And cooks to dress his dinner; The poor who would roast, To the baker's must post, And thus becomes a sinner. IV. "The rich man's painted windows Hide the concerts of the quality; The poor can but share A crack'd fiddle in the air, Which offends all sound morality. V. "The rich man has a cellar, And a ready butler by him; The poor must steer For his pint of beer Where the saint can't choose but spy him. VI. "This rich man is invisible In the crowd of his gay society; But the poor man's delight Is a sore in the sight And a stench in the nose of piety." Against dandy footmen he is particularly severe. He hates idlers, pretenders, boasters, and punishes these fellows as best he may. Who does not recollect the famous picture, "What IS taxes, Thomas?" What is taxes indeed; well may that vast, over-fed, lounging flunky ask the question of his associate Thomas: and yet not well, for all that Thomas says in reply is, "I DON'T KNOW." "O beati PLUSHICOLAE," what a charming state of ignorance is yours! In the "Sketch-Book" many footmen make their appearance: one is a huge fat Hercules of a Portman Square porter, who calmly surveys another poor fellow, a porter likewise, but out of livery, who comes staggering forward with a box that Hercules might lift with his little finger. Will Hercules do so? not he. The giant can carry nothing heavier than a cocked-hat note on a silver tray, and his labors are to walk from his sentry-box to the door, and from the door back to his sentry-box, and to read the Sunday paper, and to poke the hall fire twice or thrice, and to make five meals a day. Such a fellow does Cruikshank hate and scorn worse even than a Frenchman. The man's master, too, comes in for no small share of our artist's wrath. There is a company of them at church, who humbly designate themselves "miserable sinners!" Miserable sinners indeed! Oh, what floods of turtle-soup, what tons of turbot and lobster-sauce must have been sacrificed to make those sinners properly miserable. My lady with the ermine tippet and draggling feather, can we not see that she lives in Portland Place, and is the wife of an East India Director? She has been to the Opera over-night (indeed her husband, on her right, with his fat hand dangling over the pew-door, is at this minute thinking of Mademoiselle Leocadie, whom he saw behind the scenes)--she has been at the Opera over-night, which with a trifle of supper afterwards--a white-and-brown soup, a lobster-salad, some woodcocks, and a little champagne--sent her to bed quite comfortable. At half-past eight her maid brings her chocolate in bed, at ten she has fresh eggs and muffins, with, perhaps, a half-hundred of prawns for breakfast, and so can get over the day and the sermon till lunch-time pretty well. What an odor of musk and bergamot exhales from the pew!--how it is wadded, and stuffed, and spangled over with brass nails! what hassocks are there for those who are not too fat to kneel! what a flustering and flapping of gilt prayer-books; and what a pious whirring of bible leaves one hears all over the church, as the doctor blandly gives out the text! To be miserable at this rate you must, at the very least, have four thousand a year: and many persons are there so enamored of grief and sin, that they would willingly take the risk of the misery to have a life-interest in the consols that accompany it, quite careless about consequences, and sceptical as to the notion that a day is at hand when you must fulfil YOUR SHARE OF THE BARGAIN. Our artist loves to joke at a soldier; in whose livery there appears to him to be something almost as ridiculous as in the uniform of the gentleman of the shoulder-knot. Tall life-guardsmen and fierce grenadiers figure in many of his designs, and almost always in a ridiculous way. Here again we have the honest popular English feeling which jeers at pomp or pretension of all kinds, and is especially jealous of all display of military authority. "Raw Recruit," "ditto dressed," ditto "served up," as we see them in the "Sketch-Book," are so many satires upon the army: Hodge with his ribbons flaunting in his hat, or with red coat and musket, drilled stiff and pompous, or at last, minus leg and arm, tottering about on crutches, does not fill our English artist with the enthusiasm that follows the soldier in every other part of Europe. Jeanjean, the conscript in France, is laughed at to be sure, but then it is because he is a bad soldier: when he comes to have a huge pair of mustachios and the croix-d'honneur to briller on his poitrine cicatrisee, Jeanjean becomes a member of a class that is more respected than any other in the French nation. The veteran soldier inspires our people with no such awe--we hold that democratic weapon the fist in much more honor than the sabre and bayonet, and laugh at a man tricked out in scarlet and pipe-clay. That regiment of heroes is "marching to divine service," to the tune of the "British Grenadiers." There they march in state, and a pretty contempt our artist shows for all their gimcracks and trumpery. He has drawn a perfectly English scene--the little blackguard boys are playing pranks round about the men, and shouting, "Heads up, soldier," "Eyes right, lobster," as little British urchins will do. Did one ever hear the like sentiments expressed in France? Shade of Napoleon, we insult you by asking the question. In England, however, see how different the case is: and designedly or undesignedly, the artist has opened to us a piece of his mind. In the crowd the only person who admires the soldiers is the poor idiot, whose pocket a rogue is picking. There is another picture, in which the sentiment is much the same, only, as in the former drawing we see Englishmen laughing at the troops of the line, here are Irishmen giggling at the militia. We have said that our artist has a great love for the drolleries of the Green Island. Would any one doubt what was the country of the merry fellows depicted in his group of Paddies? "Place me amid O'Rourkes, O'Tooles, The ragged royal race of Tara; Or place me where Dick Martin rules The pathless wilds of Connemara." We know not if Mr. Cruikshank has ever had any such good luck as to see the Irish in Ireland itself, but he certainly has obtained a knowledge of their looks, as if the country had been all his life familiar to him. Could Mr. O'Connell himself desire anything more national than the scene of a drunken row, or could Father Mathew have a better text to preach upon? There is not a broken nose in the room that is not thoroughly Irish. We have then a couple of compositions treated in a graver manner, as characteristic too as the other. We call attention to the comical look of poor Teague, who has been pursued and beaten by the witch's stick, in order to point out also the singular neatness of the workmanship, and the pretty, fanciful little glimpse of landscape that the artist has introduced in the background. Mr. Cruikshank has a fine eye for such homely landscapes, and renders them with great delicacy and taste. Old villages, farm-yards, groups of stacks, queer chimneys, churches, gable-ended cottages, Elizabethan mansion-houses, and other old English scenes, he depicts with evident enthusiasm. Famous books in their day were Cruikshank's "John Gilpin" and "Epping Hunt;" for though our artist does not draw horses very scientifically,--to use a phrase of the atelier,--he FEELS them very keenly; and his queer animals, after one is used to them, answer quite as well as better. Neither is he very happy in trees, and such rustical produce; or, rather, we should say, he is very original, his trees being decidedly of his own make and composition, not imitated from any master. But what then? Can a man be supposed to imitate everything? We know what the noblest study of mankind is, and to this Mr. Cruikshank has confined himself. That postilion with the people in the broken-down chaise roaring after him is as deaf as the post by which he passes. Suppose all the accessories were away, could not one swear that the man was stone-deaf, beyond the reach of trumpet? What is the peculiar character in a deaf man's physiognomy?--can any person define it satisfactorily in words?--not in pages; and Mr. Cruikshank has expressed it on a piece of paper not so big as the tenth part of your thumb-nail. The horses of John Gilpin are much more of the equestrian order; and as here the artist has only his favorite suburban buildings to draw, not a word is to be said against his design. The inn and old buildings are charmingly designed, and nothing can be more prettily or playfully touched. "At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wond'ring much To see how he did ride. "'Stop, stop, John Gilpin! Here's the house!' They all at once did cry; 'The dinner waits, and we are tired--' Said Gilpin--'So am I!' "Six gentlemen upon the road Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear, They raised the hue and cry:-- "'Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!' Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. "And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race." The rush, and shouting, and clatter are excellently depicted by the artist; and we, who have been scoffing at his manner of designing animals, must here make a special exception in favor of the hens and chickens; each has a different action, and is curiously natural. Happy are children of all ages who have such a ballad and such pictures as this in store for them! It is a comfort to think that woodcuts never wear out, and that the book still may be had for a shilling, for those who can command that sum of money. In the "Epping Hunt," which we owe to the facetious pen of Mr. Hood, our artist has not been so successful. There is here too much horsemanship and not enough incident for him; but the portrait of Roundings the huntsman is an excellent sketch, and a couple of the designs contain great humor. The first represents the Cockney hero, who, "like a bird, was singing out while sitting on a tree." And in the second the natural order is reversed. The stag having taken heart, is hunting the huntsman, and the Cheapside Nimrod is most ignominiously running away. The Easter Hunt, we are told, is no more; and as the Quarterly Review recommends the British public to purchase Mr. Catlin's pictures, as they form the only record of an interesting race now rapidly passing away, in like manner we should exhort all our friends to purchase Mr. Cruikshank's designs of ANOTHER interesting race, that is run already and for the last time. Besides these, we must mention, in the line of our duty, the notable tragedies of "Tom Thumb" and "Bombastes Furioso," both of which have appeared with many illustrations by Mr. Cruikshank. The "brave army" of Bombastes exhibits a terrific display of brutal force, which must shock the sensibilities of an English radical. And we can well understand the caution of the general, who bids this soldatesque effrenee to begone, and not to kick up a row. Such a troop of lawless ruffians let loose upon a populous city would play sad havoc in it; and we fancy the massacres of Birmingham renewed, or at least of Badajoz, which, though not quite so dreadful, if we may believe his Grace the Duke of Wellington, as the former scenes of slaughter, were nevertheless severe enough: but we must not venture upon any ill-timed pleasantries in presence of the disturbed King Arthur and the awful ghost of Gaffer Thumb. We are thus carried at once into the supernatural, and here we find Cruikshank reigning supreme. He has invented in his time a little comic pandemonium, peopled with the most droll, good-natured fiends possible. We have before us Chamisso's "Peter Schlemihl," with Cruikshank's designs translated into German, and gaining nothing by the change. The "Kinder und Hans-Maerchen" of Grimm are likewise ornamented with a frontispiece copied from that one which appeared to the amusing version of the English work. The books on Phrenology and Time have been imitated by the same nation; and even in France, whither reputation travels slower than to any country except China, we have seen copies of the works of George Cruikshank. He in return has complimented the French by illustrating a couple of Lives of Napoleon, and the "Life in Paris" before mentioned. He has also made designs for Victor Hugo's "Hans of Iceland." Strange, wild etchings were those, on a strange, mad subject; not so good in our notion as the designs for the German books, the peculiar humor of which latter seemed to suit the artist exactly. There is a mixture of the awful and the ridiculous in these, which perpetually excites and keeps awake the reader's attention; the German writer and the English artist seem to have an entire faith in their subject. The reader, no doubt, remembers the awful passage in "Peter Schlemihl," where the little gentleman purchases the shadow of that hero--"Have the kindness, noble sir, to examine and try this bag." "He put his hand into his pocket, and drew thence a tolerably large bag of Cordovan leather, to which a couple of thongs were fixed. I took it from him, and immediately counted out ten gold pieces, and ten more, and ten more, and still other ten, whereupon I held out my hand to him. Done, said I, it is a bargain; you shall have my shadow for your bag. The bargain was concluded; he knelt down before me, and I saw him with a wonderful neatness take my shadow from head to foot, lightly lift it up from the grass, roll and fold it up neatly, and at last pocket it. He then rose up, bowed to me once more, and walked away again, disappearing behind the rose bushes. I don't know, but I thought I heard him laughing a little. I, however, kept fast hold of the bag. Everything around me was bright in the sun, and as yet I gave no thought to what I had done." This marvellous event, narrated by Peter with such a faithful, circumstantial detail, is painted by Cruikshank in the most wonderful poetic way, with that happy mixture of the real and supernatural that makes the narrative so curious, and like truth. The sun is shining with the utmost brilliancy in a great quiet park or garden; there is a palace in the background, and a statue basking in the sun quite lonely and melancholy; there is a sun-dial, on which is a deep shadow, and in the front stands Peter Schlemihl, bag in hand: the old gentleman is down on his knees to him, and has just lifted off the ground the SHADOW OF ONE LEG; he is going to fold it back neatly, as one does the tails of a coat, and will stow it, without any creases or crumples, along with the other black garments that lie in that immense pocket of his. Cruikshank has designed all this as if he had a very serious belief in the story; he laughs, to be sure, but one fancies that he is a little frightened in his heart, in spite of all his fun and joking. The German tales we have mentioned before. "The Prince riding on the Fox," "Hans in Luck," "The Fiddler and his Goose," "Heads off," are all drawings which, albeit not before us now, nor seen for ten years, remain indelibly fixed on the memory. "Heisst du etwa Rumpelstilzchen?" There sits the Queen on her throne, surrounded by grinning beef-eaters, and little Rumpelstiltskin stamps his foot through the floor in the excess of his tremendous despair. In one of these German tales, if we remember rightly, there is an account of a little orphan who is carried away by a pitying fairy for a term of seven years, and passing that period of sweet apprenticeship among the imps and sprites of fairy-land. Has our artist been among the same company, and brought back their portraits in his sketch-book? He is the only designer fairy-land has had. Callot's imps, for all their strangeness, are only of the earth earthy. Fuseli's fairies belong to the infernal regions; they are monstrous, lurid, and hideously melancholy. Mr. Cruikshank alone has had a true insight into the character of the "little people." They are something like men and women, and yet not flesh and blood; they are laughing and mischievous, but why we know not. Mr. Cruikshank, however, has had some dream or the other, or else a natural mysterious instinct (as the Seherinn of Prevorst had for beholding ghosts), or else some preternatural fairy revelation, which has made him acquainted with the looks and ways of the fantastical subjects of Oberon and Titania. We have, unfortunately, no fairy portraits; but, on the other hand, can descend lower than fairy-land, and have seen some fine specimens of devils. One has already been raised, and the reader has seen him tempting a fat Dutch burgomaster, in an ancient gloomy market-place, such as George Cruikshank can draw as well as Mr. Prout, Mr. Nash, or any man living. There is our friend once more; our friend the burgomaster, in a highly excited state, and running as hard as his great legs will carry him, with our mutual enemy at his tail. What are the bets; will that long-legged bondholder of a devil come up with the honest Dutchman? It serves him right: why did he put his name to stamped paper? And yet we should not wonder if some lucky chance should turn up in the burgomaster's favor, and his infernal creditor lose his labor; for one so proverbially cunning as yonder tall individual with the saucer eyes, it must be confessed that he has been very often outwitted. There is, for instance, the case of "The Gentleman in Black," which has been illustrated by our artist. A young French gentleman, by name M. Desonge, who, having expended his patrimony in a variety of taverns and gaming-houses, was one day pondering upon the exhausted state of his finances, and utterly at a loss to think how he should provide means for future support, exclaimed, very naturally, "What the devil shall I do?" He had no sooner spoken than a GENTLEMAN IN BLACK made his appearance, whose authentic portrait Mr. Cruikshank has had the honor to paint. This gentleman produced a black-edged book out of a black bag, some black-edged papers tied up with black crape, and sitting down familiarly opposite M. Desonge, began conversing with him on the state of his affairs. It is needless to state what was the result of the interview. M. Desonge was induced by the gentleman to sign his name to one of the black-edged papers, and found himself at the close of the conversation to be possessed of an unlimited command of capital. This arrangement completed, the Gentleman in Black posted (in an extraordinarily rapid manner) from Paris to London, there found a young English merchant in exactly the same situation in which M. Desonge had been, and concluded a bargain with the Briton of exactly the same nature. The book goes on to relate how these young men spent the money so miraculously handed over to them, and how both, when the period drew near that was to witness the performance of THEIR part of the bargain, grew melancholy, wretched, nay, so absolutely dishonorable as to seek for every means of breaking through their agreement. The Englishman living in a country where the lawyers are more astute than any other lawyers in the world, took the advice of a Mr. Bagsby, of Lyon's Inn; whose name, as we cannot find it in the "Law List," we presume to be fictitious. Who could it be that was a match for the devil? Lord ---- very likely; we shall not give his name, but let every reader of this Review fill up the blank according to his own fancy, and on comparing it with the copy purchased by his neighbors, he will find that fifteen out of twenty have written down the same honored name. Well, the Gentleman in Black was anxious for the fulfilment of his bond. The parties met at Mr. Bagsby's chambers to consult, the Black Gentleman foolishly thinking that he could act as his own counsel, and fearing no attorney alive. But mark the superiority of British law, and see how the black pettifogger was defeated. Mr. Bagsby simply stated that he would take the case into Chancery, and his antagonist, utterly humiliated and defeated, refused to move a step farther in the matter. And now the French gentleman, M. Desonge, hearing of his friend's escape, became anxious to be free from his own rash engagements. He employed the same counsel who had been successful in the former instance, but the Gentleman in Black was a great deal wiser by this time, and whether M. Desonge escaped, or whether he is now in that extensive place which is paved with good intentions, we shall not say. Those who are anxious to know had better purchase the book wherein all these interesting matters are duly set down. There is one more diabolical picture in our budget, engraved by Mr. Thompson, the same dexterous artist who has rendered the former diableries so well. We may mention Mr. Thompson's name as among the first of the engravers to whom Cruikshank's designs have been entrusted; and next to him (if we may be allowed to make such arbitrary distinctions) we may place Mr. Williams; and the reader is not possibly aware of the immense difficulties to be overcome in the rendering of these little sketches, which, traced by the designer in a few hours, require weeks' labor from the engraver. Mr. Cruikshank has not been educated in the regular schools of drawing (very luckily for him, as we think), and consequently has had to make a manner for himself, which is quite unlike that of any other draftsman. There is nothing in the least mechanical about it; to produce his particular effects he uses his own particular lines, which are queer, free, fantastical, and must be followed in all their infinite twists and vagaries by the careful tool of the engraver. Those three lovely heads, for instance, imagined out of the rinds of lemons, are worth examining, not so much for the jovial humor and wonderful variety of feature exhibited in these darling countenances as for the engraver's part of the work. See the infinite delicate cross-lines and hatchings which he is obliged to render; let him go, not a hair's breadth, but the hundredth part of a hair's breadth, beyond the given line, and the FEELING of it is ruined. He receives these little dots and specks, and fantastical quirks of the pencil, and cuts away with a little knife round each, not too much nor too little. Antonio's pound of flesh did not puzzle the Jew so much; and so well does the engraver succeed at last, that we never remember to have met with a single artist who did not vow that the wood-cutter had utterly ruined his design. Of Messrs. Thompson and Williams we have spoken as the first engravers in point of rank; however, the regulations of professional precedence are certainly very difficult, and the rest of their brethren we shall not endeavor to class. Why should the artists who executed the cuts of the admirable "Three Courses" yield the pas to any one? There, for instance, is an engraving by Mr. Landells, nearly as good in our opinion as the very best woodcut that ever was made after Cruikshank, and curiously happy in rendering the artist's peculiar manner: this cut does not come from the facetious publications which we have consulted; but is a contribution by Mr. Cruikshank to an elaborate and splendid botanical work upon the Orchidaceae of Mexico, by Mr. Bateman. Mr. Bateman despatched some extremely choice roots of this valuable plant to a friend in England, who, on the arrival of the case, consigned it to his gardener to unpack. A great deal of anxiety with regard to the contents was manifested by all concerned, but on the lid of the box being removed, there issued from it three or four fine specimens of the enormous Blatta beetle that had been preying upon the plants during the voyage; against these the gardeners, the grooms, the porters, and the porters' children, issued forth in arms, and this scene the artist has immortalized. We have spoken of the admirable way in which Mr. Cruikshank has depicted Irish character and Cockney character; English country character is quite as faithfully delineated in the person of the stout porteress and her children, and of the "Chawbacon" with the shovel, on whose face is written "Zummerzetsheer." Chawbacon appears in another plate, or else Chawbacon's brother. He has come up to Lunnan, and is looking about him at raaces. How distinct are these rustics from those whom we have just been examining! They hang about the purlieus of the metropolis: Brook Green, Epsom, Greenwich, Ascot, Goodwood, are their haunts. They visit London professionally once a year, and that is at the time of Bartholomew fair. How one may speculate upon the different degrees of rascality, as exhibited in each face of the thimblerigging trio, and form little histories for these worthies, charming Newgate romances, such as have been of late the fashion! Is any man so blind that he cannot see the exact face that is writhing under the thhnblerigged hero's hat? Like Timanthes of old, our artist expresses great passions without the aid of the human countenance. There is another specimen--a street row of inebriated bottles. Is there any need of having a face after this? "Come on!" says Claret-bottle, a dashing, genteel fellow, with his hat on one ear--"Come on! has any man a mind to tap me?" Claret-bottle is a little screwed (as one may see by his legs), but full of gayety and courage; not so that stout, apoplectic Bottle-of-rum, who has staggered against the wall, and has his hand upon his liver: the fellow hurts himself with smoking, that is clear, and is as sick as sick can be. See, Port is making away from the storm, and Double X is as flat as ditch-water. Against these, awful in their white robes, the sober watchmen come. Our artist then can cover up faces, and yet show them quite clearly, as in the thimblerig group; or he can do without faces altogether; or he can, at a pinch, provide a countenance for a gentleman out of any given object--a beautiful Irish physiognomy being moulded upon a keg of whiskey; and a jolly English countenance frothing out of a pot of ale (the spirit of brave Toby Philpot come back to reanimate his clay); while in a fungus may be recognized the physiognomy of a mushroom peer. Finally, if he is at a loss, he can make a living head, body, and legs out of steel or tortoise-shell, as in the case of the vivacious pair of spectacles that are jockeying the nose of Caddy Cuddle. Of late years Mr. Cruikshank has busied himself very much with steel engraving, and the consequences of that lucky invention have been, that his plates are now sold by thousands, where they could only be produced by hundreds before. He has made many a bookseller's and author's fortune (we trust that in so doing he may not have neglected his own). Twelve admirable plates, furnished yearly to that facetious little publication, the Comic Almanac, have gained for it a sale, as we hear, of nearly twenty thousand copies. The idea of the work was novel; there was, in the first number especially, a great deal of comic power, and Cruikshank's designs were so admirable that the Almanac at once became a vast favorite with the public, and has so remained ever since. Besides the twelve plates, this almanac contains a prophetic woodcut, accompanying an awful Blarneyhum Astrologicum that appears in this and other almanacs. There is one that hints in pretty clear terms that with the Reform of Municipal Corporations the ruin of the great Lord Mayor of London is at hand. His lordship is meekly going to dine at an eightpenny ordinary, his giants in pawn, his men in armor dwindled to "one poor knight," his carriage to be sold, his stalwart aldermen vanished, his sheriffs, alas! and alas! in gaol! Another design shows that Rigdum, if a true, is also a moral and instructive prophet. John Bull is asleep, or rather in a vision; the cunning demon, Speculation, blowing a thousand bright bubbles about him. Meanwhile the rooks are busy at his fob, a knave has cut a cruel hole in his pocket, a rattlesnake has coiled safe round his feet, and will in a trice swallow Bull, chair, money and all; the rats are at his corn-bags (as if, poor devil, he had corn to spare); his faithful dog is bolting his leg-of-mutton--nay, a thief has gotten hold of his very candle, and there, by way of moral, is his ale-pot, which looks and winks in his face, and seems to say, O Bull, all this is froth, and a cruel satirical picture of a certain rustic who had a goose that laid certain golden eggs, which goose the rustic slew in expectation of finding all the eggs at once. This is goose and sage too, to borrow the pun of "learned Doctor Gill;" but we shrewdly suspect that Mr. Cruikshank is becoming a little conservative in his notions. We love these pictures so that it is hard to part us, and we still fondly endeavor to hold on, but this wild word, farewell, must be spoken by the best friends at last, and so good-by, brave woodcuts: we feel quite a sadness in coming to the last of our collection. In the earlier numbers of the Comic Almanac all the manners and customs of Londoners that would afford food for fun were noted down; and if during the last two years the mysterious personage who, under the title of "Rigdum Funnidos," compiles this ephemeris, has been compelled to resort to romantic tales, we must suppose that he did so because the great metropolis was exhausted, and it was necessary to discover new worlds in the cloud-land of fancy. The character of Mr. Stubbs, who made his appearance in the Almanac for 1839, had, we think, great merit, although his adventures were somewhat of too tragical a description to provoke pure laughter. We should be glad to devote a few pages to the "Illustrations of Time," the "Scraps and Sketches," and the "Illustrations of Phrenology," which are among the most famous of our artist's publications; but it is very difficult to find new terms of praise, as find them one must, when reviewing Mr. Cruikshank's publications, and more difficult still (as the reader of this notice will no doubt have perceived for himself long since) to translate his design into words, and go to the printer's box for a description of all that fun and humor which the artist can produce by a few skilful turns of his needle. A famous article upon the "Illustrations of Time" appeared some dozen years since in Blackwood's Magazine, of which the conductors have always been great admirers of our artist, as became men of honor and genius. To these grand qualities do not let it be supposed that we are laying claim, but, thank heaven, Cruikshank's humor is so good and benevolent that any man must love it, and on this score we may speak as well as another. Then there are the "Greenwich Hospital" designs, which must not be passed over. "Greenwich Hospital" is a hearty, good-natured book, in the Tom Dibdin school, treating of the virtues of British tars, in approved nautical language. They maul Frenchmen and Spaniards, they go out in brigs and take frigates, they relieve women in distress, and are yard-arm and yard-arming, athwart-hawsing, marlinspiking, binnacling, and helm's-a-leeing, as honest seamen invariably do, in novels, on the stage, and doubtless on board ship. This we cannot take upon us to say, but the artist, like a true Englishman, as he is, loves dearly these brave guardians of Old England, and chronicles their rare or fanciful exploits with the greatest good-will. Let any one look at the noble head of Nelson in the "Family Library," and they will, we are sure, think with us that the designer must have felt and loved what he drew. There are to this abridgment of Southey's admirable book many more cuts after Cruikshank; and about a dozen pieces by the same hand will be found in a work equally popular, Lockhart's excellent "Life of Napoleon." Among these the retreat from Moscow is very fine; the Mamlouks most vigorous, furious, and barbarous, as they should be. At the end of these three volumes Mr. Cruikshank's contributions to the "Family Library" seem suddenly to have ceased. We are not at all disposed to undervalue the works and genius of Mr. Dickens, and we are sure that he would admit as readily as any man the wonderful assistance that he has derived from the artist who has given us the portraits of his ideal personages, and made them familiar to all the world. Once seen, these figures remain impressed on the memory, which otherwise would have had no hold upon them, and the heroes and heroines of Boz become personal acquaintances with each of us. Oh, that Hogarth could have illustrated Fielding in the same way! and fixed down on paper those grand figures of Parson Adams, and Squire Allworthy, and the great Jonathan Wild. With regard to the modern romance of "Jack Sheppard," in which the latter personage makes a second appearance, it seems to us that Mr. Cruikshank really created the tale, and that Mr. Ainsworth, as it were, only put words to it. Let any reader of the novel think over it for a while, now that it is some months since he has perused and laid it down--let him think, and tell us what he remembers of the tale? George Cruikshank's pictures--always George Cruikshank's pictures. The storm in the Thames, for instance: all the author's labored description of that event has passed clean away--we have only before the mind's eye the fine plates of Cruikshank: the poor wretch cowering under the bridge arch, as the waves come rushing in, and the boats are whirling away in the drift of the great swollen black waters. And let any man look at that second plate of the murder on the Thames, and he must acknowledge how much more brilliant the artist's description is than the writer's, and what a real genius for the terrible as well as for the ridiculous the former has; how awful is the gloom of the old bridge, a few lights glimmering from the houses here and there, but not so as to be reflected on the water at all, which is too turbid and raging: a great heavy rack of clouds goes sweeping over the bridge, and men with flaring torches, the murderers, are borne away with the stream. The author requires many pages to describe the fury of the storm, which Mr. Cruikshank has represented in one. First, he has to prepare you with the something inexpressibly melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames: "the ripple of the water," "the darkling current," "the indistinctively seen craft," "the solemn shadows" and other phenomena visible on rivers at night are detailed (with not unskilful rhetoric) in order to bring the reader into a proper frame of mind for the deeper gloom and horror which is to ensue. Then follow pages of description. "As Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a war like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. A moment before the surface of the stream was as black as ink. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething, like an enormous caldron. The blast once more swept over the agitated river, whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Destruction everywhere marked the course of the gale. Steeples toppled and towers reeled beneath its fury. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Men fled from their tottering habitations and returned to them, scared by greater danger. The end of the world seemed at hand. . . . The hurricane had now reached its climax. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. He who had faced the gale WOULD HAVE BEEN INSTANTLY STIFLED," &c. &c. See with what a tremendous war of words (and good loud words too; Mr. Ainsworth's description is a good and spirited one) the author is obliged to pour in upon the reader before he can effect his purpose upon the latter, and inspire him with a proper terror. The painter does it at a glance, and old Wood's dilemma in the midst of that tremendous storm, with the little infant at his bosom, is remembered afterwards, not from the words, but from the visible image of them that the artist has left us. It would not, perhaps, be out of place to glance through the whole of the "Jack Sheppard" plates, which are among the most finished and the most successful of Mr. Cruikshank's performances, and say a word or two concerning them. Let us begin with finding fault with No. 1, "Mr. Wood offers to adopt little Jack Sheppard." A poor print, on a poor subject; the figure of the woman not as carefully designed as it might be, and the expression of the eyes (not an uncommon fault with our artist) much caricatured. The print is cut up, to use the artist's phrase, by the number of accessories which the engraver has thought proper, after the author's elaborate description, elaborately to reproduce. The plate of "Wild discovering Darrell in the loft" is admirable--ghastly, terrible, and the treatment of it extraordinarily skilful, minute, and bold. The intricacies of the tile-work, and the mysterious twinkling of light among the beams, are excellently felt and rendered; and one sees here, as in the two next plates of the storm and murder, what a fine eye the artist has, what a skilful hand, and what a sympathy for the wild and dreadful. As a mere imitation of nature, the clouds and the bridge in the murder picture may be examined by painters who make far higher pretensions than Mr. Cruikshank. In point of workmanship they are equally good, the manner quite unaffected, the effect produced without any violent contrast, the whole scene evidently well and philosophically arranged in the artist's brain, before he began to put it upon copper. The famous drawing of "Jack carving the name on the beam," which has been transferred to half the play-bills in town, is overloaded with accessories, as the first plate; but they are much better arranged than in the last-named engraving, and do not injure the effect of the principal figure. Remark, too, the conscientiousness of the artist, and that shrewd pervading idea of FORM which is one of his principal characteristics. Jack is surrounded by all sorts of implements of his profession; he stands on a regular carpenter's table: away in the shadow under it lie shavings and a couple of carpenter's hampers. The glue-pot, the mallet, the chisel-handle, the planes, the saws, the hone with its cover, and the other paraphernalia are all represented with extraordinary accuracy and forethought. The man's mind has retained the exact DRAWING of all these minute objects (unconsciously perhaps to himself), but we can see with what keen eyes he must go through the world, and what a fund of facts (as such a knowledge of the shape of objects is in his profession) this keen student of nature has stored away in his brain. In the next plate, where Jack is escaping from his mistress, the figure of that lady, one of the deepest of the [Greek text omitted], strikes us as disagreeable and unrefined; that of Winifred is, on the contrary, very pretty and graceful; and Jack's puzzled, slinking look must not be forgotten. All the accessories are good, and the apartment has a snug, cosy air; which is not remarkable, except that it shows how faithfully the designer has performed his work, and how curiously he has entered into all the particulars of the subject. Master Thames Darrell, the handsome young man of the book, is, in Mr. Cruikshank's portraits of him, no favorite of ours. The lad seems to wish to make up for the natural insignificance of his face by frowning on all occasions most portentously. This figure, borrowed from the compositor's desk, will give a notion of what we mean. Wild's face is too violent for the great man of history (if we may call Fielding history), but this is in consonance with the ranting, frowning, braggadocio character that Mr. Ainsworth has given him. The "Interior of Willesden Church" is excellent as a composition, and a piece of artistical workmanship; the groups are well arranged; and the figure of Mrs. Sheppard looking round alarmed, as her son is robbing the dandy Kneebone, is charming, simple, and unaffected. Not so "Mrs. Sheppard ill in bed," whose face is screwed up to an expression vastly too tragic. The little glimpse of the church seen through the open door of the room is very beautiful and poetical: it is in such small hints that an artist especially excels; they are the morals which he loves to append to his stories, and are always appropriate and welcome. The boozing ken is not to our liking; Mrs. Sheppard is there with her horrified eyebrows again. Why this exaggeration--is it necessary for the public? We think not, or if they require such excitement, let our artist, like a true painter as he is, teach them better things.* * A gentleman (whose wit is so celebrated that one should be very cautious in repeating his stories) gave the writer a good illustration of the philosophy of exaggeration. Mr. -- -- was once behind the scenes at the Opera when the scene- shifters were preparing for the ballet. Flora was to sleep under a bush, whereon were growing a number of roses, and amidst which was fluttering a gay covey of butterflies. In size the roses exceeded the most expansive sunflowers, and the butterflies were as large as cocked hats;--the scene -shifter explained to Mr. ----, who asked the reason why everything was so magnified, that the galleries could never see the objects unless they were enormously exaggerated. How many of our writers and designers work for the galleries? The "Escape from Willesden Cage" is excellent; the "Burglary in Wood's house" has not less merit; "Mrs. Sheppard in Bedlam," a ghastly picture indeed, is finely conceived, but not, as we fancy, so carefully executed; it would be better for a little more careful drawing in the female figure. "Jack sitting for his picture" is a very pleasing group, and savors of the manner of Hogarth, who is introduced in the company. The "Murder of Trenchard" must be noticed too as remarkable for the effect and terrible vigor which the artist has given to the scene. The "Willesden Churchyard" has great merit too, but the gems of the book are the little vignettes illustrating the escape from Newgate. Here, too, much anatomical care of drawing is not required; the figures are so small that the outline and attitude need only to be indicated, and the designer has produced a series of figures quite remarkable for reality and poetry too. There are no less than ten of Jack's feats so described by Mr. Cruikshank. (Let us say a word here in praise of the excellent manner in which the author has carried us through the adventure.) Here is Jack clattering up the chimney, now peering into the lonely red room, now opening "the door between the red room and the chapel." What a wild, fierce, scared look he has, the young ruffian, as cautiously he steps in, holding light his bar of iron. You can see by his face how his heart is beating! If any one were there! but no! And this is a very fine characteristic of the prints, the extreme LONELINESS of them all. Not a soul is there to disturb him--woe to him who should--and Jack drives in the chapel gate, and shatters down the passage door, and there you have him on the leads. Up he goes! it is but a spring of a few feet from the blanket, and he is gone--abiit, evasit, erupit! Mr. Wild must catch him again if he can. We must not forget to mention "Oliver Twist," and Mr. Cruikshank's famous designs to that work.* The sausage scene at Fagin's, Nancy seizing the boy; that capital piece of humor, Mr. Bumble's courtship, which is even better in Cruikshank's version than in Boz's exquisite account of the interview; Sykes's farewell to the dog; and the Jew,--the dreadful Jew--that Cruikshank drew! What a fine touching picture of melancholy desolation is that of Sykes and the dog! The poor cur is not too well drawn, the landscape is stiff and formal; but in this case the faults, if faults they be, of execution rather add to than diminish the effect of the picture: it has a strange, wild, dreary, broken -hearted look; we fancy we see the landscape as it must have appeared to Sykes, when ghastly and with bloodshot eyes he looked at it. As for the Jew in the dungeon, let us say nothing of it--what can we say to describe it? What a fine homely poet is the man who can produce this little world of mirth or woe for us! Does he elaborate his effects by slow process of thought, or do they come to him by instinct? Does the painter ever arrange in his brain an image so complete, that he afterwards can copy it exactly on the canvas, or does the hand work in spite of him? * Or his new work, "The Tower of London," which promises even to surpass Mr. Cruikshank's former productions. A great deal of this random work of course every artist has done in his time; many men produce effects of which they never dreamed, and strike off excellences, haphazard, which gain for them reputation; but a fine quality in Mr. Cruikshank, the quality of his success, as we have said before, is the extraordinary earnestness and good faith with which he executes all he attempts--the ludicrous, the polite, the low, the terrible. In the second of these he often, in our fancy, fails, his figures lacking elegance and descending to caricature; but there is something fine in this too: it is good that he SHOULD fail, that he should have these honest naive notions regarding the beau monde, the characteristics of which a namby-pamby tea-party painter could hit off far better than he. He is a great deal too downright and manly to appreciate the flimsy delicacies of small society--you cannot expect a lion to roar you like any sucking dove, or frisk about a drawing-room like a lady's little spaniel. If then, in the course of his life and business, he has been occasionally obliged to imitate the ways of such small animals, he has done so, let us say it at once, clumsily, and like as a lion should. Many artists, we hear, hold his works rather cheap; they prate about bad drawing, want of scientific knowledge:--they would have something vastly more neat, regular, anatomical. Not one of the whole band most likely but can paint an Academy figure better than himself; nay, or a portrait of an alderman's lady and family of children. But look down the list of the painters and tell us who are they? How many among these men are POETS (makers), possessing the faculty to create, the greatest among the gifts with which Providence has endowed the mind of man? Say how many there are, count up what they have done, and see what in the course of some nine-and-twenty years has been done by this indefatigable man. What amazing energetic fecundity do we find in him! As a boy he began to fight for bread, has been hungry (twice a day we trust) ever since, and has been obliged to sell his wit for his bread week by week. And his wit, sterling gold as it is, will find no such purchasers as the fashionable painter's thin pinchbeck, who can live comfortably for six weeks, when paid for and painting a portrait, and fancies his mind prodigiously occupied all the while. There was an artist in Paris, an artist hairdresser, who used to be fatigued and take restoratives after inventing a new coiffure. By no such gentle operation of head-dressing has Cruikshank lived: time was (we are told so in print) when for a picture with thirty heads in it he was paid three guineas--a poor week's pittance truly, and a dire week's labor. We make no doubt that the same labor would at present bring him twenty times the sum; but whether it be ill paid or well, what labor has Mr. Cruikshank's been! Week by week, for thirty years, to produce something new; some smiling offspring of painful labor, quite independent and distinct from its ten thousand jovial brethren; in what hours of sorrow and ill-health to be told by the world, "Make us laugh or you starve--Give us fresh fun; we have eaten up the old and are hungry." And all this has he been obliged to do--to wring laughter day by day, sometimes, perhaps, out of want, often certainly from ill-health or depression--to keep the fire of his brain perpetually alight: for the greedy public will give it no leisure to cool. This he has done and done well. He has told a thousand truths in as many strange and fascinating ways; he has given a thousand new and pleasant thoughts to millions of people; he has never used his wit dishonestly; he has never, in all the exuberance of his frolicsome humor, caused a single painful or guilty blush: how little do we think of the extraordinary power of this man, and how ungrateful we are to him! Here, as we are come round to the charge of ingratitude, the starting-post from which we set out, perhaps we had better conclude. The reader will perhaps wonder at the high-flown tone in which we speak of the services and merits of an individual, whom he considers a humble scraper on steel, that is wonderfully popular already. But none of us remember all the benefits we owe him; they have come one by one, one driving out the memory of the other: it is only when we come to examine them all together, as the writer has done, who has a pile of books on the table before him--a heap of personal kindnesses from George Cruikshank (not presents, if you please, for we bought, borrowed, or stole every one of them)--that we feel what we owe him. Look at one of Mr. Cruikshank's works, and we pronounce him an excellent humorist. Look at all: his reputation is increased by a kind of geometrical progression; as a whole diamond is a hundred times more valuable than the hundred splinters into which it might be broken would be. A fine rough English diamond is this about which we have been writing. 
35874	----	MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: SHAKSPEARE ILLUSTRATED "Tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man." _King John._ Act III., Sc. 4.] * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA OR THE LIGHTER SIDE OF LITERARY, ARTISTIC AND PROFESSIONAL LIFE [Illustration] AS PICTURED BY PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, DUDLEY HARDY, FRED PEGRAM, F. H. TOWNSEND, LEWIS BAUMER, L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, H. M. BROCK, C. E. BROCK, TOM BROWNE, GUNNING KING, HARRY FURNISS, A. WALLIS MILLS, G. L. STAMPA, AND OTHERS _156 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five Volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * THE WAY TO BOHEMIA [Illustration] Time was when Bohemianism was synonymous with soiled linen and unkempt locks. But those days of the ragged Bohemia have happily passed away, and that land of unconventional life--which had finally grown conventional in its characteristics--has now become "a sphere of influence" of Modern Society! In a word, it is now respectable. There are those who firmly believe it has been wiped off the social map. The dress suit and the proprieties are thought by some to be incompatible with its existence. But it is not so; the new Bohemia is surely no less delightful than the old. The way to it is through the doors of almost any of the well-known literary and art clubs of London. Its inhabitants are our artists, our men of letters, our musicians, and, above all, our actors. In the present volume we are under the guidance of Mr. Punch, himself the very flower of London's Bohemia, into this land of light-hearted laughter and the free-and-easy manner of living. We shall follow him chiefly through the haunts of the knights of the pen and pencil, as we have another engagement to spend some agreeable hours with him in the theatrical and musical world. It should be noted, however, that we shall not be limited to what has been called "Upper Bohemia", but that we shall, thanks to his vast experience, be able to peep both at the old and new. Easily first amongst the artists who have depicted the humours of Bohemia is Phil May. Keene and Du Maurier run him close, but their Bohemia is on the whole more artistic, less breezily, raggedly, hungrily unconventional than his. It is a subject that has inspired him with some of his best jokes, and some of his finest drawings. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] MR. PUNCH IN BOHEMIA THE INVALID AUTHOR.--_Wife._ "Why, nurse is reading a book, darling! Who gave it her?" _Husband._ "_I_ did, my dear." _Wife._ "What book is it?" _Husband._ "It's my last." _Wife._ "Darling! When you _knew_ how important it is that _she shouldn't go to sleep_!" * * * * * A BOOKWORM'S OBSERVATION.--When a man has got turned of 70, he is in the appendix of life. * * * * * TABLE OF CONTENTS.--The dinner table. * * * * * [Illustration: THE GRUB AND THE BUTTERFLY I. "All right, sir. I'll just wash 'er face, sir, and then she shall come round to your stoodio, sir." II. "Here's a little girl come for you, sir!"] * * * * * PUNCH'S PROVERBS Most sticks have two ends, and a muff gets hold of the wrong one. The good boy studies his lesson; the bad boy gets it. If sixpence were sunshine, it would never be lost in the giving. The man that is happy in all things will rejoice in potatoes. Three removes are better than a dessert. Dinner deferred maketh the hungry man mad. Bacon without liver is food for the mind. Forty winks or five million is one sleep. You don't go to the Mansion House for skilligolee. Three may keep counsel if they retain a barrister. What is done cannot be underdone. You can't make a pair of shoes out of a pig's tail. Dinner hour is worth every other, except bedtime. No hairdresser puts grease into a wise man's head. An upright judge for a downright rogue. Happiness is the hindmost horse in the Derby. Look before you sit. Bear and forebear is Bruin and tripe. Believe twice as much as you hear of a lady's age. Content is the conjuror that turns mock-turtle into real. There is no one who perseveres in well-doing like a thorough humbug. The loosest fish that drinks is tight. Education won't polish boots. Experience is the mother of gumption. Half-a-crown is better than no bribe. Utopia hath no law. There is no cruelty in whipping cream. Care will kill a cat; carelessness a Christian. He who lights his candle at both ends, spills grease. Keep your jokes to yourself, and repeat other people's. * * * * * THE BEST TEXT-BOOK FOR PUGILISTS.--Knox on anatomy. * * * * * ACROBATS' TIPPLE.--Champagne in tumblers. * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_Fond Mother._ "I _do_ wish you would look over some of my little boy's sketches, and give me your candid opinion on them. They strike me as perfectly marvellous for one so young. The other day he drew a horse and cart, and, I can assure you, you could scarcely tell the difference."] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR SMOKING CONCERT _Irate Member._ "Well, I'll take my oath I came in a hat!"] * * * * * EDITORS ["Editors, behind their officialism, are human just like other folks, for they think and they work, they laugh and they play, they marry--just as others do. The best of them are brimful of human nature, sympathetic and kindly, and full of the zest of life and its merry ways."--_Round About_.] To look at, the ordinary editor is so like a human being that it takes an expert to tell the difference. When quite young they make excellent pets, but for some strange reason people never confess that they have editors in the house. Marriage is not uncommon among editors, and monogamy is the rule rather than the exception. The chief hobby of an editor is the collection of stamped addressed envelopes, which are sent to him in large numbers. No one knows why he should want so many of these, but we believe he is under the impression that by collecting a million of them he will be able to get a child into some hospital. Of course in these enlightened days it is illegal to shoot editors, while to destroy their young is tantamount to murder. * * * * * [Illustration: _Country Cousin_ (_looking at Index of R. A. Catalogue_). "Uncle, what does 1, 3, 6, 8, after a man's name, mean?" _Uncle_ (_who has been dragged there much against his will_). "Eh! What? 1, 3---- Oh, _Telephone number_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE ARTIST'S ROOM.--_Potztausend._ "My friend, it is kolossal! most remark-worthy! You remind me on Rubinstein; but you are better as he." _Pianist (pleased)._ "Indeed! How?" _Potztausend._ "In de bersbiration. My friend Rubinstein could never bersbire so moch!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BROTHERS IN ART.--_New Arrival._ "What should I charge for teaching ze pianoforte?" _Old Stager._ "Oh, I don't know." _N. A._ "Vell, tell me vot _you_ charge." _O. S._ "_I_ charge five guineas a lesson." _N. A._ "Himmel! how many pupils have you got?" _O. S._ "Oh, I have no pupils!"] * * * * * A DIVISION OF LABOUR ["_Journalism._--Gentleman (barrister) offers furnished bedroom in comfortable, cheerful chambers in Temple in return for equivalent journalistic assistance, &c."--_Times._] The "equivalent" is rather a nice point. _Mr. Punch_ suggests for other gentlemen barristers the following table of equivalence:-- 1 furnished bedroom. = {1 introduction (by letter) to {sub-editor of daily paper. 1 furnished bedroom} = {1 introduction (personal) to with use of bath. } {sub-editor. {1 introduction and interview 1 bed-sitting-room. = { (five minutes guaranteed) {with editor. 2 furnished rooms.} = {1 lunch (cold) with Dr. {Robertson Nicoll. 2 furnished rooms, with} = {1 lunch (hot) with Dr. Nicoll use of bath. } {and Claudius Clear. 1 furnished flat, with } {1 bridge night with Lord all modern conveniences,} = {Northcliffe, Sir George electric light, } {Newnes, and Mr. C. A. trams to the corner, &c.} {Pearson. * * * * * When is an author most likely to be sick of his own writing? When he's regularly _in the swing_. * * * * * [Illustration: DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Griggs_ (_to caricaturist_). "By Jove, old feller, I wish you'd been with me this morning; you'd have seen such a funny looking chap!"] * * * * * [Illustration: (_Model wishing to say something pleasant._) "You must have painted uncommonly well when you were young!"] * * * * * DINNER AND DRESS.--Full dress is not incompatible with low dress. At dinner it is not generally the roast or the boiled that are not dressed enough. If young men are raw, that does not much signify but it is not nice to see girls underdone. * * * * * A CHEAP BATH.--A farthing dip. * * * * * "LIGHT DUES."--Photographers' charges. * * * * * "LETTERED EASE."--The catalogue of the British Museum. * * * * * A PROFESSIONAL VIEW OF THINGS.--Trecalfe, our bookseller, who has recently got married, says of his wife, that he feels that her life is bound up in his. * * * * * TAVERN WINE MEASURE 2 sips make 1 glass. 2 glasses make 1 pint. 2 pints makes 1 quart bottle. 1 bottle makes one ill. * * * * * THE BOARDING-OUT SYSTEM.--Dining at the club. * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Mashem._ "_Bull-bull_ and I have been sitting for our photographs as 'Beauty and the Beast'!" _Lord Loreus_ (_a bit of a fancier_). "Yes; he certainly _is_ a beauty, isn't he?"] * * * * * SHORT RULES FOR CALCULATION.--_To Find the Value of a Dozen Articles._--Send them to a magazine, and double the sum offered by the proprietor. _Another Way._--Send them to the butterman, who will not only fix their value, but their weight, at per pound. _To Find the Value of a Pound at any price._--Try to borrow one, when you are desperately hard up. * * * * * _Member of the Lyceum Club._ Have you read Tolstoi's "Resurrection"? _Member of the Cavalry Club._ No. Is that the name of Marie Corelli's new book? * * * * * CONVIVIAL TOAST (_For a Temperance Fête_) FILL high: Drink _L'eau_. * * * * * _First Reveller_ (_on the following morning_). "I say, is it true you were the only sober man last night?" _Second Reveller._ "Of course not!" _First Reveller._ "Who was, then?" * * * * * AN UGLY BARGAIN.--A cheap bull-dog. * * * * * [Illustration: THE DUMAS CRAZE _Brown_ (_who, with his friends Jones and Robinson, is in town for a week and is "going it"_). "Now, Mr. Costumier, we are going to this 'ere ball, and we want you to make us hup as the Three Musketeers!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CHEERFUL PROSPECT.--_Jones._ "I say, Miss Golightly, it's awfully good of you to accompany me, you know. If I've tried this song once, I've tried it a dozen times--_and I've always broken down in the third verse!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: BEYOND PRAISE.--_Roscius._ "But you haven't got a word of praise for anyone. I should like to know who you would consider a finished artist?" _Criticus._ "A dead one, my boy--a dead one!"] * * * * * STALE NEWS FRESHLY TOLD.--A physician cannot obtain recovery of his fees, although he may cause the recovery of his patient. Dress may be seized for rent, and a coat without cuffs may be collared by the broker. A married woman can acquire nothing, the proper tie of marriage making all she has the proper-ty of her husband. You may purchase any stamp at the stamp-office, except the stamp of a gentleman. Pawnbrokers take such enormous interest in their little pledges, that if they were really pledges of affection, the interest taken could hardly be exceeded. * * * * * THE AUTHORS OF OUR OWN PLEASURES.--Next to the pleasure of having done a good action, there is nothing so sweet as the pleasure of having written a good article! * * * * * CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.--When the organ nuisance shall have been swept away from our streets, that fearful instrument of ear-piercing torture called the hurdy-gurdy will then (thank Parliament!) be known as the _un-heardy_-gurdy. * * * * * [Illustration: MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * A FEW GOLDEN RULES TRANSMUTED INTO BRASS THE GOLDEN RULE. 1. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. 2. Never trouble another for a trifle which you can do yourself. 3. Never spend your money before you have it, if you would make the most of your means. 4. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly. THE BRAZEN RULE. 1. Put off till to-morrow the dun who won't be done to-day. 2. When another would trouble you for a trifle, never trouble yourself. 3. Spend your money before you have it; and when you have it, spend it again, for by so doing you enjoy your means twice, instead of only once. 4. You have only to do a creditor willingly, and he will never be troublesome. * * * * * A LITERARY PURSUIT.--Chasing a newspaper in a high wind. * * * * * [Illustration: THE TRUE TEST.-- _First Screever_ (_stopping before a pastel in a picture dealer's window_). "Ullo 'Erbert, look 'ere! Chalks!" _Second Screever._ "Ah, very tricky, I dessay. But you set that chap on the pivement alongside o' you an' me, to dror 'arf a salmon an' a nempty 'at, an' where 'ud 'e be?" _First Screever._ "Ah!"] [_Exeunt ambo._ * * * * * MUSICAL NEWS (NOOSE).--We perceive from a foreign paper that a criminal who has been imprisoned for a considerable period at Presburg has acquired a complete mastery over the violin. It has been announced that he will shortly make an appearance in public. Doubtless, his performance will be _a solo on one string_. * * * * * _Sporting Prophet_ (_playing billiards_). Marker, here's the tip off this cue as usual. _Marker._ Yes, sir. Better give us one of your "tips," sir, as _they never come off_. * * * * * ART DOGMA.--An artist's wife never admires her husband's work so much as when he is drawing her a cheque. * * * * * THE UNITED EFFORT OF SIX ROYAL ACADEMICIANS.--What colour is it that contains several? An umber (_a number_). * * * * * MEM. AT BURLINGTON HOUSE.--A picture may be "capitally executed" without of necessity being "well hung." And _vice versâ_. * * * * * A SCHISM TO BE APPROVED OF.--A witticism. * * * * * [Illustration: EXCELSIOR!-- _She._ "I didn't know you were a _musician_, Herr Müller." _He._ "A musician? Ach, no--Gott vorpit! I am a _Wagnerian_!"] * * * * * AN AUTHOR'S CRY OF AGONY (_Wrung from him by the repeated calls of the printer's boy_) "Oh! that devils' visits were, like angels', 'few and far between!'" * * * * * RIDDLES BY A WRETCH.--_Q._ What is the difference between a surgeon and a wizard? _A._ The one is a cupper and the other is a sorcerer. _Q._ Why is America like the act of reflection? _A._ Because it is a roomy-nation. _Q._ Why is your pretty cousin like an alabaster vase? _A._ Because she is an _objet de looks_. _Q._ How is it that a man born in Truro can never be an Irishman? _A._ Because he always is a true-Roman. _Q._ Why is my game cock like a bishop? _A._ Because he has his crows here (_crozier_). * * * * * COUPLET BY A CYNIC (_After reading certain Press Comments on the Picture Show_) Philistine art may stand all critic shocks Whilst it gives private views--of pretty frocks! * * * * * [Illustration: RETALIATION.-- _Comic Man_ (_to unappreciated tenor, whose song has just been received in stony silence_). "I say, you're not going to sing an encore, are you?" _Unappreciated Tenor_ (_firmly_). "Yes, I am. _Serve them right!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INDUCEMENT.-- _Swedish Exercise Instructress._ "Now, ladies, if you will only follow my directions carefully, it is quite possible that you may become even as I am!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MORE SWEDISH INSTRUCTION.-- _Instructress_ (_to exhausted class, who have been hopping round room for some time_). "Come! Come! That won't do at all. You _must_ look cheerful. Keep smiling--smiling all the time!"] * * * * * A BATCH OF PROOFS The proof of a pudding is in the eating: The proof of a woman is in making a pudding; And the proof of a man is in being able to dine without one. * * * * * A REFLECTION ON LITERATURE.--It is a well-authenticated fact, that the name of a book has a great deal to do with its sale and its success. How strange that titles should go for so much in the republic of letters. * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE REJECTED AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY (_suggested by one of the Forty_).--"Hanging's too good for them!" * * * * * SUGGESTION FOR A MUSIC-HALL SONG (_to suit any Lionne Comique_).--"Wink at _me only_ with one eye," &c., &c. * * * * * AMPLE GROUNDS FOR COMPLAINT.--Finding the grounds of your coffee to consist of nothing but chicory. * * * * * A SMILING COUNTENANCE is "The happy mien." * * * * * [Illustration: _Publisher_ (_impatiently_). "Well, sir, what is it?" _Poet_ (_timidly_). "O--er--are you Mr. Jobson?" _Publisher_ (_irritably_). "Yes." _Poet_ (_more timidly_). "Mr. _George_ Jobson?" _Publisher_ (_excitably_). "Yes, sir, that's my name." _Poet_ (_more timidly still_). "Of the firm of Messrs. Jobson and Doodle?" _Publisher_ (_angrily_). "Yes. What do you want?" _Poet_ "Oh--I want to see Mr. Doodle!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR ORCHESTRAL SOCIETY.--_The Rector._ "Oh, _piano_, Mr. Brown! _Pi-an-o!_" _Mr. Brown._ "_Piano_ be blowed! I've come here to enjoy myself!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Customer._--"Have you 'How to be happy though married'?" _Bookseller._ "No, sir. We have run out at present of the work you mention; but we are selling this little book by the hundred."] * * * * * A LETTER TO A YOUNG PUBLISHER Since, my dear Jones, you are good enough to ask for my advice, need I say that your success in business will depend chiefly upon judicious advertisement? You are bringing out, I understand, a thrilling story of domestic life, entitled "Maria's Marriage." Already, I am glad to learn, you have caused a paragraph to appear in the literary journals contradicting "the widespread report that Mr. Kipling and the German Emperor have collaborated in the production of this novel, the appearance of which is awaited with such extraordinary interest." And you have induced a number of papers to give prominence to the fact that Mr. Penwiper dines daily off curry and clotted cream. So far, so good. Your next step will be to send out review-copies, together with ready-made laudatory criticisms; in order, as you will explain, to save the hard worked reviewers trouble. But, you will say, supposing this ingenious device to fail? Supposing "Maria's Marriage" to be universally "slated"? Well, even then you need not despair. With a little practice, you will learn the art of manufacturing an attractive advertisement column from the most unpromising material. Let me give you a brief example of the method:-- I.--THE RAW MATERIAL. "Mr. Penwiper's latest production, 'Maria's Marriage,' scarcely calls for serious notice. It seems hard to believe that even the most tolerant reader will contrive to study with attention a work of which every page contains glaring errors of taste. Humour, smartness, and interest are all conspicuously wanting."--_The Thunderer._ "This book is undeniably third-rate--dull, badly-written, incoherent; in fine, a dismal failure."--_The Wigwam._ "If 'Maria's Marriage' has any real merit, it is as an object-lesson to aspiring authors. Here, we would say to them, is a striking example of the way in which romance should not be written. Set yourself to produce a work exactly its opposite in every particular, and the chances are that you will produce, if not a masterpiece, at least, a tale free from the most glaring faults. For the terrible warning thus afforded by his volume to budding writers, Mr. Penwiper deserves to be heartily thanked."--_Daily Telephone._ "'Maria's Marriage' is another book that we have received in the course of the month."--_The Parachute._ II.--THE RESULT. "Maria's Marriage!" "Maria's Marriage!" Gigantic Success--The Talk of London. The 29th edition will be issued this week if the sale of twenty-eight previous ones makes this necessary. Each edition is strictly limited! "Maria's Marriage!" The voice of the Press is simply _unanimous_. Read the following extracts--taken almost at random from the reviews of leading papers. "Mr. Penwiper's latest production ... calls for serious notice ... the reader will ... study with attention a work of which every page contains taste, humour, smartness and interest!"--_The Thunderer._ "Undeniably ... fine!"--_The Wigwam._ "Has ... real merit ... an object lesson ... a striking example of the way in which romance ... should be written. A masterpiece ... free from faults. Mr. Penwiper deserves to be heartily thanked."--_Daily Telephone._ "The book ... of the month!"--_The Parachute_, &c., &c. "Maria's Marriage!" A veritable triumph! Order it from your bookseller to-day! That, my dear Jones, is how the trick is done. I hope to give you some further hints on a future occasion. * * * * * "PRAY, AFTER YOU," as the glass of water said to the pill. * * * * * TRUISM FOR TEETOTALERS.--When a man is _out_ of spirits--he should take wine. * * * * * A NEEDLESS QUESTION.--"Do you want a loan?" * * * * * THE BRITISH "PUBLIC."--The beer-shop. * * * * * MORNING ENVELOPES.--Dressing gowns. * * * * * [Illustration: "_Operator_" (_desperately, after half an hour's fruitless endeavour to make a successful "picture" from unpromising sitter_). "Suppose, madam, we try a pose with just the _least_ suggestion of--er--_sauciness_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: GUSHING HOSPITALITY. (Time 3 p.m.).--_Hospitable Host._ "Have c'gar, old f'lla?" _Languid Visitor._ "No--thanks." _H. H._ "Cigarette then?" _His Visitor._ "No--thanks. Nevar smoke 'mejately after breakfast." _H. H._ "Can't refuse a toothpick, then, old f'lla?"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROPORTIONS.--_Buyer._ "In future, as my collection increases, and my wall-space is limited, and price no object, perhaps you would let me have a little more 'picture,' and a little less 'mount'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INGENUOUS!--_Jones_ (_to his fair partner, after their opponents have declared "clubs"_). "Shall I play to 'clubs', partner?" _Fair Partner_ (_who has never played bridge before_). "Oh, no, please don't, Mr. Jones. I've only got two little ones."] * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "And are all these lovely things about which you write imaginary?" _The Poet._ "Oh, no, Miss Ethel. I have only to open my eyes and I see something beautiful before me." _She._ "Oh, how I wish I could say the same!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE R.A.--_First Painter._ "I've just been showing my aunt round. Most amusing. Invariably picks out the wrong pictures to admire and denounces the good ones!" _Second Painter._ "Did she say anything about mine?" _First Painter._ "Oh, she liked yours!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, old man, I've invented a new drink. Big success! Come and try it." "What's it made of?" "Well, it's something like the ordinary whisky and soda, but you put more whisky in it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY _Sylvia._ "I wonder whether he'll be a soldier or a sailor?" _Mamma._ "Wouldn't you like him to be an artist, like papa?" _Sylvia._ "Oh, one in the family's quite enough!"] * * * * * "THE BITTER END."--The last half inch of a halfpenny cigar. * * * * * THE WORST POSSIBLE NAME FOR AN AUTHOR.--Dr. Dozy. * * * * * Why oughtn't a boot and shoemaker to be trusted? Because he's a slippery customer. * * * * * THE RACE FOR WEALTH.--Jews. * * * * * BASSO PROFONDO.--A deep draught of bitter beer. * * * * * EXERCISE FOR CITY CLERKS.--A run on a Bank. * * * * * PASSING THE TIME.--Going by a clock. * * * * * [Illustration: Coming off with flying colours] * * * * * [Illustration: THY FACE SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * LITERARY NOTES A well-known diner-out has, we learn, collected his reminiscences, and would be glad to hear from some obliging gentleman or gentlemen who would "earnestly request" him to publish them. We should add that no names would be mentioned, the preface merely opening as follows:-- "Although these stray gleanings of past years are of but ephemeral value, and though they were collected with no thought of publication, the writer at the earnest request of a friend" (or "many friends," if more than one) "has reluctantly consented to give his scattered reminiscences to the world." * * * * * The following volumes in "The Biter Bit" series are announced as shortly to appear:-- "The Fighter Fit; or practical hints on pugilistic training." "The Lighter Lit: a treatise on the illumination of Thames barges." "The Slighter Slit: or a new and economical method of cutting out." "The Tighter Tit: studies in the comparative inebriation of birds." [Illustration: Some fine form was exhibited] [Illustration: A two-figure break] [Illustration: A heat of 500 up] [Illustration: Finishing the game with a cannon] [Illustration: Opening with the customary miss] [Illustration: Spot barred] BILLIARD NOTES BY DUMB-CRAMBO * * * * * [Illustration: SENDING-IN-DAY AT THE R. A. "But it is impossible for you to see the President. What do you want to see him for?" "I want to show him exactly where I want my picture hung."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Millionaire._ "Yes; I'm awful partial to picters. Why, bless yer, I've got _cellars_ full of 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE EXHIBITION"] _Infuriated Outsider._ "R-r-r-rejected, sir!----Fwanospace, sir!" (_With withering emphasis._) "'Want--of--space--sir!!" * * * * * [Illustration: "Look here, Schlumpenhagen, you must help us at our smoking concert. You play the flute, don't you?" "Not ven dere ish anypotty apout." "How's that?" "Dey _von't let me_!"] * * * * * ROCHEFOUCAULDIANA There is no sympathy in England so universally felt, so largely expressed, as for a person who is likely to catch cold. * * * * * When a person loses his reputation, the very last place where he goes to look for it is the place where he has lost it. * * * * * No gift so fatal as that of singing. The principal question asked, upon insuring a man's life, should be, "Do you sing a good song?" * * * * * Many of us are led by our vices, but a great many more of us follow them without any leading at all. * * * * * To show how deceptive are appearances, more gentlemen are mistaken for waiters, than waiters for gentlemen. * * * * * To a retired tradesman there can be no greater convenience than that of having a "short sight." In truth, wealth rarely improves the vision. Poverty, on the contrary, strengthens it. A man, when he is poor, is able to discover objects at the greatest distance with the naked eye, which he could not see, though standing close to his elbow, when he was rich. * * * * * If you wish to set a room full of silent people off talking, get some one to sing a song. * * * * * The bore is happy enough in boring others, but is never so miserable as when left alone, when there is no one but himself to bore. * * * * * The contradictions of this life are wonderful. Many a man, who hasn't the courage to say "no," never misses taking a shower-bath every morning of his life. * * * * * If you wish to borrow £5 ask for £10. * * * * * WHAT BROWN SAID SCENE--_Hall of the Elysium Club_ _Enter_ Smith, F.R.S., _meeting_ Brown, Q.C. _Smith._ Raw day, eh? _Brown._ Very _raw_. Glad when it's _done_. [_Exit_ Brown, Q.C. _Exit_ Smith, F.R.S., _into smoking-room, where he tells a good thing that_ Brown _said_. * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE ACADEMY _Miss Jones._ "How came you to think of the subject, Mr. de Brush?" _Eccentric Artist._ "Oh, I have had it in my head for years!" _Miss Jones._ "How wonderful! What did the papers say?" _Eccentric Artist._ "Said it was full of 'atmosphere,' and suggested 'space.'"] * * * * * [Illustration: INTELLIGENT!--_Artist_ (_who thinks he has found a good model for his Touchstone_). "Have you any sense of humour, Mr. Bingles?" _Model._ "Thank y' sir, no, sir, thank y'. I enj'ys pretty good 'ealth, sir, thank y' sir!"] * * * * * THE PERILS OF A CONVERSAZIONE _Miss Fillip_ (_to gentleman whose name she did not catch when introduced_). Have you read _A Modern Heliogabolus_? _He._ Yes, I have. _Miss F._ All through? _He._ Yes, from beginning to end. _Miss F._ Dear me! I wonder you're alive! How did you manage to get through it? _He_ (_diffidently_). Unfortunately, I wrote it. [_Miss F. catches a distant friend's eye._ * * * * * THE SOUND SLEEPER'S PARADISE.--Snoring. * * * * * _PATENT_ NIGHT-LIGHTS.--Stars. * * * * * EPITAPH ON A CHAMPION BILLIARD PLAYER.--"Taking his long rest." * * * * * TONED PAPER.--Sheets of music. * * * * * ITEM ON A MENU OF LITERARY PABULUM.--"Shakspeare and Bacon." * * * * * RACE GLASSES.--Champagne. * * * * * THE MAID OF THE MILL.--A lady boxer. * * * * * [Illustration: SENTIMENT.--(_Artistic-minded Youth in midst of a fierce harangue from his father, who is growing hotter and redder_). "By Jove, that's a fine bit of colour, if you like!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "What an ass old Brown is!" "Oh, I don't know. He's got far more brains than appear on the surface."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Art-Master_ (_who has sent for a cab, pointing to horse_). "What do you call that?" _Cabby._ "An 'orse, sir." _Art-Master._ "A horse! Rub it out, and do it again!"] * * * * * A PARCEL OF PROVERBS, &c. COMPLETED Take time by the forelock--to have his hair cut. Follow your leader--in your daily paper. The proof of the pudding is in the eating--a great deal of it. Never look a gift-horse in the mouth--lest you should find false teeth. The hare with many friends--was eaten at last. A stitch in time saves nine--or more naughty words, when a button comes off while you are dressing in a great hurry for dinner. One man's meat is another man's poison--when badly cooked. Don't count your chickens before they are hatched--by the patent incubator. Love is blind--and unwilling to submit to an operation. First catch your hare--then cook it with rich gravy. Nil Desperandum--PERCY VERE. * * * * * [Illustration: NON-COMMITTAL.-- Scene: _Fashionable Auction Rooms. A Picture Sale._-- _Amateur Collector_ (_after taking advice of Expert No. 1, addresses Expert No. 2_). "What do you think of the picture? I am advised to buy it. Is it not a fine Titian?" _Expert No. 2_ (_wishing to please both parties_). "I don't think you can go far wrong, for anyhow, if it isn't a Titian it's a repe-tition."] * * * * * ANOTHER PARCEL OF PROVERBS If the cap fits, wear it--out. Six of one, and half-a-dozen of the other--make exactly twelve. None so deaf as those who won't hear--hear! hear! Faint heart never won fair lady--nor dark one either. Civility costs nothing--nay, is something to your credit. The best of friends must part--their hair. Any port in a storm--but old port preferred. One good turn deserves another--in waltzing. Youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm--very sea-sick. * * * * * "LEADING STRINGS."--Those of a first violin in an orchestra. * * * * * TOBACCO STOPPERS.--Men who stay to smoke. * * * * * SMOKER'S PROVERB.--It's an ill weed that blows nobody any good. A _TIDY_ DRINK.--_Neat_ brandy. * * * * * [Illustration: _Amateur_ "_Minimus Poet_" (_who has called at the office twice a week for three months_). "Could you use a little poem of mine?" _Editor_ (_ruthlessly determined that this shall be his final visit_). "Oh, I think so. There are two or three broken panes of glass, and a hole in the skylight. How large is it?"] * * * * * MOTTO FOR A SUB-EDITOR.--"Aut _scissors_, aut nullus." * * * * * _To find the value of a Cook._--Divide the services rendered by the wages paid; deduct the kitchen stuff, subtract the cold meat by finding how often three policemen will go into one area, and the quotient will help you to the result. _To find the value of a Friend._--Ask him to put his name to a bill. _To find the value of Time._--Travel by a Bayswater omnibus. _To find the value of Eau de Cologne._--Walk into Smithfield market. _To find the value of Patience._--Consult Bradshaw's _Guide_ to ascertain the time of starting of a railway train. * * * * * NOTE BY A SOCIAL CYNIC.--They may abolish the "push" stroke at billiards, but they'll never do so in society. * * * * * FROM OUR OWN IRREPRESSIBLE ONE (_still dodging custody_).--_Q._ Why is a daily paper like a lamb? _A._ Because it is always folded. * * * * * [Illustration: DUTY BEFORE PLEASURE.--_Hostess_ (_to new Curate_). "We seem to be talking of nothing but horses, Mr. Soothern. Are you much of a sportsman?" _Curate._ "Really, Lady Betty, I don't think I ought to say that I am. I used to collect butterflies; but I have to give up even _that_ now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHAKSPEARE ILLUSTRATED "The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still?" _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act II., Sc. 5.] * * * * * "STILL WATERS."--Whiskies. * * * * * ART CRITICISM.--In too many pictures the colour is medi-ocre. * * * * * THE ADVERTISER'S PARADISE.--Puffin Island. * * * * * A MUSICAL BURGLAR.--One who breaks into a tune. * * * * * [Illustration: HE KNEW HIS WORK _Proprietor of Travelling Menagerie._ "Are you used to looking after horses and other animals?" _Applicant for Job._ "Yessir. Been used to 'orses all my life." _P. O. T. M._ "What steps would you take if a lion got loose?" _A. F. J._ "Good long 'uns, mister!"] * * * * * MAY BE HEARD EVERYWHERE.--"Songs without words"--a remarkable performance; but perhaps a still more wonderful feat is playing upon words. * * * * * SUBSTITUTES FOR PROFANE SWEARING (_Adapted to various Sorts and Conditions of Men_) _Lawyer._ Tax my bill. _Doctor._ Dash my draughts. _Soldier_. Snap my stock. _Parson._ Starch my surplice. _Bricklayer._ I'll be plastered. _Bricklayer's Labourer._ Chop my hod. _Carpenter._ Saw me. _Plumber and Glazier._ Solder my pipes. Smash my panes. _Painter._ I'm daubed. _Brewer._ I'm mashed. _Engineer._ Burst my boiler. _Stoker._ Souse my coke. _Costermonger._ Rot my taturs. _Dramatic Author._ Steal my French Dictionary. _Actor._ I'll be hissed. _Tailor._ Cut me out. Cook my goose. _Linendraper._ Soil my silks. Sell me off. _Grocer._ Squash my figs. Sand my sugar. Seize my scales. _Baker._ Knead my dough. Scorch my muffins. _Auctioneer._ Knock me down. * * * * * "THE PLAYERS ARE COME!"--_First Player_ (_who has had a run of ill-luck_). I'm regularly haunted by the recollection of my losses at baccarat. _Second Player._ Quite Shakespearian! "Banco's ghost." * * * * * SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR.--(_From the Literary Club Smoking-room._) _Cynicus._ I'm waiting till my friends are dead, in order to write my reminiscences? _Amicus._ Ah, but remember. "_De mortuis nil nisi bonum._" _Cynicus._ Quite so. I shall tell nothing but exceedingly good stories about them. * * * * * A CONTRADICTION.--In picture exhibitions, the observant spectator is struck by the fact that works hung on the line are too often below the mark. * * * * * A "LIGHT" REPAST.--A feast of lanterns. * * * * * [Illustration: R. A. GEMS.--_Fair Amateur_ (_to carpenter_). "My picture is quite hidden with that horrid ticket on it. Can't you fix it on the frame?" _Carpenter._ "Why, you'll spoil the frame, mum!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones._ "Do you drink between meals?" _Smith._ "No. I eat between drinks." _Jones._ "Which did you do last?" _Smith._ "Drink." _Jones._ "Then we'd better go and have a sandwich at once!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOCTURNE IN THE OLD KENT ROAD] * * * * * "LARGEST CIRCULATION IN THE WORLD."--The elephant's. * * * * * THE WORST PLACE IN THIRSTY WEATHER.--Taplow. * * * * * INSCRIPTION FOR AN OLD CLOTHES SHOP.--"Nothing new." * * * * * [Illustration: "JUST A SONG AT TWILIGHT"] (_As sung sweetly by a Public-House-Baritone_) * * * * * LITERARY ANNOUNCEMENT.--In the press--yesterday's tablecloth. * * * * * THE HEIGHT OF ECONOMY.--A "screw" of tobacco. * * * * * [Illustration: A BROKEN MELODY SCENE I.--_Street Singer._ "I fear no foe in shining ar----."] [Illustration: A BROKEN MELODY SCENE II.--Enter policeman.] * * * * * THE QUICK GRUB STREET CO. THE QUICK GRUB STREET CO. BEG TO ANNOUNCE THAT THEY HAVE OPENED AN ESTABLISHMENT FOR THE SUPPLY OF LITERATURE IN ALL ITS BRANCHES. _Every Editor should send for our Prices and compare them with those of other houses._ POETRY DEPARTMENT. We employ experienced poets for the supply of garden verses, war songs, &c., and undertake to fill any order within twenty-four hours of its reaching us. Our Mr. Rhymeesi will be glad to wait upon parties requiring verse of any description, and, if the matter is at all urgent, to execute the order on the spot. DRAMA DEPARTMENT. Actor-managers before going elsewhere should give us a call. Our plays draw wherever they are presented, even if it is only bricks. _Testimonial._--A manager writes: "The play you kindly supplied, _The Blue Bloodhound of Bletchley_, is universally admitted to be _unlike anything ever before produced on the stage_." Musical comedies (guaranteed absolutely free from plot) supplied on shortest notice. FICTION DEPARTMENT. For society dialogues we use the very best duchesses; while a first-class earl's daughter is retained for Court and gala opera. For our new line of _vie intime_ we employ none but valets and confidential maids, who have to serve an apprenticeship with P.A.P. THE KAILYARD DEPARTMENT is always up-to-date, and our Mr. Stickit will be pleased to call on any editor on receipt of post-card. N.B.--We guarantee our Scotch Idyll to be absolutely unintelligible to any English reader, and undertake to refund money if it can be proved that such is not the case. Our speciality, however, is our _Six-Shilling Shocker_, as sold for serial purposes. Editors with papers that won't "go" should ask for one of these. When ordering please state general idea required under one of our recognised sections, as foreign office, police, mounted infantry, cowardice, Rome, &c., &c. BIOGRAPHY. Any gentleman wishing to have a biography of himself produced in anticipation of his decease should communicate with us. The work would, of course, be published with a note to the effect that the writing had been a labour of love; that moreover the subject with his usual modesty had been averse from the idea of a biography. _Testimonial._--Sir Sunny Jameson writes: "The Life gives great satisfaction. No reference made, however, to my munificent gift of £50 to the Referees' Hospital. This should be remedied in the next edition. The work, however, has been excellently done. You have made me out to be better than even I ever thought myself." For love letters, For the Elizabethan vogue, For every description of garden meditations, Give the Quick Grub Street Company a trial. * * * * * [Illustration: A SOFT ANSWER.--_Papa_ (_literary, who has given orders he is not to be disturbed_). "Who is it?" _Little Daughter._ "Scarcely anybody, dear papa!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SECRETS OF LITERARY COMPOSITION _The Fair Authoress of "Passionate Pauline," gazing fondly at her own reflection, writes as follows_:-- "I look into the glass, reader. What do I see? I see a pair of laughing, _espiègle_, forget-me-not blue eyes, saucy and defiant; a _mutine_ little rose-bud of a mouth, with its ever-mocking _moue_; a tiny shell-like ear, trying to play hide-and-seek in a tangled maze of rebellious russet gold; while, from underneath the satin folds of a _rose-thé_ dressing-gown, a dainty foot peeps coyly forth in its exquisitely-pointed gold morocco slipper", &c., &c. (_Vide "Passionate Pauline", by Parbleu._)] * * * * * [Illustration: A DISTINCTION _First Gourmet._ "That was Mr. Dobbs I just nodded to." _Second Gourmet._ "I know." _First G._ "He asked me to dine at his house next Thursday--but I can't. Ever dined at Dobbs's?" _Second G._ "No. Never _dined_. But I've been there to dinner!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Auctioneer._ "Lot 52. A genuine Turner. Painted during the artist's lifetime. What offers, gentlemen?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Millionaire_ (_who has been shown into fashionable artist's studio, and has been kept waiting a few minutes_). "SHOP!"] * * * * * NONSENSE PROVERBS WHAT'S in the pot mustn't be told to the pan. There's a mouth for every muffin. A clear soup and no flavour. As drunk as a daisy. All rind and no cheese. Set a beggar on horseback, and he will cheat the livery-stable keeper. There's a B in every bonnet. Two-and-six of one and half-a-crown of the other. The insurance officer dreads a fire. First catch your heir, then hook him. Every plum has its pudding. Short pipes make long smokes. It's a long lane that has no blackberries. Wind and weather come together. A flower in the button-hole is worth two on the bush. Round robin is a shy bird. There's a shiny lining to every hat. The longest dinner will come to an end. You must take the pips with the orange. It's a wise dentist that knows his own teeth. No rose without a gardener. Better to marry in May than not to marry at all. Save sovereigns, spend guineas. Too many followers spoil the cook. (N.B. This is _not_ nonsense.) * * * * * [Illustration: Profusely decorated with cuts] * * * * * SAID AT THE ACADEMY.--_Punch_ doesn't care _who_ said it. It was extremely rude to call the commission on capital punishments the hanging committee. * * * * * THE GRAMMAR OF ART.--"Art," spell it with a big or little "a," can never come first in any well-educated person's ideas. "I am" must have the place of honour; then "Thou Art!" so apostrophised, comes next. * * * * * [Illustration: _Scrumble._ "Been to see the old masters?" _Stippleton_ (_who has married money_). "No. Fact is"--(_sotto voce_)--"I've got quite enough on my hands with the old missus!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TWO OLD MASTERS OF ARTS] * * * * * ARTIST'S VADE MECUM _Question._ Has the anxious parent been to see his child's portrait? _Answer._ He has seen it. _Q._ Did he approve of it? _A._ He will like it better when I have made some slight alterations. _Q._ What are they? _A._ He would like the attitude of the figure altered, the position of the arms changed, the face turned the other way, the hair and eyes made a different colour, and the expression of the mouth improved. _Q._ Did he make any other suggestions? _A._ Yes; he wishes to have the child's favourite pony and Newfoundland dog put in, with an indication of the ancestral home in the back-ground. _Q._ Is he willing to pay anything extra for these additions? _A._ He does not consider it necessary. _Q._ Are you well on with your Academy picture? _A._ No; but I began the charcoal sketch yesterday. _Q._ Have you secured the handsome model? _A._ No; the handsome model has been permanently engaged by the eminent R.A. _Q._ Under these circumstances, do you still expect to get finished in time? _A._ Yes; I have been at this stage in February for as many years as I can remember, and have generally managed to worry through somehow. * * * * * WHENEVER the "Reduced Prizefighters" take a benefit at a theatre, the play should be _The Miller and his Men_. * * * * * A NICE MAN.--Mr. Swiggins was a sot. He was also a sloven. He never had anything neat about him but gin. * * * * * [Illustration: Under a great master] * * * * * [Illustration: THE WARRIOR BOLD SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GAY TOM TIT SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * "HUNG, DRAWN, AND QUARTERED."--(_Mr. Punch's sentence on three-fourths of the Academicians' work "on the line."_)--Very well "hung"; very ill "drawn"; a great deal better "quartered" than it deserves. * * * * * THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE.--Gin. * * * * * [Illustration: "WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST" When he magnanimously consents to go on the platform at a conjuring performance, and unwonted objects are produced from his inside pockets.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Celebrated Minor Poet._ "Ah, hostess, how 'do? Did you get my book I sent you yesterday?" _Hostess._ "Delightful! _I couldn't sleep till I'd read it!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Infant Prodigy has reached the middle of an exceedingly difficult pianoforte solo, and one of those dramatic pauses of which the celebrated composer is so fond has occurred. Kindly but undiscerning old Lady._ "Play something you know, dearie."] * * * * * [Illustration: AT A FENCING "AT HOME."--_Distinguished Foreigner_ (_hero of a hundred duels_). "It is delightful, mademoiselle. You English are a sporting nation." _Fair Member._ "So glad you are enjoying it. By the way, Monsieur le Marquis, have they introduced fencing into France yet?"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE CAUSE OF ART.--_Patron._ "When are yer goin' to start my wife's picture and mine? 'Cause, when the 'ouse is up we're a goin'----" _Artist._ "Oh, I'll get the canvases at once, and----" _Patron_ (_millionaire_). "Canvas! 'Ang it!--none o' yer canvas for me! Price is no objec'! I can afford to pay for something better than canvas!!" [_Tableau!_] * * * * * [Illustration: GRATIFYING!--_Amateur Artist_ (_to the carrier_). "Did you see my picture safely delivered at the Royal Academy?" _Carrier._ "Yessir, and mighty pleased they seemed to be with it--leastways, if one may jedge, sir. They didn't say nothin'--but--lor' how they did laugh!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Artist_ (_who has recommended model to a friend_). "Have you been to sit to Mr. Jones yet?" _Model._ "Well, I've been to see him; but directly I got into his studio, 'Why,' he said, 'you've got a head like a Botticelli.' I don't know what a Botticelli is, but I didn't go there to be called names, so I come away!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Art Student_ (_engaging rooms_). "What is that?" _Landlady._ "That is a picture of our church done in wool by my daughter, sir. She's subject to art, too."] * * * * * THE SUB-EDITOR'S AUNT "I always buy your paper my dear Horace," said the old lady, "although there is much in it I cannot approve of. But there is one thing that puzzles me extremely." "Yes, aunt?" said the Sub-Editor meekly, as he sipped his tea. "Why, I notice that the contents bill invariably has one word calculated to stimulate the morbid curiosity of the reader. An adjective." "Circulation depends upon adjectives," said the Sub-Editor. "I don't think I object to them," the old lady replied; "but what I want you to tell me is how you choose them. How do you decide whether an occurrence is 'remarkable' or 'extraordinary,' 'astounding' or 'exciting,' 'thrilling' or 'alarming,' 'sensational' or merely 'strange,' 'startling' or 'unique'? What tells you which word to use?" "Well, aunt, we have a system to indicate the adjective to a nicety; but----" "My dear Horace, I will never breathe a word. You should know that. No one holds the secrets of the press more sacred than I." The Sub-Editor settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "You see, aunt, the great thing in an evening paper is human interest. What we want to get is news to hit the man-in-the-street. Everything that we do is done for the man-in-the-street. And therefore we keep safely locked up in a little room a tame man of this description. He may not be much to look at, but his sympathies are right, unerringly right. He sits there from nine till six, and has things to eat now and then. We call him the Thrillometer." "How wonderful! How proud you should be Horace, to be a part of this mighty mechanism, the press." "I am, aunt. Well, the duties of the Thrillometer are very simple. Directly a piece of news comes in, it is the place of one of the Sub-Editors to hurry to the Thrillometer's room and read it to him. I have to do this." "Poor boy. You are sadly overworked, I fear." "Yes, aunt. And while I read I watch his face." "Long study has told me exactly what degree of interest is excited within him by the announcement. I know instantly whether his expression means 'phenomenal' or only 'remarkable,' whether 'distressing' or only 'sad,' whether----" "Is there so much difference between 'distressing' and 'sad,' Horace?" "Oh, yes, aunt. A suicide in Half Moon Street is 'distressing'; in the City Road it is only 'sad.' Again, a raid on a club in Whitechapel is of no account; but a raid on a West-End club is worth three lines of large type in the bill, above Fry's innings." "Do you mean a club in Soho when you say West-End?" "Yes, aunt, as a rule." "But why do you call that the West-End?" "That was the Thrillometer's doing, aunt. He fell asleep over a club raid, and a very good one too, when I said it was in Soho; but when I told him of the next--also in Soho, chiefly Italian waiters--and said it was in the West-End, his eyes nearly came out of his head. So you see how useful the Thrillometer can be." "Most ingenious, Horace. Was this your idea?" "Yes, aunt." "Clever boy. And have the other papers adopted it?" "Yes, aunt. All of them." "Then you are growing rich, Horace?" "No, no, aunt, not at all. Unfortunately I lack the business instinct. Other people grow rich on my ideas. In fact, so far from being rich, I was going to venture to ask you----" "Tell me more about the Thrillometer," said the old lady briskly. * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE WRESTLING MATCH _Enthusiastic Old Gent._ "Go on, sonny! Stick 'old of 's 'ead."] * * * * * GOING TO THE BAD All the way from the National Gallery Unto the Royal Academy As I walked, I was guilty of raillery, Which I felt was very bad o' me. Thinking of art's disasters, Still sinking to deeper abysses, I said, "From the Old Masters Why go to the new misses?" * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS A visit to an artist's studio.] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "Awfully jolly concert, wasn't it? Awfully jolly thing by that fellow--what's his name?--something like Doorknob." _She._ "_Doorknob!_ Whom _do_ you mean? I only know of Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, Handel----" _He._ "That's it! Handel. I knew it was something you caught hold of!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR ARTIST "If you please, sir, here's the printer's boy called again!" "Oh, bother! Say I'm busy."] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS "'Tis hard to give the hand where the heart can _never_ be!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS. "Only this"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Horse Dealer._ "Did that little mare I sold you do for you, sir?" _Nervous Horseman._ "Nearly!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "OPTICS."--_Lecturer._ "Now let anyone gaze steadfastly on any object--say, for instance, his wife's eye--and he'll see himself looking so exceedingly small, that----" _Strong-minded Lady_ (_in front row_). "Hear! Hear! Hear!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "AFTER THE FAIR." (_Country cousin comes up in August to see the exhibition of pictures at the Royal Academy!_).--_Porter._ "Bless yer 'art, we're closed!" _Country Cousin._ "Closed! What! didn't it pay?!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones._ "How is it we see you so seldom at the club now?" _Old Member._ "Ah, well, you see, I'm not so young as I was; and I've had a good deal of worry lately; and so, what with one thing and another, I've grown rather fond of my own society." _Jones._ "Epicure!"] * * * * * THE TRUE INWARDNESS OF ART.--Photographs by the Röntgen rays. * * * * * MAN WHO HAS A TURN FOR MUSIC.--An organ-grinder. * * * * * [Illustration: THE PHONOGRAPH CANNOT LIE.--_German Dealer_ "Now, mein Herr! You've chust heerd your lofely blaying rebroduced to berfection! Won't you buy one?" _Amateur Flautist._ "Are you sure the thing's all right?" _German Dealer._ "Zertainly, mein Herr." _Amateur Flautist._ "Gad, then, if that's what my playing is like, I'm done with the flute for ever."] * * * * * [Illustration: PRIVATE INQUIRY.--_Surveyor of Taxes_ (_to literary gent_). "But surely you can arrive at some estimate of the amount received by you during the past three years for example. Don't you keep books?" _Literary Gent._ (_readily_). "Oh dear no. I write them!" _Surveyor._ "Ahem--I mean you've got some sort of accounts----" _Literary Gent._ "Oh yes, lots"--(_Surveyor brightens up_)--"unpaid!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "There's a boy wants to see you, sir." "Has he got a bill in his hand?" "No, sir." "Then he's got it in his pocket! Send him away!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_He._ "By Jove, it's the best thing I've ever painted!--and I'll tell you what; I've a good mind to give it to Mary Morison for her wedding present!" _His Wifey._ "Oh, but, my love, the Morisons have always been _so_ hospitable to us! You ought to give her a _real_ present, you know--a fan, or a scent-bottle, or something of that sort!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIUMPH _Frame Maker_ (_in ecstasies_). "By Jove! Jemima--every one of 'em on the line again!"] * * * * * HOW TO BE AN AUTHOR Mr. Punch, having read the latest book on the way to write for the press, feels that there is at least one important subject not properly explained therein: to wit, the covering letter. He therefore proceeds to supplement this and similar books.... It is, however, when your story is written that the difficulties begin. Having selected a suitable editor, you send him your contribution accompanied by a covering letter. The writing of this letter is the most important part of the whole business. One story, after all, is very much like another (in your case, probably, exactly like another), but you can at least in your covering letter show that you are a person of originality. Your letter must be one of three kinds: pleading, peremptory, or corruptive. I proceed to give examples of each. I.--THE PLEADING LETTER. 199, _Berkeley Square, W._ DEAR MR. EDITOR,--I have a wife and seven starving children; can you possibly help us by accepting this little story of only 18,000 (eighteen thousand) words? Not only would you be doing a work of charity to one who has suffered much, but you would also, I venture to say, be conferring a real benefit upon English literature--as I have already received the thanks of no fewer than thirty-three editors for having allowed them to peruse this manuscript. Yours humbly, THE McHARDY. P.S.--My youngest boy, aged three, pointed to his little sister's Gazeka toy last night and cried "De editor!" These are literally the first words that have passed his lips for three days. Can you stand by and see the children starve? II.--THE PEREMPTORY LETTER. SIR,--Kindly publish at once and oblige. Yours faithfully, EUGENE HACKENKICK. P.S.--I shall be round at your office to-morrow about an advertisement for some 600 lb. bar-bells, and will look you up. III.--THE CORRUPTIVE LETTER. _Middlesex House, Park Lane, IV._ DEAR MR. SMITH,--Can you come and dine with us quite in a _friendly_ way on Thursday at eight? I want to introduce you to the Princess of Holdwig-Schlosstein and Mr. Alfred Austin, who are so eager to meet you. Do you know I am really a little _frightened_ at the thought of meeting such a famous editor? Isn't it _silly_ of me? Yours very sincerely, EMMA MIDDLESEX. P.S.--I wonder if you could find room in your _splendid little paper_ for a silly story I am sending you. It would be such a surprise for the Duke's birthday (on Monday).--E. M. Before concluding the question of the covering letter I must mention the sad case of my friend Halibut. Halibut had a series of lithographed letters of all kinds, one of which he would enclose with every story he sent out. On a certain occasion he wrote a problem story of the most advanced kind; what, in fact, the reviewers call a "strong" story. In sending this to the editor of a famous magazine his secretary carelessly slipped in the wrong letter: "DEAR MR. EDITOR," it ran, "I am trying to rite you a littel story, I do hope you will like my little storey, I want to tell you about my kanary and my pussy cat, it's name is _Peggy_ and it has seven kitens, have you any kitens, I will give you one if you print my story, "Your loving little friend, "FLOSSIE." * * * * * PROVERB FOR THE COUNCIL OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.--"Hanging goes by favour." * * * * * THE ENRAGED MUSICIAN.--(_A Duologue._) _Composer._ Did you stay late at Lady Tittup's? _Friend._ Yes. Heard Miss Bang play again. I was delighted with her execution. _Composer._ Her execution! _That_ would have pleased _me_; she deserved it for having brutally murdered a piece of mine. [_Exeunt._ * * * * * THE GENTILITY OF SPEECH.--At the music halls visitors now call for "another acrobat," when they want a second tumbler. * * * * * [Illustration: THE WRITING ON THE WINDOW Portrait of a gentleman who proposes to say he was detained in town on important business.] * * * * * [Illustration: AWARDING THE BISCUIT _Dingy Bohemian._ "I want a bath Oliver." _Immaculate Servitor._ "My name is _not_ Oliver!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SENDING-IN" DAY.--Indigo Brown takes his picture, entitled "Peace and Comfort," to the R.A. himself, as he says, "Those picture carts are certain to scratch it," and, with the assistance of his cabby, adds the finishing touches on his way there!] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNDOUBTED OLD MASTER (_By Himself_)] * * * * * [Illustration: LAYING IT ON WITH A PALETTE-KNIFE.--_Miss Sere._ "Ah, Mr. Brown, if you could only paint me as I was ten years ago!" _Our Portrait Painter_ (_heroically_). "I am afraid children's portraits are not in my line."] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER THE SIXTH REJECTION BY THE R.A.--_The Prodigal._ "Well, dad, here I am, ready to go into the office to-morrow. I've given up my studio and put all my sketches in the fire." _Fond Father._ "That's right, 'Arold. Good lad! Your 'art's in the right place, after all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown_ (_as Hamlet_) _to Jones_ (_as Charles the Second_). "'Normous amount of _taste_ displayed here to-night!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN ART PATRON "I'll have it if you shorten the 'orizon, and make it quids instead of guineas!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHOW SUNDAY.--_Brown_ (_trying to find something to admire in Smudge's painting_). "By Jove, old chap, those flowers are beautifully put in!" _Smudge._ "Yes; my old friend--Thingummy--'R.A.' you know, painted them in for me."] * * * * * [Illustration: ENVY.--Scene--_Miss Semple and Dawber, standing near his picture._ _Miss Semple._ "Why, there's a crowd in front of Madder's picture!" _Dawber._ "Someone fainted, I suppose!"] * * * * * AN ARTISTIC EPISODE ["Incapacity for work has come to be accepted as the hall-mark of genius.... The collector wants only the thing that is rare, and therefore the artist must make his work as rare as he can."--_Daily Chronicle._] Josephine found me stretched full length in a hammock in the garden. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked; "not feeling seedy, I hope?" "Never better," said I. "But I've been making myself too cheap." "We couldn't possibly help going to the Joneses last night, dear." "Tush," said I. "I mean there is too much of me." "I don't quite understand," she said; "but there certainly will be if you spend your mornings lolling in that hammock." The distortive wantonness of this remark left me cold. "I have made up my mind," I continued, quite seriously, "to do no more work for a considerable time." "But, my dear boy, just think----" "I'm going to make myself scarce," I insisted. "Geoffrey!" she exclaimed, "I knew you weren't well!" I released myself. "Josephine," I said solemnly, "those estimable persons who collect my pictures will think nothing of them if they become too common." "How do you know there are such persons?" she queried. "I must decline to answer that question," I replied; "but if there are none it is because my work is not yet sufficiently rare and precious. I propose to work no more--say, for six or seven years. By that time my reputation will be made, and there will be the fiercest competition for the smallest canvas I condescend to sign." She kissed me. "I came out for the housekeeping-money," she remarked simply. I went into the house to fetch the required sum, and, by some means I cannot explain, got to work again upon the latest potboiler. * * * * * MUSIC READILY ACQUIRED.--Stealing a march. * * * * * [Illustration: THE STORM FIEND SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: SUCH IS FAME!--_Duchess_ (_with every wish to encourage conversation, to gentleman just introduced_). "Your name is very familiar to me indeed for the last ten years." _Minor Poet_ (_flattered_). "Indeed, Duchess! And may I ask what it was that first attracted you?" _Duchess._ "Well, I was staying with Lady Waldershaw, and she had a most indifferent cook, and whenever we found fault with any dish she always quoted _you_, and said that _you_ liked it _so much_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DOMESTIC BLISS.--_Wife of your Bussum._ "Oh! I don't want to interrupt you, dear. I only want some money for baby's socks--and to know whether you will have the mutton cold or hashed."] * * * * * IN A MINOR KEY.--_Hearty Friend_ (_meeting Operatic Composer_). Hallo, old man, how are you? Haven't seen you for an age! What's your latest composition? _Impecunious Musician_ (_gloomily_). With my creditors. [_Exeunt severally._ * * * * * TO BE SUNG AT CONCERT PITCH.--"The Tar's Farewell." * * * * * [Illustration: SAFE.--_Guest_ (_after a jolly evening_). "Good night, ol' fellah--I'll leave my boosh oushide 'door----" _Bohemian Host._ "Au' right, m' boy--(_hic_)--noborry'll toussh 'em--goo' light!!" [_Exeunt._] * * * * * CONSOLATIONS FOR THE UNHUNG Now that the painful month of suspense in Studioland is at an end, it behoves us to apply our most soothing embrocation to the wounded feelings of geniuses whose works have boomeranged their way back from Burlington House. Let them remember: That very few people really look at the pictures in the Academy--they only go to meet their friends, or to say they have been there. That those who _do_ examine the works of art are wont to disparage the same by way of showing their superior smartness. That one picture has no chance of recognition with fourteen hundred others shouting at it. That all the best pavement-artists now give "one-man" shows. They can thus select their own "pitch," and are never ruthlessly skied. That photography in colours is coming, and then the R.A. will have to go. That Rembrandt, Holbein, Rubens and Vandyck were never hung at the summer exhibition. That Botticelli, Correggio and Titian managed to rub along without that privilege. That the ten-guinea frame that was bought (or owed for) this spring will do splendidly next year for another masterpiece. That the painter _must_ have specimens of his best work to decorate the somewhat bare walls of his studio. That the best test of a picture is being able to live with it--or live it down--so why send it away from its most lenient critic? That probably the _chef-d'oeuvre_ sent in was shown to the hanging committee up-side down. That, supposing they saw it properly, they were afraid that its success would put the Academy to the expense of having a railing placed in front. And finally, we would remind the rejected one that, after all, his bantling _has_ been exhibited in the R.A.--to the president and his colleagues engaged in the work of selection. Somebody at least looked at it for quite three seconds. * * * * * ART NOTE.--_The early Italian style._--An organ-grinder at five o'clock in the morning. * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR FLAT.--_Extract from Lady's Correspondence._ "----In fact, our reception was a _complete_ success. We had some excellent musicians. I daresay you will wonder where we put them, with such a crowd of people; but we managed _capitally_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHOW SUNDAY.--_Vandyke Browne._ "Peace, my dear lady, peace and refinement, those are the two essentials in an artist's surroundings." [_Enter Master and Miss Browne. Tableau!_] * * * * * [Illustration: VARNISHING DAY AMENITIES.--_Little Smudge._ "Of course, I know perfectly well my style isn't quite developed yet, but I feel I am, if I might so express it, in a _transition_ stage, don't you know," _Brother Brush_ ("_skied_" _this year_). "Ah! I see, _going from bad to worse_!"] * * * * * THE MIGHTY PEN ["With this little instrument that rests so lightly in the hand, whole nations can be moved.... When it is poised between thumb and finger, it becomes a living thing--it moves with the pulsations of the living heart and thinking brain, and writes down, almost unconsciously, the thoughts that live--the words that burn.... It would be difficult to find a single newspaper or magazine to which we could turn for a lesson in pure and elegant English."--_Miss Corelli in_ "_Free Opinions Freely Expressed_."] O magic pen, what wonders lie Within your little length! Though small and paltry to the eye You boast a giant's strength. Between my finger and my thumb A living creature you become, And to the listening world you give "The words that burn--the thoughts that live." Oft, when the sacred fire glows hot, Your wizard power is proved: You write till lunch, and nations not Infrequently are moved; 'Twixt lunch and tea perhaps you damn For good and all, some social sham, And by the time I pause to sup-- Behold Carnegie crumpled up! Through your unconscious eyes I see Strange beauty, little pen! You make life exquisite to me, If not to other men. You fill me with an inward joy No outward trouble can destroy, Not even when I struggle through Some foolish ignorant review; Nor when the press bad grammar scrawls In wild uncultured haste, And which intolerably galls One's literary taste. What are the editors about, Whom one would think would edit out The shocking English and the style Which every page and line defile? There is, alas! no magazine, No paper that one knows To which a man could turn for clean And graceful English prose; Not even, O my pen, though you Yourself may write for one or two, And lend to them a style, a tone, A grammar that is all your own. I see the shadows of decay On all sides darkly loom; Massage and manicure hold sway, Cosmetics fairly boom; Old dowagers and budding maids Alike affect complexion-aids, While middle age with anxious care Dyes to restore its dwindling hair. The time is out of joint, but still I am not hopeless quite So long as you exist, my quill, Once more to set it right. Woman will cease from rouge, I think, Man pour his hair-wash down the sink, If you will yet consent to give "The words that burn--the thoughts that live." * * * * * A HINT FOR THE PUBLISHERS. As the publishing season will soon be in full play--which means that there will be plenty of work--we suggest the following as titles of books, to succeed the publication of "People I have Met," by an American:-- People I have taken into Custody, by a Policeman. People that have Met me Half-way, by an Insolvent. People I have Splashed, by a Scavenger. People I have Done, by a Jew Bill-discounter. People I have Abused, by a 'Bus Conductor. People I have Run Over, by a Butcher's Boy. People I have Run Against, by a Sweep. * * * * * A ROARING TRADE.--Keeping a menagerie. * * * * * [Illustration: COMPLIMENTS ONE MIGHT IMPROVE ON.--_Mrs. Mudge._ "I _do_ admire the women you draw, Mr. Penink. They're _so_ beautiful and _so_ refined! Tell me, _who_ is your model?" [_Mrs. Mudge rises in Mrs. Penink's opinion._] _Penink._ "Oh, my wife always sits for me!" _Mrs. Mudge_ (_with great surprise_). "You don't say so! Well, I think you're one of the _cleverest_ men I know!" [_Mrs. Penink's opinion of Mrs. Mudge falls below zero._] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER."--_George_ (_Itinerant Punch-and-Judy Showman_). "I say, Bill, she _do_ draw!" _Bill_ (_his partner, with drum and box of puppets_). "H'm--it's more than _we_ can!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SELECTION."--_Brown_ (_as he was leaving our Art Conversazione, after a rattling scramble in the cloak-room_). "Confound it! Got my own hat, after all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Eccentric Old Gent_ (_whose pet aversion is a dirty child_). "Go away, you dirty girl, and wash your face!" _Indignant Youngster._ "You go 'ome, you dirty old man, and do yer 'air!"] * * * * * MUSICAL FACT.--People are apt to complain of the vile tunes that are played about the streets by grinding organs, and yet they may all be said to be the music of Handle. * * * * * [Illustration: IS THERE ROOM FOR MARY THERE? SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS] * * * * * [Illustration: _Photographer._ "I think this is an excellent portrait of your wife." _Mr. Smallweed._ "I don't know--sort of _repose_ about the _mouth_ that somehow doesn't seem right."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GREAT PRIZE FIGHT.--_Johnnie_ (_who finds that his box_, £_20_, _has been appropriated by "the Fancy"_). "I beg your pardon, but this is _my_ box!" _Bill Bashford._ "Oh, is it? Well, why don't you tike it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: WITHOUT PREJUDICE.--_Ugly Man_ (_who thinks he's a privileged wag, to artist_). "Now, Mr. _Daub_igny, draw me." _Artist_ (_who doesn't like being called _Daub_igny, and whose real name is Smith_). "Certainly. But you _won't_ be offended if it's _like_ you. Eh?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Scrimble._ "So sorry I've none of my work to show you. Fact is, I've just sent all my pictures to the Academy." _Mrs. Macmillions._ "What a pity! I did so much want to see them. How soon do you expect them back?"] * * * * * THE YOUNG NOVELIST'S GUIDE TO MEDICINE CHLOROFORM. Invaluable to writers of sensational stories. Every high-class fictionary criminal carries a bottle in his pocket. A few drops, spread on a handkerchief and waved within a yard of the hero's nose, will produce a state of complete unconsciousness lasting for several hours, within which time his pockets may be searched at leisure. This property of chloroform, familiar to every expert novelist, seems to have escaped the notice of the medical profession. CONSUMPTION. The regulation illness for use in tales of mawkish pathos. Very popular some years ago, when the heroine made farewell speeches in blank verse, and died to slow music. Fortunately, however, the public has lost its fondness for work of this sort. Consumption at its last stage is easily curable (in novels) by the reappearance of a hero supposed to be dead. Two pages later the heroine will gain strength in a way which her doctors--not unnaturally--will describe as "perfectly marvellous." And in the next chapter the marriage-bells will ring. [Illustration] DOCTOR. Always include a doctor among your characters. He is quite easy to manage, and invariably will belong to one of these three types: (_a_) The eminent specialist. Tall, imperturbable, urbane. Only comes incidentally into the story. (_b_) Young, bustling, energetic. Not much practice, and plenty of time to look after other people's affairs. Hard-headed and practical. Often the hero's college friend. Should be given a pretty girl to marry in the last chapter. (_c_) The old family doctor. Benevolent, genial, wise. Wears gold-rimmed spectacles, which he has to take off and wipe at the pathetic parts of the book. FEVER. A nice, useful term for fictionary illnesses. It is best to avoid mention of specific symptoms, beyond that of "a burning brow," though, if there are any family secrets which need to be revealed, delirium is sure to supervene at a later stage. _Arthur Pendennis_, for instance, had fictional "fever," and baffled doctors have endeavoured ever since to find out what really was the matter with him. "Brain-fever," again, is unknown to the medical faculty, but you may safely afflict your intellectual hero with it. The treatment of fictionary fever is quite simple, consisting solely of frequent doses of grapes and cooling drinks. These will be brought to the sufferer by the heroine, and these simple remedies administered in this way have never been known to fail. [Illustration] FRACTURE. After one of your characters has come a cropper in the hunting-field he will be taken on a hurdle to the nearest house: usually, by a strange coincidence, the heroine's home. And he will be said to have sustained "a compound fracture"--a vague description which will quite satisfy your readers. GOUT. An invaluable disease to the humorist. Remember that heroes and heroines are entirely immune from it, but every rich old uncle is bound to suffer from it. The engagement of his niece to an impecunious young gentleman invariably coincides with a sharp attack of gout. The humour of it all is, perhaps, a little difficult to see, but it never fails to tickle the public. [Illustration] HEART DISEASE. An excellent complaint for killing off a villain. If you wish to pave the way for it artistically, this is the recognised method: On page 100 he will falter in the middle of a sentence, grow pale, and press his hand sharply to his side. In a moment he will have recovered, and will assure his anxious friends that it is nothing. But the reader knows better. He has met the same premonitory symptoms in scores of novels, and he will not be in the least surprised when, on the middle of page 250, the villain suddenly drops dead. [Illustration] * * * * * UNPOPULAR GAME AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.--"High-sky-high!" * * * * * A ROUGH WINE.--Rude-sheimer. * * * * * NERVOUS.--Mrs. Malaprop was induced to go to a music hall the other evening. She never means to set foot in one again. The extortions some of the performers threw themselves into quite upset her. * * * * * MOTTO FOR A MODEL MUSIC-HALL ENTERTAINMENT.--"Everything in its 'turn' and nothing long." * * * * * [Illustration: BREAKING IT GENTLY.--_His Cousins._ "We sent off the wire to stop your model coming. But you had put one word too many--so we struck it out." _Real Artist._ "Oh, indeed. What word did you strike out?" _His Cousins._ "You had written 'he wasn't to come, as you had only just discovered you couldn't paint to-day.' So we crossed out '_to-day_.'"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE STATE OF THE MARKET.--_Artist_ (_to customer_, _who has come to buy on behalf of a large furnishing firm in Tottenham Court Road_): "How would this suit you? 'Summer'!" _Customer_: "H'm--'Summer.' Well, sir, the fact is we find there's very little demand for _green_ goods just now. If you had a line of _autumn tints_ now--that's the article we find most sale for among our customers!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Our Amateur Romeo_ (_who has taken a cottage in the country, so as to be able to study without interruption_). "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon----" _Owner of rubicund countenance_ (_popping head over the hedge_), "Beg pardon, zur! Be you a talkin' to Oi, zur?"] * * * * * [Illustration: BITTERS AT THE CLUB _MacStodge_ (_Pictor ignotus_). "Who's that going out?" _O'Duffer_ (_Pictor ignotissimus_). "One Ernest Raphael Sopely, who painted Lady Midas!" _MacStodge._ "Oh, the artist!" _O'Duffer._ "No. _The Royal Academician!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: LA VIE DE BOHÈME.--_First Bohemian_ (_to second ditto_). "I can't for the life of me think why you wasted all that time haggling with that tailor chap, and beating him down, when you know, old chap, you won't be able to pay him at all." _Second Bohemian._ "Ah, that's _it_! _I_ have a conscience. I want the poor chap to lose as little as possible!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Guttersnipe_ (_who is getting quite used to posing_). "Will yer want me ter tike my bun down?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Genial Doctor_ (_after laughing heartily at a joke of his patient's_). "Ha! ha! ha! There's not much the matter with _you_! Though I do believe that if you were on your death-bed you'd make a joke!" _Irrepressible Patient._ "Why, of course I should. It would be my last chance!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _She_ (_to Raphael Greene_, _who paints gems for the R.A. that are never accepted_). "I _do_ hope you'll be hung this year. I'm sure you deserve to be!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ART INTELLIGENCE _She_ (_reads_). "There are upwards of fifty English painters and sculptors now in Rome----" _He_ (_British Philistine--served on a late celebrated jury!_). "Ah! no wonder we couldn't get that scullery white-washed!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Devoted little wife_ (_to hubbie, who has been late at the club_). "Now, dear, see, your breakfast is quite ready. A nice kipper, grilled chicken and mushrooms with bacon, poached eggs on toast--tea and coffee. Anything else you'd like, dearie?" _Victim of last night_ (_groans_). "Yes--an appetite!" [_Collapses._] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER FEEDING-TIME.--_Showman of Travelling Menagerie._ "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the most interesting part of the 'ole exhibition! Seven different species of hanimals, in the same cage, dwellin' in 'armony. You could see them with the naked heye, only you have come too late. They are all now inside the lion!"] * * * * * TO BILLIARD PLAYERS.--If you would obey the _rules_ of billiards, always attend to the _cannons_ of the game. * * * * * THE SUSPENSORY ACT.--Hanging the Academy exhibition. * * * * * IN THE BILLIARD ROOM.--_Major Carambole._ I never give any bribes to the club servants on principle. _Captain Hazard._ Then I suppose the marker looks on the tip of your cue without interest. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: IN A BAR, NEWMARKET.--_Seedy Individual_ (_to Knowing One_). "D'yer want to buy a diamond pin cheap?" _Knowing One._ "'Ere, get out of this! What d'you take me for? A juggins?" _S. I._ "Give yer my word it's worth sixty quid if it's worth a penny. And you can 'ave it for a tenner." _K. O._ "Let's 'ave a look at it. Where is it?" _S. I._ "In that old gent's tie. _Will yer 'ave it?_"] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS "Yew harxed me woy hoi larved when larve should be A thing hun-der-eamed hof larve twixt yew han me. Yew moight hin-tereat the sun tew cease tew she-oine Has seek tew sty saw deep a larve has moine."] * * * * * [Illustration: SHAKSPEARE ILLUSTRATED "Oh, my prophetic soul! My uncle!" _Hamlet_, Act I., Sc. 5.] * * * * * A BROTHER ARTIST ["We have regularly attended the Academy now for many years, but never do we remember such a poor show of portraits; they cannot prove to be otherwise than the laughing-stock of tailors and their customers."--_Tailor and Cutter._] The tailor leaned upon his goose, And wiped away a tear: "What portraits painting-men produce," He sobbed, "from year to year! These fellows make their sitters smile In suits that do not fit, They're wrongly buttoned, and the style Is not the thing a bit. "Oh, artist, I'm an artist too! I bid you use restraint, And only show your sitters, do, In fitting coats of paint; In vain you crown those errant seams With smiles that look ethereal, For man may be the stuff of dreams-- But dreams are not material." * * * * * MEDICAL.--A sculptor friend, who has strabismus, consoles himself with the thought that he can always keep his profession in view through having a cast in his eye. * * * * * [Illustration: _Frame-maker_ (_to gifted amateur, who is ordering frames for a few prints and sketches_). "Ah, I suppose you want something cheap an' ordinary for _this_?" [_N.B._--_"This" was a cherished little sketch by our amateur himself._] * * * * * NOT QUITE THE SAME.--Scene: _Exhibition of Works of Art._ _Dealer_ (_to friend, indicating stout person closely examining a Vandyke_). Do you know who _that_ is? I so often see him about. _Friend._ I know him. He's a collector. _Dealer_ (_much interested_). Indeed! What does he collect? Pictures? _Friend._ No. Income tax. [_Exeunt severally._ * * * * * ART CLASS.--_Inspector._ What is a "landscape painter"? _Student._ A painter of landscapes. _Inspector._ Good. What is an "animal painter"? _Student._ A painter of animals. _Inspector._ Excellent. What is a "marine painter"? _Student._ A painter of marines. _Inspector._ Admirable! Go and tell it them. Call next class. [_Exeunt students._ * * * * * THE BEST "PUBLISHER'S CIRCULAR."--A round dining-table. * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.--_Anxious Musician_ (_in a whisper_, _to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler_). "Where's my cello?" _Butler_ (_in stentorian tones_, _to the room_). "Signor Weresmicello!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown._ "Pity Jones has lost--his figure!" _Robinson._ "Not _lost_, but gone before!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Enthusiastic Briton_ (_to seedy American_, _who has been running down all our national monuments_). "But even if our Houses of Parliament 'aren't in it,' as you say, with the Masonic Temple of Chicago, surely, sir, you will admit the Thames Embankment, for instance----" _Seedy American._ "Waal, _guess_ I don't think so durned much of your Thames Embankment, neither. It _rained_ all the blarmed time the night I _slep on it_."] * * * * * A PROFESSIONAL VIEW OF THINGS.--Old Paynter never neglects any opportunity for advancing art. Every evening he has the cloth drawn. * * * * * BEVERAGE FOR A MUSICIAN.--Thorough bass. * * * * * POETICAL LICENCE.--A music-hall's. * * * * * TURF REFORM.--Mowing your lawn. * * * * * A MONSTER MEETING..--A giant and a dwarf. * * * * * THE SOAKER'S PARADISE.--Dropmore. * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] * * * * * BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
36177	----	MR PUNCH ON TOUR. PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR. Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON. Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. AND MRS. JONES'S WALKING TOUR.--(_At the Shakspeare Hotel_). _Voice from the office_: "Porter, take this lady and gentleman to the Romeo and Juliet room."] * * * * * MR. PUNCH ON TOUR THE HUMOUR OF TRAVEL AT HOME AND ABROAD [Illustration] DEPICTED BY PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. H. TOWNSEND, DUDLEY HARDY, REGINALD CLEAVER, GORDON BROWNE, LEWIS BAUMER, G. D. ARMOUR, A. WALLIS MILLS, LANCE THACKERAY, AND OTHERS _WITH 153 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" [Illustration] THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * THE HUMOUR OF TRAVEL [Illustration] There is nothing insular about MR. PUNCH. Judging by his features, familiar though these be and long as they have been typical of English humour, he is not without some trace of foreign origin. Indeed, we fancy that were a very searching enquiry to be made into his ancestry we might find he had a far-off forebear who was, let us say, Italian! Perhaps we have here the explanation of his breadth of mind and wide sympathy which, however deeply rooted in the good soil of old England, are by no means absolutely delimited by our coast line. It is thus that we find him consistently the best of travelling companions, for there is none he is more ready to castigate with the whip of his satire than the insular Englishman abroad. This is as it should be, and in these days of the _entente cordiale_ especially, when the inducements to Continental travel are steadily increasing, all patriotic Englishmen are anxious that their fellow-countrymen should give as good an account of themselves as possible when visiting the fair lands of our friends across the silver streak. [Illustration] MR. PUNCH, while always ready to stand for English ideals of right and fair-dealing, has equally endeavoured throughout his long career to show that all the good manners of Europe are not to be found on the Continent. But above all, wherever he goes, let his travels be within those green isles where he reigns as king of fun or as far afield as the land of the Sphinx, he diffuses that good humour which is the essential characteristic of the Englishman and adds so much to the joy of life. The present collection, illustrative of the humours of travel at home and abroad, certainly does not bear out the ancient criticism as to the English taking their pleasures sadly. Like many another book in this same library it proves rather that they take their misadventures joyously. [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH ON TOUR [Illustration] MRS. RAMSBOTHAM IN ROME.--When Mrs. R. was in Rome she insisted on the guide taking her and her party to see the Papal Bulls of which she had always heard so much. "I suppose," she said, "they're kept on some farm, and are exhibited for prizes just like the King's or the Prince of Wales'." The worthy lady added that she couldn't help laughing to think what a mistake she made in Holland when she was taken to see "Paul Potter's Bull," which turned out to be only a picture. * * * * * A CURIOUS LANDSCAPE FEATURE OBSERVABLE AT MONTE CARLO IN THE EARLY SPRING.--Blue Rocks. * * * * * HINTS TO TOURISTS If you are put with a friend in a double-bedded room, bear in mind that inside walls are only lath and plaster, and that every word you say will be heard in the next room. Therefore carry on your conversation at the tip-top of your voice, and make as much noise as you can in packing, and in splashing, and in stumping round your room. Always give to beggars who waylay you on the road, and if you know their language, accompany your gift with a little stagey speech to the effect that all we English have more money than we know how to spend, and it is our duty when we travel to succour the distressed. This will mightily encourage the impostors in their trade, and engender a great nuisance for tourists who are poorer or less foolish than yourself. * * * * * SHE MEANT NOTHING WRONG.--_Curate to American Visitor._ How do you like our church, Mrs. Golightly? It is very generally admired. _Mrs. Golightly._ Yes, it's very pretty, but if it only had a clock fitted on the tower, it would be _useful_ as well as ornamental. * * * * * [Illustration: TACTFUL SYMPATHY _Genial Friend._ "Hullo, old man, getting on all right?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Our artist, while staying in the country, thinks it would be a good opportunity for studying _calves_.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Yachting Man._ "Well, I always said you were a plucky fellow, Splinter; but really, now, I did not give you credit----" _Splinter_ (_not displeased_). "How do you mean?" _Yachting Man._ "Why, with your spars, to put out in such a gale o' wind as this."] * * * * * TRAVELLERS' TALES _First Traveller_ (_in the smoking-room_). I think the most marvellous sight I ever saw was when I was crossing the Bight of Benin. You know the Bight? _Second Traveller._ Perfectly. Shot two sea-serpents there last year. _Third Traveller._ I landed hard by when I cycled across Africa. _First Traveller._ Well, it was there we sighted a man who had crossed from Buenos Ayres on a hen-coop, with a cotton umbrella for a sail, and---- _Other Travellers_ (_jealously in chorus_). Oh! Come, I say! _Quiet Man_ (_in corner_). Oh, I'll vouch for the truth of the assertion. _First Traveller_ (_nettled_). How's that? _Quiet Man._ Why, _I_ was the man. [_Company disperses._ * * * * * NEXT BEST THING TO THE PERSIAN LOCOMOTIVE CARPET OF EASTERN FABLE.--The "Travelling Rug" of Western fact. * * * * * [Illustration: Brown, who has had a hard day sight-seeing, in Tunis, goes to a café for a quiet drink and rest. Result!] * * * * * A HAPPY HOLIDAY Now I really do not care a Hang about the Riviera, In the daytime you've a gay time, But the nights are very cold. And for any kind of touring, Which I used to find alluring, I for biking had a liking, But I now have grown too old. Then the constant change of weather To my thinking, altogether Knocked the notion of an ocean Trip completely on the head; I've a horror, too, of "trippers," 'Arrys, 'Arriets, and "nippers," So a jolly quiet holi- Day I spent at home in bed. * * * * * NO DIFFERENCE.--_English Customer_ (_to Manager of restaurant_). I see, Signor Maraschino, that the American gentleman and his wife who have just left drank nothing but water with their dinner. Does that make much difference in their bill? _Signor Maraschino._ Noting, sir. They pay same as yourself and lady, who 'ave champagne. Oderwise 'ow should we live? * * * * * "THE GREAT LOAN LAND."--Russia. * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT DID MR. PUNCH DO IN THE EASTER RECESS?--Volunteer review! Not a bit of it! He just popped over, and had a few days of delightful _dolce far niente_ at Venice.] * * * * * [Illustration: Papa, Maman, et Bébé s'en vont à la pêche aux crevettes.] * * * * * [Illustration: FIN DE LA SAISON.--(_At a Cercle Anglais. "Le Fiv' o'clock," i.e., Afternoon Tea._) _Britisher._ "_Coming to the ball to-night, Count?_" _Monsieur le Comte._ "Moi, mon cher? Ah, non. I am tired. I have the ache everywhere. I have play the football!" _Britisher._ "Good! What?--Forward, half-back?" _Monsieur le Comte._ "Forward! Half-back! Par exemple, I am 'Arbitre'--how you say it?--Referee!"] * * * * * IMPRESSIONS FROM ABROAD (_By Our Susceptible Subscriber_) Impressions on my hat after going down the salt mine at Berchtesgaden. Impressions on my alpenstock after looking at the Alpine Peaks from below with an opera-glass. Impressions on my nose and forehead by the mosquitoes, when I would be poetical and stay all the evening on the Rialto at Venice. Impressions on my ears by the bad language of my guide, when I refused to pay for the echoes awakened on the Rhine by an ancient howitzer. Impressions on my heart by memories of that pretty little Frenchwoman I travelled with from Turin. Impressions on my feet by her sweet little _bottines_. Impression on my mind, after Mrs. P. detected those _bottines_ too near my boots, that it would be better not to be so susceptible another time. * * * * * THOUGHT BY A TOURIST.--Too many Cook's Excursionists spoil the _table d'hôte_. * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION _Customs Official._ "Have you anything to declare?" _Absent-minded Traveller_ (_Bridge-player, just catching last word_). "Oh, leave it to you!"] * * * * * [Illustration:: INTERNATIONAL COMPARISONS _Henri Dubois_ (_who can speak English_) _to his friend 'Arry Smith_ (_who can't_). "Pardon me, mon ami! You are very pretty boy, you dress in ze most perfect 'chic'; but vy do you speak your own language so ungrammaticallé?" '_Arry._ "Why do I speak my hown langwidge so hungrammatical? 'Ang it, yer down't suppowse as I were hedgerkited at Heton or 'Arrow like a bloomin' swell, do yer?" _Henri._ "Voyez donc ça! Now in France zere is no Eton, no Harrow: all ze public schools are ze same, and ze butcher and baker's little boys go zere, and ze little candlestick-makers, and ze little boys of ze merchants of cheese like you and me!" '_Arry._ "Come, I s'y, Walker, yer know! And where do their customers' little boys go?" _Henri._ "Parbleu! Zey go zere too!!" ['_Arry, suddenly conscious of his deficiencies, feels bitterly towards his country._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: "DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES" _Old Gentleman._ "Are you certain that these life-belts are cork, and not half sawdust?" _Storeman._ "They are the best quality. We have sold hundreds, and never had a complaint!"] * * * * * HAPPY GEOGRAPHICAL THOUGHT (_when crossing the Channel in exceptionally rough weather_).--"Oh dear! What a pity that the sea everywhere can't be the Pacific Ocean!" * * * * * "THE TRAVELLERS' CLUB."--An alpenstock. * * * * * [Illustration: FOREIGN HOTELS.--"WHAT!--NO SOAP!"--"Oh--er--juste regardez ici, mademoiselle! Vous nous avez chargé pour le _savon_--et nous ne l'avons pas _usé_, vous savez, car----" "Oh, mamma! How _can_ you!" [_Poor things! they had brought their own._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LAST THING OUT.--Sensation created every morning at Crevetteville-sur-Mer by Colonel F---- (of the Guards) and the lovely Lady Magnolia D----.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PERSONAL EQUATION.--_Ducal Butler_ (_showing art treasures of Stilton Castle_). "The three Graces--after Canova!" _Mrs Ramsbotham._ "How interesting! And pray, which is the _present_ Duchess?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Her Husband_ (_going on the Continent_). "Look here, Arabella, from now you and I will speak nothing but French." _Arabella._ "_Oui._" _Her Husband._ "What did you say?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "EASIER SAID THAN DONE" _Stout Traveller_ (_in the Eastern Counties_). "My lad--which is the--quickest way--for me to get to the station?" _Street Arab._ "Wh' run bo'! 'th' else yeow'll sartain'y lewse th' tr'ine! There goo th' bell!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DESPAIR! Brown has locked his portmanteau with one of those letter padlocks and forgotten the word that opens it. [_Only ten minutes to dinner!_ ] * * * * * VIATOR'S VADE MECUM (_Or Compendious Weather-Guide for the British Tourist_) When the wind is in the North, Gingham take if you go forth. If to Eastward veer the wind, Gingham do not leave behind. If to West the wind should tend, Gingham is your surest friend. If it seek the South, of course, Gingham is your sole resource. Intermediate points demand Gingham constantly in hand. If there be no wind at all, Gingham take, for rain will fall. At all other times, no doubt, Gingham you may do without, Yet e'en then an hour may bring 'em,-- Showers I mean,--so take your Gingham! * * * * * _English Tourist_ (_in the far North, miles from anywhere_). "Do you mean to say that you and your family live here all the winter? Why, what do you do when any of you are ill? You can never get a doctor!" _Scotch Shepherd._ "Nae, sir. We've just to dee a natural death!" * * * * * _The_ PLACE IN HOT WEATHER.--Lazistan. * * * * * [Illustration: THE WATER CURE _Young Lady._ "So you've been on the Continent, Professor?" _The Professor._ "Yes, I've been to Marienbad, taking the baths, you know." _Young Lady._ "Really? That _was_ a change for you, wasn't it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Oh! con-found these country looking-glasses, though!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE HOT WEATHER _Traveller_ (_bedtime, thermometer 100°!_). "Waiter, go' sh'ch a thing as a warmin'-pan?" _Waiter_ (_astounded_). "A warming-pan, sir!" _Traveller._ "And got any ice?" _Waiter._ "Ice, sir? Yessir!" _Traveller._ "Then tell 'chamb'maid to run a pan of ice through my bed, and let me have my candle. I'll turn in!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_An Indian Station, on the eve of a Fancy Ball._--_Globe-trotting "Bounder"_ (_newly arrived_). "You're running this ball, ain't you? Is fancy dress _de rigueur_?" _Choleric Colonel_ (_who is Ball Secretary_). "Fancy dress, sir, is not _de rigueur_, but an invitation _is_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UP COUNTRY JOYS IN INDIA.--_The Mem Sahib_ (_with a view to seasonable festivities_). "I wonder if you have got such a thing as lemon peel or candied peel in your shop?" _"Europe Shop" Keeper._ "Ah, no, Mem Sahib. Onlee got it 'cockle' peel and 'beesham' peel!"] * * * * * THE TRAVELLERS' PROTECTION LEAGUE The T. P. L. commenced operations last week with regard to the unpunctuality of certain railway companies, and should be encouraged to go a little farther. We want protection against:-- 1. Passengers who try to keep us out of carriages by fictitiously placing hats and wraps on more seats or corners than they will themselves occupy. 2. Passengers who endeavour to enter carriages when we have fictitiously placed hats and wraps on more seats or corners than we shall ourselves occupy. 3. People who smoke bad tobacco in compartments where there are ladies. 4. Ladies who ride in compartments where we smoke bad tobacco. 5. Parties who insist upon having the window open when we wish it shut. 6. Parties who insist upon having the window shut when we wish it open. 7. Persons who try to squeeze in when our carriage is full. 8. Persons who try to keep us out when their carriage is full. 9. Objectionable babies. 10. Objectors to babies. And a job lot of grievances, viz.:-- 11. The British landscape, now consisting of pill advertisements. 12. Clapham Junction. 13. Bank Holiday traffic and excursionists, racing and football crowds. 14. The weather. 15. Nasty smelling smoke. 16. Irritatingly uncertain lamps. 17. The increase in the income-tax. 18. The cussedness of things in general. 19. And, lastly, the Billion Dollar Trust. If the T. P. L. will abate or abolish any or all of these nuisances we shall be very greatly obliged. * * * * * [Illustration: A TIGHT FIT _Chorus of Girls_ (_to popular party on bank_). "Oh, do come with us, there's _plenty_ of room!"] * * * * * MRS. RAMSBOTHAM was asked if she liked yachting, and she replied that she preferred _terra-cotta_. She probably meant _terra-firma_. * * * * * [Illustration: "WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST" When, after lunching sumptuously at a strange hotel in a strange part of the country, it suddenly occurs to him that he has left his purse, with all his money in it, in the mail train going North.] * * * * * AT MUNICH.--_Mr. Joddletop_ (_to travelling companion at Bierhalle_). What they call this larger beer for I'm blessed if I know! Why, it's thinner than what I drink at home. * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY RAMBLES (_With acknowledgments to the "Daily Chronicle"_) A memorable afternoon may be spent by taking the train to Muggleton, and walking from there by way of Mudford, Sloppington, Stickborough-in-the-Marsh, Drencham, St. Swithuns, and Swillingspout to Poddleton-on-the-Slosh. The whole district is full of memories of the great Hodge family (before it migrated into the towns). Quite a number of mute, inglorious Miltons are buried in Poddleton churchyard, but a few people may still be seen in the market-place on Saturdays. _Route of Ramble._--Alighting at Muggleton Station (too much reliance should not be placed upon the elocution of the local railway porter) leave the refreshment room resolutely on the left (as you will need to keep your intelligence clear), and proceed in a north-north-east-half-northerly direction along a winding lane, until Mudford Beacon appears in the rear. Then turn back across six meadows and a ploughed field, following alternately the bed of a stream and the right bank of the canal until Sloppington is reached. From there follow the boundary line between the counties of Mudshire and Slopshire as far as Stickborough: from two to seven miles further on (according to the best local computation) lies Drencham, where is a remarkable pump. Leaving this landmark south-west-by-west, veer sharply to the left twice, and pursue a zig-zag course. If, at the twenty-second field, you are not within easy reach of Swillingspout it will be because you are incapable of following this brief chronicle. From the last-named place the nearest way to Poddleton is through the railway tunnel. It is not public, but persons have sometimes succeeded in getting through. Poddleton is nine miles from a station, but an omnibus walks the distance occasionally, when the horse is not required for funerals or other purposes. _Length of Ramble._--Doubtful. Has only been done in sections. * * * * * MISS-GUIDED FOLKS IN PARIS.--Evidently those who are personally conducted by "Lady Guides." * * * * * [Illustration: "BY THE CARD" _Pedestrian._ "How far is it to Sludgecombe, boy?" _Boy._ "Why, 'bout twenty 'underd theausan' mild 'f y' goo 's y'are agooin' now, an' 'bout half a mild 'f you turn right reaound an' goo t'other way!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Traveller._ "Can you direct me to Hollow Meadows?" _Hodge_ (_who stutters frightfully_). "Ye-ye-ye-yes. You t-t-t-t-take the f-f-f-first t-t-t-t-turning on th-the right, and ku-ku-ku-keep straight on ower th' b-b-b-brig. Bu-bub-bub-but you'd bub-bub-bub-better be gu-gu-gu-gangin' on. You'll gu-gu-get there quicker th-th-th-than I can t-t-t-tell you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUCH PLEASANTER FOR ALFRED _Constance_ (_adding the last straw_). "There, darling! I hope I've forgotten nothing. And oh, Alfred! how much, _much_ pleasanter to carry our things ourselves, and be alone together, than to have a horrid servant trotting behind us, and listening to every word we say!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOMETHING FROM THE PROVINCES _Excursionist_ (_politely_). "Can you kindly direct me the nearest way to Slagley?" _Powerful Navvy._ "Ah can poonch th' head o' thee!" _[Excursionist retires hastily._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE COLONIAL TOUR _Famous Pianist._ "Himmel! how hot it is! I really think I might just have half an inch cut off--just round the nape of my neck you know. Just _thinned_ a little----" _His Agent._ "Out of the question, my boy. Remember clause seven in the agreement--'Your hair not to be cut till the last concert in Australia is over'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EVOLUTION EXTRAORDINARY _British Tourist_ (_who has been served with a pig's foot_). "What's this? I ordered quail!" _Negro Waiter._ "Wall--y'ev got quail!" _British Tourist._ "Quail! Why a quail's a bird!" _Negro Waiter._ "_Not here!_"] * * * * * THE IDEAL HOLIDAY Come, Phyllis, for the season is already on the wane, And the question of our holiday perplexes once again; Now every jaded Londoner fresh stores of vigour seeks, Our problem is how best to pass these few and fleeting weeks. As one by one each watering-place we call to mind in turn As promptly some objection to each one we discern; Thus Scarborough's too chilly, and Ilfracombe too hot, And this too near, and that too dear, that sandy and this not. The Alps are always overrun and crowded as Cheapside, And the garlic-reeking South I own I never could abide; The _Bads_--Aix, Vichy, Taunus, Homburg, Carlsbad, Neuenahr, Are either vulgar, crowded, dull, expensive, or too far. Oh, for some new and lone retreat, nor far away nor near, With lovely sights to charm the eye, soft sounds to soothe the ear; Where vexed and wearied spirits, such as yours and mine, might rest, And find in life new purpose, in its joys unwonted zest; Some Aidenn, some Elysium of rapturous delight, Where peace should reign unbroken from the dawn to fall of night! Yet since for the impossible in vain we yearn, 'tis clear, It will end no doubt as usual, in "Good old Margate," dear. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE _VALET_ OF THE NILE" Much talked about, but very seldom seen!] * * * * * "A railway from Joppa to Jerusalem" sounds like a Scriptural line. In future, "going to Jericho" will not imply social banishment, as the party sent thither will be able to take a return-ticket. * * * * * SO NICE AND SYMPATHETIC.--A gentleman, whose one glass eye had served him for years, had the misfortune to drop it. It smashed to atoms. This happened when he was far away in the country. He inquired of a friend where was the nearest place for him to go and get refitted. "Why don't you call upon the girl you were flirting with all last night?" his friend inquired. "She has a first-class reputation for making eyes." * * * * * BALLOONERY.--"We went spinning through the air!" said an enthusiastic aeronaut, describing his recent trial trip. "Indeed!" observed his companion, meditatively. "Judging by your description it sounds as if you had been in an 'heir-loom' instead of an 'air-ship.'" * * * * * AT BRUSSELS.--_Mrs. Trickleby_ (_pointing to an announcement in grocer's window, and spelling it out_). _Jambon d'Yorck._ What's that mean, Mr. T.? _Mr. T_. (_who is by way of being a linguist_). Why, good Yorkshire preserves, of course. What did you suppose it was--Dundee marmalade? * * * * * [Illustration: "CAUTION! THIS HILL IS DANGEROUS!"] * * * * * TO ABSENT FRIENDS. (_By a Fox without a Tail._) Dear Brown and Jones and Robinson and many thousands more, Now spending dismal holidays on some dank sea-girt shore, You, who affect to pity those compelled in town to stay, Should rather envy us, because we cannot get away. While you are hiring tiny rooms at many pounds a week, And huddle there and watch parades that run with rain, and reek, Contrast my cheerful aspect with your discontented looks, As here I stay at ease among my pictures and my books. Here in the trains the traveller can now find ample space, Enjoying elbow-room without a struggle for a place: The choicest dishes are not "off" at half-past one to lunch, And no one spoils our appetite with--"After you with _Punch_!" The dainty shops of Regent Street teem with their treasures still, The Park with all its beauties we can now enjoy at will; No longer do the jostling crowds provoke an angry frown, But leisurely we relish the amenities of town. Thus basking in the keen delights that empty London owns (Though from my heart I pity you--Brown, Robinson and Jones), So long as you may care to stay, and business is slack, I cannot honestly declare I long to see you back. * * * * * [Illustration: TRIPPERS _Tommy_ (_his first visit_). "Will it be like this all d-d-d-day daddy?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Billiard Enthusiast_ (_having mistaken his room at the hotel, holding on to knobs of bed_). "Which do you prefer, sir? Spot or plain?"] * * * * * When the chairman of a railway company speaks of "the diversion of traffic," may it be understood that "pleasure trips and excursions" are covered by this expression? * * * * * [Illustration: ENGLAND AND GERMANY _British Nimrod_ (_who has shot tigers in India, and lions in South Africa_). "The fact is, Herr Muller, that I don't care much for sport unless it contains the element of danger." _German Nimrod._ "Ach zo? you are vont of _taincher_? Den you should gom ant shood mit _me_! Vy, only de oder tay I shoodet my broder-in-law in de shdômag!"] * * * * * CUTTING A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.--_Major Longi'th'Bow._ I met a Brahmin once with "John Smith, London," carved on his back. You see he was standing motionless in one of those pious trances which nothing is allowed to interrupt. In this state he was found by a cheap-tripper, who took him for a statue and cut his name as usual. * * * * * AT FLORENCE.--_First Tourist._ Hullo! Barkins, what brought you here? _Second Tourist_ (_facetiously_). The railway, of course. And you? _First Tourist_ (_getting mixed, but thinking he has his friend_). My wife's wish to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa! * * * * * SUITABLE SPOTS.--_Gainsborough_--for greedy tradesmen; _Gnosall_--for wiseacres; _Gravesend_--for sextons; _Great Barr_--for constant topers; _Grind-on_--for crammers; _Halt-whistle_--for football umpires; _Hastings_--for wasps; _Hawkshead_--for falconers; _Honi-ton_--for busy bees; _Hoot-on_--for owls. * * * * * CRY OF THE TRAVELLING SMOKER.--_En_ briar root! * * * * * [Illustration: SNUB FOR A SNOB _English Tourist._ "Aw--that buttermilk was very nice, my dear. What payment do you expect for it?" _Cottage Girl._ "We wouldn't be after asking any payment. Sure we _give_ it to the pigs!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MISPLACED SYMPATHY (_The "Boots" at the Shadow of Death Hotel, in the back block of Australia, on seeing a pair of boot-trees for the first time._) "I say, Billy, that poor bloke in the bed-room must 'ave ad a terrible accident. He's got two wooden feet!"] * * * * * _Mrs. Tripper_ (_examining official notice on the walls of Boulogne_). What's that mean, Tripper, "Pas de Calais"? _Tripper_ (_who is proud of his superior acquaintance with a foreign language_). It means--"Nothing to do with Calais," my dear. These rival ports are dreadfully jealous of one another. * * * * * [Illustration: WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS, &c. _Jones._ "I say, what's the exact meaning of 'voilà'?" _Brown._ "Well, I should translate it as 'behold,' or 'there you are,' or something like that." _Jones._ "Confound it! I've been using it for the last month and thinking I've been swearing in French!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BASHAN, NEAR BARMOUTH The worst of Wales is, the wild beasts are so numerous and inquisitive.] * * * * * [Illustration: GEOLOGY.--_Scientific Pedestrian._ "Do you find any fossils here?" _Excavator._ "Dunno what you calls 'vossuls.' We finds nowt here but muck and 'ard work!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC ON THE WATERS.--_Parker._ "Beg pardon, my lady, but the band can't play the selection your ladyship asked for." _Her Ladyship_ (_astonished_). "But it's in their programme!" _Parker._ "Yes, my lady, but they can't play it till we get into still water, and _then they'll try_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE COMFORTER.--"I say, old man, I've just been down in the saloon, and they give you the finest half-crown lunch I've ever struck!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A MOOT POINT.--_Mrs. Brown_ (_on her honeymoon_). "Oh, aren't you glad, darling, we have come this delightful tour, instead of going to one of those stupid foreign places?" [_Darling is not quite sure about it, as the hills are of terrible frequency, and, naturally, he tows his bride up every one._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: BAD HABITS GROW APACE.--_Traveller_ (_whose train is due_). "Look here, I'm going to get out and walk. That brute will make me miss my train!" _Jarvey._ "Kape still, surr. For the love av' Moses, kape still. Sure an' if the ould blayguard bates us, I'll niver get him up to the station no more!"] * * * * * THE TRAVELLERS TRICKED (_An à propos Duologue_) _She_ (_with resolution_). Charlie, I want to ask your pardon. I have made a mistake. _He._ Yes, dear; which of them? _She._ You shall not put me out by sneering. Yes, I have made a mistake; and when I make a mistake, I do not fail to acknowledge it. _He._ Quite right, dear. Nothing like having a congenial occupation. _She._ Charlie, we came back to town prematurely. _He._ Yes, dear; we certainly curtailed our stay in Paris a little to allow of your purchasing that pretty bonnet. _She._ It cost a lot of money, Charlie. _He._ It did, dear; but I did not grudge it, as you and the shop girl said it was of the first mode and the greatest novelty in Paris. _She._ Yes, Charlie; and I believed her. _He._ Well, I am sure that the three or four days we cut off were well worth it, to buy the bonnet. _She._ How good, how noble of you to say so! _He._ Not at all; I was really glad to get back to the club. And you have your bonnet--a real genuine French bonnet! And the most Parisian shape imaginable. _She_ (_with an effort_). The shape is not Parisian. _He._ Not Parisian! Where does it come from? _She._ I see from a ticket in the lining it was made in the Edgware Road. [_Tears and curtain._ * * * * * AT WINDSOR.--_American Traveller_ (_to Waiter at the "Blue Stag"_). Say, is it true that you've got a real live ghost here? _Waiter._ Yessir. Believed to be either Cardinal Garnet Wolseley, 'Erne the 'Untsman, Queen Elizabeth, or the late King of the Belgiums. _American Traveller._ Thanks. Send for the local reporter, if off duty in any one capacity. * * * * * SUITABLE SPOTS.--_Ware-ham_--for abstainers from pork; _Whits-table_--for facetious gourmets; _Wig-more_--for bald men; _Wig-ton_--for perruquiers; _Winfarthing_--for small gamblers; _Wo-burn_--for firemen. * * * * * [Illustration: NOSÉ IN EGITTO; OR, AUTOMOBILITY IN THE LAND OF THE SPHINX. "One touch of _Punch_ makes the whole world kin."] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF PROPORTION.--_Colonel Peppercorn_ (_who is touring in France with a hired chauffeur and car, which has broken down_). "Confound it all, you say it's nothing? Then why don't you repair it?" _Alphonse Legros._ "Mais, monsieur, pas possible, he break below! I cannot arrive there! He is only quinze centimètres from ze ground; but me--voilà--I have one mètre round ze chest!"] * * * * * THE SKELETON TOURIST'S VADE MECUM _Question._ What is your object this year? _Answer._ To follow the precedent of former Summers, and get over as much ground as possible. _Q._ How do you manage this? _A._ With the assistance of a ticket guaranteed to make distance a greater consideration than scenery. _Q._ Is it necessary to examine the places _en route_ with much careful consideration? _A._ Certainly not, as the Guide-book of the place visited will supply the compulsory omissions. _Q._ What are compulsory omissions? _A._ Objects of interest left out for want of time to give them an inspection. _Q._ How long would you give St. Peter's at Rome? _A._ A quarter of an hour, and the Colosseum at the same place ten minutes. _Q._ Could you not spare more time than this from your holiday? _A._ No; for luncheon and dinner have to be taken into consideration in the touring table. _Q._ What object of interest would you examine in the Land of the Midnight Sun? _A._ The sun at midnight, if it happened to be shining. _Q._ And if you visited the Rhine by the railway, what object of interest would chiefly attract your attention? _A._ The interior of the compartment in which you happened to be travelling. _Q._ What advantage would you derive from your tour? _A._ The satisfaction of explaining to non-tourists where you had been rather than what you had seen. _Q._ Do you consider that your mind would derive much benefit from your rapid locomotion? _A._ Not much, nor my body either. _Q._ But I presume your outing would justify the title of this Vade Mecum? _A._ Most certainly; because, by the end of your journey, you might accurately describe your condition as one who had been reduced to a skeleton. * * * * * [Illustration: _Nervous Tourist._ "Stop, driver, stop! There's something wrong! I am sure a wheel's coming off!" _Driver._ "Arrah, be aisy then, yer honour. Sure, it's the same one's been comin' off thin these three days back!"] * * * * * [Illustration: (_Sketched on the pier just after the arrival of the boat._) _'Arry_ (_viewing stormy sea in a mutoscope_). "My eye, Maria, come an' 'ave a look 'ere. The motion of the waives is simply grand!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CONTINENTAL TRIP.--_First Man_ (_tasting beer_). "Hullo! I ordered lager. This isn't lager!" _Second Man_ (_tasting_). "No; but it's jolly good, all the same!" _Third Man_ (_tasting_). "C'est magnifique! mais ce n'est pas lager-r-r!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE GRAND TOUR.--Scene--_Staircase of the Palazzo Bianco._--(_Enter the Joneses of London._) _Chorus of Maidens._ "O, ma, dear! O, papa! do look! _Isn't_ this charming? _Isn't_ it delightful? Only fancy--the _Bragginton Smiths_ were here last month!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FAULT OF THE FOWL SCENE--_Coffee-Room, Hotel, Guernsey._ _Visitor_ (_gazing at a guinea-fowl's egg_). "Waiter! Can you tell me what egg this is?" _Waiter._ "Oh, sir, it's a Guernsey egg. They sometimes lays them like that. It's not done in the boiling!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CORRECTED.--_Lady Tourist_ (_doing the cathedrals of Scotland_). "This is _Gothic_, isn't it, John?" _Juvenile Vendor of "Guides"_ (_severely_). "No, mem, _this is Presbyterian_."] * * * * * At HOMBURG-V.-D.-H.--_Colonel Twister_ (_in the hotel smoking-room_). Yes! I once played a game of pool at Senecarabad, holding the cue in my teeth, and captured all the loot! _Captain Longbow._ Pooh! That's nothing! About a month ago I matched myself at shell-out against Fred Fandango, and clutching the cue between my toes, walked in lying on my back! _Colonel Twister_ (_taken unawares_). But how the deuce did you manage to see the table? _Captain Longbow._ See the table? Why, had the cloth lighted with Röntgen rays, of course! Saw through the slate! [_The Colonel abruptly says "Good Night" to the company, and leaves for Schlangenbad next morning._ * * * * * FORCE OF HABIT.--Recently two bankers met abroad. They at once began to compare notes. * * * * * NEW NAME FOR SEA-SICKNESS.--_Mal de Little Mary._ * * * * * MRS. RAMSBOTHAM wants to know whether the inhabitants of the Fiji Islands are called the Fijits. * * * * * [Illustration: YOUNG AUSTRALIA SCENE--_Highland Gathering in the Antipodes._ "Well, my little man, so you're Scotch, eh?" "Nae, nae, a'am nae Scotch, but ma pairents is."] * * * * * [Illustration: A SENSATIONAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS AND FIVE TABLEAUX. (_Showing how he got in for it and how he came out of it rather the worse for "wear"._) MR. JOGGLES HAVING CAREFULLY SELECTED A RETIRED SPOT DEPOSITED HIS CLOTHES IN A CAVE SEES A LITTLE WAY BELOW HIM A SPARKLING POOL FED BY A TORRENT FROM ABOVE--A NATURAL SHOWER BATH, INTO WHICH HE WILL JOYFULLY DESCEND. THIS IS WHAT HE EXPECTED BEFORE TAKING A DIP. BUT A PICNIC PARTY HAVING TERMINATED THEIR LUNCHEON, UNWITTINGLY REARRANGE MATTERS. MR. JOGGLES IS COMPELLED TO REMAIN OVER HIS USUAL TIME IN HIS BATH. IN THE MEANTIME THE GOATS HAVE BEEN BUSY WITH HIS CLOTHES.] * * * * * FOR A CHANGE Fagged and jaded, Daphne mine, For our annual change I pine. Once again the problem's here, Whither we shall go this year. Let who will seek lake or moor, "_Bad_" or hydro, spa or "_kur_," Switzerland and Germany Have no charms for you and me. There while restless tourists haste, "Good old Margate" suits our taste. On its old familiar ground We will make the usual round. Meet Smith, Robinson and Brown, Whom we daily see in town; Hear the niggers or the bands On the pier, the fort, the sands; Revel in each well-known joy, Then, when these enchantments cloy, And for change again we yearn, Why, then, Daphne, we'll return. * * * * * THE number of stowaways who secrete themselves in big vessels is becoming a growing evil. A Norwegian barquantine reached Plymouth on Friday with an entire cargo of hides. * * * * * A VERY REVOLTING PLACE.--Brazil. * * * * * [Illustration: French Tourist, on a visit to London for the first time, makes a note in his pocket-book of the name of the street in which his hotel is situated.] * * * * * À BERLIN.--Although Berlin is "on the Spree," its cheerfulness is considerably discounted by "the Oder" in its vicinity. * * * * * [Illustration: "JOINT OCCUPATION" (_Suggested by Cook's Tourist in Egypt._)] * * * * * OVERHEARD AT CHAMONIX.--_Stout British Matron_ (_in a broad British accent, to a slim diligence driver_). Êtes-vous la diligence? _Driver._ Non, madame, mais j'en suis le cocher. _Matron_ (_with conviction_). C'est la même chose; gardez pour moi trois places dans votre intérieur demain. * * * * * [Illustration: PHILLIPOPOLIS _Toper Major_ (_over their third bottle of a Grand Vin_). "I shay, ol' f'ler, neksh year thinksh'll go see ex'bishun at Ph-Phipp at Philup-popple----" _Toper Minor._ "I know, ol' f'ler. You mean Philipoppoppo--poppo----" _Toper Major._ "Thatsh it--shame place. Have 'nother bo'l!" [_They drink._ ] * * * * * NOT SO PRETTY IN ENGLISH (_Three Friends meet at Monte Carlo._) _First Friend._ No, I'm not staying here. Just run over from Canes. _Second F._ And I from Fat. _Third F._ And I'm with my people at Chin. [We presume the travellers referred to Cannes, Grasse, and Menton.--ED.] * * * * * A WHITSUN HOLIDAY. (_A Page from a Modern Diary._) _Monday._--Up with the lark. Breakfast not ready. Spent my spare time in closing the boxes. Got the family into the train with difficulty. Devoted the day to travelling. Reached our destination tired out. Glad to get to bed. _Tuesday._--Up with the lark. Did the sights. Had no time to look at anything, as I had to attend to the tickets. Saw all the museums. My party coming out when I had got the catalogues. So managed our visits that there was no opportunity of discussing meals. Got back in time for _table d'hôte_, but preferred sleep to food. Went to bed. _Wednesday._--Up with the lark. Off again travelling. On the road all day. Having to fit in the corresponding trains, had no leisure for meals. Arrived at our new resting-place late at night. So off as quickly as possible to bed. _Thursday._--Up with the lark. Spent the morning in sight-seeing under the customary conditions. Waited upon the family. Looked after the catalogues and umbrellas. Food again at a discount. Dispensed with dinner. Glad to get to bed. _Friday._--Up with the lark. Time to return. Back again by a train. No food. No rest. Halfway home. Arrived in time to see the lights being put out. Off to bed. _Saturday._--Up with the lark. Continued my journey post-haste. Wrote up my diary. Find that I have got over several hundreds of miles; but for the life of me cannot remember anything that I have seen. Don't recollect any square meal. Back again, tired, and only pleased to be in bed. _Sunday._--Sleeping. _Monday._--Up with the lark. Recovered from my week's "rest," and glad to get back again to work. * * * * * BY A SEA-SICK PASSENGER _MARE! Mare_! Most contrary, Why do you tumble so? While you heave and swell One can't feel well, And--I think I'll go below! * * * * * MOTTO FOR AMERICAN MILLIONAIRESSES.-- "Marry, come up!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Scientific and Nervous Visitor at Country Hotel._ "I suppose there's no 'ptomaine' in this pie?" _Waiter_ (_equal to the occasion_). "No, sir. We never puts that in unless specially ordered!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DARTMOOR WAY.--_Tourist_ (_in background_). "I say! Percy! We'd better be going now--unless you can see anything striking from where you are!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_Railway Refreshment Room. Thermometer 90° in the Shade._ _Waiter_ (_to traveller taking tea_). "Beg pardon, sir, I shouldn't recommend that milk, sir; leastways not for _drinking_ purposes."] * * * * * [Illustration: HALCYON PROSPECTS.--_Romantic Bride_ (_ecstatically_). "Such a waste of waters almost appals me!" _Prudent Husband_ (_fondly_). "What a dear little economist it is!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tourist._ "Wasn't there a great battle fought about here?" _Village Dame._ "Ah, I do mind it when I were a gell, I do. They was----" _Tourist._ "But, my good woman, that was nearly six hundred years ago!" _Village Dame_ (_unabashed_). "Dear, dear! How time do fly!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "And she only charged eight-and-a-half guineas, and"--(_Interruption from Husbands._ "Isn't the view marvellous!" _General chorus in reply._ "Oh--er--_Yes!_")--"and now I simply go there for everything!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FRENCH AND ENGLISH (_as zey are spoke at ze country 'ouse_).--_Hostess._ "Oh--er--j'espair ker voos avvy troovy votre--votre--er--er--votre _collar stud_, barrong?" _M. le Baron._ "Oh, I zank you, yes! I find 'eem on my _chest of trowsers_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PERAMBULATORS NOT ADMITTED A DISAPPOINTMENT. [To _perambulate_; v.n., in German, _spazieren_; in French, _se promener_; in Italian, _passeggiare_.]--_Johann Schmidt._ "Ach! vat a bitty, Mister Chones! Zen ve must not go therein to berampulate?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Chatty Tourist._ "Beautiful specimen of a Roman camp, this, isn't it?" _Grim Stranger._ "_No_, sir, _no_! I decline to admit that there can be _any_ true beauty about anything _Roman_!"] * * * * * TWO LAST WORDS TO SWITZERLAND (_By a British Tourist and Family Man_) On Uri's lake, in Küsnacht's dell, What is the thought can almost quell Thy patriot memory, oh TELL? _Hotel!_ Whether by blue crevasse we reel, Or list the avalanche's peal, What question blends with all we feel?-- _Wie Viel?_ * * * * * [Illustration: LUSUS NATURÆ _Excursion Tourist._ "Most extr'or'nary cre'char!" _Facetious Rustic._ "Ah! that a be, measter, bred on this 'ere wery fa-arm he wor, tew!"] * * * * * MORE ENGLISH AS SHE IS WROTE.--At an hotel at Socrabaja in Java is this notice:-- "From the hours fixed for meals on no account will be deviated. For damage to furniture the proprietor will avenge himself on the person committing the same." * * * * * "TIRED NATURE."--A yawning gulf. * * * * * [Illustration: OUR BORES, NATIVE AND FOREIGN "Ach! I schbeague Enklish not vell, not vell at all! Pot, py a leadle bractice, I imbrove ver kvick! Vait till I haf talk to you for a gopple of hours, and you shall see!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SCENE AT THE "LUCULLUS" _Mrs. Blunderby._ "Now, my dear Monty, let me order the luncheon ar-la-fraingsy. Gassong! I wish to begin--as we always do in Paris, my dears--with some _chef-d'oeuvres_--you understand--some _chef-d'oeuvres_." [_Emile, the waiter, is in despair. It occurs to him, however, presently that the lady probably meant "Hors d'oeuvres," and acts accordingly._ ] * * * * * TO A WELSH LADY (_Written at Clovelly_) The reason why I leave unsung Your praises in the Cymric tongue You know, sweet Nelly; You recollect your poet's crime-- How, when he tried to sing "the time," He made "the place" and "loved one" rhyme, You and Dolgelly! But now, although a shocking dunce, I've learnt, in part, the Welsh pronunc- iation deathly. I dream of you in this sweet spot, And for your sake I call it what Its own inhabitants do not-- That is "Clovethly"! * * * * * AT WHITBY.--_Visitor_ (_to Ancient Mariner, who has been relating his experiences to crowd of admirers_). Then do you mean to tell us that you actually reached the North Pole? _Ancient Mariner._ No, sir; that would be a perwersion of the truth. But I seed it a-stickin' up among the ice just as plain as you can this spar, which I plants in the sand. It makes me thirsty to think of that marvellous sight, we being as it were parched wi' cold. [_A. M.'s distress promptly relieved by audience._ * * * * * THE WALKING ENGLISHWOMAN ON THE ALPS [Illustration] You who look at home so charming-- Angel, goddess, nothing less-- Do you know you're quite alarming In that dress? Such a garb should be forbidden; Where's the grace an artist loves? Think of dainty fingers hidden In those gloves! Gloves! A housemaid would not wear them, Shapeless, brown and rough as sacks, Thick! And yet you often tear them With that axe! Worst of all, unblacked, unshiny-- Greet them with derisive hoots-- Clumsy, huge! For feet so tiny! Oh, those boots! * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_Verandah of Swiss Hotel_ _Brown_ (_finishing very lengthy account of Alpine adventure_). "And then, Miss Jones, then, just as dawn was breaking, I heard the voices of the guides above me, and I knew that I was saved--actually saved! My feelings, as I realised this, may be more easily imagined than described!" _Miss Jones_ (_fervently_). "Thank Heaven!" [_And Brown fondly imagined she was alluding to his escape_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTIOUS _Visitor_ (_at out-of-the-way Inn in the North_). "Do you know anything about salmon-poaching in the neighbourhood?" _Landlady_ (_whose son is not above suspicion_). "Eh--no, sir. Maybe it's a new style of cooking as we haven't heard of in these parts, as you see, sir, we only do our eggs that way; and"--(_brightening up_)--"if you like 'em, I can get you a dish at once!"] * * * * * THE SEVEN AGES OF LUGGAGE _Baby._ Perambulator, bottle, robe, fingerless gloves and woollen shoes. _Schoolboy._ Bat, ball, and aids to education. _Lover._ Guitar, music-book, writing materials, and fur-lined overcoat. _Justice._ Capon in basket, robes, and treatise upon ancient saws and modern instances. _Soldier._ Sword, uniform case, standard work upon Reputation. _Pantaloon._ Sausages, property red-hot poker, costume of motley, slippers and spectacle case. _Veteran._ Travels without luggage. * * * * * A GREAT TRAVELLER.--Dr. Watts was evidently in the habit of making pedestrian excursions on the Continent, for in one of his noblest lines, he expressly says-- "Whene'er I take my walks abroad." * * * * * INNOCENT ABROAD.--You are misled in your view that the _Cours de Cuisine_, mentioned in the prospectus of a French school, means the run of the kitchen. * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE SWISS HIGHLANDS.--_Brown._ "This is rather a pretty figure. You start on the left foot, cut a drop three--then----" (_Bump_) _Little Girl_ (_unmoved_). "Oh, _that's_ why it's called a drop three, Mr. Brown!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Photographer_ (_on tour, absent-mindedly_). "Now smile, please!"] * * * * * AT THE CELESTIAL RESTAURANT.--_Customer_ (_indignantly_). Hi! waiter, what do you call this soup? _Waiter_ (_meekly_). I not know, sir, but ze padrone tell me to describe 'im Cockstail! * * * * * [Illustration: _Traveller_ (_snap-shotting tropical river, suddenly confronted by hippopotamus_). "Just keep like that one moment, please!" (_Rapturously_) "Such a delightful expression!"] * * * * * NOTE BY OUR TRAVELLER--At a station on the Elham Valley Line, "Kentish Pianos" are advertised. Are these adapted for playing only dance tunes, and therefore specially serviceable in a "Hop" county? * * * * * EASTER HOLIDAYS (_By One who has tried them_) Must really decide where to go for five or six days at Easter. Weather always awful. Usual Springtime. North-east wind, frost, snow and dust. Something like last week. Can't stop in London. One Sunday or Bank Holiday in London mournful enough. But four of them consecutively! Impossible! Innocent persons go to the south coast of England, thinking that fifty miles nearer the equator one is in quite a different climate. Bournemouth? Bosh! All sandy dust and depressing invalids. Torquay? Twaddle! Probably rain all the time, if not snow. England no good. Scotland or Ireland? Worse! Must go, as people say vaguely, "abroad." How about Paris? North-east wind, frost, snow and dust, worse than here. Streets windy, theatres draughty, cafés and restaurants suffocating. Brussels? Nothing but rain. Aix-les-Bains? Probably snow. Nice? That might do. No frost or snow, but very likely a north-east wind and certainly lots of dust. Besides, thirty hours' journey out and thirty hours' journey back, would only leave about sixty hours there. No good. Rome, Seville, Constantinople, Cairo? Still farther. Should have to leave on the return journey before I arrived. Where can I go to at Easter to be warm and comfortable, without so much trouble? I know. To bed! * * * * * REGARDLESS OF THE TEMPERATURE.--_Facetious Australian_ (_off Calshot Castle, to indisposed friend_). What arm of the sea reminds one of a borrowed boot? _The "I. F."_ (_feebly_). Give it--anything--up. _F. A._ Why, the _Sole-lent_, to be sure. [_The "I. F." is promptly carried below._ * * * * * AT BATH.--_Wiffling_ (_sympathetically_). Here on account of the waters? _Piffling._ No, unhappily. Here on account of the whiskies. * * * * * "A QUESTION OF THE HOUR."--Asking a railway porter the time of the next train's departure for your holiday resort. * * * * * [Illustration: Scene--_The Summit of Vesuvius_ _American Tourist_ (_to the world at large_). "Great snakes, it reminds me of hell!" _English Tourist._ "My dear, how these Americans _do_ travel!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Friend_ (_below_). "All you've got to do when I throw you the rope is to make it fast to that projection over your head, and lower yourself down!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE CHURCH-GOING BELL" Sunday morning, coast of Norway. (_By our Yachting Artist._)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Parson._ "Yes, on one occasion I married four couples in a quarter of an hour. Quick work, wasn't it?" _Nautical Young Lady._ "Yes, rather! Sixteen knots an hour!"] * * * * * TO MY AIRSHIP [_The poet is being piloted on his aerial flight by a prosaic mechanician. It is to the latter that the interpolations are due._] Thou elfin Puck, thou child of master mind! (Look out! the ballast's slipping off behind.) Thou swanlike Siren of the blue sublime! (Screw up that nut, and never mind the rhyme.) Thine 'tis to fathom Æther's highest pole! (This wind will fairly get us in a hole.) Thine to explore the azure-vaulted dome! (I wonder how the deuce we're going home.) Up, up, thou speedest, flaunting, flaunting high, Thy glist'ring frame emblazon'd 'gainst the sky; And myriad-minded fancies still pursue Thy gliding--(Blow! the anchor's fouled the screw!) Thou stormy petrel, kissing heaven's height, (Petrol! The rotten stuff declines to light) Onward thou soarest o'er the City's dust Shimmering, triumphant. (Gad! The motor's bust!) * * * * * _Q._ Give the French for "a policeman's beat." _A._ _Un tour de Force._ * * * * * _Q._ What is the difference between a traveller and a popular vegetable? _A._ One has been abroad and the other's a broad bean. [_Exit Querier rapidly._ * * * * * [Illustration: THE AMERICAN RUSH.--_American Tourist._ "Say, how long will it take to see over the ruins?" _Caretaker._ "About an hour, sir." _American Tourist._ "And how long will it take you to tell us about it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Is this your favourite view, poppa darling?" "Why, certainly. But--ahem!--I prefer it _unframed_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COLD COMFORT.--_Visitor to the West Indies_ (_who has been warned against bathing in the river because of alligators, but has been told by the boatman that there are none at the river's mouth_). "By jove, this is ripping! But, I say, how do you know there are no alligators here?" _Boatman._ "Well, you see, sah, de alligator am so turr'ble feared ob de shark!"] * * * * * OVER THE SEA. DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I read that two new cures for sea sickness have just been discovered: the one the eating of bananas; the other, found out by Professor Heinz, of Erlangen, who declares that the malady proceeds from the lobe of the brain, and that to avert it one has only to breathe freely. As to the Professor's theory about breathing freely, I can safely assert that I never open my mouth so wide as when crossing the Channel, but the experiment is an unpleasant failure. Your obedient servant, DIONYSIUS DABELRISK. _Peckham Rye._ * * * * * AT THE GRAND HOTEL, PARIS.--_Blithers_ (_of romantic turn of mind, to Smithers, after observing a young couple in close conversation in the court yard_). I'm sure they're engaged. I heard her call him Harry! _Smithers_ (_a matter-of-fact man_). What of that? I call my housemaid Emily! He's most probably her footman. [_Smithers calls for absinthe._ * * * * * [Illustration: WELL MEANT, BUT----. _Motorist_ (_with heated cylinders_). "Where can I get some water?" _Rustic._ "There beant noo watter hereaboots--but ye can have a sup at my tea!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A difficult pass] [Illustration: A kneesy climb] [Illustration: A smiling valley] [Illustration: A magnificent gorge] * * * * * BY THE SILVER SEA.--_Seaside. Tripper--none too clean in appearance--charters bathing machine. Smart-looking schoolboy_ (_about to enter next machine_), _loq._ I say, ma, I wish that dirty fellow wouldn't bathe here. _Mamma._ Why, Tommy? If people of that sort were to bathe, they'd be as clean as you, you know. _Tommy_ (_eyeing Tripper closely_). Not in once, mamma! * * * * * [Illustration: AN APPRECIATION (_Train entering Venice_) _Fair American._ "Waal, I guess this is where the Adriatic slops over!"] * * * * * SUMMER RESORTS DREARDON-CUM-SLOOZE. Spring weather, in pleasing variety of sun and snow-shower, now prevails in this highly fla--favoured locality. Mr. Josiah Jorker, Chairman of the Rural District Council here, has bought four black Berkshire pigs, and to lean over the yard gate and inspect them is now a regular afternoon occupation. Discussion as to their merits runs high amongst our local magnates. Situate as this health-giving village is, it offers to the tired brain-worker complete rest, as there is no railway station within six miles, and only the day-before-yesterday's newspaper is obtainable. CHAWBOODLECUM. A fine bracing N.E. wind has dried the roads, and, amongst the aged and sick, made a clearance, thoroughly in accord with the "survival of the fittest" doctrine. Trade has never been more brisk with the local undertaker and the much-respected sexton. The cricket club opens its season to-day with a match against the neighbouring village of Sludgely. A "Sing-Song," or "Free and Easy," is held every Saturday night at the "Pig and Puppy-Dog," at which well-known hostelry visitors can find every accommodation. SLACKINGTON. In this genial and mild air, where a steady, gentle rain falls on very nearly every day in the year, the Londoner, fleeing from the trying east winds of Spring, may find a welcome refuge. It is quite a pretty sight on Sundays to watch the people with their different coloured waterproofs stream out of church. There is a rumour that the present supply of cabs will shortly be augmented by one, if not two, fresh vehicles. On Monday last a German band played a charming selection of music in the market place, and there was a dog-fight in the High Street. PORKBURY. This charming spot only requires to be known, to insure plenty of patronage from visitors. The new pump is being pushed forward rapidly, and the Vicar intends to hold jumble sales once a week throughout the summer. This, in itself, will, it is expected, prove a great attraction. Police-Constable Slummers, whose urbanity and great consideration for the inhabitants (especially on Saturday nights) have always been so conspicuous, is about to leave, and some of the more prominent townsmen have taken the opportunity of marking their sense of his valuable services by presenting him with a handsome pewter pot, engraved with his name and the date. A piano-organist now regularly attends the weekly market, and his music is greatly appreciated by those engaged in buying and selling. At the Farmer's Eighteenpenny Ordinary, last week, Mr. Chumpjaw stated that his mangolds were "the whackin'est big 'uns" grown in the county. * * * * * AT BOULOGNE.--_Mrs. Sweetly_ (_on her honeymoon_). Isn't it funny, Archibald, to see so many foreigners about? And all talking French! * * * * * PATRON SAINT OF MESSRS. COOK.--St. Martin of "Tours." * * * * * [Illustration: _Englishman_ (_to friend_). "There goes that awful liar, who says he has climbed everything under the sun." _Friend._ "Don't call him a liar. Rather say he has a great talent for exaggerating things that never happened."] * * * * * [Illustration: A PLEASANT UNCERTAINTY.--_Gigantic Guide._ "Ze last party zat was 'ere--no one knew whezzer zey _shumped_ over or was _thrown_ over!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SLIGHT "MALONGTONGDEW" _Angelina._ "There are to be illuminations and fireworks, and they're to finish up with an 'ombrasmong général.' What can that be?" _Edwin._ "Well, 'ombasser' means to 'kiss'; so I suppose it means a kind of a sort of a general kissing all round." _Angelina._ "Horrid idea! I won't go near the place, and I'm sure you shan't, Edwin!" [Our readers, who know French better than E. and A., are aware that embrasement, with only one "s," has a totally different meaning. ] * * * * * [Illustration: HONEYMOONING IN PARIS.--_Mrs. Jones._ "Am I not an expensive little wifie?" _Jones_ (_who has spent the morning and a small fortune at the Magasin du Louvre_). "Well, you _are_ a little dear!"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUID PRO QUO.--_Madame Gaminot._ "Oh yes, Monsieur Jones, J'_adore_ les Anglais! Zey understand bisnesse! For example, zey pay me sixty pound--fifteen 'undred franc--to sing 'La Blanchisseuse du Tambour-Major' at a evening party! It seem a great deal! But zey laugh, and zey say, 'Oh, sharmong! Oh, ravissong!' and it mek everybody sink zat everybody else know French--it almost mek zem sink zat zey know it zemselfs!!! Ça vaut bien quinze cents francs, j'espère!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tourist_ (_at small Irish inn, miles from anywhere_). "Look here, what does this mean? I left my boots out last night, and they haven't been touched." _Landlord_ (_with honest pride_). "Thrue for ye, sorr! An' begorr', if ye'd left your _gowld watch an' chain_ out, div'l a sowl wud 'a touched them nayther!"] * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY ABROAD.--_Guide._ "Monsieur finds eet a vairy eenteresting old place, ees eet not?" _'Arry_ (_who will speak French_). "Pas demi!"] * * * * * BY THE SILVER SEA DRAINSMOUTH. This popular health resort is now filled to over-flowing. The entertainments on the pier include animated photographs of a procession to the Woking Crematorium, and other cheerful and interesting subjects. The smells of the harbour may still be enjoyed to perfection at low water. SHRIMPLEY. The question of mixed bathing here has at length been set at rest by the Town Council issuing an order that nobody is to bathe at all. A decision so impartial as between the rival factions cannot fail to give satisfaction to all except the captious. Professor De Bach, with his performing dogs, gives an exhibition twice each day at the Pier Pavilion. LODGINGTON-ON-SEA. Warm and sunny weather still continues in this favoured spot. People wait half the morning for a bathing-machine and then look rather disappointed when they get it. The Simperton-Swaggeringtons arrived yesterday, travelling first-class from the junction, two miles off (up to which point they had come third). This has excited some unfavourable comment in the town. SMELLINGTON-SUPER-MARE. Large numbers of tripp--visitors, I mean, continue to pour into the town from Saturdays to Mondays, benefiting greatly by their small change. The lodging-house keepers also derive considerable benefit from their (the visitors') small change, especially when left lying about on the mantelpiece. No one could complain of dulness here now, for as I write, twenty-three barrel-organs, eleven troupes of nigger minstrels and four blind beggars with fiddles are amusing and delighting their listeners on the sands. The place is thoroughly lively, hardly an hour of the day passing without at least two street rows between inebriated excursionists taking place. The police force has been doubled, and the magistrates have given notice that, for the future, they will give no "option," and that all sentences for assaults in the streets will be with hard labour. * * * * * [Illustration: PHILOLOGICAL.--_First English Groom_ (_new to Paris_). "And the French gent as he drives round the corner, he pulls up quick, and calls out 'Woa!'" _Second ditto_ (_who has been in Paris some time_). "He couldn't have said _'Woa!'_ as there ain't no 'W' in French." _First ditto._ "No 'W' in French? Then 'ow d'yer spell 'wee'?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Alarming appearance of a harmless guana just as he has found a nice corner of Sydney Harbour for a sketch.] * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Townmouse takes lodgings for his family at a farmhouse in a remote district. Delightful spot; but they weren't so well off for butcher's meat as they could wish. _Farmer._ "Now, if your lady 'ud like some nice pork--Oh! she does like pork?--Well, then, we shall kill a pig the week arter next."] * * * * * [Illustration: A NICE PROSPECT.--_Traveller_ (_benighted in the Black Country_). "Not a bed-room disengaged! Tut-t-t-t!" _Landlady_ (_who is evidently in the coal business as well_). "Oh, we'll accommodate you somehow, sir, if me and my 'usband gives you up our own bed, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--_Professor Chatterleigh._ "By George! I'm so hungry I can't _talk!_" _Fair Hostess_ (_on hospitable thoughts intent_). "Oh, I'm _so_ glad!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ÆSTHETICS _Indiscreet Sister._ "Why, Harry, your legs are getting more _Chippendale_ than ever!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE JOYS OF TOURING _Traveller._ "I say, your razor's pulling most confoundedly!" _Local Torturer._ "Be it, zur? Wull, 'old on tight to the chair, an' we'll get it off zummow!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CHEERING.--_First Artist_ (_on a pedestrian tour_). "Can you tell which is the best inn in Baconhurst?" _Rustic_ (_bewildered_). "Dunno." _Second Artist_ (_tired_). "But we can get beds there, I suppose? Where do travellers generally go?" _Rustic._ "Go to the union moostly!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MIND AND MATTER-OF-FACT _Cotton-Man_ (_fro' Shoddydale_). "What dun yo' co' that wayter?" _Coachman._ "Ah, ain't it beautiful? That's Grassmere Lake, that is----" _Cotton-Man._ "Yo' co'n 'um all la-akes an' meres i' these pa-arts. We co'n 'um rezzer-voyers where ah com' fro'!!"] * * * * * Would the epigrammatic translation of "_sede vacanti_" as "Not well and gone away for a holiday" be accepted by an examiner? * * * * * WINTER RESORT FOR BRONCHIALLY-AFFECTED PERSONS.--Corfe Castle. * * * * * [Illustration: _Visitor._ "And so you've never been to London! Oh, but you must go. It's quite an easy journey, you know." _Gaffer Stokes._ "Ah, Oi'd main loike to see Lunnon, Oi wud. Reckon Oi must go afore Oi'm done for. _Now which moight be their busy day there,_ mister?"] * * * * * TO INTENDING TOURISTS--"Where shall we go?" All depends on the "coin of 'vantage." Switzerland? Question of money. Motto.--_"Point d'argent point de Suisse."_ * * * * * SCENE--_On the Quay. Ocean liner's syren fog-horn emitting short, sharp grunts._ _Little Girl._ Oh, mamma, that _poor_ ship must have a drefful pain in its cabin! * * * * * WASTED SYMPATHY.--SCENE--_Interior of Railway Carriage. Lady_ (_to gentleman who has just entered and is placing one of his fellow passenger's bags on the floor where there is a hot-water bottle_). Oh! Excuse me, sir, but, _please_ don't put _that_ near the hot-water bottle. I've got a little bird in the bag. _Elderly Gentleman_ (_who is an enthusiastic Anti-Vivisectionist and prominent member of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals_). Good Heavens, madam! a bird in there! Please consider! How cruel! how inhuman! how----(_gasps for words_). _Lady._ Not at all, my dear sir. _It's a roast partridge, cold, for lunch._ [_Collapse of Enthusiast._ * * * * * UNPLEASANTLY SUGGESTIVE NAMES OF "CURE" PLACES ABROAD.--_Bad Gastein._ Which must be worse than the first day's sniff at Bad-Eggs-la-Chapelle. * * * * * ROTATORY KNIFE (AND FORK) MACHINES.--Pullman dining cars. * * * * * THE LINE WHICH IS OFTEN DRAWN.--The Equator. * * * * * [Illustration: THOROUGH BUT NOT PEDANTIC. (_Overheard at the Louvre._)--_American Tourist_ (_suspiciously_). "Say, guide, haven't we seen this room before?" _Guide._ "Oh no, monsieur." _Tourist._ "Well, see here. We want to see everything, but we don't want to see anything twice!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS.--_Captain Brown_ (_narrating his trip to the Continent_). "Then, of course, we ran down to Granada, and saw the Alhambra----" _Captain Jinks_ (_untravelled athlete_). "No!! What, have they got one there too!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FILIAL ANXIETY. "Going to Paris to-morrow, Tom!" "How's that?" "My poor old governor's taken ill there!" "Going by Dieppe or Boulogne?" "Rather think I shall go _via Monaco_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERDOING IT _Sympathiser._ "Sorry you look so seedy after your holiday, old chap!" _Too Energetic Sight-seer._ "Well, I am a bit done up, but the doctor says that with rest and great care I may be well enough to have a run-round as usual next year."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gushing Young Lady_ (_to Mr. Dunk, who has just returned from Rome_). "They say, Mr. Dunk, that when one sets foot in Rome for the first time, one experiences a profound feeling of awe. The chaos of ruined grandeur, the magnificent associations, seem too much for one to grasp. Tell me, oh tell me, Mr. Dunk, what did _you_ think of it all?" _Mr. Dunk_ (_deliberately, after considering awhile_). "_Very_ nice!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Carry your trunk, sir?"] * * * * * A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.--_Miss Tomboy._ Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude. _Mother._ You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"? _Miss Tomboy._ Well, they _were_ rude. They called me a little cabbage (_mon petit chou_). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans. * * * * * [Illustration: THE TOURIST SEASON. HOTEL BRIGANDAGE] * * * * * DE GUSTIBUS---- I am an unadventurous man, And always go upon the plan Of shunning danger where I can. And so I fail to understand Why every year a stalwart band Of tourists go to Switzerland, And spend their time for several weeks, With quaking hearts and pallid cheeks, Scaling abrupt and windy peaks. In fact, I'm old enough to find Climbing of almost any kind Is very little to my mind. A mountain summit white with snow Is an attractive sight, I know, But why not see it _from below_? Why leave the hospitable plain And scale Mont Blanc with toil and pain Merely to scramble down again? Some men pretend they think it bliss To clamber up a precipice Or dangle over an abyss, To crawl along a mountain side, Supported by a rope that's tied, --Not too securely--to a guide; But such pretences, it is clear, In the aspiring mountaineer Are usually insincere. And many a climber, I'll be bound, Whom scarped and icy crags surround, Wishes himself on level ground. So I, for one, do not propose, To cool my comfortable toes In regions of perpetual snows, As long as I can take my ease, Fanned by a soothing southern breeze, Under the shade of English trees. And anyone who leaves my share Of English fields and English air May take the Alps for aught I care! * * * * * SPORT MOST APPROPRIATE TO THE LOCALITY.--Shooting pigeons at Monte Carlo. * * * * * PLEASURE À LA RUSSE.--_Q._ When does a Russian give a Polish peasant a holiday? _A._ When he gives him _a kn_outing. * * * * * THE CRY OF THE HOLIDAY-LOVING CLERK.--"Easterward Ho!" * * * * * A DISH THAT DISAGREES WITH MOST PERSONS WHEN TRAVELLING.--The Chops of the Channel. * * * * * THE GREATEST BORE IN CREATION.--The Simplon Tunnel. * * * * * [Illustration: The Brown family resolve to spend their vacation each after his own fashion, instead of _en famille_. Jack took his motor car of course. Maud and Ethel started on a Biking Tour. Pater preferred "Cooks". "My Dear Sir, I tell you there is not a city in the whole of Europe that is a patch upon Florence. Why I found the finest English chemists there that I have come across in all my travels." Mater had "quiet time" in Devonshire. Bob went canoeing. While Mary Ann says 'Give me good ole Margit'.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ANTIQUARY.--_Tourist_ (_in Cornwall_). "May I be permitted to examine that interesting stone in your field? These ancient Druidical remains are most interesting!" _Farmer._ "Sart'nly, sir. 'May be very int'restin' an' arnshunt, but we do stick 'em oup for the cattle, an' call 'em roubbin' pusts!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Smithson, having read and heard much of the pleasures of a driving tour, determines to indulge in that luxury during his Whitsuntide holidays. He therefore engages a trap, with a horse that can "get over the ground," and securing the services of an experienced driver, he sets forth._ _Smithson._ "A--a--isn't he--a--a--hadn't I better help you to pull at him?" _Driver._ "Pull at 'im? Why yer'd set 'im crazed! Jist you let me keep is 'ead straight. Lor' bless yer, there ain't no cause to be affeared, as long as we don't meet nothing, and the gates ain't shut at Splinterbone crossing, jist round the bend."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Stout Party._ "Is this path safe?" _Flippant Youth._ "Yes, the path is--but I can't answer for _you_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Will you 'urry up paintin' that tree, sir? Cause I'm goin' to cut it down in a quarter of an hour."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tourist_ (_in search of "the unique," after admiring old cottage_). "Is there anything else to look at in the village?" _Village Dame._ "Lor' bless 'ee, why there's the beautiful new recr'ation ground as we've just 'ad made!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PASTORAL REBUKE.--_First Pedestrian_ (_they've lost their way_), "Look here. This must be the east, mustn't it? There's the chancel window--that's always east; then the south must be----" _High-Church Priest_ (_"turning up" suddenly out of the vestry_), "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but I can't allow my church to be used for a secular purpose. You'll find an unconsecrated weathercock on the barn yonder!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Visitor._ "Will you tell me where I shall find a seat?" _Verger._ "Weel, sir, there's a guid wheen veesitors in Inverness the noo: so sit whaur ye can see yer umbrella!"] * * * * * TIPS FOR TRAVELLERS Toddlekins is anxious to take his family to Mars this summer, and inquires where he can hire a speedy balloon for the purpose. He is anxious to know whether he can obtain golf there, and also whether the roads are good for bicycling. He is recommended to apply for information to the Astronomer-Royal. But why should Toddlekins trouble to go so far afield? He would be sure to find congenial society in the neighbourhood of Hanwell, and by selecting this spot as his destination, the expense of a return ticket would be saved. ANXIOUS MOTHER.--So glad that you intend taking your dear ten children to Poppleton-on-Sea for three weeks' change of air. And all that you tell me about Timothy's pet rabbit and Selina's last attack of measles is so deeply interesting. Unfortunately I cannot answer all your questions myself, but I will print them here, so that some of my kind readers may be able to assist you. You want to know, in regard to Poppleton-- (1) Whether the pavements (if any) are stone or asphalte. (2) What is the mean temperature, the annual rain-fall, and the death-rate. (3) What are the Rector's "views," and if there is a comfortable pew in the church, out of draughts, calculated to hold eleven. (4) What time the shops at Poppleton close on Saturdays. DUBIOUS.--As you say, it _is_ difficult to make up one's mind where to spend the holidays, because there are so many places from which to choose. And you were so wise to write and ask me to give you the name of one single place which I could thoroughly recommend, and so save you all further worry. How about Brighton, Hastings, Eastbourne, Bexhill, Seaford, Cowes, Weymouth, Exmouth, Penzance, Lynton, or Tenby? I am delighted to give you this real and valuable help! PICNIC-PARTY.--You have my full sympathy. It is most churlish of riparian owners to refuse to allow strangers to land on their property. Fancy any one objecting to having his lawn covered with broken bottles and paper bags! OWNER.--I feel deeply for you. The way in which trippers on the river invade riverside gardens is outrageous. The bags and pieces of glass they leave about must be a gross disfigurement to your lawn. * * * * * [Illustration: INTRODUCTION MADE EASY.--_Invalid-Chair Attendant._ "If you should have a fancy for any partickler party, I can easily bump 'em."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Binns_ (_breathless, hurrying to catch London train after week-end trip_). "Can you please tell me the _exact_ time?" _Old Salt._ "'Alf ebb."] * * * * * A MOUNTAIN RAMBLER (_By a Returned Traveller_) I've scanned and penned an Ode on Thy snowy glories, Snowdon My honeymoon with Helen, Was spent near "dark" Helvellyn, Afar from all the _beau monde_ I've rambled round Ben Lomond, At noontide on Ben Nevis, I've roved and read _Sir Bevis_, I've stretched each tired thin limb on Thy summit, O Plinlimmon, And once I tore my breeks On Macgillycuddy's Reeks. Those glorious mountain scalps, The tiptops of the Alps, I've seen--their pines and passes, Their glaciers and crevasses-- With fools, philosophers and wits, I've scrambled up the Ortler Spitz, Made sketches on St. Gothard, Like Turner and like Stothard, And with my _cara sposa_ Ascended Monte Rosa: But not content with Europe, I've roamed with staff and new rope As far away as Ararat, Where _savants_ say there's ne'er a rat; The Kuen Lun and Thian Shan I know as well as any man; I've boiled my evening kettle On Popocatapetl, And on the highest Andes I've sodas mixed and brandies; I've slumbered snug and cosey On silvery Potosi; I've stood on Peter Botto, A rather lonely spot; And--crowning feat of all My mountaineerings on this ball-- I've smoked--O weed for ever blest! My pipe upon Mount Everest. And now my ramble's over, Here's Shakspeare's Cliff and Dover! All Alpine risks and chances, All Ultramontane fancies, I've put away and done with; I'll stay my wife and son with, And never more will roam From Primrose Hill and home. * * * * * [Illustration: THE FESTIVE SEASON.--_Visitor to the District_ (_who has missed his way_). "Can you tell me, my good man, if I shall pass the 'Red Lion' inn along this road?" _The Village Toper._ "Oi wouldn't like to be saying wut a gen'leman loike ye wud be doin'; but Oi'm parfect sartin Oi shouldn't!"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUEEN'S HOTEL, AMBLESIDE, 3 O'CLOCK, A.M.--"Tom!" (_No response._) "I say, Tom!" (_No answer._) "Tom!" (_A muffled grunt._) "Tom--Fire!" "Eh? What? What do you say?" "I say Tom, do you think your key will fit my bag?" "_No_--'t won't--Chubb!" [_Objurgations, and midnight disturber retires._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR COMPATRIOTS ABROAD.--"And how did you like Switzerland?" "Oh, immensely! It was our first visit, you know!" "And did you go on into Italy?" "Well, no. We found a hotel at Lausanne where there was a first-rate tennis-lawn, you know--quite as good as ours at home. So we spent the whole of our holiday there, and played lawn-tennis all day long."] * * * * * [Illustration: AGGRAVATING FLIPPANCY _The Professor_ (_who has just come back from the North Pole)._ "---- and the fauna of these inhospitable regions is as poor as the flora! You couldn't name a dozen animals who manage to live there." _Mrs. Malapert._ "Oh--I dare say I could!" _The Professor._ "Really--what _are_ they?" _Mrs. Malapert._ "Well, now--five polar bears, let us say, and--and seven seals!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Traveller._ "Can we have beds here to-night?" _Obliging Hostess._ "Oh, yes, sir." _First Traveller._ "Have you--er--any--er--_insects_ in this house?" _Obliging Hostess._ "No, sir. _But we can get you some!"_] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady_ (_to her travelling companion, who has just had his finger-nail pinched badly_). "How horrid! I always think anything wrong with one's nails sets one's teeth on edge all down one's back!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NEARING THE ENGLISH COAST _Jones._ (_Returning to England_). "We are quite fifty miles from the Scilly Isles, Miss Brown. They say the odour of the flowers they cultivate there travels that distance over the sea. I can detect it distinctly now--can't you?" _Miss Brown_ (_from America_). "I guess it hasn't _quite_ reached me yet, Mr. Jones!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON A CERTAIN CONDESCENSION IN FOREIGNERS.--_He._ "Oh, you're from America, are you? People often say to me, 'Don't you dislike Americans?' But I always say 'I believe there are some very nice ones among them.'" _She._ "Ah, I dare say there _may_ be two or three nice people amongst millions!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD.--_Mr. Shoddy._ "_I_ always say, Mrs. Sharp, that I never feel really safe from the ubiquitous British snob till I am south of the Danube!" _Mrs. Sharp_ (_innocently_). "And what do the--a--_South Danubians_ say, Mr. Shoddy?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Waiter._ "Did you ring, Sir?" _Traveller_ (_as a gentle hint to previous arrival_). "_Another fire_, waiter!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Smith._ "Oh, I was wondering whether you and your husband would care to accompany our party to Hadrian's Villa to-morrow?" _Young American Bride._ "Why, yes; we'd just love to go. George and I will be furnishing as soon as we get back to Noo York, and maybe we'd be able to pick up a few notions over at this villa."] * * * * * [Illustration: UNANSWERABLE _Pompous Magnate_ (_making speech at public luncheon in provincial town_). "Speaking of travel reminds me how greatly I have admired the scenery round Lake Geneva, and also what pleasant times I have spent in the neighbourhood of Lake Leman." _Cultured Neighbour_ (_in audible whisper_). "Pardon me, but the two places are synonymous." _P. M._ (_patronisingly_). "Ah! So _you_ may think, sir--so _you_ may think! But, from my point of view, I consider Lake Geneva to be far the most synonymous of the two."] * * * * * [Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND," &c.--"Oh, papa! what _do_ you think? Four out of our twelve boxes are missing." "Hurrah! By George! that's the best piece of news I've had for a long time."] * * * * * [Illustration: AN EPICURE.--"Oh, George, I'm ashamed of you--rubbing your lips like that, after that dear little French girl has given you a kiss!" "I'm not rubbing it _out_, mammy--I'm rubbing it _in_!"] * * * * * A COWES WEEK EXPERIENCE _Monday._--Dear old Bluewater--what a good fellow he is!--asks me to join his yacht, the _Sudden Jerk_, for Cowes week. Never been yachting before. _Tuesday._--Arrive Ryde Pier, correctly (I hope) "got up"; blue serge, large brass anchor buttons, and peaked cap. Fancy Bluewater rather surprised to see how _au fait_ I am at nautical dress. "Ah! my dear fellow, delighted to see you. Come along; the gig is lying alongside the steps. One of the hands" (why "hands"?) "shall look to your traps." We scramble into gig and are rowed out to 50-ton yawl. Climb up side. Bluewater says, "Come below. Take care--two steps down, then turn round and---- Oh! by Jove! what a crack you've caught your head. Never mind, old boy, you'll soon get accustomed to it." Devoutly hope I shall _not_ get accustomed to knocking my head. Arrive at foot of "companion" (why "companion"?) stairs. Bluewater pulls aside curtains and says, "_There_ you are!" Reply, "Oh! yes, there I am. Er--is--do you lie on the shelf--oh! berth, is it!--beg pardon--or underneath it?" He explains. "You'll find it very jolly, you know; you can lie in your bunk, and look right up the companion to the sky above." "Oh! awfully jolly," I say. We repair on deck. Get under weigh to run down to Cowes. Dear old Bluewater very active. Pulls at ropes and things, shouting "leggo-your-spinach-and-broom,"[A] and other unintelligible war-cries. Stagger across deck. Breeze very fresh. "Lee oh!" shouts Bluewater; "mind the broom!"--or it might have been boom--and next moment am knocked flat on my back by enormous pole. Arrive Cowes. Crowd of yachts. Drop anchor for night. Go below, damp face in tiny iron basin; yacht lurches and rolls all the water out over new white shoes. Enter saloon, tripping over some one's kit-bag at the door. Try to save myself by clutching at swing-table, which upsets and empties soup tureen all over my trousers. Retire, change, return. Host and I sit down and proceed to chase fried soles backwards and forwards across treacherous swing-table. "_Now_, my dear fellow isn't this jolly? Isn't this worth all your club dinners?" Reply "Oh, yes," enthusiastically. Privately, should prefer club in London. Weather gets worse. Try to smoke. Don't seem to care for smoking, somehow. Feel depressed, and ask dear old Bluewater to describe a sailor's grave. Tries to cheer me up by saying, "Don't waste the precious moments, my friend, on such sad subjects. You are not born to fill a seaman's grave. There's a class of man not born to be drowned, you know." Then he laughs heartily. Try to smile; fail. Pitching and rocking motion increases. Retire early and lie down on shelf. Fall off twice. Manage to reach perch again. Weather gets worse. Shall never sleep with noise of trampling on deck and waves washing yacht's sides. Shall never---- Sudden misgiving. _Am_ I going to be----? Oh! no, must be passing dizziness. It cannot possibly be.... IT IS!!! Am rowed ashore, bag and baggage, next morning. Dear old Bluewater tries to keep me from going, and says, "What, after all, _is_ sea-sickness?" Dear old Bluewater must be an ass. Confound old Bluewater! [Footnote A: Qy. spinnaker boom.--ED.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE EXCURSION. _Head of Family._ "I reckon some of us'll have to stand, or we shan't all get seats!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUSE AND EFFECT _Mrs. Brown._ "I had such a lovely bathe last Thursday, dear." _Niece._ "That was the day of the tidal wave, wasn't it, Auntie?"] * * * * * [Illustration: How Stonehenge might be popularised if the Government bought it. Suggestion gratis.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Full-sized Tripper._ "How does one get into the churchyard, please?" _Simple Little Native._ "Through this 'ere 'ole!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Walking Tourist._ "What's the name of this village, my man?" _Yokel._ "Oi dunno, zur. Oi only bin 'ere a month!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW _Fair Yankee_ (_in Egypt_). "I say, uncle, can yew tell me, air there ever any new camels? I guess all I've seen must be second-hand!"] * * * * * AN UNCONGENIAL SPOT FOR TEETOTALERS.--Barmouth. * * * * * A MAN WHO BEATS ABOUT THE BUSH.--An Australian. * * * * * [Illustration: "IN PERIL OF PRECIPITATION"--_Coriolanus_, iii. 3. _Stout Party._ "Hi! boy, stop! I'm going to get off." _Donkey Boy._ "Yer carn't, marm. There ain't room!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DETECTED.--_Clerical Tourist_ (_visiting cathedral_). "Always open, eh? And do you find that people come here on week-days for rest and meditation?" _Verger._ "Ay, that they do, odd times. Why, I catched some of 'em at it only last Toosday!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Lady._ "Well, if that's David, what a size Goliath must a' been."] * * * * * HOLIDAY FARE IN CORNWALL A Roll on the billow, A Loaf by the shore, A Fig for fashion, And Cream galore! * * * * * THE ROAD TO THE NIAGARA FALLS.--_Via Dollarosa._ * * * * * WHERE THE FELLAH'S SHOE PINCHES.--Where the corn used to be--in Egypt. * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] * * * * * BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. * * * * * 
37882	----	MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. Hammerton Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch", from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS [Illustration] [Illustration: THRIFT _Highlander (he had struck his foot against a "stane")._ "Phew-ts!--e-eh what a ding ma puir buit wad a gotten if a'd had it on!!"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS [Illustration] AS PICTURED BY CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, GEORGE DU MAURIER, W. RALSTON, L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, G. D. ARMOUR, CECIL ALDIN, A. S. BOYD, ETC. _WITH 140 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * The Punch Library of Humour _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * NORTHWARD HO! SCOTSMEN--Highlanders and Lowlanders--have furnished Mr. Punch with many of his happiest jokes. Despite the curious tradition which the Cockney imbibes with his mother's milk as to the sterility of Scotland in humour, the Scots are not only the cause of humour in others but there are occasions when they prove themselves not entirely bereft of the faculty which, with his charming egoism, the Cockney supposes to be his own exclusive birthright. Indeed, we have it on the authority of Mr. Spielmann, the author of "The History of _Punch_", that "of the accepted jokes from unattached contributors (to Punch), it is a notable fact that at least 75 per cent. comes from north of the Tweed." As a very considerable proportion of these Scottish jokes make fun of the national characteristics of the Scot, it is clear that Donald has the supreme gift of being able to laugh at himself. It should be noted, however, that Mr. Punch's most celebrated Scottish joke ("Bang went saxpence"), which we give on page 153, was no invention, but merely the record of an actual conversation overheard by an Englishman! In the present volume the purpose has been not so much to bring together a representative collection of the Scottish humour that has appeared in _Punch_, but to illustrate the intercourse of the "Sassenach" with the Highlander, chiefly as a visitor bent on sport, and incidentally to illustrate some of the humours of Highland life. Perhaps the distinction between Highlander and Lowlander has not been very rigidly kept, but that need trouble none but the pedants, who are notoriously lacking in the sense of humour, and by that token ought not to be peeping into these pages. Of all Mr. Punch's contributors, we may say, without risk of being invidious, that Charles Keene was by far the happiest in the portrayal of Scottish character. His Highland types are perhaps somewhat closer to the life than his Lowlanders, but all are invariably touched off with the kindliest humour, and never in any way burlesqued. If his work overshadows that of the other humorous artists past and present represented in this volume, it is for the reason stated; yet it will be found that from the days of John Leech to those of Mr. Raven-Hill. MR. PUNCH'S artists have seldom been more happily inspired than when they have sought to depict Highland life and the lighter side of sport and travel north of the Tweed. * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS SPORTING NOTES [Illustration] The following are the notes we have received from our Sporting Contributor. I wish we could say they were a fair equivalent for the notes he has received from _us_, to say nothing of that new Henry's patent double central-fire breech-loader, with all the latest improvements, and one of Mr. Benjamin's heather-mixture suits. Such as they are we print them, with the unsatisfactory consolation that if the notes are bad they are like the sport and the birds. Of all these it may be said that "bad is the best." _North and South Uist._--The awfully hard weather--the natives call it "soft" here--having rendered the chances of winged game out of the question, the sportsmen who have rented the shootings are glad to try the chances of the game, sitting, and have confined themselves to the whist from which the islands take their name. Being only two, they are reduced to double dummy. As the rental of the Uist Moors is £400, they find the points come rather high--so far. _Harris._--In spite of repeated inquiries, the proprietress of the island was not visible. Her friend, Mrs. Gamp, now here on a visit, declares she saw Mrs. H. very recently, but was quite unable to give me any information as to shootings, except the shootings of her own corns. _Fifeshire._--The renters of the Fife shootings generally have been seriously considering the feasibility of combining with those of the once well-stocked Drum Moor in Aberdeenshire, to get up something like a band--of hope, that a bag may be made some day. Thus far, the only bags made have been those of the proprietors of the shootings, who have bagged heavy rentals. _Rum._--I call the island a gross-misnomer, as there is nothing to drink in it but whiskey, which, with the adjacent "Egg", may be supposed to have given rise to the neighbouring "Mull"--hot drinks being the natural resource of both natives and visitors in such weather as we've had ever since I crossed the Tweed. I have seen one bird--at least so the gilly says--after six tumblers, but to me it had all the appearance of a brace. _Skye._--Birds wild. Sportsmen, ditto. Sky a gloomy grey--your correspondent and the milk at the hotel at Corrieverrieslushin alike sky-blue. _Cantire._--Can't you? Try tramping the moors for eight hours after a pack of preternaturally old birds that know better than let you get within half a mile of their tails. Then see if you can't tire. I beg your pardon, but if you knew what it was to make jokes under my present circumstances, you'd give it up, or do worse. If I should not turn up shortly, and you hear of an inquest on a young man, in one of Benjamin's heather-mixture suits, with a Henry's central-fire breech-loader, and a roll of new notes in his possession, found hanging wet through, in his braces in some remote Highland shieling--break it gently to the family of Your Sporting Contributor. * * * * * A PIBROCH FOR BREAKFAST. Hech, ho, the Highland laddie! Hech, ho, the Finnon haddie! Breeks awa', Heck, the braw, Ho, the bonnie tartan plaidie! Hech, the laddie, Ho, the haddie, Hech, ho, the cummer's caddie, Dinna forget The bannocks het, Gin ye luve your Highland laddie. * * * * * The Member for Sark writes from the remote Highlands of Scotland, where he has been driving past an interminable series of lochs, to inquire where the keys are kept? He had better apply to the local authorities in the Isle of Man. They have a whole House of Keys. Possibly those the hon. Member is concerned about may be found among them. * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE HILLS _Deer Stalker (old hand, and fond of it)._ "Isn't it exciting? Keep cool!" [_Jones isn't used to it, and, not having moved for the last half-hour, his excitement has worn off. He's wet through, and sinking fast in the boggy ground, and speechless with cold. So he doesn't answer._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: 1) MR. BUGGLE'S FIRST STAG. AT THE FIRST SHOT MR BUGGLE'S FIRST STAG LAY PRONE.] [Illustration: 2) ELATED WITH SUCCESS MR B. RUSHED UP AND SEATED HIMSELF ASTRIDE HIS VICTIM] [Illustration: 3) BUT ALAS IT WAS ONLY SLIGHTLY STUNNED, AND PROMPTLY ROSE TO THE OCCASION.] [Illustration: 4) SO DID MR B.] [Illustration: 5) THE LAW OF GRAVITY PROVED TOO STRONG WHEN A LUCKY SHOT FROM THE KEEPER] [Illustration: 6) PLACED MATTERS UPON A SATISFACTORY FOOTING ONCE MORE.] * * * * * [Illustration: MY ONLY SHOT AT A CORMORANT. Here she comes!] [Illustration: There she goes!] * * * * * FULL STOP IN THE DAWDLE FROM THE NORTH. (_Leaves from the Highland Journal of Toby, M.P._) "Here's a go", I said, turning to Sark, after carefully looking round the station to see if we really were back at Oban, having a quarter of an hour ago started (as we supposed) on our journey, already fifteen minutes late. [Illustration] "Well, if you put it in that way", he said, "I should call it an entire absence of go. I thought it was a peculiarly jolting train. Never passed over so many points in the same time in my life." "Looks as if we should miss train at Stirling", I remark, anxiously. "If so, we can't get on from Carlisle to Woodside to-night." "Oh, that'll be all right", said Sark, airy to the last; "we'll make it up as we go along." Again sort of faint bluish light, which I had come to recognise as a smile, feebly flashed over cadaverous countenance of the stranger in corner seat. Certainly no hurry in getting off. More whistling, more waving of green flag. Observed that natives who had come to see friends off had quietly waited on platform. Train evidently expected back. Now it had returned they said good-bye over again to friends. Train deliberately steams out of station thirty-five minutes late. Every eight or ten miles stopped at roadside station. No one got in or got out. After waiting five or six minutes, to see if any one would change his mind, train crawled out again. Performance repeated few miles further on with same result. [Illustration] "Don't put your head out of the window and ask questions", Sark remonstrated, as I banged down the window. "I never did it since I heard a story against himself John Bright used to tell with great glee. Travelling homeward one day in a particularly slow train, it stopped an unconscionably long time at Oldham. Finally, losing all patience, he leaned out of the window, and in his most magisterial manner said, 'Is it intended that this train shall move on to-night?' The porter addressed, not knowing the great man, tartly replied, 'Put in thy big white yedd, and mebbe the train'll start.'" Due at Loch Awe 1.32; half-past one when we strolled into Connel Ferry station, sixteen miles short of that point. Two more stations before we reach Loch Awe. "Always heard it was a far cry to Loch Awe", said Sark, undauntedly determined to regard matters cheerfully. "You haven't come to the hill yet", said a sepulchral voice in the corner. "What hill?" I asked. "Oh, you'll see soon enough. It's where we usually get out and walk. If there are on board the train any chums of the guard or driver, they are expected to lend a shoulder to help the train up." Ice once broken, stranger became communicative. Told us his melancholy story. Had been a W.S. in Edinburgh. Five years ago, still in prime of life, bought a house at Oban; obliged to go to Edinburgh once, sometimes twice, a week. Only thrice in all that time had train made junction with Edinburgh train at Stirling. Appetite failed; flesh fell away; spirits went down to water level. Through looking out of window on approaching Stirling, in hope of seeing South train waiting, eyes put on that gaze of strained anxiety that had puzzled me. Similarly habit contracted of involuntarily jerking up right hand with gesture designed to arrest departing train. "Last week, coming north from Edinburgh", said the hapless passenger, "we were two hours late at Loch Awe. 'A little late to-day, aren't we?' I timidly observed to the guard. 'Ou aye! we're a bit late,' he said. 'Ye see, we had a lot of rams, and we couldna' get baith them and you up the hill; so we left ye at Tyndrum, and ran the rams through first, and then came back for ye.'" Fifty minutes late at Killin Junction. So far from making up time lost at Oban, more lost at every wayside station. "I hope we shan't miss the train at Stirling?" I anxiously inquired of guard. "Weel, no", said he, looking at his watch. "I dinna think ye'll hae managed that yet." This spoken in soothing tones, warm from the kindly Scottish heart. Hadn't yet finally lost chance of missing train at Stirling that should enable us to keep our tryst at Woodside. But no need for despair. A little more dawdling and it would be done. Done it was. When we reached Stirling, porters complacently announced English mail had left quarter of an hour ago. As for stationmaster, he was righteously indignant with inconsiderate travellers who showed disposition to lament their loss. "Good night", said cadaverous fellow-passenger, feebly walking out of darkling station. "Hope you'll get a bed somewhere. Having been going up and down line for five years, I keep a bedroom close by. Cheaper in the end. I shall get on in the morning." * * * * * MERE INVENTION.--Up the Highlands way there is, in wet weather, a handsome cataract, the name whereof is spelt anyhow you like, but is pronounced "Fyres." There is not much water in hot weather, and then art assists nature, and a bucket or so of the fluid is thrown over for the delectation of tourists. One of them, observing this arrangement, said that the proprietor "Began to pail his ineffectual Fyres." [This story is quite false, which would be of no consequence, but that every Scottish tourist knows it to be false. Our contributor should really be more careful.] * * * * * [Illustration: "Where can that confounded fellow have got to with the lunch-basket?"] [Illustration: Here he is, remarking, confidentially, that "that ginger-peer is apout the pest he ever tasted."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Cockney Sportsman._ "Haw--young woman, whose whiskies do you keep here?" _Highland Lassie._ "We only keep McPherson's, sir." _C. S._ "McPherson? Haw--who the deuce is McPherson?" _H. L._ "My brother, sir."] * * * * * [Illustration: During Mr. Spoffin's visit to the Highlands, he found a difficulty in approaching his game--so invented a method of simplifying matters. His "make-up", however, was so realistic, that the jealous old stag nearly finished him!] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS IDEA OF IT _Native._ "Is 't no a daft-like place this tae be takin' a view? There's no naething tae be seen for the trees. Noo, if ye was tae gang tae the tap o' Knockcreggan, that wad set ye fine! Ye can see _five coonties_ frae there!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TOURING IN THE HIGHLANDS "Hullo, Sandy! Why haven't you cleaned my carriage, as I told you last night?" "Hech, sir, what for would it need washing? It will be just the same when you'll be using it again!"] * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * FROM OUR BILIOUS CONTRIBUTOR. _To_ MR. PUNCH. MY DEAR SIR,[A] Embarking at Bannavie very early in the morning--_diluculo surgere saluberrimum est_, but it is also particularly disagreeable--I was upon the canal of the Caledonians, on my way to the capital of the Highlands. This is the last voyage which, upon this occasion, I shall have the pleasure of describing. The vessel was commanded by Captain Turner, who is a remarkable meteorologist, and has emitted some wonderful weather prophecies. Having had, moreover, much opportunity of observing character, in his capacity of captain of boats chiefly used by tourists, he is well acquainted with the inmost nature of the aristocracy and their imitators. Being myself of an aristocratic turn of mind (as well as shape of body) it was refreshing to me to sit with him on the bridge and speak of our titled friends. [Footnote A: We perfectly understand this advance towards civility as the writer approaches the end of his journey. He is a superior kind of young man, if not the genius he imagines himself.--_Ed._] Fort Augustus, which we passed, is not called so from having been built by the Roman Emperor of that name, quite the reverse. The next object of interest is a thing called the Fall of Foyers, which latter word is sounded like fires, and the announcement to Cockneys that they are going to see the affair, leads them to expect something of a pyrotechnic character. It is nothing of that sort. The steamboat is moored, you rush on shore, and are instantly arrested by several pikemen--I do not mean soldiers of a mediæval date, but fellows at a gate, who demand fourpence apiece from everybody landing in those parts. Being in Scotland, this naturally made me think I had come to Johnny Groat's house, but no such thing, and I have no idea of the reason of this highway robbery, or why a very dirty card should have been forced upon me in proof that I had submitted. We were told to go up an ascending road, and then to climb a dreadfully steep hill, and that then we should see something. For my own part, I felt inclined to see everybody blowed first, but being over-persuaded, I saw everybody blowed afterwards, for that hill is a breather, I can tell you. However, I rushed up like a mounting deer, and when at the top was told to run a little way down again. I did, and saw the sight. You have seen the cataracts of the Nile? It's not like them. You have seen a cataract in a party's eye. It's not like that. Foyers is a very fine waterfall, and worthy of much better verses than some which Mr. Burns addressed to it in his English style, which is vile. Still, the waterfall at the Colosseum, Regent's Park, is a good one, and has this advantage, that you can sit in a chair and look at it as long as you like, whereas you walk a mile to Foyers, goaded by the sailors from the vessel, who are perpetually telling you to make haste, and you are allowed about three minutes and fourteen seconds to gaze upon the scene, when the sailors begin to goad you back again, frightening you with hints that the captain will depart without you. Precious hot you come on board, with a recollection of a mass of foam falling into an abyss. That is not the way to see Foyers, and I hereby advise all tourists who are going to stop at Inverness, to drive over from thence, take their time at the noble sight, and do the pier-beggars out of their fourpences. The stately towers of the capital of the Highlands are seen on our right. A few minutes more, and we are moored. Friendly voices hail us, and also hail a vehicle. We are borne away. There is news for us. We are forthwith--even in that carriage, were it possible--to induct ourselves into the black tr × ws × rs of refined life and the white cravat of graceful sociality, and to accompany our host to the dinner of the Highland railwaymen. _We_ rail. We have not come six hundred miles to dress for dinner. Our host is of a different opinion, and being a host in himself, conquers our single-handed resistance. We attend the dinner, and find ourselves among Highland chieftains plaided and plumed in their "tartan array." (Why doesn't Horatio MacCulloch, noble artist and Highland-man, come to London and be _our_ tartan R.A.?) We hear wonders of the new line, which is to save folks the trouble of visiting the lost tribe at Aberdeen, and is to take them direct from Inverness to Perth, through wonderful scenery. We see a programme of toasts, to the number of thirty-four, which of course involves sixty-eight speeches. There is also much music by the volunteers--not, happily, by bag-pipers. We calculate, on the whole, that the proceedings will be over about four in the morning. Ha! ha! _Dremacky_. There is a _deus ex machiná_ literally, a driver on an engine, and he starts at ten. Numbers of the guests must go with him. _Claymore!_ We slash out the toasts without mercy--without mercy on men set down to speak and who have spoiled their dinner by thinking over their _impromptus_. But there is one toast which shall be honoured, yea, with the Highland honours. _Mr. Punch's_ health is proposed. It is well that this handsome hall is built strongly, or the Highland maidens should dance here no more. The shout goes up for _Mr. Punch_. I believe that I have mentioned to you, once or twice, that I am an admirable speaker, but upon this occasion I surpassed myself--I was in fact, as the Covent Garden play-bills say, "unsurpassingly successful." Your interests were safe in my hands. I believe that no person present heard a syllable of what I said. It was this: [It may have been, but as what our correspondent has been pleased to send as his speech would occupy four columns, we prefer to leave it to immortality in the excellent newspaper of which he sends us a "cutting." We incline to think that he _was_ weak enough to say what he says he said, because he could not have invented and written it out after a Highland dinner, and it was published next morning. It is extremely egotistical, and not in the least entertaining--_Ed._] Among the guests was a gentleman who owns the mare who will certainly win the Cesarewitch. _I know this for a fact_, and I advise you to put your money on _Lioness_. His health was proposed, and he returned thanks with the soul of wit. I hope he recollects the hope expressed by the proposer touching a certain saddling-bell. I thought it rather strong in "Bible-loving Scotland", but to be sure, we were in the Highlands, which are England, or at all events where the best English spoken in Scotland is heard. We reached our house at an early hour, and I was lulled to a gentle slumber by the sound of the river Ness. This comes out of Loch Ness, and in the latest geographical work with which I am acquainted, namely, "Geography Anatomiz'd, by Pat. Gordon, M.A.F.R.S. Printed for Andr. Bell, at the Cross Keys and Bible in Cornhill, and R. Smith, under the Royal Exchange, 1711", I read that "towards the north-west part of _Murray_ is the famous _Lough-Ness_ which never freezeth, but retaineth its natural heat, even in the extremest cold of winter, and in many places this lake hath been sounded with a line of 500 fathom, but no bottom can be found" (just as in the last rehearsal of the artisans' play in the _Midsummer Night's Dream_), but I believe that recent experiments have been more successful, and that though no lead plummet would go so deep, a volume by a very particular friend of mine was fastened to the line, and descended to the bottom in no time. I will mention his name if he is not kind to my next work, but at present I have the highest esteem and respect for him. I only show him that I know this little anecdote. There were what are called Highland games to be solemnised in Inverness. I resolved to attend them, and, if I saw fit, to join in them. But I was informed by a Highland friend of mine, Laidle of Toddie, a laird much respected, that all competitors must appear in the kilt. As my own graceful proportions would look equally well in any costume, this presented no difficulty, and I marched off to Mr. Macdougall, the great Highland costumier, and after walking through a dazzling array of Gaelic glories, I said, mildly, "Can you make me a Highland dress?" "Certainly, in a few hours", said Mr. Macdougall; but somehow I fancied that he did not seem to think that I was displaying any vast amount of sense. "Then, please to make me one, very handsome", said I; "and send it home to-night." And I was going out of the warehouse. "But, sir", said Mr. Macdougall, "do you belong to any clan, or what tartan will you have?" "Mr. Macdougall", said I, "it may be that I do belong to a clan, or am affiliated to one. It may be, that like Edward Waverley, I shall be known hereafter as the friend of the sons (and daughters) of the clan ----. It may be that if war broke out between that clan and another, I would shout our war-cry, and, drawing my claymore, would walk into the hostile clan like one o'clock. But at present that is a secret, and I wear not the garb of any clan in particular. Please to make me up a costume out of the garbs of several clans, but be sure you put the brightest colours, as they suit my complexion." I am bound to say that though Mr. Macdougall firmly declined being party to this arrangement, which he said would be inartistic, he did so with the utmost courtesy. My opinion is, that he thought I was a little cracked. Many persons have thought that, but there is no foundation for the suspicion. "You see, Mr. Macdougall", says I, "I am a Plantagenet by descent, and one of my ancestors was hanged in the time of George the Second. Do those facts suggest anything to you in the way of costume?" "The first does not", he said, "but the second may. A good many persons had the misfortune to be hanged about the time you mention, and for the same reason. I suppose your ancestor died for the Stuarts." "No, sir, he died for a steward. The unfortunate nobleman was most iniquitously destroyed for shooting a plebeian of the name of Johnson, for which reason I hate everybody of that name, from Ben downwards, and will not have a Johnson's _Dictionary_ in my house." "Then, sir", says Mr. Macdougall, "the case is clear. You can mark your sense of the conduct of the sovereign who executed your respected relative. You can assume the costume of his chief enemies. You can wear the Stuart tartan." "Hm", says I. "I should look well in it, no doubt; but then I have no hostility to the present House of Brunswick." "Why", says he, laughing; "Her Majesty dresses her own princes in the Stuart tartan. I ought to know that." "Then that's settled", I replied. Ha! You would indeed have been proud of your contributor, had you seen him splendidly arrayed in that gorgeous garb, and treading the heather of Inverness High Street like a young mountaineer. He did not look then like EPICURUS ROTUNDUS. _Inverness Castle._ * * * * * NOTICE TO THE HIGHLANDERS.--Whereas Mr. Punch, through his "Bilious Contributor", did on the 7th November, 1863, offer a prize of fifty guineas to the best Highland player at Spellikins, in the games for 1873. And whereas Mr. Punch has had the money, with ten years' interest, quite ready, and waiting to be claimed. And whereas no Highland player at Spellikins appeared at the games of 1873. This to give notice that Mr. Punch has irrevocably confiscated the money to his own sole and peculiar use, and intends to use it in bribery at the next general election. He begs to remark to the Highlands, in the words of his ancestor, Robert Bruce, at Bannockburn--"There is a rose fallen from your wreath!"[B] PUNCH. 7th November, 1873. [Footnote B: Of course the King said nothing so sweetly sentimental. What he did say to Earl Randolph was, "Mind your eye, you great stupid ass, or you'll have the English spears in your back directly." Nor did the Earl reply, "My wreath shall bloom, or life shall fade. Follow, my household!" but, with an amazing great curse, "I'll cook 'em. Come on, you dawdling beggars, and fulfil the prophecies!" But so history is written.] * * * * * MORE REVENGE FOR FLODDEN.--_Scene: a Scotch Hotel. Tourist (indignant at his bill)._ "Why, landlord, there must be some mistake there!" _Landlord._ "Mistake? Aye, aye. That stupid fellow, the waiter, has just charged you five shillings--too little." * * * * * FROM THE MOORS.--_Sportsman._ "Much rain Donald?" _Donald._ "A bit soft. Just wet a' day, wi' showers between." * * * * * [Illustration: A PLEASANT PROSPECT! _English Tourist._ "I say, look here. How far is it to this Glenstarvit? They told us it was only----" _Native._ "Aboot four miles." _Tourist_ (_aghast_). "All bog like this?" _Native._ "Eh--h--this is just naethin' till't!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ANOTHER MISUNDERSTANDING _'Arry_ (_on a Northern tour, with Cockney pronunciation_). "Then I'll 'ave a bottle of aile." _Hostess of the Village Inn._ "_Ile_, sir? We've nane in the hoose, but castor ile or paraffin. Wad ony o' them dae, sir?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE WEIRD SISTERS] * * * * * [Illustration: DEER-STALKING MADE EASY The patent silent motor-crawler.] * * * * * [Illustration: ILLUSTRATED QUOTATIONS (_One so seldom finds an Artist who realises the poetic conception._) "Is this the noble Moor ...?"--_Othello_, Act IV., Scene 1.] * * * * * [Illustration: DRACONIAN SCENE.--_Police Court, North Highlands._ _Accused._ "Put, Pailie, it's na provit!" _Bailie._ "Hoot toots, Tonal, and hear me speak! Aw'll only fine ye ha'f-a-croon the day, because et's no varra well provit. But if ever ye come before me again, ye'll no get aff under five shillin's, whether et's provit or no!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849 DEERE STALKYNGE IN YE HYGHLANDES] * * * * * [Illustration: ONE OF THE ADVANTAGES OF SHOOTING FROM A BUTT _Keeper (on moor rented by the latest South African millionaire, to guest)._ "Never mind the birds, sir. For onny sake, lie down! The maister's gawn tae shoot!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TWELFTH (_Guilderstein in the Highlands_) _Guild. (His first experience)._ "I've been swindled! That confounded agent said it was all drivin' on this moor, and look at it, all hills and slosh! Not a decent carriage road within ten miles!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MATERNAL INSTINCT _The Master._ "I'm sayin', wumman, ha'e ye gotten the tickets?" _The Mistress._ "Tuts, haud your tongue aboot tickets. Let me count the weans!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NEMO ME IMPUNE", &c. _The Irrepressible._ "Hi, Scotty, tip us the 'Ighland fling." TIPPED!] * * * * * [Illustration: Return of the wounded and missing Popplewitz omitted to send in after his day on the moors.] * * * * * [Illustration: RECRIMINATION _Inhabitant of Uist._ "I say, they'll pe speaking fa-ar petter English in Uist than in Styornaway." _Lass of the Lewis._ "Put in Styornaway they'll not pe caa-in' fush 'feesh,' whatefer!"] * * * * * THE HIGHLAND GAMES AT MACJIGGITY Whilst staying at MacFoozle Castle, my excellent host insisted that I should accompany him to see the Highland games. The MacFoozle himself is a typical Hielander, and appeared in a kilt and jelly-bag--philabeg, I mean. Suggested to him that I should go, attired in pair of bathing-drawers, Norfolk jacket, and Glengarry cap, but he, for some inscrutable reason of his own, negatived the idea. Had half a mind to dress in kilt myself, but finally decided against the national costume as being too draughty. Arrived on ground, and found that "tossing the caber" was in full progress. Braw laddies struggled, in turn, with enormous tree trunk. The idea of the contest is, that whoever succeeds in killing the greatest number of spectators by hurling the tree on to them, wins the prize. Fancy these laddies had been hung too long, or else they were particularly braw. Moved up to windward of them promptly. "Who is the truculent-looking villain with red whiskers?" I ask. "Hush!" says my host, in awed tones. "That is the MacGinger himself!" I grovel. Not that I have ever even heard his name before, but I don't want to show my ignorance before the MacFoozle. The competition of pipers was next in order, and I took to my heels and fled. Rejoined MacFoozle half an hour later to witness the dancing. On a large raised platform sat the judges, with the mighty MacGinger himself at their head. Can't quite make out whether the dance is a Reel, a Strathspey, a Haggis, or a Skirl--sure it is one or the other. Just as I ask for information, amid a confusing whirl of arms and legs and "Hoots!" a terrific crack is heard, and the platform, as though protesting at the indignities heaped upon it, suddenly gives way, and in a moment, dancers, pipers, and judges are hurled in a confused and struggling heap to the ground. The MacGinger falls upon some bag-pipes, which emit dismal groanings beneath his massive weight. This ends the dancing prematurely, and a notice is immediately put up all round the grounds that (to take its place) "There will be another competition of bag-pipes." I read it, evaded the MacFoozle, and fled. * * * * * SONG FOR A SCOTCH DUKE. My harts in the Highlands shall have their hills clear, My harts in the Highlands no serf shall come near-- I'll chase out the Gael to make room for the roe, My harts in the Highlands were ever his foe. * * * * * THINGS NO HIGHLANDER CAN UNDERSTAND. Breaches of promise. * * * * * [Illustration: GUILDERSTEIN IN THE HIGHLANDS Guilderstein. "Missed again! And dat fellow, Hoggenheimer, comin'on Monday too! Why did I not wire to Leadenhall for an 'aunch, as Betty told me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Juvenis. "Jolly day we had last week at McFoggarty's wedding! Capital champagne he gave us, and we did it justice, I can tell you--" Senex (who prefers whiskey). "Eh-h, mun, it's a' verra weel weddings at ye-er time o' life. Gie me a gude funeral!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HEBRIDEAN SPORT _Shooting Tenant (accounting for very large species of grouse which his setter has just flushed)._ "Capercailzie! By George!" _Under-keeper Neil._ "I'm after thinking, sir, you'll have killed Widow McSwan's cochin cock. Ye see the crofters were forced to put him and the hens away out here till the oats is ripe!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LATEST FROM THE MOORS _Intelligent Foreigner._ "Tell me--zee 'Ilanders, do zay always wear zee raw legs?"] * * * * * [Illustration] A GROAN FROM A GILLIE Lasses shouldna' gang to shoot, Na, na! Gillies canna' help but hoot, Ha, ha! Yon douce bodies arena' fittin' Wi' the gudeman's to be pittin', Bide at hame and mind yere knittin'! Hoot, awa'! "Wimmen's Rechts" is vara weel, Ooh, aye! For hizzies wha've nae hearts to feel; Forbye Wimmen's Rechts is aiblins Wrang When nat'ral weak maun ape the strang, An' chaney cups wi' cau'drons gang, Auch, fie! Hennies shouldna' try to craw Sae fast-- Their westlin' thrapples canna' blair Sic a blast. Leave to men-folk bogs and ferns, An' pairtricks, muircocks, braes, and cairns; And lasses! ye may mind the bairns-- That's best! TONALT (X) _his mark._ * * * * * [Illustration: A PRECISIAN _Artist (affably)._ "Fine morning." _Native._ "No' bad ava'." _Artist._ "Pretty scenery." _Native._ "Gey an' good." _Artist (pointing to St. Bannoch's, in the distance)._ "What place is that down at the bottom of the loch?" _Native._ "It's no at the bottom--it's at the fut!" _Artist (to himself)._ "You past-participled Highlander!" [_Drops the subject!_ ] * * * * * THE THING TO DO IN SCOTLAND (_More Leaves from the Highland Journal of Toby, M.P._) _Quiverfield, Haddingtonshire, Monday._--You can't spend twenty-four hours at Quiverfield without having borne in upon you the truth that the only thing to do in Scotland is to play goff. (On other side of Tweed they call it golf. Here we are too much in a hurry to get at the game to spend time on unnecessary consonant.) The waters of what Victor Hugo called "The First of the Fourth" lave the links at Quiverfield. Blue as the Mediterranean they have been in a marvellous autumn, soon to lapse into November. We can see the Bass Rock from the eighth hole, and can almost hear the whirr of the balls skimming with swallow flight over the links at North Berwick. Prince Arthur here to-day, looking fully ten years younger than when I last saw him at Westminster. Plays through live-long day, and drives off fourteen miles for dinner at Whittinghame, thinking no more of it than if he were crossing Palace Yard. Our host, Waverley Pen, is happy in possession of links at his park gates. All his own, for self and friends. You step through the shrubbery, and there are the far-reaching links; beyond them the gleaming waters of the Forth. Stroll out immediately after breakfast to meet the attendant caddies; play goff till half-past one; reluctantly break off for luncheon; go back to complete the fearsome foursome; have tea brought out to save time; leave off in bare time to dress for dinner; talk goff at dinner; arrange matches after dinner; and the new morning finds the caddies waiting as before. [Illustration: Fingen's finger.] Decidedly the only thing to do in Scotland is to play goff. _Deeside, Aberdeenshire, Wednesday._--Fingen, M.P., once told an abashed House of Commons that he "owned a mountain in Scotland." Find, on visiting him in his ancestral home, that he owns a whole range. Go up one or two of them; that comparatively easy; difficulty presents itself when we try to get down. Man and boy, Fingen has lived here fifty years; has not yet acquired knowledge necessary to guide a party home after ascending one of his mountains. Walking up in cool of afternoon, we usually get home sore-footed and hungry about midnight. "Must be going now", says Fingen, M.P., when we have seen view from top of mountain. "Just time to get down before dark. But I know short cut; be there in a jiffy. Come along." We come along. At end of twenty minutes find ourselves in front of impassable gorge. "Ha!" says Fingen, M.P., cheerily. "Must have taken wrong turn; better go back and start again." All very well to say go back; but where were we? Fingen, M.P., knows; wets his finger; holds it up. "Ha!" he says, with increased joyousness of manner; "the wind is blowing that way, is it? Then we turn to the left." Another twenty minutes stumbling through aged heather. Path trends downwards. "That's all right", says Fingen, M.P.; "must lead on to the road." Instead of which we nearly fall into a bubbling burn. Go back again; make bee line up acclivity nearly as steep as side of house; find ourselves again on top of mountain. "How lucky!" shouts Fingen, M.P., beaming with delight. As if we had been trying all this time to get to top of mountain instead of to bottom! Wants to wet his finger again and try how the wind lies. We protest. Let us be saved that at least. Fingen leads off in quite another direction. By rocky pathway which threatens sprains; through bushes and brambles that tear the clothes; by dangerous leaps from rock to rock he brings us to apparently impenetrable hedge. We stare forlorn. [Illustration: The crack of the whip('s pate!)] "Ha!" says Fingen, M.P., more aggressively cheerful than ever. "The road is on other side. Thought we would come upon it somewhere." Somehow or other we crawl through. "Nothing like having an eye to the lay of country", says Fingen, M.P., as we limp along the road. "It's a sort of instinct, you know. If I hadn't been with you, you might have had to camp out all night on the mountain." They don't play goff at Deeside. They bicycle. Down the long avenue with spreading elm trees deftly trained to make triumphal arches, the bicycles come and go. Whipsroom, M.P., thinks opportunity convenient for acquiring the art of cycling. W. is got up with consummate art. Has had his trousers cut short at knee in order to display ribbed stockings of rainbow hue. Loose tweed-jacket, blood-red necktie, white felt hat with rim turned down all round, combine to lend him air of a Drury Lane bandit out of work. Determined to learn to ride the bicycle, but spends most of the day on his hands and knees, or on his back. Looking down avenue at any moment pretty sure to find W. either running into the iron fence, coming off sideways, or bolting head first over the handles of his bike. Get quite new views of him fore-shortened in all possible ways, some that would be impossible to any but a man of his determination. "Never had a man stay in the house", says Fingen, M.P., ruefully, "who so cut up the lawn with his head, or indented the gravel with his elbows and his knees." Evidently I was mistaken about goff. Cycling's the thing in Scotland. _Goasyoucan, Inverness-shire, Saturday._--Wrong again. Not goff nor cycling is the thing to do in Scotland. It's stalking. Soon learn that great truth at Goasyoucan. The hills that encircle the house densely populated with stags. To-day three guns grassed nine, one a royal. This the place to spend a happy day, crouching down among the heather awaiting the fortuitous moment. Weather no object. Rain or snow out you go, submissive to guidance and instruction of keeper; by comparison with whose tyranny life of the ancient galley-slave was perfect freedom. Consummation of human delight this, to lie prone on your face amid the wet heather, with the rain pattering down incessantly, or the snow pitilessly falling, covering you up flake by flake as if it were a robin and you a babe in the wood. Mustn't stir; mustn't speak; if you can conveniently dispense with the operation, better not breathe. Sometimes, after morning and greater part of afternoon thus cheerfully spent, you may get a shot; even a stag. Also you may not; or, having attained the first, may miss the latter. At any rate you have spent a day of exhilarating delight. Stalking is evidently the thing to do in Scotland. It's a far cry to the Highlands. Happily there is Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh town where beginners can practise, and old hands may feign delight of early triumphs. * * * * * [Illustration: THE "IRREPRESSIBLE" AGAIN _Gent in Knickerbockers._ "Rummy speakers them 'Ighlanders, 'Enery. When we wos talking to one of the 'ands, did you notice 'im saying '_nozzing_' for '_nothink_,' and '_she_' for '_e_'?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE LAST STRAW" "Tired out, are you? Try a drop of brandy! Eh!--what!--confound----By jingo, I've forgotten my flask!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOTHING LIKE MOUNTAIN AIR _Tourist (who has been refreshing himself with the toddy of the country)._ "I shay, ole fler! Highlands seem to 'gree with you wonerfly--annomishtake. Why, you look DOUBLE the man already!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE HEIGHT OF BLISS _Highland Shepherd._ "Fine toon, Glasco', I pelieve, and lots o' coot meat there." _Tourist._ "Oh, yes, lots." _Highland Shepherd._ "An' drink, too?" _Tourist._ "Oh, yes." _Highland Shepherd (doubtingly)._ "Ye'll get porter tae yir parrich?" _Tourist._ "Yes, if we like." _Highland Shepherd._ "Cra-ci-ous!" [_Speechless with admiration._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: TENACITY _First North Briton_ (_on the Oban boat, in a rolling sea and dirty weather_). "Thraw it up, man, and ye'll feel a' the better!" _Second ditto_ (_keeping it down_). "Hech, mon, it's whuskey!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EXCUSABLE WRATH _Drover_ (_exhausted with his struggles_). "Whit are ye wouf, woufan' there, ye stupit ass! It wud be wis-eer like if ye gang awn hame, an' bring a barrow!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SOFT IMPEACHMENT _Sporting Saxon (mournfully, after three weeks' incessant down-pour)._ "Does it always rain like this up here, Mr. McFuskey?" _His Guide, Philosopher, and Friendly Landlord (calmly)._ "Oo aye, it's a-ye just a wee bit shooery."!!] * * * * * [Illustration: ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCH 2 A.M. _Brown (who has taken a shooting-box in the Highlands, and has been "celebrating" his first appearance in a kilt)._ "Worsht of these ole-fashioned beshteads is, they take such a lot of climbin' into!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GUILDERSTEIN IN THE HIGHLANDS _Mrs. G._ "We must leave this horrible place, dear. The keeper has just told me there is disease on the moor. Good gracious, the boys might take it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GREAT DRAWBACK _Dougal_ (_with all his native contempt for the Londoner_). "Aye, mon, an' he's no a bad shot?" _Davie._ "'Deed an' he's a verra _guid_ shot." _Dougal._ "Hech! it's an awfu' peetie he's a Londoner!"] * * * * * NOTES FROM THE HIGHLANDS "_Jam satis terris,_" _&c._ _Alt-na-blashy._--The aqueous and igneous agencies seem to be combined in these quarters, for since the rain we hear of a great increase of burns. In default of the moors we fall back on the kitchen and the cellar. I need hardly add that dry wines are almost exclusively used by our party, and moist sugar is generally avoided. Dripping, too, is discontinued, and everything that is likely to whet the appetite is at a discount. _Drizzle-arich._--A Frenchman, soaked out of our bothy by the moisture of the weather, was overheard to exclaim "_Après moi le déluge._" _Inverdreary._--Greatly to the indignation of their chief, several of the "Children of the Mist", in this romantic but rainy region, have assumed the garb of the Mackintoshes. _Loch Drunkie._--We have several partners in misery within hail, or life would be fairly washed out of us. We make up parties alternately at our shooting quarters when the weather allows of wading between them. Inebriation, it is to be feared, must be on the increase, for few of us who go out to dinner return without making a wet night of it. Meantime, the watering-places in our vicinity--in particular the Linns o' Dun-Dreepie--are literally overflowing. It is asserted that even young horses are growing impatient of the reins. Our greatest comfort is the weekly budget of dry humour from _Mr. Punch_. * * * * * A DISAPPOINTING HOST.--_Sandy._ "A 'm tellt ye hev a new nebbur, Donal'." _Donald._ "Aye." _Sandy._ "An' what like is he?" _Donald._ "Weel, he's a curious laddie. A went to hev a bit talk wi' him th' ither evenin', an' he offered me a glass o' whuskey, d'ye see? Weel, he was poorin' it oot, an' A said to him 'Stop!'--_an' he stoppit!_ That's the soort o' mon he is." * * * * * [Illustration: AMBIGUITY SCENE--_A Highland Ferry_ _Tourist._ "But we paid you sixpence each as we came over, and you said the same fare would bring us back." _Skipper._ "Well, well, and I telled ye nothing but the truth, an' it'll be no more than the same fare I'm wantin' the noo for bringin' ye back."] * * * * * [Illustration: AUGUST IN SCOTLAND _Bag Carrier (to Keeper)._ "What does the maister aye ask that body tae shoot wi' him for? He canna hit a thing!" _Keeper._ "Dod, man, I daur say he wishes they was a' like him. The same birds does him a' through the season!"] * * * * * KINREEN O' THE DEE; A PIOBRACH HEARD WAILING DOWN GLENTANNER ON THE EXILE OF THREE GENERATIONS. [Illustration] Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! I'll blaw up my chanter, I've rounded fu' weel, To mony a ranter, In mony a reel, An' pour'd a' my heart i' the win'bag wi' glee: Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! For licht wis the laughter in bonny Kinreen, An' licht wis the footfa' that glanced o'er the green, An' licht ware the hearts a' an' lichtsome the eyne, Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! The auld hoose is bare noo, A cauld hoose to me, The hearth is nae mair noo, The centre o' glee, Nae mair for the bairnies the bield it has been, Och hey, for bonny Kinreen! The auld folk, the young folk, the wee anes, an' a', A hunder years' hame birds are harried awa', Are harried an' hameless, whatever winds blaw, Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c. Fareweel my auld pleugh lan', I'll never mair pleugh it: Fareweel my auld cairt an' The auld yaud[C] that drew it. Fareweel my auld kailyard, ilk bush an' ilk tree! Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! Fareweel the auld braes, that my hand keepit green, Fareweel the auld ways where we waunder'd unseen Ere the star o' my hearth came to bonny Kinreen, Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c. The auld kirk looks up o'er The dreesome auld dead, Like a saint speakin' hope o'er Some sorrowfu' bed. Fareweel the auld kirk, an' fareweel the kirk green, They tell o' a far better hame than Kinreen! The place we wad cling to--puir simple auld fules, O' our births an' our bridals, oor blesses an' dools, Whare oor wee bits o' bairnies lie cauld i' the mools.[D] Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c. I aft times hae wunder'd If deer be as dear, As sweet ties o' kindred, To peasant or peer; As the tie to the hames o' the land born be, Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! The heather that blossoms unkent o' the moor, Wad dee in his lordship's best greenhoose, I'm sure, To the wunder o' mony a fairy land flure. Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c. Though little the thing be, Oor ain we can ca'; That little we cling be, The mair that it's sma'; Though puir wis oor hame, an' thogh wild wis the scene, 'Twas the hame o' oor hearts: it was bonnie Kinreen. An yet we maun leave it, baith grey head an bairn; Leave it to fatten the deer o' Cock-Cairn, O' Pannanich wuds an' o' Morven o' Gairn. Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Kinreen o' the Dee! Sae Fareweel for ever, Kinreen of the Dee! [Footnote C: Mare.] [Footnote D: Earth.] * * * * * [Illustration: CANNY! _Sportsman._ "That's a tough old fellow, Jemmy!" _Keeper._ "Aye, sir, a grand bird to send to your freens!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EXPERTO CREDE _Tourist_ (_on approaching hostelry_). "What will you have, coachman?" _Driver._ "A wee drap whuskey, sir, thank you." _Tourist._ "All right I'll get down and send it out to you." _Driver._ "Na, na, gie me the saxpence. They'll gie you an unco sma' gless!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A LAMENT FROM THE NORTH "And then the weather's been so bad, Donald!" "Ou ay, sir. Only three fine days--and twa of them snappit up by the Sawbath!"] * * * * * TWO ON A TOUR "Can you tell me which is Croft Lochay?" The smith leant on his pitchfork--he had been up at the hay--and eyed Gwendolen and myself with friendly interest. "Ye'll be the gentry from London Mistress McDiarmat is expectin'?" "And which is the way to her house?" "Well", said the smith, shading his eyes as he peered up at the Ben, "ye can't see it rightly from here, as it lies behind yon knowe. It's a whole year whatever since I hev not been up myself; but if you follow the burn----" I glanced at Gwen and saw that she shared my satisfaction. To cross the edge of civilisation had for months past been our hearts' desire; and to have achieved a jumping-off place only approachable by a burn exceeded our wildest ambitions. We thanked the smith, and set off on our expedition up the mountain side. "We twa hae paidlit in the burn", sang Gwendolen as she skipped like a goat from stone to stone. "O Jack, isn't it too primitive and delightful!" "Rather", said I, inhaling great draughts of the mountain air. "Aren't you hungry?" "Rather", I repeated. "Wonder what there'll be to eat." "Oh, I don't care what it is. Anything will be delicious. Is that the house, do you think?" I looked up and saw above us a low white-washed shanty covered with thatch which was kept in its place by a network of laths. A few heavy stones were evidently designed to keep the roof from blowing off in winter storms. "No", said Gwen. "That must be the cowhouse byre, don't you call it?" "I'm not so sure", said I. While we were still uncertain, a figure came to the door and bade us welcome. "Come in, come in. Ye'll be tired with the travelling, and ye'll like to see the rooms." We acquiesced, and Mistress McDiarmat led the way into the cowhouse. "Shoo!" she cried as she opened the door of the bedroom. "Get away, Speckle! The hens _will_ lay their bit egg on the bed, sir." "What fresh eggs we shall get!" cried Gwen, delighted with this fresh proof of rusticity and with the Gaelic gutturals with which Mistress McDiarmat emphasized her remarks to Speckle. The "other end" was furnished with two hard chairs, a table and a bed. "Fancy a bed in the dining-room and hens in your bed!" said Gwen, in the highest of spirits. "And here comes tea! Eggs and bacon--Ah! how lovely they smell, and how much nicer than horrid, stodgy dinners! And oatcakes--and jelly--and the lightest feathery scones! O Jack, isn't it heavenly?" "Rather", I agreed, beginning the meal with tremendous gusto. The eggs and bacon disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and then we fell to on the light feathery scones. "Wish we hadn't wasted a fortnight's time and money in ruinous Highland hotels. Wonder what Schiehallion thinks of hot baths and late dinners, not to speak of waiters and wine-lists." "I suppose", remarked Gwendolen, "one _could_ get a bath at the Temperance Inn we passed on the road?" "Baths!" cried I. "Why, my dear, one only has to go and sit under the neighbouring waterfall." Gwen did not laugh, and looking up I saw she had stopped in the middle of a scone on which she had embarked with great appetite. "Try an oat-cake", I suggested. "No, thanks", said Gwen. "A little more jelly?" Gwen shook her head. I finished my meal in silence and pulled out my pipe. "Going to smoke in here?" asked Gwen. "It's raining outside, my dear." "Oh, very well. But remember this is my bedroom. I decline to sleep with hens." I put the pipe away and prepared for conversation. "Can't you sit still?" asked Gwen after a long pause. "This chair is very hard, dear." "So is mine." "Don't you think we might sit on the bed?" "Certainly not. I shouldn't sleep a wink if we disarranged the clothes, and only an expert can re-make a chaff bed." "Wish we had something to read", I remarked, after another long pause. "Do you expect a circulating library on the top of Ben-y-Gloe?" I began to realise that Gwen was no longer in a conversational mood, and made no further efforts to break the silence. Half-an-hour later Gwen came across the room and laid her hand on my shoulder. "What are you reading, dear?" she asked. "I find we can get a train from Struan to-morrow afternoon which catches the London connection at Perth when the train's not more than two hours late." "We can't risk that. Isn't there a train in the morning?" "It would mean leaving this at five." "So much the better. O Jack, if I eat another meal like that it will be fatal. To think we shall be back in dear old Chelsea to-morrow!" * * * * * [Illustration: ORIGIN OF THE HIGHLAND SCHOTTISCHE "This is the way they tread the hay, tread the hay, tread the hay; This is the way they tread the hay, tread the hay in Scotland!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GROUSE SHOOTING LATE IN THE SEASON. JOLLY, VERY! "Come along, old fellow! Here's a point!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DEER-STALKING MADE EASY. A HINT TO LUSTY SPORTSMEN] * * * * * [Illustration: SOONER OR LATER _Old Gent._ "When is the steamer due here?" _Highland Pier-Master._ "Various. Sometimes sooner, sometimes earlier, an' even sometimes before that, too."] * * * * * [Illustration: "HARMLESS" _Cockney Sporting Gent._ "But I think it's a 'en!" _Sandy (his keeper)._ "Shoot, man, shoot! She'll be no muckle the waur o' ye!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PLEASANT _Friend (to novice at salmon fishing)._ "I say, old boy, mind how you wade; there are some tremendous holes, fourteen or fifteen feet deep."] * * * * * [Illustration:AN IMPORTANT DETAIL _Our latest Millionaire_ (_to Gillie, who has brought him within close range of the finest stag in the forest_). "I say, Mac, confound it all, _which eye do you use_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _English Tourist (in the far North, miles from anywhere)._ "Do you mean to say that you and your family live here all the winter? Why, what do you do when any of you are ill? You can never get a doctor!" _Scotch Shepherd._ "Nae, sir. We've just to dee a natural death!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--A ROADSIDE INN IN A MOORLAND DISTRICT, SCOTLAND (_The Captain and Gamekeeper call in to have some Refreshment_) _Landlady_ (_enters in fear_). "Eh, sir, yer gun's no loaded is't? for a never would bide in a hoose whaur the wur a loaded gun in a' m'life." _Captain_ (_composedly_). "Oh, we'll soon put that all right--have you got a cork?" [_Exit Landlady and brings a cork, which the Captain carefully sticks in the muzzle of the gun, and assures her it is all right now_-- _Landlady_ (_relieved_). "Ou, aye! it's a' right noo, but it wasna safe afore, ye ken."] * * * * * [Illustration: "A MONARCH OF THE GLEN" _Transatlantic Millionaire (surveying one of his deer-forests)._ "Ha! look there! I see _three excursionists_! Send 'em to the----!" _Gigantic Gillie (and chucker-out)._ "If you please, Mr. Dollers, they're _excisemen_!" _T. M._ "I don't care _who_ they are! Send 'em to the----!" _G. G._ "Yes, Mr. Dollers." [_Proceeds to carry out order._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: Sportsman (who declines to be told where to go and what to do by his gillie), after an arduous stalk in the blazing sun, at last manages to crawl within close range of those "brown specks" he discovered miles distant on the hill-side!] * * * * * [Illustration: PROMISING! _Tourist._ "Have you any decent cigars?" _Highland Grocer._ "Decent cigars? Ay, here are decent cigars enough." _Tourist._ "Are they Havanahs, or Manillas?" _Highland Grocer._ "They're just from Kircaldy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE MISS" _Gillie._ "Eh, mon! But it's fortunate there's beef in Aberdeen!"] * * * * * MR. BRIGGS IN THE HIGHLANDS _By_ JOHN LEECH [Illustration: Mr. Briggs, feeling that his heart is in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, starts for the North.] [Illustration: Before going out, Mr. Briggs and his friends have a quiet chat about deer-stalking generally. He listens with much interest to some pleasing anecdotes about the little incidents frequently met with--such as balls going through caps--toes being shot off!--occasionally being gored by the antlers of infuriate stags, &c., &c., &c.] [Illustration: Mr. Briggs, previous to going through his course of deer-stalking, assists the forester in getting a hart or two for the house. Donald is requesting our friend to hold the animal down by the horns. [N.B. The said animal is as strong as a bull, and uses his legs like a race-horse. ] [Illustration: The deer are driven for Mr. Briggs. He has an excellent place, but what with waiting by himself so long, the murmur of the stream, the beauty of the scene, and the novelty of the situation, he falls asleep, and while he takes his forty winks, the deer pass!] [Illustration: As the wind is favourable, the deer are driven again.] [Illustration: Mr. Briggs is suddenly face to face with the monarch of the glen! He is so astonished that he omits to fire his rifle.] [Illustration: To-day he goes out for a stalk, and Donald shows Mr. Briggs the way!] [Illustration: After a good deal of climbing, our friend gets to the top of Ben-something-or-other, and the forester looks out to see if there are any deer on the hills. Yes! several hinds, and perhaps the finest hart that ever was seen.] [Illustration: To get at him, they are obliged to go a long way round. Before they get down, the shower, peculiar to the country, overtakes them, so they "shelter a-wee."] [Illustration: With extraordinary perseverance they come within shot of "the finest hart." Mr. B. is out of breath, afraid of slipping, and wants to blow his nose (quite out of the question), otherwise he is tolerably comfortable.] [Illustration: After aiming for a quarter of an hour, Mr. B. fires both his barrels--and--misses!!!! _Tableau_--The forester's anguish] [Illustration: The royal hart Mr. Briggs did NOT hit.] [Illustration: Mr. Briggs has another day's stalking, and his rifle having gone off sooner than he expected, he kills a stag. As it is his first, he is made free of the forest by the process customary on the hills!--] [Illustration: And returns home in triumph. He is a little knocked up, but after a nap, will, no doubt, go through the broad-sword dance in the evening as usual.] [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS GROUSE SHOOTING 9 A.M. His arrival on the moor.--Mr. Briggs says that the fine bracing air makes him so vigorous that he shall never be beat. He also facetiously remarks that he is on "his native heath", and that his "name is Macgregor!" [_The result of the day's sport will be communicated by electric telegraph._ ] * * * * * SKETCHES FROM SCOTLAND AT THE DRUMQUHIDDER HIGHLAND GATHERING. SCENE--_A meadow near Drumquhidder, South Perthshire, where the annual Highland Games are being held. The programme being a long one, there are generally three events being contested in various parts of the ground at the same time. On the benches immediately below the Grand Stand are seated two Drumquhidder worthies_, MR. PARRITCH _and_ MR. HAVERS, _with_ MRS. McTAVISH _and her niece, two acquaintances from Glasgow, to whom they are endeavouring--not altogether successfully--to make themselves agreeable_. _Mr. Havers_ (_in allusion to the dozen or so of drags, landaus, and waggonettes on the ground_). There's a number o' machines hier the day, Messis McTarvish, an' a wonderfu' crood; there'll be a bit scarceness ower on yon side, but a gey many a'thegither. I conseeder we're jest awfu' forrtunate in the day an' a'. [_Mrs. McTavish assents, but without enthusiasm._ _Mr. Parritch._ I've jist ben keekin into the Refraishmen' Tent. It's an awfu' peety they're no pairmeetin' ony intoaxicans--naethin' but non-alcohoalic liquors an' sic like, an' the hawm-sawndwiches no verra tender. (_With gallantry._) What do ye say, noo, Messis McTarvish--wull ye no come an' tak' a bite wi' me? _Mrs. McTavish (distantly)._ Ah'm no feelin' able for't jist the noo, Mester Pairritch. _Mr. Parr._ Ye'll hae a boatle o' leemonade at my expense? Ye'll no? Then ye wull, Mess Rawse. (_With relief, as Miss Rose declines also._) Aweel, I jist thocht I'd pit the quaistion. (_To a friend of his, who joins them._) An' hoo's a' wi' ye, Mester McKerrow? Ye're a member o' the Cawmittee, I obsairve, sae I'll hae to keck up a bet row wi' ye. _Mr. McKerrow (unconcernedly)._ Then ye'll jist to hae to keck it doon again. What's wrang the noo? _Mr. Parr._ I'd like to ask ye if ye conseeder it fair or jest to charrge us tippence every time we'd go aff the groon? Man, it's jist an extoartion. _Mr. McKerr._ I'm no responsible for't; but, if I'd ben there, I'd ha' chairged ye twa shellins; sae ye'd better say nae mair aboot the maitter. [_Mr. Parritch does not pursue the subject._ _Mr. Havers (as a detachment of the Black Watch Highlanders conclude an exhibition of musical drill)._ Ye'll be the baiter o' haeing the Block Wetch hier the day. Man, they gie us a colour! It's verra pretty hoo nicely they can pairforrm the drill.... An' noo them sojers is gaun to rin a bet race amang theirsels. This'll be an extry cawmpeteetion, I doot. (_As the race is being run._) It's no a verra suitable dress for rinnin'--the spleughan--or "sporran", is it?--hairrts them tairible. _Mr. McKerr. (contradictiously)._ The sporran does na hairrt them at a'. _Mr. Havers._ Man, it's knockin' against them at every stride they tak'. (_His attention wanders to a Highland Fling, which three small boys are dancing on a platform opposite._) He's an awfu' bonnie dauncer that wee laddie i' the meddle! _Mr. McKerr._ Na sae awfu' bonnie, he luiks tae much at his taes. Yon on the richt is the laddie o' the lote! He disna move his boady at a'.... This'll be the Half Mile Handicap they're stairting for down yonder. It'll gae to Jock Alister--him in the blue breeks. _Mr. Parr._ Yon grup-luikin' tyke? I canna thenk it. _Mr. Havers._ Na, it'll be yon bald-heided man in broon. He's verra enthusiastic. He's ben rinnin' in a' the races, I obsairve. "Smeth" did ye say his neem was? (_To Miss Rose, "pawkily"._) Ye'll hae an affaictionate regaird for that neem, I'm thenking, Mess Rawse? _Miss Rose (with maidenly displeasure)._ 'Deed, an I'm no unnerstanding why ye should thenk ony sic a thing! _Mr. Havers (abashed)._ I beg your pairrdon. I don't know hoo it was I gethered Smeth was your ain neem. (_Miss Rose shakes her head._) No? Then maybe ye'll be acquaint with a Mester Alexawnder Smeth fro' Paisley? (_Miss Rose is not, nor apparently desires to be, and Mr. Havers returns to the foot-race._) The baldheid's leadin' them a', I tellt ye he'd----Na, he's gien up! it'll be the little block fellow, he's peckin' up tairible! _Mr. Parr._ 'Twull no be him. Yon lang chap has an easy jobe o't. Ye'll see he'll jist putt a spairrt on at yon faur poast--he's comin' on noo--he's.... Losh! he's only thirrd after a'; he didna putt the spairrt on sune eneugh; that was the gran' fau't he made! _Mr. Havers._ They'll be begenning the wrustling oot yon in the centre....(_As the competitors grip._) Losh! that's no the way to wrustle; they shouldna left the ither up; they're no allowed to threp! _Mr. McKerr._ That's jist the game, I'm telling ye; ye know naething at a' aboot it! [Illustration: "That's jist the game, I'm telling ye; ye know naething at a' aboot it!"] _Mr. Havers._ I'd sthruggle baiter'n that mysel', it's no great wrustling at a', merely bairrns' play! _Mr. McKerr (as a corpulent elderly gentleman appears, in very pink tights)._ Ye'll see some science noo, for hier's McBannock o' Balwhuskie, the chawmpion. _Mr. Havers (disenchanted)._ Wull yon be him in the penk breeks. Man, but he's awfu' stoot for sic wark! _Mr. McKerr._ The wecht of him's no easy put doon. The rest are boys to him. _Mr. Parr._ I doot the little dairk fellow'll hae him ... it's a gey sthruggle. _Mr. McKerr._ He's not doon yet. Wull ye bait sexpence against McBannock, Mester Pairritch? _Mr. Parr. (promptly)._ Aye, wull I--na, he's got the dairk mon doon. I was jist mindin' the sword-daunce, sae the bait's aff. (_Three men in full Highland costume step upon the platform and stand, proud and impassive, fronting the grand stand, while the judges walk round them, making careful notes of their respective points._) What wull _they_ be aboot? _Mr. McKerr._ It'll be the prize for the mon who's the best dressed Hielander at his ain expense. I'm thenkin' they'll find it no verra easy to come to a deceesion. _Mr. Parr._ Deed, it's no sae deeficult; 'twill be the mon in the centre, sure as deith! _Mr. Havers._ Ye say that because he has a' them gowd maidles hing on his jocket! _Mr. Parr_. (_loftily_). I pay no attention to the maidles at a'. I'm sayin' that Dougal Macrae is the best dressed Hielander o' the three. _Mr. Havers._ It'll no be Macrae at a'. Jock McEwan, that's furthest west, 'll be the mon. _Mr. Parr._ (_dogmatically_). It'll be Macrae, I'm tellin' ye. He has the nicest kelt on him that iver I sa'! _Mr. Havers._ It's no the _kelt_ that diz it, 'tis jist the way they pit it on. An' Macrae'll hae his tae faur doon, a guid twa enches too low, it is. _Mr. Parr._ Ye're a' wrang, the kelt is on richt eneugh! _Mr. Havers._ I know fine hoo a kelt should be pit an, though I'm no Hielander mysel', and I'll ask ye, Mess Rawse, if Dougal Macrae's kelt isn't too lang; it's jist losin his knees a' thegither, like a lassie he looks in it! [_Miss Rose declines, with some stiffness, to express an opinion on so delicate a point._ _Mr. Parr. (recklessly)._ I'll pit a sexpence on Macrae wi' ye, come noo! _Mr. Havers._ Na, na, pit cawmpetent jedges on to deceede, and they'll be o' my opeenion; but I'll no bait wi' ye. _Mr. Parr. (his blood up)._ Then I'll hae a sexpence on 't wi you, Mester McKerrow! _Mr. McKerr._ Nay, I'm for Macrae mysel'.... An' we're baith in the richt o't too, for they've jist gien him the bit red flag--that means he's got firsst prize. _Mr. Parr. (to Mr. Havers, with reproach)._ Man, if ye'd hed the speerit o' your opeenions, I'd ha' won sexpence aff ye by noo! _Mr. Havers (obstinately)._ I canna thenk but that Macrae's kelt was too lang--prize or no prize. I'll be telling him when I see him that he looked like a lassie in it. _Mr. Parr. (with concern)._ I wouldna jist advise ye to say ony sic a thing to him. These Hielanders are awfu' prood; and he micht tak' it gey ill fro' ye! _Mr. Havers._ I see nae hairrm mysel' in jist tellin' him, in a pleesant, daffin-like way, that he looked like a lassie in his kelt. But there's nae tellin' hoo ye may offend some fowk; an' I'm thenking it's no sae verra prawbable that I'll hae the oaportunity o' saying onything aboot the maitter to him. * * * * * AWKWARD FOR HIM.--_Tam._ "I'm sayin', man, my cairt o' hay's fa'en ower. Will ye gie 's a haund up wi' 't?" _Jock._ "'Deed will I. But ye'll be in nae hurry till I get tae the end o' the raw?" _Tam._ "Ou no. I'm in nae hurry, but I doot my faither 'll be wearyin'." _Jock._ "An' whaur's yer faither?" _Tam._ "He's in below the hay!" * * * * * [Illustration: "MISTAKEN IDENTITY" SCENE--_Northern Meeting at Inverness._ PERSONS REPRESENTED--Ian Gorm _and_ Dougald Mohr, _gillies_. Mr. Smith, _of London_. _First Gillie._ "Wull yon be the MacWhannel, Ian Gorm?" _Second ditto._ "No!! Hes nae-um is Muster Smuth! And he ahl-ways wears the kult--and it is foohl that you aar, Tougalt Mohr!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: (LOCH) FYNE GRAMMAR (_A Sad Fact for the School Board_) _Tugal._ "Dud ye'll ever see the _I-oo-na_ any more before?" _Tonal._ "Surely I was." _Tugal._ "Ay, ay! Maybe you was never on poard too, after thus----" _Tonal._ "I dud."] * * * * * [Illustration: NON BEN (LOMOND) TROVATO. _Rory (fresh from the hills)._ "Hech, mon! Ye're loassin' a' yer watter!!" _Aungus._ "Haud yer tongue, ye feul! Ett's latt oot to stoap the laddies frae ridin' ahint!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NOTHING LIKE LEATHER" _Bookseller_ (_to Lanarkshire country gentleman who had brought his back numbers to be bound_). "Would you like them done in 'Russia' or 'Morocco,' sir?" _Old Gentleman._ "Na, never maind aboot Rooshy or Moroccy. I'll just hae 'em boond in Glasgy here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TROUBLES OF STALKING _Irate Gillie_ (_on discovering in the distance, for the third time that morning, a "brute of a man" moving about in his favourite bit of "forest"_). "Oh! deil take the people! Come awa', Muster Brown, sir; _it's just Peekadilly!!!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A FALLEN ASS _Indignant Gillie_ (_to Jones, of London, who has by mistake killed a hind_). "I thoucht ony fule ken't it was the stags that had the horns!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BONCHIENIE _Young Lady Tourist_ (_caressing the hotel terrier, Bareglourie, N.B._). "Oh, Binkie is his name! He seems inclined to be quite friendly with me." _Waiter._ "Oo, aye, miss, he's no vera parteec'lar wha he taks oop wi!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "CANNY" _First North Briton._ "'T's a fine day, this?" _Second ditto._ "No ill, ava." _First ditto._ "Ye'll be travellin'?" _Second ditto._ "Weel, maybe I'm no." _First ditto._ "Gaun t'Aberdeen, maybe?" _Second ditto._ "Ye're no faur aff't!!" [_Mutually satisfied, each goes his respective way_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PURCHASING LIMIT _Mr. Steinsen_ (_our latest millionaire--after his third fruitless stalk_). "Now, look here, you rascal! if you can't have the brutes tamer, I'm hanged if I don't sack you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GROWING POPULARITY OF THE HIGHLANDS _Mrs. Smith_ (_of Brixton_). "Lor', Mr. Brown, I 'ardly knoo yer! Only think of our meetin' _'ere_, this year, instead of dear old Margit! An' I suppose that's the costume you go _salmon-stalking_ in?"] * * * * * MORE SKETCHES FROM SCOTLAND ON A CALLANDER CHAR-A-BANC. SCENE--_In front of the Trossachs Hotel. The few passengers bound for Callander have been sitting for several minutes on the coach "Fitz-James" in pelting rain, resignedly wondering when the driver will consider them sufficiently wet to start._ _The Head Boots (to the driver)._ There's another to come yet; he'll no be lang now. (_The cause of the delay comes down the hotel steps, and surveys the vehicle and its occupants with a surly scowl._) Up with ye, sir, plenty of room on the second seats. _The Surly Passenger._ And have all the umbrellas behind dripping on my hat! No, thank you, I'm going in front. (_He mounts, and takes up the apron._) Here, driver, just look at this apron--it's sopping wet! _The Driver (tranquilly)._ Aye, I'm thinking it wull ha' got a bet domp. [Illustration: "Ou aye, ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to it."] _The Surly P._ Well, I'm not going to have this over me. Haven't you got a _dry_ one somewhere? _The Driver._ There'll be dry ones at Collander. _The Surly P. (with a snort)._ At Callander! Much good that is! (_With crushing sarcasm._) If I'm to keep dry on this concern, it strikes me I'd better get inside the boot at once! _The Driver (with the air of a man who is making a concession)._ Ou aye, ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to it. [_The coach starts, and is presently stopped at a corner to take up a male and a female passenger, who occupy the seats immediately behind the Surly Passenger._ _The Female P. (enthusiastically, to her companion)._ There's dear old Mrs. Macfarlane, come out to see the last of us! Look at her standing out there in the garden, all in the rain. That's what I always say about the Scotch--they _are_ warm-hearted! [_She waves her hand in farewell to some distant object._ _Her Companion. That_ ain't her; that's an old apple-tree in the garden _you_'re waving to. _She's_ keeping indoors--and shows her sense too. _The Female P. (disgusted)._ Well, I _do_ think after our being at the farm a fortnight and all, she _might_----But that's Scotch all _over_, that is; get all they can out of you, and then, for anything _they_ care----! _The Surly P._ I don't know whether you are aware of it, ma'am, but that umbrella of yours is sending a constant trickle down the back of my neck, which is _most_ unpleasant! _The Female P._ I'm sorry to hear it, sir, but it's no worse for you than it is for me. I've got somebody else's umbrella dripping down _my_ back, and _I_ don't complain. _The Surly P._ I _do_, ma'am, for, being in front, I haven't even the poor consolation of feeling that my umbrella is a nuisance to anybody. _A Sardonic P. (in the rear, politely)._ On the contrary, sir, I find it a most pleasing object to contemplate. Far more picturesque, I don't doubt, than any scenery it may happen to conceal. _A Chatty P. (to the driver; not because he cares, but simply for the sake of conversation)._ What fish do you catch in that river there? _The Driver (with an effort)._ There'll be troots, an', maybe, a pairrch or two. _The Chatty P._ Perch? Ah, that's rather like a goldfish in shape, eh? _Driver (cautiously)._ Aye, it would be that. _Chatty P._ Only considerably bigger, of course. _Driver (evasively)._ Pairrch is no a verra beg fesh. _Chatty P._ But bigger than goldfish. _Driver (more confidently)._ Ou aye, they'll be begger than goldfesh. _Chatty P. (persistently)._ You've seen goldfish--know what they're like, eh? _Driver (placidly)._ I canna say I do. [_They pass a shooting party with beaters._ _Chatty P. (as before)._ What are they going to shoot? _Driver._ They'll jist be going up to the hells for a bet grouse drivin'. _A Lady P._ I wonder why they carry those poles with the red and yellow flags. I suppose they're to warn tourists to keep out of range when they begin firing at the butts. I know they _have_ butts up on the moor, because I've seen them. Just look at those birds running after that man throwing grain for them. Would those be _grouse_? _Driver._ Ye'll no find grouse so tame as that, mem; they'll jist be phaysants. _The Lady P._ Poor dear things! why, they're as tame as chickens. It _does_ seem so cruel to kill them! _Her Comp._ Well, but they kill chickens, occasionally. _The Lady P._ Not with a horrid gun; and, besides, that's such a totally different thing. _The Chatty P._ What do you call that mountain, driver, eh? _Driver._ Yon hell? I'm no minding its name. _The Surly P._ You don't seem very ready in pointing out the objects of interests on the route, I must say. _Driver (modestly)._ There'll be them on the corch that know as much aboot it as myself. (_After a pause--to vindicate his character as a cicerone._) Did ye nottice a bit building at the end of the loch over yonder? _The Surly P._ No, I didn't. _Driver._ Ye might ha' seen it, had ye looked. [_He relapses into a contented silence._ _Chatty P._ Anything remarkable about the building? _Driver._ It was no the building that's remairkable. (_After a severe struggle with his own reticence._) It was jist the spoat. 'Twas there _Roderick Dhu_ fought _Fitz-James_ after convoying him that far on his way. [_The Surly Passenger snorts as though he didn't consider this information._ _The Lady P. (who doesn't seem to be up in her "Lady of the Lake"). Fitz-James who?_ _Her Comp._ I fancy he's the man who owns this line of coaches. There's his name on the side of this one. _The Lady P._ And I saw _Roderick Dhu's_ on another coach. I _thought_ it sounded familiar, somehow. He must be the _rival_ proprietor, I suppose. I wonder if they've made it up yet. _The Driver (to the Surly Passenger, with another outburst of communicativeness)._ Yon stoan is called "Sawmson's Putting Stoan." He hurrled it up to the tope of the hell, whaur it's bided ever sence. [_The Surly Passenger receives this information with an incredulous grunt._ _The Lady P._ What a magnificent old ruin that is across the valley, some ancient castle, evidently; they can't build like that nowadays! _The Driver._ That's the Collander Hydropawthec, mem; burrnt doon two or three years back. _The Lady P. (with a sense of the irony of events)._ _Burnt_ down! A Hydropathic! Fancy! _Male P. (as they enter Callander and pass a trim villa)._ There, _that's_ Mr. Figgis's place. _His Comp._ What--_that_? Why, it's quite a _bee-yutiful_ place, with green venetians, and a conservatory, and a croaky lawn, and everything! Fancy all that belonging to _him!_ It's well to be a grocer--in _these_ parts, seemingly! _Male P._ Ah, _we_ ought to come up and start business here; it 'ud be better than being in the Caledonian Road! [_They meditate for the remainder of the journey upon the caprices of Fortune with regard to grocery profits in Caledonia and the Caledonian Road respectively._ * * * * * [Illustration: "MEN WERE DECEIVERS EVER" _Mr. Punch_ is at present in the Highlands "a-chasing the deer." _Mrs. Punch_ is at home, and has promised all her friends haunches of venison as soon as they arrive!] * * * * * [Illustration: "DESIRABLE" _Saxon Passenger (on Highland coach)._ "Of course you're well acquainted with the country round about here. Do you know 'Glen Accron'?" _Driver._ "Aye, weel." _Saxon Passenger (who had just bought the estate)._ "What sort of a place is it?" _Driver._ "Weel, if ye saw the deil tethered on't, ye'd just say 'Puir brute'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ISOLATION!--OFF THE ORKNEYS _Southern Tourist._ "'Get any newspapers here?" _Orcadian Boatman._ "Ou aye, when the steamer comes. If it's fine, she'll come ance a week; but when it's stormy, i' winter, we dinna catch a glint o' her for three months at a time." _S. T._ "Then you'll not know what's goin' on in London!" _O. B._ "Na--but ye see ye're just as ill aff i' London as we are, for ye dinna ken what's gaun on here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE MOORS _The Laird's Brother-in-law (from London)._ "It's very strange, Lachlan! I'm having no luck!--and yet I seem to see two birds in place of one? That was surely very strong whiskey your master gave me at lunch?" _Keeper._ "Maybe aye and maybe no--the whuskey was goot; but any way ye dinna manage to hit the richt bird o' the twa!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A POOR ADVERTISEMENT _Tourist._ "I suppose you feel proud to have such a distinguished man staying in your house?" _Host of the "Drumdonnachie Arms."_ "'Deed no! A body like that does us mair hairm than guid; his appearance is nae credit tae oor commissariat!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GENEROSITY _Noble Lord (whose rifle has brought to a scarcely untimely end a very consumptive-looking fallow deer)._ "Tut--t, t, t, t, tut! O, I say, Stubbs!"--(_to his keeper_)--"you shouldn't have let me kill such a poor, little, sickly, scraggy thing as this, you know! It positively isn't fit for human food! Ah! look here, now! I'll tell you what. You and McFarlin may have this buck between you!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRAVELLER TOO BONÂ FIDE _Dusty Pedestrian._ "I should like a glass of beer, missis, please----" _Landlady._ "Hae ye been trevellin' by rell?" _Pedestrian._ "No, I've been walking--fourteen miles." _Landlady._ "Na, na, nae drink will ony yin get here, wha's been pleesure-seekin' o' the Sawbath day!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS He goes on board the _Iona_. The only drawback to his perfect enjoyment is the jealousy caused among all the gentlemen by the ladies clustering round him on all occasions.] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS There were often unforeseen circumstances which gave to the Highland stalking of those days an added zest!] * * * * * THE PLEASURES OF TRAVEL (_By Ane that has kent them_) [Illustration] 'Tis a great thing, the Traivel; I'll thank ye tae find Its equal for openin' the poors o' the mind. It mak's a man polished, an' gies him, ye ken, Sic a graun' cosmypollitan knowledge o' men! I ne'er was a stay-at-hame callant ava, I aye must be rantin' an' roamin' awa', An' far hae I wandered, an' muckle hae seen O' the ways o' the warl' wi' ma vara ain een. I've been tae Kingskettle wi' Wullie an' Jeames, I've veesited Anster an' Elie an' Wemyss, I've walked tae Kirkca'dy an' Cupar an' Crail, An' I aince was awa' tae Dundee wi' the rail. Losh me, sir! The wonnerfu' things that I saw! The kirks wi' their steeples, sae bonny an' braw An' publics whauriver ye turned wi' yer ee-- 'Tis jist a complete eddication, Dundee! Theer's streets--be the hunner! An' shops be the score! Theer's bakers an' grocers an' fleshers galore! An' milliners' winders a' flauntin' awa' Wi' the last o' the fashions frae Lunnon an' a'. An' eh, sic a thrang, sir! I saw in a minnit Mair folk than the toun o' Kinghorn will hae in it I wadna hae thocht that the hail o' creation Could boast at ae time sic a vast population! Ma word, sir! It gars ye clap haun' tae yer broo An' wunner what's Providence after the noo That he lets sic a swarm o' they cratur's be born Wham naebody kens aboot here in Kinghorn. What?--Leeberal minded?--Ye canna but be When ye've had sic a graun' eddication as me. For oh, theer is naethin' like traivel, ye ken, For growin' acquent wi' the natur' o' men. * * * * * "FALLS OF FOYERS."--A correspondent writes:--"I have seen a good many letters in the _Times_, headed 'The Falls of the Foyers.' Here and abroad I have seen many Foyers, and only fell down once. This was at the Théâtre Francais, where the Foyer is kept highly polished, or used to be so. If the Foyers are carpeted or matted, there need be no 'Falls.' Yours, COMMON SENSE." * * * * * [Illustration: "WINGED" _First Gael._ "What's the matter, Tonal?" _Second ditto (who had been out with Old Briggs)._ "Matter! Hur legs is full o' shoots".] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH AT THE HIGHLAND GAMES Shows the natives how to "put the stone."] * * * * * [Illustration: AN ARTIST SCAMP IN THE HIGHLANDS _Artist (entering)._ "My good woman, if you'll allow me, I'll just paint that bedstead of yours." _Cottager (with bob-curtsey)._ "Thank ye, sir, I' sure it's very kind of ye--but dinna ye think that little one over yonder wants it more?"] * * * * * EN ÉCOSSE _À Monsieur Punch_ DEAR MISTER,--I come of to make a little voyage in Scotland. Ah, the beautiful country of Sir Scott, Sir Wallace, and Sir Burns! I am gone to render visit to one of my english friends, a charming boy--_un charmant garçon_--and his wife, a lady very instructed and very spiritual, and their childs. I adore them, the dear little english childs, who have the cheeks like some roses, and the hairs like some flax, as one says in your country, all buckled--_bouclés_, how say you? I go by the train of night--in french one says "_le sleeping_"--to Edimbourg, and then to Calendar, where I attend to find a coach--in french one says "_un mail_" or "_un fourinhand_." _Nom d'une pipe_, it is one of those ridicule carriages, called in french "_un breack_" and in english a char-à-banc--that which the english pronounce "_tcherribaingue_"--which attends us at the going out of the station! Eh well, in voyage one must habituate himself to all! But a such carriage discovered--_découverte_--seems to me well unuseful in a country where he falls of rain without cease. Before to start I demand of all the world some _renseignements_ on the scottish climate, and all the world responds me, "All-days of the rain." By consequence I procure myself some impermeable vestments, one mackintosch coat, one mackintosch cape of Inverness, one mackintosch covering of voyage, one south-western hat, some umbrellas, some gaiters, and many pairs of boots very thick--not boots of town, but veritable "shootings." I arrive at Edimbourg by a morning of the most sads; the sky grey, the earth wet, the air humid. Therefore I propose to myself to search at Calender a place at the interior, _et voilà_--and see there--the _breack_ has no interior! There is but that which one calls a "boot", and me, Auguste, can I to lie myself there at the middle of the baggages? Ah no! Thus I am forced to endorse--_endosser_--my impermeable vestments and to protect myself the head by my south-western hat. Then, holding firmly the most strong of my umbrellas, I say to the coacher, "He goes to fall of the rain, is it not?" He makes a sign of head of not to comprehend. Ah, for sure, he is scottish! I indicate the sky and my umbrella, and I say "Rain?" and then he comprehends. "_Eh huile_", he responds to me, "_ah canna sé, mébi huile no hé meukl the dé_." I write this phonetically, for I comprehend not the scottish language. What droll of conversation! Him comprehends not the english; me I comprehend not the scottish. But I essay of new, "How many has he of it from here to the lake?" _C'est inutile_--it is unuseful. I say, "Distance?" He comprehends. "_Mébi oui taque toua hours_", says he; "_beutt yile no fache yoursel, its no sé lang that yile bi ouishinn yoursel aoua_." _Quelle langue_--what language, even to write phonetically! I comprehend one sole word, "hours." Some hours! _Sapristi!_ I say, "Hours?" He says "_Toua_" all together, a monosyllable. _Sans aucune doute ça veut dire_ "twelve"--_douze_. Twelve hours on a _breack_ in a such climate! Ah, no! _C'est trop fort_--it is too strong! "Hold", I cry myself, "attend, I descend, I go not!" It is true that I see not how I can to descend, for I am _entouré_--how say you? of voyagers. We are five on a bench, of the most narrows, and me I am at the middle. And the bench before us is also complete, and we touch him of the knees. And my neighbours carry on the knees all sorts of packets, umbrellas, canes, sacks of voyage, &c. _Il n'y a pas moyen_--he has not there mean. And the coacher says me "_Na, na, monne, yile no ghitt doun, yile djest baïd ouar yer sittinn._" Then he mounts to his place, and we part immediately. _Il va tomber de la pluie! Douze heures! Mon Dieu, quel voyage!_ Agree, &c., AUGUSTE. * * * * * [Illustration: ZEAL _Saxon Tourist._ "Been at the kirk?" _Celt._ "Aye." _Saxon T._ "How far is it?" _Celt._ "Daur say it'll be fourteen mile." _Saxon T._ "Fourteen miles!!" _Celt._ "Aye, aw'm awfu' fond o' the preachin'"] * * * * * [Illustration: THRIFT _Peebles Body (to townsman who was supposed to be in London on a visit)._ "E--eh Mac! ye're sune hame again!" _Mac._ "E--eh, it's just a ruinous place, that! Mun, a had na' been the-erre abune twa hoours when--_bang_--went _saxpence!!!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SATISFACTORY SOLUTION "I fear, Duncan, that friend of mine does not seem overly safe with his gun." "No, sir. But I'm thinkin' it'll be all right if you wass to go wan side o' him and Mr. John the ither. He canna shoot baith o' ye!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "VITA FUMUS" _Tonal._ "Whar'll ye hae been till, Tugal?" _Tugal._ "At ta McTavishes' funeral----" _Tonal._ "An' is ta Tavish deed?" _Tugal._ "Deed is he!!" _Tonal._ "Losh, mon! Fowk are aye deein' noo that never used to dee afore!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRECAUTIONS _Saxon Angler (to his keeper)._ "You seem in a great hurry with your clip! I haven't seen a sign of a fish yet--not a rise!" _Duncan._ "'Deed, sir, I wisna a botherin' mysel' aboot the fush; but seein' you wis new to the business, I had a thocht it widna be lang afore you were needin' a left oot o' the watter yoursel'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS POUND OF FLESH _Financier (tenant of our forest, after a week's unsuccessful stalking)._ "Now, look here, my man. I bought and paid for ten stags. If the brutes can't be shot, you'll have to trap them! I've promised the venison, and I mean to have it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCRUPULOUS _Shepherd._ "O, Jims, mun! Can ye no gie a whustle on tha ram'lin' brute o' mine? I daurna mysel'; it's just fast-day in oor parish!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE LAND OF LORN" _It has drizzled incessantly, for a fortnight, since the Smiths came down to their charming villa at Braebogie, in Argyleshire._ _Keeper (who has come up to say the boat is ready on the loch, if "they're for fushin' the day")._ "Eh! I should na wonder if this weather tur-rns ta rain!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOCAL SUNDAY MORNING _Tourist (staying at the Glenmulctem Hotel--dubiously)._ "Can I--ah--have a boat?" _Boatman._ "Oo--aye!" _Tourist._ "But I thought you--ah--never broke the--aw--Sabbath in Scotland?" _Boatman._ "Aweel, ye ken the Sawbath disna' come doon to the loch--it just staps at the hottle!"] * * * * * EN ÉCOSSE (ENCORE) _À Monsieur Punch_ DEAR MISTER,--I have spoken you of my departure from Calendar on the _breack_. Eh, well, he rained not of the whole of the whole--_du tout du tout! Il faisait un temps superbe_--he was making a superb time, the route was well agreeable, and the voyage lasted but two hours, and not twelve. What droll of idea! In Scottish _twa_ is two, not twelve. I was so content to arrive so quick, and without to be wetted that I gave the coacher a good to-drink--_un bon pourboire_--though before to start all the voyagers had paid him a "tipp", that which he called a "driver's fee." Again what droll of idea! To give the to-drink before to start, and each one the same--six pennys. My friend encountered me and conducted me to his house, where I have passed fifteen days, a sojourn of the most agreeables. And all the time almost not one sole drop of rain! _J'avais beau_--I had fine--to buy all my impermeable vestments, I carry them never. One sole umbrella suffices me, and I open him but two times. And yet one says that the Scotland is a rainy country. It is perhaps a season _tout à fait_--all to fact--exceptional. But fifteen days almost without rain! One would believe himself at the border of the Mediterranean, absolutely at the South. And I have eaten of the "porridg", me Auguste! _Partout_ I essay the dish of the country. I take at first a spoonful pure and simple. _Oh la, la!_ My friend offers me of the cream. It is well. Also of the salt. _Quelle idée!_ But no, before me I perceive a dish of _confiture_, that which the Scottish call "marmaladde." _A la bonne heure!_ With some marmaladde, some cream, and much of sugar, I find that the "porridg" is enough well, for I taste him no more. One day we make an ascension, and we see many grouses. Only we can not to shoot, for it is not yet the season of the huntings. It is but a hill that we mount. The name appears me to be french, but bad written. "Ben Venue", that is to say, "_Bienvenu_"--_soyez le bienvenu_. She is one of the first of the Scottish hills, and she says "welcome" in french. It is a pretty idea, and a politeness very amiable towards my country. I salute the hospitable Scotland and I thank her. It is a great country, of brave men, of charming women--ah, I recall to myself some eyes so beautiful, some forms so attracting!--of ravishing landscapes, and, at that epoch there, of a climate so delicious. She has one sole and one great defect. The best Scottish hotels cost very dear, and, my faith, the two or three that I visited are not great thing like comfortable--_ne sont pas grand'chose comme comfortable!_ One day we make a little excursion on the Lake of Lomond. The lake is well beautiful, and the steamboat is excellent. But in one certain hotel, in descending from a _breack_, and before to embark, we take the "lunch." We bargain not, we ask not even the price, we eat at the _table d'hôte_ like all the world in Swiss, in France, even in Germany, when there is but one half hour before the departure of the train or of the boat. _Oh la, la!_ I have eaten in the spanish hotels, on the steamboats of the italian lakes, even in the _restaurants--mon Dieu!_--of the english railways, but never, never--_au grand jamais_--have I eaten a _déjeuner_ like that! One dish I shall forget never; some exterior green leaves of lettuce, without oil or vinegar, which they called a "salad." _Parbleu_--by blue! In all the history of the world there has been but one man who would have could to eat her with pleasure--Nabuchodonosor! Agree, &c., AUGUSTE. * * * * * [Illustration: "CANNY" _Sister._ "Why, Charles, you've got raw whiskey here!" _Charles._ "Well, it's hardly worth while to bring water. We can always find that as we go along--when we want it."] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTIOUS _Visitor (at out-of-the-way inn in the North)._ "Do you know anything about salmon-poaching in this neighbourhood?" _Landlady (whose son is not above suspicion)._--"Eh--no, sir. Maybe it's a new style of cooking as we haven't heard of in these parts, as you see, sir, we only do our eggs that way; and"--(_brightening up_)--"if you like 'em, I can get you a dish at once!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DECIDED OPINION _Proprietor of shootings ("in the course of conversation")._ "Yes, but you know, Sandy, it's difficult to choose between the Scylla of a shy tenant, and the Charybdis of----" _Sandy (promptly)._ "Aweel! Gie me the siller, an' anybuddy that likes may hae the tither!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Chappie (after missing his fourth stag, explains)._ "Aw--fact is, the--aw--waving grass was in my way." _Old Stalker._ "Hoot, mon, wad he hae me bring out a scythe?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Our artist catches it again this winter in the Highlands.] * * * * * [Illustration: A FINE HEAD (BUT NOT OF THE RIGHT SORT OF CATTLE) Perkins has paid a mint of money for his shooting, and has had bad luck all the season. To-day, however, he gets a shot, only--it turns out to be at a cow!] * * * * * [Illustration: A "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDS _Ill-used husband_ (_under the bed_). "Aye! Ye may crack me, and ye may thrash me, but ye canna break my manly sperrit. I'll na come oot!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS He is at present on a boating excursion, and describes the motion as extremely pleasant, and has no dread of sea-sickness.] * * * * * [Illustration: "GAME" IN THE HIGHLANDS _Captain Jinks._ "Birds plentiful, I hope, Donald?" _Donald._ "Tousans, sir--in tousans." _Captain J._ "Any zebras?" _Donald_ (_anxious to please_). "Is't zebras? They're in tousans, too." _Captain J._ "And gorillas, no doubt?" _Donald._ "Well, noo an' then we see ane or twa--just like yerself."] * * * * * [Illustration: MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS Lavinia takes a siesta,] [Illustration: And the frightful situation she finds herself in at the end of it.] [Illustration: Lavinia arrives at a waterfall, and asks its name. The shepherd (not understanding English) informs her in Gaelic that it is called (as Lavinia supposes) "Vicharoobashallochoggilnabo." Lavinia thinks it a very pretty name.] [Illustration: A bright idea strikes the shepherd, and before Lavinia can remonstrate, he transports her, in the usual manner, to the other side.] [Illustration: MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES She comes suddenly on a strange structure--apparently a native fort, and is just going to sketch it, when a savage of gigantic stature, and armed to the teeth, starts from an ambush, and menaces her in Gaelic!] * * * * * TWENTY HOURS AFTER EUSTON, 8 P.M. I'm sick of this sweltering weather. Phew! ninety degrees in the shade! I long for the hills and the heather, I long for the kilt and the plaid; I long to escape from this hot land Where there isn't a mouthful of air, And fly to the breezes of Scotland-- It's never too stuffy up there. For weeks I have sat in pyjamas, And found even these were _de trop_, And envied the folk of Bahamas Who dress in a feather or so; But now there's an end to my grilling, My Inferno's a thing of the past; Hurrah! there's the whistle a-shrilling-- We are off to the Highlands at last! CALLANDER, 4 P.M. The dull leaden skies are all clouded In the gloom of a sad weeping day, The desolate mountains are shrouded In palls of funereal grey; 'Mid the skirl of the wild wintry weather The torrents descend in a sheet As we shiver all huddled together In the reek of the smouldering peat. A plague on the Highlands! to think of The heat that but lately we banned; Oh! what would we give for a blink of The bright sunny side of the Strand! To think there are folk that still revel In Summer, and fling themselves down, In the Park, or St. James? What the d---- Possessed us to hurry from town? * * * * * "OUT OF TUNE AND HARSH."--_First Elder_ (_at the Kirk "Skellin'"_). "Did ye hear Dougal? More snorin' in the sermon?" _Second Elder_, "Parefec'ly disgracefu'! He's waukened 's a'!" * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD IN THE HIGHLANDS _First Chieftain._ "I say, old chap, what a doose of a bore these games are!" _Second Chieftain._ "Ah, but, my dear boy, it is this sort of thing that has made us Scotchmen _what we are!!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SERMONS IN STONES" _Tourist_ (_of an inquiring and antiquarian turn_). "Now I suppose, farmer, that large cairn of stones has some history?" _Highland Farmer._ "Ooh, aye, that buig o' stanes has a gran' history whatever!" _Tourist_ (_eagerly_). "Indeed! I should like to----What is the legend----?" _Farmer._ "Just a gran' history!" (_Solemnly._) "It took a' ma cairts full and horses sax months to gather them aff he land and pit them ther-r-re!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: JETSAM AND FLOTSAM Smith being shut out from the Continent this year, takes a cottage ornée on Dee-Side. Scotland. The children are sent up first. The house is described as "conveniently furnished"--they find it so!] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE WILDS OF THE NORTH. _Hungry Saxon_ (_just arrived, with equally hungry family_). "Well, now--er--what can you give us for dinner, as soon as we've had a wash?" _Scotch Lassie._ "Oh, jist onything!" _H. S._ (_rubbing his hands in anticipation_). "Ah! Now we'll have a nice juicy steak." _Lassie._ "A--weel. We'll be haein' some steak here maybe by the boat i' the morn's morn!" _H. S._ (_a little crestfallen_). "Oh--well--chops then. We'll say mutton chops." _Lassie._ "Oh, ay, but we've no been killin' a sheep the day!" [_Ends up with boiled eggs, and vows to remain at home for the future._ ] * * * * * THE DUKE OF ATHOLL'S SHILLING (1851) The _North British Mail_ assures us that the Duke of Atholl exacts one shilling a head from every person taking a walk in his ground at Dunkeld. This is rather dear; but the impost would be insupportable if his Grace insisted upon also showing himself for the money. A HIGHLAND CORONACH _Or Lament over the Acts and State of the Duke of Atholl._ After Scott. He has shut up the mountain, He has locked up the forest, He has bunged up the fountain, When our need was the sorest; The traveller stirring To the North, may dogs borrow; But the Duke gives no hearing, No pass--but to sorrow. The hand of the tourist Grasps the carpet-bag grimly, But a face of the dourest Frowns through the Glen dimly. The autumn winds, rushing, Stir a kilt of the queerest, Duke and gillies come crushing Where pleasure is nearest! Queer foot on the corrie, Oddly loving to cumber-- Give up this odd foray, Awake from your slumber! Take your ban from the mountain, Take your lock from the river, Take your bolt from the fountain, Now at once, and for ever! * * * * * [Illustration: The sad fate of our only ham.--The pursuit.] * * * * * [Illustration: A RARA MONGRELLIS _Tourist._ "Your dog appears to be deaf, as he pays no attention to me." _Shepherd._ "Na, na, sir. She's a varra wise dog, for all tat. But she only speaks Gaelic."] * * * * * [Illustration: "IN FOR IT" _Innocent Tourist._ "No fish to be caught in Loch Fine now? And how do you support yourself?" _Native._ "Whiles she carries parcels, and whiles she raws people in ta poat, and whiles a shentleman 'ull give her a saxpence or a shillin'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BLANK DAY _The Keeper_ (_to Brown, who rents the forest_). "Doon wi' ye! Doon wi' ye! Get ahint a stang!" _Brown_ (_out of temper--he had been "stalking" about all the morning, and missed several times_). "Yes, it's all very well to say 'Get behind a stone.' But show me one!--show me one!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Punch passes a night at McGillie Cullum Castle.] [Illustration: The Laird, as a delicate compliment, serenades him.] * * * * * [Illustration: A BAD SEASON _Sportsman._ "I can assure you, what with the rent of the moor, and my expenses, and 'what not,' the birds have cost me--ah--a sovereign apiece!!" _Keeper._ "A' weel, sir! 'Deed it's a maircy ye didna kill na mair o' 'em!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CANDID _Sportsman._ "Boy, you've been at this whiskey!" _Boy_ (_who has brought the luncheon-basket_). "Na! The cooark wadna come oot!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "UNCO CANNY" _Noble Sportsman._ "Missed, eh?" _Cautious Keeper._ "Weel, a' wadna gang quite sae faur as to say that; but a' doot ye hay'na _exactly_ hit."] * * * * * THE SONG OF THE SCOTCH TOURIST Those Scotch hotels! Those Scotch hotels Are fit for princes and for swells; But their high charges don't agree With humbler travellers like me. Twelve shillings daily for my board Is more than I can well afford, For this includes nor ale nor wine, Whereof I drink some when I dine. Bad sherry's charged at eight-and-six, A price that in my gizzard sticks: And if I want a pint of port, A crown is what I'm pilfer'd for 't. For service, too, I have to pay, Two shillings, as a rule, per day: Yet always, when I leave the door, The boots and waiter beg for more. So, till a fortune I can spend, Abroad my autumn steps I'll bend; Far cheaper there, experience tells, Is living than at Scotch hotels! * * * * * [Illustration: A VERY DIFFERENT MATTER _Southern Lord_ (_staying at Highland castle_). "Thank you so much. I--ah--weally enjoy your music. I think of having a piper at my own place." _Sandy the piper._ "An' fat kin' o' a piper would your lordship be needin'?" _Southern Lord._ "Oh, certainly a good piper like yourself, Sandy." _Sandy_ (_sniffing_). "Och! Inteet!--Ye might easily fin' a lord like your lordship, but it's nae sae easy to fin' a piper like me whatever!"] * * * * * [Illustration] THE END BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
39160	----	MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: DISILLUSIONED Awful predicament of young Fitz-Brown, who, having undertaken to see a young lady safely home after a day with the Seaborough Harriers, has lost his way, and has climbed up what he takes to be a sign-post.] * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD AS PICTURED BY JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY, RANDOLPH CALDECOTT, L. RAVEN-HILL, G. D. ARMOUR, G. H. JALLAND, ARTHUR HOPKINS, REGINALD CLEAVER, CECIL ALDIN, TOM BROWNE, W. L. HODGSON AND OTHERS. [Illustration] _WITH 173 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN * * * * * EDITOR'S NOTE [Illustration] From his earliest days MR. PUNCH has been an enthusiast for the Hunting Field. But in this he has only been the faithful recorder of the manners of his countrymen, as there is no sport more redolent of "Merrie England" than that of the Horse and Hound. At no time in MR. PUNCH'S history has he been without an artist who has specialised in the humours of the hunt. First it was the inimitable Leech, some of whose drawings find a place in the present collection, and then the mantle of the sporting artist would seem to have descended to feminine shoulders, as Miss Bowers (Mrs. Bowers-Edwards) wore it for some ten years after 1866. That lady is also represented in the present work, at pages 49 and 111. Later came Mr. G. H. Jalland, many of whose drawings we have chosen for inclusion here. Perhaps the most popular of his hunting jokes was that of the Frenchman exclaiming, "Stop ze chasse! I tomble, I faloff! _Stop ze fox!!!_" (see page 141). To-day, of course, it is Mr. G. D. Armour whose pencil is devoted chiefly to illustrating the humorous side of hunting; but now, as formerly, most of the eminent artists whose work lies usually in other fields, delight at times to find a subject associated with the hunt. Thus we are able to present examples of Mr. Cecil Aldin and Mr. Raven-Hill in sportive mood, while such celebrities of the past as Randolph Caldecott and Phil May are here drawn upon for the enriching of this, the first book of hunting humour compiled from the abundant chronicles of MR. PUNCH. * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY OUT WITH THE 'OUNDS] * * * * * MR. PUNCH IN THE HUNTING FIELD THE HUNTING SEASON (_By Jorrocks Junior_) The season for hunting I see has begun, So adieu for a time to my rod and my gun; And ho! for the fox, be he wild or in bag, As I follow the chase on my high-mettled nag. * * * * * [Illustration: "WEATHER PERMITTING,"--MR. PUNCH DRIVES TO THE FIRST MEET.] * * * * * I call him high-mettled, but still I must state, He hasn't a habit I always did hate, He doesn't walk sideways, like some "gees" you meet, Who go slantindicularly down the street. He's steady and well broken in, for, of course, I can't risk my life on an unbroken horse; You might tie a torpedo or two on behind, And though they exploded that horse wouldn't mind. My strong point is costume, and oft I confess I've admired my get-up in a sportsmanlike dress; Though, but for the finish their lustre confers, I would much rather be, I declare, without spurs. They look very well as to cover you ride, But I can't keep the things from the animal's side; And the mildest of "gees," I am telling no fibs, Will resent having liberties ta'en with his ribs. Then hie to the cover, the dogs are all there, And the horn of the hunter is heard on the air; I've a horn of my own, which in secret I stow, For, oddly enough, they don't like me to blow. We'll go round by that gate, my good sir, if you please, I'm one of your sportsmen who rides at his ease; And I don't care to trouble my courser to jump, For whenever he does I fall off in a lump. Then haste to the meet! The Old Berkeley shall find, If I don't go precisely as fast as the wind, If they'll give my Bucephalus time to take breath, We shall both of us, sometimes, be in at the death! * * * * * [Illustration: A LION IN THE PATH? Oh dear no! Merely the "_first open day_" after a long frost, and a tom-tit has been inconsiderate enough to fly suddenly out of the fence on the way to covert!] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _Unsympathetic Bystander._ "Taking 'im back to 'is cab, guv'nor?"] * * * * * [Illustration: HOW THE LAST RUN OF THE WOPSHIRE HOUNDS WAS SPOILT.] * * * * * PROVERBS FOR THE TIMID HUNTSMAN _Dressing_ There's no toe without a corn. If the boot pinches--bear it. _Breakfast_ A snack in time, saves nine. Faint hunger never conquered tough beef-steak. _Mounting_ You can't make a hunter out of a hired hack. The nearer the ground the safer the seat. _In the Field_ Take care of the hounds, but the fence may take care of itself. Too many brooks spoil the sport. One pair of spurs may bring a horse to the water, but twenty will not make him jump. It is the howl that shows the funk. Fools break rails for wise men to go over. Snobs and their saddles are soon parted. _At Luncheon_ A flask in the hand is worth a cask in the vault. Cut your sandwiches according to your stomach. _Coming Home_ The nearer the home, the harder the seat. _Bed-time_ It's a heavy sleep that has no turning. * * * * * [Illustration: REALLY PLEASANT! Six miles from home, horse dead lame, awfully tender feet, and horribly tight boots.] * * * * * [Illustration: "Now, if I jump it, I shall certainly fall off; and if I dismount to open it, I shall never get on again."] * * * * * [Illustration: This is Jones, who thought to slip down by the rail early in the morning, and have a gallop with the fox hounds. On looking out of the window, he finds it is a clear frosty morning. He sees a small boy sliding--actually sliding on the pavement opposite!! and--doesn't he hate that boy--and doesn't he say it is a beastly climate!!] * * * * * [Illustration: NEW SPORTING DICTIONARY OF FAMILIAR LATIN PHRASES. (1) Labour omnia vincit. (Labor overcomes everything.)] [Illustration: (2) Ars est celare artem. "Après vous, mademoiselle!"] [Illustration: (3) Exeunt Omnes. (They all go off.)] * * * * * A GENUINE SPORTSWOMAN _Mrs. Shodditon_ (_to Captain Forrard, on a cub-hunting morning_). "I do hope you'll have good sport, and find plenty of foxes." _Captain Forrard._ "Hope so. By the way, how is that beautiful collie of yours that I admired so much?" _Mrs. Shodditon._ "Oh! Fanny! poor dear! Our keeper shot it by mistake for a fox!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Short-sighted Party_ (_thrown earlier, after weary tramp, thinks he sees mount on ploughed upland, and approaches bush coaxingly_). "Whoa, my beauty! Steady, my gal, steady then," &c.] [Illustration: _Same Short-sighted Party arrived at thornbush, discovers error, and reflects_--"Five miles from station, perhaps ten--fifty miles from town, missed express, missed dinner, lost mount, wet through, getting dusk, and, by the way, where am I?" [_Left reflecting_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gorgeous Stranger._ "I say, Huntsman, would you mind blowing your horn two or three times? I want my fellow, who has my flask, to know where we are, don't you know!"] * * * * * DIARY OF THE MODERN HUNT SECRETARY "Capping all non-subscribers is pretty generally resorted to, this season, not only in the shires, but also with provincial packs."--_Daily Press._] _Monday._--Splendid gallop after non-subscriber. Spotted the quarry on good-looking chestnut, whilst we were drawing big covert. Edged my horse over in his direction, but non-subscriber very wary--think he must have known my face as "collector of tolls." Retired again to far side of spinney and disguised myself in pair of false whiskers, which I always keep for these occasions. Craftily sidled up, and finally got within speaking distance, under cover of the whiskers, which effectually masked my battery. "Beg pardon, sir," I began, lifting my hat, "but I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing your name as a subscri----" But he was off like a shot. Went away over a nice line of country, all grass, and a good sound take-off to most of the fences. Non-subscriber had got away with about a three lengths lead of me, and that interval was fairly maintained for the first mile and a half of the race. Then, felt most annoyed to see that my quarry somewhat gained on me as we left the pasture land and went across a holding piece of plough. Over a stiff post and rails, and on again, across some light fallow, towards a big dry ditch. The hunted one put his horse resolutely at it--must say he rode very straight, but what _won't_ men do to avoid "parting?"--horse jumped short and disappeared from view together with his rider. Next moment I had also come a cropper at ditch, and rolled down on top of my prey. "Excuse me," I said, taking out my pocket-book and struggling to my knees in six inches of mud, "but when you rather abruptly started away from covertside, I was just about to remark that I did not think you were a subscriber, and that I should have much pleasure in taking the customary 'cap'--thank you." And he paid up quite meekly. We agreed, as we rode back together, in the direction in which we imagined hounds to be, that even if they had got away with a good fox, the field would not be likely to have had so smart a gallop as he and I had already enjoyed. Lost my day's hunting, of course. _Thursday._--Got away after another non-subscriber, led him over four fields, after which he ran me out of sight. Lost my day's hunting again, but was highly commended by M.F.H. for my zeal. _Saturday._--M.F.H. pointed out five non-subscribers, and I at once started off to "cap" them. Lost another day with hounds--shall send in my resignation. * * * * * [Illustration: _Gent_ (_who has just executed a double somersault and is somewhat dazed_). "Now where the dickens has that horse gone to?"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON EXMOOR _Gent_ (_very excited after his first gallop with staghounds_). "Hi, mister, don't let the dogs maul 'im, and I'll take the 'aunch at a bob a pound!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COOKED ACCOUNTS _Extract from old Fitzbadly's letter to a friend, describing a run in the Midlands:_--"I was well forward at the brook, but lost my hat, and had to dismount."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Hup--yer beast!"] [Illustration: "Hup!!--yer brute!"] [Illustration: "Hup!!!--yer infernal, confounded ---- Hover!!!"] [Illustration: And "Hover" it was!] * * * * * [Illustration: SOMETHING LIKE A NOSE. _Whip_ (_after galloping half a mile to a holloa_). "Where did you see him?" _Yokel._ "Can't zay as 'ow I 'zactly _zeed_ 'un, but I think I _smelled_ 'un!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Second Horseman No. 1._ "Ulloah, Danny, what are you lookin' for?" _Second Horseman No. 2._ "Perkisites. Guv'nor's just been over 'ere. 'E jumps so much 'igher than 'is 'orse, there's always some small change or summat to be picked up!"] * * * * * THE NEW NIMROD [Mr. Pat O'Brien, M.P., was first in at the death on one occasion with the Meath Hounds on his bicycle, and was presented with the brush.] Air--"_The Hunting Day_" "What a fine hunting day"-- 'Tis an old-fashioned lay That I'll change to an up-to-date pome; Old stagers may swear That the pace isn't fair, But they're left far behind us at home! See cyclists and bikes on their way, And scorchers their prowess display; Let us join the glad throng That goes wheeling along, And we'll all go a-hunting to-day! New Nimrods exclaim, "Timber-topping" is tame, And "bull-finches" simply child's play; And they don't care a jot For a gallop or trot, Though they _will_ go a-hunting to-day. There's a fox made of clockwork, they say They'll wind him and get him away; He runs with a rush On rails with his brush, So we must go and chase him to-day. We've abolished the sounds Of the horn and the hounds-- 'Tis the bicycle squeaker that squeals And the pack has been stuffed, Or sent to old Cruft, Now the huntsmen have taken to wheels! Hairy country no more we essay, Five bars, too, no longer dismay, For we stick to the roads In the latest of modes, So we'll bike after Reynard to-day! * * * * * [Illustration: THE LANGUAGE OF SPORT. "Where the----! What the----!! Who the----!!! Why the----!!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COMFORTING, VERY! _Sportsman (who has mounted friend on bolting mare) shouts._ "You're all right, old chap! She's never been known to refuse water, and swims like a fish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Stubbles_ (_having pounded the swells_). "Aw--haw----! laugh away, but who be the roight side o' the fence, masters?"] * * * * * [Illustration: CUB HUNTING 1. "Ah, my boys," said Percy Johnson, "give me a good old hurry and scurry--Heigh O! gee whoa!--over the downs and through the brushwood after the cubs. So, early in the morning as you like. What can be more exhilarating?" 2. So, in happy anticipation of the morrow's meet, he retired.] [Illustration: 3. Later, at 4 a.m., the butler came to rouse him. "Sir!" A pause. "Sir, th' 'osses be very nigh ready!" Uncertain voice from within--"Eh? good-night! Remember to call me early in the morning!" 4. Snoring resumed _in infinitum_. Still, Percy looked rather sheepish later on, when the others pretended they had missed him on the road, and inquired whether he had found the morning as exhilarating as he had expected.] * * * * * MY LITTLE BROWN MARE (_A Song for the commencement of the Hunting Season_) She's rather too lean but her head's a large size, And she hasn't the average number of eyes; Her hind legs are not what you'd call a good pair, And she's broken both knees, has my little brown mare. You can find some amusement in counting each rib, And she bites when she's hungry like mad at her crib; When viewed from behind she seems all on the square, She's quite a Freemason--my little brown mare. Her paces are rather too fast, I suppose, For she often comes down on her fine Roman nose, And the way she takes fences makes hunting men stare, For she backs through the gaps does my little brown mare. She has curbs on her hocks and no hair on her knees; She has splints and has spavins wherever you please? Her neck, like a vulture's, is horribly bare, But still she's a beauty, my little brown mare. She owns an aversion to windmills and ricks, When passing a waggon she lies down and kicks; And the clothes of her groom she'll persistently tear-- But still she's no vice has my little brown mare. When turned down to grass she oft strays out of bounds; She always was famous for snapping at hounds; And even the baby has learnt to beware The too playful bite of my little brown mare. She prances like mad and she jumps like a flea, And her waltz to a brass band is something to see: No circus had ever a horse, I declare, That could go through the hoops like my little brown mare. I mount her but seldom--in fact, to be plain, Like the Frenchman, when hunting I "do not remain:" Since I've only one neck it would hardly be fair To risk it in riding my little brown mare! * * * * * [Illustration: TROUBLES OF A WOULD-BE SPORTSMAN _Huntsman_ (_to W.B.S._). "Just 'op across, would ye, sir, and turn those 'ounds to me, please."] * * * * * [Illustration: RESPICE FINEM _Excited Shepherd_ (_to careful Sportsman, inspecting fence with slight drop_). "Come on, sir! All right! Anywhere 'ere!" _Careful Sportsman._ "All very fine! You want to give me a fall, and get half-a-crown for catching my horse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WEEDS"] * * * * * [Illustration: "'WARE WIRE!" "Hallo, Jack! What's up?" "Don' know! I'm not!"] * * * * * MISPLACED ENERGY _Huntsman_ (_seeking a beaten fox_). "Now then, have you seen anything of him?" _Cockney Sportsman_ (_immensely pleased with himself_). "Well, rather! Why, I've just driven him into this drain for you!" * * * * * [Illustration: "WHILE YOU WAIT" "Here, my good man, just pull those rails down. Be as quick as you can!" "Take 'em down, miss! It'll be a good four hours' job, for I've been all the mornin' a-puttin' of 'em up!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ECHOES OF THE CHASE. BOXING DAY _Holiday Sportsman_ (_to Whip, who has been hollering_). "Where's the fox?" _Whip._ "Gone away, of course." _H. S._ "Gone away! Wotcher makin' all that noise for, then? I thought you'd caught 'im!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EASILY SATISFIED _Gent_ (_who all but dissolved partnership at the last fence_). "Thank goodness I've got hold of the reins again! If I could but get my foot into that confounded stirrup, I should be all right!"] * * * * * A Nice Prospect _Host_ (_to Perks, an indifferent horseman, who has come down for the hunting_). "Now, look here, Perks, old chap, as you're a light weight, I'll get you to ride this young mare of mine. You see, I want to get her qualified for our Hunt Cup, and she's not up to my weight, or I'd ride her myself. Perhaps I'd better tell you she hasn't been ridden to hounds before, so she's sure to be a bit nervous at first; and mind you steady her at the jumps, as she's apt to rush them; and I wouldn't take her too near other people, as she has a nasty temper, and knows how to use her heels; and, whatever you do, don't let her get you down, or she'll tear you to pieces. The last man that rode her is in hospital now. But keep your eye on her, and remember what I've said, and you'll be all right!" [_Consternation of Perks_ * * * * * 'ARRY ON 'ORSEBACK Our 'Arry goes 'unting and sings with a will, "The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill:" And oft, when a saddle looks terribly bare, The 'eels of our 'Arry are seen in the air! * * * * * [Illustration: 'W. STANDS FOR WIRE' "Hulloah, Jarge! Been puttin' up some wire to keep the fox-hunter away?" "Noa, I b'ain't put up no wire; but the 'unt they sends me a lot o' them boards with 'W' on um, so I just stuck 'em up all round the land, and they never comes nigh o' me now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE HUNTING SEASON _Rector._ "Is that the parcels post, James? He's early this morning, isn't he?" (_Noise without, baying of dogs, &c._) "What's all this----" _James_ (_excited_). "Yes, sir. Postman says as how the young 'ounds, a comin' back from cubbin', found 'im near the kennels, and runned 'im all the way 'ere. They was close on 'im when he got in! Thinks it was a packet o' red 'errins in the bag, sir! I see the run from the pantry window"--(_with enthusiasm_)--"a beautiful ten minutes' bu'st, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Duck, you fool! Duck!"] * * * * * HUNTING "DAY BY DAY" "The Mudsquashington Foxhounds had a good day's sport from Wotsisname Coverts (which were laid for a large number). They found in Thingamy Woods, rattled him round the Osier Beds, and then through the Gorse, just above Sumware. Leaving this and turning left-handed, he ran on as far as Sumotherplace, where he finally got to ground. Amongst the numerous field were Lord Foozle and Lady Frump, Messrs. Borkins, Poshbury, and Tomkyn-Smith."[A] [Footnote A: Half a dozen similar paragraphs cut out as being too exciting for the average reader's brain to bear.--ED.] * * * * * AT MELTON _First Sportsman._ "That crock of yours seems to be a bit of a songster." _Second Sportsman._ "Yes, he has always been like that since I lent him to a well-known English tenor." _First Sportsman_ (_drily_). "You should have taken him in exchange." * * * * * [Illustration: A NICE BEGINNING. The above is not a French bull-fight, but merely the unpleasant adventure Mr. Jopling experienced on our opening day, when a skittish Alderney crossed him at the first fence.] * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY ON 'ORSEBACK _'Arry_ (_in extremities_). "Well, gi' _me_ a _bike_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONVENIENCE OF A LIGHT-WEIGHT GROOM _Miss Ethel._ "Now, sit tight this time, Charles. How could you be so stupid as to let him go?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Voice from the ditch._ "Don't jump here!" _Irish Huntsman._ "And what would ye be after down there? Wather-cresses?"] * * * * * RATHER "Is fox-hunting dangerous?" asks one of our daily papers. A fox informs us that it has its risks. * * * * * [Illustration: _Rough Rider_ (_to old Creeper, who will not let his horse jump_). "Now then, gov'nor, if you are quite sure you can't get under it, perhaps you'll let me 'ave a turn!"] * * * * * PROOF POSITIVE _Podson_ (_lately returned from abroad_). "Well, I hear you've been having a capital season, Thruster." _Thruster._ "Oh, rippin'! Why, I've had both collar-bones broken, left wrist sprained, and haven't got a sound horse left in my string!" * * * * * [Illustration: INEXPRESSIBLE _Master Jack_ (_son of M.F.H., much upset by hard weather_). "Go skating with you! Not if I know it. May be all very well for you women and those curate chaps--but we hunting men, by George!!!"] * * * * * BY THE COVERT SIDE _Fred_ (_a notorious funk_). "Bai Jove! Jack, I'm afraid I've lost my nerve this season!" _Jack._ "Have you? Doosid sorry for the poor beggar who finds it!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Elderly Sportsman._ "I wonder they don't have that place stopped. Why, I remember running a fox to ground there twenty years ago! Don't you?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THEORY AND PRACTICE; OR, WHY THE ENGAGEMENT WAS BROKEN OFF _Lady Di_ (_to Jack, whose vows of devotion have been interrupted by a fox being hollered away_). "Oh, Jack, my hair's coming down! Do stop and hold my horse. I won't be five minutes."] * * * * * [Illustration: AWFUL RESULT OF THE WAR! _A Dream of Mr. Punch's Sporting Correspondent_ ["Mr. Arthur Wilson, Master of the Holderness Hunt, has received an intimation from the War Office that, in consequence of the war with the Transvaal, ten of his horses will be required."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: "NO FOLLOWERS ALLOWED"] * * * * * [Illustration: ROBBERY WITH VIOLENCE _Lady_ (_who has just jumped on fallen Sportsman_). "I'm awfully sorry! I hope we didn't hurt you?" _Fallen Sportsman._ "Oh, I'm all right, thanks. But--er--do you mind leaving me my hat?"] * * * * * IN THE MIDLANDS _Belated Hunting Man_ (_to Native_). "Can you kindly point out the way to the Fox and Cock Inn?" _Native._ "D'ye mean the Barber's Arms?" _B. H. M._ "No, the Fox and Cock!" _Native._ "Well, that's what we call the Barber's Arms." _B. H. M._ "Why so?" _Native_ (_with a hoarse laugh_). "Well, ain't the Fox and Cock the same as the Brush and Comb?" [_Vanishes into the gloaming, leaving the B. H. M. muttering those words which are not associated with benediction, while he wearily passes on his way._ * * * * * APPROPRIATE TO THE WINTER SEASON For sportsmen, the old song long ago popular, entitled "_There's a Good Time Coming, Boys_," if sung by a M.F.H. with a bad cold, as thus: "_There's a Good Tibe Cubbing, Boys!_" * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Briggs's hunting cap comes home, but that is really a thing Mrs. Briggs _can_ not, and _will_ not put up with!] * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Briggs goes out with the Brighton Harriers. He has a capital day. The only drawback is, that he is obliged to lead his horse _up_ hill to ease him--] * * * [Illustration: and _down_ hill because he is afraid of going over his head--so that he doesn't get quite so much horse exercise as he could wish!] * * * * * AT THE HUNT BALL (_The Sad Complaint of a Man in Black_) O MOLLY, dear, my head, I fear, is going round and round, Your cousin isn't in the hunt, when hunting men abound; A waltz for me no more you'll keep, the girls appear to think There's a law been made in favour of the wearing of the pink. Sure I met you in the passage, and I took you by the hand, And says I, "How many dances, Molly, darlint, will ye stand?" But your card was full, you said it with a most owdacious wink, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! You'd a waltz for Charlie Thruster, but you'd divil a one for me, Though he dances like a steam-engine, as all the world may see; 'Tis an illigant divarsion to observe the crowd divide, As he plunges down the ball-room, taking couples in his stride. 'Tis a cropper you'll be coming, but you know your business best, Still, it's bad to see you romping round with Charlie and the rest; Now you're dancing with Lord Arthur--sure, he's had enough to dhrink-- And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! Your cruelty ashamed you'll be someday to call to mind, You'll be glad to ask my pardon, then, for being so unkind, The hunting men are first, to-night--well, let them have their whack-- You'll be glad to dance with me, someday--when all the coats are black! But, since pink's the only colour now that fills your pretty head, Bedad, I'll have some supper, and then vanish home to bed. 'Tis the most distressful ball-room I was ever in, I think, And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink! * * * * * [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY WITH THE HOUNDS Mr. Briggs can't bear flying leaps, so he makes for a gap--which is immediately filled by a frantic Protectionist, who is vowing that he will pitchfork Mr. B. if he comes "galloperravering" over his fences--danged if he doant!] * * * * * [Illustration: A DOUBTFUL INFORMANT _Miss Connie_ (_to Gent in brook_). "Could you tell me if there is a bridge anywhere handy?"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT TO BE BEATEN _Cissy._ "Why should they call the hare's tail the scut?" _Bobby_ (_with a reputation as an authority to keep up_). "Oh--er--why you see--oh, of course, because the hare scuttles, you know, when she is hunted."] * * * * * WHY HE WAITED "What's the matter with Jack's new horse? He won't start." "Don't know; but they say he's been in an omnibus. Perhaps he's waiting for the bell!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE PLEASURES OF HUNTING To get a toss in a snowdrift, and, while lying half-smothered, to be sworn at for not shouting to warn the man following you.] * * * * * SO CONSOLING _Lady_ (_whose mare has just kicked a member of the Hunt, who was following too closely_). "Oh, I'm so sorry! I do hope it didn't hurt you! She's such a gentle thing, and could only have done it in the merest play, you know." * * * * * [Illustration: POSITIVELY OSTENTATIOUS _Mr. Phunkstick_ (_quite put out_). "Talk about agricultural depression, indeed! Don't believe in it! Never saw fences kept in such disgustingly good order in my life!"] * * * * * IRISH HUNTING TIPPLE _Englishman_ (_having partaken of his friend's flask, feels as if he had swallowed melted lead_). "Terribly strong! Pure whiskey, is it not?" _Irishman._ "Faith! not at all! It's greatly diluted with gin!" * * * * * [Illustration: IN A SHOOTING COUNTRY _Railway Porter_ (_who has been helping lady to mount_). "I hope you'll 'ave a good day, ma'am." _Lady Diana._ "I just hope we'll find a fox." _Porter_ (_innocently_). "Oh, that's all right, ma'am. The fox came down by the last train!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INSULT TO INJURY _Fitz-Noodle's Harriers, after a capital run, have killed--a fox!_ _Incensed local M.F.H._ "Confound it, sir, you have killed one of my foxes!" _F. N._ "It's all right, old chap! You may kill one of my hares!"] * * * * * HUNTING SONG (_To be sung when the Hounds meet at Colney Hatch or Hanwell_) Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara! The moon is up, the moon is up, The larks begin to fly, And like a scarlet buttercup Aurora gilds the sky. Then let us all a-hunting go, Come, sound the gay French horn, And chase the spiders to and fro, Amid the standing corn. Tantivy! Anchovy! Tantara! * * * * * UNCOMMONLY KEEN "Why, where's the horse, Miss Kitty? By Jove, you're wet through! What has happened?" "Oh, the stupid utterly refused to take that brook, so I left him and swam it. I couldn't miss the end of this beautiful thing!" * * * * * [Illustration: IN A BLIND DITCH _Sportsman_ (_to friend, whom he has mounted on a raw four-year-old for "a quiet morning's outing"_). "Bravo, Jack! Well done! That's just what the clumsy beggar wanted. Teach him to look where he's going!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DRY HUMOUR "Be'n't ye comin' over for 'im, mister?"] * * * * * [Illustration: WIREPROOF Sir Harry Hardman, mounted on "Behemoth," created rather a stir at the meet. He said he didn't care a hang for the barbed or any other kind of wire.] * * * * * [Illustration: A SKETCH FROM THE MIDLANDS "Hulloa, old chap! Not hurt, I hope?" "Oh, no, no! Just got off to have a look at the view."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Whip._ "Here, here! Hold hard! Come back!" _Tommy_ (_home for the holidays_). "No jolly fear! You want to get first start!"] * * * * * "BUSINESS FIRST" _Favourite Son of M.F.H._ (_to old huntsman_). "No, Smith, you won't see much more of me for the rest of the season; if at all." _Smith_ (_with some concern_). "Indeed, sir! 'Ow's that?" _Son of M.F.H._ "Well, you see, I'm reading hard." _Smith_ (_interrogatively_). "Readin' 'ard, sir?" _Son of M.F.H._ "Yes, I'm reading Law." _Smith._ "Well, I likes to read a bit o' them perlice reports myself, sir, now an' then; but I don't allow 'em to hinterfere with a honest day's 'untin'." * * * * * AN OMISSION BEST OMITTED _Brown_ (_on foot_). "Do you know what the total is for the season?" _Simkins_ (_somewhat new to country life_). "Fifteen pairs of foxes, the huntsman says. But he seems to have kept no count of rabbits or 'ares, and I know they've killed and eaten a lot of those!" * * * * * [Illustration: PUTTING IT NICELY _Young Lady_ (_politely, to old Gentleman who is fiddling with gap_). "I don't wish to hurry you, sir, but when you have quite finished your game of spilikins I should like to come!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TERPSICHOREAN _Sportsman_ (_to Dancing Man, who has accepted a mount_). "Hold on tight, sir, and she'll _waltz_ over with you."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Benevolent Stranger._ "Allow me, sir, to offer you a drink!" _Unfortunate Sportsman_ (_just out of brook_). "Thanks; but I've had a drop too much already!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MAGIC WORD _Huntsman_ (_having run a fox to ground, to yokel_). "Run away down and get some o' your fellows to come up with spades, will ye? Tell 'em we're after hidden treasure!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CAPITAL DODGE Among his native banks Old Poddles takes a lot of beating. He says there's nothing easier when you know how to negotiate 'em.] * * * * * HUNTING EXTRAORDINARY Jobson, who edits a cheerful little weekly, said to me the other day: "You hunt, don't you?" I looked at him knowingly. Jobson interpreted my smile according to his preconceived idea. "I thought so," he continued. "Well, you might do me a bright little article--about half a column, you know--on hunting, will you?" Why should I hesitate? Jobson is safe for cash; and he had not asked me to give my own experiences of the hunting field. I replied warily, "I fancy I know the sort of thing you want." "Good," he said, and before we could arrive at any detailed explanation he had banged the door and dashed downstairs, jumped into his hansom and was off. This was the article:- THOUGHTS ON HUNTING. It is hardly possible to overrate the value of hunting as a National sport. Steeplechasing is a Grand-National sport, but it is the sport of the rich, whereas hunting is not. By judiciously dodging the Hunt Secretary, you can, in fact, hunt for nothing. Of course, people will come at me open-mouthed for this assertion, and say, "How about the keep of your horses?" To which I reply, "If you keep a carriage, hunt the carriage horse; if you don't, borrow a friend's horse for a long ride in the country, and accidentally meet the hounds." To proceed. This has been a season of poor scent. Of course, the horses of the present day have deteriorated as line hunters: they possess not the keen sense of smell which their grandsires had. But despite this the sport goes gaily on. There are plenty of foxes--but we cannot agree with the popular idea of feeding them on poultry. And yet, in every hunt, we see hunters subscribing to poultry funds. This is not as it should be: Spott's meat biscuit would be much better for foxes' food. But these be details: let us hie forrard and listen to the cheery voice of sly Reynard as he is winded from his earth. The huntsman blows his horn, and soon the welkin rings with a chorus of brass instruments; the tufters dash into covert, and anon the cheerful note of _Ponto_ or _Gripper_ gives warning that a warrantable fox is on foot--well, of course, he couldn't be on horseback, but this is merely a venatorial _façon de parler_. Away go the huntsmen, showing marvellous dexterity in cracking their whips and blowing their horns at the same moment. Last of all come the hounds, trailing after their masters--ah, good dogs, you cannot hope to keep up very far with the swifter-footed horses! Nevertheless, they strain at their leashes and struggle for a better place at the horses' heels. "Hike forrard! tally ho! whoo-hoop!" They swoop over the fields like a charge of cavalry. But after several hours' hard running a check is at hand: the fox falters, then struggles on again, its tail waving over its head. As its pursuers approach, it rushes up a tree to sit on the topmost branch and crack nuts. The panting horses arrive--some with their riders still in the saddle, though many, alas! have fallen by the wayside. Next come the hounds, at a long interval--poor _Fido_, poor _Vic_, poor _Snap_! you have done your best to keep up, but the horses have out-distanced you! The whipper-in immediately climbs the tree in which the little red-brown animal still peacefully cracks its nuts, its pretty tail curled well over its head. Its would-be captor carries a revolving wire cage, and, by sleight-of-hand movement, manages to get the quarry securely into it. Then he descends, places the cage in a cart and it is driven home. The "mort" is sounded by four green velvet-coated huntsmen, with horns wound round their bodies; a beautiful brush presented to the lady who was first up at the "take"; and then the field slowly disperse. Tally Ho-Yoicks! all is over for the day. * * * * * [Illustration: MANNERS IN THE FIELD Always be prepared to give the lead to a lady, even at some little personal inconvenience.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PLEASURES OF HUNTING Having been cannoned and nearly brought down, to be asked if you are trying the American seat.] * * * * * [Illustration: HUNTING SKETCH The Cast Shoe, or Late for the Meat.] * * * * * [Illustration: A KINDLY VIEW OF IT _First Rustic_ (_to Second Ditto_). "Oh, I say! Ain't he fond of his horse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _M.F.H._ "Hold hard! Hold hard, please!! Where _are_ you going with that brute?" _Diana_ (_plaintively_). "I wish I knew!"] * * * * * THE LAST DAY OF HUNTING (_Stanzas for the First of April_) Right day to bid a long farewell To the field's gladsome glee; To hang the crop upon its peg, The saddle on its tree. All Fools' the day, all Fools' the deed, That hunting's end doth bring-- With all those stinking violets, And humbug of the Spring! Good-bye to pig-skin and to pink, Good-bye to hound and horse! The whimpering music sudden heard From cover-copse and gorse; The feathering stems, the sweeping ears, The heads to scent laid low, The find, the burst, the "Gone-away!" The rattling "Tally-ho!" My horses may eat off their heads, My huntsman eat his heart; My hounds may dream of kills and runs In which they've borne their part, Until the season's bore is done, And Parliament set free, And cub-hunting comes back again To make a man of me! * * * * * [Illustration: "A-HUNTING WE WILL GO!" _Lady._ "You're dropping your fish!" _Irish Fish Hawker_ (_riding hard_). "Och, bad luck to thim! Niver moind. Sure we're kapin' up wid the gentry!"] * * * * * [Illustration: JUMPING POWDER (_Mr. Twentystun having a nip on his way to covert_) _Small Boy._ "Oh my, Billy, 'ere's a heighty-ton gun a chargin' of 'isself afore goin' into haction!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DRAWN BLANK _Huntsman._ "How is it you never have any foxes here now?" _Keeper_ (_who has orders to shoot them_). "Pheasants have eat 'em all!"] * * * * * THE ADVANTAGE OF EDUCATION _M.F.H._ (_who has had occasion to reprimand hard-riding Stranger_). "I'm afraid I used rather strong language to you just now." _Stranger._ "Strong language? A mere _twitter_, sir. You should hear _our_ Master!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Non-sporting Farmer._ "Hi! you there! What the Duce do you mean by riding over my wheat!" _'Arry._ "'Ere, I say! What are yer givin' us? _Wheat!_ Why, it's only bloomin' _mud!_"] * * * * * "FOOT AND MOUTH" TROUBLE A valuable hunter, belonging to Mr. Durlacher, got its hind foot securely fixed in its mouth one day last week, and a veterinary surgeon had to be summoned to its assistance. This recalls the ancient Irish legend of the man who never opened his mouth without putting his foot into it. But that, of course, was a bull. * * * * * DECIDEDLY NOT _Nervous Visitor_ (_pulling up at stiff-looking fence_). "Are you going to take this hedge, sir?" _Sportsman._ "No. It can stop where it is, as far as I'm concerned." * * * * * UNGRATEFUL _The Pride of the Hunt_ (_to Smith, who, for the last ten minutes, has been gallantly struggling with obstinate gate_). "Mr. Smith, if you really _can't_ open that gate, perhaps you will kindly move out of the way, and allow me to _jump_ it!" * * * * * [Illustration: APT _Brown_ (_helping lady out of water_). "'Pon my word, Miss Smith, you remind me exactly of What's-her-name rising from the What-you-call!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CHECK _M.F.H._ (_riding up to old Rustic, with the intention of asking him if he has seen the lost fox_). "How long have you been working here, master?" _Old Rustic_ (_not seeing the point_). "Nigh upon sixty year, mister!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" _Whip._ "_Wisdom!_ Get away there!! _Wisdom!! Wisdom!!!_ Ugh!--you always were the biggest fool in the pack!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOMETHING THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY _Mrs. Brown_ (_being helped out of a brook by the gallant Captain, who has also succeeded in catching her horse_). "Oh, Captain Robinson! thank you _so_ much!" _Gallant, but somewhat flurried, Captain._ "Not at all--don't mention it." (_Wishing to add something excessively polite and appropriate._) "Only hope I may soon have another opportunity of doing the same again for you."] * * * * * REASSURING _Criticising friend_ (_to nervous man on new horse_). "Oh! now I recollect that mare. Smashem bought her of Crashem last season, and she broke a collar-bone for each of them." * * * * * [Illustration: "THE TIP OF THE MORNING TO YOU!" _First Whip thanks him, and hums to himself,_ "When other tips, and t'other parts, Then he remembers _me!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Giles_ (_indicating Sportsman on excitable horse, waiting his turn_). "Bless us all, Tumas, if that un beant a goin' to try it back'ards!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WITH THE HARDUP HARRIERS _Dismounted Huntsman_ (_to his mount_). "Whoa, you old brute! To think I went and spared yer from the biler only last week! You hungrateful old 'idebound 'umbug!"] * * * * * 'INTS ON 'UNTING, BY 'ARRY [Illustration: (1) ON CLOTHES.--"Why not employ local talent? Saves half the money, and no one can tell the difference."] [Illustration: (2) If the thong of your whip gets under your horse's tail, just try to pull it out!] [Illustration: (3) Don't buy a horse because he is described as being "Well known with the ---- Hounds." It might be true.] [Illustration: (4) If at a meet your horse should get a bit out of hand, just run him up against some one.] [Illustration: (5) If opening a gate for the huntsman, don't fall into the middle of the pack!] [Illustration: (6) Sit well back at your fences!] [Illustration: (7) Look before you leap.] [Illustration: (8) If you lose your horse, just tell the huntsman to catch it for you.] * * * * * EXCUSABLE _M.F.H._ (_justly irate, having himself come carefully round edge of seed-field_). "Blank it all, Rogerson, what's the good o' me trying to keep the field off seeds, and a fellow like you coming slap across 'em?" _Hard-Riding Farmer._ "It's all right. They're my own! Ar've just come ower my neighbour's wheat, and ar couldn't for vary sham(e) miss my own seeads!" * * * * * ANXIOUS TO SELL _Dealer_ (_to Hunting Man, whose mount has NOT answered expectations_). "How much do you want for that nag o' yours, sir?" _Hunting Man._ "Well, I'll take a hundred guineas." _Dealer._ "Make it _shillings_." _H. M._ (_delighted_). "He's yours!" * * * * * [Illustration: NOT A LADIES' DAY _Miss Scramble._ "Now, Charles, give me one more long hair-pin, and I shall do."] * * * * * CASUAL _Owner of let-out hunters_ (_to customer just returned from day's sport_). "Are you aware, sir, that ain't my 'orse?" _Sportsman._ "Not yours! Then, by Jove, I _did_ collar the wrong gee during that scrimmage at the brook!" * * * * * AT OUR OPENING MEET _Stranger from over the water._ "I guess you've a mighty smart bunch of dogs there, m'lord!" _Noble but crusty M.F.H._ "Then you guess wrong, sir. _This is a pack of hounds!_" * * * * * MUST BE HUNGRY "Wish you'd feed your horse before he comes out." "Eh--why--hang it!--what do you mean?" "He's always trying to eat my boots. He evidently thinks there's some chance of getting at a little corn!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE RETORT COURTEOUS (_A Reminiscence of the past Harrier Season_) _Major Topknot, M.H._ (_to butcher's boy_). "Hi! Hulloah! Have you seen my hare?" _Butcher's Boy._ "Ga-a-rn! 'Ave you seen my whiskers?"] * * * * * DISINTERESTED KINDNESS _Sportsman_ (_just come to grief, to Kindhearted Stranger who has captured horse_). "I say, I'm awfully obliged to you! I can get on all right, so please don't wait!" _Kindhearted Stranger._ "Oh, I'd rather, thanks! I want you to flatten the next fence for me!" * * * * * ENCOURAGING _Nervous Man_ (_who hires his hunters_). "Know anything about this mare? Ringbone tells me she's as clever as a man!" _Friend._ "Clever as a man? Clever as a woman more like it! Seen her play some fine old games with two or three fellows, I can tell you!" * * * * * [Illustration: NUNC AUT NUNQUAM _Voice from bottom of ditch._ "Hold hard a minute! My money has slipped out of my pockets, and it's all down here somewhere!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A REFORMED CHARACTER _John._ "Goin' to give up 'untin'! Deary! deary! An' 'ow's that, missie?" _Little Miss Di._ "Well, you see, John, I find my cousin Charlie, who is going to be a curate, does not approve of hunting women, so I intend to be a district visitor instead!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MOTTOES; OR, "WHO'S WHO?" Mrs. Prettyphat. Family Motto--"_Medici jussu_."] * * * * * SOMETHING LIKE A CHARACTER _Huntsman_ (_on being introduced to future wife of M.F.H._). "Proud to make your acquaintance, miss! Known the Capting, miss, for nigh on ten seasons, and never saw 'im turn 'is 'ead from hanything as was jumpable! Knows a 'oss and knows a 'ound! Can ride one and 'unt t'other; and if that ain't as much as can be looked for in a 'usband, miss, why, I'll be jiggered!" * * * * * A LIBERAL ALLOWANCE _Huntsman_ (_who has just drawn Mr. Van Wyck's coverts blank_). "Rather short of cubs, I'm afraid, sir!" _Mr. Van Wyck_ (_who has very recently acquired his country seat_). "Most extraordinary! Can't understand it at all! Why, I told my keeper to order a dozen only last week!" * * * * * [Illustration: STORIES WITHOUT WORDS How "the second horseman" went home.] * * * * * [Illustration: Scene--_As above._ Time--_Mid-day._ Sport--_None up to now._ _Stout Party_ (_about to leave_). "Most extr'ordinary thing. Whenever I go home, they always have a rattling good run." _Candid Friend._ "Then, for goodness' sake, _go home at once!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: MOST EXTRAORDINARY _Dismounted Sportsman._ "Now, how the deuce did my hat manage to get up there?"] * * * * * STRAIGHT _Huntsman_ (_to Boy, who is riding his second horse_). "Hi, there! What the doose are yer doin' of with that second 'oss?" _Boy_ (_Irish, and only just come to the Hunt stables from a Racing Establishment_). "Arrah thin, if oi roides oi roides to win! and divil a second is he goin' to be at all, at all!!" * * * * * FORBEARANCE _Member of Hunt_ (_to Farmer_). "I wouldn't ride over those seeds if I were you. They belong to a disagreeable sort of fellow, who might make a fuss about it." _Farmer._ "Well, sir, as him's me, he won't say nothing about it to-day." * * * * * [Illustration: (_Extract from a letter received by Mr. Shootall on the morning when hounds were expected to draw his covers_) _Leadenhall Market, Thursday._ Sir,--Your esteemed order to hand. We regret that we are quite out of foxes at present; but, as you mentioned they were for children's pets, we thought guinea pigs might do instead, so are sending half a dozen to-day. Hoping, &c., &c.] * * * * * TOO MUCH (_Pity the Sorrows of a poor Hunting Man!_) _Sportsman_ (_suffering from intense aberration of mind in consequence of the weather, in reply to wife of his bosom_). "Put out? Why, o' course I'm put out. Been just through the village, and hang me if at least half a dozen fools haven't told me that it's nice seasonable weather!" * * * * * AT THE HUNT BALL _Mr. Hardhit._ "Don't you think, Miss Highflier, that men look much better in pink--less like waiters?" _Miss Highflier._ "Yes, but more like ringmasters--eh?" [_Hardhit isn't a bit offended, but seizes the opportunity._ * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS In mounting your horse, always stand facing his tail.] * * * * * [Illustration: The patent pneumatic tennis-ball hunting costume. Falling a pleasure.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Second Whip._ "G-aw-ne away!" _Middle-aged Diana._ "Go on away, indeed! Impertinence! I'll go just when I'm ready!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS _Fox-hunter._ "Here's a bore, Jack! The ground is half a foot thick with snow, and it's freezing like mad!"] * * * * * THE HUNTSMAN'S POINT OF VIEW. One of the best runs of the season. Good scent all the way. Sir Heavistone Stogdon unfortunately fell at a stiff bank and broke his collar-bone. At the last moment, I regret to say, the fox got away. * * * * * [Illustration: A FOX HUNT (_After a tapestry_) * * * * * [Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET He encounters a "coomb," and wonders if it is soft at the bottom.] * * * * * [Illustration: WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET _Sportsman_ (_from the bog_). "Confound you, didn't you say there was a sound bottom here?" _Shepherd._ "Zo there be, maister; but thou 'aven't got down to un yet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET How he found a "Warrantable Deer."] * * * * * [Illustration: BUGGLES WITH THE DEVON AND SOMERSET _In_ Devonshire.] * * * * * FOOLS AND THEIR MONEY-- _Jones_ (_who has been having a fair bucketing for the last half-hour, as he passes friend, in his mad career_). "I'd give a fiver to get off this brute!" _Friend_ (_brutal_). "Don't chuck your money away, old chap! You'll be off for less than that!" * * * * * WITH THE QUEEN'S _Leading Sportsman._ "Hold ha--rd! Here's some more of that confounded barbed wire! Dashed if I don't think this country is mainly inhabited by retired fishing-tackle makers!" [_Makes for nearest gate, followed by sympathetic field._ * * * * * HIS OPINION _Jenkinson_ (_to M.F.H., who dislikes being bothered_). "What do you think of this horse?" (_No answer._) "Bred him myself, you know!" _M.F.H._ (_looking at horse out of corner of his eye_). "Umph! I thought you couldn't have been such a silly idiot as to have _bought_ him!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE VOICE OF SPRING _Bibulous Binks._ "Gad, it's freezing again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BLANK--BLANK--DAY] * * * * * [Illustration: WHOSE FAULT? "He _can_ jump, but he _won't!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A VIEW HALLOO (_Hounds at fault_) _Whip_ (_bustling up to young Hodge, who has just begun to wave his cap and sing out lustily_). "Now then, where is he?" _Young H._ "Yonder, sir! Acomin' across yonder!" _Whip._ "Get out, why there ain't no fox there stoopid!" _Young H._ "No, sir; but there be our Billy on his jackass!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Nelly_ (_to her Slave, in the middle of the best thing of the Season_). "Oh, Mr. Rowel, do you mind going back? I dropped my whip at the last fence!"] * * * * * SEVERE _M.F.H._ (_to Youth from neighbouring Hunt, who has been making himself very objectionable_). "Now, look here, young man. I go cub-hunting for the purpose of educating _my own_ puppies. As you belong to another pack, I'll thank you to take yourself home!" * * * * * [Illustration: HUNTING MEMORANDUM Appearance of things in general to a gentleman who has just turned a complete somersault! _* &c., &c., represent sparks of divers beautiful colours._] * * * * * [Illustration: "LE SPORTMAN" "Hi!! Hi!! Stop ze chasse! I tomble--I faloff! _Stop ze fox!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "CUBBING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS" _Half-awakened un-enthusiastic Sportsman_ (_who wished to go out cub-hunting, but has entirely changed his mind, drowsily addressing rather astonished burglar_). "Awright, old boy. Can't come with you this morning. Too sleepy." [_Turns round and resumes deep sleep where he left off._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A BROKEN PLEDGE _Sportsman on bank_ (_to Friend in brook_). "Hallo, Thompson, is that you? Why, I thought you had joined the 'No Drinks in between Meals' Party!"] * * * * * "IN THE DIM AND DISTANT FUTURE" _First Sportsman_ (_cantering along easily_). "I say, we shall see you at dinner on the nineteenth, shan't we?" _Second Ditto_ (_whose horse is very fresh, and bolting with him_). "If the beast goes on like this--hanged if you'll ever see me again." * * * * * [Illustration: THERE'S LIFE IN THE OLD DOG YET _Ex-M.F.H._ (_eighty-nine and paralytic_). "Fora-a-d! Fora-a-d! Fora-a-a-d!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Huntsman_ (_making a cast for the line of the fox, near a railway_). "Hold hard, please! Don't ride over the line!" _Would-be Thrusters._ "Oh, no, we won't. There's a bridge farther on!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "RANK BLASPHEMY" _Squire Oldboy, M.H._ (_enjoying a long and very slow hunt_). "There she goes! Afraid it's a new hare though." _Bored Sportsman._ "How lucky! The other must be getting doosid old."] * * * * * [Illustration: A CHECK _Huntsman._ "Seen the fox, my boy?" _Boy._ "No, I ain't!" _Huntsman._ "Then, what are you hollarin' for?" _Boy_ (_who has been scaring rooks_). "'Cos I'm paid for it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EASIER SAID THAN DONE _Sixteen-stone Sportsman (who has been nearly put down from a "rotten" landing, to little Bricks, 9st. 2lb.)_: "Do you mind putting me back in the saddle, sir?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TROUBLES OF AN M.F.H. _M.F.H._ (_to stranger, who is violently gesticulating to hounds_). "When you have done _feeding your chickens_, sir, perhaps you will allow me to hunt my hounds!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Nobody was near hounds in the big wood when they pulled down the cub except Mr. Tinkler and his inamorata. He rashly volunteers to secure the brush for her!] * * * * * [Illustration: "Morning, Tom. What a beastly day!" "It ain't a day, sir. I call it an interval between two bloomin' nights!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BAD LOOK-OUT _Sportsman_ (_to Friend whom he has mounted_). "For goodness' sake, old chap, don't let her put you down! She's certain to savage you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ECHOES OF THE CHASE _Huntsman_ (_who has been having a very bad ride_). "Either master wants some new 'orses or a new 'untsman!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS ON HUNTING Always see that your bridle reins are sound. There are times when they have a considerable strain on 'em!] * * * * * [Illustration: SO FAR, NO FARTHER Extraordinary position assumed by Mr. Snoodle on the sudden and unexpected refusal of his horse.] * * * * * [Illustration: HARD LUCK _Small Child_ (_to Mr. Sparkin, who had come out at an unusually early hour in order to meet his inamorata at the guide-post, and pilot her out cub-hunting_). "I was to tell you she has such a bad cold she couldn't come. But I'm going with you instead, if you promise to take care of me. I'm her cousin, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PSEUDO-THRUSTER _Farmer_ (_to Sportsman, returning from the chase_). "Beg pardon, sir, but ain't you the gent that broke down that there gate of mine this morning?" _Mr. Noodel_ (_who never by any chance jumps anything--frightfully pleased_). "Er--did I? Well, how much is the damage?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE WATER TEST _Whip_ (_bringing on tail hounds, in the rear of the field_). "Hulloah! Who've you got there?" _Runner_ (_who has just assisted sportsman out of a muddy ditch_). "Dunno. Can't tell till we've washed 'im down a bit!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MOST UNFORTUNATE Horrible catastrophe which happened to Captain Fussey (our ladies' man) on his arrival at the opening meet. New coat, new boots, new horse, new everything! Hard luck!] * * * * * [Illustration: A SEVERE TEST _Miss Sally_ (_who has just taken off her mackintosh--to ardent admirer_). "Look! they're away! Do just stuff this thing into your pocket. I'm sure I shan't want it again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A STUDY IN EXPRESSION _Irate M.F.H._ (_who has had half an hour in the big gorse trying to get a faint-hearted fox away, galloping to "holloa" on the far side of covert_). _"Confound you and your pony, sir! Get out of my way!"_ [_Binks, who has been trying to keep out of people's way all day, thinks he can quite understand the feelings of the hunted fox._ ] * * * * * OUR HUNT "POINT TO POINT" Last week our Point to Point steeplechase came off. So did several of the riders: this merely _par parenthèse_. I offered to mark out the course, and, as I intended to escape the dread ordeal of riding by scratching my horse at the last moment, I thought it would be great fun to choose a very stiff, not to say bloodthirsty, line. Awful grumbling on the part of those unhappy ones who were to ride. Just as the bell rang for saddling, Captain Sproozer, ready dressed for the fray, came up to me with very long face, and said, "Beastly line this, you know, Phunker. I call it much too stiff." I smiled in pitying and superior manner. "Think so, my dear Sproozer? My horse can't run, worse luck, but I only wish _I_ were going to have the gallop over it." "So you shall, then!" cried a rasping voice, suddenly, from behind me. Sir Hercules Blizzard was the speaker, an awful man with an awful temper. "So you shall. My idiot of a jockey broke his collar-bone trying to jump one of the fences on this confounded course of yours to-day, so, as I am without a rider, you shall ride my mare Dinah." Swallowed lump in my throat as I thanked him for his offer, but thought I had better decline, as I didn't know the mare, and besides that, I---- "Oh! all right, I know what you are going to say: that you're not much good on a horse"--(nothing of the sort! I was not going to say any such thing, confound the man!) "Of course, I know all that, and that you're not much of a rider; but I can't help myself now. It's too late to get a decent horseman, so I shall have to make shift with you." Deuced condescending of him. I made a feeble effort to escape, and would cheerfully have paid a hundred pounds for the chance of doing so. Phil Poundaway, great friend of mine, came up and said (sympathetically, as I thought at first), "I should think you'd prefer to get off it, wouldn't you, Phunker?" Thought he would volunteer in my place, so was perfectly frank with him. "My dear Phil, I'd give a hundred to get off----" "Ah! you will, I expect, at the first fence, without paying the money!" he grinned, as he turned away. Murder was in my heart at that moment. I got on Dinah, and, feeling like death, rode down to the starting-post. Thoughts of a misspent youth, of home and friends and things, came o'er me. I seemed once more to see the little rose-covered porch, the---- "What on earth are you mooning about?" thundered the Blizzardian voice in my ear. "Take hold of her head tighter than that, or you'll be off!" The next moment the starter yelled "Go!" and away, like a whirlwind, we sped across the first field, towards a huge, thick blackthorn fence, the one I had thought to see such fun with. Fun! I never felt less funny in my life, as we approached it at the rate of two thousand miles an hour! The mare jumped high, but I jumped much higher, and seemed for a brief moment to be soaring through the blue empyrean. Somehow, the mare managed to evade me on the return journey earthwards, and, instead of alighting on the saddle, I found myself "sitting on the floor." A howl--it might have been of sympathy, but it didn't sound quite like that--arose from the crowd, and then I thought that I would go home on foot, instead of returning to explain matters to Sir Hercules. As a matter of fact, I don't much care for associating with old Blizzard, at all events, not just now. * * * * * [Illustration: AMENITIES OF SPORT _Huntsman_ (_to Whip, sent forward for a view_). "Haven't ye seen him, Tom?" _Whip._ "No, sir." _Huntsman._ "If he'd been in a pint pot, ye jolly soon would!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS LITTLE DODGE _First Hunting Man_ (_having observed the ticket with "K" on it in his friend's hat_). "I didn't know that old gee of yours was a kicker. He looks quiet enough." _Second Hunting Man._ "Well, he isn't really. I only wear the "K" to make people give me more room!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE COURAGE _Whip._ "Hi, sir! Keep back! The fox may break covert there!" _Foreigner._ "Bah! I fear him not--your fox."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FORCE OF HABIT _Spanner_ (_a great cyclist, whose horse has been startled by man on covert hack_). "Hi! confound you! Why the deuce don't you sound your bell!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE CART WITHOUT THE HORSE" Scene--_Cub-hunting._ Time--_About one o'clock._ _Lady._ "Well, Count, what have you lost? Your lunch?" _The Count_ (_who breakfasted some time before six o'clock, a.m._). "No, no! Donner und wetter! I have him, but I have lost my teeth!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HORRIBLE PREDICAMENT _Gent_ (_on mettlesome hireling_). "'Elp! 'Elp! Somebody stop 'im! 'E's going to jump, and I can't!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MOST EMBARRASSING _Lady (hiding behind bush, to Mr. Spoodle, who has captured her horse)_. "Oh, thank you so much! But I hope to goodness you have found my skirt as well!" [_Nice position for Mr. Spoodle, who is very bashful, and has seen nothing of the garment_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: "DO NOT SPEAK TO THE MAN AT THE WHEEL" _'Arry_ (_puffing a "twopenny smoke," to huntsman, making unsuccessful cast_). "Very bad scent." _Huntsman._ "Shockin'! Smells like burnin' seaweed!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OBEYING ORDERS "It's all very well for master to say 'Keep close to Miss Vera, Miles'--but I want to know 'oo's going to take Miles to the 'orsepital?"] * * * * * [Illustration: GALLANTRY REWARDED _Lady_ (_having had a fall at a brook, and come out the wrong side,--to stranger who has caught her horse_). "Oh, I'm _so_ much obliged to you! Now, do you mind just bringing him over?"] * * * * * [Illustration: JUST OFF "Ride her on the snaffle, Tom! Don't ride her on the curb!" "Hang your curb and snaffle! I've enough to do to _ride her on the saddle!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A Suggestion: No more trouble from wire, damage to fences, etc.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TRIALS OF AN M.F.H. _M.F.H._ (_to misguided enthusiast who has been cheering hounds on a bad scent_). "Now then! Am I going to hunt the hounds or are you?" _Enthusiast_ (_sweetly_). "Just as you please, m'lord, just as you please."] * * * * * [Illustration: OFF HIS GUARD _Farmer_ (_just coming up_). "Young gentleman riding your brown horse, my lord, had nasty accident a field or two back. Barbed wire--very ugly cuts!" _My Lord._ "Tut--tut--tut! Dear--dear--dear! Not the horse, I hope?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "BON VOYAGE!" _Mossu (shot into a nice soft loam), exultingly._ "A--ha--a! I am safe o-vère! Now it is your turn, Meester Timbre Jompre! Come on, sare!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE WAY HOME FROM THE EXMOOR HUNT--NO KILL THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE _Fair Huntress._ "What a pity the hounds let that splendid stag get away, Colonel, wasn't it?" _Colonel._ "Pity! Ha, if they'd only taken my advice we should have been up with him now, instead of being miles away on the wrong track!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Distinguished Foreigner_ (_to good Samaritan who has caught his horse_). "Merci bien, monsieur! You save me much trouble. Before, I lose my horse--I lose him altogether, and I must put him in the newspaper!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VIVE LA CHASSE! _Foreign Visitor_ (_an enthusiastic "sportsman," viewing fox attempting to break_). "A-h-h-h! Halte-la! Halte! _You shall not escape!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: RATHER TOO MUCH _Lady_ (_having just cannoned Stranger into brook_). "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry I bumped you! Would you mind going in again for my hat?"] * * * * * THE END OF THE HUNTING SEASON (_By Our Own Novice_) Good-bye to the season! E'en gluttons Have had quite enough of the game, And if we returned to our muttons, Our horses are laid up and lame. We hunted straight on through the winter, And never were stopped by the frost, As I know right well from each splinter Of bone that my poor limbs have lost. Good-bye to the season! The "croppers" I got where the fences were tall, And Oh the immaculate "toppers" That always were crushed by my fall. Don't think though that I'm so stout-hearted As e'er to jump hedges or dikes, It's simply that after we've started, My "gee" gallivants as it likes. In vain I put on natty breeches, And tops like Meltonian swell, It ends in the blessed old ditches, I know like the Clubs in Pall Mall. And when from a "gee" that's unruly I fall with a terrible jar, I know that old _Jorrocks_ spoke truly, And hunting's "the image of war." And never for me "_Fair Diana_" Shall smile as we know that she can, With looks that are sweeter than manna, On many a fortunate man. It adds to the pangs that I suffer, When thrown at a fence in her track, To hear her "Ridiculous duffer!" When jumping slap over my back. I've fractured my ulnar, I'm aching Where over my ribs my horse rolled; Egad! the "Old Berkeley" is making One man feel uncommonly old. Good-bye to the season! I'm shattered And damaged in figure and face; But thankful to find I'm not scattered In pieces all over the place! * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS Good hands will often make the most confirmed refuser jump.] * * * * * [Illustration: TRULY DELIGHTFUL! Galloping down the side of a field covered with mole-hills, on a weak-necked horse, with a snaffle bridle, one foot out of your stirrup, and a bit of mud in your eye!] * * * * * [Illustration: SELF-PRESERVATION _Tomlin_ (_who has been mounted by friend_). "It's all very well to shout 'Loose your reins,' but what the deuce _am_ I to hang on to?"] * * * * * SEASONABLE DISH FOR A SPORTSMAN.--A plate o' _f_ox-tail soup. * * * * * THE RULE OF THE HUNTING-FIELD.--Lex Tally-ho-nis. * * * * * FASHIONABLE FOOD FOR HORSES.--Hay _à la_ mowed. * * * * * [Illustration: QUOTATIONS GONE WRONG "Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last." _Cowper._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: ALL HER PLAY _Country Gentleman_ (_to nervous man, whom he has mounted_). "By Jove, old chap, never saw the mare so fresh! Take care you ain't off!" _Nervous Man_ (_heartily_). "W--w--wish to goodness I were!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS Always let your horse see that you are his master.] * * * * * [Illustration] THE END BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
37166	----	MR. PUNCH AT THE SEASIDE [Illustration] PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch", from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * [Illustration: "BY THE SILVER SEA" This is _not_ Jones's dog.] * * * * * MR. PUNCH AT THE SEASIDE AS PICTURED BY CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, GEORGE DU MAURIER, PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, GORDON BROWNE, E. T. REED, AND OTHERS.... _WITH 200 ILLUSTRATIONS_ [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * EDITOR'S NOTE [Illustration] One of the leading characteristics of the nineteenth century was the tremendous change effected in the social life of Great Britain by the development of cheap railway travel. The annual holiday at the seaside speedily became as inevitable a part of the year's progress as the milkman's morning call is of the day's routine. What at first had been a rare and memorable event in a life-time developed into a habit, to which, with our British love for conventions, all of us conform. Whether or not our French critics are justified in saying that we Britishers take our pleasures sadly, these pages from the seaside chronicles of Mr. Punch will bear witness, and while at times they may seem to support the case of our critics, at others the evidence is eloquent against them. This at least is certain, that whatever the temperament of the British as displayed during the holiday season at our popular resorts, the point of view of our national jester, Mr. Punch, is unfailingly humorous, and such sadness as some of our countrymen may bring to their pleasures is but food for the mirth of merry Mr. Punch, who, we are persuaded, stands for the sum total of John Bull's good humour in his outlook on the life of his countrymen. As the real abstract and brief chronicler of our time, Mr. Punch has mirrored in little the social history of the last sixty-five years, and apart from the genuine entertainment which this book presents, it is scarcely less instructive as a pictorial history of British manners during this period. One may here follow in the vivid sketches of the master-draughtsmen of the age the ceaseless and bewildering changes of fashion--the passing of the crinoline, the coming and going of the bustle, the chignon, and similar vanities, and the evolution of the present-day styles of dress both of men and women. It is also curious to notice how little seaside customs, amusements, troubles and delights, have varied in the last half-century. Landladies are at the end what they were at the beginning; the same old type of bathing-machine is still in use; our forefathers and their womenfolk in the days when Mr. Punch was young behaved themselves by "the silver sea" just as their children's children do to-day. Nothing has changed, except that the most select of seaside places is no longer so select as it was in the pre-railway days, and that the wealthier classes, preferring the attractions of Continental resorts, are less in evidence at our own watering-places. The motto of this little work, as of all those in the series to which it belongs, is "Our true intent is all for your delight", but if the book carry with it some measure of instruction, we trust that may not be the less to its credit. MR. PUNCH AT THE SEASIDE _Mrs. Dorset_ (_of "Dorset's Sugar and Butter Stores", Mile End Road_). "Why on earth can't we go to a more _dressy_ place than this, 'Enery? I'm sick of this dreary 'ole, year after year. It's nothing but sand and water, sand and water!" _Mr. Dorset._ "If it wasn't for sand and water, you wouldn't get no 'olerday." * * * * * [Illustration: A FASHIONABLE WATERING PLACE] * * * * * SEASIDE MEM.--The Society recently started to abolish Tied-houses will not include Bathing Machines within the scope of its operations. * * * * * "WHERE'S RAMSGATE?" [Illustration: BIDDY-FORD] [_Mr. Justice Hawkins._ Where is Ramsgate? _Mr. Dickens._ It is in Thanet, your lordship. _Report of Twyman v. Bligh._] "Where's Ramsgate?" Justice Hawkins cried. "Where on our earthly planet?" The learned Dickens straight replied, "'Tis in the Isle of Thanet. "Ramsgate is where the purest air Will make your head or leg well, Will jaded appetite repair, With the shrimp cure of Pegwell. "Where's Ramsgate? It is near the place Where Julius Cæsar waded, And nearer still to where his Grace Augustine come one day did. "All barristers should Ramsgate know: I speak of it with pleasure", Quoth Dickens. "There I often go When wanting a refresher. "Where's Ramsgate? Where I've often seen. Both S-mb-rne and Du M-r-_er_, When I have gone by 3.15 Granville Express, Victori_er_. "With Thanet Harriers, when you are Well mounted on a pony, You'll say, for health who'd go so far As Cannes, Nice, or Mentone? "With Poland, of the Treasury, Recorder eke of Dover, I oft go down for pleasurey. Alack! 'tis too soon over! "O'er Thanet's Isle where'er you trudge, My Lud, you'll find no land which----" "Dickens take Ramsgate!" quote the Judge. "Luncheon! I'm off to Sandwich!" * * * * * [Illustration: A JUDGE BY APPEARANCE _Bathing Guide._ "Bless 'is 'art! I know'd he'd take to it kindly--by the werry looks on 'im!"] * * * * * THE WONDERS OF THE SEA-SHORE _Contributed by_ "GLAUCUS", _who is staying at a quiet watering-place, five miles from anywhere, and three miles from a Railway Station_. [Illustration] _Monday_(?) _after breakfast, lying on the beach._ Wonder if it is Monday, or Tuesday? Wonder what time it is? Wonder if it will be a fine day? Wonder what I shall do if it is? On second thoughts, wonder what I shall do if it isn't? Wonder if there are any letters? Wonder who that is in a white petticoat with her hair down? Wonder if she came yesterday or the day before? Wonder if she's pretty? Wonder what I've been thinking about the last ten minutes? Wonder how the boatmen here make a livelihood by lying all day at full length on the beach? Wonder why every one who sits on the shore throws pebbles into the sea? Wonder what there is for dinner? Wonder what I shall do all the afternoon? * * * * * _Same day, after lunch, lying on the beach._ Wonder who in the house beside myself is partial to my dry sherry? Wonder what there is for dinner? Wonder what's in the paper to-day? Wonder if it's hot in London? Should say it was. Wonder how I ever could live in London? Wonder if there's any news from America? Wonder what tooral looral means in a chorus? Children playing near me, pretty, very? Wonder if that little boy intended to hit me on the nose with a stone? Wonder if he's going to do it again? Hope not. Wonder if I should like to be a shrimp? * * * * * _Same day, after an early dinner, lying on the beach._ Wonder why I can never get any fish? Wonder why my landlady introduces cinders into the gravy? Wonder more than ever who there is at my lodgings so partial to my dry sherry? Wonder if that's the coast of France in the distance? Feel inclined for a quiet conversation with my fellow-man. [Illustration: EXMOUTH] A boatman approaches. I wonder (to the boatman) if it will be a fine day tomorrow? He wonders too? We both wonder together? Wonder (again to the boatman) if the rail will make much difference to the place? He shakes his head and says "Ah! he wonders!" and leaves me. Wonder what age I was last birthday? Wonder if police inspectors are as a rule fond of bathing? Wonder what gave me that idea? Wonder what I shall do all this evening? [Illustration: A HIGH SEA OVER THE BAR] _Same day, after supper, Moonlight, lying on the beach._ Wonder if there ever was such a creature as a mermaid? Wonder several times more than ever who it is that's so fond of my dry sherry? Wonder if the Pope can swim? Wonder what made me think of that? Wonder if I should like to go up in a balloon? Wonder what Speke and Grant had for dinner to-day? Wonder if the Zoological Gardens are open at sunrise? Wonder what I shall do to-morrow? * * * * * FRUIT TO BE AVOIDED BY BATHERS.--Currants. * * * * * [Illustration: SHOPPING _Lady_ (_at Seaside "Emporium"_). "How much are those--ah--improvers?" _Shopman._ "Improv--hem!--They're not, ma'am"--(_confused_)--"not--not the article you require, ma'am. They're fencing-masks, ma'am!" [_Tableau!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: DEA EX MACHINÂ! (_A Reminiscence_)] * * * * * [Illustration: A LARGE BUMP OF CAUTION _Flora._ "Oh, let us sit here, aunt, the breeze is so delightful." _Aunt._ "Yes--it's very nice, I dare say; but I won't come any nearer to the cliff, for I am always afraid of _slipping through those railings_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BOAT FOR AN HOUR _Stout Gentleman._ "What! is that the only boat you have in?"] * * * * * A SEASIDE REVERIE [Illustration] I think, as I sit at my ease on the shingle, And list to the musical voice of the Sea, How gaily my Landlady always will mingle From my little caddy her matutine tea. And vainly the bitter remembrance I banish Of mutton just eaten, my heart is full sore, To think after one cut it's certain to vanish, And never be seen on my board any more. Some small store of spirit to moisten my throttle I keep, and indulge in it once in a way; But, bless you, it seems to fly out of the bottle And swiftly decrease, though untouched all the day. My sugar and sardines, my bread and my butter, Are eaten, and vainly I fret and I frown; My Landlady, just like an Æsthete's too utter A fraud, and I vow that I'll go back to Town. * * * * * [Illustration: THE MORNING PAPERS Sketch from our window, 10 A.M., at Sludgeborough Ness.] * * * * * [Illustration] THE NURSEMAID'S FRIEND Science has given us the baby-jumper, by which we are enabled to carry out the common exclamation of "Hang those noisy children" without an act of infanticide, by suspending our youngsters in the air; and perhaps allowing them to have their full swing, without getting into mischief; but the apparatus for the nursery will not be complete until we have something in the shape of coops for our pretty little chickens, when they are "out with nurse", and she happens to have something better--or worse--to do than to look after them. How often, in a most interesting part of a novel, or in the midst of a love passage of real life, in which the nurse is herself the heroine, how often, alas! is she not liable to be disturbed by the howl of a brat, with a cow's horn in his eye, a dog's teeth in his heels, or in some other awkward dilemma, which could not have arisen had the domestic Child-coop been an article of common use in the Metropolitan parks, or on the sands at the seaside? [Illustration: YARMOUTH] There is something very beautiful in the comparison of helpless infancy to a brood of young chickens, with its attendant imagery of "mother's wing", and all that sort of thing, but the allegory would be rendered much more complete by the application of the hencoop to domestic purposes. We intend buying one for our own stud of _piccoli_--which means little pickles--and we hope to see all heads of families taking it into their heads to follow our example. * * * * * MIDSUMMER MADNESS.--Going to the seaside in search of quiet. * * * * * [Illustration: LOCAL INTELLIGENCE "D'year as 'ow old Bob Osborne 'ave give up shrimpin' an took ter winklin'?" "Well, I'm blest!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE INGRATITUDE OF SOME SERVANTS You give them a change by taking them to the seaside--all they have to do is to look after the children--and yet they don't seem to appreciate it.] * * * * * [Illustration: A NATIVE HOISTER] * * * * * [Illustration: GOING DOWN TO A WATERING PLACE] * * * * * ON THE SPOT Shall we like Pierpoint, to which favourite and healthy seaside resort we finally resolved to come, after a period of much indecision and uncertainty, and where we arrived, in heavy rain, in two cabs, with thirteen packages, on Saturday? Shall we be comfortable at 62, Convolution Street, dining-room floor, two guineas and a half a week, and all and perhaps rather more than the usual extras? Shall we like Mrs. Kittlespark? Shall we find Kate all that a Kate ought to be? Shall we lock everything up, or repose a noble confidence in Mrs. Kittlespark and Kate? Shall we get to know the people in the drawing-room? Shall we subscribe to the Pier, or pay each time we go on it? Shall we subscribe to that most accommodating Circulating Library, Pigram's, where we can exchange our books at pleasure, _but not oftener than once a day_? Shall we relax our minds with the newest novels, or give our intellects a bracing course of the best standard works? Shall we dine late or early? Shall we call on the Denbigh Flints, who, according to the _Pierpoint Pioneer_, are staying at 10, Ocean Crescent? Shall we carefully avoid the Wilkiesons, whom the same unerring guide reports at 33, Blue Lion Street? Shall we be satisfied with our first weekly bill? Shall we find in it any unexpected and novel extras, such as knife-cleaning, proportion of the water-rate, loan of latch-key, &c.? Shall we get our meat at Round's, who displays the Prince of Wales's Feathers over his shop door, and plumes himself on being "purveyor" to His Royal Highness; or at Cleaver's, who boasts of the patronage of the Hereditary Grand Duke of Seltersland? Shall we find everything dearer here than it is at home? Shall we be happy in our laundress? Shall we be photographed? Shall we, as Mrs. Kittlespark has a spare bed-room, invite our Cousin Amelia Staythorp, from whom we have expectations, and who is Constance Edith Amelia's Godmother, to come down and stay a week with us? Shall we be praiseworthily economical, and determine not to spend a single unnecessary sixpence; or shall we, as we _have_ come to Pierpoint, enjoy ourselves to the utmost, go in for all the amusements of the place--pier, public gardens, theatre, concerts, Oceanarium, bathing, boating, fishing, driving, riding, and rinking--make excursions, be ostentatiously liberal to the Town Band, and buy everything that is offered to us on the Beach? A month hence, shall we be glad or sorry to leave Pierpoint, and go back to Paddington? * * * * * [Illustration: GOING TO BRIGHTON] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT WE COULD BEAR A GOOD DEAL OF] * * * * * [Illustration: A VIEW OF COWES] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE AT SANDBATH The Female Blondin Outdone! Grand Morning Performance on the Narrow Plank by the Darling ----] * * * * * [Illustration: A LITTLE FAMILY BREEZE _Mrs. T._ "What a wretch you must be, T.; why don't you take me off? Don't you see I'm overtook with the tide, and I shall be drownded!" _T._ "Well, then--will you promise not to kick up such a row when I stop out late of a Saturday?"] * * * * * POSTSCRIPT TO A SEASIDE LETTER.--"The sea is as smooth, and clear, as a looking-glass. The oysters might see to shave in it." * * * * * [Illustration: ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK "And look here! I want you to take my friend here and myself just far enough to be up to our chins, you know, and no further!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BANGOR] * * * * * WHAT THE WILD WAVES ARE SAYING That the lodging-house keepers are on the look out for the weary Londoners and their boxes. That the sea breezes will attract all the world from the Metropolis to the coast. That Britons should prefer Ramsgate, Eastbourne, Scarborough, and the like, to Dieppe, Dinard, and Boulogne. That paterfamilias should remember, when paying the bill, that a two months' letting barely compensates for an empty house during the remainder of the year. That the shore is a place of recreation for all but the bathing-machine horse. That the circulating libraries are stocked with superfluous copies of unknown novels waiting to be read. That, finally, during the excursion season, 'Arry will have to be tolerated, if not exactly loved. * * * * * [Illustration: [_The "Lancet" advocates taking holidays in Midwinter instead of Midsummer._] View of the sands of Anywhere-on-Sea if the suggestion is adopted. Time--December or January.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Fydgetts_ (_screaming_). "My child! My child!" _Mr. Fydgetts._ "What's the use of making that noise? Can't you be quiet?" _Mrs. F._ "You're a brute, sir." _Mr. F._ "I wish I were; for then I should be able to swim." _Mrs. F._ "Mr. Fydgetts! Ain't you a-coming to help me?" _Mr. F._ "No! It serves you right for bringing me down to this stupid place." _Mrs. F._ "_I_, indeed. Why, I wanted to go to Brighton and you would come to Margate--you said it was cheaper." _Mr. F._ "It's false; I said no such thing." _Mrs. F._ "You did, you did!" _Mr. F._ "O, woman! woman! Where do you expect to go to?" _Mrs. F._ "To the bottom; unless you come and help me!" _Mr. F._ "Help yourself. I'm s-i-n-k-i-n-g"-- _Mrs. F._ "My child! My child!" _Mr. F._ (_rising from the water_). "Be quiet, can't you! Woo-o-m--" (_the rest is inaudible, but the watery pair are saved just in time, and renew their dispute in the boat as soon as they are rescued from their perilous position_).] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mabel_ (_soliloquising_). "Dear me, this relaxing climate makes even one's parasol seem too heavy to hold!"] * * * * * HOLIDAY HAUNTS _By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt_ I.--GREAT YARMOUTH [Illustration: PUFFINS] Why Great?--where's Little Yarmouth?--or Mid-Sized Yarmouth?--give it up--don't know--hate people who ask conundrums--feel well cured directly you get here--good trademark for dried-fish sellers, "The Perfect Cure"--if you stay a fortnight, get quite kipperish--stay a month, talk kipperish! Principal attractions--Bloaters and Rows--first eat--second see--song, "_Speak gently of the Herring_"--"long shore" ones splendid--kippers delicious--song, "_What's a' the steer, Kipper?_"--song, "_Nobody's rows like our Rows_"--more they are--varied--picturesque--tumbledown--paradise for painters--very narrow--capital support for native Bloater going home after dinner--odd names--Ramp, Kitty Witches--Gallon Can, Conge! Fancy oneself quite the honest toiler of the sea--ought to go about in dried haddock suit--feel inclined to emulate _Mr. Peggotty_--run into quiet taverns--thump tables violently--say "gormed!" Whole neighbourhood recalls _Ham_ and _Little Em'ly_--_David, Steerforth, Mrs. Gummidge_--recall ham myself--if well broiled--lunch--pleasant promenades on piers--plenty of amusement in watching the bloateric commerce--fresh water fishing in adjacent Broads, if you like--if not, let it alone--broad as it's long! The Denes--not sardines--nor rural deans--good places for exercise--plenty of antiquities--old customs--quaint traditions! Picturesque ancient taverns--capital modern hotels--stopping in one of the latter--polite waiter just appeared--dinner served--soup'll get cold--mustn't wait--never insult good cook by being unpunctual--rather let Editor go short than hurt cook's feelings[1]--so no more at present--from Yours Truly. [Illustration] [Footnote 1:] Don't like this sentiment. Is J. J. a Cook's Tourist?--ED. II.--LITTLEHAMPTON. [Illustration] Emphatically the Sea on the strict Q T--no bustle at railway-station--train glides in noiselessly--passengers ooze away--porters good-tempered and easy-going--like suffragan Bishops in corduroys--bless boxes--read pastorals on portmanteaux--no one in a hurry--locomotive coos softly in an undertone--fly-drivers suggest possibility of your requiring their services in a whisper! Place full--no lodgings to be had--visitors manage to efface themselves--no one about--all having early dinners--or gone to bed--or pretending to be somewhere else--a one-sided game of hide and seek--everybody hiding, nobody seeking! Seems always afternoon--dreamy gleamy sunshine--a dense quietude that you might cut in slices--no braying brass-bands--no raucous niggers--no seaside harpies--Honfleur packet only excitement--no one goes to see it start--visitors don't like to be excited! Chief amusements, Common, Sands, and Pony-chaises--first, good to roll on--second, good to stroll on--first two, gratuitous and breezy--third, inexpensive and easy--might be driven out of your mind for three-and-six--notwithstanding this, everybody presumably sane. Capital place for children--cricket for boys--shrimping for girls--bare legs--picturesque dress--not much caught--salt water good for ankles--excellent bathing--rows of bathing-tents--admirable notion! Interesting excursions--Arundel Castle--Bramber--Bognor--Chichester --Petworth House! Good things to eat--Arundel mullet--Amberley trout --Tarring figs! Delightful air--omnipotent ozone--uninterrupted quiet--just the place to recover your balance, either mental or monetary--I wish to recover both--that's the reason I'm here--send cheque at once to complete cure.[2] [Footnote 2:] We have sent him the price of a third-class fare to town, with orders to return instantly: possibly this is hardly the sort of check that our friend "J. J." expected.--ED. [Illustration: RAMSGATE] III.--SCARBOROUGH. Long way from London--no matter--fast train--soon here--once here don't wish to leave--palatial hotels--every luxury--good _tables d'hôte_--pleasant balls--lively society! Exhilarating air--good as champagne without "morning after"--up early--go to bed late--authorities provide something better than a broken-down pier, a circulating library, and a rickety bathing-machine--authorities disburse large sums for benefit of visitors--visitors spend lots of money in town--mutual satisfaction--place crowded--capital bands--excellent theatricals --varied entertainments--right way to do it! The Spa--first discovered 1620--people been discovering it ever since--some drink it--more walk on it--lounge on it--smoke on it--flirt on it--wonderful costumes in the morning--more wonderful in the afternoon--most wonderful in the evening! North Sands--South Sands--fine old Castle well placed--picturesque old town--well-built modern terraces, squares and streets--pony-chaises--riding-horses--Lift for lazy ones! Capital excursions--Oliver's Mount--Carnelian Bay--Scalby Mill--Hackness--Wykeham--Filey! Delightful gardens--secluded seats --hidden nooks--shady bowers--well-screened corners--Northern Belles--bright eyes--soft nothings--eloquent sighs--squozen hands--before you know where you are--ask papa--all up--dangerous very! Overcome by feelings--can't write any more--friend asks me to drink waters--query North Chalybeate or South Salt Well--wonder which--if in doubt try soda qualified with brandy--good people scarce--better run no risk! [Illustration: A CUTTER MAKING FOR THE PEER HEAD] * * * * * COSTUME IN KEEPING.--"Of all sweet things", said Bertha, "for the seaside, give me a serge." The Ancient Mariner shook his head. He didn't see the joke. * * * * * BOARD AND LODGING!--_Landlady._ "Yes, sir, the board were certingly to be a guinea a week, but I didn't know as you was a-going to bathe in the sea before breakfast and take bottles of tonic during the day!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE DONKEYS' HOLIDAY With compliments to the S.P.C.A.] * * * * * [Illustration: LABELLED!] * * * * * [Illustration: NAUGHTICAL? _Yachting Friend_ (_playfully_). "Have you any experience of squalls, Brown?" _Brown._ "Squalls!" (_Seriously._) "My dear sir, I've brought up ten in family!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL BEINGS Wearied by London dissipation, the Marjoribanks Browns go, for the sake of perfect quiet, to that picturesque little watering-place, Shrimpington-super-Mare, where they trust that they will not meet a single soul they know. Oddly enough, the Cholmondeley Joneses go to the same spot with the same purpose. Now, these Joneses and Browns cordially detest each other in London, and are not even on speaking terms; yet such is the depressing effect of "perfect quiet" that, as soon as they meet at Shrimpington-super-Mare, they rush into each other's arms with a wild sense of relief!] * * * * * [Illustration: HEARTS OF OAK _Angelina_ (_who has never seen a revolving light before_). "How patient and persevering those sailors must be, Edwin! The wind has blown that light out six times since they first lit it, and they've lighted it again each time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHANKLIN] * * * * * [Illustration: SCILLY] * * * * * [Illustration: HAYLING ISLAND] * * * * * [Illustration: MUMBLES] * * * * * [Illustration: "Now, mind, if any of those nasty people with cameras come near, you're to send them away!"] * * * * * SEASIDE SOLITUDE HIGHBURYBARN-ON-SEA (_From our Special Commissioner_) [Illustration: A CUTTER ROUNDING THE BUOY] Dear Mr. Punch,--This is a spot, which, according to your instructions, I reached last evening. In these same instructions you described it as "a growing place." I fancy it must be of the asparagus order, that vegetable, as you are well aware, taking three years in which to develop itself to perfection. Highburybarn-on-Sea is, I regret to say, in the first stage--judged from an asparagus point of view. I cannot entertain the enthusiastic description of the candid correspondent (I refer to the cutting forwarded by you from an eminent daily paper under the heading, "By the Golden Ocean.") He describes it as "an oasis on the desert coast of Great Britain." Far be it from me to deny the desert--all I object to is the oasis. [Illustration: Limpets] I ask you, sir, if you ever, in the course of the travels in which you have out-rivalled Stanley, Cameron, Livingstone, Harry de Windt, and, may I add, De Rougemont, ever came across an oasis, consisting of two score villas, built with scarcely baked bricks, reposing on an arid waste amid a number of tumbled-down cottages, and surmounted by a mighty workhouse-like hotel looking down on a pre-Adamite beershop? The sky was blue, the air was fresh, the waves had retreated to sea when I arrived in a jolting omnibus at Highburybarn-on-Sea, and deposited myself and luggage at the Metropolitan Hotel. A page-boy was playing airs on a Jew's-harp when I alighted on the sand-driven steps of the hostelry. He seemed surprised at my arrival, but in most respectful fashion placed his organ of minstrelsy in his jacket pocket, the while he conveyed my Gladstone bag to my apartment, secured by an interview with an elderly dame, who gave an intelligent but very wan smile when I suggested dinner. She referred me to the head waiter. This functionary pointed in grandiose fashion to the coffee-room, wherein some artistic wall-papering wag had committed atrocities on which it would be libel to comment. [Illustration: TAKING A DIP AND GETTING A BLOW] There was only one occupant, a short clean-shaven gentleman with white hair and a red nose, who was apparently chasing space. This turned out to be a militant blue-bottle. Meantime, the head-waiter produced his bill of fare, or rather the remains of it. Nearly every dish had apparently been consumed, for the most tempting _plats_ were removed from the _menu_ by a liberal application of red pencil. Finally, I decided on a fried sole and a steak. The white-haired man still pursued the blue-bottle. I went up to my room, and after washing with no soap I returned to the coffee-room. The blue-bottle still had the best of it. The head-waiter, after the lapse of an hour, informed me that the sole would not be long. When it arrived, I found that he spoke the truth. If you have any recollection of the repast which _Porthos_ endured when entertained by _Madame Coquenard_, you will have some notion of my feast. The head-waiter told me that some bare-legged persons who had waded into the water were shrimp-catchers. I only wished that I were one of them, for at least they found food. [Illustration: BIRCHINGTON] Later on I retired to rest. I was visited in the hours of darkness, to which I had consigned myself, by a horde of mosquitoes, imported, so I was informed in the morning, by American travellers, who never tipped the waiters. I fulfilled their obligations, still gazing on the auburn sand-drift, still looking on the sea, still feeling hungry and murmuring to myself, "Highburybarn-on-Sea would be a capital place for children, if I could only see any cows." A melancholy cocoa-nut shy by the station appeared to afford all the milk in the place. Yours despondently, NIBBLETHORPE NOBBS. * * * * * EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES: MARGATE.--_Mother._ "Now, Tommy, which would you rather do--have a donkey ride or watch father bathe?" * * * * * [Illustration: _Bathing Woman._ "Master Franky wouldn't cry! No! Not he!--He'll come to his Martha, and bathe like a man!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BATHING QUESTION Master Tommy is emphatically of the opinion that the sexes ought not to bathe together.] * * * * * [Illustration: WHITBOROUGH. LOW TIDE. ARRIVAL OF THE SCARBY STEAMER] * * * * * [Illustration: "DENUDATION" _Niece_ (_after a header_). "Oh, aunt, you're not coming in with your spectacles on?" _Aunt Clarissa_ (_who is not used to bathe in the "open"_). "My dear, I positively won't take off anything more, I'm determined!!"] * * * * * TO THE FIRST BATHING-MACHINE (_After Wordsworth_) [Illustration: MOORINGS] O Blank new-comer! I have seen, I see thee with a start: So gentle looking a Machine, Infernal one thou art! When first the sun feels rather hot, Or even rather warm, From some dim, hibernating spot Rolls forth thy clumsy form. Perhaps thou babblest to the sea Of sunshine and of flowers; Thou bringest but a thought to me Of such bad quarter hours. I, grasping tightly, pale with fear, Thy very narrow bench, Thou, bounding on in wild career, All shake, and jolt, and wrench. Till comes an unexpected stop; My forehead hits the door, And I, with cataclysmic flop, Lie on thy sandy floor. Then, dressed in Nature's simplest style, I, blushing, venture out; And find the sea is still a mile Away, or thereabout. Blithe little children on the sand Laugh out with childish glee; Their nurses, sitting near at hand, All giggling, stare at me. Unnerved, unwashed, I rush again Within thy tranquil shade, And wait until the rising main Shall banish child and maid. Thy doors I dare not open now, Thy windows give no view; 'Tis late; I will not bathe, I vow; I dress myself anew. * * * * * [Illustration: "THALATTA! THALATTA!" _General chorus_ (_as the children's excursion nears its destination_). "Oh, I say! There's the sea! 'Ooray!!" _Small boy._ "I'll be in fust!"] * * * * * HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY _A Social Contrast_ [Illustration: ILE OF MAN] I.--THE WRONG WAY _Pater._ Here at last! A nice reward for a long and tedious journey! _Mater._ Well, you were always complaining in town. _Pater._ Broken chairs, rickety table, and a hideous wall-paper! _Mater._ Well, I didn't buy the chairs, make the table, or choose the wall-paper. Discontent is your strong point. _Pater._ And is likely to remain so. Really, that German band is unbearable! _Mater._ My dear, you have no ear for music. Why, you don't even care for my songs! You used to say you liked them once. _Pater._ So I did--thirty years ago! _Mater._ Before our marriage! And I have survived thirty years! _Pater._ Eh? What do you mean by that, madam? _Mater._ Anything you please. But come--dinner's ready. _Pater._ Dinner! The usual thing, I suppose--underdone fish and overdone meat! _Mater._ Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of everything, my dear! _Pater._ I am glad you think so, my darling! [_And so they sit down to dinner._ II.--THE RIGHT WAY. _Pater._ Here at last! What a charming spot! A fitting sequel to a very pleasant journey! _Mater._ And yet you are very fond of town! _Pater._ This room reminds me of my own cozy study. Venerable chairs, a strange old table, and a quaintly-designed wall-paper. _Mater._ Well, I think if I had had to furnish the house, I should have chosen the same things myself. But had they been ever so ugly, I feel sure that you would have liked them. You know, sir, that content is your strong point. _Pater._ I am sure that I shall find no opportunity of getting any merit (after the fashion of _Mark Tapley_) for being contented in this pleasant spot. What a capital German band! _Mater._ I don't believe that you understand anything about music, sir. Why, you even pretend that you like my old songs! _Pater._ And so I do. Every day I live I like them better and better. And yet I heard them for the first time thirty years ago! _Mater._ When we were married! And so I have survived thirty years! _Pater._ Eh? What do you mean by that, madam? _Mater._ That I am a living proof that kindness never kills. How happy we have been! But come--dinner's ready. _Pater._ Dinner! The usual thing, I suppose--a nice piece of fish and a juicy joint. Now, that's just what I like. So much better than our pretentious London dinners! Not that a London dinner is not very good in its proper place. _Mater._ Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of everything, my dear. _Pater._ I am glad you think so, my darling! [_And so they sit down to dinner._ * * * * * [Illustration: A GOAT AND TWO KIDS] * * * * * [Illustration: AWFUL SCENE ON THE CHAIN PIER, BRIGHTON _Nursemaid._ "Lawk! There goes Charley, and he's took his mar's parasol. What _will_ missus say?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Temperance Enthusiast._ "Look at the beautiful lives our first parents led. Do you suppose _they_ ever gave way to strong drink?" _The Reprobate._ "I 'xpect Eve must 'a' done. She saw snakes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A POWERFUL QUARTET (At all events it looks and sounds like one)] * * * * * [Illustration] SWEETS OF THE SEASIDE. _Shingleton, near Dulborough._ SYMPATHISING MR. PUNCH, With the desire of enjoying a few days of tranquillity and a few dips in the sea, I have arrived and taken lodgings at this "salubrious watering-place" (as the guide-books choose to call it), having heard that it was quiet, and possessed of a steep, cleanly, and bathe-inviting beach. As to the latter point, I find that fame has not belied it; but surely with a view to tempt me into suicide, some demon must have coupled the term "quiet" with this place. Quiet! Gracious Powers of Darkness! if this be your idea of a quiet spot to live in, I wonder what, according to your notion, need be added to its tumult to make a noisy town. Here is a list of aural tortures wherewith we are tormented, which may serve by way of time-table to advertise the musical attractions of the place:-- 1 A.M.--Voices of the night. Revellers returning home. 1.30 A.M.--Duet, "_Io t'amo_", squealed upon the tiles, by the famous feline vocalists Mademoiselle Minette and Signor Catterwaulini. 2 A.M.--Barc-arole and chorus, "_Bow wow wow_" (BACH), by the Bayers of the Moon. 3 A.M.--Song without words, by the early village cock. 3.30 A.M.--Chorus by his neighbours, high and low, mingling the treble of the Bantam with the Brahma's thorough bass. [Illustration: ENJOYING THE HEIGHT OF THE SEAS-ON] 4 A.M.--Twittering of swallows, and chirping of early birds, before they go to catch their worms. 4.45 A.M.--Meeting of two natives, of course _just_ under your window, who converse in a stage-whisper at the tip-top of their voices. 5 A.M.--Stampede of fishermen, returning from their night's work in their heavy boots. 6 A.M.--Start of shrimpers, barefooted, but occasionally bawling. 7 A.M.--Shutters taken down, and small boys sally forth and shout to one another from the two ends of the street. 7.15 A.M.--"So-holes! fine fresh so-holes!" 7.30 A.M.--"Mack'reel! fower a shillun! Ma-a-ack'reel!" 8 A.M.--Piano play begins, and goes on until midnight. 8.25 A.M.--Barrel-organ at the corner. Banjo in the distance. 9 A.M.--German band to right of you. Ophicleide out of time, clarionette out of tune. 9.30 A.M.--"Pa-aper, mornin' pa-aper! _Daily Telegraft!_" 9.45 A.M.--German band to left of you. Clarionette and cornet both out of time and tune. 10.15 A.M.--A key-bugler and a bag-piper a dozen yards apart. 11 A.M.--Performance of Punch and Toby, who barks more than is good for him. 11.30 A.M.--Bellowing black-faced ballad-bawlers, with their banjoes and their bones. Such is our daily programme of music until noon, and such, with sundry variations, it continues until midnight. Small wonder that I have so little relish for my meals, and that, in spite of the sea air, I can hardly sleep a wink. I shall return to Town to-morrow, for surely all the street tormentors must be out of it, judging by the numbers that now plague the sad seaside. MISERRIMUS. * * * * * [Illustration: REDCAR] * * * * * [Illustration: MEETING OF THE OLD AND NEW PEERS AT BRIGHTON] * * * * * [Illustration: WALTON ON THE NAZE] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE MEAT SUPPLY" _Bathing-man._ "Yes, mum, he's a good old 'orse yet. And he's been in the salt water so long, he'll make capital biled beef when we're done with him!!!"] * * * * * _Our Poetess._ "Do not talk to me of dinner, Edwin. I must stay by this beautiful Sea, and _drink it all in_!" _Bill the Boatman._ "Lor! She's a thirsty one too!" * * * * * [Illustration: HOW TO KILL TIME AT THE SEASIDE Hire bath-chairs, put the bath-chairmen inside, and drag them as fast as you can up and down the parade.] * * * * * [Illustration: INOPPORTUNE _Enthusiast of the "No Hat Brigade"_ (_to elderly gentleman, who has just lost his hat_). "Fine idea this, sir, for the hair, eh?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones._ "Hullo, Brown, what's the matter with you and Mrs. Brown?" _Brown._ "Matter? Why, do you know what they call us down here? They call us Beauty and the Beast! Now I should like to know what my poor wife has done to get such a name as that!"] * * * * * THE TREACHEROUS TIDE [Illustration] I sat on a slippery rock, In the grey cliff's opal shade, And the wanton waves went curvetting by Like a roystering cavalcade. And they doffed their crested plumes, As they kissed the blushing sand, Till her rosy face dimpled over with smiles At the tricks of the frolicsome band. Then the kittywake laughed, "Ha! ha!" And the sea-mew wailed with pain, As she sailed away on the shivering wind To her home o'er the surging main. And the jelly-fish quivered with rage, While the dog-crabs stood by to gaze, And the star-fish spread all her fingers abroad, And sighed for her grandmothers' days. And the curlew screamed, "Fie! fie!" And the great gull groaned at the sight, And the albatross rose and fled with a shriek To her nest on the perilous height. * * * * * Good gracious! the place where I sat With sea-water was rapidly filling, And a hoarse voice cried, "Sir, you're caught by the tide! And I'll carry ye off for a shilling!" * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: A SAIL OVER THE BAY] * * * * * "LOCAL COLOUR."--PLACE: South Parade, Cheapenham-on-Sea.--_Edith._ "Mabel dear, would you get me _Baedeker's Switzerland_ and the last Number of the _World_." _Mabel._ "What do you want _them_ for?" _Edith._ "Oh, I'm writing letters, and we're in the Engadine, you know, and I just want to describe some of our favourite haunts, and mention a few of the people who are staying there--here, I mean." * * * * * [Illustration: SCENT BEES] * * * * * THE LAY OF THE LAST LODGER [Illustration] I. Oh dreary, dreary, dreary me! My jaw is sore with yawning-- I'm weary of the dreary sea, With its roaring beach Where sea-gulls screech, And shrimpers shrimp, And limpets limp, And winkles wink, And trousers shrink; And the groaning, moaning, droning tide Goes splashing and dashing from side to side, With all its might, from morn to night, And from night to morning's dawning. II. The shore's a flood of puddly mud, And the rocks are limy and slimy-- And I've tumbled down with a thud--good lud!-- And I fear I swore, For something tore; And my shoes are full Of the stagnant pool; And hauling, sprawling, crawling crabs Have got in my socks with star-fish and dabs; And my pockets are swarming with polypes and prawns, And noisome beasts with shells and horns, That scrunch and scrape, and goggle and gape, Are up my sleeve, I firmly believe-- And I'm horribly rimy and grimy. III. I'm sick of the strand, and the sand, and the band, And the niggers and jiggers and dodgers; And the cigars of rather doubtful brand; And my landlady's "rights", And the frequent fights On wretched points Of ends of joints, Which disappear, with my brandy and beer, In a way that, to say the least, is queer. And to mingle among the throng I long, And to poke my joke and warble my song-- But there's no one near On sands or pier, For everyone's gone and I'm left alone, The Last of the Seaside Lodgers! * * * * * [Illustration: FILEY] * * * * * NOTE BY OUR MAN OUT OF TOWN--Watering places--resorts where the visitor is pumped dry. * * * * * [Illustration: A STARTLING PROPOSITION _Seedy Individual_ (_suddenly and with startling vigour_)-- "Aoh! Floy with me ercross ther sea, Ercross ther dork lergoon!!" ] * * * * * [Illustration: CROWDED STATE OF LODGING HOUSES _Lodging-House Keeper._ "On'y this room to let, mem. A four-post--a tent--and a very comfortable double-bedded chest of drawers for the young gentlemen."] * * * * * A WET DAY AT THE SEASIDE Why does not some benefactor to his species discover and publish to a grateful world some rational way of spending a wet day at the seaside? Why should it be something so unutterably miserable and depressing that its mere recollection afterwards makes one shudder? This is the first really wet day that we have had for a fortnight, but what a day! From morn to dewy eve, a summer's day, and far into the black night, the pitiless rain has poured and poured and poured. I broke the unendurable monotony of gazing from the weeping windows of my seaside lodging, by rushing out wildly and plunging madly into the rainy sea, and got drenched to the skin both going and returning. After changing everything, as people say but don't mean, and thinking I saw something like a break in the dull leaden clouds, I again rushed out, and called on Jones, who has rooms in an adjacent terrace, and, with some difficulty, persuaded him to accompany me to the only billiard table in the miserable place. We both got gloriously wet on our way to this haven of amusement, and were received with the pleasing intelligence that it was engaged by a private party of two, who had taken it until the rain ceased, and, when that most improbable event happened, two other despairing lodgers had secured the reversion. Another rush home, another drenching, another change of everything, except the weather, brought the welcome sight of dinner, over which we fondly lingered for nearly two mortal hours. But one cannot eat all day long, even at the seaside on a wet day, and accordingly at four o'clock I was again cast upon my own resources. I received, I confess, a certain amount of grim satisfaction at seeing Brown--Bumptious Brown, as we call him in the City, he being a common councilman, or a liveryman, or something of that kind--pass by in a fly, with heaps of luggage and children, all looking so depressingly wet,--and if he had not the meanness to bring with him, in a half-dozen hamper, six bottles of his abominable Gladstone claret! He grinned at me as he passed, like a Chester cat, I think they call that remarkable animal, and I afterwards learnt the reason. He had been speculating for a rise in wheat, and, as he vulgarly said, the rain suited his book, and he only hoped it would last for a week or two! Ah! the selfishness of some men! What cared he about my getting wet through twice in one day, so long as it raised the price of his wretched wheat? My wife coolly recommended me to read the second volume of a new novel she had got from the Library, called, I think, _East Glynne_, or some such name, but how can a man read in a room with four stout healthy boys and a baby, especially when the said baby is evidently very uncomfortable, and the four boys are playing at leap-frog? Women have this wonderful faculty, my wife to a remarkable extent. I have often, with unfeigned astonishment, seen her apparently lost in the sentimental troubles of some imaginary heroine, while the noisy domestic realities around her have gone on unheeded. I again took my place at the window, and gazed upon the melancholy sea, and remembered, with a smile of bitter irony, how I had agreed to pay an extra guinea a week for the privilege of facing the sea!--and such a sea! It was, of course, very low water--it generally is at this charming place; and the sea had retired to its extremest distance, as if utterly ashamed of its dull, damp, melancholy appearance. And there stood that ridiculous apology for a pier, with its long, lanky, bandy legs, on which I have been dragged every evening to hear the band play. Such a band! The poor wheezy cornet was bad enough, but the trombone, with its two notes that it jerked out like the snorts of a starting train, was a caution. Oh! that poor "_Sweetheart_", with which we were favoured every evening! I always pictured her to myself sitting at a window listening, enraptured, to a serenade from that trombone! But there's no band to-night, not a solitary promenader on the bandy-legged pier, I even doubt if the pier master is sitting as usual at the receipt of custom, and I pull down the blind, to shut out the miserable prospect, with such an energetic jerk that I bring down the whole complicated machinery, and nearly frighten baby into a fit, while the four irreverent boys indulge in a loud guffaw. Thank goodness, on Saturday I exchange our miserable, wheezy, asthmatic band for the grand orchestra of the Covent Garden Promenade Concerts, and the awful perfume of rotten seaweed for the bracing atmosphere of glorious London. AN OUTSIDER. * * * * * [Illustration: BOATMAN SECURING A LIVELY-HOOD] * * * * * [Illustration: ON HIS HONEYMOON TOO! _Man with Sand Ponies._ "Now then, Mister, you an' the young lady, a pony apiece? 'Ere y'are!" _Snobley_ (_loftily_). "Aw--I'm not accustomed to that class of animal." _Man_ (_readily_). "Ain't yer, sir? Ne' mind." (_To boy._) "'Ere, Bill, look sharp! Gent'll have a donkey!"] * * * * * SEASIDE SPLITTERS [Illustration: LOW-TIED ROCKS SEE-WEED MUSCLE GATHERERS A KNAW WESTER HIGH TIED] * * * * * [Illustration: LIFE WOULD BE PLEASANT, BUT FOR ITS "PLEASURES."--_Sir Cornewall Lewis_ In consequence of the English watering-places being crowded, people are glad to find sleeping accommodation in the bathing-machines. _Boots_ (_from Jones's Hotel_). "I've brought your shaving water, sir; and you'll please to take care of your boots on the steps, gents: the tide's just a comin' in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RETURNING HOME FROM THE SEASIDE All the family have colds, except the under-nurse, who has a face-ache. Poor materfamilias, who originated the trip, is in despair at all the money spent for nothing, and gives way to tears. Paterfamilias endeavours to console her with the reflection that "_he_ knew how it would be, but that, after all, St. John's Wood, where they live, is such a healthy place that, with care and doctoring, they _will soon be nearly as well as if they had never left it_!" [_Two gay bachelors may be seen contemplating paterfamilias and his little group. Their interest is totally untinged with envy._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD AT SCARBOROUGH "Do you know anything good for a cold?" "Yes." "What is it?" "Have you got the price of two Scotch whiskies on you?" "No." "Then it's no use my telling you."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Snobson_ (_to inhabitant of out-of-way seaside resort_). "What sort of people do you get down here in the summer?" _Inhabitant._ "Oh, all sorts, zur. There be fine people an' common people, an' some just half-an'-half, like yourself, zur."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OYSTERS AT WHITSTABLE FROZEN IN THEIR BEDS! (_See Daily Papers_)] * * * * * [Illustration: A DELICIOUS DIP. _Bathing Attendant._ "Here, Bill! The gent wants to be took out deep--take 'im _into the drain_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "How much was old Mr. Baskerville's estate sworn at by his next-of-kin?" _He._ "Oh--a pretty good lot." _She._ "Really? Why, I heard he died worth hardly anything!" _He._ "Yes, so he did--that's just it."] * * * * * [Illustration: EVIDENCE OLFACTORY _Angelina_ (_scientific_). "Do you smell the iodine from the sea, Edwin? Isn't it refreshing?" _Old Salt_ (_overhearing_). "What you smell ain't the sea, miss. It's the town drains as flows out just 'ere!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OBLIGING. _Excursionist_ (_to himself_). "Ullo! 'ere's one o' them artists. 'Dessay 'e'll want a genteel figger for 'is foreground. I'll _stand for 'im_!!!"] * * * * * TRUE DIPSOMANIA.--Overbathing at the seaside. * * * * * AN IDLE HOLIDAY. When the days are bright and hot, In the month of August, When the sunny hours are not Marred by any raw gust, Then I turn from toil with glee, Sing a careless canto, And to somewhere by the sea Carry my portmanteau. Shall I, dreaming on the sand, Pleased with all things finite, Envy Jones who travels and Climbs an Apennine height-- Climbs a rugged peak with pain, Literally speaking, Only to descend again Fagged with pleasure-seeking? Smith, who, worn with labour, went Off for rest and leisure, Races round the Continent In pursuit of pleasure: Having lunched at Bâle, he will At Lucerne his tea take, Riding till he's faint and ill, Tramping till his feet ache. Shall I, dreaming thus at home, Left ashore behind here, Envy restless men who roam Seeking what I find here? Since beside my native sea, Where I sit to woo it, Pleasure always comes to me, Why should I pursue it? * * * * * [Illustration: THE MURMUR OF THE TIED] * * * * * EXTRA SPECIAL.--_Paterfamilias_ (_inspecting bill, to landlady_). I thought you said, Mrs. Buggins, when I took these apartments, that there were no extras, but here I find boots, lights, cruets, fire, table-linen, sheets, blankets and kitchen fire charged. _Mrs. Buggins._ Lor' bless you, sir, they're not extras, but necessaries. _Paterfamilias._ What, then, do you consider extras? _Mrs. Buggins._ Well, sir, that's a difficult question to answer, but I should suggest salad oil, fly-papers, and turtle soup. [_Paterfamilias drops the subject and pays his account._ * * * * * [Illustration: SUSPICION _Stout Visitor_ (_on discovering that, during his usual nap after luncheon, he has been subjected to a grossly personal practical joke_). "It's one o' those dashed artists that are staying at the 'Lord Nelson' 'a' done this, I know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Aunt Jane._ "It's wonderful how this wireless telegraphy is coming into use!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DREAM OF THE SEA Ethel, who is not to have a seaside trip this year, dreams every night that she and her mamma and aunt and sisters spread their sash-bows and panniers and fly away to the yellow sands.] * * * * * THE MARGATE BATHING-WOMAN'S LAMENT It nearly broke my widowed art, When first I tuk the notion, That parties didn't as they used, Take reglar to the ocean. The hinfants, darling little soles, Still cum quite frequent, bless 'em! But they is only sixpence each, Which hardly pays to dress 'em. The reason struck me all at once, Says I, "It's my opinion, The grown-up folks no longer bathes Because of them vile Sheenions." The last as cum drest in that style, Says, as she tuk it horf her, "I'm sure I shall not know the way To re-arrange my quoffur!" By which she ment the ed of air, Which call it wot they will, sir; Cum doubtless off a convict at Millbank or Pentonville, sir. The Parliament should pass a law, Which there's sufficient reason; That folks as wear the Sheenions should Bathe reg'lar in the season. * * * * * [Illustration: A LANCASHIRE WATERING-PLACE] * * * * * "MERRY MARGIT" (_Another communication from the side of the dear sea waves_) I was told it was greatly improved--that there were alterations in the sea-front suggestive of the best moments of the Thames Embankment--that quite "smart" people daily paraded the pier. So having had enough of "Urn-bye", I moved on. The improvements scarcely made themselves felt at the railway station. Seemingly they had not attracted what Mr. Jeames would call "the upper suckles." There were the customary British middle-class matron from Peckham, looking her sixty summers to the full in a sailor hat; the seaside warrior first cousin to the billiard-marker captain with flashy rings, beefy hands, and a stick of pantomime proportions, and the theatrical lady whose connection with the stage I imagine was confined to capering before the footlights. However, they all were there, as I had seen them any summer these twenty years. But I had been told to go to the Pier, and so to the Pier I went, glancing on my way at the entertainers on the sands, many of whom I found to be old friends. Amongst them was the "h"-less phrenologist, whose insight into character apparently satisfied the parents of any child whose head he selected to examine. Thus, if he said that a particularly stupid-looking little boy would make a good architect, schoolmaster, or traveller for fancy goods, a gentleman in an alpaca-coat and a wide-awake hat would bow gratified acquiescence, a demonstration that would also be evoked from a lady in a dust cloak, when the lecturer insisted that a giggling little girl would make a "first-rate dressmaker and cutter-out." Arrived at the Pier, I found there was twopence to pay for the privilege of using the extension, which included a restaurant, a band, some talented fleas, and a shop with a window partly devoted to the display of glass tumblers, engraved with legends of an amusing character, such as "Good old Mother-in-Law", "Jack's Night Cap", "Aunt Julia's Half Pint", and so on. There were a number of seats and shelters, and below the level of the shops was a landing-stage, at which twice a day two steamers from or to London removed or landed passengers. During the rest of the four-and-twenty hours it seemed to be occupied by a solitary angler, catching chiefly seaweed. The Band, in spite of its uniform, was not nearly so military as that at "Urn Bye." It contained a pianoforte--an instrument upon which I found the young gentleman who sold the programmes practising during a pause between the morning's selection and the afternoon's performances. But still the Band was a very tuneful one, and increased the pleasure that the presence of so many delightful promenaders was bound to produce. Many of the ladies who walked round and round, talking courteously to 'Arry in all his varieties, wore men's _habits_, _pur et simple_ (giving them the semblance of appearing in their shirt-sleeves), while their heads were adorned with fair wigs and sailor hats, apparently fixed on together. These free-and-easy-looking damsels did not seem to find favour in the eyes of certain other ladies of a sedater type, who regarded them (over their novels) with undisguised contempt. These other ladies, I should think, from their conversation and appearance, must have been the very flowers of the flock of Brixton Rise, and the _crème de la crême_ of Peckham Rye society. Of course there were a number of more or less known actors and actresses from London, some of them enjoying a brief holiday, and others engaged in the less lucrative occupation of "resting." However, the dropping of "h's", even to the accompaniment of sweet music, sooner or later becomes monotonous, and so, after awhile, I was glad to leave the Pier for the attractions of the Upper Cliff. On my way I passed a Palace of Pleasure or Varieties, or Something wherein a twopenny wax-work show seemed at the moment to be one of its greatest attractions. This show contained a Chamber of Horrors, a scene full of quiet humour of Napoleon the Third Lying in State, and an old effigy of George the Third. The collection included the waxen head of a Nonconformist minister, who, according to the lecturer, had been "wery good to the poor", preserved in a small deal-box. There was also the "Key-Dyevie" of Egypt, General Gordon, and Mrs. Maybrick. Tearing myself away from these miscellaneous memories of the past, I ascended to the East Cliff, which had still the "apartments-furnished" look that was wont to distinguish it of yore. There was no change there; and as I walked through the town, which once, as a watering-place, was second only in importance to Bath,--which a century ago had for its M.C. a rival of Beau Nash,--I could not help thinking how astonished the ghosts of the fine ladies and gentlemen who visited "Meregate" in 1789 must be, if they are able to see their successors of to-day--"Good Old Chawlie Cadd", and Miss Topsie Stuart Plantagenet, _née_ Tompkins. * * * * * [Illustration: DEAL] * * * * * [Illustration: "NICE FOR THE VISITORS" (Sketch outside a fashionable hotel)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Boy_ (_to Brown, who is exceedingly proud of his sporting appearance_). "Want a donkey, mister?"] * * * * * [Illustration: INCORRIGIBLE _Visitor._ "Well, my man, I expect it must have cost you a lot of money to paint your nose that colour!" _Reprobate._ "Ah, an' if Oi cud affoord it, Oi'd have it _varnished_ now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTE" _Materfamilias_ (_just arrived at Shrimpville--the children had been down a month before_). "Well, Jane, have you found it dull?" _Nurse._ "It was at fust, M'm. There was nothink to improve the mind, M'm, till the niggers come down!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BY THE SAD SEA WAVES "But, are you sure?" "Yus, lady. 'E's strong as an 'orse!" "But how am I to get on?" "Oh, _I'll lift yer_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DELICATE ATTENTION _Confiding Spinster._ "I'm afraid the sea is too cold for me this morning, Mr. Swabber." _Bathing Man._ "Cold, miss! Lor' bless yer, I just took and powered a kittle o' bilin' water in to take the chill off when I see you a comin'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HOLIDAY PLEASURES _Injured Individual._ "Heigho! I _did_ think I should find some refuge from the miseries of the seaside in the comforts of a bed! Just look where my feet are, Maria!" _His Wife._ "_Well_, John! it's _only_ for a _month_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BLIGHTED HOPES _Extract of letter from Laura to Lillie_:--"I declare, dear, I never gave the absurd creature the slightest encouragement. I did say, one evening, I thought the little sandy coves about Wobbleswick were charming, especially one. _The idea!_--of his thinking I was alluding to him!"----&c., &c.] * * * * * [Illustration: SENSITIVE "I think I told you, in my letter of the first of October, of his absurd interpretation of an innocent remark of mine about the sandy shores of Wobbleswick. Well, would you believe it, dear! we were strolling on the Esplanade, the other day, when he suddenly left Kate and me, and took himself off in a tremendous huff because we said we liked walking _with an object_!!" [_Extract from a later letter of Laura's to Lillie._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS "No bathing to-day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS A Nocturne which would seem to show that "residential flats" were not wholly unknown even in primeval times!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Blinks._ "The sun 'll be over the yard-arm in ten minutes. _Then_ we'll have a drink!" _Jinks._ "I think I'll have one while I'm waiting!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT _Tompkins_ (_in a feeble voice, for the fourth or fifth time, with no result_). "Chairman!!! chairman!!!" _That Awful Boy._ "Lydies and gentlemen----!!"] * * * * * SEASIDE ASIDES (_Paterfamilias in North Cornwall_) [Illustration] Oh! how delightful now at last to come Away from town--its dirt, its degradation, Its never-ending whirl, its ceaseless hum. (A long chalks better, though, than sheer stagnation.) For what could mortal man or maid want more Than breezy downs to stroll on, rocks to climb up, Weird labyrinthine caverns to explore? (There's nothing else to do to fill the time up.) Your honest face here earns an honest brown, You ramble on for miles 'mid gorse and heather, Sheep hold athletic sports upon the down (Which makes the mutton taste as tough as leather). The place is guiltless, too, of horrid piers. And likewise is not Christy-Minstrel tooney; No soul-distressing strains disturb your ears. (A German band has just played "_Annie Rooney_".) The eggs as fresh as paint, the Cornish cream The boys from school all say is "simply ripping." The butter, so the girls declare, "a dream." (The only baccy you can buy quite dripping.) A happiness of resting after strife, Where one forgets all worldly pain and sorrow, And one contentedly could pass one's life. (A telegram will take _me_ home to-morrow.) * * * * * SCENE: MARGATE BEACH ON EASTER MONDAY.--_First Lady._ "Oh, here comes a steamer. How high she is out of the water." _Second Lady._ "Yes, dear, but don't you see? It's because the tide's so low." * * * * * [Illustration: AWKWARD _The aristocratic Jones_ (_rather ashamed of his loud acquaintance, Brown_). "You must excuse me, but if there's one thing in the world I particularly object to, it's to having anybody take my arm!" _Brown._ "All right, old fellow!--_you_ take _mine_!"] * * * * * THE SEASIDE VISITOR'S VADE MECUM. _Question._ Is it your intention to leave London at once to benefit by the ocean breezes on the English coast? _Answer._ Certainly, with the bulk of my neighbours. _Q._ Then the metropolis will become empty? _A._ Practically, for only about three and a half millions out of the four millions will be left behind. _Q._ What do you consider the remaining residuum? _A._ From a West End point of view a negligible quantity. _Q._ Do not some of the Eastenders visit the seaside? _A._ Yes, at an earlier period in the year, when they pay rather more for their accommodation than their neighbours of the West. _Q._ How can this be, if it be assumed that the East is poorer than the West? _A._ The length of the visit is governed by the weight of the purse. Belgravia stays a couple of months at Eastbourne, while three days at Margate is enough for Shoreditch. _Q._ Has a sojourn by the sea waves any disadvantages? _A._ Several. In the first instance, lodgings are frequently expensive and uncomfortable. Then there is always a chance that the last lodgers may have occupied their rooms as convalescents. Lastly, it is not invariably the case that the climate agrees with himself and his family. _Q._ And what becomes of the house in town? _A._ If abandoned to a caretaker, the reception rooms may be used by her own family as best chambers, and if let to strangers, the furniture may be injured irretrievably. _Q._ But surely in the last case there would be the certainty of pecuniary indemnity? _A._ Cherished relics cannot be restored by their commonplace value in money. _Q._ Then, taking one thing with another, the benefit of a visit to the seaside is questionable? _A._ Assuredly; and an expression of heartfelt delight at the termination of the outing and the consequent return home is the customary finish to the, styled by courtesy, holiday. _Q._ But has not the seaside visit a compensating advantage? _A._ The seaside visit has a compensating advantage of overwhelming proportions, which completely swallows up and effaces all suggestions of discomfort--it is the fashion. * * * * * [Illustration: PARIS? "Not if I know it! Give me a quiet month at the seaside, and leave me alone, please!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONVERSATIONAL PITFALLS _Irene._ "Do you remember Kitty Fowler?" _Her Friend._ "No, I don't." _Irene._ "Oh, you _must_ remember Kitty. She was the plainest girl in Torquay. But I forgot--that was after you left!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Visitor._ "Have you ever seen the sea-serpent?" _Boatman._ "No, sir. I'm a temperance man."] * * * * * [Illustration: SEPARATE INTERESTS _Husband._ "Hi! Maria! Take care of the paint!" _Painter._ "It don't matter, ma'am. It'll all 'ave to be painted again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTION TO YOUNG LADIES WHO RIDE IN CRINOLINE ON DONKEYS] * * * * * [Illustration: MARGATE _Chatty Visitor._ "I like the place. I always come here. 'Worst of it is, it's a little too dressy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS _Shy but Susceptible Youth._ "Er--_could_ you tell me who that young lady is--sketching?" _Affable Stranger._ "She has the misfortune to be my wife!" _Shy but Susceptible One_ (_desperately anxious to please, and losing all presence of mind_). "Oh--the misfortune's entirely _yours_, I'm _sure_!"] * * * * * BRILLIANT SUGGESTION (_Overheard at the Seaside_).--_She._ "So much nicer now that all the visitors have gone. Don't you think so?" _He._ "Yes, by Jove! So jolly nice and quiet! Often wonder that _everybody_ doesn't come now when there's nobody here, don't you know!" * * * * * [Illustration: A NUISANCE. _Miss Priscilla._ "Yes; it's a beautiful view. But tourists are in the habit of bathing on the opposite shore, and that's rather a drawback." _Fair Visitor._ "Dear me! but at such a distance as that--surely----" _Miss Priscilla._ "Ah, but with a _telescope_, you know!"] * * * * * THE SEASIDE PHOTOGRAPHER [Illustration] I do not mean the Kodak fiend, Who takes snap-shots of ladies dipping, And gloats o'er sundry views he's gleaned Of amatory couples "tripping." No, not these playful amateurs I sing of, but the serious artist, Who spreads upon the beach his lures, What time the season's at its smartest. His tongue is glib, his terms are cheap, For ninepence while you wait he'll take you; Posterity shall, marv'lling, keep The "tin-type" masterpiece he'll make you. What though his camera be antique, His dark-room just a nose-bag humble, What if his tripod legs are weak, And threaten constantly to tumble. No swain nor maiden can withstand His invitation arch, insidious, To pose _al fresco_ on the strand-- His _clientèle_ are not fastidious. "You are so lovely", says the wretch, "Your picture will be quite entrancing!" And to the lady in the sketch I overheard him thus romancing. * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION _Sir Talbot Howard Vere de Vere._ "Ah! Good morning, Mrs. Jones! Dreadful accident just occurred. Poor young lady riding along the King's Road--horse took fright--reared, and fell back upon her--dreadfully injured, I'm sorry to say!" _Mrs. Woodbee Swellington Jones._ "_Quite_ too shocking, dear Sir Talbot! Was she--er--a person of position?" _Sir Talbot Howard Vere de Vere._ "POSITION, by George!! Dooced uncomfortable position, too, I should say!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FOR THE PUBLIC GOOD _Bertie._ "Gertie, do just go back to the beach and fetch me a baby (you'll find a lot about), and I'll show you all the different ways of saving it from drowning!"] * * * * * ANNALS OF A WATERING-PLACE THAT HAS "SEEN ITS DAY" [Illustration: TYNEMOUTH] The weather which, in Mr. Dunstable's varied experience of five-and-twenty years, he assures me, has never been so bad, having at length afforded some indications of "breaking", I make the acquaintance, through Mrs. Cobbler, of Mr. Wisterwhistle, proprietor of the one bath-chair available for the invalid of Torsington-on-Sea, who, like myself, stands in need of the salubrious air of that health-giving resort, but who is ordered by his medical adviser to secure it with the least possible expenditure of physical strength. Both Mr. Wisterwhistle and his chair are peculiar in their respective ways, and each has a decided history. Mr. Wisterwhistle, growing confidential over his antecedents, says, "You see, sir, I wasn't brought up to the bath-chair business, so to speak, for I began in the Royal Navy, under His Majesty King William the Fourth. Then I took to the coastguard business, and having put by a matter of thirty pound odd, and hearing 'she' was in the market,"--Mr. Wisterwhistle always referred to his bath-chair as 'she,' evidently regarding it from the nautical stand-point as of the feminine gender,--"and knowing, saving your presence, sir, that old Bloxer, of whom I bought her, had such a good crop of cripples the last season or two, that he often touched two-and-forty shillings a week with 'em, I dropped Her Majesty's service, and took to this 'ere. But, Lor, sir, the business ain't wot it wos. Things is changed woeful at Torsington since I took her up. Then from 9 o'clock, as you might say, to 6 P.M., every hour was took up; and, mind you, by real downright 'aristocracy,'--real live noblemen, with gout on 'em, as thought nothink of a two hours' stretch, and didn't 'aggle, savin' your presence, over a extra sixpence for the job either way. But, bless you, wot's it come to now? Why, she might as well lay up in a dry dock arf the week, for wot's come of the downright genuine invalid, savin' your presence, blow'd if I knows. One can see, of course, sir, in arf a jiffy, as you is touched in the legs with the rheumatics, or summat like it; but besides you and a old gent on crutches from Portland Buildings, there ain't no real invalid public 'ere at all, and one can't expect to make a livin' out of you two; for if you mean to do the thing ever so 'ansome, it ain't reasonable to expect you and the old gent I was a referring to, to stand seven hours a day goin' up and down the Esplanade between you, and you see even that at a bob an hour ain't no great shakes when you come to pay for 'ousing her and keepin' her lookin' spic and span, with all her brass knobs a shining and her leather apron fresh polished with patent carriage blackin': and Lor, sir, you'd not b'lieve me if I was to tell you what a deal of show some parties expects for their one bob an hour. Why, it was only the other day that Lady Glumpley (a old party with a front of black curls and yaller bows in her bonnet, as I dare say you've noticed me a haulin' up and down the Parade when the band's a playin'), says to me, says she, 'It ain't so much the easygoin' of your chair, Mr. Wisterwhistle, as makes me patronise it, as its general genteel appearance. For there's many a chair at Brighton that can't hold a candle to it!'" But at this point he was interrupted by the appearance of a dense crowd that half filled the street, and drew up in silent expectation opposite my front door. Dear me, I had quite forgotten I had sent for him. But the boy who cleans the boots and knives has returned, and brought with him _the One Policeman_! [Illustration: INDIAMAN GOING INTO PORT] * * * * * QUERY AT SOME FASHIONABLE SEASIDE RESORT.--Do the unpleasant odours noticeable at certain times arise from the fact of the tide being high? If so, is the tide sometimes higher than usual, as the--ahem!--odours certainly are? * * * * * [Illustration: PERIL! _Gruff Voice_ (_behind her--she thought she heard her own name_). "She's a gettin' old, Bill, and she sartain'y ain't no beauty! But you and I'll smarten her up! Give her a good tarrin' up to the waist, and a streak o' paint, and they 'ont know her again when the folks come down a' Whitsun'. Come along, and let's ketch 'old of her, and shove her into the water fust of all!!" _Miss Isabella._ "Oh! the horrid wretches! No policeman in sight! Nothing for it but flight!" [Is off like a bird! ] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS There were even then quiet spots by the sea where one could be alone with Nature undisturbed] * * * * * [Illustration: A SENSE OF PROPERTY _Botanical Old Gent_ (_in the Brighton Gardens_). "Can you tell me, my good man, if this plant belongs to the 'Arbutus' family?" _Gardener_ (_curtly_). "No, sir, it doan't. It b'longs to the Corporation!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MINOR ILLS OF LIFE Portrait of a gentleman attempting to regain his tent after the morning bath] * * * * * [Illustration: MERMAIDS' TOILETS IN '67 _Blanche._ "I say, some of you, call after aunty! She has taken my _chignon_, and left me her horrid black one!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOW TIDE ON SCARBOROUGH SANDS--BATHING UNDER DIFFICULTIES The captain, who is well up in his classics, translates, for his Fanny's benefit, a celebrated Latin poem (by one Lucretius) to the effect that it is sweet to gaze from the cliff at the bathing machines vainly struggling to take the unfortunate bathers into deep water.] * * * * * [Illustration: SEASIDE PUZZLE To find your bathing-machine if you've forgotten the number] * * * * * [Illustration: VENUS (ANNO DOMINI 1892) RISES FROM THE SEA!!] * * * * * SEASIDE DRAMA.--_Mrs. de Tomkyns_ (_sotto voce, to Mr. de T._). "Ludovic, dear, there's Algernon playing with a strange child! _Do_ prevent it!" _Mr. de T._ (_ditto, to Mrs. de T._). "How on earth am I to prevent it, my love?" _Mrs. de T._ "Tell its parents Algernon is just recovering from scarlet fever, or something!" _Mr. de T._ "But it isn't true!" _Mrs. de T._ "Oh, never mind! Tell them, all the same!" _Mr. de T._ (_aloud_). "Ahem! Sir, you'd better not let your little girl play with my little boy. He's only just recovering from--er--_Scarlet Fever_!" _Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins_ (_together_). "It's all right, sir!--_so's our little gal!_" * * * * * [Illustration: MIXED BATHING _Fussy Landlady_ (_to new Lodger_). "Well, sir, if you'll only tell me when you want a bath, _I'll see you have it_."] * * * * * BY THE SEASIDE (_A Gasp and a Growl from Paterfamilias Fogey_) [Illustration] In for it here, Six weeks or more, Once every year (Yah, what a bore!) Daughters and wife Force me to bide Mad to "see life" By the seaside! Go out of town What if we do? Hither comes down All the world too; Vanity Fair, Fashion and Pride, Seeking fresh air By the seaside. Drest up all hands-- Raiment how dear!-- Down on the sands, Out on the Pier, Pace to and fro, See, as at Ryde, Off how they show By the seaside! Fops and fine girls, Swarm, brisk as bees; Ribbons and curls Float on the breeze; Females and males Eye and are eyed; Ogling prevails By the seaside! Daughters may see Some fun in that. Wife, how can she, Grown old and fat? Scene I survey But to deride, Idle display By the seaside. Views within reach, Picturesque scenes, Rocks on the beach, Bathing machines, Shingle and pools, Left by the tide, Youth, far from schools, By the seaside. Artists may sketch, Draw and design, Pencil, or etch; Not in my line. Money, no end, Whilst I am tied Here, I must spend, By the seaside! * * * * * [Illustration: _Snooks_ (_to new acquaintance_). "Tell yer what, look in one evenin' and 'ave a bit of supper, if you don't mind 'avin it in the kitchen. Yer see, we're plain people, and don't put on no side. Of course, I know as a toff like you 'ud 'ave it in the _drawing-room_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TORQUAY (TALKEY)] * * * * * [Illustration: HASTINGS] * * * * * [Illustration: GENTILITY IN GREENS _Mrs. Brown finds Sandymouth a very different place from what she remembers it years ago._ _Greengrocer._ "Cabbage, mum!? We don't keep no second-class vegetables, mum. You'll get it at the lower end o' the town!"] * * * * * SEASIDE VIEWS [Illustration: KINGSWEAR] _Tom Jones_ (_in love_). The most heavenly place I ever was in. The sun is warmer, the sky bluer, the sea the calmest I ever knew. Joy sparkles on every pebble; Art spreads its welcome arms through every spray of seaweed. True happiness encircles me on every breeze, and Beauty is by my side. _Old Jones._ Beastly slow. All sea and sky, and ugly round stones. You can't bask in the sun because there is none--it's always raining--and because the flints worry your back. Confound the children, scraping up the wet sand and smelling seaweeds! It must be time for them to go to bed or to lessons or something. Wherever you sit there is sure to be a draught, and such heaps of old women you can't put your legs up on the seat. Hang it all, there isn't a young girl in the place, let alone pretty ones. [Illustration: O-SHUN SHELLS!] _Young Brown_ (_waiting for a Commission_). Awfully dull. Quite too excessively detestable. Not a fellow to talk to, you know, who knows anything about the Leger, or draw-poker, or modern education, you know. Can't get introduced to Lady Tom Peeper. Nobody to do it. Wish my moustache would curl. Pull it all day, you know, but it won't come. Lady Tom smiled, on the Parade to-day. Got very red, but I shall smile too to-morrow. A man must do something in this dreadful place. _Major Brown_ (_Heavies_). Not half bad kind of diggings. Quite in clover. Found Lydia here--I mean Lady Tom Peeper. Horribly satirical woman, though. Keeps one up to the mark. I shall have to read up to keep pace with her. I shouldn't like to be chaffed by her. Better friend than enemy. Poor Tom Peeper! he must have a bad time of it! Can't say "Bo" to a gosling. And she knows it. That's why he never comes down here. Coast clear. Fancy she's rather sweet on me. By Jove! we had a forty-mile-an-hour-express flirtation before her marriage! Must take care what I'm about now. Mustn't have a collision with Tom--good old man, after all, if he is a fool. Take this note round, Charles, to the same place. [Illustration: A CUTTER ON THE BEECH] _Mrs. Robinson_ (_Materfamilias_). Scarcely room to swing a cot, for baby. Thank goodness, all the children are on the beach. I hope Mary Ann won't let out to the other nurses that Totty had the scarlet fever. He's quite well now, poor little man, and no one will be any the worse for it. Horrid! of course. No, it is not a Colorado beetle, Robinson. They infest the curtains; we did not bring them with us in our trunks. Do go out and buy some insect-powder, instead of looking stupid behind that nasty cigar. Oh, and get some soap and some tooth-powder, and order baby's tonic, and Jane's iron--mind, sesqui-sulphate of iron (I suppose I must find the prescription), and a box of--what's that stuff for sore throats? And do hire a perambulator with a hood. And we have no dessert for to-morrow--you know, or you ought to know, it's Sunday. Some fruit, and what you like. Oh! and don't forget some biscuits for the dog. What has become of Tiny? Tiny! Tiny! I know he did not go with the children. I dare say he has eaten something horrid, and is dying under a chair. Dear! dear! who would be mother of a family with such a careless, thoughtless, quite too utterly selfish husband as you are. Of course you never remembered to-day was my birthday. I ought never to have been born. A bracelet or a pair of ear-rings--or, by the way, I saw a lovely châtelaine on the Parade. You might find enough to give me one pleasure since our wedding. _Robinson_ (_Paterfamilias_). I like the seaside, I do. When will it be over? * * * * * [Illustration: A SANDY COVE] * * * * * [Illustration: A FRAGMENT Augustus knows a certain snug retreat-- A little rocky cavern by the sea-- Where, sheltered from the rain (and every eye), He fondly hopes to breathe his tale of love Into his artless Arabella's ear!...] * * * * * [Illustration: LONGING FOR A NEW SENSATION _Jack_ (_a naughty boy, who is always in disgrace, and most deservedly_). "I say, Effie, do you know what I should like? I should like to be accused of something I'd never done!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A LAMENT _Dowager._ "It's been the worst season I can remember, Sir James! All the men seem to have got married, and none of the girls!"] * * * * * [Illustration: JOYS OF THE SEASIDE _Brown._ "What beastly weather! And the glass is going steadily down!" _Local Tradesman._ "Oh, that's nothing, sir. The glass has no effect whatever on _our_ part of the coast!"] * * * * * THE BETTER THE DAY, THE BETTER THE TALK! [Illustration: BROAD-STARES] SCENE--_Any fashionable Watering-place where "Church Parade" is a recognised institution._ TIME--_Sunday_, 1 P.M. _Enter_ Brown _and_ Mrs. Brown, _who take chairs_. _Mrs. Brown._ Good gracious! Look another way! Those odious people, the Stiggingses, are coming towards us! _Brown._ Why odious? I think the girls rather nice. _Mrs. B._ (_contemptuously_). Oh, _you_ would, because men are so easily taken in! Nice, indeed! Why, here's Major Buttons. _B._ (_moving his head sharply to the right_). Don't see him! Can't stand the fellow! I always avoid him at the Club! _Mrs. B._ Why? Soldiers are always such pleasant men. _B._ (_contemptuously_). Buttons a soldier! Years ago he was a Lieutenant in a marching regiment, and now holds honorary rank in the Volunteers! Soldier, indeed! Bless me! here's Mrs. Fitz-Flummery--mind you don't cut her. _Mrs. B._ Yes, I shall; the woman is unsupportable. Did you ever see _such_ a dress. And she has changed the colour of her hair--again! _B._ Whether she has or hasn't, she looks particularly pleasing. _Mrs. B._ (_drily_). You were always a little eccentric in your taste! Why, surely there must be Mr. Pennyfather Robson. How smart he looks! Where _can_ he have come from? _B._ The Bankruptcy Court! (_Drily._) You were never particularly famous for discrimination. As I live, the Plantagenet Smiths! [_He bows with effusion._ _Mrs. B._ And the Stuart Joneses. (_She kisses her hand gushingly_). By the way, dear, didn't you say that the Plantagenet Smiths were suspected of murdering their uncle before they inherited his property? _B._ So it is reported, darling. And didn't you tell me, my own, that the parents of Mr. Stuart Jones were convicts before they became millionaires? _Mrs. B._ So I have heard, loved one. (_Starting up._) Come, Charley, we must be off at once! The Goldharts! If they catch us, _she_ is sure to ask me to visit some of her sick poor! _B._ And _he_ to beg me to subscribe to an orphanage or a hospital! Here, take your prayer-book, or people won't know that we have come from church! [_Exeunt hurriedly._ * * * * * [Illustration: ROW ME O!] * * * * * [Illustration: CURLEW] * * * * * AT SCARBOROUGH.--_Miss Araminta Dove._ Why do they call this the Spa? _Mr. Rhino-Ceros._ Oh! I believe the place was once devoted to boxing exhibitions. [_Miss A.D. as wise as ever._ * * * * * [Illustration: "BY THE SAD SEA WAVES" _Landlady_ (_who has just presented her weekly bill_). "I 'ope, ma'am, as you find the bracing hair agree with you, ma'am, and your good gentleman, ma'am!" _Lady._ "Oh, yes, our appetites are wonderfully improved! For instance, at home we only eat two loaves a day, and I find, from your account, that we can manage eight!" [_Landlady feels uncomfortable._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: RATHER DIFFICULT "Oh, I say, here comes that dismal bore, Bulkley! Let's pretend _we don't see him_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PESSIMISM _Artist_ (_irritated by the preliminaries of composition and the too close proximity of an uninteresting native_). "I think you needn't wait any longer. There's really nothing to look at just now." _Native._ "Ay, an' I doot there'll _never_ be muckle to look at there!"] * * * * * THE DONKEY-BOYS OF ENGLAND (_A Song for the Seaside_) [Illustration] The Donkey-Boys of England, how merrily they fly, With pleasant chaff upon the tongue and cunning in the eye. And oh! the donkeys in a mass how patiently they stand, High on the heath of Hampstead, or down on Ramsgate's sand. The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they reprove The brute that won't "come over", with an impressive shove; And oh! the eel-like animals, how gracefully they swerve From side to side, but won't advance to spoil true beauty's curve. The Donkey-Boys of England, how manfully they fight, When a probable donkestrian comes suddenly in sight; From nurse's arms the babies are clutch'd with fury wild, And on a donkey carried off the mother sees her child. The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they defy The pleadings of a parent's shriek, the infant's piercing cry; As a four-year-old MAZEPPA is hurried from the spot, Exposed to all the tortures of a donkey's fitful trot. The Donkey-Boys of England, how lustily they scream, When they strive to keep together their donkeys in a team; And the riders who are anxious to be class'd among genteels, Have a crowd of ragged Donkey-boys "hallooing" at their heels. The Donkey-Boys of England, how well they comprehend The animal to whom they act as master, guide, and friend; The understanding that exists between them who'll dispute-- Or that the larger share of it falls sometimes to the brute? * * * * * [Illustration: THE JETTY] * * * * * SEASIDE ACQUAINTANCES (SCENE--The Shady Side of Pall Mall).--_Snob._ My Lord, you seem to forget me. Don't you recollect our meeting this summer at Harrogate? _Swell._ My dear fellow, I do not forget it in the least. I recollect vividly we swore eternal friendship at Harrogate, and should it be my fate to meet you at Harrogate next year, I shall only be too happy to swear it again. [_Lifts his chapeau, and leaves Snob in a state of the most speechless amazement._ * * * * * [Illustration: Portrait of a gentleman who sent his wife and family to the seaside, followed by a later train, and left their address behind. [_Sketched after five hours' futile search for them._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A VOICE FROM THE SEA "O let me kiss him for his mother!"] * * * * * REASONS FOR GOING TO BRIGHTON (_By the Cynic who stays in London_) [Illustration: "HA! RICH!"] Because "everybody" is there, and it is consequently so pleasant to see St. John's Wood, Bayswater, and even Belgravia, so well represented on the Esplanade. Because the shops in the King's Road are _nearly_ as good as those to be found in Regent Street. Because the sea does not _always_ look like the Thames at Greenwich in a fog. Because some of the perambulating bands play very nearly in tune. Because the Drive from the Aquarium to the New Pier is quite a mile in length, and only grows monotonous after the tenth turn. Because watching fish confined in tanks is such rollicking fun. Because the Hebrews are so numerously represented on the Green. Because the Clubs are so inexpensive and select. Because the management of the Grand is so very admirable. Because it is so pleasant to follow the Harriers on a hired hack in company with other hired hacks. Because the half-deserted Skating Rinks are so very amusing. Because it is so nice to hear second-rate scandal about third-rate people. Because the place is not always being visited by the scarlet fever. Because it is so cheerful to see the poor invalids taking their morning airing in their bath-chairs. Because the streets are paraded by so many young gentlemen from the City. Because the Brighton belles look so ladylike in their quiet Ulsters and unpretending hats. Because the suburbs are so very cheerful in the winter, particularly when it snows or rains. Because on every holiday the Railway Company brings down such a very nice assortment of excursionists to fill the streets. Because Brighton in November is so very like Margate in July. Because, if you did not visit Brighton, you might so very easily go farther and fare worse. * * * * * [Illustration: WESTON-SUPER-MARE] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--BY THE SAD SEA WAVES _Tomkins, disconsolate on a rock, traces some characters upon the sand._ _To him, Mrs. Tomkins_ (_whose name is Martha_). _Mrs. T._ "Well, Mr. Tomkins, and pray who may Henrietta be?" [_Tomkins utters a yell of despair, and falls prostrate._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION "What does t'lass want wi' yon _boostle_ for? It aren't big enough to _smoggle_ things, and she can't _steer_ herself wi' it!"] * * * * * THE TRIPPER (_By a Resident_) What does he come for? What does he want? Why does he wander thus Careworn and gaunt? Up street and down street with Dull vacant stare, Hither and thither, it Don't matter where? What does he mean by it? Why does he come Hundreds of miles to prowl, Weary and glum, Blinking at Kosmos with Lack-lustre eye? He doesn't enjoy it, he Don't even try! Sunny or soaking, it's All one to him, Wandering painfully-- Curious whim! Gazing at china-shops. Gaping at sea, Guzzling at beer-shops, or Gorging at tea. Why don't he stay at home, Save his train fare, Soak at his native beer, Sunday clothes wear? No one would grudge it him, No one would jeer. Why does he come away? Why is he here? * * * * * [Illustration: BLACKPOOL] * * * * * [Illustration: BRIGHTON] * * * * * [Illustration: MARGATE] * * * * * [Illustration: A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING _Landlady._ "I hope you slept well, sir?" _New Boarder._ "No, I didn't. I've been troubled with insomnia." _Landlady._ "Look here, young man. I'll give you a sovereign for every one you find in that bed!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TOUCHING APPEAL _Testy Old Gent._ (_wearied by the importunities of the Brighton boatmen_). "Confound it, man! Do I _look_ as if I wanted a boat?"] * * * * * ROBERT AT THE SEASIDE I've bin spending my long Wacation of a fortnite at Northgate. Northgate's a nice quiet place, Northgate is, tho' it quite fails in most things that constitoots reel injoyment at the seaside, such as Bands and Niggers and Minstrels and all that. It's a grand place for weather, for it generally blows hard at Northgate, and wen it doesn't blow hard it rains hard, which makes a nice change, and a change is wot we all goes to the seaside for. It seems a werry favrite place for inwaleeds, for the place is full on 'em, Bath cheers is in great demand and all the seats on the Prade is allus occypied by 'em. Dr. Scratchem too sends most of his favrite cases there, and you can't walk on the Peer without facing lots on 'em. Brown says the place makes him as sollem as a Common Cryer, and he hasn't had a good hearty larf since he came here, but then Brown isn't quite sattisfied with his Lodgings, and has acshally recommended his Land Lady to turn her house into the Norfolk Howard Hotel, _Unlimited_, so perhaps she may account for his want of spirits. Northgate's rather a rum place as regards the tide. Wen it's eye it comes all over the place and makes such a jolly mess, and wen it's low it runs right out to sea and you can't see it. Brown tried to persuade me as how as one werry eye tide was a spring tide, but as it was in September I wasn't so green as to beleeve that rubbish. It seems quite a pet place for Artists, I mean Sculpchers, at least I s'pose they must be Sculpchers, and that they brings their Moddels with 'em, for the Bathing Machines is stuck close to the Peer, so dreckly after breakfast the Moddels goes and bathes in the Sea, and the Sculpchers goes on the Peer, and there's nothink to divert their attention from their interesting studdys, and many on 'em passes ours there quietly meditating among the Bathing Machines. Brown says, in his sarcastic way, it's the poor Sculpchers as comes here, who can't afford to pay for their Moddels, so they comes here and gets 'em free gratis for nothink. There's sum werry nice walks in the nayberhood but I never walks 'em, for it seems to me that the grate joke of every Buysicler and Trysicler, and the place swarms with 'em, is to cum quietly behind you and see how close he can go by you without nocking you down. I'm sure the jumps and the starts and the frites as I had the fust day or too kep my Art in my mouth till I thort it would have choked me. How Ladys, reel Ladys too, can expose theirselves on such things I can't make out. I herd a young Swell say that wot with them and what with the Bathing Moddels it was as good as a Burlesk! We've got werry cumferrabel Lodgings, we have, just opposite the Gas Works and near a Brick Field. When the wind is South or West we smells the bricks and when its East we smells the Gas, but when its doo North we don't smell nuffen excep just a trifle from the Dranes, and so long as we keeps quite at the end of the werry long Peer we don't smell nuffen at all excep the sea weed. Our Landlord's a werry respeckabel man and the Stoker on our little Railway, and so werry fond of nussing our little children that they are allus as black as young Sweeps. Their gratest treat is to go with him to the Stashun and stand on the ingin when they are shuntin, so preshus little they gits of the sea breezes. We've had a fust rate Company staying here. I've seen no less than 2 Aldermen, and 1 Warden of a City Compny, but they didn't stay long. I don't think the living was good enuff for 'em. It must be a werry trying change, from every luxery that isn't in season, to meer beef and mutton and shrimps! and those rayther course. I think our Boatmen is about the lazyest set of fellows as ever I seed. So far from begging on you to have a soft Roe with the Tide, or a hard Roe against it, they makes all sorts of egscewses for not taking you, says they're just a going to dinner, or they thinks the wind's a gitting up, or there ain't enough water! Not enuff water in the Sea to flote a Bote! wen any one could see as there was thousands of galluns there. I saw some on 'em this mornin bringin in sum fish, and asked the price of a pair of Souls, but they axshally said they didn't dare sell one, for every man Jack of 'em must be sent to Billingsgate! but werry likely sum on 'em might be sent back again in the arternoon, and then I could get some at the Fishmonger's! What a nice derangemunt! There was the butiful fresh fish reddy for eating, there was me and my family reddy to eat 'em, but no, they must be packed in boxes and carried to the Station and then sent by Rale to London, and then sent by Wan to Billingsgate, and that takes I'm told ever so many hours, and then carried back to the London Stashun, and then sent by Rale to Northgate, and then carried from the Stashun to the Fishmonger's, and then I'm allowed to buy 'em! Well if that isn't a butiful business like arrangement, my Lord Mare, I should like to know what is. However, as I wunce herd a Deputy say, when things cums to their wust, things is sure to mend, and I don't think that things can be much wusser than that. (_Signed_) ROBERT. * * * * * [Illustration: LIGHT PUFFS RAISED A LITTLE SWELL] * * * * * [Illustration: HEAVY SWELL ON THE BAR] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BELL BUOY] * * * * * THE SPIRIT OF THE THING.--_Landlady_ (_to shivering lodger_). No, sir, I don't object to your dining at a restorong, nor to your taking an 'apenny paper, but I must resent your constant 'abit of locking up your whiskey, thereby himplying that me, a clergyman's daughter, is prone to larceny. [_Lodger immediately hands her the key as a guarantee of good faith._ * * * * * [Illustration: THE BORES OF THE BEACH So! as it's a fine day, you'll sit on the beach and read the paper comfortably, will you? Very good! Then we recommend you to get what guinea-pigs, brandy-balls, boats, and children's socks, to say nothing of shell-workboxes, lace collars, and the like you may want, before you settle down.] * * * * * [Illustration: "Excuse me, sir. I seem to have met you before. Are you not a relative of Mr. Dan Briggs?" "No, madam. I _am_ Mr. Dan Briggs himself." "Ah, then that explains the remarkable resemblance!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ACCOMMODATING _Lodger._ "And then, there's that cold pheasant, Mrs. Bilkes"---- _Landlady._ "Yes'm, and if you should have enough without it, lor', Mr. Bilkes wouldn't mind a eatin' of it for his supper, if that's all."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Brown._ "Might I ask how much you gave that nigger?" _Mr. Brown_ (_first day down_). "Sixpence." _Mrs. B._ "Oh, indeed! Perhaps, sir, you are not aware that your wife and family have listened to those same niggers for the last ten days for a _penny_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PLEASURES OF THE SEASIDE _Mermaiden._ "I am told you keep a circulating library?" _Librarian._ "Yes, miss. _There_ it is! Subscription, two shillings a-week; one volume at a time; change as often as you please! Would you like to see a catalogue?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INFORMAL INTRODUCTION _Polite Little Girl_ (_suddenly_). "This is my mamma, sir. Will you please sing her, 'It's the seasoning wot does it!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUT OF TOWN (UNFASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE) _Visitor._ "What a roaring trade the hotels will be doing, with all these holiday folk!" _Head waiter at The George._ "Lor bless yer, sir, no! They all bring their nosebags with 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SEASIDE STUDIES _Wandering Minstrel._ "Gurls! I'm a doocid fine cha-appie!" &c., &c.] * * * * * [Illustration: Wiggles and Sprott prefer bathing from the beach to having a stuffy machine. They are much pleased with the delicate little attention indicated above!] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUIET DRIVE BY THE SEA A Brighton bath-chairman's idea of a suitable route for an invalid lady] * * * * * A SEASIDE ROUNDEL On the sands as loitering I stand Where my point of view the scene commands, I survey the prospect fair and grand On the sands. Niggers, half a dozen German bands, Photographic touts, persistent, bland, Chiromancers reading dirty hands, Nursemaids, children, preachers, skiffs that land Trippers with cigars of fearful brands, Donkeys--everything, in short, but sand-- On the sands. * * * * * [Illustration: THE LETTER BUT NOT THE SPIRIT Old Mr. de Cramwell, being bilious and out of sorts, is ordered to go to the sea, and take plenty of exercise in the open air. (He begins at once.)] * * * * * COMMON OBJECTS OF THE SEASHORE. [Illustration: TAKING A ROW] The "disguised minstrel", believed by the public to be a peer of the realm collecting coin for a charity, but who is in reality the sentimental singer from a perambulating troop of nigger banjoists, "working on his own." The preacher whose appreciation of the value of logic and the aspirate is on a par. The intensely military young man whose occupation during eleven months in the year is the keeping of ledgers in a small city office. The artist who guarantees a pleasing group of lovers for sixpence, frame included. The band that consists of a cornet, a trombone, a clarionet, some bass, and a big drum, which is quite as effective (thanks to the trombone) when all the principals have deserted in search of coppers. And last (and commonest of all) the cockney who, after a week's experience of the discomforts of the seaside, is weary of them, and wants to go home. * * * * * A WINDY CORNER AT BRIGHTON (_By an Impressionist_) Old lady first, with hair like winter snows, Makes moan. And struggles. Then, with cheeks too richly rose, A crone, Gold hair, new teeth, white powder on her nose; All bone And skin; an "Ancient Mystery", like those Of Hone. Then comes a girl; sweet face that freshly glows! Well grown. The neat cloth gown her supple figure shows Now thrown In lines of beauty. Last, in graceless pose, Half prone, A luckless lout, caught by the blast, one knows His tone Means oaths; his hat, straight as fly crows, Has flown. I laugh at him, and----Hi! By Jove, there goes My own! * * * * * ON THE SANDS (_A Sketch at Margate_) _Close under the Parade wall a large circle has been formed, consisting chiefly of Women on chairs and camp-stools, with an inner ring of small Children, who are all patiently awaiting the arrival of a troupe of Niggers. At the head of one of the flights of steps leading up to the Parade, a small and shrewish Child-nurse is endeavouring to detect and recapture a pair of prodigal younger Brothers, who have given her the slip._ _Sarah_ (_to herself_). Wherever can them two plegs have got to? (_Aloud; drawing a bow at a venture._) Albert! 'Enery! Come up 'ere this minnit. _I_ see yer! _'Enery_ (_under the steps--to Albert_). I say--d'ye think she _do_?--'cos if---- _Albert._ Not she! Set tight. [_They sit tight._ _Sarah_ (_as before_). 'Enery! Albert! You've bin and 'alf killed little Georgie between yer! _'Enery_ (_moved, to Albert_). Did you 'ear that, Bert? It wasn't _me_ upset him--was it now? _Albert_ (_impenitent_). 'Oo cares? The Niggers'll be back direckly. _Sarah._ Al-bert! 'Enery! Your father's bin down 'ere once after you. You'll _ketch_ it! _Albert_ (_sotto voce_). Not till father ketches _us_, we shan't. Keep still, 'Enery--we're all right under 'ere! _Sarah_ (_more diplomatically_). 'Enery! Albert! Father's bin and left a 'ap'ny apiece for yer. Ain't yer comin' up for it? If yer don't want it, why, stay where you are, that's all! _Albert_ (_to 'Enery_). I _knoo_ we 'adn't done nothin'. An' I'm goin' up to git that 'ap'ny, I am. _'Enery._ So 'm I. [_They emerge, and ascend the steps--to be pounced upon immediately by the ingenious Sarah._ _Sarah._ 'Ap'ny, indeed! You won't git no 'apence _'ere_, I can tell yer--so jest you come along 'ome with me! [_Exeunt Albert and 'Enery, in captivity, as the Niggers enter the circle._ _Bones._ We shall commence this afternoon by 'olding our Grand Annual Weekly Singing Competition, for the Discouragement of Youthful Talent. Now then, which is the little gal to step out first and git a medal? (_The Children giggle, but remain seated._) Not one? Now I arsk _you_--What _is_ the use o' me comin' 'ere throwin' away thousands and thousands of pounds on golden medals, if you won't take the trouble to stand up and sing for them? Oh, you'll make me so wild, I shall begin spittin' 'alf-sovereigns directly--I _know_ I shall! (_A little Girl in a sun-bonnet comes forward._) Ah, 'ere's a young lady who's bustin' with melody, _I_ can see. Your name, my dear? Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to announce that Miss Connie Cockle will now appear. Don't curtsey till the Orchestra gives the chord. (_Chord from the harmonium--the Child advances, and curtsies with much aplomb._) Oh, lor! call _that_ a curtsey--that's a _cramp_, that is! Do it all over again! (_The Child obeys, disconcerted._) That's _worse_! I can see the s'rimps blushin' for yer inside their paper bags! Now see Me do it. (_Bones executes a caricature of a curtsey, which the little Girl copies with terrible fidelity._) That's _ladylike_--that's genteel. Now sing _out_! (_The Child sings the first verse of a popular music-hall song, in a squeaky little voice._) Talk about nightingales! Come 'ere, and receive the reward for extinguished incapacity. On your knees! (_The little Girl kneels before him while a tin medal is fastened upon her frock._) Rise, Sir Connie Cockle! Oh, you _lucky_ girl! [_The Child returns, swelling with triumph, to her companions, several of whom come out, and go through the same performance, with more or less squeakiness and self-possession._ _First Admiring Matron_ (_in audience_). I do like to see the children kep' out o' mischief like this, instead o' goin' paddling and messing about the sands! _Second Ad. Mat._ Just what _I_ say, my dear--they're amused and edjucated 'ow to beyave at the same time! _First Politician_ (_with the "Standard"_). No, but look here--when Gladstone was asked in the House whether he proposed to give the Dublin Parliament the control of the police, what was his answer. Why.... _The Niggers_ (_striking up chorus_). "'Rum-tumty diddly-umty doodah-dey! Rum-tumty-diddly-um was all that he could say. And the Members and the Speaker joined together in the lay. Of 'Rum-tumty-diddly-umty doodah-dey!'" _Second Pol._ (_with the "Star"_). Well, and what more would you have _'ad_ him say? Come, now! _Alf_ (_who has had quite enough ale at dinner--to his fiancée_). These Niggers ain't up to much Loo. Can't sing for _nuts_! _Chorley_ (_his friend, perfidiously_). You'd better go in and show 'em how, old man. Me and Miss Serge'll stay and see you take the shine out of 'em! _Alf._ P'raps you think I can't. But, if I was to go upon the 'Alls now, I should make my fortune in no time! Loo's 'eard me when I've been in form, and she'll tell you---- _Miss Serge._ Well, I will say there's many a professional might learn a lesson from Alf--whether Mr. Perkins believes it or not. [_Cuttingly, to "Chorley"._ _Chorley._ Now reelly, Miss Loo, don't come down on a feller like that. I want to see him do you credit, that's all, and he couldn't 'ave a better opportunity to distinguish himself--now _could_ he? _Miss Serge._ _I'm_ not preventing him. But I don't know--these Niggers keep themselves very select, and they might object to it. _Alf._ I'll soon square _them_. You keep your eye on me, and I'll make things a bit livelier! [_He enters the circle._ _Miss Serge_ (_admiringly_). He has got a cheek, I must say! Look at him, dancing there along with those two Niggers--they don't hardly know what to make of him yet! _Chorley._ Do you notice how they keep kicking him beyind on the sly like? I wonder he puts up with it! _Miss S._ He'll be even with them presently--you see if he isn't. [_Alf attempts to twirl a tambourine on his finger, and lets it fall; derision from audience; Bones pats him on the head and takes the tambourine away--at which Alf only smiles feebly._ _Chorley._ It's a pity he gets so 'ot dancing, and he don't seem to keep in step with the others. _Miss S._ (_secretly disappointed_). He isn't used to doing the double-shuffle on sand, that's all. _The Conductor._ Bones, I observe we have a recent addition to our company. Perhaps he'll favour us with a solo. (_Aside to Bones._) 'Oo _is_ he? 'Oo let him in 'ere--_you_? _Bones._ _I_ dunno. I thought _you_ did. Ain't he stood nothing? _Conductor._ Not a brass farden! _Bones_ (_outraged_). All right, you leave him to me. (_To Alf._) Kin it be? That necktie! them familiar coat-buttons! that paper-dicky! You are--you _are_ my long-lost convick son, 'ome from Portland! Come to these legs! (_He embraces Alf, and smothers him with kisses._) Oh, you've been and rubbed off some of your cheek on my complexion--you _dirty_ boy! (_He playfully "bashes" Alf's hat in._) Now show the comp'ny how pretty you can sing. (_Alf attempts a music-hall ditty, in which he, not unnaturally, breaks down._) It ain't my son's fault, Ladies and Gentlemen, it's all this little gal in front here, lookin' at him and makin' him shy! (_To a small Child, severely._) You oughter know _worse_, you ought! (_Clumps of seaweed and paper-balls are thrown at Alf who by this time is looking deplorably warm and foolish._) Oh, what a popilar fav'rite he is, to be sure! _Chorley_ (_to Miss S._). Poor fellow, he ain't no match for those Niggers--not like he is now! Hadn't I better go to the rescue, Miss Loo? _Miss S._ (_pettishly_). I'm sure I don't care _what_ you do. [_"Chorley" succeeds, after some persuasion, in removing the unfortunate Alf._ _Alf_ (_rejoining his fiancée with a grimy face, a smashed hat, and a pathetic attempt at a grin_). Well? I _done_ it, you see! _Miss S._ (_crushingly_). Yes, you _have_ done it! And the best thing you can do now, is to go home and wash your face. _I_ don't care to be seen about with a _laughing-stock_, I can assure you! I've had my dignity lowered quite enough as it is! _Alf._ But look 'ere, my dear girl, I can't leave you here all by yourself you know! _Miss S._ I dare say Mr. Perkins will take care of me. [_Mr. P. assents, with effusion._ _Alf_ (_watching them move away--with bitterness_). I wish all Niggers were put down by Act of Parliament, I do! Downright noosances--that's what _they_ are! * * * * * [Illustration: STOPPING AT A WATERING PLACE] * * * * * [Illustration: EAST-BORN] * * * * * [Illustration: WEST-BORN] * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: TAKING IN SAIL] * * * * * DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS.--_Young Housekeeper._ "I'm afraid those soles I bought of you yesterday were not fresh. My husband said they were not nice at all!" _Brighton Fisherman._ "Well, marm, that be your fault--it bean't mine. I've offered 'em yer every day this week, and you might a' 'ad 'em o' Monday if you'd a loiked!" * * * * * AT MARGATE.--_Angelina_ (_very poetical, surveying the rolling ocean_). "Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink." _Edwin_ (_very practical_). No drink! Now, hang it all, Angy, if I've asked you once I've asked you three times within the last five minutes to come and do a split soda and whiskey! And _I_ can do with it! * * * * * [Illustration: THE LAST DAY AT THE SEASIDE--PACKING UP _Maid_ (_to Paterfamilias_). "Please, sir, missus say you're to come in, and sit on the boxes; because we can't get 'em to, and they wants to be corded."] * * * * * [Illustration: _The General._ "And what are you going to be when you grow up, young man?" _Bobbie._ "Well, I can't quite make up my mind. I don't know which would be nicest--a soldier, like you, or a sailor, like Mr. Smithers."] * * * * * [Illustration: "THEM ARTISES!" _Lady Artist._ "Do you belong to that ship over there?" _Sailor._ "Yes, miss." _Lady Artist._ "Then would you mind loosening all those ropes? They are much too tight, and, besides, I can't draw straight lines!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE DISORDER OF THE BATH] How Belinda Brown appeared with "waves all over her hair" before taking a bath in the sea--and How she looked after having some more "waves all over it."] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTION TO BATHERS Don't let them jolt you up the beach till you are dressed. _Jones_ (_obliged to hold fast_). "Hullo! Hi! Somebody stop my boots!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A FIX _Separated husband._ "Fetch him out, sir!" _Proprietor of moke._ "Why, if I went near her, she'd lie down; she always goes in just before high water; nothing'll fetch her out till the tide turns!"] * * * * * THE HUSBANDS' BOAT, A MARGATE MELODY See! what craft Margate Harbour displays, There are luggers and cutters and yawls, They sail upon sunshiny days, For land-sailors arn't partial to squalls. There's Paterfamilias takes out the lot Of the progeny he may own, But the Saturday Evening boat has got A freight that is hers alone. By far the most precious of craft afloat, Is the Saturday Evening "Husbands' Boat". There are husbands with luggage, and husbands with none, There are husbands with parcels in hand, They bring down to wives whom they lately have won, Who pretty attentions command. There are husbands who know whate'er time it may be Their wives on the jetty will wait For that Hymeneal argosy, With its matrimonial freight. Oh! the most precious of craft afloat Is the Saturday Evening "Husbands' Boat". But the Monday Morning is "Monday black", That when at school we knew, For the husbands to business must all go back, And the wives look monstrous blue; So loud the bell rings, and the steamer starts On her way to Thames Haven again, And amid those who leave are as many sad hearts, As there are amid those who remain. Coming or going of craft afloat, The most prized one is the "Husbands' Boat". * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS! (THE END OF THE SEASON.)] * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] * * * * * BRADBURY, AGNEW & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
38586	----	MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOUR [Illustration] * * * * * PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * [Illustration: ONE OF NATURE'S GALLANTS. _Loafer (to fair occupant on her way to Court)._ "Ullo, Ethel! All alone?"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOUR IN PICTURE AND STORY _WITH 133 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, L. RAVEN-HILL, TOM BROWNE, C. SHEPPERSON, E. T. REED, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, J. A. SHEPHERD, G. D. ARMOUR, GEORGE DU MAURIER, AND OTHERS [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages, fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN * * * * * [Illustration] EDITOR'S NOTE Cockney humour smacks, of course, of the town and makes up in smartness and shrewdness what it lacks in mellowness. The Cockney is as a rule a conscious humorist; you laugh _with_ him very often, whereas you nearly always laugh _at_ the rustic humorist. George Du Maurier concerned himself a good deal with Cockney character, but he was not in sympathy with the Cockney; generally he had an obvious contempt for him, and most of his jokes turn on the dropped H, the mispronounced word, and educational deficiencies. He portrays some of the Cockney's superficial characteristics; he despises him too much to be able to get at the heart of him and reveal his character. Take Phil May's pictures and jokes, and the difference is at once apparent. He was fully alive to the Cockney's deficiencies of manner and culture; now and then he quite genially and without the least touch of scorn or self-complacency makes fun of them; but he really gives you the Cockney character. Take, for instance, such a picture as his "Politics and Gallantry," his "I say, 'Arry, don't we look frights!" his "Informal Introduction"--(the self-consciousness of the girl's expression, and the blatant pride of the man's)--here, and in almost any of his drawings you turn to, you have the absolutely natural Cockney; his types are full of character and so true and free from condescension that not only are we moved irresistibly to laugh at them, but the Cockney himself would be the first to recognise their truth and to laugh joyously at them too. We may say pretty much the same of Charles Keene, of Mr. Raven-Hill, of Mr. Bernard Partridge, and of others of the "Punch" artists represented here, who illustrate the essential Cockney character, and do not go on the easy assumption that dropped H's and mispronounced words and aggressive vulgarity are the beginning and the end of it. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOUR "All's swell that ends swell," as 'Arry remarked when he purchased a pair of "misfits." * * * * * 'ARRY AND 'ARRIET'S FAVOURITE ITALIAN POET.--'Ariosto. * * * * * MOTHER WIT.--_First Coster._ I say, Bill, wot's the meanin' o' Congress? _Second Coster._ A shee heel. Female of conger. * * * * * A LONDONER'S RURAL REFLECTION.--The Hayfield is better than the Haymarket. * * * * * 'ARRY'S LAMENT "A public meeting was held at Hampstead last night to protest against the tampering with the Heath by tube railway promoters."--_Daily Paper._ Wot! Toobs on 'appy 'Amstid? A stytion at _Jack Strors_? I 'old the sime a bloomin' shim An' clean agin the lors, Leastwyes it oughter be-- If lors wos mide by me No toobs yer wouldn't see On 'appy 'Amstid. Wy, wheer are we ter go, Liz, Ter git a breath of air? Yer'll set yer teeth agin the 'eath When theer's a toob up there. A pinky-yaller stytion By wye o' deckyrytion-- I calls it desecrytion, 'Appy 'Amstid. Oh! sive us 'appy 'Amstid! It's Parrydise, you bet! Theer ain't no smoke ter 'arm a bloke. Nor yet no smuts as yet. An' so I 'opes they'll tell This bloomin' Yanky swell Ter send 'is toobs ter--well, Not 'appy 'Amstid! * * * * * [Illustration: THE WILD WILD EAST _First Coster._ "Say, Bill, 'ow d'yer like my new kickseys? Good fit, eh?" _Second Coster._ "Fit! They ain't no _fit_. They're a _haper-plictick stroke_!"] * * * * * NOTE BY A COCKNEY NATURALIST The common blackbeetles (_Scarabæus niger_) which so abundantly infest the culinary regions of Cockaigne are alleged to be agreeable, although profuse, in flavour, provided they be delicately larded before crimping, and then fricasseed or simply fried. Care should specially be taken not to injure their antennæ, which, when crisp with egg and breadcrumbs, exquisitely tickle the palate of the gourmet, and provoke him to the liveliest of gastronomic feats. There lurks in vulgar minds a savage prejudice against these interesting insects, by reason, very likely, of the popular impression that at times they have been manufactured into Soy. But this may be assumed to be mere idle superstition, and Soyer, the great _chef_, wisely set his face against it, remarking, as he did so, "_Honi Soy qui mal y pense._" Among the warblers which abound in the vicinity of the metropolis, one of the most interesting is the little mudlark (_Alauda Greenwichiensis_) whose plaintive cry may nightly be heard upon the shore of the river, where these little creatures congregate in flocks, and pick up any grub which they may chance to meet with. Doubts have been entertained by sundry Cockney naturalists whether the pyramids of oyster shells, which in the early part of August used to be noticed in the streets, should be regarded as a proof of the migratory habits of the mollusc. That the oyster is a sluggard and objects to leave his bed seems pretty generally admitted; but that he is endowed with the power of locomotion has, fortunately for science, been placed beyond a doubt. Whether oysters shed their shells when they are crossed in love is a point on which the naturalist is still somewhat in the dark. * * * * * SELF-EVIDENT.--It must have been a cockney who said that St. Bees came from St. 'Ives. * * * * * A DEAD LETTER.--Too often H. * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, Bill, 'ere comes two champion doners! Let's kid 'em 'at we're hofficers!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EPSOM UP TO DATE. _'Arry._ "Ain't ye comin' to see the 'orse run for yer money?" _Cholley._ "Not me! No bloomin' fear! I'm goin' to see this cove don't run _with_ my money!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ROYAL ALBERT HALL TO DAY AT 3 PATTI "I 'ear this 'ere Patti ain't _'arf_ bad!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Would you gentlemen like to look at the old church?" "Ho, yus. We're _nuts_ on old churches!"] * * * * * Quoth an eminent literary man, in the hearing of 'Arry, "All George Meredith's poetry might be republished under one title as 'Our Georgics.'" "Oo's 'Icks'?" asked 'Arry. * * * * * "THE TEACHING OF ERSE IN IRELAND."--"Well," says 'Arry, "it sounds uncommon funereal. O' course I knew an erse and plumes and coal black 'osses is what they call a 'moral lesson.' But why make such a fuss about it in Ireland?" * * * * * AN AWKWARD NAME.--'Arry, on a marine excursion, hearing mention made of the two sea-birds the great auk and the little auk, inquired if the little auk was a sparrow-'awk. * * * * * "He is the greatest liar on (H)earth," as the Cockney said of the lap-dog he often saw lying before the fire. * * * * * [Illustration: THE VERNACULAR. "Yer know that young Germin feller as come ter sty in our 'ouse six months agow? Well, w'en fust 'e come, I give yer my word'e didn' know nothink but 'is own lengwidge; but we bin learnin' 'im English, an' now e' can speak it puffick--jes' the sime as wot you an' me can."] * * * * * DINNER FOR THE H-LESS. GOOD EDUCATIONAL COURSE FOR AN UNEDUCATED COCKNEY.--An _aitch_-bone. * * * * * COCKNEYS AT ALDERSHOT.--_First Cockney._ "'Ere, 'Arry, where's the colonel?" _Second Cockney._ "The _colonel_, bless yer, 'e's in _an 'ut_." * * * * * HOUSEHOLD NOTE.--_(By a Cockney). What to do with cold mutton. H_eat it. * * * * * COCKNEY CONUNDRUM.--Wot lake in Hengland's got the glassiest buzzum? Windermere. * * * * * FOR CIVES ROMANI.--The way to 'Ampton races?--The 'Appy 'Un (Appian) of course. * * * * * [Illustration: _'Bus Conductor._ "Emmersmith! Emmersmith! 'Ere ye are Emmersmith!" _Liza Ann._ "Oo er yer callin' Emmer Smith? Sorcy 'ound!"] * * * * * [Illustration: POOR LETTER "A." "Do you sell type?"--"Type, sir? No, sir. This is an ironmonger's. You'll find type at the linendryper's over the w'y!" "I don't mean _tape_, man! _Type_, for _printing_!" "Oh, _toype_ yer mean! I beg yer pardon, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MYOPIA _Little Binks (to unsteady party who had lurched heavily against him)._ "I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I'm very short-sighted----" _Dissipated Stranger._ "Do' mensh't, shir--I've met goo' many shor' sight peopl'sh morn', bu' you're firsh gen'l'm'sh made 'shli'sht 'pology!"] * * * * * OUR 'ARRY AGAIN! 'Arry _is at a hotel where the boarding system prevails, and sees the following notice posted on the walls--"Breakfast, 9 a.m."_ _'Arry (to Waiter)._ "Breakfast, and some 'am." _Waiter._ "We've no 'am." _'Arry._ "No 'am! _(Pointing to notice.)_ What's that?" * * * * * _Says one 'Arry to another 'Arry._ "I say, old man, the papers say they 'ope 1882 will be the openin' of a new era. What's that?" _Second 'Arry._ "Openin' of a new 'earer? Why, a telephone, of course, you juggins!" * * * * * A SONG FOR COCKNEY SPORTSMEN The hart's in the Highlands, Of that there's no fear, And 'tis there you may buy lands For stalking the deer: But the hills are no trifle, And they're windy and cold, So your wish you'd best stifle, Or buy, and be--sold. * * * * * [Illustration: GOOD NEWS _'Arry._ "T'aint no good miking a fuss about it, yer know, guv'nor! Me and my pals must 'ave our 'd'y out'!" _Foreign Fellow-traveller._ "Aha! Die out! You go to die out? Mon Dieu! I am vairy glad to 'ear it. It is time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FORCE OF HABIT; OR, CITY SUSPICIONS _'Arry (who is foraging for his camping party)._ "Look here, my good woman, are these cabbages fresh?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Dobbs._ "Hullo! what's that? Looks like a mowing machine." _Hairdresser (who does not appreciate "chaff")._ "No, sir, 'tain't a mowin' machine. It's meant to give gentlemen fresh _h_air."] * * * * * [Illustration: BITING SARCASM _Gentleman with the Broom (who has inadvertently splashed the artist's favourite shipwreck)._ "Ow yus! I suppose yer think ye're the president o' the Roy'l Acadermy! A settin' there in the lap er luxury!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FOREIGN COMPETITION _British Habitual Criminal._ "Well, if these 'ere furrin aliens is a-goin' ter take the bread out of a honest man's mouth--blimey if I don't turn copper!"] * * * * * VERY APPROPRIATE.--Says 'Arry, "Regular good place for a medical man to live in is 'Ill Street, Berkeley Square. But why don't he cure it and make it Quite Well Street?" * * * * * COMMENT BY A COCKNEY Bad-Gastein! Sounds more fit than nice, and yet They say most healing waters there are had. Strange, though, that people fancy good to get By going to the Bad! * * * * * 'Arriet read from a daily paper, "Navigation in the Ouse." "I s'pose," said 'Arry, "as the members are goin' to 'ave a 'ouse-boat this season. Which 'ouse? Hupper or lower? Whichever's to steer? The Speaker or Lord 'Igh Chancellor?" * * * * * TWO DISTINCT CLASSES.--The aristocracy and the '_Arry_-stocracy. * * * * * [Illustration: WITHERING. _'Arry._ "I s'y--does one tip the witers 'ere?" _Alphonse._ "Not onless you are reecher zan ze vaiter, sare!"] * * * * * THE BLESSED HERITAGE ["Poverty is a blessed heritage."--_Mr. Carnegie._] 'Ere, Lizer, wheer's yer gratitood? 'E ses, ses Mr. C., As it's a blessed 'eritage, is poverty, ses 'e. Then think 'ow thankful an' 'ow blest we oughter feel, us two, But yet yer that contrairy that I'm blest, Liz, if yer do. Wot? 'Ungry? Wot is 'unger? Don't it vary the monotony An' Wooster sorce yer vittles, that's supposin' as yer've got any? Then think of them pore millionaires wot misses the delight Of 'avin' 'ad no breakfast on a roarin' happytite. Then money! I Think, Elizer, of them cruel stocks and shares Wot makes their lives a torter to them martyred millionaires Oh, ain't we much more appy when the sticks is up the spout An' the kids is wantin' dinner and 'as got ter go without? And don't it make yer 'eart bleed, too, to think of all the care Of mansions in the country and an 'ouse in Grosvenor Square? Ah, what would them pore fellers give if honly they could come An' live with all their fam'ly in our garret hup the slum? Wot, Liz? Yer'd like ter see 'em come? 'Ere, none o' that theer charf! Yer'd sell yer bloomin' birthright for a pot of 'arf-an-'arf? Lor, Liz! Ter think as you should be in sich a thankless mood! Yer've got a "blessed 'eritage," an' 'ere's yer gratitood! * * * * * 'ARRY EXAMINED.--_Q._ "What is meant by 'Higher Education'"? _'Arry._ "Getting a tutor at so much a week. That's the way I should 'ire education--if I wanted it." * * * * * WHY HE IS SUCH A DULL BOY. "'Arry," said an eminent comic singer to his friend, confidentially at the Oxford, "I'm exclusively engaged at the music 'alls; mayn't perform in a theatre." "Then," replied 'Arry, knowingly, "it's all work and no play with you." The conclusion was so evident that, had it not been for a good deal of soothing syrup at 'Arry's expense, there might have been a serious breach of the peace. * * * * * [Illustration: _Toff._ "I say, my boy, would you like to drive me to Piccadilly?" _Boy._ "I shouldn't mind, old sport, only I don't fink the 'arness would fit yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IDDEN AND POOR LETTER H _Tout Contractor (who has been paid a shilling per man, and sees his way to a little extra profit)._ "Now look 'ere, you two H's! The public don't want yer--nor _I_ don't, nor nobody don't; so jist drop them boards, and then 'ook it!"] * * * * * OBSERVATIONS BY A COCKNEY NATURALIST A nightingale has been heard singing in Kensington Gardens (_vide Times_, April 19). A salmon has been seen swimming close to London Bridge. A trout has been observed (reposing on a marble slab) near to Charing Cross. Sticklebacks have been captured in the waters of the Serpentine. Plovers eggs have been discovered in the middle of Covent Garden: I myself have found there as many as two dozen in a single walk. There is a rookery in St. Giles's, well known to the police. I have seen a pigeon shot not far from Shepherd's Bush, and I have heard one has been plucked by a member of the hawk tribe at another West-End haunt. Blackbeetles are common in the back kitchens of Belgravia, and bluebottles abound among the butchers of Whitechapel during the warm months. There is another kind of fly, which is said to be indigenous to the stables of the jobmasters, and which also may be seen by observant Cockney naturalists, but less seldom in Whitechapel than near the Regent's Park. Sparrow-clubs have not been established yet in London, but pea-shooters are common in many of its streets. I am told that early risers may hear a male canary singing in the neighbourhood of Islington at four o'clock, A.M., and may also hear a cock crow any morning, except Sunday, between five and six o'clock. The thrush has been observed among sundry of the children, under medical inspection, in the nurseries and infant hospitals of town. Little ducks are plentiful in the _salons_ of Tyburnia, and in Bayswater and Brompton there are numbers of great geese. Welsh rabbits may be seen close to Covent Garden, and wild turkeys have been noticed even in the Strand, hanging by the beak. In the purlieus of St. Stephen's, where are the sacred haunts of the collective wisdom of the kingdom, I have heard the hootings of many an old owl. From information which I have received from members of the metropolitan police, I may assert that larks are common in the Haymarket, and that on the shores of the silver Thames at Wapping there is frequently observable a goodly flock of mudlarks. From similar information, I may add that there are careful observers in the streets who rarely pass a day without their setting their eyes upon a robbin'. Who shall say that in the very midst of the metropolis there is not abundant evidence of a truly rural, and a tooral-looral life? * * * * * NIGHT-BIRDS THAT MAKE WEST-END NIGHT HIDEOUS.--The 'owls of 'Arry after his larks. * * * * * CHARADE FOR COSTERMONGERS.--My first is unfathomable, my second odoriferous, and my whole is a people of Africa.--_Abyss-inians._ * * * * * CONSOLATION FOR COCKNEYS.--It is all very well to talk of the fine boulevards of Paris; but in the French metropolis, where the rent is so high, and the living so dear, there is not one street to be named with Cheapside. * * * * * [Illustration: _'Arry (encountering a shut gate for the first time)._ "Wonder which end the thing opens? Ah, 'ere y'are! 'Ere's the 'ooks an' eyes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BEAN HARVEST _Cockney Tourist._ "Tut-t-t! Good gracious! What ever can 'ave made the corn turn so black?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE EASTER VACATION. _Owner._ "Well, the poor old moke ain't been quite 'isself lately, so we thought a day in the country 'ud do im good!"] * * * * * MISTAKES ABOUT SCOTLAND _(Contributed by a Converted Cockney)_ It is a mistake to believe that every Scotchman, when he goes to Edinburgh, immediately walks down Princes Street clad in the ancient costume of the Highlanders. It is a mistake to believe that the _pièce de résistance_ at every Scotch dinner-party is a haggis. It is a mistake to believe that a Scotchman does not enjoy a joke every bit as much as an Englishman. It is a mistake to believe that a Scotch Sabbath in the country is a whit more _triste_ than an English Sunday in the provinces. It is a mistake to believe that a Scotchman sets a greater value upon his "bawbee" than an Englishman upon his shilling or an American upon his dollar. It is a mistake to believe that inns in Scotland are dearer and less comfortable than hotels in England. It is a mistake to believe that we have a city in England that can compare favourably (from an architectural point of view) with the town of Edinburgh. It is a mistake to believe that it always rains in the Isle of Skye. It is a mistake to believe that there are no more "Fair Maids" in the houses of Perth. It is a mistake to believe that Hampstead Heath is as beautiful as Dunkeld. It is a mistake to believe that the Caledonian Canal is at all like the Serpentine. It is a mistake to believe that Aberdeen is less imposing in appearance than Chelsea or Islington. It is a mistake to believe that the countrymen of Scott and Burns do not appreciate the works of Shakspeare, Milton, Byron, Dickens, Thackeray, and Tennyson. And, lastly (this is added to the Cockney's list by the wisest sage of this or any other age), it is the greatest mistake of all to believe that _Mr. Punch_ does not like and respect (in spite of an occasional joke at their expense) the kindly, homely, sound-hearted people who live north of the Tweed. * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER THE RACES. _Little 'Arry (who has had a "bad day"--to driver of public coach)._ "Ever lose any money backin' 'orses, coachie?" _Driver._ "Not 'alf! Lost twenty quid once--backed a pair of 'orses and a homnibus into a shop window in Regent Street!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Lady._ "Dear me, what a nice refined-looking little boy. Why, Jane, he has a mouth fit for a cherub; I really must give him sixpence." [_Does so._ _The Cherub (five seconds later)._ "S-s-s-s!! Billee! the old gal's give me a tanner!"] * * * * * BY OUR COCKNEY When is a yew tree not a yew tree? When it's a 'igh tree. Talking of that, _Mr. P._, what a nice line the Great Northern to Hedgware is, to be sure. I am, as you know, werry partickler about my "H"s, but "'ang me," as my friend 'Arry Belleville says, "if t'ain't 'nough to spoil your pronunshiashun for a hage and hall time to 'ave to 'ear such names of stations one atop of tother, as the followin', as called out by the porters an' guards:" 'Olloway. Seven Scissors Road. Crouch Hend. 'Ighgate and 'Ampstead. Heast Hend. Finchley and 'Endon. Mill 'Ill. Hedgware. There's a lot for you! And t'other line goes to 'Arford, 'Atfield, and Saint All-buns. Saint _All Buns_ would be a good feast, eh, sir? Yours, _Hivy 'Ouse, 'Oxton._ ENERY. * * * * * [Illustration: _First Combatant._ "----!----!----! &c." _Bystander._ "Why don't yer answer 'im back?" _Second Combatant._ "'Ow can I? 'E's used all the best words!"] * * * * * A COCKNEY RHAPSODY [A critic in the _Daily News_ accuses artists generally of ignorance in their treatment of rural subjects, and declares that nearly every picture of work in the hay or harvest field is incorrect.] Come revel with me in the country's delights, Its rapturous pleasures, its marvellous sights; No landscape of common or garden I praise, But Nature's strange charms that the painter pourtrays. No summer begins there, and spring never ends, It mingles with autumn, with winter it blends; Its primroses bloom when the barley is ripe, Amid its red apples the nightingales pipe. There often the shadow falls southward at noon, And sunrise is hailed by the pale crescent moon, The sun sets at will in the east or the west, In the grove where the cuckoo is building her nest. There the milkmaid sits down to the left of the cow, In harvest they sow, and in haytime they plough; While mowers, in attitudes gladsome and blythe, Impossible antics perform with the scythe. There huntsmen in June after foxes may roam, And horses unbridled go champing with foam; From torrents by winter fierce swollen and high, The proud salmon leaps in pursuit of the fly. Ah Nature! it's little--I own for my part-- I know of your face save as mirrored in art; Yet, vainly shall critics begrudge me that charm, For a fellow can paint without learning to farm. * * * * * [Illustration: BETHNAL GREEN. _East-Ender._ "'Ary Scheffer!' Hignorant fellers, these foreigners Bill! Spells 'Enery without the haitch!"] * * * * * OVERHEARD AT A MEETING OF THE UP-IN-A-BALLOON SOCIETY. _'Arry._ Wot's the difference between Nelson and that cove in the chair? _Charlie._ Give it up, mate. _'Arry._ Wy, _Nelson_ was a nautical 'ero, and this chap's a _'ero nautical_, to be sure. * * * * * 'ARRY 'AD--FOR ONCE.--SCENE--_Exterior of St. James's Hall on a Schumann and Joachim Night._ _'Arry (meeting High-Art Musical Friend, who has come out during an interval, after assisting at Madame Schumann's magnificent reception)._ 'Ullo! What's up? What are they at now? _High-Art Friend (consulting programme)._ Let me see. They've done "Op. 13." Ah, yes! They've just got to "Op. 44." _'Arry (astounded)._ 'Op forty-four! St. James's 'All got a dancin' licence! Hooray! I'm all there! I'll go in for 'Op forty-five. What is it, a waltz or a polka? [_Rushes to the pay-place._] * * * * * [Illustration: "RUDE AM I IN MY SPEECH" (OTHELLO) THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWER GIRLS] * * * * * THE COMPLAINT OF THE COCKNEY CLERK "I know of no cure but for the Englishman (1) to do his best to compete in the particulars where the German now excels; (2) to try to show that, taken all round, he is worth more than the German."--_Mr. Gladstone on English Clerks and German Competition._ All very fine, O orator illustrious! But I as soon would be a mole or merman, As a short-grubbing, horribly industrious, Linguistic German. A clerk's a clerk, that is a cove who scribbles All day, and then goes in for cue, and "jigger," And not a mere machine who feeds by nibbles, Slaves like a nigger. Learn languages? And for two quid a week? Cut barmaids, billiards, bitter beer and betting? Yah! that may suit a sausage, or a sneak! Whistles need wetting. That is if they are genuine English whistles, And not dry, hoarse, yah-yah Teutonic throttles. _I_'m not a donkey who can thrive on thistles. No, that's "no bottles." I've learned my native tongue,--and that's a teaser-- I've also learned a lot of slang and patter; But German, French, Italian, Portuguese, sir, For "screw" no fatter? Not me, my old exuberant wood-chopper! Level _me_ to the straw-haired Carls and Hermanns? No; there's another trick would do me proper,-- Kick out the Germans! Old Bismarck's "blood and iron's" a receipt meant For sour-krautt gobblers, sandy and sardonic! But for us Britons that Teutonic treatment Is much too tonic. The cheek of 'em just puts me in a rage, Send 'em back home, ah! even pay their passage Or soon, by Jove, we'll have to call our age, The German "sauce"-age! * * * * * [Illustration: AN INFORMAL INTRODUCTION. _'Arry (shouting across the street to his "Pal")._ "Hi! Bill! This is 'er!"] * * * * * "ON A CLIFF BY THE SEA" (_Whit Monday_) A verse for "'Arry"? Well, I'm shot! (Excuse my language plain and terse) For such a nuisance I have not A verse. His praise don't ask me to rehearse, But, if you like--I'll tell you what-- The _rôle_ of Baalam I'll reverse. Only, like Balak, from this spot Desire me 'Arry's tribe to curse, To grant that prayer you'll find me not Averse! * * * * * [Illustration: _'Arriet._ "Wot toime his the next troine fer 'Ammersmith?" _Clerk._ "Due now." _'Arriet._ "'Course Oi dawn't now, stoopid, or I wouldn't be harskin' yer!"] * * * * * 'ARRY IN ROME AND LONDON A kind correspondent calls _Mr. Punch's_ attention to the fact that 'Arry the ubiquitous crops up even in the classics as Arrius, in fact, in _Carmen_ lxxxiv. of Catullus. How proud 'Arry will be to hear of his classical prototype! Our correspondent "dropping into verse," exclaims:-- Yes! Your Cockney is eternal; Arrius speaks in 'Arry still; Vaunts 'is "hincome" by paternal "Hartful" tricks hup 'Olborn 'Ill. How well he is justified may be seen by a glance at the text of Catullus:-- DE ARRIO. "C_h_ommoda" dicebat, si quando commoda vellet Dicere, et "_h_indsidias" Arrius insidias: Et tum mirifice sperabat se esse locutum. Cum, quantum poterat, dixerat "_h_insidias." Credo, sic mater, sic Liber avunculus ejus. Sic maternus avus dixerit, atque avia. Catullus, _Carmen_ lxxxiv. Which--for the benefit of 'Arry himself, who is not perhaps familiar with the "Lingo Romano"--though he may know something of a "Romano" dear to certain young sportsmen, though not dearer to them than other caterers--may thus be _very_ freely adapted:-- 'Arry to _H_oxford gives the aspirate still He cruelly denies to 'Igate 'Ill; Yet deems in diction he can ape the "swell," And "git the 'ang of it" exceeding well. Doubtless his sire, the 'atter, and his mother, The hupper 'ousemaid, so addressed each other; For spite of all that wrangling Board Schools teach, There seems heredity in Cockney speech. * * * * * COMMERCIAL INTELLIGENCE.--According to a trade circular issued by a Cockney company, Florence and Lucca, whence the finer description of oils have been heretofore imported, are threatened with a vigorous competition by the Iles of Greece. * * * * * THE RICHEST DISH IN THE WORLD.--The "weal" of fortune. * * * * * 'ARRY'S MOTTO.--"Youth on the prowl and pleasure at the 'elm." * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady._ "Half-a-crown, indeed! Your fare is eighteen-pence. I looked it up in Bradshaw." _Cabman._ "Well, to be sure! Wot a good wife you _would 'ave_ made for a pore man!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BACK TO THE LAND. _Farmer's Wife (who has told the new lad from London to collect eggs)._ "Well, Jack, have you got many?" _Jack (who has raided a sitting hen)._ "Rauther! One old 'en she's bin and layed thirteen, and I don't think she's finished yet!"] * * * * * LINES BY A COCKNEY _Addressed to A Young Lady, but dropped by some mistake into Mr. Punch's letter-box._ Sweet hangel, whom I met last heve Hat Mrs. Harthur's 'op, I 'ope that you will give me leave A question now to pop. I mind me 'ow when in the 'all Your carriage was hannounced, You hasked me to hadjust your shawl, Hon which with 'aste I pounced. Then heager to your Ma you ran, She anxious to be gone, I 'eard 'er call you Mary-Hann, Or helse 'twas Mari-hon. Now, Mary-Hann's a name I 'ate Has much as Betsy-Jane, I could not bear to link my fate With such a 'orrid name; But Mari-hon I like as well As hany name I know; Then, hangel, I emplore thee tell, Dost spell it with a Ho? * * * * * [Illustration: POLITICS AND GALLANTRY _First 'Arry._ "Hay, wot's this 'ere Rosebery a torkin' abaat? Bless'd if he ain't a goin' to do awy with the Lords!" _Second 'Arry (more of a Don Juan than a Politician)._ "Do awy with the 'ole bloomin' lot o' Lords, if he likes, as long as he don't do away with the lidies!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "AND _SHE_ OUGHT TO KNOW!" "That's supposed to be a portograph of Lady Solsbury. But, bless yer, it ain't like her a bit in private!"] * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY'S AUNT UPON THE CLIFF A study in perspective done by 'Arry with a 'and camera.] * * * * * ECHO'S ANSWERS _To a Cockney Inquirer who consults her concerning the inevitable Annual "Outing" and its probable issues._ _Inquirer._ What subject sets me worrying and doubting? _Echo. "Outing._" _Inquirer._ My wife suggests for family health's improving?-- _Echo. Roving._ _Inquirer._ What's the first requisite for taking pleasure? _Echo. Leisure._ _Inquirer._ The second (for a slave to matrimony)? _Echo. Money._ _Inquirer._ You say that woman of all founts of mischief-- _Echo. Is chief._ _Inquirer._ What is this close agreement of _my_ women? _Echo. Omen._ _Inquirer._ I fear for me they'll prove a deal too clever? _Echo. Ever._ _Inquirer._ What is the manner of my buxom Mary? _Echo. Airy._ _Inquirer._ And what's her goal in every hint and notion? _Echo. Ocean._ _Inquirer._ How recommends she Ramsgate, shrimpy, sandy? _Echo. 'Andy._ _Inquirer._ Whereas _I_ hold it at this season torrid?-- _Echo. 'Orrid!_ _Inquirer._ And hint, with a faint view to scare or stop her?-- _Echo. 'Opper!_ _Inquirer._ (Meaning the _Pulex_.) Answers she politely? _Echo. Lightly._ _Inquirer._ How then am I inclined to view the mater? _Echo. 'Ate her._ _Inquirer._ What feel I when she hints at sea-side clothing? _Echo. Loathing._ _Inquirer._ Mention of what makes all my family scoffers? _Echo. Coffers._ _Inquirer._ Then if I storm, what word breaks sequent stillness? _Echo. Illness!_ _Inquirer._ What feels a man when women 'gin to blubber? _Echo. Lubber._ _Inquirer._ What is the show of patience that may follow? _Echo. Hollow!_ _Inquirer._ What would the sex when it assumes that virtue? _Echo. Hurt you._ _Inquirer._ What's the result of halting and misgiving? _Echo. Giving._ _Inquirer._ What is man's share anent this yearly yearning? _Echo. Earning._ _Inquirer._ What's the chief issue of this seaward flowing? _Echo. Owing._ _Inquirer_. How long before I'm free of tradesmen's pages? _Echo. Ages!_ * * * * * THE MOORS. Our Cockney correspondent says that the birds are very wild, and that the heath being extremely slippery, the attempt to run after them is apt to be attended with numerous falls, especially in patent-leather boots. He says the exercise is fatiguing in the extreme, and complains that there are no cabs to be had on the hills though there are plenty of flies. * * * * * DOUBLE COCKNEY CONUNDRUM FOR THE DERBY DAY.--"What eminent composer would in England have probably been 'in the ring'?" "_'Aydn._" "Why?" "Because who ever 'eard of 'Aydn alone? Ain't it always a '_Aydn and abettin_'? Eh? Now then! Come up, can't yer!" * * * * * [Illustration: EUPHEMISM. _Cab Tout (exasperated by the persistent attentions of constable)._ "Look 'ere, ole lightnin'-ketcher, w'ere the missin' word are yer shovin' us to?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Coster (to acquaintance, who has been away for some months)._ "Wot are yer bin doin' all this time?" _(Bill Robbins who has been "doing time")._ "Oh I've bin wheelin' a bit, ole man--wheelin' a bit!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HE THOUGHT HE WAS SAFE. _Irascible Old Gentleman._ "Buy a comb! What the devil should I buy a comb for? You don't see any hair on my head, do you?" _Unlicensed Hawker._ "Lor' bless yer, sir!--yer don't want no 'air on yer 'ead for a tooth-comb!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF TASTE _Liz (to Emily)._ "Mind yer, it's all roight so fur as it goes. All I sez is, it wants a fevver or two, or a bit o' plush somewhares, to give it what I call _stoyle_!"] * * * * * THE LAND OF THE 'ARRY'UNS.--'Am'stead 'eath. * * * * * When a vulgar husband drops his h's, a good wife drops her eyes. * * * * * [Illustration: THE SNOW CURE!! _Fiendish Little Boy (to elderly gentleman, who has come a cropper for the fourth time in a hundred yards)._ "'Ere I say, guv'nor, you're fair wallerin' in it this mornin'! H'anyone 'ud think as you'd bin hordered it by your medical man!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OPEN TO DOUBT _Ostler (dubiously, to 'Arry, who is trying to mount on the wrong side)._ "Beg pard'n, sir, I suppose you're quite accustomed to 'osses, sir?"] * * * * * NOTES BY A COCKNEY NATURALIST There are various kinds of larks to be observed by Cockney naturalists, which are more or less, and rather less than more, indigenous to London. There is first of all the cage lark (_Alauda Miserrima_) which is chiefly found on grass-plats measuring about two inches square, and may be heard singing plaintively in many a back slum. Then there is the mud lark (_Alauda Greenwichiensis_), which is principally seen towards nightfall on the shores of the river, when the whitebait is in season. This little lark is a migratory bird, and flits from place to place in quest of anything worth picking up that may happen to be thrown to it. Finally, there is the street lark (_Alauda Nocturna_), which is known to most policemen in the neighbourhood of the Haymarket, and the like nocturnal haunts. As a gratifying proof of our progressing civilisation, there has been of recent years a very marked decrease in the number of white mice, and monkeys dressed as soldiers, exhibited by organ-grinders in the London streets. Trained dogs appear, however, decidedly more numerous, and performing canaries may be met with not infrequently in the squares of the West End. The naturalist should note, moreover, that the learned British pig (_Porcus Sapiens Britannicus_) which, within the memory of men who are still living, used commonly to infest the fairs near the metropolis, has recently well nigh completely disappeared and is believed by sundry naturalists to be utterly extinct. The rum shrub (_Shrubbus Curiosus_) which, although deserving of close investigation has somehow escaped mention in the pages of Linnæus, is found in great profusion in the purlieus of Whitechapel, as well as other parts of London where dram-drinkers do congregate. It may be generally discovered in proximity to the Pot-tree (_Arbor Pewteriferens_), which may be readily recognised by its metallic fruit. The common cat of the metropolis (_Felis Catterwaulans_) is remarkable, especially for the exceeding frequency and shrillness of its cries when it goes upon the tiles, or proceeds to other spots of feline popular resort. Sleep becomes impossible within earshot of its yellings, and the injury they cause to property as well as human temper is immense. It has, indeed, been roughly estimated that thirty thousand water-jugs are annually sacrificed, within a circuit of not more than six miles from St. Paul's, by being hurled from bedroom windows with the aim to stop these squalling feline "Voices of the night." A certain proof that oysters are amphibious may be noted in the fact that they always build their grottoes in the courts and the back streets of the metropolis where, in the month of August, with extravagant profusion, their shells are yearly cast. The scarlet-coated lobster (_Le Homard Militaire_, Cuvier) has been frequently discovered on the shores of the Serpentine, or basking by the margin of the water in St. James's Park. This crustacean, when treated well, will drink like a fish, excepting that, unlike a fish, he does not confine himself to water for his drink. His shell (jacket) is of a bright red colour, which is not produced, as in the lobster species generally, by the agency of the caloric in the act of being boiled. The scarlet-coated lobster leads, while in London, a very peaceful life, notwithstanding his presumed propensities for fighting. If we may credit the statistics which, with no slight labour, have been recently collected, no fewer than five million and eleven blue-bottles are annually slaughtered in the butchers' shops of London, before depositing their ova in the primest joints of meat. The number of the smaller flies which, merely in the City, are every year destroyed for buzzing round the bald heads of irritable bank clerks, amounts, it has been calculated, to one million three hundred thousand and thirteen. * * * * * FROM TAPLOW.--_First 'Arry._ I'll tell you a good name for a riverside inn--_"The Av-a-launch"._ _Second 'Arry._ I'll tell you a better--"The 'Ave-a-lunch." Come along! * * * * * [Illustration: "Did yer order any ile round the corner?" "What do you mean by ile? Do you mean oil?" "Naw. Not ile, but ILE wot yer drinks!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF THE SENSES. _First County Councillor._ "I'm told the _acoustics_ of this hall leave much to be desired, Mr. Brown!" _Second C. C. (delicately sniffing)._ "Indeed, Sir Pompey? Can't say as I perceive anythink amiss, myself; and my nose is pretty sharp, too!"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUICK WORK. _Guttersnipe._ "Please muvver wants sixpence on this 'ere fryin' pan." _Pawnbroker._ "Hallo! it's _hot_!" _Guttersnipe._ "Yus, muvver's just cooked the sossidges, an' wants the money for the beer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WE MUSTN'T ALWAYS JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. "I say, Bill, you aren't got such a thing as the price of 'arf a pint about you, are yer? I'm so blooming dry!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Philanthropic Coster' (who has been crying "Perry-wink-wink-wink!" till he's hoarse--and no buyers)._ "I wonder what the p'or unfort'nate creeters in these 'ere low neighb'r'oods do live on!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RUDE INQUIRY _Street Arabs._ "Hoo curls yer 'air, gov'nour?"] * * * * * [Illustration: BILLINGSGATE UP-TO-DATE. _'Enery._ "'Ullo, Chawley? Wot's up? 'As yer motor broke down?" _Chawley (whose "moke" is a "bit below himself")._ "Yuss, smashed me 'sparking plug.'"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First "Growler"._ "'Ulloah, William, where are yer takin' that little lot?" _Second "Growler"._ "Hararat! Don't yer see I'm navigatin' the Hark?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _'Arriet._ "I will say this for Bill, 'e _do_ look the gentleman!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Urchin._ "Fifth o' November, sir! Only a copper, sir! Jist a penny, sir!" _Second Urchin._ "Let 'im alone. _Cawn't yer see 'e's one of the family!_"] * * * * * SONGS FOR THE NATION "[Greek: Lays are a luxury songs essential.]" _'Arrystophanes._ It is evident that the nation is yearning for singable songs in the 'Arry dialect. The late lamented Artemus Ward would probably have said, "Let her yearn"; but a stern sense of duty impels me to try and meet the need, created by the _Daily Chronicle_. I have a comforting impression that all that is necessary to insure correctness is to "chinge" as many "a"s as possible into "i"s. By this means I secure the "local colouring," which, by the way, has undergone a complete change since Dickens spelt Weller "with a wee, my lord." A catchword, à propos of nothing, is always useful, so I have duly provided it. 'ARRY THE OPTIMIST I. Oh! you should see My gal and me (Mariar is 'er nime), When we go daown To Brighton taown To 'ave a gorjus time. She wears sich feathers in 'er 'at, She's beautiful and guy, But it ain't all beer and skittles--flat And 'ere's the reason why: _Refrine--_ She 'urries me, she worries me, To ketch the bloomin' trine; She 'ustles me, she bustles me, She grumbles 'arf the time: It's "'Arry do," and "'Arry don't," Which "'Arry" will, or "'Arry" won't (It goes against the grine), But-- (_Triumphantly._) We 'as a 'appy 'ollidy, We gets there all the sime. --'Urry up, 'Arry. II. And when we reach The Brighton beach It's sure to pour with rine A pub is not A 'appy spot For us to set and drine Yet there we set and tike our beer And while awy the dy, Though we don't 'ave words, no bloomin' fear Mariar 'as 'er sy. _Refrine--_ 'Er langwidge is for sangwidges, She's sorry that she cime; The weather's wrong, 'er feather's wrong, I 'as to tike the blime. It's "'Arry" 'ere, and "'Arry" there, And "'Arry, you're a bloomin' bear," And "'Arry, it's a shime"-- (_Spoken._)--Which is 'ard on a feller! And then we 'as to ketch the bloomin' trine again, and she _do_ talk, but never mind-- (_Brightly._) We've 'ad a 'appy 'ollidy, We gits 'ome all the sime. --'Urry up, 'Arry! * * * * * COCKNEY SPORT EXTRAORDINARY. Well-known sporting character, residing at Putney, being unable to reach the moors this season, and having lost his gun, has lately amused himself by bringing down several brace of grouse by means of the Brompton omnibus. * * * * * AT THE ZOO. (A FACT).--_'Arriet (looking at the Java sparrows)._ Wot's them? Sparrerkeets? _'Arry._ Sparrerkeets be 'anged--them's live 'umming birds. * * * * * [Illustration: COMMON OBJECTS OF THE SEA SHORE. _First seaside saddle polisher._ "Wot cheer, 'Arry? 'Ow are yer gettin' on?" _'Arry._ "First-rate, old pal. Only this--beggar always--bumps--at the wrong--time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNDER CORRECTION. Fare. "Hans Mansions." _Cabby._ "_Queen_ Hanne's Mansions, I suppose you mean, miss?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Penny 'addick." "Finen?" "No; thick 'un!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Frenchman._ "Ah, mon cher ami!" _Second Frenchman._ "Ah, c'est mon cher Alphonse!" _British Workman._ "Bloomin' Germans!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Clerk of Booking-Office._ "There is _no_ first class by this train, sir." _'Arry._ "Then wot are we going ter do, Bill?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Fader's gettin' better. 'E's beginnin' ter swear again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Vendor of Pirated Songs._ "Er y'are, lidy! ''Oly City', 'Bu'ful Star,' 'Hi cawn't think why Hi lubs yer, but Hi do!'"] * * * * * 'ARRY ON HIS 'OLIDAY _Being an epistle from that notorious and ubiquitous person, luxuriating for the time in rural parts, to his chum Charlie, confined in town._ Wha' cheer, my dear Charlie? 'Ow are yer? I promised I'd drop yer a line. I'm out on the trot for a fortnit; and ain't it golumpshusly fine? Bin dooing the swell pretty proper, I beg to assure yer, old man. Jest go it tip-top while you're at it, and blow the expense, is _my_ plan. Bin took for a nob, and no error this time; which my tailor's A 1. The cut of these bags, sir, beats Poole _out of_ fits. (Are yer fly to the pun?) And this gridiron pattern in treacle and mustard is something uneek, As the girls--but there, Charlie, _you_ know me, and so there's no call for to speak. My merstach is a coming on proper--that fetches 'em, Charlie, my boy; Though one on 'em called me young spiky, which doubtless was meant to annoy. But, bless yer! 'twas only a touch of the green-eyed, 'acos I looked sweet On a tidy young parcel in pink as 'ung out in the very same street. O Charlie, such larks as I'm 'aving. To toddle about on the sands, And watch the blue beauties a-bathing, and spot the sick muffs as they lands, Awful flabby and white in the gills, and with hoptics so sheepishly sad, And twig 'em go green as we chaff 'em; I tell yer it isn't half bad. Then, s'rimps! Wy, I pooty near lives on 'em; got arf a pocketful here, There's a flavour of bird's-eye about 'em; but that's soon took off by the beer. The "bitter" round here is jest lummy, and as for their soda-and-b., It's ekal to "fizz" and no error, and suits this small child to a t. The weeds as I've blown is a caution;--I'm nuts on a tuppenny smoke. Don't care for the baths, but there's sailing, and rollicking rides on a moke. I've sung comic songs on the cliffs after dark, and wot's fun if that ain't? And I've chiselled my name in a church on the cheek of a rummy stone saint. So, Charlie, I think you will see, I've been doing the tourist to rights. Good grub and prime larks in the daytime, and billiards and bitter at nights; That's wot _I_ calls 'oliday-making, my pippin. I wish _you_ was here, Jest wouldn't we go it extensive! But now I am off for the pier. To ogle the girls. 'Ow they likes it! though some of their dragons looks blue. But lor'! if a chap _has_ a way with the sex, what the doose can he do? The toffs may look thunder and tommy on me and my spicey rig out, But they don't stare yours faithfully down, an' it's all nasty envy, no doubt. Ta! ta! There's a boat coming in, and the sea has been roughish all day; All our fellows will be on the watch, and _I_ mustn't be out of the way. Carn't yer manige to run down on Sunday? I tell yer it's larks, and no kid! Yours bloomingly, 'ARRY. P.S.--I have parted with close on four quid! * * * * * POISON IN THE BOWL.--_Hot weather._--Advice by our own Cockney. Don't put ice in your champagne. It's pison. How do I know this? Because it comes from Venom Lake. * * * * * SEASONABLE.--_'Arry's friend._ What's the proper dinner for Ash Wednesday? _'Arry._ Why, 'ash mutton, o' course. * * * * * [Illustration: SELF-RESPECT. _The Missus._ "Oh, Jem, you said you'd give me your photergrarf. Now, let's go in, and get it done." _Jem._ "Oh, I dessay! an' 'ave my 'Carte de Wisete' stuck up in the winder along o' all these 'ere bally-gals an' 'igh-church parsons! No, Sairey!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TRIALS OF OUR ARTISTIC FRIEND, LEONARDO DA TOMPKINS (_Who lives in an unappreciative Suburb_) _'Arriet (nudging her lidy friend, and in an ostentatious stage-whisper)._ "'Amlet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tenor (singing)._ "Oh, 'appy, 'appy, 'appy be thy dreams----" _Professor._ "Stop, stop! Why don't you sound the H?" _Tenor._ "It don't go no 'igher than G!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Newspaper Boy._ "Hullo, Bill! Who's 'e?" _Second Newspaper Boy._ "I suppose 'e's the North Pole as 'as just been discovered!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gorgeous-looking Individual._ "Most 'strordinary weather, ain't it? First it's 'ot, then it's cold. Blow me, if one knows 'ow to dress!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, Bill, wot 's a Prodigal?" "Why, a Prodigal's a sort o' cove as keeps on coming back!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT WHAT SHE EXPECTED SCENE--_Canal side, Sunday morning_ _Lady._ "Do you know where little boys go to who bathe on Sunday?" _First Arab._ "Yus. It's farder up the canal side. But you can't go. Girls ain't allowed!"] * * * * * 'ARRY ON 'APPINESS DEAR CHARLIE, A 'Appy New Year to yer! That's the straight tip for to-day, So I'm bound to be in it, old chip, though things don't _look_ remarkable gay. I inclose you a card--a correct one, I 'ope, though it strikes one as queer That such picters is thought _apprypo_ this perticular time of the year. You'll observe there's a hangel in muslin a twisting 'erself all awry, With some plums, happle-blossoms, and marigolds, backed by a dab o' blue sky. Dekkyrative it's called, so the mivvy informed me who nobbled my tanner; _I_ call it a little bit mixed, like the art on a Odd-Fellow's banner. But, bless you, it's all of a piece, Charlie--life is so muddled with rot That it takes rayther more than a judge or a jury to tell yer wot's wot. Whether knifing a boy 'cos one's peckish means murder if lyings are libels, Seem questions as bothers the big wigs, in spite of their blue books and Bibles. Where are we, old pal? that's the question. Perhaps it would add to one's ease If life wos declared a "mixed wobble," it's motter a "go as you please." But 'tisn't all cinder-path, Charlie, wus luck! if it was, with "all in," You wouldn't go fur wrong, I fancy, in backing "yours truly" to win. "A 'Appy New Year!" That's the cackle all over the shop like to-day. Wot's 'Appiness? Praps Mister Ruskin and little Lord Garmoyle will say. You an' me's got _our_ notions of yum-yum, as isn't fur wide o' the mark, But who'll give us change for 'em, Charlie? Ah! that's where we're left in the dark. The Reform Bill won't do it, my pippin, on that you may lay your last dollar. The fact is this 'Appy New Year fake is 'oller, mate, hutterly 'oller. 'Twon't fly--like the Christmas card hangels, it doesn't fit into the facks; All it does is to spread tommy-rot, and to break all the postmen's poor backs. You'll be thinking I've got the blue-mouldies, old man, and you won't be fur hout. Funds low with yours truly, my bloater, no chances of getting about. Larks, any amount of 'em, going, advertisements gassing like fun, But 'Arry, for once in the way, 's a stone-broker and not in the run. It's cutting, that's wot it is, _cutting_. I'm so used to leading the field, That place as fust-fly at life's fences is one as I _don't_ like to yield, Espechly to one like Bill Blossit--no style, not a bit about Bill! And they talk of a 'Appy New Year, mate, and cackle o' peace and goodwill! Oh yus, I'd goodwill 'em, Bill Blossit and false Fanny Friswell, a lot! They are off to the world's fair to-night, sir, and _that's_ wy I say it's such rot. If form such as mine's to go 'obbling whilst mugginses win out o' sight, I say the world's handicap's wrong, mate, and Christmas cards won't set it right. Lor bless yer, 'e ain't got no patter, not more than a nutmeg, Bill ain't; But the railway has taken his shop, and he's come out as fresh as new paint. And so because _I'm_ out of luck, and that duffer has landed the chink, She 'ooks onto him _like_ a bat to a belfry, sir! What do _you_ think? A 'Appy New Year? Yus, it looks like it! Charlie, old chap, I've heard tell Of parties called pessymists, writers as swear the whole world's a big sell; No doubt they've bin jilted, or jockeyed by some such a juggins as Bill; And without real jam--cash and kisses--this world is a bitterish pill. Still, I wish you a 'Appy New Year, if you care for the kibosh, old chappie, Though 'taint 'igh art cards full o' gush and green paint'll make you and me 'appy. Wot _we_ want is lucre and larks, love and lotion as much as you'll carry! Give me them, and one slap at that Bill,--They're the new year gifts to suit. 'ARRY. * * * * * AT SCARBOROUGH.--_'Arriet (pointing to postillions of pony-chaises)._ Why do all them boys wear them jackets? _'Arry._ There's a stoopid question! Why, they're all jockeys a-training for the Ledger, of course! * * * * * EGGING HIM ON.--_Knowing old Gentleman._ Now, sir, talking of eggs, can you tell me where a ship lays to? _Smart Youth (not in the least disconcerted)._ Don't know, sir, unless it is in the hatchway. * * * * * RETREAT FOR COCKNEY IDLERS.--Earn nil. * * * * * [Illustration: AN EASTER OBJECT LESSON (_At the Natural History Museum_) _Visitor._ "Hullo! I say, I've got 'em agin! Gi' me the blue ribbon!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS BEST "SOOT." _Short-tempered Gentleman in Black (after violent collision with a stonemason fresh from work)._ "Now, I'll arsk you jest to look at the narsty beastly mess as you've gone and mide me in! Why, I'm simply smothered in some 'orrid white stuff!! Why don't yer be more careful!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD DURING ONE OF OUR RECENT STORMY DAYS. "What cheer, matey! Doin' any business?" "Garn! Wot yer gettin' at? I ain't 'ere to do business. I'm takin' the hopen hair treatment!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ALWAYS BE KIND TO DUMB ANIMALS. _Master._ "Jim!" _Page._ "Yessir." _Master._ "Rather a 'igh 'ill we're comin' to, ain't it?" _Page._ "Very 'igh 'ill indeed, sir." _Master._ "Ah! well, jest you jump down, Jim, and walk alongside a bit; it'll make it easier for the poor 'orse, you know."] * * * * * [Illustration: REAL SYMPATHY. _'Arry (reading account of the war in the East)._ "Ow, I s'y, 'Arriet, they've bin an' took old Li 'Ung Chang's three-heyed peacock's feathers all off 'im!" _'Arriet (compassionately)._ "Pore old feller!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SWEET LAVENDER!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "AUT CÆSAR AUT NULLUS." _Architect._ "What aspect would you like, Mr. Smithers?" _(who is about to build a house)_. _Mr. Smithers._ "Has Muggles"--(_a rival tradesman_)--"got a haspect? 'Cause--mind yer, I should like mine made a good deal bigger than 'is!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LAST STRAW. _Miss Effie has left her sun-shade on the other side of the rivulet. The chivalrous young De Korme attempts the dangerous pass in order to restore it to her. Obnoxiously Festive 'Arry (to him)._ "Ho, yuss! Delighted, I'm sure! _Drop in any time you're passin'!_"] * * * * * 'ARRY ON THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY DEAR CHARLIE, 'Ow are yer, old Turmuts? Gone mouldy, or moon-struck, or wot? Sticking down in the country, like you do, I tell yer, is all tommy-rot. Its town makes a man of one, Charlie, as me and the nobs 'as found out, And a snide 'un like you should be fly to it. Carn't fancy wot you're about. Old Ruskin, I know, sez quite t'other, but then _he_ is clean off his chump. Where's the _life_ in long lanes, with no gas-lamps? Their smell always give me the 'ump. Come hout on it, mate, it'll spile yer. It's May, and the season's begun, All the toffs is in town--ah! you trust 'em! _they_ know where to dropon the fun. Don't ketch _them_ a-Maying, my pippin, like bloomin' old Jacks-in-the-Green, A-sloppin' about in damp medders, with never a pub to be seen. No fear! We've primroses in tons--thanks to Beakey--for them as can pay. And other larks as _is_ larks, mate, they know meet in London in May. It is all very well, on a Sunday, for just arf a dozen or so To take a chay-cart down to Epsom, and cut down the may as yer go. I've 'ad 'igh old times on that lay, Charlie, gals, don't yer know, and all that, Returning at dusk with the beer on, and may branches all round yer 'at. With plenty of tuppenny smokes and 'am san'wiches, Charlie, old man, And a bit of good goods in pink musling, it ain't arf a bad sort o' plan. Concertina, in course, and tin whistle, to give 'em a rouser all round, And "chorus," all over the shop, till the winders'll shake at the sound. That's "May, merry May," if yer like, mate, and does your's ancetrar a treat. But the rural's a dose as wants mixing, it won't do to swaller it neat; That's wy the Haristos and 'Arry, and all as is fly to wot's wot, Likes passing the season in London, in spite of yer poetry rot. Country's all jolly fine in the autumn, with plenty of killing about-- Day's rabbitin's not a bad barney, and gull-potting's lummy, no doubt; But green fields with nothink to slorter, no pubs, no theaytres, no gas!-- No, no, it won't wash, and the muggins as tells yer it will is a hass. But May in "the village," my biffin, the mighty metrolopus,--ah! That's paradise, sir, and no kid, with a dash of the true lah-di-dah. Covent Garden licks Eden, I reckon, at least it'll do _me_ A 1; Button-'oler and Bond Street, old pal, that's yer fair top-row sarmple for fun! Wy, we git all the best of the country in London, with dollups chucked in. _Rush in herby!_--ascuse the Hitalian!--Ah, mate, ony wish I'd the tin; I'd take 'em a trot, and no flounders! It's 'ard, bloomin' 'ard, my dear boy, When form as is form ain't no fling, as a German ud say, _fo der quoy._ _I_'d make Mister Ruskin sit up, and the rest of the 'owlers see snakes, With their rot about old Mother Nature, as _never_ don't make no mistakes. Yah! Nature's a fraud and a fizzle, that is if yer can't fake her out With the taste of a man about town, ony sort as knows wot he 's about. Well, London's all yum-yum jest now. Hexhibitions all hover the shop, I tell yer it keeps one a-movin'. _I_'m on the perpetual 'op, Like the prince. Aitch har aitch _is_ a stayer, a fair royal Rowell, I say. (I landed a quid on _that_ "Mix," but I carnt git the beggar to pay.) "Inventories" open, you know. Rayther dry, but the _extrys_ O.K. It's the extrys, I 'old, make up life, arf the pleasure and most o' the pay. Yus, princes and painters, philanterpists, premiers and patriots may gush, But wot ud become of their shows if it weren't for the larks and the lush? Lor bless yer, dear boy, picter galleries, balls, sandwich sworries and all,-- It's fun and the fizz makes 'em go, not the picter, the speech or the squall. Keep yer eye on the buffet's my maxim, look out for the "jam" and the laugh, And you'll collar the pick o' the basket, the rest is all sordust and chaff. That's philosophy, Charlie, my pippin; the parsons and prigs may demur, But if you would foller _their_ tip, wy, you'll 'ave to go thundering fur. Ah! "May, merry May!" up in town, fills your snide 'un as full as he'll carry Of laughter and lotion. That's gospel to toffs and yours scrumptiously, 'ARRY. * * * * * [Illustration: A JUDGE OF CHARACTER. _Sympathetic Friend (to sweeper)._ "What's the use o' arstin' _'im_, Bill? _'E_ don't give away nothink less than a Gover'ment appointment, _'e_ don't!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BI-METALLISTIC DISCUSSION _Jim._ "What's this 'ere 'Bi-metallism,' Bill?" _Bill (of superior intelligence)._ "Well, yer see, Jim, it 's heither a licens'd wittlers' or a teetotal dodge. The wages'll be paid in silver, and no more coppers. So you can't get no arf-pint nor hanythink under a sixpence or a thrip'ny. Then you heither leaves it alone, and takes to water like a duck, or you runs up a score." _Jim._ "Ah! But if there ain't no more coppers, 'ow about the 'buses and the hunderground rileway?" _Bill (profoundly)._ "Ah!" [_Left sitting._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Cockney Macbeth (a trifle "fluffy" in his words) bellows out:_ "'Ang out our banners on the houtward walls! The cry is--'Let 'em _all_ come!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Hedwin._ "Hangeleener! Won't yer 'ear me? Wot 'ud yer sy if I told yer as I'd 'took the shillin'?" _Hangelina._ "Sy? Why--'halves'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Man Cleaning the Horse._ "Naa then lazy, w'y don't yer do some work?" _New Hand (loafing)._ "I'm agoin' to." _M. C. H._ "Wot are yer goin' ter do?" _N. H._ "'Elp you." _M. C. H._ "Come alorng, then." _N. H._ "All rite. You go orn, I'm agoin' ter do the 'issing."] * * * * * [Illustration: "BACK TO THE LAND." _Old Farmer Worsell (who is experimenting with unemployed from London)._ "Now then, young feller, 'ow long are you goin' to be with that 'ere milk?" _Young Feller._ "I caunt 'elp it, guv'nor. I bin watchin' 'er arf an hour, and she ain't laid any yit."] * * * * * [Illustration: "'Ere, just 'old my broom a minute. I'm just goin' up the street. If any of my regular customers comes, just arst 'em to wait a bit!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ART IN WHITECHAPEL. "Well, that's what I calls a himpossible persition to get yerself into!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Loafer (looking at a hundred pound dressing-bag)._ "I wonder wot sort of a bloke it is as wants a bag of tools like that to doss 'isself up with?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Comin' up to 'Yde Park to 'ave a bave, 'Arry?" "Yers--an' 'ave all me cloves run orf wiv. Not if _I_ know it!"] * * * * * THE COCKNEY'S ADDRESS TO THE SEA.--"With all thy faults I love thee _still_." * * * * * A COSTERMONGER'S CANT Bill Coster said, "See them two fish? Them there's both females, mister; A pilchard she in this here dish: That 'ere's her errin' sister." * * * * * FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS.--(_By a Cockney._) Why should not Dr. Watts' poems be read by youth? Because they contain _Hymn-morality_. * * * * * A LINE FROM BROWNING (_For hairdressers who recommend a wonderful "Restorative," and are careless of the aspirate._) "An everlasting wash of air." * * * * * A COCKNEY CON.--When may a man really be supposed to be hungry? When he goes to Nor-(gnaw)wood for his dinner. * * * * * [Illustration: SO VERY CONSIDERATE. _Stout Coster._ "Where are ye goin' to, Bill?" _Bill._ "Inter the country for a nice drive, bein' Bank 'Olidy." _Stout Coster._ "Same 'ere. I sy! don't yer think we might swop misseses just for a few hours? It would be so much kinder to the hanimile!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _'Arry (whose "Old Dutch" has been shopping, and has kept him waiting a considerable time)._ "Wot d'yer mean, keepin' me standin' abaat 'ere like a bloomin' fool?" _'Arriet._ "_I_ can't 'elp the way yer stand, 'Arry."] * * * * * [Illustration: VERY DRY WEATHER. "'Ooray, Bill! 'Ere's luck! I gorr' 'nother tanner! Leshgobackag'in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: 'EARD ON 'AMPSTEAD 'EATH ----"And talk of our bein' be'ind the French in general edication, why all I can say is as it's the commonest thing in Paree, for instance (over fust-class restorongs, too, mind yer), to see 'dinner' spelt with only one 'N'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DIAGNOSIS. "I can tell you what _you're_ suffering from, my good fellow! You're suffering from _acne_!" "_'Ackney?_ Why, that's just what _t'other_ medical gent he told me! _I only wish I'd never been near the place!_"] * * * * * THE CAD'S CALENDAR JANUARY. January! Tailor's bill comes in. Blow that blooming snip! I'm short o' tin. Werry much enjoyed my Autumn caper, But three quid fifteen do look queer paper. Want another new rig out, wuss luck, Gurl at Boodle's bar seems awful struck, Like to take her to the pantermime; That and oysters after _would_ be prime. Fan's a screamer; this top coat would blue it, Yaller at the seams, black ink won't do it. Wonder if old snip would spring another? Boots, too, rayther seedy; beastly bother! Lots o' larks that empty pockets "queer." Can't do much on fifty quid a year. FEBRUARY. Febrywary! High old time for sprees! Now's yer chance the gals to please or tease, Dowds to guy and pooty ones to wheedle, And to give all rival chaps the needle. Crab your enemies,--I've got a many, You can pot 'em proper for a penny. My! Them walentines do 'it 'em 'ot. Fust-rate fun; I always buy a lot. Prigs complain they're spiteful, Lor' wot stuff! I can't ever get 'em strong enough. Safe too; no one twigs your little spree, If you do it on the strict Q. T. If you're spoons, a flowery one's your plan. Mem: I sent a proper one to Fan. MARCH. March! I'm nuts upon a windy day, Gurls do git in such a awful way. Petticoats yer know, and pooty feet; Hair all flying--tell you it's a treat. Pancake day. Don't like 'em--flabby, tough, Rayther do a pennorth o' plum-duff. Seediness shows up as Spring advances, Ah! the gurls do lead us pretty dances. Days a-lengthening. Think I spotted Fan Casting sheep's eyes at another man. Quarter-day, too, no more chance of tick. Fancy I shall 'ave to cut my stick. Got the doldrums dreadful, that is clear. Two _d._ left--must go and do a beer. APRIL. April! All Fools' Day's a proper time. Cop old gurls and guy old buffers prime. Scissors! don't they goggle and look blue When you land them with a regular "do"? Lor! the world would not be worth a mivvey If there warn't no fools to cheek and chivy. Then comes Easter. Got some coin in 'and, Trot a bonnet out and do the grand. Fan all flounce and flower; fellows mad Heye us henvious; nuts to me, my lad. 'Ampstead! 'Ampton! Which is it to be? Fan--no flat--prefers the Crystal P. Nobby togs, high jinks, and lots o' lotion, That's the style to go it, I've a notion! MAY. May! The month o' flowers. Spooney sell! "Rum 'ot with," is wot _I_ likes to smell. Beats yer roses holler. A chice weed Licks all flowers that ever run to seed. Nobby button'oler very well When one wants to do the 'eavy swell; Otherwise don't care not one brass farden, For the best ever blowed in Covent Garden. Fan, though, likes 'em, cost a pretty pile, Rayther stiff, a tanner for a smile. Blued ten bob last time I took 'er out, Left my silver ticker up the spout. Women are sech sharks! If I don't drop 'er. Guess that I shall come a hawful cropper! JUNE. June! A jolly month; sech stunning weather. Fan and I have lots of outs together: Rorty on the river, sech prime 'unts, Foul the racers, run into the punts. Prime to 'ear the anglers rave and cuss, When in quiet "swims" we raise a muss. Snack on someone's lawn upon the quiet. Won't the owner raise a tidy riot When he twigs our scraps and broken bottles? Cheaper this than rustyrongs or hottles, Whitsuntide 'ud be a lot more gay If it warn't so near to quarter-day. Snip turns sour, pulls "county-courting" faces. Must try and land a little on the races. JULY. 'Ot July! Just nicked a handy fiver (Twenty-five to one on old "Screw-driver"!) New rig-out. This mustard colour mixture Suits me nobby. Fan appears a fixture. Gurls like style, you know, and colour ketches 'em, But good show of ochre,--_that's_ what fetches 'em, Wimbledon! _I'm_ not a Wolunteer. Discipline don't suit this child--no fear! But we 'ave fine capers at the camp, Proper, but for that confounded scamp: Punched my 'ead because I guyed his shooting. Fan I fancied rather 'ighfaluting; Ogled the big beggar as he propped me. Would 'a licked 'im if _she_ 'adn't stopped me. AUGUST. August! Time to think about my outing. No dibs yet, though, so it's no use shouting. Make the best of the Bank 'Oliday. Fan "engaged"! Don't look too bloomin' gay, Drop into the bar to do a beer, Twig her talking to that Volunteer. Sling my 'ook instanter sharp and short, Took Jemimer down to 'Ampton Court. Not 'arf bad, that gurl. Got rather screwed, Little toff complained as I was rude. 'It 'im in the wind, he went like death; Weak, consumptive cove and short o' breath. Licked 'im proper, dropped 'im like a shot,-- Only wish that Fan had seen _that_ lot. SEPTEMBER. 'Ere's September! 'Oliday at last! Off to Margit--mean to go it fast. Mustard-coloured togs still fresh as paint, Like to know who's natty, if _I_ ain't. Got three quid; have cried a go with Fan, Game to spend my money like a man. But sticking tight to one gal ain't no fun-- Here's no end of prime 'uns on the run; Carn't resist me somehow, togs and tile All A 1--make even swell ones smile. Lor! if I'd the ochre, make no doubt I could cut no end of big pots out. Call me cad? When money's in the game, Cad and swell are pooty much the same. OCTOBER. Now October! Back again to collar, Funds run low, reduced to last 'arf-dollar. Snip on rampage, boots a getting thin, 'Ave to try the turf to raise some tin. Evenings getting gloomy; high old games; Music 'alls! Look up the taking names. Proper swells them pros.! If I'd my choice, There's my mark. Just wish I'd got a voice; Cut the old den to-morrow, lots of cham., Cabs and diamonds,--ain't that real jam? Got the straight tip for the Siezerwitch, If I _honly_ land it, I'll be rich. Guess next mornin' wouldn't find me sober-- Allays get the blues about October. NOVEMBER. Dull November! Didn't land that lot. Fear my father's son is going to pot. Fan jest passed me, turned away 'er eyes, Guess she ranked me with the _other_ guys, Nobby larks upon the ninth, my joker; But it queers a chap to want the ochre. Nothing like a crowd for regular sprees, Ain't it fine to do a rush, and squeeze? Twig the women fainting! Oh, it's proper! Bonnet buffers when the blooming copper Can't get near yer nohow. Then the fogs! Rare old time for regular jolly dogs. If a chap's a genuine 'ot member, He _can_ keep the game up in November! DECEMBER. Dun December! Dismal, dingy, dirty. Still short commons--makes a chap feel shirty. Snip rampageous, drops a regular summons. Fan gets married; ah! them gurls is rum 'uns! After all the coin I squandered on 'er! Want it now. A 'eap too bad, 'pon honour, Snow! Ah, that's yer sort, though, and no error. Treat to twig the women scud in terror. Hot 'un in the eye for that old feller; Cold 'un down 'is neck, bust his umbreller. Ha! ha! Then Christmas,--'ave a jolly feast! The boss will drop a tip,--hope so, at least. If I don't land some tin, my look-out's queer. Well, let's drink, boys--"Better luck next year!" * * * * * [Illustration: STUDIES IN ANIMAL LIFE. The chick-a-leary cochin.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Swell (who won't be done)._ "H 'yars my kyard if you'd--ah--like to summon me." _Cabby (who has pulled up and heard the dispute)._ "Don't you take it, Bill. It's his ticket o' leave!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A LABOUR OF LOVE! _Benevolent Lady (who has with infinite trouble organised a country excursion for some over-worked London dressmakers)._ "Then mind you're at the station at nine to-morrow, Eliza. I do hope it won't rain!" "_Rine_, miss! I 'owp not, to be sure! The country's bad enough when it's _foine_, yn't it, miss?"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON EPSOM DOWNS "Get onto 'is neck, like me, Halfred, an' they'll take us for jockeys!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Tompkins._ "That fellow Brown tried to stuff me up with some of his travellers' tales the other day. Talked about his trip to Italy, and the waving fields of macaroni, but he didn't catch me, you know. They _don't_ wave!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GUILE. _Old Lady._ "You know the 'Royal Oak'? Well, you turn to the right, past the 'Jolly Gardener,' till you come to the 'Red Lion'----" _Artful Cabby._ "O, don't tell me the 'ouses, mum! Name some o' the churches, and then I shall know where I am!!" [_Asks, and gets, an exorbitant fare without a murmur._ ] * * * * * RUS IN URBE (_A Cockney Rhapsody_) As I stroll through Piccadilly, Scent of blossoms borne from Scilly Greet me. Jonquil, rose, and lily, Violet and daffydowndilly. Oh, the feeling sweet and thrilly That these blossoms flounced and frilly From soft plains and headlands hilly Bring my breast in Piccadilly! It subdues me, willy nilly, Though such sentiment seems silly, And a bunch, dear, buys your Willy, To dispatch, by post, to Milly, Dwelling, far from Piccadilly, In moist lowlands, rushed and rilly, Blossomy as Penzance or Scilly. Sweets to the sweet! "Poor Silly-Billy!" You may say in accents trilly. When the postman in the stilly Eve, from distant Piccadilly, Bears this box of rose and lily, Violet and daffodilly, To the rural maiden, Milly, From her urban lover, Willy. P.S.-- Dry as toke and skilly, Is this arid Piccadilly, Notwithstanding rose and lily, All the beauteous blooms of Scilly, Reft of that flower of flowers--Milly. So, at least, thinks "Silly Billy." * * * * * A COCKNEY'S EXCLAMATION UPON SEEING THE CELEBRATED HEIDELBERG TON.--"Well, it is (s)ton-ning!" * * * * * [Illustration: NATURAL HISTORY NOTES _Country Cousin._ "Lor, Bill, ain't that a horstrich?" _Bill._ "_Horstrich?_ 'Corse not. That 'ere's a _mongoose_!"] * * * * * SHAKESPEARE ON BLACKHEATH I saw young 'Arry with his billycock on, Checked trousers on his thighs, with knob stick armed, Climb from the ground like fat pig up a pole, And flop with such sore toil into his saddle, As though a bran-bag dropped down from the clouds, To turn and wind a slow "Jerusalem," And shock the world with clumsy assmanship. * * * * * 'ARRY'S LATEST CONUNDRUM.--Why is a title-page like charity?--Becos it always begins a tome. (Begins at 'ome, don'tcher see!) * * * * * [Illustration: _Cockney Friend._ "Good 'evins! there's a pheasant!" _Country Friend._ "Well, what of it?" _Cockney._ "Why, it ain't the fust of Hoctober?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady Visitor (at work-girls' club, giving some advice on manners)._ "And you know ladies never speak to gentlemen without an introduction." _'Liza._ "We knows yer don't, miss, an' we offen pities yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN IDYLL _Hemma._ "Oh, 'Arry, hain't this 'eavenly! You'll promise to give me 'am sandwiches always, when we're married, won't yer?" _'Arry._ "'Corse I will!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Workman._ "Why don't yer buy yer _own_ matches, 'stead of always cadgin' mine?" _Second Workman._ "You're uncommon mean with yer matches. I'll just take a few"--(_helps himself to two-thirds_)--"and be hinderpendent of yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ERRAND BOYS _First Boy._ "Where are yer goin' to, Bill?" _Second Boy._ "I've got to go right over 'Ammersmith Bridge to Barnes, then I'se got to go to Putney and back by Fulham Road, then to 'Igh Street, Kensington." _First Boy._ "Why, I've got to go to 'Igh Street. You go on. I'm in a bit of a hurry, but _I'll wait for yer_!"] * * * * * MOST MUSICAL, MOST MELANCHOLY.--A Cockney gentleman who had been hearing a concert of old music, where every piece that was performed was in the programme termed an "op.," observed, as he went out, "Well, after all these 'ops, I vote we have some malt." * * * * * COCKNEYISM IN THE COUNTRY.--_1st Cockney._ I say, what sort of a 'ouse will do for a fowl-'ouse? _2nd Cockney._ Lor' bless yer, _hen_-ny 'ouse. * * * * * CONUNDRUM FOR COCKNEYS.--Which has the greater amount of animal heat, the beaver or the otter? Why, of course, the _otter_ of the two. * * * * * SONG OF THE COCKNEY SPORTSMAN How happy could I be in heather, At the grouse gaily blazing away! But then, somehow, I can't touch a feather, So 'tis better at Brighton to stay. * * * * * PRO BONO.--There is one first-rate joint that comes to table which is the Cockney's prime aversion--the h-bone. * * * * * [Illustration: A MODEL MODEL. (_The artist is rather shy, and has left his model to do the honours of his studio._) "From whom did Mr. M'Gilp paint that head?" "From yours obediently, madam. I sit for the 'eads of all 'is 'oly men." "He must find you a very useful person." "Yes, madam. I order his frames, stretch his canvases, wash his brushes, set his palette, and mix his colours. All _he's_ got to do is just to _shove 'em on!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tripper._ "'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Where's the change out o' that bob I gave yer?" _Bystander._ "Don't worry about it, cocky; ain't you got the bloomin' 'oss as security!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Holiday Driver (returning from a pic-nic)._ "Excuse me, sir, but can you see anything wrong with the 'arness of this 'ere 'orse?"] * * * * * SPORTSMEN AT SEA. _(Tom exhibiting a tern which he has shot)._ I say, 'Arry, wot bird 's this 'ere? _'Arry._ A auk, I should say. _Tom._ What yer calls a sparrerawk? _'Arry._ No. Hay, u, k, auk, without the sparrer. * * * * * A COCKNEY'S EPITAPH THINK! "From the cradle to the grave!" my brother, A nurse takes you from one, an 'earse to t'other. * * * * * A VULGAR ERROR.--Misplacing the haspirate. * * * * * A CHEVALIERESQUE CONUNDRUM.--_Coster Bill (to 'Arriet)._ I si! When is your young man like a fish out of water? _'Arriet._ Oh, g'long! Give't up. _Coster Bill._ Why, when 'es a _witin'_ round the corner. [Short encounter, and exeunt severally. * * * * * [Illustration: A CAPITAL ANSWER. _"Self-made" Man (examining school, of which he is a manager)._ "Now, boy, what's the capital of 'Olland?" _Boy._ "An 'H,' sir."] * * * * * DISCOVERED IN DRURY LANE (_Near the new Baker Street Lodging House established by the County Council._) I 'old it true wote'er befall, I feel it when things go most cross, Better do a fi'penny doss, Than never do a doss at all! * * * * * UNIVERSITY SYMPATHY. _First Errand Boy (after the University Boat Race)._ Wot 'ave yer got a light blue ribbon in yer button 'ole for, Tommy? _Second E. B. (promptly)._ 'Cos our 'ouse allus sells Cambridge sausages! * * * * * A MATTER OF TASTE. _Vulgar Parvenu (who is watching the interior decorations of his house)._ "Don't you think that tapestry 'eats the rooms?" _Artistic Decorator._ "Very possibly, sir; you see, it's Goblin (_Gobelin_)." * * * * * [Illustration: THE IRREPRESSIBLE. _Street Boy (to cabby, in a block)._ "Look 'ere, are you a goin' on wi' this four wheeler?--'r else me an' my friend'll get down an' walk!" [_Retires hastily._ ] * * * * * AUDACIOUS 'ARRYISM.--Our friend 'Arry objects to the title of a recently published novel, "Airy Fairy Lilian." He says that he can't imagine a fairy all over 'air, though he might an 'obgoblin. * * * * * THE BAGMAN'S BAG Hark how the cockney sportsman drops His aitches o'er the glades and glens, But, at hen pheasents though he pops, Your 'Arry never drops his n's. * * * * * A PAIR OF "NIPPERS."--A coster's twins. * * * * * COCKNEY CLASSICS. "Jack," said Robins, "which varsity would you rayther go to, Hoxford or 'Idleberg?" "Hoxford, Jemmy, to be sure, you muff," answered Robbins. "'Cos vy, I prefers hindustry to hidleness." * * * * * [Illustration: A BANK HOLIDAY REMINISCENCE. _'Arry._ "Ow much an hour, guv'nor?" _Horsekeeper._ "Eighteenpence." _'Arry._ "All right. I'll have a ride." _Horsekeeper._ "Well, you've got to leave 'arf a crown on the 'orse?"] * * * * * [Illustration: POOR LETTER "H" "Have you got any _whole_ strawberry jam?" "No, miss. All ours is quite new!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS OF THE SUMMER "The weather seems to be improving, Nupkins!" "Yes, miss; the nightingale and the cuckoo is a-'ollerin', every night!"] * * * * * 'ARRY ON 'ORSEBACK Our 'Arry goes 'unting and sings with a will, "The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill"; And oft, when a saddle looks terribly bare, The 'eels of our 'Arry are seen in the air! * * * * * COCKNEY EPITAPH FOR A COOK.--"Peace to his hashes." * * * * * "A Horse," observed a Scotch vet., "may have a very good appetite, and yet be unable to eat a bit." "Ah," said 'Arry, "there's the difference between a 'oss and a ostridge, which could eat bit, snaffle, curb and all." * * * * * LE SPORT. A Cockney sportsman, wishing to introduce hare-hunting into France, is seriously meditating a work on the subject, to be entitled, _Arrière-pensées_; _or, Thoughts on Keeping 'Ariers_. His _nom de plume_ will be _Le petit Jean du_ Jockey Club. * * * * * [Illustration: _'Arriet (as a bee alights on her hand)._ "My word, 'Arry, wot a pretty fly!" (_Sting._) "Crikey! ain't 'is feet 'ot!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "'Ullo, Jim, look 'ere! 'Ere's a noo stachoo! Lend us yer knife!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jinks._ "I want to buy a dog. I don't know what they call the breed, but it is something the shape of a greyhound, with a short curly tail and rough hair. Do you keep dogs like that?" _Fancier._ "No. I drowns 'em!"] * * * * * COCKNEY PHILOSOPHY. The Socratic mode of argument is the only true mode of chopping logic, because it proceeds altogether on the principle of axing questions. * * * * * 'ARRY PUTS 'EM RIGHT. The _Daily Chronicle_--recently suggested that the plural of rhinoceros is a disputed point. 'Arry writes: "What O, _Mr. P._, 'disputed'?--not a bit. Any kiddy as 'as 'ad 'arf an eddication knows what the plural of ''oss' is, don't he? No matter as to its bein' spelt ''os' or ''oss.' Plural, anyway ''osses.' 'Bus-'os'--'Bus-'osses.' 'Rhinocer-os'--'Rhinocer-osses.' That's as plain as an 'aystack, ain't it?" "Yours, "'ARRY." * * * * * DEFINITION FOR A DINER-OUT.--An unlicensed wittler, quoth our worthy 'ost.--'ARRY. * * * * * [Illustration: FERVOUR IN THE FOG _Unpromising Individual (suddenly--his voice vibrating with passion)._ "She's moy unney; Oim 'er joy!"] * * * * * "Ah!" exclaimed, enthusiastically, a hairdresser's assistant who had been out for a holiday. "'Ind 'Ead, in Surrey! That's the place for hair!" * * * * * THE REAL LONDON PRIDE.--We know an inveterate Cockney who declares that London milk beats the country milk, and beats it "_by many chalks_." * * * * * GOOD PAPER FOR DEAF COCKNEYS.--_The 'Earer._ * * * * * THE MUSICAL COSTER CRAZE.--_Customer._ Have you a copy of Costa's _Eli_? _Shopman._ No, sir; we have none of Chevalier's songs. * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, 'Arry, don't we look frights!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, Bill, oo was this 'ere Nelson as everybody wos a talkin' about?" "Why, 'e was the chap as turned the French out of Trafalgar Square!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Bill, can you lend me twopence?" "Wot a silly question to arst! Why, if I 'ad twopence, wot 'ud I be doin' standin' outside a public 'ouse?"] * * * * * A SONG OF SPRING _By a Cockney Poet._ All hail, thou jocund time of year, To Cockneys and cock-robins dear! All hail, thou flowery, showery season, When throstles, mating, perch the trees on: When sparrows on the house-tops sit, And court their loves with cheery twit: While opera songsters tune their throats, Exchanging for our gold their notes! Now Nature her new dress receives, And dinner-tables spread their leaves; Asparagus again one sees, And early ducklings, served with peas; Again the crisp whitebait we crunch, And chops of lambkin blithely munch; Salmon again our shops afford, And plovers' eggs adorn the board; While for one day at least our sons May stuff themselves with hot cross buns! See now the swells begin to show Their horsemanship in Rotten Row: See now the Drive is thronged once more, And idlers lounge there as of yore: See now fair April fills Mayfair, And gives new life to Grosvenor Square. See now what crowds flock to the Zoo, Where Master Hippo is on view See daffodils, and daisies pied In bloom, and buttercups beside: See now the thorn, and e'en the rose Signs of returning Spring disclose: See now the lilac large in bud; While costermongers, splashed with mud, The product of the passing showers, Cry, "Here's yer all a blowing flowers!" Or wake the echoes of the groves[A] With "Hornaments for yer fire-stoves!" [Footnote A: Westbourne Grove, Lisson Grove, Camden Grove, &c.] * * * * * [Illustration: _'Appy 'Arry_-- "With my new panama-a-ar And tupp'ny ciga-a-ar."] * * * * * [Illustration: ENCOURAGING, VERY! _Cockney Art-Teacher (newly arrived and nervous--after a long silence)._ "If you _should_ see a chance o' drorin' any thing correctly--DO SO!!" [_Collapse of expectant student._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: STANDING NO NONSENSE. _'Arry._ "Phew!"--(_the weather was warm, and they had walked over from 'Ammersmith_)--"bring us a bottle o'champagne, waiter." _Waiter._ "Yessir--dry, sir?" _'Arry (aughtily, to put a stop to this familiarity at once)._ "Never you mind whether we're dry or whether we ain't!--bring the wine!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHEREDITY. _Lady._ "You don't mean to tell me that this little girl is fit to wait at table!" _Mother (proudly)._ "Well 'm, she _ought_ to be, seein' as 'ow 'er father 'as been a _plate layer_ for five-and-twenty year!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady (referring to programme, to friend)._ "'Schumann, op. 2.' What's the meaning of 'op. 2'?" _'Arry (who thinks he is being addressed, and always ready to oblige with information)._ "Oh, op. 2. Second dance; second 'op, yer know. May I 'ave the pleasure?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SALE OF INTOXICANTS TO CHILDREN BILL. "It's another hinjustice to hus pore wimmen, it is! They won't let us send the kids for it now, an' if my heldest boy goes for it 'e 'as 'arf of it 'isself, 'an' if my old man goes 'e never comes back! so the hend of it is, I 'ave to go for it myself!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISCOURAGING. _Nervous Philanthropist (on a slumming excursion)._ "Can you tell me if this is Little Erebus Street, my man?" _Suspicious-looking Party._ "Yus." _Nervous P._ "Er--rather a rough sort of thoroughfare, isn't it?" _Suspicious-looking P._ "Yus; it is a bit thick. The further yer gows daown, the thicker it gits. I lives in the last 'aouse." [_Exit philanthropist hurriedly in the opposite direction._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FESTIVE SEASON. _First Burglar._ "'Ere's a go, mate! This 'ere bit o' turkey, knuckile hend of an 'am, arf a sossidge, and the 'olly off the plum-puddin'! Might as well 'ave looked in on a bloomin' vegetarian!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Temperance Orator._ "Ho, pause, my dear friends, pause!" _A Voice._ "Ye're right, ole man, _they are_!"] * * * * * COCKNEY HOBSERVATION. Cockneys are not the only people who drop or exasperate the "h's." It is done by common people in the provinces, and you may laugh at them for it. The deduction therefore is, that a peasant, with an "h," is fair game. * * * * * NEW COCKNEY SAINT.--Mrs. Malaprop declares that if she lives to be a hundred--and all her family detain a venerated age--she will certainly have a Saint 'Enery. * * * * * RIDDLE BY 'ARRY.--"Look 'ere, if you're speakin' of a young unmarried lady bein' rather 'uffy, what well-known river would you name?--Why, '_Miss is 'ippy_,' o' course." * * * * * [Illustration: EASTER MONDAY _'Arry._ "Do you pass any pubs on the way to Broadstairs, cabby?" _Cabby._ "Yes. Lots." _'Arry._ "Well, _don't!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I think you dropped this?"] * * * * * THE END BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
39707	----	MR. PUNCH'S LIFE IN LONDON PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch", from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. MR. PUNCH'S LIFE IN LONDON [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Fussy Old Lady._ "Now, _don't_ forget, conductor, I _want the Bank of England_." _Conductor._ "_All_ right, mum." (_Aside._) "She _don't_ want _much_, do she, mate?"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S LIFE IN LONDON. [Illustration] AS PICTURED BY PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, G. D. ARMOUR, F. H. TOWNSEND, FRED PEGRAM, C. E. BROCK, TOM BROWNE, A. S. BOYD, A. WALLIS MILLS, STARR WOOD, DUDLEY HARDY, AND MANY OTHER HUMORISTS. _IN 180 ILLUSTRATIONS_ [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages, fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN * * * * * [Illustration: SHAKESPEARE ON THE STREETS (_See "King Henry the Fourth," Act III., Sc. 1._) _Glendower_ (_to Hotspur_). Cousin of many men, I do not bear these crossings.] * * * * * [Illustration: A SKETCH IN REGENT STREET.--Puzzle--On which side are the shop windows?] * * * * * ROUND THE TOWN In the sixty-six years of his existence MR. PUNCH has at one time or another touched upon every phase of life in London. He has moved in high society; he has visited the slums; he has been to the churches, the theatres, the concert rooms; he has travelled on the railways, in the 'buses and the cabs; he has amused himself on 'Change; he has gone shopping; he has lounged in the clubs, been a shrewd watcher and listener at the Law Courts, dined in the hotels and restaurants, sat in Parliament, made merry in the servants' hall, loitered along the pavements with a quick eye and ear for the wit and humour of the streets, and dropped in casually, a genial and observant visitor, at the homes and haunts of all sorts and conditions of men and women. Obviously it is impossible that the fruits of all this adventuring could be gathered into a single volume; some of them are garnered already in other volumes of this series, in books that deal particularly with MR. PUNCH'S representations of what he has seen and heard of Society, of the Cockney, of the Lawyers, of our Domestics, of Clubmen and Diners-out, of the Theatres; therefore, in the present volume, we have limited him in the main to his recollections of the actual civic life in London, to his diversions on the Stock Exchange and in the Money Market generally, his pictured and written quips and jests about London's businesses and business men, with glimpses of what he knows of the variously dazzling and more or less strenuous life that everywhere environs these. * * * * * [Illustration: SUBJECT FOR A DECORATIVE PANEL.--Road "up." Time--in the height of the season. Place--everywhere.] * * * * * [Illustration] MR. PUNCH'S LIFE IN LONDON THE CITY "ARTICLE."--Money. * * * * * FROM THE STREETS.--A street conjuror complained the other day that he couldn't throw the knives and balls about, because he did not feel in the vein. "In what vein?" asked a bystander, weakly. "The juggler vein, of course, stupid!" was the answer. [_The bystander retired._ * * * * * A LIGHT EMPLOYMENT.--Cleaning windows. * * * * * "_The Model Ready Reckoner._"--The man with his last shilling. * * * * * MONEY-MARKET AND CITY INTELLIGENCE.--Operators for the rise--aeronauts; likewise anglers. * * * * * JUST OFF--THE BOURSE.--_Stockbroker_ (_to Client who has been pretty well loaded with certain scrip_). Well, it just comes to this. Are you prepared to go the whole hog or none? _Client_ (_timidly_). I think I'd rather go the none. * * * * * WHAT COLOUR SHOULD PARASITES DRESS IN?--Fawn. * * * * * HOUSEHOLD HINTS FOR ECONOMICAL MANAGERS _How to Obtain a good Serviceable Light Porter._--Take a pint of stout, and add a quart of spring water. There you have him. _How to make Hats last._--Make everything else first. _How to Prevent Ale from Spoiling._--Drink it. _How to Avoid being Considered above your Business._--Never live over your shop. _How to make your Servants rise._--Send them up to sleep in the attics. * * * * * [Illustration: _Bus Driver_ (_to charioteer of broken-down motor-car_). "I've been tellin' yer all the week to taike it 'ome, an' now yer wants to, yer cawn't!"] * * * * * THE STREETS OF LONDON The stately streets of London Are always "up" in Spring, To ordinary minds an ex- traordinary thing. Then cabs across strange ridges bound, Or sink in holes, abused With words resembling not, in sound, Those Mrs. Hemans used. The miry streets of London, Dotted with lamps by night; What pitfalls where the dazzled eye Sees doubly ruddy light! For in the season, just in May, When many meetings meet, The jocund vestry starts away, And closes all the street. The shut-up streets of London! How willingly one jumps From where one's cab must stop through pools Of mud, in dancing pumps! When thus one skips on miry ways One's pride is much decreased, Like Mrs. Gilpin's, for one's "chaise" Is "three doors off" at least. The free, fair streets of London Long, long, in vestry hall, May heads of native thickness rise, When April showers fall; And green for ever be the men Who spend the rates in May, By stopping all the traffic then In such a jocose way! * * * * * [Illustration: _Straphanger_ (_in first-class compartment, to first-class passenger_). "I say, guv'nor, 'ang on to this 'ere strap a minute, will yer, while I get a light?"] * * * * * THE GAS-FITTER'S PARADISE.--Berners Street. * * * * * CIVIC WIT.--A City friend of ours, who takes considerable interest in the fattening of his fowls, alleges, as a reason, that he is an advocate for widening the Poultry. * * * * * TO AUCTIONEERS.--The regulations regarding sales are not to be found in any _bye_ laws. * * * * * POETRY AND FINANCE.--Among all the quotations in all the money market and City articles who ever met with a line of verse? * * * * * ANYTHING BUT AN ALDERMAN'S MOTTO.--"Dinner forget." * * * * * A GENTLEMAN who lives by his wits.--_Mr. Punch._ * * * * * DEFINITION.--The Mansion House--A mayor's nest. * * * * * [Illustration: IN A TRAM-CAR _Lady_ (_with smelly basket of fish_). "Dessay you'd rather 'ave a gentleman settin' a-side of you?" _Gilded Youth_ (_who has been edging away_). "Yes, I would." _Lady._ "Same'ere!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Inquisitive Guardian._ "By the way, have you any children?" _Applicant for Relief._ "No." _Guardian._ "But--er--surely I know a son of yours?" _Applicant._ "Well, I don't suppose you'd call a _child_ children!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Please, sir, tuppence worth of butter scrapin's, an' mother says be sure they're all _clean_, 'cause she's expectin' company."] * * * * * [Illustration: UNCONSCIONABLE _Head of the Firm._ "Want a holiday!? Why, you've just been at home ill for a month!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FORCE OF HABIT _Traveller_ (_suffering from the Heat of Weather, &c._). "Wesh Bromp'n--shingl'--cold 'th bit o' lemon--loo' sharp--'r else shan't kesh my train!"] * * * * * THE EXILED LONDONER I roam beneath a foreign sky, That sky is cloudless, warm and clear; And everything is glad but I;-- But ah! my heart is far from here. They bid me look on forests green, And boundless prairies stretching far; But I rejoice not in their sheen, And longing turn to Temple Bar. They bid me list the torrent's roar, In all its foaming, bounding pride; But I, I only think the more On living torrents in Cheapside! They bid me mark the mighty stream, Which Mississippi rolls to sea; But then I sink in pensive dream, And turn my thoughts, dear Thames, to thee! They bid me note the mountains high, Whose snow-capp'd peaks my prospect end; I only heave a secret sigh-- To Ludgate Hill my wishes tend. They taunt me with our denser air, And fogs so thick you scarce can see; Then, yellow fog, I will declare, Though strange to say, I long for thee. And everything in this bright clime But serves to turn my thoughts to thee! Thou, London, of an earlier time, Oh! when shall I return to thee? * * * * * [Illustration: _Customer._ "That dog I bought last week has turned out very savage. He's already bitten a little girl and a policeman, and----" _Dealer._ "Lor'! how 'e's changed, mum! He wasn't at all particular what he ate 'ere!"] * * * * * PANIC IN THE CITY TIME--3.30 P.M. _Excited Stockbroker._--By Jove! it's serious now. _Other dittos._ Hey? what? _Excited Stockbroker._ Rothschild's "gone"-- _Clients_ (_new to City, thunderstruck_). _Gone!_ Rothschild!!--but-- _Excited Stockbroker._ Yes. _Gone to Paris._ _Exit._ * * * * * WHAT TO EXPECT AT AN HOTEL.--Inn-attention. * * * * * A QUESTION FOR LLOYD'S.--Are sub-editors underwriters? * * * * * INCIDENTS OF TAXATION.--Collectors and summonses. * * * * * WHAT A CITY COMPANY DOES.--It may not be generally known that the duty of the Spectacle-makers is to get up the Lord Mayor's Show. Glasses round, and then they proceed to business. * * * * * IMPOSSIBLE PHRASE.--The happy rich, the happy poor, both quite possible. But, "the happy mean"--oh no--impossible. * * * * * SONG FOR THE TOWN-TIED SPORTSMAN.--"How happy could I be with _heather_!" * * * * * [Illustration: PROGRESS.--(_Overheard in Kensington._ Time, 9 A.M.).--_Fair Club Member_ (_lately married, to friend_). "Bye, bye! Can't stop! Must rush off, or I shall be _scratched for the billiard handicap_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Policeman_ (_to slightly sober individual, who is wobbling about in the road amongst the traffic_). "Come, old man, walk on the pavement." _Slightly Sober Individual._ "_Pavement!_ Who do you take me for? _Blondin?_"] * * * * * [Illustration: SKETCHED IN OXFORD STREET] * * * * * INSCRIPTION TO BE PLACED OVER THE STOCK EXCHANGE.--"_Bear_ and for-_bear_." * * * * * THE PRICE OF BREAD.--Twists have taken a turn; and cottages have come down in some places, owing to the falls of bricks, which continue to give way rapidly. A baker near one of the bridges has not had a roll over, which is to be accounted for by his having come down in regular steps to a level with the lower class of consumers. Plaster of Paris is in some demand, and there have been some mysterious transactions in sawdust by the baker who liberally deals with the workhouse. * * * * * [Illustration: SYMPHONY IN BLACK. The vassal who does soot and service.] * * * * * OFFICIAL ORDER.--All cabmen plying within hail are to be supplied with umbrellas by Government. * * * * * [Illustration: HE DIDN'T MEAN TO LOSE THAT "Miffins, the book-keeper, tells me that you have lost the key of the safe, and he cannot get at the books." "Yes, sir, one of them. You gave me two, you remember." "Yes; I had duplicates made in case of accident. And the other?" "Oh, sir, I took care of that. I was afraid I might lose one of them, you know." "And is the other all right?" "Yes, sir. I put it where there was no danger of it being lost. It is in the safe, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN A NOVEMBER FOG _Frenchman_ (_just arrived on his first visit to London_). "Ha, ha! my frien', now I understan' vot you mean ven you say ze sun nevaire set in your dominion, ma foi! _It does not rise!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND" _Thirsty Soul_ (_after several gyrations round the letter-box_). "I sh'like t'know wha'-sh-'e good 'f gen'lem'n-sh turn'n tea-tot'ller 'f gov'm'nt (_hic_) goes-h an' cut-sh th' shpouts-h o' th' _bumpsh_ off!"] * * * * * THE LONDONER'S DIARY (_For August_) _Monday._--Got up at nine o'clock. Lounged to the park. No one there. Went to bed at twelve. _Tuesday._--Got up at ten o'clock. Walked to the House of Commons. Closed. Went to bed at eleven. _Wednesday._--Got up at eleven o'clock. Looked in at Prince's. Deserted. Went to bed at ten. _Thursday._--Got up at twelve o'clock. Strolled to the club. Shut up for repairs. Went to bed at nine. _Friday._--Got up at one o'clock. Stayed at home. Dull. Went to bed at eight. _Saturday._--Got up at five a.m. Went out of town at six. * * * * * THE REVERSE OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.--A school in which very few members of society are brought up--a charity school. * * * * * [Illustration: PAST RECLAIMING _Brixton Barber._ "Revival seems to be in the hair, sir." _Customer._ "Not in _mine_!"] * * * * * FOG Thou comest in familiar guise, When in the morning I awake, You irritate my throat and eyes, I vow that life's a sad mistake. You come to hang about my hair, My much-enduring lungs to clog, I feel you with me everywhere, Our own peculiar London fog. You clothe the City in such gloom, We scarce can see across the street, You seem to penetrate each room, And mix with everything I eat. I hardly dare to stir about, But sit supine as any log; You make it torture to go out, Our own peculiar London fog. * * * * * THE END OF TABLE-TURNING.--An inmate of a lunatic asylum, driven mad by spiritualism, wishes to try to turn the multiplication table. * * * * * "THE QUESTION OF THE HOUR."--What o'clock is it? * * * * * PERPETUAL MOTION DISCOVERED.--The _winding_ up of public companies. * * * * * FLIES IN AMBER.--Yellow cabs. * * * * * [Illustration: _'Bus Driver_ (_to Cabby, who is trying to lash his horse into something like a trot_). "Wot's the matter with 'im, Willum? 'E don't seem 'isself this mornin'. I believe you've bin an' changed 'is milk!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SKETCH FROM LIFE _Chorus_ (_slow music_). "We're a rare old--fair old--rickety, rackety crew!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_In a 'Bus._ TIME--_During the Hot Spell._ _First City Man._ "D----d hot, isn't---- I--I beg your pardon, madam, I--I quite forgot there was a lady pres----" _Stout Party._ "Don't apologise. It's much worse than that!"] * * * * * THE CAPITALISTS (_A Story of Yesterday for To-morrow and To-day_) "What, Brown, my boy, is that you?" said Smith, heartily. "The same, and delighted to see you," was the reply. "Have you heard the news, my dear fellow?" asked Smith. "You mean about the position of the Bank of England? Why, certainly; all the City is talking about it." "Ah, it is absolutely grand! Never was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street in such a strong position. Marvellous! my dear friend; absolutely marvellous!" "Quite so. Never were we--as a people--so rich!" "Yes, prosperity seems to be coming back by leaps and bounds." "You never said anything so true," observed Smith. "Right you are," cried Brown. And then the two friends shook hands once more with increased cordiality, and passed on. They walked in different directions a few steps, and both stopped. They turned round. "Smith," said Brown, "I have to ask you a trifling favour." "Brown, it is granted before I know its purport." "Well, the truth is, I am penniless--lend me half-a-crown." Smith paused for a moment. "You surely do not wish to refuse me?" asked Brown in a tone of pained surprise. "I do not, Smith," replied his friend, with fervour. "Indeed, I do not!" "Then produce the two-and-sixpence." "I would, my dear fellow, if in the wide world I could raise it!" And then the ancient comrades shook hands once again, and parted in sorrow, but not in anger. They felt that after all they were only in the fashion. * * * * * [Illustration: A NEGLECTED INDUSTRY "'Ow are yer gettin' on, Bill?" "Ain't gettin' on at all. I'm beginnin' to think as the publick doesn't know what they wants!"] * * * * * TOO COMMON A THING.--A member of a limited liability company in a bad way, said he should turn itinerant preacher. He was asked why? He said he had had a call. * * * * * [Illustration: _Country Cousin._ "Do you stop at the Cecil?" _'Bus Driver._ "_Do_ I stop at the Cecil!--_on twenty-eight bob a week_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FRIGHTFUL LEVITY.--_Bus-Driver._ "Hullo, gov'nour; got any room?" _Policeman, Driving Van_ (_with great want of self-respect_). "Just room for one; saved a place a purpose for you, sir." _Bus-Driver._ "What's yer fare?" _Policeman._ "Bread and water; same as you had afore!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A MISUNDERSTANDING.--_Old Gent._ (_evidently from the Shires_). "Hi! hoy! stop!" _Conductor._ "'Old 'ard Bill!" (_To Old Gent._) "Where are yer for, sir?" _Old Gent._ (_panting in pursuit_). "Here!--let's have a--box o' them--_safety matches_!" [_Objurgations!_ ] * * * * * ON THE SPECULATIVE BUILDER He's the readiest customer living, While you're lending, or spending or giving; But when you'd make profit, or get back your own, He's the awkwardest customer ever you've known. * * * * * FAVOURITE SONG ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE.--"_Oh! what a difference in the morning!_" * * * * * THE REAL "BITTER" CRY OF LONDON.--The demand for Bass and Allsopp. * * * * * CABBY calls the new auto-cars his motormentors. * * * * * [Illustration: THOROUGH!--_Hairdresser_ (_to perspiring Customer during the late hot weather_). "'Hair cut, sir?" _Stout Party_ (_falling into the chair, exhausted_). "Ye----" _Hairdresser._ "Much off, sir?" _Stout Party._ "(_Phew!_) Cut it to the bone!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DIVERTING THE TRAFFIC!] THE THING TO THROW LIGHT ON SPIRITUALISTIC S�ANCES.--A spirit-lamp. * * * * * THE RULING PASSION.--A great financial reformer is so devoted to figures that when he has nothing else to do he casts up his eyes. * * * * * BUBBLE CONCERNS.--Aërated water companies. * * * * * NEW LONDON STREET DIRECTORY _Adam Street._--Antediluvian anecdotes and traditions still linger here. _Air Street._--Doctors send their patients to this locality for change. _Aldermanbury._--Visited by numbers of bereaved relatives. _Amwell Street._--Always healthy. _Barking Alley._--To be avoided in the dog days. _Boy Court._--Not far from Child's Place. _Camomile Street._--See Wormwood Street. _Coldbath Square._--Very bracing. _Distaff Lane._--Full of spinsters. _Farm Street._--Highly sensitive to the fluctuations of the corn market. _Fashion Street._--Magnificent sight in the height of the season. _First Street._--Of immense antiquity. _Friday Street._--Great jealousy felt by all the other days of the week. _Garlick Hill._--Make a little _détour_. _Glasshouse Street._--Heavily insured against hailstorms. _Godliman Street._--Irreproachable. _Great Smith Street._--Which of the Smiths is this? _Grundy Street._--Named after that famous historic character--Mrs. Grundy. _Hercules Buildings._--Rich in traditions and stories of the "Labours" of the Founder. _Homer Street._--Literally classic ground. The house pointed out in connection with "the blind old bard" has long since disappeared. _Idol Lane._--Where are the Missionaries? _Ivy Lane._--This, and Lillypot Lane, and Woodpecker Lane, and Wheatsheaf Yard, and White Thorn Street, all sweetly rural. It is difficult to make a selection. _Lamb's Conduit Street._--Touching description (by the oldest inhabitant) of the young lambs coming to drink at the conduit. _Liquorpond Street._--See Philpot Lane. _Love Lane._--What sort of love? The "love of the turtle?" _Lupus Street._ } } Both dangerous. _Maddox Street._} _Milk Street._--Notice the number of pumps. _Mincing Lane._--Mincing is now mostly done elsewhere, by machinery. _Orchard Street._--The last apple was gathered here about the time that the last coursing match took place in Hare Court. _Paper Buildings._--Wonderfully substantial! Brief paper extensively used in these buildings. _Paradise Street._ } } Difficult to choose between the two. _Peerless Street._ } _Poultry._ } } Crowded at Christmas. _Pudding Lane._ } _Quality Court._--Most aristocratic. _Riches Court._--Not a house to be had for love or money. _Shepherdess Walk._--Ought to be near Shepherds' Bush. _Trump Street._--Noted for whist. _Type Street._--Leaves a most favourable impression. _World's End Passage._--Finis. * * * * * [Illustration: A QUALIFIED GUIDE.--_Befogged Pedestrian._ "Could you direct me to the river, please?" _Hatless and Dripping Stranger._ "Straight ahead. I've just come from it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FASHIONABLE AND SEASONABLE. Where to sup _al fresco_ in the hottest weather. The "_Whelkome_ Club"] * * * * * "THE ROUND OF THE RESTAURANTS."--Beef. * * * * * [Illustration: SACRIFICE.--_Good Templar._ "Tut--t--t--really, Swizzle, it's disgraceful to see a man in your position in this state, after the expense we've incurred and the exertions we've used to put down the liquor traffic!" _Swizzle._ "Y' may preash as mush as y' like, gen'l'm'n, bur I can tell y' I've made more persh'nal efforsh to (_hic_) purrown liquor than any of ye!"] * * * * * A LONDON FOG A fog in London daytime like the night is, Our fellow-creatures seem like wandering ghosts, The dull mephitic cloud will bring bronchitis; You cannon into cabs or fall o'er posts. The air is full of pestilential vapours, Innumerable "blacks" come with the smoke; The thief and rough cut unmolested capers, In truth a London fog's no sort of joke. You rise by candle-light or gaslight, swearing There never was a climate made like ours; If rashly you go out to take an airing, The soot-flakes come in black plutonian show'rs. Your carriage wildly runs into another, No matter though you go at walking pace; You meet your dearest friend, or else your brother And never know him, although face to face. The hours run on, and night and day commingle, Unutterable filth is in the air; You're much depressed, e'en in the fire-side ingle, The hag dyspepsia seems everywhere. Your wild disgust in vain you try to bridle, Mad as March hare or hydrophobic dog, You feel, in fact, intensely suicidal: Such things befall us in a London fog! * * * * * THE MOST LOYAL OF CUP-BEARERS.--A blind man's dog. * * * * * [Illustration: NOT QUITE WHAT HE MEANT. _Joan_ (_on her annual Spring visit to London_). "There, John, I think that would suit me." _Darby_ (_grumblingly_). "_That_, Maria? Why, a pretty figure it would come to!" _Joan._ "Ah, John dear, you're always so complimentary! I'll go and ask the price."] * * * * * STARTING A SYNDICATE A Serio-Comic Interlude SCENE--_An Office in the City._ TIME--_After Lunch._ PRESENT--_Members of a proposed Syndicate._ _First Member._ And now, gentlemen, to business. I suppose we may put down the capital at fifty thousand? _Second Mem._ Better make it five hundred thousand. Half a million is so much easier to get. _Third Mem._ Of course. Who would look at a paltry fifty? _First Mem._ Perhaps you are right. Five pound shares, eh? _Fourth Mem._ Better make them sovereigns. Simpler to manipulate. _First Mem._ I daresay. Then the same solicitors as our last? _Fifth Mem._ Yes, on the condition that they get a firm to undertake the underwriting. _First Mem._ Necessarily. The firm I propose, gentlemen, are men of business, and quite recognise that nothing purchases nothing. _Second Mem._ And they could get the secretary with a thousand to invest. _First Mem._ Certainly. Our brokers, bankers, and auditors as before. Eh, gentlemen? _Fifth Mem._ On the same conditions. _First Mem._ That is understood. And now the prospectus is getting into shape. Is there anything else anyone can suggest? _Fourth Mem._ Oughtn't we to have some object in view? _First Mem._ Assuredly. Making money. _Fourth Mem._ Don't be frivolous. But what I mean is, should we not know for what purpose we are going to expend the half million? _First Mem._ Oh, you mean the name. Well, that comparatively unimportant detail we might safely leave until our next pleasant gathering. [_Meeting adjourned._ _Curtain._ * * * * * IN EXTREMIS.--That man is indeed hard up who cannot get credit even for good intentions. * * * * * "WALKER!"--How unfair to sneer at the City tradesmen for being above their business, when so few of them live over their shops! * * * * * [Illustration: An early morning snapshot in the suburbs. Mr. Bumpus dresses his window.] * * * * * [Illustration: METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS Proposed elevated roadway for perambulators] * * * * * EXAMINATION FOR A DIRECTORSHIP (_From "The City Man's Vade Mecum"_) _Promoter._ Are you a gentleman of blameless reputation? _Candidate._ Certainly, and I share that reputation with a dozen generations of ancestors. _Promoter._ And no doubt you are the soul of honour? _Candidate._ That is my belief--a belief shared by all my friends and acquaintances. _Promoter._ And I think, before taking up finance, you have devoted a long life to the service of your country? _Candidate._ That is so. My career has been rewarded by all kinds of honours. _Promoter._ And there is no particular reason why you should dabble in Stock Exchange matters? _Candidate._ None that I know of--save, perhaps, to serve a friend. _Promoter._ Now, be very careful. Do you know anything whatever about the business it is proposed you should superintend? _Candidate._ Nothing whatever. I know nothing absolutely about business. _Promoter._ Then I have much pleasure in informing you that you have been unanimously elected a member of the board of management! [_Scene closes in until the public demands further information._ * * * * * [Illustration: "_Perfeck Lidy_" (_who has just been ejected_). "Well, _next_ time I goes into a publickouse, I'll go somewhere where I'll be _respected_!"] * * * * * RIDDLE FOR THE CITY Oh! why, my friend, is a joint stock Concern like, yet unlike, a clock? Because it may be wound up; when, Alas! it doesn't go again. * * * * * THE SEAT OF IMPUDENCE.--A cabman's box. * * * * * SONG OF SUBURBAN HOUSEHOLDERS AWAITING THE ADVENT OF THE DUSTMAN.--"We _always_ use a big, big D!" * * * * * A FLOATING CAPITAL JOKE.--When may a man be said to be literally immersed in business?--When he's giving a swimming lesson. * * * * * A CHEERFUL INVESTMENT.--A laughing-stock. * * * * * [Illustration: _Baker._ "I shall want another ha'penny. Bread's gone up to-day." _Boy._ "Then give us one of yesterday's."] * * * * * WHY I AM IN TOWN Because I have long felt a strong desire to know by personal experiment what London is like at this season of the year. Because the house requires some repairs, and I am anxious to be on the spot to look after the workpeople. Because the progress of my book on Universal Eccentricity renders it necessary that I should pay frequent visits to the library of the British Museum. Because I have been everywhere, and know every place. Because the sanitary condition of the only place I at all care to go to is not altogether satisfactory. Because my Uncle Anthony is expected home every day from Australia, and I am unwilling to be absent from town when he arrives. Because my cousin Selina is going to be married from her stepfather's at Upper Clapton, and insists on my giving her away to the gentleman with whom she is about to penetrate into the interior of Africa. Because I am desirous to avail myself of this opportunity of completing some statistical tables I am compiling, showing the comparative numbers of horses, carriages, and pedestrians passing my dining-room windows on the last Saturday in May and the last Saturday in August respectively. Because my eldest son is reading with a private tutor for his army examination, and I feel I am of some use to him in his studies. Because my Aunt Philippa is detained in town by an attack of gout, and expects me to call and sit with her three times a day. Because I am determined to put into execution my long-cherished design of thoroughly exploring the British Museum, the National Gallery, the South Kensington Museum, St. Paul's, Westminster Abbey, the public monuments, and the City churches. Because it is pecuniarily inconvenient to me to be anywhere else. * * * * * NOTICE.--The gentleman who, the other day, ran away from home, without stopping to take his breath, is requested to fetch it as quickly as possible. * * * * * [Illustration: FOGGED.--_Cabman_ (_who thinks he has been passing a line of linkmen_). "Is this right for Paddington?" _Linkman._ "'Course it is! First to the right and straight on. 'Aven't I told ye that three times already? Why, you've been drivin' round this square for the last 'arf hour!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VIRTUOUS INDIGNATION.--_Betting Man_ (_to his Partner_). "Look 'ere, Joe! I 'ear you've been gamblin' on the Stock Exchange! Now, a man _must_ draw the line _somewhere_; and if that kind of thing goes on, you and me will 'ave to part company!"] * * * * * MISNOMERS You start a company to make it go, It fails, and so you drop it; It didn't go but yet has gone, and so You wind it up to stop it. Stocks in your garden you will surely find By want of rain are slaughtered; Yet many stocks have languished and declined Because they have been watered. Suppose a company for brewing beer Should come to a cessation-- That is--"dry up" 'tis curious to hear It's called "in liquidation." * * * * * PREHISTORIC LONDON.--Some archæologists have discovered an analogy between the druidical worship and a form of semitic idolatry. It has been surmised that the Old Bailey derives its name from having been the site of a temple of Baal. * * * * * THE RULE OF ROME.--An "Inquiring City Clerk," fresh from his Roman history, writes to ask if "S.P.Q.R." stands for "Small profits, quick returns." * * * * * A TEMPERANCE PUBLIC-HOUSE.--A slop-shop. * * * * * [Illustration: MELTING MOMENTS (_Temperature 95° in the Shade._) _Friend._ "How does this weather suit you, old chap?" _Bankrupt Proprietor._ "Oh, down to the ground! You see, I'm in liquidation!"] * * * * * THE ORIGINAL COOK'S TOURIST.--Policeman X on his beat. * * * * * "THE GREAT PLAGUE OF LONDON."--A barrel-organ. * * * * * THE LATEST THING OUT.--The night-light. * * * * * [Illustration: _Johnny_ (_who has to face a bad Monday, to Manager at Messrs. R-thsch-ld's_). "Ah! I--want to--ah!--see you about an overdraft." _Manager._ "How much do you require?" _Johnny._ "Ah!--how much have you got?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _French Lady._ "Picca-di-lee Circus." _Obliging Conductor._ "All right. One pence." _French Lady_ (_who rather prides herself on her English pronunciation_). "I anterstond ze Engleeshe langue." _Obliging Conductor._ "Oh, all right. Keep yer 'air on!"] * * * * * THE MOST UNPLEASANT MEETING.--Having to meet a bill. * * * * * WHAT intimate connection is there between the lungs of London and the lights of the metropolis? * * * * * SAW FOR SLOP TAILORS.--Ill tweeds shrink apace. * * * * * A TISSUE OF LIES.--A forged bank-note. * * * * * A NICE INVESTMENT.--Amongst the advertisements of new undertakings we notice one of "The Universal Disinfector Company." Our broker has instructions to procure us some shares, if they are in good odour. * * * * * A TIGHT FIT.--Intoxication. * * * * * HOW TO SUPPLY ST. PAUL'S WITH BELLS AND CHIMES _Cheap_.--Melt down the canons. * * * * * A THOUGHT FROM OUR TUB.--Respect everybody's feelings. If you wish to have your laundress's address, avoid asking her where she "hangs out." * * * * * HARD LINES.--Overhead wires. * * * * * HOTEL FOR BEE-FANCIERS.--The Hum-mums. * * * * * UNPRECEDENTED TRADE ANNOUNCEMENT.--The pig-market was quiet. * * * * * MONEY MARKET AND SANITARY INTELLIGENCE.--The unsafest of all deposits is the deposit of the banks of the Thames. * * * * * THE PLACE TO SPEND ALL FOOLS' DAY.--_Madame Tous-sots'._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Bus-driver._ "All right, ladies! You're quite safe. They're werry partikler wot they eats!"] * * * * * [Illustration: METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS The next sensational literary advertisement; or, things of beauty in our streets.] * * * * * SOLEMN JEST.--Where should postmen be buried? In a post-crypt. * * * * * A BLUNDER-BUS.--One that takes you to Holborn when you want to go to the Bank. * * * * * EPITAPH FOR A STOCKBROKER.--"Waiting for a rise." * * * * * BOARD WAGES.--Directors' fees. * * * * * [Illustration: STOCK EXCHANGE _Illustrated by Dumb-Crambo, Junior_] [Illustration: Carrying over] [Illustration: Market firm] [Illustration: Arranging for a fall] [Illustration: Market falling] [Illustration: Preparing for a rise] [Illustration: Home securities flat] * * * * * A NEW WAY TO GET A FRESH APPETITE (_A real bit from life at a City company's dinner_) _Young Visitor._ Really, sir, you must excuse me. I am compelled to refuse. _Old Alderman_ (_with profound astonishment_). What, refuse these beautiful grouse? It's impossible! _Young Visitor._ It _is_ impossible, I can assure you, sir. I cannot eat any more. _Old Alderman_ (_tenderly_). Come, come. I tell you what now. Just take my advice, and _try a cold chair_. * * * * * DESIGN FOR A PAPER-WEIGHT.--The portrait of a gentleman waiting for the _Times_. * * * * * THE BEST "FINANCIAL RELATIONS."--Our "uncles." * * * * * AT THE ANGEL COURT KITCHEN.--_Stranger_ (_to Eminent Financier_). Why did you call that man at the bar "the Microbe"? _Eminent Financier._ Because he's "in everything." * * * * * GROUND RENTS.--The effects of an earthquake. * * * * * [Illustration: FOLLOWING THE FASHION.--_Baked-Tater Merchant._ "'Ow's trade! Why fust-rate!! I'm a-goin' to conwert the bis'ness into a limited liability comp'ny--and retire into private life!!!"] * * * * * SONGS OF THE STREETS UPON THE KERB Upon the kerb a maiden neat-- Her watchet eyes are passing sweet-- There stands and waits in dire distress: The muddy road is pitiless, And 'buses thunder down the street! A snowy skirt, all frill and pleat; Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet Peep out, beneath her kilted dress, Upon the kerb! She'll first advance and then retreat, Half frightened by a hansom fleet. She looks around, I must confess, With marvellous coquettishness!-- Then droops her eyes and looks discreet, Upon the kerb! * * * * * Definition of "THE HAPPY MEAN."--A joyful miser. * * * * * TO PEOPLE DOWN IN THE WORLD.--Try the new hotels: they will give you a lift. * * * * * WHAT is the best thing to do in a hurry? Nothing. * * * * * [Illustration: _Sarah_ (_to Sal_). "Lor! ain't 'e 'andy with 'is feet!"] * * * * * PUNCH'S COUNTRY COUSIN'S GUIDE THE METROPOLIS IN THE _MORTE SAISON_ 8 A.M.--Rise, as in the country, and stroll round the squares before breakfast, to see the turn out of cooks and charwomen. Ask your way back of the first policeman you meet. 9 A.M.--Breakfast. First taste of London milk and butter. Analyse, if not in a hurry. Any policeman will show you the nearest chemist. 10 A.M.--To Battersea Park to see carpets beaten. Curious atmospheric effects observable in the clouds of dust and the language of the beaters. Inquire your road of any policeman. 11 A.M.--Take penny steamer up to Westminster Bridge, in time to arrive at Scotland Yard, and inspect the police as they start on their various beats. For any information, inquire of the inspector. 12 P.M.--Hansom cab races. These can be viewed at any hour by standing still at a hundred yards from any cabstand and holding up a shilling. An amusing sequel may be enjoyed by referring all the drivers to the nearest policeman. 1 P.M.--Observe the beauties of solitude among the flowers in Hyde Park. Lunch at the lodge on curds and whey. Ask the whey of the park keeper. 2 P.M.--Visit the exhibitions of painting on the various scaffoldings in Belgravia. Ask the next policeman if the house painters are Royal Academicians. Note what he says. 3 P.M.--Look at the shops in Bond Street and Regent Street, and purchase the dummy goods disposed of at an awful sacrifice. 4 P.M.--See the stickleback fed at the Westminster Aquarium. If nervous at being alone, ask the policeman in waiting to accompany you over the building. 5 P.M.--Find a friend still in town to give you five o'clock tea in her back drawing-room--the front of the house being shut up. 6 P.M.--Back to the park. Imagine the imposing cavalcades in Rotten Row (now invisible), with the aid of one exercising groom and the two daughters of a riding-master in full procession. 7 P.M.--Wake up the waiters at the Triclinium Restaurant, and persuade them to warm up dinner for your benefit. 8 P.M.--Perambulate the Strand, and visit the closed doors of the various theatres. Ask the nearest policeman for his opinion on London actors. You will find it as good as a play. 9 P.M.--A Turkish bath may be had in Covent Garden Theatre. Towels or programmes are supplied by the policemen at the doors. 10 P.M.--Converse, before turning in, with the policeman on duty or the fireman in charge of the fire-escape. Much interesting information may be obtained in this way. 11 P.M.--Supper at the cabmen's shelter, or the coffee stall corner of Hyde Park. Get a policeman to take you home to bed. * * * * * [Illustration: _Benevolent Old Gentleman._ "_Poor_ little thing! Is it hurt?" [_But it was only the week's washing._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: AMENITIES OF THE ROAD.--_Robert._ "Now then, four-wheeler, why couldn't you pull up sooner? Didn't you see me 'old up my 'and?" _Cabby_ (_suavely_). "Well, constable, I _did_ see a kind of shadder pass acrorst the sky; but my 'orse 'e shied at your feet!"] * * * * * _Q._ WHAT is the best sort of cigar to smoke in a hansom? _A._ A Cab-ana. * * * * * THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE.--It must have belonged originally to an omnibus, for it is continually "taking up" and "putting down" people. * * * * * [Illustration: _Groom_ (_whose master is fully occupied with unmanageable pair which has just run into rear of omnibus_). "Well, anyway, it wasn't the guv'nor's fault." '_Bus Conductor._ "No--it was _your_ fault, for letting 'im drive!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE WAY WE BUILD NOW."--_Indignant Houseowner_ (_he had heard it was so much cheaper, in the end, to buy your house_). "Wh' what's the--what am I!--wha' what do you suppose is the meaning of this, Mr. Scampling!" _Local Builder._ "'T' tut, tut! Well, sir, I 'spects some one's been a-leanin' agin it!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GETTING HIS ANSWER _Important Old Gent_ (_from the country, who thinks the lofty bearing of these London barmaids ought to be "taken down a bit"_). "Glass of ale, young woman; and look sharp, please!" _Haughty Blonde_ (_blandly_). "Second-class refreshments lower down, sir!!"] * * * * * THE MEAT MARKET Legs were freely walked off, and there was a pressure on ribs owing to the rush of beggars; but knuckles came down, while calves'-heads were looking-up steadily. At Smithfield, there was a rush of bulls, but the transactions were of such a hazardous nature as to appear more like a toss-up than firm business. Any kind of security was resorted to, and the bulls having driven a well-known speculator into a corner, he was glad to get out as he could, though an attempt was made to pin him to his position. Pigs went on much at the old rates; and briskness could not be obtained, though the _coupons_ were freely offered. The weather having been favourable to slaughtering, calves have not been brought to the pen--but there is something doing in beef, for the "_Last of the Barons_" is advertised. * * * * * THE ORIGINAL CAB RADIUS.--A spoke of Phoebus's chariot-wheel. * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE L.G.O.C.--_Bus_ in urbe. * * * * * [Illustration: A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY _Old Gentleman (returning from City festivity)._ "Pleashm'n, where'sh M'sht'r Brown live?" _Constable (recognising him)._ "Why, dear me, sir, you are Mr. Brown!" _Mr. B._ "Aw right! Bu'--where do I live?"!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Cheap Jack._ "I will make a present of this genooine gold watch--none of your carrots--to henny lady or gentleman for fifteen shillings an' sixpence. Why am I doin' this? To hencourage trade, that is why I am givin' it away for fourteen shillings an' sixpence. Look at it for yourselves, for fourteen shillings! If yer don't believe it's gold, _jump on it_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE DIAMOND JUBILEE.--_First Doubtful Character._ "My eye, mate, this is a squash!" _Second D. C._ "Squash! Why, s'elp me, if I ain't 'ad my 'and in this cove's pocket for the larst twenty minits, an' can't get it out!"] * * * * * BACK TO TOWN Back to town, and it certes is rapture to stand, And to hear once again all the roar of the Strand; I agree with the bard who said, noisy or stilly, By gaslight or daylight, he loved Piccadilly; The wanderer's heart with emotion doth swell, When he sees the broad pavement of pleasant Pall Mall. Some folks like the City; wherever they range, Their hearts are still true to the Royal Exchange; They've beheld alpine summits rise rank upon rank, But the Matterhorn's nothing compared with the Bank; And they feel quite rejoiced in the omnibus ride, As that hearse for the living rolls up through Cheapside. The mind of a man is expanded by travel, But give me my house on the Kensington gravel: The wine of the Frenchman is good, and his grub, But he isn't devoted to soap and the tub; Though it may be my prejudice, yet I'll be shot, If I don't think one Englishman's worth all the lot! With Germans I've no disposition to quarrel, Though most of their women resemble a barrel; And, as for myself, I could never make out The charms of their _schnitzel_ and raw _sauer-kraut_; While everyone owns, since the last mighty war, Your average Teuton's too bumptious by far. I think it's been stated before, that you roam To prove to yourself that there's no place like home, Though lands that are lovely lie eastward and west, Our "tight little island," believe me, 's the best; Through Paris, Berlin, and Vienna you've passed, To find that there's nothing like London at last! * * * * * [Illustration: _New Assistant (after hair-cutting, to Jones, who has been away for a couple of weeks)._ "Your 'air is very thin be'ind, sir. Try singeing!" _Jones (after a pause)._ "Yes, I think I will." _N. A. (after singeing)._ "Shampoo, sir? Good for the 'air, sir." _Jones._ "Thank you. Yes." _N. A._ "Your moustaches curled?" _Jones._ "Please." _N. A._ "May I give you a friction?" _Jones._ "Thank you." _N. A._ "Will you try some of our----" _Manager (who has just sighted his man, in stage whisper)._ "You idiot! _He's_ a subscriber!!"] * * * * * MRS. R. was in an omnibus lately. The streets were so badly paved, she says, that the osculations were most trying to elderly people, though the younger ladies did not seem to object to them. * * * * * MORE COMMERCIAL CANDOUR.--"Suits from 35s. to order. Beware of firms that copy us." * * * * * SIGNS OF A SEVERE WINTER IN LONDON.--Early departure of swallows from Swallow Street. Poet's Corner covered with rime. Wild ducks on the Stock Exchange. Coals raised. * * * * * CYNIC'S MOTTO FOR KELLY'S DIRECTORY (_by the kind permission of the Author of "Dead Men whom I have known."_)--Living men whom I don't want to know. * * * * * MONEY MARKET--Shares, in Ascension Island Company, going up. * * * * * CITY INTELLIGENCE.--Should the proposed asylum for decayed bill brokers, jobbers, and others on 'Change be ultimately built, it will probably be at Stock-holm. * * * * * [Illustration: CONVENIENT.--_Lodger (who has been dining)._ "D' you have any 'bjecks'n t' my 'shcaping up into my rooms shec'nd floor? F'got my la'ch-key!!"] * * * * * ADVICE TO SMOKERS.--Cut Cavendish. * * * * * FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.--A new club, composed entirely of aristocratic literary ladies, is in course of formation; it is to be called "The Blue Lights." * * * * * NURSERY RHYME FOR THE TIME Bye baby bunting, Daddy's gone a hunting On the Stock Exchange, to catch Some one who is not his match; If he has luck, As well as pluck, A coach he'll very likely win To ride his baby bunting in. * * * * * THE DEAF MAN'S PARADISE.--The Audit Office. * * * * * [Illustration: "CASTING ACCOUNTS"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR FRENCH VISITORS.--(Scene--_Royal Exchange_). _First Frenchman (his first time in London)._ "Tiens, Alphonse! Qui est cet homme-là?" _Second Frenchman (who, having been here once before is supposed to know all about it)._ "Chut! Plus bas, mon ami." (_Whispers in reverential tone._) "Ce monsieur-là--c'est le Lor' Maire!"] * * * * * A VERY MUCH OVER-RATED PLACE.--London, under the County Council. * * * * * A BILL ACCEPTOR.--A dead wall. * * * * * SITE FOR A RAGGED SCHOOL.--Tattersall's. * * * * * LINKS THAT ARE NO SORT OF USE IN ANY FOG.--Shirt-links. * * * * * THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND BEAUTIFYING TREE IN LONDON.--The plane. * * * * * "COIGNS OF 'VANTAGE."--_£_ _s_. _d_. * * * * * [Illustration: BULL AND BEAR] * * * * * THE "BREAD OF IDLENESS."--Loafing. * * * * * POEM ON A PUBLIC-HOUSE Of this establishment how can we speak? Its cheese is mitey and its ale is weak. * * * * * THE ARISTOCRAT'S PARADISE.--Quality Court. * * * * * "THE CONTROLLER OF THE _MINT_."--The greengrocer. * * * * * SEASONABLE.--What sort of a bath would a resident of Cornhill probably prefer? A _Cit's_ bath. * * * * * THE TIPPLER'S PARADISE.--Portsoken Ward. * * * * * MONEY MARKET [Illustration: Tightness observable at the opening] [Illustration: A decline at the close] [Illustration: Railways were dull] [Illustration: Bullyin' movements] * * * * * THE STOCKBROKER'S VADE MECUM.--A book of good quotations. * * * * * EPITAPH ON A LETTER CARRIER.--_Post obit._ * * * * * A MAN IN ADVANCE OF HIS TIME.--One who has been knocked into the middle of next week. * * * * * THE LORD MAYOR'S RESIDENCE.--The munching house. * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW TERROR FOR THE UNPUNCTUAL CLERK [According to the _Scientific American_ they have commenced making in Switzerland phonographic clocks and watches, which pronounce the hour most distinctly.] ] * * * * * THE BEST SCHOOL OF COOKERY.--The office of a City accountant. * * * * * [Illustration: THE OBSTINACY OF THE PARENT _Emily Jane._ "Yes, I'm always a-sayin' to father as 'e oughter retire from the crossin', but keep at it 'e will, though it ain't just no more 'n the broom as 'olds 'im up!"] * * * * * THE MONEY MARKET The scarcity of money is frightful. As much as a hundred per cent., to be paid in advance, has been asked upon bills; but we have not yet heard of any one having given it. There was an immense run for gold, but no one got any, and the whole of the transactions of the day were done in copper. An influential party created some sensation by coming into the market late in the afternoon, just before the close of business, with half-a-crown; but it was found, on inquiry, to be a bad one. It is expected that if the dearth of money continues another week, buttons must be resorted to. A party, whose transactions are known to be large, succeeded in settling his account with the bulls, by means of postage-stamps; an arrangement of which the bears will probably take advantage. A large capitalist in the course of the day attempted to change the direction things had taken, by throwing an immense quantity of paper into the market; but as no one seemed disposed to have anything to do with it, it blew over. The parties to the Dutch loan are much irritated at being asked to take their dividends in butter; but, after the insane attempt to get rid of the Spanish arrears by cigars, which, it is well known, ended in smoke, we do not think the Dutch project will be proceeded with. * * * * * "LETTERS OF CREDIT."--I.O.U. * * * * * CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.--Stopping in London in August. * * * * * RESIDENCE FOR THE CLERK OF THE WEATHER.--"The clearing-house." * * * * * [Illustration: A MAN OF LETTERS] [Illustration: MOST ASSURING.--_Brown (who is nervous about sanitary matters, and detects something)._ "Hum"--(_sniffs_)--"surely--this system of yours--these pipes now--do they communicate with your main drain?" _Hairdresser (with cheery gusto)._ "Direct, sir!" [_Tableau._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gilded Johnny._ "How long will it take your bally cab to get to Victoria?" _Cabby._ "Oh, just about the same time as an ordinary keb, sir."] * * * * * [Illustration: "NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND" _Respectable Man._ "Dear me! I'm sorry to see this, Muggles! I heard you'd left off drinking!" _Disreputable Party._ "Sho I 'ave, shir--(_hic_)--jesh 'ish very minute!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OBVIOUS.--_Stingy Uncle (to impecunious Nephew)._ "Pay as you go, my boy!--Pay as you go!" _Nephew (suggestively)._ "But suppose I haven't any money to pay with, uncle----" _Uncle._ "Eh?--Well, then, don't go, you know--don't go!" [_Exit hastily_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Street Serio (singing)._ "Er--yew will think hov me and love me has in dies hov long ago-o-o!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHEWERFIT & C^o. ARTISTS IN HAIR FACE MASSAGE MANICURE CHIROPODY BLOOM OF CUPID FOR THE COMPLEXION ] * * * * * [Illustration: REAL GRATITUDE _Tramp (to Chappie, who has just given him a shilling)._ "I 'ope as 'ow some day, sir, _you_ may want a shillin', an' that I'll be able to give it to yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Vendor of Cheap Music._ "'Ere y' are, lidy! _'I'll be yer Sweet'art.'_ One penny!"] * * * * * CORRESPONDENCE If you please, sir, as a young visitor to the metropolis, and well acquainted with history, I want to ask you-- Who is the Constable of the Tower? What is his number? Is he dressed like other constables? Can he run anyone in, and make them move on if found loitering on his beat? Is his beat all round the Tower? Is he a special? one of the _force de tour_, empowered to use a _tour de force_? (You see I am well up in French.) I saw a very amiable-looking policeman cracking nuts in the vicinity of the Tower. Do you think this was the constable in question? Yours, RUSTY CUSS IN URBE. P.S.--Pantheon means a place where all the gods are. I know Greek. The Pantheon in Regent Street I find is now a wine merchant's. Is England exclusively devoted to Bacchus, and is temperance a heresy? * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE NINTH. _Freddy._ "And do they have a new Lord Mayor every year, mummie?" _Mother._ "Yes, dear." _Freddy._ "Then what do they do with the old Lord Mayors when they've done with 'em?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Clerk._ "Lady been here this morning, sir, complaining about some goods we sent her." _Employer._ "Who was she?" _Clerk._ "I quite forgot to ask her name, sir, but she's a little woman--_with a full-sized tongue_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Boldwig_ (_he had been dining with his Company, and had let himself in with his latchkey--to gigantic stranger he finds in his hall_). "Come on. I'll fight you!" (_Furiously._) "Put your shtick down!!" [_But his imaginary foe was only the new umbrella-stand_--_a present from Mrs. B.!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: MAKING THE MOST OF IT] A SHOCKING THING TO THINK OF!--A galvanic battery. * * * * * "CASH ADVANCES."--Courting a rich widow. * * * * * MOTTO FOR HAIRDRESSERS.--"Cut and comb again." * * * * * CORRECT MOTTO FOR THE EASY SHAVER.--Nothing like lather. * * * * * [Illustration: ADVERTISEMENT INADVERTENCIES _Perpetrated by Dumb-Crambo, Junior_] [Illustration: "Suitable opening for a pupil"] [Illustration: "Pushing man to take orders"] [Illustration: "No reasonable offer refused"] [Illustration: "Mother's help wanted"] [Illustration: "A good plate cleaner"] [Illustration: "Goods carefully removed (in town or country)"] * * * * * THE BEST POSSESSION.--Self-possession. * * * * * TWO SYNONYMOUS TRADES.--A hairdresser; a locksmith. * * * * * THE BEST SUBSTITUTE FOR COAL.--Warm weather. * * * * * [Illustration: PASSING AMENITIES.--_Growler._ "Hi! Hi! Carn't yer look out wher' yer a-comin'?" _Omnibus._ "Garn! Shut up, jack-in-the-box!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I wonder when that A. B. C. girl is going to serve us? I've called her half-a-dozen times." "Perhaps she's D. E. F."] * * * * * TOWN IMPROVEMENT.--There is, we hear, a winter garden to be opened at Somer's Town. * * * * * THE DUMMY-MONDE.--Madame Tussaud's wax-work. * * * * * [Illustration: SO INVITING!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Passenger_ (_rising politely_). "Excuse me, mum, but do you believe in woman's rights?" _New Woman._ "Most certainly I do." _Passenger_ (_resuming seat_). "Oh well, then stand up for 'em!"] * * * * * DESPERATE RESOLVES OF THE LAST MAN LEFT IN TOWN To visit the National Gallery (for the first time), as an Englishman should really know something about the art treasures of his native country. To spend an hour at the Tower (also for the first time), because there you will be able to brighten up your historical recollections which have become rather rusty since you took your B.A. degree just fifteen years ago. To enter St. Paul's Cathedral with a view to thinking out a really good plan of decoration for the benefit of those who read letters addressed to the editor of the _Times_. To take a ride in an omnibus from Piccadilly to Brompton to see what the interior of the vehicle in question is like, and therein to study the manners and customs of the English middle classes. To walk in Rotten Row between the hours of twelve (noon) and two (p.m.) to see how the place looks without any people in it. To have your photograph taken in your militia uniform, as now there is no one in town to watch you getting out of a cab in full war paint. To stroll into Mudie's Library to get all the new novels, because after reading them you may suddenly find yourself inspired to write a critique that will make your name (when the article has been accepted and published) as a most accomplished reviewer. To read all the newspapers and magazines at the hairdresser's while your head is being shampooed (for the fourth time), as now is the time for improving your mind (occupied with so many other things during the season) with popular current literature. To walk to your club (closed for repairs, &c.) to see how the workmen are progressing with the stone scraping of the exterior, as you feel yourself responsible to hundreds of your fellow-creatures as a member of the house committee. To write a long letter to your friend Brown, of the 121st Foot, now in India with his regiment, to tell him how nothing is going on anywhere, because you have not written to him since he said "Good-bye" to you at Southampton. To go home to bed at nine o'clock, as early hours are good for the health, and because there is really nothing else to do. And last, but not least, to leave London for the country by the very first train to-morrow morning! * * * * * MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING IN THE CITY Sigh no more dealers, sigh no more, Shares were unstable ever, They often have been down before, At high rates constant never. Then sigh not so, Soon up they'll go, And you'll be blithe and funny, Converting all your notes of woe Into hey, money, money. Write no more letters, write no mo On stocks so dull and heavy. At times on 'Change 'tis always so, When bears a tribute levy. Then sigh not so, And don't be low, In sunshine you'll make honey, Converting all your notes of woe, Into hey, money, money. * * * * * "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."--London in September. * * * * * THE CLOCKMAKER'S PARADISE.--Seven Dials. * * * * * [Illustration: STUDIES IN EVOLUTION.--Alderman Brownjones senior explains to his son, Alderman Brownjones junior, that there is a lamentable falling-off since _his_ day, in the breed of aldermen-sheriffs--not only in style and bearing, but even in "happetite"!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Gent_ (_rushing out of club in a terrific hurry_). "I say, cabby, drive as fast as you can to Waterloo--Leatherhead!" _Cabby._ "'Ere, I say, not so much of your _leather'ed_, if you please!" [_Goes off grumbling._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Snobson_ (_who is doing a little slumming for the first time and wishes to appear affable, but is at a loss to know how to commence conversation_). "Town very empty!"] * * * * * NEW EDITION OF WALKER The baker rolls. The butcher shambles. The banker balances himself well. The cook has a mincing gait. The livery-stable keeper has a "_musing_ gait." The excursionist trips along. The fishmonger flounders on. The poulterer waddles like a duck. The gardener does not allow the grass to grow under his feet. The grocer treads gingerly. The indiarubber manufacturer has an elastic step. The rogue shuffles, and The doctor's pace is killing. * * * * * SHOPKEEPER'S SCIENCE.--Buyology. * * * * * PEOPLE talk about making a clean sweep. Can they make a sweep clean? * * * * * BENEATH ONE'S NOTICE.--Advertisements on the pavement. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR" (_With apologies to Mr. Kipling_)] * * * * * [Illustration: _Talkative Old Lady_ (_drinking a glass of milk, to enthusiastic teetotaler, who is doing ditto_). "Yes, sir, since they're begun poisoning the beer, we _must_ drink _something_, mustn't we?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Small Boy_ (_who is somewhat cramped for room_). "Are you still there, Billy? I thought you wos lost."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Old Gentleman._ "Here, I say, your beast of a dog has bitten a piece out of my leg!" _Dog's Owner._ "Oh, bother! And I wanted to bring him up a vegetarian!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "'Ad any breakfus' 's mornin'?" "Not a drop!"] * * * * * THE INFANT'S GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE CONCERNING CASH _Question._ What is cash? _Answer._ Cash may be described as comfort in the concrete. _Q._ Is it not sometimes called "the root of all evil"? _A._ Yes, by those who do not possess it. _Q._ Is it possible to live without cash? _A._ Certainly--upon credit. _Q._ Can you tell me what is credit? _A._ Credit is the motive power which induces persons who have cash, to part with some of it to those who have it not. _Q._ Can you give me an instance of credit? _A._ Certainly. A young man who is able to live at the rate of a thousand a-year, with an income not exceeding nothing a month, is a case of credit. _Q._ Would it be right to describe such a transaction as "much to his credit"? _A._ It would be more precise to say, "much by his credit"; although the former phrase would be accepted by a large class of the community as absolutely accurate. _Q._ What is bimetallism? _A._ Bimetallism is a subject that is frequently discussed by amateur financiers, after a good dinner, on the near approach of the coffee. _Q._ Can you give me your impression of the theory of bimetallism? _A._ My impression of bimetallism is the advisability of obtaining silver, if you cannot get gold. _Q._ What is the best way of securing gold? _A._ The safest way is to borrow it. _Q._ Can money be obtained in any other way? _A._ In the olden time it was gathered on Hounslow Heath and other deserted spots, by mounted horsemen wearing masks and carrying pistols. _Q._ What is the modern way of securing funds, on the same principles, but with smaller risk? _A._ By promoting companies and other expedients known to the members of the Stock Exchange. * * * * * A GOOD FIGURE-HEAD.--An arithmetician's. * * * * * [Illustration: AN EMPTY EMBRACE.--"'Ere y'are! Humberella rings, two a penny!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Conductor_ (_on "Elephant and Castle" route_). "Fares, please!" _Fare._ "Two elephants!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ONE OF "LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD OUTSIDE A FAMOUS RESTAURANT "Hullo, Gus! What are you waiting about here for?" "I'm waiting till the banks close. I want to cash a cheque!"] * * * * * "UNSATISFACTORY COMMERCIAL RELATIONS."--Our "uncles." * * * * * COUNTRY SHAREHOLDERS.--Ploughmen. * * * * * [Illustration: _Working Man, sitting on the steps of a big house in, say, Russell Square, smoking pipe. A mate passes by with plumbing tools, &c._ _Man with tools._ "Hullo, Jim! Wot are yer doin' 'ere? Caretakin'?" _Man on steps._ "No. I'm the howner, 'ere." _Man with tools._ "'Ow's that?" _Man on steps._ "Why, I did a bit o' plumbing in the 'ouse, an' I took the place in part payment for the job."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GLORIOUS FIFTH _Benevolent Lady_ (_fond of the good old customs_). "Here, my boy, is something for your guy." _Conscientious Youth._ "We ain't got no guy, mum; this 'ere's grandfather!"] * * * * * A "YOUNG SHAVER."--A barber's baby. * * * * * JOINT ACCOUNT.--A butcher's bill. * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER "THE SLUMP" IN THE CITY.--_Weak Speculator in South African market_ (_about to pay the barber who has been shaving him_). "A shilling! eh? Why, your charge used to be only sixpence." _City Barber._ "Yes, sir; _but you've got such a long face_, we're obliged to increase the price!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I don't arst yer fer money. I don't _want_ money. Wot I wants is bread. _'Ave_ yer got such a thing as a bit o' bread about yer, me lord?"] * * * * * THE PROMOTER'S VADE MECUM (_Subject to Revision after the Vacation_) _Question._ What is meant by the promotion of a company? _Answer._ The process of separating capital from its possessor. _Q._ How is this end accomplished? _A._ By the preparation and publication of a prospectus. _Q._ Of what does a prospectus consist? _A._ A front page and a statement of facts. _Q._ Define a front page. _A._ The bait covering the hook, the lane leading to the pitfall, the lath concealing the quagmire--occasionally. _Q._ Of what is a front page composed? _A._ Titles, and other suggestions of respectability. _Q._ How are these suggestions obtained? _A._ In the customary fashion. _Q._ Can a banking account be put to any particular service in the promotion of a company? _A._ Certainly; it eases the wheels in all directions. _Q._ Can it obtain the good-will of the Press? _A._ Only of questionable and usually short-lived periodicals. _Q._ But the destination of the cash scarcely affects the promoter? _A._ No; for he loses in any case. _Q._ How much of his profits does he sometimes have to disgorge? _A._ According to circumstances, from three-fifths to nineteen-twentieths of his easily-secured takings. _Q._ And what does promotion do for the promoter? _A._ It usually bestows upon him temporary prosperity. _Q._ Why do you say "temporary"? _A._ Because a pleasant present is frequently followed by a disastrous future. _Q._ You mean, then, that this prosperity is like the companies promoted, "limited"? _A._ Yes, by the Court of Bankruptcy. * * * * * [Illustration: "ON 'CHANGE" _Brown._ "Mornin'. Fresh mornin', ain't it?" _Smith._ "'Course it is. Every morning's a fresh morning! By-bye!" [_Brown's temper all day is quite unbearable._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sympathetic Passer-by._ "But if he's badly hurt, why doesn't he go to the hospital?" _British Workman._ "Wot! In 'is dinner-time!!"] * * * * * ADVERTISEMENT PERVERSIONS (_By Dumb-Crambo, Junior_) [Illustration: Washing wanted] [Illustration: Vacancy for one pupil] [Illustration: Improver wanted in the dressmaking] [Illustration: Left-off clothing] [Illustration: Branch establishment] [Illustration: Engagement wanted, as housekeeper. Highly recommended] [Illustration: Board and residence] [Illustration: Unfurnished flat] [Illustration: Smart youth wanted] [Illustration: Mangling done on the shortest notice] * * * * * RIVER STYX.--"The thousand masts of Thames." * * * * * THE MAN WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEND TO A S�ANCE.--The man who knows how to hit the happy medium. * * * * * APPROPRIATE _LOCALE_ FOR THE DAIRY SHOW.--Chalk Farm. * * * * * A TIDY DROP.--A glass of spirits, _neat_. * * * * * [Illustration: LORD MAYOR'S SHOW AS IT OUGHT TO BE _Designed by Mr. Punch's Special Processionist_] * * * * * [Illustration: ANOTHER SUGGESTION FOR THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW AS IT OUGHT TO BE] * * * * * [Illustration: "'Nuts for the monkeys, sir? Buy a bag o' nuts for the monkeys!" "I'm not going to the Zoo." "Ah, well, sir, have some to take home to the children!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HYDE PARK, MAY 1 _Country Cousin._ "What is the meaning of this, policeman?" _Constable._ "Labour day, miss."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Boy_ (_to Cabby with somewhat shadowy horse_). "Look 'ere, guv'nor, you'd better tie a knot in 'is tail afore 'e gets wet, or 'e might slip through 'is collar!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Indignant Cabby._ "Shockin' bad 'orse, 'ave I? And wot's this hextra tuppence for?--to buy a new 'un with, eh?"] * * * * * QUIDDITIES.--_For the Old Ladies._ A tea-party without scandal is like a knife without a handle. Words without deeds are like the husks without the seeds. Features without grace are like a clock without a face. A land without the laws is like a cat without her claws. Life without cheer is like a cellar without beer. A master without a cane is like a rider without the rein. Marriage without means is like a horse without his beans. A man without a wife is like a fork without a knife. A quarrel without fighting is like thunder without lightning. * * * * * MOTTO FOR A SELF-MADE AND SUCCESSFUL MONEY-LENDER.--"A loan I did it!" * * * * * IMPROPER EXPRESSION.--Let it never be said, that when a man jumps for joy, "his delight knows no _bounds_." * * * * * THE opposite to a tea-fight--A coffee-mill. * * * * * [Illustration: THE TIP-CAT SEASON HAS NOW COMMENCED _Street Urchin._ "Now then, old 'un----Fore!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Crossing-Sweeper_ (_to Brown, whose greatest pride is his new brougham, diminutive driver, &c._). "'Igh! Stop! You've lost somethin'--the coachman!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Bus Driver._ "You wouldn't do that for me, would yer?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE STORES. BUY--OUR TAPESTRY ARTIST] * * * * * CATTLE-SHOW WEEK (_By Dumb-Crambo, Junior_) [Illustration: Scotch polled] [Illustration: Best wether] [Illustration: Class for roots] [Illustration: Steers] [Illustration: Best butter] [Illustration: Cross bred] * * * * * THE LINEN TRADE.--There have been a few transactions in rags at threepence a pound, and an extensive bone-grubber caused considerable excitement by bringing a quantity of waste-paper into the market which turned the scale in his own favour. * * * * * MOTTO FOR A MOURNING WAREHOUSE.--Die and let live. * * * * * OUT OF PLACE.--A vegetarian at the Cattle Show. * * * * * A FINANCIAL AUTHORITY BADLY WANTED.--The man who can say "bogus" to the investing goose. * * * * * THE VEGETABLE MARKET.--Asparagus is looking up, and radishes are taking a downward direction. Peas were almost nothing at the opening; and new potatoes were buoyant in the basket, but turned out rather heavy at the settling. A rush of bulls through the market had a dreadful effect upon apple-stalls and other minor securities; but all the established houses stood their ground, though the run occasioned a panic among some of the proprietors. * * * * * [Illustration: THE QUARTERLY ACCOUNTS.--_Clerk._ "Sorry to say, sir, there's a saddle we can't account for. Can't find out who it was sent to." _Employer._ "Charge it on all the bills."] * * * * * A LOVE SONG OF THE MONEY-MARKET I will not ask thee to be mine, Because I love thee far too well; Ah! what I feel, who thus resign All hope in life, no words can tell. Only the dictate I obey Of deep affection's strong excess, When, dearest, in despair, I say Farewell to thee and happiness. Thy face, so tranquil and serene, To see bedimmed I could not bear, Pinched with hard thrift's expression mean, Disfigured with the lines of care, I could not brook the day to see When thou would'st not, as thou hast now, Have all those things surrounding thee That light the eye and smooth the brow. Thou wilt smile calmly at my fear That want would e'er approach our door; I know it must to thee appear A melancholy dream: no more. Wilt thou not be with riches blest? Is not my fortune ample too? Must I not, therefore, be possessed, To feel that dread, of devils blue? Alas! my wealth, that should maintain, My bride in glory and in joy, Is built on a foundation vain, Which soon a tempest will destroy. Yes, yes, an interest high, I know My capital at present bears; But in a moment it may go: It is invested all in shares. The company is doomed to fall, Spreading around disaster dire, I hear that the directors all Are rogues--the greatest rogue thy sire! Go--seek a happier, wiser mate, Who had the wit to be content With the returns of his estate, And with Consols at three per cent! * * * * * THE FEAST OF ALL FOOLS.--More than is good for them. * * * * * THE "LAP" OF LUXURY.--Genuine milk in London. * * * * * DISH FOR DIDDLED SHAREHOLDERS.--Bubble and squeak. * * * * * SCIENCE GOSSIP.--"A City Clerk and a Naturalist" asks whether there is not a bird called the _ditto ditto_. Is he not thinking of our old acquaintance, the do-do? * * * * * HOW TO MAKE MONEY.--Get a situation in the Mint.--_Economist._ * * * * * STRANGE COIN.--Forty _odd_ pounds! * * * * * [Illustration: THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION.--_Paterfamilias (who is just beginning to feel himself at home in his delightfully new suburban residence) interrupts the wife of his bosom._ "'Seaside!' 'Change of air!!' 'Out of town!!!' What nonsense, Anna Maria! Why, good gracious me! what on earth can you want to be going '_out of town_' for, when you've got such a garden as _this_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SUGGESTIVE _Dissipated Ballad Howler._ "Sweet spirit, 'ear my prayer!"] * * * * * A CORRECTOR OF THE PRESS.--A policeman at a crowded crossing. * * * * * NEVER ON ITS LEGS.--The most constant faller in the metropolis: the Strand, because it is always being picked up. * * * * * THE MARKETS.--There was a good deal of liveliness in hops, and a party of strangers, who seemed to act together, took off the contents of all the _pockets_ they could lay hold of. There was little doing in corn, and what barley came in was converted into barley-water for a large consumer. Peas were distributed freely in small samples through the market, by means of tin tubes; and as usual there was a good deal of roguery in grain, which it was found necessary to guard against. * * * * * THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW.--The account day on the Stock Exchange. * * * * * A REGULAR MAKE-SHIFT.--The sewing machine. * * * * * CITY INTELLIGENCE.--We read, in a great aldermanic authority, that "a dinner is on the _tapis_." The _tapis_ alluded to is, of course, Gob'lin? * * * * * [Illustration: THE RESULT OF CARELESS BILL-POSTING] * * * * * [Illustration: A SKETCH NEAR PICCADILLY] * * * * * [Illustration: MADAME CHRYSANTH�ME (_With apologies to "Pierre Loti."_)] * * * * * A SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION.--_Mrs. Griddleton._ What are those square things, coachman, you put over the poor horse's eyes? _Driver._ Blinkers, ma'am. _Mrs. G._ Why do you put them on, coachman? _Driver._ To prevent the 'orse from blinking, ma'am. [_Inquiry closed._ * * * * * INSCRIPTION FOR STREET LETTER-BOXES.--"From Pillar to Post." * * * * * HOW THE TRUTH LEAKS OUT! SCENE--_Hyde Park. Time: Five o'clock._ _Friend._ Any news? Anything in the papers? _Government Clerk._ Can't say. Haven't been to the office to-day, my boy. * * * * * WHY should a chimney-sweeper be a good whist player? Because he's always following soot. * * * * * BUSINESS.--_Inquirer_ (_drawing up prospectus_). Shall I write "Company" with a big C? _Honest Broker._ Certainly, if it's a sound one, as it represents "Company" with a capital. * * * * * [Illustration: "Shave, or hair cut, sir?" "_Corns_, you fool!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOT FOR JOSEPH!] * * * * * [Illustration: PROOF POSITIVE _Old Lady._ "Do they sell good 'sperrits' at this 'ouse, mister?" '_Spectable-looking Man_ (_But_--). "Mos' d'schid'ly, look't (hic) me, mad'm--for shev'n p'nsh a'penny!!"] * * * * * THE SINKING FUND.--The Royal Humane Society's income. * * * * * SHREWD SUGGESTION.--It often happens, when the husband fails to be home to dinner, that it is one of his _fast_ days. * * * * * THE SCHOOL OF ADVERSITY.--A ragged school. * * * * * NEVER WASTE YOUR TIME.--Waste somebody else's. * * * * * MEN OF _THE_ TIME.--Chronometer makers. * * * * * A MAN IN ADVANCE OF HIS TIME.--One who has been knocked into the middle of next week. * * * * * THE DEAF MAN'S PARADISE.--The Audit Office. * * * * * SITE FOR A RAGGED SCHOOL.--Tattersall's. * * * * * STUFF AND NONSENSE.--A City Banquet, and the speeches after it. * * * * * [Illustration: ZOOLOGY "That's a porkypine, Sarah." "No, it ain't, Bill. It's a orstridge!"] * * * * * THE FISH MARKET.--Flounders were of course flat, but to the surprise of everyone they showed an inclination to come round towards the afternoon, and there were one or two transactions in whelks, but they were all of a comparatively insignificant character. Lobsters' claws were lazy at the opening, but closed heavily; and those who had a hand in them would gladly have been released if such a course had been possible. * * * * * "THE BEST POLICY."--That with the largest bonus. * * * * * FALSE QUANTITY.--Short measure. * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNUSUAL FLOW OF SPIRITS] * * * * * CONSOLATION STAKES.--Those you get at a City tavern the day after you have tried to eat the article at home. * * * * * [Illustration: A HORRIBLE BUSINESS.--_Master Butcher._ "Did you take old Major Dumbledore's ribs to No. 12?" _Boy._ "Yes, sir." _Master Butcher._ "Then, cut Miss Wiggles's shoulder and neck, and hang Mr. Foodle's legs until they're quite tender!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Girl_ (_to Newsvendor, from whom she has just purchased the latest war special_). "'Ere's your _paper_! Father says, if you don't mind 'e 'd rather 'ave the bill, 'cos there's more news in it."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Lady_ (_from the country_). "Well, I never! And to think burglary should have become a regular respectable trade!"] * * * * * A SPECULATOR'S APOLOGY.--You can't make the pot boil without bubbles. * * * * * TABLE-TURNING.--Looking for a train in _Bradshaw_. * * * * * [Illustration: ARMS FOR THE PROPOSED NEW WEST-END STOCK EXCHANGE (_To be placed over the principal entrance._) On a chevron _vert_, a pigeon plucked _proper_, between three rooks peckant, clawed and beaked _gules_. Crest: a head Semitic grimnant, winkant, above two pipes laid saltier-wise, _argent_, environed with a halo of bubbles _or_. Supporters: a bull and bear rampant _sable_, dented, hoofed and clawed _gules_. Motto: "Let us prey."] * * * * * [Illustration: A SENSITIVE PLANT.--"What, back in town already, old chappie?" "Yes, old chappie. Couldn't stand the country any longer. Cuckoo gave me the headache!"] * * * * * COMMERCIAL NEWS Policeman O, No. I, has got such an accumulation of corn in bond, under a tight boot, that it is expected he will be allowed the benefit of nominal or fixed duty. He is one of the most extensive growers of corn in the kingdom, and always has on foot a prodigious quantity, which, when he is in competition with those who try to take advantage of his position, must naturally prevent him from striking the average. Onions were dull at fourpence a rope, and wild ducks were heavy, with sand inside, at three and sixpence a couple. A considerable deal of business was done in flat-irons on New Year's Day, and there was a trifling advance upon them everywhere. The dividends on pawnbrokers' stock were payable last week, but the defaulters were very numerous. A highly respectable party in the City, in order to provide for interest coming due, is understood to have funded the greater part of his summer wardrobe. Long fours, in the candle-market, were dull, but the ten and a half reduced rushlights brightened up towards the close of the day surprisingly. * * * * * PERSONS WHO WOULD BENEFIT BY CREMATION.--Charwomen. * * * * * FORCED POLITENESS.--Bowing to circumstances. * * * * * A NAME OF ILL OMEN.--Persons who are subject to fits of toothache, and do not wish to be reminded of their distressing malady, should avoid going down Long Acre. * * * * * PAWNBROKERS' "DUPLICATES."--Their twins. * * * * * HAGIOLOGY ON 'CHANGE.--_The Brokers' Patron_--St. Simon Stock. * * * * * MOTTO FOR A TAILOR WHO MAKES COATS OF THE BEST ENDURING CLOTH.--_Fuimus, i.e., We Wear._ * * * * * THE LICENSING SYSTEM.--The big brewer is a vulture, and the unpaid magistrate instrumental to his rapacity is that vulture's beak. * * * * * THE BEST NOTE PAPER.--Bank of England. * * * * * [Illustration: CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR _Cabby_ (_to Gent who has been dining out_). "'Ere y'are, sir. This is your 'ouse--get out--be careful, sir--'ere's the step?" _Gent._ "Yesh. Thash allri, but wersh my _feet?_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Employer_ (_who simply_ WON'T _take any excuse for unpunctuality_). "You are very late, Mr. Jones. Go back at once, and come at the proper time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Hairdresser._ "Hair begins to get very thin, sir." _Customer._ "Yes." _Hairdresser._ "Have you tried our tonic lotion?" _Customer._ "Yes. That didn't do it though."] * * * * * [Illustration: "I 'ear that Tholomon Arons 'as 'ad 'is shop burnt out!" "Well, 'e 'th a very good feller, Aronth ith. 'E detherves it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HOW THE POOR LIVE The Rev. Mr. Smirk has brought an American millionaire friend to see for himself the distressed state of the poor of his parish. [_He'll give them a little notice next time._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Workman._ "Wot's it say, Bill, on that old sun-dial?" _Second Workman_ (_reading deliberately_). "It says, 'Do--to--day's-work--to--day.'" _First W._ "'_Do TWO days' work to-day!_' Wot O! Not me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL EVOLUTION.--_Tramp_ (_to benevolent but inquisitive lady_).--"Well, you see, mum, it were like this. I were a 'addick smoker by profession; then I got ill, and 'ad to go to the 'orspital; then I sold cats meat; but some'ow or other I got into _low water_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Smith._ "We've just come from Tannhauser, doctor." _The Doctor_ (_very deaf_). "Indeed! I hope you had better weather than we've been having!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FAMILIAR PHRASE EXPLAINED. _Robinson._ "Well, old chap, how did you sleep last night?" _Smith_ (_who had dined out_). "'Like a top.' As soon as my head touched the pillow, it went round and round!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Cab Tout._ "I say, Bill, lend me sixpence." _Cabby._ "I can't; but I can lend you fourpence." _Cab Tout._ "All right. Then you'l owe me twopence."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Barber._ "Your 'air's getting very thin on the top, sir. I should recommend our wash." _Customer._ "May I ask if that invigorating liquid is what _you_ have been in the habit of using?" [_Dead silence._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: FOGGY WEATHER.--"Has Mr. Smith been here?" "Yes; he was here about an hour ago." "Was I with him?"] * * * * * HIGHLY PROBABLE.--We understand that in consequence of the high price of meat, the Beef-eaters at the Tower have all turned vegetarians. * * * * * WHAT MILLIONAIRES SMOKE.--Golden returns. * * * * * THE UNIVERSAL WATCHWORD.--Tick! * * * * * [Illustration] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
35027	----	MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK [Illustration] PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * [Illustration: "READING BETWEEN THE LINES"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK _WITH 160 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, SIR JOHN TENNIEL, E. T. REED, L. RAVENHILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, REGINALD CLEAVER, AND MANY OTHER HUMOROUS ARTISTS [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN * * * * * A WORD AT STARTING [Illustration] ONLY a few years before MR. PUNCH began his long and brilliant career had passenger trains and a regular system of railway travelling come into existence. In his early days it was still very much of a novelty to undertake a journey of any length by train; a delightful uncertainty prevailed not only as to the arrival at a given destination, but equally as to getting away from a starting-place. Naturally, the pens and pencils of his clever contributors were then frequently in use to illustrate the humours of railway travel, and even down to the present time MR. PUNCH has not failed to find in the railway and its associations "a source of innocent merriment." It must be admitted that some thirty years ago the pages of PUNCH literally teemed with biting satires on the management of our railways, and the fact that his whole-hearted denunciations of the inefficient service, the carelessness which resulted in frequent accidents, the excessive charges, the inadequate accommodation, could have been allowed to pass without numerous actions for libel, is proof of the enormous advantages which the present generation enjoys in this great matter of comfortable, rapid and inexpensive transit. Where MR. PUNCH in his wrath, as voicing the opinion of the public, was wont to ridicule and condemn the railways and all associated therewith, we to-day are as ready, and with equal reason, to raise our voice in praise. But ridicule is ever a stronger impulse to wit than is appreciation, and in these later days when we are all alive to the abounding merits of our railway system MR. PUNCH has had less to say about it. If we were to cull from his pages written in the days of his wrath we might be held guilty of presenting a gross travesty of the conditions now obtaining. Thus it is that in one or two cases only have we retained passages from his earlier chronicles, such as "Rules for the Rail" and "The Third-Class Traveller's Petition," which have some historical value as reminders that the railway comfort of the present day presents a remarkable contrast to the not very distant past. To-day every member of the community may be regarded as a railway traveller, so large a part does the railway play in modern life; and it will be admitted that, with all our improvements, the element of humour has not been eliminated from our comings and goings by train. We trust it never may. Here, then, is a compilation of the "best things," literary and pictorial, that have appeared in MR. PUNCH'S pages on the subject, and with his cheery presence as our guard, let us set forth upon our excursion into the Realm of Fun! * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK RAILWAY JOKES _As Played Daily on the Principal Lines_ _Turning Business into Pleasure._--Take a traveller pressed for time, and induce him to enter a train supposed to be in correspondence with another train belonging to another line, and by which other train the traveller proposes to proceed to his destination. As the first train arrives at the junction, start off the second train _en route_ for Town. The dismay of the traveller when he finds his journey interrupted will be, to say the least, most mirth-moving. _The Panic-stricken Passengers._--Allow an express train to arrive at the station of a rival company two hours behind its time. The travellers will, of course, be anxious to learn the cause of the delay, and will (again of course) receive no sort of information on the subject from the servants of the rival company. Should there be any nervous ladies in the train, the fun will become fast and furious. _A Lark in the Dark._--Start a train ten minutes late, and gradually lose time until it arrives in the middle of a long tunnel, and then stop the engine. Stay where you are for half an hour, whistling and letting off steam every now and then, to increase the excitement. Should it be known in the train that an express is due on the line of rails already occupied by the carriages, the humour of the situation will be greatly improved. Before playing this joke, it will be as well to lock the carriage-doors, and to carefully sever the cord of communication existing (on some lines) between the passengers and the guard. _A Comical Meal._--On a long journey promise that the train shall stop at a stated station ten minutes for refreshments. Lose time in the customary manner, and allow the train to arrive at the stated station half an hour late. Permit the passengers to descend and to enter the refreshment-rooms. The moment they are served, drive them back hurriedly into the carriages with the threat that if they are not immediately seated in their places they will be left behind. When the passengers are once more in their compartments, the carriage-doors should be securely locked, and the train can then remain waiting beside the platform for three-quarters of an hour. _The Strange Companions._--Invite ladies and gentlemen to travel in a first-class carriage. When the compartment is a third full, over-fill it with "merry" excursionists holding third-class tickets. The contrast between the "merriment" of the excursionists and the disgust of the ladies and gentlemen will be found a source of never-ending amusement. _A Wholesome Joke (added by Mr. Punch and suggested to the Passengers)._--Whenever you find yourselves subjected to the "fun" of the railway officials, write to the newspapers and obtain a summons against the directors of the company which you believe to be in fault. _Verb. sap._ * * * * * [Illustration: "Half third return to Brixton, please." "Half! What's your age?" "I'm thirteen at home; but I'm only nine and a half on railways."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Friend (to minor rail official at provincial station)_ "'Ullo Cocky, where 'ave you been all this time?" _Minor R.O. (with dignity)._ "Oh I had to go up on duty for the Naval Review at Spit'ead, I 'ad." _Friend (impressed)._ "Ah! Fine sight I expect it wur?" _Minor R.O._ "Well, I can't say as I _saw much of it. I war taking the tickets at Vaux'all!"_] * * * * * [Illustration: AN EXCITING TIME Poor Jones is convinced that his worst fears are at last realised, and he is left alone with a _dangerous lunatic!!_ (It was only little Wobbles running anxiously over the points of his coming speech to the electors of Plumpwell-on-Tyme!!)] * * * * * [Illustration: A TRAGEDY ON THE GREAT NORTHERN SCENE--_A third-class carriage._ TIME--_Three hours before the next station._ DRAMATIS PERSONÆ--_Jones and Robinson._ "It's the _last!_--and it's a Tändstickor. It'll only strike on the box!" "Strike it on the box, then;--but for Heaven's sake, be careful!" "Yes; but, like a fool, I've just pitched the box out of window!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WHAT'S SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE," &c. _Passenger (in second class)._ "I think I've got into the wrong carriage." _Ticket Inspector (sternly)._ "The difference must be paid!" _Passenger (triumphantly)._ "Oh, just so! Then I'll trouble you for three shillings--I've a first-class ticket!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A REMINDER _Old Lady._ "Now, porter, you're quite sure you've put all my luggage in?--the big portmantle and----" _Porter._ "All right, mum." _Old Lady._ "And you're certain I've not left anything behind----" _Porter._ "No, mum, not even a copper!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOTES OF TRAVEL _The Cunard "Special" full speed for London_ _John Bull (of the World in general)._ "There is nothing to be alarmed at. Surely your American trains go much faster than this?" _Jonathan (from the West in particular)._ "Why, yaas. But 'tain't that. I'm afeard it'll run off your darned little island!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Impatient Traveller._ "Er--how long will the next train be, portah?" _Porter._ "Heaw long? Weel, sir ah dunno heaw ah con saay to hauf an inch. Happen there'll be fower or five co-aches an' a engine or soa."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LEVEL CROSSING "Are there no more trains this evening on the up line, porter?" "No, mum." "And no more trains on the down line?" "No, mum." "Is there no _special_ train?" "No, mum." "Nor an _excursion_ train?" "No, mum. The gates are to for the rest of the evening." "You're quite sure?" "Yes, mum." "Then come, Amelia. We can cross the line!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Maid._ "Is this a smoking compartment, young man?" _Obliging Passenger._ "No, mum. 'Igher up!"] * * * * * THE MISSING SPINSTER You may boast your great improvements, Your inventions and your "movements," For those who stay at home, and those who travel; But arrangements for the latter Are so complex, that the matter Makes them dotty as a hatter To unravel. There was once an ancient lady Whom we knew as Miss O'Grady, Who was asked to spend the autumn down at Trew. So in fear and trepidation She sought out her destination, And betook her to the station-- Waterloo. She took her little ticket And she did not fail to stick it With half-a-dozen coppers in her glove. Another moment found her With a plenty to astound her-- For she'd notice-boards all round her, And above! So she studied every number On those sign-posts that encumber All the station; and she learned them one by one; But she found the indication Of the platforms of the station Not much use as information When she'd done. In her shocking state of fluster Little courage could she muster, Yet of porters she accosted one or two; But, too shy to claim attention, And too full of apprehension, She could get no one to mention "Which for Trew." So she trudged through every station-- "North," "South," "Main,"--in quick rotation, And then she gave a trial to the "Loop"; Like some hapless new Pandora She sat down a-gasping for a Little hope to live on--or a Plate o' soup. * * * * * 'Mid the bustle and the hissing An old maiden lady's "Missing"-- In some corner of the complicated maze; And round about she's gliding In unwilling, hideous hiding, On the platform, loop, or siding, In a craze. And still they cannot find her, For she leaves no trace behind her At Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Waterloo; But she passes like a comet With the myst'ry of Mahomet-- Her course unknown--and from it Not a clue! * * * * * [Illustration: MOST OFFENSIVE _Railway Porter._ "If you please, sir, was this your'n?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A RAILWAY COLLUSION--A HINT TO STATION-MASTERS _Porter._ "Now, then, Bill! are you off?" _Cab Ruffian._ "No; what sort of fare is it?" _Porter._ "Single gent, with small bag." _Ruffian._ "Oh, _he_ won't do! Can't yer find us a old lady and two little gals with lots o' boxes? I'm good for a pint!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CHANGELINGS; OR, A STORY WITHOUT (POLITE) WORDS. "Them's the only dogs as come by this train, sir. The guard says as 'ow there was three sportin' dogs, as 'ad ate their label off, wot's gone on by the Scotch Express."] * * * * * RATHER 'CUTE.--_Small but Sharp Passenger._ "Look here! You didn't give me the right change just now!" _Clerk._ "Too late, sir! You should have spoken when you took your ticket!" _Passenger._ "_Should_ I? Well, it's of no consequence to me; but you gave me half-a-sovereign too much! Ta-ta!" _[Exit._ * * * * * [Illustration: SMOKING COMPARTMENT WAIT TILL THE TRAIN STOPS THIRD CLASS. TO SEAT SIX UNDERGROUND STUDIES] * * * * * [Illustration: THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAYS] _Stoker._ "Wery sorry to disturb yer at supper, ladies, but could yer oblige me with a scuttle o' coals for our engine, as we've run short of 'em this journey?" * * * * * REPARTEES FOR THE RAILWAY "No smoking allowed." Of course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in silence. "Want the window closed." Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral. "Find my journal a nuisance." Dear me! was under the impression it was a newspaper. "Allow you to pass." Afraid only the Secretary can manage that for you; he alone has power to issue free tickets. "Do I mind the draught?" Not when I am attending to the chessman. "Do I know the station?" Of the people on the platform? Probably lower middle class. "Is this right for Windsor?" Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else. "Are we allowed five minutes for lunch?" Think not; but you can have sandwiches at the counter. "Isn't this first-class?" Quite excellent--first-rate--couldn't be better! "I want to go second." Then you had better follow me. "I am third." Indeed! And who were first and second. "I think this must be London." Very likely, if it is, it mustn't be anywhere else. * * * * * THE WAY OF THE WHIRLED.--The rail-way. * * * * * "VERY HARD LINES."--The railways. * * * * * [Illustration: RAILWAY AMALGAMATION--A PLEASANT STATE OF THINGS] _Passenger._ "What's the matter, guard?" _Guard (with presence of mind)._ "Oh, nothing particular, sir. We've only run into an excursion train!" _Passenger._ "But, good gracious! there's a train just behind us, isn't there?" _Guard._ "Yes, sir! But a boy has gone down the line with a signal; and it's very likely they'll see it!" * * * * * [Illustration: METROPOLITAN RAILWAY TYPES. The party that _never_ says, "Thank | The party that _always_ says, you!" | "Thank you!" When you open the door, shut the window, or give up your seat for her.] * * * * * THE THIRD-CLASS TRAVELLER'S PETITION (1845) Pity the sorrows of a third-class man, Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened o'er, Who for his fare has paid you all he can: Cover him in, and let him freeze no more! This dripping hat my roofless pen bespeaks, So does the puddle reaching to my knees; Behold my pinch'd red nose--my shrivell'd cheeks: You should not have such carriages as these. In vain I stamp to warm my aching feet, I only paddle in a pool of slush; My stiffen'd hands in vain I blow and beat; Tears from my eyes congealing as they gush. Keen blows the wind; the sleet comes pelting down, And here I'm standing in the open air! Long is my dreary journey up to Town, That is, alive, if ever I get there. Oh! from the weather, when it snows and rains, You might as well, at least, defend the poor; It would not cost you much, with all your gains: Cover us in, and luck attend your store. * * * * * [Illustration: A CAUTION No wonder Miss Lavinia Stitchwort thought the people very rude at the station when she went for her "water-proof" (which she had lost on the railway some time before). She found out when she got home she had not removed the "unclaimed property" label!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Nervous Party._ "The train seems to be travelling at a fearful pace, ma'am." _Elderly Female._ "Yus, ain't it? My Bill's a-drivin' of the ingin, an' 'e _can_ make 'er go when 'e's got a drop o' drink in 'im!"] * * * * * THE ORIGIN OF RAILWAYS.--The first idea of railways is of very ancient date, for we hear of the Great Norman line immediately after the Conquest. * * * * * RAILWAY NEWS.--There is an old lady who says, that she always likes to travel by a trunk line, because then she feels confidence about the safety of her luggage. * * * * * "RAILWAY COUPLING."--When the porter marries the young lady in the refreshment department. * * * * * [Illustration: THE FIRST "BRADSHAW" A reminiscence of Whitsun Holidays in Ancient Egypt. From an old-time tabl(e)ature] * * * * * RAILWAY REFORM.--Compartments to be reserved for ladies over and under a certain age. As there will invariably be compartments for those who smoke, so also for those who snuff. The former will be labelled as usual "for Smokers," the latter "for Snuffers." The last-mentioned will be tried as far as Hampton Wick. The "Sleeping Cars" will be divided into "Snorers" and "Non-Snorers." Tickets will be issued subject to these regulations. It is important to the Shareholders to know that on and after the abolition of the Second Class, the motto of the Company will be "No Returns." * * * * * A PLUTOCRAT.--_Swell._ "'Dyou oblige me--ah--by shutting your window?--ah----" _Second Passenger (politely)._ "Really, sir, if you will not press it, as yours is shut, the air is so warm I would rather keep this open. You seem to take great care of yourself, sir----" _Swell._ "Care of myself! Should wather think so. So would you, my dear fel-lah, if you'd six thousand a ye-ar!!" * * * * * THE SLOW TRAIN On Southern lines the trains which crawl Deliberately to and fro Make life a burden; of them all This is the slowest of the slow. Impatiently condemned to bear What is indeed an awful bore, I've seemed to be imprisoned there Three days, or more. The angry passengers complain; Of new electric cabs they talk. They sit and swear at such a train, And ask, "Shall we get out and walk?" It's true the time seems extra long When spent in such a wretched way, My calculation may be wrong-- Three hours, say. The other day I had to come By this slow train, but facing me Was no old buffer, dull and dumb; I chatted with my vis-à-vis. A pretty smile, a pretty dress, Gay spirits no fatigue could crush; With her it was a quick express, Three minutes' rush. For once I sadly left the train, For once the time too quickly passed. I still could angrily complain, Why travel so absurdly fast? At lightning speed that special went (I'd paid the ordinary fare), Now looking back it seems we spent Three seconds there. * * * * * [Illustration: A BANK HOLIDAY SKETCH _Facetious Individual (from carriage window)._ "Change 'ere, 'ave we? Then kindly oblige me with a sardine-opener!"] * * * * * WEDNESBURY STATION.--_First Collier._ "Trains leave for Birmingham, 10.23 a.m., 6.23 p.m." _Second Collier._ "What's p.m.?" _First Do._ "A penny a mile, to be sure." _Second Do._ "Then, what's a.m.?" _First Do._ "Why, that must be a a'penny a mile." * * * * * [Illustration: RAILWAY LUXURIES _Excursionist._ "I say--'ere! This water's full o'crumbs!" _Aquarius._ "That ain't crumbs! That's only the sawdust off the hice!"] * * * * * RAILWAY AND SOCIAL SYNONYMS _'Traction Engines._--Too many Girls of the Period. _Truck-Trains._--Most marriage processions at St. George's, Hanover Square. _Continuous Brakes._--The results of lodging house attendance. _Changing Lines._--What we often see after the honeymoon. _Shunted on to a Siding._--Paterfamilias when Baby appears. * * * * * [Illustration: A party who is quite in favour of light railways for town and country.] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR COUNTRY COUSINS _The Gushington girls have just arrived by rail, and are inhaling the odours of an average London terminus._ _Miss Milly Gushington._ "Wait a bit, uncle." (_Sniff._) "Oh, isn't it lovely, Hilly? Doesn't it just _smell_ of the season?" _Miss Hilly Gushington._ "Don't speak about it--only sniff!"] * * * * * THE TOURIST'S ALPHABET (_Railway Edition_) A is the affable guard whom you square: B is the _Bradshaw_ which leads you to swear: C is the corner you fight to obtain: D is the draught of which others complain: E are the enemies made for the day: F is the frown that you wear all the way: G is the guilt that you feel going third: H is the humbug by which you're deterred: I is the insult you'll get down the line: J is the junction where you'll try to dine: K is the kettle of tea three weeks old: L are the lemon drops better unsold: M is the maiden who says there's no meat: N is the nothing you thus get to eat: O is the oath that you use--and do right: P is the paper to which you _don't_ write: Q are the qualms to directors unknown: R is the row which you'll find all your own: S is the smash that is "nobody's fault:" T is the truth, that will come to a halt: U is the pointsman--who's up the whole night: V is the verdict that says it's "all right." W stands for wheels flying off curves: X for express that half shatters your nerves: Y for the yoke from your neck that you fling, and Z for your zest as you cut the whole thing! * * * * * [Illustration: STARTLING! _Constable (to nervous passenger, arrived by the Ramsgate train)._ "I've got yer"--(_"Ger-acious Heavens!" thinks little Skeery with a thrill of horror. "Takes me for somebody that's 'wanted'!"_)--"a cab, sir."] * * * * * "THE MORE HASTE THE WORSE SPEED" SCENE--_The Charing Cross Station of the District Railway._ _Country Cousin, bound for Bayswater, to ticket clerk, with scrupulous politeness._ If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater. _Ticket Clerk (abruptly)._ No first-class here. Go to the next booking-place. [_Country Cousin retires rebuffed, and finds his way to next booking-place._ _Country Cousin._ If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater. _Ticket Clerk (explosively)._ Single or return? Look sharp! You're not the only person in London! _Country Cousin (humbly)._ Single, please. [_The ticket and change are slapped down unceremoniously, and Country Cousin is shoved on from behind by an impatient City man. Rushes precipitately down brass-bound steps, and presents his ticket to be snipped._ _Snipper (inspecting ticket)._ Queen's Road, Bayswater? Wrong side! Go up the stairs, and turn to the right. Look sharp! There's a train just coming in! [_Country Cousin, with a deepened sense of humiliation and bewilderment, hurries upstairs, turns to the right, and reaches entrance to platform just in time to have gate slammed in his face. The train being gone, gate is re-opened, and the necessary snipping performed on his ticket._ _Country Cousin (to Snipper, politely)._ If you please--will the next train take me to Queen's Road, Bayswater? _Saturnine Official._ Can't tell you till the train comes. [_Country Cousin paces the platform in moody silence, and wishes he had taken a cab. Enter train, rushing madly along._ _Stentorian voice (without stops)._ Earl's Court North End and Hammersmith train first and second-class forward third behind! [_Country Cousin makes his way towards a carriage, but finds it full. Tries another with the same result, and is frantically endeavouring to open the door of a third-class compartment in which there is one vacant seat next a fat woman with a baby, when train moves on._ _Indignant Official._ Stand away there! Stand away, will you! (_Drags back Country Cousin._) That ain't your train! What do you want a-tryin to get in there for? [_Country Cousin, in deeper humiliation, re-arranges dress, disturbed by recent struggle and resumes his agitated march._ _Enter another train more madly than the first._ _Stentorian voice._ High Street Kensington Notting Hill Gate and Bayswater train main line train! _Country Cousin (to Haughty Official, in an agony of entreaty)._ Is this train for Queen's Road, Bayswater? _Haughty Official._ Yes, Queen's Road. Look sharp! She'll be off in a minute. [_Country Cousin scrambles through the crowd to a carriage; drops his umbrella; stoops to pick it up and on rising finds train three parts through the tunnel. Exit Country Cousin in a rage, to get a cab, having lost twenty minutes, the price of his unused ticket, his self-respect, and that of everybody he has come in contact with in the Metropolitan District Railway Station._ * * * * * [Illustration: WHEN IN DOUBT--DON'T! SCENE--_Country Station_ _Gent._ "Are the sandwiches fresh, my boy?" _Country Youth._ "Don't know, I'm sure, sir. I've only been here a fortnight!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DILEMMA _Station-Master._ "Now then! Look alive with they dougs! Where are you----" _Overdriven Porter._ "Hoots! they've a' eaten their tuck'ts, an' dinna ken fa the're gaen tae!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RISKS _Shrewd Clerk (with an eye to his percentage)._ "Take an accident insurance ticket, sir?" _Passenger (nervously)._ "Wha' for?!" _Clerk._ "Well, sir, nothing has gone wrong 'twixt this and London for the last fourteen months; and, by the haverages, the next smash on the hup line is hoverdue exactly six weeks and three days!!" [_Old Gent forks out with alacrity._] * * * * * TO MY "PUFF PUFF" Puff me away from the noise and the worry; Puff me away from the desolate town; Puff me--but don't be in too great a hurry; Puff me, but don't in a tunnel break down. Puff me away to my loved Isle of Thanet Swiftly--or e'en at the pace called the snail's, Puff me the sea-breeze, and pleasantly fan it Into my nostrils--but don't leave the rails. Puff me away, far from Parliament's houses; For brown moors of Scotland my soul is athirst-- For a smell of the heather, a pop at the grouses; Puff me, but mind that your boiler don't burst. Puff me _en route_ for care-killing Killarney, Tenderly take me, as bridegroom his bride; Bear me towards Erin, blest birthplace of Blarney, Puff, puff, like blazes--but, _please_, don't "collide!" * * * * * [Illustration: DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE _Customer_ (Time--_Saturday afternoon_). "I don't want all coppers in change for that shilling. Haven't you got any silver?" _Newsboy._ "All right, sir. Want a little Sunday money, I s'pose, sir?"] * * * * * TO A RAILWAY FOOT-WARMER At first I loved thee--thou wast warm,-- The porter called thee "'ot," nay, "bilin'." I tipped him as thy welcome form He carried, with a grateful smile, in. Alas! thou art a faithless friend, Thy warmth was but dissimulation; Thy tepid glow is at an end, And I am nowhere near my station! I shiver, cold in feet and hands, It is a legal form of slaughter, They don't warm (!) trains in other lands With half a pint of tepid water. I spurn thy coldness with a kick, And pile on rugs as my protectors, I'd send--to warm them--to Old Nick, Thy parsimonious directors! * * * * * DIFFERENT WAYS OF TRAVELLING.--Man travels to expand his ideas; but woman--judging from the number of boxes she invariably takes with her--travels only with the object of expanding her dresses. * * * * * "THE BEST OF MOTIVES."--Locomotives. * * * * * [Illustration: "A LIBERAL MEASURE" _Rude Boy (to stout party on weighing-machine, which is out of order, and won't work)._ "Shove in another penny, guv'nor. It's double fare to chaps o' your size!"] * * * * * FOXHUNTER'S DEFINITION OF A MAIL-TRAIN.--A Post and Rails. * * * * * AS A RULE.--"Signal Failures"--Railway accidents. * * * * * THREE RAILWAY GAUGES.--Trains are made for the Broad Gauge, the Narrow Gauge, and the Lug-gage. * * * * * [Illustration: ZOOLOGY _Railway Porter (to old lady travelling with a menagerie of pets)._ "'Station-master say, mum, as cats is 'dogs,' and rabbits is 'dogs,' and so's parrots; but this ere 'tortis' is a insect, so there ain't no charge for it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOGIC _Stout Party._ "What! no room! Ain't that man just got out? If people can get out, people can get in!"] * * * * * THE QUICKEST OF ALL EXPRESS TRAINS.--The train of thought. * * * * * STARTLING RAILWAY ACCIDENT.--A punctual train. * * * * * KEEP YOUR TEMPER.--Avoid entering into an argument with a deaf man in a railway carriage, as it is sure to lead to high words. * * * * * "DON'T TOUCH ME, OR I'LL SCREAM!" as the engine whistle said to the stoker. * * * * * [Illustration: "A MAN AND A PASSENGER!" _Sweep._ "'Elp us up with my luggage, mate!"] * * * * * VOCES POPULI I SCENE--_Interior of Third-Class Smoking Compartment. First Passenger, apparently a small Suburban Tradesman, of a full and comfortable habit, seated by window. To him enters a seedy but burly Stranger, in a state of muzzy affability, with an under-suggestion of quarrelsomeness._ _The Stranger (leaning forward mysteriously)._ Yer saw that gentleman I was a torkin' to as I got in? Did yer know 'oo he _was_? _First Passenger (without hauteur, but with the air of a person who sets a certain value on his conversation)._ Well, he didn't look much like the Archbishop of Canterbury. _The S._ He's a better man than _'im_! That was Brasher, the middling weight! he giv' me the orfice straight about Killivan and Smifton, _he_ did! _First P. (interested, as a lover of the Noble Art of Self Defence)._ Ah! did he, though? _The S._ He _did_; I went up to him, and I sez, "Excuse me," I sez, like that, I sez, "but are you an American, or a German?" _First P. (with superiority)._ He wouldn't like that--being taken for a German. _The S. (solemnly)._ Those were my very words! And he sez, "No, I'm a Yank," and then I knoo 'oo 'e was, d'ye see? and so (_hazily_) one word brought up another, and we got a torkin'. If I was to tell you I'd _seen_ Killivan, I should be tellin' yer a lie! _First P._ Well, I won't ask you to do that. _The S. (firmly)._ Nor I wouldn't. But you've on'y to look at Smifton to see 'e's never 'ad a smack on the 'ed. Now, there's Sulton--'e's a _good_ man, _'e_ is--'e _is_ a good man! Look 'ow that feller knocks 'isself about! But if I was to pass _my_ opinion, it 'ud be this--Killivan's _in_ it for science, he ain't in it to _take_ anything; you may take that from me! _First P._ (_objecting to be treated as an_ ingénu). It's not the first time I've heard of it, by a long way. _The S._ Ah! and it's the truth, the Bible truth (_putting his hand on First P.'s knee_). Now, you b'leeve what I'm a'goin' to tell yer? _First P. (his dignity a little ruffled)._ I will--if it's anything in reason. _The S._ It's this: My opinion of Killivan and Sulton's this--Sulton _brought_ Killivan _out_. I'm on'y tellin' yer from 'earsay, like; but I _know_ this myself--one lived in 'Oxton, and the other down Bermondsey way. 'E's got a nice little butcher's business there at this present moment; and 'e's a mug if 'e turns it up! _First P. (axiomatically)._ Every man's a mug who turns a good business up. _The S._ Yer right! And (_moralising_) it ain't _all_ 'oney with that sort o' people, neither, I can tell yer! I dessay, now, when all's put to the test, you're not a moneyed man--no more than I am myself? _First P. (not altogether flattered)._ Well--that's as _may_ be. _The S._ But I b'leeve yer to be a man o' the world, although I don't _know_ yer. _First P. (modestly)._ I used to be in it at one time. _The S. (confidentially)._ I'm in it _now_. I don't get my livin' by it, though, mind yer. I'm a mechanic, I am--to a certain extent. I've been in America. _There's_ a country now--they don't over-tax like they do 'ere! _First P. (sympathetically)._ There you _'ave_ touched a point--we're taxed past all common sense. Why, this very tobacco I'm smoking now is charged---- _The S._ Talkin' of terbaccer, I don't mind 'aving a pipe along with yer myself. _First P. (handing his pouch with a happy mixture of cordiality and condescension)._ There you are, then. _The S. (afflicted by sudden compunction as he fills his pipe)._ I 'ope I'm not takin' a libbaty in askin yer? _First P._ Liberty? rubbish! I'm not one to make distinctions where _I_ go. I'd as soon talk to one man as I would another--you're setting your coat alight. _The S._ I set fire to myself once, and I never live in 'opes of doing so agen! It's a funny thing with me, I can smoke a cigar just as well as I could a short pipe. I'm no lover of a cigar, if you understand me; but I can go into company where they _are_, d'ye _see_? _First P. (shortly)._ _I_ see. _The S. (with fresh misgivings)._ You'll excuse me if I've taken a libbaty with yer! _First P. (with a stately air)._ We settled all that just now. _The S. (after a scrutiny)._ I tell yer what my idear of _you_ is--that you're a _Toff!_ _First P. (disclaiming this distinction a little uneasily)._ No, no--there's nothing of the toff about _me!_ _The S. (defiantly)._ Well, you're a _gentleman_, anyway? _First P. (aphoristic, but uncomfortable)._ We can all of us be that, so long as we behave ourselves. _The S. (much pleased by this sentiment)._ Right agen! give us yer 'and--if it's not takin a libbaty. I'm one of them as can't bear to take a libbaty with no matter 'oo. Yer know it's a real pleasure to me to be settin' 'ere torkin' comfortably to you, without no thought of either of us fallin' out. There's some people as wouldn't feel 'appy, not without they was 'aving a row. Now you and me ain't _like_ that! _First P. (shifting about)._ Quite so--quite so, of course! _The S._ Not but what if it was to come to a row between us, I could take _my_ part! _First P. (wishing there was somebody else in the compartment)._ I--I hope we'll keep off that. _The S. (devoutly)._ So do I! _I_ 'ope we'll keep off o' that. But yer never know what may bring it on--and there it is, d'ye see! You and me might fall out without intending it. I've bin a bit of a boxer in my day. Do you doubt my word?--if so, say it to my face! _First P._ I've no wish to offend you, I'm sure. _The S._ I never take a lie straight from any man, and there you 'ave me in a word! If you're _bent_ on a row, you'll find me a glutton, that's all I can tell you! _First P. (giving himself up for lost)._ But I'm _not_ bent on a row--qu--quite otherwise! _The S._ You should ha' said so afore, because, when my back's once put _up_, I'm--'ello! we're stopping, I get out 'ere, don't I? _First P. (eagerly)._ Yes--make haste, they don't stay long anywhere on this line! _The S. (completely mollified)._ Then I'll say good-bye to yer. (_Tenderly._) P'raps we may meet agen, some day. _First P._ We--we'll hope so--good day to you, wish you luck! _The S. (solemnly)._ Lord _love_ yer! (_Pausing at door._) I 'ope you don't think me the man to fall out with nobody. I _never_ fall out---- [_Falls out into the arms of a porter, whom he pummels as the train moves on, and First Passenger settles into a corner with a sigh of relief._ * * * * * [Illustration: NOT QUITE UP TO DATE _Somerset Rustic (on seeing the signal drop)._ "Ar don't know if it'd make any difference, maister, but thic ther' bit o' board of yourn 'ave a fallen down!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOTES OF TRAVEL _Foreign Husband (whose wife is going to remain longer)._ "Gif me two dickets. Von for me to come back, and von for my vife not to come back!"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE UNDERGROUND _Lady (who has just entered carriage, to friend)._ "Fancy finding you in the train! Why couldn't I have met you yesterday, now? I had such a wretched journey! But one never _does_ meet people when one wants to!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LA BELLE DAME SANS "MERCI"] * * * * * [Illustration: "TOUT VIENT À QUI SAIT ATTENDRE" Shouting heard--engine whistles frantically--brakes applied violently--train stops--accident, no doubt--alarm of first-class passengers--stout gent flies at communicator--child shrieks--terrified lady calls out, "Help! guard! What is it? Let us out!" _Guard._ "Oh, no fear, miss. On'y driver he just see a lot o' fine mushyroons, miss, and we----he like 'em for breakfast. All right! Away y' go!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A STATION ON THE NORTH STAFFORDSHIRE LINE _Traveller._ "Now then, boy, where's the clerk who gives the ticket?" _Boy (after finishing an air he was whistling)._ "I'm the clerk." _Traveller._ "Well, sir! And what time does the train leave for London?" _Boy._ "Oh, I don't know. No time in pertickler. Sometimes one time--and sometimes another."] * * * * * [Illustration: TRYING POSITION OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN He determines to try the automatic photographing machine, the station being empty. To his dismay a crowd has gathered, and watches the operation.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Workman (politely, to old lady, who has accidentally got into a smoking compartment)._ "You don't object to my pipe, I 'ope, mum?" _Old Lady._ "Yes, I _do_ object, very strongly!" _Workman._ "Oh! Then out you get!!"] * * * * * A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY LONG AFTER STERNE'S _(A Romance for a "Ladies Only" Compartment)_ SCENE--_Reserved Carriage on the London and Utopian Railway. Female Traveller in possession. Enter, suddenly, a Male Traveller._ _Male Traveller._ A thousand apologies! I really nearly missed my train, so was obliged to take refuge in this carriage. Trust I don't intrude. _Fem. T. (after a pause)._ As you have no one to present you, I must ask "if you are any lady's husband?" _Male T. (with a sigh)._ Alas, no! I am a wretched bachelor! _Fem. T. (drily)._ That is nothing out of the common. I have been given to understand that all bachelors are miserable. _Male T._ No doubt your husband agrees with the opinion? _Fem. T. (calmly)._ I have no experience. I am a spinster. _Male T. (smiling)._ Indeed! And you selected a ladies' carriage? _Fem. T. (quickly)._ Because there was no room anywhere else. _Male T._ Well, well! At the next station I can get into a smoking compartment. _Fem. T._ Surely there is no need to take so much trouble. _Male T._ Why! don't _you_ object to a cigar? _Fem. T._ Not in the least. The fact is, I smoke myself! [_Red fire and tobacco._ _Male T. (after a pause)._ I have it on my conscience to make a correction. I said just now that I was not somebody's husband. _Fem. T. (annoyed)._ Then you are married! _Male T. (with intention)._ Well, not yet. But if you like you can receive me as somebody's betrothed. _Fem. T. (regardless of grammar)._ Who's somebody? _Male T. (smiling)._ Think of your own name. _Fem. T._ What next? _Male T._ Why, give it to me; and if you like you shall have mine in exchange. (_Train arrives at a station._) _Guard (without)._ All change! [_And later on they do._ * * * * * THE PATRON SAINT OF RAILWAYS.-St. Pan-crash. * * * * * [Illustration: A NON-SEQUITUR _Affable Old Gentleman (who has half a minute to spare)._ "I suppose now, my boy, you take a good sum of money during the day?" _Shoeblack._ "Yessur, 'cause lots o' gintleman, when they wants to ketch a train, gives me sixpence!" [_Old gent finds the sixpence, but in thinking over it afterwards, couldn't see the connection._] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TWOPENNY TUBE "Hi, guv'nor, there ain't no station named on this ticket!" "No; all our tickets are alike." "Then, 'ow do I know where I'm going?"] * * * * * [Illustration: HIGHLY ACCOMMODATING _Stout Party (rather hot)._ "Hope you don't find the breeze too much, sir?" _Fellow Passenger._ "Oh! not at all, sir! I rather like it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SKYLIGHT VIEW--A RAILWAY STATION] * * * * * [Illustration: _Traveller (to Irish porter labelling luggage)._ "Don't you keep a brush for that work, porter?" _Porter._ "No, yer honour. Our tongues is the only insthrumints we're allowed. But--they're aisy kep' wet, yer honour!" [_Hint taken._] * * * * * IN A SLOW TRAIN "Look out for squalls"--on land or sea-- Where duty or where pleasure calls, A golden rule it seems to be, Look out for squalls. Yet in a train that slowly crawls Somehow it most appeals to me. For then sometimes, it so befalls, An infant on its mother's knee In my compartment Fate installs-- Which makes a nervous man, you see, Look out for squalls! * * * * * RAILWAY MAXIMS (_Perfectly at the Service of any Railway Company_) Delays are dangerous. A train in time saves nine. Live and let live. After a railway excursion, the doctor. Do not halloo till you are out of the train. Between two trains we fall to the ground. Fire and water make good servants but bad masters. A director is known by the company he keeps. A railway train is the thief of time. There is no place like home--but the difficulty is to get there. The farther you go, the worse is your fare. It's the railway pace that kills. The great charm about a railway accident is that, no matter how many lives are lost, "no blame is ever attached to any one." A railway is long, but life is short--and generally the longer a railway, the shorter your life. * * * * * A DISTINCTION WITH A DIFFERENCE.--_Disappointed Porter (to Mate)._ I thought you said he was a gentleman. _Mate._ No, that's where you mistook me. _I_ said he was a gent. * * * * * [Illustration: _Sylvanus._ "Foxes are scarce in my country; but we manage it with a drag now and then!" _Urbanus._ "Oh--er--yes. But how do you get it over the fences?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Porter._ "Now, marm, will you please to move, or was you corded to your box?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THERE BE LAND RATS" _Jack Ashore._ "Bill, just keep a heye on my jewel-case 'ere while I go and get the tickets. There's a lot o' sharks always cruisin' about these railway stations, I've heard!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER AN EASTERTIDE FESTIVITY--ON THE INNER CIRCLE _Guard._ "Where are you for?" _Old Gent._ "I'm oright--Edgware Road." _Guard._ "Well, mind you get out this time. You've been round three times!"] * * * * * RAILWAY SCALE OF MANNERS We have often been struck with the difference of manner assumed by railway officials towards different people. Shut your eyes, and you can tell from the tone of their voices whom they are addressing. The following examples will best illustrate our meaning. The railway potentate is calling upon the passengers to get their tickets ready. He calls: To the Third Class.--_Fortissimè._--"Tickets, tickets; come get your tickets ready." To the Second Class.--_Fortè._--"Tickets, gents; get your tickets ready, gents." To the First Class.--_Piano._--"Get your tickets ready, gentlemen, if you please; tickets ready, if you please, gentlemen." * * * * * [Illustration: THE H GRATUITOUS _Lady._ "Can I book through from here to Oban?" _Well-educated Clerk (correcting her)._ "Holborn, you mean. No; but you can book to Broad Street, and then take a 'bus!"] * * * * * EPITAPH ON A LOCOMOTIVE. _By the sole survivor of a deplorable accident (no blame to be attached to any servants of the company)_ Collisions four Or five she bore, The signals wor in vain; Grown old and rusted, Her biler busted, And smash'd the Excursion Train. "Her End Was Pieces." * * * * * EPITAPH FOR A RAILWAY DIRECTOR.--"His life was spent on pleasant lines." * * * * * [Illustration: MUDDLEBY JUNCTION _Overworked Pointsman (puzzled)._ "Let's see!--there's the 'scursion' were due at 4.45, and it ain't in; then, afore that, were the 'mineral,'--no! that must ha' been the 'goods,'--or the 'cattle.' No! that were after,--cattle's shunting now. Let's see!--fast train came through at----Con-found!--and here comes 'the express' afore its time, and blest if I know which line she's on!!"] * * * * * TEA IN TEN MINUTES (A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION) AIR--"_Thee, Thee, only Thee_" Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking, And longingly we've long been thinking Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! The marble slabs we gather round. They're long in bringing what is wanted, The china cup with draught em-brown'd, Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken! Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon. Tea, Tea, bring that Tea! At last! The infusion's rayther dark. But hurry up! Can't stay for ever! One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark! Will't never cool? Nay, never, never! Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! More milk; don't be an hour in bringing! Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing! "Take your seats, please!" Can't _touch_ the Tea! Cup to the carriage must not take; Crockery may be lost, or broken; Refreshment sharks are wide awake. But--many a naughty word is spoken O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES _Head Barmaid._ "These tarts are quite stale, Miss Hunt--been on the counter for a fortnight! _Would_ you mind taking them into the _second-class_ refreshment-room?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A LUSUS MACHINER--Æ _Chatty Passenger._ "Porter! That's one of those curious tailless Manx cats, is it not?" _Crusty Porter (shortly)._ "No, 'taint. Morn'g 'xpress!" _Passenger (puzzled)._ "E--h--I don't understand----" _Porter._ "Don't yer? Well, you come and put your toe on these 'ere down metals about 9.14 a.m. to-morrow, and----" _Passenger (enlightened)._ "Ah!--I see--jus' so----" [_Retires under cover of newspaper._ * * * * * RAILWAY COMPANIONS (_By a Disagreeable Traveller_) I. I have come to the conclusion that the railway train exercises a sinister influence upon the human race. Persons who are tolerable--or even welcome--in ordinary daily life, become peculiarly obnoxious so soon as they enter the compartment of a train. No fairy prince ever stepped into a railway train--assuming he favoured that means of locomotion--without being transformed straightway into a Beast, and even Beauty herself could not be distinguished from her disagreeable sisters--in a train. Speaking for myself, railway travelling invariably brings to the surface all my worst qualities. My neighbour opposite hazards some remark. I feel immediately a fit of taciturnity coming over me, and an overpowering inclination to retreat behind a fortification of journals and magazines. On the other hand, say that I have exhausted my stock of railway literature--or, no remote possibility, that the literature has exhausted me--then I make a casual remark about the weather. The weather is not usually considered a controversial topic: in railway trains, however, it becomes so. "Rain! not a bit," says a passenger in the far corner, evidently meditating a walking tour, and he views me suspiciously as if I were a rain-producer. "And a good thing too," remarks the man opposite. "It's wanted badly, I tell you, sir--very badly. It's all very well for you holiday folk," &c., &c. And all this bad feeling because of my harmless well-intentioned remark. The window is up. "Phew!... stuffy," says the man opposite. "You don't mind, I hope, the window--eh?" "Not in the least," I say, and conceive a deadly hatred for him. I know from experience that directly that window is down all the winds of heaven will conspire to rush through, bearing upon them a smoky pall. I resign myself, therefore, to possible bronchitis and inflammation of the eye. Schoolboys, I may remark by the way, are the worst window offenders, owing to their diabolical practice of looking out of window in a tunnel--and, of course, _nothing_ ever happens to them. What's the use of expostulating after the compartment is full of yellow, choking vapour. These boys should be leashed together like dogs and conveyed in the luggage-van. The window is down. "W-h-oop," coughs an elderly man. "Do you mind, sir, that window being closed?" Polite mendacity and inward bitterness on my part towards the individual who has converted the compartment into an oven. But there are worse companions even than these, of whom I must speak another time. II. I have known people thoughtlessly speak well of the luncheon-basket. In my opinion, the luncheon-basket arouses the worst passions of human nature, and is a direct incentive to deeds of violence. To say this is to cast an aspersion upon the refreshment contractor, who is evidently a man of touchingly simple faith and high imagination. Simple faith assuredly, for does he not provide on the principle that our insides are hardy and vigorous and unspoilt by the art of cooking? High imagination most certainly, otherwise he would never call that red fluid by the name of claret. No, it is to the social rather than to the gastronomic influence of the luncheon-basket that I wish to advert. Once I procured a luncheon-basket and with it came the demon of discontent and suspicion, converting three neutral people into deadly enemies. One was a pale young man who had been scowling over Browning and making frantic notes on the margin of the book. Personally, I don't think it quite decent for pale young men to improve their minds in a public conveyance--but at any rate he had seemed harmless. Now he raised his eyes and viewed me with undisguised contempt. "Wretched glutton," he said in effect, and when accidentally I burned my mouth with mustard (which a sudden swerve had sent meandering in a yellow stream across the chicken and ham), he gave a sneering, callous smile, which reminded me that a man may smile and smile and be a--railway companion. I verily believe that youth to be capable of any crime, even Extension lecturing. Then there was a young lady reading a sixpenny Braddon, who viewed me as if I were some monster; when I shut my eyes and gulped off some--er--claret, she brought biscuits and lemonade from a small bag and refreshed herself with ostentatious simplicity, as if to say, "Look upon _this_ picture and on the wine-bibbing epicurean in the corner." An old lady with her was more amply provided for (old ladies usually take more care of their insides than anyone else in creation), but although she munched sandwiches and washed them down with sherry (probably sweet, ugh!) luxuriously, she looked with pious horror at my plates and dishes spread out. I _might_ have said, "Madam, I eat frankly and openly; my resources may be viewed by all. Your secret and delusive bags have limitless resources that you are ashamed to show." I didn't say so; but the restraint placed on myself quite spoilt the lunch. No more baskets. * * * * * [Illustration: À FORTIORI _Ticket Collector._ "Now, then, make haste! Where's your ticket?" _Bandsman (refreshed)._ "Au've lost it!" _Ticket Collector._ "Nonsense! Feel in your pockets. Ye cannot hev lost it!" _Bandsman._ "Aw cannot? Why, man, au've lost the _big drum!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "JUST OUT!"--(AT ALL THE LIBRARIES) _First Young Lady._ "How did you like _Convict Life_, dear?" _Second Young Lady._ "Pretty well. We've just begun _Ten Years' Penal Servitude_. Some of us like it, but----" _Old Lady (mentally)._ "Good gracious! What dreadful creatures! So young, too!" [_Looks for the communicating cord!_] * * * * * [Illustration: RATHER SUSPICIOUS _First Passenger._ "Had pretty good sport?" _Second Passenger._ "No--very poor. Birds wild--rain in torrents--dogs no use. 'Only got fifty brace!" _First Passenger._ "'Make birds dear, won't it?" _Second Passenger ("off his guard")._ "You're right. I assure you I paid three-and-sixpence a brace all round at Norwich this morning!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FROM THE GENERAL TO THE PARTICULAR _Young Lady (who has never travelled by this line before)._ "Do you go to Kew Gardens?" _Booking-Clerk._ "Sometimes on a Sunday, miss, on a summer's afternoon!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW RACE IN AFRICA. Arrival of the Uganda express. (Twenty minutes ahead of time.)] * * * * * [Illustration: A LITTLE FARCE AT A RAILWAY STATION _Lady._ "I want one ticket--first!" _Clerk._ "Single?" _Lady._ "Single! What does it matter to you, sir, whether I'm single or not? Impertinence!" [_Clerk explains that he meant single or return, not t'other thing._] * * * * * [Illustration: TWO VIEWS OF IT _Brown._ "Shockin' thing! You heard of poor Mullins getting his neck broken in that collision!" _Jones._ "Ah!--it's as-tonishing how lucky some fellows are! He told me 'last time I saw him he'd just insured his life for three thous'd poun's!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INJURED INNOCENCE "Hulloa! _You've_ no call to be in here! _You_ haven't got a fust-class ticket, _I_ know." "No! I hain't!" "Well, come out! This ain't a third-class carriage!" "_Hain't_ it? Lor! Well I thought it _wos, by the look of the passingers!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Guard._ "Some one been smoking, I think?" _Passenger._ "What! Smoking! That's very reprehensible. Perhaps it was the clerical gentleman who has just got out of the next compartment."] * * * * * [Illustration: "NEM. CON.!" _Chatty Passenger (on G. W. Railway)._ "How plainly you can see the lights of Hanwell from the railway!" _Silent Man (in the corner)._ "Not half so plain as the lights of the train look from Hanwell!" [_All change at the next station._] * * * * * [Illustration: RECIPROCAL _Sporting Gentleman._ "Well, sir, I'm very pleased to have made your acquaintance, and had the opportunity of hearing a Churchman's views on the question of tithes. Of course, as a country landowner, I'm interested in Church matters, and----" _The Parson._ "Quite so--delighted, I'm sure. Er--by the bye, could you tell me _what's won to-day_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: RAILWAY LITERATURE _Bookstall Keeper._ "Book, ma'am? Yes, ma'am. Here's a popular work by an eminent surgeon, just published, 'Broken Legs: and How to Mend Them': or, would you like the last number of _The Railway Operator_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: SATISFACTORY _Bumptious Old Gent (in a directorial tone)._ "Ah, guard--what are we--ah--waiting for?" _Guard (with unconcern)._ "Waiting for the train to go on, sir!" [_Old Gent retires._] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNDERGROUND SELL _First Passenger._ "They say they've put on detectives 'ere, to catch coves as travels without tickets." _Second Passenger._ "'Ave they? Well, all I can say is, _I_ can travel as often as I like from Cannon Street to Victoria, and not pay a 'apenny!" _Detective._ "See here, mate; I'll give you half-a-crown if you tell me how you do it." _Second Passenger (after pocketing the half-crown)._ "Well,--when I wants to git from Cannon Street to Victoria without payin'--_I walks!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUITE UP TO DATE _Cousin Madge._ "Well, good-bye, Charlie. So many thanks for taking care of us!" _Charlie._ "_Not at all!_"] * * * * * VOCES POPULI II. ON THE PLATFORM _A Lady of Family._ Oh, yes, I do travel third-class sometimes, my dear. I consider it a duty to try to know something of the lower orders. [_Looks out for an empty third-class compartment._ EN ROUTE _The seats are now all occupied: the Lady of Family is in one corner, next to a Chatty Woman with a basket, and opposite to an Eccentric-looking Man with a flighty manner._ _The Eccentric Man (to the Lady of Family)._ Sorry to disturb you, mum, but you're a-setting on one o' my 'am sandwiches. _The L. of F._???!!! _The E. M. (considerately)._ Don't trouble yourself, mum, it's of no intrinsic value. I on'y put it there to keep my seat. _The Chatty W. (to the L. of F.)._ I think I've seen you about Shinglebeach, 'ave I not? _The L. of F._ It is very possible. I have been staying with some friends in the neighbourhood. _The C. W._ It's a nice cheerful place is Shinglebeach; but (_confidentially_) don't you think it's a very sing'ler thing that in a place like that--a fash'nable place, too--there shouldn't be a single 'am an' beef shop? _The L. of F. (making a desperate effort to throw herself into the question)._ What a very extraordinary thing, to be sure! Dear, _dear_ me! No ham and beef shop! _The C. W._ It's so indeed, mum; and what's more, as I dare say you've noticed for yourself, if you 'appen to want a snack o' fried fish ever so, there isn't a place you could go to--leastways, at a moment's notice. Now, 'ow do you explain such a thing as that? _The L. of F. (faintly)._ I'm afraid I can't suggest any explanation. _A Sententious Man._ Fried fish is very sustaining. [_Relapses into silence for the remainder of journey._ _The Eccentric Man._ Talking of sustaining, I remember, when we was kids, my father ud bring us home two pennorth o' ches'nuts, and we 'ad 'em boiled, and they'd last us days. (_Sentimentally._) He was a kind man, my father (_to the L. of F., who bows constrainedly_), though you wouldn't ha' thought it, to look at him. I don't say, mind yer, that he wasn't fond of his bit o' booze--(_the L. of F. looks out of window_)--like the best of us. I'm goin' up to prove his will now, I am--if you don't believe me, 'ere's the probate. (_Hands that document round for inspection._) That's all reg'lar enough, I 'ope. (_To the L. of F._) Don't give it back before you've done with it--I'm in no 'urry, and there's good reading in it. (_Points out certain favourite passages with a very dirty forefinger._) Begin there--_that's_ my name. [_The L. of F. peruses the will with as great a show of interest as she can bring herself to assume._ _The Eccentric Man._ D'ye see that big 'andsome building over there? That's the County Lunatic Asylum--where my poor wife is shut up. I went to see her last week, I did. (_Relates his visit in detail to the L. of F., who listens unwillingly._) It's wonderful how many of our family have been in that asylum from first to last. I 'ad a aunt who died cracky; and my old mother, she's very peculiar at times. There's days when I feel as if I was a little orf my own 'ed, so if I say anything at all out of the way, you'll know what it is. [_L. of F. changes carriages at the next station. In the second carriage are two Men of seafaring appearance, and a young Man who is parting from his Fiancée as the L. of F. takes her seat._ _The Fiancé._ Excuse me one moment, ma'am. (_Leans across the L. of F. and out of the window._) Well, goodbye, my girl; take care of yourself. _The Fiancée (with a hysterical giggle)._ Oh, I'll take care o' _my_ self. [_Looks at the roof of the carriage._ _He (with meaning)._ No more pickled onions, eh? _She._ What a one you are to remember things! (_After a pause._) Give my love to Joe. _He._ All right. Well, Jenny, just one, for the last (_they embrace loudly, after which the F. resumes his seat with an expression of mingled sentiment and complacency_). Oh, (_to L. of F._) if you don't mind my stepping across you again, mum. Jenny, if you see Dick between this and Friday, just tell him as---- [_Prolonged whispers; sounds of renewed kisses;_ _Final parting as train starts with a jerk which throws the Fiancé upon the L. of F.'s lap. After the train is started a gleam of peculiar significance is observable in the eyes of one of the Seafaring Men, who is reclining in an easy attitude on the seat. His companion responds with a grin of intelligence, and produces a large black bottle from the rack. They drink, and hand the bottle to the Fiancé._ _The F._ Thankee I don't mind if I do. Here's wishing you---- [_Remainder of sentiment drowned in sound of glug-glug-glug; is about to hand back bottle when the first Seafarer intimates that he is to pass it on. The L. of F. recoils in horror._ _Both Seafarers (reassuringly)._ It's _wine_, mum! [_Tableau. The Lady of Family realises that the study of third-class humanity has its drawbacks._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Our Artist (who has strolled into a London terminus)._ "What's the matter with all these people? Is there a panic?" _Porter._ "Panic! No, this ain't no panic. These is excursionists. Their train leaves in two hours, so they want to get a seat!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BRANCH STATION _Miss Tremmles (who is nervous about railways generally, and especially since the late outrages)._ "Oh, porter, put me into a carriage where there are ladies, or respectable people, or----" _Porter._ "Oh, you're all safe this mornin', miss; you're th' only passenger in the whol' tr'ine, except another old woman."] * * * * * [Illustration: A COOL CARD _Swell (handing "Sporting Life" to Clerical Party)._ "Aw--would you--aw--do me the favour to wead the list of the waces to me while we're wunning down?--I've--aw--forgotten my eyeglass. Don't mind waising your voice--I'm pwecious deaf!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THAT IT SHOULD COME TO THIS! _Boy._ "Second-class, sir?" _Captain._ "I nevah travel second-class!" _Boy._ "This way third, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ART! _Chatty Passenger._ "To show yer what cheats they are, sir, friend o' mine,--lots o' money, and fust-rate taste,--give the horder to one of 'em to decorate his new 'ouse in reg'lar slap-up style!--'spare no expense!--with all the finest 'chromios' that could be 'ad! You know what lovely things they are, sir! Well, sir, would you believe it!--after they was sent, they turned out not to be 'chromios' at all!--but done by 'and!"--(_with withering contempt_)--"done by 'and, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PERMISSIVE SLAUGHTER (_Five Thousand Shunting Accidents in Five Years!_) _First Shunter (with coupling-link, awaiting engine backing)._ "I saw poor Jack's wife and kids last night, after the funeral. Poor things, what will be done for 'em?" _Second Shunter (at points)._ "Oh, the usual thing, I s'ppose--company's blessin', and a charity mangle!----Look out, mate! She's backin'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BEHIND TIME _Ticket Collector._ "This your boy, mum? He's too big for a 'alf ticket!" _Mother (down upon him)._ "Oh, is he? Well, p'rhaps he is now, mister; but he wasn't when we started. This 'xcursion's ever so many hours be'ind time, an' he's a growin' lad! So now!" [_Exit in triumph._] * * * * * [Illustration: "FORCE OF HABIT" _Our Railway Porter (the first time he acted as deputy in the absence of the beadle)._ "T'kets r'dy! All tick-ets ready!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHY TAKE A CHILL? If your train is not heated by pipes, get plenty of foot-warmers, as Algy and Betty did. Sit on one, put your feet on another, a couple at your back, and one on your lap, and you'll get to your destination as they did--warm as muffins!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Railway Porter._ "Now then, sir! by your leave!"] * * * * * IN THE HOT WEATHER TOO! DRAMATIS PERSONÆ A Choleric Old Gentleman. A Cool Young Party. SCENE.--A Richmond Railway Carriage. TIME.--About 12 noon. _Choleric Old Gentleman (panting, puffing, perspiring)._ Hot, sir, tremendously hot. _Cool Young Party._ It is warm. _C. O. G._ Warm, sir! I call it blazing hot. Why the glass is 98° in the shade! _C. Y. P._ Really! is that much? _C. O. G._ Much, sir! Immense! _C. Y. P._ Well, then, the glass is perfectly right. _C. O. G._ Right, sir! I don't understand you, sir. What do you mean by saying it is right, sir? _C. Y. P._ I mean that the glass is quite right to be as much in the shade as it can in this warm weather. [_Choleric Old Gentleman collapses._ * * * * * [Illustration: QUITE UNIMPORTANT. _Thompson (interrogatively, to beauteous but haughty damsel, whom he has just helped to alight)._ "I beg your pardon?" _Haughty Damsel._ "I did not speak!" _Thompson._ "Oh--I thought you said 'Thanks'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID "I'm afraid we shan't have this compartment to ourselves any longer, Janet." "Oh, it's all right, aunty darling. If you put your head out of window, I dare say nobody will come in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SCENE AT A RAILWAY STATION _Groom._ "Beg pardon, sir,--but wos your name Tomkins?" _Tomkins._ "Yes!" _Groom._ "If you please, sir, master says he wos werry sorry as he couldn't send the feeaton--but, as his young 'oss wanted exercise, he thought you wouldn't mind ridin' of 'im!" [_Tomkins bursts into a cold perspiration._] * * * * * SUBURBAN HOSPITALITY. SCENE--_A mile and a half to the railway station, on a bitter winter's night._ _Genial Host (putting his head out of doors)._ Heavens! what a night! Not fit to turn a dog out! (_To the parting guest._) Well, good-night, old chap. I hope you find your way to the station. * * * * * [Illustration: A LUXURIOUS HABIT _Philanthropist (to railway porter)._ "Then what time do you get to bed?" _Porter._ "Well, I seldom what yer may call gets to bed myself, 'cause o' the night trains. But my brother, as used to work the p'ints further down the line, went to bed last Christmas after the accident, and never----" [_Train rushes in, and the parties rush off._] * * * * * HARD LINES ON INDIVIDUALS.--The compulsory purchase of land by a railway company is insult added to injury. The buyers take a site in the seller's face. * * * * * "THE ROLL OF THE AGES."--The penny roll at railway refreshment-rooms. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE OTHER WAY ABOUT" _Irate Passenger (as train is moving off)._ "Why the ---- didn't you put my luggage in as I told you--you old ----" _Porter._ "E--h, man! yer baggage es na sic a fule as yersel. Ye're i' the wrang train!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Railway Porter._ "Dogs not allowed inside the carriages, sir!" _Countryman._ "What not a little tooy tarrier? Wall, thee'd better tak' un oot then, young man!"] * * * * * THE PORTER'S SLAM [A meeting at Manchester raised a protest against the nuisance caused by the needlessly loud "slamming" of railway carriage doors.] The porter has a patent "slam," Which smites one like a blow, And everywhere that porter comes That "slam" is sure to go. It strikes upon the tym-pa-num Like shock of dynamite; By day it nearly makes you dumb-- It deafens you at night. When startled by the patent "slam" The pious "pas-sen-jare," Says something else that ends in "am" (Or he has patience rare). Not only does it cause a shock, But--Manchester remarks-- "Depreciates the rolling stock," Well, that is rather larks! _That's_ not the point. The porter's slam Conduces to insanity, And, though as mild as Mary's lamb, Drives men to loud profanity. If Manchester the "slam" can stay By raising of a stir, All railway-travellers will say, "Bully for Man-ches-ter!" * * * * * [Illustration: MANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849 A raylway statyon. Showynge ye travellers refreshynge themselves.] MR. PIPS HIS DIARY _Tuesday, July 31, 1849._--Prevailed upon by my wife to carry her to Bath, as she said, to go see her aunt Dorothy, but I know she looked more to the pleasure of her trip than any thing else; nevertheless I do think it necessary policy to keep in with her aunt, who is an old maid and hath a pretty fortune; and to see what court and attention I pay her though I do not care 2_d._ about her! But am mightily troubled to know whether she hath sunk her money in an annuity, which makes me somewhat uneasy at the charge of our journey, for what with fare, cab-hire, and vails to Dorothy's servants for their good word, it did cost me altogether _£_6 2_s._ 6_d._ To the Great Western station in a cab, by reason of our luggage; for my wife must needs take so many trunks and bandboxes, as is always the way with women: or else we might have gone there for 2_s._ 6_d._ less in an omnibus. Did take our places in the first class notwithstanding the expense, preferring both the seats and the company; and also because if any necks or limbs are broken I note it is generally in the second and third classes. So we settled, and the carriage-doors slammed to, and the bell rung, the train with a whistle off like a shot, and in the carriage with me and my wife a mighty pretty lady, a Frenchwoman, and I did begin to talk French with her, which my wife do not well understand, and by and by did find the air too much for her where she was sitting, and would come and take her seat between us, I know, on purpose. So fell a reading the _Times_, till one got in at Hanwell, who seemed to be a physician, and mighty pretty discourse with him touching the manner of treating madmen and lunatics, which is now by gentle management, and is a great improvement on the old plan of chains and the whip. Also of the foulness of London for want of fit drainage, and how it do breed cholera and typhus, as sure as rotten cheese do mites, and of the horrid folly of making a great gutter of the river. So to Swindon station, where the train do stop ten minutes for refreshment, and there my wife hungry, and I too with a good appetite, notwithstanding the discourse about London filth. So we out, and to the refreshment-room with a crowd of passengers, all pushing, and jostling, and trampling on each others' toes, striving which should get served first. With much ado got a basin of soup for my wife, and for myself a veal and ham pie, and to see me looking at my watch and taking a mouthful by turns; and how I did gulp a glass of Guinness his stout! Before we had half finished, the guard rang the bell, and my wife with a start, did spill her soup over her dress, and was obliged to leave half of it; and to think how ridiculous I looked, scampering back to the train with my meat-pie in my mouth! To run hurry-skurry at the sound of a bell, do seem only fit for a gang of workmen; and the bustle of railways do destroy all the dignity of travelling; but the world altogether is less grand, and do go faster than formerly. Off again, and to the end of our journey, troubled at the soup on my wife's dress, but thankful I had got my change, and not left it behind me at the Swindon station. * * * * * [Illustration: NARCISSUS _Little Podgers (who considers himself rather a lady-killer)._ "Oh, I'm not going into that empty carriage; put me into one with some pretty gals." Porter. "You jump in, sir, and put yer 'ead out of the winder, you'll soon have a carriage-full." [Podgers sees it immediately, and enters.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lionel (to his rich uncle's coachman, who has driven him over to the station)._ "And look here, Sawyer, give the governor this accidental insurance ticket with my love. I haven't forgotten him, and if anything happens to me, there's a thousand pounds for him!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON" _Guest._ "It's very kind of you to----" _Hosts._ "Oh, we should not have felt comfortable unless we'd come with you, and--seen the last of you----!!"] * * * * * SMALL POTATOES.--_Q._ Why are regular travellers by the Shepherd's Bush and City Railway like certain vegetables? _A._ Because they're "Tubers." * * * * * [Illustration: INOPPORTUNE _Newsboy (to irritable old gent who has just lost his train)._ "Buy a comic paper, sir?" [_Luckily, the old gentleman was out of breath from his hurry._] * * * * * THE TYMPANUM (_A Remonstrance at a Railway Station_) The tympanum! The tympanum! Oh! who will save the aural drum By softening to some gentler squeak The whistle's shrill _staccato_ shriek? Oh! Engine-driver, did you know How your blast smites one like a blow, An inward shock, a racking strain, A knife-like thrust of poignant pain, Whilst groping through the tunnel murk You would not with that fiendish jerk Let out that _sudden_ blast of steam Whose screaming almost makes _us_ scream Thy whistle weird perchance may be A sad and sore necessity, But cannot Law and sense combine To--well, in short to draw the line?-- Across the open let it shrill From moor to moor, from hill to hill, But in the tunnel's crypt-like gloom, The station's cramped reverberant room, A gentler, _graduated_ blast! _Do_ let it loose, whilst dashing past, So shall it spare us many a pang; That dread explosive bursting "bang" Which nearly splits the aural drum, The poor long-suffering tympanum! * * * * * [Illustration: "THE BLOCK SYSTEM" _Affable Old Lady (to ticket clerk--morning express just due)._ "No, I'm not going up this morning, but one of your penny time-tables, if you please; and can you tell me"--(_Shouts from the crowd_, "Now then, mum!")--"if the 10.45 stops at Dribblethorp Junction, and if Shandry's 'bus meets the trains, which it always does on market days, I know, 'cause my married sister's cousin, as is a farmer, generally goes by it. But if it don't come o' Toosday as well as Wednesday, I shall have to get out at Shuntbury and take a fly, which runs into money, you know, when you're by yourself like. If you'll be good enough to look out the trains--and change for half a sovereign, if you please. Oh no, I'm in no hurry, as I ain't a goin' till next week. Fine morn----" [_Bell rings. Position stormed._] * * * * * WONDERS OF MODERN TRAVEL Wonder whether accidents will be as numerous as usual during this excursion season. Wonder if a train, conveying third-class passengers, was ever known to start without somebody or other exclaiming, "_Now_ we're off!" Wonder why it is that foreigners in general, and fat Germans in particular, always will persist in smoking with the windows shut. Wonder whether anybody was ever known to bellow out the name of any station in such a manner that a stranger could succeed in understanding him. Wonder whether it is cheaper to pay for broken bones, or for such increase of service as, in very many cases, might prevent their being broken. Wonder how a signalman can by any means contrive to keep a cool head on his shoulders, while working as one sees him in a signal-box of glass, and the temperature of the tropics. Wonder if upon an average there are three men in a thousand who have never been puzzled by the hieroglyphics in _Bradshaw_. Wonder whether any railway guard or porter has ever been detected in the very act of virtuously declining to accept a proffered tip, on the ground that money, by the bye-laws, is forbidden to be taken by servants of the company. Wonder how many odd coppers the boys who sell the newspapers pocket in a week by the benevolence of passengers. Wonder what diminution there would be in the frequency of accidents, supposing directors were made purse-onally liable. Wonder whether people take to living at Redhill because it is so redhilly accessible by railway. TO THE STATION. Wonder if my watch is right, or slow, or fast. Wonder if that church clock is right. Wonder if the cabman will take eighteenpence from my house to the station. THE STATION. Wonder if the porter understood what I said to him about the luggage. Wonder if I shall see him again. Wonder if I shall know him when I _do_ see him again. Wonder if I gave my writing-case to the porter or left it in the cab. Wonder where I take my ticket. Wonder in which pocket I put my gold. Wonder where I got that bad half-crown which the clerk won't take. Wonder if that's another that I've just put down. Wonder where the porter is who took my luggage. Wonder where my luggage is. Wonder again whether I gave my writing-case to the porter, or left it in the cab. Wonder which is my train. Wonder if the guard knows anything about that porter with the writing-case. Wonder if it _will_ be "all right" as the guard says it will be. Wonder if my luggage, being now labelled, will be put into the proper van. Wonder if I've got time to get a sandwich and a glass of sherry. Wonder if they've got the _Times_ of the day before yesterday, which I haven't seen. Wonder if _Punch_ of this week is out yet. Wonder why they don't keep nice sandwiches and sherry. Wonder if there's time for a cup of coffee instead. Wonder if that's our bell for starting. Wonder which is the carriage where I left my rug and umbrella, so as to know it again. Wonder where the guard is to whom I gave a shilling to keep a carriage for me. Wonder why he didn't keep it; by "it," I mean the carriage. Wonder where they've put my luggage. THE JOURNEY. Wonder if my change is all right. Wonder for the second time in which pocket I put my gold. Wonder if I gave the cabman a sovereign for a shilling. Wonder if that was the reason why he grumbled less than usual and drove off rapidly. Wonder if any one objects to smoking. Wonder that nobody does. Wonder where I put my lights. Wonder whether I put them in my writing-case. Wonder for the third time whether I gave my writing-case to the porter or left it in the cab. Wonder if anybody in the carriage has got any lights. Wonder that nobody has. Wonder when we can get some. Wonder if there's anything in the paper. Wonder why they don't cut it. Wonder if I put my knife in my writing-case. Wonder for the fourth time whether I gave, &c. Wonder if I can cut the paper with my ticket. Wonder where I put my ticket. Wonder where I _could_ have put my ticket. Wonder where the deuce I put my ticket. Wonder how I came to put my ticket in my right-hand waistcoat pocket. Wonder if I can read by this lamp-light in the tunnel. Wonder (to myself) why they don't light the carriages in a better way. Wonder (to my fellow-passengers) that the company don't provide better lights for their carriages. Fellow-passengers say they wonder at that, too. We all wonder. Wonder what makes the carriages wiggle-waggle about so. Wonder if we're going off the line. Wonder what station we stop at first. Wonder if there will be a refreshment-room there. Wonder (for the fifth time) whether I gave my writing-case to the porter, or left it in the cab. Wonder if I left the key of my writing-case in the lock. Wonder what the deuce I shall do if I've lost it. FIRST STATION. Wonder if this is Tringham or Upper Tringham. Wonder if it's Tringham Junction. Wonder if we change here for Stonnhurst. Wonder if any one understands what the guard says. Wonder if any one understands what the porter says. Wonder where the refreshment-room is. Wonder if I run across eight lines of rail, and over two platforms, to where I see the refreshment-room is, whether I shall ever be able to get back to my own carriage. Wonder (while I am crossing) whether any of the eight trains, on any of the eight lines, will come in suddenly. REFRESHMENT-ROOM. Wonder what's the best thing to take. Wonder whether soup's a good thing. Wonder whether the waiter heard me ask for soup, because I've changed my mind, and will have some tea. Wonder if the young lady at the counter knows that I've asked for tea, twice. Wonder if those buns are stale. Wonder if tea goes well with buns. Wonder what _does_ go with buns. Wonder, having begun on buns, whether it wouldn't have been better to ask for sherry. Wonder if this tea will ever be cool. Wonder if that's our bell for starting. Wonder if the young lady at the counter is deceiving me when she says I've got exactly a minute and a half. Wonder if anybody's looking at me while I put my tea in the saucer. Wonder if that _is_ our bell. Wonder if I shall have time to get back to my carriage. Wonder how much tea and buns come to. Wonder where I put my small change. Wonder, having nothing under half-a-crown, if I could get off without paying. Wonder they don't keep change ready. Wonder as I'm recrossing the lines whether any train will come in suddenly. THE PLATFORM. Wonder which is my carriage. Wonder (to guard familiarly) why they don't provide better lights for the carriages. Guard says, he wonders at that, too. Every one seems to wonder at that. Wonder (to guard again) if I can get a hot-water bottle for my feet anywhere. Guard wonders they don't keep 'em. Wonder (to guard once more) if I've time to go across the line, get my change out of the half-crown for buns and tea, and return to my carriage. Wonder if the guard is right in saying that we shall start directly. Wonder I forgot to ask the guard all about my luggage. THE CARRIAGE. Wonder, being safely in my seat, that there are not more accidents from people crossing the rails in a large station. Wonder why there's not a refreshment-room on either side. Wonder why they always come for your tickets after you've made yourself comfortable. Wonder where the dickens I put my ticket. Wonder, supposing I can't find it, whether the man will believe I ever had one. Wonder, on this matter being settled satisfactorily, which is the best pocket for keeping tickets in. Wonder why they can't shut the carriage-doors without banging them. THE JOURNEY (CONTINUED). Wonder if anybody thought of getting any lights. Wonder if I should have had time to cross over to the refreshment-room and get the change out of my half-crown. Wonder (to my opposite neighbour) what county we're passing through. He wonders, too. We both look out of our own side windows, and go on wondering. Wonder if that protracted shrill steam-whistle means danger. Opposite neighbour wonders if it does. Wonder why we're stopping; 'tisn't a station. Wonder what's the matter. Wonder what it is. Wonder what it _can_ be. Wonder if it's dangerous to put one's head out of window. Wonder if the engine has broken down. Wonder if there's anything on the line. Wonder if the express is behind us. Wonder if that man on the line is making a danger signal. Wonder (as we are moving again) what it was. Wonder passengers can't have some direct means of communicating with a guard. Wonder how long we shall be before we get to Stonnhurst. THE JOURNEY (CONCLUDED). Wonder if that's my portmanteau that that elderly gentleman is taking away with him. Wonder if they'll send to meet me at the station. Wonder (if they don't send) whether there's a fly or an omnibus. Wonder where their house is. Wonder if the station-master knows where their house is. Wonder what a fly will charge. Wonder what I shall do if they don't send, and there isn't a fly or an omnibus. Wonder what time they dine. Wonder if I shall have time to write a letter before dinner. Wonder, for the sixth time, whether I gave my writing-case to the guard, or left it in the cab. Wonder if I _did_ leave it in the cab. Wonder if this is where I get out. SMALL STATION. Wonder if the guard is right in saying that, as I'm going to Redditon, it doesn't matter whether I get out at the next station, Stonnhurst, or Morley Vale, the next but one. Wonder for which place my luggage was labelled. Wonder whether after getting out at Stonnhurst I shall have to go back for my luggage to Morley Vale. Wonder if I do right in deciding upon getting out at Stonnhurst. STONNHURST. Wonder if my luggage has gone on to Morley Vale. Wonder if I left my umbrella in the carriage, or forgot to bring it. Wonder how far it is from Stonnhurst to Morley Vale. Wonder if they've sent a trap to meet me at Morley Vale. Wonder why, when people invite one to come down to some out-of-the-way place, they don't tell one all these difficulties in their letter. Wonder if they'll have sense enough to drive to Stonnhurst from Morley Vale. Wonder if I shall meet them on the road if I walk there. Wonder which _is_ the road. Wonder, in answer to demand at the station-door, where I put my ticket. Wonder if I dropped it in the carriage. Wonder what I can have done with it. Wonder if I put it into the side pocket of my overcoat when I took out my lights. Wonder where the deuce my overcoat is. * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_Chancery Lane "Tube" Station._ _First Lift Man._ "A good time comin' for me, mate. What O, for a bit of a chinge!" _Second Lift Man._ "What's up, then?" _First Lift Man (in impressive tones)._ "Got shifted to the _Bank_--beginnin' Monday!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FOND DELUSION _First Tourist (going north)._ "Hullo, Tompk----" _Second Ditto (ditto, ditto)._ "Hsh----sh! Confound it, you'll spoil all. They think in the train I'm a Highland chief!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FOR LADIES ONLY "RESERVED CARRIAGES." (_See "Day by Day" in "Daily News"_) "If you travel in one, you run greater risks than in travelling in the ordinary carriages. I have known railway officials allow men to jump into them at the last moment before the train starts, with a mutual wink at each other and a very objectionable grin."] * * * * * [Illustration: A DISENCHANTMENT _Northern Croesus._ "Oh! I'm so glad to meet you here, Mr. Vandyke Brown. The fact is, I've a _commission_ for you!" _Our Youthful Landscape Painter (dissembling his rapture)._ "All right--most happy--what is it to be?" _Northern Croesus._ "Well--my aged grandmother is going to London by this train--and I want to put her under your protection." [_Our Youthful Landscape Painter dissembles again._] * * * * * [Illustration: PATENT FIRST-CLASS COSTUME FOR THE COLLISION SEASON _Traveller._ "Yes, it's decidedly warm, but there's a feeling of security about it I rather like." (_Yawns._) "Any chance of a smash to-day!?" [_Drops off to sleep!_] * * * * * [Illustration: JUDGING BY APPEARANCES _Undersized Youth._ "Now then, first return, Surbiton, and look sharp! How much?" _Clerk._ "Three shillings. Half-price under twelve!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COLD COMFORT _Traveller (waiting for train already twenty minutes late)._ "Porter, when do you expect that train to come in?" _Porter._ "Can't say, sir. But the longer you waits for it, the more sure 'tis to come in the next minute."] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE NURSERY SALOON ON THE RAILWAY" OUR ARTIST'S NOTION OF WHAT WE MAY EXPECT IF THE SUGGESTION WERE ADOPTED The saloon is Patent swing Rattles can Efficient nurse The saloon fitted with sleeping cradles be obtained guards, to look is fitted refreshment can be secured at most of after the with amusing bar, replete by wire or the large babies, travel toys, to with all baby letter. stations. by all trains. beguile delicacies. the tedium of long journeys.] * * * * * [Illustration: RAILWAY PUZZLE To find the name of the station.] * * * * * [Illustration: VICARIOUS! (_On the Underground Railway_) _Irascible Old Gentleman (who is just a second too late)._ "Confound and D----!" _Fair Stranger (who feels the same, but dare not express it)._ "Oh, thank you, _so_ much!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNDERGROUND RAILWAY _Old Lady._ "Well, I'm sure no woman with the least sense of decency would think of going down _that_ way to it."] * * * * * [Illustration: REGULAR IRREGULARITY _Passenger (in a hurry)._ "Is this train punctual?" _Porter._ "Yessir, generally a quarter of an hour late to a minute!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Perspiring Countryman (who has just, with the utmost difficulty, succeeded in catching train)._ "Phew! Just saved it by t'skin o' my _teeth_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "'TIS BETTER NOT TO KNOW" _Impudent Boy (generally)._ "Try yer weight--only a penny!" (_To lady of commanding proportions in particular._) "'Tell yer 'xact weight to a hounce, mum!"] * * * * * [Illustration: APPALLING DISCLOSURES OVERHEARD BY AN OLD LADY IN THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN TWO RUFFIANS IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE. _First Artist._ "Children don't seem to me to sell now as they used." _Second Artist (in a hoarse whisper)._ "Well, I was at Stodge's yesterday. He'd just knocked off three little girls' heads--horrid raw things--a dealer came in, sir--bought 'em directly--took 'em away, wet as they were, on the stretchers, and wanted Stodge to let him have some more next week."] * * * * * [Illustration: NECESSITIES OF LIFE "Yes, my lady. James went this morning with the hunters, and I've sent on the heavy luggage with Charles. But I've got your pencil-case, the bicycle, your ladyship's golf clubs and hunting crop and billiard cue, the lawn tennis racket, the bezique cards and markers, your ladyship's betting book and racing glasses and skates and walking-stick--and if I've forgotten anything I can easily wire back for it from the first station we stop at."] * * * * * [Illustration: A STRIKING ATTITUDE Patience on a trunk waiting for a cab] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RAILWAY JUGGERNAUT OF 1845] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER A DERBY-WINNER-DINNER _Diner._ "Ticket." _Clerk._ "What station?" _Diner._ "Wha-stashun ve-you-got?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM" _Mr. Foozler (who, while waiting for the last train, has wandered to the end of the platform, opened the door of the signal-box, and watched the signalman's manipulations of the levers for some moments with hazy perplexity, suddenly)._ "Arf o' Burt'n 'n birrer f' me, guv'nor!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Third-class single to Ruswarp, please, and a dog ticket. How much?" "Fourpence-halfpenny--threepence for the dog, and three-halfpence for yourself." "Ah! you reckon by _legs_ on this line."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE QUESTION SETTLED _Mrs. M-l-pr-p._ "The fact is, my love, that these terrible collusions would never occur if the trains was only more punctilious!"] * * * * * A NEEDLESS PANIC.--Mrs. Malaprop is puzzled to know what people mean when they talk of the present alarming Junction of affairs. She hopes it has nothing to do with the railways, in which she has some Deference shares. * * * * * THOUGHT BY A RAILWAY DIRECTOR.--Britannia used to rule the waves. She now rules the land--with lines. * * * * * [Illustration: THE OLD HALL] (_A Story of Delusive Aspirations_) 1. Jones was a tuft-hunter. One day, in a train, he encountered an elderly gentleman who aroused great interest in his bosom. "Porter," said that elderly gentleman, "'ave you seen my old hall?" "Got an old hall!" murmured Jones to himself. "Rich man--probably duke! Should like to cultivate him!" 2. The stranger was affable. "Did you ever 'ave an old hall?" he said. "Why--er--n-no," said Jones. "Very convenient thing to 'ave," said the stranger. "I've got all manner o' things in my old hall." "Ah--armour, and ancestors, and tapestry, and secret doors, no doubt," thought Jones to himself. 3. "You must see my old hall," said the stranger. "I'll show you all the ins and outs of it. I can put you up----" "Really very good of you!" exclaimed Jones. "Shall be delighted to accept----" "Put you up to no hend of wrinkles about old halls," continued the stranger. 4. They alighted at the terminus. "There--there's my old hall! Hain't it a beauty?" said the stranger. Jones sank slowly to the earth, without a groan. That ungrammatical stranger's vaunted possession was a hold-all. * * * * * RULES FOR THE RAIL A REMINISCENCE OF THE BAD OLD DAYS The President of the Board of Trade having sent a circular to the railway companies with reference to making provisions for the prevention of accidents and the enforcement of punctuality, especially in connection with the running of excursion trains at this period of the year, the following regulations will probably come under consideration. 1. In future one line will be kept (when feasible) for up trains, whilst the other is reserved for the use of down-trains. This rule will not apply to luggage and mineral trains, and trains inaccurately shunted on to lines on which they (the trains) have no right to travel. 2. Station-masters should never permit a train to start more than forty minutes late, except when very busy with the company's accounts. 3. As complaints have been made that signalmen are overworked, these officers in future will occupy their boxes during the morning only. During the rest of the day the boxes will be closed. That the public may suffer no inconvenience by this arrangement, the trains will continue running by day and by night as heretofore. 4. A pointsman will be expected to notice all signals and to obey them. He will be required, before leaving his post (when on duty), to order one of his children to look after the points during his absence. The child he selects for this office should be at least three years old. 5. The driver and stoker in charge of an engine should never sleep at the same time unless they have taken proper precautions beforehand to prevent an excessive consumption of the company's fuel. 6. When a luggage train is loading or unloading beside the platform of a station, it will be desirable to recollect the time at which an express is due, as unnecessary collisions cause much damage to the rolling stock, and not unfrequently grave inconvenience to first-class passengers. 7. The _débris_ of a train should be removed from the rails before an express is permitted to enter the tunnel in which an accident has taken place. As non-compliance with this rule is likely to cause much delay to the traffic, it should be obeyed when feasible. 8. As guards of excursion trains have been proved to be useless, their places will in future be filled by surgeons. Passengers are particularly requested to give no fees to the surgeons accompanying these trains, as the salaries of these officials will be provided for in the prices charged to the public for excursion tickets. 9. In future, contracts from surgeons and chemists will be accepted on the same terms as those already received from refreshment caterers. 10. The public having frequently experienced inconvenience in having to leave the station when requiring medical attention, in future the waiting-rooms of the third-class passengers will be converted into surgeries for first-class passengers. As these saloons will be fitted with all the latest inventions in surgical instruments, a small extra charge will be made to passengers using them. 11. The directors (in conclusion) fully recognising the responsibility conferred upon them by the shareholders, if not by the public, will expel from their body in future (as a person evidently of unsound mind) any director convicted of travelling by any railway. * * * * * [Illustration: ABOLITION OF SECOND-CLASS CARRIAGES "Are there any second-class carriages on this line, Rogers?" "No, my lord." "Ah! then take two first-class tickets, and two third." "Beg pardon, my lord! But is me and Mrs. Parker expected to go third class?" "Gracious heavens! No, Rogers! not for the world! The third-class tickets are for my lady and me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: The old lady is supposed (after a great effort) to have made up her mind to travel, just for once, by one "of those new fangled railways," and the first thing she beholds on arriving at the station, is the above most alarming placard.] * * * * * [Illustration: "TIME BY THE FORELOCK"! _Dodger._ "Hullo, how are you! Can't stop, though, or I shan't miss my train!" _Codger._ "Catch it, you mean." _Dodger._ "No, I don't. I always used to miss my right train, so now I always miss the one before it, and get home in time for dinner! Ta, ta!"] * * * * * [Illustration: APRIL 1 _Mamma._ "Oh, I am so glad to meet you, professor. You _know everything_. Do tell me what time the train that stops nowhere starts." [_For once the professor is not ready._] * * * * * [Illustration: UNNECESSARY REMARKS "What! Have you missed it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "OVERCAST" They were out for a day in the country--were late at the station--he left it to her to take the tickets--a horrid crowd--frightfully hot--and she was hustled and flustered considerably when she reached the carriage. _He (cool and comfortable)._ "How charming the yellow gorse----" _She (in a withering tone)._ "You didn't 'xpect to see it blue, I s'ppose!" [_Tacet!_] * * * * * [Illustration: A DELIGHTFUL REMINISCENCE OF THE BOAT-RACE _Sweep (to a carriage full of light blue ribbons)._ "Won't yer make room for a little 'un, ladies and gents? I'm for the Cambridge lot!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRIVILEGES OF HIGH RANK _Railway Gatesman._ "It's agin the rules, my lady, openin' o' the gate like this; but it ain't for the likes o' me to keep yer _ladyship_ a waitin'." _Noble Countess._ "Why is it against the rules, my good man?" _Railway Gatesman._ "Well, my lady, the 5.17 down express has been doo these ten minutes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE NEWS" _Season-Ticket Holder (airily)._ "'Morning, station-master. Anything fresh?" _Station-Master ("bit of a wag")._ "N-no, sir, not that I've---- ah!--yes--now I think of it, sir--that's fresh paint you're leaning agai----!" [_Violent pas seul, with language to match._] * * * * * BLACKFRIARS TO SLOANE SQUARE The man who got in at Blackfriars Was smoking the foulest of briars, But it went out all right-- Could I give him a light?-- Hadn't got one--well, all men are liars. I've frequently noticed the Temple Is a place there are not enough rhymes to; And that's why I've made This verse somewhat blank, And rather disregarded the metre. How _do_ you pronounce Charing Cross? It's a point where I'm quite at a loss. Some people, of course, Would rhyme it with "horse," But I always rhyme it with "hoss." A woman at Westminster Bridge Had got just a speck on the ridge Of her Romanesque nose. "It's a black, I suppose," She observed. Then it flew--'twas a midge. One man from the Park of St. James, Had really the loftiest aims; In the hat-rack he sat, Used my hair as a mat, And when I demurred called me names. I bought from the stall at Victoria A horrible sixpenny story, a Book of a kind It pained me to find For sale at our English emporia. I found when I got to Sloane Square That my ticket was gone; my despair Was awful to see, Till at last to my glee I looked in my hat--it was there! * * * * * [Illustration: A REAL GRIEVANCE _Porter at Junction._ "Phew! All this luggage registered in advance and not a bloomin' tip do I get for handling it."] * * * * * [Illustration: SO LIKELY! SCENE--_Bar of a railway refreshment-room._ _Barmaid._ "Tea, sir?" _Mr. Boozy._ "Tea!!! ME!!!!"] * * * * * AS SHYLOCK SAID.--_Railway shareholder, with shares at a discount._ "Give me my principal, and let me go." * * * * * [Illustration: A SPEEDY RETRIBUTION _Small Boy._ "'Arf ticket ter Baker Street." [_Pays, and awaits delivery of ticket_ _Clerk._ "It's a shameful thing, a kid like you smoking!" _Small Boy (indignantly)._ "Who are yer callin' a kid? I'm fourteen!" _Clerk._ "Oh, are you? Then you pay full fare to Baker Street!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A HINT TO RAILWAY TRAVELLERS By breathing on the glass--and holding a speaking doll by way of baby to the window--you may generally keep your compartment select.] * * * * * SOMEBODY'S LUGGAGE If you see half-a-dozen new patent leather covered basket-trunks with a name written upon all of them, in staring white characters, accompanied by a gigantic portmanteau and three hat-boxes, you may know that the Honourable Lionel and Rowena Silverspoon have started on their wedding-tour. If you see a weather-beaten portmanteau, accompanied by a neat little trunk and a pretty little birdcage, you may know that Edwin and Angelina Dovecot are going to Ventnor for the honeymoon. If you see a big carpet-bag, accompanied by a large white umbrella and a tin colour-box, you may know that Daub, A. R. A., is going to Brittany in search of subjects. If you see an overcrowded portmanteau, accompanied by a double-locked despatch-box, you may know that urgent private affairs have induced Captain Bubble (Promoter of Public Companies) to leave the City hurriedly for Spain. If you see a small bundle, accompanied by a pair of handcuffs, you may know that urgent public affairs have induced Sergeant Smart (of the Detective Police) to follow the same _route_ taken by Captain Bubble _en voyage_ for Spain. If you see twenty-four patent reversible extra waterproof holdalls, with all the latest improvements, painted blue, green, yellow, and red, and covered with hotel labels, accompanied by thirty-seven deal packing cases, you may know that Colonel Jerusalem R. X. E. Squash, U.S.A., and family are engaged in "doing" Europe. If you see fifteen trunks, all more or less damaged, accompanied by an old portmanteau and a double perambulator, you may know that Mr. and Mrs. Paterfamilias and children are going to Herne Bay for a month. If you see, in conclusion, a neat knapsack and a spiked walking-stick, you may know that _Mr. Punch_ is off to Switzerland to enjoy himself. * * * * * [Illustration: ADJUSTMENT _Our Station-Master (to old Jinks, whom he had kindly provided with a foot-warmer on a journey down the line to see his sick daughter)._ "Well, did you find the benefit of it, Master Jinks?" _Old Jinks._ "Oh, aye, thankee, Mr. Green! Tha' there box o' hot water tha' wor uncommon' comfor'able, sure-ly! I sat on 'm the whol' o' the way, an' tha' did warm me up to-rights, I can tell 'ee!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Passenger._ "Well, you say you've put all my luggage safe, what are you waiting for?--I thought you were forbidden to take money!" _Porter._ "So we is, sir. We never 'takes' it--it's 'given to us!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LIMITED MALE.] * * * * * SONG FOR ENGINE-DRIVERS BEFORE A COLLISION.--"Whistle--and I'll come to you, my lad." * * * * * "READING between the lines" is a dangerous occupation--when there's a train coming. * * * * * THE HIGH-METALLED RACER.--A locomotive engine. * * * * * [Illustration: A DEFINITION WANTED "Beg pardon, sir, but don't you see the notice?" "Yes, my good fellow, but I never said I was a gentleman!"] * * * * * MY SEASON TICKET Ever against my breast, Safe in my pocket pressed, Ready at my behest, Daintily pretty Gilt-printed piece of leather, Though fair or foul the weather, Daily we go together Up to the City. Yet, as I ride at ease, Papers strewn on my knees, And I hear "Seasons, please!" Shouted in warning: Pockets I search in vain All through and through again; "Pray do not stop the train-- Lost it this morning. No, I have not a card, Nor can I pay you, guard-- Truly my lot is hard, This is the reason, Now I recall to mind Changing my clothes, I find I left them all behind,-- Money, cards, 'season.'" * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE SOUTH-EASTERN COMPANY'S REFRESHMENT ROOMS.--"O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying south!" * * * * * [Illustration: AN INQUIRING MIND "Is this _our_ train, aunty?" "No, dear." "Whose train is it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: ["An 'Imperial Railway Administration' is now a part of Chinese bureaucracy."--_Daily Paper._] If China is to have railways, of course the dragon must enter into the design of the locomotives, &c., as above.] * * * * * [Illustration: MASHONALAND RAILWAY ["Sir Charles Metcalfe, the engineer, is now busy at Umtali arranging for the station at that place."--_Daily Telegraph._] Umtali station in the near future. The Boo-Boola express just due.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN] * * * * * AT A RAILWAY STATION Never the time and the train And the station all together! My watch--set "fast" in vain! Slow cab--and foggy weather! I have missed the express again. It was all the porter's fault, not mine, But his mind is narrow, his brain is bleak, His slowness and red tape combine To make him take about a week To label my bag--and he dared to speak, When I bade him hurry, bad words, in fine! O epithet all incarnadine, Leave, leave the lips of the working-man! It is simply past All bounds--aghast My indignation scarce hold I can. My watch may have helped to thus mislead, My cab by the fog have been stayed indeed; But still, however these things may be, Out there on the platform wrangle we-- Oh, hot and strong slang I and he, --I and he! * * * * * [Illustration: SYMPATHY _Passenger (in a whisper, behind his paper, to Wilkins, who had been "catching it" from the elder lady)._ "Mother-'n-law?" _Wilkins (in still fainter whisper)._ "Ye'" _Passenger._ "'Got just such 'nother!" [_They console together at the next buffet._] * * * * * THE ROUGH'S RAILWAY GUIDE [Illustration] The ready rough may always regard a third-class carriage, or indeed, any carriage he can make his way into with or without a ticket, on the Underground Railway as a sort of travelling Alsatia, where brutal blackguardism finds "sanctuary." The one duty of a guard--as of a watch--is to "keep time." He is not expected to keep anything else, except tips. For instance he is not bound to keep his temper, or to keep on the look out for roughs. No one has a legal right to get into a carriage which is full, but then a third-class carriage never is full so long as one more brawny brute can violently force his way into it. When bent upon enjoying the exceptional privileges and immunities reserved for blackguardism by the Underground Gallios, it is only necessary for a few hulking ruffians, big of course, and half drunk by preference, to thrust themselves violently in some compartment containing no less than twice its legal complement. In doing this they will, of course, rudely trample the toes of weak women, and insolently dislodge the hats of inoffensive men; thus paving the way pleasantly for future operations. Having squeezed themselves in somehow, they can then further indulge in the lesser amenities of travel by puffing rank tobacco smoke in the faces of their fellow-passengers, expectorating at large with not too nice a reference to direction, and indulging in howling, chaff, and horse-play of the most offensive character. The addition of blasphemy, especially if there should be women and children present, may probably provoke a mild remonstrance from some one, and then the rough's opportunity has arrived at last. To particularise the rough's rules for dealing with such an objector and his sympathisers--if any--would be as tedious as superfluous; but the combined arts of the low pugilist, the intoxicated wife-beater, and the Lancashire "purler," may be called into play, with much enjoyment and perfect safety, until the object of his wrath is beaten into unconsciousness or kicked into convulsions. On reaching a station, the frightened passengers may perhaps dare to appeal to the guard! That autocratic official will of course, with much angry hustling and holloaing, declare that _he_ can't stop to interfere, _his_ business being, not to stay actual violence or prevent possible homicide, but to "keep time," and the ruffianly scoundrels go off shouting and singing "_Rule Britannia_" and telling their pals "what a bloomin' lark they've had in the Hunderground." * * * * * [Illustration: _Ticket Clerk._ "Where for, ma'am?" _Old Lady._ "There! Lawk a mercy if I haven't forgot. Oh! mister, please run over a few of the willages on this railway, will yer?" [_Bell rings--Old Lady is swept away._] * * * * * [Illustration: YE RAILWAY STATION DURING YE HOLIDAY TIME IN YE ROMAN PERIOD (From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum)] * * * * * [Illustration: "WAR'S ALARMS" _Timorous Old Lady (in a twitter)._ "Are those cannon balls, station-master?" _Station-Master (compassionately)._ "Oh no, mu'm, they're only Dutch cheeses, 'm', come by the Rotterdam boat last night--that's all, mu'm!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MAIDEN'S PRAYER A sketch at Aldersgate Street Station] * * * * * [Illustration: OBSTRUCTIONISTS IN A SMOKING CARRIAGE] * * * * * [Illustration] TERMINUS TRIOLETS _At Charing Cross._ To Paris by the tidal train. Here, register this luggage, quick! Why, all the world seems going, Jane, To Paris by the tidal train. It's blowing quite a hurricane; I hope, my love, you won't be sick. To Paris by the tidal train. Here, register this luggage, quick! _At Euston._ By Jove, I've run it precious near, Was ever "hansom"-horse so slow! Look sharp, now, porter, for it's clear, By Jove, I've run it precious near. Holloa!--that gun-case--hand it here, The hat-box in the van can go. By Jove, I've run it precious near! Was ever "hansom"-horse so slow! _At Liverpool Street._ Six wholes, three halves, all second class. The baby, mind, you might have killed her. Oh, policeman, please to let us pass! Six wholes, three halves, all second class, To Yarmouth. What a madd'ning mass Of people. Do come on, Matilda. Six wholes, three halves, all second class. The baby, mind, you might have killed her. _At Victoria._ Two first, return, to Brighton, please. Oh, yes--we'll go in Pullman's car. I like to travel at my ease; Two first, return, to Brighton, please. We're running down to breathe the breeze, I can't from business go too far. Two first, return, to Brighton, please. Oh, yes--we'll go in Pullman's car. _At Paddington._ Guard, mark "Engaged" this carriage, pray; Now, why on earth's the fellow grinning? How could he know we're wed to-day? Guard, mark "Engaged" this carriage, pray. My darling, hide that white bouquet; My head with champagne fumes is spinning. Guard, mark "Engaged" this carriage, pray. Now, why on earth's the fellow grinning? _At Waterloo._ Good-bye my boy; just one kiss more; You'll write to mother now and then? A sign from sea is sweet on shore, Good-bye, my boy; just one kiss more. Nay, don't you cry, dear, I implore, Red eyes are never meant for men. Good-bye, my boy; just one kiss more; You'll write to mother now and then? [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: "The last link is broken that bound me to thee"] * * * * * BRADBURY, AGNEW & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
39604	----	[Illustration] [Illustration] BURLESQUES [Illustration MR. GEORGE GRAVES IN "PRINCESS CAPRICE"] BURLESQUES BY H. M. BATEMAN WITH AN INTRODUCTORY NOTE BY A. E. JOHNSON [Illustration] LONDON DUCKWORTH & CO. 3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN [Illustration _First Published 1916_] PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND [Illustration] INTRODUCTORY NOTE Mr. H. M. Bateman possesses in remarkable degree that rare gift, a real power of comic draughtsmanship. He is capable not only of comic vision, but of comic expression. His "line" is an instinctive expression of the comic: it reveals an innate feeling for the essentially humorous. To put it briefly, if somewhat vaguely, he "draws funnily." He is the terse and witty pictorial _raconteur_--a shrewd observer who can sum up a character, or conjure up a scene, with a few strokes of such penetrating insight that they carry instant conviction. Humour of the kind which the drawings in this volume embody is so spontaneous, and the expression of it so direct and incisive, that there is perhaps a tendency to overlook the intensity of the effort which produces the seemingly effortless result. Mr. Bateman's method is sometimes described as caricature, but that is to miss its true significance, though the term may seem, upon the surface, appropriate enough. Caricature is the art of inducing humour, by dint of satirical exaggeration, in a subject not necessarily humorous of itself. Mr. Bateman's more difficult function is to reveal humour, not to impose it. There is no trace of the self-conscious humorist in these drawings. Facetiousness is a quality conspicuously and gratefully absent. The artist's only concern is to pluck the very heart out of his subject, and that his mind has a trend towards the humorous aspect of life is merely accidental. For it is the humour of life, not merely of men, that attracts him, and even when he deals with seemingly quite trivial subjects, there is nothing petty or trite about his comic treatment of them. He generalises. His observations are of types, not of individuals, of situations rather than of scenes. He draws for us people whom we all know but none of us have actually seen, for when he portrays a type his sketch embodies all the salient characteristics that go to make that type. If he draws a plumber, for example, he shows us the Compleat Plumber--more like a plumber than any plumber ever was. And as with character, so with action--whatever Mr. Bateman elects to make his puppets do, they do it with an intensity and vigour beyond all practical possibility, but not (and this is the artist's secret) beyond the bounds of imagination and belief. When a man is seen running in a Bateman drawing he does not merely run--he _runs_; if he slumbers, one can veritably hear him snore! The intensity of the artist's imaginative effort visualises for us that which cannot humanly be, but would be if it could. Pictorial exponents of the comic art are few, for of so-called "humorous drawings" not many are inspired by the true comic spirit. It is a fortunate opportunity, therefore, which the present volume provides of preserving in collected form so much that bears the evident stamp of the real thing. A. E. J. [Illustration] [Illustration] LIST OF DRAWINGS PAGE THEY CALL IT "FAME" 1 MAESTROS: THE IMPRESSIVE 3 MAESTROS: THE UNEMOTIONAL 5 MAESTROS: THE SENTIMENTAL 7 THE WINTER VEST 9 THE MAN WHO WON A MOTOR-CAR 11 THE ACCOMPANIST WHO DID HER BEST 13 THE POTTER-ABOUT-THE-HALL-ALL-DAY PERSON 15 THE GRUMBLE-AT-THE-FOOD-AND-EVERYTHING-ELSE PERSON 17 "I REMEMBER IN 1870----" 19 THE TEMPER 21 GENUINE ANTIQUES 23 SIGHTS UP IN TOWN 25 SIGHTS DOWN IN THE COUNTRY 27 LITTLE TICH 29 THE BLUE 31 PREPARATIONS FOR A GREAT OFFENSIVE 32, 33 GARÇON! 35 MAN AND WIFE 37 SPEECHMAKERS: THE FAITHFUL OLD DOG 39 SPEECHMAKERS: THE WORM 41 TWINS 43 PLATONIC 45 ALL THIS FOR 3D., 6D., AND 1/- 47 THE MISSED PUTT 49 THE MAN WHO ONLY WANTED TWO HALFPENNIES FOR A PENNY 51 PSYCHIC: GLOOM 53 LOST--A PEKINESE DOG 55 DANCERS AND DANCES: SPANISH 57 DANCERS AND DANCES: AMERICAN 59 DANCERS AND DANCES: ORIENTAL 61 THE PUBLIC LIBRARY 63 MERELY A MATTER OF SECONDS 65 A HEART TO HEART TALK 67 HOW I WON THE MARATHON 69 99° IN THE SHADE 71 [Illustration] _The drawings contained in this book originally appeared, with some exceptions, in "The Sketch," "London Opinion," "The Graphic," "The Bystander," "Printer's Pie" and "Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News." The author is indebted to the proprietors of these journals for permission to issue them in this volume._ [Illustration THEY CALL IT "FAME"] [Illustration] [Illustration MAESTROS I. The Impressive: Rachmaninoff's "Prelude"] [Illustration] [Illustration MAESTROS II. The Unemotional: Bach's "Italian Fugue"] [Illustration] [Illustration MAESTROS III. The Sentimental: A Chopin Nocturne] [Illustration] [Illustration STUDIES OF A RESPECTABLE MIDDLE-AGED GENTLEMAN WEARING A NEW WINTER VEST FOR THE FIRST TIME] [Illustration] [Illustration THE MAN WHO WON A MOTOR-CAR] [Illustration] [Illustration THE ACCOMPANIST WHO DID HER BEST] [Illustration] [Illustration HOTEL HOGS The potter-about-the-hall-all-day-and-watch-the-new-arrivals person] [Illustration] [Illustration HOTEL HOGS The grumble-at-the-food-and-everything-else person] [Illustration] [Illustration "I REMEMBER IN 1870----" London clubmen in war-time parading for practice in writing to the papers] [Illustration] [Illustration THE TEMPER] [Illustration THE GOBLETS\] [Illustration GENUINE ANTIQUES] [Illustration] [Illustration SIGHTS UP IN TOWN] [Illustration] [Illustration SIGHTS DOWN IN THE COUNTRY] [Illustration] [Illustration LITTLE TICH] [Illustration] [Illustration THE BLUE] [Illustration PREPARATIONS FOR--] [Illustration --A GREAT OFFENSIVE] [Illustration] [Illustration "GARÇON!"] [Illustration] [Illustration MAN AND WIFE] [Illustration] [Illustration SPEECHES AND THEIR MAKERS The Faithful Old Dog] [Illustration] [Illustration SPEECHES AND THEIR MAKERS The Worm] [Illustration] [Illustration TWINS] [Illustration] [Illustration PLATONIC] [Illustration] [Illustration ALL THIS FOR 3D.\, 6D.\, AND 1/-] [Illustration] [Illustration THE MISSED PUTT] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration THE MAN WHO ONLY WANTED TWO HALFPENNIES FOR A PENNY] [Illustration] [Illustration PSYCHIC] [Illustration] [Illustration LOST--A PEKINESE DOG] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration DANCERS AND DANCES Spanish] [Illustration] [Illustration DANCERS AND DANCES American] [Illustration] [Illustration DANCERS AND DANCES Oriental] [Illustration] [Illustration THE PUBLIC LIBRARY] [Illustration] [Illustration MERELY A MATTER OF SECONDS] [Illustration] [Illustration A HEART-TO-HEART TALK] [Illustration] [Illustration HOW I WON THE MARATHON] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration 99° IN THE SHADE] [Illustration] * * * * * Transcriber's Notes Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired. Italic text is denoted by _underscore_ and bold text by =equal signs=. The following numerous errors were left as is: endquote missing punctuation No punctuation at para end 
38683	----	+======================================================================+ | | | Transcriber's notes | | | | Illustrations have been moved to directly below the article | | they refer to and some pages of this work have been moved from the | | original sequence to enable the contents to continue without | | interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered. | | | | Text printed in italics in the original is represented here between | | underscores, as in _text_. | | | | Text printed in small capitals in the original work have been | | changed to ALL CAPITALS. | | | +======================================================================+ [Illustration: GOLF STORIES] * * * * * PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J.A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES [Illustration: GOLFER] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GOLFER'S DREAM] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES TOLD BY HIS MERRY MEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, F.H. TOWNSEND, HARRY FURNISS, E.T. REED, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. PEGRAM, A.S. BOYD, A.T. SMITH, A. WALLIS MILLS, DAVID WILSON, C.E. BROCK, GUNNING KING, C. HARRISON, G.L. STAMPA, TOM BROWNE AND OTHERS [Illustration: GOLFER] _WITH 136 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" * * * * * THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] THE HUMOUR OF GOLF There are few pastimes that supply their followers with more innocent merriment than is afforded by "the royal and ancient." Certainly no outdoor game can make the neophyte feel more utterly worm-like in his ability, for it is the peculiar quality of golf to appear to be absurdly easy to the onlooker and preposterously difficult to the unpractised player. It may be taken that there is no better way of reducing a man's self-conceit than to place him on the teeing ground for the first time, present him with a driver and invite him to strike a little rubber-cored ball to a distance of 200 yards in a given direction. Consequently we have here most excellent material for fun; and you may depend upon it MR. PUNCH has not had his eyes long shut to the humours of the links. Despite the royalty and antiquity of golf, it has been thoroughly democratised in modern times, and its popularity, in the wide proportions to which it has attained, is chiefly a matter of recent years. Despite the shortness of the period that is represented by what we may call the vogue of golf--a vogue that is by no means in danger of passing--MR. PUNCH has evidently found the game so rich in fun that his merry knights of the pen and the pencil have contributed to his pages as many pictures as to illustrate very lavishly this volume and a good deal more literary matter than could be used. In the days when croquet was as popular as golf is to-day--the days of Leech and Keene--doubtless a volume could have been drawn from PUNCH devoted entirely to that sport. But it is worthy of note that an examination of these old croquet pictures and jokes for a comparison of them with the contents of the present volume leaves one with the conviction that the humour of the present day is infinitely superior to the humour of the days of Leech and Keene. Admirable draughtsmen though these artists were, both of them, but Leech particularly, were often content to let their masterly drawings appear with the feeblest jokes attached. The standard of humour has been immensely raised of late years, and MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES is no bad evidence of that. [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S GOLF STORIES "GOLFERS AS I 'AVE KNOWN" (_By a Caddie_) [Illustration: MR. PUNCH] Golfers I divides in me own mind into three clarses; them as 'its the ball, them as skratches it, and them as neither 'its nor skratches the blooming ball but turns rarnd and wants to 'it or skratch anyone as is small and 'andy. The first clars is very rare, the second is dreadfull plentifull, and the third, thank 'evins, can jeneraly be kep clear of by them as knows the ropes. Sich as meself. Any himprovement in golfers, as a clars, is doo to the 'uge morril hinfluence of us caddies, 'oom some pretends to look down on. Much can be done, even wif the most 'ardened (and some of them golfers is dreadfull 'ardened), by firmness and hexample. "Show 'em from the fust as you'll stand no nonsense," is allus my words when the yunger caddies gathers ararn me fer hadvice. Me being older than me years, as the sying is, and much looked up to. If, as I often 'ears say, there's less of langwidge and more of golf upon these 'ere links, it's doo in no small part to 'im 'oo pens these lines. 'Oo's 'onnered nime is 'Enery Wilks. I seldom demmeans meself to speak to the kulprits, for severil reasons which I shall not go into, but I 'ave other meffods. There's sniffing, fer instance. Much can be done by jerdishous sniffing, which can be chinged to soot all cases. Or there's a short, 'ard, dryish larf, but that ain't allus sife. As a blooming rule, I rellies upon me sniff, me smile and me eye. There's few of them as can meet the last when I chuses to turn it on. Not as I objecs very strongly to a little 'onnest cussing; it's hinjustice and false haccusashun as I will not stand. Sich are me meffods to them as needs 'em, but don't think, becos at times I'm cold like and 'ard and stern, that I cannot be jentle wif them as call fer jentleness. No blooming errer! 'Enery Wilks is the lad to 'oom old gents in need of keerfull nussing should be hintrusted by their wives and keepers. I'm not allooding now to old tigers 'oos stiple food is red pepper in 'uge quantitties, 'oo turn upon yer like blooming manniacks if yer blows yer nose quite inercent, and 'oo report yer before yer know if you're standing on yer 'ead or yer 'eels. No, I'm not allooding to old gentlemen like them! 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use fer sich unguvverned creetures. In 'is erpinyun they should not be let abrord without a chine. But I am allooding to them 'oos pashuns age 'as tamed, insted of blooming well hincreesed, to jentle 'armless old fellers, 'oo will almost eat out of yer 'and, as the sying is, an sich a one is Mister Perceval Giggington. Over sixty 'e is, and allus kind and civvil and respeckfull, but 'e 'as no more haptitood fer golf than a jeerarf. Sometimes I thinks, musing kindly like, as 'ow the old cove 'ud be yunger if 'e took the gime less seerius. But 'Enery Wilks 'as little to reproche 'imself about; 'e, at least, 'as done what 'e could to 'elp old Giggs. 'Is wife came down to the Club 'Ouse wif 'im larst Toosday, jest as nice an old lidy as 'e's a gent. She drew me on one side and spoke konfidenshul like, while the old man was fussing and bleeting about 'is clubs. It seems as she'd 'eard of me, and 'eard nuthing but good. Which is only right. "'Enery," she ses, "me 'usband 'as set 'is 'art, as you well know, on going rarnd the course in under an 'undred and thirty strokes. It's beginning to tell on 'is 'ealth, the strine and diserpointment, and I wants it stopped. 'E's going rarnd allone wif you now, as the course is clear, and I wants," she ses, "_I wants you to see as 'e does it!_" she ses. Well, nobody, excep one ignerrant, gellous, preggerdiced skoolmaster, 'as ever dared to call 'Enery Wilks a fool. I took 'er meaning in a moment, and I touched me cap, quiet and konfident like. "Mike yer mind easy, mum," I ses in my korteous way. "It shall be done, this very day, if 'Enery Wilks is spared," I ses. She nods and smiles and slips a bob into me 'and, and then old Giggs finishes wurrying abart 'is clubs and we makes a start. The old 'un 'ands 'is card to me to keep, and I speaks to 'im, kind like but firm. "I'll keep the score, sir," I ses. "Don't yer wurry abart yer strokes at all. What you've got to do is to koncentrite yer mind upon yer gime. For we're a-goin to do it to-day," I ses. 'E 'ears me wif a little sorrerful smile, and I lived up to them remarks. 'E'd arsk me at the end of an 'ole, that 'e'd fairly bitten along, 'ow many 'e'd taken, but I would never tell 'im. I jest kep 'im upon 'is legs wif kindly, jerdishous praise. Even after that 'ole where 'e'd strook me wif 'is ball from the drive, although standing well be'ind 'im, and been in each bunker twice or more, I give 'im a word of 'ope. It was niblick play and 'ope all rarnd the blooming course. And at the end, when I added up 'is card, strike me pink if 'is score weren't an 'undred and twenty-nine! And I sent 'im 'ome to 'is wife, as pleased as any child. There's some, I dessay, as would 'ave made 'is score an 'undred and nineteen or even less, but 'Enery Wilks 'as allus known the virtew of modderation. * * * * * [Illustration: _Caddie (visiting)._ "What kind o' player is he?" _Caddie (engaged)._ "_'Im?_ He just plays as if it was for pleesure!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _McFoozler (after a steady sequence of misses)._ "Ah--er--is there a _limit_ for these links?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Policeman._ "Where did you get that bag?" _Bill Sykes_ (_indignantly_). "There you are! Nice thing, in a free country, that a man can't have a quiet hundred up without the police interfering!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Jones has recently taken up golf. He is already proficient in one department--the art of addressing the ball.] * * * * * II. There's some as takes their golf too seerius fer their strength, like that pore old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I've told yer, and there's some as don't take it seerius enuff. Under this 'eading I places Mister 'Erminius Brellett. 'E's what they call a litterry cove in privit life, and, wifout wishing to be undoolly 'arsh, I must say as I beleeves it of 'im. Strike me pink, if I didn't know as 'e was litterry, I should go away sometimes after 'earing 'im talk, and swear a hinfer-mashun of loonacy agin 'im! But Chawley Martin, one of our caddies, 'oo once spoke quite hintermate and friendly like wif a reporter feller, in connecshun wif a biking accerdent caused by Chawley's unforchernate pashun fer trick riding, ses as 'ow all these pore riters is alike. So you and me should only pitty them. As fer 'is golf, exsentrick ain't the word fer it. 'E stands wif both 'is feet quite klose together, springs 'igh into the air wif a tremenjus swing, and strikes the ball afore 'e comes to earth agin. The erstonishing thing is that 'e does strike it abart once in three, and when 'e does it goes like old Gewillikins. It just shows as there ain't no rules abart some peeple's golf. But the sad part is as 'e's quite proud of 'is stile, insted of laberring to kerrect it under my tewishun. [Illustration: "Keep your head still" is the first rule in golf, and Binks means to do so.] "I'm a mishonnery, a pyoneer of golf, 'Enery," 'e ses to me quite recent. "'Ow I plays it to-day, the rest of the silly 'ide-bound creetures will play it to-morrow," 'e ses. "Let's 'ope not, sir," I ses, quite respeckfull and reely meaning the words; fer, if yer think of it, a course full of Mister 'Erminius Brelletts would be an 'iddeous sight. 'E glared at me fer a moment quite dangerous, and then 'e began to larf. What wif 'is livver, at which 'e's allus cussing, and 'is kurious 'arf-irriterble, 'arf-manniackal temper, I can tell yer 'e takes some 'andling. But 'Enery Wilks knows 'is 'Erminius Brellett by this time. "Your one chawnce of fime, you retched child," 'e ses, and I found 'is stile of speaking jest a little gorling, "will rest on the fact that you karried the clubs of 'Erminius Brellett, pyoneer of golf and unerpreshiated riter of himmortal books," 'e ses. Well, yer can't argue wif a man like that. Yer can only yumour 'im by respeckful silence, and be reddy all the time to dodge if 'is manyer turns 'ommersidal all of a sudden. 'E took on Mister Washer the other day, a member 'oom both 'e and I 'ave little liking fer. At least, I can arnser fer meself. Fer 'e's one of your pompus, strutting sort of fellers, 'oo thinks 'e's good at golf, but ain't. I 'eard 'im chalenge Mister Brellett to play a rarnd fer 'arf-a-crown, and a less skilful stoodent of yuman nachure than 'Enery Wilks could 'ave told as they didn't love each other. I 'ad a privit tuppence on the match meself, wif old Washer's caddy, although not very 'opeful. 'Owever, when 'Enery Wilks' money is down, as the sying is, 'e's 'ard to beat. But things went badly wif us from the start. I could see as 'ow Mister Brellett was wurried abart somethink, and in addition to that 'e was acktaly trying to play a keerful, sientifick gime. Oh, lumme, it was orful, I can tell yer! We was skarcely touching a ball, and old Washer, as pleesed as a turkey-kock but far less hornimental, was playing right above 'isself. Fer a man like meself, 'oo'd staked above 'is means, it was 'art-breaking. We lost five 'oles bang orf, and then Mister Brellett spoke 'arf to me and 'arf to 'isself as we walked to the sixth tee. "It's all that cussed nime!" 'e ses. "If I could only think of that, I'd be orlright. A female nime fer a kerrecter in my new book. 'Enery, what's the nime of your yung woman?" 'e ses, joking like. Well, love ain't much in my line, me ambishuns not letting me 'amper meself wif wimmen, but still a feller 'as to keep 'is 'and in. I won't say as I 'aven't been more run after than most, but some'ow that ain't one of my temptashuns. 'Owever, more to pleese 'er than meself, I lets one of them, jest a school kiddy, walk out wif me at times. She means well, I do believe, but I've allus reckoned as 'ow 'er nime's agin 'er. "Hervangeline's 'er nime, Mister Brellett," I ses, deprerkating like. "But she can't 'elp it," I ses. "By Jewpiter!" 'e 'owls. "Hervangeline's the very nime I've been 'unting for. And now I'll win this match!" 'e ses. "You'll win it orlright, sir," I ses, ernest like. "But, for 'evin's sake, stop playing sientifick! Play the old gime as you're pyoneer on, sir," I ses. "I beleeve as 'ow you're right, 'Enery," 'e ses, thoughtful like; and then we come to the tee and watched old Washer drive 'is yusual straight, shortish ball. Then Mister Brellett grips 'is club, takes 'is yusual wicked, himmoril stance, springs 'igh into the air wif an 'arf-styfled yell, and, by Gewillikins, drives sich a ball as the pro. 'isself might 'ave been proud on! It knocked the kowardly 'art out of old Washer, did that tremenjus drive; and 'e's a man as only plays 'is best when 'e's winning easy. They 'ad a narsty lead, but we stuck to 'em like wax, 'itting a turriffick ball once out of three, or even oftener, and we won at last quite 'andsomely by three and two. I remember as I bought bull's-eyes fer Hervangeline wif that 'ere tuppence, becos in a meshure, as you may say, she'd 'ad an 'and in the winning of it. 'Owever, wif a jenerosity unyusual in wimmen, she hinsisted on sharing 'em wif 'Enery Wilks, 'oos skilful leedership 'ad reely won the match. * * * * * [Illustration: _Short-sighted Old Lady_ (_to little Binks, who is going to the golf-links_). "How much will you charge me to mend this umbrella?"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--"_Something_ must be wrong. That's the third time running I've used this club!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ! ! ! ! _Lily_ (_from Devonshire, on a visit to her Scotch Cousin Margy in St. Andrews, N.B._). "What a strange thing fashion is, Margy! Fancy a game like golf reaching up as far north as this!"] * * * * * THE HANDY CADDY _Why Jones sold his Big St. Bernard and substituted a Tame Caribou, which a friend brought him home from Canada._ [Illustration: IT WAS SO HANDY WHEN GOING OUT GOLFING. IT MADE SUCH A CAPITAL CADDY. AND JONES COULD INDULGE IN EXPLETIVES WITHOUT BEING A BAD EXAMPLE IF THE WEATHER SUDDENLY TURNED OFF COLD HE HAD ONLY TO HELP HIMSELF TO A TOP COAT; & IF IT RAINED TO AN UMBRELLA AND SOU'WESTER. ALSO IT GAVE QUITE A PARK-LIKE APPEARANCE TO JONES' BACK GARDEN.] * * * * * III. Taking it all in all, 'Enery Wilks 'as very little use for wimmen. Excep, of course, as playthings and rellaxashuns after toil. As sich I regards Hervangerline, of 'oom I've told yer. That is, when 'er mood is dosile. At sich times, when she is not trying to be yumourous or utherwise acting the goat, the child can listen, wif doo respekt, whilst 'im she loves so well unbends 'isself. It is 'er privviledge to see 'Enery Wilks remove 'is stern cold marsk. Yuss, I tollerates Hervangerline, but I 'ave little use fer uther wimmen. Speaking quite frenkly, I can find little to kommend in the hexeckertive of these 'ere links, but there is one of their resent hinnervashuns in pertickler that fills me wif cold rage. This is the rule permitting lidy members to play on the course, excep' on Satterday and Sunday. Lord knows as 'ow the men is bad enuff to deal wif. 'Eadstrong, vain, irriterble and pig-'eaded they mostly is, but oh! strike me pink and purple, if they ain't fair angels, wings and all, kompared to those dredfull, onreasoningable wimmen! Onreasoningable is the one word as I can use to deskribe them. And that don't do 'em justise. Wif a man, to some eggstent, you do know where you are. You do know from eggsperiense 'ow fur you may go wif 'im, before 'e katches you a clump on the side of the 'ead. But wif wimmen no eggsperiense will 'elp yer. Becos there ain't no rules abart them. Lord knows as 'ow I started out wif the idear of pleesing 'em. I ses to Hervangerline, the evening I 'eard abart it, "We're going to 'ave lidies on the course, kid," I ses. "Your 'Enery will 'ave to smarten 'isself up a bit fer their dear sakes," I ses. Womanlike she begun to snif. "You take care, 'Enery Wilks," she ses worningly. "You take care of them desining 'ussies. There's many of 'em as will be after you, I knows it well. Fer some wimmen," she ses, sort of sarkastic, "some wimmen will go after anythink in trarsers," she ses. Well, I wears nickers meself as a general rule, but I knowed what she meant. And, though of course I 'id it from her, pertending to be kontemptewous, I found 'er words quite pleesing. I thort to meself, komplasent like, as 'ow some of these lidy members might show a prefferrence fer that one of our caddies as is pollished and korteous and older than 'is years. But, apparriently, both I and Hervangerline was rong--iddeously rong. Fer it's no good konseeling from meself, at anyrate, as 'ow I 'aven't been a komplete success so fur wif our lidy members. Why sich should be the case I cannot tell, but there it is. There's a preggerdise agin me as is kep' alive by the ontiring, revengfull tungs of Miss Trigsie Kornish and Missis Jossephus 'Askins. And this is 'ow that preggerdise begun. They come along one morning and say as 'ow they're going to play a rarnd, and they'll share a caddy between them. And to my ondying greef they picked on 'Enery Wilks. Not as there was anythink surprising in their doing that. In their place I'd 'ave picked on 'im meself. And I'm bound in justise to say as there was nothing in _their_ appeerance to set me agin them. Missis 'Askins is very yung and plessant-looking, although she _is_ married, and Miss Kornish is darkish and carries 'erself wif a sort of swing. No, their looks was rite enuff; it was only their dredfull 'abit of cheating as made the trubble. They started as frendly as love-birds, but by the second 'ole the fur was beginning to stand up stiff upon their backs. It was their orful onguvernabul keenness as did it. On the third green Missis 'Askins asks Miss Kornish 'ow many she's played, and she tells 'er, nine, quite brisk like. Now both Misses 'Askins and meself _knew_ quite well as 'ow Miss Kornish 'ad played ten; indeed, I could see as ow Misses 'Askins thort it were eleven. They rangles a bit abart it, growing gradewally more 'eated, and then Misses 'Askins erpeals to me, and I gives it in 'er favour, trying very 'ard to rap it up plessant like. Miss Kornish glares at me like a cat 'oom you've mannidged to 'it wif a brick whilst it's taking a stroll quite inercent and leshurely; but she doesn't say much and we goes on. Two 'oles later it all 'appens agin, only this time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo 'as kondescended to redooce 'er score. They rages rarnd upon the green, and then Miss Kornish erpeals to me, and truth kompels me to erward the 'ole to 'er. This time it's Missis 'Askins 'oo glarnces at me as though she'd like to cut orf my yung life. But 'Enery Wilks can stand a lot of that. So we goes on agin, wif the air growing 'eavier like, and three 'oles later they both erpeals to me, fer both is cheating. It was an 'ard posishun fer a yung feller as is only wishfull to pleese. 'Owever, I desided to give pore old Truth another chawnce; although misdoubtfull. So I ses to them quite respeckfull like, as 'ow both their scores is inakkerite and should I keep them both in fuchure? Oh Lumme, I'd like to forgit what 'appened then! All in a moment those two young wimmen grew frendly agin to each other and konsentrited all their rage and spite on 'Enery Wilks. They fell upon me wif their tungs, and I felt as though I was being 'it wif barbed wire and nettels. They called me "impudent little boy," me the chosin 'ero of the yunger caddies, and I could only garsp and trimble. Their crewel thretts brought tears even to my proud eyes, and I almost beleeve as 'ow I grovvellel before them. It 'urts me to remember it. When at last they 'ad tired themselves out, they finished their rarnd as though they 'ad never 'ad an unkind thort towards each other, and I slunk be'ind them, dased and silent, like a puppy 'oos been kicked. And that's--that's what comes of edmitting wimmen to a golf corse! * * * * * [Illustration: "THE BOGEY COMPETITION"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Little Albert_ (_always thirsting for knowledge_). "Uncle, do they pronounce that rico_chay_ing or rico_chet_ting?"] * * * * * [Illustration: 1. "Carry your clubs, guvnor, for sixpence!" "No, thanks, I don't require a caddie." 2. "Carry yer clubs for fourpence, boss!" "Go away, boy, I'll carry 'em myself." 3. "Carry 'em for thrippence, mister" (no response). 4. A smash! 5. (_After the smash_). "I say, captain, I'll carry _your_ clubs for nothin', _jist for the fun of the thing_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S PATENT CADDIE CAR] * * * * * [Illustration: Golf is now being played on the Norman Coast] * * * * * [Illustration: Golf is being played very much in Egypt] * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW DISEASE--THE GOLF TWIST] * * * * * [Illustration: The above caddie (in the course of his third round with Colonel Foozle, who always takes out a collection of two dozen clubs, if only for the look of the thing) begins to doubt if he, the caddie, really belongs to the idle classes, as stated in the papers.] * * * * * [Illustration: "HOW'S THAT, UMPIRE?" _Golf Player._ "Now then, what are you grinning at, boy? Don't you know where the ball is?" _Caddie._ "Yus, sir, I know, sir. Please, sir, that there dun cow 've swallered it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_Country Police Court_ _Magistrate._ "My boy, do you fully realise the nature of an oath?" _Boy._ "Well, I oughter, considerin' the times I've caddied for yer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miggs and Griggs, who have got away for a week-end holiday, have strayed on to the golf links, and have been watching the colonel, who has been bunkered for the last ten minutes--and the language!!_ _Miggs._ "What's he doing?" _Griggs._ "I dunno. Think he's trying to kill something."] IV. Yumin nachure is a kurius thing. I dunno whether this thort 'as okkurred to other peeple, but I sees the truth of it more clearly every day. You may studdy a man fer weeks and think as 'ow you know 'im inside out, and then, when you try to make some use of 'is pecooliarities, they ain't working that day, or else some little hannoying trifle spiles your well lade skeems. Sich was the sad case of Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle and my friend Chawley Martin. Mister Glenwistle is an oldish jentleman now, but in 'is day 'e 'as been a famus eggsplorer. Jeograffy never being my strong point, I dunno egsackly where 'e went eggsploring, or why 'e did it. Chawley Martin, 'oo's jenerally 'is caddie, is my hinformant, and some days 'e will 'ave it that Mister Glenwistle would once 'ave reached the Pole if 'is boots 'adn't guv out, and at other times 'e hinsists that it was Africer that 'e visited. I dunno, meself; per'aps the old jentleman 'as been to both them regins in 'is time. But any'ow all is agreed that once 'e lived for nearly three weeks upon an oldish poodle dawg--which is an orfull thort. Sich an eggspeerience must leeve its mark upon any man, 'owever strong. It 'as left its mark upon Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. Every blade of 'air 'as vannished from 'is skalp, and 'is face is a sort of dark brick colour wif light eyebrows. 'E still suffers from sunstroke, and Chawley Martin 'as to carry a large red umbereller round the links to pertect 'is 'ead. I dunno whether it's the sunstroke, or whether it's 'is ondying remorce for that pore faithfull poodle, but Mister Glenwistle suffers terrible from absentmindedness. 'E 'as been known to swing up 'is great, red umbereller upon the tee and try to drive wif that, and Chawley Martin allus 'as to watch 'im keerfull to see what 'e'll be up to next. 'E 'ates to be disturbed when in one of 'is mooning fits, and is apt to swear terrible in some forrin' langwidge, which Chawley thinks is Eskimo; but still 'e's a jentleman all over, is Mister Hoctavius Glenwistle. 'Is tips is 'andsome, and it don't give 'im no pleshure to repport an 'armless lad. One Sunday lately 'e came down wif a frend for an 'ole day's golf. Chawley Martin, as yusual, was 'is caddie, and I ondertook the manidgement of the frend. All went well in the morning, excep' that Mister Glenwistle fell into a sort of dream upon the seventh green and 'ad to be rarsed by Chawley. It may 'ave been Eskimo that 'e spoke to the boy when 'e'd touched 'im jently on the arm, but it sounded wuss--much wuss. 'Owever, we comes back at one to the club-'ouse, red umbereller and all, like _Robbinson Crewso_, and they goes into lunch. Whilst they're still laying into the grub like winking, I and Chawley Martin, 'aving eaten our own frugil meal, sit down near the 'club-'ouse and begin to polish up their clubs. We fell a-talking about the great science of golf, getting quite 'eated in a little while, and at last Chawley, to illerstrate 'is own mistakin theery, gets upon 'is 'ind legs. 'E takes Mister Glenwistle's best driver from 'is bag and shows me what 'e calls "a full swing, wif every ounce of weight and rist and mussel crammed into it." I was afeard 'ow it would be. The length of the club mastered 'im. 'E 'it the onoffending turf a crewel blow, and there was a narsty crack. 'E sits down beside me wif a garsp, and we looks at Mister Glenwistle's pet driver wif the 'ead 'arf off. "What's to be done, 'Enery?" 'e ses, after a sort of sickly pawse. Fer my part I'd been thinking 'ard, me brain being better than most. "There's three courses open to you, Chawley, me lad," I ses quietly. "You can do a guy at once, and not come back--that's one; or you can tell Mister G. as you've been fooling wif 'is clubs--that's another," I ses, and waited fer 'is risponse. "Let's 'ear the third," he ses gloomily. "Deceat is aborrent to my nachure," I ses. "But you're made diferent, Chawley. You could make use of 'is absentmindedness and let 'im think as 'e broke it 'isself. 'Old it out to 'im wif a sort of winning smile, when 'e comes, and say as 'ow you're afrade it will 'ave to be mended after all. It's a fair sportin' chawnce," I ses. "'Enery, you're a fair marvel!" 'e ses, after pondering fer a minute. "I'll try it on," he ses. And so we left it. I didn't see the meeting between Mister Glenwistle and 'is well-meaning caddie, becos my klient sent me to get him a ball, but when I came back I seed as 'ow Chawley was sniffing slightly, and 'is large outstanding ears was reddened. 'Is manner was coldish like to me, but when the two 'ad drivin, I asked 'im what 'ad 'appened. "'E just boxed me ears," Chawley ses, "and told me as 'ow 'e'd repport me if I lied to 'im agen," 'e ses. Fer once I was reely taken aback. "I can't make it out, Chawley," I ses. "Where was 'is yusual absentmindedness? It just shows as 'ow you can't depend on nuthing in this world! Did you do as I told you, winning smile and all?" I asks 'im. "Yuss, I did," 'e ses, snappish like. "But it seems as 'ow 'is interfeering frend 'appened to look out of the club-'ouse when I was showing you that swing, and seed it all. Anuther time you can keep your winning smiles and your fat-'eaded hadvice to yourself, 'Enery Wilks!" 'e ses. I didn't answer 'im, remembering 'ow 'is 'uge progecting ears was tingling, but I ses to meself, "So much, 'Enery Wilks, for yumin gratitood!" * * * * * [Illustration: Mr. Mothdriver, the famous, yet absent-minded, golf-naturalist, invariably carries a butterfly-net in his golf-bag--for he agrees with Mr. Horace Hutchinson that some of the best entomological specimens can be captured in the course of playing the royal and ancient game.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brer Rabbit._ "I suppose you haven't seen such a thing as a golf-ball about anywhere, have you?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Enthusiast._ "I say, will you play another round with me on Thursday?" _Second Enthusiast._ "Well, I'm booked to be married on that day--_but it can be postponed_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GOLF STREAM.--Flows along the eastern coast of Scotland during the summer and autumn. (Vide _Report of British Association--Section V._).] * * * * * [Illustration: REAL ENJOYMENT.--_Non-Golfer_ (_middle-aged, rather stout, who would like to play, and has been recommended it as healthy and amusing_). "Well, I cannot see where the excitement comes in in this game!" _Caddie._ "Eh, mon, there's more swearing used over golf than any other game! D'ye no ca' that excitement?"] * * * * * V. A little success at golf, as I've notised, jenerally makes a man wish for more. Like the appertite of a young girl for chocerlates. I dunno if you remember that nice old Mister Giggington, of 'oom I told you. Under my skillfull gidance, and with the ade of a little inercent 'anky-panky, 'e kontrived to wander rarnd these 'ere links in an 'undred and twenty-nine. Well, ever since that serprising triemph, 'e 'as been 'ungering for fresh feelds to konker, as you might say. "I want to meet someone, 'Enery, as I can beat," 'e kep' saying, quite truckewlent like. "I don't pretend as 'ow I'm brillyent, but on my day I do fancy that there's wuss." "You keep on practising steddy, sir," was my invariable words, "and one of these days we shall see you winning cups and medils." As nice and kind an old jentleman as ever smashed a club is Mister Giggington, but I allus 'ave to 'andle 'im like eggs to prevent 'im losing 'art. I didn't think as 'ow even 'Enery Wilks would be able to grattify 'is 'armless ambishun, but the uther day I saw my chawnce. It was a Toosday morning, and the course was quite disserted, excep' for Mister G., 'oo was waiting to start a practice rarnd wiv 'is pashunt teecher. Which is me. And then a new member come along 'oo was wishfull for a game, and dirrectly I set eyes on 'im, somethink, hinstink, I suppose, seemed to tell me that 'ere was the man for 'oom I 'ad been waiting. 'E was French, and I shall not attempt to rite 'is name, the 'ang of which I never reely kawt. 'E was a small, darkish, jornty man, and 'is garmints was a little briter and more cheerfull-looking than you see in England. 'E wore, among uther things, a deer-storker 'at wiv a fevver stuck in it. But 'is manners was reelly bewtifull. It was quite a site to see 'im click 'is 'eels togevver, and bow to my himployer, and in a minute they 'ad fixed their match. I 'ad 'inted to Mister G. that 'e must hinsist on 'aving a stroke an 'ole, and that was 'ow they settled it. I never lerned what the Frenchman's 'andicap was, but if the Champyon 'isself 'ad offered to take strokes from 'im 'e would 'ave closed gladly wiv the offer. And yet there was reelly nuthing erfensive about the little man. I could see as 'ow pore old Mister G. was trimbling wiv a sort of serpressed egsitement, and I wispered to 'im that 'e must play steddy and use the niblick whenever possibul. The niblick, from long practice in the bunkers, is 'is club. Me frend, Chawley Martin, was the Frenchman's caddie, and 'e took ercasion to remmark to me that we seemed in for somethink warmish. I checked the boy wiv one of my glawnces, and then we waited while 'is hemployer took the 'onner. That jentleman danced up to the tee, waving rarnd 'is head the longest and the bendiest driver that I 'ave ever seen, and 'e didn't trubble to address the ball at all. 'E just sprung at it and 'it it wiv all 'is might, and somethink fairly wistled past Chawley's 'ead as 'e stood a little be'ind the tee box. The Frenchman 'ad sliced at rite angels, and for anythink I know 'is ball is still in the air. Certingly, we never saw it agin. That slite misforchune appeered to egsite and dimmoralise Chawley's himployer, 'oo may 'ave been quite a brillyent player on 'is day, and I may say at once that 'e never reelly found 'is game. On the uther 'and it seemed to put new life and vigger into Mister G. Our erponent was appariently trying 'ard to do each 'ole in a brillyent one, but we was quite content to win them in a steddy nine. We 'ad our misforchunes, of course. 'Is deerest frend wouldn't 'ardly say as 'ow Mister G.'s game is a long one, and each bunker seems to 'ave a sort of magnettick attrackshun for 'is ball, but whilst the Frenchman's brassey remained unbroken we knew that there was allus a chawnce for the 'ole. For 'arf the rarnd it stood the crewel strane and then it didn't break. It jest seemed to sort of dissolve into small peaces. But we was two up by then and our tails was 'igh in air. As for the Frenchman, 'is meffods at times was reelly serprising. After that first drive Chawley lade 'isself down flat when 'is hemployer drove, but even in that posishun it didn't seem 'ardly safe. That long, thin, bendy driver sent the ball to all 'ites and all angels, but never once in a strate line. After a wile 'e diskarded it, and guv a fair, 'onnest trial to every club in 'is bag in turn. I should never 'ave been serprised to see 'im drive desperit like wiv 'is putter, but even then Chawley wouldn't 'ave dared say nuthink. 'E was quite a plessant, jentlemanly little man, but it didn't do to argue wiv 'im. 'E begun to scream and stamp at once, and Chawley saw pretty soon that it was best and safest to let 'im play 'is own game. It was on the fiftienth green that the great match was ended. Mister Giggington's pluck and stamminer 'ad been amasing for 'is age, but the strane and the joyfull egsitement was beginning to tell on 'im. The Frenchman tried to bring off a thirty-yard putt to save the 'ole, and failed by some forty yards. But 'e took 'is defeet like a nero. They shook 'ands on the green and 'e said that it warmed 'is 'art to reflect on the glory that 'is frendly foe 'ad won. I beleeve as 'ow there was tears in the old jentleman's eyes. 'E turned to me and I quite thort 'e was going to grasp my 'and, but instead of that 'e put a bob into it which was pretty near as good. 'E 'll never make a golfer, but 'Enery Wilks will allus be pleesed and proud to gide 'im rarnd the course. * * * * * [Illustration: A RULING PASSION.--_Mr. Meenister MacGlucky_ (_of the Free Kirk, after having given way more than usual to an expression "a wee thing strong"--despairingly_). "Oh! Aye! Ah, w-e-el! I'll hae ta gie 't up!" _Mr. Elder MacNab._ "Wha-at, man, gie up gowf?" _Mr. Meenister MacGlucky._ "Nae, nae! Gie up the meenistry!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A POSER.--"Farmers always grumbling? Well, supposin' your pigs were down wi' th' fever, an' your sheep had got th' influenza, if your crops were drownded in eighteen inches o' water, an' your rent were overdue--what would you do?" "I? I'd give it up and start a golf club!"] * * * * * [Illustration: INGRATITUDE _Brown._ "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!" _Smith._ "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither of them recognises me now!"] * * * * * GOLF (_As "Put" by D. Crambo Junior._) [Illustration: "Putting" on the "links" The "tee" and the "caddie" A showy manner of handling the "clubs" A full drive A beautiful "iron" shot The "spoon" The "cleek" "Holed out"] * * * * * [Illustration: A MORNING PERFORMANCE] * * * * * [Illustration: FORE! "Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term am affin'd to love the Moor." [_Othello_, Act I., Sc. 1.] ] * * * * * VI. 'Onnesty is the best pollicy, and, 'Evin knows, 'Enery Wilks 'as allus tried 'is levil best to live up to them golden words. But I reckon there is certain excepshuns to the cast-iron 'onnesty of all of us, and every yumin being 'as 'is little weakness. Mine is golf balls. Tips is well enuff in their way, and I 'ave nuthing at all to say agin them, but the present of a good ball is far more pleesing to the 'art of 'Enery Wilks. Praps it's becos of 'is allmost inkonquerabul pride which shrinks at times from taking munney from them 'oom 'e feels to be 'is equils or hinfeeriors; or praps it grattifies 'is artistick nachure to be given the himplements of that great sience which 'e onderstands so well. Any'ow golf balls is my temptashun, and one which once or twice in the course of my 'onnerabul kareer I 'ave allowed meself to yeeld to. Some golfers will ercashunally 'and you tuppence or an 'arf-used ball, wif a jenial word of thanks for your attenshuns which is worth more to a proud nachure than the gift itself. And there's uthers 'oo never think of doing nuthink of the sort. Among _them_ is Mister Schwabstein, 'oo is not French or Scotch, as you might think from 'is name, but German, wiv praps a touch of Jentile. 'E's a man what catches the eye on the links, it being 'is constant and hannoying 'abbit to were a peaked yotting cap, large specks, and a white silk coat which was once a good deal whiter. An egsellent sort of person, I dessay, in the 'ome sircle, but 'ardly what you'd call a brillyent success upon the links. They say as 'ow 'e 'as more munney than 'e ritely knows what to do wiv, but I fancy 'e's made it by never giving any of it away. 'Owever, 'Enery Wilks 'as done 'is best to put that rite. Let me diskribe to you a rarnd which 'e played the uther day wiv Mister 'Erminius Brellett, our litterry member, 'oo allus seems to go out of 'is way to play wiv kurious people. I 'ave taken Mister Schwabstein in charge before, but never 'ave I seen 'is pecooliarities so noticeabul as on that day. 'E took the 'onner, and for about three minutes 'e addressed the ball wiv 'is 'uge, thick, ugly driver, which 'as always rarsed my perfessional hindignashun. 'E swung at last, quite slow like, but wiv all 'is great weight and strength piled into it. I shall never know egsackly what 'e did, becos the tees was dry, and for the moment I was 'arf blinded by the dust. But there was a thud and a krackling snap, and two things was flying through the thick, dusty air. Them two missils was the ball and the 'ead of the driver, and they fell togevver thirty yards from the tee. 'E said somethink which I couldn't catch and didn't want to, and walked rarnd in a slow sircle, smiling to 'isself. 'E's a man 'oo allus smiles. It often seems to me that it is 'is misforchune. Then Mister Brellett took one of 'is yusual springing drives, which 'appened to come off, and 'e won that fust 'ole on 'is head. Mister Schwabstein kontrived to redooce 'is brassey to fragmints at the second 'ole; and after that he took out 'is niblick, and nuthing wouldn't perswade 'im to put it back. 'E drove wiv that niblick, and 'e played 'is many shots through the green wiv it. And the way that thick strong niblick eat into the turf was enuff to brake the 'art of 'Enery Wilks. We moved slowly forward, leaving be'ind us a line of crewel deep kassims, which nuthink wouldn't fill up. And 'is stile of bunker play was equilly distrucktive. 'Is noshun of getting out was to distroy the wall of the bunker wiv reppeated blows, and then to force 'is ball throo the rewings. I wouldn't 'ave belleeved that meer wood and iron could 'ave done the work that that one German niblick did wivout turning an 'air. 'E only smiled 'is slow smile when Mister Brellett or meself venchured a remmonstrance, and 'e would never pick up 'is ball. 'E persevered wiv each 'ole until at last 'e 'ad pushed the ball into the tin, and then 'e would turn and pat my 'ead wiv 'is large 'and. After the fust time I jenerally dodged, and once 'e turned and patted Mister Brellett's 'ead by accerdent. Like most litterry jents, the latter is rather touchy, and there was neerly trouble; but some'ow, thanks to Mister Schwabstein's apparent onconshusness of offense, it was erverted. At the thirteenth 'ole Mister Brellett was five up. Mister Schwabstein put down a new ball, wiv a sort of groan, and pulled it wiv 'is niblick right rarnd into the rough. For a long two minnutes we 'unted 'igh and low, but nowhere could we find that ball. If I'd seen it I would 'ave handed it over at once, sich being my boundin dooty. But I never did see it. There was jest one little place in that rough where some'ow it didn't seem worth while looking. We 'ad to erbandon it at last; and Mister Schwabstein lost the 'ole and the match. Later in the day I wandered down on a sort of ferlorn 'ope to that bit of rough, and kuriously enuff I walked bang on to that ball. There was severil courses open to me. I might 'ave 'anded it over to the orthorities, or I might 'ave kep' it as a memmentoe of Mister Schwabstein's unfaling jenerosity and kortesy. But 'Enery Wilks didn't see 'is way to doing either of them two things. 'E jest disposed of that fine new ball to the very best hadvantage. * * * * * GOLFING NOTES "Denmark is the latest of the Continental nations to receive golf."--_The Tatler._ [Illustration: But golf must have flourished at Denmark in Hamlet's time, judging by the above reproduction of a very ancient mural decoration which has just come to light. See also quotation _Hamlet_, Act II., Scene 2:--" ... drives; in rage, strikes wide!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ENCOURAGEMENT.--_Professional Golfer_ (_in answer to anxious question_). "Weel, no, sir, at your time o' life, ye can never hope to become a _player_; but if ye practise hard for three years, ye may be able to tell good play from bad when ye see it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Bertie_ (_to caddie, searching for lost ball_). "What are you looking there for? Why, I must have driven it fifty yards further!" _Diplomatic Caddie._ "But sometimes they hit a stone, sir, and bounce back a terrible distance!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Hand._ "Ah, I heard you'd joined. Been round the links yet?" _New Hand._ "Oh, yes. Went yesterday." _Old Hand._ "Whot did you go round in?" _New Hand._ "Oh, my ordinary clothes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: GOLFING AMENITIES. (_Overheard on a course within 100 miles of Edinburgh_).--_Hopeless Duffer_ (_who continually asks his caddy the same question, with much grumbling at the non-success of his clubs_). "And what shall I take now?" _His Unfortunate Partner_ (_whose match has been lost and game spoilt, at last breaking out_). "What'll ye tak noo! The best thing ye can tak is the fower fifteen for Edinburgh!"] * * * * * THE PEDANTRY OF SPORT.--_First Golf Maniac._ I played a round with Captain Bulger the other day. _Second G.M._ When did you get to know him? _First G.M._ Oh, about the end of the Gutty Ball period. * * * * * [Illustration: _Cheerful Beginner_ (_who has just smashed the Colonel's favourite driver_). "Oh, now I see why you have to carry so many clubs!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Golfer] TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE! (_Song of the Golf Enthusiast. After Thomas Moore_) AIR--"_Thee, thee, only thee._" The dawn of morn, the daylight's sinking, Shall find me on the Links, and thinking, Of Tee, Tee, only Tee! When rivals meet upon the ground, The Putting-green's a realm enchanted, Nay, in Society's giddy round My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted By Tee, Tee, only Tee! For that at early morn I waken, And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon, For Tee, Tee, only Tee! I'm game to start all in the dark, To the Links hurrying--resting never. The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark, I halt not, heed not, hastening ever To Tee, Tee, only Tee! Of chilly fog I am no funker, I'll brave the very biggest bunker, For Tee, Tee, only Tee! A spell that nought on earth can break Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be _spoken_; But late I'll sleep, and early wake, Of loyalty be this my token, To Tee, Tee, only Tee! * * * * * Golf caddies are now very much in the public eye. The education of some of them is certainly not all that it should be. "Here's an honour for us!" cried one of them excitedly the other day, as he pointed to a paragraph in the paper headed, "King Alfonso visits Cadiz." * * * * * THE SCIENCE OF GOLF [A certain make of field-glasses is advertised just now as "suitable for golf-players, enabling them before striking to select a favourable spot for the descent of their ball." There can be little doubt that this brilliant hint will be further developed, with some such results as those outlined in the following anticipation.] As I told Jones when he met me at the clubhouse, it was a year or more since I had last played, so the chances were that I should be a bit below form. Besides, I was told that the standard of play had been so raised---- "Raised? I should just think it has!" said Jones. "Why, a year ago they played mere skittles--not what you could properly call golf. Got your clubs? Come along then. Queer old-fashioned things they are, too! And you're never going out without your theodolite? "Well," I said with considerable surprise, "the fact is, I haven't got one. What do you use it for?" "Taking levels, of course. And--bless me, you've no inflater, or glasses--not even a wind-gauge! Shall I borrow some for you?--Oh, just as you like, but you won't be able to put up much of a game without them." "Does your caddie take all those things?" I asked, pointing to the curious assortment of machinery which Jones had put together. "My caddies do," he corrected. "No one takes less than three nowadays. Good; there's only one couple on the first tee, so we shall get away in half an hour or so." "I should hope so!" I remarked. "Do you mean that it will be half an hour before those men have played two shots?" "There or thereabouts. Simkins is a fast player--wonderful head for algebra that man has--so it may be a shade less. Come and watch him; then you'll see what golf is!" And indeed I watched him with much interest. First he surveyed the country with great care through a field-glass. Then he squinted along a theodolite at a distant pole. Next he used a strange instrument which was, Jones told me, a wind-gauge, and tapped thoughtfully at a pocket-barometer. After that he produced paper and pencil, and was immersed apparently in difficult sums. Finally, he summoned one of his caddies, who carried a metal cylinder. A golf ball was connected to this by a piece of india-rubber tubing, and a slight hissing noise was heard. "Putting in the hydrogen," explained Jones. "Everything depends upon getting the right amount. New idea? Not very; even a year ago you must have seen pneumatic golf balls--filled with compressed air? Well, this is only an obvious improvement. There, he's going to drive now." And this he did, using a club unlike anything I had seen before. Then he surveyed the putting-green--about half a mile away--through his glasses, and remarked that it was a fairish shot, the ball being within three inches of the hole. His companion, who went through the same lengthy preliminaries, was less fortunate. In a tone of considerable disgust he announced that he had over-driven the hole by four hundred yards. "Too much hydrogen," murmured Jones, "or else he got his formulæ muddled. Well, we can start now. Shall I lead the way?" I begged him to do so. He in turn surveyed the country, consulted instruments, did elaborate sums, inflated his ball. "Now," he said, at length settling into his stance, "now I'll show you." And then he missed the ball clean. ... Of course he ought not to have used such language, and yet it was a sort of relief to find _something_ about the game which was entirely unchanged. * * * * * [Illustration: A LAST RESORT.--_Miss Armstrong_ (_who has foozled the ball six times with various clubs_). "And which of the sticks am I to use now?" _Weary Caddie._ "Gie it a bit knock wi' the bag!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Caddie_ (_in stage whisper to Biffin, who is frightfully nervous_). "Don't you get nervous, sir. It's all right. I've told every one of 'em you can't play!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Fitzfoozle_ (_a beginner, who is "teaching" a lady on the men's links, and loses a club_). "Pardon me, sir. Have you seen a lady's club anywhere?" _Admiral Peppercorn_ (_very irate at being delayed, wishes ladies would play on their own course_). "No, sir, but there's a goose club at the 'Pig and Whistle,' I believe. Try that!"] * * * * * ROYAL AND ANCIENT RECORDS.--The _Glasgow Evening Times_ displayed the following headings on the occasion of His Majesty's visit to North Berwick:-- VISIT TO THE GOLF COURSE. A DRIVE THROUGH THE TOWN. This, of course, constitutes a new record, the old one standing at about 330 yards. * * * * * THE GOLFER'S FRIEND AFTER LONG DRIVES--The Tea-Caddy. * * * * * GOLF MOTTO.--The "Hole" hog or none. * * * * * [Illustration: _Golfer, whose ball has lodged under stone, has had several unsuccessful shots, and finally, with a tremendous stroke, smashed his club._ _Old Man._ "You put me in moind of my old jackass." _Golfer._ "What d'you mean, you idiot?" _Old Man._ "Yer've got more strength than knowledge!"] * * * * * THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN (_After Tennyson_) Golf! Golf! Golf! By the side of the sounding sea; And I would that my ears had never Heard aught of the "links" and the "tee." Oh, well for the man of my heart, That he bets on the "holes" and the play; Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries The "clubs," and earns his pay. He puts his red coat on, And he roams on the sandy hill; But oh! for the touch of that golfer's hand, That the "niblick" wields with a will. Golf! Golf! Golf! Where the "bunkers" vex by the sea; But the days of Tennis and Croquet Will never come back to me! * * * * * VIRGIL ON GOLF.--"Miscueruntque herbas et non innoxia verba." _Georgics_, 3, 283. * * * * * TO CORRESPONDENTS.--"An Inexperienced Golfer" writes to inquire whether what he has heard about "the Tee Duty" will in any way affect the "caddies." * * * * * [Illustration: WILLING TO COMPENSATE.--_Mrs. Lightfoot._ "Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Sharp--don't drive yet. My husband is still on the green." _Mr. Sharp._ "Never mind. I'll risk it. For if I _do_ bowl him over, why, I'm ready to replace him any time!"] * * * * * CAPABLE CADDIES Rumour has it that a movement is on foot amongst a certain section of the golfing public to ensure that for the future all caddies on English links shall be compelled to furnish satisfactory proof that they are physically and morally qualified for the porterage and cleaning of clubs, and acquainted with the more rudimentary principles of the game. To this end, it is reported, an entrance examination paper is in course of preparation, in which individuals aspiring to official recognition as caddies will be required to obtain a percentage of at least eighty marks. The following questions are said to have been already drafted:-- 1. Write your name, legibly if possible, in the top right-hand corner of the sheet. (Do not trouble to insert your nickname, as it is a matter of indifference to the examiners whether you are locally known as "Tiger," "Ginger," or "Bill Bailey.") 2. State your age. If this is less than six, or more than seventy-five years, you may omit the remaining questions and retire at once from the examination. 3. Are you married or single? Give reasons for your answer. 4. Illustrate the finer points of distinction between (_a_) a niblick and a gutty; (_b_) a bye and a bulger. 5. Are you a Protectionist or a Total Abstainer? 6. Rewrite the following passage, correcting anything that may strike you as an error or an incongruity:--"In an 18-hole match, X., a scratch player with a handicap of 20, stood dormy 12 at the 17th hole, but while half-way through the final green was unfortunate enough to get badly bunkered behind the tee-box. Being required to play 'two more' to his opponent Y., who had laid himself dead in 6, he only played one of them, thus holing out in 5, and securing a victory by the narrow margin of 4 up and 7 to play." 7. Given that the regulation charge for a round is a shilling, would you consider yourself justified in attempting to exact an extra half-crown for club-cleaning from a player in spectacles, with a handicap of 27 and a wistful expression? (Candidates are advised to say "No" to this question.) * * * * * [Illustration: STIMIED.--_Golfer._ "Fore!" _Tinker._ "What?" _Golfer._ "Get out of the way!" _Tinker._ "What for?" _Golfer._ "I might hit you." _Tinker._ "Thee'd best _not_, young man!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your clubs, sir?" _Jones_ (_who has chartered a small boy at a cheap rate_). "No, I've got a caddy." _Licensed Caddy._ "Carry your caddy, sir?"] * * * * * "AS SHE IS SPOKE."--(_In the train from Nice._) _Enthusiastic Golfer_ (_to friend, as train stops at Golfe-Juan_): "Oh, here we are! This must be the place. '_Golfe_,' golf. '_Juan_,' _jeu_, play, you know. Yes, this is evidently the station for the links!" * * * * * THE NATURAL CREST OF EVERY GOLF CLUB.--The lynx. * * * * * FIVE-O'CLOCK "TEES."--Suburban golf. [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION.--_Laden and perspiring stranger._ "Could you kindly tell me how far it is to the station?" _Sportsome Native._ "About a full drive, two brassies and a putt."] * * * * * THE GOLF WIDOWS (_After E.B. Browning_) Do you hear the widows weeping, O my brothers, Wedded but a few brief years? They are writing home complaining to their mothers, And their ink's suffused with tears. The young lads are playing in the meadows, The young babes are sleeping in the nest; The young men are flirting in the shadows, The young maids are helping them, with zest. But the young golf widows, O my brothers, Are weeping bitterly, They are weeping in the playtime of the others, While you're swiping from the tee. Do you ask their grazing widows in their sorrow Why their tears are falling so? "Oh--yesterday--to-day again--to-morrow-- To the links you ALWAYS go! Your golf 'shop,'" they say, "is very dreary, You speak of nothing else from week to week; A really patient wife will grow a-weary Of talk about a concentrated cleek." Yes, the young golf widows, O my brothers, Do you ask them why they weep? They are longing to be back beside their mothers, While you're playing in a sweep. And well may the widows weep before you When your nightly round is done; They care nothing for a stymie, or the glory Gained by holing out in one. "How long," they say, "how long in careless fashion Will you stand, to drive the Dyke, upon our hearts, Trample down with nailèd heel our early passion, Turning homeward only when the light departs? You can hear our lamentations many a mile hence, Can you hearken without shame, When our mourning curseth deeper in the silence Than a strong man off his game?" * * * * * [Illustration: "---- HE WOULD HAVE SAID" _A beautiful stroke missed! A favourite club broken! No words to bring relief!_ _American Friend (in the background, after a long pause)._ "Wa'al, Brown, I guess that's the most profane silence I've ever listened to!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A BEAUTIFUL DRIVE."] * * * * * [Illustration: SUBTLE.--"Aren't you a little off your game this morning, Mr. Smythe?" "Oh, I'm not playing this morning, Miss Bertha. Only just amusing myself."] * * * * * SHOULD MARRIED MEN BE ALLOWED TO PLAY GOLF? (_Extract from a Golfer's Diary_) _July 21._--Played Robinson, who would never win a match if it wasn't for his wife. Think that I shall start a links for bachelors only. (Mem.--Suggest to the committee that no married man is allowed to play golf in the mornings or afternoons.) Hole I. I played perfectly, holing beautiful long putt. Robinson hopeless. One up. Hole II. R. bunkered. Entirely his own fault. Two up. Hole III. Holed my approach, allowing for both wind and slope of green; really a grand shot. Caught sight of Mrs. R. as I walked to the next tee. Three up. Hole IV. Thought that I might have to speak to Mrs. R. at any minute. Missed my drive in consequence. Disgusting! Two up. Hole V. R. seemed to be looking for his wife instead of attending to what I was saying. My drive lay on a buttercup, and who the deuce can be expected to play off buttercups? One up. Hole VI. Stymied R. quite perfectly. He pretended to think that we were not playing stymies. We were. Two up. Hole VII. Saw Mrs. R. looking aimlessly out to sea. These loafing ladies are enough to put any man off his game. Why can't they do something? One up. Hole VIII. R. may say what he likes, but he waved to his wife. I was also annoyed by his stockings, which I should think Mrs. R. knitted. The sort of useless thing she would do. All square. Hole IX. Got well away from Mrs. R., and though my caddy coughed as I was approaching I laid my ball dead. Beautiful shot. One up at the turn. Hole X. Had the hole in my pocket when R. laid his approach dead. Ridiculous luck. All square. Hole XI. Just as I was driving I saw Mrs. R. still looking at the sea. I complained, but R. took no notice. At any rate she cost me the hole. One down. Hole XII. Vardon couldn't have played better than I did, and even R. had to say "Good shot!" twice. All square. Hole XIII. As I was putting I had a feeling in my back that Mrs. R. had arrived at last. Missed my putt and only halved the hole. Hole XIV. Couldn't see Mrs. R. anywhere. Wondered where on earth she had got to, or whether she was drowned. Of course I lost the hole. One down. Hole XV. A little dispute, as R. claimed that his ball--which was under a wheelbarrow--was on ground under repair. Absolutely foolish, and I told him so. All square. Hole XVI. Made a perfect drive, approach and putt. Looked everywhere for Mrs. R. and couldn't see her. One up. Hole XVII. Completely put off by wondering when I should see Mrs. R. Most unfair. Told my caddy I should report him to the committee. All square. Hole XVIII. Saw Mrs. R. on a hill half a mile away. Got on my nerves. R. said, "Halloa, there's my wife! I thought she wasn't coming out this morning." Lost the hole and the match, and told the secretary that R.'s handicap ought to be reduced. * * * * * [Illustration: "SHE WAS NOT A GOLFER" _Husband._ "What on earth has happened to my driver?" _Wife._ "Oh, I couldn't find the hammer, so I used that thing. It wasn't much use, though."] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR VILLAGE The Golf-Club in full swing.] * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "Why, Mr. Smith, you don't mean to say you have taken up golf?" _Smith (age 78)._ "Yes. I found I was getting a bit too old for lawn tennis!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ERRATIC _Pedestrian (anxious for his safety)._ "Now, which way are you going to hit the ball?" _Worried Beginner._ "Only wish to goodness I knew myself!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: SWEET SIMPLICITY _Diffident Man (who does not know to how much of an ingénue he is talking)._ "Have you been out long, Miss Grace?" _Miss Grace (consulting her wrist-strap)._ "Oh, about three-quarters of an hour. You see we were asked to come punctually."] * * * * * LINES ON THE LINKS Hard by the biggest hazard on the course, Beneath the shelter of a clump of gorse, Secure from shots from off the heel or toe, I watch the golfers as they come and go. I see the fat financier, whose "dunch" Suggests too copious draughts of "fizz" at lunch; While the lean usher, primed with ginger beer, Surmounts the yawning bunker and lies clear. I see a member of the House of Peers Within an ace of bursting into tears, When, after six stout niblick shots, his ball Lies worse than if he had not struck at all. But some in silent agony endure Misfortunes no "recovery" can cure, While others, even men who stand at plus, Loudly ejaculate the frequent cuss. An aged Anglo-Indian oft I see Who waggles endlessly upon the tee, Causing impatience of the fiercest kind To speedy couples pressing from behind. Familiar also is the red-haired Pat Who plays in rain or shine without a hat, And who, whenever things are out of joint, "Sockets" his iron shots to cover point. Before ten thirty, also after five, The links with lady players are alive, At other seasons, by the rules in force, Restricted to their own inferior course. One matron, patient in her way as Job, I've seen who nine times running missed the globe; But then her daughter, limber maid, can smite Close on two hundred yards the bounding Kite. * * * Dusk falls upon the bracken, bents and whins; The careful green-keeper removes the pins, To-morrow being Sunday, and the sward Is freed from gutty and from rubber-cored. Homeward unchecked by cries of "Fore!" I stroll, Revolving many problems in my soul, And marvelling at the mania which bids Sexagenarians caracole like kids; Which causes grave and reverend signiors To talk for hours of nothing but their scores, And worse, when baffled by a little ball, On the infernal deities to call; Which brightens overworked officials' lives; Which bores to tears their much-enduring wives; Which fosters the consumption of white port, And many other drinks, both long and short. Who then, in face of functions so diverse, Will call thee, golf, a blessing or a curse? Or choose between the Premier's predilection And Rosebery's deliberate rejection? Not mine to judge: I merely watch and note Thy votaries as they grieve or as they gloat, Uncertain whether envy or amaze Or pity most is prompted by the craze. * * * * * [Illustration: _Foreigner (who has "pulled" badly, and hit his partner in a tender spot),_ "Mille pardons, monsieur! My clob--he deceived me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tommy._ "I say, do you know who's winning?" _Ethel._ "I think uncle must be--I heard him offer to carry auntie's clubs."] * * * * * THE HOLE CONCERN SCENE--_Any golf-club where an alteration of the course is in prospect._ TIME--_Any time, from dawn to dusk._ CHARACTERS--_Any number of_ Members, _plus (on this occasion) an_ Inoffensive Stranger. _First Member._ (_catching sight of_ Inoffensive Stranger). Look here, Nobbs, you're an impartial judge, we'll have your opinion. What I say is this. If you take the present 4th hole and make it the 13th, putting the tee back ten yards behind the 12th, and carry the lower green fifteen yards to the right, and play the 2nd, 5th and 16th holes in reverse order, keeping clear of the ditch outside the 4th green, you'll bring---- _Second Member._ Oh, that's rubbish. Anybody with a grain of sense would see that you'd utterly ruin the course that way. My plan is to take the first three, the 11th, and the 14th--you understand, Nobbs?--(_slowly and emphatically_) the first three, the 11th, and the 14th. _Inoffensive Stranger._ Yes? _Second M._ (_quickly_). And leave 'em as they are. Leave 'em just exactly as they are. Then you do away with the next, make the 3rd into the 7th, and---- _I.S._ (_horribly confused_). But---- _Third M._ Yes, I know--you're thinking of the crossing from the 14th. And you're perfectly right. Simply fatal, that would be; too dangerous altogether. What we really want is a 2nd hole, and my plan would make a splendid one--really sporting, and giving these gentlemen who fancy their play a bit to do. _Second M._ Don't know about _that_. Tried that patent 2nd hole of yours this morning out of curiosity. Holed it with my third, and might have done it in two, with a bit of luck. _Third M._ (_whistles expressively_). Oh, _come_! Splendid player you are, and all that--handicap's fifteen, isn't it?--but there aren't _many_ of us who would stand here and say calmly that we'd done a hole of 420 yards in three! _Really_, you know---- _Second M._ 420 yards? 130, you mean. _Third M._ (_defiantly_). 420, if an inch. _Second M._ But look here, you told me yourself only yesterday---- _Third M._ (_slightly taken aback_). Oh, ah, yes. I understand now. I _did_ think, at one time, of making the 2nd a short hole. But this is quite a different idea. Miles better, in fact. It flashed across me quite suddenly at dinner-time last night. Sort of inspiration--kind of thing you can't account for--but there it _is_, you see. _Fourth M._ Well, what you fellows can argue about like this beats me altogether. There's only one _possible_ way of improving the course, and I showed you the plan of it last week. It won't be adopted--not likely. So good, and simple, and inexpensive that the committee won't look at it. Couldn't expect anything else. Anyhow (_with an air of unappreciated heroism_)--I've done _my_ best for the club! (_Sighs heavily, and picks up a newspaper._) _Fifth M._ (_brutally_). Oh, _we_ know all about that blessed plan of yours. Now, I'm open to conviction. Mind you, I don't condemn anybody else's scheme. All that _I_ say is, that if a man doesn't see that my plan is the best, he's a dunder-headed jackass, and that's all about it. What do _you_ think, Mr. Nobbs? _I.S._ (_rather nervously_). Well, really--I hardly know--perhaps---- _First M._ (_compassionately_). Ah, it's those whins below the 17th that are bothering _you_. But if you exchange the 8th and the 10th---- _Second M._ (_abruptly_). Rot! (_The battle continues. The_ Inoffensive Stranger _stealthily withdraws._ (_Curtain._)) [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: A TOWN MOUSE _Jones._ "Well, my little man, what are _you_ thinking about?" _London Boy_ (_who has never been out of Whitechapel before_). "I'm thinkin' it's time yer mother put yer into _trousers_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A MARTYR TO APPEARANCES _Young Lady._ "I say, caddie, what _does_ Mr. McFadjock do with all these clubs?" _Caddie (wofully preparing to follow his tyrant)._ "He makes me carry them!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LINK(S)ED SWEETNESS _The Real Caddie_ (_audibly_). "This club is going to ruin--allowing all these ladies to join!" _Miss Sharp._ "They evidently can't get gentlemen!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sanguine Golfer._ "Is that on the 'carpet,' caddie?" _Caddie_ (_as the ball swerves into cottage window_). "Yus, sir; front parlour, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OLD TYPE OF LINK MAN. Supper time.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE NEW TYPE OF LINK MAN. Tee time.] * * * * * "A THREE-CARD LAY" Long ago in Sweet September, Oh! the day I well remember, I was playing on the Links against the winsomest of maids; In a "cup" my ball was lying, And the "divots" round were flying, And with eyes-a-dance she said to me, "Your iron's the King of Spades!" Now a foe, on such occasion, Of the feminine persuasion, Fair and twenty to the game a sort of subtlety imparts; And I felt its potent glamour, And I answered with a stammer Shy and nervous, "It was rash of me to play the Queen of Hearts!" Any further explanation Of my inward admiration Very likely had exposed me to the deadliest of snubs! But a snigger from behind me Just in time came to remind me Of the presence of my caddie--and I blessed the Knave of Clubs! * * * * * [Illustration: GLORIOUS UNCERTAINTY SCENE--_At the Golf Club._ _She._ "Good-bye, Major. What's the programme for to-morrow?" _The Major._ "Oh, either skating or punting, according to the weather."] * * * * * GOLF AND GOOD FORM (_By the Expert Wrinkler_) Is it good form to golf? That is a question I have been so repeatedly asked of late by correspondents that I can no longer postpone my answer. Now to begin with, I fear there is no doubt that golf is a little on the down grade--socially. Golf is no longer the monopoly of the best set, and I am told that artisans' clubs have actually been started in certain districts. The other day, as I was travelling in Lancashire, a man in the same compartment--with the most shockingly ill-cut trousers I ever saw--said to a friend, "I like 'Oylake, it's 'ealthy, and it's 'andy and within 'ail of 'ome." And it turned out that the chief attraction to him at Hoylake was the golf. Such an incident as this speaks volumes. But I always try to see both sides of every question, and there is unquestionably a great deal to be said in favour of golf. It was undoubtedly played by kings in the past, and at the present moment is patronised by grand dukes, dukes, peers and premiers. * * * * * [Illustration: BETWEEN FRIENDS.--_Mr. Spooner, Q.C._ (_a Neophyte_). "This is my ball, I think?" _Colonel Bunting_ (_an adept_). "By Jove, that's a jolly good 'lie'!" _Mr. Spooner._ "Really, Bunting, we're very old friends, of course. But I do think you might find a pleasanter way of pointing out a perfectly unintentional mistake!"] * * * * * GOLF AND DRESS. But the real and abiding attraction of golf is that it mercifully gives more opportunities to the dressy man than any other pastime. Football and cricket reduce everyone to a dead level in dress, but in golf there is any amount of scope for individuality in costume. Take the case of colour alone. The other day at Finsbury Park station I met a friend on his way home from a day's golfing, and I noticed that he was sporting the colours of no fewer than five different clubs. On his cap was the badge of the Camberwell Crusaders; his tie proved his membership of the Bickley Authentics; his blazer was that of the Tulse Hill Nondescripts; his brass waistcoat buttons bore the monogram of the Gipsy Hill Zingari; the roll of his knickerbocker stockings was embroidered with the crest of the Kilburn Incogs. The effect of the whole was, if I may be allowed the word, spicy in the extreme. Of course it is not everyone who can carry off such a combination, or who can afford to belong to so many first-class clubs. But my friend is a very handsome man, and has a handicap of _plus_ two at Tooting Bec. KNICKERBOCKERS OR TROUSERS. The burning question which divides golfers into two hostile camps is the choice between knickerbockers and trousers. Personally I favour the latter, but it is only right to explain that ever since I was gaffed in the leg by my friend Viscount ---- when out cub-sticking with the Cottesmore I have never donned knickers again. To a man with a really well-turned calf and neat ankles I should say, wear knickerbockers whenever you get a chance. The late Lord Septimus Boulger, who had very thick legs, and calves that seemed to begin just above the ankles, used to wear knickerbockers because he said it put his opponent off his play. If I may say so without offence, he was a real funny chap, though a careless dresser, and I am told that his father, old Lord Spalding, has never been the same man since his death. STOCKINGS AND CALVES. Another advantage of knickerbockers is the scope they afford for the display of stylish stockings. A very good effect is produced by having a little red tuft, which should appear under the roll which surmounts the calf. The roll itself, which should always have a smart pattern, is very useful in conveying the impression that the calf is more fully developed than it really is. I noticed the other day at Hanger Hill that Sir Arlington Ball was playing in a pair of very full knickers, almost of the Dutch cut, and that his stockings--of a plain brown colour--had no roll such as I have described. Then of course Sir Arlington has an exceptionally well-modelled calf, and when in addition a man has £30,000 a year he may be allowed a certain latitude in his dress and his conduct generally. BOOTS AND SHOES. The question of footwear at golf is one of considerable difficulty, but there is a general feeling in favour of shoes. My friend the Tooting Bec _plusser_ affects a very showy sort of shoe with a wide welt and a sort of fringe of narrow strips of porpoise hide, which fall over the instep in a miniature cataract. As regards the rival merits of india rubber studs on the soles and of nails, I compromise by a judicious mixture of both. If a waistcoat be worn it should be of the brightest possible colour. I saw Lord Dunching the other day at Wimbledon Park in a charming waistcoat. The groundwork was a rich spinach green with discs of Pompeian red, and the buttons were of brass with his monogram in blue and white enamel in the centre. As it was a cold day he wore a mustard-coloured Harris tweed Norfolk jacket and a sealskin cap. Quite a large crowd followed him, and I heard afterwards that he had raised the record for the links to 193. QUALIFICATIONS FOR A VALET. One thing is certain--and that is we cannot all be first-class players. Personally, owing to the accident I have already referred to, I hardly ever play at all, but I always make it a point, if I am going on a visit to any place in the country where I know there are no golf links, to take a few niblicks with me. A bag for clubs only costs a few shillings, and it looks well amongst your other paraphernalia on a journey. In engaging a valet again, always remember to ascertain whether he knows the rules of the "royal and ancient game." I shall never forget my humiliation when down at Lord Springvale's. As I was taking part in a foursome with the Hon. Agrippa Bramble, Lady Horace Hilton, and the second Mrs. Bunkeray, I got stuck in a furze-bush and my man handed me a putter. I could have cried with vexation. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. CAVENDISH, CHATSWORTH.--As to the treatment of divots, different methods are recommended by different authorities. My plan, and I am not aware of a better, is to put them in my pocket when the caddie is not looking. When thoroughly dried they form an excellent peat for burning, or can be used for bedding out rhododendrons. "NIL DESPERANDUM," BECKENHAM.--The best stimulant during match play is a beaten-up egg in a claret glass of sloe gin. The eggs are best carried in the pocket of your club-bag. A. FLUBB, WOKING.--No, it is not good form to pay your caddie in stamps. ALCIBIADES, WEMBLEY PARK.--If you must play golf on Sunday, I call it nothing short of hypocritical to go down to the links in a tall hat. * * * * * [Illustration: A HERO "FIN DE SI�CLE."--_Podgers_ (_of Sandboys Golf Club_). "My dear Miss Robinson, golf's the only game nowadays for the _men_. Lawn-tennis is all very well for you _girls_, you know."] * * * * * [Illustration: If you should find a stray bull in possession of the links, and who is fascinated by your little red landmarks, don't try and persuade poor Mr. Littleman to drive him away. He is very plucky--but it isn't golf.] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS FIRST ROUND.--_Caddie_ (_pointing to direction flag_). "You'd better play right on the flag, sir." _Curate._ "Thank you very much. But I have very grave doubts as to my ability to hit such a very small mark at this distance!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EAR BLINKERS.--A suggestion for caddies of tender age in attendance on hot-tempered Anglo-Indian military gentlemen learning golf.] * * * * * [Illustration: EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE.--_Exasperated Amateur_ (_to fore-caddie, who will_ NOT _go on ahead_). "Go along, man. _Do_ get on towards the next green." _Caddie._ "Beg parding, Capting. You won't never get him to go no more than twenty yards ahead. 'E's been used to carrying a flag in front of a steam-roller."] * * * * * LAYS FROM THE LINKS I.--THE HISTORY OF A MATCH. Let A be the Links where I went down to stay, And B the man whom I challenged to play:-- * * * C was the Caddie no golfer's without, D was the Driver I used going "out": E was the Extra loud "Fore!" we both holloa-ed, F was the Foozle which commonly followed: G was the Green which I longed to approach, H was the Hazard which upset the coach: I was B's Iron-shot (he's good for a younker), J was his Joy when I pitched in the bunker. K was the Kodak, that mischief-contriver, L was B's Likeness--on smashing his driver: M was the Moment he found out 'twas taken. N was his Niblick around my head shaken: O was the Oil poured on waters so stormy, P was the Putt which, next hole, made me dormy. Q was the Quality--crowds came to look on: R the Result they were making their book on: S was the Stymie I managed to lay, T was Two more, which it forced him to play; U was the Usual bad work he let fly, V was the Vengeance he took in the bye. * * * W the Whisky that night: I must own X was its quantity--wholly unknown; Y were the Yarns which hot whisky combine with, Z was the Zest which we sang "_Auld Lang Syne_". * * * * * [Illustration: _Short-sighted Lady Golfer._ "Hi! have you seen a golf-ball fall anywhere here, please?" [_Victim regards ball with remaining eye._] ] * * * * * II.--A TOAST. Fill up your glasses! Bumpers round Of Scotland's mountain dew! With triple clink my toast you'll drink, The Links I pledge with you: The Links that bind a million hearts, There's magic in their name, The Links that lie 'neath every sky, And the Royal and Ancient Game! A health to all who "miss the globe," The special "stars" who don't; May thousands thrive to tee and drive As Jehu's self was wont! No tee without a caddie--then The caddies will acclaim! A health, I say, to all who play The Royal and Ancient Game! Long life to all who face the foe, And on the green "lie dead"!-- An envied lot, as all men wot, For gallant "lads in red": Where balls fly fast and iron-shots plough Win medals, trophies, fame; Your watchword "Fore!" One cheer--two more-- For the Royal and Ancient Game! Then "_toe_ and _heel_ it" on the green (You'll make your partner swear), But I'll be bound your dance, a round, With luck will end all square Win, lose, or halve the match--what odds? We love our round the same; Though luck take wing, "the play's the thing," The Royal and Ancient Game! * * * Then, Royal and Ancient Game, accept This tribute lay from me; From me then take, for old sake's sake, This toast--Long life to thee! A long, long life to thee, old friend-- None worthier the name-- With three times three, long life to thee, O Royal and Ancient Game! [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: _Very mild Gentleman_ (_who has failed to hit the ball five times in succession_). "Well ----" _Up-to-date Caddy_ (_producing gramophone charged with appropriate expletives_). "Allow me, sir!" [_Mild Gentleman_ DOES _allow him, and moreover presents him with a shilling for handling the subject in such a masterly manner._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Golfer_ (_to Second Golfer, who is caught in a bunker_). "Well, Jones told me this morning he did this hole yesterday in four." _Second Golfer_ (_who stammers_). "If Jones s-s-said he did it in four, he was a l-l-l-l----" _First Golfer._ "Steady, friend, steady!" _Second Golfer._ "----he was a l-lucky beggar!"] * * * * * GOLF-LAND--HOLE BY HOLE _Match for a suit of oil-skins between Sunny Jack and Dismal Jimmy._ "The rain has beaten all records."--_Daily Papers._ "Play the game."--_Modern motto._ _Hole 1._--Halved in 28. D.J. gets into the current with his 16th (a beauty) and is rescued by life-boat. _Hole 2._--Abandoned. A green-finder with a divining-rod, which is convertible into an umbrella, states that Primitive Baptists are using the green for purposes of total immersion. _Hole 3._--Abandoned. A regatta is found to be taking place in the big bunker. _Hole 4._--Halved in 23. S.J. discovered with life-belt round him which he has stolen from the flag. Reported death of a green-keeper, lost in trying to rescue two caddies from the bunker going to the 11th hole. _Hole 5._--Abandoned out of sympathy with the green-keeper. _Hole 6._--Abandoned. S.J. gets his driver mixed in his life-belt, with the result that his braces burst. D.J. claims hole on the ground that no player may look for a button for more than two minutes. Mr. Vardon, umpiring from balloon, disallows claim. Both players take to canoes. _Hole 7._--D.J.'s canoe upset by body of drowned sheep as he is holing short put. Mr. Vardon decides that corpses are rubs on the green. _Hole 8._--Abandoned, owing to a fight for life-belt. _Hole 9._--Halved in 303, Mr. Vardon keeping the score. _Hole 10._--D.J. saves S.J.'s life. Hole awarded to S.J. by Mr. Vardon out of sympathy. S.J. one up. _Hole 11._--S.J. saves D.J.'s life and receives the Humane Society's monthly medal and the hole from Mr. Vardon as a reward of courage. S.J. two up. _Hole 12._--Abandoned. Collection made for the widows of drowned golfers, which realises ninepence. S.J. subsequently returns from a long, low dive. _Holes 13 and 14._--Won by D.J. in the absence of S.J., who attends funeral water-games in honour of the green-keeper. All square. _Holes 15 and 16._--Abandoned by mutual consent, whisky being given away by the Society of Free-drinkers. Instant reappearance of the green-keeper. _Holes 17 and 18._--Unrecorded. Mr. Vardon declares the match halved. [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: FORE and AFT] * * * * * [Illustration: _Short-sighted Golfer_ (_having been signalled to come on by lady who has lost her ball_). "Thanks _very_ much. And _would_ you mind driving that sheep away?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Extract from the rules of a local golf club:_--"RULE V.--The committee shall have the power at any time to fill any vacancy in their body."] * * * * * A LESSON IN GOLF "You won't dare!" said I. "There is nothing else for it," said Amanda sternly. "You know perfectly well that we must practise every minute of the time, if we expect to have the least chance of winning. If she _will_ come just now--well!" Amanda cocked her pretty chin in the air, and looked defiant. "But--_Aunt Susannah!_" said I. "It's quite time for you to go and meet her," said Amanda, cutting short my remonstrances; and she rose with an air of finality. My wife, within her limitations, is a very clever woman. She is prompt: she is resolute: she has the utmost confidence in her own generalship. Yet, looking at Aunt Susannah, as she sat--gaunt, upright, and formidable--beside me in the dogcart, I did not believe even Amanda capable of the stupendous task which she had undertaken. She would never dare---- I misjudged her. Aunt Susannah had barely sat down--was, in fact, only just embarking on her first scone--when Amanda rushed incontinently in where I, for one, should have feared to tread. "Dear Aunt Susannah," she said, beaming hospitably, "I'm sure you will never guess how we mean to amuse you while you are here!" "Nothing very formidable, I hope?" said Aunt Susannah grimly. "You'll never, never guess!" said Amanda; and her manner was so unnaturally sprightly that I knew she was inwardly quaking. "We want to teach you--what do you think?" "I think that I'm a trifle old to learn anything new, my dear," said Aunt Susannah. I should have been stricken dumb by such a snub. Not so, however, my courageous wife. "Well--golf!" she cried, with overdone cheerfulness. Aunt Susannah started. Recovering herself, she eyed us with a stony glare which froze me where I sat. "There is really nothing else to do in these wilds, you know," Amanda pursued gallantly, though even she was beginning to look frightened. "And it is such a lovely game. You'll like it immensely." "_What_ do you say it is called?" asked Aunt Susannah in awful tones. "Golf," Amanda repeated meekly; and for the first time her voice shook. "Spell it!" commanded Aunt Susannah. Amanda obeyed, with increasing meekness. "Why do you call it 'goff' if there's an 'l' in it?" asked Aunt Susannah. "I--I'm afraid I don't know," said Amanda faintly. Aunt Susannah sniffed disparagingly. She condescended, however, to inquire into the nature of the game, and Amanda gave an elaborate explanation in faltering accents. She glanced imploringly at me; but I would not meet her eye. "Then you just try to get a little ball into a little hole?" inquired my relative. "And in the fewest possible strokes," Amanda reminded her, gasping. "And--is that all?" asked Aunt Susannah. "Y--yes," said Amanda. "Oh!" said Aunt Susannah. A game described in cold blood sounds singularly insignificant. We both fell into sudden silence and depression. "Well, it doesn't sound _difficult_" said Aunt Susannah. "Oh, yes, I'll come and play at ball with you if you like, my dears." "_Dear_ Auntie!" said Amanda affectionately. She did not seem so much overjoyed at her success, however, as might have been expected. As for me, I saw a whole sea of breakers ahead; but then I had seen them all the time. We drove out to the Links next day. We were both very silent. Aunt Susannah, however, was in good spirits, and deeply interested in our clubs. "What in the world do you want so many sticks for, child?" she inquired of Amanda. "Oh, they are for--for different sorts of ground," Amanda explained feebly; and she cast an agonised glance at our driver, who had obviously overheard, and was chuckling in an offensive manner. We both looked hastily and furtively round us when we arrived. We were early, however, and fortune was kind to us; there was no one else there. "Perhaps you would like to watch us a little first, just to see how the game goes?" Amanda suggested sweetly. "Not at all!" was Aunt Susannah's brisk rejoinder. I've come here to play, not to look on. Which stick----?" "_Club_--they are called clubs," said Amanda. "Why?" inquired Aunt Susannah. "I--I don't know," faltered Amanda. "Do you Laurence?" I did not know, and said so. "Then I shall certainly call them sticks," said Aunt Susannah decisively. "They are not in the least like clubs." "Shall I drive off?" I inquired desperately of Amanda. "Drive off? Where to? Why are you going away?" asked Aunt Susannah. "Besides, you can't go--the carriage is out of sight." "The way you begin is called driving off," I explained laboriously. "Like this." I drove nervously, because I felt her eye upon me. The ball went some dozen yards. "That seems easy enough," said Aunt Susannah. "Give me a stick, child." "Not that end--the _other_ end!" cried Amanda, as our relative prepared to make her stroke with the butt-end. "Dear me! Isn't that the handle?" she remarked cheerfully; and she reversed her club, swung it, and chopped a large piece out of the links. "Where is it gone? Where is it gone?" she exclaimed, looking wildly round. "It--it isn't gone," said Amanda nervously, and pointed to the ball still lying at her feet. "What an extraordinary thing!" cried Aunt Susannah; and she made another attempt, with a precisely similar result. "Give me another stick!" she demanded. "Here, let me choose for myself--this one doesn't suit me. I'll have that flat thing." "But that's a putter," Amanda explained agonisedly. "What's a putter? You said just now that they were all clubs," said Aunt Susannah, pausing. "They are all clubs," I explained patiently. "But each has a different name." "You don't mean to say you give them names like a little girl with her dolls?" cried Aunt Susannah. "Why, what a babyish game it is!" She laughed very heartily. "At any rate," she continued, with that determination which some of her friends call by another name, "I am sure that this will be easier to play with!" She grasped the putter, and in some miraculous way drove the ball to a considerable distance. "Oh, splendid!" cried Amanda. Her troubled brow cleared a little, and she followed suit, with mediocre success. Aunt Susannah pointed out that her ball had gone farther than either of ours, and grasped her putter tenaciously. "It's a better game than I expected from your description," she conceded. "Oh, I daresay I shall get to like it. I must come and practise every day." We glanced at each other in a silent horror of despair, and Aunt Susannah after a few quite decent strokes, triumphantly holed out. "What next?" said she. I hastily arranged her ball on the second tee: but the luck of golf is proverbially capricious. She swung her club, and hit nothing. She swung it again, and hit the ground. "_Why_ can't I do it?" she demanded, turning fiercely upon me. "You keep losing your feet," I explained deferentially. "Spare me your detestable slang terms, Laurence, at least!" she cried, turning on me again like a whirlwind. "If you think I have lost my temper--which is absurd!--you might have the courage to say so in plain English!" "Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't understand----" "Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly games----" "I mean you misunderstood me," I pursued, trembling. "Your foot slipped, and that spoilt your stroke. You should have nails in your boots, as we have." "Oh!" said Aunt Susannah, only half pacified. But she succeeded in dislodging her ball at last, and driving it into a bunker. At the same moment, Amanda suddenly clutched me by the arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she said in a bloodcurdling whisper. "_What_ shall we do? Here is Colonel Bartlemy!" The worst had happened. The hottest-tempered man in the club, the oldest member, the best player, the greatest stickler for etiquette, was hard upon our track; and Aunt Susannah, with a red and determined countenance, was urging her ball up the bunker, and watching it roll back again. "Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest voice, "you had much better take it out." "Is that allowed?" inquired our relative suspiciously. "Oh, you may always do that and lose a stroke!" I assured her eagerly. "I shan't dream of losing a stroke!" said Aunt Susannah, with decision. "I'll get it out of this ditch by fair means, if I have to spend all day over it!" "Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I said, with the calmness of despair. "There is a player behind us----" "Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah; and she returned to her bunker. The Links rose up in a hillock immediately behind us, so that our successor could not see us until he had reached the first hole. I stood with my eye glued to the spot where he might be expected to appear. I saw, as in a nightmare, the scathing remarks that would find their way into the Suggestion Book. I longed for a sudden and easy death. At the moment when Colonel Bartlemy's rubicund face appeared over the horizon, Aunt Susannah, flushed but unconquered, drew herself up for a moment's rest from toil. He had seen her. Amanda shut her eyes. For myself, I would have run away shamelessly, if there had been any place to run to. The Colonel and Aunt Susannah looked hard at each other. Then he began to hurry down the slope, while she started briskly up it. "Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel. "Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah; and they met with effusion. I saw Amanda's eyes open, and grow round with amazed interest. I knew perfectly well that she had scented a bygone love affair, and was already planning the most suitable wedding-garb for Aunt Susannah. A frantic hope came to me that in that case the Colonel's affection might prove stronger than his zeal for golf. They were strolling down to us in a leisurely manner, and the subject of their conversation broke upon my astonished ears. "I'm afraid you don't think much of these Links, after yours," Colonel Bartlemy was saying anxiously. "They are rather new----" "Oh, I've played on many worse," said Aunt Susannah, looking round her with a critical eye. "Let me see--I haven't seen you since your victory at Craigmory. Congratulations!" "Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, evidently much gratified. "You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I hope?" "Exactly what I came for," said Aunt Susannah calmly. "Though I don't know what our ladies will say to playing against the Cranford Champion!" chuckled the Colonel; and then they condescended to become aware of our existence. We had never known before how exceedingly small it is possible to feel. "Aunt Susannah, what am I to say? What fools you must think us!" I murmured miserably to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot looking for his ball. "We are such raw players ourselves--and of course we never dreamt----" Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly manner. "There's an ancient proverb about eggs and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully. "There should be a modern form for golf-balls and aunts--hey, Laurence?" Amanda did not win the prize brooch; but Aunt Susannah did, in spite of an overwhelming handicap, and gave it to her. She does not often wear it--possibly because rubies are not becoming to her: possibly because its associations are too painful. * * * * * [Illustration: THE RETORT COURTEOUS.--(_The Major-General waiting to drive, to girl carrying baby, who blocks the way_). "Now then, hurry on please with that baby." _Girl._ "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there in your knickerbockers an' all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS _From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum._] * * * * * [Illustration: "Anyway, it's better to break one's ---- clubs than to lose one's ---- ---- temper!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.--_Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer's warning call)._ "The whole world wasn't made for golf, sir." _Youngster._ "No; but the links _wis_. 'Fore!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Unenviable position of Mr. Pottles, whose record drive has just landed fairly in the ribs of irascible old Colonel Curry, out for his constitutional canter.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play out of quarry)._ "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably dressed man that is breaking stones!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.] * * * * * [Illustration: GOLF � LA WATTEAU--AND OTHERWISE] * * * * * [Illustration: _Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's "drives")._ "I think I'm shorter than Mr. Simkins?" _Small Caddie (a new hand, greatly flattered at being asked, as he thinks, to judge of their personal appearance)._ "Yes, sir, and fatterer too, sir!" [_Delight of the gallant Major._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: ARRY AT GOLF.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match, and has just lost his ball)._ "Oh, Major, do come and take your horrid ball away from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he must be ruining his teeth!"] * * * * * THE LOST GOLFER [The sharp decline of ping-pong, whose attractions at its zenith seduced many golfers from the nobler sport, has left a marked void in the breasts of these renegades. Some of them from a natural sense of shame hesitate to return to their first love. The conclusion of the following lines should be an encouragement to this class of prodigal.] Just for a celluloid pillule he left us, Just for an imbecile batlet and ball, These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all. Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets, Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt, Said to secure an unplayable service, Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt. Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him, Copied his pitches in height and in cut, Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker, Made him our pattern to drive and to putt. Benedick's with us, the major is of us, Swiper the county bat's still going strong; He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse, He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong. We have "come on"--but not his the example; Sloe-gin has quickened us--not his the cash; Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash. Rased was his name as a decadent angel, One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game, One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name. Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us, Healed of his hideous lesion of brain, Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight Back to his cosy club corner again. Back for the medal day, back for our foursomes, Back from the tables' diminishing throng, Back from the infantile, ceaseless half-volley, Back from the lunatic lure of ping-pong. * * * * * [Illustration: _Tennis Player (from London)._ "Don't see the fun o' this game--knockin' a ball into a bush, and then 'untin' about for it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE AMERICAN HUSBAND] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ENGLISH WIFE] * * * * * [Illustration: A TOO-FEEBLE EXPLETIVE _MacSymon._ "I saw you were carrying for the professor yesterday, Sandy. How does he play?" _Sandy._ "Eh, yon man'll never be a gowffer. Div ye ken what he says when he foozles a ba'?" _MacSymon._ "No. What does he say?" _Sandy._ "'_Tut-tut!_'"] * * * * * THE LINKS 'Tis a brilliant autumn day, And the breeze has blown away All the clouds that lowered gray; So methinks, As I've half an hour to spare, I will go and take the air, While the weather still is fair, On the Links. I admire the splendid view, The delicious azure hue Of the ocean and--when, _whew_! With a crack, Lo! there drops a little ball Which elects to break its fall By alighting on the small Of my back. In the distance someone cries Some remark about my eyes, None too pleasant, I surmise, From the tone; So away my steps I turn Till a figure I discern, Who is mouching by the burn All alone. He has lost a new "Eclipse," And a little word that slips From his sulky-looking lips Tells me true That, besides the missing ball, Which is gone beyond recall, He has lost--what's worst of all-- Temper, too. I conclude it will be best If I leave him unaddressed, Such a melancholy quest To pursue; And I pass to where I spy Clouds of sand uprising high Till they all but hide the sky From the view. They proceed, I understand, From a bunker full of sand, Where a golfer, club in hand, Freely swears As he hacks with all his might, Till his countenance is quite As vermilion as the bright Coat he wears. I observe him for a while With a highly-tickled smile, For it is the queerest style Ever seen: He is very short and stout, And he knocks the ball about, But he never gets it out On the green. Still I watch him chop and hack, Till I hear a sudden crack, And the club-head makes a track In the light-- There's a startled cry of "FORE!" As it flies, and all is o'er!-- I remember nothing more Till to-night, When I find myself in bed With a lump upon my head Like a penny loaf of bread; And methinks, For the future I'll take care When I want a little air, That I won't go anywhere Near the Links. [Illustration: Punch] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MISERIES OF A _VERY_ AMATEUR GOLFER He is very shy, and unfortunately has to drive off in front of the lady champion and a large gallery. He makes a tremendous effort. The ball travels at least five yards!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Golfer._ "And what's your name?" _Caddie._ "They ca' me 'breeks, but ma maiden name is Christy."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Mummy, what's that man for?"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISTINCTION WITHOUT DIFFERENCE.--_Sensitive Golfer (who has foozled)._ "Did you laugh at me, boy?" _Caddie._ "No, sir; I wis laughin' at anither man." _Sensitive Golfer._ "And what's funny about him?" _Caddie._ "He plays gowf awfu' like you, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Jones cannot see his ball anywhere, although he is positive it fell about there somewhere.] * * * * * [Illustration: Caddie] NEVER HAVE A CADDIE WITH A SQUINT! (_A Lay of the Links_) They told me he was skilful, and assiduous, and true, They told me he had "carried" for the bravest and the best. His hair was soldier-scarlet, and his eyes were saucer blue, And one seemed looking eastward, whilst the other fronted west. His strabismus was a startler, and it shook my nerve at once; It affected me with dizziness, like gazing from a height. I straddled like a duffer, and I wavered like a dunce, And my right hand felt a left one, and my left felt far from right. As I watched him place my ball with his visual axes crossed, The very sunshine glimmered, with a queer confusing glint, I felt like a sick lubber on Atlantic surges tossed-- Oh! never have a caddie with a squint! I'm an "irritable duffer"--so my enemies declare,-- That is I'm very sensitive, and play a modest game. A very little puts me off my stroke, and, standing there, With his boot-heels at right angles, and his optics much the same, He maddened me--no less, and I felt that all success Against bumptious young McBungo--was impossible that day. I'd have parted with a fiver to have beaten him. His dress Was so very very swagger, and his scarlet cap so gay. He eyed my cross-eyed caddie with a supercilious smirk, I tried to set my features, and my nerves, like any flint; But my "knicker'd" knees were knocking as I wildly set to work. Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint! [Illustration: Golfer] I tried to look away from the spoiler of my play, But for fiendish fascination he was like a squinting snake; All the muffings man can muff I contrived to muff that day; My eyes were all askew and my nerves were all ashake. I seemed to squint myself, and not only with my eyes, My knees, my hands, my elbows, with obliquity were rife. McBungo's sleek sham sympathy and sinister surprise Made almost insupportable the burden of my life. He _was_ so beastly friendly, and he _was_ so blazing fair, So fulsomely effusive with suggestion, tip, and hint! And all the while that caddie stood serenely cock-eyed there. Oh! _never_ have a caddie with a squint! Miss Binks was looking on! On that maiden I was gone, Just as she was gone on golf, in perfervid Scottish style. On my merits with McBungo I should just about have won, But my shots to-day were such as made even Effie smile; Oh, the lumps of turf I lifted! Oh, the easy balls I missed! Oh, the bunkers I got bogged in! And at last a gentle scorn Curled the lips I would have given my pet "Putter" to have kissed. Such a bungler as myself her loved links had never borne; And all the while McBungo--the young crocodile!--bewailed What he called my "beastly luck," though his joy was plain as print, Whilst that squint grew worse and worse at each shot of mine which failed. Oh! never have a caddie with a squint! [Illustration: Lady Golfer] In "playing through the green" with my "brassie" I was seen At most dismal disadvantage on that miserable day; _He_ pointed through the rushes with cock-eyed, sardonic spleen,-- I followed his squint guidance, and I struck a yard away; But, oh! 'twas worst of all, when I tried to hole the ball. Oh, the ogre! _How_ he squinted at that crisis of the game! His hideous strabismus held me helpless, a blind thrall Shattered my nerves completely, put my skill to open shame. That squint would, I am sure, have upset the solar system-- Oho! the impish impudence, the gruesome goggle-glint! The low, malicious chuckle, as he softly muttered, "Missed 'im!" No, _never_ have a caddie with a squint! Yet all the same McBungo did _not_ get that rich Miss Binks, Who was so sweet in every way, especially on golf. He fancied he had cut me out that day upon those links, But although he won the game--at golf, his love-game came not off. He and that demon caddie tried between them very hard To shame me in the eyes of that dear enthusiast, But--well, my clubs she carries, whilst McBungo, evil-starred, Was caught by a Scotch vixen with an obvious optic cast! _That's_ Nemesis, I say! And she will not let him play At the game he so adores. True she's wealthy as the Mint. At golf, with Effie, I have passed many a happy day, But--we never have a caddie with a squint! A caddie who's a duffer, or a caddie who gets drunk; A caddie who regards all other caddies as his foes; A caddie who will snigger when you fumble, fail or funk; A caddie who will whistle, or seems ever on the doze; A caddie who's too tiny, or too big and broad of bulk; A caddie who gets playing with your clubs upon the sly; A caddie who will chatter, or a caddie who will sulk; All these are calculated a golf devotee to try; All these are most vexatious to a golfer of repute; And still more so to a novice. But just take a friendly hint! Take a caddie who's a duffer, or a drunkard, or a brute, _But never try a caddie with a squint!!!_ * * * * * [Illustration: ANOTHER LENTEN SACRIFICE.--_Golf Caddie (to Curate)._ "High tee, sir?" _Curate._ "No; put it on the ground. I give up sand during Lent."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Voice from the Hill._ "Now then, you young coward, don't stand about all day. Why don't you _take it away_ from the dog?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Boy (to young lady, who has been unfortunate enough to upset Colonel Bunker)._ "You'd better ride on before 'e gets 'is breath, miss!" _Young Lady._ "Why?" _Boy._ "_I've 'eard 'im play golf!!!_"] * * * * * A GROWL FROM GOLFLAND Bores there are of various species, of the platform, of the quill, Bores obsessed by Christian Science or the Education Bill, But the most exasperating and intolerable bore Is the man who talks of nothing but the latest "rubber core." Place him in the Great Sahara, plant him on an Arctic floe, Or a desert island, fifteen thousand miles from Westward Ho! Pick him up a twelvemonth later, and I'll wager that you find Rubber filling _versus_ gutty still and solely on his mind. O American invaders, I accept your beef, your boots, Your historical romances, and your Californian fruits; But in tones of humble protest I am tempted to exclaim, "Can't you draw the line at commerce, can't you spare one British game?" I am but a simple duffer; I am quite prepared to state That my lowest round on record was a paltry 88; That my partner in a foursome needs the patience of a Job, That in moments of excitement I am apt to miss the globe. With my brassy and my putter I am very far to seek, Generally slice to cover with my iron and my cleek; But I boast a single virtue: I can honestly maintain I've escaped the fatal fever known as Haskell on the brain. * * * * * [Illustration: A golf case was recently before the Court of Appeal. Why not a Golf Court on the links?] * * * * * GOLF VICTOR! Sir Golf and Sir Tennis are fighting like mad-- Now Sir Tennis is blown, and Sir Golf's right above him, And his face has a look that is weary and sad, As he hastily turns to the ladies who love him, But the racket falls from him, he totters, and swirls, As he hears them cry, "Golf is the game for the girls!" * * * The girls crave for freedom, they cannot endure To be cramped up at tennis in courts that are poky And they are all of them certainly, perfectly sure That they'll never again touch "that horrible croquet," Where it's quite on the cards that they may play with papa, And where all that goes on is surveyed by mamma, To golf on the downs for the whole of the day Is "so awfully jolly," they keep on asserting, With a good-looking fellow to teach you the way, And to fill up the time with some innocent flirting, And it may be the maiden is woo'd and is won, Ere the whole of the round is completed and done. Henceforward, then, golf is the game for the fair-- At home, and abroad, or in pastures colonial, And the shouts of the ladies will quite fill the air For the links that will turn into bonds matrimonial, And for husbands our daughters in future will seek With the powerful aid of the putter and cleek! * * * * * [Illustration: Finis] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
36529	----	PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. * * * * * MR. PUNCH AT THE PLAY [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Actor (on the stage)._ "Me mind is made up!" _Voice from the Gallery._ "What abeaout yer fice?"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH AT THE PLAY HUMOURS OF MUSIC AND THE DRAMA _WITH 140 ILLUSTRATIONS_ [Illustration] BY CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, L. RAVEN-HILL, E. T. REED, F. H. TOWNSEND, C. E. BROCK, A. S. BOYD, TOM BROWNE, EVERARD HOPKINS AND OTHERS PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" * * * * * THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] BEFORE THE CURTAIN Most of the PUNCH artists of note have used their pencils on the theatre; with theatricals public and private none has done more than Du Maurier. All have made merry over the extravagances of melodrama and "problem" plays; the vanity and the mistakes of actors, actresses and dramatists; and the blunderings of the average playgoer. MR. PUNCH genially satirises the aristocratic amateurs who, some few years ago, made frantic rushes into the profession, and for a while enjoyed more kudos as actors than they had obtained as titled members of the upper circle, and the exaggerated social status that for the time accrued to the professional actor as a consequence of this invasion. The things he has written about the stage, quite apart from all reviewing of plays, would more than fill a book of itself; and he has slyly and laughingly satirised players, playwrights and public with an equal impartiality. He has got a deal of fun out of the French dramas and the affected pleasure taken in them by audiences that did not understand the language. He has got even more fun out of the dramatists whose "original plays" were largely translated from the French, and to whom Paris was, and to some extent is still, literally and figuratively "a playground." [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH AT THE PLAY SOMETHING FOR THE MONEY (_From the Playgoers' Conversation Book. Coming Edition._) [Illustration] I have only paid three guineas and a half for this stall, but it is certainly stuffed with the very best hair. The people in the ten-and-sixpenny gallery seem fairly pleased with their dado. I did not know the call-boy was at Eton. The expenses of this house must be enormous, if they always play _Box and Cox_ with a rasher of real Canadian bacon. How nice to know that the musicians, though out of sight under the stage, are in evening dress on velvet cushions! Whoever is the author of this comedy, he has not written up with spirit to that delightful Louis the Fifteenth linen cupboard. I cannot catch a word "Macbeth" is saying, but I can see at a glance that his kilt would be extremely cheap at seventy pounds. I am not surprised to hear that the "Tartar's lips" for the cauldron alone add nightly something like fifty-five-and-sixpence to the expenses. Do not bother me about the situation when I am looking at the quality of the velvet pile. Since the introduction of the _live_ hedgehog into domestic drama obliged the management to raise the second-tier private boxes to forty guineas, the Duchess has gone into the slips with an order. They had, perhaps, better take away the champagne-bottle and the diamond-studded whistle from the prompter. Ha! here comes the chorus of villagers, provided with real silk pocket-handkerchiefs. It is all this sort of thing that elevates the drama, and makes me so contented to part with a ten-pound note for an evening's amusement. * * * * * [Illustration: _Pantomime Child (to admiring friend)._ "Yus, and there's another hadvantage in bein' a hactress. You get yer fortygraphs took for noffink!"] * * * * * THE HEIGHT OF LITERARY NECESSITY.--"Spouting" Shakspeare. * * * * * WHEN are parsons bound in honour not to abuse theatres? When they take orders. * * * * * WHAT VOTE THE MANAGER OF A THEATRE ALWAYS HAS.--The "casting" vote. * * * * * "STAND NOT ON THE ORDER OF YOUR GOING."--An amiable manager says the orders which he issues for the pit and gallery are what in his opinion constitute "the lower orders." * * * * * GREAT THEATRICAL EFFECT.--During a performance of _Macbeth_ at the Haymarket, the thunder was so natural that it turned sour a pint of beer in the prompter's-box. * * * * * [Illustration: THE DRAMA.--"'Ere, I say, 'Liza, we've seen this 'ere play before!" "No, we ain't." [_Wordy argument follows._] "Why, don't you remember, same time as Bill took us to the 'Pig an' Whistle,' an' we 'ad stewed eels for supper?" "Oh lor! Yes, that takes me back to it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE APPRECIATION (_Overheard at the Theatre_) _Mrs. Parvenu._ "I don't know that I'm exackly _gone_ on Shakspeare Plays." [_Mr. P. agrees._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _Conversationalist._ "Do you play ping-pong?" _Actor._ "No. I play _Hamlet_!"] * * * * * TO ACTORS WHO ARE NOT WORTH A THOUGHT.--We notice that there is a book called "Acting and Thinking." This is to distinguish it, we imagine, from the generality of acting, in which there is mostly no thinking? * * * * * A CRUSHER.--_Country Manager (to Mr. Agrippa Snap, the great London critic, who has come down to see the production of a piece on trial)._ And what do you think, sir, of our theatre and our players? _Agrippa Snap (loftily)._ Well, frankly, Mr. Flatson, your green-room's better than your company. * * * * * [Illustration: The higher walk of the drama] * * * * * [Illustration: "Auntie, can _you_ do that?"] * * * * * Theatrical managers are so often accused of being unable to break with tradition, that it seems only fair to point out that several of them have recently produced plays, in which the character of "Hamlet" does not appear at all. * * * * * ON A DRAMATIC AUTHOR "Yes, he's a plagiarist," from Tom this fell, "As to his social faults, sir, one excuses 'em; 'Cos he's good natured, takes a joke so well." "True," cries an author, "he takes mine and uses 'em." * * * * * THE MANAGER'S COMPLAINT She danced among the unfinished ways That merge into the Strand, A maid whom none could fail to praise, And very few withstand. A sylph, accepted for the run, Not at a weekly wage; Fair as a star when only one Is shining on the stage. She met a lord, and all men know How soon she'd done with me; Now she is in _Debrett_, oh, and, That's where they all would be! * * * * * [Illustration: A FIRST NIGHT.--_Indignant Playwright (to leading actor, behind the scenes)._ "Confound it, man, you've absolutely murdered the piece!" _Leading Actor._ "Pardon me, but I think the foul play is yours!"] * * * * * _Smart._ How do, Smooth? (_to theatrical manager, who frowns upon him_). What's the matter, eh? _Smooth._ Matter? Hang it, Smart, you wrote me down in "The Stinger." _Smart (repressing something Shakspearian about "writing down" which occurs to him, continues pleasantly)._ Wrote you down? No, I said the piece was a bad one, because I thought it was; a very bad one. _Smooth._ Bad! (_Sarcastically._) You were the only man who said so. _Smart (very pleasantly)._ My dear fellow, _I was the only man who saw it._ Good-bye. [_Exeunt severally._ * * * * * MOTTO FOR A BOX-OFFICE KEEPER.--"So much for booking 'em." * * * * * "A considerable demonstration of approval greeted the fall of the curtain." How are we to take this? * * * * * [Illustration: "THE DESIRE OF THE MOTH FOR THE STAR."--_Mistress._ "And you dare to tell me, Belinda, that you have actually answered a _theatrical advertisement_? How _could_ you be such a _wicked_ girl?" _Belinda (whimpering)._ "Well, mum,--_other_ young lidies--gow on the--stige--why shouldn't _I_ gow?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE COUNTER-CHECK QUARRELSOME.--_Mr. Æsopus Delasparre._ "I will ask you to favour me, madam, by refraining from laughing at me on the stage during my third act." _Miss Jones (sweetly)._ "Oh, but I assure you you're mistaken, Mr. Delasparre; I never laugh at you on the stage--I wait till I get home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SWEEPING ASSERTION.--"The other night, at the Novelty Theatre, Mrs. Vere-Jones was gowned simply in a _clinging_ black velvet, with a cloak of same handsomely trimmed with ermine."--_Extract from Society Journal._] * * * * * DRAMATIC NOTES OF THE FUTURE [A little cheild is the hero of _Everybody's Secret_; the curtain rises upon four little cheildren in _Her Own Way_; there are cheildren of various ages in _Alice-Sit-by-the-fire_.] Mr. Barrie's new play, _The Admirable Crèche_, will be presented to-morrow. We understand that there is a pretty scene in the third act in which several grown-ups are discovered smoking cigars. It may confidently be predicted that all the world will rush to the "Duke of York's" to see this novelty. _The Admirable Crèche_ will be preceded at 8.30 by _Bassinette--A Plea for a Numerous Family_, a one-act play by Theodore Roosevelt and Louis N. Parker. Little Baby Wilkins is making quite a name with her wonderful rendering of "Perdita" in the Haymarket version of _A Winter's Tale_. As soon as actor-manager Wilkins realised the necessity of cutting the last two acts (in which "Perdita" is grown up) the play was bound to succeed. By the way, Mr. E. H. Cooper's new book, "Perditas I have Known," is announced. Frankly, we are disappointed in Mr. Pinero's new play, _Little Arthur_, produced at Wyndham's last week. It treated of the old old theme--the love of the hero for his nurse. To be quite plain, this stale triangle, mother--son--nurse, is beginning to bore us. Are there no other themes in every-day life which Mr. Pinero might take? Could he not, for instance, give us an analysis of the mind of a young genius torn between the necessity for teething and the desire to edit a great daily? Duty calls him both ways: his duty to himself and his duty to the public. Imagine a Wilkins in such a scene! The popular editor of the "Nursery," whose unrivalled knowledge of children causes him to be referred to everywhere as our greatest playwright, is a little at sea in his latest play, _Rattles_. In the first act he rashly introduces (though by this time he should know his own limitations) two grown-ups at lunch--Mr. Jones the father, and Dr. Brown, who discuss Johnny's cough. Now we would point out to Mr. Crouper that men of their age would be unlikely to have milk for lunch; and that they would not say "Yeth, pleath"--unless of Hebraic origin, and Mr. Crouper does not say so anywhere. Mr. Crouper must try and see something of grown-ups before he writes a play of this kind again. We regret to announce that Cecil Tomkins, _doyen_ of actor-managers, is down again with mumps. * * * * * [Illustration: MODERN IMPRESSIONIST ART. A MUSICAL COMEDY] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE PREMIÈRE _Lady in Front Row (to her neighbour, towards the end of the second act)._ "Who is this man next me, who's just come in,--do you know? He doesn't seem to be paying the smallest attention to the play!" _Her Neighbour._ "Oh, I expect he's a critic. He's probably made up his mind long ago what he's going to say of the piece; but he's just dropped in to _confirm his suspicions_."] * * * * * NO FIRST-NIGHTER.--_First Man in the Street._ See the eclipse last night? _Second Man in the Street._ No. Thought it might be crowded. Put off going till next week. * * * * * [Illustration: THE BILL OF THE PLAY] * * * * * [Illustration: AMENITIES OF THE PROFESSION.--_Rising Young Dramatist._ "Saw your wife in front last night. What did she think of my new comedy?" _Brother Playwright_. "Oh, I think she liked it. She told me she had a good laugh." _R. Y. D._ "Ah--er--when was that?" _B. P._ "During the _entr'acte_. One of the attendants dropped an ice down her neighbour's neck."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN _Dora_ (_consulting a playbill_). "Only fancy! '_As You Like It_' is by Shakspeare!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.--_The Captain._ "At this stage of the proceedings I've got to kiss you, Lady Grace. Will your husband mind, do you think?" _Lady Grace._ "Oh no! It's for a _charity_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INFANT ROSCIUS.--_Stage Manager_ (_interviewing children with the idea of engaging them for a new play_). "Has this child been on the stage?" _Proud Mother._ "No; but he's been on an inquest, and he speaks up fine!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SOLILOQUY.--_Tragedian._ "Cheap. Ha, ha! Why in my time they _threw_ them at us!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Well, papa, how did you enjoy the play to-night?" "Oh, I think I enjoyed it fairly well, my dear. I've got a general sort of idea that I didn't go to sleep over it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Enthusiastic Lady Amateur._ "Oh, what a pity! We've just missed the first act!" _Languid Friend._ "Have we? Ah--rather glad. I always think the chief pleasure of going to a theatre is trying to make out what the first act was about!"] * * * * * THEATRICAL.--When it is announced that an actor will be supported by the _entire_ company, it is not thereby meant that the said professional is sustained in his arduous part solely by draughts of Barclay, Perkins and Co. * * * * * The wretch who refuses to take his wife to the theatre deserves to be made to sit out a play. * * * * * GOOD "PIECE" OF FURNITURE FOR THEATRICAL MANAGERS.--A chest of "drawers." * * * * * REGENERATION OF THE BRITISH DRAMA.--There are at this moment three English managers in Paris "in search of novelty!" More: three distinguished members of the Dramatic Authors' Society started for France last night. * * * * * "AS GOOD AS A PLAY."--Performing a funeral. * * * * * A PLANT IN SEASON.--Now is the time of year when managers of theatres show a botanical taste, for there is not one of them who does not do his best to have a great rush at his doors. * * * * * THE DRAMATIC AUTHOR'S PLAYGROUND.--Paris. * * * * * THEATRICAL NOTE.--_Net_ profits are generally the result of a good "_cast_." * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: "Shakspeare and the first Quart O"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Shakspeare and the last Quart O"] * * * * * A DUBIOUS COMPLIMENT.--_Rector's Wife_ (_after harvest festival_). Well, Mrs. Piggleswade, how did you like the Bishop's sermon? _Mrs. Piggleswade._ Oh! ma'am, I ain't been so much upset since my old man took me to the wariety theayter in London last August twelve-month, and 'eard a gen'leman sing about his grandmother's cat. * * * * * There was a poor actor on the Norwich circuit who squinted most dreadfully: he was put up on one occasion for "Lear." "We must succeed," said the manager, "for there never was a _Lear_ with so strong a _cast_." * * * * * A RICHMOND DINNER.--A shouting actor who performs the part. * * * * * BY DEPUTY As Shakspeare could not write his plays (If Mrs. Gallup's not mistaken), I think how wise in many ways He was to have them done by Bacon; They might have mouldered on the shelf, Mere minor dramas (and he knew it!) If he had written them himself Instead of letting Bacon do it. And if it's true, as Brown and Smith In many learned tomes have stated, That Homer was an idle myth, He ought to be congratulated; Since, thus evading birth, he rose For men to worship from a distance: He might have penned inferior prose Had he achieved a real existence. To him and Shakspeare some agree In making very nice allusions, But no one thinks of praising me, For I composed my own effusions: As others wrote their works divine, And they immortal thus to day are, If someone else had written mine I might have been as great as they are! * * * * * [Illustration: _Famous Lion Comique_ (_to his agent, who is not much of a cigar smoker_). "What did you think of that cigar as I give you the other day?" _Agent._ "Well, the first night I liked it well enough. But the second night I didn't like it so well. And the third I didn't like it at all!"] * * * * * Numerous applications were received by the manager of Covent Garden from "professionals" wishing to take part in _The Forty Thieves_. It was not found possible to offer engagements to the following (amongst others):-- _The Thief_--who stole a march. _The Thief_--in the candle. _The Thief_--who was set to catch a thief. _The Thief_--who stole the "purse" and found it "trash." _The Thief_--who stole up-stairs. _The Thief_--of time, _alias_ procrastination, and-- _The Thief_--who stole a kiss (overwhelming number of applicants). * * * * * THE REAL AND THE IDEAL; OR, THE CATASTROPHE OF A VICTORIA MELO-DRAMA _Berthelda._--Sanguino, you have killed your _mother_!!! _Fruitwoman._--Any apples, oranges, biscuits, ginger-beer! (_Curtain falls._) * * * * * [Illustration: The Music-hall.] [Illustration: A Melodrama at the "Surrey".] [Illustration: Screaming Farcical Comedy.] [Illustration: A pathetic "Comedy-Drama."] [Illustration: Another.] [Illustration: A patriotic Drama at the "National Theatre".] [Illustration: The Opera.] [Illustration: And.] [Illustration: Three acts.] [Illustration: of Henrik Ibsen.] [Illustration: The deplorable issue.] * * * * * "Bishops," said the Rev. Mr. Phillips to the Playgoers' Club, "are not really so stiff and starchy as they are made out to be. There is a good heart beneath the gaiters." Calf-love, we presume. * * * * * DIFFERENT VIEWS.--Bishops complain of a dearth of candidates for orders. Managers of theatres think differently. * * * * * LEG-ITIMATE SUCCESSES.--Modern extravaganzas. * * * * * THEATRICAL.--The only people who never suffer in the long run--managers of theatres. * * * * * "STANDING ORDERS."--Free admissions who can't get seats. * * * * * [Illustration: "MOST MUSICAL, MOST MELANCHOLY" _Husband_ (_after the Adagio, to musical wife_). "My dear, are we going to stay to the 'bitter end'?"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC OF THE FUTURE. SENSATION OPERA. _Manager_ (_to his Primo Tenore, triumphantly_). "My dear fellow, I've brought you the score of the new opera. We've arranged _such_ a scena for you in the third act! o' board of the Pirate Screw, after the keelhauling scene, you know! Heavy rolling sea, eh?--Yes, and we can have some real spray pumped on to you from the fire-engine! Volumes of smoke from the funnel, close behind your head--in fact, you'll be enveloped as you rush on to the bridge! And then you'll sing that lovely barcarolle through the speaking-trumpet! And mind you hold tight, as the ship blows up just as you come upon your high D in the last bar!!!"] * * * * * AT A PROBLEM PLAY.--_Mr. Dinkershein_ (_eminent critic_). How did you enjoy the piece, Miss MacGuider? _Miss MacGuider._ Well, to tell the truth, I didn't know what it was all about. _Mr. Dinkershein._ Excellent. The author gives us so much to think of. * * * * * QUESTION AND ANSWER.--"Why don't I write plays?" Why should I? * * * * * NOT EXACTLY A THEATRICAL MANAGER'S GUIDING MOTTO.--"Piece at any price." * * * * * OUR SHAKSPEARIAN SOCIETY.--In the course of a discussion, Mrs. ---- observed, that she was positive that Shakspeare was a butcher by trade, because an old uncle of hers had bought _lambs' tails from Shakspeare_. * * * * * "SOUND DUES."--Fees to opera box-keepers. * * * * * COPYRIGHT AND COPYWRONG.--The dramatist who dramatises his neighbour's novel against his will, is less a playwright than a plagiary. * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: "CROSS OLD THING!"--_Wife._ "I'm going into town now, dear. Shall I book places for _Caste_ or _Much ado about Nothing_?" _Husband._ "Oh, please yourself, my dear; but I should say we've enough 'Ado about Nothing' at home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR THEATRICALS.--_Brown (rehearsing his part as the "Vicomte de Cherisac")._ "Yas, Marie! I've fondly loved ye. (_Sobs dramatically._) 'Tis well--but no mat-tar-r!" _Housemaid (to cook, outside the door)._ "Lauks, 'Liz'beth, ain't master a givin' it to missis!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TECHNICAL.--_First Player_ ("_Juvenile Lead_"). Play Scene--Hamlet. (_Deferentially_). "What do you think of it?" _Second Player_ ("_First Heavy_"). "How precious well them 'supers' are painted, ain't they?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DOUBLE DISAPPOINTMENT.--_Stern Hostess (who is giving private theatricals)._ "You are very late, Mr. Fitz Smythe. They've begun long ago!" _Languid Person of Importance (who abominates that particular form of entertainment)._ "What! You don't mean to say they're at it still!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MODEST APPEAL.--_Lady (to big drum)._ "Pray, my good man, don't make that horrid noise! I can't hear myself speak!"] * * * * * A MODERN REHEARSAL _Leading Lady (to Stage Manager)._ Who's that man in the ulster coat talking to the call-boy? _Stage Manager._ Don't know, I'm sure. Perhaps a gas-fitter. Now, as I was saying, Miss Frisette, I think that all your alterations in the dialogue are quite up to date, but we must give Splitter a chance for his cackle. Ah! here he is. _Splitter._ Well, old boy, I've worked in that scene to rights, but the boss thinks that some allusions to Turkey served up with German sausage would fetch 'em. So you might chuck it in for me. _Stage Man._ Of course I will. Capital idea. (_Marks prompt-book._) I wonder who that chap is in the wing? _Splitter._ Haven't the faintest idea. Looks like an undertaker. Hallo, Wobbler, brought your new song? _Wobbler._ Yes, it ought to go. And I've a gross or so of capital wheezes. _Splitter._ No poaching, old chap. _Wobbler._ Of course not. I'll not let them off when you're on. Morning, Miss Skid. Perfect, I suppose? _Miss Skid (brightly)._ I'm always "perfect." But--(_seriously_)--I had to cut all the idiotic stuff in my part, and get Peter Quip of "The Kangaroo" to put in something up to date. Here's the boss! [_Enter Mr. Footlyte, the manager, amid a chorus of salutations._ _Stage Man._ Places, ladies and gentlemen. _Mr. Footlyte._ Before we begin the rehearsal, I would point out that I have completely rewritten the second act, and---- _The Stranger in the Ulster._ But, sir, I beg of you to remember---- _Mr. F._ Who is that man? _Everybody._ We don't know! _Mr. F. (advancing)._ Who are you, sir, who dare to trespass on my premises? _The S. in the U._ Don't you remember me, Mr. Footlyte? _Mr. F._ No, sir, I do not. What's your business? _The S. in the U. (nervously)._ I am the author of the piece. _Everybody._ Ha! ha! ha! _Mr. F._ Then you're not wanted here. (_To stage manager._) Jenkins, clear the stage. [_The author is shown out. Rehearsal proceeds. Curtain._ * * * * * MEANT AS A COMPLIMENT.--_Shakspeare Smith (to Miss Lagushe, after production of his new comedy)._ And what did you think of my little piece the other night? _Miss Lagushe._ I didn't pay the least attention to the play. All I thought was, what a cruel ordeal the performance must be for _you_! * * * * * NEO-DRAMATIC NURSERY RHYME Mrs. Grundy, good woman, scarce knew what to think About the relation 'twixt drama and drink. Well, give hall--and theatre--good wholesome diet, And all who attend will be sober and quiet! * * * * * [Illustration: _Younger Son of Ducal House._ "Mother, allow me to introduce to you--my wife." _His Wife (late of the Frivolity Theatre)._ "How do, Duchess? I'm the latest thing in mésalliances!"] * * * * * HINTS TO AMATEUR PLAYWRIGHTS. _Of the Essence of Drama._--It is not strictly necessary that you should know much about this, but as a rough indication it may be stated that whenever two or more persons stand (or sit) upon a platform and talk, and other persons, whether from motives of ennui, or charity, or malice, or for copyright purposes only, go and listen to them, the law says it is a stage-play. It does not follow that anybody else will. _Of the Divers Sorts of Dramatic Writing._--Owing to the competition nowadays of the variety entertainment you will do well to treat these as practically amalgamated. For example, start Act I. with an entirely farcical and impossible marriage, consequent upon a mistake similar to that of "Mr. Pickwick" about the exact locality of his room; drop into poetry and pathos in Act II. (waltz-music "off" throughout will show that it _is_ poetry and pathos); introduce for the first time in Act III. a melodramatic villain, who endeavours to elope with the heroine (already married, as above, and preternaturally conscious of it), and wind-up Act IV. with a skirt dance and a general display of high spirits, with which the audience, seeing that the conclusion is at hand, will probably sympathise. Another mixture, very popular with serious people, may be manufactured by raising the curtain to a hymn tune upon a number of obviously early Christians, and, after thus edifying your audience, cheering them up again with glimpses of attractive young ladies dressed (to a moderate extent) as pagans, and continually in fits of laughter. The performance of this kind of composition is usually accompanied by earthquakes, thunder and lightning; but the stage carpenter will attend to these. _Of Humour._--Much may be accomplished in this line by giving your characters names that are easily punned upon. Do not forget, however, that even higher flights of wit than you can attain by this means will be surpassed by the simple expedient of withdrawing a chair from behind a gentleman about to sit down upon it. And this only requires a stage-direction. _Of Dialogue._--Speeches of more than half a page, though useful for clearing up obscurities, are generally deficient in the qualities of repartee. After exclaiming, "Oh, I am slain!" or words to that effect, no character should be given a soliloquy taking more than five minutes in recitation. _Of the Censorship._--This need not be feared unless you are unduly serious. Lady Godiva, for instance, will be all right for a ball where the dress is left to the fancy, but you must not envelop her in problems. * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE STAGE-WORSHIPPERS.--"Mummer's the word!" [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: QUITE OF HER OPINION _Gushing Young Woman (to famous actor)._ "Oh, do you know, Mr. Starleigh, I'm simply _mad_ to go on the stage!" _Famous Actor._ "Yes, I should think you _would_ be, my dear young lady!"] * * * * * THE DECLINE OF THE DRAMA Mundungus deems the drama is declining, Yet fain would swell the crowded playwright ranks. The secret of his pessimist opining, Is--all _his_ dramas _are_ declined--with thanks! * * * * * CONTRIBUTION TOWARDS NURSERY RHYMES (_For Use of Infant Students in New School of Dramatic Art_) 'Tis the voice of the prompter, I hear him quite plain; He has prompted me twice, Let him prompt me again. * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: A suggestion to the refreshment departments of our theatres, much simpler than the old method of struggling by, and would prevent the men going out between the acts.] [Illustration: First night of musical comedy. The authors called before the curtain.] [Illustration: _Jones (arriving in the middle of the overture to "Tristan und Isolde"--quite audibly)._ "Well, thank goodness we're in _plenty of time!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE STALLS Time past--Crinoline era] * * * * * APPROPRIATE SHAKESPEARIAN MOTTO FOR A FIRM OF ADVERTISING AGENTS.--"Posters of the sea and land." * * * * * QUID PRO QUO.--_Actor-Manager (to Dramatic Author)._ What I want is a one-part piece. _Dramatic Author._ That's very easily arranged. You be number one, and "part" to me. * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE STALLS Time present--Fan development] * * * * * _Araminta._ Why, dearest, do you call those witticisms, which the comedians deliver with such ready humour, "gags"? _Corydon (the playwright)._ Because they always stifle the author. [_Smiles no more during the evening._ * * * * * THE MUMMER'S BÊTE-NOIRE.--"_Benefits_ forgot." * * * * * [Illustration: MITIGATING CIRCUMSTANCES _Sangazur, Senior._ "Look here, what's all this nonsense I hear about your wanting to marry an actress?" _Sangazur, Junior._ "It's quite true, sir. But--er--you can have no conception how _very poorly_ she acts!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A STUDIED INSULT.--_Box-Office Keeper at the Imperial Music-Hall (to Farmer Murphy, who is in town for the Islington Horse Show)._ "Box or two stalls, sir?" _Murphy._ "What the dev'l d'ye mane? D'ye take me an' the missus for a pair o' proize 'osses? Oi'll have two sates in the dhress circle, and let 'em be as dhressy as possible, moind!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SLEEPING BEAUTY."--"Nervous? oh dear no! I only acted _once_ in private theatricals, Mr. Jones, and, although it was an important part, I had nothing to say!" "Really? What _was_ the part?" "_Can't you guess?_"] * * * * * [Illustration: COLLABORATEURS.--Jennings and Bellamy, the famous dramatists, planning one of those thrilling plays of plot and passion, in which (as everybody knows) Jennings provides the inimitable broad humour, and Bellamy the love-scenes and the tragic deaths. (Bellamy is the shorter of the two.)] * * * * * WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS (_From the Common-place Book of a Novelist_) Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to hear it on the stage. Because publishers are far more amiable to deal with than actor-managers. Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing place--except in novels. Because why waste three weeks on writing a play, when it takes only three years to compose a novel? Because critics who send articles to magazines inviting one to contribute to the stage, have no right to dictate to us. Because a fairly successful novel means five hundred pounds, and a fairly successful play yields as many thousands--why be influenced by mercenary motives? Because all novelists hire their pens in advance for years, and have no time left for outside labour. And last, and (perhaps) not least, Why don't I send in a play? Because I _have_ tried to write _one_, and find I can't quite manage it! * * * * * [Illustration: HER FIRST PLAY.--_Mamma (who has taken Miss Effie, as a great treat, to a morning performance)._ "Hush, dear! You mustn't talk!" _Miss Effie (with clear sense of injustice, and pointing to the stage)._ "But, mummy,--_they're_ talking!"] * * * * * _Q._ When are the affairs of a theatre likely to assume a somewhat fishy aspect? _A._ When there's a sole lessee. * * * * * _Evangeline._ Why is this called the dress circle mamma? _Mamma._ Because the stalls are the undressed circle, dear. * * * * * A FORM OF EQUESTRIAN DRAMA.--Horseplay. * * * * * [Illustration: Mellow drammer] * * * * * [Illustration: FIRST NIGHT OF AN UNAPPRECIATED MELODRAMA.--_He._ "Are we alone?" _Voice from the Gallery._ "No, guv'nor; but you will be to-morrow night."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE COMMISSARIAT _Our Bandmaster (to purveyor of refreshments)._ "We must hev beef sangwitches, marm! Them ham ones make the men's lips that greasy, they can't blow!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A NOTE AND QUERY _Wife (given to literature and the drama)._ "George, what is the meaning of the expression, 'Go to!' you meet with so often in Shakspeare and the old dramatists?" _Husband (not a reading man)._ "'Don't know, I'm sure, dear, unless---- Well,--p'raps he was going to say----but thought it wouldn't sound proper!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S OPERA BOX] * * * * * [Illustration: SIC VOS NON VOBIS DRAMATISATIS, WRITERS! _Wife of his Bosom (just home from the play)._ "And then that _darling_ Walter Lisson, looking like a Greek god, drew his stiletto, and delivered, oh! _such_ an exquisite soliloquy over her tomb--all in blank verse--like heavenly music on the organ!" _He._ "Why, he's got a voice like a raven, and can no more deliver blank verse than he can fly." _She._ "Ah, well--it was very beautiful, all the same--all about love and death, you know!" _He._ "Who wrote the piece, then?" _She._ "Who wrote the piece? Oh--er--well--his name's sure to be on the bill somewhere--at least I _suppose_ it is!"] * * * * * FROM OUR GENERAL THEATRICAL FUND.--Why would a good-natured dramatic critic be a valuable specimen in an anatomical museum? Because he takes to pieces easily. * * * * * MEM. BY A MANAGER To say "boo" to a goose requires some doing. In theatres 'tis the goose who does the "booing," And though a man may do the best he can, sir, _Anser_ will hiss, though hissing may not answer! * * * * * REVISED VERSION OF SHAKSPEARE "A POOR player, Who struts and frets his hour on the stage, And then--goes in society." * * * * * [Illustration: A solo on the horn] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER THE PERFORMANCE.--_Rupert the Reckless (Tompkins, a distinguished amateur from town)._ "Now, I call it a beastly shame, Jenkins; you haven't ordered that brute of yours off my togs, and you know I can't go back to the inn like _this_."] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENES FROM MR. PUNCH'S PANTOMIME. Scene I.--The Tragic Mews] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENES FROM MR. PUNCH'S PANTOMIME. Scene II.--The Comic Mews] * * * * * [Illustration: AMBIGUOUS.--_First Actress._ "Oh, my dear, I'm feeling so chippy! I think I shall send down a doctor's certificate to-night, to say I can't act." _Second Ditto._ "Surely a certificate isn't necessary, dear?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tenor (at amateur concert)._ "It's my turn next, and I'm so nervous I should like to run away. Would you mind accompanying me, Miss Brown?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Smith._ "This is a very unpleasant piece, don't you think? There's certainly a great deal to be done yet in the way of elevating the stage." _Mr. Jones (who hasn't been able to get a glimpse of the stage all the afternoon)._ "Well--er--it would come to much the same thing if you ladies were to lower your hats!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR THEATRICALS.--_The Countess._ "Will this cruel war _never_ end? Day after day I watch and wait, straining every nerve to catch the sound of the trumpet that will tell me of my warrior's return. But, hark! what is that I hear?" [_Stage direction.--"Trumpet faintly heard in distance." But we hadn't rehearsed that, and didn't explain the situation quite clearly to the local cornet-player who helped us on the night._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: Master Jackey having seen a "professor" of posturing, has a private performance of his own in the nursery.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mazeppa._ "Again he urges on his wild career!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS. THE ACTOR.--_Billy Wapshot._ "I say, look here, you know! They've cast me for the part of _Sir Guy Earliswoodde_, an awful ass that everyone keeps laughing at! How the dickens am I to act such a beastly part as that?--and how am I to dress for it, I should like to know?" _Brown (stage manager)._ "My dear fellow, dress _just as you are!_--and as for acting, _be as natural as you possibly can!_ It will be an immense success!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS. THE JEUNE PREMIER.--"_What_, Eleanor? You know _Sir Lionel Wildrake_, the handsomest, wittiest, most dangerous man in town! He of whom it is said that no woman has ever been known to resist him yet!" "The same, Lilian! But hush! He comes----" [_Enter Colonel Sir Lionel Wildrake_. ] * * * * * There is a blessing on peacemakers--is there one on playwrights? * * * * * THE HOME OF THE BRITISH DRAMA.--A French crib. * * * * * A COURT THEATRE TICKET.--The order of the garter available only at Windsor as an order for the stalls. * * * * * NEW NAME FOR A THEATRE WHERE THE ACTORS ARE MORE OR LESS UNINTELLIGIBLE.--"The Mumbles." * * * * * [Illustration: Music by handle.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM "And pray, Duke, what possible objection can you have to my being a suitor for the hand of your daughter Gwendolen? I--a--_think_ I may flatter myself that, as a leading gentleman at the Parthenon Theatre, my social position is at least on a par with your Grace's!" "I admit that to be the case just _at present_--but the social position of an actor may suffer a reaction, and a day _may_ come when even the leading gentleman at the Parthenon may sink to the level of a _Bishop_, let us say, and be no longer quite a suitable match for a daughter of the--a--House of Beaumanoir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TURNING A PHRASE.--_Dramatic Author._ "What the deuce do you mean by pitching into my piece in this brutal manner? It's shameful!" _Dramatic Critic._ "Pitching into it? No, no, no, dear old man--you'll see how pleased I was, _if you'll only read between the lines!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_A Booth in the Wild West_ _The curtain has just fallen on the first act of the "Pirates of the Pacific."_ _Author._ "What is the audience shouting for?" _Manager._ "They're calling for the author." _Author._ "Then hadn't I better appear?" _Manager._ "I guess not. They've got their revolvers in their hands!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Men Were Deceivers Ever" _First Counter Tenor._ "Scritchy, I think your wife's waiting for you at our entrance." _Second Counter Tenor._ "Oh, then, let's go out at the _bass_ door!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE COMMENTATORS.--_First Quidnunc (in an ecstasy)._ "I've just been writing to the 'New Shakspeare Society.' 'Believe I've made a discovery--that _Horatio_ was _Hamlet's_ father!" _Second Quidnunc (enchanted)._ "You don't say so!" _First Quidnunc._ "My dear sir, doesn't _Hamlet_, when he handles _Yorick's_ skull, address _Horatio_, 'And smelt so, pa'? I think that's conclusive!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A Disenchantment _Very Unsophisticated Old Lady (from the extremely remote country)._ "_Dear_ me! He's a _very_ different-looking person from what I had always imagined!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "JUST HINT A FAULT" _Little Tommy Bodkin takes his cousins to the gallery of the Opera_ _Pretty Jemima (who is always so considerate)._ "Tom, dear, don't you think you had better take off your hat, on account of the poor people behind, you know?"] * * * * * THE MOAN OF A THEATRE-MANAGER Who gets, by hook or crook, from me Admittance free, though well knows he That myriads turned away will be? The Deadhead. Who, while he for his programme pays The smallest silver coin, inveighs Against such fraud with eyes ablaze? The Deadhead. Who to his neighbour spins harangues, On how he views with grievous pangs The dust that on our hangings hangs? The Deadhead. Who, in a voice which rings afar, Declares, while standing at the bar, Our drinks most deleterious are? The Deadhead. Who, aye withholds the claps and cheers That others give? Who jeers and sneers At all he sees and all he hears? The Deadhead. Who loudly, as the drama's plot Unfolds, declares the tale a lot Of balderdash and tommy-rot? The Deadhead. Who dubs the actors boorish hinds? Who fault with all the scenery finds? Who with disgust his molars grinds? The Deadhead. Who spreads dissatisfaction wide 'Mongst those who else with all they spied Had been extremely satisfied? The Deadhead. Who runs us down for many a day, And keeps no end of folks away That else would for admittance pay? The Deadhead. Who keeps his reputation still, For recompensing good with ill With more than pandemonium's skill? The Deadhead. Who makes the bankrupt's doleful doom In all its blackness o'er me loom? Who'll bring my grey head to the tomb? The Deadhead. * * * * * [Illustration: IBSEN IN BRIXTON.--_Mrs. Harris._ "Yes, William, I've thought a deal about it, and I find I'm nothing but your doll and dickey-bird, and so I'm going!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A five bar rest] * * * * * [Illustration: _Seedy Provincial Actor._ "Young man, I hear that you propose to essay the _rôle_ of the melancholy Dane. What induced you to do it?" _Prosperous London ditto._ "Oh, I don't know. They egged me on to it." _Seedy Provincial Actor._ "H'm. They egged _me OFF_!"] * * * * * LESSONS LEARNED AT A PANTOMIME (_By an Intelligent Schoolboy_) That demons are much given to making bad puns, and have on their visiting lists the most beautiful of the fairies. That the attendants upon the demons (presumably their victims) spend much of their time in break-downs. That the chief amusement in Fairyland is to stand upon one toe for a distressingly long time. That the fairies, when they speak, don't seem to have more H.'s to their tongues, than clothes to their backs. That the fairies have particularly fair complexions, considering they dance so much in the sunlight. That the tight and scanty costume of the fairies is most insufficient protection from the showers that must be required to produce the gigantic and highly-coloured fairy _flora_. That the chief fairy (to judge from her allusions to current events) must take in the daily papers. That harlequin is always shaking his bat, but nothing seems to come of it, and that it is hard to say why he comes on or goes off, or, in short, what he's at altogether. That if clown and pantaloon want to catch columbine, it is hard to see why they don't catch her. That pantaloon must have been greatly neglected by his children to be exposed without some filial protection to such ill-usage from clown. That clown leads a reckless and abandoned life, between thefts, butter-slides, hot pokers, nurse-maids, and murdered babies, and on the whole is lucky to escape hanging. That policemen are made to be chaffed, cuffed, chased, and knocked head-over-heels. * * * * * [Illustration: THE NEW PLAY _Low Comedian._ "Have you seen the notice?" _Tragedian._ "No; is it a good one?" _Low Comedian._ "It's a fortnight's."] * * * * * [Illustration: A quick movement with an obligato accompaniment.] * * * * * [Illustration: TERRIFIC SITUATION! Heroine of domestic drama pursued by the unprincipled villain is about to cast herself headlong from a tremendous precipice!] * * * * * APPRECIATIVE! _The eldest Miss Bluestocken (to Mrs. Mugby, of the village laundry)._ I'm delighted that you were able to come to our schoolroom performance of _Scenes from Shakspeare_. _Mrs. Mugby._ Oh, so was I, mum. That there "'Amblet"--and the grand lady, mum---- _Eldest Miss B. (condescendingly)._ You mean "Hamlet" and his mother--the vicar and myself. You enjoyed it? _Mrs. Mugby._ Oh, we did, mum! We ain't 'ad such a rale good laugh for many a long day. [_Exit_ Miss B., _thinking that Shakspeare is perhaps somewhat thrown away on this yokality_.] * * * * * THE BOOK OF THE PLAY (_as managers like it_).--"All places taken for the next fortnight." * * * * * When actors complain that all they require is "parts," they generally tell the exact truth. * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE FROM SHAKSPEARIAN PANTOMIME "Where got'st thou that goose?--look!" (_Macbeth_, Act V., Sc. 3.)] * * * * * [Illustration: A DISENCHANTMENT.--_Grandpapa._ "_What_? Bob in love with Miss Fontalba, the comic actress at the Parthenon?" _Bob (firing up)._ "Yes, grandpa! And if you've got a word to say against that lady, it had better not be said in my presence, that's all!" _Grandpapa._ "_I_ say a word _against_ her! Why, bless your heart, my dear boy! I was head over ears in love with her _myself_--_when I was your age!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PROBLEM PLAY.--_New Woman (with the hat)._ "No! _My_ principle is simply _this_--if there's a _demand_ for these plays, it must be _supplied_!" _Woman not New (with the bonnet)._ "Precisely! Just as with the bull-fights in Spain!" [_Scores_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: CHURCH THEATRES FOR COUNTRY VILLAGES--THE BLAMELESS BALLET ["_Mr. Chamberlain has expressed himself in sympathy with the scheme of the Rev. Forbes Phillips for running theatres in connection with the churches in country villages._"] There would, our artist imagines, be no difficulty in obtaining willing coryphées among the pew-openers and philanthropic spinsters of the various parishes.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. M'Chrustie (in the washing-room of the Minerva Club)._ "Look here, waiter, what's the meaning of this? These brushes are as beastly grimy as if they'd been blacking boots----!" _Waiter._ "Yes, sir: it's them members from the 'Junior Theshpian,' sir--as are 'ere now, sir. They do dye theirselves to that degree----!" [_Mr. M'C. rushes off and writes furiously to the Committee!_ ] * * * * * _Q._ What were the "palmy" days of the drama? _A._ When they were first-rate hands at acting. * * * * * MOTTO FOR ALL DRAMATIC PERFORMERS.--"Act well your part." * * * * * A BAND-BOX.--An orchestra. * * * * * "What an awful voice that man's got!" said the manager, who was listening to the throaty tenor. "Call that a voice," said his friend; "it's a disease!" * * * * * A PRIVATE BOX.--A sentry box. * * * * * [Illustration: "You can't sit there, mum. These here seats are reserved." "You don't seem to be aware that I'm one of the directors' wives!" "And if you was his _only_ wife, mum, I couldn't let you sit here."] * * * * * During the dull season a certain manager has issued such a number of his autographs in order to ensure the proper filling of his house that he has in playfulness conferred on it the nickname of the ordertorium. * * * * * WHAT MANAGERS, ACTRESSES, AND SPECTATORS ALL WANT.--A good dressing. * * * * * CHRISTMAS MUSIC FOR THEATRES.--The "waits" between the acts. * * * * * What we want for the British drama generally is not so much native talent as imagi-native talent. * * * * * AT THE MUSIC HALLS.--The birds that fly by night--the acro-bats. * * * * * [Illustration: CONFRÈRES.--_Master Jacky (who took part in some school theatricals last term,--suddenly, to eminent tragedian who has come to call)._ "I say, you know--I act!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PROP OF THE DRAMA "What, back already, Archie! Was it a dull piece, then?" "Don't know. Didn't stop to see. Just looked round stalls and boxes, and didn't see a soul I knew!--so I came away."] * * * * * [Illustration: SHOWING THAT SOMETIMES IT IS GOOD FOR A COBBLER _NOT_ TO STICK TO HIS LAST. _Fair Matron._ "I remember your acting '_Sir Anthony_,' _years_ ago, when I was a girl, Sir Charles! You did it splendidly!" _The Great Mathematician._ "Ah, would you believe it, that bit of acting brought me more compliments than anything I ever did?" _Fair Matron._ "I should _think_ so, indeed!"] * * * * * THE COMPANY THAT FREQUENTLY FILLS A THEATRE BETTER THAN A DRAMATIC ONE.--The Stationers' Company. * * * * * The managers of Drury Lane, Gaiety, Alhambra and Empire Theatres ought _ex-officio_ to be members of the Worshipful Guild of Spectacle-makers. * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: "_Walking Lady_" (_late for rehearsal_). "Oh, I'm so sorry to be late! I _do_ hope you haven't all been waiting for me?" _Stage Manager_ (_icily_). "My dear Miss Chalmers, incompetence is the gift of heaven; but attention to business may be cultivated!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNKIND CUT.--_Amateur._ "It was very kind of you to come to our performance the other night; but what did you think of my _Hamlet_? Pretty good?" _Professional_ (_feigning ecstasy_). "Oh, my dear fellow, 'pon my word you know,--really I assure you, good's not the word!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Critic._ "Well, have you seen the great tragedian in _Romeo and Juliet_?" _Second ditto._ "I have; and I confess he didn't come up to my ixpictations. To tell ye the truth, I niver thought he would!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CROWDED HOUSE _Angry Voice_ (_from a back seat_). "Ears off in front there, please!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE PROVINCIAL DRAMA _The Marquis_ (_in the play_). "Aven't I give' yer the edgication of a gen'leman?" _Lord Adolphus_ (_spendthrift heir_). "You 'ave!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CONDUCTOR OF HEAT] * * * * * [Illustration: "STARTLING EFFECTS!" _Peep-Showman._ "On the right you observe the 'xpress train a-comin' along, an' the signal lights, the green and the red. The green lights means 'caution,' and the red lights si'nifies 'danger'"---- _Small Boy_ (_with his eye to the aperture_). "But what's the yaller light, sir?" _Peep-Showman_ (_slow and impressive_). "There ain't no yaller light--but the green and the red. The green lights means 'caution,' and the red lights si'nif----" _Small Boy_ (_persistently_). "But wha's the other light, sir?" _Peep-Showman_ (_losing patience_). "Tell yer there ain't no"----(_takes a look--in consternation_)--"Blowed if the darned old show ain't a-fire!!"] * * * * * EX NIHILO NIHIL FIT ["Fashions in drama change as frequently as fashions in hats. It has been reserved for our own day to evolve the comedy of nothing-in-particular. Nowadays nothing happens in a play."--_The Outlook._] SCENE--_Nowhere in particular._ CHARACTERS. HE, _a nonentity_. SHE, _another_. _He._ Dear----! _She_ (_wearily_). Oh please don't. [_Does nothing._ _He._ Why, what's the matter? _She._ Nothing. [_He does nothing._ _She._ Well, you may as well go on. It will be something, anyhow. (_Yawns._) Nothing ever seems to happen in this play. I don't know why. It isn't my fault. Oh, go on. _He._ All right. Don't suppose it amuses me, though. Darling, I love you--will you marry me? _She_ (_very wearily_). Oh, I suppose so. _He._ Thanks very much. (_Kisses her._) There! [_Returns proudly to his seat, and does nothing._ _She_ (_with sudden excitement_). Supposing I had said "No," would you have shot yourself?--would you have gone to the front?--would your life have been a blank hereafter? Would anything interesting have happened? _He_ (_with a great determination in his eyes_). Had you spurned my love---- _She_ (_excitedly_). Yes, yes? _He_ (_with emotion_).--I should have--I should have--done nothing. [_Does it._ _She._ Oh! _He._ Yes. As for shooting or drowning myself if any little thing of that sort had happened it would have been _off_ the stage. I hope I know my place. [_She does nothing._ _He_ (_politely_). I don't know if you're keen about stopping here? If not, we might---- _She._ We must wait till somebody else comes on. _He._ True. (_Reflects deeply._) Er--do you mote much? [_She sleeps. The audience follows suit. Curtain eventually._ * * * * * [Illustration: HOW HE OUGHT _NOT_ TO LOOK _Excited Prompter_ (_to the Ghost of Hamlet's father, who is working himself up to the most funereal aspect he can assume_). "Now then, Walker, _LOOK ALIVE_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC SHAKSPEARE.--"MACBETH" "Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers."--_Act II. Sc. 2._] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC-HALL INANITIES.--I. _Miss Birdie Vandeleur ("Society's Pet"--vide her advertisements passim) bawls the refrain of her latest song_:-- "Ow, I am sow orferly _shy_, boys! I am, and I kennot tell wy, boys! Some dy, wen I'm owlder, Per'aps I'll git bowlder, But naow I am orfer-ly shy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC-HALL INANITIES.--II. The Illustrative Method. 'E's not a _tall_ man--Nor a _short_ man--But he's just the man for me.' "Not in the army--Nor the nivy--But the royal artill-er-ee!"] * * * * * ATTENTION AT THE PLAY. (_As performed at many London Theatres_) SCENE--_Interior of a Private Box._ TIME--_Towards the end of the First Act of an established success._ PRESENT--_A party of Four._ _No. 1_ (_gazing through opera glasses_). A good house. Do you know anyone? _No. 2._ Not a soul. Stay--aren't those the Fitzsnooks? _No. 3_ (_also using a magnifier_). You mean the woman in the red feather at the end of the third row of the stalls? _No. 4._ You have spotted them. They have got Bobby Tenterfore with them. You know, the Johnnie in the F. O. _No. 1._ I thought Mr. Tenterfore was at Vienna. _No. 4._ No; he _was_ going, but they sent another chap. Brought him back from somewhere in the tropics. _No. 3._ Then what is Mr. Tenterfore doing in town? _No. 4._ Oh! come home on leave. Lots of that sort of thing at the F. O. _No. 1_ (_having grown weary of looking at the audience_). By the way, _à propos de bottes_, I have some money to invest. Can you suggest anything? _No. 3._ They say that Diddlers Deferred will turn up trumps. _No. 1._ What do you mean by that? I only want to pop in and out between the accounts. _No. 3._ Then the Diddlers ought to suit you. They rose six last week, and ought to touch ten before settling day. _No. 1._ Then I am on. Thanks very much for the information. Ah! the curtain has fallen. So much for the first act! (_Enter visitor._) Ah! how are you? Where are you? _Visitor._ Well, I have got a stall, but I have only just come into the house. What are they playing? _No. 2._ I am sure I don't know; but if you are curious about it, here's the programme. _Visitor._ And what's it all about? _No. 1_ (_on behalf of self and companions_). We haven't the faintest notion. [_Conversation becomes general, and remains so until the end of the evening, regardless of the dialogue on the stage side of the curtain._ * * * * * [Illustration: MELODRAMA IN THE SUBURBS.--_Elder Sister._ "Do give up, Nellie! They're only acting." _Nellie_ (_tearfully_). "You leave me alone. I'm enjoying it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION.--_Doctor._ "No, my dear sir, we must keep ourselves quiet for the present. No stimulants--nothing more exciting than gruel. Gruel for breakfast, gruel for luncheon, gruel for dinner, gruel for----" _Peter Pundoleful_ (_a noted burlesque writer--though you wouldn't have thought it to look at him--rousing himself suddenly_). "Ah! my dear doctor, why is there not a society for the prevention of gruelty to animals?"] * * * * * HIS FIRST AND LAST PLAY RALPH ESSENDEAN, _aged about fifty, is discovered at a writing-desk. He studies a newspaper, from which he reads aloud, thoughtfully:--"So that a successful play may bring its author anything from five to twenty thousand pounds." He lays down the paper, mutters, "H'm!" and taking up a pencil bites it meditatively. Enter Mrs. Essendean._ _Mrs. Essendean_ (_crossing to Ralph, and placing her hand on his shoulder, asks affectionately_). Well, dear, and how is the play getting on? _Ralph_ (_irritably_). You talk of the play, Matilda, as though it were possible to write a four-act drama in ten minutes. The play is not getting on at all well, for the simple reason that I am only just thinking out the idea. _Mrs. Essendean_ (_seating herself by the table_). How nice, dear! And what _is_ the idea? _Ralph_ (_grimly_). That is just what I am wondering about. Now if you will kindly retire to the kitchen and make an omelette, or discharge the cook, I shall be obliged. [_Leans over his desk._ _Mrs. E._ But, dear, I am sure the cook is a most excellent servant, and---- _Ralph_ (_turning round and speaking with repressed exasperation_). That was simply my attempt at a humorous explanation of my wish to be alone, Matilda. _Mrs. E._ (_smiling indulgently and rising_). Well, dear, of course if it's going to be a _funny_ play, I know you would like to be alone. (_Pausing at the open door._) And will you read it to us after dinner? You know the Willoughby-Smythes will be here, and Mr. and Mrs. Vallance from the Bank are coming in afterwards. I am sure they would like to hear it. _Ralph_ (_irritably_). The play isn't written yet. (_Plaintively._) _Do_ go! _Mrs. E._ (_sweetly_). I'm sure you'd like to be alone. Don't keep dinner waiting. [_Beams on him affectionately and exits. Ralph gives a sigh of relief, rumples his hair, and then writes for a few minutes. Then pauses, leans back, biting his pencil, when the door is flung open, and a very good imitation of a whirlwind bursts into the room. The whirlwind is a robust person of forty, he has a large round red face fringed with sandy whiskers, and is one mass of health and happiness. He wears Norfolk jacket, knickerbockers, gaiters and thick boots, and carries a golfing bag. He slaps Ralph heartily on the back, and laughs boisterously. Ralph collapses._ _Tom_ (_heartily_). How are you? Going strong--what? Asked the wife for you, and she told me you were in here writing a play. Rippin' idea--what? _Ralph_ (_worried, but striving to be pleasant and polite_). What do you want, old chap? _Tom_ (_cheerfully_). Nothin' particular, only just to see how you were gettin' on--what? Do you good to have half an hour out, just a few holes--golf--what? _Ralph_ (_with great self-restraint_). Thanks, old man. Not now. You don't mind my asking you to leave me to myself a bit? _Tom_ (_amiably rising and picking up his bag_). All right, old chap, you know best--what? Thought I'd just look in--hey?--what? Well, I'm off. (_Goes to door, thinks for a moment, and then turns round._) I say, I know Thingummy's acting manager. If I can put in a word about your play--hey?--what? _Ralph_ (_rises hurriedly. Shakes hands with Tom, and skilfully manoeuvres him into the passage, then calls after him_). Good-bye, old man, and many thanks. (_Closes the door and returns to his desk, grinding his teeth._) Confound him! (_Takes up paper and writes a few lines, then reads aloud._) "Puffington puts the letter in his pocket and passes his hand through his hair. He groans 'O, why did I ever write those letters? I know Flossie, and this means fifty pounds at least, and if ever my mother-in-law gets to hear of it! O lor, here she is'" (_Puts down the paper and looks up at the ceiling._) Now, speaking to myself as one man to another, I can't help thinking that this sort of thing has been done before. I seem to have heard it somewhere. I'll--I'll--try a fresh start. (_Writes hurriedly for a few minutes and then reads._) "Scene.--Fashionable watering place, the beach is crowded; on the pier the band is playing a dreamy waltz. Edwin and Maud are discovered in an open boat. _Edwin._ You must be tired of rowing, sweetest; come and steer. _Maud._ Just as you like, darling. (_As they change seats the boat capsizes. After clinging for twenty minutes to the upturned keel, they are rescued by a passing steamer._)" That's all right for a "situation," but there seems a lack of dialogue. They can't very well talk while they are clinging to the boat; and what the deuce could they be talking about before? If I let them drown I shall have to introduce fresh characters. Bother! (_Meditates with frowning brow._) Playwriting appears to present more difficulties than I thought. (_Takes up a newspaper._) "May bring in anything from five to twenty thousand pounds!" Sounds tempting, but I wonder how it's done? [_Takes a cigar from the mantelpiece, lights it, and, seating himself near the fire, smokes thoughtfully. Gradually his head sinks back on to the top of the chair, the cigar drops from his relaxed fingers, and as he sleeps, the shadow of a smile breaks across his face. An hour elapses; he is still sleeping. Enter Mrs. Essendean, who brushes against the writing-table and sweeps the sheets of manuscript to the ground._ _Mrs. Essendean_ (_crossing to Ralph and lightly shaking him_). My dear, my dear, not dressed yet! Do you know the time--just the half-hour. (_Ralph starts up._) Eh? (_Looks at the clock._) Nearly half past, by Jove! I shan't be two seconds. [_Rushes hastily from the room._ _Mrs. Essendean (picks up the extinguished cigar, and drops it daintily into the fire. Looks round the room and sees the littering manuscript._) What an untidy old thing it is! (_Picks up the sheets, crumples them into a ball and throws them into the waste-paper basket._) There, that looks better. [_Gazes into the mirror, pats her hair, and exit._ (_End of the play._) * * * * * [Illustration: PARADOXICAL.--_Ethel._ "It was a most wonderful performance, Aunt Tabitha! First, she was shot out of a cannon's mouth on to a trapeze fifteen yards above the orchestra, and then she swung herself up till she stood on a rope on one leg at least a hundred and twenty feet above our heads!" _Aunt Tabitha._ "Ah! I always think a woman _lowers_ herself when she does that!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FORM _First Masher._ "Let's stop and look at Punch and Judy, old chappie! I've heard it's as good as a play." _Second Masher._ "I dessay it is, my brave boy. But we ain't dressed, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROPERTY HAS ITS RIGHTS SCENE: _Mr. Foote Lyter's back Drawing-room. Private Theatricals. Dress Rehearsal._ _Mr. Foote Lyter._ "I say, Drawle, while the Duke is having his scene with Dora, where am _I_ to stand!" _Captain Drawle_ (_amateur stage manager_). "Well--er--my dear fellow--er--er--it's your own house, you know--_you can stand where you like_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE POINT OF VIEW.--_Exasperated Old Gentleman_ (_to lady in front of him_). "Excuse me, madam, but my seat has cost me ten shillings, and I want to see. Your hat----" _The Lady._ "My hat has cost me ten _guineas_, sir, and I want it to _be seen_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Tomkins, who has recently made his appearance _en amateur_ as the Melancholy Dane, goes to have his photograph taken "in character." Unfortunately, on reaching the corner of the street, he finds _the road is up_, and he has to walk to the door! Tableau!!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Clever Juvenile_ (_loq._). "Shakspeare? Pooh! For my part I consider Shakspeare a very much over-rated man."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE FORTHCOMING PANTOMIME _Astonished Friend._ "Why!--Why! What on earth are these?" _Manager._ "These? Oh! These are _fairies_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S PATENT MATINEE HAT. Fitted with binocular glasses for the benefit of those sitting behind its wearer.] * * * * * [Illustration: HEARD AT A PROVINCIAL CIRCUS.--_Wag_ (_to unfortunate small gent, who has vainly endeavoured to persuade lady to remove her hat_). "Don't you see she's got a bird in her hat, sitting? You wouldn't have the lady addle-headed, would you?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE AMATEURS.--_Suburban Roscius._ "Ah, I saw you were at our 'theatricals' the other night. How did you like my assumption of _Hamlet_?" _Candid Friend._ "My dear f'llar--great'st piece of assumption I ever saw i' m' life!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUSE AND EFFECT _Eminent Provincial Tragedian._ "Come hithorr, sweet one! Your mothorr tells me that you shed teorrs during my soliloquy in exile, last night!" _Sweet One._ "Yes, sir. Mother kept on pinching me, 'cause I was so sleepy!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "EXCLUSIVE" _Our Philanthropist_ (_who often takes the shilling gallery_--_to his neighbour_). "Only a middling house." _Unwashed Artisan._ "Ay--that sixpence extry, 'rather heavy for the likes o' huz, y'know. But there's one thing--it keeps out the riff-raff!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE DRAMA.--_Æsthetic Critic_ (_at the club, after the theatre_). "Can you imagine anything more utterly solemn than the _dénoûment_ in _Romeo and Juliet_? Two lovers, both dying in the same vault! What fate more weirdly tragic could----" _Cynical Old Bachelor_ (_who has evidently never read the play_). "Um--'s no knowing. The author might 'a' married 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Distinguished Amateur_ (_about to make his first appearance in public at a concert for the people_). "Oh, I _do_ feel so nervous!" _Sympathetic Friend._ "Oh, there's no occasion to be nervous, my dear fellow. They applaud _anything_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MAIDEN'S POINT OF VIEW.--_Mamma_ (_to Maud, who has been with her brother to the play, and is full of it_). "But was there no _love_ in the piece, then?" _Maud._ "_Love?_ Oh dear no, mamma. The principal characters were _husband and wife_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LA COMEDIE FRANÇAISE _Jones_ (_who understands French so well, although he does not speak it_), _reading over list of pieces to be played at the Gaiety_:--"'Le Gendre de M. Poirier.' Why, what gender _should_ the man be, I should like to know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THOSE WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES," ETC.--_The Bishop._ "I hope your grandchildren liked the circus, Lady Godiva. That was a wonderful performance of Mlle. Petitpas on the bare-backed steed, wasn't it?" _Lady Godiva._ "Yes--a--but I dislike those bare-backed performances. They're so risky, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A very cold audience. (Suggestion for the stalls in mid-winter)] * * * * * [Illustration: A CASE OF "NO COMPRENNY" "Ha! Mistare Robinson! 'Ow do you do? 'Av you seen ze last new piece at ze 'Olleborne? Supairrb! Splendeed!! Good!!!" "A--no--I don't patronise the English drama. I like finish, delicacy, refinement; and I'm happy to say I've secured tickets for all the French plays!" "Tiens! Mais vous savez le Français, alors?" "A--I beg your pardon?" "Je vous demande si vous savez le Français, parbleu! Cruche, Melon, Baudet, Dinde, Jobard, Crétin, Momie, Colin-Maillard que vous êtes?" "A--quite so! No doubt! A--by the bye, have you seen Jones lately?"] * * * * * BETWEEN THE ACTS; OR, THE DRAMA IN LIQUOR SCENE--_Refreshment Saloon at a London Theatre. A three-play bill forms the evening's entertainment. First Act over. Enter Brown, Jones, and Robinson._ _Brown._ Well, really a very pleasant little piece. Quite amusing. Yes; I think I will have a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade. Too soon after dinner for anything stronger. _Jones._ Yes, and really, after laughing so much, one gets a thirst for what they call light refreshments. I will have some ginger-beer. _Robinson._ Well, I think I will stick to iced-water. You know the Americans are very fond of that. They always take it at meal-times, and really after that capital _équivoque_ one feels quite satisfied. (_They are served by the bar attendant._) That was really very funny, where he hides behind the door when she is not looking. [_Laughs at the recollection._ _Brown._ And when the uncle sits down upon the band-box and crushes the canary-cage! [_Chuckles._ _Jones._ Most clever. But there goes the bell, and the curtain will be up directly. Rather clever, I am told. The _Rose of Rouen_--it is founded on the life of _Joan of Arc_. I am rather fond of these historical studies. _Brown._ So am I. They are very interesting. _Robinson._ Do you think so? Well, so far as I am concerned, I prefer melodrama. Judging from the title, _The Gory Hand_ should be uncommonly good. [_Exeunt into Theatre. After a pause they return to the Refreshment Room._ _Brown._ Well, it is very clever; but I confess it beats me. (_To bar attendant._) We will all take soda-water. No, thanks, quite neat, and for these gentlemen too. _Jones._ Well, I call it a most excellent psychological study. However, wants a clear head to understand it. (_Sips his soda-water._) I don't see how she can take the flag from the Bishop, and yet want to marry the Englishman. _Robinson._ Ah, but that was before the vision. If you think it over carefully, you will see it was natural enough. Of course, you must allow for the spirit of the period, and other surrounding circumstances. _Brown._ Are you going to stay for _The Gory Hand_? _Jones._ Not I. I am tired of play-acting, and think we have had enough of it. _Robinson._ Well, I think I shall look in. I am rather fond of strong scenes, and it should be good, to judge from the programme. _Jones._ Well, we will "sit out." It's rather gruesome. Quite different from the other plays. _Robinson._ Well, I don't mind horrors--in fact, like them. There goes the bell. So I am off. Wait until I come back. _Brown._ That depends how long you are away. Ta, ta! [_Exit Robinson._ _Jones._ Now, how a fellow can enjoy a piece like that, I cannot understand. It is full of murders, from the rise to the fall of the curtain. _Brown._ Yes--but Robinson likes that sort of thing. You will see by-and-by how the plot will affect him. It is rather jumpy, especially at the end, when the severed head tells the story of the murder to the assistant executioner. I would not see it again on any account. _Jones._ No--it sent my maiden aunt in hysterics. However, it has the merit of being short. (_Applause._) Ah, there it's over! Let's see how Robinson likes it. That _tableau_ at the end, of the starving-coastguardsman expiring under the rack, is perfectly awful! (_Enter Robinson, staggering in._) Why, my boy, what's the matter? _Brown._ You do look scared! Have something to drink? That will set it all to-rights! _Robinson_ (_with his eyes protruding from his head, from horror_). Help, help! help! (_After a long shudder._) Brandy! Brandy!! Brandy!!! [_At all the places at the bar there is a general demand for alcohol._ _Brown._ Yes. Irving was right; soda-water does very well for Shakspeare's histories, but when you come to a piece like _The Bells_, you require supporting. [_Curtain and moral._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Manager of "Freak" Show._ "Have I got a vacancy for a giant? Why, you don't look five feet!" _Candidate._ "Yes, that's just it. I'm the smallest giant on record!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN IRRESISTIBLE APPEAL.--_Mrs. Blokey_ (_who has called with a letter of introduction on Mr. Roscius Lamborn, the famous actor and manager_). "And I've brought you my son, who's breakin' his mother's 'art, Mr. Lamborn! He insists on givin' up the city and goin' on the stage--and his father an alderman and 'im in his father's business, and all the family thought of so 'ighly in Clapham! It's a _great grief_ to us, _I assure_ you, Mr. Lamborn! Oh! if you could only dissuade 'im! But it's too late for that, I'm afraid, so p'raps you wouldn't mind givin' him a leadin' part in your next piece!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT OUR DRAMATIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_His Wife_ (_reading a Sunday paper_). "_A propos of Hamlet_, they say here that you and Shakspeare represent the very opposite poles of the dramatic art!" _He._ "Ah! that's a nasty one for Shakspeare!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD OUTSIDE A THEATRE "Yah! Waitin' ter see der _kids_ play!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Actor_ (_excitedly_). "For _two_ long _years_ have I----" _A Voice from above._ "So you 'ave, guv'nor!"] * * * * * [Illustration: STUDY Of an ancient buck at a modern burlesque] * * * * * [Illustration: COLOURED CLERGY (_A Memory of St. James's Hall_) _Uncle_ (_can't see so well as he did, and a little hard of hearing_). "Who do you say they are, my dear!--Christian ministers? 'Ncom'ly kind of 'em to give a concert, to be sure! For a charitable purpose, I've no doubt, my dear!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SUPEREROGATION _Country Maid_ (_having first seen "missus" and the children into a cab_). "O, coachman, do you know the principal entrance to Drury Lane Theat----?" _Crabbed Old Cabby_ (_with expression of ineffable contempt_). "Do I know! Kim aup----!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones_ (_alluding to the song_). "Not bad; but I think the girl might have put a little more _spirit_ into it with advantage." _Lushington._ "Jush 't I was thinkin'. Lesh avanother!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AFTER THE THEATRICALS.--"What on earth made you tell that appalling little cad that he ought to have trod the boards of ancient Greece! You surely didn't really admire his acting?" "Oh no! But, you know, the Greek actors used to wear masks!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Jemmy! What's a stall at the hopera?" "Well, I can't say, not for certain; but I suppose it's where they sells the happles, horanges, ginger-beer, and biskits."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Please, sir! give us your ticket if you aint agoin' in again."] * * * * * [Illustration: A DOMESTIC DRAMA "Admit two to the boxes."] * * * * * [Illustration: PROGRESS _Young Rustic._ "Gran'fa'r, who was Shylock?" _Senior_ (_after a pause_). "Lauk a' mussy, bo', yeou goo to Sunday skewl, and don't know that!"] * * * * * "HAMLET" A LA SAUCE DUMB-CRAMBO [Illustration: "Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt!"--Act I., Sc. 2.] [Illustration: "I could a tail unfold!"--_Ibid._] [Illustration: "What a falling off was there!"--_Ibid._] [Illustration: "Methinks I scent the morning hair!"--_Ibid._] [Illustration: "Brief let me be!"--_Ibid._] [Illustration: "Lend thy serious ear-ring to what I shall unfold!"--Act I., Sc. 5.] [Illustration: "Toby, or not Toby? that is the question."--Act II., Sc. 2.] [Illustration: "The King, sir."--"Ay, sir, what of him?"--"Is in his retirement marvellous distempered."--"With drink, sir!"--"No, my lord, rather with collar!"--Act III., Sc. 2.] [Illustration: "Oh, my offence is rank!"--Act III., Sc. 3.] [Illustration: "Put your bonnet to his right use--'tis for the head."--Act V., Sc. 2.] * * * * * [Illustration: "COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE THEM." _Domesticated Wife._ "Oh, George, I wish you'd just----" _Talented Husband_ (_author of various successful comic songs for music halls, writer of pantomimes and variety-show libretti_). "Oh, for goodness sake, Lucy, don't bother me _now_! You might _see_ I'm trying to work out some _quite_ new lines for the fairy in the transformation scene of the pantomime!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SENSITIVE EAR. _Intelligent Briton._ "But we have no theatre, no actors worthy of the name, mademoiselle! Why, the English delivery of blank verse is simply torture to an ear accustomed to hear it given its full beauty and significance by a Bernhardt or a Coquelin!" _Mademoiselle._ "Indeed? I have never heard Bernhardt or Coquelin recite English blank verse!" _Intelligent Briton._ "Of course not. I mean _French_ blank verse--the blank verse of Corneille, Racine, Molière!" _Mademoiselle._ "Oh, monsieur, there is no such thing!" [_Briton still tries to look intelligent._ ] * * * * * DUMB-CRAMBO'S GUIDE TO THE LONDON THEATRES [Illustration: Drew wry lane] [Illustration: Cove in garden] [Illustration: Cry-teary 'un] [Illustration: Prints of whales] [Illustration: "A--mark it!"] [Illustration: Gay at tea] [Illustration: Princesses and royal tea] [Illustration: Globe] [Illustration: "Scent, James?"] [Illustration: Strand and "save, hoi!"] [Illustration: Only in play!] [Illustration: The actor who has his head turned with applause] * * * * * [Illustration: CURTAIN-RAISERS _ Extract from Ethel's correspondence_:--"At the last moment something went wrong with the curtain, and we had to do without one! It was awful! But the Rector explained matters to the front row, and they came to the rescue _nobly_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Well, how did the new play go off last night?" "Oh, there was a sleep-walking scene in the third act that was rather effective." "_À la Lady Macbeth_, eh?" "Well--not exactly. It was the audience that got up in its sleep and walked out!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC HALL TYPES I.--The "Lion Comique"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC HALL TYPES II.--The "Serio"] * * * * * [Illustration: MUSIC HALL TYPES III.--The "Refined Comedian"] * * * * * [Illustration: ON TOUR.--_Heavy Tragedian._ "Do you let apartments to--ah--the profession?" _Unsophisticated Landlady._ "Oh, yes, sir. Why, last week we had the performing dogs here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ART AND NATURE. (_Overheard during the Private Theatricals._)-- _She._ "How well your wife plays _Lady Geraldine_, Mr. Jones. I think the way she puts on that awful affected tone is just splendid. How _does_ she manage it?" _Mr. Jones_ (_with embarrassment_). "Er--she doesn't. That's her natural voice."] * * * * * [Illustration: CONVINCING] * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] * * * * * BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
38146	----	MR. PUNCH ON THE WARPATH PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: MILITARY EDUCATION. _General._ "Mr. de Bridoon, what is the general use of cavalry in modern warfare?" _Mr. de Bridoon._ "Well, I suppose to give tone to what would otherwise be a mere vulgar brawl!"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH ON THE WARPATH [Illustration] HUMOURS OF THE ARMY, THE NAVY AND THE RESERVE FORCES _WITH 136 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY REGINALD CLEAVER, R. CATON WOODVILLE, TOM BROWNE, L. RAVEN-HILL, C. L. POTT, CHARLES PEARS, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, G. D. ARMOUR, FRED. PEGRAM, GEORGE DU MAURIER, PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE AND OTHERS PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five Volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] "FORWARD!" Was there ever protean like MR. PUNCH! The little man is a wonder. In so many guises do we encounter him--now as tourist, again as playgoer, as huntsman, as artist, as bohemian, and equally as stay-at-home philistine, on the bench and on the golf-links, ashore and afloat, where not and how not?--that we need be in no wise surprised to find him on the warpath. Is he not the official jester of a warlike people? Of course it may be suggested that in the present book we do not have what is entirely a record of his achievements on many a well-fought field. There are not many echoes here of real red war, but the mimic battle with its humours is well in evidence. The only recent experience of the real thing leaves MR. PUNCH too sore of heart to say much about it. But as we are all believers in the maxim "in time of peace prepare for war," and as most of our time is peaceful, we are always "preparing"--hence, perhaps, the reason why we are never ready. But there is a deal of humour in the process, and it is for fun we look to MR. PUNCH. Nor shall we look vainly here, for in the past Charles Keene found many of his happiest subjects in the humours of military life and volunteering, while to-day Mr. Raven-Hill, himself an enthusiastic volunteer, ably carries on the tradition, and has many brilliant aiders and abettors. MR. PUNCH is, by turns, general, drum major, full private, cavalry man and "kiltie," he is also A. B. when the occasion serves, and would be horse-marine if necessary! At all events he has given the command, and it's "Forward!" [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH ON THE WARPATH [Illustration] WATERLOO UP-TO-DATE _(a fact)_. _Belgian Guide._ Ze brave Picton 'e fall in ze arms of _victoire_---- _Facetious Britisher._ Where was Lord Roberts? _Guide (not to be done)._ Lord Robert 'e stand on _zis montagne_, and 'e cry, "Hoop, Garde, and at zem!" * * * * * The report that there are 46,719 total abstainers in the British Army is welcome news, but what grieves recruiting officers is the number of total abstainers from the British Army. * * * * * CURIOUS MILITARY FACT.--The seat of war is always the spot where two forces are standing up to one another. * * * * * A SPOT TO BE AVOIDED BY ROYAL ARTILLERYMEN.--Gunnersbury. * * * * * ADVICE FOR MARTINETS.--Military authorities should consider whether it would not be advisable to abate a little of their solicitude for the tidiness of a regiment, and pay somewhat more attention to its mess. * * * * * AMONG WARRIORS. _Interested Patron._ So I see you lost an arm in the battle. _An Atkins ("back from the Front")._ Ay, sir, and my companion here _(indicating Atkins No. 2)_ he lost a leg. _Patron._ And your Colonel--in the same battle, eh? _Atkins No. 2._ Ah! he was worse off than either of us, sir; he lost his head. * * * * * ARMY CHAPLAINS.--Wouldn't they be all doubly serviceable in time of war if they were all canons? * * * * * [Illustration: _Bluejacket (in charge of party of sightseers)._ "Here Nelson fell." _Old Lady._ "An' I don't wonder at it, poor dear. Nasty slippery place! I nearly fell there myself!"] * * * * * "THE BLACK WATCH" The Black Watch will go night and day. The Black Watch can be depended upon in any climate. The Black Watch always keeps time. The Black Watch is never out of gear. The Black Watch wants no "winding up." The Black Watch can be warranted for any period. * * * * * _Historian of the War (to Private of the Dublin Fusiliers)._ Now tell me, my man, what struck you most at the battle of Colenso? _P. of D. F._ Begorra, sorr, fwhat shtruck me mosht was the shower of bullets that missed me. * * * * * A MYSTERY FROM SHOEBURY.--When does the cannon ball? When the Vickers-Maxim. * * * * * "Yes, my dear Lavinia," says Mrs. Ramsbotham, rather annoyed with her niece, "I _do_ know perfectly well what a soldier's 'have-a-snack' is. It is so-called because he carries his lunch in it. No, my dear, I am not so ignorant as you may think." * * * * * [Illustration: _Fond Mother (reading letter from only son at the front)._ "Charlie says our Generals are perfect idiots!"] * * * * * FASHIONS FOR BAZAARS (_From the Note-book of a Male Impressionist_) _How to represent the Army._--Long skirt of gauzy material, parasol tied with tricolour ribands, silk blouse with epauletted sleeves and a Crimean medal pinned on to a bunch of flowers. High-heeled shoes. Regimental levée scarf worn over the left shoulder. Tiny cocked hat attached to the hair by two long pins and a small silk flag. _How to represent the Navy._--Short skirt decorated with brooch anchors. Garibaldi with naval collar. Bag hanging from waist-belt with silver letters H.M.S. _Coquette_. Hair built up _à la_ "Belle of New York" surmounted with a small sailor hat decorated with streamers. * * * * * SOMETHING MILITARY.--The officers of the Blankshire Cavalry possess, individually and collectively, more money than those of any other regiment in His Majesty's service. If this be so--we name no names--these gallant heroes ought to be known as "The Tin Soldiers." * * * * * HOW EFFECTUALLY TO PRODUCE "SILENCE IN THE RANKS."--Use the _Dum Dum_ bullets. * * * * * [Illustration: PAID IN HIS OWN COIN; OR, WHAT WE SHOULD LIKE TO SEE. _Convicted Contractor._ "Look here! I can't walk in these boots, and I can't eat this food!" _Warder Punch_. "Well, you've got to; it's what you supplied to the troops."] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR NON-COMS. _Orderly Sergeant (to officer)._ "Beg your pardon, sorr, but 'm wan ration short. Who will I give it to?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MILITARY PERIL. _Old Lady (to member of signalling section, who has just commenced to reply to a message)._ "Young man, if you think to alarm _me_ by wagging those flags about, you are very much mistaken!"] * * * * * THE BEAUTY OF BISLEY That it takes you away from town in the dog days for a clear fortnight. That, being farther away from London than Wimbledon, you escape the more easily the attention of those who love tea, flirtation, and strawberries and cream. That there is plenty to do at the ranges with the rifle, and to see in the neighbourhood on a bicycle. That the conversation of your comrades is congenial, if slightly "shoppy." That, after all, it is better to talk all day of scores, than of links or tyres. That if the life becomes too monotonous, a train can carry you back to Waterloo in forty minutes. That life under canvas is recommended by the doctors when it is subject to certain favourable climatic conditions. That, with the power of enjoying your outing to the end, or cutting it short at the beginning, you can yet claim credit for your self-denial and patriotism. * * * * * [Illustration: CORONA FINIT OPUS. _Mary Anne._ "When are they going to start this army reform they talk such a lot about?" _Private Atkins._ "Why bless your 'eart, _it's all done_! Look at our new caps!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ALDERSHOT CAMPAIGN _Private Sweeny (Highland regiment)._ "Colony bog, is it? Thin bedad! I wish I was back in Tipperary!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BANTING IN THE YEOMANRY _Troop Sergeant-Major._ "It comes to this, captain, 'a mun e'ther hev' a new jacket or knock off one o' my meals!"] * * * * * UNIFORMITY SCENE--_Pall Mall. Enter officer in full uniform hurriedly. He is stopped by messenger._ _Messenger._ Yes, sir? _Officer._ I want to see the Commander-in-Chief at once. _Messenger._ Very sorry, sir, but that gentleman who has just entered the room is likely to be there for the next three hours. He came here two minutes before your arrival. _Officer._ But is a civilian allowed to take precedence of an officer in full uniform? _Messenger._ Beg your pardon, sir, but he is not a civilian; but an officer like yourself. _Officer._ And yet he is admitted in mufti! Why, here have I had to come up from the country in full rig, being chaffed at the railway station, grinned at by the cabman, and cheered by the crowd! _Messenger._ Yes, sir. Very sorry you should have been inconvenienced, sir, especially as it was unnecessary, sir! _Officer._ Unnecessary! Why, doesn't the order come into force to-day that all officers who appear in the War Office for any purpose whatsoever must be attired in the proper uniform of their rank and regiment? _Messenger._ No, sir. To-morrow, sir, the _second_ of April, is the proper date. To-day, sir, is the _first_ of April. _Officer._ And the first of April is surely the most appropriate date! Quite the most appropriate date! _Messenger._ Yes, sir! (_Curtain._) * * * * * The War Office is taking steps to turn its surplus cavalrymen into foot soldiers. We see nothing ridiculous in the idea--as some persons profess to. We already have Mounted Infantry. Now we are to have Dismounted Cavalry. * * * * * AN IMPOSSIBLE MANOEUVRE IN AUTUMN.--To be in the March past. * * * * * THE BEST MILITARY DRAWING.--Drawing your pay. * * * * * [Illustration: THE HANDY MAN.--What he will have to become, if recruiting for the navy continues to fall off, and many more new battleships are constructed.] * * * * * [Illustration: DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE _Hector._ "Now then, young feller--who are you staring at?" _Hodge._ "Whoy shouldn't I stare at yer? _I pays vor yer!_"] * * * * * NOT FOR PATRICK! ["It has been proposed that the kilt should be the uniform of the new Irish Guards."--_Daily Paper._] What! take away the throusers off our pathriotic knees, As if we were a regiment of disordherly M.P.'s? Och! sorrer take the wicked thought, for histhory it teaches, An Oirishman is happiest when foightin' in the breaches. What! Wear them bits of pitticoats that blow about and twirl Around your blushin' knees? No, faith! Oi'm not a bally girl! No! Oi'm an Oirish souldier, an' me blood Oi've often spilt it, But though Oi'm willin' to be kilt, Oi'll die before Oi'm kilted. * * * * * In order to check extravagance in the Cavalry, the authorities have decided that "fines of money or wine are no longer to be levied on marriage or promotion, _or in respect of any minor irregularities_." In future the officer who commits the major irregularity of being promoted will not need to say, with the _King of Denmark_, "O, my offence is rank!" * * * * * [Illustration: "MANNING THE (BACK-)YARDS" Chelsea, June, 1891. Four Bell(e)s.] * * * * * MILITARY SURGERY DEAR FIELD-MARSHAL PUNCH.--In a telegram from the seat of war this week I find the following obscure passage. "General Blank held the enemy's main body whilst General Dash carried out his movements." Knowing your skill in tactics, may I ask if you can explain this to me either verbally or pictorially. Used in contradistinction to his main body, I presume the enemy's "movements" must be his limbs, and if all four were carried out by this barbarous general, it would be certainly a feat of arms, and the movement might be said to be al-leg-ro. Nothing is said as to whether the enemy survived this fearful operation depriving him of his members, but it may be a case of a truncated despatch. Then, where were the movements carried out to? If the presumption stated above be correct, I infer it must have been to the region of limbo, but the army in Flanders never practised such lopsided manoeuvres. Yours respectfully, CORPORAL TRIM. * * * * * [Illustration: "ALL'S WELL!" _Cockney Volunteer_ (_on sentry go_). "Halt! Who goes there?" _Rustic._ "It's all roight, man. Oi cooms along 'ere ev'ry maarnin'!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SKIRMISHING IN PERSPECTIVE "A good skirmisher, if there is no cover, should hide behind his boots!"] * * * * * _Elder Sister_ (_coming up_). "Kitty! what have you been saying to Captain Coward? He looks dreadfully offended!" _Kitty_ (_engaged to the Captain_). "I only told him that if he had gone to the war and been shot, I should have been so proud of him!" * * * * * WAR NEWS.--"Reports of Conflicts," _i.e._, "Conflicting Reports." * * * * * "AN ARMED NATION" ["The War Office has decided to grant one rifle to every ten men joining the new rifle clubs, throughout the country."--_Daily Press._] EXTRACT FROM THE NEW RULES 1. In face of the enemy the rifle must be fired as quickly as possible, and then passed on to the next man. 2. No squabbling in the ranks, as to whose turn it is to shoot, shall be allowed by the commanding officer, and his decision shall be final. 3. The other nine men, whilst awaiting their turn, must stand at "attention," and scowl fiercely at the enemy. 4. Where the commanding officer, in his discretion, sees opportunity for so doing, he shall employ several men simultaneously, to fire the rifle--_i.e._ one to hold the rifle to his shoulder, a second to close his left eye, and a third to pull the trigger. This plan would leave only seven men out of ten unemployed. 5. The above-named seven would be at liberty to throw things at the enemy whilst awaiting their turn for the rifle. 6. In actual warfare, the commanding officer may request the enemy to wait a reasonable time whilst the solitary rifle is handed round, after being fired off. 7. Whilst an attack is going on, the unemployed men of a company shall not be allowed to leave the ranks to play, but should be encouraged to take an intelligent interest in the shooting prowess of their solitary comrade. * * * * * [Illustration: _North Cork Militia Man._ "Am I to shalute him, or no? Begor. I wondher if he's a sarvan'-man or a giniral."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE IMPERIAL YEOMANRY. _Recruit._ "Look 'ere, mister, it ain't no good. This saddle won't go on this 'ere 'orse. I got it over is 'ead all right, but I can't get 'is legs through nohow!"] * * * * * THE NECESSARY KIT ["A housewife will in future form part of the free kit of necessaries."--_Army Order._] It 'as long been my opinion, as a sodger and a man, That I couldn't get on proper, not without yer, Sairey Ann. Well, now 'ere's the latest horder--just yer take a read of it-- That a housewife shall be a portion of the necessary kit. Oh, them horders! Ain't I cussed 'em! Oh, the shockin' words I've said! But now for once, my Sairey, I'm a-blessin' 'em instead. Yus, they misses pretty horfen, but at last they've made a hit, For yer going to be a portion of my necessary kit. They're to serve out housewifes gratis, an' I only 'opes, my pet, That they'll let us Tommies choose ourselves the gals we wants to get, 'Twould be takin' of the gildin' off the gingerbread a bit If I got yer mar, for instance, in my necessary kit. But we'll 'ope the best, my Sairey, though yer can't for certain tell, And I ain't got much opinion of them parties in Pall Mall, But for once they've put a bullet in the bull's eye, I'll admit, If they makes my Sairey portion of my necessary kit. * * * * * "ADVANCE NOTES" (_Military_).--The bugler's. * * * * * [Illustration: _Boatswain_ (_to newly-joined cadet_). "Come, my little man, you mustn't cry on board of one of His Majesty's ships of war. Did your mother cry when you left?" _Cadet._ "Yes, sir." _Boatswain._ "Silly old woman! And did your sister cry?" _Cadet._ "Yes, sir." _Boatswain._ "Stupid little thing! And did your father cry?" _Cadet._ "No, sir." _Boatswain._ "'Ard-'earted old beggar!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE," &c. _Fair Visitor_ (_with a thirst for military knowledge_). "So all the kitchens are behind those buildings. How very interesting! And how many pounds of meat do your men eat a day?" _Gallant Major._ "Really--er--I've no--er--idea, I'm sure, don't y'know." _Fair Visitor._ "But I thought you were in the provisional battalion!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Officer_ (_to Irish sentry on guard tent_). "Why don't you face your proper front, sentry?" _Sentry._ "Sure, yer honour, the tint's round. Divil a front it's got!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SANDHURST AND ITS MESSES. _General Bouncer_ (_on a round of inspection at Sandhurst_). "Augh! Can you tell me what 'mess' this is?" _Cadet._ "Well, they call it 'mutton,' but I wouldn't vouch for it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A VOLUNTEER REVIEW (1865) The portrait of Private O'Locker on finding his billet is at a teetotal hotel.] * * * * * [Illustration: EXPLAINED.--_Auntie_ (_explaining morning manoeuvres of His Majesty's Life Guards on their way to relieve guard at Whitehall_). "Don't you see? There's two, and then there's one, and then there's the whole lot--and then there's two more!" [Youthful niece sees. ] * * * * * [Illustration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS.--_Jack_ (_singing at the top of his voice_)--"There's only _one_ girl in the world for me!"--_Popular Song._] * * * * * [Illustration: [According to the _Daily Telegraph_ zebra mules have been introduced into India by the Remount Department for military purposes. Would not their introduction--as above--into Whitehall lend a new and even more quaintly picturesque touch of grandeur to the scene? ] * * * * * MR. BROWN AT BREAKFAST ON THE ARMY. Astonishing lot of nonsense the _Daily Wire_ prints about military affairs ... no, I do _not_ waste my time reading it. Any intelligent citizen, Mary, is bound to take an interest in things of this sort. And our army is rotten, madam--rotten to the core.... What? That reminds you, shall Tomkins be told to pick the apples? As you please--I'm not talking about apples. Just consider these manoeuvres, and the plain common-sense lessons they teach you. First of all, a force lands in England without opposition. There's a pretty state of things!... No, I didn't say they _had_ interfered with us--but just think of the disgrace! Not one general, madam, not one single general capable of defending this unhappy country. And yet it is to support these expensive frauds that I have to pay taxes!... Well, if he calls again, tell him that I will attend to the matter. There's the rent and rates to be seen to first, and goodness knows, with your housekeeping and Ethel's dress bills--but I was talking about the army. Incompetent profligates, that's what the officers are. What sort of life do they lead? Getting up late, playing polo and hunting, eating luxurious dinners, bullying respectable young men and ducking them in horse-ponds--there's a life for you.... What do you know _about_ it, Miss Ethel?... Captain Ponsonby told you? You can tell _him_ something then. Tell him that Britons of common-sense--like myself--don't mean to stand the present way of going on much longer. Drastic changes.... No, I'm not trying to break the table, Mary ... drastic changes are absolutely necessary. First of all, there must be a clean sweep at the War Office. Men of brains and common-sense are wanted there. Then we must organise a great army, to guard the coast all round England. The man who will not serve his time as a militiaman or volunteer is not worthy of the name of English-man, and the fruit.... I told you once about those apples, I do wish you wouldn't interrupt.... If they are not picked to-day they'll have to wait for three weeks? Why? Tomkins can pick them next time he comes. As I was saying, the militia system must be developed, and--eh? Tomkins won't be here for three weeks? Got to go into camp for his training? Well, I call it perfectly disgraceful! Here I pay a man high wages to attend to my garden once a week, and then this miserable system takes him away, at the most inconvenient time, to play at soldiers!... If I have time to-night, Mary, I shall write a strongish letter to the _Daily Wire_ on the subject. * * * * * SCENE--_Barrack Square, after inspection of arms, at which the Company's Commander has been examining his men's rifle-bores with the aid of the little reflector which is commonly dropped into the breach for this purpose._ _Private Atkins_ (_who has been checked for a dirty rifle_). 'Ere, it's all bally fine! The orficer 'e comes an' looks down the barrel with a bloomin' mikeroscope, and the privit soljer 'e 'as to clean 'is rifle with 'is naked heye! * * * * * MOTTO FOR A BAZAAR IN AID OF MILITARY FUNDS.--"Oh, the wild charge they made!" * * * * * [Illustration: The illustrated papers oft with satisfaction grunt, When they print a pleasing portrait of "our artist at the front." Now here we have a picture of a sort we seem to lack. Which is to say, a portrait of "Our artist at the back".] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR RESERVES.--_A.-D.-C_. "What the deuce are you men doing here right in the line of fire? Clear out at once! They're firing ball cartridge, not blank." _Unmoved Private_ (_who has found an excellent place from which to view the attack practice_). "Ther' now. We was just a-zaying as we thought 'twas bullets by the zound of 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNRECORDED HISTORY.--A review of the Royal (Sub)marines near the Goodwin Sands. (_You could hardly "tell the Marines" in their new sub-aqueous uniform._)] * * * * * DISTRIBUTION OF NAVAL MEDALS We are happy to announce that the Lords of the Admiralty have issued an order for the distribution of medals to the officers and seamen who served in the naval actions hereunder specified. We understand the medals are of gold, set round with diamonds of the most costly description. Great caution will be used in the distribution, to prevent fraud in personating deceased officers, &c. A.D. 876. King Alfred's engagement with and destruction of the Danish fleet. --1350. Great sea-fight between the English and the combined fleets of France and Spain. --1588. Destruction of the Spanish Armada. --1702. Admiral Benbow's engagement with the French. --1761. Siege and capture of Belleisle. N.B. No officer or seaman will be entitled to a medal in respect of the last-mentioned siege, unless he can satisfy their lordships that he was "there all the while." * * * * * [Illustration: RATHER SEVERE. _Regular_ (_manoeuvring with Yeomanry_). "Got to give up my arms, have I? Umph! This comes of going out with a lot of darned Volunteers."] * * * * * [Illustration: YEOMANRY MANOEUVRES. (FIRST DAY IN CAMP.)--_Officer._ "What's all this? What are you doing with that cask?" _Trooper._ "Tent equipment, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR REVIEW.--The colonel is wondering what manoeuvre he ought to execute in the circumstances.] * * * * * [Illustration: MANOEUVRES.--_Lieutenant Nobs_ (_just arrived_). "How long will you take to drive me to the fort, Cabby?" _Cabby._ "Ten minutes, Capting, by the shortcut through the halleys. But the military allus goes the long way round, through the fashionable part o' the town, yer honour, which takes an hour." [_Cabby gets his hour._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: TECHNICAL EDUCATION IN THE ARMY. _Officer_ (_examining a Mounted Infantry class_). "Well, I think you understand about the hoof and what the frog is. Now, just tell me where you would expect to find corns?" _Mounted Infantry Recruit_ (_suspecting a catch_). "In the manger, sir."] * * * * * [Illustration: MILITARY INTELLIGENCE. _Musketry Instructor_ (_who wishes, by simple practical examples, to bring the fact of the air's resistance and elasticity to the mind of intelligent pupil, No. 450, Private Jones_), _loq._ "For instance, you have seen an air-cushion, and felt that it contained something you could not compress. What was it?" _Private Jones_ (_readily_). "'Orse 'air, sir!" [_Enthusiastic instructor tries again._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: DIVERSIONS OF DRILL (1860). _Captain of Volunteers._ "Dress back, No. 3, do dress back. Comp'ny! Fours! As y' were! No. 3, Mr. Buffles, how often am I to speak to you, sir? Will you dress back, sir; further still, sir. You are not dressed exactly yet, sir, by a----" _Buffles_ (_goaded to madness_). "Bet yer five pounds I am--there!"] * * * * * LATEST WAR INTELLIGENCE [Illustration] In the House of Commons, and elsewhere, the Secretary of State for War is accustomed to have appeals made to him to assist in providing facilities for the engagement and remunerative occupation of soldiers and non-commissioned officers no longer on active service. We are glad to notice, from the subjoined advertisement, which appeared in the _Daily News_, that the public themselves are taking the matter in hand:-- TWO GENERALS WANTED, as Cook and Housemaid for one lady. Light, comfortable situation. Good wages.--Apply, &c. The advertiser, it will be observed, flies at higher rank than that usually considered in this connection. But the situation is "light" and "comfortable," with "good wages" pertaining, and she has some right to look for applicants of superior station. We presume that on festive occasions the gallant officers would be expected to don their uniforms. Few things would be more striking than to see a general, probably wearing his war medals, sweeping the front door-step, whilst through the kitchen window a glimpse was caught of a brother officer, in full tog, larding a pheasant. * * * * * By the courtesy of the Admiralty H.M.S. _Buzzard_ has been anchored as a permanent guardship of honour immediately opposite the approach to _Mr Punch's_ offices in Bouverie Street. The compliment is much appreciated. * * * * * Further changes in our Navy are announced. Chaplains are to be abolished, and the navigating officers are to include in their duties those of sky-pilots. * * * * * A COCKNEY'S QUESTION ON THE NAVY.--Does a Port Admiral mean an Admiral who is laid down for a long series of years, and not decanted for service till he is very old? * * * * * A JOVIAL CREW.--Jack Tars in a jolly-boat. * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE SICK BAY. _Fleet Surgeon._ "There doesn't seem much wrong with you, my man. What's the matter?" _A. B._ "Well, sir, it's like this, sir. I _eats_ well, an' I _drinks_ well, an' I _sleeps_ well; but when I sees a job of work--there, I'm all of a tremble!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FIELD TRAINING NOTES.--(_Aldershot._) _General_ (_to Irish recruit_). "Can you tell me how many species of pack animals there are?" (_No answer._) _General._ "Well, do you know _any_ kind of pack animal?" _Recruit_ (_inspired by recollection of many days' pack-drill_.) "Yes, sorr. A defaulter, sorr!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Colonel_ (_who is taking a turn round to see how his subs are getting along with their road sketching_). "You know, this won't do. You should be able to _ride_ about the country, and make sketches as you go." _Jones_ (_not getting along at all nicely, thank you_). "Well, sir, if I could do that, sir, I should chuck up the army, and join a circus!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "COULDN'T MAKE 'UN SPEAK." _Infuriated C. O. 10th V. B. Mudfordshire Fusiliers_ (_who has ordered bugler to sound the "Cease fire" several times without effect_). "Don't you hear me, fellow? Why the deuce don't you sound the 'Cease fire' when I tell you?" _His Bugler._ "If ye plaze, zur, a've blowed a quid o' bacca down spout t'ould trumputt, awn I can't make un speak!"] * * * * * SOLDIERS OF MISFORTUNE ["Colonel Crofton, commanding the Eastern District, has decided that the 'quiff' is 'unsoldierly,' and 'disfiguring,' and has ukased its abolition. The 'quiff' is the forelock worn by Mr. Thomas Atkins."--_Pall Mall Gazette._] _Letter from a Private in the British Army to a Private in the German Army._ Dere Ole Sauerkraut,--Ow' 're yer going along? Jest a line from the Eastern Distric' to tell yer that we've all got the fair 'ump. An' I'm blest if our colonel ain't an' been pitchin' on our 'air. When we 'is in the fightin' line they yells, "Keep your 'air on, boys!" but when we gets 'ome, sweet 'ome, they says take it orf. There's 'air! I must tell yer we wears a hartful curl on our forrids wot is knowed as a "quiff," and I give yer my word it's a little bit ov orl rite! Susan (with lots o' cash as bein' only daughter of a plumber), wot I walks out with, simply 'angs on to it with both 'ands, so to speak. Well, our colonel says the "quiff" is "unsoldierly" and "disfiguring," and we 'ave got to bloomin' well lop it orf, no hank. This busts my charnst with Susan. Yores melancholy-like, THOMAS ATKINS. * * * * * ["The German uniform is to be changed to a grey-brown. The officers are particularly annoyed at the change, and complain that they might at least have been allowed to keep the bright buttons on their tunics. These are also to be dulled down to the new drab _régime_. Everything that is not strictly utilitarian--tassels, lace, and decorations--is to be banished from the parade-ground."--_Westminster Gazette._] _Letter from a Private in the German Army to a Private in the British Army._ Mein Gut Friend,--We haf the both trouble much got! You haf the beautiful Susan _verloren_. I my Katrine am deprived of. Because why? I was so schmart lookin' in mein regimentalen blue dat Katrine fell in luff with me on first sighten and called me in ways of fun her "leetle blue _teufel_"! But now, ach Himmel! she at me _cochet die snooken!_ "Cuts," as you say. I broken-ar-arted quite am. Because why? The Office die Warren as us ordered to take off der blue regimentalen. We haf in brown-grey to dress ourselves. Ah! dirdy, bad, rotten colour! And no more ze _schon_ buttons to haf that the beating heart of Katrine conquered. Farewell to Katrine! She brown ates.--Zo longen KARL SCHNEIDER. * * * * * QUERY BY THE NAVY LEAGUE.--Does Brittania rule the waves, or does she mean to waive her rule? * * * * * _Commander._ What is your complaint against this boy? _Bluejacket._ Well, sir, as I was a-walkin' arft, this 'ere boy, 'e up an' calls me a bloomin' idjit. Now, 'ow would you like to be called a bloomin' idjit, supposin' you wasn't one? * * * * * [Illustration: THE PERILS OF MIMIC WAR. _Motor Lieutenant, Motor Volunteer Corps_ (_to General in his charge_). "I say, sir, if we"--(_bump!_)--"upset"--(_bang!_)--"shall I get"--(_bump! bang!_)--"a military funeral too?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Perilous position of a gallant officer of Volunteers, on a recent march, who (ever thoughtful for the comfort of his hired charger) chooses the cooling waters of the ford in preference to the bridge._ "Here! Hi! Help, somebody! Hold on! I mean halt! He won't come out, and he wants to lie down, and I believe he's going to rear!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NAVAL REVIEW (_From an Antique_)] * * * * * TRAFALGAR DAY.--(_At the Board School._) _Teacher._ Now can any boy tell me why Nelson's column was erected in Trafalgar Square? _Johnny Grimes_ (_immediately_). Please, sir, to 'elp 'im up to 'eaven, when 'e died in the arms of the Wictory. * * * * * [Illustration: REMOUNTS FOR THE YEOMANRY _Horse-buying "Expert."_ "Yes, it certainly does look more like a 'towel-horse' than anything else; still it'll have to do!"--Passed.] * * * * * [Illustration: "How dreadfully stout the general is getting!" "Yes, isn't it fortunate? Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wear all his medals!"] * * * * * SOOTHSAYINGS FOR SAILORS Augury from fowls of air Back to Tuscan gramarye dates. Birds in February pair: Now then, skippers, choose your mates. * * * * * [Illustration: IMPERTINENT CURIOSITY _Military Man._ "Well! What are yer a starin' at--ain't yer never seed a sodger before?"] * * * * * THE FORTUNE OF WAR (_A fragment of a Military Romance, to be published a few years hence_) ["The long-proposed introduction of motor-cars into the army for transport purposes is on the point of accomplishment."--_The Outlook._] ... "COMRADES!" cried the proud general, addressing his troops (standing around him in the circular square ordered by the latest drill book), "at last we are about to reap the reward of our exertions. Thanks to our trusty motor-cars, we have traversed the desert at an average speed of twenty-five miles an hour. Our casualties have been few and insignificant. A dozen or so of the engines blew up, but not more than fifty men perished by these accidents. We have, indeed, to mourn the loss of some of the 75th Dragoons, whose motor-car went wrong in its steering, and rushed at express speed into the middle of a lake. And not a few of our heroes have been arrested by the native police on the charge of furious driving, with the result that they now languish in dungeons, awaiting bail. But what are these trifles, compared with the glory that will soon be ours? The enemy are now within thirty miles of us--a distance which, with a little extra pressure, we can cover in an hour. So, forward! Mount motor-cars! Tie down the safety-valves! Seize starting levers! Now, when I give the word! Are you read----" At this moment a grey-haired officer interrupted him. "Alas, sir!" he cried, "we cannot advance! It is impossible!" "Impossible?" echoed the general, in amazement. "Why?" "For the very good reason that--_we've run out of oil!_" A loud groan burst from the army on hearing the dreadful news; the voice of the general himself shook as he replied: "Then, for once, we must ride." "You forget, sir," said the other, "that nowadays we have no horses. Shall we--march?" "No!" cried the intrepid leader. "March? Never! Death before dishonour! Men, your general may have to die a rather unpleasant death; but never, in this scientific age, never will he insult you by suggesting that you should walk!" and rapturous cheers from the army greeted this noble utterance. But just when hope was dying in every breast, and the only possible course seemed to be to wait patiently until the enemy attacked and destroyed them, a small motor-car with red-hot bearings whizzed through the crowd and stopped before the general. Need we mention that its driver was none other than Henry de Plantagenet? (He's my hero, of course, and he went out scouting on his own account--as heroes do--in the last chapter.) "Sir," he cried triumphantly, "I have news, great news!" "Well?" said the general. "Yes, it _is_ a well, a well of natural petroleum, in fact, which I have discovered not half-a-mile away!" The general clasped his hand, while the army roared themselves hoarse with delight. And, an hour later, only a faint flicker of dust on the horizon showed where the expedition was scurrying towards the doomed enemy. * * * * * [Illustration: THE PENALTY OF FAME _Small Boy_ (_with shrill voice_). "'Fightin'--with--the Sev'nth--Royal Fu-siliers-- The famous Fu-siliers-- The fightin' Fu-siliers,'" &c., &c. _Irritable War-Office Clerk._ "Con-found the Seventh Royal Fusiliers! I'm sick of 'em! Blest if I don't pack 'em off to the Channel Islands!" [_Does so._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A CASE OF TU QUOQUE.--_She._ "How do you like my new hat?" _Sutherland Highlander._ "By Jove, what extraordinary headgear you women do wear!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THAT TYRANT MAN. _Thomas the Drummer._ "Well, Emmar, you needn't take on so. I loves you stright enough; but 'angin' round the barrick gates, askin' for me, is the sort of thing I will not 'ave!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MORE REFORMS WANTED. _Guardsman._ "I just told one of those Volunteer officers that he must _not_ come on parade with his pockets unbuttoned, and the fellow had the demmed impudence to say he was sorry he couldn't oblige me, but his corps hadn't buttons!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Riding Master._ "I thought you said you could ride?" _Candidate for the Imperial Yeomanry._ "Ye-yes. But you don't get arf a chance 'ere, the corners are so bloomin' sharp!"] * * * * * THE MILITARY COOKERY-BOOK _How to make a Recruit._--Take a raw lad from the country (the younger the better) and fill his head with military froth. Add a shilling and as much beer as will be covered by the bounty-money. Let him simmer, and serve him up thick before a magistrate the next morning. Let him be sworn in, and he will then be nicely done. _How to make a Soldier._--Take your recruit, and thrust him roughly into a depôt. Mix him up well with recruits from other regiments until he has lost any _esprit de corps_ which may have been floating upon the surface when he enlisted. Now let him lie idle for a few years until his strength is exhausted, and then, at ten minutes' notice, pack him off to India. _Another Method._--Take your recruit, and place him at headquarters. Let him mix freely with all the bad characters that have been carefully kept in the regiment, until his nature has become assimilated to theirs. For three years pay him rather less than a ploughboy's wages, and make him work harder than a costermonger's donkey. Your soldier having now reached perfection, you will turn him out of the service with economical dressing. _How to make a Deserter._--A very simple and popular dish. Take a soldier, see that he is perfectly free from any mark by which he may be identified, and fill his head with grievances. Now add a little opportunity, and you have, or, rather, you have not, your deserter. _Another and Simpler Method._--Take a recruit, without inquiring into his antecedents. Give him his kit and bounty-money and close your eyes. The same recruit may be used for this dish (which will be found to be a fine military hash) any number of times. _How to make an Army._--Take a few scores of infantry regiments and carefully proceed to under-man them. Add some troopers without horses and some batteries without guns. Throw in a number of unattached generals, and serve up the whole with a plentiful supply of control mixture. _Another and easier Method._--Get a little ink, a pen, and a sheet of paper. Now dip your pen in the ink, and with it trace figures upon your sheet of paper. The accompaniment to this dish is usually hot water. _How to make a Panic._--Take one or two influential newspapers in the dead season of the year, and fill them with smartly written letters. Add a few pointed leading articles, and pull your army into pieces. Let the whole simmer until the opening of Parliament. This once popular mess is now found to be rather insipid, unless it is produced nicely garnished with plenty of Continental sauce, mixed with just an idea of invasion relish. With these zests, however, it is always found to be toothsome, although extremely expensive. * * * * * STRIKE OF SEAMEN.--There is one description of strike in which we hope our sailors will never engage--that of their colours. * * * * * A LAND SWELL.--A Lord of the Admiralty. * * * * * THE REVIEW AT SPITHEAD.--It is wonderful that this affair was not a sad mistake; for there is no doubt that the reviewers were all at sea. * * * * * [Illustration: SO SYMPATHETIC! _Young Yeomanry Officer_ (_airing his exploits in the war_). "And among other things, don't you know, I had a horse shot under me." _Fair Ignoramus._ "Poor thing! What was the matter with it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISAGREEABLE TRUTH _Soldier._ "Now, then! You must move away from here." _Rude Boy._ "Ah! But _you_ mustn't, old feller!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EUPHEMISTIC. _Colonel._ "I've never met with a smarter drill than yourself, sergeant, or one more thoroughly up to all his duties; but you've one most objectionable habit, and that is your constant use of bad language, and swearing at the men." _Sergeant._ "Sir, perhaps I am a little sarcashtic!"] * * * * * [Illustration: H.M.S. _OBESITY_; OR, WHAT OUR SAILORS ARE COMING TO _First A.B._ "Oh lor, Bill, my big toe!--f-f-f--it's something horful this morning." (_Distant whistle._) "Oh yus, that's right! Pipe away! I see hus a clearin' decks for haction, don't you, Bill?" _Second A.B._ "No fear! Phew-f-f-f. 'Ere, oh I say, mate, pass us the bicarbonick o' potass, for 'evin's sake!" ["The sailor is allowed 60 ounces of moist food per day, and this is of the wrong kind for a fighting man. This he eats at five different meals. He has about three times as much bread as he should have, and about half as much meat. It is a splendid diet to induce obesity, gout, and laziness."--_Dr. Yorke Davies in the "Daily Telegraph."_] ] * * * * * MRS. RAMSBOTHAM tells us her youngest nephew has just become a midshipman in the Royal Navy, and she has given him one of the best aromatic telescopes that could be bought for money. * * * * * THE BEST UPHOLDER OF THE UNION JACK.--The Union Jack Tar. * * * * * NAVAL PROMOTION.--"Chaplain: Rev. M. Longridge, B.A., to _Glory_."--_Daily Mail._ * * * * * FRESH MEAT FOR THE NAVY.--The chops of the Channel. * * * * * [Illustration: "We are unanimously of opinion that the British fleet should be put as soon as possible on a firmer and more stable basis!!!"] * * * * * AT THE SERVICE OF THE SERVICE (_A Forecast of the Future_) SCENE.--_A lecture-chamber at a military college._ Lecturer _discovered behind a table_. Students _taking notes_. _Lecturer._ I have now shown you a colonel and a major. I will disappear for a few seconds, and then appear as a captain. [_Dives under his table._ _First Student._ What's the lecture about? I got in too late for the beginning. _Second Student._ It's on "the Militia." _Lecturer_ (_emerging from his table in fresh regimentals._) Now, my men, you must regard me as your friend as well as your commander. I am responsible for your well-being. (_Applause, amidst which the_ Lecturer _resumes his ordinary clothing._) And now, gentlemen, it is unnecessary to give you a sketch of a subaltern, as that genus of the army officer must be known to all of you. And before I go I would be glad to answer any questions. _First Student._ Thank you, sir. May I ask why you have been giving this interesting entertainment? _Lecturer._ Certainly. To show you, gentlemen, your duty in the Militia. You will be expected to play many parts. _First Student._ But surely not simultaneously? _Lecturer._ Why, certainly. The old constitutional force is so undermanned in the commissioned ranks, that if the youngest subaltern of a battalion cannot do equally well for colonel, major and captain, the chances are that--well, I would be sorry to answer for the consequences. And now, gentlemen, we will consider how a ballot for soldiering can be established without seriously affecting the cherished rights of the civilian. [_Scene closes upon an unsuccessful attempt to solve the problem._ [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Captain Smythe_ (_a good soldier, but no society man, to his hostess_). "I have to thank you, Mrs. Brown, for an evening which has been--er--_after two years on the veld_, most enjoyable."] * * * * * [Illustration: "NONE O' YOUR LARKS" (1861) _Gigantic Navvy._ "Let's walk between yer, gents; folks 'll think you've took up a deserter."] * * * * * PREPARING FOR WAR A Memorandum containing a list of rules to be observed during the autumn manoeuvres has just been issued. By some strange mistake, the following regulations (which evidently must have appeared in the original document) have been omitted. They are now published for the first time:-- 1. Recruits of tender years will not be allowed to draw their bayonets. This rule does not apply to fine growing lads of twelve years old. 2. Buglers will not sound their bugles except by special command of Generals of Divisions. The above-mentioned officers are reminded (for their instruction and guidance) that copper is expensive and should be used as little as possible. 3. Boots will not be worn by the infantry on any march exceeding three miles. Commanding officers are cautioned that shoe-leather has recently greatly increased in value. 4. In the event of two members of the umpire staff being unable to come to an agreement about the respective colours of black and white, they will "draw lots;" _id est_, one of them will throw into the air a coin of the realm, and before the coin is able to reach the ground, the other will give the word either "heads" or "tails." The choice of cries will be optional. Gold coins will be used by general officers, silver by field officers, and halfpence by all other ranks. 5. Dismounted cavalry will not be allowed to pursue retiring infantry on horseback, unless so ordered by the Commanding Officers of the 83rd (County of Dublin), 85th (the King's County Down), the Connaught Rangers, and the Royal Irish Fusiliers. 6. Should a regiment of infantry halt within two hundred yards of six hostile batteries of artillery to watch the practice, or for any other purpose of instruction, one-tenth of the battalion will be marched to the rear, and will be considered _hors de combat_ during the remainder of the campaign. 7. A village containing one pioneer, one drummer (or bugler) and a quarter-master-sergeant, will be considered fully garrisoned. It will be seen that rules of war are to be followed in every particular, down to the very smallest details, by all concerned in the campaign. 8. As in the previous series of autumn manoeuvres, _at least_, "five minutes' notice" will be given when the army is required to march five miles, or to perform any other military duty requiring zeal, steadiness, and an intimate acquaintance with "Field Exercises, Edition of 1874, Part I." * * * * * SOLVED AT LAST.--_Jawkins._ Why do they always call sailors "tars"? _Pawkins._--Because they're so accustomed to the pitching of the ship. * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Bluejacket_ (_who has been hauled twice round the sick bay, yelling inarticulately, by the surgeon with the forceps_). "Why, you 'ad me by the tongue!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A VERBAL DIFFICULTY. _Irritable Captain._ "Your barrel's disgracefully dirty, sir, and it's not the first time; I've a good mind to----" _Private Flannigan._ "Shure, sor, I niver----" _Captain_ (_Irish too_). "Silence, sir, when you spake to an officer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ROYAL SALUTE.--_Officer in charge of battery_ (_in a fever lest the time of firing should be a second late_). "Why, what are you about, No. 6? Why don't you serve the sponge?" _Bombardier McGuttle._ "Hoots toots! Can na' a body blaw their nose?"] * * * * * [Illustration: TACTICS. _Instructor._ "Well, gentlemen, I have endeavoured to explain to you the theoretical principles governing the movements of the various portions of a combined force; but I must warn you, that, in practice on an ordinary field-day, you will probably find it result in hopeless confusion; while on active service it will be ten times worse!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONCLUSIVE! _Volunteer Colonel_ (_swell brewer_). "I'm afraid, Mr. Jenkins, you had been indulging in potations that were too strong for you!" [_Private J. was being "called over the coals" for insubordination at the inspection._] _Private Jenkins_ (_who is still wearing his bayonet on the wrong side_). "Oh, I couldn't have been drunk, sir, for I never had no more than one pint o' your ale all the blessed day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Register-keeper._ "Major Jones first to count. A miss--nothing." _Major Jones._ "I say, sergeant, that's almost an Irish bull, I fancy!" _Register-keeper._ "No, sorr, just a simple English miss!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR YEOMANRY. _Sergeant Major._ "Number three, where's your sword?" _Recruit_ (_who finds practice very different from theory_). "On the ground. Carn't see 'un?"] * * * * * MILITARY DIALOGUES I ARMY REFORM SCENE.--_The drawing-room of the Colonel's quarters, decorated with trophies from many lands and water-colour sketches. Mrs. Bulkwise, the Colonel's wife, a tall, broad and assertive lady, is giving tea to Mrs. Lyttleton-Cartwright, with the stamp of fashion upon her, and Mrs. Karmadine, who has a soul for art--both ladies of the regiment. Colonel Bulkwise, a small and despondent man whose hair is "part-worn" gazes morosely into the fire_. _Mrs. Bulkwise_ (_waving a tea cup_). As surely as woman is asserting her right to a place in medicine, in law, and in the council, so surely will she take her proper place in the control of the army. _Mrs. Lyttleton-Cartwright._ What a lovely costume one could compose out of the uniform. I've often tried Jack's tunic on. _Mrs. B._ (_severely_). The mere brutal work of fighting, the butchery of the trade, would still have to be left to the men; but such matters as require higher intelligence, keener wit, tact, perseverance, should be, and some day _shall_ be, in our hands. _Mrs. Karmadine._ And the beauty and grace of life, Mrs. Bulkwise. Surely we women, if allowed, could in peace bring culture to the barrack-room, and garland the sword with bay wreaths? _Mrs. B._ Take the War Office. I am told that the ranks of the regiments are depleted of combatant officers in order that they may sit in offices in Pall Mall, and do clerical work indifferently. Now, I hold that our sex could do this work better, more cheaply, and with greater dispatch. _Mrs. L.-C._ "Pall-Mall" would be such an excellent address. _Mrs. B._ The young men, both officers and civilians, who are employed waste, so I understand, the time of the public by going out to lunch at clubs and frequently pause in their work to smoke cigars and discuss the odds. Now a glass of milk, or some claret and lemonade, a slice of seed-cake, or some tartlets, brought by a maid from the nearest A. B. C. shop would satisfy all our mid-day wants. _Mrs. L.-C._ And I never knew a woman who couldn't work and talk bonnets at the same time. _Mrs. C._ Just a few palms--don't you think, Mrs. Bulkwise?--in those dreary, _dreary_ rooms, and some oriental rugs on the floors, and a little bunch of flowers on each desk would make life so much easier to live. [_Colonel Bulkwise murmurs something unintelligible_. _Mrs. B._ What do you say, George? _Colonel B. (with sudden fierceness)._ I said, that there are too many old women, as it is, in the War Office. _Mrs. B._ George! [_The colonel relapses again into morose silence._ _Mrs. B._ The Intelligence Department should, of course, be in our hands. _Mrs. L.-C._ I should just love to run about all the time, finding out other people's secrets. _Mrs. B._ And the Clothing Department calls for a woman's knowledge. The hideous snuff-coloured garments must be retained for warfare, but with the new costume for walking out and ceremonial I think something might be done. _Mrs. L.-C._ The woman who makes my frocks is as clever as she can be, and always has her head full of ideas for those sort of things. _Mrs. C._ Michel Angelo did not disdain to design the uniform of the Swiss Guard. Perhaps Gilbert, or Ford, or Brock might follow in the giant's footsteps. _Col. B._ You ladies always design such sensible clothes for yourselves, do you not? [_He is frozen into silence again._ _Mrs. B._ And the education of young officers. From a cursory glance through my husband's books on law, topography and administration, I should say that there are no military subjects that the average woman could not master in a fortnight. Strategy, of course, comes to us by intuition. The companionship and influence of really good women on youths and young men cannot be over-rated, and the professors both at the Staff College and at the Military Academy should be of our sex. _Mrs. L.-C._ I always love the boys; but I think some of the staff college men are awfully stuck up. _Mrs. B._ Now as to the regiment. The mess, of course, should be in our province. _Mrs. L.-C._ How ripping. The guest-nights would be lovely dinner parties, the ante-room we'd use for tea, and the band should always play from 5 to 6. We'd have afternoon dances every Thursday, and turn the men out once a week and have a dinner all to ourselves to talk scandal. [_The colonel groans._ * * * * * [Illustration: "REGIMENTAL ORDERS"! _Volunteer Captain._ "Ah, Sergeant Jones--didn't I send you an order to be at headquarters on Monday, at nine o'clock, with a corporal and six men for duty?" _Sergeant._ "Yes, sir. But I think if there was a little more 'request', and a little less 'order', it would be (_a-hem_)--better!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "BOBS" An Indian idol--as worshipped by Mr. Thomas Atkins. (_The property of the British nation._)] * * * * * [Illustration: "BOBS" AS A BOBBIE ["CORONATION CLAIMS.--There being no succession to certain offices, the appointment thereto rests with His Majesty, and the following are regarded as probable candidates:--Lord High Constable--The Earl Roberts," &c.--_Vide Daily Mail_, Nov. 19, 1901.] ] * * * * * [Illustration: SORROWS OF A SUBALTERN "Curious way that boy has of salutin'. Don't believe it's correct!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE DOG!--_(A romance of real life.)_ _The Gallant Major._ "I beg a thousand pardons for the apparent liberty I take as an entire stranger, but may I make so bold as to ask you, is not this one of that wonderful breed of black or Chinese pugs?" _The Pretty Lady (most condescendingly)._ "Yes, you are perfectly right, and if I am not mistaken, you are Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth Hussars." [_From that moment they became fast friends, and within the next three months there appeared in the "Morning Post," 'A marriage has been arranged between Major McBride, of the Ninety-ninth Hussars, and Mrs. Bellairs,' &c., &c._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: "ONE OF OUR CONQUERORS." _Imperial Yeoman._ "Much obliged if you would pick up my sword for me."] * * * * * [Illustration: TOMMY'S SUNDAY AFTERNOON AS IT WILL BE ["It has been decreed in several line battalions that in future no soldier will be allowed to walk arm-in-arm in the street with a female."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: "Oh! I say! 'E 'as got eyes after all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Doctor._ "Don't feel well, eh? Appetite all right?" _Tommie._ "Eat like a wolf, sir." _Doctor._ "Sleep well?" _Tommie._ "As sound as a dog, sir." _Doctor._ "Oh, you'd better see the vet.!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE JOKE THAT FAILED _Lubber._ "I say, Jack, do you know why they've painted the ships grey in time of _peace_?" _Jack._ "I s'pose 'cos it's a _neutral_ tint!" [_But the other didn't laugh. He intended making that witticism himself._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE ON BOARD H.M.S.---- "I say, why am I like the Queen's chief cook? Do you give it up?" "Yes." "Because I am in a high cool-and-airy (_culinary_) position." [_Astonished cadet nearly falls from the yard_. You young monkey, how dare you joke up in the air like that? However, we look over it this time.--_Punch_] * * * * * [Illustration: An economical mode of putting troops into white trowsers.] * * * * * REGULATIONS FOR YEOMANRY OUTPOSTS (_Aldershot Edition_) 1. Never recognise your enemy when you meet him on the road, in case you might be compelled to take him prisoner and so cause unpleasantness and unseemly disturbance. 2. Advanced guards should walk quietly and without ostentation into the enemy's main body, and be careful never to look behind bushes, trees, or buildings for an unobtrusive cyclist patrol. To do so might cause the enemy annoyance. 3. An advance guard, if surrounded, will surrender without noise or alarm. To make any would disturb the main body, who like to march in a compact and regular formation. 4. Never allow your common-sense to overcome your natural modesty so far as to induce you to report to a superior officer the presence of the enemy in force. You will only acquire a reputation for officiousness by doing so. 5. Always attack an enemy in front. It is unsportsmanlike and unprofessional to attack the flanks. 6. When retiring before an attack maintain as close a formation as the ground will admit of, and retire directly upon the main infantry support. You will thus expose yourselves to the fire of both your own friends and the enemy, and as blank cartridge hurts nobody it will add to the excitement of the operation. 7. It is more important to roll your cloaks and burnish your bits than to worry about unimportant details of minor tactics. 8. Since a solitary horseman never attracts the enemy's attention, be careful to take up a position in compact formation; to do so by files might escape observation. 9. When being charged by the enemy, go fours about and gallop for all you are worth; it is just as agreeable to be prodded in the back as in the chest, and gives the enemy more satisfaction. To extend, or work to the flanks, might deprive your enemy of useful experience. 10. Never cast your eyes to the direction from which the enemy is not expected, as that is the usual direction of his real attack, and it is not polite to spoil the arrangement of your friend the enemy. 11. Lastly, remember that the best motto for Yeomanry Troopers is "Point de Zèle." * * * * * OUR RIFLE VOLUNTEERS _A Peace Song_ (1859) (_Composed and volunteered by Mr. Punch_) Some talk of an invasion As a thing whereat to sneeze, And say we have no occasion To guard our shores and seas: Now, _Punch_ is no alarmist, Nor is moved by idle fears, But he sees no harm that we all should arm As Rifle Volunteers! Let sudden foes assail us, 'Tis well we be prepared; Our Fleet--who knows?--may fail us, Nor serve our shores to guard. For self-defence, then, purely, Good reason there appears, To have, on land, a force at hand Of Rifle Volunteers! To show no wish for fighting, Our forces we'd increase; But 'tis our foes by frighting We best may keep at peace, For who will dare molest us When, to buzz about their ears, All along our coast there swarms a host Of Rifle Volunteers! Abroad ill winds are blowing, Abroad war's vermin swarm; What _may_ hap there's no knowing, We may not 'scape the storm. Athirst for blood, the Eagles May draw our dove's nest near; But we'll scare away all birds of prey With our Rifle Volunteers! No menace we're intending, Offence to none we mean, We arm but for defending Our country and our Queen! To British hearts 'tis loyalty 'Tis love her name endears: Up! then, and form! shield her from harm Ye Rifle Volunteers! * * * * * [Illustration: The above is _not_ a war picture. It merely represents an incident in the too realistic scouting manoeuvres of the Blankshire Yeomanry. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Timmins thought at least the country had been invaded.] * * * * * [Illustration: _De Voeux._ "My grandfather, you know, lived till he was ninety-eight." _Trevor Carthew._ "Well, my grandmother died at the age of ninety-seven." _Brown._ "In _my_ family there are several who are not dead yet!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DIGNITY IN DISTRESS. _Small Boys_ (_to Volunteer Major in temporary command_). "I say, guv'nor--hi! Just wipe the blood off that 'ere sword!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FORE AND---- _Sergeant._ "Back a little, number five!"] [Illustration:----AFT! _Sergeant._ "Up a little, number five!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR RESERVES! _Aide-de-Camp (at the review)._ "What are you doing here, sir? Where's your regiment?" _Party on the Grass._ "Shure I don' know. Bu-r I don't rec'nise your 'thority, gov'nour!" _Aide-de-Camp (furious)._ "What the deuce d'you mean, sir? You're a Volunteer, aren't you?" _Party on the Grass._ "_(Hic!)_ Norabirofit!--Was jus' now--bu-r I've reshigned 'n cons'quence--temp'ry indishposition!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SUMMING UP." _Captain._ "What's the charge, sergeant?" _Sergeant._ "This time it's drunkenness, sir. But this man is the most troublesome fellow in the regiment, sir. He goes out when he likes, and comes in when he likes, and gets drunk when he likes--in fact, he might be a horficer!!"] * * * * * CHAT À LA MODE. _Brown, Jones, and Robinson, discovered discussing the stats of the Navy in a first-class compartment._ _Brown._ My dear fellows, I can assure you we are in a terrible condition of unpreparedness. If France was to declare war to-morrow we should be nowhere--absolutely nowhere! _Jones._ You mean, of course, with Russia. _Robinson._ Or was it Italy? _Brown._ It doesn't matter which. I fancy that France alone could tackle us. Why, a man was telling me the other day that if Gibraltar was seized--as it might be--we should not get a ship-load of wood for months--yes, for months! _Jones._ But what has Gibraltar to do with it? _Robinson._ Why, of course, it guards our approaches to the Suez Canal. _Brown._ Oh, that's only a matter of detail. But what we want is a hundred millions to be spent at once. Cobden said so, and I agree with Cobden. _Jones._ But upon what? _Robinson._ Oh, in supporting the Sultan, and subsidising the Ameer. _Brown._ I don't think that sort of thing is of much importance. But if we had a hundred millions (as Mr. Cobden suggested), we might increase our coaling stations, and build new ships, and double the navy, and do all sorts of things. _Jones._ But I thought we were fairly well off for coaling stations, had lots of ships on the stocks, and, with the assistance of our merchant marine, an ample supply of good sailors. _Robinson._ That's what all you fellows say! But wait till we have a war, then you will see the fallacy of all your arguments. No, we should buy the entire fleet of the world. There should be no other competitor. Britannia should _really_ rule the waves. _Brown._ Yes, yes. Of course; but after all, that is not the important matter. What we want is a hundred millions available to be spent on anything and everything. And it's no use having further discussion because that was Cobden's view of it, and so it is mine. _Jones._ Where is it to come from--out of the rates? _Brown and Robinson_ (_together_). Certainly not. _Jones._ Or the taxes? _Brown and Robinson_ (_as before_). Don't be absurd. _Jones._ Well, it must come from somewhere! Can you tell me where? _Robinson._ Why should we? _Brown._ Yes, why should we? Even Cobden didn't go so far as that, and----But, here we are at the station. [_Invasion of porters, and end of the conversation._ * * * * * [Illustration: EASTER MANOEUVRES. _Extract from Private Letter.--April 1._ "I'm afraid Milly and I have put our respective feet in it this time. We thought we would test our capacities at hospital work, and attach ourselves to pa's regiment--of course, without telling pa--and were getting along quite nicely with a soldier who wasn't very well, when we met pa and the General and his regiment. They took away the patient, and judging from pa's looks, there's a warm time coming."] * * * * * [Illustration: SUGGESTED HELMET FOR ARMY MOTORISTS The new helmet as ordinarily | The same, as worn on worn. | motor duty. _Directions:_--Simply unhook the lower portion of the helmet; thereby extending the collapsible weather-and dust-proof mask. Admirable also as a disguise.] * * * * * [Illustration: FLAG WAGGING _Sergeant of Signallers._ "What ai's Murphy to-day? He don't seem able to take in a thing!" _Private Mulvaney._ "Shall I signal to 'im, 'Will ye 'ave a drink?'?" * * * * * [Illustration: TU QUOQUE. _Army Candidate._ "And I only muffed one thing in the geography paper. Couldn't for the life of me think where the Straits of Macassar were!" _Fond Father._ "Oh, I say, you ought to have known that. Fancy--the Straits of Macassar!" _Army Candidate._ "Well, I didn't, anyhow. By the way, where are they, dad?" _Fond Father._ "Oh--where are they? Oh--er--they're--well, they're---- but don't you think we'd better go to lunch?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A HORSE-MARINE _Club Wag._ "Well, good-night, Admiral." _Warrior._ "There's a stupid joke. Admiral! Can't you see my spurs?" _Wag._ "Oh, I thought they were your twin screws."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sentry_ (_on the simultaneous approach of two persons_). "Who goes there?--two ways at once!"] * * * * * MILITARY DIALOGUES II ARMY REFORM SCENE.--_The canteen of the Rutlandshire Regiment, at Downboro', an airy, plastered hall with high windows. A bar at one end is backed by a rampart of beer barrels. A double line of barrack tables and benches runs down the room. The hour is 5 p.m. At one of the tables sits Mr. W. Wilson, late Private in the regiment, in all his glory of a new check suit with an aggressive pattern, a crimson tie, a horseshoe pin, an aluminium watch-chain, a grey "bowler" and a buttonhole of violets. Privates W. and G. Smith, P. Brady, E. Dudd and other men of H. company are at the table, or standing near it._ _Mr. Wilson (passing round a great tin measure containing beer, after taking a preliminary pull himself)._ Of course I do 'ear more, being in the smoke, than you 'ear down in this provincial 'ole; and there's generals and statesmen and such-like comes and stays at our place, and when they gets tied up in a knot over any military question, as often as not they says, "Let's ask Wilson, the under-gardener. 'E's a hex-military man; 'e's a 'ighly intellergent feller"; and I generally gets them out of their difficulty. _Pte. W. Smith._ D'ye know anything about this army reform? _Mr. Wilson (with lofty scorn)._ Do I know anything about it? _Pte. G. Smith._ D'ye think they're going to make a good job of it? _Mr. Wilson._ Naaw. And why? Becos they're goin' the wrong wai to work. They're arskin the opinion of perfeshernal hexperts and other sich ignoramuses, and ain't goin' to the fountain 'ead. Oo's the backbone of the English service? _Pte. P. Brady._ The Oirish private. _Mr. Wilson._ Right you are, my 'Ibernian--always subsitooting British for Hirish--and the British compiny is the finest horganisation in the world. Give the private a free 'and and a rise of pay, and make the compiny the model of the army, and then yer can put all the hexperts and all the Ryle Commissions and their reports to bed. _Pte. Dudd._ As how? _Mr. Wilson._ As 'ow, yer old thick head? It's as plain as a pike-staff. Taike this question of responsibility. When some one comes a bloomer, and the paipers all rise 'ell, the civilian toff, 'oos a sort of a commander-in-chief in a Sunday coat and a chimney-pot 'at, 'e says, "It ain't me. Arsk the real commander-in-chief," and the feeld-marshal 'e says, "Arsk the hadjutant-general," and the hadjutant-general, 'e says, "Arsk the hordnance bloke." Now in the compiny there ain't none of that. If the colonel goin' round at kit inspection finds the beds badly made up, or jags and sight-protectors deficient, or 'oles in the men's socks, 'e goes fierce for the captin' and threatens to stop 'is leave; and the captin' don't say, "Oh, it's the hadjutant, or the quarter-master, or the chaplain what's to blame," no, 'e gives the subalterns and the coloured-sergeant beans, and they slip it in to the sergeants and corprils in charge of squads, and the beds is set up straight, and the men put down for jags and sight-protectors, and the 'oles in the socks is mended. _Pte. W. Smith._ That's so, old pal. What else would you recermend? _Mr. Wilson_ (_reaching out for the measure)._ Thank yer. This 'ere army-reforming's a dry job. Now as to the metherd of attack. When the regiment goes out field-firing the henemy's a line of hearthenware pots, touched up on the sly by the markers with a dash of white; the captains count the telergraph posts up the range and give the exact distance; and the men goes 'opping along in line like crows on a ploughed field, the sergeantes a-naggin' 'em about the 'Ithe position and the coprils calling them back to pick up empty cartridge cases. Is that the wai, that you, George Smith, and you, Bill, and you, Pat, used ter creep up to the rabbit warrens when we used ter go out in the herly morning to assist the farmers to keep down the ground gime--poaching the colonel called it? No, we hexecuted wide turning movements and never showed no more than the tip of a nose. Let drill of attack alone, I say, and develop the sporting hinstinct of the private. _Omnes._ 'Ear, 'ear. _Mr. Wilson._ And this matter of mobility. Why, if you or me or any of us was on furlough at 'Ampstead or Margit, we was never off a 'orse's or a moke's back as long as the dibs lasted. Give us the brass, and we'll find the mobility. _Pte. W. Smith._ Why don't yer write to the Prime Minister, and give him your ideas? _Mr. Wilson._ I shall. A few hintelligent ex-privates in the Cabinet, a rise of pay for privates and two days' rabitting, and a trip to Margit every week would sive the British Army. * * * * * TRAMPS ["In spite of the demand for recruits, the number of tramps remain, undiminished."--_Daily Paper._] Why does not patriotic fire My all too torpid heart inspire With irresistible desire To seek the tented camp, sir, Where Glory, with her bronze V.C., Waits for the brave, perhaps for me? Because I much prefer to be A lazy, idle tramp, sir. I toil not, neither do I spin. For me, the laggard days begin Hours after all my kith and kin Are weary with their labours; The heat and burden of the day They bear, poor fools, as best they may, While I serenely smoke my clay And pity my poor neighbours. When Afric burns the trooper brown, By leafy lanes I loiter down Through Haslemere to Dorking town, Each Surrey nook exploring; Or 'neath a Berkshire hay-rick I At listless length do love to lie, And watch the river stealing by Between the hills of Goring. Why should I change these dear delights For toilsome days and sleepless nights, And red Bellona's bloody rites That bear the devil's stamp, sir? Let others hear the people cry "A hero he!"--I care not, I, So I may only live and die, A lazy, idle tramp, sir. * * * * * [Illustration: AT A COUNTRY HOUSE. "Well, my dear Admiral, and how did you sleep?" "Not at all, General. Confounded butterfly flew in at the window, and was flopping around all night--couldn't get a wink of sleep." "Ah, dashed dangerous things, butterflies!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "PRIVATES, BUT NOT FULL" (1875) _First Driver (after a long day)._ "The 'orse 'rtillery's a-getting quite aristercratic. It don't dine till eight o'clock!!" _Second Driver._ "Stroikes me to-morrow the 'orse 'rtillery'll be too aristercratic to dine at all!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ENEMY. _Horrid Boy to newly-appointed Volunteer Major, (who finds the military seat very awkward_). "Sit further back, General! You'll make his 'ead ache!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AUTUMN MANOEUVRES. No, this is not heroism; this is simply discretion. Little Plumpleigh has just given "Charge!" and taken one look behind to see if his men are "backing him up, don't you know," and he is now making for safety!] * * * * * [Illustration: _War-office Genius._ "Now _this_ is another of my brilliant ideas, the shelter trench exercise. Of course, I _know_ the trench is the wrong way about, and that, when they have finished it, they have to fire into the wood they are defending, and then turn about and charge away from the wood, but, THEN! _we_ get a capital bank and ditch made round our plantations, with practically _no_ expense!" _Mr. Punch._ "And this is what you call instructing the Volunteers?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Bluejacket._ "Well, matey, wot 'appened?" _Second Bluejacket._ "Lieutenant, '_e_ reports as 'ow I were dirty, an' my 'ammick weren't clean, an' captin, '_e_ ses, 'Wash 'is bloomin' neck, scrub 'is bloomin' face, an' cut 'is bloomin' 'air, every ten minnits!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Volunteer Captain (acting Major first time)._ "Now then! What are you boys staring at? Did you never see a war-horse before?" _Boys (who had followed expecting a "spill.")_ "Aye--we've whiles seen a waur horse, but never a waur rider!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AD VALOREM. _(Energetic Sub has been pursuing runaway mule)._ "Well done, old chap! You deserve the D.S.O. at least. What is it? Ammunition?" "Ammunition! D.S.O.!! V.C., you mean!!!! Why, it's bottled beer!!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MONEY "TIGHT." _British Subaltern._ "By-the-by, Smith, can you lend me that sovereign I gave you this morning for a Christmas-box?!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR RESERVES. _Captain of Rural Corps (calling over the roll)._ "George Hodge!" _(No answer.)_ "George Hodge!--Where on earth's George Hodge?" _Voice from the ranks._ "Please, sir, he's turned dissenter, and says fighting's wicked."] * * * * * THE BUSY BISLEY SCENE--_Within measurable distance of Woking. Enter lounger and marksman R. and L._ _Lounger (heartily)._ Why, I _am_ glad to see you! And how are things going on? _Marksman (cordially, but abruptly)._ Capitally! Good-bye! _Loung._ But I say, what a hurry you are in! Can't you stop a minute for a chat? _Marks._ Another time, but just now moments are precious. _Loung._ But I say, you see I have found myself here--it doesn't take much longer than getting down to Wimbledon. _Marks._ Of course it doesn't--whoever said it did? But there, old chap, I _must_ be off! _Loung._ You are in a hurry! Ah, we used to have pleasant days in the old place? _Marks._ Did we? I daresay we did. _Loung._ Why, of course! Grand old days! Don't you remember what fun it used to be decorating your tent; and then, when the ladies came down--which they did nearly all the day long--what larks it was getting them tea and claret-cup? _Marks._ Very likely. But we don't have many ladies now, and a good job, too--they _are_ a bore. _Loung._ Well, you _are_ a chap! Why, how can there be any fun without your sisters, and your cousins, and your maiden aunts? _Marks._ We don't want fun. But there, good-bye! _Loung._ But I say, I have come all this way to look you up. _Marks. (unbending)._ Very kind of you, my dear fellow, you have chosen rather an unfortunate time. _Loung._ Why, at Wimbledon you had nothing to do! _Marks._ Very likely. But then Bisley isn't Wimbledon. _Loung. (dryly)._ So it seems. Everyone said that when they moved the camp further away from home, they would ruin the meeting. _Marks._ Then everyone was wrong. Why, we are going on swimmingly. _Loung._ It must be beastly dull. _Marks._ Not at all. Lovely country, good range, and, after it rains, two minutes later it is dry as bone. _Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as Wimbledon. _Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the history of the Association we never had more entries than this year. _Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer town. _Marks. (laughing)._ Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off. Ta! ta! See you later. [_Exit._ Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there doesn't seem much for _me_ to do down here, I shall return to town. [_Does so. Curtain._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube)._ "Is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?" _Voice from Engine-room._ "Not at this end, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VOLO EPISCOPARI. _Festive Middy._ "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being Bishop here!" _His Lordship._ "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?" _Festive Middy._ "Oh, I've just been taking a walk through the city,--and I _say_!--there _is_ an uncommonly good-looking lot o' girls about, and _no_ mistake!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A NASTY ONE. _Colonel Smithson (of the Poonah Marines)._ "By the way, my boy at Sandhurst hopes to get into your regiment some day." _Little Simpson (of the Royal Hussars Green)._ "Aw--I--aw hope your son is up to _our form!_" _Colonel Smithson._ "_Your form!_ Dash it, he's over four feet high, anyhow!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CAUTION. _Old Gent (with difficulty)._ "Now really--Oh! this dis--graceful crowding--I'm--I'm positive my gun will go off!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CHEEK. _(The regiment is about to "march out" with twenty rounds of "blank cartridge.")_ _Sub-Lieutenant (of twenty-four hours' service)._ "Whereabouts is this pyrotechnic display of yours coming off, Colonel!!?"] * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD AT PORTSMOUTH. _Jack._ "Well, Polly lass, if it's true as 'ow you're going to get spliced to Bill, all I 'opes is that he'll stick to you through thick and thin!" _Polly._ "Well, 'e _ought_ to, Jack. 'E works in a glue factory."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Awful bore, dear old chap. War offith won't have me, thimply becauth my eyethight ith tho doothed bad!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ARMS OF PRECISION _Volunteer Subaltern (as the enemy's scout continues to advance in spite of expenditure of much "blank" ammunition)._ "If that infernal yeoman comes any nearer, shy stones at him, some of you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A FORLORN HOPE _Captain O'Dowd (of the firm of O'Dowd and Jones, stock-jobbers)._ "What'll I do now? It's beyond me jumpin' powers, an' if I wade I'll be wet to the waist." _(To Private Halloran, who in civil life is a stockbroker's clerk)._ "Here, Halloran, I want a carry over. You do it for me, an' I'll not forget it to you, me lad." _Private Halloran._ "Sorry I can't, Captain. You know carryin'-over day is not till the sixteenth, an' this is only the seventh!"] * * * * * A LAY OF THE UNION JACK (_By a patriotic Cockney_) Though I feel less at home on the bounding wave Than I do on the firm dry land, I can spin you a yarn of a right good craft That is true-British owned and manned. The winds may blow, and the storms may beat, And the hurricanes rage and roar, But "the ship I love" on her course will hold With the Union Jack at the fore. Fair weather or foul, she ploughs along, Leaving far astern the strand, And many a towering sister bark We pass on the starboard hand, And, Westward ho! as we bear away! I can count stout ships galore, Abeam, in our wake, and ahead, that fly The Union Jack at the fore. And the sight of the flag that has swept the seas, Nor ever has known disgrace, Makes even a landlubber's bosom swell With the pride of his English race. At that gallant sight in my landsman's heart I rejoice--and rejoice still more That I'm only aboard of a road-car 'bus, With the Union Jack at the fore! * * * * * [Illustration: "USED TO IT!"--_Officer at firing-point (who thinks that it's raining)._ "Sergeant Mauchline, hadn't you better wear your greatcoat till it's your turn to fire?" _Sergeant Mauchline (frae the "Land of Lorne")._ "Hoo! Nothe noo! I'll pit it on when it comes wat!"] * * * * * DO'S AND DONT'S FOR VOLUNTEERS 1. DON'T go to camp. But if you do, 2. Don't get up when revally sounds. You'll find adjutant's parade in the early morning, the very early morning, such a beastly bore, and so bad for the liver that it is far wiser to stay in the "palliasse"--(besides, hasn't your doctor often told you that it is madness to suppose you can play such tricks at your time of life?)--they can only give you a few years' imprisonment for repeated mutinous conduct, and you could doubtless petition the Home Secretary for an aggravation of your sentence. 3. Don't submit to harsh or cursory remarks from the adjutant. Do answer him back. You know quite well that in private life you would not put up with his hasty, ill-considered and offensive language, nor permit him to hector you because your collar was not clean, and if you _have_ come on parade without cleaning your belt or rifle, what right has he to say that it makes him furious? Do point out to him how absurd it is to expect such minute attention to discipline on the part of so intelligent a volunteer as yourself. 4. Don't overtax your strength or weaken your heart by "doubling" up impossible hills, merely because the colonel (on a horse) thinks it looks pretty. Of course you would be perfectly ready to do anything that was necessary, but how can the empire's safety depend upon your losing your wind, when the enemy are some of your oldest friends, with a handkerchief tied round their sleeves? 5. Do insist upon having hot water to shave with, and an extra blanket when the nights get chilly. Very probably the captain of your company would turn out of his bed and take your palliasse if you asked him nicely. 6. Don't do any menial or degrading work, such as cleaning cooking utensils or greasing your own boots. The Government ought to know that gentlemen can't be expected to do that kind of work, and should provide an efficient staff of servants. 7. Don't do anything you would rather not. 8. Do set all military discipline at defiance. You probably know much better than your officers. 9. Don't blame me if you find yourself in prison. 10. Do make a stern resolution never to come to camp again. 11. Don't keep it. * * * * * BUTS AT BISLEY _(Compiled by an evil-minded enthusiast)_ The shooting could not be more satisfactory _but_ for the customary "accident." Everyone would make a "bull" _but_ for the haze and the shiftiness of the wind. The catering is in every way excellent, _but_ heavy meals scarcely assist in getting on the target. It is delightful to entertain visitors--especially ladies--at the camp, _but_ champagne-cup and provisions generally run into money. It is healthy to sleep under canvas, _but_ when the thermometer marks ninety in the shade or the rain pours down in torrents a bed in an inn is preferable. Bisley is a beautiful place, _but_ Woking cemetery is a dismal neighbour. Distinctly it is nobly patriotic to spend a fortnight with the N. R. A., in the cause of the fatherland, _but_ is it quite worth the trouble? * * * * * [Illustration: _Swagger Yeomanry Officer._ "Bring out my charger." _Job-master's Foreman._ "Very sorry, sir, but e's just gorn to a funeral!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HE ALWAYS WONDERED HIMSELF. (Scene--_General Inspection of Volunteer Battalion. Lieut. Tompkins--excellent fellow, but poor soldier--called out to show the General and British public what he knows._) _General._ "Now, sir, you now have the battalion in quarter column facing south. How would you get into line, in the quickest possible way, facing north-east?" _Tompkins (after much fruitless consideration)._ "Well, sir, do you know, that's always what I've wondered." [_Report on subaltern officers--bad._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _First Miserable Sub (left at the depot)._ "I can't think, for the life of me, what excuse for two days' leave I'm to give the C. O. I've already weighed in with every one I can think of." _Second M. S._ "Easy enough, old chap. Kill your grandmother." _First M. S._ "Can't, dear boy. I'm keeping her for the Derby!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE WAY WE HAD IN THE ARMY." (1877). _Colonel (of the pre-examination period--to studious sub)._ "I say, youngster, you'll never make a soldier if you don't mind what you're about!" _Sub (mildly)._ "I should be sorry to think that, sir!" _Colonel._ "I saw you sneaking up the High Street yesterday, looking like a Methodist parson in reduced circumstances!--Hold up your head, sir! Buy a stick, sir! Slap your leg, sir! And stare at the girls at the windows!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "The 'orrid mess master made my kitching in, and hisself too, a-cleaning that there dratted rifle, after he'd been a booviackin' in the park!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A DILEMMA. _Auxiliary Recruit (to himself)._ "Murder! Murder! What'll I do now? 'Drill-sarjint tould me always to salute me officer with the far-off hand, and here's two iv 'em! Faix, I'll make it straight for meself anyhow!" [_Throws up both hands._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: "OFF!" _Sergeant O'Leary._ "Double! Left! Right! What the blazes, Pat Rooney, d'ye mane by not doublin' wid the squad?" _Pat._ "Shure, sergeant, 'twasn't a fair start"!] * * * * * [Illustration: "LUCUS A NON," &c. _(Aiming drill.)_ _Musketry Instructor._ "Now, then! How do you 'xpect to see the hobject haimed at, if you don't keep your heye closed?"] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR MANOEUVRES. _Captain of Skirmishers (rushing in to seize picket sentries of the enemy)._ "Hullo! He-ar! You surrender to this company!" _Opposition Lance-Corporal._ "Beg pardon, sir! It's the other way, sir. We're a brigade, sir!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MILITARY ARDOUR. _Sentry (with mixed ideas of manual and platoon)._ "Gar'd t'n out!" _Commandant._ "Bless you, sir, what are you about?" _Sentry._ "Shure, I'm waitin' for the worr'd foire!" [Extract from Field Exercise or Red Book, pocket edition, page 356:--_Sentries paying compliments:_ "To field officers he will _present_ arms." ] * * * * * [Illustration: VOLUNTEER TACTICS AT OUR AUTUMN MANOEUVRES. _Captain Wilkinson (excitedly, to Major Walker, of the firm of Wilkinson, Walker, & Co., Auctioneers and Estate Agents)._ "Don't you think we'd better bring our right wing round to attack the enemy's flank, so as to prevent their occupying those empty houses we have to let in Barker's Lane?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A POSER. _Sergeant-Major._ "Now, Private Smith, you know very well none but officers and non-commissioned officers are allowed to walk across this grass!" _Private Smith._ "But, sergeant-major, I've Captain Graham's verbal orders to----" _Sergeant-Major._ "None o' that, sir! Show me the captain's verbal orders! Show'm to me, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "FOLLOW MY LEADER!" Captain Barble (East Suffolkshire R. V.) going to drill, has occasion to pass a certain window for reasons best known to himself. A vague idea possesses him that something is wrong somehow, or what should create such amusement on this occasion!] * * * * * MILITARY DIALOGUES III HOW IT SHOULD NOT BE DONE _Interior of a dreary room in the War Office. A tired-looking young officer, in mufti, sits at a table with great piles of papers, each bundle tied with red tape and ticketed with labels of different colours, on one side of it ready to his hand. Another pile of papers, which he has already dealt with, is on the other side of the table. He is an official and has many letters, the first two being D. A. after his name. The gas has just been lighted. A clerk brings in another fat bundle of papers._ _The Officer (patting the smaller pile on the table)._ These can go on, Smithers. That question of sardine-openers must go back to the commissariat, and the General commanding the Central District must be authorised to deal on his own responsibility with the matter of the fierce bull in the field where the recruits bathe. What have you got there? _The Clerk._ It is the correspondence, sir, relative to that false tooth requisitioned for by the officer commanding the Rutlandshire Regiment for the first cornet of the band. The Medical Department sent it back to us this morning, and there is another letter in from the Colonel, protesting against his regiment being forced to go route marching to an imperfect musical accompaniment. _The Officer (groaning)._ I thought we had got rid of that matter at last by sending it to the doctors. _The Clerk._ No, sir. The Surgeon-General has decided that "one tooth, false, with gold attachment," cannot be considered a medical comfort. _The Officer (taking a précis from the top of the papers)._ I suppose we must go into the matter again. It began with the letter from the Colonel to the General? _The Clerk._ Yes, sir, here it is. The O. C. the Rutland Regiment has the honour to report that the first cornet player in the band has lost a tooth, and as the band has become inefficient in the playing of marching music in consequence, he requests that a false tooth may be supplied at Government expense. _The Officer._ And the General, of course, replied in the usual formula that he had no fund available for such purpose. _The Clerk._ Yes, sir; but suggested that the regimental band fund might be drawn on. _The Officer._ Where is the Colonel's letter in reply. (It is handed to him.) Ah, yes. Band fund is established, he writes, for purchase of musical instruments and music, and not for repair of incomplete bandsmen, and refuses to authorise expense, except under order from the Commander-in-Chief. _The Clerk._ The General sends this on to us with a remark as to the Colonel's temper. _The Officer._ And we pass it to the Quarter-Master-General's people, suggesting that under certain circumstances a false tooth might be considered a "necessary," and a free issue made. _The Clerk._ A very long memo, on the subject, in reply, from the Q.-M.-G., sir. He points out that though, under exceptional circumstances, a pair of spectacles might be held to be a sight-protector, a false tooth could not be held to be either a fork, a spoon, a shaving-brush, a razor, or even an oil bottle. _The Officer._ We wrote back suggesting that it might pass as a "jag"--our little joke. _The Clerk._ _Your_ little joke, sir. The Q.-M.-G.'s people didn't see it. _The Officer._ No? Then the correspondence goes on to the Ordnance Department, with a suggestion that a false tooth might be considered an arm or an accoutrement. _The Clerk._ The Director-General replies, sir, that in the early days of the British Army, when the Army Clothing Department's sole issue was a supply of woad, a tooth, or indeed a nail, might have reasonably been indented for as a weapon, but that, owing to the introduction and perfection of fire-arms, such weapons are now obsolete and cannot be issued. _The Officer._ And now the Medical Service refuse to help us. _The Clerk._ Yes, sir. They cannot bring the fixing of it under the head of surgical operations, and the Surgeon-General points out very justly, if I may be permitted to say so, sir, that a seal-pattern false tooth could hardly be considered a "medical comfort." _The Officer._ What are we to do? The Colonel of the regiment is evidently furious. _The Clerk._ We might send the correspondence to the Inspector of Iron Structures. He may be able to do or suggest something. _The Officer._ Very well; and will you send off this telegram to my wife saying I have a long evening's work before me, and that I shall not be able to get back to dinner to-night? (_Exit the Clerk._) Whenever will they trust a General Commanding a District to spend for the public good on his own responsibility a sum as large as a schoolboy's allowance, and so take some of the unnecessary work off our shoulders? [_He tackles wearily another file of papers._ * * * * * [Illustration: UNDER COVER. "So glad to see you, Mrs. Bamsby! And how is your dear husband? Where _is_ the Colonel? I was only saying the other day, 'I wonder when I shall see Colonel Bamsby!'" _Mrs. Colonel B._ "You'll see him _now_, my dear if I just step aside, or you walk round me."] * * * * * [Illustration: EASTER MANOEUVRES. _Adjutant._ "Your orders are that when you are attacked, Captain Slasher, you are to fall back slowly." _Capt. Slasher._ "In which direction am I to retire, sir?" _Adjutant._ "Well, the proper way, of course, would be over that hill, but--_they intend to have lunch behind that farmhouse in the valley._"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SYNONYMOUS." _Instructor._ "Now, I've explained the different 'sights,' you, Private Dumpy, tell me what a fine 'sight' is. Describe it as well as you can----" _Private Dumpy._ "A fine sight, sir? A fine sight--(_pondering_)--'s a magnificen' spe'tacle, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VOLUNTEER MANOEUVRES _Sergeant._ "Can I do anything for you, captain?" _Captain._ "Why, thanky, sergeant. If you wouldn't mind giving my other leg a hitch over!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MULTUM IN PARVO _Inspecting Officer._ "How is it your khaki is so much too small?" _Stout Yeoman._ "It do seem a bit skimpy, sur. But tailor says as how I'm bound to grow a 'eap smaller on hactive service, an' 'e's allowin' for shrinkage." * * * * * INSTRUCTIONS TO NAUTICAL MEN IN THE NOBLE ART OF QUADRILLE DANCING LE PANTALON.--Haul upon the starboard tack and let the other craft pass--then bear up and get your head on the other tack--regain your berth on the port tack--back and fill with your partner and boxhaul her--wear round twice against the sun in company with the opposite craft, then your own--afterwards boxhaul her again and bring her up. L'ETE.--Shoot ahead about two fathoms till you nearly come stem on with the other craft under weigh--then make a stern board to your berth and side out for a bend, first to starboard, then to port--make sail and pass the opposite craft--then get your head round on the other tack--another side to starboard and port--then make sail to regain your berth--wear round, back and fill and boxhaul your partner. LA POULE.--Heave ahead and pass your adversary yard-arm to yard-arm--regain your berth on the other tack in the same order--take your station in a line with your partner--back and fill--fall on your heel and bring up with your partner--she then manoeuvres ahead and heaves all aback, fills and shoots ahead again and pays off alongside--you then make sail in company, till nearly stem on with the other line--make a stern board and cast her off to shift for herself--regain your berth in the best means possible, and let go your anchor. LA TRENISE.--Wear round as before against the sun twice, boxhaul the lady, and range up alongside her, and make sail in company--when half-way across to the other shore drop astern with the tide--shoot ahead again and cast off the tow--now back and fix as before and boxhaul her and yourself into your berth, and bring up. LA PASTORALE.--Shoot ahead alongside your partner, then make a stern board--again make all sail over to the other coast--let go the hawser, and pay off into your own berth and take a turn--the three craft opposite range up abreast towards you twice, and back astern again--now manoeuvre any rig you like, only under easy sail, as it is always "light winds" (zephyrs) in this passage--as soon as you see their helms down, haul round in company with them on port tack--then make all sail with your partner into your own berth, and bring up. LA FINALE.--Wear round to starboard, passing under your partner's bows--sight the catheads of craft on your starboard bow--then make sail into your own berth--your partner passing athwart your bows--now proceed according to the second order of sailing--to complete the evolutions shoot ahead and back astern twice, in company with the whole squadron, in the circular order of sailing. * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT THE "BRITISH GRENADIER" IS INEVITABLY COMING TO Some talk of Alexander, and some of Pericles, Of Hector and Lysander, and such old guys as these; But of all the horrid objects, the "wust" I do declare, Is the Prusso-Russo-Belgo-Gallo-British Grenadier. ] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE RESERVE FORCES." _Militia Officer._ "Augh!--a new man. Ah--'ve you been in 'service before?" _Recruit._ "Yes, sir." _Officer._ "Augh--what regiment?" _Recruit._ "Mrs. Wiggins's coachman, sir!!"] * * * * * [Illustration] THE END BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE * * * * * 
38111	----	[Illustration: George Du Maurier] ENGLISH SOCIETY SKETCHED BY GEORGE DU MAURIER [Illustration: Logo] NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 1897 Copyright, 1886, 1887, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1893, 1894, 1895, and 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. _All rights reserved._ GEORGE DU MAURIER I was thinking, with a pang, just before I put my pen to the paper, that the death of George du Maurier must be a fact of stale interest to the reader already, and that it would be staler yet by the time my words reached him. So swiftly does the revolving world carry our sorrow into the sun, our mirth into the shade, that it is as if the speed of the planet had caught something of the impatience of age, and it were hurried round upon its axis with the quickened pulses of senility. But perhaps this is a delusion of ours who dwell in the vicissitude of events, and there are still spots on the earth's whirling surface, lurking-places of quiet, where it seems not to move, and there is time to remember and to regret; where it is no astonishing thing that a king should be a whole month dead, and yet not forgotten. At any rate, it is in the hope, if not quite the faith, of this that I venture some belated lines concerning a man whom we have lost just when he seemed beginning to reveal himself. I. It was my good fortune to have the courage to write to Du Maurier when _Trilby_ was only half printed, and to tell him how much I liked the gay, sad story. In every way it was well that I did not wait for the end, for the last third of it seemed to me so altogether forced in its conclusions that I could not have offered my praises with a whole heart, nor he accepted them with any, if the disgust with its preposterous popularity, which he so frankly, so humorously expressed, had then begun in him. But the liking which its readers felt had not yet become loathsome to the author, and he wrote me back a charming note, promising me the mystery, and enough of it, which I had hoped for, because of my pleasure in the true-dreaming in _Peter Ibbetson_; and speaking briefly, most modestly and fitly, of his commencing novelist at sixty, and his relative misgivings and surprises. It was indeed one of the most extraordinary things in the history of literature, and without a parallel, at least to my ignorance. He might have commenced and failed; that would have been infinitely less amazing than his most amazing success; but it was very amazing that he should have commenced at all. It is useless to say that he had commenced long before, and in the literary property of his work he had always been an author. This theory will not justify itself to any critical judgment; one might as well say, if some great novelist distinguished for his sense of color took to painting, that he had always been an artist. The wonder of Du Maurier's essay, the astounding spectacle of his success, cannot be diminished by any such explanation of it. He commenced novelist in _Peter Ibbetson_, and so far as literature was concerned he succeeded in even greater fulness than he has succeeded since. He had perfect reason to be surprised; he had attempted an experiment, and he had performed a miracle. As for the nature, or the quality, of his miracle, that is another question. I myself think that in all essentials it was fine. The result was not less gold because there was some dross of the transmuted metals hanging about the precious ingot, and the evidences of the process were present, though the secret was as occult as ever. He won the heart, he kindled the fancy, he bewitched the reason; and no one can say just how he did it. His literary attitude was not altogether new; he perfected an attitude recognizable first in Fielding, next in Sterne, then in Heine, afterwards in Thackeray: the attitude which I once called confidential, and shook three realms beyond seas, and their colonial dependencies here, with the word. It is an attitude which I find swaggering in Fielding, insincere in Sterne, mocking in Heine, and inartistic in Thackeray; but Du Maurier made it lovable. His whole story was a confidence; whatever illusion there was resided in that fact; you had to grant it in the beginning, and he made you grant it gladly. A trick? Yes; but none of your vulgar ones; a species of legerdemain, exquisite as that of the Eastern juggler who plants his ladder on the ground, climbs it, and pulls it up after him into the empty air. It wants seriousness, it wants the last respect for the reader's intelligence, it wants critical justification; it wants whatever is the very greatest thing in the very greatest novelists; the thing that convinces in Hawthorne, George Eliot, Tourguénief, Tolstoy. But short of this supreme truth, it has every grace, every beauty, every charm. It touches, it appeals, it consoles; and it flatters, too; if it turns the head, if it intoxicates, well, it is better to own the fact that it leaves one in not quite the condition for judging it. I made my tacit protest against it after following Trilby, poor soul, to her apotheosis at the hands of the world and the church; but I fell a prey to it again in the first chapters of _The Martian_, and I expect to continue in that sweet bondage to the end. II. If I venture to say that sentimentality is the dominant of the Du Maurier music, it is because his art has made sentimentality beautiful; I had almost said real, and I am ready to say different from what it was before. It is a very manly sentimentality; we need not be ashamed of sharing it; one should rather be ashamed of disowning its emotions. It is in its sweetness, as well as its manliness, that I find the chief analogy between Du Maurier's literature and his art. In all the long course of his dealing with the life of English society, I can think of but two or three instances of ungentleness. The humor which shone upon every rank, and every variety of character, never abashed the lowly, never insulted women, never betrayed the trust which reposed in its traditions of decency and generosity. If we think of any other caricaturist's art, how bitter it is apt to be, how brutal, how base! The cruelties that often pass for wit, even in the best of our own society satires, never tempted him to their ignoble exploitation; and as for the filthy drolleries of French wit, forever amusing itself with one commandment, how far they all are from him! His pictures are full of the dearest children, lovely young girls, honest young fellows; snobs who are as compassionable as they are despicable, bores who have their reason for being, hypocrites who are not beyond redemption. It is in his tolerance, his final pity of all life, that Du Maurier takes his place with the great talents; and it is in his sympathy for weakness, for the abased and outcast, that he classes himself with the foremost novelists of the age, not one of whom is recreant to the high office of teaching by parable that we may not profitably despise one another. Not even Svengali was beyond the pale of his mercy, and how well within it some other sorts of sinners were, the grief of very respectable people testified. I will own myself that I like heroes and heroines to be born in wedlock when they conveniently can, and to keep true to it; but if an author wishes to suppose them otherwise I cannot proscribe them except for subsequent misbehavior in his hands. The trouble with Trilby was not that she was what she was imagined, but that finally the world could not imaginably act with regard to her as the author feigned. Such as she are to be forgiven, when they sin no more; not exalted and bowed down to by all manner of elect personages. But I fancy Du Maurier did not mean her to be an example. She had to be done something with, and after all she had suffered, it was not in the heart of poetic justice to deny her a little moriturary triumph. Du Maurier was not a censor of morals, but of manners, which indeed are or ought to be the flower of morals, but not their root, and his deflections from the straight line in the destiny of his creations must not be too seriously regarded. I take it that the very highest fiction is that which treats itself as fact, and never once allows itself to be otherwise. This is the kind that the reader may well hold to the strictest accountability in all respects. But there is another kind capable of expressing an engaging beauty, and bewitchingly portraying many phases of life, which comes smiling to you or (in vulgar keeping) nudging you, and asking you to a game of make-believe. I do not object to that kind either, but I should not judge it on such high grounds as the other. I think it reached its perfect effect in Du Maurier's hands, and that this novelist, who wrote no fiction till nigh sixty, is the greatest master in that sort who ever lived, and I do not forget either Sterne or Thackeray when I say so. III. When I first spoke, long ago, of the confidential attitude of Thackeray, I said that now we would not endure it. But I was wrong, if I meant that more than the very small number who judge novels critically would be impatient of it. No sooner were those fearful words printed than I began to find, to my vast surprise, that the confidential attitude in Thackeray was what most pleased the greatest number of his readers. This gave me an ill opinion of their taste, but I could not deny the fact; and the obstreperous triumph of _Trilby_, which was one long confidence, has since contributed to render my defeat overwhelming. Du Maurier's use of the method, as he perfected it, was so charming that I am not sure but I began to be a little in love with it myself, though ordinarily superior to its blandishments. It was all very well to have Thackeray weep upon your neck over the fortunes of his characters, but if he had just been telling you they were puppets, it was not so gratifying; and as for poor Sterne, his sighs were so frankly insincere you could not believe anything he said. But Du Maurier came with another eye for life, with a faith of his own which you could share, and with a spirit which endeared him from the first. He had prodigious novelties in store: true-dreaming, hypnotism, and now (one does not know quite what yet) intelligence from the neighborly little planet Mars. He had the gift of persuading you that all his wonders were true, and his flattering familiarity of manner heightened the effect of his wonders, like that of the prestidigitator, who passes round in his audience, chatting pleasantly, while he pours twenty different liquors out of one magical bottle. I would not count his beautiful talent at less than its rare worth, and if this figure belittles that, it does him wrong. Not before in our literature has anything more distinct, more individual, made itself felt. I have assumed to trace its descent, from this writer to that; but it was only partly so descended; in what made it surprising and captivating, it was heaven-descended. We shall be the lonelier and the poorer hereafter for the silence which is to be where George du Maurier might have been. W. D. HOWELLS. ENGLISH SOCIETY [Illustration: POST-PRANDIAL STUDIES FAIR HOSTESS (_passing the wine_).--"I hope you admire this decanter, Admiral?" GALLANT ADMIRAL.--"Ah! it's not the vessel I am admiring...." FAIR HOSTESS.--"I suppose it's the _port_?" GALLANT ADMIRAL.--"Oh, no; it's the pilot."] * * * * * [Illustration: HAMPERED WITH A CONSCIENCE TOMMY (_home from an afternoon party_).--"Mamma, darling, I've got a great favor to ask of you.... _Please_ don't ask me _how I behaved_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FELINE AMENITIES OLD LADY (_to fashionable beauty, who has recently married the General_).--"And so that white-haired old darling is your husband! What a good-looking couple you must once have been!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TAKING THE CHANCES THE GENERAL.--"I've brought you a new book, Aunt Emily, by the new French Academician. I'm told it's very good; but I've not read it myself, so I'm not sure it's quite--a--quite correct, you know." AUNT EMILY.--"My dear boy, I'm ninety-six, and I'll _risk_ it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A PAINTER'S WIFE SIR BINKS (_who always piques himself on saying just the right thing_).--"A--what I like so much about the milkmaid, dontcherknow, is that your husband hasn't fallen into the usual mistake of painting a lady dressed up in milkmaid's clothes! She's so unmistakably a milkmaid and nothing else, dontcherknow!" THE PAINTER'S WIFE.--"I'm _so_ glad you think so.... He painted her from _me_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LADIES OF FASHION AND THEIR DOCTORS (SCENE: The Waiting-Room of a Fashionable Physician.) FAIR PATIENT (_just ushered in_).--"What--_you_ here, Lizzie? Why, ain't you _well_?" SECOND DITTO.--"Perfectly, thanks! But what's the matter with _you_, dear?" FIRST DITTO.--"Oh, nothing whatever! I'm as right as possible, dearest...!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "BONJOUR, SUZON!"] * * * * * [Illustration: RIVAL SMALL AND EARLIES] * * * * * [Illustration: MOTHER'S DARLINGS] * * * * * [Illustration: DAYLIGHT WISDOM ELDER SISTER.--"Oh! he proposed after supper, did he--after dancing with you all night--and you refused him? Quite right! My dear child, never believe in _any_ proposal until the young man calls at eleven in the morning and asks you to be his wife!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNAPPRECIATED COMPLIMENT "Good-night, Miss Maud!" "I'm _not_ Miss Maud." "Miss _Ethel_, I mean. Won't you shake hands with me? How ungrateful of you! and just after I've been taking you for your lovely sister, too."] * * * * * [Illustration: LE MONDE OÙ L'ON S'ENNUIE "I see a tent. I wonder what's going on inside? Let's go and see...." "What's the good of our going in there?" "What's the good of our stopping out here?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE TABLES TURNED TIRED DAUGHTERS.--"Don't you think we might _go_ now, mamma? It's three o'clock." FESTIVE MAMMA.--"Oh, that's not so _very_ late, darlings.... Mayn't I have _one_ more dance?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A SLEEPY HOLLOW IN THE OLD COUNTRY (The Common Room at St. Morpheus, Oxbridge.) FIRST TUTOR (_waking up, and languidly helping himself to his modest glass of claret_).--"Ah! I like a little sleep after dinner.... It makes one ready for one's wine!" SECOND TUTOR.--"Well, _I_ like a little sleep _before_ dinner best!" THE MASTER.--"Pooh! Talk to me of the after-breakfast sleep in term-time! That's what _I_ enjoy!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TAKING ONE TOO MUCH AT ONE'S WORD HOSTESS.--"Won't you play us something, Mr. Spinks?" MUSICAL AMATEUR (_who thinks a good deal of himself, in spite of his modesty_).--"Oh, don't ask me--you are all such first-rate performers here--and you play such good music, too." HOSTESS.--"Well, but we like a little _variety_, you know."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ENGLISH TAKE THEIR PLEASURES SADLY] * * * * * [Illustration: A DAUGHTER OF HETH LIONEL.--"Oh, I _say_, Benjamin! how splendid your wife is looking! _She_ pays for dressing, if you _like_!" BENJAMIN.--"_Does_ she, my boy? I only wish she _did_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF AGE TEDDY.--"How old are you, Aunt Milly?" AUNT MILLY (_who owns to 35_).--"Oh, Teddy, almost a hundred!" TEDDY.--"Auntie, I can't believe you! I'd believe you if you'd said fifty!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BREAKFAST AT BONNEBOUCHE HALL "A southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim a hunting morning."] * * * * * [Illustration: BUSINESS SIR BEDIVERE DE VERE.--"Oh, I say. How you do chaff! You never take me seriously!" AMERICAN BELLE.--"You never asked me!" (_No cards._)] * * * * * [Illustration: DOMESTIC ECONOMY MATER.--"Papa, dear, do you know a halfpenny weekly paper called _Flipbutts_?" PATER.--"Never heard of it in my life!" MATER.--"Well, it offers ninepence a column for answering questions, and they _are_ so difficult, and we _do_ so want to make a little money! Do leave off your novel and help us a little." (_Pater can only write two novels a year, but gets £10,000 for each of them._)] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT INDUCED HIM TO MARRY HER? HE.--"Look! Here comes young Brummell Washington, with his bride. I wonder what on earth induced him to marry her?" SHE.--"Oh, probably somebody bet him he wouldn't!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CLAIM TO SOCIAL PRECEDENCE HOSTESS.--"You must give your arm to Miss Malecho, William, and put her on your right, and make yourself as agreeable as you possibly can!" HOST.--"Why, she's a person of no consequence whatever!" HOSTESS.--"Oh, yes, she is! She's very ill-natured, and tells the most horrid lies about people if they don't pay her the very greatest attention!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INTRODUCTION "Auntie, darling, this is my new friend, Georgie Jones. He _is_ nice. And isn't it funny, my birthday is the ninth of January, and his is the tenth, so you see we only just escaped being twins!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BANJONALITIES (The Freemasonry of Art.) HE.--"I beg your pardon--but--er would you be so kind as to give me the 'G'?" SHE.--"Oh, certainly." (_Gives it._) HE.--"Thanks, awfully!" (_Bows and proceeds on his way._)] * * * * * [Illustration: TEUTONIC SATIRE HOSTESS.--"Oh, _pray_ don't leave off, Herr Rosencranz. That was a lovely song you just began!" EMINENT BARYTONE.--"Yes, matame, bot it tit not harmonise viz de cheneral gonferzation. It is in _B vlat_, and you and all your vrents are talking in _G_. I haf a zong in _F_ and a zong in _A sharp_, bot I haf no zong in _G_!" ACCOMPANIST.--"Ach! Berhaps, to opliche matame, I could dransbose de aggombaniments--ja?"] * * * * * [Illustration: REASONING FROM INDUCTION "Look, Geoffrey! That's Lady Emily Tomlinson. Isn't she pretty?" "Yes. And I s'pose that's _Lord_ Emily walking with her!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THOSE INFELICITOUS SPEECHES PROFESSOR BOREHAM.--"What! alone, Mrs. Highflyer? Your husband is not ill, I trust!" MRS. HIGHFLYER (_innocently_).--"Oh no; but he was afraid he might be, if he came here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL PERSEVERANCE MRS. ONSLOW-PUSHINGTON.--"What a very singular woman Lady Masham _is_, Professor! I have called on her every Wednesday this month, and the footman (who knows me perfectly) always said she was out, though Wednesday's her day at home, and there were lots of carriages at the door! She never calls on me--never! And when I bow to her, as I always do, she always looks another way, as she did just now. I must really call again next Wednesday."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LAST STRAW! "What's the matter, dearest? You look sad...." "Oh, everything's going wrong. The children are ill in bed, and nurse has got the influenza, and my husband declares that ruin is staring us in the face, and I've got an unbecoming frock, and altogether I'm thoroughly depressed...." (_Breaks down._)] * * * * * [Illustration: JUST IN TIME FOR A CUP OF TEA] * * * * * [Illustration: FELINE AMENITIES THE MISSES TIPTYLTE.--"Such fun! We're going to Mrs. Masham's fancy ball as Cinderella's ugly sisters--with false noses, you know!" MISS AQUILA SHARPE.--"What a capital idea! But why false noses?"] * * * * * [Illustration: NEIGHBORLY COMPLIMENTS "Tell me, Mrs. Jones, who's that young Adonis your married daughter is looking up to so eagerly?" "Her _husband_, Mrs. Snarley!" "Dear me, you don't say so! I congratulate you.... Now I understand how you come to have such good-looking grandchildren."] * * * * * [Illustration: GENTLE TERRORISM THE PROFESSOR.--"Will you give me a kiss, my dear?" EFFIE (_an habitually naughty girl_).--"Oh, mammie.... I'll be _good_, I'll be _good_.... I promise!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNPLEASANT SOCIAL DUTY HOSTESS.--"Geoffrey, I want you to dance with that little girl!" GEOFFREY.--"Oh, well, if I must, I _must_...!"] * * * * * [Illustration: STREET DIALECTICS BROWN (_who was all but run over_).--"Why didn't you call out _sooner_, you stupid ass?" CABBY.--"I _did_, sir!" BROWN.--"Why didn't you call out _louder_, then?" CABBY.--"I _did_, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EQUAL TO THE OCCASION MRS. GUSHINGTON.--"Oh! oh! what a lovely, _lovely_ picture! So true, so...." OUR ARTIST.--"Wait a bit, Mrs. Gushington--it's wrong side up.... Let me put it right first...!" (_Does so._) MRS. GUSHINGTON (_unabashed_).--"Oh! oh! oh! Why, _that_ way it's even more lovely still!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRECEDENCE AT BONNEBOUCHE HALL DURING THE HOLIDAYS Grandpapa takes the bride in to dinner, and the rest follow anyhow.] * * * * * [Illustration: HISTRIONIC EGOTISM OUR PET ACTOR (_just arrived_).--"By Jove--these good people all seem to know me very well--nodding and smiling"--(_nods and smiles himself, right and left_)--"uncommonly flattering, I'm sure--considering I've never set foot in the town before!" OUR PET ARTIST (_his chum_).--"I'm afraid it's _me_ they're nodding and smiling at, old man! I come every year, you know--and know every soul in the place!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A STATELY STAIRCASE WINDS AROUND A LARGE HALL] * * * * * [Illustration: HOW REPUTATIONS OF DISTINGUISHED AMATEURS ARE SOMETIMES MADE HERR SILBERMUND (the Great Pianist) TO MRS. TATTLER.--"Ach, Lady Creichton has for _bainting_ der most remârrgaple chênius. Look at _dis_! It is eqval to Felasquez!" M. LANGUEDOR (the Famous Painter) TO MISS GUSHINGTON.--"Ah! For ze music, Miladi Crétonne has a talent kvite exceptionnel. Listen to _zat_! It surpass Madame Schumann!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EOTHEN COOK'S TOURIST (_female_).--"What's that jagged white line on the horizon, I wonder?" COOK'S TOURIST (_male_).--"_Snow_, probably!" COOK'S TOURIST (_female_).--"Ah! that's much more likely! I heard the captain saying it was _Greece_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE DANCING MAN OF THE PERIOD "Been dancin' at all?" "Dancin'? Not I! Catch me dancin' in a house where there ain't a smokin'-room! I'm off, directly!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNCONSCIOUS CYNICISM SHE.--"It's such years since we met that perhaps you never heard of my marriage?" HE.--"No, indeed! Is it--er--recent enough for congratulations?"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNLUCKY SPEECHES SHE.--"What a disagreeable thing that insomnia must be! Very trying, I think! Do _you_ ever suffer from it, Captain Spinks?" HE.--"Oh, dear, no. I can sleep anywhere, at any time! Could go off _this moment_, I assure you...!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FIN DE SIÈCLE "That's where poor Mrs. Wilkins used to live!" "Why '_poor_' Mrs. Wilkins?" "Well, her husband was killed in that horrid railway accident, don't you remember?" "Oh, but that was _months_ ago!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CUP OF TEA AND A QUIET CIGARETTE AFTER LUNCH] * * * * * [Illustration: PRECEDENCE IN VANITY FAIR The lady guests go in to dinner with the host and young Sir John and young Sir James and the Hon. Dick Swiveller, while the hostess naturally takes the arm of her nephew, Lord Goslin (_just from Eton_), so that, as the party is just two ladies short, Dr. Jones, the great historian, and Professor Brown, the famous philologist (_whose wives have not been asked_), bring up the rear together. THE DOCTOR.--"Well, Professor, we may be of less _consequence_ than the rest, but at all events we're the _oldest_ and the most renowned!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE COULD WISH TO HAVE EXPRESSED OTHERWISE PUZZLED HOSTESS.--"I beg your pardon, Lord Bovril, but _will_ you tell me whether I ought to take _your_ arm, or Prince Sulkytoff's, or the Duke's?" LORD BOVRIL (Lord-Lieutenant of the County).--"Well--a--since you ask me, I must tell you that--a--as her Majesty's representative, _I_ am bound to claim the honor! But I hope you won't for a moment suppose that I'm fool enough--a--to care _personally_ one rap about that sort of thing!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DANCING MEN] * * * * * [Illustration: ILL-CONSIDERED UTTERANCES WELL-PRESERVED ELDERLY COQUETTE.--"Ah! Admiral, _what_ a good time we had there, junketing and dancing and flirting! It all seems like yesterday! Do you remember the Carew girls, and your old flame Lucy Masters, and that poor boy Jack Lushington, who was so desperately in love with _me_?" THE ADMIRAL.--"Indeed I do, dear Lady Maria! And to think of their all dying ... years ago!... _And of old age, too!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN EQUIVOCAL COMPLIMENT LADY PRATTLER (_a confirmed first-nighter, to actor-manager_).--"I congratulate you on your success last night, Mr. McStamp!... How good you were! It was all charmin'--so light, so bright, so well put on the stage!... And oh! _such nice long entr'actes_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROFESSIONAL BEAUTIES OF THE PAST HOUSEKEEPER (_showing visitors over historic mansion_).--"This is the portrait of Queen Catherine of Medici--sister to the _Venus_ of that name...."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GONDOLETTE] * * * * * [Illustration: A FESTIVE PROCESSION Meet of the Four-in-Hand Club, Hyde Park, London.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE JOYS OF HOSPITALITY JENKINS.--"Good heavens! Why, there's that brute Tomkins! The skunk! I wonder you can ask such a man to your house! I hope you haven't put him near me at dinner, because I shall cut him dead." HOSTESS.--"Oh, it's all right. He told me all about you before you came in." JENKINS.--"Did he? What did he say about _me_, the ruffian?" HOSTESS.--"Oh, nothing much--merely what you've just been saying about _him_."] * * * * * [Illustration: TOO KIND BY HALF HE.--"Oh, I've long given up dancing for my _own_ sake. I only dance now with those unlucky girls that don't get partners. Who's that young lady behind you?" SHE.--"My daughter." HE.--"Pray, introduce me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INFELICITOUS SPEECH "Why, you're looking better already, Sir Ronald!" "Yes, thanks to your delightful hospitality, I've had everything my doctor ordered me: 'Fresh air, good food, agreeable society, and cheerful conversation that involves no strain on the intellect!'"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISAPPOINTMENTS OF LION-HUNTING GUARDSMAN (_gazing at the motley throng_).--"Any great literary or scientific celebrities here to-night, Lady Circe?" LADY CIRCE (_who has taken to hunting Lions_).--"No, Sir Charles. The worst of celebrities in these democratic days is that they won't come unless you ask their wives and families, too! So I ask the wives and families, and the wives and families come in their thousands, if you please, and the celebrities stay at home and go to bed."] * * * * * [Illustration: TWO ON A TOWER JONES (_a rising young British architect_).--"Yes; it's a charming old castle you've bought, Mrs. Prynne, and I heartily congratulate you on being its possessor!" FAIR CALIFORNIA WIDOW (_just settled in the old country_).--"Thanks. And now you must find me a _legend_ for it, Mr. Jones!" JONES.--"I'm afraid I can't manage _that_; but I could add a _story_, if that will do as well!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE ZOO TOMMY.--"Why don't they have little shut-up houses? Why do they have open bars?" DOROTHY (_who knows everything_).--"Oh! that's for them to see the people, of course!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NATURE _VERSUS_ ART Just as Stodge is about to explain the recondite subtleties of his picture to a select circle of deeply interested and delightfully sympathetic women, his wife comes in with the _baby_, confound it!] * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW READING OF A FAMOUS PICTURE "Oh, look, grandpapa! Poor things ... they're burying the baby!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ANTE-POSTHUMOUS JEALOUSY "_Isn't_ Emily Firkinson a darling, Reginald?" "A--ahem--no doubt. I can't say much for her _singing_, you know!" "Ah! but she's so good and true--a perfect angel! I've known her all my life. I want you to _promise_ me something, Reginald." "Certainly, my love!" "If I should die young, and you should ever marry again, promise, oh! promise me that it shall be Emily Firkinson!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DISTINGUISHED PROFESSIONALS HOSTESS (_to host, after dinner_).--"George, dear, how about asking Signor Robsonio and Signora Smithorelli to sing? They'll be mortally _offended_ if we _do_, and they'll be mortally _offended_ if we _don't_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES MRS. BLOKER.--"Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you at breakfast, but I wanted to make _sure_ of you. Mr. and Mrs. Dedleigh Boreham are stopping with me for a few days, and I want you to come and dine to-morrow, or, if you are engaged, Wednesday; or Thursday will do, or Friday or Saturday; or _any_ day next week!" (_Mrs. Brown feebly tries to invent that they have some thoughts of sailing to Honolulu this afternoon, and that they have just lost a relative, but breaks down ignominiously._)] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE BLUE "But doesn't hearing those brilliant speeches sometimes make you change your mind?" "My _mind_? Oh, often! But my _vote_, _NEVER_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NOUS AVONS CHANGÉ TOUT CELA THE OLD MARQUIS OF CARABAS.--"What, madam! There's your lovely but penniless daughter positively dying to marry me; and here I am, willing to settle £20,000 a year on her, and give her one of the oldest titles in England, _and you refuse your consent_!!!! By George, madam, in _my_ young days it wasn't the mothers who objected to men of my sort. It was the _daughters themselves_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SPEECHES ONE HAS TO LIVE DOWN HOSTESS.--"So sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Green." VISITOR.--"Oh, don't mention it. The anticipation, you know, is always so much brighter than the reality."] * * * * * [Illustration: TOO CONSIDERATE MRS. BROWN.--"Oh, Mrs. Smith, _do_ have that sweet baby of yours brought down to show my husband. He's never seen it." MR. BROWN.--"Oh, pray, don't trouble on _my_ account."] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY GENIAL HOSTESS.--"What, going already, Professor?... And _must_ you take your wife away with you?" THE PROFESSOR (_with grave politeness_).--"Indeed, madam, _I am sorry to say I MUST_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT] * * * * * [Illustration: FLUNKYANA (A Visit to the Portrait-Gallery of Brabazon Towers.) "Pardon me! But you have passed over that picture in the corner. An old Dutch master, I think." "Oh, _that_! 'The Burgermaster' it's called By Rembrank, I b'lieve. It ain't nothing much. Only a work of hart. _Not one of the family, you know!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "OH, DON'T YOU REMEMBER SWEET ALICE, BEN BOLT?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A WINDOW STUDY THE MAIDEN.--"Good-morning, Mr. Jones! How do you like my hyacinths?" THE CURATE.--"Well, they prevent me from seeing _you_! I should prefer _Lower_ cinths!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SO _ENGLISH_, YOU KNOW! The Miss Browns (_of "a good" Bayswater family_) playing "Buffalo Gals," with variations, on two American banjoes and an American parlor-grand.] * * * * * [Illustration: SOCIAL TARRADIDDLES MRS. GUSHINGTON (_aside to her husband_).--"What a long, tiresome piece of music that was! Who's it by, I wonder?" MR. GUSHINGTON.--"Beethoven, my love." MRS. GUSHINGTON (_to hostess_).--"My _dear_ Mrs. Brown, what _heavenly_ music! How in every _bar_ one feels the stamp of the greatest genius the world has ever known!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOVE'S LABOR LOST "Oh, papa, we've all quite made up our minds _never to marry_, now we've got this beautiful house and garden!" (_Papa has taken this beautiful house and garden solely with the view of tempting eligible young men to come and play lawn-tennis, etc., etc._)] * * * * * [Illustration: THE MARCH OF PROGRESS SHE.--"After all, there's nothing better than the wing of a chicken! _Is_ there, General?" HE.--"I never tasted the wing of a chicken. I only know the _legs_! When I was _young_, you know, my _parents_ always ate the wings, and _now_, my _children_ always do!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INFELICITOUS QUESTION ÆSTHETIC YOUTH.--"I hope by degrees to have this room filled with nothing but the most perfectly beautiful things...." SIMPLE-MINDED GUARDSMAN.--"And what are you going to do with _these_, then?"] * * * * * [Illustration: I MUST HAVE THIS TOOTH OUT! "I must have this tooth out, it hurts so!" "Oh, _please_ don't, or _I_ shall have to wear it, as I do _all_ of your left-off things!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NEMESIS MRS. CONSTANTIA (_to old adorer, who has married for money_).--"And these are your children, Ronald? Oh!... how like their mother!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TOO LATE HE.--"What! You haven't got a dance left?" SHE.--"No. It's past two o'clock! Why didn't you come earlier?" HE.--"Well, a feller must _dine_, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FEMININE PERVERSITY SHE-GOSSIP (_alluding to newly-wedded pair_).--"There go 'Beauty and the Beast,' as they are called! She _would_ marry him. Her parents strongly opposed the match, as you may imagine." HE-GOSSIP (_who flatters himself that he understands the sex_).--"By George! The parental opposition must have been strong to make her marry such a ruffian as that!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONSOLATION DE SNOOKKE.--"There goes Mrs. _Gatherum_! She never asks _me_ to her parties! I suppose I am not _swell_ enough!" SYMPATHETIC LADY-FRIEND.--"Oh, it can't be _that_! One meets the most rowdy people in London there."] * * * * * [Illustration: CAPTAIN LELONGBOW CAPTAIN LELONGBOW (_a fascinating but most inveterate romancer about his own exploits_).--"Who's your favorite hero in _fiction_, Miss Vera?" MISS VERA.--"_You_ are!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ÆSTHETICS MRS. VAN TROMP.--"Oh, Sir Charles! Modern English male attire is _too_ hideous. Just look round ... there are only two decently dressed men in the room!" SIR CHARLES.--"Indeed! And which are _they_, may I ask?" MRS. VAN TROMP.--"Well, I don't know _who_ they are, exactly; but just now one seems to be offering the other a cup of tea."] * * * * * [Illustration: AN ACCOMMODATION VOCALIST (_to fair Stranger_).--"A--I'm going to sing '_Fain would I clasp thee closer, love_!' May I look at you while I am singing?" FAIR STRANGER.-"Oh, certainly! Or at my grandmother."] * * * * * [Illustration: "SVENGALI!... SVENGALI!... SVENGALI!"] * * * * * BOOKS WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE DU MAURIER { Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental $1 50 PETER IBBETSON { Three-Quarter Calf 3 25 { Three-Quarter Levant 4 25 { Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental 1 75 TRILBY { Three-Quarter Calf 3 50 { Three-Quarter Levant 4 50 THE MARTIAN (_Mr. Du Maurier's last work, now running as a serial in "Harper's Magazine," began in the number for October, 1896_). TRILBY SOUVENIR. Photogravures in Portfolio 8vo 50 IN BOHEMIA WITH DU MAURIER. By Moscheles 8vo 2 50 Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York _For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers on receipt of price._ Transcriber's Notes: Words surrounded by _ are italicized. Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Pg 2, word "indefinitely" changed to "infinitely" (infinitely less amazing). Caption for illustration A DAUGHTER OF HETH, name "BENJAMIM" changed to "BENJAMIN." 
41057	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). The oe ligature is shown as [oe]. OUR PEOPLE Sketched by CHARLES KEENE. from the Collection of "Mr. Punch." Boston, James R. Osgood & Co. 1881. "Our People." Sketches from 'Punch' by 'C. K.' Illustration OUR PEOPLE. AT HOME. OUR PEOPLE. STREET-LIFE. OUR PEOPLE. IN THE COUNTRY. OUR PEOPLE. TRAVELLING. OUR PEOPLE. PROFESSIONAL. OUR PEOPLE. OFFICIAL. OUR PEOPLE. IN THE ARMY. OUR PEOPLE. ART AND ARTISTS. OUR PEOPLE. VOLUNTEERS. OUR PEOPLE. AT BUSINESS. OUR PEOPLE. DOMESTICS. OUR PEOPLE. WORKING FOLK. OUR PEOPLE. IN IRELAND. OUR PEOPLE. IN SCOTLAND. &c., &c. Illustration: Toots! theres no a Jok' i' th' 'hale beuk! COMPANION to "OUR PEOPLE," ENGLISH SOCIETY AT HOME, Society Pictures By GEORGE DU MAURIER. JAMES R. OSGOOD & Co., PUBLISHERS. Illustration: Mens Conscia. =Inspector= (_who notices a backwardness in History_). "WHO SIGNED MAGNA CHARTA?" (_No answer._) =Inspector= (_more urgently_). "WHO SIGNED MAGNA CHARTA?" (_No answer._) =Inspector= (_angrily_). "WHO SIGNED MAGNA CHARTA!!?" =Scapegrace= (_Thinking matters are beginning to look serious_). "PLEASE, SIR, 'TWASN'T ME, SIR!!" Illustration: _Dignity._ =Club "Buttons."= "I'M AT THE 'JUNIOR PENINSULAR' NOW." =Friend.= "WHAT! DID YOU 'GET THE SACK' FROM 'THE REYNOLDS'?" =Buttons= (_indignant_). "GO ALONG WITH YER! 'GET THE SACK!' I SENT IN MY RESI'NATION TO THE C'MMITTEE!" Illustration: _Family Pride._ =First Boy.= "MY FATHER'S A ORFICER." =Second Boy.= "WHAT ORFICER?" =First Boy.= "WHY, A CORPORAL!" =Third Boy= (_evidently "comic"_). "SO'S MY FATHER--HE'S A ORFICER, TOO--A GENERAL, HE IS!" =Fourth Boy.= "GO ALONG WITH YER!" =Third Boy.= "SO HE IS--HE'S A _GENERAL DEALER_!!" Illustration: _Bad Customer._ =Landlady.= "WHAT GENTLEMAN'S LUGGAGE IS THIS, SAM?" =Ancient Waiter.= "GE'TLEMAN'S LUGGAGE, 'M! 'OR' BLESHYER, NO, MUM! THAT'S _ARTIS'S TRAPS_, THAT IS. THEY'LL 'AVE TEA HERE TO-NIGHT, TAKE A LITTLE LODGIN' TO-MORROW, AND THERE THEY'LL BE A LOAFIN ABOUT THE PLACE FOR MONTHS, DOIN' NO GOOD TO NOBODY!" Illustration: "_March of Refinement._" =Brown= (_behind the Age, but hungry_). "GIVE ME THE BILL OF FARE, WAITER." =Head Waiter.= "BEG PARDON, SIR?" =Brown.= "THE BILL OF FARE." =Head Waiter.= "THE WHAT, SIR? O!--AH!--YES!"--(_to Subordinate_)--"CHAWLES, BRING THIS--THIS--A--GEN'LEMAN--THE _MENOO_!!" Illustration: _Refrigerated Tourists._ =Provincial Waiter.= "ICE! GENTLEMEN! THERE AIN'T NO ICE IN AUTUMN TIME. BUT IT'S EASY TO SEE YOU ARE GENTS FROM LONDON, AS DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT NATURE, AND I DON'T BLAME YOU FOR IT, IN COURSE. BUT, ICE IN AUGUST!" _Exit, sniggering._ Illustration: Intelligent Pet. "MA, DEAR, WHAT DO THEY PLAY THE ORGAN SO LOUD FOR, WHEN 'CHURCH' IS OVER? IS IT TO WAKE US UP?" Illustration: "Durance." =Little Daughter.= "WON'T THEY LET US OUT WITHOUT PAYING, MA'?" Illustration: _The Mystery Solved._ =Effie= (_our Parson's little daughter: her first experience of "Church." Aloud--with intense surprise_). "PA AND ALL THE DEAR LITTLE BOYS, IN THEIR NIGHTGOWNS, GOING TO BYE-BYE!!" Illustration: _A Pledged M. P._ =M. P.'s Bride= "OH! WILLIAM, DEAR--IF YOU ARE--A LIBERAL--DO BRING IN A BILL--NEXT SESSION--FOR THAT UNDERGROUND TUNNEL!!" Illustration: "_Perils of the Deep._" =Unprotected Female= (_awaking old Gent., who is not very well_). "O, MISTER, WOULD YOU FIND THE CAPTAIN? I'M SURE WE'RE IN DANGER! I'VE BEEN WATCHING THE MAN AT THE WHEEL; HE KEEPS TURNING IT ROUND FIRST ONE WAY AND THEN THE OTHER, AND EVIDENTLY DOESN'T KNOW HIS OWN MIND!!" Illustration: "_The Pink of Fashion._" "OUR FLOWER SHOW WAS A DECIDED SUCCESS THIS YEAR, AND LITTLE FIDKINS IN AN EMBROIDERED FLORAL WAISTCOAT WAS KILLING!" Illustration: _The Bird Show._ =That Charming Gal= _with the blue feather_ (_to Prize Canary_). "SWEETY, DEAR!" =Comic Man= (_"Dolcissimo con Brio," from the other side of the pedestal_). "YES, DUCKY!" _Utterly ruining the hopes, and taking the wind out o' the sails of his tall friend (serious man), who had been spoonying about her all the afternoon, and thought he had made an impression!_ Illustration: "_Trying._" =Happy Swain= (_she has "named the day"_). "AND NOW, DEAREST EDITH, THAT IS ALL SETTLED. WITH REGARD TO JEWELLERY, MY LOVE; WOULD YOU LIKE A SET IN PLAIN GOLD, OR----" =Edith= (_economical and courageous, and who suffers a good deal from toothache_). "OH, AUGUSTUS, NOW YOU ASK ME--DO YOU KNOW--I--REALLY--BUT--MR. CLINCH TOLD ME YESTERDAY THAT HE COULD EXTRACT ALL I HAVE, AND PUT IN A BEAUTIFUL NEW SET FOR ONLY FIFTEEN GUINEAS!!" Illustration: Common Prudence. =Snob.= "OH, LET'S GET OUT O' THIS MOB, 'ARRY! THEY'LL THINK WE'RE A GOIN' TO _CHURCH_!" Illustration: The Triumphs of Temper. =Fare= (_out of patience at the fourth "jib" in a Mile_). "HI, THIS WON'T DO! I SHALL GET OUT!" =Cabby= (_through the trap, in a whisper_). "AH THIN, SOR, NIVER MIND HER! SIT STILL! DON'T GIVE HER THE SATISFACTION AV KNOWIN' SHE'S GOT RID AV YE!!" Illustration: "For Better for Worse." _Our friend Bagnidge (hasn't a rap) has just married the widow (rich) of old Harlesden the stockbroker._ =Mrs. B.= (_Retiring_). "SHALL I SEND MY POPPET HIS SLIPPERS?" =Mr. B.= "N-N-N-N-O--NOT AT PRESENT, THANKS!" (_Sotto voce to his guest when the door was closed._) "NOT SO FOND OF HAVING THE MUZZLES ON MY FEET AT EIGHT O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING, YOU KNOW, BARNEY!!" Illustration: A Half Truth. =Guard= (_of the Fatuous Railway Company, that still forbids tobacco_). "STRONG SMELL OF SMOKE, SIR!" =Passenger= (_his cigar covered by his newspaper_). "YA-AS; THE PARTY WHO HAS JUST GOT OUT HAS BEEN SMOKING FURIOUSLY!!" Illustration: Poor Humanity! =Bride.= "I THINK--GEORGE, DEAR--I SHOULD--BE BETTER--IF WE WALKED ABOUT----" =Husband= (_one wouldn't have believed it of him_). "YOU CAN DO AS YOU LIKE, LOVE. I'M VERY WELL(!) AS I AM!!" Illustration: _Family Ties._ (_Respec'fully dedicated to Mr. Punch's excellent friends at the Egyptian Hall--M. and C._) =Aunt.= "GRACIOUS GOODNESS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY CUPBOARD, YOU NAUGHTY BOYS?" =Jacky.= "OH, AUNT, WE'RE PLAYING 'MASCULINE AND COOK'! I TIE HIM TO THE CHAIR, AND WHEN THE DOOR'S OPENED HIS HANDS ARE FREE. THEN HE DOES ME!!" Illustration: "_Prevention Better than Cure._" =Jeames= (_excitedly_). "HERE--HERE--HERE'S THE SHILLIN'! QUICK--QUICK--OFF WITH YOU!" =German Impostor= (_affecting concern_). "DERE IS SOME VUN ILL?" =Jeames.= "WELL, NOT JUST YET! BUT THERE PRECIOUS SOON WILL BE, IF YOU DON'T KNOCK OFF!" Illustration: The Roll-Call. =Sergeant.= "ALISTER MCALISTER!" =Answer.= "HAMISHO!" =Sergeant.= "DONAL' MCBEAN!" =Answer.= "HAMISHO!" =Sergeant.= "PETER MCKAY!" ANSWER. "HAMISHO!" =Sergeant.= "JOHN SMITH!" =Answer.= "HERE, SIR!" =Sergeant= (_with a Sniff_). "UGH! 'ENGLISH POCK-PUDDING'"!! Illustration: _Gentility in Greens._ (_Mrs. Brown finds Sandymouth a very different place from what she remembers it years ago!_) =Greengrocer.= "CABBAGE, MUM!? WE DON'T KEEP NO SECOND-CLASS VEGETABLES, MUM. YOU'LL GET IT AT THE LOWER END O' THE TOWN!" Illustration: _Plain to Demonstration._ =Customer= (_nervously_). "AH! THEY MUST BE VERY IRKSOME AT FIRST." =Dentist= (_exultantly_). "NOT A BIT OF IT, SIR! LOOK HERE, SIR!" (_Dexterously catching his entire set._) "HERE'S MY UPPERS, AND HERE'S MY UNDERS!" Illustration: Unprejudiced! =Swell= (_at the R. A. Exhibition_). "Haw! 've you any Idea--w what Fellaw's Pictu-ars we're to Admi-are this Ye-ar!!!?" Illustration: A Kind Son. =Paterfamilias= (_to his Eldest Son, who is at Bartholomew's_). "GEORGE, THESE ARE UNCOMMONLY GOOD CIGARS! I CAN'T AFFORD TO SMOKE SUCH EXPENSIVE CIGARS AS THESE." =George= (_grandly_). "FILL YOUR CASE--FILL YOUR CASE, GOV'NER!!" Illustration: Crass Ignorance. =First Swell.= "LET'S SEE--TO-MORROW'S----WHAT'S T'DAY, BYTH'BY?" =Second Swell.= "TUESDAY, ISN'T IT?--OR MONDAY?--WAS YEST'DAY SUNDAY? NE' MIND--(_yawns_)--MY MAN'LL BE HERE PWESENTLY--PWECIOUS SHWEWD FELLOW--'TELL US LIKE A SHOT!!" Illustration: A Change in the Weather. =Paterfamilias= (_with a sigh: his family have been to Boulogne for the holidays_). "IT'S ALL UP!" =Bachelor Friend= (_who has enjoyed these little Dinners_). "WHAT'S THE MATTER?" =Paterfamilias.= "TELEGRAM! SHE SAYS THEY'VE ARRIVED SAFE AT FOLKESTONE, AND WILL BE HOME ABOUT 10·30!" Illustration: "Res Angustæ Domi." =Family Man.= "WHERE DO YOU GO THIS YEAR, JINNINGS?" =Bachelor= (_in a sketchy manner_). "OH--BADEN FOR A FEW WEEKS, AND THE WHINE, BELGIUM--P'WAPS GET AS FAR'S VIENNAH! WHERE 'YOU OFF TO?" =Family Man.= "OH, I SUPPOSE I SHALL TAKE THE OLD WOMAN DOWN TO WORTHING--AS USUAL!" _And he says this in anything but a sprightly manner--which was weak and injudicious._ Illustration: _Irish Ingenuity._ =Saxon Tourist.= "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU LOWERING THE SHAFTS FOR?" (_He has just found out that this manoeuvre is gone through at every ascent._) =Car-Driver.= "SHURE, YER 'ONNER, WE'LL MAKE 'M B'LAVE HE'S GOIN' DOWN HILL!" Illustration: _Scrupulous._ =Shepherd.= "O, JIMS, MUN! CAN YE NO GIE A WHUSTLE ON THA RAM'LIN' BRUTE O' MINE? I DAURNA MYSEL'; IT'S JUST FAST-DAY IN OOR PARISH!!" Illustration: A Game Two can Play at. =Guard= (_to Excited Passenger at the Edinburgh Station, just as the Train is Starting_). "YE'RE TOO LATE, SIR. YE CANNA ENTER." =Stalwart Aberdonian.= "A' MAUN!" =Guard= (_holding him back_). "YE CANNA!" =Aberdonian.= "TELL YE A' MAUN--A' WEEL!" (_Gripping Guard._) "IF A' MAUNNA, YE SANNA!!!" Illustration: Decimals on Deck. =Irish Mate.= "HOW MANNY IV YE DOWN THER-RE?!" =Voice from the Hold.= "THREE, SOR!" =Mate.= "THIN HALF IV YE COME UP HERE IMMADIATELY!!" Illustration: More "Revenge for the Union." =Saxon Tourist= (_at Irish Railway Station_). "WHAT TIME DOES THE HALF-PAST ELEVEN TRAIN START, PADDY?" =Porter.= "AT THRUTTY MINUTES TO TWILVE--SHARRUP, SOR!" _Tourist retires up, discomfited._ Illustration: _The Ulster._ =Schoolboy= (_to Brown, in his new great-coat_). "YAH! COME OUT OF IT! D'YOU THINK I DON'T SEE YER!!" Illustration: "_Silence is Golden._" =Chatty Old Gent.= "HAVE YOU LONG HOURS, HE-AR, PORTAR?" =Railway Porter= (_whose Temper has been spoilt_). "SAME AS ANYWHERES ELSE, I S'POSE--SIXTY MINUTES!"----(_Bell rings, Railway Porter touches up Old Gent's favourite corn, and rushes off!_) =Old Gent.= "PH--O--O--O--O--!" Illustration: _Barometrical._ =Draper.= "LIGHT SUMMER DRESS? YES, M'M. SOLD A GREAT MANY THE LAST FEW DAYS, M'M, THE WEATHER HAVIN' RISEN FROM A FRENCH MERINO TO A GRENADINE!" Illustration: _A Family Man._ =Cabby.= "VY, I'M A FATHER OF A FAM'LY MYSELF, MUM,--NOT SO 'ANDSOME AS YOUR LITTLE DEARS, MUM, I DON'T SAY,--AN' D'YOU THINK I'D GO FOR TO OVERCHARGE FOR 'EM? NOT I, MUM! NOT A SIXPENCE, BLESS THEIR LITTLE 'EARTS!" &c., &c. _Claim allowed._ Illustration: _Unconscionable._ =Head of the Firm.= "WANT A HOLIDAY!? WHY, YOU'VE JUST BEEN AT HOME ILL FOR A MONTH!" Illustration: _A Narcotic._ =Doctor.= "LOOK HERE, MRS. MCCAWDLE. DON'T GIVE HIM ANY MORE PHYSIC. A SOUND SLEEP WILL DO HIM MORE GOOD THAN ANYTHING." =Gudewife.= "E-H, DOCTHOR, IF WE COULD ONLY GET HIM TAE THE KIRK!!" Illustration: The Connoisseur. =Host= (_smacking his lips_). "THERE, MY BOY, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT? I THOUGHT I'D GIVE YOU A TREAT. THAT'S '34 PORT, SIR!" =Guest.= "AH! AND A VERY NICE, SOUND WINE, I SHOULD SAY! I BELIEVE IT'S QUITE AS GOOD AS SOME I GAVE 37S. FOR THE OTHER DAY." Illustration: Awful Warning! =Guest= (_at City Company Dinner._) "I'M UNCOMMONLY HUNGRY!" =Ancient Liveryman= (_with feeling_). "TAKE CARE, MY DEAR SIR, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, TAKE CARE! D'YOU KNOW IT HAPPENED TO ME AT THE LAST LORD MAYOR'S DINNER TO BURN MY TONGUE WITH MY FIRST SPOONFUL OF CLEAR TURTLE; 'CONSEQUENCE WAS--(_sighs_)--'COULDN'T TASTE AT ALL--ANYTHING--FOR THE REST OF THE EVENING!!" Illustration: _The Sausage Machine._ =Cook= (_in a fluster_). "O 'F Y' PLEASE, 'M, NO WONDER THE FLAVIOUR O' THEM SASSENGERS WASN'T TO-RIGHTS, 'M, WHICH I'VE JEST NOW KETCHED MASTER ALFRED A CUTTIN' HIS 'CAVENDISH' IN THE MACHINE!" Illustration: Just in Time. =Veteran Piscator.= "HECH! BUT YON'S A MUCKLE FESH LOUPIN' AHINT ME!"----(_It was lucky he looked round!--his Friend from London had preferred Sketching on the Banks, had stumbled over a Boulder, and "Gone a Header" into a deep hole. He was gaffed at his last kick!_) Illustration: _Words and Weights._ =Angler.= "DEUCED ODD, DONALD, I CAN'T GET A FISH OVER SEVEN POUNDS, WHEN THEY SAY MAJOR GRANT ABOVE US KILLED HALF A DOZEN LAST WEEK THAT TURNED TWENTY POUNDS APIECE!" =Donald.= "AWEEL, SIR, IT'S NO THAT MUCKLE ODDS I'TH' SAWMON,--BUT THAE FOWK UP THE WATTER IS BIGGER LEEARS THAN WE ARE DOON HERE!" Illustration: "_Mal Apropos._" =Rector's Wife.= "WELL, VENABLES, HOW DO YOU THINK WE SOLD THE JERSEY COW?" =Venables.= (_Factotum and Gardener_) "WELL, M'M, MASTER BYLES HAS GOT THE BETTER O' WE A MANY TIMES, BUT--(_proudly_)--I THINK AS WE A' DONE HE TO-RIGHTS THIS TURN!!" "_So awkward! and before the Archdeacon, too!_" Illustration: "_A Slip o' the Tongue._" =Yachting Biped.= "THEN YOU'LL LOOK US UP AT PRIMROSE 'ILL?" =New Acquaintance= (_gentlemanly man_). "OH, YES--NEAR THE 'ZOO,' ISN'T IT? WE OFTEN DROP IN AND HAVE A LOOK AT THE MONKEYS!" Illustration: _Confession in Confusion._ =Priest.= "NOW, TELL ME, DOOLAN, TRUTHFULLY, HOW OFTEN DO YOU GO TO CHAPEL?" =Pat.= "WILL, NOW, SHURE OI'LL TILL YER RIV'RENCE THE TRUT'. FAIX, I GO AS OFTEN I CAN AVOID!" Illustration: _The New Running Drill._ (_A respectful appeal to His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief._) CAPTAIN BLUARD, AS HE APPEARED IN COMMAND OF HIS COMPANY. Illustration: _Our Military Manoeuvres._ =Irish Drill-Sergeant= (_to Squad of Militiamen_). "PR'S'NT 'RRMS!"--(_Astonishing result._)--"HIV'NS! WHAT A 'PRISINT'! JIST STIP OUT HERE NOW, AN' LOOK AT YERSILVES!!" Illustration: The Race not yet Extinct. =Country Excursionist= (_just landed at G. W. Terminus_). "COULD YOU INFORM ME WHAT THESE 'ERE BUSSES CHARGE FROM PADDINGTON TO THE BANK?" =Dundreary= (_with an effort_). "AU-H, PO' M'SOUL, HAVEN'T AN IDEA-H! NEVER WODE 'N ONE IN M'LIFE! SHOULD SAY A MERE TWIFLE! P'WAPS A SHILLING, OR TWO SHILLINGS. 'DON'T THINK THE WASCALS COULD HAVE THE CONSCIENCE TO CHARGE YOU MORE THAN THWEE SHILLINGS! 'WOULDN'T PAY MORE THAN FOUR! I'D SEE 'EM AT THE D-D-DOO-OOCE!" Illustration: _A Dilemma._ =Party= (_overcome by the heat of the Weather_). "HOY! CAB!" =Driver.= "ALL RIGHT, SIR, IF YOU'LL JUST WALK TO THE GATE." =Party.= "O, BOTHER! WALKING TO 'GATE!" =Driver.= "WELL, SIR, IF YOU CAN'T GET THROUGH, I DON'T SEE HOW I CAN GET OVER!" Illustration: Adjustment. =Bootmaker= (_who has a deal of trouble with this Customer_). "I THINK, SIR, IF YOU WERE TO CUT YOUR CORNS, I COULD MORE EASILY FIND YOU A PAIR----" =Choleric Old Gentleman=. "CUT MY CORNS, SIR!--I ASK YOU TO FIT ME A PAIR O' BOOTS TO MY FEET, SIR!--I'M NOT GOING TO PLANE MY FEET DOWN TO FIT YOUR BOOTS!!!" Illustration: A Mine of Speculation. =Dealer= (_to Wavering Customer_). "WELL, OF COURSE WE ALL KNOW THAT--HE'S GOT 'IS BAD POINTS AN' 'IS GOOD POINTS; BUT WHAT I SAY IS, THERE'S NO DECEPTION ABOUT 'IS BAD POINTS--WE CAN SEE 'EM. BUT WE CAN'T NONE OF US TELL 'OW MANY GOOD POINTS HE MAY 'AVE TILL WE COMES TO KNOW 'IM!!" _The "Party" took time to consider._ Illustration: "Argumentum ad Hominem!" =Dealer.= "I KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE HIS 'EAD, AND I ALLOW HE AIN'T GOT A PURTY 'EAD; BUT LOR'--NOW LOOK AT GLADSTONE, THE CLEVEREST MAN IN ALL ENGLAND!--AND LOOK AT 'IS 'EAD"!!! Illustration: Veneration. =Lodger.= "I SHALL NOT DINE AT HOME TO-DAY, MA'AM, BUT I'VE A FRIEND COMING THIS EVENING. IF YOU COULD GIVE US SOMETHING NICE FOR SUPPER----" =Landlady= (_Low Church_). "WOULD YOU LIKE THE REMAINDER OF THE COLD TURKEY--AH ('_feels a delicacy_')--HEM! _BEELZE-BUBBED_, SIR?" Illustration: A Soft Answer. =Irascible Old Gent.= "WAITER! THIS PLATE IS QUITE COLD!" =Waiter.= "YESSIR, BUT THE CHOP IS 'OT, SIR, WHICH I THINK YOU'LL FIND IT'LL WARM UP THE PLATE NICELY, SIR!" Illustration: Seasonable Luxury. =Old Gent= (_disgusted_). "HECK, WAITER! HERE'S A--HERE'S A--A--CATERPILLAR IN THIS CHOP!" =Waiter= (_flippantly_). "YESSIR. ABOUT THE TIME O' YEAR FOR 'EM JUST NOW, SIR!" Illustration: Education! =Papa= (_improving the occasion at Luncheon_). "NOW, LOOK, HARRY, THE CIRCUMFERENCE OF THIS CAKE IS EQUAL TO ABOUT THREE TIMES THE DIAMETER, AND----" =Harry.= "OH, THEN, PA', LET ME HAVE THE C'CUMF'RENCE FOR MY SHARE!!" Illustration: Cricket! =Uncle.= "WELL, TOM, AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IN CRICKET THIS HALF?" =Tom.= "OH, BLESS YOU, UNCLE, WE'VE BEEN 'NOWHERE,' THIS SEASON; ALL OUR BEST 'MEN,' YOU KNOW, WERE DOWN WITH THE _MEASLES_!" Illustration: Treacherous Confederate. =Uncle George= (_who has been amusing the Young People with some clever Conjuring_). "NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU SAW ME BURN THE HANDKERCHIEF.--WOULD YOU BE SURPRISED TO FIND--(_Roars of Laughter_)--I SHALL PRODUCE THE ORANGE OUR YOUNG FRIEND HERE WAS SO OBLIGING AS TO OFFER TO TAKE CARE OF, AND INSIDE WHICH, I'VE NO DOUBT, WE SHALL FIND THE SHILLING?!" Illustration: Breaking the Ice. =Sprightly Lady.= "MR. DORMERS, WOULD YOU OBLIGE ME WITH----" =Bashful Curate= (_who had scarcely spoken to his Fair Neighbour_). "O, CERTAINLY. WHAT SHALL I HAVE THE PLEASURE TO OFFER?----" =Lady.= "----A REMARK!!" Illustration: The First Sermon. =Aunt.= "WELL, DAISY, HOW DID YOU LIKE 'CHURCH' YESTERDAY?" =Daisy.= "O, AUNTY, THEY WERE ALL SO QUIET AND LOOKED SO CROSS, I THOUGHT I MUST 'A' SCREAMED!!" Illustration: "Sweet is Revenge, Especially to Women!" CAPTAIN OGLEBY, WHO ANNOYS THE MISS LANKYSTERS SO MUCH ON THE PROMENADE BY HIS OBTRUSIVE ADMIRATION, IS DISCOVERED EARLY ONE MORNING, BY HIS EXULTANT VICTIMS, IN THE ACT OF HAVING AN "EASY SHAVE" IN THE SOMEWHAT LIMITED PREMISES OF THE VILLAGE FIGARO. Illustration: Desperate Case! =M. A.= (_endeavouring to instil Euclid into the mind of Private Pupil going into the Army_). "NOW, IF THE THREE SIDES OF THIS TRIANGLE ARE ALL EQUAL, WHAT WILL HAPPEN?" =Pupil= (_confidently_). "WELL, SIR, I SHOULD SAY THE FOURTH WOULD BE EQUAL, TOO!!" Illustration: Exchange! =Togswell= (_in the Washing Room at the Office, proceeding to dress for the De Browney's Dinner-Party_). "HULLO! WHAT THE DOOCE"--(_Pulling out, in dismay, from black bag, a pair of blue flannel Tights, a pink striped Jersey, and a spiked canvas Shoe._)--"CONFOUND IT! YES!--I MUST HAVE TAKEN THAT FELLOW'S BAG WHO SAID HE WAS GOING TO THE ATHLETIC SPORTS THIS AFTERNOON, AND HE'S GOT MINE WITH MY DRESS CLOTHES!!" Illustration: _A Degenerate Son._ =The Governor= (_indignantly_). "GEORGE, I'M SURPRISED AT YOU! I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU KNEW BETTER! IT'S DISGRACEFUL! IS IT FOR THIS I'VE PAID HUNDREDS OF POUNDS TO GIVE YOU AN UNIVERSITY EDUCATION, THAT YOU SHOULD----" =Son and Heir= (_with cigar_). "WHY--WHAT HAVE I DONE, GOVERNOR?" =The Governor.= "DONE? DARED TO SMOKE, SIR, WHILE YOU ARE _DRINKING MY '34 PORT_!!" Illustration: _Lucid!_ =Irish Sergeant= (_to Squad at Judging-Distance Drill_). "NOW, YE'LL PAY THE GREATEST OF ATTINTION TO THE MAN AT EIGHT HUNDRED YAR-RDS: BECASE, IF YE CAN'T SEE 'M, YE'LL BE DECEIVED IN HIS 'APPARANCE!!" Illustration: _The Riding Lesson._ =Riding Master= (_to Sub, who is qualifying himself for the Punjaub Cavalry_). "IF YER 'EAD WAS ONLY TURNED THE OTHER WAY, WHAT A SPLENDID CHEST YOU'D 'AVE, MR. BOWDRIB!" Illustration: _Look before you Leap._ =Middle-Aged Uncle.= "NOT PROPOSED TO HER YET! WHY, WHAT A SHILLY-SHALLYING FELLOW YOU ARE, GEORGE! YOU'LL HAVE THAT LITTLE WIDOW SNAPPED UP FROM UNDER YOUR NOSE, AS SURE AS YOU'RE BORN! PRETTY GAL LIKE THAT--NICE LITTLE PROPERTY--EVIDENTLY LIKES YOU--WITH AN ESTATE IN THE HIGHLANDS, TOO, AND YOU A SPORTING MAN----" =Nephew.= "AH! THAT'S WHERE IT IS, UNCLE! HER FISHING'S GOOD, I KNOW; BUT I'M NOT SO SURE ABOUT HER _GROUSE_!" Illustration: _No Mistake, this Time._ =Lodger.= "DEAR ME, MRS. CRIBBLES, YOUR CAT'S BEEN AT THIS MUTTON AGAIN!" =Landlady.= "OH NO, MUM, IT CAN'T BE THE CAT. MY 'USBAND SAYS HE B'LIEVES IT'S THE COLLERLARDA BEETLE!" Illustration: _State o' Trade._ =Small Girl.= "PLEASE, MRS. GREENSTOUGH, MOTHER SAYS WILL YOU GIVE HER A LETTUCE?" =Mrs. G.= "GIVE?! TELL THEE MOTHER GIV'UM'S DEAD, AND LENDUM'S VERY BAD. NOTHINK FOR NOTHINK 'ERE, AND PRECIOUS LITTLE FOR SIX-PENCE!!" Illustration: "Let Well Alone!" =Swell.= "AH--WHAT'S YOUR FARE TO HAMPSTEAD BY THE--AH--NEW LAW?!" =Cabby.= "OH, I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN' 'BOUT NO NEW LAWS, SIR!--SAME OLD FARE, SIR--'LEAVE IT TO YOU,' SIR!" Illustration: "_Le Jeu ne Vaut pas la Chandelle._" =Old Gent= (_having had to pay twice_). "BUT I'M POSITIVE I HANDED YOU THE MONEY! IT MAY PROBABLY HAVE DROPPED DOWN THE SLIT IN THE DOOR!" =Conductor.= "SLIT IN THE DOOR!--WELL, 'TAIN'T LIKELY I'M GOIN' TO TURN THE BUS UPSIDE-DOWN FOR SIXPENCE!" Illustration: "Tho' Lost to Sight----" =Aunt Jemima= (_from the country--her first experience of a "Hansom"_). "HOY! HOY! STOP THE HORSE! WHERE'S THE COACHMAN!" Illustration: Precise. =Driver= (_impatient_). "NOW, BILL, WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT?" =Conductor.= "GE'TLEMAN WANTS TO BE PUT DOWN AT NO. 20 A IN CLARINGDON SQUARE, FUST PORTICO ON THE RIGHT AFTER YOU PASS THE 'RED LION,' PRIVATE ENTRANCE ROUND THE CORNER!" =Driver.= "O, CERTAINLY! ASK THE GE'TLEMAN IF WE SHALL DRIVE UP-STAIRS, AN' SET 'IM DOWN AT 'IS BED-ROOM DOOR IN THE THREE-PAIR BACK?" Illustration: _An Extensive Order._ "O, PLEASE, MISS, WILL YOU GIVE US TWO 'A'PENNIES FOR A PENNY, AND GI' ME A DRINK O' WATER, AN' TELL US THE RIGHT TIME? AN' FATHER WANTS A PIPE; AND LEND MOTHER YESTERDAY'S _'TIZER_."!!! Illustration: "_No such Luck._" =Young Lady.= "IS IT HUNGRY, THEN? COME ALONG, LITTLE DARLING, IT SHALL HAVE ITS DINNER." =Street-Sweeper= (_overhearing, and misapplying_). "HERE Y'ARE, MISS! RIGHT YOU ARE! I JEST AM!" _Ah! but it was Fido she was speaking to!_ Illustration: "_'Tis Better not to Know._" =Impudent Boy= (_generally_). "TRY YER WEIGHT--ONLY A PENNY!" (_To Lady of commanding proportions in particular._) "TELL YER 'XACT WEIGHT TO A HOUNCE, MUM!" Illustration: _Vested Interests._ =Sweeper.= "IF YOU DON'T GET OFF MY CROSSIN', I'LL 'EV YOUR NUMBER!" Illustration: "_Chaff._" =Apple-Stall Keeper= (_to the Boys_). "NOW, THEN, WHAT ARE YOU GAPING AT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?" =Street Boy.= "NOTHIN'." =Apple-Stall Keeper.= "THEN TAKE IT, AND BE OFF!" =Street Boy.= "VERY WELL: WRAP IT UP FOR US IN A PIECE O' PAPER!" _Bolts._ Illustration: "_Is It Possible?!_" =Swell= (_lecturing Juvenile Member of Manufacturing Centre_). "YOU SHOULD ALWAYS--AH--TOUCH YOUR HAT TO A GENTLEMAN----" =Factory Lad.= "PLEASE, SIR, I DIDN'T KNOW AS YER WAS ONE!!" Illustration: A Panic in the Kitchen. =Facetious Page.= "NOW, THEN, HERE'S THE CENSUS, AND MASTER'S ORDERED ME TO FILL IT UP. I'VE PUT DOWN YOUR AGES WITHIN A YEAR OR SO, AND YOU'RE TO 'RETURN' YOUR FOLLERERS, IF ANY, HOW MANY, AND STATE 'P'LICE OR MILITARY,' FEES AND TIPS FROM TRADESMEN AND WISITORS 'PER ANN.,' PRICE O' KITCHEN-STUFF, AVERAGE O' BREAKAGES, &C., &C." Illustration: _Proof Positive._ =Mistress.= "YOUR CHARACTER IS SATISFACTORY, BUT I'M VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT ONE THING: I WISH MY SERVANTS TO HAVE PLENTY, BUT I DON'T ALLOW ANY WASTE." =Page.= "OH, NO, 'M, WHICH I'D EAT AND DRINK TILL I BUSTED, 'M, RATHER THAN WASTE ANYTHINK, 'M!!" Illustration: "_Qualifications._" =Painter= (_who has always been ambitious of "writing himself down an R. A._"). "THINK THEY MIGHT HAVE ELECTED ME, HAVING EXHIBITED AND HAD MY NAME DOWN ALL THESE YEARS! I MIGHT HAVE----" =Friend= (_Man o' the World_). "MY DEAR FELLOW, I'VE ALWAYS TOLD YOU, YOU DON'T GO THE RIGHT WAY TO WORK. YOU SEE THEY COULD ONLY ELECT YOU FOR YOUR PAINTING, FOR----WHY DO YOU WEAR SUCH THICK BOOTS?!!" Illustration: _Temptation._ =Painter.= "YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY YOU WANT ME TO SIGN IT, WHEN I TELL YOU I DID NOT PAINT IT? AND A BEASTLY COPY IT IS, TOO!" =Picture-Dealer.= "VY NOT, GOOT SIR? VY NOT? TUT! TUT! TUT! I ONLY VISH YOU ARTIS'S VOS MEN OF BIS'NESS!" Illustration: "_Spoiling It._" =Lord Dabbley.= "WA-AL, STREAKY, WHY I'VE HEARD--AH--YOU'RE NOT GOING TO--(_yawns_)--HAVE A PICT-YAR AT THE EXHIBITION!" =Streaky, R. A.= "HAW, VERY PROBABLY NOT, M'LORD. WELL, I THINK IT ONLY--AH--GRACEFUL, M'LORD, WE SHOULD OCCASIONALLY FOREGO OUR PRIVILEGED SPACE FOR THE SAKE OF OUR YOUNGER PAINTERS--AH! BESIDES--I QUESTION IF I SHALL BE ABLE TO FINISH MY PUBLIC PORTRAITS IN TIME THIS YE-AR!" Illustration: "_Particular!_" =Young Mumford= (_airily, having learnt that the Lady comes from his part of the country_). "DESSAY YOU KNOW THE CADGEBYS OF BILCHESTER?--AWFULLY JOLLY PEOPLE! I----" =Haughty Beauty.= "OH NO, WE ONLY VISIT THE COUNTY FAMILIES AND WE _WEED_ THEM!!" _Her partner wishes this "First Set" was "The Lancers."_ Illustration: _Vivifying Treatment of a Partner._ (_A Tragedy of the last Harrogate Season._) =Young Lady= (_to Partner, instantly on their taking their Places_). "NOW----I'VE BEEN TO FOUNTAINS ABBEY, AND TO BOLTON, AND I'VE SEEN THE BRIMHAM ROCKS, AND THE DROPPING WELL, AND THE VIEW FROM THE OBSERVATORY, AND WE HAD A MORNING IN YORK MINSTER, AND WE HAVE BEEN HERE A FORTNIGHT, AND WE ARE GOING TO STAY ANOTHER, AND PAPA TAKES THE CHALYBEATE WATERS, AND I AM VERY GLAD THE CAVALRY ARE COMING. NOW YOU MAY BEGIN CONVERSATION." _Utter Collapse of Partner._ Illustration: _Arbiter Elegantiarum._ =Housemaid.= "OH, PLEASE, 'M, COULD I GO OUT THIS EVENING? 'CAUSE COOK NEX' DOOR'S GOT A 'LANG'AGE O' FLOWERS BEE,' AND SHE_'s_ REQUESTED ME TO BE ONE O' THE JUDGES!" Illustration: "_The Servants._" =Cook.= "THEN, SHALL YOU GO AS 'OUSEMAID?" =Young Person.= "NO, INDEED! IF I GO AT ALL, I GO AS LADY 'ELP!" Illustration: "_Hard Lines._" =Mistress= (_to former Cook_). "WELL, ELIZA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW?" =Ex-Cook.= "WELL, MUM, AS YOU WOULDN'T GIVE ME NO CHARACTER, I'VE BEEN OBLIGED TO MARRY A SOLDIER!" Illustration: "_Not to Put too Fine a Point on It._" _Transatlantic Party._ "LOOK 'ERE, WAITER! CHANGE THIS KNIFE FOR A PEA-EATER. STRANGER AND ME AIR ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS, AND I MIGHT HURT HIM." Illustration: "_Never Say 'Die'_" =Nephew.= "SURE IT ISN'T GOUT, UNCLE?" =Uncle.= "GOUT! SHTUFF AN' NONSHENSH! NOT A BIT OF IT! NO, FACT IS--PHEW--(_winces_) THESE CON-FOUNDED BOOTMAKERS--THEY MAKE YOUR BOOTS SO _TIGHT_!!" Illustration: _"Ingenuas Didicisse" &c._ =Urbane Foreigner.= "THE--AH--CONTEMPLATION OF THESE--AH--RELICS OF ANCIENT ART IN THE GALLERIES OF EUROPE, MUST BE MOST INT'R'STING TO THE--AH--EDUCATED AMERICAN!" =American Tourist.= "WA'AL, DON'T SEEM TO CARE MUCH FOR THESE _STONE GALS_ SOMEHOW, STRANGER!" Illustration: A Plutocrat. =Swell.= "'D YOU OBLIGE ME--AH--BY SHUTTING YOUR WINDOW?--AH----" =Second Passenger= (_politely_). "REALLY, SIR, IF YOU WILL NOT PRESS IT, AS YOURS IS SHUT, THE AIR IS SO WARM I WOULD RATHER KEEP THIS OPEN. YOU SEEM TO TAKE GREAT CARE OF YOURSELF, SIR----" =Swell.= "CARE OF MYSELF! SHOULD WATHER THINK SO. SO WOULD YOU, MY DEAR FEL-LAH, IF YOU'D SIX THOUSAND A YE-AR!!" Illustration: "Matter!" =Portly Old Swell= (_on reading Professor Tyndall's Speech_). "DEAR ME! IS IT POSS'BLE! MOST 'XTR'ORD'NARY!--(_throws down the Review_)--THAT I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ORIGINALLY A 'PRIMORDIAL ATOMIC GLOBULE'!!" Illustration: A Final Appeal. "NOW, GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY, I THROW MYSELF UPON YOUR IMPARTIAL JUDGEMENT AS HUSBANDS AND FATHERS, AND I CONFIDENTLY ASK, DOES THE PRISONER LOOK LIKE A MAN WHO WOULD KNOCK DOWN AND TRAMPLE UPON THE WIFE OF HIS BOSOM? GENTLEMEN, I HAVE DONE!" Illustration: _Division of Labor._ =Facetious Volunteer Sub.= "LOOK HERE, CAPTAIN; I'M TIRED OF THIS FUN. DO YOU MIND LOOKING AFTER THE MEN WHILE I GO AND GET TAKEN PRISONER?" Illustration: "_Off._" =Sergeant O'Leary.= "DOUBLE! LEFT! RIGHT! WHAT THE BLAZES, PAT ROONEY, D'YE MANE BY NOT DOUBLIN' WID THE SQUAD!?" =Pat.= "SHURE, SERGEANT, 'TWASN'T A FAIR START!" Illustration: _"Where Ignorance is Bliss" &c._ =Frugal Housewife= (_has a large Family_). "OH, MR. STICKINGS, I SEE BY THE DAILY PAPERS THAT THE PRICE OF MEAT HAS FALLEN TWOPENCE A POUND. I THINK YOU OUGHT TO MAKE SOME REDUCTION IN YOUR CHARGES!" =Country Butcher.= "WERRY SORRY, MUM, BUT WE DON'T TAKE IN NO DAILY PAPERS, MUM!!" Illustration: _Complimentary._ =Collier= (_about the Dog_). "YES, SIR, AW GOT HIM IN MANCHESTER, YONDER, AN' DOCTOR AW'S GOING T' AX YE, HEY Y' ONY OBJECTION TIN US NAMIN' HIM EFTHER YE?!" =Young Medical Man= (_rather pleased_). "OH, DEAR NO, BY ALL MEANS--'DON'T KNOW ABOUT THE COMPLIMENT, THOUGH, HE'S NOT A BEAUTY TO LOOK AT!" =Collier.= "MEBBEES NOT, DOCTOR; BUT--SMASH!--MUN, HE'S A BEGGAR TO KILL!!" Illustration: "(_Not_) _Thankful for Small Mercies_" =Cat's-Meat Man.= "WHAT 'A YER GOT FOR DINNER TO-DAY, JOE?" =Crossing-Sweeper.= "OH, A BIT O' ROAST WEAL, SENT ME UP FROM NO. 6 IN THE CRESCENT 'ERE--AN' YER WOULDN'T B'LLEVE IT!--NOT A MOSSEL O' STUFFIN--AH, AN' NOT SO MUCH AS A SLICE O' LEMON!--AND (_with a sneer_) CALLS THEIRSELVES RESPECT'BLE PEOPLE, I'VE NO DOUBT!!" Illustration: _Delicacy._ =Edwin= (_as the Servant is present_). "AH--J'ETTAY SEE--AH--DISAPPOINTAY DE NE PAS VOO VWORE A LA RINK CE MATTANG--POORQWAW ESKER----?" =Angelina.= "AH WEE, MAIS MOMMONG----" =Parlour-Maid.= "HEM! BEG YOUR PARDON, MISS; BUT I UNDERSTAND THE LANGVIDGE!!" Illustration: "The Servants." =Mistress.= "JANE, TELL COOK I'LL COME DOWN AND SEE WHAT SHE WANTS DONE TO THAT STOVE, AS THE BUILDER'S COMING TO-MORROW." =Jane.= "O, PLEASE, 'UM, I DON'T THINK WE CAN AST YOU INTO THE KITCHING TO DAY, MUM, AS COOK AND ME'S GOT A SMALL AND EARLY 'AT OME' THIS AFTERNOON, MUM!" Illustration: Retributive Justice. =Farmer= (_giving the Culprit a Box o' the Ear_). "HOW DARE YOU BEAT THOSE GOSLINS, YOU YOUNG RASCAL? I SAW YOU!" =Boy.= "BOO, OO, OO, WHAT FURR'D THEY GORS-CHICKS FEYTHER BOITE OI THEN FURR?!" Illustration: "By the Card." =Pedestrian.= "HOW FAR IS IT TO SLUDGECOMBE, BOY?" =Boy.= "WHY 'BOUT TWENTY 'UNDERD THEAUSAN' MILD 'F Y' GOO 'S Y'ARE AGOOIN' NOW, AN' 'BOUT HALF A MILD 'F YOU TURN RIGHT REAOUND AN' GOO T' OTHER WAY!!" Illustration: _In Jeopardy._ THE NEW BOY WAS ENJOINED TO BE VERY CAREFUL HOW HE CARRIED THE FIDDLE-CASE--"BY THE HANDLE, AND TO MIND NOT TO KNOCK IT AGAINST ANYTHING!" IMAGINE THE HORROR OF MR. PITSEY CARTER, HIS MASTER, WHO WAS FOLLOWING, TO COME UPON THE RASCAL, WITH THE INVALUABLE "JOSEPH" ON HIS HEAD, EXECUTING A PAS-SEUL OVER A SKIPPING-ROPE!! Illustration: Heresy. =Mamma.= "YOU KNOW WHO BUILT THE ARK, GEORGE?" =George= (_promptly_). "NOAH, 'MA." =Mamma.= "AND WHAT DID HE BUILD IT FOR?" =George= (_dubiously_). "FOR LITTLE BOYS TO PLAY WITH, 'MA?!" Illustration: "Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!" =Greengrocer, Jun.= (_to whom our Little Friend in Velvet had applied for a piece of Mistletoe for his own private diversion_). "I'VE GOT YER A BIT, MASTER GEORGE. IT AIN'T A VERY BIG PIECE, BUT THERE'S LOTS O' BERRIES ON IT; _AN' IT'S THE BERRIES AS DOES IT_"!!! Illustration: Culture for the Working Classes. =Philanthropic Employer= (_who has paid his Workpeople's expenses to a neighbouring Fine-Art Exhibition_). "WELL, JOHNSON, WHAT DID YOU THINK OF IT? 'PICK UP AN IDEA OR TWO?" =Foreman.= "WELL, YER SEE, SIR, IT WERE A THIS WAY. WHEN US GOT THERE, WE WAS A CONSIDERIN' WHAT WAS BEST TO BE DONE, SO WE APP'INTED A DEPPERTATION O' THREE ON US TO SEE WHAT IT WERE LIKE; AN' WHEN THEY COME OUT AN' SAID IT WERE ONLY PICTURS AN' SUCH, WE THOUGHT IT A PITY TO SPEND OUR SHILLINS ON 'EM. SO WE WENT TO THE TEA-GARDENS, AND WERY PLEASANT IT WERE, TOO. THANK YER KINDLY, SIR!" Illustration: A Casual Acquaintance. =West-End Man= (_addressing, as he supposes, Intelligent Mechanic_). "CAN YOU DIRECT ME TO THE MOORGATE STREET STATION?" =Seedy Party.= "MO'RGATE STREET STATION, SIR? STRAIGHT ON, SIR, FUST TURNIN' T' THE RIGHT, AND IT'S JUST OPPOSYTE. AND NOW, YOU'VE INTERDOOCED THE SUBJECT, SIR, IF YOU COULD ASSIST ME WITH A TRIFLE, SIR, WHICH I'VE 'AD NOTHIN' TO EAT SINCE LAST FRIDAY----" _West-End Man not having an answer ready, forks out, and exit._ Illustration: "Circumlocutory!" =Polite Coster= (_seeing Smoke issuing from Brown's coat-pocket_). "YOU'LL EXCUSE ME ADDRESSIN' O' YOU, SIR,--COMMON MAN IN A MANNER O' SPEAKIN'--GEN'LEMAN LIKE YOU, SIR--BEGGIN' PARDON FOR TAKIN' THE LIBERTY, WHICH I SHOULD NEVER A' THOUGHT O' DOIN' UNDER ORDINARY SUCCUMSTANCES, SIR, ON'Y YOU DIDN'T SEEM TO BE AWARE ON IT, BUT IT STRUCK ME AS I SEE YOU A GOIN' ALONG, AS YOU WERE A-FIRE, SIR!" _By this time Brown's right coat-tail was entirely consumed. His fuzees had ignited by private arrangement among themselves._ Illustration: _Alarming._ =Buttons= (_as he burst into his Master's room on the night of Wednesday, the 7th: he had just seen that wonderful shooting star_). "OH, PLEASE, SIR, THEM METEORS IS A GOIN' OFF AG'IN!!" =Scientific Old Gent= (_startled out of his first sleep, and misunderstanding the intelligence_). "OH!--EH!--WHAT!--TURN IT OFF AT THE _MAIN_!!" Illustration: _Weights and Measures._ =Valetudinarian= (_in the course of Conversation with intelligent Passenger, whom he takes to be a Dignitary of the Church_). "NOW, WHAT SHOULD YOU THINK WAS MY WEIGHT?" =Gentleman in Black.= "WELL, SIR--LET ME SEE--YOU STAND ABOUT FIVE FEET ELEVEN, THIRTY INCHES ACROSS CHEST, AND WE'LL SAY ELEVEN INCHES DEEP--WELL, I SHOULD SAY, SPEAKING AT RANDOM, YOU WOULD 'LIFT' AT ABOUT ELEVEN STUN' AND THREE QUARTERS!" _Horror of Invalid--his fellow-passenger was an UNDERTAKER!_ Illustration: "_Small Mercies._" =First Jolly Angler= (_with empty Creel_). "WELL, WE'VE HAD A VERY PLEASANT DAY! WHAT A DELIGHTFUL PURSUIT IT IS!" =Second Ditto= (_with ditto_). "GLORIOUS! I SHAN'T FORGET THAT NIBBLE WE HAD JUST AFTER LUNCH, AS LONG AS I LIVE!" =Both.= "AH!!" Illustration: Tyranny. =First Rough.= "WE'RE A GOIN' TO BE EDGICATED NOW, C'MPULSORY, OR ELSE GO TO THE TREADMILL!" =Second Rough.= "AH! NO VUNDER SO MANY POOR PEOPLE'S A EMIGRATIN'!" Illustration: A Perfect Cure. =Town Man.= "HOW JOLLY IT MUST BE, LIVING DOWN HERE IN THE COUNTRY!" =Country Gentleman.= "OH, I DON'T KNOW. IT'S RATHER TORPID SORT OF LIFE; TIME PASSES VERY SLOWLY." =Town Man.= "TIME PASSES SLOWLY? YOU SHOULD GET SOMEBODY TO DRAW ON YOU AT THREE MONTHS!!" Illustration: In Consequence of the Tailors' Strike. GEORGE AND THE GOVERNOR HAVE THEIR CLOTHES MADE AT HOME. =George.= "ARE YOU SURE YOU TOOK MY RIGHT MEASURE, CHARLOTTE?" =Charlotte.= "OH, GEORGE, I'M SURE IT FITS BEAUTIFULLY!!" Illustration: "As Well as Can be Expected." =Horsey Parish Doctor= (_late for the Meet_). "WELL, MOTHER, AND HOW'S YOUR DAUGHTER, AND THE BABBY--POORLY, EH? AH, WELL, GIVE HIM A PINCH O' BRIMSTONE IN HIS PAP, AND I'LL LOOK IN TO-MORROW." Illustration: Penny Wise. =National Schoolmaster= (_going round with Government Inspector_). "WILKINS, HOW DO YOU BRING SHILLINGS INTO PENCE?" =Pupil.= "PLEASE, SIR, 'TAKES IT ROUND TO THE PUBLIC-'OUSE, SIR!!" Illustration: Reminiscences. =Governess.= "SHOW MR. SMITHERS YOUR NEW DOLL, ADA." =Old Rustic.= "AH--LOR'--DEARY ME, MUM, IF IT AIN'T THE VERY MODAL OF MY OLD WOMAN WHEN SHE WAS IN HER PRIME!!" Illustration: "Hoist with His Own 'Pomade'!" =Customer= (_worried into it_). "WELL, I DON'T MIND TAKING A SMALL BOTTLE----" =Barber.= "BETTER 'AVE A TWO SHILLIN' ONE, SIR; IT 'OLDS FOUR TIMES AS MUCH AS THE OTHER----" =Customer= (_turning upon him_). "O, THEN IF I TAKE THIS SHILLING BOTTLE, I SHALL BE DONE OUT OF HALF MY MONEY'S WORTH! THEN I WON'T HAVE ANY!" _Escapes in triumph!_ Illustration: Distracting. =Customer.= "WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE BISHOP'S SERMON ON SUNDAY, MR. WIGSBY?" =Hairdresser.= "WELL, REALLY, SIR, THERE WAS A GENT A-SETTIN' IN FRONT O' ME AS 'AD HIS 'AIR PARTED THAT CROOKED I COULDN'T 'EAR A WORD!" Illustration: A Compliment. =Hairdresser.= "ANY OFF THE BEARD, SIR?" =Customer.= "NO, THANK YOU. I'VE LATELY TRIMMED IT MYSELF." =Hairdresser.= "INDEED, SIR! I SHOULD NOT HAVE THOUGHT ANY GENTLEMAN OUT OF THE PROFESSION COULD HAVE DONE IT SO WELL!!" Illustration: XXX Cellent Reasons. =Free and Independent= (_to wavering_) =Elector=. "YOU DON'T ADMIRE HIS POLITICS? POLITICS BE BLOWED! LOOK AT HIS PRINCIPLES! THAT MAN ALLUS BREWS FIVE-AND-TWENTY BUSHELS TO THE HOGSHEAD!" Illustration: Sympathy. =Giles= (_ruefully_). "VILLIAM, I'VE BEEN AN' GONE AN' 'LISTED!" =William.= "LOR'! 'AVE YER, THOUGH? GOT THE SHILLIN'?" =Giles.= "YES." =William.= "WELL, THEN, LET'S GO AN' 'AVE A GLASS AT THE 'BARLEY-MOW.' DON'T LET'S BE DOWN'EARTED!" Illustration: Liberal to a Fault. =the missus= (_affably_). "MY 'USBAN'S OUT JUST NOW, SIR. CAN I GIVE HIM ANY MESSAGE?" =liberal candidate.= "AH--I HAVE CALLED WITH THE HOPE THAT--AH--HE'D PROMISE ME HIS VOTE AT THE APPROACH----" =the missus.= "OH, YES, SIR. YOU'RE CAP'M BILKE, THE 'YALLOW,' I S'POSE, SIR! YES, I'M SURE HE'LL BE MOST 'APPY, SIR!" =the captain= (_delighted_). "YA-AS--I SHALL BE MUCH OBLIGED TO HIM--AND--AH--HE MAY DEPEND UPON MY----" =the missus.= "YES, I'M SURE HE'D PROMISE YOU IF HE WAS AT HOME, SIR; 'CAUSE WHEN THE TWO 'BLUE' GENTS CALLED AND AS'ED HIM THE OTHER DAY, SIR, HE PROMISED 'EM D'REC'LY, SIR!!" Illustration: Civil Service Miseries. =Mamma= (_who has been Shopping at the Co-Operative_). "GOOD GRACIOUS, DEARS, WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THESE PARCELS?" =Youngest Daughter.= "OH, PA' CAN TAKE THE LARGE ONE, MA', AND HE MIGHT CARRY SOME OF THE SMALL ONES IN HIS POCKETS!!" _Pa', who has been waiting outside, feels he's in for it._ Illustration: "Men were Deceivers Ever." =Swell= (_at the Civil Service Co-Operative Store_). "HAW! I WANT TWO OR THWEE POUNDS--BACON--AND--AW--'BLIGE ME BY DOING IT UP LIKE BOX--GLOVES OR FLOWERS, OR SOMETHING O' THAT SORT!!" Illustration: A Sinister Slip. =Smith.= "HULLO, BROWN! 'BEEN FOR YOUR ANNUAL COLLIS----I MEAN YOUR ANNUAL EXCURSION, YET?" _Brown was highly nervous, and this malign suggestion quite upset him. He spent his holiday at home!_ Illustration: Force of Habit. =City Merchant= (_blissfully dozing in his Country Church_). "SEASON TICKET!!" Illustration: "_Alma Mater._" _Young Puncheonby "cuts" the Army, and goes to Oxford to read for "the Church."_ =Tutor.= "YOU ARE PREPARED IN SUBSCRIBE TO THE THIRTY-NINE ARTICLES----" =Puncheonby= (_with alacrity_). "AH 'TH PLEASH 'AH,--AH--HOW MU-CH--." Illustration: _Embarrassing._ =Nervous Spinster= (_to wary Old Bachelor_). "OH, MR. MARIGOLD, I'M SO FRIGHTENED! MAY I TAKE HOLD OF YOUR HAND WHILE WE'RE GOING THROUGH THIS TUNNEL?" Illustration: A Straightforward View. =High Church Curate.= "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK, MR. SIMPSON, ABOUT A CLERGYMAN'S TURNING TO THE EAST?" =Literal Churchwarden.= "WELL, SIR, MY OPINION IS, THAT IF THE CLERGY MAN IS GOODLOOKIN', HE DON'T WANT TO TURN HIS BACK TO THE CONGREGATION!" Illustration: "The Better the Day." &c. =Rustic= (_to Curate who dabbles in Photography_). "I'D BE TURR'BLE MUCH OBLIGED, ZUR, IF YOU'D MAP OFF MY PICTUR', ZUR!" =Curate.= "WELL, MY MAN, I'LL TAKE YOUR LIKENESS FOR YOU. WHEN WILL YOU COME?" =Rustic.= "WELL, ZUR, IF YOU'VE NO 'BJECTIONS, I BE MOASTLY CLEANED UP AND HAS MOAST TIME O' ZUNDAY MARNINS, ZUR!!" Illustration: A Distinction. =The "Good Parson"= (_to Applicant for Instruction in the Night School_). "HAVE YOU BEEN CONFIRMED, MY BOY?" =Boy= (_hesitating_). "PLEASE, SIR--I--DON'T KNOW----" =Parson.= "YOU UNDERSTAND ME; HAS THE BISHOP LAID HIS HANDS ON YOU?" =Boy.= "OH, NO, SIR; BUT HIS KEEPER HAVE, SIR--VERY OFTEN, SIR!!" Illustration: Considerate. =Churchwarden.= "TELL YE WHAT 'TIS, SIR. THE CONGREGATION DO WISH YOU WOULDN'T PUT THAT 'ERE CURATE UP IN PULPIT--NOBODY CAN'T HEAR UN." =Old Sporting Rector.= "WELL, BLUNT, THE FACT IS, TWEEDLER'S SUCH A GOOD FELLOW FOR PARISH WORK, I'M OBLIGED TO GIVE HIM _A MOUNT_ SOMETIMES." Illustration: Rustic Recollections. =Boy.= "PLEASE, PA-ARSON, MOTHER WANTS SOME SOUP." =The Rector.= "BUT I TOLD YOUR MOTHER SHE MUST SEND SOMETHING TO PUT IT IN." =Boy.= "OH, PLEASE, SHE'VE SENT THIS YEAR PA-AIL VOR 'UN, PA-ARSON!!" Illustration: _Not a "Silver Lining" to a Cloud._ =Adolphus= (_grandly; he is giving his future brother-in-law a little dinner down the river_). "WAITAR, YOU CAN--AH--LEAVE US!" =Old Waiter.= "HEM!--YESSIR--BUT--YOU'LL PARD'N ME, SIR--WE'VE SO MANY GENTS--'DON'T WISH TO IMPUTE NOTHINK, SIR--BUT MASTER--'FACT IS, SIR--(_evidently feels a delicacy about mentioning it_)--WE'RE--YOU SEE, SIR--_'SPONSIBLE FOR THE PLATE, SIR!!!_" Illustration: "_What's in a Name?_" =Waiter= (_to nervous invalid_). "THERE'S THE OLD CHURCH, SIR, CLOSE BY, BUT SOME VISITORS GOES TO ST. WOBBLEOE'S, SIR. THERE THE CLERGYMAN PREACHES _DISTEMPERY_!!" _Clearly not the place for him, the old gentleman thinks, with a shudder._ Illustration: _A New Dish._ =Sympathising Swell= (_waiting for some chicken_). "YOU'VE GOT NO SINECURE THERE, THOMAS!" =Perspiring Footman.= "VERY SORRY, SIR--JUST 'ELPED THE LAST OF IT AWAY, SIR!" Illustration: Our Artist IS NOT IN THE BEST OF TEMPERS. HE HAS BEEN DISTURBED OFTEN BY BARGES, AND BOTHERED BY THE BLUEBOTTLES, AND THEN HE'S ACCOSTED BY WHAT APPEARS TO HIM IN THIS IRRITABLE MOOD TO BE AN =Art-Critic= (_loq._) "THE PICTURE LOOKS BETTER A GOODISH BIT OFF, GOV'NOUR!" =Artist= (_maddened_). "CON--FOUND----SO DO YOU, SIR!" _Party makes off hastily, "not liking the looks of him."_ Illustration: Hunting Idiot, RETURNING FROM THE CHASE, PROPOSES TO "CHAFF THAT ARTIST FELLER." =Huntsman.= "WHAT'LL YER TAKE ME FOR, GOV'NOUR?" =Painter= (_without the slightest hesitation_). A _SNOB_! Illustration: Boxing-Day. (_Mrs. Bustleton's favourite Cabman has called for his usual Christmas-Box in a state of----never mind._) =Mrs. B.= "OH, SAWYER, I'M SURPRISED--I THOUGHT YOU SUCH A STEADY MAN! I'M SORRY TO SEE YOU GIVEN TO DRINK!" =Sawyer.= "BEG Y' PAR'N MUM, NO S'H 'HING MUM (_hic_). DRINK 'ASH GI'N T' ME, MUM, 'SH MORN'N, MUM!!" Illustration: An Old Offender. =Country Gentleman= (_eyeing his Gardener suspiciously_). "DEAR, DEAR MR. JEFFRIES, THIS IS TOO BAD! AFTER WHAT I SAID TO YOU YESTERDAY, I DIDN'T THINK TO FIND YOU----" =Gardener.= "YOU CAN'T SHAY--(_hic_)--I WASH DRUNK YESHT'DAY, SH----!" =Country Gentleman= (_sternly_). "ARE YOU SOBER THIS MORNING, SIR?" =Gardener.= "I'M--SHLIGHTLY SHOBER, SHIR!!" Illustration: Irrevocable. =Customer= (_for the Royal Wedding photograph_). "CAN'T I HAVE THE LADY ONLY? I DON'T SO MUCH WANT THE GENTLEMAN!!" =Young Person= (_with decision_). "NO, SIR; WE CAN'T PART THEM, SIR, _NOW_!" Illustration: Mrs. Jingleton. Learning that Young M Skirlygy (FROM WHOSE FAMILY SHE RECEIVED SUCH POLITENESS WHEN SHE WAS IN THE HIGHLANDS) WAS IN TOWN, AND HAVING HEARD SO MUCH OF HIS PLAYING, ASKS HIM TO ONE OF HER LITTLE PARTIES FOR CLASSICAL MUSIC, AND HOPES HE WILL 'OBLIGE' DURING THE EVENING.--HA! HA! SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HIS INSTRUMENT WAS! Illustration: Arcadian Amenities. =Little Rustic= (_after a "game" struggle, evidently overweighted_). "OH, PLEASE, HELP US ALONG 'ITH THIS LINEN UP TO MOTHER'S----" =Amiable Swell= (_aghast_). "EH! OH, RIDICULOUS--HOW CAN I?--LOOK HERE, I'VE GOT A BAG--HEAVY BAG--TO CARRY MYSELF----" =Little Rustic.= "I'LL CARRY YOUR BAG, SIR." =Swell.= "EH--BUT (_to gain time_) WH--WHAT'S YOUR MOTHER'S ABSURD NAME?" _This did not help him much. There was no escape; and ultimately----but we draw a veil over the humiliating sequel._ Illustration: A Big Fish. =Artful Damsel= (_who has made a successful throw_). "O, LORD FEUBIGGIN, HOWEVER SHALL I MANAGE----." =Lord Feubiggin= (_caught, two_). "PRAY LET ME SHOW YOU! ALL DEPENDS ON HOW YOU PLAY YOUR FISH!" _We betray confidence for once. This Picture comes from a Letter sent by a newly-married Lady (now of title), to a particular Friend of hers, and is called a "Reminiscence of Scotland." Perhaps our Readers can guess at the Story--we cannot._ Illustration: The Pic-Nic. =Playful Widow.= "JUMP ME DOWN, MR. FIGGINS!!" _The gallant little Man did his best, but fell--in her estimation for ever!_ Illustration: Artful--Very! =Mary.= "DON'T KEEP A SCREOUGIN' O' ME, JOHN!" =John.= "WH'OI BEAN'T A SCREOUGIN' ON YER!" =Mary= (_ingenuously_). "WELL, Y' CAN I' Y' LIKE, JOHN!" Illustration: "_The Grey Mare!_" =Mrs. B.= (_taking the reins_). "NO, BROWN, I WILL NOT HAVE THE PONY BACKED! NO! THAT PERSON MUST HAVE SEEN US COME INTO THE LANE FIRST; AND IF THE MAN'S GOT COMMON POLITENESS----" =Mr. B.= "BUT, MY DEAR, WE'VE ONLY JUST TURNED THE----" =Mrs. B.= "I DON'T CARE, BROWN! NO! I WON'T GO BACK, IF I STAY HERE TILL----" =Farmer.= "ALL RIGHT, SIR!--I'LL BACK, SIR. I'VE GOT JUST SUCH ANOTHER _VIXEN_ AT HOME, SIR!" Illustration: _How We Arrange Our Little Dinners._ =Mistress.= "OH, COOK, WE SHALL WANT DINNER FOR FOUR THIS EVENING. WHAT DO YOU THINK, BESIDES THE JOINT, OF OX-TAIL SOUP, LOBSTER PATÉS, AND AN ENTRÉE--SAY, BEEF?" =Cook.= "YES, 'M--FRESH, OR AUSTR----?" =Mistress.= "LET'S SEE! IT'S ONLY THE BROWNS--TINNED WILL DO!" Illustration: _Conclusive._ =Lodger.= "I DETECT RATHER A DISAGREEABLE SMELL IN THE HOUSE, MRS. JONES. ARE YOU SURE THE DRAINS----" =Welsh Landlady.= "OH, IT CAN'T BE THE DRAINS, SIR, WHATEVER. THERE ARE NONE, SIR!!" Illustration: _Our Manoeuvres._ =Captain of Skirmishers= (_rushing in to seize Picket Sentries of the Enemy_). "HULLO! HE-AR! YOU SURRENDER TO THIS COMPANY!" =Opposition Lance-Corporal.= "BEG PARDON, SIR! IT'S THE OTHER WAY, SIR. WE'RE A BRIGADE, SIR!!!" Illustration: "Our Reserves,"--The Battle of Amesbury. =Aide-de-Camp.= "GOOD GRACIOUS, SIR! WHY DON'T YOU ORDER YOUR MEN TO LIE DOWN UNDER THIS HILL? CAN'T YOU SEE THAT BATTERY PLAYING RIGHT ON THEM?" =Colonel of Volunteers.= "SO I DID, SIR. BUT THEY WON'T LIE DOWN. THEY SAY THEY WANT TO SEE THE REVIEW!!" Illustration: A Little Failing. =Nervous Old Lady.= "NOW, CABMAN, YOU'RE SURE YOUR HORSE IS QUIET? WHAT'S HE LAYING BACK HIS EARS LIKE THAT FOR? LOOK!" =Cabby.= "O THAT'S ONLY HER FEMI-NINE CUR'OSITY, MUM. SHE LIKES TO HEAR WHERE SHE'S A GOIN' TO!" Illustration: The Connoisseurs. =Groom.= "WHEW'S BEER DO YOU LIKE BEST--THIS 'ERE HOM'BREWED O' FISK'S, OR THAT THERE ALE THEY GIVES YER AT THE WHITE HO'S?" =Keeper= (_critically_). "WELL, O' THE TEW I PREFERS THIS 'ERE. THAT THERE O' WUM'OOD'S DON'T FARE TO ME TO TASTE O' NAWTHUN AT ALL. NOW THIS 'ERE DEW TASTE O' THE CASK!!" Illustration: "Io Bacche!" =Jeames.= "MORNIN', MR. JARVICE. WHAT'S THE NEWS?" =Mr. J.= (_the old Coachman_). "WELL, I'VE 'EARD THE BEST BIT O' NEWS THIS MORNING AS I'VE 'EARD FOR MANY A DAY, FROM OUR BUTLER. HE TELL ME THE WIN'YARDS IS 'A COMIN' ROUND,' AND THERE'S EVERY PROSPEC' OF OUR GETTIN' SOME MORE GOOD MADEIRY!!" Illustration: A Veteran. =Civil Service Captain.= "WILL--HE--AH--STAND POW-DAR?" =Dealer.= "'POWDER?' WHY HE WAS ALL THROUGH THE BATTLE O' WATERLOO THAT CHARGER WAS!!" Illustration: "What's the Odds?" =Purchaser.= "HE'S RATHER HEAVY ABOUT THE HEAD, ISN'T HE?" =Dealer= (_can't deny it_). "WELL, SIR! (_Happy thought._) BUT Y'SEE, SIR, HE'LL HEV TO CARRY IT HISSELF!" Illustration: _"There's Many a Slip" &c._ WAGGLES SAW A SPLENDID THREE-POUND TROUT FEEDING IN A QUIET PLACE ON THE THAMES ONE EVENING LAST WEEK. DOWN HE COMES THE NEXT NIGHT, MAKING SURE OF HIM! BUT SOME OTHER PEOPLE HAD SEEN HIM TOO!!! Illustration: _Lingua "East Anglia."_ =First Angler= (_to Country Boy_). "I SAY, MY LAD, JUST GO TO MY FRIEND ON THE BRIDGE THERE, AND SAY I SHOULD BE MUCH OBLIGED TO HIM IF HE'D SEND ME SOME BAIT." =Country Boy= (_to Second Angler, in the Eastern Counties language_). "THA' THERE BO' SAHY HE WANT A WURRUM!!" Illustration: _A Luxurious Habit._ =Philanthropist= (_to Railway Porter_). "THEN WHAT TIME DO YOU GET TO BED?" =Porter.= "WELL, I SELDOM WHAT YER MAY CALL GETS TO BED MYSELF, 'CAUSE O' THE NIGHT TRAINS. BUT MY BROTHER, AS USED TO WORK THE P'INTS FURTHER DOWN THE LINE, WENT TO BED LAST CHRISTMAS AFTER THE ACCIDENT, AND NEVER----" _Train rushes in, and the Parties rush off._ Illustration: _The Golden Age Restored._ =Young Lady= (_Through Passenger, at West Riding Station_). "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE TO-DAY, PORTER? HAS THERE BEEN A FÊTE?" =Porter= (_astonished_). "BLESS THEE, LASS! THERE'S NEA FEIGHTIN' NOO-A-DAYS; 'T'S AGIN T' LA-AW!--NOBBUT A FLOOER-SHOW!" Illustration: "No Accounting for Taste." =Materfamilias= (_just arrived at Shrimpville--the Children had been down a Month before_). "WELL, JANE, HAVE YOU FOUND IT DULL?" =Nurse.= "IT WAS AT FUST, M'M. THERE WAS NOTHINK TO IMPROVE THE MIND, M'M, TILL THE NIGGERS COME DOWN!!" Illustration: Sold Cheap. =Little Brown= (_to "Nigger Minstrel," who always addresses his listeners as "My Lord"_). "AH, HOW DID YOU KNOW MY----AH--HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS A LORD?" _Sensation among the bystanders!_ =Minstrel.= "BLESS YER, MY LORD, I NEVER LOSE SIGHT O' MY SCHOOLFELLERS!" _Roars of laughter. Little B. caves in, and bolts!_ Illustration: Selling Him a Pennyworth. =Philanthropist.= "THERE'S A PENNY FOR YOU, MY LAD. WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH IT?" =Sweeper.= "WHAT ALL THIS AT ONCE! I'LL TOSS YER FOR IT, DOUBLE OR QUITS!" Illustration: A Change for the Better. =Greengrocer.= "WANT A PENN'ORTH O' COALS, DO YER? YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO 'AVE A PENN'ORTH MUCH LONGER. THEY'RE A GOING UP. COALS IS COALS NOW, I CAN TELL YER!" =Boy.= "AH, WELL, MOTHER'LL BE GLAD O' THAT, 'CAUSE SHE SAYS THE LAST COALS SHE HAD O' YOU WAS ALL SLATES!!" Illustration: _Colloquial Equivalents._ =Papa.= "NOW, MY DEAR GIRLS, YOUR BROTHER IS RECEIVING A MOST EXPENSIVE EDUCATION, AND I THINK THAT WHILE HE IS AT HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS YOU SHOULD TRY TO LEARN SOMETHING FROM HIM." =Emily.= "SO WE DO, 'PA. WE'VE LEARNT THAT A BOY WHO CRIES IS A 'BLUB,' THAT A BOY WHO WORKS HARD IS A 'SWOT'"---- =Flora.= "YES, AND THAT ANYBODY YOU DON'T LIKE IS A 'CAD;' AND WE KNOW THE MEANING OF 'GRUB,' 'PROG,' AND A 'WAX'" Illustration: "The Meat Supply." =Bathing-Man.= "YES, MUM, HE'S A GOOD OLD 'ORSE YET. AND HE'S BEEN IN THE SALT WATER SO LONG, HE'LL MAKE CAPITAL BILED BEEF WHEN WE'RE DONE WITH HIM!!!" Illustration: "_Tracts._" =First Navvy.= "T' NEW MISSION-ARY GAVE ME THIS 'ERE TRACK JUST NOW, BILL." =Second Navvy.= "AIN'T SEEN HIM. WHAT LOIKE IS HE?" =First Navvy.= "LITTLE CHAP--PREACHES ABOUT EIGHT STUN TEN, I SHOULD GUESS!" Illustration: "_A Ticket of Leave_." =Swell= (_who won't be done_). "H'YARS MY KYARD IF YOU'D--AH--LIKE TO SUMMON ME." =Cabby= (_who has pulled up and heard the dispute_). "DON'T YOU TAKE IT, BILL. IT'S HIS TICKET O' LEAVE!" Illustration: A Pleasant Prospect. =Traveller= (_in Ireland_). "HI,--PULL HER UP, MAN! DON'T YOU SEE THE MARE IS RUNNING AWAY?" =Paddy.= "HOULD TIGHT, YER 'ONOR! FOR YER LIFE DON'T TOUCH THE REINS!--SURE THEY'RE AS ROTTEN AS PEARS! I'LL TURN HER INTO THE RIVER AT THE BRIDGE BELOW HERE. SURE THAT'LL STOP HER, THE BLAGYARD!" Illustration: Reassuring. =Traveller in Ireland= (_rheumatic, and very particular_). "NOW, I HOPE THE SHEETS ARE CLEAN!" =Kathleen= (_the Chambermaid_). "CLANE, SOR? SHURE THEY'RE JUST _DAMP_ FROM THE MANGLE, SOR!!" Illustration: _Woman's Rights._ =Scotch Lady= (_who has taken a House in the Highlands, her Servants suddenly giving "warning"_). "WHAT'S THE REASON OF THIS? HAVE YOU NOT ALL YOU WANT?--GOOD ROOMS, AND GOOD FRESH AIR AND FOOD, AND EASY WORK?" =Spokeswoman.= "YES, MEM--BUT--BUT THERE'S NO A DECENT LAAD WITHIN CRY O' US!" Illustration: "_Canny._" =Sportsman.= "THAT'S A TOUGH OLD FELLOW, JEMMY?" =Keeper.= "AY, SIR, A GRAND BIRD TO SEND TO YOUR FREENS!" Illustration: _Stern Pulpit Critics._ =First Scot.= "FAT SORT O' MINISTER HAE YE GOTTEN, GEORDIE?" =Second Ditto.= "OH, WEEL, HE'S NO MUCKLE WORTH. WE SELDOM GET A GLINT O' HIM. SAX DAYS O' TH' WEEK HE'S ENVEES'BLE, AND ON THE SEVENTH HE'S ENCOMPREHENS'BLE!!" Illustration: The Commissariat. =Squire= (_to new Butler_). "I HAVE THREE OR FOUR CLERGYMEN COMING TO DINE WITH ME TO-MORROW, PRODGERS, AND----" =Mr. Prodgers.= "'IGH OR LOW, SIR?" =Squire.= "WELL--I HARDLY----BUT WHY DO YOU ASK, PRODGERS?" =Mr. Prodgers.= "WELL, YOU SEE, SIR, THE 'IGH' DRINKS MOST WINE, AND THE 'LOW' EATS MOST VITTLES, AND I MUST PERWIDE ACCORDIN!!" Illustration: Duty and Pleasure. =Rural Butler= (_deferentially_). "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK OF OUR COUNTRY QUALITY DOWN HERE, SIR?" =Town Gentleman= (_"in waiting" to Lord Marybone, who was visiting the Squire_). "WELL, 'F COURSE, YOU SEE, SMITHARS, I DON'T MIND WAITIN' ON 'EM,--BUT--'CAN'T SAY I SHOULD CARE TO SIT DOWN WITH 'EM"!!! Illustration: "Business!" =Bath-Chairman.= "I S'POSE THE DUKE OF EDINBORO' AND HIS MISSIS WILL BE BY DIRECTLY?" =Policeman.= "NO, THEY WON'T. THEY AIN'T IN TOWN." =Bath-Chairman.= "AIN'T THEY?--I SAY, IF THAT OLD LADY IN MY CHAIR ASTS YOU, SAY 'YOU DON'T KNOW,' 'CAUSE SHE'S A WAITIN' TO SEE 'EM, AND I'M ENGAGED BY THE HOUR!" Illustration: _Sacrifice._ =Good Templar.= "TUT--T--T--REALLY, SWIZZLE, IT'S DISGRACEFUL TO SEE A MAN IN YOUR POSITION IN THIS STATE, AFTER THE EXPENSE WE'VE INCURRED AND THE EXERTIONS WE'VE USED TO PUT DOWN THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC!" =Swizzle.= "Y' MAY PREASH AS MUSH AS Y' LIKE, GEN'L'M'N, BUR I CAN TELL Y' I'VE MADE MORE PERSH'NAL EFFORSH TO (_hic_) PURROWN LIQUOR THAN ANY OF YE!" Illustration: _Extenuating Circumstances._ =Employer= (_on his way to business on Monday morning_). "AH, SAUNDERS! I'M SORRY TO SEE YOU IN THIS WAY. I THOUGHT YOU'D TURNED OVER A NEW LEAF!" =Saunders= (_repentant_). "SHO I'AD, SHIR, BUT (_hic_) 'TSH ALL ALONG O' THESH 'ERE WA'ER CO'PANIES--I 'SSHURE YOU, SHIR, 'ERE WASHN'T 'DROP O' WA'ER IN OUR SHISHT'RN ALL YESHT'RDAY!!!" Illustration: _A Definition._ =Shoeblack= (_pointing to Unsteady Party by the lamp-post_). "TEA-TOTALLER ON 'THE STRIKE,' SIR!" Illustration: _Mystification._ _Our young Landscape Painter's Preparations are Regarded with Intense Interest by the Village Juveniles, yet evidently expect a Gymnastic Entertainment_--(_he frames an Imaginary Picture with his Hands_). =Omnes.= "HE'S A GOIN' TO SAY HIS PRAYERS FUST!!" Illustration: _Obliging._ =Excursionist= (_to himself_). "ULLO! 'ERE'S ONE O' THEM ARTISTS. 'DESSAY 'E'LL WANT A GENTEEL FIGGER FOR 'IS FOREGROUND. I'LL _STAND FOR 'IM_!!!" Illustration: Our Theatricals. =Brown= (_rehearsing his part as the "Vicomte de Cherisac"_). "YAS, MARIE! I'VE FONDLY LOVED YE. (_Sobs dramatically._) 'TIS WELL--BUT NO MAT-TAR-R!" =Housemaid= (_to Cook, outside the Door_). "LAUKS, 'LIZ'BETH, AIN'T MASTER A GIVIN' IT TO MISSIS!" Illustration: Flattering. =Housemaid= (_to Cook, behind the laurels_). "HE'S A HAFFABLE YOUNG MAN, THAT CAP'AIN LIMBER, MISSUS'S BROTHER. HOW BECOMIN' HE'D LOOK IN OUR LIVERY, WOULDN'T HE?!!" Illustration: _Comparisons._ =Barber.= "'AIR'S EXTR'ORDINARY DRY, SIR. (_Customer explains he has been in the Country, and out o' doors a good deal._) AH! JUS' SO, SIR. RUINATION TO THE 'AIR, SIR! IF I WAS TO BE KNOCKIN' ABOUT 'UNTING AND FISHIN', LOR', SIR, MY 'AIR WOULDN'T BE IN NO BETTER STATE THAN YOURS, SIR!!" Illustration: _Delicately Put._ =Customer.= "I'M AFRAID I'M GETTING A LITTLE BALD!" =Operator.= "WELL, SIR, I THINK, SIR, WHEN YOU ATTEND PUBLIC WUSHIP, IF I WAS YOU, I'D SIT IN THE GALLERY." Illustration: _A Rash Refusal._ =Customer= (_flying from Importunate Tradesman_). "NO, THANK YOU, NOTHING MORE, REALLY! NOT ANOTHER ARTICLE, THANK YOU! GOOD MORNING!" _Escapes--ha! ha! refusing his own Umbrella!!_ Illustration: _A Guilty Conscience._ =Country Parson= (_to hard-drinking Old Pauper_). "WHY, SURELY, MUGGRIDGE, YOU WERE RELIEVED LAST WEEK FROM THE COMMUNION ALMS!" =Muggridge.= "COMMUNION ARMS, SIR! 'S TRUE'S I STAND HERE, NEVER VAS INSIDE THE 'OUSE IN ALL MY LIFE, SIR; NEVER HEERD OF IT, SIR!" Illustration: _Equal to the Situation._ =The Parson.= "WELL, LIZZIE, YOUR MOTHER'S COME OUT OF PRISON, I HEAR. HOW IS SHE NOW?" =Lizzie.= "O, THANKY', SIR, SHE'S EV' SO MUCH BETTER. SHE'VE HAD CAPITAL TIMES IN THERE. FATHER'S OUT O' WORK, AND RATHER POORLY, SO HE GOT TOOK UP LAST NIGHT!!" Illustration: _The Convalescent._ =New Curate= (_tenderly_). "MY GOOD MAN, WHAT INDUCED YOU TO SEND FOR ME?" =Oldest Inhabitant.= "WHAT DOES HE SAY, BETTY?" =Betty.= "'SAYS WHAT THE DEUCE DID YOU SEND FOR HIM, FOR!!" Illustration: Awkward! =Literal Servant Girl= (_to Brown, who was calling for the first time on the Dibsworths_). "PLEASE SIR, YOUR CABMAN SAY HE DON'T HALF LIKE THE LOOK OF THIS HERE HALF-CROWN YOU'VE GIVE HIM!!" Illustration: "Suit Your Talk to Your Company." =Mrs. Clovermead.= "AND, DAN, YOU'LL BRING THE TRAP--(_recollecting herself--her fashionable Cousin, from London, is on a Visit at the Farm_)--WE SHALL WANT THE CARRIAGE TO DRIVE INTO THE TOWN AFTER LUNCHEON, DANIEL." =Daniel.= "YES, MUM--(_hesitating--he had noticed the correction_)--BE I--(_in a loud whisper_)--BE I TO CHANGE MY TROWSE'S, MUM?"!! Illustration: _Silly Suffolk (?) Pastorals. Reciprocity._ =Parson.= "I HAVE MISSED YOU FROM YOUR PEW OF LATE, MR. STUBBINGS----" =Farmer= (_apologetically_). "WELL, SIR, I HEV' BEEN TO MEET'N' LATELY. BUT--Y' SEE, SIR, THE REVEREND MR. SCOWLES O' THE CHAPEL, HE BOUGHT SOME PIGS O' ME, AND I THOUGHT I OUGHT TO GI' 'M A TARN!!" Illustration: Lapsus Linguæ. =Our Athletic Curate= (_who, with the young men of his parish, had been victorious in a great match the day before; please forgive him this once, only_). "HE-AR ENDETH THE FIRST INNINGS!!" Illustration: The Archery Meeting. =Curate= (_to Fair Stranger_). "I PERCEIVE YOU ARE NOT A TOXOPHILITE!" =Fair Stranger= (_promptly_). "OH DEAR NO! 'CHURCH OF ENGLAND,' I ASSURE YOU!" Illustration: _Grandiloquence_ =Captain of Schooner.= "WHAT 'A' YOU GOT THERE, PAT?" =Pat.= (_who has been laying in some Firewood and Potatoes_). "TIMBER AND FRUIT, YER HONOUR!!" Illustration: _Levelling Up._ =Sub.= (_just arrived by rail_). "HOW MUCH TO THE BARRACKS?" =Car-Driver.= "AH, SHURE THIN, CAPTIN, THE MANEST OV 'EM GIVES ME T'REE AND SIXPENCE!" Illustration: Rural Simplicity. "BEEN TO SCHOOL, LITTLE LASSIE?" "AY, SIR." "GOOD GIRL--THERE'S A PENNY FOR YOU." "THANK YOU, SIR. I'LL HAE TO BE STEPPIN'--BUT AWM GAUN TO SKEULL I' THE MORNIN'--WULL YE BE THIS WAY I' THE EFTERNEUN?!" Illustration: _Catechism under Difficulties._ =Free Kirk Elder= (_preparatory to presenting a Tract_). "MY FRIEND, DO YOU KNOW THE CHIEF END OF MAN?" =Piper= (_innocently_). "NA, I DINNA MIND THE CHUNE! CAN YE NO WHUSTLE IT?"!! Illustration: _In Vino Memoria._ =Major Portsoken= (_a pretty constant Guest_). "I SAY, BUCHANAN, THIS ISN'T--(_another sip_)--THE SAME CHAMPAGNE----!" =Scotch Butler.= "NA, THAT'S A' DUNE! THERE WAS THRUTTY DIZZEN; AND YE'VE HAD YERE SHARE O'T, MAJOR!!" Illustration: Mind and Matter. =Augustus= (_poetical_). "LOOK, EDITH! HOW LOVELY ARE THOSE FLEECY CLOUDLETS DAPPLED OVER THE----" =Edith= (_prosaic_). "YES. 'XACTLY LIKE GRAVY WHEN IT'S GETTING COLD. ISN'T IT?"!! Illustration: Perspective! IN CRITICISING AND CORRECTING HIS PRETTY COUSIN'S PERSPECTIVE, OF COURSE FREDERICK'S FACE MUST BE AS NEARLY AS POSSIBLE IN THE SAME PLACE AS HERS!--TABLEAU!--PA (IN THE BACKGROUND) IS EVIDENTLY MAKING UP HIS MIND TO SEE ABOUT THIS! _Note._ FRED _hasn't a rap!_ Illustration: Those Dreadful Boys! =Algernon.= "AND, DEAREST, IF THE DEVOTION OF A LIFE----" (_At this moment his hat is knocked over his eyes by a common Starfish, or Five-fingers (Asterias rubens), thrown, with considerable force and precision, by one of those_ infern----_high-spirited little fellows her younger brothers_, TOMMY _and_ BERTIE!!!) Illustration: Profanation. =Gent.= "I LEFT A LOCK OF HAIR HERE A FEW DAYS AGO TO BE FITTED IN A LOCKET, IS IT--AH--READY?" =Artiste.= "VERY SORRY, SIR, IT HAS BEEN MISLAID. BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE, SIR--WE CAN EASILY GET IT MATCHED, SIR."!! Illustration: "Turn About." =George.= "I SAY, TOM, DO TAKE CARE! YOU NEARLY SHOT MY FATHER THEN!" =Tom.= "'SH! DON'T SAY ANYTHING, THERE'S A GOOD FELLOW! TAKE A SHOT AT MINE!!" Illustration: Making Things Pleasant. =Irishman= (_to English Sportsman_). "IS IT THROUTS? BE JABERS, THE WATTHER'S STIFF WID 'EM!!!" "_Regardless of strict truth, in his love of hyperbole and generous desire to please," as our Friend recorded in his Diary after a blank day._ Illustration: Angling Extraordinary. =Customer= (_in a great hurry_). "A SMALL BOX OF GENTLES, PLEASE. AND LOOK SHARP! I WANT TO CATCH A 'BUS'!!" Illustration: "Happy Thought." =Mistress= (_who had come down to see about the Bass Voice she had heard in the Kitchen--Guardsman discovered!_). "O, YOU DECEITFUL GIRL, TO SAY THERE WAS NOBODY HERE! AND AFTER I'D GIVEN YOU DISTINCTLY TO UNDERSTAND I DIDN'T ALLOW 'FOLLOWERS'; AND HERE, YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HERE A WEEK----" =Cook.= "LAUKS, M'M, IT MUST BE ONE O' THE FOLLERERS AS THE LAST COOK LEFT BE'IND 'ER!!" Illustration: _Romance of the Kitchen._ =Cook= (_from the Area_). "O, 'LIZA, GI' ME MY WINIGRETTE--I'VE 'AD A--OFFER--FROM THE DUSTMAN!!" Illustration: "_Compliments of the Season._" =Comely Housemaid.= "O, MR. JAMES, I'M SO FRIGHTENED IN THE RAILWAY! SUPPOSE THE BILER WAS TO BUST!" =Mr. James.= "THEN, MY DEAR, YOU'D BE A SINGIN' AMONG THE ANGELS IN ABOUT TEN MINUTES!!" Illustration: "Ready!" =Emily.= "WHAT'S CAPITAL PUNISHMENT, MAMMA?" =Master Harry.= "WHY, BEING LOCKED UP IN THE PANTRY! _I_ SHOULD CONSIDER IT SO!" Illustration: Dear, Dear Boy! =George.= "OH! SHOULDN'T I JUST LIKE TO SEE SOMEBODY IN THAT DEN, AUNT!" =Serious Aunt.= "YE-ES. DANIEL, I SUPPOSE, DEAR?" =George.= "OH NO, AUNT; I MEAN 'OLD TWIGSBY,' OUR HEAD-MASTER!!" Illustration: "Brother Brush." =Ship-Painter.= "NICE DRYIN' WEATHER FOR OUR BUSINESS, AIN'T IT, SIR?" =Amateur= (_disconcerted_). "YA-A-S!"---- _Takes a dislike to the place._ Illustration: "The Compliments of the (Sketching) Season." =Papa.= "THERE, HENRY! IF YOU COULD DO LIKE THAT, I'D HAVE YOU _TAUGHT DRAWING_, MY BOY!" Illustration: A Pleasant Prospect. =English Tourist.= "I SAY, LOOK HERE. HOW FAR IS IT TO THIS GLENSTARVIT? THEY TOLD US IT WAS ONLY----" =Native.= "ABOOT FOUR MILES." =Tourist= (_aghast_). "ALL BOG LIKE THIS?" =Native.= "EH--H--THIS IS JUST NAETHIN' TILL'T!!" Illustration: Compliments of the Season. =Squire= (_who interests himself with the Moral and Material Condition of his Peasantry_). "HULLO, WOODRUFF! WHAT AN EYE YOU'VE GOT! HOW DID YOU GET THAT?!" =Labourer.= "O, IT'S NAWTHIN' PARTIC'LAR, SIR. LAST NIGHT--AT THE WHITE 'ART, SIR. BUT--(_in extenuation_)--CHRISHMASH TIME, SIR--ON'Y ONCE A YEAR!" Illustration: Two Sides to a Question. =Squire.= "YOUR NAME SMITH?" =Smith.= "YESSIR." =Squire.= "AH, I UNDERSTAND YOU'RE THE MAN WHO GIVES SO MUCH TROUBLE TO MY KEEPERS!" =Smith.= "AX YER PARDON, SQUIRE, YOUR KEEPERS IS MUCH MORE TROUBLE TO ME!" Illustration: Suspicion! =Stout Visitor= (_on discovering that, during his usual Nap after Luncheon, he has been subjected to a grossly personal Practical Joke_). "IT'S ONE O' THOSE DASHED ARTISTS THAT ARE STAYING AT THE 'LORD NELSON' 'A' DONE THIS, I KNOW!" Illustration: Depression. SCENE--_The Exchange. Industrial Centre._ =First Commercial Man= (_dryly_). "MORNIN'!" =Second ditto= (_coldly_). "MORNIN'!" =First C. M.= (_hopelessly_). "OWT?" =Second ditto= (_mournfully_). "NOWT!" =First C. M.= (_gloomily_). "MORNIN'!" =Second ditto= (_despairingly_). "MORNIN'!" _They part._ Illustration: Reductio ad Absurdum. =Stout Party= (_the first time he went for his Dividends since his Aunt left him that Legacy_). "WHERE DO YOU GO FOR THESE DIVIDEND WARRANTS?" =Bank Beadle.= "WHAT STOCK, SIR?" =Stout Party.= "WELL, THREE PER CENT. SOMETHING "----(_The word stuck in his throat_). =Bank Beadle.= "AH!--(_giving him the Information, and saying the word for him_)--_REDOOCED,_ SIR!!" _Stout Party sighs, and exit._ Illustration: "The More Haste the Less Speed." =Intelligent Peasant= (_who has been overlooking our Artists with much interest_). "YAR MATE'S A STAININ' O' HIS'N A'READY, SIR!" Illustration: The Point of View. =Tomkins= (_he has heard his friend Stodge talk so much about that lovely spot Wobbleswick, whither he was going sketching, that he was induced to accompany him. A day has elapsed, and he is awaking to the horror of his situation!_) "SEEMS TO ME AN INFERN----I CALL IT RATHER A DULL PLACE!" =Stodge.= "DULL, MY DEAR FELLOW! HOW CAN YOU SAY SO? LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL, BREEZY COMMON! AND THE LINES OF THOSE OLD HOUSES ON THE BEACH, BREAKING THE HORIZON, AND THE COLOUR! AND THE JOLLY QUIET OF THE PLACE! NONE O' YOUR BEASTLY BARREL-ORGANS OR GAPING TOURISTS SWARMING ABOUT! I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE IT!!" Illustration: "Lucus a Non" &c. =Visitor.= "HOW LONG HAS YOUR MASTER BEEN AWAY?" =Irish Footman.= "WELL, SORR, IF HE'D COME HOME YISTHERDAY, HE'D A' BEEN GONE A WAKE TO-MORROW; BUT EV HE DOESN'T RETURN THE DAY AFTHER, SHURE HE'LL A' BEEN AWAY A FORTNIGHT NEXT THORSDAY!!" Illustration: Hyperbole. =Saxon Sportsman.= "ANY SNIPE ABOUT HERE, MY MAN?" =Pat.= "SNIPES, IS IT?! FAIX, THEY'RE GINERALLY JOSTLIN' 'ACH OTHER HEREABOUTS!" Illustration: Real Irish Grievance. =Irish Model= (_requested to put on rather a dilapidated costume_). "THE BLISSED SAINTS DIRICT ME INTO THIS COAT, SOR!" Illustration: Our Inspection. =Lieutenant-Colonel.= "HULLO! CONFOUND IT! THERE'S A MAN BLOWING HIS NOSE--AND WITH A POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF, TOO! TUT-T-T-T-T!" Illustration: Hunting Appointments. =Scientific Colonel.= "ARE YOU GOING TO THE 'KRIEGSPIEL' TO-MORROW?" =Cavalry Sub.= (_Hunting Man_). "AUGH! 'THINK NOT, SIR. AUGH! 'MEET THE-ARE, DO THEY? NEVAR HEARD OF THE PLACE! WHERWE ON EARTH IS I--T?"!! Illustration: Encouraging! =Riding-Master= (_to Sub. belonging to one of the new Mounted Batteries_). "WELL, SIR! YOU'RE ALL 'OF A HEAP' ON THE HORSE'S NECK--YOU'VE LOST YOUR SWORD AND YOUR FORAGE-CAP, AND YOU'VE LOST YOUR STIRRUPS--AND----YOU'LL LOSE YOURSELF NEXT!!" Illustration: "It's an Ill Wind" &c. =Sporting Sub.= "I SHOULD LIKE TO HAVE MY LEAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, COLONEL, FOR I'VE JUST HEARD MY FATHER'S HAD A BAD FALL OUT HUNTING." =Colonel.= "DEAR ME! I'M SORRY TO HEAR THAT! I HOPE HE'S NOT HURT!" =Sporting Sub.= "OH, IT ISN'T THAT!--ONLY I WANT TO HAVE HIS HORSE!!" Illustration: Particular! =Adjutant of Volunteers= (_to Recruit_). "WELL, SIR, AND WHAT COMPANY DO YOU WISH TO BE IN?" =Recruit.= "AUGH! I'VE BEEN--AH--USED TO THE CO'PANY OF--AH--GE'TLEMEN, SIR!!!!" Illustration: The Last Word. =Cabby= (_to stately Party, who has given him his legal Fare_). "MAKIN' YER FORTUNE, SIR, NO DOUBT!" =Swell= (_not exactly catching the Remark_). "EH?" =Cabby.= "YOU'RE A LAYIN' BY A GOOD BIT O' MONEY, SIR, I'LL BE BOUND!" =Swell= (_indignantly_). "What d'you mean, Sir?" Cabby. "WHY YOU DON'T SPEND MUCH, SEEMIN'LY!" _Drives off in triumph._ Illustration: A Dilemma. =Cabby.= "ERE'S A GO, P'LICEMAN! WHAT AM I TO DO?--I VOS ORDERED TO TAKE THESE 'ERE GENTS AS 'A BEEN A DININ' YOU SEE, TO THEIR 'SPECTABLE 'OMES, VUN VOS FOR 'ANOVER SQUARE, ANOTHER FOR THE HALBANY, AND THE TOTHERS ELSEVERES----VELL, THEY VOS ALL CAREFULLY SORTED VEN I STARTED, AN' NOW THEY'VE BEEN AN' GONE AN' MIXED THE'RSELVES UP, AN' I DON'T KNOW VICH IS VICH!!" Illustration: Too True! =Mamma.= "MY DEAR CHILD, WHERE DID YOU GET THAT DREADFUL SCRATCH ON YOUR ARM?" =Little Ada.= "OH, 'MA, IT WAS 'LISBETH'S BIG BRASS BROOCH WITH THE GREEN GLASS IN IT, THAT THE TALL SOLDIER GAVE HER!" Illustration: "Once for All." =Mistress.= "BY THE WAY--ANNA--HANNAH--I'M NOT SURE. IS YOUR NAME ANNA, OR HANNAH?" =New Cook= (_tartly_). "WHICH MY NAME IS ANNA, MUM--HAICH, HA, HEN, HEN, HA, HAICH,--'ANNA'"---- =Mistress= (_giving it up in despair_). "AH! THANK YOU." Illustration: Up and Down Stairs. =Young Mistress= (_at the Parlour Door_). "ELIZA, WHAT IS THAT BELL RINGING FOR SO VIOLENTLY?" =Cook= (_below_). "IT'S ON'Y ME, M'UM. I WANT YOU DOWN IN THE KITCHING A MINUTE!!" Illustration: Terms--Cash. =Lady Bountiful.= "HERE, MY GOOD MAN, HERE'S A TICKET FOR THE ORGANISING CHARITABLE RELIEF AND REPRESSING MENDI----" =Professional Beggar= (_with a sneer_). "O, THANKY FOR NOTHINK, MUM, _HOURS IS A READY MONEY BUSINESS_!" Illustration: Gratitude. =Fastidious Vagrant.= "AND THEY AIN'T 'ALF BUTTERED! I COULD 'A DONE AS WELL IF I'D GONE UP THE LANE TO THE 'UNION!'" Illustration: Music of the Future. Sensation Opera. =Manager= (_to his Primo Tenore, triumphantly_). "MY DEAR FELLOW, I'VE BROUGHT YOU THE SCORE OF THE NEW OPERA. WE'VE ARRANGED SUCH A SCENE FOR YOU IN THE THIRD ACT! O' BOARD OF THE PIRATE SCREW, AFTER THE KEELHAULING SCENE, YOU KNOW! HEAVY ROLLING SEA, EH?--YES, AND WE CAN HAVE SOME REAL SPRAY PUMPED ON TO YOU FROM THE FIRE-ENGINE! VOLUMES OF SMOKE FROM THE FUNNEL, CLOSE BEHIND YOUR HEAD--IN FACT, YOU'LL BE ENVELOPED AS YOU RUSH ON TO THE BRIDGE! AND THEN YOU'LL SING THAT LOVELY BARCAROLLE THROUGH THE SPEAKING-TRUMPET! AND MIND YOU HOLD TIGHT, AS THE SHIP BLOWS UP JUST AS YOU COME UPON YOUR HIGH D IN THE LAST BAR!!!" Illustration: Club Law. =Waiter.= "DID YOU RING, SIR?" =Member= (_trying to be calm_). "YES. WILL YOU WAKE THIS GENTLEMAN, AND SAY I SHOULD BE OBLIGED IF HE'D LET ME HAVE THE _SPECTATOR_, IF HE'S NOT READING IT." _Old Wacklethorpe has been asleep, with the Paper firmly clutched, for the last two hours._ Illustration: "'High' Life Below Stairs!" =Master= (_sniffing_). "THERE'S A MOST EXTRAORDINARY SMELL, JAMES. I'VE NOTICED IT SEVERAL----" =Hall Porter.= "I DON'T WONDER AT IT, SIR. I'VE SPOKE ABOUT IT DOWN-STAIRS. THE BUTLER, SIR, YOU SEE IS ''IGH CHURCH,' WHICH HE 'AS FIT UP A HORATORY IN THE PANTRY, AND BURNS HINCENSE. WE COULD STAND THAT; BUT THE COOK IS THE 'LOW CHURCH' PERSUASION, AND SHE BURNS BROWN PAPER TO HOBVIATE THE HINCENSE. IT'S PERFECTLY HAWFUL ON SAINTS' DAYS, SIR!!!" Illustration: Wages and Wives. =Philanthropic Farmer.= "WELL, TOMKINS, AFTER THIS WEEK, INSTEAD OF PAYING YOU PARTLY IN CIDER, I SHALL GIVE YOU TWO SHILLINGS EXTRA WAGES." =Tomkins.= "NO, THANKY', MASTER; THAT WON'T DO FOR ME!" =Farmer.= "WHY, MAN, YOU'LL BE THE GAINER; FOR THE CIDER YOU HAD WASN'T WORTH TWO SHILLINGS!" =Tomkins. ="AH, BUT YOU SEE I DRINKS THE CIDER MYSELF; BUT THE OW'D OOMAN 'LL 'EV THE TWO SHILLUN'!!" Illustration: Pursuit o' Knowledge! =First Agricultural= (_quite a Year after our Branch had been Opened_). "WHAT BE THEY POST-ES VUR, MAS'R SAM'L?" =Second Ditto= (_Wag of the Village_). "WHY, TO CARRY THE TELEGRAFT WOIRES, GEARGE!" =First Ditto.= "WHAT BE THE WOIRES VUR, THEN?" =Second Ditto.= "WHAT BE THE WOIRES FUR? WHY, TO HOOLD UP THE POST-ES, SART'N'Y, GEARGE."!!! Illustration: A Nice Prospect! =Traveller= (_benighted in the Black Country_). "NOT A BEDROOM DISENGAGED! TUT-T-T-T!" =Landlady= (_who is evidently in the Coal Business as well_). "OH, WE'LL ACCOMMODATE YOU SOMEHOW, SIR, IF ME AND MY 'USBAND GIVES YOU UP OUR OWN BED, SIR!" Illustration: Boon Companions! =Bargee.= "WHAT! GE-ARGE!" _Rustic grins in response._ =Bargee.= "I'M ALLUS MAIN GLAD TO SEE THEE, GE-ARGE!" =Rustic.= "WHOY?" =Bargee.= "'CAUSE I KNOW THERE MUST BE A PUBLIC-'OUSE CLOSE BY!" Illustration: Bereaved. =First Pitman.= "THOU HESSENT BEEN AT THE TOUN LATELY, GEORDIE. HOO'S THAT, MAN?" =Second Pitman.= "THOU KNAWS THE DOG'S DEED, AND AW KENNET GETTEN ANOTHER; AN' A CHAP LECKS SA FOND WITOUT A DOG!" Illustration: Geology. =Scientific Pedestrian.= "DO YOU FIND ANY FOSSILS HERE?" =Excavator.= "DUNNO WHAT YUH CALLS 'VOSSULS.' WE FINDS NOWT HERE BUT MUCK AND 'ARD WORK!" Illustration: The Morning Concert. =Swell= (_doesn't care for music himself_). "MY DEAR, IS THIS--AH--(_yawns_)--TE-DIUM OVAR?"!! Illustration: A Cool Card. =Swell= (_handing "Sporting Life" to Clerical Party_). "AW--WOULD YOU--AW--DO ME THE FAVOUR TO WEAD THE LIST OF THE WACES TO ME WHILE WE'RE WUNNING DOWN?--I'VE--AW--FORGOTTEN MY EYEGLASS. DON'T MIND WAISING YOUR VOICE--I'M PWECIOUS DEAF!" Illustration: "Relapse." =Squire.= "WHY, PAT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STANDING BY THE WALL OF THE PUBLIC-HOUSE? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A TEETOTALLER!" =Pat.= "YES, YER HONNOR. I'M JUST LISTENIN' TO THEM IMPENITENT BOYS DRINKING INSIDE!" Illustration: "_In Confidence._" =Hungry Customer.= "'TAINT BAD." =Chef.= "GLAD YOU LIKE IT; FOR, TO TELL YER THE TRUTH, A'THOUGH I'VE BEEN A MAKIN' O' THIS SOUP FOR FIFTEEN YEAR, I AIN'T NEVER TASTED IT MYSELF!!" Illustration: "_The Struggle for Existence._" =Darwinian Coster= (_to thrifty Housewife_). "WELL, FISH IS DEAR, MUM; YOU SEE IT'S A-GETTIN' WERY SCA'CE IN CONSEKENCE O' THESE 'ERE AQUERIUNS!" Illustration: _A Satisfactory Character._ Mrs. Brisket (_about the Squire's new Bride_). "OH, YES, MUM, SHE COME IN 'ERE YESTERDAY, MUM. BLESS YER! A PUFFECT LADY. MUM! DON'T KNOW ONE J'INT O' MEAT FROM ANOTHER, MUM!!" Illustration: _Hard Up on a Wet Day._ =Richard.= "WHAT ARE YOU RINGING FOR, BOB?" =Robert.= "THE BEEF!" =Richard.= "YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO EAT BEEF AGAIN, BOB, ARE YOU? WHY IT ISN'T HALF-AN-HOUR SINCE BREAKFAST!" =Robert.= "WELL, I'M NOT EXACTLY HUNGRY, BUT ONE MUST DO SOMETHING!" Illustration: _Incombinable Elements._ =First Medical Student.= "WHAT ARE YOU SIGHING FOR, JACK?" Second Ditto. "UGH! I WAS THINKING OF THAT INFERNAL CHEMISTRY CRAM TO-MORROW, AND WHAT A DEUCED PRETTY GIRL I SAW IN GOWER STREET JUST NOW!!" Illustration: A Desperate Case! =First Driver.= "HOW'S POOR BOB?" =Second Driver.= "OH, HE'S A GOOD DEAL BETTER--TAKES HIS _LOTIONS_ MORE REG'LAR----" =First Driver= (_reassured_). "AH!" Illustration: "Bon Voyage!" =Bus-Conductor= (_to Portly Female, who was indignant at having been carried a little beyond her destination_). "WELL, THERE Y'ARE, MUM, FUST TO YER LEFT. Y'AINT GOT SO VERY FAR TO GO, AND THE _WIND'S AT YER BACK_!!" Illustration: _Personal!_ =Driver= (_impatient_). "NOW THEN, BILL!" =Conductor.= "O, LOOK ALIVE, PLEASE, M'M! (_To the Driver._) CAN'T HELP IT! ALL IN THE 'ANTIQUE' LINE THIS MORNIN'! 'ERE'S THREE MORE ON 'EM!" _"'Antique,' indeed! Odious Wretch!" thought one of the parties alluded to._ Illustration: "_The Conscience Clause_" =Rector's Wife.= "AND WHAT'S YOUR FATHER, MY BOY?" =Boy.= "MY FATHER'S A 'HAGITATOR,' AN' HE SAYS HE WON'T HAVE ME LEARNT NO CATECHISM, 'R ELSE YOU'LL ALL OF YER EAR OV IT!" Illustration: _Education._ =Squire.= "HOBSON, THEY TELL ME YOU'VE TAKEN YOUR BOY AWAY FROM THE NATIONAL SCHOOL. WHAT'S THAT FOR?" =Villager.= "'CAUSE THE MASTER AIN'T FIT TO TEACH UN!" =Squire.= "O, I'VE HEARD HE'S A VERY GOOD MASTER." =Villager.= "WELL, ALL I KNOWS IS, HE WANTED TO TEACH MY BOY TO SPELL 'TATERS' WITH A 'P'!!!" Illustration: "Exempli Gratia." =Ancient Mariner= (_to credulous Yachtsman_). "A'MIRAL LORD NELSON! BLESS YER, I KNOWED HIM; SERVED UNDER HIM. MANY'S THE TIME I'VE AS'ED HIM FOR A BIT O' 'BACCO, AS I MIGHT BE A ASTIN' O' YOU; AND SAYS HE, 'WELL, I 'AIN'T GOT NO 'BACCO,' JEST AS YOU MIGHT SAY TO ME; 'BUT HERE'S A SHILLIN' FOR YER,' SAYS HE"!! Illustration: Dignity. =Shipping Clerk.= "ARE YOU THE MATE O' THE '_MAGGIE LAUDER_,' OF STONEHAVEN?" =Mate= (_sternly_). "ASK IF I'M THE FIR-R-R-ST OFFICER, YOUNG MAN, AN' MAYBE I'LL GIE YE AN ANSWER!" Illustration: _A Woman-Hater._ =Spiteful Old Party= (_who is tarring the Stays of the Flagstaff_). "STRIPED GOWNDS SEEM ALL THE 'GO' WITH 'EM, EH? (_Chuckles._) I'LL STRIPE 'EM! PUT A EXTRA STREAK O' ILE IN, O' PURPOSE--WON'T DRY FOR A MONTH! COME LOLLOPIN' ABOUT HERE WITH THEIR CRIN'LYNES AN' TR'INES, THEY MUST TAKE THE CONSEKENSES!!" Illustration: _When You are About it._ =Magister Familias= (_parting with his Butler_). "HERE IS THE LETTER, FLANAGAN. I CAN CONSCIENTIOUSLY SAY YOU ARE HONEST AND ATTENTIVE, BUT I SHOULD HAVE TO STRETCH A POINT IF I WERE TO SAY YOU ARE SOBER." =Mr. Flanagan.= "THANK YOU, SOR. BUT WHEN YOU _ARE_ AFTHER STHRITCHIN' A POINT, SOR, WOULDN'T YOU, PLASE, STHRITCH IT A LITTLE FURTHER, AND SAY I'M _AFTEN_ SOBER!!" Illustration: _Sympathy._ =Epicurus.= "PAH! O, GOOD GRACIOUS, MIVINS, THAT LAST OYSTER WAS--UGH!" =Butler= (_with feeling_). "T-T-T-T--DEAR ME! CORKED, SIR?!!" Illustration: _The Run of the House._ =First Flunkey.= "WON'T YOU COME IN, JOHN, AND TAKE SOMETHING?" =Second Ditto.= "THANKS, NO; I'LL LOOK YOU UP NEXT WEEK. 'BE ON BOARD-WAGES THEN, YOU KNOW!" Illustration: "_What Next?_" =Mistress= (_to New Housemaid_). "JANE, I'M QUITE SURPRISED TO HEAR YOU CAN'T READ OR WRITE! I'M SURE ONE OF MY DAUGHTERS WOULD GLADLY UNDERTAKE TO TEACH YOU----" =Maid.= "O, LOR', MUM, IF THE YOUNG LADIES WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO LEARN ME ANYTHING, I SHOULD SO LIKE TO PLAY THE PIANNER."!! Illustration: "_The Servants._" =Cook.= "YES, SUSAN, I'M A WRITIN' TO MARY HANN MIGGS. SHE'VE APPLIED TO ME FOR THE CHARICTER OF MY LAST MISSUS, WHICH SHE'S THINKIN' OF TAKIN' THE SITIWATION----" =Susan.= "WILL YOU GIVE HER ONE?" =Cook.= "WELL, I'VE SAID THIS. (_Reads._) 'MRS. PERKSITS PRESENTS HER COMPLIMINKS TO MISS MIGGS, AND BEGS TO INFORM HER THAT I CONSIDER MRS. BROWN A RESPEK'ABLE YOUNG PERSON, AND ONE AS KNOWS HER DOOTIES; BUT SHE CAN'T CONSHESALY RECOMMEND HER TEMPER, WHICH I HAD TO PART WITH HER ON THAT ACCOUNT.' IT'S ALLUS BEST TO BE CANDIED, YOU KNOW, SUSAN!" Illustration: _Quite Superfluous._ =Stout Passenger= (_obstreperously_). "HOY! HOY! HOY!!" =Bus-Driver.= "ALL RIGHT, SIR, WE CAN SEE YER, SIR; WE CAN SEE YER VITH THE NAKED EYE, SIR!" Illustration: "_Noblesse Oblige._" =Stodge= (_in answer to the reproachful look of his Cabman_). "WELL, IT'S YOUR RIGHT FARE; YOU KNOW THAT AS WELL AS I DO!" =Cabby.= "OH! WHICH I'M WELL AWARE O' THAT, SIR! BUT----("_more in sorrow than in anger_")--AN' YOU A ARTIS', SIR!!" _Gets another Shilling!_ Illustration: _The Beard Movement._ =Policeman= (_invidiously_). "IT'S PUFFECTLY HOPTIONAL VITH US, YOU KNOW!" (_"The Hairs them P'licemen give theirselves," John remarked afterwards, in the Servants' Hall._) Illustration: _Too Late._ =Departing Guest.= "BUT MY HAT WAS A BRAN-NEW ONE!" =Greengrocer= (_Footman for the nonce_). "OH, SIR! THE SECOND-BEST 'ATS A' BEEN GONE 'ALF-AN-HOUR AGO, SIR!" Illustration: _Music in the Midlands._ =Intelligent Youth of Country Town.= "AH SAY, BILL, ULL THAT BE T' ELIJAH GOIN' OOP I' THAT BIG BOX?!" Illustration: _A Perfect Excuse._ =Rector= (_to his Keeper_). "'MORNING, WOODGATE. DIDN'T I SEE YOU AT CHURCH YESTERDAY?" =Keeper= (_apologetically_). "YES, SIR. BUT--I FELT I WAS A DOIN' WRONG ALL THE TIME, SIR!" Illustration: "_Fahrenheit._" =Rector.= "AH, WE SHALL BE COMFORTABLE THIS MORNING, GRUFFLES, I SEE YOU'VE GOT THE TEMPERATURE UP NICELY. SIXTY, I DECLARE!" =Clerk.= "YES, SIR, I ALLUS HEV A TROUBLE TO GET THAT THING UP. I TOOK AND WARMED IT JEST THIS MINUTE!" Illustration: _Pleasuring!_ =Vicar= (_to Old Lady, who is returning from a Funeral_). "WELL, MARTHA, I'M AFRAID YOU'VE HAD A SAD AFTERNOON. IT HAS BEEN A LONG WALK, TOO, FOR YOU----" =Martha.= "SURE-LY, 'TIS, SIR! AH, SIR, 'TAIN'T MUCH PLEASURE NOW FOR ME TO GO TO FUNERALS; I BE TOO OLD AND FULL O' RHEUMATIZ. IT WAS VERY DIFFERENT WHEN WE WAS YOUNG--THAT 'TWER!!" Illustration: _Awkward!_ FLITHERS SPENDS HIS CHRISTMAS AT A COUNTRY HOUSE, AND THE FIRST DAY, ON THE LADIES LEAVING THE TABLE AFTER DINNER, HE JUMPS UP, AND OPENS THE _WRONG DOOR_!! Illustration: _He Thought He was Safe_ =Irascible Old Gentleman.= "BUY A COMB! WHAT THE DEVIL SHOULD I BUY A COMB FOR! YOU DON'T SEE ANY HAIR ON MY HEAD, DO YOU?" =Unlicensed Hawker.= "LOR' BLESS YER, SIR!--YER DON'T WANT NO 'AIR ON YER 'EAD FOR A TOOTH-COMB!!" Illustration: _Hygiene._ =Hearty Old Gentleman= (_to dyspeptic Friend_). "DOESN'T AGREE WITH YOU?! OH, I NEVER LET ANYTHING OF THAT SORT BOTHER ME! I ALWAYS EAT WHAT I LIKE, AND DRINK WHAT I LIKE, AND FINISH OFF WITH A GOOD STIFF GLASS O' GROG AT BED-TIME, AND GO FAST ASLEEP, _AN' LET 'M FIGHT 'T OUT 'MONG 'MSELVES_!!!" Illustration: _Considerate Criticism._ =Rustic= (_to his friend_). "WA--AT, THA'S BETTER THAN DOIN' O' NAWTH'N'. I S'POOS', GEARGE!!" Illustration: "_The Finishing Touch!_" =Farmer= (_who has been most Obliging, and taken great Interest in the Picture_). "GOOD MORN'N', SIR! BUT--(_aghast_)--I SAY, WHAT ARE YOU A DOIN' OF, MISTER?! A P'INTIN' ALL THEM BEASTLY POPPIES IN MY CORN!--'A BIT O' COLOUR?'--WHAT 'OULD MY LANDLORD SAY, D' YOU THINK?--AND AFTER I'D PUT OFF CUTTIN' CAUSE YOU HADN'T FINISHED, TO OBLIGE YER, I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D A DONE IT! YOU DON'T COME A P'INTIN' ON MY LAND ANY MORE!" _Exit, in great dudgeon._ Illustration: _À Fortiori._ =Ticket Collector.= "NOW, THEN, MAKE HASTE! WHERE'S YOUR TICKET?" =Bandsman= (_refreshed_). "AU'VE LOST IT!" =Ticket Collector.= "NONSENSE! FEEL IN YOUR POCKETS. YE CANNOT HEV LOST IT!" =Bandsman.= "AW CANNOT?! WHY, MAN, AU'VE LOST THE _BIG DRUM_!" Illustration: "_Nae That Fou!_" =Country Gentlemen= (_who thought he'd got such a treasure of a new Gardener_). "TUT, TUT, TUT! BLESS MY SOUL, SAUNDERS! HOW--WHAT'S ALL THIS? DISGRACEFULLY INTOXICATED AT THIS HOUR OF THE MORNING! AIN'T YOU ASHAMED OF YOURSELF?!" =Saunders.= "'SH-HAMED? (_Hic._) NA, NA, 'M NAE SAE DRUNK AS THAT COMES T'! AH KEN VARRA WEEL WHAT A'M ABOOT!!" Illustration: Hibernian Veracity. =Paterfamilias= (_with his Family in Ireland_). "HAVE YOU ANY WEST INDIA PICKLES, WAITER?" =Paddy.= "WE'VE NOT, SOR." =Paterfamilias.= "NO HOT PICKLES OF ANY DESCRIPTION?" =Paddy.= "NO; SHURE THEY'RE ALL COULD, SOR." Illustration: Quite Another Thing. =Paddy= (_the loser_). "ABRAM, G'ALONG! I SAID I'D LAY YOU FOIVE TO WAN, BUT I WASN'T GOIN' TO BET MY HA'F-CROWN AGIN YOUR TATH'RIN LITTLE SIXPENCE!" _Exeunt fighting._ Illustration: A Fair Offer. =Athletic Barman.= "NOW, IF YOU DON'T TAKE YOURSELF OFF, I'LL PRECIOUS SOON TURN YOU OUT!" =Pat= (_with a yell_). "TUR-R-RN ME OUT? IS IT TUR-R-RN ME OUT? THIN, BEDAD! COME OUTSIDE, AN' TUR-R-RN ME OUT!!" Illustration: "The Way We Live Now." =Swell Coachman= (_with his eye on the Brougham's cockade_). "YOUR GUV'NER IN THE ARMY?" =Brougham= (_artlessly_). "NOT 'ZACTLY IN THE HARMY. BUT MISSIS SAY AS THEY SOLD MILINGTARY CUR'OSITIES WHEN THEY KEP' A SHOP IN 'OLBORN!!" Illustration: Re-Assuring. =Nervous Old Lady= (_Band in the Distance_). "OH, THERE ARE THOSE DREADFUL VOLUNTEERS, JOSEPH! I KNOW THE HORSE WILL TAKE FRIGHT! HADN'T YOU BETTER TURN HIM ROUND?!" =Coachman= (_who will have his own way_). "OH, LET 'IM ALONE, 'M; HE'LL TURN 'ISSELF ROUND, AND PRETTY QUICK, TOO, IF HE'S FRIGHTENED!!" Illustration: Well Meant. =Shoeblack= (_to daily Customer_). "SUCH A TREAT WE'VE GOT TO-NIGHT, SIR! TEA AN' BUNS, AN' SPEECHES AT EXETER 'ALL! WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO GO, SIR?" =City Magnate.= "OH, THEY WOULDN'T LET ME IN, MY BOY." =Shoeblack.= "UM!" (_Ponders._) "WELL--LOOK 'ERE. I THINK I COULD SMUG YER IN AS MY _FATHER_!!" Illustration: Nature and Art. =Pedestrian.= "THAT'S AN EXTRAORDINARY LOOKING DOG, MY BOY. WHAT DO YOU CALL HIM?" =Boy.= "FUST OF ALL HE WER' A GREY'OUND, SIR, AN' 'IS NAME WAS 'FLY,' AS' THEN THEY CUT 'IS EARS AN' TAIL OFF, AN' MADE A MASTI' DOG ON 'IM, AN' NOW 'IS NAME'S 'LION'!" Illustration: Natural Advantages. =Teacher.= "WHAT BIRD DID NOAH SEND OUT OF THE ARK?" =Smallest Boy In the Class= (_after a Pause_). "A DOVE, SIR." =Teacher.= "VERY WELL. BUT I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT SOME OF YOU BIG BOYS WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT!" =Tall Pupil.= "PLEASE, SIR, THAT BOY OUGHT TO KNOW, SIR, 'CAUSE HIS FATHER'S A BIRD-KETCHER, SIR!!!" Illustration: The Restraints of Society. =Juvenile Bohemian.= "HATE GOIN' OUT TO TEA! 'HAVE TO BE GOOD SUCH A PRECIOUS LONG TIME!!" Illustration: Simple Addition. =New Governess.= "WHY ARE YOU STARING SO INTENTLY, BLANCHE, DEAR?" =Blanche.= "I WAS TRYING TO COUNT THE FRECKLES ON YOUR FACE, MISS SANDYPOLE, BUT I CAN'T!" Illustration: Secrets. =Intelligent Housemaid.= "OH, PLEASE, MISS, THERE WAS A YOUNG GENTLEMAN CALLED WHEN YOU WAS OUT. HE DIDN'T LEAVE NO CARD, MISS; BUT I CAN SHOW YOU WHO HE IS, 'CAUSE THERE'S THREE OF HIS PHOTYGRAPHS IN YOUR ALBUM." Illustration: "A Parthian Shaft." =Cook.= "NOW, I'M A LEAVIN' OF YER, M'UM, I MAY AS WELL TELL YER AS THE KEY O' THE KITCHING-DOOR FITS YOUR STORE-ROOM!" Illustration: Sweet Simplicity. =Visitor.= "JANE, HAS YOUR MISTRESS GOT A BOOT-JACK?" =Maid-of-all-Work.= "NO, SIR; PLEASE, SIR, I CLEAN ALL THE BOOTS, SIR!" Illustration: Master of the Situation?! SCENE--_Mr. Tethershort's Sanctum._ ENTER _Mrs. T. and her Cook._ =Cook= (_with her usual promptitude--SHE never kept anybody waiting_). "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, I WISH TO COMPLAIN OF MISSIS! WHICH SHE COME A DICTATERIN' AND A HINTERFERIN' IN YOUR KITCHING IN A WAY AS I'M SURE YOU WOULDN'T APPROVE ON," &C., &C., &C.!! _T. confesses he felt (for the first and last time) a delicious sensation of being apparently master in his own house. She was an admirable Cook, and altogether a most excell---- BUT HOWEVER SHE HAD TO GO_! Illustration: Manners! =Young Mistress.= "JANE, I'M SURPRISED THAT NONE OF YOU STOOD UP WHEN I WENT INTO THE KITCHEN JUST NOW!" =Jane.= "INDEED, MUM! WHICH WE WAS SU'PRISED OURSELVES AT YOUR A COMIN' INTO THE KITCHING WHILE WE WAS A 'AVIN' OUR _LUNCHEONS_!!" Illustration: A Regular Turk! =Adjutant.= "WELL, SERGEANT, HOW'S YOUR PRISONER GETTING ON?" =Sergeant of the Guard.= "BEDAD, SOR, HE'S THE VI'LENTEST BLAGGYARD I IVER HAD TO DO WID! WE'RE ALL IN TIRROR IV OUR LOIVES! SHURE WE'RE OBLIGED TO FEED HIM WID FIXED BAY'NITS!" Illustration: "Incidit in Scyllam," &c. =Ensign Muffles= (_alluding to his Moustache_). "YOU SEE, SOME SAY, 'WEAR IT,' YOU KNOW; AND SOME SAY, 'CUT IT OFF,' YOU KNOW; BUT IF I TOOK EVERYBODY'S ADVICE I SHOULD BE LIKE THE OLD MAN AND HIS DONKEY." =Sergeant O'Rourke.= "YOUR'R HON'RR WOULD--(BUT NOT WISHING TO BE PERSONAL ABOUT HIS OFFICER'S AGE) THAT IS--LASTE-WAYS,--BARRIN THE OULD MAN, YOUR HON-R-R-R!!!" Illustration: What H. M. Civil Servants have to Endure. (BESIDES THE RIDICULOUSLY LOW SALARIES.) =Mr. Registrar.= "WHAT'S THE NUMBER OF YOUR DEED, SIR?" =Attorney's Clerk.= "H-eight, H-ought H-eight, H-ought, Sevin, Sir!" =Mr. Registrar= (_faintly_). "OH DEAR! OH DEAR!--(NOTES DOWN THE NUMBER)--THAT WILL DO." _And is so upset that he takes a month's holiday on the spot._ Illustration: Curious. =English Tourist= (_in Ireland_). "TELL ME, WAITER, AT WHAT HOUR DOES THE FIRST TRAIN LEAVE FOR CLONMEL?" =Waiter.= "IS IT THE FURRST THRAIN, SOR? I'M NOT RIGHTLY SHURE. THE NOINE THRAIN UP USED TO LAVE AT HA'F-PAST NOINE--BUT FAIX IT GOES AT TIN NOW, AND THERE'S NO FURRST THRAIN NOW AT ALL AT ALL. BUT I'LL AX AT THE BAR, SORR!!" Illustration: Anything for a Change. =Artist= (_to Old Fellow-Student_). "AND WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL THESE YEARS,--WHAT ARE YOU PAINTING?" =Swell.= "OH, I GAVE UP PAINTING, MY DEAR FELLOW--THEN I TOOK TO TEACHING! BUT YOU CAN'T FIND PUPILS IN GENIUS, YOU KNOW, SO NOW I GO IN FOR ART CRITICISM! I KNOW I'M STRONG IN THAT! DID YOU SEE MY ARTICLE IN THIS WEEK'S 'NOW A DAYS?'" Illustration: Appearances. =Plushington.= "I SAY, STODGE, SINGULAR THING--YOUR LANDLADY ADDRESSED ME 'MY LORD' WHEN I ASKED IF YOU WERE WITHIN!" =Artist.= "NOT AT ALL, MY DEAR FELLOW. IT'S YOUR HAT AND PERSONAL APPEARANCE! IF YOU DON'T MIND, WE'LL ENCOURAGE THE IDEA. IT WILL GIVE HER CONFIDENCE IN ME, AND----EH?" _Plushington will be delighted._ Illustration: From One Point of View. SCENE--_British Jury Room. All agreed on their Verdict except_---- =Irish Juryman= (_who holds out_). "AH, THIN, ILIV'N MORE OBSTINIT' MEN I NIVIR MET IN ALL ME LOIFE!!" Illustration: Our Art-School Conversazione AT WHICH (IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE INCREASED SPACE ANTICIPATED AT THE R. A. EXHIBITION) THERE IS A GREATER CROWD THAN USUAL. =Model= (_who has charge of the Hats and Coats_). "NO. 97? YESSIR. THERE NOW! IF I DIDN'T SEE THAT 'AT--AH--NOT A QUARTER OF AN HOUR AGO!!" _Not a very satisfactory look-out for Bouncefield, who has barely time to catch his last train!_ Illustration: Between Two Shoeblacks We Fall to, &c. =First Shoeblack.= "I COTCHED 'OLD ON 'IM FUST!" =Second Ditto.= "YOU'RE A ----!" _Old Gentleman is flung heavily._ Illustration: Im-pertinent. =Stout Gent.= (_naturally suspicious of the Street Boy_). "GE' OUT O' MY WAY, YOU YOUNG RASCAL!" =Street Boy.= "VICH VAY ROUND, GOV'NOUR?" Illustration: Register! Register!! =Aunt Sophy.= "NOW SUPPOSE, GEORGE, AS A SINGLE WOMAN I SHOULD HAVE MY NAME PUT ON THE REGISTER, WHAT SHOULD I GET BY IT?" =Pet Nephew.= "OH, A GOOD DEAL. YOU'D BE ALLOWED TO SERVE ON CORONER JURIES, COMMON JURIES, ANNOYANCE JURIES, PAY POWDER TAX AND ARMORIAL BEARINGS, ACT AS PARISH BEADLE AND NIGHT CONSTABLE OF THE CASUAL WARD, AND INSPECTOR OF NUISANCES, REPORT ON FEVER DISTRICTS, AND ALL JOLLY THINGS OF THAT SORT." Illustration: "Not Proven." =Presbyterian Minister.= "DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S WICKED TO CATCH FISH ON THE SAWBATH!?" =Small Boy= (_not having had a rise all the Morning_). "WHA'S CATCHIN' FESH?!" Illustration: An Evening's Fishing (Behind the Distillery at Sligo). =First Factory Lad.= "DOM'NICK, DID YOU GET E'ER A BITE AT ALL?" =Second Ditto.= "SORRA WAN, PAT. ONLY WAN SMALL WAN!" =First Ditto.= "YERRAD! LAVE IT THERE, AN' COME HOME. SHURE YOU'LL GET MORE THAN THAT IN BED!" Illustration: "The Harp in the Air." =Irish Gentleman= (_who has vainly endeavoured to execute a Jig to the fitful Music of the Telegraph Wires_). "SHURE! WHOIVER Y'ARE YE CAN'T PLAY A BIT! HOW CAN A JINTLEMAN DANCE--(_hic!_)--IV YE DON'T KAPE THIME?"!! Illustration: Irish Ideal of Themis. =Biddy= (_to Pat in charge about a difficulty_). "NEVER FEAR, PAT! SHURE Y'AVE GOT AN UPRIGHT JIDGE TO THRY YE!" =Pat.= "AH, BIDDY DARLIN', THE DIVEL AN UPRIGHT JIDGE I WANT! 'TIS WONE THAT'LL _LANE_ A LITTLE!!" Illustration: "Canny." =First North Briton.= "'T'S A FINE DAY, THIS?" =Second Ditto.= "NO ILL, AVA." =First North Briton.= "YE'LL BE TRAVELLIN'?" =Second Ditto.= "WEEL, MAYBE I'M NO." =First North Briton.= "GAUN T'ABERDEEN, MAYBE?" =Second Ditto.= "YE'RE NO FAUR AFF'T!!" _Mutually satisfied, each goes his respective way._ Illustration: _Irish Architecture._ =Angler= (_in Ireland_). "HULLO, PAT, WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT NOW?" =Pat.= "SHURE, I'M RAISIN' ME ROOF A BIT, YER HONOUR-R!!" Illustration: _Thrift_. =Peebles Body= (_to Townsman who was supposed to be in London on a visit_). "E--EH, MAC! YE'RE SUNE HAME AGAIN!" =Mac.= "E--EH, IT'S JUST A RUINOUS PLACE, THAT! MUN, A HAD NA' BEEN THE-ERRE ABUNE TWA HOOURS WHEN--_BANG_--WENT _SAXPENCE_!!!" Illustration: _Scruples._ =English Tourist= (_having arrived at Greenock on Sunday morning_). "MY MAN, WHAT'S YOUR CHARGE FOR ROWING ME ACROSS THE FRITH?" =Boatman.= "WEEL, SIR, I WAS JIST THINKIN' I CANNA BREAK THE SAWBATH-DAY FOR NO LESS THAN F'FTEEN SHULL'N'S!!" Illustration: A Bad Season. =Sportsman.= "I CAN ASSURE YOU, WHAT WITH THE RENT OF THE MOOR, AND MY EXPENSES, AND 'WHAT NOT,' THE BIRDS HAVE COST ME--AH--A SOVEREIGN APIECE!!" =Keeper.= "A' weel, Sir! 'Deed it's a Maircy ye didna Kill na mair o' 'em!!" Illustration: "Familiarity breeds Contempt." =Keeper= (_who wants to drive the Pheasants to the Squire's corner_). "HOOO-O-O-SH! HERE, BILL, COME HERE! THEY 'ON'T GET UP FOR ME! THEY KNOW ME TOO WELL!" Illustration: Intelligent! =Artist= (_who thinks he has found a good Model for his TOUCHSTONE_.) "HAVE YOU ANY SENSE OF HUMOUR, MR. BINGLES?" =Model.= "THANK Y' SIR, NO, SIR, THANK Y'. I ENJ'YS PRETTY GOOD 'EALTH, SIR, THANK Y' SIR!" Illustration: The "Nimble Ninepence." =City Gent= (_after a critical Inspection_). "WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR THAT MOONLIGHT?" =Picture-Dealer.= "I'LL SHELL YER THE TWO A BARGAIN, SHIR! CHEAP ASH DIRT, SHIR! SHEVENTY-FIVE GUINEASH APEICSHE, SHIR! I'LL WARRANT 'EM UNDOUBTED SMETHERS'S. SHEVENTY-FIVE----" =City Gent.= "O, COME, I DON'T MIND GIVING YOU--THIRTY SHILLINGS FOR THE PAIR." =Picture-Dealer= (_closing with alacrity_). "DONE! WITH YOU, SHIR!!" _City Gent is in for 'em!_ Illustration: Menace. =Little Angler= (_to her refractory Bait_). "KEEP STILL, YOU TIRESOME LITTLE THING! IF YOU DON'T LEAVE OFF SKRIGGLING, I'LL THROW YOU AWAY, AND TAKE ANOTHER!" Illustration: "A Thing of Beauty." =Visitor.= "WELL, GEORGE, AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN TO BE, WHEN YOU HAVE GROWN UP?" =George= (_promptly_). "AN ARTIST!" =Visitor.= "WELL, THEN, YOU SHALL PAINT MY PORTRAIT." =George.= "AH! BUT I MEAN TO PAINT PRETTY THINGS!!" Illustration: Mixed Pickles. =Domestic= (_in terrified accents_). "O, MUM, HERE'S MASTER PLANTAG'N'T, 'M, HAS BEEN AND BROKE HIS GRAN'PA'S INK-BOTTLE IN THE LIB'ARY, AND CUT HIS FINGER DREADFUL, 'M!!" =Grandmamma's Darling= (_gleefully alluding to his Nasal Organ_). "AND GOT A MARBLE UP BY DOZE, GRA'DBA'!!" Illustration: The Trials of a District Visitor. =The Honourable Miss Fuzbuz= (_loq._). "IS MRS. HIGGINS WITHIN?" =Mrs. Tomkins.= "I'LL CALL 'ER, M'UM." (_At the top of her Voice._) "MRS. 'IG----GINS! ERE'S THE PERSON WITH THE TRAC'S!" (_To the Honourable Miss._) "THE LADY WILL BE DOWN PRESENTLY, M'UM!!" Illustration: Legitimate Criticism. =Aged Village Matron= (_to Sympathising Visitor_). "IT'S A 'COOKERY BOOK,' AS MRS. PENEWISE, OUR 'DISTRICT LADY,' GIVE ME THIS CHRISTMAS, MISS. I'D A DEAL SOONER A' HAD THE INGRIDDIMENTS, MISS!!" Illustration: "The Servants." =Old Lady.= "THEY'RE ALL ALIKE, MY DEAR. THERE'S OUR SUSAN (IT'S TRUE SHE'S A DISSENTER), BUT I'VE ALLOWED HER TO GO TO CHAPEL THREE TIMES EVERY SUNDAY SINCE SHE HAS LIVED WITH ME, AND I ASSURE YOU SHE DOESN'T COOK A BIT BETTER THAN SHE DID THE FIRST DAY!!" Illustration: Pleasant for Simpkins! =Photographer= (_to Mr. Simpkins_). "KEEP YOUR HEAD STEADY, PLEASE, SIR, AND LOOK IN THE DIRECTION OF THOSE YOUNG LADIES. STEADY NOW, SIR! DON'T WINK, SIR!" =Mrs. S.= (_by a look that Mr. S. quite understood_). "JUST LET ME SEE HIM WINK!!" Illustration: A Misnomer. =Country Valetudinarian.= "AH YES, MU'M, I'VE HAD THE 'LUMBAGER TURR'BLE BAD, MU'M! 'KETCHES ME IN THE _SMALL_ O' THE BACK 'ERE, MU'M!!" Illustration: "Winkles!" =Philanthropic Coster'= (_who has been crying "Perry-wink--wink--wink!" till he's hoarse--and no buyers_). "I WONDER WHAT THE P'OR UNFORT'NATE CREETERS IN THESE 'ERE LOW NEIGHB'R'OODS DO LIVE ON!!" Illustration: "The Last (Co-operative) Feather." '=My Lady.=' "JUST TAKE AND TIE UP A COUPLE OF THOSE SACKS BEHIND THE CARRIAGE, JAMES. THERE'LL BE ROOM, IF ONE OF YOU RIDES ON THE BOX!!" Illustration: Disaffection! =Adjutant.= "What's the Matter, Drum-Major?" =Drum-Major.= "Please, Sir, the Drums is in a state of Mutiny, and these are the Ringleaders!!" Illustration: Zoology. =Railway Porter= (_to Old Lady travelling with a Menagerie of Pets_). "'STATION MASTER SAY, MUM, AS CATS IS 'DOGS,' AND RABBITS IS 'DOGS,' AND SO'S PARROTS; BUT THIS ERE 'TORTIS' IS A INSECT, SO THERE AIN'T NO CHARGE FOR IT!" Illustration: Extortion. =Porter, S. E. R.= "TICKET FOR MUSICAL INSTRUMENT, PLEASE, SIR." =Amateur Violoncellist= (_who never travels without his bass, indignantly_). "WHAT! PAY FOR THIS? I'VE NEVER HAD TO PAY ON ANY OTHER LINE. THIS IS MY 'CELLO!" =Porter= (_calmly_). "NOT PERSONAL LUGGAGE, SIR. ALL THE SAME IF YOU'D A HURDY-GURDY, SIR!!" _Our Amateur's feelings are too much for him._ Illustration: "Any Ornaments for your Fire-Stoves?" =Little Flora= (_in great distress_). "OH, MAMMA, LOOK HERE! JACK SAYS IT'S AUNT FANNY! SHE'S GOT ON HER BEAUTIFUL BALL-DRESS WITH THE ROSES ON IT, AND SHE'S _STUCK IN THE CHIMNEY_!" Illustration: Compliments of the Season. =Fond Parent.= "I HOPE YOU WILL BE VERY CAREFUL, MR. STIMPSON. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN ACCUSTOMED TO CUT THEIR HAIR MYSELF." =Mr. Stimpson.= "SO I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT, MADAM!" Illustration: On the Face of It. =Pretty Teacher.= "NOW, JOHNNY WELLS, CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT IS MEANT BY A MIRACLE?" =Johnny.= "YES, TEACHER. MOTHER SAYS IF YOU DUN'T MARRY NEW PARSON, 'TWULL BE A MURRACLE!" Illustration: Obvious Initiative. (_A lively Native of the Deep Sea seizes hold of a Shepherd's Dog by the Tail, who makes off as fast as he can._) =Fishmonger= (_in a rage_). "WHUSTLE ON YER DOG, MUN!" =Highlander= (_coolly_). "WHUSTLE ON M' DOG? NA, NA, FRIEND! WHUSTLE YOU ON YOUR _PARTAN_!!" Illustration: Driving a Bargain. =Economical Drover.= "A TEECK'T TAE FAA'KIRK." =Polite Clerk.= "FIVE-AND-NINEPENCE, PLEASE." =Drover.= "AH'LL GIE YE FIVE SHILLINGS!" =Clerk= (_astonished_). "EH!" =Drover=. "WEEL, AH'LL GIE YE FIVE-AN'-THRIPPENCE, AN' DEIL A BAWBEE MAIR! IS'T A BARGAIN?!" Illustration: Candid. =Tam= (_very dry, at door of Country Inn, Sunday Morning_). "AYE, MAN, YE MICHT GIE ME A BIT GILL OOT IN A BOTTLE!" =Landlord= (_from within_). "WEEL, YE KEN, TAMMAS, I DAURNA SELL ONYTHING THE DAY. AND FORBYE YE GOT A HALF-MUTCHKIN AWA' WI' YE LAST NICHT (AFTER HOORS TAE); IT CANNA BE A' DUNE YET!" =Tam.= "DUNE! LOSH, MAN, D'YE THINK A' COULD SLEEP AN' WHUSKEY I' THE HOOSE?!" Illustration: An Irish Model. =Mrs. Magillicuddy= (_to her Daughter_). "WHY, WHY, ROSEEN! WHAT'S BEEN DELAYIN' YE? WHY! AND ME WAITIN' THIS HOUR PAST TO COME IN WID THE MILK!" =Rose.= "O, SURE, THIN, MOTHER DEAR, ON ME WAY BACK FROM THE MEADA' I MET SUCH A DARLIN' ENGLISH JINTLEMAN--A RALE ARTIST. WHY, AND HE AXED ME TO ALLOW HIM TO TAKE ME LANDSKIP; AND O, MOTHER MAVRONE, IT'S A WONDER HOW LIKE ME HE'S MED IT, GLORY BE TO THE SAINTS!" Illustration: A Benediction! =Irish Beggarwoman= (_to our friend, Dr. O'Gorman, whose Nose is of the shortest_). "WON'T YE GIVE ME A COPPER, DOCTHER DEAR? THEY, NOW, IF YE HAVEN'T WAN PENNY CONVANIENT!--AND MAY THE BLISSED SAINTS INCRASE YE!" =Dr. O'Gorman.= "STAND ASIDE, MY GOOD WOMAN. I'VE NOTHING FOR YOU." =Beggarwoman.= "O, THIN, THE LARD PRESARVE YER EYESIGHT, FOR THE DIVIL A NOSE YE HAVE TO MOUNT THE 'SPECS' UPON!!" Illustration: Mrs. Frummage's Birthday Dinner-Party. =Mrs. F.= ("_coming from behind the Screen, sneakin' just like her_"). "THERE! OH YOU GOODFORNOTHING BOY, NOW I'VE FOUND YOU OUT. HOW DARE YOU TOUCH THE WINE, SIR?" =Robert.= "PLEASE 'M, I WAS--I WAS ONLY JUST A GOIN' TO WISH YOURS AN' MASTER'S WERY GOOD 'EALTH 'M!" Illustration: Confession. =Old Lady= (_who can't stand her Page's destructive carelessness any longer_). "NOW, ROBERT, I WANT YOU CLEARLY TO UNDERSTAND THE REASON I PART WITH YOU. CAN YOU TELL ME?" =Robert= (_affected to tears_). "YES, 'M." =Old Lady.= "WHAT, ROBERT?" =Robert.= "'CAUSE I'M--(_SNIFF_)--'CAUSE I'M--'CAUSE I'M _SO UGLY_!!" Illustration: A Stroke of Business. =Village Hampden= (_"who with dauntless breast" has undertaken, for sixpence, to keep off the other boys_). "IF ANY OF YER WANTS TO SEE WHAT WE'RE A PAINTIN' OF, IT'S A 'ALFPENNY A 'EAD, BUT YOU MARN'T MAKE NO REMARKS." Illustration: Proper Reproof. =Fussy Party.= "WHY DON'T YOU TOUCH YOUR HAT TO ME, BOY?" =Country Boy.= "SO I WUL I' YEAOU'LL HOWD THE CA-ALF!" Illustration: Little and Good. =Gentleman.= "WHO DO THESE PIGS BELONG TO, BOY?" '=Chaw.=' "WHY, THIS 'ERE OWD ZOW." =Gentleman.= "YES, YES; BUT I MEAN WHO'S THEIR MASTER?" '=Chaw.=' "WHY, THAT THERE LITTLE 'UN; HE'S A VARMUN TO FOIGHT!" Illustration: "Mistakes Will Happen." =Mamma= (_alarmed_). "WHAT IS IT, MY DARLING?" =Pet.= "YA--AH, BOO--OOH--AH!" =Mamma.= "WHAT'S THE MATTER, THEN? COME AND TELL ITS OWN----" =Pet.= "BA--H-OO-H--SHE--SHE DID--WASH ME ONCE--AN'--SAYS--SHE DIDN'T--AN'--SHE'S BEEN--AN' GONE AN' WASHED ME OVER AGAIN!!" Illustration: Brushing Pa's New Hat. =Edith.= "NOW, TOMMY, YOU KEEP TURNING SLOWLY, TILL WE'VE DONE IT ALL ROUND." Illustration: More Than One for His Nob. =Irritable Old Gentleman= (_who is rather particular about his appearance_). "I WISH YOU'D BE CAREFUL. THAT'S THE THIRD OR FOURTH TIME YOU'VE PRICKED ME WITH YOUR SCISSORS!" =Young Man= (_from "Round the Corner"_). "BEG YER PARDON, SIR, BUT THE FACT IS, SIR, I 'AVEN'T BEEN IN THE 'ABIT O' CUTTIN' 'AIR, SIR. WE'RE RATHER SHORT OF 'ANDS, SO----" _Old Gent explodes._ Illustration: A Passage of Arms. =Hairdresser.= "'AIR'S VERY DRY, SIR!" =Customer= (_who knows what's coming_). "I LIKE IT DRY!" =Hairdresser= (_after awhile, again advancing to the attack_). "'EAD'S VERY SCURFY, SIR!" =Customer= (_still cautiously retiring_). "YA-AS, I PREFER IT SCURFY!" _Assailant gives in defeated_ Illustration: Flunkeianum. =Master.= "THOMPSON, I BELIEVE THAT I HAVE REPEATEDLY EXPRESSED AN OBJECTION TO BEING SERVED WITH STALE BREAD AT DINNER. HOW IS IT MY WISHES HAVE NOT BEEN ATTENDED TO?" =Thompson.= "WELL, SIR, I REELY DON'T KNOW WHAT IS TO BE DONE! IT WON'T DO TO WASTE IT, AND WE _CAN'T_ EAT IT DOWN-STAIRS!!" Illustration: _A Dilemma._ =Auxiliary Recruit= (_to himself_). "MURDER! MURDER! WHAT'LL I DO NOW? 'DRILL-SARJINT TOULD ME ALWAYS TO SALUTE ME OFFICER WID THE FAR-OFF HAND, AND HERE'S TWO IV EM! FAIX, I'LL MAKE IT STRAIGHT FOR MESELF ANYHOW!" _Throws up both Hands._ Illustration: _Lessons in the Vacation._ =Public School-man.= "HE-AR, CABBY, WE'LL GIVE YOU EIGHTEEN-PENCE TO TAKE US TO BRIXTON." =Cabby.= "WELL, I GENERALLY DO CARRY CHILDREN 'ALF PRICE, BUT I'M ENGAGED THIS MORNING, GENTS!" Illustration: Wimbledon. =The Irrepressible 'Arry= (_to Swell--Small-bore Man--who has just fired_). "YA--AH! NEVER 'IT IT!!" Illustration: Wimbledon. =Volunteer Mounted Officer= (_Midnight_). "HULLO HERE! WHY DON'T YOU TURN OUT THE GUARD? I'M THE FIELD-OFFICER OF THE DAY!" =Volunteer Sentry.= "THEN WHAT THE DEUCE ARE YOU DOIN' OUT THIS TIME O' NIGHT?" Illustration: A Hardship. =Mistress.= "I THINK, ELIZABETH, I MUST ASK YOU TO GO TO CHURCH THIS AFTERNOON INSTEAD OF THIS MORNING, BECAUSE----" =Elizabeth= (_indignantly_). "WELL, MUM, WHICH IN MY LAST PLACE I WAS NEVER AS'ED TO GO AN' 'EAR A CURATE PREACH!" Illustration: "Like her Impudence." =Missis and the Young Ladies= (_together_). "GOODNESS GRACIOUS, J'MIMA! WHAT HAVE YOU----_WHERE'S_ YOUR CR'N'LIN?" (_This word snappishly._) =Jemima.= "OH 'M, PLEASE 'M, WHICH I UNDERSTOOD AS THEY WAS A GOIN' OUT, 'M----" _Receives warning on the spot._ Illustration: "Too Bad!" =Comic Man= (_in an audible Whisper, while his Friend is "obliging" with "Adelaide"_). "LOOK OUT! HE'S COMING TO THE PASSIONATE PART NOW. YOU'LL SEE HIM WAG HIS SHOULDERS!" Illustration: "It's the Pace that Kills." =Miss Rattleton= (_who means Waltzing_). "OH, I DID NOT SAY 'STOP,' MR. PLUMPLEY." =Mr. Plumpley= (_utterly blown, in gasps_). "'MSURE YOU--MUSTBETIRED----" _And joins the Card-players._ Illustration: The Gamut. =Jack Bowbell= (_beginning his Song_). "'APPY LAND, 'APPY LAND----" =Tom Belgrave.= "ONE MOMENT--EXCUSE ME, MY DEAR FELLOW--BUT DON'T YOU THINK THE SONG WOULD GO BETTER IF YOU WERE TO SOUND YOUR _H_'S JUST A LITTLE?" =Jack Bowbell.= "EH? SOUND MY _H_'S?" (_Chuckles._) "SHOWS HOW MUCH YOU KNOW ABOUT MUSIC!--NO SUCH NOTE--ONLY GOES UP TO _G_!" (_Continues._) "'APPY LAND, 'APPY LAND----" Illustration: _Garrison Instruction._ =Instructor= (_lecturing_). "GENTLEMEN, A THREE-LEGGED TRESTLE IS A TRESTLE WITH THREE LEGS. YOU HAD BETTER MAKE A NOTE OF THAT, GENTLEMEN." (_Intense scribbling._) =General in Embryo= (_but not at present noted for smartness_), _after a pause of some Minutes_. "I BEG YOUR PARDON, MAJOR, BUT HOW MANY LEGS DID YOU SAY THE TRESTLE HAD?" (_Left sitting._) Illustration: Cavalry Criticism. =Adjutant= (_to Riding-Master_). "AH, THERE'S MR. QUICKSTEP!" (_Who had just Exchanged into the Regiment from the Infantry_.) "HOW DOES HE GET ON?" =Riding-Master=. "WELL, SIR, I THINK HE'S THE HOSSIEST GEN'LEMAN AFUT--AND THE FUTTIEST GEN'LEMAN ON A HOS THAT EVER I'VE MET WITH SINCE I'VE BEEN IN THE REG'MENT!" Illustration: "_The Way we Had in the Army._" =Colonel= (_of the pre-Examination period--to studious Sub_). "I SAY, YOUNGSTER, YOU'LL NEVER MAKE A SOLDIER IF YOU DON'T MIND WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT!" =Sub= (_mildly_). "I SHOULD BE SORRY TO THINK THAT, SIR!" =Colonel.= "I SAW YOU SNEAKING UP THE HIGH STREET YESTERDAY, LOOKING LIKE A METHODIST PARSON IN REDUCED CIRCUMSTANCES!--HOLD UP YOUR HEAD, SIR! BUY A STICK, SIR! SLAP YOUR LEG, SIR! AND STARE AT THE GIRLS AT THE WINDOWS!" Illustration: "An Officer and a Gentleman!" =Volunteer Captain= (_bumptiously_). "OFFICER'S TICKET!" =Considerate Clerk=. "GOVER'MENT TARIFF'S HIGH ON THIS LINE, SIR. YOU'D BETTER GO AS A GENTLEMAN! CHEAPER!" _The Captain is shocked, loses his presence of mind, and takes advantage of the suggestion_. Illustration: "The Service going to, &c.!" ENSIGN BROWN SHARES A TENT AT WIMBLEDON WITH HIS FRIEND JONES, PRIVATE IN THE SAME COMPANY. =Ensign Brown=. "OH, I SAY, JO--MR. JONES, THERE'S ONE OF THOSE PEGS LOOSE. HEM--WILL YOU--I WISH--JUST JUMP OUT, AND MAKE IT FAST!" =Private Jones=. "OH, HANG IT, BR--MR. BROWN! COME, I DON'T MIND TOSSING YOU!!" Illustration: Presence of Mind. =Constables= (_in chorus_). "HOY! HULLO! STOP! TURN BACK THERE! CAN'T COME THROUGH THE PARK!" =Elderly Female= (_in a hurry to catch a train_). "P'LICEMAN, I'M THE _'OME SECRETARY_!!!" =Sergeant of Police= (_taken aback_). "OH, I BEG YOUR PARDON, I'M SURE, MUM! ALL RIGHT--DRIVE ON, CABBY!" _Old Lady saves the train._ Illustration: "Bric à Brac." =Mamma= } { {SAM!" }_together_ {"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, { =Daughters=} { {PA'!" =Papa= (_who has a passion for Antiques_). "MY DEARS, I THOUGHT IT WOULD DO SO NICELY FOR THE LANDING AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, EH." Illustration: Encouraging. =First Bystander= (_evidently Village Schoolmaster--ignorant set of people generally!_). "DON'T SEEM TO BE MAKING MUCH OF IT, DO 'E?" =Second Bystander= (_you'd have thought him an intelligent Farmer, by the look of him_). "AMMY-TOOR, SEEMIN'LY!!" Illustration: "Fine Art." =Rural Connoisseur.= "HE'S A P'INTIN' TWO PICTUR'S AT ONCE, D' YER SEE? 'BLEST IF I DON'T LIKE THAT THERE LITTLE 'UN AS HE'S GOT HIS THUMB THROUGH, THE BEST!" Illustration: _Our Reserves._ (AUXILIARY FORCES, NORTH OF IRELAND.) =Last Joined Supernumerary.= "NOW, THEN, SENTRY, WHY DON'T YOU SALUTE YOUR OFFICER?" =Militia Sentry= (_old Yankee Irish Veteran, who has been through the "Secesh" War_). "SALUTE, IS IT? DIVEL A SALUTE YOU'LL GET ONTILL YE PAY YER FUTTIN'!!" Illustration: _Badinage._ =Facetious 'Bus-Driver= (_offering to pull up_). "'ERE Y'ARE, SIR. LOOK SHARP, BILL AND 'ELP THE GEN'LEMAN IN WITH HIS LUGGAGE!" =Chimney-Sweep= (_whose self-respect is hurt_) _uses strong language!_ ='Bus-Driver.= "BEG PARD'N, SIR. GEN'LEMAN AIN'T FOR US, BILL. HE'S A LOOKIN' OUT FOR A 'HATLAS. GOIN' TO MADAM TOOSAWD'S, TO 'AVE HIS STATTY DONE IN WAX-WORK!!" Illustration: _Particular to a Hair._ =Irate Major= (_to hairy Sub._). "WHEN NEXT YOU COME ON PARADE, SIR, HAVE THE GOODNESS TO LEAVE THOSE CONFOUNDED WEATHERCOCKS BEHIND YOU!" Illustration: _Chronology._ ='Bus-Driver.= "THEY TELL ME THERE'VE BEEN SOME COINS FOUND IN THESE 'ERE 'EXKYVATIONS THAT 'A BEEN BURIED THERE A MATTER O' FOUR OR FIVE 'UNDRED YEAR!!" =Passenger Friend.= "OH, THAT'S NOTHIN'! WHY, THERE'S SOME IN THE BRI'SH MUSEUM--AH--MORE THAN TWO THOUSAND YEAR OLD!!" ='Bus-Driver= (_after a pause_). "COME, GEORGE, THAT WON'T DO, YER KNOW! 'CAUSE WE'RE ONLY IN EIGHT'N 'UNDRED AN' SIXTY-NINE NOW!!!" Illustration: "_Bus-Measure._" ='Bus-Driver.= "NEVER SEE THE COMET?! WHY, WHEREVER COULD YOU 'A'----" (_Notices Shortness of "Ge'tleman's" hair, &c., and hesitates_). "HOWSOMEVER----" =Passenger= (_relieving his embarrassment_). "WHEREABOUTS WAS IT?" =Driver.= "WELL, I'LL TELL YER. IT WAS ABOUT THE LENGTH O' THIS YERE BUS FROM THE FORRARDEST LEADER IN THE GREAT BEAR!" Illustration: Tricks upon Travellers. =Bonsor= (_down upon little Stannery, who's a great boaster about his "Swell" acquaintance, and his extensive "Travel," and this year especially, down Palestine way_). "DID YOU SEE THE DARDANELLES?" =Stannery.= "EH! THE--EH? OH, YE'--YES! JOLLY FELLARS AS EVER I MET! DINED WITH 'EM AT VIENNAH!" _Little S. has left the Club._ Illustration: Quantity not Quality. =Brown, Senior.= "WELL, FRED, WHAT DID YOU SEE DURING YOUR TRIP ABROAD?" =Brown, Junior.= "AW--'PON M'WORD, 'DON'T KNOW WHAT I SAW 'XACTLY, 'ONLY KNOW I DID MORE BY THREE COUNTRIES, EIGHT TOWNS, AND FOUR MOUNTAINS, THAN SMITH DID IN THE SAME TIME!" Illustration: "A Woman of Business." =Husband= (_who has been on the Continent, and left his Wife some Blank Cheques_). "MY DEAR LOUISA, I FIND YOU HAVE CONSIDERABLY OVERDRAWN AT THE BANK!" =Wife.= "O, NONSENSE, WILLY, HOW CAN THAT BE? WHY, I'VE TWO OF THOSE BLANK CHEQUES LEFT YET!!" Illustration: "Reason in Woman." =Young Wife.= "GEORGE, DEAR, I'VE HAD A TALK WITH THE SERVANTS THIS MORNING, AND I'VE AGREED TO RAISE THEIR WAGES. THEY SAID EVERYTHING WAS SO DEAR NOW--MEAT WAS SO HIGH, AND COALS HAD RISEN TO SUCH A PRICE, AND EVERYTHING----I THOUGHT THIS WAS REASONABLE, BECAUSE I'VE SO OFTEN HEARD YOU COMPLAIN OF THE SAME THING." Illustration: "Our Failures." =Husband.= "I SAY, LIZZIE, WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU MAKE THIS MINT-SAUCE OF?" =Young Wife= (_who has been "helping" Cook_). "PARSLEY, TO BE SURE!" Illustration: "_Where there's a Will there's a Way!_" =Cook.= "PLEASE, 'M, I WISHES TO GIVE WARNING----" =Mistress= (_surprised_). "WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER?" =Cook.= "THE FACT IS, MUM, I'M GOING TO GET MARRIED!" =Mistress.= "WHY, COOK, I DID NOT KNOW YOU WERE ENGAGED!" =Cook.= "WHICH I HAM NOT AZACTLY ENGAGED AS YET, MUM; BUT I FEELS MYSELF TO BE OF THAT 'APPY DISPOSITION AS I COULD LOVE HANY MAN, MUM!" Illustration: "_Satisfactory!_" =Mistress.= "WELL, JESSIE, I'M GOING INTO NAIRNE, AND WILL SEE YOUR MOTHER. CAN I GIVE HER ANY MESSAGE FROM YOU?" =Jessie= (_her first "place"_). "OU, MEM, YE CAN JUST SAY I'M UNCO' WEEL PLEASED WI' YE!!" Illustration: "_Ha! Ha! The Wooin' O't!_" =Young Mistress= (_gravely; she had seen an affectionate parting at the garden-gate_). "I SEE YOU'VE GOT A YOUNG MAN, JANE!" =Jane= (_apologetically_). "ONLY WALKED OUT WITH HIM ONCE, M'UM!" =Mistress.= "O, BUT I THOUGHT I SAW--DIDN'T YOU--DIDN'T HE--TAKE A KISS, JANE?" =Jane.= "O, M'M, ONLY AS A FRIEND, M'M!!" Illustration: "_The Way we Build now._" =Indignant Houseowner= (_he had heard it was so much cheaper, in the end, to buy your House_). "WH' WHAT'S THE--WHAT AM I!--WHA'--WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE IS THE MEANING OF THIS, MR. SCAMPLING!?" =Local Builder.= "T' TUT, TUT! WELL, SIR, I 'SPECTS SOME ONE'S BEEN A-LEANIN' AGIN IT!!" Illustration: "In the Long Run." =Town Gent.= "NOW DO YOU FIND KEEPING POULTRY ANSWERS?" =Country Gent= (_lately retired_). "O, 'ES, S'POSED TO ANSWER. Y' SEE THERE'S THE ORIGINAL COST OF THE FOWLS--'F COURSE THE FOOD GOES DOWN TO ME, Y' KNOW. WELL, THEN, I PURCHASE THE EGGS FROM THE CHILDREN, AND THEY EAT THEM!!!" Illustration: Rather too Literal. =Country Gentleman= (_in a rage_). "WHY, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO, YOU IDIOT! YOU'VE LET HIM DOWN, AND----" =New Groom.= "YES, YER HONNER, YE TOULD ME TO BREAK HIM; AN' BRUK HE IS, KNEES AN' ALL, WORSE LUCK!" Illustration: "Bon Voyage!" =Mossu= (_shot into a nice soft loam_) _exultingly_. "A--HA--A! I AM SAFE O-VÈRE! NOW IT IS YOUR TURN, MEESTER TIMBRE JOMPRE! COME ON, SABE!" Illustration: "Fiat Experimentum," &c. =The Rector.= "GOOD MORNING, MRS. SMITHERS. HOW'S THE BABY? ISN'T IT RATHER EARLY TO BRING HIM TO CHURCH? DON'T YOU THINK HE'LL BE RESTLESS?" =Mrs. Smithers.= "O, NO, SIR, HE'LL BE QUIET, SIR, WHICH WE TOOK HIM TO THE METHODIS' CHAPEL LAST SUNDAY O' PURPOSE TO TRY HIM, SIR!" Illustration: Irreverent. =Policeman= (_on the occasion of our "Confirmation"_). "STOP! STOP! GO BACK! YOU MUSTN'T COME IN HERE! WE'RE EXPECTIN' O' THE BISHOP EVERY MINUTE!" =Cabby= (_fortissimo_). "ALL RIGHT! WHY'VE GOT THE OLD BUFFER INSIDE!" Illustration: Wet and Dry. =Careful Wife.= "ARE YOU VERY WET, DEAR?" =Ardent Angler= (_turning up his flask_). "NO; DRY AS A LIME-KILN--HAVEN'T HAD A DROP THESE TWO HOURS!" Illustration: "_Not so Fast!_" =Old Gent.= (_soliloquising, in the Wilds of Glenmuchie_). "AH, WELL, THIS IS VERY JOLLY! WEALTH'S A GREAT BLESSING--NOT THAT I'M A RICH MAN--BUT AFTER THE TURMOIL AND WORRY OF BUSINESS, TO BE ABLE TO RETIRE TO THESE CHARMING SOLITUDES, THE SILENCE ONLY BROKEN BY THE GRATEFUL SOUNDS OF THE RIPPLING STREAM ('BURN,' I MEAN. AH! I NEARLY HAD HIM THEN!), AND THE HUM OF THE BEE! TO BE ABLE TO LEAVE LONDON AND ITS TIRESOME MILLIONS, AND FORGET ALL THE LOW----" =Voice from the Bridge= (_the ubiquitous "'Arry"_). "COULD YER 'BLIGE US WITH A WORM, GOV'NOUR?"!! Illustration: Banting in the Yeomanry. =Troop-Sergeant Major.= "IT COMES TO THIS, CAPTAIN, 'A MUN E'THER HEV' A NEW JACKET OR KNOCK OFF ONE O' MY MEALS!" Illustration: Something from the Provinces. =Excursionist= (_politely_). "CAN YOU KINDLY DIRECT ME THE NEAREST WAY TO SLAGLEY?" =Powerful Navvy.= "AH CAN POONCH TH' HEAD O' THEE!" _Excursionist retires hastily._ Illustration: "Ways and Means." =First Country Gentleman.= "'MEAN HUNTING THIS WINTER, CHARLIE?" =Second Country Gentleman= (_doubtfully_). "'SHALL TRY AND 'WORK' IT." =First Country Gentleman.= "HOW?" =Second Country Gentleman.= "GIVE UP THE UNDER-NURSE, I THINK." Illustration: Blank Firing. =Ancient Sportsman= (_whose Sight is not what it used to be_). "PICK 'EM UP, JAMES, PICK 'EM UP! WHY DON'T YOU PICK 'EM UP?" =Veteran Keeper.= "'CAUSE THERE BEAN'T ANY DOWN, MY LORD!" CONTENTS. PAGE Adjustment 25 A Fortiori 110 Alarming 44 Alma Mater 50 Angling Extraordinary 81 Answer, a Soft 22 Anything for a Change 118 Appeal, a Final 37 Appearances 118 Arbiter Elegantiarum 35 Arcadian Amenities 56 Archery Meeting, the 76 Architecture (Irish) 123 Argumentum ad Hominem 21 Artful--Very! 57 Artist, Our 54 Art-School Conversazione, Our 119 As Well as can be Expected 46 Awkward! 75, 108 Badinage 146 Bagpipes and Classical Music 56 Banting in the Yeomanry 155 Bargain, Driving a 132 Barometrical 14 Beard Movement, the 106 Beauty, a Thing of 126 Benediction! a 133 Bereaved 96 Between two Shoeblacks we fall, &c. 120 Bird Show, the 5 Birthday Dinner-Party, Mrs. Frummage's 134 Blank Firing 155 Bon Voyage! 100, 152 Boon Companions 96 Boxing-Day 55 Boys, those Dreadful 80 Breaking the Ice 24, 156 Bric à Brac 144 Brother Brush 84 Brushing Pa's New Hat 136 Business! 69 " a Stroke of 135 Bus-Measure 147 By the Card 41 Candid 132 Canny 68, 122 Casual Acquaintance, a 43 Catechism under Difficulties 78 Cavalry Criticism 142 Chaff 31 Change for the Better, a , 65 Character, a Satisfactory 98 Chronology 147 Circumlocutory! 43 Civil Servants, H. M., What they have to Endure 117 Civil Service Miseries 49 Club Law 94 Colloquial Equivalents 65 Commissariat, the 69 Comparisons 73 Compliment, a 47 Complimentary 39 Compliments of the Season 82, 85, 131 Compliments of the (Sketching) Season 84 Concert, the Morning 97 Conclusive 58 Confederate, a Treacherous 23 Confession 134 " in Confusion 18 Confidence, in 93 Connoisseur, the 16 Connoisseurs, the 60 Conscience, a Guilty 74 Conscience Clause, the 101 Considerate 52 Convalescent, the 74 Cool Card, a 97 Cricket 23 Criticism, Considerate 109 " Legitimate 127 Culture for the Working Classes 43 Cure, a Perfect 45 Curious 118 Customer, Bad 2 Dear, Dear Boy! 83 Decimals on Deck 13 Definition, a 70 Degenerate Son, a 25 Delicacy 40 Delicately Put 73 Depression 86 Desperate Case! 25, 100 Dignity 1, 102 Dilemma, a 20, 91, 138 Dinners, Little, How we arrange our 58 Disaffection! 125 Dish, a New 53 Distinction, a 51 Distracting 47 District Visitor, Trials of a 127 Durance 3 Duty and Pleasure 69 Education! 23, 101 Embarrassing 50 Encouraging! 90, 145 Equal to the Situation 74 Exchange! 25 Excuse, a Perfect 107 Exempli Gratia 102 Extenuating Circumstances 70 Extortion 130 Fahrenheit 107 Failing, a Little 60 Failures, Our 149 Familiarity breeds Contempt 124 Family Man, a 15 Family Pride 1 Family Ties 8 Feather, the last (Co-operative) 125 Fiat Experimentum 153 Fine Art 145 Finishing Touch, the 109 Fish, a Big 56 Fishing, an Evening's (behind the Distillery at Sligo) 121 Flattering 72 Flunkeianum 137 For Better for Worse 7 Game (a) Two can Play at 13 Gamut, the 141 Garrison Instruction 142 Grandiloquence 77 Gratitude 93 Grey Mare, the 58 Gentility in Greens 9 Geology 96 Golden Age Restored, the 63 Habit, Force of 50 " a Luxurious 63 Ha! Ha! the Wooin' o' it 150 Happy Thought 82 Hard Lines 35 Hardship, a 140 Hard-up on a Wet Day 99 Harp in the Air, the 122 Heresy 42 He thought he was Safe 108 Hibernian Veracity 111 High Life below Stairs! 94 Hoist with his own Pomade 47 Hunting Appointments 89 Hunting Idiot 54 Hygiene 108 Hyperbole 88 Ignorance, Crass 10 Im-pertinent 120 Incidit in Scyllam, &c. 117 Incombinable Elements 99 Ingenuas Didicisse, &c. 36 Ingenuity, Irish 12 In the Long Run 151 Initiative, Obvious 132 Inspection, Our 89 Intelligent! 129 In Vino Memoria 78 Io Bacche! 60 Irish Grievances, Real 88 Irreverent 153 Irrevocable 55 Is it Pos-sible?! 31 It's an Ill Wind, &c. 90 It's the Pace that Kills 141 Jeopardy, in 41 Just in Time 17 Knowledge, Pursuit of 95 Labour, Division of 38 Lapsus Linguæ 76 Last Word, the 91 Le Jeu ne vaut pas la Chandelle 28 Lessons in the Vacation 138 Let Well alone! 28 Levelling Up 77 Liberal to a Fault 48 Like her Impudence 140 Lingua East Anglia 62 Little and Good 135 Look before you Leap 27 Lucid! 26 Lucus a Non, &c. 88 Luxury, Seasonable 22 Making Things Pleasant 81 Mal Apropos 18 Manners! 116 Manoeuvres, Our 19, 59 March of Refinement 2 Master of the Situation?! 116 Matter! 37 Meat Supply, the 66 Menace 126 Men were Deceivers ever 49 Mens Conscia 1 Mercies, Small, (not) Thankful for 39 Military Manoeuvres 19 Mind and Matter 79 Mine of Speculation, a 21 Misnomer, a 128 Mistakes will Happen 136 Mistletoe Bough, Oh the 42 Model, an Irish 133 More than one for his Nob 137 M. P., a Pledged 4 Music in the Midlands 106 Music of the Future--Sensation Opera 94 Mystery solved, the 3 Mystification 71 Nae that Fou! 110 Narcotic, a 15 Natural Advantages 113 Nature and Art 113 Never say 'Die' 36 Nimble Ninepence, the 129 No accounting for Taste 64 Noblesse oblige! 105 No Mistake, this Time 27 No such Luck 30 Not Proven 121 Not so Fast! 154 Not to put too fine a Point on it 36 Obliging 71 Off! 38 Offender, an Old 55 Offer, a Fair 111 Officer (an) and a Gentleman! 143 Once for All 92 On the Face of it 131 Order, an Extensive 30 Ornaments for your Fire-Stoves 131 Panic in the Kitchen, a 32 Parthian Shaft, a 115 Particular! 34, 90 " to a Hair 147 Partner, Vivifying Treatment of a 34 Passage of Arms, a 137 Penny Wise 46 Perils of the Deep 4 Personal! 100 Perspective! 79 Pet, Intelligent 3 Pickles, Mixed 126 Pic-nic, the 57 Pink of Fashion, the 5 Plain to Demonstration 9 Pleasant for Simpkins! 128 Pleasuring! 107 Plutocrat, a 37 Point of View, a 87 Point of View, from one 119 Poor Humanity! 7 Precise 29 Presence of Mind 144 Prevention's better than Cure 8 Profanation 80 Proof Positive 32 Prospect, a Pleasant 67, 85 Prospect, a Nice 95 Provinces, Something from the 155 Prudence, Common 6 Pulpit-Critics, Stern 68 Qualifications 33 Quantity, not Quality 148 Quite another Thing 111 Quite Superfluous 105 Races not yet Extinct 20 Rather too Literal 152 Ready! 83 Reason in Woman 149 Reassuring 67, 112 Reductio ad Absurdum 86 Refrigerated Tourists 2 Refusal, a Rash 73 Register! Register! 120 Relapse 97 Reminiscences 46 Reproof, Proper 135 Res Angustæ Domi 11 Reserves, Our--the Battle of Amesbury 59 " Auxiliary Forces, North of Ireland 146 Restraints of Society 114 Retributive Justice 41 Revenge for the Union, More 13 Riding Lesson, the 26 Roll-Call, the 9 Romance of the Kitchen 82 Run of the House, the 103 Running Drill, the New 19 Rural Simplicity 78 Rustic Recollections 52 Sacrifice 70 Satisfactory! 150 Sausage Machine, the 16 Scruples 123 Scrupulous 12 Season, a Bad 124 Secrets 115 Selling him a Pennyworth 65 Sermon, the First 24 Servants, the 35, 40, 104, 127 Service (the) going to, &c. 143 Shocking! 156 Silence is Golden 14 Silly Suffolk (?) Pastorals--Reciprocity 76 Silver Lining to a Cloud, not a 53 Simple Addition 114 Simplicity, Sweet 115 Sinister Slip, a 49 Slip o' the Tongue, a 18 Small Mercies 44 Sold--Cheap 64 Son, a Kind 10 " a Degenerate 25 Spoiling it 33 Straightforward View, a 51 Struggle for Existence, the 98 Suit your Talk to your Company 75 Suspicion! 86 Sweet is Revenge--especially to Women! 24 Sympathy 48, 103 Tailors' Strike, in consequence of the 45 Temper, the Triumphs of 6 Temptation 33 Terms, Cash 93 Theatricals, Our 72 The Better the Day, &c. 51 The Way we Build now 151 The Way we had in the Army 143 The Way we Live now 112 The more Haste, the less Speed 87 Themis, Irish Ideal of 122 There's many a Slip 62 Tho' lost to Sight-- 29 Thrift 123 Ticket of Leave, a 66 'Tis better not to Know 30 Too Bad! 141 Too Late 106 Too True! 92 Tourists, Refrigerated 2 Tracts! 66 Trade, State of 27 Travellers, Tricks upon 148 Truth, a Half 7 Trying 5 Turk, a Regular 117 Turn about 81 Two Sides to a Question 85 Tyranny 45 Ulster, the 14 Unconscionable 15 Unprejudiced! 10 Up and Down Stairs 92 Veneration 22 Vested Interests 31 Veteran, a 61 Wages and Wives 95 Warning, Awful 16 Ways and Means 155 Weather, a Change in the 11 Weights and Measures 44 Well Meant 113 Wet and Dry 154 What Next? 104 What's in a Name? 35 What's the Odds? 61 When you are about it 103 Where Ignorance is Bliss &c. 39 Where there's a Will there's a Way! 150 Wimbledon 139 Winkles! 128 Woman-hater, a 102 Woman of Business, a 149 Woman's Rights 68 Words and Weights 17 XXX cellent Reasons 48 Zoology 130 * * * * * * Transcriber's note: The index has been moved from the beginning of the book to the end for the reader's convenience. The punctuation and spelling are as printed in the original publication. 
44431	----	FOUR HUNDRED HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS By George Cruikshank With Portrait and Biographical Sketch Second Edition London Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co Glasgow BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH GEORGE CRUIKSHANK was born in London on the 27th of September, 1792. His parents were of Scotch nationality. The father, namely, Isaac Cruikshank, was an artist by profession, having considerable skill in water-colour painting and etching. The mother was a Miss Macnaughten, of Perth, a _protégé_ of the Countess of Perth, and the possessor of a small sum of money. She was a person of energetic temper and strong will, and so thrifty that by saving she added considerably to her original pecuniary possession. She was also careful to bring up her children in a pious manner, being, along with them, a regular attendant at the Scotch Church in Crown Court, Drury Lane. The couple took up house in Duke Street, Bloomsbury, where two sons and one daughter were burn. The elder son was born in 1789, named Isaac Robert, and ultimately became an artist of considerable reputation, but of much less originality in character and design than his younger brother. George was born about three years later. In artistic work he struck out in a new line, and although the difference between his work and that of his father and brother was not in every case strongly marked, still it was always sufficient to enable experts to select the productions of the youngest from those of his two seniors, a distinctly new and original vein appearing in them from the first. While the three children were still quite young, the family removed to No. 117 Dorset Street, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, where the parents let a portion of the house to lodgers. Here the father continued to work on his plates, while his wife coloured them by hand, soon, however, obtaining help in that respect from her sons. The boys went to school at Mortlake, and afterwards to Edgeware, but not for long, so that they owed little to school masters. The elder brother went to sea, and not returning when expected, was supposed to be lost, and mourned for as such. But after three years he suddenly re-appeared, and was welcomed home with joy,--resuming engraving for a livelihood Unfortunately for the family, the father died in 1811 Up to the time of his decease he appears to have had a steady and good business, having produced an immense number of sketches, coloured etchings, engravings, and designs produced in various modes, many of them in connection with the stage. At the time of his father's decease, the oldest son was twenty-two years of age, and George, the second son, nineteen. They were both well-advanced in their profession, and were quite capable of taking up and prosecuting their father's business connection. Previous to all this, there is no doubt that George began to draw when he was a mere child. Some of his productions of 1799 are still extant. "George's first playthings," says Mr. Bates "were the needle and the dabber;" but play insensibly merged into work, as he began to assist his hard-worked father. His earliest inclination, it is said, was to go to sea, but his mother opposed this. The earliest job in the way of etching, for which he was employed and received payment, was a child's lottery ticket. This was in 1804, when he was about twelve years of age. in 1805 he made a sketch of Nelson's funeral car, and whimsical etchings of the fashions of the day. His earliest signed work is dated two years later, and represents the demagogue Cobbett going to St. James's. His father's early death threw the lad on his own resources, and he quickly found that he must fight for a place in the world, as Fuseli told him he would have to do for a seat in the Academy. Anything that offered was acceptable--headings for songs and halfpenny ballads, illustrations for chap books, designs for nursery tales, sheets of prints for children--a dozen on the sheet and a penny the lot--vignettes for lottery tickets, rude cuts for broadsides, political squibs--all trivial records but now of the utmost rarity and value. While still very young, and before his father's decease, young George, with a view to becoming an Academy student, took specimens of his work to Fuseli for his inspection, when that, official told him that he would just have to "fight for his place," and at same time gave him permission to attend the lectures on painting. He attended two of the lectures and then stopped going, as his father held that if he was destined to be an artist he would become one without instruction, so that he never became a real student of that institution, nor had he a regular training in any way, so that his education, both so far as art and ordinary schooling was concerned, was very irregular and deficient. In fact, as a lad and young man he appeared to have been too full of animal spirits and too fond of sight-seeing to settle down to a hard course of study. The goings-on of the two brothers were severely condemned by their pious and strict mother. Occasionally she even went the length of castigating George when he returned home in the small hours from fairs and horse races, or the prize ring, and sometimes not quite sober. He is described at this early age as filled with a reckless love of adventure, emulating the exploits of Tom and Jerry, with wild companions. His field of observation extended from the foot of the gallows to Greenwich fair, through coal-holes, cider-cellars, cribs, and prize-fighters' taverns, Petticoat Lane, and Smithfield. Its centre was Covent Garden Market, where the young bloods drank, and sang, and fought under the piazzas in those days. Such was pretty much the sort of education the young men had, and luckily George had the sense and talent to turn it all to good account later on with his pencil. In course of time the artist was firmly established in business, and had numerous patrons among the publishers, some of whom were thriving to a considerable extent through Cruikshank's labours. After numerous isolated sketches, which brought him no small amount of fame, the first considerable series of designs by him appeared in Dr. Syntax's _Life of Napoleon_, consisting of thirty illustrations. Another long series was twenty-three illustrations to Pierce Egan's _Life_ in London. As also twenty-seven etchings to Grimm's _Popular Stories_. These were followed by numerous other lengthened series, such as _Mornings at Row Street, Three Courses and a Dessert, Punch and Judy, Gil Blas, My Sketch Book, Scott's Novels, Sketches by Boz, The Omnibus_, and very numerous others. In all, he appears to have produced the illustrations for no fewer than three hundred and twenty volumes, not to speak of an immense number of isolated sketches of all sorts. In 1847 and 1848 there came from his pencil his first direct and outspoken contribution to the cause of temperance in "The Bottle" and the "Drunkard's Children," although in some of his earlier designs he had satired the prevalent vice of drunkenness; he capped them all, however, in the eight plates of "The Bottle," in which he depicts the terrible downward march of degradation in the tragedy of an entire family, from the easy temptation of "a little drop" to the final murder of the wife. In "The Drunkard's Children," eight more plates, the remorseless moral is continued, the son becomes a thief, and dies in the hulks; the daughter, taking to the streets, ultimately throws herself over Waterloo Bridge. The two works had a great success. Moreover, they were dramatised in eight theatres at once, and were sold by tens of thousands. Hitherto Cruikshank had not been a strict abstainer, but now he became one with all the energy of his nature. In Cruikshank's later years he made a good many attempts at oil painting, and exhibited quite a number of paintings at the Royal Academy all with more or less success. But the larger and best known of these is the "Worship of Bacchus;" it is a work of inexhaustible detail and invention, and was received by the public with great favour; the size is 7 feet 8 inches high by 13 feet 3 inches long, and it is now in the National Gallery. However, to return to the affairs of the family. In time the brother Isaac Robert having got married, the whole family removed to King Street, Holborn. Soon afterwards the mother, George, and sister took a house in Claremont Square, Pentonville, at that period partially in the country. Later on, becoming married. George removed to Amwell Street, where he remained for thirty years. He afterwards resided in several suburban localities, but finally settled down at 263 Hampstead Road, where he died on the 1st of February, 1878, and in the following November his remains were finally deposited in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral. In person Cruikshank was a broad-chested man, rather below the middle height, with a high forehead, blue-grey eyes, a hook nose, and a pair of strong whiskers. In his younger days he had been an adept at boxing and all manly sports, as also an enthusiastic volunteer, ultimately becoming lieutenant-colonel of the 48th Middlesex Volunteers. He preserved his energy almost to the last day of his life. Even at eighty he was ready to dance a hornpipe, or sing a song, "he was," says one who knew him well, "a light hearted, merry, jolly old gentleman, full physically of humorous action and impulsive gesture, but in every word and deed a God-fearing, queen-honouring, truth-loving, honest man." The old school of caricaturists in which the names of Gilray, Rowlandson, Woodward, and Bunbury are most prominent, was noted chiefly for the broad, and in many cases, vulgar treatment of the subjects which were dealt with. The later school of caricaturists, in their mode of treating similar subjects, differed considerably from their predecessors. The leading member of the new school was George Cruikshank. He lived and worked during two generations, and may be considered as the connecting link between the old school and the new. At first Cruikshank to some extent followed Gilray and Rowlandson, but gradually fell off from their style of art, and in its stead produced work of a more serious and more artistic nature, which was the beginning of a new era in the history of caricature. His illustrations to innumerable works are of the highest order, and have made for him an everlasting reputation. 
44432	----	available by The Internet Archive FOUR HUNDRED HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS By George Cruikshank With Portrait and Biographical Sketch Second Edition London Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co Glasgow BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH GEORGE CRUIKSHANK was born in London on the 27th of September, 1792. His parents were of Scotch nationality. The father, namely, Isaac Cruikshank, was an artist by profession, having considerable skill in water-colour painting and etching. The mother was a Miss Macnaughten, of Perth, a _protégé_ of the Countess of Perth, and the possessor of a small sum of money. She was a person of energetic temper and strong will, and so thrifty that by saving she added considerably to her original pecuniary possession. She was also careful to bring up her children in a pious manner, being, along with them, a regular attendant at the Scotch Church in Crown Court, Drury Lane. The couple took up house in Duke Street, Bloomsbury, where two sons and one daughter were burn. The elder son was born in 1789, named Isaac Robert, and ultimately became an artist of considerable reputation, but of much less originality in character and design than his younger brother. George was born about three years later. In artistic work he struck out in a new line, and although the difference between his work and that of his father and brother was not in every case strongly marked, still it was always sufficient to enable experts to select the productions of the youngest from those of his two seniors, a distinctly new and original vein appearing in them from the first. While the three children were still quite young, the family removed to No. 117 Dorset Street, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, where the parents let a portion of the house to lodgers. Here the father continued to work on his plates, while his wife coloured them by hand, soon, however, obtaining help in that respect from her sons. The boys went to school at Mortlake, and afterwards to Edgeware, but not for long, so that they owed little to school masters. The elder brother went to sea, and not returning when expected, was supposed to be lost, and mourned for as such. But after three years he suddenly re-appeared, and was welcomed home with joy,--resuming engraving for a livelihood Unfortunately for the family, the father died in 1811 Up to the time of his decease he appears to have had a steady and good business, having produced an immense number of sketches, coloured etchings, engravings, and designs produced in various modes, many of them in connection with the stage. At the time of his father's decease, the oldest son was twenty-two years of age, and George, the second son, nineteen. They were both well-advanced in their profession, and were quite capable of taking up and prosecuting their father's business connection. Previous to all this, there is no doubt that George began to draw when he was a mere child. Some of his productions of 1799 are still extant. "George's first playthings," says Mr. Bates "were the needle and the dabber;" but play insensibly merged into work, as he began to assist his hard-worked father. His earliest inclination, it is said, was to go to sea, but his mother opposed this. The earliest job in the way of etching, for which he was employed and received payment, was a child's lottery ticket. This was in 1804, when he was about twelve years of age. in 1805 he made a sketch of Nelson's funeral car, and whimsical etchings of the fashions of the day. His earliest signed work is dated two years later, and represents the demagogue Cobbett going to St. James's. His father's early death threw the lad on his own resources, and he quickly found that he must fight for a place in the world, as Fuseli told him he would have to do for a seat in the Academy. Anything that offered was acceptable--headings for songs and halfpenny ballads, illustrations for chap books, designs for nursery tales, sheets of prints for children--a dozen on the sheet and a penny the lot--vignettes for lottery tickets, rude cuts for broadsides, political squibs--all trivial records but now of the utmost rarity and value. While still very young, and before his father's decease, young George, with a view to becoming an Academy student, took specimens of his work to Fuseli for his inspection, when that, official told him that he would just have to "fight for his place," and at same time gave him permission to attend the lectures on painting. He attended two of the lectures and then stopped going, as his father held that if he was destined to be an artist he would become one without instruction, so that he never became a real student of that institution, nor had he a regular training in any way, so that his education, both so far as art and ordinary schooling was concerned, was very irregular and deficient. In fact, as a lad and young man he appeared to have been too full of animal spirits and too fond of sight-seeing to settle down to a hard course of study. The goings-on of the two brothers were severely condemned by their pious and strict mother. Occasionally she even went the length of castigating George when he returned home in the small hours from fairs and horse races, or the prize ring, and sometimes not quite sober. He is described at this early age as filled with a reckless love of adventure, emulating the exploits of Tom and Jerry, with wild companions. His field of observation extended from the foot of the gallows to Greenwich fair, through coal-holes, cider-cellars, cribs, and prize-fighters' taverns, Petticoat Lane, and Smithfield. Its centre was Covent Garden Market, where the young bloods drank, and sang, and fought under the piazzas in those days. Such was pretty much the sort of education the young men had, and luckily George had the sense and talent to turn it all to good account later on with his pencil. In course of time the artist was firmly established in business, and had numerous patrons among the publishers, some of whom were thriving to a considerable extent through Cruikshank's labours. After numerous isolated sketches, which brought him no small amount of fame, the first considerable series of designs by him appeared in Dr. Syntax's _Life of Napoleon_, consisting of thirty illustrations. Another long series was twenty-three illustrations to Pierce Egan's _Life_ in London. As also twenty-seven etchings to Grimm's _Popular Stories_. These were followed by numerous other lengthened series, such as _Mornings at Row Street, Three Courses and a Dessert, Punch and Judy, Gil Blas, My Sketch Book, Scott's Novels, Sketches by Boz, The Omnibus_, and very numerous others. In all, he appears to have produced the illustrations for no fewer than three hundred and twenty volumes, not to speak of an immense number of isolated sketches of all sorts. In 1847 and 1848 there came from his pencil his first direct and outspoken contribution to the cause of temperance in "The Bottle" and the "Drunkard's Children," although in some of his earlier designs he had satired the prevalent vice of drunkenness; he capped them all, however, in the eight plates of "The Bottle," in which he depicts the terrible downward march of degradation in the tragedy of an entire family, from the easy temptation of "a little drop" to the final murder of the wife. In "The Drunkard's Children," eight more plates, the remorseless moral is continued, the son becomes a thief, and dies in the hulks; the daughter, taking to the streets, ultimately throws herself over Waterloo Bridge. The two works had a great success. Moreover, they were dramatised in eight theatres at once, and were sold by tens of thousands. Hitherto Cruikshank had not been a strict abstainer, but now he became one with all the energy of his nature. In Cruikshank's later years he made a good many attempts at oil painting, and exhibited quite a number of paintings at the Royal Academy all with more or less success. But the larger and best known of these is the "Worship of Bacchus;" it is a work of inexhaustible detail and invention, and was received by the public with great favour; the size is 7 feet 8 inches high by 13 feet 3 inches long, and it is now in the National Gallery. However, to return to the affairs of the family. In time the brother Isaac Robert having got married, the whole family removed to King Street, Holborn. Soon afterwards the mother, George, and sister took a house in Claremont Square, Pentonville, at that period partially in the country. Later on, becoming married. George removed to Amwell Street, where he remained for thirty years. He afterwards resided in several suburban localities, but finally settled down at 263 Hampstead Road, where he died on the 1st of February, 1878, and in the following November his remains were finally deposited in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral. In person Cruikshank was a broad-chested man, rather below the middle height, with a high forehead, blue-grey eyes, a hook nose, and a pair of strong whiskers. In his younger days he had been an adept at boxing and all manly sports, as also an enthusiastic volunteer, ultimately becoming lieutenant-colonel of the 48th Middlesex Volunteers. He preserved his energy almost to the last day of his life. Even at eighty he was ready to dance a hornpipe, or sing a song, "he was," says one who knew him well, "a light hearted, merry, jolly old gentleman, full physically of humorous action and impulsive gesture, but in every word and deed a God-fearing, queen-honouring, truth-loving, honest man." The old school of caricaturists in which the names of Gilray, Rowlandson, Woodward, and Bunbury are most prominent, was noted chiefly for the broad, and in many cases, vulgar treatment of the subjects which were dealt with. The later school of caricaturists, in their mode of treating similar subjects, differed considerably from their predecessors. The leading member of the new school was George Cruikshank. He lived and worked during two generations, and may be considered as the connecting link between the old school and the new. At first Cruikshank to some extent followed Gilray and Rowlandson, but gradually fell off from their style of art, and in its stead produced work of a more serious and more artistic nature, which was the beginning of a new era in the history of caricature. His illustrations to innumerable works are of the highest order, and have made for him an everlasting reputation. 
40320	----	MR. PUNCH AFLOAT PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: "MR. PUNCH AFLOAT"] * * * * * MR PUNCH AFLOAT THE HUMOURS OF BOATING AND SAILING [Illustration] AS PICTURED BY SIR JOHN TENNIEL, GEORGE DU MAURIER, JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL, LINLEY SAMBOURNE, G. D. ARMOUR, A. S. BOYD, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, AND OTHERS. PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. * * * * * THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. PUNCH AT THE HELM! (_By way of Introduction_) River and sea, with their teeming summer life as we know them in Great Britain and around our coasts, have yielded a rich supply of subjects for the pens and pencils of MR. PUNCH'S merry men. In Stevenson's famous story of "The Merry Men," it is the cruel side of the sea that is symbolised under that ironic description; but there is no touch of gall, no sinister undertone, in the mirth of MR. PUNCH'S "merry men." It may be protested that in the pages of this little book, where we have brought together for the first time all MR. PUNCH'S "happy thoughts" about boating and sailing, the miseries of travel by sea and the discomforts of holiday life on our inland waters are too much insisted upon. But it is as much the function of the humorist as it is the business of the philosopher to hold the mirror up to nature, and we are persuaded that it is no distorted mirror in which MR. PUNCH shows us to ourselves. After all, although as a nation we are proud to believe that Britannia rules the waves, and to consider ourselves a sea-going people, for the most of us our recollections of Channel passages and trips around our coasts are inevitably associated with memories of _mal-de-mer_, and it says much for our national good humour that we can turn even our miseries into jest. Afloat or ashore, MR. PUNCH is never "at sea," and while his jokes have always their point, that point is never barbed, as these pages illustrative of the humours of boating and sailing--with MR. PUNCH at the helm--may be left safely to bear witness. [Illustration] * * * * * MR. PUNCH AFLOAT 'ARRY ON THE RIVER [Illustration] DEAR CHARLIE, 'Ot weather at last! Wot a bloomin' old slusher it's bin, This season! But now it do look as though Summer was goin' to begin. Up to now it's bin muck and no error, fit only for fishes and frogs, And has not give a chap arf a chance like of sporting 'is 'oliday togs. Sech a sweet thing in mustard and pink, quite _reshershay_ I tell you, old man. Two quid's pooty stiff, but a buster and blow the expense is my plan; With a stror 'at and _puggeree_, Charlie, low shoes and new mulberry gloves. If I didn't jest fetch our two gals, it's a pity;--and wasn't they loves? We'd three chaps in the boat besides me,--jest a nice little party of six, But they didn't get arf a look in 'long o' me; they'd no form, them two sticks. If you'd seen me a settin' and steerin' with one o' the shes on each side, You'd a thought me a Turk in check ditters, and looked on your 'Arry with pride. Wy, we see a swell boat with three ladies, sech rippers, in crewel and buff, (If _I_ pulled arf a 'our in their style it 'ud be a bit more than enough) Well, I tipped 'em a wink as we passed and sez, "Go it, my beauties, well done!" And, oh lor! if you'd twigged 'em blush up you'd a seen 'ow they relished the fun. I'm dead filberts, my boy, on the river, it ain't to be beat for a lark. And the gals as goes boating, my pippin, is jest about "'Arry, his mark." If you want a good stare, you can always run into 'em--accident quite! And they carn't charge yer nothink for looking, nor put you in quod for the fright. 'Ow we chivied the couples a-spoonin', and bunnicked old fishermen's swims, And put in a Tommy Dodd Chorus to Methodys practisin' hymns! Then we pic-nic'd at last on the lawn of a waterside willa. Oh, my! When the swells see our bottles and bits, I've a notion some language'll fly. It was on the Q. T., in a nook snugged away in a lot of old trees, I sat on a bust of Apoller, with one of the gurls on my knees! Cheek, eh? Well, the fam'ly was out, and the servants asleep, I suppose; For they didn't 'ear even our roar, when I chipped orf the himage's nose. We'd soon emptied our three-gallon bottle, and Tommy he pulled a bit wild, And we blundered slap into a skiff, and wos jolly near drownding a child. Of course we bunked off in the scurry, and showed 'em a clean pair o' legs, Pullin' up at a waterside inn where we went in for fried 'am and eggs. We kep that 'ere pub all-alive-oh, I tell yer, with song and with chorus, To the orful disgust of some prigs as wos progging two tables afore us. I do 'ate your hushabye sort-like, as puts on the fie-fie at noise. 'Ow on earth can yer spree without shindy? It's jest wot a feller enjoys. Quaker-meetings be jiggered, I say; if you're 'appy, my boy, give it tongue. I tell yer we roused 'em a few, coming 'ome, with the comics we sung. Hencoring a prime 'un, I somehow forgot to steer straight, and we fouled The last 'eat of a race--such a lark! Oh, good lor', _'ow_ they chi-iked and 'owled! There was honly one slight _country-tong_, Tommy Blogg, who's a bit of a hass, Tried to splash a smart pair of swell "spoons" by some willers we 'appened to pass; And the toff ketched the blade of Tom's scull, dragged 'im close, and jest landed 'im _one_! Arter which Master Tom nussed his eye up, and seemed rayther out of the fun. Sez the toff, "You're the pests of the river, you cads!" Well, I didn't reply, 'Cos yer see before gals, it ain't nice when a feller naps one in the eye; But it's all bloomin' nonsense, my boy! If he'd only jest give _me_ a look, He'd a seen as _my_ form was O.K., as I fancy ain't easy mistook. Besides, I suppose as the river is free to all sorts, 'igh and low. That I'm sweet on true swells you're aweer, but for stuck-ups I don't care a blow. We'd a rare rorty time of it, Charlie, and as for that younger gurl, Carry, I'll eat my old boots if she isn't dead-gone on Yours bloomingly, 'ARRY. * * * * * [Illustration: MAKING THE BEST OF IT] * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS In punting, a good strong pole is to be recommended to the beginner.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RETURN OF THE WANDERER _Custom House Officer_ (_to sufferer_). "Now, sir, will you kindly pick out your luggage? It's got to be examined before you land."] * * * * * [Illustration: OUR YACHTING EXPERIENCES _Old "Salt" at the helm._ "Rattlin' fine breeze, gen'lemen." _Chorus of Yachtsmen_ (_faintly_). "Y--yes--d'lightful!"] * * * * * TO PYRRHA ON THE THAMES [Illustration] O Pyrrha! say what youth in "blazer" drest, Woos you on pleasant Thames these summer eves; For whom do you put on that dainty vest, That sky-blue ribbon and those _gigot_ sleeves? "_Simplex munditiis_," as Horace wrote, And yet, poor lad, he'll find that he is rash; To-morrow you'll adorn some other boat, And smile as kindly on another "mash." As for myself--I'm old, and look askance At flannels and flirtation; not for me Youth's idiotic rapture at a glance From maiden eyes: although it comes from thee. * * * * * THE EXCURSION SEASON.--_First Passenger_ (_poetical_). "Doesn't the sight o' the cerulean expanse of ocean, bearing on its bosom the white-winged fleets of commerce, fill yer with----" _Second Ditto._ "Fi---- not a bit of it." (_Steamer takes a slight lurch!_) "Quite the contrary!" [_Makes off abruptly!_ * * * * * [Illustration: "LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES" (Cheerful passage in the life of a Whitsuntide Holiday maker)] * * * * * MY RIVERSIDE ADWENTUR (_A Trew Fact as appened at Great Marlow on Bank Olliday_) [Illustration] I was setting one day in the shade, In the butifull month of August, When I saw a most butifull maid A packing of eggs in sum sawdust. The tears filled her butifull eyes, And run down her butifull nose, And I thort it was not werry wise To let them thus spile her nice close. So I said to her, lowly and gently, "Shall I elp you, O fair lovely gal?" And she ansered, "O dear Mr. Bentley, If you thinks as you can, why you shall." And her butifull eyes shone like dimans, As britely each gleamed thro a tear, And her smile it was jest like a dry man's When he's quenching his thirst with sum beer. Why she called me at wunce Mr. Bentley, I sort quite in wain to dishcover; Or weather 'twas dun accidently, Or if she took me for some other. I then set to work most discreetly, And packed all the eggs with great care; And I did it so nicely and neatly, That I saw that my skill made her stare. So wen all my tarsk was quite ended, She held out her two lilly hands, And shook mine, and thank'd me, and wended Her way from the river's brite sands. And from that day to this tho I've stayed, I've entirely failed to diskever The name of that brite dairy-maid As broke thirteen eggs by the river. ROBERT. * * * * * [Illustration: LOCKS ON THE THAMES _Sculler._ "Just half a turn of the head, love, or we shall be among the rushes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE STEAMER Old Mr. Squeamish, who has been on deck for his wrapper, finds his comfortable place occupied by a hairy mossoo!] * * * * * OTHERWISE ENGAGED! (_A Sentimental Fragment from Henley_) And so they sat in the boat and looked into one another's eyes, and found much to read in them. They ignored the presence of the houseboats, and scarcely remembered that there were such things as launches propelled by steam or electricity. And they turned deaf ears to the niggers, and did not want their fortunes told by dirty females of a gipsy type. "This is very pleasant," said Edwin. "Isn't it?" replied Angelina; "and it's such a good place for seeing all the events." "Admirable!" and they talked of other things; and the time sped on, and the dark shadows grew, and still they talked, and talked, and talked. At length the lanterns on the river began to glow, and Henley put on its best appearance, and broke out violently into fireworks. It was then Mrs. Grundy spied them out. She had been on the look out for scandal all day long, but could find none. This seemed a pleasant and promising case. "So you are here!" she exclaimed. "Why, we thought you must have gone long ago! And what do you say of the meeting?" "A most perfect success," said he. "And the company?" "Could not be more charming," was her reply. "And what did you think of the racing?" Then they looked at one another and smiled. They spoke together, and observed:-- "Oh, we did not think of the racing!" And Mrs. Grundy was not altogether satisfied. * * * * * [Illustration: OVERHEARD ON AN ATLANTIC LINER _She_ (_on her first trip to Europe_). "I guess you like London?" _He._ "Why, yes. I guess I know most people in London. I was over there last fall!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "VIDE UT SUPRA" "The sad sea waves"] * * * * * LEST MEN FORGET; _Or, A Girl's best Friend is the River_ [This is to be a river season. Father Thames is an excellent matchmaker.--_Lady's Pictorial._] Oh, what is a maid to do When never a swain will woo; When Viennese dresses And eddying tresses And eyes of a heavenly blue, Are treated with high disdain By the cold and the careless swain, When soft showered glances At dinners and dances Are sadly but truly vain? Ah, then, must a maid despair? Ah, no, but betimes repair With her magical tresses And summery dresses To upper Thames reaches, where She turns her wan cheek to the sun (Of lesser swains she will none); Her glorious flame, Well skilled in the game, Flings kisses that burn like fun And cheeks that had lost their charm Grow rosy and soft and warm; Eyes lately so dull Of sun-light are full As masculine hearts with alarm. For jealousy by degrees Steals over the swain who sees The cheek he was slighting Another delighting, And so he is brought to his knees. * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE UNIVERSITY BOAT-RACE _Extract from Miss X's letter to a friend in the country_:--"Mr. Robin Blobbs offered to take us in his boat. Aunt accepted for Jenny, Fanny, Ethel, little Mary, and myself. Oh, such a time! Mr. Blobbs lost his head and his scull, and we were just rescued from upset by the police. 'Never again with you, Robin!'"] * * * * * [Illustration] THE AMATEUR YACHTSMAN (_A Nautical Song of the Period_) I'm bad when at sea, yet it's pleasant to me To charter a yacht and go sailing, But please understand I ne'er lose sight of land, Though hardier sailors are railing. If only the ship, that's the yacht, wouldn't dip, And heel up and down and roll over, And wobble about till I want to get out, I'd think myself fairly in clover. But, bless you! my craft, though the wind is abaft, Will stagger when meeting the ripple, Until a man feels both his head and his heels Reversed as if full of his tipple. In vain my blue serge when from seas we emerge, Though dressed as a nautical dandy; I can't keep my legs, and I call out for "pegs" Of rum, or of soda and brandy. A yacht is a thing, they say, fit for a king, And still it is not to my liking; My short pedigree does not smack of the sea,-- I can't pose a bit like a viking. It's all very well when there isn't a swell, But when that comes on I must toddle And go down below, for a bit of a blow Upsets my un-nautical noddle. Britannia may rule her own waves,--I'm a fool To try the same game, but, believe me, Though catching it hot, yet to give up my "Yot" Would certainly terribly grieve me. You see, it's the rage, like the Amateur Stage, Or Coaching, Lawn-Tennis, or Hunting: So, though I'm so queer, I go yachting each year, And hoist on the Solent my bunting. * * * * * A HENLEY TOAST.--"May rivals meet without any sculls being broken!" * * * * * OF COURSE!--The very place for a fowl--Henley! * * * * * THE JOURNAL WHICH EVIDENTLY KEEPS THE KEY OF THE RIVER.--The _Lock to Lock Times_. * * * * * [Illustration: OF MALICE AFORETHOUGHT _Cheery Official._ "All first class 'ere, please?" _Degenerate Son of the Vikings_ (_in a feeble voice_). "_First class?_ Now do I _look it_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE" Next to the charming society, the best of the delightful trips on our friend's yacht is, that you get such an admirable view of the coast scenery, and you acquire such an excellent appetite for lunch.] * * * * * ROBERT ON THE RIVER [Illustration] It was ony a week or so ago as I was engaged perfeshnally on board a steam Yot that had been hired for about as jolly a party as I ewer remembers to have had on board a ship, and the Forreners among 'em had ewidently been brort for to see what a reel lovely River the Tems is. I must say I was glad to get away from Town, as I 'ad 'ad a shock from seeing a something dreadful on an old showcard outside of the Upraw which they tells me is now given up to Promenades. So we started from Skindel's, at Madenhed Bridge, and took 'em right up to Gentlemanly Marlow, and on to old Meddenham, and then to Henley, and lots of other butiful places, and then back to Skindel's to dinner. And a jolly nice little dinner they guv us, and sum werry good wine, as our most critical gests--and we had two Corporation gents among 'em--couldn't find not no fault with. But there's sum peeple as it ain't not of no use to try to sattisfy with butiful seenery--at least, not if they bees Amerrycains. They don't seem not to have the werry least hadmiration or respect for anythink as isn't werry big, and prefur size to buty any day of the week. "Well, it's a nice-looking little stream enuff," says an Amerrycain, who was a board a grinnin; "but it's really quite a joke to call it a River. Why, in my country," says he, "if you asked me for to show you a River, I should take you to Mrs. Sippy's, and when we got about harf way across it, I guess you'd see a reel River then, for it's so wide that you carn't see the land on either side of it, so you sees nothink else but the River, and as that's what you wanted for to see, you carn't werry well grumble then." I shood, most suttenly, have liked for to have asked him, what sort of Locks they had in sitch a River as that, and whether Mrs. Sippy cort many wales when she went out for a day's fishing in that little River of hers, but I knows my place, and never asks inconvenient questions. However, he was a smart sort of feller, and had 'em I must say werry nicely indeed a few minutes arterwards. We was a passing a werry butiful bit of the river called a Back Water, and he says, says he, "As it's so preshus hot in the sun, why don't we run in there and enjoy the shade for a time, while we have our lunch?" "Oh," says one of the marsters of the feast, "we are not allowed to go there; that's privet, that is." "Why how can that be?" says he, "when you told me, just now, as you'd lately got a Hact of Parliament passed which said that wherever Tems Water flowed it was open to all the world, as of course it ort to be." "Ah," said the other, looking rayther foolish, "but this is one of the xceptions, for there's another claws in the hact as says that wherever any body has had a hobstruction in the River for 20 years it belongs to him for hever, but he musn't make another nowheres." The Amerrycain grinned as before, and said, "Well, I allers said as you was about the rummiest lot of people on the face of the airth, and this is on'y another proof of it. You are so werry fond of everythink as is old, that if a man can show as he has had a cussed noosance for twenty years, he may keep it coz he's had it so long, while all sensible peeple must think, as that's one more reeson for sweeping the noosance clean away." And I must say, tho he was a Amerrycane, that I coodn't help thinking as he was right. It's estonishing what a remarkabel fine happy-tight a run on the butiful Tems seems to give heverybody, and wot an adwantage we has in that partickler respect over the poor Amerycans who gos for a trip on Mrs. Sippy's big River, with the wind a bloing like great guns, and the waves a dashing mountings hi. But on our butiful little steamer on our luvly little river, altho the gests had most suttenly all brekfasted afore they cum, why we hadn't started much about half-a-nour, afore three or fore on 'em came creeping down into the tite little cabin and asking for jest a cup of tea and a hegg or two, and a few shrimps; and, in less than a nour arterwards, harf a duzzen more on 'em had jest a glass or two of wine and a sandwich, and all a arsking that most important of all questions on bord a Tems Yot, "What time do we lunch?" And by 2 a clock sharp they was all seated at it, and pegging away at the Sammon and the pidgin pie, het settera, as if they was harf-starved, and ewen arter that, the butiful desert and the fine old Port Wine was left upon the table, and I can troothfully state that the cabin was never wunce quite empty till we was again doing full justice to Mr. Skindel's _maynoo_. ROBERT. * * * * * THE UNIVERSAL MOTTO AT HENLEY.--Open houseboat. * * * * * [Illustration: "EXEMPLI GRATIA" _Ancient Mariner_ (_to credulous yachtsman_). "A'miral Lord Nelson! Bless yer, I knowed him; served under him. Many's the time I've as'ed him for a bit o' 'bacco, as I might be a astin' o' you; and says he, 'Well, I ain't got no 'bacco,' jest as you might say to me; 'but here's a shillin' for yer,' says he"!!] * * * * * [Illustration: ABOVE BRIDGE BOAT AGROUND OFF CHISWICK _Gallant Member of the L.R.C._ "Can I put you ashore, mum?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND," &c. _Rescuer._ "Hold on a bit! I may never get a chance like this again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT.--DAVID COX REDIVIVUS!] * * * * * BO'SEN JAMES AND THE GREAT SEA-SARPINT [Illustration] Three bold sailormen all went a-sailin' Out into the Northern Sea, And they steered Nor'-West by three quarters West Till they came to Norwegee. They was three bold men as ever you'd see, And these was their Christian names: There was Long-legged Bill and Curly Dick, And the third was Bo'sen James;-- And they went to catch the Great Sea-Sarpint, Which they wished for to stop his games. [Illustration] Long-legged Bill was in the main-top a-watchin' For Sea-Sarpints, starn and grim, When through the lee-scupper bold Curly Dick peeped, And he says, says he, "That's him!" Then quick down the rattlins the long-legged 'un slid-- Which pale as a shrimp was he-- While Dick he rolled forrard into the cuddy, Where Bo'sen James happened to be, For James he was what you'd call the ship's cook, And he was a-makin' the tea. Then says Curly Dick, says he, "Bless my peepers!" (Which his words were not quite those) "Here's the Great Sea-Sarpint a-comin' aboard, With a wart upon his nose! Which his head's as big as the jolly-boat, And his mouth's as wide as the Thames, And his mane's as long as the best bower cable, And his eyes like blazin' flames-- And he's comin' aboard right through the lee-scupper!" "Belay there!" says Bo'sen James. Howsever, bold Bo'sen he went down to leeward, While Curly Dick shook with funk; And Long-legged Bill he hid in the caboose, A-yellin' "We'll all be sunk!" You might a'most heard a marlinspike drop As Bo'sen James he looked out. Then down through the scupper his head it went, And there came a tremenjous shout, "Sea-Sarpint be blowed, ye darned landlubbers! Who's left this here mop hangin' out?" [Illustration] * * * * * A WORD TO THE Y.'S AT HENLEY.--Try again; you will be Yale-fellow, well met! * * * * * HINTS FOR HENLEY (_At the Service of Visitors wishing to be comfortable_) Take care to be invited to the best situated houseboat. If you can, get permission to ask a few friends to join your host's party at luncheon. Be sure to secure the pleasantest seat, the most amusing neighbour, and all the periodicals. If you are conversationally inclined, monopolise the talk, and if you are not, plead a headache for keeping every one silent. Mind that "No. 1" is your particular numerical distinction, and that the happiness of the rest of the world is a negligible quantity. If you are a man, keep smoking cigars and sipping refreshing beverages until it is time to eat and drink seriously; if you are of the other sex, flirt, chatter, or sleep, as the impulse moves you. And when you are quite, _quite_ sure that you have nothing better to do, give a glance to the racing! * * * * * [Illustration: HOPE DEFERRED _Jones_ (_who is not feeling very well_). "How long did you say it would take us to get back?" _Boatman._ "'Bout 'n 'our an' a 'arf agin this tide."] * * * * * HOW TO ENJOY LIFE ON THE RIVER Get a houseboat and be sure that it is water-tight and free from rats and other unpleasant visitors. Take care that your servants have no objection to roughing it, and can turn their hands to anything usually supplied in town by the stores. Accustom yourself to food in tins and bottles, and learn to love insects with or without wings. Acclimatise yourself to mists and fogs and rainy days, and grow accustomed to reading papers four days old and the advertisements of out-of-date railway guides. Try to love the pleasures of a regatta. Do not quarrel with the riparian owners or the possessors of other houseboats. Enjoy the pleasantries of masked musicians, and take an intelligent interest in the racing. Illuminate freely, and do your best to avoid a fire or an explosion. And if you have fireworks, don't sort them out with the light of a blazing squib or some illuminant of a similar character. Be good, and mild and long-suffering. Rest satisfied with indifferently cooked food, damp sheets, and wearisome companions. And make the best of storms of rain and hurricanes of wind. In fact, bear everything, and grin when you can't laugh. _Another and a better way._--Put up at a comfortable riparian hotel, and when the weather is against you, run up to town and give a wide berth to the Thames and its miseries. * * * * * [Illustration: A STORY WITHOUT WORDS Freddy's first day at Henley] * * * * * NAUTICAL MANOEUVRES (_Described by a Landlubber_) _Sailing in the Wind's Eye._--In order to accomplish this difficult manoeuvre, you must first of all discover where the wind's eye is, and then, if it be practicable, you may proceed to sail in it. It is presumed for this purpose that the wind's eye is a "liquid" one. _Hugging the Shore._--When you desire to hug the shore, you first of all must land on it. Then take some sand and shingle in your arms, and give it a good hug. In doing this, however, be careful no one sees you, or the result of the manoeuvre may be a strait-waistcoat. _Wearing a Ship._--This it is by no means an easy thing to do, and it is difficult to suggest what will make it easier. Wearing a chignon is preposterous enough, but when a man is told that he must wear a ship, he would next expect to hear that he must eat the Monument. _Boxing the Compass._--Assume a fighting attitude, and hit the compass a "smart stinger on the dial-plate," as the sporting papers call it. But before you do so, you had best take care to have your boxing-gloves on, or you may hurt your fingers. _Whistling for a Wind._--When you whistle for a wind, you should choose an air appropriate, such as "_Blow, gentle gales_," or "_Winds, gently whisper_." _Reefing the Lee-scuppers._--First get upon a reef, and then put your lee-scuppers on it. The manoeuvre is so simple, that no more need be said of it. _Splicing the Main-brace._--When your main-brace comes in pieces, get a needle and thread and splice it. If it be your custom to wear a pair of braces, you first must ascertain which of them _is_ your main one. * * * * * A DELICATE HINT.--_Brighton Boatman._ "There's a wessel out there, sir, a labourin' a good deal, sir! Ah, sir, sailors works werry 'ard--precious 'ard lines it is for the poor fellers out there!--Precious hard it is for everybody just now. I know _I_ should like the price of a pint o' beer and a bit o' bacca!" * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--A quiet nook, five miles off anywhere. Jones has gone down to the punt to fetch up the luncheon-basket, and has dropped it overboard. PUZZLE.--What to do--or say?--except----] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHED" (Sketched on an excursion steamer)] * * * * * WHAT NO ONE SHOULD FORGET, IN CROSSING THE CHANNEL To place his rugs, carpet-bags, and umbrellas on the six best seats on the boat. To worry the captain with remarks about the state of the weather and the performance of the steamer: to observe to the steward that there is a change in the weather, and that there were more passengers the last time he crossed. To speak to the man at the wheel, and ask him whether there was much sea on last trip. To change his last half-crown into French money, and squabble with the steward as to the rate of exchange. To stare at his neighbours, read aloud their names on their luggage, and remark audibly that he'll lay anything the lady with the slight twang is an American. To repeat the ancient joke on "Back her! stop her!" If the passage is rough, to put his feet on his neighbour's head, after appropriating all the cushions in the cabin. To call for crockery in time. N.B.--Most important. To groan furiously for an hour and a half, if a sufferer; or, if utterly callous to waves and their commotions, to eat beef and ham, and drink porter and brandy-and-water, during the entire voyage, with as much clattering of forks and noise of mastication as is compatible with enjoyment. To kiss his hand, on entering the harbour, to the _matelottes_ on the quays, or send his love in bad French to the Prefect of Police. To struggle for a front place, in crowding off the steamer, as if the ship was on fire. And finally-- To answer every one who addresses him in good English in the worst possible French. * * * * * "What with the horse-boats," said Mrs. Ramsbotham, "the steam-lunches, the condolers, the out-ragers, the Canadian caboose, and the banyans, we had the greatest difficulty, at Henley, in getting from one side of the river to the other." * * * * * [Illustration: HOUSEBOAT AT THE ANCIENT HENLEIAN GAMES] * * * * * [Illustration: THE "CENTIPEDE" A new flexible, patent-jointed, vertebral outrigger. (Seen--and drawn--by our artist (the festive one), after an unusually scrumptious lunch on board a houseboat at Henley).] * * * * * [Illustration: THE INFLUENCE OF PLACES _Egeria._ "Surely, Mr. Swinson, it must have been here, and on such a day as this, that you wrote those lines that end-- "'Give me the white-maned steeds to ride, The Arabs of the main'----wasn't it?" _Mr. Swinson_ (_faintly_). "N-no. Reading party--half-way up Matterhorn!"] * * * * * THE SILVER TEMS! The butiful River's a-running to Town, It never runs up, but allers runs down, Weather it rains, or weather it snos; And where it all cums from, noboddy nose. The young swell Boatmen drest in white, To their Mothers' arts must be a delite; At roein or skullin the gals is sutch dabs, For they makes no Fowls and they ketches no Crabs. The payshent hangler sets in a punt, Willee ketch kold? I hopes as he wunt. I wotches him long, witch I states is fax, He dont ketch nothin but Ticklebacks. The prudent Ferryman sets under cover, Waiting to take me from one shore to t'other; I calls out "Hover!" and hover he roes, If he aint sober then hover we goes. When it's poring with rane and a tempest a-blowin, A penny don't seem mutch for this here rowin; And wen the River's as ruff as the Sea, I thinks of the two I'd sooner be me. For when I'm at work at Ampton or Lea, Waitin at dinner, or waitin at tea, I gits as much from a yewthful Pair As he gits in a day for all that there. Then let me bless my lucky Star That made me a Waiter and not a Tar; And the werry nex time I've a glass of old Sherry, I'll drink to the pore chap as roes that 'ere Ferry. ROBERT. * * * * * VERY LOW FORM ON THE PART OF FATHER THAMES. _Boy_ (_standing in mid-stream at Kew, to boating party_). "'Ere ye are! Tow ye up to Richmond Lock! All by water, sir!" * * * * * PUNCH'S NAVAL SONGSTER It is a well-known fact that the songs of Dibdin had a wonderful effect on the courage of the Navy, and there is no doubt that the Ben Blocks, Ben Backstays, Tom Tackles, and Tom Bowlings, were, poetically speaking, the fathers of our Nelsons, our Howes, our St. Vincents, and our Codringtons. It will be the effort of _Punch's Naval Songster_ to do for the Thames what Dibdin did for the Sea, and to inspire with courage those honest-hearted fellows who man the steamers on the river. If we can infuse a little spirit into them--which, by the bye, they greatly want--our aim will be fully answered. [Illustration] NO. I.--IT BLEW GREAT GUNS It blew great guns when Sammy Snooks Mounted the rolling paddles; He met the mate with fearful looks-- They shook each other's daddles. The word was given to let go, The funnel gave a screamer, The stoker whistled from below, And off she goes, blow high, blow low, The _Atalanta_ steamer. His native Hungerford he leaves, His Poll of Pedlar's Acre, Who now ashore in silence grieves Because he did not take her. There's a collision fore and aft; Against the pier they squeeze her. "Up boys, and save the precious craft, We from the station shall be chaff'd-- Ho--back her--stop her--ease her." Aha! the gallant vessel rights, She goes just where they want her; She nears at last the Lambeth lights, The trim-built _Atalantar_. Sam Snooks his messmates calls around; He speaks of Poll and beauty: When suddenly a grating sound Tells them the vessel's run aground While they forgot their duty. NO. II.--BEN BOUNCE. My name's Ben Bounce, d'ye see, A tar from top to toe, sirs. I'm merry, blithe and free, A marling-spike I know, sirs. In friendship or in love, I climb the top-sail's pinnacle, But in a storm I always prove My heart's abaft the binnacle. I fear no foreign foe, But cruise about the river; As up and down I go My timbers never shiver. When off life's end I get, I'll make no useless rumpus; But off my steam I'll let, And box my mortal compass. NO. III.--THE CAPTAIN'S ROUNDELAY. Away, away, we gaily glide Far from the wooden pier; And down into the gushing tide We drop the sailor's tear. On--with the strong and hissing steam, And seize the pliant wheel; Of days gone by I fondly dream, For oh! the tar _must_ feel! Quick, let the sturdy painter go, And put the helm a-port; Lay, lay the lofty funnel low, And keep the rigging taut. 'Tis true, my tongue decision shows, I act the captain's part; But oh! there's none on board that knows The captain's aching heart. Upon the paddle-box all day I've stood, and brav'd the gale, While the light vessel made her way Without a bit of sail. And as upon its onward flight The steamer cut the wave, My crew I've order'd left and right, My stout--my few--my brave! NO. IV.--TO MARY. Afloat, ashore, ahead, astern, With winds propitious or contrary. (I do not spin an idle yarn.) No--no, belay! I love thee, Mary. Amidships--on the Bentinck shrouds, Athwart the hawse, astride the mizen, Watching at night the fleecy clouds, Your Harry wishes you were his'n. Then let us heave the nuptial lead, In Hymen's port our anchors weighing; Thy face shall be the figure-head Our ship shall always be displaying. But when old age shall bid us luff, Our honest tack will never vary, But I'll continue Harry Bluff, And thou my little light-built Mary. * * * * * [Illustration: CUMULATIVE! _Tourist_ (_on Scotch steamer_). "I say, steward, how do you expect anybody to dry their hands on this towel? It's as wet as if it had been dipped in the sea!" _Steward._ "Aweel--depped or no depped, there's a hundred fouk hae used the toowl, and ye're the furrst that's grummelt!"] * * * * * [Illustration: The Margate excursion boat arrives at 2.30 P.M., after a rather boisterous passage. _Ticket Collector_ (_without any feeling_). "Ticket, sir! Thankye, sir! Boat returns at 3!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mothers Pet._ "Oh, there's ma on the beach, looking at us, Alfred; let's make the boat lean over tremendously on one side!"] * * * * * WATER-PARTIES (_By Mr. Punch's Vagrant_) Take four pretty girls And four tidy young men; Add papa and mamma, And your number is ten. Having ten in your party You'll mostly be eight, For you'll find you can count Upon two to be late. In the packing of hampers 'Tis voted a fault To be rashly forgetful Of corkscrew and salt. Take a mayonnaised lobster, A tasty terrine, A salmon, some lamb And a gay galantine. Take fizz for the lads, Claret-cup for the popsies, And some tartlets with jam So attractive to woppses. Let the men do the rowing, And all acquire blisters; While the boats go zigzag, Being steered by their sisters. Then eat and pack up And return as you came. Though your comfort was _nil_, You had fun all the same. * * * * * [Illustration: THOSE BROWNS AND THEIR LUMINOUS PAINT AGAIN] * * * * * "SIC TRANSIT----" Just starting down Southampton Water in jolly old Bigheart's yacht, _The Collarbone_--or _Columbine_? I wonder which it is? Dear old Bigheart, the best fellow in the world, and enthusiastic about yachting. So am I (theoretically, and whilst in smooth water). Try to act as nautically as possible, and ask skipper at frequent intervals "How does she bear?" Don't know what it means; but, after all, what _does_ that matter? Skipper stares at me rather helplessly, and mutters something about "Nothe-nor-east-by-sou-sou-west." Feel that, with this lucid explanation, I ought to be satisfied, so turn away, assume cheery aspect and with a rolling gait seize the topsail-main-gaff-mizen sheet and pull it lustily, with a "Yo, heave ho!" The pull, unfortunately, releases heavy block, which, falling on Bigheart's head, seems to quite annoy him for the minute. We plunge into Solent, and then bear away for West Channel. Skipper remarks that we shall make a long "retch" of it (_absit omen_). He then adds that we could "bring up"--why these unpleasantly suggestive nautical expressions?--off Yarmouth. Not wishing to appear ignorant, I ask Bigheart, "Why not make a course S.S. by E.?" He replies, "Because it would take us ashore into the R. V. Yacht Club garden," and I retire somewhat abashed. Out in West Channel we get into what skipper calls "a bit of a bobble." Don't think I care quite so much for yachting in "bobbles." Bigheart shows me all the varied beauties of the coast, but now they fail to interest me. He says, "I say, we'll keep sailing until quite late this evening, eh? That'll be jolly!" Reply, "Yes, that'll be jolly," but somehow my voice lacks heartiness. An hour later I was lying down--I felt tired--when Bigheart came up, and with a ring of joy in his manly tones exclaimed, "I tell you what, old man; we'll carry right on, now, through the night. We're not in a hurry, so we'll get as much sailing as we can." ... Then, with my last ounce of failing strength, I sat up and denounced him as an assassin. After passing a night indescribable, lying on the shelf--I mean berth--I was put ashore at Portland next morning. Should like to have procured dear old Bigheart a government appointment there for seven years, as a due reward for what he had been making me suffer. * * * * * SUITABLE SONG FOR BOATING MEN.--The last _rows_ of summer. * * * * * [Illustration: SAD RESULTS OF PERSISTENT BRIDGE PLAYING AT SEA _Owner._ "I'll 'eave it to you, partner!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Dibbles_ (_at Balham_). "Ah, the old Channel Tunnel scheme knocked on the head at last! Good job too! Mad-headed project--beastly unpatriotic too!"] [Illustration: _Mr. Dibbles_ (_en route for Paris. Sea choppy_.) "Channel Tunnel not a bad idea. Entire journey to Paris by train. Grand scheme! English people backward in these kind of things. Steward!" [_Goes below._ ] * * * * * MY YOT (_A Confidential Carol, by a Cockney Owner, who inwardly feels that he is not exactly "in it," after all_) What makes me deem I'm of Viking blood (Though a wee bit queer when the pace grows hot), A briny slip of the British brood? My Yot! What makes me rig me in curious guise? Like a kind of a sort of--I don't know what, And talk sea-slang, to the world's surprise? My Yot! What makes me settle my innermost soul On winning a purposeless silver pot, And walk with a (very much) nautical roll? My Yot! What makes me learned in cutters and yawls, And time-allowance--which others must tot--, And awfully nervous in sudden squalls? My Yot! What makes me sprawl on the deck all day, And at night play "Nap" till I lose a lot, And grub in a catch-who-can sort of a way? My Yot! What makes me qualmish, timorous, pale, (Though rather than own it I'd just be shot) When the _Fay_ in the wave-crests dips her sail? My Yot! What makes me "patter" to skipper and crew In a kibosh style that a child might spot, And tug hard ropes till my knuckles go blue? My Yot! What makes me snooze in a narrow, close bunk, Till the cramp my limbs doth twist and knot, And brave discomfort, and face blue-funk? My Yot! What makes me gammon my chummiest friends To "try the fun"--which I know's all rot-- And earn the dead-cut in which all this ends? My Yot! What makes me, in short, an egregious ass, A bore, a butt, who, not caring a jot For the sea, as a sea-king am seeking to pass? My Yot! * * * * * AT WHITBY.--_Visitor_ (_to Ancient Mariner, who has been relating his experiences to crowd of admirers_). "Then do you mean to tell us that you actually reached the North Pole?" _Ancient Mariner._ "No, sir; that would be a perwersion of the truth. But I seed it a-stickin' up among the ice just as plain as you can this spar, which I plants in the sand. It makes me thirsty to think of that marvellous sight, we being as it were parched wi' cold." [_A. M.'s distress promptly relieved by audience._ * * * * * [Illustration: THE DANGERS OF HENLEY _Voice from the bridge above._ "Oh, lor, Sarah, I've bin and dropped the strawberries and cream!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _His Fair Companion_ (_drowsily_). "I think a Canadian is the best river craft, after all, as it's less like _work_ than the others!"] * * * * * THE RULE OF THE RIVER (_As Deduced from a late Collision_) The rule of the river's a mystery quite, Other craft when you're steering among, If you starboard your helm, you ain't sure you are right, If you port, you may prove to be wrong. * * * * * "THE USUAL CHANNEL" To what snug refuge do I fly When glass is low, and billows high, And goodness knows what fate is nigh?-- My Cabin! Who soothes me when in sickness' grip, Brings a consolatory "nip," And earns my blessing, and his tip?-- The Steward! When persons blessed with fancy rich Declare "she" does not roll, or pitch. What say--"The case is hardly sich"?-- My Senses! What makes me long for _real_ Free Trade, When no Douaniers could invade. Nor keys, when wanted, be mislaid?-- My Luggage! What force myself, perhaps another, To think (such thoughts we try to smother) "The donkey-engine is our brother"?-- Our Feelings! And what, besides a wobbling funnel, Screw-throb, oil-smell, unstable gunwale, Converts me to a Channel Tunnel?-- My Crossing! * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY CATCHES A CRAB] * * * * * AT GORING Where is the sweetest river reach, With nooks well worth exploring, Wild woods of bramble, thorn and beech Their fragrant breath outpouring? Where does our dear secluded stream Most gaily gleam? At Goring. Where sings the thrush amid the fern? Where trills the lark upsoaring? Where build the timid coot and hern, The foot of man ignoring? Where sits secure the water vole Beside her hole? At Goring. Where do the stars dramatic shine 'Mid satellites adoring? And where does fashion lunch and dine _Al fresco_, bored and boring? Where do we meet confections sweet And toilets neat? At Goring. Where are regattas? Where are trains Their noisy crowds outpouring? And bands discoursing hackneyed strains, And rockets skyward soaring? Where is this _urbs in rure_?--where This Cockney Fair? At Goring. * * * * * [Illustration: NOTES FROM COWES "Call this pleasure? Well, all I say is, give me Staines and a fishing-punt!"] * * * * * [Illustration] NICE NIGHT AT SEA (_Extracts from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P._) _Gulf of Lyons, Friday._--The casual traveller on Continental railways, especially in France, is familiar with the official attitude towards the hapless wayfarer. The leading idea is to make the journey as difficult and as uncomfortable as possible. The plan is based on treatment of parcels or baggage. The passenger is bundled about, shunted, locked up in waiting-rooms, and finally delivered in a limp state at whatever hour and whatsoever place may suit the convenience of the railway people. Discover the same spirit dominant in management and arrangements of the sea service. Steamer from Marseilles to Tunis advertised to sail to-day at noon. On taking tickets, ordered to be on board at ten o'clock. Why two hours before starting? Gentleman behind counter shrugs his shoulders, hugs his ribs with his elbows, holds out his hands with deprecatory gesture and repeats, "_� dix heures, Monsieur_." Gestures even more eloquent than speech. Plainly mean that unless we are alongside punctually at ten o'clock our blood, or rather our passage, will be on our own heads. Spoils a morning; might have gone about town till eleven o'clock; breakfasted at leisure; sauntered on board a few minutes before noon. However, when in Marseilles chant the "_Marseillaise_." Down punctually at ten; found boat in course of loading; decks full of dirt and noise, the shouting of men, the creaking of the winch, the rattling of the chains. Best thing to do is to find our cabin, stow away our baggage, and walk on the quay, always keeping our eye on the boat lest she should suddenly slip her moorings and get off to sea without us. Look out for steward. Like the Spanish fleet, steward is not yet in sight. Roaming about below, come upon an elderly lady, with a lame leg, an alarming squint, and a waist like a ship's. (Never saw a ship's waist, but fancy no mortal man could get his arm round it.) The elderly lady, who displayed signs of asthma, tells me she is the stewardess. Ask her where is our cabin. "_Voilà_," she says. Following the direction of her glance, I make for a berth close by. Discover I had not made allowance for the squint; she is really looking in another direction. Carefully taking my bearings by this new light, I make for another passage; find it blocked up; stewardess explains that they are loading the ship--apparently through the floor of our cabin. "_Tout à l'heure_," she says, with comprehensive wave of the hand. Nothing to be done but leave our baggage lying about, go on deck, and watch the loading. Better not leave the ship. If the laborious Frenchmen in blouses and perspiration see our trunks, they will certainly pop them into the hold, where all kinds of miscellaneous parcels, cases and bales are being chucked without the slightest attempt at fitting in. A quarter to twelve; only fifteen minutes now; getting hungry; had coffee and bread and butter early so as not to miss the boat. Watch a man below in the hold trying to fit in a bicycle with a four-hundredweight bale, a quarter-ton case, and a barrel of cement. Evidently piqued at resistance offered by the apparently frail, defenceless contrivance. Tries to bend the fore wheel so as to accommodate the cask; that failing, endeavours to wind the hind wheel round the case; failing in both efforts, he just lays the bicycle loose on the top of the miscellaneous baggage and the hatch is battened down. In the dead unhappy night that followed, when the sea was on the deck, I often thought of the bicycle cavorting to and fro over the serrated ridge of the cargo. Ten minutes to twelve; a savoury smell from the cook's galley. Suppose _déjeuner_ will be served as soon as we leave the dock. Heard a good deal of superiority of French cooking aboard ship as compared with British. Some compensation after all for getting up early, swallowing cup of coffee and bread and butter, and rushing off to catch at ten o'clock a ship that sails at noon. Perhaps the cloth is laid now; better go and secure places. Find saloon. Captain and officers at breakfast, their faces illumined with the ecstasy born to a Frenchman when he finds an escargot on his plate. Evidently they are breakfasting in good time so as to take charge of the ship whilst _nous autres_ succeed to the pleasures of the table. What's our hour, I wonder? Find some one who looks like a steward; ask him; says, "_Cinq heures et demie_." A little late that for breakfast, I diffidently suggest. Explains not breakfast but dinner; first meal at 5.30 P.M. Can't we have _déjeuner_ if I pay for it? I ask, ostentatiously shaking handful of coppers in trousers-pocket. No, he says, severely; that's against the _règlement_. Steamer starts in seven minutes; noticed at dock-gates women with baskets of dubious food; dash off to buy some; clutch at a plate of sandwiches, alleged to be compacted of _jambon de York_. Get back just as gangway is drawn up. Sit on deck and munch our sandwiches. "I know that Ham," said Sark, moodily. "It came out of the Ark." Recommitted it to the waves, giving it the bearings for Ararat. Ate the bread and wished half-past five or Blucher would come. * * * * * A lovely day in Marseilles; not a breath of wind stirred the blue water that laved the white cliffs on which Château d'If stands. Shall have a lovely passage. Make ourselves comfortable on deck with cushions and books. Scarcely outside the harbour when a wind sprang up from S.E. dead ahead of us. The sea rose with amazing rapidity; banks of leaden-hued clouds obscured the sun-light; then the rain swished down; saloon deck cleared; passengers congregated under shelter in the saloon; as the cranky little steamer rolled and pitched, the place emptied. When at 5.30 the dinner-bell rang, only six took their places, and all declined soup. With the darkness the storm rose. If the ship could have made up its mind either to roll or to pitch, it could have been endured. It had an agonising habit of leaping up with apparent intent to pitch, and, changing its mind, rolling over, groaning in every plank. Every third minute the nose of the ship being under water, and the stern clear out, the screw leaped full half-length in the air, sending forth blood-curdling sounds. Midway came a fearsome crash of crockery, the sound reverberating above the roar of the wind, and the thud of the water falling by tons on the deck, making the ship quiver like a spurred horse. "I begin to understand now," said Sark, "how the walls of Jericho fell." Much trouble with the Generalissimo. When he came aboard at Marseilles he suffused the ship with pleasing sense of the military supremacy of Great Britain. Has seen more than seventy summers, but still walks with sprightly step and head erect. The long droop of his carefully-curled iron-grey moustache is of itself sufficient to excite terror in the bosom of the foe. The Generalissimo has not the word retreat in his vocabulary. He was one of the six who to-night sat at the dinner-table and deftly caught scraps of meat and vegetable as the plates flew past. But after dinner he collapsed. Thought he had retired to his berth; towards nine o'clock a faint voice from the far end of the cabin led to discovery of him prone on the floor, where he had been flung from one of the benches. We got him up, replaced him tenderly on the bench, making a sort of barricade on the offside with bolsters. A quarter of an hour later the ship gave a terrible lurch to leeward; the screw hoarsely shrieked; another batch of crockery crashed down; above the uproar, a faint voice was heard moaning, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" We looked at the bench where we had laid the Generalissimo, his martial cloak around him. Lo! he was not. Guided by former experience, we found him under the table. Evidently no use propping him up. So with the cushions we made a bed on the floor, and the old warrior securely slept, soothed by the swish of the water that crossed and recrossed the cabin floor as the ship rolled to leeward or to starboard. When the Generalissimo came aboard at Marseilles, surveying the fortifications of the harbour as if he intended storming them, his accent suggested that if not of foreign birth, he had lived long in continental courts and camps. Odd to note how, as his physical depression grew, an Irish accent softened his speech, till at length he murmured of misery in the mellifluous brogue of County Cork. Pretty to see the steward when the flood in the saloon got half a foot deep ladle it out with a dustpan. _Tunis, Monday_, 1 A.M.--Just limped in here with deck cargo washed overboard, bulwarks stove in, engine broken down, an awesome list to port, galley so clean swept the cook doesn't know it, the cabins flooded, and scarce a whole bit of crockery in the pantry. Twenty-one hours late; not bad on a thirty-six-hours' voyage. Captain comforts us with assurance that having crossed the Mediterranean man and boy for forty years, he never went through such a storm. Have been at sea a bit myself; only once, coasting in a small steamer off Japan, have I seen--or, since it was in the main pitch dark, felt--anything like it. Generalissimo turned up at dinner last night, his moustache a little draggled, but his port once more martial. His chief lament is, that going down to his berth yesterday morning, having spent Friday night in the security of the saloon floor, he found his boots full of water. This brings out chorus of heartrending experience. Every cabin flooded; boxes and portmanteaus floating about. Sark and I spent a more or less cosy night in the saloon. To us entered occasionally one of the crew ostentatiously girt with a life-belt. Few incidents so soothing on such a night. Fortunately, we did not hear till entering port how in the terror of the night two conscripts, bound for Bizerta, jumped overboard and were seen no more. "If this is the way they usually get to Tunis," says Sark, "I hope the French will keep it all to themselves. In this particular case, there is more in the Markiss's 'graceful concession' than meets the eye." * * * * * RIVER GAMBLING.--"Punting," says the _Daily News_, "has become a very fashionable form of amusement on the Upper Thames." So it is at Monte Carlo. Punting is given up by all who find themselves in hopelessly low water. * * * * * LIVE WHILE YOU MAY.--_Timid Passenger_ (_as the gale freshened_). "Is there any danger?" _Tar_ (_ominously_). "Well, them as likes a good dinner had better hev it to-day!" * * * * * SATISFACTORY.--We are glad to be able to report that the gentleman who one day last week, while walking on the bank of the Thames near Henley, fell in with a friend, is doing well. His companion is also progressing favourably. * * * * * [Illustration: TOO SOLID _Skipper._ "Did ye got the proveesions Angus?" _Angus._ "Ay, ay! A half loaf, an' fouer bottles o' whiskey." _Skipper._ "An' what in the woarld will ye be doin' wi' aal that bread?"] * * * * * [Illustration: RESIGNATION _Sympathetic Old Gentleman._ "I'm sorry to see your husband suffer so, ma'am. He seems very----" _Lady Passenger_ (_faintly_). "Oh dear! He isn't my husband. 'Sure I don't know who the ge'tleman is!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A FLIGHT OF FANCY _Visitor._ "Good morning: tide's very high this morning, eh?" _Ancient Mariner._ "Ar, if the sea was all _beer_, there wouldn' be no bloomin' 'igh tides!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A QUESTION OF HOSPITALITY AT HENLEY "Unbidden guests are often welcomest when they are gone."--_Shakespeare._] * * * * * [Illustration: A DELICIOUS SAIL--OFF DOVER _Old Lady._ "Goodness gracious, Mr. Boatman! What's that?" _Stolid Boatman._ "That, mum! Nuthun, mum. Only the Artillery a prac-_ti_-sin', and that's one o' the cannon balls what's just struck the water!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: POOR HUMANITY! _Bride._ "I think--George, dear--I should--be better--if we walked about----" _Husband_ (_one wouldn't have believed it of him_). "You can do as you like, love. I'm very well (!) as I am!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Intelligent Foreigner._ "I am afraid zey are not much use, zeze grand works of yours at Dovaire. Vot can zey do against our submarines?--our leetle Gustave Zêde? Ah, ze submarine e' is mos terrible, an' ze crews also--ze matelots--zey are 'eroes! Vy, every time zey go on board of him zey say goodbye to zer vives an' families!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A TRYING MOMENT _Doris._ "Oh, Jack, here come those Sellerby girls! Do show them how beautifully you can punt."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE HEIGHT OF IMPROPRIETY _Miss Grundison, Junior._ "There goes Lucy Holroyd, all alone in a boat with young Snipson, as usual! So imprudent of them!" _Her Elder Sister._ "Yes; how shocking if they were upset and drowned--without a chaperon, you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOCAL OPTION _Captain of Clyde steamer_ (_to stoker, as they sighted their port_). "Slack awee, Donal', slack awee"--(_he was interested in the liquors sold_)--"they're drencken haurd yenoo!!"] * * * * * 'ARRY ON A 'OUSE-BOAT [Illustration] Dear Charlie,--It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a bust; Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' thust. Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday still; So I'll pull out my _eskrytor_, Charlie, and give you a touch of my quill. If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear old pal; Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal. Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. Well, it's true; But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do? Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster--I did 'ope you'd shove in your oar. We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour. 'Ad a invite to 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, yer know, Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let things go. Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip? Wish you could 'ave seen us--and heard us--old boy, when aboard of our ship. Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot, And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot. My blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone wrong! I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed midd-lingish strong. 'Emmy 'Opkins, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe, Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy blue. [Illustration] Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss Emmy; but that's only jest by the way, 'Arry ain't one to brag of _bong jour tunes_; but wot I wos wanting to say Is about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our sort. Bosh! Charlie, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to spile sport. Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the strictest Q. T. Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of spree, Wy, it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the dithreums it do. I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's blue. Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace, Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames banks with perlice; Who sneer about "'Arry at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course," As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm 'oarse! Scrap o' sandwich-greased paper 'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or "Bass," Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the grass, Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies they are! Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart banjo-twang makes 'em jar. I'm toffy, you know, and no flies, Charlie; swim with the swells, and all that, But _I_'m blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical rat. "Riparian rights," too! Oh scissors! They'd block the backwaters and broads, Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old Burns busts their 'oards! Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's Dannel the Dosser, old chap, As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf a rap-- Knows it's all Cooper's ducks with _him_, Charlie; won't run to a pint o' four 'arf, And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his charf. Sez Dannel--and dash his darned cheek, Charlie!--"Monkeys like you"--meaning _Me_!-- "Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spree Is all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an excuse For exclusiveness, finds it in _you_, you contemptible coarse-cackling goose! "Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course; But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it force. You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you befoul; You--_you_, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday howl! "Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on their lawns, And 'Arry's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns; You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene, And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red through her green. "You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from Oxford or Bow, You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when you row; Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport, And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'Arry's resort. "Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice; There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice, You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!" I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than arf Of his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf. But the cheek on it, Charlie! A Stone-broke! I _should_ like to give him wot for, Only Dannel the Dosser's a dab orf of whom 'tain't so easy to score. But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late-- Us on 'Opkins's 'ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate." _I_ mean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, that's flat. If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll eat my old 'at. Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat coke. These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow joke, The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better fun, And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun. As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the front; But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'ouse-boat, or four-oar, or punt, Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'Opkins's lot, Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick; _they_ ain't stashed by no ink-spiller's rot. Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my dear boy, Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man must enjoy, And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I can carry, It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on 'Arry. * * * * * "JAM" NON "SATIS." (_A Lay of Medmenham, by a Broken-hearted Boating Man landing from the Thames, who was informed that, by the rules of the Hotel, visitors were not allowed jam with their tea if served in the garden._) There's a river hotel that is known very well, From the turmoil of London withdrawn, Between Henley and Staines, where this strange rule obtains-- That you must not have jam on the lawn. In the coffee-room still you may eat what you will, Such as chicken, beef, mutton, or brawn, Jam and marmalade too, but, whatever you do, Don't attempt to eat jam on the lawn. Young Jones and his bride sought the cool river side, And she said, as she skipped like a fawn, "As it _is_, it is nice, but 'twould be paradise, Could we only have jam on the lawn!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE THAMES (Development of the houseboat system)] * * * * * [Illustration: "DOWN IN THE DEEP" Fun at Henley Regatta. Bertie attempts to extricate his punt from the crowd.] * * * * * [Illustration: "I say, you girls, we shall be over in a second, and if you can't swim better than you punt, I'm afraid I shan't be able to save both of you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A PLEDGED M.P. (1869). _M.P.'s Bride._ "Oh! William, dear--if you are--a Liberal--do bring in a Bill--next Session--for that underground tunnel!!"] * * * * * THE YACHTING SEASON (_Examination for a Master's Certificate_) 1. Can you dance a hornpipe? If so, which? (_Vivâ voce._) If dancing unaccompanied by fiddle, whistle the first eight bars of College Hornpipe. Also, dance the three first figures of the hornpipe, announcing the distinctive name of each beforehand. 2. Explain the terms "Ahoy!" "Avast!" "Belay!" Whence derived? Also of "Splice my main-brace." Is "main-brace" a part of rigging, or of sailor's costume? Which? If neither, what? Is "Lubber" a term of opprobrium or of endearment? State varieties of "Lubber." Give derivations of the terms "Bum-boat woman," "Marlin' spike," "Son of a sea-cook," "Dash my lee-scuppers!" "Pipe your eye," "Tip us your grapplin' iron." 3. How many mates may a sea captain legally possess at any one time? 4. Is "sextant" the feminine of "sexton"? 5. How often do "the red magnetic pole" and "the blue pole" require repainting? At whose expense is the operation performed? 6. Are only Royal Academicians eligible as "painters" on board? 7. Is it the duty of the surgeon on board ship to attend the "heeling"? 8. In case the needles of the compass get out of order, will pins do as well? 9. At what time in the day, whether previous or subsequent to dinner, is it necessary to "allow for deviations"? 10. Draw a picture of "Three Belles." Give classic illustration from the story of Paris. 11. What rule is there as to showing lights on nearing Liverpool? 12. When in doubt, would you consult "the visible horizon," "the sensible horizon," or "the rational horizon"? Give reason for your selection. 13. Can sailors ever trust "the artificial horizon"? If so, under what circumstances? 14. Is "Azimuth" an idol, or something to eat? 15. Would "mean time" always refer to lowering wages or diminishing rations? 16. Presuming you know all about the "complement of an arc," explain that of Noah's. 17. Who was "Parallax"? Give a brief sketch of his career. 18. Give example of "meridian altitude of a celestial object," by drawing a picture of the Chinese giant who was over here some time ago. 19. Give history of "the Poles." Who was Kosciusko? Is this spelling of his name correct? 20. "Civil time." Illustrate this term from English history. 21. Can a "first mate's ordinary certificate" be granted by Doctors' Commons or the Archbishop of Canterbury? (_On these questions being satisfactorily answered, the next Examination Paper will be issued._) * * * * * [Illustration: THAMES TRAGEDIES Jones says there is only one _really_ safe way of changing places in a skiff!] * * * * * [Illustration: DE GUSTIBUS, ETC. _Philosophical Sea-faring Party_ (_who manages our friend's yacht_). "Well, ladies and genelmen, I s'pose this is what _you_ calls _pleasure_, and comes all the way from London for?" [_Brown, the funny man, with the eye-glass, thinks it an _Idyachtic_ kind of pleasure, but is actually too far gone to say so._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: "Nice piece o' biled mutton, sir?"] * * * * * [Illustration] I'M AFLOAT (_Mr. Punch in the Ocean on the broad of his back, singeth_) I'm afloat, I'm afloat, what matters it where? So the devils don't know my address, I don't care. Of London I'm sick, I've come down to the sea, And let who will make up next week's number for me! At my lodgings, I know, I'm done frightfully brown, And e'en lobsters and shrimps cost me more than in town; I've B. flats in my bed, and my landlady stern, Says from London I've brought 'em to give her a turn. Yet I'm happier far in my dear seaside home, Than the Queen on Dee side, or Art-traveller in Rome; A Cab-horse at grass would be nothing to me, On the broad of my back floating free, floating free! On the broad of my back floating free, floating free! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha! With the lodging-house-keepers all day on the bite, And the insects I spoke of as hungry at night, With the organs "_Dog-traying_" and "_Bobbing Around_," And extra-size Crinolines sweeping the ground, You may think _Mr. Punch_ might be apt to complain That the seaside's but Regent Street over again: But from devils and copy and proof-sheets set free, I've a week to do nothing but bathe in the sea. In steamers and yachts I've been rocked on its breast, And didn't much like it, it must be confessed; But a cosy machine and shoal water give me, And there let me float--let me float and be free! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha! (1858) * * * * * THAMES WEATHER Come, George, give your clubs and your Haskells a rest, man: You can't spend the whole of your lifetime in golf; If it pleases your pride I'll admit you're the best man That ever wore scarlet or teed a ball off; I'll allow they can't match you in swinging or driving, That your shots are as long as they always are true, And I'll grant that what others effect after striving For years on the green comes by nature to you. [Illustration] But the sun's in the sky, and the leaves are a-shiver With a soft bit of breeze that is cool to the brow; And I seem to remember a jolly old river Which is smiling all over--I think you know how. There are whispers of welcome from rushes and sedge there, There's a blaze of laburnum and lilac and may; There are lawns of close grass sloping down to the edge there; You can lie there and lounge there and dream there to-day. There are great spreading chestnuts all ranged in their arches With their pinnacled blossoms so pink and so white; There are rugged old oaks, there are tender young larches, There are willows, cool willows, to chequer the light. Each tree seems to ask you to come and be shaded-- It's a way they all have, these adorable trees-- And the leaves all invite you to float down unaided In your broad-bottomed punt and to rest at your ease. And then, when we're tired of the _dolce far niente_, We'll remember our skill in the grandest of sports, Imagine we're back at the great age of twenty, And change our long clothes for a zephyr and shorts. And so, with a zest that no time can diminish, We will sit in our boat and get forward and dare, As we grip the beginning and hold out the finish, To smite the Thames furrows afloat in a pair. * * * * * [Illustration: AQUATICS--WHEN THE BEES ARE SWARMING] * * * * * [Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS It is quite a mistake to suppose that Henley Regatta was not anticipated in earliest times.] * * * * * [Illustration] ON THE RIVER I sat in a punt at Twickenham, I've sat at Hampton Wick in 'em. I hate sea boats, I'm sick in 'em-- The man, I, Tom, and Dick in 'em. Oh, gentles! I've been pickin 'em. For bait, the man's been stickin 'em (Cruel!) on hooks with kick in 'em The small fish have been lickin 'em. And when the hook was quick in 'em, I with my rod was nickin 'em, Up in the air was flickin 'em. My feet so cold, kept kickin 'em. We'd hampers, with _aspic_ in 'em, Sandwiches made of chicken, 'em We ate, we'd stone jars thick, in 'em Good liquor; we pic-nic-ing 'em Sat: till our necks a rick in 'em We turned again t'wards Twickenham. And paid our punts, for tickin 'em They don't quite see at Twickenham. * * * * * [Illustration: THE ART OF CONVERSATION _British Tourist_ (_to fellow-passenger, in mid-Channel_). "Going across, I suppose?" _Fellow-Passenger._ "Yaas. Are you?"] * * * * * THE CHANNEL BAROMETER _Very fair._--Really delightful. Nothing could be pleasanter. Sunshine. Ozone. Does everyone a world of good. Would not miss such a passage for worlds. _Fair._--Yes; it is decidedly an improvement upon a railway carriage. Room to move about. I don't in the least mind the eighty odd minutes. If cold, you can put on a wrap, and there you are. _Change._--Always thought there was something to be said in favour of the Channel Tunnel. Of course, one likes to be patriotic, but the movement in a choppy sea is the reverse of invigorating. _Wind._--There should be a notice when a bad passage is expected. It's all very well to describe this as "moderate," but that doesn't prevent the beastly waves from running mountains high. _Stormy._--It is simply disgraceful. Would not have come if I had known. Too depressed to say anything. Where is the steward? _Gale._--Why--was--I--ever--born? * * * * * [Illustration: EUPHEMISM _Man in Boat._ "Come along, old chap, and let's pull up to Marlow." _Man on Shore._ "I think I'll get you to excuse me, old man. I don't like sculling--it--er--hurts the back of my head so!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A CRISIS _His Better and Stouter Half._ "Oh, Charley, if we're upset, you mean to say you expect me to get into _this_?" [_Horror-stricken husband has no answer ready._ ] * * * * * LOVE ON THE OCEAN They met, 'twas in a storm, On the deck of a steamer; She spoke in language warm, Like a sentimental dreamer. He spoke--at least he tried; His position he altered; Then turn'd his face aside, And his deep-ton'd voice falter'd. She gazed upon the wave, Sublime she declared it; But no reply he gave-- He could not have dared it. A breeze came from the south, Across the billows sweeping; His heart was in his mouth, And out he thought 'twas leaping. "O, then, Steward," he cried, With the deepest emotion; Then tottered to the side, And leant o'er the ocean. The world may think him cold, But they'll pardon him with quickness, When the fact they shall be told, That he suffer'd from sea-sickness. * * * * * [Illustration: PUNCH'S ILLUSTRATIONS TO SHAKSPEARE "_Richmond_ is on the seas." _Richard III., Act iv., Scene 4._] * * * * * LECTURES ON YACHTING _By_ PROFESSOR AQUARIUS BRICK We were present when the accomplished Professor Brick recently delivered a series of lectures on yachting, which were very well attended. By his kind permission, we have preserved bits of the discourses here and there. We extract, _à discrétion_:-- "I come now," went on the Professor, "to your most important yachters--your genuine swells. Their cutters are in every harbour; you trace their wake by empty champagne bottles on every sea. To such dandy sea-kings I would now say one word. "About your choice of cruising ground you cannot have much difficulty. The Mediterranean is your proper spot. It is true that we will not tolerate its being made a French lake--its proper vocation is that of English pond! "I would advise you all to be very particular in not letting your 'skipper' have too much authority. Remember always, that _you are the owner_--high-spirited gentlemen do. Surely a man may sail his own yacht, if anybody may! It is as much his property as his horse is. To be sure, when the weather is very bad, I would let the fellow take charge then. There is a very odd difference between the Bay of Biscay and the water inside the Isle of Wight, when it blows. And a skipper _too much snubbed_ gets rusty at awkward times. "Your conduct in harbour will be regulated by circumstances--which means, dinners. Generally speaking, the fact of having a yacht will carry you everywhere. As every aëronaut is 'intrepid' by courtesy, so every yachtsman is a 'fashionable arrival.' This great truth is scarcely enough appreciated in England. I have known very worthy men spend in trying to get into great society in London, sums which, judiciously invested _in a yacht_, would have taken them to dozens of great people's houses abroad. You will get asked to dinner; you will be feasted well, generally. Anything in the way of excitement--particularly good, rich, hospitable excitement--is heartily welcome in our colonial settlements and stations. "But I am not now speaking only to those who yacht, because to have a yacht is a fine thing. I recognise also an imperial class of yachtsmen--the swans of the flock of geese. I have seen a coronet on a binnacle, before now. I have seen a large stately schooner sail into a Mediterranean port--as into a drawing-room--splendid and serene. The harbour-master's boat is on the alert these mornings. The men-of-war send their boats to tow; the dandiest lieutenant goes in the barge; the senior captain offers his services. When such a yacht as that goes into the Golden Horn, the Sultan is shown to these yachters--like any curiosity in his capital--like any odd thing in his town! They are presented to him, as it is called, that _he_ may be looked at. "To this magnificent class I have not much to say. They don't snub their skipper--they are far too fine to do that. They are scarcely distinctive as travellers, for they are the same abroad as at home. In them, England is represented. England floats in a lump through the sea, like Delos used to do. As they say and do just the same as they have always said and done at home--see and mix with the same kind of people--I often wonder what they learn by it. When they go to visit Thermopylæ or Marathon, it is with a lot of tents, donkeys, camp-stools, travelling-cases, guides, and servants--such as Xerxes might have had. They encumber the ruins of temples with the multitude of their baggage. The position seems so unnatural, that I can't fancy their getting any moral or intellectual profit from it. They are too well off for that--like a fellow who cannot see for fat. Depend on it, you cannot see much through a painted window, however fine it is." Professor Brick concluded his first sketch amidst much applause. * * * * * [Illustration: HOW VERY THOUGHTFUL _Old Lady._ "Are you not afraid of getting drown'd when you have the boat so full?" _Boatman._ "Oh, dear, no, mum. I always wears a life-belt, so I'm safe enough."] * * * * * [Illustration: STANCH! _Complaisant Uncle_ (_who has remembered his nephew in his will, and is up to his ankles in water_). "I say, John, do you know your boat leaks?" _Nephew_ (_high and dry on the thwarts_). "Like old boots!" _Uncle._ "But I---- What's to be done?" _Nephew._ "Wait till she fills, and then put on a spurt for the shore!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MASTER JOHN BULL IN TROUBLE (1851) _Mr. Punch._ "Why, Johnny, what's the matter?" _Johnny._ "If you please, sir, there's a nasty ugly American been beating me."] * * * * * [Illustration: SERVING HIM OUT _Mrs. T._ (_to T._) "Feel a little more comfortable, dear? Can I get anything else for you? Would you like your cigar case now? (_Aside._) I'll teach him to go out to Greenwich and Richmond without me, and sit up half the night at his club!"] * * * * * TO A COUPLE OF THAMES NAIADS Row, ladies, row! It will do you good: Pleasant the stream under Cliefden Wood: When our skiff with the river drops down again, Glad you will be of some iced champagne. O, a boat on the river is doubly dear When you've nothing to do but adore and steer. Row, darlings, row! Whether stroke or bow Is sweeter to look at, better to row, Is a question that plagues not me, as I laze, And on their graceful movement gaze. 'Tis the happiest hour of the sultry year: The swift oars twinkle; I smoke and steer. Row, beauties, row! 'Tis uncommon hot: I _can_ row stroke, but I'd rather not. As we meet the sunset's afterglow, Two absolute angels seem to row; Wingless they are, so of flight no fear-- Home to dinner I mean to steer. * * * * * [Illustration: _Father Thames_ (_to Henley Naiads_). "Don't be alarmed, my dears. If he comes within our reach, I'll soon settle his business!" ["The G. W. R. Company must have known that their contemplated line from Marlow to Henley would raise a storm of opposition against any interference with the Thames at spots so sacred to all oarsmen."--_Vide "A Correspondent" in "Times."_] ] * * * * * ON THE RIVER (_Page from the Diary of a Sweet Girl Clubbist_) _Monday._--Very pleased I have been chosen for the boat. So glad to have been taken before Amy and Blanche. I am sure I shall look better than either of them. They needn't have been so disagreeable about it. Amy asking for her racquet back, and Blanche refusing to lend me her cloak with the feather trimmings. Fanny should make a first-rate stroke, and Kate a model coach. _Tuesday._--We were to have practice to-day, but postponed it to decide on our colours. Blouses are to be left optional, but we are all to wear the same caps. We had a terrible fight over it. Fanny, Rose and I are blonde, so naturally we want light blue. Henrietta is a brunette, and (selfish thing!) stood out for yellow! However, we settled it amicably at last by choosing--as a compromise--pink. Then I made a capital suggestion, which pleased everybody immensely. Instead of caps we are to wear picture-hats. _Wednesday._--Went out in our boat for the first time. Such a fight for places! I managed to secure bow, which is a long way the best seat, as you lead the procession. Everybody sees you first, and it is most important that the crew should create a good impression. Henrietta wanted the position, and said that her brother had told her that the lightest girl should always be bow. I replied "quite right, and as I had lighter hair than hers, and my eyes were blue and hers brown, of course it should be me." Fanny and Rose agreed with me, and Kate (who was annoyed at not being consulted enough) placed her five. Henrietta was in such a rage! _Thursday._--We are in training! Think it rather nonsense. Why should we give up _meringues_ and sponge-cakes? And as to cigarettes, that isn't really a privation, as none of us really like them. A mile's run isn't bad, but it wears out one's shoes terribly. Kate wanted us all to drink stout, but we refused. We have compromised it by taking _fleur d'orange_ mixed with soda-water instead. The Turkish bath is rather long, but you can read a novel after the douche. Take it altogether, perhaps training is rather fun. Still, I think it, as I have already said, nonsense, especially in regard to sponge-cakes and _meringues_. _Friday._--Spent the whole of the morning in practising starts. Everybody disagreeable--Kate absolutely rude. Fancy wanting me to put down my parasol! And then Henrietta (spiteful creature!) declaring that I didn't keep my eye on the steering (we have lost our coxswain--had to pay a visit to some people in the country) because I _would_ look at the people on the banks! And Kate backing her up! I was very angry indeed. So I didn't come to practice in the afternoon, saying I had a bad headache, and went instead to Flora's five o'clock tea. _Saturday._--The day of the race! Everybody in great spirits, and looking their best. Even Henrietta was nice. Our picture-hats were perfectly beautiful. Fanny came out with additional feathers, which wasn't quite fair. But she said, as she was "stroke" she ought to be different from the rest. And as it was too late to have the hat altered we submitted. We started, and got on beautifully. I saw lots of people I knew on the towing-path, and waved to them. And just because I dropped hold of my oar as we got within ten yards of the winning-post they all said it was _my_ fault we lost! Who ever heard the like? The crew are a spiteful set of ugly frumps, and on my solemn word I won't row any more. Yes, it's no use asking me, as I say I won't, and I will stick to it. There! * * * * * [Illustration: THE HYPNOTIC STEWARD (_Specially engaged for the Cross-Channel Service_) ["Dr. Paul Farez asserts that he has found in hypnotism an absolutely infallible remedy for sea-sickness and similar discomforts."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * [Illustration: YACHTING IN LITTLE Squeamish accepts Stunsel's invitation for a month's cruise in his 10-ton yawl. He suffers much. _Stunsel._ "Come, come, Squeamish, old fellow, cheer up! You'll be all right in a week or so!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOLAR STUDIES IN THE HONEYMOON _She_ (_reading a scientific work_). "Isn't it wonderful, Charley dear, that the sun is supposed to be millions of miles away!" _Charley Dear_ (_suffering from the heat_). "Millions of miles, darling? Good thing for all of us that it isn't any nearer."] * * * * * [Illustration: "'ERE'S YOUR WERRY GOOD 'ELTH, SIR!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "O WOMAN, IN OUR HOURS OF EASE!" "Poor soul, 'e do look lonely all by 'isself! Ain't you glad you've got us with you, 'Enry?"] * * * * * HERE AND THERE If you were only here, George, I think--in fact, I know, We'd get a girl to steer, George, And take a boat and row; And, striking mighty bubbles From each propulsive blade, Forget that life had troubles At ninety in the shade. We'd swing along together, And cheerily defy This toasting, roasting weather, This sunshine of July. Our feather might be dirty, Our style might not be great; But style for men of thirty (And more) is out of date. You'd note with high elation-- I think I see you now-- The beaded perspiration That gathered on your brow. Oh, by that brow impearled, George, And by that zephyr wet, I vow in all the world, George, There's nothing like a "sweat." To row as if it mattered, Just think of what it means: All cares and worries shattered To silly smithereens. To row on such a day, George, And feel the sluggish brain, Its cobwebs brushed away, George, Clear for its work again! But you at Henley linger, While I am at Bourne-End. You will not stir a finger To come and join your friend. This much at least is clear, George: We cannot row a pair So long as I am here, George, And you remain up there. * * * * * "PERILS OF THE DEEP."--_Unprotected Female_ (_awaking old Gent, who is not very well_). "Oh, mister, would you find the captain? I'm sure we're in danger! I've been watching the man at the wheel; he keeps turning it round first one way and then the other, and evidently doesn't know his own mind!!" * * * * * [Illustration: A HONEYMOON OUTING _Ernest_ (_faintly_). "Vera, darling, I do believe I'm the worst sailor on earth!" _Vera_ (_ditto_). "I wouldn't mind _that_ so much, if _I_ wasn't so bad on the water!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VERY CONSIDERATE _Steward._ "Will either of you, gentlemen, dine on board? There's a capital hot dinner at three o'clock."] * * * * * A QUIET DAY ON THE THAMES (_Dedicated to the Thames Conservancy_) 9 A.M.--Got out my boat, and made immediately for the centre of the stream. 10 A.M.--Spent some three-quarters of an hour in attempting to avoid the swell of the City steamboats. Within an ace of being swamped by one of them. 11 A.M.--Run into by a sailing-barge. Only saved by holding on to a rope, and pushing my boat aground. 12 NOON.--Aground. 1 P.M.--After getting into deep water again, was immediately run into by a coal-barge. Exchange of compliments with the crew thereof. 2 P.M.--Pursued by swans and other savage birds. Pelted with stones thrown from the shore by ragged urchins out of reach of my vengeance. 3 P.M.--Amongst the fishing-punts. Lively communication of opinions by the angry fishermen. Attempted piracy. 4 P.M.--Busily engaged in extricating my boat from the weeds. 5 P.M.--Disaster caused by a rope coming from the towing-path. 6 P.M.--Lock-keeper not to be found. Daring and partially successful attempt to shoot the rapids. 7 P.M.--Run down by a steam-launch travelling at express-rate speed. 8 P.M.--Just recovering from the effects of drowning. 9 P.M.--Going home to bed! * * * * * [Illustration: "DROWSILY! DROWSILY!" _Energetic Male_ (_reclining_). "Now then, girls, work away! Nothing like taking real exercise!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE CHANNEL QUESTION SOLVED (1873) OR, EVERY ONE HIS OWN BESSEMER!] * * * * * AT HENLEY AS IT IS (_By Isaac Walton Minimus_) There used to be buttercups once on these meads, There used to be reeds by the bank, But now these same meadows have not even weeds, And the water's decidedly rank. The pastures are crowded with mannerless shows, And the river with refuse is blocked; There isn't a corner for quiet repose, While the nose is most constantly shocked! The houseboats and tents may with rich colour glow, And the course be more bright than before, But there isn't the thought for the men who will row, As there was in the brave days of yore! How Willan and Warre and stout "Johnny" Moss Must recurrence of past time re-wish, And the sight be to them and to rowing a loss, But _I_ only can think of the fish Who are poisoned by garbage and bloated with food, And oppressed with the bottles o'erthrown! My sentiments, though by the many pooh-poohed, By the few will be met with a moan! * * * * * [Illustration: _The Man in the Boat._ "I'm sorry, sir, but it was your own fault. Why didn't you get out into mid-stream?" _The Victim._ "Why, that's just what I've done!"] * * * * * THE TOURIST'S BAROMETER (_Read on the Channel_) Splendid Weather. I never mind the sea myself. The rougher for me the better. Have a cigar? Very Fine. One certainly does feel that only Englishmen can be sailors. Somehow or other they take naturally to the sea--now, don't they? Fine. Yes. I always come by Folkestone. I never _could_ see the use of the _Castalia_. We are not foreigners, you know. Most of us have our sea-legs. Eh? Moderate. Yes. Perhaps a little brandy-and-water _would_ be a good thing. Sea slight. The _very_ roughest passage I remember. But I am an excellent sailor. Still, would you mind putting out that cigar? Rather Rough. It's simply disgraceful. The _Castalia_ ought to be established by Act of Parliament. Shall write to the _Times_. I shall go down below--to think about it! Rough Oh! Here, somebody! Will it be more--than five minutes? Oh! oh! oh! Very Rough. (_Far too dreadful for description._) * * * * * [Illustration: EASTER RECREATIONS _Enthusiastic Skipper_ (_to friend_). "Ah, my boy! this is what you wanted. In a short time you'll feel yourself a different man!"] * * * * * RIVERSIDE SUNDAY Unnumbered are the trees that fling O'er Pangbourne Reach their shade, Unnumbered there the birds that sing Melodious serenade; But as the leaves upon the boughs Or feathers on the birds, So are the trippers who carouse Along the banks in herds. Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe, Lunch-laden hither hie, Each bearing her expectant crew To veal and chicken-pie; And from the woods around Hart's Lock Reports ring loud and clear, As trippers draw the festive hock Or democratic beer. From one to three, below, above, Is heard the crisp, clear crunch Of salad, as gay Damons love To linger over lunch. From three to six a kettle sings 'Neath every sheltering tree As afternoon to Phyllis brings The magic hour of tea. Well may the Cockney fly the Strand For this remoter nest, Where buses cease from rumbling and The motors are at rest. But would you shun your fellows--if To quiet you incline-- Oh, rather scull your shilling skiff Upon the Serpentine. * * * * * [Illustration: PRO BONO PUBLICO _Brown (passenger by the Glasgow steamer, 8.30 a.m.)._ "I beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. That is my tooth-brush!" _McGrubbie (ditto)._ "Ah beag years, mun, ah'm sure. Ah thoght 't belanged to the sheip!!"] * * * * * NEW SAILING ORDERS (_To be in force on or after the next Ultimo instant_) _The Darkest Night._--Any man not knowing when the darkest night is will be discharged. Inquiries can be made any day at the Admiralty from 10 till 4, excepting from 1 till 2, when all hands are piped to luncheon. _The Rule of the Rowed_ at sea is similar to the rule of the sailed. No ship must come into collision with another. If two steamers are on the starboard tack, they must return to the harbour and begin again. Any steamship likely to meet another steamship must reverse and go somewhere else. Any admiral out after 12 o'clock will be locked up wherever he is. Nobody, however high in command, can be permitted to sit on a buoy out at sea for the purpose of frightening vessels. All complaints to be made to the Admiralty, or to one of the mounted sentries at the Horse Guards. [Illustration] An admiral is on duty all night to receive complaints. Every mounted marine on joining must bring his own fork, spoon and towel horse. If two vessels are meeting end on, take one end off. The other loses and forfeits sixpence. Any infringement or infraction of the above rules and regulations will be reported by the head winds to the deputy toastmaster for the current year at Colwell-Hatchney. N.B.--On hand a second-hand pair of gloves for boxing the compass. Remember the 26th of December is near, when they may be wanted. The equivalent of a chaplain-general to the forces has been appointed. He is to be called chaplain-admiral to the fleet. The cockpits are being turned into pulpits. If not ready by next Sunday he will deliver his first sermon from the main-top gallant jibboom mizen. The Colney-Hatches will be crowded. * * * * * [Illustration: OUT OF IT The eldest Miss Blossom thinks that the part of double gooseberry is rather monotonous.] * * * * * [Illustration: HOW LITTLE OUR DEAR ONES UNDERSTAND US _Madge._ "My dear George, there you've been sitting with your camera since breakfast, and you haven't taken anything." _George (intent on his own feelings)._ "Don't ask me to, darling, I couldn't touch it!"] * * * * * A REGATTA RHYME _On Board the "Athena," Henley-on-Thames_ I like, it is true, in a basswood canoe To lounge, with a weed incandescent: To paddle about, there is not a doubt, I find it uncommonly pleasant! I love the fresh air, the lunch here and there, To see pretty toilettes and faces; But one thing I hate--allow me to state-- The fuss they make over the Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races!_-- _Mid all the Regatta embraces_-- _I'm that sort of chap, I don't care a rap,_ _A rap or a snap for the Races!_ I don't care, you know, a bit how they row, Nor mind about smartness of feather; If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad, Nor care if they all swing together! Oh why do they shout and make such a rout, When one boat another one chases? 'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not? Or bore oneself over the Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote, It interrupts calm contemplation; Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan, Is death to serene meditation! The roar of the crowd should not be allowed; The gun with its fierce fulmination, Abolish it, pray--'tis fatal, they say, To pleasant and quiet flirtation! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ If athletes must pant--I don't say they shan't-- But give them some decent employment; And let it be clear, they don't interfere With other folks' quiet enjoyment! When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore-- And I think it a very hard case is-- To have to look up, from _páté_ or cup, And gaze on those tiresome Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key, Mid dreamy delightful diversion; There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun, Who suffer from over-exertion! In sweet idle days, when all love to laze, Such violent work a disgrace is! Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree, And next year abolish the Races! _I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._ * * * * * [Illustration: KNOW THYSELF! _Miss Featherweight._ "I tell you what, Alfred, if you took me for a row in a thing like that I'd scream all the time. Why, he isn't more than half out of the water!"] * * * * * HENLEY REGATTA _By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt_ All right -- here we are -- quite the waterman -- jolly -- young -- white flannels -- straw hat -- canvas shoes -- umbrella -- mackintosh -- provide against a rainy day! Finest reach for rowing in England -- best regatta in the Eastern Hemisphere -- finest pic-nic in the world! Gorgeous barges -- palatial houseboats -- superb steam-launches -- skiffs -- randans -- punts -- wherries -- sailing-boats -- dinghies -- canoes! Red Lion crammed from cellar to garret -- not a bed to be had in the town -- comfortable trees all booked a fortnight in advance -- well-aired meadows at a premium! Lion Gardens crammed with gay toilettes -- Grand Stand like a flower-show -- band inspiriting -- church-bells distracting -- sober grey old bridge crammed with carriages -- towing-path blocked up with spectators -- meadows alive with pic-nic parties! Flags flying everywhere -- music -- singers -- niggers -- conjurers -- fortune-tellers! Brilliant liveries of rowing clubs -- red -- blue -- yellow -- green -- purple -- black -- white -- all jumbled up together -- rainbow gone mad -- kaleidoscope with _delirium tremens_. Henley hospitality proverbial -- invitation to sixteen luncheons -- accept 'em all -- go to none! Find myself at luncheon where I've not been asked -- good plan -- others in reserve! Wet or fine -- rain or shine -- must be at Henley! If fine, row about all day -- pretty girls -- bright dresses -- gay sunshades. If wet, drop in at hospitable houseboat just for a call -- delightful damsels -- mackintoshes -- umbrellas! Houseboat like Ark -- all in couples -- Joan of Ark in corner with Darby -- Who is she? -- Don't No-ah -- pun effect of cup. Luncheons going on all day -- cups various continually circulating -- fine view -- lots of fun -- delightful, very! People roaring -- rowists howling along bank -- lot of young men with red oars in boat over-exerting themselves -- lot more in boat with blue oars, also over-exerting themselves -- bravo! -- pick her up! -- let her have it! -- well pulled -- everybody gone raving mad! Bang! young men leave off over-exerting themselves -- somebody says somebody has won something. Seems to have been a race about something -- why can't they row quietly? Pass the claret-cup, please -- Why do they want to interrupt our luncheon? -- Eh? * * * * * [Illustration: "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" (A sketch at a regatta. A warning to "the cloth" when up the river)] * * * * * [Illustration: CUPID AT SEA _Angelina (to Edwin, whose only chance is perfect tranquillity)._ "Edwin, dear! If you love me, go down into the cabin, and fetch me my scent bottle and another shawl to put over my feet!" [_Edwin's sensations are more easily imagined than described._ ] * * * * * THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAIDS And have you not read of eight jolly young watermaids, Lately at Cookham accustomed to ply And feather their oars with a deal of dexterity, Pleasing the critical masculine eye? They swing so truly and pull so steadily, Multitudes flock to the river-side readily;-- It's not the eighth wonder that all the world's there, But this watermaid eight, ne'er in want of a stare. What sights of white costumes! What ties and what hatbands, "Leander cerise!" We don't wish to offend, But are these first thoughts with the dashing young women Who don't dash too much in a spurt off Bourne End? Mere nonsense, of course! There's no "giggling and leering"-- Complete ruination to rowing and steering;-- "All eyes in the boat" is their coach's first care, And "a spin of twelve miles" is as naught to the fair. * * * * * [Illustration: GOOD RESOLUTIONS _Blenkinsop (on a friend's Yacht) soliloquises._ "I know one thing, if ever I'm rich enough to keep a yacht, I shall spend the money in horses."] * * * * * ECHOES FROM THE THAMES SCENE--_Houseboat in a good position._ TIME--_Evening during "the Regatta week._" PRESENT (_on deck in cozy chairs_)--_He and She._ _She._ Very pretty, the lights, are they not? _He._ Perfectly charming. So nice after the heat. _She._ Yes, and really, everything has been delightful. _He._ Couldn't possibly be better. Wonderful how well it can be done. _She._ Yes. But, of course, it wants management. You know a lot comes down from town. _He._ Will the stores send so far? _She._ Yes, and if they won't others will. And then the local tradespeople are very obliging. _He._ But don't the servants rather kick at it? _She._ No, because they are comfortable enough. Put them up in the neighbourhood. _He._ Ah, to be sure. And your brother looks after the cellar so well. _She._ Yes, he is quite a genius in that line. _He._ And it's awfully nice chatting all day. _She._ Yes, when one doesn't go to sleep. _He._ And, of course, we can fall back upon the circulating libraries and the newspapers. _She._ And so much better than town. It must be absolutely ghastly in Piccadilly. _He._ Yes, so I hear. And then there's the racing! _She._ Ah, to be sure. To tell the truth, I didn't notice that very much. Was there any winning? _He._ Oh, yes, a lot. But I really quite forget what---- _She._ Oh, never mind. We can read all about it in to-morrow's papers, and that will be better than bothering about it now. [_Scene closes in to soft music on the banjo._ * * * * * [Illustration: AT HENLEY--"IPSE DIXIT" ["For a mile and a half the river was covered with elegant craft, in which youth was always at the prow and pleasure always at the helm."--_Daily Paper._] ] * * * * * "THE SAILORMAN'S MENOO" (_To a Shipowner. By a Shell-back_) It's mighty fine, yer talkin', but you never done no trips In the bloomin' leaky foc'sle of yer leaky, rotten ships; And though you gulls the public with a sham Menoo for _us_, It isn't printed lies as makes provisions worth a cuss; And even silly emigrants will tell you straight and true That the test of grub is grubbin', not the advertised Menoo. I'm talkin' now, not beggin' for a chance to starve and work In an undermanned old tanker with a skipper like a Turk; With a cook as larnt 'is cookin' when 'e 'ad to cook or beg, Or go into an 'orspital to nurse a cranky leg; And what I says I means it, and my words is plain and true, Which is more than any sailorman will say for yer Menoo. I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean, That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean? And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff, When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough? Not even with the cockroaches that's given with the stew, Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo. There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ashore ain't told That the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold. For sailormen's best Mocha was never further East Than a bloomin' Essex bean-field; and the tea ain't tea--at least It's on'y "finest sweepin's" from the docks, and wot a brew It makes when sarved in buckets to drink to yer Menoo! The pork and beef on paper, or a tin dish, makes a show, But you'd want yer front teeth sharpened if you tackled it, my bo'! For the beef is still the ancient 'orse wot worked on Portland Pier, And the pork is rotten reasty, that was inwoiced twice too dear If they charged you 'arf a thick 'un for the whack you gives the crew, With the pickles and the butter set out fine in yer Menoo. I'd like to take you jossers, as thinks as sailormen Is a grumblin' lot of skulkers, just one trip and 'ome agen; For when yer 'ands was achin' with sea cuts to the bone, And the Baltic talked north-easters, you'd be alterin' of yer tone, And might'nt think wot's wrote in print is necessary true, And perhaps when you was safe agen you'd alter our Menoo. * * * * * [Illustration: A TRIAL OF FAITH _Bertie (at intervals)._ "I used to---- What the---- do a lot of---- Conf---- rowing, one time!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CRITICAL _Boatman (spelling)._ "P-s-y-c-h-e. Well, that's the rummest way I ever see o' spellin' _fish_!"] * * * * * HENLEY REGATTA (_By Mr. Punch's Own Oarsman_) Sir,--This letter is private and is not intended for publication. I particularly beg that you will note this, as on a former occasion some remarks of mine, which were intended only for your private eye, were printed. I of course accepted your assurance that no offence was meant, and that the oversight was due to a person whose services had since the occurrence been dispensed with; but I look to you to take care that it shall not happen again. Otherwise the mutual confidence that should always exist between an editor and his staff cannot possibly be maintained, and I shall have to transfer my invaluable services to some other paper. The notes and prognostications which I have laboriously compiled with regard to the final results of the regatta will arrive by the next post, and will, I flatter myself, be found to be extraordinarily accurate, besides being written in that vivid and picturesque style which has made my contributions famous throughout the civilised world. There are one or two little matters about which I honestly desire to have your opinion. You know perfectly well that I was by no means anxious for the position of aquatic reporter. In vain I pointed out to you that my experience of the river was entirely limited to an occasional trip by steamboat from Charing Cross to Gravesend. You said that was an amply sufficient qualification, and that no aquatic reporter who respected himself and his readers, had ever so far degraded himself as to row in a boat and to place his body in any of the absurd positions which modern oarsmanship demands. Finding you were inexorable, and knowing your ridiculously hasty temper, I consented finally to undertake the arduous duties. These circumstances, however, make it essential that you should give me advice when I require it. For obvious reasons I don't much like to ask any of the rowing men here any questions. They are mostly in what they call hard training, which means, I fancy, a condition of high irritability. Their strokes may be long, but their tempers are, I regret to say, painfully short. Besides, to be candid, I don't wish to show the least trace of ignorance. My position demands that I should be omniscient, and omniscient, to all outward appearance, I shall remain. In the first place, what is a "lightship"? As I travelled down to Henley I read in one of the newspapers that "practice for the Royal Regatta was now in full swing, and that the river was dotted with lightships of every description." I remember some years ago passing a very pleasant half hour on board of a lightship moored in the neighbourhood of Broadstairs. The rum was excellent. I looked forward with a lively pleasure to repeating the experience at Henley. As soon as I arrived, therefore, I put on my yachting cap (white, with a gold anchor embroidered in front), hired a boat and a small boy, and directed him to row me immediately to one of the lightships. I spent at least two hours on the river in company with that boy--a very impudent little fellow,--but owing no doubt to his stupidity, I failed to find a single vessel which could be fairly described as a lightship. Finally the boy said they had all been sunk in yesterday's great storm, and with that inadequate explanation I was forced to content myself. But there is a mystery about this. Please explain it. Secondly, I see placards and advertisements all over the place announcing that "the Stewards Stand." Now this fairly beats me. Why should the stewards stand? They are presumably men of a certain age, some of them must be of a certain corpulence, and it seems to me a refinement of cruelty that these faithful officials, of whom, I believe, the respected Mayor of Henley is one, should be compelled to refrain from seats during the whole of the Regatta. It may be necessary for them to set an example of true British endurance to the crowds who attend the Regatta, but in that case surely they ought to be paid for the performance of their duties. Thirdly, I have heard a good deal of talk about the Visitors' Cup. Being anxious to test its merits, I went to one of the principal hotels here, and ordered the waiter to bring me a quart of Visitors' Cup, and to be careful to ice it well. He seemed puzzled, but went away to execute my orders. After an absence of ten minutes he returned, and informed me, with the manager's compliments, that they could not provide me with what I wanted, but that their champagne-cup was excellent. I gave the fellow a look, and departed. Perhaps this is only another example of the asinine and anserous dunderheadedness of these crass provincials. Kindly reply, _by wire_, about all the three points I have mentioned. I have been here for a week, but have, as yet, not been fortunate enough to see any crews. Indeed, I doubt if there are any here. A good many maniacs disport themselves every day in rickety things which look something like gigantic needles, and other people have been riding along the bank, and, very naturally, abusing them loudly for their foolhardy recklessness. But no amount of abuse causes them to desist. I have puzzled my brains to know what it all means, but I confess I can't make it out. I fancy I know a boat when I see one, and of course these ridiculous affairs can't be boats. Be good enough to send me, by return, at least £100. It's a very difficult and expensive thing to support the dignity of your paper in this town. Whiskey is very dear, and a great deal goes a very short way. Yours sincerely, THE MAN AT THE OAR. _Henley-on-Thames, July 4._ * * * * * [Illustration: AQUATICS--A COMFORTABLE RAN-DAN _Jolly Young Waterman._ "Holloa! Hi! Police! Back water, Jack! We've got into a nest of swans, and they're a pitchin' into me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE SERPENTINE (Gent thinks he is rowing to the admiration of everybody) _Small Boy._ "'Old 'ard, guv'n'r! And take me and my traps acrosst--will yer?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Fiend in human shape._ "Don't feel well! Try a cigar!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Binks, who is the kindest creature possible, has undertaken to fasten up the boat and bring along the siphons. Unfortunately both sculls have gone, and his friends are out of hearing.] * * * * * [Illustration: MOAN, HEARD ON A RAMSGATE BOAT "Why didn't we go by rail?"] * * * * * MAUNDERINGS AT MARLOW (_By Our Own �sthetic Bard_) The lilies are languid, the aspens quiver, The Sun-God shooteth his shafts of light, The ripples are wroth with the restless river; _And O for the wash of the weir at night_! The soul of the poet within him blenches At thought of plunge in the water bright, To witness the loves of the tender tenches: _And O for the wash of the weir at night_! The throstle is wooing within the thicket, The fair frog fainteth in love's affright; The maiden is waiting to ope the wicket; _And O for the wash of the weir at night_! The bargeman he knoweth where Marlow Bridge is. To pies of puppy he doth invite; The cow chews the cud on the pasture ridges; _And O for the wash of the weir at night_! So far from the roar of the seething city, The poet reposes much too quite, He trills to the Thames in a dainty ditty; _And O for the wash of the weir at night_! * * * * * [Illustration: _Malicious Swell in the stern sheets_ (_to little party on the weather quarter_). "Splendid breeze, isn't it, Gus?" _Gus_ (_who, you see, has let his cigar go out_). "Ye-es; but I say, what's o'clock? Isn't it time to turn back?--What d'ye think?"] * * * * * FLITTINGS (_Per Ocean Bottle-post_) _In the South Atlantic, Three miles off Land (perpendicularly). Six Bells, Feb. 27, 1898._ DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Yeo-ho and ahoy! If this ever reaches you, it is to tell you that the very good ship _Triton_ (this is within a cable's length of her name) has been at sea for just a fortnight, bound for the Cape on her second trip. She bears on board about a thousand souls all told, five horses, a couple of cows, two or three parrots, of third-class behaviour, and a few canaries, which have not as yet taken berths inside the ship's cat. We left Southampton on an even keel, but there were plenty of French rolls for breakfast next morning in the Bay of Biscay, so we were ægrotat (_sic_) for the rest of the day in such seclusion as our cabin granted. The next event of importance was Madeira. Here we had about four hours in which to watch the natives (one of them a one-armed boy) diving for our spare coppers, to breakfast on shore, to do the sights of Funchal, to buy deck-chairs, if not whole drawing-room suites, of wickerwork, to visit Santa Clara and the other suburban resorts, and, most necessary of all, to ascend by the new mountain railway to the church of Nossa Senhora de Monte, and then to descend two thousand feet by _carro_, or toboggan over the cobble-stone pathway. It was a lot to do, but we did it on our heads--especially the last-named athletic performance. Our steersman, Manuel, certainly deserved his pint of Madeira at the "Half-way House" for his agility and dexterity in taking us down a decline of one in two, past corkscrew corners, and hordes of beggars. English money seems to be quite the medium of currency at Funchal, and English is spoken by the enterprising islanders while you wait (or until your last shilling is spent). Even a tea-garden sort of place is dignified by the name of "Earl's Court," to attract and solace the homesick Londoner. Meanwhile, it was market-day on board the ship, and great was the company of merchants with all kinds of wares. These are bundled off neck and crop by 11 A.M., and we settled down to the serious business of the voyage--the election of a Sports and Entertainment Committee, the consumption of six meals a day, the daily sweepstakes and auction on the run, the dissection of everybody's character, and the other inevitable humours and incidents of an ocean trip. We fetched a compass, or whatever the nautical phrase is, round the Canaries in a sea-fog, for fear of running up against Teneriffe, and since then we haven't sighted land, nor seen a ship, or even a whale or waterspout, nothing more exciting than a few coveys of flying-fish, and, I think, half-a-dozen porpoises. At the moment of writing, however, I see a solitary albatross, and lose no time in informing your readers of the fact. We crossed the line without feeling the slightest bump. We have passed through the tropics with only one hot night, and our feet, like our thoughts, are now turning towards Fleet Street and home, as we near the Antipodes. We have had the usual fancy-dress ball with some decidedly impromptu costumes. One of a large theatrical company was quite unrecognisable as Sheffield's Ape, taking the first prize, and has since been busy restoring himself to human form. The captain's clerk appeared in a series of quick-turn changes, such as a comic sailor or a deplorable old lady; while the ship's doctor contributed an awe-inspiring impersonation of Old Moore or somebody in the wizard profession. The sports and other entertainments have passed off without bloodshed. Our captain, a breezy, jovial Irishman, received the ladies with open arms at the finish of their fifty yards race, and the comedians who performed in "Are you there?" and the other humorous items fully rose, or tumbled, to the occasion, as the case might be. Take it all round, we have had a particularly good time of it. Pleasant company and pleasant weather. Out of reach of letters and telegrams, and face to face with the ocean. We are now in the teeth of a strong south-easter, and the writing-room is beginning to dance, I therefore hasten to catch the post. Yours, very much at sea, X. Y. Z. * * * * * [Illustration: ASSURING! _Passenger_ (_faintly_). "C'lect fares--'fore we get across! I thought we----" _Mate._ "'Beg y'r pardon, sir, but our orders is, in bad weather, to be partic'lar careful to collect fares; 'cause in a gale like this 'ere, there's no knowing how soon we may all go to the bottom!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ILLUSTRATED QUOTATIONS (_One so seldom finds an artist who realises the poetic conception_) "We have fed our sea for a thousand years."--_Kipling._] * * * * * [Illustration: A PRIMEVAL YACHT RACE Somehow or other, in those days, a breeze was more often forthcoming when it was wanted, and the race did "occasionally" end in favour of the challenger.] * * * * * ON VIEW AT HENLEY The most characteristic work of that important official, the clerk of the weather. The young lady who has never been before, and wants to know the names of the eights who compete for the Diamond Sculls. The enthusiastic boating man, who, however, prefers luncheon when the hour arrives, to watching the most exciting race imaginable. The itinerant vendors of "coolers" and other delightful comestibles. The troupes of niggers selected and not quite select. The houseboat with decorations in odious taste, and company to match. The "perfect gentleman's rider" (from Paris) who remembers boating at Asnières thirty years ago, when Jules wore when rowing lavender kid-gloves and high top-boots. The calm mathematician (from Berlin), who would prefer to see the races represented by an equation. The cute Yankee (from New York), who is quite sure that some of the losing crews have been "got at" while training. The guaranteed enclosure, with band, lunch and company of the same quality. The "very best view of the river" from a dozen points of the compass. Neglected maidens, bored matrons, and odd men out. Quite the prettiest toilettes in the world. The Thames Conservancy in many branches. Launches: steam, electric, accommodating and the reverse. Men in flannels who don't boat, and men in tweeds who do. A vast multitude residential, and a vaster come per rail from town. Three glorious days of excellent racing, at once national and unique. An aquatic festival, a pattern to the world. And before all and above all, a contest free from all chicanery, and the very embodiment of fairplay. * * * * * The new lock at Teddington must be a patent one, as there is no quay. * * * * * [Illustration: NOT THE FIRST TIME THEY DON'T AGREE TOGETHER _Wife._ "Isn't it jolly to think we have the whole day before us? The boatman says we couldn't go home, even if we wanted to, till the tide turns, and that's not for hours and hours yet. I've got all sorts of lovely things for lunch too!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT _Lock-keeper (handing ticket)._ "Threepence, please." _Little Jenkins._ "Not me: I've just paid that fellow back there." _Lock-keeper (drily)._ "'Im! Oh, that's the chap _who collects for the Band_!"] * * * * * HINTS FOR HENLEY Flannels in moderation are pardonable, but they are slightly out of place if you can't row and it rains. The cuisine of a houseboat is not always limitless, so "chance" visitors are sometimes more numerous than welcome. The humours of burnt-cork minstrelsy must be tolerated during an aquatic carnival, but it is as well to give street singers as wide a berth as possible. In the selection of guests for, say, _The Pearl of the North Pole_, or _The Hushaby Baby_, it is as well to learn that none of them are cuts with the others, and all are prepared to accept "roughing it" as the order of the day. Lanterns, music, and fireworks are extremely pretty things, but night air on the river is sometimes an introduction to sciatica, rheumatism, and chills. In the selection of a costume, a lady should remember that it is good to be "smart," but better still to be well. Finally, it is desirable to bear in mind that, pleasant as riparian life may be, Henley is, after all, a regatta, and that consequently some sort of attention should be paid to the racing. * * * * * [Illustration: GASTRONOMERS AFLOAT _Mrs. Fleshpottle._ "Well, I must say, Mrs. Gumblewag, I like something substantial for _my_ dinner. Nothing, I think, can be better than some pea-soup to begin with; then a biled leg of mutton with plenty of fat, with turnips and caper sauce; then some tripe and onions, and one or two nice suet dumplings as a finish!" _Mrs. Gumblewag._ "For my part, mum, I prefer something more tasty and flavoursome-like. Now, a well-cooked bullock's heart, to be followed by some liver and bacon, and a dish of greens. Afterwards a jam bolster, and a black pudding, and some toasted cheese to top up with, is what I call a dinner fit for a----" [_Mr. Doddlewig does not wait to hear any more!_ ] * * * * * MORE HINTS FOR HENLEY (_For the use of Visitors, Male and Female_) Take an umbrella to keep off the rain--unopened. Beware of encouraging burnt-cork minstrels, or incurring their resentment. Remember, it is not every houseboat that is sufficiently hospitable to afford lunch. After all, a travel down from town in the train is better than the discomforts of dawn on the river in a houseboat. Six hours of enforced company is a strong order for the best of friends, sometimes leading to incipient enmity. A canoe for two is a pleasant distraction if the man is equal to keeping from an upset in the water. Flirting is a not unpleasant accompaniment to an _alfresco_ lunch with well-iced liquids. If you really wish to make a favourable impression upon everyone, be cheery, contented, good-natured, and, above all, slightly interested in the racing. * * * * * [Illustration: _Enthusiastic Skipper._ "Aha! my boy! You can't do this sort of thing on shore!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SQUALLY WEATHER--MAKING ALL "TAUT"] * * * * * FURTHER REGULATIONS FOR HENLEY (_Under the Consideration of the Thames Conservancy_) No piano playing shall be permitted on houseboats during the racing, so that the attention of coxswains shall not be thereby distracted. To avoid a crowd collecting on the course, no craft shall be permitted to leave the shores between the hours of 6 A.M. and 9 P.M. To preserve decorum, only lemonade and ginger-beer shall be drunk during the illuminations, and fireworks shall henceforth be restricted to one squib and a couple of crackers to each houseboat. Finally, recreation of every kind shall be discontinued, so that in future the unpopularity of the County Council on land shall find its reflection in the universal detestation in which the Thames Conservancy shall be held by those living on the river. * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _Extract from Diary._--"WEDNESDAY. Went for a spin or trip, or whatever it's called, on Bowlines' new racing yacht. Felt very nervous when we turned the corners; nearly fell overboard while I was trying to balance the thing; thought we should have been drowned. B. said it was a wonder we weren't--thanks to _me_! Had a few words with B. _Mem._--Never again!" [_N.B.--B. says the same._ ] * * * * * [Illustration] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
42400	----	MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration:] _Edwin (suddenly, after a long pause)._ "Darling!" _Angelina._ "Yes, darling?" _Edwin._ "Nothing, darling. Only _darling_, darling!" [_Bilious Old Gentleman feels quite sick._ ] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE BEING THE HUMOURS OF COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY [Illustration] _WITH 150 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, SIR JOHN TENNIEL, PHIL MAY, E. T. REED, L. RAVEN-HILL, GORDON BROWNE, TOM BROWNE, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, C. E. BROCK, REGINALD CLEAVER, CHARLES PEARS, A. S. BOYD, LEWIS BAUMER, DAVID WILSON, G. L. STAMPA, AND OTHERS. PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration: Take Back the Heart That You Gave Me] ABOUT MATRIMONIAL JOKES, AND ONE IN PARTICULAR Of all Mr. Punch's jokes it might be fair to say that none has ever rivalled the popularity of "Advice to persons about to marry,--Don't!" unless it be that of the Scotsman who had been no more than a few hours in London, "when bang went saxpence!" Of the latter, more in its place; here, we are immediately concerned with "Punch's advice." The most preposterous stories are current among the uninformed as to the origin of some of Mr. Punch's favourite jests. Only recently we heard a gentleman telling a group of people in a hotel smoking-room that Mark Twain got a hundred pounds from Punch for writing that famous line, "I used your soap two years ago; since then I have used no other," familiar to every one by Mr. Harry Furniss's drawing of a disreputable tramp who is supposed to be writing the words quoted. As a matter of fact, the idea came to Mr. Furniss from an anonymous correspondent. Stories equally, if not more, absurd have been told as to the origin of "Punch's advice," which, thanks to the researches of Mr. Spielmann, we now know to have been the happy inspiration of Henry Mayhew, one of the founders of _Punch_. It was sixty-one years ago that Mayhew wrote the line, and how many millions of times it must have been quoted since one dare not guess! It may be said to have struck the keynote of Mr. Punch's matrimonial policy, as an examination of his pages reveals him an incorrigible pessimist on the subject of marriage. He is very hard on the mother-in-law, but in all his life he has not made more than one or two jokes about the young wife's pastry, though he has made a good deal of fun about her general ignorance of domestic affairs. Nor has he spared the bachelor or the old maid, and the designing widow has been an especial butt for his shafts. It might be a good thing to pass a law prohibiting young and marriageable men from reading _Punch_, in order to save many of them from being discouraged and frightened out of the thought of marriage, and it would certainly be an incentive thereto--they would be tempted to become Benedicts if only that they might qualify for the removal of the prohibition! * * * * * [Illustration: "DRIVEN TO DESPERATION"] * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE * * * * * [Illustration] ADVICE TO PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY.--Don't. * * * * * ADVICE TO PERSONS WHO HAVE "FALLEN IN LOVE."--Fall out. * * * * * ENCOURAGING.--_George (who has just engaged himself to the Girl of his heart) breaks the happy news to his friend Jack (who has been married some time)._--_Jack._ "Ah! well, my dear fellow, marriage is the best thing in the long run, and I can assure you that after a year or two a man gets used to it, and feels just as jolly as if he'd never married at all!" * * * * * A DEFINITION.--Flirtation: a spoon with nothing in it. * * * * * DOMESTIC.--It was a homely but pungent observation, on the part of a man of much experience and observation, that marriage without love was like tripe without onions. * * * * * ADAGE BY A YOUNG LADY.--Man proposes, but mamma disposes. * * * * * BY A BEASTLY OLD BACHELOR.--A married man's fate (in brief).--Hooked, booked, cooked. * * * * * DESCRIBE A HOME-CIRCLE.--The wedding ring. * * * * * HOW TO FIX THE HAPPY DAY.--_Q._ When's the best day for a wedding? _A._ Why, of course, "A _Weddin's day_." * * * * * DOMESTIC ECONOMY. Said Stiggins to his wife one day, "We've nothing left to eat; If things go on in this queer way, We shan't make _both ends meet_." The dame replied, in words discreet, "We're not so badly fed, If we can make but _one_ end _meat_, And make the other _bread_." * * * * * [Illustration: _Clergyman._ "Augustus, wilt thou take this woman----" _Bride (late of Remnant & Co.'s Ribbon Department). "Lady!"_] * * * * * TO PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY.--Take care to choose a lady help, and not a lady encumbrance. * * * * * ACCOUNTED FOR AT LAST.--Is it not strange that the "best man" at a wedding is not the bridegroom? This must be the reason of so many unhappy marriages. * * * * * THE BEST WARDS OF A LATCHKEY.--Homewards! * * * * * ONE GREAT LOTTERY OFFICE STILL RECOGNISED BY THE LAW.--The Marriage Register. * * * * * [Illustration: "There goes the _second_ Mrs. Muggeray!" "Gracious! What on earth did he marry her for?" "Oh, he said he wanted some one to amuse the children!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WONDERFUL WHAT AN ADJECTIVE WILL DO _Brown (newly married--to Jones, whom he entertained a few evenings previously)._ "Well, what did you think of us, old boy, eh?" _Jones._ "Oh, pretty flat. Er--awfully pretty flat!"] * * * * * SCIENTIFIC ACCURACY.--"But _why_ do you want to marry her?" "Because I _love_ her!" "My dear fellow, that's an _excuse_--not a _reason_!" * * * * * TO PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY.--What is enough for one, is half enough for two, short commons for three, and starvation for half a dozen. * * * * * LOVE SONG Love me, lady! My hair is gray; When round comes pay-day I cannot pay. My corns are awful, My prospects shady, I want a comforter: Love me, lady! * * * * * NOTES OF ADMIRATION.--Love letters. * * * * * [Illustration: "THERE IS A TIE THAT BINDS US TO OUR HOMES"] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "I can't understand Phyllis rejecting me last night." _She._ "Never mind. You'll soon get over it." _He._ "Oh, _I_'ve got over it right enough; but I can't help feeling so doosid sorry for _her_. I shan't ask her again!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A NIGHT OF IT" _Young Wife_ (2 A.M.). "Dinner at the Albion! the theatre! and supper and a rubber at the club! Well, Henry, I wonder you did not go to all the places of amusement in London, and (_sobbing_) not come home all night!" _Henry._ "My dear, all th' other places shu' rup!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SENSE AND SENSIBILITY A FRAGMENT "Yes, Robert! But O! do look at the excellent evening glow on yon distant hills! How solemn!! How sublime!" "O! stunning. Well, _then_ I measured the scullery: six feet by ten... that'll just do, won't it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: PRIMARY ROCK] * * * * * THE EFFECT OF GETTING MARRIED.--"Poor Dick! how sadly he is altered since his marriage!" remarked one friend to another. "Why, yes, of course," replied the other; "directly a man's neck is in the nuptial noose, every one must see that he's a haltered person." * * * * * A BAD PRE-EMINENCE.--What is there beats a good wife? A bad husband. * * * * * QUESTION BY A SEWING MACHINE.--What is woman's true sphere?--The _Hem_isphere. * * * * * A MARRIAGE QUESTION.--If a man addicted to smoking marries a widow, does it follow that he must lay down his pipe, because she gives up her weeds? * * * * * A READY-MADE REJOINDER.--_He._ "You made a fool of me when I married you, ma'am!" _She._ "Lor! You always told me you were a self-made man!" * * * * * MEM. BY AN OLD MAID.--If you "look over your age," you won't find anyone else willing to do the same. * * * * * [Illustration: MAFEKING NIGHT (_Or rather_ 3 A.M. _the following morning_) _Voice_ (_from above_). "Good gracious, William! Why _don't_ you come to bed?" _William_ (_huskily_). "My dear Maria, you know it's been the rule of my life to go to bed shober--and I can't posh'bly come to bed yet!"] * * * * * THE NEOGAMS--A WARNING [Illustration] Newly married, Railway carried; Sighing. At the station Osculation; Crying. Smiling, parting; Hands at starting Gripping. Cozy quarters, Guards and porters Tipping. [Illustration] On the journey Glances yearny, Mooning. Closely sitting, As is fitting, Spooning. Destination; Forced cessation. Pity! Porters poking Fun, and joking, Witty. On arriving, Carriage driving; Kissing. Lovely scenery, Lakes and greenery, Missing. Hotel, _table d'hôte_ a rabble. Shun it! Private cover Sooner over-- Done it. Champagne drinking; Waiter winking. Curious! People smiling; Very riling; Furious. [Illustration] After dining, Arms entwining, Walking Sipping honey-- What's there funny?-- Talking. So time passes; Grinning asses Guess 'em Newly married, Sorely harried-- Bless 'em! * * * * * [Illustration: _Casual Acquaintance._. "Hear you're to be married, Mr. Ribbes. Congratulate you!" _Mr. Ribbes._ "Much obliged, but I dunno so much about congratulations. It's corstin' me a pretty penny, I tell yer. Mrs. Ribbes as is to be, she wants 'er _trousseau_, yer know; an' then there's the furnishin', an' the licence, an' the parson's fees; an' then I 'ave to give 'er an' 'er sister a bit o' jool'ry a-piece; an' wot with one thing an' another--she's a 'eavy woman, yer know, thirteen stun odd--well, I reckon she'll 'a corst me pretty near _two-an'-eleven a pound_ afore I git 'er 'ome!"] * * * * * SONGS OF THE HEARTH-RUG THE NEGLECTED WIFE TO HER RUSHLIGHT My rushlight, when first kindled, Twelve inches long wast thou; And I behold thee dwindled To one, my candle, now! How brief thy span, contrasted With rushlight's average life! A happier dip had lasted A week a happier wife. Where is my husband got to? Oh say, expiring light! A man ought really not to Stay out so every night. I'm sure that Bradshaw's press'd him To join his tippling lot: That Bradshaw! I detest him;-- The good-for-nothing sot! Would that this piece of paper, Which, ere thy flame expire, I light from thee, my taper, Could set that club on fire. * * * * * A BLUNDER-BUSS.--Kissing the wrong girl. * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE MARRIED.--Never dis-pair. * * * * * MEM. BY "ONE WHO MARRIED IN HASTE."--"The real 'Battle of Life' begins with a short engagement." * * * * * [Illustration: Time--3 A.M.] _Voice from above._ "Is that you, John? You're very late, aren't you?" _Brown (returned from celebrating the latest victory)._ "It's only about--er--twelve, my dear, I think----" _The Cuckoo Clock._ "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" _Brown (grasping situation instantly)._ "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" * * * * * [Illustration: A WET NURSE] * * * * * "LITERA SCRIPTA."--_Wooer._ "Oh, Miss--oh, Lavinia! may I not still hope?--or is your cruel rejection of my suit final and irrevoc----" _Spinster (firmly)._ "Yes, Mr. Brown, I seriously desire you will regard it so." _Wooer._ "Then, dearest, may I ask you"--(_producing the materials from adjacent writing-table_)--"to--ah--put it on papar! I shall feel safer!" * * * * * A "NOISELESS SEWING MACHINE."--A good wife. * * * * * PAUCA VERBA.--_Robinson (after a long Whist bout at the Club)._ "It's awfully late, Brown. What will you say to your wife?" _Brown (in a whisper)._ "Oh, I shan't say much, you know--'Good morning, dear,' or something o' that sort. She'll say the rest!!!" * * * * * [Illustration: NONE BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE FARE] * * * * * [Illustration: PLAYING DOWN TO HIM.--_Young couple (who expect the visit of a very miserly relative, from whom they have expectations) are clearing the room of every sign of luxury._ _Wife (earnestly)._ "We must do all we can to make uncle feel at home." _Husband (caustically)._ "Then we had better let the fire out."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Fair Widow._ "Yes, I've made up my mind that when I die I shall be cremated, as my husband was." _Gallant Captain._ "Dear lady, please don't talk about such dreadful things. Consider how much better it would be, in your case, to--er--_cross out the C!_"] * * * * * _Visitor (to Friend lately left a Widower)._--"Hullo, Tom! That looks a stiffish bill you've got there!" _Tom._ "Ah, how those rascals of undertakers do fleece you! They know you can hardly help yourself! Of course, in my poor wife's case I would cheerfully have paid double. But one hates to be done.--Um!" * * * * * A WIFE'S VOCATION.--Husbandry. * * * * * [Illustration: A DECLARATION "Louisa, you've stolen something." "Go on!" "You 'ave." "You're a----! _What_ 'ave I stole?" "_My 'eart!_"] * * * * * MARRIAGE MEMORIES _What the Father says._--Which side must I stand on when I give her away? _What the Mother says._--I am sure the ices will be late for the breakfast. _What the Sister says._--I flatter myself I am the best looking of the eight bridesmaids. _What the Brother says._--Of course, the best man is behind his time--just like him! _What the Pew-opener says._--This way, my dear young lady! _What the Beadle says._--They are sure to be in time, sir. I will motion to you the moment I see 'em a coming. _What the Clergyman says._--Have you got the ring? _What the Crowd says._--Hoorray! That's 'er! Oh, ain't 'e a guy! _What the Old Friend of the Family says._--I have known him too since he was so high. That was nigh upon forty years ago! _What the Funny Man says._--You can see from my face that I am just the man to be associated with the bridesmaids. _What the Best Man says._--Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking. _What the Bride says._--Good-bye, my own darling mamma and papa, and--Emmy dear, please _do_ see the things are all right before we start. _What the Bridegroom says._--Thank goodness, it is all over. * * * * * [Illustration: "DECEIVERS EVER" _Goldsmith._ "Would you like any name or motto engraved on it, sir?" _Customer_ (_who had chosen an engagement ring_). "Ye--yes--um--'Augustus to Irene.' And--ah--loo' here--don't--ah--cut 'Irene' very deep!!"] * * * * * A SCIENTIFIC WOOER "Drink to me only with thine eyes"-- And if you happen to survive a So curious potion, pray advise How it affects the conjunctiva! This problem, which my mind absorbs, A veritable Gordian knot is: How can maids swallow with their orbs? Where's the protecting epiglottis? "I sent thee late a rosy wreath"-- For Science' sake, my Angelina, And hope you noticed underneath Those buds of _rosa damascena._ No high-flown zeal my soul uplifts, And as for ardour, I've not got any;-- I simply send you floral gifts To help you forward with your botany! * * * * * THE FLIRT'S PARADISE.--Coquet Island. * * * * * [Illustration: SO SWEET OF HER! _Lady_ (_recently married, in answer to congratulations of visiting lady friend_). "Thank you, dear. But I still find it very hard to remember my new name." _Friend._ "Ah, dear, but of course you had the old one so long!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Oh, George dear, the landlord has raised the rent!" "Has he? _I_ can't!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EVIDENCE OF AN EYE-WITNESS _Guest._ "Why do you believe in second sight, Major?" _Major Darby_ (_in an impressive whisper_). "Because _I_ fell in love at _first_ sight!"] * * * * * [Illustration: FULL MOON] [Illustration: FIRST QUARTER] [Illustration: THIRD QUARTER] [Illustration: NO MOON] * * * * * THE BRUTE CREATION.--Husbands who beat their wives. * * * * * THE HEIGHT OF MODESTY.--The most bashful girl we ever knew was one who blushed when she was asked if she had not been courting sleep. * * * * * [Illustration: "_Are_ you comin' 'ome?" "I'll do ellythik you _like_ in reasol, M'ria--(_hic_)--bur I _won't_ come 'ome."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Harold._ "And now, darling, tell me what your father said when you told him we were engaged." _Sybil._ "Oh, Harold, don't ask me to repeat his language!"] * * * * * TO ALL THE OTHER GIRLS You know, I like you awfully, Jess, Phyllis, the same applies to you, To Edith and to Mary no less, Also to others, not a few. Yet some of you are rather "mad," You choose to feel, I understand, a Slight sense of injury, since I've had The glorious luck to win Amanda. I wish, sincerely, it were not Impossible for me to fall In love with _some_ of you--a _lot_-- In fact I'd gladly love you _all_! But, when you come to think it out, I'm sure my reasoning will strike you, You'll find it, I can have no doubt, More flattering that I should like you. Fate sends their wives to poor and rich, Fate does not send them thus their friends; Then let my final couplet (which I rather fancy) make amends. This fundamental truth, I trust, My seeming fickleness excuses-- One simply loves because one _must_ Whereas one likes because one _chooses_! * * * * * [Illustration: HIGHLY SATISFACTORY _Mistress._ "I'm sorry for you, John; but if your wife has got such a dreadful temper, why did you marry her?" _Coachman_ (_the Fourth Husband_). "Well, mum, I had three good characters with her?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _A._ "That's Jones's daughter with him. She's just about to be married." _B._ "Who's the lucky man?" _A._ "Jones."] * * * * * [Illustration: A FESTIVE PROSPECT! _Husband._ "Didn't I tell you not to invite your mother back in my----" _Wife._ "Dear, that's the very thing she's come about! She read your letter!" [_Tableau._ ] * * * * * VALENTINE'S DAY--THEN AND NOW [Illustration: DOMESTIC TIE] THEN--THIRTY YEARS AGO. _Family assembled._ _Paterfamilias._ Post nearly two hours late! Really disgraceful! _Materfamilias._ Well, dear, remember it's only once a year, and we used to enjoy it ourselves before we were married! _Eldest Daughter._ I got half-a-dozen last year. I dare say I shall get twice as many this. _Second Daughter._ I dare say! I believe you send them yourself! _Eldest Daughter._ So probable! How can you think of such silly things! And how spiteful of you! _Son and Heir._ Don't quarrel, girls! And here's the post. _Enter servant with heaps of letters, which are eagerly seized and distributed._ _Chorus._ What are they? _Paterfamilias_ (_disgusted at his budget_). Valentines! NOW--TO-DAY. _Family assembled as before._ _Paterfamilias._ The fourteenth of February. Dear me, surely this is a memorable date--somehow. _Materfamilias._ To be sure, father. It's Valentine's Day. _Eldest Daughter._ Is it really true, mother, that people used to receive pictures just as we do Christmas cards? _Second Daughter._ Come, _you_ can surely remember. It's not so very long for you. _Eldest Daughter._ Don't be spiteful! Remember, miss, there's only a couple of years between us! _Second Daughter._ Really! From our appearance there might be a decade! _Son and Heir._ Don't quarrel, girls! And here's the post! _Enter servant with a solitary letter._ _Chorus._ What is it? _Paterfamilias_ (_perusing a bill_). Not a Valentine! * * * * * "THE ACT OF UNION."--Getting married. * * * * * [Illustration: _That dear old Mrs. Wilkinson_ (_who can't always express exactly what she means to say, meeting Jones with the girl of his choice_). "And is this young lady your _fiasco_, Mr. Jones?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown._ "I say, old man, who's that very plain elderly lady you were walking with--now sitting here?" _Smith_ (_the impecunious, who has married money_). "Oh, that's my wife." _Brown._ "Your wife! But"--(_lowering his voice_)--"She has only one eye--and so awfully--I beg your pardon--but----" _Smith_ (_pleasantly_). "You needn't whisper, old man. She's _deaf_"] * * * * * LOVE IN LACONICS _He._ Love you! Have me, dear? _She._ Humph! How much a year? _He._ Three hundred! Expectations. _She._ Tales of hope! Relations? _He._ Aunt. Ten thousand pounder. Eighty. Always found her Liberal. Thinks me Crichton, Seedy now at Brighton. Made her will,--a right 'un! _She._ Ah! _Aunt_-icipations,-- Like _x_ in equations-- Unknown quantity? Question! Let me see, Love + "screw" + _x_ (Latter for expecs) Equals Me + You! Hardly think 'twill do! Do not wish to vex, But,--first find out _x_! _He._ If I prove _x_ ample-- _She._ I'll no longer trample On your hopes. _He._ Agreed! _She._ Hope you may succeed! * * * * * THE RESULT OF AN IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE (_by our own Matrimonial Adviser_).--County Court-ship. * * * * * [Illustration: _Ethel._ "Why, what's the matter, Gertrude?" _Gertrude._ "Oh, nothing. Only Jack and I had a quarrel the other day, and I wrote and told him never to dare to speak or write to me again,---- and the wretch hasn't even had the decency to answer my letter!"] * * * * * THE IDEAL HUSBAND My dear Ethel,--You ask me what "sort of a husband" I recommend. My dear, ask me the name of a dressmaker, of a doctor, or of a (ugh!) dentist, and I can tell you precisely. I can name the man. But what sort of a husband! Well, after sifting the matter carefully, and after looking before _you_ leap, and after an experience of some few years of married life, I say, decidedly, choose a man . . . [Illustration: WHO LIKES TO GO SHOPPING.] You will find him very useful if managed judiciously; he will prove an immense saving to you, as if you went alone you would have to tip porters, and squabble with cabmen. Then from a certain view I should advise some of those "about to marry" to select a man who has no club. But this is an exceptional case. Finally, if you wish to be strictly economical, and to live in the suburbs, or in the country, and if your husband has no occupation or profession, then I should say, in order that you may attend assiduously to your domestic duties, which include visiting, five o'clock teas, and so forth, then ascertain that your husband is of a maternal disposition, and one . . . [Illustration: WHO DOES THIS.] If I think of anything else I will let you know. But, above all, please yourself, and by so doing you will delight . . . [Illustration] Yours affectionately, DORA. * * * * * [Illustration: "OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN," &c. _Parson_ (_to Ne'er-do-weel_). "What's this I hear, Giles--that your wife has left you! Ah! this is what I----" _Giles._ "She might do worse than that, sir." _Parson_ (_shocked_). "Worse!" _Giles._ "She might come back again!"] * * * * * TO A RICH YOUNG WIDOW. I will not ask if thou canst touch The tuneful ivory key? Those silent notes of thine are such As quite suffice for me. I'll make no question if thy skill The pencil comprehends, Enough for me, love, if thou still Canst draw thy dividends! * * * * * "SO SELFISH?"--_Husband_ (_with pride_). "My love, I've been effecting--I've insured my life to-day for ten thousand pou----" _Young Wife._ "Just like the men! Always looking out for themselves! I think--you might have insured mine while you were about it!!" * * * * * BY A FASHIONABLE YOUNG MARRIED WOMAN.--The latest thing out--My husband. * * * * * CELIBACY AND WEDLOCK.--If single life is bad, then it stands to reason that double life is twice as bad. * * * * * EMPLOYMENT FOR WOMEN.--Matchmaking. * * * * * [Illustration: VERY NECESSARY _Young Wife._ "I'm so happy! I wonder you never married." _Elderly Spinster._ "My child, I've always said I never _would_ and never _could_ marry until I met a man different from other men and full of courage." _Young Wife._ "Of course you couldn't. How stupid of me."] * * * * * THE "OFF" SEASON Daphne, that day Do you remember (Then it was May, Now it's November) Plighting our troth Nothing should sever; Binding us both Firmly, for ever? Yes, I allow Strephon's more showy;-- As for me, now I prefer Chloe. Yet, if men say "Fickle," remember Then it was May, Now it's November. * * * * * PAPER FOR THE NEWLY-MARRIED.--_The Economist._ * * * * * "À PROPOS!"--_Sententious Old Bachelor_ (_in the course of conversation_). "As the 'old saw' has it, my dear madam, 'Man proposes, but----'" _Widow_ (_promptly_). "Yes; but that's just what he doesn't do!" (_Tableau!_) * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE DIVORCE COURT.--Marry, and come up! * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "But, George, suppose papa settles my dowry on me in my own right?" _He._ "Well, my dear girl, it's--er--nothing to me if he does!"] * * * * * LOVE LETTERS OF A BUSINESS MAN. [Illustration: ABOUT TO ENTER THE BRIDAL STATE] The course of true love, though beset with almost insurmountable obstacles, often rewards the faithful lovers at the last with supreme happiness. But, alas! sometimes the said true love proves naught but a toboggan-slide leading to a precipice, into which the true lovers' hopes are hurled and dashed into atomic smithereens. We have before us a volume of a "Business Man's Love Letters," a few extracts from which we give below. Reader, if you have a tear, prepare to shed it now! The burning passion which surges in the lover's heart, though embodied in phrases habitually used by a business man, is sure to touch your soul. But presently comes the pathetic ending, when she is no longer anything to him, and he--to use the imperfect but comprehensive vernacular--is to her as "dead as a door nail." Reader, read on! I. _August_ 1, 1899. DEAR MISS SMYTHE,--With reference to my visit last evening at the house of Mr. John Jorkins, our mutual friend, when I had the pleasure of meeting you. Having been much charmed by your conversation and general attractiveness, I beg to inquire whether you will allow me to cultivate the acquaintanceship further. Awaiting the favour of your esteemed reply, Yours faithfully, JOHN GREEN. II. _August_ 3, 1899. MY DEAR MISS SMYTHE,--I beg to acknowledge with many thanks receipt of your letter of even date, contents of which I note with much pleasure. I hope to call this evening at 7.15 p.m., when I trust to find you at home. With kindest regards, I beg to remain, Yours very truly, JOHN GREEN. III. _August_ 21, 1899. MY DEAREST EVELINA,--Referring to our conversation this evening when you consented to become my wife. I beg to confirm the arrangement then made, and would suggest the wedding should take place within the ensuing six months. No doubt you will give the other necessary details your best consideration, and will communicate your views to me in due course. Trusting there is every happiness before us, I remain, Your darling Chickabiddy, JOHN. IV. _August_ 22, 1899. MY OWNEST TOOTSEY-WOOTSEY,--Enclosed please find 22-carat gold engagement ring, set with thirteen diamonds and three rubies, receipt of which kindly acknowledge by return. Trusting same will give every satisfaction, I am, Your only lovey-dovey, JOHNNY. X X X X X X Kindly note kisses. V. _November_ 24, 1899. MY SWEETEST EVELINA,--I am duly in receipt of your letter of 20th inst., which I regret was not answered before owing to pressure of business. In reply thereto I beg to state that I do love you dearly, and only you, and also no one else in all the world. Further I shall have much pleasure in continuing to love you for evermore, and no one else in all the world. Trusting to see you this evening as usual and in good health. I am, Your ownest own, JOHN. VI. _January_ 4, 1900. TO MISS SMYTHE, MADAM,--In accordance with the intention expressed in my letter of yesterday, I duly forwarded addressed to you a parcel containing all letters, etc., received from you, and presume they have been safely delivered. I have received to-day, per carrier, a parcel containing various letters which I have written to you from time to time. No doubt it was your intention to despatch the complete number written by me, but I notice one dated August 21 is not included. Will you kindly forward the letter in question by return, when I will send you a full receipt? Yours faithfully, JOHN GREEN. VII. _January_ 6, 1900. TO MISS SMYTHE, MADAM,--I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letter of yesterday, and note your object in retaining my letter of August 21 last. As I intend to defend the issue in the case, I shall do as you request, and will leave all further communications to be made through my solicitors. Yours, &c., JOHN GREEN. VIII. 15, _Peace Court, Temple, E.C._ Messrs. BANG, CRASH & Co., _9a, Quarrel Row, E.C._ _Smythe_ v. _Green_. GENTLEMEN,--We are in receipt of your communication of yesterday's date, with which you enclose copy of letter dated August 21. We note that you state the document in question has been duly stamped at Somerset House, and are writing our client this evening with a view to offering your client terms, through you, to stay the proceedings which have been commenced. Yours faithfully, BLITHERS, BLATHERS, BLOTHERS & Co. * * * * * STRANGE BUT TRUE.--When does a husband find his wife out? When he finds her at home and she doesn't expect him. * * * * * [Illustration: DOMESTIC BLISS _Head of the Family._ "For what we are going to receive, make us truly thankful.--Hem! Cold mutton again!" _Wife of the Bussum._ "And a very good dinner too, Alexander. _Somebody_ must be economical. _People_ can't expect to have _Richmond_ and _Greenwich_ dinners out of the little housekeeping money _I_ have."] * * * * * [Illustration: "AN ENGLISH MAN'S HOUSE," Etc. Maid (looking over wall to newly married couple just returned from their honeymoon). "Oh please'm, that dog was sent here yesterday as a wedding present; and none of us can't go near him. You'll have to go round the back way!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUTION _Married Sister._ "And of course, Laura, you will go to Rome or Florence for your honeymoon?" _Laura._ "Oh dear, no! I couldn't think of going further than the Isle of Wight with a man I know little or nothing of!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LOVE'S PROMPTINGS _Edwin_ (_recit_). "'There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee. Thou standest alone, as the nightingale sings!'" &c., &c. _Angelina_ (_amorously_). "Oh, Edwin, how _do_ you think of such beautiful things?"] * * * * * [Illustration: DIFFERENT ASPECTS _She._ "Isn't it a pretty view?" _Susceptible Youth._ "Awfully pretty, by Jove!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MARRIED _v._ SINGLE _Bee_ (_single_). "Why do you wear a pink blouse, dear? It makes you look so yellow!" _Bella_ (_married_). "Does it, dear? Of course you can make _your_ complexion suit _any_ blouse, can't you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "My people are bothering me to marry Miss Mayford." _She._ "You'd be very lucky if you did. She is very clever and very beautiful----" _He._ "Oh! _I_ don't want to marry brains and beauty. I want to marry _you_."] * * * * * [Illustration: AN AMBIGUOUS COMPLIMENT _Miss Beekley._ "I'm so glad _I'm_ not an heiress, Mr. Soper. I should never know whether my suitors were attracted by myself or my money." _Mr. Soper._ "Oh, Miss Beekley, your mirror should leave you in no doubt on that score!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Bulkley._ "Yes; her parents persuaded her, and it's all over between us." _Sympathetic Friend._ "She can't have realised what a lot she was giving up."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Wife._ "I hope you talked plainly to him." _Husband._ "I did indeed. _I_ told him he was a fool, a perfect fool!" _Wife_ (_approvingly_). "Dear John! How exactly like you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE OLD, OLD STORY! _The Colonel._ "Yes; _he_ was senior wrangler of his year, and _she_ took a mathematical scholarship at Girton; and now they're engaged!" _Mrs. Jones._ "Dear me, how interesting! and oh, how different their conversation must be from the insipid twaddle of ordinary lovers!" THEIR CONVERSATION _He._ "And what would _dovey_ do, if lovey were to _die_?" _She._ "Oh, dovey would die _too_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: NEEDLESSLY POINTED _Sympathetic Friend._ "Well, my dear, I'm sure your mother will miss you sadly after your _having been with her so long_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ALTRUISM _Maud_ (_newly married_). "You look very melancholy, George; are you sorry you married me?" _George._ "No, dear--of course not. I was only thinking of all the nice girls I can't marry." _Maud._ "Oh, George, how horrid of you! I thought you cared for nobody but me?" _George._ "No more I do. I wasn't thinking of myself, but of the disappointment for _them_."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones_ (_newly married_). "There's my darling playing the guitar."] [Illustration: (_But it wasn't. It was only the garden roller over the gravel!_)] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _Jones._ "I will!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Jenks_ (_who likes Miss Constance_). "No, I assure you, Miss Constance, I have _never_ indulged in flirtation." _Miss Constance_ (_who does_ not _care for Mr. Jenks_). "Ah, perhaps you have never had any _encouragement_!"] * * * * * THE LUXURY OF LIBERTY.--_Bosom Friend._ "Well, dear, now that you are a widow, tell me are you any the happier for it?" _Interesting Widow._ "Oh! no. But I have my freedom, and that's a great comfort. Do you know, my dear, I had an onion yesterday for the first time these fourteen years?" * * * * * "THE SILLY SEASON."--The Honeymoon. * * * * * CONSOLATION.--_Mother-in-law._ "I'll be bound that Robert--I've lost all patience with him--never dined with you on Michaelmas-day, my dear?" _Daughter._ "No, mamma, but he sent me home a goose." _Mother-in-law._ "Psha! Done in a fit of absence, my dear." * * * * * THE HUSBAND'S REVENGE _A Warning to Wives who will keep bad Cooks_ Provisions raw Long time he bore: Remonstrance was in vain; To escape the scrub He join'd a club: Nor dined at home again. * * * * * MATRIMONY (_by our Musical Cynic_).--The common c(h)ord of two flats. * * * * * [Illustration: DOMESTIC BLISS _Little Foot Page_ (_unexpectedly_). "Here's some gentlemen, please, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Can I go abroad to finish, ma?" "No. It's time you were married--and men don't care how ill-educated a woman is." "You shouldn't judge everybody by pa, ma!"] * * * * * [Illustration: LEAVING THE PARENTAL NEST _The Bride's Father_ (_to Bridegroom_). "Oh, John, you'll take _care_ of her, _won't_ you!"] * * * * * REFLECTIONS ON A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT We parted--cheerfully! Yet now I've fallen into disrepute With nearly all her friends, who vow That she's an angel, I'm a brute; Black isn't black enough for me My conduct will not bear inspection-- A statement which I hold to be Fair food for critical reflection. We parted. The consummate ease With which "united hearts" can range From their allegiance, if they please, But illustrates the laws of change. The thoughts and tastes of yester year Fall under Father Time's correction-- This is not critical, I fear, But platitudinous reflection! We parted. She had quite a pack Of friends, "nice boys," as she avowed; She called them Bob, and Dick, and Jack, And I was--one amongst the crowd. I did not, people may infer, Possess entire her young affection-- Yet, be it understood, on her I cast no shadow of reflection! We parted. Men cannot persist-- In playing uncongenial parts-- I was a keen philatelist, Her hobby was collecting--hearts A simple case. I did not pine To add my heart to her collection, She had no stamps to add to mine, We parted--wisely, on reflection! * * * * * CURIOUS DISTINCTION.--The English love; the French make love.--_Madame Punch._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Grumble._ "I see by the paper that Mount Vesuvius is in eruption." _Mrs. G._ "Oh, I'm _so_ glad!" _Mr. G._ "There you are again, Maria. Now why on earth should you be glad?" _Mrs. G._ "Well, you can't blame _me_ for it that's all!"] * * * * * [Illustration: OLD FRIENDS _He._ "Do you remember your old school-friend Sophy Smythe?" _She._ "Yes, indeed, I do. A most absurd-looking thing. So silly too! What became of her?" _He._ "Oh, nothing. Only--I married her."] * * * * * [Illustration: IN THE SAME BOAT "I don't think she's pretty." "Neither do I." (_After a pause._) "Did she refuse you too?"] * * * * * GREAT EXPECTATIONS.--_Ethel_ (_youngest daughter_). "Oh, pa dear, what did Geo---- what did young Mr. Brown want?" _Pa._ "Secret, my love. 'Wished to speak to me privately!" _Ethel._ "Oh, pa, but do tell me--'cause he was so very attentive to me before you came in--and then asked me to leave the room." _Pa._ "Well, my dear"--(_in a whisper_)--"he'd left his purse at the office, and wanted to borrow eighteenpence to pay his train home!" * * * * * "SHARP'S THE WORD!"--_Wife._ "Poor mamma is dreadfully low-spirited this morning, George. Only think--she has just expressed a wish to be cremated!" _Husband_ (_with alacrity_). "'O'b-less my----" (_Throwing down his newspaper._) "Tell her to put her things on, dear! I'll--I'll drive her over at once!!" * * * * * [Illustration: ON THE CARDS _Young Wife._ "Oh, mamma, do you know I believe Alfred's going to reform, and give up gambling!" _Her Mother._ "What makes you think so, dear?" _Young Wife._ "Why all last night he kept talking in his sleep about his miserable, worthless heart!"] * * * * * PROFESSIONAL LOVE-LETTERS [Illustration: LOOKING AFTER THE CHAPS] I _From_ MR. NORMAN DORMER, _Architect and Surveyor, to_ MISS CAROLINE TOWER. MY PRECIOUS, Pity me who must stay and fret in London, while you are enjoying yourself at Broadstairs. How I long to be there, surveying the ocean by your side, and tracing your dear name on the sands! But fate and a father have placed a barrier between us. So I pace up and down before the old house in T---- Square, and look up at a certain dormitory on the second story--in no state of elevation you may be sure--and make plans for the future, and build castles in the air, and try to forget that my designs on your heart appear ridiculous to your papa, whose estimate of me I am aware is not in excess. For can I forget what he said that wet Saturday afternoon in the back drawing-room, when I tendered myself to him as a son-in-law, and the tender was not accepted? After telling him that it was the summit, the pinnacle of my ambition to win you as my wife, did he not answer that he considered I ought not to aspire to your hand until the statement of my pecuniary means (as he worded it) was more satisfactory, and, meanwhile, requested me to discontinue my pointed attentions? Never until _you_ bid me. Only be firm, and the difficulties now in our way will but serve to cement us more closely together; only be true and I will wait patiently for that day which shall put the coping-stone to my happiness. I build upon every word, every look, every smile I can call to mind. You _will_ write and assure me there is no foundation for the report of another and more fortunate competitor, but that I still fill the same niche in your affections I ever did? For, Caroline, were I to hear you were an "engaged" Tower, I could not survive the blow. I should stab myself with my compasses in the back office. But away with such gloomy fears. Let me picture her to myself. How plumb she stands! How arch she looks! What a beam in her eye! What a graceful curve in her neck! What an exquisitely chiselled nose! What a brick of a girl altogether! I must stop in my specification, or you will think there is something wrong in my upper story, and not give credence to a word I say. I have just been calling on your sister, and saw your little pet Poppy, who talked in her pretty _Early English_ about "Tant Tarry." Aunt Sarah was there, staying the day, looking as mediæval as ever, and with her hair dressed in the usual Decorated style. She hinted that you were imperious, and that any man who married you must make up his mind (grim joke) to fetch and Carry at your bidding. And then you were so ambitious! The wiseacre! why, I will leave no stone unturned to get on in my profession if you will only be constant. I will be the architect of my own fortunes--your love the keystone of my prosperity. The columns of every newspaper shall record my success; every capital in Europe shall know my name. She did not unhinge me a bit, and the shafts of her ridicule fell harmless; although, she made an allusion to "dumpy" men, which I knew was levelled at me, and sneered at married life as very pretty for a time, but the stucco soon fell off. Poor Aunt Sarah! I left her sitting up quite perpendicular with that everlasting work which she is always herring-boning. And now, Carry, darling--oh, dear! I am wanted about something in our designs for the new Law Courts, and have only time to sign myself, Your own, till Domesday, NORMAN. II _From_ MR. ALFRED PYE, _Professed Man Cook, to_ MISS MARTHA BROWNING. What a stew I was in all Friday, when no letter came from my Patty! Everything went wrong. I made a hash of one of my _entrées_, and the _chef_, who guessed the cause of my confusion, roasted me so that at last I boiled over, and gave him rather a tart answer, for, as you know, I am at times a little too peppery. Thy sweet note, when it _did_ arrive, made all right. I believe I was quite foolish, and went capering about with delight. And then I cooled down, and composed a new _soufflé_. So you see I do not fritter away _all_ my time, whatever those malicious people who are so ready to carp at me may think. You say you always like to know where I go in an evening. Well, I went to the Trotters last night, and Fanny played the accompaniment, and I sang--how it made me think of you!--"_Good-bye, Sweetbread, good-bye!_" (How absurd! Do you see what I have written instead of _"Sweetheart"_? All the force of habit. It will remind you of that night at Cookham, when we were the top couple in the supper quadrille, and I shouted, "Now, Side-dishes, begin!" and everybody roared except a certain young lady, who looked a trifle vexed. Don't you remember that Spring? You must, because the young potatoes were so small.) Your _protégé_, Peter, goes on famously. He's a broth of a boy, not a pickle, like many lads of his age, and yet he won't stand being sauced, as he calls it. He and I nearly got parted at the station, for the crowd was very great after the races--in fact, a regular jam. It rained hard when we reached Sandwich, and I got dripping wet, for I had forgotten my waterproof, and there was not a cab to be had. But now the weather has changed again, and we are half baked. A broiling sun and not a puff of wind. There was no one in the train I knew. Some small fry stuffing buns all the way, and opposite me a girl who had her hair crimped just like yours, and wore exactly the same sort of scalloped jacket. A raw young man with her, evidently quite spooney; and they larded their talk with rather too many "loves" and "dears" for my taste, for you know _we_ are never tender in public. It grated _so_ on my ear, that at last I made some harmless joke to try and stop it, but mademoiselle, who spoke in that mincing way you detest, turtled up, so I held my tongue all the rest of the way, and amused myself with looking at your _carte_, and concocting one of my own for our great dinner on the 29th, for the _chef_ has gone to Spithead, and left all to me. And now, my duck, not to mince matters, when I have got that off my mind (if the dinner is only as well dressed as you, it will do), you must fix the day. I am quite unsettled. I cannot concentrate my thoughts on my gravies as I ought, and my desserts are anything but meritorious. All your fault, miss. You are as slippery as an eel. I must have it all arranged when I come up to the City next week. I have some business in the Poultry, but shall slip away as soon as I can, and bring your mother the potted grouse and chutney. ("Cunning man," I hear you say, "he wants to curry favour with mamma.") And you will do what I ask? Where shall we go for our wedding trip?--Strasbourg, Turkey, Cayenne, Westphalia, Worcestershire? Perhaps, I think most of coming back to the little house which I know somebody will always keep in apple-pie order, and of covers for two; and I shall admire the pretty filbert-nails while she peels my nuts, and we will both give up our flirtations, mere _entremets_, and sit down soberly to enjoy that substantial _pièce de résistance_ -- Matrimony. Do you like the _menu_? Then, my lamb, say "yes" to Your own ALFRED. P.S.--I know my temper is rather short, but then think of my crust! And it speaks well for me that I would rather be roasted fifty times than buttered once. I _do_ hate flummery, certainly. * * * * * [Illustration: _Partner of his Joys_ (_who has superintended the removal_). "Well, dear, you haven't said how you like the new flat!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _She._ "It's no use bothering me, Jack. I shall marry whom I please." _He._ "That's all I'm asking you to do, my dear. You please me well enough!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNFORESEEN MATRIMONIAL CONTINGENCY _Angelina._ "Did you ever see anything so wonderful as the likeness between old Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy, Edwin? One would think they were brother and sister, instead of husband and wife!" _Edwin._ "Married people always grow like each other in time, darling. It's very touching and beautiful to behold!" _Angelina (not without anxiety)._ "Dear me! And is it _invariably_ the case, my love?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Widow's Intended._ "Well, Tommy, has your mother told you of my good fortune." _Tommy._ "No. She only said she was going to marry you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Young Muddleigh, who has been out buying underwear for his personal use, purchases at the same establishment some flowers for his ladye-love--leaving a note to be enclosed. Imagine Young Muddleigh's horror, on returning to dress, to discover that the underwear had been sent with the note, and the flowers to him! Muddleigh discovered, repeating slowly to himself the contents of the note_:--"Please wear these this evening, for my sake!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "IS IT A FAILURE?" _Mamma_ (_their last unmarried daughter having just accepted an offer_). "Well, George, now the girls are all happily settled, I think we may consider ourselves fortunate, and that marriage isn't----" _Papa_ (_a pessimist_). "Um--'don't know! Four families to keep 'stead of one!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SO FRIVOLOUS! _Wife._ "Solomon, I have a bone to pick with you." _Solomon_ (_flippantly_) "With pleasure, my dear, so long as it's a funny bone!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "HUSBANDS IN WAITING"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Stout Wife._ "I shall never get through here, James. If you were half a man, you would lift me over!" _Husband._ "If you were half a woman, my dear, it would be easier!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Was he very much cast down after he'd spoken to papa?" "Yes. Three flights of stairs!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SCORED" _Little Wife._ "Now, Fred dear, I'm ready." _Lazy Husband._ "I'm awfully sorry, dear; but I _must_ stay in, as I'm expecting a friend every minute." _Little Wife_ (_sarcastically_). "A friend every minute! Heavens, Fred! What a crowd of friends you'll have by the end of the day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DECIDEDLY PLEASANT _Genial Youth._ "I say, Gubby, old chap, is this really true about your going to marry my sister Edie?" _Gubbins._ "Yes, Tommy. It's all settled. But why do you ask?" _G. Y._ "Oh! only because I shall have such a jolly slack time now! You know _I've_ pulled off nearly all her engagements so far, only you're the first one who's been a _real stayer_!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "The joke was, both these girls were hopelessly in love with me, and I made them madly jealous of each other." _She._ "I wonder you had the face to do it, Mr. Sparkins!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "WE FELL OUT, MY WIFE AND I" _He._ "That's absurd! Do you think I'm as big a fool as I look?" _She._ "I think that if you aren't, you have a great deal to be thankful for!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SUCH AN EXAMPLE _Wife_ (_to husband, who has barked his shins violently against the bed, and is muttering something to himself_). "Oh, Jack, how _can_ you! Supposing baby were to hear you!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _She_ (_after they have walked three miles without a word being spoken_). "Aw say, John, tha'art very quoiet. Has nowt fur to say?" _He._ "What mun aw say? Aw dunno know." _She._ "Say that tha loves me." _He._ "It's a'reet _sayin_' aw love thee, but aw dunno loike tellin' loies!"] * * * * * WHAT TO WEAR ON YOUR WEDDING DAY. (By a Confirmed and Cantankerous Celibate) Married in white, You have hooked him all right. Married in grey, He will ne'er get away. Married in black, He will wish himself back. Married in red, He will wish himself dead. Married in green, _His_ true colour is seen. Married in blue, _He_ will look it, not _you_. Married in pearl, He the distaff will twirl. Married in yellow, Poor fellow! Poor fellow! Married in brown, Down, down, derry down. Married in pink, To a slave he will sink. Married in crimson, He'll dangle your whims on. Married in buff, He will soon have enough. Married in scarlet, Poor victimised varlet! Married in violet, purple, or puce, It doesn't much matter, they _all_ mean--the deuce! * * * * * [Illustration: A CASE OF GREAT INTEREST AT SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM STUDY FROM LIFE] * * * * * [Illustration: A ROMANCE OF ROAST DUCKS "My darling, will you take a little of the--a--the stuffing?" "I will, dear, if you do; but if you don't, I won't."] * * * * * THE REAL FALL OF MAN.--Falling in love! * * * * * QUALIFYING A SWEEPING ASSERTION.--_Sophie_ (_after hearing about Frank_). "I declare I shall not believe a word a man says to me. They're _all_ liars!" _Beatrice._ "For shame, Sophie!" _Sophie_ (_regretfully_). "At least all the _nice_ ones are!" * * * * * [Illustration: INGRATITUDE _Brown._ "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!" _Smith._ "Used to; but I introduced him to the girl he married. Neither of them recognises me now!"] * * * * * ADVICE TO YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS.--Put your washing out if you do not wish your husband to be put out. * * * * * CONGRUOUS COUPLES. If there's a well-matched pair in married life It is a horsey man and nagging wife. * * * * * APT ILLUSTRATION.--Idealism and Realism: Courtship and Marriage. * * * * * FAR FROM IT.--The woman who is bent on marrying a man because he is a lion, should remember that it does not necessarily follow that she will become a lioness. * * * * * OVER-SCRUPULOUS.--"My husband is Vicar of St. Boniface--but I don't attend his church." "Indeed! How is that?" "The fact is, I--I don't approve of married clergymen!" * * * * * "HOME RULE."--Petticoat government. * * * * * CALF-LOVE Calf-love is a passion most people scorn, Who've loved, and outlived, life and love's young morn; But there _is_ a calf-love too common by half, And that's the love of the Golden Calf! * * * * * [Illustration: HE HAD BEEN KICKED OUT ONCE _She._ "Wot time be you a-coming round to-night, Jock?" _Jock._ "What time does y'r old man put 'is slippers on?"] * * * * * MRS. NAGGLETON'S ADVICE TO A WIFE.--Defiance, not defence. * * * * * LONG ODDS.--Tall husband and short wife. * * * * * WORDS TO A WIFE Love, thou'rt like yet unlike mutton, Likewise beef, and veal, and lamb. Do not answer that the glutton I bespeak me that I am. They in price, year after year, are Rising, thou must needs allow; Butcher's meat grows ever dearer: So, and yet not so, dost thou. For although my annual payment To my butcher waxeth still, Less and less each time for raiment, Wanes thy linendraper's bill. Thus by thrift expense thou meetest; Whence thy wisdom doth appear: Also, that I find thee, sweetest, Cheaper still and still more dear. * * * * * ÆSTHETICS OF DRESS.--_Customer_ (_he has been bidden to a wedding, and can't make up his mind in the matter of trouser patterns, but at last says_). "O, there! that'll do, I sh'd think!" _Tailor._ "Pardon me, sir; if you are going to be 'best man,' the shade is hardly tender enough!" * * * * * [Illustration: TURTLE-DOVETAILING ["The latest development of phrenological enterprise is the establishment of a phrenological matrimonial bureau, to secure the introduction of persons desiring to be married to partners with suitable or harmonious phrenological endowments."--_Daily Paper._] _Miss Evergreen_ (_who has been introduced to Mr. Slowboy_). "Well, it may be a lovely head, but ain't he got a big bump of _cautiousness_!"] * * * * * THE DIVORCE SHOP "A nation of shopkeepers!" Well, that old jeer May fall with small sting on an Englishman's ear, For 'tis commerce that keeps the world going. But _this_ kind of shop? By his _bâton_ and hunch, The thought of it sickens the spirit of _Punch_, And sets his cheek angrily glowing. The Philistines, Puritans, Podsnaps, and Prigs Of Britain play up some preposterous rigs, And tax e'en cosmopolite charity. But here is a business that's not to be borne; Its mead is the flail and the vial of scorn, Not chaffing or Christmas hilarity. The skunk _not_ indigenous, sirs, to our Isle? The assertion might well bring a cynical smile To the lips of a critical Yankee. The vermin is here; he has set up a shop, And seems doing a prosperous trade, which to stop Demands more than mere law's hanky-panky. Poor law's tangled up in long coils of red tape, She's the butt for each Jeremy Diddler's coarse jape, Every filthy Paul Pry's ghoulish giggle. John Bull, my fine fellow, wake up, and determine To stamp out the lives of the venomous vermin Who round your home-hearth writhe and wriggle. 'Ware snakes! No, _Punch_ begs the ophidian's pardon! The slimiest slug in the filthiest garden Is not so revolting as these are, These ultra-reptilian rascals, who spy Round our homes, and, for pay, would, with treacherous eye, Find flaws in the wife e'en of Cæsar. Find? Well, if unable to _find_ they will _make_. No, the loathliest asp that e'er lurked in the brake To spring on the passer unwary, Was not such an _anguis in herbâ_ as this is, Mean worm, which of all warning rattles and hisses Is so calculatingly chary. The spy sets up shop! And what has he for sale? False evidence meant to weight justice's scale, Eavesdroppings, astute fabrications, The figments of vile keyhole varlets, the fudge Of venal vindictiveness. Faugh! the foul sludge Reeks rank as the swamp's exhalations. Paul Pry, with a poison-fang, ready to bite In the pay of home-hate or political spite, Is a portent as mean as malignant. The villain is vermin scarce worthy of steel, His head should lie crushed 'neath the merciless heel Of honesty hotly indignant. * * * * * [Illustration: THE DIVORCE SHOP _Private Inquiry Agent._ "Want a divorce, sir? Certainly, sir,--certainly! Any evidence you may require ready at the shortest possible notice!!"] * * * * * THE BEST SCHOOL OF NEEDLEWORK.--A husband's wardrobe. * * * * * A PARTING INJUNCTION.--A decree in the Divorce Court. * * * * * SIMPLE.--_Q._ When is a man tied to time? _A._ When he marries a second. * * * * * "NATURAL SELECTION."--Choosing a wife. * * * * * [Illustration: _Small Voice from under the bed._ "_No_, I will _not_ come out! I tell you, once and for all, Bernesia, I _will_ be master in my own house!"] * * * * * THE BEST EXCUSE FOR A MAN MARRYING HIS DECEASED WIFE'S SISTER.--Because he will only have one mother-in-law. * * * * * A DISTINCTION WITHOUT A DIFFERENCE (_A Drama in two Acts illustrative of the peculiarities of the British Idiom of End-dearment_) ACT I.--_Before the Event._ _Adolphus._ Won't it make its adored happy by naming the day then--a playful little puss! _Seraphina._ Ah! I suppose it must have its own way--a sad young dog. ACT II.--_After the Event._ _Seraphina_ (_with emphasis_). O! when mamma comes you will not treat me so--you insolent puppy! _Adolphus_ (_with decided emphasis_). Ah! don't talk to me, you cat!!! _Curtain falls._ * * * * * THE BEST SETTLEMENT FOR A RICH WIFE WHO ELOPES.--A penal one. * * * * * [Illustration: COLD SYMPATHY _Friend._ "Hullo, old man, what's the matter?" _Gilded Youth._ "Just proposed to a girl--been refused. Think I shall blow my brains out!" _Friend._ "Congratulate you, old chap!" _Gilded Youth._ "What do you mean?" _Friend._ "Didn't know you had any!"] * * * * * [Illustration: QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM _Gertrude._ "But nobody ever dies of a broken heart." _Evelyn._ "Oh, but they do. Why, I knew a man who was jilted, and he died almost immediately afterwards." _Gertrude._ "Well, if he'd lived he'd have got over it."] * * * * * THE SEVEN WONDERS THE SEVEN WONDERS OF A MARRIED MAN. OF A MARRIED WOMAN. 1. NOT going to sleep after 1. NEVER having "a dinner! gown to put on," when invited out anywhere. 2. Never going anywhere 2. Always being down the in the evening, excepting first to breakfast! always "to the club!" being dressed in time for dinner! and never keeping the carriage (or the cab) waiting at the door a minute! 3. Always being good-tempered 3. Not always having over the loss of a "delicate health," about button, and never wreaking the autumn, and being his vengeance on the coals recommended by her medical if the dinner isn't ready man "change of air" exactly to a minute! immediately! 4. Never finding fault with 4. Keeping up her "playing his "dear little wifey", if and singing" the same she happens to be his partner after marriage as before! at whist. 5. Not "wondering," 5. Giving her husband the regularly every week, "how best cup of tea! the money goes!" 6. Resigning himself 6. Never making the house cheerfully, when asked to uncomfortable by continually accompany his wife on "a "putting it to rights!"--nor little shopping!" filling it choke-full with a number of things it does not want, simply because they are "bargains!" 7. Insisting upon the 7. Never alluding, under servants sitting up, sooner the strongest provocation, than take the latchkey with to "the complete sacrifice him!!! she has made of herself!"--nor regretting the "two or three good offers," which she (in common with every married woman) had before she was foolish enough to accept _him_!!--and never, by any accident, calling her husband "a brute!" * * * * * ALL FOR MONEY.--Jack Damyan and his wife have just started on their wedding tour. The lady's chief attraction is her income. In this case, Jack's friends call the usual period of seclusion the moneymoon. * * * * * [Illustration: THE FOURTEENTH OF FEBRUARY _Comely Housemaid._ "None for you, miss." _Daughter of the House._ "But--why--who are all those for, then?" _Comely Housemaid._ "Me, miss!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BALANCE RESTORED _Mrs. Henry Peek._ "Bah! I only married you because I pitied you, when nobody else thought anything about you!" _Mr. Henry Peek_ (_wearily_). "Ah, well, my dear, everybody pities me now!"] * * * * * SHE "JESTS AT SCARS," ETC.--_Aunt._ "And how's Louisa, my dear? Where is she?" _Sarcastic Younger Sister_ (_fancy free_). "Oh, pretty well, but she won't be on view these two hours. She's writing to her 'Dear Fred'; at least I fancy I saw her come out of the library with Tupper's Poems and a _Dictionary_!!!" * * * * * AN OLD-MAIDISM.--Love is blind, and Hymen is the oculist that generally manages to open his eyes. * * * * * [Illustration: "AS MAN'S INGRATITUDE" "Nonsense, Frank! Can't pay them! Why, before we were married you told me you were well off." "So I was. But I didn't know it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. Guzzle._ "Ah, Jinks, I hear you are going to be married. Good thing too. You'll have some one to keep that cook of yours up to the mark. She wants it!" _Mr. Jinks._ "Yes. But, you see, it's cook I'm going to marry!"] * * * * * WAITING Enchantress with the nut-brown hair, Bright genius of the A. B. C., Approach, in beauty past compare, And spell Love's alphabet to me! Content no more am I each night, Amid a weird, dyspeptic host, To order, with a keen delight, And watch thee bring, the tea and toast. I covet more transcendent joys; Be mine, and come where Ocean waits Instead of thee, and where annoys No tinkling clash of cups and plates. There grant to me, beneath the stars, Not buttered scones, but smiles of bliss; Not pastry, that digestion mars, But something sweeter still--a kiss. * * * Enchantress with the nut-brown hair, Bright genius of the A. B. C., Ah, heed a lover's anguished prayer, And be not D. E. F. to me! * * * * * ADVICE TO HONEYMOONERS ABOUT TO START ON A CONTINENTAL TRIP.--The most appropriate place for "_les noces_" should be "The Hotel Marry-time, Calais." * * * * * [Illustration: BETWEEN SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS _Lady Binks_ (_a devoted widow, earnestly_). "Oh, Mr. Crichton, be careful how you marry! Sir Peter, who, as you know, rose to the highest positions, used frequently to say that more men owed their success to the beauty and social charm of their wives, than to their own energy and talents." _Mr. Crichton_ (_plunging on the "nil nisi bonum" principle_). "Surely, Lady Binks, none could say that of Sir Peter!"] * * * * * LITERAL.--_Visitor_ (_to Disconsolate One_). "Rejected you, did she? Oh, what o' that? Often do at first. Try her again. You're not pertinacious enough. You should have pressed her----" _Dejected One._ "Yes, but--confound her!--she wouldn't let me come near her!" * * * * * [Illustration: PARRIED _The Major_ (_not so young as he feels_). "Ah, Miss Muriel, in the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of----" _Miss Muriel_ (_who wishes to avoid a proposal_). "What a memory you have, major!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "Oh, pray, Miss Dalrimple, _don't_ call me Mr. Brookes." _She._ "Oh, but our acquaintance has been so brief. This is so sudden----" (_Sweetly._) "Why shouldn't I call you Mr. Brookes?" _He._ "Oh--only because my name's Somerset!"] * * * * * "UNEQUAL RATING."--A big wife scolding a little husband. * * * * * THE DIVORCE MEASURE.--Half and half. * * * * * FEMININE PERVERSITY.--_Aunt Betsy._ "I wonder, James, at your encouraging young Cadby to be so much with Madeline! He's a bad match, and not a good fellow, I fear!" _Papa._ "Confound him, no! I've given him _carte-blanche_ to come when he likes, and she's getting rather tired of him at last, for I'm always cracking him up!" _Aunt Betsy._ "And that nice fellow, Goodenough? He's never here now?" _Papa._ "No; I've forbidden him the house, and won't even allow his name to be mentioned. She's always thinking of him in consequence. I'm in hopes she'll marry him some day!" * * * * * VIRGINIA STOCK'S VIEW OF IT. Is Marriage a Failure? Why, yes, to be sure. But, oh! abolition won't furnish a cure. Whilst thousands of spinsters in solitude tarry, It's clearly a failure--because men _won't_ marry. * * * * * AN "ELASTIC BAND."--The Marriage Tie (in the Divorce Court). * * * * * [Illustration: A PARTHIAN SHOT _He_ (_after a quarrel, bitterly_). "I _was_ a fool when I married _you_!" _She_ (_quietly, about to leave the room_). "Yes; but I thought you would improve!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HARMONY _Brown_ (_Philistine_). "I heard it was all 'off' between you and Miss Roweshett." _Wobbinson_ (_Æsthete_). "Ya-as. Incompatibility of complexion!--she didn't suit my furnitchar!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _'Liza._ "Wot's it feel like, bein' in love, Kytie?" _Katie._ "Ow, it's prime, 'Liza. It's like 'avin' 'ot treacle runnin' daown yer back!"] * * * * * SONG OF THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS I live a mild domestic life, Devoted dearly to my wife, So much so, that from her extends My fond affection to her friends; And first of all--no spooney raw-- Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law! My pet's old parent's rather stout; I just might clasp her waist about: Some three yards round, and not much more. I've thoughts of widening my front-door, I shouldn't mind the expense one straw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law! At times I may myself forget, Which, if she thinks, she tells my pet; But when I don't do all I should, Her telling tends to make me good; I'm pleased to have her find the flaw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law! The servants that upon her wait A pleasure have which must be great. And yet can we get none to stay. I grieve so when she goes away! Tears from my eyes her turned heels draw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law! A sweet old soul, how pleased I feel To see her at the social meal Of dinner sit, her mouth a chink Ne'er opened save to meat--and drink! And I'll ne'er grudge (I am so free) Her gin and brandy in her tea. I hold her in such filial awe; Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law! * * * * * [Illustration: "Just look at Mr. Jones over there, flirting with that girl! I always thought he was a woman-hater?" "So he is; but she's not here to-night!"] * * * * * THE STRAIGHT TIP.--"And so now they're engaged! _Well_, Jessie, to think of _you_, with your beauty and accomplishments, and your lovely voice, being cut out by such an ignorant little fright as that Maggie Quickson! You _sang_ to him, I suppose?" "Yes, mamma, by the hour! But _she_ made _him_ sing, you know, and played his accompaniments for him!" "Why, _can_ he sing?" "No, mamma; but she made him _believe_ he could!" * * * * * MOTTO FOR A "KISS."--Go it, my two lips. * * * * * CROSSED IN LOVE.--A wedding-present cheque. * * * * * _Q._ What is the difference between a lover asking the object of his affections to marry him, and a guest who ventures to hint to his host that the Pommery '80 is rather corked? _A._ The one pops the question, the other questions the pop. * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "How would you like to own a--er--a little puppy?" _She._ "Oh, Mr. Softly, this is so sudden!"] * * * * * HOW TO MAKE LIFE EMINENTLY DISAGREEABLE (_By a strong-minded Married Woman_) Always provide for everything beforehand. As things are sure to turn out differently from what you have arranged, this will familiarise you with disappointment. Always go back upon a mistake or a misfortune, and so take the opportunity of proving how much better things would have been if something had been done that hasn't. Never give way in trifles, as there is no saying how soon you may be called upon to give way in matters of more importance. A mistress may talk _at_ her servants, but should never lower herself so far as to talk _to_ them. Never dress for your husband, which will teach him to value you for your gifts of mind, not your attractions of person. Never give expression to your affections, as there is no saying how soon they may alter, and you may thus be guilty of great inconsistency. Never consult the taste of your husband, or he will in time come to look on his house as a club, where all is comfort and self-indulgence. * * * * * TO AN OLD FLAME--(TWENTY YEARS AFTER) A little girl, a charming tiny tot, I well remember you with many a curl, Although I recollect you said "I'm not A _little_ girl." We parted. Mid the worry and the whirl Of life, again, alas! I saw you not. I kept you in my memory as a pearl Of winsome childhood. So imagine what A shock it was this morning to unfurl My morning paper, there to see you've got A little girl! * * * * * THE POET AND HIS LOVE--(A LAPSUS LINGUÆ.)--_He._ "I see that you wear brown boots, sweetheart--a sign of the falling of the year." _She._ "Yes, it is in concord with the decadence of the leaf." _He._ "Say rather of the cutting of the corn." (_And then the match was broken off through no fault of his._) * * * * * [Illustration: A SAFE MORTGAGE _Angelina._ "Edwin, promise me you'll never describe me as your 'relict.'" _Edwin._ "Dearest, I never will! I'd die sooner!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown_ (_who has been dining at the club with Jones_). "Just come in a minute, old fellow, and have a night-cap." _Jones_. "I'm afraid it's getting a little late. Let's see, how's the enemy." _Brown_. "Oh! that's all right. _She's_ in bed."] * * * * * THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--"Well, but if you can't bear her, whatever made you propose?" "Well, we had danced three dances, and I couldn't think of anything else to say!" * * * * * THE FIN DE SIÈCLE SUITOR. I love you in an all-absorbing, fond, unselfish way, I dream of you the long night thro', I think of you each day, Whene'er I hear your voice, my dear, a spell o'er me is cast, The rapture of your presence is (I'm certain) bound to last. On you I'll pour the loving store and treasures of my heart, With riches of an earthly kind I am more loth to part, I'll sing your praise in loving ways, for are you not my queen? You'll find the verses published in our local magazine. So deep is my affection I would joyfully propose, But for one great objection, which now I will disclose, Intense is your suspense, so I'll endeavour to be short, The fact is, that _a husband you're not able to support_. * * * * * NEW DISH FOR A WEDDING BREAKFAST.--Curried favour. * * * * * THE BEST CURE FOR THE HEARTBURN.--Marriage. * * * * * [Illustration: _Young Bride._ "Do you let your husband have a latchkey, Mrs. Jones?" _Mrs. Jones._ "No, my dear; it would be useless. I give it to the milkman!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PROGNOSTICATION When Mrs. Tubbles awoke (she sleeps very soundly), the morning after that farmers' dinner, she found John by her side with his boots on and the umbrella open! His explanation was that, besides being very tired, he perhaps "fansh'd there wash 'shtorm comin' on!" [It came! ] * * * * * A HUSBAND'S LAMENT AIR--"_I once had a sweet little Doll, dears._" (_Kingsley's words, set by A. Cecil._) I once saw a sweet pretty face, boys: Its beauty and grace were divine. And I felt what a swell I should be, boys, Could I boast that such charms were all mine! I wooed. Every man I cut out, boys, At my head deep anathemas hurled:-- But I said as I walked back from church, boys, "I'm the luckiest dog in the world!" As doves in a cot we began, boys, A cosy and orthodox pair: Till I found at my notable wife, boys, The world was beginning to stare. She liked it. At first, so did I, boys, But, at length, when all over the place She was sketched, hunted, photo'd and mobbed, boys, I cried, "Hang her sweet pretty face!" Still, we went here and there,--right and left, boys;-- We were asked dozens deep,--I say "we," Though wherever I went not a soul, boys, Could have pointed out Adam from me. But we had a rare social success, boys, Got mixed with the noble and great, Till one's friends, who say kind and nice things, boys, Talked of me as "the man come to wait!" So, I've no more a sweet pretty wife, boys;-- For the one that I once hoped to own, Belongs, as I've found to my cost, boys, To the great British public alone. So until they've got tired of her face, boys, And a rival, more touzled or curled, Drives her home to her own proper place, boys-- I'm the dullest dull dog in the world! * * * * * A SURE AID TO MATRIMONY.--Propingpongquity. * * * * * FROM "PUNCH'S SYNONYMS."--The Limited Male: a husband. * * * * * A VERY-MUCH MARRIED MAN.--The "hub" of the universe. * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Giddie._ "It's awfully sweet of you, Mr. Cunius--(_coquettish pause_)--_Impey_, to ask me to marry you. Of course, I know you love me; but I hope that people won't say that you married me for my money!" _Mr. Impey Cunius (in a state of utter collapse after an elaborately forced proposal)._ "My dear, Miss Giddie--er--_Flossie_, I assure you that _I_ shall never mention it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "FOR THE THIRD TIME OF ASKING" _Aunt Mary._ "You heard the vicar publish the banns between Uncle George and Ellen Thompson?" _Ethel (who has never been present at this ceremony before)._ "Yes--it seems rather a shame to tell everybody how often he'd been refused, though!"] * * * * * LOVE AND COURTSHIP (_As they appear from certain Answers to Correspondents_) VANITAS.--You are not bound to tell him. If the bright golden colour of your naturally dark hair is due to the excellent preparation recommended in another column, and he tells you he does not admire dark girls, why not keep on? The bottles are really quite cheap at nineteen and eleven. Of course, if it weighs upon your conscience, you might give him a hint, but he will probably talk about deceit, and behave in the brutally outspoken male manner so many readers complain of. AMELIA.--Have you not been rather indiscreet? You should never let him see you cry before you are married. Afterwards it has its uses. BLANCHE AMORY.--Cheer up. As you very cleverly put it, history does repeat itself. You are now once more in a position to undertake a further instalment of _Mes Larmes_. No. We are overstocked with poetry. The man, of course, is beneath contempt. TWO STRINGS.--Your _fiancé_ must be a perfect _Othello_. It is, as you justly remark, monstrous that he should object to your cousin seven times removed taking you to the theatre once or twice a week. Of course he is a relative. SWEET-AND-TWENTY.--Your remarks about tastes in common are perfectly correct. So long as you both collect postcards you will always be able to give pleasure to each other at a distance. BUSINESS GIRL.--If you have found out that he only gave twenty-five pounds for your engagement ring, it may be, as you shrewdly observe, that he has a contract with the tradesman for a periodical supply of such articles. The fact that his income is under a hundred a year makes it only the more probable that he would adopt such an arrangement for economy's sake. Be very careful. PITTI-SING.--Your only course is to box his ears. Let us know how you get on. BELLONA.--Sorry to disappoint you, but this is not the place to describe the undress uniform of the Grenadier Guards. * * * * * [Illustration: H'M! _Stern Father._ "What an unearthly hour that young fellow stops till every night, Doris. What does your mother say about it?" _Daughter._ "She says men haven't altered a bit, pa."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE BABES IN THE WOOD _Ernest._ "I see you are getting on, foreman." _Foreman._ "Yes, sir; we shall have the walls plastered to-morrow." _Agatha._ "Oh, Ernest, don't let's have plaster! You never see it now; everybody has wall-papers, and you can get lovely ones quite cheap!"] * * * * * MY NEIGHBOUR Next door the summer roses bloom And breathe their hearts out day by day To please a gentle gardener whom 'Twere happiness to thus obey: For her each rose a fragrance gives That roses grudge to common labour, And there, next door, among them lives My neighbour. I watch her in her garden fair, And think what joy my life would bless Could she and I but wander there, A shepherd and a shepherdess, As blithe as those of ancient myth That danced and sang to pipe and tabor: Who would not thus be happy with My neighbour? Blue eyes, and hair of sunny brown, A form of such exceeding grace, And features in whose smile and frown Such tender beauty I can trace That here to sketch her free from flaw Defies the pencil of a Faber, And yet I yearn so much to draw My neighbour! I'm keeping one commandment--an Epitome of all the ten-- So if I, when my life began, Was born in sin like other men, To innocence that shames the dove, I've mellowed since I was a babe, or How could I so devoutly love My neighbour? * * * * * [Illustration: _First Young Wife._ "Do you find it more economical, dear, to do your own cooking?" _Second Young Wife._ "Oh, certainly. My husband doesn't eat half so much as he did!"] * * * * * THE SNUB CONNUBIAL.--_Loving Wife._ "Charles, dear, I wish you would put down that horrid novel and talk to me; I feel so dull; and--oh, Charles! my foot's asleep----" _Charles._ "Hush--sh! my dear, you might wake it!" * * * * * THE OLDEST AND THE SHORTEST DRAMA IN THE WORLD.--_He._ "Will you?" _She._ "Oh! I do not know!" (_Which "know" meant that she said "yes._") * * * * * ADVICE TO GIRL GRADUATES (_After Charles Kingsley--at a respectful distance_) Dress well, sweet maid, and let who will be _clever_. Dance, flirt, and sing! Don't study all day long. Or else you'll find, When other girls get married, You'll sing a different song! * * * * * FAULTS ON BOTH SIDES.--Man and wife are like a pair of scissors, so long as they are together, but they become daggers so soon as they are disunited. * * * * * PARTNERSHIP WITHOUT LIMITED LIABILITY.--Marriage. * * * * * [Illustration: BRUTES! _Jones._ "Did you ever see a volcano in course of eruption?" _Smith._ "No--but once I remember I came home very late from the club, and my wife----" [_They understand one another_ ] * * * * * READING BETWEEN THE MARRIAGE LINES (_By a Recent Victim_) [Illustration: A MAN OF MANY WOES] One of the first troubles to be faced by the young wife is the difficulty of getting servants. It will be found that a cook is almost indispensable. Rather than be without one, take time by the forelock and, during the engagement, try the following advertisement (one is bound to offer additional attractions nowadays):--"Wanted, at once, a good plain cook. If necessary, _advertiser would be willing to make her a bridesmaid_. Must be able to wear blue." * * * Or again:--"Newly married couple require cook and parlour maid. _All china, glass, &c., in house new and unused and never been broken before._" * * * In taking a house, remember that it is absolutely necessary to have an attic--in which to place some of the presents. It is all very well to say that they can be put in the servants' hall, but it must not be forgotten that it is now very difficult to keep servants, even under the most favourable circumstances. * * * You cannot be too careful in giving instructions for your house decoration. "In the dining-room I think I would like a dado," I said one day to the paper-man. The paper-man's face turned almost white at the suggestion. "You cannot, sir," he said in a hushed voice, "_the dado is extinct_." Then he explained that persons of taste have friezes nowadays, both in summer and winter. * * * To avoid a rush at the end, it will be worth the bride's while to write out beforehand a large number of letters of thanks for wedding-presents. The most handy form is, "DEAR ----, We both thank you so very much for your ---- present." When the present arrives you can fill in the missing word as circumstances require. On no account leave the blank. * * * Another happy form is, "DEAR ----, Thank you so much for your charming and useful present. Please, what is it for?" * * * But beware of the following form, as some persons do not take it in the way in which it is meant, "DEAR ----, Many thanks for your present. It is very good of you to have sent anything." * * * Nothing looks so solidly generous in the list of presents as the vague word, Cheque. Many mean people now send as a present a cheque for ten-and-six. * * * A novelty at wedding-receptions, and very _chic_, is to have in the present-room, in place of a detective, a parrot which has been trained to cry out every now and then, "Put that back! Put that back!" * * * Another novelty is to have a stall for the sale of duplicate articles. * * * * * The custom by which the bridegroom, on the night before the wedding, gives a farewell dinner to his bachelor friends is falling into desuetude. As a consequence one sees less frequently the announcement:--"On the ---- instant, by the Rev. Mr. ----, _assisted by_ the Rev. Mr. ----, &c." * * * * * [Illustration: SPORTING EVENT--A RECORD SHE WON THE SWEEP!] * * * * * [Illustration: ILLUMINISM _The Hon. Muriel._ "Oh yes, I suppose I could get married, if I could find a man I simply couldn't live without." _The Hon. Maude._ "My dear girl, the difficulty is to find a man you can live _with!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: IN LEAP YEAR _Hopeless Widower._ "Nothing can mend a broken heart." _Hopeful Widow._ "Except re-pairing."] * * * * * [Illustration: THE LAST CONGRATULATION _Fair Guest (who, having had a desperate flirtation with the bridegroom a short time ago, wouldn't be absent from the ceremony on any account)._ "Well, Algey, it's all over _now_! Aren't you pleased?" [_Uncomfortable position of Algey._ ] * * * * * WAIT FOR AGE. _Seventeen._ "_Is_ marriage a failure? I _should_ like to know!" _Seven-and-Twenty._ "My dear, when as long as myself you have tarried, You will not need much demonstration to show That the only true failure is--not getting married!" * * * * * FEMALE DEFINITION OF LEAP YEAR.--Miss Understood. * * * * * [Illustration: A PLEASANT PROSPECT _Miss Kitty Candour (who has just accepted dear Reggie, and is now taking him fully into her confidence)._ "I must tell you, Reggie dear, that the great fault of my character is that after I have taken any resolution--it doesn't matter what it may be--I always bitterly repent it!"] * * * * * EVOLUTION She sketched a husband strong and brave On whom her heart might lean; None but a hero would she have-- This girl of 17. Her fancy subsequently turned From deeds of derring do; For brainy intercourse she yearned When she was 22. The years sped on, ambition taught A worldly-wise design; A man of wealth was what she sought When she was 29. But Time has modified her plan; Weak, imbecile, or poor-- She's simply looking for a _man_ Now she is 34. * * * * * OUR VILLAGE INDUSTRIAL COMPETITION.--_Husband (just home from the City)._ "My angel!--crying!--whatever's the matter?" _Wife._ "They've--awarded me--prize medal"--_(sobbing)_--"f' my sponge cake!" _Husband (soothingly)._ "And I'm quite sure it deserv----" _Wife (hysterically)._ "Oh--but--'t said--'twas--for the best specimen--o' concrete!" * * * * * [Illustration: "FOR THIS RELIEF----?" "I'm sorry to hear your wife is suffering from her throat. I hope it's nothing serious?" "No, I don't think so. The doctor's forbidden her to talk much. It'll trouble her a good deal, I expect, and she won't be herself for some time."] * * * * * AN ENGAGEMENT (_A Page from a Diary_) _Monday._--Delightful news! My sister Nellie is engaged to be married! It came upon us all as a great surprise. I never had the slightest suspicion that Nellie cared twopence about old Goodbody St. Leger. He is such a staid, solemn old party, a regular fossilised bachelor we all thought. Not at all the sort of man to give way to emotions or to be in love. However, it's a capital match for Nellie as St. Leger's firm are about the largest accountants in the city. My wife thinks it will be a good thing in another way, too, as my other six sisters may now have a chance of going off. It seems that when once this kind of epidemic gets into a family, all the unmarried sisters go popping off like blazes one after another. Called with my wife this afternoon to congratulate Nellie. Rather a trial for the poor girl, as all sorts of female relatives had called full of enthusiasm and congratulations. Goodbody was there (Nellie calls him "Goodie") and seemed rather overwhelmed. He went away early and didn't kiss Nellie. I thought this funny, and chaffed Nellie about it afterwards. She said she'd soon make that all right. _Tuesday._--Goodbody is getting on. We had a family dinner at home to-night. He came rather late and entered the drawing-room with an air of great determination, marched straight up to Nellie and kissed her violently. It was splendidly done and we all felt inclined to cheer. He kissed her again when he went away, and lingered so long in saying good-night to my mother that we all thought he was going to kiss her too. But he didn't. My wife said that the suspense of those moments was dreadful. _Wednesday._--He has kissed my mother--on both cheeks. I must say the old lady took it extraordinarily well, though she was not in the very least prepared for it. It happened at five o'clock tea, in an interval of complete silence, and those two sounding smacks simply reverberated through the room. Mother was quite cheerful afterwards, and spoke to Nellie about the trousseau in her usual calm and collected frame of mind. Still I can see that the incident has made a deep impression upon her. My wife told Maggie it would be her turn next. _Thursday._--It _has_ been Maggie's turn. Goodbody called at home on his way from the City, and set to work as soon as he got into the drawing-room. He first kissed Nellie, then repeated the performance with my poor mother, and, finding that Maggie was close behind him, he kissed her on the forehead. Where will this end? _Friday._--He has regularly broken loose. He dined at home to-day, and, without a word of warning, kissed the whole family--my mother, Nellie, Maggie, Alice, Mabel, Polly, Maud, and little Beta. He quite forgot he had begun with my mother, and, after he had kissed Beta, got confused, and began all over again. At this moment my wife and I came in with Aunt Catherine, whom we had brought in our carriage. Both my wife and Aunt Catherine tried to escape, but it was no good. He kissed them both, and was just advancing towards me, when the butler fortunately announced dinner. Matters are getting quite desperate, and we none of us know what ought to be done. Aunt Catherine had a violent fit of hysterics in the spare bedroom after dinner. _Saturday._--The engagement is broken off. A great relief. It has been a lesson for all of us. * * * * * [Illustration: THE RETORT DISCOURTEOUS _She._ "Ah, it was very different before we were married. Then my word was _law!_" _He._ "And a very vulgar word, too, my dear."] * * * * * [Illustration: SO CONVENIENT! _Young Wife._ "Where are you going, Reggie dear?" _Reggie Dear._ "Only to the club, my darling." _Young Wife._ "Oh, I don't mind that, because there's a telephone there, and I can talk to you through it, can't I?" _Reggie Dear._ "Y-yes--but--er--you know, the confounded wires are always getting out of order!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PAST AND PRESENT _Serious and much-Married Man._ "My dear friend, I _was_ astonished to hear of _your_ dining at Madame Troisétoiles!--a 'woman with a past,' you know!" _The Friend (bachelor "unattached")._ "Well, you see, old man, she's got a first-rate _chef_, so it isn't her 'past,' but her 're-past' that _I_ care about."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Good-bye, Alfred darling. You _have_ cheered me up. If I get lonely and depressed again, I'll just look at your dear photo--that's sure to make me laugh, and laugh, and laugh!"] * * * * * _She._ "I told you that your old aunt had a will of her own." _He (tired of waiting)._ "I know she has. I only wish she'd enable us to probate it!" * * * * * [Illustration: "That's Mrs. Fitz-Jones. You never see her without her husband and her Dachshund." "Well, they make a very good pair."] * * * * * [Illustration: A FAIR AVERAGE _Visitor._ "Lady Evelyn tells me, Dan'l, that you have had four wives." _Dan'l (proudly)._ "Ess, zur, I 'ave--an' what's more, _two of 'em was good 'uns!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Adolphus (penitently)._ "So sorry, dearest, that I was angry with you yesterday evening, and lost my temper." _Olivia._ "Pray don't mention it, Dolly. It wasn't a very good one, and I'm sure you can easily find a better."] * * * * * DROP BY DROP _Nine Stages of a Love Story_ First place, I dropped my eye on her, And she dropped hers, so blushfully! Then I "dropped in,"--her sire sold fur,-- Then "dropped a line," most gushfully. I dropped a deal of ready cash On her and her relations, Then dropped some hints--that course proved rash-- About her "expectations." She dropped on me, daring to ask _Such_ questions. Here I stopped her. Her--bankrupt--sire then dropped the mask, And I--well then, I dropped her! * * * * * DEFINITIONS.--Mater: One who finds _mates_ for her daughters. Check Mate: A husband with money. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE MISSIS" WOULD OBLIGE _Philanthropist._ "I'm sorry to see you in this condition, Parker. I'm afraid you'll miss the lecture to-night." _Parker._ "Oh no, I shan't. I'm goin'--shtraightome."] * * * * * A YOUNG HUSBAND'S LAMENT Oh, I am weary, weary, Of that pretty pinky face, Of the blank of its no meaning, The gush of its grimace. And I am weary, weary, Of her silly, simpering ways, Bugles, buckles, buttons, spangles, Tight tiebacks, tighter stays. And I am weary, weary, Of that hollow little laugh, Of the slang that stands for humour, Of the chatter and the chaff. Sick of the inch-deep feeling Of that hollow little heart, Its "too lovely" latest fashions, Its "too exquisite" high Art. Its Church high, higher, highest, Their curates and their clothes, Their intonings, genuflections, Masqueradings, mops and mows. But I must curb my temper, Grumbling helps not wedlock's ills. Fashion, High Church, or Æsthetics, Let me grin and pay the bills! * * * * * [Illustration: FOREWARNED _Claude Merridew, leaderette-writer, reviewer, &c. (sentimentally)._ "Whenever I think of Althæa, Miss Vansittart I mean, I am irresistibly reminded of those matchless words of Steele's--'To love her was a liberal education.'" _Algy (following the idea with difficulty)._ "That's all right, old man, that's all right, 'course I know a lot of you writin' chaps are like that, but I think I ought to tell you that her father is one of the head johnnies in the Primrose League."] * * * * * THE EDUCATION OF HUSBANDS How suggestive is the new year of bills; and bills of housekeeping. It is fearful to reflect how many persons rush into matrimony, totally unprepared for the awful change that awaits them. A man may take a wife at twenty-one, before he knows the difference between a chip and a Leghorn! We would no more grant a marriage licence to anybody simply because he is of age, than a licence, on that ground only, to practise as an apothecary. Husbands ought to be educated. We should like to have the following questions put to young and inexperienced "Persons about to Marry:"-- Are you aware, sir, of the price of coals and candles? Do you know which is more economical, the aitch-bone, or the round? How far, young man, will a leg of mutton go in a small family? How much dearer, now, is silver than Britannia? Please to give the average price of a four-poster. Declare, if you can, rash youth, the sum, per annum, that chemisettes, pelerines, cardinals, bonnets, veils, caps, ribbons, flowers, gloves, cuffs, and collars, would probably come to in the lump. If unable to answer these inquiries, we would say to him, "Go back to school." He that would be a husband should also undergo a training, physical and moral. He should be further examined thus:-- Can you read or write amid the yells of a nursery? Can you wait any given time for breakfast? Can you maintain your serenity during a washing-day? Can you cut your old friends? Can you stand being contradicted in the face of all reason? Can you keep your temper when you are not listened to? Can you do what you are told without being told why? In a word, young sir, have you the patience of Job? If you can lay your hand upon your heart and answer "Yes," take your licence and marry--not else. * * * * * TO POLICEMEN ABOUT TO MARRY.--When you are about to marry, visit as many cooks as you can, so as to give you the widest possible area for your choice. Avoid housemaids, whose occupation does not admit of the accumulation of much dust to come down with; and remember that there is nothing like kitchen-stuff for greasing the wheel of fortune. When married, a policeman will be justified in living above his station--if he can get a room there for nothing. * * * * * LINES TO MY LADY-LOVE (_By a Commonplace Person_) To thee, were I a humble bee, I'd hourly wing my honeyed flight; To thee, were I a ship at sea, I'd sail, tho' land were in my sight: To thee, were I a pussy cat, I'd spring, as tho' 'twere on a rat! To thee, were I a stickleback I'd swim as fast as fins could move; To thee, were I a hunter's hack, I'd gallop on the hoofs of love: But as I'm but a simple man, I'll come by train, love--if I can! * * * * * [Illustration: _He._ "Are you still living at the same address in town, Mrs. Jones?" _She._ "Yes. But since I've become a widow, I've been looking for another flat!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Miss Short._ "Isn't my name an absurd misfit, Mr. Long?" _Mr. Long (thoughtlessly)._ "Yes, rather. If you could have mine it would be all right, wouldn't it?" _Miss Short._ "Oh, Mr. Long, this is so sudden!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE ALTERNATIVE _The Doctor._ "Well, Mrs. Barnes, I must offer you my congratulations. I hear you've married again. And have you given up your occupation of washing?" _Mrs. Barnes._ "Oh, no, sir. But, you see, if I 'adn't taken '_e_, I'd 'a' 'ad to 'a' bought a donkey!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Now, George dear, it's your first birthday in the new century. What good resolutions are you going to make?" "Well, for one thing, I intend to be much more regular in my habits." "Why not _give them all up_, dear?"] * * * * * [Illustration: FAMILY CARES _First Excursionist._ "Int'restin' ruins these, sir." _Second Ditto (the bread-winner)._ "'Mye-es. 'Don't care for ruins m'self though." (_Pointing to his olive branches in the background._) "Them's ruin enough for me?"] * * * * * WHOM NOT TO MARRY: _Or, Diogenes the Younger_ _The Lady with a Mission._--She will fill your house with parsons or professors, lecture you on her pet hobby when she can get no other audience (which will be pretty often), consider all your old friends frivolous, and treat you with supreme contempt if you venture to hint that you like your dinner punctually, and properly cooked. _The Lady of Fashion._--She will regard you as an appendage, a cheque-drawing animal, a useful purveyor of equipages and dresses and diamonds and lace, a person to be ignored as much as possible in Society. _The Millionaire's Daughter._--She will persistently make you aware that it is _her_ house you live in, _her_ carriage you drive, that the servants are _hers_, the dinners _hers_--that, in fact, she has bought you, and given for you much more than you are really worth. _The Pious-Parochial Lady._--She will devote all her time to the distribution of tracts, the inspection of cottages, the collection of gossip, and interviews with the curate. Each curate will be a more "blessed" man than his predecessor, especially if he have the shifty eyes, aggressive teeth, narrow forehead, and shambling knees which modern curatism has developed. _The Female Novelist._ She will sit up all night writing improprieties, and pass all day in town, worrying publishers, who are at present sad victims of the irrepressible petticoat. _The Horsey Woman._ She will laugh at you as a muff if you don't ride across country, buy "screws" from her particular friends that you will have to sell for as many tens as she gave hundreds, and cost you a fortune in doctors' bills by breaking her collar-bone at least once every season. _The Gushing Female._ She will devour you with kisses, to the injury of your shirt-front, or weep on your bosom, with much the same result. To her either is equally delightful. _The Widow._ Diogenes pauses. The theme is too great for him. _Vide Mr. Weller, sen._, in _Pickwick, passim._ * * * * * TRITE BUT TRUE "Music's the food of love" they say, This is a passage every one now quotes; The truth is clear, for in the present day, Young love is fed entirely _on notes._ * * * * * "OUR FAILURES."--_Husband._ "I say, Lizzie, what on earth did you make this mint-sauce of?" _Young Wife (who has been "helping" Cook)._ "Parsley, to be sure!" * * * * * [Illustration: APPEARANCES ARE DECEPTIVE _He._ "Who's that?" _She._ "Jack Anstruther and his bride. He married ever so much beneath him." _He._ "Doesn't look like it!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BREAKING THE NEWS _Newly Affianced One._ "May I be your new mamma, Tommy?" _Tommy._ "_I_ should like it, but you must ask papa."] * * * * * [Illustration: ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER _She._ "But if you say you can't bear the girl, why _ever_ did you propose?" _He._ "Well, her people have always been awfully good to me, and it's the only way I could return their hospitality."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Ethel._ "Well, Jimmy didn't blow his brains out after all because you refused him. He proposed to Miss Golightly yesterday." _Maud._ "Did he? Then he must have got rid of them in some other way!"] * * * * * ADVICE TO MATCH-MAKING MAMMAS.--The first and only thing requisite is simply, as Mrs. Glass very wisely says, "First catch your heir." * * * * * A HAPPY HOLIDAY.--_The Bachelor._ "So you're looking after the house while your wife is taking a holiday? I hope she's enjoying the change?" _The Benedict._ "I know _I_ am." * * * * * "CREATURE COMFORTS."--Good wives. * * * * * HOW TO CURE AN IMPRUDENT ATTACHMENT.--_Materfamilias._ "What _is_ to be done, my dear? He positively _dotes_ on her!" _Paterfamilias._ "Well, we must try to find him an _antidote_." * * * * * DIVORCE.--A matrimonial ticket-of-leave. * * * * * THE DESIRE OF PLEASING.--"May I be married, ma?" said a lovely girl of fifteen to her mother the other morning. "Married!" exclaimed the astonished matron, "what put such an idea into your head?" "Little Emily, here, has never seen a wedding; and I'd like to amuse the child," replied the obliging sister, with fascinating _naïveté_. * * * * * A WOMAN'S WILL.--Won't!!! * * * * * [Illustration: "I dunno what 'er misshus 'll shay--but any'ow 'm nor goin' to preten I'm shober"--(_hic_).] * * * * * A CONTRADICTION IN TERMS.--Man and wife. * * * * * AUTOMATIC COUPLINGS.--Scotch marriages. * * * * * THE FAMILY HERALD.--A monthly nurse. * * * * * THE WORST RESULT OF VIVISECTION.--Eve. (_By an incorrigible Old Bachelor, who is hiding himself for fear of consequences._) * * * * * [Illustration: FINIS] * * * * * BRADBURY. AGNEW & CO. LD. PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE 
44434	----	THE BACHELOR'S OWN BOOK Being Twenty-Four Passages In The Life Of Mr. Lambkin, (Gent,) By George Cruikshank. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart, 126 Chesnut Street. 1845. PLATE 1 Mr. Lambkin having come into his property, enters the world upon the very best possible terms with himself, and makes his toilet to admiration. PLATE 2 Mr. Lambkin sallies forth in all the pride of power, with the secret and amiable intention of killing a certain Lady. Some envious rival makes known this deadly purpose, by means of a placard. PLATE 3 Mr. Lambkin with a snug Bachelor's party, enjoying his wine after a most luxurious "whitebait dinner," at Blackwall, and talking about his high connexions. PLATE 4 Mr. Lambkin suddenly feels rather poorly, someting in the "whitebait dinner," having disagreed with him; probably the "water souchy," or that confounded melted butter, (could'nt possibly have been the wine.) His friends endeavor to relieve him with little Drops of Brandy, and large doses of Soda Water. PLATE 5 Mr. Lambkin, having _cut_ those Bachelor Parties, determines to seek the refined pleasures of Ladies' society. He, with the lady of his affections, joins a Pic-nic, endeavors to be exceedingly amusing, and succeeds in making himself "Very ridiculous." PLATE 6 Mr. Lambkin, at an evening party, being full of Life and Spirits (or, rather Wine,) gives great offence to the lady of his affections; by his Philanderings, and completely ruins his fortunes by dancing the Polka with such violence as to upset poor old John, the coffee, and indeed, the whole party. PLATE 7 Mr. Lambkin, overwhelmed with shame and vexation, resorts to Kensington Gardens in the hope of obtaining a meeting with the Lady of his affections--He burns with Rage, Jealousy, and revenge, on seeing her (in company with Miss Dash) holding sprightly converse with the Long Cornet ------------ He feels himself literally _cut_. PLATE 8 After meditating desperate deeds of Duelling, Prussic Acid, Pistols, and Plunges in the River, Mr. Lambkin cools down to a quiet supper, a melancholy reverie, and a warm bath at the Hummums.--The morning sun shines upon him at Epsom, where, with the assistance of his friends and Champagne, he arrives at such a pitch of excitement, that he determines to live and die a Bachelor. PLATE 9 Mr. Lambkin of course visits all the Theatres and all the Saloons; he even makes his way to the Stage and the Green-room, and is so fortunate as to be introduced to some highly talented members of the Corps de Ballet. PLATE 10 Mr. Lambkin goes to a Masquerade as Don Giovanni, which character he supports to perfection. He falls into the company of certain Shepherdesses who shew the native simplicity of their Arcadian manners by drinking porter out of quart pewter mugs. They are delighted with the Don, who adds to the porter a quantity of Champagne, which they drink with the same degree of easy elegance as they do the Beer. PLATE 11 Mr. Lambkin and his friends, after supper at "the rooms," indulge in the usual nocturnal amusements of Gentlemen--the Police officiously interfere with their pastime--Mr. Lambkin after evincing the noble courage of a Lion, the strength of a Bull, the sagacity of a Fox, the stubbornness of a Donkey, and the activity of a Mountain Cat, is at length overcome by Policeman Smith, A. 1. PLATE 12 Mr. Lambkin and his friends cut a pretty figure in the morning before the Magistrate--their conduct is described as violent and outrageous, and their respectability is questioned--Mr. Lambkin and his friends insist upon being Gentlemen, and are of course discharged upon payment of 5s. each for being drunk--and making good the damage at the prices usually charged to Gentlemen. PLATE 13 Mr. Lambkin makes some most delightful acquaintance.--'The Hon. D. Swindelle and his delightful family, his Ma, such a delightful lady!---and his Sisters, such delightful girls!!--Such delightful musical parties,--such delightful soirees, and such delightful card parties,--and what makes it all still more delightful is that they are all so highly delighted with Mr. Lambkin. PLATE 14 Mr. Lambkin in a moment of delightful delirium puts his name to some little bits of paper to oblige his very delightful friend the Hon. D. Swindelle, whom he afterwards discovers to be nothing more than a rascally Blackleg,--He is invited to visit some Chambers in one of the small Inns of Court, where he finds himself completely at the mercy of Messrs. Ogre and Nippers, whose demands make an awful hole in his Cheque-book. PLATE 15 Mr. Lambkin, finding that he has been variously and thoroughly befooled, foolishly dashes into dissipation to drown his distressful thoughts--He joins Jovial society and sings "The right end of Life is to live and be jolly!" PLATE 16 Mr. Lambkins's habits grow worse and worse!--At 3 o'clock a. m. he is placed upright (very jolly) against his own door, by a kind hearted Cabman. PLATE 17 Mr. Lambkin finds that he has been going rather too _fast_ in the Pursuit of Pleasure and Amusement, and like all other Lads of Spirit when he can go no farther comes to a standstill.------ Being really very ill he sends for his Medical Friend who feels his pulse, shakes his head at his tongue, and of course prescribes the proper remedies. PLATE 18 Mr. Lambkin has to be nursed and to go through a regular course of medicine, taking many a bitter pill and requiring all the sweet persuasive powers of Mrs. Slops to take his "regular doses" of "that horrid nasty stuff." PLATE 19 Mr. Lambkin being tired of the old-fashioned regular practice, and being so fortunate as to live in the days when the real properties of Water are discovered, places himself under a Disciple of the immortal Priessnitz. PLATE 20 Mr. Lambkin buys a regular hard-trotter, and combines the health-restoring exercise of Riding with the very great advantages of Wet Swaddling clothes. PLATE 21 Mr. Lambkin's confidence in the curative powers of Hydropathy being very much damped, and being himself quite soaked through, in fact almost washed away, he takes to the good old-fashioned practice of walking early in the morning, and drinking "New Milk from the Cow." PLATE 22 Mr. Lambkin being quite recovered, with the aid of new milk and Sea Breezes, he determines to reform his habits, but feels buried alive in the Grand Mausoleum Club; and, contemplating an old bachelor member who sits pouring over the newspapers all day, he feels horrorstruck at the probability of such va fate becoming his own, and determines to seek a reconciliation with the Lady of his Affections. PLATE 23 Mr. Lambkin writes a letter of humiliation--The Lady answers--He seeks an interview.--It is granted.--He "hopes she'll forgive him this time"--The Lady appears resolute--He earnestly entreats her to "make it up"--At length the Lady softens--She lays aside her "_cruel_" work--ah! She weeps! Silly little thing what does she cry for?--Mr. Lambkin is forgiven! He skips for joy! Pa and Ma give their consent. PLATE 24 And now let Mr. Lambkin speak for himself. "Ladies and Gentlemen, unaccustomed is I am... (Bravo)... return... (Bravo) on the part of Miss... (oh! oh! ha! ha!) I beg pardon, I mean Mrs. Lambkin (Bravo) and myself for the great... hum... ha... hum... and kindness, (Bravo) In return hum... ha... pleasure to drink all your healths (Bravo)--wishing you all the happiness this world can afford (Bravo) I shall conclude in the words of our immortal bard--'may the single be married and the (hear! hear! hear! Bravo) married happy.'" Bravo! Bravo!! Bravo!!! 
44661	----	JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER Volume I (of III) FROM THE COLLECTION OF "MR. PUNCH" LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 1886 [Illustration: cover] [Illustration: front] [Illustration: titlepage] Transcriber's Note: The only text in this file is that drawn in the images. This is not easily read unless viewing the "medium size" and "original size" available by link under each image. INDEX: Advantages of the new Postal arrangements .............1845...272...272 Advice Gratis .........................................1852...062...062 Affair of Importance, An ..............................1852...012...012 After the Pantomime ...................................1853...070...070 Aged Juvenile, An .....................................1846...223...223 Aggravating&mdash;Rather ...................................1850<a href="#link151...151 Agony Column ..........................................1848...262...262 Agricultural Distress..................................1851...129...129 Agricultural Distress Dodge, The ......................1851...195...195 Alarming...............................................1850...050...050 Alarming ..............................................1858...078...078 Alarming Effect of the Hat and Table-moving Experiment.1853...184...184 Alarming Intelligence .................................1852...030...030 Alarming Message, An...................................1842...222...222 Alarming Occurrence ...................................1850...011...011 Alarming Symptoms......................................1846...010...010 Alderman's Advice to his Son, The .....................1851...037...037 All is fair in Love, &amp;c................................1855<a href="#link255...255 All is Vanity .........................................1852...176...176 Ambitious Youth, An ...................................1848...273...273 Amusement for a Rainy Day .............................1863...280...280 An Exclusive...........................................1852...112...112 An Impossibility ......................................1846...263...263 Analogy................................................1850...113...113 Aucicnt Impostor, An...................................1852...170...170 Ancient Mariner, An ...................................1852...277...277 And here are the Girls in the Round Flats..............1855...169...169 Anglers hear Strange Things ...........................1845...036...036 Angling in the Serpentine .............................1851...102...102 Another Bit from the Mining Districts .................1854...121...121 Another Bit of Serious Pantomime.......................1852...163...163 Another Innocent and Amusing, &amp;c.......................1848<a href="#link048...048 Anxious Moment, An ....................................1853...204...204 Appearances are Deceptive..............................1850...274...274 Appropriate ...........................................1855...251...251 Aquatics...............................................1855...169...169 ...216...216 ...226...226 Arithmetic at the University ..........................1851...134...134 Artful Excuse, An......................................1847...094...094 Ascot, At .............................................1852...218...218 Association for the Advancement of Science , An .......1846...279...279 Awful Appearance of a "Wopps" .........................1849...213...213 Awful Instance of Perception, &amp;c.......................1849<a href="#link055...055 Awful Occurrence at an Evening Party...................1851...038...038 Awful Position during a Storm .........................1846...077...077 Awful Scene on the Chain Pier, Brighton................1846...050...050 Awkward ...............................................1855...049...049 Awkward Consequence of removing the Soldiers ..........1851...257...257 Bachelor Housekeeping .................................1852...263...263 Back View, A ..........................................1854...211...211 Ballooning ............................................1850...266...266 Bands of Hope, The.....................................1852...056...056 Barrack Life ..........................................1851...058...058 Bath at Boulogne, A....................................1853...165...165 Battle of the Pianos, The..............................1855...250...250 Battledore and Shuttlecock.............................1854...220...220 Beard and Moustache Movement, The......................1853...140...140 Beard Movement, The....................................1854...049...049 Something wrong with the Chimney ......................1846...279...279 Best of Both Worlds....................................1848...084...084 Best Preventive against Sea-sickness: I., II., III.....1855...163...163 Betting Fever, The ....................................1852...265...265 Birthday, The.,........................................1853...088...088 Bit from the Mining Districts .........................1854...121...121 Bit of his Mind, A.....................................1853...222...222 Bit of Serious Pantomime, A ...........................1855...168...168 Bitter Sarcasm ........................................1850...027...027 Bles the Boy 1 .......................................1850...015...015 Boat for an Hour, A ...................................1846...151...151 "Bolted 1".............................................1852...265...265 Bon-bon from a Juvenile Party, A.......................1851...017...017 ...090...090 Bottom-Fishing.........................................1855...118...118 Bribery is detestable, but Politeness costs Nothing....1847...183...183 Brilliant Idea. A......................................1854...259...259 British Ruffian, A.....................................1852...132...132 Briton Abroad, The.....................................1853...124...124 Brook Green Volunteer, The.............................1846...155...155 ...157...157 ...159...159 ...173...173 ...174...174 ...175...175 ...177...177 Brutal Fellow, A ......................................1853...046...046 By the "Sad Sea Waves "................................1854...268...268 Candid.................................................1848...127...127 Capital Offer, A.......................................1854...208...208 Caught.................................................1847...098...098 Cause for Reproof, A ..................................1847...257...257 Caution to a Little Boy at a Festive Season, A ........1853...119...119 Changing the Subject ..................................1848...122...122 Chatelaine, The........................................1849...064...064 Cheap Day's Hunting, A.................................1849...184...184 ...185...185 Church and State ......................................1851...057...057 Close of the Season&mdash;The London Footman exhausted .....1846<a href="#link279...279 Cold Comfort...........................................1849...139...139 Coming to the Point....................................1848...019...019 Coming Home ...........................................1853...086...086 Comparative Love.......................................1851...174...174 Complimentary .........................................1850...065...065 Complimentary .........................................1855...261...261 Compliments ...........................................1854...246...246 Confound the Shops.....................................1852...054...054 Conscientious Stable Keeper, The.......................1853...068...068 Consols at 90, Consols at 80 ..........................1848...167...167 Consolation............................................1845...118...118 Constitutional Walk, The...............................1853...258...258 Cool Assurance.........................................1854...205...205 Correct Mode of Riding in Rotten Row...................1851...007...007 Country Ball, A........................................1851...128...128 Country Races .........................................1854...243...243 Court Dress, A ........................................1848...005...005 Cruel .................................................1851...006...006 Cruel .................................................1853...110...110 Curious Mode of Conducting a Retail Establishment......1855...225...225 Curious Person, A......................................1852...278...278 Cut Him down Behind....................................1852...063...063 Day's Pleasure, A .....................................1851...276...276 Dear Delights of Britain's Summer Fields, The..........1852...173...173 "De Gustibus," &amp;c., &amp;c.................................1846<a href="#link016...016 De Gustibus ...........................................1851...127...127 Delicate ..............................................1852...064...064 Delicacy of the Season.................................1852...056...056 Delicious Morsel, A....................................1846...025...025 Delicious Sail off Dover, A............................1854...087...087 Delights of Travel.....................................1846...162...162 Delightful Outdoor Exercise ...........................1854...267...267 Delusion, A .......................................... 1855...207...207 Derby Epidemic ........................................1846...014...014 Did you Ever? .........................................1851...004...004 Difference of View.....................................1847...176...176 Different Opinions.................................... 1851...069...069 Different People have Different Opinions ..............1852...026...026 Discernment ...........................................1853...048...048 Distraction............................................1847...086...086 Distressing Result of Emigration ......................1851...146...146 Distwessing-Vewy ......................................1853...066...066 Division of Labour ....................................1853...089...089 Docile Husband, The ...................................1847...258...258 Dog Days ..............................................1853...077...077 Doing a Little Bill ...................................1846...020...020 Doing it Thoroughly....................................1855...153...153 Domestic Bliss ........................................1847...036...036 ...147...147 Domestic Bliss ....................................... 1848...024...024 Domestic Event in the Zoological Gardens ..............1850...166...166 ...167...167 Domestic Sanitary Regulations .........................1850...125...125 Doubtful...............................................1850...257...257 Drawing-room Entertainment, A .........................1853...219...219 Dreadful Crisis ...................................... 1848...106...106 Dreadful Destitution...................................1848...209...209 Dreadful Shock to the Nerves, A .......................1846...052...052 Dumb Waiter, A ........................................1849...083...083 During Frost a Foxhunter gets too big for his clothes..1854...138...138 Early Education........................................1852...183...183 Easily Pleased ........................................1852...056...056 Easily Satisfied ......................................1852...052...052 Easy Shaving...........................................1852...134...134 Easy Forecast, An .....................................1853...244...244 Educational Movement...................................1848...253...253 Effects of Salt Water, as observed at the Regatta Ball.1852...227...227 Elegant and Rational Costume for Close Weather.........1850...135...135 Elegant Habit .........................................1853...112...112 End of a Five Minutes' Burst, The......................1847...178...178 Energetic .............................................1850...099...099 Enter Mr. Bottles the Butler ..........................1854...047...047 Enthusiastic Fisherman, An ............................1849...127...127 Evening Parties........................................1849...025...025 Evil Communications ...................................1854...267...267 Every Little Helps ....................................1850...108...108 Excellent Wine, An.....................................1846...035...035 Excessively Polite.....................................1851...068...068 Excited Nimrod, An.....................................1853...254...254 Experienced Veteran, An................................1854...259...259 Extreme Delicacy.......................................1848...260...260 Extremes Meet .........................................1845...214...214 Eye to Business, An....................................1845...075...075 Fact, A................................................1854...128...128 False Position, A .....................................1853...085...085 Familiarity................. ..........................1846...251...251 Fancy Dress Bill ......................................1846...062...062 Fancy Portrait ........................................1852...011...011 Fashionable Intelligence ..............................1845...006...006 Fashionable Intelligence ..............................1845...151...151 Fashions, The .........................................1850...024...024 Fashions for Fast Mea..................................1847...205...205 Fashions in Pins, A ...................................1845...032...032 Faulty Mirror, A ......................................1850...116...116 Filling up the Census Paper............................1851...131...131 Fine Business, indeed, the Wretch! ....................1855...247...247 Fine Disposition, A ...................................1848...063...063 Fish Dinner, The ......................................1846...014...014 Fishing off a Watering Place ..........................1852...083...083 Fishing off Brighton...................................1840...151...151 Fishing with Hies ........ ............................1851...141...141 Flowers of the French Army ............................1851...076...076 Fly-Fishing............................................1853...156...156 ...254...254 Folkestone, Arrival of the Boat .......................1852...203...203 Foolish and a Betting Man. A...........................1852...263...263 Foreigner of Distinction ..............................1852...070...070 Fox steals away from Cover.............................1851...106...106 Fragment, A ...........................................1847...084...084 Fresh Morning .........................................1854...247...247 Friendly but very Unpleasant...........................1855...244...244 Frightful! ............................................1855...206...206 Frightful upset of Dignity ............................1852...148...148 From a Beautiful Miniature.............................1843...034...034 Fiobx the Mining Districts ............................1855...241...241 Gallantry .............................................1851...032...032 Gammon.................................................1847...266...266 Garret and the Conservatory, The.......................1852...124...124 Gay Young Fellow, A....................................1851...016...016 Genteel Practice ......................................1840...026...026 Gentle Craft, The......................................1853...104...104 Glorious News .........................................1846...074...074 Going out Arresting....................................1846...244...244 Going out to an "At Home"..............................1852...130...130 Going to Cover ........................................1852...072...072 Gold Fish at Hampton Court, The........................1846...065...065 Good Little Boy, The ..................................1850...026...026 Good Reasons ..........................................1852...224...224 Good-sized Float, A.............. .....................1852...277...277 Gorgeous Spectacle ....................................1854...248...248 Grandmamma is supposed, &amp;c.............................1851<a href="#link115...115 Grand Show of Prize Vegetarians .......................1852...117...117 Great Bargain, A ......................................1854...171...171 Great Chartist Demonstration, The .....................1848...269...269 ...270...270 ...271...271 ...272...272 Great Exhibition, Memorials of the ....................1851...228...228 to...240...240 Great Linen-drapery Nuisance, The .....................1847...273...273 Great Loss, A .........................................1852...052...052 Great Mental Effort, A ................................1853...085...085 Great Misfortune, A....................................1847...245...245 Great Want of Veneration ..............................1844...022...022 Greenwich Dinner, The .................................1853...009...009 Greenwich Fair, At ....................................1846...182...182 Gross Insult ..........................................1852...126...126 Gross Offence, A ......................................1848...097...097 Groundless Alarm.......................................1850...156...156 Grouse Shooting late in the Season&mdash;Jolly, Very........1854<a href="#link179...179 Hack for the Day, A ...................................1853...008...008 Hall along of them Betting Offices.....................1852...046...046 Hansom Offer, A .......................................1852...252...252 Hard Rider, A .........................................1854...089...089 Hat Moving Experiment, The ............................1853...172...172 Heart-Breaking.........................................1854...215...215 Heavy Blow, A..........................................1852...136...136 Heroism................................................1855...272...272 Highland Game in a London Street, A....................1849...014...014 Highly Interesting.....................................1852...076...076 Home for the Holidays..................................1848...022...022 Honeymoon, The ........................................1850...079...079 Hooking and Eyeing ....................................1851...016...016 Horrible Business, A ..................................1851...142...142 Horrible Idea, A ......................................1855...247...247 Horrible Incident in Real Life ........................1852...116...116 Housemaids Refusing Service............................1852...114...114 How do you like it?....................................1850...135...135 How Kind...............................................1854...203...203 How to Dress a Lobster ................................1851...062...062 How to Escape from a Scolding Wife ....................1847...221...221 How to get a Connection................................1854...222...222 How to Get Rid of a Gratis Patient ....................1846...014...014 How to Flatter a Gent..................................1854...253...253 How to make a Chatelaine, &amp;c..........................1849<a href="#link090...090 How to make Culprits Comfortable ......................1849...137...137 How No. 4 Enjoyed Himself and How No. 8 Suffered.......1850...142...142 How to Suit the Taste..................................1846...012...012 How to Take Care of the Children ......................1852...177...177 Humorous Customer, A .. ...............................1853...181...181 Hunting Memorandum.................................... 1853...100...100 Impending Disaster, An.................................1847...082...082 Improvement in Irish Affairs ..........................1854...217...217 Impudence..............................................1848...243...243 Impudent Minx. An......................................1852...084...084 In a very Pad Way .....................................1853...205...205 In Camp, Hospitality ..................................1853...085...085 In for It..............................................1844...007...007 Indiscretion ..........................................1855...224...224 Influenza, The ........................................1847...262...262 Information............................................1846...126...126 Ingenious Fellow, An ..................................1851...095...095 Ingenious Idea ........................................1853...067...067 Innocence .............................................1847...024...024 Innocent and Amusing Little Trick .....................1848...043...043 Inquiring Mind, An.....................................1847...261...261 Insulting a Scotchman..................................1854...264...264 Interesting ...........................................1852...148...148 Interesting Scene During the Canvas....................1852...020...020 Interesting Story, The.................................1850...031...031 Irish Hotel, An........................................1846...217...217 Is it So?..............................................1849...150...150 Jack Tar, A ...........................................1850...037...037 Jealousy...............................................1850...016...016 Jealousy ..............................................1854...259...259 John Thomas Misplaced .................................1848...114...114 Jolly Dog, A ......................................... 1850...064...064 Joys of Ocean, The ....................................1848...006...006 Judicious..............................................1856...223...223 Just Like Him .........................................1851...154...154 Just the Man...........................................1852...030...030 Knowledge is Power.....................................1853...090...090 Ladies of the Creation ................................1851...186...186 ...199...199 La Mode................................................1852...032...032 Late Arrival, A........................................1851...003...003 Large Pump of Caution, A...............................1855...265...265 Laying the Dust............................... ........1850...066...066 Loft-handed Compliment, A .............................1853...045...045 Literal................................................1854...046...046 Literary Chit-chat.....................................1842...273...273 Little Bit of Humbug, A................................1851...057...057 Little Surprise, A.....................................1847...019...019 Little Women...........................................1849...096...096 London Gent Abroad, A..................................1851...012...012 Long Vacation .........................................1847...161...161 Long Vacation in Arcadia, The .........................1844...148...148 Look before you Leap ..................................1848...202...202 Lost One, The .........................................1849...034...034 Love on the Ocean .....................................1845...073...073 Lucid Explanation, A ..................................1849...262...262 Making the Best of it..................................1845...115...115 Making the Best of it .................................1856...218...218 Making the Most of it .................................1845...012...012 Man about Town, A......................................1846...060...060 Man in Brass lamenting Decline of Lord Mayor's Show....1850...264...264 Man of Feeling, A......................................1848...084...084 Man of Opinion, A .....................................1852...258...258 Manly Sorrow ..........................................1850...182...182 Manners make the Man ..................................1852...100...100 March of Luxury .......................................1846...245...245 Master of the Situation................................1848...188...188 Maternal Solicitude ...................................1849...010...010 May Day................................................1852...183...183 May Difference of Opinion, &amp;c..........................1846<a href="#link038...038 Meeting him Halfway ...................................1848...123...123 Melancholy Reverse of Fortune..........................1846...127...127 Melancholy Scene at the Opera on a crowded Night ......1847...182...182 Men of Business........................................1849...030...030 Men of Experience .....................................1846...105...105 Men of the World.......................................1852...123...123 Mermaids at I'lay............................. ........1848...018...018 Michaelmas Day. The cheap Tailor.......................1847...278...278 Might is Right ........................................1853...160...160 Might versus Right ....................................1846...251...251 Misplaced Confidence ..................................1849...207...207 Mistaken Impression, A ................................1855...223...223 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Housekeeping.................1849...021...021 ...023...023 ...025...025 ...027...027 ...029...029 ...031...031 ...033...033 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Horsekeeping ................1849...050...050 ...035...035 ...037...037 ...039...039 ...040...040 ...053...053 ...055...055 ...057...057 ...059...059 ...171...171 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Hunting......................1849...051...051 ...061...061...063...063...065...065<a href="#link067...067...069...069...071...071<a href="#link073...073...075...075 ...077...077...079...079<a href="#link080...080...093...093...095...095 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Fishing .....................1850...051...051 ...097...097...099...099<a href="#link101...101...103...103...105...105<a href="#link107...107 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Shooting.....................1850...051...051 ...109...109...111...111...113...113<a href="#link115...115...117...117...119...119<a href="#link139...139...141...141 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Racing.......................1851...143...143 ...144...144<a href="#link145...145 Misunderstanding.......................................1853...264...264 More Free than Welcome ............................... 1849...082...082 Morning after The Derby, The ..........................1853...060...060 Most Alarming Swelling, A..............................1850...126...126 Most Distressing ......................................1855...253...253 Moustache Movement ....................................1854...210...210 ...220...220<a href="#link274...274 Mr. 'Arry Belville on the Continent Generally .........1853...201...201 Mr. Punch's Fancy Ball.................................1847...041...041 ...044...044 Mr. Verdant's First Attempt at Book-making ............1853...060...060 Much too Clever .......................................1850...100...100 Much too Considrate ..................................1850...032...032 Murder will out........................................1852...020...020 "Music hath Charms," &amp;c................................1854<a href="#link278...278 Mysterious Visitor, A .................................1854...162...162 Native Politeness......................................1855...248...248 Never Satisfied .......................................1848...039...039 New Act, The ..........................................1853...047...047 New Arrival, The.......................................1849...227...227 New Bonnet, The........................................1853...085...085 New Cricketing Dresses to Protect from swift bowling...1854...168...168 New Groom, The ........................................1851...170...170 New Hunter, The........................................1848...070...070 New Purchase, The .....................................1855...152...152 Nice Game at Billiards, A .............................1853...091...091 Nice Team, A ..........................................1852...259...259 No Doubt ..............................................1849...067...067 No News is Good News ..................................1850...093...093 No Place like Home.....................................1853...104...104 North East Wind .......................................1851...058...058 Not a difficult Thing to Foretell......................1831...075...075 Not the First Time ....................................1855...275...275 Not to be played with .................................1848...058...058 Not very likely .......................................1850...108...108 Not what he wanted.....................................1851...153...153 Not yet ...............................................1851...076...076 Nothing like knowing the Country ......................1854...201...201 Nothing like Prudence..................................1849...114...114 Nothing like System....................................1847...214...214 Nothing like Warm Bathing .............................1846...028...028 Of Course .............................................1851...046...046 Off the Foreland ......................................1846...227...227 Oh! ...................................................1854...212...212 Oh, the Curtains! .....................................1853...086...086 Old Gentleman is in a hurry to get to the Station......1853...141...141 Omnibus Incident, An...................................1846...112...112 One of the Effects of the Blackguard Betting Offices...1852...265...265 Only a Penny!..........................................1851...158...158 On the Moors...........................................1834...202...202 Ornament to Society, An................................1852...160...160 Opera, The.............................................1846...181...181 Opera, The.............................................1851...132...132 Our Boys...............................................1853...210...210 Our English Climate....................................1847...143...143 Our Foreign Visitors...................................1851...131...131 Our Friend Belville airs his French at Boulogne........1854...201...201 Our Lazy Contributor ..................................1846...276...276 Our National Defences..................................1848...026...026 Our "Used-up" Man takes a Walk with his Cousins........1850...213...213 Our Young People.......................................1847...086...086 Out of Town ...........................................1849...165...165 Overtaken by the Tide, Margate ........................1848...226...226 Oxford Costume.........................................1853...275...275 Oysters in June-Delicious! ............................1852...136...136 Pater Familia as makes himself independent of Hotels...1854...123...123 Perfect Sincerity ; or, Thinkings Aloud................1849...180...180 ...181...181<a href="#link262...262 Perils of a Court Presentation, The ...................1855...206...206 Personal Opinion, A....................................1846...086...086 Philosopher, A ........................................1852...010...010 Pic-nic, The ..........................................1851...106...106 Picture, A ............................................1853...051...051 Pike is a voracious Fish, The..........................1852...090...090 Pity is Akin to Love...................................1846...112...112 Pity tbe Sorrows of the Poor Police ...................1852...013...013 Plain Speaking ........................................1848...061...061 Playful Creature, A ...................................1853...059...059 Pleasing Delusion, A ..................................1846...220...220 Pleasant...............................................1852...092...092 ...120...120 Pleasant...............................................1855...264...264 Pleasant State of Thing,, A............................1846...040...040 Pleasant Street Game ..................................1850...020...020 Pleasures of Housekeeping .............................1849...255...255 Pleasures of the Studio................................1852...174...174 Pledge of Affection, A.................................1847...209...209 Poor Tommy.............................................1852...054...054 Portrait of a Lady.....................................1852...154...154 Potiehomania.. ........................................1855...280...280 Poultry Fancies........................................1853...224...224 Poultry Fancics-the Pets ..............................1853...252...252 Poultry Mania, The.....................................1853...260...260 Preparing for the Derby ...............................1852...176...176 Pride .................................................1845...150...150 Private and Confidential ..............................1852...214...214 Private Opinion, A ....................................1846...011...011 Private Theatricals ...................................1854...081...081 Probable Effect of Cheap Furniture ....................1846...064...064 Probable Result of the Cochin China Fowl Mania ........1853...249...249 Prodigious! ...........................................1847...015...015 Prodigious Nuisance, A ................................1852...136...136 Professional Man, A....................................1850...017...017 Professor Buckwheat Impressing, &amp;c.....................1845<a href="#link130...130 Progress of Slang, The.................................1847...038...038 Proper Pride ..........................................1849...030...030 Propriety..............................................1848...005...005 Prudence and Imprudence ...............................1847...243...243 Prudent Resolve, A ....................................1853...093...093 Punctuality is the Soul of Business....................1845...214...214 Putting his Foot in it ................................1852...018...018 Puzzling Order, A......................................1846...092...092 Quirt Weed, A .........................................1852...015...015 Quite a Novelty........................................1854...225...225 Quite Unnecessary......................................1848...108...108 Railway Literature.....................................1852...015...015 Railway Miseries ......................................1845...241...241 Rather a Bad Look-out .................................1849...052...052 Rather a Drop .........................................1855...184...184 Rather Awkward for Tomkins ............................1855...129...129 Rather Severe .........................................1852...116...116 Rather Suspicious......................................1850...050...050 Real Difficulty, A.....................................1848...120...120 Real Enjoyment.........................................1849...034...034 Real Flower Show, The .................................1855...190...190 Reduced Circumstances .................................1846...257...257 Reflection, A .........................................1849...170...170 Regular Customer, A ...................................1852...030...030 Religion la Mode ....................................1850...074...074 Remonstrance ..........................................1853...185...185 Removing ..............................................1847...178...178 ...179...179 Return from a Masquerade...............................1844...256...256 Returning from the Seaside.............................1846...101...101 Reward of Merit .......................................1851...110...110 Rising Generation, The ................................1846...109...109 Rising Generation, The ................................1847...035...035 ...073...073 Rising Generation, The ................................1851...066...066 Road-side on the Derby Day, The........................1850...146...146 Romance and Reality ...................................1852...013...013 Romance of Roast Ducks, A .............................1848...078...078 Room for Improvement ..................................1850...134...134 Rough Country, A ......................................1847...256...256 Round Hat, The, with Novels in a Storm ................1854...087...087 Ruling Passion, The....................................1846...028...028 Sailors on Shore Carousing ............................1850...137...137 St Bernard Mastiff, The................................1853...242...242 Savage Reproof, A .....................................1854...149...149 Sccne.--Bureau of the Chiefs of the Douanes............1853...211...211 Scene on the English Coast.............................1855...208...208 Scene--Westminster Bridge .............................1853...069...069 Sea-side Hat, The .....................................1854...221...221 ...247...247 Sea-side Literature for Young Ladies...................1849...147...147 Sea-side. Saturday Evening ............................1848...216...216 Sea-side. The Bathing Hour.............................1855...152...152 Seasonable Question....................................1850...132...132 Self-Esteem............................................1848...126...126 Sell, A................................................1851...150...150 Servantgalism..........................................1853...212...212 ...217...217...218...218<a href="#link221...221...222...222...242...242 Shakespeare a little altered...........................1845...172...172 Silver Age, The........................................1853...162...162 Sketch at Ramsgate, A..................................1852...051...051 Sketch from Nature, A..................................1845...066...066 Sketch near Burton Crescent ...........................1847...038...038 Sketch of Character by, &amp;c.............................1850<a href="#link095...095 Small by Degrees and beautifully Less..................1855...219...219 Smart Youth, A.........................................1847...267...267 Snow-Flakes ...........................................1853...088...088 Snuffed out............................................1851...003...003 Social Struggles.......................................1852...212...212 So fond of it .........................................1851...175...175 Solicitude ............................................1849...048...048 Something like a Brother...............................1852...033...033 Something like a Holiday...............................1845...022...022 Sometimes you "pick up" Hunters for next to nothing ...1847...261...261 Son and Heir...........................................1853...072...072 Sound Advice...........................................1852...076...076 Speak as you Think ....................................1849...142...142 Speculators............................................1846...017...017 Spelling a Newspaper ..................................1842...180...180 Splendid Day with the "Queen's"........................1848...105...105 Sporting Character, A..................................1847...131...131 Sporting Extraordinary.................................1852...008...008 Sporting Gent practising for the Season ...............1847...278...278 Sporting Intelligence..................................1852...102...102 Stag at Bay, The ......................................1845...278...278 Startling Effect of the "Gold Diggings"................1852...134...134 Startling Request, A...................................1846...053...053 Steeple-Chase, The ....................................1853...200...200 Strange, but True......................................1850...074...074 Street Dialogue........................................1843...098...098 Strong Assertion ......................................1853...006...006 Study of an Elderly Female, &amp;c.........................1853<a href="#link180...180 Stunning Politeness ...................................1856...273...273 Subject for a Picture..................................1851...015...015 Suburban Felicity, Domestic (Poultry) Incident.........1854...138...138 Suggestion, A..........................................1848...093...093 Suggestive of a Picturesque Figure.....................1849...256...256 Summer in Elysium .....................................1852...148...148 Symptoms of Wet Weather................................1846...013...013 Taking Change .........................................1850...031...031 Taking it Coolly ......................................1852...004...004 Taste .................................................1853...060...060 Taste in the Drawing-room, Villikins and his Dinah.....1854...250...250 Tempus Edax Rerum .....................................1852...078...078 Terrible Accident .....................................1855...227...227 Terrible Domestic Incident.............................1849...130...130 Test of Gallantry. The.................................1845...004...004 Test of Strength, A ...................................1854...135...135 Thames Fishing.........................................1851...071...071 That is the Question...................................1852...133...133 Thorough Good Cook, A..................................1855...125...125 Those Shocking Clubs...................................1855...205...205 Tight Fit, A ..........................................1846...092...092 Too Civil by Half............ .........................1852...070...070 Too Faithful Portrait, The ............................1850...209...209 Too Popular by Half ...................................1847...250...250 Topsy Turveydom........................................1850...158...158 Touching Simplicity....................................1856...223...223 Town and Country ......................................1852...081...081 Travellers' Requisites ................................1854...253...253 Trial-for-Murder Mania, The............................1849...161...161 Troops and the Weather, The............................1845...029...029 True Politeness........................................1851...140...140 True Respectability ...................................1850...131...131 Truth is Great ........................................1854...207...207 Turfites ..............................................1853...132...132 Undeniable.............................................1845...185...185 Undesigned Incident, An................................1853...103...103 Unfeeling Observation..................................1847...007...007 Unlucky................................................1847...024...024 Unreasonable Complaint, An.............................1853...238...238 Unseasonable Sport ....................................1852...133...133 Up to Weight.................... ......................1854...121...121 Used up ...............................................1851...098...098 Useful if not Ornamental...............................1855...211...211 Useless Information ...................................1851...172...172 Valuable Animal, A.....................................1852...006...006 Valuable Hint .........................................1849...094...094 Very Accommodating ....................................1853...249...249 Very Acute.............................................1852...074...074 Very Considerate ......................................1852...122...122 Very Fine Fruit........................................1848...010...010 Very Fine Gentlemen ...................................1848...061...061 Very Fine Talking......................................1846...011...011 Very Great Man, A .....................................1854...216...216 Very Kind .............................................1854...164...164 Very Low People .......................................1852...084...084 Very Particular .......................................1855...210...210 Very Proper Diet for Hot Weather.......................1852...062...062 Very Old Soldier, A....................................1846...039...039 Very Vulgar Subject, A ................................1853...086...086 Very Young Mariner, A .................................1854...277...277 Victim of Circumstances, A.............................1847...225...225 Victim of Pleasure, A .................................1854...215...215 Visit to the Antediluvian Reptiles at Sydenham, A......1854...246...246 Waiting for a Dip .....................................1847...154...154 Waltonians.............................................1852...083...083 We All have our Troubles ..............................1852...028...028 Wedding Day, The ......................................1855...275...275 Weighty Matter, A .....................................1851...091...091 Wellington Statue, The ................................1846...260...260 What a Dreadful Story! ................................1854...149...149 What is This? .........................................1849...038...038 What's the Matter?.....................................1849...255...255 What they said to Themselves...........................1852...005...005 What will He do with Them ?............................1855...241...241 Where Ignorance is not Bliss ..........................1848...245...245 Which is Best? ........................................1849...276...276 Whiskerandos..................... . ...................1854...276...276 Who wouldn't keep a Footman?...........................1850...267...267 Wholesome Prejudice ...................................1850...176...176 Why, Indeed? ..........................................1855...122...122 Wiser and a Better Man, A..............................1852...263...263 Wounded Pride.............:............................1850...156...156 Yachting...............................................1854...276...276 Young Affection........................................1844...162...162 Young Gentleman and Scholar, A.........................1846...133...133 Young Mariner, A.......................................1852...277...277 Young Patrician, A ....................................1853...177...177 Young Philosopher, A...................................1847...215...215 Youth at the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm ...........1854...248...248 {003} [Illustration: 003] {004} [Illustration: 004] {005} [Illustration: 005] {006} [Illustration: 006] {007} [Illustration: 007] {008} [Illustration: 008] {009} [Illustration: 009] {010} [Illustration: 010] {011} [Illustration: 011] {012} [Illustration: 012] {013} [Illustration: 013] {014} [Illustration: 014] {015} [Illustration: 015] {016} [Illustration: 016] {017} [Illustration: 017] {018} [Illustration: 018] {019} [Illustration: 019] {020} [Illustration: 020] {021} [Illustration: 021] 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44662	----	JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER Volume Two (of Three) FROM THE COLLECTION OF "MR. PUNCH" LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 1887 Transcriber's Note: The only text in this file is that drawn in the images. This is not easily read unless viewing the "medium size" and "original size" available by link under each image. INDEX Academic Costume.......................................1851 ...134...134 Adding Insult to Injury ...............................1845 ...052...052 Adding Insult to Injury ...............................1857 ...188...188 Adding Iasult to Injury ...............................1859 ...202...202 Advent of Spring, The .................................1849 ...157...157 Affecting Incident at Boulogne ........................1853 ...052...052 Affecting-Rather.......................................1851 ...107...107 After the Bath ........................................1857 ...264...264 Afternoon Tea .........................................1859 ...220...220 Agreeable Prescription, An.............................1858 ...106...106 Agricultural Distress..................................1851 ...074...074 Alarming Proposition ..................................1859 ...189...189 Always be Polite when Travelling.......................1856 ...195...195 Amateur Pantomime......................................1857 ...014...014 Ample Protection ......................................1859 ...136...136 An Absentee ...........................................1845 ...232...232 An Art that doth Disfigure Nature......................1856 ...186...186 An Hour's Ride.........................................1852 ...074...074 Angling Delights ......................................1859 ...062...062 Another Bit from the Mining District...................1854 ...139...139 Another Railway Misery.................................1855 ...092...092 April Fool, An ........................................1855 ...046...046 Aquatic Manouvres......................................1859 ...168...168 'Arry and 'Arriet .....................................1S58 ...195...195 Art Progress ..........................................1S57 ...127...127 Artificial Ice-Grand Pas des Patineurs.................1850 ...026...026 Artistic (!) Studio, The...............................1857 ...193...193 Assurance .............................................1847 ...105...105 Astounding Announcement................................1857 ...130...130 Astonishing a Young One ...............................1858 ...370...370 Astonishing Request An................................1857 ...199...199 As Well be out of the World as out of the Fashion......1850 ...105...105 At Aldershot - A Rather Difficult Manouvre ............1859 ...269...269 At Epsom ..............................................1850 ...232...232 At Paris...............................................1853 ...169...169 At the Play............................................1858 ...261...261 At the Seaside ................. ......................1853 ...271...271 Average W'eight of the Foot'Guards.....................1850 ...096...096 Awkward Predicament....................................1858 ...189...189 Bad Time for John Thomas, A ...........................1856 ...225...225 Bare Assertion, A .....................................1854 ...087...087 Battle of the Hyde Park ...............................1855 ...200...200 Beard Movement, The....................................1854 ...064...064 Beard Movement, The....................................1857 ...128...128 Beard Movement, The....................................1856 ...263...263 Beauty in Distress.....................................1858 ...392...392 Benefit of Clergy .....................................1852 ...087...087 Best Run of the Season, The ...........................1857 ...126...126 Bit of a Breeze, A.....................................1856 ...185...185 Black Indignity, A ....................................1857 ...127...127 Bless You-Bless You!...................................1855 ...153...153 Blind with Rage........................................1856 ...201...201 Bon-bon from a Juvenile Tarty, A.......................1851 ...033...033 British Forces, The, and the Crimean War ..............1853 ...114...114 1856 ...120...120 British Juryman Preparing for the Worst, The...........1859 ...236...236 Broad Caricature ......................................1843 ...047...047 Brothers in Arms ......................................1853 ...187...187 Brown Entertains his Friends wi' a Haggis..............1859 ...010...010 Brutal levity..........................................1863 ...258...258 Business-like .........................................1854 ...063...063 Bye-Day at Easter, A ..................................1858 ...211...211 By the Sad Sea Waves...................................1858 ...108...108 Camp Lite-A Bit of Sentiment...........................1853 ...060...060 Camp Life-A Day Surprise ..............................1853 ...271...271 Camp Life-A Night Surprise ............................1853 ...271...271 Candid.................................................1859 ...231...231 Canine.................................................1851 ...139...139 Careful Rider, A ......................................1853 ...269...269 Case of Real Distress, A...............................1854 ...047...047 Catching a Tartar......................................1856 ...184...184 Caution During Mistletoe Season .......................1855 ...002...002 Caution to Gentlemen Walking to Evening Parlies........1855 ...250...250 Caution to Travellers .................................1853 ...171...171 CautiouS Bird, A ......................................1858 ...100...100 Cavalier, A............................................1857 ...241...241 Censors ...............................................1858 ...256...256 Census, The ...........................................1861 ...259...259 Certainly Not..........................................1S55 ...072...072 Champion, The..........................................1844 ...020...020 Christmas Eve .........................................1863 ...005...005 Christmas Party, A, Grandpapa Dances Sir Roger ........1856 ...009...009 Citizen of the World, A ...............................1855 ...207...207 Civil Cabman, The .....................................1857 ...240...240 Coarse, but Characteristic ............................1S50 ...139...139 Cold Wealher...........................................1855 ...029...029 Comet, The ............................................1858 ...229...229 Coming Collision, The..................................1857 ...225...225 Common Objects at the Seaside..........................1858 ...193...193 Common Objects at the Seaside..........................1857 ...254...254 Complacent Belief, A ..................................1857 ...270...270 Compliments of the Season..............................1861 ...004...004 Confidence of Youth, The ..............................1847 ...096...096 Consolation............................................1856 ...263...263 Consultation, A........................................1856 ...143...143 Cool Request, A .......................................1856 ...247...247 Cool Request ..........................................1857 ...082...082 Cracker Bon-Bon........................................1862 ...021...021 Cricket-Capital Practice Bowling of the Period ........1859 ...265...265 Crinoline Again........................................1858 ...132...132 Crinoline on the Water.................................1858 ...197...197 Cupid at Sea ..........................................1859 ...103...103 Currency Question, The ................................1847 ...272...272 Day After the Juvenile Party, The......................1847 ...037...037 Day at the Camp, A.....................................1860 ...251...251 Day Very Late in the Season, A.........................1859 ...198...198 Deceiver, A ...........................................1859 ...039...039 Deerstalking Made Easy.................................1857 ...233...233 Delicate Compliment, A ................................1856 ...067...067 Delicate Creature, A...................................1855 ...085...085 Delicate Hint, A ..................................... 1855 ...108...108 Delicate Way of Putting It.............................1862 ...247...247 Delicate Test .........................................1859 ...225...225 Delicious..............................................1857 ...036...036 Delicious Dip, A ......................................1857 ...207...207 Delightful Privilege during the Winter Months .........1847 ...025...025 Delusive Notion........................................1852 ...146...146 Demon of the Street, The ..............................1858 ...223...223 Did You Ever? .........................................1858 ...111...1ll Disagreeable Truth ....................................1851 ...092...092 Disappointed One, The .................................1858 ...187...187 Discretion ........................................... 1847 ...064...064 Disgusting for Augustus ...............................1858 ...196...196 Distressed Agriculturist, A............................1856 ...238...238 Distressing Result of Eating Turkey ...................1855 ...034...034 Disturber of Public Peace, A ..........................1848 ...135...135 Domestic Bliss ........................................1847 ...056...056 Domestic Doctoring ....................................1856 ...181...181 Domestic Economy ......................................1859 ...099...099 Domestic Extravaganza .................................1858 ...205...205 Double Game, A ........................................1858 ...239...239 Drawing the Line...............-.......................1857 ...141...141 Dreadful for Young Oxford..............................1859 ...213...213 Dreadful Joke .........................................1855 ...007...007 Dress Circle at Punch and Judy.........................1854 ...039...039 Dweadful Accident in High Life.........................1857 ...093...093 Eager Applicants..,....................................1854 ...039...039 Early Philosophy ......................................1847 ...112...112 Easier Said than Done..................................1856 ...239...239 East Wind Joke, An ....................................1855 ...255...255 Easy Matter, An .......................................1859 ...270...270 Education in the Mining Districts......................1855 ...095...095 Eligible Party, An ....................................1848 ...103...103 English Nobleman, An, Painted by the French ...........1848 ...109...109 Enthusiasm ............................................1854 ...115...115 Envious Youth, An .....................................1857 ...018...018 Epigrammatic ..........................................1845 ...189...189 Equestrian Difficulty, An .............................1858 ...227...227 Equine ................................................1858 ...144...144 Evening Party at Sebastopol ...........................1854 ...116...116 Every Lady her Own Bathing Machine.....................1849 ...058...058 Excitement ............................................1856 ...053...053 Expanse of Fashion, The ...............................1859 ...203...203 Fact, A................................................1861 ...243...243 Fact from the Nursery, A ..............................1856 ...234...234 Faded Youth, A ........................................1847 ...131...131 Fair and Equal.........................................1858 ...030...030 Fair Disputants .......................................1858 ...258...258 Fair Toxophilites, The ................................1858 ...221...221 Family Group, A, Baby Stirring the Pudding.............1862 ...006...006 Fancy goes a Great Way.................................1846 ...257...257 Fancy Sketch ..........................................1858 ...270...270 Farm-yard, The ........................................1853 ...246...246 Fashion of the Period .................................1858 ...247...247 Fellow Feeling.........................................1856 ...246...246 Feminine Amenities.....................................1856 ...174...174 Festive Season, The....................................1857 ...025...025 Fine Hautboys..........................................1855 ...051...051 Finishing Touch to a Picture ..........................1854 ...051...051 Flattering ............................................1855 ...087...087 Flunkeiana.............................................1848 ...054...054 Flunkeiana.............................................1857 ...184...184 Flunkeiana Rustica ....................................1857 ...024...024 Flycatcher, The .......................................1852 ...064...064 Fly Fishing ...........................................1855 ...057...057 Fog. The, is so very Thick.............................1855 ...028...028 Folly and Innocence....................................1856 ...140...140 Fortune's Favourite....................................1847 ...100...100 Fortunate Fellows......................................1858 ...231...231 Fortune-Telling, a Scene of Domestic Interest .........1858 ...070...070 Four-in-Hand Mania, The................................1856 ...226...226 Fox Hunting in a Fog...................................1856 ...223...223 Fraternity ............................................1859 ...128...128 French as it is Spoken.................................1856 ...245...245 Friendly Badinage......................................1856 ...217...217 Friendly Mount, A .....................................1857 ...061...061 Friendly Sympathy .....................................1858 ...250...250 From the Mining Districts .............................1855 ...135...135 Frozen-out Fox Hunter, The ............................1861 ...078...078 Frozen-out Fox Hunters.................................1854 ...031...031 Frugal Marriage Question, The..........................1858 ...088...088 Fumigation.............................................1855 ...211...211 Generous Offer, A......................................1857 ...162...162 Glorious News for the Boys.............................1859 ...035...035 Going to Church-Scarborough............................185S ...197...197 Good Catch, A..........................................1856 ...245...245 Going to the Ball-the Finishing Touch..................1859 ...235...235 Going Out of Town .....................................1858 ...191...191 Going to the Park......................................1859 ...263...263 Going to a Party ......................................1846 ...056...056 Golden Rule, A.........................................1846 ...107...107 Good Cheer ............................................184S ...007...007 Good Liver, A .........................................1857 ...152...152 Good News .............................................1847 ...335...335 Good News, Real Sentiment .............................1854 ...047...047 Good Old Comic Clown ..................................1860 ...038...038 Good Security .........................................1853 ...048...048 Grand Charge of Perambulators and Defeat of the Swells.1856 ...234...234 Great Boon, The .......................................1858 ...140...140 Great Boon to the Public...............................1855 ...068...068 Great Plague in Life, A ...............................1859 ...212...212 Great Tobacco Controversy, The ........................1857 ...169...169 Grievance, A...........................................1856 ...119...119 Guy Fawkes' Day........................................1856 ...254...254 Happy Notion, A........................................1858 ...265...265 Happy Notion, A........................................1S59 ...014...014 Hard Case in the Baltic ...............................1856 ...119...119 Haven of Refuge, A.....................................1856 ...209...209 Having a Pair On.......................................1857 ...038...038 Heartless Practical Joke ..............................1858 ...210...210 Hi'Art ................................................1857 ...190...190 Hint to the Authorities, A ............................1846 ...146...146 Hint to the Enterprising, A ...........................1857 ...248...248 Hint to Gentlemen Riding Home after Dinner ............1858 ...221...221 Hint to Mammas, A......................................1856 ...132...132 Hint to Railway Travellers, A .........................1856 ...205...205 Home Amusements .......................................1856 ...013...013 Home Enjoyments .......................................1859 ...013...013 Home for the Holidays .................................1863 ...014...014 Home for the Holidays .................................1859 ...033...033 Horrible Question after a Greenwich Dinner ............1856 ...189...189 Horrid Boy, A .........................................1856 ...261...261 Horrors of War, The ...................................1853 ...062...062 How Disagreeable the Boys are..........................1855 ...027...027 How Jack made the Turk Useful at Balaclava ............1S55 ...117...117 How Troublesome the Boys Are ..........................1847 ...027...027 How Very Embarrassing! ................................1855 ...103...103 Humility...............................................1843 ...250...250 Humours of the Street, The ............................1859 ...001...001 Husband as He Ought to Be, and Not ought to Be, The ...1856 ...105...105 Husband Taming.........................................1859 ...175...175 Ice Harvest, The.......................................1855 ...078...078 If you want a Thing Done, do it Your-self..............1858 ...178...178 to ...180...180 Imitation is the Sincerest Flattery....................1856 ...185...185 Imitation is the Sincerest Flattery....................1858 ...160...160 Impertinent Curiosity .................................1857 ...173...173 Impudence..............................................1844 ...024...024 In a Hurry.............................................1857 ...262...262 In Camp................................................1853 ...173...173 Incident of Camp Life, An..............................1853 ...213...213 Incident in a French Revolution .......................1848 ...092...092 Incident of Travel, An.................................1856 ...084...084 Incident with the O. P. Q. Hounds ....................1857 ...067...067 Incident of Weight, An ................................1856 ...130...130 Incredible ............................................1853 ...049...049 Indiscretion, An ......................................1859 ...202...202 Indolence .............................................1859 ...258...258 Infra dig..............................................1853 ...083...083 Injured Individual, An.................................1S57 ...216...216 Innocent Mirth. The Slide on the Pavement .............1848 ...037...037 In Society ............................................1862 ...015...015 Insulting a Refugee ...................................1842 ...157...157 Interesting Group posed for a Photograph...............1855 ...159...159 Interesting and Valuable Result........................1855 ...159...159 In the Park ...........................................1859 ...068...068 In the Park ...........................................1859 ...131...131 In the Ranks...........................................1853 ...057...057 In the Streets.........................................1857 ...131...131 In the Witching Time of Life...........................1859 ...204...204 Irish Lake Fishing ....................................1860 ...254...254 Irresistible...........................................1857 ...141...141 Is Smoking Injurious?..................................1857 ...090...090 It must be all right ..................................1858 ...199...199 It's the Early Bird that picks up the Worm.............1858 ...224...224 Jack Ashore............................................1854 ...052...052 Jew d'Fsprit ..........................................1855 ...101...101 John Thomas non-plushed ...............................1855 ...095...095 Jolly Game of Snowballing as played in our Square......1860 ...017...017 Jolly old Paterfamilias with some air-balloons.........1865 ...008...008 Jones tries his new Hack...............................1857 ...042...042 Judge by Appearance, A.................................1857 ...253...253 Just like 'em .........................................1858 ...187...187 Juvenile Etymology.....................................1859 ...004...004 Juvenile Party, The....................................1864 ...028...028 Juvenile Party, The. A Great Liberty...................1864 ...017...017 Juvenile Wisdom .......................................1859 ...150...150 Ketchee! Ketchee! .....................................1852 ...110...110 Kindly Offer, A........................................1861 ...034...034 Knights of the EaRth...................................1858 ...208...208 Last Alteration, The ..................................1856 ...200...200 Last Refuge of a Banished Smoker..............,........1855 ...255...255 Latest from Paris .....................................1854 ...051...051 Let us have Japanese Manners and Customs here..........1858 ...084...084 Life in London ........................................1855 ...063...063 Little bit of Sentiment................................1845 ...059...059 Little Dinner at the Crimea Club, A....................1854 ...116...116 Little Dinner at Greenwich.............................1858 ...264...264 Little Ducks ..........................................1856 ...259...259 Little Men.............................................1848 ...012...012 Little Shooting in Ireland, A..........................1862 ...264...264 Little Surprise for Muggins, A ........................1857 ...174...174 Lovers' Quarrel, The ..................................1859 ...176...176 Malapropos.............................................1856 ...185...185 Malicious .............................................1857 ...196...196 Man of Consequence, A .................................1859 ...104...104 Man of Principle, A....................................1854 ...056...056 Man of some Consequence, A.............................1857 ...022...022 Marriage Question, The ................................1859 ...177...177 Married for Money.&mdash;The Honeymoon......................1859<a href="#link082...082 Marry on 800 a-year...................................1859 ...149...149 Master of the Art, A...................................1850 ...199...199 Matter of Opinion......................................1858 ...243...243 May and December ......................................1852 ...101...101 Melancholy...,,........................................1856 ...153...153 Men of Taste...........................................1857 ...250...250 Mermaids' Haunt, The...................................1858 ...267...267 Measure for Measure....................................1844 ...184...184 Merry Christmas, A, and a Happy New Year...............1858 ...011...011 Mind and Matter .......................................1855 ...102...102 Misplaced Intelligence.................................1857 ...209...209 Miss and Mistletoe.....................................1858 ...004...004 Mistletoe Bough, The, In Leap Year Ladies Initiative...1852 ...019...019 Modern Antique, A .....................................1851 ...244...244 Moderation.............................................1859 ...042...042 Momentous Decision, A .................................1853 ...051...051 Monstrous Liberty, A ..................................1856 ...249...249 Monsters of the Pool...................................1858 ...170...170 Moral Influence of Executions..........................1845 ...097...097 Moral Lesson from the Nursery, A.......................1857 ...187...187 More Light.............................................1853 ...057...057 More Novelty...........................................1857 ...134...134 Morning after the Juvenile Paity, The..................1861 ...018...018 Moustache Movement, The................................1853 ...108...108 Moustache Movement, The................................1854 ...054...054 Moustache Movement, The................................1854 ...072...072 Moustache Movement, The................................1857 ...233...233 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Fishing .....................1857 ...041...041 to ...045...045 Mr. Briggs tries his Shooting Pony ....................1851 ...271...271 Mr. Briggs's Horse Taming..............................1858 ...222...222 Mr. Punch at Home......................................1855 ...087...087 Mr. Punch's Advice to Housekeepers.....................1858 ...178...178 ...180...180 Much Above that Sort of Thing..........................1858 ...141...141 Much Too Curious ......................................1863 ...252...252 Nautical Style ........................................1851 ...194...194 Ne Plus(h) Ultra ......................................1854 ...066...066 New Cab Regulation ....................................1850 ...062...062 New Christmas Game for Foxhunters......................1849 ...021...021 New Cook, The..........................................1853 ...066...066 New Fashion, The ......................................1857 ...257...257 New Industry, A .......................................1858 ...257...257 New Purchase, The .....................................1856 ...168...168 New Regulation, The ...................................1853 ...093...093 New Regulation Mess, The...............................1857 ...169...169 New Style, The.........................................1854 ...030...030 New Theatre, The ......................................1858 ...106...106 Never carry your Gloves in your Hat....................1854 ...134...134 Nice Bracing Day at the Seaside, A ....................1856 ...266...266 Nice Oder, A..,........................................1858 ...083...083 Noble Science, The ....................................1858 ...217...217 No Consequence ........................................1855 ...044...044 No! Don't..............................................1855 ...115...115 None but the Brave deserve the Fair....................1858 ...001...001 Nose Comforter, The ...................................1855 ...025...025 Not a Bad Idea for Warm Weather .......................1857 ...163...163 Not a Personal Allusion ...............................1859 ...231...231 Not a Question of Weather..............................1857 ...089...089 Nothing like Forethought ..............................1853 ...115...115 Nothing like Horse Exercise ...........................1858 ...256...256 Nothing to Speak of....................................1856 ...220...220 Notion of Fleasure, A .................................1856 ...201...201 Not very Likely........................................1852 ...255...255 Nursery Four-in-Hand Club, The ........................1864 ...036...036 Object of Attraction, An ..............................1857 ...167...167 Object of Sinccre Pity, An ............................1856 ...149...149 Object of Universal Sympathy, An.......................1856 ...140...140 Obvious................................................1858 ...002...002 Odious Tyranny.........................................1854 ...082...082 Of a Very Studious Turn................................1857 ...012...012 Offended Dignity ......................................1856 ...149...149 Offended Dignity ......................................1857 ...248...248 Oh, Dear! .............................................1855 ...112...112 Oh, Horror! ...........................................1859 ...212...212 Oh, what a Humbug! ....................................1859 ...165...165 Oh, Yes, of Course! ...................................1858 ...174...174 Old Boys...............................................1847 ...159...159 Old Broom-Retiring from Business ......................1853 ...092...092 Old Foxhunter, The.....................................1859 ...152...152 Old Gentleman has a Long Mile, The.....................1858 ...219...219 Old Joe, An ...........................................1855 ...033...033 Old, Old Story, The....................................1858 ...128...128 On Domestic Service ...................................1855 ...115...115 One Way of Looking at It ..............................1853 ...079...079 On the Jetty ..........................................1858 ...186...186 Opera, The.............................................1848 ...037...037 Opera, The.............................................1859 ...125...125 Our Guards-They can Play, and they can Fight Too! .....1854 ...120...120 Our Lazy Contributor ..................................1856 ...190...190 Our Little Friend, Tom, has a Day's Hunting ...........1856 ...244...244 Out of His Element.....................................1855 ...112...112 Out of the Fashion ....................................1857 ...153...153 Oxford Costume ........................................1848 ...102...102 Painful Subject, A......:..............................1856 ...169...169 Patience Rewarded .....................................1857 ...094...094 Patient Heroes ........................................1855 ...117...117 Patronising............................................1859 ...015...015 Peace Conference, A ...................................1856 ...165...165 Perfect Wretch, A......................................1851 ...109...109 Perfectly Dreadful.....................................1856 ...086...086 Performers after a Respectable Funeral.................1850 ...237...237 Photographic Beauties..................................1858 ...144...144 Physical Education ....................................1858 ...142...142 Picnic, The, Overtaken by the Tide ....................1859 ...166...166 Picture of Alimentativeness, A.........................1850 ...093...093 Pig Pen at a Cattle Show, A ...........................1856 ...002...002 Pleasant for "Charles, Dear" ..........................1857 ...148...148 Pleasing Delusion : In re the Round Hats...............1856 ...164...164 Pleasant Holiday Task, A ..............................1859 ...003...003 Pleasant Quarters .....................................1853 ...072...072 Pleasing Prospect .....................................1859 ...145...145 Pleasure of le Sport, The..............................1858 ...252...252 Pleasures of Sport.....................................1849 ...218...218 Pleasmes of Travel ....................................1859 ...196...196 Poetry and Prose ......................................1856 ...265...265 Politeness as in Paris ................................1853 ...160...160 Police wear Beards and Moustaches .....................1854 ...065...065 Poor Muggins...........................................1855 ...049...049 Poser, A...............................................1857 ...166...166 Practical Science .....................................1856 ...202...202 Precocity..............................................1857 ...201...201 Prejudice..............................................1859 ...229...229 Prejudiced Opinion, A..................................1855 ...107...107 Preparations for War ..................................1854 ...114...114 Pretty General Delusion, A.,...........................1854 ...055...055 Pretty Kettle of Fish, A ..............................1851 ...183...183 Pride feels no Pain ...................................1846 ...063...063 Private Opinion........................................1854 ...055...055 Private Opinion........................................1859 ...323...323 Private Theatricals ...................................1857 ...018...018 Professional Dignity ..................................1858 ...138...138 Prudent Resolve .......................................1855 ...091...091 Punch, F. M., Sympathises with Italian Organ-grinder...1859 ...224...224 Putting a good Face on it .............................1857 ...024...024 Quadrille in Hot Weather, The..........................1856 ...174...174 Queen of thc'May.......................................1853 ...109...109 Quid pro Quo, A .......................................1859 ...200...200 Quiet Look at the Country, A...........................1859 ...163...163 Quite a Cheap Trip ....................................1858 ...195...195 Quite an Exquisite.....................................1854 ...054...054 Quite a New Sensation..................................1856 ...268...268 Quite a Nice Party ....................................1860 ...032...032 Quite a Seductive Son of Mars .........................1854 ...196...196 Quite Ridiculous ......................................1853 ...101...101 Race for a Bathing-machine, The........................1858 ...228...228 Railway Collusion......................................1859 ...091...091 Rather Alarming .......................................1846 ...043...043 Rather Deep ...........................................1857 ...136...136 Real Soldier, A........................................1856 ...257...257 Real Street Obstructions, The..........................1850 ...076...076 Real Use of the Bear-skin Cap, The ....................1854 ...078...078 Recreations in Natural History ........................1848 ...085...085 Remarkable Case of Table-talking.......................1854 ...226...226 Remarkable Occurrence .................................1857 ...153...153 Repelling Foreign Invasion.............................1858 ...133...133 Result of Allowing Ladies to Witness Horse-taming......1858 ...175...175 Retirement.............................................1851 ...234...234 Return from a Suburban Party ..........................1862 ... 40 Returning from the Derby ..............................1857 ...232...232 Review, The............................................1847 ...044...044 Right Men in the Right Place, The .....................1858 ...063...063 Rival Jockejs..........................................1859 ...137...137 River Frolics..........................................1858 ...223...223 Road, The..............................................1859 ...050...050 Road, The..............................................1859 ...191...191 Round Hat, The ........................................1855 ...132...132 Round Hat Again, The ..................................1856 ...164...164 Royal Knickerbocker Archers, The ......................1859 ...248...248 Rustic Pleasantry......................................1858 ...251...251 Same Old Game .........................................1859 ...039...039 1853 ...173...173 Scene-A Club...........................................1857 ...086...086 Scene at a Railway Station, A .........................1856 ...147...147 Seenc-Drawing-Room ....................................1855 ...059...059 Scene-Greenwich .......................................1857 ...203...203 Scene on Board II.M.S..................................1859 ...211...211 Scholastic ............................................1849 ...109...109 Science Students ......................................1858 ...242...242 Seaside Circulating Library, The ......................1847 ...046...046 Seaside Dialogue, A....................................1856 ...205...205 Self-Examination ......................................1856 ...233...233 Sensible Riding Costume for Warm Weather...............1857 ...198...198 Serious Accident During the Frost......................1861 ...032...032 Serious Thing for Brown ...............................1858 ...192...192 Servantgalism..........................................1857 ...066...066 Servantgalism..........................................1853 ...095...095 Servantgalism .........................................1857 ...249...249 Servantgalism and Fineladyism .........................1858 ...156...156 Serve him Right .......................................1859 ...142...142 Sharp's the Word.......................................1854 ...118...118 Shocking Result of wearing India rubber Goloshes.......1856 ...209...209 Shuttlecock Nuisance, The..............................1857 ...090...090 Sighing for the Sunny South ...........................1847 ...107...107 Sisterly Love..........................................1859 ...205...205 Six of One and half-a-dozen of the Other...............1856 ...227...227 Skeleton in the Cupboard, The .........................1857 ...249...249 Sketch at a Railway Station ...........................1858 ...190...190 Sketch during the Recent Gale, A.......................1856 ...176...176 Sketch from the Stand al Scarboro', A..................1856 ...158...158 Slang .................................................1848 ...061...061 Snow, The..............................................1847 ...004...004 Snowed up .............................................1858 ...151...151 Solicitude ............................................1856 ...260...260 Something like a Horse-Tamer ..........................1858 ...238...238 Something like Sport ..................................1854 ...061...061 Something the Matter with the Kitchen Boiler...........1854 ...070...070 Spacious Accommodation.................................1856 ...239...239 Specimen of Pluck, A ..................................1859 ...242...242 Sporting Intelligence .................................1859 ...268...268 Stage Fright ..........................................1857 ...038...038 Startling Fact.........................................1855 ...102...102 Startling Novelty in Shirts, A.........................1853 ...145...145 Street Acrobat Nuisance................................1856 ...143...143 Strong-backed Car, A. Scene, Ireland...................1859 ...167...167 Stumped Out............................................1856 ...162...162 Subject for Sympathy, A................................1858 ...259...259 Suburban Delight, A ...................................1857 ...235...235 Sunday at the Club ....................................1855 ...214...214 Sunday at the Roadside Inn ............................1855 ...215...215 Superior Animal, The ..................................1857 ...081...081 Swimmers, The..........................................1857 ...244...244 Sympathy ..............................................1855 ...102...102 Symptoms of Hard Reading ..............................1859 ...333...333 Symptoms of Masquerading...............................1846 ...036...036 Syien, A...............................................1858 ...270...270 Table Turning Experiment at Greenwich .................1854 ...247...247 Taking First Place ....................................1858 ...230...230 Taking it Easy ........................................1859 ...133...133 Taste .................................................1853 ...157...157 Tender Point, A .......................................1859 ...161...161 Terrible Proposition...................................1855 ...063...063 Terrific Accident .....................................1857 ...177...177 Thank Goodness, Fly-fishing has Begun..................1857 ...240...240 Thaw and the Street, The....................,..........1861 ...035...035 Theatre of War, The ...................................1854 ...034...034 Those Boys Again.......................................1859 ...081...081 Those Horrid Boys .....................................1855 ...089...089 Thrilling Domestic Incident ...........................1856 ...220...220 Throwing Stones through Ice............................1848 ...018...018 Tickled with a Straw ..................................1859 ...173...173 Tom Noddy's, Mr., First day with the Hounds........... 1855 ...071...071 ...073...073 ...075...075<a href="#link077...077 ...098...098 ...099...099 Tom Noddy, Adventures of Mr............................1857 ...172...172 Tom Noddy determines to have a Day's Hunting...........1856 ...244...244 Too Bad................................................1858 ...033...033 Too Bad! ..............................................1857 ...113...113 Too Bad, by Jove.......................................1856 ...210...210 Too Much of a Good Thing...............................1857 ...235...235 Touching ..............................................1857 ...226...226 Touching ..............................................1858 ...184...184 Touching Appeal .......................................1858 ...206...206 Training School for Ladies' about to Appear at Court...1857 ...121...121 ...022...022<a href="#link023...023 ...024...024 Triumph of Mind over Matter............................1855 ...097...097 Trump Card(igan), A ...................................1854 ...118...118 Trying Thing for Tootles, A ...........................1858 ...194...194 Unabashed..............................................1855 ...083...083 Unconscious Satire ....................................1850 ...095...095 Unconscious Victim, An ................................1857 ...260...260 Under the Mistletoe....................................1857 ...104...104 Under the Mistletoe....................................1864 ...005...005 Undesigned Coincidence, An ............................1859 ...263...263 Undignified Reminder...................................1861 ...030...030 Unexpected Always Happens, The ........................1857 ...199...199 Unfitness of Things, The...............................1856 ...147...147 Uniform Stupidity......................................1854 ...118...118 Uninviting Prospect, An................................1856 ...223...223 Unlucky this Time .....................................1855 ...135...135 Unwelcome Visitor, An .................................1845 ...053...053 Unwelcome Visitor, An .................................1856 ...150...150 Urgent.................................................1855 ...018...018 Vagaries of Fashion ...................................1855 ...089...089 Vain Shadow, A ........................................1844 ...101...101 Valentine, The ........................................1849 ...157...157 Valentine's Day........................................1854 ...076...076 Varieties in Horse-Taming .............................1858 ...129...129 Very Alarming, Indeed .................................1846 ...159 Very Artful Contrivance................................1857 ...261...261 Very Attentive ........................................1858 ... 21? Very Considerate ......................................1858 ...085...085 Very Friendly .........................................1857 ...050...050 Very Green-eyed Monster, A.............................1858 ...029...029 Very Large Notions.....................................1858 ...149...149 Very Natural Mistake, A................................1856 ...253...253 Very Odd ..............................................1853 ...161...161 Very Old Friend, A.....................................1850 ...079...079 Very Particular Party, A...............................1858 ...059...059 Very Rude, Indeed .....................................1858... 104 Very Shocking Boy, Indeed, A ..........................1857 ...131...131 Very Thing, The .......................................1857 ...218...218 Victim of Fashion, A ..................................1856 ...113...113 Vision of the Fast, A .................................1846 ...340...340 Visit to a Dog Fancier, A .............................1846 ...096...096 Vive le Sport 1 .......................................1859 ...230...230 Waiting for the Carriage ..............................1853 ...110...110 Wake in the Mining Districts, A .......................1853 ...225...225 Wanting in Reverence...................................1852 ...100...100 Warblers under Water...................................1858 ... 1ll Water Abstainer, A.....................................1858 ...187...187 Weather and the Streets, The...........................1861 ...022...022 Weather in the Parks, The..............................1854 ...020...020 Weighty Matter, A .....................................1856 ...151...151 Well Intended, No Doubt ...............................1852 ...114...114 Well Out of It ........................................1849 ...065...065 Well they may Call This a Health-giving Pursuit........1855 ...069...069 We'll Serve the Shop ..................................1857 ...155...155 Wet Day at the Sea Side, A ............................1858 ...242...242 What Indeed? ..........................................1855 ...097...097 What a Shame!..........................................1853 ...058...058 What a Shame!..........................................1864 ...029...029 What a Terrible Turk!..................................1856 ...024...024 What must be the Next Fashion in Bonnets ..............1854 ...055...055 Where are the Police?..................................1855 ...139...139 Where There's a Will There's a Way.....................1859 ...094...094 Whilst a Respectable Female takes care of the House....1857 ...165...165 Wholesome Conclusion, A ...............................1858 ...158...158 Wholesome Feast........................................1857 ...012...012 Who will Serve the Country?............................1857 ...154...154 Who wouldn't be a Riding Master?.......................1852 ...060...060 Why not? ..............................................1853 ...145...145 Will and the Way, The .................................1856 ...229...229 Winter in the Suburbs..................................1854 ...027...027 Wonderful Intelligent Child ...........................1857 ...213...213 Working against Time...................................1852 ...310...310 Yeilding to Temptation.................................1857 ...141...141 Young Sportsman, A ....................................1859 ...195...195 Youthful Sage, A ......................................1857 ...170...170 
44663	----	JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER Volume Three (of Three) FROM THE COLLECTION OF "MR. PUNCH" LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 1887 Transcriber's Note: The only text in this file is that drawn in the images. This is not easily read unless viewing the "medium size" and "original size" available by link under each image. INDEX Abuse of the Aspirate, The ............................1863...021...021 Accepting a Situation .................................1856...040...040 Across Country.........................................1864...181...181 Advice Gratis .........................................1863...187...187 After Dundreary .......................................1862...201...201 After Supper- Strange Admission........................1861...198...198 All the Difference.....................................1863...199...199 Ambition ..............................................1863...039...039 An Afflicted One ......................................1853...214...214 An Idea for a Wet Day .................................1863...215...215 An Interesting Question ...............................1859...204...204 An Old Friend .........................................1853...257...257 Ancient Britons, The ..................................1861...001...001 Another Pretty Little Americanism .....................1864...167...167 Anxious Inquirers .....................................1863...143...143 Anxious to Preserve our Figure, take a Turkish Bath....1861...212...212 Aquatics - When the Bees are Swarming .................1858...059...059 Aristocratic Hotel Company, The........................1863...041...041 ...043...043...043...043...044...044 Art Treasures ..... ...................................1860...119...119 At a Rifle Competee-tion in the North..................1863...202...202 At Dieppe .............................................1862...118...118 Attempted Fraud on the Railway ........................1863...241...241 Awful Apparition ......................................1861...171...171 Awful Tale of an Eel ..................................1858...208...208 Awkward for Papa ......................................1863...022...022 Badly Hit During the Recent Engagement with the Guards.1863...236...236 Ball, The .............................................1862...191...191 Battue, The ...........................................1862...125...125 Beach, The - A Sketch for Warm Weather.................1862...161...161 ...162...162...163...163...164...164 Bear Baiting ..........................................1862...211...211 Benevolence ...........................................1860...061...061 Beware of Artillery Whiskers...........................1861...011...011 Billiards..............................................1864...169...169 Bit of Household Stuff, A .............................1862...238...238 Biter Bit, The ........................................1864...243...243 Black Diamond, The - The Real Mountain of Light........1851...246...246 Bores of the Beach, The ...............................1860...101...101 Bouncer, A.............................................1860...094...094 Board and Lodging .....................................1864...064...064 Bois de Boulogne-For Cavaliers only....................1863...118...118 Box of Books from London, The .........................1856...233...233 Breaking the Bye-Laws .................................1852...220...220 Brighton Jewels........................................1860...237...237 Brilliant Suggestion, A, Presented gratis to the Horse.1858...261...261 Broken Country, A .....................................1864...234...234 Brook Jump, The........................................1863...145...145 By the Fast Train .....................................1861...115...115 By your Leave .........................................1859...049...049 Cabman Guide, The .....................................1801...052...052 Canine.................................................1863...048...048 Capillary Attractions .................................1858...035...035 Capital Finish, A......................................1860...156...156 Carte de Visite, The ..................................1862...157...157 Cause and Effect ......................................1864.... 057 Caution to the Unwary, A ..............................1859...014...014 Chaff .................................................1862...103...103 Chamber Practice.......................................1860...129...129 Chance for Jeames, A ..................................1860...053...053 Channel Passage, The...................................1862...206...206 Chip of the Old Block, A...............................1862...190...190 Christening of Jones's First, The .....................1803...142...142 Clerical Beard Movement, The ..........................1861...049...049 Cockney at Dieppe, A...................................1851...254...254 Coincidence, A.........................................1860...032...032 Collar Mania, The .....................................1854...064...064 Comfortable Quarters ..................................1859...152...152 Comforter, A...........................................1862...019...019 Complimentary..........................................1864...225...225 Complimentary to Paterfamilias.........................1860...016...016 Confirmed Bachelor.....................................1861...159...159 Connoisseur, A ........................................1859...135...135 Considerate Attention .................................1860...026...026 Consolation ...........................................1859...094...094 Consolation ...........................................1861...130...130 Consoling from Consols ................................1862...096...096 Consummation devoutly to be wished, A..................1862...021...021 Contemplative Man's Recreation, The....................1860...137...137 Contented Mind, A .....................................1860...138...138 Cook's Morning Service, The............................1863...220...220 Costermonger as he is, and as he might be, The ........1863...167...167 Country Races-Amateur Professionals....................1855...215...215 Courtesies of Travel, The..............................1859...123...123 Cricket-The Pride of the Village.......................1863...058...058 Crinoline for Domestic use ............................1862...132...132 Crinoline for Domestic use ............................1862...235...235 Croquet ...............................................1863...106...106 Crossing-Sweeper Nuisance, The ........................1856...008...008 Cruel .................................................1861...004...004 Cruel Joke at a Fete...................................1859...193...193 Cub-Hunting............................................1862...203...203 Curious Echo at a Railway Station......................1861...127...127 Curious effect of Relaxing Air.........................1849...104...104 Dabbling...............................................1861...024...024 Darlings, The, see the 38th Volunteers Drilled ........1861...002...002 Day at Biarritz, A.....................................1863...244...244 ...245...245 Day with the Stag, A ..................................1856...252...252 Day's Amusement, A ....................................1864...203...203 Day's Pleasure, A..... ................................1860...025...025 Deal, A ...............................................1863...152...152 Debate on the New Ministry ............................1858...088...088 Decidedly .............................................1860...166...166 De Gustibus, &amp;c........................................1858...258...258 Delicate Hint, A ......................................1863...018...018 Dclicious..............................................1862...136...136 Difference in Opinion, A...............................1863...012...012 Difficult Task, A .....................................1850...127...127 Dignity and Impudence .................................1861...060...060 Dignity and Impudence .................................1858...150...150 Dignity of Age, The....................................1856...015...015 Diner à la Russe ......................................1862...126...126 Dining under Difficulties..............................1861...008...008 Dinner-Bell, The ......................................1849...259...259 Dip in French Waters, A................................1862...063...063 Dissenters in the University...........................1855...127...127 District Telegraph, The ...............................1863...023...023 Disturbed Imagination, A ..............................1859...230...230 Diving Belles..........................................1862...118...118 Dog-days, The .........................................1864...218...218 Doing a little Business ...............................1864...247...247 Doosed aggravating for Cornet Hinders..................1863...055...055 Doubtful Compliment, A.................................1862...126...126 Dramatic...............................................1863...231...231 Drawing Room, A .......................................1858...127...127 Drawing Room, The .....................................1863...014...014 Dried Up ..............................................1859...086...086 Duet under Difficulties, A ............................1863...176...176 Dust Ilo! The Long Dress Nuisance......................1863...184...184 Effect of Sixpence a Mile..............................1857...157...157 Effect of Stopping the Grog ...........................1849...154...154 Effects of the "Weather on a Sensitive Plant ..........1861...172...172 Emphatic ..............................................1861...004...004 End of a Friend of the Family .........................1862...116...116 Engaged Ones, The .....................................1847...168...168 English Darlings reflected in a French Mirror..........1862...098...098 English Gold Field, An ................................1854...036...036 English Soldiers according to French Notions ..........1860...098...098 Escort, An.............................................1862...148...148 Excess of Cleanliness, An .............................1860...023...023 Exhausted Student, The ................................1862...065...065 Express ...............................................1864...066...066 Experiment on a Vile Body, An..........................1859...029...029 Extravagance...........................................1858...029...029 Facetious Inference, A ................................1861...007...007 Fact, A ...............................................1860...018...018 Fact, A ...............................................1860...153...153 False Alarm, surely! .................................1861...052...052 Family Box at the Theatre, A...........................1857...257...257 Fancy Fair, The .......................................1864...214...214 Fancy Scene, A-Winning the Gloves......................1860...224...224 Fancy Sketch...........................................1860...033...033 Farewell...............................................1856...264...264 Fashion for next Summer, The ..........................1860...139...139 Fashions in Hair ......................................1862...107...107 Fatuous Fashion, A ....................................1858...219...219 Fellow Martyrs ........................................1864...193...193 Feminine Rivalry ......................................1864...175...175 Financial Difficulty, A................................1861...013...013 Financial Question, The ...............................1862...259...259 Fine Polish, A ........................................1852...096...096 First Beginnings ......................................1863...194...194 First Day of the Season ...............................1861...035...035 First of September ....................................1852...070...070 Fitting Hospitality ...................................1863...176...176 Flagrant Attempt, A....................................1862...177...177 Flattering Proposal ...................................1860...155...155 Flunkeiana.............................................1848...104...104 Flunkeiana.............................................1864...205...205 Flunkey in Trouble, A..................................1864...199...199 Fly-Fishing ...........................................1863...170...170 Fond Delusion .........................................1860...131...131 Force of Habit ........................................1864...146...146 Force of Habit (for Family People only)................1861...203...203 Foreign Infliction, A .................................1859...222...222 For-rad,-For-rad-Away! ................................1861...209...209 Freaks of a Pet Dog....................................1852...210...210 Freshener on the Downs, A..............................1857...120...120 Friendly Prescription .................................1856...021...021 Frivolity..............................................1858...099...099 Frolic Home after a Blank Day, A ......................1859...196...196 Furniture Removal Agency, A ...........................1860...214...214 Gale, The..............................................1862...073...073 Garotte Effect, A......................................1863...119...119 Generous Offer ............. ..........................1860...045...045 Gent at Cost Price, A .................................1856...155...155 Geographical Joke, A ..................................1855...143...143 Going North ...........................................1862...081...081 Going Out of Town .....................................1860...016...016 Going through the Alphabet ............................1860...306...306 Going to Court ........................................1863...344...344 Going to Cover.........................................1861...324...324 Gold Field in the "Diggins," A.........................1854...037...037 Gone Away! ............................................1861...030...030 Good Blacking .........................................1853...102...102 Gordian Knot for Robinson, A ..........................1862...017...017 Grand National Rose Show...............................1858...232...232 Great Bonnet Question, The ............................1857...254...254 Great Exhibition ......................................1862...243...243 Great Whisker Cutting Movement, The ...................1861...116...116 Grievance, A...........................................1863...141...141 Ground Swell, A .......................................1S61...028...028 Groundless Alarm.......................................1861...170...170 Groundless Alarm.......................................1862...142...142 Guardian of the Field, The.............................1855...131...131 Harry takes bis Cousins to see the Hounds Meet.........1862...145...145 Haymarket and Thereabout, The..........................1862...088...088 Healthy and Amusing Game ..............................1860...045...045 Held in Cheek .........................................1858...033...033 Helping Him On ........................................1861...061...061 Hero Worship ..........................................1850...221...221 Hint to the Engaged Ones of England, A.................1859...239...239 Hint to Travellers.....................................1860...048...048 History-The Ancient Britons ...........................1861...001...001 Holidays at Home.......................................1860...183...183 Hopeful Prospect, A....................................1863...010...010 Horrid Girl............................................1861...144...144 Horse Dealer's Logic, A ...............................1863...140...140 Hot Chestnut, A, is very Good after Dinner.............1862...217...217 Household Economy......................................1861...138...138 How Not to Do It.......................................1863...242...242 How to Bother Cabby....................................1863...213...213 How to Clear a Carriage for a Cigar ...................1864...182...182 How to Make a Watering Place Pleasant..................1861...024...024 How Would it be Without Crinoline? ....................1864...197...197 Humour of the Streets, The ............................1860...090...090 Humour of the Streets, The ............................1861...139...139 Hunting from Town......................................1862...147...147 Hurrah! ...............................................1860...263...263 Hush! Hush! .........................................1863...122...122 Hygienic Pleasure, A ..................................1863...200...200 Idle Servant, The .....................................1863...099...099 Immense Treat for the Party Concerned..................186l...102...102 Important Matter ......................................1860...149...149 Impostor, An...........................................1863...150...150 Improving the Time.....................................1857...341...341 Impudence .............................................1849...230...230 In Barracks............................................1860...094...094 Incident of Travel, An.................................1859...088...088 Incident of Travel, An.................................1864...158...158 Influence of the Railway on the Rhine..................1864...173...173 In Good Society........................................1851...249...249 Injured Brother, An....................................1861...015...015 In Search of Excitement ...............................1850...246...246 "In the Bay of Biscay, O!" ................ ...........1862...115...115 Innocent Delusions ....................................1863...139...139 Inquiring Mind, An.....................................1861...045...045 In Search of a Victim .................................1860...011...011 In State ..............................................1844...146...146 In the Volunteers .....................................1862...025...025 Invalid, The ..........................................1860...103...103 Irresistible ..........................................1860...069...069 It is Safer to go with your Animal.....................1862...147...147 John Bull à la Française...............................1855...262...262 John Tomkins and'Arry Bloater .........................1862...068...068 Jolly Anglers..........................................1864...125...125 Jolly Game, A .........................................1857...221...221 Jumping to a Conclusion ...............................1864...206...206 Junior Counsel, A........ .............................1848...257...257 Knowing Animal, A .....................................1857...187...187 Ladies' Lap Dog Show, The..............................1862...254...254 Lady Audley's Secret ..................................1863...009...009 La Mode................................................1860...354...354 La Mode-The Zouave Jacket .............................1860...056...056 Last Day at the Seaside, The-Packing Up ...............1861...027...027 Last New Thing in Cloaks, The..........................1859...107...107 Last Sweet Thing in Hats, The..........................1859...028...028 Late from the School-room..............................1860...012...012 Latest Fashion, The....................................1857...111...111 Latest Fast Thing, The ................................1863...039...039 Latest Improvement, The ...............................1856...069...069 Latest from Abroad-Powder and all the Rest of it.......1862...048...048 Latest Style, The .....................................1856...106...106 Legal Solfeggio, The ..................................1846...116...116 Le Sport...............................................1862...256...256 Lesson, The ...........................................1862...002...002 Lesson in French, A...V................................1855...086...086 Like unto Like ........................................1862...211...211 Likely Bait, A ........................................1860...178...178 Likely Case, A.........................................1855...050...050 Linguist, The..........................................1863...065...065 Little Bit of Yorkshire, A ............................1864...212...212 Little Family Breeze, A ...............................1864...173...173 Little Farce at a Railway Station, A...................1859...063...063 Little Railway Drama, A................................1863...186...186 Little Rowlands* Macassar Wanted Somewhere, A .........1863...099...099 Little Scene at Brussels, A ...........................1864...209...209 Little Smoke-Jack, A ..................................1863...131...131 London Cream ..........................................1864...146...146 London Highlanders.....................................1861...200...200 Looking at it Pleasantly ..............................1864...123...123 "Love's Course Never Did" You Know.....................1864...205...205 Loving Cup, A..........................................1858...104...104 Lowest Depth, The......................................1864...211...211 Lucid Explanation, A ..................................1852...063...063 Making it Intelligible.................................1864...202...202 Making the Best of It .................................1858...007...007 Malvern Hills, The ....................................1864...262...262 Man of Discrimination, A ..............................1863...188...188 Man of Ideas, A .......................................1861...174...174 Man's Rooms at the Temple, A...........................1863...106...106 Marriage Question, The ................................1858...047...047 Master and Man-A Pretty State of Things................1861...064...064 Medium, A..............................................1861...079...079 Mere Trifle, A ........................................1862...134...134 Mermaid, A ............................................1854...058...058 Militia Man, A.........................................1854...076...076 Mistaking a Title .....................................1860...065...065 Moral of it, The ......................................1862...235...235 Morning Ride, The .....................................1863...248...248 Mossoo Learning to Swim ...............................1862...118...118 Most Flattering........................................1861...216...216 Most Offensive ........................................1859...021...021 Mr, Briggs's Adventuresin the Highlands................1861...081...081 ...083...083...085...085...087...087...089...089...091...091...093...093...095...095...097...097 Mr. Briggs's Horse Taming Experiences..................1863...258...258 ...261...261 Mrs. J. has the Best of It ............................1860...055...055 Muscular Education - The Private Tutor ................1860...110...110 Natural Impatience.....................................1860...046...046 Nature when Unadorned, &amp;c..............................1861...054...054 New Leathers, too!.....................................1861...031...031 NeW Ride, The, Frightful Scene in Kensington Gardens...1860...247...247 New School, The........................................1862...136...136 Nicc Game for Two or More, A ..........................1861...110...110 Nice Little Dinner, The ...............................1853...063...063 Nightmare, A ..........................................1862...250...250 No Doubt of It.........................................1860...073...073 Not a bad Judge .......................................1859...101...101 Not a doubtful Race....................................1845...250...250 Nothing like doing it Thoroughly ......................1864...179...179 Nothing Eke Mountain Air ..............................1860...047...047 Not so bad as he seems ................................1860...359...359 Not so Easy ...........................................1853...160...160 Not such a bad Thing in a Shower ......................1860...057...057 Novel Suggestion ......................................1863...078...078 Now I'm Papa ..........................................1860...108...108 No. 999, Government Transport .........................1855...114...114 Object of Attraction, An ..............................1860...189...189 Ocular Demonstration ..................................1857...157...157 Office Incident, An ...................................1863...124...124 Old School ............................................1862...023...023 On Duty ...............................................1844...134...134 Oh, how Jolly!.........................................1859...101...101 Oh, that I were in that Balcony! ......................1864...180...180 On a Parisian Boulevard................................1861...109...109 One Night from Home....................................1861...006...006 One of the Right Sort..................................1860...034...034 One-sided View, A .....................................1846...260...260 On the Racecourse .....................................1852...109...109 On the Sands...........................................1860...074...074 On the Way to Parade...................................1860...068...068 Opportunity, An .......................................1862...128...128 Opposite Opinions .....................................1859...056...056 Order we hope to see issued, An .......................1861...156...156 Organ Grinding Nuisance, The ..........................1864...255...255 Our Foreign Visitors ..................................1861...156...156 Our Indolent Young Man ................................1859...079...079 Our National Defences .................................1860...102...102 Our Volunteers.........................................1860...019...019 Out of his Element ....................................1862...256...256 Outrage upon a Gallant Tnrk............................1856...253...253 Oysters ...............................................1864...140...140 Painful Subject, A ....................................1861...121...121 Partridge Shooting ....................................1860...097...097 Partridge Shooting ....................................1863...223...223 Persuasive ............................................1863...060...060 Pet-Love...............................................1862...149...149 Philosophy in Sport....................................1859...171...171 Photograph, The .......................................1861...132...132 Pious Public-House, The................................1855...112...112 Pitiable Objects ......................................1862...053...053 Pheasant Shooting, A Warm Corner.......................1858...117...117 Pleasant...............................................1863...148...148 Tleasant Intelligence .................................1863...076...076 Pleasant Prospect, A ..................................1864...253...253 Pleasures of the Country, The..........................1863...191...191 Pleasures of the Sea, The..............................1857...241...241 Pleasures of Vegetarianism ............................1852...086...086 Pluck! ...............................................1863...104...104 Polite Attention ......................................1861...022...022 Political Prospects ...................................1859...020...020 Poor Cousin Charles ...................................1864...190...190 Poor Fellow ...........................................1863...108...108 Poor Little Fellow ....................................1861...033...033 Portrait, The,-Finishing Touch to the Dress ...........1862...074...074 Portrait of a certain Student who is Reading so hard...1861...026...026 Poser, A...............................................1861...003...003 Posing a Customer .....................................1861...084...084 Positive Fact, of Course ..............................1862...013...013 Practising for a Match........ ........................1862...174...174 Practising on a Patient................................1858...124...124 Preliminary Canter, A..................................1862...168...168 Prepared for Garottcrs.................................1863...192...192 Prevention is Better than Cure ........................1863...198...198 Pretty Exhibition near Bromplon, A.....................1862...189...189 Private Theatricals-The Mouslaches.....................1860...066...066 Probability, A&mdash;"Hold your Zebra, Sir?" ...............1858...070...070 Problem for Young Ladies, A............................1862...032...032 Professional ..........................................1859...005...005 Profligate Pastrycook's, The ..........................1855...113...113 Progress of Civilization...............................1854...178...178 Proper Precaution, A ..................................1862...031...031 Prudence...............................................1862...121...121 Prudential Assurance ..................................1859...075...075 Putting his Foot in it ................................1864...225...225 Putting it Blandly.....................................1863...109...109 Putting Principle into Practice .......................1861...058...058 Quiet Rebuke, A .......................................1864...137...137 Quip Modest, The.......................................1862...122...122 Quite Exhausted .......................................1856...140...140 Race for a Fare, A ....................................1859...107...107 Raillery ..............................................1864...207...207 Railway Grievance .....................................1864...233...233 Railway Morals.........................................1864...141...141 Rather a Kitcheny way of Putting it ...................1863...143...143 Rather a Knowing Thing in Nets ........................1860...046...046 Rather Keen ...........................................1859...195...195 Rather 'Ossy............... ...........................1863...223...223 Rather Vulgar, but Perfectly True......................1862...051...051 Ready when Wanted, or Militia Volunteers...............1854...228...228 ...229...229 Real Enjoyment ........................................1861...076...076 Reai Independence .....................................1863...201...201 Real Tragedy ..........................................1864...134...134 Real Treasure, A ......................................1859...001...001 Recreation for the Horse Guards .......................1851...240...240 Relaxation.............................................1861...023...023 Repose ................................................1862...077...077 Resources of the Establishment ........................1860...050...050 Retaliation............................................1864...233...233 Return from the Races-Bois de Boulogne ................1864...232...232 Riding-hat Question, The ..............................1861...100...100 Rival Barrels, The ....................................1854...241...241 Sagacious Cabby, A ....................................1862...227...227 Salmon Fishing.........................................1863...133...133 Scarborough, At .......................................1862...227...227 Scene-A Certain gay Watering Place.....................1859...069...069 Scene at Sandbath .....................................1861...080...080 Sccne in a Modern Studio ..............................1856...029...029 Sccne on a Bridge at Paris ............................1863...226...226 Scene-The Row..........................................1863...217...217 School for Old Gentlemen, A............................1858...193...193 Sea-fishing ........................ ..................1863...005...005 Sea-side Studies.......................................1860...025...025 Sea-side Subject, A, Party in Search of Repose ........1862...054...054 Secular Pursuit, A..... ...............................1857...092...092 Self Importance........................................1861...011...011 Sensation Ball, The ...................................1862...088...088 Sensation Novel, The ..................................1864...194...194 Serious Complaint, A ..................................1855...155...155 Serious Drawback, A ...................................1861...009...009 Scrvantgalisra, No. XIII...............................1863...010...010 Servantgalism, No. XIV.................................1860...128...128 Servantgalism, No. XV..................................1864...169...169 Servantgalism, &amp;c., No. XVI............................1863...220...220 Servantgalism in Australia-A Fact .....................1864...221...221 Severe.................................................1860...012...012 Serving Him Out .......................................1862...084...084 Shocking Incident in Real Life ........................1864...251...251 Shocking Young Lady Indeed, A .........................1860...067...067 Shoeburyncss...........................................1864...251...251 Short Cut through the Wood, A..........................1862...117...117 Sign of Progress, A ...................................1864...131...131 Singular Optical Delusion .............................1850...135...135 Sketch at a Steeple Chacc, A...........................1863...145...145 Sketch from a Study Window.............................1863...078...078 Sketch in St. James's Street, A .......................1860...007...007 Sketch on the Downs, A.................................1861...111...111 Sketch on the Sea-Coast during the Gale................1862...105...105 Sketches at Brighton ..................................1802...237...237 Sketching Master, The..................................1858...040...040 Slow Game, A ..........................................1863...105...105 Snooks has Joined a Rifle Corps .......................1861...192...192 Soap-Bubbles...........................................1857...186...186 Social Treadmill, The,&mdash;The Wedding Breakfast..........1857...063...063 Some more Foreign Visitors ............................1862...182...182 Something in that......................................1856...133...133 Something like a Description...........................1860...030...030 Something like an Inducement ..........................1860...184...184 Soothing Explanation ..................................1860...050...050 Sou'-Wester in a Sea-side Lodging-House, A ............1863...066...066 Special Pleader, A ....................................1861...143...143 Spirit-Rapping ........................................1860...232...232 Spirit Drawing by our own Medium, A....................1860...236...236 Spoon-shaped Bonnet, The...............................1860...066...066 Sport (?)Fowl Shooting ................................1860...347...347 Sporting Intelligence .................................1859...097...097 Sportive Elements, The ................................1860...246...246 Spread of the Volunteer Movement-Scene, the Schoolroom.1860...074...074 Startling Result.......................................1857...152...152 Steeple-Chacc Study, A ................................1860...185...185 Stolen Pleasures are Sweet ............................1863...051...051 Stont Assertion, A ....................................1863...123...123 Street Fight, A .......................................1864...211...211 Study of Crinoline, A .................................1858...216...216 Studies of Crinoline during an Equinoctial Gale .......1863...221...221 Subject for a Picture..................................1861...047...047 Submissive Husband, The ... ...........................1862...233...233 Suburban Flyman, The ..................................1864...207...207 Successful Angling.....................................1849...254...254 Summer Visitors .......................................1855...022...022 Superfluous Advice ....................................1847...213...213 Table d'hote à Paris, A ...............................1864...219...219 Taking it Manfully ....................................1860...195...195 Taking the Risks ......................................1861...120...120 Terrible Threat, A ....................................1862...034...034 The Very Thing ........................................1860...133...133 Those Horrid Boys Again ... ...........................1860...015...015 Tit Bit, A ............................................1861...082...082 To be Pitied ............ .............................1863...181...181 Tolerably Broad Hint, A................................1859...130...130 Toll-Bar Nuisance, The ................................1864...154...154 Too Pad................................................1862...116...116 Too Bad, by Jove Î You Know ...........................1860...053...053 Too Clever by Half ....................................1863...008...008 Towards the Close of the Season........................1856...092...092 Travellers' Luggage....................................1860...020...020 True Tale, A.................... ......................1863...126...126 Truly Delightful ........ .............................1856...077...077 Tu Quoque .............................................1858...226...226 Tu Quoque, A ..........................................1861...009...009 Turning the Tables ; or a Little Sauce for the Gander..1862...108...108 Tyrant, A .............................................1859...058...058 Unexpected Always Happens, The.........................1860...109...109 Unexpected Arrival, An ................................1863...153...153 Unexpected Bliss ......................................1861...008...008 Unexpected Change, An..................................1860...017...017 Unfeeling Husband, An .................................1856...131...131 Unwelcome Pleasantry...................................1861...062...062 Useful and Ornamental .................................1861...149...149 Useful Appliances......................................1862...067...067 Useful at Last.........................................1861...008...008 Valuable Addition to the Aquarium......................1860...075...075 Vaulting Ambition......................................1856...065...065 Very Careful ..........................................1860...158...158 Very Considerate ......................................1864...240...240 Very Cruel Satire .....................................1860...151...151 Very Much Alive .. ....................................1856...177...177 Very Much at Sea.......................................1860...210...210 Very Rude Indeed.......................................1847...053...053 Very Slangy ...........................................1855...144...144 Very Thing, The .......................................1860...183...183 Very Vulgar Subject, A ................................1859...132...132 Victim to Over Exertion, A.............................1859...061...061 Visit to the Studio, A ................................1860...188...188 Vive le Sport Again....................................1862...194...194 Volunteer Review, The ..... ...........................1860...006...006 Vulpecide, The Base Indeed ............................1862...185...185 Waltzing of the Period ................................1861...165...165 Watering-Place Pleasure, A ............................1864...186...186 Weight for Age........... .............................1855...114...114 Well (?) Brought Up....................................1863...076...076 Well Over! Anyhow .....................................1863...100...100 Well! The Boldness of some People......................1861...027...027 Well Timed ............................................1864...135...135 We should Think it Did ................................1860...082...082 What is it?............................................1856...121...121 What Next? ............................................1854...178...178 What our Volunteers Ought Not to Do....................1862...231...231 What's the Matter with Him?............................1859...114...114 What's to be Done in July?.............................1861...020...020 What we could Bear a Good Deal of......................1863...204...204 What we Want to Know...................................1863...250...250 When Doctors Disagree, &amp;c., &amp;c.........................1844...234...234 Which is the Brute?....................................1858...234...234 Who would have Thought it ?............................1860...038...038 Wicket Proceeding, A...................................1863...057...057 Wind S. W., Fresh .....................................1859...018...018 Wire Fence, The .......................................1863...218...218 Word to the Wise, A ...................................1860...003...003 X-Cellent Notion, An ..................................1855...158...158 Yeomanry Service, The..................................1856...062...062 Yes, on Some People ...................................1859...016...016 Yet another Americanism................................1864...179...179 Young England..........................................1862...033...033 Young Northamptonshire.................................1859...151...151 
44801	----	by the Internet Archive FOUR HUNDRED HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS By John Leech With Portrait and Biographical Sketch. 1868 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. John Leech was born in London, on the 29th August, 1817. His father, John Leech, was an Irishman, a man of fine culture, and a good Shakespearean scholar. He was the landlord of the London Coffee House on Ludgate Hill, one of the most important of the city hotels at that time. For a while the father was successful in his vocation, but ultimately, through financial embarrassment, was obliged to give up the hotel. The father was a man of real ability, possessing considerable skill with the pencil, and from him, no doubt, the son inherited his special talent. And, again, on the mother's side there was relationship with the great scholar Richard Bentley, so that on both sides of the house young Leech had considerable advantages so far as mental heredity was concerned. At a very early age the mother observed the extraordinary aptitude for drawing that her boy possessed, and did all in her power to encourage it. When young Leech was only three years old, he was found by the family friend, the great artist, Flaxman, seated on his mother's knee, drawing with much gravity. The sculptor pronounced his sketch to be remarkable, and gave the following advice:--"Do not let him be cramped with lessons in drawing, but let his genius follow its own bent. He will astonish the world." A few years after this, some more of the youthful artist's drawings were shown to the celebrated sculptor, and, after examination, he said--"The boy must be an artist; he will be nothing else or less." At seven, the boy was sent to Charterhouse. This early departure from home was, of course, a sore trial to the fond mother, who was bound up in her child, but, knowing that it was for her son's future welfare, she threw no obstacles in the way of his departure from home. She was, however, resolved that somehow she would see her child frequently. With this object she hired a room in one of the houses commanding a view of the playground, and there frequently she sat behind a blind, happy in getting an occasional glimpse of her boy--sometimes at play, and sometimes strolling about in the grounds with his school mates. During his stay of nine years at Charterhouse, the boy did not distinguish himself in classical studies. Indeed, all that can be said, is that he acquired a thoroughly sound English education. He was, however, liked by everyone at school for his good temper and winning ways. Among his fellow pupils was the famous William Makepeace Thackeray, with whom he formed a warm friendship that lasted throughout life. At sixteen years of age, young Leech left Charterhouse, and, notwithstanding Flaxman's advice that the boy should follow the profession of an artist, his father put him to the medical profession at St. Bartholomew's, under Mr Stanley, the surgeon of the Hospital. After a time he was placed under Mr Whittle, an eccentric practitioner at Hoxton, and subsequently under Dr John Cockle, afterwards physician to the Royal Free Hospital. Throughout his various situations, young Leech become famous among his fellow students and friends for his extremely clever--and, at the same time, always good-natured--caricatures. He was for ever drawing scenes, characters, and incidents in daily life. About this time, young Leech's liking for horses probably received its first development, through his friendship with Mr Charles Adams. Mr Adams was the owner of two horses which it was his delight to drive tandem fashion, and in his excursions Leech was his constant companion. To this circumstance we are, no doubt, partially indebted for many of the clever bits of driving and country road life depicted by the pencil of the artist. At this early period of his career, Leech made numerous life friendships with men who afterwards became distinguished. Notable among these men were Albert Smith and Percival Leigh. At eighteen years of age, Leech published his first work, entitled "Etchings and Sketchings by A. Pen, Esq." It was a small work of four quarto sheets. As he got more and more engrossed in artistic work, the young student seems to have gradually given up his medical studies, and to have resolved to live by his pencil. In course of time he turned his attention to lithography, and, having drawn pictures upon lithographic stones, he has been known to spend many a weary day in carrying such heavy stones from publisher to publisher in search of a buyer. But as his fame increased, the difficulty of getting remunerative employment rapidly diminished. A good deal of Leech's early work, among other things, was in connection with _Bell's Life in London_, the best-known sporting paper of the time. Here he was associated with Cruikshank, Madons, "Phiz," and Seymour. It was when at work for _Bell's Life_ that he first imbibed a taste for field sports, which developed into a strong feature in his pictorial career. He joined the hounds in Herefordshire, where Millais became his fellow pupil in acquiring the arts of the chase. Among the schemes of drollery that our artist participated in about this time was the _Comic Latin Grammar_, Leigh contributing the text, and Leech the illustrations. This was followed by the _Comic English Grammar_, and likewise by the _Children of the Mobility_, a parody on a well-known work devoted to the serious glorification of our juvenile aristocracy. But in August of 1841 Leech began the great work of his life--a work, indeed, which he never quitted but with life--namely, his connection with _Punch_. The first number of _Punch_ was issued on the 17th July, 1841, and Leech's first contribution to it appeared on the 7th August, in the fourth number. For about twenty years, it may be said, he was its leading spirit, and, by his contributions to its pages, got in all about £40,000. Political caricatures he produced by the score, and held up to ridicule many of the absurd customs of the pretensious and exclusive sections of Society. Like Thackeray and Dickens, Leech detested snobbery in all walks of life, and depicted it unsparingly in a way that it never had been dealt with before. Week after week there flowed from his pencil an endless stream of scenes of high life and low life, of indoor life and street life, now of England, and then of foreign lands, and of all times, seasons, and occasions, as also numerous scenes of deer-stalking and fishing, and of horses and hounds, in all cases depicting whatever he undertook with extraordinary accuracy combined with infinite humour. Also, when social or national wrong called for grave censure, Leech knew how to administer it, not only without giving unnecessary offence, but in the way best calculated to bring about reform and redress. In all circumstances he was essentially a humorist, and he found his most genial vocation in depicting life and character in the social circles he frequented. As a keen observer of the everyday life around him, he delighted to depict the corporation magnate, the artist, the medical student, the spendthrift, the policeman, the cab driver, the coster, the carman, and hundreds of other such phases of everyday life and character, seeing humour and drollery where others failed to observe anything but the commonest aspects of everyday monotony. Of course it should not be forgotten that, if Leech did great things for _Punch_, his connection with that journal gave him great opportunities, and brought him into the very forefront of British artists. He was considered the most successful humorist of the day, and his pencil was in constant request. In the course of years he became the illustrator of about eighty volumes. When it is realised that the sketches in _Punch_ and the illustrations in these eighty volumes combined amount to some thousands in number, the mind is much impressed with the great amount of industry and application that Leech displayed throughout life. Even a tour to the Highlands, or to Ireland, or an outing to any portion of the country, was at all times turned to practical account for work later on. This incessant brain-work produced an extreme nervous sensitiveness. In this state he was much affected by noise and was literally driven from his house in Brunswick Square by street music. He removed to Kensington, where he hoped to obtain a release from this annoyance by adopting a device of double windows. But he had no peace. He often introduced in the pages of _Punch_ the barrel-organ nuisance. The public, however, at that time had no idea what these sketches from real life cost the artist. In 1864, Leech was ordered to take a holiday on the Continent. Upon his return to his London home in the autumn of the same year, although better in health, he was still strangely susceptible to noise. He spoke with more than his usual earnestness about the sufferings which the street organs gave him, and about the smallness of the sympathy which he received from people who had no weakness in the same direction. This extraordinary sensitiveness to noise was only a secondary phase or symptom of the real ailment. The real malady from which he suffered was breast-pang, or spasms of the heart, a form of angina pectoris. Although it was necessary to warn Leech against all excitement, riding, quick walking, or overwork, it was not supposed that he was in immediate danger, and, if he could only find rest and quiet, great hopes were entertained of his recovery. However, the sad end came when quite unexpected. In the morning of the 29th of October, 1864, he spoke hopefully of the future to his wife. In a few hours afterwards he whispered into the same living ear--"I am going," and fell into his father's arms in a faint. Three hours afterwards he expired. The news of his death went over the country with a dismal shock; for in what house was John Leech not an inmate in one form or another? Leech was tall, with an elegant figure, over six feet in height, graceful and gentlemanly in manner, with a fine head and a handsome face. In action he was nimble, vigorous, and yet gentle, capable of the heartiest mirth, and yet generally quiet. He was singularly modest, both as a man and an artist. The perpetual going to nature kept him humble as well as made him rich. His consideration, too, for others was apparent at all times, and the gentleness of his nature was remarkable. When it is considered that all these beautiful traits of character were accompanied by such extraordinary talent and wisdom, one is profoundly impressed with the greatness of the man. No wonder so many mourned when such a great, gentle, and graceful spirit passed away. 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45748	----	MR. PUNCH WITH ROD AND GUN Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with underscores: _italics_. PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch", from its beginning in 1841 to the present day [Illustration] [Illustration: A FEAT OF AGILITY.--_Voice from the Bow_ (_to Binks, who is trying to adjust the moorings, and has arrived at the happy moment when he is doubtful whether he will stay with the pole or return to the punt_). "Now then, you idiot, keep still! I've got a nibble!"] MR. PUNCH WITH ROD AND GUN THE HUMOURS OF FISHING AND SHOOTING [Illustration] _WITH 193 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, C. SHEPPERSON, CECIL ALDIN, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, W. J. HODGSON, A. S. BOYD, TOM BROWNE, REGINALD CLEAVER, CHARLES PEARS, H. M. BROCK, AND OTHERS. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" [Illustration] THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration] [Illustration] PREFACE As a fisherman MR. PUNCH is in the best of his humours. He makes merry over the weaknesses of those who follow the craft of Old Izaak, always with the slyest of genial manners. The angler's habit of exaggerating the size of his catch--his patience or his impatience when the fish won't bite--the conscious or unconscious ridicule he has to endure from onlookers when he is unsuccessful--the proverbial thirst that attacks the fisherman, whether he catches anything or not--MR. PUNCH has a keen eye for all such incidentals and presents them so jovially that nobody laughs over them more heartily than his victims themselves do. [Illustration] Leech, Charles Keene, Phil May, Du Maurier, Raven-Hill, Bernard Partridge, G. D. Armour--most of the best-known PUNCH artists, old and new, have revelled in the humours of both fishing and shooting. [Illustration: "POTTING SHRIMPS"] He gets as much laughter out of those who handle the gun. The infinite variety of jokes he cracks about the bad shot, the man who can't hit the birds, or is always hitting the dogs or his companion guns, is amazing. He does not spare the lady shooter, and jests of the peril in which the rest of the field are placed when she is out after the birds or rabbits; and he gets a good deal of fun out of the Frenchman's alien notion of sport. [Illustration] OBSERVATIONS ON GROUND BAIT.--Boys are often taught, though they never learn, to regard fishing as a cruel amusement, when nevertheless angling, at least as most commonly practised in the Thames, is universally admitted to be particularly and pre-eminently the _gentle_ craft. * * * * * EPITAPH ON AN ANGLER.--"Hooked it." * * * * * THE DUFFER WITH A SALMON-ROD FROM "THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER" No pursuit is more sedentary, if one may talk of a sedentary pursuit, and none more to my taste, than trout-fishing as practised in the South of England. Given fine weather, and a good novel, nothing can be more soothing than to sit on a convenient stump, under a willow, and watch the placid kine standing in the water, while the brook murmurs on, and perhaps the kingfisher flits to and fro. Here you sit and fleet the time carelessly, till a trout rises. Then, indeed, duty demands that you shall crawl in the manner of the serpent till you come within reach of him, and cast a fly, which usually makes him postpone his dinner-hour. But he will come on again, there is no need for you to change your position, and you can always fill your basket easily--with irises and marsh-marigolds. Such are our country contents, but woe befall the day when I took to salmon-fishing. The outfit is expensive, "half-crown flees" soon mount up, especially if you never go out without losing your fly-book. If you buy a light rod, say of fourteen feet, the chances are that it will not cover the water, and a longer rod requires in the fisherman the strength of a Sandow. You need wading-breeches, which come up nearly to the neck, and weigh a couple of stone. The question has been raised, can one swim in them, in case of an accident? For _one_, I can answer, he can't. The reel is about the size of a butter-keg, the line measures hundreds of yards, and the place where you fish for salmon is usually at the utter ends of the earth. Some enthusiasts begin in February. Covered with furs, they sit in the stern of a boat, and are pulled in a funereal manner up and down Loch Tay, while the rods fish for themselves. The angler's only business is to pick them up if a salmon bites, and when this has gone on for a few days, with no bite, influenza, or a hard frost with curling, would be rather a relief. This kind of thing is not really angling, and a Duffer is as good at it as an expert. Real difficulties and sufferings begin when you reach the Cruach-na-spiel-bo, which sounds like Gaelic, and will serve us as a name for the river. It is, of course, extremely probable that you pay a large rent for the right to gaze at a series of red and raging floods, or at a pale and attenuated trickle of water, murmuring peevishly through a drought. But suppose, for the sake of argument, that the water is "in order," and only running with deep brown swirls at some thirty miles an hour. Suppose also, a large presumption, that the Duffer does not leave any indispensable part of his equipment at home. He arrives at the stream, and as he detests a gillie, whose contempt for the Duffer breeds familiarity, he puts up his rod, selects a casting line, knots on the kind of fly which is locally recommended, and steps into the water. Oh, how cold it is! I begin casting at the top of the stream, and step from a big boulder into a hole. [Illustration] Stagger, stumble, violent bob forwards, recovery, trip up, and here one is in a sitting position in the bed of the stream. However, the high india-rubber breeks have kept the water out, except about a pailful, which gradually illustrates the equilibrium of fluids in the soles of one's stockings. However, I am on my feet again, and walking more gingerly, though to the spectator my movements suggest partial intoxication. That is because the bed of the stream is full of boulders, which one cannot see, owing to the darkness of the water. There was a fish rose near the opposite side. My heart is in my mouth. I wade in as far as I can, and make a tremendous swipe with the rod. A frantic tug behind, crash, there goes the top of the rod! I am caught up in the root of a pine-tree, high up on the bank at my back. No use in the language of imprecation. I waddle out, climb the bank, extricate the fly, get out a spare top, and to work again, more cautiously. Something wrong, the hook has caught in my coat, between my shoulders. I must get the coat off somehow, not an easy thing to do, on account of my india-rubber armour. It is off at last. I cut the hook out with a knife, making a big hole in the coat, and cast again. That was over him! I let the fly float down, working it scientifically. No response. Perhaps better look at the fly. Just my luck, I have cracked it off! Where is the fly-book? Where indeed? A feverish search for the fly-book follows--no use: it is not in the basket, it is not in my pocket; must have fallen out when I fell into the river. No good in looking for it, the water is too thick, I _thought_ I heard a splash. Luckily there are some flies in my cap, it looks knowing to have some flies in one's cap, and it is not so easy to lose a cap without noticing it, as to lose most things. Here is a big Silver Doctor that may do as the water is thick. I put one on, and begin again casting over where that fish rose. By George, there he came at me, at least I think it must have been at me, a great dark swirl, "the purple wave bowed over it like a hill," but he never touched me. Give him five minutes law, the hook is sure to be well fastened on, need not bother looking at that again. Five minutes take a long time in passing, when you are giving a salmon a rest. Good times and bad times and all times pass, so here goes. It is correct to begin a good way above him and come down to him. I'm past him; no, there is a long heavy drag under water, I get the point up, he is off like a shot, while I stand in a rather stupid attitude, holding on. If I cannot get out and run down the bank, he has me at his mercy. I do stagger out, somehow, falling on my back, but keeping the point up with my right hand. No bones broken, but surely he is gone! I begin reeling up the line, with a heavy heart, and try to lift it out of the water. It won't come, he is here still, he has only doubled back. Hooray! Nothing so nice as being all alone when you hook a salmon. No gillie to scream out contradictory orders. He is taking it very easy, but suddenly he moves out a few yards, and begins jiggering, that is, giving a series of short heavy tugs. They say he is never well hooked, when he jiggers. The rod thrills unpleasantly in my hands, I wish he wouldn't do that. It is very disagreeable and makes me very nervous. Hullo! he is off again up-stream, the reel ringing like mad: he gets into the thin water at the top, and jumps high in the air. He is a monster. Hullo! what's that splash? The reel has fallen off, it was always loose, and has got into the water. How am I to act now? He is coming back like mad, and all the line is loose, and I can't reel up. I begin pulling at the line to bring up the reel, but the reel only lets the line out, and now he's off again, down stream this time, and I after him, and the line running out at both ends at once, and now my legs get entangled in it, it is twisted all round me. He runs again and jumps, the line comes back in my face, all slack, something has given. It is the hook, it was not knotted on firmly to start with. He flings himself out of the water once more to be sure that he is free, and I sit down and gnaw the reel. Had ever anybody such bad fortune? But it is just my luck! I go back to the place where the reel fell in, and by pulling cautiously I extract it from the stream. It shan't come off again; I tie it on with the leather lace of one of my brogues. Then I reel up the slack, and put on another fly, out of my cap--a Popham. Then I fish down the rest of the pool. Near the edge, in the slower part of the water, there is a long slow draw; before I can lift the point of the rod, a salmon jumps high out of the water at me,--and is gone! I never struck him, was too much taken aback at the moment; did not expect him then. Thank goodness, the hook is not off this time. The next stream is very deep, strong and narrow; the best chance is close in on my side. By Jove! here he is, he took almost beside the rock. He sails leisurely out into the strength of the stream; if he will come up, I can manage him, but if he goes down, the water is very swift and broken, there are big boulders, and then a sheer wall of rock difficult to pass in cold blood, and then the Big Pool. He insists on going down; I hold hard on him, and refuse line. But he leaps, and then--well he _will_ have it; down he rushes, I after him, over the stones, scrambling along the rocky face; great heavens! _the top joint of the rod is loose_; I did not tie it on, thought it would hold well enough. But down it runs, right down the line; it must be touching the fish. It is; he does not like it, he jiggers like a mad thing, rushes across the Big Pool, nearly on to the opposite bank. Why won't the line run? The line is entangled in my bootlace. He is careering about; I feel that I am trembling like a leaf. There, I knew it would happen; he is off with my last casting-line, hook and all. A beauty he was, clear as silver and fresh from the sea. Well, there is nothing for it but a walk back to the house. I have lost one fly-book, two hooks, a couple of casting-lines, three salmon, a top joint, and I have torn a great hole in my coat. On changing my dress before lunch, I find my fly-book in my breast pocket, where I had not thought of looking for it somehow. Then the rain comes, and there is not another fishing day in my fortnight. Still, it decidedly was "one crowded hour of glorious life," while it lasted. The other men caught four or five salmon apiece; it is their red letter day. It is marked in black in my calendar. * * * * * To WELL-INFORMED PISCATORIALS.--_Query._ What sort of fish is a Nod? _Note._ A Nod is a sea-fish, and is, probably, of the limpet tribe. This we gather from our knowledge of the Periwinkle, known in polite circles as the 'Wink. The value of the Nod has come down to us in the form of an old proverb, "A Nod is as good as a 'Wink," and this no doubt originated the query to which we have satisfactorily replied. * * * * * [Illustration: "What bait are yer usin', Billie?" "Cheese." "What are yer tryin' ter catch--mice?"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A SALMON TAKING A FLY"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--_Friend_ (_in the distance_). "Enjoying it, old chap?" _Novice._ "_Rather!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Diminutive Nursemaid_ (_to angler, who has not had a bite for hours_). "Oh, please, sir, do let baby see you catch a fish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "NOT PROVEN."--_Presbyterian Minister._ "Don't you know it's wicked to catch fish on the Sawbath?!" _Small Boy_ (_not having had a rise all the morning_). "Wha's catchin' fesh?!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Gent_ (_who has recently purchased the property_). "Now, don't you boys know that nobody can catch fish in this stream except with my--er--a--special permit?" _Youthful Angler._ "Get away! Why, me and this 'ere kid's catched scores of 'em wi' a worrum!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Angler_ (_after landing his tenth--reading notice_). "The man who wrote that sign couldn't have been using the right bait!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MISPLACED SYMPATHY.--"Well? Have you caught any fish, Billy?" "Well, I _really_ caught _two_! But they were quite young, poor little things, and so they _didn't know how to hold on_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _Angler._ "Hush! Keep _back_! Keep _back_! I had a beautiful rise just then; shall get another directly."] * * * * * [Illustration: DREADFUL SITUATION! _Party in Waders_ (_on the shallower side, with nice trout on_). "Now then, you idiot, bring me the net, can't you, or he'll be off in a second!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "Deuced odd, Donald, I can't get a fish over seven pounds, when they say Major Grant above us killed half a dozen last week that turned twenty pounds apiece!" _Donald._ "Aweel, sir, it's no that muckle odds i'th' sawmon,--but thae fowk up the watter is bigger leears than we are doon here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "ONE GOOD TURN," ETC.--_City Man_ (_to one of his clerks he finds fishing in his ornamental water_). "Look here, Smithers, I've no objection to giving you a day now and then 'to attend your aunt's funeral'--but I think you might send some of the fish up to the house!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MISSED.--_Angus._ "Eh, man, that wass a splendid cod! If we had gotten that cod, noo, we micht ha' been ha'ein' a dram." _Mr. Smith_ (_from Glasgow_). "Indeed, and ye would, Angus." _Bauldry._ "Mebbe, Maister Smuth, if we wad have had a dram afore ye wass lettin' doon yer line, we micht have grappit that muckle fush!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Friend._ "Hullo, old chappie! Fallen in?" _Dripping Angler._ "You don't suppose this is a perspiration, do you?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE GENTLE CRAFTSMAN (?).--_Irascible Angler_ (_who hasn't had a rise all day_). "There!"--(_Throwing his fly-book into the stream, with a malediction_)--"Take your choice!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNLUCKY.--_American Cousin_ (_last day of season_). "What sport? 'Guess I've been foolin' around all day with a twenty-five-dollar pole, slinging fourteen-cent baits at the end of it, and haven't caught a darned fish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "THERE'S MANY A SLIP," ETC.--Waggles saw a splendid three-pound trout feeding in a quiet place on the Thames one evening last week. Down he comes the next night, making sure of him! But some other people had seen him too!!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Contemplative Man_ (_in punt_). "I don't so much care about the sport, it's the delicious repose I enjoy so."] * * * * * [Illustration: MENACE _Little Angler_ (_to her refractory bait_). "Keep still, you tiresome little thing! If you don't leave off skriggling, I'll throw you away, and take another!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BLANK DAY _Old Gent_ (_greeting friend_). "Hullo, Jorkins! 'Been fishing? What did you catch?" _Jorkins_ (_gloomily_). "Ha'-past six train home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN OBVIOUSLY UNKIND INQUIRY _Brown_ (_to Jones, who has, for the first time, been trying his hand at fishing from a boat_). "Well, old chap, what sort o' sport?"] * * * * * [Illustration: SEIZING HIS OPPORTUNITY _The Major_ (_on his way to try for the big trout, and pondering on his fly-book_). "Now I wonder what he'll take? What d'you say, Smithers, eh?" _Smithers_ (_pulling up with alacrity_). "Take, sir? Well, sir, thanky, sir, sup o' whisky, sir, for choice!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CONSCIENTIOUS FLATTERY.--_Boatman._ "I canna mind a finer fesh for its size!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WET AND DRY.--_Careful Wife._ "Are you very wet, dear?" _Ardent Angler_ (_turning up his flask_). "No, dry as a lime-kiln--haven't had a drop these two hours!"] * * * * * [Illustration: DRY-FLY ENTOMOLOGY.--(Scene--_The banks of a Hampshire stream in the grayling season_). _Angler_ (_the rise having abruptly ceased_). "I think they're taking a _siesta_, Thompson." _Keeper._ "I dessay they are, sir, but any other fly with a touch o' red in it would do as well."] * * * * * [Illustration: EGOMANIA.--(Scene--_The Bar Parlour of the "Little Peddlington Arms" during a shower._) _Little Peddlingtonian_ (_handing newspaper to stranger from London_). "Have you seen that account of our fishing competition in the _Little Peddlington Gazette_, sir?" "No, I'm afraid I've not!" "It's a _very_ interesting article, sir. It mentions my name several times!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BOTTOM FISHING.--_Piscator No. 1_ (_miserably_). "Now, Tom, _do_ leave off. It isn't of any use, and it's getting quite dark." _Piscator No. 2._ "Leave off!! What a precious disagreeable chap you are! You come out for a day's pleasure, and you're already wanting to go home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--_Unfeeling Passer-by._ "Say, mister! Are you fly-fishing, or 'eaving the lead?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Piscator, Senior._ "What! yer want to chuck it up jus because we never catches nothing. Why, I'd like to know how yer proposes to spend the remainder of yer 'olidays, eh?"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BROAD HINT _Piscator._ "Yes, I like a day at this time of year. Get all the _water to myself_, you see." _Yokel._ "Ah! And mayhap have a sup o' the whisky to spare for somebody else, governor?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Tom_ (_writing_).--"I say, Bob, I'm rubbing in the local colour for the benefit of the folk at home--could you help me to some correct _fishing_ expressions--just to give the thing an atmosphere?" _Bob._ "I've heard a lot one time and another, old man, but the only one I remember is--_'Pass the flask'!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: "MIGHT BE WORSE!"--_First Jolly Angler_ (_peckish after their walk_). "Got the sandwiches and----" _Second Jolly Angler_ (_diving into creel_). "Oh, yes, here they are, all right, and here's the whisk--but--tut-t-t, by Jove!--I've forgotten the fishing-tackle!!" _First Jolly Angler._ "Oh, ne' mind--we'll get along quite well without _that_!"] * * * * * REBUS IN ARDUIS Tell me, stranger, ere I perish, Of the fish men call the trout, Ere I lose the hopes I cherish, Summer in and summer out, Hopes of hooking one and landing Him before the day is done, Waist deep in the water standing, From the dawn to set of sun. Tell me, is his belly yellow? _Is_ he spotted red and black? _Does_ he look a splendid fellow When you turn him on his back? Is there any fly can rise him, Any hook can hold him tight? Is one able to surprise him Any time from morn to night? Stranger, years I've passed in trying Every artifice and lure, Standing, crawling, wading, lying, Casting clean and long and sure. Empty yet remains my basket, Cramped and weary grows my fist, Stranger, in despair I ask it, Does the trout in truth exist? * * * * * HAGIOLOGY.--_Patron of a Fishmarket._--St. Polycarp. * * * * * [Illustration: _Encouraging Prospect._--_Piscator Juvenis._ "Any sport, sir?" _Piscator Senex._ "Oh, yes; very good sport." _P.J._ "Bream?" _P.S._ "No!" _P.J._ "Perch?" _P.S._ "No!" _P.J._ "What sport, then?" _P.S._ "Why, keeping clear of the weeds!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TEACHING THE TEACHER.--_New Curate._ "Now, boy, if, in defiance of that notice, _I_ were to bathe here, what do you suppose would happen?" _Boy._ "You'd come out a great lot dirtier than you went in!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "SMALL MERCIES."--_First Jolly Angler_ (_with empty creel_). "Well, we've had a very pleasant day! What a delightful pursuit it is!" _Second Ditto_ (_with ditto_). "Glorious! I sha'n't forget that nibble we had just after lunch, as long as I live!" _Both_ "Ah!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "VERY LIKELY A WHALE" _Lady Visitor_ (_who has been listening to Piscator's story_). "I didn't know that trout grew as large as that!" _Piscator's Wife._ "Oh, yes, they do--after the story has been told a few times!"] * * * * * A REFLECTION BY AN ANGLER.--Nature's aristocracy. Mortal man being but a worm, is therefore by nature of _gentle_ birth. * * * * * NET PROFIT.--A fisherman's. * * * * * PISCATORIAL.--Shakespearian angler's song to his bait: "Sleep, gentle, sleep." * * * * * [Illustration: OUR FRIEND BRIGGS CONTEMPLATES A DAY'S FISHING.--He is here supposed to be getting his tackle in order, and trying the management of his running line.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Robson._ "Do you think fishes can hear?" _Dobson._ "I should _hope_ not. Listen to old Smith--he's smashed his rod!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lambertson (who is nervous, and weighs about a cart-load of bricks, to Dapperton, who has just nipped across, and weighs about nine stone nothing)._ "Oh, yes! All very fine for you to say, 'Don't dwell on it.' B--B--BUT----"] * * * * * THE GENTLE CRAFT (_By Our Own Trout_) How gentle is the fisherman who sits beside the brook, And firmly puts the wriggling worm upon the pointed hook How pleasant for the hapless trout to find, from some strange cause, The fly conceals a something that makes havoc with its jaws! Dame Juliana Berners wrote a book, in which she said The blessing of St. Peter rests upon the angler's head; She bid him not be "ravenous in taking game,"--I wish She'd ever asked if he deserved the blessings of the fish. We were a happy family, as merry as could be, "Diversified with crimson stains," as Pope has said. Ah me! There came the cruel fisherman, his flies had deadly gleam, And not a soul remains but me to mourn within the stream. What recked my little troutlets of the Palmers, Spinners, Duns, They headlong rushed, and then got caught, my innocent young sons! They're cooked--excuse an old trout's tear!--but hard it is to feel A monster's ta'en your family for matutinal meal. The "honest angler," Walton, cried, and maundered night and day, But Byron puts the matter in a very different way; He said that Isaac should have hook fixed firmly "in his gullet," And oh! that I might be the trout that he suggests should pull it. * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown (enthusiastic angler, who has brought his friend and guest out for a "delightful day's fishing")._ "Confound it! I've left them--I say, old chap, got any flies with you?" _Jones (not enthusiastic, and a non-smoker, wearily)._ "Flies!!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CATS WHO CATCH CAN Uncle George, just returned from a morning's fishing, recounts how he landed some of the "most magnificent trout ever taken in these waters," and his audience anticipate much satisfaction from the contents of his basket.] [Illustration: Meanwhile the contents of Uncle George's basket are being fully appreciated in the hall!] * * * * * [Illustration: _Lunatic (suddenly popping his head over wall)._ "What are you doing there?" _Brown._ "Fishing." _Lunatic._ "Caught anything?" _Brown._ "No." _Lunatic._ "How long have you been there?" _Brown._ "Six hours." _Lunatic._ "_Come inside!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: A GENTLE HINT.--_Mr. Giglamps (who has been caught by keeper with some fish in his basket under taking size)._ "Oh--er--well, you see, fact is, my glasses--er--magnify a good deal. Make things look larger than they really are!" _Keeper (about to receive smaller tip than meets the occasion)._ "Ah! makes yer put down a shillin' when yer means 'alf-a-crown, sometimes, I dessay, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PAYING TOO DEAR FOR HIS WHISTLE.--_Donald._ "E--h, sir, yon's a gran' fesh ye've gotten a haud o'!" _The Laird._ "Oo, aye, a gran' fesh enoo, but I'd be gay an' glad if I saw my twa-and-saxpenny flee weel oot o' his mooth!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Jones_ (_the adventurous_). "It--it's gettin' almost too d-deep, I fear, Miss Hookem!" _Miss Hookem._ "Oh, please do go on! It'll be the fish of my life!" _Jones_ (_who is not a champion swimmer_). "M-mine too!"] * * * * * AN ACUTE ANGLER.--The judicious Hooker. * * * * * ANGLER'S MOTTO.--_Carpe diem._ A carp a day. * * * * * THE ANGLE OF INCIDENCE.--When you're fishing, and tumble into the water. * * * * * WALTON'S LIFE OF HOOKER.--Is this another name for Izaak Walton's _Complete Angler_? * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS--SEA FISHING In fishing for conger eels, it is sometimes convenient to have a spare boat.] * * * * * [Illustration: RETURNED EMPTY.--_Old Mayfly_ (_who had dropped his flask further down stream, and has just had it returned to him by honest rustic_). "Dear me! Thank you! Thank you!" (_Gives him a shilling._) "Don't know what I should ha' done without it!" (_Begins to unscrew top._) "May I offer you a----" _Honest Rustic._ "Well, thank y', sir, but me and my mate, not seein' a howner about, we've ta'en what there were inside."] * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS.--When casting with a fly rod, be sure to get your line well out behind you.] * * * * * THE COMPLEAT DUFFER [Illustration: Hooking a lobster] I have fished in every way, Fished on every kind of day, But my basket still remains _in statu quo_, Not a stickleback will rise, Not a gudgeon as a prize To the quite amazing flies That I throw. When I try the purling brook Many trout just have a look At my fly, or at the minnow that I spin, With fishy leer they squirm Off, and my belief is firm That I'd better use a worm On a pin. Wherever I get leave, Still I fish from morn to eve, Though I never--hardly ever--rightly cast, With a body soaking wet, With a mind intent and set On success achieving yet At the last. In my coat of wondrous tweed, And on every wandering weed, Hooks and flies unnamed invariably I fix. _Here_ I cannot land a fish-- I can only hope and wish I may creel a goodly dish In the Styx. * * * * * [Illustration: RELIEF.--_Piscator_ (_about the end of a very bad day_). "Donald, hang the boat here a bit, we may get a rise." _Donald._ "Hang!"--(_Giving way_)--"I shall tamm the boat if you will, and the trouts--and the loch too!" [_Feels better!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: Catching her-ring] * * * * * [Illustration: Deep C fishing] * * * * * _Q._ What is the difference between a dunce and an angler? _A._ One hates his books and the other baits his hooks. * * * * * ENTHUSIASTIC.--That indefatigable angler, Trollinson, never forgets his craft. Even in writing to you, he is sure to drop a line. * * * * * [Illustration: Catching min'nose on the bridge] * * * * * [Illustration: First instance of the cure of soles (_Vide_ Life of St. Anthony)] * * * * * [Illustration: SUPERB _Podgson (a recently joined disciple of the gentle craft)._ "Ah, now I flatter myself that I played that fellow with considerable skill, and landed him without the net, too!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "I'll punch your 'ead, directly, if you don't leave orff. How do yer think the what's-a-names 'll bite, if you keep on a splashin' like that?"] * * * * * AN ORIGINAL CORNER MAN.--_The Complete Angler._ * * * * * A BROTHER OF THE ANGLE.--A fellow mathematician. * * * * * When is a fisherman like a Hindoo? When he loses his cast. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Landowner_ (_to Angler_). "Hi, you, sir! This is _my_ water. You can't fish here." _Angler._ "Oh, all right. Whose is that water up there round the bend?" _Irate Landowner._ "Don't know: not mine. But this is." _Angler._ "Very well. I'll wait till that flows down here!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "MANY A SLIP."--_Boisterous Friend_ (_bursting suddenly through the shrubbery, and prodding proprietor with his umbrella_). "Hul-lo, Hackles, my boy! Ketching lots o' salmon!" _Angler._ "There! Tut-t-t-t--confound you! I should ha' settled that fish if you hadn't come bothering about! Three people coming to dinner without notice, and only chops in the house! You'd better go and tell my wife what you've done"] * * * * * [Illustration: PISCATORIAL POLITENESS. (_From a Yorkshire stream._)--_Privileged Old Keeper_ (_to member of fishing club, of profuse and ruddy locks, who is just about to try for the big trout, a very wary fish_). "Keep yer head doon, sir, keep yer head doon!" (_Becoming exasperated._) "'Ord bou it, man, keep yer head doon! Yer m't as weel come wi' a torch-leet procession to tak' a fish!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SOMETHING LIKE PRESERVATION.--_Irate Individual._ "Are you aware, sir, that you are fishing in preserved water?" _'Arry_ (_not quite so innocent as he would appear_). "Preserved water! And is all the fish _pickled_, then? Bless'd if I've seen any live 'uns about."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Brown._ "Well, I must be going in a minute." _Mr. B._ "What for?" _Mrs. B._ "Why, I forgot to order the fish for dinner."] * * * * * [Illustration: MORE ORNAMENTAL THAN USEFUL.--"Just give that bit o' lead a bite atween yer teeth, will yer, matie?" "Ain't ye got no teeth of yer own?" "I got some, but there ain't none of 'em opposite one another."] * * * * * [Illustration: ANTICIPATION.--_Piscator_ (_short-sighted; he had been trolling all day for a big pike that lay in a hole about here_). "Quick, Jarvis--the landing-net--I've got him!" _Jarvis._ "Ah, sir, it's only an old fryin'-pan! But that will be useful, y'know, sir, when we do catch him!"] * * * * * A PUNT POEM I'm a fisherman bold, And I don't mind the cold, Nor care about getting wet through! I don't mind the rain, Or rheumatical pain, Or even the tic-douloureux! I'm a fisherman damp, Though I suffer from cramp, Let weather be foul or be fine, From morning till night Will I wait for a bite, And never see cause to repine! I'm a fisherman glad, And I never am sad; I care not to shoot or to hunt; I would be quite content If my whole life were spent From morning to night in a punt! I'm a fisherman brave, And I carol a stave In praise of the rod and the line! From the bank, or a boat, Will I gaze on my float-- What life is so happy as mine? * * * * * [Illustration: _Big Scotchman._ "Confound these midges!" _Little Cockney._ "Why, they 'aven't touched me!" _Big Scotchman._ "Maybe they have na noticed ye yet!"] * * * * * THE GREATEST ANGLE OF ELEVATION.--Fishing off the top of Shakespeare's Cliff. * * * * * BAIT AND WHITEBAIT The "gentle" craft some people angling name; The "lobworm" might more truly call the same. * * * * * [Illustration: _First Angler_ (_to country boy_) "I say, my lad just go to my friend on the bridge there, and say I should be much obliged to him if he'd send me some bait."] [Illustration: _Country Boy_ (_to second angler, in the Eastern Counties language_). "Tha' there bo' sahy he want a wurrum!!"] * * * * * THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER The dainty artificial fly Designed to catch the wily trout, Full loud _laudabunt alii_, And I will join, at times, no doubt, But yet my praise, without pretence, Is not from great experience. I talk as well as anyone About the different kinds of tackle, I praise the Gnat, the Olive Dun, Discuss the worth of wings and hackle I've flies myself of each design, No book is better filled than mine. But when I reach the river's side Alone, for none of these I wish, No victim to a foolish pride, My object is to capture fish; Let me confess, then, since you ask it-- A worm it is which fills my basket! O brown, unlovely, wriggling worm, On which with scorn the haughty look, It is thy fascinating squirm Which brings the fattest trout to book, From thee unable to refrain, Though flies are cast for him in vain! Deep gratitude to thee I feel, And then, perhaps, it's chiefly keen, When rival anglers view my creel, And straightway turn a jealous green; And, should they ask me--"What's your fly?" "A fancy pattern," I reply! * * * * * [Illustration: Catching crabs and flounders in the Thames] * * * * * [Illustration: Catching wails at Whippingham] * * * * * [Illustration: Catching soles and skate on the (sea) Serpentine] * * * * * [Illustration: Catching whiting from the Strand] * * * * * [Illustration: SOMETHING LIKE A CATCH.--_Mrs. Binks_ (_sick of it_). "Really, John! How can you bear to spend your time whip--whip--whipping at the stream all day long and never a single fish taking the least notice of you?" _John._ "Ah, but think o' the delight, Maria, when you do get a fish! Lor' bless us, my dear, have you forgotten the day when you hooked me?"] * * * * * [Illustration: FROM DEE-SIDE.--_Piscator._ "Yes, my boy, ain't he a beauty? Forty pounds--three foot eight from tail to snout--fresh run! I'm going to have him photographed, with a full-grown man standing by, to show the proportions. By the way"--(_faintly_)--"would--er--would _you_ mind being the _man_?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Imperturbable Boatman._ "Haud up yer rod, man! Ye have 'm! ye have 'm!"] * * * * * ANECDOTE BY IZAAK WALTON.--One Piscator, whom I will not further name, had a certain acquaintance who, through the credit he had gotten by his wealth, worth, and wit, came to be made a magistrate. Whereupon Piscator goes me to the river and catches a fish, which having brought home, he sends to the new-made justice with a note, saying, "Inasmuch, sir, as you are now promoted to the condition of a beak, I do send you a perch." * * * * * [Illustration: ANGLING EXTRAORDINARY _Customer_ (_in a great hurry_). "A small box of gentles, please. And look sharp! I want to catch a 'bus!!"] * * * * * A SPORTIVE SONG _A Sojourner in North Britain goes Salmon-fishing with a New Young Woman._ Far from the busy haunts of men, Mid hazel, heather, gorse, You are the Beauty of the glen, And I the Beast, of course. I fetch and carry at your wish, I wait your beck and nod, And yet your soul is with that fish, Your ardour in your rod. He struggles hard, gives now a lunge, Like boxer in the ring, And now he executes a plunge That makes your tackle spring; And then again he quiet lies, As if in cunning thought Of how to lose this worst of flies That he so gladly caught. Anon we see his silver back Rush madly up the stream, And then he takes another tack, An effort that's supreme; He tries to leap the rocky wall That environs the pool. How hot that rush! How low that fall! While you are calm and cool. You utter not a word; your wrist Must surely be of steel; For, let your captive turn or twist, You never spend the reel. But with your eye fast fixed you stand-- Diana with a hook-- Determined that good grilse to land, And bring your fly to book. Well done! He weakens! With the gaff I'm ready for the prey. And now you give a little laugh That means "He must give way!" "Look out!" you cry. I do look out, And then I lose my head. You've missed the fish without a doubt, But captured me instead! * * * * * A POINT OF TRESPASS.--_Irate Owner of this side of water._ "Are you aware that you are trespassing in this water, young man?" _Sharp Youth._ "But I'm not in the water, sir." _Irate Owner_ (_more irate_). "Confound you, but you've just taken a fish out!" _Sharp Youth._ "Yes, sir. The fish was trespassing!" * * * * * _Enthusiastic Fisherman._ "What a bore! Just like my luck. No sooner have I got my tackle ready, and settled down to a book, than there comes a confounded bite!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Visitor._ "Are there any fish in this river?" _Native._ "Fish! I should rather think there was. Why, the water's simply saturated with 'em!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ANGLING IN THE SERPENTINE.--SATURDAY, P.M.--_Piscator No. 1._ "Had ever a bite, Jim?" _Piscator No. 2._ "Not yet--I only come here last Wednesday!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A BAD BARGAIN.--No water!--and after having rented a stream, and travelled five hundred miles, too!!] * * * * * [Illustration: Di would go sea-fishing to-day. I went too. She says we had a grand day, so I suppose we had. At the same time, I don't think it was quite right to give my lunch to the boatman without asking me whether I wanted it or no. Di says she'll ask her cousin--hang him!--to go with her next time.] * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Angler_ (_waking tramp_). "Why can't you look after your beast of a dog? It's been and eaten all my lunch." _Tramp_ (_hungrily_). "What, all the lot, mister! Well, he shouldn't ave done that if _I_ could 'ave 'elped it!"] [Illustration: SHAKSPEARIAN MOTTO FOR AUGUST 12 "Now will I hence to seek my lovely moor!" _Titus Andronicus_, Act II., Sc. 3. ] * * * * * THE BIRDS AND THE PHEASANT (_After Longfellow_) I shot a partridge in the air, It fell in turnips, "Don" knew where; For just as it dropped, with my right I stopped another in its flight. I killed a pheasant in the copse, It fell amongst the fir-tree tops; For though a pheasant's flight is strong, A cock, hard hit, cannot fly long. Soon, soon afterwards, in a pie, I found the birds in jelly lie; And the pheasant, at a fortnight's end, I found again in the _carte_ of a friend. * * * * * ODE ON A DISTANT PARTRIDGE (_By an Absent-minded Sportsman_) Well, I'm blest! I'm pretty nearly Speechless, as I watch that bird, Saving that I mutter merely One concise, emphatic word-- What that is may be inferred! English prose is, to my sorrow, Insufficient for the task. Would that I could freely borrow Expletives from Welsh or Basque-- One or two is all I ask! Failing that, let so-called verses Serve to mitigate my grief Doggerel now and then disperses Agonies that need relief. (Missing birds of these is chief!) Blankly tramping o'er the stubbles Is a bore, to put it mild; But, in short, to crown my troubles, _One_ mishap has made me riled, Driv'n me, like the coveys, wild. For at last I flush a partridge, Ten yards rise, an easy pot! Click. Why, bless me, where's the cartridge? Hang it! there, I clean forgot Putting _them_ in ere I shot! * * * * * [Illustration: "TURN ABOUT."--_George._ "I say, Tom, do take care! You nearly shot my father then!" _Tom._ "Sh! Don't say anything, there's a good fellow! Take a shot at mine!!"] * * * * * THE FOOL WITH A GUN (_To the Tune of the "Temptation of St. Anthony"_) [Illustration: A LITTLE CHECK] There are many fools that worry this world, Fools old, and fools who're young; Fools with fortunes, and fools without, Fools who dogmatise, fools who doubt, Fools who snigger, and fools who shout, Fools who never know what they're about, And fools all cheek and tongue; Fools who're gentlemen, fools who're cads, Fools who're greybeards, and fools who're lads; Fools with manias, fools with fads, Fools with cameras, fools with tracts, Fools who deny the stubbornest facts, Fools in theories, fools in acts; Fools who write Theosophist books, Fools who believe in Mahatmas and spooks; Fools who prophesy--races and Tophets-- Bigger fools who believe in prophets; Fools who quarrel, and fools who quack; In fact, there are all sorts of fools in the pack, Fools fat, thin, short, and tall; But of all sorts of fools, the fool with a gun (Who points it at someone--of course, "in fun"-- And fools around till chance murder is done) Is the worsest fool of them all! * * * * * [Illustration: HIS FIRST PARTRIDGE SHOOT] * * * * * [Illustration: SPORTING EXTRAORDINARY--THE OLD DOG POINTS CAPITALLY "I tell yer wot it is, Sam! If this fool of a dog is a going to stand still like this here in every field he comes to, we may as well shut up shop, for we shan't find no partridges!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE.--"Confess now. Have you ever hit a haystack, even?" "Well, of course I have." "What did you aim at?"] * * * * * THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER The First of September, remember The day of supremest delight. Get ready the cartridge, the partridge Must fall in the stubble ere night. The breechloader's ready, and steady The dog that we taught in old days; He's firm to his duty, a beauty That cares for but one person's praise. He's careful in stubble, no trouble In turnips, he's keen as a man; But looks on acutely, and mutely Seems saying, "Shoot well, if you can!" They flash from the cover--what lover Of sport does not thrill as they rise In feathered apparel? Each barrel Kills one, as the swift covey flies. So on through the morning, still scorning All rest until midday has past, When lunch should be present, and pleasant That _al fresco_ breaking of fast. One pipe, then be doing, pursuing The sport that no sport can eclipse; So homeward to dinner, a winner Of praise from the fairest of lips. * * * * * [Illustration: A HUMANE INSTINCT.--_Snob_ (_who has been making himself very objectionable_). "I say, what do you do with your game?" _Host._ "Give my friends what they want, and send the rest to market." _Snob._ "Ah, sell it, do you? With my game, don'tyer-know, I give my friends some, and send the rest to the hospitals." _Host._ "And very natural and proper, I'm sure. The only thing I've seen you shoot to-day was a beater!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Husband._ "Look out, Kitty. There are some birds just in front of you!" _Wife_ (_out for the first time_). "Then, for goodness sake, keeper, call that silly dog of yours! Can't you see he's standing right in my way?"] * * * * * [Illustration: AN UNFORTUNATE REMARK.--_Novice_ (_to host, after walking for two hours under a brilliant sun without seeing a single bird_). "Grand day, isn't it?" [_N.B._--_He only meant to lighten the general depression, but he wasn't invited again._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: A WISE PRECAUTION _Sportsman_ (_to his wife, who is rather a wild shot._) "By Jove! Nelly, you nearly got us again, that time! If you are not more careful, I'll go home!" _Old Keeper_ (_sotto voce_). "It's all right, squire. Her bag is full of nothing but _blank_ 'uns!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "GUNNING WITH A SMELL DOG" (_B. Jonathan, Esq., having missed a hare, the dog drops to the shot_) _B. J._ (_scornfully_). "Call that a good dawg? I reckon he ain't worth candy! When the beast's sitting, he stands and looks at him; and when he runs away, he lies down and looks at me!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Keeper._ "Would you gentlemen kindly tell me which of you two is a lord, _as I've been told to give him the best place_."] * * * * * _Gentleman._ "That looks a well-bred dog." _Owner._ "I should think he was well-bred. Why, he won't have a bit er dinner till he's got his collar on!" * * * * * SS. PATRICK AND PARTRIDGE "Now at the birds, me boy, let dhrive!" Says Mike, exhorting Dan. "That's how we'll keep the game alive, By killing all we can!" * * * * * [Illustration: DAMAGED GOODS.--_Sportsman_ (_invited to help shoot some bucks in Mr. Meanman's park, and has just knocked one over_). "By Jove! what a lovely head! You must let me have that for mounting." _Mr. Meanman_ (_frightfully indignant_). "What! cut his head off! Why, man, it would ruin the sale of the carcase!"] * * * * * [Illustration: UNNECESSARY QUESTIONS. _Lady_ (_with gun_). "Am I holding the thing right?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sportsman_ (_to Snobson, who hasn't brought down a single bird all day_). "Do you know Lord Peckham?" _Snobson._ "Oh dear, yes; I've often shot at his house." _Sportsman._ "Ever hit it?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Renting a well-stocked moor] * * * * * [Illustration: A shooting party] * * * * * A ZOOLOGICAL CONUNDRUM.--_Intending Tenant_ (_to_ Lord Battusnatch's _Head Keeper_). And how about the birds? Are they plentiful, Gaskins? _Gaskins._ Well, sir, if the foxes of our two neighbours was able to lay pheasants' eggs, I should say there'd be no better shooting south o' the Trent. * * * * * SAD FATALITY TO ONE OF A SHOOTING PARTY ON THE MOORS.--On returning home, after a most successful day's sport, just as he entered the garden he was taken from life by a snap-shot. * * * * * [Illustration: A BLANK DAY.--_First Friend._ "The birds are terribly wild to-day." _Second Friend._ "Not half so wild as our host will be, if it keeps on like this."] * * * * * AT A DOG-SHOW.--_First Fancier._ That's a well-bred terrier of yours, Bill. _Second Fancier._ And so he ought to be. Didn't the Princess of Wales own his great grand-aunt! * * * * * [Illustration: Choke bore] * * * * * [Illustration: Birds were strong] * * * * * THE ANATOMY OF SHOOTING MEN WE NEVER MEET 1. The man who makes no excuses for shooting badly; such as--1. The light was in his eyes; 2. He was bilious; 3. There was something wrong with his cartridges; 4. Too many cigars the night before; 5. Some particular eatable or drinkable taken the night before; 6. Or that morning; 7. He was afraid of hitting that beater; 8. We were walking too fast; 9. He hadn't got his eye in; 10. Or his eye was out; 11. He didn't think it was his bird; 12. It was too far off; 13. He always thought there was something the matter with _that_ gun. 2. The man whose dog hasn't a good nose. 3. The man who can't "shoot a bit sometimes." 4. The man who hasn't some particular theory as to--1. The very best gun; 2. Cartridges; 3. Charges of powder and shot; 4. Best tipple to shoot on; 5. Best sort of boots; 6. Gaiters; 7. And equipment generally. 5. The man who doesn't change the said theory every season. 6. The man who hasn't sometimes said he couldn't shoot after lunch. 7. Or that he could shoot better after lunch. 8. The man who on your remarking that your friend George Lake is a good shot, doesn't answer that you should see Billy Mountain (or someone else) and then you would know what shooting really was. 9. The man who hasn't a friend who "can't hit a haystack." 10. The friend who owns it. 11. The man who doesn't like to be considered a good shot. 12. The man who, being a bad shot, doesn't comfort himself by thinking he knows a worse. 13. The man who hasn't made a longer shot than anyone in the company. 14. The man who, having made it, doesn't tell the story. 15. And who, having told the story, doesn't tell it more than once. Finally, _Mr. Punch_ is never likely to meet the man who, having read the above, will not own that it is strictly true of those who pursue the pleasant pastime of shooting when, as the eminent Burton puts it, "they have leisure from public cares and business." * * * * * [Illustration: THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER. (_Our sporting French friend, voted dangerous, has been given a beat to himself._)--_Chorus._ "Well, Count, what luck?" _Count._ "Magnifique! I have only shot one! Mais voilà! Qu'il est beau! The King partridge! Regardez ses plumes! N'est ce pas?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Marking black game] * * * * * [Illustration: Small bags--one brace] * * * * * [Illustration: "EVERY EXCUSE."--_Brigson_ (_excited_). "Hullo!--There goes a----" (_Ups with his gun!_) _His Host_ (_clutching his arm_). "Good Heavens!--You're not going to shoot that fox?" _Brigson._ "My dear f'ller! wh'-wh'-why not? This is the last day I shall have this season--and I--I feel as if I could shoot my own mother-in-law--if she rose!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Giving 'em both barrels] * * * * * [Illustration: Dropped his bird] * * * * * SONG OF "THE MISSING SPORTSMAN" How happy could I be on heather, A-shooting at grouse all the day, If only the birds in high feather Would not, when I shoot, fly away! * * * * * [Illustration: _Brown_ (_after an hour's digging for the ferret_). "Call this rabbit shootin'? _I_ call it landscape gardening!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "So you don't think much of my retrievers?" "On the contrary. I think you have two most valuable watch dogs."] * * * * * "ONCE HIT TWICE SHY."--_Guest_ (_taking keeper aside_). "Look here, Smithers"--(_gives half-a-sov._)--"Put me out o' gunshot of the Squire. He does shoot so precious wild, and my nerve isn't what it used to be!" * * * * * [Illustration: "GROUND GAME."--_Wife._ "Ah, then you've been successful at last, dear!" _Husband_ (_prevaricating_). "Ye--yes, I bagged----" _Wife_ (_sniffing_). "And _high_ time you did! I should say by the--oh! it must be cooked to-day!" [_It came out afterwards the impostor had bagged it at the poulterer's_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_A shooting party, August 12_ (_M. F. H. is introduced to distinguished foreigner_) "You hunt much of the fox, monsieur? I also, and have already of him shot twenty-five, and have wounded many more!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HIS "FIRST."--_Brown_ (_good chap, but never fired a gun in his life_)._ "I say, you fellows, I don't mind confessing that I am a bit nervous, you know. _I hope none of you will pepper me!_"] * * * * * LE SPORT ["The French sportswoman is not ardent, but just now _Le Sport_ is the thing."--_Daily Paper._] Ze leetle bairds zat fly ze air I vish zem not ze 'arms-- Zat is not vy ze gun I bear So _bravement_ in mine arms; 'Tis not zat I vould kill--_Ah! non!_ It is zat I adore Ze noble _institution_ Ve call in France _Le Sport_. And zen ze costume! Ah! ze 'at! Ze gaitares! Vot more sweet For ze young female-chaser zat Do 'ave ze leetle feet? Ze gun?--I fear 'im much, and oh! 'E makes my shouldare sore, But yet I do 'im bear to show 'Ow much I love _Le Sport_. Ze leetle partridge 'e may lay 'Is pretty leetle eggs, Ze leetle pheasant 'op away Upon 'is leetle legs, Ze leetle 'are zat run _si vite_ I do not vish 'is gore-- But vile mine ankles zey are neat I'll cry, "_Ah! Vive le Sport!_" * * * * * [Illustration: _Keeper_ (_to beater_). "What are you doin' here? Why don't ye go and spread yourself out?" _Beater._ "Zo I were spread out, and t'other man 'e told I, I were too wide!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Master Bob._ "I say, Adam, that was a pretty bad miss." _Keeper._ "'Twasn't even that, Master Bob. 'Twas firing in a totally wrong direction."] * * * * * [Illustration: "Beg pardon, sir! But if you was to aim at his lordship the next time, I think he'd feel more comforbler, sir!"] * * * * * LOVE AMONG THE PARTRIDGES September's first, the day was fair, We sought the pleasant stubble, The birds were rising everywhere, The old dog gave no trouble. And still my friend missed every shot, While I ne'er fired in vain. I said, "Perchance the day's too hot?" He cried, "Amelia Jane!" We shot throughout the livelong day, We always shoot together, And yet in a disgraceful way, He never touched a feather. I said, "How is it that you muff Your birds, my boy? Explain." He sighed and said, "I know it's rough But, oh, Amelia Jane!" Quoth I, "Amelia Jane may be As plump as any partridge, But that's no reason I can see Why you should waste each cartridge." He shot the dog, then missed my head, But caused the keeper pain; Then broke his gun and wildly fled To join Amelia Jane! * * * * * [Illustration: "ENOUGH OF IT."--_Country Squire._ "By George! Tom, you've gone and shot the dog!" _Friend_ (_from town_). "O, I say, old fellow, let's go back and have a game o' billiards, or else I'm quite sure I shall shoot the other one! They keep getting in the way so!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS.--Lion hunting. Be quite sure when you go looking for a lion, that you really want to find one.] * * * * * [Illustration: THE POET GOETH GUNNING Hot work "Hare up!"] * * * * * THE GROUSE THAT JACK SHOT (_A Solemn Tragedy of the Shooting Season_) This is the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This is the label addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This is the Babel where lost was the label addressed to the friend, &c. This is the porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was the label, &c. This is the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the porter who "found" the "birds," &c. This is the cooking-wench florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, &c. This is the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-maid florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, &c. This is the _gourmand_ all forlorn, who dreamed of the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-wench florid and fat, &c. This is the postman who knocked in the morn awaking the _gourmand_ all forlorn from his dream of the table, &c. And this is _Jack_ (with a face of scorn), thinking in wrath of "directions" torn from the parcel by railway borne, announced by the postman who knocked in the morn, awaking the _gourmand_ all forlorn, who dreamed of the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-wench florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was the label addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot! MORAL. If in the Shooting Season you some brace of birds would send (As per letter duly posted) to a fond expectant friend, Pray remember that a railway is the genuine modern Babel, And be very very careful _how you fasten on the label_! * * * * * [Illustration: A BLANK DAY.--"Well, dear, did you get anything?" "Not a thing! I only fired once, and that was more out of spite than anything else!"] * * * * * "WEDDED TO THE MOOR" The sportive M.P., when the Session is done, Is off like a shot, with his eye on a gun. He's like _Mr. Toots_ in the Session's hard press, Finding rest "of no consequence." Could he take less? But when all the long windy shindy is o'er, He, like _Oliver Twist_, is found "asking for _Moor_!" * * * * * A HINT IN SEASON Remember, remember, The month of September-- Partridges, rabbits, and hares; Any hamper you send, My breech-loading friend, Put "Paid" on the label it bears. * * * * * SPORTIANA.--A young sportswoman in the Highlands is reported to have shot "six fine stags through the heart." Must have been "young bucks." Of course, she used Cupid's bullets on her murderous career amid the harts. * * * * * [Illustration: "A MOST PALPABLE!" _Beginner_ (_excitedly, the first shot at the end of a blank morning_). "How's that, John?" _John._ "Well, ye seem to 'ave 'it 'im, sir!"] * * * * * ON A DANGEROUS SHOT (_By Mr. Punch's Vagrant_) He seemed an inoffensive man When first I saw him on the stubble; Made on the self-same sporting plan As those who shoot with ease or trouble! The average men, in fact, whose skill (A thing of luck far more than habit) Tempts them at times to go and kill The hare, the partridge and the rabbit. He rushed not and he did not lag; He kept the line when we were walking. He had a useful cartridge-bag; And was not prone to useless talking. He smoked an ordinary pipe; His guns were hammerless ejectors; He wore a fairly common type Of patent pig-skin leg-protectors. He told a story now and then, Some ancient tale of fur or feather, That sportsmen love to smile at when On Autumn days they come together. In fact, he seemed to outward view In all his gunned and gaitered glory, Just such a man as I or you, Except--but that's another story. Except (I'll tell it) when he shot: Then, then he did not care a cuss, sir; He blazed as if he hadn't got The least regard for life or us, sir. Our terrors left him unafraid; He tried for full-grown birds and cheepers, And, missing these, he all but made A record bag of guns and keepers. * * * * * [Illustration: THE SINEWS OF SPORT.--_The Marquis_ (_to head keeper_). "Now, Grandison, His Royal Highness will be tired of waiting: why don't you send in the beaters?" _Head keeper_ (_sotto voce_). "Beg pardon, my lord, the London train's late this morning with the pheasants--we must have half an hour to get 'em into the coverts!"] * * * * * AT THE QUICKSHOT CLUB.--_First Sportsman._ Well, I killed four rabbits with two barrels last September. _Second Sportsman._ And I had five partridges on one drive, three coming towards me, and two with fresh cartridges over the hill. _Third Sportsman_ (_wearily_). But nobody comes up to my slaying of an elephant in Assam with a pea rifle. Would you like to hear the yarn? [_The Third Sportsman is immediately left alone._ * * * * * Mr. Punch has pleasure in directing the attention of sportsmen of his own limited stature to an advertisement in the _Field_ announcing the sale of an estate, "including fifty acres of sporting woods, together with a small gentleman's residence." * * * * * [Illustration: HIS FIRST BIRD "Well, I didn't miss _that_ one, at all events!" "No, sir. They _will_ fly into it, sometimes!"] * * * * * [Illustration: Circumstances over which he has no control oblige the Pater to celebrate the _glorious twelfth_ in town this year. With the help of the poulterer, and the boys (at home for the holidays), he enjoys such excellent sport, that he says "never no moor" will he lavish hundreds of pounds on what he can get for next to nothing at home.] * * * * * [Illustration: ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT!--_Delinquent_ (_to his host_). "Oh, I'm most unfortunate! Now, you're the third man I've hit to-day!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Sportsman_ (_who has just shot a duck_). "I think he'll come down, Duncan." _Duncan._ "Ay, sir, he'll come down--when he's hungry."] * * * * * [Illustration: "THE GLORIOUS FIRST" _Young Newstyle_ (_justly indignant, to Squire Oldacres_). "There!--'Knew how it would be when you _would_ bring out those beastly dogs. _Always in the way, hang 'em!_"] * * * * * [Illustration: BROTHERLY CANDOUR.--_Jack_ (_to lady, come out to lunch_). "Are you coming with the guns this afternoon, Miss Maud?" _Miss Maud._ "I would, but I don't think I should like to see a lot of poor birds shot!" _Jack._ "Oh, if you go with Fred, your feelings will be entirely spared!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A RISKY PROCEEDING.--_Mr. Pipler (of Pipler & Co.) is having his first day on his recently-acquired moor. Any amount of shooting. Bag, absolutely--nothing._ _Master Pipler_ (_after much thought_). "Of course, they are far too valuable to be killed and eaten, pa. But isn't it rather dangerous to frighten them so much? I heard ma saying they cost you at least a guinea a brace!"] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _Old Hand._ "Now, for the last time, for goodness' sake don't shoot any of us, or the dogs, or yourself." _Novice_ (_sarcastically_). "What about the birds?" _Old Hand._ "Oh, you won't hit them!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. MUGGS' GROUSE MOOR Mr. Muggs leaves for the north. Mr. M. as he appeared, half a minute before the train started, minus half of his luggage, and with the guard shouting to him to take his seat!] * * * * * [Illustration: "Pheasant-shooting in some districts will suffer through lack of birds. The wet weather has been fatal to the young broods."--_Shooting Reports._ _Head Keeper_ (_on the First_). "Werry sorry, my lord, but this 'ere's th' on'y one as we've manisht to rare. Will I put it up for your lordship?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Beater_ (_to hare that refuses to leave her form_). "Get oop, ye lazy little beggar an' join in t' spoort!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SHOOTING PROSPECTS _Johnnie Bangs._ "I say, old man, do you mind taking these cartridges out? I've never used a gun before, don't you know!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE END OF THE SEASON.--_Passing Friend._ "Hulloa, Jack! Why on earth are you hiding there?" _Jack._ "Only safe place, don't you know. Governor's giving the tenants a day to finish the covers. They've just about finished two dogs and a beater already!"] * * * * * THE "CHEEP" OF THE PARTRIDGE _Perdix Cinerea loquitur_ 'Tis the voice of the sportsman. I hear him complain, "All my hopes of big bags have been damped by the rain. With birds shy and scarce, flooded furze and no stubble, To beat dripping covers is scarce worth the trouble." Aha! The wind's ill that blows nobody good, True, the wet has proved fatal to many a brood, Parent birds have made moan over eggs swamped and addled, When our covers were lakes in which ducks might have paddled, But partridges drowned when they'd scarce chipped the shell, Yet,--yes, on the whole, 'tis perhaps just as well. Water! Better than fire; and a cold in the head Is not _quite_ so bad as a dose of cold lead. Prime time for swell vassals of powder and shot! What's September to them, without plenty to pot? Oh! won't they fume, as they look out this morn On these damp furzy swamps, and yon drenched standing corn? Poor grumbling gun-maniacs! Isn't it fun? In the game "Birds _v._ Barrels" we birds will score one Just for once, I should hope. In this beautiful bog I am safe, I should fancy, from man, gun, and dog. They may bag a few birds on the skirts of the wheat, But I don't think _this_ cover will pay 'em to beat. St. Partridge be bothered! St. Swithin's _my_ Saint, May his rainy rain last, _I_ shall make no complaint. No! Farmers and sportsmen may grumble together-- For my part, I rather approve of the weather. [_Left chuckling._ * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS. GROUSE DRIVING Birds coming straight towards you sometimes offer a very unsatisfactory shot.] * * * * * OVER THE STUBBLE.--_Mr. Winchester Poppit_ (_at the luncheon by the coppice_). I must say that I like to see partridges driven. _Captain Treadfoot Trotter_ (_who believes in shooting over dogs_). No doubt, Mr. Poppit, you'd like to see the poor birds driven in a coach, or a tandem, or a curricle; or, if I may judge by the way you sent my pointer round the last field, ye'd wish to put 'em in a circus! * * * * * WILD SPORTS.--_The Sportsmen_ (_from the wood_). "Hullo, Tonsonby! You've had a good place. We've heard you blazing away all the afternoon. How many have you bagged?" _Tonsonby_ (_a town man_). "O, bother your tame pheasants. I've tree'd a magnificent tom cat here, and had splendid sport, but I can't hit him. You come and try!" * * * * * [Illustration: RATHER STARTLING "Well, Count! Any sport this morning?" "Hélas! mon ami, very sad sport! I 'ave shot three beautiful misses!" [_He means he has missed three beautiful shots._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: HER "FIRST" _Miss Nimrod._ "Oh, dear! he's pointing! Which end do I shoot at?"] * * * * * [Illustration: Out after partridges. Unluckily, tripped up just as Di's cousin got in the way. Thought Di rather unnecessarily sympathetic, as he was by no means dangerously hit.] * * * * * [Illustration: RISKY _Mr. O'Fluke_ (_whose shooting has been a bit wild_). "Very odd, Robins, that I don't hit anything?" _Robins_ (_dodging muzzle_). "Ah, but a'm afeard it's ower good luck to continue, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. TUBBING'S SHOOTING PONY] [Illustration: RATHER PROUD OF IT.--_Landlord_ (_who is having a shoot for his tenant-farmers_). "Good Heavens, Mr. Mangold! That bird can't have been more than a couple of feet over Mr. Butter's head!" _Mr. Mangold._ "Oh! That's what _I_ call _shootin'_!"] * * * * * [Illustration: MISTAKEN VOCATION.--_Major Missemall_ (_an enthusiast on sporting dogs_). "Confound the brute! That's the dog I was going to run in the retriever trials, too. But I won't now." _Friend._ "I wouldn't. I'd reserve him for the Waterloo Cup."] * * * * * [Illustration: DERISION.--_Bagnidge_ (_to his friend's keeper_). "Tut-t-t-t--dear me! Woodruff, I'm afraid I've shot that dog!" _Keeper._ "Oh no, sir, I think he's all right, sir. He mostly drop down like that if anybody misses!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: ECHO ANSWERS.--_Short-sighted swell_ (_to gamekeeper, who has been told off to see that he "makes a bag"_) "Another hit, Wiggins! By the way--rum thing--always seem to hear a shot somewhere _behind_ me, just after I fire!" _Wiggins_ (_stolidly_). "Yes, sir, 'zactly so, sir. Wunnerfle place for echoes this 'ere, sir!"] * * * * * BALLAD OF THE CUNNING PARTRIDGE The partridge is a cunning bird, He likes not those who bring him down: From age to age he has preferred The shots that blaze into the brown, Whose stocks come never shoulder high, Who never pause to pick and choose, But on whose biceps you descry The black, the blue, the tell-tale bruise. Or should a stubborn cartridge swell, And jam, as it may chance, your gun, The sly old partridge knows it well, "Great Scott!" he seems to chirp "here's fun!" He gathers all his feathered tribe, They leave the stubble or the grass, And with one wild and whirling gibe Above your silent muzzles pass. Your scheme you carefully contrive, And, while each beater waves his flag, Your fancy, as they duly drive, Already sees a record bag. But lo! they baulk your keen desire, For, though with birds the sky grows black, Not one of them will face the fire, And every blessed bird goes back. For partridges I'll try no more; Why should I waste in grim despair? Take me to far Albania's shore, And let me bag the woodcock there. Or on the Susquehanna's stream I'll shoot with every chance of luck The gourmet's glory and his dream, The canvas-back, that juicy duck. Yea, any other bird I'll shoot, But not again with toil and pain I'll tramp the stubble or the root. Nor wait behind a fence in vain. For of all birds you hit or miss (I've tried it out by every test), Again I say with emphasis The partridge is the cunningest. * * * * * [Illustration: HINTS TO BEGINNERS.--When going out before daylight after ducks, waders are advisable. Also, better tell your wife she need not come down (just when you expect the ducks) and ask if you are sure you are not getting your feet wet.] * * * * * [Illustration: A NOVELTY _Mr. Cylinder_ (_who always uses his host's cartridges_). "What powder are these loaded with, my boy?" _Beater._ "Ar doan't rightly know; but ar think they calls it serdlitz pooder!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Disgusted Keeper_ (_who has just beaten up a brace or so of pheasants, which young Snookson has missed "clane and clever"--to dog, which has been "going seek" and "going find" from force of habit_). "Ah, Ruby, Ruby, bad dog! T' heel, Ruby, t' heel! Ah must apologise for Ruby, sir. You see, Ruby's been accustomed to pick 'em up!"] * * * * * [Illustration: An extended tract of moor] * * * * * [Illustration: A second laying] * * * * * [Illustration: Heavy bags are difficult to secure] * * * * * [Illustration: _Extract from a private letter._ "Our bag on the first was _barely_ up to the average, although the mater, Milly, and self were out to help the men. We hunted in couples and threes, as it is a bit dull tramping along alone. And as the mater generally foozles her shots, I did most of her work too. By the way, how absurdly nervous men are 'gunning.'"] * * * * * [Illustration: MR. MUGGS ON PARTRIDGE DRIVING "What I like about the modern system of driving is the nice rest you can have between the beats."] * * * * * [Illustration: LITTLE CHICKMOUSE RASHLY ACCEPTS THE OFFER OF A DAY'S PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING.--_Gamekeeper_ (_to Little C., who has kicked up a hare_)._ "Now for it, sir!" _Chickmouse_ (_who finds he can't get over his horror of firearms_)._ "Well--fact is--I'd rather you'd----Look 'ere, you 'old the gun, and I'll pull the thingummy!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "A HIT! A PALPABLE HIT!" "Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not see you, sir!" "See me! Confound it, sir, you can see _through_ me now!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE STATE OF THE GAME.--_Lady Customer._ "How much are grouse to-day, Mr. Jiblets?" _Poulterer._ "Twelve shillings a brace, ma'am. Shall I send them----" _Lady Customer._ "No, you need not send them. My husband's out grouse-shooting, and he'll call for them as he comes home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EDUCATED. (_From a Yorkshire moor_).--_Keeper_ (_to the Captain, who has missed again, and is letting off steam in consequence_). "Oh dear! Oh dear! It's hawful to see yer missin' of 'em, sir; but"--(_with admiration_)--"ye're a scholard i' langwidge, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SELF-CONFIDENCE OUT SHOOTING.--_Nephew._ "Jump, uncle! I'll clear you!" [_But he didn't "clear" him, and old Brown says he'll carry the marks to his grave!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: "I don't know what it is, Mark, but I can't hit a bird to-day!" "Let's see your gun, sir. Ah!--well, I'd try what you could do _with some cartridges in it_, if I was you, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BREAKING IT GENTLY.--_Son of the House_ (_who wishes to say something polite about our friend's astounding shooting, but who cannot palter with the truth_). "I should think you were awfully clever at books, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: A TRUE SPORTSMAN (_A last shot of the season_) _Old Pothunter._ "Always show mercy, my boy, always show mercy! Much better to shoot 'em sitting, and save poor things a nasty fall!" [_Does._ ] * * * * * [Illustration: TRIALS OF A NOVICE _Brown._ "I wish I had the moral courage to go home!"] * * * * * [Illustration: SPORT!--_Cockney Sportsman_ (_eager, but disappointed_). "I say, my boy, seen any birds this way?" _'Cute Rustic_ (_likewise anxious to make a bag_). "Oh, a rare lot, guv'nor--a rare lot--just flew over this 'ere 'edge, and settled in that 'ere field, close to Squire Blank's ricks." [_Cockney sportsman tips boy a shilling, and goes hopefully after ... a flock of starlings!_ ] * * * * * [Illustration: _His Lordship_ (_after missing his tenth rabbit_). "I'll tell you what it is, Bagster. Your rabbits are _all two inches too short_, hereabouts!"] * * * * * [Illustration: PLEASANT FOR HARRY _Fair Sportswoman._ "Oh, Harry, I feel so excited, I scarcely know what I am doing!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BLANK FIRING _Ancient Sportsman_ (_whose sight is not what it used to be_). "Pick 'em up, James, pick 'em up! Why don't you pick 'em up?" _Veteran Keeper._ "'Cause there bean't any down, my lord!"] * * * * * SPORT IN SPORT (_Game played by Dumb-Crambo, Junior_) [Illustration: Cartridges] * * * [Illustration: Stubble and turn-up] * * * [Illustration: Marking down] * * * [Illustration: A breech loader] * * * [Illustration: Hairs and part-ridges were scarce] * * * [Illustration: Full cock] * * * * * [Illustration: _Boy_ (_after watching old sportsman miss a couple of rocketers_). "Have you shot often, uncle?" _Uncle._ "Yes, my boy, a great deal. At one time, in Africa, I used to live by my gun." _Boy_ (_thoughtfully_). "Did you? And is that why you're so thin?"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Fitz._ "I say, are _all_ your beaters out of the wood?" _Keeper._ "Yes, sir." _Fitz._ "Are you sure?" _Keeper._ "Yes, sir." _Fitz._ "Have you _counted_ them?" _Keeper._ "No, sir; but I know they're a'right." _Fitz._ "Then I've shot a roe deer!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "LE SPORT."--_Keeper._ "Why didn't you fire the other barrel, m'seer--the other barrel at the last bird?" _Monsieur Alphonse._ "Bah! I did fire ze odher barrel! I do fire bodt barrels togezzer! And in my own country I do shoot ze lark at twenty, twenty-five, and sometimes dirty yards--when he stand quite still! Your dogs zey make ze birds to flyaway"--(_insinuatingly_)--"and zey must be fatigued. Here is money. Take zem, and buy zem somezings to eat! Leave me to make my own dogs myself!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES.--_Beater._ "'Ere you are, Mr. Bags, 'ere's another one, but 'e bain't too fresh. I don't think 'e were killed to-day." _Keeper_ (_sotto voce_). "'Old your row, stupid! Of course he wasn't. We always puts a few down where the gov'nor's goin' to stand!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Laird_ (_to little Tomkyns, who is being initiated into the mysteries of deer-stalking_). "Don't move a step.] Lie down where you are!"] * * * * * HOW MOSSOO SHOT THE COCK-PHEASANT (_The Gamekeeper's Story_) [Illustration] He were a sort o' Frenchman, sir, And called hisself a Duck: I never could make head or tail O' that there furrin muck! He came to stay wi' Master there. And brought his guns and that-- But bless you, sir! he could na' shoot, No more than this here hat! [Illustration] The Master and the Frenchman went To shoot the spinney-kivver What reaches from the stable-wall Right down to that there river. A rocketing cock flew up at wunst, And Mossoo he fired, and missed-- How he did swear, and tear his hair, And shake his little fist! The way that Mossoo danced about, It really were a sight! He'd grin, and pull his beard, and shout And screech with all his might. He wore a thing across his nose Just like a kind o' shear: I think he said he were "my hop"-- Which means his sight were near. Mossoo he yelled, "I see him zere, Upon ze stable top!" With that he banged off right and left-- I seed a summat drop; I ran to pick up that there bird; And 'neath the stable-clock I found it sure enow--it were Our new gilt weather-cock! * * * * * [Illustration] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LTD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. 
46374	----	'Mr. Punch's' Book of Arms. "M^{R.} PUNCH'S" BOOK OF ARMS DRAWN & WRITTEN BY E T REED LONDON BRADBURY, AGNEW & C^{o.} Tonbridge Printed by Bradbury, Agnew, & Co. Ld. MDCCCXCIX. Contents. First Baron Russell of Killowen i The Right Hon. Sir William Vernon Harcourt, P.C. M.P. iij Joseph, first Earl of Birmingham vj Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, G.C.B. M.P. viij Horatio Herbert, first Viscount Kitchener of Omdurman xj M. le President, Felix Faure xiij Lord Kipling of Mandalay xvj The Earl of Barnato xviij Viscount Stanley of the Congo xx Oom Paul, first Earl of Krugersdorp xxij Viscount Gatti of the Strand xxiv The London County Council xxvj The Marquis of Hooley xxviij Mr. Justice Darling of Deptford xxx The Duke of Rhodes xxxij Hall Caine, first Lord Manxman xxxiv Baron Maple of Tottenham Court xxxvj Louis, first Baron Island de Rougemont xxxviij 'Appy 'Ampstead xl Lord Leno xlij Prince Kumar Shri Ranjitsinhji, Duke of Sussex xliv Marie, Countess Corelli xlvj Baron Lecky of Dublin xlviij Viscount Labouchere of Twickenham l George Nathaniel, first Earl Curzon of the Pamirs +specially granted+ lij Thomas, Viscount Bowles of the Bosphorus liv Baron Bartlett of Sheffield lvj Henry, first Baron Hawkins of Tryham Fairleigh and Sentensham lviij Mr. Punch lxj [Illustration] [Illustration: HARICONES AD MENDICOS DEBENTUR (I'D GIVE THE BEGGARS BEANS)] First Baron Russell of Killowen. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= emergent paly from a legal orle of reception, a civic beak newly chained or, robed and garnished proper with bullion, slightly debruised with thunderbolts issuant from a chief justifiably rampant in invective robed and wigged proper with sleeves turned up ermine gorged with a choler of justice / =ij= at a bend of the field on a turf vert under the heraldic rose a sporting veteran wary to the last putting a bit proper on a likely mount turning up trumpy on the post / =iij= several salted guinea-pigs debrettees richly gilt and voided of scruple charged with marketable coronets bartered in lure / =iiij= on a ground of promotion a partisan of renown semee with shamrocks and shillelaghs and wreathed with laurels elevated and erased all proper. =Crest= / rising from a bar barry a tower of strength armed at all points and charged with a snuff-box of resort furtively employed for solace. =Supporters= / dexter, a female figure of justice scaly on the pounce reguardant sundry bubbles of finance issuant in fraud / sinister, an Irish disunicorn, brogued proper, chronically rampant in quest of autonomy. [Illustration: SORS DULCIS, TAM PREMENS (NICE LOT! SO PRESSING!)] The Right Hon. Sir William Vernon Harcourt, P.C. M.P. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= on a ship party-coloured, shattered, dismasted and waterlogged, a crew prone to mutiny reguardant in complacence over the side a tried and weather-beaten chief avoirdupois proper, incontinently jettisoned without scruple or remorse / =ij= on a ground of grievance two tents of Achilles, freely canvassed in the press, conjoined morly in tension and possibly somewhat overstrained / =iij= a masterly heraldic bouget of finance, charged with a fleece of gold lifted proper from sundry millionaires gorged or, collared in transit on the hop / =iiij= on a ground protestant kensittee a veteran campaigner statant single-handed "on his helmet the motto 'Ut veniant omnes!'--'Let 'em all come!'" bearing a plume mordant guttee de l'encre transfixing several anglican traitors foxy to the last but exposed proper in mummery. =Crest= / emergent from a crown of the Plantagenets, a rogue-elephant of the forest jumbonee, thwarted circumvented and finally ousted with alacrity. +=Motto= / 'Contra dexter et audax'--'Skilful and bold in opposition.'+ =Supporters= +'otherwise engaged!--mainly in accepting resignations by return of post--but in place thereof possibly the following will answer the purpose'+ / dexter, an eminent litterateur similarly isolated and unique in courtesy, and gratitude, charged with a colossal biography proper / sinister, an heraldic sun luluois radiant in geniality, exemplarily staunch and filial to the core. =Second Motto= +Welsh translation+ / 'Lyddthe ryfraf, dydd yu effyr, nod yff y nowydd!' [Illustration: "HOW IS M^{RS} KRUGER?". (REPLY PAID)] Joseph, first Earl of Birmingham. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= an antique Boer in his glory regarding a lion spotted over a bordure 'chartered' componee, partly white-washed / =ij= an heraldic bartlet cuffed and erased under a chapeau doubled up carmine / =iij= an Irish shamrock, barred in perpetuity on a ground orange of prejudice / =iiij= a mysterious libel voluntarily erased sable, rendered more or less illegible after the manner of the new journalism / over all, on an escutcheon of pretence, several ministerial billets of the best, clawed and collared in advance. =Crest= / a lion of debate langued mordant, bearing in dexter paw the union flag flowing to the sinister, dropping in his progress a Phrygian or republican cap of liberty 'turned up' and refaced ermine. =Supporters= / two highly crusted pillars of the constitution +sang-+azure in a demi-furious state of suppression. [Illustration: AMANS NOSAE EASI TOGET FORUT!] Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, G.C.B. M.P. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= on a sea of turbulence vert a jovial commodore, braided and epauletted proper in bullion, and wearing the insignia of the grand cross of the bath, mounting nimbly the bridge of a fighting-ship, drifting derelict and awash, barnacled, scuttled, riddled, and gutted / =ij= under a chief radiant in suavity, several heraldic partibores urgent, armed with queistions perennially brandished out of season, diplomatically exorcised, muzzled, and suppressed / =iij= on a ground semee of thistles, an elder of the auld licht lichtsome, kaily canny pawky silvendy to the fu', bearing an heraldic weebit cruizey or Scottish lantern, findin' salvation in the langsyne proper / =iiij= a rugged elephant of the New Forest on the war-path, sturdy in protestantism, and fully versed in the rubric, insulated by instincts antijingonee, turned up passee by the rest. =Crest= / a Scottish knight-in-armour, reluctant in temperament, but cedant under stress of suasion, haled, elected and ensconced proper in a cul-de-sac, conjoined Kimberley in opposition, portly for the nonce, but will probably gobony in harness. +=Motto= / 'Locus dulcis!'--'Cheerful post, eh!.'+ =Supporters= / dexter, a typical antique radical of retrenchment, straitened in view +kindly lent by the British Museum+, arrayed gudee gudee exeterallois to the last reguardant paly in dismay the trend gory of the times / sinister, a modern liberal of imperialism fashodee, statant sanguine on a stricken field, acquiescent in annexation, charged with a shamrock of home-rule slipped vert and demi-erased. =Second Motto= / 'Cordate si non cordite!'--'Wisely if without high explosives!' [Illustration] [Illustration: GOING UP HIGHER] Horatio Herbert, first Viscount Kitchener of Omdurman. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= a series of cataracts neatly and punctually surmounted while you wait / =ij= a Gallic cock marchant in chicane and emergent theatrical in advance collared in trespass and +we trust+ given the chucque proper / =iij= a British lion radiant in his glory sheathing an avenging sword rusted with age but trenchant to the full / =iiij= several stars of journalism rampant and purpure with fury incontinently ordered to Cairo. =Crest= / on a mount urgent with the hump a caliph proper of the Soudan imbrued gory to the last, dropping in his flight on a ground sable sundry spouses reluctant puffy without mules. =Supporters= / dexter, an Egyptian soldier drilled armed and furnished with a backbone made in England, crowned with laurels and bearing in his right hand the black banner of the Khalifa / sinister, a British trooper in triumph similarly charged and wreathed with laurels in augmentation, holding in his left hand a lance and in the right a return ticket proper to Khartoum available for a month. =Second Motto= / 'Dwell as if about to depart'--ahem! proper. [Illustration: MOI ET NICOLAS] M. le President, Felix Faure. =Arms=/ quarterly / =i= on a ground virulent two crosses of the legion of honour couped by a presidential hand sinister from the breast of two dreyfusards of repute, steadfast in rectitude / =ii= under the shield of the chief of the state tainted with bias, several dapper heraldic scoundrelles of the staff, plumed proper, braided gold to the waist, all banded together and rampant in tort / =iij= a series of highly-strung journalistic lyres in parry on the garble proper falsette in unison / =iiij= on a rock of degradation, interned in exile, a military scapegoat charged with treason, loaded with chains of evidence designed forged and welded in fraud, on the horizon, the first rays of a dawn of hope breaking through clouds of fury. =Crests= / =i= on a cap of liberty query, stained spotted and ensanguined gules, a peacock in pride proper, his head slightly turned, charged with the riband and star of the order of St. Andrew and a penchant for display verging on puerility / =ii= on a bend of the upper Nile a tricolourd African interlope of civilisation, dumped down squatty on the bank, collared eradicated and reflexed in agony. =Supporters= / dexter, a Russian bear sable, imperially crowned and gorged with loans hysterically courted and caressed ad nauseam, simpery bowy bendy to the last, but reluctant in committal / sinister, a double-faced eagle of Muscovy reguardant azure in dismay a kettle of fish a la parisienne. =Second Motto= / 'Felix fortunatus caesaris sociusque amicus.' =Additional Motto= / 'Felix ill-egalite.' [Illustration] [Illustration: THE IDEA OF A-ST-N BEING--BUT THATS ANOTHER STORY!] Lord Kipling of Mandalay. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= a review laudatory richly deserved quite proper / =ij= an heraldic jungle-bok rampant under several deodars or mem-sahibs or words to that effect / =iij= a lordly elephint a pilin' teak / =iiij= an argot-nautical vessel +in verse+ in full sale, classed A1 at Lloyds, charged with a cargo of technicalities all warranted genuine. =Crest= / on a charger argent the head of a publisher urgent. =Supporters= / dexter, a tommy atkins in all his glory, arrayed proper by a plain tailor from the hills / sinister, a first-class fighting man or fuzzy wuzzy of the Soudan, regardant sable on a British square charged with an elan effrontee. [Illustration] [Illustration: I AM BUILDING A HOUSE] The Earl of Barnato. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= +of the month+ a regal cheque in advance proper / =ij= fretty but checky / =iij= a Boer rampant and bristled / =iiij= grand quarters +in Park Lane+, behind heraldic scaffolding a castle garnished all proper. =Crest= / South African lion rampant ducally gorged or. =Supporters= / dexter, a bull / sinister, a bear, both proper, plain collared +celluloid+ and chained or. [Illustration] [Illustration: EMINENT TRAVELLERS RESCUED WHILE YOU WAIT--WITH EXPEDITION AND DESPATCH] Viscount Stanley of the Congo. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= two dwarfs of the forest of perpetual night proper, journalistically exploited to the nines / =ij= a continent sable, crossed by a small white band issuant from the interior / =iij= a New York herald blowing a trumpet of his own in exultation over repeated columns of copy sensational to the last / =iiij= a missionary of renown discovered in solitude near U-jiji sable. =Crest= / out of a demi-terrestrial globe +southern hemisphere+ a spread-eagle proper emergent in his glory gorged with honorary degrees +south latitude+, bearing in dexter claw an American flag, in sinister an union-jack. =Supporters= / dexter, a neutral monarch crowned, sceptred, and habited proper in a can't-go-free state / sinister, a publisher radiant charged in the arms with a colossal profit on the books of the present viscount. =Second Motto= / 'Mr. Speaker, I presume?' +on very rare occasions+. [Illustration] [Illustration: DONTJE UISCHJE MAGET HET!] Oom Paul, first Earl of Krugersdorp. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= two British cage-birds still vulning themselves on a ground of excessive patriotism / =ij= a pair of scales-of-justice patent controllable and adjustable at will proper / =iij= a lion in cachinnation roaring over a boar charging to absurdity for moral and intellectual damage / =iiij= a dog's-eared 'hym-bok' bound in veldt with covert designs. =Crest= / a reform tortoise of the rand emergent couped at the neck proper disarmed and voided of assets. =Supporters= / dexter, a burgher rampant in piety armed to the teeth / sinister, an antique dopper also in piety habited proper in broadcloth home-made and moth-eaten to the last / both singing in unison falsette the indermiddel from 'simplicita rusticana.' =Second Motto= / 'Who said Rhodes?' [Illustration] [Illustration: ALWAYS READY] Viscount Gatti of the Strand. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= argent a cruet charged extra / =ij= a magnum or tres sec / =iij= six native oyster-shells all passable / =iiij= a cotelette de mouton charged twice over. =Crest= / =i= a waiter passant charged with a salver argent, sinister arm a serviette / =ij= a demi-customer rampant holding in the sinister hand a parapluie vert. =Supporters= / two jeunesses dorees flippant regally gorged or. [Illustration] [Illustration: LET YOUR (SUB) WAYS BE OPEN AND ONLY YOUR PARKS BE SHADY!] The London County Council. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= three music-hall stars blatant voided of guile charged with double-entendres studded azure / =ij= issuant from a 'ring' sinister spotted and exposed proper a balance-sheet doctored and distinctly fichee to the last, all under a cloud sable / =iij= a civic turtle pommelled and affronted proper charged in the middle for betterment with a belabour member poignant in satire or Battersea cough-drop rampant / =iiij= two party-coloured fighting-cocks dancette in fury chronically embroiled proper on a ground litigious in the main. =Crest= / a prude vigilant on the pounce armed with pince-nez and reticule highly proper / in her bonnet an heraldic bee rampant. =Supporters= / on either side an antique civic effigy habited proper up to date, the dexter bearing a special globe gules, and the sinister a star extra-special vert. [Illustration] [Illustration: BE(EF) FIRM AND NO SIDE-SLIPS] The Marquis of Hooley. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= an ecclesiastical service of plate richly chased and displayed or / =ij= a gratuitous advertisement under editorial protest erased quite improper / =iij= a Scotch moor sable dancette the ballet Hooley or hieland Hoolichan / =iiij= two rural advowsons legally acquired over the counter on a human hand proper. =Crest= / an heraldic bovricycle urgent, tyred and inflated all proper, except driving-wheel sinister, which shows signs of puncture on a flint passe. =Supporters= / dexter, a full page puffy in advance announcing new company on a capital of two millions / sinister, a dean complaisant and recipient sable. [Illustration] [Illustration: ALL GOOD THINGS COME FROM ABOVE!] Mr. Justice Darling of Deptford. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= on a bench tory under a chapeau-de-soie glossy a mannikin caustic and mordant in retort / =ij= a ground-plan proper of guidance of the royal courts of justice +enabling a complete stranger to find his way proper to his own court+ / =iij= a fountain of honour spotted and displayed proper on the hop / =iiij= on a ground shady to the last several old hands barry passed over rampant. =Crest= / a legal spark +or 'scintilla juris'+ dapper in his glory elevated ermine. =Supporters= / dexter, the junior b+ar wigged and gowned rampant in frenzy / sinister, the senior b+ar similarly enfuriated arrayed silk for difference. [Illustration] [Illustration: REMEMBER KRUGERSDORP] The Duke of Rhodes. =Arms= / sable, a British lion trippant, collared, chained, and muzzled / charged with a raid over a bordure all improper bearing the British flag depressed. =Crests= / =i= a Boer's head couped at the neck / =ij= a hand grasping a sword sinister. =Supporters= / dexter, a blackamoor semee of pellets and guttees de sang +Loben+gules / sinister, a chartered company trooper gorged with laurels. [Illustration] [Illustration: THROUGH THE PRESS TO THE FRONT!] Hall Caine, first Lord Manxman. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= three human legs conjoined at the thigh and flexed in a triangle garnished and hygienically knickered proper running galy through several editions / =ij= under a flourish proper of trumpets a christian in broadcloth issuant pele-mele from a printing-press / =iij= sable a scapegoat preceded in triumph by a bondsman more or less accurately portrayed / =iiij= two Manx cats passant with sensational tales sported and displayed specially contributed by the present holder of the title. =Crest= / an author of distinction aesthetically habited proper, charged in outrecuidance with a sprig of the Ma+n+x Beerbohm effrontee for reclame. =Supporters= / dexter, an ancient statesman void of guile inveigled drawn and exploited to the full / sinister, a dignitary of the church radiant in approbation scenting purple patches for delivery in a rural diocese arrayed proper to the nines. =Second Motto= / 'And the harvest shall be mine.' [Illustration] [Illustration: MY COUNTRY IS DEAR, BUT LIBERTY IS DEARER] Baron Maple of Tottenham Court. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= five dining-room chairs +a bargain+ / =ij= three race-horses sable just rounding Tottenham Cour--no, Tattenham Corner / =iij= a winter sale +at greatly reduced prices+ proper / =iiij= an art sofa of the very latest, vert, azure, or gules. =Crest= / a pegasus rampant, new wings furnished throughout by Maple & Co. =Supporters= / two shop-walkers monstrant frock-coated sable. [Illustration] [Illustration: MODESTY FORBIDS ME TO BARE THESE ARMS] Louis, first Baron Island de Rougemont. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= a thorough-bred riding-turtle naiant and ridden on the curb, thereon a Swiss gentleman rouge-monte proper in nudity dirigeant with the big toe / =ij= a flight of wombats volant, soaring in desuetude on the wing across a setting sun / =iij= under a chief nunes, adept and ubiquitous in reclame, several gulls of science landed and exploited proper ad nauseam / =iiij= looking up a genealogical tree shady or insufficiently endorsed, an enquiring editor spectacled or +Massingham+ chronically reguardant in scepticism a series of travellers' tails artistically garnished and flaunted in the press. =Crest= / emergent from a southern hemisphere, a lion of adventure jaded and fretty, charged in the mane with a hatchet of romance slung proper. =Supporters= / dexter, a private of the Royal Marines, traditionally facile in credulity, gently closing the alternate eye proper / sinister, an Australasian blackamoor rampant in cannibalism bearing a long bow drawn and flexed to the full. [Illustration] [Illustration: 'APPY 'AMPSTEAD] =Arms= / quarterly / =i= a pyrotechnic carnival displayed proper / =ij= three tropical cocoa-nuts statant sable +three shies a penny+ / =iij= an ancient British barrow, supposed to be charged with body of Queen Boadicea / =iiij= an arry issuant from three bars blatant on a field dotty. =Crest= / an ass's head regardant reproachful, probably charged on the body with a juggins rampant. =Supporters= / dexter, an arriet plumed and garnished somethink like, I tell yer / sinister, a coster arrayed pearly to the nines, charged with a concertina all proper. =Second Motto= / 'A regular beno.' [Illustration] [Illustration: UBIQUE ET SEMPER VIRIDIS (ALL OVER THE SHOP AND ALWAYS FLOURISHING)] Lord Leno. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= three bars wait fretty in the wings / =ij= an heraldic pavilion, or changing-tent proper, outside a pair of heraldic dancing-pumps also fairly accurate / =iij= inside three 'alls a +k+night / =iiij= a professional's brougham passant between two 'alls 'eraced. =Crest= / a lion comique rampant in garb base to the last degree, holding in dexter hand an heraldic parapluie slightly out of repair all proper. =Supporters= / dexter, one of the 'gods' regardant, inclined to repartee / sinister, a denizen of the fauteuils d'orchestre cachinnatory to the last, charged on the breast for distinction with a solitaire of the first water. [Illustration] [Illustration: I BEAT EVEN ABEL WITH THE CANE] Prince Kumar Shri Ranjitsinhji, Duke of Sussex. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= sable a star of India radiant in splendour / =ij= on a field vert several long hops volleyed and despatched proper to the boundary / =iij= on a ground semee with centuries under an heraldic pavilion a champion of renown reguardant in envy bearded to the full and inclined to embonpoint / =iiij= two canards conjoined or double duck proper collared with an eastern coronet wanting employment. =Crest= / an Indian panther of agility capped and sashed azure glancing furtively to leg sinister. =Supporters= / two umpires smocked and habited for distinction proper. =Second Motto= / 'Ad canga runem ibit rangit singe.' [Illustration] [Illustration: "NON H�C SINE NUMINE." (THESE THINGS ARE NOT DONE WITHOUT INSPIRATION!!)] Marie, Countess Corelli. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= on a ground sable of reserve, invincible to the last, a log proper constitutionally averse to being rolled under a column and a half / =ij= in a servants' 'orle, a dog's-eared volume melodramatic and transpontine to the full, circulating urgent / =iij= two wild horses at speed, trainant from a studio a startling portrait of a talented authoress, painted under protest, and exhibited with obvious reluctance by the victim +members of the press and aristocracy most welcome, 4.30 to 7+ / =iiij= hidden under a bushel proper +of plate-glass+ a light of literature, shining in reclame / over all, on an escutcheon of reticence, a trumpet of glory, usually blown automatically, but quite at the service of the press, gratis. =Crest= / a startled fawn, proper, of timidity, seeking shelter urgent, from a wreath of laurels issuant from the suburbs. =Supporters= / dexter, a curate habited sable proper, and guileless to the verge of inanity passant in perusal proper of 'The Botherations of Beelzebub' / sinister, a cook-general proper guttee-de-larmes palpitant in pathos absorbent the 'Sorrers o' Syt'n.' =Second Motto= / 'If I am forgotten, it won't be my fault!' [Illustration: I HOPE I DON'T INTRUDE!] Baron Lecky of Dublin. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= a highly cultured fish out of water guttee de larme / =ij= on a field+-night+, five lozenges emollient for the voice / =iij= on a ministerial bench highly proper a sage of renown souffrant under a surfeit of bores rampant / =iiij= on ground repugnant fretty a lecky-daisy or Irish sensitive plant verdant +green+. =Crest= / an Irish harpy surcharged financially on the pounce proper. =Supporters= / dexter, a British lion +LL.D.+ of literature indented sable, and suitably arrayed in gants-de-suede and shoes elastically sided / sinister, an heraldic camelopard sejant flexed at all joints, academically habited, collared, capped, and gowned. [Illustration] [Illustration: WITHOUT TRUTH NO HOUSEHOLD IS COMPLETE!] Viscount Labouchere of Twickenham. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= spotted before a beak several crafty mendicants exposed proper / =ij= inside a Westminster orle a British lion of rectitude dancette on a charter componee, charged with little games sinister under a cloud proper / =iij= on a ground party-coloured of revolt a primrose of nobility barred and erased / =iiij= in a pillory an heraldic pigott displayed in contumely / over all, on an escutcheon the family coat of Baron Taunton. =Crest= / issuant from a club +National Liberal+, a hawk-eyed lynx rampant in his glory, gorged with a banquet for popularity. =Supporters= / dexter, a classical figure representing Little England suitably attired, her defences somewhat neglected perhaps, statant on the pale of civilisation / sinister, an elector of Northampton proper. =Second Motto= / 'Britannia needs no bulwarks--they come too expensive!' [Illustration] [Illustration: WHY DRAG IN PITT AND CANNING?] George Nathaniel, first Earl Curzon of the Pamirs 'specially granted'. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= under a chief wavery ermine charged with a marquess's coronet for hauteur, a popinjay rising on a ground of undoubted ability / =ij= a Cretan lyre employed during the European concert charged with 'wires' strained improper 'probably wholly inaccurate' / =iij= a sun +of a peer+ in his meridian glory who declines to set upon the British dominions / =iiij= a lion erased, muzzled and depressed, regarding on a bastion the flags of the powers flowing in futility / over all, on an escutcheon of pretence 'as a minister of the crown' a slip verdant. =Crest= / a peacock in pride ruffled and displayed proper rising from a ministerial bench. =Supporters= / on either side an heraldic superior purzon erect omniscient pluming himself on a garb highly proper lined silk throughout. =Second Motto= / 'D.V. I shall go higher.' [Illustration] [Illustration: 'BUT ITS THANK YOU M^R G-BS-N B-WL-S WHEN THE LIBERALS ARE IN POWER'!] Thomas, Viscount Bowles of the Bosphorus. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= an heraldic cap'en or cuttle-fish sapient, holding in sinister tentacle a master-mariner's certificate / =ij= two pairs of ducks, worn alternately for distinction, displayed proper / =iij= on a mount arabesque a diminutive cavalier in his glory urgent +motto, 'Noctem in rotingro'+ / =iiij= an eastern khalif or sultan on a field sanguine, charged with a halo for benevolence. =Crest= / a demi superior purzon erect collared, semee of hurts displaying regal hauteur, charged in the middle with a nautical telescope effrontee. =Supporters= / two sea-dogs or antique 'saults' regardant timbretose, arrayed all proper, couped at the elbow and knee, and the limbs replaced by artifice. [Illustration] [Illustration: WE CAME OVER WITH THE CUNARDERS] Baron Bartlett of Sheffield. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= sable a Turkish imperial star and crescent quixotically flaunted +motto, 'Without stain'+ / =ij= a Swazi chieftain dancette, labelled 'Silomo,' armed and accoutred proper, and habited--well, ahem!--suitably to a tropical climate / =iij= on an heraldic provincial platform a knight rampant and demonstrant charged with a peroration grandiloquent to the last / =iiij= a private chart proper, showing the principal ports and soundings on the coast of Poland, discovered and surveyed by the present baron. =Crest= / an American or spread-eagle bearing the union-jack displayed, over all a sun in splendour which never sets. =Supporters= / dexter, a more or less British lion in fury bearing a fire-arm proper periodically discharged at random / sinister, a Russian bug-bear passe and out at elbows, suitably bound for transport to the wilds of hysteria. =Second Motto= / 'Oh, Swaziland! my Swaziland!' [Illustration] [Illustration: LUDUSCULIS OMNIBUS SUPPAR! (I'M PRETTY WELL UP TO ALL THEIR LITTLE GAMES!)] Henry, first Baron Hawkins of Tryham Fairleigh and Sentensham. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= in a paddock vert, under a chapeau-de-soie jauntily poised with a rake chirpy, a seasoned sportsman of bonhomie endossed turfy to the last +motto, 'Frustum rectissimum!'--'A little bit of all right!'+ / =ij= an historic claimant adipose ortonee, brazen and effrontee in perjury, punctured, pilloried and exposed proper by counsel / =iij= under a judicial bench cosy but ennuyee and chafy in the dark, a fox-terrier proper of renown +since deceased+ constant in fidelity +suggested epitaph, 'Nox et foxterea nihil'+ / =iiij= under a sword of justice suspended in imminence by a hair proper a sinister scoundrel of criminality, chained cringeant and paly, appraised proper from the first, justly doomed and handed over damnee in charge to the jury. =Crest= / out of a wreath of laurels vert, a veteran hawk-eyed eagle of the law, robed sanguine and wigged proper poudree in horse-hair, collared, furred and laced, reguardant in pince-nez. +=Motto= / 'Aquila non capit muscas!'--'Flies don't settle on him!'+ =Supporters= / dexter, a typical counsel of the common-law bar guttee de larmes, robed silk, fairly prostrate in bereavement, and wielding with laudable vigour an heraldic mouchoir / sinister, an old bailey, gorged proper with causes celebres lurid and transpontine to the full, collared freely in advance for preference. [Illustration] [Illustration: 'UBIQUE-ET-�RE PERENNIUS!' (ON ALL THE BOOKSTALLS-AND-FOR THE OLD RIDICULOUS SUM IN COPPERS!)] Mr. Punch. =Arms= / quarterly / =i= in a field of drollery of his own, unique in satire and fertility, an artistic leech of renown / =ij= a knight-veteran of the pencil, or heraldic tenniel proper cartonee, historic in achievement and masterly in technique, most ably seconded sambornois / =iij= two hemispheres proper representing all the world and his wife purpure in mirth, reguardant hilarious a charivari of the town, under a dexterous editorial baton urgent burnandy, going strong / =iiij= in a gallery of the press an alert dog-tobee fleur-de-lucee reguardant watchful and wary a party-coloured parliament-house embattled nightly in session. =Crest= / leaning on a staff of permanence all jules, gorged weekly in conclave and rompy in debate, a hunch-backed polichinelle proper of embonpoint rosy and humpy to the full. =Supporters= / two publishers of geniality arrayed gaudy in their splendour / dexter, a thorough-bassed sportsman agnulee garbed chasy to the nines, adept in counterpoint / sinister, a connoisseur bras-de-buree in heraldry, ardent in golf, conversant with stymies, cleeks, and brassies with an occasional bunker for difference. +=Motto= / 'Sentio eadem!'--''E 'ave my sympafy!'+ =Additional Motto= / 'Si monumentum quaeris circumspice.' * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. Obvious punctuation errors repaired. The original is in a pseudo black-letter font. Some of the original text is in a red color. The caption with each illustration is the motto on the coat of arms. 
42299	----	THE ILLUSTRATED POCKET LIBRARY OF PLAIN AND COLOURED BOOKS THE HISTORY OF JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS What various views of our uncertain State These playful, unassuming Rhymes relate! ANON. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS on his JOURNEY To LONDON.] THE HISTORY OF JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS THE LITTLE FOUNDLING OF THE LATE DOCTOR SYNTAX A POEM BY THE AUTHOR OF THE THREE TOURS WITH TWENTY-FOUR COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON A NEW EDITION METHUEN & CO. LONDON 1903 NOTE This Issue is founded on the Edition published by R. Ackermann in the year 1822 HISTORY OF QUÆ GENUS, ETC. The favour which has been bestowed on the different TOURS OF DOCTOR SYNTAX, has encouraged the Writer of them to give a HISTORY OF THE FOUNDLING, who has been thought an interesting Object in the latter of those Volumes; and it is written in the same style and manner, with a view to connect it with them. This Child of Chance, it is presumed, is led through a track of Life not unsuited to the peculiarity of his Condition and Character, while its varieties, as in the former Works, are represented by the Pencil of MR. ROWLANDSON with its accustomed characteristic Felicity. The Idea of an English GIL BLAS predominated through the whole of this Volume; which must be considered as fortunate in no common degree, if its readers, in the course of their perusal, should be disposed to acknowledge even a remote Similitude to the incomparable Work of _Le Sage_. The AUTHOR. PREFACE This prolonged work is, at length, brought to a close.--It has grown to this size, under rare and continuing marks of public favour; while the same mode of Composition has been employed in the last, as in the former Volumes. They are all equally indebted to MR. ROWLANDSON'S talents. It may, perhaps, be considered as presumption in me, and at my age, to sport even with my own Dowdy Muse, but, from the extensive patronage which DOCTOR SYNTAX has received, it may be presumed that, more or less, he has continued to amuse: And I, surely, have no reason to be dissatisfied, when Time points at my eightieth Year, that I can still afford some pleasure to those who are disposed to be pleased. The AUTHOR. _May 1, 1821._ LIST OF THE PLATES Journey to London _To face the Title_ In search of Service _To face p._ 13 Relating his History to Sir Jeffery " 17 At Oxford " 42 Conflict with Lawyer Gripe-all " 44 With the Sheep-Shearers " 59 Assisting a Traveller " 63 In the Sports of the Kitchen " 75 In the Service of Sir Jeffery Gourmand " 81 With a Quack Doctor " 139 With a Spendthrift " 150 Attending on a Sporting Finale " 162 In the Service of a Miser " 174 With the Money Lenders " 179 Officiating at a Gaming Table " 180 With a Portrait Painter " 188 Gives a Grand Party " 201 Interrupts a Tête à Tête " 203 Committed with a riotous Dancing Party to the Watch-House " 212 Engaged with Jovial Friends, or who sings best " 214 The Party breaking up and QUÆ GENUS breaking down " 220 Turned out of a House which he mistakes for his own " 222 With Creditors " 229 Discovers his Father " 248 THE HISTORY OF JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS OR The Foundling of Doctor Syntax CANTO I Johnny Quæ Genus! what a name To offer to the voice of Fame! (Though she 'tis hop'd may condescend To act as Little Johnny's friend) This may be said, when first the eye Does, by a careless glance, descry The striking range of marshall'd words Which a gay TITLE-PAGE affords. But what's a name, as SHAKESPEARE says, It neither gives nor lessens praise; Adds no fresh odour to the rose, Nor any other flower that blows: Whether with rare or common name The fragrance will be just the same. 'Tis not a title can confer The good or ill of character, _HOWARDS_ have been both beat and bang'd, And some with ancient names been hang'd: Look at a ship with convicts stor'd What noble names are oft on board! It is the living, current course Or of the better or the worse, That stamps, whate'er may be the name, Or with a good or evil fame. But howsoe'er the thing we view Our little Johnny's title's new: Or for the child or for the man, In an old phrase, 'tis _spick_ and _span_. Besides, as most folk do agree To find a charm in novelty, 'Tis the first time that Grammar rule Which makes boys tremble when at school, Did with the name an union crave Which at the font a sponsor gave. But whether 'twas in hum'rous mood Or by some classic whim pursued, Or as, in Eton's Grammar known, It bore relation to his own, Syntax, it was at Whitsuntide, And a short time before he died, In pleasant humour, after dinner, Surnam'd, in wine, the little sinner. And thus, amid the table's roar, } Gave him from good, old _Lilly's_ store, } A name which none e'er had before. } --'Squire Worthy, who, perchance was there, Promis'd the Doctor's wish to share, That want, at least might not annoy The progress of the Foundling Boy. "--Syntax," He said, "We'll try between us To make the fortune of QUÆ GENUS: You feed his mind with learning's food, And I'll protect him if he's good." "While I," said smiling _Dickey Bend_, "Will add my mite as _Johnny's_ friend; Nor shall he want the scraps of knowledge Which he can pick up at my College." --Thus, as they did the bumper ply To Johnny's future destiny, The warm, almost parental heart Of Mrs. Syntax bore its part; And her cheek wore a smile of joy As she beheld th' unconscious boy, Who, careless of the kind debate, Play'd with the cherries on his plate. But such is life's uncertain hour, And such is fate's tyrannic power, That while our comforts smile around The fatal dart inflicts the wound: Thus e'er another month was past Syntax, alas! had breath'd his last. Whene'er he heard the widow sigh QUÆ GENUS wept he scarce knew why: Of a kind friend fate had bereft him, And an odd name was all he left him. His urchin fancy only thought As his enquiring mind was taught, That his adopted sire was gone Where the good go to worlds unknown, To happy regions plac'd on high Above the blue and starry sky, Where, he was with the hope endued, That he should go, if he were good. But the good lady took him home And kept him many a year to come; When he grew up a charming youth, In whom simplicity and truth Did o'er his ev'ry thought preside; While, with such an anxious guide, Life smil'd and seem'd to promise fair, That it would answer to the care Which her affection had bestow'd, To set him on his future road: But when she died poor John was hurl'd Into a bustling, tricking world. He had, 'tis true, all she could leave; She gave him all there was to give; Of all she had she made him heir, But left it to a lawyer's care: No wonder then that he was cheated And her fond anxious hopes defeated: So that instead of his possessing The fruits of her last, dying blessing; He had, as it turn'd out, to rue } What foul rascality could do; } And his own wild vagaries too. } Here, gentle reader, here begins The account of our young Hero's sins: But all which thus far form'd his fate, QUÆ GENUS will himself relate, And what truth bids him to rehearse, My hum-strum Muse records in verse. Thus I proceed,--my humble strain } Has hap'ly pleas'd.----I may be vain,-- } But still it hopes to please again. } * * * * * In this great overwhelming town, Certain receptacles are known, Where both the sexes shew their faces To boast their talents and get places: Not such as kings and courts can give, Not such as noble folk receive, But those which yield their useful aid To common wants or gen'ral trade, Or finely furbish out the show That fashion does on life bestow. Here those who want them may apply For toiling powers and industry, On whom the nervous strength's bestow'd To urge the wheel or bear the load. Here all who want, may pick and chuse Each service of domestic use: The laundry, kitchen, chamber, dairy, May always find an Ann or Mary, While in th' accommodating room, He who wants coachman, footman, groom, Or butler staid, may come and have, With such as know to dress and shave. --The art and skill may here be sought In ev'ry thing that's sold and bought, In all the well spread counter tells Of knowledge keen in yards and ells; Adepts in selling and in buying And perfect in the modes of lying; Who flatter misses in their teens, And harangue over bombazeens, Can, in glib words, nor fear detection, Arrange each colour to complexion: Can teach the beau the neckcloth's tie, With most becoming gravity; Or with a consequential air, Turn up the collar to a hair. --Besides, your nice shop-women too, May at a call be brought to view, Who, with swift fingers, so bewitching, Are skill'd in ev'ry kind of stitching; Can trim the hat, arrange the bonnet, And place the tasty ribbon on it. In short, here all to service bound, May in their various shapes be found. --From such who may display their charms, By smirking looks and active arms, To those in kitchen under ground Amid black pots and kettles found: From such as teach the early rules, Or in the male or female schools, To those of an inferior breed, Who ne'er have known to write or read: From those who do the laws perplex In toil at an attorney's desk, To such as pass their busy lives In cleaning shoes or cleaning knives. To these, perhaps, an added score } Might swell the tiresome list or more, } But here description says, "give o'er." } In such enregistering shop One morn a figure chanc'd to pop; (But here I beg it may be guess'd, Of these same shops it was the best, His hat was rather worse for wear, } His clothing, too, was somewhat bare, } His boots might say, "we've travell'd far." } His left hand an umbrella bore And something like a glove he wore: Clean was his very sun-burnt skin Without a long hair on his chin, While his lank face, in ev'ry feature, Proclaim'd a keen, discerning nature; And when he spoke there was an air } Of something not quite common there: } His manner good, his language fair. } A double cape of curious make, Fell from his shoulders down his back, As if art did the folds provide A very awkward hump to hide; But, if 'twere so, the cunning fail'd, For still the treach'rous bunch prevail'd. By chatting here and talking there, He did his curious mind prepare With all the means by which to gain The end his wishes would obtain;-- Then with half-humble, solemn face, He sought the ruler of the place, Who boasted an establish'd fame, And _Sharpsight_ was his well-known name. But ere we in our way proceed To tell of many a future deed, It may, we doubt not, be as well, To save all guess-work, just to tell, Of the part now upon the stage QUÆ GENUS was the personage. Fortune's dark clouds, for some time past That learned title had o'ercast, And he had borrow'd names in plenty, He might have gone by more than twenty; But now arriv'd in this great town } Without a fear of being known } He thought he might assume his own: } And he had weighty reasons too For what he was about to do, Which, we believe, a future page Will reconcile as reasons sage. At length his statement he began, When thus the conversation ran. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS, IN SEARCH OF SERVICE.] QUÆ GENUS. "'Tis the first time I e'er applied To ask your counsel for my guide: But strange events have brought me here, And at your desk I now appear, But not without the means to pay, For all you do and all you say. And here, good Sir, there's no concealing We must be cautious in our dealing: I want employment that will give Means to be honest and to live. Such is my warm, heart-felt desire, Such is the boon I now require,-- And if you do my wishes aid, I tell you Sir,--_you shall be PAID_." Sticking his pen behind his ear And with a keen enquiring leer, _Sharpsight_ the curious figure view'd, And thus the important talk pursued. SHARPSIGHT. "In answer to your just desire, Permit me fairly to enquire, Which to my ledger is transmitted, For what your qualities are fitted? And, in good faith, I wish to know, What you have done, and what can do? Nay, to whose word I may refer For your good name and character. Such is essential to the case, Such are the first steps to a place, Of whate'er kind that place may be, Whether of high or low degree; Without them no access to station, No character, no situation. --What you assert, you say is true, I'm sure, my friend, I wish so too: For what you ask, as you describe, Is ask'd by all the serving tribe: 'Tis that to which they all pretend, But those I never can commend In honour to my own good name, } And to this room's establish'd fame, } But what the rigid truth may claim. } Though as you look this place around, But common folk are to be found: Coachmen who sit without a whip; Footmen, without a call to skip; Gardeners who have lost their spade, And Journeymen without a trade; Clerks whose pens have long been idle; With grooms quite dull, who ask a bridle; Cooks who exclaim for roast and boil'd, And nurs'ry-maids without a child; Young, sprightly girls who long to clamber From drawing-rooms to upper chamber, Ready the drudg'ry to assail Of scrubbing-brush, and mop and pail; Stout porters who for places tarry, Whose shoulders ache for loads to carry; But character they must maintain, Or here they come, and pay in vain. In short, were I to count them o'er, I could name twenty kinds or more, Who patient and impatient wait About this busy, crowded gate. --But you might higher claimants see Within this crowded registry, Who do not at the desk appear, Nor e'er are seen in person here; But they are charged a larger fee, Both for success and secrecy. Thus you must see how much depends, To gain your object and your ends, That you should truly let me know What you have done,--what you can do; And I, once more, beg to refer To your good name and character." QUÆ GENUS. "I do profess I can engage With noble, simple, and with sage. Though young as yet, I've been so hurl'd About what you would call the world, That well I know it, yet 'tis true, I can be very honest too. --Of the good name which you demand, I tell you--I've not one at hand. Of friends, I once had ample store, But those fair, prosp'rous days are o'er, And I must mourn it to my cost That friends are dead, and gone, and lost; But if to conscience 'tis referr'd, My conscience says, Sir, take his word. --Of character, though I have none, Perhaps, Sir, I can purchase one: I, from a corner of my coat, May just pluck out a pretty note; Which, with a view to gain an end, Might, in an urgent want, befriend. Now, if to place me, you contrive, } Where I may have a chance to thrive; } I'll give this note, if I'm alive. } It may be rather worth your while; Perhaps it may awake a smile." _Sharpsight_ appear'd to look astray, But still he took a glance that way. "I'm not," he said, "to be beguil'd;" Though when he glanc'd that way, he _smil'd_, And, turning to the other side, In a calm, soften'd tone replied. SHARPSIGHT. "Here money is not that way earn'd, My reputation is concern'd; But still I can my duty do, And strive to be a friend to you. _Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand_ you may suit; A Knight renown'd, of high repute, As all who know his name can tell, For being rich and living well; A gen'rous man, but full of whim, And you may be the thing for him: In such a way your case I'll mention As shall awaken his attention. And now, my worthy friend, I pray, Mind well what I'm about to say: Without a creature to refer Or for good name or character, And in a state which seems to be Involv'd in awkward mystery; And I shall add, with your excuse For the remark which I must use, That either accident or nature Has, on your back, plac'd such a feature, That were you e'en my dearest friend, I dare not such an one commend To any lady worth a groat, Unless to serve the dame for nought. --Just turn around, and you may see A Lady in deep scrutiny, With a nice quizzing-glass in hand, Glancing across a liv'ried band; And once a month she does appear On this domestic errand here. If of a maid she wants the use, Her woman comes to pick and chuse; But if a man,--she is so nice, She comes herself to make the choice. A widow rich, who gives high wages, If they should please, whom she engages: But he must be of such a size, And look so well in her keen eyes, That she scarce one in twenty sees Fit to wear her rich liveries. There's one who has a squinting eye-- I know full well she'll pass him by; On one poor rogue she'll turn her back Because his frightful beard is black; Another will not eat her bread Because his frizzled crop is red; These are too weak,--and those too strong, And some an inch too short or long: She'll take the best-made of the bunch, But would be fainting at a hunch. --Thus then, according to my plan, _Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand_ is the man; But to his questions pray reply Without the veil of mystery: Your story from your very youth, If he should ask it--tell the truth; Your errors fail not to unfold-- In telling them be firm, be bold; While you your better virtues own, E'en let your mischiefs all be known, But let not folly blazen forth Whate'er you have of conscious worth; Express the ill with down-cast eye, And veil the good with modesty; Though, if you can with prudence poke Into your tale a funny joke, Fear not, 'tis what his humour loves, As his own daily chit-chat proves; And while he does his bev'rage quaff, At what he says--be sure you laugh. But should you not his service suit, He will not play the churlish brute; And if not gone too far astray, May serve you in some other way. Thus you must see I do my best-- To Fortune I shall leave the rest: But now I see _Sir Jeff'ry_ enter, And I must leave you to your venture." _Sharpsight_ then after humbly greeting This huge man-mountain of good eating, For a few minutes in his ear, Told that which he alone could hear. The Knight then cast a curious eye On Johnny, who was standing by, And just enquir'd from whence he came, What was his age, and what his name; Whom he had serv'd, and why he left The place of which he was bereft? [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS READING TO SIR JEFFERY GOURMAND.] QUÆ GENUS. "If, Sir, it were not thought too free, If I might take the liberty, I would not wish you here to wait While I my strange condition state, As it would take an hour or more, My various story to explore; Tho' 'tis not such, that I should fear The tale to tell or you to hear: You, who will kind allowance make For wants that press, and hearts that ache, And passions that restraint disdain When justice sues, and sues in vain; And 'tis to that tale I refer For name, for age and character, Whom I have serv'd, and what the scene Where my frail manhood's years have been: And if you will but condescend To my young hist'ry to attend, And will not the fond hope deny me, That you, good Sir, will take and try me, And let my rude, misgotten shape From your observance to escape, You will command,--I will obey; When you may see from day to day, How far, Sir, I may make pretence To your good grace and confidence." "Then be it so," the Knight replied, "I trust I may be satisfied. I'm told there's something droll about you, But droll'ry will not make me scout you; Nor do I mind, my friend, the pack, Which you now wear upon your back: We're rather equal on that score-- Your's is behind, and mine's before; Nay, when of both I take a view, Mine is the larger of the two." QUÆ GENUS, with a ready grace, Lifted his hat to hide his face; But still he so arrang'd the screen That his gay visage might be seen; Which seem'd to burst as from the hit Of the fat Knight's spontaneous wit, Who chuckled first, and then made known His further will to laughing John. SIR JEFFERY. "Be punctual;--at the hour of ten We will, to-morrow, meet again; When I will hear, without delay, The whole which you have got to say: But know, you will offend my feeling If you should shuffle from plain dealing. I'm serious now:--on that depends, How far we may continue friends." QUÆ GENUS fail'd not, at the hour, To pass _Sir Jeff'ry's_ chamber door; Where, seated in a cushion'd chair As large as some post-chaises are, And though it may be strange to tell, The Knight contriv'd to fill it well; He seem'd attentive to peruse The pages of the daily news: When, with a look and with a loll, As if he thought on something droll, And in a sort of pleasant glee, He thus commenc'd the colloquy.-- SIR JEFFERY. "First, I must ask to know your name, Your parentage, and whence you came; And when these trifling things are past, The master whom you liv'd with last." QUÆ GENUS. "QUÆ GENUS, is the name I bear." SIR JEFFERY. "QUÆ GENUS? 'tis a name so rare, It never met my ear or eye, If I can trust my memory. I mean the surname that you own, By which your family is known: Not what your sponsor's pedant hammer Beat into use from Lilly's grammar. I want your father's name."-- QUÆ GENUS. "'Twere well! If I that honour'd name could tell; I must suppose that such a creature Was form'd in her own way, by Nature! That I had parents must be true; A father and a mother too, But who they were I never heard, Nor has the secret yet appear'd: They're known to Heaven,--but to me My birth's a perfect mystery: Though this I'm sure that I can tell-- It was not worth a miracle." SIR JEFFERY. "By whom, then, was QUÆ GENUS given?" QUÆ GENUS. "By one who is a saint in Heaven; If ever mortal beings go To bliss above, from ills below: This I believe, nay I would swear, That such is his allotment there; And I would kiss the book I trow, The holy book that tells me so. A Grammar Title was his own, And therefore 'twas--he gave me one: 'Twas DOCTOR SYNTAX, and I'm proud That 'tis to him the name I ow'd." SIR JEFFERY. "I knew him not, but this I know, What pleasure to his works I owe; And you will meet my partial whim-- Prove that you e'er belong'd to him. Treasur'd within that curtain'd case, His works possess a favour'd place; And if the binding aught can tell, They show that I respect them well. Go, take a volume down, and look-- Perhaps, my friend, you know the book." QUÆ GENUS. "I know it well, as you will see, It tells my infant history: This leaf will partly save the task Of answ'ring what you're pleas'd to ask. That little infant whom you see } In basket laid,--that, Sir, is me, } Now grown to sad maturity. } --It was within an Inn of Court, Where busy Lawyers plead and sport; Upon those stairs and thus enclos'd, My new-born figure was expos'd. Of mercy they had little share } Whose cruel purpose plac'd me there, } And left me to the Lawyer's care; } For, had th' Attorney been in town, Who did those very chambers own, I doubt what might have been my fate: The thing was strange--the hour was late; The work-house might be distant far, And dubious been the nursings there. But one, perchance, possess'd the floor When I was laid beside the door, Who would have felt a crying sin Had he not ta'en the stranger in. When I this pictur'd figure view, So innocent--so helpless too, A smile's contending with a tear, On seeing what I now appear: A pretty figure for a casket,-- A little Falstaff in the basket." SIR JEFFERY. "Further of this you need not tell, I know the curious story well; At least as far as there appears In what regards your infant years, And all that did your fate betide, Till your good friend the Doctor died. --But now,--Of _Masters_ name the last Whom you have serv'd for some time past." QUÆ GENUS. "_Masters_, an' please you, I had none, And _Mistresses_, I had but one: Indeed, Sir, it may not be civil, But O, she is a very devil, Which I am sure you will allow Soon as you come her name to know, Tho' oft and oft, and o'er and o'er, You must have heard it spoke before, But not in any pressing hour Have you been subject to her power. It might not be a thing of course But I her servant was perforce, For sure as my name is QUÆ GENUS There seem'd a contract made between us; And her sad service I must rue, If I come not to live with you; With her I must continue still, If it proves not your gen'rous will, To receive me, Sir, from her With what she gives of character, For she sometimes can make pretence To ask heart-felt benevolence." SIR JEFFERY. "This is most strange, I do declare! } But pray what figure did she bear } While you th' unwilling servant were?" } QUÆ GENUS. "An ever-varying form she wore, As ever changeful Proteus bore: But or in motion she, or still; Her ev'ry hour is mark'd with ill. She looks best pleas'd when sorrow flows, She can disdain when virtue bows: Labour and penury and pain And sad disease compose her train, While vain complaint and discontent Form her pale-fac'd establishment." SIR JEFF'RY now let loose a smile As if some fancy did beguile And play upon his easy thought, With light, amusive mischief fraught; And this sarcastic question prov'd The pleasantry _Sir Jeff'ry_ lov'd. "When she was in a spiteful humour, What said she of that _pretty tumour_? The which without a wish to pry, Must sometimes meet her wand'ring eye. Did she ne'er stroke your circling back, Nor e'er salute it with a smack; Or when she was dispos'd to sneer Compare it to a Hemisphere, Deck it with sun and moon and stars, With Venus, Mercury and Mars, Or cover with her liv'ry's robe The Continents of half the Globe; Or like an Atlas, did she flout you As you bore half the world about you, When you might show it as a sight, And gain no common profit by't; Blend with the Panorama's skill, In all the pride of printed bill, Deliver'd with a ready hand Through Leic'ster-fields or in the Strand." The Knight's loud laughter then succeeded,-- And Johnny laughing too, proceeded. "How happy you who thus can joke And wrap me in your funny cloak, Nay, when your mirth, Sir, may think fit, Can fill my crooked back with wit; Can even make me almost proud, Of that self-same prepost'rous load. You may, perhaps, be not aware, But 'tis the truth which I declare, I would serve you for half the wages Which common servitude engages, Provided you would pay the rest In such nice puns and merry jest; I would with joy sign the receipt, For half in cash, and half in wit." "Well, well, go on," _Sir Jeff'ry_ said, While his glad, twinkling eyes betray'd, How much QUÆ GENUS pleas'd his fancy At this so flatt'ring necromancy. --While the Knight his cold coffee quaffing, But still at his own fancies laughing, Exclaim'd, "proceed, but be it known, } I wish the lady's hist'ry done, } And then you will conclude your own." } QUÆ GENUS. "When she first knew me she could see A form as strait as poplar tree, Then I was ruddy, fair and plump, Nor was my back crown'd with a hump, Of which you may not be aware, For hang the hag, she plac'd it there, And you, good Sir, shall shortly know, How to her power the gift I owe." SIR JEFFERY. "The more I hear, the more I see, The more you deal in mystery. This Mistress, sure, of which you tell, Is an INCOMPREHENSIBLE! A widow she, or is she wedded? Or e'er by blushing Hymen bedded?" QUÆ GENUS. "O no, Sir, no.--She is more common Than is the worst street-walking woman. There's scarce a mortal about town To whom this Mistress is not known; And if the track I should pursue, I might add in the country too. But 'tis a keen wit that unravels The wide extent of all her travels; Nor time nor space has she to spare, She's here and there and ev'ry where. Though if I at a guess may venture Beneath this roof she will not enter, Unless, as you the chance may see, The saucy minx comes here with me." SIR JEFFERY. "But one more question I've to ask, Ere you perform your promis'd task, And tell me from all shuffling free, The items of your history, Up to the moment when you stand A candidate for my command. And now QUÆ GENUS tell the name Of this same universal dame, Whom you, poor fellow, have been serving, And, as you state it, almost starving. --If in your tale she does agree, It is a tale of mystery; Some fairy fable, I suppose, That paints, in emblems, human woes, And does in figur'd words, apply To your peculiar history. It is not in the usual way That such as you their state display; It is not in such borrow'd guise That they unfold their histories, With here and there a little bit Of droll'ry to shew off their wit; It is not in this form I see Those who may wear my livery; But your's I feel a diff'rent case From those who come to seek a place; Or when the register may send him, With, 'Sir, we beg to recommend him.' I now bethink me of the sage Who lov'd you in your tender age; And when I see you have a claim } To share the page that marks his fame, } SYNTAX, that highly honour'd name } A passport is, my good QUÆ GENUS, To the familiar talk between us. From that relation which you share, No longer stand, but take a chair, And now proceed, without delay, To close the tale in your own way. "And once again, I ask the name Of this so universal dame; What is her fortune,--where she lives, And the strange means by which she thrives? Where she acquires her wond'rous power, Which you describe, o'er ev'ry hour? Where it began, my curious friend; Then tell me, pray, when it will end." With due respect, as was requir'd, He took the chair for he was tir'd, And calling truth to be his guide, He thus in solemn tone replied. QUÆ GENUS. "MISS-FORTUNE is the name she bears, Her rent-roll's form'd of sighs and tears: She doth not live or here or there, I fear, Sir, she lives ev'ry where. I'm sure that I know not the ground Where her sad influence is not found; But if a circle should appear } Beyond her arbitrary sphere, } I feel and hope, Sir, it is here. } --This worn-out coat, Sir, which you see, Is the kind Lady's livery: I once was fat, but now am thin, Made up of nought but bone and skin; I once was large but now am small, From feeding in her servants'-hall, And the hump I shall ever bear Is an example of her care. As for the blessed Dame's beginning, I've heard that it began in sinning, And I have learn'd that she will end When this vile world has learn'd to mend; But if we guess when that may be, We may guess to eternity." "MISS-FORTUNE!! Heav'ns! O thus she's nam'd," The Knight, with uplift eyes exclaim'd. "O the dull head, not to have seen What the _Finale_ must have been!" Then clasping hands and chuckling first Into a bellowing laugh he burst, Though not to his broad face confin'd, But on each side, before, behind, It seem'd as if his whimsies bound him, In a joyous circle round him: His belly trembles, his sides ache, And the great-chair scarce stands the shake. 'Twas a hoarse, deep bass, note of mirth, To which his fancy thus gave birth; And Johnny fail'd not to come after An octave higher in his laughter, While his delight appear'd to speak In somewhat of a treble squeak.-- Thus, for some minutes they enjoy'd The _Duo_ which their nerves employ'd. _Sir Jeff'ry_ shook his head awhile, Then spoke with a complacent smile. "Though in a diff'ring point of view, } I know her just as well as you; } And hang the hag she plagues me too. } Need I, good fellow, need I tell ye, She deck'd me out with this great belly; 'Tis she, by way of friendly treat, Has given this pair of gouty feet; Nay sometimes when her whim commands _Miss-Fortune_ robs me of my hands: 'Tis she with her intention vile That makes me overflow with bile; And tho' my table's spread with plenty Of ev'ry nice and costly dainty, She sometimes envies me a bite, And takes away my appetite. She does not meddle with my wealth, But then she undermines my health; She never in my strong box looks, Nor pries into my banker's books; My ample fortune I contrive To guard with care and make it thrive, I check her power to destroy it, But then she says, 'you sha'n't enjoy it; I will take care you shall endure The ills and pains gold cannot cure.' Or leagu'd with wrinkled age at least, She strives to interrupt the feast. --But with her malice I contend, Where she's a foe, I'm oft a friend, And, with the weapons I can wield, I sometimes drive her from the field. Nay when she does the victim clasp, I snatch it from her cruel grasp. And thus you see, or more or less, I make her prove my happiness." QUÆ GENUS. "There was indeed a time when I Knew her but by warm sympathy With those who did her burthen bear, Which I have since been forc'd to share; But this, at least, I'm pleas'd to own, And 'tis a truth to you well known, Nay, this I'll say, in others' breast, Where'er the virtue is possess'd, She does, as I have felt, and see, Awake benign Humanity." SIR JEFFERY. "And she shall 'wake it now, QUÆ GENUS! An instant contract's made between us. I break that which she made with you, And gladly you abjure it too. I have no doubt, my friend, to venture; Into my service you shall enter, Your ills at present shall be o'er, _Miss-Fortune_ you shall serve no more. At least, I say, while you contrive By your good deeds with me to live: I'll save you from your late disaster And change your mistress for a master. I want no bowings, no grimaces, No blessings that I've chang'd your places. --I now remind you to relate All that has been your various fate, Nay, all that you have ever known, Since time and freedom were your own. --I tell you, _Johnny_, speak the truth; I know what follies wait on youth: I know where erring passion leads, On what a slipp'ry ground it treads: I can remember that I fail'd When the gay, tempting world prevail'd; Nor shall I now the thought conceal, Which reason tells me to reveal. What Heaven forgives should be forgiven By all who look with hope tow'rds Heaven: But I expect not faults alone, } I trust in what you may have done, } There may work out a little fun. } --If I guess right your lively eye } Was not exactly made to cry, } But sometimes call forth pleasantry; } Of diff'ring thoughts to ope the vein, Let pleasure forth or lessen pain. But still do not your mischiefs hide, Throughout your tale, be truth your guide; Nor make _Miss-Fortune_ though she starves, Worse, by the bye, than she deserves, For after all her misdeeds past, The Dame may do you good at last. --Deceive me, and you will offend, Deceive me, and you lose a friend: Try to deceive me and again You'll join _Miss-Fortune's_ pale-fac'd train. Proceed then, and, without a fear, } Pour thy misdoings in my ear } And I will with indulgence hear. } I'll not discard you for the evil, Though you should prove a little devil, Though to your hump you should not fail, To add your horns and hoofs and tail; Though you should prove a bag of sin, And hump'd without be hump'd within, Here you shall have your home, your food; Kick at _Miss-Fortune_, and be good." He spoke, then rang the shrill-ton'd bell, Which did its well-known message tell.-- A tray appear'd, and well prepar'd, Which _Johnny_ with _Sir Jeff'ry_ shar'd. When, waving his beflannell'd hand, The knight thus utter'd his command. "And now, thou little Imp of Sin, Without a compliment begin." QUÆ GENUS. "The Volume that now lies before ye, Tells you thus far, Sir, of my story; Which would be upon this occasion A work of supererogation; Though I shall beg leave to repeat, I'm not the new-born of the street; But as it never yet appear'd, At least, as I have ever heard, To such unknown, unfather'd heirs, I am a Foundling of _the stairs_, Without a mark upon the dress, By which there might be form'd a guess, Whether I should the offspring prove Of noble or of vulgar love; Whether thus left in Inn of Court Where Lawyers live of ev'ry sort; Love in a deep full-bottom clad, Gave me a grave black-letter'd dad, Who, if 'twere so, might not agree To have a child without a fee; And, therefore, would not plead my cause, But left me to the vagrant laws Of chance, who did not do amiss, But sued in _Formâ Pauperis_, And, in a Court where Mercy reign'd, The little Foundling's cause was gain'd: SYNTAX was judge, and pity's power Sav'd me in that forsaken hour. He with that truly Christian spirit, Which Heaven gave him to inherit, Fondly embrac'd me as his own; But ere three transient years were gone, I lost my friend, but found another, A father he, and she, a mother; For such at least they both have prov'd, And as their child the stranger lov'd. O, rest her soul!--to her 'tis given To share his happy lot in Heaven. I seem'd to be her utmost pride, And Johnny trotting by her side, Fill'd with delight her glancing eye In warm affection's sympathy. This fond, this kind, this fost'ring friend Did to my ev'ry want attend; Her only fault, she rather spoil'd As he grew up, the darling child; But though her care was not confin'd Or to his body, or his mind, Though, with a fond parental view, She gave to both th' attention due, Ne'er would she her displeasure fix On his most wild, unlucky tricks. So that at church he held grave airs, Pronounc'd Amen, and said his pray'rs, And on a Sunday evening read A sermon ere they went to bed, Throughout the week, he was quite free For mischief with impunity. --If on the folk I squirted water, How she would shake her sides with laughter; If the long-rotten eggs were thrown At Mary, Sally, or at Joan; If any stinging stuff was put Into the hasty trav'ller's boot; If the sly movement of the heel Should overturn the spinning-wheel. --If holly plac'd beside the rose Should wound the gay sheep-shearer's nose, Or 'neath the tail a thorn-bush pricking, Should set Dame Dobbins' mare a kicking, And overthrow the market load, While beans and peas o'erspread the road, If the poor injur'd made complaint To Madam of her wily saint, She would reply, 'pray cease your noise, These are the tricks of clever boys, It is my pleasant Johnny's fun, Tell me the damage, and have done.' --When I became a rosy boy, My growth encreas'd her growing joy; But now such gamesome hours were o'er I play'd my childish tricks no more. My little heart 'gan to beat high, And with heroic ardor try The tempting danger to pursue, And do what others could not do: I sought to climb the highest tree, Where none would dare to follow me, Or the gay sporting horse to ride, Which no school-fellow dare bestride. My feats were sometimes rather scaring, But the Dame lov'd to see me daring; As by my running, leaping, walking, I us'd to set the parish talking, And, to the good old women's wonder, I fear'd not lightning nor thunder. She thought, in future time, my name } By some achievement bold, might claim } A loud blast in the trump of fame. } "When, as a youth, how great the charm To lean upon his willing arm, Or when she wish'd to take the air, To guide her poney in the chair; To fetch her book, to place her stool, Or bear the _laden ridicule:_ To chat, to laugh, to sing, to read, As whims or wishes might succeed: And I am proud to make it known Her ev'ry pleasure was my own; And all to please her I could do, Was joy, as it was duty too. "Here now my better story ends-- So far, I trust, Sir, we are friends: But I could almost wish me dumb, When I must tell of what's to come." _Sir Jeffery_, half-laughing, said, "_Johnny_, I pray, be not afraid, Whate'er your luckless wit has done, I swear I will set down in fun; By me, your sins shall be forgiven As sure as Mercy is in Heaven." QUÆ GENUS. "Then, at your pleasure I proceed, Nor will I hide a single deed; There is but one I doubt to own, But that to you shall be made known, And will with you securely rest As in my own uneasy breast; Though I'm afraid of vengeful laws As I believe without a cause. Indeed, I have contriv'd to play The very fool for many a day, But brief, be sure, I'll strive to be In this my early history. "And here, an' please you, Sir, begins The tale of my mishaps--the chapter of my sins." CANTO II It may seem queer when 'tis the will Of Fate, its wishes to fulfil, To call the culprit to the bar, One born beneath a luckless star, And from his urging conscience tell The truths that on his mem'ry dwell, When, like a checquer they display The black and white to open day. Thus, as the truth he's bound to state, The former may preponderate; While, in a happy moment bold, He may some conscious good unfold, Nor can the awkward task refuse Both to applaud and to accuse. --Such thoughts as these might be the cause, Why poor QUÆ GENUS made a pause. "Well," said _Sir Jeff'ry_, "pray go on, Or never will your tale have done: I've told you, and you must attend; You tell your story to a friend, Who will, whatever may appear, With kindness and compassion hear." QUÆ GENUS. "Your pardon, Sir, I will proceed, Nor stop till I've perform'd the deed. --Thus, so far Fortune deck'd with smiles The season which our youth beguiles, And gave the hope of added measure To gay delight and solid pleasure: But while the merry song went round, And to the tabor's lively sound, The village did in cadence beat, With all its many twinkling feet, Pale Fate appear'd, in cypress wreath, And call'd out for the DANCE OF DEATH: When my dear friend, who gave the feast, And cheer'd with smiles each happy guest, Was borne away, I scarce knew why, But I was told,--it was to die. And soon, alas! I wond'ring saw All govern'd by a man of law, With whom she seldom converse held, But when her private cares compell'd Some petty, trifling, legal aid, Which coolly she discharg'd and paid. 'Twas by this man's exulting side I walk'd along and sobb'd and sigh'd When she was carried to the bourne From whence we mortals ne'er return. --I was by all around approv'd, And by the better neighbours lov'd, While I in ev'ry eye could see The pity that was felt for me. By her death-bed he held the quill That made him master of her will, While a round sum was written there To pay him for the tender care Which he of her sweet boy would take, For her's and her dear husband's sake. Husband! whom this same man of law, This forging rascal never saw: Indeed by many it was thought He put his name where he ought not. It much surpriz'd each curious friend, And quite astonish'd _Doctor Bend_, Whose rev'rend titles should have been Where the foul lawyer's name was seen. Wrong was suspected, Counsel had, But no objection could be made, And by all forms of law allied, The will was shap'd and testified: The attorney to his duties swore, So he became Executor. 'Tis true she left her all to me, But here and there a legacy; Though, such were this strange will's commands Through _Lawyer Gripe-all's_ grasping hands, All was to pass and there remain Till I the age of man attain; And if I chanc'd to die before,-- The lawyer was to take the store. All saw, or all believ'd the cheat, But the law veil'd the base deceit, And when the doctor came to see How justice might be done to me, On due reflection, thought it fit, As things were order'd, to submit; Told me, at present, to be quiet, To seem content, nor breed a riot, But when I truely crav'd a friend, I knew the home of _Dickey Bend_; Then with affection's warmth caress'd me, And, with a parent's blessing, bless'd me. "From that dear cottage now I mov'd, Where I such tender fondness prov'd; From a calm scene of taste refin'd, And all that could improve the mind; Where daily blessings were bestow'd From all the humble neighbourhood; Where heart-felt goodness was employ'd, And social harmony enjoy'd;-- From these QUÆ GENUS was transferr'd To where the daily curse was heard, Where the law's promise was delay'd, And money for injustice paid; Or a loud, base, malignant joy, Which the law's triumphs might employ;-- To an old house that stood alone, With ivy and with moss o'ergrown, And where the practiser of laws Did his foul deeds 'mid bats and daws; Nay, which, as fame reports, was worse, The house was saddled with a curse, That _Gripe-all_, in the law's despite, Had robb'd some widow of her right, And, by his cutting and his carving, Had got the house--and left her starving. "Oft I my loss, in secret, wept, And when my eyelids should have slept, Nay, when those eyelids should have clos'd And I in strength'ning sleep repos'd, They remain'd wakeful oft and shed Their dews upon my troubled bed. Though Master _Gripe-all_, it was known Shew'd me a kindness not his own; And did with all indulgence treat me, As the best means, at length, to cheat me. He strove my early grief to soothe, Call'd me his dear, delightful youth; Gave me a pretty horse to ride, With money in my purse beside; Let me employ the taylor's art To deck me out and make me smart, Let me just study when I pleas'd, Nor e'er my mind with learning teas'd. But still a gnawing discontent Prey'd on me wheresoe'er I went. --Of Phillis too I was bereft, One real pleasure that was left: A fav'rite spaniel of my friend, That did on all my steps attend, At eve was frisking, fond and gay, } But on the sad succeeding day, } A poison'd, swollen form it lay. } It might be chance, but while I griev'd, The following letter I received, Which was thrown o'er a hedge the while I sat half weeping on a stile. The writer I could never tell; But he who wrote it meant me well; And I've no doubt that it contain'd The thoughts which through the country reign'd." LETTER. "_I'm a poor man, but yet can spell, } And I lov'd Madam SYNTAX well: } --But I've a sorry tale to tell. } Young 'Squire you're in the Devil's hands, Or one who yields to his commands, And who, I'm certain, would be bold In bloody deeds, if 'tis for gold. Halters he fears, but the base wretch Fears no one mortal but JACK KETCH: Yet what with quirks and such like flaws, He can contrive to cheat the laws_: _Though Madam's hand the will might sign, It is no more her will than mine. Some say, as she lay on her bed, The deed was sign'd when she was dead, And I've heard some one say, whose name I must not give to common fame, He'd lay ten pounds and say, 'have done,' You liv'd not on to twenty-one; And if you die before, 'tis known, That Madam's money's all his own. Nay, how he did the will compose, 'Tis Beelzebub alone who knows! He in a lonely mansion lives, But there the cunning villain thrives: Yes, he gets on, as it appears, By setting people by the ears: Though I have heard NAN MIDWIFE say, Who sometimes travels late that way, That 'neath the yew, near the house wall, Where the dark ivy's seen to crawl, A cat she once saw which was half As big as any full-grown calf, And with her tail beat down the bushes, As if they were but slender rushes; Has often felt sulphureous steam, And seen bright lines of lightning gleam. These things the good, old woman, swears She sometimes smells and sees and hears, While thus all trembling with affright, She scarce can get her bald mare by't. --Run off, young 'Squire, for much I fear You'll be cut off, if you stay here. My service thus I do commend, From, Sir, your very humble friend: And hope you will take in good part, What comes from poor but honest heart!_" "This plain epistle told no more Than had been hinted at before; But though I was too bold to fear That danger of such kind was near, Yet still the honest counsel brought My mind to a new range of thought. "One day as I was riding out, Prowling the country round about, A guide-post stood, in letter'd pride, Close by the dusty high-road side: With many towns for passage fam'd, _Oxford_ upon its points was nam'd, Which instant call'd me to attend To my kind patron _Doctor Bend_: And then there 'rose within my breast A thought that reason did suggest, And not th' effect of boyish whim, '_Th' Attorney quit and fly to him_.'-- --Soon after, by a lucky chance, I heard what made my heart to dance, That _Cerberus_ would be from home, At least for sev'ral days to come, Though, when of me he took his leave, He said, 'expect me home at eve, But, as talk may the way beguile,' He added, 'ride with me a mile.' --This was the very thing I wish'd, For now I felt the fox was dish'd. He rode on first and bade me follow, 'Twas then that I began to hollow; I had but one _white lie_ to tell And all things would be going well. I said it was my guardian's whim That I should make the tour with him, And ask'd for a clean shirt or so As I had such a way to go. Thus my great-coat, most closely roll'd, Did all the useful package hold, And to the saddle strongly tied I was completely satisfied, As nought appear'd, thus pack'd together, But a protection from the weather, So that the lawyer's lynx's eye Was clos'd on curiosity: For Madam Gripe-all's ready care Did, to my wish, the whole prepare. Indeed, whatever she might be, Her kindness never fail'd to me. She frequently would call me son, And say she lov'd me as her own; Nay, when the clock struck, she would say, 'Kiss me as often, dear, I pray As that same clock is heard to strike, And oft'ner, dearest, if you like.' Though such favour ne'er was shown, } But when we both were quite alone, } And seldom when the clock struck one. } Her fondness I could well have stinted, For, to say truth, she smelt and squinted: But I remember'd that she cried, When my poor, little Phillis died. "I felt my airing rather droll, Jogging with _Gripe-all_ cheek-by-jowl, And hearing him, with no great awe, Expound the secrets of the law. --When arriv'd at seven miles' end He smil'd and said, 'Good bye, my friend: Now homewards you will turn and tell, That thus far you have left me well.' I left him with a hope, how vain! I ne'er might see his face again. My spur did sprightly poney goad Till I had got into the road Which did to Oxford's city lead, When I restrain'd my foaming steed, And, calmly pacing on my way, Ere _Great Tom_ toll'd the following day, I had embrac'd my rev'rend friend And kindest patron, _Doctor Bend_. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS AT OXFORD.] "I told a simple, artless tale, That seem'd completely to prevail, As I beheld his face the while Beam with a kind, approving smile. ''Tis a bold trick,' the Doctor said, 'Which you, my lively spark, have play'd, But since to College you are come, I'll try to make the place your home; Where I should hope you need not fear To be cut short in your career; I think, at least, we may engage To keep you safe till you're of age, When I shall leave you to the struggling With _Gripe-all's_ artifice and juggling: But still the cunning lawyer knows I have good friends 'mong some of those Who lead the bar or have a seat Where the keen eye detects a cheat. He will, I doubt not, swear and curse, Nay, he may say you've stole his horse; But if he meets with no disaster, In two days he shall see his master, And John will have a strict command To give a letter to his hand Which I shall with due caution write Before I seek my bed to-night, And if my mental eye sees clear Will fix my friend QUÆ GENUS here.' John met the lawyer on the road, Just as he reach'd his own abode, And ere at home he could have heard Of my escape a single word: Told him at once all he could tell, That I at Oxford was, and well, Where as I stay'd, I had of course, With many thanks return'd his horse, John said, he rather look'd confus'd As the epistle he perus'd. --Whether it bore a kind request I should with ALMA MATER rest, Or any hint that might apply To the High Court of Chancery: If soothing it contain'd or threat, } I never knew or I forget,-- } With all submission it was met. } To all it ask'd he did agree, And sent his kind regards to me, While he his counsel did commend Not to run off from _Doctor Bend_, Nor e'er be govern'd by the whim That made me run away from him. "Thus soon in Scholar's cap and gown, } I was seen saunt'ring up and down } The High-Street of fair Oxford Town. } And though I stood not first in fame, I never bore an idler's name. I was content, nay 'twas my pride The Doctor ne'er was heard to chide, Which, as your Oxford youths can tell, Was getting onward rather well. My friends, the WORTHIES, near the Lake, Lov'd me for DOCTOR SYNTAX' sake, And, free from e'en a speck of care, I pass'd a short-liv'd Summer there. --But time, as it is us'd, roll'd on, And I, at length, was twenty-one. "I now became a man of cares To bear the weight of my affairs, To know my fortune's full amount, And to arrange a clear account Between the vile, rapacious elf, The _Lawyer Gripe-all_ and myself. --No sooner to the place I came, } Soon as was heard my well-known name, } The bells my coming did proclaim, } And had I stay'd the following day, I would have made the village gay! Thus _Gripe-all_ was full well prepar'd And put at once upon his guard. I went unwittingly alone To claim my right and ask my own, Though arm'd, to cut the matter short, With an enliv'ning dose of Port, While he was ready to display The spirit of the law's delay. --A step, he said, he could not stir Without Baptismal Register, And many a proof he must receive, Which well he knew I could not give; And till these papers I could shew, He must remain in _Statu quo_. But still, as a kind, gen'rous friend, And from respect to _Doctor Bend_, He would, though cash did not abound, Advance me then _four hundred pound_. I took the notes and thought it best To wait the settling of the rest; But soon I saw, as I'm alive, That I had sign'd receipt for _five_. My fingers caught the fraudful paper, At which he 'gan to fume and vapour, And let loose language full of ire, Such as 'you bastard, rascal, liar,' On which I caught him by the nose, And gave the wretch some heavy blows, Nay, as the blood ran down his face, I dash'd the ink all in his face, So that his figure might have done E'en for the pit of Acheron. Inky black and bloody red Was o'er his ghastly visage spread, As he lay senseless on the floor, And, as I then thought, breath'd no more. --The office, now a scene of blood, Most haply in the garden stood, So that our scene of sanguine riot Did not disturb domestic quiet: The notes were in my pocket stor'd, And the receipt was in the hoard; But as I now believ'd him dead, I thought of being hang'd--and fled. Nor did I make the whisky wait Which then stood at the garden gate. The driver who there held the reins, Took me through many secret lanes And woodland roads, that might evade Pursuit, if any should be made. He had an humble play-mate been When I was sportive on the green; But now, like me, to manhood grown, Was as a skilful driver known; And would have gone to serve QUÆ GENUS Though fire and water were between us. I told him all the fears I felt, And how I had with _Gripe-all_ dealt; Nay, urg'd him, if I were pursued, } To cheat the blood-hounds, if he could, } All which he mainly swore he would. } Nay, hop'd I'd given him such a drubbing, As to send him Beelzebubbing; Though, first or last, he sure would go To his relations down below. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ CONFLICT BETWEEN QUÆ GENUS & LAWYER GRIPE-ALL.] "Thus as we talk'd a mail-coach pass'd, And as I could not go too fast, I found, perchance, an empty seat, And thus I made a quick retreat; Nay should, in eight and forty hours, By the wheels' ever-rolling powers, Have a secure retirement found, Safe from pursuit, on Scottish ground. But as Misfortune, it is said, Calls in associates to her aid, And, indeed, is seldom known To pay her visits all alone; So either from the sultry weather, Or anxious thoughts, or both together, I was stopp'd short in my career, By intermitting fits severe Of heat and cold: a Galen came, And Julep was the good man's name, For truly good he prov'd to me In skill and in humanity. ''Tis not,' he said, 'disease alone, Which various symptoms have made known, But they're encreasing as I find, By a disturb'd and anxious mind, And if that cannot be subdued, Med'cine will do but little good.' I therefore, my distresses told, In short, my story did unfold, While, as I spoke, in his kind eye, I saw the tear of sympathy, And did beneath his roof receive The care that pitying skill could give. "The fever wag'd a painful strife, A struggling chance 'tween Death and Life, That play'd upon my yielding spine, Which did to outward curve incline: I felt the mark would ne'er forsake Its cruel seat upon my back; I bent beneath the foul disaster That ne'er would yield to any plaister: Nor medicine, nor knife can cure it, And must struggle to endure it. Thus when restor'd to health and vigour, I was become a crook-back'd figure: My former round and healthful face Had lost its plump, its rosy grace, And was reduc'd from this same cause To pale and lean and lantern jaws, That none who once QUÆ GENUS knew Would recollect him on the view; Nor e'en would recognition wait Though he should pass by _Gripe-all's_ gate. When in the glass I chanc'd to view, } The figure I now scarcely knew, } I shudder'd and despis'd it too. } --'At length,' said _Julep_, 'I commend, Ere you depart, a worthy friend, A lawyer too, nay, do not start, Whose well-stor'd head and honest-heart, Throughout his life were ne'er disjoin'd, And in his practice are combin'd The cause of truth and right to aid; Who ne'er has heard the poor upbraid His conscious dealings, while 'tis known, The wealthy do his virtues own. Thus, as your fate has been accurs'd, Of legal dealers, with the worst; You now may, as by all confess'd, Obtain good counsel from the best. "On such a character intent, To Lawyer _Make-peace_ thus I went, And told my curious story o'er As I have told it you before. With a keen look my face he ey'd, And in a gentle tone replied. 'If the good man you thus have bang'd, You may contemplate being hang'd; But, as the case to me appears, I trust you may dismiss your fears; For even now you do not know What evil follow'd from the blow; And though some blood may have been spill'd, It follows not the man was kill'd: Besides, whatever ill was done, There was no witness, no not one To prove which of you was in fault, Who first provok'd or gave th' assault; And if, my friend, you had not fled You need not fear, though he were dead. --No advertisement has appear'd To state the crime, as I have heard, And surely I've the means to know If any measures had been so. But still, remember, I advise That you move under a disguise, 'Till time and chance have drawn aside That veil that does these threat'nings hide, Which, in your present dubious state, May on your wary footsteps wait. Change your dress and change your name, For neither now must be the same.' QUÆ GENUS. 'My dress and name I'll do anon, The fever all the rest has done; For Doctor _Bend_ I would defy } The fondled Foundling to descry, } In his mis-shapen misery. } JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS, now adieu! JACK PAGE I substitute for you!' LAWYER MAKE-PEACE. 'You have good friends whom you can trust, Who to misfortune will be just, They will, I doubt not, let you know, How you must act and what to do. And much I think you have been wrong, To have with-held your pen so long. Obey me now in all I've said; Be secret and be not afraid.' "He spoke, and, in the kindest way, Urg'd me to make no more delay; And when I sought to give the fee; 'No, no,' he said, 'to such as thee For mere good words I'm never paid;-- This is my way of plying trade. When you have made a fair escape From this unlucky, wretched scrape, And when you are again restor'd To your own happy bed and board; When from all thraldom you are free, Then, if it suits, remember me.' "My notes were sew'd up in my coat, For JULEP would not take a groat. 'When you reach home,' he kindly said; 'Like his friend MAKE-PEACE, I'll be paid.' Thus I set off, as was my plan, Guis'd as a trudging, trav'lling man, And in his journey going on To seek his fate in London town. My needfuls in an oil-cloth sack, Were buckled to my wretched back, And late at night when the full moon In an unclouded brightness shone, I left those gen'rous friends behind Which such as me so seldom find: A Galen, with that goodness fraught, Who gave his skill and drugs for nought; And an attorney, whose great aim Was to put roguery to shame; Nay, whose superior virtues tell The Law can shew a _Miracle_. "You must, _Sir Jeff'ry_, often see } The strange effects of vanity; } Another you will find in me. } You'll scarce believe as I relate The folly which I now must state: That I've been such a silly elf I now can scarce believe myself: And I could wish I dare conceal What duty bids me to reveal. --Did not calm prudence whisper now To my existing state to bow, To tell it all to such a friend As I had found in _Doctor Bend_, Or a quick pilgrimage to make } To Worthy-Hall beside the Lake, } Where, for dear _Doctor Syntax'_ sake, } The troubled _Foundling_ would receive All that protecting care could give. This was the counsel _Make-peace_ gave, A lawyer who was not a knave; Who would advise without a fee, And felt for human misery. --This Reason said in lessons strong, As I pac'd my still way along, When the dull sound of my own feet And Philomela's sonnet sweet Did on the gen'ral silence break, And seem'd to keep the night awake. Then VANITY sat pick-a-pack Perch'd on the hump upon my back, And whisper'd into either ear, 'Such humbling counsels do not hear. Where poor QUÆ GENUS has been known His alter'd form must ne'er be shown: With this sad shape he never can Hold himself forth a gentleman: No art can furnish you a cloak To hide from pity or from joke. If passing on a river's ridge, Or, perchance lolling o'er a bridge, You gaze upon the stream below Whose crystal mirror's seen to flow, Would not the picture meet your eye Of your own sad deformity? At Oxford you would be the talk Of the High-street or Christ-Church-walk, While many quizzing fools look round To view your rising back begown'd. --How would you bear the wond'ring ken Of the good folk of Sommerden, While they with pitying looks lament The once straight form, but now so bent! Then leave the world where you have been, Where I would be no longer seen, Nor let the jealous eye compare, What you once was with what you are. Might I advise, I'd sooner die } Unknown, in humble privacy, } Again,' said whisp'ring vanity, } 'Than e'er appear where I was known For graces which were then my own, That pity or that scorn might point At such a form, so out of joint.' "I need not say how many days I sought the bye and secret ways, For ever list'ning to the tongue } That whisper'd soft and pleaded strong, } To set each better feeling wrong. } Hence I resign'd myself to chance, Left fortune, friends, inheritance, And madly felt that I was hurl'd Thus mark'd to wander through the world. To snatch at, and at once receive, Whate'er the world might chance to give. 'Twas not a whimsy of the brain, } That did the idle scheme sustain, } 'Twas something which I can't explain. } All feeling center'd in the pack That had thus risen on my back; And as I felt the burden there, It seem'd the seat of ev'ry care, Of ev'ry painful thought brimfull, Like OLD PANDORA'S _Ridicule_. But as every single note } Which I from _Gripe-all's_ grasp had got, } Was still secure within my coat, } I had sufficient means and more To travel all the kingdom o'er With staff in hand, and well-shod feet, } And oil'd umbrella form'd to meet } The show'rs that might my passage greet. } One pocket did a bible hold, The other held the story told, Which good Æneas did rehearse To Dido, in immortal verse; While from a loop before descended A flute that oft my hours befriended: Thus I with verse, with prose or fist, Was scholar, fiddler, methodist. As fit occasion might demand, I could let Scripture Phrase off-hand, Or fine re-sounding verses quote, Or play a tune in lively note. Thus qualified to cut and carve, I need not fear that I should starve; While in some future lucky stage Of my uncertain pilgrimage, I might have hopes, remov'd from strife, To be a fixture for my life. "Such was the wild, fantastic scheme Such was the strange distracted dream, That, stranger still, rose from the pack Which chance had fix'd upon my back. Of friends forgetful, 'twas my plot That I by friends should be forgot.-- I seem'd to wish that I were thrown Upon some island yet unknown, Where crooked figure is the feature Of all the living, reas'ning nature; And where deformity would be A shape of perfect symmetry; Which SWIFT would not have fail'd to spare, Had his bold fancy wander'd there, And _Lemuel Gulliver_ had been The visitor of such a scene. "In this same state I wander'd on, Grumbling and doubting and alone, Though some encouragement I met Which made me whilom cease to fret; For, tales I hap'd by chance to know And pleasant fancies I could show, With which my active mind was stor'd, Had sometimes paid my bed and board; Nay, had prolong'd my welcome stay Throughout a grave or lively day. "One evening by a riv'let's side That did in gentle murmurs glide, Where the green turf its carpet spread, And willow boughs wav'd o'er my head, I sat reclin'd, nor was my flute, As I could wake its music, mute: When a huge waggon pass'd along, And soon a chorus join'd the song. Invited by the social strain, I rose and sought the jocund train; Men, women, children, all so gay, Who loudly cheer'd the tedious way. The cargo which the waggon bore Were modern times and those of yore; The image of each living scene, And of such things as ne'er had been: Witches and goblins, clouds and skies Deck'd out in their varieties, The river's flow, the ocean's waves, The crowns of kings, the bonds of slaves, Helmets and mitres, robes and arms, Terrific forms, and beauty's charms, All mov'd along, together hurl'd, Th' outfittings of a mimic world: When what with spouting, what with song, As the procession trudg'd along, No cunning was required to see, It was a strolling company, Who were proceeding to make known Their talents in a neighb'ring town. Here a strange thought occur'd that I Might try my powers in Tragedy; While the vain fancy was possess'd I might appear among the best: In short among them I display'd An earnest of the acting trade. The bills were blazon'd with my name, A candidate for scenic fame, And 'twas announc'd that Mr. Page Would first appear on any stage. The part which I of course preferr'd Was SHAKESPEAR'S well known R. the THIRD. I wanted not the wardrobe's aid, My crook-back was already made; My form disdain'd the aid of art, And thus I play'd the tyrant's part: But from my being thus disjoin'd, To this same part I was confin'd. Though by this outfit I must own I could perform the awkward clown, Or any other hunch-back fellow, A Pantaloon, or Punchinello, Where white and red be-mark'd my face, And excellence was my disgrace: For here I shrunk beneath the pack That fate had nail'd upon my back. "I wish'd to figure as Othello, But he was a fine, straight-made fellow, Whom, with a shape, so crook'd, so bent, I could not dare to represent, And though his face was olive brown, No injury his form had known; While mine, in its unseemly guise, Fair Desdemona must despise: Nor could it be a bard's design, } That love-sick maids should e'er incline } To such an outrag'd shape as mine. } My voice possess'd a tender strain, That could express a lover's pain; But such a figure never yet Was seen to win a _Juliet_. Nay ladies lolling in a box, Would think it a most curious hoax, If through their glasses they should see Lord Townly such an imp as me. Thus for a month or more, JACK PAGE Fretted and strutted on the stage, Sometimes affording Richard's figure In all its native twist and vigour; Or bearing kick, or smack, or thump From Harlequin upon his hump. Though I say not, I was ill-paid For the fine acting I display'd. Nay, had I less mis-shapen been, I might to the Theatric scene, Have turn'd my strange life's future views, And courted the Dramatic Muse. "But as I could not smooth my shape From the hips upwards to the nape, And as to so confin'd a round My imitative powers were bound, My Genius I resolv'd to try In writing Farce or Comedy, In which I could exert my art For my dear self to form a part Wherein the keen, applauding eye Might dwell on my deformity, And where the picture might beguile The judgement to afford a smile. --When this same work I had perform'd My vanity was rather warm'd. 'Humour,' 'twas said, 'the piece discovers,' And it was call'd, 'The Crooked Lovers.' "I think, _Sir Jeff'ry_ you may guess, } The plot my Farce aims to possess,-- } A kind of praise of ugliness; } Where Beauty is not seen to charm, Nor fill the heart with fond alarm; Where finest eyes may gleam in vain, May wake no joy, or give no pain: And though the beaming smiles may grace The rosy bloom of Delia's face, Here they excite no am'rous passion, Nor call forth tender inclination: Such the desire, that ev'ry day, Amuses Cupid when at play, But other objects must engage The scenes I offer'd to the stage: Lame legs, club feet, and blinking eyes, With such like eccentricities, Call'd forth my amorous desire, And set my actors all on fire. With me no Damon longs to sip The sweets of Cath'rine's pouting lip, But smoke-dried Strephon seeks the bliss Of a well-guarded, snuffy kiss, Where the long nose, delightful wonder, Scarce from the chin can keep asunder; Where lovers' hearts ne'er feel a thump, But when they view each other's hump. "Now here again I was o'erthrown By a crook-back, and not my own; The May'rs gay wife, whose back appears Upon a level with her ears, Was pleas'd at first that I had prov'd She was an object to be lov'd; But as the Parish Parson too, With a small form was quite askew, And as, when it was pleasant weather, This pair would take a walk together, Would saunter through the winding glade, Or sit beneath the beechen shade; And, as it seem'd, were never cloy'd With tender converse so enjoy'd; It hap'd some Critic keen discovers Whom I meant by 'The Crooked Lovers.' The May'ress call'd th' obedient Mayor To frown from magisterial chair, And with the terrors of his mace To drive my Hunch-back from the place;-- And on the high-road I once more Was trav'lling as I did before. "To you, Sir, it was never known To feel the state which I must own: No home, not knowing where to go, How I should act and what to do. Just as a ship whose rudder's lost, Nor within sight of any coast; Without the power to stand the shock Of tempest, or to shun the rock. From the strange nature of my birth, I knew no relative on earth, Nor to my giddy thoughts was given To look with any hope to Heaven. To London I propos'd to go, Where not a being did I know: To me it was an unknown shore, Where I had never been before, At least, since of all care bereft, I was a helpless Foundling left. Thus, as I thought, behold I stood, Beside a mill-dam's spreading flood; The waters form'd to drive the mill } With its tremendous wheel, stood still, } While evening glimmer'd on the hill. } One plunge I said and all is o'er, My hopes and fears will be no more; An unknown child, an unknown man, And I shall end as I began. Nor can I say what would have follow'd, I, and my hump, might have been swallow'd In the deep, wat'ry gulph beneath, Had I not heard a hautbois breath A lively, but an uncouth strain, As it appear'd from rustic swain, Which, as it dwelt upon my ear, Told me that merriment was near, And did at once dispel the gloom That might have sought a wat'ry tomb. I turn'd my footsteps tow'rds the sound That was now heard the valley round; When soon upon the rural green, The sight of busy mirth was seen. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS AT A SHEEP-SHEARING.] "With sights like these, I had been us'd In early days to be amus'd When I but wav'd my boyish hand The rural groupes obey'd command, When ev'ry rustic feast I grac'd And was in highest station plac'd, Though I did to no name aspire, Yet I was nam'd the youthful 'Squire, For Madam Syntax sake was shown The honour which was not my own. But now, such was my fortune's change, A wand'rer I was left to range I scarce knew where, and doom'd to wait For what might be my future fate. Thus I approach'd the busy throng, And when I heard the joyous song, Though, with a mingled sense of pain, My flute pour'd forth a doubtful strain. --'Twas a sheep-shearing that employ'd The festive toil which all enjoy'd, And I was welcom'd to receive The bounties that the feast could give; And while I did my carols play, With flowers the maidens made me gay, And as they gave my back a thump, Each stuck a nosegay on my hump. Here I must own, there's no concealing, These compliments attack'd my feeling, And I was deck'd out in a part, Which on my back, was near my heart; Yet, as sweet smiles shew'd the intent That no offensive thought was meant, I, with kind words and sprightly tune Strove to repay the fragrant boon. --The yeoman, master of the feast, Was kind, and own'd me as his guest, And as he view'd each added fleece That did his summer wealth encrease, He joyous made the toast go round To the song's animating sound, While the patient ewes grown light, And eas'd of all their fleecy weight, No more the shearer's hand restrain But bound off to their hills again. Such was the scene that did awhile My bosom of its cares beguile, For he must have a wretched heart To whom those joys no joy impart, Which others are beheld to feel And to th' attentive eye reveal; Nay, I must own that this night's pleasure, Which revell'd in unbounded measure, A kind, though short, oblivion shed O'er my crook-back and thoughtful head: Yes, brief it was, for soon again My pleasure yielded to my pain, And all the jocund, festive folly Was then restor'd to melancholy. The ale was good, my draughts were deep, And, overcome by sudden sleep, Upon a chair my head repos'd, And soon my eyes were soundly clos'd. Th' Exciseman, a smart, parish wit, Thought he could make a funny hit, And with his ochre red and black, Drew a fierce face upon my back, The thought, at least, was not quite civil, With all the emblems of the devil. He had display'd his humour's art Upon a very tender part, At least, my pride, as you must know, Had to my fancy made it so. When, by the roar caus'd by the joke, I from the slumb'ring fit awoke; Soon did I make th' Exciseman sick Of such a mortifying trick: His gauging-rod was heard to crack In many a stroke upon his back, Till, by his supplicating tone, I found I had aveng'd my own. But though the marks were brush'd with care, By the same hand which trac'd them there; And though I was most warmly prest, By the kind master of the feast, To pass another jovial day; I felt offence and walk'd away. "'Do what I can, go where I will, This Hump's my evil genius still, And serves in some odd way or other My any sense of joy to smother.' --Such was th' expression that my tongue Would mutter as I trudg'd along. --But REASON told me, cease your strife With this companion of your life; 'Tis fix'd as fate, and you must wear it, Therefore with resignation bear it. It is, I own, an ugly tumour, But you should treat it with good humour, And still be pleas'd you cannot trace Any mis-givings on your face. The change you surely would not try For a lame leg or squinting eye: Though somewhat out of line your figure, You still enjoy Health's active vigour: All's right before, so never mind A certain awkwardness behind; For sure, when you present your front, No eye can see a blemish on't. With merry and good-humour'd folk, Treat it, Oh treat it as a joke, And if, by chance, you meet a fool Who turns it into ridicule, Tell him you'd rather have the feature, Coarse as it is, than his ill-nature. Take care that none who know you, find An awkward hump within your mind: Oh, let it be your constant care To banish disproportion there, And you will laugh with friends who crack Chance-medley jokes upon your back! [Illustration: QUÆ GENUS ASSISTING A TRAVELLER.] "To Reason I attention lent; } Th' advice was good,--and, strait or bent, } I now resolv'd to be content. } "Thus, as I urg'd my onward way, In spirits rather growing gay, With saddle bags and all alone, } A sprightly horse came trotting on, } As if he had his rider thrown. } The beast I, with some trouble, caught, And then its fallen master sought, Whom, within half a mile I found All pale and stretch'd upon the ground: When I approach'd, as in surprise, He gave a groan and op'd his eyes. A crystal brook ran murm'ring by, Its cooling fluid to supply, And soon its sprinklings did afford The power that banish'd strength restor'd. Thus, when re-mounted on his steed, We did, in progress slow, proceed: I cautious pac'd it by his side With tighten'd rein the horse to guide; And with attentive eye, prevent Another downfall accident. "We might have gone a mile or more, When we beheld a lofty tower That did in stately form arise, A welcome sight to anxious eyes, Marking a spot where might be found Some styptic to a bleeding wound. I shall be brief,--the Horseman's head } Was soon repos'd on downy bed; } The Surgeon came and he was bled: } The lancet was by blisters follow'd, And potions, in due order, swallow'd. He look'd his thanks, then squeez'd my hand, Bade me, what gold could pay, command; Of all I wish'd to take my fill, Enjoy myself, nor fear the bill. I took my patient at his word, And what the _Blue Bell_ could afford, (An Inn of good repute and worth, Well known to all who travel North,) As it was his desire, enjoy'd, Till with good living I was cloy'd. But his sick bed I did amuse, I told him tales and read the news; So that with emphasis he swore He almost griev'd his ills were o'er. "As near, I think, as I can tell, A fortnight pass'd ere he was well; When he thus wish'd me to make known How his best thanks could best be shown.-- "'I now may tell, my saddle-bags Held a rich bundle of those rags Which, from the Bank, are issued forth, As we all know, of precious worth, And might have been a certain prize Had they been seen by knavish eyes. A rogue would have possess'd the steed, And with his mettle and his speed, Have sought a spot, where, at his leisure, He might have rummag'd all my treasure; Nay, been in town before the post Could have made known what I had lost, And, on some artful trick's reliance, Have set discovery at defiance: When I, here sitting sad and stewing, Might have been pond'ring o'er my ruin: While, from your noble, gen'rous dealing, I feel a joy there's no revealing. "'A _Trav'ller_ is the name I bear, A well-known, useful character, Who, through the kingdom's wide-stretch'd bounds, Ne'er fails to make his yearly rounds. I for a London house of trade Employ my necessary aid, By which its commerce I extend From Dover to the far Land's End. Well mounted, or perhaps in chaise, We quietly pursue our ways; Lift our heads high, and look so grand When we have payments to demand, But bow, and handsome speeches give When we have orders to receive: Thus suiting manners, as you see To our commercial policy. Nay, when the busy day is o'er, We meet at night, perhaps a score; And, in return, give our commands To humble host, who cringing stands, In order to prepare the best For the be-bagg'd and trav'lling guest, And bring us wine to aid our cheer; } While, with stump'd pens behind the ear, } Good folks in town may drink their beer-- } Nay, may be boasting of our labours In smoking clubs of sober neighbours. "'To what the London Mart supplies, We give our wings and off it flies: Thus knowledge, taste, and every fashion Find a quick way throughout the nation, And all the wants of high and low We with a ready zeal bestow. --The beauties of improving art We scatter round in every part, And diff'rent districts of the isle In our communications smile. To learning we distribute books, And sauces to the country cooks: Nay, none there are who will refuse The town-made blacking for their shoes: On Shetland legs its lustre glows As on the boots of Bond-street beaux. Where is the Miss, or where the Maid Who does not ask our frequent aid? At city ball or country fair Our visits are apparent there; And but for us, the summer races Would be despoil'd of half their graces. In short, as ev'ry eye may see, The kingdom is one gallery; That its abundant uses owes To what the Traveller bestows. Hence it is not a vain pretence That we may make to consequence, Who, by our turns and windings, strive To make this flying commerce thrive: Too happy when we carry home Bags of Bank rags for which we roam: Nay, I may think I owe to you, That mine are safe within my view, And any wish I will obey, Which to my power you may convey.' "I seiz'd the time and told my tale, At least, as much as might avail Some settlement in town to find, That suited both my means and mind; When by advice, and, which was better, By a most urgent, friendly letter, Arriv'd in London,--I soon found I did not tread on hostile ground: Nay, ere a week was pass'd and gone, } Fortune, I hop'd had ceas'd to frown, } As I did now a station own, } With promis'd comfort by my side, That gave me gains, nor hurt my pride. But my misfortunes were not past, Though this I hope will be my last, Or I'll avenge me of the pack, The foe I carry on my back; From London Bridge I'll dash me plump,-- And drown th' incorrigible Hump. "Now, the good lady of the house, Who had an influence o'er her spouse, Was in that interesting state Which I can't otherwise relate Than being such as loving wives Think the great honour of their lives, And she thought, if her daily eye Should view my sad deformity, It might the happy shape destroy Of the expected girl or boy; And ladies, in a certain trim, Must be indulg'd in ev'ry whim. Such danger did my form display, Another hour I must not stay: But gold was giv'n to heal my pride, And bribe me to be satisfied. 'Tis true, kind words explain'd the cause; Nay, much was said of Nature's laws; And where that ruling pow'r thought fit, To her caprice we must submit. --Thus, once again, if not for ever, I had to curse th' infernal fever That did my upright form disgrace, And rob me of my welcome place. --At length, brimfull of discontent, Half-mad, I to the Office went; Where Fortune seem'd to change my view, For there she made me known to you. "Thus, Sir, I've told my tedious story, And now a suppliant stand before you: But in my story, right or wrong, Truth was the rudder of my tongue. --I've done, and, in all patience, wait, To know how you may rule my fate; And if my hist'ry will commend } QUÆ GENUS, (such may be his end,) } To you, _Sir Jeff'ry_, as his friend." } CANTO III Silence for some short time ensu'd, Ere conversation was renew'd. --_Sir Jeff'ry_ first strok'd down his chin, } With something 'twixt a yawn and grin, } And then thought proper to begin. } "By a great writer it is said, And one who seldom was betray'd, When he employ'd his tongue or pen On the known characters of men: (And if, perchance, I'm not mistaken, I think his famous name was BACON,) That in the changeful scenes of life, Which raise up enmity and strife, He may 'gainst others hold his head, Nor the wide world's opinion dread, If, though he almost stands alone, An honest heart maintains its own: But that he is an arrant fool Who yields to his own ridicule. Now such a fool, as we have seen, QUÆ GENUS, from weak pride, has been: But, though I wonder at his folly, I will not make him melancholy. "Things at the worst, 'tis said, must mend, And I will prove your real friend, If you, hereafter, have the sense To merit my full confidence: And now, I think, you may prepare To take my household to your care. Your pride must not offended be At putting on a livery, As that will be the best disguise To hide you from all prying eyes; QUÆ GENUS, too, you now must yield, That learned name should be conceal'd; _Ezekiel_ will suspicion smother, As well, I think, as any other, Till I have due enquiry made If _Gripe-all_ be alive or dead, And how far I may recommend The runaway to _Doctor Bend_. Do what is right--and laugh at fear; The mark you carry in your rear Will never intercept the view Fortune may have in store for you. No more let vanity resent The stroke by which your form is bent! How many in the world's wide range Would willingly their figures change For such as yours, and give their wealth To get your hump and all its health. Look at my legs--my stomach see, And tell me, would you change with me? Nay, when your healthy form I view, } Though all be-hump'd, I'd change with you, } And give you half my fortune too. } Lament no more your loss of beauty, But give your thoughts to do that duty Which my peculiar wants require, And more you need not to desire. I feel I cannot pay too high For care and for fidelity: Let me see that--my heart engages To give you something more than wages --Your duties will be found to vary, As Steward, Nurse, and Secretary: Thus you will soon my wants attend Less as a servant than a friend. You may suppose I little know Of what is going on below; My leading wishes are, to prove That I am duly serv'd above, And you, as may be daily seen, Must play the active game between." [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS, IN THE SPORTS OF THE KITCHEN.] More pass'd, that needs not our repeating, About the mystery of eating, Which did these sage instructions close, When good _Sir Jeff'ry_ 'gan to doze: And, soon as he more soundly slept, Downstairs _Ezekiel_ cautious crept, (For by that name he now is known, As fate has chang'd it for his own,) To let th' expecting folk below The nature of his office know. To ev'ry man he gave his fist,-- The females, too, he warmly kiss'd; Then to th' assembled kitchen spoke, But not as if he thought a joke, Or in a hypocritic glee, But with a smiling gravity. "_Sir Jeff'ry's_ household int'rests are Committed to my faithful care; And I must hope we all agree To serve him with fidelity." To this they all, in order due, Gave their assent--and bound it too By words which each one, in their station, Gave as a solemn declaration. The cook and housekeeper began, And thus her red rag glibly ran; While, from her knee unto her chin, She wav'd the floured rolling pin. "O, may the kettle never boil, May butter always turn to oil, And may the jack, the chimney's boast, From time to time despoil the roast! May soot fall on the ready stew, And the cat lick the rich ragout! May China dish with pie to bake, While I am speaking, may it crack, If I e'er took the offer'd bribe From any of the market tribe, Or e'er disgrac'd the name of cook To falsify the kitchen book; Nay, if I have touch'd or taken, For my own use, one slice of bacon; If ever I were such a sinner, May I now spoil _Sir Jeff'ry's_ dinner; And should I suffer such disgrace, I instantly should lose my place!" CHAMBER MAID. "May I be hang'd by some bell rope If e'er I cribb'd an ounce of soap, Or pocketed wax-candles' ends To deal out slily to my friends; Or, in the linen's gen'ral muster, Made free with towel or with duster; Or e'er did bribes from turners take, The mops to spoil, or brooms to break; Or in the bed-rooms made a stir To call in the upholsterer, As house-maids with dishonest view, Are, as I've heard, so apt to do! Or ever gave, in washing tub, The linen a hard, tearing rub, That might encrease the rags--a fee Which household custom gives to me! --That I speak truth, I here declare, And Molly, too, the same will swear; Who striking hard upon the dresser, Hop'd Heaven itself would never bless her, If, from whate'er she saw or knew What had been promis'd was not true." KITCHEN MAID. "Though I am rather in a flutter, I vow I never turn'd the butter Into the pot that might encrease The perquisite of daily grease; Nor sought for fat, no, not a bit, But what dripp'd kindly from the spit, Or from the plates and dishes came, When I had daily clean'd the same; Nor ever let a candle fall To fill a gaping interval! Nor did I e'er a doit receive Which coal-merchants may sometimes give To those who watch the kitchen-grate, And keep it in a flaming state; Who may the poker wield at will And seldom leave its poking still, Nor e'er the kitchen blaze controul By being niggard of the coal: Charges that are so often laid To the hard-working, kitchen maid!" FOOTMAN. "O may I never, never be A servant out of livery, Which is th' ambitious, hop'd-for lot Of all who wear the shoulder knot! O may I never quit my place } Behind the chair, nor shew my face, } The sideboard's glitt'ring show to grace, } If, when my master ceas'd to dine, I ever stole a glass of wine! O, may my food be pitch and mustard, If ever I took tart or custard, If e'er I did my finger dip In some nice sauce and rub my lip! If turnpike tolls I e'er enlarg'd,-- May I this moment be discharg'd!" COACHMAN. "May I be flogg'd with thorny briars If e'er I heard such cursed liars, And should I venture now to say } I ne'er purloin'd or corn or hay, } I should be liar big as they! } Nay, 'tis such folly to be lying, And all these trifling tricks denying, Which, ere a fortnight's past and over, Mr. _Ezekiel_ must discover. _Sir Jeff'ry's_ keen look never sees What are but clever servants' fees, And he would feel it to his sorrow, Were he to change us all to-morrow; For the new steward soon will see No master's better serv'd than he. There's not a carriage about town That looks genteeler than our own; Or horses with more sprightly air, Trot through the street or round a square. I say that we all do our duty, And if we make a little booty, We never hear _Sir Jeff._ complain: And wherefore should one give him pain? If better servants he should seek, He must be changing ev'ry week; And I am sure that kind of strife Would spoil the quiet of his life: Nay, as you know, there is no question Would operate on his digestion; And when that fails, it is a point That puts the rest all out of joint. Thus all our trifling, secret gains Save him a multitude of pains: And when our daily work is done, If we kick up a little fun, No harm proceeds--no ill is meant-- He's not disturb'd--and all's content. --Nay, now my friends, I'll club my shilling, And you, I'm sure, will be as willing To drink--that bus'ness may go on In the same temper it has done, And, without any treach'rous bother, That we may understand each other: That, without boasting or denying, We need not to continue lying; And that, disdaining needless fuss, _Ezekiel_ may be one of us." The wine was brought, for vulgar beer Was not thought proper to appear; The cook a pigeon pie produc'd, And other tit-bits that amus'd The appetites of those who sought 'em, With thanks to the fat dame who brought 'em. --Thus the new steward was made free Of kitchen hospitality; And to be blind to what he saw, He was bound down by kitchen law. At length, in office thus install'd, And each was gone where duty call'd, He, with a pressing arm, embrac'd } The busy cook's well-fatten'd waist, } As with her pin she plied the paste; } When from her active tongue he drew The duties which he had to do, And how he might their claims divide, Nor lean too much to either side. --Our hero, who now felt his ground, Thought not of change in what he found; And that to enter on reform Would be but to excite a storm, Disturb the Knight's desir'd repose And fill a kitchen full of foes. He plainly saw his station bound him To be at peace with all around him: But, as the diff'rent int'rests drew, He rather trembled at the view. Thus, if we may small things compare With those which more important are, We may _Ezekiel's_ state apply To maxims of philosophy, By which it seems life's changeful hours Are subject to two adverse powers, That govern as by time or chance, Nay, struggle for predominance; While each, at diff'rent hours, may be Possess'd of short-liv'd victory, As varying impulses may bind The operations of the mind. Here selfish int'rest will prevail-- There gen'rous feeling turns the scale; So that he neither can be said Strictly to be or good or bad; But in the one or other sense, Of that presiding influence Which counteracting views may give, And the complying mind receive. Thus, subject to these adverse powers, In diff'rent places--diff'rent hours-- Poor mortal man, by their constraint, May be a sinner or a saint. To day he's wading to the chin In folly's stream, through thick and thin; While, on the morrow, he may prove What virtue's self delights to love. 'Twas in this case our hero stood: He might be bad--he might be good; If good, he must the kitchen sweep-- If bad, its tricks a secret keep; But if he would preserve his cloth, He must determine to be both. Thus, as he took a thoughtful view, } He saw, his int'rest to pursue, } He must divide himself in two. } Above to stick to rigid plan-- Below to join the lively clan: In what _Sir Jeff'ry_ did entrust To his sole province, to be just; But ne'er to interrupt the show That was kept up by friends below: At least, he was resolv'd to try This system of philosophy; To be a favourite with all, In drawing room and servants' hall. From all that he at present view'd, No other plan could be pursu'd; No other method could he trace, To be at ease and keep his place. Up-stairs to serious care he went, } Down-stairs to stolen merriment, } And thus the day and night were spent. } _Sir Jeff'ry_, in a tone of pleasure, Talk'd of _Ezekiel_ as a treasure; And, far as the good Knight could tell, He merited the title well: Nay, it is true, he never fail'd To meet the humour that prevail'd; And through the day, from morn till night, _Sir Jeff'ry_ found that all was right. But when he slumb'ring sought his bed, And on the pillow laid his head, Then did our hero quit his post And pass away like midnight ghost; Then did he from his virtue move, The power that rul'd him when above, And seek the lively sports below; For what could puzzled hunch-back do? Could he another course prefer? No,--he must take things as they were. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS, IN THE SERVICE OF SIR. JEFFERY GOURMAND.] In this wide world, how oft is seen A phantom with alluring mien, Y'clep'd Temptation, whose sweet smiles Too oft the stoutest heart beguiles. Whate'er its forms, they seldom fail Sooner or later to prevail. If it assumes a golden shower, Or sits in any seat of power, How numerous the slavish band Who offer to obey command: Still, some examples may be shown Of those whose virtues would disown Its influence, and refuse to fly, Or yield the palm of victory. But where's the heart that e'er disdains The pow'r that dwells where beauty reigns? If such a question we propose, _Ezekiel_ was not one of those; And thus below-stairs he began To break upon his up-stairs plan: Nay, this same rigid rule of right, } In his close duties to the Knight, } He now thought might be drawn too tight; } And that, in trifles, to his feeling, He might be safe in double dealing, And in the drawing-room apply The aid of kitchen policy: But he as soon would think of murther As to proceed an atom further. How he thus happen'd to decline From his strict, philosophic line; Why he relax'd from law severe In the Knight's upper atmosphere, Will not surprise one human creature Who the world knows, or human nature, Or recollects the joy or smart When passion first invades the heart. There were two objects most bewitching, That sparkled all around the kitchen; Though so bright was every kettle, Or plate or pan of various metal, That each might gaze upon a face As if they peep'd into a glass: Though fire-irons did reveal The shining of the polish'd steel,-- Yet these superior pow'rs display'd, Than aught by human artist made: In short, to state what they could be, And silence curiosity, They were two eyes which lustre shed Where'er the owner turn'd her head; Though they gave not the only grace That play'd on Molly's charming face. But whether 'twas her lips or nose, Or the fine curve of auburn brows, That aided the commanding eye In its well-play'd artillery, Howe'er that be--in his warm heart _Ezekiel_ had receiv'd the dart, And as its ruling power he felt, Each steady purpose 'gan to melt:-- For her he might his virtue stake } And let his yielding conscience quake, } Nay, cheat _Sir Jeff'ry_ for her sake. } 'Tis not the office of the Muse, On slight suspicions, to accuse; Nor does she now present to view More than 'tis probable she knew: But one day, and it may be more, His constant meal of dainties o'er, Dull nature did the Knight incline To snore a little o'er his wine. Our hero, seeing Molly pass, He tempted her to take a glass; For, in his state of tender feeling, What gen'rous mind will call it stealing? And scorn'd be they who think it treason Against the better rules of reason, If, in return, he sought a kiss; But as he seiz'd the melting bliss, Tall Margery was passing by By chance or curiosity: She glanc'd at all was onward going, And what _Ezekiel_ was bestowing; When, as she cast her leering eye, Thus thought her rising jealousy. "If, Sir, you give Miss Moll the glass, I'll try to make a bottle pass;" Then push'd her stout arm by the door, The sideboard's juices to explore. If 'twas by chance the action came, Or if a purpos'd trick's to blame, A smart kick caus'd the door to close And caught the damsel by the nose. The luckless nose was rather long, And had its gristle not been strong, Had not the door been edg'd with baize To give its hurried motion ease,-- Had it been sharp, the wicked pinch Might have cut short that nose an inch. _Madge_ now scream'd out at her disaster, } And swore that she would tell her master, } But our _Ezekiel_ found a plaister; } Though what the plaister was he found To silence tongues and cure the wound, We must not nice enquiry make For virtue's and our hero's sake. But we may tell, for this we know, That all was still and calm below; Though as the faithful verse will prove He shap'd another plan above, Form'd to controul all household feud, And be as honest as he could; Thus give to things another face To live at ease and keep his place. --Two int'rests into one were thrown, Those of _Sir Jeff'ry_ and his own: The former strictly to maintain, Nor yet the latter to disdain; The Knight's confiding grace to keep, Nor let his own advantage sleep; The kitchen's jovial mirth to boast, But leave the cook to rule the roast; To be of Molly's smiles possest, Though never to offend the rest: And here we fear is the beginning, The first short lesson of his sinning. So young, and with such little sense Of what is call'd--experience; And whom the world had not yet taught, As it might do, to set at nought What conscience tells us we should shun, What we should do or leave undone; Or, with a certain self-deceit, The virtues of the heart to cheat, He certainly appears to be Envelop'd in perplexity, And verging on a dang'rous scrape From which he might not make escape Without a loss which he would rue Of the fair prospects in his view; And thus be on a sudden hurl'd Faithless and friendless on the world. As in his plan this hasty change Was, it may seem, so very strange, It therefore may be well to know From whence such awkward motives flow, For awkward motives they must be Which trench upon integrity. It was not Molly's sparkling eyes Which sought his virtue to surprise; For though he might her heart beguile To yield his wish a fav'ring smile, She ne'er allow'd of a pretence Beyond the claim of Innocence. There is a proverb so well known It would be ign'rance not to own The having heard and felt its truth E'en in the days of early youth, That, if we chance with those to live Whose lives a bad example give, They will convey, as we shall find, A foul contagion to the mind. Thus for a time _Ezekiel_ stood Firm as the tree that crowns the wood, But, after mocking ev'ry blast, Will sometimes bend and fall at last. Though whether he began to shake, Or only suffer'd twigs to break, But still retain'd his fibres bound, } In firm defiance to the ground, } While the main trunk, tho' shook, was sound, } Is what the curious mind shall know, And no far distant page will show. Thus the humble verse will trace His future honour or disgrace; As intermingled they must be With scenes of household history. When good _Sir Jeff'ry's_ gout was kind And to his bed he was confin'd; No dainty dinner to be got, And nought but messes in the pot, The kitchen folk, then quite at leisure, Would think of more than common pleasure; Then butlers of the higher station, And valets to gay men of fashion, Invited were, to join the ball Now given in the servants' hall, With ladies' maids who titles bore Of mistresses--whose gowns they wore; And sometimes a smart tradesman, too, Would pop in to say--_how do ye do_. --Here all home secrets were betray'd-- } The various tricks which servants play'd, } And how their fortunes could be made. } When one grave man his silence broke, And thus to our _Ezekiel_ spoke:-- "Had I," says he, "so fine a place, As your superior manners grace; Had I a rich man in my keeping, Who passes half his time in sleeping; Whose purse is always in your view, And lets you pay his tradesmen too; While, that he may enjoy his ease, He makes you guardian of his keys, My growing fortune soon should flow, And in a way he ne'er should know. If by his bed you are his nurse, And have the jingling of his purse; If, when the doctor comes to see him, And you are calmly told to fee him, You must be nam'd the veriest elf If, then, you do not fee yourself: Nay, when his fingers, cramp'd with gout, Cannot well take a _sovereign_ out, And he should bid you take out four, Contrive to grapple five or more. 'Tis when he's sick with aches and ails, When pain torments and mem'ry fails, When the night's pass'd his bed beside, Then Fortune tells you to provide For future wants,--and bless the hour That gives the means into your power: Nor ever fail, on some pretence, To rail against the rash expense Which doctors and their varlets bring To patients, sick and suffering, Till you can get him to exclaim-- 'Expense is a mere idle name; Of cost let your complainings cease, I care not so it gives me ease:' Then offer up your thanks to Heaven That to his fortune it is given To be thus blest with ample wealth, At any cost to purchase health. This is your harvest; I shall tell Another story when he's well: That time's but short,--though let him see That then you're all economy. When he can settle an account, And look into the just amount, Then, then let ev'ry thing appear Just as it ought--correct and clear. Thus let your speculations rove When well below, when sick above, And all I'm worth I now would stake You will, in time, a fortune make. Rich as he is, and careless too, With such a confidence in you, _Sir Jeffery_ will never feel Your happy turn in fortune's wheel." "Hold, hold awhile," the list'ner said, "This is too much," and shook his head; "For still I feel, without offence, I've not quite done with Conscience, Nor can so boldly lay aside The warnings of that faithful guide! Am I this moment to forget How much I'm in _Sir Jeff'ry's_ debt, And thus, with chance of foul disgrace, To play the rogue and risque my place?" "No, no," his counsellor replied, "Servants and masters are allied; Each is to each a foster-brother, And have their claims on one another. An useful servant is a treasure, Whose service masters seldom measure. What I now from my heart commend, As an experienc'd, willing friend, Is not to rob or place your paw On what is guarded by the law, But such as are no more than fees For all your extra services; For duties which no pay engages, Under the common name of wages; For what your varied service grants To all his fancied, sickly wants, Which never can your toil requite For all you do by day or night. "When _Sir Jeffery_ fortune gain'd, By contracts from the State obtain'd, Think you he had a pious loathing To crib a yard from soldiers' clothing? And when he did his thousands touch, To say--'my lord, I've got too much; And I am ready to confess I should have done the job for less.' How could such men their fortunes make Did they but fair advantage take! And have you not an equal claim, In a small way, to do the same? --When the Knight took his daily range From _Mincing Lane_ to the _Exchange_, And calculated as he went, How he should make his _Cent. per Cent._ Think you that he was over-nice To fix his rate of merchandise? When his ships sought some foreign strand, Did he disdain the contraband, If he could but with safety chouse The sentries of the custom-house? A little smuggling all allow, But only mind the when and how: Take your _per centage_, but with care; And who will say it is not fair? --I've serv'd the wealthy and the great, Nay once a Minister of state, And as I saw that in his station He did not fail to rob the nation, I thought I might indulge the whim, As a turn serv'd, to pilfer him. I courted too my Lady's maid, For Charlotte understood her trade: I form'd my plan and did espouse her, Then started up a tonish grocer, Kept butlers in my constant pay Who serve me in the usual way, And all the house-keepers around With certain something in the pound. Now hear the advantage which I share From all my caution, all my care! I have a genteel, pleasant home, To ladies let my drawing-room, And in a whisky I can ride With Charlotte smiling by my side. 'Tis thus I offer to your view, What I have done,--for you to do." Here this fine conversation ended, But not, perhaps, as was intended, Which strong temptations might display To lead th' unsettled mind astray; And, for a time, as fancy play'd, Now beaming light, now seeking shade, _Ezekiel_ hover'd o'er the plan Of specious rogue or honest man. Perhaps a smart, neat, pleasant shop, Did on his pericranium pop, With his warm, faithful wish to crown, The lovely Molly then his own: Such interests might his purpose guide, Till he was questioned by his pride;-- "--But can this be a proper plan For one bred like a gentleman? 'Tis true I cannot change the show } Of kitchen policy below, } There I must yield, I'm bound to know: } But, in the regions above, The whole in rectitude shall move; To the Knight's goodness I may trust, And faithful will I be and just; Nor ever take or e'en receive But what his favour's pleas'd to give; Nor shall reproach my mind disgrace Whene'er I look him in the face." Such were his thoughts,--the grocer fail'd. Thus honesty at length prevail'd, And sav'd him, as things shortly stood, From baseness of ingratitude. In a few days the parting gout Gave the Knight leave to go about, And one day in his arm-chair plac'd, The table with its luncheon grac'd, Smiling, as he luxurious sat, He thus let loose his easy chat. "This soup, my friend's a special treat, Fit for an Emperor to eat, And now, my pleasure to pursue, I trust I have a treat for you. I've spar'd no pains to know the fate That on your future hopes may wait, And what I shall proceed to tell May altogether please you well, Unless you are resolv'd to try New whims and tricks of foolery, On which, however will depend, Whether your master is your friend. If, at all points, the news I bring May not be quite so flattering; Yet surely it deserves at least, To be thought good, if not the best. --You need no longer stand in awe Of any terrors of the law, The beating you to _Gripe-all_ gave Did little harm to that same knave, For he surviv'd to play a prank, By robbing of a country bank, And fled, as his late neighbours say, To flourish in America. Thither your fortune too is gone, But then your fears are also flown. Time, it is hop'd may make amends, Fortune and you may still be friends; Nor shall I my best wishes smother To introduce you to each other. My growing favour you will see, So lay aside your livery: Hence you will need not a disguise 'Gainst curious thoughts and prying eyes: Your former title you may claim, Again QUÆ GENUS is your name: Be faithful, and you soon shall know The kindness I may yet bestow. Nay, be but honest, while I live } Your upright service shall receive } All that my grateful hand should give: } Nor doubt my purpose as sincere,-- More may be meant than meets the ear." What heart, with the least sense of good, That would not melt with gratitude, When such a gen'rous friend was near The clouded scenes of life to cheer, And bid the drooping hopes pursue A brighter prospect now in view! And where's the heart that would not feel, And where's the tongue that could conceal The sense that virtue had withstood Such specious efforts to delude! QUÆ GENUS the sensation felt That bade repenting thoughts to melt; Nay, he e'en cast his eyes to Heaven, With doubts that he should be forgiven For having listen'd to deceit And almost yielded to the cheat, Whose principles had he obey'd As in the grocer's scheme display'd, All trembling he should now have stood A monster of ingratitude. What he had 'scap'd his heart confess'd, And his moist eyes confirm'd the rest. With ev'ry grateful feeling fraught He spoke not, but 'twas thus he thought:-- "My ever-watchful care shall tend To make me worthy such a friend, And all my kindred virtues burn To make that friend a due return." The Knight, with kindness, view'd the feeling, Which poor QUÆ GENUS was revealing; When, to cut short the pleasing pain Which words were failing to explain, He smiling bade him take his way To the known duties of the day. Of words there was a mute hiatus, And of the noon-tide apparatus The table quickly was bereft, While with some new-born pamphlet left, _Sir Jeffery_ calmly was proceeding To gratify his usual reading, When our QUÆ GENUS bore away The fragments of the lighten'd tray, And sought his pantry's cool retreat, Where, lolling on a welcome seat, He let his busy fancy range Throughout the unexpected change, That did upon his fortune wait; And still, though humble was his state, Scarce could he think it a disaster To wait the will of such a master; Nor did his pride reluctant bend, Since that same master was his friend. All that indulgence could bestow _Sir Jeff'ry_ did not fail to show; And, when alone, it seem'd to please The knight to set him at his ease, And shrink the distance to a span Between the master and the man. --Nay, here it cannot be denied } That it was soothing to his pride } To lay the shoulder-knot aside. } The liv'ried dress of red and brown He thus was call'd on to disown: In blue and buff, or buff and blue He now appear'd to daily view. The knight allow'd the taylor's art By all its power to make him smart; And Snip with his consummate skill, In working drapery to his will, By his contrivance gave the cape A flow to soften down the shape, So that the hump could scarce be said His general figure to degrade, Nor, to a common view, be seen To indispose his pleasing mien. Thus did he sit and calmly bless The hopes of promis'd happiness. CANTO IV The various, the uncertain views Which the all-anxious world pursues, While it directs its searching eye To what is call'd prosperity, Compose the gen'ral, pictur'd strife That forms the daily scene of life; And make up the uncertain measure Of power, of riches, and of pleasure; Which, whatsoe'er may be our state, } Do on the varying projects wait } Of lowly poor or princely great: } For as all worldly things move on We weigh them by comparison. Thus he who boasts his little all At a street-corner on a stall, Tempting the gaze of wandering eyes To view the transient merchandise, Will look to Fortune's smile to bless His humble trading with success, As he whose freighted vessel sails O'er distant seas with doubtful gales. Nay, in Ambition's humble school Perceive we not the love of rule, O'er rustic swains to bear the rod And be a village demi-god? To gain command and take the lead Where mean submission courts a head, Does in the lowest class prevail Of vulgar thoughts to turn the scale, As that which on their wishes wait, Whose object is to rule the state. --Seek you for pleasure as it flows, In ev'ry soil the flow'ret grows; From the pale primrose of the dale Nurs'd only by the vernal gale, To the rich plant of sweets so rare } Whose tints the rainbow colours share } And drinks conservatorial air. } But, 'tis so subject to the blast, It cannot promise long to last; Though still it 'joys the fragrant day, Till nature bids it pass away. The rude boy turns the circling rope, Or flies a kite or spins a top, When, a stout stripling, he is seen With bat and ball upon the green; The later pleasures then await On humble life whate'er its state, And are with equal ardor sought As those with high refinement wrought, Where birth and wealth and taste combine To make the festive brilliance shine. Thus the same passions govern all Who creep on this terrestrial ball: Their objects, truly, are the same, However shap'd, whate'er their name. What though the varying plan confounds In giving sixpences or pounds, In velvet or in home-spun cloth, They may be base curmudgeons both. Some are by charity enroll'd On tablets proud in lines of gold, While others, as by stealth, convey The mite that shuns the light of day; Though each performs a diff'rent part, Each may possess a Christian heart. It is not upon wealth alone That happiness erects its throne: How oft, alas! it is we see The rich involv'd in misery; How oft is view'd in reason's eye The wants which wealth can ne'er supply! The way to power may be betray'd, Though 'tis with solid gold inlaid; Nay, purchas'd pleasure prove deceit, And be at length a very cheat. --How weak, how vain is human pride, Dares man upon himself confide: The wretch who glories in his gain Amasses heaps on heaps in vain. Why lose we life, in anxious cares, To lay in hoards for future years? Can they, when tortur'd by disease, Cheer our sick heart and purchase ease? Can they prolong one gasp of breath, Or calm the troubled hour of death? What's man in all his boasted sway? Perhaps the tyrant of a day. Can he in all the pride of power Ensure his honours for an hour? Alike the laws of life take place Through ev'ry branch of human race: The monarch, of long regal line, Was rais'd from dust as frail as mine. Can he pour health into his veins Or cool the fever's restless pains? Can he worn down in nature's course New brace his feebled nerves with force? Can he, how vain is mortal power, Stretch life beyond the destin'd hour? "Consider, man, weigh well thy frame; The king, the beggar, is the same, Dust form'd us all,--each breathes his day, } Then sinks into his mortal clay." } Thus wrote the fabling Muse of GAY. } Such thoughts as these of moral kind QUÆ GENUS weigh'd within his mind: For wherefore should it not be thought } That, as his early mind was taught, } It might be with sage maxims fraught? } --Thus seated, or as he stood sentry, Sole guardian of the butler's pantry, Which lock'd up all the household state, The cumbrance rich of massy plate, And all the honour that could grace The power of superior place, That did acknowledg'd rank bestow O'er all the kitchen-folk below; What wonder that his mind should range On hopes that waited on the change Which unexpected Fortune's power Seem'd on his present state to shower. Though while his wand'ring mind embrac'd The present time as well as past, The visions of the future too Gave a fair prospect to his view. But life this well-known feature bears, Our _hopes_' associates are our _fears_, And ever seem, in reason's eye, As struggling for the mastery, In which they play their various part, To gain that citadel the heart. Thus though our Hero's honest pride Was, for the present, satisfied; And did things, as they seem'd to show, Promise to stay in _Statu Quo_, He, surely, would have ask'd no more For Fortune on his lot to pour, And with all due contentment wait For what might be his future fate: But while the present hour beguiles His cheerful mind with cheering smiles, The forward thought would strive to sow An awkward wrinkle on his brow. Now, strange as the event appears, The source of all his hopes and fears Was on each settled point the same, And _Jeff'ry Gourmand_ was its name. The Knight most gen'rous was and free, And kind as kindest heart could be, So that QUÆ GENUS scarce could trace The humbling duties of his place. Whate'er he did was sure to please, No fretful whims appear'd to tease; And while with fond attention shown, He did each willing duty own, Sir _Jeff'ry_ frequent smiles bestow'd, And many a kind indulgence show'd, And oftentimes would wants repress To make his fav'rite's labours less: Nay, when he dawdled o'er his meat, } Would nod and bid him take a seat } To share the lux'ry of the treat. } --He fancied, and it might be true, That none about him e'er could do What his peculiar wants required, And in the way he most desired, As _his_ QUÆ GENUS, thus he claim'd him, Whene'er to other folk he nam'd him. Indeed, he took it in his head That no one else could warm his bed, And give it that proportion'd heat That gave due warmth to either sheet. Our Hero rather lik'd the plan, As Molly brought the warming-pan, And having pass'd it through the door, Waited without till all was o'er. Thus, having rang'd the alarum-bell, With other things I must not tell, And seen Sir _Jeff'ry's_ pillow'd head Turning to rest within his bed, QUÆ GENUS bore the pan away Where Molly fair was us'd to stay. He was to honour firm, and she The mirror bright of Chastity. Thus half an hour was often spent In interchange of sentiment, Which doubtless was some tender theme: A subject for a pleasing dream. All this tells well,--nor was this all; The sceptre of the servants'-hall Was now committed to his hand; O'er that he had supreme command, But such his mild and smiling sway, All felt a pleasure to obey; And 'twas the kitchen's daily toast, Long may QUÆ GENUS rule the roast. Tradesmen did to his worth subscribe, For bills were paid without a bribe; And good Sir _Jeffery_ quite content How the allotted income went, At no accounts e'er gave a look, But those which fill'd his Banker's book. What could our Hero more desire, What more his anxious wish require, When with a calm and reas'ning eye He ponder'd o'er his destiny, As he unwound the tangled thread That to his present comforts led, And serv'd as a directing clue In such strange ways to guide him through? --To what new heights his hopes might soar, It would be needless to explore: For now the threat'ning time appears When he is troubled with his fears. His hopes have triumph'd o'er the past; But then the present may not last; And what succession he might find Harass'd with doubts his anxious mind. --Of the gross, cumbrous flesh the load Sir _Jeffery_ bore did not forebode Through future years a ling'ring strife Between the powers of death and life; The legs puff'd out with frequent swell, Did symptoms of the dropsy tell; The stiffen'd joints no one could doubt Were children of a settled gout; And humours redd'ning on the face, Bespoke the Erysipelas. Indeed, whene'er QUÆ GENUS view'd, With rich and poignant sauce embued, As dish to dish did there succeed, Which seem'd by Death compos'd to feed With fatal relishes to please The curious taste of each disease, That did Sir _Jeffery's_ carcase share And riot on the destin'd fare: When thus he watch'd th' insidious food, He fear'd the ground on which he stood. --Oft did he curse the weighty haunch Which might o'ercharge Sir _Jeff'ry's_ paunch; And to the turtle give a kick, Whose callipash might make him sick. He only pray'd Sir _Jeff'ry's_ wealth Might keep on life and purchase health. "Let him but live," he would exclaim, "And fortune I will never blame." Money is oft employ'd in vain, To cure disease and stifle pain; And though he hop'd yet still he fear'd Whene'er grave Galen's self appear'd; For when the solemn Doctor came, (Sir MIDRIFF BOLUS was his name,) He often in a whisper said, "I wonder that he is not dead, Nay, I must own, 'tis most surprising, That such a length of gormandising Has not ere this produc'd a treat For hungry church-yard worms to eat, And 'tis the skill by which I thrive That keeps him to this hour alive. Nay, though I now Sir _Jeffery_ see } In spirits and such smiling glee, } I tremble for to-morrow's fee." } --When this brief tale he chose to tell And ring his patient's fun'ral bell, QUÆ GENUS fail'd not to exclaim, As he call'd on the Doctor's name, "O tell me not of the disaster That I must feel for such a master, Nay, I may add, for such a friend Were I to go to the world's end, Alas, my journey would be vain, Another such I ne'er should gain!" Sir MIDRIFF, member of the college, And of high standing for his knowledge, In lab'ring physic's mystic sense And practical experience, As common fame was pleas'd to say, Expected more than common pay. Now, as Sir _Jeff'ry_ never thought His health could be too dearly bought, Whene'er the healing Knight was seen, Wrapt up within the Indian screen, To shape the drugs that might becalm Some secret pain or sudden qualm; Or when there was a frequent question, Of bile's o'erflow and indigestion, Or some more serious want had sped Sir _Jeff'ry Gourmand_ to his bed, QUÆ GENUS fail'd not to convey (For he had learn'd the ready way), The two-fold fee, by strict command, Into Sir _Midriff's_ ready hand. Thus, in this kind of double dealing, The Doctor had a pleasant feeling, That seem'd to work up a regard For him who gave the due reward, And knew so well to shape the fee From the sick chamber's treasury. Thus when our Hero told his pain } And did his future fears explain, } _Galen_ replied,--"Those fears restrain, } To this grave promise pray attend, Sir _Midriff Bolus_ is your friend." Such, when he touch'd the welcome fees, Were the sly Doctor's promises: QUÆ GENUS with good grace receiv'd 'em, Though 'tis not said that he believ'd 'em. --No, never was a visit past, But it was hinted as the last, Had they not been in lucky trim To have sent off post-haste for him. Whene'er the Knight's legs took to swelling, All ears were bor'd with sad foretelling; And if his chest was over-loaded, Some dire disaster was foreboded, But failing in prophetic story, He gave his science all the glory. A year, howe'er, was past and gone, And all the household cares went on, In active zeal and order too, As all such matters ought to do, With hours of leisure well employ'd, And many a fantasy enjoy'd. But something yet remains to know:-- To manage _two strings to your bow_, A maxim is, which ev'ry age Has rend'red venerably sage, And forms a more than useful rule In the world's universal school. Sir _Jeffery_, we make no doubt, In various ways had found it out: It might have help'd him on to wealth, And now to aid the wants of health, He kept the adage in his view, } And as one Doctor might not do, } It now appears that he had two. } The one, in order due, has been Brought forth on the dramatic scene, Ranks high in bright collegiate fame, And M. D. decorates his name. He never ventures to prescribe But what is known to all the tribe, Who hold the dispensarial reign Beneath the dome of Warwick-Lane. The other, steering from the track Of learned lore, was styl'd a Quack; Who, by a secret skill, composes For many an ill his sovereign doses: But whether right or wrong, the town Had given his nostrums some renown. Salves for all wounds, for each disease Specifics that could give it ease, Balsams, beyond all human praise, That would prolong our mortal days. All these, in many a puffing paper, Are seen in striking forms to vapour, As, in the Magazines they shine, The boast of Doctor ANODYNE. His office was advice to give In his own house from morn till eve, And a green door, within a court, Mark'd out the place of snug resort, Where patients could indulge the feeling That might dispose them to concealing The nervous hope, the sly desire To eke out life's expiring fire, Without the danger to expose Their secret or to friends or foes. Sir _Jeffery_ was one of these Who thought it was no waste of fees, Though they were toss'd about by stealth, If he could think they purchas'd health: But here, who will not say, it seems He guarded life by two extremes. Sir _Midriff_ told him he must starve, And _Anodyne_ to cut and carve: But though the first he nobly paid, It was the latter he obey'd. Full often was his _Merc'ry_ sent To bring back med'cine and content; Permission, what he wish'd, to eat, } And physic to allay the heat } Brought on by a luxurious treat; } To give the stomach strength to bear it, With some enliv'ning dose to cheer it. But still our Hero's watchful eye Saw that this sensuality Was bringing matters to an end, That he too soon should lose his friend; And in what way he should supply The loss when that same friend should die, Did often o'er his senses creep When he should have been fast asleep. Sir _Midriff_ to his promise swore, And _Anodyne_ had promis'd more, Both had prescrib'd or more or less, A future vision of success: But time has still some steps to move, Before they their engagements prove; Ere our QUÆ GENUS we shall see In a new line of history. Sir _Jeffery_ now began to droop, Nor was he eager for his soup: He blunder'd on the wrong ragout, } Nor harangu'd o'er a fav'rite stew, } Scarce wild-duck from a widgeon knew. } No longer thought it an abuse, To see St. MICH: without a goose. Unless prepar'd with cordial strong, He hardly heard the jovial song, Or hearing, had not strength to move And strike the table to approve. Nay, sometimes his unsteady hand Could not the rubied glass command, But forc'd him slowly to divide The rosy bumper's flowing tide. Beside him oft QUÆ GENUS sat An hour, and not a word of chat; And when he was in sleepy taking The news would scarcely keep him waking. --It was a melancholy showing, But poor Sir _Jeffery_ was a-going. "Indulge his gormandising swallow, And apoplexy soon must follow," Such did Sir _Midriff's_ sage foreknowledge Give as the doctrine of the College. "--Now, if you dare to keep him low, A dropsy gives the fatal blow. Remember, my good friend, I pray, What _Anodyne_ is pleas'd to say." When, in a kind of solemn croak, The Quack, with shaking noddle, spoke. Thus did the differing doctors fail, Nor could their varying skill prevail: They neither could set matters right, Or quicken a pall'd appetite. More weak and weak Sir _Jeffery_ grew, Nay, wasted to the daily view, And, as his faithful servant found, Between two stools he fell to ground. But still he smelt the sav'ry meat, } He sometimes still would eye the treat, } And praise the dish he could not eat. } One day, when in a sunshine hour, To pick a bit he felt the power, Just as he did his knife apply To give a slice of oyster-pie, Whether the effort was too great To bear the morsel to his plate; Or if, from any other cause, His nature made a gen'ral pause, He gave a groan, it was his last, And life and oyster-pies were past. Which of the Doctors did the deed, The one who starv'd or he who fed, Or whether Nature, nothing loth, Laugh'd at the counsels of them both, And, as they issued their commands, Her victim took from both their hands, I know not, but it seems to me, To be the work of all the three. Here it would be but idle folly To call on fruitless melancholy, To talk of blisters that in vain Were spread to bring back life again; Or all the lancet's power explore To wake the breath that breath'd no more; The stroke was struck, no human art Could now withdraw the fatal dart. Mutes marching on, in solemn pace, With gladden'd heart and sorrowing face, Who, clad in black attire, for pay Let out their sorrows by the day: The nodding plumes and 'scutcheon'd hearse Would make a pretty show in verse; But 'tis enough, Sir _Jeffery_ dead, That his remains, enshrin'd in lead, And, cloth'd in all their sad array, To mingle with their native clay, Were safe convey'd to that same bourne From whence no travellers return. --We must another track pursue, } Life's varying path we have in view,-- } Our way QUÆ GENUS is with you! } CANTO V As our enlighten'd reason ranges O'er man and all his various changes, What sober thoughts the scenes supply, To hamper our philosophy; To make the expanding bosom swell With the fine things the tongue can tell! And it were well, that while we preach, We practice, what we're fain to teach. O, here might many a line be lent, To teach the mind to learn content, And with a manly spirit bear The stroke of disappointing care; Awake a just disdain to smile On muckworm fortune base and vile, Look on its threatnings to betray, As darksome clouds that pass away, And call on cheering hope to see Some future, kind reality. --All who Sir _Jeffery_ knew could tell Our Hero serv'd him passing well; Nay to the care which he bestow'd } The Knight a lengthen'd period ow'd, } And such the thanks he oft avow'd. } QUÆ GENUS never lost his views Of duty and its faithful dues; His honour no one could suspect, Nor did he mark with cold neglect Those services which intervene } In a sick chamber's sickly scene: } His duty thought no office mean, } And to Sir _Jeffery's_ closing sigh All, all was warm fidelity. Nay, thus the Knight would frequent own A grateful sense of service done; And oft, in words like these, he said, That duty shall be well repaid. "QUÆ GENUS, know me for your friend, I to your welfare shall attend; Your friend while I retain my breath, And when that's gone, your friend in death." That death he felt as a disaster, For, to speak truth, he lov'd his master, Nor did he doubt that a reward Would prove that master's firm regard. 'Tis nature, in life's worst vexation, To look at least for consolation; And he, 'tis true, had turn'd his eye To a consoling legacy, That might, at least, make some amends, For losing this his best of friends; But his ill luck we must not smother; He lost the one, nor found the other. The will was full of good intent, And a warm legacy was meant To poor QUÆ GENUS, there's no doubt, But shuffling Fortune left it out; 'Twas she cut short the kind bequest, Which was thus fatally express'd. "To this my last and solemn Will I add by way of Codicil, My true and faithful servant's name, Who to my care has every claim: --To JOHN QUÆ GENUS I bequeath One month posterior to my death, The sum of Here a blank ensued Which has not yet been understood, Or why the figures were delay'd That would a sterling gift have made. Whether a sudden twitch of gout Caus'd him to leave the figures out; Or visit of a chatt'ring friend That did th' important words suspend, And thus retard the kind design, Until the 'morrow's sun should shine, That 'morrow with its ha's and hums, Which, often promis'd, never comes: Howe'er the enquiring mind may guess It cannot find the wish'd success: In short, whatever cause prevail'd, Too true, the gen'rous purpose fail'd. In the Knight's mind the boon was will'd, But still the blank was never fill'd, And no more the said will engages Than mourning suit and one year's wages, Which all his household should inherit Whate'er their station or their merit: Here no distinction was display'd 'Tween high and low, 'tween man and maid, And though QUÆ GENUS was the first, He had his portion with the worst. Our Hero thought it wond'rous hard Thus to be foil'd of his reward, That which, in ev'ry point of view, He felt to be his honest due; And both his master and his friend Did to his services intend; Which, as the sun at noontide clear, Does by the codicil appear: But when he ask'd Sir _Jeffery's_ heir } (Who did so large a fortune share) } The blank hiatus to repair, } Which he with truth could represent As an untoward accident, The wealthy merchant shook his head And bade him go and ask the dead. QUÆ GENUS ventur'd to reply While his breast heav'd a painful sigh, "The dead, you know, Sir, cannot speak, But could the grave its silence break, I humbly ask your gen'rous heart, Would not its language take my part, Would it not utter, 'O fulfil The purpose of the codicil?' Would it not tell you to supply The blank with a due legacy?" The rich man, turning on his heel, Did not the rising taunt conceal. "All that the grave may please to say, I promise, friend, I will obey." What could be done with this high Cit, But to look sad and to submit; For it could answer no good end Though indispos'd to be a friend, That kind of discontent to show Which might convert him to a foe. But ere we altogether leave Sir _Jeffery's_ grateful friends to grieve, We mean all those which to the sight Were clearly writ, in black and white, Within the bound'ries of the will, Nor left to _blundering Codicil_, It may not be amiss to draw The picture of the _Heir at Law_. When on the 'Change he took his rounds, He walk'd an hundred thousand pounds: Not less was his acknowledg'd worth When ev'ry morn he sallied forth, With expectation grave, to meet Fortune's fresh smiles in Lombard-Street. Upright in all his worldly dealing:-- But that high sense of noble feeling, The humane impulse to relieve, To wipe the eye of those who grieve, The wish of goodness to impart The bounties of a gen'rous heart, These were not his; and though the scroll That may the charities enroll Of gilded pride, upon the wall In some conspicuous hospital, Might his known name and title bear, 'Twas vanity that plac'd it there. But though, perhaps, a plum or more Was added to his former store, If, by sad chance, with haggard mien, An humble suppliant should be seen, A mother sick, a father dead, And children, left forlorn, unfed, His hand ne'er ventur'd on his purse To give relief, and, what was worse, He would alarm the wretches' fears With beadles fierce and overseers, Or talk of laws for vagrants made, Which call the scourge-man to their aid. Thus nought was look'd for at his hands, But justice strict to just demands: No smiling, generous overflow Of fair reward would he bestow; No bounty did his thoughts prepare For duty's overweening care; While service, by affection wrought, Was, in his reck'ning, set at nought. QUÆ GENUS gave in his account; Its justness own'd, the full amount Was duly paid, but I'll forgive The mind refusing to believe, That, when the rich man should discover That he had paid some nine-pence over, He did, without a look of shame, That pittance as a balance claim: It may appear full passing strange, But 'tis a fact, he took the change, And did the jingling half-pence greet, Like fish-women in open street. E'en the worn wardrobe of the Knight, Which is esteem'd the valet's right, The gen'ral heir-loom of his place, Was seiz'd by the curmudgeon base, And borne away, a paltry gain, To his own Store in Mincing-Lane: But when, among the other dues, Were order'd off the _Gouty Shoes_, QUÆ GENUS, with contempt inflam'd, Thus, in a hearty tone, exclaim'd, "Away, to the mean merchant bear 'em! Heaven grant he may be forc'd to wear 'em!" --Thus things went on;--then came the time, (The truth e'en shames my humble rhyme) When the Executor and Heir, For one did both the titles share, Appear'd to pay, in legal guise, The wages and the legacies. QUÆ GENUS, who had lately been A favour'd actor in the scene, Could not have guess'd at such disaster From such a friend and such a master: And though he strove, he scarce could hide The feelings of an honest pride, When, from Sir _Jeffery's_ error, he And those who wore a livery, Nay even house and kitchen-maid Were in the same proportions paid,-- When his allotted mourning bore The same coarse stuff the coachman wore. But how his heart began to beat When he was charg'd for the _receipt_! All his distinction now was lost, And he who long had rul'd the roast, Had, since Sir _Jeffery_ went to rest, Been of his station dispossest; Nay, not a common smile remain'd Of all the favour he had gain'd, While beggarly mistrust took place, Which he must feel as foul disgrace: For ev'ry key had been demanded; One instant made him empty-handed Dismiss'd from his late envied station Without a nod of approbation, He was preparing to depart With downcast look and heavy heart; Nor could e'en Molly's tender smile Of one sad thought that heart beguile HIS FAREWELL SPEECH. "And now, I say, adieu, my friends, For here our fellow-service ends. You need not put on sorrowing faces; You will soon meet with ready places; 'Tis me whose disappointing care, Of cheering prospects, bids despair. --You all, I'm sure can well believe, I have most ample cause to grieve That cruel Fortune thus should frown, When I thought her fond smiles my own. --Sir _Jeffery_ now is laid in dust, But when alive, how good, how just! And all who knew him well must know He never wish'd to use me so. Had he believ'd his end so nigh, I should have had the legacy, Which would have made me full amends For loss of fortune, loss of friends. Another day had he surviv'd, To the next morning had he liv'd, It might, perhaps, have been my fate To know an independent state, As he had told me, o'er and o'er, I ne'er should go to service more. When I did on his wants attend He spoke as a familiar friend: How often too we might be seen Chatting within the Indian screen! Whenever we were left alone, We seem'd not two, but were as one. I knew each tit-bit that he lov'd; He always what I gave approv'd; And as I stood beside his chair, Attending with respectful air, He oft would bid me sit and dine, Fill up his glass and pour out mine. --When thumb and finger he applied To the gold snuff box by his side, I shar'd the pinch, and he ne'er ceas'd To say, 'God bless you,' when I sneez'd; Nay, when my snortings I repeated, He thus my awkward flurry greeted, 'My friend, familiarize your nose To this exhilarating dose, For sure as we together dine This box, QUÆ GENUS, shall be thine!' But that kind friend, alas! is dead, And box and snuff and all are fled. Nay, had I now a hope on earth, And could engage in trifling mirth, I here might my complainings close With disappointments of my nose. --His common purse I could command, 'Twas daily open to my hand; You all well know I paid his bills, And when, to ease his various ills, Sir _Midriff_ came, I us'd to squeeze Into his palm the welcome fees. Whene'er I showed my weekly book, He never gave the page a look; And when I urg'd it the good Knight Would smile and say, 'I'm sure 'tis right.' Nay, I can say, in ev'ry sense, I ne'er abus'd his confidence: No, no, I never did purloin An atom of the lowest coin, And what I have to Heaven is known, In honest truth, to be my own, Then wonder not, I feel it hard, To be depriv'd of my reward, And, by such a chance, be hurl'd Again to struggle with the world. Reasons, besides, I must not tell, Why the Knight treated me so well; But I play'd no delusive part, And they did honour to his heart: Of that heart, had he left a share, } As well as fortune to his heir, } I need not now indulge despair." } "Mr. QUÆ GENUS, never fear," The Coachman said, "your spirits cheer! Dame Fortune has look'd down 'tis plain, But the jade may look up again: 'Tis true that dev'lish oyster-pie Fell souse upon the legacy: E'en so it was, I cannot doubt it, But I would think no more about it. You so well know your P's and Q's, That you have but to pick and chuse. I speak the truth, there are but few Mr. QUÆ GENUS, such as you: And though the merchant will not give The bounty which you should receive, What though he would not spare a farthing To save a soul of us from starving, Good names he'll give us, as he ought, For they we know will cost him nought; 'Twere better therefore to be civil, And hold the candle to the Devil, For we as servants cannot stir Without a show of character. --As you perceive, I'm not a chick, And know enough to make one sick: Nay, somewhat my experience lends, To guess at this world's odds and ends. I've been in many curious places; I've serv'd my Lords,--and serv'd their Graces; And, which gives work of more ado, I've even serv'd my Ladies too: I knew to shut or ope my eyes, To see strange things, nor look surprise. Sometimes good-luck has given a lift, And sometimes, I've been turn'd adrift; But should I live to Judgement-day, No, I will never fail to say, That I ne'er so much comfort knew, As since this house was rul'd by you. --Now, when you get an upper place, Which soon, I'm sure, must be the case, If then your favour will contrive, I should my Lord or Lady drive, For I the reins can handle true Of pairs, of fours, and sixes too, I promise, nay, my word engages To give you poundage from my wages. --I know you're gen'rous, kind and free, But here you will accord with me, That interest has a powerful weight Both with the little and the great: You see it well by what is past, Since your fine plan is overcast. I do not wish to give offence, But interest is common sense, And he who does not look to that, Mr. QUÆ GENUS, is a FLAT." The blunt, rough _Coachman_, said no more: When _Molly's_ fine black eyes ran o'er: The _Cook_ look'd grave, and _Betty_ sigh'd, } The _Kitchen-maid_ sat still and cried, } While _Thomas_ not a word replied.-- } QUÆ GENUS, not to be remiss, Gave to each maid a friendly kiss, And when he whisper'd his adieu To charming _Molly_, he gave two: Perhaps, if they were counted o'er, Her sweet lips might acknowledge more: Then told her softly not to fear, And kindly whisper'd in her ear, "What e'er my lot, I will be true To fond affection and to you." Our gloomy Hero now departed, And left the mansion heavy-hearted, Where in such comfort he had liv'd, Nor, till dismiss'd it, ever griev'd, And, with a tardy step, retir'd To a snug lodging he had hir'd. Thus once again by Fortune thrown On the wide world, and all alone, Without th' appearance of a friend On whose kind aid he could depend, QUÆ GENUS pac'd his lonely floor All to and fro and o'er and o'er, Thinking what efforts might be made, What stroke be struck, what game be play'd, To place him in some active state That promis'd to be fortunate. One consolation he possest, } Which, though it did not charm to rest } The rising troubles of his breast, } Yet still, whatever might confound him, Gave him full time to look around him, And, on whatever project bent, To weigh its views, and wait th' event. For, though his purse might not run o'er, He had a snug, sufficient store, To keep his anxious spirits free From any dread of penury, And guard him amidst toils and strife, Against the insidious smiles of life, That do so often tempt the mind To cast discretion far behind, Or make it fearful hazards try, Impell'd by dire necessity. --He had not yet unripp'd his coat, } In which conceal'd lay every note } Which he from _Gripe-all's_ clutches got: } A hoard on which he might depend, When he look'd round nor saw a friend. Besides, he had no trifle gain'd, While with Sir _Jeffery_ he remain'd; For though, as has been lately said, He never play'd a trick of trade; Nor had he even thought it right To take a valet's perquisite, Nor e'er allow'd his hands to seize The household steward's common fees, But of the strict and rigid law Of duty ever stood in awe. --All this the Knight full well believ'd, Nor could he think himself deceiv'd, When once he answer'd to a friend, Who did the young man's cares commend. "That same QUÆ GENUS is so just In all committed to his trust, To his right notions such a slave, He would not with a razor shave, Nor use a strap, nor ply a hone, He had not purchas'd as his own."-- Thus, as most worthy of his charge, Sir _Jeffery's_ annual pay was large, And when th' allotted quarter came, Something was added to his claim, Which with such gen'rous grace was given, It seem'd like Manna sent from Heaven!-- Besides, his wages, being high, Encreas'd the gen'ral legacy, Which he with all the household shar'd; The last, and now his sole reward. Thus so far independence brought A'gleam of comfort on his thought; He was not left on ruin's brink To sit and sigh, and swear and think. _Two_ points alone he had in view, He thought it hard they were but _two_; Nor could he call his fortune kind When they alone employ'd his mind: These were the DOCTORS, won by fees To make most bounteous promises; And though these GALENS might deny 'em, He was at least resolv'd to try 'em; And, if Sir MIDRIFF should decline, He would apply to ANODYNE. --The _former_, if he pleas'd, could well, And with strict truth, his value tell: For none with such experience knew That he was active, honest, true, And to his patient, well or ill, Did ev'ry duteous care fulfil. Nay, that it was the Knight's good pleasure To speak of him as of a treasure. Now, on his serious purpose bent, He to Sir MIDRIFF BOLUS went; But then, alas! as we shall see, His face did not forebode a fee: Nor did the great man smiling meet him, Or with a tone familiar greet him, As his keen humour us'd to do When _golden sovereigns_ were in view: Nor did he take him by the hand, As when it did the coin command. He now put on a curious leer, That said, "I pray, what brought _you_ here?" "I'm come to hope you'll condescend To prove yourself my promis'd friend," QUÆ GENUS said, "and with this view, I now present myself to you. You told me, 'when your master's gone, Look on my friendship as your own.' He's gone, alas, I too well know, To me a most affecting blow: But still, I trust, I may engage Your kind, protecting patronage, And, among those of rank and wealth Who make you guardian of their health, Your favour may smile on my fate, And I renew an household state, Like that which crown'd my better days, When I enjoy'd your frequent praise." The Doctor now his suppliant ey'd, And thus in hasty tone replied. "Indeed I've something else to do Than thus to be employ'd by you: I'm in great haste and must away, My patients wait, I cannot stay, To hear you, your fine story tell:-- So, honest friend, I wish you well."-- --Thus when Sir _Jeffery's_ fees were o'er He thought not of QUÆ GENUS more. Now, as he pac'd along the street, } Thus did he to himself repeat, } "Is this the fortune I must meet? } Is this the merited reward Which they receive who strive to guard Their hearts against the tempting guise Of int'rest and its sorceries; And say to Virtue, 'Maid divine! Behold thy slave, I'm wholly thine!' --It is not that I now repent, Or harbour selfish discontent, That I should hesitate to seize The golden opportunities Which were presented to my power, Not ev'ry day, but ev'ry hour, While with Sir _Jeffery Gourmand_ I Enjoy'd the means those arts to ply, Which, by the curious eye unseen, Might with such gains have pregnant been: No, no, thank Heaven, I'm not embued With that worst vice, Ingratitude; An odious vice that is of kin To every other mortal sin. I felt his kindness, and where'er My lot may be of pain and care, Those kind reflections I possess To make me smile in my distress, That I ne'er for a moment swerv'd From the best duties he deserv'd; Nay, which he, to his closing days, So often honour'd with his praise,-- And should it be my lot to find Another master good and kind, Whose gen'rous heart would condescend To treat QUÆ GENUS as a friend, This I may truly boast, that he } Should find an humble friend in me, } Whose soul is faithful loyalty! } I would the path of truth pursue As I have long been us'd to do; And where, howe'er oblig'd to bend To pressing views, my wishes tend. But, in this world of chance and change, As it appears, I'm doom'd to range, And I may be oblig'd to treat it As it will be my lot to meet it. I will not rob nor will I steal, } But from myself I'll not conceal } The secret purpose which I feel. } Commandments I will never break, But when fair interest is at stake, I'll follow in my future views The conduct which the world pursues; And when that principle I own, The world will have no right to frown. Thus whatsoe'er may be my station, Where chance may fix my next vocation I'll keep discretion in my view, As prudent folk profess to do. --But ere throughout the town at large I look for some inviting charge, Though with one Doctor I have fail'd, Another now shall be assail'd; Though brilliant prospects may not shine, Yet I'll e'en go to ANODYNE. The QUACK may prove a better friend Than e'er Sir MIDRIFF might intend; At all events, howe'er perverse, 'Tis plain he cannot prove a worse; Howe'er that be, I can but try."-- --Thus clos'd his thoughts' soliloquy. QUÆ GENUS now pass'd up the Court The sickly patient's still resort, Where, in a corner quite retired, The mansion stood which he desired, Whose door, bedight with darksome green And mouldings edg'd with black, is seen; While letter'd gold appears to shine And tell the name of ANODYNE. He touch'd the well-known tinkling-bell That did some sickly presence tell, When the door op'd with rapid force, And patients glided in of course. There was ne'er heard a knocker's sound, To rouse the idle neighbours round, Or to the windows call the eye Of peeping curiosity. The signal was not given twice; QUÆ GENUS enter'd in a trice And sought the solemn Doctor's nook, Where he sat with a folio book, Some ancient Galen's learned creed, Which 'tis not certain he could read: Alone, o'er this he gravely doz'd, But when the sick arriv'd, he clos'd The cumbrous volume, and gave ear The tale of some distress to hear. To JOHNNY this was no new scene, For here he had full often been, But as he _fee-less_ ne'er before Had hasten'd through the well-known door, He felt some doubts within his mind What sort of welcome he should find. Sir MIDRIFF'S conduct it appears, Had chang'd his promis'd hopes to fears; And when he felt such rude disdain From one who rul'd in Warwick-Lane, Who boasted of superior knowledge To all the learned of the College; Who from his frequent promise swerv'd, To one who his kind smiles deserv'd; Yet ev'ry day, and ev'ry hour, Possess'd the patronising power, With mere commending words to gain The boon QUÆ GENUS ask'd in vain;-- What good then could his hopes supply From the low pride of quackery, From one who rested his pretence On nostrums and on impudence. But he had felt that in Life's dance, We often owe to strokes of chance, That unexpected good prevail'd Where Reason's better hopes have fail'd. Such thoughts the purpose did incline To make his bows to ANODYNE. The Doctor with a friendly air, } 'Rose from his dictatorial chair, } And pleasure told to see him there: } When thus QUÆ GENUS in reply, Began the following Colloquy. QUÆ GENUS. "Sir _Jeffery_, as, I trust, you know, Is gone, Sir, where we all must go; In spite of all your healing power, Has reach'd, at length, his final hour, Though had he trusted all to you, } And to Sir MIDRIFF bade adieu, } Which he was half inclin'd to do, } Perhaps, my present visit here Would not so penniless appear; For I am come, as you must see, Without the pass-port of a fee. It is self-interest, I fear, Yes, I must own it, brings me here. Since his departure I am hurl'd To push my fortune in the world, And may I now with courage say, You will assist me on my way? --Such is, alas! my alter'd case, I'm seeking for another place, Though e'en my visionary mind Can never hope again to find Such a so envied household post, As that which I have lately lost. With fortune I shall ne'er contend But smile on that which she may send; And of whatever state possest, Be satisfied and act my best. Now, as I've reason well to know, Though 'tis not you have told me so, That persons of superior worth, The wealthy and of noble birth; Who, tir'd of physic's settled rules, As taught in colleges and schools, Have sought your bold and fearless skill, The potent drafts and secret pill, Which your _Acumen_ can impart, Beyond the reach of drudging art, And I have heard will cure the pain, When boasting science tries in vain: Nor is this all, the tonish fair Attend to seek your healing care. When here I've for Sir _Jeffery_ been, } Dames of high figure I have seen, } Lolling behind your folding screen } With all their gay caricatures The lively eye's attractive lures. Broad bonnets all beflower'd o'er, Are often passing through your door, And I have glanc'd at many a shawl That glided through your gloomy hall. When such grand visitors as these Apply to you to give them ease; And when your skill relieves their pain, That is the time their grace to gain, And then, good Doctor, you might see If you could gain a grace for me; While to some patient you commend The service of your humble friend: Nor will he fail returns to make, Which you may condescend to take; And grateful memory will repay Your kindness to his dying day." The modest suit was not denied, And thus, th' assenting Don replied. "QUÆ GENUS, my regards are thine, As sure as my name's ANODYNE. --If worth lay in a flatt'ring tongue, You would not want a service long; For if you do with caution use it, Where is the ear that will refuse it? 'Tis but the art how to apply The well-conceal'd artillery, And, more or less, the well-told tale Will o'er the pliant mind prevail. Your int'rest, friend, I'll not neglect, Perhaps do more than you expect; Nay, I e'en may your mind surprise, When I mark how that int'rest lies;-- But 'tis not where your hopes may look, 'Tis not that page in fortune's book. --The higher folk who come to me Are all involv'd in secrecy: Those who can't walk employ a hack, When they employ the humble quack: Hence, no fine carriages resort About the purlieus of my court, For the rich owners, with their wealth, Blush to pass this bye-way to health. Such is proud fashion's powerful rule O'er many a purse-proud, titled fool: They tell me all their sickness claims, But seem afraid to tell their names. --There's an old man I sometimes see, And faith he brings a handsome fee, Whose hackney always drops his fare Just by, in the adjoining Square: Where, when we've clos'd our consultation, He hobbles to regain his station. In a loose coat of common wear, This person chuses to appear; With his round hat and dingy caxon, He calls himself a Mr. Jackson; Though still his manners and his words Are such as highest rank affords: And, sure as I e'er gave a puke, I know the man to be a duke.-- But I, of course, the secret keep, And let his splendid titles sleep. --I have two ladies now in hand, Whose whims and fancies I command: They tell of humours on the skin, But then they only shew their chin; No other part they let me see, Such is their bashful fantasy. They seem to think I doubt their graces, As veils o'erspread their pimpled faces, So that where'er they chuse to show 'em, I do not think that I should know 'em. Yet by their chat they have betray'd, That one's a wife, and one's a maid: Nor from the names can they refrain Of _Lady Bell_ and _Lady Jane_. They never fail in their appointments, And are fast curing by my ointments: Thus, from their praise, I hope to claim An added honour to my name. Nor are these all; for many more } Of wealth and rank pass through my door; } Though still as I have said before, } They to such aid as mine apply All mask'd in fearful secrecy. These whims I have explain'd, to prove I cannot in this quarter move; And where I could your worth commend It would degrade you to attend. But I shall now unfold to view, Another chance I have for you: And let your patience ope its ear To all you are about to hear. "'Tis not to breathe the tonish air } Of Portland-Place, or Grosv'nor-Square, } Or stand behind her Grace's chair: } 'Tis not to serve the titled beaux, And flourish in your master' clothes: 'Tis not, as you are wont, to grace Some peopled household's highest place, Though well-accomplish'd as you are, 'Tis chance alone can place you there: For, through your days, you may not boast A master such as you have lost; Nay, your precarious life may end Before a master proves a friend; And, after all, old age may come Without an alms-house for a home. Think, think in what a woeful plight The man must live who's pocket's light! Are not his hours by want depress'd? Penurious care corrodes his breast; Without respect, or love, or friends, His solitary day descends. O be not led away by pride, But use the means that may provide For future wants, when evils press, And life is pregnant with distress! Hear me, my friend, nor let surprise With staring looks burst from your eyes, When I, in language frank and free,-- Tell you to come and _live with me_. "Think not I want you for a hack, A serving menial to a quack; If to my interests you attend, } You will be treated as a friend. } On this be sure you may depend, } That you will find a better station, In profit as in inclination, Than were you hired to be solus Behind the chair of Doctor BOLUS. --Within a week, perhaps a day, You'll see the part you have to play. The man I had, whom you have seen, Might still beneath this roof have been, But he by coughing was worn down To a poor gasping skeleton, And 'twere not fit I should endure One in my house I could not cure He would not prove a tempting sign To spread the fame of ANODYNE: But in the time he here remain'd, He had a little fortune gain'd. --Your knowledge, which I well can trace, } Is far above a servant's place, } And would a higher station grace. } The pleasing manners you possess, Your winning speech and nice address, Might call to your ambitious view, An higher state than you pursue; Though still your savings you might waste, Before you're suited to your taste. --Such aid as your's I long have wanted, And if my warm proposal's granted, You must at once grow wond'rous dull, Or soon your pocket will be full: Here, in one year, you will get more Than with your noble lords in four. Nay, on the honour of a friend, Who no deception can intend, You'll greatly err, if you decline Such an official place as mine. --I'll teach you how to cup and bleed; These operations you will need; The pulses' movements you shall know, When they are either high or low: While other symptoms of disease I can communicate with ease. All this, if I the truth discern, Your ready mind will quickly learn. Besides 'tis right to let you know You'll have no nauseous work to do; For the old woman spreads the blisters, Rolls up the pills and stirs the clysters. While 'tis my hand alone composes The patients' necessary doses, And your chief care is to dispense These med'cines with your eloquence. --But I have sick folk to attend, So while away an hour, my friend: And as I trust you'll stay and dine, We'll close our bargain o'er our wine." CANTO VI It often happens as we range Through life, an unexpected change, With sudden stroke may pain destroy And turn our thoughts from grief to joy: Or as some shock cuts off relief May turn a flow of joy to grief. Thus our days' varying system bears Th' alternate play of hopes and fears: Nay, when more pleasant views provoke, May turn our gravity to joke. Besides, as in the Drama's art, The scene displays the varying part, So apt are we to play the fool, We serve for our own ridicule: And when sly Fortune's pleas'd to vary Our progress with some strange vagary, We oft become such merry elves To burst with laughter at ourselves. Thus as QUÆ GENUS pac'd the room, Reflecting on the time to come, And all the heap of promis'd good By ANODYNE to be bestow'd; That he was to be cramm'd with wealth, And turn all sickness into health; His fancy, tickled at the thought, He set each serious wish at nought, And laugh'd till his sides seem'd to crack, To think he should become a Quack. But when he had indulg'd the joke Which this idea might provoke, He thought more gravely of the case And vow'd to take the proffer'd place: At all events, he could but try This self-same scheme of quackery: At least some knowledge he should gain, And knowledge never comes in vain. Indeed, what harm, if he succeed in The arts of cupping and of bleeding? The lancet's power to command Might be of use in any hand, And e'en in any hand might save A forlorn suff'rer from the grave; While he might well instructed be In principles of Pharmacy. He also felt that application Might fit him for a better station; That in some distant country town, He might a _Galen's_ title own: Where, if his fortune did not vary, He might strut an Apothecary. Thus between gravity and smile Conceit play'd its full part the while, Though not without a view to gains Which might reward his present pains: Indeed he knew the means that made 'em, For he had for Sir _Jeffery_ paid 'em: As while for potion, pill and plaister A golden fee awaits the master; He found it was a useful plan, With lesser coin, to fee the man, Who had the means to lift the latch That did the secret wish dispatch; And could th' impatience set to rest Of the more eager, grumbling guest. --Thus, with lively hope high-season'd, QUÆ GENUS walk'd about and reason'd; And, in his Pericranium fast, This grave opinion fix'd at last: If not in honour, yet in purse, _He might go further and fare worse_,-- But if no other good were done, There might be sure a world of fun. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS WITH A QUACK DOCTOR.] Patients that morning had been plenty, Not less it seems than five-and-twenty; This the old woman smiling stated, And told him that the dinner waited. The table shew'd a plenteous treat } Of fish and fowl and sav'ry meat, } But poor QUÆ GENUS scarce could eat. } For, though prepar'd for any diet, His hunger soon repos'd in quiet. The Doctor fed, but talk'd the while, Of gastric juice and flowing bile; Of kidneys and o'ergrowing liver, As of sore eyes now cur'd for ever; What his fam'd _Nostrum_ had perform'd, And how it had the bowels storm'd Of guttling Gourmand with such force, That it a passage made of course, Which three great Doctors tried in vain, With all their boasted skill to gain. Besides our hero did not know How cookery went on below, And he might think, poor dainty sinner, That the same hands had dress'd the dinner, Which were entrusted with the care Each daily med'cine to prepare; To melt the salves and spread anon The cerates and diacolon; That did the drugs or grind or pound, And dress the sore leg's running wound: But so it was, a sick sensation Check'd all his powers of mastication, And caus'd his stomach to resent The very taste of nutriment: Nay his sad appetite approv'd When all the dishes were remov'd. --They therefore soon had ceas'd to dine } And o'er the second pint of wine } The bargain clos'd with ANODYNE. } What that was, it is fit to know, And the verse now will briefly show. QUÆ GENUS had made up his mind Not to his interest to be blind; But in the game that path pursue Which prudence says we ought to do, Nor to let scruples overpower Th' advantage of the passing hour, And yet that artifice restrain Whose daily efforts are for gain: In short to take the middle plan, } Which, as the world is us'd to scan, } Marks what is call'd an _Honest Man_. } He might not hesitate complying With a small spice of useful lying That idle questions might disarm, Do some slight good, but never harm, Afford a sentimental grace To conversation's common place, And give a customary aid To all the retail slang of trade. With mind thus settled and prepar'd He ANODYNE'S first lecture heard. And as it surely was the best, We shall pass over all the rest. ANODYNE. "This the first rule that I shall trace:-- You must command a solemn face; Nor suffer objects to beguile Your features to familiar smile. Here, I must own, you oft may see What may court transient pleasantry; For e'en 'midst misery and pain, You'll find such whims and fancies reign, Hear patients cough and grunt and sneeze In such uncouth, discordant keys, That without care, I should not wonder Your muscles into laugh might blunder. You have a speech runs off at score, As rapid as a chaise and four, But with my sickly folk be slow As a stage-waggon's us'd to go; And pray remember to apply Your words with due solemnity. I know you well can suit your tongue To any age, to old or young; Nor will the task your care perplex In the complaints of either sex; And bear in mind, whate'er you see, To veil your thoughts with modesty: But hear the great and leading rule Of this my Esculapian school. "I care not by what name you call This spacious parlour, room or hall: But here my daily patients range Whose order you must never change: Were I to take them one by one, By Heaven I should ne'er have done; And, therefore, govern'd by their feather I thus assort my birds together. Here, on the right, are duly seated Those who for gouty freaks are treated, Then comes the symptomatic fever, And next the bilious and their liver: Then follow others in their turn, The chills which shake, the heats that burn; The stomachs which will ne'er digest The food their feeders love the best; The wheesers too are not far off, All those who hem and spit and cough, With such, not of the happiest kind, Whose bowels threat to crack with wind The Hypochondres here repose Impatient for the cordial dose, And children on the carpet brawl, Till my spice biscuits calm the squall. "I first review th' assembled tribe Then walk off stately and prescribe, When I consign to your quick sense Th' appropriate med'cines to dispense, To all the classes in your view, } With gentle tone and caution due: } See then how much depends on you. } Each case that asks superior art I send into a room apart; And _there_ I never feel alarm; I play no tricks and do no harm. When I a desp'rate illness see, For patients must not die with me, I recommend them to repair To goat's-milk and the country air; And when such counsel they receive They do not fail to take their leave, Full of my candour and disdain Of any little paltry gain. Deep cuts, sore legs and gummy eyes, With all the common casualties, I with my healing dame bestow, In her snug, secret cell below: Indeed I've sometimes star'd to see The wonders of her surgery. --'Tis true 'mong doctors I'm not famous, But still I'm not an _Ignoramus_; For I can play a skillfull part In elements of chymic art; I give the drafts a varying hue, To-day so red, to-morrow blue, And touch them with a diff'rent savour, To give a worse or better flavour, As it may suit, then change their name, } Though they may be the very same, } Both in their object and their aim. } "It is with me a leading fashion To play thus with imagination; A symptom that doth never cease, Or more or less in all disease. There are sly shifts in ev'ry trade, Which money calls in to its aid: But here I'd have it understood, If when my practice does no good, My conscience never has the qualm, That I do any real harm. Nor are my various cures unknown As placards tell of my renown! My nostrums oft my hopes fulfil, Nor do I know they ever kill. Those cases which I've cause to doubt, And cannot find their symptoms out, I never fail to leave to nature, Who is a wonder-working creature: And my chief cures which make a stir,-- I e'en must own I owe to her.-- --Such the great object of my care.-- Fear not, you will th' advantage share. But know, when all my sick are here, You as _Inferior_ must appear; But business o'er and they are gone, Then good QUÆ GENUS, we are one!" At length the compact was agreed, } And all things promis'd to succeed: } Our Hero soon could cup and bleed; } And, with a kind, officious grace, The med'cine gave in time and place; Nay, as occasion might afford, Bitters improve with sweet'ning word: He had acquir'd the art to please With welcome flatt'ries such as these. "_How stout your legs appear to-day! I trust you have walk'd all the way! And ere that our brief work is done, We shall have taught you how to run!_" "_O madam! how I must rejoice, That you have lost your husky voice; Soon I doubt not that I shall find Your tones are of the sweetest kind_!" "_And that fine face I griev'd to view When cloth'd in such a pallid hue; But I have seen, this passing week, The colour coming on your cheek. And if some ill does not oppose, We soon shall see the tender rose: And hope's a friend that will supply The prospect which, I trust, is nigh_." Now sometimes he would give a scope To his propensity to joke. For 'mid this pale-fac'd, grumbling mess 'Twere well to stir some chearfulness: For if a parson chose to squeeze A lady on her crummy knees, (For here a little play and prate Might cheer a sickly _tête-à-tête_) His whisper might perchance declare, "Doctor, her pulses are not there." --At all events, things went on well, As the pleas'd verse may freely tell; And the young Doctor ne'er complain'd Of what he by his office gain'd. But here we now shall change our road And slip into an _Episode_; It is a common way we know, In which much better poets go: Though pride will not suggest that we Can be accus'd of _poetry_; Yet we must own that, in our time, We have stirr'd up some reams of _Rhyme_. Howe'er that be, we now must come To steer our Hero's walks from home. Among the few who sought the aid Of ANODYNE'S more secret trade, Was one who sent a written case Which did his various symptoms trace: Thus, when the Quack prepar'd the dose, QUÆ GENUS took it snug and close: He only knew the cordial sent, To whom address'd, and where it went: Besides it was his daily task Questions of import grave to ask. How was his pulse? How had he slept? If tremors o'er the system crept? With such enquiries as our verse Might feel it awkward to rehearse. Of that no more, the patient's name Was _Woodlands_, known in rural fame: Through early years, a sportsman he, The flower of hunting chivalry; Was rich, and as he well was able, Saw jovial sportsmen round his table, Drank hard and lov'd the evening glee, With those who drank as hard as he. But gout, with other ills came on, And jovial life was pass'd and gone: Health's active season now was o'er, When he could hunt and feast no more. He sold his hounds and took a wife, To soothe the latter years of life; But they were few, as we shall see, In spite of care and Quackery. She was a _Belle_ of rural fame, Who gave her troth and bore his name: Whate'er had been her hopes and views When she did an old husband chuse, The knowledge we do not profess, But leave the gen'rous mind to guess. At all events, her outward mien, As it should be had always been, Nor had a jealous eye suspected Her duty had been e'er neglected. But as infirm he now was grown, } At her desire, he came to town } To seek Physicians of renown. } He first had one, he then had two, But their prescriptions did not do; When still her care prevail'd, and she Another sought, so he had three; And no more good seem'd to be done, Than if he had been seen by none. --Thus matters stood, nay he grew worse When an old busy, chattering nurse, Talk'd of the cures, almost divine, Of our friend Doctor ANODYNE. The drowning catch at any reed, And all is help in desp'rate need: Thus the rich man propos'd to try The boasted aid of Quackery, And what he wish'd, Amelia said, With anxious smile, must be obey'd. --Thus then it is, as we have seen, QUÆ GENUS has the attendant been; But now we are about to see What a snug _Proteus_ he can be. The Lady, to his great surprise, Oft view'd him with enquiring eyes, And did a kind attention show Which he thought queer she should bestow, But he soon found the matter out; Madam herself clear'd up the doubt, As, in her _Boudoir's_ still recess, She did her quiet thoughts express. In a soft, pleasant tone she spoke, As half in earnest half in joke; But as she thus her mind unveil'd, It might be seen what thought prevail'd. "There's something in your air and face } That tells me you will not disgrace } The trust which I now wish to place } In your obedience to my will; And if you do that trust fulfil, If you act up to my intent, QUÆ GENUS never shall repent." --His fingers on his lips he press'd, He clos'd his hands upon his breast; With most submissive air he bow'd, And secresy he swore and vow'd; When Madam _Woodlands_ thus proceeded: (I scarce need add that she succeeded.) "You do a Doctor's business ply; Now do not stare,--for so do I: There is a pale-fac'd patient too Whose certain cure I have in view, And I've a med'cine that will prove Specific,--as he's sick of love; It will, in time, set all at ease, And cure the pangs of his disease; For no prescription can be better Than that contain'd within this letter, Which you, my friend, must understand To give into the patient's hand. Believe me too, when you are told, You'll find it worth its weight in gold. --There is," she said, "a smile I see Now stealing on your gravity; But know, QUÆ GENUS I do nought That is with base dishonour fraught; My whims, though secret, common-sense Will clothe in garb of innocence."-- In short, but not without a fee, He took the balmy recipe, And ev'ry time he bore a letter The patient's case was growing better. Thus fortune kindly did bestow Two strings to our keen Hero's bow; And to his wishes, in good troth, He reap'd no common gains from both. --But here, another lucky hour Did on his hopes new promise pour: For Madam _Woodlands_ more than hinted, If, in his present projects stinted, He should no longer wish to shine With Quackery and ANODYNE, He might, by her all-fav'ring grace, Attain her household's highest place. He saw, and not by way of whim, This was the very place for him; But still he felt he could not quit, As in a momentary fit, That state he to the Doctor ow'd, And which such benefit bestow'd; Then, without proper warning, leave him, Or with some scurvy tale deceive him, He saw in any point of view That honour prompts, it would not do. Thus, in a state of constant doubt, He scarce knew what he was about, And to the daily patients gave Their med'cines just as chance would have. To all diseases waiting there } He did not e'en appear to care } What was the complaint or where, } If it was fever or the gout; But left each dose to find it out. --Thus strange indeed, but it appear'd The healing shop would soon be clear'd, The patients calmly pass'd away; } Nay, some of them were rather gay, } And fees forsook th' impoverish'd day. } When this change our QUÆ GENUS saw, He thought awhile and felt an awe, When it struck sudden on his sense, That his so wicked negligence, Had caus'd, perhaps, the final doom Of many an inmate of the room; But, on a fearful search, he found, Not one of them was under ground, Nay, that by giving med'cines wrong, He did their precious lives prolong; At least no harm they had endur'd, For by his blund'ring they were cur'd. Shrewd ANODYNE, of course, suspected That his prime bus'ness was neglected; Indeed he clearly understood QUÆ GENUS did more harm than good, And therefore, without much delay, Hinted in a good-humour'd way, "You're tir'd, my friend, as it appears, (Of which I've sometime had my fears) You're tir'd of the _Galenic Art_; 'Twere better, therefore, that we part." QUÆ GENUS made a calm reply, With acquiescing modesty: Nor was a harsh, unpleasant word From these dissolving Doctors, heard. In truth, each party was good-hearted; So they shook hands and thus they parted. Our _Proteus_ now is seen to grace Another and a favour'd place; The confidential servant he In 'Squire _Woodlands'_ family: But the poor 'Squire was hast'ning fast To that sad hour which prov'd his last; For soon, alas, the fatal gout Got in his head, and let life out; When Madam made a quick retreat From town to the fine country seat Which now was her's, with all the rest Of the great wealth which he possess'd. What tears the widow'd Lady shed In sorrow o'er her husband dead, Whether as they her cheeks bedew'd, They flow'd from grief or gratitude; How calm or poignant was her woe, We tell not, for we do not know. Yet this we can with safety tell, Because we surely know it well, That through her husband's sickly life She was a tender nurse and wife. --But now another scene appears, Dispers'd her grief, dried up her tears; Rich as she was and still a beauty, She look'd to change her line of duty; 'Twas Nature's act, as all will see Who read her little history. In earlier years, ere she was led By Hymen to the marriage bed, VALCOUR and she each other lov'd, But their fond passion hopeless prov'd. --She was high-bred with fortune small, And his Commission was his all: For though he was of ancient line } And did with noble virtues shine, } He was the youngest child of nine; } And ere her marriage rites were o'er He sought renown on India's shore. What he thus bravely sought he found, And once more trod on British ground, With that, but little else beside, A month before Old Woodlands died. He let her hear that still he lov'd, She wrote, nor said she disapprov'd; That was the recipe to cure The doubts his bosom might endure; In which QUÆ GENUS was employ'd, And caus'd the good he now enjoy'd. --But then she acted with discretion; As her fond husband's sole possession She would not, at his last, allow The promise of a future vow: She felt her tender inclination, As a reversionary passion She must not own for him she lov'd, Till Death each hindrance had remov'd. For due decorum she obey'd, And the sage widow's period stay'd; Nor till Time pull'd the Hatchment down, Did she her _Valcour's_ wishes crown: But crown'd they were; a splendid show Did Fortune on the rites bestow, When Hymen call'd on Love to shower Its roses o'er the nuptial bower. QUÆ GENUS did the sports contrive Which kept the country-folk alive, And all the scatter'd bounties flow'd As his disposing hand bestow'd, Nor did one over-curious mind Suspect that any lurk'd behind. Nay, it was order'd to his care } The gen'ral figure to prepare } That was to blaze in Portman-Square. } He, who had sometime form'd the plan To set up for a _Gentleman_, Well knew the purse alone could aid The progress of that pretty trade, And now had learn'd, quite at his ease, To take the upper servant's fees, Which to fulfil his growing aim, In a resistless plenty came. --VALCOUR was grand, his _Eastern Taste_ Was not dispos'd to run to waste; Madam had never yet made known Her beauty to th' admiring town, And ready wealth was now at hand Their mutual wishes to command: Plutus with Fashion standing by } Impatient languish'd to supply } Each wish of glowing luxury. } The tonish trade display'd its store Where our QUÆ GENUS kept the door; In various forms, a numerous host All strove who should affect him most, And by what tempting means engage, His trusty, promis'd patronage. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS WITH A SPENDTHRIFT.] Whene'er enquiry makes a stir To trace the human character, The strict and scrutinising eye Must look for human frailty, And will perceive as on we range, Our dispositions prone to change, Nor like the features of the face, Fix'd on their first-born, native place. So many tempting Sirens play Their games to lead the heart astray, So many gay temptations smile The wav'ring prudence to beguile; So many worldly interests wake The pliant feelings to forsake And wander from the beaten road In which they hitherto have trod; That reason from her judgement-seat Must, with a tender rigour, treat The venial errors of the mind, And in severity be kind. --Our Hero an example shews To ask the candour we propose, For he, we are compell'd to own, Had given his thoughts a different tone. As we have said, it was his plan To be a _future Gentleman_, And that he only could attain By seizing all the means to gain An added heap to that same store Which luck'ly he possess'd before. He, therefore, now had laid aside Those scruples which his boasted pride Maintain'd against the retail sense Of the shrewd _Grocer's_ eloquence, While, with Sir _Jeffery Gourmand_, he Preserv'd such pure fidelity. --And here it should not be forgot That it was _Molly's_ happy lot, By some keen plan which he had laid, To be the Lady's fav'rite maid: For _Molly_ he sincerely lov'd, And was with gen'rous passion mov'd; Nay, when his project he should carry, He had engag'd the maid to marry: Thus she was well prepar'd to join In forwarding the main design; Which as it may, perhaps, appear From the surmises hinted here, Was never, never to refuse What custom offer'd as their dues, And all the op'ning hand of chance Might gather from extravagance. How far this system may succeed Will soon be seen by those who read. This VALCOUR was a noble creature, Splendid and gen'rous in his nature; Nor had these feelings been decreas'd By the profusion of the East, Which he from well-earn'd station shar'd; But honour was his chief reward. He no amass'd Pagodas brought Whence treasures are so often sought: Yet he, the favour'd lot of few, As they bright fortune's track pursue, Though India gave him mod'rate store, Found plenteous wealth on Britain's shore. --Full many a well fought field he try'd, And MARS beheld his course with pride, Nay bade the wreath of triumph glow The Hero's pride, upon his brow, While Knighthood's pointed star express'd The tinsel glitter on his breast. But VENUS, who such things disposes Chang'd all the laurel into roses; And HYMEN did his state enfold In saffron mantle, rich with gold. As Nature in its fancies varies, Sir CHARLES indulg'd in his vagaries, With a wild love of shew and figure; Yet still he was resolv'd with rigour, A line of prudence to pursue And keep discretion in his view. Full droll indeed it may appear But thus he chose to persevere: Not to run out was all that he Consider'd as oeconomy; If his rents answer'd what he spent He'd bless his stars and be content; But never did his views appear To look upon the coming year. Nor e'er did he his mind distress To know if he could live on less: Nay at the thought how he would laugh, When told that he could live on half, And felt affront, if 'twere repeated That by his servants he was cheated. --Such a receipt to pamper ruin Nay to hurry an undoing, Has seldom given so queer a chance To gratify extravagance. --But so it was--QUÆ GENUS thought Just as the rising fancy taught: While, in mock fashion's borrow'd pride, MOLLY was seated by his side. Now as her needle made its way Some 'broider'd figure to display, Thinking, perhaps, how well her art Gave semblance to a two-fold heart; He fondly call'd her willing ear With all attention due to hear. QUÆ GENUS. "Plac'd as we are, it seems to be The height of that prosperity Which such as we can e'er enjoy; And it becomes us to employ The means it offers to possess Our views of future happiness. I doubt not, MOLLY, but you feel, For your sweet lady, all the zeal, Which flows alike from due regard As the just hope of due reward: But still, I think, it must appear That we've a doubtful course to steer; How we may keep within the line, } Our great folks' interest to combine } With what we know is yours and mine. } They are with generous grace endued, To us how kind they are and good. But life with them is nought but pleasure; Luxurious show fills up the measure Of all their hours, as they run on Through each meander of the Ton. They sometimes talk of prudent schemes, And reason's language veils the dreams; But the incessant love of change Invites the unreflecting range 'Neath ev'ry dome where pride resorts And fashion holds her motley courts; Though while they for their pleasures roam We too well know their cost at home. This proud parade can never last, Their ready wealth will soon be past. --Nay, when I bring the month's account, And silent point to the amount; He tells my Lady what I've done, And she exclaims, ''tis precious fun!-- We need not for our ruin fear With such a careful guardian near!' When I point out the triple charge In many a bill display'd at large, She says, 'QUÆ GENUS, do not grieve, Tradesmen, my honest friend, must live! Nay, when from service you retire, And sit all plodding by your fire In thought what profits should repay The labours of the closing day;-- When o'er some door we see your name, } A dealer of great retail fame, } You have our leave to do the same.' } "I made my bow and answer'd nought, But then I paid it off in thought; And, as their gen'rous leave they give, Like others to play tricks and live, I may begin, perhaps, before My name is painted on the door; And, in good time, my fortune try With that same prosp'ring honesty. --I tell you, MOLLY, 'tis as clear As we, dear girl, are sitting here, That our great folks were both created So rich, please fortune, to be cheated. And we must aid them, as you see, Thus to fulfil their destiny. For trifles we'll not make a fuss, They will not be the worse for us: If we do not our pockets fill, Others there are who quickly will, But not by any paltry gains, As pilfering of _Sovereigns_. You must not crib a handsome shawl And say 'twas lost at such a ball; Nor will you in some corner place A card or roll of costly lace, That when you think she has forgot it, You to your own use may allot it:-- Nor, when she gives a thrice-worn dress Your vanity and wish to bless, Do not within its wide folds smother, As if by chance, just such another, As she'd not miss it 'mid such plenty A wardrobe of full five-and-twenty, While others, 'mid the toilet's din Are almost daily pouring in. Can we such means as these pursue?-- Would it be just in me and you: Though I guess by your waggish smile, What you are thinking of the while. But still I feel it is not right That you should lose your perquisite; Nor do I, my dear girl, incline E'er to forego the claim to mine, And tempting opportunity May tell us what those claims should be, As 'tis our right to seize the chance That's furnish'd by extravagance, When call'd upon to prove our taste In saving what would run to waste; For rumpled fin'ry, all thrown by, Is safer in our custody. --When t'other day the Knight bespoke A new great-coat and Hussar cloak; 'Sure, Sir,' I said, 'you have forgot Of these same coverings what a lot, Neither be-spotted, scratch'd or torn And some of them have scarce been worn, Which are all hanging in the hall:'-- 'They're old,' he said, 'so take them all.' --I bow'd and took them to my keeping; Snug in my wardrobe they are sleeping. It is the same, I know it well, You of your Lady have to tell: I doubt not but your hoard encreases Of Spencers, mantles and pelisses: But let it be our mutual boast That sage precaution rules the roast; And take care that we never deal in Any thing that looks like stealing. My books are fair, accounts are right, In them my honour's sound and tight: Valet I am and Butler both, A rare advantage to our cloth, And there's no day, nay scarce an hour But tempting profits court my power, Yet may dread _Heaven_ above forsake me, And _Old Nick_ in his fury take me, If I the pilf'ring track pursue Which hireling knaves so often do. When from the shopmen we receive The somethings they are us'd to give As their long, bouncing bills are paid, 'Tis not our Knight is tax'd, but trade, Though should we not our poundage claim _Sum Totals_ would be just the same. --E'en when, as if a boon, I crave Some superfluity to save, Perhaps he'll tell me I'm a fool, Or threat to floor me with a stool. --Last week, he said, 'at our next fête, (Mind what I say and hold your prate) Let the desert in splendour shine With gay plateaus and many a pine.' When as, to check the cost's encrease, I hinted what they were a piece, He ranted, 'if there are not _five_, Thou slave, I'll cut you up alive. Dare you look piteous? for then You scurvy clown, I'll order _ten_.' "These gay delusions cannot last, The spendthrift scene will soon be past; And, in another year or two You'll see that what I say is true. When Banker's checks, that easy pay Like fancy's ghosts have pass'd away, When the whole funded wealth is sold Another story will be told; When all the ready cash is flown, The country-rents will change their tone, Nor will the half-grown oaks supply The means for one year's luxury. Crabbed Entail will rise beside } And dare the acres to provide } The power to feed their needy pride, } And Mortgage-deeds in vain will strive To keep the piteous show alive. While thus the vain folk whom we serve, Do from each point of prudence swerve, While thus they waste in such a way, To Luxury the willing prey, I know, my girl, what I've to do, And faith, shall leave the rest to you!" MOLLY. "My dearest friend, you are so clever, That I could hear you talk for ever. Let not QUÆ GENUS be afraid, He ne'er shall want my ready aid; For surely to his heart 'tis known, } His ev'ry interest is my own, } At least I feel that we are one. } O yes, I comprehend him well!" But now she heard her Lady's bell, A summons that must be attended,-- So here the conversation ended. Thus VALCOUR and his brilliant dame Attain'd their folly's highest aim, To scale the ladder of the Ton As many wealthy fools have done, And laugh, if they should hear the call, "Your foot may slip and you may fall." They did in every thing agree, With the same eye each object see. "Whate'er you fancy must appear So very right my dearest dear!-- And whatsoe'er you do approve, Cannot be wrong, my sweetest love!" --Such was their billing and their cooing, As they were hast'ning on to ruin; Nor did they see that _Fashion_ laugh'd, While she their costly nectar quaff'd; Or 'mid the crowds that might attend Their banquets, they had not a friend. But such too often is the case Where Folly takes the highest place; And upstart fortune fain would be The ape of rank and family. There vulgar wealth pays dear for places With Lordships, Ladyships and Graces, Who at its table may appear } Or once or twice or thrice a year, } When luxury does the feast prepare; } And yet their host but coldly greet, If they should meet him in the street. --But true or not, howe'er that be, In this career of vanity, Winter's fine pleasures pass'd away And Summer made the country gay, While fashion now set out to grace The Country seat and Wat'ring place, VALCOUR and MADAME now were seen Parading on the Brighton Stein, But where, though envied and admir'd, With the same scenes they soon were tir'd: Besides 'twas decent to retreat And give life to their ancient seat. Thus while th' astonish'd Natives stare _Woodlands_ receiv'd the tonish pair; While they the rural 'Squires surprise } With splendid hospitalities; } And even here the money flies. } The Knight when sporting in the East, Was wont to hunt the brindled beast, Or the long, pointed jav'lin plant From castled back of elephant, In the fierce tiger's spotted side, And gloried when the savage died: He therefore would not deign to share The conquest o'er a tim'rous hare; Nor push on in a break-neck pace Through all his wiles the fox to chace. But when the sportsmen left their game, And weary to his mansion came, Which they were always glad to do, Whene'er that mansion was in view, QUÆ GENUS heard the orders gay To be fulfill'd without delay, As the loud and welcome brawl Re-echoed through the lofty hall,-- "Prepare, that my good friends may dine, The turkey and the smoking chine, The pasty and whate'er is best To furnish out an instant feast! Be sure 'tis your attentive task, } To give them all that they may ask, } The bowl, the tankard and the flask;" } But then the Knight in whispers hinted, "When you perceive my time is stinted, And both my deafen'd ears no more Can bear the Bacchanalian roar; When it appears the stupid asses Scarce know the bottles from the glasses, Nor can perceive, 'mid boosing laughter, That I am only sipping water; When I shall unperceiv'd retire, } Remember it is my desire, } _They do not set the house on fire_." } --Thus, when o'erwhelm'd with sporting guest, Sir CHARLES his constant wish express'd, And, after many a vain essay, Contriv'd at last to steal away, With something like an aching head, To seek the refuge of his bed. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS ATTENDS ON A SPORTING FINALE.] In drunken freaks QUÆ GENUS knew Sense was oft gone and feeling too; That legs might tables overturn, And fallen lights would flare and burn; Nay, flaming mischief might attend On lighted snuff and candle's end. Thus to be safe, without delay The threat'ning lights he bore away, And, to avoid a falling spark, Left parties snoring in the dark. Thus stretching as their limbs were able, On chair, on floor or on table, QUÆ GENUS did not own a fear That there was any danger near, So left them till the day should break And fev'rish nature bid them wake; When, yawning round the sporting closet, Some groom brought in their morning posset; And, hobbling off as they were able To mount their horses at the stable, They left the Knight their humble thanks, Hop'd Madam would excuse their pranks, And sought their homes, perhaps, to hear A wife talk loud in either ear. Such were the jovial sportsmen's meetings And these their hospitable greetings; But rural dames who were received With kindness while old _Woodlands_ liv'd, As they found such an alter'd state Ne'er enter'd twice the mansion gate: The 'Squires' wives would ne'er resort To one so chang'd to pay their court; And, though she was with title crown'd, The proud acquaintance they disown'd. Brimful of town conceits and folly, My Lady now grew melancholy; And when the sporting season came Her daily looks were not the same: That time of noisy, jovial joy, Did ev'ry lively sense annoy, Nor would she any reas'ning hear.-- "To Town we'll haste away, My Dear! Let us be gone without delay: To London let us haste away! These rooms where staring figures sprawl In ancient hangings on the wall, Nay, where at noon, the shaded light Gives dimness of approaching night, Which nought can chearful make and gay, Or give the semblance bright of day, But that well-dress'd, high-minded glee That here, alas, we never see, Which could alone from this dull room, Snatch the grim likeness of a tomb! Let us be gone without delay, To London let us haste away!" --She gave a piteous look and sigh'd, When, with soft grace, Sir CHARLES replied. "As such is your desire, My Love, To Town we quickly will remove; If it will soothe my charmer's sorrow, We will set out for Town to-morrow. But have you thought, my dearest Dear, That not a creature will be there? Will you not find we shall be hurl'd Into a lifeless, empty world; Where, till the winter near approaches You will see nought but Hackney coaches? I'm sure you'll think yourself quite undone, If you're a month alone in London. To your gay spirit Oh how dull On a soft window-seat to loll, And count with your half-sleeping eye How many _Nobodies_ go by! While mothers with their babies tell, What sick'ning stuff they have to sell, When from their ceaseless screaming noises, You ask for what Heaven gave them voices: Till like the fiddler in a rage, Which you have seen in Hogarth's page, You stop your ears, with anger burn, And cry 'to _Woodlands_, let's return.' I'd rather sit and yawn, I own, Here in the country than in town, Where to dull club-rooms I must go, } E'en in the streets no creature know, } And ride alone in Rotten-Row. } But be it as you wish."--"Then I," The Dame delay'd not to reply, "Desire such orders you will give That we, with prompt dispatch, may leave This stupid spot and hurry strait With post horse gallop through the gate, And when we've got a dozen mile, I then will thank you, Love, and smile. Yes, I will bid adieu to care, } Though not a soul in Portman-Square, } When once I see that I am there. } Believe me I would rather hear As sounds more pleasing to my ear, Fishwomen's cries along the street, Than noisy sportsmen when they meet, Whose noisy, vulgar, drunken brawl So often echoed in our Hall. The Town, perhaps, is not so full, But London never can be dull: Thin as it may be, or e'en thinner, We shall find folk to eat our dinner, And though no crowd will throng at present, Our little parties will be pleasant. The Drama too presents its play To make the evening pass away; Blue hills delight and lawns so green When they are painted on the scene; O how I like the woods and rocks When I can view them from a box!-- I'm charm'd with such a rural sight When it is seen by candle-light. We shall to pass our time contrive, And keep our pretty selves alive, Till the world rolls to Town amain:-- Then we shall be ourselves again." --They were themselves, and suffer'd pride Still to remain their fatal guide, And to bring on that period near, When Folly claim'd its full arrear. It is not needful for our rhyme To tell how long or short the time Which the vain Spendthrift Genius thought Was fit to bring their schemes to nought. All we shall say is, with the song, "The days of pleasure ne'er are long." And, if to proverbs we resort, "The days of sorrow ne'er are short." And here it is but truth to tell, That our QUÆ GENUS acted well. For never, as his duty call'd, When home affairs were so enthrall'd, That ere the Winter months would end There would be no more coin to spend, Nor credit found to give the swing To gay manoeuvres through the Spring, He did not from his master's ears Conceal the state of his affairs; And though, too oft receiv'd with scorn, Gave hints, but still they fail'd to warn. --At length, howe'er, the period came From fashion's list to blot their name; When it was vain for pride to look In the card-rack or porter's book, While the old guard might sit and snore, But rarely summon'd to the door; That door, of late, so seldom quiet From lounging call or pleasure's riot, Unless it, with less noisy stir, Announc'd some threat'ning visiter. --Encreasing wants began to press, And all things threaten'd that distress Which vanity knows not to bear, } That pride contemplates with despair, } Yet spurns regenerating care; } And a pale demon seems to see In form of sage oeconomy. The scene thus drawing to a close, } Friends, aye, and faithful ones arose, } With their best aid to interpose, } And VALCOUR found, when least expected, That falling he was not neglected. For he was lov'd by all who knew The virtues whence his follies grew; And some of these so active were As to preserve him from the snare Of Us'rer's gripe and Lawyer's strife, That seem'd to threat his future life. They did with counsel sage persuade And brought the ready, golden aid, Which check'd the powers that did enslave him, Before it was too late to save him. The well-weigh'd scheme which prudence chose Was rather an unsav'ry dose: Madam, at first, declar'd it treason; But humbled pride was taught to reason. Enough was spar'd to share the dance And gay festivities of France; With promise, when five years were o'er, They should regain the British shore; And, on repassing _Woodlands_ gate, Would find a noble, freed estate; And, from their follies past remov'd, Reside respected and belov'd. Now, all this serious bustle over, They sought, and soon set sail from, Dover, And, in the common period, found Their footsteps meas'ring Gallic ground. QUÆ GENUS saw them to the sea, Then gave a look of sympathy, And, with respectful rev'rence said, "When you again Old England tread, To re-enjoy my happy station I will quit any situation, And I dare boast you will receive me, As true and faithful as you leave me!" --To France he was not quite inclin'd, And MOLLY chose to stay behind; So both brush'd up their sep'rate graces, To go in search of _other places_.-- For, 'twas not yet our Hero's plan To set up for a GENTLEMAN. CANTO VII In the world's ever varying range There scarce can be a greater change Than from the hourly means of carving Without reserve, to hints of starving; From the men-cooks' superior waste To fireless kitchen's cold repast; From ham and fowl and beef and veal, To a lean shoulder's third day meal, From well-skimm'd broths, to greasy pot,-- But this was now our Hero's lot: And here, perhaps, it may be fair To ask what chance could bring him there; For expectation sure might think That he would rather soar than sink, At least, he would his rank maintain Among High-Life's domestic train, And still display the priggish air, In some fine street or splendid square, Instead of opening the door In _Humbug-Buildings_, Number FOUR; Well known, as we shall shortly see, For weighty scenes of Usury. --How he this curious post obtain'd, Without reserve will be explain'd. My Lady VALCOUR, as 'tis known To hap sometimes to Dames of Ton, When sudden wants were set on edge Might look a precious stone to pledge, To raise a hasty sum or so She did not wish Sir CHARLES to know; For little systems of disguise } Are seldom seen to cause surprise } In the best order'd families. } MOLLY she fail'd not to employ In care of any glittering toy, Which might so very useful be In moments of necessity: But this strange, awkward kind of trade Was far from pleasant to the maid, As she, to 'scape from prying eyes Was told to change her air and size, And, to perform her work complete, To be a perfect counterfeit: In short, as was not uncommon, To make herself another woman. She therefore, thought it best to ask QUÆ GENUS to perform the task; And old John SQUEEZE was recommended, Who kindly to such wants attended: Though some who lov'd a joke to crack, Would laugh, and call him _Squeezing JACK_. In a snug corner of the town, To nameless spendthrifts too well known, The miser liv'd, if life it be Whose meat and drink was usury; For the old Hunx was ne'er content, Unless he gain'd his _Cent. per Cent._; And as all traffic with this Elf Was secret interchange of pelf, He fear'd not the rapacious paw Of daily violated law.-- Diamonds that did 'mong ringlets blaze, And caught the night's admiring gaze; The necklace that from snowy neck Did in its cluster'd fashions break On swelling bosom, plac'd to share The beauty nature planted there; The rows of pearl that gave a charm To the round grace of taper arm: The bright drops which each sister ear Does with an equal splendour bear; And dazzling circles that are seen Of rubies red, of em'ralds green, And sapphires blue, whose blended rays The rainbow to the hand conveys, All these, at times, are forc'd to rest Within the miser's gloomy chest: In iron darkness there to wait A longer or a shorter date, Till gold's redeeming power shall say, Come and re-brighten on the day. On errands of this grave intent, QUÆ GENUS now and then was sent, And how he did his plans arrange, Or in what shape place the exchange; How he contriv'd these sly affairs, Paid soon, or lengthen'd the arrears, Of this we know not more nor less, } For we ne'er heard his tongue confess, } And 'twould be wasting time to guess. } But, somehow, he contriv'd to please, By grace or guile, old Master SQUEEZE, And by some strange, peculiar art, He gain'd upon the Us'rer's heart, If an heart such a being owns, Who chuckles when misfortune moans, At least, when that is understood To be a vessel fraught with good. But to proceed, the mind's keen eye Of _Squeezing Jack_, thought he could spy In our QUÆ GENUS that quick sense, Which might reward his confidence; That wary, penetrating thought, Which could not be too dearly bought, And in his present, sickly trim, Would be of golden use to him: For he grew old and wanted aid, In his nice calculating trade. In short, in every point of view, } As one who certain fancies knew, } The old man felt that he would do, } And that he could his interest make A station at the desk to take. Not the first time on business bent, } Though 'twas the last by MOLLY sent, } Our Hero to the office went, } With his redeeming coin to pay And fav'rite gems to bear away, He was desir'd to give an ear To the proposal he should hear, When _Squeezing John_ in cautious strain Did thus his secret wish explain. "--From what I know and all I see, You soon will be at liberty, The gentry to whom you belong Will not require your service long; And 'twould be well were you to take The offer which I now shall make: That is, as you already see, To come, my friend, and live with me. I hope no thought your mind engages, About such petty things as wages, I would not wish you to receive What common spendthrift masters give; I exercise a better way All such as serve me well to pay: Your bed and board will lib'ral be, } For you will live as well as me, } Such is my home oeconomy. } As for the service you will find Its profits fully to your mind; If you my interests understand, Your own will follow hand in hand; Nay, I my promise shall maintain, That you a pretty fortune gain. All I ask is, that you will be The pattern of fidelity, Which my observing eye has seen To others you have lately been; I have, my friend, but one word more, And then my speechifying's o'er: 'Twill answer ev'ry purpose better And I shall hold myself your debtor, For reasons you shall plainly see, If you will wear your livery, For that can never be disgrace Which soon will gain superior place." QUÆ GENUS thought he could but try, If but from curiosity, Though some have said that then he view'd The future freaks that he pursued. Thus at the desk he soon was seated To learn how folly could be cheated, And to consent to play the rogue With any spendthrift vice in vogue, That did in pleasure's round perplex In any form, in either sex. The gains were great, nay almost certain, While pride so slyly drew the curtain, Indeed, it was so nicely clos'd, That the rich schemes were ne'er expos'd. --At first, a kind of gen'rous feeling, A sense of honourable dealing, Dispos'd him, with some doubts, to look Into the Broker's daily book, While he oft dipp'd his pen and thought, Ere he the huge per-centage wrote: Nay, he could pity the distress Which did upon their bosoms press, When, thus to pay for ill-bought pleasure, They yielded up their gayest treasure. --But then he mutter'd, "Where's the shame? Others, like us, would do the same: If we were now to shut up shop, Others into the place would pop; Extravagance would have its run And fools speed on to be undone. And their sad wants would be supplied, } If _John_ had laid his schemes aside, } Or had turn'd Methodist and died." } Thus interest to our Hero clung To stifle sense of right and wrong; And so at once he bade adieu To Conscience for a year or two: But, when attain'd the wish'd for store, It should resume its former power. Thus, at the opening of his trade, He a most curious bargain made With the Divinity within, To help him on through thick and thin. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS IN THE SERVICE OF A MISER But now, a Fair One will appear, About her four-and-twentieth year; Though, whatsoe'er may be her age, She must be brought upon the stage, Blooming and gay and form'd to please, By the old man was call'd his niece, And, though there were some doubts we know, It turn'd out she was truly so. All saw that he was fond of Miss, Would often give and take a kiss, And even with his money part, To purchase smiles and make her smart. Abroad she was not us'd to roam But Novels read and stay'd at home. The pantry's boon, so lean and spare, Was forc'd on her unwilling care; For when Old Avarice complain'd Of the great cost his life sustain'd, He ne'er forgot, 'mong human ills, The baker's and the butcher's bills: But 'twas her interest to be The slave of his oeconomy. --An errand-man and one poor maid, Were all who gave the household aid: They were to am'rous purpose bent So fed on love and were content; And as QUÆ GENUS touch'd the _Money_, Which was his fount of _Milk_ and _Honey_; His easy stomach never car'd How lean the joint on which he far'd. --It was his interest to agree, In all things with Miss EMILY, As she could humour Uncle SQUEEZE, And now and then possess the keys: Nor could she shape her main design Unless QUÆ GENUS would combine The hobbling _Old One_ to deceive, And let in _Friends_ without his leave. She gave him physic, tuck'd his bed, The pillow smooth'd to rest his head; Then all around the curtains drew, And having spoke the night's adieu, Would gaily hasten down below To smile upon the favour'd beau Whom her commanding Billet-doux Had summon'd to an interview. From Uncle JOHN's great hoard of wealth, And the old man's declining health, 'Twas thought she soon would be a prize Which smart young men might idolize; That a great fortune Miss would be From heirdom or by legacy: While lovers, therefore, not a few, Had pass'd before her in review, Her kind warm heart might not disown That she had fix'd her thoughts on one; And he it was who had the power To share with her an evening hour. But to the point, which even love Could not from her keen thoughts remove: The Lady did not long delay Thus the prime secret to convey, "I have a precious plan, QUÆ GENUS, And if 'tis manag'd well between us, We may, as I know how, contrive, To make our mutual int'rests thrive. I have already something done, As you will hear, for _Number ONE_, And there's another scheme will do, As you will know, for _Number TWO_. My uncle's wealth is that of _Croesus_, But how he'll leave it, Heaven bless us, I know not, nay, the trembling elf, May not as yet be sure himself; Though he, perhaps, may leave the whole To Charity, to save his soul.-- Some folk have thought to make a will, Is signal given for Death to kill, But should he an intestate, die, The long expecting family, Will feed the greedy, gaping maw, Of griping, grinding, hungry Law. For though I am the next of kin, Such various claimants will rush in, Such troops of distant, country cousins, Will haste by scores, at least by dozens; So many Lawyers may appear, To promise each an ample share, That in what way these things may end, If fortune be my foe or friend, I wish, by all means, to ensure Some independent sinecure, And as you must the labour bear, You will a just advantage share. But not an atom of his wealth Must we attempt to take by stealth, No, though we could this night convey, As a sure, undiscover'd prey, His iron chest with all the gold And brilliant treasure it may hold. I only ask my views to aid But a small portion of his trade, And while above his riches flow, We may make mod'rate gains below, And what of that by us is done, Must be from funds which are our own." --The parties were at once agreed, And the scheme fail'd not to succeed: Nay, had stern fate the stroke delay'd, A decent fortune they had made; But as it was, their transient gain Gave them no reason to complain. --Now, ere twelve months or more were past, JOHN SQUEEZE, alas! had breath'd his last; And though they search'd the mansion round, A Will was no where to be found; And relatives in numbers came, Their rights to prove, their shares to claim; While the shrewd Miss AMELIA SQUEEZE Lock'd ev'ry box and kept the keys. --With angry threats the house resounded, It was confusion worse confounded; While she secure in prudent savings, Calmly beheld their idle ravings, As different ways they did pursue, Which diff'rent Lawyers bade them do. --And here we cannot overlook The wary way the lady took. Her favourite swain, it must be known, A Pleader was of some renown; To whom this offer she propos'd, With which the learned Lawyer clos'd. "If of the wealth of Old JOHN SQUEEZE, Of whom you know I am the Niece, You prove me to be lawful Heir, My charms and fortune you shall share." --Thus she was left amid the paws Of Lawyers and the tardy Laws, With chance that when ten years were past, A husband she might get at last. --Not as such union often ends, She and QUÆ GENUS parted friends: But ere Old SQUEEZE'EM was dispos'd, Ere the cold marble o'er him clos'd, Our Hero had a gracious tender From _JACOB LEVI, Money-Lender_. He, having had some kind of feeling With JOHN in his usurious dealing, Observ'd QUÆ GENUS, who had been Just such an useful go-between, As would find favour in the sight Of the keen, cautious Israelite, Who, therefore, with inviting grace, Offered him his vacant place. The proverb says it is a curse To go at once from bad to worse, And though, at first, he did not feel it, Time was determin'd to reveal it. --Of late, or more or less, 'tis true, Distress was in his frequent view, But then in its prevailing feature, It was but of a transient nature. A proud man for a whole week's date Might cease, perhaps, to eat off plate, Still, Dresden service could supply A varying scene of luxury: Or vanity might not resort To aid the splendour of a Court, From absent state of decoration, Required by certain rank and station: But, for a time, well-fram'd excuses Custom or fashion ne'er refuses; When soon again the plate is seen, The silver-smith has made it clean, And in a week, or month, or so, It will resume its usual show. Again the glitt'ring gems display At the gay Fête the dazzling ray, On having done the appointed duty To ease the wants of pride and beauty. But now another scene succeeds, } The pledge is turn'd from glitt'ring beads } To mortgages and title-deeds; } The short-liv'd search of ready-rhino By imps of Loo or of Cassino; Or to stop short a lawyer's threats, And dunning for a tradesman's debts; These yield to frightful views of ruin, Which threaten absolute undoing; That grasp at family estates Of honour'd name and ancient dates, And hasten on the heirs in fee To gallop fast to beggary. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS & THE MONEY-LENDERS.] QUÆ GENUS, was brimful of zeal To seize each turn of Fortune's wheel, And eager to fulfil his plan Of rising to a gentleman: But though gold roll'd beneath his eye, Though fees were paid and bribes were high, His heart, which had not lost its feeling, Shrunk from the base, remorseless dealing, That gloating avarice employ'd O'er the rich ruins it enjoy'd. While, therefore, some kind, gen'rous sense His heart felt of benevolence, And ere of honour quite bereft, He the rapacious LEVI left, In hope he might obtain a place He should not think as a disgrace; Nor of success had he to fear From VALCOUR'S written character; Where all his virtues were pourtray'd, In such a view that he was made In every domestic sense A paragon of excellence. But sad to tell, it was not long Before temptations, more than strong, Were urg'd by a kind, zealous friend, Who us'd on bus'ness to attend Old LEVI'S Levees: He display'd In artful whisper, the sure trade, Which, manag'd as he could define, Would shortly prove a golden mine. "Think not," he said, "that I am canting; Money, my friend, is all that's wanting. A certain sum could I command, I soon would purchase house and land. Ere a short time had onward run, I would strut forth a BUCK OF TON; The world, with its dull pride, defy, And jostle fools of quality." QUÆ GENUS felt his brooding plan To be a finish'd GENTLEMAN, At that same word his spirit started, And instantly he grew great hearted. "Your scheme," he said, "at once explain: If gainful, you shall share the gain." "But hear me out," it was replied, "And then you will be satisfied. Know, you must an assistant be At a club's gaming revelry. O check, I pray, your staring eyes, From looking on me with surprise; Let not the scheme I offer freeze you, Hear, and then do as it may please you! Think not I would your hand entice To deal the card or shake the dice; You must employ a knowing friend, And such a one I can commend; He's wary, and suspicion guards, By shrewdly managing his cards; Whate'er he does is done with ease, And heaps his gains by slow degrees, Till he has such a sum attain'd By which his object may be gain'd, Then one successful effort make, And seize a fortune in the stake. He watches those who love to drink, And sticks to such as cannot think: He turns his skilful inclination To young men who are prone to passion; He has cool words for those who're heated, Whose pride will not believe they're cheated; In short, he can a card entice, And fix good-fortune on the dice. With him you may your money trust; He will be generous as he's just: Proceed at once on manly ground And trust him with five hundred pound; With that, my friend, let him alone, He'll use it as it were his own." QUÆ GENUS enter'd on his place And acted with becoming grace; But with his keen, suspicious eye He saw what look'd like treachery, Which wak'd the fancy to be thrifty, So, of his pounds he gave but fifty. --On his official duties bound, He pac'd the hubbub-table round, And with attentive leering kenn'd His trusty, confidential friend, Whose frequent nods and silent grinning Full plainly told, he had been winning; But, when QUÆ GENUS ask'd th' amount, His friend thus settled the account. "It does my very heart-strings grieve That you have nothing to receive: Two hours ago my luck was crost, And then your fifty pounds were lost; For when with your advance I play'd Fortune became an arrant jade: Though since 'tis true that I have won, But then the risk was all my own; And, if you had but ventur'd more, Your purse might now be running o'er. With a round sum to-morrow night, Fortune may set all matters right: As 'tis in war, so 'tis with gold, She fails not to protect the bold." Our Hero was not such a _Flat_ As to sit down content with that: He first determin'd to resist Or with a cudgel or a fist: But on reflection, felt an awe Of the grim, prosecuting law: Besides, had he enrag'd the room, It might have prov'd his final doom: Still he for vengeance inly cried And he was shortly satisfied. --The _Bow-street_ folk he happ'd to know Were walking that way to and fro, And when more closely on the watch, He mov'd the door's unwilling latch, The myrmidons rush'd rudely in, And all above was noise and din. Candles and lamps were all put out, When it became a mingled rout, While for the money on the table Each grasp'd as much as he was able; And our QUÆ GENUS had engross'd More than by _Humbug_ he had lost; Then nimbly made a safe retreat To lodgings in no distant street. Here, for some time he pac'd the room, To dissipate th' oppressive gloom That did upon his spirits light From the proceedings of the night. "Indeed," he said, "what then was done I do not wish to look upon, Nay I would from my mem'ry cast My curious ways for some time past, But certain, busy reasons tell Such effort is impossible. All therefore, that I now can do Is the forthcoming time to woo With those endearments which may prove QUÆ GENUS worthy of its love: With that just sense of what is right, That makes the moral lamp burn bright." [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS OFFICIATING AT A GAMING HOUSE.] Such pensive musings on him wrought Till he his welcome pillow sought, When, as absorb'd in sleep he lay, Fancy did on his spirits play, And in a strange and fearful dream A form did on his vision beam, With ghastly look as it were come From the pale confines of the tomb. He seem'd with one uplifted hand Instant attention to command, The other, as he solemn stood, Folded around the flowing shroud; And thus QUÆ GENUS seem'd to hear The hollow voice that pierc'd his ear. "I am thy foster-parent's shade, } Who, in the earth, has long been laid, } And let his counsels be obey'd. } 'Tis SYNTAX who before thee stands, And wait with awe his grave commands. Fool as thou art, in thy misdoing Art thou not hast'ning to thy ruin? Am I call'd hither to accuse Thy erring ways, and idle views? Do I the wretched agent see Of gambling fraud and usury? And is it thus you form the plan To vault into a Gentleman? SYNTAX thy memory must own As the sole parent thou hast known, Whose mercy did the Foundling save From menace of an infant's grave. Better, perhaps, his fond regard Had not thy sad condition spar'd, If what of future life may last, Wakes no contrition for the past. Hear me, and tremble as I speak, Though you may human laws escape; The life you lead is not forgiven By the offended laws of Heaven. If such your doings, I can ne'er Petition for your pardon there. The present means which you possess, If rightly us'd, will give success; Nay, if you cease to roam abroad, And turn from folly's wand'ring road; If you keep all things right at home, Much unexpected good may come. QUÆ GENUS, to my words attend, The errors of your life amend; Resist the world's seducing power, Or fear me at the midnight hour." --Thus as he thought the vision spake, The curtains round him seem'd to shake; And frowning, as in angry mood, At the bed's foot the figure stood, When, in a misty gleam of light, It seem'd to vanish from his sight. He woke in such an agitation His night-cap stream'd with perspiration; He started with a fearful stare, Not knowing if to pray or swear. He did from further sleep refrain As he perhaps should dream again, And Sommerden's departed Rector Might read another curtain-lecture. But when as through the shutter's crack He saw the beams of Phoebus break, Up he arose, the bell he rung, And, "Breakfast," issued from his tongue: The loud command was soon obey'd, And morning meal in order laid. On sofa stretch'd, he munch'd the toast, And sipp'd the Bohea, doubly dos'd With cordial drops, we won't say gin, Which he pour'd plentifully in, And did his trem'rous nerves redeem } By power of the reviving stream, } From the dire horrors of the dream. } --His spirits thus with strength recruited, He turn'd his mind to what was suited To the condition chance had bound him, And perils which might still surround him: Of his late playmates what became When power broke up the midnight game; And if pursued by any danger, To which as yet he was a stranger. But soon he found, enquiry made, The Bow-street spirits all were laid; Nor was it to the party known, By whom the mischief had been done.-- Thus, from all legal threat secure, He felt determin'd to abjure The course of life he had pursued, Nor suffer knav'ry to delude His conduct into any plan That might disgrace a Gentleman; The character which his fond thought Had to a flatt'ring crisis brought, When he might try, and not in vain, The wish'd for honour to maintain. Besides, in favour of his scheme, He felt the warnings of the dream, As he their meaning understood Foreboded much of future good. At length his boasting fancies tired Of all to which his pride aspired; And, having nothing else to do, He sauntered forth to take a view Of what a saunter might present For serious thought or merriment; When, as he careless stroll'd along, Half-humming some new-fangled song, He heard a voice that did proclaim His own but too familiar name. 'Twas Mr. CARMINE, who was known An artist of the first renown For portraiture of living faces, Whose pencil gave and heighten'd graces, Who, 'mid the hurry of the street, Did sauntering QUÆ GENUS greet: When, having sought a place of quiet, Free from the passing, bustling riot, In civil tones the man of art Began his Queries to impart. "Your family, I hope, are well, And will you Lady VALCOUR tell, If it so please her you may come And fetch her fine resemblance home: Nay she may have forgot, I fear, That the last sitting's in arrear: Give but the hint as I demand And you shall feel my grateful hand." --QUÆ GENUS hasten'd to reply With the gay VALCOURS' history, And fear'd that, for a year or two, The picture must _in statu quo_ Within his gallery remain, At least, till they came home again. "Well then," said CARMINE, "tell me friend, What fortunes on your steps attend." "Sir," he replied, "'tis Fortune's pleasure I should enjoy a state of leisure. Sir CHARLES, so generous and kind, Wish'd not that I should stay behind, Nay, would have paid me high to go, As I've a paper that will shew: But certain schemes play'd on my brain Which fix'd my purpose to remain, And yet, with all my honest care, I have not brought one scheme to bear." "My friend," the artist said, "if you Have not a better scheme in view, My place, unless I greatly err, Would suit your turn and character 'Tis but to know and to make known The beauties by my pencil shewn, And lard, as you the occasion see, With strokes of modest flattery. Take care you manage well your tongue To please the old as well as young, And study the expressive grace That's seen to beam on any face; When, in fair words and cautious mood You may mark the similitude Between the charms that smiling live, And such as art like mine can give. Nor to the sex your hints confine, The ermin'd sage and grave divine, The chubby face of childhood too Attention must be made to woo, While I shall to your mind impart The nomenclature of my art;-- And if, as I presume you will, Display the show with ready skill, From Misses, Beaux, Old Dames and Sages, You'll gain, Good Fellow, three-fold wages. --Now turn the offer in your mind, And, if your prudence is inclin'd To take it, you will let me know To-morrow how your wishes flow." [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS WITH A PORTRAIT PAINTER.] What though it was his warm desire From days of service to retire; Though he now hop'd the time drew nigh To change his humble destiny, He ask'd permission of his pride That one more service might be tried, As in the class he hop'd to move It might a source of knowledge prove. --Where could he such examples see As in an artist's gallery? For while he look'd at forms and faces He might learn all the tonish graces, Whatever manners could bestow, } What attitudes were best to show; } In short, all that he sought to know. } For the fine folk who visit there Come deck'd with all becoming care, That the chaste pencil may not err From truth of form and character, Which not alone, while yet they live, The canvas may be proud to give, But offer to the admiring eye Of an unborn posterity! "O," he exclaim'd, "this is the plan, } I all its various merits scan, } 'Tis HALF-WAY to a _Gentleman_!" } --Nay, to be brief, the following day Beheld him all in due array, And soon alert, submissive, smart, } Well vers'd in all the slang of art; } He to perfection play'd his part. } In mildest tone would just express The charms a canvas may possess, Where Loves and Graces seem to smile And do th' enchanted eye beguile. Though still he ne'er forgot his duty To one who might have been a beauty, There he did not throw out his hints Of charming smiles and rosy tints, But to her portrait would refer For force and grace of character. Still his own thoughts ne'er went astray, } He rather told what others say, } What my Lord B. prais'd yesterday. } Thus he contriv'd, it seems, to please CARMINE's fine folk, of all degrees, And what he gain'd, he now might say, He got it in an honest way. From all he did the Artist thought He had a real treasure got; Nor had QUÆ GENUS any cause To grumble at domestic laws; For all who serv'd them were content With the well-rang'd establishment. Above, was all that taste could show, And ease and comfort reign'd below; For CARMINE sought not cost to spare, And splendid plenty revell'd there. --O Discretion, what thy powers, To watch o'er life's fantastic hours, To check warm nature's glowing heat When passions in the bosom beat, And whim and fancy's busy train Play their vagaries through the brain! But that comptroller of the will, That sober judge 'tween good and ill, Or from his folly or his pride QUÆ GENUS seem'd to throw aside. This was the spot where he might stay, } Where duty was improving play, } Till hope should paint the wish'd-for way. } But whimsies did his wits employ The play-game of an idle boy, For which if, at his earliest school, Thus he had dared to play the fool, He would have felt the smarting fate That does on thoughtless culprit wait. --The easy, morning duties done, The after-day was all his own, When, as it surely may be thought He might have some improvement sought: But no, his genius seem'd to chuse His luckless leisure to amuse, In changing, when brimfull of glee, The system of the Gallery; Would make the pictures change their places, And with his chalk deform their faces, (For, from a boy, whate'er he saw, With a rude outline, he could draw,) Turn down the portraits in their frames, And look and laugh and call them names. Though if no other harm were done, Unknown he might have had his fun: But hence the mischief did ensue, The names he call'd were written too: In short, he turn'd the painter's school Completely into ridicule, And, by a TITLE or a SCROLL, He strove to stigmatize the whole. --He would a _Lawn-rob'd Prelate_ place As if he ogled _Cælia's_ face, Exclaiming "There's no greater bliss, No, not in Heaven, than _Cælia's Kiss_;" While _Cælia_ might be made to say "_Hands off, my pious Lord, I pray! Remember what you ought to feel-- The good book says you must not steal; And steal you will, if you receive it, For hang me, FUSTY, if I give it_." --He then, perhaps, would run his rig, With _Cap and Bells_ on _Judge's Wig_; When thus his fancy might indite, And in a well turn'd label write,-- "_Now should MY LORD be in a fury, And shake that WIG_, he'd fright the JURY_." --The portrait of an AGED DAME Might have this added to her name,-- "_Your Crutch-stick tells you scarce can walk, But still you bore all ears with talk; A most incorrigible Hag, Who nothing but your TONGUE can wag_." --A MARRIED PAIR together plac'd, And with their household emblems grac'd, Though looking in each other's faces, He would remove to sep'rate places, And then contrive to make them say, "_How shall we, Sir, this act repay? Our Home Cabals we now shall smother, At this nice distance from each other; Thus far removed we shall agree,-- 'Tis just as we both wish to be._" --A LORD MAYOR's brow he would adorn With honours of a double Horn; Then from a long scroll make him cry, "_Make room for Cuckolds, here comes I_." --A LAWYER, clad in wig and band, With briefs and papers in his hand, QUÆ GENUS would contrive to trace A JANUS with a _Double Face_, And each face with a ready tongue To plead the cause or right or wrong, Exclaiming in both scrolls--"_'Tis We, And waiting for a Double Fee_." Such was his wit, which sometimes told Its thoughts in flashes far too bold: Which the Muse knows would not be meet For her Chaste Spirit to repeat. --Thus when the Monkey's hand had done With this display of idle fun, And in his vacant hour of sense Had triumph'd in Impertinence; He would repair his saucy tricks, The pictures in their places fix, Wipe out the mischief of the chalk And bid the portraits cease to talk; Then with a military air, Aloud command them--"AS YOU WERE."-- --Now it, at least, was once a week, He did this gay amusement seek, When CARMINE'S absence gave the power Thus to pass off his leisure hour, As different faces might present Fresh subjects for his merriment. But those foul imps who oft molest, With awkward thoughts, the human breast, (As the expression's not so civil, We will not hint it is the devil,) Will, as their trade is to deceive, Fast in the lurch their vot'ries leave; And soon QUÆ GENUS was betray'd Into the trap his folly laid. One vernal eve, he had o'erflow'd With chalk and chatter ill-bestow'd, When call'd off for we know not what, The unfinish'd mischief was forgot; And in the morning, ere the clout Had duly wip'd his folly out, A party, who from town were going, Came, just to pay what might be owing: At the same time to represent Where all their portraits might be sent. --One _Elder Lady_ rubb'd her eyes, With equal anger and surprize, While she could scarce believe she read, The _Witch_ of _Endor_ o'er her head. --Another, not of younger age, Could not restrain her glowing rage, When _Mother RED CAP_ was the name Which chalk had given to the Dame; And then she scream'd aloud,--"_Forsooth, A Pipe is put into my mouth, Whose nauseous fumes around me fly To stamp me with vulgarity_!" --With them there was a sweet young lady, In beauty's bloom and vernal gay day; Her portrait in all stature stood, With all the grace of attitude, And charms to turn, though not of stone, A _Carmine_ to _Pygmalion_. But she, in all her beauty's pride, A _Wheel-barrow_ was made to guide, While ruby lips were seen to cry, "_Sheep's hearts for those who want to buy_!" The marble urn which stood behind her, Was turn'd into a rude _Knife-Grinder_, And at no very far approach Was seen a passing _Hackney Coach_, While all the lawns and groves so sweet Were scrawl'd into a _London Street_. --Anger in diff'rent tones were heard, And when CARMINE in haste appear'd, Aghast he stood, then vengeance vow'd, Declar'd his innocence--and bow'd; But in a few short minutes prov'd The wicked lines might be remov'd. If water is not just at hand, _Saliva's_ always at command, Which gives the tints a brighter glow, And leaves a kind of varnish too. This, with his handkerchief applied, Soon wip'd the saucy chalk aside. The Dame exclaim'd,--"_Pray look, d'ye see, Still more affronts, my Lady B----: This is the height of all disgrace, The Painter's spitting in my face_." CARMINE, without a word, went on, And when his cleansing skill was shown, When witticisms disappear'd, And each offending line was clear'd, The sudden change appear'd to please, And angry words began to cease. But still he thought he ought to show The threat'ning terms he could bestow. The maids, each answ'ring to her name, Aloud their innocence proclaim: The housekeeper and sturdy cook Propose to swear on HOLY BOOK, They could not do it:--Heaven forbid it! And then they told,--QUÆ GENUS _did it_: On which, the solemn Dames insist Such Impudence should be dismiss'd. But though they saw the alter'd show } Restor'd to all its pristine glow, } They let th' astonish'd artist know } Th' insulted portraits should not stay Where they then were another day. Thus porters, order'd to the door, } Away each fine resemblance bore, } That they might be defac'd no more.-- } --The Dames departed in a huff, With _fanning_ cool'd,--consol'd with _snuff_: While Miss, beneath her bonnet's poke, Smil'd as if _she_ enjoy'd the joke. Our Hero now was seen to wait The threat'nings of impending fate: That fate, but in the mildest tone, CARMINE delay'd not to make known. "As you vie with me in my art, 'Tis clear, my friend, that we must part: Your genius is so full of sport That you must go,--I'm sorry for't! Such tricks will bring, as you must see, Disgrace upon the Gallery; Indeed, by your confounded fun, Mischief may be already done! You talk'd of schemes when you came here, But, faith, this scheme may cost me dear. As tricks like these you chuse to play, 'Twere well that you should march away; So go, where, spite of common sense, Your jokes may pass without offence. Few words are best,--my mind to tell: Pack up your Chalk,--and so farewell!" --QUÆ GENUS the command obey'd, As pleas'd to go as if he stay'd. Here then his _final Service_ ends:-- But MAN and MASTER parted friends. CANTO VIII Life, as a witty Bard has shewn, Who dealt in just comparison,[1] Is but a busy pantomime, Whose actions vary with the time; Where they who turn from side to side, According to the wind and tide, Are more ingenious in their art Than such as act but one grave part; Who, as their years pass onward, seem To glide along one gentle stream. But here we stop not to contend Whether, to answer Life's great end, 'Tis best from place to place to range, Or fix to one, and never change. Suffice it, that, from choice or chance, QUÆ GENUS hurried through some dance Of early life, and, as we see, Not knowing what the next would be: But now, disdaining future tricks, He felt a firm resolve to fix Upon a steady, better plan, Of living like a _Gentleman_. Whether he knew to calculate The means required for such a state, The curious eye will shortly see, In his approaching History. [1] BUTLER, the Author of HUDIBRAS. It has been well observ'd by some, "All countries are a wise man's home." As it is said of diff'rent nations, The same is true of various stations Which man is destin'd to fulfil, Or with, or e'en against his will; If Reason happens to provide A steersman who is fit to guide The vessel o'er life's flowing main, And sure at last the port to gain. How much our Hero had amass'd, By ways and means now gone and pass'd, We know not, as we never heard The hoarded sums he had prepar'd; But as he had a sense of craving, And with it, too, a knack of saving, He must have got a heap of Cash, Which, for a time, would make a dash. The _Valcour_ wardrobe almost new, } The gifts of service, laid _perdu_, } Would serve him for a year or two; } And by some _Snip's_ contriving art, Would fit him well and make him smart: But stumbling-blocks were found to lay Before him, and impede his way. Manners and matter he possest, His early life had given the best; And while he as a servant mov'd, His knowledge of the world improv'd: But still his face and form were known In certain quarters of the town, And the first object to his fame Was to discard his present name; For he ne'er did a Father know, The source from whence a name should flow; And by QUÆ GENUS nought was meant-- It was a boon by accident, Which he might, if he pleas'd, disuse, And any other title chuse. Through the _Directory_ he waded, Till his poor eyes were sadly jaded; Then in the finer streets he stroll'd Where Names on _Door Plates_ are enroll'd: But then he fear'd a name to own, Which would, perhaps, be too well known, And cause enquiries, that might be The source of some perplexity. Reason, at length, rous'd the intention Of yielding to his own invention, To eke out from the alphabet, A name he never heard of yet; And which his fancy might suggest As one to suit his project best. FREE-BORN he thought would do as well As any other he could tell, When, his right Christian name of JOHN Form'd the becoming union; Then nothing more he could desire Than trim these names with an ESQUIRE; And to let the report be spread, That some rich relative was dead, And 'twas his Fortune and his Fate To get the name and an estate. Should it be ask'd where _that_ might lay, He had prepar'd himself to say, (As if half earnest--half in joke, The smiling answer might be spoke,) "'Tis here, 'tis there, 'tis everywhere, Or in some country in the air; But should you come to _number three_ In such a street, you there will see How that estate appears to thrive: On _Thursday_ next I dine at _five_." Thus he would find none to suspect him, Or, dinners given, to neglect him. He now to Coffee Houses went, With looks assuming calm content, And such as those are seen to wear, Who easy independence share. At reading-rooms he frequent sat, And read or join'd in social chat; Acquaintance made, no arduous task, Of those he did to dinner ask. In gay apartments then he shone In a good quarter of the town, But distant, as we may conceive, From where his masters us'd to live. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS GIVES A GRAND PARTY.] _Miss Emily_, the blooming niece } Of the old Broker, Master _Squeeze_, } Who made some figure in the piece, } And, at no very distant page, Was seen to figure on the stage; The Lady all her points had carried, Was rich, and had the _Pleader_ married; Had chang'd her uncle's name of _Squeeze'em_ To her shrewd husband's, Lawyer _Seize'em_: Who, by his cunning and his skill, Had brought all contests to her will, When he had got his promis'd fee Of Beauty, Wealth and Luxury. To her, with smiles of gay content, The _'Squire_ his eager footsteps bent, And did in lofty tone proclaim His change of fortune as of name; And told her it would be his pride, At a small Fête would she preside, Which he propos'd in style to give, Where he would all her friends receive; For this was now the only way He had to make his party gay: And the first flourish of his plan To figure as a _Gentleman_. --She smil'd and said she'd bring him plenty, Then ask'd at once his cards for twenty. --The fête was given,--the dance, the song, And feasting did the night prolong, Which pleasure gave to full two score, Whom he had never seen before;-- But, his great object to maintain, These he must strive to see again; At all their doors his cards present, And thus, by various compliment, To form a circle of such friends As would secure his serious ends, In social ease to pass the day, And often find an evening gay. --But _'Squire Free-born_ quickly found He did not tread on solid ground, And 'gan to fear he should not see The way to that society, Which forms of life the happiest measure: By mutual interchange of pleasure. --'Twas but slight chat if he should meet His new acquaintance in the street; He seldom found, or more or less, But gen'ral forms of _politesse_, And that, too often, at the best, Was but in flimsy style exprest. --Ladies would ask him to the play, To take his arm and let him pay; And when to cards, he always lost More than the wine and biscuits cost. He found, as yet, but little done-- 'Twas neither common sense nor fun, Where kind regard would ne'er encrease, And int'rest wak'd the wish to please; Where words were either cold or hearty, As he propos'd to give a party; And a good supper was the charm That did to transient friendship warm, For that, alas, no longer lasted, Than while they thought on what they tasted. _'Squire Free-born_ soon began to feel A relaxation in his zeal To push away that class among Who did his evening parties throng, From whom no fair return was made, And mod'rate fashion was display'd. Manners were ap'd, but in a way That did vulgarity betray; And the best show that he might see, Was dash of awkward finery:-- Besides, a rude and rough event Gave spirit to his discontent. --He call'd, one day, where, on admission, The parties were in sad condition; It was a scene of mutual flame, 'Tween _Start-up_ and his lovely dame. He was a clerk on public duty, And she a most conceited beauty: When, as he enter'd, her sharp tongue Began in tones both harsh and strong,-- "_Pray, FREE-BORN, do you think it breeding, That he should thus be always reading?_ _When he does from his office come 'Tis thus he sits hum-drum at home, As if he thought so low my wit I'm not for conversation fit; Nor does he seem to rate me higher Than to trace figures in the fire!" --"Call you, hum-drum, that information So suited to official station_," He sternly said, "_which now engages Attention to these curious pages_!" --"_My mind_," she cried, "_was in the dark When I was married to a Clerk:-- O had I join'd a fool instead Of one to office breeding bred! He, who in honour should protect me, You see, Sir, how he dares neglect me!_" --In terms polite to praise and blame, _Free-born_ now hop'd to quench the flame, And therefore offer'd, nothing loth, To give a little spice of both. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS, INTERRUPTS A TÊTE A TÊTE.] "Madam, by persons of discerning, My friend is known for store of learning; While you are bless'd with those rare charms, A Prince might wish to fill his arms." He gently smil'd and so did she, At this same two-fold flattery, Which, in a moment, seem'd to smother The flames of anger 'gainst each other: He therefore ventur'd to proceed, But did not now so well succeed. "You ask me to unfold my thought, Which is with truth and friendship fraught. We all well know, in life's great stake, There's such a Rule as _give and take_; A maxim, with your good in view, I recommend to both of you. On this, for peace, fix your reliance, And learn to practise kind compliance. If he is haughty, soothe his pride, Nor with disdainful glances chide. When you are angry, he must chase } All frownings from that lovely face, } With tender words and soft embrace. } Both of you now are in the wrong, _He_ with his BOOK,--_you_ with your TONGUE." But, ere he could his speech conclude, With scornful look and accents rude, Again the furious Dame began:-- "_What Impudence is in the Man! Thus, 'gainst his betters, to let loose His vulgar tongue in such abuse. My husband to be thus belied, Who is my love, my boast, my pride!_" When _Start-up_ foam'd,--"_You risk your life, In treating thus my darling wife; Who, I proclaim, as 'tis my duty, Has charms superior to her beauty!_" Then each gave each a warm embrace, And both star'd in poor _Free-born's_ face, The one as if _he_ wish'd to beat him, The other as if _she_ could have eat him. He then, as suiting her desire, Threw the base volume in the fire, When she----"_Thus ends a petty fuss Which may cross those who love like us; Though I might wish it had not been By such a saucy booby seen_." --_Free-born_, but not from sense of fear, Now thought it best to disappear; And as they rang the clam'rous bell, He heard them both the servant tell-- "Discharg'd you shall be, if the door Is open'd to that varlet more." --Such vulgar threat the _'Squire_ amus'd, For he no more would be refus'd By those whose silly actions prove That they could scold, and lie, and love: But still he rather felt the wrongs Which had proceeded from the tongues Of those who had no fair pretence At what he said to take offence: A pretty way to make amends For having treated them as friends; In short, he thought it best to fly His late acquir'd society: Pert Lawyers and such busy men As in some office wield the pen; Who, when their daily labour's done, Put their best coats and faces on; Leave home, where tallow dimly lights 'em, For wax, when some dull fool invites 'em, The plenteous evening to prolong In lively glee or tender song, Or in some funny tale to shine, And give a current to the wine. There, too, their wives and sisters flow, } Gay, scanty finery to show, } In gawdy trim and furbelow; } Who can, perhaps, the music play, And scream the carol of the day; Nay, work a waltz, while staring eyes Proclaim their gentle ecstasies. At length the shawls and wrappers come, When in their hacks they trundle home. --Though, after all, whate'er his aim, Whate'er his fancy chose to claim, 'Twas not amiss;--this _first degree_ In what is call'd society, Where step by step he must advance To higher place in fashion's dance: But with the folk, he 'gan to find, Who din'd with him, he never din'd, And got no more than casual tea For what his guests thought luxury; And, in a snug, familiar way, For all they gave, they made him pay. Besides, he sometimes felt offence, At what he thought impertinence: Such as they were, both great and small, He cut acquaintance with them all. His purse had thus indulg'd his whim, But they ne'er heard again from him. He now suspected that his plan, Of turning to a _Gentleman_, Was not so easy to be brought To such success as he had thought. But still he ventur'd to turn over New plans by which he might discover Some means to realize his scheme, } But it, at times, began to seem } Somewhat, indeed, too like a dream. } To thinking minds it is not strange That man is seen so soon to change, And, when he gets on random chace, To move so quick from place to place. If no fix'd principles he trust Which Reason says are true and just, The busy world will not restrain him, Nor in one beaten path maintain him. Now here, now there, he is as oft Seen to sink low as rise aloft. As he moves on, how he will vary From sober thought to gay vagary; Nay, seem the tempers to unite Of Dons 'bout whom historians write; The one whose name our laughter cheers, And he who pass'd his time in tears. What wonder then that we should see In _Free-born_, that variety, Which, in his disappointed mind, Nature may bid us look and find: Though he must guess profoundly well, Who could th' approaching change foretell. He long since felt it as a folly To think again on _pretty Molly_, But when his project seem'd to fail, Her image did again prevail; And humbler views began to find A passage to his wav'ring mind. Instead of striving to pursue What he now fear'd would never do, He fancied that a tender wife Might give a charm to rural life. _Molly_ he fear'd not he could move To bless a home with married Love, And that a cottage might be found, With garden green and meadow ground; Where he might form his fragrant bowers, And deck the pretty lawn with flowers; Beneath a beech-tree read his book, } And sometimes angle in the brook: } Nay, even wield a shepherd's crook. } Money he had, and so had she, And, with a due economy, Far from the noisy world remov'd, And by each other fondly lov'd, They might pass on in plenteous ease, And lead a life of smiling peace. He slept, and, in a dream, he swore, } He saw his _Parent-Friend_, once more-- } Not looking as he did before, } But all so smirking, blithe and gay; When, sitting on a cock of hay, The prong and rake he seem'd to wield, As he were master of the field: He spoke not, but he seem'd to speak,-- "_This is the life, boy, you must seek_." --Such was another strong emotion To aid the new, romantic notion, And think of nought but Cottage Life, With pretty MOLLY for his Wife. He turn'd this over in his mind, And ev'ry hour felt more inclin'd To take the Maiden by surprize, And this fond dream to realize. Sweet MOLLY now was gone from town As waiting-maid to _Lady Brown_, Who lives a portion of the year At her fine place in Devonshire; Nor did _fond Corydon_ delay To write his mind another day: While, to amuse th' impatient hours, He fill'd his room with shrubs and flowers: Branching _Geraniums_ were seen To make his ev'ry window green, And something like a picture wear Of future scenery he might share. Our time does like our watches go Sometimes too fast,--sometimes too slow; But to the _'Squire_, for he was still A _'Squire_, though now against his will, Old _Bald-Pate_ mov'd with tardy tread, As if his feet were hung with lead; But he went on:--An answer came, Sign'd MOLLY, with no other name! He thought it odd, but did not wait To make it matter of debate, So quick his hurry to be shown The passion which the page would own. He read,--"_I've heard, bless Heav'n, my friend! } (With thanks for what you might intend,) } Your serving days are at an end: } Thus I believ'd, and find it true, I could no longer think of you. It seems to be your prosp'rous fate To come into a great estate; And so I thought it Heaven's decree, You ought no more to think of me. Besides, as you have never wrote, I fancied Molly was forgot; When soon a tender lover came, A learned man, of preaching fame; He press'd me,--I was not obdurate, And so, I'm married to a CURATE! The match my Lady much approv'd, And my good Husband's so belov'd, Our kind SIR JOHN has given his word That he shall shortly be preferr'd._ * * * * * Poor _Corydon_ could read no more, } But, in a rage the letter tore, } And kick'd the fragments round the floor: } Toss'd some things up, and some things down, Curs'd both the _Country_ and the _Town_; With pots and pans did battle rage-- Drove the geraniums from the stage, And wish'd no object now to see _Of ruralized felicity_. The country letter turn'd the tide To rush upon his wounded pride: At once he thought it more than folly Thus to have offer'd love to _Molly_. Nay, he began to smile at length; And, to regain becoming strength, He took to the well-known resort Of season'd dish and good _Old Port_: When as he sat, with uplift eyes, } And, thro' the window, view'd the skies, } He ventur'd to soliloquize. } "My _genteel folk_ I have declin'd, At least, the sort which I could find; And just as much dispos'd to sneeze At all my _Rural Deities_: But still I've got a heap of _Cash_, And, while it lasts, will make a _Dash_! But here one firm resolve I make,-- _I never will my Elbow shake_; And if I take care not to _play_, } I shall get something for my pay: } It will not _all_ be thrown away! } Who knows what CUPID, too, may do? For I may _win_ if I should _woo_; And e'en, in spite of this same _Hump_, _Fortune_ may turn me up a trump. --My standard now shall be unfurl'd, And I will rush into the world: Nay, when I have the world enjoy'd, With emptied purse and spirits cloy'd, I then can trip it o'er the main: VALCOUR will take me back again; Once more his humble friend receive, With all the welcome he can give: We know not what from ill may screen us, And I, once more, shall be QUÆ GENUS." --He spoke, and seem'd to close his plan Of keeping up the _Gentleman_. The Sun had sunk beneath the west, To go to bed and take his rest, As Poets feign, in THETIS lap, Where he ne'er fails to have a nap; When, with his second bottle rallied, Our Hero rose, and out he sallied In search of any lively fun, That he, perchance, might hit upon. --As through a court he chanc'd to pass, He saw a gay, well-figur'd lass, Who, in her floating fripp'ry shone, With all the trim of fashion on. She had descended from a coach, And did a certain door approach, With tripping step and eager haste, When soon th' illumin'd arch she pass'd: And still he saw, in height of feather, Small parties enter there together, While jovial gentlemen appear'd, Who, as they came, each other cheer'd. --He asked, where these fine Ladies went? The watchman said,--"For merriment; And should a little dancing fit you, A crown, your honour, will admit you." --The 'Squire then rapp'd, the door was op'd, He gave his coin, and in he popp'd: The music sounded in the hall, And smiling faces grac'd the ball, Where, as he lov'd a merry trip With some _gay Miss_ he chose to skip, But as they _Waltz'd_ it round in pairs A noise was heard upon the stairs, And strait a magistrate appear'd With solemn aspect; while, uprear'd, Official staves in order stand, To wait the laws' so rude command. --Sad hurry and confusion wait On this their unexpected state; When there broke forth, as it might seem, From snow-white throats, a fearful scream; Nor, to add horror, was there wanting Some strong appearances of fainting: But Justice, with its iron brow Unfeeling scowl'd on all the show. In shriller tones the ladies cried, In diff'rent key the beaux replied, Though some consoling bev'rage quaff, Give a smart twirl, nor fear to laugh: While coarser voices,--"hold your tongue, Pack up your alls and come along." Then, of fair culprits full a score, And of their dancing partners more, Beneath stern power's relentless rod, Were rang'd, and order'd off to QUOD. They march'd away in long procession To take the fruits of their transgression:-- Staffmen did at their head appear, And watchmen lighted up the rear. Our Hero felt the ridicule Of having idly play'd the fool, And, as he handed on his _Belle_, He could not but compare the smell That rotten root and trodden leaf Do to th' offended senses give Of those who, by the lamp's pale light, Through Covent-Garden stroll at night, With all the garlands which he weav'd Ere Molly's letter was receiv'd: And all the fragrance of the flowers He thought to cull in Molly's bowers; Nay, which, but the preceding morning, His promis'd hopes had been adorning. It was indeed a noisome change, O it was strange, 'twas passing strange! But still the watch-house made amends, Such as they were, they gave him friends. Which here, I'm not suppos'd to think Were such as save from ruin's brink; But lively sprites who have a taste To hurry on the stream to waste. Thus, when the welcome morn was come, And Justice sent the party home; He and two blades of certain feather Propos'd to pass the day together: The one, more grave, declar'd his breed, Famous on t'other side the _Tweed_, The other lively, brisk and airy, Boasted his birth in _Tipperary_; Though whether this were truly so, 'Tis from their words alone we know: But they were easy, free and jolly, Decided foes to melancholy, And seem'd well-form'd to aid a day In passing pleasantly away. --But first the TRIO thought it best To snatch some hours' refreshing rest, When, as it was in Summer's pride, } They pass'd their jovial hours beside } The crystal _Thames_ imperial tide; } And as the river roll'd along, Made the banks echo with their song. --At length it was a rival jest Who of the three could sing the best. --The sturdy Scot the song began, And thus th' harmonious contest ran. WALLACE, who fought and bled, he sung, Whose name dwells on a nation's tongue. The 'SQUIRE, in boist'rous tone declar'd, And neither lungs nor quavering spar'd, That Britain triumph'd o'er the waves And Britons never would be slaves. Then ERIN'S SON, with sweeter voice, Exclaim'd, "I'll make you both rejoice; O with a famous song I'll treat you, And then you both shall say I've beat you Your verses are old-fashion'd prosing, My song is of my own composing; And though 'tis to lov'd ERIN'S fame, To all three Kingdoms 'tis the same." The hearers both politely bow'd, } When he, of his fam'd subject proud, } Pour'd forth his accents deep and loud. } [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS committed, with a riotous dancing Party, to the Watch-House.] SONG. It has long been agreed by all persons of learning Who in stories of old have a ready discerning, That in every country which travellers paint, There has always been found a protector or saint. Derry down, etc. St. George for Old England, with target and lance, St. Andrew for Scotland, St. Denis for France, St. David o'er Wales, so long known to preside, And St. Patrick, Hibernia's patron and pride. Derry down, etc. He was gallant and brave as a saint ought to be, For St. George was not braver or better than he, He would drink and would sing and would rattle like thunder, Though 'twas said, he was, now and then given to blunder. Derry down, etc. But the jests of his friends he took in good part, For his blunders were nought but th' excess of his heart; Though there was but one blunder he ever would own, And that was when he saw all the claret was gone. Derry down, etc. He'd fight for his country's religion and laws, And when beauty was injur'd he took up the cause, For the gallant St. Patrick, as ev'ry one knows, Was fond of a pretty girl under the rose. Derry down, etc So many his virtues, it would be too long To rehearse them at once in a ballad or song; Then with laughter and mirth let us hallow his shrine, And drown all his Bulls in a bumper of wine. Derry down, etc. Then St. _Patrick_, St. _George_ and St. _Andrew_ shall be The Protectors of Kingdoms so brave and so free: Thus in vain will the thunders of _Denis_ be hurl'd, For our _Trio of Saints_ shall give laws to the world. Derry down, etc. Hard went the hands upon the board, And ERIN'S praises were _encor'd_. Thus when the pleasant song was heard, HIBERNIA'S minstrel was preferr'd; Nor from the voice or in the eye Was there a hint of jealousy: Nay, while they took their parting glass, These sentiments were heard to pass. "The Thistle, Shamrock and the Rose May challenge all the world at blows: _English_ and _Irish_ names are known,-- There's _Marlborough_ and _Wellington_; And O, what men of glorious name Do _Scotia's_ annals give to Fame!" [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS engaged with jovial Friends: Or ... Who sings best?] With friends like these the 'Squire began His new career, and thus it ran, With others whom he chanc'd to light on In trips to _Tunbridge_ or to _Brighton_, SWELLS at most public places known And as gay triflers 'bout the town; Who might, perhaps, at times resort To _Billiard-rooms_ or _Tennis-court_, Where lively grace, and easy skill Might flatter Fortune to their will. _Freeborn_ these gay companions sought, Who soon their brisk disciple taught How to direct his lively course By the snug compass in his purse; In short, who tutor'd his quick sense } In the gay world to make pretence } By modest, well-dress'd impudence. } --Ye _Dandies_, _Bucks_ or by what name _Bond Street_ re-echoes with your fame; Whether in _Dennet_, _Gig_ or _Tandem_, In five-cap'd coats you bang at random, With such nice skill that you may break Your own, or _Dulcinea's_ neck: Or, when lock'd arm in arm you meet, From the plain causeway to the street, Drive Ladies in their morning walk, While you enjoy your lounging talk: Then saunter off to pass your hours In roving through those gaudy bowers Where purchas'd pleasure seems design'd To occupy the thoughtless mind: And, having idled through the day, } To quicken dull night's weary way, } You seek the mask, the dance or play;-- } With you our Hero did contrive To keep himself and time alive; But now and then too prone to trace Those scrapes that border on disgrace, And threat the unreflecting plan Of the best would-be Gentleman! From such as these he was not free, } As we, I fear, shall shortly see, } In this so busy history. } --To him no social life was known, His home, his friends were through the town Who were seen wand'ring here and there, Caring for no one, no one's care; Prepared no pleasures to receive But coin could buy or chance might give; And would prove lively or were dull, As the silk purse was drain'd or full. For though deck'd out with all the art That Fashion's journeymen impart, They never pass'd the tonish wicket Of High-life, but by purchas'd ticket Obtain'd by the resistless bribe To Traitors of the livried tribe, Which, by some bold disguise to aid, Might help them through a masquerade; Or, with some sly, well-fram'd pretence And varnish'd o'er with impudence, A proud admittance might obtain With chance to be turn'd out again: Nor was the luckless _Freeborn_ spar'd, When he the saucy trial dar'd. --One night, the hour we need not tell, Into a trap the coxcomb fell. As through the streets he rattled on Lamps with inviting brilliance shone; The music's sound, the portal's din Told 'twas a joyous scene within: The second bottle of the night, Might have produced a double sight, And two-fold courage to pursue The splendid prospect in his view, He, therefore bade the Hack approach, And at the door present the coach; Then made a push, got through the hall, And quickly mingled with the ball. --Whether his face was too well known Among the dashers of the town, Who do not an admittance gain Among the more distinguish'd train, Whose social habits will exclude The mere street-trampling multitude, Who, like the insects of a day, Make a short buzz and pass away: Or whether the intruding sinner Eat as he seem'd to want a dinner; Or if it did his fancy suit To line his pocket with the fruit; Or if he let some signal fly, Not usual in such company, Or if his spirits were so loud As to alarm the polish'd crowd; Whatever was the Spell that bound him, Suspicion more than hover'd round him; For, he replied with silent stare, } As he was taken unaware, } When he was ask'd how he came there. } Nor did he show a visage bold When, in a whisper, he was told, But still with steady look express'd By the stern Master of the feast, If he wish'd not to play a farce To make his pretty figure scarce. --That such a part he might not play } Which menac'd e'en the least delay, } He thought it best to glide away; } And, to avoid the threat'ning rout, As he push'd in, he darted out. A tonish Matron who ne'er fail'd Where she was ask'd and cards prevail'd, My Lady Dangle was her name, And 'twas the fancy of the dame Still to retain the antique plan At night to dance in a _Sedan Sedans_, so known the fair to coop, When clad in the expanding hoop, Snug chairs borne on by sturdy feet, Once seen in ev'ry courtly street; And one a most uncommon sight, Was waiting at the door to-night; Which, in all due array, was come, To bear my _Lady Dangle_ home. The Chairmen lifted up the top, When _Freeborn_, with a sprightly hop, And his cloak wrapp'd around his face, Made bold to seize the vacant place: The bearers, not intent to know, Whether it were a _Belle_ or _Beau_, Went on--a cheary footman bore A flambeau, blund'ring on before: While, ere the 'Squire, in this sad scrape, Had time to plan his next escape, A heap of Paviour's stones which lay Directly in the Chairmen's way, Gave them a fall upon the road, With their alarm'd, mistaken load. Each Watchman sprang his rousing rattle, But as no voices call'd for battle, They did the best without delay To set the party on their way: While the attendants on the chair, Half-blinded by the flambeau's glare, First rais'd their weighty forms and then Set the _Sedan_ upright again: Nor e'er attempted to explore The hapless head that burst the door. But such was _Freeborn's_ falling fate, Which such confusion did create Within the region of his brain, He did not know his home again: Nay, when the wearied Chairmen stopp'd, Into the house he stagg'ring popp'd; Then to and fro got up the stairs, And, straddling o'er opposing chairs, He star'd, but knew not he was come } To Lady Dangle's Drawing Room, } But wildly thought himself at home. } Then on a sofa threw his length, Thus to regain exhausted strength, And grunted, groan'd and drew his breath, As if it were the hour of death. Sir David Dangle, whom the gout Had kept that night from going out, Was sitting in all sick-man's quiet, Nor dreaming of a scene of riot When, waken'd into wild amaze, He did on the strange vision gaze, While the bold reprobate intrusion Threw all the house into confusion. In rush'd domestics one and all, Who heard the bell's alarming call; While stamping crutch and roaring voice Encreas'd the Knight's awak'ning noise That he might quick assistance stir Against this unknown visiter. But while the household struggled hard To keep him still, and be his guard, Till he thought fit to lay before 'em The cause of all his indecorum; My Lady came to set all right And check the hurry of the night: She then, to soothe his rude alarms Clasp'd her dear Knight within her arms, Those arms which, for full forty years, As from tradition it appears, Had sometimes strok'd his chin and coax'd him, And now and then had soundly box'd him. "It is," she said, "some heated rake, Who has occasion'd the mistake. But loose your hands, I do protest, To be thus us'd, he's too well drest For though his face I do not know } He does some air of fashion show, } Playing his pranks incognito." } --"It may be so," the Knight replied, And then he shook his head and sigh'd: "I'm not a stranger to the game, When I was young, I did the same." --Beside Sir David, Madam sat: To charm his flurry with her chat Her tongue pour'd forth its ready store And talk'd the busy evening o'er; Their biscuits took and, nothing loth, Moisten'd them well with cordial broth; Thus, till bed call'd, enjoy'd their quaffing, He with hoarse chuckle--she with laughing. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ THE PARTY BREAKING UP, AND QUÆ GENUS BREAKING DOWN.] As he his innocence had vow'd, Our Hero press'd his hands and bow'd, Nay look'd, with humble, downcast eye, The Mirror of Apology. Besides, he well knew how to bribe The service of the liv'ried tribe; So, without fear of ill to come, He was convey'd in safety home. --With the next noon his morning came, And serious thoughts began to claim Attention to the Life he past, And how much longer it might last: For the hard blow he had receiv'd, By the chair's fall, had so aggriev'd The Pericranium's tend'rest part That it requir'd a Surgeon's art, Who, to relieve the threat'ning pains Applied the leeches to his veins, He then with blistering proceeded, The strong Cathartic next succeeded, With light debarr'd to either eye, And undisturb'd tranquillity: Such was the system to restore His health to what it was before. Thus bound to silence and confin'd It was a period for the mind To yield to those reflecting powers Which flow from solitary hours. 'Tis said by one, no chattering dunce That changes seldom come at once; And to those changes we refer Which work in human character. Reason at once does not disown us, Nor instant folly seize upon us; It is by a progressive course That habit sinks from bad to worse, And thus the happier impulse moves By which the character improves: The struggle that controuls the will From ill to good, from good to ill, Is not a contest for the power That lasts but through a transient hour. Virtue's fine ardor does not yield But after many a well-fought field;-- Nor do the baser passions cool Till they despair to overule, By secret spell or Virtue's fire, The glowing of the heart's desire. Thus, as through pictur'd life we range, We see the varying landscape change, But, as the diff'rent scenes we view, If we have hearts we feel them too: And then, how charming is the sight When Virtue rises to its height And triumphs o'er the conquer'd foe That flaps its baffled wing below. What though such images as these May look to Eccentricities Beyond the reach of those whose claim Is shelter'd by a borrow'd name: Yet still our system may apply The force of its philosophy To ev'ry track of human life, Where the heart feels conflicting strife; In short, where 'tis the painful lot, And in what bosom is it not, To struggle in the certain feud Between the evil and the good, That in our mortal nature lies With all its known propensities: Nor shall we on our Hero trample As an inadequate example. He'll serve as well as brighter tools To give an edge to moral rules, And _Freeborn's_ frolics may prevail To give a spirit to the tale Which in its fashion and its feature Bears, as we trust, the stamp of nature. --Besides, it surely has appear'd, He was at first in virtue rear'd, Nor do we fear, however cross'd, His Virtue has been wholly lost: Nor will our kind and honest muse The hope, nay the belief refuse, That, after all his follies past, Much good may still remain at last Which might, with Reason's aid, at length, Be felt in more than former strength. How this may happen we shall see In our progressive history. [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS turned out of a house which he mistakes for his own.] Thus he, for many a night and day, In strict, prescriptive silence lay, For he all talking was forbid No friends must visit, if they did, All Galen's efforts would be vain For the re-settling of his brain; And when acquaintance chanc'd to come It must be said, "He's not at home:" Nay, his kind friends, when it appear'd, That e'en his life was rather fear'd, And that his hospitable fare Might quickly vanish into air: Though as the knocker still was tied, They just ask'd if he liv'd or died. But other reasons soon prevail That made his vain pretensions fail To ask them now and then to dine, And prove their welcome by his wine. For when they left him others came, More constant in their wish and aim; Who, while the Doctor order'd pills, Would call, perhaps, to leave their bills; And sometimes in the way of trade Might ask the favour to be paid. These things, as he lay still in bed, Would sometimes tease his shaken head, And force him to consult his hoard, } To know what hopes that might afford } When he to health should be restor'd. } --That time arriv'd and he was free From offering another fee, But then he found more clumsy hands Ready to grasp enlarg'd demands. --In all the playgames he had sought He found, at last, as might be thought, In worst of scrapes he now was left, Our 'Squire, alas, was deep in debt, And which was worse, of the amount, He could not pay the full account: Nor were his drooping spirits cheer'd When ev'ry day a Dun appear'd. There were no frolics now to charm The mind from feeling the alarm, At thought so painful to endure Th' afflicting thought of being poor. But though Discretion oft had fail'd him, And Folly's Gim-crack schemes assail'd him Though his whole conduct might not bear The scrutinizing eye severe: Yet honour was not dispossest Of a snug corner in his breast, Which there an influence did maintain, And, call'd to speak, spoke not in vain; For he refus'd, at once, to hear What smiling Knaves pour'd in his ear, To scrape the relics of his hoard, Make a long skip and get abroad; Seize the first favourable wind, And laugh at those he left behind. --The counsel given, was given in vain; He met it with a just disdain, Bore with mild humour each sly sneer, And smil'd when Folly chose to jeer; Resolv'd to pay to his last groat, Though standing in his only coat. --'Twas thus he thought in temper cool, "I may be call'd vain, silly fool, And something more I might deserve, But I would dig or almost starve, Rather than in that concert join, Which sprightly vagabonds design." --Suspicion may be sometimes led To doubt the vows which, on the bed Of pain and sickness, may be made, } When, by a trait'rous world betray'd } Hope's future prospects sink and fade. } For when Contrition views the past, Because the passing day's o'ercast Yet does no more its place retain When smiling hours return again, 'Tis but an hypocritic art To mock the world and cheat the heart. But our sick Hero, as the verse Will, with unvarnish'd truth, rehearse, An eye of tearful sorrow threw } O'er some past years' reproachful view, } And trembling at the future too. } Thus, of some awkward fears possess'd, He held a council in his breast, And felt the way to be pursued Was now to do the best he could, And call on Justice to receive The only tribute he could give. Thus, at once, honest and discreet, He call'd his Creditors to meet To hear proposals which he thought They would receive as just men ought: Nay, fancied, when he told his tale, That lib'ral notions would prevail; Nor could his gen'rous mind foresee The fruits of his integrity: For when he walk'd into the room He found th' invited guests were come, Who soon began in hideous measure, To play away their loud displeasure, Not unlike _Andrews_ at a fair Who to make gaping rustics stare, Expand their lanky, lanthern jaws That fire may issue from their maws. One darted forth revengeful looks, Another pointed to his books Wherein a charge was never made, } That did not honour to his trade; } And curs'd th' accounts which were not paid, } Nor fail'd to wish he could convey them, We'll not say where, who did not pay them. A _third_, as hard as he was able, Struck his huge fist upon the table. While, beastly names from many a tongue, Around the room resounding rung. As _Freeborn_ had not quite possest The hope that he should be carest, He rather look'd with down-cast eye, To win by his humility, And put on a repentant face As suited to the awkward place: Nay, his high spirits he prepar'd And call'd discretion for their guard In case, though it was not expected, Decorum should be quite neglected:-- But when the Butcher strok'd his sleeve, } Brandish'd his steel and call'd him thief, } Belching forth mutton, veal and beef; } When touch'd by such a market sample They join'd to follow his example; When stead of praise for honest doing } And the fair course he was pursuing } They loos'd their banter on his ruin; } His prudence then was thrown aside From sense of irritated pride, And, patient bearing quite exhausted, He thus the angry circle roasted.-- "You all in your abuse may shine, But know--_Abuse will never coin_! Remember you have had my trade, For some few years, and always paid; While for your charges you must own, I let them pass, nor cut them down, And Customers, such fools like me Are Prizes in your Lottery. Put but your loss and gain together, I should deserve your favour, rather Than this rude and unseemly treating, As if I gain'd my bread by cheating. You know, you set of thankless calves, You are well paid if paid by halves; And spite of knowing nods and blinking, I have been told, and can't help thinking, All that now may remain to pay The claims which bring me here to-day, A just Arithmetic would tell Will pay your honours very well! But I have done--nay, I shall burst If I say more----so do your worst.----" [Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ QUÆ GENUS & CREDITORS.] He threw himself into a chair, While each at each began to stare; When, from a corner of the room, A milder voice appear'd to come, And, without prefatory art, Was heard opinions to impart Which as he spoke them, did not fail O'er the loud rancour to prevail. "Gem'men,-- "I cannot but refuse My honest vote to your abuse; And had I thought it was your plan Thus to foul-mouth a _Gentleman_, (And such he is, I'll boldly say, By all he has propos'd to-day) I would have stay'd and minded home, Nor to this boist'rous Meeting come! You could not give a harder banging To one whose deeds had call'd for hanging. What I've to say there's no denying-- Nor will I please you now by lying. For no short time, you all can tell, We each charg'd high and he paid well; Nay, now that he is gone to pot He gives us all that he has got, And with a pittance is content To take him to the Continent: Nor by sly tricks does he deceive ye But gives you all that he can give you; And, if again of wealth possest, I doubt not but he'll pay the rest; Now he who does the best he can, I'm certain he's a _Gentleman_. For me, whate'er may be your will, I'll take his terms and trust him still; And my best judgement recommends The same right conduct to my friends." Much more the lib'ral tradesman said And still continued to persuade With arguments that bore the test From that known power call'd Interest, Which, by degrees, becalm'd the riot, And clos'd the scene in gen'ral quiet. Thus, grumb'ling o'er, with parting glass, The settling hour was seen to pass, And soon dismiss'd our _Freeborn_ home To meditate on times to come, _With the first pleasure man can know, Of doing what he ought to do_. Whether it was his ready way, As we know not, we cannot say-- But as he saunter'd through a court, A passage of no small resort, Well known to Lawyer's daily tread, As to the _King's-Bench Walks_ it led, A Placard of no common size Compell'd the gaze of passing eyes: When, as he read, he saw it bore The well-known name he whilom bore, While there was forc'd upon his view The _Rev'rend_ DOCTOR SYNTAX too; Nay, as he thought, it seem'd to be A Brief of his own History: Nor was it sure an idle whim To think that it belong'd to him. The Advertisement did address, In all the pomp of printing press, Th' important loss which was sustain'd And the reward that might be gain'd By those who should the loss restore To those who did th' event deplore. Then o'er and o'er he read the paper That set his spirits in a caper; For when he trac'd the pedigree, He whisper'd to himself--"'_Tis_ ME." Nor do I from the hope refrain, } Nor do I think I boast in vain,-- } QUÆ GENUS is _Himself again_!" } But here it may become the verse, The Placard's purpose to rehearse, This ADVERTISEMENT courts regard To full FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS reward. * * * * * "_Upwards of TWENTY YEARS ago, Or more or less it may be so, Some one had ventur'd to expose In clean and decent swaddling clothes, An INFANT, laid before the door Mark'd number THREE in number FOUR, Of Chambers which distinction claim, And Paper Buildings is their name: Now any one who can but give } Assurance that He still doth live, } The above reward will then receive. } QUÆ GENUS is the Foundling's name, Which, if alive, he best can claim, For now at least it is not known That he can any other own. The kind_ Protector _of his_ Birth } _Was a Divine of highest worth-- } Who held preferment in the North_-- } _SYNTAX was his much-honour'd name, Nor is he now unknown to Fame. But time has long since laid his head On his last low and silent bed; And search has hitherto been vain, The Foundling's present state to gain. A Laundress now is still alive Who can some information give, And BETTY BROOM is the known name Of the communicating Dame To whose kind care deliver'd first, The Babe was given to be nurs'd. Th' exposure she can well display As if it were but yesterday, But further knowledge is requir'd And what events may have conspir'd To shape his Life--If he should live, 'Tis what this paper asks to give. Who has such tidings and will tell 'em, With all due proofs, to Mr. VELLUM, Or sent by Post to his abode, Near_ Shoreditch Church _in_ Hackney Road, _Will the remuneration prove That's fully stated as above._" Again he read the paper o'er, Resolv'd its purport to explore, And strait to _Number_ THREE repairs When hobbling down the ancient stairs, He met the Matron whom he sought, And told his story as he ought, A rapid sketch--nor did it fail To be an interesting Tale: Which when she heard, against the wall The broom she held was seen to fall, And scarce her old arms could prevail To bear the burthen of her pail. Her glasses then she sought to place On the _Proboscis_ of her face; Not that a likeness she should see 'Tween riper years and infancy. But now her heart began to melt At _Recollections_ that she felt, And thus she wish'd to tell them o'er, As she had often done before. "What, though so many years are gone, And you to man's estate are grown, Since I, in all its infant charms, Dandled the Foundling in my arms, Were I but certain it was _you_, Yes I would hug--and kiss you too." --But though he vow'd and did exclaim He was the very--very same; And though he put forth ev'ry grace } With which his words could gild his face, } He could not gain a kind embrace; } Though twenty-five don't often sue To claim a kiss from sixty-two: But some suspicions had possess'd The avenues to _Betty's_ breast; For she liv'd where her open ear Was practis'd ev'ry day to hear Of art array'd in fairest guise And truth o'erthrown by artifice. Thus what could the old Matron do? She fear'd him false, and wish'd him true: Then turn'd him round, but look'd aghast, As at his back her eye she cast; When she thus spoke, and heav'd a sigh, "I hope it is not treachery! Before that door the child lay sprawling, And mov'd the Doctor with its squalling: But, before Heaven I can swear, It then was as a Cherub fair; Strait as a little arrow he, In perfect form and symmetry; And from its neck unto its rump, Believe me, he had no such hump As that, though hid with every care, Your injur'd form is seen to bear; And cannot but appear to be A natural deformity. How this change came of course you know,-- With the poor child it was not so;-- Prepare its Hist'ry to explain, Or you will visit here in vain. --My good young man, strive not to cheat, Nor think to profit by deceit: You have with knowing folk to do, Not to be foil'd by such as you. I own you tell a moving tale, But Facts alone will now prevail: You will be sifted up and down Till e'en your marrow-bones are known. --I've not another word to say; To _Master Vellum_ take your way, You'll find him at his snug abode Near _Shoreditch Church_, in _Hackney Road_: For, when the infant first was left, Of all parental care bereft, The Bookseller and I, between us, Had much to do with dear QUÆ GENUS: For to his shop I us'd to go 'Twas then in _Paternoster Row_, As he the money did supply For the poor Foundling's nursery. --O, if he finds your story true, } It will, indeed, be well for you! } I will then hug and kiss you too!" } He took his leave--she gave a blessing As good, perhaps, as her caressing. In haste, and on his great intent To _Vellum_ He his footsteps bent; Who had long since left off the trade By which he had a fortune made: But why we do the old Man see A figure in this history, Becomes a duty to explain, Nor shall it be employ'd in vain: And now, as brief as can be told, We must the Mystery unfold; And, since so many years are o'er, Why it was not explain'd before. Though he who length of life has seen, Must have a cold observer been; Whose languid or incurious eye Has not the power to descry, On what a chain of odds and ends The course of Human Life depends. But now we quit the beaten road And turn into an _Episode_, Nor fear the track, though we shall draw The picture of a _Man of Law_; For we have seldom had to do With one so gen'rous, just and true; So he was thought by grateful fame, And _Fairman_ was the good man's name. If in that long-suspected trade An honest fortune e'er was made 'Twas that he could in Honour boast As Justice always tax'd the cost. 'Twas his to bid Contention cease And make the Law a Friend to peace: He strove to silence rising feud, And all his practice led to good: By mildest means it was his aim To silence each opposing claim; To take Injustice by the brow And make it to right reason bow: Nay, where in courts he must contend, He saw no foe, and knew no friend. He fail'd not by his utmost power To wing with speed Law's ling'ring hour; A busy foe to dull delay, He spurr'd each process on its way; Nor were his words, by skill made pliant, Arrang'd to flatter any Client: Whene'er he claim'd his well-earn'd Fee, _Justice_ and _Law_ would answer--_Yea_. And when Oppression knit its brow And said, _proceed_,--He answer'd--_No_. --When summon'd to the great _Assize_, Held in the Court above the skies, He will not be afraid to hear The VERDICT which awaits him _there_. --Such was the Man who soon would own QUÆ GENUS as his darling Son. CANTO IX The man of pure and simple heart Through Life disdains a double part, Nor does he need a mean device His inward bosom to disguise: Thus as he stands before mankind His actions prove an honest mind. But though 'gainst Reason's rigid rule He may have play'd the early fool, As wise men may, perhaps, have done In the long race which they have run; For Passion, which will act its part In the best regulated heart, Is, as we may too often see Beset with Nature's frailty. Yet Virtue in its course prevails; } The better impulse seldom fails } When smiling Conscience holds the scales: } Nay, through the venial errors past, Maintains its influence to the last, And thus, with righteous hope endued, Rests on _predominating good_. Something like this we hope to see In our progressive History. One morn as worthy _Fairman_ lay Courting his pillow's soft delay, Enjoying, in his mind's fair view, Good he had done, or meant to do; A Letter came, as it appear'd, Sign'd by a name, he'd never heard, To beg he instant would attend An old and long-forgotten friend, Matter of import to unfold Which could by her alone be told, Whose trembling hand in Nature's spite Had strove the wretched scrawl to write. She wish'd into his ear to pour The tidings of a dying hour, Which she was anxious to impart To the recesses of his heart. This Summons the good man obey'd And found upon, a sick-bed laid, A female form, whose languid eye Seem'd to look bright when he drew nigh. --"Listen," she said, "I humbly pray, Though short the time, I've much to say. My features now no longer bear The figure when you thought them fair: MARIA was my borrow'd name } When passion shook my early claim } To woman's glory, that chaste fame } Which when once lost, no power should give, But to repent--the wish to live. A mother's lab'ring pangs I knew, And the child ow'd its life to you. Though ever gen'rous, just and kind Here doubt perplex'd your noble mind, And had dispos'd you to believe That I was false, and could deceive: But now, if solemn oaths can prove, And if my dying words can move, Should he be living, I'll make known The Babe I bore to be _your own_. Scarce was it born, but 'twas my care That you a parent's part should bear. My quiv'ring hands then wrapp'd it o'er, } I trembling plac'd it on the floor } And gave a signal at the door: } When I, my eyes bedimm'd with tears, And flurried by alarming fears, In a dark night mistook the stair And left it to a stranger's care. Such was my error, as I thought The child was harbour'd where it ought; And, O my friend, how well I knew The helpless would be safe with YOU:-- And when, by secret means, I heard It was receiv'd and would be rear'd, I doubted not you did prepare The blessings of a parent's care. --I was content, and join'd the train Of warring men who cross'd the main; And since, for twenty years or more, I've follow'd Camps on India's shore; But when, how chang'd by years of pain, I saw my native land again, I look'd, how vainly, for the joy Of seeing my deserted Boy! Think how my disappointment grew, } When, from a strict research, I knew } He never had been known to you! } But, favour'd by the will of Heaven, To Mercy's hand he has been given; Though of his first or latter years No record of him yet appears: At least, beyond the earliest day As in his cot the Infant lay, And when his smiling place of rest Was on a fondling nurse's breast! I the child's story, but in vain, Have strove with anxious heart to gain; For she who gave him milk still lives And tells all that her mem'ry gives. But of your child what is become, Whether he has a house or home, Whether he sails the ocean o'er } Or wanders on some desert shore, } Whether he lives or breathes no more, } If you've the heart that once I knew May shortly be made known to you: For, with the means which you possess, He may be found your age to bless. I only ask of Heaven to live To see him your embrace receive; And, dare I hope the joy, to join A mother's fond embrace with thine: Then may my pilgrim wanderings cease, And I, at length, shall die in peace! --Thus I have my last duty done, And may kind Heaven restore your Son!--" --She spoke--the tale she did impart Sunk deep into the good man's heart; For, as he said, there did not live To close his eyes one relative. He then in eager speech declar'd No cost, no labour should be spar'd The Boy to find, and should he be What his fond eyes might wish to see, His Father's name he soon would bear, And of his fortune be the Heir. --No time was lost--what could be done, To give her ease and find her Son, Was soon employ'd in ev'ry way That public notice could display. The good man now the subject weigh'd, Then call'd in VELLUM to his aid, And did, with anxious wish commend The office to his long-known friend, To set afloat enquiry due If what MARIA told were true; Nor did he think of pains or cost To find the stray-sheep that was lost. "To you," he said, "I give the task, The greatest favour I can ask, To trace, if 'tis in any power, The _Foundling_ from that favor'd hour When DOCTOR SYNTAX first receiv'd The child and all its wants reliev'd; And you, at once, call'd in to share The wishes of his guardian care. Believe me that my high-wrought feeling, Which you must see there's no concealing," (For the tear glisten'd in his eye, And his breast spoke the long-drawn sigh) "Disdains at once all sordid sense Which hesitates at recompence: O what would I refuse to give Should he be blest with worth and live! Indulge my whims--nor let me know } Or what you've done or what you do, } Till you can answer--_Yea_ or _No_. } Till your grave voice attests my claim To bear a parent's tender name: Nor let the claimant here be shown, Till he is prov'd to be my own." VELLUM began by exercising His well-known zeal in advertising; Nay, did, from _Kent_, to the _Land's-End_, QUÆ GENUS and his birth extend, And as the _King's Bench Walks_ had been Of his first days the curious scene, Within those environs were spread The grand _Placards_ which he had read; And did a forc'd attention call To many a window, many a wall, Whose tempting story to rehearse Has wak'd an effort in our verse. QUÆ GENUS' plain, consistent tale Seem'd with old VELLUM to prevail; And rather tallied with the view Of what, in former times, he knew: But, that same _Hump_ his shoulders bore, And oft had been his foe before, Forbad the Laundress to bestow A favouring opinion now; The want of which kept things aloof From certain and substantial proof. For though the Doctors in the North, } Men of acknowledg'd skill and worth, } Were ready to confirm on oath, } That, 'twas disease which gave the blow And bent the strait back to a bow; Yet this same Hump of direful note Still stuck in _Betty's_ doubtful throat, For all that she would say or swear Was, when the Child was in her care, To the most, keen, observing eye, His back bore no deformity; And thus continued the suspense From want of better evidence. --_Vellum_ was not without a fear, That, from the Gout's attack severe, The anxious Father's self might die Before truth clear'd the Mystery, And had, from doubt reliev'd, made known The Child as his begotten Son-- Besides on his discovery bent, To _Oxford_ when kind _Vellum_ went, To seek his venerable Friend, The well-known Rev'rend DOCTOR BEND, Who would have set all matters right, He died on the preceding night. But still, as we pass on our way, What changes mark life's transient day; The sun-beams gild the o'erhanging cloud, The mists the glitt'ring rays enshroud; And, while from storms of beating rain } We strive some shelter to obtain, } The scene is chang'd--'tis bright again. } Hence 'tis we share th' uncertain hour Of joys that smile, of cares that lour. Thus, while Enquiry seem'd to wear The very aspect of Despair, A sudden instantaneous thought Was to OLD BETTY'S mem'ry brought, That a _Ripe_ STRAWBERRY, blushing red, As it grew on its verdant bed, By Nature's whimsey, was impress'd Not on the cheek or on the breast But _Betty_ said, "'Tis I know where, } And could I once but see it there, } On Bible Book, ay, I would swear, } The young man is the child who left, And, of a mother's care bereft, Was by the Doctor given to me To nurse his tender Infancy." --QUÆ GENUS now was call'd to tell What he knew of this secret spell. When he without delay declar'd What of the mark he oft had heard By gamesome play-fellows at school When he was bathing in the pool; And though he sometimes strove to feel it, Its strange position did conceal it From his own eyes, though, as a joke, It often did a laugh provoke. Then did he to her wish display, What the verse hides from open day; But _Betty Broom_ was not so shy } To turn away her curious eye } From this same blushing STRAWBERRY. } Nay, when she saw the mark, she swore She oft had kiss'd it o'er and o'er; And, were he not to manhood grown, She'd do what she so oft had done. O she exclaim'd with tears of joy, QUÆ GENUS is the very boy Whom their so anxious wishes sought And was to full discovery brought. --Nor was this all, at the strange show Old VELLUM wip'd his moisten'd brow, And said, with an uplifted eye, "Here ends this curious Mystery." When he again, the Symbol saw In its right place without a flaw, At once he did remember well, SYNTAX would smiling oft foretell, This mark might to _the Foundling_ show To whom he did existence owe. "'Tis all fulfill'd, the proof is shewn,-- The FATHER may embrace _his Son_!" As _Vellum_, thought another hour Should not delay that darling power He to his friend's impatient ear In all due substance did declare The Hist'ry of QUÆ GENUS past, With all the proofs from first to last, As on his own conviction shone That he was truly _Fairman's_ Son: When the good man, with brighten'd eye, And the heart's tend'rest sympathy, As he look'd upwards thus express'd The joy that revell'd in his breast. "From all I've heard and you have shown With zeal and friendship rarely known, To the fond truth I'm reconcil'd That poor QUÆ GENUS is my Child, Confirm'd by all his Mother said, As I sat by her dying bed; And ere another sun shall shine, I'll prove, at least, I think him mine, By giving him a rightful claim To share my fortune and my name. You then, my friend, may bring him here, 'Tis a strange task, but do not fear, At this so unexpected hour, My firmness will relax its power,-- Though I'm beneath a certain course Of medicine, of promis'd force On which I have a firm reliance To bid the tort'ring Gout defiance, My vig'rous spirits will sustain The shock of joy as well as pain." --_Vellum_, with pleasure now withdrew To shape the approaching Interview,-- And suit QUÆ GENUS to a change: So unexpected and so strange; But how can we relate the scene That is about to intervene Where we shall see in different parts The weeping eyes, the melting hearts, Affection's warm and yielding sense And looks of cold indifference, While Reason yields, with ample fee, To be the dupe of Quackery. This to describe with all the rest The verse, we trust, will do its best; But if the labour it refuses We'll scout OLD POLL and his NINE MUSES, And leave our JOHN TROT lines to tell The Story and, we hope, as well. An _Empiric_ had hither bent His journey from the Continent, Who boasted, by his Chymic skill, Disease was subject to his will; And that his cunning had found out A _Panacea_ for the _Gout_. It seems this wonderful receipt Form'd a warm-bath for legs and feet; And ev'ry day, for a full hour, The period might be less or more, The Patient sat, but ill at ease His legs immers'd up to his knees, Each in a pail just plac'd before him Fill'd with a fluid to restore him. _Fairman_, who dup'd by Quack'ry's lures, Had often sought for promis'd cures Thought it would be no harm to try The efforts of this Remedy. --But _Vellum_ eager to make known This curious pair as SIRE and SON. Did not consult his better reason Respecting the right place and season, But a most heedless moment sought When he QUÆ GENUS trembling brought, While the Old Man up to his knees Was bathing for expected ease, And thought of nothing but the ails He hop'd to drown within the pails. Then _Vellum_ said, my Duty's done Behold, my friend and see your Son! QUÆ GENUS, kneeling on the floor, Began a blessing to implore! The good man said, I ask of Heaven That its protection may be given To this my long-lost, darling Boy Of coming time my only joy! 'Twas then he press'd the frizzled hair And sunk back senseless in his chair. The good old _Bookseller_ amaz'd On the strange, motley picture gaz'd, And _Betty Broom_ began to vow "'Twere pity he should die just now." While the staid Cook, whose ev'ry feature Scarce knew a change from sober nature, Was to expression ne'er beguil'd, Who never wept nor ever smil'd Then calmly said, but said no more, "I never saw him so before:"-- While, "look! behold! see he revives!" QUÆ GENUS cried--"my Father lives!" Wonder and Gratitude and Fainting Were there combin'd--what could be wanting To make the melting scene complete, But coffin and a winding-sheet? Nor were those symbols long to seek, For, in a short and happy week, Which was in warm affection past, The exulting Father breath'd his last. [Illustration: QUÆ GENUS DISCOVERS HIS FATHER.] Here then we make a pause to ask How Fortune will achieve its task, And, to indulge the curious view, What track the Fancy must pursue, From such a change in the affairs Of the poor Foundling on the stairs. Whether the passions active strife Will check repose and trouble life; Whether the inmate of his breast Will lead to turbulence or rest, Make him repose beneath the shade At ease and indolently laid; Whether the mind will yield to pleasure In that seducing form and measure, Which strews temptations ev'ry hour And gold commands with ready power: --But other notions we had brought The proofs of our prophetic thought; That, not without a gleam of pride, He would chuse Reason for his guide. When with a plenteous income arm'd And hospitable bosom warm'd, He from the gay world would retire And turn into a Country 'Squire; Then, with those charms which heighten life, And blossom in a pleasing wife, Enjoy that calm and tranquil state } That does on Independence wait, } Nor spurns the low, nor courts the great: } And though not from those frailties free The Lot of man's infirmity, He might pass on to rev'rend age, And die a Christian and a sage. --Thus we our Hero's picture drew As hope inspir'd, for future view, Such as the coming years might see, Such as we hop'd that he would be. But soon appear'd a threat'ning storm That did the expected scene deform, And many a cloud began to lour That veils the intellectual hour, Though gleams of light would oft controul The darksome chaos of the soul: And a bright, instantaneous ray Would gild a cloud and chear the day; And now and then a serious thought Was to its proper object brought. Whene'er, oppress'd with sudden gloom, In solemn steps he pac'd the room; Then, his looks beaming with content, He turn'd to Joy and Merriment, And Reason, for a wav'ring hour, Would seem to re-assume its power. Yet social habits he disclaim'd, Wept when he prais'd, laugh'd when he blam'd, And, sometimes frowning, would declare Life was not worth the liver's care. --Whether it was the sudden change, So unexpected and so strange, Or the accession large of wealth Broke in upon his reason's health, Or the concussion of his brain } Which the night's frolic did sustain, } Our science knows not to explain. } Old _Betty_ thought it must be Love, Which she would undertake to prove, As in his freaks that seem'd like folly He sung and danc'd and talk'd of _Molly_, And frequently was seen to scrawl Figures in chalk upon the wall, Then fancy that he scatter'd flowers And sat in gay and fragrant bowers. --Whate'er the hidden cause might be, } No sage experience could foresee } A cure for his Infirmity. } He now grew worse from day to day, And Nature hasten'd to decay: It soon was seen, no art could save QUÆ GENUS from an early grave. --Old _Vellum_ did not quit his care And _Betty Broom_ was always there. The FOUNDLING'S Life she had attended, As it began, and as it ended: His earliest days her cares embrac'd, Her aged eyes wept o'er his last: They did his dying hour behold! --Reader Farewell,----The Story's told! THE END PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH 
45784	----	[Illustration: GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, _Eminent Caricaturist_, 1792-1879.] GALLERY OF COMICALITIES; EMBRACING HUMOROUS SKETCHES BY THE BROTHERS _ROBERT and GEORGE CRUIKSHANK_, [Illustration] _ROBERT SEYMOUR_, AND OTHERS. =London:= Charles Hindley, 41, BOOKSELLERS' ROW, ST. CLEMENT DANES, STRAND, W.C. THE GALLERY OF COMICALITIES. Most of the "COMICALITIES" here re-produced in _fac simile_ first appeared in the columns of BELL'S LIFE IN LONDON AND SPORTING CHRONICLE during the years 1827-8 and 9, and caused an unprecedented increase in the weekly sale of that journal. As a painter of LIFE and NATURE, in all their truth and eccentricity, GEORGE CRUIKSHANK may be truly said to stand unrivalled, and to be only equalled, even in former times by the inimitable HOGARTH. The present Series has been principally selected from "CRUIKSHANK'S _Illustrations of_ TIME and PHRENOLOGY," and his _Illustrations_ to Mr. Wright's "MORNINGS AT BOW STREET" and the sequel entitled "MORE MORNINGS AT BOW STREET"--works which are replete with wit and humour. ROBERT CRUIKSHANK, the elder brother of George Cruikshank, Illustrated many books, &c., including Pierce Egan's, "THE FINISH to the Adventures of TOM, JERRY, and LOGIC, in their pursuits through LIFE in and out of London," 1827. Died March 13, 1856. Aged 65 years. ROBERT SEYMOUR, a graphic humourist was born in London, about the year 1800. He was apprenticed to Mr. Thomas Vaughan, a pattern-drawer in Spitalfields, and his practice in that department of art appears to have given him the facility and accuracy of pencil for which he was afterwards so distinguished. Within a very short period of fulfilling his term of apprenticeship, he commenced, on his own account, as a painter in oils, and must have been tolerably expert at that early age, as already in the spring of 1822, we find him exhibiting a picture of some pretensions at the Royal Academy. He executed various other oil paintings about this period, but the more pressing demand on his talents was for drawings on wood, a mode of book illustration then in great vogue. The various illustrated books and periodicals published for the next ten or twelve years bespeak his popularity and industry in that department. Although Seymour's hands were full of commissions for drawing on wood, he was always desirous of practice in a more independent department of art, feeling that the engraver, however competent, frequently failed to communicate the full force of his drawing. He, therefore, determined--where possible, on etching or engraving his own designs on copper or steel. He was very successful in full length sketches of public characters, and has left us many life-like portraits of members of the Turf and Drama between 1830 and 1836. But of all Seymour's various works his "Humorous Sketches" were his prime favourites, and will best perpetuate his name. They were first published between the years 1834 and 1836, in detached prints at 3d. each, by Mr. Richard Carlisle, of Fleet Street. The entire collection was subsequently engraved on steel, and published in 1838, with letterpress description by Crowquill (Alfred Henry Forrester), the popular humourist of the day. Figaro in London--the popular predecessor of Punch, edited and published by Gilbert A'Beckett from December 1831 to 1836--contains nearly 300 woodcuts after Seymour. They were also published separately as "Seymour's Caricature Gallery," and after his death were all re-published on six large sheets, each containing 20 subjects, as "Seymour's Comic Scrap Sheets." Seymour's connection with the publication and illustration of the now famous Pickwick Papers is well known to the reading world by the printed statement of Mrs. Seymour, and Charles Dickens' own account of the origin of the Pickwick Papers, to need repetition. [Illustration: FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS of the DRAMA by _Robert Cruikshank_.] [Illustration: THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.] Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly, 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did see; You've only got to pop your head within inside of the door, You'll see so many curious things you never saw before! Will you, will you, will you, will you, Walk in pretty Fly, &c. ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE DRAMA "WHERE SHALL I DINE." [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] Where shall I dine? Would I could tell, For, hungry, faint, and weary, It is to me, I know full well, An all-important query. Thou Man of Flank! a CUT of thine Would silence hunger's call; But a Friend's, CUT alas! is mine, "The unkindest cut of all." O for a herring, dainty fish! Or tender lambkin's fry; But as in vain for MEAT I wish, 'Tis MEET that I should sigh. Ere by the freaks of Fortune floor'd, Such was my former luck, That under many a friendly board My trotters I could tuck. Now, though at dining hour I go, From house to house I roam, My rap too well the servants know, And "Master's not at home." 'Tis getting cold, and wet, and dark, To fate I must resign; Duke Humphrey calls me to the Park, And with his Grace I'll dine. "THE PILOT." [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] Thou, guardian Pilot of the night, One favour we would ax-- Tell us, old Cock, and tell us right, Where we can get some Max? We need the skilful pilot's aid Amid the billows' roar, And pilots still I find, old Blade, Are handy lads ashore. Then steer us for a friendly port And keep the wessel steady, And you shall have a dram of short-- In brandy, rum, or Deady. With bread and cheese I'll stow your hold; I likes a hearty grubber; But, shiver me, it's getting cold, So take the helm, you lubber. Come, Poll, my buxom wench make sail, I'm one as never fears man, To reach our port we cannot fail With such an able steersman. Then come, old Boy, there's nought to pay, For I will be your banker; Nor do I care how long you stay Wherever we cast anchor. "IS HE JEALOUS?" [Illustration] "O fly with me, my lady fair-- I love and I adore you; Henceforth the heart and fortune share Of him who kneels before you. "Then listen to thy lover's vows, Nor of vain scruples tell us; Why care a pin about your spouse-- Confound him!--is he jealous?" "Go, get you gone, you naughty man, Nor dare attempt my virtue; I hide my blushes with my fan, Yet I've no wish to hurt you." Then, gay Lothario! persevere-- Still urge thy passion brisker; Nor dread an interloper here, Thou man of bushy whisker! If, armed with poker and with pop, Poor Spouse should be so rude now As at this moment in to drop, Faith! wouldn't he intrude now? O, married dames! when lovers' sighs Steal softly on your ear, Shun the temptation, if you're wise-- The Devil's always near. "MACBETH." [Illustration] "What fearful vision strikes thy sight, What phantom haunts thy brain, That thus thou startest with affright, Thou sooty-visaged Thane?" "No dagger stained with blood I view, To fill my soul with dread; But SPIRITS pale of RUIN BLUE Of DEADY--not the DEAD-- "To clutch thee how this breast doth throb, Thou source of purest pleasure, Fain would I wash my sooty gob From yon Imperial measure! "Soon may the cordial MAX be mine, My sinking heart to cheer; So my grim soul no more shall pine On INTERMEDIATE Beer. "And when the FLUID warms my FLUE, Rous'd by the generous stuff, I'm ---- if I'm the Faker who Shall first cry, 'Hold--enough!'" "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL." [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] What relish to the tea you sip, How smoothly it goes down, If a poor friend has made a slip, Or suffer'd Fortune's frown. "Well! these are shocking things I hear, To doubt I much incline; At any rate, you know, my dear, It's no concern of mine. "But if such courses folks will chose, And many do not doubt it, For us, you know, there's some excuse, If we should talk about it. "There's something more, I plainly see Which you don't chose to utter; Do make a confidant of me-- Do take some bread and butter." Scandal's a most delightful theme-- A spring that ne'er will fail; But, Tabitha, you little dream, You're scalding Pussy's tail! Like the wild maniac is your breath-- Of all mankind the pest-- Who scatters poison, ruin, death, Then cries, "'Twas but in jest!" "EVERY MAN HAS HIS FAULT." [Illustration] Doctor, thy accents, soft and bland, Are ever sure to please; What female bosom can withstand A Parson on his knees? "No more will I, with drunken sot, Carry connubial farce on; If thou, fond man will share my lot, And prove an upright Parson. "With stagg'ring spouse no longer vex'd, Free from a useless charge, Henceforward love shall be the text On which we'll both enlarge." A parson, naughty people say, Is but a sinful elf-- Like road-post, pointing out the way He never takes himself. "O, come and bless these Reverend arms, Nor scorn my holy vows; Why did hard Fate bestow such charms Upon a drunken spouse. "O, can it be a fault to love A lady so divine? Then, by the powers that reign above, I own that fault is mine." "LOVE, LAW, AND PHYSIC." [Illustration: "But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The petty follies that themselves commit." SHAKESPEARE.] "Lady, the Patient's very ill, "The pulse is sinking fast, "'Tis really time to make his will, "I'm sure he cannot last. "Though, as we bear him to his grave, "Your grief you cannot smother, "As one man's life I cannot save, "I'll soon provide another." This language we might well suppose, Would at such time have shock'd her; But the poor Lady's looks disclose No wrath towards the Doctor. Then, Lawyer, all in vain you sue, For Physic must succeed, And what, alas! remains for you? The WILL--without the DEED. "RAISING THE WIND." [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] A long farewell my breeks of shag; It grieves me to the heart, To doom thee to a Hebrew's bag-- But you and I must part. No more thy substance, smooth and warm, Shall shield me from the weather; And I must bear the pelting storm, With bare and breekless nether. The loss 'tis needless to deplore, To my hard fate I bow, I was an Irishman before, I am a Scotsman now. Poverty in this vale of woe Some strange acquaintance brings; And Poverty full well I know Makes people do strange things. Why doth yon Nymph with warming pan Parade the streets about? To raise the needful as she can-- To put it up the spout! How many noble, good, and wise, Are turn'd in life adrift-- Forced their last SHIRT to sacrifice, To make another SHIFT. "MEASURE FOR MEASURE." [Illustration: "Measures, not men, have always been my mark." GOLDSMITH.--_The Good-Natured Man._] "Die! dastard Snip--that mortal thrust Shall perforate thy lungs, And lay thee prostrate in the dust, Thou proudest of the Dungs! "No more, among my cross-legg'd band, Thy schemes shall gender strife; And ne'er again thy rebel hand Attempt thy master's life! "Where, now, are all thy idle boasts? This blow shall introduce Thy Spirit where the Tailor ghosts Eat visionary goose! "Down, Traitor! to thy native Hell! Fresh treasons there to plan-- With recreant spectre Snips to dwell-- Thou fraction of a man! "Ye restless Dungs of spirit rough, From this example know-- ONE ACTIVE MEASURE is enough To lay a traitor low!" "THE BOTTLE IMP." [Illustration] Imp of the Bottle! appear, appear, Arm'd with fresh fluid our souls to cheer; Thy features with mirth and good humour beaming, Thy nectar luscious, and bright and creaming-- What is the name of the Bottle Sprite? The Star of the Colonnade--Charley Wright. Long be the precious beverage quaff'd! Open your lips to receive the draught. The magic power of the bright Champagne Shall sooth the spirit and fire the brain; And trouble and grief will vanish quite From the happy realms of the Bottle Sprite. To those who have long been estrang'd from mirth, And weary moments have pass'd on earth; On whom the storm of adversity lowers, While, in secret, they sigh for happier hours, O let not the Bottle Imp whisper in vain; There's a cure for all care in this bright Champagne; As the mist on the mountain melts away At the radiant beams of the God of Day, So, when the nectar hath brightened the heart, The shadows of pain and sorrow depart, And all the Blue Devils must wing their flight, When a cork is drawn by the Bottle Sprite. Imp of the Bottle! still gild our hours-- So shall our pathway be strew'd with flowers; Harmony uninterrupted shall reign, And the watchword for pleasure be "Wright's Champagne." And be it our duty as well as delight, To honour the draughts of the Bottle Sprite. "THE RIVALS." [Illustration: "Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; Nothing's so hard but search will find it out." ROBERT HERRICK.] Fond Youths, ah! how shall I decide According to your merit?-- Who shall the Seaman's FLESH deride-- Or who, the Parson's SPIRIT? When the bold Tar proceeds to tell His tale of amorous pain, 'Tis hard that one who pleads so well Should ever plead in vain. And when his suppliant rival sighs, How can I say forbear! Who can resist his piercing eyes, Or scorn a Parson's prayer? Ah! either lover to refuse My virgin heart is loth; And where it is so hard to choose, 'Tis well to cut you both! "LOVE LAUGHS AT LOCKSMITHS." [Illustration: "Hasty marriage seldom proveth well." SHAKESPEARE. "Marriageable foolish wenches are troublesome troops to keep." OLD SAW.] Come to my arms, my blushing maid, Nor heed the padlock's strength; Our love defies the Blacksmith's trade, And I am yours--AT LENGTH! Anon, the padlock we'll remove, From where it lately hung; And, if a scolding wife you prove, I'll clap it on your tongue! OTHELLO. "OTHELLO'S OCCUPATION'S GONE." [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] What, Mungo! laid upon the shelf! You seem in piteous plight, Like your own broom you're stumpt yourself-- Poor Massa Lilywhite! You thrive far better in a shower Than in the sunny shine-- A plague upon the Comet's power, That makes the days so fine! Yet strive your drooping heart to raise, Your sinking soul to cheer; For muddy streets and dirty days Will very soon be here. And when those sloppy hours return, Wealth shall be yours anon; Nor poor Othello longer morn His occupation gone. "HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS." [Illustration] "Fair Nymph of the perspiring brow, Let these vain scruples cease, While on thy rosy lips I now Imprint the kiss of peace. "O! let the ardent sighs you hear, The vows of love I utter, Steal gently on thy willing ear, As smooth as melted butter. "Always spare diet must be wrong-- 'Tis weary, stale, and flat; And having lived on lean so long, 'Tis time I turn to fat." "O vile, unworthy man! forbear-- Such conduct who can brook? Thus to desert thy lady fair, To hug a greasy cook! "I cannot to such wrongs submit, But soon will clear the coast-- Hence, vile Sultans of the Spit! For I will rule the roast. "And never let me see you more, As thus I've caught you tripping-- I didn't know my lord before Had such a love for dripping." [Illustration: THE _DRUNKARD'S PROGRESS_, IN TWELVE STEPS, FROM DESIGNS BY ROBERT SEYMOUR. _Circa 1829._] THE DRUNKARD'S PROGRESS. STEP THE FIRST [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] The March of Intellect implies That men begin to think-- I leave their wisdom to the wise, And sing the March of Drink! Now let us make it our employ The Drunkard's course to scan; And mark the habits in the boy Which ripen in the man: Observe! this hopeful Sprig of Snip's By stealth has seized the gin-- Applies the bottle to his lips, And sucks the poison in. Drink deep, thou liquor-loving brat! Nor spare the cordial drop, While the old folks enjoy their chat, And gossip in the shop. They taught thee first to love the juice, And prove the maxim true, That sauce for gander and for goose Is sauce for gosling too! STEP THE SECOND. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] "My Dear, the morning's cold and raw, And as I cannot stop, Make haste, the daffy bottle draw, And let us have a drop. "Our little boy all fume and fret I can't abide to see-- You and I always loved a wet, And wherefore shouldn't he? "Cut out for drinking he appears, The feeling gives me pleasure; Then never mind his tender years, But give him ample measure." And, Mrs. Snip, wet both his eyes; So shall the lad inherit His mother's thirsty properties, And all his father's spirit! For ways in which a child should go To train him it is fit; And as he grows in years, we know He won't depart from it. STEP THE THIRD. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] White Conduit! in thy alcoves green, While softly sighs the summer gale, How many Nymphs and Swains are seen To sip their tea or swig their ale! And weekly here at Sabbath's close The Hebrew gay ones still resort-- The taudry Belles and Dingy Beaux Their party-colour'd togs to sport. Why should not Snip, our man of measure, With Spouse and Darling wander here? To pass a Sunday eve in pleasure, To blow a cloud and taste the beer! And let young Hopeful have his fill-- His rising spirit why control? "I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill-- It makes the boy so very droll: "Then seize the jug, and do not spare! But be awake, thou man of stitches, Or, by the powers, your hopeful Heir Will spill the liqour on your breeches." The rapid course of time we know; Why waste it then in dry reflection? Another week, no doubt, will show Some farther progress to perfection. STEP THE FOURTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Go on and prosper, knowing lads! In life there's nothing like variety, To see thee makes my spirit glad, In such respectable society. Let every care disperse in smoke, Each anxious thought in beer be drown'd, While you enjoy your game, and smoke-- Top-sawyer of the skittle-ground. "Boy, bring the heavy, for I'm dry, "And scrape a little ginger in it; "And now I'm ready for a shy "At knock 'em down, and bet I'll win it. "How much more pleasant to be here, "With friends to drink a social drop "Of Wyatt's ale, or Barclay's beer, "Than plodding in a humbug shop! "'Twas Dad that taught me first to swill, "(Come pass the pewter pot, and end it), "And, whilst there's money in the till, "The ould un knows that I will spend it." Careers so brilliant why impede? Vain every effort to instruct you! But we shall learn as we proceed, To what these courses must conduct you. STEP THE FIFTH. [Illustration] "Nymph of the Bar, accept my vows, And by that glass of cordial Deady, In me you'll find a faithful spouse For love and liqour always ready. "Let those two worthies have a dram, For, though I'm getting rather mellow, You'll always find me, as I am, A d--d good natured jolly fellow. "Come, keep the chalks all right, old dame, I've got another glass before me-- If I like max, am I to blame? Why daddy did the same before me." "Lauk, sir, you take me by surprise-- But some men have a way so winning-- You guess my wishes by my eyes-- I'm nearly tir'd of liquor spinning. "I cannot bear to answer--No; And as it's cold and sloppy weather, Do let us have, before you go, A drop of Cherry-bounce together." Short be your courtship, worthy pair, With all the happiness you merit; When both such CORDIAL feelings share, No doubt it will proceed with SPIRIT. STEP THE SIXTH. [Illustration] Farewell to courtship's happy hours! Hail to the joys of wedded life-- How soon the sweets have turned to sours! A drunken Husband--scolding Wife. Was it for this fair blooming Maid, This scene of sad, domestic jar, That, by the wiles of man betray'd, You left the tap room and the bar? Why, thou unworthy slave of drink! Thy partner's peace thus plant a dagger in, And hastening to destruction's brink, Steer homeward's nightly drunk and staggering? "You filthy wretch, what! drunk again-- Too soon will poverty assail us; Can't you a single night refrain From tippling in that cursed ale-house? "You little dream, you worthless sot, What mischief o'er your head is brewing, You'll part with everything we've got And bring your wife and child to ruin." "Why that I'm fresh can't be denied, But steady, my good wench, go steady-- For, by that flask you seek to hide, To RUIN you have got already!" STEP THE SEVENTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Old Snip deceas'd, his hopeful heir, To earn an honest bob, Has open'd shop for leather ware, And turned a drunken Snob: "A pair of dancing slippers bring-- Let them be small enough; I wish to have them quite the thing, And let the soles be buff." "Buff soles I haven't in my shop; All that were here are gone; But, Madam, here's a prime buff top-- Do please to try it on." "How dare you treat a Lady so? Begone, you saucy brute! Your conduct all the town shall know-- Try on a fellow's boot!" "Why, Ma'am, you're somewhat out of tune, And rather too particular; I've had a drop this afternoon, And can't stand perpendicular. "You see, Ma'am, I'm a jolly dog-- My throat is always dry; And when I've had my whack of grog, Why, 'damn the shop!' say I." STEP THE EIGHTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Behold our thirsty hero now, To keep the game up always zealous, With all his honours on his brow, And Chairman of the FUNNY FELLOWS. "I humbly move," cries Lawyer Glum, "That all our glasses charg'd may be-- I can't sit any longer dumb-- 'The Chairman's health with three times three.' "We know him for a jovial boy-- Long may he flourish at our mess, And still continue to enjoy Prosperity--Health--Happiness." "Hurra!" cries Ellwide, "here's his health: We'll give the bowl of punch no quarter-- Thro' life, in poverty or wealth, I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar." "While I've a tanner in my till, Or in my purse can sport a bob, I'll vow eternal friendship still, And share my stock with honest Snob." Friendship's a most endearing tie, Unless it comes your cash to borrow, Then all its bright attractions die With "Can't you call again to-morrow?" STEP THE NINTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] EMBARRASSMENT. Would you a Sov'reign's value know-- Let this be quickly done; To some dear friend or neighbour go, And try to borrow one. Now drunkenness has had its day, Snob's ways and means grow taper; But why not friendship's call obey, And draw his pal the draper? "Ellwide, this morning I've dropp'd in-- Our trade is very slack; For that I shouldn't care a pin, But I've a bill come back. "Any loose cash you have to spare, I wish that you would lend; In these dilemmas I'm aware There's nothing like a friend." Cries Ellwide, while his bag of blunt He hides from hapless Snob, "Thro' the whole house if you were to hunt You wouldn't find a bob. "I'm sorry it should happen so, But poverty's no crime; You're always welcome here, you know-- Look in some other time. STEP THE TENTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Oh! many are the ills of life, Past, present, and to come-- Debt, want of cash, a scolding wife, And last, not least, a Bum. Ah! who can tell, but those who know Of poverty the pangs, When, floored by fate, to quod we go, In ruthless Bailiff's fangs? "And must I, then, to prison go, "And leave my wife and cub? "Farewell to larking and to grog-- Farewell my Funny Club. "The sun of jollity has set, "And ruin's day has risen; "Alack a day! that love of wet "Should drive a man to prison." Clean'd out, and down upon your luck, 'Tis needless to complain; And publican and butcher Pluck Present their bills in vain. "Now, blow my carcase, things look queer, "This here's a pretty job; "Two rare long bills for meat and beer-- "You've done us, Master Snob." STEP THE ELEVENTH. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Oh! how delightful is the hour That sets the hapless Debtor free; When, rescued from the Gaoler's power, He breaths the air of liberty! Dejected, pale, and worn with grief, Deserted by each sunshine friend, Where shall poor Snob obtain relief? How shall his prison troubles end? Cheer up thy drooping heart, old boy. And bid thy partner dry her tears; On thee hath dawn'd a day of joy-- A brother and a friend appears. He comes to ope thy prison door, To save thee in the hour of sadness-- Thy fainting spirit to restore, And cheer it with the oil of gladness. With fortune's favours blest again, Thy sky no more is overcast-- From drink and Funny Clubs refrain, And take sad warning by the past. So shall you shun domestic strife, And discord's angry tongue shall cease; And brightly, at the close of life, Your sun shall set in joy and peace. STEP THE LAST. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] Can this poor sinking wretch be he Of Funny Clubs the pride-- The man of cribbage, grog, and glee, Who ne'er his liquor shy'd? Farewell to Mirth? Disease and Death Are staring in his face; And feebly now he draws his breath-- His pulse declines apace. The Doctor gives no hopes, alas! The case admits no doubt, Thou dropsied victim of the glass, Thy glass is nearly out. The star of joy has set in night, And drink has done for Snob; And neighbour Coffin, opposite, Is gaping for a job. Unhappy man! the game is up; Thy moments number'd here; Thy Spouse hath brought the stirrup cup; Departure's hour is near. The Drunkard's progress may be slow-- 'Tis always insecure; And, by experience sad, we know The termination sure. [Illustration: THE PUGILIST'S PROGRESS, IN Nine Steps _ROBERT SEYMOUR._] THE PUGILIST'S PROGRESS. STEP THE FIRST. [Illustration: _Robert Seymour._] And, oh! it is a pleasant thing To mark the dawn of merit, And the progressive march to sing Of true pugnacious spirit. The future Champion first observe, A thriving lusty sprout, Boldly and with unshrinking nerve, Attack his nurse's snout. Truly 'tis early days to bruise; Yet manfully he strives And with effect he seems to use His little bunch of fives. Go it, you hardest, hopeful kid! Bestow another teaser; Those active mawleys why forbid To tap your nurse's sneezer? Go on and prosper in your race-- When childhood's hours are gone, Your after years will ne'er disgrace The promise of their dawn. May milling honours soon be thine-- Soon may you learn to fib; And may your fame in history shine, With that of Spring and Cribb. STEP THE SECOND. [Illustration] Alas! since Cain and Abel's day, I tell it with a sigh, Brothers will cross each other's way, Turn to, and have a shy. Where'er we cast our eyes around, Throughout this vale of tears, Bones of contention will be found To set them by the ears. The bone, as here, may be a taw; With some, estates or wives; Some settle their disputes by law, And others with their fives. 'Tis said, a truly pleasing sight Are brethren that agree; But angry brethren matched to fight Are not so well to see. How fearlessly our milling sprout Again has got to work, And sarving his big brother out, Has fairly drawn his cork. Soon in a higher sphere he'll move, His pluck requires no spur; And none can doubt that he will prove An ugly customer. STEP THE THIRD [Illustration] The force of reason's out of date, I sing the force of fist, Which carries with it such a weight, That nothing can resist. Then idle is the hackneyed chaff About the march of mind; The boxer in his sleeve may laugh-- He leaves that march behind. To bruising fame aspiring still, Why should his ardour cool? Our hero has contrived to mill The Champion of the School. And there in triumph he appears, With victory elate; While his opponent, drown'd in tears, Bemoans his hapless fate. The tribute of our praise receive, For you have earned it now; And victory, ere long shall weave Fresh laurels for your brow. And as we clearly see your bent, Be sure throughout your course, Instead of force of argument, Your argument is force. STEP THE FOURTH. [Illustration] At the true St. Giles's slang, Of eloquence the soul, Few worthies, I believe, can bang The Men of Dust and Coal. Go it, your hardest, Dusty Bob, For once you're not awake; Our Hero soon your precious nob Will spoil, and no mistake! Tho' a mere novice on the town, I'll bet he beats you hollow; Two Coveys are already down-- And 'tother soon must follow. Egad! your topsails must be lower'd, I think you've caught a tartar; What! three to one, and yet be floor'd! My Pinks! what are you after? Pursue, brave youth, your bold career, Victorious o'er each foe; To look at, tho' you're rather queer, You're very good to go. Your sturdy frame and courage high Require a little science-- Then up your Castor you may shy, And bid the Ring defiance. STEP THE FIFTH. [Illustration] As candid dealing is my plan, I mention without blushing, You'll scarcely meet a fighting man That isn't fond of lushing. And whether it is beer or gin, There cannot be a doubt, That when the liquor enters in, Discretion marches out. Our Hero, from a row or spree Always the last to shirk, With a prime Fancy Cove we see Go manfully to work. With all his skill and all his strength, The latter seems distress'd, And, meeting with his match at length, Will come off second best. Then ponder well, you fighting men, Nor at the yokels scoff, Or by a novice, now and then, You may get polished off. Then persevere, my hero tough, Your manly course pursue, For, with a foe, however rough, Your game must bring you through. STEP THE SIXTH [Illustration] Hail to the Ring, for I am one That love the Fancy's freaks, And Fate preserve the fistic fun, From Parsons and from Beaks! For I remember well the time, The golden age of fight, When poor old Dan was in his prime, And Johnson's star was bright: Then, disregarding punishment, How boldly they went in, On victory alone intent, Each did his best to win! Then every British Pugilist, To all foul play averse, Settled a fight by weight of fist, And not by weight of purse. Reviving those good days of old, Our gallant Hero see, An English boxer's fame uphold, And crown'd with victory. So may you in full splendour shine, The Stars of fight among, And may the Champion's belt be thine, And may you wear it long! STEP THE SEVENTH. [Illustration] Hurrah! the Champion's belt is thine, So may it long remain! And when its honours you resign, Restore it free from stain. And still your study let it be To steer a course that's right; As moderate in victory, As resolute in fight. So, when retiring from the Ring, Your milling days shall end, Your praise the Laureate's muse shall sing-- You ne'er shall lack a friend. Let honesty be still your plan, That when your race is run, The cheers of every Fancy man May hail your setting sun. Tho' of the Pugilistic tree You've reached the topmost bough, Fresh honours still in store may be, To crown your conqu'ring brow. O, let no crossing, while you live, Your bright escutcheon dim; And while this sound advice I give, I heave a sigh for Jem. STEP THE EIGHTH [Illustration] Our Hero's fighting race is run, His course of conquest ends, The brightness of his setting sun, Still cheered by all his friends. Far pleasanter to tap his beer, And bid the liquor flow, Than tap, with punishment severe, The claret of a foe. His manly conduct, and his game, Have proudly brought him through; And let all Cross Coves see with shame What honesty will do. Still may prosperity increase; Blest with a blooming rib-- May happiness, content, and peace, Long flourish in his crib. There may the Fancy Lads repair, A friendly bowl to drain-- To puff their sorrows in the air, And bid good humour reign. And let the whining Canter see-- Creature of narrow heart!-- A man a Pugilist may be, Yet act a Briton's part. STEP THE NINTH. [Illustration] Retired from business and the Ring, We bid our gallant friend farewell-- His fame each Fancy Bard shall sing, And Fancy Legends long shall tell. This Silver Cup, brave man, receive-- A tribute to your merit due-- One sigh of deep regret we heave, And kindly say--adieu, adieu! And may the boon we now bestow Be hallowed oft with generous wine; And may the cup of kindness flow To gallant deeds of "auld lang syne." Ye, who aspire to fistic fame, And wish a glorious race to run, Remember Belcher's deathless name, And how Tom Cribb his laurels won! This maxim strongly I impress-- Let honesty your course direct, And, tho' you can't command success, You always may command respect. If to my warning you're awake, Whene'er your milling days may end, A foe thro' life you'll never make, And never will you lose a friend! [Illustration: GALLERY OF COMICALITIES, Embracing humorous SKETCHES BY THE BROTHERS R. AND G. CRUIKSHANK, And others. _Circa 1827-8-9._] THE SQUIRE CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP: OR THE DANGER OF SPRING GUNS. [Illustration] Heaven prosper you, most worthy Squire, And give you strength of nerve To guard your hares from poacher's wire, Your pheasants to preserve. With game laws and spring guns prepare To bring those rogues to shame, Who with unhallowed hand shall dare To meddle with your game; And set a close and constant watch Upon the vile encroachers-- So may your guns or keepers catch The sturdy lawless poachers. What, oh! my Squire, can this be you O'ertaken by mishap! Capsiz'd by retribution due, And caught in your own trap! Ah! fortune plays some curious strokes, And many a cunning elf, Who dug a pit for other folks, Hath tumbled in himself. THE TEMPTATION OF OBADIAH [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] Oh, Damsels! hide those tempting charms! Kindle not thoughts impure! Nor from beloved Rachel's arms Her Obadiah lure! Nay, seek not with enticing words My passions to assail-- Begone ye naughty dickey-birds, For flesh is very frail! I cannot bear thy wanton gaze-- From pinching me abstain-- I must not walk in crooked ways-- Nor go to Elbow Lane. But harsh to thee I will not prove, Stiff Quaker as I am; Truly, I feel my spirit move To treat thee with a dram. To thy petitions I incline, Though I abhor the sin: Say, wilt thou have a glass of wine Or Hodges' cordial gin? For I am fairly in thy power, And hence I cannot flee. Oh, Rachel! in this sinful hour I must not think of thee. THE MAN WOT MENDS THE SOVEREIGN'S WAYS. [Illustration] "The man wot mends the Sovereign's ways"-- What will the satire end in? The world may learn, with some amaze, A Sov'reign's ways want mending. Say, Wellington, can this be you? His Majesty's adviser! Who dares so bold a course pursue-- The King's Macadamiser. To say what next we may expect Would be as weak as vain; STRAIGHT-FORWARD dealing don't expect From lads in CROOKED-LANE. What right have folks to understand The course that you've chalk'd out? Just show the weapon in your hand, And bid them, "Ax about." King Arthur ne'er can do amiss, Then in your schemes be SOLO; And let your motto still be this-- "SIC JUBEO, SIC VOLO." And if the precious Bridge Committee Have in expense been rash, Punish the upstarts of the City-- ABRIDGE them of the cash. THE MAN WOT DRIVES A PAIR OF HACKS. [Illustration: _R. Cruikshank._] A Coach, your Honor?--Vaterman, Open the door, my Covey; To do vot's right is still my plan, And better vip ne'er drove ye. To doubt my honour, what man dare? I'd floor him for his trouble-- Tho' ven I gets a drunken FARE, 'Tis FAIR to charge him double. Then, as to galloping my prads, Paddington ne'er surpass'd me-- Tho' they're a set of knowing lads, Right as a trivet, blaust me! I am a blade that never brags, And loves a cheerful cup; Tho' sometimes Coachee--sometimes nags-- Of course must be PULL'D-UP. Of late, we've suffer'd in our trade-- But grumbling's of no sarvice; These vile infernal Cabs have played The devil with the Jarvies. 'Tis time to wash my gob with beer, Or summat short a dram on-- For vats the use of standing here, And pitching so much gammon. KING BILLY'S BEER BILL; OR, THE THREE B.B.B.'s [Illustration: "I LIKES A DROP OF GOOD BEER."] Come, one and all, both great and small, With voices loud and clear, And let us sing, bless Billy our King, Who 'bated the tax upon beer. _Chorus._--For I likes a drop of good beer, I--do's, I likes a drop of good beer, And ---- his eyes whoever tries, To rob a poor man of his beer. Let minister's shape the duty on Cape, And cause Port wine to be dear, So that they keep the bread and meat cheap, And gives us a drop of good beer.--For I likes, &c. * * * * * Long may King Billy reign, And be to his subjects dear, And wherever he goes we'll wollop his foes, Only give us a skin full of beer.--For we like, &c. SMELLING A RAT. [Illustration] "Here, Nan, you hussy, bring a light, What mean this sword and hat? Something, I'm certain isn't right-- By Heaven's, I smell a rat! "And soon the vile intruder's fate This cudgel shall determine, I'll make it play about his pate, And sacrifice the vermin. "Doubtless, that hat must own a head-- That swords a sign of guilt, And, in the traitress to my bed, I'll plunge it to the hilt. "Well for her swain if, to his side, His sword had still been buckled, In his heart's blood it shall be dy'd For making me a cuckold. "My wrath shall hurl my victims now Down to the realms of Pluto! What! shall vile horns disgrace my brow, And I be dubbed Cornuto?" Ah! why evince, you winning sex, Such naughty inclination? Sure you were only born to vex The Lords of the Creation. CONTEMPT. [Illustration] "Lord bless your Honour, stand a bob, Our's is a dreadful case: In Chancery we've got our nob, And cannot leave the place. "Contempt has brought us, as you see, Into a pretty line-- God bless your honour, set us free, We're tired of Number Nine. "How should a costermonger pay Attorney's bill of fees? We haven't got the blunt to-day, To buy us bread and cheese. "There's hardly one of us that knows Why here he has been lugged in; And with the cold we're nearly froze, Kind-hearted Mr. Sugden." You have the sympathy no doubt, Of General Solicitor; But vain the hope that you'll get out Through your illustrious visitor. Yon luckless dame, in Jailor's claws, Grabbed with a stock of gin, For bold contempt of prison laws Will sooner far get in. BIRDS OF A FEATHER. [Illustration] There's a prime bit of stuff to go, No better, or I'm blow'd-- And narra wehicle I know Can pass us on the road. Kem-arp, my cripple! he's the lad, To whisk along in style, He'll run agin the trotting prad And give him half a mile. Who cares a farden for the veather, Or if vith rain ve're duck'd; Birds of a feather flock together, And some must soon be pluck'd. Good judges may be taken in, And lose their blunt, no doubt; And tho' some say Dutch Sam must vin, Ned Neal may sarve him out. He's at his proper fighting veight-- Heavier nor Sam by far; Tho' Sam's all right, and no debate, And fine as any star. Vell, vin or lose, they'll both do right, 'Twill be a famous mill; I hope no Beak will stop the fight-- Lord save us from a spill. A BEAK. [Illustration] "Pray, Mr. Editor, what is a Beak?" "A Beak," says Jem Bee, in his slang Dictionary, "is the Sitting Magistrate, or one who walks or rides abroad, seeking whom he may quod, or whose lawful (query, UNLAWFUL) amusements he may curtail." Here we have a Portrait of a celebrated Gentleman of this description in the East, together with a couple of his customers, whose colloquy may be instructive: "Jack, twig that ERE swag-bellied Cove, With wisage round and sleek-- You knows him, don't you?"--"Yes, by Jove, Vy, that's a bloated BEAK. "Knows him! I knows him vel enough, And if I don't it's odd: A few months back that damn'd old muff Committed me to quod! "Vat right has he our schemes to check? Vat right--the Devil fish him! Lord send he'd break his precious neck-- That's all the harm I vish him!" DESCENT OF A BEAK: OR FLIGHT OF THE FANCY. [Illustration] Ill-omen'd birds! Is this the way That you enforce the laws, To pounce upon your hapless prey With your unhallowed claws? Your frown the fancy well may dread, The Ring will soon be no go-- Why should you take away the bread Of Oliver and Fogo? To spoil our sport why should you seek, And for fresh victims prowl? By Heaven! I hate a crooked beak, And a "white feather'd" owl. If to all discord you're awake, You need not travel far-- Let your sharp scouts their station take Within the Chancery Bar; For there your Worshipfuls might hear Some orators harangue In terms so virulent and queer That flats would call it slang. And even you the Great Unpaid, Are not _eadem semper_, But on occasions, I'm afraid, Are apt to lose your temper. MY DARLING DUCK. [Illustration] Let those love now who never loved before, Let those who always loved now love the more. O thou, for whom my throbbing heart Beats with unceasing thump, Thou art the smartest of the smart, The plumpest of the plump. Thy breath is fresh as April morn, Blushing in maiden pride, And pearly drops thy brow adorns, Like fat on bacon fried. Fain would I woo thee to my arms, And by this tender chuck, I yield a captive to thy charms, My darling maid--MY DUCK. A SELECT VESTRY IN DEEP DISCUSSION. [Illustration: _R. C._] Ye virtuous and voracious few, I greet ye with respect, And every mark of honour due To worthies so SELECT! Ye Parish Potentates, all hail! Long may your reign endure On richest dainties to regale, Wrung from the starving poor! Keen be your stomachs, honest souls! May plenty crown your board; The means by which you swell your jowls The PARISH can afford. Then be not from your turtle barr'd-- None but a captious sinner Would grudge to men that WORK SO HARD! A LITTLE BIT OF DINNER. Your deeds so worthy of applause, I wish not to expose. Now go and wash your greasy paws In water of the rose. A FLAT BETWEEN TWO SHARPS. [Illustration: _R. C._] Alas, poor Flat! poor Johnny Green! I pity your sad case; Two precious SHARPS you're now between, And they are THOROUGH BASE. Whate'er your cards it matters not, This is no time for grinning; For trust me, friend, you havn't got The slightest CHANCE OF WINNING. Don't fancy you are deep enough, Tho' fool and rogue no doubt; You'll find you were not UP TO SNUFF, When these have cleaned you out. And when you mourn your blunt all gone, This truth will soon be known; That HONOUR they don't count upon-- They win by TRICKS alone. And cards are but the devil's books, Therefore be wise and shut 'em; And when you meet two SHUFFLING rooks, Take my advice and CUT 'em. And ever be upon your guard, Or you'll be taken in; The ACE may be the highest card, But KNAVES are sure to win. HIGH CHURCH AND LOW CHURCH; OR, THE RECTOR AND HIS CURATE. [Illustration: "COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS."] ----"The superiority of some men is merely local. They are great, because their associates are little."--DR. JOHNSON. [Illustration: STEAMERS _v._ STAGES; OR, ANDREW AND HIS SPOUSE. AN AQUATIC EXCURSION BY _STEAM_ AND _BOAT_. Illustrated with Humourous Designs by ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. I want a name--a name to give my tale, For nameless narratives will not be read: Books, by their titles, now succeed or fail; And every _tale_ should have a fitting _head_. List then--the _title_ of my Book shall be, Not _Sir_, nor yet _My Lord_, but an "Aquatic Trip" to a place that borders on the sea, But borders not on aught aristocratic.] ANDREW AND HIS SPOUSE. An Aquatic Excursion by _Steam_ and _Boat_! [Illustration] The hero of my _story_, which is _true_, Was a free-mason of uncommon merits, Who kept the Mason's Arms; and there were few More _spirited_ than he in selling _spirits_. Andrew I wot, for so his name was spelt, Was born (but this perchance you have surmised) In London town:--in Adam Street he dwelt, Which _all_ Eve's sons have not _Mc Adamized_. As scaling--love impell'd, a lofty wall, One luckless night, he fell, in vast alarm; But caught a beam, and haply _broke_ his fall, For which his fall retorting, _broke_ his arm. What chances may befal none may foretell; All are the sport of destiny unknown; Thus Andrew kept the "_Mason's Arms_" full well, But was not able to preserve his _own_. Still he was not discouraged, even although His love had so unluckily began; But taking soon a chance of joy or woe In Hymen's lottery, _Andrew_ drew forth _Ann_. Quiet they lived, and happily, 'tis said, From all domestic strife and discord far; Andrew laid down the _Law_, and Ann obey'd, For he, she knew, was bred up to the _Bar_. [Illustration] Quoth Andrew to his wife one summer's day: "My dear, if you approve, I have a scheme, To take a trip while all the world are gay, To Margate, love, and we can go by _Steam_. My honest cousin John, who is, you know, A quiet kind of lad, and free from sin, Has kindly promised, if we like to go, While we are _out_, to take care of the _Inn_." She liked his project much, but did not know That _steam_ was then the order of the age; She thought they should, like Fanny Kemble, go, Or, like the Elephant, upon the _stage_. Here Andrew differ'd from his quiet spouse, Mild as she was, and gentle as he thought her; Said he "The _steam_ as every one allows, Impels one far more quickly through the _water_." "But if the boiler burst, which much I fear, Then we, and all the rest, in air are blown." Quoth Andrew, "No: if that should hap, my dear; Instead of going _up_ we should go _down_." "Really, my love," said Ann, "with joke and fun You draw such scenes as surely never man drew, And are in fact so _merry_ with your fun, That I should take you for a _Merry Andrew_." [Illustration] Now by the water side--a noted part-- A tavern stands, which men have christen'd "Ship," And hence 'twas needful that our friends should start, The following day, for their intended trip. Therefore, when Sol had risen, so had they For they were early, like the sun, and steady: And when the _Steam-boat came_ beside the quay, Andrew, his luggage, and his wife, were ready. The hour had now arrived, and all was life: The waiter said the _packet_ was _afloat_; The bills were paid, and Andrew and his wife Now left the _Ship_, and hastened to the _boat_. They'd no idea of such a crowd i'fecks! When they embarked, for no one had yet told'em; There were three hundred people on the decks, The cabin and the _hold_ would hardly _hold_'em. The vessel started soon,--her every chink Filled up with luggage, women, boys and men; Swiftly she cut the spray, you cannot think What _whey_ (way) she made upon the water then. Ah, Master Andrew! you could not divine The woe of sailing when the wind's not aft; Or you'd have been more _crafty_, I opine, Than ever to have entered such a _craft_. [Illustration] 'Twas summer, yet the wind was passing cool; The Captain frown'd, and looked exceeding cross; The vessel, like some boys I knew at school, Was playing with the waves at _pitch_ and _toss_. There was a dandy there--you scarce could tell It was a wig he wore; the _beau_ did right To go to Truefit's, for it fitted well, All Truefit's wigs, I'm told, _fit true_ and tight. Two men were arguing, with wooden legs, No doubt each thought the other was mistaken; The cabin boy let fall a plate of _eggs_ And broke them all, although he saved his _bacon_. There were some ladies as it often haps, Both plebeian and patrician--high and low-- And Andrew thought that many set their _caps_ At the young men, in hopes to catch a _beau_. There were some _butcher's_ daughters, wondrous proud Of their sweet persons!--pride I must condemn-- Who once or twice were heard to say aloud, That nothing in the ship was _meet_ for them. Now the good vessel, keeping on her way, Had one effect on Andrew and his wife; Who were, not sick to death, as some would say-- But sick enough to make them sick of life. [Illustration] All this to Andrew and his Spouse, I trow, Was novelty--and yet it had no charms, For both, before the night, were heard to vow They wished they had not left the Mason's Arms. Close to the rails they stood--and you might see Their notions of delight began to waver; When Andrew's wife fell over in the sea, And might have drown'd; but Andrew shouted "Save her!" Perhaps you think he jumped into the water; No, gentle reader, no; that would not do: _You_ might have done so for a wife or daughter, But _you_ are _one_, and _you_ and Andrew, _two_. But some one seeing that he was no lover Of aught save eating, drinking, and his life, Came close behind the man and pushed him over, With "Don't you see, you brute, go save your wife." Just at the time a little vessel passed, (Andrew had caught his wife)--it was the Percy; The captain thought it best to put about, And _take them in_, for they were crying mercy! The _Steam-boat_ kept her way, although the wind was bad, Margate they made, the crew cried "That's your sort!" The band struck up a tune, the rest were glad As tipplers would be, to get at the _Port_. But Andrew and Spouse, just as they were About to sink, and thought that they were undone, Got safe on board the Percy--wind was fair, And the tight little boat, was on its way to London. [Illustration: R. Cruikshank] She soon arrived, of time there was no loss, The sailors rowed them quickly to the land And now, five miles at least from _Charing Cross_, Stood Andrew and his Spouse upon the _Strand_. They hastened home, for home had many charms; Thither they went, and none could well go faster; For Andrew knew full well the Mason's _Arms_ Were always _open_ to receive their master. They'd _seen_ enough of _sea_; and their immersion In the _salt-sea_ wave had pickled them so well, They never made another _sea_ excursion; And therefore _you see_! I've but little more to tell. From that day forth, when Andrew and his wife Disputed, which was often it would seem, His spouse replied, "Remember, pray, my life, That 'tis not always best _to go by Steam_!" My tale is done,--about a week ago When passing through the City, I heard tell That "Andrew and his Spouse" were dead, and so _Bow bell_ was tolling for this _Beau_ and _Belle_. MORAL. Hereafter then, when'er we need advice About a journey to the East or West; We must obey our spouses in a trice, And _always do_ what _they_ imagine best. "BEHIND TIME." [Illustration: "PROCRASTINATION IS THE THIEF OF TIME."] "_Coach, Sir! Lord love your soul, the coach has been gone these three quarters of an hour; it's the most regglarest coach as is, and always starts to a minute!_" "_You dont say so! Lawks! vot a precious row my vife vill kick up! She's a coming arter me as fast as she can trot!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "HARD TIMES." [Illustration: MACADAMITES.] "_I say, SHUFFLETON, these d--d Overseers pay no respect to Persons!_" "_No, DOCTOR, nor to PARSONS either!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "TERM TIME." [Illustration: "THE LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS!"] "_Gentlemen, it was a very fine Oyster, indeed! The Court awards you a shell each!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "TIME COME!" [Illustration: "TIME CALLED."] "_Time! Bring him up, TOM! JACK can't stand another round!_" "_With a hook! I'm blow'd if he ha'nt 'cut his stick!_'" "_A guinea to a shilling on JACK! Time's up! It's all over! JACK'S won the day! I'm blest if we shan't all be lagged!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "TAKING TIME BY THE FORE-LOCK." [Illustration: "LONDON CONVEYANCERS."] "_I say, BILL, I've got his ticker: pull his precious nob off!_" "_I'm sniggered if I don't!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "PUDDING TIME." [Illustration: "A LITTLE TOO LATE."] "_Ha, Snooks, we had given you up altogether!_" "_I thought you said four o'clock, my dear fellow?_" "_So I did, but it is now five._" "_Yes, but four always means five._" "_Not with those who tell the truth, and as I am one of that sort, you will know I mean what I say in future; but sit down 'better late than never.'--Mary bring the fragments._" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "WASTE OF TIME." [Illustration: "LABOUR IN VAIN."] "_Scrub away, Jenny! I'll warrant we get the dirty toad white?_" "_O, Missee! your water so dam hot, you scald poor Sambo!_" "_Drat your black carcase! we'll make something of you at last, if we skin you! Go it, Molly! rub his life time out!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." "CHRISTMAS TIMES." [Illustration: "BOXING DAY!"] "_You arn't the rigglar Dustman, blow ye! For a farden I'd break your blessed conk!_" "_I'm as good a Dustman as you any day in the veek, my tulip!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Time_." THE QUEAN WOT CLAIMS THE BREECHES. [Illustration: _G. C._] The young and old, the short and tall, In poverty or riches; One common aim prevails with all-- 'Tis who shall wear the breeches! This lovely, winning creature scan, To wives a bright example! Mark on the boasted "Rights of Man," How she presumes to trample, Poor Henpeck! what shall shield you now, In fortune's fickle weather, If you surrender to your frow The covering of your nether? Reduced by this ignoble deed, To petticoats' stern sway; To play the tyrant is her creed, And yours is to obey. Farewell, poor fellow--by the bye, To keep her system placid, Suppose you tip her, on the sly, A little prussic acid. A very moderate dose will do, To make her calm and quiet: And, if you wish to tame that shrew, Make haste, my boy, and try it. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_." SUMMARY DIVORCE. [Illustration: _G. C._] Now ponder well, ye tender wives, As you would shun disasters, And as you wish for peaceful lives, Thwart not your lords and masters. If late from home they chance to stop, Avoid all vain conjectures; And, if they've had a little drop, Refrain from curtain lectures. A scolding tongue will ne'er reclaim A man from idle courses; But often leads to grief and shame, And Summary Divorces. These evils flow from angry words-- Then try not such expedients; Besides, you know, you owe your lords Love, honour, and obedience! Ah! tell us, Dame, for what offence Your Spouse, in all his glory, Is using such strong arguments, And "a posteriori." What have you said or done, alas! Or what have you neglected? That thus by speedy habeas, You're forcibly ejected. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_." "BARRING A BAD CUSTOMER; OR, A SCORE BEHIND!" [Illustration] BONIFACE: "_Mizzle, you warmint, you an't paid your old score; No more chalk here!--so take that!_" CHERRY RIPE: "_My eye, what a toucher!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Mornings at Bow Street_." "TAKING THE LAW IN HER OWN HANDS; OR, SERVING AN EJECTMENT ON A TROUBLESOME TENANT." [Illustration] "_Come along, you old willain; I'll teach you to be going arter the wenches; I'll shew you who wears the breeches you--!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_." "THE THIMBLE RIG; OR, HOW TO BONNET A FLAT!" [Illustration] _"Now, then, my jolly Sportsman! I've got more money than the Parson of the parish! Those as don't play can't vin and those as are here arn't there! I'd hould any of you, from a tanner to a soverin, or ten, as you don't tell which thimble the pea is under." "It's there, Sir"--"I barr tellings"--"I'll go it again."--"Vat you don't see don't look at, and what you do see don't tell. I'll hould you a soverin, Sir, that you don't tell me vitch thimble the pea is under."--"Lay him, Sir (in a whisper); it's under the middle'un I'll go you halves."--"Lay him another; that's right."--I'm blow'd but we've lost: who'd a thought it!"--Smack goes the flat's hat over his eyes; exit the confederates with a loud laugh._ GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_." "FLYING DUSTMEN." "The Dustman's cart offends thy clothes and eyes, When through the street a cloud of ashes flies."--GAY. [Illustration: "The Spectre, learning, physic must, All follow these, and come to dust."] _Go it, BOB!--pull away?--here's the TRAPS;--cut away, my kiddy, good luck to you!--Kim aup, Neddy!--kim aup!--blow you, kim aup!--That's the ticket!_ GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_More Mornings at Bow Street_." "THE APPROACH OF CHRISTMAS." [Illustration: "VENERATION--PRIZE BEEF."] "_Well to be sure, that is a picture! I must have a sirloin for Christmas-day. It warms the cockles of one's heart to think of it!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_." "COLOUR!--FORM!--FIGURE!" [Illustration] GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_." "COMBATIVENESS." [Illustration: "BILLINGSGATE."] "_You be smothered, you old Brimstome!--barring I'm a thief, and fond of the men, what can you say to my prejudice?_" "_Get out you wagabond! get out, you circumwenting old fish-fag!_" GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S "_Illustrations of Phrenology_." SYMPTOMS OF DRAWING:-- [Illustration: "A TRUCK--A TOOTH--A BOTTLE OF BLACK STRAP--AND A POT OF HEAVY."] THE LOBSTERS' CLAUSE; OR, THE NEW POLICE BILL. [Illustration: Now, then, Sir, I'll trouble you to move on!] I sing, I sing, of the new bill, sir, That to the people seems a pill, sir, And shortly I'll relate its clauses, That you may know what the police law is. First and foremost, in a straight line running, For fifteen miles it will stop your funning, From Charing Cross, which ever way you turn, sir, If you infringe, your fingers you'll burn, sir. Oh, dear, oh, dear! they're better off in Greece, sir, Free from this Metropolitan New Police, sir. All the people who used to show, sir, Traps on the pavement, will find it no go, sir, And now within their shop or dwelling, Their odd-cum-shorts they must be selling, If maids after eight their mats should beat, sir, At the treadmill they'll have a treat, And, if little boys roll hoops, or fly kites, sir, They'll be lock'd up seven days and nights, sir. Oh, dear, &c. TWELFTH DAY IN LONDON; OR, PAYING FOR A PEEP. [Illustration: R.C.] "TWELFTH DAY." Such are the scenes, that, at the front and the side Of the Twelfth-Cake-Shops, scatter wild dismay; As up the slipp'ry curb, or pavement wide, We seek the pastrycooks, to keep Twelfth day; While ladies stand aghast, in speechless trance, Look round--dare not go back--and yet dare not advance. HONE'S "_Every-Day Book_." BEFORE AND AFTER MARRIAGE; OR, RINGING THE CHANGES. [Illustration] "_Say but the word, my dear Susan, and you're mine for ever; we shall be as happy as the day is long!_" "_Out o' my sight, you villain! I wish I had never seen your ugly mug--you have been the curse of my life!_" AN OSTLER, ALIAS OATSTEALER; OR, A HINT TO TRAVELLERS. [Illustration] TRAVELLER: "_Having made myself comfortable, I must now look to my nag, for these ostlers are sorry dogs._" OSTLER: "_Aye, you may look, old Bald-face; but as you can't tell no tales, why, its better you should go without your feed than I without my pot._" MUSIC HATH CHARMS TO SOOTH THE SAVAGE BREAST. [Illustration] "_I love music, and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy myself--besides its a charity to my sick neighbour: it will soothe him to a gentle slumber!_" "_Oh, dear! oh, dear--was ever poor devil so tortured!--that infernal noise will be the death of me!_" BULLS AND NO JOKES; OR, GALLANTRY ON THE GALLOP. [Illustration] "_Johnny, you wretch! you're not going to leave me here with these 'orned hanimals? For the love you bear me, come back and help me over!"--"I'm blessed if I do!--'number one' is the first law of nature, so here goes! Come along Fowler!_" DR. BOLUS, OR THE LAST PILL. _----Throw physic to the dogs:--I'll none of it._ [Illustration: R C] "_'Twill DO for you, my good friend--it is an infallible remedy for all diseases!_" LONDON IN THE DOG DAYS. [Illustration] "_Hulloa! take care of that ere dog, I'm blow'd if he arn't as mad as a March hare! He's bolted with his mistress's kittle, and I'm splashed if he arn't got the HYDRAPHOBIA, or he wouldn't go past the pump in such a hurry._" PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE! [Illustration] "_Why, I say, Popjoy, ha'nt you had a bite all day?_" "_No._" SEASONABLE AMUSEMENTS; OR, "SPORTING A TOE" ON THE ICE. [Illustration] Sport that wrinkled care derides, And laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe. MILTON'S "_L'Allegro_." PITY THE FROZE OUT GARDENERS. [Illustration: "PITY'S AKIN TO LOVE."] "_Pity the froze out gardeners!_"--"_I will my poor fellows. I'll provide you with a WARM reception when you come to me._" THE COBBLER AND HIS DOXY. [Illustration] A COBBLER I am, and my name is Dick Awl, I'm a bit of a beast, for I live in a _stall_! With an ugly old wife, and a tortoise-shell cat, I _mends_ boots and shoes, with a rat a tat tat. This morning, at breakfast, on bacon and spinage, Says I, to my wife, "I'm going to Greenwich," Says she, "Dickey Awl, aye and I will go too;" Says I, "Mrs. Awl, I'll be d----d if you do." A GREENWICH MUTINEER. [Illustration] [_Taken from life during the Mutiny at Greenwich Hospital on the Birthday of his present Majesty._] "_Shiver my timbers!--here's a go!--no grog on the King's Birthday!--I'm blest if I don't strike!_" ENGLISH BEER. [Illustration: "HEAVY WET."] King William and Reform, I say, In such a case who can be neuter? Just let me blow the froth away, And see how I will drain the pewter. Another tankard, landlord, fill, And let us drink to that ere chap, Broom; And then we'll chaunt God save King Bill, And send the echoes thro' the tap-room. FRENCH BRANDY. [Illustration] Ah ha, Mr. Englishman! voyez ici, De grandest specific to banish ennui, Begar is a bumper of French eau de vie. So here's the Rost Bif of Old England, Wash'd down by the pure Cogniac. IRISH WHISKEY. [Illustration] Och! Judy dear, a fig for beer, The pleasure sure is greater, When you are dry, to bung your eye With quarterns of the "cratur!" JAMAICA RUM. [Illustration] Tho' Whiskey may be priz'd by some, And others sing the praise of Jackey, There's nothing like Jamaica Rum, To warm your dingy frame, Old Blackee. WHAT A SHOCKING BAD HAT. [Illustration] What object meets my wondering gaze, That knew, I doubt not, better days? How chang'd in form, alas! from that-- Oh, "What a shocking bad Hat!" WHAT A SHOCKING BAD BONNET. [Illustration] She is quizz'd by the girls--she is smok'd by the boys-- And her ears are saluted by squalling and noise; While some lad with a tray, and a sheep's head upon it, Shouts out, "There she goes with a shocking bad bonnet!" THE LONG-SONG SELLER. [Illustration] ----"Here ye are my ready money customers; you have 'em here at THREE YARDS A PENNY. First of all:-- Here's "Jolly nose," "Begone dull care," "Black Bess," "What are you at" now? "My mother bids me bind my hair," "How droll!" "All round my hat" now! "Cease, ye pretty warbling choir," "True as is the needle," "And ye shall walk in silk attire," With "The Parish Beadle!" "A dainty life the fairy leads," "When stars their watch are keeping;" "In peace love tunes the shepherd's reed," "Dear maid, while thou art sleeping!" "When night-stars dance their fairy rays," And here my batch I cry out,-- "Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings," "There you go with your eye out!" HOGARTH'S PIEMAN. [Illustration] We frequently meet with the pieman in old prints; and in Hogarth's "March to Finchley," there he stands in the very centre of the crowd, grinning with delight at the adroitness of one robbery, while he is himself the victim of another. We learn from this admirable figure by the greatest painter of English life, that the pieman of the last century perambulated the streets in professional costume; and we gather further, from the burly dimensions of his wares that he kept his trade alive by the laudable practice of giving "a good pennyworth for a penny." Justice compels us to observe that his successors of a later generation have not been very conscientious observers of this maxim. YOUNG LAMBS TO SELL. [Illustration] Young lambs to sell! young lambs to sell. If I'd as much money as I could tell, I'd not come here with young lambs to sell! Dolly and Molly, Richard and Nell, Buy my young lambs, and I'll use you well! The engraving represents an old "London Crier," one William Liston, from a drawing for which he purposely _stood_ in 1826. This "public character" was born in the City of Glasgow. He became a soldier in the waggon-train commanded by Colonel Hamilton, and served under the Duke of York in Holland, where, on the 6th of October, 1799, he lost his right arm and left leg, and his place in the army. His misfortunes thrust distinction upon him. From having been a private in the ranks, where he would have remained undistinguished, he became one of the popular street-characters of his day. BUY A BROOM!--BUY A BROOM! [Illustration] Buy a Broom? was formerly a very popular London-cry, when it was usually rendered thus:--"_Puy a Proom, puy a prooms? a leetle one for ze papy, and a pig vons for ze lady: Puy a Proom?_" Fifty years ago Madame Vestris charmed the town by her singing-- From Teutchland I came with my light wares all laden, To dear happy England in summer's gay bloom, Then listen, fair lady, and young pretty maiden, O buy of the wand'ring Bavarian a broom. Buy a broom, buy a broom, (_Spoken_) buy a broom, O buy of the wand'ring Bavarian a broom. To brush away insects that sometimes annoy you, You'll find them quite handy by night or by day, And what better exercise pray can employ you, Than to sweep all vexatious intruders away.--Buy a broom, &c. Ere winter comes on for sweet home departing, My toils for your favour again I'll resume; And while gratitude's tears in my eye-lids are starting, Bless the time that in England I cried buy a broom. (_Spoken_)--Yes I shall go back to my own country, and tell them there that I sold all my wares in England, singing-- Buy a broom, &c. But time and fashion has _swept_ both the brooms and the girls from our shores.--Madame Vestris lies head-to-head with Charles Mathews in Kensal Green Cemetery. _Tempus omnia revelat._ THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER. [Illustration] "Here you have the last speech and dying vords, life, character, and behaviour of the hunfortunate malefactor that vos hexecuted this morning hopposite the Debtor's door, in the Hold Bailey! together with a full confession of the hoffence vherewith he was found guilty--befor a hupright Judge and a himpartial Jury! Here you have likewise a copy of the most hinfectionate letter, written by the criminal in the condemned cell the night _after_--I mean the night _afore_ his hexecution, to his innocent vife and hunoffending babbies--with a copy of werses consarning the same--all for the small charge of von halfpenny. "Here's tidings sad for owld and young, Of von who liv'd for years by macing; And vos this werry morning hung, The Debtor's Door at Newgate facing. "Here's his confession upon hoath, The vords he spoke ven he vos dying, His birth and eddycation both-- The whole pertic'lers--vell vorth the buying. "Here's an account of robberies sad, In vich he alus vos a hactor; You must to read the life be glad-- Of such a famous malefactor!" THE HEARTH-STONE MERCHANT. [Illustration] "Hearth-stones! Do you want any hearth-stones? Now, my maids, here's your right sort--reg'lar good'uns, and no mistake--vorth two o'your shop harticles, and at half the price. Now my pretty von, lay out a _tanner_, and charge your missus a _bob_--and no cheating neither! the cook has always a right to make her market penny and to assist a poor cove like me in the bargain. "They're good uns, you will find-- Choose any, Marm, as you prefer; You looks so handsome and so kind, I'm sure you'll be a customer. "Three halfpence, Marm, for this here pair-- I only vish as you vould try 'em; I'm sure you'll say the price is fair-- Come, Marm, a penny if you'll buy 'em. "There, Betty! I have often said It isn't dress that makes gentility; For do observe this hearth-stone blade, How well he understands ciwility." THE LONDON BARROW-WOMAN. [Illustration] Round and sound, Two-pence a pound. Cherries, rare ripe cherries! Cherries a ha'penny a stick Come and pick! come and pick! Cherries big as plums! who comes, who comes? The late George Cruikshank, whose pencil was ever distinguished by power of decision in every character he sketched, and whose close observation of passing men and manners was unrivalled by any artist of his day, contributed the "London Barrow-woman" to the pages of Hone's _Every-Day Book_ in 1826 from his own recollection of her. THE LADY AS CRIES CATS' MEAT. [Illustration] Old Maids your custom I invites, Fork out, and don't be shabby, And don't begrudge a bit of lights Or liver for your Tabby. Hark! how the Pussies make a rout-- To buy you can't refuse; So may you never be without The _music_ of their _mews_. Here's famous meat--all lean, no fat-- No better in Great Britain; Come, buy a penn'orth for your Cat-- A happ'orth for your Kitten. Come all my barrow for a bob! Some charity diskiver; For faith, it ar'nt an easy job To _live_ by selling _liver_. Who'll buy? who'll buy of Cats-meat-Nan! I've bawl'd till I am sick; But ready money is my plan; I never gives no tick. I've got no customers as yet-- In wain is my appeal-- And not to buy a single bit Is werry ungenteel! THE DOGS'-MEAT MAN. _Founded on Fact._ [Illustration] In Gray's Inn Lane, not long ago, An old maid lived a life of woe; She was fifty-three, and her face like tan, And she fell in love with a dogs'-meat man. Much she loved this dogs'-meat man; He was a good-looking dogs'-meat man; Her roses and lilies were turn'd to tan, When she fell in love wi' the dogs'-meat man. Every morning when he went by, Whether the weather was wet or dry, And right opposite her door he'd stand, And cry "dogs' meat," did this dogs'-meat man. Then her cat would run out to the dogs'-meat man, And rub against the barrow of the dogs'-meat man, As right opposite to her door he'd stand, And cry "Dogs' Meat," did this dogs'-meat man. One morn she kept him at the door, Talking half-an-hour or more; For, you must know, that was her plan, To have a good look at the dogs'-meat man. "Times are hard," says the dogs'-meat man; "Folks get in my debt," says the dogs'-meat man; Then he took up his barrow, and away he ran, And cried "Dogs' Meat," did this dogs'-meat man. GUY FAWKES--GUY. [Illustration] There cannot be a better representation of "Guy Fawkes," as he was borne about the metropolis in effigy in the days "When George the Third was King," than the above sketch by George Cruikshank. Please to remember the fifth of November, Gunpowder treason and plot; We know no reason, why gunpowder treason, Should ever be forgot! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza--a--a! A stick and a stake, for King George's sake, A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes' rump! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza--a--a! THE PIEMAN; OR, O LORD! WHAT A PLACE IS A CAMP. [Illustration] "O Lord! what a place is a camp, What wonderful doings are there; The people are all on the tramp, To me it looks devilish queer: Here's ladies a swigging of gin, A crop of macaronies likewise: And I, with my 'Who'll up and win? Come, here is your hot mutton pies.' "Here's galloping this way and that, With, 'Madam, stand out of the way;' Here's, 'O fie! sir, what would you be at?-- Come, none of your impudence pray:' Here's 'Halt--to the right-about-face,' Here's laughing, and screaming, and cries: Here's milliners'-men out of place, And I with my hot mutton pies. "Here's the heath all round like a fair, Here's butlers, and sutlers, and cooks; Here's popping away in the air, And captains with terrible looks: Here's 'How do you do?'--'Pretty well; The dust has got into my eyes,' There's--'fellow what have you to sell?' 'Why, only some hot mutton pies?'" ALL ROUND MY HAT I VEARS A GREEN VILLOW. [Illustration] All round my hat I vears a green villow, All round my hat, for a twelvemonth and a day; If any body axes me the reason vy I vears it, I tells 'em that my own true love is far far away. 'Twas a going of my rounds, in the streets I first did meet her, Oh, I thought she vos a hangel just come down from the sky; (_Spoken_)--She's a nice wegitable countenance; turnup nose, redish cheeks, and carroty hair. And I never knew a voice more louder or more sweeter, When she cried, buy my primroses, my primroses come buy. (_Spoken_)--Here's your fine cauliflowers. All round, &c. O, my love she was fair, my love she was kind, too, And cruel vos the cruel judge vot had my love to try: (_Spoken_)--Here's your precious turnups. For thieving vos a thing she never was inclined to: But he sent my love across the seas, far far away. (_Spoken_)--Here's your hard-hearted cabbages. All round, &c. SONG OF THE STEAM COACHMAN THAT DRIVES THE OMNIBUS TO THE MOON. Steam carriages by land are now the order of the day, sir, But why they haven't started yet, 'tis not for me to say, sir; Some people hint 'tis _uphill_ work--that loose they find a screw, sir, Such novelties, as Pat would say, of _old_ they never _knew_, sir. Bow, wow, &c. [Illustration] Now is the time for a sly trip to _the Moon_, sir, There's a new RAIL ROAD just made through _the Sky_, Or if you prefer it, we have a _prime_ BALLOON, sir, In which you can ascend with me _up sky high_. Travelling the rage is--in the tying of a sandal, We take our _tea_ in _Tartary_, or _chop_ at _Coromandel_, Then when _blazing hot_ we get with _India's gums_ and _spices_, We take a _stroll_ towards the _Pole_, and _cool our-selves with ices_. Now is the time for a sly trip to _the Moon_, sir, &c. LIFE IN THE BACK SLUMS OF THE HOLY LAND. [Illustration: R.C.] There's a difference between a beggar and a queen, And the reason I'll tell you why; A queen cannot swagger, nor get drunk like a beggar. Nor be half so happy as I,--as I. "DINNER TIME; OR, HOW TO COMFORT THE INWARD MAN." [Illustration: Appetite comes with eating, says Angeston.--RABELAIS, bk. 1., ch. v.] HUSBAND: _Now then, Old Gal; cook us about another pound and a half of our home made bacon, and, then I do think I shall 'ave done for this once._ WIFE: _Yes! Tom, but recollect that Parson said on Sunday last, that poor folks, since the 'provements of cookery eat about twice as much as nature requires._ HUSBAND: _Well! then we can't do no better than practice what Parson preaches about, can we?_ ADELPHI THEATRE. [Illustration] BILLY WATERS. SIGR. PAOLO'S, Night. BOX QUEEN CAROLINE AND THE TEMPTER. [Illustration] And so they sent a MESSENGER, To meet the Queen halfway; And give her FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS If she abroad would stay; And never more be call'd a Queen, Or any such a thing, But leave them with their daintv dish To set before the King. From a _brochure_ entitled the "GREEN BAG: or, a Dainty Dish to set before a King." Published by Hone, and illustrated by Geo. Cruikshank. [Illustration] A DROP OF GIN! [Illustration: GIN AND WATER.] Gin! Gin! a Drop of Gin! What magnified Monsters circle therein! Ragged, and stained, with filth and mud, Some plague-spotted, and some with blood! Shapes of Misery, Shame, and Sin! Figures that make us loathe and tremble, Creatures scarce human, that more resemble Broods of diabolical kin, Ghoule and Vampyre, Demon and Jin! [Illustration] GIN, GIN, SWEET, SWEET GIN! AIR.--_Home, Sweet Home._ Walk through London town, in Alley, Lane or Street, Eight to ten of all the folks you overtake or meet, List to what they talk about, you'll find amid the din, The end of every conversation is a drop of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. [Illustration] When the world was young, as we read in classic page, The shepherds drank the purling stream, and pass'd the golden age; For purling streams or golden age folks now don't care a pin, So that they can raise the brass to keep this age of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin, Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin. [Illustration] When the weather's cold and bleak--in rain and frost and snow, The Gin, the Gin they fly to, to warm them with its glow. In summer time, to cool their heat, we see them all flock in, And joy or sorrow, heat or cold, all seek relief in Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin. Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin. Sir Richard Birnie sad, declares that never in his time, Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime; And all the brawls--the riotings--the day and nightly din, Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin! Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin. Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin. [Illustration] In India, when a Husband dies--the Widow ne'er can smile, She's burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband's pile; In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin, To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin. Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin. [Illustration] Decrepit age with furrow'd face, and one foot in the grave, Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave; Infants, e'er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby d'ont a d'op o' din. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin. Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin. [Illustration] In former times we'd Goblins, Fairies, Witches, Ghosts and Sprites, Who ruled the people's minds by day, and play'd sad pranks o' nights; But now the tales of Ghosts and such the people can't take in They won't believe in Spirits, yet put all their faith in Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin. Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin. [Illustration] In the Reign of old Queen Bess good eating did prevail, Her Majesty and all the Court would breakfast on strong ale; But now through every Court, the folk the fashion to be in, Would _ail_ all day, unless 'fore breakfast they could take some Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, renovating Gin. Gin, Gin, renovating Gin. [Illustration] Old women used to cheer their hearts and found it did agree, By sometimes taking with a friend a cup _too_ much of tea; But now they're much more _spirited_--for tea don't care a pin, And only use their tea pots for a cup _too much_ of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin. Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin. Fighters take a "_a shove in the mouth_," though it is their bane, Jack Ketch often has a "_drop_"--Scavengers a "_drain_"; Pris'ners "_half a yard of tape_" to get in merry pin, And Actors oft get "_mellow_" with a "_mellow dram_" of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin. Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin. [Illustration] Thompson's shop on Holborn Hill is crowded like a fair, All the taps continually running out are there; Swing swang go the doors, while some pop out and some pop in, Foreigners must surely think that John Bull lives on Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin. Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin. [Illustration] This World was once deluged by water, drowning Son & Sire, But when it is destroy'd again, we read 'twill be by fire; And this must be the awful time, so prevalent is sin, As all the wicked world do burn their insides out with Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin. Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin. IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULDN'T GO. [Illustration] THE ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS was instituted in 1824. Through its exertions hundreds of cases of cruelty are annually prosecuted. Acts for the protection of animals were passed in 1822 "Martin's Act," and in 1835 and 1839. If I had a donkey wot wouldn't go, D'ye think I'd wollop him?--no, no, no. But gentle means I'd try, d'ye see, Because I hate all cruelty; If all had been like me, in fact, There'd ha' been no occasion for Martin's act, Dumb animals to prevent getting cracked--on the head. For if I had a donkey wot wouldn't go, I never would wollop him--no, no, no; I'd give him some hay, and cry, Gee O! And come up, Neddy--Heigh Oh! What makes me mention this? This morn-- I seed that cruel chap, Bill Burn, Whilst he was out a crying his greens, His donkey wollop with all his means, He hit him o'er his head and thighs, He brought the tears up in his eyes, At last my blood began to rise-- And I said--If I had a donkey, &c. Bill turn'd and said to me--"Then, perhaps, You're one of these Mr. Martin's chaps Wot now is seeking for occasion-- All for to lie a hinformation." Though this I stoutly did deny, Bill up and gave me a blow in the eye, And I replied as I let fly-- At his head--If I had a donkey, &c. THE LAST NIGHT OF THE SEASON. IT'S CHARLEY WRIGHT'S NIGHT. Let those come now who never came before, Let those who always come, now come once more. [Illustration] COME TO NIGHT THERE'LL BE.-- "Midnight shout and revelry Tipsy dance and jollity." MASQUERADE (Patronised by the Haut-Ton). the LAST THIS SEASON.--ARGYLL ROOMS, THURSDAY NEXT, June 28.--For Boxes to view the Masquerade (without mixing in the motley group), Domino, Character, and other Tickets, &c., apply to the Committee, at Mr. Charles Wright's, Opera Colonnade, Haymarket, who will supply the Wines on the occasion. Come, come; good WINE is a good familiar creature, if it be well used. [Illustration] GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH:-- TRY IT! Fine Port and bright Sherry, well worthy of name, Two Shillings per Bottle; Madeira the same; Good Cape, Fifteen-pence; and the marvel to crown, Champagne, Five and Sixpence, the cheapest in Town. Opera Colonnade. CHARLES WRIGHT. ----"Friends! I say that one sip of this: Will bathe the drooping Spirits in delight Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste." Charley Wright _cum_ John Milton! [Illustration: CHARLES WRIGHT'S Apparition appearing to an Hypochondriac. By CHARLES WRIGHT, Opera Colonnade, Haymarket, LONDON.] WINE DEPOTS JUST OPENED. No. 13, Northumberland-place, Commercial-road. 6, Providence-place, Kentish Town. 48, Chichester-place, Gray's-inn-lane. 4, Milner-place, Lambeth, near the Coburg Theatre. 1, Darlington-place, opposite Vauxhall Gardens. 65, Crawford-street, Mary-la-bonne. 4, Sussex-place, Kent-road. 13, St. James-street, Brighton. A VIEW IN THE ISLE OF ANGLESEA. [Illustration] The above sketch was taken from nature in the Isle of Anglesea last Autumn, from a spot not far from the seat of the Noble Marquess, who derives his title from the Island. It presents an excellent profile of the Marquess, and has often excited the attention and surprise of the passing travellers. At a moment when his Lordship is so deservedly popular the publication of this curiosity may not be unacceptable to our readers. SAM WELLER'S ADVENTURES! A SONG OF THE PICKWICKIANS. Who caus'd the smiles of rich and poor? Who made a hit so slow, but sure? And rose the worth of literature?--Sam Weller. [Illustration] I'm pretty well known about town, For to gain a repute is my pride, Though no vun can doubt my renown, I'm a _covey of polish_ beside! I renovates _cases_ for feet, Vhether high lows or tops is the same, I turns'em off hand werry neat, And Samivel Veller's my name!--Fol lol, &c. In the Borough my trade I dragged on, Vith no vun to envy my sphere; I polish'd the _soles_ of each don, From the cadger bang up to the peer! Their _understandings_ I greatly improv'd, Vot happen'd to fall in the vay; And many a gen'leman mov'd To me in the course of the day.--Fol lol, &c. Vun gen'leman--Pickvick, Esquire, The head of the noted P.C. Vun day tumbled in to enquire, If I'd had the _fortin_ to see A cove vearing Vellington _kicks_, And a Miss Rachel Vardle beside, Vot the gent had lugged off by the _nicks_, And promis'd to make her his bride.--Fol lol, &c. ALL ROUND THE ROOM. [Illustration] All round the room I waltzed with Ellen Taylor, All round the room I waltz'd till break of day, And ever since that time I've done nothing but bewail her, Alas! she's gone to Margate, the summer months to stay. 'Twas at a ball at Islington I first chanc'd to meet her, She really look'd so nice I couldn't keep my eyes away; In all my life before I ne'er saw so sweet a creature, She danc'd with me three hours, then fainted quite away. _Spoken._--She was such a divine creature! I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. I looked languishing at her, and she did the same at me; then she gave such a sigh--such a heavy one!--you might have heard it!---- All round the room, &c. My Ellen's rather tall, and my Ellen's rather thin, too, Her hair is rather sandy, and at singing she's _au fait_, That she should leave me now I think it quite a sin, too, I'm sure I shan't be happy all the time she is away. _Spoken._--She was an angel! such a natural sort of woman! She wore a bustle--that wasn't very natural, though--it was rather a largish one; I suppose, upon a moderate calculation, it would have reached---- All round the room, &c. JIM CROW. [Illustration] How are you massa gemmen, An de ladies in a row, All for to tell you whar I'm from, I'se going for to go! For I wheel about an turn about, an do just so, An ebery time I turn about, I jump Jim Crow. In 1836, Mr. T. D. Rice, who had previously appeared at the Surrey Theatre, in "Bone Squash Diablo," made his first appearance at the Adelphi, in a farcical Burletta, called "A Flight to America; or, Twelve Hours in New York". The sketch, written for him by Mr. Leman Rede, introduced Rice as a nigger, Yates as a Frenchman, and Mrs. Stirling as Sally Snow--a coloured belle, Miss Daly, John Reeve, and Buckstone strengthened the cast. "Jump Jim Crow" caught the fancy of the town at once, and the familiar tune was soon to be heard everywhere. Rice stayed through the whole season, playing an engagement of twenty one weeks, then considered something extraordinary. For a long period he performed at the Adelphi and the Pavilion Theatres the same evening, and it was calculated that in so doing he had travelled considerably more than a thousand miles, while being encored five times at each theatre for 126 nights, it was easy to set down the figure of 1,260 as representing the number of times he had sung "Jim Crow," during that period. Rice cleared by this engagement eleven hundred pounds. A street-ballad of the day informed the public that it could have:-- The Jim Crow rum, the Jim Crow gin, The Jim Crow needle, and the Jim Crow pin; The Jim Crow coat, the Jim Crow cigar; The Jim Crow dad, and the Jim Crow ma'; The Jim Crow pipe, the Jim Crow hat. The Jim Crow this, and the Jim Crow that. [Illustration] JIM CROW. As sung by Mr. T. D. Rice, with tumultuous applause. I came from ole Kentucky--A long time ago, Where I first learn to wheel about--An jump Jim Crow. Wheel about, &c. I use to take de fiddle--Ebery morn and arternoon, And charm de old buzzard--And dance to de racoon. Wheel about, &c. In hoeing ob de sugar--Or picking cotton, all de same, I beat de oder niggers--And gib dem twenty in de game. Wheel about, &c. At last I went to seek my fortune--Got up by break of day, Left my ole shoes behind me--And den I run away. Wheel about, &c. I come to a riber--Which I couldn't get across, So I gib a couple ob shillings--For an old blind horse. Wheel about, &c. When I got upon the oder side--I drove him up a hill, Oh, but de oder side--Look rather daffakil. Wheel about, &c. Den I jump on board de big ship--And cum across de sea, And landed on Old England--Where de nigger am free. Wheel about, &c. There were a hundred-and-one versions of "Jim Crow," fresh stanzas being added from day to day on the passing events, for the most part written by Leman Rede, and Buckstone, the _honorarium_ offered by Rice being one shilling per line. We select the above from the first version as sung at the Surrey Theatre. JIM ALONG JOSEY. [Illustration] Oh, I'se from Lusiana, as you must all know, Dar's where Jim along Josey's all de go-- Dem nigger all rise when de bell does ring, And dis am de song dat dey do sing. Hey get along, get along Josey, Hey get along, Jim along Joe-- Hey get along, get along Joe. Hey get along, Jim along Joe. Once old Jim Crow was dare all de go, 'Till he found him rival in Jim along Joe; Now poor old Jim, dey hab put him to bed, And Jim along Josey hab come in him stead. Hey get along, &c. Oh, when I get dat new coat I expects to hab soon, Likewise de new pair tight knee'd Trousaloon; I'll walk up and down Bond Street wid my Susanna, And in my mout I smoke de real Habannah. Hey get along, &c. My sissa Rosa de oder night did dream, Dat she was a floating up and down de stream, And when she woke she did begin to cry, "O! de white cat pick'd out de black cat's eye," Hey get along, &c. DANDY JIM, FROM CAROLINE. [Illustration] I've often heard it said ob late, Dat Souf Carolina was de state, Whar a handsome nigga's bound to shine, Like Dandy Jim, from Caroline. For my ole massa tole me so, I was de best looking nigga in de country, O, I look in de glass an found 'twas so, Just what massa tole me, O. I drest myself from top to toe, And down to Dinah I did go, Wid pantaloons strapped down behine, Like Dandy Jim, from Caroline. For my ole massa, &c. De bull dog cleared me out ob de yard, I tought I'd better leabe my card, I tied it fast to a piece ob twine, Signed "Dandy Jim, from Caroline." For my ole massa, &c. "MONKEYANA." [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FIRST. We pray you, reader, to inspect "The March of Gaming Intellect;" Well Worthy of the observation Of a pure rising generation. Of gaming PUPPYS nothing new, Why should not MONKEYS gamble too; And, throwing off all moral fetters. In vicious courses APE their betters? This hopeful sprig, despising rule, Creeps not like Shakspeare's boy to school With learning stores his brain to hack, The satchel dangling at his back; More pleasant pastime having found, See slate and satchel on the ground; While pug proposes with knowing eye, With Soot, the Sweep, to have a SHY. Do mark his attitude so knowing, "Woman or skull?--the copper's going." Prime Boy! before you cease your fun, I GUESS you'll be completely DONE; This morning's prank you'll surely rue, In loss of slate and satchel too, Which, proof against all fear of LAGGING, YOUNG SOOT is from its owner dragging. BRUSH quickly with your prize, Young Grim, 'Twill be no heavy loss to him-- His course of study from this day Will be a very different way. [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SECOND. Seated in LUSH CRIB, spruce and smug, Go on and prosper, worthy PUG! Tho' long past midnight, who's afraid? Time, we all know, for slaves was made. What lad of spirit, or discerning, Would waste the weary hour in learning, And not each dryer study cut, To play a social game at Put? And wrangle about CHALKS and LEGS, All Fours and Cribbage, HOLES and PEGS-- Pastimes of such resistless Power, To cheer and charm the passing hour! How oft we find in this fair Land, Folly and vice go hand-in-hand. Pug, let me whisper in your ear, You'll buy experience very dear: In trick, a scholar, apt and willing, You'll soon be stript of every shilling! Your adversary knows you're GREEN. And has a friend behind the scene; Who takes good care he never loses, By furnishing what card he chooses. Play high, play low, 'tis all in vain. You'll certainly be DONE again! And mourn, ere long, Misfortune's gripe, In loss of grog, and cash, and WIPE-- The last of which, by dex'trous pawing, A Pot-boy Pug is gently drawing; While you, intent upon your game, Are all unconscious of the same. [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE THIRD. Fresh from the Lush-crib--roaring, staggering, Clipping King's English, swearing and swaggering-- Attended by his faithful Mentor, See Pug all ripe for an adventure. Already he is holding parley, Or rather chaffing with a "Charley--" Who, Tom and Jerry deeds reproving, Cries, "Gentlemen, push on! keep moving!" Ever prepar'd to spring his rattle-- The trumpet of the watchman's battle. See Mentor, bent on mischief, smirking, On Pug's excited feelings working. "Why does that 'Charley' make a fuss, Insulting gentlemen like us, Thinking to carry all before him-- Tip it him on the nob, and floor him! Two or three well-plac'd blows, no doubt, Will serve the saucy rascal out; And never fear that he can whack ye-- Why, damme, an't I here to back ye--?" Watchmen, we know, are oft loquacious, And PUGS, by nature, are PUGnacious. Sure as our Pug begins the fray, His backing friend will sneak away, Leaving him, as the safest plan, To fight his battle as he can. What ills on luckless Pug await: Black eyes, bruis'd body, broken pate-- And, cursing his unlucky plight, Consign'd to Watchhouse for the night! [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FOURTH. O, for a Fogo's Muse to sing The glories of the Boxing Ring-- Where Peer and Prig, and Sweep and Swell, Mix in the motley group pell-mell: A scene of frolic, row, and danger, Where honesty is oft a stranger; For doubtful are the chances now Of triumph to the best man's brow. With equal grief and shame we tell it, 'Tis "How much do ye ax to sell it?" O, for the fighting days of old, When men were neither bought nor sold; When victory was the aim alone, And fighting crosses all unknown. Amid the rabble monkey crew, See PUG, our hero, full in view-- His brain with bruising science stored, Up to each move upon the board; How fluently he prates of flooring, Tapping the claret, fibbing, boring-- Of Chancery-suits and body-battering. Ogles sew'd up, and ivories chattering. Eager to bet--a Sharper now Has got our hopeful Sprig in tow-- Though Mentor, to his pupil true, Hints pretty plainly its a DO. "I'll book my man to win for sartin-- Come, three to one on Bill, at starting?" Though Bill is certainly the strongest, Perhaps Jack's wind may last the longest. [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FIFTH. Hurrah for Epsom! Mount your prads, And start away, like knowing lads, To join the swarms of smiling faces That throng delighted to the races. O, what a scene of joy and jolity, Of prancing, capering, and frivolity! Where many a swell whose means are scanty, Bestrides his batter'd Rosinante-- Which, proud of such illustrious backers, Hails a short respite from the knackers. Go it! my heroes! man or monkey Mounted on blood, or hack, or donkey. Know many a youth, of spirit gay, Shall rue the racing of this day, And, mourning loss of cash and leather, Curse Oaks and Derby Stakes together. Where all the springs of fashion gay, Can Master Pug be absent? No. Still under Mentor's kind protection, He presses forward to perfection-- With the top Coves can prate with spirit Of all their racers and their merit; Their action, colour, age, and bottom, Where they were foal'd, and who begot'em: Can bet and hedge, make sure to win, And take a well fled'g GREENHORN in. Mentor, at distance, takes his seat, Intently gazing on the heat; Intending wisely, if he can, To line his purse, and fleece his man. [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SIXTH. Where are the Dashers of the Land Who throng'd the Race Course "four-in-hand?" The splendid trappings--bang-up team-- Have all departed like a dream, And Britzska, Landau, One-horse Shay, Are now the order of the day. See the EILWAGEN skims along, The wonder of a gazing throng, Who hail the Royal importation, A luxury to a lazy nation!-- Here on a sofa you may share Sweet converse with a favourite fair, Or snugly when it suits the whim, Sloth may stretch out the lazy limb-- The curtains of the carriage close, And sink delighted to repose-- For such enjoyment thanks are due, O, Princely Cumberland! to you. Long may you rest your noble head On this transcendent Carriage-bed! But to our Hero--Pug, the Swell, Has done the flats at Epsom well; And as you see, in tip-toe twig, Now sports his lady and his gig; No guardian Mentor now is near To breathe sage counsel in his ear; For when a Lady's in the case Each Mentor's presence must give place. In truth he needs no aid of friend To prompt him now his gains to spend. [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SEVENTH. Ah Pug! tho' fortune now has smil'd, And mark'd you for a favourite child, Too many, by those smiles betray'd; Have prov'd her but a fickle jade; And like the meteor of the night, Misleading with a treacherous light. Irksome the task to trace in verse The Gamester's course from bad to worse: That course of vice may long endure, But still the termination's sure. What is the upshot of the game? Ruin--remorse--disgrace--and shame. Behold our Hero--mark him well, The inmate of a modern Hell; Where Croupier every snare hath set, To catch all fish that come to net; Tho' of the tribes that sink or swim, The GOLD and SILVER Fish for him. Now Pug, call Fortune to your aid, The colour's black--the Game is made; Trente-un--Red wins--a hardish smack! You laid that hundred, Pug, on black; Don't let that trifle give you trouble, Try Black once more, and put down double. Red wins again--Ah sound of dread! Well now you'll have a run on Red; Then change the colour if you will-- But doom'd to be unlucky still, You'll persevere with store diminish'd, Till YOUR OWN GAME at length is finish'd; [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE EIGHTH. 'Tis even so--the die is cast, And, Pug! your golden dreams have pass'd-- Well may you mourn the luckless hour You plac'd yourself in Mentor's power-- The knowing practices he taught you; To a bad winding-up have brought you, Stripp'd of your gains, you now, too late, Distracted, curse your bitter fate, And gnash your teeth, and grasp your hair, In all the raving of despair. How shall such anguish be appeas'd? How can we heal a mind diseas'd? Is there no source of comfort? None. No friend to soothe your mind? Not one. Mentor, of course, has little claim To be distinguished by the name; Who with unruffled phyz is viewing His pupil's rage and utter ruin; Eyes him with self-complacent shrug, And thus addresses hapless Pug:-- "This is a devilish fine cigar-- Why, what a shocking judge you are! I never knew you play so bad-- I thought you were not TO BE HAD; 'Tis strange, indeed, it never struck ye, When you play high, you're never lucky. Besides, you play'd too long on Red; Didn't you see me shake my head? The money was your own, no doubt, And handsomely they've cleaned you out." [Illustration] THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE NINTH. "Last scene of all, "That ends this strange eventful story." The Gaming Race at length is run And darkness shrouds the evening sun; Reproach, Remorse, are now in vain-- That sun may never rise again! Now poverty, distress, disgrace, Stare ghastly in the victim's face: The heartless shrug, the cut direct, And bitter scorn and cold neglect?-- Those glittering hopes so fondly cherished, In one ill-omen'd night have perish'd. And Fate, in midnight's deepest gloom, Have veil'd our wretched Hero's doom-- While Suicide is hovering near, To put her seal on Pug's career.-- Stay thy rash hand! ere to that hour From which no Traveller can return. All stain'd with sin, unfit to die, Unsummon'd you presume to fly!-- The tube is rais'd, the die is cast-- Another moment is the last. But, ere the awful scene is clos'd, A guardian hand hath interpos'd; And in this time of utmost need, See Mentor rush to stay the deed, And eagerly his arm extend To snatch from death his wretched friend, Mentor, this act shall well atone For many an error of thine own. [Illustration: LONDON:-- E. A. BECKETT, PRINTER, 111 & 113, KINGSLAND ROAD.] =_Works by Mr. CHARLES HINDLEY_,= TO BE HAD OF =Messrs. Reeves and Turner,= 196, Strand, London, W.C., AND OF =Charles Hindley, the Younger=. 41, Booksellers' Row, St. Clement Danes, Strand, London, W.C. =THE OLD BOOK COLLECTORS MISCELLANY;= or, a Collection of Readable Reprints of Literary Rarities. 3 vols. £1 11s. 6d. =SELECTION OF THE WORKS OF JOHN TAYLOR,= _The Water Poet_. £1 1s. 0d. =THE ROXBURGHE BALLADS.= 2 vols. £1 5s. 0d. =CURIOSITIES OF STREET LITERATURE:= comprising "=Cocks=" or "=Catch-pennies=." A large and curious assortment of Street-Drolleries, Squibs, Comic Tales, Dying-Speeches, and Confessions, etc., etc. £1 1s. 0d. =LIFE AND TIMES OF JAMES CATNACH,= _late of the Seven Dials, Ballad Monger_. Cuts by Bewick and others. 12s. 6d. =A HISTORY OF THE CRIES OF LONDON.= Ancient and Modern: containing over three hundred woodcuts, of which seventy are by Bewick. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. Postage 6d. =THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS.= At Berwick-upon-Tweed, Alnwick, and Newcastle upon-Tyne, in Northumberland; and Seven Dials, London. Cuts by Bewick, etc. Crown 8vo. 6s. Postage 6d. +----------------------------------------------------------------- + | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. | | | | Original spelling and its variations were not standardized. | | | | Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, | | _like this_. Words in bold characters are surrounded by equal | | signs, =like this=. | +------------------------------------------------------------------+ 
47176	----	DRAWN AT A VENTURE DRAWN AT A VENTURE A COLLECTION OF DRAWINGS BY FOUGASSE WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY A. A. MILNE METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON _First Published in 1922_ INTRODUCTION THERE are various methods of introducing an artist to his public. One of the best is to describe how you saved his life in the Bush in '82; or he saved yours; and then you go on: "Little did either of us anticipate in those far-off days that Fougasse was destined to become...." Another way is to leave Fougasse out altogether, and concentrate, how happily, on your own theories of black-and-white drawing, or politics, or the decline of the churches; after all, an introduction doesn't last long, and he has the rest of the book to himself. Perhaps, however, it is kinder to keep the last paragraph for him: "Take these little sketches by Fougasse, for instance...." and the reader, if he cares to any longer, can then turn over and take them. Left to ourselves, that is the method we should adopt. But the publisher is at our elbow. "This is an introduction," he says. "For Heaven's sake introduce the fellow." Let us begin, then, by explaining Fougasse's nationality. I never discuss his drawings with another, but we tell each other how remarkable it is that a Frenchman should have such an understanding of English sport. "Of course," we say, "in the actual drawing the nationality reveals itself; the Gallic style stands forth unmistakeably; only a Frenchman has just that line. But how amazingly British is the outlook! Was there ever a Frenchman before who understood and loved cricket as this one?" We ask ourselves how the phenomenon is to be explained. The explanation is simple. A fougasse--I quote the dictionary--is a small mine from six to twelve feet underground charged either with powder or loaded shells; and if a British sapper subaltern, severely wounded at Gallipoli, beguiles the weary years of hospital by drawing little pictures and sending them up to _Punch_, he may as well call himself Fougasse as anything else. Particularly if his real name is Bird, and if a Bird, whose real name is Yeats, is already drawing for _Punch_. Of course it would have been simpler if they had all stuck to their own names like gentlemen, but it is too late now to do anything about it, and when a genuine M. Fougasse of Paris comes along, he will have to call himself Tomkins. Once the downward path of deceit is trodden, there is seemingly no end to it. We have our artist, then, Kenneth Bird of Morar, Inverness. When I first met him at the beginning of 1919, he was just out of hospital, swinging slowly along with the aid of a pair of rocking-horse crutches. This was on his annual journey south, for they have the trains in Morar now. Once a year Fougasse makes the great expedition to London, to see what the latest fashions may be, and is often back in Morar again before they have changed to something later. I have seen him each year; in 1920 with two ordinary crutches; in 1921 with two sticks; in 1922 with one stick; perhaps by 1923 he will be playing again the games of which he makes such excellent fun. But, selfishly, we cannot regret the Turkish bullet, which turned what I suspect of being quite an ordinary engineer into such an individual black-and-white draughtsman. I am really the last person who should be writing this introduction, for all drawing is to me a mystery. When I put two dots, a horizontal line and a vertical line into a circle, the result is undoubtedly a face, but whose, or what expressing, I cannot tell you until afterwards, nor always then. But these mystery men can definitely promise you beforehand that their dot-and-line juggling will represent Contempt or Surprise or Mr. Asquith, just as you want it. It is very strange; and, sometimes I think, not quite fair. However, this is not the place wherein to dwell upon the injustice of it. What I wanted to say was that with Fougasse I feel a little more at ease than usual; we have something in common. Accepting the convention that writers write exclusively with the pen, and that black-and-white artists draw exclusively with the pencil, I should describe Fougasse as more nearly a Brother of the Pen than any of the others. Were I in the _Punch_ office now, I should never begin my weekly contribution until his drawing had turned up, lest it should prove that he had already written it for me; and he, I like to tell myself, would be equally fearful lest that very week I might have got his drawing into type. "The Tragedy of a Trouser," for instance--it is a whole article. Any wide-awake Trade Union would forbid it. But it is Fougasse's golf and cricket articles of which, as a rival practitioner, I should have complained most; in which, Plancus no longer consul, I delight most. Turn to page 31 and you will see all that is to be said on the subject of village cricket. How lucky these draughtsmen are! What a laborious business we others should have made of it! Would any of you have laughed at our wordy description of the fielder in a cloth cap to whom one can run a single? "But one gets in two for trousers tucked into socks"--"stretching it to three for a straw hat"--"and four for a black waistcoat." Each fielder as drawn here is a joy. Yet there is something more than that; we are not just laughing at them, for they are our friends. We look from one to the other of them, and gradually the smile becomes a little wistful. It was how many years ago? Now the printed page has vanished, and we see again the village green. Straw Hat was the postman. Not quite like that, however, for he wore the official trousers with it, but he moved slowly, being the postman and tired of it, and one ran three to him. Black Waistcoat was the dairy farmer; his the cows which had to be driven off the pitch on a Saturday morning; a mighty underhand bowler, bouncing terribly. Fougasse is wrong here, for his hands could stop anything, and one would never run four to him. I doubt if you would ever run four to a black waistcoat, their hands are so big. Slow in the return of course, but safe, safe. You may think that you have had enough of War Sketches, but you will be glad to see the historic "Gadgets" again, and perhaps even now "1914-1918" will give you a lump in the throat with your smile, and make you somehow a little more proud. It is so very much England. But, taking the drawings as a whole, I should say that the charm of their humour lies in the fact that they make the very jokes which we should have made for ourselves, if only we had realized that they were jokes. When Mr. Bateman gives us his brilliant life-study of the man who breathed on the glass in the British Museum, we realize that this is an inspiration far outside our range. "However did he think of it?" we say to ourselves in awe. When Mr. Morrow draws us "a little supper-party at the Borgias," we have to admit sadly that the comedy of a supper-party at the Borgias would never have occurred to _us_. But when Fougasse describes to us his feelings in the presence of the Wedding Detective, or the conversation of the Club Bore in the library, then we beam upon him delightedly. Why, it's absolutely true! We've noticed it ourselves a hundred times! As we were saying to Jones only yesterday----Alas we flatter ourselves. We saw the pebbles lying there, day after day, and there, for us, they would still be lying. But a humorist picks them up and holds them this way and that. The light shines upon them. See! They are precious stones. A. A. MILNE CONTENTS PAGE "CRASHED IN A SHELL-HOLE" 8 THE SONG OF THE SHIRT 9 "SO BEASTLY INFECTIOUS" 10 THE FUMBLER 11 "DON'T TROUBLE" 12 AFTER DINNER JOKES 13 THE CAR FOR THE OWNER-DRIVER 14 TACT 15 "OR TO TAKE ARMS AGAINST A SEA OF TROUBLES" 16 THE HEARTY FELLOW 17 DANSE DES VENTS 18 THE FIRST JOKE 19 GOLFING NOTE 20 "HOW'S THAT?" 21 THE FANCY DRESS 22 THE ADVENT OF THE CHAMPION 23 ONLY IN THE COMIC PAPERS 24 THE PROFESSIONAL HUMORIST PAYS A VISIT 25 "ONLY DOING IT FOR THE PICTURES" 26 THE TRAGEDY OF A TROUSER 27 GOLFING NOTE 28 THE TELEGRAM AT RUGGER 29 THE LOST TICKET 30 THE CHARM OF VILLAGE CRICKET 31 UNREST THROUGH THE AGES 32-33 THE RIGHT ROAD FOR LONDON 34 THE ENTHUSIAST 35 "HAVE YOU ANY HATS?" 36 SYSTEM 37 THE PRACTICAL APPLICATION 38 THE MAN WHO SNEEZED 39 SCOTLAND FOR EVER 40 "GADGETS" 41 NATURE'S TACTLESS MIMICRY 42 "IS THERE AN ORDER COME ROUND?" 42 THE VISIT TO THE FRONT 43 UNPLEASANT NIGHTMARE OF HANS 44 A GERMAN-LIKE NAME 44 THE BASHFUL V.C.'S WELCOME HOME 43 "WOT FLIES?" 46 "WHY DON'T YOU SALUTE AN OFFICER?" 46 CEREMONIAL 47 THE BRIBE 48 THE LATEST RUMOUR FROM THE BACK 48 THE MAKING OF HISTORY 49 1914-1918 50-51 "I THOUGHT YOU WAS AN ENEMY" 52 THE HERO 53 "KEEP YOUR HANDS UP" 54 CAMOUFLAGE 55 STRAWBERRIES FOR JAM 56 "COME OUT AND FRATERNISE" 56 THE WAR MASTERPIECE 57 "NO TROUBLE AT HOME, I HOPE?" 58 "ON PARADE WITHOUT YOUR SPURS" 58 HIS NATIVE SOIL 59 "D'YOU REMEMBER HALTING HERE?" 60 JOCK THE SHEEP-DOG 61 THE RIGHT SPIRIT 62 THE HOUSE THAT JACK WANTS BUILT 63 GOLFING NOTE 64 OUR TREACHEROUS CLIMATE 65 A BRITISH WARM 66 SAFARI-SMITH'S TROPHIES 67 GOLFING NOTE 68 THE GOLFER AND THE NATURALIST 69 THE YOUNG FIREBRANDS' ART CLUB 70 A BIOGRAPHY 71 PATHOS 72 THE WEDDING DETECTIVE 73 "WHAT TIME WILL IT BE?" 74 TO PROMOTE A GRACEFUL FIGURE 75 DURATION OF THE PEACE 76 THE LURE OF THE LAND 77 "SOMEONE'S FORGOTTEN TO PACK" 78 TALL HATS ON THE CRICKET-FIELD 79 "BED, SIR?" 80 "I'VE READ IT" 81 "HOW SMALL THE WORLD IS!" 82 THE DOG FIGHT 83 "TWO TEAS, PLEASE" 84 SOME NEW REVUE FEATURES 85 "'E CALLED ME A 'UN" 86 THE JOURNEY 87 THE RIGHT ENTRANCE 88 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MUSIC 89 "_NOT_ THE THAW" 90 THE PRICE OF EFFICIENCY 91 "WILL I TAKE MY HAT OFF?" 92 THE SPREAD OF EDUCATION 93 MIDGES 94 SALTSEA 95 GOLFING NOTE 96 QUITE CRICKET 97 BROWN'S STORY 98 CONSOLATION 99 "WHICH MR. JONES ARE YOU?" 100 A USE FOR MODERN ART 101 GOLFING NOTE 102 THE MAN WHO COULD DO IT HIMSELF 103 "WOULD YOU NOT PREFER TO HAVE THEM SENT?" 104 THE BARGAIN 105 THE PRACTITIONER'S OVERSIGHT 106 CHECK 107 For permission to reproduce the great majority of the Drawings included in this Volume, the Artist is indebted to the courtesy of the Proprietors of _Punch_. He has also to acknowledge similar kindnesses from the Editors of _London Opinion_, _The Sketch_, _The Tatler_, _The Bystander_, and _The Evening News_. [Illustration: "MAMMA!" "YES, MY CHILD." "WILFRED HAS CRASHED IN A SHELL-HOLE."] [Illustration: THE SONG OF THE SHIRT] [Illustration: _Host (a Mighty Hunter, breaking off in the middle of his longest story):_ "BUT I SEEM TO BE BORING YOU?" _Guest:_ "OH, NO. FACT IS--ALL THESE ANIMALS YAWNING--SO BEASTLY INFECTIOUS."] [Illustration: "MY DEAR FELLOW-- YOU MUST LET ME-- PAY FOR THIS TAXI-- I REALLY MUST INSIST-- YOU'VE PAID FOR-- EVERYTHING, SO FAR-- AND I ENGAGED-- THE FELLOW-- WHY, YOU'VE PAID HIM ALREADY!-- WELL, LOOK HERE, YOU'LL REALLY HAVE TO-- TELL ME SOME TIME-- WHAT I OWE YOU." THE FUMBLER] [Illustration: "WAITER, BRING ME A WHISKY-AND-SODA, PLEASE." "I'M NOT A WAITER, CONFOUND YOU!" "OH, RIGHT-O--THEN DON'T TROUBLE."] [Illustration: How curious it is that jokes which-- irritate us in a book-- aggravate us in a magazine-- exasperate us in a newspaper-- & goad us to fury in a revue--_ Should go down so well in an after-dinner speech!] [Illustration: _Prospective Purchaser:_ "AND WHY DO YOUR ADVERTISEMENTS SAY THAT YOURS IS ESSENTIALLY THE CAR FOR THE OWNER-DRIVER?" _Salesman (under notice to leave):_ "BECAUSE NO SELF-RESPECTING CHAUFFEUR WILL CONDESCEND TO BE SEEN IN ONE."] [Illustration: TACT "EXCUSE ME, DRIVER, BUT COULD YOU TELL ME WHERE I'D BE MOST LIKELY TO FIND A TAXI?"] [Illustration: "... OR TO TAKE ARMS AGAINST A SEA OF TROUBLES ..." _Hamlet_, ACT III, Sc. 1.] [Illustration: "HULLO!---- MY DEAR---- OLD BOY---- HOW ARE YOU? BY JOVE, THAT'S A FUNNY THING---- COULD HAVE SWORN YOU WERE---- SOMEONE I KNEW---- BUT NOW I COME TO LOOK AT YOU---- YOU'RE NO MORE---- LIKE---- HIM---- THAN I AM." THE HEARTY FELLOW] [Illustration: DANSE DES VENTS] [Illustration: THE FIRST JOKE] [Illustration] [Illustration: WHAT INDIVIDUAL EFFORT WILL NOT BRING ABOUT---- "HOW'S THAT?" COMBINED ACTION WILL SOMETIMES EFFECT. "HOW'S THAT?"] [Illustration: PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN IN PROCESS OF DECIDING THAT THE HIRE OF A CAR TO TAKE HIM TO HIS FANCY-DRESS REVEL WOULD HAVE BEEN WELL WORTH THE EXPENSE.] [Illustration: THE ADVENT OF THE CHAMPION [It is extraordinary how apathetic and undemonstrative we are as a nation. Take, for instance, the case of Wally Tuff (champion of the world at his own weight, mark you), who came over here the other day for a quiet holiday.] ALTHOUGH-- NO ONE-- HAD ANY EXCUSE-- FOR NOT KNOWING KNOWING-- THAT HE WAS COMING-- WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT THAT OUT OF A POPULATION OF FORTY-TWO MILLIONS-- NOT MORE THAN TWO PER CENT. TURNED OUT TO SEE HIM ARRIVE?] [Illustration: "DEAR, DEAR, DEAR! WHAT A CURIOUS ACCIDENT! I THOUGHT THAT ONLY HAPPENED IN THE COMIC PAPERS."] [Illustration: "OH, MR. JONES, _WOULD_ YOU WRITE SOME FUNNY LITTLE THING IN MY ALBUM?-- --AND IN MINE?-- --AND IN MINE?-- --AND IN MINE?-- --AND IN MINE?-- --AND IN MINE?-- --AND IN OURS?-- --HERE'S SOME INK--AND A PEN-- --AND A CHAIR-- --AND A TABLE-- --AND NOW WE'LL ALL GATHER ROUND, CHICKS AND BE READY FOR A REAL GOOD LAUGH!" THE PROFESSIONAL HUMOURIST PAYS A VISIT] [Illustration: _Voice from the gods:_ "IT'S ALL RIGHT, MISS. DON'T YOU TAKE ON SO. THEY'RE ONLY DOING IT FOR THE PICTURES."] [Illustration: THE TRAGEDY OF A TROUSER] [Illustration] [Illustration: I ALWAYS THINK THE TELEGRAM CUSTOM-- ADDS SUCH A TONE-- TO CRICKET. I WISH-- IT COULD-- BE-- INTRODUCED-- INTO-- RUGGER.] [Illustration: _The Lost Ticket_--] [Illustration: THE CHARM OF VILLAGE CRICKET THE CHARM OF VILLAGE CRICKET LIES TO A GREAT EXTENT IN THE STRESS IT PLACES ON THE INDIVIDUAL FACTOR. FOR INSTANCE, ONE KNOWS THAT, OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL, IF ONE HITS THE BALL DIRECTLY TOWARDS A-- FIELDER IN A CLOTH CAP ONE CAN RUN A SINGLE-- AND IF HE'S WEARING BRACES ONE CAN RUN TWO-- BUT IF HE'S GOT ON ONE OF THOSE FANCY SWEATERS ONE STAYS WHERE ONE IS. SIMILARLY, A BELT WITH A SNAKE IN IT MEANS A SINGLE-- SO DOES A CLUB TIE-- WHEREAS A GENT'S FANCY BOW MEANS TWO. ONE TAKES NO RISKS, OF COURSE, WITH A HANDKERCHIEF ROUND THE NECK-- BUT ONE GETS IN TWO FOR TROUSERS TUCKED INTO SOCKS-- STRETCHING IT TO THREE FOR A STRAW HAT-- AND FOUR FOR A BLACK WAISTCOAT-- WHILE FOR CUFFS BUTTONED AT THE WRIST-- OR A DICKEY ONE JUST BUNS IT OUT. WITH SMALL BOYS IN SHORTS ONE NATURALLY TAKES NO CHANCES WHATEVER-- AS EVERYONE KNOWS THEY ARE APT TO BECOME SO CONFOUNDEDLY ENTHUSIASTIC.] [Illustration: UNREST THROUGH THE AGES. THE AMALGAMATED SOCIETY OF BAKERS IN GOOD KING ALFRED'S REIGN PROTESTS AGAINST THE EMPLOYMENT OF A NON-UNION MAN. THE MARINER'S UNION THREATENS DIRECT ACTION IF KING CANUTE TAMPERS WITH THE TIDES.] [Illustration: UNREST THROUGH THE AGES THE HOUSEHOLD STAFF OF THE BORGIAS DEMANDS TO BE PUT UPON BOARD WAGES. JAMES WATT IS UNABLE TO CARRY OUT HIS EXPERIMENTS THROUGH A STRIKE OF THE EMPLOYEES OF THE LOCAL WATER COMPANY.] [Illustration: "CAN YOU TELL ME IF THIS IS THE RIGHT ROAD FOR LONDON, PLEASE?" "WHY, BLESS MY SOUL, AIN'T NONE OF YOU EVER BEEN THERE BEFORE?"] [Illustration: THE ENTHUSIAST. "GOING FOR A WALK OVER THE HILLS? I'LL COME WITH YOU TO CHEER YOU UP. TELL ME IF I GO TOO FAST FOR YOU. I CAN KEEP THIS PACE UP ALL DAY. I DON'T MIND HOW FAR IT IS--I NEVER GET TIRED WALKING. NICE WARM WEATHER, ISN'T IT? I SAY, IT IS HOT! OH, NO, THANKS. _I'M_ ALL RIGHT--ONLY JUST FEELING MY GROGGY LEG RATHER-- AND MY STIFF BACK. NEVER BEEN QUITE RIGHT SINCE I HAD INFLUENZA SO BADLY THREE YEARS AGO-- THAT'S WHY THE DOCTOR SAID I MUST NEVER WALK MUCH. IT'S REALLY MY OWN FAULT-- I SHOULDN'T HAVE LET YOU-- PERSUADE ME."] [Illustration: "HAVE YOU ANY--ER--HATS?"] [Illustration: "What counts nowadays, my boy, is system-- When I want a certain piece of information, for instance-- I just look up my index, reach down-- a file-- or two-- and-- before you can-- say-- knife-- it's-- in front of you!" SYSTEM!] [Illustration: "PLEASE, MR. GRAFTO, THE GENTLEMAN ON THE NEXT FLOOR PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS AND SAYS, SEEING AS HOW YOU CAN FORETELL THE FUTURE, WOULD YOU BE SO GOOD AS TO LET HIM KNOW HOW LONG IT WILL BE BEFORE YOUR BATH STOPS OVERFLOWING THROUGH HIS CEILING?"] [Illustration: THE MAN WHO SNEEZED] [Illustration: SCOTLAND FOR EVER.] [Illustration: "GADGETS"] [Illustration: NATURE'S TACTLESS MIMICRY. CURIOUS ATTITUDE ASSUMED BY TREES IN A DISTRICT OCCUPIED BY THE GERMANS.] [Illustration: "HERE, STICK YOUR HEAD DOWN, CHARLIE." "WHAT--IS THERE AN ORDER COME ROUND ABOUT IT?"] [Illustration: "YOU CAN CLEAR AWAY THOSE NOTICE-BOARDS NOW, SERGEANT. THE VISITORS HAVE GONE." THE VISIT TO THE FRONT.] [Illustration: UNPLEASANT NIGHTMARE OF HANS, THE EX-CINEMA ATTENDANT, AFTER LEARNING OF THE AMERICAN DECLARATION OF WAR.] [Illustration: "WE'LL NO GANG IN THERE, JOCK." "FOR WHY, DONAL'?" "MAN, IT'S GOT AN AWFU' GERRMAN-LIKE NAME, YON."] [Illustration: THE BASHFUL V.C.'S WELCOME HOME] [Illustration: _New Hand:_ "FLIES SEEM PRETTY AWFUL OUT HERE, CORPORAL." _Hardened Campaigner:_ "WOT FLIES?"] [Illustration: _Both together:_ "NOW, MY MAN, WHY DON'T YOU SALUTE WHEN YOU PASS AN OFFICER?"] [Illustration: "A SOLDIER WHEN RIDING A BICYCLE WILL TURN HIS HEAD SMARTLY TOWARDS AN OFFICER IN PASSING HIM AND WILL NOT MOVE HIS HANDS FROM THE HANDLE-BAR." CEREMONIAL REFERENCE--INFANTRY TRAINING, 1914, SECT. 18, § viii.] [Illustration: THE BRIBE. "WHO GOES THERE?" "K-KAMERAD--MIT SOUVENIRS."] [Illustration: "HEAR THE LATEST RUMOUR UP FROM THE BACK, GEORGE? WAR'S GOING TO BE OVER NEXT WEEK." "HO. WELL, I HOPE IT DON'T UPSET MY GOING ON LEAVE NEXT TUESDAY."] [Illustration: 1915. THE PURCHASE OF THE SOUVENIR. 1920. "THAT'S A SOUVENIR OF MY JOB AT HAVRE-- 1925. --OF MY SERVICE IN FRANCE-- 1930. --OF MY ACTIVE SERVICE-- 1935. --OF MY FIGHTING DAYS 1940. GOT THAT IN THE BIG PUSH-- 1945. --FIERCE FIGHTING IT WAS-- 1950. --_DESPERATE_ FIGHTING, 1955. --_HACKED_ MY WAY THROUGH-- 1960. --RIGHT UP TO THEIR GENERAL-- 1965. --CUT HIS HEAD OFF-- 1970. --_THAT_ WAS ON IT!" THE MAKING OF HISTORY] [Illustration: "WELL, I'M BLOWED IF I SEE-- --WHAT GOOD-- --I CAN BE-- --TURNING OUT-- --TO FIGHT-- --THEM-- --BLOOMING-- --GERMANS-- --WITH ALL THEIR-- --GUNS-- --AND THEIR MILLIONS O' MEN-- --AND SO FORTH-- --AND SO ON. BEEN PREPARING FOR THIS, THEY HAVE,-- 1914-1918--I.] [Illustration: --FOR THE LAST FORTY YEARS-- --AND NOT SO PARTICULAR, EITHER, MIND YOU,-- --A DIRTY LOT,-- --WITH THEIR ZEPPS-- --AND SUBMARINES. IT'S NOT AS IF-- --WE WERE A MILITARY NATION-- --OR TOOK KINDLY TO IT AT ALL. IN FACT-- --I DON'T WONDER-- --IT'S TAKEN US-- --OVER-- --FOUR YEARS-- --TO FINISH THE JOB." 1914-1918--II.] [Illustration: _Boche (suddenly appearing over the top):_ "KAMERAD! KAMERAD!" _Briton:_ "LOR', MY SON, YOU _DID_ GIVE ME A TURN. I THOUGHT YOU WAS AN ENEMY."] [Illustration: "I WANT YOU TO MAKE ME A TUNIC-- RANK? BRIGADIER-- YES, ONE OR TWO RIBBONS TO GO ON IT-- MILITARY CROSS-- D.S.O.-- AND A V.C. OF COURSE-- LEGION OF HONOUR, C.M.G. AND SO FORTH-- TEN WOUND STRIPES-- AND MAKE AS SMART A JOB OF IT AS YOU CAN, WON'T YOU? BECAUSE-- I WANT IT FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS." THE HERO] [Illustration: "AND LOOK HERE, FRITZ-- --WHATEVER HAPPENS-- --SEE YOU KEEP-- THEM HANDS OF YOURS-- --WELL ABOVE-- YOUR BLINKIN' HEAD."] [Illustration: BEFORE. AFTER. CAMOUFLAGE] [Illustration: "HERE, LISTEN TO THIS. IT SAYS THE GOV'MENT HAVE BOUGHT UP ALL THE STRAWBERRIES TO MAKE JAM FOR THE TROOPS." "GO ON, GEORGE! HOW CAN THEY MAKE PLUM-AND-APPLE OUT O' STRAWBERRIES?"] [Illustration: _Tommy ("Mopping-up" captured trench):_ "IS THERE ANYONE DOWN THERE?" _Voice from dug-out:_ "JA! JA! KAMERAD!" _Tommy:_ "THEN COME OUT HERE AND FRATERNISE." ] [Illustration: IT WAS UNFORTUNATE THAT BROWN HAD NOT FINISHED HIS MASTERPIECE, "THE SURRENDER OF THE GARRISON," BY THE TIME THE WAR CAME TO AN END. HOWEVER, IT NEEDED VERY LITTLE ALTERATION TO MAKE IT SALEABLE.] [Illustration: _Sociable Escort (to Boche prisoner, after several ineffectual attempts to start a conversation):_ "AHEM!--ER--NO TROUBLE AT HOME, I HOPE?"] [Illustration: _The Wit:_ "AH, NOW YOU'RE FOR IT, ALBERT." _Tractor-Driver:_ "WOT'S THE MATTER?" _The Wit:_ "WHY, YOU'VE BEEN AND GONE AND COME ON PARADE WITHOUT YOUR SPURS."] [Illustration: 1914.--MR. WILLIAM SMITH ANSWERS THE CALL TO PRESERVE HIS NATIVE SOIL INVIOLATE. 1919.--MR. WILLIAM SMITH COMES BACK AGAIN, TO SEE HOW WELL HE HAS DONE IT.] [Illustration: _First Contemptible:_ "D'YOU REMEMBER HALTING HERE ON THE RETREAT, GEORGE?" _Second ditto:_ "Can't call it to mind, somehow. Was it that little village in the wood down by the river, or was it that place with the Cathedral and all them factories?"] [Illustration: JOCK THE SHEEP-DOG JOCK THE SHEEP-DOG-- WAS A BATTALION MASCOT DURING THE WAR. NOW HE-- IS BACK-- WITH THE SHEEP AGAIN.] [Illustration: THE RIGHT SPIRIT. _Corporal in charge (on arrival at bridge):_ "DE--TACHMENT, BREAK--STEP!" ["When crossing a military bridge Infantry will break step."--_Extract from "Regulations."_]] [Illustration: THE HOUSE THAT JACK WANTS BUILT. THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK WANTS BUILT. THIS IS THE LANDOWNER WHO (IF THE TALK OF A RAILWAY BEING MADE OVER THIS BIT OF LAND DOESN'T COME TO ANYTHING, AND THE CORPORATION CANNOT, AFTER ALL, BE INDUCED TO BUY IT AS A RECREATION-GROUND, AND NO ONE MAKES A BETTER OFFER) IS WILLING TO SELL THE GROUND TO CARRY THE HOUSE THAT JACK WANTS BUILT. THIS IS THE ARCHITECT AND SURVEYOR WHO (AS SOON AS HE HAS FINISHED HIS DESIGNS FOR THE NEW TOWN HALL, THE PROPOSED COUNTY HOSPITAL, THE CATHEDRAL EXTENSION, THE BOROUGH POWER STATION AND THE DRINKING-FOUNTAIN, AND PROVIDED THAT NO MORE IMPORTANT COMMISSION TURNS UP) IS GOING TO DESIGN THE HOUSE TO GO ON THE GROUND OF THE LANDOWNER WHO.... THIS IS THE LOCAL AUTHORITY WHO (IF HE CAN OBTAIN DETAILS OF THE SEVERAL REQUIREMENTS OF THE COUNTY COUNCIL, PARISH COUNCIL, CENTRAL HOUSING AUTHORITY, MINISTRY OF HEALTH, BOARD OF AGRICULTURE, MINISTRY OF TRANSPORT, CONGESTED DISTRICTS BOARD, AND ANY OTHER DEPARTMENTS INTERESTED, EITHER NOW IN EXISTENCE OR CONTEMPLATED FOR THE FUTURE) IS GOING TO INSPECT, REVISE, AMEND, AND POSITIVELY FINALLY APPROVE THE DESIGNS OF THE ARCHITECT AND SURVEYOR WHO.... THIS IS THE BUILDING CONTRACTOR WHO (PROVIDED THAT PRESSURE OF WORK ALLOWS HIM, AND THAT HE CAN GET THE MATERIALS, WHICH IS DOUBTFUL, AND THE MEN, WHICH IS HARDLY PROBABLE, AND THE PRICE, WHICH IS PRACTICALLY OUT OF THE QUESTION) IS GOING TO CARRY OUT THE DESIGNS, AS FINALLY APPROVED BY the local authority who.... THIS IS THE RAILWAY OFFICIAL WHO (ON THE SUPPOSITION THAT THE CONGESTION ON THE LINE WILL POSSIBLY BE EASIER LATER, AND THAT THE SUPPLY OF GOODS WAGONS IS VERY CONSIDERABLY AUGMENTED, AND THAT NEW LOOPS AND SIDINGS NOT YET SUGGESTED WILL BE CONSTRUCTED TO RELIEVE THE PRESSURE, AND THAT A REORGANISATION OF THE RAILWAY STAFF DOES NOT MOVE HIM ELSEWHERE, AS WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY HAPPEN) HAS PROMISED TO DO HIS BEST TO EXPEDITE THE TRANSPORT OF THE NECESSARY MATERIALS TO THE BUILDING CONTRACTOR WHO.... THIS IS THE MERCHANT WHO (IF PRICES ARE LEFT ENTIRELY TO HIS DISCRETION AND TIME IS OF NO IMPORTANCE, AND IF HE FINDS THAT, AFTER ALL, IT IS TO HIS ADVANTAGE TO SELL IN THIS COUNTRY RATHER THAN TO EXPORT, AND IF HE DOESN'T RETIRE IN THE MEANTIME, AS HE IS THINKING OF DOING) HAS CONSENTED TO TRY TO SEND MATERIALS THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF THE RAILWAY OFFICIAL WHO.... THESE ARE THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE BUILDING TRADES WHO (IF ALL MATTERS IN DISPUTE ARE SATISFACTORILY SETTLED BY THAT TIME, AND PROVIDED THAT THEY CAN ALL GET THEIR OWN HOUSES SITED, DESIGNED, PASSED, CONTRACTED FOR, SUPPLIED AND BUILT FIRST) ARE GOING TO ERECT THE MATERIALS PROVIDED BY THE MERCHANT WHO.... AND THIS? THIS, INCIDENTALLY, IS JACK.] [Illustration] [Illustration: OUR TREACHEROUS CLIMATE] [Illustration: "WELL, ANYHOW, NO ONE COULD TELL THAT THIS WAS ONCE A BRITISH WARM."] [Illustration: I USED TO THINK THAT OLD SAFARI-SMITH'S TROPHIES MADE AN AWFULLY JOLLY DECORATION TO HIS DINING-ROOM-- BUT NOW THAT HE'S MOVED TO A FLAT IN LONDON I'M REALLY NOT QUITE SO SURE OF IT.] [Illustration] [Illustration: ROBINSON USED TO FIND THAT THE AUDIENCE AT BIG MATCHES-- PUT HIM RIGHT OFF HIS GAME. BUT AFTER GREENCHAT, THE NATURALIST,-- HAD-- PLAYED-- A FEW-- ROUNDS-- WITH HIM-- NOTHING COULD-- RUFFLE HIM.] [Illustration: THE YOUNG FIREBRANDS' ART CLUB HOLDS ITS FIFTIETH ANNUAL DINNER.] [Illustration: 1 _A House Party in the Midlands._ (From left to right): Mr. John Smith, Mr. T. Jones, Miss Peggy Smith, ----, Capt. Robinson. Seated Col. Tompkin, V.D., Mrs. Smith. 2 _Snapped in the Park._ Lady Lily Lavender walking with a friend. 3 _An Echo of the Twelfth._ Members of Lord Tweedledum's party at luncheon. From left to right: Capt. Cork, R.N., the Horrible, Rose Tweedle, Mr. J. Penn, Lord Tweedledum & Major Mitten. 4 _Authors at Play._ Sir Ernest Wrightwell & Mr. Jay Penn at North Hoywick. 5 _A Rising Writer._ Mr. Jay Penn, whose latest novel, "Tripe," is attracting so much attention. 6 _A distinguished Author._ Mr. Jay Penn at work. 7 Mr. Jay Penn. A recent portrait. 8 Mr. Jay Penn, the brilliant novelist, whose stirring serial of love and hate, entitled "Apes of Lebanon" commences in these columns on Monday. 9 _Snapped in the Park._ Mr. Jay Penn walking with a friend. 10 _Enjoying the sunshine on the Riviera:_ Mr. Jay Penn & Lord Zero. 11 _At the Eton & Harrow Match._ Sir Salmo Ferox & Mr. Jay Penn. 12 Mr. Jay Penn, whose novel "Tripe" created such a sensation a few seasons ago. 13 General Omnibus chatting with Mr. Penn, the author. 14 A Group at the Mudshire Hunt Ball: Capt. Roarer, Miss Bullfinch, Miss Thurston & Mr. James Penn. 15 The Hopkins-Jopson wedding: one of the guests arriving. A BIOGRAPHY] [Illustration: PATHOS "I WANT TO CHOOSE A CHRISTMAS PRESENT--ONE SUITABLE FOR A SHORT, DARK, MIDDLE-AGED BACHELOR WITH RETIRING DISPOSITION AND NO NEAR RELATIVES--TO GIVE TO HIMSELF."] [Illustration: THE PRESENCE OF A DETECTIVE AMONG THE WEDDING PRESENTS-- ALWAYS UNSETTLES ME. I FEEL SURE THAT-- SOONER OR LATER-- I SHALL BE HYPNOTISED-- INTO DOING-- SOMETHING-- WHICH WILL GET ME-- INTO TROUBLE. THE WEDDING DETECTIVE: A STUDY IN SUGGESTION] [Illustration: _Wee Donald Angus:_ "PLEASE, SIRR, WHAT TIME WILL IT BE?" _Literal Gentleman:_ "WHEN?"] [Illustration: The Pupil should now seat himself upon the floor-- with the feet under some heavy piece of furniture-- with body erect-- and arms extended above the head-- he allows himself-- to-- bend-- slowly-- backwards-- until-- a recumbent position-- is reached. EXERCISE 3.--TO PROMOTE A GRACEFUL FIGURE.] [Illustration: "HULLO, GEORGE--NOT DEMOBBED YET?" "NO--SIGNED ON AGAIN." "HOW LONG FOR?" "JUST FOR DURATION OF THE PEACE."] [Illustration: ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A MAN WHO BOUGHT A FARM-- --BECAUSE AN OPEN-AIR LIFE APPEALED TO HIM-- --AND BECAUSE IT MADE ONE ONE'S OWN MASTER-- --BECAUSE, MOREOVER, HE WAS FOND OF ANIMALS-- --AND ALSO BECAUSE ANY AMOUNT OF EXPERT OPINION WAS ALWAYS AVAILABLE IN CASES OF DOUBT-- --BECAUSE, AGAIN, THE ELEMENT OF UNCERTAINTY GAVE SUCH A CHARM TO IT-- --AND, FURTHER, BECAUSE CERTAIN SECTIONS WERE BOUND TO BE PROFITABLE-- --IN ADDITION BECAUSE UP-TO-DATE APPLIANCES MADE EVERYTHING SO EASY-- --BECAUSE, IN PARTICULAR, IT TOOK ONE BACK TO NATURE, AND HELPED ONE TO AN UNDERSTANDING OF NATURAL LAWS-- --AND, LASTLY, BECAUSE, AFTER ALL, ONE COULD ALWAYS GET RID OF THE BEASTLY THING. THE LURE OF THE LAND] [Illustration: _Husband (on visit to Country House):_ "I SAY, SOMEONE'S FORGOTTEN TO PACK MY EVENING CLOTHES." _Wife:_ "WELL, IT WASN'T ME, DEAR. IF ANYONE DIDN'T, YOU MUST HAVE YOURSELF."] [Illustration: OF COURSE WE KNOW ALL ABOUT-- THE TALL HATS-- THAT OUR FOREFATHERS-- USED TO WEAR-- ON THE CRICKET-FIELD-- BUT WHAT NO ONE-- SEEMS TO HAVE RECORDED-- IS WHAT-- THE UMPIRE-- THOUGHT ABOUT IT ALL. TALL HATS ON THE CRICKET-FIELD.] [Illustration: "BED, SIR? HERE IS A GENUINE JACOBEAN, FOR WHICH WE ARE ASKING ONLY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY GUINEAS." "WELL, TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH I WASN'T WANTING TO _BUY_ ONE. BUT I CAN'T GET A BED ANYWHERE IN LONDON, AND I WAS JUST WONDERING IF YOU COULD LET ME SLEEP IN IT TO-NIGHT."] [Illustration: "RATTLING GOOD BOOK THIS, COURTSHIP AND CRIME." "YES, I'VE READ IT." "SPLENDIDLY WRITTEN." "YES, I'VE READ IT." "BY JOVE, IT'S EXCITING!" "I'VE READ IT." "THERE'S ONE THRILLING BIT WHERE--" "YES, I'VE--" "--THE HERO--" "--READ IT." "--BUT I MUST READ IT TO YOU." "I'VE READ IT." "I KNOW YOU'LL--" "I'VE READ IT." "--ENJOY IT." "I'VE READ IT."] [Illustration: "HULLO, BROWN! FANCY RUNNING UP AGAINST YOU. HOW SMALL THE WORLD IS, TO BE SURE!" "Y-YES. TERRIBLY SMALL, ISN'T IT?"] [Illustration: THE DOG FIGHT] [Illustration: "COULD WE HAVE TWO TEAS, PLEASE?" "WHY, DIDN'T I BRING YOU TWO JUST NOW?" "OH, YES. BUT WE'VE LET A GENTLEMAN IN THE STALLS HAVE THOSE."] [Illustration: WE ARE CREDIBLY INFORMED THAT SEVERAL ENTIRELY NEW AND ORIGINAL FEATURES WILL APPEAR IN REVUES PRODUCED THIS SEASON. THERE WILL BE, FOR INSTANCE:-- A SCENE IN PARIS; A SCENE IN HONOLULU; A SCENE IN THE OLD VILLAGE; A SCENE IN THE STATES (_HUMOROUS_); A NOVEL THIRTY-MINUTE SKETCH; A £500,000 SPECTACLE; A RATHER DARING SCENE IN AN ARTIST'S STUDIO, COMPLETE WITH MODEL, AND A SCENE AT A FANCY-DRESS BALL, COMPLETE WITH "SPECIALITY DANCE"; NOT TO MENTION SOME EXTREMELY ORIGINAL CROSS-TALK; A DELIGHTFULLY DAINTY OLD-WORLD INTERLUDE; A FEW SUBTLE POLITICAL ALLUSIONS, _AND_ A GRAND PAGEANT OF BRITISH SPORTS.] [Illustration: _The Pugnacious Gentleman:_ "BUT 'E BIN AN' CALLED ME A 'UN.'" _The Peacemaker:_ "WELL, HE MAY HAVE MEANT IT QUITE KINDLY-LIKE, BILL. IT AIN'T AS IF WE WAS STILL AT WAR WITH THE DIRTY 'OUNDS."] [Illustration: THE JOURNEY: A DIALOGUE IN ENGLISH. The Start. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours. 4 hours. 5 hours. 6 hours. 7 hours. 8 hours. 8 hours 59 minutes. "Excuse me but isn't your name Smith? Surely we met at the Robinsons' yesterday?" 8 hours 59½ minutes. "Of course--you're Jones aren't you? I was sure I recognised you when I got in." 9 hours. Arrival at destination.] [Illustration: "I TRUST YOU'LL EXCUSE ME MENTIONING IT, MY GOOD FELLOW, BUT THAT IS THE RIGHT ENTRANCE--ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROAD."] [Illustration: THE BROTHERHOOD OF MUSIC] [Illustration: _Professor's Wife:_ "SEPTIMUS, THE THAW HAS BURST THE PIPES." _Professor:_ "NO, NO, MARIE. AS I'VE HAD OCCASION TO EXPLAIN TO YOU EVERY YEAR SINCE I CAN REMEMBER, IT'S THE FROST THAT BURSTS THE PIPES--_NOT_ THE THAW."] [Illustration: THE PRICE OF EFFICIENCY. IN THE DAYS WHEN LAWN TENNIS-- WAS ONLY A GAME-- SERVING USED TO BE REALLY-- QUITE-- GOOD-- FUN. BUT NOW-- THAT-- IT'S-- BECOME-- A SERIOUS BUSINESS-- OF COURSE-- THINGS-- ARE-- DIFFERENT.] [Illustration: "WILL I TAKE MY HAT OFF?-- CERTAINLY-- I'M SURE-- I DON'T WANT-- TO BE A NUISANCE-- TO ANYBODY."] [Illustration: 1914. 1920. THE SPREAD OF EDUCATION] [Illustration: "MY DEAR FELLOW, YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ANYTHING LIKE THAT." "NO--DARE SAY NOT--GET AWAY FROM MOST OF THE MIDGES, THOUGH."] [Illustration: _If you're thinking of painting the picturesque little village of Saltsea-- make sure-- before you start-- that you don't choose-- the day of the annual regatta._] [Illustration] [Illustration: WHEN THE BEST YOU CAN HOPE FOR IS A DRAW-- --IT IS, OF COURSE-- --ROTTEN BAD FORM-- --TO-- --WASTE TIME-- --DELIBERATELY-- BUT CAN THERE BE ANY HARM-- --IN-- --PUTTING-- --ON-- --A BOWLER-- --WHO-- --TAKES-- --A-- --SOMEWHAT-- --LONGER-- --RUN THAN USUAL? QUITE CRICKET] [Illustration: "HAVE YOU HEARD BROWN'S STORY OF HOW HE SCORED OFF A TAXI-DRIVER THIS MORNING?" "YES. I TOLD HIM IT LAST NIGHT."] [Illustration: AT ALL EVENTS-- I'D RATHER-- LOSE MY SIDE THE MATCH-- BY COMMITTING THE BLUNDER-- OF MISSING A CATCH-- WHILE FIELDING FOR THEM-- THAN THAT-- I SHOULD-- WIN IT-- FOR THEM-- BY COMMITTING-- THE UNSPEAKABLE CRIME-- OF-- MISSING ONE-- WHILE FIELDING SUBSTITUTE FOR OUR OPPONENTS. CONSOLATION] [Illustration: _Fair Partner:_ "One always meets so many interesting people here that i get quite confused. Now tell me, which Mr. Jones are you?" _Jones:_ "Me? Oh, i'm only the Jones who's invited to brighten up a dull party."] [Illustration: A USE FOR MODERN ART] [Illustration] [Illustration: "HORACE, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE BOILER. SHALL I GET THE PLUMBER?" "PLUMBER? OF COURSE NOT-- I'LL PUT IT RIGHT. JUST GET ME A SPANNER-- AND A HAMMER-- AND A LADDER-- AND SOME STRING-- AND A WOODEN PLUG OR TWO-- AND AS MANY TOWELS AS YOU CAN FIND-- AND ALL THE BLANKETS IN THE HOUSE-- AND-- THE DOCTOR." THE MAN WHO COULD DO IT HIMSELF] [Illustration: _Tactful Shopwalker (to lady who seems to have got into the rough with her umbrella):_ "Excuse me, Madam, but would you not prefer to have them sent for you?"] [Illustration: SMITH, WITH SURPRISING GOOD FORTUNE, PICKED UP AN ALMOST INDUBITABLY GENUINE OLD SATSUMA BOWL FOR 7_s._ 6_d._ <sc>_Pipkin on Pottery_ (21_s._ NET) CONFIRMED HIS BELIEF. WHICH WAS FURTHER STRENGTHENED BY GRUBMANN'S _ORIENTAL PORCELAINS_ (£3 14_s._ 6_d._ WITH POSTAGE); WHILE MUTT'S _CERAMICS_ (15 VOLS. £20 CARRIAGE PAID) PUT THE MATTER PRACTICALLY BEYOND DOUBT. A VISIT TO THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM (TAXIS 7_s._), AND ANOTHER TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM (MORE TAXIS 9_s._ 6_d._; LUNCH 11_s._ 3_d._) INCREASED HIS CONVICTION; AND FINALLY HIS FRIEND HARDPASTE, THE EXPERT, WHOM HE ASKED TO DINNER (INCLUDING WINES AND CIGARS £4 18_s._ 6_d._) TO VIEW THE PIECE, SET THE SEAL ON HIS TRIUMPH BY DECLARING IT UNQUESTIONABLY AUTHENTIC AND WORTH (IN THE PROPER QUARTER, OF COURSE) QUITE DOUBLE WHAT HE GAVE FOR IT. THE BARGAIN] [Illustration: UNFORTUNATE OVERSIGHT ON THE PART OF A PRACTITIONER CALLED AWAY FROM HIS CHILDREN'S PARTY TO ATTEND A PATIENT IN HIS CONSULTING-ROOM.] [Illustration: "H'M, YES--I FEAR WE MUST KNOCK OFF TOBACCO." "CERTAINLY. I NEVER SMOKE." "AND ALCOHOL ALSO, I'M AFRAID." "BY ALL MEANS. I'M A TEETOTALER." "STRONG TEA AND COFFEE ARE EQUALLY POISONOUS, BEAR IN MIND." "RATHER. I NEVER TOUCH THEM." "NO SUGAR OR SWEET THINGS, REMEMBER!" "EXCELLENT! I DETEST 'EM." "A MEAT DIET STRICTLY FORBIDDEN!!" "SPLENDID. I'M A VEGETARIAN." "A COLD BATH EVERY MORNING!!!" "GLORIOUS. I ALWAYS HAVE ONE." "AND G-GO AWAY FOR A LONG BRACING CHANGE TO THE B-BLEAKEST PART OF THE EAST COAST...." "PRICELESS. WHY, MY DEAR OLD FELLOW-- "I LIVE THERE." CHECK!] _Printed in Great Britain by Jarrold & Sons, Ltd., Norwich, England._ 
45700	----	Transcriber's Note: Some Illustrations have been moved higher in the book to allow uninterrupted flow of the text. PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. Hammerton Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day. MR. PUNCH ON THE CONTINONG [Illustration] [Illustration: THE STEAM-LAUNCH IN VENICE ("SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI") _'Andsome 'Arriet._ "Ow my! If it 'yn't that bloomin' old Temple Bar, as they did aw'y with out o' Fleet Street!" _Mr. Belleville_ (_referring to Guide-book_). "Now, it 'yn't! It's the fymous Bridge o' _Sighs_, as _Byron_ went and stood on; 'im as wrote _Our Boys_, yer know!" _'Andsome 'Arriet._ "Well, I _never!_ It 'yn't _much_ of a _Size_, any'ow!" _Mr. Belleville._ "'Ear! 'ear Fustryte!"] MR. PUNCH ON THE CONTINONG _WITH 152 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, JOHN LEECH, CHARLES KEENE, L. RAVENHILL, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, REGINALD CLEAVER, AND OTHER HUMOROUS ARTISTS [Illustration] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE AMALGAMATED PRESS, LTD. PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Crown 8vo. 192 pages, fully illustrated, pictorial cover, 1s. net._ MR. PUNCH AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK MR. PUNCH ON THE CONTINONG MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS OTHERS TO FOLLOW [Illustration: Before the Battle] [Illustration: After the Battle] OFF TO THE CONTINONG! (_A Foreword_) [Illustration: FANCY AND---- The kind of figure you see on posters inviting you to French seaside resorts. ] Nothing is more calculated to give Englishmen a good conceit of themselves in the matter of international courtesy than a careful examination of the archives of Mr. Punch, such as was necessary in the preparation of the present volume. To anyone familiar with the anti-British attitude of the French comic press before these happier days of the _Entente Cordiale_, and of the German press at all times, the complete absence of all manner of ill-feeling from Mr. Punch's jokes about our neighbours across the Channel is little short of wonderful. Even in the days when the English people were the unfailing subject for every French satirist when he suffered from an unusual attack of spleen, our national jester seems never to have lost the good-humour with which he has usually surveyed the life of the Continent. Indeed, as the pages here brought together will readily prove, Mr. Punch has seldom, if ever, laid himself open to the charge of insularity in his point of view. Instead of showing a tendency to ridicule our neighbours on the Continent, he has been more inclined to pillory the follies of his own countrymen, and to contrast their behaviour on the Continent rather unfavourably with that of the natives. But, even so, there is nothing in these humorous chronicles of "Mr. Punch on the Continong" which will not amuse equally the travelling or the stay-at-home Briton and the foreigner, since each will find many of his national characteristics "touched off" in a way that is no less kindly than amusing. The fact that a considerable proportion of these pages are from the pen of George Du Maurier, himself a Frenchman by birth, is a reminder that long before the Governments of France and Great Britain had come into their present relationship of intimate friendliness, Mr. Punch had maintained his own _Entente Cordiale!_ [Illustration: FACT! The kind of figure which comes nearest to the ideal you have formed. ] [Illustration: WHERE SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BETTER SCENE--_Boulevards, Paris_ _Professional Beggar_ (_whining_). "Ayez pitié, mon bon m'sieu. Ayez pitié! J'ai froid--j'ai bien froid!" _Le Bon Monsieur_ (_irritably_). "Allez au di----" (_suddenly thinking that sunshine might be preferable_) "aux Champs Elysées!"] [Illustration: "LOOK ON THIS PICTURE----] AND ON THIS!"] [Illustration: ON THE BOULOGNE PIER (TWO ASIDES) _Young England._ "Rummy style of 'at!" _La Jeune France._ "Drôle de chapeau!"] MR. PUNCH ON THE CONTINONG TIPS (_To a Friendly Adviser_) When starting off on foreign trips, I've felt secure if someone gave me Invaluable hints and tips; Time, trouble, money, these would save me. I'm off; you've told me all you know. Forewarned, forearmed, I start, instructed How much to spend, and where to go; Yet free, not like some folks "conducted." Now I shall face, serene and calm, Those persons, often rather pressing For little gifts, with outstretched palm. To some of them I'll give my blessing. To others--"_service_" being paid-- _Buona mano_, _pourboire_, _trinkgeld;_ They fancy Englishmen are made Of money, made of (so they think) _geld_. The _garçon_, ready with each dish, His brisk "_Voilà, monsieur_" replying To anything that one may wish; His claim admits of no denying. The _portier_, who never rests, Who speaks six languages together To clamorous, inquiring guests, On letters, luggage, trains, boats, weather. The _femme de chambre_, who fills my _bain;_ The _ouvreuse_, where I see the _acteur_. A cigarette to _chef de train_, A franc to energetic _facteur_. I give each _cocher_ what is right; I know, without profound researches, What I must pay for each new sight-- Cathedrals, castles, convents, churches. Or climbing up to see a view, From _campanile_, roof, or steeple, Those verbal tips I had from you Save money tips to other people. Save all those florins, marks or francs-- Or _pfennige_, _sous_, _kreutzer_, is it?-- The change they give me at the banks, According to the towns I visit. I seem to owe you these, and yet Will money do? My feeling's deeper. I'll owe you an eternal debt-- A debt of gratitude, that's cheaper. [Illustration: _The Cleaner_ (_showing tourists round the church_). "Voilà le Maître-autel, m'sieu' et 'dame." _British Matron_. "Oh, to be sure, yes. You remember, George, we had French beans, _à la Maître Autel_ for dinner yesterday!"] BREAKING THE BANK AT MONTE CARLO (_A Note from One who has all but done it_) DEAR MR. PUNCH.--Now that so many of my countrymen (the word includes both sexes) patronise Monte Carlo, it is well that they should be provided with an infallible system. Some people think that a lucky pig charm or a piece of Newgate rope produces luck. But this impression is caused by a feeling of superstition--neither more nor less. What one wants in front of the table is a really scientific mathematical system. This I am prepared to give. Take a Napoleon as a unit, making up your mind to lose up to a certain sum, and do not exceed that sum. Now back the colour twenty consecutive times. Don't double, but simply keep to the unit. When you have lost to the full extent of your limit, double your stake. Keep to this sum for another twenty turns. By this time it is a mathematical certainty that you must either have won--or lost. Of course, if you have won you will be pleased. If you have lost, keep up your heart and double your stakes again. This time you will be backing the colour with a stake four times as large as your original fancy. Again go for twenty turns, and see what comes of it. Of course, if you still lose it will be unfortunate, but you cannot have everything. And with this truism, I sign myself, ONE WHO WISHES TO BENEFIT MANKIND. [Illustration: FOREIGNERS IN FRANCE _First Foreigner_. "This is what they call _à la Russe_, isn't it!" _Second Foreigner_. "_Alleroose_ is it? Well there! I could a' sworn it warn't beef nor mutton."] THE BRITISH BATHER (_By a Dipper in Brittany_) [Apropos of a correspondence in the _Daily Graphic_] Mrs. Grundy rules the waves, With Britons for her slaves-- They're fearful to disport themselves, Unless the sexes sort themselves And take their bathing, sadly, for French gaiety depraves (!) 'Tis time no more were seen The out-of-date "machine"; Away with that monstrosity Of prudish ponderosity-- Why can't we have the bathing tent or else the trim _cabine?_ I think we should advance If we took a hint from France, And mingled (quite decorously) On beaches that before us lie All round our coasts--we do abroad whene'er we get the chance! O'er here in St. Maló The thing's quite _comme il faut;_ Why not in higher latitude? I can't make out the attitude Of those who make the British dip so "shocking," dull and slow! [Illustration: NOTES FROM MR. PUNCH'S FOREIGN SKETCH-BOOK FEEDING THE PIGEONS AT ST. MARK'S SQUARE, VENICE] [Illustration: L'ANGLAIS FIN-DE-SIÈCLE _First Tripper_ (_in French Picture Gallery_). "What O! 'Erb! What price this?" _Gardien_ (_who quite understands him_). "Pardon, M'sieur, eet is not 'Watteau,' and eet is not for sale!"] [Illustration: _Tourist expostulates_: "Oh--h, come! Them seegar is poor le--le--le--foomigaseong de mor-mem--yer fool!"] A ROMAN HOLIDAY _On the Appian Way_ We are with a guide, voluble after the fashion of guides all the world over, and capable of speaking many languages execrably. His English, no doubt, is typical of the rest. "Datt-e building dere," he says, "is de Barze of Caracalla." "The _what?_" says my companion. "De Barze of Caracalla--vere de ancient Romans bayze demselfs in de water--same as ve go to Casino, zey take a barze, morning, afternoon, ven zey like." "It must have been a large building," I venture, ineptly. "In dem dere barze," he retorts, impressively, "sixteen honderd peoples all could chomp in de water same time!" "Jolly good splash they must have made," says A. The guide pays no attention, but continues:-- "Dem dere barze not de biggest. In de Barze of Diocletian four tousand peoples all could chomp in de water same time. In all de barze in Rome forrrty tousand could chomp in same time." "I wonder," says A., "how they got 'em all together and started them jumping?" "Vell, dey not all chomp togesser every day same peoples, but ven de barze all full den forrrty tousand chomp in same time." _At the Bosco Sacro._ "Now," remarks the guide, "I tell you fonny story--make you laugh. Ven dem eight honderd robbers foundated Rome dey live on a 'ill and dey haf no religion. Den come de King Numa Pompilio: he say 'dey most haf religion,' so he can goffern dem better. Den 'e go to diss _bosco_, and ven he come back he tell dem robbers he haf seen de Naimp _Egeea_----" "The Nymph _Egeria_," A. intervenes, with superiority. "Vell, I say de Naimp _Egeea_. He say he haf seen her, dat she haf appareeted to him, and so dey get deir religion." A. laughs dubiously. "Yes," concludes the guide, "dat iss a fonny story." _By the Circus of Maxentius_. "Diss is de Circus of Massenzio. He build 'im ven his son Romulus die. No, diss is not de same Romulus who foundated Rome, but anosser one, a leetle boy, de son of de Emperor Massenzio. He die ven he vos a leetle boy. In dem days it not permitted to make sacrifice of men, so dey build a race-course instead: it is de same ting, for some of de charioteers alvays get dem killed, and Massenzio tink dey go play wiz Romulus." _In the Catacombs._ "Ven de _martiri_ condemnated to dess and dey kill dem, dey safe some drops blood in a leetle bottle and dey put dem bottles in de valls. Dere iss a bit, you see. San Sebastiano 'e vos condemnated to de arrows--dey shotted 'im--and afterward dey smash his head on a column. Dere is de column." "What was that you were telling us about Caracalla just now?" "Caracalla he no like 'is brozzer Geta--so he kill 'im. Den he make 'im a god and tell peoples to vorship him, and 'e say 'I did not like my brozzer ven he vos a man, but I like him very moch ven he is a god.' Dat is anosser funny story." * * * AT BOULOGNE.--_Mrs. Sweetly_ (_on her honeymoon_). "Isn't it funny, Archibald, to see so many foreigners about? And all talking French!" [Illustration: FROM "LA CÔTE D'AZUR" _Fritz the Waiter_ (_to Lady and Gent just arrived, and a little at sea as to the sort of a kind of a place it is_). "Yes, madame, dere is such a lot of _Swift_ people here. More dan half de peoples what is here is _Swift_."] [Illustration: O FLATTERY, THY NAME IS FRENCHWOMAN! John Henry Jones thinks he will do a little bit of marketing for himself, and asks the price of tomatoes. With a killing glance and a winning smile, the vendor replies that for him they will be a franc apiece, but that he mustn't mention it. The modest J. H. J. blushes, and buys, in spite of some misgiving that for anybody else they would be about sixpence a dozen.] [Illustration: OUR COMPATRIOTS ABROAD SCENE--_A Table d'hôte_ _Aristocratic English Lady_ (_full of diplomatic relations_). "A--can you tell me if there is a resident British Minister here?" _Scotch Tourist._ "Well, I'm not just quite sure--but I'm told there's an excellent Presbyterian service every Sunday!"] WONDERS OF THE WORLD ABROAD Wonder if there be an inn upon the Continent where you are furnished gratis with a cake of soap and bed candle. Wonder how many able-bodied English waiters it would take to do the daily work of half a dozen French ones. Wonder why it is that Great (and Little) Britons are so constantly heard grumbling at the half a score of dishes in a foreign bill of fare, while at home they have so frequently to feed upon cold mutton. Wonder what amount of beer a German tourist daily drinks, and how many half-pint glasses a waiter at Vienna can carry at a time without spilling a drop out of them. Wonder how it is that, although one knows full well that many Paris people are most miserably poor, one never sees such ragged scarecrows in its streets as are visible in London. Wonder how many successive ages must elapse ere travellers abroad enjoy the luxury of salt-spoons. Wonder why so many tourists, and particularly ladies, will persist in speaking French, with a true Britannic accent, when the waiter so considerately answers them in English. Wonder when our foreign friends, who are in most things so ingenious, will direct their ingenuity to the art of drainage coupled with deodorising fluids. Wonder if there be a watering-place in France where there is no Casino, and where Frenchmen may be seen engaged in any game more active than dominoes or billiards. Wonder when it will be possible to get through seven courses at a foreign _table d'hôte_ without running any risk of seeing one's fair neighbour either eating with her knife or wiping her plate clean by sopping bread into the gravy. Wonder what would be the yearly increase of deafness in Great Britain, if our horses all had bells to jangle on their harness, and our drivers all were seized with the mania for whip-cracking, which possesses in such fury all the coachmen on the Continent. Wonder in what century the historian will relate that a Frenchman was seen walking in the country for amusement. Wonder why it is that when one calls a Paris waiter, he always answers, "V'la, M'sieu," and then invariably vanishes. Wonder when Swiss tourists will abstain from buying alpenstocks which they don't know how to use, and which are branded with the names of mountains they would never dare to dream of trying to do more than timidly look up to. Wonder in what age of progress a sponge-bath will be readily obtainable abroad, in places most remote, and where Britons least do congregate. Wonder if French ladies, who are as elegant in their manners as they are in their millinery, will ever acquire the habit of eating with their lips shut. Wonder when it will be possible to travel on the Rhine, without hearing feeble jokelets made about the "rhino." [Illustration: _Mrs. Vanoof_ (_shopping in Paris_). "Now let me see what you've got extra special." _Salesman._ "Madam, we 'ave some ver' fine Louis treize." _Mr. Vanoof._ "Trays, man! What do we want with trays!" _Mrs. Vanoof._ "Better try one or two; they're only a louis."] [Illustration: L'AXONG D'ALBIONG "Oh--er--pardong, Mossoo--may kelly le shmang kilfoker j'ally poor ally Allycol Militair?" "Monsieur, je ne comprends pas l'Anglais, malheureusement!" [_Our British Friend is asking for the way to the École Militaire._ ] [Illustration: BREAKING THE ICE SCENE--_Public drawing-room of hotel in the Engadine._ _The Hon. Mrs. Snobbington (to fair stranger)._ "English people are so unsociable, and never speak to each other without an introduction. I always make a point of being friendly with people staying at the same hotel. One need never know them afterwards!"] [Illustration: "TIP" NOT GOOD ENOUGH The Delamere-Browns, who have been spending their honeymoon trip in France, have just taken their seats on the steamer, agreeably conscious of smart clothes and general well-being, when to them enters breathlessly, Françoise, the "bonne" from the hotel, holding on high a very dirty comb with most of its teeth missing. _Françoise (dashing forward with her sweetest smile)._ "Tiens! J'arrive juste à point! Voilà un peigne que madame a laissé dans sa chambre!" [_Tableau!_ ] [Illustration: 'ARRY IN 'OLLAND _'Arry._ "I say, Bill, ain't he a rum lookin' cove?"] [Illustration: A BATH AT BOULOGNE Appalling position of Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins, who had a jib horse when the tide was coming in.] [Illustration: "STRANGERS YET" _First Compatriot_ (_in Belgian café_). "I beg your pardon, sirr. Are ye an Irishman?" _Second Compatriot._ "I am!" [_Silence._ _First Compatriot._ "I'd as soon meet a crocodile as an Irishman 'foreign parts. I beg ye'll not address yer conversation to me, sirr!!"] [Illustration] AN IDYLLIC ISLAND When we came to Amsterdam, we determined, Pashley, Shirtliff and I, that we would take the earliest opportunity of seeing Marken. Wonderful place, by all accounts. Little island, only two miles from mainland, full of absolutely unsophisticated inhabitants. Most of them have never left Marken--no idea of the world beyond it! Everybody contented and equal; costumes quaint; manners simple and dignified. Sort of Arcadia, with dash of Utopia. And here we are--actually at Marken, just landed by sailing-boat from Monnickendam. All is peaceful and picturesque. Scattered groups of little black cottages with scarlet roofs, on mounds. Fishermen strolling about in baggy black knickerbockers, woollen stockings, and wooden shoes. Women and girls all dressed alike, in crimson bodice and embroidered skirt; little cap with one long brown curl dangling coquettishly in front of each ear. Small children--miniature replicas of their elders--wander lovingly, hand in hand. A few urchins dart off at our approach, like startled fawns, and disappear amongst the cottages. Otherwise, our arrival attracts no attention. The women go on with their outdoor work, cleaning their brilliant brass and copper, washing and hanging out their bright-hued cotton and linen garments, with no more than an occasional shy side-glance at us from under their tow-coloured fringes. "Perfectly unconscious," as Shirtliff observes, enthusiastically, "of how unique and picturesque they are!" All the more wonderful, because excursion steamers run every day during the season from Amsterdam. We walk up and down rough steps and along narrow, winding alleys. Shirtliff says he "feels such a bounder, going about staring at everything as if he was at Earl's Court." Thinks the Markeners must hate being treated like a show. _We_ shouldn't like it ourselves! That may be, but, as Pashley retorts, it's the Markeners' own fault. They shouldn't be so beastly picturesque. Fine buxom girl approaches, carrying pail. On closer view, not precisely a girl--in fact, a matron of mature years. These long, brown side-curls deceptive at a distance; impression, as she passes, of a kind of Dutch "Little Toddlekins"; view of broad back and extensive tract of fat, bare neck under small cap. She turns round and intimates by expressive pantomime that her cottage is close by, and if we would care to inspect the interior, we are heartily welcome. Uncommonly friendly of her. Pashley and I are inclined to accept, but Shirtliff dubious--we may have misunderstood her. We really can't go crowding in like a parcel of trippers! Little Toddlekins, however, quite keen about it; sees us hesitate, puts down pail and beckons us on round corner with crooked forefinger, like an elderly Siren. How different this simple, hearty hospitality from the sort of reception foreigners would get from an English fishwife! We can't refuse, or we shall hurt her feelings. "But whatever we do," urges Shirtliff, "we mustn't dream of offering her money. She'd be most tremendously insulted." [Illustration] Of course, we quite understand _that_. It would be simply an outrage. We uncover, and enter, apologetically. Inside, an elderly fisherman is sitting by the hearth mending a net; a girl is leaning in graceful, negligent attitude against table by window. Neither of them takes the slightest notice of us, which is embarrassing. Afraid we really _are_ intruding. However, our hostess--good old soul--has a natural tact and kindliness that soon put us at our ease. Shows us everything. Curtained recesses in wall, where they go to bed. "Very curious--so comfortable!" Delft plates and painted shelves and cupboards. "Most decorative!" Caps and bodices worn by females of the family. "Charming; such artistic colour!" School copybooks with children's exercises. "Capital; so neatly written!" What is she trying to make us understand? Oh, in winter, the sea comes in above the level of the wainscot. "Really! How very convenient!" We don't mean this, but we are so anxious to please and be pleased, that our enthusiasm is degenerating into drivel. Girl by the window contemplates us with growing contempt; and no wonder. High time we went. Little Toddlekins at the end of her tether; looks at us as if to imply that she has done _her_ part. Next move must come from us. Pashley consults us in an undertone. "Perhaps, after all she _does_ expect, eh? What do _we_ think? Would half a gulden---- What?" Personally, I think it _might_, but Shirtliff won't hear of it, "Certainly not. On no account! At all events _he_'ll be no party to it. He will simply thank her, shake hands, and walk out." Which he does. I do the same. He may be right, and anyhow, if one of us is to run the risk of offending this matron's delicacy by the offer of a gratuity, Pashley will do it better than I. [Illustration] Pashley overtakes us presently, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Did he tip her?" "Yes, he _tipped_ her." "And she flung it after you!" cries Shirtliff, in triumph. "I knew she would! _Now_ I hope you're satisfied!" "If I am, it's more than _she_ was," says Pashley. "She stuck to it all right, but she let me see it was nothing like what she'd expected for the three of us." Shirtliff silent but unconvinced. However, as we go on, we see a beckoning forefinger at almost every door and window. Every Markener anxious that we should walk into his little parlour--and pay for the privilege. All of them, as Pashley disgustedly observes, "On the make"; got some treasured heirloom that has been in the family without intermission for six months, and that they would be willing to part with, if pressed, for a consideration. We don't press them; in fact, we are obliged at last to decline their artless invitations--to their unconcealed disgust. Nice people, very, but can't afford to know too many of them. "At least the _children_ are unspoilt," says Shirtliff, as we come upon a couple of chubby infants, walking solemnly hand in hand as usual. He protests, when Pashley insists on presenting them with a cent, or one-fifth of an English penny, apiece. "Why demoralise them, why instil the love of money into their innocent minds?" Shirtliff wants to know. He is delighted when they exhibit no sort of emotion on being thus enriched. It shows, he says, that, as yet, they have no conception what money means. The pair have toddled off towards a gathering of older children, and Pashley, who has brought a Kodak, wonders if he can induce them to stay as they are while he takes a snapshot. Shirtliff protests again. Only spoil them, make them conceited and self-conscious, he maintains. But the children have seen the Kodak, and are eager to be taken. One of them produces a baby from neighbouring cottage, and they arrange themselves instinctively in effective group by a fence. Pashley delighted. "Awfully intelligent little beggars!" he says. "They seem to know exactly what I want." They also know exactly what _they_ want, for the moment they hear the camera click, they make a rush at us, sternly demanding five cents a head for their services. Shirtliff very severe with them; not one copper shall they have from _him;_ not a matter of pence, but principle, and they had better go away at once. They don't; they hustle him, and some of the taller girls nudge him viciously in the ribs with sharp elbows, as a hint that "an immediate settlement is requested." Pashley and I do the best we can, but we soon come to the end of our Dutch coins. However, no doubt English pennies will---- Not a bit of it! Even the chubby infants don't consider them legal tender here, and reject them with open scorn. Fancy we have compromised all claims at last. No; Marken infantry still harassing our rear. What _more_ do they want? It appears that we have not paid the baby, which is an important extra on these occasions, and which they carry after us in state as an unsatisfied creditor and a powerful appeal to our consciences. Adult Markeners come out, and seem to be exchanging remarks (with especial reference to Shirtliff, who is regarded as the chief culprit) on the meanness that is capable of bilking an innocent baby. "What I like about Marken," says Pashley, when we are safely on board our sailing boat, to which we have effected a rather ignominious retreat, "what I like about Marken is the beautiful simplicity and unworldliness of the natives. Didn't that strike _you_, Shirtliff?" We gather from Shirtliff's reply that he failed to observe these characteristics. * * * AT MUNICH.--_Mr. Joddletop_ (_to travelling companion at Bierhalle_). What they call this larger beer for I'm blessed if I know! Why, it's thinner than the Bass I drink at home! * * * _Mrs. Tripper_ (_examining official notice on the walls of Boulogne_). What's that mean, Tripper, "Pas de Calais"? _Tripper (who is proud of his superior acquaintance with a foreign language)._ It means--"Nothing to do with Calais," my dear. These rival ports are dreadfully jealous of one another! * * * VERY MUCH ABROAD.--_Brown._ I say, Smith, you've been here before. Tell me where I can get a first dish of _Tête de veau?_ _Smith._ _Tête de veau?_ Let's see, that's "calf's head," isn't it? Well, I heard of a place where they ought to have it good, as they call it the _Hôtel de Veal_. [Illustration: _He._ "You climed ze Matterhorn? Zat was a great foot." _She._ "Great feat, you mean, count." _He._ "Ah! Zen you climed him more as once!"] COURTESY À LA SUISSE ["The recent complaints of the rudeness shown to English travellers in Switzerland by the natives has been officially denied by the authorities of Lucerne."--_Daily Paper._] _You are an idiot, a fool, and a rascal._ (_Official explanation._) Terms of endearment denoting feeling of the utmost friendship. _Why do you come here? Why don't you stay at home?_ (_Official explanation._) Merely questions asked to stimulate pleasant conversation. _You are a rosbif, a boule dogue, and plum-pudding._ (_Official interpretation._) Fine names intended to express the greatest possible admiration for British institutions. _If you speak we will knock you down._ (_Official interpretation._) Merely a kindly expression of concern calculated to produce repose. _You are one brutal, ugly-faced foreigner._ (_Official interpretation._) A jocular salutation. _You sell your wife at Smithfield--Long live the Boers!_ (_Official interpretation._) A polite attempt to commence a courteous conversation. _Are you English?_ (_Official interpretation._) The highest praise imaginable. [Illustration: PERFECT TRANSLATION _Youthful North Briton_ (_on honeymoon tour, proud of his French_). "Gassong! La--le--le--cart----" _Garçon._ "Oui, m'sieu', tout de suite!" _Admiring Bride._ "Losh! Sandy, what did he say?" _Youthful North Briton_ (_rather taken aback_). "Aweel, Jeannie, dear, he kens I'm Scotch, an' he asked me to 'tak' a seat.'"] [Illustration: DIEPPE--MOSSOO LEARNING TO FLOAT] [Illustration: Our friend, 'Arry Belville, is so knocked all of a heap by the beauty of the foreign fish girls, that he offers his 'and and 'art to the lovely Pauline.] [Illustration: A SKETCH AT TROUDEAUVILLE After the bath, the Count and Countess de St. Camembert have a little chat with their friends before dressing; and Monsieur Roucouly, the famous baritone, smokes a quiet cigarette, ere he plunges into the sandy ripple.] THE DAMSELS OF DIEPPE _Or, The Legend of Lionel_ "Newhaven to Dieppe," he cried, but, on the voyage there, He felt appalling qualms of what the French call _mal de mer;_ While, when the steward was not near, he struck Byronic attitudes, And made himself most popular by pretty little platitudes. And, while he wobbled on the waves, be sure they never slep', While waiting for their Lionel, the Damsels of Dieppe. He landed with a jaunty air, but feeling rather weak, While all the French and English girls cried out "_C'est magnifique!_" They reck'd not of his bilious hue, but murmur'd quite ecstatical, "Blue coat, brass buttons, and straw hat--c'est _tout-à-fait_ piratical!" He hadn't got his land-legs, and he walked with faltering step, But still they thought it _comme-il-faut_, those Damsels of Dieppe. The Douane found him circled round by all the fairest fair, The while he said, in lofty tones, he'd nothing to declare; He turned to one girl who stood near, and softly whisper'd "Fly, O Nell!" But all the others wildly cried, "Give us a chance, O Lionel!" And thus he came to shore from all the woes of Father Nep., With fatal fascinations for the Damsels of Dieppe. He went to the Casino, whither mostly people go, And lost his tin at baccarat and eke _petits chevaux;_ And still the maidens flocked around, and vowed he was amusing 'em; And borrowed five-franc pieces, just for fear he should be losing 'em; And then he'd sandwiches and bocks, which brought on bad dyspep- -sia for Lionel beloved by Damsels of Dieppe. As bees will swarm around a hive, the maids of _La belle France_ Went mad about our Lionel and thirsted for his glance; In short they were reduced unto a state of used-up coffee lees By this mild, melancholic, maudlin, mournful Mephistopheles. He rallied them in French, in which he had the gift of rep- -artee, and sunnily they smiled, the Damsels of Dieppe. At last one day he had to go; they came upon the pier; The French girls sobbed, "_Mon cher!_" and then the English sighed, "My dear!" He looked at all the threatening waves, and cried, the while embracing 'em, (I mean the girls, not waves,) "Oh no! I don't feel quite like facing 'em!" And all the young things murmured, "Stay, and you will find sweet rep- aration for the folks at home in Damsels of Dieppe." And day by day, and year by year, whene'er he sought the sea, The waves were running mountains high, the wind was blowing free. At last he died, and o'er his bier his sweethearts sang doxology, And vowed they saw his ghost, which came from dabbling in psychology. And to this hour that spook is seen upon the pier. If scep- tical, ask ancient ladies, once the Damsels of Dieppe. * * * TO INTENDING TOURISTS.--"Where shall we go?" All depends on the "coin of 'vantage." Switzerland? Question of money. Motto.--"_Point d'argent point de Suisse._" * * * AT INTERLACHEN.--_Cockney Tourist to Perfect Stranger_. Must 'ave been a 'ard frost 'ere last night, sir. _Perfect Stranger_ (_startled_). Dear me! Why? _Cockney Tourist._ Why, look at the top of that there 'ill, sir (_points to the Jung Frau_). Ain't it covered with snow! [Illustration: "NO PLACE LIKE HOME!" _Smith_ (_meeting the Browns at the station on their return from the Continent_). "Delighted to see you back, my boy! But--well, and how did you like Italy?" _Mrs. B._ (_who is "artistic"_). "Oh, charming, you know, the pictures and statues and all that! But Charles had typhoid for six weeks at Feverenze (our hotel was close to that glorious Melfizzi Palazzo, y'know), and after that I caught the Roman fever, and so," &c., &c. [_They think they go to Ramsgate next year._] [Illustration: STUDY AT A QUIET FRENCH WATERING-PLACE "Now, then, mossoo, your form is of the manliest beauty, and you are altogether a most attractive object; but you've stood there long enough. So jump in and have done with it!"] [Illustration: Strange vagaries of a pair of moustaches. Sketched in Holland on a windy day.] [Illustration: SIR GORGIUS ON THE "CONTINONG" _Sir G. Midas_ (_to his younger son_). "There's a glass o' champagne for yer, 'Enry! Down with it, my lad--and thank 'Eaven you're an Englishman, and can afford to drink it!"] VENEZIA LA BELLA [According to a correspondent of the _Times_, it is proposed to erect bridges connecting Venice with the mainland.] One afternoon in the autumn of 1930, when the express from Milan arrived at Venice an Englishman stepped out, handed his luggage ticket to a porter, and said, "_Hotel Tiziano_." "_Adesso Hotel Moderno, signore_," remarked the porter. "They've changed the name, I suppose. All right. _Hotel Moderno, gondola._" "_Che cosa, signore?_" asked the porter, apparently confused, "_gon--, gondo--, non capisco. Hotel Moderno, non è vero?_" And he led the way to the outside, where the Englishman perceived a wide, asphalted street. "_Ecco là, signore, la stazione sotterranea del Tubo dei Quattro Soldi; ecco qui la tramvia elettrica, e l'omnibus dell' hotel._" "_Gondola_," repeated the Englishman. The porter stared at him again. Then he shook his head and answered, "_Non capisco, signore, non parlo inglese_." So the Englishman entered the motor omnibus, started at once, for there were no other travellers, and in a few minutes arrived at the hotel, designed by an American architect and fifteen stories in height. The gorgeous marble and alabaster entrance-hall was entirely deserted. Having engaged a room, the Englishman asked for a guide. The hall porter, who spoke ten languages fluently and simultaneously, murmured some words into a telephone, and almost immediately a dapper little man presented himself with an obsequious bow. "I want to go round the principal buildings," said the Englishman. "You speak English, of course." "Secure, sir," answered the guide, with another bow; "alls the ciceronians speaks her fine language, but her speak I as one English. Lets us go to visit the Grand Central Station of the Tube." "Oh, no," said the Englishman, "not that sort of thing! I'm not an engineer. I should like to see the Doge's Palace." "Lo, sir! The Palace is now the _Stazione Centrale Elettrica_." "Then it's no good going to see that. I will go to St. Mark's." "San Marco is shutted, sir. The _vibrazione_ of the elettrical mechanism has done fall the mosaics. The to visit is become too periculous." "Oh, indeed! Well, we can go up the Grand Canal." "The _Canal Grande_, sir, is now the _Via Marconi_. Is all changed, and covered, as all the olds canals of Venezia, with arches of steel and a street of _asfalto_. Is fine, fine, _è bella, bella, una via maravigliosa"!_ "You don't mean to say there isn't a canal left? Where are the gondolas then?" "_An, una gondola!_ The sir is _archeologo_. _Ebbene!_ We shalls go to the _Museo_. There she shall see one gondola, much curious, and old, ah, so old!" "Not a canal, not a gondola--except in the museum! What is there to see?" "There is much, sir. There is the Tube of the Four Halfpennies, _tutto all' inglese_, as at London. He is on the arches of steel below the news streets. There is the bridge from the city to Murano, one span of steel all covered of stone much thin, as the _Ponte della Torre_, the Bridge of the Tower, at London. Is marvellous, the our bridge! Is one bridge, and not of less not appear to be one bridge, but one castle of the middle age in the middle air. _È bellissimo, e anche tutto all' inglese._ And then----" "Stop," cried the Englishman. "Does anybody ever come to your city now? Any artists, for instance?" "Ah, no, sir! _Pittori, scultori, perche?_ But there are voyagers some time. The month past all the Society of the Engineers of Japan are comed, and the hotels were fulls, and all those sirs were much contenteds and sayed the city was marvellous. She shall go now, sir, to visit the bridge?" "No," said the Englishman, emphatically, "not I! Let me pay my bill here and your fee, whatever it is, and take me back to the railway station as fast as you can. There are plenty of bridges in London. I am going back there." * * * AT BRUSSELS.--_Mrs. Trickleby_ (_pointing to announcement in grocer's window, and spelling it out_). _Jambon d' Yorck._ What's that mean, Mr. T.? _Mr. T._ (_who is by way of being a linguist_). Why, good Yorkshire preserves, of course. What did you suppose it was--Dundee marmalade? [Illustration: 'ARRY IN 'OLLAND "These 'ere cigars at three a 'na'penny 'as just as delicate a flavour as them as we pays a penny a piece for at 'ome!"] [Illustration: L'EMBARRAS DES RICHESSES. AT THE CAFÉ DES AMBASSADEURS _The Garsong_ (_to Jones and Brown, from Clapham_). "But your dinner, gentlemans! He go to make 'imself cold, if you eat 'im not!"] 'ARRY IN SWITZERLAND DEAR CHARLIE,--You heard as I'd left good old England agen, I'll be bound. Not for Parry alone, mate, this time--I've bin doing the Reglar Swiss Round. Mong Blong, Mare de Glass, and all that, Charlie--guess it's a sight you'd enjoy To see 'Arry, the Hislington Masher, togged out as a Merry Swiss Boy. 'Tis a bit of a stretch from the "Hangel," a jolly long journey by rail. But I made myself haffable like; I'd got hup on the toppingest scale; Shammy-hunter at Ashley's not in it with me, I can tell yer, old chap; And the way as the passengers stared at me showed I wos fair on the rap. Talk of hups and downs, Charlie! North Devon I found pooty steep, as you know. But wot's Lynton roads to the Halps, or the Torrs to that blessed Young Frow? I got 'andy with halpenstocks, Charlie, and never came _much_ of a spill; But I think, arter all, that, for comfort, I rayther prefer Primrose 'Ill. But that's _ontry nous_, dont cher know; keep my pecker hup proper out 'ere. 'Arry never let on to them Swiss as he felt on the swivel--no fear! When I slipped down a bloomin' _crevassy_, I _did_ do a bit of a 'owl, On them glasheers, to keep your foot fair, you want claws, like a cat on the prowl. Got arf smothered in snow, and no kid, Charlie--guide swore 'twas all my hown fault, 'Cos I would dance, and sing _too-ral-li-ety_, arter he'd hordered a halt. Awful gonophs, them guides, and no herror; they don't know their place not a mite, And I'm dashed if this cad didn't laugh (with the rest), 'cos I looked sich a sight. * * * AT OSTEND.--_Biffles_ (_to Tiffles_). In this bloomin' country everyone's a prince or a marquis or a baron or a nob of some sort, so I've just shoved you down in the Visitors' Book as Lord Harthur MacOssian, and me as the Dook of FitzDazzlem! _Tiffles._ Well, now, that is a lark! What'd our missuses say? [_And what did their "Missuses" say when B. and T., held in pawn by the hotel proprietor (charging aristocratic prices), had to write home to Peckham Rye for considerable advances from the family treasuries?_ [Illustration: "'E DUNNO OÙ IL EST!" _Passenger from London_ (_as the train runs into the Gare du Nord, Paris_). "Oh--er--I say--er--garsong! Kel ay le nomme du set plass?"] SUR LA PLAGE [Illustration: AN OLD FASHIONED WATERING-PLACE] _Sur la Plage!_ and here are dresses, shining eyes, and golden tresses, Which the cynic sometimes guesses are not quite devoid of art; There's much polyglottic chatter 'mid the folks that group and scatter, And men fancy that to flatter is to win a maiden's heart. 'Tis a seaside place that's Breton, with the rocks the children get on, And the ceaseless surges fret on all the silver-shining sand; Wave and sky could scarce be bluer, and the wily Art-reviewer Would declare the tone was truer than a seascape from Brett's hand. And disporting in the waters are the fairest of Eve's daughters, Each aquatic gambol slaughters the impulsive sons of France, While they gaze with admiration at the mermaids' emulation, And the high feats of natation at fair Dinard on the Rance. There are gay casino dances, where, with Atalanta glances That ensnare a young man's fancies, come the ladies one by one; Every look is doubly thrilling in the mazes of quadrilling, And, like _Barkis_, we are willing, ere the magic waltz is done. And at night throng Fashion's forces where the merry little horses Run their aggravating courses throughout all the Season's height; Is the sea a play-provoker?--for the bard is not a joker When he vows the game of poker goeth on from morn till night. There St. Malo walls are frowning,--'twas immortalised by Browning, When he wrote the ballad crowning with the laurel Hervé Riel; With ozone each nerve that braces, pleasant strolls, and pretty faces, Sure, of all fair seaside places, Breton Dinard bears the bell! * * * COMPENSATION,--"Ullo, Jones! You in _Paris!_" "Yes, I've just run over for a holiday." "Where's your wife?" "Couldn't come, poor dear. Had to stop at home on account of the baby!" "Why, your holiday will be half spoiled!" "Yes. Mean to stay twice as long, to make up!" [Illustration: 'ARRY IN ST. PETERSBURG He tries to make a droski-driver understand that he could have gone the same distance in a hansom for less money.] AT PARIS.--_Professed Linguist._ Look here! Moi et un otrer Mossoo--a friend of mine--desirong der go par ler seven o'clock train à Cologne. Si nous leaverong the hotel at six o'clock et ung demy, shall nous catcherong le train all right? Comprenny voo? Voo parly Français, don't you? You understand French, eh? _Polite Frenchman_ (_who speaks the English_). I understand the French? Ah yase! Sometimes, monsieur! [Illustration: A LITTLE DUOLOGUE ON THE QUAY AT BOULOGNE-SUR-MER] [Illustration: HARRY'S SON'S HOLIDAY REMINISCENCES--SWITZERLAND (Drorn all by himself, and signed "Harry's Son")] WHAT TOURISTS NOTE (_Supplementary Facts--omitted from the Times List_) That everything is so much better on the Continent. That the proverbially polite Frenchman never smokes before ladies in a railway carriage. That not for worlds would he shut the window in your face and glare at you if you ask for a little air. That no official ever seen through a pigeon-hole at a post bureau is dyspeptic and insolent. That sanitary improvements in Italy do not mean typhoid fever. That where your bed-room walls are of paper, and somebody on one side of you retires in good spirits at two, and somebody else on the other gets up lively at four, you have a refreshing night's rest. That rambling parties of Cook's tourists add immensely to the national _prestige_. That the discovery of what it is you eat in a _vol-au-vent_ at a "_diner à trois francs_," will please but not surprise you. That it is such fun being caged-up in a railway waiting-room, and then being allowed to scamper for your life to the carriages. That perpetual fighting to get into over-crowded hotels, crammed with vulgar specimens of your own fellow-countrymen, is really enjoyable and exhilarating work. That a couple of journeys across the Channel, especially if it is blowing both ways, are at least always something pleasant to look back upon. That when you once get home again, England, spite some trivial advantages, being without Belgian postmen, French omnibuses, and Swiss police-regulations, strikes you as almost unendurable. * * * AT MONTE CARLO.--_Angelina_ (_sentimentally_). Look, Edwin, how the dear palms are opening themselves instinctively to the golden air. _Edwin_ (_brutally remembering his losses at the table and the long hotel bill_). If you can show me any palm in the place, human or vegetable, which doesn't open itself instinctively to the golden air, I'll eat my hat! [_Angelina sighed profoundly, and Edwin opened his purse strings._ [Illustration: A SCENE AT THE "LUCULLUS" _Mrs. Blunderby._ "Now, my dear Monty, let me order the luncheon ar-la-Fraingsy. Gassong! I wish to begin--as we always do in Paris, my dears--with some _chef-d'[oe]uvres_--you understand--some _chef-d'[oe]uvres_." [_Emile, the waiter, is in despair. It occurs to him, however, presently that the lady probably means "Hors d'[oe]uvres," and acts accordingly._ ] [Illustration: 'ARRY AND 'ARRIET IN FRANCE "What's 'Rots'?" "Game."] BEAUTIES OF BOLOGNA Not those, along the route prescribed To see them in a hurry, Church, palace, gallery, described By worthy Mr. Murray. Nor those detailed as well by whom But Baedeker, the German; The choir, the nave, the font, the tomb, The pulpit for the sermon. No tourist traps which tire you out, A never-ending worry; Most interesting things, no doubt, Described by Mr. Murray. Nor yet, O gastronomic mind-- In cookery a boss, sage In recipes--you will not find, I mean Bologna sausage. Not beauties, which, perhaps, you class With your own special curry; Not beauties, which we must not pass If led by Mr. Murray. I sing--alas, how very ill!-- Those beauties of the city, The praise of whose dark eyes might fill A much more worthy ditty. O, Ladies of Bologna, who The coldest heart might flurry, I much prefer to study you Than Baedeker or Murray. Those guide-book sights no longer please; Three hours still, _tre ore_, I have to lounge and look at these _Bellissime signore_. Then slow express--South Western goes Much faster into Surrey-- Will take me off to other shows Described by Mr. Murray. But still, _Signore_, there will be, By your sweet faces smitten, One Englishman who came to see What Baedeker has written. Let Baedeker then see the lot In frantic hurry-scurry. I've found some beauties which are not Described by Mr. Murray. * * * OVERHEARD AT CHAMONIX.--_Stout British Matron_ (_in a broad British accent, to a slim diligence driver_). Êtes-vous la diligence? _Driver._ Non, madame, mais j'en suis le cocher. _Matron_ (_with conviction_). C'est la même chose; gardez pour moi trois places dans votre intérieur demain. [Illustration: UN BON MAUVAIS QUART D'HEURE (Waiting for one's bathing tent at the Dieppe casino)] [Illustration: "IN SUNNY NORMANDY" _First Tourist._ "I say, old chap, it smells pretty bad about here; it's the river, I suppose?" _Second Tourist._ "Yes--Seine _Inférieure_."] [Illustration: POP! POP! (SCENE--_Restaurant in Switzerland_) _Tourist_ (_to manager, who knows English_). "There are two bottles of wine in our bill. We had only one bottle." _Manager._ "Ach, he is a new waiter, and zee confounded echo of zee mountain must have deceived zee garçon."] [Illustration: SUCCESSFUL SANITATION _Anxious Tourist._ "Since your town has been newly drained, I suppose there is less fever here?" _Hotel-Keeper_ (_reassuringly_). "Ach, yes, sir! Ze teefoose (typhus) is now quite _ze exception!_"] [Illustration: A CONTINENTAL TRIP _First Man_ (_tasting beer_). "Hullo! I ordered lager. This isn't lager!" _Second Man_ (_tasting_). "No; but it's jolly good, all the same!" _Third Man_ (_tasting_). "C'est magnifique! mais ce n'est pas lager-r-r!"] MRS. R. ON BOULOGNE-SUR-MER Mrs. Ramsbotham, who has been staying at Boulogne for a short time, writes as follows:-- [Illustration] "Bullown-some-Air is, I am informed, not what it used to be, though the smells must be pretty much as always, which is not the scent of rheumatic spices. It's called Bullown-some-Air because if the sea-breeze wasn't too powerful for the smells, living would be impossible. Many of the visitors to the hotels on the Key told me the bedrooms were full of musketeers, who came in when the candle went out, and bit them all over. Such a sight as one poor gentleman was! He reminded me of the Spotted Nobleman at the Agrarian in Westminster. Then, on the Sunday I was there, a day as I had always been given to understand the French were 'tray gay,' there was actually no music, no band, no concert, and in fact no amusement whatever at the _Establishmong day Bangs_ (so called because there's a shooting-gallery next it, where they bang away all day at so much a head), which might as well have been closed, as there was no race-game (of which I had heard so much), no Tom Bowling[A] (they wouldn't get up a Tom Bowling unless there were nine persons present, which Mr. Hackson says is much the same as when magistrates meet and there isn't a sufficient number to make a jorum), and only one gentleman trying to produce another to play billiards with him. "There was a theatre open. Not being a Samaritan myself, though as strict as anyone as to my own regular religious diversions at church, I let Mr. Hackson take myself and Lavinia to see _The Clogs of Cornwall_, which, I think, was the name of the opera, though, as I hadn't a bill, and didn't understand one quarter of what they were saying--not but what I was annoyed by Lavvy and Mr. Hackson always turning round to explain the jokes to me--I confess I did not see what either _Cornwall_ or _Clogs_ had to do with the story. The singing and the acting was worse than anything I'd ever met with at an English seaside theatre, because a place like Bullown ought to have a theatre as good as the one at Brighton. The customs worn by the actors were ugly, and when the lover, who was intended for a sailor--though his dress wasn't at all _de rigger_--said, confidentially, to the audience, alluding to an unfortunately plain young person who played the part of the Herring, "She is lovely!" there was a loud laugh, or, as Mr. Hackson, who speaks French perfectly, called it, a _levy de reedo_, all over the house, and this emulating from people who, I always thought, were remarkable for their politeness, was about the rudest thing I ever heard done to a public character in a playhouse. "The place was hot, and the seats uncomfortable; so that after two acts, which was more like being in a penitentiary than a place of recrimination, we left, and went to our hotel, where, there being nothing more to do than there was anywhere else, Lavinia and myself retired to rest--that is, such rest as the musketeers would allow us. She slept in a back cupboard, called a _cabinet de Twilight_, because it was so dark and scarcely any veneration, there being no fireplace, and only such a window, as it was healthier to keep shut than open: but she had the advantage over me in not being troubled by any musketeers. There was only one of them in my room, and when I heard him singing away like a couple of gnats, I hid under the bedclothes, and he couldn't find me till I came up again for air, like a fish, and then he bit me on the forehead. "Next morning we went to breakfast '_à la four sheets_' they call it, on account of the size of the table-napkins, at the _Rest-wrongs_ on the pier. The time they kept us! as there was only one _gossoon_ to about twenty persons. The best thing we had there was our own appetite, which we brought with us. "After this there was nothing doing in the place till dinner-time (called _table doat_ because they're so fond of it), and after that there was a dull concert at the _Establishmong_, and as Mr. Hackson told us, who went there, a dull dance and poor fireworks at the Artillery Gardens in the _Oat Veal_. The '_Oat Veal_' is French for the high part of the town, but, judging from the smells on and about the Key, I should say that our hotel was situated in quite the highest part of the town. "Less than a week at Bullown was quite enough and too much for us. If Sunday here were only lively, it would be a nice change from London, or Dover, or Folkestone, or Ramsgate, as I do not know a pleasanter and easier way to go than starting by the London, Chatting and Dover train at 10 A.M. from Victoria or Holborn Viaduct, arriving at Dover at twelve. Then by one of the comfortablest boats I was ever in, called the _Inflicter_ or _Invigorator_, I couldn't catch which, but Mr. Hackson told me it was Latin for 'unconquered,' which takes you, if it's a fine day and wind and tide favourable, in an hour and a quarter to Callous (or Kally in French), and if you are only going on to Bullown, you have your luggage examined (as if you were a smuggling brigadier!), and you have more than an hour for lunch before you start again. The luncheon at the Kallyous buffy is excellent, and the buffers, who speak English with hardly any accident, are most attentive. Then, when you've finished, you start for Bullown by the 2.45 train, and are at your hotel by 3.30 or thereabouts, which is what I call doing it uxuriously. "But Bullown, as Mr. Hackson said to me, requires some _ongterprenner_, which means 'an undertaker,' to look after it, as it has become so deadly-lively. I think this must be a joke of Mr. Hackson's, one of his _caramboles_, as they call them in French, as what Bullown wants is waking up. As it is now, Bullown is a second-class place, and will soon be a third-class one, which, as Mr. Hackson says, 'Arry and an inferior dummy-mong will have all to themselves. "Yours truly, "M. A. R." [Footnote A: We fancy Mrs. R. means "_Tombola_."] [Illustration: ENGLISH AS SHE IS WRITTEN During his recent tour in Switzerland, Tomkins, who is rather nervous, had a most terrifying experience.] LINES ON (AND OFF) AN ITALIAN MULE [Illustration] O dubious hybrid, what your patronymic Or pedigree may be, does not much matter; But if my own attire you mean to mimic, And flaunt the fact that you, too, have a hatter-- Well then, in self-defence I'll pick with you A bone or two. Perchance you have a motive, deep, ulterior, In donning head-gear borrowed from banditti? You wish to show an intellect superior, (And hide a profile which is not too pretty? Or is it, simply, you prefer to go Incognito? A transmigrated Balaam's self you may be, But still I bar your method of progression; For while I sit, as helpless as a baby, And scale each precipice in steep succession, You scorn the mule-track, and pursue the edge Of ev'ry ledge. How can I scan with rapt enthusiasm These Alpine heights, when balanced _à la_ Blondin, While you survey with bird's-eye view each chasm? I cry _Eyupp! Avanti!_--_you_ respond in Attempts straightway to improvise a "chute" For me, you brute! _Basta! per Bacco!_ I'll no longer straddle (With cramp in each adductor and extensor) This seat of torture that they call a saddle! _Va via!_ in plain English, get thee hence, or---- On second thoughts, to leave unsaid the rest, I think, were best! [Illustration: "ASTONISHING THE NATIVES" _First Alpine Tourist._ "I say, Will, are you asleep?" _Second Tourist._ "Asleep? No, I should think not! Hang it, how they bite!" _First Tourist._ "Try my dodge. Light your pipe, and blow a cloud under the clothes! They let go directly. There's a lot perched on the foot-bar of my bed now--coughing like mad!"] [Illustration: _Tommy_ (_who has just begun learning French, on his first visit to Boulogne_). "I say, daddy, did you call that man 'garçon'?" _Daddy_ (_with pride_). "Yes, my boy." _Tommy_ (_after reflection_). "I say, daddy, what a big _garçon_ he'll be when he's out of jackets and turn-downs, and gets into tails and stick-ups!"] [Illustration: (_You may speak to anyone in France, even to a bold gendarme--if you are only decently polite_) "I implore your pardon for having deranged you, mister the gendarme, but _might_ I dare to ask you to have the goodness to do me the honour to indicate to me the way for to render myself to the Street of the Cross of the Little-Fields?"] _IN RE_ THE RIGI From a recent letter in the _Times_ it would seem that tourists visiting the hotels on the Rigi have to secure entertainment at the point (or rather the knuckle) of the fist. If the fashion is permitted to become chronic (by the patient endurance of the British public), the diary kept by the visitor to the Rigi is likely to appear in the following form:-- _Tuesday_, 4 A.M.--Just seen the sun rise. Rather cloudy in the valley, but on the whole magnificent. Will stay until to-morrow, as I am sure the air is excellent. 5 A.M.--Going back to the hotel. The night porter is shouting at me. 8 A.M.--Just finished a three hours' fight with the night porter. He scored "first blood" to my "first knock-down blow." I was able to polish him off in forty-seven rounds, and consequently have an excellent appetite for breakfast. 9 A.M.--After some desperate struggling with half-a-dozen waiters, have secured a cup of coffee and a small plate of cold meat. 12 A.M.--Have been asleep on a bench outside the hotel for the last two hours and a half, recovering from my recent exertions. 1 P.M.--Have fraternised with five English tourists armed with alpenstocks. One of our party has opened negotiations with the hotel-keeper as to the possibility of obtaining some lunch. 2 P.M.--Our ambassador has returned with his coat torn into tatters, and one of his eyes severely bruised. 3 P.M.--By a _coup de main_ we have seized the _salle-à-manger_, and now are feasting merrily on bread and honey. 4 P.M.--Just driven from our vantage-ground by eight boots, ten waiters, the landlord and auxiliaries from the kitchen. 6 P.M.--Have spent the last two hours in consultation. 7 P.M.--A spy from our party (assuming the character of an English duke) is just leaving us for the front. 8 P.M.--Our spy has just returned, and reports that when he asked for a room the enemy attacked him with brooms and candlesticks. 9 P.M.--Have just matured our plan of attack. 10 P.M.--Glorious news! A triumphant victory! Our party, in single file, made a descent upon the _table-d'hôte_, seized a large number of _hors d'[oe]uvres_, and, after an hour's desperate fighting, secured a large room on the top floor, where we are now safely barricaded for the night! Hurrah! * * * AT DIEPPE.--_Edwin._ Awfully jolly here! Awfully jolly band! Awfully jolly waltz! Awfully jolly, isn't it? _Angelina._ Quite too awfully nice! _Edwin._ Waltz over. Awfully nice moon! Awfully jolly to be a poet, I should think. Say heaps of civil things about the moon, don't you know! Rather jolly, eh? Tennyson, and that sort of thing, don't you know? _Angelina._ Yes, isn't he a perfect love? _Edwin._ Yes--great fun. Next dance--square. Awfully stupid things--squares, eh? You're not engaged? _Angelina_ (_archly_). Not yet! _Edwin._ Then let's sit it out. [Illustration: PROVINCIAL MOSSOOS IN THEIR SUNDAY BEST] MUDDY MILAN Once I thought that you could boast Such a perfect southern sky, Flecked with summer clouds at most; Always sunny, always dry, Warm enough, perhaps, to grill an Englishman, O muddy Milan! Now I find you soaking wet, Underneath an English sky; Pavements, mediæval yet, Whence mud splashes ever fly; And, to make one damp and ill, an Endless downpour, muddy Milan! Though you boast such works of art, Where is that unclouded sky? Muddy Milan, we must part, I shall gladly say good-bye, Pack, and pay my little bill--an Artless thing--and leave you, Milan. * * * AT BOULOGNE.--_Ted_ (_to 'Arry_). What's the meaning of "avis" on those placards? _'Arry._ There's a question from a feller as 'as studied Latin with me at the Board School! 'Ave you forgotten all about the black swan? It's a notice about birds, of course! [Illustration: _She._ "So, dear baron, you are just come down from the mountains. What lovely views you get there, do you not?" _Herr Baron._ "Most lofly!" _She._ "And what delicious water they give you to drink there!" _Herr Baron._ "Ach, yes. That also haf I _seen_."] [Illustration: A CHOICE OF IDIOMS _Mr. Brown._ "I say, Maria, what's the meaning of '_Sarner fairy hang_,' which I hear you say in all the French shops, when they haven't got what you want--which they never have?" _Mrs. B._ "Oh, it only means '_It's of no consequence_.'" _Mr. B._ "How odd! Now _I_ always say '_Nimport_'! But I dare say it comes to the same in the end."] THEN AND NOW _Before the Holidays_ (_an Anticipation_) Really nothing so pleasant as packing. Such fun to see how many things you can get into a portmanteau. Won't take any books as the "Continong" will be enough for amusement. Capital carriages to Dover. Everything first-rate. Civil guards. Time-table not a dead letter. Splendid boats, smooth sea, and a first-rate _buffet_ at Calais. Dear Paris! Just the place for the inside of a week. Boulevards full of novelties. Theatres in full swing. Evenings outside the _cafés_ perfect happiness. Splendid! _En route._ Swiss scenery, as ever, lovely. Mountains glorious, passes, lakes. Delightful. Nothing can compare with a jaunt through the land of Tell. Italy--dear old Italy. Oh, the blue sky and the _tables d'hôte!_ What more glorious than the ruins of Rome? What more precious than the pictures of Florence? What more restful than the gondolas of Venice? And the people even! The French the pink of politeness. The Swiss homely and kindly. The Italians inheriting the nobility of the Cæsars. And all this to take the place of hard work. Well, it is to come. Bless everybody! _After the Holidays_ (_a Retrospect_) What can be worse than packing? And after all the trouble of shoving things in anywhere, you find you have left half your belongings behind! And of course the books you half read during your weary travels are stopped at the Custom House. Beastly journey from Paris to Calais, and as for the crossing afterwards--well, as long as I live I shall never forget it! Dear Paris! Emphatically "dear," with the accent on the expense. Glad to be out of it. Boulevards deserted. Theatres playing "_relâche_." _Cafés_ deathtraps in the service of the influenza. _En route!_ Who cares for Switzerland--always the same! Eternal mountains--yet coming up promising year after year! Sloppy passes, misty views. Beastly monotonous. The Cantons played out. Italy! Who says Italy? Blue sky not equal to Wandsworth. Rome unhealthy. Art treasures at Florence not equal to collection in South Kensington. Mosquitoes at Venice. And the people! Cheeky French, swindling Swiss, and dirty Italians! And yet this is all to be supplemented by the same hard work. In the collar again. Oh! hang everybody! [Illustration: ALTOGETHER SATISFACTORY _Aunt Fanny._ "I do like these French watering-places. The bathing costume is so sensible!" _Hilda._ "Oh, yes, auntie! And so becoming!"] [Illustration: A MOUNTAINEERING INCIDENT _Voice from above._ "For heaven's sake be more careful, Smith. Remember, _you_'ve got the whiskey!"] [Illustration: TOURING IN ALGIERS _Arab_ (_as Mr. and Mrs. Smith appear_). "Sh! You vant a guide! I am ze best guide in Alger! For five franc I take you to Arab café vare Inglees not 'lowed. For ten franc I show you ze street vare it is dangerous for ze Inglees for to go. And for twenty franc--sh!--I stand you on ze blace vare ze last Inglees tourist vos got shot!" [_Mr. and Mrs. Smith wish they were back in England._] [Illustration: MR. 'ARRY BELVILLE, ON THE CONTINENT GENERALLY _'Arry Belville._ "Yes! I like it extremely. I like the _lazy ally_ sort of feeling. I like sitting at the door of a _caffy_ to smoke my cigar; and above all (_onter noo_) it's a great comfort to wear one's beard without bein' larfed at!"] [Illustration: MONSIEUR, MADAME, ET BÉBE] ADVICE TO ENGLISHMEN ABROAD Excepting for their money, English tourists are perhaps not highly valued on the Continent. We would therefore offer a few practical suggestions, which, now that the tourist season has returned, will be found, no doubt, invaluable to Britons when abroad:-- 1. When you begin inspecting a foreign town or city, it is wise to stalk along the middle of the streets, and make facetious comments on whatever you think funny. Laugh loudly at queer names which you see above shop-windows, especially if their owners, as is frequently the case, are lounging by the doorposts. 2. When you go into a church, strut and stare about as though you were examining a picture exhibition. Display contemptuous pity for the worshippers assembled, and make in a loud voice whatever critical remarks you happen to think proper. 3. If, while you take your walks abroad, you encounter an unfledged and enthusiastic traveller, who daringly attempts to enter into conversation with you, do your best to snub him in recital of his exploits, and render him dissatisfied with his most active feats. Interrupt his narrative with pitying exclamations, such as "Ah, I see! you went by the wrong route;" or, "O, then you _just_ missed _the_ very finest point of view." You may discover, very likely, he has seen much more than you have: but by judicious reticence you may conceal this awkward secret, and render him well-nigh as discontented as yourself. 4. When you are forced to start upon some mountain expedition, let everybody learn what an early bird you are, and awaken them to take a lively interest in your movements. Stamp about your room in your very thickest boots, and, if you have a friend who sleeps a few doors off, keep bellowing down the passage at the tiptop of your voice, although there may be invalids in plenty within earshot. 5. Should you gallantly be acting as a _courrier des dames_, mind that your lady friends are called an hour sooner than they need to be. A pleasant agitation will be thus caused near their bedrooms. They will amuse those sleeping next them with an incessant small talk, and, as their maid will be dispatched on endless little errands, their door will be heard creaking and banging-to incessantly until they clatter downstairs. 6. When you come into a drawing-room or _salon de lecture_, make your triumphal entry with all the noise you can, so as to attract the general attention. Keep your hat upon your head and glare fiercely at the quiet people who are reading, as though, like Gessler, you expected them to kneel down and pay homage to it. 7. Should your neighbour at the _table d'hôte_ attempt to broach a conversation with you, turn your deaf ear, if you have one, to his insolent intrusion. If in kindliness of spirit he will still persist in talking, freeze the current of his speech by your iciness of manner, or else awe him into silence by your majesty of bearing. 8. If, despite your English efforts to remain an island, you find yourself invaded by aggressive foes to silence, strive to awe them by the mention of your friend Lord Snobley, or of any other nobleman with whom you may by accident have ever come in contact. For aught they care to know, you may be his Lordship's hairdresser; but the title of a lord is always pleasant hearing in the company of Britons, although benighted foreigners have not such respect for it. 9. Never give yourself the trouble to order wine beforehand for the _table d'hôte_, but growl and grumble savagely at waiters for not bringing it the instant you _have_ ordered it, even though you happen to have entered the room late, and find a hundred people waiting to be served before you. 10. In all hotels where service is included in the bill, be sure you always give a something extra to the servants. This leads them to expect it as a thing of course, and to be insolent to those who can't so well afford to give it. * * * UNPLEASANTLY SUGGESTIVE NAMES OF "CURE" PLACES ABROAD.--_Bad Gastein._ Which must be worse than the first day's sniff at Bad-Eggs-la-Chapelle. [Illustration: RECOLLECTIONS FROM ABROAD (FREE TRANSLATION) Row in a Belgian estaminet (In three tableaux) "Now then! you be off!!" | "What!! you _won't!_" | "Then stay where "I shan't!" | "_No!!_" | you are!!" ] [Illustration: The Dutch peasant is not without his simple notions of chivalry. As we see by the above, he believes in letting the lady _have the pull_.] AN ALPINE RAILWAY Abominable work of man, Defacing nature where he can With engineering; On plain or hill he never fails To run his execrable rails; Coals, dirt, smoke, passengers and mails, At once appearing. To Alpine summits daily go The locomotives to and fro. What desecration! Where playful kids once blithely skipped, Where rustic goatherds gaily tripped, Where clumsy climbers sometimes slipped, He builds a station. Up there, where once upon a time Determined mountaineers would climb To some far _châlet;_ Up there, above the carved wood toys, Above the beggars, and the boys Who play the _Ranz des Vaches_--such noise Down in the _Thal_, eh? Up there at sunset, rosy red, And sunrise--if you're out of bed-- You see the summit, Majestic, high above the vale. It is not difficult to scale-- The fattest folk can go by rail To overcome it. For nothing, one may often hear, Is sacred to the engineer; He's much too clever. Well, I must hurry on again, That mountain summit to attain. Good-bye. I'm going by the train. I climb it? Never! * * * AT MONTE CARLO.--_First Briton._ One never sees any young girls here. _Second Briton (brutally inclined)._ No! the ladies are obliged to be _trente et quarante_ to match the tables. [Illustration: WHY WE ARE SO BELOVED ON THE CONTINENT _Provincial Tourist_ (_to "Kellner" who offers him sausages_). "I say, old feller, any 'osses died about 'ere lately! _Chevals morts_, you know!!" [_And the worst of it is, that though his compatriots did not laugh, as he expected, the "vulgarian" wasn't a bit abashed._ ] ROUNDABOUT READINGS Ostend must be a glorious place. From an advertisement which has appeared in an evening contemporary I gather that "the multitude, anxious to spend an elegant and fashionable sojourn in the country, has rendered itself this year at Ostend. It is a long time since such an opulent clientele has been united in a seaside resort. At the fall of day the vast terraces of the fashionable restaurants, situated along the sea-bank, present a fairy aspect. There is quite a confusion of dazzling costumes upon which sparkle thousand gems, and all this handsome cosmopolitan society passes through the saloons of the Kursaal Club, in which one hears spoken all known languages as at Babel and Monte Carlo, and of which the attractions are identical to those of the latter place." This is the first time I have heard of a similarity to Babel being mentioned as an attraction. But no doubt an opulent clientele has peculiar tastes of its own, especially when its dazzling costumes sparkle with thousand gems. In a small Belgian town (naturally not Ostend) I once saw the following notice hung over the door of a washerwoman's establishment:-- Anglish linge tooke here from 1 sou Shert, cols, soaks, sleep-shert, pokets. I eet my hatt. The last sentence puzzled me for a long time. Finally I came to the conclusion that it was not intended so much to be a statement of actual fact as an enticement to English people, who would of course take all their washing to a lady commanding so gay and accurate a knowledge of an English catch-phrase. * * * My third example of English as she is spoke is from a notice issued by an out-of-the-way hotel in Italy, which had changed its management:-- "The nobles and noblesses traveller are beg to tell that the direction of this splendid hotel have bettered himself. And the strangers will also find high comforting luxuries, hot cold water coffee bath and all things of perfect establishment and at prices fixed. Table d'hôte best of Italy France everywere. Onclean linens is quick wash and every journals is buy for readers. Beds hard or soaft at the taste of traveller. Soaps everywere plenty. Very cheaper than other hotel. No mosquits no parrot no rat." [Illustration: CONSEQUENCES OF THE TOWER OF BABEL SCENE--_A table d'hôte abroad._ _He._ "Parlez-vous Français, mademoiselle?" _She._ "No, sir." _He._ "Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Fraülein?" _She._ "No." _He._ "Habla usted Español, señorita?" _She._ "No." _He._ "Parlate Italiano, signorina?" _She._ "No!" (_Sighs._) [_Pause._] _She._ "Do you speak English, sir?" _He._ "Hélas! non, mademoiselle!" (_Sighs deeply._)] [Illustration: OUR COUNTRYWOMEN IN PARIS (_The extra half-franc_) _Aunt Jemima_ (_blue ribbon_). "There, coshay. This is pour voomaym--sankont sonteems! But it's a _peurmanger_, you know--not a _pour boire!_!"] ENGLISH AS SHE IS WRIT Intending English visitors to Spa, who may wish to become, temporarily, members of the _Cercle des Étrangers_, will be pleased with the following courteous circular:-- "_Casino de Spa, Cercle des Étrangers._ "M.,--In polite replying of your esteemed letter of the ---- I will hasten to send you a statute of the 'Cercle des Étrangers' with a formulary at this annexed. "Please to send us the formulary back, as soon as possible, the formalities for the reception as member wanting two days time. "We dare inform you that only those persons are allowed to go into the drawing-rooms of the Casino, which previously have fulfilled the prescribed formalities of admittance. "With the greatest respects "In order of the directorship of the Casino "THE CHIEF SECRETARY." "_Casino de Spa, Cercle des Étrangers._" "Under-signed, having been acquainted with the statutes of the 'Cercle des Étrangers,' wishes to fulfill the prescribed formalities in order to have inlet and therefore gives following indications:" (_Space for particulars as to name, forename, title, or trade, "spot and datum," with signature, here follows; and so this most interesting document concludes._) * * * QUANTITY NOT QUALITY.--_Brown, senior._ Well, Fred, what did you see during your trip abroad? _Brown, junior._--Aw--'pon m' word, 'don't know what I saw 'xactly, 'only know I did more by three countries, eight towns, and four mountains, than Smith did in the same time! * * * THE LOVE OF NATURE.--_First Chappie._ Lovely place, Monte Carlo, isn't it! Such beautiful scenery! _Second Chappie._ Beautiful!--such splendid air, too! _First Chappie._ Splendid!--a--(_pause_)--let's go into the casino! [_Exeunt to the tables, where they remain for the rest of the day._ [Illustration: SCENE--_Bureau of the Chiefs of the Douanes_ _French Official._ "You have passport?" _English Gent._ "Nong, mossoo." _Official._ "Your name." _Gent._ "Belleville." _Official._ "Christian nom?" _Gent._ "'Arry!" _Official._ "Profession?" _Gent._ "BANKER!"] [Illustration: ON THE RIVIERA _She._ "I wonder what makes the Mediterranean look so blue?" _He._ "You'd look blue if you had to wash the shores of Italy!"] [Illustration: SCENE--_A Café in Paris_ _London Gent._ "Garcong! tas de corfee!" _Garçon._ "Bien, m'sieu'--Vould you like to see zee _Times?_" _London Gent._ "Hang the feller! Now, I wonder how the doose he found out I was an Englishman!"] [Illustration: THE TIME-HONOURED BRITISH THREAT _Indignant Anglo-Saxon_ (_to provincial French innkeeper, who is bowing his thanks for the final settlement of his exorbitant and much-disputed account_). "Oh, oui, mossoo! pour le matière de ça, je _paye!_ Mais juste vous regardez ici, mon ami! et juste--vous--marquez--mes--_mots!_ Je _paye_--_mais je mette le dans la 'Times!_'"] TONGUES FOR TOURISTS The Long Vacation is drawing to a close, and parents and guardians may like to know how reading tours have aided in advancing the education of their respective scions. Should any doting fathers be interested in the absorption of foreign languages into their sons' systems, the following mems from the diary of a University man, who has just returned from a tour abroad, whither he had gone expressly to perfect himself in European tongues, may be productive of some reflection. _July._ Left Dover for our tour. Met American Colonel X. Y. Zachary at Calais. Glorious brick. Knew French, and talked for us all. Gave us quite a twang, and left us devoted to Yankees. Put up at Grand Hotel. English waiter. Saved us lots of trouble. Went to English tavern. Excellent beefsteak for dinner. Cheese direct from Cheshire. Went to open-air music hall in the Shongs Eliza, what they call a coffee concert. Two English clowns and a man who sang "_Tommy, make Room for your Uncle._" English family on both sides of us. Dropped their H's freely. Met two college chums in the yard of the Grand when we came back. Went out to buy German Dictionary, French Grammar, and Italian Dialogues. Bought a copy of _Punch_ instead--great fun. Started for Italy. Capital guard with the train: knew English thoroughly. Queen's messenger in the carriage; splendid linguist. What's the use of trying to speak a foreign language, if you don't begin in your cradle! Arrived at Turin. Met the Larkspur girls at the station. Went everywhere with them. They are all awfully jolly. Quite gorgeous at slang. Must buy that Italian Grammar and Dialogues. Learnt the Italian for "Yes" to-day. On to Venice. How well our gondolier talks English. Lovely weather for cricket or lawn tennis. Nothing so jolly here. Old bricks, and dirty punts they call gondowlers. _August._ Start for Rome. Fancy a Roman train. What was it? All Gaul, or all the train, was divided _in tres partes_. Sang comic songs all the way. Bother Rome! it reminds one of Virgil and Horace, and all those nuisances. By the way, we must not forget the Italian Dialogues. Hotel commissioner, such a good fellow. Has lived in the Langham for the last six years. Told us a capital American story. Left the others to go round the monuments while I played a game of billiards with Captain Crawley. By Jingo! he does play well. _He_ never learnt Italian or French, but I have heard he is a Greek. Speaks English like a Briton. Meant to have begun Italian to-day; but too hot, really. Go back by Vienna and Trieste. Better buy a German Dictionary. Charlie's voice downstairs, by Jove! Hurrah! Off to Vienna. Go over the Tyrol by night. Sleep all the way. Vienna. Awfully good beer. English parson in same hotel. Knows the governor. Wants me to take him round, and as he hears I am studying German, will I interpret for him? See him further first. _September._ Leave Vienna, to escape parson. The German tongue most attractive when made into sausages. Lingo simply horrible. Couldn't learn it if I tried. Arrived at Munich. Drove round the English Garden. Nothing English in it except weeds and ourselves. Saw _Richard the Third_ played at the theatre. Call that Shakspeare? Well! I am particularly etcetrad. And in German, too! Why don't they learn English? Home in time for some partridges. By the way, wonder what became of the "coach" who went out with me? Never bought the grammars and dictionaries, after all. There's nothing like English if you want to be understood. * * * AT BADEN-BADEN.--_Captain Rook._ Yes, my dear sir, although they have closed the Public Tables, still, if you really want a little amusement, I think I can introduce you to a very good set indeed. Where they play low, you know--only to pass the time. _Young Mr. Pidgeon._ Oh, thank you. I should like it very much indeed. But I am giving you a great deal of trouble? _Captain Rook._ Not at all! [Illustration: AT BULLONG _Paterfamilias_ (_who_ WILL _do the parleyvooing himself instead of leaving it to his daughters_). "Oh--er--j'ai bezwang d'oon bootail de--de--de----Here, you girls! what's the French for _eau de Cologne?_"] A CORRESPONDENT reports the following advertisement, written in chalk on the box of a Swiss shoeblack:-- "ENGLISH SPOKEN. AMERICAN UNDERSTOOD." * * * SCENE--_Boulevard Café._ _First Irate Frenchman._ Imbécile! _Second I. F._ Canaille!! _First I. F._ Cochon!!! _Second I. F._ Chamberlaing!!!! [Illustration: FRENCH AS SHE IS SPOKE "You like Ostende, Monsieur Simpkin?" "Oh, yes, orfly! It's so 'richurch,' don'tcherknow. Just come up to the 'Curse Hall,' will you?"] [Illustration: "Such a change, yer know, from alwis torkin' yer own langwidge!"] [Illustration: KNOCKED 'EM IN THE OLD GHENT ROAD (_A Sketch in Belgium_)] FLORENCE IN THE FUTURE (_A very distant Future, let us hope_) _Tourist._ Can you speak English? _Guide._ Yes, sir. I lived in London for many years. _Tourist._ It is a very long time since I was in Florence. What is there to see in your city now? _Guide._ The city has been entirely improved, sir. There is the new Palazzo Municipale. It is superb. _Tourist._ I don't think I should care for that. What else is there? _Guide._ There are the new Boulevards, the Piazza Umberto and the Ponte Nuovo. They are all magnificent, and the American visitors admire them very much. So do the English visitors, but there are very few of them. It is curious, for Florence has been made quite new and handsome. _Tourist._ I don't wish to see new buildings. Isn't there anything old? _Guide._ Oh, yes, sir, of course. There is the Piazzo Vittorio Emmanuele. That is more than thirty years old. _Tourist._ I remember the hideous square. But where are the old buildings? How about the Baptistery? _Guide._ Oh, that was pulled down six years ago to make more room for the tramways. It was a dark, ugly old place. There is a beautiful new Battistero now, made of glass and iron, like the Crystal Palace near London, put up in place of the old Cathedral which nobody liked. _Tourist._ What? You don't mean to say Giotto's Tower has gone? _Guide._ There was some old _campanile_. I think it was sold to the Hawaii Territory World's Fair Syndicate. _Tourist._ Anyhow, there's the Ponte Vecchio. _Guide._ Oh, yes, sir. But nobody goes to see that. It was pulled down a great many years ago, and some old-fashioned, artistic Florentines made a great fuss, so it was put up again on dry land at the end of the Cascine. The Municipality used to do that years ago. Pull down an old building, and put it up again in quite a different place, and then say it was just the same. It hardly seemed worth the trouble. Happily they did not put up a memorial to every old building, as the English did to Temple Bar. As for the Ponte Vecchio, it was turned into a switchback railway at last, but it never paid. There is the Ponte Nuovo---- _Tourist._ No, thank you. But look here. There must be something. Where are the pictures? _Guide._ They were taken to Rome, sir, when the Palazzo Pitti and the Palazzo degli Uffizi were pulled down. _Tourist._ How about statues? I remember old statues everywhere, and some vile modern ones. _Guide._ Yes, sir, years ago, but the old ones were all cleared away to make more room for the electric tramways. But there's a magnificent statue of Italy on the Piazza at Fiesole. The figure is two hundred feet high, made of cast iron, painted to look like marble. She holds an electric light in her hand, which you can see at night from miles away. _Tourist._ But I'd rather not. How about the churches? Where is Santa Maria Novella? _Guide._ Excuse me, sir; Santa Maria Novellissima. There was an old church once, but the present one is quite new. It is made of steel, with thin stone stuck all over it, to look like a stone building, just like the Tower Bridge in London. You know, sir, we get many artistic ideas from England. It is a very clever imitation, and much admired. _Tourist._ No doubt. I'll ask you one final question. Which is the oldest building now standing in Florence? _Guide._ Well, really, sir, I'm not quite sure. I should think the gasometer on the left bank of the Arno is about as old as anything. The Stazione Centrale was very ancient, but of course the new Railway Station---- _Tourist._ That'll do. I arrived at that station this morning. You take me back there, and I'll leave this unhappy place for ever. I'm off to Turin. It may be a rectangular, monotonous city, but it's now the oldest town in Italy. * * * AT LUCERNE.--_Member of Parliament_ (_ending a long explanation of a pet measure_). And so you see, my dear, by the law of supply and demand, Capital _must_ be benefited without injury to Labour. I hope I make myself clearly understood? Perhaps you might give me your view of the subject. The suggestions of fresh minds are frequently very valuable. I have noticed that you have been pondering over something for the last half-hour. You were thinking, perhaps, that greater liberty might be given to the framers of the initial contract? _Mrs. M.P._ No, dear. The fact is, I have been considering all the morning which of my dresses I ought to wear to-night at the _table d'hôte!_ [Illustration: OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD Sketch of a bench on the Boulevards, occupied by four English people who only know each other by sight. [Illustration: AFTER THE FÈTES! _First Citizen._ "Say then! was it not a fine change to cry 'Vive l'Empereur' for nearly a whole week, instead of 'Vive la République'?" _Second Citizen._ "Ah, my brave, it was truly magnificent! And so new! I'm horribly bored with always calling out 'Vive la République'!" [_They smoke and consider._] OBJECTIONS TO PLACES (_By a Stay-at-Home Cynic_) _Antwerp._--Too many pictures. _Boulogne._--Too many English. _Calais._--Barred by the Channel passage. _Dieppe._--Journey there literally a "toss-up." _Ems._--In the sere and yellow leaf. _Florence._--Paintings anticipated by photography. _Geneva._--Can get watches nowadays elsewhere. _Heidelberg._--Castle too "personally conducted." _Interlaken._--Jungfrau monotonous. _Jerusalem._--Looks better on paper. _Kissingen._--Fallen off since Sheridan's days. _Lucerne._--Lion in stone too irritating. _Madrid._--Bull-fights can be supplied by biograph. _Naples._--No longer an _ante mortem_ necessity. _Paris._--Used up. _Quebec._--After the Jubilee, too Colonial. _Rouen._--Preliminary journey impossible. _Saumur._--Not to be tempted by the vintage. _Turin._--Out of date more than a quarter of a century. _Utrecht._--Nothing, with or without its velvet. _Wiesbaden._--For ages superseded by Monte Carlo. _Xeres._--Can get sherry without going there. _Yokohama._--Products purchasable at the stores. _Zurich._--"Fair waters" disappointing. * * * AT ANTWERP.--_Artist_ (_amateur_). "_The Descent from the Cross._" Hem! Not a bad bit of colouring, but out of date, sir,--out of date! _Artist_ (_professional_). You think so! Well, perhaps you are right. Splendid subject--splendid work; but it mightn't have sold nowadays. In 1875, Rubens would have painted portraits of fat mayors and sketches from the nursery. _Artist_ (_amateur_). Talking of sketches from the nursery, you should have seen my "_Coronation of Henry the Eighth!_"--the picture, you know, that they were afraid to accept at the Royal Academy! Afraid, sir!--that's the word--afraid! _Artist_ (_professional_). Quite so! [Illustration: AT A FRENCH HOTEL "Tell him to clean your boots, John--and mine too." "All right. Er--garçong, nettoyez may bot, si voo play--et aussee mah fam!"] [Illustration: A FRENCH CIRCE _Landlady_ (_to Jones, who is bargaining for apartment_). "Non, monsieur! C'est mon dernier prix, à prendre ou à laisser--et encore si je vous le cède à ce prix-là, c'est parceque la physionomie ouverte de monsieur m'est si sympathique que je voudrais avoir monsieur pour locataire!" [_We will not insult our readers by translating._ ] TALK FOR TRAVELLERS ["The German officials at the frontier, since the relaxation of the passport regulations, have been ordered to treat foreign passengers with every politeness."--_Daily Papers._] MEIN HERR, will you do us the honour to descend from the railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need not disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters. This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we have swept the path that leads to the door. Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. We have placed them there ourselves, and can recommend them. Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the keys of your boxes? A hundred thousand thanks. Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are bringing these sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your grandmother. It is a most proper thing to do, and, under the circumstances, the duty will be remitted. And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and ages? An heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must pass duty-free. As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau of yours, it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes of that gracious lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your instruction not to smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with your explanations, and are greatly obliged to you for your kindness and condescension. This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before the door, as without a platform it is difficult to ascend. No, mein herr, it is utterly impossible? We are forbidden by the Emperor himself to accept a gratuity. Yes, madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. Instant dismissal is the penalty. Certainly, mein herr, you could get the same politeness before the Emperor issued his Imperial instructions. But then the charge was a thaler! [Illustration: OUR COUNTRYMEN ABROAD "Ulloa! Garçong, _here_ you are! Dayjernay, se voo play?" "Yes, sare! Vat vil you 'av, sare?" "Oh! Oofs!" "Yes, sare! [OE]ufs à la _coque_, sare?" "Oh, nong! Hang it! _Hen's_ eggs for _me_, please!"] [Illustration: _Gallant Scavenger._ "Very much the good day,[A] madame! And how fares mister your husband, this fine weather?" _Polite Applewoman._ "Much better, I thank you, monsieur! Recall me, I pray you, to the amiable recollection of madame your spouse!" _Gallant Scavenger._ "With pleasure, madame. Very much the good evening!" _Polite Applewoman._ "Good evening, monsieur, and good night!" [Footnote A: In the original, "_Bien le bon jour, madame_."]] INTO SPAIN (_With a Conversation-Book_) [Illustration] _Cannes._--Read that the weather is dismal and cloudy in England. Shall stay in the sunny South a little longer. Cannes is a charming place. But might as well see something different. Where to go? Consult map. Good idea. Spain. Consult time-tables. Easiest thing in the world. Tarascon to Barcelona. What is there to see in Barcelona? Nuts probably. Also Spanish manners and customs, dark eyes, fans, _mantillas_, and so forth. Shall certainly go, after a few days. Good idea to learn a few words of Spanish. Must be very easy. Italian and French mixed, with some Latin added. Amiable Frenchman in hotel supports this view. He says, airily, "_Vous quittez Paris dans le 'sleeping,' vous achetez des journaux espagnols à Irun, et, arrivé à Madrid vous parlez espagnol._" Cannot hope to rival that linguistic feat, but may be able to learn a few phrases between Cannes and Barcelona. Buy a conversation-book in French and Spanish. _Port Bou._--Across the frontier. Custom-house station. Now is the time to begin Spanish. Have read some of that conversation-book on the way. Begin to doubt its utility. Usual sort of thing. "Has thy brother bought a boot-jack?" "I wish these six volumes of Molière's plays to be bound in half calf." And so forth. This one is the same, only in French. Custom-house officer, in beautiful uniform and bright green gloves, very strict in his examination of my luggage. The green gloves travel all over my property, and bring out a small cardboard box. Triumphant expression on official's face. He has caught me. Open box, and show him it contains a few white ties. His face now shows only doubt and amazement. Cannot explain to him verbally. Evidently useless to mention the binding of Molière's plays. The green gloves beckon another custom-house officer, also wearing bright green gloves. Together they examine my harmless white ties. It seems to me the green gloved hands are held up in pious horror. Try them in French, in Italian, in English. No good. Should perhaps tip them in Spanish. But why waste _pesetas?_ So refrain. They shake their heads still more suspiciously. The only thing remaining for me to do is to ask if the brother of one of them has bought a boot-jack. Does not seem very appropriate, but, if said politely, might imply that I wish to change the subject. Am just about to begin the note of interrogation upside down, which gives such an uncanny air to a Spanish question, when they cease looking at my ties, and I pass on. _Barcelona._--Shall have no difficulty here. Have been told that French is spoken everywhere. If not, then English or Italian. Everyone in the hotel speaks French. To the bank. Manager speaks English beautifully. Buy some cigarettes. Old woman in the shop speaks Italian. Shall get on capitally. Need not trouble to carry the conversation-book in my pocket. In the evening to the opera. Walk out between the acts, seeing Spaniards also walking out, and enter a café. Order coffee. Waiter brings a huge glass of water, and a cup, filled to the brim with sugar, on which the _verseur_ is about to pour my drink. Stop him. Explain in French that I take no sugar. The two, and another waiter, stand round me, with dazed faces. By Jove, they speak only Spanish! Wish I had the conversation-book. But should probably have found something like "_Nous ne voulons pas faire une excursion en mer, parce qu'il fait trop de vent_," or "_Ces bottines sont un peu étroites, veuillez les élargir_." No good trying talking. Turn out eight or ten lumps of sugar, and so get my coffee. Then return to the opera. Four polite officials at the entrance gaze wonderingly at the counterfoil of my ticket, which I concluded served for readmission, no pass ticket being offered. Ask each one, in turn, if he speaks French. He does not. Oh for the conversation-book! If only I could say "_Tous les tableaux dans le Salon Carré du Louvre sont des chefs-d'[oe]uvre_," or "_Est-ce que mademoiselle votre s[oe]ur joue du piano?_" I should have shown myself to be an individual with innocent and refined tastes, and not a socialist or a brigand. The second phrase would have been singularly appropriate in the opera house. Alas, I cannot! So address them in French, with bows and smiles. And they respond in Spanish, evidently with great courtesy, also with bows and smiles, and let me pass in, probably because they cannot make me understand that I ought to stop out. For the future I must carry that conversation-book everywhere. [Illustration: OVERHEARD NEAR BERGEN _Norwegian Host_ (_whose English is not perfect--to British tourist_). "What that I tell you, sarr, it is quite true. Nansen killed his last dog to save the others!"] [Illustration: (THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS BOY (THE REAL)] [Illustration: (THE IDEAL) THE MERRY SWISS GIRL (THE REAL)] THE TOURIST'S BOOK OF FATE IF YOU DREAM OF IT MEANS _Antwerp_ That you will be bored to death by Rubens. _Boulogne_ That you will lose a small fortune in tenth-rate gambling. _Calais_ That you will soon tire of your Continental trip, and stop prematurely. _Dieppe_ That you will have about as much change and comfort as at Brighton in November. _Etretat_ That you will be fortunate if you can secure comfortable lodgings. _Florence_ That you will never enter another picture-gallery for years. _Geneva_ That you will want to go away before you have fairly arrived. _Heidelberg_ That you can never have been abroad before. _Interlaken_ That you will hear the opinions of a number of Mr. Cook's tourists on the Jungfrau. _Jerusalem_ That if you have been advised to go there by your friends, you must be very unpopular. _Karlsbad_ That if you intend taking the waters, you had better insure your life before commencing the operation. _Lucerne_ That if you want to ascend either the Righi or Mont Pilatus, if you are judicious you will purchase a railway ticket. _Milan_ That you will find little difference between the Passage Victor Emanuel and the Burlington Arcade. _Naples_ That you had better keep a sharp look out on the returns of the cholera. _Ouchy_ That you are likely to have a good time of it at the Hôtel Beau Rivage if "Perambulating Parsons" have let it alone. _Paris_ That you are quite subservient to the wishes and dress-requirements of your wife. _Quebec_ That you can see what some of the Colonists have exchanged for the indiscriminating hospitality of the Mother Country. _Rome_ That you wish to do a good turn to the doctors by choosing such a time for your visit. _Sedan_ That you will develop a taste for the collection of Brummagem relics. _Turin_ That you will want a good rest after doing Mont Cénis. _Unter den_ That you will be lured to visit a City _Linden_ well worth seeing by the unearned fame of one of its smallest attractions. _Vevey_ That you had better stay there than go over the Simplon into tourist-teeming Italy. _Wiesbaden_ That if you can't get "Trente et Quarante" or "Rouge et Noir" at the Kursaal, you may yet play at chess. _Zurich_ That by the date you get there it will be time to think of coming home again. [Illustration: GOING TO THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS AT NICE] [Illustration: SUDDEN INTERRUPTION OF THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS AT NICE. "SAUVE QUI PEUT!"] [Illustration: "L'ENTENTE CORDIALE" A Sketch on the Normandy Coast.] REGRETS _EN ROUTE_ (_By our Blasé Contributor_) That I missed so many chances of doing something more or less novel on the continent. That I did not try a cup of coffee on Dover Pier _before_ starting for Calais. That I avoided the smoke-room when the steamboat passed through a choppy sea mid-Channel. That I did not "declare" something to the _douane_, to see what would come of it. That I did not stay a day at St. Pol, and then take the slow train to Boulogne, stopping an hour or so at each of the interim stations. That I did not go to a third-rate hotel on the wrong side of the Seine to find out what it was like. That I didn't do the Bois de Boulogne in a fog. That I left Paris without seeing Père-la-Chaise in a Scotch mist. That I did not ride a horse in Venice. That I neglected to spend a couple of days in the Catacombs in Rome. That I refused to picnic on the top of the Tower of Pisa under an umbrella. That I neglected to return to Marseilles by a cargo-boat. That I followed no system at Monte Carlo. That I went out in summer clothing at Nice. That I took the train up the Rhine instead of one of the lumbering steam-boats. That I overslept myself at the summit of the Rigi, instead of catching cold under a blanket. That I followed the system of Mark Tapley without attempting cheerfulness. Finally, that when I was in Japan, I did not save myself further boredom by personally patronising "the happy despatch." * * * MEMS FOR TRAVELLERS ON THE CONTINENT. --First-class abroad is patronised by princes, millionaires, fools, _and_ wise men. A sight-seeing trip would be far pleasanter without the sight-seeing. * * * ENGLISH AS SHE IS WRITTEN AT ZERMATT.-- On the back of the business card of a Zermatt shoemaker is the following notice:-- "PAY ATTENTION TO THIS Visitors are kindly invited to brought your boots self to the schoemaker, then they are frequently nagled by the Portier and that is very dammageable for boots and kosts the same price." [Illustration: A REMINDER "Well, good-bye, old man. We've had a high old time in dear old Paris, haven't we! To me it all seems like a dream!" "So it would to me, old man, if you didn't owe me thirteen francs!"] HOLIDAY HINTS (_By the Expert Wrinkler_) Where to spend Saturday to Monday is, of course, the prevailing and stubborn problem in many of the stately homes of England. What then must be the difficulty when the question to be answered is where to spend the Easter holidays? The reply depends, of course, very much upon the time that can be expended upon the vacation. If, to take an example, a gentleman has only a week at his disposal, it is little use his thinking very seriously of India or the Cape; but Paris is, of course, well within his power. Given a fortnight he might get as far as Rome if he wished to, although for my part I prefer Monte. On this favourite resort, however, I need not dwell at present, as my readers will remember a paragraph on Monte and suitable costume there which I wrote some two or three years ago on the occasion of one of the infrequent breakings of the bank. [Illustration: SCENE--_South of France Winter Resort_ _Aunt._ "Kitty, if you don't behave yourself properly, I'll tell your mamma. When I was your age, I was a good girl." _Kitty._ "And are you very wicked now, aunt?"] [Illustration: AN INNOCENT OFFENDER What is all this about? Why, it is against the law to carry plants of any kind, alive or dead, into Italy, and the officials at the Italian dogana (custom-house) near Mentone have just been told that an English gentleman, with a rose in his button hole, has strolled by, towards Ventimiglia. So they are after the unsuspecting criminal!] [Illustration: 'ARRY'S AND 'ARRIET'S 'OLIDAY TRIP] [Illustration: SCENE--_Hotel in Cologne_ _Fidgety English Party._ "There seems to be quite a commotion in the hotel, Kellner!" _Kellner._ "Ja wohl! De _drain_ has chust gom in, kvite full!" [_Fidgety Party, who is not yet accustomed to the German way of pronouncing English, is aghast._ ] THE IDEAL EQUIPMENT Any gentleman who really wishes to acquire a reputation as a citizen of the world must be supplied with a large number of travelling outfits which he can pack at a moment's notice. A compendious bag fitted with requirements for the moors is always handy under my bed; and I am ready to start for the Riviera, the Normandy coast, Paris, Switzerland, the Bavarian Alps, the Rhine, Norway, Palestine, Iceland, at ten minutes' notice, according as the invitation may be worded. No gentleman at all in demand can afford to dispense with such preparations. But to make travel really pleasant, remember that you must not only do in Rome as Rome does, but you must dress as Rome (or Paris) expects you to. THE NEEDS OF PARIS Paris being the favourite Easter resort, I cannot do better, even at the risk of repeating myself, than give a few hints as to costume in the gay city. A strong light suit of tweed dittoes, of a pronounced check pattern, should be the basis of one's wardrobe. By way of headgear a deer-stalker, a cloth, or best of all, a pith helmet, is _de rigueur_ in the English visitor, and if you are not provided by Nature with side-whiskers and long projecting front teeth, you must call in the resources of art to make good these deficiencies. A SENSIBLE SWISS OUTFIT For a Swiss tour I should recommend the following outfit, A dome-shaped celluloid hat for resisting the impact of avalanches; two climbing suits of stout Welsh homespun or Irish frieze (do not make the mistake of wounding the susceptibilities of the local _fauna_ by choosing chamois leather, otherwise an excellent substance); hot-water tube puttees and purpoise-hide brogues. A good supply of alpenstocks and blue veils is indispensable. For hotel life, I recommend tourists to take their own mosquito curtains, a pianola, and a portable swimming-bath. The changes of temperature in Switzerland are so sudden that one must be prepared for every emergency. If the noontide glare has to be faced, bombazine bloomers will be found most refreshing. But if the Matterhorn is to be scaled by moonlight you cannot be too warmly clad. NATIONAL COSTUME What I would impress on any intending traveller, then, is to be prepared within certain limits to accommodate his dress to that of the country he proposes to visit. It is quite a mistake to suppose that this will involve any serious outlay. Foreigners, though sensitive, are considerate, and will not expect strangers to adopt every detail of their national costume. For instance, I have found that the alterations needful for a visit to Vienna are very few indeed. The absolute minimum is a butterfly tie, but I should also recommend a bottle of _pommade Hongroise_ and a tall hat with a flat brim. The ordinary brim can be made to lie flat with a little coaxing, and can be curled up afterwards by any good hatter. High heels also create a favourable impression on the foreign mind, and if you take a black coat be sure that it is heavily braided. THE TYROL AND ITALY. I knew a man who said that you would be welcomed anywhere in the Tyrol if you could only jodel. Personally, though I think that a little _tul-lul-liety!_ may be a passport to the affections of the Tyrolese peasant, it has no influence whatever with hotel-keepers. For Italy, a velvet or velveteen coat will make you feel at home, and if this should prove beyond the resources of your purse, then I strongly recommend earrings as the irreducible minimum. The preliminary operation, I admit, is a little painful, but it soon passes off. Earrings, with a red Garibaldi shirt and a Byron tie, give a man a very stylish and thoroughly peninsular appearance. * * * WHAT THEY TAKE ABROAD.--_What She takes._--Three black silk dresses (Princesse, Watteau, and Duchesse); one green satin robe, with bows; one fancy silk, with embroidered apron; two black grenadines (one square cut); two white grenadines, with lace trimmings; four white tops (two warranted to wash); one violet skirt, with apron and jacket; four dinner dresses (violet, pink, pink and black, and blue); three polonaises (yellow, green, and red); one white worked top, with cardinal bows; two sealskin, one black silk, and three black cloth jackets; long fur cloak, ulster, and grey travelling polonaise; four hats (Gainsborough, brigand, shovel, and pork-pie); four bonnets (black, blue, violet, and red); linen (14 cwt.); boots, slippers, &c. (1 cwt.); extras, toilet, &c. (76 lb.). _What He takes._--Linen (10 lb.); two flannel shirts; an extra pair of boots; his sponge, combs, and brushes; and a wideawake hat. [Illustration: A STAGGERER! _Custom-House Officer._ "Now, then, got anything contraband about ye?" _Mate._ "'Got 'bout bot'l and half brandy; but I'll defy ye to take it fro' me!" ] WHERE TO GO [Illustration] _Antwerp_--if you are not tired of Exhibitions. _Boulogne_--if you don't mind the mud of the port. _Cologne_--if you are not particular about the comfort of your nose. _Dieppe_--if you like bathing in the foreign fashion. _Etretat_--if solitude has commanding charms. _Florence_--if you are partial to 100° in the shade. _Genoa_--if you have no objection to mosquitoes. _Heidelberg_--if you are not tired of the everlasting castle. _Interlaken_--if the Jungfrau has the advantage of novelty. _Java_--if you wish to eat its jelly on the spot. _Kandahar_--if you are not afraid of Afghan treachery. _Lyons_--if you are fond of riots and _émeutes_. _Marseilles_--if you are determined to do the Château D'If. _Naples_--if you are anxious to perform an _ante mortem_ duty. _Ouchy_--if you like it better than Lausanne. _Paris_--if you have not been there for at least a fortnight. _Quebec_--if you are qualifying for admission to a lunatic asylum. _Rome_--if you have never had the local fever and want to try it. _Strasbourg_--if you are hard up for an appropriate destination. _Turin_--if it is the only town you have not seen in Italy. _Uig_--if you affect the Isle of Skye in a thunderstorm. _Venice_--if you scorn stings and evil odours. _Wiesbaden_--if you can enjoy scenery minus gambling. _Yokohama_--if you are willing to risk assault and battery. _Zurich_--if you can think of no other place to visit. N.B.--The above places are where to go on the keep-moving-tourist plan. But when you want to know "Where to stay,"--we reply, "At Home." [Illustration: THE "MERRY SWISS BOY"] THE REAL SWISS BOY A NEW VERSION OF THE WELL-KNOWN BALLAD (_Respectfully dedicated by Mr. Punch to the Alpine Tourist, on his return home_) MR. PUNCH _singeth to Swiss Landlord_-- Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy, Sack thy gains, and from labour away. Stick the tongue in the cheek, and sing "_La République_ (Like _l'Empire_, as we know) _c'est la paye!_" The season's done, with purses low, The weary tourists homeward flow-- Then carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy, Sack thy gains, and from labour away! _Swiss Landlord respondeth_-- Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy, When I hie from the mountain away? _Les Milords_ they may climb, without reason or rhyme, But, _beigott_, for their climb they shall pay. My shutters up, no thieves to fear, Till back the tourists come next year, Then will I, then will I, as the merry Swiss boy, Take purses upon the highway! By the nose, by the nose, sir, the knowing Swiss boy The _Milords_ and _Miladis_ can lead; Through the nose, through the nose, too, the knowing Swiss boy The _Milords_ and _Miladis_ can bleed: Hotels so high high charges grow; _Point d argent, point de Suisse_, you know. So with _Vivent les Anglais!_ locks the merry Swiss boy The francs in his strong-box away! * * * VENICE UNPRESERVED [_"Steamers have been started on the Grand Canal at Venice."--Globe._] I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand. I saw from out the wave black funnels rise Whence clouds of densest smoke I saw expand, And common steamboats, at a penny a mile, O'er the canal--saw many a person land Upon the piers. O Anguish! it does rile The Bard to see all this--and what a smell of ile! * * * THE MERRY SWISS LANDLORD TO THE TRAVELLER WHO HAS BEEN PLUNDERED Briton, assuage this futile rage! Your curses are in vain. You vow you'll go, but well I know You'll cut to come again! [Illustration: THE RETURN OF THE TOURIST] [Illustration: ADVANTAGES OF A CLASSICAL EDUCATION _Mr. Mould._ "Let it remain here, and I'll come back for it!" _Chef de Gare._ "Je n'comprends pas, m'sieur!" _Mrs. Mould._ "Try him in _Latin_, my love." _Mr. Mould._ "All right. Look here, mossoo--_Requiescat in pace--resurgam!_" _Chef de Gare._ "Ah! parfaitement! Que ça reste ici, et puis vous reviendrez!"] FIRST IMPRESSIONS [Illustration] There is no doubt that one's first impressions are always the brightest and the best; therefore I resolve to record the first impressions of a first visit to the Italian lakes. "_British Bellagio_,"-- "Hôtel Victoria, Prince de Galles et des Iles Britanniques," or some such name, is usually, as _Baedeke_r says, "frequented by the English." They are here certainly, and one hears one's native language everywhere. There are the honeymoon couples, silent and reserved, who glare fiercely at anyone who might be supposed to imagine for a moment that they are newly married; there are people who converse in low monotonous voices about the weather, which changes every hour; there is an old lady, who gives one startling information, telling one, for instance, that Paul Veronese was born at Verona; and there are two or three British menservants, gazing with superb disdain at the poor foreigners. The hotel is very quiet. The evening of a week-day is like Sunday evening, and Sunday evening is----!!! If only the weather were not also English, or even worse. On the last day of September the only warm place is by the fire in the _fumoir_. So let us hurry off from this wintry climate to somewhere, to anywhere. By the first boat we go. Still English everywhere. At Bellagio a great crowd, and heaps of luggage. At Cadenabbia a greater crowd, and more heaps of luggage. Here they come, struggling along the gangway in the wind. There is a sad-faced Englishman, his hands full of packages, his pockets stuffed with others, carrying under his arm a little old picture wrapped loosely in pink tissue paper, which the wind blows here and there. He is a forgetful man, for he wanders to and fro collecting his possessions. With him is another forgetful Englishman in very shabby clothes, who also carries packages in paper, and who drags after him an immensely fat bull-dog at the end of a cord five yards long, which winds round posts and human legs and other obstacles. At last they are all on board--the forgetful Englishmen have darted back for the last time to fetch in an ice-axe and an old umbrella--and on we go over the grey water, past the grey hills, under the grey sky, towards Como. At Cernobbio the shabby Englishman lands, dragging his bull-dog at the end of the cord, and carrying in his arms two rolls of rugs, a bag, and other trifles. His sad-faced companion, still holding his tiny Old Master in the ever-diminishing pink paper, wanders in and out seeking forgotten treasures, an ice-axe, a bag, another paper parcel. Finally all are landed, the gangway is withdrawn, the steamer begins to move. Suddenly there is a shout. The shabby Englishman has forgotten something. The sympathetic passengers look round. There is a solitary umbrella on a seat No doubt that is his. A friendly stranger cries, "Is this yours?" and tosses it to him on the quay. Then there is another shout. "_Ach Himmel_, dat is mine!" The frantic German waves his arms, the umbrella is tossed back, he catches it and is happy. But meanwhile another English man, the most egregious ass that ever lived, has discovered yet another solitary umbrella, which he casts wildly into space. For one moment the captain, the passengers, the people on the quay, gaze breathless as it whirls through the air. It falls just short of the landing-stage, and sinks into the grey waters of that chilly lake, never more to be recovered, in any sense of the word. In those immeasurable depths its neat silk covering will decay, its slender frame will fall to pieces. It has gone for ever. Beneath this grey Italian sky some Italian gamp must keep off these Italian showers. Then the captain, the passengers, and the people smile and laugh. I, who write this, am the only one on whose face there is not a grin, for that umbrella was mine. A FIRST IMPRESSIONIST. * * * THE BELFRY OF BRUGES OVERLOOKED ["A more silent city than Bruges does not exist."--_Standard._] WHAT? Bruges a silent city! Now, nay a thousand times! If deaf, accept our pity; If not,--oh dear! those chimes! [Illustration: SIX OF ONE, HALF-A-DOZEN OF THE OTHER _Three of our Countrywomen Abroad._ "_Well, I never!_ To turn round, and stare at one like that!"] [Illustration: A VIEW ON THE FRENCH COAST] A VIEW ON THE FRENCH COAST TALK about lazy time!-- Come to this sunny clime-- Life is flowing rhyme-- Pleasant its cadence Zephyrs are blowing free Over the summer sea, Sprinkling deliciously Merry Mermaidens! Despite the torrid heat, Toilettes are quite complete; White are the little feet, Fair are the tresses: Maidens here swim or sink, Clad in blue serge--I think Some are in mauve or pink-- Gay are the dresses! If you know Etretât, You'll know _M'sieu là_-- Oh, such a strong papa!-- Ever out boating. You'll know his babies too, Toto and Lolalou, All the long morning through Diving and floating. Oh what a merry crew! Fresh from the water blue, Rosy and laughing too-- Daring and dripping! Look at each merry mite, Held up a dizzy height, Laughing from sheer delight-- Fearless of slipping! He hath a figure grand-- Note, as he takes his stand, Poised upon either hand, Merry young mer-pets: Drop them! You strong papa, Swim back to Etretât! Here comes their dear mamma, Seeking for _her_ pets! * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY'S 'OLIDAY; B'LOGNE AND BACK] [Illustration: HARRY'S SON'S HOLIDAY REMINISCENCES--HOLLAND (_Drorn all by himself, and signed "Harry's Son"_)] [Illustration: 'ARRY ON THE BOULEVARDS] ON THE CHEAP (_From the Journal of a Travelling Economist_) ["On the other hand, however, we must avow some apprehension that too minute attention to the possibility of cheap travel may render a Continental tour a continual vexation and trouble. Plain living and high thinking are, as Mr. Capper says, crying wants of these days; but the latter condition is hardly to be attained by the self-imposed necessity of striking a bargain with a landlord at the end of each day's journey."--_Times._] 3 A.M.--Roused for the seventeenth time since midnight. Vow I will never go to a fourth-class hotel again. Try to get a little sleep on four chairs and a sliding bureau. Can't. Begin a letter to the _Times_ in my head. 4 A.M.--Get up and look for ink. Wake the others. Order five breakfasts for seven of us, and explain to the landlord that we have to catch the 4.57 cheap "omnibus" train for Farthingheim. 5 A.M.--Row with landlord about _bougies_. Will charge for them, though we all went to bed in the dark. Explain this. He snaps his fingers in my face, calls me "_Ein schwindlinder Beleidiger!_" refuses to split the breakfasts, and seizes my portmanteau. 6 A.M.--Row still proceeding. Cheap train hopelessly missed. Look out "_Beleidiger_" in a dictionary, and go upstairs and collect all the _bougies_ in a carpet-bag. Pay bill in full, threaten to write to _Bradshaw_, and go off, carrying all our own luggage to station, followed by a jeering crowd. 7 A.M.--Sit down on it, and, with the assistance of a Phrase-book, tell the crowd in German that "this isn't the sort of treatment a parcel of foreigners would experience, under similar circumstances, in the Tottenham Court Road." Pelted. Make up our minds to catch the 7.43 (fast), if we can. 8 A.M.--Miss it. Nothing till the 12.3 express. Station-master refuses to take our luggage before 11.58. Start with it to the town. Crowd increasing. 9 A.M.--Visit the Dom. Descend into Shrine of St. Berthold. Very interesting. Guide well-informed and intelligent. Give him nothing on principle. Follows us to the Alten Schloss, shouting at the top of his voice, and shaking his fists. 10 A.M.--Go all over the Schloss. Capital state of preservation. Are shown the "reserved apartments." Refuse to give anything to the _concierge_. He comes out after us with a horse-whip. The guide still there shouting. We ask the way to tomb of Gustavus the Ninth. Crowd follows us with brickbats. 11 A.M.--Get in by the assistance of a very civil commissionaire. Striking. Are shown the boots of Charlemagne, and the spot where Rudolph the Eighteenth was assassinated. Sign our names in visitors' book. Give nobody anything. Commissionaire walks by our side, calling us "Brigands!" Crowd enormous. Symptoms of riot commencing. Reach station exhausted. 12 NOON.--Prepared to pay anything to escape. Take seven first-class tickets (express), and are charged nineteen thalers for excess of luggage. Get off in a storm of execration, after having to give up all the _bougies_ to a gendarme. Start, threatening feebly to write to the _Times_, have hysterics, and go to sleep. 1 P.M.--Still hysterical. 2 P.M.--Ditto. 3 P.M.--Still hysterical. 4 P.M.--Ditto. 5 P.M.--Ditto. 6 P.M.--Arrive. Refuse to hire a _voiture_. Tell the omnibus conductor, with the aid of the Phrase-book, that his tariff of fares is "utterly ridiculous." Set out on foot in search of a _gasthaus_ of moderate pretensions, where no English have been to demoralise the landlord and raise the prices. 7. P.M.--Still searching. 8 P.M.--Ditto. 9 P.M.--Ditto. 10 P.M.--Ditto. 11 P.M.--Find what we want at last, in a dark alley, turning out of a side street, running precipitously to the river. Dine at the late _table d'hôte_ with one commercial traveller, on pickled cherries, raw bacon, cabbage, sugar biscuits, horseflesh, and petrified figs. 12 MIDNIGHT.--Retire, and have nightmare. 1 A.M.--Endeavour to sleep on three chairs and a washhand-stand. Can't. Determine to write to the _Times_. 2 A.M.--Left writing. [Illustration: A DECLARATION INDEED! "Avez-vous quelquechose à déclarer, madame?" "Oh, wee! Je declar que noos avong pairdew too no baggarge!"] [Illustration: LE PIED ANGLAIS _Bathing Woman_ (_to English lady_). "Voilà, madame, une belle paire de chaussons." (_Noticing disapproval in visitor's face._) "Ah, madame n'en veut pas? Je suis désolée, mais, pour le moment, il ne me reste pas de plus grands."] [Illustration: AT THE PARIS EXHIBITION _He._ "There is Madame Chose flirting with a nigger! Why, she is only quite recently a widow." _She._ "Ah, that accounts for her choice. She is in mourning, and the black suits her!"] TOASTS FOR TRAVELLERS (_By our Continental Cynic_) Amiens--and may the cathedral compensate for the break of the journey. Boulogne--and may the bathing on the sands never land you in a hole. Calais--and may the luncheon at the buffet wipe away the recollection of a dusty passage. Dieppe--and may the comforts of an English hotel counterbalance the thraldom of foreign fashions. Evian-les-Bains--and may the waters be worthy of their reputation. Florence--and may the pictures soothe the irritation caused by an indifferent _table d'hôte_. Genoa--and may the view wash away the recollection of Italian uncleanliness. Heidelberg--and may the popular ruins survive the vulgarity of the personally conducted. Interlaken--and may sunset on the mountain be not disappointing. Jura--and may the pass satisfy general expectation. Kissingen--and may it be worth the bother of getting to it. Lucerne--and may its advertised "loveliness" not cause it to become impossible. Mannheim--and may its distance from anywhere not be a drawback to its few additional attractions. Nuremberg--and may its toys be worth the journey and the seeing. Naples--and may it not become necessary, owing to epidemics, to die there immediately after its inspection. Ouchy--and may it be a pleasant surprise after Lausanne. Rome--and may its monuments be seen without contracting its fever. St. Malo--and may it be reached without running aground in the neighbourhood of the Channel Islands. Turin--and may its departed glory revived reward the end of a tedious journey. Venice--and may it be seen before it is spoilt by the modern improver. Zurich--and may it be appreciated in spite of its inferiority to all neighbouring Continental attractions. [Illustration: FINIS] BRADBURY, AGNEW & CO., LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE Transcriber's Note: Sundry missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired. Page 183: '9 P.M.' corrected to '9 A.M.' to match context. 
45813	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the more than six hundred original illustrations. See 45813-h.htm or 45813-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45813/45813-h/45813-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45813/45813-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/picturesoflifech03leecuoft JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER from the collection of "Mr. Punch." [Illustration] JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER [Illustration: From the Collection of "Mr. Punch." London: Bradbury, Agnew, & Co., 8, 9, 10, Bouverie Street, E. C. 1887.] London: Bradbury, Agnew, & Co., Printers, Whitefriars. [Illustration: JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER.] [Illustration: _HISTORY.--THE ANCIENT BRITONS._ _Emily (reads)._ "IN THE SUMMER THEY WERE NAKED, AND INSTEAD OF CLOTHES THEY PUT PAINT UPON THEIR BODIES. THEY WERE FOND OF A FINE BLUE COLOUR, WHICH THEY MADE OF A PLANT CALLED WOAD, WHICH THEY FOUND IN THEIR WOODS. THEY SQUEEZED OUT THE JUICE OF THE WOAD, AND THEN STAINED THEMSELVES ALL OVER WITH IT, SO THAT IN SUMMER THEY LOOKED AS IF THEY WERE DRESSED IN TIGHT BLUE CLOTHES." _Arthur._ "AND DID THEY WALK IN THE PARK AND GO TO CHURCH SO?"] [Illustration: _A REAL TREASURE._ _Paterfamilias (suddenly arrived in Town)._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, MRS. WILKINS, WHY DIDN'T YOU FORWARD THESE LETTERS? THEY ARE OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE." _Mrs. Wilkins (the Treasure)._ "LOR, SIR! I SHOULD NEVER THINK O' FORWARDING SICH THINGS AS THEM. WHY, I SEE THEY WAS ONLY BUSINESS LETTERS FROM THE HORFICE, OR SOMETHINK O' THAT!"] [Illustration: _THE LESSON._ _Disgusted Instructor of Plungers._ "THERE YOU GO AGAIN! STICKING OUT YOUR TOES LIKE A _HINFANTRY HADJUTANT_!"] [Illustration: _THE DARLINGS COME OUT TO SEE THE 38TH OTHERSEX VOLUNTEERS DRILLED._ _Sergeant (appealingly)._ "NOW THEN, GENTLEMEN, ONCE MORE, EYES FRONT!--AND PRAY, GENTLEMEN--PRAY DON'T _STARE ABOUT YOU AS IF YOU WERE IN CHURCH_!"] [Illustration: _A WORD TO THE WISE._ _Discerning Child (who has heard some remarks made by Papa)._ "ARE YOU OUR NEW NURSE?" _Nurse._ "YES, DEAR!" _Child._ "WELL, THEN, I'M ONE OF THOSE BOYS WHO CAN ONLY BE MANAGED WITH KINDNESS--SO YOU HAD BETTER GET SOME SPONGE-CAKES AND ORANGES AT ONCE!"] [Illustration: _A POSER._ _Precocious Pupil._ "PLEASE, MISS JONES, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF SUBURBS?" _Governess (who is extensively Crinolined)._ "THE OUTSKIRTS OF A PLACE, MY DEAR." _Pupil (seizing Miss J. by the dress)._ "THEN, MISS JONES, ARE THESE _YOUR_ SUBURBS?"] [Illustration: _DINING UNDER DIFFICULTIES._] [Illustration: _EMPHATIC._ _Boy (to Nurse)._ "WHAT DID YOU SAY 'MADE HER ILL'?" _Nurse._ "'ARK AT YOU, HALFRED! I DIDN'T SAY, 'MADE 'ER HILL'; I SAID, 'SHE LIVED AT MAIDA 'ILL!!"] [Illustration: _CRUEL._ _Young Swell (loq.)._ "I SAY, THOMPSON, DO YOU THINK I SHALL EVER HAVE ANY WHISKERS?" _Thompson (after careful examination)._ "WELL, SIR, I REALLY DON'T THINK AS YOU EVER WILL--LEASTWAYS NOT TO SPEAK OF!" _Young Swell._ "THAT'S RATHER HARD, FOR MY PAP--I MEAN GOVERNOR--HAS PLENTY!" _Thompson (facetiously)._ "YES, SIR,--BUT P'R'APS YOU TAKE AFTER YOUR MA!" (_Total collapse of Y. S._)] [Illustration: _SEA-FISHING._ _Boatman._ "DON'T YER FEEL ANYTHINK YET, SIR? P'RAPS YOU'D BETTER TRY ANOTHER WORM."] [Illustration: _PROFESSIONAL._ _Mrs. Tongs._ "LOR, ADOLPHUS! HOW BEAUTIFUL THOSE BEANS SMELL." _Adolphus (probably in the hair-cutting line)._ "THEY DO, INDEED, MY LOVE! THEY REMIND ONE OF THE MOST DELICIOUS 'AIR OIL!"] [Illustration: _ONE NIGHT FROM HOME._ _Wife (to Unreasonable Monster)._ "IT'S OF NO USE, GEORGE, YOUR SAYING, 'HANG IT, MARIA;' I MUST HAVE SOME PLACE TO PUT MY THINGS!"] [Illustration: _THE VOLUNTEER REVIEW._ _Policeman (who, we are bound to say, is extremely civil)._ "WHITE TICKET, MA'AM? LETTER H?--YES, MA'AM. QUITE RIGHT. OVER THE HURDLES, IF YOU PLEASE!"] [Illustration: _A SKETCH IN ST. JAMES'S STREET._ _Odious Juvenile._ "OH, LOOK YE 'ERE, BILL, 'ERE'S A VOLUNTEER CORPSE FOR YER!"] [Illustration: _MAKING THE BEST OF IT._ _Irate Proctor._ "SIR, I SENT YOU BACK TO YOUR COLLEGE ONLY FIVE MINUTES AGO, TO INVEST YOURSELF IN YOUR ACADEMICAL COSTUME!" _Fast Freshman (with affability)._ "YES! AND HERE WE ARE AGAIN! ISN'T IT ODD?"] [Illustration: _A FACETIOUS INFERENCE._ _Sarcastic Peeler._ "GOING TO 'AVE A NEW 'ORSE, THEN, CABBY?" _Cabby._ "NEW 'OSS! 'OW DY'E MEAN?" _Sarcastic Peeler._ "WHY, YOU'VE GOT THE FRAMEWORK TOGETHER ALREADY!"] [Illustration: _UNEXPECTED BLISS._ _Swell (dressing)._ "HURRAH!! BY JOVE, THERE'S A BUTTON AT THE BACK OF MY SHIRT!!!"] [Illustration: _TOO CLEVER BY HALF!_ _First Boy._ "ARE YOU IN A HURRY WITH THAT LETTER, BILL?" _Second Ditto._ "YES. IT'S TO BE DELIVERED IMMEDIATELY, AND I'M TO WAIT." _First Boy._ "WELL! WAIT HERE, AND HAVE A GAME AT PITCH AND TOSS, AND DELIVER IT IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS."] [Illustration: _THE CROSSING-SWEEPER NUISANCE._] [Illustration: _A SERIOUS DRAWBACK._ _Hideous Old Lady of Fashion (with Plain Daughter)._ "CHARMING BALL AT SIR CHARLES'S LAST NIGHT! EVERYBODY THERE--GOOD ROOMS, NOT OVER-CROWDED--CAPITAL SUPPER! DEAREST BARBARA ENJOYED HERSELF PRODIGIOUSLY! I DON'T SEE, HOWEVER, HOW I CAN WELL AVOID ASKING _HIS_ SISTER AND NIECE TO _MY_ BALL, NEXT WEEK, HE IS SO FOND OF THEM; AND YET YOU KNOW THAT THEY ARE PEOPLE WHO DO NOT GO OUT NEARLY AS MUCH AS WE DO, AND ARE NOT AT ALL IN OUR POSITION IN SOCIETY!"] [Illustration: _A TU QUOQUE._ _Sunday-School Teacher._ "OH, JOHNNY, I'M SHOCKED TO SEE YOU PLAYING WITH YOUR TOP. YOU SHOULD LEAVE YOUR TOYS AT HOME ON A SUNDAY!" _Johnny (quick, but impudent)._ "THEN WHY DO YOU COME OUT WITH YOUR HOOP?"] [Illustration: _LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET._] [Illustration: _A HOPEFUL PROSPECT._ _Clara._ "WHAT DOES TOMMY THINK? WHY, TOMMY HAS JUST GOT A NEW LITTLE BROTHER!" _Tommy._ "HAVE I, THOUGH? HOW JOLLY!--THERE'LL BE SOMEBODY NOW TO WEAR MY OLD CLOTHES!"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. XIII. _Lady._ "THEN I SUPPOSE YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF PERFECTLY COMPETENT TO HEAR THE CHILDREN THEIR LESSONS, SHOULD THEY STAY AWAY FROM SCHOOL ANY DAY?" _Candidate for Situation._ "HOH, YES, MEM! THE FAMILY I WERE WITH, SAID I HADN'T OUGHTER BE ANYTHINK BUT A NUSSERY GUVNESS!"] [Illustration: _A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY._ _Swell (who has received Four Penn'orth of Coppers in Change)._ "HERE! BY JOVE, YOU KNOW LOOK HERE! HI! WHAT THE DEUCE!--I SAY--WHAT AM I TO DO WITH THESE HA'PENCE, YOU KNOW?"] [Illustration: _BEWARE OF ARTILLERY WHISKERS!_ THIS IS THE CRITICAL POSITION OF LOUISA AND CAPTAIN CHARLEY BANG--HIS WHISKER CAUGHT IN HER EARRING, AND PAPA KNOCKING AT THE DOOR!] [Illustration: _SELF-IMPORTANCE._ _Small Cousin._ "DO YOU KNOW, ALICE, IT JUST OCCURS TO ME THAT THE GUARD THINKS WE ARE A RUNAWAY COUPLE!"] [Illustration: _IN SEARCH OF A VICTIM._ _Alfred._ "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, UNCLE, WE WANT TO PLAY AT BEING WILLIAM TELL; WILL YOU BE SO KIND AS TO STAND WITH THE APPLE ON YOUR HEAD?"] [Illustration: _A DIFFERENCE IN OPINION._ _Boy._ "Isn't it very naughty of papa to tell stories?" _Mamma._ "Well, dear, it would be--but what do you mean?" _Boy._ "Why, papa says, that toffee is nasty trash--and it's so very delicious, you know!"] [Illustration: _SEVERE._ _Old Lady._ "Ah thin, bad luck to ye, Grigory! Where's your manners? One would think ye was in a gintleman's house, standin' before the fire with yer coat-tails up, and ladies present, too!"] [Illustration: _LATE FROM THE SCHOOL-ROOM._ _Minnie._ "I am reading such a pretty tale." _Governess._ "You must say narrative, Minnie--not tale!" _Minnie._ "Yes, ma'am; and do just look at Muff, how he's wagging his narrative!"] [Illustration: _POSITIVE FACT, OF COURSE._ A MESSAGE COMES OFF ON MRS. BLUEBAG'S LINEN, WHICH SHE IS HANGING, AS USUAL, ON THE TELEGRAPH WIRES.] [Illustration: _A DELICATE HINT._ _Sentimental Young Lady (to Friend)._ "OH, ISN'T IT A PRETTY SIGHT TO SEE THE POOR HORSE DRINK!" _Driver (confidentially and insinuatingly)._ "SURE, THIN, IT WOULD BE A DALE PRETTIER SIGHT, MISS, TO SEE _ME_ DRINK!"] [Illustration: _THE DRAWING ROOM._ (_A stoppage of a few minutes is supposed to take place._) _Dreadful Boy (on Lamp Post)._ "Oh! My eye, Bill! 'ere's a rose-bud!"] [Illustration: _A CAUTION TO THE UNWARY._ THE READER IS REQUESTED TO OBSERVE, THAT THE LOWER EXTREMITIES REPRESENTED ABOVE DO _NOT_ BELONG TO THE FAIR DAMSEL ON THE PLANK, BUT TO THE BOATMAN BEYOND, UPON WHOSE SHOULDER SHE IS LEANING.--WE, HOWEVER, RECOMMEND FLORA TO BE MORE CAREFUL HOW SHE COMPOSES HERSELF THE NEXT TIME SHE GETS OUT OF A BOAT.] [Illustration: _THE DIGNITY OF AGE._ "SO, CHARLEY, I HEAR YOU HAVE BEEN TO A JUVENILE PARTY!" _Precocious Boy._ "WELL, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU CALL JUVENILE. THERE WAS NO ONE THERE UNDER FIVE YEARS OLD!"] [Illustration: _AN INJURED BROTHER._ _Mamma._ "DEAR! DEAR! DEAR!--WHAT A PITY IT IS YOU CAN'T AGREE!" _Small Boy._ "WELL, MAMMA, WE SHOULD AGREE, ONLY SHE'S SO UNKIND!--SHE WON'T BE A PIG, AND LET ME DRIVE HER ABOUT BY THE LEG!"] [Illustration: _THOSE HORRID BOYS AGAIN!_ _Boy (to distinguished Volunteer.)_ "NOW, CAPTING! CLEAN YER BOOTS, AND LET YER 'AVE A SHOT AT ME FOR A PENNY!"] [Illustration: _GOING OUT OF TOWN._ _Paterfamilias._ "I WAS THINKING, DARLING, THAT PERHAPS, AS IT IS A VERY LONG JOURNEY, IT WOULD BE BETTER IF I WENT _FIRST_, AND GOT EVERYTHING COMFORTABLE. YOU COULD THEN TRAVEL DOWN WITH NURSE AND THE CHILDREN AFTERWARDS." [_Mamma doesn't seem to see it, and Nurse and Mamma-in-Law think him a brute._] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTARY TO PATERFAMILIAS._ _Sister Amy._ "MY DEAR ROSE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?--MAMMA WILL BE VERY ANGRY!" _Rose._ "WHY, WALTER WANTS TO BE LIKE PAPA, SO, I'M JUST THINNING HIS HAIR AT THE TOP!"] [Illustration: _YES, ON SOME PEOPLE._ THE DEAR LITTLE SPANISH HAT. OH, SO CHARMING, AND SO MUCH MORE SENSIBLE THAN A HORRID BONNET] [Illustration: _UNMINDFUL OF DIGNITARIES._ _Officious Proctor._ "SIR!!--PRAY, ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THIS UNIVERSITY?" _Military Swell._ "NO, I'M NOT, OLD FELLOW.--ARE YOU?"] [Illustration: _AN UNEXPECTED "CHANGE."_ _Railway Clerk._ "HAVE YOU GOT TWOPENCE, SIR?" _Swell._ "DEAW, NO! NEVAW HAD TWOPENCE IN MY LIFE!" _Clerk._ "THEN I MUST GIVE YOU TENPENCE IN COPPER, SIR!" (_Swell is immensely delighted, of course._)] [Illustration: _A GORDIAN KNOT FOR ROBINSON._ _Miss Selina Hardman._ "WOULD YOU BE SO GOOD, SIR, AS TO GIVE ME A LEAD OVER?"] [Illustration: _A FACT._ _Jeames._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MA'AM, HERE IS _MASTER_ CARLO! BUT I CAN'T SEE _MISS_ FLOSS NOWHERES!"] [Illustration: _WIND, S.W. FRESH._ TOMKINS, WHO IS NOT GRAND IN THE LEG DEPARTMENT, SAYS, "IT'S A VERY DISAGREEABLE DAY." THE YOUNG LADIES, HOWEVER, FOR OBVIOUS REASONS, ENJOY IT AMAZINGLY.] [Illustration: _OUR VOLUNTEERS._ _Foreign Party._ "MAIS, MOSIEU BOOL, I AVE ALL WAYS THOUGHT YOU VASS GREAT SHOPKEEPARE!" _Mr Bool._ "SO I AM, MOSSOO--AND THESE ARE SOME OF THE BOYS WHO MIND THE SHOP!--COMPRENNY?"] [Illustration: _A COMFORTER._ _Sympathetic Swell (devoted to the Noble Science)._ "GOT A WRETCHED COLD! NO, WEALLY? THAT'S A BAD JOB, OLD FELLA,--MIGHT HA' BEEN WORSE, THOUGH--HORSE MIGHT HAVE HAD IT, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _TRAVELLERS' LUGGAGE._ _Elderly Passenger._ "GOING OUT FISHING, I PRESUME, YOUNG GENTLEMAN?" _Young Ditto._ "NO! IT AIN'T FISHING-RODS--IT'S SKY ROCKETS I'M TAKING DOWN FOR MY COUSIN'S BIRTHDAY. Have A weed?"] [Illustration: _POLITICAL PROSPECTS._ _Ragged Capitalist to Ditto._ "THE WAR CAN'T LAST, SIR; FRANCE AND AUSTRIA HAVEN'T THE MEANS; THEY MUST COME TO US FOR MONEY BEFORE LONG."] [Illustration: _WHAT'S TO BE DONE IN JULY?_ WHAT'S TO BE DONE IN JULY? WHY, RIDE DOWN TO RICHMOND WITH MAMMA AND THE GIRLS, AND GIVE 'EM A LITTLE DINNER, TO BE SURE!] [Illustration: _MOST OFFENSIVE._ _Railway Porter._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, WAS THIS YOUR'N?"] [Illustration: _FRIENDLY PRESCRIPTION._ _Fiend in Human Shape._ "DON'T FEEL WELL! TRY A CIGAR!"] [Illustration: _THE ABUSE OF THE ASPIRATE._ CAPTAIN DE SMITH REMONSTRATES WITH MR. HOLMES, THE VET OF HIS REGIMENT, FOR MAL-PRONUNCIATION OF THE WORD HORSE. TO HIM THE VET: "WELL, IF A _HAITCH_, AND A _HO_, AND A _HAR_, AND A _HESS_, AND A _HE_, DON'T SPELL 'ORSE, MY NAME AIN'T 'ENERY 'OMES!"] [Illustration: "_A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE WISHED._" _Mrs. Colley Wobble._ "H'M, SO THEY ARE GOING TO TAX PEOPLE WHO MAKE THEIR OWN BEER, ARE THEY? THEN I DON'T BREW ANY MORE!"] [Illustration: _POLITE ATTENTION._ _Lady._ "OH, NONSENSE, CHILD--THERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE!" _Boy._ "NO, 'M. PLEASE, 'M, TWO YOUNG GENTS SAID IT LOOKED LIKE RAIN, AND I WAS TO FETCH YOU HOME IN THIS 'ERE CHEER!]" [Illustration: _AWKWARD FOR PAPA._ _Papa._ "WELL, MY DEAR, DID YOU TELL MAMMA THAT MISS MYRTLE WAS WAITING TO SEE HER?" _Child._ "YES, PA!" _Papa._ "AND WHAT DID SHE SAY?" _Child._ "SHE SAID, _WHAT A BOTHER!_"] [Illustration: _SUMMER VISITORS._] [Illustration: _THE DISTRICT TELEGRAPH._ INVALUABLE TO THE MAN OF BUSINESS. _First Partner (to Second ditto)._ "WHAT AN AGE WE LIVE IN! TALK OF THE INTRODUCTION OF STEAM OR OF GAS! JUST LOOK AT THE FACILITIES AFFORDED US BY ELECTRICITY. IT IS NOW SIX O'CLOCK AND WE ARE IN FLEET STREET, AND THIS MESSAGE WAS ONLY SENT FROM OXFORD STREET YESTERDAY AFTERNOON AT THREE!"] [Illustration: _RELAXATION._ _Scene--Smoking Room. Country House._ 2·30 A.M. _Country Friend (to Johnson, who has had a long tramp of it in the rain after wild birds)._ "WELL, GOOD NIGHT, OLD FELLOW! IF YOU WON'T HAVE ANOTHER WEED. REMEMBER!--CUB-HUNTING IN THE MORNING, HALF-PAST FIVE. DON'T BE LATE!"] [Illustration: _OLD SCHOOL._ _Mr. Grapes (helping himself to another glass of that fine old Madeira)._ "HAH! WE LIVE IN STRANGE TIMES--WHAT THE DOOCE CAN PEOPLE WANT WITH DRINKING FOUNTAINS!"] [Illustration: _DABBLING._ _Master Jack (to very refined Governess, who has suddenly appeared)._ "OH, MISS FINNIKIN, DO COME IN; IT'S SO AWFULLY JOLLY!"] [Illustration: _HOW TO MAKE A WATERING-PLACE PLEASANT, PARTICULARLY TO INVALIDS._ TIME, 6·30 A.M. (_A Hint to the Powers that be at Sandbath._)] [Illustration: _IN THE VOLUNTEERS._ _Small Effective._ "--AND THEN, JUST LOOK AT THE IMMENSE IMPROVEMENT IN THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF OUR FELLOWS!"] [Illustration: _A DAY'S PLEASURE._ OH! ISN'T IT DELIGHTFUL, GETTING YOUR BOOTS OFF AFTER A THOROUGH WET DAY'S HUNTING!] [Illustration: _SEA-SIDE STUDIES._ _Impertinent Cousin (reads)._ "_'The rocks along our Coast may be seen studded with these beautiful zoophites. * * * The skin is soft, and the tentacles are of the finest violet, mingled often with pink, mauve, green, and yellow; indeed the colours vary so much in different individuals, all alike beautiful, that it is impossible to describe them rigidly. * * * During the ebb of the tide, these creatures may be contemplated on a fine day to great advantage, and few spectacles are calculated to afford more pleasure to a lover of Nature._'--H'M!--HERE ARE TWO LOVELY SPECIMENS, FRED! YOU TAKE ONE, AND I'LL TAKE THE OTHER!"] [Illustration: _CONSIDERATE ATTENTION._ _Paterfamilias (who is stout and a Volunteer also)._ "OHO! MY NEW UNIFORM--COME HOME, I SEE!" _Family._ "YES, PA DEAR! AND WE'VE TRIED IT ON THE WATER-BUTT, AND IT LOOKS SO NICE!"] [Illustration: _PORTRAIT OF A CERTAIN STUDENT WHO IS READING SO HARD AT THE SEA-SIDE._] [Illustration: _THE LAST DAY AT THE SEA-SIDE.--PACKING UP._ _Maid (to Paterfamilias.)_ "PLEASE, SIR, MISSUS SAY YOU'RE TO COME IN, AND SIT ON THE BOXES; BECAUSE WE CAN'T GET 'EM TO, AND THEY WANTS TO BE CORDED."] [Illustration: _"WELL! THE BOLDNESS OF SOME PEOPLE!"--A SKETCH ON THE BRIGHTON COAST._] [Illustration: _AN EXCESS OF CLEANLINESS._ _Old Party (very naturally excited)._ "WHY, CONFOUND YOU! YOU ARE WIPING MY PLATE WITH YOUR HANDKERCHIEF!" _Waiter (blandly)._ "IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE, SIR--IT'S ONLY A DIRTY ONE!"] [Illustration: _THE LAST SWEET THING IN HATS._] [Illustration: _A GROUND SWELL._ _Party (who doesn't suffer)._ "BRACING! AIN'T IT, JACK? I ALWAYS THINK THAT THE BEAUTY OF SAILING IS, YOU GET AIR AND MOTION WITHOUT FATIGUE. DON'T YOU THINK SO. EH?" (_Circumstances over which he has no control prevent Jack from speaking his mind._)] [Illustration: _AN EXPERIMENT ON A VILE BODY._ _Medical Pupil (after dragging a patient round the surgery, succeeds in extracting a tooth)._ "COME! THAT'S NOT SO BAD FOR A FIRST ATTEMPT!"] [Illustration: _EXTRAVAGANCE._ "NOW, YOUNG UNS, CUT AWAY--BLOW THE EXPENSE!"] [Illustration: _SCENE IN A MODERN STUDIO._ JACK ARMSTRONG HAS PAINTED A MODERN SUBJECT, FROM REAL LIFE, AND PAINTED IT UNCOMMONLY WELL.--STRANGE TO SAY, HE HAS SOLD HIS PICTURE. MESSRS. FEEBLE AND POTTER (_very high-art men, who can't get on without mediæval costume, and all the rest of it_) THINK IT A MISTAKE.--CURIOUSLY ENOUGH, _THEIR_ PICTURES ARE UNSOLD!] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE A DESCRIPTION._ _Young Stickleback._ "POR-TAW! HAVE YOU SEEN A FRIEND OF MINE WAITING ABOUT HE-AW?" _Porter._ "FRIEND, SIR! WHAT SORT OF GENTLEMAN WAS HE?" _Young Stickleback._ "HAW! TALL--MILITARY-LOOKING MAN, WITH MOUSTACHERS--SOMETHING LIKE ME!"] [Illustration: _GONE AWAY!_ _Old Coachman._ "NOW, MISS ELLEN! MISS ELLEN! YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR PA SAID! YOU WAS TO TAKE THE GREATEST CARE OF JOEY!" _Miss Ellen._ "SO I WILL, ROBERT! AND THAT'S WHY I AM TAKING HIM OFF THE NASTY HARD ROAD, POOR THING!"] [Illustration: _NEW LEATHERS, TOO!_ _Jones (very particular man)._ "H'M! THIS COMES OF BRINGING DOWN A BOTTLE OF HUNTING VARNISH FOR A FRIEND!"] [Illustration: _FANCY SKETCH._ THE PARTY WHO OBJECTS TO THE NEW RIDE IN KENSINGTON GARDENS--AND WON'T HE SPOUT AT THE VESTRY!] [Illustration: _A PROPER PRECAUTION._ _Mistress._ "THERE, SIR! THERE'S A BOTTLE OF EAU DE COLOGNE FOR YOU, AND DON'T LET ME HAVE OCCASION TO COMPLAIN AGAIN!" _Stirrups (the Party who looks after the Horse and Chaise)._ "YES, MUM; BUT BE OI TO DRINK IT?" _Mistress._ "NO, SIR; YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT AT TABLE TO-NIGHT, AND YOU ARE TO SPRINKLE IT OVER YOUR BEST LIVERY, THAT YOU MAY NOT BRING INTO THE HOUSE THAT DREADFUL EFFLUVIUM FROM THE STABLE THAT YOU HAVE HITHERTO DONE!"] [Illustration: _A PROBLEM FOR YOUNG LADIES._ GIVEN, THE ELEGANT REGINALD FIPPS, WHO USED TO WALTZ SO BEAUTIFULLY, PERFORMING THE ABOVE KINDLY AND MOST NEEDFUL OPERATION, AT THE END OF A PIER, WHILE THE BAND IS PLAYING--WHAT RELATION IS HE TO THE DARLING OPERATED UPON?] [Illustration: _A COINCIDENCE._ AS LITTLE GRIGLEY IS ON HIS WAY TO CALL UPON THOSE JOLLY GURLS HE MET ON NEW YEAR'S EVE, HE THINKS HE WILL HAVE HIS BOOTS TOUCHED UP. JUST AS THE POLISHING BEGINS, THE JOLLY GURLS COME ROUND THE CORNER. "DOOCED AWKWARD! WASN'T IT?" AS LITTLE GRIGLEY SAID.] [Illustration: _YOUNG ENGLAND._ _Henry._ "I SAY, CHARLEY, WHERE DO YOU DINE TO-NIGHT?" _Charley._ "AW, DINE WITH YOUR BROTHER!" _Henry._ "DOOSE YOU DO--WORST WINE I EVER DRUNK IN MY LIFE!" _Charley._ "BY JOVE, THEN, YOU NEVER DINED WITH MY GOVERNOR!"] [Illustration: _POOR LITTLE FELLOW!_ _Emily._ "WANT SOMETHING TO AMUSE YOU! WHY, I HAVE GIVEN YOU BOOK AFTER BOOK, AND LENT YOU MY PAINT-BOX, AND I'VE OFFERED TO TEACH YOU YOUR NOTES. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?" _Augustus._ "OH, AH! I DON'T CALL THAT AMUSEMENT. I WANT SOME FIGS! OR SOME GINGERBREAD NUTS! OR A GOOD LOT OF TOFFEE!! THAT'S WHAT I CALL AMUSEMENT."] [Illustration: _HELD IN CHECK._] [Illustration: _ONE OF THE RIGHT SORT._ _Grandmamma._ "WHAT _CAN_ YOU WANT, ARTHUR, TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL SO PARTICULARLY ON MONDAY FOR? I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO STAY WITH US TILL THE END OF THE WEEK!" Arthur. "WHY, YOU SEE, GRAN'MA--WE ARE GOING TO ELECT OFFICERS FOR OUR RIFLE CORPS ON MONDAY, AND I DON'T LIKE TO BE OUT OF IT!"] [Illustration: _A TERRIBLE THREAT._ _Master Jack._ "NOW THEN, CHARLOTTE, ARE YOU GOING TO LEND ME YOUR PAINT BOX?" _Charlotte._ "NO, SIR. YOU KNOW WHAT A MESS YOU MADE OF IT LAST TIME!" _Master Jack._ "VERY WELL. THEN I'LL PUT MY GUINEA PIG ON YOUR NECK!"] [Illustration: _ON THE WAY TO THE PARK._] [Illustration: _FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON._ _Aunt Sally (who is very particular)._ "WELL, DEAR, DID YOU HAVE A NICE RIDE?" _Diana (who is particular too, but jolly)._ "OH! _DELICIOUS_, AUNTY; AND DO YOU KNOW, WE FELL IN WITH THE HOUNDS--FOUND A FOX AT MERRY'S GORSE, RUN HIM WITHOUT A CHECK FOR TWENTY MINUTES UP TO FRIAR'S PLANTATION--BOTHERED US A LITTLE THERE, BUT WE HIT HIM OFF AGAIN, AND AWAY WE WENT AS HARD AS WE COULD SPLIT, OVER SIMMONS' ENCLOSURES--INTO BROADFIELD PARK--RIGHT THROUGH OLD LADY GOLLOP'S GARDEN--YOU NEVER SAW SUCH A SIGHT--DIDN'T STOP THERE, BUT STEAMED AWAY DOWN FRESHWATER VALE, AND KILLED HIM IN THE OPEN, CLOSE TO DOLLMAN'S HEATH--AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES BY MY LITTLE WATCH, AND CHARLEY BANGOROFT SAYS I WENT LIKE A BIRD, AND I'VE ASKED HIM IN TO LUNCH, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S BECOME OF POLES AND THE COACH-HORSE!"] [Illustration: _CAPILLARY ATTRACTIONS._ _Miss Stout._ "THE WORST OF LETTING ONE'S BACK HAIR DOWN IS, THAT IT MAKES THE YOUNG MEN STARE SO."] [Illustration: _AN ENGLISH GOLD FIELD._] [Illustration: _A GOLD FIELD IN THE "DIGGINS."_] [Illustration: _WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT?_ THAT EXEMPLARY YOUNG MAN, JOSIAH SMUG, OF CLAPHAM, WOULDN'T GO TO SUCH A PLACE AS EPSOM FOR THE WORLD--BUT HE HAS NO OBJECTION TO RIDE ONE OF HIS FATHER'S HORSES BY WAY OF EXERCISE.] [Illustration: WE ARE SORRY TO SAY THAT THIS IS THE SAME EXEMPLARY YOUNG PARTY AS HE APPEARED RETURNING FROM THE DERBY!] [Illustration: _THE LATEST FAST THING._ _Constance._ "OH, ISN'T IT AWFULLY JOLLY? GEORGE HAS BOUGHT THIS PRIVATE HANSOM, AND I'M GOING TO DRIVE HIM OVER TO SEE GRANDPAPA!"] [Illustration: _AMBITION._ _Lady._ "BUT I THOUGHT THAT YOU AND THE OTHER SERVANTS WERE PERFECTLY SATISFIED!" _Flunkey._ "WELL, MEM, I AIN'T IN NO WAYS DISCONTENTED WITH MY WAGES, NOR WITH THE VITTELS, NOR NOTHINK OF THAT--BUT THE FACT IS, MY FRIENDS SAY THAT A YOUNG MAN OF MY APPEARANCE OUGHT TO BETTER HISSELF, AND GET INTO A SITUATION WHERE THERE'S TWO MEN BEHIND THE CARRIDGE!" (_Poor Fellow!_)] [Illustration: _ACCEPTING A SITUATION._ MAMMA AND THAT URCHIN WILLIAM GET ROUND SAFELY, BUT AUGUSTUS AND EMILY ARE OVERTAKEN BY THE TIDE. WELL! WELL! THEY ARE ABOVE HIGH-WATER MARK, SO PERHAPS THEY WON'T BE VERY MISERABLE FOR THE NEXT HOUR OR TWO.] [Illustration: _THE SKETCHING MASTER._] [Illustration: _THE ARISTOCRATIC HOTEL COMPANY (LIMITED)._ A PROBABLE SCENE, IF OUR NOBLE LORDS GO ON DABBLING IN BUSINESS.] [Illustration: _AN INQUIRING MIND._ _Arthur._ "MAMMA! ISN'T MR. BLANQUE A WICKED MAN?" _Mamma._ "WICKED, MY DEAR! NO! WHAT MAKES YOU ASK SUCH A QUESTION?" _Arthur._ "WHY, BECAUSE, MAMMA DEAR, WHEN HE COMES INTO CHURCH, HE DOESN'T _SMELL HIS HAT_ AS OTHER PEOPLE DO!"] [Illustration: _HEALTHY AND AMUSING GAME._ _Flora._ "GOOD GRACIOUS! REGINALD, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN ABOUT?" _Reginald._ "OH, NOTHING! WE'VE ONLY BEEN PLAYING AT BEING TOM SAYERS AND THE BENICIA BOY!"] [Illustration: _GENEROUS OFFER._ _Cabby._ "NOW THEN, SIR! JUMP IN. DRIVE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND FOR EIGHTEEN PENCE!"] [Illustration: _NATURAL IMPATIENCE._] [Illustration: _RATHER A KNOWING THING IN NETS._ _Admiring Friend._ "WHY FRANK! WHAT A CAPITAL DODGE!" _Frank._ "A--YA-AS. MY BEARD IS SUCH A BORE, THAT I HAVE TAKEN A HINT FROM THE FAIR SEX."] [Illustration: _THE MARRIAGE QUESTION._ _Brown._ "SO, YOU'RE GOING TO MARRY OLD MRS. YELLOWBOYCE. WELL, I THINK YOU'RE A DOOCED LUCKY FELLAH!" _Jones._ "BY JOVE, I DON'T THINK THE LUCK IS ALL ON MY SIDE! IF SHE FINDS MONEY, HANG IT, I FIND BLOOD AND--HAW--BEAUTY!"] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE MOUNTAIN AIR._ _Tourist (who has been refreshing himself with the Toddy of the Country)._ "I SHAY, OLE FLER! HIGHLANDS SEEM TO 'GREE WITH YOU WONERFLY--ANNOMISHTAKE. WHY, YOU LOOK DOUBLE THE MAN ALREADY!"] [Illustration: _SUBJECT FOR A PICTURE._ _Photographer._ "NOW, SIR! 'AVE YER CART DE VISIT DONE?"] [Illustration: _CANINE._ _Patron._ "WELL, BUT YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT SUCH A DAWG AS THAT COULD DRAW A BADGER?" _Fancier._ "NOT DRAW A BADGER? WHY, BLESS YER 'ART, IT WOULD BE A LITTLE 'OLIDAY TO HIM!"] [Illustration: _HINT TO TRAVELLERS._ IF YOU ARE OBLIGED TO CROSS THE CHANNEL, GET AS NEAR MID-SHIPS AS POSSIBLE (NEVER MIND THE MOVEMENT OF THE ENGINES, OR THE SMELL OF THE OIL), AND--IT WILL BE SOONER OVER.] [Illustration: _LATEST FROM ABROAD--POWDER AND ALL THE REST OF IT._ _Old Miss Fribble._ "HEM! CUT THESE OLD-FASHIONED MINXES OUT--FLATTER MYSELF!"] [Illustration: _THE CLERICAL BEARD MOVEMENT._ WE DO NOT FOR ONE MOMENT PRESUME TO SAY WHETHER IT IS RIGHT OR WRONG,--ONLY, IF THIS SORT OF THING IS TO PREVAIL, WHAT'S TO BECOME OF CAPTAIN HEAVYSWELL?] [Illustration: "_BY YOUR LEAVE!_" _Porter._ "NOW, MARM, WILL YOU PLEASE TO MOVE, OR WAS YOU CORDED TO YOUR BOX?"] [Illustration: _SOOTHING EXPLANATION._ _Cabby._ "YOU'VE NO CALL TO GET OUT, SIR! HE'S ONLY A LITTLE OKARD AT STARTIN'!"] [Illustration: _RESOURCES OF THE ESTABLISHMENT._ _Old Tourist._ "PRAY, WAITER, IS THERE ANYTHING TO WILE AWAY THE TIME UNTIL THE DINNER-HOUR?" _Waiter._ "YESSIR; WHICH WOULD YOU PLEASE TO TAKE, SIR?--_WINE_ OR _SPIRITS_, SIR?"] [Illustration: _A LIKELY CASE._ _Fiery Instructor to trembling Pupil._ "NOW, SIR! COME! I KNOW YOU! DON'T ATTEMPT TO BULLY ME, SIR--IT WON'T SUCCEED, I CAN TELL YOU!"] [Illustration: _RATHER VULGAR, BUT PERFECTLY TRUE._ _Boatman (in the distance)._ "I SAY, JACK, GOT A MOSSEL O' BAIT TO SPARE?" JACK. "WELL, I CAN'T LET YER HAVE NO WUMS; BUT I DON'T MIND LENDING YER A BIT O' BULLOCK'S LIVER TO OBLIGE A LADY!"] [Illustration: _STOLEN PLEASURES ARE SWEET._ PORTRAIT OF TOMKINS, UNDER THE DELUSION THAT THE PUBLIC TAKES THE OLD GENTLEMAN'S GROOM FOR HIS.] [Illustration: _THE CABMAN'S GUIDE._ _Lady._ "OH! PLEASE CABMAN, DRIVE ME TO ST. BARNABAS' CHURCH. YOU GO UP EBURY STREET, AND TAKE----" _Cabman._ "I KNOW--HOPPOSITE THE THREE COMPASSES!"] [Illustration: _FALSE ALARM, SURELY!_ _Miss Priscilla (with the Dog)._ "YES, IT'S THE WORST OF THESE WATERING-PLACES. THERE ARE SO MANY ADVENTURERS ON THE LOOK OUT FOR WIVES, THAT ONE IS ALWAYS IN FEAR OF BEING PROPOSED TO!"] [Illustration: _PITIABLE OBJECTS._ _Mr. Done (to Mr. Dreary)._ "NO! A DON'T KNOW HOW IT IS--BUT I AIN'T THE THING SOMEHOW! NO EMBAWASSMENTS OR ANYTHING O' THAT SORT. CAN'T MAKE IT OUT. S'POSE IT'S _OVERWORK_!"] [Illustration: _TOO BAD, BY JOVE! YOU KNOW._ _Swell._ "OH, NAWN-SENSE; HALF-A-CROWN'S TOO MUCH. HERE'S EIGHTEEN-PENCE. I AIN'T SUCH A FOOL AS I LOOK!" _Cabby._ "AIN'T YER, SIR? THEN I ONLY WISH YER _WOS_!"] [Illustration: _A CHANCE FOR JEAMES._] [Illustration: _VERY RUDE, INDEED._ _Little Boy._ "OH, MY EYE! THERE GOES EIGHTPENCE OUT OF A SHILLING!"] [Illustration: _NATURE WHEN UNADORNED, &c._ MAJOR ALDERSHOT, RETURNING FROM PARADE, FLATTERS HIMSELF THAT HIS RAT-TAILED CHARGER IS MUCH ADMIRED SINCE THE SADDLER HAS SUPPLIED HIM WITH A NEW TAIL.] [Illustration: _A SEA-SIDE SUBJECT.--JOLLY FOR THE PARTY IN SEARCH OF REPOSE._ _N.B. The Old Lady with the Parrot encourages Organ-Grinders, and when the Moon shines bright and clear, doesn't the Black Dog come out!_] [Illustration: _DOOSED AGGRAVATING FOR CORNET FLINDERS._ _Darling (coaxingly to Favourite Hack)._ "IT WAS A NICE 'ITTLE SOFT NOSE, IT WAS--AND IT HAD VERY NICE EYES, IT HAD--AND IT WAS VERY HANDSOME, IT WAS--AND IT WAS A NICE 'ITTLE SING ALTOGETHER!!"] [Illustration: _MRS. J. HAS THE BEST OF IT._ _Paterfamilias._ "MRS. JONES! M-MATILDA! WHY!--EH!--WHAT THE DEUCE--?" _Mrs. J._ "YES, MR. J. YOU HAVE BEEN GOING ON SO ABOUT THE CRINOLINE, THAT I THOUGHT I WOULD TRY HOW YOU LIKED THIS STYLE OF THING. SO, COME, JONES, COME OUT FOR A WALK!"] [Illustration: _OPPOSITE OPINIONS._ WHILE THEY ARE AT SCARBOROUGH, PATERFAMILIAS THINKS HIS LITTLE ONES OUGHT TO LOSE NO OPPORTUNITY OF DRINKING THE WATERS.] [Illustration: _LA MODE--THE ZOUAVE JACKET._ _Miss Stout._ "WELL NOW DEAR, I CALL IT CHARMING, AND SHALL MOST CERTAINLY HAVE ONE MYSELF!"] [Illustration: _CAUSE AND EFFECT._ _Housemaid._ "DRAT THE BOTHERING CHINA CUPS AND THINGS. THEY BE ALWAYS A-KNOCKING UP AGAINST ONE'S CRINOLINE."] [Illustration: _NOT SUCH A BAD THING IN A SHOWER._] [Illustration: _A WICKET PROCEEDING._ _Georgina._ "WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH MY LITTLE POPPET?" _Little Poppet._ "OH, AUNTY DEAR, WALTER CAN'T FIND HIS STUMPS, SO HE'S MAKING A WICKET OF MY BEST DOLL!"] [Illustration: _A TYRANT._ _Master Jacky (who pursues the fagging system even when home for the holidays)._ "OH, HERE YOU ARE! I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU GIRLS EVERYWHERE. NOW, YOU JUST MAKE HASTE HOME, AND PEEL ME A LOT OF SHRIMPS FOR MY LUNCH!"] [Illustration: _A MERMAID._] [Illustration: _PUTTING PRINCIPLE INTO PRACTICE._ BLOOD WILL CARRY ANYTHING--AT LEAST SO MISS FEATHERWEIGHT THINKS!] [Illustration: _CRICKET--THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE._ "GOOD MATCH, OLD FELLOW?" "OH YES, AWFULLY JOLLY!" "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "I 'AD A HOVER OF JACKSON; THE FIRST BALL 'IT ME ON THE 'AND; THE SECOND 'AD ME ON THE KNEE; THE THIRD WAS IN MY EYE; AND THE FOURTH BOWLED ME OUT." (_Jolly game._)] [Illustration: _PICKED UP FROM THE BEACH._ _Old Salt (who has got sixpence a-piece out of the children)._ "THERE, MY DEARS, YOU'VE GOT A KITTEN FOR A SHILLUN' AS HAD OUGHT TO 'A BIN SEVIN-AND-SIXPENCE AT LEAST; AND IF YOU'LL MEET ME HERE TO-MORRER AT THE SAME TIME, YOU SHALL HAVE SUCH A BOAT FOR A HALF-A-CROWN AS YOU COULDN'T GET AT A SHOP FOR FIVE BOB!"] [Illustration: _AQUATICS--WHEN THE BEES ARE SWARMING._] [Illustration: _PERSUASIVE._ _Conductor._ "FULL INSIDE, MUM!--ROOM ON THE ROOF, MUM!--ONLY LIKE GOING UP-STAIRS, MUM!" (_But the Old Lady isn't partial to going up-stairs._)] [Illustration: _DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE._ OFFICIOUS URCHIN RUSHES TO OPEN CARRIAGE-DOOR. JOHN AND THOMAS, TO USE THEIR OWN PHRASE, ARE "COMPLETELY NONPLUSHED!"] [Illustration: _HELPING HIM ON._ _Cruel Fair One (to silent Partner)._ "PRAY! HAVE YOU NO CONVERSATION?"] [Illustration: _A VICTIM TO OVER-EXERTION._ _Standing-up Swell._ "MORNING, CHARLEY! DOING A BIT O' PARK, EH?" _Swell (reclining)._ "YAAS.--YOU SEE I CAN'T DO WITHOUT MY WEGLAR EXERCISE."] [Illustration: _BENEVOLENCE._ MR. PUNCH HAVING HEARD OF THE EXCELLENT QUALITIES OF THE EXMOOR PONIES, PROCURES A FEW FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS!] [Illustration: _UNWELCOME PLEASANTRY._ _Frederick (who, we are sorry to say, is rather fond of chaffing his Brother-in-Law)._ "OH! LOOK HERE, ROBERT, WILL YOU HAVE THIS WITH YOU IN THE CARRIAGE, OR SHALL I PUT IT INTO THE VAN?"] [Illustration: _THE YEOMANRY SERVICE._ MR. WOBBLES, WISHING TO ACCUSTOM HIS HORSE TO THE REPORT OF FIRE-ARMS, MAKES HIS LAD FIRE A GUN AT THE CORNER OF THE LANE. AT FIRST THE EXPERIMENT IS NOT SATISFACTORY.] [Illustration: _THE NICE LITTLE DINNER._ _Tommy (who is standing a feed to Harry)._ "OH, HANG IT, YOU KNOW, FOURTEEN BOB FOR A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE! THAT'S COMING IT RATHER STRONG, AIN'T IT?" _Waiter (with perfect composure)._ "WE HAVE SOME _CHEAP_ WINE, SIR, AT HALF-A-GUINEA."] [Illustration: _A LITTLE FARCE AT A RAILWAY-STATION._ _Lady._ "I WANT ONE TICKET--FIRST!" _Clerk._ "SINGLE?" _Lady._ "SINGLE! WHAT DOES IT MATTER TO YOU, SIR, WHETHER I'M SINGLE OR NOT? IMPERTINENCE!" (_Clerk explains that he meant Single or Return, not t'other thing._)] [Illustration: _A LUCID EXPLANATION._ "WHAT CAN BE THE MATTER WITH THE 'MAGIC,' CHARLES?" "WHY, YOU SEE, DEAR, TOM PUT HIS HELM DOWN RATHER TOO QUICK, AND SHE MISSED STAYS AND WENT ASHORE, AND THEY ARE NOW HAULING THE JIB A-WEATHER TO LET HER FILL AND PAY OFF."] [Illustration: _THE SOCIAL TREADMILL.--THE WEDDING BREAKFAST._] [Illustration: _MASTER AND MAN.--A PRETTY STATE OF THINGS._ _Master (to Swell Groom)._ "OH, SNAFFLES, I WISH TO SHOW THE NEW HORSE TO THIS GENTLEMAN--AND WE SHALL RIDE IN THE AFTERNOON." _Swell Groom._ "VERY SORRY, SIR, BUT THE OSSES ARE LOCKED UP FOR THE PRESENT, SIR! AND WHAT OSSES WAS YOU GOING TO RIDE THIS AFTERNOON? I SHOULDN'T LIKE TO 'AVE _MINE_ OUT IN THE DAMP!"] [Illustration: _BOARD AND LODGING._ _Landlady._ "YES, SIR, THE BOARD WERE CERTINGLY TO BE A GUINEA A WEEK, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW AS YOU WAS A-GOING TO BATHE IN THE SEA BEFORE BREAKFAST, AND TAKE BOTTLES OF TONIC DURING THE DAY!"] [Illustration: _THE COLLAR MANIA._ NEAT AND APPROPRIATE ORNAMENT FOR A GENT'S ALL-ROUNDER.] [Illustration: _THE LINGUIST._ _Archy._ "I SAY, JESSIE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND FRENCH?" _Jessie._ "A LITTLE--DO YOU?" _Archy._ "OH, YES--I UNDERSTAND IT VERY WELL; BECAUSE, WHEN PA AND MA TALK FRENCH, I KNOW I'M GOING TO HAVE A POWDER!"] [Illustration: _THE EXHAUSTED STUDENT._ _Fond Parent._ "BLESS HIS HEART--ALWAYS STUDYING! READ HIMSELF ASLEEP--GEOGRAPHY NOW, OR SOMETHING OF THAT SORT, I'LL BE BOUND?" (_No! It's the Cookery Book._)] [Illustration: _MISTAKING A TITLE._ _Constance (literary)._ "HAVE YOU READ THIS ACCOUNT OF 'THE MILL ON THE FLOSS,' DEAR?" _Edith (literal)._ "NO, INDEED, I HAVE NOT; AND I WONDER THAT YOU CAN FIND ANYTHING TO INTEREST YOU IN THE DESCRIPTION OF A DISGUSTING PRIZE-FIGHT!"] [Illustration: _VAULTING AMBITION._ "NOW THEN, CHARITY--HIGHER! YOU DON'T CALL THAT A BACK!"] [Illustration: _PRIVATE THEATRICALS.--THE MOUSTACHES._ _Lady B. (a wicked Marquis)._ "BUT HAVE YOU MADE ME FIERCE ENOUGH, CHARLES?" _Charles._ "FIERCE!--FEROCIOUS!"] [Illustration: _EXPRESS._ _Old Gent._ "THIS OSCILLATION IS VERY UNUSUAL, SIR, ISN'T IT? WE SEEM TO BE GOING A TREMENDOUS PACE!" _Swell._ "AW--YA--AS! THEY'RE MAKING UP FOR LOST TIME. I'VE JUST TIMED 'EM, AND WE'VE DONE THE LAST NINE MILES IN SIX MINUTES AND A HALF. HAVE A SMASH, PRESENTLY, AW--THINK!"] [Illustration: _A SOU'-WESTER IN A SEA-SIDE LODGING-HOUSE._] [Illustration: _THE SPOON-SHAPED BONNET._] [Illustration: _A SHOCKING YOUNG LADY, INDEED!_ _Emily (betrothed to Charles)._ "OH, CHARLES, ISN'T IT FUN? I'VE BEATEN ARTHUR AND JULIA, AND I'VE BROKE AUNT SALLY'S NOSE SEVEN TIMES!"] [Illustration: _USEFUL APPLIANCES._ "WIGGLES AND SPROTT PREFER BATHING FROM THE BEACH TO HAVING A STUFFY MACHINE. THEY ARE MUCH PLEASED WITH THE DELICATE LITTLE ATTENTION INDICATED ABOVE!"] [Illustration: _ON THE WAY TO PARADE._ _Brown (loq.)._ "CALL THIS PLAYING AT SOLDIERS, INDEED! I'D MUCH RATHER BE BEFORE 'A HOT FIRE,' I KNOW!" (_Nevertheless, Brown sticks to his duty like a man._)] [Illustration: _JOHN TOMKINS AND 'ARRY BLOATER._ _'Arry (in the Boots of the Period)._ "YES, THEY'RE DOOCED COMFORTABLE, AND THEY GIVE ONE A MILITARY AND RATHER SPORTING APPEARANCE, I FANCY."] [Illustration: _A DIP IN FRENCH WATERS._ _Jones (to Old Woman)._ "COM, SAR--WHAT DO YOU MEAN?--AM I TO BE LED DOWN LIKE THAT FOR A QUARTER OF A MILE?"] [Illustration: _SCENE--A CERTAIN GAY WATERING-PLACE._ _First Irresistible (on hack)._ "ULLO, 'ARRY! WHY, WHAT HAS BROUGHT YOU HERE?" _Second Ditto._ "WHY, YER SEE, BILL, I'M PRECIOUS SICK OF WORKING FOR MY LIVING, SO I'VE COME HERE TO PICK UP AN _'AIRESS_!"] [Illustration: _THE LATEST IMPROVEMENT_ _Jane._ "LAWK, JEMIMA! DON'T THEY LOOK BEWTIFLE NOW THEY'VE GOT THEIR LONG COATS!"] [Illustration: _FIRST OF SEPTEMBER._ MR. BRIGGS GOES OUT SHOOTING WITH A BRACE OF DOGS HE HAS BROKEN-IN HIMSELF.] [Illustration: _A PROBABILITY--"HOLD YOUR ZEBRA, SIR?"_] [Illustration: _A FRIENDLY OFFER._ _Confounded good-looking Hibernian Friend (to Jones)._ "ADIEU, ME BOY! IS THERE ANYTHING I'LL DO FOR-R-R YE WHILE YE'RE AWAY? WILL I RIDE OUT, OR WALK WITH MISS PLUMLEY FOR-R-R YE, NOW! ONLY SPAKE THE WOR-R-RD!"] [Illustration: _A MATTER OF OPINION._ _Diana._ "YES, DEAR--I MUST SAY THAT I THINK A GIRL NEVER LOOKS SO WELL AS SHE DOES IN HER RIDING HABIT!"] [Illustration: _A PICTURE FOR THE INTEMPERATE._ _Photographer._ "NOW, SIR, STEP IN AND HAVE YOUR LIKENESS TAKEN, IT MIGHT BE USEFUL TO YOUR FAMILY!"] [Illustration: _THE HILL AT EPSOM._ _Irritated Swell (walking away)._ "I TELL YOU I DON'T WANT TO BE BRUSHED!" _Public Coat-Brusher._ "OH, JUST TO MAKE YOU A LITTLE TIDY, MY LORD!" _Swell._ "I SHAN'T PAY YOU!" _Coat-Brusher (still brushing)._ "THAT AIN'T O' NO CONSEQUENCE, MY LORD; BUT I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU LOOK RESPECTABLE!"] [Illustration: _POLITENESS_ _Bill._ "WELL, JIM! HOW BE YOU TO-DAY?" _Jim._ "WHAT ODDS IS THAT TO YOU?--YOU BEAN'T MY MEDICAL ATTENDANT!"] [Illustration: _A SKETCH NEAR LEICESTER SQUARE._] [Illustration: _NO DOUBT OF IT._ _Invalid (in carriage)._ "NOW, THESE POSTILIONS NEVER SEEM TO BE UNWELL! UPON MY WORD, I VERILY BELIEVE IF I WERE TO CHANGE PLACES WITH THAT LITTLE CHAP, I SHOULD BE EVER SO MUCH BETTER!"] [Illustration: _THE GALE._ "DON'T BE ALARMED, DARLINGS--THE CAPTAIN HAS GOT QUITE ENOUGH TO DO TO LOOK AFTER HIMSELF."--_Punch._] [Illustration: _SPREAD OF THE VOLUNTEER MOVEMENT.--SCENE, THE SCHOOLROOM._ _Young Larkins._ "OH, HERE'S MAMMA! NOW, MA, IF YOU'LL FALL IN BY G'INA, I'LL PUT YOU THROUGH YOUR FACINGS. 'TEN-TION!"] [Illustration: _THE PORTRAIT.--FINISHING TOUCH TO THE DRESS._ _Painter._ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, BUT I'M AFRAID YOU ARE SITTING ON MY PALETTE!"] [Illustration: _ON THE SANDS._ CAUTION TO YOUNG LADIES WHO RIDE IN CRINOLINE ON DONKEYS.] [Illustration: _VALUABLE ADDITION TO THE AQUARIUM._ TOM (WHO HAS HAD A VERY SUCCESSFUL DAY) PRESENTS HIS SISTERS WITH A FINE SPECIMEN OF THE CUTTLE-FISH (_Octopus Vulgaris_).] [Illustration: _PRUDENTIAL ASSURANCE._ _Whipper._ "DOOCED NICE PLACE, THIS--ONLY ONE CAN'T SPEAK TO A GAL WITHOUT IT'S BEING REPORTED YOU'RE ENGAGED TO HER." _Snapper._ "HAH! I TOOK THE PRECAUTION TO GIVE OUT WHEN I FIRST CAME THAT I WASN'T A MARRYIN' MAN!"] [Illustration: _PLEASANT INTELLIGENCE._ _Boy._ "AH, YOU AND MRS. DRONE ARE COMING TO SEE US NEXT WEEK IN THE COUNTRY." _Mr. Drone._ "ARE WE?--WE HAVE HEARD NOTHING OF IT." _Boy._ "OH, YES--BECAUSE I HEARD PAPA SAY TO MAMMA, THAT THEY HAD SOME TIRESOME PEOPLE COMING, AND THEY MIGHT AS WELL ASK ALL THE BORES AT ONCE."] [Illustration: _WELL(?) BROUGHT UP._ _First Juvenile._ "MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF DANCING WITH YOU, MISS ALICE?" _Second Juvenile._ "A, NO--THANKS, I NEVER DANCE WITH YOUNGER SONS!"] [Illustration: _REAL ENJOYMENT._ _Charley (who is wet through for the ninth time)._ "OH, MA! WE'VE BEEN _SO_ JOLLY! WE'VE BEEN FILLING ONE ANOTHER'S HAIR WITH SAND AND MAKING BOATS OF OUR BOOTS, AND HAVING SUCH FUN!"] [Illustration: _A MILITIA MAN._] [Illustration: _REPOSE._ YES! BUT WE ARE SURE THAT IF ELLEN KNEW WHAT A FIGURE FREDERICK MADE OF HER BY SPRAWLING ON THE CLIFF JUST BEHIND HER, SHE WOULDN'T BE SO QUIET.] [Illustration: _TRULY DELIGHTFUL!_ GALLOPING DOWN THE SIDE OF A FIELD COVERED WITH MOLE-HILLS, ON A WEAK-NECKED HORSE, WITH A SNAFFLE BRIDLE, ONE FOOT OUT OF YOUR STIRRUP, AND A BIT OF MUD IN YOUR EYE!] [Illustration: _SKETCH FROM A STUDY WINDOW._] [Illustration: _NOVEL SUGGESTION._ THE CRINOLINE STORM SIGNAL; A WARNING TO YOUNG LADIES AT THE SEA-SIDE.] [Illustration: _A MEDIUM._ _Nursery-Maid (to horse, with great affection)._ "OH, YOU DARLING! I AM SO FOND OF YOU!"] [Illustration: _OUR INDOLENT YOUNG MAN._ _"Gar and Starter, Richmond. July 8.--Thermometer ever so much in the shade._ DEAR P., IN REPLY TO YOUR HEARTLESS LETTER, ON AFFAIRS OF A BUSINESS CHARACTER, I BEG TO INFORM YOU THAT I AM HERE, AND WITH NO INTENTION OF INJURING MY PRECIOUS HEALTH BY ANY EXERTION, BODILY OR MENTAL. MAKE WHAT USE YOU PLEASE OF THIS INFORMATION, AND ACCEPT THE ASSURANCE OF MY MOST DISTINGUISHED REGARD AND ESTEEM. SIGNED, * * * * *."] [Illustration: _SCENE AT SANDBATH._ THE FEMALE BLONDIN OUTDONE! GRAND MORNING PERFORMANCE ON THE NARROW PLANK BY THE DARLING * * *.] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. I. MR. BRIGGS, FEELING THAT HIS HEART IS IN THE HIGHLANDS, A-CHASING THE DEER, STARTS FOR THE NORTH.] [Illustration: _GOING NORTH._ "THIS CARRIAGE IS ENGAGED!"] [Illustration: _A TIT-BIT._ _Omnibus Driver (in the distance)._ "HOLLOA, JOE, NOW YOU'VE GOT YOUR DUCK, I'LL SEND YOU THE PEAS!"] [Illustration: _WE SHOULD THINK IT DID._ _Clara._ "MAMMA, DEAR! I WISH YOU WOULD SPEAK TO GEORGE! HE WILL KEEP SPINNING FREDDY'S NASTY GREAT HUMMING-TOP IN MY AQUARIUM, AND IT DOES SO FRIGHTEN THE MINNOWS!"] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. II. MR. BRIGGS, PREVIOUS TO GOING THROUGH HIS COURSE OF DEER-STALKING, ASSISTS THE FORESTER IN GETTING A HART OR TWO FOR THE HOUSE. DONALD IS REQUESTING OUR FRIEND TO HOLD THE ANIMAL DOWN BY THE HORNS. (_N.B. The said animal is as strong as a bull, and uses his legs like a race horse._)] [Illustration: No. III. MR. BRIGGS AND HIS FRIENDS HAVE A QUIET CHAT ABOUT DEERSTALKING GENERALLY, HE LISTENS WITH MUCH INTEREST TO SOME PLEASING ANECDOTES ABOUT THE LITTLE INCIDENTS FREQUENTLY MET WITH--SUCH AS BALLS GOING THROUGH CAPS--TOES BEING SHOT OFF!--OCCASIONALLY BEING GORED BY THE ANTLERS OF INFURIATE STAGS, &c., &c., &c.] [Illustration: _SERVING HIM OUT._ _Mrs. T. (to T.)_ "FEEL A LITTLE MORE COMFORTABLE, DEAR? CAN I GET ANYTHING ELSE FOR YOU? WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR CIGAR-CASE NOW? (_Aside._) I'LL TEACH HIM TO GO OUT TO GREENWICH AND RICHMOND WITHOUT ME, AND SIT UP HALF THE NIGHT AT HIS CLUB!"] [Illustration: _POSING A CUSTOMER._ _Immense Swell._ "HAW! LOOK HEAW! IF I--HAW--TOOK A QUANTITY OF THESE THINGS, WOULD THEY--HAW--BE CHEAPAW?" _Hosier._ "WELL, SIR, THAT WOULD DEPEND! PRAY ARE YOU IN THE TRADE?" (_Feelings of Swell may be imagined._)] MR. BRIGG'S ADVENTURE IN THE HIGHLANDS [Illustration: No. IV. TO-DAY HE GOES OUT FOR A STALK, AND DONALD SHOWS MR. BRIGGS THE WAY.] [Illustration: No. V. WITH EXTRAORDINARY PERSEVERANCE THEY COME WITHIN SHOT OF "THE FINEST HART." MR. B. IS OUT OF BREATH, AFRAID OF SLIPPING, AND WANTS TO BLOW HIS NOSE (QUITE OUT OF THE QUESTION). OTHERWISE HE IS TOLERABLY COMFORTABLE.] [Illustration: _PLEASURES OF VEGETARIANISM._ "OH, GRACIOUS, MISS LEGUME! I FEAR I HAVE TASTED ANIMAL FOOD. I HAVE EATEN A WHOLE EARWIG IN MY SALAD!"] [Illustration: _A LESSON IN FRENCH._ "NOW THEN, JACK! YOU TAKE THE PRONUNCIATION FROM ME, AND WHEN HE COMES, SING OUT 'VEEV LUMPHOOROAR!'"] [Illustration: _DRIED UP!_ _Boy (attending)._ "NO, SIR! NOR THERE AIN'T BIN NONE NOT FOR EVER SO LONG!" _Owing to the exceedingly dry weather, Mr. Hackle finds that the stream he has taken for fishing is not in so good a state as he could wish._] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. VI. AFTER AIMING FOR A QUARTER OF AN HOUR, MR. B. FIRES BOTH HIS BARRELS--AND--MISSES!!!! TABLEAU--THE FORESTER'S ANGUISH.] [Illustration: No. VII. THE ROYAL HART MR. BRIGGS DID _NOT_ HIT.] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL._ _Railway Guard (as it is getting dark)._ "WOULD YOU LIKE A LIGHT IN THIS CARRIAGE, SIR?" _Swell (showing a Regalia in full blaze)._ "NO, THANKS! I HAVE ONE!" (_Exit Guard overpowered._)] [Illustration: _DEBATE ON THE NEW MINISTRY._ _Smike._ "I SAY, BILL, HOW ABOUT THE DERBY THIS YEAR?" _Bill._ "OH, NOTHIN' BUT A OAX! NOTHIN' BUT A OAX! BARRIN' THE PUN!"] [Illustration: _THE SENSATION BALL._ THE LATEST PLEASANTRY IN THE PUBLIC STREETS.] [Illustration: _THE HAYMARKET AND THEREABOUT._] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. VIII. AFTER A GOOD DEAL OF CLIMBING, OUR FRIEND GETS TO THE TOP OF BEN SOMETHING-OR-OTHER, AND THE FORESTER LOOKS OUT TO SEE IF THERE ARE ANY DEER ON THE HILLS. YES! SEVERAL HINDS, AND PERHAPS THE FINEST HART THAT EVER WAS SEEN.] [Illustration: No. IX. TO GET AT HIM, THEY ARE OBLIGED TO GO A LONG WAY ROUND, BEFORE THEY GET DOWN, THE SHOWER PECULIAR TO THE COUNTRY OVERTAKES THEM, SO THEY "SHELTER A-WEE."] [Illustration: _THE HUMOUR OF THE STREETS._ THAT ESTIMABLE MAN, MR. PUNCH, GOES FOR A RIDE ON HIS COB, AND CANNOT AGREE WITH A CERTAIN WORTHY MAGISTRATE OR "BEAK" THAT STREET-TUMBLING IS AT ALL A CLEVER OR DESIRABLE PERFORMANCE:--] [Illustration: --AND IT IS NOT A PLEASANT THING, WHEN GOING OUT TO DINNER, TO HAVE A SUMMERSAULT TURNED ON TO YOUR STOM----WE MEAN WAISTCOAT.] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. X. THE DEER ARE DRIVEN FOR MR. BRIGGS. HE HAS AN EXCELLENT PLACE, BUT WHAT WITH WAITING BY HIMSELF SO LONG, THE MURMUR OF THE STREAM, THE BEAUTY OF THE SCENE, AND THE NOVELTY OF THE SITUATION, HE FALLS ASLEEP, AND WHILE HE TAKES HIS FORTY WINKS, THE DEER PASS!] [Illustration: _TOWARDS THE CLOSE OF THE SEASON._ _Gentleman._ "WELL, TOM, THERE'S NO SCENT AGAIN!" _Huntsman (who looks upon Spring time with profound melancholy)._ "SCENT, SIR! NO, SIR! NOR I DON'T SEE HOW THERE CAN BE ANY SCENT NOW THEM STINKING VIOLETS IS ALL IN BLOOM."] [Illustration: _A SECULAR PURSUIT._ _Donald Punch (a Keeper.)_ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, MY LORD BISHOP, BUT MAY I JUST TROUBLE YE TO SHOW ME YOUR CERTIFICATE?"] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. XI. AS THE WIND IS FAVOURABLE, THE DEER ARE DRIVEN AGAIN.] [Illustration: No. XII. MR. BRIGGS IS SUDDENLY FACE TO FACE WITH THE MONARCH OF THE GLEN! HE IS SO ASTONISHED THAT HE OMITS TO FIRE HIS RIFLE.] [Illustration: _IN BARRACKS._ _Field Officer of the Day._ "HULLO! WHY DON'T THE GUARD TURN OUT?" _Solitary Private._ "PLEASE, SIR, THEY'RE GONE TO TARGET PRACTICE!" _Field Officer of the Day._ "AND WHO THE DEUCE ARE YOU?" _Solitary Private._ "PLEASE, SIR, I'M THE PRISONER, SIR!" (_Related to us as a fact, but which, as a distinguished Field Officer ourselves, we don't indorse._)] [Illustration: _A BOUNCER._ _Mamma (who won't appear old if she can help it)._ "YES, DEAR! ARABELLA DOES GROW, CERTAINLY, BUT BLESS YOU, MY DEAR, SHE'S A MERE CHILD--A MERE CHILD!"] [Illustration: _CONSOLATION._ _Elegant Party._ "THERE'S ONE COMFORT NOW-A-DAYS; A GOOD-LOOKING YOUNG FELLER, WITH A HELEGANT FIGGER CAN ALWAYS BE A MODEL TO A PHOTOGRAPHER!"] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. XIII. MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY'S STALKING, AND HIS RIFLE HAVING GONE OFF SOONER THAN HE EXPECTED, HE KILLS A STAG! AS IT IS HIS FIRST, HE IS MADE FREE OF THE FOREST BY THE PROCESS CUSTOMARY ON THE HILLS!] [Illustration: No. XIV. AND RETURNS HOME IN TRIUMPH. HE IS A LITTLE KNOCKED UP, BUT AFTER A NAP, WILL, NO DOUBT, GO THROUGH THE BROAD-SWORD DANCE IN THE EVENING AS USUAL.] [Illustration: _LATE FROM THE NURSERY._ _Governess._ "NOW, FRANK, YOU MUST PUT YOUR DRUM DOWN, IF YOU ARE GOING TO SAY YOUR PRAYERS." _Frank._ "OH, DO LET ME WEAR IT, PLEASE; _I'LL PROMISE NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT_."] [Illustration: _A FINE POLISH._] [Illustration: _CONSOLING FOR CONSOLS._ _Young Hardman._ "GOING TO DINGLEY CROSS ROADS?" _Consols._ "YES!" _Y. H._ "AH, THEN, I SUPPOSE YOU'VE SENT YOUR HORSE ON!" (CONSOLS _never rides upon less than 250 guineas, and thinks himself as near perfection as possible._)] MR. BRIGGS'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS. [Illustration: No. XV. _PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING._ ON HIS WAY TO THAT TURNIP-FIELD, OUR DEAR OLD BRIGGS PASSES THROUGH THE PARK IN WHICH HIS FRIEND'S FAVOURITE BISONS ARE KEPT, HE SAYS TO GEORDIE THE KEEPER: "I TRUST, MY GOOD FELLOW, THIS IS NOT THE SEASON YOU SPOKE OF IN WHICH THESE CREATURES--YOU KNOW--EH--WHAT--A--A--ARE _DANGEROUS_?"] [Illustration: _SPORTING INTELLIGENCE._ OUR EXCELLENT FRIEND, MR. BRIGGS, ALWAYS SHOOTS NOW IN KNICKERBOCKERS, AND DECLARES THEY ARE THE MOST COMFORTABLE THINGS POSSIBLE; AND SO THEY ARE.] [Illustration: _ENGLISH DARLINGS REFLECTED IN A FRENCH MIRROR!_ (DEDICATED TO THOSE POLITE AND PROFOUND OBSERVERS OF BRITISH MANNERS AND CUSTOMS--THE PARISIAN ARTISTS!)] [Illustration: _ENGLISH SOLDIERS ACCORDING TO FRENCH NOTIONS._ THE FRENCH CARICATURISTS, WITH THEIR USUAL ACCURATE KNOWLEDGE OF BRITISH MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, ARE FOND OF REPRESENTING OUR SOLDIERS AS CONTINUALLY PLAYING AT BILLIARDS.--WELL! PERHAPS IT WILL BE FOUND THAT THEY _DO_ PLAY THEIR _CANNONS_ REMARKABLY WELL!] [Footnote A: British Officers of Distinction] [Footnote B: Daughters of Albion! (The wonderful fidelity of this representation will be immediately acknowledged.)] [Footnote C: Young Guardsmen! (Painful, perhaps, but too true!)] [Footnote D: The _Boule Dogue_. (Asleep, of course.)] [Illustration: _IRRESISTIBLE._ _Lady._ "WHAT! TWO SHILLINGS! AND EIGHTEENPENCE FOR WAITING THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR?--NONSENSE, MAN! IT WAS ONLY TEN MINUTES BY MY WATCH!" _Cabman (insinuatingly)._ "WASN'T IT, MISS? WELL, THEN, I S'POSE IT WAS A MISSIN' O' YOUR PRETTY FACE AS MADE IT SEEM THREE KERVARTERS OF AN HOUR!" (_Fare pays, and thinks the Cabman an extremely nice person._)] [Illustration: _THE IDLE SERVANT._ _Mistress._ "YOU ARE AN EXCESSIVELY WICKED BOY, SIR! YOU HAVE BEEN A VERY LONG TIME BRINGING ME THIS LETTER--AND I MUST INSIST UPON KNOWING IN WHAT MANNER YOU HAVE BEEN IDLING AWAY YOUR TIME--SPEAK, SIR!" _Domestic._ "BOO-HOO-'M! IF YOU PLEASE, 'M! _ME AND ANOTHER BUTLER_ WAS A-LOOKING AT PUNCH. BOO-HOO!!"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE ROWLANDS' MACASSAR WANTED SOMEWHERE._ A HINT TO THE HORSE GUARDS.] [Illustration: _FRIVOLITY_]. [Illustration: _WELL OVER! ANYHOW!_] [Illustration: _THE RIDING-HAT QUESTION._ _Lucy._ "NOW TELL ME, MARY, WHICH IS THE BEST?" _Mary (who is rather horsey)._ "WELL, DEAR, FOR TEA IN THE ARBOUR, AND THAT SORT OF THING, PERHAPS THE LITTLE ROUND ONE; BUT IF YOU WANT TO LOOK LIKE GOING ACROSS COUNTRY, THE CHIMNEY-POT ALL TO NOTHING!"] [Illustration: _NOT A BAD JUDGE._ _Alimentive Boy._ "MY EYE, TOMMY, WOULDN'T I LIKE TO BOARD IN THAT 'OUSE JUST!"] [Illustration: _OH, HOW JOLLY!_] [Illustration: _THE BORES OF THE BEACH._ SO! AS IT'S A FINE DAY, YOU'LL SIT ON THE BEACH AND READ THE PAPER COMFORTABLY, WILL YOU? VERY GOOD! THEN WE RECOMMEND YOU TO GET WHAT GUINEA-PIGS, BRANDY-BALLS, BOATS, AND CHILDREN'S SOCKS, TO SAY NOTHING OF SHELL-WORK BOXES, LACE COLLARS, AND THE LIKE, YOU MAY WANT, BEFORE YOU SETTLE DOWN.] [Illustration: _IMMENSE TREAT FOR THE PARTY CONCERNED._ _Master Jack._ "NOW, GRANNY, YOU MAY COME AND HAVE SOME JUMPS OVER OUR DAISY CHAIN."] [Illustration: _GOOD BLACKING._] [Illustration: _OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES._ _Diana._ "WELL, ALFRED, I SUPPOSE YOU'VE MADE UP YOUR MIND TO JOIN A RIFLE CORPS--EH?" _Alfred._ "WHY, NO. YOU SEE, I'M MORE IN THE RIDING WAY. NOW, IF THEY WILL GET UP SOME VOLUNTEER CAVALRY--WHY, I'LL FIND A MAN AND A HORSE!"] [Illustration: _CHAFF._ _Bus Conductor (slamming the door)._ "FULL INSIDE!" _Facetious Driver._ "FULL INSIDE! WELL--SO YER OUGHT TO BE; YER HAD A SIRLOIN OF BREAD AND CHEESE FOR YER TEA!"] [Illustration: _THE INVALID._ _Master._ "WELL, SAUNDERS, I SEE YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO DO MUCH WITH THE OLD SOW, AFTER ALL?" _Saunders._ "WHY, YOU SEE MAISTER RICHARD, SHE WARENT TAKEN IN TIME, THE POWER THING, SHE WARENT--SHE'S STRUV HARD TO GET ROUND, BUT THE WEATHER'S AGIN HER, YE SEE. TO-DAY IT SHONE A BIT, AND I THOUGHT IT'D DO HER GOOD TO GET OUT. SO IN THE WARM OF THE ARTERNOON I PUT HER IN THE BARROW, AND TOOK HER FOR A LITTLE RIDE IN THE SUN!"] [Illustration: _CURIOUS EFFECT OF RELAXING AIR._ _Traveller in the Isle of Wight._ "BLESS MY HEART! THERE'S THE BELL RINGING ON THE PIER. HOLLO! WHY, WHERE'S THE CARPET BAG I LEFT IN THE PASSAGE?" _Hotel Keeper (faintly)._ "OH, HOW SHOULD I KNOW? DON'T ASK ME, I'M ONLY THE LANDLORD. YOU HAD BETTER TRY IF YOU CAN'T WAKE ONE OF THE WAITERS."] [Illustration: _FLUNKEIANA._ _French Maid._ "YOU LIKE A--ZE--SEA-SIDE, M'SIEUR JEAN THOMAS?" _John Thomas._ "_PAR BOKHOO_, MAMZELLE--_PAR BOOKHOO_. I'VE--AW--BIN SO ACCUSTOMED TO--AW--GAIETY IN TOWN, THAT I'M--AW--A'MOST KILLED WITH _ARNWEE_ DOWN HERE."] [Illustration: _PLUCK!_ _Master Cock-Robin._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, UNCLE CHARLES--IF YOU ARE AT ALL NERVOUS ABOUT THE GAROTTERS--I'LL WALK HOME WITH YOU!"] [Illustration: _A LOVING CUP._] [Illustration: _SKETCH ON THE SEA-COAST DURING THE GALE._ _Lord D-ndre-ry (to his Bwother)._ "A-A-A, I THAY THAM! WATHER A DITHPLAY OF FIGGER--EH?"] [Illustration: _A SLOW GAME._ _Chorus of Offended Maidens._ "WELL! IF CLARA AND CAPTAIN DE HOLSTER ARE GOING ON IN THAT RIDICULOUS MANNER, WE MAY AS WELL LEAVE OFF PLAYING."] [Illustration: _SCENE--A MAN'S ROOMS IN THE TEMPLE._ (STEADY MAN SMOKES A SHORT PIPE, AND JAWS AT THE YOUNG SWELL LOUNGING IN EASY CHAIR.) _Steady Man._ "A MAN MUST _WORK_ NOW-A-DAYS, OR HE GETS LEFT BEHIND. THE ONLY POSITION WORTH HAVING IS WHAT YOU MAKE FOR YOURSELF," &c., &c. _Youthful Swell._ "OH, YES, I QUITE AGWEE WITH YOU ABOUT WORK. I DON'T MIND WORK, YOU KNOW, IN A GENEWAL WAY--BUT I OBJECT TO WHAT I CALL 'WORK OF SUPERWEWOGATION!'" _Steady Man._ "AND PRAY WHAT DO YOU UNDERSTAND BY THAT?" _Youthful Swell._ "WHY--I MEAN I DON'T CARE TO DO ANYTHING I CAN GET DONE FOR ME!"] [Illustration: _CROQUET._] [Illustration: _THE LATEST STYLE._] [Illustration: _THE LAST NEW THING IN CLOAKS._ _Pretty Milliner (trying it on)._ "DO YOU THINK THIS WOULD SUIT THE LADY, SIR?" (_Little Tompkins begins to like shopping rather._)] [Illustration: _FASHIONS IN HAIR._ _Lady Swell._ "OH, YES, YOU KNOW! QUITE NEW! THE OLD NETS AND BEAVERS' TAILS GETTING AWFULLY COMMON, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _A RACE FOR A FARE._ EXCITEMENT OF THE HANSOM CABBIES ON THE APPEARANCE OF A SWELL OUT OF THE SEASON.] [Illustration: _TURNING THE TABLES; OR, A LITTLE SAUCE FOR THE GANDER._ _Henrietta (who is joking, of course)._ "I'VE BEEN THINKING, DEAR CHARLES, THAT AS YOU REQUIRE CHANGE, IT WOULD BE SO NICE FOR YOU TO GO DOWN WITH THE CHILDREN TO SOME QUIET PLACE AT THE SEA-SIDE, WHILE I AND MRS. FRED SPANKER WENT TO BADEN-BADEN FOR A FEW WEEKS--EH--?----" [_This last being just what the wretch_ CHARLES _has been proposing to himself and_ FRED SPANKER _for the last month_.] [Illustration: _POOR FELLOW!_ _Frank_. "I KNOW THIS--I CAN'T STAND MANY MORE EVENING PARTIES, AND IF I DON'T GET INTO THE COUNTRY AND HAVE A FEW DAYS' HUNTING, I SHALL KNOCK UP!"] [Illustration: "_NOW I'M PAPA._"] [Illustration: _PUTTING IT BLANDLY._ _Jones (living in the plebeian locality of St. John's Wood)_. "I AM ALSO EXTREMELY PARTICULAR ABOUT MY WINDOWS--IF YOU ENTER MY SERVICE, I SHALL EXPECT YOU TO CLEAN THEM VERY CAREFULLY." _John Thomas (from Belgravia)._ "OH, OF COURSE, SIR! YOU CAN HAVE YOUR WINDOWS CLEANED IF YOU LIKE--BUT IN _BELGRAVIA_--WE PREFERS THEM DIRTY--IT'S CONSIDERED MORE _ARISTOCRATIC_!"] [Illustration: _THE UNEXPECTED ALWAYS HAPPENS._ THIS IS JONES, WHO THOUGHT TO SLIP DOWN BY THE RAIL EARLY IN THE MORNING, AND HAVE A GALLOP WITH THE FOX-HOUNDS. ON LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW, HE FINDS IT IS A CLEAR FROSTY MORNING. HE SEES A SMALL BOY SLIDING--ACTUALLY SLIDING--ON THE PAVEMENT OPPOSITE!! AND--DOESN'T HE HATE THAT BOY--AND DOESN'T HE SAY, IT IS A BEASTLY CLIMATE!!] [Illustration: _ON A PARISIAN BOULEVARD._ PAINFUL AND HUMILIATING CONTRAST, TO THE DISADVANTAGE OF OUR POOR LITTLE ENGLISH TRAVELLER, OF COURSE.] [Illustration: _ON THE RACE COURSE._ THE RESPECTABLE CAPITALIST WHO WILL BET A THOUSAND TO ONE AGAINST EVERYTHING, AND PAY IF HE LOSES--OF COURSE!] [Illustration: _A NICE GAME FOR TWO OR MORE._. "----FIXING HER EYES ON HIS, AND PLACING HER PRETTY LITTLE FOOT ON THE BALL, SHE SAID, 'NOW, THEN, I AM GOING TO CROQUET YOU!' AND CROQUET'D HE WAS COMPLETELY." (_From Rose to Emily_).] [Illustration: _MUSCULAR EDUCATION--THE PRIVATE TUTOR._. _Domestic._ "PROFESSOR MAULEY, MA'AM!"] [Illustration: _FOND DELUSION._ _First Tourist (going North)._ "HULLO, TOMPK----" _Second Ditto (ditto, ditto)._ "HSH--SH! CONFOUND IT, YOU'LL SPOIL ALL. THEY THINK IN THE TRAIN I'M A HIGHLAND CHIEF!"] [Illustration: _THE LATEST FASHION._ _Charles._ "SWEET STYLE OF TROWSER, GUS!" _Gus._ "YA-AS! AND SO DOOSED COMFORTABLE. THEY'RE CALLED PANTALONS À LA PEG-TOP!" Charles. "NO!--REALLY!"] [Illustration: _A SKETCH ON THE DOWNS._ _Jolly Post Boy of the Period._ "I SAY, BILL, DON'T YER WISH IT WAS DARBY DAY ALL THE YEAR ROUND?"] [Illustration: _THE GUARDIAN OF THE FIELD._] [Illustration: _THE PIOUS PUBLIC-HOUSE._ (WHERE YOU MAY GET ADULTERATED BEER AND GIN.) A PLACE IN WHICH THE GREAT BREWERS _DON'T_ SEE ANY PARTICULAR HARM] [Illustration: _THE PROFLIGATE PASTRYCOOK'S._ (WHERE THEY SERVE THE DEMORALISING VEAL PIE AND GLASS OF SHERRY, OR FRENCH LIGHT WINE.) TOO SHOCKING TO THINK OF!] [Illustration: _NO. 999 GOVERNMENT TRANSPORT. OFF QUEENSTOWN--VISITORS ON BOARD._ _Party (in cheery tone, calculated to impart confidence to the weaker sex)._ "FOLLOW ME, FOLLOW ME--THERE'S NO CAUSE FOR ALARM, I ASSURE YOU. WOA--WO--WO--MY MAN--STEADY, MARE--WO! (_sotto voce._) I'M DEUCED GLAD IT'S THEIR HEADS INSTEAD OF THEIR HEELS--WO'"] [Illustration: _HONOUR TO THE BRAVE!_ _Flunkey (reads)._ "_Yesterday, thirty of the Invalids from the Crimea were inspected * * * many of the gallant fellows were dreadfully mutilated at the Alma and Inkermann. * * * After the inspection, ten of the Guards were regaled in the Servants' Hall._" _Flunkey (loq.)_. "REGALED IN THE SERVANTS' 'ALL! EH? WELL, I DON'T THINK THEY'VE ANY CALL TO GRUMBLE ABOUT NOT BEIN' 'HONOURED SUFFICIENT!'"] [Illustration: _WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH HIM?_ WHY, THE FACT IS, THE STUPID AND GREEDY BOY HAS MISTAKEN FOR JAM, AND SWALLOWED, A RATHER FINE SPECIMEN OF THE ACTINEA EQUINA, OR PURPLE SEA ANEMONE WHICH AUNT FOOZLE HAS BROUGHT FROM THE COAST!] [Illustration: _WEIGHT FOR AGE._ _Nurse_. "DRAT THE CHILD! WHY CANT YER WALK?--YER MORE PLAGUE THAN ALL MY MONEY!"] [Illustration: _BY THE FAST TRAIN._ _Railway Porter._ "ANY LUGGAGE, MISS?" _Young Lady (who is also a leetle fast)._ "YES! PORTMANTEAU, A LITTLE BAY HORSE AND A BLACK RETRIEVER!--AND LOOK HERE, GET ME A HANSOM!"] [Illustration: "_IN THE BAY OF BISCAY, O!_" THE LAST SWEET THINGS IN HATS AND WALKING-STICKS AT BIARRITZ.] [Illustration: _THE GREAT WHISKER-CUTTING MOVEMENT._ _Unhappy Sub._ "BY JOVE, YOU KNOW, AS IF ALDERSHOT WASN'T BAD ENOUGH OF ITSELF, WITHOUT DEPRIVING US OF THE ONLY AMUSEMENT WE HAD!"] [Illustration: _THE LEGAL SOLFEGGIO._ (Musics: IN RE DOE VER SUS RICH ARD ROE.)] [Illustration: _TOO BAD._ _Professor Pumper._ "MAY I ASK, MISS BLANK, WHY YOU ARE MAKING THOSE LITTLE PELLETS?" _Miss B._ "WELL, I DON'T KNOW. IT IS A HABIT I HAVE. I ALWAYS MAKE BREAD PILLS WHEN I FEEL BORED AT DINNER!"] [Illustration: _END OF A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY._] [Illustration: _A SHORT CUT THROUGH THE WOOD._ _Sporting Gent._ "'OUNDS BEEN THROUGH HERE, OLD MAN?" _Old Man._ "YA'AS!" _Sporting Gent._ "'OW LONG?" _Old Man._ "FIVE-AND-TWENTY MINNITS ABOUT!"] [Illustration: _PHEASANT SHOOTING. A WARM CORNER._] [Illustration: _AT DIEPPE._ _Jones._ "H'M! HERE'S A PRETTY TO-DO! CAN'T FIND MY MACHINE NOW!"] [Illustration: _MOSSOO LEARNING TO FLOAT._] [Illustration: _DIVING BELLES._] [Illustration: _BOIS DE BOULOGNE--FOR CAVALIERS ONLY._] [Illustration: _A GAROTTE EFFECT._ THIS IS DE ROBINSON, WHO, IN HIS HURRY AND ANXIETY TO BE IN TIME FOR DINNER, PUTS HIS KNUCKLE-DUSTERS IN HIS COAT-TAIL POCKET. (SENSATION SCENE.)] [Footnote E: [Illustration: THE KNUCKLE-DUSTER, OR SOMETHING LIKE IT.]] [Illustration: _ART TREASURES._ _Reginald (who has a fine taste, and is very fond of curious old Glass)._ "NOW, UNCLE, HELP YOURSELF, AND PASS THE BOTTLE."] [Illustration: _YOUNG AMERICA._] [Illustration: _A FRESHENER ON THE DOWNS._] [Illustration: _WHAT IS IT?_ _First Boy (loq.)._ "I TELL YER IT'S 'ED'S HERE!--I SEEN IT MOVE!" _Second Ditto._ "I SAY IT'S AT THIS END, YER STOOPID!--I CAN SEE 'IS EARS!"] [Illustration: _A PAINFUL SUBJECT._ _Old Gent. (with tender feet)._ "NOW, BOY, BE VERY CAREFUL!" _Boy._ "OH, YES, YOUR HONOUR! THESE 'ERE KNOBS 'LL TAKE A BEAUTIFUL POLISH!"] [Illustration: _PRUDENCE._ _Matilda (with the hat)._ "WELL, DEAR, NO ONE EVER PRESUMED TO ADDRESS _ME_. STILL, AFTER ALL THE LETTERS IN THE PAPERS, I THINK NO GIRL OF PREPOSSESSING APPEARANCE SHOULD EVER GO OUT UNPROTECTED; SO I ALWAYS TAKE THOMPSON NOW!"] [Illustration: _HUSH! HUSH!_ _Aunt (handling Young Lady's abundant hair)._ "WHAT A TROUBLE, DEAR KITTY, YOUR HAIR IS TO ONE!" _Dear Kitty._ "OH, AUNTY, IF IT'S A TROUBLE, WHY DON'T YOU PUT KITTY'S HAIR IN YOUR DRAWER, JUST AS YOU DO WITH YOUR OWN?"] [Illustration: _THE QUIP MODEST._ _Swell._ "BOY! WHO'S CAB'S THIS?" _Boy._ "WHAT ODDS IS THAT TO YOU? DO YOU S'POSE MY GOV'N'R GIVES ME BOARD WAGES TO TELL WHO BELONGS TO US?"] [Illustration: _A STOUT ASSERTION._ _Old Party (reads)._ "CRYSTAL PALACE--THIS DAY--FÊTE OF THE AMATEUR GYMNASTIC SOCIETY,--'THAT'S THE HOLIDAY FOR ME!'"] [Illustration: _THE COURTESIES OF TRAVEL._ _Juvenile._ "DO YOU OBJECT TO MY SMOKING A CIGAR, SIR?" _Elderly Party._ "OH NO, CERTAINLY NOT, IF IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU SICK!"] [Illustration: _LOOKING AT IT PLEASANTLY._ _Friend (on the bank)._ "WELL, JACK! HAVE YOU HAD PRETTY GOOD SPORT?" _Jack._ "SPORT! IF YOU CALL IT SPORT TO HAVE NO WATER AND NO FISH, AND TO PAY NINETY POUNDS FOR THREE WEEKS OF IT, I'VE HAD PLENTY!"] [Illustration: _PRACTISING ON A PATIENT._ _Young Practitioner._ "H'M, VERY ODD--! MUST HAVE MADE SOME MISTAKE; THERE'S NOTHING THE MATTER WITH _THIS_ TOOTH. NEVER MIND, TRY AGAIN!"] [Illustration: _AN OFFICE INCIDENT._ _Infuriated Principal, opening Fast Clerk's telegram by mistake (reads)._ "'TOM TIT' SURE TO WIN--TELEGRAPH AND SAY IF YOU WILL HAVE PONY ON--IF SO, SEND CASH TO-DAY!"] [Illustration: _GOING TO COVER._ _Brown (who has given Tomkins, from Town, a Mount)._ "YOU NEEDN'T BE THE LEAST AFRAID. IT'S ONLY HIS PLAY. HE'LL BE ALL RIGHT AFTER HE HAS BEEN OVER A FEW FENCES!"] [Illustration: _THE BATTUE._ _Swell Keeper (to party assembled)._ "NOW, I WANTS A COUPLE O' LORDS FORRAO--A COUPLE O' LORDS ON THE RIGHT, AND A COUPLE O' LORDS ON THE LEFT!" (_Turning to humble Commoner in Knickerbockers and Zouave gaiters._) "YOU TRY THE HIGH STUFF WITH THE BEATERS, AND TAKE YOUR CHANCE OF A HARE BACK."] [Illustration: _JOLLY ANGLERS._ OLD FLOAT AND TOM GENTLE DON'T GET ANY BITES, SO THEY LAND ON AN ISLAND TO HAVE A QUIET SMOKE--THEY SUDDENLY DISCOVER THAT THE ROPE HAS SLIPPED, AND THE BOAT IS DRIFTING DOWN THE RIVER! (_No one near for miles._)] [Illustration: _DINER À LA RUSSE._ _Host._ "STAY, STEVENS--WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE SALMON? NOBODY HAS HAD ANY OF IT!" _Butler._ "PRAY, SIR, WHAT ARE WE TO HAVE FOR SUPPER?"] [Illustration: _A DOUBTFUL COMPLIMENT._ _Mr. Bristles._ "THEN YOU REALLY THINK IT AN IMPROVEMENT, EH?" _Miss Spikes._ "DECIDEDLY--IT HIDES SO MUCH MORE OF YOUR FACE."] [Illustration: _A TRUE TALE._ THE EARTHQUAKE WAS FELT, TOO, IN MANY PARTS OF LONDON. THIS IS OLD BEERY, THE CHURCHWARDEN, WHO DECLARES THAT WHEN HE CAME OUT OF THE MARQUIS OF GRANBY THE PAVEMENT HIT HIM ON THE NOSE, AND THAT HIS STREET-DOOR WOULDN'T LET HIM GET HIS LATCH-KEY IN.] [Illustration: _CURIOUS ECHO AT A RAILWAY STATION._ _Traveller._ "PORTER! PORTER!" _Echo._ "DON'T YOU WISH YOU MAY GET HIM?"] [Illustration: _A DIFFICULT TASK._ _Costermonger._ "NOW, MISTER, I WANTS MY DELICACY OF TOUCH RESTORED, AND THE SEAL OF HELEGANCE IMPRESSED UPON MY BUNCH OF FIVES!"] [Illustration: _DISSENTERS IN THE UNIVERSITY._ _Head of House._ "PRAY, SIR, MAY I ASK WHY YOU HAVE NOT BEEN ATTENDING CHAPEL?" _Sir Liabed Rattlecash._ "WHY, SIR, THE FACT IS--AW--THAT--I--AW--HAVE BECOME A DISSENTER."] [Illustration: _A DRAWING-ROOM._ _William._ "NOW, CHAWLES, AIN'T YOU READY? _OUR_ CARRIAGE IS AT THE DOOR AND THE FOLKS ARE IN!"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM, &c.--No. XIV._ _Lady._ "THEN, WHY DID YOU LEAVE?" _Domestic._ "WELL, MA'AM, IF YOU ARST ME, I B'LIEVE THE REEL REASON WERE, THAT MISSUS THOUGHT I WERE TOO GOOD-LOOKING!"] [Illustration: _AN OPPORTUNITY._ _Frederick (pointing to sleeping Cabby)._ "THERE, AUNT! NOW'S YOUR TIME FOR A PAIR OF GLOVES!"] [Illustration: _CHAMBER PRACTICE._ _Messenger (from Studious Party in the floor below)._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, MASTER'S COMPLIMENTS, AND HE SAYS HE'D BE MUCH OBLIGED IF YOU'D LET HIM KNOW WHEN THE REPAIRS WILL BE FINISHED, FOR THE KNOCKING DO DISTURB HIM SO!"] [Illustration: _TAKING THE RISKS._ _First Undergraduate._ "HI! FRANK! HERE'S A GATE!" _Second Undergraduate._ "GATE! I DIDN'T PAY TWO GUINEAS TO GO THROUGH GATES, WITH SUCH LOVELY POSTS AND RAILS BEFORE ME!"] [Illustration: _A TOLERABLY BROAD HINT._ _Cabby (after driving a couple of miles, suddenly stops opposite a roadside Public House)._ "OH, I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR, BUT YOU DIDN'T SAY AS WE WAS TO PULL UP ANYWHERES, DID YOU, SIR?"] [Illustration: _CONSOLATION._ _Emily (to rejected Subs)._ "IT'S VERY DISAGREEABLE, CERTAINLY, TO BE UNSUCCESSFUL IN YOUR EXAMINATIONS, AND SO MANY TIMES, TOO! BUT I SHOULD WORK HARD, AND TRY AGAIN." _Younger and much too sharp Brother._ "NEVER YOU MIND, CHARLEY! IT PROVES THAT THERE'S NO WANT OF _PLUCK_ ABOUT YOU!"] [Illustration: _A SIGN OF PROGRESS._ _Cousin Florence._ "WELL, TOMMY, AND SO YOU LIKE YOUR LITTLE FRIEND PHILIP, DO YOU? AND HOW OLD DO YOU THINK HE IS?" _Tommy._ "WELL, I DON'T EXACTLY KNOW; BUT I SHOULD THINK HE WAS _RATHER_ OLD, FOR HE BLOWS _HIS OWN NOSE!_"] [Illustration: _AN UNFEELING HUSBAND._ "NOW, MY LOVE!--ARE YOU NOT READY FOR CHURCH?" "READY FOR CHURCH, MR. SMITH!--HOW YOU TALK!--WHEN YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL THAT ODIOUS MISS JACKSON HAS NOT SENT HOME MY NEW BARÈGE DRESS!"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE SMOKE-JACK._ _Small Foxhunter._ "HERE! STOP A BIT, MAJOR, HAVE ONE OF MINE! THE GOVERNOR'S AIN'T IN GOOD CONDITION--NOW I'VE HAD MINE FOR EVER SO MANY YEARS, AND THEY'RE SPLENDID!"] [Illustration: _A VERY VULGAR SUBJECT._ _Boys._ "OH, AIN'T HE MOPS AND BROOMS, NEITHER!" _Baker._ "WHY DON'T THEY TAKE HIM TO THE STATION?" _Tender Female._ "HE'S ILL, POOR GENTLEMAN, HE SHOULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL!" _Cabby (contemptuously)._ "HILL! 'ORSEPITAL INDEED!--_I ONY WISH I'D GOT ARF HIS COMPLAINT!_"] [Illustration: _THE PHOTOGRAPH._ _Mary._ "WHY, TUMMAS, IT'S THE VERY MORAL OF YER!" _Tummas._ "PRETTY THING, AIN'T IT? PITY THE YALLER OF THE UNIFORM COMES SO BLACK!"] [Illustration: _CRINOLINE FOR DOMESTIC USE._ _Domestic._ "BOTHER MISSUS. SHE WEARS IT HERSELF, AND I DON'T SEE WHY I SHOULDN'T."] [Illustration: _SOMETHING IN THAT!_ "NOW, TOM," SAID YOUNG JOE WAGLEY, "ONE OF US OUGHT TO GO ON THIS SIDE OF THE HEDGE, AND ONE ON THE OTHER; SO I'LL TAKE THIS, IF YOU WILL GET OVER THE STILE."--"OH, YES," REPLIED TOM; "BUT HOW ABOUT THE BULL?"] [Illustration: _SALMON FISHING._ _Piscator._ "FOLLOW HIM UP! IT'S ALL VERY WELL TO SAY FOLLOW HIM UP!"] [Illustration: _A MERE TRIFLE._ _Gertrude._ "BUT, MY DEAR ARTHUR, HOW CAME YOU TO GET SUCH A 'CROPPER,' AS YOU CALL IT?" _Arthur._ "WELL! IT WAS JUST THE LITTLE BIT OF A PLACE WHERE A FELLOW DOES GET SPILT SOMETIMES--THERE WAS A DITCH ABOUT A COUPLE OF YARDS WIDE, AND THEN A HIGHISH BANK, YOU KNOW, WITH A STIFFISH QUICKSET ON THE TOP--AND A NASTYISH POST AND RAILS JUST BEYOND--AND THEN ANOTHER WIDISH SORT OF A DITCH AND INTO A FIELD WHERE THEY HAD BEEN DRAINING--AND SO, YOU SEE, SOMEHOW OR OTHER, WE CAME TO GRIEF!"] [Illustration: _REAL TRAGEDY._ _Old Party (proprietor of nasty yapping Pet Dog)._ "OH, POLICEMAN! MY DARLING FLO JUST BIT THAT HORRID MAN'S LEG, AND HE HAS HIT HER WITH HIS CANE."] [Illustration: _ON DUTY._] [Illustration: _A CONNOISSEUR._ AT A DINNER GIVEN BY MY LORD BRODACRES TO SOME OF HIS TENANTS, CURAÇOA IS HANDED IN A LIQUEUR-GLASS TO OLD TURNIPTOPS, WHO, SWALLOWING IT WITH MUCH RELISH, SAYS--"OI ZAY, YOUNG MAN! OI'LL TAK ZUM O' THAT IN A MOOG!"] [Illustration: _WELL TIMED._ _Boy._ "PLEASE, SIR, TELL ME THE TIME." _Crusty old Gent._ "YES, SIR--BED-TIME."] [Illustration: _SINGULAR OPTICAL DELUSION._ _Gentleman._ "THERE, LOVE: DO YOU SEE THAT STEAMER?" _Lady._ "OH, DISTINCTLY! THERE ARE TWO."] [Illustration: _THE NEW SCHOOL._ _Uncle (who is rather proud of his cellar)._ "NOW, GEORGE, MY BOY, THERE'S A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE FOR YOU--DON'T GET SUCH STUFF AT SCHOOL, EH? EH? EH?" _George._ "H'M--AWFULLY SWEET! VERY GOOD SORT FOR LADIES--BUT I'VE ARRIVED AT A TIME OF LIFE, WHEN I CONFESS I LIKE MY WINE _DRY_!" (_Sensation._)] [Illustration: _DELICIOUS!_ HUNTING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.--A MOUNT IN THE MIDLANDS.] [Illustration: _A QUIET REBUKE._ _Fare (who has driven rather a hard bargain and is settling)._ "BUT WHY, MY GOOD MAN, DO YOU PUT THAT CLOTH OVER THE HORSE'S HEAD?" _Car-Driver._ "SHURE, YER HONOUR, THIN--I SHOULDN'T LIKE HIM TO SEE HOW LITTLE YE PAY FOR SUCH A HARD DAYS WOR-RK!"] [Illustration: _THE CONTEMPLATIVE MAN'S RECREATION._ _Brown (excited)._ "HI, JONES!--NET! NET! NET!--MAKE HASTE, OR I SHALL LOSE HIM!" _Jones (who is rather giddy and nervous)._ "EH!--AH!--RIGHT!--TO BE SURE!--YES!--I--I--I--I'M COMING--AS FAST--AS--OH DEAR!--AS POSSIBLE!"] [Illustration: _A CONTENTED MIND._ _Old Wurzel._ "WELL, MUSTER CHAWLES, SO YOU'VE BEEN A RIDING THE YOUNG UN.--HOW DOES HE GO?" _Muster Chawles._ "OH, SPLENDID! NEVER CARRIED BETTER IN MY LIFE! IT WAS HIS FIRST RUN, AND WE ONLY CAME DOWN FIVE TIMES!"] [Illustration: _HOUSEHOLD ECONOMY._ PATERFAMILIAS, WITH HIS USUAL PRUDENCE AND FORESIGHT, ORDERS A QUANTITY OF BEER OF THE OCTOBER BREWING. HE HAS JUST BEEN INFORMED THAT ALL THE BARRELS ARE "A-WORKIN' AND A-BUSTIN'!"] [Illustration: _THE HUMOUR OF THE STREETS._ _Butcher Boy (and Butcher Boys are so impudent)._ "NOW THEN, SWIPEY! ARE YOU GOING TO STOP THERE TILL YOU GET _FINE_, AFORE YOU _DRAW YOURSELF OFF_?"] [Illustration: _THE FASHION FOR NEXT SUMMER._ _Flora._ "THERE! I DON'T THINK THE STUPID MEN CAN LAUGH AT US NOW!"] [Illustration: _INNOCENT DELUSIONS._ _Georgina._ "DO YOU KNOW, DEAR, I'M SO UNHAPPY NOW DEAR CHARLES HAS GONE!" _Gertrude._ "AND I MISS DEAR PERCY DREADFULLY--I DO HOPE THEY'LL GET HOME SAFELY!"] [Illustration: _A HORSEDEALER'S LOGIC._ _Customer._ "WHY, YOU DON'T CALL _THAT_ A HUNTER, DO YOU?" _Dealer._ "WELL, SIR, I'LL TELL YOU ALL I KNOW ABOUT THE 'ORSE. HAD HIM DOWN FROM 'ORNCASTLE FAIR LAST WEEK--PUT JIMMY ON HIM, WOULDN'T 'ACK A YARD--PUT HIM IN THE BREAK, WOULDN'T DRAW A BOUNCE. NOW, THE 'ORSE NEVER COULD HAVE BEEN CREATED FOR NOTHING; SO HE MUST BE A HUNTER!"] [Illustration: _OYSTERS._ _Itinerant Oyster Man._ "NOW, THEN--HAVE ANOTHER DOZEN, IF YOU'VE GOT ANY MORE MONEY!!"] [Illustration: _QUITE EXHAUSTED._] [Illustration: _A GRIEVANCE._ _Testy Old Gent (to Butler)._ "CLARET! YES! PUT IT DOWN; AND PRAY, SIMPSON, DON'T BLOW UPON MY HEAD SO."] [Illustration: _IMPROVING THE TIME._ AS SLEEP IS OUT OF THE QUESTION, OWING TO THOSE CONFOUNDED WAITS, MR. BANGS, LIKE A SENSIBLE PERSON, ACCOMMODATES HIMSELF TO CIRCUMSTANCES, AND PRACTISES HIS DANCING!] [Illustration: _RAILWAY MORALS._ _Guard._ "NOW, MISS! ARE YOU GOING BY THIS TRAIN?" _Miss Rebecca._ "YES! BUT I MUST HAVE A CARRIAGE WHERE THERE ARE NO YOUNG MEN LIKELY TO BE RUDE TO ONE."] [Illustration: _THE CHRISTENING OF JONES'S FIRST. (A FACT.)_ _First Street Boy (without veneration, or sense of propriety)._ "HOLLA! BILL! WHAT'S ALL THIS 'ERE?" _Second Street Boy (without ditto, ditto, ditto)._ "WHY--DON'T YER SEE?--IT'S ONLY A KITTEN GOING TO BE 'UNG!"] [Illustration: _GROUNDLESS ALARM._ _Darling (in straw hat)._ "WHAT ARE YOU BUYING, DEAR?" _Darling (in black hat)._ "WHY, I'M BUYING A _PUNCH_. THE IMPUDENT THING HAS PUT ME IN AS ONE OF HIS GIRLS!"] [Illustration: _RATHER A KITCHENY WAY OF PUTTING IT._ _Housemaid._ "OH--BUT IT COULDN'T A BIN 'ER!" _Cook._ "I TELL YER IT WERE--SHE CALLED UPON MISSUS THIS MORNING, AND SHE 'AD ON A PORK PIE 'AT, AND HALF A PHEASANT STUCK IN IT!"] [Illustration: _A GEOGRAPHICAL JOKE._ _Impertinent Page (late from the dining-room)._ "I SAY, COOKEY AND SOOSAN, YOU MAKE A PRECIOUS FUSS ABOUT A FLEA,--HOW'D YER LIKE TO BE WHERE THE BLACK SEA SAILORS IS NOW?" _Susan._ "WHERE'S THAT, IMPERANCE?" _Page._ "WHY, MASTER SAYS IT'S WHERE THE BUG AND THE NIPPER (DNIEPER) MEET IN ONE BED!" (_Sensation and loud cries of "Oh!"_)] [Illustration: _A SPECIAL PLEADER._ _Fair Equestrian._ "NOW, DON'T BE A CROSS OLD PUNCH; WE REALLY WON'T SPOIL THE BEAUTY OF THE GARDENS."] [Illustration: _ANXIOUS INQUIRERS._ ILL! OH, DEAR NO! ONLY INDISPOSED--TO WALK.] [Illustration: _VERY SLANGY._ _Clara._ "HOW DO YOU LIKE MY NEW WAISTCOAT, DEAR?" _Harriette._ "WELL, I DECLARE IT'S SWEETLY PRETTY!--THE MOST--A--A--THE MOST SLAP UP THING I'VE SEEN FOR A LONG TIME."] [Illustration: _HORRID GIRL!_ _Mild Youth._ "HAVE YOU SEEN 'THE COLLEEN BAWN'?" _Horrid Girl (with extreme velocity)._ "SEEN 'THE COLLEEN BAWN'! DEAR, DEAR! YES, OF COURSE. SAW IT LAST OCTOBER! AND I'VE BEEN TO THE CRYSTAL PALACE, AND I'VE READ THE GORILLA BOOK!" (_Mild Youth is shut up._)] [Illustration: _GOING TO COURT._] [Illustration: _HARRY TAKES HIS COUSINS TO SEE THE HOUNDS MEET._ _Mamma and Aunt Ellen (to Old Woman)._ "PRAY, HAVE YOU MET TWO LADIES AND A GENTLEMAN?" _Old Woman._ "WELL, I MET THREE PEOPLE--BUT, LA! THERE, I CAN'T TELL LADIES FROM GENTLEMEN NOW-A-DAYS--WHEN I WAS A GAL," &c. &c.] [Illustration: _A SKETCH AT A STEEPLE-CHACE.--THE BROOK JUMP._ _Bumpkin, No. 1._ "WA-AT--ARE THEY A-GWOANG TO JOOMP THIS?" _Bumpkin, No. 2._ "YA-AS!" _Bumpkin, No. 1._ "THEN, I'D RAYTHER WALK THREW!"] [Illustration: _FORCE OF HABIT._ _Old Party (in Hansom)._ "HERE! HOLLO! HI! WHAT ARE YOU DRIVING LIKE THAT, FOR? STOP! LET ME OUT!" _Cabby._ "ALL RIGHT, SIR! I'LL STOP 'IM DIRECTLY, SIR--I _DRUV_ A FIRE-ENGINE FOR TWO YEAR!!"] [Illustration: _LONDON CREAM._ _Cook._ "DO YOU CALL THIS CREAM? WHY IT'S THINNER THAN MILK!" _Milkman._ "OH, ALL IT WANTS IS WELL STIRRING UP--THE CREAM'S AT THE BOTTOM!!"] [Illustration: _IN STATE._] [Illustration: _HUNTING FROM TOWN.--IT IS SAFER TO GO WITH YOUR ANIMAL._ _Railway Porter (reflectively)._ "EARLY TRAIN! LET'S SEE! LITTLE BAY 'OSS, AND A BROWN 'OSS WITH A BIG KNEE? HAH! THEN YOU MAY DEPEND THEY'RE THE 'OSSES AS WENT ON TO YORK!"] [Illustration: _SPORT(?) FOWL SHOOTING._ THE FEROCIOUS PHEASANTS THINK THEY ARE GOING TO BE FED, AND SURROUND THE HONOURABLE MR. BATTUE ACCORDINGLY.] [Illustration: _AN ESCORT._ _Boy._ "NOW, MISSUS, THERE'S NO BUSSES, KITCH 'OLD OF MY HARM, AND I'LL TAKE YER OVER!"] [Illustration: _PLEASANT!_ _Friend (to Novice at Salmon fishing)._ "I SAY, OLD BOY, MIND HOW YOU WADE; THERE ARE SOME TREMENDOUS HOLES, FOURTEEN OR FIFTEEN FEET DEEP."] [Illustration: _PET-LOVE._ _Old--what shall we call her?_--"RUN, ROBERT! RUN! THERE'S THAT DARLING PLAYING WITH A STRANGE CHILD!"] [Illustration: _IMPORTANT MATTER._ _Augustus._ "I SAY, LAURA, JUST TELL US BEFORE ANY ONE COMES, WHETHER MY BACK HAIR'S PARTED STRAIGHT!"] [Illustration: _USEFUL AND ORNAMENTAL._ _Clara (reads)._ "EXCUSE, DEAREST, THE PAPER ON WHICH I WRITE--I HAVE NOT MY DESK WITH ME, SO I SEND YOU THESE FEW HURRIED LINES ON ONE OF MY COLLARS."] [Illustration: _AN IMPOSTOR._ _Wife._ "CHARLES, DEAR. THERE'S A PERSON AT THE DOOR WANTS TO KNOW WHETHER YOU WANT ANY ORNAMENT FOR YOUR FIREPLACE." _Charles._ "MY DARLING! WHAT BETTER ORNAMENT CAN I HAVE THAN YOUR OWN SWEET SELF?" (_The wretch is going to dine at Greenwich with some bachelor friends, for all that._)] [Illustration: _DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE._] [Illustration: _A NIGHTMARE._ _Vision of the Night._ "ANY FRESH PRAWNS THIS MARNIN?"] [Illustration: _VERY CRUEL SATIRE._ _Mary (maliciously, to her Cousin on leave)._ "HENRY, DEAR! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS ORDER ABOUT REDUCING THE OFFICERS' WHISKERS AT ALDERSHOT? WHAT A SHAME! I'M SURE IF I WERE YOU I SHOULD RESIST IT!" (_Haw_--HENRY _doesn't see the point._)] [Illustration: _YOUNG NORTHAMPTONSHIRE._ _Master Harry (loq.)._ "QUICK THING, THAT! DID YOU FELLOWS SEE IT? I GOT POUNDED!"] [Illustration: _A DEAL._ _Novice._ "OH, YES--HE'S A FINE HORSE; BUT ISN'T HE RATHER BENT ABOUT THE LEGS?" _Dealer._ "BENT ABOUT THE LEGS? STANDS A LITTLE OVER, P'RAPS--BUT THAT AIN'T NO DETTERMENT TO HIM. THE BEST OF OSSES IS SOMETIMES FOALED SO!"] [Illustration: _STARTLING RESULT._ OLD MR. WIGGLES TRIES HIS NEW SEWING-MACHINE, AND FINDS HIS GARMENTS THROW OUT BUTTONS IN A VERY INDISCRIMINATE MANNER.] [Illustration: _COMFORTABLE QUARTERS._ THE HOUR BEFORE DINNER--NOT THE WORST PART OF A DAY'S HUNTING.] [Illustration: _AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL._ DELIGHT OF THE HON. TOM RASPER (WHO HAS PROMISED HIMSELF A DAY WITH THE PYTCHLEY), ON FINDING THAT THE BOX WITH HIS HUNTER HAS BEEN LEFT AT GOWLEIGH STATION, WHILE A FINE YOUNG BULL, INTENDED FOR THAT PLACE, HAS BEEN BROUGHT ON TO--HARBOROUGH, SHALL WE SAY?] [Illustration: _A FACT._ _Groom._ "YE SEE, SIR! THE LADIES KNOCKS 'OSSES ABOUT SO! THEY GETS UPON A 'OSS, SIR, AND THEY SAYS, 'MY EYES! HE'S A 'OSS, AND HE MUST GO!'"] [Illustration: _THE TOLL-BAR NUISANCE._ _Cabby (to impudent Boy at Gate)._ "AH! YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN A SAUCY YOUNG DOG; BUT YOU'RE GOING TO BE DONE AWAY WITH, THAT'S ONE COMFORT--AND YOU CAN'T GROW INTO A TURNPIKE _MAN_!"] [Illustration: _LA MODE._ _Rude Boy._ "OH, IF 'ERE AIN'T A GAL BEEN AND PUT ON A DUSTMAN'S 'AT!"] [Illustration: _EFFECT OF STOPPING THE GROG._ "COME ALONG, JACK, MY HEARTY; NOTHING LIKE LAYING UP FOR A RAINY DAY."] [Illustration: _FLATTERING PROPOSAL._ _Volunteer._ "I SAY, LUCY, WE'RE GOING TO HAVE VIV_AN_DIERES IN OUR CORPS. NOW, IF YOU LIKE, I'LL APPOINT YOU TO ATTEND UPON ME!"] [Illustration: _A SERIOUS COMPLAINT._ _Col._ "NO, SIR! YOU CAN'T HAVE FOUR IN YOUR HUT!--WHIST, INDEED!" _Lieut._ "VERY HARD! THEN, WE MUST PLAY DUMMY!"] [Illustration: _A GENT AT COST PRICE._] [Illustration: _A CAPITAL FINISH._ _Excited but rather behind-hand Party._ "NOW, THEN, MY MAN, HAVE YOU SEEN 'EM? WHICH WAY HAVE THEY GONE?" _Man._ "ALL RIGHT, SIR. THEY'RE DOWN 'ERE; FOX AN' 'OUNDS IS JUST RUN INTO _TH' INFANT SCHOOL_!"] [Illustration: _OUR FOREIGN VISITORS._ WHATEVER MAY BE A FRENCHMAN'S DEFECTS, HE AT LEAST KNOWS HOW TO DRESS--AND ISN'T THE HAT HE WEARS A SWEET THING?] [Illustration: _AN ORDER WE HOPE TO SEE ISSUED._ "THE POLICE HAVE STRICT ORDERS TO BONNET, PUT IN A SACK, AND LOCK UP ALL URCHINS WHO DISTURB THE PEACE OF THE METROPOLIS BY SCREAMING OUT 'DIXIES' LAND.'"] [Illustration: _EFFECT OF SIXPENCE A MILE._ _Cabby._ "WELL! WE AIN'T ALLOWED TO _SAY_ MUCH, BUT I'M _THINKING_ A DOOSE OF A LOT!"] [Illustration: _OCULAR DEMONSTRATION._ _Gent._ "OH, AH! AND WHAT DO YOU FEED THE HORSES ON?" _Driver._ "BUTTER-TUBS--DON'T YER SEE THE HOOPS?"] [Illustration: _THE CARTE DE VISITE._ _Gent (in Photographic Studio)._ "A--LOOK 'ERE, YOU KNOW, MISTER, I DON'T WANT MY CART PUBLISHED, YOU KNOW, BUT IF ANY NICE GAL OR LADY OF RANK SHOULD WANT A COPY, WHY, YOU CAN SELL IT HER, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL._ _Monthly Nurse._ "BUT I CAN'T FIND MY BOX, SIR!" _Paterfamilias (furious)._ "CONFOUND YOUR BOX! YOU MUST GET IN AND LEAVE IT, AND WE'LL TELEGRAPH FOR IT.--COME! THE TRAIN'S STARTING!" _Monthly Nurse._ "OH YES, SIR, THAT'S ALL VERY WELL. ONLY I THOUGHT AS MY BOX HAS GOT ALL YOUR PLATE AND LINEN IN IT," &C., &C., &C.] [Illustration: _VERY CAREFUL._ _Economical Peer (with feeling)._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, THOMPSON! HAVEN'T YOU MEN GOT AN UMBRELLA OUTSIDE?" _Thompson._ "NO, MY LORD!" _Peer._ "DEAR! DEAR! DEAR!--THEN GIVE ME THOSE NEW HATS INSIDE!"] [Illustration: _AN X-CELLENT NOTION._ PROPOSED NEW UNIFORM FOR THE POLICE.] [Illustration: _NOT SO BAD AS HE SEEMS._ _Country Friend (apropos of Cockney Ditto)._ "UPON MY WORD, THOMAS, IF I THOUGHT HE HAD BEEN SO DANGEROUS, I WOULDN'T HAVE BROUGHT HIM OUT." _Keeper._ "WELL, HE DU SHOOT A LEETLE WILD, SIR--BUT IT AIN'T O' MUCH CONSEQUENCE--I LOAD FOR UN--AND I DON'T PUT NO SHOT IN!"] [Illustration: _CONFIRMED BACHELOR._ _Master G. O'Rilla._ "DEAW! HOW SHOCKING! THERE'S ANOTHER GOOD FELLAH DONE FOR!" _Cousins._ "WHY, WHAT HAS HAPPENED, GUS?" _Gus._ "HAPPENED! WHY, CHARLEY BAGSHOT _GONE MARRIED_!"] [Illustration: _NOT SO EASY._ _Voices in the Wood._ "NOW THEN, GET ON IN FRONT!"] [Illustration: _THE BEACH.--A SKETCH FOR WARM WEATHER._] [Illustration: _WALTZING OF THE PERIOD._ THE LADY HONORIA D----, AS SHE APPEARED TAKING LEAVE OF HER MAMMA, PREVIOUS TO GOING INTO ACTION! THE LADY HONORIA AS SHE APPEARED WHEN THE ENGAGEMENT WAS OVER!] [Illustration: _GOING THROUGH THE ALPHABET._ WITH A PARDONABLE VANITY, TOMKINS, WHO HAS JUST JOINED HIS RIFLE CORPS, INVITES ARABELLA (TO WHOM HE IS ENGAGED) AND HER SISTER TO SEE HIM DRILLED. EVERYTHING MUST HAVE A BEGINNING, AND HE IS PUT THROUGH THE "GOOSE STEP" BEFORE THE NOT-ADMIRING EYES OF HIS DARLING!] [Illustration: _DECIDEDLY._ _Small Swell._ "MOST 'BSURD ROW THEY'RE KICKING UP ABOUT EQUESTRIANS IN KENSINGTON GARDENS! WHY THEY OUGHT TO BE DEUCED GLAD OF ANYTHING THAT ADDS TO THE BEAUTY OF THE PLACE--MY 'PINION."] [Illustration: _ANOTHER PRETTY LITTLE AMERICANISM._ _Englishman (to Fair New-Yorker)._ "MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF DANCING WITH YOU!" _Darling._ "I GUESS YOU MAY--FOR I CALC'LATE THAT IF I SIT MUCH LONGER HERE, _I SHALL BE TAKING ROOT_!"] [Illustration: _THE COSTERMONGER AS HE IS._ _Coster (with hideous yell)_. "YA! HO!--CAULIFLOWERS--HO!"] _AND_ [Illustration: _AS HE MIGHT BE._ _Coster (blandly and politely)._ "CAULIFLOWER, MA'AM. YES, MA'AM! IS THERE ANY OTHER ARTICLE?"] [Illustration: _THE ENGAGED ONES._ "LAW! CHARLES! ISN'T THERE A GREAT BLACK ON MY NOSE?"] [Illustration: _A SUBJECT FOR CHARITY._ FEARFUL POSITION OF AN OLD LADY FROM THE COUNTRY, WHOM LOW IMPUDENT LITTLE BOYS WILL TUMBLE BEFORE ALL THE WAY FROM THE STRAND TO THE CRYSTAL PALACE.] [Illustration: _A PRELIMINARY CANTER._ "COME, TOMPKINS, YOU'VE BEEN TITTUPPING UP AND DOWN THE PARADE FOR THE LAST HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES. IF YOU'RE GOING OUT HUNTING, YOU HAD BETTER GO."] [Illustration: _BILLIARDS._ _Frank (to Captain Brother, poking him in the ribs with a cue)._ "OH, COME, TOM, THAT WAS A FLUKE--A BEASTLY FLUKE!" (_N.B. The Captain having scored very neatly._)] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM, &c._--No. XV. _Lady._ "INDEED, SMITH, I CANNOT BEAR THE LAUGHING AND NOISE DOWNSTAIRS--IT IS QUITE INTOLERABLE!" _Cook._ "WELL, MAM! SOMETHING MUST BE DONE TO DEADEN THE SOUND; FOR THE NOISE UP-STAIRS IS EQUALLY ANNOYING TO HUS!"] [Illustration: _GROUNDLESS ALARM._ _Stout Equestrian._ "DO YOU KNOW, LOVE, I'M RATHER SORRY I GOT THIS HAT; FOR SUPPOSE I SHOULD BE TAKEN FOR A PRETTY HORSEBREAKER!"] [Illustration: _FLY-FISHING._ _Piscator._ "NOW THEN! I THINK I SHALL GET A _RISE_ HERE!"] [Illustration: _AWFUL APPARITION!_ _Mrs. T. (to T., who has been reading the popular novel)._ "PRAY, MR. TOMKINS, ARE YOU NEVER COMING UP-STAIRS? HOW MUCH LONGER ARE YOU GOING TO SIT UP WITH THAT 'WOMAN IN WHITE'?"] [Illustration: _PHILOSOPHY IN SPORT._ _Noble Swell (in scarlet)._ "HARK! BY JOVE, THAT'S A FIND!" _Party (in black)._ "'COURSE IT IS, MY LORD! JUST THE WAY WITH THEM 'OUNDS. DRAW--DRAW--DRAW--ALL THE MORNING, AND THEN DROP ON A FOX JUST AS VUN'S 'AVIN' VUN'S LUNCH!"] [Illustration: _EFFECTS OF THE WEATHER ON A SENSITIVE PLANT._--No. I. YOUNG NIMROD AS HE APPEARED BEFORE THE FROST--PERFECTLY DISENGAGED!] [Illustration: No. II. YOUNG DITTO, AFTER FOUR WEEKS' FROST IN A COUNTRY HOUSE--MOST PARTICULARLY ENGAGED!] [Illustration: _A LITTLE FAMILY BREEZE._ _Mrs. T._ "WHAT A WRETCH YOU MUST BE, T.! WHY DON'T YOU TAKE ME OFF? DON'T YOU SEE I'M OVERTOOK WITH THE TIDE, AND I SHALL BE DROWNDED!" _T._ "WELL, THEN--WILL YOU PROMISE NOT TO KICK UP SUCH A ROW WHEN I STOP OUT LATE OF A SATURDAY?"] [Illustration: _INFLUENCE OF THE RAILWAY ON THE RHINE._ _Emily._ "DO LOOK HERE, ARTHUR DEAR--SUCH A LOVELY VIEW, AND SOME MORE SUCH BEAUTIFUL CASTLES!" (_Arthur gives a prolonged grunt and snore._)] [Illustration: _A MAN OF IDEAS._ _Augustus._ "HAW! NEAT STYLE OF COB THAT, CHARLES!" _Charles._ "YAAS! SEVERE AIN'T IT? YOU SEE I'M WEADING FOR EXAMINATION. A'VE GOT A DOOCED GOOD COACH, AND WITH CLASSICAL PONY THINK A SHALL PULL THROUGH!"] [Illustration: _PRACTISING FOR A MATCH._ _Leonora._ "DEAR, DEAR! HOW THE ARROW STICKS!" _Captain Blank (with a sigh of the deepest)._ "IT DOES, INDEED!"] [Illustration: _HAIR-DRESSING NOW-A-DAYS._ _Lady (looking at her watch)._ "DEAR ME, I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS SO LATE. I THINK, PERHAPS, PARKER, YOU HAD BETTER GO AND DRESS THE YOUNG LADIES' HAIR." _Parker._ "OH, MAM, I DID THAT THIS MORNING, AND IT'S ON THE DRESSING-TABLE READY TO BE PINNED ON!"] [Illustration: _FEMININE RIVALRY._ _Hard-riding Young Lady._ "CUT MISS GEORGINA DOWN THAT TIME, I FANCY, AND HAVE GOT INTO THE SAME FIELD WITH GUS!"] [Illustration: _FITTING HOSPITALITY._ LITTLE TOM NODDY, WHO IS STILL FOND OF HUNTING, HAS A DAY WITH HIS FRIEND HOLLYOAK, WHO NOT ONLY MOUNTS HIM, BUT RIGS HIM UP IN A SUIT OF CLOTHES THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN MADE FOR HIM.] [Illustration: _A DUET UNDER DIFFICULTIES._ _Emily (sotto voce)._ "MY GOODNESS, EDITH, WHAT SHALL I DO?--MY NOSE ITCHES SO DREADFULLY, AND WE ARE COMING TO THE MOST DIFFICULT PART."] [Illustration: _A FLAGRANT ATTEMPT._ JONES PREPARES A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR HIS MARY ANN, AND HAS HIS EQUESTRIAN PORTRAIT TAKEN. HE REMARKS, "'ANG IT, YOU KNOW, IF I DO HAVE MY CARTE DONE, I DON'T SEE WHY I SHOULDN'T 'AVE MY 'ORSE!"] [Illustration: _USEFUL AT LAST._ THE MODERN GOVERNESS.--A YOUNG LADY'S IDEA OF THE USE OF CRINOLINE.] [Illustration: _VERY MUCH ALIVE._ DISCOMFITURE OF OLD MR. J--N--S, WHO, ON VISITING A PRIVATE COLLECTION, MISTAKES "PETER," THE GREAT HORNED OWL, FOR A STUFFED CAT.] [Illustration: _PROGRESS OF CIVILISATION._ _Ramoneur on Donkey._ "FITCH US OUT ANOTHER PEN'NORTH O' STRAWBERRY ICE, WITH A DOLLOP OF LEMON WATER IN IT."] [Illustration: _WHAT NEXT?_ THE LATEST IMPROVEMENT(?) IN GUARDS' CAPS.] [Illustration: _A LIKELY BAIT_. _Piscator_. "OHO! THIS IS THE PLACE WHERE THE BIG TROUT ARE, IS IT? THEN THIS IS THE SORT OF _FLY_, I THINK!"] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE DOING IT THOROUGHLY._ _Mrs. Buncher Greens._ "DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT GOING TO HEPSOM; IT AIN'T A FIT PLACE FOR FEMALES. GIVE ME HASCOT, IN YER OWN CARRIDGE." _Mr. B. G._ "WELL, I TELL YER WHAT IT IS, SARER--YOU MUST TRIM THE BARRER A BIT, OR YOU'LL NEVER BE IN TIME FOR THE CUP!"] [Illustration: _YET ANOTHER AMERICANISM._ "HERE, MARIA, HOLD MY CLOAK WHILE I HAVE A FLING WITH STRANGER!"] [Illustration: "_OH, THAT I WERE IN THAT BALCONY!_" WISH EXPRESSED BY LITTLE TOM TIT, AS HE WALKED IN THE TIGHTEST OF BOOTS, ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE STREET.] [Illustration] [Illustration: _TO BE PITIED._ _Youth._ "WHAT! NO SMOKING CARRIAGE! WHY, WHAT'S A FELLAH TO DO FOR THREE HOURS?"] [Illustration: _ACROSS COUNTRY._ _Papa._ "LUCY! HERE! HERE'S A GATE!" _Lucy._ "ALL RIGHT, PAPA, DEAR. YOU GO THROUGH THE GATE, I THINK 'CRUSADER' PREFERS THE FENCE."] [Illustration: _HOW TO CLEAR A CARRIAGE FOR A CIGAR._ _Ferocious Looking Passenger (to Old Gent, who objects to Smoking)._ "THAT'S A PRETTY KNIFE; AIN'T IT? THAT'S THE SORT O' THING WE USE IN CALIFORNIA! JOLLY THING TO STICK INTO A FELLOW, EH?" (OLD GENT _fears his Companion is not "quite right," and changes his Carriage at the next Station_.)] [Illustration: _SOME MORE FOREIGN VISITORS._ WHO CAN THEY BE? CAN THEY BE "MOSSOOS" GOING TO MAKE A PROMENADE TO RICHMOND!] [Illustration: _THE VERY THING._ _Dealer (to Nervous Rider)._ "QUIET! THERE NOW! HE'S A COB AS YOU MAY JUST CHUCK YER LEG OVER, AND SPRING A RATTLE, OR FIRE OFF PISTOLS BY THE HOUR TOGETHER, AND HE WON'T TAKE NO NOTICE!"] [Illustration: _HOLIDAYS AT HOME._ GRAND NURSERY STEEPLE-CHACE.--_Steward, Clerk of the Course, &c., &c._, MASTER TOM.] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE AN INDUCEMENT._ OUR FRIEND, GRIGGS, RECEIVES A PRESSING INVITATION TO COME OVER AGAIN TO IRELAND DURING THE HUNTING SEASON, AND HAVE A WEEK WITH THE GALWAY BLAZERS! (MR. B. _says he should like it extremely, as he has never ridden in a stone-wall country_.)] [Illustration: _DUST HO! THE LONG DRESS NUISANCE._ (WE CAN ASSURE THE DARLINGS IT BY NO MEANS IMPROVES THEIR DEAR LITTLE ANKLES.)] [Illustration: _THE VULPECIDE.--BASE INDEED!_ _Fox-Hunter._ "THERE, DO YOU SEE THAT FELLOW?--WELL! TO MY CERTAIN KNOWLEDGE, HE HAS DESTROYED TWO FOXES--AND YET HE WALKS ABOUT WITH A HYMN-BOOK UNDER HIS ARM!"] [Illustration: _A STEEPLE-CHACE STUDY._ _Ossy and very talkative Party (who is not going to ride, however)._ "CALL THAT A FENCE! WHY, ME AND MY LITTLE PONY WOULD 'OP OVER IT LIKE A BIRD!"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE RAILWAY DRAMA._ (_Passenger in Train, who naturally objects to having a nasty, odoriferous, useless pet dog in the carriage, suggests to the Guard that the animal should be put in the Van._) _Stupid Old Lady (dashing out of the carriage)._ "DID IT, THEN, A DARLING! A PRETTY SWEET!--DID IT GET INTO A CARRIAGE WITH A BREE-UTE?"] [Illustration: _A WATERING-PLACE PLEASURE._ THIS IS THE EIGHTEENTH OLD FISH-FAG WHO HAS SCREAMED AND SHRIEKED, BUT BY NO MEANS THE LAST WHO WILL SHRIEK AND SCREAM, UNDER POOR OLD MR. TOMKINS'S WINDOW.] [Illustration: _SOAP-BUBBLES!_] [Illustration: _ADVICE GRATIS._ _Young Hopeful (to Old Indian, whose digestion isn't first-rate)._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, UNCLE, I'D RECOMMEND YOU TO GO WITH ME ACROSS COUNTRY THREE TIMES A WEEK. IT WOULD SOON PUT YOU TO-RIGHTS!"] [Illustration: _A KNOWING ANIMAL._ "THE CHESTNUT HAS SURELY BOLTED, JOE?" "AY! AY! SIR, HE B'LONGED TO A COSSACK IN THE CRIMEA, AND THERE AIN'T NO HOLDING OF HIM WITH BRITISH CAVALRY IN HIS REAR."] [Illustration: _A MAN OF DISCRIMINATION._ _First Juvenile._ "MY WORD, FRED! ISN'T BESSIE TRAVERS A STUNNING GIRL?" _Second Ditto._ "WELL, FOR MY PART, I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT CHITS. NOW THE MOTHER'S A FINE WOMAN, IF YOU LIKE. SHE'S MORE IN MY WAY!"] [Illustration: _A VISIT TO THE STUDIO._ _Mr. Ochre (through whose frame a thrill of horror is supposed to be passing)._ "UGH! MIND WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT, CHARLEY. MIND MY OPHELIA; MIND MY OPHELIA! YOU'LL KNOCK HER OVER, AND SPOIL ALL HER FOLDS!"] [Illustration: _A PRETTY EXHIBITION NEAR BROMPTON._ THIS IS THE WAY THOSE POOR YOUNG SWELLS, HIPPS AND FIPPS, ARE OBLIGED TO GO OUT TO DINNER, IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE SCARCITY OF THE CABS.] [Illustration: _AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION._ _First Elegant Creature._ "A--DON'T YOU DANCE, CHARLES!" _Second Ditto, Ditto._ "A--NO--NOT AT PWESENT! I ALWAYS LET THE GIRLS LOOK AND LONG FOR ME FIRST!"] [Illustration: _A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK._ _Grandpapa._ "BLESS HIS HEART--JUST LIKE ME!--SPARE THE _NIM_ROD--SPOIL THE CHILD, I SAY."] [Illustration: _POOR COUSIN CHARLES!_ _Juvenile._ "WHY DO THEY CALL THOSE THINGS COUSIN CHARLES SMOKES CIGARETTES? EH, POLLY?" _Polly._ "WELL, DEAR; BECAUSE THEY ARE LITTLE CIGARS, I SUPPOSE!" _Juvenile._ "OH THEN, WOULD COUSIN CHARLES BE CALLED A CAPTAINETTE, BECAUSE HE'S A LITTLE CAPTAIN?" (JONES, _who is a Volunteer, but is six feet high, twirls his moustachios with mild complacency._)] [Illustration: _THE BALL._ HARRY BULLFINCHER, WHO IS EVER SO MUCH BETTER ACROSS COUNTRY THAN WHEN HE MIXES IN THE MERRY DANCE (ESPECIALLY AFTER SUPPER) HAS COME TO GRIEF OVER A STOOL DURING A POLKA, AND IS SHOUTING FOR SOME ONE TO "_CATCH HIS HORSE!_"] [Illustration: _THE PLEASURES OF THE COUNTRY._ _Enthusiastic Nimrod._ "THERE'S ANOTHER THING TOO ABOUT FOX-HUNTING WHICH I ALWAYS THINK DELIGHTFUL--YOU COME UPON SUCH PICTURESQUE NOOKS AND CORNERS. NOW, WHO WOULD EVER THINK OF COMING OUT HERE FOR A _MERE WALK_!"] [Illustration: _PREPARED FOR GAROTTERS._ GOING OUT TO TEA IN THE SUBURBS.--A PRETTY STATE OF THINGS.] [Illustration: _SNOOKS HAS JOINED A RIFLE CORPS._ _Snooks._ "SPLENDID CREECHUR--AIN'T HE? BLESS YOU, HE'S A PERFECT BROKE CHARGER. WAS IN THE HORSE GUARDS ONCE. YOU SHOULD SEE HIM IN HIS ACCOUTREMENTS. _GOES IN HARNESS TOO, I BELIEVE!_"] [Illustration: _FELLOW MARTYRS._ OLD MR. SQUEAMISH, WHO HAS BEEN ON DECK FOR HIS WRAPPER, FINDS HIS COMFORTABLE PLACE OCCUPIED BY A HAIRY MOSSOO!] [Illustration: _A SCHOOL FOR OLD GENTLEMEN._] [Illustration: _CRUEL JOKE AT A FÊTE._ _Horrid Boy (to his Cousin)._ "I SAY, ROSE! WASN'T THAT MAJOR DE VERE WHO JUST LEFT YOU?" _Rose._ "YES!" _Horrid Boy._ "AH, THEN, I THINK HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE TOLD YOU WHAT A TREMENDOUS BLACK SMUDGE YOU'VE GOT ON YOUR NOSE!" (_N.B.--Of course there is no smudge; but there's no looking-glass within miles for poor Rose to satisfy herself._)] [Illustration: _VIVE LE SPORT AGAIN!_ _Distinguished Foreigner (who does not comprehend why a frost should stop Hounds.)_ "AHA! NO HONT ZIS MORNING--MON DIEU!--ZEN ZERE IS NO _DOG'S MEET_ TO-DAY!"] [Illustration: _THE SENSATION NOVEL._ _Clara._ "YES, DEAR, I'VE GOT THE LAST ONE DOWN, AND IT'S PERFECTLY DELICIOUS. A MAN MARRIES HIS GRANDMOTHER--FOURTEEN PERSONS ARE POISONED BY A YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL GIRL--FORGERIES BY THE DOZEN--ROBBERIES, HANGINGS; IN FACT, FULL OF DELIGHTFUL HORRORS!"] [Illustration: _FIRST BEGINNINGS._] [Illustration: _TAKING IT MANFULLY._ _Keeper._ "STOP A BIT, MESTER REGINALD, AND I'LL LIFT ONE ON 'EM UP!" _Mester Reginald._ "NOW YOU JUST LET THEM ALONE, I'M COMING OVER!"] [Illustration: _RATHER KEEN._ "OUT AGAIN, JACK?" "YES! I ALWAYS LIKE TO GET AS MUCH HUNTING AS I CAN BEFORE CHRISTMAS--THE WEATHER IS SO NICE AND OPEN!"] [Illustration: _A FROLIC HOME AFTER A BLANK DAY._] [Illustration: _HOW WOULD IT BE WITHOUT CRINOLINE?--TRY IT._] [Illustration: _AFTER SUPPER.--STRANGE ADMISSION!_ _Mr. S._ "MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF WALTZING WITH YOU, MISS JONES?" _Miss J._ "I WOULD WITH PLEASURE, _BUT UNFORTUNATELY I'M QUITE FULL_!"] [Illustration: _PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN CURE._ _Old Lady._ "BUT, GOING IN FOUR-WHEEL CABS! I'M SO AFRAID OF SMALL-POX!" _Cabby._ "YOU'VE NO CALL TO BE AFEARED O' MY CAB, MUM, FOR I'VE 'AD THE HIND WHEEL WACCINATED, AND IT TOOK BEAUTIFUL."] [Illustration: _A FLUNKEY IN TROUBLE._ _John Thomas._ "HOLLO! COACHMAN! MR. BLINKERS! STOP! HERE'S A COSTERMONGER'S DONKEY GOT HOLD OF MY LEG, AND PULLING THE HAY OUT THAT I'VE PUT IN FOR CALVES!"] [Illustration: _ALL THE DIFFERENCE._ _Sporting Enthusiast (who has with difficulty caught the Hounds)._ "WHAT THE DEUCE ARE YOU HOLLOAING AT--DON'T YOU SEE IT'S A FRESH FOX?" _Whip._ "SHOULD THINK IT WAS; WE'VE BROKE UP T'OTHER THIS QUARTER OF AN HOUR!"] [Illustration: _LONDON HIGHLANDERS._ NOW WE DARE SAY YOU WONDER WHAT THE DEUCE THIS MEANS. THE FACT IS, THAT SMITH AND TOMKINS HAVE GOT A PLACE IN SCOTLAND THIS YEAR, AND THEY ARE DOING ALL THEY POSSIBLY CAN TO ACCUSTOM THEMSELVES TO DIZZY MOUNTAIN HEIGHTS, AND TO GET THEIR FACES AND LEGS THE PROPER TONE FOR THE NORTH.] [Illustration: _A HYGIENIC PLEASURE._ THE NEW AND DELIGHTFUL METHOD OF BRUSHING THE HAIR WITH MACHINERY.] [Illustration: _AFTER DUNDREARY._ _First Swell._ "A-A-WAW! WAW! WAW! HOW DID YOU LIKE HIM?" _Second Do._ "WAW-WAW-WAW.--NO FELLAW EVAW SAW SUCH A FELLAW. GWOSS CAWICATURE-WAW!"] [Illustration: _REAL INDEPENDENCE._ _Housemaid._ "JAMES! DON'T YOU HEAR YOUR LIBERY BELL A-RINGING?" _James._ "BOTHER THE LIBERY BELL! I AIN'T GOING TO ANSWER NO LIBERY BELLS--IT'S MY SUNDAY OUT, AND I'M AT CHURCH!"] [Illustration: _MAKING IT INTELLIGIBLE._ _Elderly Lady._ "BUT I MUST REALLY BEG THAT YOU WILL TELL ME YOUR FARE. I CANNOT BE SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOUR BUSINESS!" _Cabby._ "WELL, MUM--I DON'T THINK WE SHALL FALL HOUT. LET'S SAY, THREE BOB AND A KICK!"] [Illustration: _AT A RIFLE COMPETEE-TION IN THE NORTH._ _First Volunteer (to Second Volunteer on the Barrel)._ "MAY I TROUBLE YE TO MOVE FOR A BIT, FOR YE'RE JUST SITTING ON THE AMUNEE-TION!"] [Illustration: _FORCE OF HABIT.--(FOR FAMILY PEOPLE ONLY.)_ ADOLPHUS, GEORGE, AND LOUISA, ARE PLAYING IN KENSINGTON GARDENS--TO THEM THE FAMILY DOCTOR UNEXPECTEDLY. A. AND G. AND L. GO THROUGH THE EXPRESSIVE PANTOMIME OF PUTTING OUT THEIR TONGUES AS A MATTER OF COURSE.] [Illustration: _CUB-HUNTING._ WILKINSON WONDERS WHY THE DOOCE THEY CAN'T GO OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.] [Illustration: _AN INTERESTING QUESTION._ _Young Swell (who has just received promise of a Commission in a Highland Regiment)._ "NOW, GIRLS, WILL THE KILT SUIT MY CALVES?" _Sisters (tittering)._ "REALLY, DEAR, YOU ARE TOO ABSURD!"] [Illustration: _WHAT WE COULD BEAR A GOOD DEAL OF!_] [Illustration: _"LOVE'S COURSE NEVER DID," YOU KNOW._ IT WAS VERY UNPLEASANT! BUT WHAT JENKYNNES HAD TO SAY TO HIS FLORA, WAS SAID UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES.] [Illustration: _FLUNKEIANA._ _John Thomas Gorgeous._ "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, COOK! I'M A'MOST WORE OUT WITH THEM LEGS O' MUTTON AND LEGS O' PORK, AND I THINK IT'S 'IGH TIME SOME NEW HANIMAL WAS INWENTED!"] [Illustration: _JUMPING TO A CONCLUSION_ _Inquiring Youth._ "PLEASE, MAMMA, WHY IS UNCLE'S HORSE CALLED A COB?" _Mamma._ "OH, MY DEAR! BECAUSE--BECAUSE--WHY BECAUSE HE HAS A THICK BODY AND SHORT LEGS!" _Inquiring Youth._ "WHAT, LIKE YOU, MAMMA?"] [Illustration: _THE CHANNEL PASSAGE._ MOSSOO AS HE APPEARED WHEN VIEWED THROUGH A TELESCOPE.] [Illustration: _RAILLERY._ _Driver (of the Herring Mould, to Party inclining to embonpoint)._ "HOLLO, BILL! HOW MANY SACKS O' PERTATERS AND HOGSHEADS O' SUGAR 'AVE YER GOT THERE?"] [Illustration: _THE SUBURBAN FLYMAN._ _Maid._ "OH, COACHMAN! MISSUS SAY, YOU'RE TO COVER YOURSELF WITH THIS RUG, AND NOT TO MOVE OFF THE BOX; BECAUSE YOUR GAITERS AND LEGS AND THINGS ARE REALLY SO VERY SHOCKING."] [Illustration: _A DAY'S AMUSEMENT._ _Driving Lady (loq.)_ "OH, FRANK DEAR, ONLY FANCY, GEORGE HAS GOT SO TIPSY AT THE ARCHERY MEETING, THAT WE'VE BEEN OBLIGED TO PUT HIM INSIDE, AND DRIVE HOME OURSELVES--AND POOR CLARA HAS PINCHED HER FINGERS DREADFULLY PUTTING ON THE DRAG COMING DOWN BLUNSDEN HILL."] [Illustration: _AWFUL TALE OF AN EEL._] [Illustration: _A LITTLE SCENE AT BRUSSELS._ _T·mpk·ns (who has just come down to breakfast)._ "HERE! I SAY, GARSONG! I WANT A KELKCHOSE FOR DEJEWNAY! DER KORFEE, AND DES HOOFS, YOU KNOW!" (_N.B. The Stout Party T. pokes in the ribs is a wealthy Belgian Swell!_)] [Illustration: _FOR-RAD--FOR-RAD--AWAY!_ _Mr. Wuzzel (who the last time he weighed was Nineteen Stone, a sack of Guano, and a Barrowful of Bricks)._ "'FOR-RAD--AWAY!' OH, YES! THAT'S ALL VERY WELL--BUT NOT WITH THE COUNTRY(?) AS HEAVY AS THIS!"] [Illustration: _VERY MUCH AT SEA._] [Illustration: _FREAKS OF A PET DOG._ _Gardener (triumphantly)._ "THAT DOG'S BEEN AND GONE AND DONE IT NOW, MA'AM, I THINK!"] [Illustration: _A STREET FIGHT._ _Wife of his Bussum (to Vanquished Hero)._ "TERENCE, YE GREAT UMMADAWN, WHAT DO YER GIT INTO THIS THRUBBLE FOR?" _Vanquished Hero (to Wife of his Bussum)._ "D'YE CALL IT THRUBBLE, NOW? WHY, IT'S ENGYEMENT!"] [Illustration: _THE LOWEST DEPTH._ _Inebriated Snob (to party with paper lamp)._ "WHICH IS THE WAY--TO--TO--THE P--P--POSES PLASTIQUES? WHY, HALLO! IS THAT YOU, JIM? HOW THE DOOCE DID YOU COME TO THIS?" _Jim._ "WELL--ALL ALONG O' THEM NIGHT PUBLICS. AND HERE I AM--AN 'ILLUMINATED ADVERTISEMENT'!"] [Illustration: _LIKE UNTO LIKE._ _Bacon Fancier._ "THERE, NOW!--THAT'S MY STYLE!"] [Illustration: _BEAR-BAITING._] [Illustration: _A LITTLE BIT OF YORKSHIRE._ _Horse Critic._ "WELL, WILLIAM, THAT'S A NICE-LOOKING COLT, WHOSE IS IT?" _Horse Breaker._ "WELL, SIR, THAT DEPENDS UPON CIRCUMSTANCES." _Critic._ "HOW SO?" _Breaker._ "IF IT TURNS OUT WELL, IT BELONGS TO MR. B. (_the Steward_); BUT YOU KNOW, SIR _(with a sly look)_, IF IT TURNS OUT BAD, IT BELONGS TO MY LORD."] [Illustration: _ANXIOUS TO PRESERVE OUR FIGURE, WE TAKE A TURKISH BATH!_] [Illustration: _HOW TO BOTHER CABBY._ _Fare._ "HOW MUCH? NOW I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY! 'YOU'LL LEAVE IT TO ME,' BUT I WON'T HAVE IT. _I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU!_"] [Illustration: _SUPERFLUOUS ADVICE._ "DON'T CHECK HER, JACK; GIVE HER HER HEAD."] [Illustration: _A FURNITURE REMOVAL AGENCY._ THINGS HAVE COME TO A PRETTY PASS INDEED, WHEN A DRAWING-ROOM TABLE JUMPS UP, AND AFTER PLAYING A TUNE ON ITS ACCORDION, OFFERS ITS HAND TO THE HOUSEMAID!---- (NOW, WITHOUT ANY OF THE GAMMON OF PUTTING LIGHTS OUT, AND DARKENING THE ROOM, THIS REALLY DID HAPPEN IN BROAD DAYLIGHT--YOU NEEDN'T BELIEVE IT, OF COURSE, UNLESS YOU LIKE.)] [Illustration: _THE FANCY FAIR._ _Eleanor._ "YOU HAD BETTER BUY SOME OF MY CIGARS--COME, TAKE ONE!" _Young Swell._ "A--A--THANKS, NO--I NEVER SMOKE!" _Eleanor._ "WHAT! NOT IF I BITE OFF THE END?"] [Illustration: _AN AFFLICTED ONE._ JOHN CHINAMAN WEEPING OVER HIS TAIL.] [Illustration: _COUNTRY RACES.--AMATEUR PROFESSIONALS._ _Starter._ "YOU'D BETTER BE GOING, SIR; ITS A START!" _Gentleman Rider._ "OH, I'M ORDERED TO RIDE A WAITING RACE, AND I MAY AS WELL WAIT HERE AS ANYWHERE ELSE!"] [Illustration: _AN IDEA FOR A WET DAY._ HANG UP THE CRINOLINES, AND HAVE A GAME OF CROQUET IN THE DINING-ROOM.] [Illustration: _A STUDY OF CRINOLINE._ _Dreadful Boy._ "MY EYE, TOMMY, IF I CAN'T SEE THE OLD GAL'S LEGS THROUGH THE PEEP-HOLES!"] [Illustration: _MOST FLATTERING!_ _Miss Stout._ "YOU SEE, DEAR, I THOUGHT YOUR SWISS DRESS SO PRETTY, THAT I HAVE MADE ONE EXACTLY LIKE IT. WHY, WE SHALL BE TAKEN FOR SISTERS!"] [Illustration: _A HOT CHESTNUT IS VERY GOOD AFTER DINNER, BUT NOT JUST AS THE FOX BREAKS._ _Rough Rider._ "BY YER LEAVE, SIR! MY YOUNG HORSE RUSHES SO IF HE'S KEPT WAITING!"] [Illustration: _SCENE--THE ROW._ JEMIMER HANN IS STARING AT SOLDIER--YOUNG SPOFFINGTON IS BOWING TO GEORGINA MARTINGALE--PERAMBULATOR CHARGES THROUGH YOUNG S.'S LEGS.--SENSATION!] [Illustration: _THE DOG-DAYS!_ _1st Fancier._ "NOW ISN'T HE, GEORGIE!--FOR BREED AND SHAPE AND MAKE, THE MOST LOVELY LITTLE CREATURE?" _2nd Ditto._ "WELL, DEAR, HE CERTAINLY IS VERY HANDSOME, BUT TO MY TASTE MY LITTLE TREASURE PUGGY IS PERFECTION, AND SO AFFECTIONATE!" _3rd Ditto._ "DID THEY PRAISE THE OTHER DOGS?--LITTLE CHARLIE WAS A DARLING; HE WAS, HE WAS, HE WAS!!!"] [Illustration: _THE WIRE FENCE._ (_Dedicated to those Farmers and others in the Shires, who use that treacherous and unsportsmanlike contrivance._)] [Illustration: _A TABLE D'HÔTE AT PARIS._ _Attentive Swell (to elegant and fascinating American Young Lady, who has been monopolising the adjacent Gentlemen all through Dinner)._ "LET ME GIVE YOU SOME OF THIS" (_handing Article of Dessert_). _Belle Américaine._ "NO, THANKS!--WELL, THEN, A VERY LITTLE; FOR _I GUESS I'M PRETTY CROWDED NOW_." (_Horror of Swells; triumph of neighbouring Female British Contingent._)] [Illustration: _A FATUOUS FASHION._ TO SIT UPON A CHAIR, AND HAVE ONE'S HORSE HELD, IS NOW A VEWY FASHIONABLE WAY OF WIDING IN "WOTTON WOW."] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM, &c._--No. XVI. _Mary._ "DID YOU CALL, MUM?" _Lady._ "YES, MARY! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR YOUR HOOP BEFORE YOU HAD DONE YOUR ROOMS, BECAUSE YOU BROKE THE JUGS AND BASINS WITH IT!" _Mary._ "OH, MUM! YOU SEE THE _SWEEPS_ WERE COMING THIS MORNING, AND, REALLY, I COULD NOT THINK OF OPENING THE DOOR TO THEM SUCH A FIGGER AS I SHOULD HA' BEEN WITHOUT MY CRINOLINE!"] [Illustration: _BREAKING THE BYE-LAWS._ _Irritable Elderly Gentleman._ "HOLLO--HOY--CATCH THAT DOG! I'VE A COMPLAINT--WHERE'S THE STATION-MASTER?--UNDER THE BYE-LAWS--IT'S A DOG--HERE, I GIVE THIS MAN INTO CUSTODY."] [Illustration: _THE COOK'S MORNING SERVICE._] [Illustration: _STUDIES OF CRINOLINE DURING AN EQUINOCTIAL GALE._] [Illustration: _HERO WORSHIP._ THE "KNEE PLUSH ULTRA" OF SENTIMENT.] [Illustration: _A JOLLY GAME._] [Illustration: _A FOREIGN INFLICTION._--No. I. AT THE DOOR PATERFAMILIAS IS EXPOSTULATING WITH AN ORGAN-GRINDER, WHO IS DEFYING HIM WITH EXTREME INSOLENCE, ALTERNATED WITH PERFORMANCES ON THE INSTRUMENT OF TORTURE. POLICEMAN (UNSEEN) IS IN THE KITCHEN, CONSIDERING WHETHER SUSAN'S COOKING OR MARY'S SAVINGS' BANK MONEY WOULD BE THE BETTER INVESTMENT.] [Illustration: No. II. IN A BED-ROOM A MOTHER IS TENDING A SICK BOY, WHO IS SUFFERING FROM NERVOUS FEVER.] [Illustration: _PARTRIDGE SHOOTING._ _Keeper (who has never seen a breech-loader)._ "I DON'T THINK WERRY MUCH OF 'IM; WHY HE'S BEEN AND BROKE HIS GUN THE WERRY FUST SHOT!"] [Illustration: _RATHER OSSY._ _Dealer._ "THERE, SIR! HE'S A RARE TOPPED UN. WHY, WHAT A MANE AND TAIL HE'S GOT! HE'D MAKE A CHARGER, HE WOULD!" _Mr. Green._ "BUT AIN'T HIS LEGS A LITTLE TOO THIN FOR HIS BODY?" _Dealer._ "THIN FOR HIS BODY! BLESS YER! YOU COME TO HACK HIM ABOUT FOR A FEW DAYS, HIS LEGS 'LL _FILL OUT_ ENOUGH, THEY WILL!"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM IN AUSTRALIA.--A FACT._ _Domestic._ "IF YOU PLEASE, 'M, I HAVE AN HOUR TO SPARE, AND I'M A GOIN' TO TRY MY NEW 'ORSE!"] [Illustration: _A FANCY SCENE--WINNING THE GLOVES._ FROM THE GRAND PUGILISTIC BALLET OF THE FIGHT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP, WHICH MIGHT, COULD, SHOULD, AND OUGHT TO BE PLAYED AT ONE OF THE OPERAS.] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTARY._ _Farmer._ "MORNIN', MR. BLANK! NEVER SAW YOU GO SO WELL BEFORE." _Mr. Blank._ "WHY, WHAT DO YER MEAN? WE'VE NEVER FOUND A FOX!" _Farmer._ "AH! BUT I MEAN SO WELL FROM COVER TO COVER, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _PUTTING HIS FOOT IN IT._ MR. SPENCER POFFINGTON MAKES A MORNING CALL. HE WILL WEAR AN EYE-GLASS--AND SKIPS LIKE LORD DUNDREARY--AND COMES TO GRIEF OVER A CROQUET IRON, TAKING A HEADER INTO THE ARMS OF LADY HONORIA BOUNCER!] [Illustration: _SCENE ON A BRIDGE IN PARIS._ NOW, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MATTER HERE? WHY, ALPHONSE, IN A BOAT ON THE RIVER, HAS JUST CAUGHT A GOUJON ABOUT THE SIZE OF HIS LITTLE FINGER!] [Illustration: _TU QUOQUE._ _Human._ "HAH! YOU'D BE A NICE CUSTOMER TO MEET ON THE LOOSE, ANYWHERES AFTER DARK, YOU WOULD!"] [Illustration: _AT SCARBOROUGH._] [Illustration: _A SAGACIOUS CABBY._ "HANSOM, MISS! YES, MISS! CATTLE OR DOG SHOW?"] [Illustration: _READY WHEN WANTED OUR MILITIA VOLUNTEERS._] [Illustration: _IMPUDENCE._ _Old Gent._ "HOW MUCH?" _Hansom Cabman (boldly)._ "SIX SHILLINGS, SIR!" _Old Gent._ "WHAT! WHY HOW MANY MILES DO YOU CALL IT FROM TEMPLE BAR TO THE BANK?" _Cabman._ "OH! IF YOU WANT TO MAKE IT A MERE MERCAN-TILE TRANSACTION, YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR RIDE FOR NOTHING. ONLY DON'T GIT INTO AN ANSOM CAB AGAIN, THAT'S ALL." (_Old Gentleman is speechless with indignation and astonishment._)] [Illustration: _A DISTURBED IMAGINATION._ JONES, WHO CAN'T SLEEP WELL IN LONDON DURING THE HOT WEATHER, GOES TO HAVE A QUIET NIGHT IN A VILLAGE!! (_Portrait of one of the Village Cochins, &c._)] [Illustration: _WHAT OUR VOLUNTEERS OUGHT_ NOT _TO DO._ THEY OUGHT NOT, FOR ONE THING, TO STAGGER THROUGH QUIET STREETS, DRUMMING AND TRUMPETING LIKE SAVAGES, AT MIDNIGHT.] [Illustration: _DRAMATIC._ _First languid Swell._ "HAW! THEY'RE GOING ON STILL WITH THAT DUNDREARY!" _Second Ditto._ "AW----YA'AS! IT MUST BE A--A--A--A--VEWY HARD WORK FOR A FELLAH TO PERFORM SUCH A--A--CAWACTER EVEWY EVENING."] [Illustration: _RETURN FROM THE RACES--BOIS DE BOULOGNE._ _English Stable boy (to his Pal)._ "I SAY, JONES, ISN'T IT A PITY MOUNSEER HAS NOT GOT ANOTHER HAND FOR THE WHIP?"] [Illustration: _SPIRIT-RAPPING._ _Mr. Dunup._ "I KNOW THAT KNOCK! IT IS! IT MUST BE! YES, IT IS A CREDITOR!!"] [Illustration: _THE GRAND NATIONAL ROSE SHOW._] [Illustration: _THE BOX OF BOOKS FROM LONDON._ "NOW, CLARA--WHAT A SHAME! YOU ALWAYS TAKE THE PRETTY ONES!"] [Illustration: _RAILWAY GRIEVANCE._ DREADFUL OLD FEMALE, WHO, ALTHOUGH SHE WOULD BE HORRIFIED AT THE IDEA OF A CIGAR IN A CARRIAGE, SOLACES HERSELF BY CONSUMING NO END OF PEPPERMINT LOZENGES DURING HER JOURNEY.] [Illustration: _RETALIATION._ A CURE FOR THE BAWLING FISH-SELLERS AT WATERING-PLACES.] [Illustration: _THE SUBMISSIVE HUSBAND._] [Illustration: _A BROKEN COUNTRY._ _Jones (who has accepted a mount with the Harriers, because it is all galloping and no obstacles)._ "OH, YES, LET HIM COME! THAT'S ALL VERY WELL. WHY, IT'S LIKE THE SIDE OF A HOUSE."] [Illustration: _WHICH IS THE BRUTE?_ UPON ONE OF THESE CREATURES MR. RAREY'S METHOD CAN MAKE NO IMPRESSION.] [Illustration: _"WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE," ETC., ETC._] [Illustration: _THE MORAL OF IT._ _Infuriate Captain._ "YOU SCOUNDREL, I'LL HAVE YOU UP AS SURE AS YOU ARE BORN!" _Cabby._ "WHAT! SUMMONS ME! OH, NO, YOU WON'T, MY LORD.--YOU'LL NEVER TAKE THE TROUBLE." (_Exit_ CABBY _with three-and-sixpence over his fare._)] [Illustration: _CRINOLINE FOR DOMESTIC USE._ _Missus._ "MARY! GO AND TAKE OFF THAT THING DIRECTLY! PRAY, ARE YOU AWARE WHAT A RIDICULOUS OBJECT YOU ARE?"] [Illustration: _BADLY HIT DURING THE RECENT ENGAGEMENT WITH THE GUARDS._ _Mamma._ "YES, DOCTOR. SHE WILL SIT FOR HOURS WITHOUT SPEAKING A WORD. SHE PERSISTS IN WEARING THE SAME DRESS, AND WON'T PART WITH THE BOUQUET!" _Doctor._ "H'M--WELL, LET'S SEE, WE MUST FIRST GET _THE BALL OUT OF HER HEAD_, AND THEN PERHAPS THE NERVOUS SYSTEM MAY RIGHT ITSELF!"] [Illustration: _A SPIRIT DRAWING. BY OUR OWN MEDIUM._] [Illustration: _SKETCHES AT BRIGHTON._] [Illustration: _BRIGHTON JEWELS._] [Illustration: _A BIT OF HOUSEHOLD STUFF._ _Second Life Guardsman._ "LOR, JEMIMER, WHY WE ARE OUR OWN MASTERS, AND NEVER SHOW NO RESPECT TO NOBODY!" _Jemimer._ "THEN I SUPPOSE YOU'VE SEEN A DEAL OF BATTLES THAT MAKES YOU SO PROUD!"] [Illustration: _A HINT TO THE "ENGAGED ONES" OF ENGLAND._ _Alice (to Rodolph, or rather, we should say, Jones)._ "NOW MIND, SIR! YOU ARE A VOLUNTEER RIFLEMAN, AND IT ENTIRELY DEPENDS UPON YOUR ATTENTION TO DRILL, WHETHER I GIVE YOU THAT LOCK OF HAIR, OR NOT!"] [Illustration: _VERY CONSIDERATE._ _Mamma (coming down the steps)._ "WHY, CORNBYN! WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS? MISS ALICE PERCHED ON HER PAPA'S BIG HORSE, AND THE PONY BROUGHT FOR ME!" _Cornbyn._ "YES, MA'AM! YOU SEE, MA'AM, MISS ALICE SAID AS YOU WAS RATHER NERVOUS, AND SHE THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD GET ON BETTER WITH TOM TIT."] [Illustration: _RECREATION FOR THE HORSE GUARDS._ AND HOW MUCH BETTER THAN IDLING IN A PUBLIC-HOUSE, OR FLIRTING WITH MAID SERVANTS.] [Illustration: _ATTEMPTED FRAUD ON THE RAILWAY._ _Boy (about fourteen)._ "HALF TO BRIGHTON." _Clerk._ "ARE YOU ABOVE THIRTEEN?" _Boy._ "NO. ONLY TWELVE LAST----" _Clerk (interrupting)._ "THEN YOU ARE WHOLE PRICE!" (_Sold._)] [Illustration: _THE PLEASURES OF THE SEA._] [Illustration: _THE RIVAL BARRELS._ THREE CHEERS FOR BASS AND HIS BARREL OF BEER, AND OUT WITH THE FOREIGN RUFFIAN AND HIS BARREL-ORGAN!] [Illustration: _HOW NOT TO DO IT._--No. I. THESE ARE THE LITTLE CHILDREN WHO CONVERT THE PARK RAILINGS INTO GYMNASTIC POLES. TO THE CONSTERNATION OF VOKINS'S HORSE!----] [Illustration: No. II. AND THIS IS ONE OF THE HYDE PARK KEEPERS HAVING HIS CARTE DE VISITE TAKEN. (MORAL. _Would it not be better if the Park Keeper attended to his duties a little?_)] [Illustration: _THE BITER BIT._ _First Cabby._ "I'M WAITIN' FOR THE MEEGER, YOUR HONOR!" _Second Ditto (in an audible whisper)._ "B'LIEVE ME, 'TIS THE GINERAL, AND I'M HIS KYAR." _Green (?) Ensign._ "AW--BORE THAT--CAN'T TAKE ME, I SUPPOSE? I'M ONLY A CAPTAIN." (_Hibernians decidedly sold._)] [Illustration: _THE GREAT EXHIBITION._ _Sarah Jane._ "LAWKS! WHY, IT'S HEXACT LIKE OUR HEMMER!"] [Illustration: _A DAY AT BIARRITZ._] [Illustration: _IN SEARCH OF EXCITEMENT._ TRYING THE TOP OF THE MONUMENT ON A WET AFTERNOON.] [Illustration: _THE BLACK DIAMOND--THE REAL MOUNTAIN OF LIGHT!!_] [Illustration: _THE SPORTIVE ELEMENTS._ FOR DOWNRIGHT HEALTHY EXCITEMENT, WE RECOMMEND A DAY'S HUNTING IN A GALE OF WIND.] [Illustration: _DOING A LITTLE BUSINESS._ _Old Equestrian._ "WELL BUT--YOU'RE NOT THE BOY I LEFT MY HORSE WITH!" _Boy._ "NO, SIR, I JIST SPEKILATED, AND BOUGHT 'IM OF T'OTHER BOY FOR A HARPENNY?"] [Illustration: _THE NEW RIDE. FRIGHTFUL SCENE IN KENSINGTON GARDENS!_ SHALL OUR PRIVACY BE INVADED? SHALL OUR CHILDREN BE RIDDEN DOWN BY A BLOODTHIRSTY AND A BLOATED ARISTOCRACY? ARE OUR WIVES, DAUGHTERS, AND DOMESTICS TO BE TORN TO PIECES BY FEROCIOUS MASTIFFS? NEVER! UP THEN! MARROWBONES TO THE RESCUE!] [Illustration: _THE MORNING RIDE._ A NICE SENSATION FOR BRIGHTON.--POP OVER THE RAILS AND HAVE A GALLOP ON THE RACECOURSE.] [Illustration: _IN GOOD SOCIETY._ ARRIVAL OF THOSE DISTINGUISHED "LIONS," THE HIPPOPOTAMUS, AND THE GREAT TORTOISE.] [Illustration: _WHAT WE WANT TO KNOW._ WE WANT TO KNOW WHY THE AUTHORITIES AT BRIGHTON, SO SENSIBLE AND CONSIDERATE IN KEEPING THE PLACE FREE FROM THE DETESTABLE ORGAN-GRINDERS, SHOULD PERMIT THE TERRIBLE NUISANCES INDICATED ABOVE? FRESH PRAWNS, WHITING, OYSTERS, OR WATER-CRESS, ARE CAPITAL THINGS IN THEIR WAY, AND WE SHOULD THINK THAT THE JADED MAN OF OCCUPATION, OR THE INVALID, WOULD VERY MUCH RATHER SEND TO A RESPECTABLE SHOP FOR SUCH DELICACIES, THAN HAVE THEM "BELLOWED" INTO HIS EARS MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT.] [Illustration: _NOT A DOUBTFUL RACE._ THE RAILWAY ENGINE AND THE FOXHUNTER--WHAT IT MUST COME TO.] [Illustration: _SHOEBURYNESS._ _Captain Limber, R.A._ "HAVING PLACED OUR BURSTER AND PREPARED OUR PERCUSSION FUSE, WHICH, YOU REMEMBER, EXPLODES BY THE SIMPLE FALL OF THE NEEDLE--WE PROCEED TO * * * *." (PROFESSOR DABBLES _quite sees that the Artillery is a Service of itself, and having an appointment at the Megatherium, hurries off by the train._)] [Illustration: _SHOCKING INCIDENT IN REAL LIFE._ _Enter Bachelor Brother (who has come from a long day of business)._ "THAT CONFOUNDED ORGAN, AGAIN! ALTHOUGH I TOLD HIM TO GO! BUT--PHEW!!--MY DEAR REBECCA, WHAT DREADFUL ODOUR IS THIS IN THE ROOM?" (_The truth is, Rebecca has had the Grinding Ruffian to sketch from._)] [Illustration: _A DAY WITH THE STAG._--No. I. TOM NODDY DOESN'T TAKE HIS OWN HORSE WITH HIM, AS HE THINKS IT IS BETTER TO HIRE A HORSE ACCUSTOMED TO THE COUNTRY. THE GROOM ASSURES HIM THAT HE COULDN'T BE BETTER MOUNTED, FOR THE HORSE IS VERY FAST, WITH TRE_MEN_DJUS JUMPING POWER. No. II. * * * IT IS A BEAUTIFUL FIND, AND T. N. GETS WELL AWAY WITH THE HOUNDS. THE FIRST FIELD IS A LARGE PASTURE, AND HE AND HIS HORSE AGREE WONDERFULLY. OUR LITTLE FRIEND THINKS THERE IS NOTHING LIKE A GRASS COUNTRY--UNTIL HE COMES. No. III. TO THIS PRETTY THING--OVER WHICH HE AND THE HORSE (WITH TRE_MEN_DJUS JUMPING POWER) GO, AND ENTER THE NEXT FIELD IN. No. IV. THE FOLLOWING ORDER:--T. N. 1 HIS HORSE 2] [Illustration: _A PLEASANT PROSPECT._ _Little T. N._ "SHALL YOU TAKE A SINGLE, OR RETURN?" _Friend._ "WELL, I SHALL TAKE A RETURN, BECAUSE I KNOW THE HORSE I'M GOING TO RIDE,--BUT YOU'D BETTER TAKE A SINGLE AND AN INSURANCE TICKET!"] [Illustration: _OUTRAGE UPON A GALLANT TURK._] [Illustration: _THE GREAT BONNET QUESTION._] [Illustration: _SUCCESSFUL ANGLING._] [Illustration: _THE LADIES' LAP-DOG SHOW._] [Illustration: _A COCKNEY AT DIEPPE._] [Illustration: _THE ORGAN-GRINDING NUISANCE._--No. I. _Old Lady (l)._ "BOTHER OVER THE WAY! WE LIKE THE HORGINS!]" [Illustration: No. II. OVER THE WAY--THE INVALID.] [Illustration: _OUT OF HIS ELEMENT._ THAT AWFUL SWELL PERCY DE GOSLING FINDS HIMSELF BY ACCIDENT AT BRIGHTON ON WHIT-MONDAY. HIS NERVES HAVE BEEN TERRIBLY SHOCKED. ALREADY HE HAS BEEN ASKED IF HE WANTED ANY TEA-ACCOMMODATION; AND NOW A BOATMAN REQUESTS HIM TO "JINE THIS PARTY, AND MAKE UP THE 'ARF DOZEN FOR A ROW."] [Illustration: _LE SPORT._ HOORAY! MOSSOO GOES TO THE DERBY, AND IN HIS FAVOURITE COSTUME OF "BRITISH SPORTMAN!"] [Illustration: _AN OLD FRIEND._ OH DEAR NO! OLD BR--GGS IS _NOT_ DEAD--HE HAS TAKEN TO YACHTING FOR THE BENEFIT OF HIS HEALTH.] [Illustration: _A JUNIOR COUNSEL._] [Illustration: _A FAMILY BOX AT THE THEATRE._] MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE-TAMING EXPERIENCES. [Illustration: No. I. OUR FRIEND B. GOES WITH A PARTY TO SEE THE MECHANICAL HORSE. HE OF COURSE TRIES ITS POWERS. FIRST, THE SLOW AND GENTLE MOVEMENT!----] [Illustration: _DE GUSTIBUS, &c., &c._ FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE NOBLE LORD WHO FINDS ORGAN-GRINDING AN "AGREEABLE RELIEF."] MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE-TAMING EXPERIENCES. [Illustration: No. II. AND THEN THE QUICK AND STRONG!] [Illustration: _THE FINANCIAL QUESTION._ HORROR OF JOHN THOMAS ON FINDING THAT UPPER SERVANTS ARE TO PAY THE INCOME TAX.] [Illustration: _THE DINNER-BELL._] MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE-TAMING EXPERIENCES. [Illustration: No. III. OUR DEAR OLD FRIEND BR--GGS, WHO HAS BECOME VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT THE HORSE HE RIDES, PURCHASES ONE OF THOSE EXTRAORDINARY COBS, UP TO WEIGHT, WARRANTED NEVER TO TRIP NOR SHY, AND WHICH ARE SO INVALUABLE TO AN ELDERLY OR A TIMID RIDER! THE ANIMAL HAS, HOWEVER, AMONGST A FEW OTHER PLAYFUL PECULIARITIES, A HABIT OF TRYING TO JAM HIS RIDER'S LEG AGAINST THE WALL, TO SAY NOTHING OF WALKING ABOUT ON HIS HIND LEGS, AS IF HE WERE A BIPED! (_Tableau. Mr. B. as he appeared on the pavement._)] [Illustration: _A ONE-SIDED VIEW._ _Sailor (confidentially)._ "I SAY, JACK, ISN'T IT QUITE MELANCHOLY TO SEE THEM POOR FELLOWS DRESSED UP LIKE THAT 'ERE?"] MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE-TAMING EXPERIENCES. [Illustration: No. IV. TO SHOW WHAT PERFECT CONTROL HE HAS OVER HIS ANIMAL, HE SEATS HIMSELF ON ITS BACK WITH HIS FACE TO ITS TAIL, AND--SUDDENLY OPENS AN UMBRELLA.] [Illustration: _A BRILLIANT SUGGESTION, PRESENTED GRATIS TO THE HORSE GUARDS BY MR. PUNCH._] [Illustration: _THE MALVERN HILLS._] [Illustration: _JOHN BULL À LA FRANÇAISE._] [Illustration: _HURRAH!_ THE VOLUNTEER MOVEMENT--CHAIRING THE BEST SHOT IN ENGLAND.] [Illustration: FAREWELL.] LONDON BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. INDEX. YEAR PAGE ABUSE of the Aspirate, The 1863 21 Accepting a Situation 1856 40 Across Country 1864 181 Advice Gratis 1863 187 After Dundreary 1862 201 After Supper--Strange Admission 1861 198 All the Difference 1863 199 Ambition 1863 39 An Afflicted One 1853 214 An Idea for a Wet Day 1863 215 An Interesting Question 1859 204 An Old Friend 1853 257 Ancient Britons, The 1861 1 Another Pretty Little Americanism 1864 167 Anxious Inquirers 1863 143 Anxious to Preserve our Figure, we take a Turkish Bath 1861 212 Aquatics--When the Bees are Swarming 1858 59 Aristocratic Hotel Company, The 1863 41-4 Art Treasures 1860 119 At a Rifle Competee-tion in the North 1863 202 At Dieppe 1862 118 Attempted Fraud on the Railway 1863 241 Awful Apparition 1861 171 Awful Tale of an Eel 1858 208 Awkward for Papa 1863 22 BADLY Hit During the Recent Engagement with the Guards 1863 236 Ball, The 1862 191 Battue, The 1862 125 Beach, The--A Sketch for Warm Weather 1862 161-4 Bear Baiting 1862 211 Benevolence 1860 61 Beware of Artillery Whiskers 1861 11 Billiards 1864 169 Bit of Household Stuff, A 1862 238 Biter Bit, The 1864 243 Black Diamond, The--The Real Mountain of Light 1851 246 Bores of the Beach, The 1860 101 Bouncer, A 1860 94 Board and Lodging 1864 64 Bois de Boulogne--For Cavaliers only 1863 118 Box of Books from London, The 1856 233 Breaking the Bye-Laws 1852 220 Brighton Jewels 1860 237 Brilliant Suggestion, A, Presented gratis to the Horse Guards by Mr. Punch 1858 261 Broken Country, A 1864 234 Brook Jump, The 1863 145 By the Fast Train, 1861 115 By your Leave, 1859 49 CABMAN GUIDE, The, 1861 52 Canine, 1863 48 Capillary Attractions, 1858 35 Capital Finish, A, 1860 156 Carte de Visite, The, 1862 157 Cause and Effect, 1864 57 Caution to the Unwary, A, 1859 14 Chaff, 1862 103 Chamber Practice, 1860 129 Chance for Jeames, A, 1860 53 Channel Passage, The, 1862 206 Chip of the Old Block, A, 1862 190 Christening of Jones's First, The, 1863 142 Clerical Beard Movement, The, 1861 49 Cockney at Dieppe, A, 1851 254 Coincidence, A, 1860 32 Collar Mania, The, 1854 64 Comfortable Quarters, 1859 152 Comforter, A, 1862 19 Complimentary, 1864 225 Complimentary to Paterfamilias, 1860 16 Confirmed Bachelor, 1861 159 Connoisseur, A, 1859 135 Considerate Attention, 1860 26 Consolation, 1859 94 Consolation, 1861 130 Consoling from Consols, 1862 96 Consummation devoutly to be wished, A, 1862 21 Contemplative Man's Recreation, The, 1860 137 Contented Mind, A, 1860 138 Cook's Morning Service, The, 1863 220 Costermonger as he is, and as he might be, The, 1863 167 Country Races--Amateur Professionals, 1855 215 Courtesies of Travel, The, 1859 123 Cricket--The Pride of the Village, 1863 58 Crinoline for Domestic use, 1862 132 Crinoline for Domestic use, 1862 235 Croquet, 1863 106 Crossing-Sweeper Nuisance, The, 1856 8 Cruel, 1861 4 Cruel Joke at a Fête, 1859 193 Cub-Hunting, 1862 203 Curious Echo at a Railway Station, 1861 127 Curious effect of Relaxing Air, 1849 104 DABBLING, 1861 24 Darlings, The, come out to see the 38th Othersex Volunteers Drilled, 1861 2 Day at Biarritz, A 1863 244-5 Day with the Stag, A 1856 252 Day's Amusement, A 1864 208 Day's Pleasure, A 1860 25 Deal, A 1863 152 Debate on the New Ministry 1858 88 Decidedly 1860 166 De Gustibus, &c. 1858 258 Delicate Hint, A 1863 13 Delicious 1862 136 Difference in Opinion, A 1863 12 Difficult Task, A 1850 127 Dignity and Impudence 1861 60 Dignity and Impudence 1858 150 Dignity of Age, The 1856 15 Diner à la Russe 1862 126 Dining under Difficulties 1861 3 Dinner-Bell, The 1849 259 Dip in French Waters, A 1862 68 Dissenters in the University 1855 127 District Telegraph, The 1863 23 Disturbed Imagination, A 1859 230 Diving Belles 1862 118 Dog-days, The 1864 218 Doing a little Business 1864 247 Doosed aggravating for Cornet Flinders 1863 55 Doubtful Compliment, A 1862 126 Dramatic 1863 231 Drawing Room, A 1858 127 Drawing Room, The 1863 14 Dried Up 1859 86 Duet under Difficulties, A 1863 176 Dust Ho! The Long Dress Nuisance 1863 184 EFFECT of Sixpence a Mile 1857 157 Effect of Stopping the Grog 1849 154 Effects of the Weather on a Sensitive Plant 1861 172 Emphatic 1861 4 End of a Friend of the Family 1862 116 Engaged Ones, The 1847 168 English Darlings reflected in a French Mirror 1862 98 English Gold Field, An 1854 36 English Soldiers according to French Notions 1860 98 Escort, An 1862 148 Excess of Cleanliness, An 1860 28 Exhausted Student, The 1862 65 Express 1864 66 Experiment on a Vile Body, An 1859 29 Extravagance 1858 29 FACETIOUS Inference, A 1861 7 Fact, A 1860 18 Fact, A 1860 153 False Alarm, surely! 1861 52 Family Box at the Theatre, A 1857 257 Fancy Fair, The 1864 214 Fancy Scene, A--Winning the Gloves 1860 224 Fancy Sketch 1860 31 Farewell 1856 264 Fashion for next Summer, The 1860 139 Fashions in Hair 1862 107 Fatuous Fashion, A 1858 219 Fellow Martyrs 1864 193 Feminine Rivalry 1864 175 Financial Difficulty, A 1861 11 Financial Question, The 1862 259 Fine Polish, A 1852 96 First Beginnings 1863 194 First Day of the Season 1861 35 First of September 1852 70 Fitting Hospitality 1863 176 Flagrant Attempt, A 1862 177 Flattering Proposal 1860 155 Flunkeiana 1848 104 Flunkeiana 1864 205 Flunkey in Trouble, A 1864 199 Fly-Fishing 1863 170 Fond Delusion 1860 111 Force of Habit 1864 146 Force of Habit (for Family People only) 1861 203 Foreign Infliction, A 1859 222 For-rad,--For-rad--Away! 1861 209 Freaks of a Pet Dog 1852 210 Freshener on the Downs, A 1857 120 Friendly Offer, A 1859 71 Friendly Prescription 1856 21 Frivolity 1858 99 Frolic Home after a Blank Day, A 1859 196 Furniture Removal Agency, A 1860 214 GALE, The 1862 73 Garotte Effect, A 1863 119 Generous Offer 1860 45 Gent at Cost Price, A 1856 155 Geographical Joke, A 1855 143 Going North 1862 81 Going Out of Town 1860 16 Going through the Alphabet 1860 166 Going to Court 1863 144 Going to Cover 1861 124 Gold Field in the "Diggins," A 1854 37 Gone Away! 1861 30 Good Blacking 1853 102 Gordian Knot for Robinson, A 1862 17 Grand National Rose Show 1858 232 Great Bonnet Question, The 1857 254 Great Exhibition 1862 243 Great Whisker Cutting Movement, The 1861 116 Grievance, A 1863 141 Ground Swell, A 1861 28 Groundless Alarm 1861 170 Groundless Alarm 1862 142 Guardian of the Field, The 1855 111 HAIR Dressing Nowadays 1864 175 Harry takes his Cousins to see the Hounds Meet 1862 145 Haymarket and Thereabout, The 1862 88 Healthy and Amusing Game 1860 45 Held in Cheek 1858 33 Helping Him On 1861 61 Hero Worship 1850 221 Hill at Epsom, The 1861 72 Hint to the Engaged Ones of England, A 1859 239 Hint to Travellers 1860 48 History--The Ancient Britons 1861 1 Holidays at Home 1860 183 Honour to the Brave 1855 114 Hopeful Prospect, A 1863 10 Horrid Girl 1861 144 Horse Dealer's Logic, A 1863 140 Hot Chestnut, A, is very Good after Dinner, but not just as the Fox breaks 1862 217 Household Economy 1861 138 How Not to Do It 1863 242 How to Bother Cabby 1863 213 How to Clear a Carriage for a Cigar 1864 182 How to Make a Watering Place Pleasant 1861 24 How Would it be Without Crinoline? 1864 197 Humour of the Streets, The 1860 90 Humour of the Streets, The 1861 139 Hunting from Town 1862 147 Hurrah! 1860 263 Hush! Hush! 1863 122 Hygienic Pleasure, A 1863 200 IDLE Servant, The 1863 99 Immense Treat for the Party Concerned 1861 102 Important Matter 1860 149 Impostor, An 1863 150 Improving the Time 1857 141 Impudence 1849 230 In Barracks 1860 94 Incident of Travel, An 1859 88 Incident of Travel, An 1864 158 Influence of the Railway on the Rhine 1864 173 In Good Society 1851 249 Injured Brother, An 1861 15 In Search of Excitement 1850 246 "In the Bay of Biscay, O!" 1862 115 Innocent Delusions 1863 139 Inquiring Mind, An 1861 45 In Search of a Victim 1860 11 In State 1844 146 In the Volunteers 1862 25 Invalid, The 1860 103 Irresistible 1860 99 It is Safer to go with your Animal 1862 147 JOHN Bull à la Française 1855 262 John Tomkins and 'Arry Bloater 1862 68 Jolly Anglers 1864 125 Jolly Game, A 1857 221 Jumping to a Conclusion 1864 206 Junior Counsel, A 1848 257 KNOWING Animal, A 1857 187 LADIES' Lap Dog Show, The 1862 254 Lady Audley's Secret 1863 9 Accepting a Situation 1856 40 La Mode 1860 154 La Mode--The Zouave Jacket 1860 56 Last Day at the Seaside, The--Packing Up 1861 27 Last New Thing in Cloaks, The 1859 107 Last Sweet Thing in Hats, The 1859 28 Late from the Nursery 1860 96 Late from the School-room 1860 12 Latest Fashion, The 1857 111 Latest Fast Thing, The 1863 39 Latest Improvement, The 1856 69 Latest from Abroad--Powder and all the Rest of it 1862 48 Latest Style, The 1856 106 Legal Solfeggio, The 1846 116 Le Sport 1862 256 Lesson, The 1862 2 Lesson in French, A 1855 86 Like unto Like 1862 211 Likely Bait, A 1860 178 Likely Case, A 1855 50 Linguist, The 1863 65 Little Bit of Yorkshire, A 1864 212 Little Family Breeze, A 1864 173 Little Farce at a Railway Station, A 1859 63 Little Railway Drama, A 1863 186 Little Rowlands' Macassar Wanted Somewhere, A 1863 99 Little Scene at Brussels, A 1864 209 Little Smoke-Jack, A 1863 131 London Cream 1864 146 London Highlanders 1861 200 Looking at it Pleasantly 1864 123 "Love's Course Never Did" You Know 1864 205 Loving Cup, A 1858 104 Lowest Depth, The 1864 211 Lucid Explanation, A 1852 63 MAKING it Intelligible 1864 202 Making the Best of It 1858 7 Malvern Hills, The 1864 262 Man of Discrimination, A 1863 188 Man of Ideas, A 1861 174 Man's Rooms at the Temple, A 1863 106 Marriage Question, The 1858 47 Master and Man--A Pretty State of Things 1861 64 Matter of Opinion, A 1862 71 Medium, A 1861 79 Mere Trifle, A 1862 134 Mermaid, A 1854 58 Militia Man, A 1854 76 Mistaking a Title 1860 65 Moral of it, The 1862 235 Morning Ride, The 1863 248 Mossoo Learning to Swim 1862 118 Most Flattering 1861 216 Most Offensive 1859 21 Mr. Briggs's Adventures in the Highlands 1861 81, 83, 85, 87, 89, 91, 93, 95, 97 Mr. Briggs's Horse Taming Experiences 1863 258, 261 Mrs. J. has the Best of It 1860 55 Muscular Education--The Private Tutor 1860 110 NATURAL Impatience 1860 46 Nature when Unadorned, &c. 1861 54 New Leathers, too! 1861 31 New Ride, The, Frightful Scene in Kensington Gardens 1860 247 New School, The 1862 136 Nice Game for Two or More, A 1861 110 Nice Little Dinner, The 1853 63 Nightmare, A 1862 150 No Doubt of It 1860 73 Not a bad Judge 1859 101 Not a doubtful Race 1845 250 Nothing like doing it Thoroughly 1864 179 Nothing like Mountain Air 1860 47 Not so bad as he seems 1860 159 Not so Easy 1853 160 Not such a bad Thing in a Shower 1860 57 Novel Suggestion 1863 78 Now I'm Papa 1860 108 No. 999 Government Transport 1855 114 OBJECT of Attraction, An 1860 189 Ocular Demonstration 1857 157 Office Incident, An 1863 124 Old School 1862 23 On Duty 1844 134 Oh, how Jolly! 1859 101 Oh, that I were in that Balcony! 1864 180 On a Parisian Boulevard 1861 109 One Night from Home 1861 6 One of the Right Sort 1860 34 One-sided View, A 1846 260 On the Racecourse 1852 109 On the Sands 1860 74 On the Way to Parade 1860 68 On the Way to the Park 1855 34 Opportunity, An 1862 128 Opposite Opinions 1859 56 Order we hope to see issued, An 1861 156 Organ Grinding Nuisance, The 1864 255 Our Foreign Visitors 1861 156 Our Indolent Young Man 1859 79 Our National Defences 1860 102 Our Volunteers 1860 19 Out of his Element 1862 256 Outrage upon a Gallant Turk 1856 253 Oysters 1864 140 PAINFUL Subject, A 1861 121 Partridge Shooting 1860 97 Partridge Shooting 1863 223 Persuasive 1863 60 Pet-Love 1862 149 Philosophy in Sport 1859 171 Photograph, The 1861 132 Picked up from the Beach 1863 59 Picture for the Intemperate, A 1860 72 Pious Public-House, The 1855 112 Pitiable Objects 1862 53 Pheasant Shooting, A Warm Corner 1858 117 Pleasant 1863 148 Pleasant Intelligence 1863 76 Pleasant Prospect, A 1864 253 Pleasures of the Country, The 1863 191 Pleasures of the Sea, The 1857 241 Pleasures of Vegetarianism 1852 86 Pluck! 1863 104 Polite Attention 1861 22 Politeness 1860 72 Political Prospects 1859 20 Poor Cousin Charles 1864 190 Poor Fellow 1863 108 Poor Little Fellow 1861 33 Portrait, The,--Finishing Touch to the Dress 1862 74 Portrait of a certain Student who is Reading so hard at the Seaside 1861 26 Poser, A 1861 3 Posing a Customer 1861 84 Positive Fact, of Course 1862 13 Practising for a Match 1862 174 Practising on a Patient 1858 124 Preliminary Canter, A 1862 168 Prepared for Garotters 1863 192 Prevention is Better than Cure 1863 198 Pretty Exhibition near Brompton, A 1862 189 Private Theatricals--The Moustaches 1860 66 Probability, A--"Hold your Zebra, Sir?" 1858 70 Problem for Young Ladies, A 1862 32 Professional 1859 5 Profligate Pastrycook's, The 1855 113 Progress of Civilization 1854 178 Proper Precaution, A 1862 31 Prudence 1862 121 Prudential Assurance 1859 75 Putting his Foot in it 1864 225 Putting it Blandly 1863 109 Putting Principle into Practice 1861 58 QUIET Rebuke, A 1864 137 Quip Modest, The 1862 122 Quite Exhausted 1856 140 RACE for a Fare, A 1859 107 Raillery 1864 207 Railway Grievance 1864 233 Railway Morals 1864 141 Rather a Kitcheny way of Putting it 1863 143 Rather a Knowing Thing in Nets 1860 46 Rather Keen 1859 195 Rather 'Ossy 1863 223 Rather Vulgar, but Perfectly True 1862 51 Ready when Wanted, or Militia Volunteers 1854 228-9 Real Enjoyment 1861 76 Real Independence 1863 201 Real Tragedy 1864 134 Real Treasure, A 1859 1 Recreation for the Horse Guards 1851 240 Relaxation 1861 23 Repose 1862 77 Resources of the Establishment 1860 50 Retaliation 1864 233 Return from the Races--Bois de Boulogne 1864 232 Riding-hat Question, The 1861 100 Rival Barrels, The 1864 241 SAGACIOUS Cabby, A 1862 227 Salmon Fishing 1863 133 Scarborough, At 1862 227 Scene--A Certain gay Watering Place 1859 69 Scene at Sandbath 1861 80 Scene in a Modern Studio 1856 29 Scene on a Bridge at Paris 1863 226 Scene--The Row 1863 217 School for Old Gentlemen, A 1858 193 Sea-fishing 1863 5 Sea-side Studies 1860 25 Sea-side Subject, A, Jolly for the Party in Search of Repose 1862 54 Secular Pursuit, A 1857 92 Self Importance 1861 11 Sensation Ball, The 1862 88 Sensation Novel, The 1864 194 Serious Complaint, A 1855 155 Serious Drawback, A 1861 9 Servantgalism, No. XIII. 1863 10 Servantgalism, No. XIV. 1860 128 Servantgalism, No. XV. 1864 169 Servantgalism, &c., No. XVI. 1863 220 Servantgalism in Australia--A Fact 1864 224 Severe 1860 12 Serving Him Out 1862 84 Shocking Incident in Real Life 1864 251 Shocking Young Lady Indeed, A 1860 67 Shoeburyness 1864 251 Short Cut through the Wood, A 1862 117 Sign of Progress, A 1864 131 Singular Optical Delusion 1850 135 Sketch at a Steeple Chace, A 1863 145 Sketch from a Study Window 1863 78 Sketch in St. James's Street, A 1860 7 Sketch near Leicester Square, A 1862 72 Sketch on the Downs, A 1861 111 Sketch on the Sea-Coast during the Gale 1862 105 Sketches at Brighton 1862 237 Sketching Master, The 1858 40 Slow Game, A 1863 105 Snooks has Joined a Rifle Corps 1861 192 Soap-Bubbles 1857 186 Social Treadmill, The,--The Wedding Breakfast 1857 63 Some more Foreign Visitors 1862 182 Something in that 1856 133 Something like a Description 1860 30 Something like an Inducement 1860 184 Soothing Explanation 1860 50 Sou'-Wester in a Sea-side Lodging-House, A 1863 66 Special Pleader, A 1861 143 Spirit-Rapping 1860 232 Spirit Drawing by our own Medium, A 1860 236 Spoon-shaped Bonnet, The 1860 66 Sport (?) Fowl Shooting 1860 147 Sporting Intelligence 1859 97 Sportive Elements, The 1860 246 Spread of the Volunteer Movement--Scene, the Schoolroom 1860 74 Startling Result 1857 152 Steeple-Chace Study, A 1860 185 Stolen Pleasures are Sweet 1863 51 Stout Assertion, A 1863 123 Street Fight, A 1864 211 Study of Crinoline, A 1858 216 Studies of Crinoline during an Equinoctial Gale 1863 221 Accepting a Situation 1856 40 Subject for a Picture 1861 47 Subject for Charity, A 1849 168 Submissive Husband, The 1862 233 Suburban Flyman, The 1864 207 Successful Angling 1849 254 Summer Visitors 1855 22 Superfluous Advice 1847 213 TABLE d'hôte à Paris, A 1864 219 Taking it Manfully 1860 195 Taking the Risks 1861 129 Terrible Threat, A 1862 34 The Very Thing 1860 183 Those Horrid Boys Again 1860 15 Tit Bit, A 1861 82 To be Pitied 1863 181 Tolerably Broad Hint, A 1859 130 Toll-Bar Nuisance, The 1864 154 Too Bad 1862 116 Too Bad, by Jove! You Know 1860 53 Too Clever by Half 1863 8 Towards the Close of the Season 1856 92 Travellers' Luggage 1860 20 True Tale, A 1863 126 Truly Delightful 1856 77 Tu Quoque 1858 226 Tu Quoque, A 1861 9 Turning the Tables; or a Little Sauce for the Gander 1862 108 Tyrant, A 1859 58 UNEXPECTED Always Happens, The 1860 109 Unexpected Arrival, An 1863 153 Unexpected Bliss 1861 8 Unexpected Change, An 1860 17 Unfeeling Husband, An 1856 131 Unmindful of Dignitaries 1855 17 Unwelcome Pleasantry 1861 62 Useful and Ornamental 1861 149 Useful Appliances 1862 67 Useful at Last 1861 8 VALUABLE Addition to the Aquarium 1860 75 Vaulting Ambition 1856 65 Very Careful 1860 158 Very Considerate 1864 240 Very Cruel Satire 1860 151 Very Much Alive 1856 177 Very Much at Sea 1860 210 Very Rude Indeed 1847 53 Very Slangy 1855 144 Very Thing, The 1860 183 Very Vulgar Subject, A 1859 132 Victim to Over Exertion, A 1859 61 Visit to the Studio, A 1860 188 Vive le Sport Again 1862 194 Volunteer Review, The 1860 6 Vulpecide, The--Base Indeed 1862 185 WALTZING of the Period 1861 165 Watering-Place Pleasure, A 1864 186 Weight for Age 1855 114 Well (?) Brought Up 1863 76 Well Over! Anyhow 1863 100 Well! The Boldness of some People 1861 27 Well Timed 1864 135 We should Think it Did 1860 82 What is it? 1856 121 What Next? 1854 178 What our Volunteers Ought Not to Do 1862 231 What's the Matter with Him? 1859 114 What's to be Done in July? 1861 20 What we could Bear a Good Deal of 1863 204 What we Want to Know 1863 250 When Doctors Disagree, &c., &c. 1844 234 Which is the Brute? 1858 234 Who would have Thought it? 1860 38 Wicket Proceeding, A 1863 57 Wind S. W., Fresh 1859 18 Wire Fence, The 1863 218 Word to the Wise, A 1860 3 X-CELLENT Notion, An 1855 158 YEOMANRY Service, The 1856 62 Yes, on Some People 1859 16 Yet another Americanism 1864 179 Young America 1855 119 Young England 1862 33 Young Northamptonshire 1859 151 [Illustration: THE END.] * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original. 
47718	----	PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day MR. PUNCH AT HOME [Illustration: A note at the foot of a page] [Illustration: A FIRST ESSAY IN HOUSEKEEPING.--_Mr. Jones._ "What is it, my pet?" _Mrs. J._ "This rabbit (_sob_)--I've been plucking it--(_sob_)--all the afternoon, and it isn't half done yet!"] MR. PUNCH AT HOME THE COMIC SIDE OF DOMESTIC LIFE [Illustration: Maid with broom] AS PICTURED BY F. H. TOWNSEND, LEWIS BAUMER, C. SHEPPERSON, DAVID WILSON, FRED PEGRAM, GUNNING KING, L. RAVENHILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, A. W. MILLS, G. L. STAMPA, C. E. BROCK, A. S. BOYD, PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, AND OTHERS _WITH 130 ILLUSTRATIONS_ PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" [Illustration: 3 decorative leaves] THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration: Mr. Punch at desk] [Illustration: Man in dressing gown reading Punch] IN SLIPPERED EASE Just because MR. PUNCH is eminently representative of all our national characteristics is he something of a good old-fashioned Philistine in his domestic circle. We find him, in his notions of home life, distinctly partial to the cosy comfort that is associated the world over with "The Englishman's Castle." He enjoys the delights of his own fireside, the pleasures of his table, the society of his womenkind, the casual visits of his friends, no less, and perhaps much more, than the formal functions to which the phrase "At Home" is also applied. "Mr. Punch at Home" is in a sense the complement of "Mr. Punch in Society." It touches on musical evenings, dances, the social life generally, but more particularly the domestic side of it--the servant difficulty, the humours of the kitchen and the butler's pantry. It gives glimpses of home life in the country as well as in town; among the poor as well as among the rich; in flats and lodgings as well as in suburban villas and the mansions of the West End. John Leech dealt largely with the servant girl trouble, but as many of his jokes were topical and have lost most of their point with the passing of the topic, and as others have an old-fashioned air with them and are not so smart or so pointed as those by later artists, preference has been given to the moderns. [Illustration: Mr. Punch] MR. PUNCH AT HOME [Illustration: Mr. Punch sitting in library] THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--"You remember that party at Madam Gelasma's, to hear Joachim, Rubinstein, and the Henschels, and De Soria--quite a _small_ party?" "No; I wasn't there!" "No? Ah--well--it _was_ very select!" * * * * * THE GREATEST QUESTION OF THE DAY.--"My dear, what will you have for dinner?" * * * * * OUR WHIST PARTY.--_Major MacFlush_ (_at close of rubber, to partner_). Didn't ye see me call for trumps? _Partner_ (_a new hand_). You may have called, Major, but I never heard you! * * * * * UNDESIRABLE BRIC-A-BRAC.--Family jars. * * * * * MEM. FOR YOUNG HOUSEWIVES.--To make both ends meet--burn the candle at 'em. * * * * * "PLEASANT it is when the woods are green," as paterfamilias observed when all the doors in his new villa took to warping. * * * * * THE DEAR THINGS.--_He._ You know Jones's wife, an old schoolfellow of yours; tell me, is she musical? _She (her dearest friend)._ I should say decidedly not, or she wouldn't be so fond of hearing the sound of her own voice. * * * * * THE KITCHEN-RANGE-FINDER.--The policeman! * * * * * MOTTO FOR THE LADY OF THE HOUSE.--Don't worry about trifles; make a blanc-mange. * * * * * _Visitor._ "Do you have any difficulty in getting servants?" _Hostess._ "None whatever. We've had ten different ones in the last month!" * * * * * [Illustration: DOMESTIC ECONOMY.--_Cook._ "Wasteful, mum? Well, mum, that's one thing I'm _not_! Why, everythink in the eatin' an' drinkin' way that comes down from hupstairs, I make a point of finishin' up myself, mum!"] WANTED! The Lady and Gentleman Help Association can find excellent positions for-- A Lady Help with twenty thousand a year, who can help her husband to enjoy existence. A Lady Help with deft fingers, who can open oysters, peel walnuts and prawns, and make toast. A Lady Help who can draft a speech that will suit an ex-Secretary of State at a Social Science Congress. A Lady Help who can do the same for a mild and moderate Bishop at a Church Congress--extra wages will be given for assistance in the composition of charges. A Lady Help who can drive Four-in-Hand, for a coach to be started from Hatchett's Hotel to Coventry. A Lady Help who is absolutely helpless--none need apply unless they can show that they are good for nothing. Also-- A Gentleman Help who can nurse babies, and comb their hair carefully. [Illustration: THE COMPENSATING CIRCUMSTANCE.--_Sympathetic Visitor._ "Poor _dear_ Mr. Smith, how he must suffer with all that sneezing and coughing." _Mrs. Smith._ "He does, indeed; but you can't think how it amuses the baby!"] A Gentleman Help who can choose good cigars, and assist in smoking them. A Gentleman Help who can work a sewing machine and a private apparatus for the distillation of whiskey. A Gentleman Help who can assist the Sultan of Turkey to pay the interest on his debts. A Gentleman Help who can help the clerk of the weather to turn on a little more sunshine. * * * * * AT THE SMITHSON'S DANCE.--_Young Innocent._ "I beg your pardon, did I tread on your foot that time?" _Sweet Girl (very sweetly)._ "Oh, no, not _that_ time!" * * * * * "MARY, there's three months' dust in the drawing-room!" "That isn't my fault, mum. You know I've only bin here a fortnight!" * * * * * [Illustration: "You're dreadfully untidy again, Mary! I don't know what the baker will think of you when he comes." "The _baker_ don't matter, 'm. The _milkman's_ bin!"] * * * * * _Doctor (to Mrs. Perkins, whose husband is ill)._ "Has he had any lucid intervals?" _Mrs. Perkins (with dignity)._ "'E's 'ad nothink except what you ordered, Doctor!" [Illustration: T'OTHER WAY ROUND.--_He._ "That's Lady Passeh. She's got an action on at the courts, asking for £5,000 damages." _She._ "Damages! I should have thought she'd have asked for _repairs_."] [Illustration: THE EYE AS AN AID TO THE EAR.--_Young Lady (repeating conversation to deaf old gentleman)._ "Miss Frills says it gave her such a fright." _Deaf Old Gent._ "Eh? I didn't quite--" _Young Lady._ "_Such--a--fright!_" _Deaf Old Gent._ "Ah, yes--I agree with you--so she is!"] * * * * * WHY, NATURALLY.--"Cook, ought I to write Salvation Army in _converted commas_?" * * * * * ORTHODOX.--_The Rev. Alexis Tonsher (going round his new parish)._ "Of course, you observe Lent, Mrs. Rickyard?" _Mrs. Rickyard._ "Oh, yes, sir, we allus hev pancakes o' Shrove Tuesday!" * * * * * AN EXCUSE.--_Mistress._ "Another breakage, Jane? And a wedding present, too! How ever did you do it?" _Jane (sobbing)._ "They al--ways break--when I--drop 'em!" * * * * * APPRECIATIVE.--_Amateur Tenor._ "I shall just sing one more song, and then I shall go." _Sarcastic Friend._ "Couldn't you go first!" * * * * * "ENTERING THE SOCIAL CIRCLE."--Making the first cut into a round of beef. * * * * * _He._ "What pretty hair that Miss Dashwood has--like spun gold!" _She (her rival)._ "Yes--fourteen carrot." * * * * * [Illustration: _Mabel._ "We always do this when mater's out, uncle. Saves all the bother of talking. Ripping idea, isn't it?"] [Illustration: A CHEERFUL PROSPECT _General Blaxer._ "Ah, partner, do you--er--discard from--er--strength or weakness?" _Mr. Mildman._ "Er--er--generally from _fright_!"] [Illustration: _The Mere Man._ "I--er--leave it to you." _His Partner._ "Coward!"] * * * * * THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--_Tomlinson._ "Good-bye, Miss Eleanora----" _Miss Eleanora._ "But you've _already_ said good-bye to me, Mr. Tomlinson?" _Tomlinson (who is always ready with some pretty speech)._ "Have I, really? Well, one can't do a pleasant thing too often, you know!" * * * * * FELINE AMENITIES.--_Fair Hostess (who is proud of her popularity)._ "Yes; I flatter myself there's not a door-bell in the whole street that's so often rung as mine!" _Fair Visitor._ "Well, dear, _I_ had to ring it _five times_!" * * * * * BACHELOR HOUSEKEEPING.--_Mr. Brown._ "Pray, Jane, what on earth is the reason I am kept waiting for my breakfast in this way?" _Jane._ "Please, sir, the rolls isn't come, and there's no bread in the house!" _Mr. Brown._ "Now, upon my word! How can you annoy me with such trifles? No _bread?_ then bring me some _toast_." [_Exit Jane in dismay._ [Illustration: SOCIAL INSINCERITIES.--_His Lordship (vociferously, with the rest)._ "_Brava! Encore!_ Go on! I could listen all night!" (_Aside, to footman_). "Just see if my carriage is come. Look sharp!"] HOUSEHOLD RECIPES. _To destroy black-beetles._--Turn a pack of fox-hounds into the kitchen. _To cure smoky chimneys._--Discontinue fires. _To get rid of ghosts._--Use disinfecting fluid copiously. _To expel dry-rot._--Soak the places affected with the finest dry sherry. _To get the servants up early in the morning._--Send them to bed early at night. _To revive the fire._--Tie up the front-door knocker in a white kid glove. _To prevent the beer going too fast._--Possess the key to the mystery. _To avoid draughts._--Don't take any. _To destroy moths._--Collect butterflies. _How to keep plate clean._-Wrap it up in silver paper. _How to dispose of old newspapers._--Put them into the brown study. * * * * * THE MOST CONTINUOUS BREAK WE KNOW. Our housemaid's. [Illustration: _The Duchess (who takes a great interest in all her servants, and has a large house-party)._ "Oh, so you're the new scullery maid. I hope you like your place?" _New Scullery Maid._ "No, my lady. I want to leave next week. I can't stand these late dinners. All the ladies as I've ever been connected with have just took a bit of something in their 'ands, and there wasn't all this washing up!"] * * * * * LATIN AT THE BRIDGE TABLE.--_Sursum-corda_--"I double hearts." * * * * * STIRRING EVENT.--Mixing a plum-pudding. * * * * * SENTIMENT FOR THE SERVANTS' HALL.--May we never smell any powder but what is white! * * * * * GOOD KNIFE FOR FRUIT.--"_Le Sabre de mon Pear._" * * * * * KITCHEN DRESSERS.--Fine cooks. * * * * * SELF-RESPECT.--_Cook (to fellow-servant who has been after a new place)._ "Well, 'Liza, will it suit?" _Eliza._ "Not if I knows it! Why, when I got there, blest if there wasn't the two young ladies of the 'ouse both a-usin' of one piano at the same time! 'Well,' thinks I, 'this _his_ a comin' down in the world!' So I thought I was best say good mornin'!" * * * * * THE BACK-DOOR BELL.--A pretty kitchen maid. [Illustration:_Prize Idiot (who doesn't know all the family)._ "Beastly slow here. I'm off. Which way do _you_ go home?" _Son of the House._ "I'm there now."] * * * * * NOT SO BAD AS THEY SEEM.--Mistresses show more consideration for their servants than is generally supposed. Not long ago Mrs. Fidgitt was heard telling Mary Ann that she had been scouring the whole house for her. * * * * * HOW WE ARRANGE OUR LITTLE DINNERS.-- _Mistress._ "Oh, cook, we shall want dinner for four this evening. What do you think, besides the joint, of ox-tail-soup, lobster patés, and an entrée--say, beef?" _Cook._ "Yes,'m--Fresh, or Austr----?" _Mistress._ "Let's see? It's only the Browns--tinned will do!" * * * * * MOTTO FOR A SERVANTS' HALL.--"They also serve who only stand and wait."--_Milton._ * * * * * "COOK'S" EXCURSIONIST.--Her policeman on a trip. * * * * * SWEET SIMPLICITY.--_Visitor._ "Jane, has your mistress got a boot-jack?" _Maid-of-all-work._ "No, sir; please, sir, I clean all the boots, sir!" [Illustration: BEFORE THE RECEPTION.--_Lady of the House (instructing new page)._ "Have you ever been at a party before, Riggles?" _Riggles._ "Honly as a _guest_, mum."] [Illustration: SYMPATHETIC.--_Young Wife (rather nervously)._ "Oh, cook, I must really speak to you. Your master is always complaining. One day it is the soup, the second day it is the fish, the third day it is the joint--in fact, it is always something or other." _Cook (with feeling)._ "Well, mum, I'm truly sorry for you. It must be quite _hawful_ to live with a gentleman of that sort."] [Illustration: _Mary (the new housemaid who visits the study for the first time, and is unaware that poor Snooks is suffering from a violent headache and has been ordered to keep a damp cloth round his head and wear goggles)._ "Lawk-a-mussy!" _Mrs. Snooks (appearing at door)._ "What's the matter, Mary? _It's only master!_"] * * * * * EVERYTHING COMES TO THE MAN WHO WAITS.--_Country Rector's Wife (engaging manservant)._ And can you wait at dinner? _Man._ Aw, yes, mum; I'm never that hoongry but I can wait till you've done. * * * * * UNCONSCIOUSLY APPROPRIATE.--_Jane._ 'Allo, Hemma, what are yer a-crying about? _Hemma._ Missus 'as given me the sack because I knocked over some of them hornaments she calls "break-a-break." * * * * * _Gentleman (to Thomas, who has given notice)._ "Oh, certainly! You can go, of course; but, as you have been with me for nine years, I should like to know the reason?" _Thomas._ "Why, sir, it's my _feelins_. You used always to read prayers, sir, yourself--and since Miss Wilkins has bin here, she bin a-reading of 'em. Now I can't _bemean_ myself by sayin 'Amen' to a guv'ness." * * * * * THE FORCE OF HABIT.--Our coachman, when he waits at table, always commits the same fault: he whips away the plates too soon. [Illustration: A GOOD START.--_New Maid Servant (just arrived)._ "May I harsk if my young man 'as called yet?"] [Illustration: FEMININE AMENITIES _Mabel (not in her first youth)._ "First of all he held my hand and told my fortune; and then, Evie, he gazed into my face ever so long, and said he could read my thoughts! Wasn't that _clever_ of him, dear?" _Evie._ "Oh, I suppose he read between the lines, darling."] * * * * * NEW VERSION.--It was the reflection of a thoughtful hall-porter that the self-denying man must be the man who says he is not at home when he is. * * * * * A DISCHARGE WITHOUT A REPORT.--A servant dismissed without a character. * * * * * DIAGNOSIS.--"Is the rector better to-day, Jarvis?"--"No, sir; not any better, sir!" "Has he got a _locum tenens_?"--"No, sir. Same old pain in the back!" [Illustration: _Hostess._ "And do you really believe in christian science?" _Visitor._ "Well, you see, I've been getting rather stouter lately, and it's such a comfort to know that I _really_ have _no body_!"] BELGRAVIAN MAXIMS BY A FASHIONABLE VALET. The real essence of a gentleman is perfume. You know the snob by his hands--the gentleman by his boots. It is easier to pardon a hole in a person's manners than one in his coat. In the noblest park there are mushrooms. One grows rich, but one is born elegant. With men, as with monuments, position is everything. We make our money in London, but we spend it in Paris. Society has but little faith, except in scandal. Joke with an inferior, and you tumble to the level of that inferior. There are many stylish men, but very few men of style. Shopkeepers are the counters in the game of life. When we have no ready money, we are only too glad to use them. A lady is an angel that ought never to touch the earth, excepting when she is stepping from the door to her carriage. [Illustration: A JU-JITSUOUS HINT--_Fair Victim._ "Pardon, Mr. Snobbarts, this is a waltz, I believe, not a bout of ju-jitsu!"] Anything that reveals a compromise with one's pocket is inelegant, as for instance, Berlin gloves. In my opinion, naked-handed poverty is a thousand times preferable. You can generally tell "a son of the soil" by the amount he carries in his nails. England gives us meat, and France sends us cooks. The gentleman is known at once by his walk, the lady by her carriage. Credit is the homage that trade pays (and sometimes pays very dearly) to rank. * * * * * _Not so Bad as Volodyovski._--_Lady (to applicant for nursemaid's place)._ What is your name? _Applicant._ Hermyntrude, mum. _Lady._ Good heavens! That would never do. Can't you think of something shorter? _Applicant (after a pause)._ Well, mum, my young man allus calls me Carrots. * * * * * _Simple Fractures._--Servants' breakages. [Illustration: "Ah, mum; I'm a 'eap better in my 'eart since last time you come 'ere a-districk visitin'. It's all along o' thisher little book '_Hernest Words to the Young_' as I pinched outside a bookshop wen the propperrieter was a-lookin' the other way. A power o' good it 'ave done me!"] * * * * * _The Beau Ideal of a Cook._--One who cooks a rabbit _to a hare_! * * * * * _A Servant on Spiritualism._--It is fortunate that rapping spirits, which seem very tricksy beings, do not seem to be able to move street-knockers. Otherwise we should continually be going to answer a rap at the door, and coming back, saying, "Please'm only a ghost." * * * * * THE FORCE OF HABIT.--_Missus (who is acting as amanuensis to Mary)._ "Is there anything more you wish me to say, Mary?" _Mary._ "No, marm, except just to say, please excuse bad writin' and spellin'." * * * * * A TRIUMPH IN COOKERY.--When the cook makes a hash of the marrow-bones. * * * * * _Mistress (to new maid)._ "Well, Mary, I've tried to apportion you different duties for each day in the week, so that you may have variety in your work. You've been here a month now. Just tell me which day you like best?" _Maid._ "Please, mum, _my day out"!_ [Illustration: THE TEST OF COURAGE.--_She._ "You men are such cowards." _He._ "Anyhow, one of us married you!"] [Illustration: "NOT NEGOTIABLE!"--_Impecunious Lodger._ "Jemima, did you ask Mrs. Maggles whether she would take my I. O. U. for this quarter's rent as I'm rather----" _Maid of all Work._ "Yes, sir, and she say she won't, sir, not if you was to hoffer 'er the 'ole halphabet!"] [Illustration: A BLANK PAGE.--_Sir Patrick._ "Then, I presume you know a little about cleaning silver, waiting at table, and so on?" _Jenkins._ "Nothing whatever, sir. But I do not suppose there is anything which intellect may not overcome!!"] * * * * * SEASONABLE.--A servant, to whom money is an object, during the present winter offers (unbeknown) to let out his master's study fire by the hour. For terms apply to the Pantry, Belgravia. * * * * * "SLIGHTLY MIXED."--_Mistress (to maid, who has just received a month's notice)._ "I would rather not give you a character at all. But if you insist upon it, of course I shall tell the truth about you." _Maid._ "And if you do, ma'am, I shall suttingly bring an action for defimation o' character!" * * * * * THE FLUNKEY MILLENNIUM..--When every _valet_ shall be exalted * * * * * INHABITED HOUSE DUTY.--The servants'. And I wish they'd do it.--Yours, paterfamilias. * * * * * SANCTA SIMPLICITAS.--_Housemaid._ "We're getting up a sweepstakes, Mrs. Thrupp. Won't you join?" _Housekeeper._ "Gracious me, child; not I! Why if I _won_ a horse I shouldn't know what to _do_ with him!" [Illustration: EARLY DOMESTIC TRIALS.--_Young Wife (in great trepidation--to her brother)._ "Tommy, I'm going to give the cook warning. Just listen at this corner, and as soon as you hear me say, 'Cook, I give you a month's warning from to-day,' mind you call me, and say I'm wanted immediately!"] METROPOLITAN HOUSEHOLDERS' CLUB We understand it is in contemplation to get up a club for the purpose of endeavouring to improve the quality of servants. The indifference of the material is very much against the project, but the effort is worth making. A few old housekeepers have determined to set the scheme on foot by offering a few prizes, of which the following is a catalogue:-- For the Cook who has lived longest in one place without including whole candles under the general head of kitchen-stuff _One pound_ For the Nurse who has walked oftenest in the Park without speaking to a Horse-guard _Ten shillings_ For the Housemaid who has remained longest in a situation in which the cat has not been in the habit of doing wilful damage to the crockery _Five shillings_ [Illustration: _Lady (engaging a maid)._ "Was your last mistress satisfied with you?" _Maid._ "Well, mum, she said she was very pleased _when I left_!"] For the Cook who has been the greatest number of years in service without resigning her own heart and her mistress's cold meat to the devouring passion of a policeman _Fifteen shillings_ For the Nurse who has remained the longest time in a place without mistaking the children's linen for her own, and given the baby the fewest private punches and pinches _Seven shillings_ For the Female Servant who has set off on Sunday evenings to go to church, and found her way there oftenest _Five shillings_ For the Page who has opened the smallest number of notes in the longest period of service _Half-a-Crown_ For the Groom who has best carried out the principles of protection with regard to his master's corn _Ten shillings_ For the Footman who has worn the fewest of his master's shirts _One shilling_ The above are only a few preliminary prizes, but if the scheme can be effectually carried out, there is every intention to offer rewards for a variety of other qualities. In the present day, when servants are always "bettering" themselves, which means growing worse and worse, the project of a prize club for this troublesome class seems fraught with the most promising prospects. * * * * * [Illustration: SPEEDING THE STAYING GUEST.--_Hostess._ "Won't _you_ sing something, Mr. Borely?" _Mr. B._ "Yes, if you like. I'll sing one just before I go." _Hostess_. "Well, _do_ sing _now_, and perhaps Miss Slowboy will accompany you."] * * * * * _Mistress._ "Did Mrs. Brown say anything when you told her I was out?" _Maid._ "Yes, 'm. Mrs. Brown, mum, said, 'Thank Heaven!' mum." * * * * * OUT OF HER ELEMENT.--The last place which you would expect a woman to like is--a stillroom. * * * * * "CUISINE."--_Mistress._ "Susan, we're thinking of having a pig's head boiled for dinner. You understand it, I suppose?" _Cook._ "Oh no, m'um. I told you before I came I didn't understand game!" * * * * * "IN THE QUEEN'S NAME."--_Martha the Cook (to Lizzy the Housemaid)._ "'Ere's an 'orrible mistake. In 'is subscripshion list the heditor 'as spelt your name with a "hi" and a "he" instead of a "y."" [Illustration: "A GHOSTLY VISITANT" _Mistress (returning)._ "Any one to see me, Mary?" _Mary._ "Yes, mem. An insanitary spectre." [_But it was only the sanitary inspector who had called regarding some alterations that were going on._ ] "THE FROGS" AT OXFORD. SCENE--_Parlour of Private House, Oxford._ TIME-_Quite recently. Cook wishes to speak to her Mistress._ _Cook._ Please, 'm, I should like to go out this evening, 'm, which it's to see them Frogs at the New Theayter. _Mistress._ But it's all Greek, and you won't understand it. _Cook._ O yes, 'm. I once saw the Performin' Fleas, and they was French, I believe, leastways a Frenchman were showin' of 'em, and I understood all as was necessary. [_After this, of course she obtains permission._ * * * * * DOMESTIC ECONOMY.--_Cook (to Vicar's Wife)._ "And what's to be done with the sole that was saved yesterday, ma'am?" * * * * * _Bucolic Boot-boy._ "I say, Sarah, wotever be a creematorium?" _Metropolitan Maid._ "Oh, you _are_ an ignorant boy! Why, it's French for a milkshop, of course!" [Illustration: _Mistress (soliloquizing)._ "I'm afraid this hat's rather out of date." _Maid._ "Oh, no, mum. It's quite fashionable. Cook has just bought one exactly like it!"] [Illustration: _Domestic._ "There's a gentleman wants to see yer on business." _Master._ "Well, ask him to take a chair." _Domestic._ "He's taking 'em all, and the table too. He comes from the furniture shop!"] [Illustration: FOREIGNERS ARE ALWAYS SO VERY POLITE.--_Charming Hostess._ "_Do_ have some of my cake. I don't believe you've ever tasted my own make?" _Delightful Foreigner (wishing to be polite)._ "Indeed--indeed I have, and I assure you I did not wish to eat anything else for days after!"] LADY HELPS On this subject much nonsense has been written. They are quite as suitable (perhaps more so than otherwise) to the cottage as to the castle. The cottage need not have a name spelt with a Celtic series of dissonant consonants. A few hints may be advisable to the numerous "Lady Helps" at present in the market. A Lady may efficiently help the mistress of the household to snub her husband, by adroitly echoing (and improving) the said mistress's remarks of a personal character. A Lady may help the Cook to produce an original dinner, by suggesting fresh combinations, which will make the said Cook indignant, and even furious. A Lady may help the Butler effectually, by decanting the '45 port, and shaking it a little first as you would Daffy's Elixir. A Lady may help the visitors to the house by reading all the letters that may chance to be thrown aside, and taking advantage of any private intelligence they contain. [Illustration: _Mistress._ "Oh, Gwendolen, whatever _have_ you done!" _Gwendolen._ "It's all right, m'm. I 'aven't 'urt myself!"] A Lady may help the master of the house by a flirtation in the library, while the mistress is away on a round of visits. A Lady may help the daughters to quiet talks in the Park with ambitious Curates. A Lady may possibly help the son and heir to--herself. You see, there are ladies and ladies, as there are _fagots et fagots_, and _Mr. Punch_ has his suspicions of the Lady Helps of the future. * * * * * ADVICE TO SERVANTS OF ALL WORK.--"Learn to labour and to wait." * * * * * HAPPY THOUGHT.--_Husband (devoted to spouse and bridge)._ What shall we christen the little dear? _Wife (still more devoted)._ I've been thinking--why not--_Bridget?_ _Husband (delighted)._ By all means. For luck. * * * * * "HARD LINES."--_Mistress (to former Cook)._ "Well, Eliza, what are you doing now?" _Ex-Cook._ "Well, mum, as you wouldn't give me no character, I've been obliged to marry a soldier!" [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--_Hostess (who has just sung)._ "Are you _quite_ sure you don't sing, Captain Lovell?" _Captain Lovell._ "I assure you--a--I've no voice whatever. A--unfortunately, I--I'm a _listener_!"] [Illustration: INTUITION.--_Ethel (to Mary, her bosom friend, who has been admiring the diamonds, and now hears for the hundredth time how it all came about)_. "I don't know exactly what it was; but somehow I felt, from the moment we met last night, that he meant to propose. _Something_ about him--something in his voice----" _Mary._ "Ah, I see, there was the true _ring_ in it!"] [Illustration: "Oh, please, 'm, th' noo paarson's called to see you." "Very well, Mary. I hope you've shown him in, and asked him to sit down?" "Oh, yes, 'm, ah've _loosed 'im into the drawing-room_!"] HOW TO GROW A PINK OF FASHION This Pink must be planted in the most aristocratic soil. The mould should be the very mould of form. It grows mostly in the open air, and Belgravia may be looked upon as the great nursery for these Pinks. Several favourable specimens, also, have been reared at the theatres, the Italian and French operas, and similar fashionable forcing houses. It is met with in great profusion at the balls of the nobility. The latter specimen, however, cannot bear the daylight. It is put into a hot bed the first thing when carried home in the morning, and there it remains closed up and almost dead until the evening, when it just begins to lift its drooping head. It is about twelve o'clock at night that it is seen to the most blooming advantage. Your Pink of Fashion is watered with a liquid called champagne, and, if it is at all faint, a little piece of chicken and ham, and a few crumbs of bread, applied to the mouth of the delicate flower, will revive it wonderfully. It is a very tender plant, though it has been known to bloom for two or three seasons. The greatest care, however, is requisite to keep it from the cold, for its beauty is so sensitive, that the slightest neglect will nip it in the bud. The Pink is of several colours, but the white with a beautiful maiden blush is the specimen the most preferred. This Pink usually carries its head very high, and, though not distinguished for any particular amount of scents, still it is eagerly taken in hand in society for its (s)talk. The Pink of Fashion is mostly single, but cases of double Pinks have been recorded. The double (or married) Pink, however, does not excite one half the interest of the one that is single. [Illustration: MUSIC AT HOME.--_Mrs. Smith_ (fortissimo, _to Mrs. Brown, in one of those sudden and unexpected pauses with which Herr Signor Hammerantonga is fond of surprising his audience_). "And so I gave her a month's warning on the spot!"] [Illustration: _Farmer Twentystone, from Mudshire, visits his recently married niece at Lavender Villas, Brixton._ _Housemaid._ "Will you sit down, if you please, sir?"] [Illustration: FEBRUARY 14 _Mistress._ "So you want me to read this love-letter to you?" _Maid_. "If ye plaze, mam. And I've brought ye some cotton-wool ye can stuff in yer ears while ye rade it!"] [Illustration: _Her Ladyship (who has been away from home for Christmas)._ "Well, Blundell, I hope you all had an enjoyable Christmas dinner?" _Blundell._ "Yes, thank you, my lady. Ahem! I--er--took the liberty of obtaining--_in the absence of your ladyship_--the biggest goose procurable!"] [Illustration: BRASS.--_Sympathetic Old Lady._ "Oh dear, dear! I do so feel, Mabel, for that poor man with the long trumpet."--(_She must mean the trombone in this street band._)--"All through the piece, dear, he's been trying to fix it right, and he can't do it, poor fellow!!"] [Illustration: SISTERS! (_Before the ball._)--_Pierrette (changing the subject after a recent tiff in which she has come off victorious)._ "This glass is better, Rose. I can see myself here beautifully!" _Pompadour (seeing her opportunity)._ "Plainly, I suppose you mean."] [Illustration: _Sentimental Youth (to partner shaken by a passing tremor)._ "Oh, I hope you don't feel cold?" _She._ "Not at all, thanks. Only 'the grey goose walking over my grave.'" _Sentimental Youth (with effusion)._ "Happy goose!"] THE SERVANTS' COLLEGE Mr. Punch rejoices to hear that "the greatest plague of life" has a slight chance of being abated by the establishment of a College for Servants, who will be educated in the most careful way to do justice to their employers--the main idea being that most lucidly stated by the Dean of Saint Patrick's, that it is the chief duty of every servant to ascertain the full amount of his master's income, and to spend the whole of it on his own department. Having been favoured with an early copy of the subjects with which the courses will commence, _Mr. Punch_ is glad to give to this useful undertaking the advantage of his worldwide publicity. CLASS 1. _Lady Housekeepers._--"How to manage a widower with young children. In three heads: 1, Domestication; 2, Flirtation; 3, Temptation." CLASS 2. _Cooks._--"How to make the kitchen-fire too hot for the missus, and too cool for the sirloin." [Illustration: _Son of the House._ "Aren't you dancing this? May I have the pleasure? I'm trying to do my duty all round to-night!"] CLASS 3. _Butlers._--"How to substitute Marsala for Madeira, and _Vin ordinaire_ for Château-Lafitte." CLASS 4. _Lady's-Maids._--"How to look much prettier than the young ladies when there are visitors in the house." CLASS 5. _Footmen._--"How to make a fortune out of six feet two in height, and calves nineteen inches round." CLASS 6. _Men and Wives._--"How to keep their quarrels to themselves, and feed their 'incumbrances' in the neighbourhood." CLASS 7. _Coachmen and Grooms._--"How to make the corn supplied to the stables more useful than if wasted on dumb animals." CLASS 8. _Housemaids._--"How to train that noble animal, the harmless necessary cat, to break glass and snap up unconsidered trifles." It can scarcely be doubted, from this preliminary syllabus of lectures, that the new Institution will do much for the comfort, economy, and refinement of our households. * * * * * "CHAMBER MUSIC."--Baby! [Illustration: _Lady Sneerwell._ "Have your daughters accomplished much in music?" _Unfortunate Father._ "Yes--the tenants below have moved."] THE MODERN WOMAN'S VADE MECUM _Question._ Do you agree with a certain female lecturer, that it is the duty of the fair sex to captivate the other? _Answer._ Certainly, as cleverness need not be divorced from fascination. _Q._ You do not object, then, to brains in the abstract? _A._ No; but as some men have a horror of the blue-stocking, I would cover fine heads with pretty toques. _Q._ And if a woman has literary tastes, what would you advise? _A._ That part of her reading should be devoted to the fashion journals, and she should not sacrifice her toilette to her intellect. _Q._ What is your opinion about latchkeys, visits to the music-halls, and cigarettes? _A._ That, from a man's point of view, they are played out, and consequently should be abandoned by man's would-be help-mate. _Q._ What do you think of glasses? _A._ That, when necessary, they should take the shape of a pince-nez, as it is more becoming than spectacles. [Illustration: "INFLAMMABLE BUTTONS." UN PAGE D'AMOUR] _Q._ Then, before marriage, what should be your treatment of man? _A._ I should do all I can in my power to please him. _Q._ And after the nuptial knot had been tied, what then? _A._ That, as Mr. Rudyard Kipling would observe, is quite another story. * * * * * NEW RULES FOR "PIT" [_On the authority of the Athenæum Club_] (1) The table shall be firmly clamped to the ground, and the cards shall be of metal not less than ¼ inch thick, with rounded corners. (2) Any player who speaks in such an audible voice that the position of the roof is altered shall be forced to make the damage good. (3) No player shall use a megaphone or speaking-trumpet of any kind. (4) Muffin-bells may only be employed by players who have formed a "corner," and desire to communicate this fact to other players. [Illustration: "THE EARTHLY PARADISE."--"What reason did he give for wishing to break off the engagement so soon?" "He said the report that he was engaged to me had not extended his credit nearly as much as he had hoped for."] (5) If a player has called "corner," and is found to have only eight similar cards in his hand, the game shall be continued without him. His remains may be removed at leisure. (6) "Progressive Pit" with more than four tables shall only be played in a house which is at least five miles in any direction from other inhabited buildings. (7) No person who is not a player shall approach while a game is in progress, except in the case when a player faints across the table and so obstructs the play. * * * * * SPRING CLEANING [SCENE--_Spring Gardens._ _Enter Algy_, L.H., _meeting Frankie as he strolls in_, R.H.] _Algy._ Hallo, old boy! (_Greeting_) I've just had my house papered and painted inside and out. _Frankie._ Indeed! And--er--(_struck by the novelty_) what sort of paper did you have put _outside_? [_Exit Algy_, R.H., _and Frankie_, L.H. _Scene closes._ * * * * * ANSWER TO MARY ANNE.--The needle-gun is not threaded with gun-cotton. [Illustration: _She (to clumsy steerer)._ "Rather like progressive bridge, isn't it?" _He._ "Why?" _She._ "Well, you see, you run up against everyone in the room before you've done." [Illustration: ROMANCE OF THE KITCHEN _Cook (from the area)._ "O, 'Liza, gi' me my winigrette--I've 'ad a--offer--from the _dustman_!!"] [Illustration: THE CONVALESCENT _New Curate (tenderly)._ "My good man, what induced you to send for me?" _Oldest Inhabitant._ "What does he say, Betty?" _Betty._ "Says what the deuce did you send for him, for!!"] [Illustration: THE MEREST ACCIDENT.--_She._ "So you failed in your _vivâ voce_ exam.?" _He._ "Yes; but it was purely from absence of mind."] [Illustration: "O NOBLE FOOL! O WORTHY FOOL!" _Uncle (to nephew, who has just come into a fortune)._ "You must remember, my boy, that 'a fool and his money are soon parted'!" _Fair Cousin._ "Oh, but I'm sure Sammy will be the _exception that proves the rule_!" [_Sammy is delighted._] [Illustration: PERNICIOUS PRAISE.--_Mr. Ranty Snobbarts (holding forth)._ "By Jove, I'm awfully keen on huntin'. Ain't you, what?" _Horrid Boy._ "Yes, by Jove, he _is_ keen. Why, when he wasn't huntin' the fox, he was huntin' his horse!"] [Illustration: DUTY FIRST.--_Her Ladyship (who is giving a servants' ball--to butler)._ "We shall begin with a square dance, and I shall want you, Wilkins, to be my partner." _Wilkins._ "Certainly my lady; and afterwards I presoom we may dance with 'oom we like?"] [Illustration: _Maid._ "There's a much better tone in this house now, m'm, than there used to be." _Lady (indignantly)._ "Indeed! I don't understand you Chalmers." _Maid._ "Oh, m'm, I mean downstairs, of course. Not upstairs." [Illustration: THINGS THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY.--_Uncle George._ "So glad you are so much better, Amy, my dear." _Amy._ "Yes, thank you, Uncle George. Since Dr. Pillum took me in hand my recovery has been _simply miraculous_!"] [Illustration: _Applicant (for situation as parlour-maid)._ "Should I be expected to hand things at lunch, madam, _or do you stretch_?"] [Illustration: _Lady Caller (to old family servant)._ "Well, Bridget, did Master Arthur shoot any tigers in India?" _Bridget._ "Of coorse he did. Shure we have the horns of the craythurs hung in the hall!"] PUNCH'S GUIDE TO SERVANTS PRELIMINARY CHAPTER Betty, "first catch your fish," is a golden rule for a cook, and first catch your situation is a very necessary piece of advice to be given to servants in general. The choice of a mistress requires as much judgment as the choice of poultry; and you should be careful not to pick out a very old bird in either case. The best market to go to in order to suit yourself is a servants' bazaar--as it is called--where mistresses are always on view for servants to select from. On being shown up to a lady, you should always act and talk as if you were hiring her, instead of wanting to be hired. You should examine her closely as to the company she keeps, and the number of her family; when, if there is any insuperable objection--such as the absence of a footman, a stipulation against perquisites, a total prohibition of a grease-pot, or a denial of the right of visit, by a refusal to allow followers--in either or all of these cases, it will be as well to tell "the lady" plainly that you must decline her situation. It is a good general rule to be the first to give a refusal, and, when you find you are not likely to suit the place, a bold assertion that the place will not suit you, prevents any compromise of your dignity. If you like the appearance and manner of the party requiring your assistance, but with some few concessions to be made, the best way to obtain them will be by declaring that you never heard of any "lady" requiring--whatever it may be that you have set your face against. By laying a stress on the word "lady," you show your knowledge of the habits of the superior classes; and as the person hiring you will probably wish to imitate their ways, she will perhaps take your hint as to what a "lady" ought to do, and dispense with conditions, which, on your authority, are pronounced unlady-like. If a situation seems really desirable, you should evince a willingness, and profess an ability, to do anything, and everything. If you get the place, and are ever called upon to fulfil your promises, it is easy to say you did not exactly understand you would be expected to do this, or that; and as people generally dislike changing, you will, most probably, be able to retain your place. [Illustration: _Smithson (the celebrated poet, novelist, playwright, &c.)._ "But, my dear young lady, I really don't understand you. I haven't been winning any ping-pong tournament. I don't play." _Miss Brown._ "Oh, but _surely_ I heard our hostess say you were '_the_ Mr. Smithson!'"] [Illustration: A HINT.--_Young Housewife (as the front door bell rings)._ "Now, is that the butcher's boy--or a visitor?" _New "General" (after a pause)._ "If you don't think you're tidy enough, mum--_I_'ll go!"] When asked if you are fond of children, you should not be content with saying simply "yes," but you should indulge in a sort of involuntary, "Bless their little hearts!" which has the double advantage of appearing to mean everything, while it really pledges you to nothing. Never stick out for followers, if they are objected to; though you may ask permission for a cousin to come and see you; and as you do not say which cousin, provided only one comes at a time, you may have half-a-dozen to visit you. Besides, if the worst comes to the worst, and you cannot do any better, there is always the police to fall back upon. By-the-way, as the police cannot be in every kitchen at once, it might answer the purpose of the female servants throughout London, to establish police sweeps, on the principle of the Derby lotteries, or the Art-Union. Each subscriber might draw a number, and if the number happened to be that of the policeman on duty, she would be entitled to him as a _beau_, during a specified period. [Illustration: _Visitor._ "I'm so glad to find you going on so nicely, Mrs. Jenkins! And is this the dear little soul? I would so _love_ to see him!" _Mrs. Jenkins._ "Lor, no, mum! That's my 'usband taking his bit o' rest. He's a policeman on night duty." [_Quick exit, with promise to look in again._] Always stipulate for beer-money, and propose it less for your own advantage than as a measure of economy to your mistress, urging that when there is beer in the house it is very likely to get wasted. You will, of course, have the milk in your eye, when proposing this arrangement. Tea and sugar must not be much insisted on, for they are now seldom given, but this does not prevent them from being very frequently taken. Having said thus much by way of preliminary advice, we commence our guides to service with THE MAID-OF-ALL-WORK On arriving in your new place you get from the servant who is going away the character of your new mistress. She has already had yours, and you have a right to know hers, which, as it is given by a domestic who is most probably discharged, will, of course, be a very bad one. [Illustration: _Mistress._ "You wish me to take your notice, Jane. This is very sudden, isn't it?" _Jane (blushing)._ "Oh no, mum, I've known 'im three days!"] When your predecessor has taken her departure, your mistress may, perhaps, come into the kitchen and tell you what you will have to do, or, at least, a part of it. She will show you the bells, and tell you which is the house bell, which the parlour bell, which the drawing-room bell, and which are the bells of the different bed-rooms; but she will not tell you how you are to answer them when they are all ringing at once, which may occasionally happen. As it will probably be late when you arrive, you will have to carry up the tray for supper, when you will be stared at, and scrutinised as the new servant, by the whole of the family. Let us now look at your wardrobe. Two of each article will be enough, for if the washing is done once a week you have a change; but if only once in three weeks, you must contrive to supply yourself with the smaller articles, such as stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, from the family stock of linen. As a maid-of-all-work, you have the great advantage of being a good deal alone, and can therefore indulge in the pleasures of philosophy. You can light the fires, and think of Hobbes. Fasten the hall-door, and recollect some passage in Locke. Or broil the ham for breakfast while wrapped up in Bacon. [Illustration: "MERELY MARY ANN" AGAIN.--"Please, 'm, the fishmonger says will you have it filtered?"] You should rise early if you can, but if you cannot you must make up for it by hurrying over your work as quickly as possible. As warm water will be wanted upstairs, don't stop to light the kitchen fire, but throw on two or three bundles of wood, and set them all burning at once, when you will have some hot water immediately. Run into the parlour and open the shutters, light the fire, cut the bread and butter, clean the shoes, make the toast; and when this is on the table, devote any time you may have to spare to sweeping the carpet. Now, the family having gone down to breakfast, you may light the kitchen fire, and then run up and make the beds. After which you may sit down to your own breakfast, having previously, of course, taken the opportunity of helping yourself to tea and sugar from the tea-caddy. You may now go upstairs, professedly to sweep the bedrooms, but really to look out of window, and if the street is a narrow one, talk to the servant opposite. Besides, looking out of window saves time, for you are able to answer the fifty people who come to the door in the course of the morning with hair-brooms, apples, carpets and rugs, tapes and stay-laces. Being in a new place, you will be naturally curious to examine all the cupboards and drawers up-stairs, but do not be too inquisitive at first, for you will have other opportunities for a good rummage. [Illustration: _Lady (engaging servant)._ "I ought to tell you that we are all strict teetotalers here. I suppose you won't mind that?" _Mary Jane._ "Oh, no, mum. I've been in a reformed drunkard's family before!"] [Illustration: SIMPLE SAYINGS FOR THE SILLY Bad as it is to be fawned upon, it is better than to be bitten.] [Illustration: SANCTA SIMPLICITAS _Orthodox Old Maid._ "But, Rebecca, is your place of worship consecrated?" _Domestic (lately received into the Plymouth Brotherhood)._ "Oh no, miss--it's galvanised iron!"] You will now come down to cook the dinner; but, as this is another branch of service, we proceed to tell you how to lay the table. Lay the knives and forks, taking the latter from the plate-basket, where they will be kept, though they are probably only Britannia metal or German silver; nevertheless, call it "the plate," as it will gratify your mistress. If the family should be addicted to display, without means, you will have to set round doyleys and wine-glasses, with a decanter containing a remnant of British wine, which will not be touched, but will be brought on "for the look of the thing" every day after dinner. The time has now arrived for your own meal, and make the most of it. Secure all the tit-bits, and if you cannot manage to get through the whole of them at dinner, put away part of them for supper. [Illustration: DISADVANTAGES OF PERFORMING AT A COUNTRY HOUSE IN THE WASP SEASON. (_Just in the most important passage too._)] About this time the afternoon's milk will arrive, and if you have beer-money you will take some of the milk out for your own use, taking care to fill up with warm water, so that you do not cheat your mistress of her quantity. You will be in the middle of washing up your dishes, when the family will want tea, and you will have just sat down to your own tea, when you will probably be asked to do some mending. The best way to put a stop to this is to turn sulky, do the work badly, or express the greatest surprise, declaring that all the time you have been out to service you never, &c., and would be glad to know who on earth, &c., &c., &c. [Illustration: "I wish, madam, you would not interrupt me every time I try to say something. Do I ever break in when you're talking?" "No, you brute, you go to sleep!"] [Illustration: TO KEEP HIS MEMORY GREEN _He._ "I was an intimate friend of your late husband. Can't you give me something to remember him by?" _She (shyly)._ "How would _I_ do?"] [Illustration: THE SERVANT QUESTION "Oh, I say, 'ave you seen the papers about 'shall we do without servants?' I should like to see 'em try, that's all!" "Yus, and me too!"] You must not forget to cultivate your mind, and for this purpose you had better take in "Brainy Bits," and if you read it through every week, your head at the end of the year will be full of volcanic rocks, the solar system, primary strata, electric eels, organic remains, and hints for preserving gooseberries. [Illustration: A CUT BENEATH HER _Lady of the House._ "Oh, yes, Jane, I asked Mrs. Johnston to let her little boy and his nurse call to go walking with you and the children." _Nurse._ "Well, ma'am, I hope as you don't expect me to go walking with _that_ young person? I don't think you can be aware as she is only a _nurse-'ousemaid_!"] On washing days there will probably be a woman come to wash; and in the mutual confidence of the tub, you will probably become very friendly. You may, no doubt, be of great service to each other, you in giving her bits of this and that, while she may serve you by becoming the agent for the disposal of your kitchen-stuff. Do not fall a victim to low spirits, and above all, avoid sentiment. A morbid-minded maid-of-all-work, whose heart has been carried off in the butcher's tray, the milkman's can, or the baker's basket, is for ever lost. Never hang your affections on a policeman's staff. The force is proverbially fickle, and many a servant girl has pined with a hopeless passion for one who has moved in a superior station. [Illustration: BRIDGE PROBLEMS.--NO. 1.--What has the dealer declared?] [Illustration: BRIDGE PROBLEMS.--NO. 2.--Will dummy go spades?] [Illustration: BRIDGE PROBLEMS.--NO. 3.--Why did she declare hearts?] [Illustration: BRIDGE PROBLEMS.--NO. 4.--What has dummy declared?] [Illustration: BRIDGE PROBLEMS.--NO. 5.--Who doubled no trumps?] One of the most trying situations for a maid-of-all-work, is in a house where there are lodgers. She will, very likely, have to take everything at once to everybody at once. She will be having the first floor and the two-pair back clamouring at the same time for the only tea-pot in the house, while the parlour will be calling angrily for his boots, which have been taken by mistake, to the garret, who is writhing in intense agony for his highlows. THE COOK For ages it has been believed that a certain wicked person sends cooks; but Johnson has well observed, and so by the by have Smith and Brown, that "if we had no cooks, we should be as bad as cannibals." [Illustration: _Butler._--"Master says you're to have a glass o' this before you go, Mrs. Giles. Now, that's some rare good stuff, that is, an' will do 'ee a world o' good!" _Mrs. Giles._--"Well, it certainly _do_ taste better than the physic I be in the 'abit o' takin'!"] Cooks have always been the subject of sarcasm, and Jones tells us that even in his day the wits loved to give the cooks a good roasting. It is said, moreover, that "too many cooks will spoil the broth," from which we may presume that, as the workhouse broth is the very worst in the world, a great many cooks must have a hand in it. Apicius was the first man who made cookery a science, and he poisoned himself: no doubt with his own cookery. He invented several sauces, and was, in fact, the Roman Harvey. He is believed to have been the first who added the trimmings to legs of mutton, and he took for his motto the line in Virgil:-- "_At Regina gravi jamdudum saucia curâ._" because the luxury of _gravy_, _jam_, _sauce_ and _curry_ are all shadowed forth in the quotation alluded to. Dr. Johnson was, according to Boswell, "a man of very nice discrimination in the science of cookery," and he was proverbial for his sauce, which he dealt out to every one with the greatest freedom. Boswell once asked him if he liked pickles, when he said, "No, sir; the man who would eat a pickle would pick a pocket." Boswell adds, "I ventured to say he would"; and they wound up the evening with grog, which Boswell, as usual, had to pay for; and it is thought that the expression of "Standing _Sam_" originated with Boswell having to stand whatever Sam (Johnson) chose to call for. The celebrated Dr. Parr was also a great epicure, and liked his victuals underdone, from which we have the expression Parr-boiling. Milton loved his meat well dressed, and died with a good thing in his mouth; but whether it was a morsel of philosophy, or something nice, has never transpired. [Illustration: A DEAD CERT.--_Expert from the Estate (just arrived--the gardener being a distinct failure)._ "Why, would you I believe it, sir, I thoroughly cleaned your stove yesterday just before you came--took it all to pieces--and" (_most cheerfully_) "I'll lay a sovereign I put some of it back wrong!"] Having said thus much of the ancient and classical who took an interest in cookery, we plunge down stairs into the modern kitchen, and embrace the cook of the present period. On going to be hired, you will, perhaps, be told there are no perquisites allowed. Don't stick out about that, for if perquisites are not allowed you must take them. It is easy to say the meat makes no dripping, and, of course, you can't account for it. It is a rule in cookery to make the best and the most of everything, and you will therefore sell your kitchen-stuff at the marine-store shop that will give the best price for it. In some families the mistress of the house will assist the cook; but she should have a sickener of that as soon as possible. If she makes a pie, spoil it in the baking; for if there is any truth in the adage about "too many cooks," the lady of the house should not be encouraged in making one of the number. [Illustration: ONE THING AT A TIME _Genial Master (under the painful necessity of discharging his coachman)._ "I'm afraid, Simmons, we must part. The fact is, I couldn't help noticing that several times during the last month you have been--sober; and I don't believe a man can attend properly to the drink if he has driving to do!"] Order is a great essential to a cook, who should keep everything in its place, taking care to keep herself as snugly in her place as possible. Never connive at dishonesty in others, but keep yourself to yourself; for, if you rob your mistress, the least return you can make is not to sanction others in doing so. Never go into any place where a cat is not kept. This useful domestic animal is the true servants' friend, accounting for the disappearance of tit-bits, lumps of butter, and other odd matters, as well as being the author of all mysterious breakages. What the safety-valve is to the steam-engine, the cat is to the kitchen, preventing all explosions or blowings up that might otherwise occur in the best regulated families. Having laid down some general principles for the guidance of cooks, we give a few maxims that cannot be too strictly attended to. 1. Keep yourself clean and tidy if you can. If your fingers are greasy wipe them on your hair, which thus acquires a polish. 2. When a joint comes down from dinner, cut off what you intend for your supper. If cut while the joint is warm, it does not show that it has been cut. Relieve it also from all superfluous fat, which will of course go into your grease-pot. [Illustration: A WARM WELCOME.--_Distracted Hostess (to Uncle George, who has arrived unexpectedly)._ "Oh, I'm _so_ glad you have come! The conjuror I had engaged hasn't turned up. So _you_'ll do some tricks to amuse the children, won't you?"] 3. If you want a jelly-bag, cut up an ironing blanket for the purpose. The former is of course wanted in a hurry, but the latter may be procured at leisure. 4. When your dishes come down stairs, throw them all into scalding water at once. Those that are not broken by the operation may afterwards be taken out, and put in their proper places. 5. Scour your pickle-jars, but empty them first, if you are fond of pickle. 6. If you have been peeling onions, cut bread-and-butter with the same knife; it will show the multifariousness of your occupations, and perhaps give a hint for raising your wages. 7. Let your spit and your skewers be always rusty; or, at least, do not take the trouble to polish them; for by leaving great black holes in the meat, they show it has been roasted, which is always better than being baked, and it will be the more relished in consequence. 8. Never do anything by halves, except lamb, which you must sometimes do by quarters. [Illustration: INDIRECT ORATION.--"Oh, if you please, mum, there's no meat for dinner. The butcher 'as been and gone and never come this morning!"] 9. If you are cooking even a sheep's head or a bullock's heart, take pains with them, so that what you do may be equally creditable to your head and heart. 10. If you have a follower, or a policeman, who likes a snack, cut it off each joint before you cook it--for everything loses in the cooking--and the disappearance of one pound, at least, in eight or nine, may thus be easily accounted for. The above maxims will be sufficient to guide the cook in her course of service, and we do not add any receipts, for it has been well said by Dr. Kitchener, or might have been said by him as well as by anyone else--that he who gives a receipt for making a stew, may himself make a sad hash of it. In bidding farewell to the cook, we would have her remember that her control over the safe will give her a peculiar influence over the hearts of the police, and she must be careful not to enervate a whole division, and leave a district defenceless, by being too lavish with the blandishments of love and the larder. [Illustration: SCENE--_Country Vicarage._ _Burglar (who has been secured by athletic vicar after long and severe struggle)._ "I think you're treatin' me very crool--and a clergyman too!"] THE LADY'S-MAID Ladies'-maids are the rarest articles of female domestic service, and being in the nature of luxuries, are the best paid. They are to cooks and housemaids what the pine-apple is to the _pomme de terre_, and for this pine-like superiority of station many are doomed to pine in vain. The statistics of female service give us a million maids as the grand total, and deducting three-eighths for servants-of-all-work, two-eighths for cooks, three-sixteenths for housemaids, and one-eighth for nurses, we have a surplus of one-sixteenth for ladies'-maids, which will be about a fair average. Servants belonging to this superior class should be able to read and write. It is a good practice in the former accomplishment to read all the notes sent to your mistress, and the little motto wafers, now in use, seem invented to facilitate this arrangement, for they never adhere to the envelope. [Illustration: BRIDGE BELOW STAIRS.--"Good gracious, James, whatever is the meaning of this extraordinary hilarity in the kitchen?" "Cook's just revoked for the third time, marm!"] You will probably have the charge of your mistress's apartments. Never suffer anything to lie about, and, therefore, you should pocket any trifle that is left carelessly out of its place. I do not mean to say you should become a thief, for, if found out, you would lose your place, and your character, but you must take care of a thing till it is missed, and when it is wanted, it will, of course be asked for. It is then time enough for you to find it in some hole or corner, into which it has of course got by accident. Your lady's dressing-box will be under your care. See that the scent-bottles are always well supplied, which you can only ascertain by taking a little out of them for your own use very frequently. You should endeavour at all times to save your mistress trouble by acting for her as much as you can; and in order to do this effectually, you should dress as much like her as possible. Order about other servants just as she would herself, and talk to tradespeople exactly as if they were being spoken to by your mistress, of whom you are the representative. Of course the closer the representation you give of her, the more exact are you in the performance of your duty. [Illustration: "GRAND SLAM" IN THE STONE AGE.--It is, for obvious reasons, undeniable that a great wave of "Progressive Bridge" passed over the entire human race at a remote period. It is no use blinking the fact that while it lasted it was responsible for a marked "set-back" in the census returns.] Some ladies'-maids are expected to mend their ladies' clothes; but no lady, that is a lady, ought to wear any clothes that have been mended. You should try and persuade her to be of the same opinion, by which you will not only save yourself the trouble of mending, but you will come in for many things much sooner than you could otherwise hope to do. The author of the proverb, that "a stitch in time saves nine," no doubt thought himself very clever; but if avoiding trouble is the object, it stands to reason that though "a stitch in time saves nine," it must be a greater saving still never to put a stitch in anything. If your mistress will make you work at your needle, put a novel on your lap, so that you may read and work at the same time. If you are asked to cut out a body, make a bungling job of it, that you may not be asked to do the same thing again. If you cut out anybody it should be the lady's-maid next door, with which your ambition ought to be satisfied. Taking out marks from linen is an essential part of the duties of a lady's-maid. Some practise themselves in this art by taking out the initials of their mistress and substituting their own; but this is a dangerous experiment. [Illustration: _Prof. Gimlet._ "Who is that pretty girl those men are talking to?" _Miss Bradawl._ "Oh, she's nobody; it's strange how some women attract the men; now there's Miss Blinkins over there, such a nice clever girl, and I haven't seen a man speak to her the whole evening."] It is said in "Knight's Guide to Service" that "when for the first time you stand behind your mistress's chair to brush her hair, you may feel that you are placed in a situation of high trust." This, however, depends upon circumstances; for if your mistress dyes her hair, it is a great mark of her confidence to ask you to brush it. If she wears false braids, she is, to a certain extent, in your power; for, as the poet says-- "Should she upbraid," you might betray her; but if she is almost bald, and wears a wig, from the moment of your being entrusted to stand behind her chair and brush her hair, you may do what you please with her. If, in the story of _Faustus_, _Margaret_ had worn a wig, and _Mephistophiles_ had seen her but once without it, the power of the fiend over her would have been irresistible. [Illustration: A DIFFICULT TASK.--"Jack, dear, I do wish you would get another photo taken." "How often have I told you I will not?" "But why not?" (_Then, thoughtfully, after a pause._) "Are you afraid of being asked to look pleasant?"] In your position of lady's-maid, many family secrets will perhaps come to your knowledge. Do not talk of them to your fellow-servants, which would, in fact, be destroying your own valuable monopoly. A servant who knows a great deal of the family affairs cannot be cheaply parted with. You will be secure in your place, and will therefore be in a position to make the most of all its advantages. The little work we have already alluded to says, that if the lady's-maid is depressed in spirits, "she should open her mind to the friend, whoever it may be, that got her the place." This friend is usually the keeper of a servants' office, who would have enough to do if she were made to bear the infliction of all the unbosomings of all the discontented servants she may have found situations for. This mode of easing your heart would involve the necessity of constantly running out, besides the expense of an occasional omnibus. [Illustration: UNHAPPILY EXPRESSED.--_She (who did not know they were to meet)._ "Why, Mr. Brown, this is a pleasant surprise!" _He (who did)._ "I can't altogether say that it is so to me, Miss Jones!"] Manners form an essential part of the qualities of a lady's-maid, and making one's self agreeable is the best mannered thing one can possibly accomplish. This is to be done by praise, for nothing is more agreeable to a lady than flattery. However sensible your mistress may be, she is sure to have a share of female vanity; and even if she knows herself to be ugly altogether, she will fancy she has some redeeming feature. If she squints, praise her complexion; if that is bad, tell her she has beautiful eyes: if she has a dumpty figure, praise her face; and if her countenance is as ugly as sin, tell her that her shape is exquisite. Some people will tell you that sensible women don't like flattery; but this you must not believe; for, however sensible they are, they are pleased by it, particularly when it is administered with so much art as to seem not intended for mere compliment. Very palpable praise is insulting to the generality of ladies; but flattery can scarcely be too gross for some few of them. You should study the character of your mistress, that you may not run the risk of offending her by too much praise, or hurting her by giving too little. Your mistress will sometimes take a journey, and you will then have to pack her things for her. The following directions for packing a lady's portmanteau may, therefore, be of use to you:--Put the lighter dresses at the bottom, for these will not be wanted while travelling; and artificial flowers, wreaths, &c., may go along with them. Insert next a layer of dress caps, and ram well down with heavy dresses, to keep the others in their places. Throw in a sprinkling of shoes, and then add the rest of the wardrobe; cramming-in the marking-ink and the desk at the top, where they are easily got at if they are wanted. Thrust in scissors and hairbrushes anywhere that you can find room for them. Get the footman to cord the box, for it will be a good romp for you, as well as great assistance. By following these instructions, you will find that you have a tolerably snug place of it. [Illustration: _Belle of Balham (to professor, who has just played Chopin's funeral march)._ "That's awfully jolly! Now play one of Lohengrin's things!"] THE NURSERY-MAID Any one may undertake the place of a nursery-maid. As every female has, when a girl, been in the habit of carrying, letting fall, snubbing and slapping, either her own or some one else's little brothers and sisters, it is easy to say you have been accustomed to children. Supposing that you enter service as a nursery-maid, there will, perhaps, be an upper nurse, who will be, in fact, your mistress. Your care at home will be to wait on her; and when walking out, you will have to keep the children at a convenient distance while she flirts with her _beau_, who will probably be one of the British soldiery. This will be very tantalising to you at first; but you must recollect that your own time will come, if you wait patiently. [Illustration: PRIMUM VIVERE, DEINDE PHILOSOPHARI.--"Is Florrie's engagement really off, then?" "Oh, yes. Jack wanted her to give up gambling and smoking, and goodness knows what else." (_Chorus._) "How absurd!!"] Some places are very different from others. You may go into a wealthy family where the children are kept upstairs, like live lumber, in the nursery, and are only brought out now and then for show, like the horses of the state carriage, or the best tea-set. If you curb their spirits that they may be docile on those occasions, and turn them out to the best advantage as far as appearance is concerned, you will be a favourite with your mistress. In some places you will be what is called "assisted" by the mother; or, in other words, interfered with, just enough to destroy all your attempts at discipline. In this case, your mistress will doubtless tell you, that if you cannot manage the children, she must find someone who can, and will give you warning accordingly. [Illustration: _She._ "What an enormous expanse of shirt-front Major Armstrong has!" _He._ "H'm--it isn't his _front_ I object to. It's his _side_!"] It is not necessary to give you any particular directions about your dress, for the penny _Belle Assemblée_ will furnish you with all the latest fashions; and you have only to do in cottons and stuffs, what your mistress is doing in silks and satins. You should bear in mind, that you are not obliged to make yourself a dowdy to please any one; for nature has doubtless given you a pretty face, and the gifts of nature ought to be made the most of. Besides, if you are a servant at home, you are a lady out of doors; and you may even keep a parasol at the greengrocer's, to be ready for you when you take a holiday. When you go to a new place, your mistress will, perhaps, tell you the character of each child, that you may know how to manage their different tempers; but you will, of course, use your own discretion. If one is pointed out as a high-spirited little fellow, you may be sure that he is fond of killing flies, tying toys to the dog's tail, striking you, and crying, as if you had struck him, when he hears his mamma coming. If you are told that one of the dear boys has a turn for finding out how everything is made, and he must not be checked, as his papa intends him for a civil-engineer, you may be sure that the juvenile spirit of inquiry will be shown in pulling your work-box to pieces, unless you turn his attention to the furniture, which he should be encouraged to dissect in preference to any of your property. [Illustration: THE LATEST LITTLE GAME.--"The duchess is looking awfully pleased with herself this evenin'. What's the matter?" "What! Haven't you heard? Why, she's just been made editor of the pet poodle page in the _Upper Crust Magazine_!"] When you have a baby to take care of, some say you should be particular in its food; but if the child cries you have no time for this, and you must stop its mouth with anything that comes handiest. Indiscriminate feeding is said to lay the foundation of diseases which remain with the child through life; but as you do not remain with the child so long, this is not your business. A nurse who knows thoroughly what she is about, will keep a little Godfrey's Cordial, or some other opiate, always at hand--but quite out of sight--to soothe the infant; for nothing is so distressing to the mother, or such a nuisance to yourself, as to hear a child continually crying. When there is only one infant these soothing syrups must be cautiously applied, lest the necessity for a nurse should terminate altogether, and you are thrown out of your situation. [Illustration: _Nervous Player (deprecatingly playing card)._--"I really don't know what to play. I'm afraid I've made a fool of myself." _Partner (re-assuringly)._ "That's all right. I don't see what else you could have done!"] An infant sometimes requires example before it will take to its food, and, as it is very nice, you may as well eat one half of it first, to encourage the infant to eat the other. Use sugar in children's food very sparingly, and, lest the infant be tempted to want some of the sugar that is saved out of the quantity allowed, lose no time in locking it up out of sight in your own tea-caddy. If you wish to save your beer-money, recollect that milk is heavy for children, unless mixed copiously with water. As nothing ought to be wasted, you can drink what remains, instead of beer, at your dinner. There are many very troublesome duties that some nurses undertake in order to amuse the child; but as Nature is acknowledged to be the best nurse, you had better let Nature try her hand at all the hard work, while you confine yourself to that which is easy. When a child reaches a certain age it will begin to want amusement, when, if there are no toys, you may give it the poker and tongs, or set it down on the floor before the coal-scuttle. Opening and shutting a box is also an amusement; as it involves occasionally the shutting in of the child's own fingers, the operation combines instruction also. As a child may be troublesome while being washed, give it the powder-puff; and as every thing goes to the mouth, the dear little thing will commence sucking the powder-puff, which will keep it quiet. [Illustration: WORKING OUT THEIR OWN SALIVATION This is not a feast of "funeral baked meats." It is a party of hygienic enthusiasts, following the system by which all food is masticated eighty-five times and then allowed to remain in the mouth till it disappears by involuntary absorption.] A very interesting age in children is when they begin "to take notice." When taking a walk with the children it cannot be expected that you can always have your eyes on _them_, and you must therefore accustom them to take care of themselves as much as possible. Besides, self-preservation is the first law of Nature, and a child cannot too soon be taught to follow it. Thus, if you are looking about you and the children get into the road, while a carriage is passing, you will probably not be aware of their danger, till it is past, when you will begin slapping and scolding your little charges that they may know better for the future. It is a very fine thing to encourage generosity in children, and you should therefore talk a great deal about the presents you have received on birth-days and on other occasions from the little dears in the place where you last lived. This will of course give your mistress a hint as to what she ought to do. For the children will naturally ask to be allowed to make you presents, and the parents not liking to check the amiable feeling, and desirous of not being thought shabby in comparison with your former employers, will no doubt give--through the hands of the children--what you may have occasion for. [Illustration: _Hostess (introducing first violin to sporting and non-musical guest)._ "This is Professor Jingelheim, who leads the quartet, you know." _Sporting Guest (thinking to be highly complimentary)._ "Leads--eh--ah--by several lengths, eh--and the rest nowhere! What?"] If you have nephews and nieces you may supply them with many little articles of dress that are pronounced to be "past mending." If your mistress notices that the stock of children's things diminish, you can suggest that "things won't wear for ever," which often passes as an apology for a sensible diminution in the number of socks and pinafores. You may observe that Master So-and-So is such "a spirited little fellow, that he does wear his things out very fast," and your mistress will be satisfied if she thinks her child's spirit has caused half his wardrobe to evaporate. If you follow all these instructions to the letter, you will make as good a nursery-maid as the best of them. * * * * * HINT TO HOUSEMAIDS.--How to destroy flies--encourage spiders. [Illustration: A MATTER OF HABIT.--_Lady (engaging new cook)._ "One thing more. I always like my servants to dress quietly." _Applicant._ "Oh, there won't be any trouble about that, ma'am. I've got a quiet taste myself."] [Illustration: NATURAL RELIGION _Bishop (reproving delinquent page)._ "Wretched boy! _Who_ is it that sees and hears all we do, and before whom _even I_ am but as a crushed worm?" _Page._ "The missus, my lord!"] [Illustration: "A FELLOW-FEELING MAKES US WONDROUS KIND."--"What! going to leave us, James?" "Yes, sir, I'm very sorry, sir, but I really can't put up with missus any longer!" "Ah, James! think how long _I_'ve put up with her!"] [Illustration: "Yes, she's a nice girl; but I can't get on with her. She has so little to say for herself." "Oh, but _I_'ve been talking to her for the last hour, and she doesn't interrupt. Now, that's what I think so charming!"] [Illustration: IMPOSSIBLE!--_He (relating a thrilling experience),_ "If I hadn't skipped to one side, I should have been run over! I assure you I had a _very narrow_ escape!" [Illustration: _She (having played a little thing for Bertram)._ "I hope you didn't hear the wrong note!" _Bertram (thinking to be complimentary)._ "Which one?"] [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD WISH TO HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY.--(_Our semi-detached neighbours._) _Grace._ "And yet, dear, how little we have seen of each other lately--considering there is only a partition-wall between us!" _Emily._ "But then, dear, it is such a comfort to feel that you are on the other side!"] [Illustration: _Mistress (about to engage a new housemaid)._ "Have you had any experience?" _Applicant._ "Oh yes, mum. I've been in _'undreds_ of sitiwations!"] [Illustration: SOMETHING NEW.--_Young Ass._ "Aw--I'm bored to death with life!" _She._ "Why don't you do something?" _Young Ass._ "Aw--there's nothing worth doing that I haven't tried." _She._ "Isn't there? There _must_ be. _Try and think._" [Illustration: BRIC À BRAC.--_Lady Croesus._ "Oh, what a sweet table! Where did you get it, my dear? Oh, I see here's the man's card." (_Spelling the label._) "'Table--Louis Quinze.' Louis Quinzey! What a horrid name! and why hasn't he put his address?"] [Illustration: _Mr. Boreham (who has already stayed over an hour and talked about himself the whole time)._ "Yes, I'm sorry to say I'm a martyr to insomnia. I've tried everything, but I cannot get sleep at night!" _His Hostess (sweetly)._ "Oh, but I can tell you a very simple remedy. You should talk to yourself--after going to bed!"] [Illustration: _Miss Withers (showing photograph of herself)._ "I'm afraid it's rather faded." _Binks (inexperienced, aged nineteen)._ "Yes, but it's just like you."] [Illustration: IN THE PICTURE GALLERY OF THE EARLS OF LONGLINE.--_Sir Peter Stodgely._--"Curious thing your family should all be took in fancy dress! I s'pose they're all by the same man, eh?"] [Illustration: OUR DOMESTICS.--"Listen Jack. I've put down 'kitchen and scullery maids kept; only two in family; beer allowed; no dairy; extra help when required.' Now, can you suggest any other inducement I can offer?" "_Well_--you might add 'charming scenery!'"] [Illustration: "----BUT THOSE UNHEARD ARE SWEETER" SCENE--_A Boarding-house._ _Wife._ "Why do you always sit at the piano, David? You know you can't play a note!" _David._ "Neither can anyone else, while I am here!"] [Illustration: _Hostess._ "Please don't leave off, Miss Jessop." _Miss J._ "But shan't I bore you? It is possible to have too much of a good thing, you know." _Hostess._ "Yes; but that doesn't apply to _your_ playing!"] [Illustration: WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR BOYS?--_Father._ "Now, Sir William, I want Jack to go into business--his mother wants him to read for the Bar. Jack's undecided. What do you advise?" _Sir William Grubbe._ "You go into business, my boy. See what it's made me!" _Jack (emphatically)._ "Oh, Sir William, I've quite decided to take the mater's advice."] THE LOST CHANCE [Illustration: "A PAGE DRAWING"] _New Maidservant (much pleased with herself)._ A gentleman called to see you, sir, and said as he were just leavin' town for some time. Knowin' as you didn't want to be disturbed this morning, I told him as you was _h_out-- _Master._ Quite right. (_To himself_) Sharp girl this! _New Maid (cheerfully)_--and told him as I didn't know when you'd be back again. 'Is card's in the 'all, sir. He 'ave wrote somethin' on it. [_She fetches it, returns, and presents it._ [Illustration: SNUBBING _He._ "Sorry I forgot your party the other evening!" _She._ "Oh, weren't you there?"] _Master (reads writing on card, then suddenly springing up, exclaims)_ Oh--(_stops the escape of a very strong expletive_)--How long ago? _New Maid (cheerfully)._ Oh, quite a _h_our. There was luggidge on the cab. _Master (subsiding hopelessly in chair, to Maid)._ You can go. (_Alone, grinding his teeth._) Confound the idiot! (_Reads card muttering to himself._) _Snooker Poole, Chork Cottage, Kew. "Called to repay coin personally. Sorry to miss you. So long!_" I shall never see my hundred and fifty again!... That's the worst of new servants! [_He is left considering whether it would not be as well to alter the form of his instructions to the hand-maiden. Scene closes._ * * * * * THE BOASTFULNESS OF BELINDA.--_Arabella (concluding the description of the magnificence of her employer's home)._ And in the servants' 'all we 'as 'ot plovers' heggs ev'ry mornin' for brekfist. _Belinda._ That's nothin'. At hour 'ouse hall the fires is laid with reel sparrow-grass sticks instead of wood! [_Arabella dries up._ [Illustration: _Inexperienced and anxious Young Mistress._ "The new housemaid, Maria, is a Roman Catholic but I hope you will not allow any religious controversy in the servants' hall." _Cook (with much dignity)._ "You needn't have any fear, my lady. In really 'igh class families religion is _never_ mentioned!"] SPRING-CLEANING HINTS (_With acknowledgments to the "World and his Wife"_) HOW TO MAKE OLD PICTURES LOOK NEW. Many houses have pictures darkened with age which only need a little drastic treatment to make them as fresh and bright as new oleographs. The surface should first be soaked in a strong solution of hydrochloric acid and then rubbed with an old nail-brush. Any paint that should chance to be removed can easily be supplied by a local artist for a few pence. We heard of a Sir Joshua Reynolds which was treated like this the other day in its owner's absence, and on his return was mistaken by him for a Christmas supplement. TO REVIVE KID. Give the kid a stiff brandy-and-soda. A PRETTY USE FOR OLD BOOTS. It is a mistake to throw away old boots as useless, or to waste them on newly-married couples. A most charming effect can be obtained by planting a fern in the heel and hanging the boot from the ceiling in the window. Any kind of fern will do. [Illustration: NO DOUBT OF IT.--_Daughter of the House._ "Here come Mrs. Massington and her husband." _Lady Smart._ "Ah, she's strong-minded, of course!" _Daughter of the House._ "Can you tell that by just looking at her?" _Lady Smart._ "No--by looking at him!"] TO REMOVE STAINS ON THE CEILING. The best thing to do is to re-whitewash the whole surface, which is done by lying on one's back on the top of the bookshelves and dabbing away steadily. But if the stain still shows through it is best to spill water systematically on the floor of the room above until you have stained the ceiling uniformly, leaving it a russet brown. After all, why should ceilings be white? TO REDDEN LOBSTER. Take a saucepan of boiling water and plunge the lobster in. It will emerge quite red and lovable. TO RENOVATE BLACK LACE. Wash in beer, beat between the folds of a linen cloth, and, when nearly dry, iron with a cool (not cold) iron. It is not advisable to drink the beer unless you are very thirsty. Good housewives find a way of getting it back into the kitchen cask. [Illustration: RESOURCE!--_Young Mr. Softly._ "Er--Miss Ethel, there is something I--er--particularly want to say to you. Er--when could I have a minute with you alone?" _Miss Ethel._ "Oh, that's all right! Something from Wagner, please, Lucy! Now, Mr. Softly!"] TO REMOVE INK STAINS FROM THE FINGERS. Fill your mouth with spirits of salt and then suck the fingers thoroughly. TO REMOVE STAINED PATCHES FROM THE WALL PAPER. This cannot be done. The only things to do are (_a_) re-paper entirely, or (_b_) re-arrange the furniture to hide the places. TO REVIVE OSTRICH FEATHERS. Soak the feathers in the best Australian wine (Emu brand), and then bury them up to the hilt in the sand. If the feathers still remain unconscious apply a hot-water bottle. TO EXTRICATE MOTH FROM FUR. Stimulate the moths by smelling-salts, and when they begin to show signs of activity remove the furs into a dark room lit by several strong wax candles. The moths will immediately quit the furs and rush into the flames of the candles. [Illustration: _Son of the House._ "Won't you sing something, Miss Muriel?" _Miss M._ "Oh, I daren't after such good music as we have been listening to." _Son of the House._ "But I'd rather listen to _your_ singing than to any amount of good music!"] TO REMOVE MARMALADE FROM VELVET. Immerse in a lather of white soap in hot water, and, after rinsing and dabbing firmly for five minutes, apply benzoline with a nutmeg-grater. If the marmalade then refuses to go, send for the police. HOW TO LIGHT A FIRE WITH CELLULOID COLLARS. Heat the collar over a gas jet until it begins to crack, then apply a fusee and thrust the collar between the bars of the grate. THE AMENDE HONOURABLE Quoth Will, "On that young servant-maid My heart its life-string stakes." "Quite safe!" cries Dick, "don't be afraid-- She pays for all she breaks." A "TIMES" QUERY ANSWERED Say, "_Who controls Policeman X?_" Why, look'ee, He--so devoted to the sex, And ever wary Near an "airy"-- Is oft controlled by "Cooky." [Illustration: TRUE HUMILITY _Right Reverend Host._ "I'm afraid you've got a bad egg, Mr. Jones!" _The Curate._ "On no, my lord, I assure you! Parts of it are excellent!"] CRUCIAL QUESTIONS _For both sexes at various ages_ AT FIVE. _She._ Will my new doll open and shut her eyes? _He._ Off to a party! Will they have mince-pies? AT TEN. _She._ Will pretty Master Smith be there this time? _He._ Will Uncle take me to the pantomime? _She._ Will Mamma let me wear my hair in curl? _He._ I say, how many l's are there in "girl"? AT FIFTEEN. _She._ Will he give me or Fan the first round dance? _He._ Will our chaps at the wickets have a chance? _She._ Will my next dress be made with longer skirts. _He._ Hoisted? O crikey! Wonder if it hurts? _She._ Did that sly Fanny hear him call me "dear"? _He._ I wonder if this "weed" will turn me queer? [Illustration: _Employer (to applicant for situation)._ "And then I am very particular about my cellars; you understand wine, I presume?" _Butler._ "Hin my last sitiwation, sir, I was considered a very tolerable judge o' wine, sir."] AT TWENTY. _She._ Will Papa think dear Percy's "screw" too small? _He._ Does this moustache mean to come on at all? _She._ Was it my eyes with which he seemed so struck? _He._ Is it a "pass," I wonder, or a "pluck"? _She._ I wonder whether _He_ will "pop" tonight? _He._ I wonder whether _She_ will answer right? AT TWENTY-FIVE. _She._ Shall I, oh shall I, have a chance this season? _He._ A stiffish total! Will there be a breeze on? _She._ Quite pale! Shall I put on the _tiniest_ touch? _He._ Most brilliant! Wonder if she rouges much? _She._ Not a bad figure! Has he any tin? _He._ Backed "Slowboy" for a pot! D'ye think he'll win? _She._ Long dress bill! Shall I get into hot water? _He._ Can I stave off old Snip another quarter? [Illustration: _Hostess._ "Don't you sing, Mr. Binks?" _Binks._ "No--er--I--hum--er----" _Hostess._ "Oh, I'm afraid you wouldn't be heard in this large room. Thanks, so much!" [_Terrible disappointment of Binks, who was simply dying to recite "Tam o' Shanter."_ ] AT THIRTY. _She._ Will the new curate be engaged or not? _He._ Close thing! Shall I have nerve to make the shot? _She._ Is flirting _really_ now a sort of sinning? _He._ Is my neat middle parting _really_ thinning? _She._ Now shall I get a partner for this dance? _He._ Old Boodles leaving! Shall _I_ have a chance? _She._ Engaged at last! Now _will_ he keep a carriage? _He._ That's done! How shall I like the yoke of marriage? [Illustration: A SERIOUS CASE.--_Cook (reading from daily paper)._ "Last night's official statement shows that there are fifty thousand cases of influenza in the metropolis." _Nervous Parlourmaid._ "Oh, Mary! And how many are there in a case?"] AT FORTY. _She._ When _will_ the major come up to the scratch? _He._ Fat, _plain_ and forty! Shall I risk the match? _She._ Is that a tinge of red about my nose? _He._ Does the grey show--unless one looks too close? _She._ Could I get on those "sixes" at a pinch? _He._ Must I allow the vest another inch? _She._ Did Lady Linda mean that as a snub? _He._ Will they blackball me at the Buffers' Club? _She._ Is the dear fellow right about confession? _He._ How stands my chance if they dissolve this session. AT FIFTY. _She._ Will Flora hook the wealthy cotton-spinner? _He._ Must I drop drinking port wine after dinner? _She._ Not meet! Great Heavens! Am I getting _stout_? _He._ By Jingo, was that twinge a touch of gout? _She._ _Did_ he mean anything by that warm glance? _He._ Shall I have "go" to get through this round dance? _She._ Will it be Brighton or the Continent? _He._ My dear, _can_ that last cheque be wholly spent? [Illustration: _Violinist (one of trio of amateurs who have just obliged with rather lengthy performance)._ "Well, we've left off at last!" _Hostess._ "Thank you so much!"] AT SIXTY. _She._ Will Lady Jane before those Jones's bow? _He._ Shall I, I wonder, get my knighthood now? _She._ Doctor, dear doctor, what _does_ ail my back? _He._ Will Lord Fitz-Faddle give that berth to Jack? _She._ Is Nelly really sweet on _that_ young Brown? _He._ Are Costa Ricas going up or down? _She._ He seemed so sparkish! Is it _quite_ too late? _He._ Dull, this! _Am_ I too old a bird to mate? [Illustration: _Smithson (the celebrated poet, novelist, playwright, &c.)._ "But, my dear young lady, I really don't understand you. I haven't been winning any ping-pong tournament. I don't play." _Miss Brown._ "Oh, but _surely_ I heard our hostess say you were '_the_ Mr. Smithson!'"] * * * * * OUTRAGE ON GOLDSMITH (_By a sleepy housemaid, concerning missus_) She rings us up at 7, till 10 she lies-- "More bent to raise the wretched, than to rise." [Illustration: NEW YEAR'S FETE AND GALA.--"Well, Jane, did you have a good time at home? Was the village very gay?" "Yes, thank you, mum. But we was rather disappointed, as the policemen's feet didn't come off!"] * * * * * CUTTING!--_Host._ "What bin did you put that Marsala in, Muggles?" _New Butler._ "In the--ah--dust-bin, sir!!" * * * * * SOCIAL GARDENING.--Cultivating an acquaintance. * * * * * _Q._ What's the difference between a fraudulent Bank Director and a Servants' Registry Office? _A._ The former cooks books, the latter books cooks. * * * * * THE SUBLIME.--The fashions of this season. THE RIDICULOUS.--The fashions of last season. * * * * * MUFFS AND MARQUISATES Lord M's a muff; but shrewd mammas determine Muffs _have_ a value when they're trimmed with ermine! * * * * * THE BEST FRENCH EXERCISES FOR GIRLS.--A series of practical studies in cookery _à la Française_. [Illustration: _Mistress._ "Well now, what can you cook?" _Applicant._ "Oh, I can cook any-think, mum." _Mistress._ "What about _entrées_?" _Applicant._ "Yes, I can do _ontrays_, mum." _Mistress._ "Can you do a _vol-au-vent_?" _Applicant (doubtfully)._ "Well, mum, in my last place there _was_ once some _talk_ about a _vollervong_, but it fell through."] * * * * * CLERICAL ÆSTHETICS.--_Fair Parishioner._ "And do you like the pulpit, Mr. Auriol?" _The New Curate._ "I do not. Er--it hides too much of the figure, and I like every shake of the surplice to tell!" [Illustration: FINIS] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes Typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in spelling, hyphenation and accents are as in the original. Italics are shown thus _italic_. 
48245	----	PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day [Illustration: Mr Punch as Irishman] MR. PUNCH'S IRISH HUMOUR [Illustration: "Sure, Pat, and why are ye wearin' ye'r coat buttoned up loike that on a warm day loike this?" "Faith, ye'r riverence, to hoide the shirt oi haven't got on!"] MR. PUNCH'S IRISH HUMOUR IN PICTURE AND STORY _WITH 154 ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY CHARLES KEENE, PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, G. D. ARMOUR, E. T. REED, H. M. BROCK, TOM BROWNE, GUNNING KING, AND OTHERS [Illustration: Irishman with shamrock] PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD. THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR _Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_ LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN [Illustration: Donkey cart carrying family and dog] MR. PUNCH AND PAT (_By way of Introduction_) [Illustration: Ragged Irishman standing] No PUNCH artist has done more with Irish humour than Charles Keene. Well over a third of the PUNCH drawings on this subject are from his pencil. Most of the PUNCH artists have made good use of it, Phil May and Mr. Raven-Hill in particular. Some of MR. PUNCH'S jokes against the Fenians, Home Rule, and Irish disloyalty have a bitterness that is quite unusual with him, but none of these are included in our pages, and he has at other times handled the same topics with his customary geniality and good-humoured satire. He makes the most of the Irishman's traditional weakness for "##bulls" whisky, fighting, and living with his pigs, but he gets an immense amount of variety out of these themes, and does not neglect to touch upon other typically Irish characteristics. If you have examples of the Irishman's blunderings, you have examples also of his ready wit and his amazing talent for blarney. We have thus in the present volume a delightful collection of Irish wit and high spirits. The happy-go-lucky characteristic of Pat is especially prominent in many of the jokes, and interpreting MR. PUNCH'S attitude towards the Irishman as one of admiration for his many excellent qualities, instead of regarding him as the "but" for English jokes, too often the notion of comic writers, the editor has sought to represent MR. PUNCH as the friend of Pat, sometimes his critic, but always his good humoured well-wisher, who laughs at him now and then, but as often with him. [Illustration: Mr Punch striding purposefully] MR. PUNCH'S IRISH HUMOUR [Illustration: Mr Punch, with quill pen, bowing to reader] THE IRISH YOLK.--In the name of the profit--eggs! Irish co-operators have already made giant strides in the production of milk and butter, and now the Irish Co-operative Agency has decided, so says the _Cork Daily Herald_, to "take up the egg trade." We hope the egg-traders won't be "taken up," too; if so, the trade would be arrested just when it was starting, and where would the profit be then? "It is stated that many Irish eggs now reach the English market dirty, stale, and unsorted," so that wholesale English egg-merchants have preferred to buy Austrian and French ones. Ireland not able to compete with the foreigner! Perish the thought! A little technical education judiciously applied will soon teach the Irish fowl not to lay "shop 'uns." * * * * * TANTALUS.--_Irish Waiter (to Commercial Gent, who had done a good stroke of business already)._ "Brikfast! Yessir. What'll ye have, yer honour--tay or coffee?" _Commercial Gent (hungry and jubilant)._ "Coffee and fried sole and mutton cutlet to follow!" _Waiter (satirically)._ "Annything ilse, surr?" _Commercial Gent._ "Yes, stewed kidneys. Ah and a savoury omelette!" _Waiter._ "Yessir. Annything----" _Commercial Gent._ "No, that will do----" _Waiter (with calm contempt)._ "And do ye expict to foind the loikes o' them things here? Sure, ye'll get what yez always got--bacon an' iggs!" * * * * * FROM AN IRISH REPORTER IN A TROUBLED DISTRICT.--"The police patrolled the street all night, but for all that there was no disturbance." * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. MacSimius._ "Well, Oi don't profess to be a particularly cultivated man meself; but at laste me progenitors were all educated in the hoigher branches!"] ERIN GO BRAGH DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I perceive that there is a movement on foot, initiated by the patriot Doogan, M.P., for teaching the Irish language to the youthful Redmonds and Healeys of the Emerald Isle. I am sorry that the Government has not acquiesced in the motion. I, myself, would bring in a measure compelling all Hibernian Members of Parliament to denounce (they never speak) in their native tongue. Just fancy the rapture with which they would inveigh in a language incapable of comprehension by a single Sassenach! And what a mighty relief to the other legislators! If necessary, the Speaker might be provided with an Anglo-Irish dictionary, or possibly a new post (open to Nationalists only) might be created, viz., Interpreter for Ireland. Trusting that my suggestion may be supported by you, I am, yours obediently, LINDLEY MURRAY WALKER _The College, Torkington-on-the-Marsh_. * * * * * [Illustration: _Usher (the Court having been much annoyed by the shuffling of feet)._ "Will ye hould yer tongues up there with yer feet in the gallery!"] [Illustration: _Irish Landlord (to his agent, who has been to London as a witness)._ "And did ye mix much in society, Murphy?" _Mr. Pat Murphy._ "Mix is it? Faix I did that, every night of the whole time, and they said they'd niver tasted anything like it!"] [Illustration: "Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Murphy? You look all broken up!" "Well, yer 'anner, I wint to wan iv thim 'shtop-the-war' meetings lasht noight!"] IRISH PROVERBS Every goose thinks his wife a duck. No news in a newspaper isn't good news. Manners make the gentleman, and the want of them drives him elsewhere for his shooting. A miss is as good as a mile of old women. Too many cooks spoil the broth of a boy. It's foolish to spoil one's dinner for a ha'porth of tarts. There are as fine bulls in Ireland as ever came out of it. Necessity has no law, but an uncommon number of lawyers. Better to look like a great fool, than to be the great fool you look. A soft answer may turn away wrath, but in a Chancery suit, a soft answer is only likely to turn the scales against you. One fortune is remarkably good until you have had another one told you. Don't halloa until you have got your head safe out of the wood, particularly at Donnybrook Fair. * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady (looking at new cob)._ "How does he go, Patrick?" _Irish Groom._ "The very best, m'lady! Sure it's only now and then he touches the ground in odd spots."] * * * * * Men of straw don't make the best bricks. It's a narrow bed that has no turning. When money is sent flying out of the window it's poverty that comes in at the door. The pig that pleases to live must live to please. One man may steal a hedge, whereas another daren't even as much as look at a horse. Short rents make long friends--and it holds good equally with your landlord and your clothes. The mug of a fool is known by there being nothing in it. You may put the carte before the horse, but you can't make him eat. Money makes the gentleman, the want of it the blackguard. When wise men fall out, then rogues come by what is not their own. * * * * * A BITTER BAD FRUIT.--A patriotic Irishman, expatiating eloquently upon the Lodge disturbances that were so repeatedly taking place in his country, exclaimed wildly: "By Jove, sir, you may call the Orange the Apple of Discord of Ireland." * * * * * [Illustration: _Irate Station-master._ "What the divil are ye waitin' for?" _Engine-driver._ "Can't ye see the signals is against me?" _Station-master._ "Is it the signals? Sure now, ye're gettin' mighty particular!"] [Illustration: _Paddy._ "Where will I catch the express for Dublin?" _Station-master._ "Ye'll catch it all over ye if ye don't get off the line mighty quick!"] [Illustration: A REGULAR TURK.--_Adjutant._ "Well, sergeant, how's your prisoner getting on?" _Sergeant of the Guard._ "Bedad, sor, he's the vi'lentest blaggyard I iver had to do wid! We're all in tirror iv our loives! Shure we're obliged to feed him wid fixed bay'nits!"] THE TALE OF A VOTE Bedad, 'twas meself was as plaised as could be When they tould me the vote had bin given to me. "St. Pathrick," ses Oi, "Oi'm a gintleman too, An' Oi'll dine ivry day off a grand Oirish stew." The words was scarce seen slippin' off of me tongue When who but the Colonel comes walkin' along! "Begorrah, 'tis callin' he's afther, the bhoy, Oi'm a gintleman now wid a vingeance," ses Oi. The Colonel come in wid an affable air, An' he sat down quite natteral-loike in a chair. "So, Rory," ses he, "'tis a vote ye've got now?" "That's thrue though ye ses it," ses Oi, wid a bow. "Deloighted!" ses he, "'tis meself that is glad, For shure ye're desarvin' it, Rory, me lad. An' how are ye goin' to use it?" ses he, "Ye could scarcely do betther than give it to me." Oi stared at the Colonel, amazed wid surprise. "What! Give it away, sorr?--Me vote, sorr?" Oi cries "D'ye think that Oi've waited ontil Oi am gray, An' now Oi'm jist goin' to give it away?" The Colonel he chuckled, an' "Rory," ses he. But "No, sorr," Oi answers, "ye don't diddle me." Thin he hum'd an' he haw'd, an' he started agin, But he'd met wid his equal in Rory O'Flynn. Thin the smoile died away, an' a frown come instead, But for all that he tould me, Oi jist shook me head, [Illustration: NOT QUITE THE SAME THING.--_Merciful Traveller._ "Your little horse has been going well. When do you bait him?" _Pat._ "Ah, shure, it's been a purty livel road, sor: but Oi'l have to bate him goin' up Sloggin Derry Hill, sor!"] An' he gnawed his moustache, an' he cursed an' he swore, But the more that he argued, Oi shook it the more. Thin he called me a dolt an' an ignorant fool, An' he said that Oi ought to go back to the school, An' he flew in a rage an' wint black in the face, An' he flung in a hullaballoo from the place. Bedad, Oi was startled. Him beggin' me vote, An' he'd three of his own too!--The gradiness o't! Ye could scarcely belave it onless it was thrue, An' him sittin' oop for a gintleman too! Was it betther he thought he could use it than Oi? Begorrah, Oi'll show he's mistaken, me bhoy. Oi'll hang it oop over me mantelpace shelf, For now that Oi've got it, Oi'll kape it meself. * * * * * IRISH METEOROLOGY.--There surely must be some constant cause existing whose agency maintains the chronic disaffection of Ireland. Perhaps it is some disturbing element ever present in the atmosphere. That may possibly be a predominance of O'Zone. * * * * * _Old Gentleman (who has not hurried over his Dinner, and has just got his Bill.)_ "Waiter, what's this? I'm charged here twopence for stationery. You know I've had none----" _Irish Waiter._ "Faix! yer honour, I don't know. Y'ave been sittin' here a long t-h-ime, anyhow!!" * * * * * [Illustration: THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE CHAIR.--_Chairman of the Home-Rule Meeting._ "'The chair' will not dispute the point with Misther O'Pummel----" _The O'Pummel._ "'The chair' had betther not, onless he loikes to stip out, and take his coat off!!" [_Confusion--exeunt fighting._ * * * * * THE HEADLESS MAN AGAIN.--_Stock-jobber (to new Irish clerk, who is working out the Bull and Bear list)._ "Hullo, why do you write "B" against your results?" _Clerk._ "Shure, sir, that's for "Bull," to distinguish them from "Bear."" * * * * * VERY IRISH RENDERING OF AN OLD SONG.--"'Tis my _day_light on a shiny night!" * * * * * A TASTE OF THE TIMES.--_Mr. Molony, Irish Farmer (to Mr. Flynn, the Agent)._ "Sure, I've come to ask yer honner to say a word to the masther for me, for the Black Boreen haulding." _Agent._ "No, Molony, the masther won't take a tenant without capital." _Mr. Molony._ "And is it capital? Sure, I've three hundred pounds in the bank this minit!" _Agent._ "Oh, I thought I saw your name to that petition for a reduction of rents, as you were all starving!" _Mr. Molony._ "Tare an' agers! Mr. Flynn, darlin'! Is the petition gone to the masther yet? If your honner could just give me a hoult av it, that I may sthrike my name out!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Tourist._ "Have you not got Scotch whiskey?" _Waiter (in an Irish hotel)._ "No, sorr, we don't kape it. And them as does only uses it to water down our own!"] [Illustration: "AS CLEAR AS MUD."--_Irish Waiter._ "An' will yer 'anner have an inside kyar or an outside kyar?" _Inexperienced Saxon._ "Oh, an outside car, of course; I don't want a covered conveyance; I want to see the country." _Irish Waiter._ "Oh, shure, nayther of 'em's covered." (_Closing door and preparing for a luminous explanation._) "It's this way, it is, sir. They call 'em inside kyars bekase the wheels is outside, an' they call 'em outside kyars by rason the wheels is inside!!"] [Illustration: A GOOD LISTENER.--_Reverend Gentleman._ "Well, Tim, did you leave the letter at the squire's?" _Tim._ "I did, your riv'rence. I b'lieve they're having dinner company to-day----" _Reverend Gentleman_ (_angrily_). "What business had you to be listening about? How often have I told you----" _Tim._ "Plaze your riv'rence, I only listened with my nose!!"] [Illustration: _O'Brien._ "Oh, murther aloive! Barney, come and help me! Pat has fallen into the mortar, and he's up to the ankles!" _McGeorge._ "Och, if he's only up to the ankles, he can walk out." _O'Brien._ "Oh, bedad, but he's in head first!"] [Illustration: _Irish Pat (to Bashful Bridget)._ "Look up, Bridget me darlin'. Shure an' I'd cut me head off ony day in the week for a sight of yer beautiful eyes!"] [Illustration: TRUSTWORTHY AUTHORITY _Host._ "Michael, didn't I tell you to decant the best claret?" _Michael._ "You did, sorr." _Host._ "But this isn't the best." _Michael._ "No, sorr; but it's the best you've got!"] [Illustration: "THE HARP IN THE AIR" _Irish Gentleman (who has vainly endeavoured to execute a jig to the fitful music of the telegraph wires)._ "Shure! whoiver y'are ye can't play a bit! How can a jintleman dance--(_hic!_)--iv ye don't kape thime?"!! * * * * * The Cockney who said he valued Switzerland for its mountain hair has a supporter in a writer in the _Irish Independent_, who remarks: "There are many mountains in the country now bare and desolate, whose brows, if whiskered with forests, would present a striking appearance." * * * * * GEOGRAPHICAL CATECHISM.--_Q._ What do we now call the Isle of Patmos? _A._ Ireland. * * * * * REFRESHMENT FOR MAN AND BEAST.--_Traveller in Ireland (who has been into a shebeen)._ "But are you not going to bait the horse?" _Pat._ "Is it bate him? Sure, and didn't I bate him enough coming along?" * * * * * _Irish Gent (paying debt of honour.)_ "There's the sovereign ye kindly lint me, Brown. I'm sorry I haven't been able----" Saxon (_pocketing the coin_). "Never thought of it from that day to---- By Jove! 'forgot all about it----" _Irish Gent._ "Bedad! I wish ye'd tould me that before!" * * * * * [Illustration: _Surgeon (examining in the practical methods of reviving the apparently drowned)._ "Now, how long would you persevere in those motions of the arms?" _Bluejacket (from the Emerald Isle)._ "Until he was dead, sir!"] [Illustration: _Squire (rather perplexed)._ "Hullo, Pat! Where did you get the hare?" _Pat._ "Shure, surr, the cr'atur' was wand'rin' about, an' I thought I'd take't to the 'Wanes'!" _Squire._ "But did the keeper see you?" _Pat._ "Bliss yer honour, I've been lookin' for him iver since I caught it!!"] [Illustration: WAITING FOR THE LANDLORD.--_Ribbonman (getting impatient)._ "Bedad, they ought to be here by this toime! Sure, Tirince, I hope the ould gintleman hasn't mit wid an accidint!!!"] AN IRISH "BRADSHAW" (SCENE--_Westland Row Station, Dublin_) _British Swell to Native Inhabitant_ (_loq._). "Haw, haw, pray will you direct me the shortest way to Baggot Street, haw?" _Native Inhabitant._ "Baggit Street, yer honor, yis, yer honor, d' see that sthreet just forninst ye? Well, goo oop that, toorn nayther to yer right nor to yer lift, till ye khoom to the foorst toorn, and when ye khoom to the foorst toorn, don't toorn down that ayther, but walk sthrait on and that'll lade ye to the place _Igs-actly_." _Supercilious Saxon._ "Haw, thank yaw, haw!" (_And walks off more mystified than ever._) * * * * * IRISH VACCINATION.--Professor Gamgee says that, owing to the vagrant cur nuisance, "Hydrophobia in man is increasing in Ireland." This fact is one which hom[oe]opathy may suggest some reason for not altogether deploring. The canine _virus_ and the vaccine may be somewhat analogous; and, if like cures like, many a happy cure may be effected by a mad dog biting a rabid Irishman. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irishman (whose mate has just fallen overboard with the bucket while swabbing decks)._ "Plaze, captin, do ye rimimber that Scotchie ye tuk aboard the same toime as ye did me? I mane him wot had the lot o' good character papers, an' me that niver had a blissid wan?" _Captain._ "Well?" _Irishman._ "Well--_he's off wid yer pail!_"] [Illustration: "Just make it a couple of shillings, captain dear!"--"No!" "Eighteenpence then, major!"--"No!" "Och thin, colonel darling, just threppence for a glass o' whiskey!"--"_No_, I tell you!" "Git out wid ye thin, ye boa conshthructor, sure an' I know'd ye all the toime!" [_N.B._--_The fare is the head of an eminent firm of furriers in Kilconan Street, and cultivates a martial appearance_ ] [Illustration: CIRCUMLOCUTORY.--_The Parson (who likes to question the boys, now and then, in a little elementary science)._ "Now, can any of you tell me--Come, I'll ask you, Donovan,--What is salt?" _Irish boy._ "Iv y' plaze, sir,--it's--it's"--(_after a desperate mental effort_)--"it's the stuff that--makes a p'taytor very nasty 'v ye don't ate 't with 't!"] PADDY TO HIS PIG Och! Piggy dear, an' did ye hear The thraitors what they say? The rint is due, an' oh! 'tis you, Me darlin', that's to pay. So you, whose squale is music rale To me--the rascals hint That you must doi, an' plaise, for whoy?-- The landlord wants his rint! But no, me jew'l! Oi'm not so cru'l, To kill an' murther dead The chum that's ate out ov me plate, An' shared the fam'ly bed. Oi would be loike a fool to stroike A frind to plaise a foe-- If one must doi, why then, says Oi, The landlord, he must go. * * * * * AN IRISH NATIONAL SCHOOL-LESSON.-- _Master._ Spell "Patriotism." _Scholar._ P-a-t, "Pat;" r-i-o-t, "riot;" i-s-m "ism." _Master._ Now spake it together. _Scholar._ Pat-riot-ism. _Master._ Ah, then, it's the good boy you are entirely. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irishman (who has run up a score at the inn, to firemen)._ "Play on the slate, bhoys!"] [Illustration: AN IRISH DIFFICULTY.--_Pat ("the morning after," reading prescription)._ "'Dissolve wan of the powdhers in half a tumbler of wather, an' th' other powdher in another half tumbler of wather. Mix, an' dhrink whoile efferveshin'.' What'll Oi do? Whoy the div'l didn't he say which Oi was to mix furrst?"] [Illustration: _The Colonel._ "Mr. Moriarty, I received this morning a most offensive anonymous letter, and, from certain indications, I am compelled reluctantly to ask you if you know anything about it." _Moriarty._ "An anonymous letter? Whoy, _Oi'd scorn to put my name to such a thing_."] [Illustration: QUITE ANOTHER THING _Paddy_ (_the loser_). "Arrah g'long! I said I'd lay you foive to wan, but I wasn't goin' to bet my ha'f-crown agin your tath'rin little sixpence!" [_Exeunt fighting._ ] [Illustration: MAKING THINGS PLEASANT.--_Irishman_ (_to English Sportsman_). "Is it throuts? Be jabers, the watther's stiff wid 'em!!!" [_"Regardless of strict truth, in his love of hyperbole and generous desire to please," as our friend recorded in his diary after a blank day._ ] [Illustration: A BREATH FROM THE FAR WEST "Can I go a yard nearer on my side, as I've lost the sight of me one eye intirely?" [Illustration: _"Pat" Junior (in answer to question by Saxon Tourist)._ "There's foive of us, yer honour, an' the baby." _Saxon._ "And are you the eldest?" _"Pat" Junior._ "I am, yer honour--at prisent!!"] [Illustration: _Irish Groom._ "Will ye send up two sacks of oats an' a bundle av hay." _Voice from Telephone._ "Who for?" _Irish Groom._ "The harse, av coorse, ye fool!"] [Illustration: INS AND OUTS _Irish Innkeeper (to "Boots," &c.)._"H'where's Biddee? Out, is she? Bad luck to the hussy! She'll go out twinty toimes for wonce she'll come in!"] [Illustration: "IRISH" _Polite Young Man._ "Perhaps you feel a draught, madam?" _Old Lady._ "No, sir, not this side. I'm always careful to sit with my back facing the engine!"] [Illustration: WOKE UP "'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I heard him complain."--_Watts._ _Boots._ "Eight o'clock, surr!" _Voice (from the deeps)._ "Why didn't ye tell me that before, confound you!"] RULES FOR HOME-RULERS The following regulations, to be observed in the Irish Parliament when it meets on College Green, are under consideration:-- 1. The Speaker shall not speak except when he is talking. 2. Such terms as "thief of the wurruld," "spalpeen," "nager," "villian," "polthroon," "thraytor," "omadhawn," &c., and such epithets as "base," "brutal," "bloody-minded," and others named in the schedule to these regulations, shall be considered unparliamentary, except when used in the heat of debate. 3. An Annual Budget shall be presented to the House once a quarter. 4. Shilelaghs, revolvers, and pikes, shall not be introduced into the House, except when accompanied by a Member. 5. A Member shall be bound to attend every debate. A Member, however, shall be excused if he gets up in his place in the House and announces that he would be present were he not ill at home in bed. * * * * * [Illustration: SCENE--_An Irish Station. Fair Day_ _Porter._ "An what the divil are ye doin', tying that donkey up there?" _Pat (slightly under the influence, taking his new purchase home)._ "Shure an' I've a perfect right to! Haven't I taken a ticket for the baste!"] * * * * * 6. A quorum shall consist of forty Members. Should a count-out be demanded, Members who have been engaged in personal altercation, shall be included unless they are sufficiently conscious to utter "Erin go Bragh!" thrice distinctly. 7. Duels will be strictly forbidden. Should any Member, however, think proper to break this rule, it will be considered a breach of privilege if he does not invite the Speaker and the whole House to see the fun. 8. There will be only one Speaker; but two or more Members may be elected to the post. 9. Only one Member shall address the House at a time, except when two or more wish to speak at once, in which case they shall not interrupt each other. 10. A Member when addressing the House shall not wear his hat unless he has got it on his head before rising, when he shall remove it on any Member directing the Speaker's attention to the fact. 11. Under no consideration whatever will the consumption of any spirits be permitted in the House. This rule does not apply to whiskey, gin, brandy, and the French liqueurs. 12. As only the most elegant Dublin English will be spoken in the House, no Provincial brogue can be tolerated. To this rule there will be no exception. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irish Nurse._ "Now thin, mum, wake up an' take yer sleepin' dhraught!"] * * * * * PAT'S TRUE BREAKFAST CHRONOMETER.--"Sure, me stomach in the early morning is as good as a watch to me. I always know when _it wants 'something to ate.'_" * * * * * A BROAD HINT.--_English Traveller (to Irish Railway Porter labelling luggage)._ "Don't you keep a brush for that work, porter?" _Porter._ "Shure, your honour, our tongues is the only insthruments we're allowed. But they're asy kep' wet, your honour?" [_Hint taken!_ * * * * * IRISH HOUSEKEEPING.--_Bachelor._ "Mary, I should like that piece of bacon I left at dinner yesterday." _Irish Servant._ "Is it the bit o' bhacon thin? Shure I took it to loight the fhoires!" * * * * * [Illustration: AN EVENING'S FISHING (BEHIND THE DISTILLERY AT SLIGO).--_First Factory Lad._ "Dom'nick, did ya get e'er a bite at all?" _Second Ditto._ "Sorra wan, Pat. Only wan small wan!" _First Ditto._ "Yerrah! Lave it there, an' come home. Shure you'll get more than that in bed!"] [Illustration: EXPENDED.--_Guest._ "Will you give me a little champagne?" _Hibernian Waiter._ "Shumpane, sor? Bedad, I've had none meself this two hours!"] [Illustration: "OPPRISSION."--_Landlord._ "Tut-t-t! 'O'bless my soul! This must be seen to, Flannigan! The cabin positively isn't fit to live in! Why, you're ankle-deep in----" _Pat._ "Och sure, sor, it's a mighty convanient house, an' that's an iligant spring in the flure, sor. No throuble to go outside for watter whatever!!"] [Illustration: RATHER TOO LITERAL.--_Country Gentleman (in a rage)._ "Why, what have you been up to, you idiot? You've let him down, and----" _New Groom._ "Yes, yer honner, ye tould me to break him; an' bruk he is, knees an' all, worse luck!"] [Illustration: "READY, AYE READY!" _Officer "Royal Irish."_ "Why were you late in barracks last night, Private Atkins?" _Private Atkins._ "Train from London was very late, sir." _Officer._ "Very good. Next thime the thrain's late, take care y' come by an earlier one!"] [Illustration: _Irish Dealer._ "Ach, begorra, would ye run over the cushtomers? Sure, it's scarce enough they are!"] [Illustration: SUPEREROGATION.--_Humanitarian._ "Couldn't you manage to put a little more flesh on your poor horses' bones? He's frightfully thin!" _Car-driver._ "Bedad, surr, what's the use o' that? The poor baste can hardly carry what he's got a'ready!"] [Illustration: _Mrs. O'Brady._ "Shure oi want to bank twinty pounds. Can I draw it out quick if I want it?" _Postmaster._ "Indade, Mrs. O'Brady, you can draw it out to morrow if you give me a wake's notice!"] [Illustration: _It is necessary in some parts of Ireland for carmen to have their names legibly written on the tailboard of the car. Inspector._ "What's the meanin' of this, Pat? Your name's o-bliterated." _Pat._ "Ye lie--it's O'Brien!"] PRESIDENT PAT (_From the forthcoming History of Parliament_) One blow and Ireland sprang from the head of her Saxon enslaver a new Minerva! Proudly and solemnly she then sat down to frame a Republic worthy of Plato and Pat. Her first president had been a workhouse porter and a night watchman. He was, therefore, eminently fitted both for civil and military administration. The speech of President Pat on opening Congress develops his policy and his well-digested plans of legislative reform. Here are a few choice quotations:-- The key-stone of Government is the blarney stone. Political progress may always be accelerated by a bludgeon. Our institutions must be consolidated by soft soap and whacks. The people's will is made known by manifesto, and by many fists too. [Illustration: _Clerk._ "Return?" _Pat._ "Phwat for ud Oi be wantin' a returrn ticket when Oi'm here already?"] Every man shall be qualified to sit in Congress that is a 10 lb. pig-holder, provided that the pig and the member sleep under the same roof. Members of Congress will be remunerated for their public services. Gentlemen wearing gloves only to have the privilege of shaking the president's hand. The unwashed to be paid at the door. Pipes will not be allowed on the Opposition benches, nor may any member take whiskey until challenged by the president. Under no circumstances will a member be suffered to sit with his blunderbuss at full-cock, nor pointed at the president's ear. Our ambassadors will be chosen from our most meritorious postmen, so that they may have no difficulty in reading their letters. The Foreign Office will be presided over by a patriotic editor who has travelled in New South Wales and is thoroughly conversant with its language. Instead of bulwarks, the island will be fortified by Irish bulls; our military engineers being of opinion that no other horn-works are so efficient or necessary. To prevent heart-burnings between landlord and tenant, a Government collector of rents will be appointed, and tenant-right shall include a power to shoot over the land, and at any one on it.--_Punch_, 1865. * * * * * [Illustration: THE TRIUMPHS OF TEMPER.--_Fare (out of patience at the fourth "jib" in a mile)._ "Hi, this won't do! I shall get out!" _Cabby (through the trap, in a whisper)._ "Ah thin, sor, niver mind her! Sit still! Don't give her the satisfaction av knowin' she's got rid av ye!!"] * * * * * "MASTER'S away from home, sir. Would you please to leave your name?" "Faix, an' what should I be lavin' me name forr, bedad! when he knows me quite well?" * * * * * RATHER MIXED.--The following is from _The Irish Times_ on "Landslips":--"To feel the solid earth rock beneath his feet, to have his natural foothold on the globe's surface swept, so to speak, out of his grasp, is to the stoutest heart of man terrifying in the extreme." * * * * * FROM IRELAND.--Good name for an auctioneer's wife--Biddy. * * * * * HIBERNIAN ARITHMETIC Shure multiplication--of chiefs--_is_ vexation, But faix, there is fun in substhraction. Addition will you knit with me as one unit, And unity flabberghasts faction. As for rule o' three!--betther one, and that me! The wise, and the sthrong, and the clever! But till _Oi_'m up top, and all over the shop, I'll cry, "Long division for iver!" * * * * * [Illustration: ECONOMY.--_Pat._ "And ye say, if I take this one, I'll save ha'f the fuul? Bedad!"--(_struck with a bright idea_)--"I'll take a pair of 'em--and save it all--!!"] [Illustration: _Fisherman (beginner)._ "Don't you think, Peter, I've improved a good deal since I began?" _Peter (anxious to pay a compliment)._ "You have, sorr. But sure it was aisy for _you_ to improve, sorr!"] [Illustration: _Irish Bag Carrier (commenting on the crack shot of the party)._ "Sure, thin, and I do not think much av him! Ivery lot o' birds he'll be afther firin' both barrels of his gun, and divil a one he kills but two!"] [Illustration: GROVES OF BLARNEY.--"And it's a perfect miracle the sounds ye manage to extract from that old tin kettle, Miss Cecilia; sure we don't hear the dumb notes at all!"] [Illustration: A MISUNDERSTANDING.--_His Master._ "Did you take those boots of mine to be soled, Larry?" _Irish Valet._ "I did, sor, and see the thrifle the blag'yard gave me for'm!--'said they were purty nigh wore through!!"] [Illustration: IRISH INGENUITY.--_Saxon Tourist._ "What on earth are you lowering the shafts for?" (_He has just found out that this man[oe]uvre is gone through at every ascent._) _Car-Driver._ "Shure, yer 'onner, we'll make 'm b'lave he's goin' down hill!"] [Illustration: TRANSPOSITION.--_Irish Sergeant._ "Mark time! Change your stip, that man!" _Recruit._ "If ye plaze surr----" _Sergeant._ "Silence--an' fall out at oncet an' change your feet!"] [Illustration: REMINISCENCES OF HEDGE-FIRING _Itinerant Photographer (from under the cloth)._ "Will you keep quiet? How do you suppose----" _Subject (who is evading the focus)._ "Be jabers, man! will I sit still to be shot at?!!"] [Illustration: "IN EXTREMIS."--Pat. "Do ye buy rags and bones here?" _Merchant._ "We do, surr." _Pat._ "Thin, be jabers! put me on the schkales!!"] [Illustration: THE VERDICT.--_First Irishman (waiting in the corridor--to his friend, rushing in from the Court)._ "What's Tim got?" _Second Irishman (in a breathless whisper)._ "For loife!" _First Irishman._ "For loife!" (_With emotion._) "Och shure, he won't live half the thoime!!"] [Illustration: _One of the Finest Pisantry (in custody, having had a shillelagh difference with a fellow-countryman)._ "Shure! Mayn't Oi see me frind aff b' the thrain, sorr?"] [Illustration: _Lady_. "I was awfully sorry, professor, I was unable to come to your lecture last night. Were there many there?" _The Professor_ (_Irish_). "Um--well--not so many as I expected. But I never thought there would be!"] HOW TO MAKE AN IRISH STORY Lay your scene principally in Galway, and let your chief characters be the officers of a regiment of Dragoons. Represent them as habitual drunkards, as duellists, and as practical jokers; but take care to exclude from their tricks everything like wit. Introduce as frequently as possible, with the necessary variation only of time, place, and circumstance, a tipsy brawl, with a table oversetting in the midst of it, and a ragamuffin with a great stick in his hand, capering thereon. Do not omit to mention the bottles and glasses that whistle, during this performance, about his ears, nor the chairs and fire-irons which are used by the surrounding combatants; and under the table fail not to place your comic character; for instance, your priest. Upset mail coaches, and make horses run away with their riders continually: and be careful, having bribed some clever artist to prostitute his talents, to have all these intellectually humorous scenes illustrated, in that your readers may fully appreciate the only jokes they are likely to understand. Put "an affair of honour" into about every other chapter; and for the credit and renown of your country, you being an Irishman, exhibit it as conducted with the most insensate levity. Indeed, in furtherance of this object, depict your countrymen in general as a set of irrational, unfeeling, crazy blockheads; only, not having sense enough to be selfish, as lavish and prodigal in the extreme. Never mind your plot, but string adventure upon adventure, without sequence or connexion; just remembering to wind up with a marriage. For example, your hero may shoot some old gentleman through the head--or hat--and run away with his niece, an heiress. Whenever you are at a loss for fun--that is, when you find it impracticable to tumble or knock one another down--throw yourself on your brogue, and introduce--"Arrah! now, honey, be aisy." "Long life to yer honour, sure, and didn't I?" "Is it praties, ye mane?" "Sorrow a bit." "_Musha!_" "_Mavourneen!_" and the like phrases (having the interjectional ones printed in italics, that their point may be the more obvious), which you will find excellent substitutes for wit. Your tale, thus prepared, take it to some publisher, and let him serve it up monthly to the unintelligent portion of the public with puff sauce. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irish Manservant (who has been requested by a guest to procure him a bluebottle for fishing purposes--returning from his quest)._ "If ye plaze, sorr, would a green soda-water bottle be what ye're wantin'?"] NEW AIR FOR ORANGE BANDS.--"Down, down, derry, down!" * * * * * WHO were the original bogtrotters? The _Fen_ians. * * * * * HIBERNIAN ORDER.--An Irish correspondent informs us that in Tipperary tumult is the order of the day. * * * * * ADVICE TO IRISH TENANTS.--Instead of taking "just a drain"--"Just take to draining." * * * * * AN IRISH REASON FOR FIXITY OF TENURE. MR. PUNCH, SIRR,--Why wouldn't you "fix" Irish _tinants_? Sure Irish _landlords_ is in a divil of a fix already. Your constant reader, RORY O'MORE. * * * * * A DISCLOSURE which can only be made in words certainly "tending to a breach of the peace":--One Irishman disclosing his religion to another. * * * * * [Illustration: _Tourist (who has just given Pat a drink from his flask)._ "That's a drop of good whiskey--eh, Pat?" _Pat._ "Faith, ye may well say that, sorr. Shure, it wint down my t'roat loike a torchlight procession!"] [Illustration: MISPLACED MERRIMENT _Irish Doctor (who was a great believer in a little "playful badinage")._ "Oh dear! oh dear! an' what a tarrible depressin' soight ye've gone an' made ov yersilf! What is ut now, is ut a '_tableau v[e]evant_' ye're playin' at, or what?" [_Further attendance dispensed with._ ] [Illustration: A FAILURE! _Irish Contributor (at a "check")._ "By the powers--'wish I hadn't bought this thype-writer-r--'t cann't spell a bit!"] [Illustration: _Editor of Libellous Rag (who has just received a terrific but well-deserved kick)._ "Dud you mane thot?" _Colonel McMurder._ "Yis, Oi _dud_, you thunderin' villain!" _Editor._ "Oh, very well, thot's all _roight_. Oi t'ought it moight av been wan o' thim prac-ta-cle jokes!"] [Illustration: _Irish Emigrant (emerging from the steerage, feebly)._ "Where's the sails? What is it makes the ship go along?" _Fellow Passenger._ "This ain't no sailing ship. This is a steam ship, this is. Fifteen thousand horse-power." _Irish Emigrant._ "Fifteen thousand horses! Think of that, now! And where's the _shtablin'_?"] * * * * * A NEW FORM OF D.T.--_The Irish Curate_ (_to the New Vicar_). "That poor man, sir, has always got a skeleton just in front of him that follows him about wherever he goes!" * * * * * FROM the _Cork Constitution_:--"The friends of a respectable young widow want to get her housekeeping in a respectable widower's family; understands her business." There seems a certain want of _finesse_ in this latter statement. * * * * * THE IRISH BULL IN INDIA.--For sale.--Eleven elephants, male and female, priced low to effect speedy sale. Full particulars from Pat Doyle, No. 11, Brooking Street, Rangoon. _Note._--Four of the above have been sold.--(From the _Rangoon Gazette_.) * * * * * CONFUSION OF IDEAS.--The man who said that he was so particular about his bacon that he never ventured on a rasher without first seeing the pig which had supplied it, must have been an Irishman. * * * * * THE WAX-CHANDLERS' PARADISE.--Wicklow county. * * * * * [Illustration: _Mr. O'Rorke (who has been quarrelling with a visitor)._ "Now, remember, Jane, the next time you let that man in you're to shut the door in his face!"] [Illustration: _Policeman (examining broken window)._ "Begorra, but it's more sarious thin Oi thought it was. It's broke on _both sides_!"] [Illustration: "PRIMA FACIE."--_Magistrate._ "The evidence shows that you threw a stone at this man." _Mrs. O'Hooligan._ "Faith, then, the looks o' the baste shows better 'n that, yer honour. They shows I 'it 'im!"] [Illustration: _During hot weather. Sudden shower of rain.--Irish Visitor._ "Ah, now this _is_ welcome! An hour's rain like this will do more good in five minutes than a week of it!"] [Illustration: SCENE--_Cottage in West of Ireland during a rainstorm._ _Tourist._ "Why don't you mend those big holes in the roof?" _Pat._ "Wud your honour have me go out an' mend it in all this rain?" _Tourist._ "No. But you could do it when it is fine." _Pat._ "Shure, your honour, there's no need to do it thin!"] * * * * * "NOT KILT, BUT SPACHELESS"--At Clonakilty Sessions the other day, the following evidence was given:-- "Patrick Feen was examined, and stated he resided at Dunnycove, parish of Ardfield.... Gave defendant's brother a blow of his open hand and knocked him down for fun, and out of friendship. (_Laughter._)" What a good-natured, open-handed friend Mr. Patrick Feen must be! John Hegarty, the person assaulted, corroborated the account, and added-- "When he was knocked down, he stopped there. (_Laughter._)" In fact, he "held the field," and "remained in possession of the ground." Who will now say that the old humour is dying out in Erin? * * * * * A CONSTANT DROPPING.--_Father Sullivan (watching Murphy of the Blazers, who has again come to grief at a wall)._ Bedad, he'll soon have quarried a gap in ivery wall in Galway. He goes no faster than Donovan's hearse, and he falls over ivery obsthacle he encounthers. _Father O'Grady._ Faith, ye're right there. Murphy cavat lapidem non vi sed saypy cadendo! * * * * * [Illustration: "DE PROFUNDIS."--_Pat (after a sip)._ "An' which did ye put in first--the whisky or the wather?" _Domestic._ "The whisky, av coorse." _Pat._ "Ah thin maybe I'll be coming to 't bye-'n-bye!"] [Illustration: LUCID!--_Irish Sergeant (to squad at judging-distance drill)._ "Now, ye'll pay the greates of attintion to the man at eight hundred yr-rds: becase, if ye can't see 'm, ye'll be deceived in his 'apparance!!"] [Illustration: HIBERNIAN VERACITY.--_Paterfamilias (with his family in Ireland)._ "Have you any West India pickles waiter?" _Paddy._ "We've not, sor." _Paterfamilias._ "No hot pickles of any description?" _Paddy._ "No; shure they're all cowld, sor."] [Illustration: "IT IS SOMETIMES DANGEROUS TO INQUIRE" _Old Poet_ _Inquisitive Tourist._ "And how do you find the crops this year, Murphy?" _Murphy._ "How do I find the crops is it? Sure, your honour, 'tis by digging for 'em, any way!"] * * * * * MINERALOGICAL DISCOVERY BY AN IRISHMAN.--How to turn brass into gold:--"Marry an heiress." * * * * * [Illustration: THE WRONGS OF IRELAND _Bloated Saxon._ "But surely, is it not the fact that of late years the number of absentees among the Irish landholders is not so large as----" _Irish Guest._ "Oi big y'r par-r-d'n, sor! 'Give ye me wor-rd 'f honour-r me unhappee countree _swa-ar-rms_ with 'm 't th' pris'nt t-hime!!"] * * * * * ALL BLACKS ALL FORLORN.--_Irishman (on hearing of the high prices offered for tickets for a big football match)._ Sure, thin, everybody 'll be after sellin' their tickets and it's nobody there at all there 'll be! * * * * * [Illustration: _Nurse._ "Bridget, come here and see a French baby born in Dublin." _Bridget._ "Poor little darlint! It's a great perplexity you'll be to yourself, I'm thinkin', when you begin shpeakin'!"] [Illustration: "RELAPSE."--_Squire._ "Why, Pat, what are you doing, standing by the wall of the public-house? I thought you were a teetotaller!" _Pat._ "Yes, yer honnor. I'm just listenin' to them impenitent boys drinking inside!"] EXTRACTS FROM THE IRISH HUE AND CRY Tony Gowan is advertised of having lost "a pig with a very long tail, and a black spot on the tip of its snout that curls up behind." A cow is described as "very difficult to milk, and of no use to anyone but the owner, with one horn much longer than the other." John Hawkins is alluded to as having "a pair of quick grey eyes, with little or no whiskers, and a Roman nose, that has a great difficulty in looking any one in the face." Betsy Waterton is accused of having "absconded with a chest of drawers and a cock and hen, and has red hair and a broken tooth, none of which are her own." The manager of the savings' bank at Dunferry, near Goofowran, is spoken of in these terms: "He had on, when last seen, a pair of corduroy trousers with a tremendous squint rather the worse for wear, besides an affected lisp, which he endeavours to conceal with a pair of gold spectacles." * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. O'Flannigan (to husband, who has had india-rubber heels to his boots)._ "Now you sound just like a policeman walking; for, bedad, I can't hear you at all, at all!"] * * * * * A burglar has his portrait taken in the following manner:--"He has little or no hair, but black eyes on a turned-up nose, which is dyed black to conceal its greyness." * * * * * "THIS BOLDNESS BRINGS RELIEF."--_Massinger. Irish "Boy" (to benevolent Old Gentleman)._ "Maybe yer honour'll give a poor boy something. Sure, it's a dissolute orphin, and deaf and dumb, I am!" _Absent-minded Old Gentleman (putting his hand in his pocket)._ "Poor fellow!" * * * * * A DUBLIN grocer advertises his butter thus: Best Danish 1_s._ 2_d._ Best Creamery 1_s._ 3_d._ No Better 1_s._ 4_d._ * * * * * MORE "REVENGE FOR THE UNION."--_Saxon Tourist (at Irish Railway Station)._ "What time does the half-past eleven train start, Paddy?" _Porter._ "At thrutty minutes to twilve--sharrup, sor!" [_Tourist retires up, discomfited._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Mrs. Malone._ "Why, Pat, what's that ye've got? Is it Moriarty that's insulted ye?" _Pat._ "He has, begorrah! But he'll have to wait a week!"] [Illustration: THE UNEMPLOYED QUESTION AGAIN _The Rector._ "Now, my good man, if you go up to the harvest field, I am sure you will get work." _Tramping Tim._ "Bedad, sor, it's not work I'm wantin', it's nourishment."] * * * * * "LUCUS A NON," &c.--_Visitor._ "How long has your master been away?" _Irish Footman._ "Well, sorr, if he'd come home yistherday, he'd a' been gone a wake to-morrow but ev he doesn't return the day afther, shure he'll a' been away a fortnight next Thorsday"!! * * * * * [Illustration: ECONOMY OF LABOUR _Young Softroe (who is trying to pick up bargains in polo ponies)._ "Nice pony, but seems inclined to rest that foreleg, don't you know." _Irish Coper._ "And wasn't that phwat I was tellin' ye now! That's a little horse that's always got a leg to spare. Sure, isn't that the very wan he's restin' now against the time he'll be wantin' ut?"] * * * * * _Zoological Specialist (gazing at solitary sea-lion in the Dublin Zoo)._ Where's his mate? _Irish Keeper._ He has no mate, sorr. We just fade him on fish. * * * * * A POINT TO THE GOOD.--SCENE--_Immediately after a Point-to-Point Race_--_Friend (to Rider of Winner)._ "By Jove, old chap, that was a close race! Thought you were beaten just on the post." _Rider_ (_Irish_). "Faith, me boy, that dimonstrates the advantage of a big horse; for, if ye saw the tail of him a thrifle behind, shure the other end of him was a wee bit in front?" * * * * * CONFESSION IN CONFUSION.--_Priest._ "Now, tell me, Doolan, truthfully, how often _do_ you go to chapel?" _Pat._ "Will, now, shure, oi'll till yer riv'rince the trut'. Faix, I go as often as I can avoid!" * * * * * _School Inspector (anxious to explain the nature of a falsehood)._ Now, supposing I brought you a canary, and told you it was blue, what would that be? _Student (with taste for natural history)._ Please, sir, a tomtit. * * * * * IRISH ITEM.--There have been floods in Cork. Cork, as usual, kept afloat notwithstanding. * * * * * [Illustration: ALLOPATHY.--_Paddy (he has brought a prescription to the chemist, who is carefully weighing a very minute portion of calomel)._ "Oi beg yer pardon, sor, but y'are mighty nare wid that mid'cine! And--(_coaxingly_)--I may tell ye--'tis for a poor motherliss child!!"] [Illustration: "THE POSTMASTER ABROAD AGAIN" _Pat (to clerk)._ "Surr! I sint tin shillings to me brother through the post, an' he tills me"--(_fuming_)--"he niver got 't!!" _Clerk (calmly)._ "At what office did you get the order?" _Pat._ "Shure, thin, it was to yoursilf I gave the money, an' be jabers I've got yer receipt for 't!" (_Produces money order in a fury._) "Look at that, now!!"] [Illustration: INCORRIGIBLE! _Irish Attorney (to his clerk, who has taken the blue ribbon, and has been "celebrating the event")._ "I'll not stand it, surr! Wid yer plidges! Instid o' takin' plidges ye're always breakin', ye'd better make no promises at-all-at-all--and kape 'em!!"] [Illustration: THE WONDERS OF SCIENCE.--_The Principal (from the City, through the telephone, to the foreman at the "Works")._ "How do you get on, Pat?" _Irish Foreman (in great awe of the instrument)._ "Very well, sir. The goods is sent off." _The Principal (knowing Pat's failing)._ "What have you got to drink there?" _Pat (startled)._ "Och! look at that now! It's me breath that done it!"] [Illustration: "Age cannot wither--nor custom stale His infinite variety"! _Paddy (to fellow-passenger)._ "Oi'm siventy years of age, and ivery wan o' my teeth as perfect as the day I was born, sor!"] [Illustration: _Mr. Moriarty._ "Look here, Ada, how much longer, for goodness sake, are ye goin' to be dressin' yourself?" _Voice from the heights._ "Only ten minutes, dear!" _Mr. Moriarty._ "Well, all I can say is, if I've got to wait here ten minutes, I'll--I'll be off this blessed moment!"] [Illustration: _Mick ("boots" at the Ballyragg Hotel, knocking at visitor's door at four a.m.)._ "Fwhat toime wud ye wish to be called this morrnun', sorr?"] PUNCH'S FOLK-LORE ST. PATRICK'S DAY The season of spring gives us lamb and violets, salmon and patron saints. St. David and St. Patrick are commemorated in March, St. George only waits until April. (Of this last-named saint a very careful notice has for some time been in preparation, to include six autobiographical anecdotes of his boyish days, a selection from his unpublished correspondence with his laundress, and an authentic portrait of his chief antagonist--the Dragon.) [Illustration: SUNDAY AT THE ZOO.--"Excuse me, sorr; but can ye direct me to the goin' out intrance?"] St. Patrick's Day! the heart leaps up with uncontrolled delight, and a flood of popular airs comes rushing o'er the brain. What reminiscences of by-gone days invade the territory of the mind! All the population of Dublin, headed by the Lord-Lieutenant and Ulster King-at-Arms, abroad at daybreak, looking for four-leaved shamrocks in the Ph[oe]nix Park, and singing Moore's _Melodies_ in unison; an agreeable mixture of whiskey and water provided in unlimited quantities in every market town in Ireland, the expense of the water being defrayed out of the Consolidated Fund; the Lord Mayor of Dublin presented with a new shillelagh of polished oak, bound with brass, purchased by the united contributions of every grown-up citizen bearing the name of Patrick; the constabulary in new boots; a public dinner on the Blarney Stone, and a fancy-dress ball on the Wicklow Mountains! These are but a few of the marks of distinction showered on this memorable day by Erin's grateful sons and daughters, who owe to St. Patrick two of the greatest distinctions that ever befell them--freedom from serpents, snakes, scorpions, efts, newts, tadpoles, chameleons, salamanders, daddy-long-legs, and all other venomous reptiles, and instruction in six lessons, in "the true art of mixing their liquor, an art," it has been well observed, "which has never since been lost." This leaning of the Saint to potheen is viewed, however, by one section of the community with manifest displeasure--the Temperance and Teetotal Societies--who remain indoors the whole of the day with the blinds closely drawn down and straw in front of their houses, and employ paid emissaries to distribute tracts amongst their excitable countrymen. [Illustration: _Irish porter (thrusting his head into a compartment as the train stops at small, dingy, ill-lit country station)._ "Is thur annybody there for here?"] The notorious fact that St. Patrick lived to be considerably more than a hundred, cut a wisdom tooth at ninety-eight, never had a day's illness in his life, was possessed of funded property, and could see to read without spectacles until within six weeks of his untimely end (caused by a fall from a cherry tree), speaks libraries for the tonic and salubrious qualities of that stimulating spirit, which has ever since his day been known and highly appreciated under the name of "L.L.," or Long Livers' Whiskey. A curious custom is kept up by the Knights of the Order of St. Patrick (founded by King Brian Boroo the Fourteenth) on the morning of this day, the origin of which is lost among the wilds of Connemara. Before it is light the Knights all go up in their robes and shamrocks, one by one, into the belfry of the Cathedral, and toll the great bell one hundred and twenty-three times, the exact number of years to which the Saint, in forgetfulness of Sir George Cornwall Lewis and the Editor of _Notes and Queries_, is said to have attained. They then parade the principal streets of Dublin on piebald horses, preceded by a band of music and the Law Officers of the Crown, and disperse at a moment's notice, no one knows where. [Illustration: GRANDILOQUENCE.--_Captain of schooner._ "What 'a' you got there, Pat?" _Pat (who has been laying in some firewood and potatoes)._ "Timber and fruit, yer honour!!"] St. Patrick's tastes were athletic. He had a wart on his forehead, and a cousin in the militia; and displayed a profound acquaintance with the laws of short whist, then in its infancy. He was an early riser, a deep thinker, and a careless dresser, and foresaw, with an eagle glance, the gradual development of the railway system, while his declining years were soothed by the devoted attentions of some of the oldest families in Ireland. * * * * * NEW BULLS _v._ OLD COWS.--At the Thames Police Court Mr. Benson condemned the owner and vendor of a quantity of old Irish cow beef to penalties for selling meat unfit for human consumption. This should be a warning to all whom it may concern, that though new Irish bulls may be introduced freely, and even be relished in this country, there is no toleration for old Irish cows on this side St. George's Channel. * * * * * [Illustration: _Irish Driver._ "Yes, yer 'onner, it's a nasty bit o'road, it is, an' it's likely ye are to 'ave a fall out, if ye aren't drivin' careful!"] [Illustration: "CIRCUMSTANTIAL."--_Counsel for the Prisoner._ "And you tell me, sir, you saw that blind, helpless fiddler kick the prosecutor on the head along with his other assailants?" _Witness._ "I did, surr! In the thick o' the shindy, I seen the ould vagabone a-feelin' round an' round that honest poor man down on the flewer till he'd found a vacancy, whin he ups wid his fut an' lits fly, the divil's own shoe-full clane into the centre ov't!!!"] [Illustration: "HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL----."--_Irish Landlord (in distressed district, who had paid compensation for not receiving his rents, and was sinking his capital in draining-works, and otherwise "disturbing" his tenants)._ "Well, Pat, I hope, with a good harvest, we shall get on without all this 'relief' next season----" _Pat (an optimist)._ "Och, plaze heaven, yer honour, we'll have another bad year yet!!"] [Illustration: WHEN YOU _ARE_ ABOUT IT.--_Magister Familias (parting with his butler)._ "Here is the letter, Flanagan. I can conscientiously say you are honest and attentive, but I should have to stretch a point if I were to say you are sober." _Mr. Flanagan._ "Thank you, sor. But when you _are_ afther strritchin' a point, sor, wouldn't you, plase, sthritch it a little further, and say I'm _aften_ sober!!"] [Illustration: LEVELLING UP.--_Subaltern (just arrived by rail)._ "How much to the barracks?" _Car-driver_. "Ah, shure, thin, captin, the manest ov 'em gives me t'ree and sixpence!"] [Illustration: "So this is your native place, Pat?" "Yes, your riverence--that is, _par-r-t of the toime_!"] [Illustration: "A PRIVATE VIEW."--_Pat._ "What d'ye think of the Home Rule Bill, Murphy?" _Murphy (puzzled)._ "Begorra, if it means staying at home with the ould woman every blessed day, home rule won't do for me at all, at all!"] P.I.P. (_Perfectly Impossible Pulp_) THE ROYAL VISIT TO IRELAND No doubt some of our readers have been, at one time or another, in Ireland, especially those who were born there. It is hoped, however, that the following notes may be of some value to those whose attention has now for the first time been attracted to this country by the King's visit. Many, however, will remember that not very long ago Ireland was the scene of perhaps the most bloodless and humane motor-car encounters of modern times. The inhabitants of the island (who consist of men, women, and children of both sexes) are full of native character. They are generally fond of animals, especially pigs and "bulls." These latter wear what is known as a Celtic fringe on the forehead. The principal exports are emigrants, M.P.s, shamrocks, Dublin Fusiliers, Field Marshals, real lace, and cigars. A full list of "Previous Royal Visits to Ireland and other Countries" will be found in another column of some other paper. [Illustration: _Irish Chambermaid (indignantly, to gay Lothario who has tried to snatch a kiss and been foiled)._ "Ye dare! If it wasn't for soilin' me hands wid ye I'd kick ye downstairs!"] Dublin is the capital of the country, and is pronounced very much like the English word "doubling," with the final "g" omitted. The tourist will find the language difficulty comparatively easy, as English is now spoken in most of the large shops. A few phrases, such as "Erin go bragh," "Begorra ye spalpeen," "Acushla mavourneen," &c., are easily learnt, and the trouble involved is amply repaid in the simple joy of the natives on hearing a foreigner speak their own language. [Illustration: PROOF _Master._ "Pat, I must say you're very contradictory." _Pat (emphatically)._ "I am not, sorr!"] English gold is accepted in Ireland, and the rate of exchange works out at twenty shillings to the sovereign. Two sixpences will always be accepted in lieu of a shilling. N.B.--To avoid disappointment to naturalists and others we think it right to mention that since the late raid of St. Patrick there are no snakes of first-rate quality in Ireland. [Illustration: AFTER A SHOOT IN COUNTY CLARE _Master._ "Well, Paddy, what sort of a bag?" _Paddy._ "Well, yer honour, countin' the rabbits, there is nine distinct spaycies o' birds!"] "THE FINEST PLEASANTRY IN THE WORLD" [" ... the Court was in an uproar from the moment the magistrates took their seats.... Counsel for the Crown was rudely interrupted by the defendants ... much to the delight of the crowd.... After some particularly riotous scenes the police were called on to clear the court.... One of the defendants was supplied with meat and bread in court."--_Globe._] _Counsel for the Crown._ The prisoners are charged---- _A Defendant._ Charged a dale too much for their accommodation. Oi'd loike a bit o' lunch to go on wid. Oi havn't aten a morsel since last time. [_Loud cries of "Shame on the polis for shtarvin' of um!" "Shtick up for yer roights, avick!" "To h----wid the magisthrates!"_ _Chairman of the Bench._ If these observations are repeated, I shall clear the court. _Second Defendant._ Arrah thin, clear yer own muddy brain first! _Chairman (indignantly)._ Are these indecent interruptions to continue? _Third Defendant._ 'Coorse they are. [Illustration: This is Mr. Denis O'Brien, who claims descent from the ancient kings of Ireland. But his pretensions just now do not soar above _half_ a crown.] _First Defendant._ Oi tell ye O'im shtarvin for me lunch. Oi'll take a sandwich and a shmall bottle o' porther. [_Refreshments brought in by order of the magistrates. Defendants indulge in a sort of "free-and-easy" picnic in the solicitors' well, after which they light dirty clay pipes. Crowd bursts into loud cheers._ _Counsel for the Crown (resuming)._ As I was saying, the defendants are charged with intimidation in this neighbourhood, and so complete has been their system that up to the present moment none of our witnesses have dared to venture near the precincts of the court. We have, however, now endeavoured to get them here by the aid of the police and a small covered van. If we succeed in this---- _First Defendant._ Ye will not. Whativer decision these fat-headed magistrates give, we shan't obey ut. Even if they acquitted us, _we wouldn't walk out o' the coort_! Ould Oireland for iver! [_Vociferous cheering, in the midst of which the court was cleared, and the magistrates, under police protection, left for home._ * * * * * [Illustration: "Sure, Terence, if yez go to the front, kape at the back, or ye'll be kilt, O' know ut!" "Faith, an' isn't that the way Oi get my livin'?"] [Illustration: _Father O'Flynn._ "And now, Pat Murphy, in this season of Lent, what is it ye'll do by way of penance?" _Pat Murphy._ "Sure, then, I'll--I'll come an' hear your riverance prayche!"] [Illustration: _The Vicar._ "I have not seen your husband at church lately, Mrs. Murphy." _Mrs. Murphy._ "Well, sir, I'm sorry to say as my old man is _enjoying_ very bad 'ealth at present!"] [Illustration: THE WONDERS OF THE DEEP _Paddy._ "Be jabers! the forrst thoime I iver saw rid hirrins swimmin' about aloive before!"] [Illustration: DECIMALS ON DECK _Irish Mate._ "How manny iv ye down ther-re?!" _Voice from the Hold._ "Three, sor!" _Mate._ "Thin half iv ye come up here immadiately!"] [Illustration: _Irish Maid._ "Do you want a good beating, Master Jimmy, or do you not? Because, if you don't behave yourself this minute--_you'll get both_!"] [Illustration: _Mistress._ "Poor darling little Topsy! I'm afraid she will never recover. Do you know, Bridget, I think the kindest thing would be to have her shot, and put her out of her misery!" _Bridget._ "'Deed, mam, I wouldn't do that. Sure she _might_ get better after all, an' then ye'd be sorry ye'd had her kill'd!"] * * * * * THE SAXON OPPRESSOR.--_Saxon Tourist._ "I suppose the English buy all the pigs that you wish to sell?" _Irish Peasant._ "They do. Bad luck to 'em, the toirants!" * * * * * FROM SHANNON SHORE.--We extract the following momentous announcement from the _Western Daily Press_:-- "An Irish Member tells me that the motor craze is causing a revival of the Limerick lace trade. This particular kind of lace is, it is said, the best protection that a lady can have for her complexion when she is engaged in breaking the speech limit." The information must be authentic, for there is no authority like an Irish Member where the "speech limit" is concerned. * * * * * AN IRISH BULL ON THE LINE.--"The directors of the Dublin, Wicklow and Wexford Railway Company are prepared to receive tenders for the purchase of about 750 tons of old steel rails and permanent way scrap. The directors do not bind themselves to accept the _lowest_ or any tender."--[Italics by _Mr. Punch_.] * * * * * [Illustration: FROM ERIN _Restaurant Waiter._ "Bill, sorr? Yes, sorr. It's foive-and-sixpence including the cigyar, and that makes six shillings, sorr!"] [Illustration: "A WORD AND A BLOW!"--_First Gent (Celt)._ "Ye met'm at me brother's, the mimber, I think?" _Second Gent (Saxon)._ "Yes, but I haven't any favourable impression of him--'n fact--um--he struck me as a liar." _First Gent._ "Did he, thin?! I hope ye hit'm back, surr!"] [Illustration: BOYS AT PLAY (AFTER AN EXECUTION).--_First Kilkenny "Boy."_ "Did ye see the cock-fightin' at Pat Daly's lasst night?" _Second Kilkenny "Boy."_ "I did not." _First Kilkenny "Boy."_ "Did ye see the 'boys' 'suffer-r,' this mornin'?" _Second Kilkenny "Boy" (listlessly)._ "I did not." _First Kilkenny "Boy."_ "Ah, thin, ye take no delight out o' yerself, at all, at all!"] [Illustration: _Dooley._ "What's the matter wid ye anyhow, Mick--all tattered an' torrun an' bitten an' scratched all over?" _Mick._ "Ay, an' me own dog done it! I want home sober last noight, an' the baste _didn't know me_!"] [Illustration: _Pat (who has been acting as guide, and has been pointing out the devil's this and the devil's that for the last two hours)._ "An' _that's_ the devil's puch-bowl, yer anner." _Tourist._ "The devil seems to own a good deal of property about here, Pat!" _Pat._ "Ye're roight, yer anner. But, loike most av the other landlords, he spinds most av his toime in London!"] [Illustration: _Traveller._ "Get on, man; get on! Wake up your nag." _Driver._ "Shure, sorr, I haven't the heart to bate him." _Traveller._ "What's the matter with him? Is he sick?" _Driver._ "No, sor, he's not _sick_, but it's unlucky 'e is, sor, unlucky! You see, sor, every morning, afore I put 'im in the car, I tosses 'im whether '_e_ll have a feed of oats, or _I_'ll have a dhrink of whisky, _an' the poor baste has lost five mornings running_!"] [Illustration: A SAFE WIN (?) _Pat (in corner, to chaffing friend, who knows him to have backed beaten horse)_. "Goin' to lose, am Oi! Faith, an' Oi'm not! Shure, Oi've got a troifle on every blissed horse in the race!"] [Illustration: A PLEASANT PROSPECT.--_Traveller (in Ireland)._ "Hi,--pull her up, man! Don't you see the mare is running away?" _Paddy._ "Hould tight, yer 'onor! For yer life don't touch the reins!--sure they're as rotten as pears! I'll turn her into the river at the bridge below here! Sure that'll stop her, the blagyard!"] [Illustration: _Irish Waiter (to bow-legged traveller in the coffee-room)._ "Big pardon, sor. Hadn't your honour better move a little further from the foire?" _Traveller (fiercely)._ "Eh? Wha' for? Wha'd ye mean!?" _Irish Waiter._ "Och shure, sor, yer legs is warpin'!--Och! phew! most turrible!"] [Illustration: DOMESTIC TRAINING.--_District Visitor_. "Well, Mrs. Murphy, I'm glad to hear your daughter has got a place as parlour-maid. Do you think she'll be up to the work?" _Mrs. Murphy._ "Ah, thin, why wouldn't she? Sure, isn't she used to the ways at home?"] [Illustration: A LITERAL FACT.--_The Young Master (to new valet from the Emerald Isle)._ "I say, confound you, what have you been doing with my boots here?" (_The night had been rainy._) _Pat._ "Shure, sorr, you tould me lasst evening to putt 'm on the thrays!"] [Illustration: IRISH ARCHITECTURE.--_Angler (in Ireland)._ "Hullo, Pat, what are you about now?" _Pat._ "Shure, I'm raisin' me roof a bit, yer honour-r!!"] [Illustration: BLARNEY.--_Tall Yankee (just arrived)._ "Guess your legal fare is just sixpence----" _Dublin Carman._ "Sure, me lord, we take some chape jacks at that--but I wouldn't disgrace a gintleman av your lordship's quality be drivin' him at a mane pace t'rough the public sthreets--so I tuk upon myself to give your lordship a shillin'sworth both av stoyle an' whipcard!!"] [Illustration: WORD-PAINTING.--_Sportsman (who has just lost a good fish)._ "That was a good one, Tim." _Tim._ "'Doed then it was! He was as long as an umbrella, and had a side on him like a shop shutter!"] [Illustration: "GENERAL UTILITY."--(Scene--_Hotel Stables, North of Ireland_.) Captain. "Hullo, Pat! What the deuce are you doing to the old mare?" _Pat_. "Well, you see, Capt'in, our old black hearse horse went lame yesterday that was wanted for Squire Doherty's funeral, so I'm paintin' up the ould grey for the service. You see her body won't show, by rason o' the housin's, and I'll have to wash her clane ag'in for Miss McGinnety's weddin' on the morrow!!"] [Illustration: "EXCLUSIVE DEALING."--_Irish Landlord (boycotted)._ "Pat, my man, I'm in no end of a hurry. Put the pony to, and drive me to the station, and I'll give ye half a sovereign!" _Pat (Nationalist, but needy)._ "Och shure, it's more than me loife is worth to be seen droiving _you_, yer honour. But"--_slily_--"if yer honour would jist droive _me_, maybe it's meself that moight venture it!"] [Illustration: GENERALLY APPLICABLE.--(Scene--_Irish Land Court_). _Sub-Commissioner._ "Now, Murphy, have you effected any improvement in this farm?" _Tenant._ "I have, yer honour! Iver since I got it I've been improvin' it. But, by jabers, it's that sort o' land, the more ye 'mprove 'it the worrse it gets!!" [_Court reduces the rent 25 per cent.!_ ] ] [Illustration: "A PLEASANT PROSPECT."--_Car-Driver (to new agent)._ "Begorra, the wondher is he wasn't shot long before--but, shure, they say, what's iverybody's business is nobody's business!"] [Illustration: LIFE IN LEITRIM.--_Saxon Angler._ "Oh, but I can't try for a salmon. I haven't got a licence----" _Native._ "Is it a licence ye want to kill a fish? Shure ye might kill a man or two about here an' nobody'd say a word t' ye!"] [Illustration: _Gentleman (to Irish ostler, who has brought out their horses)._ "That's my horse." _Ostler._ "Yes, sorr, Oi know that; but Oi didn't know which of the two was the other gintleman's, sorr!"] [Illustration: "Bedad! I don't like him at all. He walks lame in his trot."] [Illustration: _Irish Jarvey._ "Let me dhrive yer honour to Duneen Head." _English Tourist._ "I have seen that, Pat. I went there two years ago." _Irish Jarvey._ "Ah, yer honour, shure they 've added to the scenery since that toime!"] [Illustration: ANOTHER IRISH OBSTRUCTION _Colonel O'Funk._ "I say, my man, what's on the other side of that rail?" _Pat._ "Nothing." _Colonel O'Funk._ "Then, will you take it down, and I'll clear it?"] [Illustration: ODD!--_The Colonel (stopping at Irish Inn)._ "Look here. What's the meaning of this?" _Boots._ "Bedad! An' I've got just such another quare pair down below!"] [Illustration: _The Rector (to Irish Plasterer)._ "That mortar must have been very bad." _Pat (with a grin)._ "Faix, ye cann't expict the likes o' good Roman cimint to stick to a Protestant church, sorr!!"] [Illustration: THE SIGHTS OF DUBLIN _Irish Car-Driver._ "Shure that's the Custom-House, sor; but it's only the rare av it you'll be seeing this side, sor--the front's behind!"] [Illustration: A FAIR OFFER _Athletic Barman._ "Now, if you don't take yourself off, I'll precious soon turn you out!" _Pat (with a yell)._ "Tur-r-rn me out! Is it tur-r-rn me out! Thin, bedad! ccome outside, an' tur-r-rn me out!!"] [Illustration: _Tourist._ "When does the next train start for Cork, porter?" _Irish Porter._ "She's just gone, sorr!"] [Illustration: THE NEW CHIMNEY _Mike._ "Faith, Tim, ye haven't got ut sthraight at all. It lanes over to the roight!" _Tim._ "Oh, ye're wrong. It's plumb ex-hact! It's myself that plumbed ut mosht careful. Indade, if ut has a fault, it lanes over an inch or tew to the left, when ye look at ut from behoind!!"] [Illustration: Irish "as she is spoke." (shows Notice saying "Persons Trespassing here without permission will be prosecuted")] [Illustration: DEGENERACY.--"Shure an your honour, it's things was mighty diffrunt in the ould days when the ginthry be's a cummin' to the parties! 'Tis as much as three pound I'd be takin' of a night! But _now_--why, divil a bit beyant a few coppers ever I sees at all! Mind you, this evenin' I puts a decoy half-crown on the plate myself, and bedad if they didn't take it ov me! But wait--I'll do them the next time--for begorra I'll have it glued to the plate!"] [Illustration: SEASONED.--_Lady Tourist._ "Are the sheets well aired?" _Irish Chambermaid._ "Troth, and they are, ma'am; for the sayson is three months begun, and they've been well used since!"] HOW FATHER O'SHEE LAID IN HIS CHRISTMAS COALS Young Patsy Molloy was as purty a boy As was ever of widdy the pride and the joy; And as for his ass, sorra crather could pass That beautiful baste, but for one fault, alas! When she felt she'd a load, you might kick and might goad, But divil a fut would she move on the road, Till you'd tickle her bones wid a handful of stones-- And _that_ hint she'd take, the desateful ould toad! * * * * * The Widdy, half dead with could, looked in the shed, But sorra the peat could she find; so she said, "Sure I'm clane out of few'l, and the could is that crew'l; Take the baste for a load of Wallsends, Pat, my jew'l!" [Illustration: Pat with donkey cart talking to the Widdy] * * * * * Pat went, filled his cart, and for home made a start, But the baste wid her tantrums well-nigh bruk his heart For never a stip would she move, the ould rip! But she stood like a pig wid her legs wide apart. "Ochone! wirra-'sthrue! Arrah, what will I do?" Cried Pat, as he sat in a terrible stew. [Illustration: Pat with loaded donkey cart, donkey being stubborn] Then he called on the Saints, and he called on the d---- (I won't say the word--sure it wouldn't be civil!) When, as good luck would be, by strowls Father Shee, And he says, "My son Patsy! my son Pat!" says he, '"Sich language is really shocking to me. Sure, what is the matther?" "The matther!" says Pat "Now, saving your prisence, by this and by that! The murthering brute will not budge--not a fut." Says the Priest, "Why not bate her?" Oh wasn't he cute! "Is it batin'?" says Pat. "By the Saint in my hat! 'Tisn't batin' she cares for--bad luck to the slut! Ochone and ochone! if I'd only a stone----!" "A stone!" says the Priest--ah thin, wasn't he artful?-- "A stone! Why, ye omadhaun, look at yer cartfull!" [Illustration: Pat with loaded donkey cart talking to Priest] "Thrue for you!" Pat sings out; "them's the jockeys'll do," And clutching two handsful with joyous "Hurroo," He let fly in haste at the back of his baste, That not likin' the taste, started off as if chased By the ould one himself, for a good rood or two. But Pat knew the thrick, and whenever she'd kick, Or stop in her canther, the coals would fall thick On her ribs and her back, till the road was asthrew Wid best Wallsends, and Patsy's poor baste black and blue! * * * * * [Illustration: Donkey galloping, cart now empty] Ten minutes, and cute Father Shee you'd have seen, Wid his shovel and crate, and his purty colleen. And he says, "Colleen dhas, sure 'tis wicked to pass The good things that's sent, though they're brought by an ass. [Illustration: Colleen with shovel and Priest] D'ye see them black diamonds? It's elegant coal-- Shovel up every lump, if you vally your soul!" * * * * * As for Pat and the widdy--I will not be guessing What _he_ got--but I'll go bail 't wasn't a blessing! [Illustration: Pat with donkey cart talking to the Widdy] * * * * * [Illustration: INDUCTIVE.--_Officer._ "How's this, Murphy? The sergeant complains that you called him names!" _Private Murphy._ "Plaze, surr, I niver called him anny names at all. All I said was, 'Sergeant,' says I, 'some of us ought to be in a menagerie!!'"] [Illustration: FROM ONE POINT OF VIEW.--Scene--_British Jury Room. All agreed on their verdict except Irish juryman (who holds out)._ "Ah, thin, iliv'n more obstinit' men I nivir met in all me loife!!"] [Illustration: AN IRISH INTRO-DUC-TION.--_Village Dame (addressing a brood of young ducks which she has just thrown into the pond for a first swim)._ "Ther' now, you be landed!"] [Illustration: OUR MILITARY MAN[OE]UVRES.--_Irish Drill-Sergeant (to squad of militiamen)._ "Pr's'nt 'rrms!"--(_Astonishing result._)--"Hiv'ns! what a 'prisint'! Jist stip out here now, an' look at yersilves!!"] [Illustration: IRISH ASSURANCE.--_The O'Mullygan (who has been assuring his life)._ "Hah! Another word, gintlemen! Oi hear a good deal about mercantile frauds and financial irrigularities, an' I've only this to say: if moy ixicutors have any bother in getting this paid, 'faith Oi'll ixterpate int-hirely the thin sitting board!--actuiry, sicretary, and ivery man jack iv ye! Make your mimorandum o' that, an' good day t'ye!!"] [Illustration: AN IRISH "SEQUITUR."--_Traveller (they had already walked a mile from the station)._ "Hi, I say, porter, do you call this 'no way at all?' I thought Donnybrook Lodge was near the terminus." _Pat_. "Faix, I cannt say, sor, I was a follerin' o' you gintlemen!!"] * * * * * THE WIND TO PLEASE THE PIGS.--Sow-sow west. * * * * * THE ROOT OF IRISH EVIL.--It used to be said that the Irish people were unwise on relying on the potato. Their reliance on 'taturs was foolish enough, but still more foolish is their faith in agitators. [Illustration: END OF THE VOLUME, blown from saxophone by Mr Punch, observed by Toby] BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. * * * * * Transciber's Notes Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Punctuation, particularly the use of " has been rationalised, other variations in punctuation and spelling are as in the original. Page 5 "##bulls" whisky, the beginning of the name is missing. Page 88 "tableau v[e]evant". The letter between v and e is illegible. Italics are shown thus _italic_. 
46349	----	[Transcriber's Note: Italized text delinminated with underscores (_). There are a few instances of larger font size words, these are delimited with plus signs (+).] JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER. [Illustration] FROM THE COLLECTION OF "Mr. Punch." [Illustration: Yours Faithfully John Leech] JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER [Illustration] From the Collection of "MR. PUNCH."] LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE STREET, E.C. 1886. LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES [Illustration] OF LIFE AND CHARACTER. [Illustration: _A LATE ARRIVAL._ _Page._ "FANCY BALL, SIR! NO, SIR! MISSUS'S FANCY BALL, SIR, WERE LAST TOOSDAY, SIR." [Illustration: _SNUFFED OUT._ "MY EYE, TOMMY! IF 'ERE AIN'T THE SCOTCHMAN HOUT OF THE SNUFF SHOP A TAKIN' A WALK."] [Illustration: _THE TEST OF GALLANTRY._ _Conductor._ "WILL ANY GENT BE SO GOOD AS FOR TO TAKE THIS YOUNG LADY IN HIS LAP?"] [Illustration: _ENCOURAGING._ _Old Gentleman._ "I WANT SOME SHAVING SOAP, MY GOOD LAD." _Boy._ "YES, SIR, HERE'S AN HARTICLE I CAN RECOMMEND, FOR I ALWAYS USE IT MYSELF!"] [Illustration: _TAKING IT COOLLY._ _Old Gent._ "NOW, THEN, CABMAN, HOW MUCH TO THE STRAND?" _Cabman._ "SIX SHILLIN'!" _Old Gent._ "THAT'S TOO MUCH." _Cabman._ "WELL: WHAT YOU PLEASE! IT'S TOO HOT TO DISPUTE ABOUT TRIFLES."] [Illustration: _DID YOU EVER?_ _Old Gentleman (politely)._ "OH, CONDUCTOR! I SHALL FEEL GREATLY OBLIGED TO YOU IF YOU WOULD PROCEED, FOR I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT IN THE STRAND, AND I AM AFRAID I SHALL BE TOO LATE." _Conductor (slamming the door)._ "GO ON, JIM! HERE'S AN OLD COVE A CUSSIN AND A SWEARING LIKE ANY THINK!!!] [Illustration: _WHAT THEY SAID TO THEMSELVES._ _Honourable Mr. Fiddle._ "I WISH THAT CONCEITED ASS, FADDLE, WOULD GO!" _Captain Faddle._ "THAT STUPID IDIOT, FIDDLE, NEVER KNOWS WHEN HE'S IN THE WAY!" _Rich Widow._ "I SHALL BE UNCOMMONLY GLAD WHEN BOTH OF THESE SIMPLETONS TAKE THEIR DEPARTURE."] [Illustration: _PROPRIETY._ PERSONS REPRESENTED. SARAH-JANE. MATILDA. _Scene--Camblin Town._ _Sarah-Jane._ "OH! YOU 'ORRID DREADFUL STORY! I DIDN'T." _Matilda._ "YOU DID NOW, FOR I SEE HIM. I SEE HIM KISS YER. AND HERE HAVE I BIN ENGAGED TO TOMMY PRICE FOR YEARS, AND NEVER SO MUCH AS WALKED ARM-IN-ARM WITH HIM!"] [Illustration: _A COURT DRESS._ "OH! JUST AIN'T PEOPLE PROUD WHAT HAVE GOT PAIRASOLES!"] [Illustration: _A VALUABLE ANIMAL._ _Gentleman (fond of dogs)._ "SAGACIOUS? OH, VERY! WHY, HE NEVER SEES AN OLD GENTLEMAN, BUT HE PULLS OFF HIS HAT AND RUNS AWAY WITH IT. HE'LL FETCH A DUCK OFF A POND; AND HE'S SUCH A NOTION OF TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF THAT HE COSTS ME FULL A GUINEA A WEEK FOR THE LEGS OF MUTTON HE STEALS."] [Illustration: _CRUEL!_ _Snob._ "'AVE A CIGAR, COACHEE?" _Swell Busman._ "NO, THANKEE--I ONLY SMOKE TOBACCER!"] [Illustration: _FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE._ _Policeman._ "HA! THAT'S THE WAY YOU DRINK THE BEER WHEN YOU'RE SENT OF A HERRAND?" _Genius._ "AND THE RIGHT WAY TOO--AIN'T IT?"] [Illustration: _THE JOYS OF OCEAN._ _Smith._ "WELL, BROWN! THIS IS BETTER THAN BEING STEWED UP IN A RAILWAY! EH?" _Brown (faintly)._ "OH--IM-MEASURABLY SU-PERIOR."] [Illustration: _UNFEELING OBSERVATION._ _Vulgar Little Boy._ "OH, LOOK HERE, BILL! HERE'S A POOR BOY BIN AND HAD THE HINFLUENZA, AND NOW HE'S BROKE OUT ALL OVER BUTTONS AND RED STRIPES."] [Illustration: _IN FOR IT._ "HALLO, SIR! ARE YOU AWARE YOU'RE TRESPASSING THERE?"] [Illustration: _THE CORRECT MODE OF RIDING IN ROTTEN ROW._ GALLOP AS HARD AS YOU CAN AMONGST THE LADIES. IT CREATES A SENSATION!!] [Illustration: _A HACK FOR THE DAY._ _Stable-Keeper (to little Gent)._ "SET TO KICKING, AND THEN BOLTED INTO A SHOP! DID HE, NOW? AH! HE ALWAYS WAS A _LIGHT-'ARTED_ 'OSS."] [Illustration: _SPORTING EXTRAORDINARY--THE OLD DOG POINTS CAPITALLY._ "I TELL YER WHAT IT IS, SAM! IF THIS FOOL OF A DOG IS GOING TO STAND STILL LIKE THIS HERE IN EVERY FIELD HE COMES TO, WE MAY AS WELL SHUT UP SHOP, FOR WE SHAN'T FIND NO PARTRIDGES."] [Illustration: _THE GREENWICH DINNER.--A CONVIVIAL MOMENT._ _Gentleman (under the influence of White Bait)._ "WELL, OLD FELLA--REKLECT--PRESHENT COMPANY DINE HERE WITH ME EVERY MONDAY, THURSDAY, AN' SAT'DY--FRIDAY--NO--TOOSDAY, THURSDAY, AND SAT'DY--MIND AN' DON' FORGET--I SAY--WHAT A GOOD FELLA YOU ARE--GREATEST 'STEEM AND REGARD FOR YOU, OLD FELLA!!!"] [Illustration: _STRONG ASSERTION._ _Omnibus Driver (addressing another)._ "YOU'RE A PRETTY FELLOW, YOU ARE. YOU CALL YOURSELF A MAN? WHY, I'VE SEEN A BETTER MAN THAN YOU MADE OUT OF TEA-LEAVES!"] [Illustration: _ALARMING SYMPTOMS AFTER EATING BOILED BEEF AND GOOSEBERRY PIE._ _Little Boy._ "OH, LOR, MAR, I FEEL JUST EXACTLY AS IF MY JACKET WAS BUTTONED."] [Illustration: _VERY FINE FRUIT._ _Newspaper Boy (reads)._ "A GENTLEMAN IN THE N-E-I-G-H--NEIGHBOURHOOD OF----, HAS AT THE PRESENT TIME SEVERAL E-NORMOUS GOOSEBERRIES IN HIS GARDEN, WHICH MEASURE TEN INCHES IN C-I-R-CIR C-U-M-CUM F-E-R-FER E-N-C-E-ENCE CIRCUMFERENCE, AND ARE OF THE A-S-AS ASTON ASTONISHING WEIGHT OF THREE HOUNCES HEACH." _His Friend._ "OH, WHAT WHOPPERS! WOULDN'T I LIKE A PINT!"] [Illustration: _A PHILOSOPHER._ _Harriet._ "ST! ST! ST! DEAR ME, NOW, I'VE BROKEN MY COMB, AND ALL MY BACK HAIR'S COME DOWN. WHAT WITH BRUSHING, AND DRESSING, AND CURLING, AND ONE THING AND THE OTHER, WHAT A PLAGUE ONE'S HAIR IS TO BE SURE!" _Young Fellow._ "WELL, HARRIET, WE ARE ALL BOTHERED WITH SOMETHING. LOOK AT US MEN; WE HAVE TO SHAVE EVERY MORNING, SUMMER AND WINTER!"] [Illustration: _MATERNAL SOLICITUDE._ _Mamma._ "GEORGINA! GEORGINA!" _Georgina._ "WELL, MA. HOW YOU DO FIDGET ONE!" _ Mamma._ "SHOULDERS, MY LOVE; SHOULDERS! PRAY HOLD YOURSELF UP. YOU'RE STOOPING AGAIN DREADFULLY."] [Illustration: _ALARMING OCCURRENCE._ _Chorus of Unprotected Females._ "CONDUCTOR! STOP! CONDUCTOR! OMNIBUS-MAN! HERE'S A GENTLEMAN HAD AN ACCIDENT AND BROKE A JAR OF LEECHES, AND THEY'RE ALL OVER THE OMNIBUS!"] [Illustration: _FANCY PORTRAIT._ THE INDIVIDUAL WHO SENDS A FIFTY-POUND NOTE FOR UNPAID INCOME-TAX TO THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.] [Illustration: _VERY FINE TALKING!_ "NOW, THEN, SIR, JUMP UP ON THE ROOF, AND LOOK SHARP, PLEASE, SIR, HERE'S T'OTHER BUS A-COMING."] [Illustration: _HOW TO SUIT THE TASTE._ _Waiter._ "GENT IN NO. 4 LIKES A HOLDER AND A THINNER WINE, DOES HE? I WONDER HOW HE'LL LIKE THIS BIN?"] [Illustration: _MAKING THE MOST OF IT._] [Illustration: _AN AFFAIR OF IMPORTANCE._ _Harriet._ "OH! I'M SO GLAD YOU ARE COME, BLANCHE! I'VE BEEN SO PERPLEXED I COULD SCARCELY SLEEP ALL NIGHT." _Blanche._ "WELL! WHAT IS IT, DEAR?" _Harriet._ "WHY, I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO HAVE MY NEW MERINO FROCK VIOLET OR DARK BLUE!"] [Illustration: _A LONDON GENT ABROAD._ _Scene--A Café in Paris._ _London Gent._ "GARCONG! TAS DE CORFEE!" _Garçon._ "BIEN, M'SIEU'--VOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE ZEE 'TIMES'?" _London Gent._ "HANG THE FELLER! NOW, I WONDER HOW THE DOOSE HE FOUND OUT I WAS AN ENGLISHMAN!"] [Illustration: _ROMANCE AND REALITY._ _Beautiful Being (who is all soul)._ "HOW GRAND, HOW SOLEMN, DEAR FREDERICK, THIS IS! I REALLY THINK THE OCEAN IS MORE BEAUTIFUL UNDER THIS ASPECT THAN UNDER ANY OTHER!" _Frederick (who has about as much poetry in him as a Codfish)._ "HM--AH! YES. PER-WAPS. BY THE WAY, BLANCHE--THERE'S A FELLA SWIMPING. S'POSE WE ASK HIM IF HE CAN GET US SOME PWAWNS FOR BWEAKFAST TO-MOWAW MORNING?"] [Illustration: _SYMPTOMS OF WET WEATHER._ _Tom._ "HOLLO, SAM, WHAT THE JUICE ARE YOU CARRYING OF?" _Sam._ "'CLARISSA ARLO,' FOR MISSIS."] [Illustration: _PITY THE SORROWS OF THE POOR POLICE._ "LOR, SOOSAN! HOW'S A FELLER TO EAT MEAT SUCH WEATHER AS THIS? NOW, A BIT O' PICKLED SALMON AND COWCUMBER, OR A LOBSTER SALAD MIGHT DO."] [Illustration: _THE DERBY EPIDEMIC._ GENTLEMEN, OWING TO SUDDEN AND VERY SEVERE INDISPOSITION, I REGRET TO SAY THAT I SHALL NOT BE ABLE TO ATTEND THE OFFICE TO-DAY. I HOPE, HOWEVER, TO BE ABLE TO RESUME MY DUTIES TO-MORROW. I AM, GENTLEMEN, YOURS VERY OBEDIENTLY, PHILIP COX.] [Illustration: _HOW TO GET RID OF A GRATIS PATIENT._ "SO YOU'VE TAKEN ALL YOUR STUFF, AND DON'T FEEL ANY BETTER, EH? WELL, THEN, WE MUST ALTER THE TREATMENT; YOU MUST GET YOUR HEAD SHAVED; AND IF YOU WILL CALL HERE TO-MORROW ABOUT ELEVEN, MY PUPIL HERE WILL PUT A SETON IN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK."] [Illustration: _THE FISH DINNER._ "THE WHITEBAIT SEEM VERY LARGE, WAITER?" "YES, SIR; VERY FINE AT PRESENT, SIR."] [Illustration: _A HIGHLAND GAME IN A LONDON STREET._ PORTRAIT OF THE BOY WHO WON THE PRIZE FOR "PUTTING A STONE" THROUGH A WINDOW.] [Illustration: _A QUIET WEED._ _Guard._ "SOME ONE BEEN SMOKING, I THINK?" _Passenger._ "WHAT! SMOKING! THAT'S VERY REPREHENSIBLE. PERHAPS IT WAS THE CLERICAL GENTLEMAN WHO HAS JUST GOT OUT OF THE NEXT COMPARTMENT."] [Illustration: _PRODIGIOUS!_ _Schoolmistress._ "YOU SEE, MY LOVE--IF I PUNCTURE THIS INDIA-RUBBER BALL IT WILL COLLAPSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" _Child._ "OH, YES, I UNDERSTAND--IF YOU PRICK IT, IT WILL GO SQUASH."] [Illustration: _BLESS THE BOY!_ _Old Lady._ "NOW, ARTHUR, WHICH WILL YOU HAVE? SOME OF THIS NICE PUDDING, OR SOME JAM TART?" _Juvenile._ "NO PASTRY, THANK-YE, AUNT. IT SPOILS ONE'S WINE SO. I DON'T MIND A DEVILLED BISCUIT, THO', BY-AND-BY, WITH MY CLARET." (_Old Lady turns all manner of colours._] [Illustration: _HOOKING AND EYEING._ _Angelina (the Wife of his Bussum)._ "WELL, EDWIN, IF YOU CAN'T MAKE THE 'THINGS,' AS YOU CALL THEM, MEET, YOU NEED NOT SWEAR SO. IT'S REALLY QUITE DREADFUL."] [Illustration: _A GAY YOUNG FELLOW._ _Young Rapid._ "YOU ARE QUITE SURE THIS IS THE CORRECT DRESS FOR A YOUNG FELLOW OF THAT PERIOD, EH?" _Mr. Noses._ "OH, PERFECTLY CORRECT, SIR; AND REALLY LOOKS SPLENDID ON YER!"] [Illustration: _"DE GUSTIBUS," &c., &c._ _Snip._ "THAT'S A SWEET THING FOR A WAISTCOAT, SIR, AND WOULD LOOK UNCOMMON WELL UPON YOU, SIR!"] [Illustration: _JEALOUSY._ _Betrothed (who does not dance the Polka)._ "I SHOULD LIKE TO PUNCH HIS HEAD--A CONCEITED BEAST!"] [Illustration: _A BON-BON FROM A JUVENILE PARTY._ _Alfred._ "I SAY, FRANK, AREN'T YOU GOING TO HAVE SOME SUPPER?" _Frank._ "A--NOT AT PRESENT. I SHALL WAIT TILL THE WOMEN LEAVE THE ROOM."] [Illustration: _SPECULATORS._ "THIS AIN'T SUCH A WERRY BAD IDEA, IS IT, JIM? HERE'S THE GREAT DIDDLESEX WRITES TO ME FOR FIVE BOB ON A HUNDRED AN' FIFTY SHARES; AND, TO SAVE TROUBLE, VANTS THE NAME OF MY SOLICITUR."] [Illustration: _A PROFESSIONAL MAN._ _Medical Student._ "WELL, OLD FELLOW, SO YOU'VE 'PASSED' AT LAST." _Consulting Surgeon._ "YES; BUT I DON'T GET MUCH PRACTICE, SOMEHOW--ALTHOUGH I AM NEARLY ALWAYS AT HOME, IN CASE ANY ONE SHOULD CALL."] [Illustration: _PUTTING HIS FOOT IN IT._ _Little Hairdresser (mildly)._ "YER 'AIR'S VERY THIN ON THE TOP, SIR." _Gentleman (of ungovernable temper)._ "MY HAIR THIN ON THE TOP, SIR? AND WHAT IF IT IS? CONFOUND YOU, YOU PUPPY, DO YOU THINK I CAME HERE TO BE INSULTED AND TOLD OF MY PERSONAL DEFECTS? I'LL THIN YOUR TOP!!"] [Illustration: _MERMAIDS AT PLAY; OR, A NICE LITTLE WATER PARTY._] [Illustration: _COMING TO THE POINT._ _Lover._ "SWEET GIRL, LET ME--HERE--AWAY FROM THE BUSY HUM OF MEN--AND WHERE NO MORTAL EYE CAN SEE US--DECLARE THAT PASSION WHICH--WHICH--" _Lady._ "THERE! FOR GOODNESS' SAKE GET UP, MR. TOMKINS, AND DON'T BE RIDICULOUS--JUST CONSIDER ALL THE TELESCOPES FROM THE PARADE!!"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE SURPRISE._ _Little Foot Page (unexpectedly)._ "HERE'S SOME GENTLEMEN, PLEASE SIR."] [Illustration: _INTERESTING SCENE DURING THE CANVASS FOR MR. ----. NOT A HUNDRED MILES FROM ----._ _Wife of Free and Independent._ "OH! AIN'T HE A HAFFABLE GENTLEMAN, TUMMUS?" _Free and Independent._ "AH! JUST AIN'T 'UN. I SHOULDN'T WONDER IF I WARN'T ABLE TO PAY MY RENT TO-MORRER!"] [Illustration: _MURDER WILL OUT._ _Mrs. Smith._ "IS MRS. BROWN IN?" _Jane._ "NO, MEM, SHE'S NOT AT HOME." _Little Girl._ "OH! WHAT A HORRID STORY, JANE! MA'S IN THE KITCHEN, HELPING COOK!"] [Illustration: _DOING A LITTLE BILL._ "YOU SEE, OLD BOY, IT'S THE MEREST FORM IN THE WORLD. YOU HAVE ONLY TO--WHAT THEY CALL--ACCEPT IT, AND I'LL FIND THE MONEY WHEN IT COMES DUE." _Victim._ "COME ALONG--GIVE US THE PEN."] [Illustration: _A PLEASANT STREET GAME._ _Old Gent._ "CONFOUND THE BOYS AND THEIR TOPS! WHERE ARE THE POLICE?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. I. THE COOK SAYS THAT SHE THINKS THERE'S A SLATE LOOSE ON THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE, FOR THE WATER COMES INTO THE SERVANTS' BEDROOM. MR. BRIGGS REPLIES THAT THE SOONER IT IS PUT TO RIGHTS THE BETTER, BEFORE IT GOES ANY FURTHER--AND HE WILL SEE ABOUT IT.] [Illustration: No. II. MR. BRIGGS HAVING BEEN TOLD BY THE BUILDER THAT A "LITTLE COMPO" IS ALL THAT IS WANTED, THE FIRST STEP IS TAKEN TOWARDS MAKING THINGS COMFORTABLE.] [Illustration: _HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS._ MASTER JACKEY HAVING SEEN A "PROFESSOR" OF POSTURING, HAS A PRIVATE PERFORMANCE OF HIS OWN IN THE NURSERY.] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE A HOLIDAY._ _Pastrycook._ "WHAT HAVE YOU HAD, SIR?" _Boy._ "I'VE HAD TWO JELLIES, SEVEN OF THEM, AND ELEVEN OF THEM, AND SIX OF THOSE, AND FOUR BATH BUNS, A SAUSAGE ROLL, TEN ALMOND CAKES, AND A BOTTLE OF GINGER BEER."] [Illustration: _GREAT WANT OF VENERATION._ _Puer loquitur._ "I SAY LOBSTER, SHALL I GO AND FETCH YOU A CAB?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. III.] [Illustration: No. IV. NO TIME HAS BEEN LOST. MR. BRIGGS FINDS, ON GETTING OUT OF BED AT FIVE A.M. THAT THE WORKPEOPLE HAVE ALREADY COMMENCED PUTTING THE ROOF TO RIGHTS.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC BLISS._ _Paterfamilias._ "I CANNOT CONCEIVE, MY LOVE, _WHAT_ IS THE MATTER WITH MY WATCH; I THINK IT MUST WANT CLEANING." _Pet Child._ "OH, NO! PAPA DEAR! I DON'T THINK IT WANTS CLEANING, BECAUSE BABY AND I HAD IT WASHING IN THE BASIN FOR EVER SO LONG THIS MORNING!"] [Illustration: _THE FASHIONS._ A FRIENDLY HINT TO YOUNG LADIES WHO WEAR THOSE DEAR DELIGHTFUL BARÈGE DRESSES. ALWAYS LET THE SLIP (OR WHATEVER THE MYSTERIOUS GARMENT IS CALLED) BE AS LONG AS THE OUTER DRESS!] [Illustration: _INNOCENCE._ "OH, SIR! NO, SIR! PLEASE, SIR, IT AIN'T ME, SIR! IT'S THE OTHER BOYS, SIR!"] [Illustration: _UNLUCKY._ "VAT'S THE MATTER, EH?" "OH, THERE'S ALWAYS A SOMETHINK! VY, I'VE BIN AND LEFT MY HOPERA-GLASS IN A CAB NOW."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. V. JUST TO SHOW HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER--MR. BRIGGS (WHO HAS COME OUT ON THE LEADS WHILE THE MEN ARE GONE TO DINNER) IS SHOWN BY THE BUILDER HOW IT WOULD BE THE EASIEST THING IN THE WORLD TO "THROW" HIS PASSAGE INTO HIS DINING ROOM, AND BUILD A NEW ENTRANCE HALL WITH A SLIGHT CONSERVATORY OVER IT.--TO THE RIGHT OF THE CARTOON IS MRS. BRIGGS(!) WHO THINKS MR. B. HAS TAKEN LEAVE OF HIS SENSES.] [Illustration: _EVENING PARTIES._ "BILL, YOU GOES OUT A GOOD DEAL.--TELL US, IS IT THE KERRECT THING TO TAKE ONE'S 'AT INTO A HEVENING PARTY?"] [Illustration: _A DELICIOUS MORSEL._ _Jacky._ "HALLO, TOMMY! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT THERE?" _Tommy._ "HOYSTER." _Jacky._ "OH! GIVE US A BIT."] [Illustration: _DIFFERENT PEOPLE HAVE DIFFERENT OPINIONS._ _Flunkey._ "APOLLO? HAH! I DESSAY IT'S VERY CHEAP, BUT IT AIN'T MY IDEER OF A GOOD FIGGER!"] [Illustration: _OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES._ _Small Briton._ "THE FRENCH INVADE US, INDEED! AND WHAT SHOULD WE BE ABOUT ALL THE TIME?--WHY, WE SHOULD RISE LIKE ONE MAN!"] [Illustration: _GENTEEL PRACTICE._ _Apprentice._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, SHALL I FILL UP MRS. TWADDLE'S DRAUGHTS WITH WATER?" _Practitioner._ "DEAR, DEAR ME, MR. BUMPS, HOW OFTEN MUST I MENTION THE SUBJECT? WE NEVER USE WATER--_Aqua destillata_, IF YOU PLEASE!"] [Illustration: _THE GOOD LITTLE BOY._ _Bathing Woman._ "MASTER FRANKY WOULDN'T CRY! NO! NOT HE!--HE'LL COME TO HIS MARTHA, AND BATHE LIKE A MAN!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. VI. TABLEAU, REPRESENTING FURTHER IMPROVEMENTS IN MR. BRIGGS'S HOUSE--DESTRUCTION OF THE WALL WHICH SEPARATES THE PARLOUR FROM THE PASSAGE. (_N.B.--As the wall is only lath and plaster, of course little or no mess is made. Mrs. Briggs says she hopes Mr. B. is satisfied now._)] [Illustration: _BITTER SARCASM._] [Illustration: _MAL-APROPOS._ _Gentleman (in Shower-Bath)._ "HOLLO! HOLLO! WHO'S THERE? WHAT THE DEUCE DO YOU WANT?" _Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, HERE'S THE BUTCHER, AND MISSUS SAYS WHAT WILL YOU HAVE FOR DINNER TO-DAY?"] [Illustration: _WE ALL HAVE OUR TROUBLES._ _Sister Mary._ "WHY, CHARLEY, DEAR BOY, WHAT'S THE MATTER? YOU SEEM QUITE MISERABLE!" _Charley._ "AH! AIN'T I JUST! HERE'S MA' SAYS I MUST WEAR TURN-DOWN COLLARS TILL CHRISTMAS, AND THERE'S YOUNG SIDNEY BOWLER (WHO'S NOT HALF SO TALL AS I AM) HAS HAD STICK-UPS AND WHITE CHOKERS FOR EVER SO LONG!"] [Illustration: _THE RULING PASSION._ "NOW, TELL ME, DEAR, IS THERE ANYTHING NEW IN THE FASHIONS?"] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE WARM BATHING._ "HOLLO! HI! HERE! SOMEBODY! I'VE TURNED ON THE HOT WATER, AND I CAN'T TURN IT OFF AGAIN!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. VII. _Scene: Principal barricade at Mr. Briggs's House._--OWING TO THE INCOMPLETE STATE OF THE ALTERATIONS, MR. BRIGGS IS OBLIGED TO ENTER HIS HOUSE THROUGH THE PARLOUR WINDOW. THE POLICEMAN MISTAKES HIM FOR A BURGLAR, AND ACTS ACCORDINGLY. IN MR. BRIGGS'S HAND MAY BE OBSERVED A FINE LOBSTER, WHICH HE HAS BROUGHT HOME TO CONCILIATE MRS. B.] [Illustration: _THE TROOPS AND THE WEATHER._] [Illustration: _PROPER PRIDE._ A SKETCH AT A RAILWAY STATION.] [Illustration: _JUST THE MAN._ "PLEASE, SIR, DID YOU WANT ANYBODY TO KEEP ORDER ON THESE HERE HUSTINGS ON POLLING DAY?"] [Illustration: _A REGULAR CUSTOMER._ "HA'PENNY CANDLE, PLEASE, AND BE QUICK, FOR MOTHER WANTS HER TEA." "OH, YES, OF COURSE, MISS; COULD WE SEND IT ANYWHERE FOR YER?"] [Illustration: _ALARMING INTELLIGENCE._ _Swell Mobsman (reads)._ "'ARRANGEMENTS ARE MAKING TO CONNECT ALL THE POLICE OFFICES WITH THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.' WELL, I HAM BLOWED!"] [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. No. VIII. SOMEHOW OR OTHER, EVER SINCE THE ALTERATIONS, THE CHIMNEYS HAVE TAKEN TO SMOKE INTOLERABLY. THE BUILDER IS ASSURING MR. BRIGGS THAT BY SOME VERY SIMPLE CONTRIVANCE THEY CAN BE EFFECTUALLY CURED.] [Illustration: _TAKING CHANGE._ _Conductor_. "ALL RIGHT, JIM. PUSH ALONG, I'VE SERVED THE OLD GAL OUT THIS TIME." _Old Lady._ "HERE, STOP! CONDUCTOR! I WON'T TAKE CHANGE FOR A FIVE-SHILLING PIECE IN HALF-PENCE--THAT I WON'T! HERE, POLICE! CONDUCTOR!" &C.] [Illustration: _THE INTERESTING STORY._ _First Ticket Porter._ "AND SO, YOU KNOW, THAT'S ALL I KNOWS ABOUT IT." _Second Ticket Porter._ "WELL! I DON'T KNOW AS EVER I KNOWED A MAN AS KNOWS AS MUCH AS YOU KNOWS."] [Illustration: _MUCH TOO CONSIDERATE._ _Robinson._ "THERE, BROWN, MY BOY, THAT'S AS FINE A GLASS OF WINE AS YOU CAN GET ANYWHERE." _Mrs. Brown._ "A-HEM! AUGUSTUS, MY DE-AR. YOU ARE SURELY NEVER GOING TO TAKE PORT WINE? YOU KNOW IT NEVER AGREES WITH YOU, MY LOVE!"] [Illustration: _GALLANTRY._] [Illustration: _LA MODE._ _Gus (who is always so full of his nonsense)._ "DASH MY BUTTONS, ELLEN! THAT'S A STUNNING WAISTCOAT. I WISH YOU'D GIVE US YOUR TAILOR'S ADDRESS." _Ellen._ "DON'T YOU BE RUDE, SIR--AND TAKE YOUR ARMS OFF THE PIANO."] [Illustration: _A FASHION IN PINS._ "A PIN FOR YOUR SCARF, SIR? HERE'S AN ARTICLE WE HAVE SOLD A GREAT MANY OF."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. IX. ENVELOPE CONTAINING THE BUILDER'S LITTLE ACCOUNT AGAINST MR. BRIGGS--MUCH TOO SERIOUS TO JEST UPON.] [Illustration: No. X. THE UNSETTLED STATE OF THE HOUSE FOR THE LAST TWO MONTHS HAS SO DISORDERED BRIGGS, THAT HIS MEDICAL ADVISER RECOMMENDS A LITTLE HORSE EXERCISE BY WAY OF A CHANGE, AND HIS EQUESTRIAN PLEASURES BEGIN.] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE A BROTHER._ _Flora._ "THAT'S A VERY PRETTY WAISTCOAT, EMILY!" _Emily._ "YES, DEAR. IT BELONGS TO MY BROTHER CHARLES. WHEN HE GOES OUT OF TOWN HE PUTS ME ON THE FREE-LIST, AS HE CALLS IT, OF HIS WARDROBE. ISN'T IT KIND?"]" [Illustration: _A DUMB WAITER._ _Old Gentleman._ "WHAT THE DEUCE IS THE REASON, SIR, YOU DON'T ANSWER WHEN YOU ARE CALLED?" (The reason is obvious. The poor child has his mouth full of green peas and jam tart.)] [Illustration: _THE LOST ONE._ _Boy._ "IF YOU PLEASE, M', WAS YOU A LOOKING FOR A LITTLE DOG?" _Young Ladies._ "YES! OH, YES!" _Boy._ "WAS IT A SPANNEL, MUM?" _Young Ladies_. "OH, YES! A MOST BEAUTIFUL LITTLE SPANIEL, WITH VERY LONG EARS." _Boy._ "AH, THEN, MUM, IT'S THE SAME AS FLEW AT MASTER'S BIG DOG HERE, WOT'S BIN AND SWALLERED OF IT."] [Illustration: _POP._ APPALLING RESULT OF INCAUTIOUSLY TAKING TOO MUCH SODA TO CORRECT ACIDITY.] [Illustration: _REAL ENJOYMENT_. _Annie._ "GOOD-BYE, DEAR, YOU MUST COME AGAIN SOON, AND SPEND A GOOD LONG DAY, AND THEN I CAN SHOW YOU ALL MY NEW THINGS." _Clara._ "OH! THAT WILL BE NICE! GOOD-BYE, DEAR." (_Kiss and exit._)] [Illustration: _FROM A BEAUTIFUL MINIATURE._] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. I. _Dealer._ "I SHOULD SAY IT WAS JUST THE HOSS YOU WANT, SIR; ONLY YOU MUST DECIDE AT ONCE, BECAUSE THERE'S SEVERAL PARTIES VERY SWEET UPON HIM. HE'S A GENTLEMAN'S HOSS, SIR, AND CARRIES HIS OWN HEAD, SIR!" _Mr. Briggs._ "BLESS MY HEART!" (_Buys him._)] [Illustration: _THE RISING GENERATION._ _Clever Juvenile (loq.)._ "SHAKSPEARE? POOH! FOR MY PART I CONSIDER SHAKSPEARE A MUCH OVER-RATED MAN."] [Illustration: _AN EXCELLENT WINE._ "THE BEST OF CLARET IS, THAT YOU MAY DRINK ANY (_hic_) QUANTITY YOU LIKE, WITHOUT FEELING ILL."] [Illustration: _WHAT IS THIS?_ QUITE A NEW SENSATION FOR THE LUXURIOUS, ON COLD MORNINGS. "USE HOT WATER, AND LOOK AT YOUR SHOWER-BATH!"] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC BLISS._ _Time, half-past three; thermometer 30°._ _William._ "WHAT A VIOLENT RINGING THERE IS AT THE STREET-DOOR BELL!" _Maria._ "OH! I KNOW WHAT IT IS, DEAR. IT'S THE SWEEPS· AND I DARE SAY THE GIRLS DON'T HEAR. JUST RUN UP AND KNOCK AT THEIR ROOM DOOR."] [Illustration: _MEN OF BUSINESS._ MONEY.--WANTED FROM £300 TO £400 TO BRING FORWARD AN ARTICLE THAT MUST IN A FEW YEARS REALISE A HANDSOME FORTUNE TO THE PROPRIETORS. TO ANY YOUNG MAN WHO IS NOT OF BUSINESS HABITS, WITH THE ABOVE SUM AT COMMAND, THIS IS AN OPPORTUNITY FOR INVESTMENT SELDOM MET WITH. REFERENCES EXCHANGED.--NO PROFESSED MONEY-LENDER NEED APPLY.] [Illustration: _ANGLERS HEAR STRANGE THINGS._ _Piscator._ "ARE THERE ANY BARBEL ABOUT HERE, GOV'NOR?" _Host._ "ANY BARBEL ABOUT HERE!! I SHOULD RAYTHER THINK THERE WAS A FEW; HERE'S THE PICTUR O' WUN MY LITTLE BOY KETCHED JUST HOPPOSIT."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. II. _MR. BRIGGS TRIES HIS HORSE._ STRIKING EFFECT ON MEETING ONE OF THOSE NASTY OMNIBUSSES.] [Illustration: _THE ALDERMAN'S ADVICE TO HIS SON._ _Mr. Gobble._ "YOU SEE, SAM, YOU ARE A WERRY YOUNG MAN: AND WHEN I AM TOOK AWAY (WHICH, IN THE COMMON COURSE OF EWENTS, CAN'T BE WERRY LONG FUST), YOU WILL HAVE A GREAT DEAL OF PROPERTY. NOW, I'VE ONLY ONE PIECE OF ADWICE TO GIVE YOU. IT'S THIS--AND BY ALL MEANS ACT UPON IT:--LAY DOWN PLENTY OF PORT IN YOUR YOUTH THAT YOU MAY HAVE A GOOD BOTTLE OF WINE IN YOUR OLD AGE."] [Illustration: _A JACK TAR._ BACK VIEW OF THE ELEPHANT AT THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS] [Illustration: _MAY DIFFERENCE OF OPINION NEVER ALTER FRIENDSHIP._ _Dumpy Young Lady._ "WELL, FOR MY PART, MATILDA, I LIKE LONG WAISTS AND FLOUNCES."] [Illustration: _THE PROGRESS OF SLANG._ "WHY, WHAT A PRETTY NEW FROCK ALFRED HAS!" _Prodigy (who picks up everything so readily)._ "AH, AIN'T IT A STUNNER?"] [Illustration: _AWFUL OCCURRENCE AT AN EVENING PARTY._ "MY GOODNESS, EMILY! THEY'RE BEGINNING THE QUADRILLE, AND HERE'S ALL MY 'BACK HAIR' COMING DOWN!! WHATEVER SHALL I DO?"] [Illustration: _SKETCH NEAR BURTON CRESCENT._ "OH! WOT A SHAME! THEY'VE BEEN AND SPIKED ALL THE POSTES."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. III. MR. BRIGGS HAVING PARTED WITH HIS LAD FOR MISCONDUCT, SOME YOUNG MEN WITHOUT ENCUMBRANCE APPLY TO "LOOK AFTER" HIS HORSE.] [Illustration: _NEVER SATISFIED._ _Old Gent._ "GOOD GRACIOUS ME! WHAT WITH ORANGE-PEEL AND SLIDES, THERE'S NO PEACE IN THIS LIFE."] [Illustration: _A VERY OLD SOLDIER._ "SPARE A COPPER FOR A POOR OLD SOLDIER, MY NOBLE CAPTAIN! SURE IT'S YER HONOURS FACE I RECOLLECT IN THE PENINSULAR?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. IV. MR. BRIGGS, PERSUADED THAT "A GOOD HORSE CAN'T BE A BAD COLOUR," HAS PURCHASED A SPOTTED AND HIGHLY TRAINED STEED FROM A CIRCUS; BUT THE WORST OF HIM IS, THAT AMONGST OTHER THINGS, HE HAS BEEN TRAINED TO SIT DOWN ON HIS HAUNCHES WHEN HE HEARS A BAND PLAY, AND YOU MAY IMAGINE HOW DISCONCERTED POOR OLD BRIGGS WAS THE FIRST TIME HE DID SO.] [Illustration: _A PLEASANT STATE OF THINGS._ _Piscator (at the top of his voice)._ "HI--TOM! BRING THE LANDING-NET; HE'S PULLED ME IN, AND GOT ROUND A POST."] [Illustration: HORACE MAYHEW. PERCIVAL LEIGH. RICHD. DOYLE. GILBERT A. A'BECKETT. JOHN LEECH. RICHD. COBDEN. SIR R. PEEL. PRINCE DE JOINVILLE. SIR JAMES GRAHAM. LORD GEORGE BENTINCK. DAN. O'CONNELL. GEORGE HUDSON. SHAW LEFEVRE. (_Speaker._) JENNY LIND. GEN. TOM THUMB. LORD JOHN RUSSELL. PRINCE ALBERT. GEN. TOM THE QUEEN MARK LEMON. TOM TAYLOR. W. M. THACKERAY. DOUGLAS JERROLD. DISRAELI. MR. PUNCH. LOUIS PHILIPPE. COL. SIBTHORP. LORD NORMANBY. LORD BROUGHAM. MEHEMET ALI. EMPEROR OF RUSSIA. DUKE OF WELLINGTON. MR. PUNCH'S FANCY BALL.] [Illustration: _SUBJECT FOR A PICTURE.--IRRITABLE GENTLEMAN DISTURBED BY A BLUEBOTTLE._] [Illustration: _RAILWAY LITERATURE._ _Book Stall Keeper._ "BOOK, MA'AM? YES, MA'AM, HERE'S A POPULAR WORK BY AN EMINENT SURGEON, JUST PUBLISHED, 'BROKEN LEGS, AND HOW TO MEND THEM;' OR, WOULD YOU LIKE THE LAST NUMBER OF 'THE RAILWAY OPERATOR?'"] [Illustration: _A LEFT-HANDED COMPLIMENT._ _Bootmaker (with great feeling)._ "OH, NO, SIR! DON'T HAVE NAPOLEONS; HAVE TOPS, SIR!--YOURS IS A BEAUTIFUL LEG FOR A TOP BOOT, SIR!--(_young Nimrod is immensely pleased_)--BEAUTIFUL LEG, SIR! SAME SIZE ALL THE WAY DOWN, SIR!"--(_young Nimrod is immensely disgusted._)] [Illustration: _LITERAL._ _Young Lady._ "PRAY, CABMAN, ARE YOU ENGAGED?" _Cabman._ "LOR BLESS YER, MISS, WHY, I'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS SEVEN YEARS."] [Illustration: _HALL ALONG OF THEM BETTING OFFICES._ _Betting Flunkey._ "LOST? I BELIEVE YER! AND LOST A HATFULL OF MONEY ON THE HOAKS, TOO; AND HOW I'M TO SETTLE WITHOUT PARTING WITH MY JEWELLERY, I'M SURE I DON'T KNOW! AH, MR. BOTTLES, ITS HARD LINES TO WAIT AT TABLE WITH SUCH CARES AND HANXIETIES."] [Illustration: _A BRUTAL FELLOW._ _Policeman._ "NOW, MUM! WHAT'S THE MATTER?" _Injured Female._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MISTER--I WANT TO GIVE MY WRETCH OF A 'USBAND IN CHARGE. HE'S ALLVAYS A KNOCKING OF ME DOWN AND A STAMPIN' ON ME!"] [Illustration: _OF COURSE._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, MASTER'S SENT BACK THE FIRST VOLUME, AND HE SAYS, WILL YOU BE SO GOOD AS TO LET HIM 'AVE THE SECOND?"] [Illustration: _ENTER MR. BOTTLES, THE BUTLER._ _Master Fred._ "THERE! THAT'S CAPITAL! STAND STILL, BOTTLES, AND I'LL SHOW YOU HOW THE CHINESE DO THE KNIFE TRICK AT THE PLAY." [BOTTLES _is much interested._] [Illustration: _THE NEW ACT._ _Hansom Cabby._ "H'M! SIXPENCE, YOU HAD BETTER KEEP IT. YOU MAY WANT IT FOR YOUR WASHING OR SOMETHINK!"] [Illustration: _DISCERNMENT._ _Clever Child._ "OH! DO LOOK HERE, MAMMA DEAR, SUCH A FUNNY THING! MR. BOKER'S GOT ANOTHER FOREHEAD AT THE BACK OF HIS HEAD." [BOKER _is delighted_.] [Illustration: _INNOCENT AND AMUSING LITTLE TRICK FOR LITTLE BOYS._ AN OLD LADY IS CROSSING THE STREET, WHEN A LITTLE BOY SHOUTS OUT--"HI!" AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE. THE OLD LADY (ALTHOUGH INDEED THERE IS NO REAL CAUSE FOR ALARM) STARTS, AND BECOMES GREATLY AGITATED, AND IMAGINES THAT SHE IS RUN OVER BY AN OMNIBUS. THIS IS AN EXCEEDINGLY PLEASANT TRICK.] [Illustration: _SOLICITUDE._ _Child (screams and without any stops)._ "HANNER MARIA YER TIRESOME HAGGERWATIN' LITTLE USSY COME OUT OF THE ROAD DO WITH YER LITTLE BROTHER DID YER WANT TO BE RUNNED OVER BY OMNIBUSTES AND KILLED DEAD OH DEAR OH DEAR WHO'D BE A NUSS?"] [Illustration: _ANOTHER._ THIS IS EQUALLY DIVERTING. A LITTLE BOY RUSHES BY AN OLD GENTLEMAN AND "YOWLS" LIKE A DOG. THE OLD GENTLEMAN IS TERRIFIED BEYOND MEASURE. IF AT THE SAME TIME THE LITTLE BOY SHOULD ALSO PINCH THE LEG OF THE OLD GENTLEMAN, THE FORCE OF THE JOKE IS MUCH HEIGHTENED; BUT THEN INDEED HE MUST HAVE COURAGE, AND BE VERY ADROIT, OR HE MAY CHANCE TO GET A GREAT BANG FROM AN UMBRELLA OR STICK.] [Illustration: _AWKWARD._ _Railway Porter._ "NOW THEN, SIR! BY YOUR LEAVE!"] [Illustration: _THE BEARD MOVEMENT.--GAMMONING A GENT._ _Little Gent._ "'OW MUCH?" _Cabby._ "WELL, I'D RATHER LEAVE IT TO YOU, SIR! AND WHAT WE POOR HANSOMS IS TO DO WHEN ALL YOU OFFICERS IS GONE ABROAD, GOODNESS KNOWS."] [Illustration: _AWFUL SCENE ON THE CHAIN PIER, BRIGHTON._ _Nursemaid._ "LAWK! THERE GOES CHARLEY, AND HE'S TOOK HIS MAR'S PARASOL. WHAT WILL MISSUS SAY?"] [Illustration: _A LUMPING PENN'ORTH._ "NOW, MY MAN, WHAT WOULD YOU SAY, IF I GAVE YOU A PENNY?" "VY, THAT YOU VOS A JOLLY OLD BRICK!"] [Illustration: _RATHER SUSPICIOUS!_ _Sentimental Young Lady._ "WILL YOU BE SO OBLIGING, MR. TONGS, AS TO CUT OFF A LONG PIECE OF HAIR WHERE IT WILL NOT BE MISSED?"] [Illustration: _ALARMING._ THE OLD LADY IS SUPPOSED (AFTER A GREAT EFFORT) TO HAVE MADE UP HER MIND TO TRAVEL, JUST FOR ONCE, BY ONE "OF THOSE NEW-FANGLED RAILWAYS," AND THE FIRST THING SHE BEHOLDS ON ARRIVING AT THE STATION, IS THE ABOVE MOST ALARMING PLACARD.] [Illustration: _A SKETCH AT RAMSGATE._ _Ellen (who loves a joke at AUNT FIDGET'S expense)._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, AUNT, THERE ARE TWO OFFICERS!" _Aunt Fidget (a short-sighted lady)._ "BLESS ME, SO THERE ARE! WELL; THEY MAY BE OFFICERS, BUT THEY ARE NOT GENTLEMEN, I'M SURE, OR THEY WOULDN'T STAND LOOKING AT US IN THAT IMPUDENT MANNER."] [Illustration: _A PICTURE._ SHOWING WHAT MASTER TOM DID AF-TER SEE-ING A PAN-TO-MIME--BUT YOU WOULD NOT DO SO--OH DEAR NO!--BECAUSE YOU ARE A GOOD BOY.] [Illustration: _EASILY SATISFIED._ _Fond Parent._ "I DON'T CARE, MR. MEDIUM, ABOUT ITS BEING HIGHLY FINISHED; BUT I SHOULD LIKE THE DEAR CHILD'S EXPRESSION PRESERVED."] [Illustration: _A GREAT LOSS._ _Rapid Undergraduate._ "WELL, JACKSON! YOU SEE THEY'VE PLUCKED ME AGAIN." _Porter of St. Boniface._ "YE-ES, SIR, I WAS VERY SORRY WHEN I 'EARD OF IT, SIR." _Undergraduate._ "AH! I DID INTEND GOING INTO THE CHURCH, AND BEING AN ORNAMENT TO THE PROFESSION--BUT AS THEY WON'T LET ME THROUGH--I THINK--I SHALL CUT THE WHOLE CONCERN."] [Illustration: _RATHER A BAD LOOK-OUT._ _Young Sister._ "I SHOULD SO LIKE TO GO TO A PARTY, MA." _Mamma._ "MY DEAR, DON'T BE RIDICULOUS. AS I HAVE TOLD YOU BEFORE (I AM SURE A HUNDRED AND FIFTY TIMES), THAT UNTIL FLORA IS MARRIED, IT IS UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO GO OUT; SO DO NOT ALLUDE TO THE SUBJECT AGAIN, I BEG."] [Illustration: _A DREADFUL SHOCK TO THE NERVES._ "PLEASE, MEM, LET'S COME UNDER YOUR RUMBERELLER!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. V. MR. BRIGGS, DETERMINED TO HAVE NO MORE INFERIOR HORSES, GIVES A GOOD ROUND SUM FOR "A CLEVER COB--UP TO GREAT WEIGHT--AND THAT A CHILD MIGHT RIDE." HE HAS SOME FRIENDS (WHO REALLY KNOW WHAT A HORSE IS) TO DINE WITH HIM, WHOSE OPINIONS HE WISHES TO HAVE. _First Friend._ "AH--VERY NICE--VERY NICE--BUT NOT MY SORT--BEEN KNOCKED ABOUT A GOOD DEAL, I SHOULD SAY--DRIVEN IN A BUTCHER'S CART, PERHAPS, AND SOLD BECAUSE HE WASN'T FAST ENOUGH."----_Second Ditto._ "HE HASN'T BEEN DOWN, BRIGGS, HAS HE? IS THAT A SCRATCH, OR IS IT ONLY THE LIGHT?"----_Third Ditto._ "DOES HE SHY AT ALL? HIS EYES DON'T LOOK QUITE THE THING."----_Fourth Ditto._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, BRIGGS, YOU MUST HAVE HIM LOOKED AFTER A LITTLE BETTER, OR HE'LL VERY SOON HAVE A CRACKED HEEL."----_Fifth Ditto._ "THAT HOCK SEEMS RATHER QUEER," &c., &c., &c.] [Illustration: _A STARTLING REQUEST._ "PLEASE, SIR, WILL YOU PUMP FOR ME?"] [Illustration: _CUT HIM DOWN BEHIND!_] [Illustration: _DELICATE._ '_Bus Conductor._ "WOULD ANY LADY BE SO KIND AS TO RIDE OUTSIDE TO OBLIGE A _GENTLEMAN_?"] [Illustration: _CONFOUND THE SHOPS!_ _Mrs. ----._ "OH! DO LOOK HERE, DEAR! HOW EXTREMELY PRETTY THE AUTUMN FASHIONS ARE, TO BE SURE. WHAT A PERFECTLY LOVELY LITTLE CLOAK!" _Mr. ---- (rapidly changing the subject)._ "YES. YES! BEAUTIFUL! BEAUTIFUL! BUT SEE, LOVE, WHAT A MAGNIFICENT BROWN HORSE, AND HOW SPLENDIDLY THAT FELLOW SITS HIM!"] [Illustration: _VERY LOW PEOPLE._ _Purveyor of Poultry._ "WHAT SORT O' PEOPLE ARE THEY AT NUMBER TWELVE, JACK?" _Purveyor of Meat._ "OH! A RUBBISHIN' LOT. LEG O' MUTTON A' MONDAYS, AND 'ASH AN' COLD MEAT THE REST O' THE WEEK."] [Illustration: _POOR TOMMY._ "WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH TOMMY?" "BOO! HOO! I'VE CUT MY FINGER WITH AUNT'S SCISSORS." "THAT'S A GOOD BOY! ALWAYS SPEAK THE TRUTH!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. VI. MR. BRIGGS (_at an alarming sacrifice_) GETS RID OF HORSE NO. I., AND GOES OUT FOR A RIDE IN THE COUNTRY UPON NO. II. _Carman._ "FELL DOWN, HAS HE, SIR? AH, HE LOOKS AS IF HE COULD BE WERRY CLEVER AT THAT.--WERRY ORKERD THING, SIR, FOR A OSS TO FALL DOWN, SIR. OSSES OOSTES A GOOD BIT O' MONEY--LEASTWAYS, GENTLEMEN'S OSSES DOES.--NOW, JIST LOOK AT MY LITTLE OSS, SIR, AND HE'S A POOR MAN'S OSS, HE IS. HE DON'T GO FALLIN' ABOUT." (_Exit._)] [Illustration: No. VII. MR BRIGGS RIDES(!) HOME, AND WONDERS WHAT MRS. BRIGGS WILL SAY.] [Illustration: _AWFUL INSTANCE OF PERCEPTION OF CHARACTER IN AN INFANT PRODIGY._ _Prodigy._ "MAMMA, LOOK DERE! DERE PAPA!"] [Illustration: _EASILY PLEASED._ _Disciple of Old Isaac._ "THIS WOULDN'T BE A BAD PLACE, IF THE FISH WOULD ONLY BITE, AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THIS CONFOUNDED WASPS' NEST."] [Illustration: _DELICACY OF THE SEASON._ _Testy Old Uncle (unable to control his passion)._ "REALLY, SIR, THIS IS QUITE INTOLERABLE! YOU MUST INTEND TO INSULT ME. FOR THE LAST FOURTEEN DAYS, WHEREVER I HAVE DINED, I HAVE HAD NOTHING BUT SADDLE OF MUTTON AND BOILED TURKEY--BOILED TURKEY AND SADDLE OF MUTTON. I'LL ENDURE IT NO LONGER." [_Exit Old Gent., who alters his Will._] [Illustration: _THE BANDS OF HOPE; OR, THE CHILDISH TEETOTAL MOVEMENT._ _Grandpapa._ "BUT FOR SEVENTY YEARS, MY CHILD, I HAVE FOUND THAT THE MODERATE USE OF THE GOOD THINGS OF THIS LIFE HAS DONE ME GOOD." _Young Hopeful Teetotaller._ "ALL A MISTAKE, GRANDPA', TOTAL ABSTINENCE IS THE THING. LOOK AT ME! I'VE NOT TASTED WINE OR BEER FOR YEARS!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES Of HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. VIII. MR. BRIGGS'S PRESENT HORSE DOESN'T QUITE SUIT HIM, FOR, SOMEHOW, WHENEVER HE JUMPS, MR. B. IS SURE TO FALL OFF. HE TAKES HIM TO AN EMINENT DEALER, AND REMARKS CONFIDENTLY THAT HE IS FOR SALE, UPON WHICH THE DEALER SAYS: "HOW MUCH A POUND IF HE BUYS THE WHOLE OF HIM?"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE BIT OF HUMBUG._ _Shoemaker._ "I THINK, MUM, WE HAD BETTER MAKE A PAIR. YOU SEE, MUM, YOURS IS SUCH A REMARKABLY LONG AND NARRER FOOT!"] [Illustration: _CHURCH AND STATE._] [Illustration: _NOT TO BE PLAYED WITH._ _Groom._ "THAT'S ANOTHER FAVOURITE OSS OF MASTER'S, SIR, AND A GOOD UN HE IS TOO, SIR, ONLY HE AIN'T VERY QUIET." _Mr. Green._ "OH, HOW DO YOU MEAN--'NOT VERY QUIET?'" _Groom._ "WHY, SIR, HE'D GET YOU UP IN A CORNER, AND KICK YER BRAINS OUT IN NO TIME. HE'S A'MOST KILLED TWO MEN ALREADY."] [Illustration: _BARRACK LIFE._ _First Heavy Swell (lately absent)._ "WELL, 'GUS, MY BOY--HOW DID YOU KEEP IT UP HERE ON CHRISTMAS DAY?" _Second Do._ "OH! IT WAS TERRIBLY SLOW--FOR ALL THE WORLD LIKE A SUNDAY WITHOUT 'BELL'S LIFE!'"] [Illustration: _NORTH-EAST WIND, THERMOMETER SEVERAL INCHES BELOW FREEZING._ _Brighton Boatman._ "DID YOU WANT A PLEASURE BOAT THIS MORNING, SIR? NICE DAY FOR A ROW!!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: No. IX. THE FROST GOES, AND MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE IS DISAGREEABLY FRESH AFTER HIS LONG REST. HE SETS UP HIS BACK AND SQUEAKS AND PLUNGES AT EVERYTHING HE MEETS.] [Illustration: _A PLAYFUL CREATURE._ _Cabby._ "DON'T BE ALARMED, SIR, IT'S ONLY HIS PLAY."] [Illustration: _THE MORNING AFTER THE DERBY._ _First Gent._ "WELL, NED, HOW DID WE GET HOME LAST NIGHT?" _Second Gent._ "OH, I DON'T KNOW! DIDN'T I GO HOME WITH YOU?"] [Illustration: _A MAN ABOUT TOWN._ "WHERE SHALL I SAY YOU'RE GONE TO, JIM, IF ANYONE CALLS?" "OH, THE OLD SHOP--KENSINGTON GARDENS, TO HEAR THE BAND PLAY!"] [Illustration: _TASTE._ "THAT'S A STUNNING PIN, FRANK!" "YA-AS.--I'VE GOT A SET OF WAISTCOAT BUTTONS TO MATCH--LOOK JOLLY AT NIGHT--I ASSURE YAH!"] [Illustration: _MR. VERDANT'S FIRST ATTEMPT AT BOOK-MAKING._ _Verdant's Friend._ "WELL--AS NEAR AS I CAN MAKE IT OUT--YOU _MUST_ LOSE £150, AND _MAY_ LOSE £300." [VERDANT _subsides into his Book_.] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. I. _PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS OF MR. BRIGGS'S HUNTING FEVER._ _Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MA'AM, THERE'S A YOUTH IN THE PASSAGE AS WANTS TO KNOW IF THESE TOP BOOTS IS ALL RIGHT."] [Illustration: PLAIN SPEAKING. _Amiable Young Lady No. 1._ "PRETTY! OH, DEAR NO--DO YOU?" _Amiable Young Lady No. 2._ "LAW! NOT AT ALL. BESIDES, HOW ABOMINABLY AFFECTED SHE IS!"] [Illustration: _FANCY DRESS BALL._ "SIR!--PLEASE, MR.!--SIR! YOU'VE FORGOT THE DOOR-KEY!"] [Illustration: _HOW TO DRESS A LOBSTER._ _Rude Boy._ "OH, LOOK 'ERE, JIM!--IF 'ERE AIN'T A LOBSTER BIN AND OUTGROWED HIS CLOAK!"] [Illustration: _ADVICE GRATIS._ _Ellen._ "OH, DON'T TEASE ME TO-DAY, CHARLEY; I'M NOT AT ALL WELL!" _Charley (a Man of the World)._ "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, COUSIN--THE FACT IS, YOU ARE IN LOVE! NOW, YOU TAKE THE ADVICE OF A FELLOW WHO HAS SEEN A GOOD DEAL OF THAT SORT OF THING, AND DON'T GIVE WAY TO IT."] [Illustration: _VERY PROPER DIET FOR HOT WEATHER._ _Mrs. Turtledove._ "DEAREST ALFRED! WILL YOU DECIDE NOW WHAT WE SHALL HAVE FOR DINNER?" _Mr. Turtledove._ "LET ME SEE, POPPET. WE HAD A WAFER YESTERDAY--SUPPOSE WE HAVE A ROAST BUTTERFLY TO-DAY?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. II. _PREPARATIONS FOR HUNTING._ MR BRIGGS'S HUNTING CAP COMES HOME, BUT THAT IS REALLY A THING MRS. BRIGGS CAN NOT AND WILL NOT PUT UP WITH.] [Illustration: _A FINE DISPOSITION._ _Affectionate Husband._ "COME, POLLY, IF I AM A LITTLE IRRITABLE, IT'S OVER IN A MINUTE!!"] [Illustration: _THE PROBABLE EFFECT OF CHEAP FURNITURE HUMBUG._ "OH! IF YOU PLEASE, MISTER, ME AND THIS YOUNG AW-AW-INDIVIDUAL IS ABOUT TO MARRY; AND WE WANT TO LOOK OVER YOUR CHEAP FURNITURE MART."] [Illustration: _A JOLLY DOG._ "LOOK HERE, JAMES!--OLD MISSUS IS GONE OUT OF TOWN, AND I'VE GOT HER BEAST OF A DOG WOT'S FED UPON CHICKINGS TO TAKE CARE OF.--WON'T I TEACH HIM TO SWIM, NEETHER!"] [Illustration: _AN IMPUDENT MINX._ _Lady of the House._ "HOITY TOITY, INDEED! GO AND PUT UP THOSE CURLS DIRECTLY, IF YOU PLEASE. HOW DARE YOU IMITATE ME IN THAT MANNER? IMPERTINENCE!"] [Illustration: _THE CHATELAINE; A REALLY USEFUL PRESENT._ _Laura._ "OH. LOOK, MA' DEAR; SEE WHAT A _LOVE_ OF A CHATELAINE EDWARD HAS GIVEN ME."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. III. MR. BRIGGS, ON HIS WAY TO THE "METROPOLITAN STEEPLE CHASE," TRIES WHETHER HIS HORSE IS A GOOD ONE ACROSS COUNTRY. HE IS REPRESENTED RIDING AT A BROOK(!).] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTARY._ "'OLD 'ARD, BILL! HERE'S ANOTHER HIPPERPOTAMUS."] [Illustration: _THE GOLD FISH AT HAMPTON COURT._] [Illustration: _LAYING THE DUST._] [Illustration: _A SKETCH FROM NATURE, TAKEN NEAR THE FREEMASONS' TAVERN._ _Old Gentleman._ "GOOD GRACIOUS! IT'S STRIKING, AND THEY'LL HAVE BEGUN DINNER."] [Illustration: _THE RISING GENERATION._ _Juvenile Oxford Man (who does not think Vin Ordinaire of himself)._ "A--WERE YOU AT EITHER UNIVERSITY?" _Awful Swell._ "YA-AS--WHEN I WAS A--BOY!" [OXFORD MAN _departs in a Hansom_.] [Illustration: _DISTWESSING--VEWY._ _X. 42._ "DID YOU CALL THE POLICE, SIR?" _Swell (who would perish rather than disturb his shirt-collar)._ "YA-AS, A--I'VE HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO DWOP MY UMBRELLAW, AND THERE ISN'T A BOY WITHIN A MILE TO PICK IT UP--A--WILL YOU HAVE THE GOODNESS?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. IV. MR. BRIGGS GOES OUT FOR A DAY'S HUNTING, AND HAS A GLORIOUS RUN OVER A SPLENDID COUNTRY.] [Illustration: _INGENIOUS IDEA._ ELEGANT MATERIAL FOR TROWSERS--ONLY TAKES TWO MEN TO SHOW THE PATTERN.] [Illustration: _NO DOUBT._ "NOW I DARE SAY, BILL, THAT AIR BEAST OF A DOG IS A GOOD DEAL MORE PETTED THAN YOU OR I SHOULD BE."] [Illustration: _EXCESSIVELY POLITE._ _Well-bred Man._ "YOUR HORSE SEEMS A LITTLE IMPATIENT, SIR! PRAY GO FIRST!"] [Illustration: _THE CONSCIENTIOUS STABLE-KEEPER._ _Gent (who meditates a ride)._ "HALLO! WHY, CONFOUND IT. THAT'S MY SADDLE HORSE, ISN'T IT?" _Fly-Man._ "YES, SIR! IT'S ALL RIGHT; MASTER SAYS YOU'RE WERRY PARTICULAR ABOUT 'AVIN OF 'IM EXERCISED REGULAR--SO WE PUTS 'IM INTO THE BROOM WHEN YOU AIN'T OUT A RIDIN'!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. V. MR. BRIGGS PUTS HIS HORSE IN HARNESS, AND DRIVES A FEW FRIENDS QUIETLY DOWN TO THE DERBY.] [Illustration: _DIFFERENT OPINIONS._ _Housebreaker._ "WOT A SHAME FOR PEOPLE TO GO LEAVING COAL-SCUTTLES ABOUT FOR PEOPLE TO GO STUMBLING OVER!"] [Illustration: _SCENE--WESTMINSTER BRIDGE.--TIME, TWO ON A FOGGY MORNING._ _Reduced Tradesman (to a little party returning home)._ "DID YOU WANT TO BUY A GOOD RAZOR?"] [Illustration: _FOREIGNER OF DISTINCTION GOING TO ENJOY "LE SPORT."_] [Illustration: _THE NEW HUNTER._ "WELL, CHARLEY! HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR NEW PONY?" "OH! PRETTY WELL, THANK YOU, UNCLE; ONLY I'M AFRAID HE'S HARDLY UP TO MY WEIGHT, AND HE RUSHES SO AT HIS FENCES."] [Illustration: _AFTER THE PANTOMIME._ _Mary._ "OH! HOW I SHOULD LIKE TO BE A BEAUTIFUL COLUMBINE, AND RIDE ABOUT IN A GOLD CAR DRAWN BY WHITE DOVES!" _Augustus._ "AND HOW I SHOULD LIKE TO BE A HARLEQUIN, AND CHANGE WHOLE STREETS INTO REALMS OF DAZZLING DELIGHT!" _Tom (a rude Boy)._ "AND HOW I SHOULD LIKE TO BE THE OLD CLOWN, AND MAKE BUTTER SLIDES ON THE PAVEMENT TO UPSET OLD LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"] [Illustration: _TOO CIVIL BY HALF!_ _English Cook._ "OH, DEAR! HERE, JAMES, COME, AND TAKE THIS ROAST BEEF AND PLUM-PUDDING OUT OF THE WINDOW. IT HURTS THE FEELINGS OF THE FOREIGN GENTS AS THEY WALK BY!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. VI. ON HIS RETURN FROM THE RACES, HE ASSURES HIS MAN THAT HE'S A MOST "EKSHELLENT SERVANT"--THAT THE MARE NEVER CARRIED HIM BETTER. HE ALSO TELLS HIM TO MAKE THE MARE QUITE "COMF-ABLE," AND TO BE "VERY CAREF-L OF HISH CANDLE," BECAUSE THERE'S SO MUCH STRAW ABOUT!] [Illustration: _THAMES FISHING._ _Fisherman (to Old Gentleman)._ "THEY'RE A' BITIN' AWAY OVER 'ERE, SIR! JUST STEP ACROSS THAT THERE BIT O' WOOD, SIR, AND YOU'LL HAVE A CAPITAL PITCH, SIR!" _Old Gentleman._ "ACROSS THAT BIT OF WOOD! DOES THE MAN THINK I'M A ROPE-DANCER?"] [Illustration: _GOING TO COVER._ _Voice in the distance._ "NOW, THEN, SMITH--COME ALONG!" _Smith._ "OH, IT'S ALL VERY WELL TO SAY, COME ALONG! WHEN HE WON'T MOVE A STEP; AND I'M AFRAID HE'S GOING TO LIE DOWN."] [Illustration: _A SON AND HEIR._ _Son and Heir._ "HOW MANY OF US ARE THERE? WHY, IF YOU COUNT THE GIRLS, THERE ARE SIX--BUT SOME PEOPLE DON'T COUNT THE GIRLS.--_I'M ONE!_"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. VII. MR. BRIGGS, NOT BEING GOOD AT HIS "FENCES," GOES THROUGH THE PERFORMANCE OF OPENING A GATE.] [Illustration: _LOVE ON THE OCEAN._ "'OH! IS THERE NOT SOMETHING, DEAR AUGUSTUS, TRULY SUBLIME IN THIS WARRING OF THE ELEMENTS?' BUT AUGUSTUS'S HEART WAS TOO FULL TO SPEAK."--_MS. Novel by Lady * * *._] [Illustration: _THE RISING GENERATION._ _Juvenile._ "UNCLE!" _Uncle._ "NOW THEN, WHAT IS IT? THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME YOU'VE WOKE ME UP, SIR!" _Juvenile._ "OH! JUST PUT A FEW COALS ON THE FIRE, AND PASS THE WINE, THAT'S A GOOD OLD CHAP."] [Illustration: _RELIGION À LA MODE._ _Housemaid._ "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, PARKER, I SHALL BE VERY GLAD WHEN MISSUS HAS GOT TIRED OF THIS PUSEY-USM. IT MAY BE THE FASHION; BUT WHAT WITH HER COMIN' HOME LATE FROM PARTIES, AND GETTING UP FOR EARLY SERVICE, AND THEN GOIN' TO BED AGAIN, WE POOR SARVINTS HAS DOUBLE WORK A'MOST."] [Illustration: _STRANGE, BUT TRUE._ _Lady._ "BY THE WAY, MR. TONGS, I HAVE USED THAT BOTTLE OF BALM OF CALIFORNIA, BUT I FIND MY HAIR STILL COMES OFF."] [Illustration: _VERY ACUTE._ _Mr._ ----. "SO YOUR NAME IS CHARLEY, IS IT? NOW, CHARLEY DOESN'T KNOW WHO I AM?" _Sharp Little Boy._ "OH, YES! BUT I DO, THOUGH." _Mr._ ----. "WELL, WHO AM I?" _Sharp Little Boy._ "WHY, YOU'RE THE GENTLEMAN THAT KISSED SISTER SOPHY IN THE LIBRARY, ON TWELFTH NIGHT, WHEN YOU THOUGHT NO ONE WAS THERE."] [Illustration: _GLORIOUS NEWS._ "WELL, RUGGLES, IT'S ALL RIGHT!" "WHAT'S ALL RIGHT?" "WHY! WE ARE TO HAVE MARIO AGAIN."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. VIII. _MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY WITH THE HOUNDS._ MR. BRIGGS CAN'T BEAR FLYING LEAPS, SO HE MAKES FOR A GAP--WHICH IS IMMEDIATELY FILLED BY A FRANTIC PROTECTIONIST, WHO IS VOWING THAT HE WILL PITCHFORK MR. B. IF HE COMES "GALLOPERRAVERING" OVER HIS FENCES--DANG'D IF HE DOAN'T.] [Illustration: _AN EYE TO BUSINESS._] [Illustration: _NOT A DIFFICULT THING TO FORETELL._ "LET THE POOR GIPSY TELL YOUR FORTUNE, MY PRETTY GENTLEMAN."] [Illustration: _FLOWERS OF THE FRENCH ARMY--PICKED AT PARIS._] [Illustration: _NOT YET!_] [Illustration: _HIGHLY INTERESTING._ "SEEN THAT PARTY LATELY?" "WHAT? THE PARTY WITH THE WOODEN LEG, AS COME WITH--" "NO, NO--NOT THAT PARTY. THE PARTY, YOU KNOW, AS--" "OH! AH! I KNOW THE PARTY YOU MEAN NOW." "WELL, A PARTY TOLD ME AS HE CAN'T AGREE WITH THAT OTHER PARTY, AND HE SAYS THAT IF ANOTHER PARTY CAN'T BE FOUND TO MAKE IT ALL SQUARE, HE SHALL LOOK FOR A PARTY AS WILL." (_And so on for half an hour._)] [Illustration: _SOUND ADVICE._ _Master Tom._ "HAVE A WEED, GRAN'PA?" _Gran'pa._ "A WHAT! SIR?" _Master Tom._ "A WEED!--A CIGAR, YOU KNOW." _Gran'pa._ "CERTAINLY NOT, SIR. I NEVER SMOKED IN MY LIFE." _Master Tom._ "AH! THEN I WOULDN'T ADVISE YOU TO BEGIN."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. IX. MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER GLORIOUS DAY WITH THE HOUNDS, AND GETS THE BRUSH (FOR WHICH HE PAYS HALF-A-SOVEREIGN--ONLY DON'T TELL ANYBODY).] [Illustration: _AWFUL POSITION DURING A STORM._] [Illustration: _DOG-DAYS! PLEASANT FOR JOHN THOMAS._ _Old Lady._ "JOHN THOMAS!" _John Thomas._ "YES, MY LADY!" _Old Lady._ "CARRY ESMERALDA--SHE'S GETTING TIRED, POOR DARLING!"] [Illustration: _ALARMING._ _Hairdresser._ "THEY SAY, SIR, THE CHOLERA'S IN THE _H_AIR, SIR!" _Gent. (very uneasy)._ "INDEED! AHEM! THEN I HOPE YOU ARE VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT THE BRUSHES YOU USE." _Hairdresser._ "OH! I SEE YOU DON'T _H_UNDERSTAND ME, SIR. I DON'T MEAN THE 'AIR OF THE 'ED, BUT THE _H_AIR _H_OF THE _H_ATMOSPHERE!"] [Illustration: _TEMPUS EDAX RERUM._ "GOOD GRACIOUS! IS IT POSSIBLE?--NO! YES! NO!--YES! YES, BY JUPITER, IT'S A GREY HAIR IN MY FAVOURITE WHISKER!"] [Illustration: _A ROMANCE OF ROAST DUCKS._ "MY DARLING, WILL YOU TAKE A LITTLE OF THE--A--THE STUFFING?" "I WILL, DEAR, IF YOU DO; BUT IF YOU DON'T, I WON'T."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. X. IN ANSWER TO NUMEROUS INQUIRIES, WE ARE HAPPY TO SAY, THAT MR. BRIGGS IS QUITE WELL, AND AT BRIGHTON. HE IS TAKING THE OPPORTUNITY TO GIVE HIS FAMILY A FEW RIDING LESSONS. WE SHOULDN'T WONDER IF HE WENT OUT WITH THE HARRIERS IN A DAY OR TWO.] [Illustration: _THE HONEYMOON._ AUGUSTUS MAKES THE TEA FOR THE FIRST MONTH OF HIS MARRIAGE.] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. XI. _MR. BRIGGS GOES OUT WITH THE BRIGHTON HARRIERS._ HE HAS A CAPITAL DAY. THE ONLY DRAWBACK IS, THAT HE IS OBLIGED TO LEAD HIS HORSE _UP_ HILL TO EASE HIM, AND _DOWN_ HILL BECAUSE HE IS AFRAID OF GOING OVER HIS HEAD--SO THAT HE DOESN'T GET QUITE SO MUCH HORSE EXERCISE AS HE COULD WISH!] [Illustration: _PRIVATE THEATRICALS._ DISMAY OF MR. JAMES JESSAMMY ON BEING TOLD THAT HE WILL SPOIL THE WHOLE THING IF HE DOESN'T SHAVE OFF HIS WHISKERS.] [Illustration: _TOWN AND COUNTRY._ _Country Footman meekly inquires of London Footman._ "PRAY, SIR, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF OUR TOWN? A NICE PLACE, AIN'T IT?" _London Footman (condescendingly)._ "VELL, JOSEPH, I LIKES YOUR TOWN WELL ENOUGH. IT'S CLEAN; YOUR STREETS ARE HAIRY; AND YOU'VE LOTS OF REWINS. BUT I DON'T LIKE YOUR CHAMPAGNE; ITS ALL GEWSBERRY."] [Illustration: _AN IMPENDING DISASTER._ _Boy._ "OH! IF YOU PLEASE'M--COOK'S VERY SORRY'M--BUT COULD SHE SPEAK TO YOU A MOMENT?"] _MORE FREE THAN WELCOME._ [Illustration: _Scene--The Kitchen._ _Cook._ "WHO WAS THAT AT THE DOOR, MARY?" _Mary._ "OH! SUCH A NICE-SPOKEN GENTLEMAN WITH MOUSTARCHERS. HE'S A WRITIN' A LETTER IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. HE SAYS HE'S A OLD SCHOOL-FELLER OF MASTER'S, JUST COME FROM INGIA." [Illustration: _Scene--The Hall._ THE NICE-SPOKEN GENTLEMAN IS SEEN DEPARTING WITH WHAT GREAT-COATS AND OTHER TRIFLES HE MAY HAVE LAID HIS HANDS UPON.] [Illustration: _WALTONIANS._ _Scene.--Room in Country House.--Breakfast-Table._ _Master Tom._ "OH, ROBERT!" _Robert._ "YES, SIR!" _Master Tom._ "OH, I SAY, ROBERT! THE LADIES WANT ME TO TAKE 'EM OUT FISHING TO-DAY. SO JUST TELL YOUNG EVANS I SHALL WANT HIM TO GO WITH ME TO GET SOME WASP GRUBS; AND--LOOK HERE! TELL THE GARDENER HE MUST GET ME SOME LARGE LOBWORMS DIRECTLY, AND A FEW SMALL FROGS, AS PERHAPS WE SHALL TRY FOR A JACK. AND--HI! ROBERT, TELL HIM TO SEND 'EM IN HERE, THAT I MAY SEE WHETHER THEY'RE THE RIGHT SORT!" [_General Exclamation of "Nasty Monkey!" from the Ladies. Old Gentleman being rather deaf, wishes_ MASTER TOM'S _remarks repeated_.] [Illustration: _FISHING OFF A WATERING PLACE._ PERHAPS THE JOLLIEST THING IN THE WORLD(!)] [Illustration: _A MAN OF FEELING._ _Gentleman._ "OH, CERTAINLY! YOU CAN GO, OF COURSE; BUT, AS YOU HAVE BEEN WITH ME FOR NINE YEARS, I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE REASON." _Thomas._ "WHY, SIR, ITS MY _FEELINS_. YOU USED ALWAYS TO READ PRAYERS, SIR, YOURSELF--AND SINCE MISS WILKINS HAS BEEN HERE, SHE'S BIN A-READING OF 'EM. NOW, I CAN'T _BEMEAN_ MYSELF BY SAYIN' 'AMEN' TO A GUV'NESS."] [Illustration: _THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS._ _Serious Flunkey._ "I SHOULD REQUIRE, MADAM, FORTY POUNDS A YEAR, TWO SUITS OF CLOTHES, TWO 'ATS, MEAT AND HALE THREE TIMES A DAY, AND PIETY HINDISPENSABLE."] [Illustration: _A FRAGMENT._ "AND WILL YOU ALWAYS--ALWAYS, DEAREST ALBERIC, LOVE ME THUS?" SAID CONSTANCE. "EVER, WHILE THIS HEART BEATS WITH LIFE!" PASSIONATELY EXCLAIMED ALBERIC. "THEN COULD YOU LEND ME FIVE POUNDS?" MURMURED THE LADY; "FOR REALLY THINGS ARE SO BAD IN THE CITY, THAT I," &C., &C., &C.] [Illustration: _A FALSE POSITION._ _Individual (who is not over strong in his head, or firm on his legs)._ "D-D-D-D-ID WALTZING--EVER--MAKE--YOU--GIDDY? BECAUSE, I--SHALL--BE--HAPPY--TO--SIT--DOWN--WHENEVER--YOU'RE--TIRED!" _Girl (who is in high dancing condition)._ "OH, DEAR NO--I COULD WALTZ ALL NIGHT!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW BONNET._ _Frederick._ "THERE NOW, HOW VERY PROVOKING! I'VE LEFT THE PRAYER-BOOKS AT HOME!" _Maria._ "WELL, DEAR, NEVER MIND; BUT DO TELL ME, _IS MY BONNET STRAIGHT_?"] [Illustration: _IN CAMP.--HOSPITALITY._ _Officer._ "WELL, BUT LOOK HERE, OLD FELLOW; WHY NOT STOP ALL NIGHT?"] [Illustration: _A GREAT MENTAL EFFORT._ _First Cock Sparrow._ "WHAT A MIWACKULOUS TYE, FWANK! HOW THE DOOSE DO YOU MANAGE IT?" _Second Cock Sparrow._ "YAS. I FANCY IT IS RATHER GRAND; BUT THEN, YOU SEE, I GIVE THE WHOLE OF MY MIND TO IT."] [Illustration: _COMING HOME._ _Old Party (who is taking care of the house)._ "OH, YES, SIR. YOU'LL FIND THE ROOM NICE AN' CLEAN--AN' I'M SURE THE BED'S HAIRED--FOR I'VE BIN AN' SLEP IN IT MY OWN SELF HEVERY NIGHT."] [Illustration: _OH! THE CURTAINS._ _Objectionable Child._ "LOR, PA! ARE YOU GOING TO SMOKE? MY EYE! WON'T YOU CATCH IT WHEN MA COMES HOME, FOR MAKING THE CURTAINS SMELL!"] [Illustration: _DISTRACTION._ _Wife of your Bussum._ "OH, I DON'T WANT TO INTERRUPT YOU, DEAR. I ONLY WANT SOME MONEY FOR BABY'S SOCKS--AND TO KNOW WHETHER YOU WILL HAVE THE MUTTON COLD OR HASHED."] [Illustration: _A VERY VULGAR SUBJECT._ _William._ "HERE'S WISHIN' YOU GOOD 'EALTH, JIM, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!" _James._ "THANK'YE, BILL, THANK'YE. I HAD OUGHT TO BE A HAPPY COVE--FOR I'VE GOT A WIFE AS CAN THRASH ANY MAN OF HER WEIGHT--AND I'VE GOT A CHILD OF TWO YEARS AND A ARF AS CAN EAT TWO POUNDS O' BEEFSTEAK AT A SITTING--LET ALONE OWNIN' THE SMALLEST BLACK AND TAN TERRIER IN THE WORLD!"] [Illustration: _A DELICIOUS SAIL--OFF DOVER._ _Old Lady._ "GOODNESS GRACIOUS, MR. BOATMAN! WHAT'S THAT?" _Stolid Boatman._ "THAT, MUM! NUTHUN, MUM. ONLY THE ARTILLERY A PRAC-_TI_-SIN', AND THAT'S ONE O' THE CANNON-BALLS WHAT'S JUST STRUCK THE WATER!!"] [Illustration: _THE ROUND HAT, LADEN WITH NOVELS, IN A STORM._ _Ancient Mariner._ "HOLD ON A BIT, MISS--I'LL TOW YOU OFF--YOU SHOULD NEVER CARRY SO MUCH SAIL IN A SOU-WESTER!"] [Illustration: _SNOW-FLAKES._--No. 1. _Street Boy (to his natural enemy, the Policeman)._ "SNOWBALLS, SIR! NO, SIR! I HAVEN'T SEEN NO ONE THROW NO SNOWBALLS, SIR!"] [Illustration: _SNOW-FLAKES._--No. 2. _Street Boy._ "HOH! SOOSANNER! DON'T YER CRY FOR ME! FOL DE ROL DE RIDDLE LOL! HERE'S A JOLLY SLIDE! CUT AWAY, YOUNG 'UN! IT'S ALL SERENE!"] [Illustration: _SNOW-FLAKES._--No. 3. _Playful Youth._ "PLEASE, SIR, I WASN'T A HEAVIN' AT YOU--I WAS HEAVIN' AT BILLY JONES."] [Illustration: _THE BIRTHDAY._ _Cousin Emily._ "AND SO IT'S LITTLE ALFRED'S BIRTHDAY TO-MORROW. NOW, WHAT WOULD HE LIKE BEST FOR A PRESENT?" _Alfred (after much reflection)._ "WHY, I THINK I SHOULD LIKE A--I SHOULD LIKE A TESTAMENT--AND--A--A--AND--OH, _I_ KNOW! I SHOULD LIKE A SQUIRT!!"] [Illustration: _DIVISION OF LABOUR._ _Sportsman (in Standing Beans)._ "WHERE TO NOW, JACK?" _Jack._ "WELL! LET'S SEE! I SHOULD JUST GO UP THE BEANS AGAIN, AND ACROSS THE TOP END, BEAT DOWN THE OTHER SIDE AND ROUND BY THE BOTTOM; WHILE YOU'RE THERE, GET OVER AND TRY OLD HAYCOCK'S STANDING OATS--HE WON'T MIND--I'LL STOP HERE AND MARK!"] [Illustration: _A HARD RIDER._ _Man on the Grey (who comes Express pace over the Stile, and cannons against two quiet riders)._ "BEG PARDON, GENTLEMEN, BUT MY HORSE HAS GOT _NO MOUTH_!"] [Illustration: _BON-BON FROM A JUVENILE PARTY._ _Doctor._ "AHEM! WELL! AND WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH MY YOUNG FRIEND ADOLPHUS?" _Fond Mother._ "WHY, HE'S NOT AT ALL THE THING, DOCTOR. HE WAS AT A JUVENILE PARTY LAST NIGHT, WHERE THERE WAS A TWELFTH CAKE; AND IT PAINS ME TO SAY, THAT BESIDES EATING A GREAT DEAL TOO MUCH OF THE CAKE, HE WAS IMPRUDENT ENOUGH TO EAT A HARLEQUIN AND A MAN ON HORSEBACK, AND, I AM SORRY TO ADD, A CUPID AND A BIRDCAGE FROM THE TOP OF IT!"] [Illustration: _KNOWLEDGE IS POWER._ _Tom._ "JACK! WHEREABOUTS IS AMSTID--AM?" _Jack._ "WELL, I CAN'T SAY EXACKERLY, BUT I KNOW IT'S SOMEWHERE NEAR AMSTID-EATH!"] [Illustration: _HOW TO MAKE A CHATELAINE A REAL BLESSING TO MOTHERS._] [Illustration: _THE PIKE IS A VORACIOUS FISH, AND BITES VERY READILY IN THE WINTER MONTHS._ OLD GENTLEMAN IS _VERY_ FOND OF FISHING!!] [Illustration: _A NICE GAME AT BILLIARDS._ _Pretty Cousin._ "LET ME SEE, FREDERICK, I'M JUST EIGHTEEN TO YOUR LOVE?" _Frederick (who is always so ridiculous)._ "THAT IS PRECISELY THE STATE OF THE CASE, MY DEAREST GEORGINA." _Mamma (with severity)._ "COME, LUNCHEON IS QUITE READY."] [Illustration: _VERY FINE GENTLEMEN._ _Master of the House._ "NOW, PRAY WHAT IS IT YOU COMPLAIN OF? IS NOT A ROAST LEG OF MUTTON, WITH PLENTY OF PUDDING, VEGETABLES, AND BEER, A SUBSTANTIAL DINNER ENOUGH FOR YOU?" _Flunkey._ "OH! SUBSTANTIAL ENOUGH, NO DOUBT, SIR; BUT IT REALLY IS A _QUIZZEEN_ THAT--AW--ME AND THE OTHER GENTLEMEN HAS NOT BIN ACCUSTOMED TO. ITS VERY CORSE--VERY CORSE, INDEED, SIR!!"] [Illustration: _PLEASANT!_ _Nervous Gentleman._ "DON'T YOU THINK, ROBERT, GOING SO FAST DOWN HILL IS VERY LIKELY TO MAKE THE HORSE FALL?" _Robert._ "LOR BLESS YER--NO, SIR! I NEVER THROWED A OSS DOWN IN MY LIFE, 'XCEPT ONCE, AND THAT WAS ONE FROSTY MOONLIGHT NIGHT (JUST SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS IT WAS), AS I WAS A-DRIVIN' A GENT (AS MIGHT BE YOU) FROM THE STATION, WHEN I THROWED DOWN THIS WERRY OSS IN THIS WERRY IDENTICAL PLACE."] [Illustration: _A TIGHT FIT._ "YOUR BATH IS QUITE READY, MA'AM." "WELL BUT MY GOOD GIRL, I CAN'T GET INTO SUCH A BIT OF A THING AS THAT!"] [Illustration: _A PUZZLING ORDER._ "I'LL TROUBLE YOU TO MEASURE ME FOR A NEW PAIR OF BOOTS."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING. [Illustration: No. XII. MR. BRIGGS, STIMULATED BY THE ACCOUNTS IN THE NEWSPAPERS OF THE DARING FEAT OF HORSEMANSHIP AT AYLESBURY, AND EXCITED BY MR. HAYCOCK'S CLARET, TRIES WHETHER HE ALSO CAN RIDE OVER A DINING-ROOM TABLE.] [Illustration: _NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS (?)_ _First Old Foozle._ "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THE PAPER, SIR? THERE'S NOTHING IN IT." _Second Old Foozle._ "THEN WHAT THE DEVIL DID YOU KEEP IT SO LONG FOR?"] [Illustration: _A SUGGESTION._ _Driver._ "WHERE DID THE OLD GENT WANT TO GO TO, BILL?" _Conductor._ "VY, HE WANTED TO GO TO BLACKWALL IN A QUARTER OF AN HOUR." _Driver._ "OH! DID HE? THEN HE'D BETTER ORDER A BALLOON!!!"] [Illustration: _VALUABLE HINT._ ALWAYS BOLT THE DOOR OF YOUR MACHINE AFTER BATHING, OR YOU MAY BE SERVED AS POOR MR. BRIGGS WAS ONE DAY. HIS DISASTER IS REPRESENTED ABOVE.] [Illustration: _AN ARTFUL EXCUSE._ _Servant Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MEM. COULD I GO OUT FOR HALF-AN-HOUR TO BUY A BIT OF RIBBIN, MEM?"] [Illustration: _MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HUNTING, No. XIII. MR. BRIGGS HAS GONE TO THE EXHIBITION.--A BOY HOLDS HIS HORSE IN THE MEANTIME.] [Illustration: _A SKETCH OF CHARACTER BY PROFESSOR MILKANSOP, THE CELEBRATED GRAPHIOLOGIST._ _Gentleman (reads)._ "'INTELLIGENT; STRONG RELIGIOUS FEELINGS; FOND OF LITTLE CHILDREN; LOVES MUSIC, POETRY, AND THE FINE ARTS; IS RELUCTANT TO TAKE OFFENCE, GENEROUS AND FORGIVING.'--WELL, I'M BLOWED, IF THAT AIN'T WONDERFUL! WHY, ITS MY KARACTER TO A T!"] [Illustration: _AN INGENIOUS FELLOW._ "LOOK HERE, MY BOY! THE BOX MAKES A CAPITAL TABLE, AND THE BOOT IS JUST THE THING FOR YOUR LEGS." [_Pocket-book disappears._] [Illustration: _A WEIGHTY MATTER._ _Cavalry Officer (who rides about five stone)._ "I'M DOOCED GLAD WE'RE IN THE HEAVIES; AIN'T YOU, CHARLEY? IT WOULD BE A HORRID BORE TO BE SENT OUT TO THE CAPE LIKE THOSE POOR LIGHT BOBS."] [Illustration: _OUR YOUNG PEOPLE._ _Juvenile._ "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, GOVERNOR, THE SOONER WE COME TO SOME UNDERSTANDING THE BETTER. YOU CAN'T EXPECT A YOUNG FELLER TO BE ALWAYS AT HOME; AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE WAY I GO ON, WHY I MUST HAVE CHAMBERS, AND SO MUCH A-WEEK?"] [Illustration: _A PERSONAL OPINION._ _Elderly Spinster._ "SO, YOU'RE GOING TO BE MARRIED, DEAR, ARE YOU? WELL, FOR MY PART, I THINK NINE-HUNDRED-AND-NINETY-NINE MARRIAGES OUT OF A THOUSAND TURN OUT MISERABLY; BUT OF COURSE EVERY ONE IS THE BEST JUDGE OF THEIR OWN FEELINGS."] [Illustration: _LITTLE WOMEN._ _First Matron._ "HAS YOUR DOLL HAD THE MEASLES, AMELIA? MINE HAS--" _Second Matron._ "NO, DEAR, BUT IT'S BEEN VERY FRACTIOUS ABOUT ITS TEETH, AND I'M GOING TO GIVE IT A LITTLE GREY POWDER."] [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. No. 1. _OUR FRIEND BRIGGS CONTEMPLATES A DAY'S FISHING._] [Illustration: _A GROSS OFFENCE._ _Flunkey._ "HOW DARE YOU BRING ME A STEEL FORK, SIR!"] [Illustration: _CAUGHT._ _Domestic (soliloquising)_. "WELL! I'M SURE MISSUS HAD BETTER GIVE THIS NEW BONNET TO ME, INSTEAD OF STICKING SUCH A YOUNG-LOOKING THING UPON HER OLD SHOULDERS." (_The impudent minx has immediate warning_)] [Illustration: _STREET DIALOGUE._ _First Boy._ "I'LL PUNCH YER ED, IF YER SAY MUCH." _Second Boy._ "WHO'LL PUNCH MY ED?"--_First Boy._ "I WILL." _Second Boy._ "_YOU_ WILL?"--_First Boy._ "YES, _I_ WILL." _Second Boy._ "WELL!--DO IT."--_First Boy._ "AH!" _Second Boy._ "YES!"--_First Boy._ "OH!" [_Boys evaporate._] [Illustration: _A PRUDENT RESOLVE._ _'Ousemaid._ "WELL, MR. ROBERT, I SUPPOSE YOU'LL BE OFF TO THE DIGGINGS ALONG WITH THE REST OF THE GENTLEMEN?" _Flunkey._ "NOT IF I KNOWS IT, MARY, MY DEAR. I AIN'T BEEN ACCUSTOMED TO FIZZICAL EXERTION; AND I DON'T INTEND TO BEGIN HARD WORK AT MY TIME OF LIFE."] [Illustration: _USED UP._ _Grandmamma._ "WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH MY PET?" _Child._ "WHY, GRANDMA, AFTER GIVING THE SUBJECT EVERY CONSIDERATION, I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT--THE WORLD IS HOLLOW, AND MY DOLL IS STUFFED WITH SAWDUST. SO--I--SHOULD--LIKE--IF YOU PLEASE, TO BE A NUN!"] [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. No. II. _MR. BRIGGS STARTS ON HIS FISHING EXCURSION._] [Illustration: No. III. MR. B WON'T HAVE A MAN WITH HIM, AS HE THINKS HE CAN MANAGE A PUNT BY HIMSELF; AND THE CONSEQUENCE IS, HE IS OBLIGED TO GO TO BED WHILE HIS THINGS ARE DRIED, HAVING UPSET HIMSELF, AS A MATTER OF COURSE.] [Illustration: _ENERGETIC._ "HI!--THERE!--STOP!"] [Illustration: _HUNTING MEMORANDUM--APPEARANCE OF THINGS IN GENERAL TO A GENTLEMAN WHO HAS JUST TURNED A COMPLETE SOMERSAULT!!_ * &C. &C. REPRESENT SPARKS OF DIVERS BEAUTIFUL COLOURS] [Illustration: _MANNERS MAKE THE MAN._ _Omnibus Driver._ "I BEG YOU A THOUSAND PARDONS, I AM SURE." _Cabman._ "OH, PRAY DON'T MENTION IT. ITS OF NO CONSEQUENCE, BELIEVE ME!"] [Illustration: _MUCH TOO CLEVER._ _Sharp (but vulgar Little Boy)._ "HALLO, MISSUS, WOT ARE THOSE?" _Old Woman._ "TWOPENCE." _Boy._ "WHAT A LIE! THEY'RE APPLES." [_Exit, whistling popular air._] [Illustration: MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. No. IV. MR. BRIGGS TRIES (FOR MANY HOURS) A LIKELY PLACE FOR A PERCH; BUT UPON THIS OCCASION THE WIND IS NOT IN A FAVOURABLE QUARTER.] [Illustration: No. V. MINNOW CAUGHT BY MR. BRIGGS; EXACT SIZE OF LIFE.] [Illustration: _RETURNING FROM THE SEA-SIDE.--A LITTLE COMMISSION._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR,--MRS. GENERAL SLOWCOACH'S COMPLIMENTS, AND SHE SAYS IF YOU'RE GOING BY THE TRAIN THIS MORNING, SHE WOULD FEEL PERTICKLER OBLIGED BY YOUR TAKING CHARGE OF THIS LITTLE CASK OF SEA-WATER AS FAR AS HER 'OUSE."] [Illustration: _ANGLING IN THE SERPENTINE.--SATURDAY, P.M._ _Piscator No. 1._ "HAD EVER A BITE, JIM?" _Piscator No. 2._ "NOT YET--I ONLY COME HERE LAST WEDNESDAY!"] [Illustration: _SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.--(FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.)_ "THE COUNTRY IS AWFULLY DEEP, BUT THE FALLING IS DELIGHTFULLY SOFT AND SAFE."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. VI. _MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY'S FISHING._ HE IS SO FORTUNATE AS TO CATCH A LARGE EEL.] [Illustration: _AN UNDESIGNED INCIDENT._ "HOW COOL AND NICE THE FRENCH-POLISHED FLOORS ARE,--BUT--UGH!--OH DEAR!--HOW HARD!"] [Illustration: _NO PLACE LIKE HOME._ PATERFAMILIAS PREFERS HIS OWN BEDROOM (WHICH THE WHITEWASHERS HAVE JUST LEFT) TO THE DISCOMFORT OF AN HOTEL.] [Illustration: _THE GENTLE CRAFT._ _Contemplative Man (in punt)._ "I DON'T SO MUCH CARE ABOUT THE SPORT. IT'S THE DELICIOUS REPOSE I ENJOY SO."] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. VII. _TRIUMPHANT SUCCESS OF MR. BRIGGS._ SOMEHOW OR OTHER (ASSISTED BY HIS LITTLE BOY WALTER), HE CATCHES A JACK, WHICH, TO USE MR. B.'S OWN WORDS, FLIES AT HIM, AND BARKS LIKE A DOG.] [Illustration: _SPLENDID DAY WITH THE "QUEEN'S."_ _First Sporting Snob._ "WELL, BILL, WHAT SORT OF A DAY HAVE YER HAD?" _Second Ditto._ "OH, MAGNIFICENT, MY BOY! I SEE THE 'OUNDS SEVERAL TIMES; AND NONE OF YER NASTY 'EDGES AN' DITCHES, EITHER; BUT A PRIME TURNPIKE ROAD ALL THE WAY."] [Illustration: _DREADFUL CRISIS._ _Victim._ "HOPE YOU WILL NOT BE OFFENDED, SIR; BUT I SHOULD BE VERY GLAD IF YOU COULD SETTLE MY LITTLE BILL UP TO CHRISTMAS." _Mr. Dunup._ "OFFENDED, MY DEAR BOY! NOT IN THE LEAST. BUT THE FACT IS, I HAVE 'SUSPENDED CASH PAYMENTS' FOR SOME TIME."] [Illustration: _FOX STEALS AWAY FROM THE COVER; BEARDED FOREIGNER OF DISTINCTION IMMEDIATELY GIVES CHASE._ _Whipper-in (with excitement, loquitur)._ "'OLD 'ARD, THERE! 'OLD 'ARD! WHERE ARE YOU A-GALLOPING TO? DO YOU THINK _YOU_ CAN CATCH A FOX?" _Foreigner of Distinction (with great glee)._ "I DO NOT KNOW, MON AMI; BUT I WILL TRAI--I WILL TRAI!"] [Illustration: _THE PIC-NIC._ _Contented Man (loq.)._ "WHAT A NICE DAMP PLACE WE HAVE SECURED; AND HOW VERY FORTUNATE WE ARE IN THE WEATHER; IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO PROVOKING FOR US ALL TO HAVE BROUGHT OUR UMBRELLAS AND THEN TO HAVE HAD A FINE DAY!! GLASS OF WINE, BRIGGS, EH?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. VIII. MR. BRIGGS, ANXIOUS TO BECOME A "COMPLETE ANGLER," STUDIES THE "GENTLE ART" OF FLY-FISHING.] [Illustration: No. IX. MR. B. GOES OUT. HIS CHIEF DIFFICULTY IS, THAT EVERY TIME HE THROWS HIS LINE--THE HOOKS (OF WHICH THERE ARE FIVE) WILL STICK BEHIND IN HIS JACKET AND TR-WS-RS.] [Illustration: _MEN OF EXPERIENCE._ _Tom._ "AH, BILL! I'M QUITE TIRED OF THE DISSIPATION OF THE GAY AND FASHIONABLE WORLD. I THINK I SHALL MARRY AND SETTLE." _Bill._ "WELL, I'M DEVILISH SICK OF A BACHELOR'S LIFE MYSELF, BUT I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF THROWING MYSELF AWAY IN A HURRY."] [Illustration: _QUITE UNNECESSARY._ _Juvenile._ "OH, CHARLEY. IF YOU HEAR A REPORT THAT I'M GOING TO BE MARRIED TO THAT GIRL IN BLACK, YOU CAN CONTRADICT IT. THERE'S NOTHING IN IT."] [Illustration: _NOT VERY LIKELY._ _Mistress._ "WELL, I'M SURE! AND PRAY WHO IS THAT?" _Cook._ "OH, IF YOU PLEASE'M, IT'S ONLY MY COUSIN WHO HAS CALLED JUST TO SHOW ME HOW TO BOIL A POTATO."] [Illustration: _EVERY LITTLE HELPS._ I SAY, TOMMY, COME AND SHOVE. HERE'S THE POOR 'ORSE CAN'T GET THE WAGGIN UP!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. I. MR. BRIGGS THINKS OF RUNNING DOWN THE DAY AFTER TO-MORROW TO HIS FRIEND HAYCOCK FOR A DAY'S SHOOTING, AND HAS BORROWED A DOG TO GO WITH HIM. FOR THE NINTH TIME DURING THE NIGHT HE HAS BEEN DISTURBED BY THE HOWLING OF THE ANIMAL.] [Illustration: No. II. MR. BRIGGS NO SOONER RETURNS TO HIS BED, THAN MRS. BRIGGS SAYS, "MY DEAR! THERE'S THAT NASTY, TIRESOME DOG AGAIN!!"] [Illustration: _THE RISING GENERATION._ _Eton Boy (loq.)._ "COME, GOVERNOR! JUST ONE TOAST, 'THE LADIES!'"] [Illustration: _WHEN IT IS DELIGHTFUL TO LOSE A BET._ _Grace._ "_TEDDINGTON_ FIRST?--THEN THAT WILL MAKE FOUR DOZEN AND A HALF. REMEMBER, SIXES! TWO DOZEN WHITE, AND THE REST PALE DRAB AND LAVENDER."] [Illustration: _REWARD OF MERIT._ _Ragged Urchin._ "PLEASE, GIVE DAD A SHORT PIPE." _Barman._ "CAN'T DO IT. DON'T KNOW HIM." _Ragged Urchin._ "WHY, HE GETS DRUNK HERE EVERY SATURDAY NIGHT." _Barman._ "OH! DOES HE, MY LITTLE DEAR? THEN 'ERES A NICE LONG 'UN, WITH A BIT OF WAX AT THE END."] [Illustration: _CRUEL._ "REMEMBER THE STEWARD, SIR, IF YOU PLEASE."] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES Of SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. III. 9 A.M., HIS ARRIVAL ON THE MOOR. MR. BRIGGS SAYS THAT THE FINE BRACING AIR MAKES HIM SO VIGOROUS THAT HE SHALL NEVER BE BEAT. HE ALSO FACETIOUSLY REMARKS THAT HE IS ON "HIS NATIVE HEATH," AND THAT HIS "NAME IS MACGREGOR!"] [Illustration: _THE STARVED-OUT ALDERMAN._ DREADFUL CASE OF DESTITUTION.] [Illustration: No. IV. 11 A.M. MR. BRIGGS BEGINS TO SHOW SYMPTOMS OF DISTRESS. HE FINDS HIS "NATIVE HEATH" A VERY DIFFERENT THING TO HIS "NATIVE FLAGSTONES."] [Illustration: _AN OCEAN SWELL._ THE DELIGHTFUL PROCESS OF DRESSING IN A BATHING-MACHINE.] [Illustration: _AN EXCLUSIVE._ _Enter Small Swell (who drawls as follows)._ "A--BROWN, A--WANT SOME MORE COATS!" _Snip._ "YES, SIR. THANK YOU, SIR. HOW MANY WOULD YOU PLEASE TO WANT?" _Small Swell._ "A--LET ME SEE; A'LL HAVE EIGHT. A--NO, A'LL HAVE NINE; LOOK HERE! A--SHALL WANT SOME TROWSERS." _Snip._ "YES, SIR. THANK YOU, SIR. HOW MANY WOULD YOU LIKE?" _Small Swell._ "A--I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY. S'POSE WE SAY TWENTY-FOUR PAIRS; AND LOOK HERE! SHOW ME SOME PATTERNS THAT WON'T BE WORN BY ANY SNOBS!"] [Illustration: _ELEGANT HABIT._ _Mamma._ "MY DEAR FREDERICK, DO PRAY TAKE YOUR HANDS OUT OF YOUR POCKETS!" _Frederick._ "COULDN'T DO IT, MAMMA, DEAR; ALL OUR MEN AT CAMBRIDGE WEAR THEIR HANDS IN THEIR POCKETS, AND I COULDN'T DISGRACE MY COLLEGE BY TAKING MINE OUT!!"] [Illustration: _PITY IS AKIN TO LOVE._ _Boy (loq.)._ "O DON'T I PITY THEM POOR NOBS IN _CARRIDGES_ THIS HOT WEATHER!"] [Illustration: _AN OMNIBUS INCIDENT._ _Man (thrusting his hand into the window)._ "WILL YOU BUY A PENKNIFE WITH A HUNDRED BLADES, SIR?"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. V. 12 A.M. TOTAL PROSTRATION OF MR. BRIGGS.] [Illustration: _ANALOGY._ _Sporting Man (loquitur)._ "I SAY, CHARLES--THAT'S A PROMISING LITTLE FILLY ALONG O' THAT BAY-HAIRED WOMAN WHO'S TALKING TO THE BLACK-COB-LOOKING MAN!"] [Illustration: _JOHN THOMAS MISPLACED._ _Lady._ "YOU WISH TO LEAVE--REALLY IT'S VERY INCONVENIENT. PRAY--HAVE YOU ANY REASON TO BE DISSATISFIED WITH YOUR PLACE?" _Flunkey._ "OH, DEAR NO, MA'AM--NOT DISSATISFIED EXACTLY: BUT--A--THE FACT IS, MA'AM, YOU DON'T KEEP NO VEHICLE, AND I FIND I MISS MY CARRIAGE EXERCISE."] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE PRUDENCE._ _Maria (loq.)._ "MY DEAR CHARLES, BEFORE WE THINK OF MARRYING, I MUST ASK YOU WHAT YOU HAVE?" _Charles._ "MY DEAR MARIA, I WILL TELL YOU FRANKLY THAT ALL I HAVE IN THE WORLD IS A DRUM AND A CRICKET BAT; BUT PAPA HAS PROMISED ME A BOW AND ARROWS, AND A PONY, IF I'M A GOOD BOY." _Maria._ "OH! MY DEAR CHARLES, WE COULD NEVER LIVE AND KEEP HOUSE UPON THAT!"] [Illustration: _HOUSEMAIDS REFUSING SERVICE IN BELGRAVIA._ _Lady Emily._ "NOW DEAR, I WISH YOU WOULD BE QUICK, AND LIGHT THE FIRES, AND HELP ME TO MAKE THE BEDS." [_The Barracks being removed from Knightsbridge. Young Ladies do the Housework._] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. VI. MR. BRIGGS IS OFF AGAIN SHOOTING.] [Illustration: _GRANDMAMMA IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE GIVEN MASTER TOM SOME PLUMS._ _Master Tom_. "NOW, THEN, GRANNY, I'VE EATEN THE PLUMS, AND IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME SIXPENCE, I'LL SWALLOW THE STONES!"] [Illustration: _MAKING THE BEST OF IT._] [Illustration: _HORRIBLE INCIDENT IN REAL LIFE._ AS THE SERVANTS ARE GONE TO BED, THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE ENDEAVOURS TO GET A LITTLE BIT OF SUPPER FOR HIMSELF. HE CAN'T CONCEIVE WHERE THE DEUCE THE THINGS ARE ALL KEPT; AND HE IS ALMOST TORN TO PIECES BY THE BLACK NATIVES OF THE KITCHEN.] [Illustration: _RATHER SEVERE._ "SHALL I 'OLD YOUR 'ORSE, SIR?"] [Illustration: _A FAULTY MIRROR._ "LOR! WHAT A MOST ABOMINABLE GLASS.--I DECLARE IT MAKES ONE LOOK A PERFECT FRIGHT!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. VII. FORTUNATELY FOR MR. BRIGGS (WHO _WILL_ LOAD HIS OWN GUN BECAUSE _THEN_ HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS ABOUT) THE KEEPER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS PUT ABOUT THREE-QUARTERS OF A POUND OF SHOT INTO HIS RIGHT-HAND BARREL.] [Illustration: _GRAND SHOW OF PRIZE VEGETARIANS._] [Illustration: _CONSOLATION._ "NOT KITCHED NONE! AH! SIR, YOU SHOULD HA' BIN HERE LAST TOOSDAY; THERE WAS TOO GENTS KILLED A UNCOMMON SIGHT A' FISH TO BE SURE, THEN."] [Illustration: _BOTTOM FISHING._ _Piscator No. 1. (miserably)._ "NOW, TOM, _DO_ LEAVE OFF. IT ISN'T OF ANY USE; AND IT'S GETTING QUITE DARK." _Piscator No. 2._ "LEAVE OFF!! WHAT A PRECIOUS DISAGREEABLE CHAP YOU ARE. YOU COME OUT FOR A DAY'S PLEASURE AND YOU'RE ALWAYS A-WANTING TO GO HOME!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. VIII. FEW THINGS ARE MORE ANNOYING THAN TO BE SHORT OF POWDER WHEN THERE IS A CHANCE OF GOOD SPORT. MR. BRIGGS FEELING THIS, ORDERS A GOOD SUPPLY, TO BANG AWAY AT THE PHEASANTS TO-MORROW. HE SUGGESTS TO MRS. BRIGGS, THAT IT SHOULD BE KEPT UNDER THEIR BED, TO BE OUT OF THE WAY OF THE CHILDREN!!] [Illustration: _A CAUTION TO LITTLE BOYS AT A FESTIVE SEASON._ _Mamma._ "WHY, MY DEAREST ALBERT, WHAT ARE YOU CRYING FOR?--SO GOOD, TOO, AS YOU HAVE BEEN ALL DAY!" _Spoiled Little Boy._ "BOO-HOO! I'VE EATEN SO--MUCH BE-EF AND T-TURKEY, THAT I CANT EAT ANY P-PLUM P-P-PUDDING!" _Oh, what a very greedy little fellow!_] [Illustration: _A PRIVATE OPINION._ "WELL, I THINK THIS IS THE NEATEST THING I HAVE SEEN FOR A LONG TIME."] [Illustration: _PLEASANT._ _Old Acquaintance._ "AVE A DRAIN, BILL?" _Bus Driver._ "WHY, YER SEE, JIM, THIS 'ERE YOUNG HOSS HAS ON'Y BIN IN 'ARNES ONCE AFORE, AND HE'S SUCH A BEGGAR TO BOLT, TEN TO ONE IF I LEAVE 'IM HE'LL BE A-RUNNIN' HOFF AND A-SMASHIN' INTO SUTHUN. HOWSEVER--HERE (_handing reins to timid passenger_), LAY HOLD, SIR, _I'LL CHANCE IT!_"] [Illustration: _A REAL DIFFICULTY._ _Coachman._ "WHY--WHAT'S THE MATTER, JOHN THOMAS?" _Footman._ "MATTER ENUFF! HERE'S THE MARCHIONESS BIN AN GIV ME NOTICE BECAUSE I DON'T MATCH JOSEPH,--AND I MUST GO, UNLESS I CAN GET MY FAT DOWN IN A WEEK!"] [Illustration: _BIT FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _First._ "WUT TAK THY QUOAT OFF, THEN! OI TELL THEE OI'M AS GOOD A MON AS THEE!" _Second._ "THEE A MON! WHOY THEE BE'EST ONLY WALKING ABOUT TO SAVE THY FUNERAL EXPENSES!"] [Illustration: _ANOTHER BIT FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _First Polite Native._ "WHO'S 'IM, BILL?" _Second Ditto._ "A STRANGER!" _First Ditto._ "'EAVE 'ARF A BRICK AT 'IM."] [Illustration: _UP TO WEIGHT._ _Stout Party._ "AHEM! I WANT TO HAVE A LOOK AT THE HOUNDS TO-MORROW! DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE GOT ANYTHING THAT WOULD CARRY ME?" _Stable Keeper._ "WELL, SIR! I THINK I HAVE TWO BROWN 'OSSES--AND A OMNIBUS, AS PERHAPS MIGHT DO IT!"] [Illustration: _WHY, INDEED?_ _Perceptive Child._ "MAMMA, DEAR! WHY DO THOSE GENTLEMEN DRESS THEMSELVES LIKE THE FUNNY LITTLE MEN IN MY NOAH'S ARK?"] [Illustration: _VERY CONSIDERATE._ _Affable Little Gentleman._ "DEAR, OH DEAR! HOW IT RAINS! I'M AFRAID YOU'LL GET VERY WET--CAN I OFFER YOU A GREAT COAT OR ANYTHING?"] [Illustration: _CHANGING THE SUBJECT._ _Old Gentleman._ "WELL, WALTER, I SUPPOSE YOU HAVE GOT INTO LATIN AND GREEK AT SCHOOL BY THIS TIME, EH?" _Juvenile._ "OH, YES, SIR. I HAVE JUST FINISHED XENOPHON AND THUCYDIDES, AND AM NOW IN EURIPIDES. BY THE WAY, SIR, HOW WOULD YOU RENDER THE PASSAGE BEGINNING [Greek: kakôs pepraktai pantachê]?" _Old Gentleman._ "AHEM! HEY?--WHAT?--AHEM! HERE, RUGGLES, BRING ANOTHER BOTTLE OF CLARET, AND--EH? WHAT? WALTER, I THINK YOU HAD BETTER JOIN THE LADIES."] [Illustration: _MEETING HIM HALF WAY._ _Young Hopeful._ "WELL, IT'S OF NO USE, GOVERNOR; I CAN'T STICK TO BUSINESS. I WANT TO BE A SOLDIER, AND YOU MUST BUY ME A COMMISSION." _Governor._ "NO, MY BOY, I CAN'T AFFORD TO BUY YOU A COMMISSION, BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I _WILL_ DO; IF YOU WILL GO DOWN TO CHATHAM AND ENLIST, I WILL GIVE YOU MY WORD OF HONOUR I WON'T BUY YOU OFF!"] [Illustration: _MEN OF THE WORLD._ _First Man of the World._ "HEARD OF MISS F----'s MARRIAGE, CHARLEY?" _Second Do._ "AH! I HEARD IT SPOKEN OF. I BELIEVE IT WAS A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION ON BOTH SIDES?" _First Do._ "YES! IT WAS A BAD JOB. THOSE MATCHES NEVER TURN OUT WELL!"] [Illustration: _PATERFAMILIAS MAKES HIMSELF INDEPENDENT OF HOTELS._] [Illustration: _THE BRITON ABROAD._ DID YOU EVER SEE TWO STRANGE ENGLISHMEN BREAKFASTING AT A TABLE D'HOTE ABROAD? WELL! ISN'T IT A CHEERFUL THING?] [Illustration: _THE GARRET AND THE CONSERVATORY._ _Genteel Pluralist._ "WHAT THE PEOPLE CAN WANT WITH A CRYSTAL PALACE ON SUNDAYS, I CAN'T THINK! SURELY THEY OUGHT TO BE CONTENTED WITH THEIR CHURCH AND THEIR HOME AFTERWARDS."] [Illustration: _A THOROUGH GOOD COOK_ _Lady._ "THEN, WHY DID YOU LEAVE YOUR LAST PLACE, PRAY?" _Cook._ "WELL, MA'AM, AFTER I'M DONE WORK, I AM VERY FOND OF SINGING AND PLAYING ON THE ACCORDIUM, AND MISSUS HADN'T USED TO LIKE IT--AND SO I GIVE NOTICE!"] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC SANITARY REGULATIONS._] [Illustration: _A MOST ALARMING SWELLING_!] [Illustration: _INFORMATION._ "JEMMY! WHAT'S A STALL AT THE HOPERA?" "WELL, I CAN'T SAY, NOT FOR CERTAIN; BUT I SUPPOSE IT'S WHERE THEY SELLS THE HAPPLES, HORANGES, GINGER BEER AND BISKITS."] [Illustration: _SELF-ESTEEM._ _Gentleman._ "SIXTY POUNDS A YEAR!! WHY, MAN, ARE YOU AWARE THAT SUCH A SUM IS MORE THAN IS FREQUENTLY GIVEN TO A CURATE?" _Flunkey._ "OH, YES, SIR; BUT THEN YOU WOULD HARDLY, I HOPE, GO FOR TO COMPARE ME WITH THE HINFERIOR ORDER OF CLERGY."] [Illustration: _GROSS INSULT._ _University "Man" having spent a few days in Town, at the end of Term is about to go Home._ _Waiter (condescendingly)._ "GOING HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, SIR?" _University_ MAN (_hurling himself into Hansom_). "EUSTON SQUA-A-A-RE!"] [Illustration: _CANDID._ _Old Gent._ "THOMAS, I HAVE ALWAYS PLACED THE GREATEST CONFIDENCE IN YOU. NOW TELL ME, THOMAS, HOW IS IT THAT MY BUTCHER'S BILLS ARE SO LARGE, AND THAT I ALWAYS HAVE SUCH BAD DINNERS?" _Thomas._ "REALLY, SIR, I DON'T KNOW, FOR I'M SURE WE NEVER HAVE ANYTHING NICE IN THE KITCHEN THAT WE DON'T ALWAYS SEND _SOME_ OF IT UP INTO THE PARLOUR!"] [Illustration: _DE GUS-TIBUS._ _Uncle._ "SO, YOU'VE BEEN TO THE CRYSTAL PALACE--HAVE YOU, GUS?" _Gus._ "YES, UNCLE." _Uncle._ "WELL. NOW, I'LL GIVE YOU SIXPENCE IF YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT YOU ADMIRED MOST IN THAT TEMPLE OF INDUSTRY?" _Gus. (unhesitatingly)._ "VEAL AND 'AM PIES, AND THE GINGER BEER. GIVE US THE SIXPENCE."] [Illustration: _AN ENTHUSIASTIC FISHERMAN._ "WHAT A BORE! JUST LIKE MY LUCK. NO SOONER HAVE I GOT MY TACKLE READY, AND SETTLED DOWN TO A BOOK, THAN THERE COMES A CONFOUNDED BITE!"] [Illustration: _MELANCHOLY REVERSE OF FORTUNE._ "POOR SWEEPER, LADIES! RAILWAY DIRECTOR ONCE, LADIES!"] [Illustration: _A COUNTRY BALL._ _First Amiable Lady (very loud)._ "WHAT A REMARKABLY ODD SET OF PEOPLE ONE MEETS AT A PUBLIC BALL!" _Second Do._ "OH, VERY DROLL!" _Poor Little Swell._ "YETH; AND SO THWANGELY DRETHED!"] [Illustration: _A FACT._ _Flunkey (out of place)._ "THERE'S JUST ONE QUESTION I SHOULD LIKE TO ASK YOUR LADYSHIP--HAM I ENGAGED FOR WORK, OR HAM I ENGAGED FOR ORNAMENT?"] [Illustration: _RATHER AWKWARD FOR TOMKINS._ _Young Diana._ "I THINK, SIR, IF YOU WOULD BE SO GOOD AS TO GO FIRST, AND BREAK THE TOP RAIL, MY PONY WOULD GET OVER."] [Illustration: _AGRICULTURAL DISTRESS._ _Whip._ "HOLD HARD, GENTLEMEN! WARE WHEAT! WARE WHEAT!!" _Young Farmer._ "COME ON, GENTLEMEN. NEVER MIND THE WHEAT--IT'S ONLY THIRTY SHILLINGS A QUARTER!!"] [Illustration: _PROFESSOR BUCKWHEAT IMPRESSING THE AGRICULTURAL MIND._] [Illustration: _GOING "OUT" TO AN "AT HOME."_ _Lovely Woman (to brute of a Husband)._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, WILLIAM--FAST ASLEEP! AND NOT DRESSED, I DECLARE! WHY IT'S NEARLY TWELVE O'CLOCK, AND THE BROUGHAM HAS BEEN WAITING THIS HALF-HOUR. GO AND GET READY THIS MOMENT, SIR!"] [Illustration: _TERRIBLE DOMESTIC INCIDENT._ "LAWK, JOHN! IF YOU HAVEN'T BIN AND LET MASTER'S LIBERY FIRE OUT AGAIN."] [Illustration: _FILLING UP THE CENSUS PAPER._ _Wife of his Bosom._ "UPON MY WORD, MR PEEWITT! IS THIS THE WAY YOU FILL UP YOUR CENSUS? SO YOU CALL YOURSELF THE 'HEAD OF THE FAMILY'--DO YOU--AND ME A FEMALE!"] [Illustration: _A SPORTING CHARACTER._ "ARE YOU GOING TO HASCOT, BILL?" "WHY, YES; I'M GOING TO CHAPERONG THIS YOUNG FEMALE DOWN BY THE RAIL."] [Illustration: _OUR FOREIGN VISITORS._ _Conductor._ "HOLD HARD, BILL! HERE'S A COUPLE MORE LEICESTER SQUARES A-COMIN'."] [Illustration: _TRUE RESPECTABILITY._ _First Costermonger._ "I WONDER A RESPECTABLE COVE LIKE YOU, BILL, CARRIES YOUR OWN COLLYFLOWERS; WHY DON'T YER KEEP A CARRIDGE LIKE MINE?" _Second Costermonger._ "WHY DON'T I KEEP A CARRIDGE? WHY, BECAUSE I DON'T CHOOSE TO WASTE MY HINCUM IN MERE SHOW AND FASHIONABLE DISPLAY!"] [Illustration: _THE OPERA._ _Box-Keeper._ "STALLS 216 AND 17. THIS WAY, MA'AM; LAST ROW, MA'AM. WON'T YOU LIKE A BOOK, MA'AM?"] [Illustration: _SEASONABLE QUESTION._ "DID YOU WANT YER DOOR SWEPT, MARM?"] [Illustration: _A BRITISH RUFFIAN._ _Lady._ "IF YOU ARE NOT SATISFIED WITH WHAT I HAVE GIVEN YOU, THERE'S A GENTLEMAN HERE WHO WILL SETTLE WITH YOU." _Cabman._ "NO, THERE _AIN'T_! THERE AIN'T _NO GENTLEMAN_ HERE!" _Lady._ "I TELL YOU THERE IS. THERE IS A GENTLEMAN IN THIS HOUSE." _Cabman._ "OH, NO, THERE AIN'T, _NOT IF HE BELONGS TO YOU!_"] [Illustration: _TURFITES._ "I SAY, OLD FELLOW, HOW DO YOU GO TO THE DERBY THIS YEAR?" "OH, THE OLD WAY--HAMPER AND FOUR."] [Illustration: _UNSEASONABLE SPORT._ _Wife (much startled)._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, REGINALD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT GUN?" _Reginald (who is very fond of shooting)._ "HUSH! HUSH! MY DEAR--I'VE KILLED TWO!" _Wife._ "MY GOODNESS! TWO WHAT?--THIEVES?" _Reginald._ "NO, DEAR. TWO OF THOSE CONFOUNDED RABBITS THAT ARE ALWAYS EATING THE VERBENA! THERE, GO TO SLEEP, DARLING--I'LL HAVE ANOTHER DIRECTLY."] [Illustration: _A YOUNG GENTLEMAN AND SCHOLAR._ _Fond Mother._ "WHY, HE DOESN'T WRITE VERY WELL YET, BUT HE GETS ON NICELY WITH HIS SPELLING. COME, ALEXANDER, WHAT DOES D. O. G. SPELL?" _Infant Prodigy (with extraordinary quickness)._ "CAT!"] [Illustration: "_THAT IS THE QUESTION._" IS WESKETS TO BE GENERALLY WORE THIS SUMMER?] [Illustration: _ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT._ _Dealer._ "THERE! HE AIN'T A 'ORSE MADE UP FOR SALE, HE'LL GO ON IMPROVIN' EVERY DAY YOU KEEP HIM--HE WILL."] [Illustration: _EASY SHAVING._] [Illustration: _ARITHMETIC IN THE UNIVERSITY._ "I SAY, FRANK, MY BOY--IF TROUNCER'S AT 5 TO 2, AND NUTSHELL AT 3 TO 1, WHAT'S THE BETTING AGAINST THE PAIR OF THEM!" "I'M SURE I DON'T KNOW--TAKE YOU 6 TO 1."] [Illustration: _STARTLING EFFECT OF THE "GOLD DIGGINS."_ Reduced Goldsmith (_loq._). "NOW THEN, HERE YOU ARE!--A HANDSOME GOLD SNUFFBOX AND A HA'PORTH OF SNUFF FOR A PENNY!"] [Illustration: _A TEST OF STRENGTH._ _First Languid Party._ "DON'T YOU FIND SEA-AIR VERY STRENGTHENING, JACK?" _Second Ditto, Ditto._ "AH, VEWY! I COULD THROW STONES IN THE WATER ALL DAY!"] [Illustration: _ELEGANT AND RATIONAL DINNER COSTUME FOR CLOSE WEATHER._] [Illustration: _HOW DO =YOU= LIKE IT?_] [Illustration: _A HEAVY BLOW._ _Alderman Gobble._ "WHAW-T; PULL DOWN TEMPLE BAR? OH DEAR! RING FOR THE SHERRY. THEY'LL BE FOR DESTROYING GOG AND MAGOG NEXT.]" [Illustration: _OYSTERS IN JUNE--DELICIOUS!_ "NOW, MY LITTLE MAN--HERE'S YOUR FINE NATIVES! ONLY A PENNY A LOT."] [Illustration: _A PRODIGIOUS NUISANCE._ _Learned (but otherwise highly objectionable) Child (loq.)._ "OH, MAMMA, DEAR! WHAT DO YOU THINK? I ASKED MR. ---- AND MISS ---- TO NAME SOME OF THE REMARKABLE EVENTS FROM THE YEAR 700 TO THE YEAR 600 B.C., AND THEY COULDN'T. BUT _I_ CAN--AND--THE SECOND MESSINIAN WAR COMMENCED; AND--THE POET TYRTÆUS FLOURISHED; BYZANTIUM WAS FOUNDED BY THE INHABITANTS OF MEGARA; DRACO GAVE LAWS TO ATHENS; TERPANDER OF LESBOS, THE MUSICIAN AND POET; THALES OF MILETUS, THE PHILOSOPHER; ALCÆUS AND SAPPHO, THE POETS, FLOURISHED; AND NEBUCHADNEZ----" [_Sensation from right and left, during which the voice of Child is happily drowned._ ] [Illustration: LITTLE BOY HAS A PENN'ORTH-- _ALARMING RESULT!_] [Illustration: _HOW TO MAKE CULPRITS COMFORTABLE; OR, HINTS FOR PRISON DISCIPLINE._] [Illustration: _SAILORS ON SHORE CAROUSING--AS IT WILL BE WHEN THE GROG IS STOPPED._] [Illustration: _SUBURBAN FELICITY. GRATIFYING DOMESTIC (POULTRY) INCIDENT._ _Buttons._ "OH! PLEASE'M! BE QUICK'M! HERE'S THE COACHING CHINA A CLUCKING LIKE ANYTHINK. HE'VE BEEN AND LAID A HEGG!!!"] [Illustration: _DURING THE FROST A CERTAIN FOX-HUNTER INCREASES IN WEIGHT, AND GETS TOO BIG FOR HIS CLOTHES._] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. IX. _TABLEAU--REPRESENTING MR. BRIGGS OUT FOR A DAY'S RABBIT-SHOOTING._] [Illustration: _COLD COMFORT._ _Country Friend to Sporting Gent from Town._ "WELL, JACK, I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE A CAPITAL DAY. YOU SEE THE FROST IS QUITE GONE."] [Illustration: _THE BEARD AND MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ _Railway Guard._ "NOW, MA'AM, IS THIS YOUR LUGGAGE?" _Old Lady (who concludes she is attacked by Brigands)._ "OH, YES! GENTLEMEN, IT'S MINE. TAKE IT--TAKE ALL I HAVE--BUT SPARE, OH SPARE OUR LIVES!!"] [Illustration: _TRUE POLITENESS._ _Alderman Gobble._ "NOW, THEN, GALS! I'VE QUITE DONE. CAN I GET YOU ANY GRUB?"] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES OF SHOOTING. [Illustration: No. X _A FRIEND HAS GIVEN MR. BRIGGS A DAY'S SHOOTING._ A COCK PHEASANT GETS UP, AND MR. BRIGGS'S IMPRESSION IS, THAT A VERY LARGE FIREWORK HAS BEEN LET OFF CLOSE TO TO HIM. HE IS ALMOST FRIGHTENED TO DEATH.] [Illustration: _FISHING--WITH FLIES._] [Illustration: _THE OLD GENTLEMAN IS IN A HURRY TO GET TO THE STATION--CAB-HORSE JIBS MOST RESOLUTELY._ _Old Gent._ "NOW, THEN, DRIVER. WHATS THE MATTER?" _Cabman._ "OH, IT'S NOTHIN', SIR. HE'S ONLY A LEETLE TOO FRESH, SIR!"] [Illustration: _HOW No. 4 ENJOYED HIMSELF,_ AND _HOW _No._ 8 SUFFERED IN CONSEQUENCE._] [Illustration: _SPEAK AS YOU THINK._ "ARE YOU GOING?" "WHY, YE-ES. THE FACT IS, THAT YOUR PARTY IS SO SLOW, AND I AM WEALLY SO INFERNALLY BORED, THAT I SHALL GO SOMEWHERE AND SMOKE A QUIET CIGAR." "WELL, GOOD NIGHT. AS YOU ARE BY NO MEANS HANDSOME, A GREAT PUPPY, AND NOT IN THE LEAST AMUSING, I THINK IT'S THE BEST THING YOU CAN DO."] [Illustration: _A HORRIBLE BUSINESS._ _Master Butcher._ "DID YOU TAKE OLD MAJOR DUMBLEDORE'S RIBS TO NO. 12?" _Boy._ "YES, SIR." _Master Butcher._ "THEN CUT MISS WIGGLES'S SHOULDER AND NECK, AND HANG MR. FOODLE'S LEGS TILL THEY'RE QUITE TENDER!"] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES OF RACING. [Illustration: No. I. _MR. BRIGGS HAS BACKED HIMSELF TO RIDE A STEEPLE CHASE AGAINST HIS FRIEND MUFFINS, OF THE ST--K EXCH--NGE. HE IS GOING ROUND THE COURSE JUST TO LOOK AT THE JUMPS._ _Spectator (to MR. B.)_. "OH NO, SIR!--THIS AIN'T THE BIG ONE. THE BIG ONE IS AFTER YOU GET OUT OF THE LANE, AND AFORE YOU COME TO THE BROOK!"] [Illustration: _OUR ENGLISH CLIMATE._ MAY-DAY FOR THE SWEEPS.] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES OF RACING. [Illustration: No. II. MR. BRIGGS IS WEIGHED, OF COURSE.] [Illustration: No. III. HIS FRIENDS RECOMMEND HIM A LITTLE JUMPING POWDER.] [Illustration: No. IV. HERE HE TAKES A PRELIMINARY CANTER, AND PUTS HIS HORSE AT A FLIGHT OF HURDLES.] [Illustration: No. V. AND GETS OVER VERY CLEVERLY.] [Illustration: No. VI. SOME TIME AFTER THE START, MR. BRIGGS GOES ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE FLAG, AND IS OBLIGED TO GO BACK, WHICH, AS THE GROUND IS RATHER HEAVY, "TAKES IT OUT OF OLD BLUNDERBUSS CONSIDERABLY."] [Illustration: No. VII. WHO, IN CONSEQUENCE, MAKES A MISTAKE AT THE NEXT FENCE.] MR. BRIGG'S PLEASURES OF RACING [Illustration: No. VIII. HOWEVER, MR. BRIGGS IS NOT HURT; AND, AFTER SOME EXERTION, RE-MOUNTS.] [Illustration: No. IX. MR. BRIGGS, AS HE APPEARED COMING TO THE BROOK. IN THE DISTANCE MAY BE OBSERVED HIS OPPONENT, WHO HAS A NASTY FALL, BUT FORTUNATELY TUMBLES ON HIS HEAD.] [Illustration: No. X. MR. BRIGGS AS HE APPEARED IN THE BROOK.] [Illustration: No XI. AS HE APPEARED WHEN HE CAME OUT OF THE BROOK.] [Illustration: No. XII. PORTRAIT OF MR. BRIGGS WINNING THE RACE. N.B. THE DENSE CROWD IS CHEERING HIM.] [Illustration: _DISTRESSING RESULT OF EMIGRATION._ _Lady._ "YES, MY DEAR. JOHN LEFT US WITHOUT ANY WARNING, AND WE CAN'T MATCH THE OTHER FOOTMAN, BECAUSE ALL THE TALL MEN ARE GONE TO AUSTRALIA."] [Illustration: _THE ROAD-SIDE ON THE DERBY DAY._ A "DRAG" FULL OF GUARDSMEN IS SUPPOSED TO BE PASSING.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC BLISS._ _Young Mother (joyously)._ "THE DEAR LITTLE CREATURE IS GETTING ON SO NICELY; ITS BEGINNING QUITE TO TAKE NOTICE."--_First Mother of a Family (blandly)._ "OH! MY DEAR! THAT IS NOT TAKING NOTICE; ITS ONLY THE WIND."--_Second Ditto._ "YOU SHOULD GIVE IT A LITTLE DILL-WATER, DEAR, YOU WOULD FIND," &c. &c.--_Third Ditto._ "WELL, IF IT WAS MY CHILD, I SHOULD," &c. &c.--_Fourth Ditto._ "NOW, WHEN I WAS NURSING MY LITTLE GREGORY, I USED," &c. &c.--_Fifth Ditto._ "WELL, NOW, I WOULD NOT FOR THE WORLD THAT A BABY OF MINE," &c. &c.--_Sixth Ditto._ "INDEED, I HAVE KNOWN CHILDREN OBLIGED TO ENDURE THE MOST HORRIBLE AGONY," &c. &c.--_Seventh Ditto._ "DEPEND UPON IT, LOVE; AND YOU KNOW I HAVE HAD A LARGE FAMILY--AND IF YOU WILL BE ADVISED BY ME," &c. &c. [_Young Mother becomes quite bewildered, and gives herself up to despair._] [Illustration: _SEA-SIDE LITERATURE FOR YOUNG LADIES; OR, DELIGHTS OF CROCHET._ _First Young Lady (reads)._ "10TH ROW--3 LONG WITH THREE CHAIN AFTER EACH INTO THIRD SMALL SPACE, 1 LONG INTO SAME SPACE, 5 LONG WITH THREE CHAIN AFTER EACH INTO MIDDLE SPACE, 1 LONG INTO SAME SPACE, 3 LONG WITH 3 CHAIN AFTER EACH INTO NEXT SPACE, 1 LONG IN SAME SPACE, 5 CHAIN, DITTO IN MIDDLE OF LARGE SPACE, 5 CHAIN; REPEAT." _Second and Third Young Ladies (in ecstacies)._ "OH, HOW SWEETLY PRETTY!!!"] [Illustration: _FRIGHTFUL UPSET OF DIGNITY._ _Conductor._ "NOW, MARM! WITE-CHAPEL, OR MILE-END?--ONLY A PENNY"] [Illustration: _INTERESTING._ "I HAVE CALLED, MR. SQUILLS, TO SAY THAT MY DARLING LITTLE DOG (!) HAS TAKEN ALL HIS MIXTURE, BUT HIS COUGH IS NO BETTER."] [Illustration: _SUMMER IN ELYSIUM._ AND _THE LONG VACATION IN ARCADIA._] [Illustration: _A SAVAGE REPROOF._ _Indignant Master of Hounds._ "NOW, YOU SIR! MIND THE HOUND! HE'S WORTH FORTY TIMES AS MUCH AS YOUR HORSE!"] [Illustration: _WHAT A DREADFUL STORY!_ _Stout Party._ "STOP! HERE! CABMAN! WE WANT TO GO AS FAR TER-WARDS WHITECHAPEL AS WE CAN FOR SIXPENCE!" _Cabman._ "VERY SORRY, MUM! BUT THE OSS HAS BIN OUT ALL DAY--DEAD BEAT, MUM--GOING HOME, MUM."] [Illustration: _IS IT SO?_ _Old Lady (loq.)._ "BLESS MY HEART! HOW RIDICULOUSLY SMALL THEY DO MAKE THE EYES OF THE NEEDLES NOW-A-DAYS, TO BE SURE!"] [Illustration: _A SELL._ _Enter_ SPORTING YOUTH, _who has lost the hounds_. _Youth._ "SEEN THE HOUNDS GO THROUGH HERE, PIKEY?" _Pikey._ "E-AS, A HAVE--TUPPENSE!" _A lapse of twenty minutes is supposed to have taken place, when Youth pays the twopence and gallops on._ [Illustration: _Re-enter_ SPORTING YOUTH. _Youth (in a high state of excitement)._ "WHY, CONFOUND YOU! I THOUGHT YOU TOLD ME YOU HAD SEEN THE HOUNDS GO THROUGH HERE?" _Pikey._ "E-AS, SO A DID; SEED 'EM YESTERDAY!"] [Illustration: _PRIDE._ _Page._ "THAT POOR DEVIL AIN'T MIXED MUCH IN SOCIETY."] [Illustration: _A BOAT FOR AN HOUR._ _Stout Gentleman._ "WHAT! IS THAT THE ONLY BOAT YOU HAVE IN?"] [Illustration: _FISHING OFF BRIGHTON._ "OH, YES! IT'S VERY EASY TO SAY 'CATCH HOLD OF HIM!'"] [Illustration: _AGGRAVATING--RATHER!_] [Illustration: _FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE._ "OH! HERE'S A GO! BLOWED IF I AIN'T LOST MY DIAMOND RING!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW PURCHASE._ _Blanche (who dotes on horses)._ "THERE, FRANK. ISN'T SHE A PRETTY CREATURE? PAPA GAVE HER TO ME THIS MORNING--SHE IS SO GOOD-TEMPERED AND WHAT A NICE HEAD AND NECK SHE HAS! HASN'T SHE? SHE'S QUITE YOUNG, TOO--AND SUCH A BEAUTIFUL MOUTH!--NOW, WHAT DO YOU SAY, SIR, EH?" _Frank (who is so absurd)._ "H'M! LETS SEE, PRETTY CREATURE!--GOOD-TEMPERED!--NICE HEAD AND NECK!--YOUNG!--AND A BEAUTIFUL MOUTH!--WHY, I SAY, YOU MAKE A CAPITAL PAIR!"] [Illustration: _SEA-SIDE.--THE BATHING HOUR._] [Illustration: _DOING IT THOROUGHLY._ _Old Gent._ "I SAY, MY LITTLE MAN, YOU SHOULD ALWAYS HOLD YOUR PONY TOGETHER GOING UP HILL, AND OVER PLOUGHED LAND!" _Young Nimrod._ "ALL RIGHT, OLD COCK! DON'T YOU TEACH YOUR GRANDMOTHER TO SUCK EGGS! THERE'S MY MAN BY THE HAY-STACK WITH MY SECOND HORSE!"] [Illustration: _NOT WHAT HE WANTED._ MR. HAYCOCK, HAVING HEARD OF THE MERITS OF BRUISED OATS FOR HORSES, REQUESTS HIS FRIEND BRIGGS TO SEND HIM A COUPLE OF "BRUISERS." MR. BRIGGS DESPATCHES THE "WHITECHAPEL CHICKEN" AND THE "BAYSWATER SLASHER."] [Illustration: _WAITING FOR A DIP._ _Proprietor of Machine (loq.)._ "SORRY TO KEEP YOU SUCH A LONG TIME A WAITIN', SIR; BUT REALLY THEY STOP IN SUCH A TIME THAT WE HAVEN'T A MACHINE TO BLESS OURSELVES WITH. THERE'S CRUMPTON'S COTTAGES HAS BEEN IN THE WATER THIS THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR; AND ALBION HOUSE TAKES THE LONGEST TIME TO DRESS OF ANY GENT I EVER SEE. OH! HERE'S PROSPECT PLACE A COMING HOUT. NOW YOU CAN GO IN, SIR."] [Illustration: _PORTRAIT OF A LADY._] [Illustration: _JUST LIKE HIM._ _MR. BR--GGS (We suppress the Gentleman's name for obvious reasons)_ THINKS HE WILL GO TO HAMPTON RACES.] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: No. I. SALUTING HIS SUPERIOR OFFICERS.] [Illustration: No. II. HAVING A LITTLE BALL PRACTICE.] [Illustration: No. III. GOING ON DUTY.] [Illustration: _GROUNDLESS ALARM._ _Equestrian._ "NOW, BOY, DON'T YOU BE TAKING OFF YOUR HAT TO MAKE ME A BOW--YOU'LL FRIGHTEN MY HORSE." _Boy._ "A--A--A WARN'T A-GOING TO!"] [Illustration: _WOUNDED PRIDE._ _Small Boy._ "NOW, THEN, YOU SIR! DON'T YOU KNOW NO BETTER THAN TO RUN AGIN A MIMBER O' PARLIAMENT--JUST YOU COME BACK, AND PICK UP MY 'AT, OR I'M BLOWED IF I DON'T MAKE YER!"] [Illustration: _FLY-FISHING._ FAVOURABLE WIND AND THE TROUT RISING AS FAST AS POSSIBLE.] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: No. IV. FORMS HIMSELF INTO A SQUARE, AND RESISTS A CHARGE OF CAVALRY.] [Illustration: No. V. RECEIVES PRESENTATION OF COLOURS.] [Illustration: _MASTER OF THE SITUATION._ _Flunkey._ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR--BUT THERE IS ONE THING I SHOULD LIKE TO MENTION AT ONCE. I AM AFRAID--A--THAT I AM EXPECTED TO CLEAN THE BOOTS." _Gentleman._ "BLESS ME! OH DEAR, NO! THERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE; I ALWAYS CLEAN THEM MYSELF--AND IF YOU WILL LEAVE YOUR SHOES OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR, I WILL GIVE THEM A POLISH AT THE SAME TIME."] [Illustration: _ONLY A PENNY! A SENSIBLE AND INGENIOUS TOY FOR CHILDREN._ (_See London Streets._)] [Illustration: _TOPSY-TURVEYDOM._] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: No. VI. HAVING BEEN DRUNK AND DISORDERLY, IS ORDERED BY HIS "DASHING WHITE SERJEANT" TO DO DOUBLE DUTY.] [Illustration: No. VII. THE NIGHTS ARE STILL CHILLY; THEREFORE OUR FRIEND WARMS THE BED FOR HIS FAMILY PREVIOUS TO HIS GOING ON GUARD.] [Illustration: _AN ORNAMENT TO SOCIETY._ _Equestrian._ "NO, I SHAN'T STOP FOR THE LAST RACE; I MUST GET TO TOWN TO GO TO AN EVENING PARTY."] [Illustration: _MIGHT IS RIGHT._ _Van Driver._ "I DON'T KNOW NUTHUN ABOUT NO RIGHT SIDES NOR WRONG SIDES. YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY, IF YER DON'T WANT TO BE MADE A WAFER OF!" [_Where are the Police?_] [Illustration: _LONG VACATION._ "NOW THEN, LATITAT, TUCK IN YOUR SIX-AND-EIGHTPENNY!"] [Illustration: _THE TRIAL-FOR-MURDER MANIA._ "ALL IN! ALL IN! WALK UP, LADIES! JUST A GOING TO BEGIN! NONE OF YOUR SHAMS HERE, BUT REAL BULLET-HEADED MURDERERS! ALL IN! ALL IN!"] [Illustration: _THE SILVER AGE._ _Emma._ "WHAT DO YOU THINK, DEAR GRAN'MA? THE LADIES IN PARIS WEAR THEIR HAIR TAKEN OFF THE FOREHEAD AND SPRINKLED WITH SILVER!" _Grandma._ "DO THEY, INDEED! WELL, MY DARLING, SO LONG AS THEY ARE RESPECTABLE, THERE CAN BE NO HARM IN GREY LOCKS."] [Illustration: _DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL._ "DEAR! DEAR! DEAR! HOW VERY PROVOKING! HERE'S ONE END OF THE BARREL COME OUT, AND ALL THE OYSTERS MIXED WITH MY CLEAN COLLARS!"] [Illustration: _A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR._ _Domestic._ "HERE'S MISS BRADSHAW, MUM, HAS JUST COME; SHE'S GONE UP-STAIRS, MUM." _Angelina._ "OH, VERY WELL--I WILL--" _Edwin._ "BRADSHAW!! WHO THE DEUCE IS MISS BRADSHAW?" _Angelina._ "OH, IT'S NOTHING OF CONSEQUENCE, DEAR--SHALL I GIVE YOU SOME MORE TEA, DEAR?" _Edwin._ "YES; BUT WHO IS MISS BRADSHAW? WHY CAN'T YOU TELL ME WHO MISS BRADSHAW IS?" _Angelina._ "LAW! EDWIN! IF YOU MUST KNOW, IT'S--IT'S--TH'--THE _DRESSMAKER_."] [Illustration: _YOUNG AFFECTION._] _THE BEST PREVENTIVE AGAINST SEA-SICKNESS._ [Illustration: No. I. WHEN YOU CROSS THE CHANNEL, ESPECIALLY IF IT SHOULD BE BLOWING HARD, "KEEP YOUR PECKER UP" (AS THAT AGREEABLE RATTLE, YOUNG FIPPSON, CALLS IT) BY MAKING A HEARTY MEAL AT THE "SHIP" OR "PAVILION."] [Illustration: No. III. _THE RESULT._] [Illustration: No. II. AND ONCE ON BOARD, FIX YOUR EYES UPON SOME DISTANT OBJECT, AND ADAPT THE MOVEMENTS OF YOUR BODY TO THE ROLLING OF THE VESSEL, AND THE RESULT WILL PROBABLY BE, AS SHOWN ABOVE IN NO. III.] [Illustration: _ALARMING EFFECT PRODUCED BY IMPRUDENTLY TRYING THE HAT AND TABLE-MOVING EXPERIMENT._] [Illustration: _VERY KIND._ "WELL! GOOD BYE, UNCLE! I'VE ENJOYED MYSELF VERY MUCH IN THE COUNTRY; AND IF YOU WILL RUN UP TO LONDON AT ANY TIME, I'LL SHOW YOU A LITTLE LIFE!"] [Illustration: SET FAIR.] [Illustration: STORMY, AND MUCH RAIN.] _OUT OF TOWN._ [Illustration: _A BATH AT BOULOGNE._ APPALLING POSITION OF MR. AND MRS. TOMKINS, WHO HAD A JIB HORSE WHEN THE TIDE WAS COMING IN.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC EVENT IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS._--No. I. THE NOSE OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS PUT OUT OF JOINT BY THE YOUNG ELEPHANT.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC EVENT IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS._--No. II. DELICATE STATE OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. IT IS ORDERED CHANGE OF AIR, AND A LITTLE SEA-BATHING.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC EVENT IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS._--No. III. THE HIPPOPOTAMUS HAS QUITE RECOVERED, AND IS TAKEN OUT FOR AN AIRING.] [Illustration: _CONSOLS AT 90._ _Husband._ "WELL! I DECLARE I'M QUITE GLAD IT'S A WET DAY. IT WILL BE AN EXCUSE TO STOP AT HOME WITH MY DARLING LITTLE PIPSEY POPSY. WHAT DO YOU SAY, DICKEY! EH? PRETTY DICK! PRETTY DICK!"] [Illustration: _CONSOLS AT 80._ _Husband._ "GO OUT FOR A WALK! NONSENSE! I'VE SOMETHING ELSE TO DO. I THINK TOO, YOU MIGHT PULL DOWN THAT BLIND, UNLESS YOU WANT THE SUN TO SPOIL ALL THE FURNITURE; AND, DEAR, DEAR, DO FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, JEMIMA, TAKE THAT D---- CANARY OUT OF THE ROOM!"] [Illustration: _A BIT OF SERIOUS PANTOMIME._ A MESSAGE FROM THE LORDS.] [Illustration: _ANOTHER BIT OF SERIOUS PANTOMIME._ "HATS OFF, STRANGERS!"] [Illustration: _NEW CRICKETING DRESSES TO PROTECT ALL ENGLAND AGAINST THE PRESENT SWIFT BOWLING._] [Illustration: _AQUATICS._ WHO IS THIS? WHY, THIS IS MR. JOHN CHUBB PULLING ONE OF HIS LONG, SLOW, STEADY STROKES. HE IS TAKING MORE PAINS THAN USUAL, BECAUSE THOSE PRETTY GIRLS IN THE ROUND HATS ARE SITTING ON THE LAWN DRAWING FROM NATURE.] [Illustration: AND--HERE ARE THE GIRLS IN THE ROUND HATS.] [Illustration: _THE NEW GROOM._ _Gentleman._ "DO YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU UNDERSTAND THE CARE OF HORSES?" _Boy._ "WELL, SIR, I HAD OUGHT TO--FOR I'VE BEEN AMONGST 'EM ALL MY LIFE."] [Illustration: _AN ANCIENT IMPOSTOR._ _Youths._ "THEN, I SUPPOSE, WHEN YOU WERE A SMUGGLER, YOU USED TO HAVE REG'LAR COMBATS AND FIGHTS?" _Boatman._ "COMBATS AND FIGHTS! LOR LOVE YER, WE WOS A'MOST ALWAYS AT IT. ONCE IN PARTICKLER I CALL TO MIND. I HAD THREE BALLS THROUGH MY HEAD AND TWO IN THE STUMMUCK (WHICH I FEEL 'EM NOW SOMETIMES IN THE WINTER I DO), BESIDES BEIN' RUN THROUGH WITH A CUTLASS, AND ALL MY FRONT TEETH KNOCKED OUT BY THE PERWENTIVE MAN'S TELESCOPE, WICH LUCKILY SHUT UP, OR THERE'S NO KNOWIN' WOT MIGHT 'A BIN THE CONSEQUENCE. AH! THERE _WOS_ GOINGS ON THEN. BUT, LOR, IT AIN'T NOTHIN' LIKE IT NOW!" [_Youths are deeply impressed._] [Illustration: _A REFLECTION._ ALTHOUGH POLICEMEN ARE PLACED AT PARTICULAR SPOTS FOR THE PURPOSE OF MAKING OMNIBUSES "MOVE ON," THEY ARE GENERALLY SEEN CHATTING, OR CRACKING THE FRIENDLY WALNUT WITH THE CONDUCTORS, TO THE INCONVENIENCE AND INDIGNATION OF THE PASSENGERS. HOW IS THIS?] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF HORSEKEEPING. [Illustration: NO. X. _BY THE TIME MR. BRIGGS'S HORSE HAS RECOVERED FROM HIS COLD, A LONG FROST SETS IN._ _Groom._ "THAT'S JUST WHAT I SAY, SIR; IT IS AGGERAVATIN' TO SEE A NICE OSS LIKE THAT, SIR, A DOIN' NOTHIN' BUT EATIN' HIS 'ED OFF."] [Illustration: _A GREAT BARGAIN._ TO BE SOLD--THE PROPERTY OF AN OFFICER GOING ABROAD.] [Illustration: _THE HAT-MOVING EXPERIMENT._ IT IS NECESSARY TO GET A HAT. TWO OR MORE PERSONS PLACE THEIR HANDS ON THE RIM THEREOF, THE LITTLE FINGERS OF EACH PERSON BEING IN CONTACT. IN ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES, OR HALF-AN-HOUR, OR PERHAPS MORE, THE HAT WILL BEGIN TO JUMP AND REVOLVE RAPIDLY. (_N.B. The Party above with the Moustaches, thinks that in the pursuit of Science he could perform the experiment over and over again._)] [Illustration: _SHAKSPEARE A LITTLE ALTERED._ "HE LIVED NOT WISELY, BUT TOO WELL."] [Illustration: _USELESS INFORMATION._ "NOW, MARM, THIS GOES TO THE CHRISTIAL PALIS." "BLESS THE MAN! I DON'T WANT NO CHRISTIAL PALISES. I AM GOIN' TO THE BOROUGH."] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: NO. VIII. HAVING A COLD IN HIS HEAD, RESORTS TO AN INGENIOUS METHOD OF PRESERVING HIS HEALTH WITHOUT DESERTING HIS POST.] [Illustration: _THE DEAR DELIGHTS OF BRITAIN'S SUMMER FIELDS._ OVER THE STYLE.] [Illustration: _THE DEAR DELIGHTS OF BRITAIN'S SUMMER FIELDS._ HAYMAKING.] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: No. IX. _THE BIVOUAC._] [Illustration: No. X. _AT BUSINESS._ _Militia Man_ (_loq._). "ALEXANDER, WHEN YOU'VE TITTIVATED THAT GENT, YOU MUST COME TO DRILL."] [Illustration: _COMPARATIVE LOVE._ _Papa._ "SO, CHARLEY, YOU REALLY ARE IN LOVE WITH THE LITTLE BLACK-EYED GIRL YOU MET LAST NIGHT?" _Charley._ "YES, PAPA, I LOVE HER DEARLY!" _Papa._ "HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE HER, CHARLEY? DO YOU LOVE HER AS MUCH AS PUDDING?" _Charley._ "OH YES, PAPA! AND A GREAT DEAL BETTER THAN PUDDING, BUT (_pausing to reflect_)--I DON'T LOVE--HER SO MUCH AS--JELLY!"] [Illustration: _PLEASURES OF THE STUDIO._ WHEN EVERY MOMENT IS OF CONSEQUENCE, MR. FLAKE WHITE'S MODEL FOR HAMLET APPEARS WITH A BLACK EYE, WHICH HE DECLARES IS THE EFFECT OF INFLUENZA.] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: NO. XI. HAVING CURED HIS COLD WITH RUM-AND-WATER, RESOLVES NOT TO GO HOME "TILL DAY-LIGHT DOES APPEAR." HE ASSURES THE POLICEMAN THAT "IT'S ALL RIGHT."] [Illustration: NO. XII. OWING TO THE MILDNESS OF THE SEASON, HE LOOKS UP HIS DUCKS.] [Illustration: _SO FOND OF IT._ "THERE NOW; THAT'S A CIGAR I CAN CONFIDENTLY RECOMMEND." "WELL; PUT ME UP A DOZEN TO TRY!"] [Illustration: _DIFFERENCE OF VIEW._ _Head of the Family._ "FOR WHAT WE ARE GOING TO RECEIVE, MAKE US TRULY THANKFUL.--HEM! COLD MUTTON AGAIN!" _Wife of his Bussum._ "AND A VERY GOOD DINNER TOO, ALEXANDER, _SOMEBODY_ MUST BE ECONOMICAL. _PEOPLE_ CAN'T EXPECT TO HAVE _RICHMOND_ AND _GREENWICH_ DINNERS OUT OF THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING MONEY I HAVE."] [Illustration: _WHOLESOME PREJUDICE._ "RAILROADS, SIR? I HATE RAILROADS, AND I SHALL BE VERY GLAD WHEN THEY'RE DONE AWAY WITH, AND WE'VE GOT THE COACHES AGAIN."] [Illustration: _PREPARING FOR THE DERBY._ "I SAY, MISTER, JUST PUT US UP A COUPLE OF GREEN WEILS, WILL YER? THE DUST IS SO UNCOMMON DISAGREEABLE A-DRIVING DOWN TO HEPSOM!"] [Illustration: _ALL IS VANITY._] THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. [Illustration: NO. XIII. HAVING GIVEN HIMSELF LEAVE OF ABSENCE, HE ENJOYS A LITTLE DOMESTIC FELICITY.] [Illustration: _A YOUNG PATRICIAN._ _First Swell._ "WHAT AN ASTONISHING COAT, GUS!" _Second Do._ "YA-AS! YOU SEE ALL THE SNOBS DWESS SO INFERN'LY LOUD--THAT FWED AND I THOUGHT WE WOULD COME DOWN VEWY QUIET."] [Illustration: _HOW TO TAKE CARE OF THE CHILDREN._ A DESIGN, SHOWING HOW THE PRETTY HOODS WORN BY LADIES MIGHT BE MADE USEFUL AS WELL AS ORNAMENTAL.] [Illustration: _THE END OF A FIVE MINUTES' BURST._ _Stout Gentleman._ "THAT'S THE WAY TO GO OVER A GATE! I DON'T THINK YOU LEFT ME SO FAR BEHIND THAT TIME."] [Illustration: _REMOVING._--No. I. _Father of the Family._ "OH, IT'S ALL STUFF AND NONSENSE, MRS. G., IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN MANAGED OVER AND OVER AGAIN BY THIS TIME." _Mrs. G._ "LAW, MY DEAR, HOW YOU TALK! AND I'M SURE YOU HAVEN'T BEEN PUT TO MUCH INCONVENIENCE." _Mother-in-Law._ "THERE, THERE, JEMIMA. DON'T ANSWER HIM; IT'S QUITE RIDICULOUS."] [Illustration: _GROUSE SHOOTING LATE IN THE SEASON. JOLLY, VERY._ "COME ALONG, OLD FELLOW! HERE'S A POINT!"] [Illustration: _REMOVING._--No. II. FIRST NIGHT IN THE NEW HOUSE--AWFUL DISCOVERY OF BLACK BEETLES.] [Illustration: _PERFECT SINCERITY; OR, THINKINGS ALOUD._ NO. I. _Mamma._ "YOU ARE A DISAGREEABLE OLD BACHELOR, AND GENERALLY HATE CHILDREN, I KNOW--BUT ISN'T DEAR LITTLE WORMWOOD A FINE, NOBLE LITTLE FELLOW?" _Old Gent._ "WELL, IF YOU WANT MY CANDID OPINION, I MAY AS WELL TELL YOU AT ONCE--THAT I THINK HIM THE MOST DETESTABLE LITTLE BEAST I EVER SAW--AND IF YOU IMAGINE I AM GOING TO LEAVE HIM ANYTHING BECAUSE YOU HAVE NAMED HIM AFTER ME, YOU ARE MIGHTILY MISTAKEN."] [Illustration: SPELLING A NEWSPAPER.] [Illustration: _PERFECT SINCERITY; OR, THINKINGS ALOUD._ NO. II. _Artist No. 1._ "THERE, MASTER OKER, I FLATTER MYSELF THAT WILL TAKE THE SHINE OUT OF YOUR PRECIOUS PRODUCTION, ALTHOUGH YOU DO THINK NOBODY CAN PAINT BUT YOURSELF." _Artist No. 2._ "HEY! DEAR, DEAR, DEAR! THAT'S VERY BAD. BY JOVE, MY BOY, IT'S A DREADFUL FALLING-OFF FROM LAST YEAR. IF I WERE YOU, I SHOULD THINK TWICE BEFORE I SENT IT IN." _Artist No. 1._ "MERE ENVY.--ILLIBERAL HUMBUG."] [Illustration: _STUDY OF AN ELDERLY FEMALE HAILING THE LAST OMBLEBUS._] [Illustration: _PERFECT SINCERITY; OR, THINKINGS ALOUD._ NO. III. _Medical Man._ "STUPID OLD FOOL! WHY, THERE'S NOTHING THE MATTER WITH HIM, EXCEPT WHAT ARISES FROM HIS OVER EATING AND DRINKING HIMSELF--ONLY I CAN'T AFFORD TO TELL HIM SO."] [Illustration: _THE OPERA._ "PLEASE, SIR, GIVE US YOUR TICKET, IF YOU AIN'T A-GOIN' IN AGAIN."] [Illustration: _A HUMOROUS CUSTOMER._ _Gentleman in Cart._ "I SAY, GUV'NOR, BRING US OUT A SPOONFUL O' GIN FOR THE OLD LADY, WILL YER?--AND I'LL TAKE A PINT O' MILD ALE--AND LOOK HERE. I DON'T WANT IT THICK--FOR I _AIN'T HUNGRY_!"] [Illustration: _MANLY SORROW._ _Swell on Horseback._ "WHY, CHARLEY, WHAT'S THE MATTER, OLD BOY? YOU SEEM OUT OF SPIRITS." _Swell on Foot._ "AH! I'VE HAD A SAD LOSS, FRED! I'VE LOST THE LITTLE GRIDIRON OFF MY CHATELAINE!!"] [Illustration: MELANCHOLY SCENE AT THE OPERA ON A CROWDED NIGHT.] [Illustration: _AT GREENWICH FAIR._ "AND MELANCHOLY MARK'D HIM FOR HER OWN."] [Illustration: _BRIBERY IS DETESTABLE! BUT POLITENESS COSTS NOTHING._ _Canvasser._ "PRAY, GENTLEMEN, DON'T THINK OF WALKING TO THE POLLING BOOTH; I AM SURE YOUR TIME MUST BE VALUABLE, AND HERE'S A CARRIAGE QUITE AT YOUR SERVICE."] [Illustration: _EARLY EDUCATION._ _Harry_ (to TOM). "THERE'S ONE GREAT BORE ABOUT A WATERING-PLACE; THEY SELL SUCH HORRID CIGARS."] [Illustration: _MAY-DAY._ DISTRESSING POSITION OF A SENTIMENTAL GENTLEMAN WHO WAS ABOUT TO OFFER HIS HAND AND HEART TO THE OBJECT OF HIS AFFECTIONS.] [Illustration: _A CHEAP DAY'S HUNTING._ NO. I. FIRST GET YOUR SEASONED "SCREW."] [Illustration: _A CHEAP DAY'S HUNTING._ NO. II. ABOUT FOUR MILES "DOWN THE ROAD" GET PROPERLY SPLASHED AT A PUBLIC-HOUSE.] [Illustration: _RATHER A DROP._ _City Gent_ (_who fancies himself a Judge of a Horse, and no end of a Swell_). "THAT'S A NICE LITTLE TIT, CABBY, AND BROUGHT US ALONG WELL!" _Cabby._ "YESSIR! HE IS A NICE LITTLE 'OS, _HE_ IS--BUT LOR BLESS YER! HIS 'ART'S TOO BIG FOR HIS BODY. HE'S TOO GOOD FOR MY WORK! NOW HE'D JEST SUIT SUCH A GENT AS YOU--TO DRIVE A LIGHT TEA-CART ABOUT TOWN FOR ORDERS ON A WEEK-DAY, AND TAKE THE MISSUS OUT FOR THE DAY O' SUNDAYS!"] [Illustration: _A CHEAP DAY'S HUNTING._ NO. III. AND RETURN HOME SMOKING A CHEROOT, TO THE ADMIRATION OF THE POPULACE.] [Illustration: _UNDENIABLE._ _Buyer._ "IS HE WELL BROKE?" _Seller._ "LOR, BLESS YE! LOOK AT HIS KNEES!"] [Illustration: _THE AGRICULTURAL DISTRESS DODGE._ _Beggar._ "DID YOU GET THE LAMB'S FRY?" _His Child._ "ALL RIGHT." _Beggar._ "WELL, NOW, RUN HOME AND TELL YER MOTHER NOT TO BOIL THE SPARRERGRASS TILL I COME."] [Illustration: _REMONSTRANCE._ _London Merchant._ "WHY, WHAT IS THE USE OF YOUR BEING IN A RESPECTABLE HOUSE OF BUSINESS IF YOU PROCEED IN THIS ABSURD, VULGAR MANNER? NOW, TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, UNLESS YOU MEND VERY CONSIDERABLY, YOU WILL GO ON FROM BAD TO WORSE. YOU WILL BECOME A PETTY HUCKSTER; FROM THAT YOU WILL, IN ALL PROBABILITY, GET TO BE A MERE COMMON-COUNCILMAN; THEN AN ALDERMAN; WHEN, AFTER A COURSE OF GLUTTONY AND TOMFOOLERY, PAINFUL TO THINK OF, YOU WILL MAKE A RIDICULOUS TERMINATION TO YOUR CONTEMPTIBLE CAREER BY ACTUALLY BECOMING A +LORD MAYOR+."] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION! [Illustration: NO. I. _THE PARLIAMENTARY FEMALE._ _Father of the Family._ "COME, DEAR; WE SO SELDOM GO OUT TOGETHER NOW--CAN'T YOU TAKE US ALL TO THE PLAY TO-NIGHT?" _Mistress of the House and M.P._ "HOW YOU TALK, CHARLES! DON'T YOU SEE THAT I AM TOO BUSY. I HAVE A COMMITTEE TO-MORROW MORNING, AND I HAVE MY SPEECH ON THE GREAT CROCHET QUESTION TO PREPARE FOR THE EVENING."] [Illustration: NO. II. _THE DRAWING-ROOM._] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION! [Illustration: NO. III. _THE DINING-ROOM._ _Lady of the House._ "NOW THEN, GIRLS! FILL YOUR GLASSES! BUMPERS! HERE'S JUST ONE TOAST WHICH I AM SURE YOU WILL ALL DRINK WITH PLEASURE. THE GENTLEMEN!!"] [Illustration: NO. IV. _NATURALLY THE FEMALE THINKS SHOPPING VERY TIRESOME._ _Superior Creature._ "FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, EDWARD, DO COME AWAY! WHEN YOU ONCE GET INTO A SHOP, THERE'S NO GETTING YOU OUT AGAIN."] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION! [Illustration: NO. V. _SPORTING FOR LADIES._] [Illustration: NO. VI. _THE BAND AT ST. JAMES'S PALACE._] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION! [Illustration: NO. VII. _A "BUS" CONDUCTRESS._ _Old Gentleman._ "YOU ARE A VERY SAUCY, IMPUDENT WOMAN, AND I'LL CERTAINLY SUMMON YOU!" _Conductress._ "THANK YE, SIR! (_To Driver._) GO ON, SARAH; NEVER MIND THE OLD COVE."] [Illustration: NO. VIII. _MARY PROTECTING THE WEAKER SEX._] [Illustration: NO. IX. _THE ARREST BY BAILIFFS._ "AND SERVE HER RIGHT TOO--EXTRAVAGANCE IN A MAN IS, IN SOME DEGREE, EXCUSABLE, FOR HE KNOWS NO BETTER--BUT, IN A WOMAN, IT IS QUITE UNPARDONABLE."] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION! [Illustration: NO. X. _MISS BROWN TAKES HER COUSIN OUT FISHING._ _Inferior Animal._ "OH DEAR! MISS BROWN! HERE'S A FISH TAKEN ALL MY BAIT. DO COME AND PUT ON ANOTHER WORM!"] [Illustration: NO. XI. _THE WOMAN AT THE WHEEL._] [Illustration: _THE REAL FLOWER-SHOW._] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. I.--_APROPOS OF BLOOMERISM._ _Visitor_ (_who is looking at the Print of the Bloomer Costume_). "WELL, NOW, UPON MY WORD, I DON'T SEE ANYTHING RIDICULOUS IN IT. _I_ SHALL CERTAINLY ADOPT IT." _Strong-minded Lady._ "FOR MY PART, I SO THOROUGHLY DESPISE CONVENTIONALITY, THAT I HAVE ORDERED ALL MY NEW THINGS TO BE MADE IN THAT VERY RATIONAL STYLE!"] [Illustration: NO. II. THE SORT OF LEG THAT LOOKS WELL IN BLOOMER PETTILOONS.] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. III.--_RESULTS OF BLOOMERISM--THE LADIES POP THE QUESTION._ _Superior Creature._ "SAY! OH, SAY, DEAREST! WILL YOU BE MINE?" &c., &c.] [Illustration: NO. IV.--_A POSER FOR A BLOOMER._ _Old Gentleman._ "BEFORE I CAN ENTERTAIN YOUR PROPOSAL, AND GIVE MY CONSENT TO YOUR MARRYING MY SON, I MUST ASK YOU WHETHER YOU ARE IN A POSITION--A--TO--A--KEEP HIM IN THE STYLE TO WHICH--A--I MAY SAY--HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN ACCUSTOMED? AHEM!"] THE LADIES OF CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. V.--_A PROBABLE INCIDENT IF BLOOMERISM ISN'T PUT DOWN._ _Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MISS, THE DRESSMAKER HAS BROUGHT HOME YOUR NEW--AHEM--FROCK."] [Illustration: NO. VI.--_SOMETHING MORE OF BLOOMERISM._ (BEHIND THE COUNTER THERE IS ONE OF THE "INFERIOR ANIMALS.")] THE LADIES OF CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. VII.--_BLOOMERISM IN A BALL-ROOM._ _Bloomer._ "MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF DANCING THE NEXT POLKA WITH YOU?"] [Illustration: NO. VIII.--_BLOOMERISM AT HOME._ _Strong-minded Female._ "NOW, DO PRAY, ALFRED, PUT DOWN THAT FOOLISH NOVEL, AND DO SOMETHING RATIONAL. GO, AND PLAY SOMETHING ON THE PIANO; YOU NEVER PRACTISE NOW YOU'RE MARRIED."] [Illustration: NO. IX. _EFFICIENCY OF FEMALE POLICE IN WHAT IS VULGARLY CALLED A "JOLLY ROW."_] THE LADIES OF CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. X. _BLOOMERIANA--DREAM_] THE LADIES OF THE CREATION--BLOOMERISM. [Illustration: NO. XI.--_THE BARRISTER._] [Illustration: NO. XII.--_THE HEIRESS._] [Illustration: NO. XIII.--_THE SAILOR._] [Illustration: NO. XIV.--_ON THE ROAD._] [Illustration: NO. XV.--_AT THE DERBY._] [Illustration: NO. XVI.--_IN THE PARK._] [Illustration: _THE STEEPLE-CHASE._ _First Sporting Gent_ (_reads_). "'+CAUTION+.--NO HORSEMAN WILL, ON ANY ACCOUNT, BE ALLOWED TO FOLLOW THE RACEHORSES OVER THE STEEPLE-CHASE COURSE.' DEAR ME! HOW PROVOKING! I SHOULD A LIKED TO HAVE POPPED OVER THIS BROOK!" _Second Gent thinks they had better not interfere with any of the Regulations._] [Illustration: _MR. 'ARRY BELVILLE ON THE CONTINENT GENERALLY._ _'Arry Belville._ "YES! I LIKE IT EXTREMELY. I LIKE THE _Lazy Ally_ SORT OF FEELING. I LIKE SITTING AT THE DOOR OF A _Caffy_ TO SMOKE MY CIGAR; AND ABOVE ALL _(onter noo)_ IT'S A GREAT COMFORT TO WEAR ONE'S BEARD WITHOUT BEING LARFED AT!"] [Illustration: _SCENE.--BUREAU OF THE CHIEFS OF THE DOUANES._ _French Official._ "YOU HAVE PASSPORT?" _English Gent._ "NONO, MOSSOO." _Official._ "YOUR NAME?" _Gent._ "BELVILLE." _Official_. "CHRISTIAN NOM?" _Gent._ "'ARRY!" _Official._ "PROFESSION?" _Gent._ "+BANKER!+"] [Illustration: _OUR FRIEND BELVILLE AIRS HIS FRENCH AT BOULOGNE, TO THE ADMIRATION OF DOBBINS, WHO DOESN'T SPEAK THE LANGUAGE._ _Belville._ "AHEM! PARDONG MOSSOO!--ESKER VOUS AVEY-A-SUCH A CHOSE AS A-A-UNE POT--A-THAT IS A-A-UNE PO YOU KNOW-DE-DE-DE BEAR'S GREASE? COMPRENNY?--BEAR'S GREASE?"] [Illustration: _ON THE MOORS._ _Mr. Puff._ "_MY_ BIRD. I THINK." _Mr. Muff._ "BELONGS TO _ME_, I FANCY" &C. &C. &C.] [Illustration: _LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP._ "WO--MARE. HANG IT!--ANYTHING IN REASON I DON'T MIND; BUT, AS A FATHER OF A FAMILY, I DON'T FEEL JUSTIFIED IN GOING AT SUCH A GATE AS THAT."] [Illustration: _HOW KIND._ _Cruel Little Puth._ "OH, HARRIET DEAR--PUT ON YOUR HAT AND LET US THEE THE STEAMBOAT COME IN. THE THEA IS THO ROUGH!--AND THE PEOPLE WILL BE _SO_ ABTHURDLY THICK!!!"] [Illustration: _FOLKESTONE.--ARRIVAL OF THE BOULOGNE BOAT. WIND S.W._] [Illustration: _AN ANXIOUS MOMENT._ "DON'T MOVE THERE, WE SHALL CLEAR YOU!"] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE KNOWING THE COUNTRY._ _Huntsman (to Officer going Abroad)._ "PLEASE BE SO GOOD, SIR, AS GIVE MY RESPECTS TO MASTER HARRY." _Officer._ "OH! BUT MY BROTHER IS IN THE WEST INDIES, AND I AM GOING TO THE EAST." _Huntsman_. "MAYHAP YOU'LL MEET AT T'COVER SIDE ALL THE SAME, SIR."] [Illustration: _COOL ASSURANCE._ _Undergraduate._ "YOU DON'T OBJECT TO SMOKING, I HOPE?" _Old Party (probably a Director)._ "YES, SIR. I OBJECT VERY MUCH INDEED! IN FACT, I HAVE THE STRONGEST OBJECTION TO SMOKING!!!" _Undergraduate._ "HM! HA! SOME PEOPLE HAVE." [_Smokes for the next fifty miles._] [Illustration: _FASHIONS FOR FAST MEN._ _Tom._ "WHICH DO YOU LIKE BEST FOR TROUSERS, BILL, CHECKS OR STRIPES?" _Bill._ "WELL, I THINK CHECKS ARE UNCOMMON SUPERIOR, BUT STRIPES IS MOST NOBBY."] [Illustration: THOSE SHOCKING CLUBS. _Charley (who is rather addicted to betting)._"--AND TALKING OF GOODWOOD RACES, WE'VE GOT SUCH A JOLLY SWEEP AT OUR CLUB!" _Constance._ "A SWEEP, CHARLES!--WELL! I NEVER THOUGHT MUCH OF YOUR CLUB FRIENDS, BUT I DIDN'T THINK YOU ASSOCIATED WITH PEOPLE OF THAT SORT!"] [Illustration: _IN A VERY BAD WAY._ "WHY, YOU SEEM QUITE WRETCHED, FRANK!" "WRETCHED, MY BOY! AH, YOU MAY IMAGINE HOW WRETCHED I AM, WHEN I TELL YOU I DON'T EVEN CARE HOW MY TWOWSERS ARE MADE!"] _THE PERILS OF A COURT PRESENTATION._ [Illustration: BEFORE PAYING HER RESPECTS AT ST. JAMES'S.] [Illustration: AFTER PAYING HER RESPECTS AT ST. JAMES'S.] [Illustration: _FRIGHTFUL._ _Clara._ "WELL, ROSE, DEAR, AND HOW DO YOU FEEL AFTER THE PARTY?" _Rose._ "OH, PRETTY WELL; ONLY I HAVE HAD SUCH A HORRID DREAM! DO YOU KNOW, I DREAMT THAT THAT GREAT STUPID CAPTAIN DRAWLER UPSET A DISH OF TRIFLE OVER MY NEW LACE DRESS WITH THE BLUE SLIP?"] [Illustration: _TRUTH IS GREAT._ _Unsophisticated Little Girl._ "NOW, YOU A'DONE, BILLY. IF YOU AIN'T QUIET DIRECTLY, I'LL GIVE YER TO THIS GREAT, BIG HUGLY MAN!" [_Immense delight of Swell in gorgeous array._] [Illustration: _A DELUSION._ _Dean._ "WELL, SIR?" _Small University Man (under the impression that he has irritated the Dean by his conspicuous moustachios)._ "I BELIEVE YOU WANTED TO SPEAK TO ME, SIR, ABOUT--ABOUT--MY MOUSTACHIOS!" _Dean._ "SOME MISTAKE, SIR! I DIDN'T PERCEIVE THAT YOU HAD ANY!"] [Illustration: _MISPLACED CONFIDENCE._ _Exquisite (to the Mamma of Performer)._ "WHAT A PITY THAT GURL'S FRIENDS DON'T TAKE HER AWAY FROM THAT PIANO. SHE'S NOT BAD LOOKING, BUT SHE HAS GOT A VOICE LIKE A PEACOCK!!!"] [Illustration: _A CAPITAL OFFER._ "I SAY, GRANNY! CHARLEY SUMMERS AND I ARE GOING TO TAKE LION OUT IN A BOAT FOR A SWIM--NOW IF YOU'LL GIVE ME A SHILLING WE WILL TAKE YOU AND THE GIRLS OUT FOR A ROW!"] [Illustration: _SCENE ON THE ENGLISH COAST._] [Illustration: _THE TOO FAITHFUL PORTRAIT._ _Georgina (in riding habit)._ "WELL, DEAR! I DECLARE IT'S THE VERY IMAGE OF YOU! I NEVER!" _Sarah Jane (who insists upon seeing the plate)._ "LIKE ME? FOR GOODNESS' SAKE DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, GEORGINA. I THINK IT'S PERFECTLY ABSURD! WHY, IT HAS GIVEN ME A STUPID LITTLE TURN-UP NOSE, AND A MOUTH THAT'S ABSOLUTELY ENORMOUS!"] [Illustration: _DREADFUL DESTITUTION._ _First._ "MY DEAR FRANK--WHAT IS THE MATTER, OLD BOY?" _Second._ "OH! I AM DISTRESSED TO DEATH ABOUT MONEY MATTERS--I DON'T KNOW WHAT I SHALL DO? WHY, HERE'S JENNY LIND COMING OUT ON THURSDAY, AND I POSITIVELY HAVEN'T THE MONEY TO PAY FOR A BOX!"] [Illustration: _A PLEDGE OF AFFECTION._ _Angelina._ "WILL MY DARLING EDWIN GRANT HIS ANGELINA A BOON?" _Edwin._ "IS THERE ANYTHING ON EARTH HER EDWIN WOULD NOT DO FOR HIS PET?--NAME THE BOON, OH, DEAREST--NAME IT!" _Angelina._ "THEN, LOVE, AS WE DINE BY OURSELVES TO-MORROW, LET US, OH! LET US HAVE ROAST PORK, WITH PLENTY OF SAGE AND ONIONS!"] [Illustration: _VERY PARTICULAR._ _First Railway Porter._ "WHAT DOES HE SAY, BILL?" _Second ditto._ "WHY, HE SAYS HE MUST HAVE A COMPARTMENT TO HISSELF, BECAUSE HE CAN'T GET ON WITHOUT HIS SMOKE!"] [Illustration: _MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._--No. I. _Gent._ "I SAY, MOSEY! WHY DON'T YER GO THE 'OLE 'OG, AND LET ALL YER BEARD GROW, LIKE ME?"] [Illustration: _OUR BOYS._ _Master Tom (to Old Lady who is very nervous about fire)._ "IT'S ALL RIGHT, GRANMA! MY CANDLE IS OUT. I'M ONLY SMOKING MY USUAL WEED!"] [Illustration: _USEFUL, IF NOT ORNAMENTAL._ _Master Alfred (an ingenious Boy)._ "LOOK HERE, WALTER! SEE WHAT A JOLLY TARGET OLD AUNT BETSY'S ROUND HAT MAKES."] [Illustration: _A BACK VIEW._ "NOW, CHARLEY! HERE'S THAT PRETTY ROUND HAT AGAIN--WE _WILL_ HAVE A LOOK AT HER THIS TIME."] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM; OR, WHAT'S TO BECOME OF THE MISSUSES?_--No. I. _Servant Gal._ "OH! IF YOU PLEASE, MAM, THERE WAS ONE OTHER THINK I SHOULD LIKE TO 'AVE SETTLED." _Lady._ "YES?" _Gal._ "WHERE DO YOU GO TO THE SEA-SIDE IN THE SUMMER? BECAUSE I COULDN'T STOP AT A DULL PLACE AND WHERE THE HAIR WASN'T VERY BRACING!"] [Illustration: _OH!_ _Lady._ "YOU DON'T MEAN TO TELL ME, MARY, THAT MY NEW CRYSTAL MILK JUG IS BRO----!" _Mary._ "YES, 'M, IT'S THE ORKERDEST JUG AS HEVER I SEE--IT JEST TOOK AND TUMBLED RIGHT OFF ITS 'ANDLE!! WHICH IT'S LEFT ITS 'ANDLE IN MY 'AND, 'M."] [Illustration: _SOCIAL STRUGGLES._] [Illustration: _OUR "USED UP" MAN TAKES A WALK WITH HIS COUSINS IN KENSINGTON GARDENS._] [Illustration: _AWFUL APPEARANCE OF A "WOPPS" AT A PICNIC._] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE SYSTEM._ "AW! PUMMELL, WHAT DO I OWE YOU?" "OH! NOT MUCH, SIR. IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE." "AW! NO. BUT I THINK OF TAKING THE BENEFIT OF THE ACT ABOUT CHRISTMAS; AND AS A MAN OF SYSTEM, I AM VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT EXACT AMOUNTS."] [Illustration: _PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL._ _Maid._ "LAW BLESS YER! THAT AIN'T MISSUS'S OWN 'AIR; IT'S A WIG!"] [Illustration: _PUNCTUALITY IS THE SOUL OF BUSINESS._ "NO-O-O. GOOD-NIGHT, OLD CHAP! BUSINESS IS THE SOUL OF PUNCTUALITY. I MUST GO NOW. I'VE GOT SOME BUSI-BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO--(_hic_)--LET-TERS TO--WRITE!"] [Illustration: _EXTREMES MEET._ "THIS IS YOUR BED, SIR!"] [Illustration: _A LARGE BUMP OF CAUTION._ _Flora._ "OH, LET US SIT HERE, AUNT. THE BREEZE IS SO DELIGHTFUL." _Aunt._ "YES, DOVE!--IT'S VERY NICE, I DARE SAY; BUT I WON'T COME ANY NEARER TO THE CLIFF, FOR I AM ALWAYS AFRAID OF _SLIPPING THROUGH THOSE RAILINGS_!"] [Illustration: _HEART-BREAKING._ _Philanthropist._ "WHAT NOW, MY MAN?" _Street Boy._ "THEY'VE BEEN AND GONE AND SPIKED MY PEA-SHOOTER!"] [Illustration: _A VICTIM OF PLEASURE._ "WHAT A STUNNING MEERSCHAUM YOU'VE GOT THERE, CHARLEY!" "YES, I THINK IT WILL BE HANDSOME BY THE TIME I'VE PROPERLY COLOURED IT."] [Illustration: _A YOUNG PHILOSOPHER._ _First Butcher-Boy._ "SO THEY'VE DONE AWAY WITH SMITHFEL!" _Second Butcher-Boy._ "AH! THEY'LL SOON BE BOWLING OUT HALL OUR OLD INSTITOOSHUNS."] [Illustration: _A VERY GREAT MAN._ "NOW, COLLINS YOU MUST GO OUT VERY DEEP, FOR I WANT TO TAKE A 'HEADER!'"] [Illustration: _AQUATICS._ _Flora._ "WELL, BUT, TOMMY! DO YOU THINK YOU CAN ROW BOTH OF US?" _Tommy (who fancies himself a perfect Athlete in high condition)._ "ROW YOU! WHY, JUST YOU LOOK HERE; HERE'S A BICEPS MUSCLE FOR YOU!"] [Illustration: _SEA-SIDE SATURDAY EVENING.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE "HUSBANDS' BOAT."_] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. II. _Housemaid._ "WELL, SOOSAN, I'VE MADE UP MY MIND NOT TO STOP 'ERE NO LONGER TO WORK LIKE NEGROES AS WE DO!" _Cook._ "NOR I, NUTHER! BUT JUST TURN THE MEAT, WILL YOU, PLEASE, THE WHILST I FINISH MY CROCHET?"] [Illustration: _IMPROVEMENT IN IRISH AFFAIRS._ "WHOO!--WILL ANY JINTLEMAN BE SO ENGAGIN' AS TO THREAD ON THE TAIL OF ME REGISTHERED PALLYTOE?"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. III. _Old Lady._ "WHAT IS IT, BOY?" _Boy._ "PLEASE'M--IT'S A PAIR OF WHITE SATING SHOES, AND THE LADY'S FAN WOT'S BIN MENDED--NAME OF MISS JULIER PEARLASH!" _Old Lady._ "MISS!!!!!?????" _Voice from the Area._ "OH, IT'S ALL RIGHT, MUM. IT'S ME!"] [Illustration: _AN IRISH HOTEL._ _Traveller._ "HOLLO! WHAT THE DEUCE ARE YOU ABOUT WITH THAT GRIDIRON?" _Chambermaid._ "TO BE SURE, IT'S YER HONOUR'S BED I'M WARMING; AND AIN'T OUR WARMING-PAN ENGAGED FRYING SAUSAGES?"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. IV. _Servant Gal._ "WELL, MAM--HEVERYTHINK CONSIDERED--I'M AFRAID YOU WONT SUIT ME. I'VE ALWAYS BIN BROUGHT UP GENTEEL; AND I COULDN'T GO NOWHERES WHERE THERE AIN'T NO FOOTMAN KEP'."] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. V. _Servant Gal (who has quarrelled with her bread-and-butter)._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MA'AM, I FIND THERE'S COLD MEAT FOR DINNER IN THE KITCHEN, DID YOU EXPECT ME TO EAT IT?" _Lady._ "OF COURSE I EXPECT YOU TO EAT IT, AND AN EXCELLENT DINNER, TOO." _Servant._ "OH, THEN, IF YOU PLEASE'M, I SHOULD LIKE TO LEAVE THIS DAY WEEK." [_Exit idiot._] [Illustration: _AT ASCOT._ THE ONLY "PARTIES" WHO ENJOYED THE WET DAY.] [Illustration: _MAKING THE BEST OF IT._ Enthusiast. "THIS IS REALLY ADMIRABLE!--I GET MY SWIM--AND A SHOWER BATH IN!"] [Illustration: _SMALL BY DEGREES, AND BEAUTIFULLY LESS._ _Shopman._ "OH, I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR--BUT THE LADY LEFT HER PARASOL ON THE COUNTER!" _Swell._ "HAW! YA--AS--NO! THAT IS, IT'S MY UMBRELLAW. THANKS! BY JOVE! HAW!"] [Illustration: _A DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT._] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._--No. II. "MY EYE, TOM, WHAT A 'ORRID BORE IT MUST BE FOR THE HORFICER SWELLS, NOW WE'VE TOOK TO WEARIN' OUR MOOSTARCHERS. THE GALS CAN'T TELL US FROM THEM, NOW!"] [Illustration: _BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK._ THE POPULAR AND AMUSING GAME AS AT PRESENT PLAYED IN THE PRINCIPAL THOROUGHFARES.] [Illustration: _A PLEASING DELUSION._ _Smith._ "HOLLO! POSTER, AIN'T YOU PRECIOUS DRUNK, RATHER?" _Post Boy._ "DRUNK! NOT A BIT OF IT."] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. VI. _Lady._ "WISH TO LEAVE? WHY, I THOUGHT, THOMPSON, YOU WERE VERY COMFORTABLE WITH ME!" _Thompson (who is extremely refined)._ "HOH YES, MAM! I DON'T FIND NO FAULT WITH YOU, MAM--NOR YET WITH MASTER--BUT THE TRUTH HIS, MAM--THE HOTHER SERVANTS IS SO 'ORRID VULGAR, AND HIGNORANT, AND SPEAKS SO HUNGRAMMATICAL, THAT I REELY CANNOT LIVE IN THE SAME 'OUSE WITH 'EM--AND I SHOULD LIKE TO GO THIS DAY MONTH, IF SO BE HAS IT WON'T ILLCONVENIENCE YOU!"] [Illustration: _THE SEA-SIDE HAT._ WHAT IS ENOUGH FOR ONE IS ENOUGH FOR TWO.] [Illustration: _HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A SCOLDING WIFE._ _Patient (inhaling Ether)._ "THIS IS REALLY QUITE DELIGHTFUL--A MOST BEAUTIFUL DREAM."] [Illustration: _A BIT OF HIS MIND._ _Edward (to his Military Cousin)._ "NO! I SHAN'T! I SHAN'T GO AND SHOOT BLACKBIRDS; AND I TELL YOU WHAT, MASTER CHARLEY, YOU DRAGOON SWELLS WON'T HAVE QUITE SUCH A PULL UPON US CIVILIANS NOW, FOR WE ARE ALL GOING TO GROW BEARDS AND MOUSTACHIOS."] [Illustration: _HOW TO GET A CONNECTION._ _Shopman (to Ancient Party)._ "YES, MISS--THANK YOU, MISS--IS THERE ANY OTHER ARTICLE, MISS?--CAN WE SEND IT FOR YOU, MISS?" [_Old Lady thinks it SUCH a nice shop, and SUCH well-behaved young men._] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. VII. _'Ousemaid (from Town)._ "IS HANN JENKINS AT HOME?" _Suburban Cook._ "NO, SHE HAS JUST GONE TO HER MILLINER'S!" _'Ousemaid._ "THEN GIVE HER MY CARD, PLEASE, AND SAY, I 'OPE SHE GOT HOME SAFELY FROM THE BALL."] [Illustration: _AN ALARMING MESSAGE._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, MOTHER'S TOOK THE LOTION, AND RUBBED HER LEG WITH THE MIXTURE!"] [Illustration: _A MISTAKEN IMPRESSION._ _First Young Lady._ "OH, DEAR. HOW DULL THE OLD TOWN IS, NOW ALL THE OFFICERS ARE GONE ABROAD!" _Second ditto (a trifle older)._ "H'M--FOR MY PART, I'M VERY GLAD THEY'RE GONE, FOR THEY WERE ALWAYS FOLLOWING ONE ABOUT!"] [Illustration: _TOUCHING SIMPLICITY._ _Little Wife (eagerly opening the door for dear Edwin)._ "OH, SEE, DEAR, WHAT I HAVE FOR YOU--I'M SURE UNCLE HAS GOT YOU AN APPOINTMENT UNDER GOVERNMENT AT LAST--FOR HERE'S A LETTER MARKED IMMEDIATE, AND '_ON HER MAJESTY'S SERVICE!_'" [_Poor little soul! what does she know about Rates and Taxes?_] [Illustration: _AN AGED JUVENILE._ _Miss Flora Macfungus._ "I DARESAY YOU THINK ME A VERY ODD GIRL; AND, INDEED, MAMMA SAYS I'M A GIDDY, THOUGHTLESS CREATURE, AND"-- _Partner._ "OH, HERE'S A VACANT SEAT, I THINK."] [Illustration: _JUDICIOUS!_ "STAND ON MY HEAD, MARM, FOR A PENNY." "NO, LITTLE BOY--THERE IS A PENNY FOR KEEPING RIGHT END UPWARDS."] [Illustration: _GOOD REASONS._ _Railway Official._ "YOU'D BETTER NOT SMOKE, SIR!" _Traveller._ "THAT'S WHAT MY FRIENDS SAY." _Railway Official._ "BUT YOU _MUSN'T_ SMOKE, SIR!" _Traveller._ "SO MY DOCTOR TELLS ME." _Railway Official (indignantly)._ "BUT YOU _SHAN'T_ SMOKE, SIR!" _Traveller._ "AH! JUST WHAT MY WIFE SAYS."] [Illustration: _POULTRY FANCIES._ NAUGHTY LITTLE BOY A "COCHIN" IT FOR THROWING STONES AT THE FOWLS.] [Illustration: _INDISCRETION._ _Lydia._ "DON'T, HORACE.--LOOK AT OLD TOMKINS SITTING AT HIS WINDOW."] [Illustration: _QUITE A NOVELTY._ _Amiable Experimentalist._ "MAKES A DELICIOUS SIDE-DISH, DOESN'T IT? BUT IT IS NOT THE COMMON MUSHROOM; IT'S A LARGE FUNGUS CALLED THE AGARICUS PROCERUS. IT GROWS SOLITARY IN HEDGE-ROWS, IS CALLED COLUBRINUS, FROM THE SNAKE-LIKE MARKINGS ON ITS STEM. THE PILEUS IS COVERED WITH SCALES, WHICH ARE FORMED BY THE BREAKING-UP OF THE MUD-COLOURED EPIDERMIS. AND---- [_General panic takes place._] [Illustration: _CURIOUS MODE OF CONDUCTING A RETAIL ESTABLISHMENT._] [Illustration: _A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES._ _Old Gentleman._ "WHY, FREDERICK, WHAT A DISGRACEFUL STATE YOU'RE IN, SIR!--WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" _Frederick._ "COULDN'T--GET A SEAT--SO--I'VE BEEN--TO--TH'--CLUB."] [Illustration: _AQUATICS._ _Small Boy._ "NOW, THEN! ALL TOGETHER!"] [Illustration: _OVERTAKEN BY THE TIDE.--MARGATE._] [Illustration: _EFFECTS OF SALT WATER, AS OBSERVED AT THE REGATTA BALL._ _-- Weatherspoon, Esq. (of the Oriana, R.V.S.)._ "I SAY, TOM, WHAT'S THAT LITTLE CRAFT WITH THE BLACK VELVET FLYING AT THE FORE, CLOSE UNDER THE LEE-SCUPPERS OF THE MAN-OF-WAR?" _Honourable Binnacle (of the Matilda, R.V.Y.C.)._ "WHY, FROM HER FORE AND AFT RIG, AND THE CUT OF HER MAINSAIL, I SHOULD SAY SHE'S DOWN FROM THE PORT OF LONDON; BUT I'LL SIGNAL THE COMMODORE TO COME AND INTRODUCE US."] [Illustration: _TERRIBLE ACCIDENT._ "WE KNEW HOW IT WOULD BE--GIRLS HOLDING THOSE GREAT ROUND HATS OVER THEIR EYES, SO THAT THEY CAN'T SEE WHERE THEY ARE GOING.--WHY HERE'S FLORA PLUMLEY RUN RIGHT INTO THE ARMS OF THAT YOUNG HORACE SPANKER, WHO HASN'T A PENNY."_--Extract from our Aunt's Letter._] [Illustration: _OFF THE FORELAND._ _Old Lady (loquitur)._ "NOW, MY GOOD MAN, I HOPE YOU ARE SURE IT WOULD REALLY DO ME GOOD, BECAUSE I CANNOT TOUCH IT BUT AS MEDICINE!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW ARRIVAL._] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. I.--_CROWDED STATE OF LODGING-HOUSES._ _Lodging-house Keeper._ "ON'Y THIS ROOM TO LET, MEM. A FOUR POST--A TENT--AND A VERY COMFORTABLE DOUBLE-BEDDED CHEST OF DRAWERS FOR THE YOUNG GENTLEMEN."] [Illustration: No. II.--_YOUNG ENGLAND._ "DOOCED GRATIFYING, AIN'T IT CHARLES, TO SEE SA MUCH IN-DASTRY?"] [Illustration: No. III.--_PUZZLED VISITORS._ "MON DIEU, ALPHONSE! REGARDEZ-DONC. COMMENT APPELLE-T-ON CETTE MACHINE LÀ?" "TIENS, C'EST DRÔLE--MAIS JE NE SAIS PAS."] [Illustration: No. IV.--_WONDERFUL OBJECTS._ A GENTLEMAN FROM THE COUNTRY MISTAKES THE CRYSTAL SENT BY THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE FOR THE KOH-I-NOOR DIAMOND.] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851 [Illustration: No. V.--_THEATRICAL DEPRESSION._ _Manager._ "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN--A--I MEAN RESPECTED INDIVIDUAL,--IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE GREAT ATTRACTION OF THE EXHIBITION OF CRYSTAL PALACE, I BEG TO ANNOUNCE TO YOU THAT THIS RIDICULOUS FARCE OF OPENING MY THEATRE WILL NOT BE REPEATED; AND YOUR ORDER WILL BE RETURNED TO YOU ON APPLICATION AT THE BOX-OFFICE."] [Illustration: No. VI.--_A STAGGERER FOR AN EXCURSIONIST._ _Foreigner (with profuse gesticulation)._ "PARDON, M'SIEU! FAUT-IL ALLER A DROITE, A GAUCHE, OU EN FACE, POUR ME RENDRE À PEEK-A-PEEK-A-DELEE?" (_Piccadilly._)] [Illustration: No. VII.--_HOTELS ARE QUITE FULL._ _Waterman._ "VAT TIME WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR HOT WATER, SIR?"] [Illustration: No. VIII.--_AWFUL RESULT OF GIVING A SEASON TICKET TO YOUR WIFE._ _Mary._ "PLEASE, SIR, COOK'S GONE OUT FOR A HOLIDAY; AND MISSUS DIDN'T SAY NOTHING ABOUT NO DINNER, SIR. MISSUS WENT EARLY TO THE EXHIBITION WITH SOME LUNCH IN A BASKET, AND SAID SHE SHOULDN'T BE HOME UNTIL TEA TIME."] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. IX.--_THE LOOKING-GLASS DEPARTMENT._] [Illustration: No. X.--_A DELICATE ATTENTION._ AN OLD GENTLEMAN, ANXIOUS THAT HIS WIFE SHOULD POSSESS SOME TRIFLE FROM THE GREAT EXHIBITION, PURCHASES (AMONGST OTHER THINGS) THE STUFFED ELEPHANT, AND THE MODEL OF THE DODO.] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XI.--_NEW FASHIONS._ _Hatter._ "YOU COULDN'T HAVE A MORE BECOMING HAT, SIR--AND THEY'LL BE A GREAT DEAL WORN AT THE OPENING OF THE EXHIBITION."] [Illustration: No. XII.--_SINCERE GRIEF AT THE DESTRUCTION OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE._ _Omnibus Man._ "OH, WHAT A HORRID SHAME TO PULL DOWN SUCH A B-B-B-BE-AUTIFUL B-B-B-UILDING!"] [Illustration: No. XIII.--_THE LADIES AND THE POLICE--THE BATTLE OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE._] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XIV.--_AN INTERESTING COUPLE._ THEY CAN'T THINK WHERE MAMMA CAN HAVE GOT TO--THEY HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR HER EVERYWHERE. [_N.B. The most remote Refreshment-room selected._] [Illustration: No. XV.--_REFRESHMENT ROOM._ _Visitor._ "PINT O' BEER, MISS, PLEASE." _Miss._ "DON'T KEEP IT. YOU CAN HAVE A STRAWBERRY ICE AND A WAFER."] [Illustration: No. XVI.--_THE NORTH-AMERICAN LODGERS IN 1851._] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XVII. _PERFIDIOUS ALBION LETS HIS DRAWING-ROOM FLOOR TO A DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNER.--THE RESULT._] [Illustration: No. XVIII.--_DINING-ROOMS._ _Waiter (to Chinaman)._ "VERY NICE BIRD'S-NEST SOUP, SIR?--YES, SIR!--RAT PIE, SIR, JUST UP--YES, SIR!--AND A NICE LITTLE DOG TO FOLLER--YES, SIR!"] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XIX. HERE YOU HAVE A REPRESENTATION OF THAT NOBLE CHARACTER, THE BRITISH MERCHANT, TAKING LEAVE OF HIS SENSES--AND HIS BUSINESS--TO LOUNGE ABOUT THE CRYSTAL PALACE.] [Illustration: No. XX. THE TRADESMAN AT THE WEST END IS OBLIGED TO GIVE UP HIS TRADE, AND BREED POULTRY.] [Illustration: No. XXI. _BRITANNIA HAS THE INDUSTRY OF ALL-THE-WORLD AND HIS WIFE, TO SPEND A FEW MONTHS WITH HER._] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XXII. _THE CRUSH ROOM AT THE OPERA.--"MR. CHAWBACON'S CART STOPS THE WAY!_"] [Illustration: No. XXIII. _MR. CHAWBACON "COMING DOWN."_] [Illustration: No. XXIV. _FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN HONOURABLY =MENTIONED= BY PRINCE ALBERT!_ "HONOURABLY MENTIONED, INDEED! IS THAT ALL? SCANDALOUS!"] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.--1851. [Illustration: No. XXV. _DINNER-TIME AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE._] MEMORIALS OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION--1851. [Illustration: No. XXV. _THE GREAT DERBY RACE FOR EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-ONE._] [Illustration: _FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _Assiduous Young Curate._ "WELL, THEN, I DO HOPE I SHALL HAVE THE PLEASURE OF SEEING BOTH OF YOU NEXT SUNDAY!" _Miner._ "OI, THEE MAY'ST COAM IF 'E WULL. WE FOIGHT ON THE CROFT, AND OLD JOE TANNER BRINGS TH' BEER."] [Illustration: _WHAT WILL HE DO WITH THEM?_ _Youthful Costermonger._ "NOW THEN, GUV'NER, 'AVE THE LAST ROPE FOR A PENNY!"] [Illustration: _RAILWAY MISERIES._ _Porter._ "IS THIS YOUR LUGGAGE, SIR?" _Piscator._ "CONFOUND IT, NO! WE WANT SOME FISHING-RODS, A CAN OF LIVE-BAIT, AND A HAMPER." _Porter._ "OH--DO YOU, SIR? WHY, THEY'RE GONE ON TO BRISTOL."] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM; OR, WHAT'S TO BECOME OF THE MISSUSES?_--No. VIII. _Cook._ "WELL, TO BE SURE, MUM! LAST PLACE I WERE IN, MISSIS ALWAYS KNOCKED AT THE DOOR AFORE SHE COME INTO MY KITCHEN!!"] [Illustration: _THE ST. BERNARD MASTIFF. A HAPPY DOG--RATHER!_] [Illustration: _PRUDENCE AND IMPRUDENCE._ _Old Gentleman._ "A VERY NASTY JUMP, THAT! I SHALL GO ROUND BY SHUFFLER'S BOTTOM." _Juvenile._ "COME ALONG, OLD MAN! FOLLOW ME, AND I'LL SHOW YOU ALL THE SPORT." [_Exit_ YOUNG HOPEFUL _over the palings_.] [Illustration: _COUNTRY RACES._ GENTLEMEN RIDERS, WHO ARE SO LIKE PROFESSIONAL JOCKS, YOU CAN HARDLY TELL THE DIFFERENCE!] [Illustration: _FRIENDLY, BUT VERY UNPLEASANT._ _Lively Party_ (_charging_ ELDERLY GENTLEMAN _with his umbrella_). "HULLO, JONES!" [_Disgust of_ ELDERLY PARTY, _whose name is_ SMITH.] [Illustration: _AN EASY FORECAST._ _Gipsy._ "HAVE YOUR FORTUNE TOLD, MY PRETTY GENTLEMAN?" _Pretty Gent._ "OH! LAWK! DON'T MENTION IT!"] [Illustration: _GOING OUT ARRESTING._ "VELL, AARON, MY TEAR, 'AVE YER 'AD ANY SPORT?" "PRETTY VELL. I'VE BAGGED FOUR ALLOTTEES AND TWO PROVISIONALS."] [Illustration: _A GREAT MISFORTUNE._ _First Juvenile (in Cab)._ "WELL, CHARLEY, HAVE YOU HAD IT OUT WITH THE OLD BOY?" _Second Juvenile._ "YA--AS; AND--AW--WHAT DO YOU THINK THE UNDUTIFUL OLD GOVERNOR SA--AYS?" _First Juvenile._ "HAVEN'T THE LEAST ID--EAW." _Second Juvenile._ "WHY, HE SA--AYS I MUST DO SOMETHING TO GET MY OWN LIVING!" _First Juvenile._ "OH LAW! WHAT A HORRID BAW!"] [Illustration: _WHERE IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS._ _Engineer._ "DON'T BE ALARMED, MA'AM, IT'S ONLY A DUMPY LEVELLER." _Old Lady._ "LAW! DEAR NOW! WELL, I'M SURE I THOUGHT IT WAS A BLUNDERBUST. BUT DON'T FIRE IT OFF, YOUNG MAN, TILL I'M GOT BY, FOR I WAS ALWAYS TERRIBLE FEARED OF GUNS."] [Illustration: _MARCH OF LUXURY._ _Customer._ "HI! JAMES." _Potboy._ "NOW THEN, WHAT IS IT?" _Customer._ "JUST POP MY ARF-AN-ARF IN THE HICE FOR A MINIT. THAT'S A GOOD LAD."] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTS._ _First Cabby (who is run up against)._ "NOW, THEN! 'VHERE DID YOU PICK UP THAT OLD STRAWBERRY POTTLE YOU CALLS A CAB?" _Second Cabby (who retorts)._ "SAME PLACE WHERE YER FOUND THAT BIT OF OLD RAG YER CALLS A 'ORSE."] [Illustration: _VISIT TO THE ANTEDILUVIAN REPTILES AT SYDENHAM--MASTER TOM STRONGLY OBJECTS TO HAVING HIS MIND IMPROVED._] [Illustration: _A HORRIBLE IDEA._ _First Languid Swell._ "GOOD GWACIOUS, ALFRED! ARE YOU ILL?" _Second ditto, ditto (gasping)._ "ILL! AW! YES! NO! I SHALL BE ALL RIGHT DIRECTLY. BUT--I--CONFESS--THE--SIGHT OF THAT FEMALE'S UMBRELLAW--COMPLETELY--FLAWED ME--MY DEAR CHARLES--CONCEIVE BEING OBLIGED TO CARRY--BUT NO, THE THOUGHT IS--TOO HORRIBLE!" [_They shudder, and walk on._] [Illustration: _FINE BUSINESS, INDEED! THE WRETCH!_ _Master of the House._ "OH! MARY! WHAT IS THERE FOR DINNER TO-DAY?" _Mary._ "I THINK, SIR, IT'S COLD MUTTON, SIR." _Master of the House._ "H'M!--OH! TELL YOUR MISTRESS, WHEN SHE COMES IN, THAT I MAY POSSIBLY BE DETAINED IN THE CITY ON BUSINESS, AND SHE IS ON NO ACCOUNT TO WAIT DINNER FOR ME."] [Illustration: _THE SEA-SIDE HAT--A HINT TO MATERFAMILIAS._] [Illustration: _A FRESH MORNING._] [Illustration: _IMPUDENCE._ _Horse Guard._ "NOW, YOU BOY! YOU MUSN'T HANG ABOUT HERE." _Boy._ "OH! YES, MR. HANGABOUT. I SUPPOSE I MAY SET MY WATCH BY YOUR CLOCK, AS WELL AS ANY OTHER GENT."] [Illustration: _GORGEOUS SPECTACLE._ _Sarah Jane._ "OH, BETSY, COME 'ERE, AND BRING HISABELLER! WE CAN SEE THE 'OOFS OF THE 'ORSES!!"] [Illustration: _NATIVE POLITENESS._ _Boy (to be-witch-ing Old Lady of Fashion)._ "WAS YOU A LOOKING FOR A BROOM, MARM?"] [Illustration: "_YOUTH AT THE PROW, AND PLEASURE AT THE HELM._" "THE HAPPY PAIR THEN STARTED FOR THE CONTINENT, VIA FOLKESTONE, TO SPEND THE HONEYMOON."] [Illustration: _VERY ACCOMMODATING._ _Cabman._ "WANT A CAB, SIR? TAKE YER ANYVERE, ANY DISTANCE, ANY PRICE, AND WHEN YER PLEASE. TROT YER DOWN TO VITECHAPEL OR 'ACKNEY, OR SPIN YER ALONG LIKE ONE O'CLOCK TO HEGHAM, STAINES, OR WINDSOR."] [Illustration: _PROBABLE RESULT OF THE COCHIN CHINA FOWL MANIA._] [Illustration: _TOO POPULAR BY HALF._ _Boy (singing)._ "LOVER-LY LUCY NEAL, OH LOVER-LY LUCY NEAL, HIF I 'AD YOU BY MY SI-I-HIDE, 'OW 'APPY I SHOULD FEEL!"] [Illustration: _TASTE IN THE DRAWING-ROOM.--VILLIKINS AND HIS DINAH._ _Young Lady (who ought to know better)._ "NOW, WILLIAM, YOU ARE NOT LOW ENOUGH YET. BEGIN AGAIN AT 'HE TOOK THE COLD PIZEN.'"] [Illustration: _THE BATTLE OF THE PIANOS._] [Illustration: _FAMILIARITY._ "NOW, THEN, THOMAS, TELL YOUR OLD MAN TO PULL ON A PEG, AND LET ME GET UP TO MY PAWNBROKER'S!"] [Illustration: _APPROPRIATE._ _First Citizen._ "I SAY, BILL--I WONDER WHAT HE CALLS HISSELF?" _Second Ditto._ "BLOWED IF I KNOW!--BUT I CALLS HIM A BLOATED HARISTOCRAT."] [Illustration: _MIGHT VERSUS RIGHT._ _Navigator._ "WHAT'S THAT YOU SAY?" _Policeman._ "WHY, I'LL TAKE YOU TO THE STATION HOUSE, IF YOU DON'T MOVE ON." _Navigator._ "_YOU_ TAKE ME TO THE STATION-HOUSE? TEN ON YOU MIGHT!"] [Illustration: _A HANSOM OFFER._ _Cabman (condescendingly)._ "HAMPSTEAD! LET'S SEE--THE FARE'S ABOUT NINE BOB, AS NEAR AS MAY BE; BUT, AS I WANT A DRIVE IN THE FRESH HAIR MYSELF, SUPPOSE WE SAY THREE 'ARF CROWNS?"] [Illustration: _POULTRY FANCIES.--THE PETS._ _Old Lady._ "WELL, HE _HAS_ GROWN; AND, REALLY, I THINK HE MIGHT LEAVE OFF THOSE FROCKS, AND HAVE A SUIT OF CLOTHES LIKE HIS BROTHERS."] [Illustration: _TRAVELLERS' REQUISITES._ _Railway Porter._ "ANY LUGGAGE, SIR?" _Traveller._ "YAS--CARPET-BAG AND CIGAR-CASE."] [Illustration: _MOST DISTRESSING._ POOR STUBBS!--JUST AS HE MEETS THOSE NICE GIRLS HE ADMIRED SO AT M.'S PARTY, AN ENORMOUS BLACK SETTLES ON HIS NOSE. HE LOSES ALL PRESENCE OF MIND.] [Illustration: _HOW TO FLATTER A GENT._ _Mr. Noses._ "GOT ANY OLD CLOTHES, SIR? (_whispers_) ANY LEFT-OFF UNIFORMS, CAPTAIN?"] [Illustration: _EDUCATIONAL MOVEMENT._ _Man of Refinement._ "NOW DON'T, MY GOOD MAN--PRAY DON'T!--I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO SAY. YOU ARE GOING TO SAY 'YA!--HA!--SPARRERGRASS.' DO ALLOW ME TO PERSUADE YOU TO CALL IT ASPARAGUS--AND HERE IS SIXPENCE FOR YOU."] [Illustration: _AN EXCITED NIMROD_, HAVING BEEN THROWN OUT, IS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HE HAS COME UP WITH SOME OF THE TAIL HOUNDS--"HUIC FOR-R-A-D-E--FOR-R-A-A-D THEN!" [_Great demonstration of disgust on the part of Old Gentleman out shooting_.] [Illustration: _FLY-FISHING._ MR. BUNGLE ALWAYS MAKES HIS FLIES ON THE BANK OF THE STREAM. HERE IS ONE OF HIS MOST SUCCESSFUL EFFORTS.] [Illustration: _"ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE," &c._ _Young Lady (whose birthday it is)._ "OH, YES! I HAVE HAD A GREAT NUMBER OF NICE PRESENTS; BUT I WONDER WHO SENT ME THIS BEAUTIFUL BOUQUET?" _Handsome Party (with moustaches, presence of mind, and great expression of eye)._ "AND CAN'T YOU GUESS?" (_Sighs deeply._) [_N.B. Poor_ BINKS, _who was at all the trouble and expense of getting the said bouquet from Covent Garden, is supposed to be watching the effect of his gift with some anxiety._] [Illustration: _PLEASURES OF HOUSEKEEPING._ THE INTELLIGENT READER IS REQUESTED TO IMAGINE THAT THE GATES IN THE ABOVE CARTOON HAVE JUST BEEN THOROUGHLY CLEANED, AND FRESH PAINTED. ON HIS RETURN FROM THE CITY, MR. BRIGGS FINDS THAT RUDE BOYS (TOTALLY REGARDLESS OF HIS FEELINGS) HAVE BEEN FARTHER DECORATING THEM.] [Illustration: _WHAT'S THE MATTER?_ MAN IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE TAKEN THE WRONG TURNING--THAT'S ALL!] [Illustration: _A ROUGH COUNTRY._ _Boy._ "NOA, SIR! THERE AIN'T NO OTHER GATE OUT O' THIS VIELD, YOU MUST FOLLER THAT GENTLEMAN ON THE GRAY HORSE." _Fox Hunter._ "WHAT, THAT GENT? OH! THANK YER!"] [Illustration: _SUGGESTIVE OF A PICTURESQUE FIGURE._ _Stout Old Gentleman._ "A SHOWER-BATH MAKE YOUR HAIR IN A MESS! NOT A BIT OF IT, IF YOU WEAR AN OIL-SKIN CAP LIKE THIS, AS I DO."] [Illustration: _THE RETURN FROM A MASQUERADE._] [Illustration: _DOUBTFUL._ _Boy._ "COME IN, SIR! YOU'VE NO CALL TO BE AFRAID! I'VE GOT HIM QUITE TIGHT."] [Illustration: _A CAUSE FOR REPROOF._ _Lady (severely)._ "JANET, I MUST DESIRE YOU TO GO AT ONCE AND DRESS YOUR HAIR IN A BECOMING MANNER, AND NOT TO IMITATE ME SO ABSURDLY."] [Illustration: _AWKWARD CONSEQUENCES OF REMOVING THE SOLDIERS FROM KNIGHTSBRIDGE._ _Housemaid._ "IF YOU PLEASE 'M, ME, AND COOK, AND MARY, WISHES TO LEAVE, THIS DAY MONTH, MA'AM."] [Illustration: _REDUCED CIRCUMSTANCES._ _Mary._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, IF YOU'VE DONE WITH THE INK, WILL YOU LET WILLIAM HAVE IT TO CLEAN YOUR BOOTS? BECAUSE IT'S ALL THE BLACKING WE'VE GOT IN THE HOUSE."] [Illustration: _THE CONSTITUTIONAL WALK._ _Lady._ "DEAR, DEAR, IT'S COMING ON TO RAIN! RUN, JAMES! QUICK, AND FETCH AN UMBRELLA, AND TWO PARASOLS. I'M AFRAID MY POOR DEAR COCHINS WILL GET THE RHEUMATISM."] [Illustration: _THE DOCILE HUSBAND._] [Illustration: _A MAN OF OPINION._ _M.P._ "DID YOU SEE THIS ADMIRABLE SUGGESTION IN THE PAPER, TO PULL DOWN THE TEMPLE BAR?" _Swell._ "PULL DOWN THE TEMPLE BAR! A MOST EARNESTLY HOPE NOT--WHY, GOOD GWACIOUS! IT'S THE PWINCIPAL BARWIER BETWEEN US AND THE HORWID CITY!"] [Illustration: _JEALOUSY._ _Chorus (of Nice Young Ladies)._ "OH! OF ALL AND OF ALL I NEVER! ISN'T IT THE DARLINGIST, SWEETEST, PRETTIEST, LITTLE DEAR DARLING DARLING! OH! DID YOU EVER!!" _Solo (by horrid plain-spoken Boy)._ "H'M! I THINK IT'S A NASTY, UGLY LITTLE BEAST, FOR ALL THE WORLD LIKE A CAT OR A MONKEY." [_Sensation._] [Illustration: _A NICE TEAM._] [Illustration: _A BRILLIANT IDEA._ _Matilda._ "OH, LOOK YE HERE, TOMMY! S'POSE WE PLAY AT YOUR BEING THE BIG FOOTMAN, AND ME AND LIZZERBUTH'LL BE THE FINE LADIES IN THE CARRIDGE!"] [Illustration: _AN EXPERIENCED VETERAN._ _Managing Mamma._ "MY GOODNESS, ELLEN, HOW WRETCHEDLY PALE YOU LOOK! FOR GOODNESS' SAKE BITE YOUR LIPS AND RUB YOUR CHEEKS."] [Illustration: _EXTREME DELICACY._ _Exquisite in Cab._ "AW--BE KIND ENOUGH, IF YOU PLEASE, TO FETCH--AW--AN--AW--UMBRELLAW, AND HOLD IT OV-AW ME WHILE I--AW--GET OUT."] [Illustration: _THE WELLINGTON STATUE._ AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN WHILST SHAVING, IN THE EDGEWARE ROAD.] [Illustration: _THE POULTRY MANIA._ _Miss ----._ "GOOD GRACIOUS, EMILY. WHAT HORRID FRIGHTS!" _Emily._ "FRIGHTS? MY DEAR? WHY THEY ARE LOVELY COCHIN CHINA FOWLS, AND WORTH--OH! EVER SO MUCH."] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTARY._ _Bus Driver._ "NOW THEN, OUT OF THE WAY, YOU TWO!"] [Illustration: _AN INQUIRING MIND._ _Omnibus Driver._ "REELY NOW! AND SO THE 'LECTRIC FLUID TAKES A MESSAGE BETWEEN DOVER AND CALAIS. (_Inquiringly._) PRAY, SIR, WOT'S IT LIKE? IS IT ANYTHING LIKE BEER, FOR EXAMPLE?"] [Illustration: _SOMETIMES YOU "PICK UP" HUNTERS FOR NEXT TO NOTHING._ _Dealer._ "THERE NOW! YOU WANT A HUNTER. THERE HE IS. HE'S QUIET, WELL-BRED, AND LAW! WITH YOUR WEIGHT, HE'S UP TO ANY HOUNDS, AND AN _UNCOMMON_ CLEVER FENCER!" _Sporting Gent._ "OH! COME NOW! THAT _WON'T_ DO. I'VE HEARD OF A 'ORSE DANCING; BUT I'M NOT SO JOLLY GREEN AS TO BELIEVE A 'ORSE CAN FENCE, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _A LUCID EXPLANATION._ _Passenger._ "SIXPENCE! WHY, IT'S MARKED UP THREEPENCE!" _Conductor._ "YES, SIR. THREPPUNSE WHEN YOU DON'T GET IN BETWEEN CHARING CROSS AND THE BANK, OR FROM TUESDAYS TO MILE END DOWN TO THE GATE BY UNGERFOD, OR EDGER ROAD TO BLACK LION LANE OR RATHBONE PLACE AND BLACKWALL RAILWAY--OR ELSE YOU MUST GET OUT AT ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, OR YOU CAN GO TO PIMLICO ALL THE WAY IF YOU LIKE--BEYOND THAT DISTANCE--IT'S SIXPUNSE!"] [Illustration: _PERFECT SINCERITY, OR THINKINGS ALOUD._--No. IV. _Genius._ "BY THE WAY, DID YOU GLANCE OVER THAT ARTICLE OF MINE ON 'THE INTELLECT OF WOMAN, AND HER SOCIAL POSITION?' I DON'T CARE TWOPENCE ABOUT YOUR OPINION; ONLY IF YOU CAN SAY SOMETHING FAVOURABLE OF COURSE I SHALL BE PLEASED." _Common Sense._ "WHY, I TRIED IT, BUT UPON MY LIFE I FOUND IT SUCH CONTEMPTIBLE RUBBISH, THAT I COULDN'T GET ON: AND, TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH, I THINK THAT A SNUG LITTLE THING IN THE CHEESEMONGERING LINE WOULD BE MORE IN YOUR WAY THAN LITERATURE." _Genius._ "AH! YOU MUST BE A FOOL!"] [Illustration: _THE AGONY COLUMN._ "I WISH, MISTER, YOU WOULD BE SO GOOD AS TO STOP THE PRESS AND PUT THIS IN A GOOD PLACE (_reads_): '_Hemily, Don't delay, but return to yer broken-arted Adolphus, or there's no knowing what may be the consequence!!!_'"] [Illustration: _THE INFLUENZA._ "THIS IS REALLY VERY KIND OF YOU TO CALL. CAN I OFFER YOU ANYTHING--A BASIN OF GRUEL, OR A GLASS OF COUGH MIXTURE? DON'T SAY NO."] [Illustration: _AN IMPOSSIBILITY._ _Gent._ "WAITER! CHOP AND A PINT OF STOUT; AND LOOK SHARP." _Waiter._ "OH, YES! IT'S ALL VERY WELL TO SAY LOOK SHARP."] [Illustration: _BACHELOR HOUSEKEEPING._ _Mr. Brown._ "PRAY, JANE, WHAT ON EARTH IS THE REASON I AM KEPT WAITING FOR MY BREAKFAST IN THIS WAY?" _Jane._ "PLEASE, SIR, THE ROLLS ISN'T COME, AND THERE'S NO BREAD IN THE HOUSE!" _Mr. Brown._ "NOW, UPON MY WORD! HOW CAN YOU ANNOY ME WITH SUCH TRIFLES? NO _BREAD_, THEN BRING ME SOME _TOAST_." [_Exit_ JANE _in dismay._] [Illustration: _A FOOLISH AND A BETTING MAN._] [Illustration: _A WISER AND A BETTER MAN._] [Illustration: _MISUNDERSTANDING._ _Railway Porter._ "FIRST CLASS, SIR?" _Unfortunate Oxonian._ "NO! PLUCKED!"] [Illustration: _PLEASANT!_ _Affectionate Little Wife (who has made many abortive attempts to fathom the secrets of Freemasonry)._ "WELL, BUT DEAR! TELL ME _ONE_ THING, DO THEY PUT YOU INTO A COFFIN?"] [Illustration: _INSULTING A SCOTCHMAN._ _Boy._ "HERE YOU AIR, SIR! THREE PAIR O' TROWSER STRAPS FOR SIXPENCE."] [Illustration: _THE MAN IN BRASS LAMENTING THE DECLINE OF THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW._] [Illustration: "_BOLTED!_"] [Illustration: _THE BETTING FEVER._] [Illustration: _ONE OF THE EFFECTS OF THE BLACKGUARD BETTING OFFICES._ _Sporting Character._ "I DON'T EXACTLY LIKE ROBBING MASTER, BUT I MUST MEET MY ENGAGEMENTS."] [Illustration: _PEPPERING A GENT._ _Conductor (very loud)._ "GO ON, BILL; HERE'S THAT UGLY OLD COVE, WOT ALWAYS KICKS UP SUCH A ROW, AND MAKES HISSELF SO DISAGREEABLE, JUST GOT IN!" _Driver._ "OH, HAS HE? I'VE A DOOCED GOOD MIND TO PITCH HIM OVER, AND BREAK HIS STUPID OLD 'ED!!"] [Illustration: _GAMMON._ _Ostler._ "PLEASE TO TAKE 'IM GENTLY OVER THE WOOD-PAVEMENT, SIR; FOR HE'S WERRY FRESH THIS MORNING."] [Illustration: _BALLOONING._] [Illustration: _EVIL COMMUNICATIONS._ (AFTER A GREAT DEAL OF COAXING AND PERSUASION, MASTER TOM IS PREVAILED UPON TO PAY HIS QUARTERLY VISIT TO THE DENTIST. INCONSIDERATE AND VULGAR STREET BOYS UNFORTUNATELY PASS AT THE MOMENT HIS OBJECTIONS ARE OVERCOME). _First Inconsiderate Street Boy._ "OH CRIKEY! IF HERE AIN'T A CHAP GOIN' TO HAVE A GRINDER OUT. MY EYE, WHAT FANGS!" _Second Inconsiderate Do. Do._ "OH, I WOULDN'T BE 'IM. WON'T THERE BE A SCR-E-W-A-U-N-CH NEETHER!" [_And of course_ MASTER TOM _relapses into his previous very obstinate state._] [Illustration: _WHO WOULDN'T KEEP A FOOTMAN?_] [Illustration: _DELIGHTFUL OUT-DOOR EXERCISE IN WARM WEATHER._ RUNNING AFTER "ANOTHER FOUR!" AT CRICKET, AMIDST DERISIVE SHOUTS OF "NOW THEN, BUTTERFINGERS!"--"OH! OH!"--"THROW IT IN! LOOK SHARP!"--"QUICK! IN WITH IT!" &C., &C.] [Illustration: _A SMART YOUTH._ _Old Gentleman._ "BLESS MY HEART! THIS VIBRATION OF THE CARRIAGE IS VERY UNUSUAL! PRAY, MY LITTLE MAN, HAVE YOU ANY APPREHENSION OF ACCIDENTS ON RAILWAYS?" _Juvenile._ "OH, NONE IN THE LEAST; AND ESPECIALLY WITH SUCH A FAT OLD BUFFER AS YOU TO BE SHOT AGAINST."] [Illustration: _AN UNREASONABLE COMPLAINT._ _Indignant Party._ "WHAT? A SHILLING FOR THE TWO MILES, AND A SIXPENCE BESIDES! WHY, YOU DON'T CALL ME AN EXTRA PERSON?" _Cabman._ "OH! DON'T I THO!"] [Illustration: _BY THE "SAD SEA WAVES."_ TABLEAU REPRESENTING A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, WHO FANCIES HE IS ALONE, AND TAKES THE OPPORTUNITY OF GOING THROUGH THE LAST SCENE OF "_LUCIA_." _N.B. The Young Gentleman's voice is of the most feeble and uncertain quality._] THE GREAT CHARTIST DEMONSTRATION. [Illustration: No. I.--_A LOYAL CITIZEN._ _Magistrate._ "NOW, SIR, WHAT DO YOU WANT?" _Nervous Gent._ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR; BUT I WISH TO BE SWORN IN AS A CH-CH-CHARTIST--I MEAN AS A SP-SP-SPECIAL C-CONSTABLE!"] [Illustration: NO. II.-_SPECIAL CONSTABLE GOING ON DUTY._ _Time--Two in the Morning._ _Captain of the Beat._ "OH! WE HAVE JUST LOOKED IN TO SAY THAT IT IS YOUR TURN TO GO ON DUTY. THE ROOKERY AT THE BACK OF SLAUGHTER'S ALLEY IS YOUR BEAT, I BELIEVE. YOU WILL LOSE NO TIME, IF YOU PLEASE. FOR ITS A DREADFUL NEIGHBOURHOOD, AND ALL THE POLICE HAVE BEEN WITHDRAWN--INDEED, SEVERAL MOST BRUTAL AND SAVAGE ATTACKS HAVE TAKEN PLACE ALREADY!"] [Illustration: No. III.--_DISTRIBUTION OF THE STAVES._] [Illustration: No. IV.--_PREPARING FOR ACTION._ SPECIAL CONSTABLE DRYING HIS GUNPOWDER IN THE FRYING-PAN.] [Illustration: No. V.--_RELIEF DUTY._ _Special's Wife._ "CONTRARY TO REGULATIONS, INDEED! FIDDLESTICKS! I MUST INSIST, FREDERICK, UPON YOUR TAKING THIS HOT BRANDY-AND-WATER. I SHALL BE HAVING YOU LAID UP NEXT, AND NOT FIT FOR ANYTHING."] THE GREAT CHARTIST DEMONSTRATION. [Illustration: No. VI.--_IN ACTION._ _Special Constable._ "NOW MIND, YOU KNOW--IF I KILL YOU, IT'S NOTHING; BUT IF YOU KILL ME, BY JINGO, IT'S MURDER."] [Illustration: No. VII.--_OUT OF WORK._ _First._ "TALK OF INTERRUPTION TO BUSINESS! VY, I GIVE YER MY VORD OF HONOUR, THAT WOT WITH THEM SPECIALS AND THE REGLAR CRUSHERS, I AIN'T SO MUCH AS PRIGGED A SINGLE HANDKERCHER FOR A VEEK." _Second._ "OH, IT'S ENUFF TO MAKE VUN TURN RESPECTABLE."] [Illustration: No. VIII.--_AN AGREEABLE DUTY._ _Special Constable._ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, YOUNG LADIES, BUT YOURS IS A VERY DANGEROUS PROCESSION, AND WE MUST TAKE YOU IN CHARGE--WE MUST, INDEED."] THE GREAT CHARTIST DEMONSTRATION. [Illustration: No. IX.--_THE BEGINNING AND THE END._ _Leader._ "HOORAY! VEEVE LER LIBERTY!! HARM YOURSELVES!!! TO THE PALIS!! DOWN WITH HEAVERYTHINK!!!!" _Leader._ "OH, SIR--PLEASE SIR--IT AIN'T ME, SIR--I'M FOR 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN' AND 'RULE BRITANNIER.' BOO-HOO--OH DEAR! OH DEAR!!" [_Bursts into tears._] [Illustration: _HEROISM._ JOHN THOMAS, THE BELGRAVIAN FLUNKEY, AS HE APPEARED WHILE THE MOB WERE BREAKING HIS MISSUSSES WINDOWS.] [Illustration: _ADVANTAGES OF THE NEW POSTAL ARRANGEMENTS._] [Illustration: _STUNNING POLITENESS._] [Illustration: _LITERARY CHIT-CHAT._ "IS THIS A LIBERY?" "YES." "THEN LET ME HAVE THE LAST NUMBER OF HEMILY FITZ HOSBORN."] [Illustration: _THE GREAT LINEN-DRAPERY NUISANCE._ _First Linen-draper._ "WHAT'S THE NEXT ARTICLE, SIR?"--_Victim._ "NOTHING MORE, THANK YOU."--_Second Linen-draper._ "WE'VE SOME SWEET THINGS IN SHAWLS, SIR--QUITE NEW."--_Third Linen-draper._ "ALLOW ME, SIR, TO TEMPT YOU WITH ONE OF THESE BEAUTIFUL HANDKERCHIEFS."--_Fourth Linen-draper._ "THESE DRESSES, SIR." &c.--_Fifth Linen-draper._ "HERE ARE LADIES' APRONS, SIR, MOST BEAUTIFULLY WORKED, QUITE ELEGANT, VERY TASTY, AND FASHIONABLE," &c. [VICTIM _resolves never to enter the shop again._] [Illustration: _AN AMBITIOUS YOUTH._ _Old Gentleman._ "NOW, AUGUSTUS; WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE?" _Augustus._ "I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD LIKE--BUT YOU WOULDN'T LET ME." _Old Gent._ "WHAT IS IT--A LAWYER?" _Aug._ "NO: IT AIN'T A LAWYER." _Old Gent._ "A SURGEON?" _Aug._ "NO." _Old Gent._ "A PARSON?" _Aug._ "NO." _Old Gent._ "A SOLDIER?" _Aug._ "NO." _Old Gent._ "WHAT, THEN?" _Aug._ "WHY--A CLOWN AT ASTLEY'S."] [Illustration: _APPEARANCES ARE DECEPTIVE._ _Officer (loq)._ "WELL, MY FINE FELLOW, SO YOU'VE BEEN IN THE REGULAR ARMY?--IN THE WARS, TOO, I SEE--EH?" _Stout Yeoman._ "NOA, COLONEL, I NEVER WASN'T IN NO WARS; BUT MY OLD SOW GAINED A SILVER MEDAL LAST COUNTY AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY, SO I THO'T AS O'W I MIGHT WEAR UN!"] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ MASTER SMITH, AS HE APPEARED TRYING TO FORCE HIS MOUSTACHES FOR THE BROWNS' PARTY.] [Illustration: _THE WEDDING-DAY--FIRST ANNIVERSARY._ PRESENTS--BEAUTIFUL BOUQUET OF FLOWERS FROM COVENT GARDEN, AND SUCH A LOVELY BRACELET!"] [Illustration: _OXFORD COSTUME._ _First Swell._ "AWFUL SHIRT! EH?" _Second ditto._ "YA'AS, LINEN'S SO DEUCED COMMON NOW--I'M GOING TO SPORT EMBROIDERED SILK." _First Ditto._ "HAH! CHEESY IDEA TOO! BUT OUR GILLS WANT ELEVATING!"] [Illustration: _THE WEDDING-DAY--FOURTEENTH ANNIVERSARY._ PRESENTS--BEAUTIFUL BUNDLE OF ASPARAGUS FROM COVENT GARDEN, AND THE NICEST DOUBLE PERAMBULATOR IN THE WORLD!!] [Illustration: _NOT THE FIRST TIME._ "I BEG YOUR PARDON, MA'AM, BUT I THINK YOU DROPPED THIS."] [Illustration: _OUR LAZY CONTRIBUTOR._ "PLEASE, SIR, HERE'S THE PRINTER'S BOY CALLED AGAIN." "OH, BOTHER! SAY I'M BUSY."] [Illustration: _WHICH IS BEST?_ _Matilda._ "I WONDER, MARIA, YOU DON'T PUT AUGUSTUS INTO JACKETS AND TROWSERS; REALLY HE GROWS TOO TALL FOR THAT KIND OF COSTUME." _Maria._ "PERHAPS, MATILDA, YOU WILL BE KIND ENOUGH TO ALLOW ME TO DRESS MY OWN CHILD IN MY OWN WAY. I AM MUCH OBLIGED TO YOU ALL THE SAME. _I_ DON'T LIKE THE PRACTICE _SOME_ PEOPLE HAVE OF DRESSING LITTLE BOYS LIKE LITTLE MEN!!!"] [Illustration: _WHISKERANDOS._ "THERE, MY BOY! IT ISN'T EVERYBODY WHO COULD DO THAT!"] [Illustration: _A DAY'S PLEASURE._ SKETCH OF A "LORD OF THE CREATION" ON HIS RETURN FROM THE DERBY.] [Illustration: _YACHTING._ SPARE BED (BERTH, WE MEAN) ON BOARD OUR FRIEND'S SCHOONER.] [Illustration: _A VERY YOUNG MARINER._] [Illustration: _A YOUNG MARINER._] [Illustration: _AN ANCIENT MARINER._] [Illustration: _A GOOD SIZED FLOAT._ _Little Gent (with undue familiarity)._ "I SAY, MY OLD COCKYWAX,--I S'POSE THE FISH AIN'T VERY LARGE OFF RAMSGIT--ARE THEY?" _Fisherman._ "WELL! I SHOULDN'T SAY AS THEY WAS WERRY SMALL--WHEN WE'RE OBLIGED TO USE SICH FLOATS AS THEM TO OUR FISHIN' TACKLE! MY YOUNG COCKYWAX!" (_Gent is shut up._)] [Illustration: _A SPORTING GENT PRACTISING FOR THE HUNTING SEASON._] [Illustration: _A CURIOUS PERSON._] [Illustration: _MICHAELMAS DAY. THE CHEAP TAILOR'S GOOSE PROVIDES HIMSELF WITH A SHOOTING JACKET AND VEST._] [Illustration: _"MUSIC HATH CHARMS," &C._] [Illustration: _THE STAG AT BAY._] [Illustration: _CLOSE OF THE SEASON--THE LONDON FOOTMAN EXHAUSTED._] [Illustration: _BEGINNING FIRES FOR THE WINTER--SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE CHIMNEY._ _Sweep (loq.)._ "THIS CHIMLE ALWAYS WAS A BAD UN TO SMOKE, SIR; THE PARTY AS LIVED HERE BEFORE YOU CAME HAD A DEAL OF TROUBLE WITH IT."] [Illustration: _AN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE ON AN EXCURSION._] [Illustration: _AMUSEMENT FOR A RAINY DAY._ _Clara._ "I SAY, GUS--COME HERE! STAND STILL AND OPEN YOUR MOUTH, AND WE'LL DROP CHOCOLATE INTO IT. WE'VE NOTHING TO DO!" _GUS._ "ALL RIGHT, GIRLS! FIRE AWAY!" [_After an hour of this interesting occupation, Gus retires slightly uncomfortable._] [Illustration: _POTICHOMANIA (THE ART OF DECORATING GLASS)_, AS CARRIED OUT BY MASTER TOM DURING THE EASTER HOLIDAYS.] INDEX. PORTRAIT OF JOHN LEECH, _Frontispiece._ YEAR PAGE ADVANTAGES of the new Postal arrangements 1845 272 Advice Gratis 1852 62 Affair of Importance, An 1852 12 After the Pantomime 1853 70 Aged Juvenile, An 1846 223 Aggravating--Rather 1850 151 Agony Column 1849 262 Agricultural Distress 1851 129 Agricultural Distress Dodge, The 1851 185 Alarming 1850 50 Alarming 1852 78 Alarming Effect produced by imprudently trying the Hat and Table-moving Experiment 1853 164 Alarming Intelligence 1852 30 Alarming Message, An 1842 222 Alarming Occurrence 1850 11 Alarming Symptoms 1846 10 Alderman's Advice to his Son, The 1851 37 All is fair in Love, &c 1855 255 All is Vanity 1852 176 Ambitious Youth, An 1848 273 Amusement for a Rainy Day 1863 280 An Exclusive 1852 112 An Impossibility 1846 263 Analogy 1850 113 Ancient Impostor, An 1852 170 Ancient Mariner, An 1852 277 And here are the Girls in the Round Hats 1855 169 Anglers hear Strange Things 1845 36 Angling in the Serpentine 1851 102 Another Bit from the Mining Districts 1854 121 Another Bit of Serious Pantomime 1852 168 Another Innocent and Amusing, &c 1848 48 Anxious Moment, An 1853 204 Appearances are Deceptive 1850 274 Appropriate 1855 251 Aquatics 1855 169, 216, 226 Arithmetic at the University 1851 134 Artful Excuse, An 1847 94 Ascot, At 1852 218 Association for the Advancement of Science on an Excursion, An 1846 279 Awful Appearance of a "Wopps" 1849 213 Awful Instance of Perception, &c. 1849 55 Awful Occurrence at an Evening Party 1851 38 Awful Position during a Storm 1846 77 Awful Scene on the Chain Pier, Brighton 1846 50 Awkward 1855 49 Awkward Consequence of removing the Soldiers from Knightsbridge 1851 257 BACHELOR Housekeeping 1852 263 Back View, A 1854 211 Ballooning 1850 266 Bands of Hope, The 1852 56 Barrack Life 1851 58 Bath at Boulogne, A 1853 165 Battle of the Pianos, The 1855 250 Battledore and Shuttlecock 1854 220 Beard and Moustache Movement, The 1853 140 Beard Movement, The 1854 49 Beginning Fires for the Winter--something wrong with the Chimney 1846 279 Best of Both Worlds 1848 84 Best Preventive against Sea-sickness: I., II., III. 1855 163 Betting Fever, The 1852 265 Birthday, The 1853 88 Bit from the Mining Districts 1854 121 Bit of his Mind, A 1853 222 Bit of Serious Pantomime, A 1855 168 Bitter Sarcasm 1850 27 Bless the Boy! 1850 15 Boat for an Hour, A 1846 151 "Bolted!" 1852 265 Bon-bon from a Juvenile Party, A 1851 17, 90 Bottom-Fishing 1855 118 Bribery is detestable, but Politeness costs Nothing 1847 183 Brilliant Idea, A 1854 259 British Ruffian, A 1852 132 Briton Abroad, The 1853 124 Brook Green Volunteer, The 1846 155, 157, 159, 173, 174, 175, 177 Brutal Fellow, A 1853 46 By the "Sad Sea Waves" 1854 268 CANDID 1848 127 Capital Offer, A 1854 208 Caught 1847 98 Cause for Reproof, A 1847 257 Caution to a Little Boy at a Festive Season, A 1853 119 Changing the Subject 1848 122 Châtelaine, The 1849 64 Cheap Day's Hunting, A 1849 184-5 Church and State 1851 57 Close of the Season--The London Footman exhausted 1846 279 Cold Comfort 1849 139 Coming to the Point 1848 19 Coming Home 1853 86 Comparative Love 1851 174 Complimentary 1850 65 Complimentary 1855 261 Compliments 1854 246 Confound the Shops 1852 54 Conscientious Stable Keeper, The 1853 68 Consols at 90, Consols at 80 1848 167 Consolation 1845 118 Constitutional Walk, The 1853 258 Cool Assurance 1854 205 Correct Mode of Riding in Rotten Row 1851 7 Country Ball, A 1851 128 Country Races 1854 243 Court Dress, A 1848 5 Cruel 1851 6 Cruel 1853 110 Curious Mode of Conducting a Retail Establishment 1855 225 Curious Person, A 1852 278 Cut Him down Behind 1852 53 DAY'S Pleasure, A 1851 276 Dear Delights of Britain's Summer Fields, The 1852 173 "De Gustibus," &c., &c. 1846 16 De Gustibus 1851 127 Delicate 1852 54 Delicacy of the Season 1852 56 Delicious Morsel, A 1846 25 Delicious Sail off Dover, A 1854 87 Delights of Travel 1846 162 Delightful Outdoor Exercise 1854 267 Delusion, A 1855 207 Derby Epidemic 1846 14 Did you Ever? 1851 4 Difference of View 1847 176 Different Opinions 1851 69 Different People have Different Opinions 1852 26 Discernment 1853 48 Distraction 1847 86 Distressing Result of Emigration 1851 146 Distwessing--Vewy 1853 66 Division of Labour 1853 89 Docile Husband, The 1847 258 Dog Days 1853 77 Doing a Little Bill 1846 20 Doing it Thoroughly 1855 153 Domestic Bliss 1847 36, 147 Domestic Bliss 1848 24 Domestic Event in the Zoological Gardens 1850 166-7 Domestic Sanitary Regulations 1850 125 Doubtful 1850 257 Drawing-room Entertainment, A 1853 219 Dreadful Crisis 1848 105 Dreadful Destitution 1848 209 Dreadful Shock to the Nerves, A 1846 52 Dumb Waiter, A 1849 33 During the Frost a certain Foxhunter increases in weight, and gets too big for his clothes 1854 138 EARLY Education 1852 183 Easily Pleased 1852 56 Easily Satisfied 1852 52 Easy Shaving 1852 134 Easy Forecast, An 1853 244 Educational Movement 1848 253 Effects of Salt Water, as observed at the Regatta Ball 1852 227 Elegant and Rational Costume for Close Weather 1850 135 Elegant Habit 1853 112 Encouraging 1852 4 End of a Five Minutes' Burst, The 1847 178 Energetic 1850 99 Enter Mr. Bottles the Butler 1854 47 Enthusiastic Fisherman, An 1849 127 Evening Parties 1849 25 Evil Communications 1854 267 Every Little Helps 1850 108 Excellent Wine, An 1846 35 Excessively Polite 1851 68 Excited Nimrod, An 1853 254 Experienced Veteran, An 1854 259 Extreme Delicacy 1848 260 Extremes Meet 1845 214 Eye to Business, An 1845 75 FACT, A 1854 128 False Position, A 1853 85 Familiarity 1846 251 Fancy Dress Ball 1846 62 Fancy Portrait 1852 11 Fashionable Intelligence 1845 6 Fashionable Intelligence 1845 151 Fashions, The 1850 24 Fashions for Fast Men 1847 205 Fashions in Pins, A 1845 32 Faulty Mirror, A 1850 116 Filling up the Census Paper 1851 131 Fine Business, indeed, the Wretch! 1855 247 Fine Disposition, A 1848 63 Fish Dinner, The 1846 14 Fishing off a Watering Place 1852 83 Fishing off Brighton 1846 151 Fishing with Flies 1851 141 Flowers of the French Army 1851 76 Fly-Fishing 1853 156, 254 Folkestone, Arrival of the Boat 1852 203 Foolish and a Betting Man, A 1852 263 Foreigner of Distinction 1852 70 Fox steals away from Cover 1851 106 Fragment, A 1847 84 Fresh Morning 1854 247 Friendly but very Unpleasant 1855 244 Frightful! 1855 206 Frightful upset of Dignity 1852 148 From a Beautiful Miniature 1843 34 From the Mining Districts 1855 241 GALLANTRY 1851 32 Gammon 1847 266 Garret and the Conservatory, The 1852 124 Gay Young Fellow, A 1851 16 Genteel Practice 1846 26 Gentle Craft, The 1853 104 Glorious News 1846 74 Going out Arresting 1846 244 Going out to an "At Home" 1852 130 Going to Cover 1852 72 Gold Fish at Hampton Court, The 1846 65 Good Little Boy, The 1850 26 Good Reasons 1852 224 Good-sized Float, A 1852 277 Gorgeous Spectacle 1854 248 Grandmamma is supposed, &c 1851 115 Grand Show of Prize Vegetarians 1852 117 Great Bargain, A 1854 171 Great Chartist Demonstration, The 1848 269, 270, 271, 272 Great Exhibition, Memorials of the 1851 228-240 Great Linen-drapery Nuisance, The 1847 273 Great Loss, A 1852 52 Great Mental Effort, A 1853 85 Great Misfortune, A 1847 245 Great Want of Veneration 1844 22 Greenwich Dinner, The 1853 9 Greenwich Fair, At 1846 182 Gross Insult 1852 126 Gross Offence, A 1848 97 Groundless Alarm 1850 156 Grouse Shooting late in the Season--Jolly, Very 1854 179 HACK for the Day, A 1853 8 Hall along of them Betting Offices 1852 46 Hansom Offer, A 1852 252 Hard Rider, A 1854 89 Hat Moving Experiment, The 1853 172 Heart-Breaking 1854 215 Heavy Blow, A 1852 136 Heroism 1855 272 Highland Game in a London Street, A 1849 14 Highly Interesting 1852 76 Home for the Holidays 1848 22 Honeymoon, The 1850 79 Hooking and Eyeing 1851 16 Horrible Business, A 1851 142 Horrible Idea, A 1855 247 Horrible Incident in Real Life 1852 116 Housemaids Refusing Service 1852 114 How do you like it? 1850 135 How Kind 1854 203 How to Dress a Lobster 1851 62 How to Escape from a Scolding Wife 1847 221 How to get a Connection 1854 222 How to Get Rid of a Gratis Patient 1846 14 How to Flatter a Gent 1854 253 How to make a Châtelaine, &c 1849 90 How to make Culprits Comfortable 1849 137 How No 4 Enjoyed Himself, and How No 8 Suffered in Consequence 1850 142 How to Suit the Taste 1846 12 How to Take Care of the Children 1852 177 Humorous Customer, A 1853 181 Hunting Memorandum 1853 100 IMPENDING Disaster, An 1847 82 Improvement in Irish Affairs 1854 217 Impudence 1848 248 Impudent Minx, An 1852 64 In a very Bad Way 1853 205 In Camp, Hospitality 1853 85 In for It 1844 7 Indiscretion 1855 224 Influenza, The 1847 262 Information 1846 126 Ingenious Fellow, An 1851 95 Ingenious Idea 1853 67 Innocence 1847 24 Innocent and Amusing Little Trick 1848 48 Inquiring Mind, An 1847 261 Insulting a Scotchman 1854 264 Interesting 1852 148 Interesting Scene During the Canvas 1852 20 Interesting Story, The 1850 31 Irish Hotel, An 1846 217 Is it So? 1849 150 JACK Tar, A 1850 37 Jealousy 1850 16 Jealousy 1854 259 John Thomas Misplaced 1848 114 Jolly Dog, A 1850 64 Joys of Ocean, The 1848 6 Judicious 1856 223 Just Like Him 1851 154 Just the Man 1852 30 KNOWLEDGE is Power 1853 90 LADIES of the Creation 1851 186 -199 La Mode 1852 32 Late Arrival, A 1851 3 Large Bump of Caution, A 1855 215 Laying the Dust 1850 66 Left-handed Compliment, A 1853 45 Literal 1854 46 Literary Chit-chat 1842 273 Little Bit of Humbug, A 1851 57 Little Surprise, A 1847 19 Little Women 1849 96 London Gent Abroad, A 1851 12 Long Vacation 1847 161 Long Vacation in Arcadia, The 1844 148 Look before you Leap 1848 202 Lost One, The 1849 34 Love on the Ocean 1845 73 Lucid Explanation, A 1849 262 Lumping Penn'orth, A 1845 50 MAKING the Best of it 1845 115 Making the Best of it 1856 218 Making the Most of it 1845 12 Mal Apropos 1849 28 Man about Town, A 1846 60 Man in Brass lamenting the Decline of the Lord Mayor's Show, The 1850 264 Man of Feeling, A 1848 84 Man of Opinion, A 1852 258 Manly Sorrow 1850 182 Manners make the Man 1852 100 March of Luxury 1846 245 Master of the Situation 1848 158 Maternal Solicitude 1849 10 May Day 1852 183 May Difference of Opinion, &c. 1846 38 Meeting him Halfway 1848 123 Melancholy Reverse of Fortune 1846 127 Melancholy Scene at the Opera on a crowded Night 1847 182 Men of Business 1849 36 Men of Experience 1846 108 Men of the World 1852 123 Mermaids at Play 1848 18 Michaelmas Day. The cheap Tailor 1847 278 Might is Right 1853 160 Might _versus_ Right 1846 251 Misplaced Confidence 1849 207 Mistaken Impression, A 1855 223 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Housekeeping 1849 21, 23, 25, 27, 29, 31, 33 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Horsekeeping 1849-50 35, 37, 39, 40, 53, 55, 57, 59, 171 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Hunting 1849-51 61, 63, 65, 67, 69, 71, 73, 75, 77, 79, 80, 93, 95 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Fishing 1850-51 97, 99, 101, 103, 105, 107 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Shooting 1850 51, 109, 111, 113, 115, 117, 119, 139, 141 Mr. Briggs's Pleasures of Racing 1851 143, 144, 145 Misunderstanding 1853 264 More Free than Welcome 1849 82 Morning after The Derby, The 1853 60 Most Alarming Swelling, A 1850 126 Most Distressing 1855 253 Moustache Movement 1854 210, 220, 274 Mr. 'Arry Belville on the Continent Generally 1853 201 Mr. Punch's Fancy Ball 1847 41-44 Mr. Verdant's First Attempt at Book-making 1853 60 Much too Clever 1850 100 Much too Considerate 1850 32 Murder will out 1852 20 "Music hath Charms," &c. 1854 278 Mysterious Visitor, A 1854 162 NATIVE Politeness 1855 248 Never Satisfied 1848 39 New Act, The 1853 47 New Arrival, The 1849 227 New Bonnet, The 1853 85 New Cricketing Dresses to Protect all England against the present swift bowling 1854 168 New Groom, The 1851 170 New Hunter, The 1848 70 New Purchase, The 1855 152 Nice Game at Billiards, A 1853 91 Nice Team, A 1852 259 No Doubt 1849 67 No News is Good News 1850 93 No Place like Home 1853 104 North East Wind 1851 58 Not a difficult Thing to Foretell 1851 75 Not the First Time 1855 275 Not to be played with 1848 58 Not very likely 1850 108 Not what he wanted 1851 153 Not yet 1851 76 Nothing like knowing the Country 1854 204 Nothing like Prudence 1849 114 Nothing like System 1847 214 Nothing like Warm Bathing 1846 28 OCEAN Swell, An 1848 111 Of Course 1851 46 Off the Foreland 1846 227 Oh! 1854 212 Oh, the Curtains! 1853 86 Old Gentleman is in a hurry to get to the Station 1853 141 Omnibus Incident, An 1846 112 One of the Effects of the Blackguard Betting Offices 1852 265 Only a Penny! 1851 158 On the Moors 1854 202 Ornament to Society, An 1852 160 Opera, The 1846 181 Opera, The 1851 132 Our Boys 1853 210 Our English Climate 1847 143 Our Foreign Visitors 1851 131 Our Friend Belville airs his French at Boulogne 1854 201 Our Lazy Contributor 1846 276 Our National Defences 1848 26 Our "Used-up" Man takes a Walk with his Cousins 1850 213 Our Young People 1847 96 Out of Town 1849 165 Overtaken by the Tide, Margate 1848 226 Oxford Costume 1853 275 Oysters in June--Delicious! 1852 136 PATERFAMILIAS makes himself independent of Hotels 1854 123 Peppering a Gent 1849 266 Perfect Sincerity; or, Thinkings Aloud 1849 180, 181, 262 Perils of a Court Presentation, The 1855 206 Personal Opinion, A 1846 96 Philosopher, A 1852 10 Pic-nic, The 1851 106 Picture, A 1853 51 Pike is a voracious Fish, The 1852 90 Pity is Akin to Love 1846 112 Pity the Sorrows of the Poor Police 1852 13 Plain Speaking 1848 61 Playful Creature, A 1853 59 Pleasing Delusion, A 1846 220 Pleasant 1852 92, 120 Pleasant 1855 264 Pleasant State of Things, A 1846 40 Pleasant Street Game 1850 20 Pleasures of Housekeeping 1849 255 Pleasures of the Studio 1852 174 Pledge of Affection, A 1847 209 Poor Tommy 1852 54 Pop! 1844 34 Portrait of a Lady 1852 154 Potichomania 1855 280 Poultry Fancies 1853 224 Poultry Fancies--the Pets 1853 252 Poultry Mania, The 1853 260 Preparing for the Derby 1852 176 Pride 1845 150 Private and Confidential 1852 214 Private Opinion, A 1846 119 Private Theatricals 1854 81 Probable Effect of Cheap Furniture 1846 64 Probable Result of the Cochin China Fowl Mania 1853 249 Prodigious! 1847 15 Prodigious Nuisance, A 1852 136 Professional Man, A 1850 17 Professor Buckwheat Impressing, &c. 1845 130 Progress of Slang, The 1847 38 Proper Pride 1849 30 Propriety 1848 5 Prudence and Imprudence 1847 243 Prudent Resolve, A 1853 98 Punctuality is the Soul of Business 1845 214 Putting his Foot in it 1852 18 Puzzling Order, A 1846 92 QUIET Weed, A 1852 15 Quite a Novelty 1854 225 Quite Unnecessary 1848 108 RAILWAY Literature 1852 45 Railway Miseries 1845 241 Rather a Bad Look-out 1849 52 Rather a Drop 1855 184 Rather Awkward for Tomkins 1855 129 Rather Severe 1852 116 Rather Suspicious 1850 50 Real Difficulty, A 1848 120 Real Enjoyment 1849 34 Real Flower Show, The 1855 190 Reduced Circumstances 1846 257 Reflection, A 1849 170 Regular Customer, A 1852 30 Religion à la Mode 1850 74 Remonstrance 1853 185 Removing 1847 178-9 Return from a Masquerade 1844 256 Returning from the Seaside 1846 101 Reward of Merit 1851 110 Rising Generation, The 1846 109 Rising Generation, The 1847 35, 73 Rising Generation, The 1851 66 Road-side on the Derby Day, The 1850 146 Romance and Reality 1852 13 Romance of Roast Ducks, A 1848 78 Room for Improvement 1850 134 Rough Country, A 1847 256 Round Hat, The, Laden with Novels in a Storm 1854 87 Ruling Passion, The 1846 28 SAILORS on Shore Carousing 1850 137 St. Bernard Mastiff, The 1853 242 Savage Reproof, A 1854 149 Scene.--Bureau of the Chiefs of the Douanes 1853 201 Scene on the English Coast 1855 208 Scene--Westminster Bridge 1853 69 Sea-side Hat, The 1854 221, 247 Sea-side Literature for Young Ladies 1849 147 Sea-side. Saturday Evening 1848 216 Sea-side. The Bathing Hour 1855 152 Seasonable Question 1850 132 Self-Esteem 1848 126 Sell, A 1851 150 Servantgalism 1853 212, 217, 218, 221, 222, 242 Shakespeare a little altered 1845 172 Silver Age, The 1853 162 Sketch at Ramsgate, A 1852 51 Sketch from Nature, A 1845 66 Sketch near Burton Crescent 1847 38 Sketch of Character by, &c. 1850 95 Small by Degrees and beautifully Less 1855 219 Smart Youth, A 1847 267 Snow-Flakes 1853 88 Snuffed out 1851 3 Social Struggles 1852 212 So fond of it 1851 175 Solicitude 1849 48 Something like a Brother 1852 33 Something like a Holiday 1845 22 Sometimes you "pick up" Hunters for next to nothing 1847 261 Son and Heir 1853 72 Sound Advice 1852 76 Speak as you Think 1849 142 Speculators 1846 17 Spelling a Newspaper 1842 180 Splendid Day with the "Queen's" 1848 105 Sporting Character, A 1847 131 Sporting Extraordinary 1852 8 Sporting Gent practising for the Season 1847 278 Sporting Intelligence 1852 102 Stag at Bay, The 1845 278 Startling Effect of the "Gold Diggings" 1852 134 Startling Request, A 1846 53 Starved-out Alderman, The 1845 111 Steeple-Chase, The 1853 200 Strange, but True 1850 74 Street Dialogue 1843 98 Strong Assertion 1853 9 Study of an Elderly Female, &c. 1853 180 Stunning Politeness 1856 273 Subject for a Picture 1851 45 Suburban Felicity, Gratifying Domestic (Poultry) Incident 1854 138 Suggestion, A 1848 93 Suggestive of a Picturesque Figure 1849 256 Summer in Elysium 1852 148 Symptoms of Wet Weather 1846 13 TAKING Change 1850 31 Taking it Coolly 1852 4 Taste 1853 60 Taste in the Drawing-room, Villikins and his Dinah 1854 250 Tempus Edax Rerum 1852 78 Terrible Accident 1855 227 Terrible Domestic Incident 1849 130 Test of Gallantry, The 1845 4 Test of Strength, A 1854 135 Thames Fishing 1851 71 That is the Question 1852 133 Thorough Good Cook, A 1855 125 Those Shocking Clubs 1855 205 Tight Fit, A 1846 92 Too Civil by Half 1852 70 Too Faithful Portrait, The 1850 209 Too Popular by Half 1847 250 Topsy Turveydom 1850 158 Touching Simplicity 1856 223 Town and Country 1852 81 Travellers' Requisites 1854 253 Trial-for-Murder Mania, The 1849 161 Troops and the Weather, The 1845 29 True Politeness 1851 140 True Respectability 1850 131 Truth is Great 1854 207 Turfites 1853 132 UNDENIABLE 1845 185 Undesigned Incident, An 1853 103 Unfeeling Observation 1847 7 Unlucky 1847 24 Unreasonable Complaint, An 1853 268 Unseasonable Sport 1852 133 Up to Weight 1854 121 Used up 1851 98 Useful if not Ornamental 1855 211 Useless Information 1851 172 VALUABLE Animal, A 1852 6 Valuable Hint 1849 94 Very Accommodating 1853 249 Very Acute 1852 74 Very Considerate 1852 122 Very Fine Fruit 1848 10 Very Fine Gentlemen 1848 91 Very Fine Talking 1846 11 Very Great Man, A 1854 216 Very Kind 1854 164 Very Low People 1852 54 Very Old Soldier, A 1846 39 Very Particular 1855 210 Very Proper Diet for Hot Weather 1852 62 Very Vulgar Subject, A 1853 86 Very Young Mariner, A 1854 277 Victim of Circumstances, A 1847 225 Victim of Pleasure, A 1854 215 Visit to the Antediluvian Reptiles at Sydenham, A 1854 246 WAITING for a Dip 1847 154 Waltonians 1852 83 We All have our Troubles 1852 28 Wedding Day, The 1855 275 Weighty Matter, A 1851 91 Wellington Statue, The 1846 260 What a Dreadful Story! 1854 149 What is This? 1849 36 What they said to Themselves 1852 5 What will He do with Them? 1855 241 What's the Matter? 1849 255 When it is Delightful to Lose a Bet 1853 110 Where Ignorance is not Bliss 1848 245 Which is Best? 1849 276 Whiskerandos 1854 276 Who wouldn't keep a Footman? 1850 267 Wholesome Prejudice 1850 176 Why, Indeed? 1855 122 Wiser and a Better Man, A 1852 263 Wounded Pride 1850 156 YACHTING 1854 276 Young Affection 1844 162 Young Gentleman and Scholar, A 1846 133 Young Mariner, A 1852 277 Young Patrician, A 1853 177 Young Philosopher, A 1847 215 Youth at the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm 1854 248 [Illustration: END OF VOL. I.] LONDON: BRADBURY. AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. [Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.] 
50428	----	Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with underscores: _italics_ and, in bold typeface, thus: =bold=. JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER [Illustration] From the Collection of "MR. PUNCH." LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE STREET, E.C. 1887. LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES [Illustration] OF LIFE AND CHARACTER. [Illustration: _CAUTION DURING THE MISTLETOE SEASON._ _Pretty Cousin._ "WHAT A TIRESOME GREAT AWKWARD BOY YOU ARE!--JUST SEE HOW YOU HAVE SCRATCHED MY CHIN!" [_Young Gentleman apologises amply._ [ [Illustration: _NONE BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE FAIR._ _Augustus._ "NOW, I'VE GOT YOU!"] [Illustration: _OBVIOUS._ _Old Party from the Country_ (_with much wheezing and embarrassment_). "I--I--WANT TO GO TO--TO--TO----" _Conductor_ (_with alacrity_). "ALL RIGHT, OLD BOY! JUMP IN! I KNOW--_CATTLE SHOW_!"] [Illustration: _A PIG PEN AT A CATTLE SHOW._ _Harriet._ "THEN, I SUPPOSE, PAPA DEAR, THAT THESE ARE =LEARNED= PIGS, AS THEY HAVE ALL GOT GOLD MEDALS?"] [Illustration: _A PLEASANT HOLIDAY TASK._ _Mr. Punch._ "NOW, BOYS AND GIRLS! YOU MUST FIND OUT THE USE OF THESE GLOBES BEFORE YOU GO BACK TO SCHOOL!"] [Illustration: _COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON._ _Reynard the Fox._ "HERE'S AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS, MY BOYS, FOR YOU, AND MANY OF 'EM."] [Illustration: _THE SNOW._ "NOW, YOU BOYS HAD BETTER BE QUIET, OR I SHALL CALL THE POLICE, AS SURE AS YOU'RE BORN."] [Illustration: _JUVENILE ETYMOLOGY._ _Master Jack._ "MAMMA, DEAR! NOW ISN'T THIS CALLED KISSMAS TIME, BECAUSE EVERYBODY KISSES EVERYBODY UNDER THE MISTLETOE? ADA SAYS IT ISN'T."] [Illustration: _MISS AND MISTLETOE._ _Miss Gushington._ "OH, DON'T YOU LIKE CHRISTMAS TIME, MR. BROWN, AND ALL ITS DEAR OLD CUSTOMS?" [BROWN _don't seem to see it._ ] [Illustration: _CHRISTMAS EVE._ _Ellen_ (_who is so simple_). "NOW, PRAY TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, FRANK! WHAT IS IT THESE DREADFUL GAROTTERS CALL 'GIVING ONE THE HUG?'" [FRANK _shows her presently_. ] [Illustration: _UNDER THE MISTLETOE._] [Illustration: _A FAMILY GROUP--BABY STIRRING THE PUDDING._] [Illustration: _"A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!" A JUVENILE PARTY._] [Illustration: _GOOD CHEER._ RICH OLD LADY IS OVERWHELMED WITH BARRELLED OYSTERS FROM DISTANT RELATIVES.] [Illustration: _ROOTI-TOOIT--I'VE GOT CHER!_] [Illustration: _A JOLLY OLD PATERFAMILIAS, WITH SOME AIR-BALLOONS FOR THE CHICKS._] [Illustration: _A CHRISTMAS PARTY.--GRANDPAPA DANCES "SIR ROGER"--AND MAY HE DANCE IT FOR MANY, MANY YEARS TO COME._] [Illustration: _VOLUNTEER MOVEMENT._ THAT DISTINGUISHED RIFLE-SHOT, MR. PUNCH, HAVING DONE HIS DUTY LIKE A MAN, THROWS HIMSELF UNDER THE MISTLETOE, AND RECEIVES HIS JUST REWARD.] [Illustration: _BROWN ENTERTAINS HIS FRIENDS WI' A HAGGIS!_] [Illustration: _A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!_] [Illustration: _OF A VERY STUDIOUS TURN._ _Mamma._ "WHO IS THIS HAMPER FOR?--WHY, FOR POOR JERRY, WHO IS AT SCHOOL, YOU KNOW." _Darling_ (_reflectively_). "OH!--DON'T YOU THINK, MA, I HAD BETTER GO TO SCHOOL?"] [Illustration: _WHOLESOME FEAST._ _Jessie._ "AND SO, WALTER, YOU HAVE LITTLE PARTIES AT YOUR SCHOOL, EH?" _Walter._ "AH! DON'T WE, JUST!--LAST HALF THERE WAS CHARLEY BOGLE, AND GEORGE TWISTER AND ME--WE JOINED YOU KNOW--AND HAD TWO POUNDS OF SAUSAGES, COLD, AND A PLUM CAKE, AND A BARREL OF OYSTERS, AND TWO BOTTLES OF CURRANT WINE!--OH, MY EYE! WASN'T IT JOLLY, NEITHER!"] [Illustration: _QUITE A NICE PARTY._ _Georgina._ "WELL, GUS! AND HOW DID YOU LIKE YOUR PARTY LAST NIGHT?" _Gus._ "OH, JOLLY--I GOT ELEVEN ICES, AND NO END OF NEGUS, AND WENT DOWN FOUR TIMES TO SUPPER!!"] [Illustration: _LITTLE MEN._ "BEEN TO THE PLAY MUCH THESE HOLIDAYS, FRED?" "AW--I WENT THE OTHER NIGHT. BUT, AW--I DON'T KNOW--SOMEHOW, PANTOMIMES ARE NOT WHAT THEY USED TO BE IN MY TIME; AND AS FOR THE GURLS, THERE WASN'T A GOOD-LOOKING ONE IN THE HOUSE."] [Illustration: _HOME ENJOYMENTS._ A DISCREET (!) FRIEND HAVING PRESENTED MASTER TOM WITH A TOOL-BOX AS A NEW YEAR'S GIFT--THE FURNITURE IS PUT INTO THOROUGH REPAIR] [Illustration: _HOME AMUSEMENTS._ GRAND PEACE DEMONSTRATION IN OUR NURSERY!] [Illustration: _AMATEUR PANTOMIME._] [Illustration: _A HAPPY NOTION._ _Delightful Boy._ "OH! I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I'LL DO! I'LL GO AND PLAY MY DRUM AT UNCLE FOOZLE'S DOOR!"] [Illustration: _HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS._ _Arthur_ (_on Pony_). "HOLLO! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT ON YOUR HEADS?" _Juvenile Swell._ "WHY, YOU SEE, EVERY SNOB WEARS A CAP OR A WIDE-AWAKE NOW! SO THE MEN OF OUR SCHOOL HAVE RETURNED TO THE OLD CHIMNEY-POT!" [_As Paterfamilias, we are sorry to say that we have observed this monstrosity many times this Christmas._ ] [Illustration: _IN SOCIETY._ _Small Boy._ "GOING TO THE PANTOMIME, CLARA, THIS AFTERNOON?" _Clara._ "A--NO--I'M AT HOME--AND HAVE A KETTLEDRUM AT THREE O'CLOCK!"] [Illustration: _PATRONISING._ "PRETTY SIGHT, AIN'T IT, CHARLEY, TO SEE THE YOUNGSTERS ENJOYING THEMSELVES?"] [Illustration: _PRIVATE THEATRICALS._] [Illustration: _THE JOLLY GAME OF SNOWBALLING, AS PLAYED IN OUR SQUARE._] [Illustration: _THE JUVENILE PARTY.--A GREAT LIBERTY._ _Juvenile._ "MAMMA, DEAR! DO YOU KNOW THAT GENTLEMAN TICKLED ME WITHOUT BEING INTRODUCED!"] [Illustration: _THE MORNING AFTER THE JUVENILE PARTY._ _Papa._ "WHY, TOM, I'M AFRAID YOU MUST HAVE EATEN TOO MUCH CAKE LAST NIGHT. YOU LOOK QUITE SEEDY THIS MORNING!" _Little Sister._ "OH, NO, PAPA DEAR, IT CAN'T BE THAT. HE EAT THE THINGS OUT OF THE CRACKERS, BUT HE DIDN'T TOUCH THE SEED CAKE!"] [Illustration: _AN ENVIOUS YOUTH._ _Sensitive Young Lady._ "POOR CREATURES! NOTHING BUT EATING AND SLEEPING! WHAT A DREADFUL EXISTENCE!" _Stout Youth._ "DREADFUL EXISTENCE!--OH, AH! I DARE SAY. WHY, THAT'S JUST THE VERY THING OF ALL OTHERS I SHOULD LIKE THE BEST!"] [Illustration: _THROWING STONES THROUGH ICE._ A DELIGHTFUL RECREATION FOR YOUTH, WHICH COMBINES HEALTHFUL EXERCISE WITH THE LUXURY OF WINDOW-BREAKING, WITHOUT DANGER OR EXPENSE.] [Illustration: _URGENT._ _Street Boy._ "I SAY, COOKY? THEY JUST ARE A-FININ' OF 'EM ALL ROUND THE SKVARE--GIVE US A SHILLIN' AND I'LL SWEEP YOUR DOOR AFORE THE PLEECEMAN COMES."] [Illustration: _THE MISTLETOE BOUGH.--IN LEAP YEAR, THE LADIES TAKE THE INITIATIVE._] [Illustration: _THE CHAMPION._] [Illustration: _THE WEATHER IN THE PARKS._ _Skate Proprietor._ "NOW MARM! 'AVE A PAIR ON?"] [Illustration: _NEW CHRISTMAS GAME FOR FOXHUNTERS DURING A LONG FROST._] [Illustration: _THE CRACKER BON-BON._ _Two little Stoopids_ (_with one voice_). "I KNOW I SHALL SCREAM--I'M SURE I SHALL!"] [Illustration: _A MAN OF SOME CONSEQUENCE._ _Elder Sister._ "WHY, GEORGE NOT DRESSED! PRAY ARE YOU NOT GOING WITH THE OTHER CHILDREN?" _George_. "H'M! I SHOULD RATHER FANCY NOT.--YOU DON'T CATCH ME GOING OUT OF AN EVENING JUST TO FURNISH PEOPLE'S ROOMS. WHERE I GO--I DINE!"] [Illustration: _THE WEATHER AND THE STREETS._ _Boy of the Period._ "GO IT TOMMY! THERE'S NO PERLICE, AND THE OLD GENT'S AFRAID TO COME OUT!"] [Illustration: _PATERFAMILIAS SUPERINTENDS IN PERSON THE REMOVAL OF THE SNOW FROM THE ROOF OF HIS HOUSE._--] [Illustration: _PLEASING EFFECT BELOW._] [Illustration: _WHAT A TERRIBLE TURK!_ "OH! HERE'S A JOLLY SNOWBALL. LET'S TAKE and PUT IT AGIN SOMEBODY'S DOOR!"] [Illustration: _PUTTING A GOOD FACE ON IT._ OF ALL FOOLISH THINGS, THE MERE PUN IS PERHAPS THE MOST FOOLISH.--NOW, HERE'S A FELLOW (PROBABLY A MEMBER OF THE ST--CK EXCH--GE) WHO, IN SPITE OF HIS REALLY PERILOUS CONDITION, SAYS, "THAT HE CAME OUT FOR A (W)HOLE HOLIDAY--AND HAS GOT IT!"] [Illustration: _FLUNKEIANA RUSTICA._ _Mistress._ "NOW, I DO HOPE, SAMUEL, YOU WILL MAKE YOURSELF TIDY, GET YOUR CLOTHES LAID IN TIME--AND TAKE GREAT PAINS WITH YOUR WAITING AT TABLE!" _Samuel_ (_who has come recently out of a Strawyard_). "YEZ, M'! BUT PLEAZ M', BE OI TO WEAR MY BREECHES?"] [Illustration: _IMPUDENCE._ "NOW, LOBSTER! KEEP THE POT A-BILING!"] [Illustration: _THE FESTIVE SEASON._ _Amy_ (_to Rose_). "GOOD GRACIOUS, ROSE--I'M AFRAID, FROM THE WAY THE MAN TALKS, THAT HE IS INTOXICATED!" _Cabby_ (_impressively_). "BEG PARD'N, MISS!--N-N-NOT (HIC)--INTOSSI-TOSSI-CATED (HIC)--ITSH ONLY SHLIGHT 'PED-PED-PEDIMENT IN SPEESH, MISS!"] [Illustration: _THE NOSE-COMFORTER._ _Sensible Man_ (_who despises conventionality_). "HAH! THE WORLD MAY SMILE, BUT IT'S VERY WARM AND COMFORTABLE."] [Illustration: _DELIGHTFUL PRIVILEGE DURING THE WINTER MONTHS._ YOU MAY BATHE IN THE SERPENTINE FROM 6 UNTIL 7 IN THE MORNING, AND 7 UNTIL 8 IN THE EVENING.] [Illustration: _ARTIFICIAL ICE--GRAND PAS DES PATINEURS._] [Illustration: _HOW DISAGREEABLE THE BOYS ARE._ _Boy._ "MY EYE, TOMMY! THERE'S THE HELEPHANT FROM THE S'LOGICAL GARDENS GOING A-SKATING!"] [Illustration: _HOW TROUBLESOME THE BOYS ARE._ _Juvenile._ "I SAY, HARRIET--DO US A FAVOUR?" _Pretty Cousin._ "WELL, WHAT IS IT?" _Juvenile._ "GIVE US A LOCK OF YOUR HAIR TO TAKE BACK TO SCHOOL."] [Illustration: _WINTER IN THE SUBURBS._ OUR DEAR OLD PATERFAMILIAS TAKES HIS OFFSPRING TO SEE THE PANTOMIME. UNFORTUNATELY, "THE ROADS" (AS THE CABMAN SAYS) "IS SO ORRIBUL BAD AND SLIPPY," THAT HE IS OBLIGED TO WALK WITH HIS DARLINGS THE GREATER PART OF THE WAY HOME.] [Illustration: _THE FOG IS SO VERY THICK THAT FREDERICK AND CHARLES ARE OBLIGED TO SEE CLARA AND EMILY HOME._] [Illustration: _THE JUVENILE PARTY._ _Paterfamilias_ (_to Youth who goes with his Pony well across country_). "HOLLO! HUGH, MY BOY! DON'T YOU LIKE DANCING?" _Youth._ "A--NO! I DON'T SEEM TO CARE FOR BALLS--FEW _HUNTING MEN DO_!!!"] [Illustration: _COLD WEATHER._ _Omnibus Driver._ "BILL! JIST BREAK THIS 'ERE ICICLE ORF MY NOSE WITH YER WHIP, THAT'S A GOOD FELLER! IT TAKES BOTH MY HANDS TO KEEP THESE 'OSSES ON THEIR LEGS."] [Illustration: _A VERY GREEN-EYED MONSTER!_ _First Juvenile._ "I WONDER WHAT CAN MAKE HELEN HOLDFAST POLK WITH YOUNG ALBERT GRIG?" _Second Ditto._ "DON'T YOU KNOW? WHY, TO MAKE ME JEALOUS! BUT SHE HAD BETTER NOT GO TOO FAR!"] [Illustration: _WHAT A SHAME!_ _Grandpapa._ "HEYDAY! WHAT MAKES MY LITTLE DARLING SO CROSS?" _Little Darling._ "WHY, GRANDPA, MAMMA WANTS ME TO GO TO A PANTOMIME IN THE DAY-TIME, AS IF I WAS A MERE CHILD!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW STYLE._ HOW YOUNG GENTLEMEN FROM SCHOOL GO TO SEE A PANTOMIME NOW-A-DAYS.] [Illustration: _UNDIGNIFIED REMINDER._ _Boy._ "I SAY, JOHN, AIN'T YOUR MASTER A LOOKIN' FOR YOU, NEETHER!"] [Illustration: _FAIR AND EQUAL._ _Sister._ "NOT GIVE A BALL, CHARLES! FIDDLE! WHY NOT? I TELL YOU WHAT,--IF YOU WILL FIND THE ROOM, AND THE MUSIC, AND THE SUPPER, AND THE CHAMPAGNE, AND THE ICES,--I'LL FIND THE LADIES! COME NOW!"] [Illustration: _FROZEN-OUT FOXHUNTERS._] [Illustration: _ODIOUS TYRANNY._ PATERFAMILIAS INSISTS THAT THE GIRLS SHALL WEAR VERY STOUT BOOTS IN THE WET WEATHER; BUT THE GIRLS DON'T AT ALL LIKE "=THE NASTY, GREAT, UGLY, CLUMSY, THICK THINGS!="] [Illustration: _SERIOUS ACCIDENT DURING THE FROST._ AS MAJOR--AND CAPTAIN--OF THE 13TH LIGHT POLKERS WERE SKATING WITH THE LOVELY AND ACCOMPLISHED EMILY D---- AND HARRIET V----, THEIR FEELINGS SUDDENLY GAVE WAY; THEY BROKE THE ICE, AND WE HEAR THEY HAVE NOT YET BEEN EXTRICATED FROM THEIR PERILOUS SITUATION.] [Illustration: _HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS._ _Paterfamilias._ "WELL, BOYS! I DARE SAY YOU'RE GLAD TO GET HOME; AND HOW DO YOU AND THE DOCTOR AGREE!" _Harry._ "OH! WE LIKE HIM VERY MUCH." _Paterfamilias._ "HAH! AND DO YOU THINK YOU ARE MAKING GOOD PROGRESS?" _Harry._ "OH! PRETTY GOOD! I CAN LICK THREE FELLOWS! BUT FRED, HERE, CAN LICK _SIX, COUNTING ME!_"] [Illustration: _A BON-BON FROM A JUVENILE PARTY._ _First Juvenile._ "THAT'S A PRETTY GIRL TALKING TO YOUNG ALGERNON BINKS!" _Second Juvenile._ "HM--TOL-LOL! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER SOME SEASONS AGO!"] [Illustration: _TOO BAD._ _Rude Boy._ "AH! HERE'S THE P'LEECE A-COMIN'; WON'T YOU CATCH IT FOR SLIDING ON THE PAVEMENT!"] [Illustration: _OLD MR. JONES AS HE APPEARED WHEN ASKED FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME IF HE WOULD HAVE HIS DOOR DONE._] [Illustration: _THE THEATRE OF WAR._ A PRIVATE BOX FOR ENGLAND'S DEAR BOYS ON FOREIGN SERVICE.] [Illustration: _A KINDLY OFFER._ _Skate Proprietor_ (_to Spectator with wooden leg_). "'AVE A PAIR ON, SIR!--AX YER PARDIN, SIR--DIDN'T TWIG YER MISFORTIN. I'VE A HODD 'UN YOU CAN 'AVE, SIR!"] [Illustration: _DISTRESSING RESULT OF EATING TURKEY DAY AFTER DAY._ THE POOR OLD PARTY HAS COME OUT ALL OVER FEATHERS.] [Illustration: _GLORIOUS NEWS FOR THE BOYS._ _Billy Wilkins._ "HI! LOOK HERE! COME! SUCH A LARK! HERE'S A PERLICEMAN FELL ON A SLIDE!"] [Illustration: _THE THAW AND THE STREETS!_ TOMKINS, WHO HAS JUST PAID HIS RATE FOR PAVING, CLEANSING, &C., GOES FOR A WALK IN HIS IMMEDIATE NEIGHBOURHOOD. HE IS, OF COURSE, MUCH GRATIFIED AT THE WAY IN WHICH THE CLEANSING PART OF THE BUSINESS IS MANAGED.] [Illustration: _DELICIOUS._ _Party in Bed._ "HEY! HOLLO! WHO'S THAT?" _Domestic._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, IT'S SEVEN O'CLOCK, SIR! YOUR SHOWER-BATH IS QUITE READY. I'VE JUST BROKEN THE ICE, SIR!"] [Illustration: _SYMPTOMS OF MASQUERADING._ _Better-Half_ (_loq._). "IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL SITTING UP WITH A SICK FRIEND, MR. WILKINS?"] [Illustration: _THE NURSERY FOUR-IN-HAND CLUB.--THE FIRST MEET OF THE SEASON._ _Master Robert_ (_loq._). "HERE, JAMES, JUST STAND BY THAT BAY FILLY.--SHE'S RATHER FRESH THIS MORNING!"] [Illustration: _THE OPERA._ _Door-Keeper._ "BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR--BUT YOU MUST, INDEED, SIR, BE IN FULL DRESS!" _Snob_ (_excited_). "FULL DRESS!! WHY, WHAT DO YER CALL THIS?"] [Illustration: _THE DAY AFTER THE JUVENILE PARTY.--AWFUL APPEARANCE OF THE DOCTOR._] [Illustration: _INNOCENT MIRTH--THE SLIDE ON THE PAVEMENT._] [Illustration: _DELIGHTFUL._ "OH! HERE'S A JOLLY SLEDGE!"] [Illustration: _HAVING A PAIR ON!_ _Skater._ "HI!--HOLLO!--WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT?--IT'S GOING INTO MY FOOT!" _Skate Proprietor._ "NEVER MIND, SIR!--BETTER 'AV 'EM ON FIRM!"] [Illustration: _A GOOD OLD COMIC CLOWN._] [Illustration: _STAGE FRIGHT._ "OH, JOEY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"] [Illustration: _A DECEIVER._ "IT'S QUITE TRUE, MUM!"] [Illustration: _SAME OLD GAME._] [Illustration: _AN OLD JOE._ _Clown_ (_loq._). "PRETTY CREECHUR!"] [Illustration: _DRESS CIRCLE AT PUNCH AND JUDY._] [Illustration: _EAGER APPLICANTS._ "WANT YOUR DOOR DONE, MUM?"] [Illustration: _RETURN FROM A SUBURBAN PARTY._ _Flyman._ "WERRY SORRY, MUM, I'M SURE, MUM--BUT THE OSS AIN'T ROUGHED, AND HE CAN'T GO A STEP FURDER!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. X. MR. B. AS HE APPEARED FROM SIX IN THE MORNING UNTIL THREE IN THE AFTERNOON, WHEN----] [Illustration: No. XI. HAVING HOOKED A "FISH," HE IS LANDED TO PLAY IT. THE FISH RUNS AWAY WITH HIM--AND MR. B. IS DRAGGED ABOUT A MILE AND A HALF OVER WHAT HE CONSIDERS A RATHER DIFFICULT COUNTRY.] [Illustration: _MODERATION._ _First Undergraduate._ "HOLLO, CHARLEY! AIN'T YOU GOING OUT TO-DAY?" _Second Undergraduate_ (_driving_). "WHY, NO--NOT THIS MORNING. YOU SEE I'M ONLY A ONE-HORSE MAN, AND AS I HAVE HUNTED HIM THREE TIMES THIS WEEK, I THOUGHT I'D GIVE HIM A DAY'S REST IN THE DOG-CART!"] [Illustration: _JONES TRIES HIS NEW HACK, WHICH IS AS QUIET AS A LAMB--JUST ABOUT!_] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. XII. ON ARRIVING AT "HELL'S HOLE," HE IS DETAINED FOR THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR, WHILE THE FISH SULKS AT THE BOTTOM.----] [Illustration: No. XIII. THE FISH HAVING REFRESHED HIMSELF, AND RECOVERED HIS SPIRITS, BOLTS AGAIN WITH MR. B.] [Illustration: _NO CONSEQUENCE._ "I SAY, JACK! WHO'S THAT COME TO GRIEF IN THE DITCH?" "ONLY THE PARSON!" "OH, LEAVE HIM THERE, THEN! HE WON'T BE WANTED UNTIL NEXT SUNDAY!"] [Illustration: _THE REVIEW._ "NOW, MARM, HERE'S A PLACE TO STAND ON. YER MAY SEE EVERY THINK; AND ONLY SIXPENCE!"] MR. BRIGGS'S PLEASURES OF FISHING. [Illustration: No. XIV. AFTER A LONG AND EXCITING STRUGGLE, MR. B. IS ON THE POINT OF LANDING HIS PRIZE WHEN--THE LINE UNFORTUNATELY BREAKS!] [Illustration: No. XV. HOWEVER, IN MUCH LESS TIME THAN IT HAS TAKEN TO MAKE THIS IMPERFECT SKETCH--ACCOUTRED AS HE IS--HE PLUNGES IN--AND AFTER A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER, HE SECURES A MAGNIFICENT SALMON, FOR WHICH HE DECLARES HE WOULD NOT TAKE A GUINEA A POUND!--AND IT IS NOW STUFFED IN THE GLASS-CASE OVER THE ONE WHICH CONTAINS HIS LATE FAVOURITE SPOTTED HUNTER.] [Illustration: _AN APRIL FOOL._ _Equestrian._ "HERE, BOY! COME AND HOLD MY HORSE." _Boy._ "DOES HE KICK?" _Equestrian._ "KICK! NO!" _Boy._ "DOES HE BITE?" _Equestrian._ "BITE! NO! CATCH HOLD OF HIM." _Boy._ "DOES IT TAKE TWO TO HOLD HIM?" _Equestrian._ "NO." _Boy._ "THEN HOLD HIM YOURSELF." [_Exit_ BOY, _performing_ "_Pop goes the Weasel_." ] [Illustration: _THE SEA-SIDE CIRCULATING LIBRARY._ "ALL THE NEW WORKS ARE OUT, MISS. BUT HERE'S THE SECOND VOLUME OF THE 'SCOTTISH CHIEFS'--OR HERE'S 'CAMPBELL'S PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC,' IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ THAT."] [Illustration: _DREADFUL JOKE._ _William._ "THERE, AMY! WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THOSE FOR A PAIR OF MOUSTACHES?" _Amy._ "WHY, I SHOULD SAY THAT CALLING THOSE MOUSTACHES WAS GIVING TO 'HAIRY NOTHINGS A LOCAL HABITATION AND A NAME.'" [_For shame_, Amy! ] [Illustration: _GOOD NEWS! REAL SENTIMENT._ _The Lady Emmeline._ "NO, DEAREST CONSTANCE, I AM NOT UNHAPPY, THESE ARE TEARS OF JOY! FOR SEE HOW THE DEAR LORD AUBREY WRITES--(_Reads an advertisement_)--'_I have much pleasure in giving my testimony to the skill of Professor Puffenburg, who has extracted two very troublesome corns without causing me any pain._--_De Belgrave._' DEAR, DEAR AUBREY, THEN YOU ARE HAPPY!"] [Illustration: _A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS._ _Foxhunter._ "HERE'S A BORE, JACK! THE GROUND IS HALF A FOOT THICK WITH SNOW, AND IT'S FREEZING LIKE MAD!"] [Illustration: _BROAD CARICATURE._] [Illustration: _RATHER ALARMING._ _Lady._ "YOU WISHED, SIR, I BELIEVE, TO SEE ME RESPECTING THE STATE OF MY DAUGHTER'S AFFECTIONS, WITH A VIEW TO A MATRIMONIAL ALLIANCE WITH THAT YOUNG LADY. IF YOU WILL WALK INTO THE LIBRARY, MY HUSBAND AND I WILL DISCUSS THE SUBJECT WITH YOU." _Young Corydon._ "OH, GRACIOUS!!!"] [Illustration: _GOOD SECURITY._ _Boy._ "PLEASE, SIR, GIVE ME A BROWN?" _Swell._ "SIXPENCE IS THE SMALLEST MONEY I HAVE, MY LITTLE LAD." _Boy._ "VEL, SIR, I'LL GET YER CHANGE; AND IF YER DOUBTS MY HONOUR, =HOLD MY BROOM=!"] [Illustration: _UNCONSCIOUS SATIRE._ _Stout Party._ "WELL, I'M SURE! WHAT CAN POSSESS THOSE SKINNY CREATURES TO WEAR ROUND HATS, I CAN'T THINK,--MAKING THEMSELVES SO CONSPICUOUS!"] [Illustration: _SCENE--PALAIS ROYAL._ _Garçon_ (_to London Gent_). "VOIL�! M'SIEU! LE CHARIVARI--FRENCH PUNCH. GOOD MORNING SARE! OH, I SPEAK INGLEES VERRA WELL--I LIVE IN INGLEES COPPLE TRREE MUNSE. OH YAS--ALL RIGHT! NEVARE MIND!!" [_Jumps over three chairs and vanishes to the great astonishment of_ TOMKINS. ] [Illustration: _POOR MUGGINS!_ _Smythe_ (_to_ MUGGINS, _who, in the heat of the moment, has been drinking his wine out of tumblers_). "THERE, MY BOY! THAT'S SUCH A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE AS YOU DON'T GET EVERY DAY--AND BETWEEN YOU AND ME (_very confidentially_) BETWEEN--YOU--AND ME--I ONLY GAVE _FOUR AND TWENTY SHILLINGS A DOZEN FOR IT_!" [_Exit_ MUGGINS _for an antidote_. ] [Illustration: _INCREDIBLE!_ _Mrs. Muggins._ "WHAT! FOURTEEN ON YE SLEEP UNDER THAT GIG UMBRELLER OF A THING? GET ALONG WITH YER!"] [Illustration: _VERY FRIENDLY._ _Little Gent._ "MORNIN' MY LORD!--GLAD TO SEE YOU OUT AGAIN!--WHAT I LIKE ABOUT FOX-'UNTING IS, THAT IT IMPROVES THE BREED OF 'ORSES--AND BRINGS PEOPLE TOGETHER AS WOULDN'T OTHERWISE MEET!"] [Illustration: _THE ROAD._ _Party in the Cart_ (_to Tomkins, who is immensely proud of his Steed_). "I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR, BUT YOU DON'T 'APPEN TO 'AV =ANOTHER= CAMEL AS YOU WANT TO DISPOSE OF?"] [Illustration: _LATEST FROM PARIS._ _Beautiful Being._ "WELL, I MUST SAY, PARKER, THAT I LIKE THE HAIR DRESSED � L'IMP�RATRICE. IT SHOWS SO MUCH OF THE FACE."] [Illustration: _A MOMENTOUS DECISION._ _Augustus._ "ARE YOU FOND OF MOUSTARSHERS, EMILY?" _Emily._ "YES! I THINK THEY LOOK VERY WELL UPON SOME PEOPLE." _Augustus._ "AH! THEN THAT SETTLES THE POINT. I _SHALL LET MINE GROW_."] [Illustration: _THE FINISHING TOUCH TO A PICTURE._ _Artist._ "NOW, DON'T HESITATE TO SAY IF YOU SEE ANYTHING I CAN ALTER OR IMPROVE." _Candid Friend._ "HM! WELL! NO! I DON'T SEE ANYTHING--UNLESS, PERHAPS, YOU-A MIGHT REPAINT THE PRINCIPAL FIGURES, AND--I--YES--I SHOULD CERTAINLY GET A NEW BACKGROUND IN."] [Illustration: _FINE HAUT-BOYS!_ THIS JOLLY OLD PATER KNOWS WHAT A SMILING WELCOME AWAITS HIM WHEN HE BRINGS HIS TREASURES HOME.] [Illustration: _JACK ASHORE._ _Policeman._ "HULLO, JACK! I SUPPOSE YOU'RE NOT SORRY TO COME ON LAND FOR A BIT?" _Jack_ (_who hasn't got his shore legs yet_). "WELL, IT AIN'T SUCH A BAD PLACE FOR A DAY OR TWO--ONLY IT'S SO PRECIOUS DIFFICULT TO WALK STRAIGHT!"] [Illustration: _ADDING INSULT TO INJURY._] [Illustration: _AFFECTING INCIDENT AT BOULOGNE._ OUR FRIEND, 'ARRY BELVILLE, IS SO KNOCKED ALL OF A HEAP BY THE BEAUTY OF THE FOREIGN FISH-GIRLS, THAT HE OFFERS HIS 'AND AND 'ART TO THE LOVELY PAULINE.] [Illustration: _EXCITEMENT._ "RUN, BILL--RUN AND BRING HISABELLER--HERE'S A CHIMNEY A-FI-ER!!"] [Illustration: _ROMANCE OF A BOTTLE._ _Mr. Bounce._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, OLD BOY, FINISH THAT, AND YOU SHALL HAVE SOME OF MY _PECULIAR_ OLD PORT. I'VE HAD IT IN BOTTLE MYSELF NINE YEARS."] [Illustration: THIS IS THE PECULIAR OLD PORT.] [Illustration: _AN UNWELCOME VISITOR._ THE DISTURBER OF THE PEACE OF PRIVATE FAMILIES.] [Illustration] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ _Foot Boy._ "WELL, SIR, MASTER HIS AT 'OME, BUT HE'S CONFINED TO HIS ROOM. HE'S A GROWIN' OF HIS MOOSTARSHERS, AND AIN'T ALLOWED TO SEE NOBODY BUT HIS 'AIRDRESSER."] [Illustration: _QUITE AN EXQUISITE._ _Commercial Gent._ "THIS WAR, SIR, WILL BE A TERRIBLE HINDRANCE TO ALL KINDS OF BUSINESS!" _Swell._ "AW--DESSAY! D'LIGHTED TO HEAR IT--A ALWAYS HAD THE GWEATEST AVERSION T' ALL KINDS OF BUSINESS."] [Illustration: _FLUNKEIANA._ _Lady's-Maid._ "WELL, I'M SURE, MR. ROBERT! I THINK YOU MIGHT FIND SOMETHING BETTER TO DO THAN LOLLOPING ABOUT IN THAT GREAT EASY CHAIR. YOU MIGHT GO AND HELP IN THE HAY-FIELD, ONE WOULD THINK!" _Flunkey._ "OH, YES! AND A NICE FIGGER _I_ SHOULD BE! WOT WOULD MISSUS SAY, PRAY, IF I WENT AND SPYLED MY COMPLEXION, AND MADE MY 'ANDS 'ARD?"] [Illustration: _PRIVATE OPINION._ _Lieutenant Whobble_ (_who has just been embodied_). "HAH! THIS IS SOMETHING LIKE! INFINITELY BETTER THAN THE RIDICULOUS OLD COATEE!!"] [Illustration: _A PRETTY GENERAL DELUSION._ _Mr. Kiddlums._ "WELL, ELIZABETH--I HOPE WE SHALL HAVE A PRIZE BABY SHOW HERE--AND THEN--I FLATTER MYSELF--...."] [Illustration: _WHAT MUST BE THE NEXT FASHION IN BONNETS._] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC BLISS._ _Servant_ (_rushing in_). "OH! GRACIOUS GOODNESS, MASTER! THERE'S THE KITCHEN CHIMLEY A-FIRE--AND TWO PARISH INGINS KNOCKING AT THE STREET DOOR!"] [Illustration: _GOING TO A PARTY._ _Exquisite._ "AW, DRIVAW--HAVE YOU A GOOD HORSE?" _Cabman._ "YES, SIR! A WERRY GOOD OSS." _Exquisite._ "AW! THEN DRA-IVE ME TO NEXT DOOR."] [Illustration: _A MAN OF PRINCIPLE._ WHEN COALS ARE SO DEAR, IT BEHOVES EVERY FAMILY MAN TO SEE THAT HE GETS THE PROPER NUMBER OF SACKS FOR HIS MONEY. PATERFAMILIAS DOES HIS DUTY LIKE A MAN, ALTHOUGH THE COALS ARRIVE JUST AT HIS DINNER-TIME, AND THE WEATHER IS RATHER INCLEMENT.] [Illustration: _IN THE RANKS._ _First Militia-man._ "JIM, YOU BAIN'T IN STEP." _Second Ditto._ "BAIN'T I? WELL, CHANGE YOUR'N."] [Illustration: _MORE LIGHT._ _Irritated Swell._ "RING? YES, OF COURSE I RUNG! HOW THE DEUCE DO YOU SUPPOSE I'M TO DO MY BACK HAIR WITH ONLY ONE CANDLE?"] [Illustration: _FLY-FISHING._ MR. HACKLE ARRIVES AT HIS FAVOURITE SPOT, WHERE HE KNOWS THERE IS A GOOD TROUT.] [Illustration: _WHAT A SHAME!_ _Young Lady_ (_inclining to embonpoint_). "I SHALL WANT HIM AGAIN THIS AFTERNOON--FROM TWO TO FOUR."] [Illustration: _EVERY LADY HER OWN BATHING-MACHINE, OR AN UGLY CONTRIVANCE MADE A USEFUL APPENDAGE._] [Illustration: _SCENE--DRAWING-ROOM._ _Enter_ HORRID BOY. _Horrid Boy_ (_capering about_). "OH, LOOK HERE, CAPTAIN! I'VE FOUND OUT WHAT CLARA STUFFS HER HAIR OUT WITH. THEY'RE WHISKERS LIKE YOURS!" [_Sensation._ ] [Illustration: _A LITTLE BIT OF SENTIMENT._] [Illustration: _A VERY PARTICULAR PARTY._ _Mr._ ----. "OH, HERE YOU ARE AT LAST! NOW YOU MUST COME AND DANCE THIS WALTZ WITH A FRIEND OF MINE--CHARMING GIRL, I ASSURE YOU!" _Mr._ ---- (_who prides himself upon his dancing_). "HAW! THANK YOU--YOU'RE VERY GOOD!--BUT I NEVER WALTZ WITH STRANGE GIRLS. I DON'T MIND GIVING HER A QUADRILLE FIRST, JUST TO SEE HOW SHE MOVES!"] [Illustration: _CAMP LIFE--A BIT OF SENTIMENT._ "WELL, FRANK! THIS DELIGHTFUL CAMP IS NEARLY OVER." "HM, HAW! YA-AS! AND IF YOU'LL ALLOW ME, I'LL TAKE A LAST FOND LOOK, AND A--A--LEAN UPON MY WHAT D'YE CALL IT, AS THE SONG SAYS, AND A--WIPE AWAY A TE--AR!"] [Illustration: "_WHO WOULDN'T BE A RIDING-MASTER?_"] [Illustration: _A FRIENDLY MOUNT._ _Party_ (_whose nerve is not what it used to be_). "YOU ARE QUITE SURE, CHARLES, THAT HE'S TEMPERATE?" _Charles._ "OH, YES! COME ALONG! DO YOU THINK I SHOULD LET YOU RIDE HIM IF HE WASN'T? WHY, YOU MIGHT _KILL THE HORSE_!" [_Nervous Party is much flattered by the consideration of Friend._ ] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE SPORT._ _Jolly Angler._ "HOORAY, TOM! I'VE GOT ONE--AND, MY WORD! DIDN'T HE PULL!"] [Illustration: _SLANG._ "MY EYE, 'ARRY. THAT'S A STUNNING GREAT-COAT." "AH! I FLATTER MYSELF IT'S RATHER 'DOWN THE ROAD.'"] [Illustration: _THE HORRORS OF WAR._ _First Newmarket Boy._ "AWFUL WORK THIS, BILL. WE'RE A GOIN' TO WAR WITH ROOSIA!" _Second Ditto._ "WELL, WOT ODDS?" _First Ditto._ "WOT ODDS? WHY, THERE WON'T BE NO HEMPEROR'S CUP NEXT YEAR, THAT'S ALL!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW CAB REGULATION._ SHOWING THE SHIFTS TO WHICH THE POOR CABMAN IS REDUCED, NOW THAT HE IS NOT PERMITTED TO LEAVE HIS SEAT WHILST ON DUTY.] [Illustration: _LIFE IN LONDON._ _Isabella._ "WELL, AUNT, AND HOW DID YOU LIKE LONDON? I SUPPOSE YOU WERE VERY GAY?" _Aunt_ (_who inclines to embonpoint_). "OH YES, LOVE, GAY ENOUGH! WE WENT TO THE TOP O' THE MONUMENT O' MONDAY--AND TO THE TOP O' ST. PAUL'S O' TUESDAY--AND TO THE TOP O' THE DOOK O' YORK'S COLUMN O' WEDNESDAY--BUT I THINK ALTOGETHER I LIKE THE QUIET OF THE COUNTRY."] [Illustration: _TERRIBLE PROPOSITION._ _Ferocious Hairdresser._ "NOW, SIR, SHALL I TAKE THE PINTS OFF THE WHISKERS?"] [Illustration: _BUSINESS-LIKE._ "I SAY, CHARLEY, DON'T YOU THINK YOU HAD BETTER GO BACK TO YOUR CUSTOMER?" _Incipient Wine Merchant._ "NOT YET. ALWAYS GONE A QUARTER OF AN HOUR FOR THE _VERY_ OLD PORT--FURTHER END OF THE CELLAR! CELLAR'S VERY EXTENSIVE! GREAT CARE NECESSARY FOR FEAR OF DISTURBING THE CRUST, YOU KNOW--ET C�TERA--TWIG?"] [Illustration: _PRIDE FEELS NO PAIN._ _Arabella._ "OH! DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, FREDERICK. IT ISN'T THE SHOE, FOR THAT'S A GREAT DEAL TOO LARGE."] [Illustration: _DISCRETION._ _Gentleman from Town_ (_loq._). "OH, IF THIS IS ONE OF THE LITTLE PLACES CHARLEY SPOKE OF, I SHALL GO BACK."] [Illustration: _THE BEARD MOVEMENT._ DISMAY OF A BRITISH SWELL ON SEEING A POSTMAN WITH MOUSTACHES.] [Illustration: _THE FLY-CATCHER._] [Illustration: _WELL OUT OF IT._ "THAT'S A DEUCED GOOD HORSE TO GO, DRIVER. WHAT'S HIS FAULT THAT HE COMES IN A CAB?" "WELL, SIR, I DON'T KNOW OF ANY FAULT IN PERTICKLER, 'CEPT THAT WHEN HE BEGINS TO KICK, HE DO KICK LIKE BLAZES."] [Illustration: _THE POLICE WEAR BEARDS AND MOUSTACHES.--PANIC AMONGST THE STREET-BOYS._] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._ _Mistress._ "WHY, NURSE--WHAT A TERRIBLE DISTURBANCE!--PRAY, WHAT IS THE MATTER?" _Nurse_ (_addicted to Pen and Ink_). "OH, MUM, IT'S DREADFUL!--HERE'S NEETHER ME NOR MARY CAN'T ANSWER NONE OF OUR LETTERS FOR THE RACKET!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW COOK._ _Missis._ "WHY, MY GOODNESS, COOK! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN ABOUT? FIVE O'CLOCK, AND THAT HARE NOT PUT DOWN YET!" _Artiste._ "CAN'T HELP IT, MARM. I NEVER KNEW ANYTHINK TAKE SUCH A TIME TO PLUCK IN MY LIFE!"] [Illustration: _NE PLUS(H) ULTRA._ _John Thomas._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, WILLIAM--THE PRESS MUST BE PUT DOWN! THEY'VE BIN AND GOT THE SOLDIERS' UNIFORM ALTERED, AND I SHOULDN'T WONDER IF THEY CALLED OURS RIDIKLUS NEXT!"] [Illustration: _A DELICATE COMPLIMENT._ _First Whip_ (_who is a little ruffled because the Fox won't break_). "NOW, THEN, SIR! OUT O' THE WAY, UNLESS YOU'LL GET INTO THE COVER. MAYHAP YOUR UGLY MUG MIGHT FRIGHTEN HIM OUT. COME UP, 'OSS!"] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT WITH THE O. P. Q. HOUNDS._ MISS DIANA SLIPS OFF AT A FENCE, AND IS SO UNFORTUNATE AS TO LEAVE THE BETTER HALF OF HER HABIT ON THE POMMELS OF HER SADDLE.] [Illustration: _GREAT BOON TO THE PUBLIC._ _Incipient Swell_ (_in costume of the period_). "WELL! TA-TA, GUS! I SHALL JUST GO AND SHOW MYSELF IN THE PARK."] [Illustration: _THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACE; VIZ., A CLUB WINDOW._ _Old General Muddle._ "WHAT I SAY, IS--IS--EH? WHAT? BY JOVE! WHAT THE DOOCE SHOULD CIVILIANS KNOW ABOUT--EH? WHAT--AHEM!--MILITARY AFFAIRS! AFFAIRS! EH?" _Colonel Splutter._ "HAH! THE PRESS, SIR! BY JOVE, THE PRESS IS THE CURSE OF THE COUNTRY, AND WILL BE THE RUIN OF THE ARMY! BY JOVE, I'D HANG ALL LITTERY MEN--HANG 'EM, SIR!"] [Illustration: _IN THE PARK._ THE POOR FLY-DRIVERS ARE UP SO LATE AT NIGHTS, THAT THEY ARE GLAD TO GET A NAP WHEN THEY CAN. THIS IS NOT TO BE WONDERED AT, BUT IT IS NOT LIKELY TO ADD TO THE REPOSE EITHER OF OLD MRS. DUMBLEDORE OR OF OLD MRS. BLOWHARD, WHO ARE OUT FOR AN AIRING.] [Illustration: "_WELL, THEY MAY CALL THIS A HEALTH-GIVING PURSUIT, IF THEY LIKE: BUT GIVE ME ROACH-FISHING IN A PUNT._"] [Illustration: _SOMETHING THE MATTER WITH THE KITCHEN BOILER._ (_Affectionately dedicated to_ PATERFAMILIAS, _whoever he might be_.)] [Illustration: _FORTUNE-TELLING.--A SCENE OF DOMESTIC INTEREST._] MR. TOM NODDY'S FIRST DAY WITH THE HOUNDS. [Illustration: No. I. _Groom._ "YOU'LL FIND THE MARE IN RARE FETTLE, SIR. SHE'S UNCOMMON FRESH TO BE SURE!"] [Illustration: No. II. SO FRESH THAT SHE WON'T LET T. N. MOUNT FOR EVER SO LONG, AND WHEN SHE DOES] [Illustration: No. III. ALLOW HIM, PUTS UP HER BACK IN THE MOST OMINOUS MANNER.] [Illustration: No. IV. SHE SHIES AT A WHEELBARROW--A THING SHE NEVER DID BEFORE. (T. N. DROPS HIS WHIP.) AFTER SOME] [Illustration: No. V. TROUBLE IN OPENING A GATE.] [Illustration: No. VI. (T. N. DROPS HIS WHIP AGAIN, BY-THE-BY.)] [Illustration: No. VII. HE GETS UPON A NICE PIECE OF TURF.] [Illustration: No. VIII. THE MARE ENJOYS HERSELF AMAZINGLY.] [Illustration: No. IX. ARRIVED AT THE MEET, LITTLE TOM NODDY THINKS HE WILL HAVE A QUIET WEED; BUT AT THIS MOMENT] [Illustration: No. X. THE HOUNDS MOVE FOR THE COVER, AND THE MARE BECOMES FULL OF PLAY AGAIN.] [Illustration: NO. XI. HAVING PICKED HIMSELF UP, TOGETHER WITH HIS WHIP AND CIGAR, T. N. JOGS ON WITH THE REST OF THE FIELD. AS THEY PASS BY SOME TURNIPS, TO THE DELIGHT OF EVERYBODY, A FOX GETS UP. THE MARE, WHO HAD BECOME ALMOST STEADY, IS AGAIN EXCITED, AND RUSHES WILDLY AHEAD, AMIDST THE EXECRATIONS OF THE HUNT, AND LOUD CRIES OF "HOLD HARD!" WHICH T. N. MISTAKES FOR ANXIETY ON HIS ACCOUNT; AND GRASPING THE POMMEL OF HIS SADDLE WITH BOTH HANDS, ABANDONS HIMSELF TO CIRCUMSTANCES, WHICH, CONSIDERING THERE IS A FLIGHT OF HURDLES BEFORE HIM, ARE NOT VERY FAVOURABLE.] [Illustration: No. XII. FORTUNATELY FOR TOM NODDY, HOWEVER, THE MARE SWERVES AT THE HURDLES, AND WITH THE EXCEPTION OF DROPPING HIS WHIP AGAIN, HE MEETS WITH NO GREAT INCONVENIENCE] [Illustration: No. XIII. BUT COMING TO THE FIRST FENCE, THE PLAYFUL CREATURE GOES AT IT LIKE A SHOT OUT OF A GUN;] [Illustration: No. XIV. AND T. N. FINDS THAT THERE IS STILL A GOOD DEAL OF SNOW IN SOME OF THE DITCHES.] [Illustration: No. XV. THE MARE EXTRICATES HERSELF FROM THE DIFFICULTY SOONER THAN OUR LITTLE FRIEND, AND GETTING AWAY FROM HIM, TAKES A LINE OF HER OWN.] [Illustration: No. XVI. T. N. FINDS RUNNING AFTER HIS QUADRUPED VERY LABORIOUS. HE RESTS HIMSELF ON A STILE, AND HAS ANOTHER QUIET WEED.] [Illustration: No. XVII. THIS REPRESENTS THE PRECISE MOMENT WHEN TOM NODDY, AFTER MUCH EXERCISE, MEETS A SIMPLE COUNTRYMAN RETURNING WITH THE MARE. THE SIMPLE COUNTRYMAN IS ASSURING T. N. THAT HE HAD A DEAL OF TROUBLE TO CATCH HER, AND THEN IT WUR TWENTY MINUTES AFORE HE COULD MAKE HER LEAVE THE 'OUNDS--AND THEN ONLY 'ACAUSE SHE WUR QUITE "BLOWED."--(_N.B. The simple countryman hopes T. N. will remember him._)] [Illustration: _CERTAINLY NOT._ _Shoe Brigade Boy_ (_to old Gent irascible from gout, which has settled in his feet_). "NOW, SIR! DID YOU WANT YOUR SHOES BLACKED?"] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ _Frederick._ "NOW THEN, WILLIAM, WHAT ARE YER WAITING FOR?" _William._ "WHY, I WAS A-THINKIN' VETHER I SHOULD WEAR MY MOOSTARCHERS LIKE THIS HERE OR LIKE THAT =HARE=."] [Illustration: _PLEASANT QUARTERS._ A YOUNG OFFICER IN THE MILITIA LEARNING THE MANUAL EXERCISE OVER YOUR HEAD!] [Illustration: _AGRICULTURAL DISTRESS._ _Young Farmer No 1._ "WELL, CHARLEY--HAVE YOU HAD MUCH SHOOTING LATELY?" _Young Farmer No. 2._ "WHY, NO; WHAT WITH HUNTING TWO DAYS A WEEK AND COURSING TWO DAYS, I DON'T GET MUCH TIME TO GO OUT WITH A GUN."] [Illustration: _AN HOUR'S RIDE._] [Illustration: _VALENTINE'S DAY._] [Illustration: _THE REAL STREET OBSTRUCTIONS._] [Illustration: _THE ICE HARVEST._] [Illustration: _THE REAL USE OF THE BEAR-SKIN CAP--A HINT TO THE GUARDS._] [Illustration: _THE FROZEN-OUT FOXHUNTER._ SPORTING MILITAIRE RECALLS TO MIND HIS CANADIAN EXPERIENCES (THE GROUND BEING DEEP WITH SNOW), BUILDS A TREBOGGIN, AND FOR THE MOMENT CEASES TO SWEAR AT THE FROST, OR TO REGRET THE SIX HUNTERS HE HAS EATING THEIR HEADS OFF IN THE STABLE.] [Illustration: _ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT._ _First Dandy M.P._ "PWOWOGATION TO BE LATE THIS YEAR, ON ACCOUNT OF SOME COLONIAL BILLS, I HEAR." _Second Ditto._ "BOTHER THE COLONIES! HAVEN'T WE DONE ENOUGH FOR 'EM THIS YEAR?--DIDN'T WEST AUSTRALIAN WIN THE DERBY?"] [Illustration: _A VERY OLD FRIEND._ OUR "USED UP" MAN HAS A FEW "USED UP" FRIENDS TO BREAKFAST; AFTER WHICH THEY DERIVE A LITTLE REAL ENJOYMENT FROM A DRAMATIC ENTERTAINMENT] [Illustration: _AQUATICS.--A COMFORTABLE RAN-DAN._ _Jolly Young Waterman._ "HOLLOA! HI! POLICE! BACK WATER, JACK! WE'VE GOT INTO A NEST OF SWANS, AND THEY'RE A PITCHIN' INTO ME!"] [Illustration: _THE SUPERIOR ANIMAL._ _Party_ (_who of course doesn't think_ HIMSELF _good looking_). "REALLY, CLARA, I CAN'T THINK HOW YOU CAN MAKE A PET OF SUCH AN UGLY BRUTE AS AN ISLE OF SKYE TERRIER!"] [Illustration: _THOSE BOYS AGAIN!_ _Street Boy_ (_in playful allusion to the basket carriage_). "OH, LOOK HERE, BILL! IF 'ERE AIN'T A SWELL DRIVING HISSELF HOME FROM THE _WASH_!"] [Illustration: _MARRIED FOR MONEY.--THE HONEYMOON._ "NOW, THEN, DARLING, PUT AWAY YOUR PAPER, AND WE'LL HAVE A NICE LONG WALK, AND THEN COME BACK TO TEA IN OUR OWN LITTLE COTTAGE, AND BE AS HAPPY AS TWO LITTLE BIRDS!" SAID THE FAIR BRIDE.--"OH, HANG IT!" MENTALLY EJACULATED THE CAPTAIN.] [Illustration: _COOL REQUEST._ _Lady Crinoline._ "YOU WON'T MIND RIDING ON THE BOX, EDWARD DEAR, WILL YOU?--I'M AFRAID, IF WE BOTH GO INSIDE THE BROUGHAM, MY NEW DRESS WILL GET SO RUMPLED!"] [Illustration: _A NICE OFFER._ _Cousin_ (_who is a leetle fast_). "MORNIN', CHARLES! NOW THEN, IF YOU WILL POP ON YOUR HATS, AND WRAP YOURSELVES UP WARM, I'LL TAKE YOU AND YOUR FRIEND OUT FOR A DRIVE!"] [Illustration: _INFRA DIG._ EFFECT OF THE CAB-STRIKE--GOING TO THE OPERA IN A WHEELBARROW.] [Illustration: _UNABASHED._ _Emily._ "WHY, MY GOODNESS, FRANK! WHAT A DREADFUL BLACK EYE YOU HAVE! YOU ARE QUITE DISFIGURED!" _Frank._ "H'M, HAH! THAT'S VERY DISAGREEABLE, NOW; I WAS IN HOPES NO ONE WOULD HAVE PERCEIVED IT!" [Frank _has been so unfortunate as to catch a cold in his eye from sitting in a draught at Exeter Hall--so he SAYS._ ] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL._ AS THE TRAIN STOPS, MR. P. ENDEAVOURS TO GET SOME STOUT FOR HIS WIFE, WHO FROM CIRCUMSTANCES, IS OBLIGED TO DRINK THAT REFRESHING BEVERAGE FOUR OR FIVE TIMES A-DAY. UNFORTUNATELY MR. P. CANNOT FIND HIS CARRIAGE, AND, AS THE TRAIN IS RATHER BEHIND TIME, THE OFFICIALS ARE IN SOME HURRY AND CONFUSION.] [Illustration: _LET US HAVE JAPANESE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS HERE._ "THE TRAVELLER, WEARIED WITH THE NOONDAY HEAT, NEED NEVER BE AT A LOSS TO FIND REST AND REFRESHMENT; STRETCHED UPON THE SOFTEST AND CLEANEST OF MATTING, IMBIBING THE MOST DELICATELY FLAVOURED TEA, INHALING THE FRAGRANT TOBACCO OF JAPAN, HE RESIGNS HIMSELF TO THE MINISTRATIONS OF A BEVY OF FAIR DAMSELS, WHO GLIDE RAPIDLY AND NOISELESSLY ABOUT, THE MOST ZEALOUS AND SKILFUL OF ATTENDANTS."--_TIMES._] [Illustration: _A DELICATE CREATURE._ _Youthful Swell._ "NOW CHARLEY--YOU'RE JUST IN TIME FOR BREAKFAST, HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE?" _Languid Swell_ (_probably in a Government Office_). "THANKS! NO! I ASSURE YAH--MY DE-AR FELLAH! IF I WAS TO TAKE A CUP OF COFFEE IN THE MORNING, IT WOULD KEEP ME AWAKE ALL DAY!"] [Illustration: _RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY._ _First Naturalist._ "WHAT! THE S-S-HE-SHER-PENT A-AN (HIC) ICH-(HIC-)THYOSAURUS? NONSHE-ENSE!" _Second Naturalist._ "WHO SAID ICH-(HIC) ICHTHY-O-SAURUS? I SAID A (HIC) PLESI-O-(HIC)-SAURUS PLAINENUFF."] [Illustration: _VERY CONSIDERATE._ _Steward._ "WILL EITHER OF YOU, GENTLEMEN, DINE ON BOARD? THERE'S A CAPITAL HOT DINNER AT THREE O'CLOCK."] [Illustration: _PERFECTLY DWEADFUL!_ _Guard._ "NOW, SIR! IF YOU'RE GOING ON BY THE EXPRESS, HERE'S JUST ROOM FOR ONE!" _Tourist._ "WHA-T! GET IN WITH HAWWID OLD WOMEN, AND SQUEEMING CHILDREN! BY JOVE! YOU KNOW! I SAY! IT'S IMPAWSIBLE, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _SCENE--A CLUB._ _Swell._ "HAW! IS THERE ANYTHING WEADY FOR DINNAW?" _Waiter._ "SHOULDER OF MUTTON JUST READY, SIR!" _Swell._ "HAW--SHOULDAW OF MUTTON!--AW--WHAT A VEWY ODD THING FOR DINNAW!--THOUGHT THEY ONLY MADE _GLUE_ OF SHOULDAW OF MUTTON!"] [Illustration: _FLATTERING._ _Boy_ (_in allusion to_ BROWN, _who thinks he is well got up_). "OH! LOOK HERE, BILLY. THEY'VE GOT A DINNER PARTY AT THIS 'OUSE--AND IF 'ERE AIN'T THE COVE WHAT'S A-GOING TO WAIT."] [Illustration: _BENEFIT OF CLERGY._ _Binks, Minor_ (_loq._). "AH! YOU CAN'T THINK HOW A FELLA SAVES, WHEN HE GOES INTO THE CHURCH. I USED TO GIVE SNOBBINS THREE GUINEAS FOR MY BOOTS, AND _NOW_ I GET THEM MADE FOR TWO POUND TWELVE." _Binks, Major._ "BY JOVE!"] [Illustration: _A BARE ASSERTION._ _Fred._ "HOW DO YOU LIKE THE ALTERATION, BLANCHE?" _Blanche._ "WHAT ALTERATION, DEAR?" _Fred._ "WHY, HANG IT!--HAVEN'T I CUT OFF MY BEARD AND MOUSTACHES?"] [Illustration: _MR. PUNCH AT HOME._] [Illustration: _THE FRUGAL MARRIAGE QUESTION._ _Jones_ (_of the Dandelion Club_). "DOOCED JOLLY, I SHOULD SAY, TO MARRY ON £300 A-YEAR! THINK A SEE MYSELF WOCKING A CWADLE, AND FETCHING HOME THE MUTTON FROM THE BAKER!" [_Orders Glass of Dry Curaçoa_. ] [Illustration: _FAINT ATTEMPT TO CARRY OUT JONES'S IDEA._] [Illustration: _THOSE HORRID BOYS!_ _Precise Female_ (_in answer to a rude inquiry_). "YOU ARE A VERY IMPERTINENT BOY!--YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL THAT IT IS A MATTER OF NO MOMENT TO YOU WHO MY HATTER IS!"] [Illustration: _VAGARIES OF FASHION._ _Charles._ "FIGURE, INDEED! WHAT'S A FELLOW TO DO? A MAN MUST WEAR SOMETHING. HATS AND COATS ARE OUT OF THE QUESTION--THEY ARE REALLY SO VERY EFFEMINATE."] [Illustration: _NOT A QUESTION OF WEATHER._ WHEN IT IS VERY FOGGY IN LONDON, IT IS DELIGHTFUL AT BRIGHTON--AT LEAST SO CHARLES AND GEORGINA THINK.] [Illustration: _IS SMOKING INJURIOUS?_ _Youthful Swell._ "HAW! LOOK HERE! IS THAT CHEST OF CIGARS YOU IMPORTED FOR ME RIPE YET?" _Cigar Dealer._ "WELL, SIR--I FEAR NOT--THAT IS, NOT RIPE FOR YOUR TASTE, SIR, FOR AT LEAST THREE WEEKS; BUT WE CAN SPARE YOU A COUPLE OF THOUSAND OF THESE GIANT REGALIAS TO GO ON WITH TILL THE WEATHER IS MILDER, WHEN YOUR CIGARS WILL MELLOW RAPIDLY!" [_Youth accepts the generous offer, and lounges out with a Giant Regalia as big as his leg in his mouth._ ] [Illustration: _THE SHUTTLE-COCK NUISANCE._ _Little Girl._ "OH, I BEG YOUR PARDON SIR!--IT WAS THE WIND AS DONE IT!"] [Illustration: _PRUDENT RESOLVE._ _Little Party._ "GO AND WALK IN HYDE PARK? OH, AH!--I DESSAY! AND GET PELTED FOR A HARISTOCRAT?--NO THANK 'E--NOT IF I KNOW IT."] [Illustration: _A PLEASING BELIEF._ _Whipper._ "WELL, I WEAR MINE BECAUSE IT SAVES TROUBLE, AND IS SO VERY 'EALTHY." _Snapper._ "HAH, WELL THERE AIN'T NO HUMBUG ABOUT ME; I WEAR MINE BECAUSE THEY LOOKS 'ANSOM, AND GOES DOWN WITH THE GALS."] [Illustration: _RAILWAY COLLUSION--A HINT TO STATION-MASTERS._ _Porter._ "NOW, THEN, BILL! ARE YOU OFF?" _Cab Ruffian._ "NO; WHAT SORT OF FARE IS IT?" _Porter._ "SINGLE GENT, WITH SMALL BAG." _Ruffian._ "OH, _HE_ WON'T DO! CAN'T YER FIND US A OLD LADY AND TWO LITTLE GALS WITH LOTS O' BOXES? I'M GOOD FOR A PINT!"] [Illustration: _DISAGREEABLE TRUTH._ _Soldier._ "NOW, THEN! YOU MUST MOVE AWAY FROM HERE." _Rude Boy._ "AH, BUT _YOU_ MUSN'T, OLD FELLER!"] [Illustration: _OLD BROOM.--RETIRING FROM BUSINESS._ _New Broom._ "POOR JACK, YER HONOR?" _Old Broom._ "LEAVE THEM COVES ALONE, TIM; THEY'RE TWO SWELLS WHAT ALWAYS CROSSES IN A 'ANSOM--'CAUSE O' THEIR BOOTS!"] [Illustration: _ANOTHER RAILWAY MISERY._ NOW, WE DO HOPE THIS OLD GENTLEMAN IS NOT GOING TO BE ASKED TO SHOW HIS TICKET; BECAUSE THIS OLD GENTLEMAN HAS JUST PACKED HIMSELF UP QUITE COMFORTABLY, AND HIS TICKET IS IN THE VERY INNERMOST RECESS OF HIS WAISTCOAT POCKET; AND BECAUSE, YOU SEE, THIS IS JUST THE SORT OF OLD GENTLEMAN WHO IS LIKELY TO BE MUCH IRRITATED BY SUCH A REQUEST AT SUCH A TIME.] [Illustration: _INCIDENT IN A FRENCH REVOLUTION._ _Omnibus Driver._ "THIS IS ORRIBLE VURK IN PARIS, SIR. VY, THEY TELL ME THEY'VE BIN AND BURNT ALL THE BUSSES!"] [Illustration: _DWEADFUL ACCIDENT IN HIGH LIFE._ THE HONOURABLE SPENCER DAWDLE (WHOSE TOTAL ABSENCE OF MIND IS SO WELL KNOWN) HAVING MADE A MORNING CALL IN BELGRAVIA, WALKS OFF WITH A HAT AND STICK WHICH DO NOT BELONG TO HIM!] [Illustration: _THE NEW REGULATION._ _Lieutenant Blazer_ (_of the Plungers_). "GOOD GWACIOUS! HERE'S A HORWIBLE GO! INFANTWY'S GOING TO GWOW A MOUSTACHE!" _Cornet Fluffey._ "YAW DON'T MEAN THAT! WELL! THERE'S ONLY ONE ALTERNATIVE FOR US. =WE= MUST SHAVE!"] [Illustration: _A PICTURE OF ALIMENTIVENESS._ A NICE LITTLE BIT OF FISH.] [Illustration: _WHERE THERE'S A WILL, THERE'S A WAY._ _Foxhunting Doctor._ "NOT BE IN TIME! OH, NONSENSE! SEND MY HORSE ON,--SEE MY PATIENTS EARLY,--DRESS IN THE BROUGHAM,--THERE I AM!" (_and we hope he may have a good run_). [_We have been obliged to take the side of the carriage out, which perhaps the kind reader will excuse._ ] [Illustration: _PATIENCE REWARDED._ _Piscator._ "A-HAH! GOT YOU AT LAST, HAVE I?--AND A FINE WEEK'S TROUBLE I'VE HAD TO CATCH YOU!"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. X. _Servant Gal._ "I TELL YOU WHAT, COOK; WITH MY BEAUTY AND FIGGER, I AIN'T A GOIN' TO STOP IN SARVICE NO LONGER; I SHALL BE ORF TO HORSETRAYLIER."] [Illustration: _JOHN THOMAS NON-PLUSHED._ _Tax Collector._ "JOHN THOMAS MOONCALF?" _John Thomas._ "--ESQUIRE, THAT'S ME!" _Tax Collector._ "THEN BE SO GOOD AS TO FILL UP THIS INCOME-TAX PAPER AND RETURN IT TO ME BEFORE TWENTY DAYS!"] [Illustration: _EDUCATION IN THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _Jemoimer._ "BIST THOU A GOIN' TO SKULE, ELOYZA?" _Eloyza._ "NOT HI, JEMOIMER. THEY GID US TEA AND BUNS LARST WEEK, AND WE SHA'T HAN NO MOORE TILL CUM CRISMUS; SO MUTHER SAYS AS HOW IT AIN'T NO USE."] [Illustration: _UNCONSCIOUS SATIRE._ "THERE, BABY DEAR, LOOK AT THE PRETTY SOLDIERS!"] [Illustration: _AVERAGE WEIGHT OF THE FOOT GUARDS._ _Heavy Swell._ "WHAT'S THE AVERAGE WEIGHT OF THE MEN IN YOUR REGIMENT, CHARLEY?" _Swell in the Guards._ "DON'T KNOW, I'M SURE--AW--BUT TEN GO TO THE TON."] [Illustration: _THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH._ _Juvenile._ "I WONDER WHETHER THAT GURL HAS GOT ANY TIN--FOR I FEEL MOST OWDACIOUSLY INCLINED TO GO AND CUT THAT FELLOW OUT."] [Illustration: _A VISIT TO A DOG-FANCIER._] [Illustration: _TRIUMPH OF MIND OVER MATTER._ _Old Gent._ "AND PRAY WHO IS YOUR FRIEND WITH THE COFFEE POT?" _Small Boy._ "THAT? OH! HE'S MY FAG--HE GETS ME MY BREAKFAST AND SUCH LIKE, BUT I ALWAYS LEAVE HIM SOME CRUMPETS--AND _NEVER BULLY HIM_!"] [Illustration: _WHAT, INDEED?_ _Stern Parent._ "I TELL YOU, SIR, I WILL NOT ALLOW IT--AND DON'T LET ME SEE ANY MORE NASTY PIPES OR TOBACCO IN THIS HOUSE." _Young Williams._ "BOO-HOO--AND WHAT'S A FELLOW TO DO WHEN ALL THE MEN OF HIS OWN AGE SMOKE?"] [Illustration: _DID YOU EVER!_ _Friend._ "WELL, SPRAT, MY BOY--AND HOW DO YOU GET ON, NOW YOU'RE MARRIED?" _Sprat._ "H'M! PRETTY BOBBISH--BUT THERE'S ONE THING MAKES IT DOOCID UNCOMFORTABLE SOMETIMES--ENTRE NOUS--MRS. S. IS _SO CONFOUNDEDLY JEALOUS OF ME_."] [Illustration: _MORAL INFLUENCE OF EXECUTIONS._ "WHERE 'AVE WE B'N? WHY, TO SEE THE COVE 'UNG, TO BE SURE!"] ADVENTURES OF MR. TOM NODDY. [Illustration: No. I. OUR LITTLE FRIEND, TOM NODDY, THINKS THE SEA-WATER WILL DO HIS MARE'S LEGS A WORLD OF GOOD] [Illustration: No. II. THE PLAYFUL CREATURE OBJECTS AT FIRST, BUT FINDING THE PROCESS AGREEABLE, DETERMINES TO HAVE A COMPLETE BATH.] ADVENTURES OF MR. TOM NODDY. [Illustration: No. III. LANDING OF TOM NODDY. HIS HORSE HAVING HAD ENOUGH OF IT, RETURNS TO HIS STABLE.] [Illustration: _ADVENTURES OF MR. TOM NODDY._--No. IV. OUR FRIEND HAS A DAY WITH THE BROOKSIDE HARRIERS.--WITH HIS USUAL PRUDENCE HE GETS A HORSE ACCUSTOMED TO THE HILLS.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC ECONOMY._ _Newly Married Daughter_ (_whose husband's income is, if anything, decidedly limited_). "--AND SEE HERE, PAPA, DEAR, WE ARE GETTING ON SO BEAUTIFULLY WITH OUR FURNISHING! WE BOUGHT THESE LOVELY GOLD AND SILVER INDIAN ELEPHANTS AT A SALE THE OTHER DAY, AND ONLY GAVE FIFTY POUNDS FOR THEM; WASN'T IT CHEAP? WE ONLY WANT A LITTLE CRACKED CHINA TO MAKE THE ROOM QUITE COMFORTABLE!"] [Illustration: _A CAUTIOUS BIRD._ _Lobkins._ "WELL, I DON'T KNOW ABOUT MARRYIN'--FOR YER SEE, AFTER THE KNOT WAS TIED, SOME OTHER GAL MIGHT BE FALLIN' IN LOVE WITH ONE--AND THAT WOULD BE SO DOOCED AWKWARD!"] [Illustration: _FORTUNE'S FAVOURITE._ _First Snob._ "YOU KNOW THAT JOLLY LITTLE GIRL, JULIA BINKS?" _Second Snob._ "ALL RIGHT, GO AHEAD." _First Snob._ "WELL! SHE'S BEEN STICKING UP TO ME LIKE BRICKS, BUT I CAN'T RETURN HER AFFECTION, BECAUSE I'M SO DEUCED SWEET WITH THE PLANTAGENET GALS."] [Illustration: _WANTING IN REVERENCE._ _Coster_ (_to extremely genteel person_). "I SAY, GUVNER, GIVE US A HIST WITH THIS 'ERE BILIN' O' GREENS!"] [Illustration: _JEW D'ESPRIT._ _Young Sholomunsh_ (_to Young_ SNOBLEY, _who is attired in his very best_). "NOW, SIR! LET ME SHELL YOU A NISH SHUIT OF CLOSHE, MAKE YER GOOD ALLOWANCE FOR THE OLD UNS YER'VE GOT ON!" [SNOBLEY'S _feelings may be imagined_. ] [Illustration: _QUITE RIDICULOUS!_ "DO YOU BELIEVE IN TABLE-TALKING, MATILDA, THAT THERE'S SUCH A FUSS ABOUT?" "OH, DEAR NO! WHY, THE OTHER EVENING A TABLE WAS ASKED HOW OLD I WAS, AND IT RAPPED OUT FORTY! WHEN I'M NOT THREE-AND-TWENTY TILL NEXT MARCH!"] [Illustration: _MAY AND DECEMBER._] [Illustration: _A VAIN SHADOW._ "MY LOVE! DO YOU THINK THOSE FELLOWS ARE FOLLOWING US?"] [Illustration: _MIND AND MATTER._ _Navvy._ "AH, BILL! IT SHOWS THE FORRARD MARCH OF THE AGE. FUST THE BRUTE FORCE, SUCH AS 'IM; AND THEN THE LIKES OF US TO DO IT SCIENTIFIC, AND SHOW THE MIGHT OF INTELLECT."] [Illustration: _SYMPATHY._ _Tailor_ (_to considerable Customer_). "TRIFLE THINNER THAN YOU WAS, SIR! GLAD TO SEE YOU BACK, SIR! 'OPE YOU'LL SOON GET YOUR HEALTH, SIR. WHEN WE HEARD YOUR REGIMENT HAD BEEN IN ACTION, SIR,--YOU MAY FANCY WHAT OUR FEELINGS WAS, SIR!"] [Illustration: _OXFORD COSTUME._ _Small Oxford Man._ "NOW, SNIP, REMEMBER, NOT SO TIGHT IN THE ARM!" _Snip._ "VERY GOOD, SIR." (_To the Clerk._) "84 AND A 'ARF!"] [Illustration: _STARTLING FACT!_ _Oxford Swell._ "DO YOU MAKE MANY OF THESE MONKEY-JACKETS, NOW?" _Snip._ "OH, DEAR YES, SIR; THERE ARE MORE MONKEYS IN OXFORD THIS TERM THAN EVER, SIR."] [Illustration: _CUPID AT SEA._ _Angelina_ (_to Edwin, whose only chance is perfect tranquillity_). "EDWIN, DEAR! IF YOU LOVE ME, GO DOWN INTO THE CABIN, AND FETCH ME MY SCENT-BOTTLE, AND ANOTHER SHAWL TO PUT OVER MY FEET!" [EDWIN'S _sensations are more easily imagined than described_. ] [Illustration: _HOW VERY EMBARRASSING!_ _Gustavus._ "MAMMA, DEAR! ARE MOUSTACHES FASHIONABLE?" _Mamma._ "WELL, GUS. I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY, BUT I BELIEVE THEY ARE." _Gus._ "OH! THEN, IS THAT THE REASON WHY MISS GRUMPH WEARS 'EM?" [MISS GRUMPH, _as well as being strong-minded, is rather masculine in appearance_. ] [Illustration: _AN ELIGIBLE PARTY._ _Juvenile._ "WELL, I KNOW WHAT I SHALL DO: I SHALL LOOK OUT FOR SOME OLD GAL WITH PLENTY OF MONEY."] [Illustration: _VERY RUDE, INDEED!_ ENTER TOM (A DISAGREEABLE BOY FROM SCHOOL.)--_Tom._ "LOOK HERE, CLARA, THERE'S A YOUNG WOMAN DOWNSTAIRS HAS BROUGHT THIS FOR YOU, AND WANTS TO KNOW IF IT WILL DO."] [Illustration: _A MAN OF CONSEQUENCE._ _Cousin Harriet._ "WELL, ALFRED, WILL YOU STOP AND HAVE SOME TEA WITH US?" _Alfred._ "HAW! YOU'RE VERY GOOD, I'M SURE; BUT I'VE GOT TO TAKE THE CHILDREN TO SEE THE PANTOMIME!"] [Illustration: _UNDER THE MISTLETOE._ AUGUSTUS THINKS CRINOLINE A DETESTABLE INVENTION.] [Illustration: _THE HUSBAND AS HE OUGHT TO BE_ _Angelina._ "WELL, LOVE, HOW DO YOU THINK I LOOK?--DO YOU LIKE THE DRESS?" _Edwin._ "I THINK IT'S PERFECTLY CHARMING.--I NEVER SAW YOU LOOK BETTER!"] _AND_ [Illustration _AND AS HE OUGHT NOT TO BE._ (_Isn't it so, my Dears?_) _Angelina._ "WELL, E.,--YOU DON'T SAY A WORD ABOUT MY DRESS?" _Edwin._ "EM, WHAT? OH, UGH!--H'M--BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL!"] [Illustration: _AS WELL BE OUT OF THE WORLD AS OUT OF THE FASHION._ _Old Gentleman_ (_who is of course much behind his age_). "WELL, MY LITTLE DEAR, AND PRAY WHAT NICE LITTLE GIRL ARE YOU?" _Little Girl._ "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, I'M A PUSEYITE, AND SO'S BESSY 'ARRIS." (_To Young Lady._) "AIN'T WE, MEM?"] [Illustration: _ASSURANCE._ _Juvenile_. "AW, HAIRDRESSER, WHEN YOU'VE FINISHED MY HAIR, JUST TAKE OFF MY BEARD, WILL YOU?"] [Illustration: _THE NEW THEATRE._ _Constance_ (_reads advertisement to Alice_). "'* * * _The Orchestra Stalls will be exceedingly commodious. Each person will have a separate Arm-Chair, occupying a space of two feet in breadth._' H'M--I DON'T SEE THAT THAT'S SO EXCEEDINGLY COMMODIOUS--EH, DEAR?"] [Illustration: _AN AGREEABLE PRESCRIPTION._ "THE WEATHER IS CHARMING, ALTHOUGH I DO NOT FEEL MUCH INCLINED FOR TRANSACTIONS OF A BUSINESS NATURE. I AM DECIDEDLY BETTER. MY DOCTOR, A MOST SENSIBLE MAN, RECOMMENDS ME TO TAKE HORSE EXERCISE, AND GO INTO AGREEABLE SOCIETY. I ENDEAVOUR TO CARRY OUT HIS SUGGESTIONS."--_Scarborough._] [Illustration: _SIGHING FOR THE SUNNY SOUTH._ _Omnibus Driver._ "I DON'T LIKE BEING A HABSENTEE, JEM; BUT IF THIS PRECIOUS EASTERLY VIND LASTS MUCH LONGER, I SHALL BE HOFF WITH MY FAMILY TO THE SOUTH OF FRANCE."] [Illustration: _AFFECTING--RATHER._ _Alfred._ "TELL ME, MY OWN ONE, IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE TO SAY BEFORE I GO?" _Emma._ "YES, DEAREST--DO NOT--OH, DO NOT FORGET TO BRING THE-TH-TH-BRUNSWICK SAUSAGE FROM F-F-F-FORT-NUM AND MASON'S."] [Illustration: _A PREJUDICED OPINION._ "I TELL YER WHAT, BILL, I THINK THE POLICE ARE A BAD LOT--AND I WISH THEY WAS DONE AWAY WITH ALTOGETHER."] [Illustration: _A GOLDEN RULE._ "LET US SPEAK OF A MAN AS WE FIND HIM."] [Illustration: _A DELICATE HINT._ _Brighton Boatman._ "THERE'S A WESSEL OUT THERE, SIR, A LABOURIN' A GOOD DEAL, SIR! AH, SIR, SAILORS WORKS WERRY 'ARD--PRECIOUS 'ARD LINES IT IS FOR THE POOR FELLERS OUT THERE!--PRECIOUS 'ARD IT IS FOR EVERYBODY JUST NOW. I KNOW _I_ SHOULD LIKE THE PRICE OF A PINT O' BEER AND A BIT O' BACCA!"] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ _Railway Official_ (_waking Old Gent from a sweet sleep_). "TICKETS, PLEASE!"] [Illustration: _BY THE SAD SEA WAVES._ TOMKINS, DISCONSOLATE ON A ROCK, TRACES SOME CHARACTERS UPON THE SAND. TO HIM, MRS. TOMKINS (WHOSE NAME IS MARTHA). _Mrs. T._ "WELL, MR. TOMKINS, AND PRAY WHO MAY HENRIETTA BE?" [TOMKINS _utters a yell of despair, and falls prostrate_. ] [Illustration: _SCHOLASTIC._ _Mother._ "AND, PRAY, DOCTOR, WHAT ARE YOUR TERMS FOR HEDUCATING LITTLE BOYS?" _The Principal._ "WHY, MY DEAR MADAM, MY USUAL TERMS ARE SEVENTY GUINEAS _PER ANNUM_ (TO USE THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANCIENT ROMANS), BUT TO EFFECT MY OBJECT (?) QUICKLY, I WOULD TAKE A FEW FOR WHAT I COULD GET, PROVIDED THEY BE =GENTLEMEN=, LIKE YOUR DEAR LITTLE BOY THERE; BUT (AGAIN TO USE THE LATIN TONGUE) IT IS A _SINE QUA NON_ THAT THEY SHOULD BE =GENTLEMEN=!!" [Illustration: _QUEEN OF THE MAY._] [Illustration: _A PERFECT WRETCH._ _Wife._ "WHY, DEAR ME, WILLIAM; HOW TIME FLIES! I DECLARE WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED TEN YEARS TO-DAY!" _Wretch._ "HAVE WE, LOVE! I AM SURE I THOUGHT IT HAD BEEN A GREAT DEAL LONGER."] [Illustration: _AN ENGLISH NOBLEMAN, PAINTED BY THE FRENCH._ _Milord._ "GODAM! ROSBIF! I SHALL SELL MY WIFE AT SMITHFIELD, DAM!"] [Illustration: _A STORM IN A TEACUP._ _Head Nurse_ (_with much dignity_). "MISS MARY! YOU SHALL NOT STIR YOUR TEA WITH THE SNUFFERS!--IT IS NOT LADY-LIKE, AND I AM QUITE SURE YOUR PAPA WOULD NOT APPROVE OF IT!" [MISS MARY _howls awfully, and smashes tea-cup_. ] [Illustration: _WAITING FOR THE CARRIAGE._ _Charlie._ "THIS WILL BE A STUPID AFFAIR, GEORGY." _Georgy._ "OH! YES--ONLY A WHITE FROCK AND BLACK MITTEN PARTY--VERY SLOW!" [_Old Nurse wonders what next._ ] [Illustration: _WORKING AGAINST TIME._ THE ARTIST GIVES THE FINISHING TOUCH TO HIS PICTURE. HE HAS BEEN SO BUSY THAT HE HAS NOT EVEN BEEN ABLE TO GET HIS HAIR CUT [Illustration: _KETCHEE! KETCHEE!_ MR. PUNCH IN THE BOSOM OF HIS FAMILY.] [Illustration: _DID YOU EVER!_ _Augustus._ "I SAY, AUNT! DID YOU SEE WHAT THE NEWSPAPER SAYS ABOUT THE ECLIPSE?" _Aunt._ "NO! WHAT DOES IT SAY? READ IT, CHILD! ANYTHING RELATING TO THAT WONDERFUL EVENT IS INTERESTING." _Augustus._ "WHY, IT SAYS THAT IT IS EXPECTED TO HAVE AN EXTRAORDINARY EFFECT UPON THE INFERIOR ANIMALS! MY WIG! I'D HAVE YOU AND THE GIRLS LOOK OUT FOR SQUALLS!" [_Disgusting, Low-Minded Boy._ ] [Illustration: _FUMIGATION._ _Coster._ "'SCUSE ME, MARM, BUT DID YER WANT YER GREEN-'OUSE SMOKED?--NO CHARGE. ONLY TO FIND THE 'BACCA, AND A DROP O' SUMTHIN' TO DRINK!"] [Illustration: _WARBLERS UNDER WATER._] [Illustration: _OH DEAR!_ THAT REGULAR FAMILY NEXT DOOR ARE HAVING THEIR CHIMNEY SWEPT AGAIN.] [Illustration: _EARLY PHILOSOPHY._ _Juvenile._ "AH, IT'S ALL VERY WELL! LOVE MAY DO FOR BOYS AND GALS; BUT WE, AS MEN OF THE WORLD, KNOW 'OW 'OLLOW IT IS."] [Illustration: _OUT OF HIS ELEMENT._ _Flunkey_ (_who does not approve of Bloomsbury_). "NO, MA'AM, I DON'T OBJEC' TO THE 'OUSE, FOR IT'S HAIREY, AND THE VITTLES IS GOOD; BUT THE FACT IS THAT ALL MY CONNEXIONS LIVE IN BELGRAVIA!"] [Illustration: _TOO BAD!_ _Bertha._ "NOW, REALLY, CHARLES, YOU ARE VERY PROVOKING. I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR MY HAT EVERYWHERE--AND I DECLARE YOU ARE SITTING UPON IT."] [Illustration: _A VICTIM OF FASHION._ _Police Constable_ (_to Boy_). "NOW THEN, OFF WITH THAT HOOP! OR I'LL PRECIOUS SOON HELP YOU!" _Lady_ (_who imagines the observation is addressed to her_). "WHAT A MONSTER!" [_Lifts up the Crinoline, and hurries off._ ] THE BRITISH FORCES AND THE CRIMEAN WAR. [Illustration: _PREPARATIONS FOR WAR._--I. _Officer_ (_who is going to the East_). "OF COURSE, IT'S RATHER A BORE JUST AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEASON--AND I SHALL MISS THE DERBY! WISH THEY COULD HAVE HAD THE RUSSIANS OVER HERE, BECAUSE THEN WE COULD HAVE THRASHED 'EM IN HYDE PARK, AND DINED AT GREENWICH AFTERWARDS, YOU KNOW."] [Illustration: _PREPARATIONS FOR WAR._--II. ENSIGN STUBBS, HAVING BEEN APPOINTED TO THE 121ST, GOES TO TRY ON HIS UNIFORM. _N.B.--The Gallant Ensign has hitherto been accustomed to dress in a loose, dégagé manner._] [Illustration: _WELL INTENDED, NO DOUBT._ _Quaker to British Lion._ "THERE, FRIEND! NOW LET ME PUT AWAY THOSE DANGEROUS VANITIES!"] [Illustration: _PREPARATIONS FOR WAR._--III. DELIGHT OF ONE OF OUR GUARDS NOW HE FEELS THAT THE COUNTRY WILL PROTECT "THE GIRL HE LEAVES BEHIND HIM."] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE FORETHOUGHT._ _Captain_ (_to Brother Officer_). "WHAT AM I ABOUT? I'LL TELL YOU, OLD BOY. THERE'S NO KNOWING WHAT MAY HAPPEN, SO I AM LEARNING THE NOBLE ART OF MAKING OMELETTES, IN CASE ANYTHING SHOULD HAPPEN TO OUR CHEF!"] [Illustration: _NO! DON'T._ "SO THEY ARE SENDING OUT BOOKS TO AMUSE THE POOR FELLOWS AT SCUTARI--AND VERY PROPER. I WILL SEND FIVE-AND-TWENTY COPIES OF MY LAST FIVE-ACT TRAGEDY OF 'THE ROMAN GRANDMOTHER."] [Illustration: _ENTHUSIASM._ _Inflamed Militia Man._ "TALK O' TH' ROOSHANS! THERE! DANG'D IF I WOULDN'T MOW 'EM DOWN FOR A SHILLIN' AN ACRE!"] [Illustration: _ON DOMESTIC SERVICE._ _Recruiting Sergeant._ "COME, TAKE THE SHILLING LIKE A MAN, AND HAVE A TURN AT THE RUSSIANS IN THE CRIMEA." _Pampered Menial._ "A--THANK YOU. I DON'T SEEM TO SEE IT. THE FACT IS--THAT--A--THE WORK IS 'ARD; AND--A--THE BOARD IS BAD."] [Illustration: _A LITTLE DINNER AT THE CRIMEA CLUB._] [Illustration: _EVENING PARTY AT SEBASTOPOL._] [Illustration: _PATIENT HEROES._ "WELL, JACK! HERE'S GOOD NEWS FROM HOME. WE'RE TO HAVE A MEDAL." "THAT'S VERY KIND. MAYBE ONE OF THESE DAYS WE'LL HAVE A COAT TO STICK IT ON!"] [Illustration: _HOW JACK MADE THE TURK USEFUL AT BALACLAVA._ _British Officer._ "HOLLOA, JACK! WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT NOW?" _Jack._ "WHY, YER HONOUR--YOU SEE RIDING'S A DEAL PLEASANTER THAN WALKING ABOUT HERE, AND WHEN THIS CHAP'S TIRED--I MOUNTS T'OTHER COVE!"] [Illustration: _A TRUMP CARD(IGAN)._ THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE UNDER LORD CARDIGAN AGAINST THE RUSSIAN BATTERIES AT BALACLAVA.] [Illustration: _SHARP'S THE WORD._ ADMIRAL PUNCH'S SIGNAL TO THE FLEET.] [Illustration: _UNIFORM STUPIDITY._ HOW TO DRESS A WARRIOR.] [Illustration: _HARD CASE IN THE BALTIC._ _A. B. Seaman._ "HERE'S A GO, BILL! YER MIGHT KNOCK ME DOWN WITH THE BUTT-END OF A MUSKIT, A'MOST! BLOW'D IF THE GAME AIN'T OVER, AND WE AIN'T HAD NO INNINGS!"] [Illustration: _A GRIEVANCE._ "I TELL YER WHAT, BILL! I DON'T HALF LIKE THESE HERE MOUSTARCHERS. THEY DO MOP UP SUCH A LOT OF GROG!"] [Illustration: _RELICS OF THE SIEGE._ _Ben._ "I SAY, JACK!--GIVE US A LIFT DOWN WITH THESE HERE _BLOOD-STAINED RUINS_ FROM SEBASTERPOOL!"] [Illustration: _OUR GUARDS._ THEY CAN PLAY; AND, BY JOVE, THEY CAN FIGHT, TOO.] [Illustration: _TRAINING-SCHOOL FOR LADIES_] [Illustration: _ABOUT TO APPEAR AT COURT._] [Illustration: _THE OPERA._--No. I. _Lizzy._ "GOOD GRACIOUS SELINA! LOOK THERE! THERE'S THAT RIDICULOUS LITTLE MAN AGAIN. DID YOU EVER SEE ANYTHING SO ABSURD?"] [Illustration: _THE OPERA._--No. II. _Busby_. "AH THERE SHE IS, BLESS HER! AND LOOKING THIS WAY TOO. OH! IT'S AS CLEAR AS POSSIBLE SHE HAS TAKEN A FANCY TO ME!"] [Illustration: _THE BEST RUN OF THE SEASON._--No. I. _Master_ (_with pumped-out Horse_). "CONFOUND THAT RASCALLY BOY! WHERE CAN HE HAVE GOT TO WITH MY SECOND HORSE?"] [Illustration: _THE BEST RUN OF THE SEASON._--No. II. _Rascally Boy_ (_with delightfully fresh animal_). "OH, DEAR! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL THING! _I WONDER WHERE MASTER CAN BE?_"] [Illustration: _A BLACK INDIGNITY._ _Lady of the House._ "OH, THOMAS! HAVE THE GOODNESS TO TAKE UP SOME COALS INTO THE NURSERY!" _Thomas._ "H'M, MA'AM! IF YOU ASK IT AS A FAVOUR, MA'AM, I DON'T SO MUCH OBJECT; BUT I 'OPE YOU DON'T TAKE ME FOR AN 'OUSEMAID, MA'AM!"] [Illustration: _ART-PROGRESS._ _Artist(!)._ "NOW, MUM! TAKE ORF YER 'EAD FOR SIXPENCE, OR YER 'OLE BODY FOR A SHILLIN'!"] [Illustration: _FRATERNITY._ _Fred._ (_affectionately taking the arm of his friend_ HARRY--_as he thinks_). "OH! DO LOOK AT THESE BEAUTIFUL DIAMONDS. HOW WELL THEY WOULD BECOME YOUR SWEET SISTER!" _Coal-heaver._ "COME NOW! WALKER!"] [Illustration: _PRIVATE OPINION._ _Little Shrimpton._ "HAH! THEY MAY LAUGH! BUT I MEAN TO SAY THAT THE BEARD IS A GREAT ORNAMENT, AND GIVES DIGNITY TO THE HUMAN FIGURE!"] [Illustration: _THE OLD OLD STORY._ IT WAS IN AUGUST OR SEPTEMBER, WE FORGET WHICH, THAT AMELIA'S SCARF CAUGHT HENRY'S BUTTON, AND NOW--THEY ARE MARRIED. WASN'T IT ODD?] [Illustration: _THE BEARD MOVEMENT._ "HOLLO, 'ENERY! IS THAT YOU? WHY I HARDLY KNOW'D YER WITH THAT GREAT BEARD!"] [Illustration: _VARIETIES IN HORSE-TAMING._--No. I. OLD MR. B. HAS FOUND OUT THAT THE OIL OF RHODIUM SYSTEM IS ALL NONSENSE, AND HAS BEEN INITIATED BY MR. RAREY. WHENEVER HE GETS SPILT, AND LOSES HIS HAT (AS HE DID THE VERY LAST DAY OF THE SEASON), HE JUST SAYS TO HIS HORSE, "FETCH IT, OLD BOY!" AND THE THING IS DONE!] [Illustration: _VARIETIES IN HORSE-TAMING._--No. II. OUR DEAR OLD FRIEND BRIGGS--HAVING TAKEN THE RECEIPT FOR HORSE-TAMING FROM THE PAPERS--TRIES SOME EXPERIMENTS UPON AN ANIMAL THAT HE HAS PICKED UP A BARGAIN.] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT OF WEIGHT._ _Cabby._ "LET YER OUT?--THAT'S A GOOD UN!--NOT AFORE YOU PAYS FOR BREAKING MY SPRINGS!"] [Illustration: _ASTOUNDING ANNOUNCEMENT._ _Maid._ "PLEASE, MA'AM, MR. SKEWER SAYS HE'S A-GOING TO KILL _HISSELF_ THIS WEEK, AND WILL YOU HAVE A JOINT?"] [Illustration: _A VERY SHOCKING BOY, INDEED!_ _Mamma._ "NOW, SIR--IF YOU DON'T BEHAVE BETTER, I WILL TELL PAPA OF YOU, AND HE WILL BOX YOUR EARS!" _Shocking Boy._ "WELL, THEN, GO! MARCH!! AND SHUT THE DOOR AFTER YOU!!!"] [Illustration: _A FADED YOUTH._ _Hostess._ "NOW, MY DEAR--WILL YOU COME AND DANCE A QUADRILLE?" _Juvenile._ "THA-A-NK YOU--IT'S SO MANY YEARS AGO SINCE I DANCED, THAT I WOULD RATHER BE EXCUSED, IF YOU PLEASE. IN FACT, I--AW, I HAVEN'T DANCED SINCE I WAS QUITE A BOY."] [Illustration: _IN THE PARK._ _First Man_ (_Home for the Holidays_). "AWFUL BIT OF GERANIUM THAT, CHARLEY!" _Second Ditto._ "YA-AS, I WAS ALWAYS VERY FOND OF FLOWERS--AW--THEY LOOK SO JOLLY INNOCENT!"] [Illustration: _IN THE STREETS._ THESE YOUNG GENTLEMEN ARE NOT INDULGING IN THE FILTHY HABIT OF SMOKING.--THEY ARE ONLY CHEWING TOOTHPICKS, THE COMFORTING AND ELEGANT PRACTICE NOW SO MUCH IN VOGUE.] [Illustration: _CRINOLINE AGAIN._ _Charles._ "CONFOUND THE HOOPS, JUST WHEN I WANT TO MAKE MY NEAT SPEECH ABOUT BEING '_NEARER AND DEARER_' TOO!"] [Illustration: _A HINT TO MAMMAS._ _First Nursemaid._ "LAWK, MARIER! WHAT A BEE-UTIFLE GOWND!" _Second Do._ "MY! JANE! HAIN'T IT?" [ _They contemplate the Gownd for about a quarter of an hour, and the Children have the full benefit of the delicious North-East Wind._ ] [Illustration: _THE ROUND HAT._ 1. WHEN IT IS ALL VERY WELL. 2. WHEN IT IS OBJECTIONABLE. 3. WHEN THE POLICE OUGHT TO INTERFERE.] [Illustration: _TAKING IT EASY._ JOHN THOMAS, AS HE APPEARED WHILE HIS MISSUS WAS IN THE BOTANICAL GARDENS. J. T. IS CONSULTING HIS BETTING BOOK. (A POSITIVE FACT.)] [Illustration: _PROFESSIONAL DIGNITY._ _Lady._ "RESIGN YOUR SITUATION! WHY, WHAT'S WRONG NOW, THOMAS? HAVE THEY BEEN WANTING YOU TO EAT SALT BUTTER AGAIN?" _Genteel Footman._ "OH, NO, THANK YOU, MA'AM--BUT THE FACT IS, MA'AM--THAT I HAVE HEARD THAT MASTER WERE SEEN LAST WEEK ON THE TOP OF A HOMNIBUS, AND I COULDN'T AFTER THAT REMAIN ANY LONGER IN THE FAMILY!"] [Illustration: _NEVER CARRY YOUR GLOVES IN YOUR HAT._ MR. POFFINGTON FLATTERS HIMSELF HE IS CREATING A SENSATION--(_Perhaps he is._)] [Illustration: _ACADEMIC COSTUME._ _Dr. Bear._ "PUT ON YOUR GOWN, SIR." _Undergraduate._ "GOT IT ON, SIR!"] [Illustration: _MORE NOVELTY._ THE MISSES WEASEL THINK CRINOLINE A PREPOSTEROUS AND EXTRAVAGANT INVENTION, AND APPEAR AT MRS. ROUNDABOUT'S PARTY IN A SIMPLE AND ELEGANT ATTIRE.] [Illustration: _FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS._ "MARTHA, WAST 'E DONE WI' THE MILK?" "GEEN IT TO THE SHILD." "DANG THE SHILD, THEE SHOULD HA' GEEN IT TO TH' BULL PUP!"] [Illustration: _A DISTURBER OF PUBLIC PEACE._ _Rioter._ "I SAY, OLD FELLER, OF COURSE YOU'LL FRATERNISE WITH US, AND COME AND BREAK SOME VINDERS." _Soldier._ "OF COURSE I WON'T; BUT I'LL PUNCH YOUR HEAD IF YOU DONT MOVE OFF."] [Illustration: _UNLUCKY THIS TIME._ _Ingenious Youth._ "OH! SUCH A LARK, BILL! I'VE BIN AND FILLED AN OLD COVE'S LETTER-BOX WITH GOOSEBERRY SKINS AND HOYSTER SHELLS,--AND RAPPED LIKE A POSTMAN!" _Old Cove._ "_HAVE_ YOU?"] [Illustration: _GOOD NEWS._ "WELL, JIM, HAVE YOU HEARD THE LATEST INTELLIGENCE?" "NO, VAT IS IT?" "VY, COMMON GARDEN THEAYTER'S TO BE TURNED INTO A HOPERA FOR THE MILLION! AIN'T THAT PRIME?"] [Illustration: _RATHER DEEP!_ _Cousin._ "CHARLIE!--JUST FANCY WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING!" _Captain Charlie._ "WELL, GEORGIE!" _Cousin._ "THAT--THAT--YOU AND I ARE GOING--A--A--TO BE--MARRIED!" _Charlie_ (_with presence of mind_). "A--NEVER MIND, GEORGIE,--WE KNOW BETTER--WE ARE NOT SO FOOLISH!"] [Illustration: _AMPLE PROTECTION._ _Youth._ "YOU NEEDN'T BE AFRAID, MA'AM. STAND BEHIND ME!"] [Illustration: _JUST LIKE 'EM._ _Mamma_ (_staying with newly-married daughter_). "MY DEAREST, SWEETEST DARLING! WHAT! CRYING! WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER?" _Daughter_ (_with many sobs_). "OH, M-M-M-MAMMA DEAR! HERE'S CH-CH-CH-CHARLES SO DREADFULLY UNKIND. HE KNOWS THE H-H-HORSE-TAMING SECRET, AND HE W-W-W-WON'T TELL IT TO ME!"] [Illustration: _RIVAL JOCKEYS._ _Bill_ (_reads_). "'GENTLEMEN RIDERS ALLOWED FIVE POUNDS.'" _Tom._ "'ALLOWED FIVE POUNDS!' WHY, I'D RIDE BETTER NOR HE FOR 'ARF A CROWN!"] [Illustration: _SYMPTOMS OF HARD READING!_ _Student._ "OH, MARY! HAVE YOU TAKEN UP THE LAMP AND THE CIGARS?" _Mary._ "YES, SIR." _Student._ "--AND THE WHISKEY, AND THE SUGAR, AND THE LEMON, AND BOILING WATER?" _Mary._ "YES, SIR." _Student._ "THEN COME, JACK! SUPPOSE WE GO INTO THE STUDY!"] [Illustration: _REPELLING FOREIGN INVASION._ PATERFAMILIAS TRIES THE COLD WATER CURE IN A CASE OF ORGAN-GRINDING.] [Illustration: _ANOTHER BIT FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _First Collier._ "SURREY, DUST THEE KNOW THE BISHOP'S COMING TO-MORROW?" _Second Do._ "WOT'S THAT?" _First Do._ (_emphatically_). "THE BISHOP!" _Second Do._ "OI DON'T KNOW WHAT THEE MEAN'ST, BUT MOY BITCH, ROSE, SHALL PIN HER!"] [Illustration: _CANINE._ "BUY A LITTLE DORG, MARM?"] [Illustration: _WHERE ARE THE POLICE?_ A SKETCH, SHOWING THE DECENT MANNER IN WHICH THE "FORM OF PRAYER" WAS RETAILED ON THE FAST DAY.] [Illustration: _COARSE, BUT CHARACTERISTIC._ _Cabman_ (_whose temper has been ruffled by Omnibus-man_). "YOU!! WHY, YOU HUNGRY LOOKING WAGABUN, YOU LOOK AS IF YOU'D BIN LOCKED UP FOR A MONTH IN A COOK'S SHOP WITH A MUZZLE ON."] [Illustration: _THE GREAT BOON._ _Superior Being (!)._ "YOU'LL PLEASE TO OBSERVE, MUM, THAT A DIWORCE IS A MUCH EASIER MATTER THAN IT USED TO BE--SO NONE OF YOUR VIOLENCE!"] [Illustration: _A VISION OF THE PAST._ _Old Lady._ "AH! I WAS JUST SUCH ANOTHER WHEN I WAS HER AGE."] [Illustration: _FOLLY AND INNOCENCE._ _Charles._ "I SAY, CLARA, AIN'T IT JOLLY? I'VE MADE SUCH A CAPITAL BOOK ON THE DERBY!" _Clara._ "I AM SURE, CHARLES, I AM DELIGHTED TO HEAR IT. ANY LITERARY PURSUIT MUST BE BETTER THAN THE HORRID PRACTICE YOU WERE GETTING INTO OF BETTING AT RACES!"] [Illustration: _IRRESISTIBLE._ _John Thomas._ "GET AWAY, BOY--GET AWAY, BOY!" _Boy._ "SHAN'T! AND IF YER DON'T LET ME RIDE, I'LL SEND THIS 'ERE MUD OVER YER CALVES!"] [Illustration: _DRAWING THE LINE._ _Plush Adonis._ "I SHOULD OBSERVE, MY LADY,--THAT IF YOU ENGAGE ME, I SHOULD REQUIRE TO BE AT LEAST SIX MONTHS IN TOWN, IN A GOOD NEIGHBOURHOOD--AND THAT IF YOU SHOULD AT ANY TIME LIVE NORTH OF THE NEW ROAD, I SHOULD EXPECT FIVE GUINEAS PER ANNUM INCREASE OF SALARY!" [_Fact._ ] [Illustration: _YIELDING TO TEMPTATION._ _Mr. Hobble-de-Hoye._ "I'M VERY FOND OF 'EM--THERE'S NO ONE LOOKING!--DON'T SEE WHY I SHOULDN'T--I WILL!--YES--I'LL HAVE A PENN'ORTH!]" [Illustration: _MUCH ABOVE THAT SORT OF THING._] [Illustration: _SERVE HIM RIGHT._ _Swell_ (_who, when he is asked to dine at half-past six, thinks it fine to come at half-past eight_). "HAW! I'M AFRAID YOU'VE BEEN WAITING DINNAW FOR ME!" _Lady of the House._ "OH DEAR, NO! WE HAVE DINED SOME TIME; WILL YOU TAKE SOME TEA?"] [Illustration: _PHYSICAL EDUCATION._] [Illustration: _A CONSULTATION._ _Veterinary Surgeon._ "LEGS QUEER, SIR! DO YOU 'ACK 'IM OR 'UNT 'IM?" _Proprietor of Quadruped._ "I HUNT HIM SOMETIMES, BUT I MOSTLY USE HIM AS A HACK." _Veterinary Surgeon._ "AH, SIR, THAT'S WHERE IT IS. IT AIN'T THE 'UNTING AS 'URTS 'IM, IT'S THE 'AMMER, 'AMMER, 'AMMER ALONG THE 'ARD 'IGH ROAD!"] [Illustration: _THE STREET ACROBAT NUISANCE._ UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HE IS UNOBSERVED, MR. PUDDLE OFFERS HIS HAND AND HEART TO THE OBJECT OF HIS AFFECTIONS.] [Illustration: _PHOTOGRAPHIC BEAUTIES._ "I SAY, MISTER, HERE'S ME AND MY MATE WANTS OUR FOTERGRUFFS TOOK; AND MIND, WE WANTS 'EM 'ANSOM, COS THEY'RE TO GIVE TO TWO LADIES."] [Illustration: _EQUINE._ _Dealer._ "THERE! I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO FIND A FAULT WITH HIM!" _Customer._ "BUT HE'S GOT SUCH A BEASTLY TAIL!" _Dealer._ "BEASTLY TAIL! THERE NEVER WAS A BAD RAT-TAILED 'OSS. WHY, _WE GO MILES TO FIND 'EM_!"] [Illustration: _PLEASING PROSPECT._ _Friend from Town._ "WELL! AND HOW'S THE MARE?" _Country Friend._ "OH! ALL RIGHT, OLD BOY! SHE WILL BE AS FRESH AS PAINT FOR YOU TO-MORROW, FOR SHE HASN'T BEEN HUNTED SINCE THE DAY SHE PUT FRANK RAILER'S SHOULDER OUT!"] [Illustration: _WHY NOT?_ THE GREAT MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT.--FAIR PLAY FOR THE BAKER.] [Illustration: _A STARTLING NOVELTY IN SHIRTS._] [Illustration: _AN OBJECT OF UNIVERSAL SYMPATHY._ MR. PEEWIT HAS A LITTLE ADDITION TO HIS FAMILY--HE IS OBLIGED TO GET HIS MEALS ANYHOW-- AND-- ABDICATES IN FAVOUR OF THE _REAL_ MASTER OF THE HOUSE.] [Illustration: _A HINT TO THE AUTHORITIES._ AN ECONOMICAL MODE OF PUTTING TROOPS INTO WHITE TROUSERS.] [Illustration: _DELUSIVE NOTION._ THE YOUNG GENT WHO IS GOING TO MAKE A RAPID FORTUNE BY BETTING.] [Illustration: _A SCENE AT A RAILWAY STATION._ _Groom._ "BEG PARDON, SIR,--BUT WOS YOUR NAME TOMKINS?" _Tomkins._ "YES!" _Groom._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, MASTER SAYS HE WOS WERRY SORRY AS HE COULDN'T SEND THE FEEATON--BUT, AS HIS YOUNG 'OSS WANTED EXERCISE, HE THOUGHT YOU WOULDN'T MIND RIDIN' OF 'IM." [TOMKINS _bursts into a cold perspiration._ ] [Illustration: _THE UNFITNESS OF THINGS._ _Impudent Boy._ "I SAY, BILL! COME AND SEE THE CONJURING--HERE'S THIS HERE GAL A GOIN' TO SQUEEZE HERSELF INTO THAT THERE BROOM!"] [Illustration: _PLEASANT FOR "CHARLES DEAR."_ _Married Sister._ "OH, CHARLES DEAR! NURSE IS NOT VERY WELL, AND AS I MUST STAY WITH BABY, WOULD YOU TAKE FREDDY AND THE TWO LITTLE ONES FOR A WALK, ONLY CARRY THEM OVER THE CROSSINGS, THAT'S A DEAR!"] [Illustration: _TOO MUCH!_ _Party_ (_who hates bad music in the middle of the night_). "WH-A-T!! THE WAITS! CALLED FOR A CHRISTMAS BOX!--STOP A BIT!!"---- [_The rest is too terrible._ ] [Illustration: _MARRY ON £300 A-YEAR!_ _Passer-by_ (_to the Crossing-Sweeper_). "WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT?" _Sweeper._ "WELL, SIR, I BELIEVE IT'S A KIND OF WEDDING; BUT IT AIN'T LIKELY TO BE AN 'APPY UNION--ONLY TWO BROUGHAMS AND A HACK CAB!"] [Illustration: _AN OBJECT OF SINCERE PITY._] [Illustration: _OFFENDED DIGNITY._ _Small Swell_ (_who has just finished a Quadrille_). "H'M, THANK GOODNESS, THAT'S OVER! DON'T GIVE ME YOUR BREAD-AND-BUTTER MISSES TO DANCE WITH. I LIKE YOUR GROWN WOMEN OF THE WORLD!"--(_N.B. The bread-and-butter Miss has asked him how old he was, and when he went back to School._)] [Illustration: _VERY LARGE NOTIONS._ _Man of the World._ "WHAT RUBBISH ALL THIS IS ABOUT MARRYING ON £300 A-YEAR! WHY, IT AIN'T ENOUGH TO BUY A FELLAH CIGARS!"] [Illustration: _AN UNWELCOME VISITOR._ TALK OF A MAD DOG, INDEED!--WHAT'S THAT TO A WET ISLE OF SKYE TERRIER UNDER THE BREAKFAST TABLE ON A HUNTING MORNING, AMONGST THE NICE CLEAN TOPS AND BUCKSKINS? [_A Favourite Lawn Meet--and not a moment to spare._ ] [Illustration: _JUVENILE WISDOM._ _Florence._ "----AND HOW OLD IS YOUR PONY, FRED?" _Fred._ "WELL, I DON'T KNOW, EXACTLY--BUT ROBERT THINKS HE IS ABOUT FOURTEEN YEARS!" _Florence._ "OH!--THEN I SUPPOSE HE WILL VERY SOON BE A HORSE!"] [Illustration: _SNOWED UP._ POOR FELLOWS! THEY CAN'T GET ANY HUNTING, AND ARE OBLIGED TO PLAY AT SCRATCH CRADLE WITH THEIR COUSINS.] [Illustration: _A WEIGHTY MATTER._ _Frederic_ (_a very big boy_). "THAT'S A NICEISH PONY OF YOURS, CHARLEY.--BY THE BYE, HOW HEAVY ARE YOU?" _Charley._ "WELL, WITHIN A POUND OF THREE STONE, I'M SORRY TO SAY." _Frederic._ "OH, I CALL THAT A NICE WEIGHT. NOW, I'M OBLIGED TO HAVE VERY EXPENSIVE PONIES, FOR, WITH SADDLE AND BRIDLE, I DON'T RIDE LESS THAN FOUR STONE TWO!"] [Illustration: _A GOOD LIVER._ _Frank._ "I SAY, GRANDPA! HAVEN'T YOU GOT SOME CHAPS COMING TO GRUB WITH YOU TO-DAY?" _Grandpa._ "EH! WHAT? SOME GENTLEMEN ARE COMING TO DINE WITH ME TO-DAY, SIR, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN!" _Frank._ "HAH! SAME THING! WELL, LOOK HERE! YOUR COOK ISN'T A GREAT HAND AT A SALAD--NOW THAT'S A THING I FLATTER MYSELF I UNDERSTAND BETTER THAN MOST MEN--SO, IF YOU LIKE, I'LL MIX YOU ONE!"] [Illustration: _THE OLD FOXHUNTER._ _Flora._ "WELL, RONALD! AND HOW DO YOU LIKE ROTTEN ROW?" _Ronald._ "OH, PRETTY WELL; BUT IT'S RATHER SLOW WORK TO A MAN WHO HAS BEEN ACCUSTOMED TO GO ACROSS COUNTRY AS I HAVE ALL MY LIFE!"] [Illustration: _MELANCHOLY._ _Lord Eustace_ (_a young Nobleman in love_). "TELL ME, THOMPSON, ARE THOSE THE BIRDS?" _Thompson_ (_his confidential Servant_). "YES, MY LORD." _Eust._ "THEY ARE YOUNG?" _Thomp._ "THEY ARE, MY LORD." _Eust._ "AND THE WINE?" _Thomp._ "LAFITTE--44, MY LORD." _Eust._ "YOU HAVE DRAWN THE CURTAINS?" _Thomp._ "EVEN SO, MY LORD." _Eust._ "AND YOU HAVE PLACED SOME COALS UPON THE FIRE?" _Thomp._ "MY LORD, THIS MOMENT I HAVE DONE SO." _Eust._ "THEN--THEN--LEAVE ME!!" [_And his Lordship pegs away at the Birds, drinks a Bottle of Claret, and feels all the better._ ] [Illustration: _OUT OF THE FASHION._ "WHY, FWED!--WHAWT'S THE MATTER WITH YOUR LEGS?" "WHY, YOU SEE, PEG-TOP TROUSERS ARE GETTING SO COMMON, I'M GOING TO GIVE NATURE A CHANCE!"] [Illustration: _REMARKABLE OCCURRENCE._ ON THE MORNING AFTER THE DISPENSARY BALL, AS EMILY DEUXTEMPS AND CLARA POLKINGTON WERE SITTING IN THE PLANTATION, WHO SHOULD COME TO THE VERY SPOT BUT CAPTAIN FASTMAN AND YOUNG REGINALD FIPPS!] [Illustration: "_BLESS YOU! BLESS YOU!_"] [Illustration: _WHO WILL SERVE THE COUNTRY?_ _Recruiting Sergeant._ "NOW, BRAVE BOYS, WITH THOSE WHISKERS AND SHOULDERS, YOU SHOULD BE WITH US, AND--I'M SURE THE LADIES WOULD EXCUSE YOU!"] [Illustration: _WE'LL SERVE THE SHOP!_] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM_;] AND [Illustration: _FINELADYISM._ _First Elegant Mamma._ "HOW SHOCKING THIS IS!--THE WAY NURSERYMAIDS NEGLECT THE CHILDREN!" _Second Do._ "YES, DEAR! AND I DON'T SEE THAT ANYTHING CAN BE DONE. FOR WHAT WITH PARTIES, AND THE TIME ONE NATURALLY DEVOTES TO DRESSING, AND THE NUMEROUS CALLS ONE HAS TO MAKE, ONE CAN'T LOOK AFTER ONE'S OWN CHILDREN, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _THE ADVENT OF SPRING._ "THE DEAR GIRLS REALLY MUST HAVE SOME NEW BONNETS, FOR THEY CANNOT POSSIBLY WEAR THOSE NASTY, SHABBY, DIRTY, OLD WINTER THINGS ANY LONGER."] [Illustration: _THE VALENTINE._ _Little Foot Page._ "I SAY, MARIA, WHAT'S A RHYME TO CUPID?" _Maria._ "WHY, STUPID RHYMES TO CUPID--DON'T IT, STUPID?"] [Illustration: _TASTE._ _Shop-girl_ (_who has been expected to possess_ TENNYSON'S "_Miller's Daughter_"). "NO, MISS! WE'VE NOT GOT THE MILLER'S BUT HERE'S THE RATCATCHER'S DAUGHTER, JUST PUBLISHED!!"] [Illustration: _INSULTING A REFUGEE._ _Rude Boy._ "OH CRIKEY, BILL, IF 'ERE AIN'T THE GREAT ORANGOUTANG BEEN TO A TAILOR, AND GOT RIGGED OUT AS A SWELL!"] [Illustration: _A SKETCH FROM THE STAND AT SCARBORO'._ _Fair Equestrian._ "OH! I WANT TO RIDE ON THE SANDS WITH THIS LITTLE BOY.--HAVE YOU A HORSE DISENGAGED FOR HIM? ANY BIT OF A PONY THING, YOU KNOW, WILL DO FOR ME!"] [Illustration: _A WHOLESOME CONCLUSION._ _Lady Crinoline._ "YES, LOVE--A VERY PRETTY CHURCH, BUT THE DOOR IS CERTAINLY VERY NARROW!"] [Illustration: _INTERESTING GROUP POSED FOR A PHOTOGRAPH_ BY A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY.] [Illustration: _INTERESTING AND VALUABLE RESULT._] [Illustration: _OLD BOYS._ _Old Boy_ (_loq._). "OH, SHE'S A CHARMING GYUIRL, AND, UPON MY SAUL! I THINK SHE LIKES ME AMAZINGLY!"] [Illustration: _VERY ALARMING, INDEED._ _Professional Man._--"AH! IT'S VERY LUCKY YOU CAME TO ME IN TIME.--YOU SEE, MA'AM, YOU HAVE HAD INFLAMMATION OF THE BRONCHIAL TUBES, WHICH, ACTING UPON THE FLEXOR LONGUS DIGITORUM PEDIS, HAS OCCASIONED AN ABRASION OF THE DIGASTRICUS, OR, AS SOME CALL IT, THE BIVENTER MAXILL� INFERIORIS; AND WHICH MIGHT HAVE ENDED IN CONFIRMED DELIRIUM TREMENS, OR EVEN PREMATURE ELEPHANTIASIS. HOWEVER, I DARESAY, &c., &c., &c. [_Old Lady gasps for breath._ ] [Illustration: _POLITENESS AS IN PARIS._ (_A Perfidious Misrepresentation, of course._)] [Illustration: _IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FLATTERY._ _Jules_ (_who affects English manners and customs_). "GOOD--A--BY, OLE BOY! I GO TO MAKE A PROMENADE IN MY TO-CAR." (_Which being interpreted means that Jules is going for a drive in his Dog-Cart._]) [Illustration: _VERY ODD!_ _Lecturer on Electro-Biology._ "NOW, SIR! YOU CAN'T JUMP OVER THAT STICK! AHEM!" _Subject._ "JUMP? EH! UGH! LOR BLESS ME, JUMP! NO, I KNOW I CAN'T--NEVER COULD JUMP--UGH!" [_Thunders of applause from the Gentlemen in the cane-bottom chairs_--(_i.e. believers_). ] [Illustration: _A TENDER POINT._ _Irish Jarvie_ (_with much excitement_). "NOT FAST ENOUGH! IS IT? OH THIN, YER 'ONOR, JIST JUMP UP, TILL I TIRRIFY YE THE WAY I'LL ROWL ALONG!"] [Illustration: _STUMPED OUT._ _Apothecary's Boy_ (_to party rather proud of his Horsemanship_). "I SAY, MISTER, MIND WHAT YOU'RE AT, OR YOU'LL BE OFF THE _SHOPBOARD_!"] [Illustration: _A GENEROUS OFFER._ _Small Sweeper_ (_to Crimean Hero_). "NOW, CAPTAIN, GIVE US A COPPER, AND I'LL SEE YER SAFE OVER THE CROSSING!"] [Illustration: _NOT A BAD IDEA FOR WARM WEATHER._ _Frederick._ "NOW, GIRLS, PULL AWAY--DON'T BE IDLE!"] [Illustration: _A QUIET LOOK AT THE COUNTRY._ _Frank._ "THERE, CHARLEY! WE HAVE A GOOD MANY OF THOSE LITTLE DOUBLES HERE; BUT, BLESS YOU! OUR HORSES THINK NOTHING OF 'EM!" _Charley_ (_who is not to be beaten_). "HA, I SEE!--NICE CLEAN JUMPING! NOW, IN OUR COUNTRY THE FENCES ARE BIG AND CRAMPED!"] [Illustration: _PATERFAMILIAS HAS HIS HOLIDAY AT THE SEA-SIDE_-- -- ] [Illustration: -- -- _WHILE A RESPECTABLE ELDERLY FEMALE TAKES CARE OF THE HOUSE IN TOWN._] [Illustration: _PLEASING DELUSION. IN RE THE ROUND HATS._ _Female._ "WELL! THERE CAN BE NO QUESTION ABOUT ONE THING!--THEY CERTAINLY DO MAKE YOU LOOK YOUNGER!"] [Illustration: _THE ROUND HAT AGAIN._ _Mrs. Popps._ "WELL, WHAT I SAY IS, THEY ARE VERY BECOMING--AND UNCOMMON COMFORTABLE?"] [Illustration: _OH! WHAT A HUMBUG!_ _Amelia._ "MAMMA, DEAR! HERE'S A NOTE FROM DEAR WILLIAM, WITH A BOX FOR THE OPERA, I SHOULDN'T WONDER." (_Reads_):--"_My darling Amelia, Circumstances over which I have no control will take me as far as Greenwich. I have left my Latch-key--please to get it from the Waistcoat I took off, and send it by the Bearer to your ever affectionate Kidums._"] [Illustration: _A PEACE CONFERENCE._ _Flora._ "OH, I AM SO GLAD--DEAR HARRIET--THERE IS A CHANCE OF PEACE--I AM MAKING THESE SLIPPERS AGAINST DEAR ALFRED COMES BACK!" _Cousin Tom._ "HAH, WELL!--I AIN'T QUITE SO ANXIOUS ABOUT PEACE--FOR, YOU SEE, SINCE THOSE SOLDIER CHAPS HAVE BEEN ABROAD, WE CIVILIANS HAVE HAD IT PRETTY MUCH OUR OWN WAY WITH THE GURLS!"] [Illustration: _A POSER._ _Darling._ "OH, MAMMA, DEAR! WHAT SPLENDID FLOWERS!" _Mamma._ "YES, DEAR, PUT IT DOWN. THAT IS MY WREATH. I'M GOING TO THE OPERA!" _Darling._ "OH! AND WHEN I GROW A BIG LADY, MAY I WEAR A WREATH, AND GO TO THE OPERA?" _Mamma._ "WELL, DEAR, I HOPE SO!" _Darling._ "WHAT, AND TAKE MY BEAUTIFUL VELVET AND GOLD CHURCH SERVICE UNCLE CHARLES GAVE ME?"] [Illustration: _THE PICNIC.--OVERTAKEN BY THE TIDE._] [Illustration: _AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION._ BOWKER, WHO IS FOND OF NICE THINGS FOR BREAKFAST, AND SOMETIMES MARKETS FOR HIMSELF, BECOMES AN OBJECT OF INTEREST FROM HAVING LAID IN A FEW BLOATERS, AND HALF-A-POUND OF FRESH CAMBRIDGE SAUSAGES, FROM BOND STREET--AND WHICH SAUSAGES AND BLOATERS ARE IN HIS COAT-POCKET.] [Illustration: _A STRONG-BACKED CAR. SCENE--IRELAND._ _Tourist._ "WELL, BUT MY GOOD FELLOW, YOU CAN'T CARRY US, AND ALL OUR LUGGAGE!" _Car Driver._ "OGH, NIVER FEAR, YER 'ONOUR, SHURE I'D CARRY _TWICED_ AS MUCH!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW PURCHASE._ _Mr. Muff._ "BUT--THEY SAID HE WAS WELL KNOWN IN THIS HUNT!" _Farmer._ "OH, YES--AND SO HE IS VERY WELL KNOWN. HE'S BROKE MORE COLLAR BONES THAN ALL THE 'OSSES IN ENGLAND." [Illustration: _AQUATIC MANOEUVRES._ BY MUCH THE PLEASANTEST WAY OF SEA-BATHING IS TO TAKE A BOAT, AND HAVE A GOOD SWIM IN THE CLEAR BLUE WATER--AND ISN'T IT NICE SCRAMBLING INTO THE BOAT AGAIN! EH?] [Illustration: _A PAINFUL SUBJECT._ _Lieutenant Fopson_ (_of the 121st, to his Elder Brother, who is home for the Holidays_).--"A-SAY, OLD FELLAH!--DON'T YOU WISH YOU HAD LEFT SCHOOL?--IT MUST BE SUCH A HORRID BAW TO BE FLOGGED FOR SMOKING!"] [Illustration: _THE NEW REGULATION MESS._ _Swell Soldier._ "WHAT, DINE OFF WOAST AND BOILED, JUST LIKE SNOBS--NO!--BY JOVE!--I SHALL CUT THE ARMY, AND GO INTO THE CHURCH!"] [Illustration: _THE GREAT TOBACCO CONTROVERSY._ _Clara_ (_emphatically_). "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, FRANK--I SHALL ALWAYS THINK IT A _NASTY_, _ODIOUS_, _DIRTY_, _FILTHY_, _DISGUSTING_, AND _MOST OBJECTIONABLE_ HABIT!" _Frank._ "HAW!--NOW, I'M REALLY SURPRISED, CLARA, TO HEAR SUCH A CLEVER GIRL AS YOU ARE RUNNING DOWN SMOKING IN SUCH STRONG LANGUAGE--FOR IT'S ADMITTED, BY ALL SENSIBLE PEOPLE, YOU KNOW, THAT IT'S THE _ABUSE OF TOBACCO_ THAT'S WRONG!" [_Which little bit of sophistry completely vanquishes_ CLARA. ] [Illustration: _AT PARIS._ A SKETCH FROM THE BOULEVARD.] [Illustration: _A YOUTHFUL SAGE._ _Studious Boy._ "JOHNNY!--I ADVISE YOU NOT TO BE A GOOD BOY!" _Johnny._ "WHY?" _Studious Boy._ "BECAUSE IN BOOKS ALL GOOD BOYS DIE, YOU KNOW!"] [Illustration: _ASTONISHING A YOUNG ONE._ _Dick_ (_to little Brother_). "HAH! THIS IS ONE OF THE DISAGREEABLES IN BEING GROWN UP. WHY, BLESS YOU, IF I DIDN'T SHAVE TWICE A DAY THIS WARM WEATHER, I SHOULD NOT BE FIT TO BE SEEN!"] [Illustration: _MONSTERS OF THE POOL._ MASTER GEORGE AND THE DRAGON-FLIES. AS THEY APPEARED TO HIS EXCITED IMAGINATION WHEN HE WAS OUT FISHING THE OTHER DAY.] [Illustration: _THE HUMOURS OF THE STREET._ _Delightful Boy._ "OH! LOOK 'ERE, JIM! HERE'S A SWELL--LET'S FRIGHTEN 'IS 'ORSE!"] [Illustration: _CAUTION TO TRAVELLERS._ NEVER GO TO SLEEP WHILE YOU ARE HAVING YOUR HAIR CUT IN PARIS, OR IT MAY BE CUT IN THE FIRST STYLE OF FASHION!] [Illustration: _EXCURSION BOAT, AFTER A RATHER BOISTEROUS PASSAGE, ARRIVES AT 2.30 P.M._ _Ticket Collector_ (_without any feeling_). "TICKETS, SIR! THANKYE, SIR! BOAT RETURNS AT 3!"] [Illustration: "_TICKLED WITH A STRAW._" _Advertising Medium._ "COME, NOW, YOU LEAVE ORF! OR I'LL CALL THE PERLICE!"] [Illustration: _IMPERTINENT CURIOSITY._ _Military Man._ "WELL! WHAT ARE YER A STARIN' AT?--AIN'T YER NEVER SEED A SODGER BEFORE?"] [Illustration: _IN CAMP._ _Juvenile_ (_à propos of Highlander in sentry-box_). "OH! MY WIG, CHARLEY, WHAT A JOLLY JACK-IN-THE-GREEN HE'D MAKE!"] [Illustration: _SANITAS._ "HEY, COLIN! DINNA YE KEN THE WATTER'S FOR DRINK, AND NAE FOR BATHIN'?"] [Illustration: _THE QUADRILLE IN HOT WEATHER._ _Stout Party_ (_who suffers much from heat, and has in vain attempted to conceal himself_). "OH, I BELIEVE WE ARE ENGAGED FOR THIS DANCE. I'VE BEEN--THAT IS--I'VE--EH?--I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU--A--A--EVERYWHERE--PHEW!"] [Illustration: _OH YES, OF COURSE._ _Lizzie._ "OH, MR. POFFLES, I FIND I HAVE MADE A MISTAKE--I SEE I WAS ENGAGED FOR THIS DANCE."] [Illustration: _FEMININE AMENITIES._ _Sensitive Party._ "WHO IS THAT GIRL WITH THE NEZ RETROUSS�?" _Amiable Party_ (_who has rather a prominent beak_). "NEZ RETROUSS�! DO YOU MEAN THAT GIRL WITH THE PUG NOSE?"] [Illustration: _A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR MUGGINS._ "LARK! I SAY! WHAT'LL MY OLD MAN THINK WHEN HE SEE ME IN THIS 'ERE 'AT?"] [Illustration: _HUSBAND-TAMING._] [Illustration: _RESULT OF ALLOWING LADIES TO WITNESS RAREY'S HORSE-TAMING EXHIBITION._ _Mrs. Blanch._ "I ASSURE YOU, MY LOVE, HE IS COMPLETELY UNDER MY CONTROL. HE NEVER TALKS NOW OF SUCH A THING AS GOING TO HIS CLUB OR DINING AT GREENWICH WITH HIS BACHELOR FRIENDS, AND HE WILL READ TO ME WHILE I WORK FOR THE HOUR TOGETHER." _Mrs. Catherine._ "OH, I MUST CERTAINLY LEARN THE ART. FOR MY AUGUSTUS IS REALLY DREADFUL!"] [Illustration: _THE LOVERS' QUARREL._ _Frederick._ "BUT I ASSURE YOU, DEAREST----" _Emily._ "OH, NONSENSE, FREDERICK!--DON'T TELL ME! I JUDGE BY DEEDS, NOT WORDS; AND I AM SURE YOU CANNOT REALLY LOVE ME, OR YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE GIVEN THAT HORRID MISS CLAPPERTON THE WING OF THE CHICKEN, AND ME THE LEG. BESIDES, YOU HANDED THE STRAWBERRIES FIRST TO FLORA GIGGLES, AND YOU KNOW HOW I HATE HER."] [Illustration: _A SKETCH DURING THE RECENT GALE._] [Illustration: _TERRIFIC ACCIDENT._ BURSTING OF OLD MRS. TWADDLE'S AQUA-VIVARIUM. THE OLD LADY MAY BE OBSERVED ENDEAVOURING TO PICK UP HER FAVOURITE EEL WITH THE TONGS, A WORK REQUIRING SOME ADDRESS.] [Illustration: _THE MARRIAGE QUESTION._ _Lady Flora._ "FOUR-IN-HAND CLUB, INDEED! FOR MY PART, I THINK YOUNG MEN OF FORTUNE MIGHT EMPLOY THEIR TIME MUCH BETTER THAN DRIVING HORSES TO GREENWICH! DON'T YOU, ALICE?" _Alice_ (_with a tremendous sigh_). "OH, YES! DEAR!" ] MR. PUNCH'S ADVICE TO HOUSEKEEPERS. [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. I. FOR EXAMPLE:--BY GETTING UP AT DAY-BREAK, CLEANING OUT YOUR STABLE, AND TAKING THE HORSES OUT FOR EXERCISE, YOU WILL ACCOMPLISH YOUR OBJECT.] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. II. AND----ENABLE THE GROOMS TO GET THEIR BREAKFAST COMFORTABLY, AND SO KEEP THEM IN GOOD HUMOUR FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. III. HAVING THOROUGHLY DRESSED AND FED THE HORSES, YOU HAD BETTER SET TO WORK UPON THE BOOTS OF THE ESTABLISHMENT. THE KNIVES, AS YOU HAVE A MACHINE, YOU MAY AS WELL DO. AND, WHILE YOUR HANDS ARE SOILED, YOU HAD BETTER HELP ALPHONSO TO CARRY UP SOME COALS.] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. IV. THERE CAN BE NO REASON WHY THE GIRLS SHOULDN'T DRESS THEMSELVES, THAT PARKER THE MAID MAY GO TO HER DANCING.] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. V. AS FOR JOHN THOMAS, THE BEST PLAN, OF COURSE, IS TO WAIT UPON _HIM_, AND THEN, PERHAPS (ALTHOUGH IT BY NO MEANS FOLLOWS), HE MAY BE SATISFIED! [_As most Domestics are fond of the Organ-grinders, you had better engage one of an evening for their amusement._ ] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. VI. IT IS CERTAINLY BETTER TO MIND THE BROUGHAM YOURSELF, ESPECIALLY IN FOGGY WEATHER, AS, IN CONSEQUENCE OF ROBERT'S UNFORTUNATE PROPENSITY, YOUR FAMILY ARE ALWAYS MORE OR LESS IN DANGER WHEN RETURNING FROM THE THEATRE. ] [Illustration: "_IF YOU WANT A THING DONE, DO IT YOURSELF._"--No. VII. NEVER DISTURB THE MAIDS IN THE MORNING, BUT JUMP OUT OF BED THE MOMENT YOU HEAR THE SWEEP, AND LET HIM IN; IT ISN'T MUCH TROUBLE, AND SAVES A WORLD OF GRUMBLING.] [Illustration: _DOMESTIC DOCTORING._ FOR A COLD IN THE HEAD THERE IS NOTHING LIKE A STEAM BATH, AND THIS CAN BE HAD IN YOUR OWN BEDROOM WITH THE GREATEST EASE--YOU HAVE ONLY TO----] [Illustration: TAKE CARE THAT YOU MANAGE THE APPARATUS PROPERLY.] [Illustration: "_WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS, 'TIS FOLLY TO BE WISE!_" (_New Version._) "I SAY, JIM, VOT'S A PANIC?" "BLOW'D IF I KNOW; BUT THERE'S VON TO BE SEEN IN THE CITY."] [Illustration: _A PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH._ _Puseyite Parson._ "WHAT! WANT TO LEAVE YOUR SITUATION! WHY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE PERFECTLY SATISFIED!" _Cook._ "WELL, SIR, THE FACT IS, I AIN'T EQUAL TO THEM FAST DAYS; FOR WHAT WITH A HEGG HERE, AND A HEGG THERE, AND LITTLE BITS O' FISH FOR BREAKFASTES, AND LITTLE BITS O' FISH FOR DINNERS, AND THE SWEET OMELICKS, AND THE FRIED AND THE STEWED HOYSTERS, AND THE BASHAWED LOBSTERSES, AND ONE THINK AND THE HOTHER, THERE'S SO MUCH COOKING, THAT I AIN'T EVEN TIME TO MAKE UP A CAP!"] [Illustration: _CATCHING A TARTAR._ _Irritable Old Gentleman_ (_giving Conductor a tremendous poke in the ribs_). "HOLLO, THERE! STOP! WHAT THE D * * * * CONFOUND YOU, DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO STOP AT ACACIA VILLA?" _Extremely Civil Conductor._ "DEAR ME, SO YOU DID, SIR--BEG YOUR PARDON, I'M SURE, SIR, BUT I REALLY QUITE FORGOT IT." _Irritable Old Gentleman._ "D-D-DON'T BEG MY PARDON, YOU IMPUDENT SCOUNDREL!--IF YOU GIVE ME ANY OF YOUR BAD LANGUAGE, I'LL HAVE YOU UP AS SURE AS YOU'RE BORN."] [Illustration: _TOUCHING._ _Groom_ (_to Old Coachman_). "WHY, GUV'NR, WHAT HEVER'S THE MATTER?" _Old Coachman_ (_sobbing_). "AH, WILLIAM! MOST AFFECTIN' SIGHT! I'VE JUST SEEN THE FOUR-IN-HAND CLUB GOING DOWN TO GREENWICH! TEN ON 'EM! BEAUTIFUL TEAMS! AND DRIVEN BY REG'LAR TIP-TOP SWELLS! IT'S BIN A'MOST TOO MUCH FOR ME!" [_Is relieved by tears._ ] [Illustration: _FLUNKEIANA._ _John Thomas._ "YES, I MUST LEAVE. YOU SEE, MARY, MY DEAR--THERE'S TOO MUCH RED IN THE LIVERY, AND THAT DON'T SUIT MY COMPLEXION--NEVER DID!"] [Illustration: _MEASURE FOR MEASURE._ "THIS IS ABOUT THE MARK, I THINK."] [Illustration: _IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FLATTERY._ _Sarah Jane To Betsy Ann._ "OH, YES! IF IT COMES TO THAT, YOU KNOW, PEOPLE CAN STICK OUT AS MUCH AS OTHER PEOPLE--I ALWAYS WEARS ONE O' MOTHER'S OLD CLOTHES-BASKETS."] [Illustration: _MALAPROPOS._ _Swell_ (_loq._). "IN FACT, I'M QUITE USED UP--AND IF I DON'T VERY SOON GET TO SOME WATERING PLACE, I SHALL BE A--A--" [_Cartman pulls string--Grand display of the whole system of Fountains._ ] [Illustration: "_AN ART THAT DOTH DISFIGURE NATURE._" MR. BELVILLE DE COURCY WALKS ON THE ESPLANADE, UNDER THE IDEA THAT HE IS CREATING NO END OF SENSATION IN A CERTAIN DRAWING-ROOM. ALAS! HE LITTLE KNOWS, THAT OWING TO THE VERY INFERIOR QUALITY OF THE GLASS IN THAT DRAWING-ROOM WINDOW, HIS SPLENDID FIGURE IS DISTORTED AS ABOVE.] [Illustration: _ON THE JETTY._ YES, MY DEARS; I KNOW THE SEA-BREEZE AFTER BATHING IS BENEFICIAL TO THE BACK HAIR;--BUT CONSIDER THE HEART OF YOUR TOO SUSCEPTIBLE PUNCH!] [Illustration: _A WATER ABSTAINER._ _Disgusting Boy._ "I SAY, CLARA!--I'M SO JOLLY GLAD, I AM. DO YOU KNOW, ALL THE PIPES ARE FROZE, AND WE SHAN'T BE ABLE TO HAVE ANY OF THAT HORRID WASHING THESE COLD MORNINGS!--AIN'T IT PRIME!" [_Sensation._ ] [Illustration: _A MORAL LESSON FROM THE NURSERY._ _Arthur._ "DO YOU KNOW, FREDDY, THAT WE ARE ONLY MADE OF DUST!" _Freddy._ "ARE WE? THEN I'M SURE WE OUGHT TO BE VERY CAREFUL HOW WE PITCH INTO EACH OTHER SO, FOR FEAR WE MIGHT CRUMBLE EACH OTHER ALL TO PIECES!"] [Illustration: _THE DISAPPOINTED ONE._ _Lover._ "WHAT A BORE, JUST AS I WAS GOING TO POP THE QUESTION TO JENNY JONES, HERE'S MY NURSE COME FOR ME!"] [Illustration: _BROTHERS IN ARMS._] [Illustration: _ADDING INSULT TO INJURY._ NOBBS HAVING COME WITH HIS FAMILY TO THE SEA-SIDE FOR A LITTLE CHANGE OF SCENE, COMPLAINS THAT THEY HAVE BEEN TERRIBLY BITTEN BY--(BUT NO, WE WILL NOT MENTION THE HORRID CREATURES)--AND IS ADDRESSED THUS BY THE LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER: "THEN HALL I CAN SAY, SIR, HIS--THAT IF YOU'VE BEEN HILL-CONWENIENCED BY 'EM, YOU MUST 'A BROUGHT 'EM DOWN WITH YOU IN YOUR PORTMANTEL!"] [Illustration: _A BIT OF A BREEZE._ MR. WIGGINS HAS A FINE OPPORTUNITY OF DISPLAYING HIS POLITENESS AND ACTIVITY] [Illustration: _HORRIBLE QUESTION AFTER A GREENWICH DINNER._ _Foot-Boy._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, COOK TOLD ME TO ASK YOU WHAT FISH YOU'D LIKE TO-DAY?"] [Illustration: _AWKWARD PREDICAMENT._ _Young Sparrow._ "OH, I'M SORRY TO TROUBLE YOU, UNCLE--BUT COULD YOU LEND ME A RAZOR? MY CONFOUNDED FELLOW HASN'T PACKED UP MY DRESSING-CASE!"] [Illustration: _ALARMING PROPOSITION._ _Oyster-Man_ (_to Hairy Gents_). "OYSTERS, SIR! YES, SIR! SHALL I TAKE YER BEARDS OFF?" [_Gents have an uncomfortable idea that they are being chaffed._ ] [Illustration: _EPIGRAMMATIC._ _Gentleman._ "LETS HAVE A BOILED MACKEREL." _Waiter._ "BILED, SIR! BETTER HAVE 'EM BRILED, SIR. IF THEY'RE BILED, THEY'RE SPILED, SIR!"] [Illustration: _A SKETCH AT A RAILWAY STATION._ _Respectable Citizen_ (_reads Placard_). "'_The Public are cautioned against Card-Sharpers, Gamblers, and Pickpockets._' * * * WHY, I THOUGHT SUCH PEOPLE WAS ALL DONE AWAY WITH. DIDN'T YOU, MO?"] [Illustration: _HI ART._ _Parent._ "I SHOULD LIKE YOU TO BE VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT HIS HAIR." _Photographic Artist (!)._ "OH, MUM, THE 'AIR IS HEASY ENOUGH! IT'S THE HI'S WHERE WE FIND THE DIFFICULTY."] [Illustration: _OUR LAZY CONTRIBUTOR._ "THE VERY IDEA OF WORK THIS BEAUTIFUL WEATHER IS REPUGNANT TO MY FEELINGS." [_Extract from our Young Friend * * *'s Letter._ ] [Illustration: _GOING OUT OF TOWN._ _Mary._ "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, MISSUS SAY YOU MUST FIND ROOM FOR THIS IN YOUR PORTMANTEL."] [Illustration: _THE ROAD._ _Gent_ (_with much pride_). "THERE'S ONE THING, 'ARRY, AS ALWAYS STRIKES ME A GOING DOWN TO THE DARBY, AND THAT IS HOW THE NUMBER OF SPLENDID EQUIPAGES MUST ASTONISH THE FOREIGNER!"] [Illustration: _SERIOUS THING FOR BROWN_, WHO RATHER PRIDES HIMSELF UPON THE ELEGANT MANNER IN WHICH HE TAKES OFF HIS HAT. THIS TIME, HOWEVER, ALTHOUGH THE HAT IS REMOVED, THE LINING STICKS.] [Illustration: _BEAUTY IN DISTRESS._ _Gallant Swell_ (_who of course comes to the rescue_). "HAW! CAN I BE OF ANY SERVICE?" _Beauty._ "OH, YES! IF YOU WOULD SIT UPON THE HORSE'S HEAD, I SHOULD BE _SO_ MUCH OBLIGED."] [Illustration: _COMMON OBJECTS AT THE SEA-SIDE--GENERALLY FOUND UPON THE ROCKS AT LOW WATER._] [Illustration: _THE ARTISTIC (!) STUDIO._ _A Stereoscopic Scene from Fashionable Life._ "_Love, Pride, Revenge._"--THE GROUP REPRESENTS A YOUNG MINSTREL OF HUMBLE ORIGIN, DECLARING HIS PASSION TO A LADY OF NOBLE PARENTAGE. HER HAUGHTY BROTHER, AS MAY BE SEEN FROM HIS MENACING ATTITUDE, IS ABOUT TO AVENGE THE INSULT OFFERED TO HIS FAMILY!] [Illustration: _A TRYING THING FOR TOOTLES_, WHO SEES THE OBJECT OF HIS ADMIRATION FLY OVER A HOG-BACKED STILE, HE HAVING THE GREATEST AVERSION TO TIMBER.] [Illustration: _CRINOLINE FOR EVER!--NO BATHING-MACHINE REQUIRED._ A HINT FOR THE SEA-SIDE.] [Illustration: _NAUTICAL STYLE._] [Illustration: _ALWAYS BE POLITE WHEN TRAVELLING._ _Affable Young Gent_ (_who is never distant to Strangers_). "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE _Bell's Life_, SIR? THERE'S AN OUT-AND-OUT STUNNING MILL BETWEEN CONKEY JIM AND THE PORKY ONE!"] [Illustration: _A YOUNG SPORTSMAN_. _Lucy._ "WELL, REGINALD, AND WHEN DO YOU GO BACK TO SCHOOL?" _Reginald._ "OH! THE DAY AFTER TO-MORROW!--AND AIN'T IT A BORE, JUST AS ONE'S HUNTERS ARE IN SUCH SPLENDID CONDITION?"] [Illustration: _QUITE A CHEAP TRIP._ DURING SOME OF THE WINTER MONTHS, WITH A NICE BRACING NORTH-EAST WIND BLOWING, YOU MAY GO TO MANCHESTER AND BACK FOR 5_s_.--AN OPPORTUNITY NOT TO BE LOST--OH DEAR, NO!] [Illustration: _'ARRY AND 'ARRIET._] [Illustration: _MALICIOUS._ _Flora._ "CAN YOU STILL SEE THE STEAMER, LUCY, DEAR?" _Lucy._ "OH, YES, QUITE PLAINLY!" _Flora._ "AND DEAR, DEAR WILLIAM, TOO?" _Lucy._ "OH, YES!" _Flora._ "DOES HE SEEM UNHAPPY, NOW HE IS AWAY FROM ME?" _Lucy._ "EVIDENTLY, I SHOULD SAY, DEAR; FOR HE IS SMOKING A CIGAR, AND DRINKING SOMETHING OUT OF A TUMBLER TO CHEER HIM, POOR FELLOW!"] [Illustration: _DISGUSTING FOR AUGUSTUS._ _Augustus_ (_who was rapidly coming to the point_). "THEN, EMILY! OH, MAY I CALL YOU EMILY?--SWEETEST!--BEST!--SAY THAT YOU WILL NOT GO--WITHOUT----" _Fish-woman_ (_cuts in_). "ANY FEESH TO-DAY, MARM?--ANY MACKEREEL, SOLES, OR WHITING?"] [Illustration: _QUITE A SEDUCTIVE SON OF MARS._ _Lady._ "AND SO, CAPTAIN--THEY SAY YOU ARE GOING TO TURN BENEDICK?" _Adonis._ "WHY, YA-AS--AW--I DIDN'T WISH TO--BUT--AW--IN FACT, LADY MARY'S ATTENTIONS BECAME SO MARKED--THAT--AW--THE THING AW--WAS INEVITABLE--AW."] [Illustration: _PLEASURES OF TRAVEL._ _Chambermaid._ "VERY SORRY, BUT YOUR LUGGAGE HAS GONE ON TO LONDON, SIR."] [Illustration: _CRINOLINE ON THE WATER._ _Waterman._ "YOU'VE NO CALL TO BE AFEARD, MISS; WE'RE LICENSED TO CARRY SIX!"] [Illustration: _GOING TO CHURCH--SCARBOROUGH._] [Illustration: _A DAY VERY LATE IN THE SEASON.--SAY, THE FIRST OF APRIL._ THE O.P.Q. HOUNDS HAVE A RATTLING HOUR AND TEN MINUTES AFTER A GOOD STOUT BUTTERFLY, OVER A SPLENDID PRIMROSE AND VIOLET COUNTRY.---- _Huntsman_ (_loq._). "SHALL I GIVE THE WINGS TO THE LADY, SIR?"] [Illustration: _SENSIBLE RIDING COSTUME FOR WARM WEATHER._] [Illustration: _IT MUST BE ALL RIGHT!_ _Mamma._ "I WONDER WHERE THAT CHILD, ARTHUR, IS--HE IS VERY QUIET. I HOPE HE IS NOT IN MISCHIEF." _Child._ "OH, NO, MAMMA, DEAR! HE'S NOT IN MISCHIEF, FOR HE IS IN THE LIBRARY, PLAYING WITH THE PENS AND INK."] [Illustration: _AN ASTONISHING REQUEST._ _Fast Young Lady_ (_to Old Gent_). "HAVE YOU SUCH A THING AS A LUCIFER ABOUT YOU, FOR I'VE LEFT MY CIGAR-LIGHTS AT HOME!"] [Illustration: _THE UNEXPECTED ALWAYS HAPPENS._ DISMAY OF TOOTLES AT HEARING A STRANGER COMMENCE "THE STANDARD BEARER"--A SONG WHICH HE (TOOTLES) HAS BEEN PRACTISING FOR MONTHS, WITH THE VIEW OF CREATING A SENSATION AT MRS. BLOWER'S MUSICAL EVENING.--UNFORTUNATELY, TOO, FOR TOOTLES, "THE STANDARD BEARER" IS HIS ONLY SONG!] [Illustration: _A MASTER OF THE ART._] [Illustration: _THE LAST ALTERATION._ _Small Boy._ "OH, AIN'T IT A SHAME! THEY'RE A-GOING TO TAKE OFF THEM POOR COVES' BOOTS AND COATS, AND PUT 'EM ON FROCKS AND TROWSERS."] [Illustration: _BATTLE OF THE HYDE PARK._ GALLANT AND DARING ACT OF PRIVATE LOBBS (OF THE CRUSHERS), WHO, BY HIMSELF, STORMED AN OLD TREE, AND VERY NEARLY CAPTURED THREE SMALL BOYS.] [Illustration: _BLIND WITH RAGE._ _Huntsman_ (_riding furiously over a fence to a Scarecrow_). "* * * * * * * *--YOU GREAT FOOL, WHAT THE DEUCE DO YOU STAND POINTING THERE FOR?--WHY DON'T YOU HOLLER OUT WHICH WAY THE FOX BE GONE? BLOWED IF I DON'T CUT YOU INTO BITS!"] [Illustration: _A NOTION OF PLEASURE._ _Boy._ "OH, COME HERE, TOMMY!--HERE'S SUCH A LOT O' GRAINS BIN SHOT DOWN HERE! LET'S TURN 'EAD OVER 'EELS IN 'EM!"] [Illustration: _PRECOCITY._ _Youth._ "HERE'S A NUISANCE, NOW! BLOWED IF I AIN'T LEFT MY CIGAR-CASE ON MY DRESSING-ROOM TABLE, AND THAT YOUNG BROTHER OF MINE WILL HAVE ALL MY BEST REGALIAS!"] [Illustration: _PRACTICAL SCIENCE._ _Grandmamma._ "WELL, CHARLEY, AND WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN LEARNING TO-DAY?" _Charley._ "PNEUMATICS, GRAN'MA!--AND I CAN TELL YOU SUCH A DODGE!--IF I WAS TO PUT YOU UNDER A GLASS RECEIVER, AND EXHAUST THE AIR, ALL YOUR WRINKLES WOULD COME OUT AS SMOOTH AS GRANDPAPA'S HEAD!"] [Illustration: _AN INDISCRETION._ _Fascinating Gent_ (_to precocious Little Girl_). "YOU ARE A VERY NICE LITTLE GIRL; YOU SHALL BE MY WIFEY WHEN YOU GROW UP!"---- _Little Girl._ "NO, THANK YOU; I DON'T WANT TO HAVE A HUSBAND; BUT AUNT BESSY DOES. I HEARD HER SAY SO!" [_Sensation on the part of Aunt Bessy._ ] [Illustration: _ADDING INSULT TO INJURY._ _Schoolboy_ (_to Farmer who has come out to protect his fields_). "NOW THEN, OLD TURNIP-TOPS! _WARE WHEAT!_"] [Illustration: _THE COURSE OF TRUE, &c., NEVER DID, &c._ HERE'S POOR YOUNG WIGGLES ANXIOUS TO MEET THE BEING HE ADORES, BUT CANNOT DO SO, BECAUSE THE NEWLY-PITCHED BOAT UPON WHICH HE HAS BEEN SITTING, HAS CAUGHT HIM ALIVE, O!] [Illustration: _THE EXPANSE OF FASHION._ _Chair Proprietor._ "WOULD YOU PLEASE TO PAY FOR THE CHEERS, MUM?" _Lady._ "HOW MUCH?" _Chair Proprietor._ "WELL, MUM--HOW MANY MIGHT YOU BE A SITTIN' ON?"] [Illustration: _IN THE WITCHING TIME OF LIFE._ SOME LIKE ONE THING, AND SOME ANOTHER--FOR EXAMPLE, JACK LIKES A BLOW ON THE NORTH CLIFF----] [Illustration: WHILE CHARLES PREFERS A QUIET CORNER OUT OF THE WIND.] [Illustration: _SISTERLY LOVE._ _Papa_. "THERE, THERE! MY LITTLE POPPET! DON'T CRY! DON'T CRY!--IF YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE THE MEASLES, YOU WILL SOON BE WELL AGAIN, I HOPE. THERE, THERE!" _Blanche_ (_sobbing violently_). "I--I--I--I'M NOT CRYING, PAPA, BECAUSE I'M GOING TO HAVE THE MEASLES; BUT BECAUSE I--I--I--THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO RIDE MARY'S PONY ALL THE TIME SHE WAS ILL, AND NOW I SHAN'T!"] [Illustration: _A DOMESTIC EXTRAVAGANZA._ _Mamma_. "WHY, GOOD GRACIOUS, NURSE! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH ADOLPHUS! HE LOOKS VERY ODD!" _Nurse_. "AND WELL HE MAY, MUM! FOR HE THOUGHT THE COLOURED BALLS IN MISS CHARLOTTE'S NEW GAME OF SOLITAIRE WAS BULL'S EYES, AND HE'S SWALLOWED EVER SO MANY OF 'EM."] [Illustration: _A HINT TO RAILWAY TRAVELLERS._ BY BREATHING ON THE GLASS--AND HOLDING A SPEAKING DOLL BY WAY OF BABY TO THE WINDOW--YOU MAY GENERALLY KEEP YOUR COMPARTMENT SELECT.] [Illustration: _A SEA-SIDE DIALOGUE._ "HOLLO, JIMMY!--WHERE ARE YOU A-GOING WITH YOURN?" "HESPLANADE!--WHERE BE YOU?" "PROSPEC PLACE!" [_Exit Companions of the Bath._ ] [Illustration: _A QUID PRO QUO._ _Small Boy_ (_to prodigious Swell_). "I SAY, MISTER, KETCH MY DONKEY, THAT'S A GOOD CHAP--I'LL DO THE SAME FOR YOU ANOTHER TIME!"] [Illustration: _TOUCHING APPEAL._ _Testy Old Gent_ (_wearied by the importunities of the Brighton Boatman_). "CONFOUND IT, MAN! DO I _LOOK_ AS IF I WANTED A BOAT?"] [Illustration: _A DELICIOUS DIP._ _Bathing Attendant._ "HERE, BILL! THE GENT WANTS TO BE TOOK OUT DEEP--TAKE 'IM _INTO THE DRAIN_!"] [Illustration: _A CITIZEN OF THE WORLD._ OLD DIPPS DECLARES THEY MANAGE SEA-BATHING BETTER IN FRANCE, AND THAT WHEN HE IS AT BO-LONG, HE DOES AS BO-LONG DOES--WELL! THAT'S A MATTER OF TASTE!] [Illustration: _MISPLACED INTELLIGENCE._ _Mamma._ "WHY, TOM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT NASTY DUST-PAN AND BROOM?" _Tom._ "BROTHER FRED TOLD ME TO BRING IT IN AND SWEEP UP ALL THE H'S MRS. MOPUS HAD DROPPED ABOUT!" [_N.B. Great Expectations from Mrs. M._ ] [Illustration: _KNIGHTS OF THE BATH._] [Illustration: _SCENE: GREENWICH._ _Senior Party._ "DOG CART! GOOD GRACIOUS! BUT _YOU_ ARE NEVER GOING TO DRIVE?" _Junior Party._ "NOT GOING A--DWIVE? WHY NOT GOING A--DWIVE? JUS--AIN'T I, THO'?" [_The last train has gone, and the Senior Party under the impression that the vehicle was a brougham, has accepted the offer of a lift to town._ ] [Illustration: _SHOCKING RESULT OF WEARING INDIA-RUBBER GOLOSHES._ YOUNG JACK ROBINSON SEES WHAT HE IMAGINES TO BE THE IMPRESSION OF HIS DARLING'S FOOT--HE MENTALLY EJACULATES, "_BEETLE-CRUSHER, BY JOVE!_" AND FLIES TO OTHER CLIMES.] [Illustration: _A HAVEN OF REFUGE._ THINGS ARE SO BAD IN THE CITY, THAT MR. SNAFFLE AND MR. FLUKER GO TO BOULOGNE FOR CHANGE AND AIR.] [Illustration: _TOO BAD, BY JOVE!_ _Heavy Swell._ "DEUCED STUPID--THESE NEWSPAPERS!" _Lady_ (_with keen perception of the ludicrous_). "YES, CHARLES!--ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY SAY THAT A DISMOUNTED DRAGOON IS ABOUT AS EFFECTIVE AS A SWAN ON A TURNPIKE ROAD!"] [Illustration: _HEARTLESS PRACTICAL JOKE._ _Charlotte._ "HERE THEY COME, BLANCHE. LET US PRETEND WE DON'T RECOLLECT THEM."] [Illustration: _SCENE ON BOARD H.M.S. ----_ "I SAY, WHY AM I LIKE THE QUEEN'S CHIEF COOK? DO YOU GIVE IT UP?" "YES." "BECAUSE I AM IN A HIGH COOL-AND-AIRY (_culinary_) POSITION." [_Astonished Cadet nearly falls from the yard._ ] [Illustration: _A BYE-DAY AT EASTER._ _Youth_ (_quite at home for the holidays_). "NOW, LOOK HERE, OLD BOY; IF THE FOX BREAKS AT THIS CORNER, DON'T YOU HOLLER TILL HE GETS WELL AWAY!"--(_N.B. The old Nimrod is the_ MASTER _himself_.)] [Illustration: _A GREAT PLAGUE IN LIFE._ PATERFAMILIAS, WHOSE PET AVERSION IS STREET MUSIC, GOES TO THE SEA-SIDE, HOPING TO ESCAPE FROM THE NUISANCE, HE IS AT BREAKFAST,--BEAUTIFUL VIEW, NEW-LAID EGG, &c., &c.--WHEN----] [Illustration: _OH, HORROR!_] [Illustration: _DREADFUL FOR YOUNG OXFORD._ _Lady._ "ARE YOU AT ETON?" _Young Oxford._ "AW, NO!--I'M AT OXFORD!" _Lady._ "OXFORD! RATHER A NICE PLACE, IS IT NOT?" _Young Oxford._ "HUM!--HAW! PRETTY WELL, BUT THEN I CAN'T GET ON WITHOUT FEMALE SOCIETY!" _Lady._ "DEAR! DEAR! PITY YOU DON'T GO TO A GIRLS' SCHOOL, THEN!"] [Illustration: _WONDERFUL INTELLIGENT CHILD._ ---- "ROSE, WILL YOU HAVE SOME DINNER?" _Rose._ "HAVE HAD MY DINNER." ---- "WHAT HAVE YOU HAD FOR YOUR DINNER?" _Rose._ "SOMETHING THAT BEGINS WITH AN S!" ---- "AND WHAT BEGINS WITH AN S?" _Rose._ "COLD BEEF!"] [Illustration: _AN INCIDENT OF CAMP LIFE._ _Captain Holster._ "HERE! HI! SOME ONE!--STOP MY _BEDROOM_!--HI!"] [Illustration: _MAL DE MER._ A FOREIGN NOBLEMAN IN DIFFICULTY.] [Illustration: _SUNDAY AT THE CLUB._ JUST A SANDWICH AND A NICE GLASS OF HOCK AND SELTZER WATER.] [Illustration: _AT THE ROADSIDE INN._ A MOUTHFUL OF DUST AND A PULL AT THE PUMP.] [Illustration: _AN INJURED INDIVIDUAL._ _Simkins_ (_who has missed his bird, but peppered_ WILKINS). "THERE, NOW, I'VE A DOOCED GOOD MIND TO SAY THAT I'LL NEVER COME OUT SHOOTING WITH YOU AGAIN--YOU'RE ALWAYS GETTING IN THE WAY!"] [Illustration: _THE MOORS. GRATIFYING--VERY!!_ ON ARRIVING AT THE BEST PART OF YOUR SHOOTING, YOU FIND THOSE AMIABLE TOURISTS, THE NOBBS'S, HAVE BEEN OVER THE GROUND A GOOD DEAL. AS THE BIRDS ARE WILD, YOUR SPORT IS NOT MUCH IMPROVED THEREBY. NOBBS, JUNIOR, MAY BE OBSERVED TAKING IN THE "OBJECTS OF INTEREST" WITH HIS TELESCOPE.] [Illustration: _FRIENDLY BADINAGE._ _Cabby._ "NOW, JOHN! WHEN YOU'VE DONE CLEANING THEM KNIVES BEHIND, JUST CLEAN THAT OLD SPOON ON THE BOX, AND LET'S COME BY!"] [Illustration: _THE NOBLE SCIENCE._ TOMKINS AND HIS FRIEND (WHO HAVE BEEN THROWN OUT) CONGRATULATE THEMSELVES ON FALLING IN WITH THE SQUIRE'S SECOND HORSEMAN, WHO IS SURE TO BRING THEM BY A LINE OF GATES TO THE HOUNDS AGAIN--AND SO HE DOES, ONLY--THE LAST OF THE GATES IS LOCKED, AND OVER WHICH HE "HOPS LIKE A BIRD!"] [Illustration: _THE VERY THING._ _Dealer._ "I THINK I KNOW EXACTLY THE OSS YOU WANT, SIR--ABOUT FIFTEEN-TWO--GOOD SHOULDER, LIGHT HEAD AND NECK--WELL RIBBED UP--TAIL WELL SET ON, GOOD FLAT LEGS--PLENTY OF BONE----" _Gent_ (_delighted_). "YA-AS----" _Dealer._ "NO SHY ABOUT HIM. A GOOD GOER, HIGH COURAGED, BUT TEMPERATE--TO CARRY HIS OWN HEAD, NICE MOUTH, AND SWEET TEMPER--FOR ABOUT FIVE-AND-TWENTY PUND!" _Gent_ (_in ecstacy_). "THE VERY THING." _Dealer._ "HAH! THEN DON'T YOU WISH YOU MAY GET IT?" [GENT _subsides_. ] [Illustration: _PLEASURES OF SPORT._ THE NEXT BEST THING TO KEEPING YOUR OWN HUNTERS, IS, TO HIRE "MADE HORSES," THAT THOROUGHLY KNOW THEIR BUSINESS.] [Illustration: _THE OLD GENTLEMAN HAS HAD A LONG MILE, AND TENDERS THE LEGAL FARE--SIXPENCE._ _Cabby_ (_with feigned surprise and delight_). "WHAT, _ALL--THIS--AT ONCE_!!"] [Illustration: _VERY ATTENTIVE._ _Hard-riding Cornet_ (_to Old Party, who is rather bothered by a Brook._) "DON'T MOVE, SIR! PRAY DON'T MOVE AND I'LL TAKE YOU OVER WITH ME"] [Illustration: _NOTHING TO SPEAK OF!_ _Old Gent._ "PRAY, MY GOOD MAN, WHAT IS THE MATTER?" _Confused Individual._ "MATTER, SIR! GENLMN'S OSS RUN AWAY WITH A BROOM, SIR! NIVER SEE ANYTHINK LIKE IT IN ALL MY BORN DAYS! DOWN HE COMES THE 'ILL WITH THE SHARVES A-DANGLING ALL ABOUT HIS LEGS--KNOCKS A BUTCHER'S CART INTO A LINENDRAPER'S SHOP--BANGS AGIN A CARRIDGE AND PAIR, AND SMASHES THE PANEL ALL TO BITS--UPSETS A FEAYTON, AND IF HE 'ADN'T A-RUN UP AGIN THIS HERE CAB AND DASHED IT RIGHT OVER, AND STOPPED HISSELF, BLOWED IF I DONT THINK THERE'D A _BIN SOME ACCIDENT_!"] [Illustration: _THRILLING DOMESTIC INCIDENT._ _Master Alfred._ "DON'T, BABY!--YOU'LL SPOIL IT. LEAVE GO, SIR! HERE, NURSE! HE'S SWALLOWING MY NEW WATCH!"] [Illustration: _AFTERNOON TEA._] [Illustration: _THE FAIR TOXOPHILITES._ _Constance._ "OH, MAMMA! I'M SO DELIGHTED! I HAVE JUST MADE THE BEST GOLD, AND WON THE BEAUTIFUL BRACELET GIVEN BY CAPTAIN RIFLES." _Lucy_ (_disappointed_). "WELL, CONSTANCE, I THINK YOU HAD BETTER NOT SAY MUCH ABOUT IT. YOU KNOW IT WAS A FLUKE! FOR YOU TOLD ME YOU ALWAYS SHOT WITH YOUR EYES SHUT, AS YOU FEEL SO VERY NERVOUS!"] [Illustration: _HINT TO GENTLEMEN RIDING HOME AFTER DINNER._ NEVER CARRY "PATENT VESUVIENNES," 2_d._ A BOX, IN YOUR COAT-TAIL POCKET!] [Illustration: _MR. BRIGGS, HAVING BECOME AN ADEPT IN THE ART OF HORSE-TAMING, OPERATES UPON A COLT HE HAS BRED HIMSELF, AND_] [Illustration: _WITH COMPLETE SUCCESS!_] [Illustration: _AN UNINVITING PROSPECT._ A FRENCH FRIEND PAYS HIS FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND, AND IS SHOWN THE GREAT METROPOLIS. HE IS PROFOUNDLY IMPRESSED BY OUR NOBLE REGENT STREET.] [Illustration: _THE DEMON OF THE STREET._ THE FRIGHTFUL FIGURE THAT NEARLY TERRIFIED OLD FOGEY AND HIS WIFE OUT OF THEIR WITS--AND WHICH PROVED, AFTER ALL, TO BE ONLY AN ORDINARY MORTAL CARRYING ROASTED CHESTNUTS!] [Illustration: _FOXHUNTING IN A FOG._ _Wild Huntsman_ (_in the distance_). "ALL RIGHT, JACK! COME ALONG! CAN HEAR 'EM IN THE NEXT FIELD!"] [Illustration: _IT'S THE EARLY BIRD THAT PICKS UP THE WORM._ _Piscator._ "THERE, THOMAS, YOU NOW SEE THE ADVANTAGE OF EARLY RISING. I HAVE GOT THE VERY BEST PLACE ON THE WATER, AND I'LL BE BOUND TO SAY THE OTHER SUBSCRIBERS ARE NOT OUT OF BED YET!"] [Illustration: _F. M. PUNCH SYMPATHISES WITH THE POOR(!) ITALIAN ORGAN-GRINDER._ _F. M. P._ "THERE, MY MAN, IT'S A PITY A GREAT HULKING FELLOW LIKE YOU SHOULD TURN A HANDLE TO MAKE SUCH A NASTY NOISE! HERE'S AN INSTRUMENT FOR YOU! GO AND PLAY UPON IT IN YOUR OWN COUNTRY!"] [Illustration: _DELICATE TEST._ _Elevated Party._ "A NEVER THINK A FL'EAR'S HAD T'MUSH WINE S'LONG AS A WINDSUP-ISH WASH!]" [_Proceeds to perform that operation with corkscrew._ ] [Illustration: _A WAKE IN THE MINING DISTRICTS._ _J'moimer Ann._ "HAS THEE FOWGHTEN, BILL?" _Bill._ "NOOAH!" _J'moimer Ann._ "THEN GET THEE FOWGHTEN, AND COOM WUM. DADDY GOT HIS'N DONE BY FOWER O'CLOCK!"] [Illustration: _A BAD TIME FOR JOHN THOMAS._ _Rude Boy._ "I SAY, JACK, AIN'T HE A FINE UN?--D'YE THINK HE'S REAL, OR ONLY STUFFED?"] [Illustration: _THE COMING COLLISION._] [Illustration: _REMARKABLE CASE OF TABLE-TALKING._ _Table_ (_loquitur_). "DON'T YOU BELIEVE HIM, MUM--I'M NOT MAHOGANY, BUT I'M VENEERED AND SECOND-HAND." [_Table dances about on its legs for a considerable time, and vanishes in a blue flame._ ] [Illustration: _THE FOUR-IN-HAND MANIA._ _Hearse Driver_ (_to Swell, who has just started a Team_). "BEG PARDON, SIR, BUT HEARING AS YOU HAD STARTED FOUR 'OSSES, I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT WANT A YOUNG MAN AS COULD BRING YOUR COACH UP TO THE DOOR AS IT 'AD OUGHT TO BE!"] [Illustration: _TOUCHING._ _Friend._ "----AND WHAT BECOME OF HER?" _Buss Driver_ (_with emotion_). "WELL!--SHE WAS TOOK AWAY FROM ME--AND GOT INTO BAD HANDS, YER SEE--AND SOON WENT ALL TO PIECES.--DEAR! DEAR!--SHE WOS WERRY BEAUTIFUL!--SUCH A SHAPE! AND SUCH A LOVELY COLOUR! (_Sighing._) HAH! I SHALL NEVER, NEVER, SEE--SUCH--ANOTHER--BUSS AGIN!"] [Illustration: _SIX OF ONE AND HALF-A-DOZEN OF THE OTHER._ _Miss Matilda to Miss Priscilla._ "WELL, I'M SURE!--THE CREATURE NEEDN'T SIT THERE IN THAT DISGUSTING MANNER!"] [Illustration: _AN EQUESTRIAN DIFFICULTY._ _Mr. Sprat._ "DON'T YOU THINK, MY LOVE, THAT THE GROOM, WHO UNDERSTANDS THESE THINGS, HAD BETTER PUT YOU UP?" _Mrs. Sprat_ (_with indignation_). "THE GROOM, MR. S! THE GROOM PUT ME UP! NO, SIR! PUT ME UP YOURSELF. A PRETTY HUSBAND _YOU_ ARE! GROOM, INDEED!"] [Illustration: _THE RACE FOR A BATHING MACHINE._ ALICE FIRST, CLARA SECOND, MISS TODDLES A BAD THIRD; AND THE REST NOWHERE!] [Illustration: _RIVER FROLICS._ WHAT CAPITAL FUN IT IS SETTING TRIMMERS FOR JACK, AND ROWING AFTER THEM UNDER A BURNING SUN!--BUT WHY DOES NOT TOM HAUL UP THE ANCHOR?] [Illustration: _THE WILL AND THE WAY._ MRS. POTTLES SEES NO REASON WHY SHE SHOULDN'T GO OUT ON THE ROOF OF HER HOUSE TO SEE THE FIREWORKS.] [Illustration: _PREJUDICE._ _Boy._ "OH! LOOK 'ERE, BILL! 'ERE'S A BLOATED HARISTOCRAT. THERE'S NO ONE LOOKING. LET'S PUNCH HIS 'ED!"] [Illustration: _THE COMET._ _Master Tom._ "I SAY, GRAN'MA, THIS IS A SAD JOB ABOUT THE COMET!" _Gran'ma._ "GOOD GRACIOUS! WHAT'S THE MATTER?" _Master Tom._ "WHY, HERE'S A LETTER IN THE PAPER SAYS,--'_The particles of the tail, if thrown out from the head, having only, as before, the same rate of orbital motion as the head, and having larger and larger orbits to describe, the further they are removed from the head, will necessarily fall further and further behind as they recede from the comet, and thus form a curve independently of a resisting medium_;' AND THAT, '_the panic-allaying doctrine of the tenuity of cometic nuclei cannot be maintained from the mere fact of their translucency_.'"] [Illustration: _VIVE LE SPORT!_ _English Friend_ (_to Foreigner of distinction_). "THE FOX HAS BROKE, AND _GONE AWAY_!" _Foreigner of distinction_ (_who has been galloping about the rides to his immense satisfaction_). "AHA! HE IS BROKEN, AND _GONE AVAY_! WHAT A PITY! ZEN I SUPPOSE IT IS ALL OVARE AND WE MUST GO HOME!"] [Illustration: _TAKING FIRST PLACE._ _Boy from School._ "GATE NAILED, OLD BOY! NEVER MIND! I'LL MAKE A GAP FOR YOU!"] [Illustration: _CANDID._ _Cook._ "FINE DAY, MR. CHALKS!" _Mr. Chalks._ "YES, COOKEY, IT'S A VERY FINE DAY! BUT IF WE HAVEN'T SOME RAIN SOON, I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE SHALL DO FOR =MILK=!"] [Illustration: _FORTUNATE FELLOWS._ _Stalwart Briton._ "I TELL YER WHAT, BILL! WE OUGHT TO BE VERY THANKFUL WE'RE ENGLISHMEN, FOR WHETHER IT'S THE CLIMATE, OR WHETHER IT'S THEIR HABITS, JUST SEE HOW THOSE AMERICANS ARE DEGENERATING!"] [Illustration: _NOT A PERSONAL ALLUSION._ _Stout Gent._ "DEAR! DEAR! SO HE HAS FORMED AN ATTACHMENT THAT YOU DON'T APPROVE OF! AH! WELL, THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING. DEPEND UPON IT, MA'AM, THERE'S A _SKELETON SOMEWHERE IN EVERY HOUSE_!"] [Illustration: _RETURNING FROM THE DERBY._ "AT LENGTH HE PRESENTED HIMSELF BUT IN SUCH A STATE THAT WE WERE OBLIGED TO TIE HIM ON THE BOX, AND I HAD TO RIDE HOME."--_Extract from Letter to particular Friend._] [Illustration: _AT EPSOM._ _Excited Gentleman._ "THEY'RE OFF!--THEY'RE OFF!" _Quiet Lady._ "ARE THEY, DEAR? WON'T YOU HAVE SOME PIE?"] [Illustration: _AN ABSENTEE._ "WHY ARE YOU ON THE CROSSING, JAMES? IS YOUR FATHER ILL?" "NO. HE'S DROVE MOTHER DOWN TO HASCOT."] [Illustration: _SELF-EXAMINATION._ _Party_ (_slightly influenced_). "QUESHION ISH! AM I FIT TO GO INTODRAWINGROOM? LETSH SHEE!--I CAN SHAY GLORIUSH CONSHYSHUSN!--HAVE SEEN BRISH INSHYCHUSION--ALL THAT SORTOTHING--THATLEDO--HERE GOSH!"] [Illustration: _THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT._ _Old Mr. What's-his-name._ "EGAD, I DON'T WONDER AT MOUSTACHES COMING INTO FASHION, FOR--EH! WHAT! BY JOVE, IT DOES IMPROVE ONE'S APPEARANCE!"] [Illustration: _DEER-STALKING MADE EASY. A HINT TO LUSTY SPORTSMEN._] [Illustration: _A FACT FROM THE NURSERY._ _Nurse._ "MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS, MISS CHARLOTTE, YOU MUSTN'T PLAY WITH THOSE SCISSORS!" _Miss Charlotte._ "I'M NOT PLAYING WITH 'EM, NURSE DEAR--I'M CUTTING 'ITTLE BRUDDER'S NAILS!"] [Illustration: _RETIREMENT._] [Illustration: _GRAND CHARGE OF PERAMBULATORS, AND DEFEAT OF THE SWELLS._] [Illustration: _A SUBURBAN DELIGHT._ _Dark Party_ (_with a ticket-of-leave, of course_). "AX YER PARDON, SIR!--BUT IF YOU WAS A-GOING DOWN THIS DARK LANE, P'RAPS YOU'D ALLOW ME AND THIS HERE YOUNG MAN TO GO ALONG WITH YER--'COS YER SEE THERE AIN'T NO PERLICE ABOUT--AND WE'RE SO PRECIOUS FEARED O' BEIN' =GAROTTED=!"] [Illustration: _TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING._ AS, FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN YOU GET THE ASPARAGUS SHOT OVER YOUR FAVOURITE DRESS COAT WITH THE SILK FACINGS.] [Illustration: _GOING TO THE BALL--THE FINISHING TOUCH._] [Illustration: _"PERFORMERS," AFTER A RESPECTABLE FUNERAL._] [Illustration: _THE BRITISH JURYMAN PREPARING FOR THE WORST._ _Wife of his Bussum._ "THERE, MY LOVE, I THINK WITH WHAT YOU'VE HAD, AND THIS BOX OF CONCENTRATED LUNCHEON, YOU MAY HOLD OUT AGAINST ANY OF 'EM!"] [Illustration: _A DISTRESSED AGRICULTURIST._ _Landlord._ "WELL, MR. SPRINGWHEAT, ACCORDING TO THE PAPERS, THERE SEEMS TO BE A PROBABILITY OF A CESSATION OF HOSTILITIES." _Tenant_ (_who strongly approves of War prices_). "GOODNESS GRACIOUS! WHY, YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT THERE'S ANY =DANGER OF PEACE=!"] [Illustration: _SOMETHING LIKE A HORSE-TAMER._ _Stout Party_ (_who weighs about ten sacks of flour and a cartload of bricks_). "REALLY, NOW, AND SO YOU HAVE BEEN INITIATED, AND IT'S ALL RIGHT, EH? WELL, I CERTAINLY MUST TAKE SOME LESSONS, AND BECOME A HORSE-TAMER MYSELF!"] [Illustration: _SPACIOUS ACCOMMODATION._ "THE WERRY FIRST THING AS EVER I DOES WHEN I GOES TO THE CHRISTIAL PALIS, IS GIT A CHEER!"] [Illustration: _EASIER SAID THAN DONE._ _Master of the House._ "OH, FRED, MY BOY--WHEN DINNER IS READY, YOU TAKE MRS. FURBELOW DOWNSTAIRS!"] [Illustration: _A DOUBLE GAME._ GREAT CHESS MATCH (UPON THE MORPHY SYSTEM) BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. CASTLETOP AGAINST THEIR DAUGHTER BLANCHE AND HER INTENDED, YOUNG CHARLEY ROOKTON.] [Illustration: _THE CIVIL CABMAN._ _Cabby_ (_to Old Party, who has been to the Crystal Palace_). "WANT A CAB, SIR!--SORRY I'M ENGAGED, SIR!--WERRY 'APPY TO TAKE YOU =NEXT WEEK=!"] [Illustration: _THANK GOODNESS! FLY-FISHING HAS BEGUN!_ _Miller._ "DON'T THEY, REALLY! PERHAPS THEY'LL RISE BETTER TOWARDS THE COOL OF THE EVENING. THEY MOSTLY DO!"] [Illustration: _A CAVALIER._ _Adolphus._ "NOW, GIRLS!--IF YOU'RE GAME FOR A RIDE ON THE SANDS--I'M YOUR MAN."] [Illustration: _WET DAY AT THE SEA-SIDE._ PARTY IN THE TABLEAU THINKS, THAT PERHAPS STROPPING HIS RAZORS MIGHT AMUSE HIM.] [Illustration: _SCIENCE STUDENTS._ SO FOND OF ASTRONOMY, THAT THEY ARE ALWAYS ON THE BALCONY, LOOKING FOR THE COMET!] [Illustration: _A SPECIMEN OF PLUCK._ _Ruggles._ "HOLD HARD, MASTER GEORGE. IT'S TOO WIDE, AND UNCOMMON DEEP!" _Master George._ "ALL RIGHT, RUGGLES! WE CAN BOTH _SWIM_!"] [Illustration: _A FACT._ _Short-sighted Officer._ "SERGEANT! GET THAT MAN'S HAIR CUT IMMEDIATELY!"] [Illustration: _MATTER OF OPINION._ _Miss Matilda._ "GO ON, FIDO!--THERE'S ONE GREAT DRAWBACK TO THESE HATS--THEY MAKE ONE LOOK LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE." (_Ahem!_)] [Illustration: _OUR LITTLE FRIEND TOM NODDY DETERMINES TO HAVE A DAY'S HUNTING IN A FRESH COUNTRY._ _T. N._ (_loq._). "WELL NOW, OLD FELLOW, WHAT SORT O' COUNTRY IS IT WHERE WE ARE GOING TO-MORROW?" _His Friend._ "OH, BEAUTIFUL!--VERY EASY. BIGGISH BULLFINCHERS WITH A DITCH ON ONE SIDE. TIMBER OF COURSE, SUCH AS POSTS AND RAILS, AND THAT SORT OF THING; AND IF WE GO TO MUDBURY, NOTHING BUT RAZOR-BACKED BANKS AND--WATER!"] [Illustration: _THE SWIMMERS._ _Georgina._ "NOW, CLARA, THAT'S NOT FAIR--YOU KNOW YOU HAVE ONE FOOT ON THE GROUND."] [Illustration: _A MODERN ANTIQUE._] [Illustration: _FRENCH AS IT IS SPOKEN._ _Scene. Paris, a Table d'Hôte.--Old Lady at Breakfast.--The Garçon has been ordered to bring some fruit to Old Lady._ _Garçon._ "VOIL�, MADAME!--_Old Lady_ (_who, in her Daughter's absence, will let off her French._) "OH! TRES BYANG, TRES BYANG, GAR�ON; BONG! MARECEY, MARECEY, MAIS--THESE ARE CURRANTS--BYANG NAMPORT! CET EGAL--ONLY--JE N'AIME PAS SO WELL AS GOOSEBERRIES, YOU KNOW!" [_Instructive rather!_ ] [Illustration: _A GOOD CATCH._ FLY-FISHING. A NICE RIPPLE ON THE WATER.--"_NOW FOR A BIG ONE!_"] [Illustration: _FELLOW FEELING._ _Cabby._ "NOT GOT NO MONEY?--NEVER MIND, SIR,--JUMP IN! I CAN'T STAND SUCH AN OSSEY-LOOKING GENT AS YOU TO GO ABOUT A-WALKING!"] [Illustration: _THE FARM-YARD._ _Country Friend_ (_to London Friend who is dressed within an inch of his life_). "THERE, MY BOY--COME AND SEE THIS LOVELY PIG, AND THEN WE'LL GO AND LOOK AT THE REST OF THE STOCK."] [Illustration: _DELICATE WAY OF PUTTING IT._ _Tailor_ (_measuring_). "TRIFLE WIDER ROUND THE _CHEST_, SIR, THAN YOU WAS."] [Illustration: _TABLE-TURNING EXPERIMENT AT GREENWICH._ "THERE, OLD FELLA! HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED IT GOES ROUND NOW." "OH YESH! THERE'S NO MISTAKE!"] [Illustration: _A COOL REQUEST._ _Boy._ "I SAY, SIR--HEAVE US UP TO HAVE A LOOK AT THEM PICTURES!"] [Illustration: _FASHION OF THE PERIOD._ THE RAREY ZEBRA PATTERN--A SWEET THING FOR THE SEA-SIDE.] [Illustration: _OFFENDED DIGNITY._ _Small Boy_ (_to Ex-Cook, who has come about a place_). "IS THERE A FOOTMAN KEP? WHY, O' COURSE THERE IS--I'M THE FOOTMAN!"] [Illustration: _A HINT TO THE ENTERPRISING._ _Boy._ "HERE YOU ARE, SIR. BLACK YER BOOTS, AND TAKE YER LIKENESS, FOR THE SMALL CHARGE OF THREEPENCE!"] [Illustration: _THE ROYAL KNICKERBOCKER ARCHERS._ INVASION, INDEED! WHY, HERE IS A CORPS OF VOLUNTEERS, WHO HAVE NEVER EVEN BEEN THOUGHT OF--WHAT WITH THE GLANCES AND THE ARROWS THEY WOULD SHOOT, AN ENEMY WOULD BE WORRIED TO DEATH IN NO TIME!] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. XI. _Mistress._ "NOT GOING TO REMAIN IN A SITUATION ANY LONGER! WHY, YOU FOOLISH THINGS, WHAT _ARE_ YOU GOING TO DO, THEN?" _Eliza._ "WHY, MA'AM, YOU SEE OUR _FORTUNE-TELLER_ SAY THAT TWO YOUNG NOBLEMEN IS A-GOING TO MARRY US--SO THERE'S NO CALL TO REMAIN IN NO SITUATIONS NO MORE!"] [Illustration: _A MONSTROUS LIBERTY._ _Flunkey._ "HALLO, WILLIAM, WHAT'S THE MATTER?" _Groom._ "MATTER?--WHY, I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT NEXT?--HERE'S MASTER, WITHOUT SAYING NOTHUN TO ME, 'AS BIN AND LENT _MY_ 'OSS TO A FRIEND--AND I'M DONE OUT OF MY AFTERNOON'S RIDE!"] [Illustration: _SERVANTGALISM._--No. XII. _Mistress._ "I THINK, COOK, WE MUST PART THIS DAY MONTH." _Cook_ (_in astonishment_). "WHY, MA'AM? I AM SURE I'VE LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN WAY IN 'MOST EVERYTHINK!"] [Illustration: _THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD._] [Illustration: _FRIENDLY SYMPATHY._ _First Party_ (_who is hard hit, and sentimental_). "THIS IS THE VERY SPOT WHERE I LAST SAW THE DARLING CREATURE. I ASSURE YOU, FRANK, SHE IS THE LOVELIEST, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, THE--THE--TH'--IN FACT----" _Second Party_ (_who has heard the same thing for the last two hours_). "H'M! HA! DESSAY! YES. I SAY, OLD FELLAH, HAVE A WEED!"] [Illustration: _MEN OF TASTE._ _Alphonso._ "YOU FIND YOUR MOOSTARCHERS A GREAT COMFORT, DON'T YOU, TOM?" _Tom._ "WELL!--YES!--BUT I'M AFRAID I MUST CUT 'EM, FOR ONE'S OBLIGED TO DRESS SO DEUCED EXPENSIVE TO MAKE EVERYTHING ACCORD!"] [Illustration: _CAUTION TO GENTLEMEN WALKING TO EVENING PARTIES._ DON'T FORGET TO TAKE OFF YOUR GOLOSHES AND TURN DOWN YOUR TROUSERS BEFORE ENTERING THE ROOM.] [Illustration: _HUMILITY._] [Illustration: _A DAY AT THE CAMP._ _Sentinel._ "WHO COMES THERE?" _Ebriosus._ "FRIEND!" _Sentinel._ "ADVANCE, FRIEND!" _Ebriosus._ "ADVANSH; COME, THATSH A GOOD UN!"] [Illustration: _RUSTIC PLEASANTRY._ _Gent. on Horseback._ "GET OUT OF THE WAY, BOY!--GET OUT OF THE WAY!--MY HORSE DON'T LIKE DONKEYS!" _Boy._ "DOAN'T HE?--THEN WHY DOAN'T HE KICK THEE ORF?"] [Illustration: _MUCH TOO CURIOUS._ _Officious Little Gent._ "HOLLO, CABBY, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOUR 'ORSE?" _Cabby._ "WELL--THAT'S JUST WHAT I DON'T KNOW, AND I BRED HIM. YOU'RE ALWAYS WANTING TO BE BEHIND THE SCENES, YOU ARE! SUPPOSE YOU GET INSIDE AND SEE!"] [Illustration: _THE PLEASURE OF LE SPORT._ _Foreigner of Distinction_ (_about to charge an obstacle_). "TAKE NOTICE, MES AMIS! ZAT I LEAVE EVERY SING TO MY VIFE!"] [Illustration: _A JUDGE BY APPEARANCE._ _Bathing Guide._ "BLESS 'IS 'ART! I KNOW'D HE'D TAKE TO IT KINDLY--BY THE WERRY LOOKS ON 'IM!"] [Illustration: _A VERY NATURAL MISTAKE._ _Young Lady_ (_who is in Hat and Coat of the Period_). "CAN I HAVE A MACHINE NOW?" _Bathing Woman._ "NOT HERE, SIR!--GENTLEMEN'S BATHING A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN!"] [Illustration: _COMMON OBJECTS AT THE SEA-SIDE._ "OH! LOOK HERE, MA! I'VE CAUGHT A FISH JUST LIKE THOSE THINGAMIES IN MY BED AT OUR LODGINGS!"] [Illustration: _GUY-FAWKES DAY._ A STURDY DEFENDER OF CHURCH AND STATE.] [Illustration: _IRISH LAKE-FISHING._ _Mr. Briggs._ "BUT THE BOAT SEEMS VERY LEAKY, AND TO WANT MENDING A GOOD DEAL." _Boatman._ "WANT MENDIN' IS IT? OH, NIVER FEAR! SHURE THE BOAT'S WELL ENOUGH. IF YE SIT STILL, AND DON'T COFF OR SNAZE, SHE'LL CARRY YE PRETTY WELL!"] [Illustration: _LAST REFUGE OF A BANISHED SMOKER._ _First Juvenile Swell._ "JUMP IN, OLD FELLAH!" _Second Ditto._ "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" _First Ditto._ "OH! NOWHERE! I'VE ONLY HIRED HIM TO HAVE SOMEWHERE TO SMOKE!"] [Illustration: _AN EAST WIND JOKE._ _Brown._ "AH, TOMKINS! HERE'S A MERRY SPRING TO YOU!" _Tomkins._ "THE SAME TO YOU, BROWN, AND MANY OF THEM, IF YOU COME TO THAT!"] [Illustration: _NOT VERY LIKELY._ THE PARTY "WHO HAS A CERTAINTY" FOR THE EMPEROR'S PLATE. N.B. SEND EIGHTEEN POSTAGE STAMPS.] [Illustration: _CENSORS._ _Master Sparrow._ "LOOK THERE, TOM! YOUNG FRED IS ASLEEP!" _Master Sprat._ "YES! POOR LITTLE BEGGAR! WHAT A SHAME IT IS TO KEEP SUCH A MERE CHILD AS THAT UP SO LATE!"] [Illustration: _NOTHING LIKE HORSE EXERCISE._ "NOW, AUNT! TOUCH HIM WITH YOUR LEFT HEEL, AND LET'S HAVE A TROT!"] [Illustration: _A NEW INDUSTRY._ "WHY, JACK! WHAT'S THE MATTER? YOU LOOK DEUCED QUEER!" "YA-AS! YOU SEE, I'VE GONE INTO BUSINESS. I BUY CLAY PIPES AT A PENNY A-PIECE, AND SMOKE 'EM TILL THEY ARE BLACK, AND THEN SELL 'EM FOR A GUINEA: BUT ITS PRECIOUS HARD WORK, I CAN TELL YOU."] [Illustration: _THE NEW FASHION._ _First Coster._ "WHY, JACK! WHAT'S ALL THAT?" _Second Do._ "WELL, I CAN'T SAY! UNLESS ITS _FIREWORKS_!"] [Illustration: _A REAL SOLDIER._ _Friend._ "MY GOOD ALFRED! WHAT THE DEUCE ARE YOU ABOUT?" _Alfred_ (_in the Fusilier Guards_). "WHY, YOU SEE, OLD FELLOW, WE ARE TO HAVE A CORPS OF SCOTCH BAGPIPERS ATTACHED TO THE REGIMENT.--SO I'M TRYING TO ACCOMMODATE MYSELF TO CIRCUMSTANCES, AND GET ACCUSTOMED TO THE NOISE."] [Illustration: _FANCY GOES A GREAT WAY._ "OH, HE'S AN 'ANSUM DOG, BUT HE AIN'T HALF SO 'ANSUM AS HIS BROTHER WERE!"] [Illustration: _FAIR DISPUTANTS._ AN ELEGANT ROW ABOUT A MACHINE.] [Illustration: _BRUTAL LEVITY._ _Jones_ (_who is naturally proud of his first-born_). "A LITTLE DARLING, AIN'T HE?" _Bachelor Friend._ "H'M, HA! I SEE--YOUNG GORILLA! IS HE REAL OR STUFFED?"] [Illustration: _INDOLENCE._ _Old Mr. Dibbs._ "WHY, GEORGE! YOU NEVER RIDE HERE IN THE AFTERNOON--HOW'S THAT?" _Young Swellington._ "NO-O-O. IT LOOKS AS IF ONE HAD SOME OCCUPATION, YOU KNOW, AND COULDN'T WIDE OF A MORNING. I ALWAYS WIDE BEFORE BREAKFAST, BETWEEN ELEVEN AND ONE!"] [Illustration: _THE CENSUS._ _Head of the Family_ (_filling up the paper_). "WELL, MISS PRIMROSE, AS A VISITOR, I MUST PUT YOUR AGE IN! WHAT SHALL WE SAY?" _Miss P._ "OH, IT'S BEST TO BE STRAIGHTFORWARD. THE SAME AS DEAR FLORA--TWENTY LAST BIRTHDAY!"] [Illustration: _A SUBJECT FOR SYMPATHY._ DISTRESSING POSITION OF CHARLES, WHO DOES NOT FEEL WELL, AND WHO IS KEENLY ALIVE TO THE FACT THAT AMY IS LOOKING AT HIM THROUGH HER OPERA-GLASS.] [Illustration: _LITTLE DUCKS._ _Georgy._ "THERE NOW, CLARA--I CALL IT VERY PEEVISH OF YOU. YOU PROMISED ME, IF I LET YOU GO IN FIRST, THAT YOU WOULDN'T BE LONG, AND I DECLARE YOU HAVE BEEN EXACTLY AN HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES." [_Pouts._ ] [Illustration: _SOLICITUDE._ _Wife._ "NOW PROMISE ME ONE THING, ADOLPHUS. YOU WON'T GO FLYING OVER ANY HEDGES OR FIVE-BARRED GATES?"] [Illustration: _AN UNCONSCIOUS VICTIM._ FEARFUL PRACTICAL JOKE PLAYED WITH A CHILD'S BALLOON UPON A SWELL.] [Illustration: _A HORRID BOY._ _Frank._ "OH, I SAY, EMILY! AIN'T THE SEA-SIDE JOLLY?" _Emily_ (_who is reading The Corsair to Kate_). "I DO NOT KNOW, FRANK, WHAT YOU MEAN BY JOLLY.--IT IS VERY BEAUTIFUL!--IT IS VERY LOVELY!" _Frank._ "HAH! AND DON'T IT MAKE YOU ALWAYS READY FOR YOUR GRUB, NEITHER?" [_Exit Young Ladies, very properly disgusted._ ] [Illustration: _VERY ARTFUL CONTRIVANCE._ _Clara._ "WHY, DEAR ME! WHAT DO YOU WEAR YOUR HAT IN THE WATER FOR?" _Mrs. Walrus._ "OH, I ALWAYS WEAR IT WHEN I BATHE; FOR THEN, YOU SEE, DEAR, NO ONE CAN RECOGNISE ME FROM THE BEACH!"] [Illustration: _AT THE PLAY._] [Illustration: _IN A HURRY._ _Boy._ "NOW THEN, SIR!--THE MORE YOU LOOK THE LESS YOU'LL LOIKE IT!--GET OVER, OR ELSE LET US COME!"] [Illustration: _ANGLING DELIGHTS._ ON ARRIVING AT THE BEST PART OF YOUR FISHING, YOU ARE OF COURSE CHARMED TO FIND THAT OLD MUFFINS AND HIS LITTLE BOY HAVE BEEN WHIPPING THE STREAM ALL THE AFTERNOON.] [Illustration: _THE BEARD MOVEMENT._ _Young Snobley_ (_a regular Lady-killer_). "HOW THE GIRLS DO STARE AT ONE'S BEARD! I SUPPOSE THEY THINK I'M A HORFICER JUST COME FROM THE CRIMEAR!"] [Illustration: _CONSOLATION._ _Young Snobley._ "AH, JIM! NOBLE BIRTH MUST BE A GREAT ADVANTAGE TO A COVE." _Jim_ (_one of Nature's nobility_). "H'M! P'RAPS!--BUT EGAD! PERSONAL BEAUTY AIN'T A BAD SUBSTITUTE!"] [Illustration: _AN UNDESIGNED COINCIDENCE._ TOMKINS RETIRES TO A SECLUDED VILLAGE, THAT HE MAY GROW HIS MOUSTACHES, AND SO CUT OUT HIS ODIOUS RIVAL, JONES. JONES, IT SO HAPPENS, HAS COME TO THE SAME PLACE WITH THE SAME OBJECT.--FRIGHTFUL MEETING!] [Illustration: _GOING TO THE PARK._] [Illustration: _A LITTLE SHOOTING IN IRELAND._ "NO HIT AGAIN, I'M AFRAID, TIM!" "O, NIVER MIND, YER 'ONOR! SURE, YE DO IT VERY NIST. THERE'S SOME JINTLEMEN NOW COMES, AND THEY BLAZE AWAY, AND THEY WOWNDES THE POOR BIRRDS IN THE LIGS AND THE WINGS, AND SUCH LIKE; BUT YER 'ONOR! O, YE FIRES, AND FIRES, AND _ALWAYS_ MISSES 'EM _CLANE_ AND _CLEVER_!"] [Illustration: _LITTLE DINNER AT GREENWICH._ _Fish Swell._ "HERE, WAITAW!--ARE THE WHITEMEN PRETTY GOOD?"] [Illustration: _AFTER THE BATH._] [Illustration: _POETRY AND PROSE._ _Blanche._ "OH, IS THERE NOT, DEAR EMILY, SOMETHING, DELICIOUS ABOUT SPRING?--WE SHALL SOON HAVE ALL THE DEAR LITTLE BIRDS SINGING, AND THE BANKS AND THE GREEN FIELDS COVERED WITH BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS!" _Emily._ "OH, YES!--AND WITH IT WILL COME ALL THE NEW BONNET SHAPES FROM PARIS, AND THE LOVELY NEW PATTERNS FOR MORNING DRESSES!"] [Illustration: _A HAPPY NOTION._ _Johnny._ "OH, I SAY, GRANMA! S'POSE YOU PRETEND BEING A LITTLE PONY, AND I RIDE ABOUT ON YOUR BACK ROUND THE SQUARE!"--(_N.B. Granma feels the heat a good deal._)] [Illustration: _CRICKET.--CAPITAL PRACTICE FOR THE ROUND BOWLING OF THE PERIOD._] [Illustration: _A NICE BRACING DAY AT THE SEA-SIDE_.] [Illustration: _THE MERMAIDS' HAUNT._] [Illustration: _QUITE A NEW SENSATION._ _Swell_ (_on top of Omnibus_). "LOOK HERE, GUS, MY BOY! SUCH A CAPITAL I-DEAW! I RIDE UP AND DOWN FROM BAYSWATER TO THE WHITE CHAPEL AND EAT PERIWINKLES WITH A PIN!"] [Illustration: _SPORTING INTELLIGENCE._ MASTER OF FOX HOUNDS PUNCH TAKES COMMAND OF HIS FIELD IN DEFENCE OF HIS COUNTRY.] [Illustration: _A CAREFUL RIDER._ "A STILE, EH? AHEM! THAT'S A SORT OF THING THAT REQUIRES A GOOD DEAL OF JUDGMENT."] [Illustration: _AT ALDERSHOT--A RATHER DIFFICULT MANOEUVRE._ CLARA AND HARRIET, AND THE TWO NICE GIRLS WHO ARE STAYING WITH THEM, LED BY MAMMA, GET INTO COUSIN HERBERT'S HUT AND HAVE LUNCH.] [Illustration: _FANCY SKETCH._ PORTRAIT OF THE OLD PARTY WHO RATHER LIKES ORGAN-GRINDING.] [Illustration: _AN EASY MATTER._ _Bathing Woman._ "TEACH YER TO SWIM? LOR BLESS YER, MY LOVE, WHY, OF COURSE I CAN!"] [Illustration: _A COMPLACENT BELIEF._ _Old Aunt._ "WELL, MY LOVE--SO YOU'VE GOT A HAT LIKE MINE, I SEE."] [Illustration: _A SYREN._] [Illustration: _AT THE SEA-SIDE._ _Augustus._ "ISN'T IT JOLLY, FRANK, BEING DOWN HERE FOR THE HOLIDAYS?" _Incipient Swell._ "H'M! PRETTY WELL FOR THAT. I CONFESS I MISS THE GAIETY OF TOWN."] [Illustration: _MR. BRIGGS TRIES HIS SHOOTING PONY._] [Illustration: _CAMP LIFE--A NIGHT SURPRISE._] [Illustration: _CAMP LIFE--A DAY SURPRISE._] [Illustration: _THE CURRENCY QUESTION; OR, THE STOCK EXCHANGE OUT FOR THE DAY._ _Jones._ "I SAY, BROWN, THINGS ARE DEUCED BAD IN THE CITY." _Brown._ "THEN I'M DEUCED GLAD I'M AT EPSOM!"] [Illustration: END OF VOL. II.] LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
45980	----	Transcriber's Note: This book contain a copy of the index to both this volume and to "Rowlandson the Caricaturist, Volume 2", which can also be found in the Project Gutenberg collection. (In the index, pages numbered ii. ###-### refer to Project Gutenberg e-book 45981, and in the html version, are linked to it. Although we verify the correctness of these links at the time of posting, these links will not work in all formats or while reading offline.) ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST _FIRST VOLUME_ LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET [Illustration: Tho^s Rowlandson] ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST _A SELECTION FROM HIS WORKS_ WITH ANECDOTAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HIS FAMOUS CARICATURES AND A Sketch of his Life, Times, and Contemporaries BY JOSEPH GREGO AUTHOR OF 'JAMES GILLRAY, THE CARICATURIST; HIS LIFE, WORKS, AND TIMES' [Illustration: DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE--HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX--LORD NORTH] _WITH ABOUT FOUR HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS_ IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. I. London CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1880 [_The right of translation is reserved_] DEDICATED TO ALL LOVERS OF HUMOUR PREFACE. 'Tuâ nobis est gratiâ.'--CIC. We have need of your favour. The Editor recognises that the admirers of Rowlandson's peculiar graphic productions, and those fortunate amateurs who are able to indulge their taste for collecting caricatures and works embellished with humorous illustrations, will not expect any excuse for the preparation and appearance of the present work: he anticipates that--in spite of much that he would improve--the two volumes devoted to a _résumé_ of the great Caricaturist, with the multifarious, ludicrous, and grotesque creations which emanated from his fertile fancy, will be accepted as, in some degree, supplying that which, without being absolutely indispensable, has frequently been instanced as a compilation likely to be acceptable to the appreciators of graphic and literal satire. To the initiated few this sketch of a famous delineator of whimsicalities, with the review of his works, times, and contemporaries, is offered with the conviction that the intentions of the Author are not liable to be misconstrued by them; nor has he any grounds to dread that the subjects represented run the risk of being questioned at their hands on the grounds of propriety. Fuller consideration is due to the many to whom the name of Rowlandson conveys no more than a perception of 'oddity' or of license of treatment which approaches vulgarity, to whom the innumerable inventions of the artist represent foreign ground--a novel, strange land, populated with daring absurdities, according to their theories. It is felt that some justification is needed for the writer's temerity in volunteering as a pioneer to conduct the unsophisticated through the devious and eccentric intricacies which characterise the progress of pictorial satire, as demonstrated in the subject of the work now submitted to the public with all due deference. The neophyte, it is anticipated, will be somewhat startled at the first glance of the surroundings amidst which he will wander; but it is believed that, in the course of his journey through an anomalous past, he will alight on discoveries, more or less interesting in themselves, which provide abundant food for the student of humanity. The writer deprecates a hasty conclusion, with the assurance that those who have the moderation to reserve their opinions until they have fully acquainted themselves with the materials, may possibly suffer their critical instincts to be modified in the process. We have taken the liberty of scrutinising somewhat closely--with a view to the portrayal of its salient features--a generation which was marked with a colouring more intensified than those who live in our time are prepared to adopt. Of this age, diversified with much which has been discarded, we accept Rowlandson as the fitting exponent. His works epitomise a state of being comparatively recent in actual fact, but, from the circumstances of change, so distantly removed in appearance, as to constitute a curious experience to the majority. With every qualification to ensure success, Rowlandson, as his story indicates, deliberately threw away the serious chances of life, to settle down as the delineator of the transitory impressions of the hour. 'There is wisdom in laughter,' says the sage; and--without precisely regarding life as a 'stale jest'--our artist drew mirth from every situation, and illustrated from his own fecund resources that, while nearly every circumstance has its grotesque as well as its sinister aspect, the ludicrous elements of any given event are often more enduring than the serious ones. Good-natured pleasantry, we may remind the reader, is held to be wholesome. Rowlandson's shafts, so far as our judgment serves, were never pointed with gall: while he possessed the faculty of seizing the weak or ridiculous side of his subject, he seems, unlike Gillray, his best-known contemporary, to have been an utter stranger to acrimonious instigations. A fuller acquaintanceship reveals the Caricaturist--as he was described in his day--'an inexhaustible folio of amusement, every page of which was replete with fun'--perhaps the most genial travelling companion who could be selected in traversing the ways of life led by our ancestors, for the half-century which witnessed the gradual extinction of the quaint, old-fashioned Georgian era, and inaugurated the less picturesque generation to which our immediate predecessors belong. Be it recorded, concerning the part played in the world by the satirists, pictorial and literal--'the less they deserve, the more merit in your bounty.' We would modestly suggest the sapient axiom embodied by the great master, 'Fancy's favourite child,' relative to the transient jesters whose lot it has been 'to hold, as't were, the mirror up to nature' upon the mimic stage: 'Let them be well used; for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you live.' CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. (1774-1799.) _BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH._ PAGE The prevalent taste for pictorial satires--Contributions to the literature and history of caricature--Collections of caricatures in national museums--Rowlandson's publishers--Scarcity of his works and the avidity of collectors--Difficulties in the way of forming a collection of Rowlandson's engraved plates--Rowlandson regarded as an artist in water-colours--Examples of his productions to be found in picture galleries--Establishes himself as a serious artist, 1777 to 1781--His contributions to the Royal Academy as a portrait-painter in oils--His female likenesses--His versatile acquirements and imitative fidelity--Rowlandson considered as a landscape artist--As a painter of marine subjects--George Cruikshank's estimation of Thomas Rowlandson--General review of Rowlandson's caricatures: Gambling, the Westminster Election, 1784; political struggles between the Whigs and Tories, Pitt and Fox, the King and the Prince, fashions, the clergy, the Bar, usures, doctors, quackery, John Bull, foreigners, cockneys, countrymen, the Universities, collegians, the military, the navy, seaport sketches, amusements of the _bon-ton_, Vauxhall, the Opera, theatres, card-playing, sharpers, drinking, feasting, sport, fox-hunting, horse-racing, prize-fighting, rural sports, masquerading, picnic revels, fortune-hunters, elopements, Gretna Green, travesties, parodies, and burlesques, trials, scandals, housebreaking, highway robberies, the passions, the Royal Family--Imitations of the old masters: Female studies, _croquis_ taken in France, Holland, Belgium, Germany, England and Wales, the metropolis--The Regency struggle--Admiral Lord Nelson--The miseries of human life--The Great French Revolution--Napoleon Buonaparte--The Delicate Investigation--The Royal Academy, &c., &c.--Manifold production of drawings--Contributions to book illustration--Portraits of the caricaturist--The artist and his relatives--His schoolfellows--A student in Paris--At the Academy schools--His early friends Bannister and Angelo--Tricks on the Royal Academicians--His friends Pyne and John Thomas Smith--Studies of Continental character--Between London and Paris--Is left a fortune--His passion for the gambling-table--The integrity of his conduct--Successive exhibits at the Royal Academy--Portraits in oil--His travels at home and abroad; the companions of his excursions; Mitchell the banker and Henry Wigstead the magistrate--Congenial spirits--Vauxhall Gardens--Lord Barrymore--Nocturnal frolics--Play--Successive drawings of social satires, contributed to the Royal Academy Exhibitions--Rowlandson robbed--Identifies a thief--Lord Howe's victory--French prisoners--Sketches of the embarkation of the expedition for La Vendée--Sojourns in Paris with Angelo, John Raphael Smith, Westmacott, and Chasemore--Sketching in the Netherlands and Germany with Mitchell--John Bull on his travels--Night auctions of pictures, drawings, and prints--Old Parsons, 'Antiquity' Smith, Edwin, Greenwood, Hutchins, Heywood--Relaxations of the period--Nights at Mitchell's--Wigstead and 'Peter Pindar'--Wolcot's stories--Dinners with Weltjé at Hammersmith--The Prince of Wales--Theatrical worthies, Munden, Palmer and Madame Banti--Convivialities--The Prince's Maître d'Hôtel: his cooking and anecdotes--Excursions in England: views in Cumberland, Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Norfolk, Suffolk, Kent, Hampshire, &c.--Studies in the Universities: views of the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge--Malcolm's 'Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing'--Wright's 'History of Caricature and Grotesque in Literature and Art'--Rowlandson as an etcher of the works of amateur caricaturists: his own spirit lent to the productions of Wigstead, Nixon, Woodward, Bunbury, Collings, &c.--Sketches of contemporary caricaturists: William Henry Bunbury, George Moutard Woodward, Henry Wigstead, the facetious John Nixon--The Beef-steak Club--The 'well-bread man'--Collings, artist and editor of the 'Public Ledger'--Caleb Whiteford--'Ephraim Hardcastle'--James Heath--George Morland--James Gillray--Allusions to Rowlandson in the 'Life of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with the Story of his Works and Times'--The position of caricaturists in relation to their contemporaries--Henry Angelo, the fencing master--Personal characteristics of satirists--Rowlandson's publisher, Rudolph Ackermann: sketch of his life--_Conversazioni_ at the 'Repository of Arts'--Special qualities of Rowlandson's productions--Esteem in which he was held by contemporaries--His death and funeral 1 1774-1781. _EARLY PRODUCTIONS._ A Rotation Office--The Village Doctor--A Scene at Streatham--Bozzy and Piozzi--Special Pleading--The Power of Reflection--E O, or the Fashionable Vowels--Gambling Tables--Charity Covereth a Multitude of Sins--Bob Derry--Luxury--Political and social caricatures for 1781 96 1782-1783. Amputation--The Rhedarium--The Discovery--Interior of a Clockmaker's Shop--The Times--Political and social caricatures for 1783 107 1784. _POLITICAL CARICATURES._ The Pit of Acheron--The Fall of Dagon--The Coalition--Fox and North Ministries--Britannia Roused--The East India Company--The Apostate Jack Robinson--The Champion of the People--Master Billy's Procession to Grocers' Hall--The State Auction--The Westminster Election--The Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion--The Canvass--The Rival Duchesses--The Rival Candidates: Hon. Charles James Fox, Lord Hood, Sir Cecil Gray--The Devonshire, or most Approved Manner of Securing Votes--The Poll--Fox, the Westminster Watchman--Honest Sam House--Lords of the Bedchamber--The Court Canvass of Madame Blubber--Wit's Last Stake, or the Cobbling Voter and Abject Canvassers--Monsieur Reynard--The Case is Altered--The Hustings--Procession of the Hustings after a Successful Canvass--Lord Lonsdale--The Westminster Mendicant--The Westminster Deserter Drumm'd out of the Regiment--Court Influence--Preceptor and Pupil--Secret Influences Directing the New Parliament--For the Benefit of the Champion--The Petitioning Candidate--Christopher Atkinson, a 'Rogue in Grain'--John Stockdale, the 'Bookselling Blacksmith' 111 _SOCIAL CARICATURES._ A Sketch from Nature--English Curiosity--Counsellor and Client--La Politesse Françoise--1784, or the Fashions of the Day--The Vicar and Moses--Money-lenders--Bookseller and Author--The Historian Animating the Mind of a Young Painter--Billingsgate--Illustrations of Conveyances--Rowlandson's imitations of modern drawings 145 1785. The Fall of Achilles--The Golden Apple, or the Modern Paris--Defeat of the High and Mighty Balissimo Corbettino and his Famed Cecilian Forces--The Wonderful Pig--The Waterfall--Comfort in the Gout--VAUXHALL GARDENS: Vauxhall Characters--Vincent Lunardi: Aërostation Out at Elbows, or the Itinerant Aëronaut--Too Many for a Jew--An Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful--The Maiden Speech--Captain Epilogue--Col. Topham Endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman--Persons and Property Protected by Authority--Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed--Courtship--Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green--The Reconciliation, or the Return from Scotland--Lord Eden and Gen. Arnold--Harmony--Sympathy--John Gilpin--Tastes Differ--Nap in the Country--Nap in Town--Sea Amusement, or Commander-in-Chief of Cup and Ball on a Cruise--Opera Boxes 152 1786. Box Lobby Loungers--Love and Learning--Sketch of Politics in Europe, January 1786--Uncle Toby (the Duke of Richmond)--An Ordnance Dream, or Planning Fortifications--Luxury--Misery--The Morning Dram--Count Boruwloski (the Polish Dwarf) Performing before the Grand Seigneur--Brewers' Drays--Youth and Age--Sailors Carousing--A Theatrical Chymist--The Return from Sport--A Box Lobby Hero--Werter--Covent Garden Theatre--Illustrations to the poems of 'Peter Pindar' (Dr. Wolcot)--'Picturesque Beauties of Boswell' 180 1787. Uncle George and Black Dick--Illustration to Peter Pindar's poems, 'The Lousiad,' 'Peter's Pension,' 'Odes for the New Year'--The Triumph of Sentiment--The Triumph of Hypocrisy--Transplanting of Teeth (Baron Ron)--The Village Forge--A Brewer's Dray--A Posting Inn--A Rural Halt--Haymakers--A Sailor's Family--A College Scene, or a Fruitless Attempt on the Purse of Old Squaretoes--Tragedy Spectators--Comedy Spectators--Love in the East--The Art of Scaling--Modish--Prudent--Cribbage Players 199 1788. Hunting Series--The Meet--The Humours of St. Giles's--Warren Hastings--Ague and Fever--Lord Hood--The School for Scandal--The King's Illness--Filial Piety--The Prospect before us--The Regency Struggle--The Restrictions--The Addresses--The Word-Eater--Blue and Buff Loyalty--Housebreakers--Love and Dust--Luxury and Desire--Lust and Avarice--Stage Coach and Basket--An Epicure--A Comfortable Nap in a Post-chaise--A Fencing Match--The Pea-Cart--A Print Sale 223 1789. The Regency Restrictions--The Modern Egbert, or the King of Kings--The Pittfall--The Propagation of a Truth--Loose Principles--State Butchers--A New Speaker--Britannia's Support, or the Conspirators Defeated--Going in State to the House of Peers--A Sweating for Opposition--Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary--Address from the Parliament of Ireland to the Prince of Wales--The Prince's Answer--The King's Recovery--Irish Ambassador's Return--Rochester Address--Grand Procession to St. Paul's on St. George's Day, 1798--Sergeant Kite (Duke of Orleans) Recruiting at Billingsgate--Grog on Board--Tea on Shore--Interruption, or Inconvenience of a Lodging House--A Sufferer for Decency--The Start--The Betting Post--The Course--The Mount--Bay of Biscay--Chelsea Reach--La Place des Victoires, Paris--A Dull Husband 242 1790. Tythe Pig--A Roadside Inn--Frog-Hunting--A Butcher--Repeal of the Test Act--A French Family--Kick-up at a Hazard Table--Who Tells First for a Crown--Philip Thicknesse--'An Excursion to Brighthelmstone, made in the year 1789'--Saloon at the Pavilion, Brighton--Waiting for Dinner--At Dinner--After Dinner--Preparing for Supper--Four o'clock in Town--Four o'clock in the Country--Fox-Hunters Relaxing--John Nichols--Miniature groups and scenes 268 1791. The Pantheon--The Prospect before us, Nos. 1 and 2--Chaos is Come Again--Sheets of picturesque etchings--The Attack--Bardolph Badgered--An Imperial Stride--The Grand Battle between the Famous English Cock and the Russian Hen--A Little Tighter--A Little Bigger--Damp Sheets--English Barracks--French Barracks--Slugs in a Sawpit--The Prince's jockey, Chiffney--How to _Escape_ Winning--How to _Escape_ Losing--Angelo's Fencing Rooms--Notorious Fencers--The Inn-yard on Fire--A Squall in Hyde Park--Illustrations to Fielding's 'Tom Jones'--Smollett's 'Adventures of Peregrine Pickle'--'Délices de la Grande Bretagne' 283 1792. St. James's and St. Giles's--Work for Doctors' Commons--Six Stages of Marring a Face--Six Stages of Mending a Face--Ruins of the Pantheon--Hogarthian Novelist: 'Adventures of Roderick Random'--Philosophy Run Mad--On her Last Legs--Studious Gluttons--Cold Broth and Calamity--An Italian Family--The Hypochondriac--Benevolence--The Contrast: which is Best? British Liberty, or French Liberty? 306 1793. Reform Advised: Reform Begun: Reform Complete--New Shoes--Illustrations to Smollett's novels--Illustrations to a 'Narrative of the War'--Illustrations to Fielding's novels 319 1794. The Grandpapa--The Foreigner Stared out of Countenance--Traffic--The Invasion Scare: Village Cavalry Practising in a Farmyard--A Visit to the Uncle--A Visit to the Aunt--Bad News upon the Stock Exchange 321 1795. Harmony: Effects of Harmony: Discord--A Master of the Ceremonies Introducing a Partner 326 1796. Sir Alan Gardiner--Portraits--An Impartial Narrative of the War 327 1797. Theatrical Candidate--Views in the Netherlands--'Tiens bien ton Bonnet, et toi, defends ta Queue'--Cupid's Magic Lanthorn 330 1798. The Hunt Dinner--Illustrations to the 'Comforts of Bath,' in twelve plates--'The New Bath Guide, or Memoirs of the Blunderhead Family; in a series of poetical epistles,' by Christopher Anstey--Views of London--The Invasion Panic: Volunteers and Recruiting--The Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise--The Glorious Victory obtained over the French Fleet off the Nile, August 1, 1798, by the gallant Admiral Lord Nelson of the Nile--High Fun for John Bull, or the Republicans put to their Last Shift--The Discovery--'Annals of Horsemanship'--The Academy for Grown Horsemen--'Love in Caricature' 333 1799. Cries of London--A Charm for a Democracy--An Artist Travelling in Wales--Nautical Characters--An Irish howl--Etchings after the old masters--St. Giles's Courtship--St. James's Courtship--Connoisseurs--Horse Accomplishments--Comforts of the City--Procession of a Country Corporation--Forget and Forgive--A Note of Hand--Legerdemain--A Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East--Subjects engraved after designs by Bunbury--Distress--Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise--Loyal Volunteers of London and the Environs 354 _ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST._ Buyers and readers of books, all admirers of pictures, drawings, and engravings--in a word, the intelligent, and, let us hope, larger proportion of the community--are well aware, if they are inclined to search for information in respect to the celebrities of art, or would inquire into the personal careers of the renowned pioneers and practitioners of the serious branches of the profession, of whatever period, school, or nationality, that numerous sources of reference, tolerably easy of access, are open to the seeker without being driven far abroad in his quest. [Illustration] There exist, as we are all thoroughly aware, abundant lives of artists, dictionaries of painters, and other prolific sources of information upon the practisers of the sober walks of pictorial art, with rich collections of engravings from their works, in fact, a complete library of delightful literature, which goes far towards proving that the world at least acknowledges a slight interest in individuals as well as works, and that people care to learn some particulars of the men who spent their industrious existences, and devoted the gifts of their admitted genius and application to the humanising walks of life, and to the fitting illustration of the world's universal passions and history, or to the delineation of the ever-varying beauties of nature under picturesque aspects. Wealthy collectors, the cultivated patrons of material refinement, frequenters of picture galleries, those who love pictures by instinct, art amateurs, and the hopeful and fervent student, have alike a provision prepared for them in this regard, which happily leaves little to be desired. The memoirs of artists--men whose domestic and inner lives in so many instances teach lessons of gentleness, simplicity, and singleness of purpose, of perseverance under difficulties; making manifest to a world which is often slow to give them credit for the gifts that are in them, the strong impulses of talent under untoward conditions--are, for the most part, tender memorials, labours of love, cherished productions of biographers, whose own natural qualifications and trained appreciation of the subtler attractions of art have brought them into more intimate communion with the memorable subjects of their studies. It has ever been a source of regret to the writer, since his youthful fancies were first won by the marvels of grotesque art, and the pleasant creations of the graphic humourists, that while the names of the designers, familiarly known as _caricaturists_--who have enriched the more playful branches of the profession--are household words, no fitting memorials are to be found of the careers of these draughtsmen of true genius; they knew their generation, as is instanced in the inexhaustible memorials they have bequeathed their descendants in their works, and while they were themselves thoroughly familiar with the varied aspects and workings of the social life with which they were surrounded, their generation knew them not, and took no care to preserve any record of the capricious wits whose pleasant inventions had often afforded them enjoyment. The humourists, who did so much to contribute towards the amusement of others, have been suffered to pass away, in too many cases, as impersonalities. The works of their fanciful and fertile imaginations have been accepted on all hands and allotted their recognised position among the other agreeable accessories of life, while the gifted professors have, with one or two notable exceptions, which make the reverse the more marked, been pretty generally passed over, if they are thought of at all under the relationship of realistic characters, as mythical beings, less tangible--as regards their connection with the living people of their generations, of whose persons, habits, and follies they have bequeathed animated instances to posterity--than the most weird and fantastic creations of their own pencils or etching-points, emanations of the mind, whose utmost substance amounts to paper, and printing-ink, and ideas. [Illustration] The whimsical conceptions which owe their origin to Gillray, Rowlandson, Bunbury, Ramberg, Woodward, Dighton, Nixon, Newton, Boyne, Collings, Kingsbury, Isaac Cruikshank, his son, 'the glorious George,' the veteran calcographist, who has just passed away full of years and reputation, Lane, Heath, Seymour, and a bevy of their contemporaries, were in their day tolerably familiar, their etchings and sketches were in the hands of the print-buying public of the period, and they enjoy, as far as these relics of the past are concerned, a posthumous reputation which varies according to the merits of their productions, a generation or two having assigned them their just relative positions on the ladder of fame; all the inimitable amusing travesties which reproduce the manners, and even the sentiments of past celebrities and perished generations, owe their creation to artists who were suffered to labour in partial obscurity; while the creatures of their brains were in the hands of every one, their contemporaries, for the most part, did not trouble themselves sufficiently to reflect whether the designers had any real existence, possibly classing the actual, practical, living, and working men under the category of abstract ideas in their own minds, impalpable atomies, less substantial than their tangible satirical pictures, which enjoyed a popular circulation. The late Thomas Wright, F.S.A. (with the collaboration of an earnest worker in the same field, the late F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A., who contributed the valuable aid of his pencil), has done a great deal for the subject in his 'History of the Grotesque in Literature and Art,' and still more in his 'Caricature History of the Three Georges.' 'The Caricature History of the Fourth George,' which offers a still wider field of selection, as regards political and pictorial squibs and satires, has yet to appear. [Illustration] A preliminary contribution to the history of caricature, as an attempt to repair in some measure the oversight of indifferent contemporaries, 'The Works of James Gillray the Caricaturist, with the Story of his Life and Times,' published under the auspices of Messrs. Chatto and Windus, has already met with a favourable reception at the hands of the press and the public; the present writer devoted several years to the completion of the volume, with the solitary end in view of associating the artist more intimately with his works, in the estimation of the public, before it was too late. Mr. Thomas Wright, as an indefatigable pioneer in a comparatively unbeaten track, deserved personal recognition on the strength of his important contributions, bearing on the political history of the House of Hanover, as duly set forth in the present writer's introduction, and to his name was offered such repute as was conferred by the editorship. The writer, from his gleanings in the same direction, has been able to offer the public a sketch of the 'Life of Henry Bunbury the Caricaturist,' with slighter _croquis_ of his contemporaries. During the interval since the first intention of compiling the present volume as a further contribution to the literature of caricature assumed a definite form, some ten years back, the preparation of the work, imperfect and incomplete as it confessedly must remain--a mere _ébauche_ at best--has been proceeding by slow and toilsome stages, the self-imposed task being rendered a more difficult one than in the instance of James Gillray,[1] from the disheartening circumstance that it is utterly impossible to arrive at anything approaching a comprehensive view of the works of Rowlandson; no adequate collection being in existence, as far as the writer has discovered, with the possible exception of an accumulation in the hands of Mr. Harvey of St. James's Street, the advantages of which gathering (it has been going on steadily for years) have hitherto remained inaccessible to the editor, the possessor's time having been too occupied by the requirements of his other engagements to permit him to arrange the prints as he wishes. This circumstance is to be regretted, since Mr. Harvey admits the personal interest he feels in caricature, upon which, when communicatively inclined, he is able to furnish very valuable information, in part the results of his own wide experience as a purchaser, and still more, perhaps, of painstaking investigations conducted for his private delectation; as his position and opportunities enable him to gratify his tastes in this direction to the fullest extent, it is hinted that on occasions he may feel disposed to furnish the critic with certain valuable facts of a special nature, drawn from the results of his own practical investigations in directions not generally available. This gentleman is, undoubtedly, an authority, and as, it is believed, he possesses unrivalled opportunities for forming a unique collection of prints by any master whose works he may fancy, the writer has, from season to season for the past six years, deferred the completion of his volume on the faith of a generous-sounding promise that he should be allowed to consult Mr. Harvey's collection of prints by Rowlandson, which, according to his knowledge, must be both interesting and valuable, and may possibly contain a great deal that has escaped his previous researches, however zealously they may have been instituted. [Illustration] The sacrifice of time, labour, and patience involved in attempting to compile anything approaching a fairly compendious summary of Rowlandson's etchings is simply incredible. The desire to furnish a complete catalogue, though seemingly reasonable in itself at the first glance, is discovered upon experience to be practically impossible, and hence out of the question as regards arrangement; the productions of the artist, multiplied by pen, graver, and etching-point, as supplied by the hand of the master, or reproduced by other engravers, are legion, and where the examples are scattered no amount of application can adequately ascertain. As far as kindly assistance is concerned, the writer has to acknowledge, with sincere gratitude, that where his previous experience has taught him to anticipate courtesies, he has been gratified in the highest degree, and he is proud to record that he once more finds himself indebted for cordial sympathy to the best qualified experts of the day. [Illustration] Mr. G. W. Reid,[2] the respected keeper of the prints and drawings in the British Museum, with Messrs. Fagan and Donaghue, urbane members of his staff, have at all times made his access easy to the invaluable collection of social and political caricatures in his department; Mr. George Bullen (whose affability and scholarly acquirements are proverbial), the respected keeper of the printed books in the same magnificent national institution, has been able to facilitate the writer's quest of illustrations and caricatures by Rowlandson, so far as they come within the scope of the important department which that gentleman so efficiently administers; the obliging and accomplished custodian of the superb collection belonging to the _Bibliothèque Nationale_ of France has most readily allowed the writer to avail himself of the select and valuable gathering of caricatures by Rowlandson, which are to be found under his charge. It must be mentioned that the caricature resources of the royal collection in the museum at Brussels were as courteously placed at his service by the well-informed custodian, who, it may be added, takes a considerable individual interest in this branch as illustrative of men and manners under special aspects. The writer has pursued his perquisitions as far as the national state collection of engravings contained in the Trippenhuizen Museum, Amsterdam. These magnificent national institutions are all, more or less, rich in caricatures of an historical description, but unfortunately, as regards the success of the present undertaking, the works of Rowlandson, numerous as they are, happen to be the reverse of the strong features of their collections of satirical prints, either political or social. The writer has accordingly been thrown back, to a dispiriting extent, on his own necessarily restricted resources; and the numerous illustrations which accompany this volume are for the most part unavoidably drawn from his own folios. The principal source from whence it was hoped the best information could be detached proved utterly and exceptionally valueless; the writer refers to the important publishing establishments (and the successors who carry on the firms at the present day), whence the far-famed caricatures were originally issued. The firms of the Humphries, Hollands, Jackson, J. R. Smith, and others under whose auspices the artist's earliest, and in several instances most finished and ambitious works, first secured their lasting reputation, have long become extinct, as far as the editor is informed. But three leading print-publishing houses, established by Rowlandson's principal patrons, to whom the publication of the major part of his works was due, are still flourishing, under conditions modified to harmonise with the requirements of the present age, by descendants and successors of the well-known founders. These resources have proved, however, a disappointing failure, as far as assistance towards the compilation of a catalogue of the artist's productions is concerned. To Mr. Rudolph Ackermann, the respected inaugurator of the 'Repository of Arts,' a truly liberal and enterprising gentleman, who will be referred to at greater length in the course of this volume, Rowlandson (with many other professional artists and authors) was deeply indebted both for business-like co-operation, for the pains he took to sell the artist's countless original drawings, for personal encouragement, untiring friendship, and pecuniary accommodation. Messrs. Ackermann have unfortunately preserved no account of the numerous publications due to the hand of the caricaturist, and issued for half-a-century by their respected firm, nor have they any collection of impressions from the plates they gave to the public. [Illustration] The same observation applies to Mr. William Tegg, whose father, the indefatigable and well-known Thomas Tegg of Cheapside, published hundreds of the satirist's later and cruder caricatures, which were more generally familiar in the windows of printsellers, &c., since copies were multiplied to a larger extent than was practicable in the case of delicately finished aquatints, which gave fewer impressions, and commanded higher prices. Consequently, Rowlandson is better known to the public by his least desirable prints, and under his most common-place aspect. Mr. S. W. Fores seems to have issued an important proportion of Rowlandson's larger and more valuable plates, with the addition of an immense number of small subjects etched by Rowlandson, and finished by clever aquatinters, published in a more costly form than was generally the custom of the time. The successors of this gentleman have mentioned that the firm has not preserved any list of the publications issued under its original and well-recognised standing, in respect to satirical production, as _Fores' Caricature Museum_, but it is understood that, at the present writing, there still remains in the house a collection, in huge volumes, of early impressions from the multitudinous plates issued from the establishment under its earlier auspices--a publisher's summary, in short, such as, it is to be regretted, is rarely preserved for any length of time. Unfortunately, owing to the exigencies of their modern print business, the writer has not been permitted to consult this highly interesting collection; he has, however, been informed, as an equivocal sort of consolation for his discomfiture, by the member of the firm to whom his application was addressed, that the major part of the prints, as far as the works of Rowlandson are concerned, are of a political character, and that the interesting and valuable social engravings are wanting; he also learns that nothing of importance by Rowlandson is to be found in this collection. [Illustration] [Illustration] It is worthy of note, that the majority of the caricatures described in the present work, as published by S. W. Fores, belong almost entirely to the more attractive order of social satires, and pictorial skits at home and abroad, or cartoons levelled at the leaders of fashion, holding up the prevalent follies of the hour to legitimate ridicule. The writer confesses that he is inclined to feel a deeper regret at his inability to describe these political prints, presuming his informant, who certainly ought to know, is correct in this conclusion, since he is unable to account for their existence, as amongst the immense number of caricatures published by S. W. Fores, he has not hitherto lighted upon the series in question. Rowlandson's political prints--which, as the reader will realise in the progress of this compilation, are numerous enough in all conscience--were mostly published, as regards the early examples, by Humphries (a few of the somewhat hackneyed Westminster Election set, 1784, were due to S. W. Fores, it is acknowledged); while his later productions in this field, such as the succession of plates attacking Buonaparte, were issued from Ackermann's Repository of Arts, or circulated by Thomas Tegg (like the series treating of that _Delicate Investigation_, the Clarke scandal), according to the circumstances of the artist's employment or the cost of the plates. Popular prices being a requisition in the case of the sets published from the City, a coarser method of execution, with unmistakable instances of haste, detract in an unqualified degree from the interest of these prints, as instances of the artist's ability, which is exhibited to greater advantage in productions where his skill was allowed a more liberal exercise, as is evidenced in the capitally executed plates published by the West End print-selling firms. The hopeful chances of aid from fountain-heads, upon experience, diminished to zero; and, while obstacles multiplied, the writer found it necessary to redouble his energy. As it proved that his own collection must, in the end, serve as the main source of reliance, fresh efforts were made to increase his gathering, and valuable additions were gradually secured. The process was somewhat tedious and costly withal, but it was the only course left open, unless the intention was renounced after the work had been advertised in progress. Print-sellers' shops, at home and abroad, were ransacked, and auctions of engravings were attended, whenever the alluring word _caricatures_ occurred in the catalogue. The supply was remarkably limited, the demand considerable and increasing; and prices, from the nature of the request, shortly became unreasonable. Choice caricatures, or those in fairly good condition, were pushed up to nearly the prices of the original drawings, and even at these enhanced rates but few examples were forthcoming. In Paris, Brussels, and London, a five-pound note became about a fair equivalent for a moderately fine impression after Rowlandson, if the plate were large and the subject important or curious, while for certain of the more sought-after examples, this rate was doubled; for such plates as _Vauxhall Gardens_, dealers expect a still larger price--indeed, five-and-twenty pounds have been demanded in many instances. The chances of fresh examples by Rowlandson coming into the market have decreased, and possibly the competition will relax when there is no longer a chance of exciting it. [Illustration] The writer has necessarily made the acquaintance of several gentlemen who are fervent collectors of Rowlandson's works, and he by no means ignores his obligations to those happy possessors of rarer specimens, who have frequently carried them off with an air of conquest from discomfited rival amateurs, the condition of their purses, and the artistic enthusiasm aroused at the moment, rendering similar triumphs comparatively facile, when incidental questions as to actual worth are too insignificant to engage the attention. Certain collectors of eminence, who are discriminating selectors of caricatures, well qualified to judge of their technical merits, and who, further, are well posted up in curious and out-of-the-way points of the political and social histories of the times thus illustrated, have volunteered the results of their researches; these good-natured offers have arrived too late to be available, but the writer is not the less indebted to the kindness which prompted the action; in an earlier and preparatory stage, these advances would have been of considerable value and assistance. [Illustration] So much for the materials; perhaps too much stress has been laid, as far as the reader's patience is concerned, on the preliminary difficulties which have hindered and weakened the execution of the writer's desire to reproduce, by pencil and pen, a fair gathering of the works of our greatest humorous designers, an idea long cherished, and tardily carried out, as regards the first part of his task, _James Gillray_; and beset, as he has recounted, in respect to THOMAS ROWLANDSON, the concluding portion, by unforeseen impediments and technical difficulties which it would be tedious to enumerate; they may, however, in a minor degree, be taken into consideration as a plea for the obvious shortcomings of this laborious compilation, and, while inclining rigid specialists to be less exacting, induce critics to regard the unavoidable faults of the performance with lenient forbearance. [Illustration] For the space of a century, Rowlandson's caricatures, which are more properly _croquis_ of the life which surrounded him, have continued to afford delight to the appreciators of graphic humour, from the date, 1775, when he sent his first contribution to the Royal Academy. It was only this year (1878) that a pair of his remarkably spirited drawings, _Faro Table at Devonshire House_, and _A Gaming Table_, attracted considerable praise and attention on the walls of the Grosvenor Gallery. Although the artist was master of the most elegant refinement, both of delineation and colouring, and produced the most delicious female heads with that lightness and daintiness of touch which was his peculiar gift, bringing all the graces, sparkle and animation of the French school to bear upon the models of winsome female beauty our own favoured isles produced for the exercise of his pencil, we are constrained to admit, thus early in our summary, that too many of his productions are strongly tinctured by that coarseness of subject and sentiment which has been held to disfigure the works of contemporary humorists; his wit, it must be remembered, was of the jocose school of Smollett and Fielding, and in justice it must be taken into consideration that his designs, even in their most uncompromising and grosser aspects, simply reflect the colour of a period which was the reverse of squeamish, and, as has been pertinently observed by the late Thomas Wright, 'of a generation celebrated for anything rather than delicacy.' [Illustration] The artist was pretty generally recognised as the famous illustrator of _Doctor Syntax_ and _The Dance of Death_, and in this relation he is fairly acknowledged by posterity; this limited view, as the present volume is designed to demonstrate, being far indeed from an adequate acknowledgment of his proper artistic standing. Rowlandson's higher qualifications, as a draughtsman in water-colours of remarkable merit, a portrait-painter of felicitous promise, and the originator of countless witty and pointed conceptions, were discovered more tardily. His surprising facility for representing the human figure, with knowledge and freedom of execution, his marvellous power of combining groups and crowds of figures in active movement, his grasp of expression, and fluency of colour and handling, were more particularly admitted (though in a sense they have since been lost sight of) after the Exhibition of 1862, where two of his truly characteristic subjects, of considerable size, made their appearance on the walls, to the amazement and delight of the spectators, who had no previous acquaintance with his whimsical genius. These two drawings, which opened the eyes of the world to his gifts for a little season, are entitled _An English Review_ and _A French Review_; they originally formed a very noticeable feature on the walls of the Royal Academy in 1786; it is believed that eventually they came into the possession of the Prince of Wales, and, with the rest of George IV.'s collection, have remained in keeping of the royal family ever since, her gracious Majesty, the Queen, being pleased to lend them, with other fine representative examples of art, to the Exhibition Commissioners of 1862. The _English Review_, and its companion drawing, a _French Review_, hang at Windsor Castle, where we are informed there is a very large accumulation of caricatures, drawings and prints, put away in a closet, in the order of their appearance; which, it is likely, have remained undisturbed for generations. It is not impossible that, hidden away in this mass of satirical productions, may be found the series of drawings, notoriously of a free tendency as regards subject, which Rowlandson is understood to have produced for the delectation of George IV. A collection of a similar description was, as we learn from the same authority, destroyed by a nobleman well known for his princely liberality, on the death of the patron who had selected the subjects. In the unrivalled collection of water-colour drawings of the English school, which are found on the walls of the sumptuous permanent Museum of Art at South Kensington, are exhibited three characteristic examples of Rowlandson's talents in the caricature direction. _The Parish Vestry_, 1784, a humorous and spirited drawing, belonging to the artist's best time, formed part of the munificent gift made by Mr. William Smith to the nation; as did the second example, entitled _Brook Green Fair_, which we should assign to about the year 1800. The third drawing, representing _The old Elephant and Castle Inn, Newington_, is also due to a liberal donor, being the gift of G. W. Atkinson, Esq. [Illustration] As has been related, the caricaturist produced thousands of capital drawings, delicately tinted, excelling in all styles; and from these original designs, he executed in turn thousands of spirited etchings with his own hand, which were frequently coloured to reproduce the first sketches, or aquatinted by engravers (sometimes by himself), in imitation of drawings tenderly shaded in Indian ink, to which, in some instances, the resemblance is sufficiently faithful to deceive the eye of anyone who is not familiar with this method of reproduction. It must be borne in mind--and we insist the more earnestly on this point, as, from some incomprehensible wilfulness, it has seemingly been suffered to sink out of sight for a time--in treating of Rowlandson, that the man was essentially an artist; it is undoubtedly true that he was gifted (perhaps we might consider fatally as far as his proper estimation is concerned) with the faculty known as _caricature_, and he excelled in burlesque, but his successes were sufficiently high in other branches of the artist's profession to indicate that he was equally qualified by original talents, by academic training which he might have turned to the best advantage, by a sense of the beautiful unusually keen, and a happy power of expressing his first impressions, to take a foremost place amongst the best recognised masters of the early English school, to whose body he might have been an ornament, if he had not preferred his chosen calling of 'a free-lance' with a roving commission to work mischief. His remarkable gifts of originality, ever fertile, and apparently exhaustless, and facile powers of invention, either pleasant or terrific, which seemed spontaneous, were in his case insurmountable hindrances, instead of promoting his advancement and reputation as a painter of acknowledged value and eminence. He had the calamity--so fatal, in his and many other instances, to serious application--to succeed without sensible effort; from the very first his progress was a series of triumphs; none of the students of the Academy could draw such ludicrous and yet life-like figures, and thus his popularity with his fellow-labourers was assured; his studies from the nude, both in London and in Paris, were wonderful for the rapid ease and talent with which they were executed, and hence arose another source of glorification, and although personal vanity has never been mentioned in connection with the artist (he being thoroughly blind to everything but his own particular hobbies), the professors at home and abroad, and the members of the Academy themselves, were proud to patronise in their classes such precocious ability, which could accomplish the most difficult delineations without effort, and thus reflected credit on their schools; and the prodigy who drew from the life, in his youth, as vigorously and well as the most painstaking adepts in their maturity, could not fail to receive a dangerous amount of admiration, which tempted him to depend upon trifling exertions, and left his ambition without a spur. [Illustration] While yet in his boyhood he was recognised as a genius, and was unhappily flattered into becoming a wayward one; the very fluency of his pencil, and the fidelity of his memory towards the grotesque side of things proved his stumbling-blocks. It is with more than a passing shade of regret that we reflect, with his far-seeing colleagues at the Academy and elsewhere, how eminent a painter was lost in the development of a _caricaturist_, admirable and unsurpassed in his own branch as Rowlandson must admittedly remain. The gifts which were in the man were marvellous, and beyond this he possessed nerve to persevere, and manly resolution to sustain his exertions, as he proved in his youth, and subsequently demonstrated when past life's meridian, times then being less prosperous, since fortunes and legacies had long ceased to fall in adventitiously, but the very excitement of setting the little world wondering, and making the public smile, while his tickled audience accorded him the cheapest popularity by crowding in admiration round his travesties, turned the wilful artist away from serious application, where no immediate fun was to be secured for either the limner or his following. Rowlandson's sense of feminine loveliness, of irresistible graces of face, expression, and attitude, was unequalled in its way; several of his female portraits have been mistaken for sketches by Gainsborough or Moreland, and as such, it is possible, since the caricaturist is so little known in this branch, that many continue to pass current. From 1777 to 1781, five years of Rowlandson's residence in Wardour Street, with all the freshness of his academic studies, and the laurels unfaded he had won in the schools, with golden opinions, as a youth of paramount promise, indulged by the most eminent of the Royal Academicians and the French professors, the artist practised the more laborious and prosaic, but surer branch of portrait-painting with success, and his pictures were duly received by his patrons and well-wishers amongst the omnipotent Forty, and found their place on the walls of the Royal Academy Exhibition without a break--no barren compliment when it is remembered that his compeers were Reynolds, Gainsborough, and Hoppner, and that of the two or three hundred works selected for the gallery at the period referred to, the superb canvases of the artists named constituted an average of over ten per cent. of the entire exhibits. [Illustration] If we but think for a passing instant over the winsome portraitures of fair women, whose faces live, for the delectation of all time, on the canvases of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Romney, and a few lesser luminaries, it is cruel to realise that Rowlandson, from sheer wantonness (promoted by what seemed a happy hit in 1784),[3] neglected his opportunities in the direction of portraiture, with an indifference which, while proving his disinterestedness and superiority to mere profit, is the more exasperating when we are frequently told, as every one of Rowlandson's contemporaries who has mentioned the caricaturist never fails to reiterate, that the successive presidents of the Royal Academy, the great Reynolds, the royally patronised West, the courtly and fashionable Lawrence, the very men we have mentioned who were, it must be conceded, the most competent judges on the point, pronounced their conviction that his abilities entitled to acceptance, as one of themselves, a brother artist whose addition to their ranks they would have gloried to acknowledge, since he had the undoubted genius to reflect a lustre on the Academy, if he had exerted his talents in the recognised channels, and withstood the impulse of his notoriety for producing irresistibly droll novelties, which, as they foresaw, must infallibly prove pernicious to the practice of sober portraiture. The versatile acquirements of our artist may, in a sense, be looked upon as an infirmity, a theory which had been thoroughly established while the subject of it remained in the flesh, and enjoyed a certain perverse gratification in contributing to support its soundness and perspicacity. [Illustration] In landscape art we discover Rowlandson successfully rivalling the most respected practitioners in water-colours amongst his contemporaries, and helping the younger professional generation, that carried the art to perfection, to discard the obsolete theories of blackness for clear translucid colouring. His studies after nature are much esteemed, and are to be occasionally recognised in galleries and collections. It is a sufficiently capricious circumstance which has come within our experience--we have heard it asserted confidently more than once--that Rowlandson, the simple harmonious colourist and ready draughtsman, whose brush with limpid tints so deftly translated on paper the charms of sylvan scenes; the truthful artist who pictured the forest, fall, and glade, the distant hamlets amidst the foliage, the picturesque windings of the silver stream, the rustic cottages, the cattle wending leisurely through the fertile pastures, the mellow atmosphere, and the far-extending horizon, is often held a distinct individual from that other universally known Rowlandson--of equivocal reputation, it is hinted--whose daring reed-pen produced grotesques which perhaps were inimitable, but which, it is certain, were often indefensibly vulgar. The artist's facility was so considerable that, had he been less scrupulous (his horror of fraud and imposition, especially in their pecuniary reference, was implacable, in spite of, or perhaps in contradistinction to, his other levities), he could have allowed his own productions, in the manner of his reputable contemporaries, and even of deceased celebrities, whose subjects and method he chose to imitate as a question of pure ingenuity--(while his own style is above all difficult to reproduce)--to pass current as veritable originals by the masters. A book of etchings consisting entirely of these imitations is described in the course of this work, and he has managed to assume, without copying any particular picture, the _modus operandi_ of the artists, and has varied his own manner of execution and disguised his salient individualities with such subtlety, that, even to the etching-point, slight trace of Rowlandson remains to betray the acknowledged imposition. In his sketches after nature, as we have ventured to advance in respect to his female portraits and delicious studies from life, in many instances it is difficult to distinguish between the artless rustic groupings and charming pastoral drawings by George Moreland and Thomas Gainsborough, let alone those of Barrett, Hills, Howitt, Pugh, and other of his associates (who executed pictures lightly outlined with a reed-pen, shaded with a warm tint and delicately washed with transparent water-colours, as was then the process),[4] and the acknowledged contributions of our versatile genius to this department, in the earlier stages of the captivating art of water-colour drawing. [Illustration] The writer, in the course of his preparation for this work, has been at the pains to consult more than one well-recognised artist of reputation and authority; seeking for hints from professors whose celebrity extended well back towards the beginning of the nineteenth century; these respected ancients, who are now nearly all gathered to the shades to join the subject of this volume, being from their age, knowledge, and experience, as well as from the traditions of their earlier masters, most likely to know and remember circumstances of a special character bearing upon the subject. Some of these worthies were actually working as contemporaries of the caricaturist who departed fifty years ago. The last time the writer met George Cruikshank, a few months before that truly splendid old gentleman passed away, full of years and honour, to his well-earned repose, he took occasion to allude to the veteran's acknowledged admiration for the works of his extraordinarily endowed predecessor, James Gillray, in whose footsteps he had very literally commenced his career, being selected during the lifetime of the gifted caricaturist (when Gillray's genius had proved too exacting for the tension of his faculties, and his reason had unhappily departed, never to be restored beyond an occasional lucid flitter) to complete several plates which the attacks of his malady had suspended. George Cruikshank, the most deservedly popular of the name, was not a little proud of having been thought worthy, while still a very young man (Gillray's faculties were deranged in 1811), to take up the plates of the first genius that has adorned his art. With the earnestness of his disposition, and perhaps with characteristic partiality, he regarded the unfortunate Gillray as the greatest man, in his eyes, who ever lived, indisputably 'the prince of caricaturists,' as he has appropriately christened him, and this title, won from a loving disciple, who, in his turn, became still more famous, is likely to last as long as the great caricaturist is remembered. [Illustration] George Cruikshank voluntarily called on the writer to express the interest he good-naturedly felt in certain slight records of past caricaturists then publishing, and to communicate some valuable facts about the works of his father, a meritorious artist whose reputation would be widely increased if his pictures, exhibited at the Royal Academy, were better known. On a subsequent occasion the cheery veteran imparted various anecdotes on the subject within his knowledge, but confessed that he had never been admitted to terms of personal familiarity with either Gillray or Rowlandson in the flesh. It was his father, Isaac Cruikshank--for whose graphic powers in the same walk he expressed the best deserved and truest filial respect--who enjoyed their intimacy, and it was he who related (with a genial force happily done justice to by his descendant) to his deeply interested son the circumstances with which George was acquainted. The writer was naturally eager to gather, while there was yet time, any facts which might be of importance for the furtherance of his contemplated sketch of Rowlandson's career, which was then occupying all his energies, from the last representative of the famous caricaturists, who formed, in himself, so desirable a link with the generation of the Georgian epoch, which had been dissolved into the thinnest elements for three-fourths of a century back. Cruikshank expressed the most cordial interest in the undertaking, and genially declared, by way of an encouragement, which is the writer's most appreciated reward, that he should look forward to its successful completion, and further promised that if, in revising his notes, and the personal memoirs, touching upon such kindred topics (which, as he imparted, had long employed his leisure), he could discover any allusions of an interesting description to his gifted contemporary Rowlandson, or any similar memoranda left by his father, he would communicate them for the benefit of the present volume. His death has unfortunately prevented the accomplishment of this valued service, which was volunteered spontaneously with his well-known readiness to confer favours. [Illustration] [Illustration] The point about Rowlandson which had most impressed George Cruikshank is somewhat original, and properly belongs to this part of our subject; hence we have been glad to have an opportunity of quoting the trustworthy authority of the aged caricaturist. 'Rowlandson,' said George, 'was a remarkable man in most respects;' the waywardness of his youth and the notoriety of his gambling days seemed to have rather prejudicially influenced the mind of his simpler successor, who had taken his place in 1827, as he had, almost of right, succeeded to the working-table and unfinished plates of James Gillray, many years before. Cruikshank, moreover, considered that Rowlandson's academical successes, his successful rivalry of Mortimer in depicting the nude, the knowledge of his art and the fluency he had acquired, were altogether exceptional features in the profession of a caricaturist, to his English views; but, according to his kindly creed, mellowed by age--his steel a trifle tempered since his own youth, when his shafts too were not without poignancy--'Rolley' was somewhat unreflecting, and reckless in exposing the infirmities of others, having but scant regard for his own reputation or the feelings of society, and further he had suffered himself to be led away from the exercise of his legitimate subjects, to produce works of a reprehensible tendency, which respectable dictum will probably find numerous subscribers. [Illustration: A SHIPPING SCENE.] Strangely as it may sound, it was not as a caricaturist that Rowlandson had gained Cruikshank's admiration; he appreciated the artist enthusiastically as an accomplished water-colour painter, the equal in his opinion of most of the founders of our special school. Rowlandson's masterly power over the delineation of the figure, and his happy gift, amounting almost to inspiration, of portraying female charms of face and person, deserved high regard in Cruikshank's estimation; his peculiarly felicitous pictures of quaint Continental life, and the examples his free and scholarly handling held out, as admirable models of style to the French caricaturists of his day; the social sketches produced in Paris at the beginning of the century, though remarkable for neatness and delicacy, being laborious, formal, timid, and wanting in that racy comicality, and dashing power of expression, characterising the drawings under consideration, to which George accorded unqualified praise. [Illustration] It was chiefly for his skill in landscape delineation that Cruikshank respected the artist under discussion, and more especially, as he declared, warming with his reminiscences of the drawings he called to mind, he had never seen anything superior, in his estimation, to Rowlandson's water-side and maritime sketches, for their clear freshness and simple air of fidelity to nature; the banks of the river, the 'pool' filled with vessels, wharves, landing-places, ports, and naval stations, with the noble men-of-war lying off; and the bustling craft, travelling between the fleet and the shore; the groups of busy figures, far and near, happily introduced in a state of seeming activity; the shipping, which he drew with picturesque ease and dexterity, his far-spreading landscapes and distant horizons, the treatment of the water, the movement of his skies, and the general sense of expanse and atmosphere, were beautiful in the extreme, all noted down, as they were, without apparently a second thought, with the slightest possible labour, recalling in a forcible degree the drawings of William Vandevelde, who was, in Cruikshank's opinion, the only artist whose marine studies could be quoted in comparison with those of Rowlandson. [Illustration] [Illustration: THE QUAY.] We are necessarily anxious to avoid the suspicion of attempting to prove too much, and it must be admitted that we do not pronounce Rowlandson a Rubens, a William Vandevelde, a Reynolds, and a Moreland, all at once; any more than we can be deluded into the belief that his landscape drawings might be claimed by Turner, Girtin, De Wint, Fielding, or David Cox. In treating of our artist in relation to the truly great names which have been frequently put into contrast with his own, it must not be forgotten that his works are spoken of, as they exist, under their modest condition of sketches manipulated in the very slightest manner possible, and, if considered at all in juxtaposition with those of the higher luminaries, it is only by the side of studies executed under similar circumstances; it would be a piece of pretension, entirely out of character on our part, to even suggest submitting Rowlandson's attempts in the most respectable exercise of his talents in competition with the more substantial finished and ambitious pictures bequeathed us by the select few of really eminent painters, whose unrivalled works cannot fail to afford the most unqualified delight to all cultivated lovers of art of whatever school. _Their_ productions are admitted to stand alone, even though there exist diversities of opinion, schisms, and heresies in regard to the generality of the profession. * * * * * In resuming our summary of Rowlandson's conceptions in the _caricature_ branch, we must notice, while contemplating his strongly characterised works, that, while the rest of his competitors in the grotesque walk have in most examples left no record of their prints beyond the plates on which they were executed, for every subject he has produced of his own designing, at least one corresponding drawing has existed, and frequently three or four variations of leading ideas are worked out as completed pictures, without, however, any appearance of experimentalising under difficulties of execution--technical points never puzzled his skill; and such daring flights as Rubens ventured with the brush, in the way of foreshortened and difficult attitudes, Rowlandson's reed-pen accomplished right merrily, as if by its own volition, and without a thought on the part of its highly-trained wielder, about such common-place requirements as the posing of living models or preparatory sketches. The original notions of Rowlandson's whimsical inventions are in the generality of instances far worthier of attention than the most spirited etchings he thought fit to circulate after them; and it is well to keep in mind that the artist has produced some thousands of humorous conceptions (placing his more serious studies out of the question), of which no engraving has ever appeared; and amongst these unpublished delineations may be included several of the most ingenious and attractive pictures executed by his hand, especially from the year 1790, that is to say, for more than two-thirds of his professional life--a circumstance with which every collector of original drawings by this artist is thoroughly conversant. The career of Rowlandson may be divided into periods; the work belonging properly to the several stages is tolerably distinctive as to general characteristics. An adept can positively determine, within a year or two, the particular section to which his designs, when the date happens to be wanting, may be justly assigned, and, as his manifold sketches and etchings extend over the space of half a century, this circumstance is a trifle remarkable in itself. The first period, as far as his published plates are concerned, includes his smaller social and political satires; the execution, though free and fluent, as his productions uniformly were, exhibits indications of care which is not so traceable as his method grew mellower, and practice confirmed the facility which came to him as a gift. These juvenile etchings bear more affinity to Gillray's manner of manipulation than is traceable in his subsequent cartoons. A view of _A Hazard Table_ and its frequenters (_E.O. or the fashionable Vowels_, October 28, 1781) offers perhaps the best indications of his growing powers, between 1774 and 1783. His publishers were Humphrey, Holland, Jackson, and a few others; and he further appears, in conjunction with J. Jones, to have gone into the publishing way himself, at 103 Wardour Street. [Illustration] In 1784 the excitement of the famous Westminster Election seems to have carried him more thoroughly into political satires, and, as we observe, his humour discovered an unflagging source of impulse round the parliamentary candidates, Fox, Wray, and Hood; the fair Duchess of Devonshire, Lady Duncannon, and honest Sam House, the Whig canvassers, and their opponents on the ministerial side, the Hon. Mrs. Hobart (Lady Buckinghamshire), and the Duchess of Gordon; together with the whimsicalities of the polling-booth. If we were asked to select his most noticeable social and satirical effusions, we should incline to particularise _English Curiosity, or the Foreigner stared out of countenance_; 1784, _or the Fashions of the Day_; and _A Sketch from Nature_ (January 24, 1784). In 1784, Rowlandson realised the full extent both of his powers of fancy and his mastery of the art of water-colour delineation. He discontinued the practice of sending portraits to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, in which he had persevered for five years, and contributed in their places three mirth-provoking drawings, which must have produced no little sensation amongst the visitors, who were unaccustomed to such works. These were the inimitable _Vauxhall Gardens_, which reveals his talents at their best, _An Italian Family_, and _The Serpentine River_. In 1785 appeared some of John Raphael Smith's graceful publications after Rowlandson's more refined originals, notably _Vauxhall_, _Opera Boxes_, _Toying and Trifling_, _An Italian Family_, _A French Family_, _Grog on Board_, _Tea on Shore_; _Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green_; _Reconciliation_; _Intrusion on Study, or the Painter disturbed_; _Comfort in the Gout_; and several other excellent subjects in his most finished manner, besides an animated scene after Henry Wigstead, _John Gilpin's Return to London_. Rowlandson sent five important and highly humorous drawings, displaying advanced qualities in the direction of execution, to the Royal Academy in 1786; those of the first consequence were _An English Review_, _A French Review_, the pair exhibited at the International Exhibition 1862; _Opera House Gallery_, under which designation, as we suspect, we recognise his _Box Lobby Loungers_, published the very same year; _A French Family_ (published the year previous); and _A Coffee House_, of which we can discover no further record. Among the engraved works for the same year we must refer to the print of _Box Lobby Loungers_, already mentioned, and _Covent Garden Theatre_, as the most noticeable as to size, subject, and the numerous figures introduced. [Illustration] Rowlandson sent four known works to the Royal Academy, the season following (1787). They were _French Barracks_, a superlative drawing, _Grog on Board a Ship_, _Countrymen and Sharpers_ (engraved by Sherwin as _Smithfield Sharpers_), and _The Morning Dram, or Huntsman rising_, engraved as _Four o'clock in the Country_, S. W. Fores (October 20, 1790). All Rowlandson's contributions for this year have been published; indeed, it is very possible, from the popularity of the caricaturist's novel exhibits, that all the pictures he sent to the Royal Academy were straightway issued on copper. There are two exceptions, _The Serpentine_ and _A Coffee House_, of which the writer has never succeeded in meeting impressions, but it by no means follows that sooner or later they may not come to light, and it does not seem unlikely that the first named, _The Serpentine River_, may be another version of _Cold Broth and Calamity_ (published in 1792). Amongst the engraved works of 1787, the writer instances _Baron Ron's Dental Surgery, or Transplanting of Teeth_, and a series of five _Hunting Scenes_, _The Morning_, _The Meet_, _The Run_, _The Death_, and _The Dinner_, published in a folio size, and now somewhat rarely met with as a set. In the two succeeding years Rowlandson again threw his etching-point into party conflicts, and came out with a shower of political squibs on the amenities of the _Regency Struggle_. Nothing very ambitious in the way of social satires appeared in 1788. Among minor subjects we may allude to _Housebreakers_, _A Cart Race_, _The School for Scandal_, _A Fencing Match_, _A Print Sale_, _Lust and Avarice_, and _Luxury and Desire_, as being slightly above the average. In 1789 and 1790 but few works of exceptional character were issued to gratify Rowlandson's devoted admirers or the general public. _She don't deserve it!_ _Don't he deserve it?_ _A Racing Series_, _The Course_, _The Betting Post_, _The Mount_, _The Start_, and _A Fresh Breeze_, take the lead. _La Place des Victoires à Paris_ belongs to 1789, and, in the writer's estimation, it is perhaps one of the most attractive subjects due to the artist's pencil, exhibiting, as it does, the quaint surroundings of Parisian life, as noted by the caricaturist before the Revolutionary era--delineations of feminine beauty, and studies of real character, such as no effort of the imagination could fabricate, unless assisted by travel, a familiar acquaintance with the locality, and keen observation. A fitting companion is given to this delightful subject in another important drawing, crowded with diversified life and animated groups, produced in 1800; _The Thuilleries in Paris_, a reminiscence of previous studies in the French metropolis, of manners noted anterior to the destruction of antiquated fashions; the dainty _belles_ of _ton_, and the picturesque society which might be discovered flourishing under the reign of Louis XVI., before the inauguration of the all-devouring Republic, which worked more change in a few feverish months of turbulence, in which all the recognised phases of the past were lost, than many sober decades had effected in their better regulated courses. [Illustration] The best of Rowlandson's publications for 1790 were _A Kick-up at a Hazard Table_, in which, as may be supposed, he was perfectly at home; _Four o'clock in the Morning in Town_, which was also in the artist's way, and its companion, _Four o'clock in the Morning in the Country_; _Frog-hunting_ (Gallic _gourmets fins_), and _Tythe Pig_, a fine old English equivalent. The year 1791 was richer in those more ambitious plates, which the writer is seeking to identify, and several of the caricaturist's choicer subjects appeared, etched by his hand, and finished in aquatint, to facsimile the meritorious original drawings. _A Squall in Hyde Park_ is one of the score or two of delineations of the highest type, which adequately demonstrate the exceptional qualifications of the artist; and these, we have no hesitation in averring, have never been excelled in their walk, as far as executive ability, sense of loveliness, grouping, movement, grasp of character, powers of observation, and diverting qualities are concerned. Another remarkable subject of extraordinary ability, founded on Rowlandson's Continental studies, entitled _French Barracks_ (exhibited in 1787), and its pendant, _English Barracks_, were issued this year. _An Inn Yard on Fire_, belonging to the same important series; _The Attack_; _The Prospect before us_; _The Pantheon_; _Chaos is Come Again_, in allusion to the dilapidated state of Drury Lane theatre condemned by the surveyors; _Toxophilites_; _House breakers_; _Damp Sheets_ and _Slugs in a Saw Pit_, among the numerous lesser subjects, bring up the total of the truly estimable works which gratified the public in 1791. _Cold Broth and Calamity_, a skating scene representing disasters in the park, from a ludicrous point of view; _A Dutch Academy_, drawn from the caricaturist's experiences in the Netherlands; and _Studious Gluttons_ were the leading plates published in 1792. [Illustration] _New Shoes_, a small, but delicate subject, belongs to 1793. In 1797 appeared the admirable plates published after Rowlandson's studies in the Netherlands; we cannot too highly commend such inimitable originals as _Fyge Dam, Amsterdam_; _Stadt House, Amsterdam_; _Companion View, Amsterdam_; and _Place de Mer, Antwerp_. _Admiral Nelson Recruiting with his Brave Tars after the Glorious Battle of the Nile_, was published in 1798; a series of _London Views_, of considerable merit and importance, entrances to the great metropolis from the four leading turnpikes; and a series of twelve plates portraying the _Comforts of Bath_, are most worthy of attention in the same year, as were some large studies of reviews of the Volunteer Forces, held under the threat of the anticipated French invasion. _Distress_, from a large picture, indicating the horrors of shipwreck with tragic impressiveness, is assigned to 1799. _Summer Amusement, a Game at Bowls_; _Doctor Botherum, the Mountebank_; _Preparations for the Academy_; _and A French Ordinary_, were among the noticeable features of the artist's publications in 1800; the peculiarly interesting panorama of the Parisian world anterior to the French Revolution, entitled _The Thuilleries in Paris_ was also produced this year. Rowlandson's skill as an etcher had further, about this time, provided him with abundance of work in executing the humorous conceptions of Woodward and Bunbury after his own characteristic fashion. Rowlandson's plate of _The Brilliants_, and a long series of subjects designed by Woodward, with many originals of his own, sufficiently excellent in their order, but not of the first consequence, found their way to the public in 1801. The leading print-publishers at the West End, Rudolph Ackermann, S. W. Fores, Williamson, and Rowlandson himself,[5] at his residence, 1 James Street, Adelphi, issued an inexhaustible collection of highly ludicrous social satires, and numerous patriotic and political subjects, during intervening years; and in 1807 the name of Thomas Tegg of Cheapside was added to the print-publishers who employed the remunerative talents of the indefatigable caricaturist. Rowlandson also continued to execute the whimsical conceptions of less qualified draughtsmen, and swarms of comicalities--by Woodward, Bunbury, Wigstead, Nixon, and other fashionable amateurs, who possessed the humorous vein, but lacked the skill to give their ideas a fitting form for presentation to the public--were put into acceptable shape, and etched by our artist at this period. [Illustration] In 1808 appeared the long succession of _Miseries of Human Life_, of which examples occur in previous years; and Rowlandson settled down, somewhat grimly, under worthy Mr. Ackermann's auspices, to take up the gauntlet against the dreaded Buonaparte, the great little Corsican, against whom Gillray had waged such savage warfare until his powers dwindled into vacancy, and George Cruikshank stepped valiantly into the place of the colossus of caricaturists, and carried on the combat with unflagging zeal and whimsicality on his own account. Rowlandson's ludicrous attacks upon the ambitious 'disturber of the peace of Europe' were duly appreciated by his audience, and the demand for these blood-and-thunder caricatures increased monthly, to the extreme delectation of the great British public, whose antipathies to the conquering general were, at least, founded on sound and excusable principles, and if the overflowing excess of their detestation sometimes blinded the people to points of detail, and wilful misrepresentations passed current, and rather swamped their more generous sentiments--which were put out of sight for awhile--it must be remembered that this patriotic zeal was well directed against the man who had announced his august intention of subjugating England, and was, by accord, considered as the common enemy, and anyone who had indulged the temerity of openly acknowledging the grander elements of his character, since pretty tolerably established, would have been flouted by acclamation, and we are not sure but the national scorn would have fittingly signalised such an unpatriotic enormity. It is certain that the caricaturist's travesties of the little emperor, his burlesques of his great actions, and grandiose declarations (which, in themselves, occasionally overdid the heroic, and trenched hazardously on the ludicrous), his figurative displays of the mean origin of the imperial family, with the cowardice and depravity of its members, won the popular applause; as did the satirist's representations of the hollowness of Boney's vaunted victories, and the treachery of his designs in the days of his success; and, when disasters began to cloud the career of the mighty Napoleon, and cherished projects were met with sickening failures--as army after army, collected for the slaughter by schemes, lies, fraud, and force, melted away, and the prostrate powers of the Continent plucked up courage, singly at first and finally in legions, until the end of the Corsican's glory arrived--the artist lent his skill to celebrate the delight of the public, and the rejoicings over the discomfiture of the traditional bugbear; glib cartoons were hurried off by Ackermann and often by Tegg--the City competing with the West End in the loyal contest of proving the national enmity to Buonaparte, by buying every caricature--the more extravagant the better relished--that the artists, who toiled like Trojans while the harvest lasted, could contrive to furnish in season for the demand. [Illustration] A suspicion crosses our mind that, in too many cases, the incentive was to gratify the hatred of the Corsican, rather than any remarkable inherent merit that could be discovered in the satires; the best of which were but feeble vehicles for the exhibition of the jovial abilities of the designers; who, we dare venture to hint, found themselves a little out of their element, plunged, as it were, in the 'blood and iron' theory, striking out with their etching points with the most approved pantomimic vengeance! Very few of these mock-heroic sallies imprint themselves on the recollection by the sheer force of their own brilliancy, as was the case in the single instance of James Gillray, in the past, and as happened--an undeniable test of the veritable fire of genius--frequently with the cartoons of John Tenniel within our own experience, when the magnitude of the occasion has conjured up the inspiration, and rekindled the latent flame. Our reflections upon the bellicose creations of Rowlandson and Cruikshank, while their hostile vapourings continue irresistibly droll, never stir the more passionate emotions or reach impulses which lie below the surface; being risible, it is true, but the reverse of inspired; and although many a hearty laugh may be enjoyed over the ludicrous turn the twain caricaturists have, in spite of themselves, given to situations of an avowedly tragic tendency, their very fury seems an unctuous jest, their simulated earnestness takes a farcical turn, and the result of a careful review, as the writer has made quite recently, of their prolific slaughterous sallies, is the conviction that, often unconsciously to themselves, they have chiefly succeeded, from the inevitable bent of their innate humoristic impulses, in burlesquing the fiery feeling abroad, which the public were contented to gratify in pictorial guise. It is certain that those discriminating critics best qualified to appreciate the talents of Rowlandson and Cruikshank, who worked up the anti-Corsican crusade contemporaneously, are continually disposed to regret that the wondrous inventive abilities of these fertile designers were not exercised in a more congenial field. [Illustration] Our caricaturist worked away, fierce and implacable, following every turn of Boney's fortunes with a show of savage ardour, until the idol fell in 1815. Rowlandson, in addition to the immense mass of caricatures which he fabricated with unflagging energy, came out brilliantly with several large transparencies, painted for public exhibition, outside Ackermann's Repository, on the occasion of the general illuminations, which fittingly signalised the successes of the allied armies after Leipsig, the final downfall of the Emperor after Waterloo, and the subsequent peace rejoicings. A fresh subject for the exercise of Rowlandson's caricature capabilities was furnished in 1809 by the scandalous revelations which were disclosed, as evidence at the bar of the House of Commons, during the 'inquiry into the corrupt practices of the Commander-in-Chief, in the administration of the army.' With ill-advised weakness the popular Duke of York seems to have transferred the exercise of the patronage legitimately invested in his department, to Mrs. M. A. Clarke, a clever and unscrupulous mistress, whose extravagances he had for awhile contributed to support at Gloucester Place. The demand for this exciting pabulum was sufficiently eager to induce the caricaturist to bring out a fresh pictorial satire almost daily, and sometimes two or more appeared on the same day, while the 'delicate investigation' was proceeding, and the public interest in the circumstances remained at a boiling heat. We are not inclined to argue that any of these ephemeral compositions, superior as they were to the ruck of contemporaneous productions, were worthy, in any degree, of the artist's graphic powers, or were likely to contribute to his celebrity. For some time Rowlandson's ambition seemed to cool down, and although he was working hard, and producing a fair average of results, he appeared satisfied to turn his skill to the most prosaic account, as the means of earning a livelihood. He made no fresh efforts to astonish his admirers, or to sustain his fame by novel efforts of genius, such as we have particularised as appearing before the commencement of the nineteenth century. Among the countless caricatures, good, bad, and indifferent, according to the circumstances of their publication, produced between 1809 and the close of the designer's career, nearly twenty years later, we cannot direct the reader's attention to many subjects above the generality of similar productions by Rowlandson's hand. It must be borne in mind that the artist's opportunities for graceful delineation had been considerably curtailed; the fair leaders of the old picturesque generation, whose effigies beam so charmingly on Reynolds's canvases, and the days of powder, flowing locks, silk coats, laces, lappels, and their accompaniments, had gradually disappeared, and left a prosier people, of sober exterior, in their stead. The difference between the exteriors of Rowlandson's lively personages, at the earlier part of the career, is so distinct from the outward appearance of his surroundings, and of the world which continued to exercise his pencil, at the close of his years, that it is extremely difficult, with the evidence before our eyes, to credit that such extreme changes could take place within the lifetime of one individual. The wanton cruelty of time in dealing thus harshly with the delicious models, which at one period seemed expressly constituted for the exercise of Rowlandson's pencil, may have discouraged the artist, and given him a distaste for exertions of ambition in which his heart had no part, while his fancy still hovered round his retrospects of the brilliant scenes, at home and abroad, that had met his sight in his gallant youth. [Illustration] A few of Rowlandson's plates in 1811 recall his best days, but we are not too confident that the originals veritably belong to the year which is engraved upon the plates; indeed, in two cases at least, _Exhibition Stare Case, Somerset House_, and _Royal Academy, Somerset House_, the caricatures are most probably reprints, with the dates altered. This practice, common enough in his day, is productive of no slight confusion; all Rowlandson's most popular conceptions, 'the palpable hits' which held their own in the public favour, and were eagerly secured, were republished from year to year, to meet the demand, and, in most cases, the plate was freshly dated, as if the print had only then appeared for the first time. This principle has complicated our task, as it is most difficult to secure even a solitary impression of the finer works, and but scant means exist of tracing them back to the actual date, in the absence of any considerable collections to which the student may apply for purposes of reference and comparison. If the reader will be at the pains to consult the 'Appendix,' containing the nearest approach to an arrangement of Rowlandson's works, under the years of publication, the writer could arrive at under existing circumstances, it will be seen that the same caricatures frequently reappear, with altered dates, for successive years. In the latter part of the artist's career, although he executed a great many works of interest in themselves, and his inexhaustible social satires are often meritorious, and always ingenious, his best talents were devoted to the production of original drawings for immediate sale. They were chiefly disposed of through the assistance of Rudolph Ackermann, 101 Strand; and S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. Both these steady patrons of the declining years of a genius, who must, in a sense, have found the close of his life exposed to somewhat chilling influences, are reported, on good authority, to have held hundreds of Rowlandson's original drawings, scrap-books, and portfolios, filled with his admirable sketches at the time of his death; but these collections have of course been since dispersed. [Illustration] In addition to the immense gathering of water-colour drawings left by Rowlandson, which had accumulated in the possession of those respected gentlemen with whom he held business relations, there were several fine collections, formed about the same period, to be found in the possession of his intimates. Mitchell the banker, his constant friend in town, with whom Rowlandson frequently travelled on the Continent, had secured the most remarkable gallery of the artist's diversified views abroad, and particularly his sketches of life and character in France and the Netherlands, the latter being the most remarkable for broad humour. Henry Angelo, the fencing-master, and Bannister, the comedian, ancient school-fellows of the caricaturist, and, as will be seen, faithful comrades through life, were also steady collectors of his picturesque eccentricities, and many noblemen, and celebrities of the day--among them is mentioned the name of the dashing, and somewhat irrepressible, Lord Barrymore--took a pride in filling their folios with his works, which, as we are told, they justly esteemed 'an inexhaustible fund of amusement.' A few later collections, with the names of the owners, and the titles of the leading subjects, are mentioned at the end of this volume, with a view to completing the interest of the subject, and affording a slight indication of the whereabouts of many of his productions. * * * * * It appears from the statements of Rudolph Ackermann, Rowlandson's industry was such that the considerate owner of the fashionable Repository--favourite lounge of the dilettanti as it was--at last found it difficult, as regards the selling department, to keep pace with his friend's creative abilities. In short, the artist produced drawings faster than the public, as it seems evident, felt inclined to purchase them for the time being, and it became a perplexing problem how to increase the demand proportionately to the supply; for the multiplication of the sketches for awhile--probably under the spur of some emergency, or the pressure of apprehensions for the future--became so overwhelming that the worthy publisher, in his relation as a practical man of business, fancied he foresaw the approaching depreciation of the value of Rowlandson's drawings making such strides, on the strength of an overstocked market, he was afraid, in the end, the artist's remuneration would be so seriously diminished, that it would not be worth his while to persevere, unless a new line could be successfully struck out. [Illustration] These anticipations were probably well founded, and we cannot but acknowledge that our artist had discarded prudence, and become thoroughly reckless--at least, as far as we can judge by appearances, for possibly he had more confidence in the ultimate request for his studies than was entertained by his friendly employers, and time has proved the soundness of his judgment. If the story we are told of his novel method of multiplying his drawings is serious, it will strike the reader that Mr. Ackermann had reason to feel anxious, on his _protégé's_ account. It is related that Rowlandson would saunter from his neighbouring lodgings in the Adelphi, round to the _Repository of Arts_, and, as the title of Mr. Ackermann's establishment was no misnomer, every possible appliance was therein found ready to hand. The artist would then order a saucer of vermillion, and another of Indian ink, ready ground, from the colourist's room, with reed pens, and several sheets of drawing-paper; he would then combine his inks in the proportions he thought proper, in the flesh lines vermillion predominated, in draperies Indian ink, shadows were a warm mixture of the two, and distant objects were faintly rendered in Indian ink alone. The outline was filled in on this principle, but, as the designer's own manual and dexterous rapidity had ceased to satisfy him, he had ingeniously discovered an expeditious method of multiplication sufficient for his purpose, without resorting to the sister art of engraving. The drawing was made on the principle essential in any engraving which has to give impressions, that is, the subject was reversed, right being changed to left--the only extra care required; the outline was somewhat stronger, and the reed-pen more fully charged than was the usual practice, and when the design was completed it formed the _matrix_ from which, before the ink became fixed, by means of a press, and paper damped to the proper consistency, it was easy to print off duplicates as long as the ink held out. We are rather inclined to speculate that, ingenious as the process seems, in description, it would by no means turn out a perennial flowing fountain, and two or three decent replicas would exhaust the original, however judiciously manipulated. The copies obtained by this manifold contrivance were corrected and strengthened, according to their requirements; the series of impressions were then shaded with Indian ink, so as to lend the figures contour and solidity, and express the lighter distance; and then came the final tinting, in delicate washes of colour, and the completed works were ready for introduction to the public. The writer does not believe that this _modus operandi_ was ever followed up systematically; that it has been resorted to on occasions, his own observations have demonstrated; and he confesses to a passing acquaintance with a collection of drawings by the artist (belonging to a gentleman of distinction, who is quite satisfied as to their merits), which are for the most part the results of this system, and he has more than once, in the course of his peregrinations, come across the _matrix_ design, very spread and mysterious as to outline, having been exhausted in the working, but shaded with spirit, coloured, and sent into the world, a shameless left-handed production, craftily smuggled into circulation to confuse collectors, and throw discredit on its dexter counterparts. This accounts for a certain proportion of the duplicates after Rowlandson, which are of frequent occurrence; and often have purchasers felt their self-esteem lowered, when another possessor of the same design in a firmer outline has assured them that they have been deceived into buying a mere copy, oblivious that the guilty pair are both due to the hand of the master, and that possibly other members of the same illicit family are lurking in the folios of rival amateurs. A grand central gathering of works by Rowlandson, presuming a person of sufficient enterprise could be found to prosecute the scheme of a comprehensive exhibition of the artist's works, would reveal some curiosities in the way of reproductive capability. [Illustration] [Illustration] For the credit of our artist, and the comfort of collectors, we can record our assurance that this crafty method was never persevered in, the replicas issued under this illegitimate contrivance are confined to a brief period, the temptation to flood the market was kept within restricted limits, and Mr. Ackermann's business aptitude quickly discovered a method of enhancing the caricaturist's reputation and augmenting his means, without the necessity of resorting to tricks of ill-advised ingenuity. The successful projection of a series of monthly publications allowed the indefatigable projector--who exercised a princely liberality in his dealings, as publishers go--to pay his friend, the artist, so handsomely, that he was relieved from the necessity of multiplying his sketches in any inordinate profusion, and enabled him to take more time and pains, both in seeking his subjects, and working them out at his ease. The results of this happy conception, _The Poetical Magazine_, the three _Tours of Doctor Syntax_, and _The Dance of Death_, enjoyed unqualified popularity. They were followed by other works of a corresponding description, which were also well received. The publisher had his reward; we have every reason to believe that Rowlandson enjoyed his fair share of these successful ventures; and continued to furnish book-illustrations, steadily following up the new branch he had discovered for the exercise of his abilities. Mr. Ackermann's enterprise provided him ample occupation. These octavo prints were produced on the same principle as the superior plates after his _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of the Academy period: a neat and carefully finished drawing of the original design was first prepared (these studies were afterwards purchased by Mr. Ackermann), and Rowlandson etched the outline sharply and clearly on the copper plate, an impression from the 'bitten-in' outline was printed on drawing-paper, and the artist put in his shadows, modelling of forms and sketchy distance, with Indian ink, in the most delicate handling possible; the shadows were then copied in aquatint on the outlined plate, sometimes by the designer, but in most cases by an engraver who practised this particular branch, which a few experts were able to manipulate with considerable dexterity and nicety. Rowlandson next completed the colouring of his own Indian ink shaded impression in delicate tints, harmoniously selected; his sense of colour being of a refined order as regarded the disposal of tender shades agreeable to the eye. His aptitude in this respect is quite as remarkable as his ease of delineation; and, if his outlines can be copied with any approach to deceiving the eye of a connoisseur, an attempt to imitate his colouring, simple as it remained in its characteristics, is tolerably certain to betray the fraud. The tinted impression, which was intentionally finished with greater delicacy and elaboration than the artist generally displayed, served as a copy for imitation, which was handed to Mr. Ackermann's trained staff of colourists, the publisher finding constant employment for a number of clever persons whom he had educated expressly for this skilled employment. These artists had worked under his auspices and personal supervision for years, until, by constant practice, and the pains which were taken by the publisher to improve their abilities, they attained a degree of perfection and neatness never arrived at before, and almost beyond belief in the present day, when the system has fallen into comparative disuse. The assistants did their best to reproduce the effect of the original drawings, and the number of impressions required to satisfy the public must have kept them constantly at work, and occasionally jeopardised their high finish. [Illustration] There is an amazing contrast between the plates issued from the Repository, worked out like elaborate water-colour drawings, in subdued, well-balanced tints, with the utmost lightness and skill of touch, and the lurid chromatic daubs which pass current to the present day, as Rowlandson's caricatures were issued from Cheapside '_price one shilling coloured_,' after a school of vulgarity to which the panorama of the Lord Mayor's Show _at one penny_, with its four yards of florid tenuity, is quite a refined work of art. We are not inclined to offer uncharitable reflections on Rowlandson's City publisher; the caricatures--excepting always certain rougher specimens, loosely executed enormities after designs by some of the amateurs of the period, which indubitably belong to the slip-shod order--are fair enough in their way, when one is lucky enough to meet with uncoloured copies; it is the bad taste of his customers, the respectable dealer evidently stooped to flatter, with which we are inclined to disagree, and we think justifiably; for although it was very good of the gentleman in question to issue so many copies of his plates, with a providential eye to the future, that impressions are sufficiently numerous to this day, all print-buyers must deplore the waste of staring colour expended in making his publications abominable to the sight of modern purchasers, and ruinous to the fair fame of the designer, by the uncompromising use of three positive pigments, red, blue, and yellow, to which, with an occasional brown, the colour-box seemed restricted, in most cases liberally plastered over the etchings-figures, sky, buildings and background being treated to the same smart hues in undiluted garishness, which utterly confuses the mind as to the meritorious qualities of the subjects so bespattered, and has the sinister effect, deplorable in itself, of compelling persons of chaste dispositions to dread caricatures as being on the surface something worse than scarlet abominations, fiendishly aggravated with additional lurid iniquities of a depraving tendency. We have introduced Rowlandson in his later relation to the arts, as a skilful and popular contributor of book illustrations; we cannot leave this portion of our subject without offering a cursory review of his various labours in this capacity, since the wider circulation of printed publications has made his name more familiar to the great world than the finest masterpieces already alluded to, which seem doomed to remain unknown and inaccessible to the bulk of the public. [Illustration] The first independent publication we have to notice was simply a gathering of subjects, extending over three or four years, collected in 1788, and issued as _Rowlandson's Imitations of Modern Drawings_, folio; including imitations of the styles of Gainsborough, Wheatley, Mortimer, Barrett, Gilpin, Bartolozzi, Zucchi, Cipriani, &c. In 1786, Rowlandson supplied G. Kearsley, the publisher of those well-known satirical effusions of Dr. Wolcot, _The Poems of Peter Pindar_, with illustrations to the first volume of the quarto edition of these familiar works. This publication was continued the next year. In a burlesque strain, Rowlandson also came out with twenty illustrations, the drawings suggested by Collings,[6] caricaturing passages in Boswell's _Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides_, published by E. Jackson, small folio (1786). Our artist further supplied certain plates in parody of incidents in the _Sorrows of Werther_, also from suggestions by Collings, who designed a capital series of drolleries in travesty of passages literally extracted from Lord Chesterfield's _Polite Letters_. G. and J. Robinson, in 1790, published the results of a trip to Brighton, which the artist had enjoyed in company with his friend, the frequent companion of his wanderings and frolics, Henry Wigstead, Esq., the sitting magistrate at Bow Street--_An Excursion to Brighthelmstone made in the year 1782_, by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson, with eight engravings by Thomas Rowlandson, oblong folio. There also appeared, in this and the following years, a series of _Miniature Groups and Scenes_, published by M. L., Brighthelmstone, and H. Brookes, Coventry Street, London; and a series of _Sheets of Picturesque Etchings_, published by S. W. Fores. Rowlandson also furnished numerous book-plates, octavo, to the series of novels published by I. Siebbald, Edinburgh; among the works thus illustrated we must particularise the novels of Fielding and Smollett. The succeeding year (1792) our artist also contributed illustrations, in large size folding plates, designed after suggestions by Henry Woodward, to a quarto edition of Smollett's Novels. _Cupid's Magic Lantern_, with illustrations, etched by Rowlandson, also after designs by Henry Woodward, was published in 1797. _The Comforts of Bath_, and the folio _Views of London_, belong to 1798. The same year the name of W. Wigstead, Charing Cross, appears as the publisher of the following works:-- _Annals of Horsemanship_, with seventeen copperplates by Henry Bunbury, Esq. Engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. _The Academy for Grown Horsemen_, with twelve copperplates, by Henry Bunbury, Esq. Engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. _Love in Caricature_, with eleven plates by Thomas Rowlandson. [Illustration] The handsome and expensively got-up publications inaugurated by Mr. Ackermann, began to occupy our artist in 1799. The first of this well-executed series, with which Rowlandson was connected, was a set of plates, accurately coloured in _fac-simile_ of the original drawings, in square folio, described as, _The Loyal Volunteers of London and Environs_, with eighty-seven plates, designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson. Martial ardour being the key-note this year, when foreign invasion menaced our shores, Henry Angelo and Son, who were appointed fencing-masters to the Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster, collected a series of subjects which the artist had prepared under their direction, and issued the results of their joint ingenuity as a supplement to the elder Angelo's _Treatise on Fencing_, under the title of, _Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise_, with twenty-four plates designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson, oblong folio. Another publication, issued by Ackermann in 1799, appeared as _Delineations of Nautical Characters_, in ten plates by Thomas Rowlandson. In 1800, the results of an excursion to North and South Wales, undertaken in concert by the author and artist, were given to the public under the following description: _Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797_, by Henry Wigstead, with plates by Thomas Rowlandson, Pugh, Howitt, &c. Published by W. Wigstead, Charing Cross. Rowlandson also supplied some illustrations to _The Beauties of Sterne_, a selection of choice passages from the works of that author. A series of _Views in Cornwall, Dorset, &c._, appeared as a separate publication in 1805. The artist contributed serious book-plates to an edition of the _Sorrows of Werther_, in 1806. A smaller edition of the witty _Annals of Horsemanship_ and _Academy for Grown Horsemen_ (portions of which are attributed to the pen of the convivial Captain Grose, the well-known antiquary, author of _The Military Antiquities_, etc.--the original design of the work with the illustrations belonged to Henry Bunbury) was issued in a cheap form by Thomas Tegg in 1800, the etchings being executed in a reduced form by Thomas Rowlandson, and published under the title of _An Academy for Grown Horsemen and Annals of Horsemanship, by Geoffry Gambado_, octavo. A collection of plates portraying _The Miseries of Human Life_, consisting of fifty etchings by Thomas Rowlandson, small folio, was published in a reduced form the same year. [Illustration] The principal work, however, which appeared in 1808, was, and must remain, a fitting instance of the enterprise and good taste of Rudolph Ackermann, his liberal employment of artists whose abilities were of the first order; while demonstrating the popularity of his publications, which could guarantee the most considerable outlays, with a successful return of the capital invested. We refer to the splendid _Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature_, with 105 illustrations by Pugin and Rowlandson, in three volumes, quarto. A more extended notice of this valuable series is given in its proper place in this volume, under the description of works for 1808; although we believe the actual preparation of the plates extended over some years. We have also to notice:-- _The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror_, published by Thomas Tegg, and continued to 1810, 386 plates, in five volumes, oblong folio. _The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting_, with illustrations by Rowlandson and Woodward, octavo; published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside, 1808. _A Lecture on Heads_, by George Alexander Stevens, with twenty-five illustrations by Rowlandson and Woodward, octavo, published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside, 1808. _Chesterfield Travestie; or School for Modern Manners_, with ten caricatures engraved by Rowlandson from drawings by H. Woodward (who supplied the letterpress), duodecimo, was also published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside. 1808. [Illustration] In 1809, appeared numerous book-plates supplied by the artist to publishers. Thomas Tegg issued an edition of _Sterne's Sentimental Journey_, and _The Beauties of Sterne_, in a separate volume; both _embellished with caricatures by T. Rowlandson_. This gentleman also published an edition of _The Surprising Adventures of the renowned Baron Munchausen_, with numerous original engravings by Thomas Rowlandson; _The Annals of Sporting by Caleb Quizem_, with illustrations by Rowlandson and Woodward; _Advice to Sportsmen, selected from the Notes of Marmaduke Markwell_; with sixteen illustrations by Rowlandson; _The Trial of the Duke of York_, with Rowlandson's collected caricatures on the subject, in two volumes; _Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, &c._, with fourteen portraits by Rowlandson, two volumes; and Butler's _Hudibras_, with five illustrations by William Hogarth, engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. Beresford's _Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life_, octavo, is also advertised in 1809. _The Pleasures of Human Life_, by Hilari Benevolus & Co., with five plates by Thomas Rowlandson, &c., was published by Longmans, 1809. It was in 1809 that Ackermann projected his _Poetical Magazine_, royal octavo, which, it was arranged, should appear in consecutive monthly parts, as a means of affording his friend, the artist, substantial and progressive employment. The generous thought which prompted this enterprise was fittingly rewarded by the successful reception this venture secured at the hands of the public, and the patrons of Ackermann's 'Repository of Arts.' _The Poetical Magazine_ was quite a feature amongst novel publications; the famous plates supplied by Rowlandson (two monthly), and the verses felicitously written up to the caricaturist's designs by William Coombe, under the title of _The Schoolmasters' Tour_, and introducing the highly popular _Doctor Syntax_, formed the only important contributions to the Magazine, which came to a conclusion (at the fourth volume), with the end of the first _Picturesque Tour_. The success which attended the appearance of the familiar _Tour_ was altogether beyond the expectations of either publisher, artist, or author. The etchings on the plates to _The Poetical Magazine_ were worked fairly away and renewed. In 1812, _The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque_, with thirty-one illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, was published in a separate form in royal octavo, a fresh set of the much-admired plates, with but the slightest variations, being prepared expressly, and these in turn proved insufficient to supply the number of copies demanded by the delighted public. The _Tour_ had a still larger success in its independent form, and several editions appeared in one season; the request continued for years, and was sufficiently encouraging to induce the projectors to follow it up with a new series, _The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation_, with twenty-four illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, which also appeared in monthly parts, and was issued in a collected form in one volume, royal octavo, in 1820. A third tour, in _Search of a Wife_, was ventured in 1822, but this was evidently intended to be the final sequel, as the hero, 'Doctor Syntax,' is removed from life's scene at the close. Returning to Rowlandson's successive contributions of book-illustrations, we find a satirical work, _Munchausen at Walcheren_ issued in 1811; and a _Tale of the Castle_ (Dublin), published by Stockdale in 1812, as _Petticoat Loose, a Fragmentary Poem_, illustrated with four plates by Thomas Rowlandson, quarto. The artist also issued a series of _Views of Cornwall_ in the form of an independent volume the same year. Mr. Ackermann had introduced, some years before, an illustrated Miscellany to his subscribers, which ran a long and highly successful career, under the title, borrowed from the circumstances of its publication, of _Ackermann's Repository of Arts, Literature, Fashion, and Manufactures_. [Illustration] In the pages of this admirable magazine were given many continuous contributions of a valuable and interesting character, the contents being as diversified as the description of the undertaking. Among the serials were numerous essays of merit, which, in the projector's opinion, were entitled to the distinction of separate publication, and, at intervals, the discriminating proprietor of the _Repository_ selected various series of articles by his best qualified and most respected colleagues in the work, and re-issued their contributions, with the enhanced attraction of fresh pictorial embellishments, as separate publications. In this manner a succession of _Letters from Italy_, which had appeared in the _Repository_, between 1809 and 1813, furnished by Lewis Engelbach (who supplied reviews of music; it has been said his criticisms may be usefully studied by the most successful living contributors to the press), were republished in 1815 in one volume, royal octavo, as _Letters from Naples and the Campana Felice_, with seventeen illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson. Another deserving work, published by R. Ackermann, in the same finished style, with coloured engravings in aquatint, delicately completed by hand to resemble water-colour drawings, as were the major part of the illustrations to this series, appeared under the title of _Poetical Sketches of Scarborough_, with twenty-one illustrations by J. Green; etched by Thomas Rowlandson, 1813. In 1815 was published The _Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome_, with fifteen illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, royal octavo, printed for Patrick Martin, 198 Oxford Street. This work is written in Hudibrastic metre, by 'An Officer' in imitation of the flowing lines supplied by Coombe to the _Tours of Doctor Syntax_. Another volume (1815 and 1816) was published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside, also composed after the model of the same easy versification, under the description of _The Grand Master, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan, a Hudibrastic poem in eight cantos, by Quiz_, illustrated with twenty-eight engravings by Thomas Rowlandson. [Illustration] The principal triumph of our artist's later years appeared in 1815 and 1816, Rowlandson inventing the subjects, and Coombe supplying the descriptive versification, as was their usual method of proceeding in the entire succession of publications, undertaken under this artistic and literary co-partnership, and issued by R. Ackermann. We refer to the _Dance of Death_, which had first been offered the public in monthly parts under the old and highly successful system, between 1814 and 1816. This production, which repays the most careful consideration, received a flattering reception, and, in spite of the grim nature of the subject, enjoyed surprising popularity, and added considerably to the reputation of those concerned in its appearance. We have no hesitation in recording our impression that the ingenuity and invention displayed in the seventy-two plates illustrative of the _Dance of Death_ are considerably in advance, in point of invention, of the pictures supplied to its more genial and popular rival _Doctor Syntax_. Both artist and author had arrived at a period of mature experience, which qualified and disposed them to bring their finest faculties to the treatment of this melodramatic theme, in which they must have discovered morbid fascinations; since it has enabled them to rise above their average efforts. As we have noticed, although the conception is monumental, not to say sepulchral, in its characteristics, and on occasions, ghastly in its humour, the result is a masterpiece to the memories of Rowlandson and Coombe; the fires of their early inspirations were rekindled from their decline; and the _Dance of Death_ has always impressed us as the last flicker of expiring genius; a fitting memorial of the vast and almost forgotten faculties of the projectors. A fuller account of this impressive and truly remarkable work, will be found under the year 1810, where we have endeavoured to do justice to the exceptional qualities of a performance which, in our modest conviction, surpasses any previous treatment of the same subject. In 1816 Rowlandson commenced a series of charming little pictures designed in outline, avowedly intended as an assistance to landscape-artists in the direction of suggesting, and supplying animated groups of figures, suitable for introduction into drawings. The etchings were executed with exceptional neatness, ease, and spirit, and the entire collection is highly interesting; it appeared under the title of _The World in Miniature, figure subjects for Landscapes, Groups, and Views_, and was published by Mr. Ackermann at 'The Repository.' A series of a similar description was commenced under the same designation by Rowlandson in 1821, and finished by W. H. Pyne in 1826; the set was somewhat diffusive, if it extended to 637 parts, as we are told. Our artist's illustrations to the _Beauties of Tom Brown_ belong to 1809. Rowlandson also contributed a frontispiece to another of Tegg's publications in 1816, _The Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand Farquhar_. [Illustration] Rowlandson found a congenial exercise for his skill, taste, and mirth-imparting qualities in the illustration of Oliver Goldsmith's _Vicar of Wakefield_, in 1817, when the famous tale re-appeared, embellished with twenty-four designs by the artist. Mr. Ackermann was induced to republish this delightful story as a vehicle for the display of the delicate humoristic, and more refined qualifications of the caricaturist (who, by the way, had almost ceased to deserve this epithet). Nothing could be more artless than the pathos of this fiction, its simple humour is ever fresh, and Rowlandson has executed his portion of the undertaking in a congenial spirit, indeed the happy impulses of the author seem spontaneously embodied in the picturesque designs. The success of the _Dance of Death_ was so considerable that the publisher endeavoured to share its popularity with a successor. The two volumes constituting the first work were, however, executed in a superior manner; and more pains were taken to bring the plates to the utmost perfection, as reproductions of the original drawings, than was the case with later publications. _The Dance of Life_, illustrated with twenty-eight coloured engravings by Thomas Rowlandson, published by R. Ackermann, royal octavo, appeared in 1817, and although fairly executed, neither the conceptions of Rowlandson, nor the verses of Coombe, rose above the commonplace; it is evident that the sentiment which had inspired their gifted faculties in the former subject found no revival in the present volume, which is somewhat disappointing after the talent which is manifested in its predecessor. A pendant to the _Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome_ was issued in 1818 as _The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy_, a poem in four cantos, with sixteen plates by Rowlandson from the author's designs, by Alfred Burton, published by Simpkin and Marshall, Stationers' Hall Court, Ludgate Hill. More attention was paid to the artistic preparation of the succeeding portion of _The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of Consolation_, with twenty-four illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, royal octavo, which Mr. Ackermann introduced to the public in a collected form as the companion to the popular first volume in 1820. Rowlandson also furnished illustrations to certain pamphlets or chapbooks in 1819; we may particularise one under the title of _Who killed Cock Robin?_--a tract on the Manchester Massacre, published by John Cahnac. We have also to notice his contribution to a chapbook which appeared the same year, as, _Female Intrepidity, or the Heroic Maiden_. The same year appeared _Rowlandson's Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders; intended as a Companion to the New Picture of London_ containing fifty-four coloured plates, printed by S. Leigh, 18 Strand, 1820. [Illustration] Another contribution, _A Tour in the South of France_, drawn from the excellent serial publication, 'Ackermann's Repository of Arts, Literature, Fashion, and Manufactures,' originally supplied to its pages in instalments between the years 1817 and 1820, was republished in a completed form in 1821, with additional attractions, in the way of fresh embellishments, by the unflagging hand of our artist, under the title of _A Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France_, illustrated with eighteen coloured engravings from designs by Thomas Rowlandson, royal octavo, published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. A French version of 'Doctor Syntax's Tour in Search of the Picturesque,' _Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la Recherche du Pittoresque et du Romantique_, also appeared in Paris this year, with twenty-eight illustrations, drawn on stone, after the original designs of Rowlandson, by Malapeau, lithographed by G. Engelmann. The final complement of 'The Tours,' prepared under the same auspices as the earlier peregrinations, reached completion as an additional volume in 1822, and the monthly instalments were then reissued in a collected form to join the two predecessors as _The Third Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of a Wife_, with twenty-five illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, royal octavo, published by R. Ackermann. A further instance of the universal popularity enjoyed by _The First Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque_ was afforded, in 1822, by the appearance of an edition translated into German and freely adapted as _Die Reise des Doktor Syntax um das Malerische au Frusuchen_ with Rowlandson's famous illustrations imitated on stone and lithographed by F. E. Rademacher, Berlin. The interest which it was found, on experience, still surrounded the grotesque prototype _Dr. Syntax_, induced the energetic projectors--publisher, artist, and author--under their old, well-defined relations, to venture on a farther extension of the familiar framework, and a fresh volume, which had, like the preceding publications, found its way to the public in monthly instalments, was inaugurated in 1822 under the description of _The History of Johnny Quæ Genus: The Little Foundling of the late Doctor Syntax--a poem by the author of The Three Tours_ (William Coombe)--embellished with twenty-four coloured engravings by Thomas Rowlandson. [Illustration] The same year our artist issued another distinct volume of landscape subjects of his execution under the title of _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature_; a collection of seventeen plates, drawn and etched by the artist and aquatinted by Stradler. _Crimes of the Clergy_, an octavo volume, with two plates by our artist, also appeared in 1822. As a further proof that the numerous editions in royal octavo of the illustrious schoolmaster's wanderings were insufficient to satisfy the requirements of his patrons, Mr. Ackermann offered the public a fresh copy, in three volumes 16mo. of _The Three Tours of Dr. Syntax, Pocket Edition_, with all Rowlandson's plates, executed on a smaller scale to suit the convenience of enthusiasts, who might require to carry the volumes about with them ready for immediate reference, or for perusal on their travels and at odd moments, if such an opportunity should be in request. In 1825 Charles Molloy Westmacott, an intimate friend of the caricaturist, in whose company we learn he visited Paris, thought proper to edit a publication under his pseudonym of 'Bernard Blackmantle,' a collection of whimsical extracts from the press, which had appeared in print in the previous season. The description of his production is as follows: _The Spirit of the Public Journals for the year 1824, with Explanatory Notes_. Illustrations on wood by T. Rowlandson, R. and G. Cruikshank, Lane, and Findlay. London; published by Sherwood, Jones, and Co., Paternoster Row, 1825. Our artist contributed eleven highly humorous cuts to this publication, his drawings being engraved on wood--a novel process as far as the designs usually supplied by Rowlandson are concerned. A notable plate was furnished by the caricaturist in 1825 to _The English Spy_, a work also produced under the auspices of 'Bernard Blackmantle,' after the description of the better-known _Life in London_. The major part of the plates are due to the hand of Robert Cruikshank. Rowlandson's name is given on the title-page as having contributed a portion of the illustrations on wood, but the only example of his skill we have been able to identify is an adaptation of his drawing (now the property of Mr. Capron), _The Life School at the Royal Academy_, which he originally presented to his old friend John Thomas Smith, of the British Museum. Plate 32.--_R. A--ys of Genius Reflecting on the True Line of Beauty at the Life Academy, Somerset House_, by Thomas Rowlandson; and this illustration is undeniably the most interesting to be found in the entire contents of the two octavo volumes of which Mr. Westmacott's _English Spy_ is composed; further particulars of this subject are given under the year 1825. [Illustration] After the caricaturist's death in 1827 the admirable publications, of which his coloured plates formed the principal attractions, were discontinued; the taste of the public had changed. Wood blocks and steel plates came into fashion. Cheap annuals illustrated with woodcuts came into favour for a season, until the appearance of the more elaborately prepared 'Gift Books,' with fine steel engravings, 'Keepsakes,' 'Gems,' &c., subsequently took their place. The folios of Mr. Ackermann were still sufficiently rich in studies by Rowlandson to furnish the framework for a fresh publication. A choice was made from the large collection of original drawings, published and unpublished, which still remained, after the artist's decease, in the possession of the indefatigable proprietor of the 'Repository'; and these sketches, which of necessity, for the most part, are assignable to Rowlandson's declining period, when his drawings became looser in execution and less picturesque in point of subject, were selected as the materials for a new venture, with a departure from the old popular style of reproduction in facsimile of the artist's pictures coloured by hand. The subjects culled from Mr. Ackermann's portfolios were redrawn on a reduced scale, either as a whole, or striking portions of caricatures, and prominent figures or groups were adapted, transferred to wood-blocks, and put into the hands of an engraver. In cutting the designs a considerable amount of the original spirit, with the individuality of execution peculiar to the master, have unfortunately been sacrificed; the engravings are heavy and poor; however, they offer a rough idea of the nature of the studies which happened to remain in the hands of the publisher, and some interest attaches to this circumstance, as the major part of these designs have never been issued on copper. Mr. W. H. Harrison was engaged to write up to the pictorial sketches, and he has constructed various small fictions founded on the suggestions offered by the engravings; but the entire work is somewhat clumsy in contrivance, both as respects the illustrations and the literary setting intended to assist their interest in the eyes of the public; the editor's inventions are neither original nor brilliant. The title of the annual produced on this compound principle was _The Humourist, a Companion for the Christmas Fireside, embellished with fifty engravings, exclusive of numerous vignettes after designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson_: published by R. Ackermann, 96 Strand, and sold by R. Ackermann, junior, 191 Regent Street, 1831. _The Humourist_ contained sixty-seven illustrations in all; the titles of these, and a brief description of the various subjects, will be found at the close of the present volume, under the year 1831. * * * * * Although Rowlandson was so well known as an artist, no fitting memorials of his career are extant; and while, as we have related, the task of discovering a collection of works by the artist, worthy of illustrating his exceptional abilities, is surrounded by unforeseen difficulties, the operation of culling personal traits, or records of the life and adventures of the caricaturist, demands even greater extensions of patience. Nothing short of sincere appreciation for the vast talents of the man, and of a lasting conviction of the original qualities of his works, could have encouraged the writer to prolong his researches, the chances in this case of alighting on any discoveries of note being so problematical. The person of Rowlandson was familiarly recognised amongst his contemporaries from his youth, when he was first admitted as a student at the schools of the Royal Academy (about 1770), through his diversified fortunes, till his death, which occurred on April 22, 1827. His figure, we learn, was large, well set-up, muscular, and above the average height--in fact, his person was a noticeable one; his features were regular and defined, his eye remarkably full and fearless, his glance being described as penetrating, and suggestive of command; his mouth and chin expressed firmness and resolution; the general impression conveyed to a stranger by his countenance, which was undeniably fine and striking in its characteristics, was that of the inflexibility of the owner. [Illustration: SMITHFIELD SHARPERS; OR THE COUNTRYMAN DEFRAUDED. Old Trusty, with his Town-made Friends, To gentle sleep himself commends, With Tray upon his knees; Whilst Tom, his son, all eager, gaping, Expects each moment he'll be scraping The treasure up he sees. Meanwhile the Harpy Tribe are plotting, By forcing liquor, winking, nodding, To cheat the youth unlearn'd; Who, to his cost, will quickly find Nor watch, nor money, left behind, And Friends to Sharpers turn'd.] Two or three portraits of the caricaturist are traceable, besides numerous burlesque transfers of his own effigy to his imaginary personages. In common with Cruikshank, Thackeray, and many other humorists of the brush and etching-needle, he was prone to introduce the presentment of his own lineaments in whimsical juxtapositions. The most generally recognised likeness, from which a separate plate has been published by Mr. Parker, occurs in a clever eccentric drawing, exhibited by the artist at the Royal Academy Exhibition in 1787, under the title of _Countrymen and Sharpers_ (No. 555). This subject was subsequently engraved by J. K. Sherwin, whose portrait also figures therein, in the person of the pigeon, while Rowlandson has chosen to represent himself as the leading sharper, he who, with blustering front, is fleecing the simple youth at cards, in defiance of his well-accepted reputation for rigid integrity; for although the gaming table long held the caricaturist an enslaved votary, ready to make the most reckless sacrifices to tempt the fickle favours of the gambler's fortune, it is recorded by those of his acquaintances who have mentioned this disastrous failing (which by the way he shared with all the wealthy, distinguished, and witty celebrities of his day), and deplored the havoc it made with his means, and professional pursuits, that his sense of honour was ever of the keenest, his word was always regarded as sufficient security, and he possessed a delicacy of feeling, and a sense of independence, which would not allow him to remain under a debt or an obligation. At the time Rowlandson sent his drawing of _Countrymen and Sharpers_[7] for exhibition, he was 31 years of age, and according to the portrait, looks manhood personified, with a fine comely figure, and a face that imprints itself on the recollection, his hair in a profusion of wavy tresses, worn long, and 'clubbed' as was the fashion of the period. His bold and piercing eyes set under massive and somewhat prominent brows. The next attributed portrait belongs to 1799, when Rowlandson was 43 years of age. In the design, _An Artist travelling in Wales_, the result of a journey he made with his friend, the convivial Henry Wigstead, he has represented himself, with a due allowance for burlesque, looking older than his years; the long hair is still there, but its curls are thinned, time and a struggle with seasons less rosy than his youth of many fortunes, are telling on the outward man, but the brows, eyes, mouth and chin have diminished nothing of their resolute characteristics--indeed, they are more marked--and the strong nervous figure is beginning to look gaunt. _The Chamber of Genius_ appeared in 1812 with the appropriate quotation:-- Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool; And genius in rags is turned to ridicule.--Juv. _Sat._ The head of the caricaturist is strongly defined on the shoulders of the gifted occupant of a garret, and the likeness is just what might be supposed from the countenance, as given in 1787, viewed through the intervening quarter of a century of struggles, and disenchantments, when cares of the hour, and incidental anxieties, touching provision for the future, had commenced to take the place of the artist's original careless hardihood. The last portrait to which we shall at present refer is by another hand; and was sketched when the health of the caricaturist was a grave source of apprehension, since we learn that during the last two years of his life he was a severe sufferer. It represents the figure of a large and powerful-looking old gentleman, of impressive presence; the main characteristics, and the marked profile have gathered force with increasing years, the brows are even firmer, and the features more defined; this _croquis_ of the veteran was drawn by his old friend, and erst fellow-pupil, John Thomas Smith, the keeper of the drawings and prints in the British Museum, and the study was taken while the caricaturist was looking over some prints, on one of his visits to the treasures in his friend's department. The sketcher, who has written the circumstances under which it was taken, below the portrait, has given Rowlandson's age at seventy,--within a year, in fact, of his death. The caricaturist's flowing locks are considerably shorn by the hand of the inevitable mower, and his penetrating eyes do not disdain the assistance afforded by a pair of huge tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, in which they are framed; but as far as the visible flight of time goes, regarding the outward man, he might be assumed to possess powers of vitality sufficient to carry him over another score years. If our memory does not deceive us, a sketch of the caricaturist's figure, from the life, and drawn in chalks, was exhibited some time ago at Bethnal Green, in the Loan Collection, formed under the auspices of the Science and Art Department. * * * * * We learn that our artist, who is perhaps the most popularly recognised practitioner of the caricature branch, was born in the Old Jewry, in July 1756, that is to say, just a year before his remarkable compeer James Gillray. The members of the Rowlandson family, according to the little we can trace of their personal history, seem to have been highly respectable people of the middle class in life. The name is not of common occurrence. There is a tract relating certain misfortunes which attended two bearers of this cognomen; a pious and worthy couple who in the seventeenth century went evangelising to New England, where they suffered incredible persecutions, and escaped all sorts of dismal tortures amongst the aboriginal Indians, in whose hands they had the mischance to fall; the succession of hardships which they encountered, and their final miraculous deliverance, are duly recorded for the encouragement of the faithful. The narrative, which is simple and circumstantial, forms an item of 'improving reading' not without its interest in the present age. There is nothing to prove the relationship of this faithful and much-enduring pair to our caricaturist, beyond the circumstance of the similarity of name. Rowlandson the elder was assuredly at one time a man of fair substance, as we are informed--'some say a city merchant,' but his disposition, like that of his son, seems to have been tinctured with recklessness. Mention is made of an uncle Thomas Rowlandson, who was godfather to the subject of our notice; also, as far as we can discover, connected with mercantile pursuits. This relationship was destined to serve the caricaturist in good stead, if he had only exercised the commonest prudence in husbanding the resources which he derived from this connection. We discover that, before Rowlandson had arrived at man's estate, his chances of inheriting a provision to help him on his way, together with the prospect of any future support, so far as the paternal resources were concerned, had melted away; the elder Rowlandson's 'speculative turn' had taken a sinister bent, considerable sums had been sunk, and still more portentous liabilities had been incurred, 'by experimenting on various branches of manufacture,' which were attempted on too extensive a scale for the means at his command; and, his resources becoming exhausted, before the fruition of his schemes, pecuniary embarrassments involved his career, and he failed to realise the considerable fortune which his sanguine temperament had anticipated. The natural talents of the son, and the professional training which had cultivated his gifts, were the only contributions he received, on attaining manhood, towards his future maintenance, as far as the help he could derive from his father was concerned. Other adventitious aids came to the artist's assistance, indeed, in spite of the untoward direction which the previous prosperity of the elder had taken, Rowlandson was to a large degree the spoiled child of fortune throughout his early career. [Illustration: HOW TO TREAT A REFRACTORY MEMBER.] We are not informed whether the paternal estate was restored to solvency. Among the various 'valuable legacies' which, it is related, fell to the caricaturist's share (only to be scattered broadcast), it is very possible that, in some sort, an inheritance from his father formed part of these unexpected 'good gifts.' It seems, although we have no direct records of the remaining relatives, that Rowlandson had a sister, since we learn that his brother-in-law was Howitt, famous as an artist for his delineation of animals, for his spirited hunting subjects, being eminent as a sportsman, rider, and angler; and, like the caricaturist, somewhat of a spoiled child--a wayward genius--of a congenial soul, and vivacious impulses, a trifle too given to yield to careless convivial company, or the allurements which the hour might hold forth, oblivious of sober consequences to follow. Thomas Rowlandson, the uncle, had married a certain Mademoiselle Chattelier, who was, it is evident, a lady with some command of wealth; and from the partiality and indulgence of this aunt, our artist, we are told, 'derived that assistance which his father's reverse of fortune had withheld.' Another reference to the family name further occurs amongst the announcements of marriages for September 1800 (_Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. 70, p. 898), where we find that Thomas Rowlandson, Esq., of Watling Street, espoused Miss Stuart, daughter of George Stuart, Esq., of the Grove, Camberwell, Surrey. It is obvious that Rowlandson senior intended to give his son a sound training. As a school-boy, the future celebrity wandered into the precincts of that Soho district to which he afterwards clung in his varying fortunes with the persistence developed by habit. [Illustration] The caricaturist began to draw his first instalments from the fount of knowledge at the scholastic symposium of Doctor Barvis in Soho Square, 'at that time, and subsequently, an academy of some celebrity.' We are told this establishment was kept by Doctor Barrow when young Rowlandson was pursuing his studies. The respectability of the school, and its soundness as an educational institution, is satisfactorily demonstrated to our mind from the circumstance that the great Edmund Burke had elected to confide his beloved son, with whose training, it is well known, the philosopher took especial pains, to the charge of Doctor Barrow; and Richard Burke, the gentle gifted youth whose untimely death hastened the decease of his patriotic father, was a school-fellow of our artist. J. G. Holman, who was destined to acquire reputation as a dramatic writer and performer, was another school-fellow. It appears that, within the walls of this academy, Rowlandson made the acquaintance of John Bannister, whose inimitable talents were afterwards to delight the town, and whose name is a lasting ornament to the histrionic profession; it was, further, in Soho Square that young Rowlandson and young Angelo, the son of the well-known Henry Angelo (one of the best recognised and most respected foreigners domiciled in London of his day), fencing-master to the Royal Family, became fast and firm friends. The intimacy existing between this worthy trio, dating from these early days, continued steadfastly through life. All these lads were, in different degrees, enthusiasts of the graphic art; Angelo and Bannister had strong predilections for the arts, and both drew as amateurs in their subsequent careers, although, with Rowlandson, they originally meditated following up the artist's profession seriously. As to our friend Rolley, like all beginners gifted with the pictorial vein, he could make sketches intuitively before he had learnt to do anything else, as seems the rule with youths who possess the artistic faculty and an imaginative temperament; his powers of fancy directed his hand at a precociously juvenile age to the practice of exercising his abilities with pencil and pen. 'From the early period of his childhood,' it is recorded, 'Rowlandson gave presage of his future talent;' he could make sketches before he learned to write, and, according to the usual course, 'he drew humorous characters of his master and many of his scholars, before he was ten years old. The margins of his school-books were covered with these his handiworks.' Rowlandson's genius was of the rapid order, his powers were matured before the average of students have sounded the direction of their inclinations. Young Henry Angelo left Doctor Barrow's and Soho Square, for Eton, while Bannister and Rowlandson quitted the seminary of polite learning to follow the arts at the Schools of the Royal Academy; here our artist made rapid strides, and gave convincing proofs of his ability, dexterity, and quickness of parts, during the short interval his name was entered as a probationer. [Illustration] In his sixteenth year, somewhere about 1771, Rowlandson had the advantage of being sent to Paris to continue his education; we learn that he 'spoke French like a native.' It was his aunt, _née_ Mademoiselle Chattelier, residing in the French metropolis, a widow with what would have then been considered, in that capital, a handsome fortune, who invited her hopeful nephew over to the very centre of gaiety, dissipation, and luxurious refinement--Paris in the latter days of Louis the Fifteenth's reign being a very Capua for a youth of light and picturesque disposition such as our artist possessed. The impulse for purposeless frivolities, so deleteriously nourished amidst the gaieties of Parisian life, seems to have been kept in tolerable subjection by his earnest intentions to work hard at his adopted profession, which certainly must have sustained Master Rolley during his earlier residence on the Continent, until the cup of pleasure was raised to his lips by an unexpected accession of means. The student did a wonderful deal of real solid work and thoroughly steadfast application, before, like Moreland, he allowed himself to be whirled into the eddy of fashionable distractions; in Paris he was inscribed as a student in one of the drawing-academies there, and his natural abilities, aided by the excellence of the methods practised around him, to which his gifts moulded themselves quite naturally, enabled the probationer to make rapid advances in the study of the human figure, and laid the foundation for his future excellences. During his first sojourn, which lasted for nearly two years, Rowlandson became a perfect French buck, with a decided leaning, however, towards the fine-art section of the condition, and a pride in his professional calling; he learned to draw with fidelity to nature, with the graceful ease, and _abandon_, and the sparkle of style which marks French pictorial art of the period immediately antecedent to the reign of Louis the Sixteenth, the very ideal of luxury and refinement. It is related that, during his abode in Paris, 'he occasionally permitted his satiric talents the indulgence of portraying the characteristics of that fantastic people, whose _outré_ habits perhaps scarcely demanded the exaggerations of caricature.' [Illustration] Rowlandson returned to London for a season; and, while still a youth in years, his studies at the Academy were resumed; his progress was now so marked that he was set up as a friendly rival to Mortimer, another talented student, who had won the admiration of professors and pupils alike, by his skilful drawings after the nude figure. Our artist seems to have been highly popular with the two sections of academicians and students; the former appreciated his masterly endowments, the latter were won by his whimsicalities, his spirit of mischief, and the marvellous gift he possessed of turning every situation to comical account in the production of exhaustless graphic satires, which seemed to flow from his pen of their own sweet wilfulness. John Bannister, who, as we have seen, had evinced an equal predilection for the graphic art, with powers, however, of lesser brilliancy, was then studying in the antique school, their old friendship was renewed, and a fresh alliance for fun and frolic was straightway entered into. These hopeful aspirants were a great acquisition to the mirth of the schools, but both these eccentric geniuses must have sorely tried the patience of their venerated pastors and masters. The nature of their drolleries, which were incessant, is exposed in an extract from the _Reminiscences_ of Henry Angelo, who formed the third person of this waggish trio. 'At the period when Wilson held the appointment of Librarian to the Royal Academy, the students were accustomed to assemble in the library; Bannister and Rowlandson were students, and both being sprightly wights, Wilson kept a watchful eye upon their pranks. The one was apt to engage the attention of his fellow-disciples by caricaturing the surly librarian, never forgetting to exaggerate his mulberry nose; whilst the other, born to figure in the histrionic art, a mimic by nature, used to divert them, in his turn, by playing off the irritable 'Old Dick.' Michael Moser was keeper at Somerset House while Bannister and Rowlandson were students of the Royal Academy, at which period the drawing-school was held in a part of the old palace, Somerset House, just behind the site of the present institution. Moser, in virtue of his office as keeper, had apartments there, which included accommodations for a housekeeper, and other female domestics. 'Bannister and Rowlandson, as before observed, were prankish youths. The latter once gave great offence by carrying a pea-shooter into the life academy, and, whilst old Moser was adjusting the female model, and had just directed her contour, Rowlandson let fly a pea, which, making her start, she threw herself entirely out of position, and interrupted the gravity of the study for the whole evening. For this offence, Master Rowlandson went near getting himself expelled. 'Bannister, who at this time drew in the plaster academy, not having gained the step that admitted to the drawing from the life, used to amuse Moser with his mimicry, and he was, indeed, a pet of the worthy keeper. [Illustration] 'One evening, observing that the student had vacated his seat at his desk, the keeper went to seek him, and, hearing an unusual giggling and confusion in the basement storey he descended to learn the cause; when he discovered the young artist romping with the servant-maids. 'What are you doing, sir, hey?' inquired the keeper, taking him gently by the ear; 'why are you not at the _cast_? You are an idler, sir.' Bannister met his reproof with an arch smile, and whispered, 'No, kind sir, I only came down to study from the _life_!' In dealing with this part of the subject, every scrap of information has its interest, the resources in this direction being unfortunately most restricted. The task of writing on Gillray, and that within the lifetime of the subject, was likened to the toil 'of bondsmen commanded to make bricks without straw,' a comparison with which we have a lively sympathy, as we have realised to the fullest extent the difficulties which surrounded that undertaking. The obstacles to be surmounted in the instance of the first caricaturist are found to be rather more vexatious in the case of the companion volume, taken up under similar auspices, to elucidate the works of Rowlandson, and to trace the artist's career as far as lies within the writer's capabilities. Sixty years ago it was declared while treating of the first-named genius, in reference to contemporaneous indifference: 'It is a scandal upon all the cold-hearted scribblers in the land to allow such a genius as Gillray to go to the grave unnoticed; and a burning shame that so many of his works should have become ambiguous for want of a commentator. The political squibs have lost half of their point for want of a glossary, and many of the humorous traits of private life, so characteristic of men and manners, are becoming oblivious to ninety-nine hundredths of those who perambulate the streets of this mighty town.' This remark, so appropriately applied to Gillray (before Thomas Wright, and successive elucidators, had contributed to render the reading of these pictorial fables fairly clear, and the solutions easy of access), is equally striking as respects its undoubted truth in its application to Rowlandson--in his instance the pioneering remained to be accomplished--although his works are less complex in themselves, a description of them has hitherto proved too perplexing an attempt, since, how were the subjects to be collected? We feel a glow of gratitude to that worthiest old authority, _The Gentleman's Magazine_, which contained a capital obituary notice on the caricaturist's decease, April 22, 1827, written by 'one who had known him for more than forty years;' this article has been copied literally in all subsequent notices of Rowlandson. [Illustration] W. H. Pyne, the artist, who, under a pseudonym as _Ephraim Hardcastle_, conducted the earliest of English fine-art reviews, _The Somerset House Gazette_, 1824, was one of the intimates of the caricaturist, and he has left slight allusions to Rowlandson, both in his _Gazette_ and in another publication of his enterprising, _Wine and Walnuts, or After Dinner Chat_, by Ephraim Hardcastle, 1823. John Thomas Smith, as we have shown elsewhere, was on terms of personal friendship with Rowlandson throughout his life; but strangely enough, in his Nollekens and his Times, and his second volume, _Memoirs of several Contemporary Artists from the time of Roubiliac, Hogarth and Reynolds, to that of Fuseli, Flaxman, and Blake_, no mention is made of his much-esteemed associate. A passing allusion to his 'friend and fellow-pupil' Rowlandson, occurs in 'Antiquity' Smith's _Book for a Rainy Day_. Henry Angelo, the early schoolfellow and constant comrade of our artist, a gentleman of varied accomplishments, obliged the reading public with his _Reminiscences_ in 1830, a chatty, interesting, and in some respects highly valuable book, of which we wish there were more, since the two volumes are, as described by the title, filled with _memoirs of his friends, including numerous original anecdotes and curious traits of the most celebrated characters that have flourished during the last eighty years_. Unlike the author of _Nollekens and his Times_, Angelo has given due prominence to his recollections of the caricaturist's works and career, and his terms of familiar intimacy have supplied him with many entertaining details, trivial or unimportant in themselves perhaps, but very much to the purpose from a biographical point of view, as aids to the effort of reproducing the subject in his wonted aspect, as he struck the men amongst whom he passed his life. The spirit of Angelo's _Reminiscences_ will not bear dilution, and so we think it better to offer his memoirs of the artist as they were published. 'Thomas Rowlandson, John Bannister, and myself, having early in life evinced a predilection for the study of drawing, we became acquainted whilst boys, and were inseparable companions. [Illustration] 'Everyone at all acquainted with the arts must well know the caricature works of that very eccentric genius, Rowlandson; the extent of his talent, however, as a draughtsman is not so generally known. His studies from the human figure at the Royal Academy were made in so masterly a style that he was set up as a rival to Mortimer, whom he certainly would have excelled, had his subsequent study kept pace with the fecundity of his invention. His powers, indeed, were so versatile, and his fancy so rich, that every species of composition flowed from his pen with equal facility. His misfortune, indeed, was, as I have been assured by capable authorities who noticed his juvenile progress, that of possessing too ready an invention; this rare faculty, strange as it may seem, however desirable to the poet, often proves the bane of the painter. "The poet," as Milton says, "can build the lofty rhyme," even with a dash of his pen. The painter, however easily he may conceive the structure of a mighty building--be it a temple, or be it a ship--must describe the subject perfectly with all its parts; he must set to work _doggedly_, as the great lexicographer, Johnson, said, and labour at the thing with the patience of the philosopher. Rowlandson was no philosopher, and so his uncontrollable spirit, sweeping over the prescribed pale, took its excursive flights and caught its thema on the wing. Hence I think it may safely be averred that he has sketched or executed more subjects of real scenes in his original rapid manner, than any ten artists his contemporaries, and etched more plates than any artist, ancient or modern. 'Few persons--judging from the careless style of drawing and etching which he so fatally indulged in, too soon, after acquiring the first rudiments of his art--would believe the possibility of his being the author of some of his earlier designs; for although all are too slight, yet there are certain subjects of his composition carried through with a compatibility of style so truly original, and so replete with painter-like feeling, that Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir Benjamin West pronounced them wonders of art.' On this same head we have the testimony of Ephraim Hardcastle in the _Somerset House Gazette_. A certain weight, beyond the mere evidence of partiality, is due to the opinions of such authorities as Henry Angelo and W. H. Pyne, who at least deserve the credit of understanding the subject; both were familiar with the best works of their day, and in the case of the latter we respect the opinion of an artist of wide experience and well-known repute. 'Thomas Rowlandson, the merry wag, he who has covered with his never-flagging pencil enough of _charta pura_ to placard the whole walls of China, and etched as much copper as would sheathe the British navy. Of his graphic fun and frolic we have seen, Heaven knows, full many a ponderous folio. [Illustration] 'Master Roley, so friendly dubbed by many an old _convive_, would have taken higher flights of art had he so willed, for he could draw with elegance and grace; for the design, no mind was ever better stored with thought--no genius more prolific. Nothing, even allowing for caricature, could exceed in spirit and intelligence some of the off-hand compositions of this worthy. 'Predilections for outline and the pen have ruined many a genius who would have done honour to the arts. Mortimer, Porter, and many other artists have sacrificed their talents and their fame to the indulgence of doing that with the pen (confound both goose-quill, crow-quill, and the reed!) that should have occupied that fitter instrument the pencil, aforetime called the painting-brush.' Angelo affords us occasional glimpses of Rowlandson in Paris, and frequently alludes to the artist's travels on the Continent. It seems, at various stages of his career, he roved about sometimes in search of subjects, at others, on parties of pleasure. We have seen the young student sent to Paris to pursue art; later on Angelo finds him there, at nineteen, still earnest and hard-working. 'The subjects of his humorous designs were not sought in England alone. He travelled early in life to France, Flanders, and Holland; and stored his portfolios with sketches highly characteristic of the habits and manners of the people, at every town through which he passed. Paris, as viewed under the old _régime_, opened a prolific source for his imitative powers. Nothing can exceed the fun and frolic which his subjects display, picked up among every class, from the court down to the _cabaret_. He mixed in all societies, and speaking French fluently, made himself acquainted with the habits of thinking, as well as those of acting, in that city, where everything to an English eye bore the appearance of burlesque. 'Hogarth had already pronounced Paris "all begilt and befouled." Rowlandson found it so; and taking that as a sort of maxim which governed all things, physical as well as moral, in the polite city, he burlesqued even the burlesque. 'His drawings of _The Italian_ and _The French Family_, from which John Raffael Smith made engravings, had great merit. My friend John Bannister had one of the originals. I remember the last time I saw poor Edwin the comedian (I mean the elder), was on occasion of his wishing me to procure for him these originals. He was too late in his application, and was obliged to solace himself with the coloured prints, which were touched upon by the hand of Rowlandson. They were handsomely framed and hung in his dining-room on the first floor of one of the houses on the north-east piazza, Covent Garden. They subsequently became the property of Lord Barrymore. 'It would be difficult to enumerate the many choice subjects which he depicted even in these first tours to the Continent. Those descriptive of Parisian manners would now be viewed with tenfold interest, as the general external appearance of things was infinitely more original and amusing before the period of the commencement of the Revolution than since. Indeed, I can speak of these changes from my own observation, whilst two years in that city, and in the midst of its ever-varying gaieties, more than half a century ago.[8] 'During my residence there, Rowlandson came over in company with an Englishman of the name of Higginson, whom he got acquainted with at Dover; a pleasant companion, but, as it fell out, one who seemed to live on his wits. 'Their arrival in Paris was immediately after the death of Louis the Fifteenth at the moment of the putting on public mourning (1774). Mr. Higginson had letters of introduction (like Sylvester Daggerwood) to several persons of distinction, and resided at an hotel adjacent to my quarters. He sent the _valet de place_ with a civil note to request the loan of my black suit, which he knew would fit him to a T. On the written assurance that it would be returned in time for me to pay a promised visit in the evening, I readily consented. Rowlandson lost sight of him for two days and nights; on the morning of the third day he returned, and I went, not over well pleased, to demand restitution, when on entering his apartment, he received me with, "Ah! _mon ami_, is it you?" seated under the frosting powder-puff of a French _friseur_, having his hair frizzled and powdered _à la mode_, in my mourning suit. Rowlandson sketched the group, and subjoined a motto, "Free and Easy." I had many of the drawings made by my friend Roly at this time.' It is most likely that our artist's first contribution to the Royal Academy (it was the seventh exhibition) arrived from Paris; in 1775 there appeared, under the catalogue Number 253, a certain drawing entitled _Delilah payeth Sampson a visit while in prison at Gaza_, by Thomas Rowlandson; the exhibitor's address is given '_at_ No. 4 Church Street, St. Ann's.' This, no doubt, like his contributions up to 1784, was of a serious character.[9] From 1777 we find Rowlandson settled down to portrait-painting, his address being given at Wardour Street; his contributions to the Academy were as follow:-- 1777. No. 302. A Drawing. 1778. " 259. Portrait of a Young Gentleman, whole length. 1779. " 275. An Officer, small, whole length. " " 276. A Gentleman. 1780. " 373. Landscape and Figures. 1781. " 334. Portrait of a Lady in a fancy dress. " " 339. Portrait of a Gentleman. It is improbable, however, that the artist's disposition for change would allow him to vegetate in one spot for any length of time, and we are not surprised to discover that his tours to the Continent became frequent; as far as we can judge of his extended travels, it appears it was in 1778--while his youthful ardour was still fresh, when his sprightly faculties had not been jaded by the allurements of fashionable life, and his hand had not been betrayed into the careless execution which determined some time after his decisive rejection of serious art for the indulgence of uncompromising caricature--that he went very earnestly to work; travelling in Flanders and through the cities of Germany; making clever studies and finished pictures of the incidents of his journeys; noting the travellers he encountered, their mode of conveyance, the foreign nobility and their equipages, the townsfolks and the country people, coaches, waggons, and, above all, horses (which he then drew with great fidelity and spirit from life), as far as the figure subjects which enlivened his pictures were concerned; while his views were faithful representations of the places he visited, worked out with the completeness of landscape art. [Illustration] The drawings of this period evince the excellence of his talents. There is sufficient spice of character introduced into the groups, and incidents which give action to his pictures, to raise his subjects above the average treatment, but the comic element is subordinated to the general harmony of the whole conception; and we have every opportunity of forming our opinion, from the numerous interesting series of studies which have come under our attention, that it was not until about 1782 that our artist began to cut himself adrift from the more legitimate occupation of his vast abilities in the regions of serious art, for the allurements which the readier exercise of his talents as a caricaturist held out for the indulgence of his eccentric and wayward tendencies. As we have seen, his early bias was undoubtedly towards the simply ludicrous; then intervened his academic training in London and Paris, the maturing of his powers necessitating an immense, and indeed almost incredible amount of sterling hard work, such as fitted him to excel in any branch of his calling he elected to pursue; followed by an attempt towards his establishment as a serious artist and portrait-painter, and then a relapse in the direction of his early impulses. This inclination was fostered by the encouragement of his friends, and the influence of their example. His cronies were, as was most natural, the humorous designers. There was the great and gifted Gillray, the prince of caricaturists, whose works created an impression on the public justified by their remarkable qualities. The friendship of this man, whose reputation was so wide, and whose mastery of the situation appeared extraordinary, encouraged Rowlandson to strike out a pathway in the same direction; bringing original qualifications to bear on this impetus, which in no degree clashed with the strongly marked intentions of Gillray's scathing inventions. There was his constant friend Henry Wigstead, a man of social standing, profusely liberal in his house, a jovial companion out of doors; who, richly endowed with the vein of humorous invention allied to powers of observation, and a refined sense of the beautiful, as well as a ready knack of seizing the comic features of a situation, entrusted his sketches to Rowlandson, that they might be produced in fitting form; and to the proper execution of these whimsicalities Rowlandson willingly lent the full force of his own trained skill. Another amateur of distinction, whose example and influence must have had considerable weight with our artist, was Henry Bunbury, the caricaturist, a man of family, of means, and, above all, of high culture. The celebrated Bunbury seemed formed expressly to be courted by the most eminent of his contemporaries; he had married one of the beautiful Miss Hornecks; the Duke and Duchess of York were delighted with his company; amongst the brilliant assemblies at Wynnstay, Bunbury's society was the most relished; Walpole, Garrick, Reynolds, and Goldsmith were constantly laying adulation at his feet, or exchanging gallant little pleasantries with this favoured child of fortune; West and Reynolds were respectfully solicitous that he should send his contributions to the Royal Academy; the writers of the day were given to deplore that the occupations of town and country life, the court, the hunting-field, and the ceremony of receiving company at his country-house or paying visits to the seats of his noble friends, sadly interfered with the exercise of his artistic abilities. [Illustration] The instance of Bunbury, who was Rowlandson's senior by six years, no doubt had considerable influence upon our artist's career; the praise and adulation lavished upon the amateur sketches of the man of fashion, and the prophecies which writers were in the habit of recording, that, if Bunbury had not, from his birth and station, been indifferent to mere monetary advantages, the pursuit of his talents must have infallibly produced him a large access of fortune (which he did not need, by the way, since his means were ample) possibly helped to turn Rowlandson from quietly persevering in the less congenial study of portraiture, and induced him to show the public what could be done in the grotesque walk. Nor must we forget Mitchell the banker, whose friendship was always at our caricaturist's service, his travelling companion to the Continent, where Rowlandson and his patron passed for the veritable representatives of John Bull. There was 'the facetious Nixon,' the pleasant and witty John, 'a choice member of the celebrated Old British Beef-Steak Club, honorary secretary, and sometime providore to that society of native gourmands;' further, like his friend Bunbury, distinguished as a man of talent and taste, possessed of original gifts in the humorous department of graphic art, he was an honorary exhibitor at Somerset House for many years: this gentleman, who had perfected the study of how to get the largest possible amount of enjoyment out of existence, also came to Rowlandson to put his drawings into acceptable shape, and to introduce his eccentric pleasantries to the public. Nor must the well-known amateurs and choice spirits, Woodward and Collings, be omitted from the list of those familiars of the artist who, by precept and example, encouraged him to devote his accomplishments to the comic branch. It is not surprising that the tendency of this influence, allied to the strong original bias natural to our artist, drew him farther away from the steady pursuit of art, and plunged him into the tempting career of a caricaturist, a pursuit which held out peculiar attractions to an artist gifted with his whimsical inclinations. We must do Rowlandson the credit to admit that, at the outset, he distinguished himself marvellously. His first contributions, under his changed profession, were by no means discreditable to his great qualifications; indeed these drawings, from the successful impression they produced on the public, appeared to justify the resolution the artist had taken, and to prove that he was evidently more at home in the fanciful branch than any of his predecessors or contemporaries. In 1784 Rowlandson contributed three somewhat ambitious subjects to the Royal Academy Exhibition; according to the Catalogue No. 462, _An Italian Family_; No. 503, _Vauxhall_; No. 511, _The Serpentine River_. _Vauxhall Gardens_, which is possibly the best recognised of Rowlandson's more aspiring compositions, was engraved by R. Pollard, aquatinted, to resemble the drawing, by F. Jukes, and published under the auspices of John Raphael Smith, also a convivial companion, a leading spirit amongst the careless souls who formed Rowlandson's social surroundings; the well-known printseller, who was 'a jack-of-all-trades' according to his own admission, was celebrated for his liberality to artists; he personally practised the arts both of engraving and painting, and he excelled in executing spirited portrait sketches, in crayons, 'miniatures in large' as they were called, of the fashionable personages of his day. The Study of _Vauxhall_ is replete with character; the persons of the principal frequenters are, it is believed, portraits of numerous celebrities of the period. Angelo, in his _Reminiscences_, which touch upon every topic of the time, among other interesting allusions, recounts the partiality which he and Rowlandson entertained for the popular resort of the past, and the attractions which, according to his admission, its diversions held out to the pair. '_Vauxhall._--I remember the time when Vauxhall (in 1776, the price of admission being then only one shilling) was more like a bear garden than a rational place of resort, and most particularly on Sunday mornings. 'It was then crowded from four to six with gentry, demireps, apprentices, shop-boys, &c. Crowds of citizens were to be seen trudging home with their wives and children. Rowlandson the artist and myself have often been there, and he has found plenty of employment for his pencil. 'The _chef-d'oeuvre_ of his caricatures, which is still in print, is his drawing of Vauxhall, in which he has introduced a variety of characters known at the time, particularly that of my old schoolfellow at Eton, Major Topham, the macaroni of the day. One curious scene he sketched on the spot purposely for me. It was this:--A citizen and his family are seen all seated in a box eating supper, when one of the riffraff in the gardens throws a bottle in the middle of the table, breaking the dishes and the glasses. The old man swearing, the wife fainting, and the children screaming, afforded full scope for his humorous pencil. 'Such night scenes as were then tolerated are now become obsolete. Rings were made in every part of the gardens to decide quarrels; it no sooner took place in one quarter, than by a contrivance of the light-fingered gentry, another row was created in another quarter to attract the crowd away.' [Illustration] Before taking leave of Rowlandson and Angelo, the most agreeable of companions, at Vauxhall, we must add a further note of another of their holiday jaunts, once more borrowed from the _Reminiscences_. 'Mrs. Weichsel (Mrs. Billington's mother) was the favourite singer at Vauxhall; upon one occasion she had her benefit at the little theatre in the Haymarket. Her daughter and son added considerably to the entertainment that night; though the former could not have been fourteen years old, her execution on the pianoforte surprised everyone. The son, then a little boy, played a solo on the fiddle in such peculiarly fine style that the audience were both astonished and delighted. Exhibiting his early abilities standing on a stool, I was present that night with Rowlandson the artist, who made a sketch of him playing, which he afterwards finished for me, and which, within these few years, was within my collection.' We will leave Rowlandson rejoicing in the popular impression his drawings had produced in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy for 1784, where, as his friends were inclined to prophesy, his fame and fortune were both assured, and turn to the subject of another fortune which seems to have come into his possession about this period. We have said that the artist was a spoiled child of prosperity; his contemporaries record their impression that the indulgences of his aunt, the ex-Mademoiselle Chattelier already referred to, as the kindly patroness of her wayward nephew's budding talents, who supplied him incautiously with money, when he would have been better without it, paved the foundation of those careless habits which attended his manhood; and to her injudicious generosity his biographer affects to trace that improvidence for which, says our authority, poor Rowlandson was remarkable through life. After this aunt's decease, she left him seven thousand pounds, much plate, trinkets, and other valuable property. He then indulged his predilections for a joyous life, and mixed himself with the gayest of the gay. Whilst at Paris, being of a social spirit, he sought the company of dashing young men; and among other evils, imbibed a love for play. He was known in London at many of the fashionable gaming houses, alternately won and lost, without emotion, till at length he was minus several thousand pounds. He thus dissipated the amount of more than one valuable legacy. It was said to his honour, however, that he always played with the feelings of a gentleman, and his word passed current even when with an empty purse. Rowlandson assured the writer of the memoir which appeared, on his death, in the obituary of _The Gentleman's Magazine_ for June 1827, that he had frequently played throughout a night and the next day; and that once, such was his infatuation for the dice, he continued at the gaming table nearly thirty-six hours, with the intervention only of the time for refreshment, which was supplied by a cold collation, presumably consumed on the spot and during the intervals of play. This uncontrollable passion for gambling, strange to say, did not pervert his principles. He was scrupulously upright in all his pecuniary transactions, and ever avoided getting into debt. He has been known, after having lost all he possessed, to return home to his professional studies, sit down coolly to produce a series of new designs, and to exclaim, with stoical philosophy, 'I have played the fool; but,' holding up his pencils or the reed pen with which he traced his flowing outlines, 'here is my resource.' Such was his dexterity of hand, combined with the richest fertility of imagination, and graphic mastery over the movements of the human figure, that in a few hours he produced inimitable pictures, replete with his best qualities of humour, form, and colour, with incredible rapidity; and these ingenious productions, invented in endless variety, were at once put into circulation, and excited the competition of collectors of drawings and caricatures, who eagerly accumulated every sketch which his facile hand designed, too often under the pressure of the actual necessities of the hour, or the careless effusions of the intervals in his pleasures or dissipations. Rowlandson's contributions to the Academy in the succeeding years were as follows:-- 1786. No. 560. A French Family. " " 566. Opera House Gallery. " " 575. An English Review. " " 583. A French Review. " " 599. Coffee House. 1787. " 525. The Morning Dram, or Huntsman rising. " " 529. Grog on Board a Ship. " " 531. French Barracks. " " 555. Countrymen and Sharpers. It was about this time that our caricaturist met with a somewhat disagreeable adventure, which is thus related by his friend Angelo:-- '_Rowlandson robbed._--Having walked one night with Rowlandson towards his house, when he lived in Poland Street,[10] we parted at the corner. It was then about twelve o'clock, and before he got to his door a man knocked him down, and, placing his knees on his breast, rifled him of his watch and money. The next day he proposed that we should be accompanied by a thief-taker, to try to find him out, as he was certain he should know him again. We first repaired to St. Giles's, Dyot Street, and Seven Dials, but to no purpose. In one of the night-houses, four ill-looking fellows, _des coupes-jarrets_, so attracted our attention, that whilst we sat over our noggin of spirits, as he always carried his sketch-book with him, he made an excellent caricature group of them for me, introducing a prison in the background. An idea may be formed from the caricature, of the different gradations which lead to the gallows--petty larceny, house-breaking, foot-pad and highway robbery; and he afterwards finished it for me in his best style, superior to the greater part of his works; this was about 1790. The coloured drawing once was included in my collection, in a room crowded with various subjects, the greatest part caricatures by my old friend Rowly--his general appellation among his friends. [Illustration] 'Our first interview originated in Paris (about 1775); he was then studying in the French school. Lately, having to dispose of my collection (I may say unique), my friend Bannister purchased it of me, and it was added to his many choice and valuable drawings of the first masters, which were so very superior that the four thieves ought to have esteemed it an honour to be placed in such good company.[11] 'The next night a gentleman was robbed in Soho Square in like manner. Soon afterwards several suspicious characters were taken to an office then in Litchfield Street, Soho, suspected of street robberies, and Rowlandson and myself went there out of curiosity, accompanied by many others who had been robbed. They were all placed before us, but none were identified. Rowlandson was particularly called upon to look around him, but to no purpose. One man in particular made himself more conspicuous than all the others, treating his curiosity with contempt, saying, "I defies the gemman to say as how I ever stopped him any _vare_." "No; but you are very like the description of the ruffian," answered Rowlandson, "who robbed a gentleman last Wednesday night in Soho Square." This was a thunderbolt to the man, who instantly looked pale and trembled. The gentleman was immediately sent for, and as soon as he entered the room, though there were several for examination, he fixed directly on the man that had been suspected. At the sessions following he was found guilty of robbery, and hanged. This pleased my friend mightily; "for, though I got knocked down," said he, "and lost my watch and money, and did not find the thief, I have been the means of hanging _one_ man. Come, that's doing something."' [Illustration] We incidentally learn a few particulars of subjects which found their way into Angelo's gallery, the collection which subsequently came into the possession of his excellent friend Bannister. '_Black and White._--Being fond of the arts and particularly of caricatures, I had by me a great number of Rowlandson's, to one of which I was puzzled to give a name. The subject was an old man, at breakfast, seated near the fire, his gouty leg on a stool, and the kettle boiling over; the water is falling on his leg, and he is ringing the bell. The room door is open behind him, and a black servant is kissing the maid, who is bringing in the toast. I requested Theodore Hook to write a title to it, and he put, "_Chacun à son goût_."'[12] We are further afforded an opportunity of recording Rowlandson's enthusiasm for his profession. The details of a certain visit he paid, with Angelo, to Portsmouth, and the unflinching nerve he exhibited under circumstances which were calculated to distress a less robust constitution, are thus recounted by his friend and travelling companion:-- 'The general rumour, after Lord Howe's action on June 1, 1794, was that he would return to Portsmouth. I was anxious to see the sight, for it was expected he would bring the French prizes with him. 'The evening after my arrival, according to promise, Rowlandson the artist came to join me. 'The morning following we saw, on the Gosport side, the landing of the French prisoners, numbers of different divisions filing off to the different stations allotted them. As for the wounded, previous to their quitting the boats, carts were placed alongside, and when filled, on the smack of the whip, were ordered to proceed. The sudden jolting made their groans appalling, and must have occasioned the wounds of many to produce an immediate hemorrhage. The sight was dreadful to behold: numbers were boys, mutilated, some not more than twelve years old, who had lost both legs. In the evening we went to Forton Prison. Those who were not in the last engagement were in high spirits in their shops, selling all sorts of toys and devices, made from shin-bones, &c. In one of the sick-wards we saw one of the prisoners, who, an officer told us had been a tall, handsome man, previous to the battle; but, having received a shot that had lacerated his side, a mortification had taken place. He was then making his will; his comrades were standing by, consoling him, some grasping his hand, shedding tears. 'This scene was too much for me, and made such an impression on my mind that I hastened away; but I could not persuade Rowlandson to follow me, his inclination to make a sketch of the dying moment getting the better of his feelings. After waiting some time below for my friend, he produced a rough sketch of what he had seen:--a ghastly figure sitting up in bed, a priest holding a crucifix before him, with a group standing around. The interior exhibited the contrivance of the French to make their prison habitable. When finished, it was added to my collection, a memento of the shocking sight I beheld at Forton Prison. 'Our curiosity not stopping here, we entered another sick-ward, but the stench and closeness of the place, crowded as it was, prevented our remaining there more than a very short time. The next day, having seen quite enough, I returned to town. Rowlandson went to Southampton, where he made a number of sketches of Lord Moira's embarkation for _La Vendée_. I saw them afterwards, and was delighted, for it appeared he had taken more pains than usual, and he must have portrayed them well, from having been on the spot himself at the time. The shipping and the various boats filled with soldiers were so accurately delineated, that I have often since regretted that I did not at that time purchase them. Mr. Fores of Piccadilly, who had by him many of the very finest drawings executed by Rowlandson in his best days (for latterly they were inferior), fortunately purchased them. He was one of his first and best patrons; and I understand he had twenty-five folio volumes of the most choice caricatures of the last and present centuries, which must have been an invaluable _recueil_, showing not only what we have been, but the age we lived in. Had Rowlandson gone with the expedition then landing in _La Vendée_ as a draughtsman, the attack at Fort Penthièvre, and the incident that followed, would have furnished us with many eventful scenes of that fatal expedition.' [Illustration] As we have related, Rowlandson was no stranger to the Continent; in the early part of his career he was constantly abroad. We have shown how he studied in Paris; afterwards we find him wandering farther afield, and taking in Germany and the Netherlands. Then we are introduced to him as a man of fashion, bowling through the legacies which had fallen to his lot, both in the French metropolis and in London, calmly sitting down to gamble away his fortune by the shortest route with the best will in the world. Anon he accompanies his friend Mitchell the banker on a wider tour. Then we hear of his sojourning in Paris with other congenial spirits, and making the most of the passing season with his friends John Raphael Smith, Westmacott, and Chasemore: on all these occasions he produced drawings innumerable; his most frequent travelling companion seems, however, to have been his steadfast patron the banker, and it was this liberal collector who rejoiced in the opportunity of securing the artist's most desirable Continental studies. Our oft-quoted authority Angelo, who, happily for those who entertain an interest in the caricaturist, never tires of telling little anecdotes of his chum Roley, in his own familiar manner relates a few particulars of the figure these worthies made in the eyes of the _Monsieurs_, amongst whom their visits were favourably received. 'Mr. Mitchell, however, possessed the best collection of Rowlandson's French and Dutch scenes. Among those were many in his most humorous style, particularly a _Dutch Life Academy_, which represents the interior of a school of artists, studying from a living model, all with their portfolios and crayons, drawing a Dutch Venus (a _vrow_) of the make, though not of the colour, of that choice specimen of female proportion, the _Hottentot Venus_, so celebrated as a public sight in London, a few years since. 'This friend and patron of Rowlandson, Mr. Mitchell the quondam banker, of the firm of Hodsol and Co., was a facetious, fat gentleman--one of those pet children of fortune, who, wonderful as it may appear, seem to have proceeded through all the seven ages (excepting that of the _lean_ and slippered pantaloon), without a single visit from that intruder upon the rest of mankind, yclept _Care_. In him centred, or rather around him the Fates piled up, the wealth of a whole family. He was ever the great gathering _nucleus_ to a large fortune. He was good-humoured and enjoyed life. Many a cheerful day have I, in company with Bannister and Rowlandson, passed at Master Mitchell's.' Under the auspices of this great banker, Rowlandson subsequently made a tour to France, and other parts of the Continent. 'His mighty stature astonished the many, but none more than the innkeepers' wives, who, on his arrival, as he travelled in style, looked at the larder, and then again at the guest. All regarded him as that reported being, of whom they had heard, the veritable Mister Bull. His orders for the supplies of the table, ever his first concern, strengthened this opinion, and his operations at his meals confirmed the fact. 'Wherever he went he made good for the house. 'On this tour, Rowlandson made many topographical drawings, in general views of cities and towns; amongst others, the High Street at Antwerp, and the Stadt House at Amsterdam, with crowds of figures, grouped with great spirit, though his characters were caricatures. 'The most amusing studies, however, which filled the portfolio of his patron were those that portrayed the habits and customs of the Dutch and Flemish, in the interior scenes, which they witnessed in their nocturnal rambles in the inferior streets at Antwerp and Amsterdam. Some of these compositions, drawn from low life, were replete with character and wit. One of the most spirited and amusing of these represented the interior of a _Treischuit_, or public passage-boat, which was crowded with incident and humour.'[13] Another reminiscence of Rowlandson and Mitchell is found in the _Somerset-house Gazette_, edited by Ephraim Hardcastle (W. H. Pyne), an intimate associate of the caricaturist and a member of the artist's circle of friends. 'I look back with pleasure to former days, when old Mr. Greenwood used to hold the print auctions by candle-light, and have a perfect recollection of his good-humour and upright dealing. I well remember, too, a number of artists and amateurs who constantly attended his room, to purchase etchings of the old masters for themselves and friends. 'Old Parsons, as he was called, and young Bannister, the celebrated comedians, were both collectors and amateur artists: the latter was considered an excellent judge of prints. Rowlandson, the humorous draughtsman, and his friend and patron Mr. Mitchell the banker, of the firm of Hodsols, were also frequently of this evening rendezvous of artists, amateurs, and connoisseurs.' John Thomas Smith, the whilom pupil of Nollekens the sculptor (with whose life he favoured the public), and one of Mr. Reid's predecessors as Keeper of the Print Room of the British Museum, in his loquacious _Book for a Rainy Day_ rambles into the subject of picture sale-rooms, and notes the eccentric characters, collectors, and their individualities, to be met with thereat in his time. On this subject 'Antiquity Smith's' account tallies with that given by Angelo. We have confined our extract to the paragraph which introduces the caricaturist as a crony and erst fellow-pupil of the versatile chronicler. 'I must not omit to mention another singular but most honourable character, of the name of Heywood, nick-named "Old Iron-wig." His dress was precise, and manner of walking rather stiff. He was an extensive purchaser of every kind of article in art, particularly Rowlandson's drawings; for this purpose he employed the merry and friendly Mr. Seguier, the picture-dealer, a school-fellow of my father's, to bid for him. 'I shall now close this list by observing that my friend and fellow-pupil, Rowlandson, who has frequently made drawings of Hutchins and his print auctions, has produced a most spirited etching, in which not only many of the above described characters are introduced, but also most of the print-sellers of his day.' The editor of this work has seen a drawing by Rowlandson of this very auction, the _cognoscenti_ gathered round the long tables lighted with flickering candles, and peering over the engravings, glasses on nose, while the auctioneer was endeavouring to excite the interest of the company in the prints brought to his rostrum. Before we pass on to other contemporaries of the caricaturist, we think it advisable to introduce the reader to the society which Rowlandson shared round the hospitable mahogany of the banker, who, like Wigstead, Nixon, Weltjé, and certain other generous hosts of our artist's acquaintance, appears to have kept open house for the entertainment of choice friends, where the enjoyments of social intercourse were prolonged to the verge of dissipation, and the fun, which enlivened their hours of relaxation, was frequently kept up until the next day was well advanced; the associates being loth to interrupt the pleasures of their sitting, protracted as their gaieties might be considered according to the more staid usages of a better regulated age, such as we have been taught to regard our own. 'Mr. Mitchell resided for many years in Beaufort Buildings, Strand, and occupied the house tenanted by the father of Dr. Kitchiner, of eccentric memory. Here, after the closing of the banking-house, he was wont to retire, and pass a social evening, surrounded by a few chosen associates whose amusements were congenial, and whose talent well paid the host for his hot supper and generous wine. Often, even beyond the protracted darkness of a winter's night, he and his _convives_ have sat it out till dawn of day, and seen the sun, struggling through the fog, from the back windows, shed its lurid ray on the rippling waters of the murky Thames. [Illustration] 'Well do I remember sitting in this comfortable apartment, listening to the stories of my old friend Peter Pindar, whose wit seemed not to kindle until after midnight, at the period of about his fifth or sixth glass of brandy and water. Rowlandson, too, having nearly accomplished his twelfth glass of punch, and replenishing his pipe with choice _oronooko_, would chime in. The tales of these two gossips, told in one of these nights, each delectable to hear, would make a modern _Boccaccio_.' Angelo, in his capital chatty _Memoirs_, relates an anecdote of one of Wigstead's pranks played off on the satirist Peter Pindar, whose trenchant wit spared 'nor friend nor foe;' but, in his turn, Dr. Wolcot did not relish ridicule, especially when it happened to be excited at his own expense. It was discovered that, eminently satirical as was the bard with his pen, he was not emulous to shine as a wit in colloquial intercourse with strangers, or even amongst his most intimate associates. It was asserted, with some fidelity, that 'Dr. Wolcot's wit seemed to lie in the bowl of a teaspoon.' 'I could not guess the riddle,' writes the discursive and cheerful author of the _Reminiscences_, 'until one evening, seated at Mitchell's, I observed that each time Peter replenished his glass goblet with cognac and water, that, in breaking the sugar, the corners of his lips were curled into a satisfactory smile, and he began some quaint story--as if, indeed, the new libation begot a new thought. 'Determined to prove the truth of the discovery which I fancied I had made, one night after supper, at my own residence in Bolton Row, he being one among a few social guests, I made my promised experiment. One of the party, who delighted in a little practical joke, namely Wigstead, of merry memory, being in the secret, he came provided with some small square pieces of alabaster. Peter Pindar's glass waning fast, Wigstead contrived to slip the fragments of spurious sweetness into a sugar-basin provided for the purpose, when the Doctor reaching the hot water, and pouring in the brandy, Wigstead handed him the sugar-tongs, and then advanced the basin of alabaster. "Thank you, boy," said Peter, putting in five or six pieces, and taking his tea-spoon, began stirring as he commenced his story. 'Unsuspicious of the trick, he proceeded: "Well, sirs,--and so, the old parish-priest.--What I tell you (then his spoon went to work) happened when I was in that infernally hot place, Jamaica (then another stir). Sir, he was the fattest man on the island (then he pressed the alabaster); yes, damme, sir; and when the thermometer, at ninety-five, was dissolving every other man, this old slouching, drawling, son of the Church got fatter and fatter, until, sir--curse the sugar! some devil-black enchanter has bewitched it. By ---- sir, this sugar is part and parcel of that old pot-bellied parson--it will never melt;" and he threw the contents of the tumbler under the grate. We burst into laughter, and our joke lost us the conclusion of the story. Wigstead skilfully slipped the mock sugar out of the way, and the Doctor, taking another glass, never suspected the frolic.' Let us take a further glimpse of the social meetings which Rowlandson shared in company with Angelo, who duly set down the outlines of the evenings' diversions in his _Memoirs_. As this anecdote introduces a personage who figures somewhat prominently amidst the more lively records of the period, we must be allowed to say a word or two about the giver of the feast, where we are admitted by favour and enabled to watch the proceedings from a distance. Another excellent friend, occasional host, and boon companion of our caricaturist was, as we have mentioned, Weltjé, the Prince of Wales' cook and steward, a German of eccentric proclivities, who was pretty universally recognised as a character in his generation. The huge person of this worthy is frequently introduced into the social satires of the period; the artistic and literary wags alike delighted to make the figure of the old _bon-vivant_ conspicuous; it seems that Weltjé was in no wise offended at this popularity, however unflattering might be the intentions of the wicked wights; he was a calm humoristic philosopher, whose composure was not easily deranged, and in return for their mischievous sallies, which only amused him, he made the wits, who grew waggish at his expense, his guests at his residence Hammersmith Mall; where he kept such a table as attracted all classes of society, and to which his friends were ever welcome. Weltjé's culinary accomplishments, united with his hospitable proclivities, rendered him a truly remarkable host; his good humour was imperturbable, his store of anecdotes inexhaustible, and his German bluntness rather added to the charm of his pleasantries; even that superfine Sybarite and highly sensitive exquisite, the Heir Apparent, Mr. Weltjé's patron and employer, was glad to dissemble his offended dignity when his precious and immovable cook was the assailant. Angelo, who declares he owed many a convivial day to the kindness of this rough diamond, assures us in his _Reminiscences_: 'Whether at Carlton House or his own, Weltjé was always remarkable for singularity. I have been told that when Alderman Newnham was one day dining at Carlton House, the Prince said to him, "Newnham, don't you think there is a strange taste in the soup?" "It appears so to me, your highness." "Send for Weltjé." When Weltjé made his appearance, the Prince observed that the soup had a strange taste. Weltjé called to one of the pages, "Give me de _spoone_," and putting it in the tureen, after tasting it several times, said, "Boh! boh! tish very goote," and immediately left the room, leaving the spoon on the table, without taking further notice of the complaint.' [Illustration] It is not, however, with the worthy Weltjé at Carlton House, but at his own villa, that we have to deal. Angelo introduces us to a capital dinner-party which took place at Hammersmith Mall, when the old associates, Rowlandson, Bannister, and Munden, were among the guests; Madame Banti the opera-singer, and Taylor, also of the Opera House, with Mr. Palmer of Bath, contributed to make up a tolerably festive party. The dinner was long and _bien recherché_; the dishes choice, and cooked in superior style; the sprightly conversation, in which the company delighted, had been somewhat suspended during the discussion of a great variety of _entremets_, which were duly appreciated by all the guests, and especially by Madame Banti, who not only tasted of every dish, but, in addition to a quantity of strong ale, drank a bottle of champagne. The guests were preparing for that flow of wine and conversation which were the _agrémens_ of social intercourse at the period. The repast was concluded as everyone imagined, and nobody felt disposed to touch another morsel, when Weltjé's grand piece of the entertainment made its appearance--a huge boar's head, at which delicacy everyone stared in consternation. Weltjé plunged into his element, mixing up _sauces piquantes_ at table, of such ingredients as oil, lemon, cayenne, and different concomitants. The guests, already lavishly regaled, were inclined to expostulate. 'Indeed, Weltjé, we have had more than enough.' 'Boh!' responds the entertainer, 'I vill make you all hungry again; two heads gomed to dis gontry, von for me, toder for de Queen, dat de Prince of Bronsvick sent;' and away proceeded the compounding of sauces. The long interval occupied in Weltjé's culinary preparations was shortened by droll anecdotes, peculiar to his own description, introduced for the purpose of distracting the attention. Such was his account of his adventure on his return home to Hammersmith, in his carriage, from Carlton House. 'Fon I gote to de fost dumbpike beyond Kensington, from town, de goach stobed some time, fon me say, "Godam, ged on:" fon de dumbike say, "Sir, dere be nobody on de bokes." I was very much fraightened, so I did ged up mine-self. The next day gome de goachman: "Pray, sir, fon am I to ged the carriage ready?" "Tartifle, what become of you last night?"' The coachman, it appears, had fallen off the box in a drunken stupor; unhurt, he had, never troubling himself about his charge, taken a nap all night under a hedge, and attended on his master the next morning to receive orders as coolly as if nothing unusual had happened. The _sauce piquante_ is ready by the time the host has raised a few laughs; clean plates are handed round; a large dish is filled with slices of the boar's head, swimming in provocative mixtures; and the guests fall to again; verifying, as Angelo relates, the French proverb that, _l'appétit vient en mangeant_, or, as Hamlet says, 'As if increase of appetite had grown with what it fed on.' The second repast proved so excellent that the plates were continually replenished. The poets, painters, actors, musicians, and others, who crowded Weltjé's liberal entertainments, with 'those whose superior station was more suited to a palace,' then gave themselves up to unrestrained mirthfulness. The dinner Angelo describes will serve as a type of the many similar entertainments at which our caricaturist assisted. With the dessert Madame Banti became somewhat lively, from her repeated libations of champagne, being, as Angelo informs us, 'in higher spirits than any French woman I had ever seen. With the enthusiasm of a true John Bull, she sang "God save the King," that she might have been heard on the other side of the river. Munden, whom she had never seen before, sang the "Old Woman of Eighty;" and to give effect to the song, tied his pocket-handkerchief round his head, though his superior humour needed no addition. When he had finished his song, Banti left her seat in ecstasy, and went to the other side of the table, where he and I were sitting, and was so pleased with his mummery (it could be nothing else, for Joe never was an Adonis), that she came behind his chair and kissed him; which, however, did not excite a blush, but an agreeable surprise. What with the songs, the choice wines, the delicious fruits (from Weltjé's hothouse), and the zest given to the entertainment by Banti, it formed such a delightful treat, that the evening passed too quickly, and it was time to depart long before we were sated with "the feast of reason and the flow of soul."' To return to the working life of our caricaturist: it must be borne in mind that Rowlandson's journeys were not confined to the Continent; from drawings which have come under our attention, we find he must have seen the Lakes; it is highly probable that he paid a visit to Henry Bunbury, who, towards the close of his life, settled at Keswick, where he died in 1811. We also know, from his works, that our artist was familiar with England and Wales: his tours, with his friend Henry Wigstead, have produced many interesting _souvenirs_; we have described how they travelled to Wales, and how, too, they saw Cheshire, Cornwall, Devon, and Somerset; we find them scampering off to the newly established Brighthelmstone, and to the more old-fashioned watering-places on the coast of Kent. It was at Margate that Rowlandson lost his most congenial associate, who having gone there, in the autumn of 1800, for the benefit of his health, did not live to return; the death of Henry Wigstead was a serious bereavement to the caricaturist, the earliest of those losses of his cherished associates which influenced his spirits considerably. [Illustration] We can also catch glimpses of Rowlandson on the Scarborough coast, and in Norfolk. Yarmouth seems to have been a favourite spot with him. We find him studying at seaports along the south coast; with Plymouth, Portsmouth, and Southampton he was thoroughly familiar. Of the Thames and the Medway, and the shipping to be encountered thereon in war-time, he has left sketches innumerable; he has visited the fishing spots on the former, and drawn the pretty towns which mark the valley of the river. With London, and its diversified spots of interest, from east to west, and north to south--the centre, and the outskirts alike--he had the most intimate acquaintance. We have already spoken of the drawings he made in the two University cities, and his series of views of the noble colleges. An Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing was written by the well-known antiquarian J. P. Malcolm, F.S.A., and published in 1813. This book, which might, had the author so willed, have supplied the curious with valuable hints, drawn from personal acquaintance, concerning professors of the art then living, is confined to the briefest recapitulation, as far as concerns contemporary works, the book being retrospective in principle; and it is difficult to discover any allusions of value to those Caricaturists lately deceased or who were still alive. Malcolm's appreciation of grotesque art was somewhat catholic, but he does not seem as familiar as might reasonably be supposed the case, with the masterpieces of the men who were flourishing in his time, or perhaps their _chefs d'oeuvre_ were then so generally familiar as to need no further recognition. The compiler of the Historical Sketch was evidently an amateur of humorous productions, and could describe the progress of grotesques, but he does not seem to have completely carried out the scheme of his treatise. We have borrowed a paragraph from this excellent antiquarian, as an instance of his criticisms on the subject of the present volume. '_Rowlandson's Views in Oxford and Cambridge_, 1810, deserve notice for the slight and pleasing manner with which he has characterised the architecture of the places mentioned; but it is impossible to surpass the originality of his figures; the dance of students and _filles de joie_ before Christ Church College is highly humorous, and the enraged tutors grin with anger peculiar to this artist's pencil. The professors, in the view of the Observatory at Oxford, are made as ugly as baboons, and yet the profundity of knowledge they possess is conspicuous at the first glance; and we should know them to be Masters of Arts without the aid of the background. The scene in Emanuel College Garden, Cambridge, exhibits the learned in a state of relaxation; several handsome lasses remove apples from a tree, and the indolent curiosity with which they are viewed by these sons of ease is very characteristic.' [Illustration] While considering Rowlandson in relation to his contemporaries, we have chiefly to deal with those gifted gentlemen who were, like himself, generally spoken of in their generation as _caricaturists_, and to whose works our artist was able, from his more considerable acquirements, to give a presentable form, and put into circulation through the medium of his proficiency with the etching-needle. Foremost among these we must speak of Henry Bunbury, so many of whose felicitous conceptions have derived additional force and popularity alike through the agency of our artist. In speaking of the caricaturist's treatment of these amateur works, we are glad to be able to offer our readers the respectable testimony of Thomas Wright in support of our own modest opinion, with which intention we quote a few paragraphs from our late friend's _History of Caricature and Grotesque in Literature and Art_. 'At various periods certain of Bunbury's designs were engraved by Rowlandson, who always transferred his own style to the drawings he copied. A remarkable instance of this is furnished by a print of a party of anglers of both sexes in a punt, entitled _Anglers of 1811_ (the year of Bunbury's death). But for the name, "H. Bunbury, del.," very distinctly inscribed upon it, we should take this to be a genuine design by Rowlandson; and in 1803 Rowlandson engraved some copies of Bunbury's prints on horsemanship for Ackermann, of the Strand, in which all traces of Bunbury's style are lost. 'There was much of Bunbury's style in that of Woodward, who had a taste for the same broad caricatures on society, which he executed in a similar spirit. Some of the _suites_ of subjects of this description that he published, such as the series of the _Symptoms of the Shop_, those of _Everybody out of Town_, and _Everybody in Town_, and the specimens of _Domestic Phrensy_, are extremely clever and amusing. Woodward's designs were also not unfrequently engraved by Rowlandson, who, as usual, imprinted his own style upon them. A very good example of this practice is seen in the print entitled _Desire_, in which the passion is exemplified in the case of a hungry school-boy, watching through a window a jolly cook carrying by a tempting plum pudding. We are told in an inscription underneath: "Various are the ways this passion might be depicted; in this delineation the subjects chosen are simple--a hungry boy and a plum pudding." The design of this print is stated to be Woodward's; but the style is altogether that of Rowlandson, whose name appears on it as the etcher. It was published by R. Ackermann on January 20, 1800.' [Illustration] In transferring the works of other caricaturists to the copper, Rowlandson was in the habit of giving his own style to them in such a degree that nobody would suspect they were not his own if the name of the designer were not attached to them. We cannot take leave of the Caricaturists without offering a few slight particulars concerning the respective careers of the most eminent and appreciated practitioners of the graphic art in its grotesque bearings. The fecundity of invention displayed in the works of Henry Bunbury entitles him to rank among the first in this class of designers. The happy faculty which he possessed of 'reading character at sight,' and the rare felicity with which he could embody whatever his observation or fancy suggested, with that scrambling style which was entirely his own, evince that he was born with a genius to make a figure in this pursuit. This gentleman may be instanced as a proof, too, that where there is an original faculty for any peculiar art, it will develop itself, though the possessor may be entirely unacquainted with the scientific principles of art. Nothing could be farther removed from legitimate art than the style exhibited in the drawings of Bunbury; yet no one has hit off the peculiarities of character, or expressed with less exaggeration those traits which constitute the burlesque. Bunbury, indeed, may be said to have steered his humorous course between sterling character and caricature. When he appears to outrage nature by representing distortion of figure or form, the fault is not intentional. Those who have not properly studied the drawing of the human figure, must occasionally, in spite of themselves, render their objects preternatural. It should be added, in honour to the memory of this gentleman, that he never used his pencil at the expense of personal feeling. His satire upon the French people was not individual, but national; and the characters which he introduced in his humorous designs at home, were characteristic of a class, but never the individuals of a species. [Illustration] Henry William Bunbury, the caricaturist, was born in 1750. He was educated at Westminster, whence he was removed to St. Catherine's Hall, Cambridge. On leaving the university he devoted himself, with some enthusiasm, to the fine arts. He was passionately fond of out-door sports, and, as in the instance of Leech in our own days, the saddle held out attractions superior even to the pleasure of exercising his fancy. His contemporaries were much given to deplore that he preferred the excitement of risking his neck in the hunting field to the cultivation of the profession his skill should have adorned. His taste and invention were admired not only by the most gifted and elevated persons of his time, but artists and critics alike lavished their encomiums on the favoured designer. Horace Walpole coveted the sketches which Bunbury exhibited on the walls of the Academy, while Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir Benjamin West combined to pay their finest compliments to the artist, and to publish abroad their flattering sense of his merits. Bunbury appears to have spent the greater part of his time on the estates belonging to his family, varied by trips to the Continent and visits to his patrons the Duke and Duchess of York, at Richmond and other residences, with occasional sojourns in Wales, the scenery of which had considerable attractions for his sense of the picturesque. He was a frequent guest of Sir W. W. Wynne, and his pencil has celebrated the theatrical gatherings at Wynnstay. We also meet him in town, surrounded by illustrious friends, and we find Goldsmith, Garrick, and other notabilities corresponding with the kindly and generous caricaturist during his sojourns at his country seat. Henry Bunbury was married, August 26, 1771, to Catherine, daughter of Kane William Horneck, Esq., lieutenant-colonel of the army of Sicily. This lady bore him two sons, and one of them, Sir Henry Bunbury, we believe, represented the county of Suffolk in Parliament, after the decease of his uncle Sir Thomas Charles Bunbury, who had previously enjoyed the distinction. Bunbury, the artist, was elected lieutenant-colonel of the West Suffolk regiment of militia. His manners were most popular, and it was remarked that he carried his cheerful and vivacious spirit into every society he frequented. He died at Keswick, in Cumberland, where he had settled towards the close of his life, and his sketches of the mountain scenery in his vicinity are said to have displayed the hand of a master, and to have gained universal appreciation for their effect and truthfulness. As a delineator of character, it is stated 'that his sketches approached nearest to Hogarth of any painter of his period, in the representation of life and manners; his pencil never transgresses the limits of good taste and delicacy, and had he been under the necessity of pursuing art for profit, instead of amusement and pleasure only, he would probably have made a great fortune by the produce of his genius, which the print-sellers have found a lucrative source of gain, engravings and etchings after his works having always been eagerly demanded.' The high estimation in which the caricaturist was personally held is confirmed by the obituary notice which appeared on his decease in the _Gentleman's Magazine_; the praise seems to be spontaneous, and its object, from all we can gather, richly merited the friendly testimony. 'May 7, 1811.--At Keswick, Henry William Bunbury, Esq., second son of the Rev. Sir William Bunbury, Bart., of Mildenhall, and of Great Barton, in the county of Suffolk, and brother to the present Sir Thomas Bunbury, Bart. He was distinguished at a very early age by a most extraordinary degree of taste and knowledge in the fine arts. The productions of his own pencil have, from his childhood, been the admiration and delight of the public. The exquisite humour of some of his drawings, and the grace and elegance of the rest, were unrivalled; and he is, perhaps, the only instance in which excellences of such various and almost opposite character have been united in the same subject in an equal degree. But though he possessed in this respect a peculiar genius, he neglected no branch of polite literature. He was a good classical scholar, and "endowed with the love of sacred song." The Muses were to him _dulces ante omnia_. He was an excellent judge of poetry; and the specimens remaining of his own composition put it beyond a doubt that he would have been as eminent with his pen as with his pencil, if his natural modesty, underrating his own powers, had not prevented him from pursuing it with more application. These accomplishments were conspicuous, and obtained for him universal esteem. His social and moral qualities, while any of those remain who shared his friendship, will continue the objects of fond admiration and regret. No ribaldry, no profaneness, no ill-natured censure, ever flowed from his lips, but his conversation abounded in humour and pleasantry; it was charming to persons of all descriptions. No one was ever in his company without being pleased with him; none ever knew him without loving him. His feelings were the most benevolent, his affections the most delicate, his heart the most sincere. He was void of all affectation, alive to praise, but not obtrusively courting it. Conscious, but not ostentatious of merit; of unblemished honour; full of that piety and liberal-handed charity which influences the heart, and seeks the witness, not of the world, but of his Maker.' The writer of the obituary notice expressed a conviction, confirmed, as he stated, by an intimacy of fifty years' standing:-- 'All who had,' concludes the memorial, 'the slightest acquaintance with him, will bear witness to the extraordinary tenderness of his disposition, to his kind and active friendship, to his universal benevolence, practically displayed through his entire career.' [Illustration] The name of Woodward occurs so frequently in caricatures to which _Rowlandson sculpsit_ is added, that our readers will probably not consider the following sketch of this eccentric gifted celebrity either out of place, or entirely superfluous. Recapitulating his recollections of humorous artists, Angelo informs us that--'The inventive genius of one burlesque designer was exhaustless--George Moutard Woodward, commonly designated by his merry associates, Mustard George. This original genius was the son of the steward of a certain wealthy landholder, and resided with his father in a provincial town, where _nothing_ was less known than _everything_ pertaining to the arts. He was, as his neighbours said, a "_nateral geni_;" for he drew all the comical _gaffers_ and _gammers_ of the country round; and having, to use his own words, "_taken off_ the bench of justices, wigs and all, _shown up_ the mayor and corporation, _dumb-foundered_ the parson of the parish, silenced the clerk, and made the sexton laugh at his own _grave_ occupation," he thought it expedient to beat up for new game in the metropolitan city. '"A caricaturist in a country town," said George, "like a mad bull in a china-shop, cannot step without noise; so, having made a little noise in my native place, I persuaded my father to let me seek my fortune in town." 'It appears that the caricaturist came not to London, like many another wit, pennyless; his father allowed him an annuity of first fifty, and augmented the sum to a hundred pounds. With this income, and what he obtained by working for the publishers, he was enabled to enjoy life in his own way; and might be _met_, with a tankard of Burton ale before him, seated behind his pipe, nightly at Offley's; or, if not there, smoking the fragrant weed, at the _Cider Cellar_, the _Blue Posts_, or _The Hole in the Wall_. Latterly, his rendezvous was transferred to _The Brown Bear_ at Bow Street, where he studied those peculiar species of low characters, the inhabitants of the round-house, and the myrmidons of the police. Enamoured with the society of these able physiognomists, he ultimately took up his quarters at the _Brown Bear_, and there, to the lively grief of these tenderhearted associates, one night died in character, suddenly, with a glass of brandy in his hand. [Illustration] 'The wit and invention of this artist places him above all others in the personification of low scenes of humour. Among his earliest productions were those series of groups entitled _Effects of Flattery_, _Effects of Hope, &c._, which were illustrated by scenes of truly dramatic excellence, and upon which might well be built farces for the stage which could not fail to delight the town. His _Babes in the Wood_, _Raffling for a Coffin_, _The Club of Quidnuncs_, as pieces of original humour, have never, perhaps, been equalled. Had this low humourist studied drawing and been temperate in his habits, such was the fecundity of his imagination and perception of character, that he might have rivalled even Hogarth. His style, always sufficiently careless, latterly even outraged the _outré_. Yet there were those, and men of taste too, who insisted that the humour of his pieces was augmented by the extravagance of this defect.' The name of Henry Wigstead will be met with pretty constantly in the course of this volume; his designs approach the nearest to those of Rowlandson as far as regards humorous qualities, a cultivated sense of beauty and grace, and a decided grasp of character, without that violent divergence from the semblance of humanity as ordinarily recognised, to which failing the old-fashioned caricaturists were somewhat over-addicted, as we are inclined to suspect; but, like many worthy amateurs of his period, his own hand lacked the skill to express all that his eye saw and his taste appreciated. In the guise of a skilled translator of crude ideas, our Caricaturist, with ready ease, and that dexterity which was peculiarly his own, came to the rescue most efficiently, and his etchings and scrapings have preserved many a capital design, due to the esteemed Wigstead, which otherwise would have been lost; the sterling excellence to be detected in many of these pictorial scenes and satires, renders the action meritorious, which has enabled posterity to judge how far those praises which partial contemporaries lavished upon all these non-professional humourists, were justified by the actual merits of their subjects. We have already recounted certain jocose and whimsical traits in the disposition and career of this genial son of merriment; we have nothing to add but the brief notice from the obituary of _The Gentleman's Magazine_ for October 1800, which informed many a congenial friend of the loss society had sustained, and made many a heart feel saddened by the stroke which had fallen on the kindliest and best of comrades. 'At Margate, where he went for the benefit of his health, Henry Wigstead, Esq., of Kensington, an active magistrate for the county of Middlesex.[14] He was a man of considerable talent, and contributed to the celebrity of the Brandenburgh theatre, both by his pen and his pencil. He was a good caricaturist, which naturally made him more enemies than friends. He was hospitable and generous to a degree of extravagance. He married the daughter of Mr. Bagnal, of Gerard Street, with whom he had a good fortune, and by whom he leaves two children, a son and a daughter.' Another eminent humourist, in whose praise contemporaries were enthusiastic, but whose biography no one has taken the pains to collect, was John Nixon, _the facetious Nixon_, as he is generally entitled in the memoirs and scribblings of the period; beyond the kindly appreciative anecdotes of this worthy, set down by Angelo, barely any record exists. Pleasant John Nixon was an Irish factor, and resided for many years in Basinghall Street, where, over his dark warehouses, he and his brother Richard kept 'bachelors' court.' The elder brother, John, however, was the principal mover in all the convivialities and Bacchanalian revels celebrated in this old-fashioned dwelling; 'which was not too large for comfort, and yet sufficiently spacious in the first floor, at least, to spread a table for twelve. Who that were witty, or highly talented of the days that are gone, who, loving a social gossip, over a _magnum bonum_ of capital wine, had not been invited to his hospitable board?' The Nixons were wealthy, and had the felicity to be well enabled to enjoy life according to their own liking. John Nixon, besides possessing a well-deserved reputation for social qualifications of no ordinary calibre, was a man of taste and talent, and an amateur performer in various arts, his accomplishments being multifarious. As a man of business he was highly respected, as a man of pleasure universally sought, and as generally esteemed. Sedulous in his commercial pursuits, in the counting-house his maxim was that there is time for all things, and he found leisure daily, when the ledger was closed, to open his heart to the enjoyments of friendly intercourse. 'I have no objection to placing my knees under another man's table,' the social _convive_ would say, 'but I had rather seat him at my own.' Nixon was at home at the Beef-steak Club, where he was made honorary secretary and providore, a well-bestowed distinction, since he was a first-rate connoisseur of wines, and a capital judge of a rump of beef. 'My lord duke,' he would say to the noble president, 'he who would invite Jupiter to a feast on a steak, should select a prime cut of little more than half-an-inch thick, from a Norfolk-fed Scot,' and this, says Angelo, became statute law in that glorious club. [Illustration] Among other pursuits for which Nixon obtained notoriety among the _haut ton_, he was known for his fondness for the stage. An excellent amateur performer, he shone as one of the stars of the celebrated private theatricals held at Brandenburgh House, when in the possession of the Margrave and Margravine of Anspach. It was under the splendid roof of these entertainers, on an occasion when all the amateurs were celebrating their host's anniversary, that Nixon was honoured with his cognomen of 'the well-bred man.' On his late arrival in a piebald uniform, his blue dress-coat, with the gold buttons of the Beef-steak Club, being considerably powdered, the wearer, who was not in the least disconcerted or embarrassed, related, on taking his seat at the table, a droll tale of adventures on the road, to the hearty amusement of the company, while the servants were in convulsions of laughter, as Nixon described how the post-horses were knocked up, and he was obliged to complete his journey and his engagement in the cart of a baker, where he got completely dusted with flour; whence the Margravine facetiously dubbed him the 'well-bread man.' John Nixon's original talent for the humorous department of the graphic art was well known; as an honorary exhibitor at the Royal Academy for many years, his grotesque scenes such as _Bartholomew Fair_, and village fêtes, abounding with character, diverted the public. Angelo, in recording the comical celebrity of his friend, mentions, 'Nixon had the reputation of introducing, through his inventive faculty, that most amusing species of caricature, the converting spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds into grotesque figures and groups, which he designed with a whimsicality of appropriateness, that Gillray, or even George Cruikshank himself, might have envied.' The list of amateur artists, who enjoyed Rowlandson's friendship, and whose designs received the advantages which his assistance was able to lend them, will not be complete without the name of Collings, well known in the regions of Covent Garden, and some time editor of the _Public Ledger_, who was a lively satirist, both with his pencil and his pen. 'When Boswell's _Tour to the Hebrides_ was ushered forth, it was celebrated by as many crackers and squibs as the _Burning of the Boot_ (Lord Bute). Among other assailants, the impenetrable Bozzy had to expose his front to this lampooner's shafts. A whole series of designs were published by this witty wag, the heroes of which, or rather the knight and the esquire of his drama, were Johnson and Boswell. The knight, it is likely, never saw them; and, as for the squire, his love of notoriety rendered him, if not vain of, at least not vulnerable to, these successive attacks.[15] 'The Laird of Auchinlek, indeed, had a large collection of these satires upon "self and company," as he used facetiously to inscribe them, and boasted at the judge's table that his _History_ would be more copiously illustrated than even the Lord High Chancellor, Clarendon's.' Caleb Whiteford, another crony of the caricaturist, was an excellent judge of paintings (especially works by the old masters) and was generally known as a fervent admirer of George Moreland's pictures; he was the reputed discoverer of 'cross readings,'[16] and a dabbler in verse. It was he who, as everyone will remember, received such a complimentary notice in the postscript to the mock epitaphs known as Goldsmith's _Retaliation_, that there were not wanting those who contributed to the flattery by suspecting that the additional epitaph was due to Caleb's own pen. Old Caleb Whiteford, the witty wine-merchant and 'connoisseur in old masters,' knew everyone of any reputation, and was well-received at the various hospitable boards to which allusions have been made in the course of these discursive notes; he was a welcome guest at numerous convivial gatherings of the artistic and literary coteries of the period, whose jovial meetings and good cheer have been suffered to pass into oblivion, unrecorded by the scribes who shared 'the cakes and ale,' in the palmy days of sociable festivities and kindly familiar intercourse. 'Mr. Ephraim Hardcastle, citizen and drysalter,' as he whimsically elected to style himself--in sober fact, W. H. Pyne, the artist to whose literary ventures we have already referred--has on occasions come to the rescue in his _Wine and Walnuts, or after-dinner Chit-Chat_. Here is the report of a conversation concerning Rowlandson, which is supposed to have taken place between Whiteford and the caricaturist's jolly friend Mitchell, culled from the _Chit-Chat_ in question, which was published in 1823. 'Well, Master Caleb Whiteford[17] was on his way up the hill in the Adelphi to his post at the Society of Arts, and who should he stumble upon at the corner of James Street, just turning round from Rowlandson's, but Master Mitchell, the quondam banker of old Hodsoll's house. He had, as usual, been foraging among the multitudinous sketches of that original artist, and held a portfolio under his arm, and as he was preparing to step into his chariot, Caleb accosted him: "Well, worthy sir; what! more choice bits--more graphic whimsies to add to the collection at Enfield, eh? Well, how fares it with our friend Roly?" (a familiar term by which the artist was known to his ancient cronies). [Illustration] '"Why, yes, Master Caleb Whiteford, I go collecting on, though I begin to think I have enough already, for I have some hundreds of his spirited works; but somehow there is a sort of fascination in these matters, and--heigh--ha--ho--hoo!" (gaping) "I never go up--up--bless the man, why will he live so high? It kills me to climb his stairs"--holding his ponderous sides--"I never go up, Mister Caleb, but I find something new, and am tempted to pull my purse-strings. His invention, his humour, his--his oddity is exhaustless." "Yes," said Whiteford, "Master Roly is never at a loss for a subject, and I should not be surprised if he is taking a bird's-eye view of you and me at this moment, and marking us down for game. But it is not his drawings alone; why, he says he has etched as much copper as would sheathe a first-rate man-of-war; and I should think he is not far from the mark in his assertion.' '"Yes," replied the banker, "he ought to be rich, for his genius is certainly the most exhaustless, the most--the most--no, Mister Caleb, there is no end to him; he manufactures his humorous ware with such increasing vigour, that I know not what to compare his prolific fancy to, unless it be to the increasing population.... '"Roly has promised to come down. I would have taken the rogue with me, only that he is about some new scheme for his old friend Ackermann, there, and he says he must complete it within an hour. You know Roly's expedition."' James Heath, also a caricaturist, and a delineator of sporting sketches, was another of Rowlandson's intimates; a Good-Friday jaunt, or an Easter excursion, was for many years indulged by these worthies, who with genial Bannister, the comedian, and their faithful chronicler, Henry Angelo, the fencing-master, annually kept up the practice of proceeding on a jovial expedition at this season, some distance from town, Staines, Windsor, or some similar starting-point, being the rendezvous selected by these congenial spirits. The list of Rowlandson's friends would be incomplete without the name of George Moreland, who, with all his eccentricities and shortcomings, was another favoured child of fortune, whose inheritance was natural genius; and though the fairy gift was turned to the very worst account, dragged through the mire of dissipation, and sordidly made to supply the means of that social degradation, which lowered the possessor beneath his worst associates, the power remained in the poor shattered wreck, and did not forsake him until, in a state of premature decay, he perished miserably before his easel. A sketch of Moreland's career is by no means called for in this place. His erratic disposition was not without its whimsical traits; sufficient anecdotes exist of the wayward painter to prove that, beyond his happy qualifications for his art, there was found in his composition a spice of pleasantry that did not always degenerate into buffoonery or horse-play, with occasional flashes of wit and sprightly allusions which, to say the least of them, were remarkably apposite. Perhaps too much stress has been laid upon Moreland's deficiencies, while his more agreeable traits have been somewhat slighted. Putting aside the numerous anecdotal sketches of the painter, we have only to record, in this place at least, that a friendship existed between the subject of this volume and the man to whose sketches those of our caricaturist frequently offer a suggestive resemblance, it being actually difficult to distinguish between the unsigned etchings and drawings of the two artists, in the walk practised by Moreland. The similarity of their talent is more evident perhaps in the larger hunting scenes, and the studies of female heads, tinted in colours, than in any other direction; although, with the pencil or the chalk, their rustic landscapes, from the freedom of their respective handlings, are remarkably alike, both in the choice of subjects and the spirit of the execution. As we have already noticed, the most characteristic portrait of Moreland, and the one which appears to offer us the most life-like representation of the capricious painter, is due to the skill of Rowlandson. We are informed, in a note which we gather from Angelo, that Moreland, in his various flittings round the metropolis in dread of creditors, when he took sanctuary with any intimate whose residence he happened to remember, gave his colleague the caricaturist the opportunity of exhibiting his friendship by harbouring him in his lodgings under one of these emergencies, which were of tolerably frequent occurrence. 'Rowlandson, the artist, lodged at Mrs. Lay's printshop, a few doors from Carlton House, Pall Mall. One morning when I called upon him, we heard a loud knock at the street door, and looking out of the window, he said, "There's Colonel Thornton----knock again! He may be at this fun three months longer; he is come for his picture, but Moreland, having touched fifty pounds in advance, is never at home to him now. He's in the next room, which he has for painting. You had better go and do the same with him, and drink gin and water; he'll like your company, and make you a drawing for nothing." This was in the middle of the day.' We are inclined to think that the most memorable of the caricaturist's associates was James Gillray, whose age was within a year of that of Rowlandson; it is a coincidence that two unrivalled geniuses, and in such eccentric walks, should have been both contemporaries, and steady-going friends, never clashing in the course of their respective careers. In this work various allusions will be noticed to the intimacy which subsisted between these remarkably gifted men, each perfectly original in his fashion, and both possessing singular points of resemblance in their characters. [Illustration] We content ourselves with mentioning that they occasionally entered into friendly alliances, but that, when pitted against each other, they had more regard for friendship than for party warfare, which they utterly despised, except as an opening for the exercise of their skill. Gillray and Rowlandson were, perhaps, never properly appreciated in their generation, the higher capacities which distinguished both these spoiled pets and wilful sons of Momus, were comparatively slighted, if not completely ignored; all that was vulgar, wayward, and wild in their dispositions was fostered and enlarged upon; their errors, and their occasional lapses into downright coarseness, were, according to the lights of the day, flattered and encouraged as flights of the raciest humour; the crude, careless, and commonplace, received too frequently a hearty and undeserved recognition, which their ambitious efforts failed to inspire; the very productions they scorned were exalted, while, when they felt the magic fire warming their imaginations, the results were misunderstood too commonly. Their keen intellects, and their satiric sense of the almost constant unfitness of things as they found them, the gnawing of the vanity of vanities, ever present, must have made their temperaments peculiarly sensitive to such slights as the want of discrimination in their admirers which occasionally shocked and continually disheartened them--evils which the want of culture, or consideration on the part of their audience, continually brought in their train. It is no matter of surprise that the enchantments which they saw before them at the opening of their careers, vanished all too soon, and left them chilled, and inclined to become misanthropes; the very genius, which promised to be a delight to themselves and to mankind, proving a bitter curse. When the satirists, who felt alike and were sympathetic on most points, met, it seems their intercourse was the reverse of boisterous--in fact, they were rather inclined to be depressed, or, at least, they shrunk within themselves with a more marked contrast to the conduct which should, it was supposed, distinguish notorious pictorial humourists, and became, perhaps, a trifle more retired and undemonstrative than ordinary--possibly to the disappointment of the less-informed _habitués_, who evidently thought they were defrauded of a diversion, and had a right to anticipate, these gentlemen being in a sort graphic jesters by profession, that in private life they would feel themselves impelled to play off a little whimsical jugglery for the entertainment of the company. These professional tricks belonged to the lesser lights, and we warrant that Woodward, Collings, Newton, and the smaller following of the eccentric art, were infinitely more amusing to the taste of their auditors. It is certain Gillray was grave and self-contained, and Rowlandson, in his degree, participated in his friend's humour, slightly at first, perhaps, as a passing depression, and, later in life, with an intensified and growing grimness, and a gathering gloom, as friends dropped off, and age crept on, and the caricaturist's world was materially altered for him, as his work seemed over. 'For years Gillray occasionally smoked his pipe at _The Bell_, _The Coal-Hole_, or _The Coach and Horses_; and, although the _convives_, whom he met at such dingy rendezvous, knew that he was that Gillray who fabricated those comical cuts, the very moral of Farmer George and Boneyparty, of Billy Pitt and Black Charley, he never sought, like that low coxcomb Moreland, to become king of the company. He neither exacted, nor were they inclined to pay him, any particular homage. In truth, with his associates, neighbouring shopkeepers and master manufacturers, he passed for no greater wit than his neighbours. Rowlandson, his ingenious compeer, and he, sometimes met. They would, perhaps, exchange half-a-dozen questions and answers upon the affairs of copper and aquafortis; swear all the world was one vast masquerade, and then enter into the common chat of the room, smoke their cigars, drink their punch, and sometimes early, sometimes late, shake hands at the door, look up at the stars, say "It is a frosty night," and depart, one for the Adelphi, the other to St. James's Street, each to his bachelor's bed.'[18] Our friend Angelo, a bright chirpy spirit, who retained his liveliness unimpaired, let us hope, to the last of his long days, not having any pretensions to be a genius, was exempt from the sinister tendencies which too frequently attend its possession. Although, as he confesses in his _Memoirs_, not precisely the 'rose' himself, he had lived near it, and his association with men of an admittedly high type, as far as gifts of fancy and versatile talents were concerned, had taught him to observe the drawbacks not unusually allied to distinguishing attainments; and he records a few sober axioms for the enlightenment of those who have been excluded from his privileges. 'Those who at a distance contemplate characters like these, so professedly eminent for invention, wit, and satirical humour, naturally suppose their society must be universally sought; and that such must, of necessity, be the life and soul of the convivial board. Men, however, who see much and speculate but little, know better. Among the dullest in company could be pointed out those who are "wondrous witty" by themselves; and this not from pride of their superior faculty to please, but from a constitutional shyness or modest desire to avoid notice or applause--or from indolence, or actually from conscious dulness when absent from the study and the desk, when without the pencil and the pen. 'Peter Pindar was witless, even over his bottle, with his most intimate cronies. Anthony Pasquin was sour, and not prone to converse. Churchill was a sulky sot. Butler was lively neither drunk nor sober--a choice companion only when "half gone;" hence, as the witty Duke of Buckingham observed, "he was to be compared to a skittle, little at both ends, but great in the middle!" Burton, who had no less humour than Cervantes, and the learning of a whole university to boot, was neither a cheerful companion, nor endurable to himself. A hundred more could be named, whose aptitude and promptness to discover the ridiculous side of human action, has astonished the grave; and yet, these men who have thus exposed folly to the laughter of mankind, have been themselves the dullest dogs alive. Gillray was always "hipped," and at last sunk into that deplorable state of mental aberration which verifies the couplet, so often quoted, wherein the consanguinity of wit to madness is so eminently proved, to the comfort of those who thank God for their own stupidity.' Perhaps the most constant friend, and certainly the best adviser, our caricaturist retained to the grave was his principal publisher, Mr. Rudolph Ackermann. We have mentioned this gentleman last among the personal associates of Rowlandson, as his untiring services only ended with the life of the artist. The name of Rudolph Ackermann, who died March 30, 1834, is worthy of more than a passing mention; he has been cited as one of the first natives of Germany who, by far-sighted and active occupation, accompanied by philanthropic exertions for the benefit of his fellow-creatures, raised the character of his nationality to a high point of esteem in other countries. An account of his energetic and charitable career appeared in the _Didaskalia_, Frankfurt-am-Main, No. 103, April 13, 1864, and was adopted by the writer (W. P.) of an excellent notice upon the well-known publisher, in the pages of _Notes and Queries_, (4th S. iv., August 7 and 14, 1869). The son of a coach-builder, Rudolph Ackermann was born April 20, 1764, at Stolberg, in the Saxon Hartz. We are told 'his sympathies with the misfortunes of others were so warmly excited by the misery seen around him in the famine of 1772-73, that he frequently in later years excused the zeal which he showed on other occasions, by pictures of the distress that he experienced when he, at the age of eight years, was employed for hours daily in distributing food and money.' In 1775 his father removed to Schneeberg. Rudolph received his education in the local school till he was fifteen years old, and showed a decided predilection for literary pursuits; but his father's pecuniary position precluding the choice of a profession to more than one of his sons, he entered the paternal factory. An elder brother, Frederick, instructed Rudolph in the use of the drawing instruments, and he busied himself more willingly in the offices than in the workshops, gaining an acquaintance with details, which proved subsequently as important to his advancement as were his visits to Dresden, the towns of the Rhine, and Hueningen near Basle. He afterwards went to reside in Paris, where he became the friend of Carrossi, the most esteemed designer of equipages of his time, and Rudolph, who proved his best pupil, acquired sufficient knowledge as a practical draughtsman to push his way in the world. From Paris he proceeded to London in pursuit of fortune, and to turn his talents to account: he was delighted to find that, in the metropolis, carriage-building was one of the most successful occupations, and that the exercise of his acquirements would be handsomely rewarded; so for several years, until 1795, he was employed in furnishing the principal coachmakers with designs and models for new and improved carriages. The models of the state coach, built at the cost of nearly 7,000_l._, for the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1790,[19] and that for the Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1791, exhibited his taste and skill. In 1805, the preparation of the car that served as a hearse at the funeral of Lord Nelson was entrusted to him; and during the years 1818-20 the patent for a moveable axle for carriages engaged much of his attention. It is not, however, in this connection that we have to consider Ackermann, but rather in his relation to the arts as a print-seller and publisher. On his marriage with an English lady, with commendable prudence, he became desirous of establishing a business which would, in case of his own premature decease, prove a suitable provision for his family. He commenced the print trade at 96 Strand, and soon after he secured a large apartment, 65 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 24 feet high, at 101 Strand (erected upon the courtyard of Beaufort House), which had been the drawing academy of William Shipley; it had then passed to Henry Pars, and later passed into the hands of the Radicals, and became notorious as the British Forum, when it was used by John Thelwall for his oratorical lectures. These meetings exceeding the bounds of reasonable political discussion, the Government instituted prosecutions, and the Forum ceased to exist. On the ministerial interference, October 1794, Mr. Ackermann was enabled to secure the lease of the premises, and the room was again used as a school for drawing. In 1796 the entire business was removed to 101 Strand. The drawing academy seems to have flourished; and in 1806 there were three masters engaged for figures, landscape, and architecture, and some eighty pupils were resorting to the school, when the requirements of the founder's business, as a publisher, printseller, and dealer in fancy articles, papers, medallions, and artist's materials, had so increased, that the convenience of this room as a warehouse became of more consideration than the continuance of the school. During the revolutionary era, and when French emigrants were numerous in this country, Mr. Ackermann was one of the first to find a liberal employment for the refugees; it is said that he had seldom less than fifty nobles, priests, and ladies engaged upon screens, card-racks, flower-stands, and other ornamental work. His inventive faculties and his disposition to take up with new ideas were marked by many improvements he introduced. At the beginning of the century he was one of the first who arrived at a method of waterproofing paper, leather, woollen stuffs, and felted fabrics, in which he obtained for some time considerable traffic; this branch was conducted in a factory he established at Chelsea for the purpose. He further contrived an apparatus which was at least ingenious, both in theory and intention. To counteract Napoleon's endeavours, by bridling the newspapers, to keep the French nation in complete ignorance, as was actually the case, of events that were disastrous to him, Mr. Ackermann bethought himself of reviving, for the annoyance of the enemy, the use made by the French in 1794-96 of aërostation in _L'Entreprenant_ and the _Télémaque_; and he contrived a simple mechanism which would, every minute, detach thirty printed placards from a packet of three thousand. Three such parcels were attached to balloons thirty-six inches in diameter, made of gold-beater's skin, and committed to the air in the summer of 1807. The success of the experiment was proved at Woolwich in the presence of a Government commission. With a southerly wind the balloons passed over Salisbury and Exeter, and several of the placards, as a proof of the practical working of the machinery, were returned to London from various parts of the country. Mr. Ackermann was one of the first inhabitants of London who adopted the use of gas as a means of artificial light to his premises. The establishment of lithography in England was another example of his patient and persevering expenditure of money and time in the introduction and improvement of a novelty. 'He was not content with translating Alois Senefelder's treatise in 1819, but made a journey to the residence of that inventor, in order to exchange the results of their theory and practice before producing in 1822 a _Complete Course_. The business relations between leading artists and Mr. Ackermann enabled him to induce them to touch the lithographic chalk; so in 1817, through Prout and others, the process became an acceptable, or rather a fashionable mode of multiplying drawings; lithography, for want of such advantages, when introduced into this country by Mr. Andréc, of Offenbach, in its original and rude state, had failed to make its way, and all its subsequent success may be attributed to Mr. Ackermann's personal emulation of the advancement it made in Munich.' In 1813, upon receiving an authentic account from Count Schönfeld of the misery produced in Germany by Napoleon's wars, particularly in Saxony, culminating in engagements at Leipzig (during the 'five days' October 15-19, 1813), 'Mr. Ackermann temporarily abandoned the oversight of his own multifarious occupations, in order to exert all his strength in procuring aid for the sufferers. With the help of the Duke of Sussex, he formed a committee in Westminster and in the City; the first obtained a Parliamentary grant of 100,000_l._, and the second furnished a larger sum in private contributions. This was the occasion on which the use of Whitehall Chapel was granted for a musical performance in aid of the subscription. For two years, Mr. Ackermann undertook the task of corresponding with the German committees for distributing these sums, examining into the urgency of the appeals for help, and apportioning the fund. The members of "The Westminster Association for the further relief of the sufferers by the war in Germany," were anxious to commemorate their sense of the pains, prudence, and probity Mr. Ackermann had displayed, by presenting him with a testimonial in silver; this costly acknowledgment, together with a vote of thanks proposed to be inscribed on parchment in gold, he had the modesty to decline, begging that all thanks for his services might be comprised in a few autograph lines from the Archbishop of Canterbury.' In his business relations we are told, 'the discretion which he exercised in choosing his subordinates, and the liberal manner in which he repaid their services, enabled him to produce several books which deserve the notice of all those who know how to appreciate the merit of these illustrated works in colour, relatively to others of similar pretension, both of that time and of the present day. 'A long list might be formed by enumerating the literary, musical, and scientific men of more or less eminence, who appeared as his coadjutors, and who enjoyed his intimacy. Several of them owed to him a helping hand, either in their first efforts or in their declining fortunes. To the end of his days he retained a strongly-marked German pronunciation of the English language, which gave additional flavour to the banters and jests uttered in his fine bass voice; but he wrote in English with great purity on matters of affection and business long before middle life. 'From early in 1813, every Wednesday evening in March and April was given to a reception, half a conversazione and half a family party, in his large room, which then, as at other times, served as an exhibition of English and foreign books, maps, prints, woodcuts, lithographs, drawings, paintings, and other works of art and ornament, besides the leading Continental periodicals. There on those evenings, by annual invitation,[20] amateurs, artists, and authors were sure to find people whom they knew, or wanted to know. Many an introduction grew to an acquaintance; and the value of such evenings to foreigners was often gratefully acknowledged by travellers, who, with any distinction in art or literature, were welcome without any other introduction. 'His active assiduity and his spirited enterprise were suspended by a weakness of sight, commencing from his charitable exertions in 1814, which made his repose at Camberwell, and afterwards at Ivy Lodge in the Fulham Road, first a matter of prudence, and later on of necessity. In the spring of 1830 he experienced an attack of paralysis, and never recovered sufficiently to exert his intelligence in business. He removed for a change of air to Finchley, but a second stroke produced a gradual decline of strength in the honourable old man; and March 30, 1834, saw an end put to the hearty kindness, constant hospitality, and warm beneficence which had been inseparable from his unquestioned integrity. He was interred on April 9 in the family grave, in the burial-ground of St. Clement Danes.'[21] * * * * * The little that remains to be recorded of the Caricaturist is best expressed by the kindly writer, a friend of nearly half a century's standing, who contributed an obituary notice of the artist to the _Gentleman's Magazine_ (June 1827). It is not generally known that, although a considerable proportion of Rowlandson's humorous political and social etchings are in many instances strongly tinctured by an absence of refinement in taste, and are roughly executed--the means simply of tiding over some pressing necessity, or providing funds for further relaxations--his early works were characterised by painstaking and conscientious application; and his studies from the human figure at the Royal Academy were scarcely inferior to the productions of Mortimer, then the most admired and proficient among the Academic professors. From the versatility of his talent, the fecundity of his imagination, his command of composition, in which he equalled the greatest masters, the grace and elegance with which he could design his groups, added to the almost miraculous despatch with which he supplied his patrons with perfectly original compositions upon every subject, it was a theme of regret at his decease, that he had not sufficiently valued his reputation, to which it has been suspected he was thoroughly indifferent. It was universally admitted in his own days that, had he pursued the course of art steadily, he might have become one of the foremost and most celebrated historical painters of the English school. His style, which was purely his own, was unquestionably original. His bold, fluent, and spiritedly turned outlines were thrown off with easy dexterity, with his famous reed-pen, in a tint composed of vermilion and Indian-ink, the general effect was rapidly washed in, so as to produce an effective _chiaro-oscuro_, and the whole was coloured in tender tints with a most harmonious arrangement of colour. His manner, though slight in almost every instance, is highly effective; and it is known on indubitable authority that the presidents of the Royal Academy, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir Benjamin West, whose manners were most foreign to those of the Caricaturist, individually asserted their conviction that many of his drawings would have done honour to Rubens, or to the most esteemed masters of design of the old schools. For many years he was too indolent to seek new employment, and his kind friend, and it may be added with justice, his best adviser, Mr. Ackermann, the respected and leading publisher of Rowlandson's period, supplied him with ample subjects for the exercise of his talent. The many works which his pencil illustrated are existing evidence of this, and books containing impressions from Rowlandson's etchings continue to fetch high prices, and are industriously sought after. Many suggestions for plates to enliven new editions of _The Travels of Dr. Syntax_, _The Dance of Death_, _The Dance of Life_, and other well-known productions of the pen of the prolific Coombe, the Defoe of the eighteenth century, will remain esteemed and lasting mementoes of his graphic humour. It should be repeated that his reputation had never reached its full maturity in the life-time of Mr. Ackermann, his friend, patron, and publisher. The inimitable water-colour drawings of Rowlandson, of which he had a large collection, were justly appreciated by connoisseurs, and his folios have often been viewed with admiration and delight by the many professional artists and amateurs who frequented Mr. Ackermann's conversazioni at his library at the old house in the Strand. No artist of the past or present school, perhaps, ever expressed so much as Rowlandson, with so little effort, or with so evident an appearance of the absence of labour. The artist's remains were followed to the grave by the two friends of his youth, John Bannister and Henry Angelo, and his constant friend and liberal employer, Rudolph Ackermann. FOOTNOTES: [1] The preparation of _The Works of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with a Story of his Life and Times_ (376 pp. quarto), was in itself no bagatelle; and three working years of steady application were invested in its pages and illustrations. [2] The Editor, among other special subjects, of a descriptive catalogue of the works of George Cruikshank. 3 volumes quarto. Published by Messrs. Bell and Sons, 1871. (Only 130 copies printed.) [3] _Vauxhall Gardens_ (503), _An Italian Family_ (462), _The Serpentine River_ (511); _vide_ Catalogue of the Royal Academy (1784), Fourteenth Exhibition. [4] In the early Exhibition Catalogues, studies in water-colours, where the primitive sepia or Indian ink was supplemented by other tints, are described as STAINED DRAWINGS. [5] The artist's name frequently occurs upon his plates as his own publisher, and, as might be anticipated, the prints produced under this sponsorship are invariably of his most popular description. [6] The original sketches of this series were recently bequeathed to the South Kensington Museum, where they are attributed to Bunbury: a contemporary advertisement (1786) announces the designs to the forthcoming _Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides_ to be furnished by Collings and Rowlandson. [7] A somewhat different version of the origin of this caricature is given in the _Memoirs of John Bannister, Comedian_, by John Adolphus (8vo., 1839): 'His friend and fellow-student Rowlandson was, unhappily, much addicted to games of chance, and Bannister used to remonstrate with him on the subject with amiable but ineffectual perseverance. On one of these occasions John Raffaelle Smith, the engraver, admonished Bannister on the inutility of his efforts. "You may spare your sympathy and advice also," he said; "for that Tom Rowlandson was, is, and ever will be incurable." The artist, in merry revenge, brought out a print called _Hawks and a Pigeon_, in which Smith, endowed for the occasion with a most villanous aspect, the very personation of a sharper and a knave, exhibited conspicuously. 'By way of reprisal, Smith produced a well-known and popular engraving, in which Rowlandson and some others are represented as confederates in fleecing an innocent. Bannister lent his aid in forming the group, and, putting on for the occasion a face from which all appearance of sense was effectually banished, sat for the young dupe. Parsons on seeing the production said: "Why, Jack! you are the last of your fraternity that I should have selected for the model of a flat. Why, when you were a little Cupid in the green-room, Kitty Clive, who was not apt to mince matters, used to say you looked as innocent as a little sucking devil."' [8] This was written in 1830. [9] A correspondent to _Notes and Queries_, who signs S. R. (4th Series, IV., September 11, 1869, p. 224), while alluding to this drawing, also mentions having seen a portrait of George III. by Rowlandson, which possessed great art merit; and adds: 'I possess early drawings by him, executed with a fine quill pen, and most tenderly tinted, which are highly refined in style, excellent in drawing, and in elegance and grace may be classed with the productions of Stothard.' [10] According to the Royal Academy Catalogue, Rowlandson removed from 133 Wardour Street to 50 Poland Street, Pantheon, between 1786 and 1787. [11] The drawing of the four ruffians is now, we understand, in the possession of Mr. William Bates, B.A., &c., and forms one of an interesting collection of caricatures by Rowlandson held by that admirer of his works. _See Account of Original Drawings in the Appendix._ [12] The main characteristics of this subject belong to _Careless Attention_, 1789: a dashing son of Mars taking the place of the black flunkey. [13] Mr. Henry G. Bohn, the well-known publisher, informed the writer that at one period he had a collection of drawings by Rowlandson, chiefly fine Continental views, such as the Series in Holland and Flanders, made for the artist's patron Mitchell the banker, numbering nearly a hundred. [14] Sitting magistrate at Bow Street. [15] See Boswell (the Elder). _Twenty Caricatures by Collings and Rowlandson in Illustration of Boswell's 'Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides, 1786._' [16] These cross-readings obtained such celebrity that the inventor was tempted to distribute amongst his friends specimens, which 'he had been at the expense of printing upon small single sheets.' We quote a couple of examples from a slip, which was in the possession of J. T. (_Antiquity_) Smith's family, and, being considered something of a curiosity, is given in the pages of _Nollekens and his Times_. Sunday night many noble families were alarmed-- By the constable of the watch, who apprehended them at cards. Wanted, to take care of an elderly gentlewoman-- An active young man, just come from the country. [17] Caleb Whiteford was Vice-President of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. [18] _Somerset House Gazette and Literary Museum_, No. 26. By Ephraim Hardcastle (W. H. Pyne). 1824. [19] The reader may observe a similar chariot in the Museum at South Kensington; it might readily be mistaken for the one referred to above, and is of the most elaborate character. It is described as 'built for the Lord Chancellor of Ireland (1780), the panels painted by W. Hamilton, R.A.' [20] According to Mr. Jerdan, the first _missive printed on stone_ (drawings having been printed by this process some while before), was an invitation to one of Ackermann's conversaziones: 'Mr. Ackermann has the honour to inclose a card of invitation to a Literary Meeting at his Library, on Tuesday, the 20th February, at seven o'clock in the evening; and on the same evening in each week, until the 10th day of April inclusive. [21] _Notes and Queries_, August 1869. See article signed W. P. 1774, 1780-81. _June 8, 1774._ _A Rotation Office._--A chief magistrate is seated at a table, and three justices, with their hats on, and sticks in their hands, are seated beside him. To the left of the chief is the justice's clerk; and behind the bench is a placard, 'Robbery and Murder. Reward of Justice.' [Illustration: THE VILLAGE DOCTOR.] _June 8, 1774._ _The Village Doctor._ Published by H. Humphrey, Bond Street.--This print appears to have been about the earliest recognised specimen of Rowlandson's handiwork. The plate has a wash of aquatint, all over it, and the etching is free and bold. As an early work it evinces certain carefulness and discrimination, which promised well for the artist's future if he persevered in the same direction. The suggestion of the subject, according to the initials, is due to Henry Wigstead, whose name appears on numerous fine examples of Rowlandson's skill. The village practitioner, outside whose cottage is the sign of a gilt pestle, has evidently been disturbed under false pretences on previous occasions, and now a real client has knocked him up, for the benefit of his professional services, his indignation is bursting forth on the wrong object. _1780. Scene at Streatham. Bozzy and Piozzi._ BOZZY. Who, mad'ning with an anecdotic itch, Hath said that Johnson called his mother, witch? MADAME PIOZZI. Who, from Macdonald's rage to save his snout, Cut twenty lines of defamation out? The scene of this animated dispute is the Library at the house lately inhabited by the departed Thrale. Mrs. Piozzi (late Mrs. Thrale) and Boswell are in high dudgeon over their respective memoirs of their idol, the defunct Doctor Johnson. In both of their 'Lives' the trifling weaknesses of the great Lexicographer are made ridiculous, under the misguiding impulse of the 'anecdotic itch.' The rival biographers are bouncing and stamping about the study, in a fine rage, ready to pull one another to pieces. The learned lady's second husband, the stout musician, Piozzi, with his violoncello by his side, is seated in an easy chair, regarding the disputants with consternation, while deprecating violence. Peter Pindar's lines on the subject are appended to the plate; an additional couplet or two are worth borrowing:-- BOZZY. How could your folly tell, so void of truth, That miserable story of the youth Who, in your book, of Dr. Johnson begs, Most seriously, to know if _cats laid eggs_? MADAME PIOZZI. _Who_ told of Mrs. Montague the lie-- So palpable a falsehood? Bozzy, fy! * * * * * BOZZY. _Who_ would have said a word about Sam's wig; Or told the story of the _peas_ and _pig_? MADAME PIOZZI. _Now_ for a _saint_ upon us you would palm him; First _murder_ the poor man, and then _embalm him_! BOZZY. His character so shockingly you handle-- You've sunk your _comet_ to a _farthing candle_. _March 1780._ _Special Pleading._ Published by A. McKenzie, 101 Berwick Street, Soho. Lovely Nymph, assuage my anguish, At your feet behold a swain, Begs you will not let him languish; One kind word will ease his pain. A stout knight (possibly a lineal descendant of Sir John Falstaff) is the _Pleader_; he is lounging on an elegant sofa of the early Georgian period, making inane love to a pretty girl placed by his side, dressed in a picturesque Watteau-like costume, with a quilted petticoat and a quaint mob-cap added; the amorous old trifler's hand is on the slim waist of the beauty; the damsel is standing up in a negligently easy pose, while she is toying with her antiquated admirer and waving his enormous and elaborately curled double-tailed wig in the air. A dog is at her side. The drawing of this picture is unusually graceful and easy, even for Rowlandson; this is most noticeable in respect to the pretty coquette. The etching is spirited and brilliant, and the background and accessories are delicately aquatinted, to bear out the resemblance to a sketch in Indian ink. _July 18, 1780._ _The School of Eloquence._--The interior of a fashionable debating society of the period; the members are the quality of both sexes. The design was doubtless admirably worked out in the original drawing; but it has suffered at the hands of an unknown etcher. Published by Archibald Robertson, Savile Passage. _September 1, 1780._ _Italian Affectation._ _Pacchierolti._--The figures of two distinguished foreigners, as imported into this country over a century ago, for the delectation of the _cognoscendi_ and the leaders of high taste. A pair of overdressed Italian artists, extravagantly posturing to one another in some operatic _scena_. A spindle-shanked signor, hat in hand, is pouring out his ardour to an affected and modish _prima donna_ in a love-making situation, outrageously burlesqued. _September 18, 1780._ _Sir Samuel House._--The full-length portrait of 'Honest Sam House,' famous in his day for his zeal and patriotism, the enthusiastic supporter of Fox, a character familiar to all the electors of Westminster, as an indefatigable canvasser on behalf of the 'Friend of the People;' during the contests for Westminster, Sam kept open house for the friends of the Whig chief, and entertained all the notabilities of the Whig party. Summer and winter, Sam dressed in a clean nankeen jacket and breeches, and brightly polished shoes and buckles; he wore no covering, neither hat nor wig, on a perfectly bald head; his waistcoat was constantly open in all seasons, and he wore remarkably white linen; his legs were generally bare, but when covered, it was always in stockings of the finest silk. In Rowlandson's spirited portrait old Sam is standing in his sturdy fashion, clean, shaven, and bright, in his eccentric costume, with his shining round poll, a pot with his cipher in one hand, and his pipe in the other. In the rear is shown his public-house, with smokers and customers indicated at the windows. This portrait, which seems to have been deservedly popular, was published with variations. In one impression (printed in sepia), is a barrel inscribed '_No Pope_,' and in another, '_Fox for ever! Huzza!_' The second plate is crossed with very fine stipple, and an old man is introduced in the background with his hand on his bald head. The prints are signed with the initials T. R. and J. J., and were published by Thomas Rowlandson and J. Jones at 103 Wardour Street. Under some impressions is the inscription, 'The first man who jumped off Westminster Bridge.' SAM HOUSE. Not more the great Sam House, with horror, star'd, By mob affronted to the very beard; Whose impudence (enough to damn a jail) Snatch'd from his waving hand his fox's tail, And stuff'd it, 'midst his thunders of applause, Full in the centre of Sam's gaping jaws; That, forcing down his patriotic throat, Of 'Fox and freedom!' stopp'd the glorious note. _November 13, 1780._ _Naval Triumph, or Favours Conferred._--Admiral Keppel is riding in triumph through the gates of Greenwich Hospital, mounted on the shoulders of a veteran salt, on crutches, who has lost both an eye and his legs in the service of his country. The Admiral, with his riband and star, is condescending to give a helping hand to another naval commander, who is dancing in merrily by his side. The shake of the hand with such goodness and grace Shows who is in favour, and who is in place. At Greenwich the invalids poor will proclaim What at present we do not think proper to name. Poor disabled sailors are limping off on their crutches, disgusted with the results of their sacrifices and the miserable rewards for their services; while a drummer is drubbing in their favoured and well-requited commanders. The composition of this subject is particularly good, and it is worthy of remark that, in the coloured impressions of this print, the tinting is arranged with considerable success; and although, as is the general practice with caricatures, none but the most vivid colours are employed, the arrangement is so good and delicate that the general effect is as harmonious and artistic as in the original drawings by Rowlandson's own hand. [Illustration: THE POWER OF REFLECTION.] _June 30, 1781._ _The Power of Reflection._ Published by J. Harris, Sweeting's Alley, Cornhill.--This print is executed in mezzotint by J. Jones, whose name appears several times in connection with that of Rowlandson, on the series of plates which we shall particularise in the progress of this work. The contrast is very marked between the Duenna, the lines of whose face have fallen in under the assaults of time, and the demoiselle, in all the pride of youth and attractiveness, aided by the bravery of a fashionable and _piquante_ toilette. _The Power of Reflection_ is probably intended to suggest a pictorial pun. While the maiden is absorbed in the pleasing reflection of her own figure as thrown back in the mirror, her senior, with a ponderous and probably serious volume before her, is employing her thoughts on contemplations of a more philosophical description. _October 28, 1781._ _E O, or the Fashionable Vowels._--It may be noticed, respecting the earlier works of Rowlandson, that his efforts, soon after he left the Academy, were marked with more care and elaboration than his later etchings; while the effects of his training were still fresh in his mind, he evidently took more pains in the direction of finish, and it is particularly in his management of _chiaro-oscuro_ that we detect the superiority of the artistic productions of his first period; although experience alone could give him that special freedom and facility which render his best-known productions remarkable. In the early and clear impressions of the _E O Table_, and its surroundings, the artist's skill is even more conspicuous than usual in the spirited grouping; the attitudes and expressions of the several gamblers are distinct with individuality and strongly-marked traits of character. Every variety of emotion--cunning, credulity, confidence, anxiety, stolid indifference, scheming, craft, stupidity, hectoring, exaltation, and despair--we find pictured with an ability which surprises us, contrasting as it does with the indifferent caricatures and the dearth of humorous talent in the years which intervened between the death of Hogarth and the appearance of the more ambitious subjects by Gillray and Rowlandson, works executed while the talents of these masters were at their best, and before they had grown careless of their reputation. The _E O Table_[22] was republished at various dates: in January 1786 it re-appeared with a new title, as _Private Amusement_, and from time to time it was reissued, the date of publication being altered to suit the several occasions. [Illustration: E O, OR THE FASHIONABLE VOWELS.] _E O Tables._--'In the year 1781 there were swarms of E O Tables in different parts of the town, where a poor man with a shilling only might try his luck. They were open to everybody, till at last the Bow Street police began to interfere.' An attempt was made, at the commencement of 1731, to suppress some of the most considerable gaming-houses in London and the suburbs, particularly one, behind Gray's Inn Walks. The editor of the _St. James's Evening Post_ observed upon this occasion: 'It may be matter of instruction as well as amusement to present our readers with the following list of officers which are established in the most notorious gaming-houses:-- 'A _Commissioner_, always a proprietor, who looks in of a night; the week's account is audited by him and two others of the proprietors. 'A _Director_, who superintends the room. 'An _Operator_, who deals the cards at a cheating game called _Faro_. 'Two _Croupees_, who watch the cards and gather the money for the bank. 'Two _Puffs_, who have money given them to decoy others to play. 'A _Clerk_, who is a check upon the _Puffs_, to see that they sink none of the money given them to play with. 'A _Squib_ is a _Puff_ of a lower rank, who serves at half-salary while he is learning to deal. 'A _Flasher_, to swear how often the bank has been stripped. 'A _Dunner_, who goes about to recover money lost at play. 'A _Waiter_, to fill out wine, snuff candles, and attend in the gaming-room. 'An _Attorney_, a Newgate solicitor. 'A _Captain_, who is to fight any gentleman that is peevish for losing his money. 'An _Usher_, who lights gentlemen up and down stairs, and gives the word to the porter. 'A _Porter_, who is generally a soldier of the Foot Guards. 'An _Orderly-man_, who walks up and down the outside of the door, to give notice to the porter and alarm the house at the approach of constables. 'A _Runner_, who is to get intelligence of the Justices meeting. 'Link-boys, watchmen, chairmen, drawers, or others, who bring the first intelligence of the Justices' meetings, or of the constables being out--_half-a-guinea_ reward. 'Common-bail, affidavit-men, ruffians, bravoes, _cum multis aliis_.' _November 27, 1781._ _Brothers of the Whip._ A. Grant, del.: published by H. Humphrey.--In this engraving a good deal of Rowlandson's manner is traceable, and the etching is at least due to his hand. The subject represents a group of four _brothers of the whip_, whose persons and features are marked with that discrimination for character and faculty for grasping individual peculiarities distinctive of the caricaturist. In the background are figured coach-horses, carriages, saddle-horses, grooms, &c., all depicted in his own marked style. [Illustration: CHARITY COVERETH A MULTITUDE OF SINS.] _November 27, 1781._ _Charity Covereth a Multitude of Sins_, published by H. Humphrey.--A dashing young officer is roving, in pursuit of pleasure, in a dangerous vicinity. With a generous hand he is dropping a gold-piece into the hat of a reduced sailor. Two Savoyards, a man with an organ, and a girl with a hurdygurdy are soliciting the contributions of the charitable. _December 10, 1781._ _The State Watchman Discovered by the Genius of Great Britain Studying Plans for the Reduction of America_, published by J. Jones.--This subject is engraved within a circle, and, in point of execution, it bears more resemblance to Rowlandson's later style; it is not unlike Gillray's work of the same date. The somnolent Lord North is fast asleep on his sofa, dreaming, according to the caricaturist, of new theories for the recovery of America. The figure of _Britannia_, with her staff and cap of Liberty, is well designed; she is crying, 'Am I thus protected?' A miniature figure is introduced, who is endeavouring to arrest the sleeper's attention--'Hallo, neighbour! what, are you asleep?' This officious person is, it is believed, intended to represent '_Sir Grey Parole_.'[23] [Illustration: BOB DERRY, OF NEWMARKET.] _No date._ _Bob Derry, of Newmarket._ [Illustration: LUXURY.] _No date._ _Luxury._ FOOTNOTES: [22] From Malcolm's _Manners and Customs of London during the Eighteenth Century_ (1810). 'Mr. Carlton, Deputy Clerk of the Peace, and Clerk to the Justices of Westminster, stated to a Committee of the House of Commons, in 1782, that E O Tables were very numerous; that one house in the parish of St. Anne, Soho, contained five, and that there were more than three hundred in the above parish of St. James's: those were used every day of the week, and servants enticed to them by cards of direction thrown down the areas.' [23] Lord North's Administration, which had the onus of conducting the American War, was daily growing weaker and losing popularity; it resigned in March of the year following, and the Rockingham Ministry came into office. The first condition of this more liberal Administration had obtained, through the negotiations of Lord Shelburne, the consent of the King to 'peace with the Americans, and the acknowledgment of their independence.' In a later caricature by Gillray, which appeared on the resignation of Lord North--_Banco to the Knave_, April 12, 1782--the figure of Sir Grey Cooper, one of the Treasury Secretaries, is introduced, exclaiming, 'I want a new master.' On this gentleman's chair is the name '_Sir Grey Parole_,' because, it is understood, he usually sat on the left of Lord North on the Treasury Bench; and when that statesman, who trusted to his memory for the principal points elicited in the debates, had been overcome by the constitutional somnolency which was a favourite subject of ridicule with the satirists, the Secretary aroused his chief, and supplied the deficiency of notes by suggesting the thread of argument, or _parole_, as required. 1782-83. _February 1783._ _Long Sermons and Long Stories are apt to lull the Senses._ Published by W. Humphrey. 1783. _Amputation._ Republished by S. W. Fores, October 17, 1793. [Illustration: AMPUTATION.] 1783 (?). _The Rhedarium, for the Sale of all sorts of Carriages, by Gregory Gigg._--The auctioneer is in his pulpit, employed in knocking down an assortment of vehicles to a small but sufficiently eccentric-looking audience. A gouty individual, propped on crutches, is making a bid for an antiquated kind of cabriolet, which the groom is trotting up for inspection; around are curricles, travelling carriages, and a general assemblage of the machines on wheels representative of the past. [Illustration: _The RHEDARIUM for the Sale of All sorts of Carriages By GREGORY GIGG._] 1783. _The Discovery._--A small political print, a parody on Shakespeare's 'Macbeth.' Lord North, who is the principal agent of the 'Witches' Incantation,' is crying:-- Call Fiends and Spectres from the yawning deep. BURKE. (_who is among the witches_). Cast in your mite, each midnight hag; Fill the Protector's poisoned Bag. MOTHER WILSON. Here's old Nick's nose. JEFFERY. Here's Devil's dung. DUNSTAN. The wind of Boreas, Belial's tongue, A Traitor's heart. SAM HOUSE. And Gibbets' blocks. But hold, ye hags, for here comes Fox. FOX (_who has suddenly entered, and is standing in his ordinary declamatory attitude_). And set the ministers of Hell to work. [Illustration: INTERIOR OF A CLOCKMAKER'S SHOP.] _December 22, 1783._ _Great Cry and Little Wool._ Published by Humphrey, Strand.--Somewhat in Sayer's style, the principal figures giving indications of his manner. The personification of Evil, with his horns, hoofs, pointed claws, and forked tail, has a firm hold of Fox, and is shearing the 'Protector's' chest and clawing at his profuse locks. The India Bill, under the Evil One's arm, indicates the source of the satire. The surroundings are more especially in Rowlandson's free handling; the India House is in the background, and the members of the East India Corporation are performing a gleeful dance around a memorable pile--the funeral pyre in effigy of their arch-enemy, treated as a fox roasting on a gibbet. 1783 (?). _The Times._--This caricature represents the situation, from a popular point of view, at the period of the struggle for the Regency which occurred on the first illness of the King. According to Rowlandson's print, right is prevailing and everything is to be settled for the future happiness of the kingdom by the Prince of Wales's accession to the throne; as will be remembered, it was for a short period doubtful whether the King's health would ever be sufficiently restored to enable him to resume the control of the State. The heir-apparent is shown as the virtuous prince we read of in fairy tales, endowed with all the graces both of mind and person. The Prince is supported, at the foot of the throne, by such protection as _Liberty_ and _Justice_ are placing at his disposal; his foot is on the first step, the _Voice of the People_; the other steps are _Public Safety_, _Patriotism_, and _Virtue_; the crown remains suspended over his head, his right hand is on his heart, and _Britannia_ is leading him to his place, while she is waving back the party which opposed his assumption of an _ad interim_ Regency. The symbolical _Ruler of the Waves_ is declaring: 'I have long been deceived by hypocrisy, but have at last discovered an intention of sacrificing the rights of my people to satisfy a private ambition.' The Queen and her German friends, Madame Schwellenberg and others, are represented as disconcerted Furies, waving hissing snakes, and begirt with _Falsehood_, _Envy_, &c. Queen Charlotte combined with Pitt to oppose, by every stratagem within their power, the assumption of the Regency by her eldest son. The Queen is brandishing the torch of _Rebellion_; Pitt is thrown into despair, and he is 'bidding a long farewell to all his greatness,' before his retirement from public life, as reasonably might have been his case, if the Prince's party had come into power. _Commerce_, allegorically represented as a fair female, is applauding the elevation of the Prince to the vacant throne, and a deputation from the Corporation of the City is expressing these encouraging sentiments through the Lord Mayor:--'Whilst we mourn the occasion, we must feel ourselves happy in reflecting that we are blessed by a prince whose wisdom will protect our liberties, whose virtues will afford stability to our empire.' 1784. POLITICAL CARICATURES. A few examples of the caricatures published by Rowlandson during the famous contested election for Westminster in 1784 were included by the present writer in his account of the works of _James Gillray the Caricaturist_, as certain prints issued on this occasion were doubtless due to a combination on the part of the two caricaturists; however, those plates which bear special indications of Rowlandson's style were set down to their proper author. _January 1, 1784._ _The Pit of Acheron, or the Birth of the Plagues of England._--This plate bears the initials _F. N._, 1784, in the right-hand corner, but there is no doubt, judging from the evidence of the style of execution, that the chief merit is due to Rowlandson. During the progress of the struggle, in 1784, plates innumerable were published anonymously, or with varying initials. Collectors who have devoted time and observation to the subject, and such well-qualified writers as the compiler of _The History of Caricature and Grotesque in Art, The Caricature History of the Georges, &c._, seem agreed upon the proportion of prints which are due to the skill of our artist, whose handiwork is very prominent amongst the series of electioneering and political satires which appeared on the occasion of Fox's renowned campaign at the Westminster hustings, when the _Champion of the People_ contended successfully against the second Ministerial candidate, Sir Cecil Wray, although the latter received all the assistance which Pitt, with the influence of the King as well, unscrupulously exercised as it was, could bring into play, legitimately or otherwise, to defeat the popular Whig chief, and to inflict the mortification of a lost election upon 'the party' and on their leader, who was at that time the pet aversion of George the Third and idol of the people. It will be remembered that Rowlandson was by no means a party satirist; unlike Sayer, who was notoriously in the Ministerial pay, he lavished his satire on both sides alternately, utterly regardless of partisanship, and, often at the expense of consistency, we find his cartoons alternately espousing and ridiculing the same section, Whig or Tory, Ministerialist or Opposition, in plates of whimsically opposite tendencies, which not infrequently bear the same date. _The Pit of Acheron_, if we may trust the satirist, is not situated at any considerable distance from Westminster; the precincts of that city appear through the smoke of the incantations which are carried on in the Pit. Three weird sisters, like the Witches in 'Macbeth,' are working the famous charm; a monstrous cauldron is supported by death's-heads and harpies; the ingredients of the broth are various; a crucifix, a rosary, _Deceit_, _Loans_, _Lotteries_, and _Pride_, together with a fox's head, cards, dice, daggers, and an executioner's axe, &c., form portions of the accessories employed in these uncanny rites. Three heads are rising from the flames--the good-natured face of Lord North, the spectacled and incisive outline of Burke, and Fox's 'gunpowder jowl,' which is drifting Westminster-wards. One hag, who is dropping _Rebellion_ into the brew, is demanding, 'Well, sister, what hast thou got for the ingredients of our charm'd pot?' To this her fellow-witch, who is turning out certain mischievous ingredients which she has collected in her bag, is responding, 'A beast from Scotland called an Erskine, famous for duplicity, low art, and cunning; the other a monster who'd spurn even at Charter's Rights.' Erskine is shot out of the bag, crying, 'I am like a Proteus, can turn to any shape, from a sailor to a lawyer, and always lean to the strongest side!' The other member, whose tail is that of a serpent, is singing, 'Over the water and over the lee, thro' hell I would follow my Charlie.' _January 4, 1784._ _The Fall of Dagon, or Rare News for Leadenhall Street._ Published by William Humphrey, 227 Strand. And behold Dagon was fallen upon his face to the ground before the ark of the Lord, and the head of Dagon and both the palms of his hands were cut off upon the threshold. The image of Dagon, which in this case is borrowed to typify the Coalition Ministers, has fallen from the overset _Broad Bottom_ pedestal, and is in the posture described by the quotation; its double-faced head wears the profiles of North and Fox. Tower Hill is represented in the background; a scaffold is erected, and the public executioner is just bringing down his axe on the neck of a traitor--a delicate compliment to the heads of the late Administration. John Bull has changed the sign of his house to _The Axe_, and he is composedly enjoying his pipe under its shadow. _January 7, 1784._ _The Loves of the Fox and the Badger, or the Coalition Wedding._ Published by W. Humphrey, 227 Strand.--Nine small compartments, very neatly executed upon one plate, are employed to portray the unpopular Coalition Ministry between Fox and North. (1) _The Fox beats the Badger in the Bear Garden._ The unwieldy form of the Badger (Lord North) lies, apparently asleep, on the floor of 'the House;' the Fox, with his brush erect in triumph, is in command of the situation. (2) The _Fox_ has been throwing dice on Hounslow Heath, and he has a _dream_; the vision seems to indicate a choice between a prison or a traitor's head on a spike. (3) The _Badger_, with his riband, tucked up comfortably on a sofa, also indulges in a _dream_; the objects offered for his selection are seemingly the gallows or an executioner's block. (4) _Satan unites them_; the arch-fiend, in person, is joining their paws and pronouncing the magic spell, '_Necessity_.' (5) _They quarter their arms._ Their new escutcheon is symbolical; above a scroll marked '_Money_' the twin supporters are holding up a well-filled Treasury-bag, borne by John Bull, above whose head flourishes a pair of donkey's ears. (6) _The priest advertises the wedding._ The Devil, presiding at the pay-table, is enlisting the advocacy of the press, and three editors, in return for substantial considerations, are respectively promising: 'I'll _Chronicle_ the Coalition,' 'We will _Post_ them,' 'Harry will take both sides.' (7) _The Honeymoon or Eddystone Lighthouse_; the pair are making up a flaming beacon. (8) _The New Orator Henley, or the Churching._ The happy pair are now in their glory, seated on a throne in the '_Bear Garden_,' and surrounded at a respectful distance by the heads (stuck on poles) of the members of their new Parliament, and described as a '_Mopstick majority_.' The churching is proceeding; the original pastor is still present, and is prompting Orator Henley, whose tub stands on a block, labelled, '_Honest Jack Lee_;' the Orator is holding forth a parchment, and declaring, 'A charter is nothing but a piece of parchment with a great seal dangling to it;' to which pious deduction his clerk mounted on 'A Seat for Portsmouth,' is crying, '_Necessity_. _Amen._' (9) _The Wedding Dance and Song._ The pair, now led by the nose by their Satanic friend, are perforce compelled to execute a pretty lively dance, as their conductor wills. They are singing this appropriate _epithalamium_:-- Come, we're all Rogues together; The people must pay for the play: Then let us make Hay in fine weather, And keep the cold winter away! It seemed, at the beginning of 1784, as if Fox were completely master of the political situation, and indeed he approached much nearer to an absolute control of the Administration than he was ever destined to reach again during the lifetime of his great opponent. The bold manoeuvres of Pitt, backed by the royal favour--the King and his friends condescending to dissimulation and subterfuge where honest policy would not suffice their turn--were crowned with unexpected success, and the Cromwell of the hour fell suddenly from his influential eminence. Up to the famous Westminster Election, Fox was paramount, both in Parliament and out of doors; for although Pitt was actually Crown-Minister, both he and his party were almost powerless when arrayed against the members of the ex-Coalition Ministry, their opponents, led by Fox, and his strong following, who were the real masters of the situation; thus we find a very characteristic portrait of the _Friend of Liberty and of the People_ introduced, with an allusion to Cromwell. _January 19, 1784._ _His Highness the Protector._--The supplies are kept with a tight hand; and Fox, taking advantage of his power, has put a huge padlock on the door of the Treasury, the key of which he seems determined to retain in his own keeping; a small dagger, held in the popular champion's right hand, indicates that he is prepared to stand on the defensive. His colleague Lord North, with his star round his neck, appears as a bulldog, who is supporting his leader in keeping the supplies inviolate. The apprehensions of the Pittites (whose chances of retaining the reins of administration in defiance of an Opposition too strong for their policy, now seemed desperate), pictured forth the total subversion of Throne and State; and it was under this influence that the King--whose stubborn will was strengthened by contradiction--indulged his threat of retiring to his German possessions, if he could not secure the return to office of his particular friends, whose hopes of recovering their lost control of the State were somewhat forlorn previous to the election; while Fox, on the other hand, was endeavouring to force the King to accede to the measures he had introduced for the restriction of the royal prerogative. A very complete, but necessarily over-coloured, view of the anticipations of 'the party' is thus pictured forth by Rowlandson. _January 23, 1784._ _The Times, or a View of the Old House in Little Britain,--with Nobody going to Hanover._ Published by W. Humphrey, 227 Strand.--The Old House is seemingly in a bad way; the foundation is _Public Credit_; the Funds, represented as a grilled gate, are secured with a huge padlock; the Royal Crown and Sceptre are placed on a block, and marked _for sale_; seated on another block, labelled _Protector_, sits the fox, guarding the Treasury; round his waist is a chain secured to the _Coalition-pillar_, which is depicted as rather a twisted support. Lord North has perched his unwieldy person upon a turnstile, and is crying, indifferent to consequences, 'Give me my ease, and do as you please.' The upper part of the _Old House_ is raising more cause for mistrust, since the old building is overweighted and crushed with a mass of _Taxes_, piled on the roof, the accumulated pressure of 'the accursed ten years' American war, fomented by the Opposition and misconducted by a timid Minister.' A light balcony has been thrown out, and therein things are proceeding in true showman style. Burke is officiating as exhibitor, and blowing through a trumpet; another statesman is doing the harlequin-business; merry-andrew 'Sherry' is flourishing his bottle and dancing round the corner of the balcony, on which is a placard announcing a wonderful combination of attractions: 'The Scarlet Woman of Babylon, the Devil, and the Pope.' 'The Man of the People' is pictured as a feather,--on the flag of the party. The sign of the _Old House, Magna Charta_, has fallen to tatters, and the board is dropping down; two lawyers, who appear at the window, are repairing the edifice according to their theories; one of the props of the edifice, _the Lords_, is spared, but the other, _prerogative of the Crown_, is being lopped off by one of the legal magnates. The King is turning his back on the place, and starting in a state coach on his way to Hanover, deaf and blind to the prayers of some of his subjects, who are imploring the royal compassion on their knees. _The Sun of England's Glory_ is setting in the distance, and an eye of light, piercing through the clouds, is warning the retiring monarch to 'Turn out these robbers and repair the House.' _February 3._ _The Infant Hercules._--Another caricature was directed against the ex-Coalition Ministers, representing them as twin serpents whose tails ('American War' and 'East India Bill') are entwined; the heads of Fox and North appear on the shoulders of the monster. Pitt is figured as the infant Hercules; he has taken his seat on the 'Shield of Chatham,' and has grasped the throats of the serpents, the tails of which are already lopped off. 'These,' he cries, 'were your Ministers.' Lord North, for twelve years, with his war and contracts, The people he nearly had laid on their backs; Yet stoutly he swore he sure was a villain If e'er he had bettered his fortune a shilling. Derry down, down; down, derry down. Against him Charles Fox was a sure bitter foe, And cried that the empire he'd soon overthrow; Before him all honour and conscience had fled; And vowed that the axe it should cut off his head. Derry down, down; down, derry down. Edmund Burke, too, was in a mighty great rage, And declared Lord North the disgrace of the age; His plans and his conduct he treated with scorn, And thought it a curse that he'd ever been born. Derry down, down; down, derry down. So hated he was, Fox and Burke they both swore, They infamous were if they enter'd his door; But, prithee, good neighbour, now think on the end-- Both Burke and Fox call him their very good friend! Derry down, down; down, derry down. Now Fox, North, and Burke, each one is a brother, So honest, they swear there is not such another; No longer they tell us we're going to ruin, The people they _serve_ in whatever they're doing. Derry down, down; down, derry down. But Chatham, thank heaven! has left us a son; When _he_ takes the helm, we are sure not undone; The glory his father revived of the land, And Britannia has taken Bill Pitt by the hand. Derry down, down; down, derry down. [Illustration: BRITANNIA ROUSED, OR THE COALITION MONSTERS DESTROYED.] _February 3, 1784._ _Britannia Roused, or the Coalition Monsters Destroyed._--Britannia, the symbolical goddess, is fairly aroused, and her greatness and power are effectually asserted on the persons of the late Ministers. Her strong arm is throttling the lethargic Lord North, and she has seized the body of Fox, whose person she is dashing over her head, in a manner which threatens the extinction of the popular idol. The East India Company and its Corporation became, for a time, the chief bone of contention. Fox had gone out of office on the rejection of his provisions for the proper regulation of our Eastern Empire,[24] and Pitt, on coming into power, introduced his own motion with the same object. The view of the public on this point was expressed by Rowlandson's satirical summary of the situation. _February 7, 1784._ _Billy Lackbeard and Charley Blackbeard Playing at Football._--Fox and Pitt are both kicking with a will; the football is the old House of John Company, Leadenhall Street; the edifice is turned upside down, and the rival players are succeeding in keeping the vast concern suspended in the air between them. _Billy Lackbeard_ has just turned from the study of Blackstone,--an allusion to the youth of the Prime Minister. It is interesting to remember that Pitt had resigned his ambitious mind seriously to the study and practice of the law, in case the progress of events should deprive him of Parliamentary significance. The commencement of his career was somewhat troublous, especially during the 'Regency struggle,' when the state of the King's health rendered the accession of the Prince of Wales probable, in which case the governing power would have remained in the hands of his more experienced rival. Behind Fox is a dicebox, and at his feet lie packs of playing-cards, indicating that gambling was the only resource left him, if he could not succeed in regaining office. The influence which was being brought to bear, through illegitimate channels, to strengthen the party of Pitt's followers, who found themselves in such a minority as to be powerless at first, was recognised and commented on out of doors. The satirists freely exposed the Ministerial manoeuvres; it was evident that the Court party, and especially the King, would count no sacrifice too great, could they but contrive to prevent the return of the members of the late Coalition Ministry to power, this hostility being intensified by the prejudices borne in the royal mind against Fox. So strongly did this influence work that we find in _The Morning Post and Daily Advertiser_ for February 10, 1784, the names of twenty-two members who had fallen under the spell of Ministerial beguilements. The advertisement is quite simple, and appears without either comment or explanation; the heading is pictorial, and represents a string of rats--such as might preface an ordinary rat-catcher's advertisement--it is placed above the name of Jack Robinson, in capital letters. Then follow, in three short columns, the names of the twenty-two Parliamentary rats who had gone over to the good pickings which the King was able to hold forth as a temptation in return for the allegiance of these renegades. This curious advertisement is repeated in a satirical print which Rowlandson prepared on the same subject. [Illustration: THE APOSTATE JACK ROBINSON, THE POLITICAL RAT-CATCHER.] _March 1, 1784._ _The Apostate Jack Robinson, the Political Rat-catcher. N.B. Rats taken alive._--Before the door of the Treasury, from whence the converter of rats draws his supply of baits and lures, travelling cautiously on all fours and feeling his way, the political rat-catcher is slily augmenting his captures. Round the apostate Jack's waist hangs the _cestus of corruption_, in his pocket is a little aide-de-camp, who is made to cry, 'We'll ferret them out!' On his back is a double trap, baited with miniature coronets, places, &c.; one or two rats have been secured in this; golden pieces strew the floor, and with these the rats to be captured are playing and coquetting. A large bait of pension is held to the nose of one grave old veteran, probably intended for Edmund Burke, and the other rats are watching the bait with longing looks. A placard is pinned on the wall, 'Jack Robinson, Rat-catcher to Great Britain. Vermin preserved.' Under the heading of 'Rats of Note' is given the very list of apostates as published in the _Morning Post_, beneath Jack Robinson's patronymic. _Second Title._ Thus when Renegado sees a Rat In the traps in the morning taken, With pleasure he goes Master Pitt to pat, And swears he will have his bacon. _March 3, 1784._ _A Peep into Friar Bacon's Study._--A spectacle of conjuration, which discloses matters of some historical moment. In the centre of the picture stands the brazen head which is giving forth its oracles. King George the Third, who has thrown a conjuror's cloak over his star and riband, is holding out two divining-rods, and questioning the head--'What is this?' To this the magic bust is giving forth these oracle-like phrases: 'Time is, Time was, Time is past;' while three luminous circles, each bordered with the word _Constitution_, help to illuminate the obscurity of the revelation. The first view of the Constitution, 'Time is past,' displays the King on his throne, with a radiance like the sun; the other bodies of the State barely come within the charmed circle; the Houses of Lords and Commons appear mere 'air balloons.' 'Time is' offers another view of the Constitution; the King's circle has diminished, that of the House of Peers is increasing in magnitude and becoming bound up with the royal circle; the House of Commons, without infringing on either, has arrived within the circumference of the Constitution; and in the third view we find the three circles assimilated in size and working one within the other--the Constitution in its perfected form, in fact. Behind the King the members of the late Ministry are appearing at a door. Fox, North, and Burke are in the front rank; they bid the monarch 'Beware!' The King's friends, led by an imp of Satan, or, perhaps, by the Devil in person, are finding their way down the back-stairs. Foremost is a figure bearing a lantern, which is throwing a light on the movements of the Opposition. Lord Temple, and other influential supporters of the Ministry, are making their entry on the scene, and crying, 'We must destroy this coalition,' 'A fig for the resolutions,' &c. _March 8, 1784._ _Master Billy's Procession to Grocers' Hall._--Pitt has, according to the picture, supplemented his Parliamentary tactics by flattering the citizens, and bidding for the Corporation influence. He is drawn going to _Grocers' Hall_ in state to receive the freedom of the City in a gold box, which is carried at the head of the procession. Great enthusiasm prevails, as a liberal gentleman, in the uniform of a naval officer, is distributing handfuls of coin amongst the mob. Banners are carried in the procession with the party watchwords, '_Pitt and prerogative_,' and '_Youth is a most enormous crime_.' The car of Sir Watney, drawn by satyrs comes first; then, in the middle, perched up in a triumphal car, and with a feather in his hat, comes Master Billy, drawn, of course, by _King's men_. Sir Barney follows, drawn by his admirers, and shouting, 'Pitt and plum-pudding for ever!' The show is passing the shop of 'Tommy Plume, grocer to his Majesty;' this worthy, who is crying, 'O what a charming youth!' is seen at his window, surrounded by shouting spectators. At the sign of the _Lord Chatham_ is gathered another party of sightseers; they are enthusiastically declaring that 'Master Pitt is very like his father!' [Illustration: MASTER BILLY'S PROCESSION TO GROCERS' HALL.] _March 11, 1784._ _The Champion of the People._--The sturdy figure of Fox, clad in somewhat theatrical armour, and protected by the _Shield of Truth_, is resolutely combating the overgrown _Hydra_ of patronage, whose growing and unconstitutional power--it was hinted--would shortly destroy the liberty of the subject. The monster, a compound of the Pittite party and its royal supporter, is hissing and spitting venom with all its various heads, _Tyranny_, _Assumed Prerogative_, _Despotism_, _Oppression_, _Secret Influence_, and _Scotch Politics_; while three heads have been already lopped off by the champion's sword, _Duplicity_ and _Corruption_ are laid in the dust. The foreign Powers are represented in alliance, and dancing round the _Standard of Sedition_. Natives, of the subject East Indian races, are kneeling and blessing their champion; and a compact array of _English and Irish supporters_ is drawn up under the standard of '_Britannia and Universal Liberty_.' Fox's followers are respectively declaring, 'While he protects us, we will support him;' and 'He gave us a free trade, and all we asked; he shall have our firm support!' _March 26, 1784._ _The State Auction._--This print illustrates the pass to which, as it was assumed, the Constitution was coming under the evil effects of the undue extension of the royal prerogative. The 'State Auction' is held, under high patronage, in the '_Commission warehouse; money advanced on all sorts of useless valuables, by Pitt and Co., Auctioneers. N.B. Licensed by Royal Authority._' Pitt, seated on his rostrum, under the royal arms, is knocking down 'State property' in the capacity of auctioneer. The first lot is, it seems, the most interesting one in the sale: 'The Rights of the People, in 558 volumes.' Pitt's friend Dundas is acting as sale porter. 'Show the lot this way, Harry,' cries the auctioneer. 'Agoing, agoing; speak quick, or it's gone. Hold up the lot, ye Dund ass!' To which invitation the Scot, Dundas, who has been doing his best to help Master Pitt, responds, 'I can hould it na higher, sir!' Pitt is favouring the biddings of the 'Hereditary Virtuosi,' a compact knot of Peers and 'the King's friends;' at their head stands Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who is disparaging the Opposition. 'Mind not the nonsensical biddings of those common fellows.' The 'chosen representatives' of the people are standing by themselves, apart from the bidders; their backs are turned upon the entire proceedings, and they are apparently leaving the sale-room _en masse_, by way of protest, at the same time exclaiming, 'Adieu to Liberty!' 'Despair not!' and 'Now or never!' Fox alone is making a resolute stand; he cries, 'I am determined to bid with spirit for lot 1--he shall pay dear for it that outbids me.' The lots are of general interest. Lot 2 is _Magna Charta_; lot 3 is '_Obsolete Public Acts_;' lot 4, the Sword of Justice; lot 5, the Mace; lots 6 and 7, legal wigs and gowns, &c. The sale-clerk, recording the biddings on the parchments of 'sundry Acts,' is declaring gleefully, 'We shall get the supplies by this sale!' _March 29, 1784._ _The Drum-Major of Sedition._--The portrait of Major John Cartright, one of the most energetic and disinterested Reformers, is given under this title. The Major is firmly grasping a pole of Liberty in his right hand, and is holding forth in front of the hustings erected for the election, round which are gathered numerous voters and a crowd of others, who are being addressed from the platform. Admiral Lord Hood is introduced, shouting, 'Two faces under a Hood!' The speech made by the Drum-Major of Sedition has a strong ironical tendency. 'All gentlemen and other electors for Westminster who are ready and willing to surrender their rights and those of their fellow-citizens to secret influence, and the _Lords of the Bedchamber_, let them repair to the prerogative standard, lately erected at the Cannon Coffee House, where they shall be kindly received--until their services are no longer wanted. This, gentlemen, is the last time of asking, as we are determined to abolish the power of the House of Commons, and in future be governed by Prerogative, as they are in France and Turkey. Gentlemen, the ambition of the enemy is now evident. Has he not, within these few days past, stole the Great Seal of England, while the Chancellor[25] was taking a bottle with a female favourite, as all great men do? I am informed, gentlemen, that the enemy now assumes Regal Authority, and, by virtue of the Great Seal (which he stole), is creating of peers and granting of pensions. A most shameful abuse, gentlemen, of that instrument. If you assist us to pull down the House of Commons, every person who hears me has a chance of becoming a great man, if he is happy enough to hit the fancy of Lord Bute and of Mr. Jenkinson. Huzza! God save the King!' _March 30, 1784._ _Sir Cecil's Budget for Paying the National Debt._--Sir Cecil Wray, in spite of his Ministerial friends, does not seem to have been a popular candidate after he had deserted the Liberal party; indeed, he became the mere puppet of the hour, the Ministerial struggles of the '_King's friends_' being not so much directed to bringing in their nominee, as to inflict the mortification of a defeat on Fox. Two unfortunate projects, which Sir Cecil Wray had originated, were perpetually used against him by his opponents; these were his proposals to abolish Chelsea Hospital and to tax maid-servants. In the print '_Sir Cecil's Budget for paying the National Debt_' has been accepted, and Chelsea Hospital is brought to the ground, involving in its destruction all the disabled veterans for whom the country was bound to provide. Sir Cecil is shown in the distance, exposed to very humiliating treatment; a pensioner, who has escaped the downfall of the Hospital, is whipping him forward with his crutch, while a group of female servants, with pails and brooms, are visiting on his person, the injustices they anticipated. 'Tax servant-maids, you brute, and starve poor old soldiers--a fine Member of Parliament!' While in office Fox had proposed a tax upon receipts, which was loudly cried down by his Tory opponents; it was now written of Wray:-- For though he opposes the stamping of notes, 'Tis in order to tax all your petticoats; Then how can _a woman_ solicit your votes For Sir Cecil Wray? For had he to women been ever a friend, Nor by taxing _them_ tried our old taxes to mend, Yet so _stingy_ he is, that none can contend For Sir Cecil Wray. The gallant Lord Hood to his country is dear; His voters, like Charlie's, make excellent cheer; But who has been able to taste _the small beer_ Of Sir Cecil Wray? Then come, ev'ry free, ev'ry generous soul, That loves a fine girl and a full flowing bowl, Come here in a body, and all of you poll 'Gainst Sir Cecil Wray! In vain all the arts of the Court are let loose, The electors of Westminster never will choose To run down a Fox, and set up a _goose_ Like Sir Cecil Wray. [Illustration: THE HANOVERIAN HORSE AND BRITISH LION.] _March 31, 1784._ _The Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion. A scene in a new play, lately acted in Westminster with distinguished applause._ Act ii., scene last.--The faithful Commons are still suffering from the aggressive tendencies of the White Horse of Hanover, which is trampling on '_Magna Charta_,' '_Bill of Rights_', and '_Constitution_,' kicking, rearing, and driving the members of the 'faithful Commons' forth with his heels. The brute is neighing out '_Pre-ro-ro-ro-ro-rogative_;' while Pitt, a remarkably light jockey, is encouraging the excitement of the brute: 'Bravo! go it again; I love to ride a mettle steed. Send the vagabonds packing.' The sturdy person of Fox is safely astride the British Lion; the royal beast has quitted his place in the army of England, leaving the notice, '_We shall resume our situation here at pleasure.--Leo Rex._' He is keeping a watchful eye on the Hanoverian Horse, and protesting, 'If this horse is not tamed he will soon be absolute king of our forest.' Fox has come on the scene prepared to render efficient assistance; he is provided with a bit and bridle, and a stout riding-whip, to tame and control the high-mettled Hanoverian steed. 'Prithee, Billy,' he is crying to Pitt, 'dismount before ye get a fall--and let some abler jockey take your seat!' _April 3, 1784._ _The Two Patriotic Duchesses on their Canvass; requesting the favour of an early poll._--The zealous canvassers for 'the Champion of the people' are enlisting the sympathies of possible voters. Their mode of procedure is shown at a butcher's stall, according to the satirist's view of their patriotic exertions. The Duchess of Devonshire, wearing the Prince of Wales's plume in her hat, above an immense favour _for Fox_, has placed one arm round the waist of a young butcher, and, with her left hand, is pushing a well-filled purse into his pocket; at the same time she is cementing the compact with a chaste kiss. Farther on is seen the Duchess of Portland, who is attempting to beguile another butcher's apprentice; but she is less successful, probably because her personal attractions will not bear comparison with the graces of the winning Georgiana. _April 4, 1784._ _The Incurable._--Fox, in a strait-jacket, with straw disposed in his hair, is represented as mad beyond recovery; he is singing in forlorn despair:-- My lodging is on the cold ground, and very hard is my case, But that which grieves me most is the losing of my place. Doctor Munro, the King's physician, in his court-dress, is examining the patient through his eyeglass, and attesting, 'As I have not the least hope of his recovery, let him be removed amongst the _Incurables_.' Below the print the following lines occur:-- Dazzled with hope he could not see the cheat Of aiming with impatience to be great. With wild ambition in his heart, we find, Farewell content and quiet of his mind; For glittering clouds he left the solid shore, And wonted happiness returns no more. The poll was opened on April 1, and continued without intermission until May 17. _April 8, 1784._ _The Rival Candidates._--The three candidates who were contesting the 'great fight' for the representation of Westminster are represented according to their supposititious characteristics. Fox, with his hand on his heart, and his arm held out in a declamatory attitude, stands for _Demosthenes_; Hood is introduced as _Themistocles_; and Wray is less flatteringly served up in the character of _Judas Iscariot_. It must be remembered that '_the Knight of the Back-stairs_' had been nominated for the previous Parliament by Fox, with whom he had shared the representation of Westminster, but Wray thought fit to desert to the Tories and oppose his political leader, forsaking his friends and his principles for the sake of promised Ministerial patronage. [Illustration: RIVAL CANDIDATES.] _April 10, 1784._ _The Parody, or Mother Cole and Loader._ (See Foote's 'Minor,' page 29.)--The broad-spread figure of Lord North, with a capacious hood round his head, is parodied as the sanctimonious _Mother Cole_; a bottle of 'Constitution Cordial,' to sustain her sinking spirits, is placed by her side. Fox, as _Loader_, with his dicebox thrown to the ground, is listening, handkerchief in hand, to _Old Moll's_ lamentations. 'Ay, I am going, a-wasting, and a-wasting. What will become of the House when I am gone Heaven knows. No, when people are missed, then they are mourned. Sixteen years have I lived in St. Stephen's Chapel comfortably and creditably; and, tho' I say it, could have got bail any hour of the day! No knock-me-down doings in my House--a set of regular, sedate, sober customers--no rioters. Sixteen did I say? Ay, eighteen years have I paid _Scot_ and _Lot_, and during the whole time nobody has said, "Mrs. North, why do you say so?"--unless twice that I was threatened with impeachment, and three times with a halter!' Fox is moved to respond, 'May I lose deal, with an honour at bottom, if Old Moll does not bring tears in my eyes.' _April 12, 1784._ _The Devonshire, or most approved method of securing votes._--The Duchess of Devonshire has taken to her arms the person of a fat and greasy butcher, whom she is favouring with a salute in the zeal of patriotism; another fair canvasser (possibly the Duchess of Gordon), rejoicing in proportions more expanded than those of the beautiful Georgiana, is seconding the proceeding; while, shouting 'Huzza, Fox for ever!' a lusty butcher, with his tray under his arm, is cheering and hurrying up to share his possible reward. [Illustration: THE DEVONSHIRE, OR MOST APPROVED MANNER OF SECURING VOTES.] _April 12, 1784._ _The Westminster Watchman._--Charles James Fox is represented as the trusty guardian, standing unmoved and at his ease amidst the 'Ministerial thunderbolts;' he wears on his head the _cap of Liberty_, and his support is the _staff of 'uprightness_;' his dog, the faithful companion of his rounds, is _Vigilance_; and his lamp, which sheds its light on everything around, is _Truth_. A pair of superannuated and useless watchmen are shuffling off--Hood 'for Greenwich,' and Wray 'for Chelsea.' The plate is inscribed to Fox's supporters--'To the independent Electors of Westminster this print of their staunch old watchman, the guardian of their rights and privileges, is dedicated by a grateful Elector. N.B. _Beware of counterfeits, as the Greenwich and Chelsea Watchmen are upon the look-out!_' _April 12, 1784._ _The Poll._--The scene is still the polling-booth, Covent Garden; the canvassers, committees, and mobs are giving their entire attention to the performance carried on for their entertainment between the fair rival advocates, who are balanced at either end of a plank laid across a stone post. The Duchess of Devonshire is sent up into the air; her end of the poll is carried over Fox's head; '_Duke and no Duke, a play_,' is placarded above her. [Illustration: THE WESTMINSTER WATCHMAN.] The opposite extreme of _the poll_ is weighed down effectually by the weight of a corpulent lady, described in these election squibs as _Madame Blubber_, the Honourable Mrs. Hobart (Lady Buckinghamshire), of _Pic-Nic_ notoriety. Hood is cheating by kneeling down and clinging to the skirts of the Ministerial championess, he lends an additional weight to his side of the balance; behind them is Wray, defying his opponent. Over the heads of this group flutters a placard, '_The Rival Candidates, a farce_.' The Opposition party dwelt mainly upon Sir Cecil Wray's renegade want of principle in turning against his leader, Fox. His liberality was severely called in question, and there was a satirical story of his keeping nothing in his cellar but small beer. The old symbolism of slavery and France--wooden shoes--was revived for the occasion; much stress was laid on the extensive polling of soldiers for Hood and Wray at the beginning of the election, when on one occasion two hundred and eighty of the Guards were sent in a body to give their votes as householders. This, Horace Walpole observes, _was_ legal, 'but which my father (Sir Robert) in the most quiet sessions would not have dared to do.' All dependents on the Court were commanded to vote on the same side as the soldiers. The following placard, which was put out early in the canvass, is a fair example of the courtesies with which the Ministerial manoeuvres were acknowledged by their opponents:-- 'All _Horse Guards_, _Grenadier Guards_, _Foot Guards_, and _Black Guards_ that have not polled for the destruction of _Chelsea Hospital_ and the _tax on maid-servants_ are desired to meet at the _Gutter Hole_, opposite the Horse Guards, where they will have a full bumper of _knock-me-down_ and plenty of _soapsuds_, before they go to the poll for Sir Cecil Wray or eat. 'N.B. Those that have no shoes or stockings may come without, there _being a quantity of wooden shoes provided for them_.' [Illustration: LORDS OF THE BEDCHAMBER.] _April 14, 1784._ _Lords of the Bedchamber._--The Duchess of Devonshire, in her morning gown and cap, is favouring two privileged visitors with a cup of tea in her boudoir. The Duchess is attending to the tea urn; above her head hangs the Reynolds portrait of her liege lord. Sam House, in his publican's jacket, is seated, stirring a cup of tea, on the sofa beside Fox, who is familiarly patting his friend and indefatigable ally on his bald head by way of friendly encouragement. Sam House was one of the most popular figures of his day, and he came into especial prominence, as we have seen, during the Fox's canvass. He is said to have kept open house during the Westminster Election at his own expense, and was honoured by entertaining the great Whig nobility. He was an indefatigable supporter of Fox, and his assistance was, as may be supposed, of no trifling moment to the cause. See brave Sammy House, he's as still as a mouse, And does canvass with prudence so clever; See what shoals with him flocks to poll for brave Fox; Give thanks to Sam House, boys, for ever, for ever, for ever! Give thanks to Sam House, boys, for ever! Brave bald-headed Sam, all must own, is the man Who does canvass for brave Fox so clever; His aversion, I say, is to _small beer and Wray_! May his bald head be honour'd for ever, for ever, for ever! May his bald head be honour'd for ever! _April 20, 1784._ _The Covent Garden Nightmare._--This subject is a parody on a painting by Fuseli. Rowlandson has taken the idea and fitted it to the purpose of an electioneering squib. Fox is represented stretched in an uneasy slumber, nightmare-ridden. An unearthly incubus oppresses his body and haunts his repose; a corpulent imp is crouched on his hams pressing the great man's chest, while the head and shoulders of a supernatural mare are shown making their appearance through the bed-curtains. On a table by Fox's side are shown the dice and dicebox, the satirist's inevitable resource when dealing with the frailties of the 'man of the people,' who, it must be confessed, had in his day committed sufficient excesses in the way of gambling; a vice he absolutely renounced in after-life, but not before it had ruined his purse, imperilled his reputation, and proved a fruitful source of recrimination in the mouths of his enemies. _April 22, 1784._ _Madame Blubber on her Canvass._--We find the Duchess of Devonshire and the Honourable Mrs. Hobart--the most prominent of the fair electioneering agents who threw the power of their personal charms into the political arena--scandalised alternately; her Grace the fascinating Georgiana was represented as a softening influence by which the votes of the butchers were secured; we find Pitt's fair champion, _Madame Blubber_ (Lady Buckinghamshire), endeavouring to cajole the same classes in identical fashion. The lady, who, it must be acknowledged, was somewhat stout, is trying her hand amongst the rough sellers of meat; she is holding out a purse as a bait, saying, 'Hood and Wray, my dear butcher;' the butcher's dogs are regarding the canvasser suspiciously; their master, at ease in his armchair, without moving his pipe from his mouth, is puffing out bluntly, 'I'm engaged to the Duchess!' 'Pho! give her a glass,' suggests the butcher's friend, who is drinking punch with him from a bowl on which is the figure of a fox, the chopping-block serving as their table. _Madame Blubber_ has a train of appreciative butcher's men in her wake; one is declaring that she is 'the fattest cattle he ever handled!' a drover is observing, 'Lincolnshire, dammee!' and a lad with a tray pronounces her a 'plumper!' THE COURT CANVASS OF MADAME BLUBBER. _To the Tune of 'The First Time at the Looking-glass.'_ A certain lady I won't name Must take an active part, sir, To show that DEVON'S beauteous dame Should not engage each heart, sir. She canvass'd all, both great and small, And thunder'd at each door, sir; She rummaged every shop and stall-- The Duchess was still before her. Sam Marrowbones had shut up shop, And just had lit his pipe, sir, When in the lady needs must pop, Exceeding plump and ripe, sir. 'Good zounds,' says he, 'how late you be! For votes you come to bore me; But let us feel are you beef or veal-- The Duchess has been before you.' A fishmonger she next address'd With many a soothing tale, sir, And for his vote most warmly press'd, But all would not prevail, sir. 'The finest cod's-head sure in town, Of oysters send two score too.' 'Extremely, madame, like your own-- The Duchess has been before you.' A grocer next, to make amends, The dame with smiles accosted: 'You grocers all to PITT are friends,' Of her connection boasted! 'For plums and raisins, ma'am,' said he, 'I'm willing for to score you: In politics we shan't agree-- The Duchess was here before you.' Sly Obadiah was at prayers With many pious folk, sir; His pretty maid on the _back-stairs_ She found, and thus bespoke her: 'This riband take, all interest make; Your master will adore you, For Hood and Wray pray kiss and pray.' 'Now, Duchess, I'm once before you.' A stable-keeper to engage She then her talents tried, sir; He fell into a monstrous rage, And all her smiles defied, sir. 'Are you a full moon or Court balloon? Get out, you female Tory; Tho' Courts prevail I'll not turn tail-- The Duchess was here before you.' However courtiers take offence, And cits and prudes may join, sir, Beauty will ever influence The free and generous mind, sir. Fair DEVON, like the rising sun, Proceeds in her full glory, Whilst madame's duller orb must own The Duchess moves before her. _April 22, 1784._ _Wit's Last Stake, or the Cobbling Voter and Abject Canvassers._--Every stratagem which could secure the popular voice for either candidate was freely put in practice; but while the Pittites resorted to threats and force, Fox and his adherents relied mainly on persuasion and good humour. _Wit's last Stake_ shows the exertions made in the canvassing department. Fox is in the centre of the picture, giving his knee as a seat for his fair advocate, the Duchess of Devonshire, who is resorting to a subterfuge commonly employed as a precaution against actions for bribery at elections, by the stall of a cobbler, who happens to be a voter: her Grace has discovered that her shoe requires a stitch; the cobbler, with his tongue thrust out at the side of his mouth, is working at the supposititious repairs with pantomimic energy; meanwhile his wife is receiving in payment for the job a handful of sovereigns from her Grace's purse. The scene takes place in Peter Street, and the cobbler's board announces, '_Shoes made and mended by Bob Stichett, cobbler to her Grace the tramping Duchess_.' A fox's brush is being waved overhead out of the first-floor window by a supporter, who has been provided with pipe and pot at the Whig expense. Fox is giving his right hand to another voter, a tattered and stupified-looking scavenger, to whom Sam House is also administering comfort in the shape of a pot of porter. Among other followers of the 'Man of the People' Rowlandson has introduced a chimney-sweeper and his boy. [Illustration: WIT'S LAST STAKE, OR THE COBBLING VOTER AND ABJECT CANVASSERS.] Fox's canvass was enlivened by the rough humours of the various classes whose favour he required to enlist; his own good-nature was equal to every emergency. One blunt tradesman, whose vote he solicited, replied, 'Mr. Fox, I cannot give you my support; I admire your abilities, but d---- your principles!' To which the candidate smartly responded, 'My friend, I applaud you for your sincerity, but d---- your manners!' In another instance Fox's application to a saddler in the Haymarket for his interest was met with a practical joke--the man produced a _halter_, with which he expressed his willingness to oblige the statesman. Said Fox, 'I return you thanks, my friend, for your intended present; but I should be sorry to deprive you of it, as I presume it must be a _family piece_.' _April 22, 1784._ _King's Place, or a View of Monsieur Reynard's Best Friends._--Another gathering of Fox's fair adherents. The Prince of Wales, surrounded by fashionably-dressed nymphs, wearing one of Fox's favours below his plume, and with a fox-brush in his hand, is speaking in his friend's favour: 'He supported my cause!' A pleasingly-drawn female--probably intended to suggest Mrs. Robinson, the _Perdita_ of the Prince's early love-story--is asserting, 'He is as generous as a prince, and a prince should not be limited!' A group of Lady Abbesses are also saying 'good things' in their candidate's favour: 'He introduced his Royal Highness to my house!' 'I have taken many a pound of his money. Fox for ever. Huzza!' _April 22, 1784._ _Political Affection._--The Duchess of Devonshire is still slandered by the satirists; according to the present unjust version her 'political affection' is causing her to neglect her infant, the heir of the Cavendishes, to lavish her tenderness on a hybrid prodigy, a fox dressed up in the robes of an infant. By the side of a neglected cradle is seen a cat, forgetting her kitten to lick the face of a poodle. This coarse hostility to the Duchess was probably popular in its day, as we find a long series of allusions conceived in the same spirit. _April 23, 1784._ _Reynard put to his Shifts._--The artists always took care to draw the Duchess of Devonshire as handsome and graceful as possible, even when their satires were most reckless and unsparing; while they descended to outrage the lady's fair reputation by innuendoes which were utterly unwarrantable. The beauteous Devon is standing in the middle of the picture, filled, as usual, with animation for the Whig cause; she is offering the shelter of her protection to a panting and frightened fox, whose pursuers are following fast on his brush. A huntsman is encouraging his hounds: 'Tally O! my good dogs!' 'No Coalition,' 'No India Bill,' and other party utterances are put into the mouths of the pack. _April 29, 1784._ _The Case is Altered._--The election has gone against Sir Cecil Wray, and he has to turn elsewhere; Fox, it will be remembered, in addition to his return for Westminster, was elected for Kirkwall (Scotland), and in the print he is shown driving his discomfited opponent to Lincoln. The Ministerial candidate is not travelling with a flourish of trumpets, but is smuggled off in the 'Lincolnshire caravan for paupers;' the knight is reflecting over his reverses: 'I always was a poor dog, but now I am worse than ever.' Fox is acting as charioteer; he is saying, over his shoulder, 'I will drive you to Lincoln, where you may superintend the _small beer and brickdust_.' Lord Hood, who has come upon this conveyance suddenly, is moved with pity for his late colleague; he cries, 'Alas! poor Wray.' [Illustration: THE CASE IS ALTERED.] As the increasing number of votes gave fresh spirit to the Foxites, satirical squibs, and songs exulting over Wray's possible downfall and his future fate, were plentifully put forth by the wits of the Opposition. The following specimen will illustrate the nature of some of the placards which were scattered about towards the close of the election:-- _Oh! help Judas, lest he fall into the_ PITT _of ingratitude_!!! _The_ prayers _of all bad Christians, Heathens, Infidels, and Devil's agents are most earnestly requested for their dear friend_, JUDAS ISCARIOT, _Knight of the Back-stairs, Lying at the period of political dissolution, having received a dreadful wound from the lovers of liberty and the Constitution, in the poll of the last ten days at the Hustings, nigh unto the Place of Cabbages._ _April 29, 1784._ _Madame Blubber's Last Shift, or the Ærostatic Dilly._--This caricature pictures the hustings at Covent Garden, with a distant view of Richmond Hill. _Madame Blubber_ has patriotically contrived to convert herself into an air-balloon, for the collection and conveyance of _outlying voters_, crying, 'This may save him,' an allusion to some incident in the canvass. A brace of voters have been secured in the parachute of this novel Ærostatic Dilly; these favoured gentlemen are enabled to take a flying view from their elevation of the hustings below. Wray and Hood are anxiously looking forward to the arrival of their balloon. According to the inscription given on the plate, in the artist's hand, the print represents 'The grand political Balloon, launched at Richmond Park, on the--March, 1784, and discharged by secret influence with great effect in Covent Garden at 12 o'clock on the same day. 'As it may be necessary to explain to the public upon what principles a body was conveyed twelve miles with so great velocity, it must be understood that the lady, though ponderous, being of a volatile disposition, out of decency sewed up her petticoats, which, being filled with gas, immediately raised her to a considerable height in the atmosphere, and, by the attraction of secret influence, was conveyed to her desired object--the support of Hood and Wray and the Constitution--and descended happily to the hustings with two outlying and dependent voters.' Tho' in every street All the voters you meet The Duchess knows best how to court them, Yet for outlying votes, In my petticoats, I've found out a way to transport them! Eight trips in this way, For Hood and for Wray, I'll make poll sixteen in one day. Dear Wray, don't despair, My supplies by the air Shall recover our losses on Monday! _April 30, 1784._ _Procession to the Hustings after a Successful Canvass._ (No. 14.)--Fox's supporters, a body of highly respectable householders, wearing huge Fox favours in their hats, are walking in procession to the hustings, cheered by the mob, and preceded by a marrowbone-and-cleaver accompaniment. At the head of the train marches the famous Duchess, with a somewhat novel standard; the other fair canvassers, whose portraits occur in the previous prints, are following in the footsteps of their illustrious leader; one is carrying a placard, '_Fox and the Rights of the Commons_;' another has a mob-cap and an apron, borne fluttering on a pole, with the words, '_No tax on Maid-servants_.' Behind follows a monster key--_the key of the back-stairs_--carried to deride the defeated candidate and the Court influence which had vainly been brought into play for his support. [Illustration: PROCESSION TO THE HUSTINGS AFTER A SUCCESSFUL CANVASS.] _May 1, 1784._ _Every Man has his Hobby-horse._--The successful candidate is chaired in a novel and agreeable fashion; his noble supporter, the Duchess of Devonshire, has taken him 'pick-a-back,' and, with staff and scrip, is bearing the victor on his triumphant progress; she is pausing at the door of _Mungo's Hotel, dealer in British spirits_, and soliciting the hospitality of the proprietor, a black man: 'For the good of the Constitution, give me a glass of gin!' Various bacchanalian revels are proceeding around, on the strength of Fox's triumphant return; the mob are huzzaing around two monster standards, which are topped by the cap of Liberty, and inscribed, '_Rights of the Commons. No prerogative_,' '_Fox and Liberty all over the world_.' An ensign is introduced, as appropriate to the occasion, significantly figuring forth a pair of executioner's axes, bound with a wreath of laurel. _May 6, 1784._ _Wisdom Led by Virtue and Prudence to the Temple of Fame._--This print is ascribed to Rowlandson, and in various points it offers a close resemblance to his style of execution. _Wisdom_ in the present case is personified by the successful candidate for Westminster; the Duchess of Devonshire and Lady Duncannon, wearing _Fox_ cockades in their head-dresses, are represented as _Virtue_ and _Prudence_. The former lady is also carrying a fox's-brush; she is crying:-- Let Envy rail and Disappointment rage, Still Fox shall prove the wonder of the age! To which Lady Duncannon is adding:-- Triumph and Fame shall every step attend His king's best subject and his country's friend! Britannia is seated, in an attitude of expectation, at the portal of the _Temple of Fame_; she is bidding her patriotic son 'welcome to her arms.' Sir Cecil Wray, represented as a disappointed Fury, is seen in the distance; he is soliloquising:-- Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night. _May 11, 1784._ _A Coat of Arms. Dedicated to the Newly-created Earl of Lonsdale._--There is no publisher's name to the plate, which offers a fanciful and by no means flattering design for an appropriate coat of arms and supporters, gratuitously presented for the use of Sir James Lowther, _the newly-created Earl of Lonsdale_. Two ragged and semi-clad Volunteers, the one minus his _culottes_, the other without shoes, with the initials W. M. on their crossbelts, form the supporters of a shield, above which figures the earl's coronet. There are six quarterings, each filled in with paper scrolls: 'False Musters,' 'False Certificates for Volunteer Companies,' 'False Returns,' 'Retention of Clothing,' 'Contract for building a man-of-war (cancelled and money returned),' and 'Retention of Bounty.' The motto of this suggestive escutcheon is, '_Who doubts it?_' Pitt had obtained his first seat in Parliament (1781) through the influence of Sir James Lowther, described by 'Junius' as 'the contemptuous tyrant of the North.' In 1784, when the King and his Prime Minister deemed it prudent to reward the adherents of their party, and at the same time strengthen the Court influence, by creating a new batch of peers, Pitt repaid his obligation to Lowther (the Duke of Rutland, Pitt's fellow-student at Cambridge, had enlisted Lowther's influence in his favour), by raising him to the House of Peers, under the title of the Earl of Lonsdale, thus overleaping the two inferior stages of the peerage. It might be supposed that this reward would have been commensurate with his pretensions, but Earl Lonsdale's name appearing at the bottom of the list of the newly-created earls published in the _Gazette_, he threatened to reject the earldom, and means were with difficulty found to appease his irritation. The wits of the 'Rolliad' made the most of the circumstance: 'Hints from Dr. Prettyman to the Premier's Porter.--Let Lord Lonsdale have _my Lord_ and _your Lordship_ repeated in his ear as often as possible; the apartment hung with garter blue is proper for his reception.' My lords, my lords, a whisper I desire-- Dame Liberty grows stronger--some feet higher; She will not be bamboozled as of late-- _Aristocrate et la Lanterne_ Are very often cheek by jowl, we learn, Within a certain neigh'b'ring bustling State: I think your lordships and your graces Would not much like to dangle with wry faces. PETER PINDAR'S _Ode to Lord Lonsdale_. _May 11, 1784._ _The Westminster Mendicant._--The rejected candidate for Westminster has been sent forth a wanderer. The figure of Sir Cecil Wray is represented as a blind beggar; he is resting his head and shoulders on a long staff; under his left arm is held a _Subscription Scrutiny Box_, in allusion to the vexatious scrutiny set on foot by his party; and he holds a spaniel by a string; a second begging-box is attached to the dog's collar. The mendicant is issuing a doleful appeal to the public:-- Pity the weak and needy, pray; Oh! pity me; I've lost the day. Above the head of the blind man's dog is the following:-- See here the dog, of all his kind The fittest for a beggar blind: The beast can bark, or growl as hog; His name is Churchill,[26]--oh, the dog! Below the title is engraved:-- Ye Christians, charitable, good, and civil, Pray something give to this poor wandering devil. By men cast out, perhaps by God forgiven, Then may one Judas find a road to heaven. The Irish chairmen--who had played such a conspicuous part in the early riots, where they routed the sailor-mob brought up by Hood to intimidate Fox's voters--had a fling at their discomfited enemy in a 'new' ballad, '_Paddy's Farewell to Sir Cecil_':-- Sir Cecil be aisy, I won't be unshivil; Now the Man of the Paple is chose in your stead; From swate Covent Garden you're flung to the Divil; By Jasus, Sir Cecil, you've bodder'd your head. Fa-ra-lal, &c. To be sure, much avail to you all your fine spaiches; 'Tis nought but palaver, my honey, my dear; While all Charlie's voters stick to him like laiches, A friend to our liberties and our _small beer_. Fa-ra-lal, &c. Ah, now! pray let no jontleman prissent take this ill; By my truth, Pat shall nivir use unshivil werds; But my varse sure must praise, which the name of Sir Cecil Hands down to oblivion's latest records. Fa-ra-lal, &c. If myshelf with the tongue of a prophet is gifted, Oh! I sees in a twinkling the knight's latter ind! Tow'rds the verge of his life div'lish high he'll be lifted, And after his death, never fear, he'll discind. Fa-ra-lal, &c. _May 18, 1784._ _The Westminster Deserter Drumm'd out of the Regiment._--This caricature brings the election scenes in Covent Garden to an end; the Court party is defeated, and the Man of the People has triumphed. Sir Cecil Wray is handcuffed as a deserter, and is being drummed away from the hustings; he is exclaiming, 'Help, Churchill! Jackson, help! or I am lost for ever!' It is worthy of record that Sir Cecil Wray's figure disappears from the caricatures until 1791, when we meet him again with a barrel of small-beer under his arm, assisting the members of the Opposition (whose ranks he rejoined) to carry out the '_hopes of the party_,' as set forth in a famous pictorial satire by Gillray (July 14, 1791). In the _Westminster Deserter_ 'honest Sam House' is drumming away with a will, and Wray is obliged to run the gauntlet of a line of exasperated Chelsea Pensioners, who are expressing a wish that '_all public deserters may feel public resentment_;' a body of maid-servants are marching in the rear, with shovels, mops, and brooms, brought out in readinesss to sweep forth their antagonist. The electioneering mob is divided between hooting the 'Deserter' and applauding the success of the 'Champion of the People,' who is planting the standard of Britannia and manfully acknowledging his gratitude to his supporters: 'Friends and fellow-citizens, I cannot find words to express my feelings to you upon this victory.' Fox's difficulties, as regarded his seat for Westminster and the hostilities of his opponents, the Court party, did not end with the election; the Ministerialists had from the first declared their intention of demanding a scrutiny if Fox succeeded, because it was known that, under the circumstances, this would be a long, tedious, and expensive affair. The returning officer acted partially, and upon Sir Cecil Wray's application for a scrutiny declined to make his return pending the investigation. Fox had secured a seat for Kirkwall, so that he was not hindered from taking his place in the House; and after some months' delay, and a great deal of fighting on both sides, the High Bailiff, Thomas Corbett, was ordered to duly return Charles James Fox as Member for Westminster, as is set forth in a caricature by Rowlandson (_see_ March 1, 1785). Fox subsequently thought proper to bring an action against the High Bailiff, and that functionary in return for his perfidy was cast in heavy damages--a fresh triumph for the Opposition. [Illustration: THE WESTMINSTER DESERTER DRUMM'D OUT OF THE REGIMENT.] _May 18, 1784._ _Secret Influence Directing the New Parliament._--King George III. is complacently seated on his throne; once more reassured on the subject of his Parliament, he is remarking, with self-congratulation, 'I trust we have got such a Parliament as we wanted.' _Secret Influence_ is represented on one side by a huge serpent whispering secret counsel to the monarch. The head of the reptile is that of Lord Temple. Lord Thurlow, on the other side of the throne, still wearing his Chancellor's wig, his body represented as that of a monstrous bird of prey, is observing, with his usual overbearing roughness, 'Damn the Commons! the Lords shall rule,' while the Scotch influence, in the person of Lord Bute, partially concealed behind the throne, is echoing, 'Very gude, very gude; damn the Commons!' Britannia, unconscious of her danger, is calmly reposing, with her elbow resting on her shield, while Fox, who has recognised the dangers which are threatening the liberty of the people, is trying to rouse the slumberer, and crying, 'Thieves, thieves! Zounds, awake, madam, or you'll have your throat cut!' [Illustration: THURLOW. BUTE. GEORGE III. TEMPLE. BRITANNIA. FOX. SECRET INFLUENCE DIRECTING THE NEW PARLIAMENT.] _May 18, 1784._ _Preceptor and Pupil._ Not Satan to the ear of Eve Did e'er such pious counsel give.--MILTON. The Prince of Wales, wearing his plumed hat, has fallen asleep; Fox, now represented as a toad, with a fox's brush for a tail--who has crept from the concealment of some neighbouring sedges--is insinuating pernicious counsel into the ear of the slumberer-- Abjure thy country and thy parents, and I will give thee dominion over Many powers. Better to rule in hell than serve on earth. _May 18, 1784._ _The Departure._--This affecting scene is taking place outside the Prince of Wales's residence; his Royal Highness is watching the departure of his friend from the window. Fox is mounted on a patient ass, ready to ride the road to 'Coventry;' the High Bailiff, having unlawfully refused to make his return until the conclusion of the scrutiny which Sir Cecil Wray thought proper to instigate, the caricaturist hints that, for the time, the Whig leader will be 'left out in the cold' until the question of his return is finally settled. Fox has accordingly rolled up his India Bill, and is taking a doleful farewell of his fair champions, the Duchess of Devonshire and Lady Ducannon, on either side of his steed; the sorrowing ladies are grasping his hand and crying-- Farewell, my Charley!--let no fears assail. Ah, sister, sister, must he, then, depart? To lose poor Reynard almost breaks my heart. Fox is observing, before his departure-- If that a Scrutiny at last takes place, I can't tell how 'twill be, and please your Grace! Burke is standing, equipped as a postilion, in readiness to drive off his ally, with a _plan of economy_ under his arm. _May 25, 1784._ _Liberty and Fame Introducing Female Patriotism to Britannia._ She smiles-- Infused with a fortitude from heaven. SHAKESPEARE'S _Tempest_. This print has nothing of the caricature about it, excepting, perhaps, the unusual spirit, lightness, and ease of execution. All the figures are graceful and elegant, and the attitudes leave nothing to be desired. Britannia is on her throne, the British lion is at her feet, and the ocean, with her ships riding triumphant, is extending as far as can be seen; the figures of _Liberty_ and _Fame_, with their respective attributes, are tripping up to the throne, leading the beautiful Georgiana forward to receive the laurels of victory. _May 20, 1784._ _For the Benefit of the Champion. A catch, to be performed at the New Theatre, Covent Garden. For admission apply to the Duchess. N.B. Gratis to those who wear large tails._ [Illustration: FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE CHAMPION.] The 'catch' is performed by the Duchess of Devonshire, Fox, and Lord North; the grief expressed by the singers is, of course, apocryphal. The Duchess is leading; she wears a Fox favour in her hat, which is further garnished with a fox's brush; she is pointing to a tombstone topped with the death's head and crossbones, and inscribed, 'Here lies poor Cecil Ray.' 'Look, neighbours, look! Here lies poor Cecil Wray.' 'Dead and turned to clay,' sings Fox; to which Lord North adds, 'What! old Cecil Wray?' The sharp profile of Burke is thrust through the door. The pictures hanging round the room are appropriate to the subject: a committee of foxes are wondering over 'The Fox who has lost his tail;' 'The Fox and the Crow,' in which sly Reynard is represented as gazing longingly at the cheese held in the crow's beak; 'Fox and the Grapes,' and 'Fox and Goose.' _May 28, 1784._ _The Petitioning Candidate for Westminster._--Designed according to a note on the plate, by Lord James Manners, and executed by Rowlandson. As we stated in an earlier caricature, due precautions were employed that Fox should not be left without a place in the newly-constituted Parliament, and accordingly in the present print--nearly the last of the series put forth on the Westminster Election for 1784--Fox, with a fox's head and brush, completely dressed in a suit of tartan, is speeding along, on a Highland pony, away from Kirkwall (for which he took his seat) back to London, flourishing his plaid, and crying, 'From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia I come.' We can now take leave of the caricatures called forth on the Westminster Election and continue our review of the remainder of the satirical prints issued by Rowlandson in the course of 1784. _November 2, 1784._ _The Minister's Ass._ Vide _Gazetteer_, November 11, 1784. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--Three mounted figures are shown crossing Wimbledon Common; one gentleman's donkey is speeding along briskly; a gallant lady, mounted on a grey horse, is riding between the two cavaliers and their donkeys; she is giving a friendly cut with her whip at the animal bestridden by her left-hand neighbour--the minister's ass, in fact, which is refusing to gallop forward; the rider is wearing his blue riband. A figure in the rear is endeavouring to reduce the refractory beast to reason with a scientifically administered kick. _December 10, 1784._ _Anticipation of an intended Exhibition, with an excellent new ballad to be sung by a High Character, to the tune of 'The Vicar and Moses.'_ Mark Lane, delin. and fecit. Published by T. Harris, High Street, Marylebone.--This caricature sets forth by anticipation the fate of Christopher Atkinson, M.P., who was sentenced on November 27, 1784, and pilloried November 25, 1785. A print by Gillray (August 12, 1782) gives a view of the trial under the title of '_The Victualling Committee Framing a Report_.' Peter Pindar also makes a poetical allusion to the circumstances. Christopher Atkinson, M.P. for Heydon, Yorkshire, was convicted of peculation in his semi-official capacity as corn-factor to the Victualling Board. He was finally tried at the King's Bench for perjury, found guilty, and expelled from the House of Commons. In Rowlandson's view of the novel situation of the contractor the pillory is raised on the Corn Exchange, and the criminal is standing with his head and hands enclosed in a board, with two dwarf corn-sheaves on either side; the Sheriffs, with a numerous crowd of citizens, are attending the exhibition, which Atkinson does not find to his taste. The sentiments of the pilloried contractor are expounded in a ballad:-- Here stand I, poor soul, With my head in a hole, To be gazed at by all passers by; And what's this about, This racket and rout, But for swearing a mercantile lie! They say that for gain I've a rogue been in grain But what is all that to the point? If all were so serv'd Who, like me, have deserv'd, The State would be soon out of joint. Many agents, I fear, Would have their heads here, And, like me, be expos'd to detractors; What would you do then, For Parliament men, Should any of them be contractors? For my part I rejoice, And with loud, grateful voice Proclaim it to all my beholders; Notwithstanding your scoff, I think I'm well off, That my head is still left on my shoulders. I know it full well, And for once truth will tell, Tho' my speech in this d--d place may falter: Not a session goes by But much less rogues than I Their last contract make with a halter. But as I am quitting I think it is fitting My future pursuits you should know: When I leave the King's Bench I will live with the French; To the devil my country may go. 1784. _John Stockdale, the Bookselling Blacksmith, one of the King's New Friends._ (See _Intrepid Magazine_.)--Old Stockdale, the somewhat notorious publisher of his day, who, like the hero of the last picture, had the honour of standing in the pillory, is shown at his forge, surrounded by hammers and horseshoes, and with a tethered jackass waiting his attentions, as soon as the _Bookselling Blacksmith_ shall have completed the work he has in hand, the somewhat incongruous occupation of hammering out folio volumes on an anvil. SOCIAL CARICATURES. _January 24, 1784._ _A Sketch from Nature._ Published by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street.--This plate is apparently scarce, since the only impression the writer has seen is one in the French National Collection of Engravings, Paris, where the admirer of Rowlandson's works will be gratified to discover a very fair gathering of caricatures by this master, the collection containing certain scarce subjects which it is difficult to find elsewhere, besides several proofs of rare plates. The prints throughout are in capital preservation; in several instances an impression from a rare plate, and a coloured print from the same, are mounted side by side. _A Sketch from Nature_, which is the first and perhaps the best print of the Paris series, is rendered, like most of the plates published by J. R. Smith, exceptionally interesting from the care and delicacy bestowed on the engraving, and the success with which the tender expressions, which Rowlandson knew so well how to throw into the faces of his female beauties, are preserved and transferred to the copper. The subject is engraved in stipple, and, as a print after Rowlandson, it exhibits unusual quality and finish. The subject is somewhat hazardous: a situation borrowed from that inexhaustible epic the _Rake's Progress_, presenting all the license of debauchery, but expressed without coarseness. A mixed party of nymphs and roysterers are performing bacchanalian orgies; the 'Lady Abbess' has succumbed to her potations, and is slumbering heavily in her armchair. Punch and wine are flowing indiscriminately; a poodle has come in for the contents of a punch-glass, which is overturned, and a man in tipsy wantonness is upsetting a punch-bowl over the dog's head. The arms of a sweetly pretty Bacchante are entwined round the neck of the maudlin reveller. Beside the well-filled table sits a youthful military 'blood;' another nymph, whose adolescent charms are liberally displayed, is seated on the knee of this son of Mars. The young lady is evidently disposed to be frolicsome, since she is flourishing in the air a full-bottomed wig, which she has snatched from the head of a corpulent Silenus, in whom age has failed to bring sober reason or to correct frivolity; this ancient buck is deservedly getting his face scratched and clawed in an amorous struggle with a handsome maiden, dressed in a hat and feathers, who is forcibly repelling the advances of the elderly rake. 1784. _English Curiosity, or the Foreigner Stared out of Countenance._--From this social caricature it seems that some distinguished foreigner was visiting this country in 1784, whose general appearance was exciting more public attention than would be considered polite. The foreigner is dressed in a gay military uniform, and has gone to enjoy himself at the theatre; but the eyes of the audience do little else but stare at his uniform. The identity of this bird of passage is not very positive at this date. The plate, as a whole, is as characteristic and well-drawn an example of Rowlandson's etchings as can be found; the countenances of the spectators are capitally filled in, the various types of theatre-goers are hit off with spirit, and the female faces and figures are rendered with remarkable sweetness. [Illustration: COUNSELLOR AND CLIENT.] 1784. _Counsellor and Client._--A simple citizen has waited on his lawyer with a document; the client is seated, very ill at ease; we can see that he is the person who will suffer; his face expresses perplexity and suspense. The counsellor is, on the contrary, very much at his ease, and is looking over the document confided to him, with a sly and satisfied expression, evidently seeing his way to some 'excellent practice.' _May 4, 1784._ _La Politesse Françoise, or the English Ladies' Petition to His Excellency the Mushroom Ambassador._ Published by H. Humphrey, Bond Street.--The representative of Louis XVI. is all bows and smirks, lace ruffles and cravat, sword, bagwig, and shoe-buckles; he has turned his face away from a bevy of fair English beauties, bejewelled, prodigiously feathered, and wearing long court trains; the ambassador is obdurate to the entreaties of his petitioners. 'Parbleu, mesdames, _vous n'y viendrez pas_.' With clasped hands and bended knees, They humbly sought the Count to please, And begged admission to his house. Not that for him they cared a louse, But wished within his walls to shine, And show those charms they think divine. His Ex. beheld these belles unmov'd-- His back their impudence reproved. _July 24, 1784._ _1784, or the Fashions of the Day._ H. Repton inv., T. Rowlandson fecit.--The Park, with its mixed crowd of fashionable promenaders and pleasure-seekers, has afforded the designer ample scope for the delineation of both grotesque and graceful figures, modishly apparelled. In 1784, while the older generation still clung to the garments characteristic of the earlier Georges, the younger branches rushed into all the latest innovations--costumes which are generally received as distinctive of the end of the last and the beginning of the present century. Thus to the observer of the picturesque the fashions of 1784 offered the external habits of two distinct epochs. Among other features, indicative of the introduction of novelties, the artist has represented the parasol, or more properly the umbrella, then an object likely to occasion remark, as its general use was just coming into fashion. _August 8, 1784._ _The Vicar and Moses._ Published by H. Humphrey, 18 New Bond Street.--A pictorial heading, in Rowlandson's characteristic style, to the famous old song of '_The Vicar and Moses_,' by G. A. Stevens. The Vicar has been dragged unwillingly from his ale-cup, by his clerk, to assist at the burial of a child; the family mourners are waiting in the churchyard, as shown in the picture; Moses, the clerk, has put on his bands and found the parson's place in his book, and he is lighting the erratic footsteps of his patron with a broken candle placed in a horn lantern; as to the rotund dignitary of the Church, he is reeling along reluctantly; he wears his cassock and bands, as was the daily fashion at one time, and his hat is thrust well over his full-bottomed wig, which is somewhat awry; in one hand he retains his faithful pipe, and his tobacco-box is held in the other. The verses, which are tolerably well known, offer a whimsical description of how the Vicar, who happened to be _non si ipse_ (_i.e._ 'the parson was tipsy'), having been disturbed at his meditations over a pot of ale, was informed that he was required to read the burial service over the body of one of his flock; the pastor felt strongly inclined to remain where he was, and proposed to postpone the ceremonial. Then Moses reply'd: 'Sir, the parish will chide For keeping them out in cold weather.' 'Then, Moses,' quoth he, 'Go and tell 'em from me I'll bury them warm all together!' 'But, sir, it rains hard; Pray have some regard.' 'Regard! ay, 'tis that makes me stay, For no corpse, young or old, In rain can catch cold; But faith, Moses, you and I may!' Moses begg'd he'd be gone, Saying, 'Sir, the rain's done; Arise, and I'll lend you my hand.' 'It's hard,' quoth the Vicar, 'To leave thus my liquor-- To go when I'm sure I can't stand.' At length, tho' so troubled, To the churchyard he hobbled, Lamenting the length of the way. Then 'Moses,' said he, 'Were I a Bishop, d'ye see, I need neither walk, preach, or pray!' The whole composition is more humorous than reverential, but it indicates the taste of the period, according to the last lines:-- 'And thus we have carried the farce on: The taste of the times Will relish our rhymes, When the ridicule runs on a parson.' _November 1, 1784._ _New-Invented Elastic Breeches._ Designed by Nixon. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by W. Humphrey. _November 8, 1784._ _Money-Lenders._--A young nobleman is receiving the visits of certain usurers. One Hebrew gentleman, the principal, or 'capitalist,' is dressed with a certain attention to the fashion of the day, which proves that he is by no means an insignificant member of the money-lending fraternity. A deed or bond, the security on which the young spendthrift is expecting an advance, is being duly examined by a more miserly-looking Shylock--'a little Jew-broker,' in fact. As to the borrower, it is clearly indicated that he is quite at his ease in the transaction; it seems evident that whatever money he may raise (regardless of the sacrifices to which he submits in obtaining it) will be quickly thrown to the winds, and 'the dose will have to be repeated as before' until his resources are exhausted. [Illustration: MONEY-LENDERS.] _September 25, 1784._ _Bookseller and Author._--A characteristic drawing, in Rowlandson's best recognised style, bearing the name of Henry Wigstead as inventor, published by J. R. Smith. The persons of the publisher and author present the marked and conventional extreme contrasts which the two spheres of life were supposed to suggest--the one gross and prosperous, the other meagre and miserable. The scene of the interview may be assumed to be the back-shop of the bookseller; it is fitted around with shelves lined with books. The trader is stout and solid; his spectacles are thrust up on his forehead, his pen is behind his ear, and his hands are held beneath his coat-tails, in a self-assertive attitude, implying well-to-do pomposity. Wigstead, whose name is associated with authorship (although his professional position as a magistrate exempted him from the sufferings of a struggling literary hack), has painted the professional gentleman in no flattering colours; the man of letters is wretchedly lean in person, and abjectly subservient in manner to the trafficker who is buying his ideas; his hat is held respectfully under his arm, and his manuscript, which he is endeavouring to recommend to his patron, is in his hand. One of the bookseller's clients, a respectable Church dignitary, who is looking through the library, with great owl-like horn spectacles on his reverend nose, is present at the interview, and is regarding the poor literary hack with an air of inflated superiority. 1784. _London, Made and Sold by Broderip and Wilkinson, 13 Haymarket._--A plate for a trade advertisement, introducing the figures Apollo, Daphne, &c., drawn and etched with considerable grace and spirit. Among Rowlandson's renderings of the works of other men we may mention a sketch after T. Mortimer, etched by T. R., 1784. This study portrays the back view of an Italian or Spanish peasant woman, playing the flute. 1784. _The Historian Animating the Mind of a Young Painter._--This subject represents the painting-room of a young artist, furnished with a drawing-table, an easel, a couple of chairs, a settee, and a bust, while a few sketches of figure subjects are pinned on the walls. The painter, who is a well-favoured youth, is seated with his back to his easel, on which is a classic study in course of execution. His palette is on the ground, and he is holding a crayon in one hand, and a folio, which is serving as his drawing-board, in the other, ready to dash down his conceptions as soon as his imagination is sufficiently inspired by the effects of his friend's readings. The learned historian, whose hat and gloves are at his feet, wears a full-bottomed wig and large round rimmed spectacles. His appearance is somewhat clerical, and he is evidently filled with enthusiasm for the subject on which he is declaiming, book in hand. The limner's wife, in a morning dress, is seated by the fire, amusing her infant son, who is standing on her knee in a nude state, the infant being probably impressed into the service of the fine arts as the model for a cherubim. No publisher's name is given on this plate, which is delicately rendered. 1784. The print of a group of three figures; in the centre is a pretty simple maiden, whose face wears an artless expression, such as Rowlandson excelled in delineating, seated in an armchair, and grasping the hand of a youth, who has opened a vein in his arm, while another maid, in a morning cap and dress, is lending her assistance. The name of R. Batty has been given in MS. as 'sculpsit.' Both the drawing of the figures and the style of the etching are strongly indicative of Rowlandson's handiwork. 1784. _Rest from Labour on Sunny Days._ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson.--A peasant is sitting in an easy attitude perched upon the ruins of a temple, playing the flute; a pretty peasant maid is leaning beside him, with her dog at her feet. Etching and aquatinta. 1784. _Billingsgate._--All the humours of this famous academy of slang are displayed. The fish-selling fags have their baskets planted in rows in front of the landing-place. The hampers of the porters and the masts of ships are seen beyond. The Billingsgate hawkers are offering their fish vociferously for sale, getting drunk, and generally behaving in the disorderly style attributed to them. A gouty customer, evidently an epicure, who has come to select a turbot for his table, is seized unceremoniously by his wig and coat-tails and tripped up in the exertions of a fishfag aided by her urchin to arrest the passer, and call attention to certain goods she is holding out for inspection. 1784. _Miller's Waggon._ 1784. _A Timber Waggon._ Published by E. Jackson, 14 Marylebone Street, Golden Square. 1784. _Country Cart Horses._ " 1784. _Dray Horses. Draymen and Maltsters._ " 1784. _Higglers' Carts._ " 1784. _A Post-chaise._ " 1784. _A Cabriolet._ " _Rowlandson's Imitations of Modern Drawings._ Folio. 1784-88. F. Wheatley A Coast Scene, fishermen, fisherwomen, &c. " A Companion " Gainsborough A Sketch; trees, cottages, &c. " Cattle, river side. F. Wheatley A Fair. Bartolozzi A Pair of Cupids. Barret and Gilpin Mares and Foals. " Cattle. Gainsborough Landscape sketch. Mortimer A Storm at Sea. Gainsborough Cows. Zucchi Harmony. Two nymphs singing, another playing a lyre. Mortimer The Philosopher. Barret Ruins, and a Park. Mortimer A Study. Barret Ruins, &c. Gainsborough A Cottage, &c. " An Open Landscape. Mortimer Scene in 'The Tempest,' from Shakespeare. Republished 1801. J. P. Thompson, Soho. G. Barret Lake Scene. Saurey Gilpin, R.A. Horses. G. Holmes The Sage and his Pupil. Michael Angelo Leda and the Swan. G. B. Cipriani Sleeping Venus and Love. FOOTNOTES: [24] 'General Johnson reminded Mr. Fox that he had undertaken to bring in another East India Bill. Mr. Fox did not deny that he had said he could have his Bill ready within a day or two--he said so still; but, as there was not, at present, any Government--any strong, and efficient, and constitutional Government--he thought it would be absurd to enter on the discussion of any measure; since, whatever it might be, it would not be carried into execution.'--_Morning Post_, Feb. 9, 1784. [25] Lord Thurlow, whose private life, if we may believe the caricaturists, was not of the purest. [26] In several of the caricatures directed against Wray the discomfited candidate is invoking the assistance of Churchill, who was, however, apparently unable to offer his patron any effectual aid. 1785. _January 7, 1785._ _The Fall of Achilles._--It was evident from the first that the chances of the members of the late Coalition Ministry returning to power were weakened in the new Parliament, and it soon became obvious that, even as an Opposition, their party was without either weight or influence. Fox in looking round the recently elected House found himself surrounded by country gentlemen, Pitt's following, whose faces were unfamiliar to him. Pitt was firmly settled, the unquestioned master of the situation. It is the youthful Premier who has come forth, in the character of Paris it is presumed, with a bow and a quiver of arrows, the better to shoot Whiggism on the wing; he has just sent a bolt straight into the flying Opposition; the arrow has lodged in the heel of the mighty Fox, who is represented double the size of his triumphant adversary. Thus do I strive with heart and hand To drive sedition from the land! The Whig chief is disabled, in spite of his armour, and he is lying at the mercy of the enemy. There is nought but a place or a pension will ease The strain that I've got in my tendon Achilles. The turns of North and Burke seem likely to follow; the prostrate form of Fox is tripping up his friend's retreat; North's sword and buckler seem of no service to him; he is crying in perplexity-- This curs'd eternal Coalition Has brought us to a rare condition. Burke is trying to make good his escape. Before thy arrows, Pitt, I fly; I d--n that word _prolixity_. _January 24, 1785._ _Mock-Turtle._ Published by S. W. Fores. _March 2, 1785._ _The Golden Apple, or the Modern Paris._ Published by J. Phillips, Piccadilly.--The Prince of Wales is represented in the enviable position of Paris, deciding between the respective attractions of the three Duchesses, Rutland, Devonshire, and Gordon, the rival luminaries whose brilliancy dazzled society, and whose beauties graced the Court of the Prince of Wales. A gallant songster of the day has perpetuated the charms of this dazzling trio in the following lines, appropriate to Rowlandson's agreeably-expressed cartoon:-- Come, Paris, leave your hills and dells; You'll scorn your dowdy goddesses, If once you see our English belles, For all their gowns and bodices. Here's Juno Devon, all sublime; Minerva Gordon's wit and eyes; Sweet Rutland, Venus in her prime: You'll die before you give the prize. _March, 1785._ _The Admiring Jew._ (Etched 1784.) Published by T. Smith, 6 Wardour Street, Soho.--An old Jew, who is evidently a man of substance, but awkward, ugly, and ill-bred, is twiddling his fingers and thumbs and pouring soft persuasions into the ear of a handsome and well-dressed lady, who is apparently a person of fashion. [Illustration: THE DEFEAT OF THE HIGH AND MIGHTY BALISSIMO CORBETTINO AND HIS FAMED CECILIAN FORCES, ON THE PLAINS OF ST. MARTIN, ON THURSDAY, THE 3RD DAY OF FEBRUARY, 1785, BY THE CHAMPION OF THE PEOPLE AND HIS CHOSEN BAND. After a smart skirmish, which lasted a considerable time, in which many men were lost on both sides. But their great ally, at length losing ground, desertions took place, and notwithstanding their vast superiority in numbers and weight of metal at the first onset, this increased apace, altho' often rallied by the ablest man in command, till at length the forces gave way in all quarters and they were totally overthrown. This print is dedicated to the Electors of the City and Liberty of Westminster, who have so nobly stood forth and supported their champion upon this trying occasion, by AN INDEPENDENT ELECTOR. _March 7, 1785._ _Defeat of the high and mighty Balissimo Corbettino and his famed Cecilian Forces_, on the plains of St. Martin, on Thursday, the 3rd day of February, 1785, by the Champion of the People and his Chosen Band.--Fox, at the head of his party, whose arms are legal weapons, such as _Law_, _Eloquence_, _Perseverance_, and _Truth_, is routing and putting to flight the combined forces of his opponents, led by Sir Cecil Wray and the High Bailiff, Corbett. At the Westminster Election it will be remembered, Fox had gained the victory over his antagonists; and the Scrutiny, moved for by Sir Cecil Wray, being concluded, the proper return was directed to be made; and, as we have mentioned, the successful candidate brought an action and recovered heavy damages against the High Bailiff (who had made himself the tool of the Ministerialists). Fox is protected by his buckler, inscribed 'Majority 38;' he is sweeping away the 'Cecilian forces' with the sword of 'Justice;' a laurel crown is placed on his brow by a celestial messenger, who is also charged with the decision of the Court--'It is ordered that Thomas Corbett, Esq., do immediately return.' Fox is declaring, 'The wrath of my indignation is kindled, and I will pursue them with a mighty hand and outstretched arm until justice is done to those who have so nobly supported me.' Sir Cecil Wray's shield of _Ingratitude_ is no defence, and his weapon has snapped short; he is crying in despair, 'My knees wax feeble, and I sink beneath the weight of my own apostacy!' The High Bailiff is thrown down; he confesses, 'My conscience is now at peace;' an ally is crying, 'Help, help! our chief is fallen. O conscience, support me!' Corbett's lawyers have turned their backs on the cause of the client: 'Nor law, nor conscience, nor the aid of potent Ministers, can e'er support the contest 'gainst such a chief!' 'Our support is gone and we are fallen into a Pitt; yea, even into a deep Pitt!' _March 27, 1785._ _The surprising Irish Giant of St. James's Street. 'The surprising Irish Colossus, King of the Giants, measuring eight feet ten inches; noble Order of St. Patrick, &c.'_--The figure of the famous Irish Giant is drawn with skill and originality by Rowlandson. The person of this colossus, although gigantic, is graceful, and his proportions are such that the spectators who surround him are apparently dwarfed to half the usual standard. The giant's right hand is resting on the head of a military commander, the tallest man in the room, who, while standing bolt upright, does not reach much above the waistband of the Irish mammoth. Another officer, while standing on tiptoe on a chair, is still a full third short of the height of the prodigy. The ladies are struck with wonder at such gigantic limbs, and one of them is comparing her tiny foot with the large and well-proportioned member of the giant; while some of the audience are investing themselves in his top-boots. The skeleton of this remarkable person is preserved in the Hunterian Museum, College of Surgeons. 'Mr. Lynn related to-day that the surgeons, in spite of the vigilance of the Irish Giant's friends, obtained the body for dissection. They made several attempts to bury it in the Thames, or to convey it to Dover. But the body-hunters were too keen for all they aimed at; and after keeping the corpse fourteen days they sold it to John Hunter for 100_l._ The heart was preserved, and was very large.... The stature of the skeleton measures eight feet two inches.'--'MS. Journal of Captain E. Thompson, R.N.' (_Cornhill Magazine_, May 1868.) _April 12, 1785._ _The Wonderful Pig._ Published S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The artist has given a grotesque representation of the learned hog, spelling his words before a delighted audience; the individual characteristics of the spectators are capitally diversified; their actions and groupings are, as usual, marked with vivacity. According to a placard over the mantel-piece of the hall in which this intellectual entertainment was offered we learn: 'The surprising pig, well versed in all languages, perfect arithmetician, mathematician, and composer of music.' _May 27, 1784._ Verses published 1785. _The Waterfall, or an Error in Judgment._ Published by Wallis, Ludgate Hill. The coxcomb, student, and attorney vile, Jew bail and tipstaff, added to the pile; All rush in terror, or from gain or sport, And headlong tumble down the steps of Court. The incident on which this print was founded occurred, according to the magazines, &c., in 1785; and, as numerous illustrations appeared at the time, it seems that the artist has put the date of the year wrongly. _The Waterfall_ represents the Court of King's Bench in an uproar. The members of the Bench and the Bar, counsellors, attorneys, and clients, suitors and witnesses, are taking to flight indiscriminately, trampling over one another in their precipitate retreat, tumbling down the stairs of Westminster Hall, while robes, wigs, and briefs are lost in the struggle. Rowlandson's illustration of this scene of consternation is used as the heading for a song to the tune of '_The Roast Beef of Old England_.' According to the song the recitative relates:-- 'Twas at the Hall of Rufus, Woodfall tells, Where brawling, sneering Discord ever dwells; Where honest men despond, where tricking thrives, And Law against plain Reason ever strives, A sudden fright seiz'd all the black-rob'd race, And inward horror mark'd each hideous face. A maiden appear'd on the roof of the Hall, And, washing a window, her water let fall, Which frighten'd the mighty, the short, and the tall. Oh, the clean maid of Westminster! And, oh, the clean Westminster maid! Her trickling of water made such a sad noise, It threw the Court into a horrid surprise; All feeling alike--alike they all rise. Oh, the stout hearts of the lawyers! And, oh, the lawyers' stout hearts! They thought that the roof was all coming down; And knowing how much they deserv'd Heaven's frown, All hasten'd, with loss of wig, band, and gown, Out of the Court of Westminster, And out of Westminster Court. The Serjeants were wounded in limbs, nose, and eye; Like leaves of the Sibyls their briefs scattered lie A sight very pleasant to all standers-by. Oh, the torn robes of the Benchers! And, oh, the Benchers' torn robes! For Ruspini's Styptic some half-dozen run; But the crowd stayed to laugh and enjoy the high fun; All hop'd the long thread of the Law was now spun. Oh, what a joy to Old England! And, oh, to Old England what joy! But Heaven, to punish this half-ruin'd nation, Permitted again each to take his old station, The people to gall with the deepest vexation. Oh, what a grief to Old England! And, oh, to Old England what grief! 1785. _Comfort in the Gout._ (See July 1, 1802.) Republished 1802. _June 28, 1785._ _Vauxhall Gardens._ Engraved by R. Pollard, aquatinted by F. Jukes. Published by John Raphael Smith.--It will be remembered by the reader that, in the earlier part of this sketch of _Rowlandson's Life, Works, and Times_, special reference is made by the artist's friend and the frequent companion of his adventures, Henry Angelo, to their expeditions to Vauxhall Gardens to study character. The varied humours discovered at this popular resort employed Rowlandson's pencil frequently, as we are told in the _Memoirs_. It seems, on the authority of those who were most intimate with the caricaturist, and who were also thoroughly well acquainted with the leading examples of his skill, that _Vauxhall Gardens_ may be accepted as his _chef d'oeuvre_ in the general estimation. We can compare it to his drawing of the _Tuileries Gardens_, which is even fuller of diversified groups. In the famous picture of _Vauxhall_ we have the Rotunda, a marvellous construction, built from the designs of an inventive carpenter, a modest genius, who obtained a certain celebrity for his ingenuity.[27] 'The gilded scallop-shell,' described by Thackeray in the Vauxhall episode which is introduced in the opening of _Vanity Fair_, was as it appeared within the writer's recollection, a melancholy, tawdry substitute for the vanished splendours as noted in Rowlandson's drawing. A portly lady, standing in front of the orchestra, is warbling ballads to the highly genteel company, the patrons of the entertainment; of the performers we are able to offer but scanty particulars. [Illustration: COMFORT IN THE GOUT.] The figure of the fair vocalist is evidently intended for that of Mrs. Weichsel, a Vauxhall favourite, already mentioned as the mother of the great Mrs. Billington, the pride of English operatic celebrities. It was at Mrs. Weichsel's benefit, which Rowlandson attended at 'the little theatre in the Haymarket,' that our artist produced a sketch of this musical family. To return to Vauxhall, Angelo and other informants supply us with a hint or two of the company. Daniel Arrowsmith was engaged as one of the principal singers, 'where Mrs. Kennedy and that capital bass, Sedgwick, entertained the public for several seasons.' Joe Vernon, of Drury Lane Theatre, is mentioned among the performers. Barthelemon was leader of the band; Fisher played the hautboy; and Mr. Hook was conductor and composer. To describe the visitors: the most conspicuous figures, which occupy the centre of the picture, and are exciting the admiring regards of the frequenters of Vauxhall scattered around them, are understood to be intended for the fascinating Duchess of Devonshire and her sister, Lady Duncannon. Among the 'freaks of folly' recorded by our invaluable authority Angelo he mentions having frequently 'seen many of the nobility, particularly the Duchess of Devonshire, &c. (the '&c.' expressing a whole crowd of fashionable notorieties), with a large party, supping in the rooms facing the orchestra, French horns playing to them all the time.' Captain Topham, the macaroni-scribbler of fashionable intelligence and genteel scandalmonger to _The World_, a newspaper of which he was conjointly proprietor, editor, and principal contributor, is standing upright as a post, dressed in a smart uniform, and quizzing the fair through his glass. A stout old Commander, stranded on shore, with only one eye and one leg left from his naval glories, is planted, lost in admiration, on the Duchess's right. This gallant veteran is understood to represent Admiral Paisley, the reputed original, according to the caricaturist, who has drawn his portrait more than once, of '_The Tough Old Commodore_'-- Why, the bullets and the gout Have so knocked his hull about, That he'll never like the sea any more! A clerical person over the shoulder of Lady Duncannon is a free rendering, it is hinted, of Bate Dudley, who was the hero of a somewhat notorious Vauxhall adventure. By the side of the reverend sable-clad editor of the _Morning Post_ stands a handsome figure, dressed in full Highland costume, with a veritable claymore under his arm, of which the bearer was reported to well know the use; this gentleman's person is reported to be introduced as a compliment to another editor, James Perry, of the _Morning Chronicle_, who was, Angelo relates, very expert with the Highland broadsword, its exercise being his favourite diversion; 'he might be frequently met at masquerades and places of entertainment, dressed in the costume of a Highlander, with a party of Scotch lassies, dancing Scotch reels. For variety of steps, Highland flings, &c., he was particularly noted; crowds collected round him.' Another conspicuous group introduces the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Fourth, then a sweet youth, whose persuasions were supposed to be irresistible, and 'whose smile was victory;' he is represented whispering soft flatteries in the ear of a not unwilling fair, whose right hand is held captive under the arm of a gentleman, presumably her better half. This tender situation is reported to indicate a well-known episode in the career of the Heir Apparent, which, although somewhat threadbare, still retains an air of romance. 'Prince Florizel,' wearing his brilliant star on his breast, is addressing himself covertly to the most conspicuous figure of the party, the captivating Mrs. Robinson by general acceptation, the graceful _Perdita_, in connection with whom, as the artist has drawn him, the Prince is said to have Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again. The lady is coyly trifling with a trinket suspended by a chain round her shapely throat, possibly the identical locket affectingly alluded to by the 'British Sappho' (as not impartial admirers subsequently dubbed the fair poetess) in her Memoirs; this _gage d'amour_, which is almost historical in the chronicle of small affections, containing Prince George's portrait, then a handsome, fine-complexioned youth, with a profusion of fair hair, as painted in miniature by Meyer, was presented in an early stage of the flirtation to the lady, through Lord Malden, the _Leporello_ of the transaction. Within the case of this tribute of tenderness was a heart, appropriately cut in paper, on one side of which was inscribed, '_Je ne change qu'en mourant_;' and on the other, '_Unalterable to my Perdita through life_;' a lover's protestation which was not remarkably verified by the subsequent inconstancy of the impressible _Florizel_. Within a supper-box--one of those grotesque-looking cabinets which many who have visited the shades of Vauxhall may still bear in vivid remembrance--is assembled another convivial party, the members of which have been described--we are inclined to suspect without any sufficiently valid foundation--as the representatives of an illustrious and very familiar literary coterie. A stout personage, in the centre, of massive proportions, has been adopted as a free rendering of the person of the famous Doctor Johnson, who is pictured as characteristically intent on his supper, and indifferent alike to his company and the sprightly society which surrounds his box; seated in a corner, on the great lexicographer's left, anecdotic Boswell is shown, pausing, open-mouthed, to catch the good things that may fall from his eminent leader; Mrs. Thrale, on Johnson's right, is saying something very pertinent to Oliver Goldsmith, who is endeavouring to carve the contents of his plate. His stolid features do not express anything approaching to rapturous appreciation of the accomplished blue-stocking's extraordinary flow of bewitching conversation. Before we leave the attractive vicinity of _Vauxhall Gardens_, as its picturesque humours were noted by an able hand a century ago, we must offer a few traits of the delightful old haunt and the wicked ways of its frequenters. Our inexhaustible informant Angelo is considerate enough to enlighten our more repressive generation on the practices of the period. The dashers of the day, instead of returning home in the morning from Vauxhall, used to repair to the Star and Garter, at Richmond; and, on some occasions, the madcap excursions were pushed farther. Angelo mentions a party of which he had formed a member, when, while crossing Westminster Bridge, the sight of a boat suggested a fresh act of extravagant frolic, no less than being rowed to the Tower, taking places, and straightway setting off in the famous hoy for the sea-trip to Margate, which in those times was quite a journey. We have already introduced a certain witty and pugilistic divine; let us avail ourselves of Angelo's remembrances of an incident in his career, the scene of which belongs to the print we have been endeavouring to elucidate for our readers. Parson Bate--better known by this _soubriquet_ than by his later title as Sir Bate Dudley--who was at the time editor of the _Morning Post_, obtained the nickname of the _Fighting Parson_, from a memorable affray in Vauxhall Gardens. The particulars of the _fracas_ are thus related in the _Reminiscences_:--'Mr. Parson Bate, as magnificent a piece of humanity, perhaps, as ever walked arm-in-arm with a fashionable beauty in the illuminated groves of Vauxhall, was promenading and chatting, with the celebrated Mrs. Hartley,[28] her Woodstock glove gently rubbing against his sable sleeve; when Mr. Fitzgerald (who was subsequently hanged in Ireland for certain malpractices), in company with Lord Littleton and Captain O'Bourne, most ungallantly gave offence to the lady and her protector by severally turning short round upon her and, with the most marked rudeness, staring in her face. This offensive behaviour was resented by Mr. Bate, and, if my memory does not deceive me, he chastised the offenders on the spot.' Mr. Bate's paper, _The Morning Post_, obtained much celebrity by the exposure of the three gentlemen for their rude attack upon a lady. The _rencontre_ begot a paper war, which was, for some weeks, maintained with great rancour on both sides; but the superior wit and powerful satire of Parson Bate were so manifest that his opponents were beaten out of the literary arena. 'Subsequent proceedings led to a meeting of the parties at a tavern, where, it seems, some explanation was entered into and an apology was offered. This, as appeared later on, was a discreditable stratagem on the part of the aggressors to revenge themselves on this redoubtable priest, by procuring for him, as they anticipated, a sound drubbing; they had, however, once more mistaken their man. 'These three confederates met according to appointment, and Mr. Bate brought his friends too. A strapping spark was then introduced to the party as Captain----, who had been prompted to insult the pugnacious reverend, with the hope of provoking him to a personal attack, as at Vauxhall. This mock captain was a well-known prize-fighter. The parson, not at all daunted by the insolent threats of the ruffian, fell upon him, and with his own weapons, so completely thrashed him that he was taken away almost senseless in a hackney-coach.' A farewell incident of Vauxhall, and we will leave for good the precincts memorable in the history of the past. This time we are carried to the _rendezvous_ with Angelo and his friends in company with the most incorrigible blades of the town. 'Lord Barrymore's fondness for eccentricities ever engaged his mind. Whether in London or Wargrave 'twas all the same--always in high spirits, thinking of what fun he should have during the day. Seated, after dinner, at eleven o'clock, on one of the hottest evenings in July, he proposed that the whole party should go to Vauxhall. 'The carriage being ordered, it was directly filled inside; and the others outside, with more wine than wit, made no little noise through the streets. 'We had not been long at Vauxhall when Lord Barrymore called out to a young clergyman, some little distance from us, who, when he approached and was asked, "Have you had any supper?" to our surprise answered, "Vy, as how, my lord, I have not as yet had none." A waiter passing by at the time, Lord Barrymore said, "You know me; let that gentleman have whatever he calls for;" when he told the parson to fall to, and call for as much arrack punch as he pleased. "Thank ye, my lord," said he, "for I begins to be hungry, and I don't care how soon I pecks a bit." 'Lord Barrymore had that morning, unknown to us, contrived to dress Tom Hooper, the tin-man (one of the first pugilists of that time), as a clergyman, to be in waiting at Vauxhall, in case we should get into any dispute. This fistic knight now filled the place of a lackey, and was constantly behind the carriage, a sworn votary of black eyes and disfigured faces. His black clothes, formal hat, hair powdered and curled round, so far disguised him that he was unknown to us all at first, though Hooper's queer dialect must have soon discovered him to the waiters. This was a _ruse de guerre_ of Lord Barrymore's. About three o'clock, whilst at supper, Lord Falkland, Henry Barry, Sir Francis Molineux, &c., were of our party; there was at this time a continual noise and rioting, and the arrack punch was beginning to operate. 'On a sudden all were seen running towards the orchestra, the whole garden seemed to be in confusion, and our party, all impatience, sallied out, those at the further end of the box walking over the table, kicking down the dishes. It seems that the effects of the punch had not only got into Hooper's head but had excited an influence over his fists, for he was for fighting with everybody. A large ring was made, and, advancing in a boxing attitude, he offered to fight anyone; but all retired before him. Felix McCarthy, a tall, handsome Irishman, well known by everybody at that time, soon forced his way through the crowd and collared him, at the same time saying, "You rascal, you are Hooper, the boxer; if you do not leave the garden this instant I'll kick you out." The affrighted crowd, who before retreated as he approached them, now came forward, when Hooper, finding himself surrounded, and hearing a general cry of "Kick him out!" made his retreat as fast as possible, thus avoiding the fury of those who would not have spared him out of the gardens, if he had been caught. We found him at five in the morning behind Lord Barrymore's carriage, with the coachman's great-coat on, congratulating himself upon having avoided the vengeance of those to whom, a short time previously, he had been an object of fear.' _July 24, 1785._ _The Slang Society._ _August 11, 1785._ _Introduction._--There is hardly sufficient authority to warrant the editor in directly ascribing this print to Rowlandson; the work is evidently early, and very French in the characteristics of costumes, surroundings, and subject. There are points in the etched outline and in the general spirit and method of execution, which lead to the impression that Rowlandson is at least answerable for the etching and mezzotinting of the design. From the costumes worn by the figures the date of the subject may be assumed to be some time before the French Revolution. An overdressed old abbess, her head and shoulders enveloped in a cardinal, is introducing a French peer, who is toothless and decrepit, to a tall and fashionably-attired beauty, who is rising to receive the visitor with an air of dignified modesty. [Illustration: AËROSTATION OUT AT ELBOWS, OR THE ITINERANT AËRONAUT.] _September 5, 1785._ _Aërostation out at Elbows, or the Itinerant Aëronaut._ _Vincent Lunardi._ Behold a hero, comely, tall, and fair! His only food is philogistic air! Now on the wings of mighty winds he rides! Now torn through hedges! dash'd in ocean tides! Now drooping roams about from town to town, Collecting pence to inflate his poor Balloon. Pity the wight and something to him give, To purchase gas to keep his frame alive! 1785. _Going, a-going._--A handsome young huntsman has encountered, in the course of his sport, a pretty country maiden, neatly apparelled, and beaming with all the freshness of rustic simplicity and artlessness. Her budding charms are tempting the youth to court the maiden, to her own manifest embarrassment; meanwhile the gay Lothario's huntsman is shown in the distance 'going' off with the horses: the young squire's hunting, as far as the chase of the fox is concerned, being evidently finished for the day. 1785. _Gone!_ [Illustration: TOO MANY FOR A JEW.] _September 30, 1785._ _Too Many for a Jew._ Published by S. Alken, Soho. _October 1, 1785._ _An Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful._ Published by T. Cornell, Bruton Street.--A ragged enthusiast, who, as we gather from the shoe half-thrust into his coat-pocket, combines the cure of human souls with the cobbling of leather soles, is holding forth to a devout congregation. [Illustration: AN ESSAY ON THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL.] The companion print to this caricature is called _The Maiden Speech_, and represents a Member, on the floor of the House, favouring the representatives of the people therein assembled with their first experience of his oratorical powers within the Parliamentary walls. _October 5, 1785._ _Captain Epilogue_ (Major Topham, Editor of 'The World') _to the Wells_ (Mrs. Wells). (See March 7, 1786.) _Col. Topham endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman._ (See December 1784.) To what, O Muse! can I compare In heaven, water, earth, or air! The furious Epilogue. His dress to ape, if ape they can, Of every fop is now the plan, And he's alone the vogue. See to the side-box now he flies, The optic to his eye applies To aid his _piercing_ sight; Whate'er he cannot comprehend His _fiat_ to the Shades shall send, And damn to endless night. Should Holman _Garrick's_ art display, 'Tis twaddle, boreish, damn'd _outré_, Quite vulgar, unrefin'd; His Wells and Henderson alone Possess'd of merit will he own; To others' worth is blind. [Illustration: COL. TOPHAM ENDEAVOURING WITH HIS SQUIRT TO EXTINGUISH THE GENIUS OF HOLMAN.] The macaroni Col. Topham, held in leading strings by Henderson and Mrs. Wells, is vainly trying, armed with a critical squirt, to suppress the rising celebrity of Holman, the actor, and writer for the stage. Holman, it will be remembered (see life of Rowlandson), was one of the caricaturist's schoolfellows. _October 5, 1785._ _Captain Epilogue._ Republished March 7, 1786, by E. Jackson, 14 Marylebone Street, Golden Square.--The figure of Captain Topham, (afterwards Colonel) of the _World_ newspaper, of which he was proprietor, editor, critic, and scandalmonger--the fashionable intelligencer, _arbiter elegantiarum_, and man of fashion and gallantry. We find the macaroni soldier and journalist a prominent personage in the satirical effusions of his time; we recognise him among Gillray's caricatures as the _Thunderer_ (August 20, 1782), and later as the _Windmill_, standing forth advocating the interests of Mrs. Robinson, the _Perdita_ who, deserted by the Prince of Wales, found, it was hinted, refuge in the championship of _Captain Epilogue_. In another cartoon Major Topham is bringing his lengthy accounts to Pitt's pay-table, 'for puffs and squibs,' the literary services which he had placed at the Ministerial disposal, and directed against the Whig candidate, Lord John Townshend, during the Westminster Election (August 14, 1788), which occurred when Lord Hood was appointed to the Treasury Board. We find the gallant quill attacking merit where it crossed his partialities, and the present caricature seems designed to expose the Captain's _tendresse_ for the actress of his choice. Epilogue is dressed, as he is always represented, in the height of the latest French fashion, his coat, his stockings, his pumps, his frill and ruffles, and his wig and queue being the very latest importations from Paris; a finger-post is pointing to the _Wells_, and the somewhat suggestive and highly modish figure of the lady is drawn below it. 1785. _A Cully Pillaged._ (Same date as _Comfort in Gout_.)--A stalwart-looking bully has suddenly burst into an apartment; he has seized and is securely holding an alarmed individual, whose hat is thrown off and his wig is knocked awry; his pigtail is rigid with terror; he is standing on tiptoe, his limbs paralysed with fear, while a very picturesque-looking Cyprian, with hair and dress in somewhat dishevelled condition, is deliberately exploring the pockets of the victim. 1785. _Copper-plate Printers at Work._--This sketch, which is vastly interesting, is probably drawn from the room in which the caricaturist's etchings were pulled, an apartment evidently near the sky. A couple of stalwart printers are hard at work rubbing ink into the copper-plates. A sturdy workman is turning the press, while a little oddity of a printer is drawing an impression from the copper lately under pressure. A connoisseur, in spectacles, of the old-fashioned type, is holding up a print at arm's length with a deeply critical expression on his sharp features. Numerous prints are hung up to dry on lines stretched across the chamber. _About 1785._ _A Bed-warmer._--Another print, which was published about this date, bears the name of H. Wigstead as _delt. et fecit_; but, by a strange anomaly, although a few strokes of the outline here and there belong to Wigstead's hand, which, from its untutored, straggling style, is easy of recognition, the figures and filling in are unmistakably by Rowlandson, who has paid his friend the compliment of ascribing the entire credit of the composition to his name. The subject represents a bedchamber; clothes, &c., are scattered about the room; a venerable libertine, whose bed has evidently been recently warmed, is endeavouring to retain by her skirt a remarkably handsome and sprightly-looking chambermaid, whose figure is gracefully expressed in Rowlandson's most felicitous manner, both as regards ease and action. The offended nymph is making off with the chamber candle and the warming-pan, the latter a formidable weapon for the defence of assaulted virtue. 1785. _Temptation._--A companion plate was executed under the same auspices, but the name of H. Wigstead in this instance appears as designer only. It represents a scene of temptation. A decrepit and, as far as years go, venerable libertine is offering certain proposals to a pretty and finely-shaped maiden, who is weighing a purse with an air of indecision, while the vicious dotard is pressing her disengaged hand and leaning on her shoulder. The chamber is evidently the workroom of a cobbler; his bench and a pile of shoes in the foreground have been thrown over by the gambols of a dog and cat. In this case it is easy to see that if the maiden does not retire from the struggle with unstained hands, the elderly reprobate, whose crutch is under his arm, will not come off unscathed, for behind the curtains of the bed, in the shadow of the apartment, which seems to serve as workroom, kitchen, parlour, and bedroom in one, appears the half-concealed and brawny person of the cobbler himself, who is evidently enjoying the prospect of the vengeance which he is about to let fall on the head of the old sinner. 1785. _Grog on Board._ (See Jan. 1794.) Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. 1786. _Tea on Shore._ (See June 1794.) Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _November 24, 1785._ _By Authority Persons and Property Protected._ Published by S. W. Fores.--His Majesty's (G.R.) Royal Mail Coach is in a quandary; one horse is down, and a second is rearing; the hind wheel is off; a fair traveller is sent sprawling on the ground in an attitude which is neither easy nor becoming. An unfortunate passenger has lost his wig, and in seeking to recover it has become jammed in the coach-window. The coachman has lost his balance, and the shock is capsizing his seat; the concussion has discharged the huge blunderbuss borne by the guard through the letter-bags; the mails, and other contents are scattered to the winds by the explosion; and, to cap the misfortune, the lurch has accidentally loosened the trigger of a huge horse-pistol carried in the guard's belt for extra security, and the contents are peppering an unfortunate lady who has fallen on the highway. _November 28, 1785._ _Doctors Differ._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _November 30, 1785._ _The Sad Discovery, or the Graceless Apprentice._ Published by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street. [Illustration: INTRUSION ON STUDY, OR THE PAINTER DISTURBED.] _November 30, 1785._ _Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The studio of an artist, who is somewhat of a macaroni; the painter is hard at his work; on his easel is a classic subject; the principal figure is drawn from a pretty girl, his model, who is 'sitting' before him; a squire and a young foxhunter are dashing in, alike disregardful of the remonstrances of the artist and the confusion into which their unceremonious entry has thrown his blushing model, whose nude figure he is endeavouring to block out with his palette. (Republished July 1, 1802.) _November 31, 1785._ _Jockeyship._ Published by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street.--A view of that portion of the racing-ground where the jockeys are about to mount. Various interested groups are represented as surrounding the riders, and secret counsel, at the last moment, is given to jockeys by owners of horses--possibly parting instructions to ride either a winning or a losing race, as their private arrangements may require. That the proceedings of the Turf were not perfectly pure and above the comment of suspicion in the infancy of horse-racing is indicated by the caricaturist in the last action of 'jockeyship;' the riders, while shaking hands finally with their owners and backers, are shown taking care to keep their left hands open behind their backs for bribes from the other side; this signal is meeting a golden response. The crowded stand and the racecourse are sketched in the background. _December 1785._ _An Italian Family._ Rowlandson, delt.; Alken, fecit. (See 1792.) Published December 1785 by S. Alken, Dufour's Place, Broad Street, Soho. Sold by W. Hinton, Sweetings Alley, Cornhill. _A French Family._ Sold by W. Hinton, Sweetings Alley, Cornhill. (Republished 1792.) _December 15, 1785._ _Courtship in High Life. Courtship in Low Life._--A pair of prints designed and executed by Rowlandson in imitation of drawings, and belonging to the same period as the more finished and special works which the artist produced published by J. R. Smith. In the former subject _High Life Courtship_ is represented in the figure of an elegant young noble--probably meant for the Prince of Wales--kneeling at the feet of a graceful and charming young lady of extreme fashion; the portrait exhibits certain indications of being intended for that of Mrs. Fitzherbert. There is a great deal of animation and good taste in the composition. The companion print of _Low Life Courtship_ introduces a British sailor, (who has lost an eye and gained a wooden leg in the service of his country), pouring out a bumper of spirits and regarding with a longing eye a careless and semi-intoxicated-looking damsel, who, in spite of evident symptoms of dissipation, is represented as buxom, fresh-looking, and well-favoured. _December 15, 1785._ _City Courtship._ _December 15, 1785._ _Rustic Courtship._ Published by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street. H. Wigstead, del.--Rowlandson has given his unmistakable characteristics to this plate, which is executed in outline etching, and filled in in aquatint, in admirable facsimile of the artist's drawings, washed in Indian ink, and tastefully coloured. A fair cottage beauty is spinning flax; her wheel is placed outside the cottage-door; she is being stared at in vacuous admiration by a rustic Colin Clout, who is grinning from ear to ear and scratching his forehead in perplexity. Hop-poles are seen in the distance, and the landscape is one of those pretty country scenes such as may often be seen in England. _December 1785._ _Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green._ (Companion to _The Return from Gretna Green, or Reconciliation_.)--This plate, which is executed in mezzotint, is usually worked up in imitation of a water-colour drawing--its resemblance to the original sketch, if judiciously tinted after Rowlandson's drawing, is sufficiently close to prove deceptive. A post-carriage is tearing along down hill, on the road to Gretna Green, drawn by four prancing horses, ridden by a pair of jockeys, and pursued by a posse of mounted horsemen. The foremost rider, a squire, booted and spurred, is coming close to the elopers and flourishing his whip revengefully at the occupants of the chaise; his horse is turned aside by the threatening attitude of the fugitives. The lady, her feathers flying in the wind, is leaning out of one window, pointing a formidable pistol at her parent's head; while the dandified young swain who is the abductor in this case is pointing a second pistol through the other window. The rest of the chase are lost in the clouds of dust which the wheels of the post-chaise are throwing in the rear. One venerable gentleman's hat and wig are being left far behind, like those of our old friend John Gilpin. _December 17, 1785._ _The Reconciliation, or the Return from Scotland._ Published by W. Hinton, 5 Sweetings Alley, Royal Exchange.--The pair of fugitives we saw in the previous subject are now, like a brace of repentant turtledoves, returning to the family nest which they had rashly forsaken. The gallant husband is all submission and civility, pointing to the tears of his bride as their intercessors to the hearts of the parents. The father is indicating that a place at his fireside is still the right of his child; the old footman is joyfully placing a chair for his young mistress; and the servants, introduced in the doorway of the apartment, are in ecstasies to see the runaway couple return and the domestic breach happily repaired. [Illustration: THE RECONCILIATION, OR THE RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.] _December 21, 1785._ _Botheration_ (Bar). Published by W. Hunter. (Engraved by Alken.) Dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar. [Illustration: HARMONY.] _December 21, 1785._ _The Loss of Eden and Eden Lost._ N.B. 'Every man has his price.'--_Sir Robert Walpole's politics._ Published by W. Hinton, 5 Sweetings Alley, Royal Exchange.--This caricature gives the portraits of two would-be benefactors of their country, who, the satirist is inclined to hint, were not acting from purely disinterested motives. General Arnold, dressed in his uniform, and with his sword drawn, while offering up an invocation to _Liberty_, is one of the figures; Eden (Lord Auckland) is the other; the patriotic statesman has also apostrophised _Liberty_, and successfully in this instance, with his pen; his pocket is well supplied with those good things which have fallen to his share--'6,000_l._ _per annum_,' '_Commissioner to America_,' '_Commercial Negociator to France_.' Two patriots in the self-same age were born, And both alike have gain'd the public scorn: This to America did much pretend, The other was to Ireland a friend. Yet sword or oratory would not do, As each had different plans in view. America lost! Arnold, and, alas! To lose our Eden now is come to pass. 1785. _Sympathy, or a Family on a Journey laying the Dust._ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by W. Humphrey.--The halt of a coach on the road. The occupants have descended, and the coachman and footman, horses, &c., are occupied as described by the title. [Illustration: TASTES DIFFER.] 1785. _John Gilpin's Return to London._ Aquatinta by F. Jukes. Away went Gilpin, and away Went Postboy at his heels, The Postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With Postboy scamp'ring in the rear, They rais'd the hue and cry: 'Stop thief! stop thief! a highwayman!' Not one of them was mute; So they, and all that pass'd that way, Soon join'd in the pursuit. 1785. _Harmony--Discord._ A pair of contrasts.--_Harmony_ is a remarkably graceful example of the artist's skill in indicating pleasing forms and easy, flowing outlines. The warrior, we presume, is relaxing the stern front of Mars by the practice of the softer arts, and is seated at the side of a fair companion, who is holding her hero's music-book on her lap. 1785. _Effects of Harmony._ (Companion to the above.) 1785. _Tastes Differ._--An antiquated individual, evidently a connoisseur of old prints, dressed in his morning cap and dressing-gown, is buried in the study of a large folio spread before him; all his admiration is absorbed in his hobbies, to the neglect of a young and pretty woman by his side, who is consoling herself, in dreams, for the neglect with which as the plate seems to hint, the superannuated spouse is treating the charms of her company and person. [Illustration: NAP IN THE COUNTRY.] 1785. _Nap in the Country. Nap in Town._ Published by S. Alken, Dufour's Place, Soho.--_A Nap in the Country_ represents the mid-day rest of a rustic pair, who, while their sheep are calmly grazing and their dog is keeping faithful watch, are, beneath the shadows of spreading trees, indulging in 'forty winks' in the open country, after their early morning toils. [Illustration: NAP IN TOWN.] A _Nap in Town_, which may also be taken as an afternoon siesta, though equally luxurious, is not enjoyed under such healthy conditions as the preceding; the town pair are taking their repose with as much lazy ease as the circumstances will permit. [Illustration: SEA AMUSEMENT, OR COMMANDERS-IN-CHIEF OF CUP AND BALL ON A CRUISE.] 1785. _Sea Amusement, or Commanders-in-Chief of Cup and Ball on a Cruise._--It appears from this print, which in the coloured editions is judiciously tinted to make it resemble a drawing, that the inactivity of our commanders at sea was attracting popular censure. In the plate we find the admiral and his commodore, instead of sweeping the foes of Britain from the ocean, as was the desire of the entire nation, seated in the state-cabin, with a pile of gold-pieces on the ground, devoting their energies to gambling with a child's toy. Scattered around and trodden upon unheeded are plans of fortifications to be bombarded, the charts of oceans to be navigated, and rough draughts for the arrangement of the ships at the beginning of a sea-fight, such as we find Nelson drew up for the guidance of his captains before going into action on the eve of his glorious victories. An old salt, who is pouring out tea for these degenerate warriors, is regarding their puerile dispositions with an air of disgust and distress. _December 26, 1785._ _French Travelling, or the First Stage from Calais._ _December 26, 1785._ _English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover._ [Illustration: OPERA BOXES.] [Illustration: OPERA BOXES.] 1785. (?) _Opera Boxes. 1786. _January 1, 1786._ _The Supplemental Magazine._ Published January 1, 1786, by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _January 1, 1786._ _Private Amusement._ (See October 28, 1781), _E. O. or the Fashionable Vowels_. [Illustration: BOX-LOBBY LOUNGERS.] _January 5, 1786._ _Box-Lobby Loungers._ Designed by H. Wigstead; etched by Rowlandson; published January 5, 1786, by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street.--The diversities of character introduced into this drawing, which is one of Rowlandson's larger productions, entitle it to a prominent place in a collection of the artist's works. Glimpses of the theatre are seen through the open doors. In the coloured editions of this plate, which is scarce and valuable, the most conspicuous figure is that of a military hero, the adventurous Colonel George Hanger (afterwards Lord Coleraine), companion and instigator of the Prince of Wales's early frolics; well known to the satirists, and in short one of the notorieties of his generation. This inveterate 'man about town' is shown with his invariable companion, christened by the eccentric Colonel, who rejoiced in a vocabulary of his own, his '_Supple-Jack_,' a thick stick carried under his arm; the gallant lounger, who has left the world a volume of eccentric _Memoirs_, with his _Advice to Lovely Ciprians_ by way of Appendix, is lost in admiration of two highly attractive nymphs, possible members of the 'Sisterhood;' while Georgey Hanger's truant eyes are engaged in the contemplation of the personal charms of these butterflies of fashion, the hand of a pickpocket is equally ready to carry off the Colonel's seals from his fob, as a souvenir of the _rencontre_. On the right of the ubiquitous hero another pair of lovely damsels, displaying the follies of the mode in their attire, are attracting the somewhat marked attentions of a circle of elderly admirers. A dwarfed and deformed beau, elaborately dressed in the French fashion, probably designed for the figure of Sir Lumley Skeffington, who was the authority, among the _bucks_ and '_fashionables_' of his day, on theatrical matters, is getting into trouble by the awkwardness into which his near sight and his gallantry are combining to betray him; the train of an antiquated belle is coming to grief through the clumsiness of _The Skeffington_. The lady, whose native charms, in their decay, are considerably heightened by art, has evidently availed herself of her fortune to secure a handsome dandified young cavalier; two sturdy old retired sea captains are contemplating the '_Skittish Skeffy_,' and his monkey-like escapades with expressions of profound contempt. A superannuated man of quality, a venerable _beau_ of scarecrow aspect, is foppishly cultivating the good graces of a dashing 'girl of the period;' while two extraordinary Don Juans, who, judging from their exteriors, would not be suspected of engaging themselves in amorous intrigues, are enlisting the friendly offices of a comfortable old body, who unites the twin occupations of selling oranges and play-bills, with the manipulation of delicate negociations, a recognised and experienced ambassadress, in fact, to the court of Cytherea, duly credentialised, and, as far as appearances can be relied on, a thoroughly discreet and capable person in her profession. A play-bill, adhering to the green-baize-covered walls of the Lobby, is intended to apply to the situation of the frivolous habitués who are haunting the crowded lounge--'_The Way of the World_,' and '_Who's the Dupe?_' Beyond the main groups we have particularised, there are numerous individuals scattered about, probably well-known characters in their generation, whose persons and portraits were doubtless familiarly recognised at the date Rowlandson favoured his contemporaries with this suggestive view of their private amusements in the _Box Lobbies_. _January 13, 1786._ _Love and Learning, or the Oxford Scholar._ Drawn by Rowlandson. Engraved and published by B. Smith, 10 Pleasant Row, Battle Bridge.--A print engraved in somewhat peculiar style as an attempted _facsimile_ after the original drawing. The subject is an undergraduate, who is leading a tall and graceful female tastefully dressed in white, through a wood; the cavalier is pointing out the beauties of the scene; the face of a forsaken lady, wearing a malignant expression, appears from the concealment afforded by the forest shade. Beauty invites, and love and learning plead; The Oxford scholar surely must succeed. Yet oh! ye blooming, soft inclining fair, Of his too fatal eloquence beware; For see, a slighted fair one is behind, With jealous eye and most distracted mind! _February 10, 1786._ _Sketch of politics in Europe January 24, 1786._ _Birthday of the King of Prussia._ _Toasts upon the occasion._ '_King of Prussia_,' '_King of Great Britain_,' '_The Berlin Union_,' '_Confusion to the Bavarian Project_,' '_The Wooden Walls of Old England_,' '_The Illustrious House of Brunswick and Wolfenbuttel_,' '_Destruction to the French Interest in Holland, and prosperity to the House of Orange_,' '_May the British Lion and the Prussian Eagle remain united for times everlasting_,' '_May the United strength of the British Lion and the Prussian Eagle preserve the Ancient Constitution of the German Empire, and the Protestant interest_,' '_May Universal Monarchy, the bane of Human Nature, for ever remain a baseless vision!_' This general view of the political prospects of Europe is pictorially set forth in the fashion of an escutcheon, representing the two Protestant monarchs under a pavilion, and seated side by side on one throne--a Prussian grenadier behind the Great Frederick, and a British sailor behind George the Third. Frederick is holding the double-headed eagle of Austria in golden fetters, with his feet on the motto _Universal Monarchy_. The names of the various German States, Hanover, Brunswick, Hesse, Saxony, Deuxpont, and Mayence, are on two shields at the sides of the pavilion. The reigning Duke of Brunswick, and Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, are standing on either side of the monarchs in the centre, as supporters, with their hands on their swords; both are declaring to 'the twin Protestant heroes,' 'When you agree, I am ready.' The neighbouring States are variously symbolised. The Prince of Orange is praying for protection; Holland is figured as a milch cow, of which France is monopolising the produce; and above, a monkey, with the Crown and Insignia of France, has perched on the globe, and is pointing his claw to Holland. Busts of the reigning monarchs are ranged around. Denmark 'lays by' for the present; Sweden is 'in the pay of France;' Portugal is crying, 'Oh! buy my wine;' Spain wants 'the Rock;' Sardinia is declaring, 'You shall not settle without me!' The Polish Bear, who is announcing that he 'is not muzzled,' is standing between Russia and the Sultan of Turkey; the latter is hurling defiances at Catherine, 'By the great prophet thou art but a woman!' Russia, as a crowned beast of prey, is 'tortured by ambition, and backed by Brother Joseph.' _March 6, 1786._ _La Négligé._ Designed by '_Simplex Mundities_.' Published by S. W. Fores. _March 7, 1786._ _Captain Epilogue_, published by E. Jackson, 14 Marylebone Street.--The macaroni editor's portrait, as described in the previous print (October 25, 1785), with the addition of a notice-board, introduced above the post which points _To the Wells,--A Prospectus for the 'World and Fashionable Advertiser.'_ _March 7, 1786._ _An Ordnance Dream, or Planning of Fortifications_, published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The Duke of Richmond--who, perhaps in some degree on account of his partial French extraction, and his left-handed Stuart descent, did not enjoy unmixed popularity, was constantly brought into ridicule, with which the satirists met his abortive fortification schemes, and a certain gun, of his own construction, reputed of leather, which it is said he was anxious to introduce. [Illustration: AN ORDNANCE DREAM, OR PLANNING OF FORTIFICATIONS.] The caricaturist has represented the distinguished Master-General of Ordnance, an insipid edition of _Uncle Toby_, as the Duke was frequently nick-named. The Duke is in his study, fast asleep in his arm-chair, surrounded by his novel experiments. His foot is resting on the 'Trial of Colonel Debbeig.' A case of fresh ammunition, in the form of tobacco pipes, is lying by his side, and a number of rolled up plans of the projected fortifications are thrown about the place. On the walls are a pair of views on the subject of the proposed fortifications; one picture represents the bare ground, with labourers and wheel-barrows, and the skeletons of a projected fleet; the second view gives the fortifications under the state of their imaginary completion, furnished with guns and ammunition, and duly manned, with a bulwark of our wooden walls beyond. The solid and assuring conditions of the preparations on paper are badly sustained in practice. A pile of card-houses, disposed round the study-table, do duty for fortresses; broken pipe-bowls and stems take the place of stoneworks and guns. An empty decanter accounts for the Duke's faith in this imaginary system of protection. A cat is clawing at the table-cloth, and threatening the total destruction of the projected defences at one swoop; she is mounted on the muzzle of a sample gun of the problematical leathern ordnance, of which, rumour asserted, the Duke of Richmond had ordered a snuff-box maker to supply him patterns. In the struggles in Parliament, where the Duke's plans were the subject of vexed discussion, more stress was laid on his political apostasy than upon the inefficiency of his propositions, patriotism in the senate being subordinated at all times to the workings of party, and the intrigues for political power. [Illustration: LUXURY.] [Illustration: MISERY.] _March 7, 1786._ _Luxury--Misery._ Published by E. Jackson, 14 Marylebone Street, Golden Square.--The luxury of a breakfast in bed on downy pillows, surrounded by all the allurements of ease and other superfluities, is contrasted with the _Misery_ of perishing of starvation and thirst on the wide ocean, with nothing but a mast between the frozen unfortunates and a watery grave, and no object of relief on the bare horizon to suggest a ray of hope to the solitary sufferers. _March 8, 1786._ _The Morning Dram._ Published by J. Phillips, 164 Piccadilly.--The toilette of a lady whose tastes are, to say the least of them, slightly inclined to the social glass; while her French hair-dresser is attending to her luxuriant locks, the fair, free and easy divinity is not too ethereal to decline recruiting her spirits with a cordial. [Illustration: THE MORNING DRAM.] _March 1786._ _The Polish dwarf_ (Count Boruwloski) _performing before the Grand Seigneur_. Published by E. Jackson, 14, Marylebone Street. The famous Count Boruwloski visited nearly all the courts of Europe, where he was made the most of on account of his remarkable diminutiveness, as at the age of twenty his height was but two feet four inches. This Polish miniature man differed from dwarfs in general, as his figure was well-proportioned, and he further possessed perfect breeding, was intellectual, good-natured, and accomplished, and, among other gifts, enjoyed a talent for music, which he had cultivated. His memoirs, written by himself, first appeared in 1788; he lived to the advanced age of ninety-eight, he was born at Chaliez, in Russian Poland, November 1739; he died at Banks' Cottage, near Durham (the gift, it is said, of some of the prebendaries of Durham Cathedral), September 13, 1837. The artist, who had an opportunity of studying this duodecimo edition of humanity from the life, has represented Count Boruwloski in the act of favouring that mysterious potentate, the Grand Seigneur, with a tune on the violin, within the sacred and unapproachable precincts (as far as mankind is concerned) of the harem. The contrast presented between this perfect miniature and the full-blown and highly developed beauties of the seraglio, the overfed Grand Turk, and his gigantic guards, is ludicrously marked. [Illustration: THE POLISH DWARF (COUNT BORUWLOSKI) PERFORMING BEFORE THE GRAND SEIGNEUR.] _April 1, 1786._ _The Dying Patient, or the Doctor's Last Fee._ Published by H. Brookes, Coventry Street. 1786. _Brewer's Drays._ Published by E. Jackson, 14, Marylebone Street, Golden Square.--An unusually careful sketch--for Rowlandson--of the interior of the premises of a certain great brewer, most probably those of the renowned Mr. Whitbread, in Chiswell Street, visited in state by their gracious Majesties about this period, when the Royal condescension was made the subject of the famous ode by Peter Pindar-- Full of the art of brewing beer, The monarch heard of Whitbread's fame; Quoth he unto the queen: 'My dear, my dear, Whitbread hath got a marvellous great name. Charly, we must, must, must see Whitbread brew Rich as us, Charly, richer than a Jew. Shame! shame! we have not yet his brewhouse seen!' Thus sweetly said the king unto the queen. * * * * * Now did the king for other beers inquire, For Calvert's, Jordan's, Thrale's entire; And after talking of these different beers, Asked Whitbread if his porter equalled theirs-- A kind of question to the Man of Cask That even Solomon himself would ask. [Illustration: BREWER'S DRAYS.] 1786. _Contrasts: Youth and Age._--An exceedingly witch-like looking elderly female is endeavouring to entertain a young beauty with some piece of news from a paper, to which the maiden, it appears, is most indolently indifferent. [Illustration: CONTRASTS--YOUTH AND AGE.] 1786 (?). _Sailors Carousing._--A bacchanalian scene, picturing the diversions of salts on shore in the days when tars indulged in such jocularities as frying gold watches, and eating one-pound Bank Notes on bread and butter. The 'Pollies from Portsmouth' have evidently exceeded the bonds of strict moderation in their applications to the punch-bowl. A Dutch skipper is calmly smoking and drinking himself into philosophic stupidity, regardless of the uproar proceeding around him, of singing, shouting, and fiddling, in drunken discordance. [Illustration: SAILORS CAROUSING.] 1786 (?). _The Return from Sport._--A bold and well-executed etching, to which a further interest is added by Rowlandson's easy and flowing touch, of a rustic subject in Morland's manner. The results of the morning's sport are chiefly remarkable for their ludicrous insignificance. [Illustration: THE RETURN FROM SPORT.] _May, 1786._ _A Theatrical Chymist._--We have already seen the genius of Holman, who was, as we have noticed, at school with the Caricaturist, rising like the sun as represented by Rowlandson's pencil and graver: we now find the satirist giving his alliance to the other side, although the former print, _Topham endeavouring with his squirt to extinguish the rising genius of Holman_, was being reissued. Probably the success on one side induced the artist--who, we presume, sought only to exercise his art, and was not inconvenienced by party prejudices--to try and make as fair a counter-hit as we so often find him doing. The figure of Holman, a mean and by no means imposing-looking personage, is issuing from a still, together with a discharge of 'puffs,' &c. The _Theatrical Chymist_ is a clerical-looking worthy, our old friend Parson Bate, who is employing a decayed military buck, in tattered regimentals, seated on a pile of paper, to fan the furnace _Academy_ with the _Morning Post_ bellows; the materials, from which the actor Holman is being distilled, are _Ignorance_, _Impertinence_, _Coxcomity_, _Misconception_, _Raving_, _Ranting_, _Grinning_, _Snarling_, _Tortured Attitudes_, _Envy_, _Detraction_. 1786. _A Box-Lobby Hero. The Branded Bully, or the Ass stripp'd of the Lion's Skin._--The incident which forms the subject of this plate is now forgotten, but it appears some overgrown and swaggering personage had constituted himself the tyrant of the box lobbies. The old fable of the Ass in the Lion's skin is verified. Although a head and a half taller than any of those present, the _Branded Bully_ is allowing a mere dwarf to pull his enormous pigtail, and kick him. The ladies are jeering at the discomfitted swaggerer, who, it seems, is in such abject fear that he is suffering all sorts of indignities without attempting to resent them. _May 6, 1786._ _More of Werter. The Separation. Charlotte preserved from destruction by Albert and Hymen, whilst Werter in the excess of frenzy puts an end to his existence._ Designed by Collings, etched by Rowlandson, published by E. Jackson, Marylebone Street.--The last scene of Werter's tragedy is represented as taking place on the brink of a precipice. The adolescent divinity Hymen, in whose path flowers are strewn, is conducting Charlotte away from the fate which is hanging over her lover; Hymen's torch is interposed between them, and his hand is on the matrimonial chain by which Charlotte is bound to her faithful husband, about whose head is a vision of antlers. Charlotte is hurried off in despair. As to the hero of the story, he is writhing about in a passionate paroxysm, a serpent is stinging him, a death's head looms above his own, the suicide is grasping a pistol in each hand, and a devil with a scourge of snakes and a vial of poison, is pouring the fatal potion over his head like Macassar oil, of which his locks, like a Turk's head broom, standing bolt on end with excitement, do not appear to have any need. [Illustration: COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.] _July 20, 1786._ _Covent Garden Theatre._ Published by H. Brookes, Coventry Street.--An interior of the old theatre filled on all sides with a diversified and appreciative audience. The etching is made with a bold free point, and from its ease and simplicity bears the closest resemblance possible to the artist's original outlines, drawn with his famous reed pen, in the facile exercise of which Rowlandson attained peculiar excellence. _September 1, 1786._ _Outré Compliments._ _October 1, 1786._ _The Jovial Crew._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3, Piccadilly.--This print, which is somewhat suggestive of Rowlandson's manner, has evidently lost much in the engraving, which is due to another hand. The group consists of a brace of jolly mariners--probably intended for captain and mate--whose characteristics are somewhat of the Dutch skipper type, in company with a black sailor, who is holding a punch-bowl, and is seated on a coil of rope on the deck of the vessel. 1786. _A Visit to the Uncle._ Published by E. Jackson, Marylebone Street. (See 1794.) _A Visit to the Aunt._ Published by E. Jackson, Marylebone Street. (See 1794.) 1786. _The Wood Eater (Fox)._ (See December 20, 1788.) _Illustrations_ to poems by Peter Pindar, 1786-92. Printed for G. Kearsley at the Johnson's Head, 46, Fleet Street. _Peter's Prophecy, or the President and Poet_; OR AN IMPORTANT EPISTLE TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS ON THE APPROACHING ELECTION OF A PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY. BY PETER PINDAR. _The Banquet Scene: a Repast of the Acclimitative Order._ SIR J. BANKS (_loquitur_). Zounds! ha'nt I swallow'd raw flesh like a hound? On vilest reptiles rung the changes round? Eat every filthy insect you can mention; Tarts made of grasshoppers, my own invention? Frogs, tadpoles by the spoonful, long-tail'd imps, And munch'd cockchaffers just like prawns or shrimps? Hell seize the pack! unconscionable dogs! Snakes, spiders, beetles, chaffers, tadpoles, frogs, All swallow'd to display what man can do-- And must the villains still have something new? Tell, then, each pretty President creator-- Confound him--that I'll eat an alligator. PICTURESQUE BEAUTIES OF BOSWELL. 'Part the First, containing ten prints, designed and etched by two capital artists' (Collings and Rowlandson). 'Published in May, 1786, by E. Jackson, 14 Marylebone Street, Golden Square. 'To any serious criticism or ludicrous banter to which my journal may be liable, I shall never object, but receive both the one and the other with perfect good humour.'--_Vide_ Boswell's Letter in the _Public Advertiser_ of March 10, 1786. 1. _Frontispiece._--Representing General Paoli, Dr. Johnson, and the Journalist practising his celebrated imitations. Ursa Major and the General are drawing the elated advocate in a go-cart, which bears his initial, with a fool's cap worn over an advocate's wig. The Journalist has bells to his Scotch bonnet, a pen behind his ear, a portrait of Bruce, his reputed ancestor, round his neck, a rattle is in his hand, while his publications, _Journal to the Hebrides_, and _Corsica_, are by his side; he is indulging his famous imitation of a '_Moo, oah_' cow (see plate 10, vol. ii). 'All hail, Dalblair! Hail to thee, Laird of Auckinleck.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 38. 2. _The Journalist, with a view of Auckinleck or the Land of Stones._ Bozzy is shown strutting with his short legs very wide apart, posed for the heroic, with a plaid blowing over his shoulder, a feather in his bonnet, an ink-bottle at his button-hole, and an advocate's wig and bands: a bulky manuscript, 'Materials for the Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.,' is serving as his buckler, and the _Journal_ is flourished as a claymore. _Ogden on Prayer_ is in his pocket. 'I am, I flatter myself, completely a "Citizen of the World." In my travels through Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Corsica, France, I have never felt myself from home; and I sincerely love every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation'--(p. 11). 'My great-grandfather, the husband of Countess Veronica, was Alexander, Earl of Kincardine. From him the blood of Bruce flows in my veins; of such ancestry who would not be proud, and glad to seize a fair opportunity to let it be known?'--_Vide Journal_, p. 16. 3. _The Embrace at Boyd's Inn._ 'On Saturday, August 14, 1773, late in the evening I received a note from Dr. Johnson that he was arrived at Boyd's Inn at the head of the Cannongate; I went to him directly. He embraced me cordially, and I exulted in the thought that I now actually had him in Caledonia.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 12. 4. _Walking up the High Street, Edinburgh._ 'Dr. Johnson and I walked arm in arm up the High Street to my house in James's Court. It was a dusky night, I could not prevent his being assailed by the evening effluvia of Edinburgh. 'As we marched along he grumbled in my ear, "I smell you in the dark."'--_Vide Journal_, p. 13. 5. _Tea at the Journalist's House in James's Court._ 'My wife had tea ready for him, which it is well known he delighted to drink at all hours, particularly when sitting up late. He showed much complacency that the mistress of the house was so attentive to his singular habit, and as no man could be more polite when he chose to be so, his address to her was most courteous and engaging, and his conversation soon charmed her into a forgetfulness of his external appearance.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 14. 6. _Chatting 'till two o'clock in the Morning._ 'We talked of murder, and of the ancient trial by duel. We sat till near two in the morning, having chatted a good while after my wife left us. She had insisted that, to show all respect to the sage, she would give up our own bedroom to him, and take a worse. This I cannot but gratefully mention as one of a thousand obligations which I owe her since that great obligation of her being pleased to accept of me as her husband.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 15. 7. _Veronica, a Breakfast Conversation._ 'Dr. Johnson was pleased with my daughter Veronica, then a child about four months old. She had the appearance of listening to him. His motions seemed to her to be intended for her amusement, and when he stopped she fluttered, and made a little infantine noise, and a kind of signal for him to begin again. She would be held close to him, which was a proof, from simple nature, that his figure was not horrid. Her fondness for him endeared her still more to me, and I declared she should have five hundred pounds of additional fortune.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 17. 8. _Wit and Wisdom making preparations for dinner._ 'We gave him as good a dinner as we could. Our Scotch wild-fowl or grouse were then abundant, and quite in season; and so far as wisdom and wit can be aided by administering agreeable sensations to the palate, my wife took care that our great guest should not be deficient.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 123. 9. _Setting out from Edinburgh on the Tour._ 'Wednesday, August 18. On this day we set out from Edinburgh, attended only by my man, Joseph Ritter, a Bohemian, a fine stately fellow, above six feet high, who had been over a great part of Europe, and spoke many languages. He was the best servant I ever saw. Let not my readers disdain his introduction, for Doctor Johnson gave him this character: "Sir, he is a civil man, and a wise man." My wife did not seem quite easy when we left her, but away we went.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 47. [Illustration: SCOTTIFYING THE PALATE AT LEITH.] 10. _Scottifying the Palate at Leith._ 'I bought some speldings, fish salted and dried in a particular manner, being dipped in the sea and dried in the sun, and eaten by the Scots by way of relish. He had never seen them, though they are sold in London. I insisted on Scottifying his palate, but he was very reluctant. With difficulty I prevailed with him. He did not like it.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 50. I see thee stuffing, with a hand uncouth, An old dry'd whiting in thy Johnson's mouth; And, lo! I see, with all his might and main, Thy Johnson spit the whiting out again. PETER PINDAR. Second Volume. Same title as the first part. 1. _Frontispiece. Revising for the Second Edition, under the inspection of a learned friend._ 'Having found, on a revision of this work, that a few observations had escaped me, the publication of which might be considered as passing the bounds of strict decorum, I immediately ordered that they should be omitted in the present edition.' Let Lord M'Donald threat thy breech to kick,[29] And o'er thy shrinking shoulders shake his stick; Treat with contempt the menace of this Lord-- 'Tis Hist'ry's province, Bozzy, to record. Vide _Poetical Epistle to Jas. Boswell, Esq._, by PETER PINDAR, Esq. 2. _The Procession to St. Leonard's College. St. Andrews._ 'After supper we made a procession to Saint Leonard's College, the landlord walking before us with a candle, and the waiter with a lantern.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 54. 3. _The Vision at Lord Errol's. Slain's Castle._ 'I had an elegant room, but there was a fire in it that blazed; and the sea, to which my windows looked, roared; and the pillows were made of some seafowls' feathers, which had to me a disagreeable smell, so that by all these causes I was kept awake a good time. I saw in imagination Lord Errol's father, Lord Kilmarnock (who was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1740), and I was somewhat dreary, but the thought did not last long, and I fell asleep.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 110. 4. _Lodging at Mr. M'Queen's, in Glenmorison: the celebrated Spider Scene._ 'There were two beds in the room, and a woman's gown was hung on a rope to make a curtain of separation between them.... Doctor Johnson fell asleep immediately; I was not so fortunate for a long time. I fancied myself bit by innumerable vermin under the clothes, and that a spider was travelling from the wainscot towards my mouth. At last I fell into insensibility.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 153. 5. _Reconciliation at Glenelg, after the Journalist had ridden away from Ursa Major._ 'I resumed the subject of my leaving him on the road, and endeavoured to defend it better. He was still violent upon that head. I had slept ill; Dr. Johnson's anger had affected me much. I considered that, without any bad intention, I might suddenly forfeit his friendship, and was impatient to see him this morning. I told him how uneasy he had made me by what he had said. He owned he had spoken to me in passion, and that he would not have done what he had threatened, and added, "Let's think no more on't."--Boswell: "Well, then, sir, I shall be easy. Remember, I am to have fair warning in case of any quarrel. You are never to spring a mine upon me. It was absurd in me to believe you." Johnson: "You deserved about as much as to believe me from night to morning."'--_Vide Journal_, p. 164. 6. _Highland Dance on the top of Dun-Can._ 'Old Mr. Malcolm McCleod, who had obligingly promised to accompany me, was at my bedside between five and six. I sprang up immediately, and he and I, attended by the two other gentlemen, traversed the country during the whole of this day. Though we had passed over not less than four-and-twenty miles of very rugged ground, and had a Highland dance on the top of Dun-Can, the highest mountain in the island, we returned in the evening not at all fatigued, and piqued ourselves at not being outdone at the nightly ball by our less active friends who had remained at home.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 192. 7. _The Recovery, after a severe drunken frolic at Corrichatachin._ 'I awaked at noon, with a severe headache; I was much vexed I should have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from Dr. Johnson. About one he came into my room and accosted me, "What, drunk yet!". When I rose I went into Dr. Johnson's room, and taking up Mrs. McKinnon's Prayer-book, I opened it at the twentieth Sunday after Trinity, in the Epistle for which I read: "And be not drunken with wine, wherein there is excess." Some would have taken this as a divine interposition.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 318. At Corrichatachin's, the Lord knows how, I see thee, Bozzy, drunk as David's sow, And begging, with rais'd eyes and lengthen'd chin, Heav'n not to damn thee for the deadly sin. PETER PINDAR'S _Epistle_. 8. _Sailing among the Hebrides,--the Journalist holding a rope's-end._ 'As I saw them all busy doing something, I asked Col with much earnestness what I could do. He with a happy readiness put into my hand a rope which was fixed to the top of one of the masts, and told me to hold it till he bid me pull. If I had considered the matter I might have seen that this could not be of the least service, but his object was to keep me out of the way of those who were busy working the vessel, and at the same time to divert my fear by employing me and making me think that I was of use. Thus did I stand firm to my post, while the wind and the rain beat upon me, always expecting a call to pull my rope.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 349. 9. _The Contest at Aucklinleck, in which Ursa Major made a severe retort on the Journalist's father._ 'The contest began whilst my father was showing him his collection of medals; and Oliver Cromwell's coin unfortunately introduced Charles the First and Toryism; in the course of their altercation Whiggism and Presbyterianism, Toryism and Episcopacy, were terribly buffeted. 'They became exceedingly warm and violent, and I was very much distressed at being present at such an altercation between two men, both of whom I reverenced; yet I durst not interfere. It would certainly be very unbecoming in me to exhibit my honoured father and my respected friend as intellectual gladiators for the entertainment of the public; and therefore I suppress what would, I daresay, make an interesting scene in this dramatic sketch--this account of the transit of Johnson over the Caledonian hemisphere.'--_Vide Journal_, p. 482. 10. _Imitations at Drury Lane Theatre by the Journalist._ 'At Mr. Tyler's I happened to tell that one evening, a great many years ago, when Dr. Hugh Blair and I were sitting together in the pit of Drury Lane playhouse, in a wild freak of youthful extravagance I entertained the house _prodigiously_ by imitating the lowing of a cow. I was so successful in this boyish frolic that the universal cry of the galleries was, "_Encore_ the cow! _Encore_ the cow!" In the pride of my heart I attempted imitations of some other animals, but with very inferior effect. My reverend friend, anxious for my fame, with an air of the utmost gravity and earnestness addressed me thus: "My dear sir, I would _confine_ myself to the _cow_!" 'A little while after I had told this story I differed from Dr. Johnson, I suppose too confidently, upon some point which I now forget. He did not spare me. "Nay, sir (said he), if you cannot talk better as a man, I'd have you bellow like a cow."' FOOTNOTES: [27] 'The present Orchestra (1809) was first exhibited to the public on the 2nd June, 1735. It was built by an ingenious mechanic, named Maidman, a common carpenter employed in the gardens, from a design of his own. The composition with which it is ornamented was also his own discovery. This elegant orchestra is calculated to contain fifty performers, with an organ, &c. It is illuminated by about four thousand lamps, and presents an object of unparalleled brilliance. The same ingenious artisan erected the rotunda, which is seventy feet in diameter, and represents a magnificent pavilion. Within it is placed another orchestra, where the musical part of the entertainment is performed in unfavourable weather. Adjoining the saloon, with its _scagliola_ columns, and its paintings by Hayman, is a supper room, one hundred feet long and forty feet wide, with a double row of columns. On the walls are represented paintings of rural scenery, which answer to the intercolumniations. At the end of the room was the statue of Handel, in white marble, and in the character of Orpheus singing to his lyre; but it is now removed behind the orchestra in the garden. This fine piece of sculpture first introduced the abilities of Roubiliac to the notice of the public. It was begun and completed in the place of which it was the ornament, while the noble subject and the superior artist were enjoying the friendly and protecting hospitality of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, who purchased the place in 1730, and opened it with an attractive entertainment which he called a _Ridotto al Fresco_. 'The grove, principal entrance, and other parts of the gardens are furnished with a number of small pavilions, ornamented with paintings, chiefly by Hogarth and Hayman; each containing a table and seats, to which the company retire to partake of refreshments.'--_Microcosm of London._ [28] 'Mrs. Hartley was an actress of some popularity; more celebrated, however, for her beauty. She was one of those ladies whose career on the stage was without reproach. She was painted by several of the first artists, and among others by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in one of her best characters. No female, perhaps, that ever appeared on the stage looked more lovely than she in _Fair Rosamond_. Mr., afterwards Sir Bate Dudley, married the sister of this lady.' [29] A letter of severe remonstrance was sent to Mr. B., who, in consequence, omitted, in the second edition of his Journal, what is so generally pleasing to the public, viz., the scandalous passages relative to this nobleman. 1787. The authorship of the following pair of prints is doubtful; they present many indications of Rowlandson's manner, and they were issued by his publisher, S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly; they are sometimes ascribed to Gillray:-- _January 1, 1787._ A pair of single figures, respectively described as _London Refinement_ and _Country Simplicity_. As the titles sufficiently indicate, the former sets forth a town 'macaroni' dressed in the height of the mode, and the latter represents a pretty youth, of rustic fashion, long-haired, and clad in picturesque and homely country garb. _January 11, 1787._ _Uncle George and Black Dick at their New Game of Naval Shuttlecock._--From this caricature it seems that the conduct of the Admiralty in 1787 gave reasonable grounds for dissatisfaction. The state of things is pictorially set forth by Rowlandson. In the centre of the picture stand the compound heads of the Admiralty, a single figure with two fronts--those of the King and Lord Howe, who was popularly designated 'The Prince of Duskey Bay.' A bevy of admirals are applying to the King for recognition of their services to their country; they are all partially disabled by the loss of limbs. A petitioner is offering a statement of their situation to the King, who is made to declare, 'I never interfere with your First Lord; no, never;' while the second head of this Janus, Howe, in replying to a petition from sundry aggrieved captains, is dismissing the applicants with "Go, go! I can do nothing; it is his Majesty's pleasure that----' The abused admirals are expressing their wrongs: 'I see I shall lose my rank after all my long services!' 'I am set aside, although I've lost a son and one eye!' 'Humbug'd, by Jove, by ye old Jesuit!' 'Had I my arm again, to find a better country!' 'Brothers, our Lords and Commons will not suffer this game!' The captains have evidently a bad opinion of their First Lord, _Vultus est Index Animi_: 'Our navy has now two heads and no helm; rare work!' 'Rascal!' 'The King's pleasure! That's a falsity added to a mean _finesse_!' 'He's fond of manoeuvres if ever so bad; you know him!' THE LOUSIAD. For Peter nat'ral 'tis to speak In rhyme, as 'tis for pigs to squeak. PETER PINDAR TO THE READER. Gentle Reader,--It is necessary to inform thee that his Majesty actually discovered, some time ago, as he sat at table, a _louse_ on his plate. The emotion occasioned by the unexpected appearance of such a guest can be better imagined than described. An edict was, in consequence, passed for shaving the cooks, scullions, &c., and the unfortunate louse condemned to die. Such is the foundation of the Lousiad: with what degree of merit the poem is executed, the _uncritical_ as well as the critical reader will decide. The ingenious author, who ought to be allowed to know somewhat of the matter, hath been heard privately to declare, that in his opinion the _Batrachomymachia_ of Homer, the _Secchia Rapita_ of Tassoni, the _Lutrin_ of Boileau, the _Dispensary_ of Garth, and the _Rape of the Lock_ of Pope, are not to be compared to it,--and to exclaim at the same time, with the modest assurance of an author-- _Cedite, scriptores Romani; cedite, Graii-- Nil ortum in terris, Loiusiadâ, melius._ Which, for the sake of the mere English reader, is thus beautifully translated:-- _Roman and Grecian authors, great and small, The author of the Lousiad beats you all._ What dire emotions shook the monarch's soul! Just like two billiard-balls his eyes 'gan roll. 'How, how--what, what?... what's that, what's that?' he cries With rapid accent and with staring eyes. 'Look there! look there!--what's got into my house? A louse, God bless us! Louse, louse, louse, louse, louse.' The Queen look'd down, and then exclaimed, 'Good la!' And with a smile the dappled _stranger_ saw. Each Princess strain'd her lovely neck to see, And, with another smile, exclaimed, 'Good me!' 'Good la! good me!' 'Is that all you can say?' (Our gracious monarch cry'd, with huge dismay). 'What! what a silly, vacant smile takes place Upon your Majesty's and children's face, Whilst that vile louse (soon, soon to be unjointed!) Affronts the presence of the _Lord's anointed_!' Dash'd, as if tax'd with hell's most deadly sins, The Queen and Princesses drew in their chins, Look'd prim, and gave each exclamation o'er, And, prudent damsels, 'word spake never more.' Sweet maids! the beauteous boast of Britain's isle, Speak--were those peerless lips forbid to smile? Lips! that the soul of simple _Nature_ moves-- Form'd by the beauteous hands of all the _Loves_! Lips of delight! unstained by satire's gall! Lips! that I never kiss'd--and never shall. Now to each trembling page, a poor mute mouse, The _pious_ monarch cry'd, 'Is this _your louse_?' 'Ah! Sire,' replied each page, with pig-like whine, 'An't please, your Majesty, it is not _mine_.' '_Not thine?_' the hasty monarch cry'd again-- 'What, what? Who's, who's, then? Who the devil's, then?' [Illustration: 'IS THIS YOUR LOUSE?'] Now at this sad event the sovereign, sore Unhappy, could not take a mouthful more; His wiser Queen, her gracious stomach studying, Stuck most devoutly to the beef and pudding; For Germans are a very hearty sort, Whether begot in hog-styes or a court, Who bear (which shows their hearts are not of stone) The ills of others better than their own. Grim terror seiz'd the souls of all the pages, Of different sizes and of different ages; Frighten'd about their pensions or their bones, They on each other gap'd, like Jacob's sons. Now to a page, but which we can't determine, The growling monarch gave the plate and vermin: 'Watch well that blackguard animal,' he cries, 'That, soon or late, to glut my vengeance, dies! Watch, like a cat, that vile marauding _louse_, Or George shall play the devil in the house. Some _spirit_ whispers, that to cooks I owe The precious _visitor_ that crawls below. Yes, yes! the whisp'ring _spirit_ tells me true, And soon shall vengeance all their locks pursue. Cooks, scourers, scullions, too, with tails of pig, Shall lose their coxcomb curls, and wear a wig.' Thus roar'd the King--not Hercules so _big_; And all the palace echo'd, 'Wear a wig!' Fear, like an ague, struck the pale-nos'd cooks, And dash'd the beef and mutton from their looks, Whilst from each cheek the rose withdrew its red, And pity blubbered o'er each menac'd head. But, lo! the great _cook-major_ comes! his eyes Fierce as the redd'ning flame that _roasts_ and _fries_; His cheeks like _bladders_ with high passion glowing, Or like a fat _Dutch trumpeter's_ when _blowing_. A neat white apron his huge corpse embrac'd, Tied by two comely strings about his waist; An apron that he purchas'd with his riches, To guard from hostile grease his velvet breeches. 'Ye sons of dripping, on your _major_ look! (In sounds of deep-ton'd thunder cry'd the cook), I swear this head disdains to lose its locks; And those that do not, tell them they are _blocks_. Whose head, my cooks, such vile disgrace endures? Will it be yours, or yours, or yours, or yours? Then may the charming perquisite of grease The mammon of your pocket ne'er increase; Grease! that so frequently hath brought you coin, From veal, pork, mutton, and the great _sirloin_. O brothers of the spit! be firm as rocks-- Lo! to no King on earth I yield these locks. Few are my hairs behind, by age endear'd! But, few or many, they shall _not_ be shear'd. * * * * * Sooner shall ham from fowl and turkey part, And stuffing leave a calf's or bullock's heart: Sooner shall toasted cheese take leave of mustard, And from the codlin tart be torn the custard. Sooner these hands the glorious haunch shall spoil, And all our melted butter turn to oil: Sooner our pious _King_, with pious face, Sit down to dinner without saying grace; And every night salvation-pray'rs put forth For Portland, Fox, Burke, Sheridan, and North. Sooner shall fashion order frogs and snails, And dishclouts stick eternal to our tails! Let George view _ministers_ with surly _looks_-- Abuse 'em, kick 'em--but revere his cooks!' 'What! lose our locks!' reply'd the roasting crew, 'To barbers yield 'em?--Damme if we do! Be shav'd like foreign dogs, one daily meets, Naked and blue, and shiv'ring in the streets? And from the palace be asham'd to range, For fear the world should think we had the mange?' 'Rouse, _Opposition_!' roar'd a tipsy cook, With arms akimbo and bubonic look. 'Be shav'd!' a scullion loud began to bellow-- Loud as a parish bull, or poor Othello. 'Be shav'd like pigs!' rejoin'd the scullion's mate, His dishclout shaking, and his pot-crown'd pate-- 'What barber dares it, let him watch his nose And, curse me!--dread the rage of these ten foes.' 'Be shav'd!' an understrapper turnbroche cry'd, In all the foaming energy of pride-- 'Zounds! let us take His Majesty in hand! The king shall find he lives at our command. Yes--let him know, with all his wond'rous state, His teeth and stomach on _our_ wills shall wait. _We_ rule the platters, _we_ command the spit, And George shall have his mess when _we_ think fit; Stay till _ourselves_ shall condescend to eat, And then, if _we_ think proper, have his meat.' 'Heav'ns!' cry'd a _yeoman_, with much learning grac'd, In books as well as meat a man of taste-- 'However _modern Kings_ may cooks despise, _Warriors_ and _Kings_ were cooks, or hist'ry lies. Patroclus broil'd beef-steaks to quell his hunger; The mighty Agamemnon potted conger! And Charles of Sweden, 'midst his guns and drums, Spread his own bread and butter with his thumbs. Be shav'd!--No! Sooner pill'ries, jails, the stocks Shall pinch this corpse, than barbers snatch my locks.' * * * * * Around the table, all with sulky looks, Like culprits doom'd to Tyburn, sat the cooks. At length, with phiz that show'd the man of woes, The sorrowing king of spits and stew-pans rose; With outstretch'd hands and energetic grace, He fearless thus harangues the roasting race: 'Cooks, scullions--hear me, every mother's son-- Know that I relish not this royal fun. What's life,' the major said, 'my brethren, pray, If force must snatch our first delights away? Relentless, shall the royal mandate drag The hairs that long have grac'd this silken bag?-- Hairs to a barber scarcely worth a fig-- Too few to make a foretop for a wig! Hairs, look, my lads, so wonderfully thin Old Schwellenberg has more upon her chin!' [Illustration: 'COOKS, SCULLIONS--HEAR ME, EVERY MOTHER'S SON.'] * * * * * '--What! what! not shave 'em, shave 'em, shave 'em, shave 'em? Not all the world, not all the world shall save 'em. I'll shear 'em, shear 'em, as I shear my sheep!' Thus spoke the mighty monarch in his sleep: Which proves that kings in sleep a speech may make, Equal to what they utter broad awake. * * * * * Now did the _major_ hum a tune so sad! Chromatic--in the robes of sorrow clad; But, lo! the ballad could not fear control, Nor exorcise the barbers from his soul. And now his lifted eyes the ceiling sought; And now he whistled--not for want of thought. [Illustration: 'AND NOW HIS LIFTED EYES THE CEILING SOUGHT, AND NOW HE WHISTLED--NOT FOR WANT OF THOUGHT.'] * * * * * Scarce had he utter'd when a noise was heard; And now, behold, a motley band appear'd! With Babel sounds at once the kitchen rings, Of groom, page, barber, and the best of Kings! And lo! the best of Queens must see the fun; And lo! the Princesses so beauteous run; And Madam Schwellenberg came hobbling, too-- Poor lady, losing in the race a shoe! But, in revenge-pursuit, the loss how slight! The world would lose a _leg_ to please a spite. And now for peace did Seeker bawl aloud; And lo, _peace_ came at once among the crowd. In courts of justice thus, to hush the hum, 'Silence!' the crier calls, and all is mum. 'Cooks, scullions, all, of high and low degree, Attend and learn our monarch's will from _me_. Our sovereign lord, the King, whose word is fate, Wills in his wisdom to see shav'd each pate: Then, gentlemen, pray take your chairs at once; And let each barber fall upon his sconce.' Thus thunder'd Secker, with a Mars-like face, And struck dire terror through the roasting race. Thus roar'd Achilles, 'mid the martial fray, When ev'ry frighted Trojan ran away. Calm was the crowd when thus the King of isles, Firm for the shave, but yet with kingly smiles: 'You must be shav'd--you shall--you must, indeed. No, no--I shan't let slip a single head. A very filthy, nasty, dirty trick: The thought on't turns my stomach--makes me sick. Louse, louse--a nasty thing--a louse I hate: No, no--I'll have no more upon my plate. One is sufficient--yes, yes--quite a store: I'll have no more--no more--I'll have no more.' Thus spake the King, like ev'ry King who gives To trifles lustre that for ever lives. Thus stinking vapours from the oozy pool, Of cats and kittens, dogs and puppies full, Bright _sol_ sublimes, and gives them golden wings, The cloud on which _some_ say the cherub sings. PETER'S PENSION. A SOLEMN EPISTLE TO A SUBLIME PERSONAGE. _Non possum tecum vivere, nec sine te._ Nebuchadnezzar, sir, the _King_, As sacred hist'ries sweetly sing, Was on all fours turn'd out to grass, Just like a horse, or mule, or ass. Heav'ns! what a fall from kingly glory! I hope it will not so turn out That we shall have (to make a pout) A second part of the old story! This pension was well meant, O glorious King! And for the bard a very pretty thing; But let me, sir, refuse it, I implore! _I_ ought not to be rich whilst you are poor. No, sir, I cannot be your humble hack; I fear your _Majesty_ would break my back. A great deal, my dear liege, depends On having clever bards for friends. What had Achilles been without his Homer? A tailor, woollen-draper, or a comber! In poetry's rich grass how virtues thrive! Some when put in, so lean, seem scarce alive, And yet so speedily a bulk obtain, That e'en their _owners_ know them not again. [Illustration: PETER'S PENSION.] Could _you_, indeed, have gain'd my muse of _fire_, Great would your luck have been, indeed, great _sire_! Then had I prais'd your nobleness of spirit! Then had I boasted that myself, _Hight_ Peter, was the first blest, tuneful elf You ever gave a farthing to for merit. Though money be a pretty handy tool; Of mammon, lo! I scorn to be the fool! If fortune calls she's welcome to my cot, Whether she leaves a guinea or a groat; Whether she brings me from the butcher's shop The whole sheep or a single chop. For lo! like Andrew Marvel I can dine, And deem a mutton bone extremely fine. Then, sir, how difficult the task you see, To bribe a moderate _gentleman_ like _me_. I will not swear, _point blank_, I shall not alter-- A _saint_ (my namesake) e'en was known to falter. And who is there that may not change his mind? Where can you folks of that description find Who will not sell their souls for cash? That most angelic, diabolic trash! E'en grave divines submit to glitt'ring gold! The best of consciences are bought and sold: Yet should I imitate the fickle wind, Or Mister Patriot Eden--change my mind; And for the bard your Majesty should send, And say, 'Well, well, well, well, my tuneful friend, I long, I long to give you something, Peter-- You make fine verses--nothing can be sweeter-- What will you have? what, what? speak out, speak out: Yes, yes, you something want, no doubt, no doubt.' Then would the poet thankfully reply, With falt'ring voice, low bow, and marv'ling eye All meekness! such a simple, dove-like thing! 'Blest be the bard who verses can indite, To yield a _second Solomon_ delight! Thrice blest, who findeth favour with the King! 'Since 'tis the royal will to give the bard In whom the King delighteth some reward, Some mark of royal bounty to requite him, O King! do anything but _knight him_.' ODES FOR THE NEW YEAR. Know, reader, that the laureate's post sublime Is destin'd to record, in handsome rhyme, The deeds of British monarchs twice a year: If _great_, how happy is the tuneful tongue! If _pitiful_, as Shakespeare says, the song Must 'suckle fools and chronicle small beer.' But bards must take the _up hill_ with the _down_; Kings cannot always oracles be hatching: Maggots are oft the tenants of a crown-- Therefore, like those in cheese, not worth the catching. O gentle reader! if, by God's good grace, Or (what's more sought) good interest at court, Thou get'st of lyric trumpeter the place, And hundreds are, like gudgeons, gaping for't; Hear! (at a palace if thou mean'st to thrive) And, of a steady coachman, learn to drive. [Illustration: ODES FOR THE NEW YEAR.] Whene'er employ'd to celebrate a King, Let fancy lend thy muse her loftiest wing-- Stun with thy minstrelsy th' affrighted sphere; Bid thy voice thunder like a hundred batteries; For common sounds, conveying common flatteries. Are zephyrs whisp'ring to the royal ear. Know, glutton-like, on praise each monarch crams; Hot spices suit alone their pamper'd nature: Alas! the stomach, parch'd by burning drams, With mad-dog terror starts at simple water. Fierce is each royal _mania_ for applause; And, as a horse-pond wide, are monarch's maws-- Form'd, therefore, on a pretty ample scale: To sound the _decent_ panegyric note, To _pour_ the _modest_ flatt'ries down their throat, Were off'ring shrimps for dinner to a whale. And mind! whene'er thou strik'st the lyre to kings, To touch to Abigails of court the strings; Give the Queen's toad-eater a handsome sop, And swear she always has more grace Than e'en to sell the _meanest_ place-- Swear, too, the woman keeps no title-shop. [Illustration: THE TRIUMPH OF SENTIMENT.] Thus, reader, ends the prologue to my odes! The true-bred courtiers wonder whilst I preach-- And with grave vizards and stretch'd eyes to gods, Pronounce my sermon a most impious speech: With all my spirit--let them damn my lays-- A courtier's curses are exalted praise. _January, 1787._ _The Triumph of Sentiment._ _January, 1787._ _The Triumph of Hypocrisy._ 1787. _Transplanting of Teeth._ Published by J. Harris, 37 Dean Street, Soho.--Among the schemes of charlatans, which were popularly successful in the days of _The Temples of Health, Mud Baths_, and other devices by which pretenders flourished on the gains extorted from fashionable credulity at the end of the last century, was a new theory of dentistry, according to the practice of which a sound tooth was to be torn from the jaws of a healthy individual, and, while still warm, was to be inserted in the gums of some patient whose decayed molar had been extracted simultaneously, and the rest of the operation was left to nature. According to the caricaturist, who has produced a large, spirited, and well-executed plate on this novel operation, we are informed by advertisement that this truly extraordinary performance is taking place in the surgery of '_Baron Ron, Dentist to her High Mightyness the Empress of Russia_,' The professor has appended to this important announcement the further statement, '_Most money given for Live Teeth_.' [Illustration: THE TRIUMPH OF HYPOCRISY.] The dual operations of depriving the poor of their sound teeth for a small pecuniary consideration, that their lost molars may regarnish the gums of patients who are prepared to pay for the accommodation, and the substitution of whole teeth for decayed ones, are proceeding at once. The artist has sketched two wretched young creatures, in rags, who are stealing out of Baron Ron's surgery, weeping and bewailing the loss of their teeth, and regarding a coin held in the palm of their hands, with mourning and reproachful looks. An old dandy, a military buck, is examining the adjustment of his new teeth, which do not appear to fit as accurately as could be desired. An assistant dental professor is planting a live tooth in the gums of a lady of quality, who is kicking violently, in disapproval of the sensation. An elderly dowager is seated in suspense in a chair beside a young sweep, whose odoriferous vicinity she is counteracting by applications to a scent-bottle held to her susceptible nose, while the Baron--a modishly costumed foreigner--is tearing out a beautiful healthy white tooth from the jaws of the sooty patient, to be straightway transplanted into the gums of the customer of quality. _May 9, 1787._ _The Brain-Sucker, or The Miseries of Authorship._ In 1787 Rowlandson issued a series of rustic sketches, including such subjects as horses, dogs, coaches, carts, haymakers, cottages, farrier's forges, and roadside inns; similar views to those selected by Morland, but treated in Rowlandson's own original style. Among these rural studies we may particularise:-- _Shoeing: the Village Forge._ Published by Laurie and Whittle, 53 Fleet Street. [Illustration: SHOEING: THE VILLAGE FORGE.] _A Brewer's Dray._ [Illustration: A BREWER'S DRAY.] _A Posting Inn._ Republished July 1, 1803. [Illustration: A POSTING INN.] _A Rural Halt._ Published by J. Harris, Dean Street, Soho. [Illustration: A RURAL HALT.] _Haymakers._ Published by J. Harris, Dean Street, Soho. [Illustration: HAYMAKERS.] 1787. _A Post Chaise._ [Illustration: A SAILOR'S FAMILY.] 1787. _A Sailor's Family._--One of those charming pieces to which so much of Rowlandson's reputation is justly due. Unaffected simplicity, an easy effortless style of drawing, natural grouping, and the most perfect felicity in rendering graceful attitudes and depicting faces, unequalled for a certain innocent beauty and expressiveness. [Illustration: A COLLEGE SCENE, OR A FRUITLESS ATTEMPT ON THE PURSE OF OLD SQUARE-TOES.] _August 1, 1787._ _A College Scene, or a Fruitless Attempt on the Purse of old Square-toes._ Engraved by E. Williams; published by J. R. Smith, King Street, Covent Garden.--_Old Square-toes_ has called to see his scapegrace--on the subject of supplies, it is needless to particularise. Young _Hopeful_, who is obviously destined for the Bar--where, we may feel convinced in advance he is bound to shine--has assumed his most specious deportment, and has donned his cap and gown, with the other semblances of decorum. The title, _Fruitless Attempt_, seems somewhat of a misnomer, for the special pleading of young _Hopeful_ is evidently producing a favourable impression. Old _Square-toes_ has banged himself down into a chair, and planted his stick on the ground with an air of determination, in a very square attitude, to demonstrate that his resolution is not to be shaken, and that young _Hopeful_ is losing his pains; but, as in the old comedies, the paternal heart is yearning towards his progeny, while his most relentless denunciations are thundered forth; the lines of his stern face are relaxing, an amused smile is twitching at the corners of his mouth, and we are convinced that the next remark will embody the sentiments immortalised by the Georgian dramatists: 'You dog, this time your father forgives you; boys will be boys; I was a gay young spark myself once; I'll pay your debts this time, but never again, &c. &c.' [Illustration: TRAGEDY SPECTATORS.] [Illustration: COMEDY SPECTATORS.] _October 18, 1787._ _Tragedy Spectators._ _Comedy Spectators._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 50 Poland Street.--The contrast of the respective attractions between the two classes of entertainment is pictured with the artist's characteristic force and spirit. The humour of these two designs is suggestive of Hogarth's genius. While the woes of 'Romeo and Juliet' are influencing the spectators to the most profound melancholy, and reducing the audience to tears and hysteria, the attendants on _Comedy_ are enjoying the humours of the performance with the most frank and unrestrained merriment. [Illustration: LOVE IN THE EAST.] 1787. _Love in the East._--Oriental luxuriousness seems to have had a charm for Rowlandson's pencil. It is true that the customs of the East were not represented, at the caricaturist's day, with the strictest adherence to facts; their salient points have since been made more familiar by the graphic pictures of our travelled artists, for whom the East has always had a peculiar fascination. Rowlandson's fancy has supplied those details which he could not furnish from actual experience, and as far as the general theories of oriental splendour are concerned, the imaginative delineations of our artist will be found far more realistic and in accordance with our preconceived impressions than the actuality. _November 5, 1787._ _Reformation, or the Wonderful Effects of a Proclamation._--The Chapel Royal is apparently the scene of this subject. King George, Queen Charlotte, with a Lord and Lady-in-waiting, are in the Royal pew; near them are the law Lords; the Prince of Wales and Mrs. Fitzherbert, with Col. George Hanger, are in the centre; Burke is between them, with Lord North, who is of course represented as sleeping soundly, in spite of the efforts made by a pretty maiden to awaken him. Pitt is acting as clerk. The sermon is evidently one of no common significance. Fox is standing in a sheet, with a placard, '_For playing cards on the Lord's Day!_' A stout lady, armed with a whip, is driving a pack of dogs out of the chapel. [Illustration: THE ART OF SCALING.] 1787 (?). _The Art of Scaling._ [Illustration: MODISH.] 1787 (?). _Modish._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. [Illustration: PRUDENT.] 1787 (?). _Prudent._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. 1787. _Landscape and other Etchings, by T. Rowlandson._ 1787. _Embarking from Brighthelmstone to Dieppe._--The spectators are scattered about the shore, with various fishing smacks; the passengers are being pushed off in rowing boats to the sailing lugger, which is to take them and their luggage across the Channel. There is a fresh breeze blowing; the whole view is animated, and complete as a picture. 1787. _A Sea-coast Scene. Cottages by the Sea-shore: a Storm coming on._ 1787. _Deer-Hunting: a Landscape Scene._--A noble park is capitally etched; the subject is diversified by the introduction of a stag hunt. The hunters are riding up as the stag, followed by the pack of hounds, is taking the water. _December 18, 1787._ _A Travelling Knife-grinder at a Cottage Door._ Published by T. Rowlandson, Poland Street.--A pretty rustic scene, etched with spirit and well finished. _The Three Horse-shoes._--A roadside inn. 1787. _View on the French Coast._--Partially dismantled ships of war, canted for caulking. 1787. _Fox-Hunting: a Landscape Scene._--The artist has taken great pains with the trees and rich foliage which grace this view. The pack have come up with the fox, and the huntsmen are in 'at the death.' _October 15, 1787._ _Stage Coach setting out from a Posting House._ 1787. _Cribbage Players._--A lady and gentleman are opponents; a second lady and gentleman are watching the respective hands. Etched in a brilliant outline, probably intended to be coloured in facsimile of an original drawing. _December 15, 1787._ _Postboys and Post-horses at the White Hart Inn._--Published by J. Harris. 1787. _Boy bringing round a Citizen's Curricle._ 1787. _Civility._ 1788. 1788. _The Morning of the Meet._--One of a series of large hunting pictures, somewhat in the style of Morland, more especially as respects subject, but treated with Rowlandson's individuality as regards boldness, spirited action, and ease. [Illustration: THE MEET.] There are five successive subjects which may be considered to form part of this series, respectively entitled _The Meet_, _The Start_, _The Run_, _In at the Death_, and _The Dinner_. _February 20, 1788._ _The Humours of St. Giles's._ Published by T. Harmar (Engraver), 161 Piccadilly. The honours of this plate are, we understand, divided between Rowlandson and Ramberg. _The Humours of St. Giles's_ are of a diversified nature, as might be supposed. Both artist and engraver seem to have seized the passing incidents with true Hogarth-like aptitude, and collected them in one group. There is nothing but the evidence of Rowlandson's peculiarities to warrant us in including this print among his works. It is very scarce, and we have not met with his name on any copy of the plate, which is engraved by T. Harmar, the publisher, after a method bearing some resemblance, as far as mechanical execution is concerned, to the early style of James Gillray. We believe the etching is due to Ramberg, but the female figures, and the person of the hairdresser, are unmistakably characteristic of our artist's manner, both as concerns expressions and attitudes, and particularly as regards the drawing of the extremities. [Illustration: THE HUMOURS OF ST. GILES'S.] A 'gin slum' is the centre of attraction; at the sign of the 'Fox and Grapes' the landlord is serving a buxom and somewhat dishevelled Irish beauty with a glass of 'blue ruin.' A drunken-looking butcher is standing treat; another fair member of the hundreds of Drury is entirely overcome, and is a 'deadly lively' illustration of the usual advertisements traditionally found outside the spirit cellars of Hogarth's period: 'dead drunk for a penny, clean straw for nothing.' A dandified French barber, returning from the mansions of his clients in St. James's, with his powdering-bag and paraphernalia under his arm, is stooping, from a motive of gallantry, over the semi-conscious nymph, while an urchin is possessing himself of the tonsor's handkerchief. A baker, taking home ready-cooked joints to the respective owners, is pausing awhile to enjoy the farces transacting around him, while the lamplighter, perched on a ladder above to attend his lamps, is pouring some of his oil over the baked meats by way of sauce. In the distance is shown an altercation between a milk-maid and a fishfag, and a bout of fisticuffs is proceeding farther on. _March 6, 1788._ _The Q. A. loaded with the Spoils of India and Britain._--The Q. A. is a zebra; Pitt is seated, with well-stuffed panniers, in front of this novel steed, loaded with costly spoils, _Rights and Wrongs_; round the Zebra's neck is a bag of _Bulse_, containing some of Warren Hasting's famous ill-gotten diamonds. Pitt is sharply whipping his beast, and declaring 'I have thrown off the mask, I can blind the people no longer, and must now carry everything by my bought majority.' The Q. A. is also trumpeting forth, 'What are children's rights to ambition? I will rule in spite of them, if I can conceal things at Q.' A law lord, said to be intended for Lord Thurlow, who has hold of the animal's head, is filled with certain gloomy apprehensions: 'So many Scotchmen have left their heads behind in this d--d town for treason, I begin to tremble as much as the thief in the rear for my own.' The thief in the rear is the Duke of Richmond, who, with one of his famous defence guns between his legs, is assisting Pitt's advance with a goad, and crying 'Skulking in the rear, out of sight, suits best my character.' A finger-post is pointing to _Tower Hill_, by _B--m (Buckingham) House_. _March 29, 1788._ _Ague and Fever._ (Companion print to _The Hypochondriac_, November 5, 1792.) Designed by James Dunthorne. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by Thomas Rowlandson, 50 Poland Street. And feel by turns the bitter change of fierce extremes-- Extremes by change more fierce.--MILTON. James Dunthorne seems to have had a taste for inventing symbolical renderings of human infirmities; in the present case the two conditions of _Ague and Fever_ are at least ingeniously portrayed. The cold snake-like folds of _Ague_ are twining round the shivering victim, seated as he is in the full heat of a blazing fire; while the quivering heats of _Fever_ personified are in attendance, between the patient and his physician, waiting to add his persecutions to the infirmities which the sick man is already enduring. [Illustration: AGUE AND FEVER.] _July 9, 1788._ _Going to ride St. George; a Pantomime Scene lately performed at Kensington before their Majesties._ Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--This print, with a crowd of others on the same incident, had its rise in an accident: the Prince of Wales, being out driving in a curricle with Mrs. Fitzherbert, by some misadventure was thrown from his vehicle, and his companion shared his fall. In Rowlandson's print the Prince has fallen on his back, and the lady is taking a Phaeton-like flight on to his body. The positions are reversed in the caricatures Gillray and other satirists produced on the subject. George the Third and his Queen, with an escort of Guards, are riding past at the very moment, and they seem greatly interested in the spectacle of their son's downfall. _July 22, 1788._ _Old Cantwell Canvassing for Lord Janus._--The Westminster Election again created further excitement in 1788, as the old field on which the Whigs had gained their triumph against Court interest. The appointment of Lord Hood, in the beginning of July, to a seat at the Admiralty Board rendered a new election necessary. Hood, as the supporter of Pitt, enjoyed the advantage of the Ministerial assistance; the Opposition, however, contested the seat so efficiently in favour of Lord John Townshend, in the Whig interest, that, in spite of the manoeuvres of the Ministry, the Liberal member was returned. In Rowlandson's print a Methodistical congregation is being harangued by the pastor on the respective qualities of the candidates. Lord Hood, whose countenance is wearing a look of sanctified horror, is accommodated with a seat behind his advocate; and a sailor, with a bludgeon and the union-jack unfurled, is also in the pulpit. _Old Cantwell_ has a work in his hand setting forth representations of _Devil Townshend_ and _Saint Hood_. The eloquence of the preacher is directed against the failings of his opponents: 'Lord Hood is a saint, my dear brethren, as immaculate as a newborn babe; but as for Lord Townshend, he'll be d----d to all eternity. I shudder when I tell you he loves a pretty girl; the Opposition to a man are all fond of pretty girls! They go about like lions in pursuit of your wives and daughters. Lord Hood's pious Committee will swear to it,' &c. _July 27, 1788._ _Effects of the Ninth Day's Express from Covent Garden, just arrived at Cheltenham._--The King had retired to Cheltenham, where, according to the artist, he was taking the waters with his family; a postilion has arrived express from London with the latest intelligence concerning the election for Westminster. The 'result of the ninth day's poll--majority for Lord John Townshend, 218,' is too much for his Majesty, who is quite overcome; he has dropped the tumbler from which he was taking the waters, and has fallen into the arms of a page; a peasant, who has been drawing the water for his sovereign, is, in consternation, deluging the royal shoe with a few quarts of the same fluid; Queen Charlotte is horrified, and the pretty Princesses are clasping their hands in consternation. In Court circles it was represented that the Whigs were capable of any atrocity, however deep. _August 1, 1788._ _The School for Scandal._ Published by V. M. Picot, 6 Greek Street, Soho. T. Rowlandson, invt.; V. M. Picot, direxit.--One of the long strips containing subjects arranged in series, which were popular at this period, belonging to the same order as _The Bath Minuet_ and _The Progress of a Lie_, by H. Bunbury; _A Country Dance_ and _A Cotillon_, by W. H. Kingsbury; _The Installation Supper, as given at the Pantheon, by the Knights of the Bath_ (on May 26, 1788), by James Gillray; _The Prince's Bow_, by F. G. Byron; _English Slavery, or a Picture of the Times_, 1788; _Chesterfield Travestied_, by Collings, &c., &c. _The School for Scandal_ consists of seventeen females, of ages varying from a tender maid to an antiquated grandmother; the respective characteristics of the different individuals are hit off with Rowlandson's usual spirit and success; the pretty maidens being extremely flattered, and the traits of less favoured dowagers coming in for grotesque exaggerations. The fair members of this coterie are supposed to be making their several comments, as exclamations, upon a recent elopement, a proceeding not unusual at the time _The School for Scandal_ was given to the public: 'Off! positively off!' 'I'm thunderstruck!' 'Poor creature, I pity her!' 'And with a low-bred fellow!' 'Did you expect anything else?' 'A footman too!' 'Even so!' 'Mind, it's a secret!' 'Not a syllable!' 'Poor as we are, my daughter would not have done so!' 'I! God forbid!' 'Oh! 'tis fashionable life!' 'She vow'd she'd go!' 'So fine a girl! with so good a fortune!' 'I say nothing!' 'An ill-made scoundrel too!' 'He's good enough for her!' _November 25, 1788._ _Filial Piety._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The King's illness gave serious grounds for apprehension; as his chances of recovery became more precarious the Tories thought fit to insinuate that the Prince and his adherents were awaiting the royal dissolution with ill-concealed satisfaction. In _Filial Piety_ we find the King almost at his last gasp; he is stretched on the bed, from which, it was generally concluded, he would never be able to get up; his hand is raised to his head in token of suffering, and he is turning away his face from a spectacle well calculated to disturb the last moments of a pious and suffering parent. The Prince and his friends have just risen from a drunken bout; their spirits have evidently been well sustained; the Heir Apparent is reeling in, with 'Damme, come along; I'll see if the old fellow's ---- or not?' Georgey Hanger has come dancing in to support his comrade; under his arm is his _Knock-me-down Supple-Jack_, and he has a bottle held in readiness for emergencies. Sheridan, who became prominent at this period as the Prince's confidential adviser, is capering and huzzaing. A table is knocked over, and the Sacrament is thrown on the ground; a bishop on his knees, who is offering a prayer for the _Restoration of Health_, is horrified at the scandalous improprieties committed by these boisterous intruders. On the wall is a representation of the _Prodigal Son_, as appropriate to the occasion. _December 26, 1788._ _The Prospect before us._--Although the satirists took some pains to point out the aspirations of the Whigs, they did not conceal their sympathies for the position of the Prince, and the necessity of providing for the security of his interests in the future, as threatened by the Regency restrictions. _The Prospect before us_, at the end of 1788, seemed likely to be shortly realised, until the unexpected recovery of the King put an end to the hopes and intrigues of both parties. The prospect which threatened the hopes of the Prince and his Whig adherents was the practical investment of the sovereign power in the hands of the Queen and Pitt, to the setting aside of the Prince's influence save in name. The crown is divided; one-half is wavering over the head of Pitt, and the other is suspended over the head of the Queen, who is trampling on the coronet and triple plume of the Heir Apparent, 'my son's right.' Queen Charlotte is held by the Minister in leading-strings. Pitt, who had suffered his zeal to outrun his discretion, is understood to have made a statement, in the heat of debate, which his opponents characterised as downright treason; the questionable expression,[30] with some additional colouring, is set down in a written speech which he is displaying in his hand: '_I think myself as much entitled to be Regent as the Prince of Wales._' Pitt, under the shelter of the Queen, is declaring: 'Behind this petticoat battery, with the assistance of _Uncle Toby_ (Duke of Richmond), I shall beat down the legal fortifications of this isle and secure the Treasury at the next general election!' Queen Charlotte is holding a draft of special _Taxes, 1789, by Billy's desire_. _Petticoats, Blue and Buff Cloth; Devonshire-Brown Silk, Portland Stone, Fox Muffs_. The bulky form of Madame Schwellenberg, Mistress of the Robes--the German favourite of the Queen and the popular detestation of the rest of the community--is swaggering along to the House of Lords, with the Mace and Purse; she has supplanted Thurlow as Lord Chancellor, and is already dictating the policy her mistress is to follow: 'Take care to secure the jewels; I have hitherto been confined to the wardrobe, but now mean to preside at the Council, and, with Billy's assistance, the name of Schwellenberg shall be trumpeted to the remotest corner of Rag Fair.' The Queen is proclaiming herself a passive agent: 'I know nothing of the matter. I follow Billy's advice!' The Treasury gates are securely closed; the spectators are declaring that the Premier, Pitt, 'never meddled with a petticoat before;' and Warren Hastings is observing with delight that his apprehensions concerning the action of his enemies are at an end, and that the influence he had made with the Queen, in the form of gifts of jewels, is now likely to become of service: 'My diamonds will now befriend me. Huzza!' _December 1788._ _The English Address._--To this further satire upon the _Regency Restrictions_ Rowlandson has attached the name of H. Wigstead. Pitt is standing on a platform receiving the congratulations of a drove of donkeys. The Prince of Wales, wearing his coronet, plume, and broad riband, is held in fetters, a powerless victim in the hands of 'the Pitt party.' The Duke of Richmond has secured one end of the chain; on the reputation of his abortive fortification propositions he declares, while alluding to the lean figure of his leader, 'Billy's virtue is bomb-proof, gentlemen; he is well fortified in his own good works.' Both the personal peculiarities of the Prime Minister and his attitude are well hit off; he is giving his followers this assurance: 'Gentlemen, I have chained up your Prince; your enemies may insult him as they please; he cannot resent it. I expect to receive all your thanks for this service I have done your Constitution. Should a war break out you have how nobody to defend you--look upon me, gentlemen, as your saviour; I will only tax you a little more, and quarter a few more of my needy relations on you, and will then retire to my new office of Treasurer and Secretary, at Buckingham House.' For these patriotic services the members of the asinine assembly are duly acknowledging their gratitude. _December 26, 1788._ _The Political Hydra._--Fox, in this case, enjoys the distinction of having his career pictorially illustrated in six phases: _Out of place, and in character_; black-bearded and swarthy, his rugged locks unkempt. _In place; out of character_; his beard shaven, his locks powdered. _As he might have been_; crowned with the cap of Liberty. _As he would have been_; wearing a coronet. _As he should have been_; his head severed by the executioner's axe, the punishment awarded traitors. _As he will be_; enjoying the supreme power under the Prince of Wales's diadem. This last prophecy was premature, as was soon seen. _December 29, 1788._ _A Touch on the Times._--Rowlandson has taken his own print of the _Times_, 1784, and has produced a parody upon the same theme. In this case the Prince is again represented as being led to the steps of the throne; one foot is placed on a solid base, the _Voice of the People_; the second step, however, _Public Safety_, is sadly injured; _Virtue_, as indicated on the throne, is a money-bag; the coming ruler is making patriotic professions: 'I would do the best to please my people.' Fox is leaning on the throne; his figure is intended to personify that of _Justice_; a brace of dice-boxes form the new scales of Justice, a bludgeon, topped with an eye, is _the Sword of Justice_. Fox is declaring: 'I have the voice of the people in my eye.' Sheridan is playing the part of _Liberty out at elbows_; while leading the Prince to the throne he is picking his pockets. _Britannia_ is showing a cloven foot; Pitt, provided with a huge extinguisher, is stumbling over the _British Lion_; he is boasting, in reference to the incendiary torches of _Envy, Rebellion, &c._, which sundry Furies are flourishing around, 'I could soon extinguish these puppet-show vapours, if properly supported.' The City Corporation has sent its deputies, as in the former print; their complaint is, 'We have not been taxed this twelvemonth!' _Commerce_ in this instance is depicted as a dissolute harridan, deep sunk in gin. _December 30, 1788._ _Sir Jeffery Dunstan Presenting an Address from the Corporation of Garratt._--Pitt is crowned; his throne is not, however, exactly a seat of dignity; his secretary, Dr. Prettyman, Bishop of Lincoln, is holding an _Address from Manchester_. Sir Jeffery Dunstan, a poor deformed, half-witted, and 'eccentric character' of the time, has shouldered the civic mace, and is presenting an address from the very ancient and respectable Corporation of Garratt, beginning: 'High and mighty Sir.' Pitt is replying: 'Thanks, thanks, my respectable friend; this is the most delicious cordial I have tasted yet.' Brook Watson, Alderman Wilkes, and others are supporting the address. A tomfool, who, as trainbearer, has hold of Sir Jeffery's cloak, is enquiring, 'Did you ever see such grace and dignity in your life, Mr. Alderman?' To which Wilkes is responding, 'Grace--he shall be made Master of the Ceremonies at St. James's!' _December 30, 1788._ _The Word-Eater._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.--This is to inform the public that this extraordinary phenomenon is just arrived from the Continent, and exhibits every day during the sittings of the House of Commons before a select company. To give a complete detail of his wonderful talents would far exceed the bounds of an advertisement, as indeed they surpass the powers of description. He eats single words and evacuates them so as to have a contrary meaning. For example, the word Treason he can make Reason, and of Reason he can make Treason; he can also eat whole sentences, and will again produce them either with a double, different, or contrary meaning, and is equally capable of performing the same operation on the largest volumes and libraries. He purposes, in the course of a few months, to exhibit in public for the benefit and amusement of the Electors of Westminster, when he will convince his friends of his great abilities in this new art, and will provide himself with weighty arguments for his enemies.[31] The hero of this specious advertisement is Fox; he is standing near the Speaker's table, in the House of Commons, where the members are struck with amazement at his dexterity in this novel accomplishment. In one hand the Whig performer is holding out his speech on the _Rights of the Prince_, and the _Explanation of that Speech_ in the other. 'All these,' he declares, 'I will devour next.' Two important and bulky works are at his feet, waiting their turn to be devoured--_Jus Divinum of Kings_ and _Principles of Toryism_. On the table, placed before the 'Word-Eater,' is a provision of considerable substance which will test his further powers of digestion--_Statutes at Large_, _Magna Charta_, _Principles of the Constitution_, and _Rights of the People_. _December 31, 1788._ _Blue and Buff Loyalty._--The sympathy openly manifested by the Whig faction for the Prince's prospects of succeeding to power is satirised at the expense of _Blue and Buff_ susceptibilities. _Saturday._--The Royal Physician is drawn looking very downcast, with his gold-headed cane to his lips. 'Doctor: How is your patient to-day?'--'Rather worse, sir.' _Blue and Buff Loyalty_ is made to exult somewhat indecorously: 'Ha, ha! rare news!' _Sunday._--'Doctor: How is your patient to-day?' The physician's face expresses restored confidence: 'Better, thank God!' An expression the reverse of loyal or pious is put into the mouths of the disappointed faction. [Illustration: HOUSEBREAKERS.] 1788. _Housebreakers._ Drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinted by T. Malton. Republished by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly, August 1, 1791.--This plate represents the domestic felicity of well-to-do citizens being rudely broken in upon by robbers and threatening assassins. A very critical situation for all the actors concerned. What the next moment may produce it is impossible to conjecture, so much depends upon the first shot; it is truly a moment of suspense. Whether the horse-pistols of the burglars will miss fire, and the formidable blunderbuss held by the respectable householder will lodge its contents--which would be, seemingly, enough to mow down a regiment--in the dastardly bodies of the midnight marauders, must remain a problem, the solution of which is lost beyond recovery. [Illustration: LOVE AND DUST.] 1788. _Love and Dust._--Cinder-sifters pursuing their grimy avocation somewhere in the outskirts, in the neighbourhoods where the great pyramidal heaps of dust and cinders were to be found in the last century. That romance should soften the front of labour, and that _Black Sal_ and _Dusty Bob_ should lighten the sifting of cinders with a mixture of conviviality and flirtation, is but another proof that human nature is everywhere constituted on the same susceptible principles--a fact open to demonstration. The present print, which, in its way, is about as terrible in its vagabond fidelity and grim humour as anything which Rowlandson has left us, has been included in the present series, with a due sense of editorial responsibility, as affording a fair instance of our caricaturist's talent in Hogarth's realistic walk. To draw this and similar groups from the life, Rowlandson had only to take a stroll from Soho to the corner where the Gray's Inn Road now stands. On the ground which Argyle Street, Liverpool Street, and Manchester Street at present occupy, in the caricaturist's day was spread 'that sublime, sifted wonder of cockneys, the cloud-kissing dust-heap, which sold for twenty thousand pounds.' The sum quoted is apocryphal; but it is known that, by some chance, Russia heard of these famous accumulations of dust and cinders--said to have been existing on the same spot since the Great Fire of London--and, as the fallen city of Moscow required rebuilding after Napoleon's famous Russian campaign, the government of the Czar purchased the vast piles and shipped them to Moscow. This estate--the site of the ground on which the dust-heap stood--was purchased by the 'Pandemonium Company' in 1826, for fifteen thousand pounds. The Liverpool Street Theatre was erected, and the surrounding grounds subsequently let on building leases. Beyond the Gray's Inn Road heap--when the Caledonian Road was a rural thoroughfare--was the Battle-Bridge Estate of some twenty acres, described in the 'New Monthly Magazine' (1833) as 'the grand centre of dustmen, scavengers, horse and dog dealers, knackermen, brickmakers, and other low but necessary professionalists.' As Mr. T. C. Noble--the descendant of the original lucky speculator who secured the dustheap, and sixteen dilapidated tenements, as he relates, for about 500_l._--communicated to Pink's _History of Clerkenwell_, 'the site of the mountain of cinders is now covered by the houses of Derby Street; the names of the thoroughfares erected on this estate were derived from the popular ministers of that day.' [Illustration: LUXURY AND DESIRE.] _November 28, 1788._ _Luxury and Desire._ Published by W. Rowlandson, 49 Broad Street, Bloomsbury.--A battered old hulk--a regular ancient commodore--is forcing a well-filled purse on the acceptance of a graceful and well-favoured maiden. [Illustration: LUST AND AVARICE.] _November 29, 1788._ _Lust and Avarice._ Published by W. Rowlandson, 49 Broad Street, Bloomsbury.--A pretty simple-looking girl, dressed in a countrified garb, is exacting contributions from a miserly curmudgeon, who it seems is extremely reluctant to part with his money. [Illustration: STAGE COACH AND BASKET.] _December 3, 1788._ _Stage Coach with Basket: the Dolphin Inn._ Published by William Rowlandson, 49 Broad Street, Bloomsbury.--A scene of bustle and activity, consequent upon the departure of a stage coach from a posting-house in a flourishing country town. From the business going on in the background it is evidently market-day. The coach is taking up its complement of passengers at the _Dolphin Inn_; the landlord of the house is civilly doing the honours of his establishment, and conducting a party of new arrivals to the comforts of his hostelry. [Illustration: AN EPICURE.] 1788. _An Epicure._--Another Hogarth-like study, but touched with all the knowledge and spirit peculiarly the attributes of Rowlandson. An over-fed gourmand, whose hopes of happiness are evidently centred on perishable things, is exulting, with pantomimic rapture, over a delicacy in the way of fish. (See 1801, republished.) [Illustration: A COMFORTABLE NAP IN A POST-CHAISE.] 1788. _A Comfortable Nap in a Post-chaise._--A well-fed easy-going pair, reposing in a jogging post-chaise, are soothed into slumber by the motion, and are being rattled along oblivious of their surroundings. [Illustration: A FENCING MATCH.] 1788. _A Fencing Match._--Rowlandson was an amateur, as we have noticed, of all manly exercises. In his day riding, boxing,[32] and especially fencing, were considered indispensable accomplishments for the man of 'ton.' We have had occasion to allude to our artist's intimacy with Angelo, the fashionable professor of sword exercises, who notices the caricaturist's works with appreciation, and mentions him with the highest personal esteem, in various passages of his memoirs and anecdotes. Rowley executed numerous sketches for his friend Angelo; and he further engraved a series of plates for him, besides a large and interesting view of his fencing-rooms. The present subject, which is particularly excellent as regards grouping and execution, probably represents an encounter at Angelo's rooms, either in the West or in the City, in both of which parts of town he held establishments. The principal figures, and the personages grouped around the fencers, were no doubt meant to designate portraits; but as no evidence has been preserved to this date that would assist in more than a partial identification of one or two professional celebrities, it is nearly impossible to recognise the major part of the individuals present. 1788. _A Print Sale. A Night Auction._--The rooms of an old auctioneer, where night sales of pictures, drawings, and prints, were held. The auctioneer is seated under a candelabra, at his desk, which is placed upon a circle of boards running round the apartment, and forming a trestle for the display of engravings. The customers, connoisseurs, collectors, artists, &c., are seated on the outside of the circle, and on either side of the seller. The sale-clerk, and the men who are showing the lots, are in the space within the centre. Contemporary references further describe these 'night auctions,' where the caricaturist's drawings frequently figured, and which Rowlandson occasionally attended, in company with his friends Mitchell the banker, Parsons and Bannister the comedians, _Antiquity_ Smith, _Iron-wig_ Heywood, Caleb Whiteford, and other _dilettanti_. See page 70. [Illustration: THE PEA CART.] 1788 (?). _The Pea-cart._ 1789. Several of the prints included under our description of the political caricatures for 1789 are confessedly of somewhat doubtful parentage. In one or two cases, other artists, like Kingsbury, are entitled to the credit of having a share in the prints we here include with Rowlandson's works. After carefully examining and comparing the questionable plates with those whose authenticity is certain, we have selected only such examples as we feel convinced are not altogether out of place in this volume, while we acknowledge a doubt of their precise authenticity. It is the old story of the engraver with more than one publisher disguising his handiwork, as Gillray and other caricaturists are well known to have done, to accommodate rival print-selling firms, without appearing to depart from the loyalty due to their principal employer. In the case of Gillray, it will be remembered, his allegiance was enlisted, and in a more special manner than is usual in the relation between artist and publisher, in the interests of the Humphreys. In the instance of Rowlandson, although he did not supply any one firm with his works, to the exclusion of other publishers, at the period we are describing--and before either Mr. Ackermann, of the Strand, took our artist under his protecting care, or Mr. Tegg, of Cheapside, began to pour his cheaper caricatures into the market--it will be recognised that Rowlandson's best prints were issued by Mr. S. W. Fores, of Piccadilly. He occasionally, when a popular subject gave unusual impulse to the demand for satirical plates, supplied Mr. W. Holland of Oxford Street with his etchings, slightly varying his style as far as the manipulative portion of the engraving was concerned, but retaining all the more special features of his identity. Indeed it is doubtful if he sought to disguise his handiwork in the sense adopted by Gillray, who did not hesitate, it has been said, to produce inferior piracies, executed by his own hand, with intentional clumsiness and apparently defective skill, after his own masterpieces, to accommodate caricature-sellers who wished to secure his works otherwise than through the legitimate channel of his own publishers, who are known to have been both respectable and liberal in their dealings with this wayward and unscrupulous genius. _January 1, 1789._ _The Vice Q----'s Delivery at the Old Soldier's Hospital in Dublin._--Published in Dublin; republished by W. Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--This print alludes to a certain interesting event. The Lord Lieutenant's lady has apparently been confined in a ward of the Soldier's Hospital, Dublin. One old veteran, who is nursing the bold young stranger, is declaring: 'Deel, my saul, but he'll be a brave soldier.' The distinguished parent is responding: 'Thanks, thanks, my brave sergeant, you shall be knighted this day.' Soldier's porridge is supplied, as a substitute for caudle. An invalided warrior is inclined to quarrel with this proceeding: 'Downright robbery, by St. Patrick! We'll soon be famished if our broth is to be stole from us in this manner.' _January 8, 1789._ _The modern Egbert, or the King of Kings._--The Prince of Wales is pictured in the position of Egbert when towed by kings on the river. The vexed question of the '_Regency Restrictions_' is still the difficulty of the situation. His Royal Highness is held captive; his hands and feet are bound in golden chains. The arms of the _Stork and Anchor_, as hung out upon Pitt's barge, are placed above the _Royal Standard of England_. The modern Egbert, while passing St. Stephen's, is declaring, in reference to his fettered condition, 'I feel not for myself but for my country.' Pitt, wearing the dress in which he is usually represented--the Windsor uniform--and with an imperial diadem placed upon his head, is acting as steersman to his barge, which carries a huge flag inscribed with his arms, and the words '_Devil take right, P. W._' The young statesman is encouraging his crew to 'pull together, boys!' The four oarsmen are all crowned as kings. Thurlow the Thunderer, with his diadem perched above his chancellor's wig, is acting as stroke, and pulling away vengefully: 'Damme, I've got precedence of the young lion!' The Marquis of Buckingham is asserting, 'I'll answer for the Shillalagh without authority!' Dundas is rowing with a long golden spoon; he is declaring, 'The prince shall remember old _Nemo Impune_;' and the Duke of Richmond, with one of his famous guns as an oar, is promising 'We'll show him Gallic faith!' 1789. _The Pittfall._--The chance of catching the Crown--in the print a kind of _ignis fatuus_, has lured Pitt and the parliamentary allies (who supported his measures for 'restricting the powers of the Regent') to the brink of destruction. The Pittfall is nothing less than the infernal regions, pictorially set forth as smoke, and a great deal of flame, with fantastic devils, furies and pitchforks, all seething together. Pitt is making a flying leap to seize the Crown, which is fluttering above his reach: 'I'll have thee or perish in the attempt, for my ambition knows no bounds!' The leading demon is prepared with a barbed prong, to receive the Minister on his descent below, while offering Pitt the comforting assurance: 'You will be elected Regent in our dominions _nem. con._' The Duke of Richmond has overstepped the margin, and is plunging headlong into the clutches of his tormentors. 'Spare me this time,' he cries; adding, with a liberality little likely to be appreciated in the quarter to which it is addressed, 'and you shall have coal in future without duty.' A friend is assuring the Duke, in allusion to his left-handed descent from Charles the Second, 'All your great grandfather's w----s are waiting dinner for you!' Thurlow is hurling at the flitting diadem with the Chancellor's mace. He is proclaiming his resolution with a strong asseveration, 'I'll have a knock at it!' The Duke of Grafton also descended, it will be remembered, from the 'Merry Monarch,' is declaring, 'Junius has lamed me, or I'd have a knock at it too!' _January 30, 1789._ _The Propagation of a Truth._ H. W. invt. Published by Holland, Oxford Street.--Bunbury's long serial slip, '_The Propagation of a Lie_,' enjoyed a wide reputation. In the present print Rowlandson, under the suggestion of his friend Wigstead, has turned the social satire to political purposes. The Tory chances seemed utterly forlorn at the time of the King's illness; indeed, the loss of their offices was only a question of days, until an unexpected change in the royal health cleared off their apprehensions. At the beginning of the year 1789, however, no one doubted that a week or two would see Fox and the Whigs back in power. In the _Propagation of a Truth_ the members of the threatened Ministry are represented as imparting their personal apprehensions to one another confidentially. _R----e (Rose)_, one of the Treasury Secretaries, is rushing in with this gloomy intelligence: 'The people refuse to address.' The profane Thurlow is invoking objurgations upon the optics of the public. Pitt is collapsing: 'Then I am done up!' Lord Sidney is declaring: 'It is all dickey with me!' Dundas is stamping with vexation: 'I'll gang to my own country, and sell butter and brimstone!' The Duke of Richmond is admitting his fears: 'I begin to smell powder;' and the Duke of Grafton is corroborating his colleague's theory. Lord Chatham, at the Admiralty, is asserting: 'I thought myself snug.' Lord Camden confesses, from his experience, 'I should have known better.' Brook Watson, with his wooden leg, is saying: 'I cannot Brook this, I'll hop off!' Grenville, who occupied the Speaker's chair (January 5 to May), does not relish losing his new wig. Old Alderman Wilkes, who had ratted extensively in his time, and who was, at the date of the present caricature, slyly paying his court to both sides simultaneously, is congratulating himself upon the famous squint immortalised by Hogarth: 'I can look either way!' Lord Carmarthen is uncomfortable: 'I've been in anguish all night!' Both factions of Tories and Whigs alike were satirised alternately. If one print was severe on the Ministry and their adherents, it was certain to be followed in turn by no less cutting strictures upon their antagonists of the Opposition. _January 21, 1789._ _Loose Principles._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--Fox is represented in his study; the busts of Wat Tyler and Jack Cade are its ornaments. His book shelves offer '_The Laws of Pharaoh_,' '_Political Prints_,' '_Life of Oliver Cromwell_,' '_Cataline_,' '_Memoirs of Sam House_,' and kindred literature. Fox is plunged in distress; Burke is engaged in a certain quest; 'not searching for precedents, but consequences.' Sheridan--whose foot is standing on a volume of Congreve's plays, marked '_School for Scandal_,' indicating that this comedy was somewhat of a plagiarism from the works of his predecessor--has charge of the Regent's clyster-pipe, his confidential appointment being that of 'Principal Promoter of Loose Principles.' _January 28, 1789._ _Suitable Restrictions._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The Heir Apparent, according to this print, is treated as an infant. A long pinafore, and a child's cap, are employed to carry out the theory of his puerility. Pitt, in court dress, is making sure of his ward, for he is holding him in leading-strings. Pitt's _restrictions_ effectually prevent the Prince from stooping to take up the Crown, which is the subject of a new game of ring-tor. The leading Whigs, shown kneeling down at a little distance, are taking part in the sport. Fox is making a shot at the ring, in the centre of which stands the Crown of England: 'My game for a crown!' Sheridan's chief anxiety is for his own interests: 'Knuckle down, and don't funk, Charley.' Burke, who is eager to take his chance, is exclaiming: 'My turn next, Sherry!' _January 30, 1789._ _Neddy's Black Box, containing what he does not value three skips of a louse._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The Prince appears on his throne, a full-fledged Regent by anticipation, with all his plumes and paraphernalia. The ex-patriot Burke is kneeling in an attitude of courtier-like servility, and presenting the head of Charles the First, preserved in the _Treasury Box_: 'My Liege, I told them in the House no day so proper to settle the Regency as Charles's martyrdom.' Sheridan, who wears the blue and buff uniform like his colleague, is supporting the orator: 'I, too, am for despatch; such days best suit our purpose.' From Sherry's pocket is peeping the pamphlet, '_Horne Tooke's Letter on the Prince's Marriage_,' which operated somewhat like a spark in a powder magazine at this date. A quotation from Edmund Burke's speech, referring to the day most suitable for the discussion of the Regency Bill, is added at the foot of the plate: 'Why not debate it on Friday? I say it is the only day in the year on which it ought to be debated (Charles's martyrdom), and carried up in the _Black Box_.' 1789. _State Butchers._--In this view of the Prince's situation, the Heir Apparent is pictured as the victim of the combinations which Pitt contrived to hinder the Prince's accession to power by vexatious restrictions. The principal figure is that of the future Regent, laid out at length on the anatomy table, ready to be operated upon by the dissecting knives which his antagonists are eagerly setting to work. Pitt occupies the chair as president of this college of Surgeons; in his left hand is a paper, '_Thanks from the City of London with 50,000l._' He is holding a wand in his right hand, with which he is pointing to the heart of his subject, beneath the Prince's Star of Brunswick; he is thus directing his head anatomist, Dundas:--'The good qualities of his heart will certainly ruin our plan; therefore cut that out first.' Lord Thurlow, in his Chancellor's robes, is, like Hamlet, musing over the head of the fallen prince. Lord Sydney has his knife held ready for a desperate gash. The two Stuart peers are assisting as amateur butchers. The Duke of Grafton has a dissecting knife in either hand; at his feet is a formidable basket of saws and cutting instruments; his preparations are on an extensive scale, while the Duke of Richmond is prepared to resort to even clumsier methods, since _Uncle Toby_ is wielding a heavy executioner's axe in readiness to cut in at any signal. [Illustration: A NEW SPEAKER.] _February 6, 1789._ _A New Speaker._ Published by H. Holland, Oxford Street.--Addington, the Speaker, is at his table. Pitt, standing behind him, has thrust a speaking trumpet into his mouth, through which the orator, to the amazement of the other members, is holding forth: 'Eyes has he and sees not, neither is there any breath in his mouth, but through the hollow of his head shall the sound of my own voice be exalted, and through the stuttering of his tongue my intentions be more fully explained. Keep together, my good friends, till I go out, and you will then probably follow me, but I will work changes for you. See how this rank Tory becomes a good Whig!' The mace is lying on the table beside the '_City Address, 50,000l._; _Aldermen Hoppikicky_, _Squintum_, _Peter Grievous, &c._,' and a proposed _List of Taxes_, which includes such items as _Fox-tails_, _Play_ (_i.e._ gambling) _Houses_ &c., fanciful personal enactments levelled against Pitt's great rival. _February 7, 1789._ _Britannia's Support, or the Conspirators Defeated._ Published by H. Holland, Oxford Street.--The Prince, who is looking somewhat ill at ease under the circumstances, has been attacked by Pitt and his allies, the Stuart dukes. Pitt is aiming an awkward blow at the tutelary divinity and her protégé with a terrible-looking axe. The Duke of Richmond is firing a musket; and the Duke of Grafton, as a midnight assassin, is operating with a dagger and a dark lantern. Britannia has taken the Heir Apparent to her arms, and is shielding the menaced Prince with her person. _February 7, 1789._ _The Hospital for Lunatics._--A companion to the preceding. The results of the Tory excitement have landed certain sufferers in the Lunatic Asylum. The mad doctor is going his rounds, he is declaring; 'I see no signs of convalescence!' His assistant, following with a few strait-waistcoats for the refractory patients, is supporting the opinion of his chief: 'They must all be in a state of coercion!' Pitt is the first sufferer; he is wearing a coronet of straws, and is waving a sceptre of twigs; over his head is the notice: '_Went mad, supposing himself next heir to a Crown_.' In the adjoining cell is the Duke of Richmond, who is buried in the contemplation of toy cannons--'_Went mad in the study of fortifications_.' Next to him is another victim, '_Driven mad by a political itching_.' _February 7, 1789._ _Britannia's Support._ _February 15, 1789._ _Going in State to the House of Peers, or a Piece of English Magnificence; dedicated to Mr. Pitt and his 267 Liberal friends._ Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--This print, with one or two others of similar character, have been attributed to Kingsbury. A careful comparison of these doubtful plates, with the more recognised etchings of both Rowlandson and Kingsbury, has led the writer to the conclusion that several at least of the caricatures published by Holland at this time, owe their existence, at least in part, to the skill of the former, although he has in some degree modified his usual handling. The Heir Apparent is proceeding in burlesque state to the chamber of Peers. A ragged mob is in attendance. The arms on his carriage are turned upside down, coachman and footmen are of the shabbiest, and the slovenly coach is drawn by eight miserable animals, who can barely crawl, while one of the broken-kneed leaders has actually come to grief. The Tories have taken their places at certain windows to view the procession. The Duke of Orleans (who was on a visit to this country), or the French Ambassador, is amazed at such a dowdy spectacle; next to his window is Lord Amherst. The Stuart-Dukes of Richmond and Grafton, sharing a window, are agreeing that the Prince's turn-out is 'Well enough for any of the Brunswick race;' they have put up at the sign of the '_Lion in the Toils_.' The Marquis of Carmarthen is saying, 'Very pretty indeed;' he is at the sign of '_The Restrictions_' (a picture of the Prince in the pillory is on the signboard); his neighbour Pitt is declaring the show to be 'a very magnificent spectacle, upon my honour.' Lords Hood and Chatham, at the sign of '_The Chatham and Hood_,' a frigate labouring in a storm being the signboard, are on the look-out: 'The great naval review was nothing to it.' Lord Chatham is assuring his companion that the show is 'infinitely superior to my father's funeral.' Lord Thurlow is asseverating with an oath, 'It eclipses all that has been ever seen in Rome!' _March 6, 1789._ _A Sweating for Opposition, by Dr. Willis Dominisweaty and Co._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The health of the King, according to the reports of his physicians, began to improve from this date. It was hinted rather broadly that this intelligence was not so agreeable to the Opposition as they might desire. The print sets forth the new treatment by which the growing consequence of the Whigs was to be reduced. The several patients are placed in small furnaces, with a blazing fire below each; the doctors are attending to the stoking with a will. Burke is becoming quite limp in the process: 'I have got no juice left.' Fox is becoming furious; he is gesticulating and shouting, 'I have sweated enough.' Sheridan is venemous: 'This is scandalous; the Baily's (Bailiffs) have sufficiently sweated me!' The Prince, in an agony, is crying: 'I suppose they call this a Regency sweat.' A lady next to him is declaring: 'I sweat with desire.' Weltjé, the Prince's house-steward and head cook--a man who enjoyed considerable reputation in spite of the satirists--is asserting: 'I never sweat so much at cooking in my life.' Mrs. Fitzherbert, who is separated from her admirer, is highly indignant: 'I sweat with jealousy; what disregard to the marriage right!' _March 10, 1789._ _Edward the Black Prince receiving Homage._ Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--Thurlow, in his Chancellor's robes, is assuming the sovereign position; he has the crown and sceptre; Adam, wearing his counsellor's gown, has come to 'kiss hands.' According to the print _the black-browed Thunderer_ is blessed with the hairy paws of a bear, not omitting the claws. On the wall, in the background, is a picture of _Blood stealing the Crown_. _March 7, 1789._ _The Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary. A gallantee Show._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The six members of the so-called Irish Embassy are galloping up to the colonnades of Carlton House, each mounted on a jibbing Irish bull; the riders have their faces to the tails, by which they have taken hold in order to secure their seats. The Marquis of Lothian and the Duke of Leinster are urging the deputation forward. It is understood they have arrived somewhat late. The holder of the address is declaring: 'Aye, aye, the Marquis of Buckingham will remember me when I go back again.' The other deputies are making pertinent observations: 'The folks stare at us as they would at wild beastises!' 'What a nice errand is this; make him Regent whether or no!' 'I say, my friend, we shall be there the day before the fair!' 'Well! yes, I dare say well! why, he was so bad he could say nothing but "_What, what, what_," when we left Dublin!' 'What, no occasion for a Regent? then we will go back again and tell the lads we are all mad, and, by the powers, 'tis my opinion we are come over for nothing at all, at all!' The cook of the _Pall Mall Ordinary_ is thrusting his stout body out of a window opposite Carlton House and declaring: 'Begar, I must go prepare more sourkraut for dese wild bullocks!' _March 15, 1789._ _Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary!!! In a few days will be published the Return of the Ambassadors._--The memorable six are mounted on their prancing bulls, with a sack of potatoes behind each for a saddle, and as provisions for the journey; all are armed with bludgeons. The delegates are headed by a personage with a crozier and a mitre, a sort of episcopal leader, who is exhorting his followers to 'Make haste, my honies!' The Duke of Leinster is flourishing his shillalagh: 'No restrictions, by the Holy Cross of St. Patrick!' Others are crying: 'How our Majority will astonish the young King!' Some doubt crosses their minds as to his Majesty's possible restoration to health: 'My dear, I was told that he was recovering fast!' 'No! as mad as a hatter!' _Press Notices._ _March 2, 1789._ _Address from the Parliament of Ireland to the Prince of Wales._ (_Morning Herald_).--'We have, however, the consolation of reflecting, that this severe calamity hath not been visited upon us until the virtues of your Royal Highness have been so matured as to enable your Royal Highness to discharge the duties of an important trust, for the performance whereof the eyes of all his Majesty's subjects of both kingdoms are directed to your Royal Highness.' _March 4, 1789._ _Irish Embassy Uniform._ (_World_).--The great open pocket _on either side_ is this: When the Duke of Leinster was coming, he wrote indefinitely to have a new coat. 'I would not be in his coat for something,' said Lord Robert Fitzgerald pleasantly, when he heard of the mischievous folly. But wishing to do the best he could for his brother, he ordered him the _Constitutional_ uniform of _Blue_ and _Orange_. This, of course, the Duke, when he came, would not wear; and new clothes being hastily wanted, Jennings and Headington, the tailors, were left at liberty, _and they made the_ GREAT OPEN POCKET _on either side_! _March 19, 1789._ _Ireland--by Express: The Six Amazing Bulls._ (_World._)--'The proprietor of these unruly animals begs leave, through the channel of the _World_, to return his most grateful thanks for the great encouragement Mr. GRATTAN'S _Bulls_ met with in London, and most particularly from their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York. 'He is sorry to say that upon the road these animals grew very unruly. The completely horned one was four times beaten, for taking what did not belong to him; and the _little bull_, called 'my lord,' who had but a stump of a tail, had that cut off by a wicked boy for his diversion. 'The other four all tumbled into the water, as they landed at Dublin, and looked so ill, when they were driven into Mr. Grattan's stable, "that he wished to heaven he had never sent them over!" 'The proprietor has likewise to add, that they were so well fed by the kindness of the gentlemen in London, that they do not again take kindly to Irish potatoes. He hopes, however, by beating them regularly every day, he shall drive sense into them. 'The collection for seeing these amazing animals upon the road was very handsome. Since their arrival here, the Lord-Lieutenant has had an offer of them for sale, and _very cheap_; but he thought they had been so "hawked about," by being up at public show in London, he would have nothing to do with them. So the bulls are where they were--with the proprietor.' _March 9, 1789._ _The Answer to the Irish Ambassadors._ (_Morning Chronicle_). Your duty to the King is great, As all mankind must see; And, though you're come a day too late, You're welcome still to me. You'll guess what want of speech conceals, As Irishmen should do; You'll guess my understanding feels, My heart remembers, too. You take a different line, I see, From England and oppose her; But well I know you disagree To make the Union closer. As to the rest of your Address, I know not what to do; I fear 'tis treason to say Yes, I'm loth to answer No. Should he relapse, indeed, I might Accept the Irish sway; But that I cannot learn to-night, So come another day. _March 2, 1789._ _The Prince's Answer to the Address of the Deputation from Ireland._ (_Morning Herald_).--'"If, in conveying my grateful sentiments on their conduct, in relation to the King, my father, and to the inseparable interests of the two kingdoms, I find it impossible adequately to express my feelings on what relates to _myself_, I trust you will not be the less disposed to believe that I have an understanding to comprehend the value of what they have done, a heart that must remember, and principles that will not suffer me to abuse their confidence. '"But the fortunate change which has taken place in the circumstances which gave occasion to the Address agreed to by the Lords and Commons of Ireland induces me for a few days to delay giving a final answer; trusting that the joyful event of his Majesty's resuming the personal exercise of his Royal authority may then render it only necessary for me to repeat those sentiments of gratitude and affection for the loyal and generous people of Ireland which I feel indelibly imprinted on my heart." 'The Prince of Wales has conducted himself in this delicate point with the circumspection and propriety that has marked the whole of his conduct in the late melancholy and critical circumstances. He called to his aid the first legal ability in the kingdom; and on the subject of the answer to the Irish Address had a conference of several hours with the Lord Chancellor and Lord Loughborough.' _March 16, 1789._ _The Ambassadors' Extraordinary Return, on Bulls without Horns._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The same personages we saw caricatured on the previous plate are represented in the sequel returning to Dublin. They have exchanged their famous Irish bulls for donkeys; their potatoes have gone, but they are liberally provided with _Regency Cakes_ in their place. Their Pope, whose donkey's head is ornamented with the plume of three feathers as borne by the Prince of Wales, is received by an eager deputation on his arrival: 'What news, what news? The tidings tell. Make haste and tell us all; say why are they thus mounted? Is the Regent come and all?' The leader is replying: 'I'll tell you all in no time. Why, you must know the King is better than the Regent--that is all!' The Marquis of Lothian is declaring, 'Master Walgee (Weltjé) made us such Regent's and Regency cakes!' The Duke of Leinster is crying, 'Aye, my lads, Dr. Willis has done the King over, and the Regent won't take it!' Other members of the deputation are remarking, 'The English lads were so merry, by my shoul, they were always a-laughing at us!' 'Ambassadors Extraordinary, by St. Patrick, but I've forgot what we have done!' 'Done? Why carried the address, and brought it back again, with all these cakes. A deal better than potatoes!' _April 4, 1789._ _The Rochester Address, or the Corporation going to Eat Roast Pork and Oysters with the Regent._--The procession of the Corporation of Rochester is headed by the Mayor (Matthews), who is holding the _Address_ at the end of a pole; he proposes to send the Regent 'some chips.' The rest of this train, professional men and traders of Rochester, are promising to favour the heir to the throne with their specialities. Alderman Spice will 'assist him with long sixes.' Alderman Thompson will favour him with his _Preventative_; another, a brewer, will send him 'some _Chatham Butt_;' Prentice professes to 'give him thirteen to the dozen, and all sour;' another member of the Corporation, a barber by trade, is proposing to 'shave him.' Sparks, a lawyer, is declaring, 'I'll beg to speak to Sherry for his business, bailing, actions, demands, writs of error; that is, if he'll promise to see me paid!' Bristow is guaranteeing 'he shall never be tried by the Court of Conscience.' Robinson is asserting, 'These are your right sort; none of your quack;' and Alderman Nicholson, who is bringing up the rear, with a brick and trowel, is looking forward to the job 'of making him some fortifications!' _April 22, 1789._ _The Grand Procession to St. Paul's on St. George's Day, 1789: an exact view of the Lord Mayor carrying the City Sword, bareheaded, &c._ Published by Holland, Oxford Street.--Upon the King's recovery the popular tide turned abruptly, and, before the end of April, the satirists were making capital out of the excessive gush of loyalty which greeted the King's restoration to health. The felicitations offered on this occasion were not, however, more extravagant than the congratulations which would have been offered the Regent had the case been altered. In the present print the procession is on its way to St. Paul's to return thanks; the Volunteers are keeping the line of route; the windows are filled with rejoicing spectators, smiling and bowing, with ribands, favours, and mottoes, inscribed with printed sentiments complimentary to the monarch. A man, wearing a leek in his hat, is at the head of the train, seated on a goat; the Aldermen, without hats or wigs, are finding some difficulty in keeping their seats. The Lord Mayor has a nervous time of it, while holding the Sword of State; two footmen are steadying him by the leg--his horse has been slightly startled--as he is passing a noisy band of musicians, stationed in a balcony. 'And all the people rejoiced and sung, Long live the King! May the King live for ever!' The King's well-appointed team of eight white horses is passing a show--the Royal Waxworks: 'Here you may see King Solomon in all his glory!' The state carriage contains the King, the Queen, and the coarse-featured Madame Schwellenberg; the Guards are bringing up the rear. _October 23, 1789._ _An Antiquarian._ Published by W. Holland, 50 Oxford Street. _October 24, 1789._ _Sergeant Kite, Sergent Recruiteur._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. (N.B. Fores' Museum now opened. Admission, one shilling.)--The Duke of Orleans is represented as Sergeant Kite, dressed in the uniform of a hussar--a tight tunic and breeches, given, in the coloured versions of the plate, as green, faced with crimson, and richly laced with gold; with a furred cocked hat and enormous cockade; inscribed on the scarf he is wearing are the words '_Vive la Liberté!_' destined shortly to become the keynote for all the reckless destruction, indiscriminate slaughter, and bloodthirsty atrocities of the great French Revolution. An enormous sabre is trailed by his side, and he is resting on a halbert with a head shaped like an axe. By his side is his drummer, whose figure the artist has treated with the broadest grotesque; the Frenchman's enormous earrings, together with a pigtail of inordinate length, are exciting the wonder of the spectators. The _Sergent Recruiteur_ is beating up his recruits at Billingsgate amongst the fishfags. The _Poissardes_ of France were making themselves a terrible reputation throughout Europe by the violence of their behaviour, and the satirist hinted in the present plate that the Duke of Orleans would be able to secure congenial revolutionary levies amongst the muscular vixens of the fish-market here. The viragoes of Billingsgate do not seem to favour the Duke's mission; they are giving the Frenchman what may be termed a warm reception: his advances are met with taunts, contumely, and apparently by challenges to ignominious personal combat. _January 1, 1789._ _Grog on Board._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. Republished January 1794.--'Sweet Poll of Plymouth' has been smuggled on board during the absence, let us believe, of the chief officers, who have genteelly gone to take _Tea on Shore_ in the port. A pretty 'mid-shipmite' and a black boy are deep in the perusal of a volume of fascinating voyages. The rest of the persons represented are, from the dog upwards, variously interested in their fair female visitor. One tar, in a fur cap, is singing verses, with his truant eye fixed on the nymph instead of on his music; another old salt, who is handing the punchbowl about, has evidently neglected his pipe, which he is vainly endeavouring to rekindle from the bowl of a comrade, who has eyes for nothing but the lady. 'Poll' is quite a Cleopatra for beauty, grace, and love of pleasure, if not for frailty and splendour; she is reposing with negligent ease in the stalwart arms of a good-looking sailor, for want of a more luxurious couch, and her foot is resting on the knee of another favoured swain, who seems proportionately proud of the honour. Her _débonnaire_ ladyship is not only distinguished for the beauty of person and condescension of manners essential to make herself adored by poor Jack; she sports the wealth of jewellery supposed to be irresistibly gratifying in his sight--a pair of bracelets, earrings, imposing shoe-buckles, and, to cap all, a _pair_ of watches, with massive chains and heavy trinkets galore, disposed on either side. [Illustration: GROG ON BOARD.] _January 1789._ _Tea on Shore._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. Republished January 1, 1794.--A companion to the last print, affording the suppositious contrast between high and low life in port. The officers are leaving the vulgar jollifications of _Grog on Board_ for delicate flirtations over the tea-table on shore. In those days, when opportunities for personal distinction were more frequent, commanders were recognised and entertained as heroes, and their visits on shore were not unfrequently a round of agreeable festivals and social triumphs. Rowlandson has shown how graciously the fair are regarding the sons of Neptune, who are doing their best to create favourable impressions in return. The head of the house, who is not apparently of the slightest consequence on this occasion, is left to indifference and the charge of the tea urn; while the naval commanders are carrying all the admiration before them, on the venerable principle, lyrically rendered by John Dryden (although the sentiment was no novelty in his day), that 'none but the brave deserve the fair.' [Illustration: TEA ON SHORE.] _February 1, 1789._ _Careless Attention._ Published by J. Griggs, 216 Holborn.--A corpulent sufferer, disabled by gout, is thrown into a dreadful quandary; he is seated by the fire, where the kettle is boiling over, deluging the place, and threatening the invalid with the dangers of scalding. The table, and the little comforts spread thereon, are thrown down in the struggle to get out of the dangerous vicinity; the gouty cripple is vainly shouting and storming for assistance; his nurse, who is much too young, sprightly, and good-looking for her situation, is seen at the door of the apartment, struggling in the embraces of a dashing young spark--probably the master's undutiful heir; the _coquetteries_ of the pair have engaged their full attention, to the neglect of the unfortunate head of the house, of whose critical position they are delightfully unconscious. [Illustration: INTERRUPTION, OR INCONVENIENCE OF A LODGING-HOUSE.] _April 1, 1789._ _Interruption, or Inconvenience of a Lodging-house._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. Republished April 1, 1824.--A stout dowager and her maid are thrown into a state of consternation easy to appreciate by the sudden entrance on the occupations of the toilette of a roystering young 'blood,' who, from the disorder of his dress and the recklessness of his attitude, has evidently returned from the tavern, something the worse for his evening's potations, and not strikingly clear in his head as to his ultimate destination. _June 20, 1789._ _A Sufferer for Decency._--The interior of a barber's shop, conducted on popular principles, as the notice on the lantern has it: '_Shave with ease and expedition for one penny_.' It will be noticed that the lathering is accomplished on a wholesale scale; a boy is waiting on the customers with a small pail of soap, and is officiating with a lathering-brush of the size of a decent hearth-broom; the barber is waiting, with his razor poised in the air, ready to let it descend with a swoop on the face of the sufferer; expedition of execution rather than an artistic delicacy of handling being the order of the day at the class of establishment delineated by the caricaturist, who in the days of universal shaving must have known the cost of sacrificing to custom. [Illustration: A SUFFERER FOR DECENCY.] 1789. _A Penny Barber._ Companion to _Sufferer for Decency_ (June 1789). Published by W. Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--A stout old gentleman, enveloped in a barber's cloth, has taken his seat in the shaving-chair; his wig is removed and his chin plenteously lathered; the aproned barber is still employed with his soap and basin. One customer is performing an ablution; and the assistant, whose hair is dressed in the wildest French style, is smoothing down a compact full-bottomed old-fashioned wig. One or two barber's blocks, a cracked glass, and a bird in a cage form the chief embellishments, to which must be added a lantern lighted by a single candle and inscribed with this information, '_The oldest shaving shop in London. Most money for second-hand wigs._' _About 1789._ _Domestic Shaving._--A family group, delicately executed in stipple in imitation of a chalk drawing. The scene is pictured with considerable care and truthfulness to nature. A stout gentleman, wigless and with lather-spread chin, is rasping away at his ample throat before a hand-glass, which a gracefully-drawn female, in a simple morning dress, is holding before the 'shaver.' A pretty child is seated in an infant's chair by his side, watching, with a pleased smile on her face, the gambols of a cat and kitten. _August 4, 1789._ _A Fresh Breeze._ Published by S. W. Fores.--A party of distinguished guests are represented as trying a cruise on board the Southampton frigate. An elevated personage, judging from his star and riband, has secured his cocked hat with a handkerchief tied under his chin; he is suffering the discomforts of sea-sickness. The helmsman has some difficulty in steering, surrounded as he is by a group of limp persons of fashion; a fat dowager, who has propped herself against the back of the steersman, is trying to subdue her qualms by applying to cordials; a more dignified lady is indulging in attitudes expressive of tragic despair. Three fair creatures have abandoned themselves to utter prostration on the opposite side. The sailors are exhibiting their disgust at the operation of washing down the decks and attending to the necessities of the sufferers; fresh supplies of buckets, for the accommodation of the indisposed, are being handed up from below by a brace of 'Beef-eaters,' whose presence, so far from adding dignity to the company, is a source of inconvenience, since they too are painfully sea-sick; and their halberts, from the incapacity of the holders, are threatening mischief to the helpless passengers around. [Illustration: THE START.] 1789 (?). _The Start._ 1789 (?). _The Betting Post._--The stout veteran on his cob, with a crutch in one hand, is intended for Colonel O'Kelly,[33] one of the most prosperous turfites of his day, and the owner of the most successful racehorse in the annals of racing. [Illustration: THE BETTING POST.] 1789 (?). _The Course._ [Illustration: THE COURSE.] 1789 (?). _The Mount._--Colonel O'Kelly, the gouty veteran who figures throughout the Racing series, is again introduced; this eminent patron of the turf is giving his parting injunctions to his jockey.[34] 1789. _A Cart Race._ Published by William Holland, Oxford Street, 1789.--This plate bears Rowlandson's signature, and is dated 1788. The print is executed in bold outline, filled in with aquatint, and coloured in capital imitation of the original drawing. The lowly cottages of some hamlet are partly distinguishable through the prodigious clouds of dust raised by the unruly eccentricities of a pleasure-party, represented as taking the air in three overladen and ramshackle carts, drawn by wretched horses barely one remove from the knacker's yard. The amusement of the moment is an extemporised race. One cart is leading triumphantly; the horse is dashing along, urged on by the bludgeon of a costermonger, who is conducting a party of beauties from St. Giles's, of the most florid and _dégagé_ type. Cart number two is considerably overmanned; the horse is down; the driver is alternately trying to whip his horse into animation or to lash his antagonists. One free-and-easy lady is falling over the head of the cart, and two more are being spilt over the tail, where they are sprawling in attitudes of considerable freedom; a dog is indignantly barking at the fallen. A third cart, which is in the rear, is loaded so heavily that it seems there is difficulty in persuading the horse to start at all. _July 20, 1789._ _The High-mettled Racer._ 1789. _Don't he Deserve it?_ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinted by I. Roberts. Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--An elderly rake, evidently an old offender, taken in the fact, is receiving the well-merited abuse of his modishly-apparelled better half; the fair companion of this compromising disclosure is covered with blushing confusion; and various witnesses, summoned by the sounds of the wife's indignant eloquence, are expressing their horror at the husband's obliquity. [Illustration: THE MOUNT.] 1789. _She don't Deserve it._ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinted by I. Roberts. Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--A pretty servant-maid, who has evidently been detected in some irregularity, is literally 'kicked out,' _en deshabille_, by a tartar of a mistress. The old master, who is evidently the cause of the damsel's disgrace, and who has lost his wig in the confusion of the disclosure, is 'starting like a guilty thing,' obviously anticipating the connubial wrath which, in due course, will descend on his reprobate head. _September 1789._ _Bay of Biscay._ Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--A ship is tossing on the stormy waters of the Bay of Biscay; a boatload of passengers, who have put off from the distant vessel, seems likely to be swamped by the waves, which are rolling mountains high. Fear and helplessness prevail on all sides; the sea is running too roughly for the oars to be of much avail; the captain and his crew have, it appears, abandoned their ship for the questionable chance of escaping in the long-boat; there are three ladies with them; one has apparently swooned, another is leaning over the side, with clasped hands, terrified at the imminence of the danger; and the third is in paroxysms which necessitate her forcible restraint. Rowlandson possessed the skill and perception to bring out every point in a desperate situation with thrilling effect, and his masterly power of depicting 'horrors,' &c., is in its way more striking, perhaps, even than his felicitous art of hitting off the salient humours of any of those ludicrous situations which his fanciful and inventive faculties suggested in exhaustless succession. 1789. _Chelsea Reach._ Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--A wondrous contrast to the horrors of the companion print, the _Bay of Biscay_; all is sunshine, jollification, and happiness. A gaily-decorated shallop, somewhat like a miniature edition of a state barge, is proceeding up the river with a pleasure-party, rowed by six gaily-clad watermen, wearing jockey caps, as was the custom of the time. A party of highly genteel ladies and gentlemen are exchanging courtesies, and pledging healths and toasts, under the shade of their parasols; an amateur musician is entertaining his friends with serenades on his flute, players on French horns are contributing to the diversion, a servant in livery is at the helm, and a large union-jack is flying. In the background is seen the tranquil river, with its distant bridges. _November 1789._ _La Place des Victoires._--If Rowlandson's visits to Paris had produced no other memorial than his inimitable picture _La Place des Victoires, Paris_, we should be satisfied with the result of his familiarity with Parisian life at the period immediately antecedent to the Revolutionary era. The study, as a whole, is one of the most memorable we can ascribe to his skilful hand and his remarkable powers of profitable observation. The Circus, built by Mansard, one of the features of Paris under the Grand Monarque, remains in all its freshness to the present day; but it has shared the fate a similar monument would have suffered had it remained in the busy precincts of the East of London. Finding itself in the heart, as it were, of the trading centre of the city, near the Bourse, and hedged and elbowed around by the warehouses and industries of the busy commercial population, it has undergone an indignity which would vex the spirit of its founder and make the shade of the little monarch, in honour of whose victories it was erected and christened, exclaim against the degeneracy which the taste of his countrymen has undergone, and he would probably deplore the concession to utilitarianism which has transmogrified the well-known spot. _La Place des Victoires_ in its present aspect is curiously disguised by hideous placards; between each of the columns appear two or more humorous advertising boards, filling up the intermediate spaces, and inscribed with recommendations to purchasers to secure their wardrobe _au bon Diable_, and notices of a similar inviting character. Rowlandson has given a further indication of the Parisian centre--at the expense of topographical accuracy, it must be admitted--by introducing the towers of Notre Dame in a proximity somewhat closer than is legitimately warranted by the actual position of the mother church. The monument, as seen in Rowlandson's veracious representation, is a splendid example of exaggerated glorification. The statue of a warrior--surely not intended to resemble the stout little monarch to whose glory it is dedicated--is trampling on an allegorical personage typifying the conquered enemies of France; while the figure of Fame, holding her trumpet ready to sound the victor's praises, is crowning the hero with a wreath. Four chained slaves, cast in bronze, indicative of Louis' triumphs, are shown at the base; these figures may now be seen in the Louvre. A courtier, or a disabled general, is pushed along in a ramshackle carriage, a sort of wheeled sedan, drawn by an old soldier, with two footmen to follow; the Frenchman is regarding the stupendous monument raised to the glories of the Grand Nation with rapturous devotion. An _abbé_, with his hands in an enormous muff, is passing, with his nose in the air; a _coquette à la mode_ is leaning on his arm and raising her hood to shoot forth glances of fascination; a handsome young officer, wearing a monstrous _queue_, is launching an admiring look towards the fair beguiler; but her attention is engaged elsewhere, and the Parthian shot falls harmless. A shoeblack in the foreground is teaching a poodle to dance; the comical animal's head is decorated with an old peruke. A pair of extensive beaux of the period are seen saluting each other with elaborate bows which would have filled the late Mr. Simpson, M.C., with despair. In the right-hand corner is shown a monk (Sterne's original _Brother Lorenzo_), shrinking away from recollections of the past. A downright English John Bull, in huge riding-boots, and a pretty English girl, his companion, in a habit, lacking the surrounding enthusiasm, are looking at the monument with the indifference of travellers who are in duty bound to take note of all the sights, but who, beyond the principle involved, find small gratification in the ordeal; an English mastiff, the property of the strangers, is curiously regarding another exotic, an Italian greyhound. In the distance is shown a female porter and her donkey, followed by a procession of friars; a French nobleman and his lady are driving by in gallant state, with a _Suisse_ and a whole string of genteel footmen clinging like flies behind their chariot. As the founder took some pains to inform the world (that is to say, Paris, which, to Frenchmen under the reign of the Grand Monarque, meant the universe), this wonderful structure, _à la gloire de Louis le Grand_, was erected by the Duc de la Feuillade, one of the idols of his age, and first satellite to the _Sun of Versailles_; Peer and Marshal of France, Governor of the Dauphin, Colonel of the Guards, &c.--in every way a most distinguished person. The statue was erected in front of this eminent courtier's Paris mansion, the _Hôtel de la Feuillade_. The principle of its erection was ingenious, ostensibly commemorating the glories of his master, the 'father of his people, and the conductor of invincible armies;' the celebrity of the patriotic founder of this monument is barely of secondary prominence, since his name and various high offices, emblazoned on the same pile, were bequeathed at the same time to the everlasting regard of posterity. The perpetual durability of fame in this case was doomed to last one century, and no more: the calculations of the Marshal did not include the coming French Revolution. In the January of 1793, the 'grand nation' became intoxicated with a saturnalia of blood, in which they avenged imposts, burdens, and slavery--evils which they had suffered in the past--by sacrificing the descendant of _le Grand Monarque_, a passive victim, on the scaffold to the vicious legacies of his predecessors. The fury which had made a martyr of the king, whose chief enjoyment had been the alleviation of the condition of his subjects, taking a retrospective turn, vented its destructive rage on every relic which recalled the servitude of generations--after the slaughter of the living, the national vengeance was wreaked on inanimate objects, and very naturally the ill-advised monument of the Place des Victoires came in for an early share of attention; and the memorial bequeathed to the everlasting admiration of posterity was scattered to the winds in a manner which effectually defeated the intentions of the testator; the only wonder being how the bronze figures escaped the fate of the furnace, and were spared being converted into artillery. Under the circumstances, of the complete disappearance of this triumph of servile adulation, it is interesting to recall, in a remote degree, the incidents which attended its foundation. In the letters of Madame de Sévigné we trace a picture indicative of the events; first we are introduced to the zeal displayed by the Duc de la Feuillade, that inveterate and unequalled courtier, and his passion for raising monuments to the glorification of his master and himself. We follow the Marshal's first intentions, and are told how they were modified; we notice the erection of the pedestrian statue, with its glaring anomalies, sent to adorn the gardens of Versailles; and then we are instructed how the sculptor, Van den Bogaert--who, in compliment to his patrons, had changed his name to _de Desjardins_--was entrusted with the execution of the extraordinary conception which was to shed a lustre on the _Place des Victoires_ to perpetuity. _Lettre DCC. de Madame de Sévigné au Comte de Bussy, à Paris, ce 20 Juillet, 1679._--'.... Il vous dira les nouvelles et les préparatifs du mariage du Roi d'Espagne, et du choix du Prince et de la Princesse d'Harcourt pour la conduite de la reine d'Espagne à son époux, et la belle charge que le roi a donnée à M. de Marsillac, sans préjudice de la première; et du démêlé du Cardinal de Bouillon avec M. de Montausier, et comme M. de La Feuillade, courtisan passant tous les courtisans passés, a fait venir un bloc de marbre qui tenoit toute la rue Saint Honoré: et comme les soldats qui le conduisoient ne vouloient point faire place au carosse de M. le Prince qui étoit dedans, il y eut un combat entre les soldats et les valets de pied: le peuple s'en mêla, le marbre se rangea, et le prince passa. Ce prélat vous pourra conter encore que ce marbre est chez M. de La Feuillade, qui fait ressusciter Phidias ou Praxitèle pour tailler la figure du roi à cheval dans ce marbre, et comme cette statue lui coûtera plus de trente mille écus.'[35] In a footnote, by the editor, we are further enlightened on the use to which this marble was finally applied, by order of the Duke de la Feuillade:-- 'La Feuillade changea d'avis et fit sortir du bloc de marbre en question une statue pédestre qui prêtoit à la critique, par le mélange bizarre du costume romain recouvert du manteau royal françois. Cette statue du ciseau de Desjardins (autrement Van den Bogaert) a été placée à l'Orangerie de Versailles.' The next piece of information, also given in the editor's footnote, is more to the point:-- 'C'est le même artiste qui, six ans plus tard, a exécuté le monument de la Place des Victoires, aussi magnifique qu'impolitique, et renversé en 1793 au milieu des fureurs de l'anarchie. Il ne reste de ce monument que les quatre figures, en bronze, d'esclaves enchaînés qui désignoient les nations dont la France a triomphé dans le XVII^e siècle. Ces figures sont dans la Collection de France.--G. D. S. G.' A fair-sized view of the Circus, Place des Victoires, and of the monument, taken from the Hotel de la Feuillade, which would seem to have occupied a frontage facing the semicircle, was published about 1686, engraved by N. Guerard. The title runs thus:-- 'Veue de la Place des Victoires où M. le Mareschal Duc de la Feuillade a dressé un monument public à la gloire de Louis le Grand, de la statue de ce Monarque couronné par la Victoire, accompagnée de Trophées, de Médailles, de bas-reliefs, et d'inscriptions, sur les actions glorieuses de sa vie et de son règne. Le 28 Mars, 1686.' Numerous highflown praises of the King were engraved on the base of this vainglorious monument, as well as a list of the various engagements fought in the reign of Louis the Magnificent. The principal inscription will give a fair impression of the nature of these panegyrics:--[36] '_A Louis le Grand, le père et le conducteur des armées toujours heureux._--Apres avoir vaincu ses Ennemis, Protegé ses alliez. Adjousté de tres puissants peuples à son Empire, Assuré les Frontières par des places imprenables, joint l'Ocean à la Méditerranée. Chassé les pirates de toutes les mers, Reformé les Loix, Destruit l'hérésie, porté par le bruit de son nom les nations les plus Barbares à le venir révérer des extremitez de la terre. Et reglé parfaitement toutes choses au dedans et au dehors par la grandeur de son courage et de son génie. 'Francois Vicomte Daubusson, Duc de la Feuillade, Pair et Mareschal de France, Gouverneur du Dauphine, et Colonel des Gardes Françoises, 'Pour perpetuelle memoire' 'A la postérité.' _November 29, 1789._ _Mercury and his Advocates Defeated, or Vegetable Intrenchment._--This print introduces a collision between two systems of medical treatment. The scene is Swainson's depôt for _Velno's Vegetable Syrup_, Frith Street, Soho. _List of Cures, in 1788_, 5,000; _in 1789_, 10,000. Swainson has entrenched himself in the centre of a barricade, formed of his specifics, a bottle of which he is exhibiting, with an air of triumph, to the posse of old practitioners, who, armed with dissecting-knives, mortars, mercury, prescriptions, and mineral pills, are preparing for a furious onslaught upon the innovator, whose introduction of _Velno's Syrup_ has deprived them of the support of their profitable clients. [Illustration: A DULL HUSBAND.] 1789. _A Dull Husband._--An interior scene, introducing us to a drawing-room of more refined character than Rowlandson generally selects for representation. The owners evidently occupy a wealthy position in life. The lady has musical tastes, it appears; in the background is a harpsicord, the fair performer is playing the harp, and a guitar is lying at her feet. The husband has no soul for sweet sounds, or the soothing harmonies which his elegant companion has produced have lulled him into forgetfulness; however it may happen, the gentleman is very evidently, and unpoetically, fast asleep. FOOTNOTES: [30] The words taken exception to were: 'I say the Prince of Wales has no more right to assume the government without the consent of the Parliament, who represent the people, than any other person,' &c. [31] It must be remembered that in 1788 the public were flocking to the performances of a famous stone-eater. [32] The caricaturist is said to be the hero of the sparring roysterer in his unflattering delineation of _A Brace of Blackguards_, introducing George Moreland the painter and himself under a situation little complimentary to the softening influences of the fine arts. The plate is given in this work under the date _May 30, 1812_, when it was re-issued by the artist, but the original etching properly belongs to a much earlier period, and was probably executed about a quarter of a century anterior. [33] 'Colonel Dennis O'Kelly, the celebrated owner of _Eclipse_ (this racehorse won everything he ran for), amassed an immense fortune by gambling and the turf, and purchased the estate of Canons, near Edgware, which was formerly possessed by the Duke of Chandos, and is still remembered as the site of the most magnificent mansion and establishment of modern times. The Colonel's training stables and paddocks, at another estate near Epsom, were supposed to be the best-appointed in England.'--_Hone's 'Table Book.'_ [34] A clever drawing, which has never, apparently, been engraved, _Colonel O'Kelly Enjoying a Private Trial previous to his Making a Match_, belonging to John West, Esq., is noticed in the Appendix. [35] Sévigné, vol. vi. pp. 98-157. [36] Place des Victoires. A circular open space, surrounded by houses, forming together one design, built by Mansard, 1686. Portions of the original statue of Louis XIV., raised by the Duc de la Feuillade, in the middle, which was destroyed during the Revolution, are now in the Louvre: it was replaced by a statue of General Desaix, which, in its turn, was removed for the present one of Louis XIV. in the costume of a Roman emperor, by Bosio. 1790. [Illustration: TYTHE PIG.] _January 1, 1790._ _Tythe Pig._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--Rowlandson has taken a vexatious institution, as enforced in his day, and turned it to satiric account. A vicar, who we presume is suffering for the sin of gluttony--a failing to which at one time, if tradition is in any degree reliable, the sons of most churches were more than slightly prone--since he is invalided by an attack of gout, is seated in the official reception-room of his residence, within view of his cure, in state, as becomes a dignitary of the Establishment, to receive the tithes of his parish. His clerk is planted by his side, auditing _An Estimate of the Tythes of this Parish_. This functionary is examining, with somewhat minute scrupulousness, a fat pig which is borne in for approval by a comely maiden. The contributor of the said pig, a country clown, who is evidently but half resigned to part with his belongings, is standing in the doorway scratching his shock head, wearing a face which expresses anything but approval of the surrender of his porker. _No date: about 1790._ _A Roadside Inn._--Two travellers are stopping to take refreshment at a pretty rustic hostel. A wain, drawn by a yoke of horses, is shown passing up the road. [Illustration: A ROADSIDE INN.] _January 1, 1790._ _A Butcher._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 50 Poland Street.--In point of refinement this print has nothing to recommend it; a more barbarous rendering of a subject, which has in itself little of the picturesque, cannot be well imagined. The subject is, however, treated with so much force and originality, that we considered it worthy to be inserted in our selection, as a representative example of Rowlandson's abilities in the savage walk--a branch to which he brought especial qualifications. And as it is the object of this work to give our readers a fair estimate of the abilities of an artist whose pictures reflect, in a great measure, the dispositions and tastes of his times, we have introduced more than one subject which may, on its individual merits or defects, at first strike the critic as at least coarse, if not altogether free from objectionable associations. [Illustration: A BUTCHER.] _January 10, 1790._ _Frog Hunting._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 50 Poland Street.--Three Frenchman of quality, adorned in the most modish taste, with their frills, powdered curls, pigtails, ear-rings, ruffles, and dress swords, are plunging knee deep in a pond of water, hunting, with the enthusiasm of true epicures, a party of frightened frogs. A fashionably clad Frenchwoman is standing on the bank, holding a parasol in one hand, and a row of frogs, the spoils of the chase, strung on a skewer, in the other. _February 20, 1790._ _Toxophilites_ (large plate). Published by E. Harding, 132 Fleet Street. _February 20, 1790._ _Repeal of the Test Act._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. [Illustration: REPEAL OF THE TEST ACT.] Bell and the Dragon's chaplains were More moderate than those by far; For they, poor knaves, were glad to cheat, To get their wives and children meat. But these will not be fobb'd off so; They must have wealth and power too. An exaggerated view from a Conservative point of observation, of the results which were to be anticipated if the repeal of the Test Act was allowed to be carried. This caricature was put forth at the time Doctors Priestley and Price--those _revolution sinners_, as their opponents styled them--were lecturing and spreading broadcast principles of religious equality, reforms, which, as the Ministers industriously circulated, if carried into effect, would prove subversive of everything. A portly Bishop, with his _Refutation of Dr. Price_ by his side, is left to the tender mercies of the Reformers--'And when they had smote the shepherd, the sheep were scattered.' The work of revision is carried on by main force, two of the 'new lights,' aided by stout cudgels, are converting the overgrown Shepherd: 'Make room for the Apostle of Liberty;' and 'God assisting us, nothing is to be feared.' Doctor Priestley is superintending the demolition of the venerated edifice: 'Make haste to pull down that, and we'll build a new one in its place.' Two of the Reformers are displaying their 'brotherly love' by fighting for the possession of the Chancellor's purse and mace. The _Thirty-nine Articles_ are sent to feed a bonfire. A leader of the movement, inspired by 'love of our country,' has climbed up where the insignia of church and state are seen swinging upon a sign-post. He is provided with a flaming _Torch of Liberty_, with which he is threatening their destruction. Fox is shown as the arch-director of this innovating agitation:--'day next, a charity sermon by the Rev. Charles Fox.' The Whig chief is drawn at a window, armed with a speaking-trumpet, and advertising '_Places under Government to be disposed of. N.B. Several Faro and E. O. Tables in good condition._' Dissenting preachers are hurrying up, furnished with well-filled money-bags, to secure the political influence which Fox is openly holding out for purchase, without any attempt at disguise. 1790. _Dressing for a Masquerade._ (Cyprians.) 1790. _Dressing for a Masquerade._ (Ladies.) 1790. _A French Family._ T. Rowlandson, del. S. Alken, fecit. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--One of the two subjects highly commended by H. Angelo in his 'Reminiscences.' The companion, _An Italian Family_, will be given under the head of caricatures published in 1792. Both impressions are scarce, and very seldom met with. These prints are supposed to represent the domestic and interior lives of foreign artists, as studied from observations founded, it is presumed, on the everyday habits of the aliens domiciled in England. Monsieur and his family are probably professional dancers, and the picture introduces us to their more intimate hours of practising; at all events, we find nearly the entire generation giving up their energies--somewhat to the neglect of the proprieties, it is true--to the practice of the one accomplishment in which the politest of nations was supposed to enjoy pre-eminence. The grandfather, in a cotton nightcap, is supplying the music from his fiddle, but the contagion of motion is affecting his aged limbs, and he is skipping about with the animation of old Vestris; by his side is the youngest child, who, still in her night-clothes, is practising the first positions. It will be noticed that, in spite of somewhat squalid surroundings, the whole generation excel in personal finery: a profusion of hair, dressed in the extreme of fashion, ruffles, furbelows, frills, bows, ear-rings, and elegant slippers, are displayed by the various members. The son and daughter are gracefully executing a _pas de deux_. The person of Madame is charmingly rendered; an elaborately constructed tower of fair hair, and a nodding plume of feathers, add height and distinction to her figure, to which the designer has lent a grace and ease of motion peculiarly French. Monsieur is truly magnificent in the item of wig; his pink satin coat is hung on the top of the turn-up bedstead, and he is disporting himself in a sleeved vest; the lower limbs of the gentleman give room for conjecture. Whether he has taken the liberty of appearing in _sans-culotte_ negligence out of respect to the principles of the Revolution, then in its fury, or whether his nether garments and stockings have been pledged to satisfy the necessities of the hour, is not clear. Perhaps the artist drew the Frenchman in this guise as a concession to English prejudices at the period when it was a pretty universally received theory that his compatriots lived on frogs exclusively, and had thrown away their _culottes_ for good; the last supposition being to a large degree warranted by the maniacal excesses of the Jacobin, Poissarde, and other sections in Paris. In the left-hand corner of the picture is a cleverly designed group, somewhat independent of the main action. A French child, dressed in the burlesque of miniature manhood, as then adopted by our tasteful neighbours, is playing a pipe and tambourine and training a pair of performing poodles to dance a minuet on their hind legs. A lean cat is vainly trying to find something to satisfy her hunger in the cupboard. The only decent article of furniture in the chamber--which is dirty, patched, and poor--is a concession to vanity in the form of a large mirror. _March, 1790._ _A Kick-up at a Hazard Table._ Published by Wm. Holland, Oxford Street.--A large plate, executed in bold outline with a little mezzo work, introduced in the darker parts. The _Kick-up_ is of a serious character; the gamblers who lately occupied the front of the table are upset in the confusion, and others are endeavouring to get out of the way of the danger. A stout old buck in the King's uniform--a loser, it would seem, from his empty pocket-book--has drawn his pistol on a player opposite, who has presumably won the irate gentleman's gold, since he is covering the pile with one hand, and with the other is aiming, in his turn, a pistol full at his adversary's person. Great excitement prevails around; one man is dashing a chair at the officer's outstretched firearm, and a brother officer is striking with a bottle and a candlestick at the other weapon; bludgeons are flourished, and swords are drawn by some of the gamblers, while others are endeavouring to stand clear before the bullets begin to fly. A party of gentlemen assembled on the evening of a Court Drawing-room at the Royal Chocolate-house in St. James's Street, where disputes at hazard produced a quarrel, which became general throughout the room. Three gentlemen were mortally wounded, and the affray was at length concluded by the interposition of the Royal Guards, who were compelled to knock the parties down with the butt ends of their muskets indiscriminately, as entreaties and commands were of no avail. A footman of Colonel Cunningham's, greatly attached to his master, rushed through the swords, seized, and literally carried him out by force without injury. _May 29, 1790._ _Who kills first for a Crown._ In two compartments.--The objects of the chase being the respective crowns of two kingdoms, both of which were disturbed at the date of this publication, by the ambitious views of the advanced parties; headed by the Heir-Apparent in the one case, and the Duke of Orleans in the other. _The Crown of England_ is threatened in the upper compartment, and the situation is typified as a Stag Hunt in the Park at Windsor. The Prince of Wales, on horseback, is performing the part of huntsman, and his followers are travestied as the Prince's pack of hounds--a favourite figure with the pictorial satirists. Sheridan is the leading dog; the faces of Mrs. Fitzherbert, Burke, a Bishop, and others, are distinguishable among the pack, which is harassing the royal quarry. _The Crown of France_ is endangered in a similar fashion. It will be remembered that the stability of the government of Louis the Sixteenth received its first shock from the Duke of Orleans, who, imitating the factious conduct of the Prince of Wales at home, was in alliance with the enemies of the throne; in the case of the Duke, with the Revolutionary parties of France. The royal French Stag is run down at Versailles. The Duke of Orleans, first Prince of the blood, is acting as whipper-in. He is dressed in a fantastic habit of _le sport_, a compromise between a French postilion and a huntsman; he is winding on his pack with _une corne de chasse_. The individuals constituting the aristocratic French pack are described below the print, the names giving some indication of the members of that Palais Royale clique of intriguers which wrought so much evil to the reigning branch. Certain members of the Orleans pack were destined to become notorious on the theatre of events which were then impending over France. 1. _Madame La C'tesse de Buffon._ 2. _Madme. La C'tesse de Blot._ 3. _Le Cte. de Touche._ 4. _Le Mqis. de Sillery._ 5. _Le Cte. de Vauban._ 6. _Le Bn. de Talleyrand_ (who, in the hunt, has seized the royal stag with his teeth). 7. _M. de Simon._ 1790. _Philip Quarrel, the English Hermit, and Beau Fidelle, the mischievous She-Monkey, famous for her skill on the viol de gamba._--Philip Thicknesse, leaving his hermitage in the background (see _Public Characters_, 1806), is journeying along one mile from Bath; the ex-Governor of Languard Fort is in regimentals, but instead of a hat the artist has drawn a boar's head, the present of Lord Jersey, above that of the _Hermit_. More particular reference to this boar's head is made in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1761, pp. 34, 79. Across Philip's back is slung his wooden gun;[37] under his left arm are held his writings, which gained him but equivocal fame; a bare axe, marked '_Gratitude_,' is in his right hand; the Duke of _Marlboro's pistols_ are in his belt; he has a _Subscription Scheme, Gunpowder_, as a cartouche-box, and his foot is resting on the _Vagrant Act_. Miss Ford (Mrs. Thicknesse), as _Beau Fidelle_, is following _Quarrel's_ wanderings; her _viol de gamba_ is strapped across her back. (_Handbill._) STRAYED FROM KENSINGTON GORE A VICIOUS OLD DOG; A mongrel, with a large mark on the left side of his head, resembling a tarnished cockade; on his collar is marked _P. T._, but answers to the name of GALLSTONE; has got a sore tail, occasioned by a _copper platter_, cruelly tied to it some time since--the fright arising from which caused him to run away from London. He has a great aversion to the smell of gunpowder; is extremely mischievous, and very apt to snap and bite those who let him into their houses; but, though very noisy, is easily quieted by the slightest threat. He has been heard of at Farthingoe, in Northamptonshire, where he attempted to bite the churchwardens; but being whipped from thence, has since been discovered lurking near the Royal Hotel, at Dover, and is supposed to be now hid among the rocks on the Kentish coast. Whoever will trace him and give intelligence by the post to J. G. (James Gillray), at No. 18 Old Bond Street, London, so that he may be found and muzzled, will be gratefully thanked! THE MONSTER. B. Argensteen takes the earliest opportunity of informing the nobility and the public of the _Monster's_ reappearance in town on Friday last, 4th. He is dressed in a scarlet coat, wears a prodigious cockade, and bears in every respect a striking likeness to that much-respected character, PHILIP THICKNESSE, Esq. He has already frightened a number of women and children, made several desperate attempts upon different noblemen, and has attempted to cut up his own children. Since his last arrival in London he has assumed the name of _Lieut.-Gov. Gallstone_; and it is strongly suspected that his present journey to town is in order to devour all editors of newspapers, engravers, and publishers of satiric prints, and every other person who has dared to arraign his conduct. The public are cautioned to be on their guard. _N.B._--_The reward for his apprehension still remains in full force._ [Illustration: SALOON AT THE PAVILION, BRIGHTON.] 1790. _An Excursion to Brighthelmstone, made in the year 1789, by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson. Dedicated (by permission) to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. Embellished with eight engravings in aquatinta, from views taken on the road to and at that place._ London: Printed for C. G. J. and I. Robinson, Paternoster Row. Oblong folio. June 1, 1790. _Introduction._--'The following descriptive account of an excursion to Brighthelmstone is intended to give those who have not visited that delightfully situated town and its environs an idea of the pleasures with which a lively and feeling mind will be impressed on viewing those scenes which the Authors have endeavoured to illustrate.... Of the roads which lead to Brighthelmstone, that immediately from London being most frequented, the Authors have endeavoured to familiarise it to the traveller by pencil and pen. [Illustration: WAITING FOR DINNER.] 'The various scenes which are introduced are slightly represented, and intended merely to impress the mind with the general effects of nature. It is, in short, a conversation narrative, illustrated occasionally with sketches of scenes and incidents which seemed most worthy of notice.' The plates were all drawn and etched by Rowlandson, and aquatinted by Alken. _Sutton._ ('The Cock.') _Reigate._ ('The White Hart' posting house.) _Crawley._ (Sale of a horse by auction outside the 'George Inn.') _Cuckfield._ (Market Day--a recruiting party, &c.) _Saloon at the Marine Pavilion._ 'The Marine Pavilion of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, on the west side of the Steine, is a striking object, and admirably calculated for the summer residence of a royal personage.... This Pavilion, correctly designed and elegantly executed, was begun and completed in five months. The furniture is adapted with great taste to the style of the building. The Grand Saloon is beautifully decorated with paintings by _Rebecca_, executed in his best manner. The _tout ensemble_ of the building is, in short, perfect harmony. The whole was executed by Mr. Holland, under the immediate inspection and direction of Mr. Weltjé, the Prince's German cook, who leased the property to his royal master.' [Illustration: AT DINNER.] _Bathing Machines._ _The Steine_ (and promenaders). _Race Ground._ The Course, the Stand, &c., with a race being run. _June 1, 1790._ _Saloon at the Pavilion, Brighton._ Aquatinted by T. Alken. Published by Messrs. Robinson.--One of a series of drawings made from the Regent's fantastic seaside residence, and published in aquatint. See _An Excursion to Brighthelmstone, made in the year 1789, by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson_. (1790.) [Illustration: AFTER DINNER.] 1790 (?). _Waiting for Dinner._ 1790 (?). _At Dinner._ 1790 (?). _After Dinner._ 1790 (?). _Preparing for Supper._ 1790 (?). _Fox-hunters Relaxing._ _About 1790._ _Evening._--A small etching. A stout sportsman, lolling on his pony, and followed by a miscellaneous tribe of dogs, has evidently been out shooting, and on his homeward way he has fallen in with an encampment of gipsies, who have pitched their tent beside a wood; three brawny nymphs are sitting about in easy attitudes, and a fourth, leaning on the stranger's horse, is beguiling the Nimrod with her wiles; it seems probable, from the foolish expression thrown into the rider's face, that he is likely to fall an easy victim into mischievous hands. _August 6, 1790._ _Cattle at the River._ _The Horse Race._ _A View in Cornwall._ _The River; towing barges, &c._ _Rustic Refreshment._ _Winter Pastime: Skating on a Frozen River._ [Illustration: PREPARING FOR SUPPER.] _September 1790._ _A Dressing Room at Brighton._ Published by I. Brown, 6 Crown Street, Soho.--As the title expresses, this plate represents the interior of a chamber at the fashionable marine resort. Three gentlemen are seated in their combing-chairs; their hair is being curled and powdered by three hair-dressers. _October 20, 1790._ _Four o'clock in Town._ Designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson. Published by J. Jones.--This plate, which is entirely due to Rowlandson's hand, is etched in outline, and filled in with aquatint, in imitation of a faint drawing in Indian ink. A young and well-favoured military buck has returned to his house at the advanced and disreputable hour of four o'clock in the morning, as indicated in the title; he has evidently been 'making a night of it,' and is considerably the worse for his potations. His young and pretty wife, who is in bed, is thrown into a mixed condition between consternation, fear, and resentment at the condition of her gallant spouse; the husband is propped up in an armchair, and left to the care of two comely housemaids, who are making efforts to assist this hopeless rake to divest himself of his clothes--an essential preliminary towards going to bed which he is signally unable to perform for himself. He is perfectly helpless in the hands of these wenches, and is contemplating with an imbecile air an empty purse, the result of his evening's recreations. In spite of the somewhat suggestive nature of this subject, all the figures are graceful and pleasingly expressed, and the faces are delicate and attractive. [Illustration: FOX-HUNTERS RELAXING.] _October 20, 1790._ _Four o'clock in the Country._ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The episode presented in this picture is the complete reverse of that shown in the companion plate, _Four o'clock in Town_. While the London rake is being assisted to his late bed the country Nimrod is rising with the dawn. The enthusiast for the chase has tumbled out of his early couch; his clothes are hastily thrown on in the partial light of daybreak, and he is, while still half-asleep, making terrific exertions to draw on his boots. His wife, who has not had time to commence her toilette, and who, evidently, will resume her interrupted repose on the departure of the hunting party, is standing, exactly as she has left her bed, with a bottle of cordial and a glass, pouring out a nip of comfort to keep out the cold, for the benefit of her sporting spouse. The chamber is alive with motion, and it is evidently the accustomed method of departure; pairs of dogs are rushing about, huntsmen and grooms are carrying saddles on their heads and making preparations for the start. The remains of last night's relaxations, in the shape of pipes and mugs of ale, are still uncleared; and the articles scattered around, guns, saddles, whips, hunting-horns, and fox-skins, attest the pronounced sporting tastes of the country squire. A pretty child is tranquilly sleeping, in its cradle, undisturbed by the bustle of the hunter's early start. 1790. _John Nichols._ With anger foaming and of vengeance full, Why belloweth John Nichols like a bull? --John Nichols is seated at a rustic table; the _Gentleman's Magazine_ is at his feet; his literary productions--_rebus_, _conundrum_, _riddle_, _charade_, &c.--are scattered about. In the background is shown an allegory of the Temple of Fame, at the summit of Mount Parnassus, towards which the author is vainly stumping on stilts, propped up on books, with his _Essay on Old Maids_ under his arm, as the certificate which is to serve as his passport to immortality; his exertions are parodied by a monkey at his side, who has ascended to the top of a ladder and can get no higher. 1790. _A Series of Miniature Groups and Scenes._ Published by M. L., Brighthelmstone; and H. Brookes, Coventry Street, London. 1790. _A Christening._ 1790. _The Duenna and Little Isaac._ Engraved by W. P. Carey. FOOTNOTE: [37] Wooden Gun. See _Public Characters_, 1806, p. 99. 1791 _January 13, 1791._ _The Prospect before us. No. 1. Humanely inscribed to all those Professors of Music and Dancing whom the cap may fit._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly.--The possible future condition of the foreign artists located within our shores, the performers at the Italian Opera, seems to have provoked three large cartoons from Rowlandson's graver at the beginning of 1791. The straits to which these fashionable exotics, it was suggested, might be reduced by the decaying state of the theatre in which they had been playing are more particularly dwelt on in this and a later caricature. It appears it was found necessary to close their house for restorations, which, if the state of things hinted in _Chaos is Come Again_ (February 4, 1791), may be considered in any way prophetic, was resolved on none too soon. _The Prospect before us_ evidently offers the choice of two conditions. The first seems to have been an appeal to the charitable, pending the construction of a new Opera House; the second, which was accepted, being the conversion of the Pantheon into a theatre; a substitute which in the end accidentally proved equally deplorable. We first find the professors of music, singing, and dancing thrown on the vicarious exercise of their talents as a wandering troupe round the town. The model of the new house is borne as a plea to the benevolent, much on the principle of the disabled sailors who, tramping the streets, singing and begging, carried the model of their ship, to tempt the liberality of the almsgiving public. A sweeper-lad is dropping a copper into the laced hat of one of the French dancers, whose figure is probably intended for that of Didelot, one of the highest paid and most popular performers in his walk on our stage. A butcher, with evident sympathies for imported art, is compassionately dropping a bullock's heart into the hat of an elderly artist, whose figure may possibly be intended for that of old Vestris. The tattered and reduced regiment of foreign performers are evidently not prospering on their street perambulating campaign, since, judging from the surroundings, they are reduced to solicit the patronage of the denizens of the most squalid neighbourhoods. Their graces are displayed outside the premises of one _Michael Nincompoop_, who, according to his notice-board, is engaged in a somewhat miscellaneous line of trading, '_purveying, brickmaking, breeches, brandy-balls, and all other kinds of sweetmeats_.' The circumstances of the Italian Opera are more distinctly alluded to in a poster stuck on the wall, announcing: '_A new Fantoccini this evening, called "Humbugallo in the Dumps." A dance called "The Battle of the Brickbats;" to conclude with a grand crush by all the performers._' [Illustration: THE PROSPECT BEFORE US. NO. 1.] [Illustration: THE PROSPECT BEFORE US. NO. 2.] _January 13, 1791._ _The Prospect before us. No. 2. Respectfully dedicated to those Singers, Dancers, and Musical Professors who are fortunately engaged with the Proprietor of the King's Theatre, at the Pantheon._ Published by S. W. Fores.--Dismissing the less fortunate artists whose services were not retained for the new enterprise, we return to the subject of the opening of the Pantheon. In anticipation of the success of this new Opera House, Rowlandson issued a large cartoon representing a _coup d'oeil_ of the interior of the theatre, as seen from the stage during the performance of a ballet. The Royal box, in the centre, is tenanted by the King and Queen, and the boxes around are occupied by the nobility and leaders of fashion. On the stage are Didelot and Madame Theodore, dancing in the ballet of _Amphion and Thalia_. O'Reilly, in the orchestra, is presiding over the band. The dancers, at this period, were the highest paid performers in the company; with the leading artistes of the ballet were engaged the vocalists Mara, Pacchierotti, Lazzarini, &c., for the performance of operas. The _Gentleman's Magazine_ thus notices the privileged rehearsal which preceded the regular season:-- 'Thursday, February 10, 1791.--This evening the Opera at the Pantheon was opened to the subscribers, and a very elegant audience attended at the rehearsal of the performance of _Armida_. Though none of the Royal Family were present, a crowd of fashionable visitors exhibited patronage adequate to the support of any undertaking.' _European Magazine_:--'February 17, 1791.--The new Opera House in the Pantheon was opened with _Armida_, in which Pacchierotti, Mara, Lazzarini, &c., distinguished themselves. Afterwards the ballet of _Amphion and Thalia_ was performed, with applause, by Didelot, Theodore, &c.' Another paragraph from the _Gentleman's Magazine_ briefly relates the end of this prosperous undertaking a year later:-- 'Saturday, January 14, 1792.--This morning, between one and two o'clock, the painter's room in one of the new buildings which had been added to the Pantheon, to enlarge it sufficiently for the performance of operas, was discovered to be on fire. Before any engines were brought to the spot the fire had got to such a height that all attempts to save the building were in vain. The fire kept burning with great fury for about ten hours, by which time, the roof and part of the walls having fallen in, it was so much subdued that all fears for the safety of the surrounding houses were quieted. 'The performers, next to the insurance offices, will be the greatest sufferers, for they have put themselves, as usual, to great expense in preparing for the season; many of them were obliged to do this upon credit; but their salaries ending with the existence of the house, and before any of them had their benefit nights, they have now no means of extricating themselves from their difficulties.' We learn from the _Memoirs of Henry Angelo_ that the author's father was Master of the Ceremonies when the building was first opened for balls, &c. We quote a paragraph which well describes the final calamity:-- 'The Pantheon was certainly the most elegant and beautiful structure that had been erected in the British metropolis. Shortly after the conflagration of the Opera House in the Haymarket, in the year 1789, the proprietors of the Pantheon, which had been deserted of late for Madame Corneilly's, in Soho, were all put into high spirits, as proposals were made to construct a theatre in the grand saloon there, and to transfer the performance of the Italian ballet and opera to its stage. No theatre ever, perhaps, opened with greater _éclat_. The pit, boxes, and gallery were spacious, and magnificently fitted for the reception of an audience. The stage was of vast extent, and no expense was spared to render the scenic and the wardrobe department splendid and grand in proportion to the spectacles announced. Their Majesties frequently visited this new theatre, and everything was proceeding with advantage to all concerned, when within a few months, one unfortunate night, this noble monument of the genius of Wyatt was consumed by the same destructive element, and that great architect beheld on the morrow, with indescribable grief, the entire ruin of that fond monument of his youthful genius. The rising architects, too, were deprived of the most beautiful model that modern art had yet produced for their study.' _February 4, 1791._ _Chaos is Come Again. Qui capit inven., ille habet fec._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften bricks and bend the knotted oak. The end of the Italian Opera performances, when the surveyors of Drury Lane Theatre had come to the conclusion that the old building required to be pulled down, is pictorially set forth by the artist in one scene of general collapse and ruin. This print, for some undiscovered reason, is sometimes met without the lettering; it was probably issued at the beginning of 1791 in that condition, and then published later with a date, which rather interferes with its purpose or intention, if it had not appeared earlier, since the prospects of the Opera company were reassured by the conversion of Wyatt's famous Pantheon into a theatre for their future use. [Illustration: CHAOS IS COME AGAIN.] We learn from a later paragraph (_Gentleman's Magazine_, September 1791) that the house in the Haymarket was completed and opened for performances in the autumn of the year--a rival speculation to the successful season which inaugurated the adaptation of the magnificent and unfortunate monument in Oxford Street as a theatre. 'Thursday, September 22, 1791.--The Drury Lane company performed in the Opera House in the Haymarket. There was much clamour and some disturbance at first, owing to some inconveniences attending the alterations in the house, and chiefly the entrances, which, being soon got over, a scene was introduced of Parnassus, which was painted and contrived in a very grand style; and Messrs. Dignum and Sedgwick sung the air. The _Haunted Tower_ then began; and the audience, restored to good humour, honoured the performance with the loudest plaudits.' _January 31, 1791._ Sheets of picturesque etchings:--_A Four-in-Hand._ _The Village Dance._ _The Woodman Returning._ _River Scene._ _A Water Mill._ _Shipping, &c._ _January 31, 1791._ _Huntsmen Visiting the Kennels._ _The Haymaker's Return._ _Deer in a Park._ _Cattle._ _Shepherds._ _Horses in a Paddock._ _Cattle Watering at a Pond._ _A Piggery._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. 1791. _Traffic_ (old Jew clothesmen). Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _January 30, 1791._ _Toxophilites._ (See 1794.) Published by E. Harding. _March 1, 1791._ _The Attack._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--A gentleman, who is driving four horses harnessed to a sort of curricle, with an elegant and fashionably-dressed female by his side, is thrown into consternation by the sudden apparition of a mounted knight of the road, who, seated on a high-mettled steed, is presenting a pistol full at the driver. The traveller's servant, dressed in his livery, and mounted on a cob, is brought up suddenly by the stopping of his master's vehicle; his face indicates the greatest astonishment at the demeanour of the highwayman and alarm at the unforeseen danger to which his patron is exposed; it does not, however, occur to him to render any assistance. _March 22, 1791._ _Bardolph Badger'd, or the Portland Hunt._--Sheridan, with _G. P._ on his collar, is, in this instance, represented as the hunted cur; he has certain plans tied to his tail, and he is tearing off from the Duke of Portland's mansion (the great rallying-place among the leaders of the Whig party); 'Sherry' is escaping towards Carlton House, to take refuge with his new master; Fox is clapping his hands to accelerate _Bardolph's_ speed; the Duke of Portland is throwing bundles of papers after the badgered fugitive; Burke is threatening him with his _shelairy_; Lord Holland is aiming a stick at him, and a crowd of other political celebrities belonging to the party are assisting to drive out the frightened cur from their midst. In spite of his brilliant abilities Sheridan did not reflect much credit on the party with which he had been allowed to ally himself. The Prince of Wales, the good faith of whose allegiance was no less equivocal, finally turned his back on his friends, while retaining the services of the _Bardolph_ of the picture. 'Sherry's' party had good cause to regard him with distrust. _April 12, 1791._ _European Powers. An Imperial Stride._ Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.--Some doubt exists as to the authorship of this and the following political satires; there are several similar plates by Kingsbury, who was working for W. Holland at this date, but, from certain points in their execution, we are inclined to include one or two of these prints with the series by Rowlandson. The Empress Catherine, in her 'Imperial Stride,' has one foot resting on Russia, and the other touching the crescent above the dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople. The various sovereigns of Europe are regarding this acrobatic performance with wonderment. Stanislaus the Second is reflecting on the 'length to which power may be carried;' Pope Pius the Sixth is declaring that 'he shall never forget it;' Charles the Fourth of Spain is threatening that he will 'despoil the spoiler!' Louis the Sixteenth 'never saw anything like it!' George the Third is saying, 'What, what, what a prodigious expansion!' the Emperor Leopold the Second, is remarking that it is a 'wonderful elevation!' and the Sultan, Selim the Third, is expressing his belief that 'all Turkey would not satisfy the ambition of the Empress.' _April 25, 1791._ _The Grand Battle between the famous English Cock and Russian Hen._--As we remarked, in treating of the previous print, some doubt may exist as to the authorship of these plates; we have included a reduction of this engraving among our illustrations, so that our readers may be enabled to form their own impressions. These cartoons are not without interest, as they offer a fair view of the relative positions of European sovereigns at the period of their publication. [Illustration: THE GRAND BATTLE BETWEEN THE FAMOUS ENGLISH COCK AND RUSSIAN HEN.] King George the Third and the Empress Catherine of Russia are matched against one another in the great European cockpit for a decisive struggle--such a conflict as has been imminent under nearly similar conditions at various emergencies since 1791. The Great Powers are assembled to witness the encounter, and are backing their respective champions. The Empress, who is game to the last, is declaring, 'I have vanquished many a finer bird than you!' King George is retorting, 'Boo, boo; bluster, bluster! won't leave you a feather!' Queen Charlotte has a pile of money before her, which she is guarding from straggling fingers; she is holding a laurel wreath--held out on the end of the regal sceptre--over the head of her champion bird, and offering to wager 'a million to ten thousand' on his chances of victory. The Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who, although he was reckoned 'the wisest of men,' perpetually compromised his prospects by his anxiety to make his own future secure, at the sacrifice of consistency, is inclined to put his 'ratting' principles into practice: 'She looks as if she wasn't afraid of any cock in Europe. I won't bet a penny!' Pitt, seated beside his sovereign, is crying, 'I should like to have a bout with her, but I'm afraid she'd soon do my business!' The King of Prussia has every confidence in his champion: 'Two hundred thousand rix-dollars the cock wins!' The Prince of Wales is entering into the sport: 'I wish they'd let my bird encounter her; he'd soon lower her crest; ten thousand she turns tail!' The Grand Seigneur is striking his Grand Vizier, and declaring to a female favourite who is leaning over his shoulder, 'If the cock wins, by our holy Prophet, I swear he shall be cherished in our seraglio as long as he lives!' The King of Spain is remarking, 'It is easy to see by her spunk Potemkin has been her feeder!' The Emperor of Austria's pocket-book seems empty. Catherine's favourite, Potemkin, full of valorous confidence, is encouraging his Empress: 'A million roubles she'll win! At him again, my dear mistress! Potemkin, your invincible feeder, will back you to the last.' Louis the Sixteenth of France, whose crown has dwindled down to a mere trinket, is falling into raptures of admiration over the Russian hen: 'I would give all that I have left of a crown for such a glorious bird!' _May 16, 1791._ _The Volcano of Opposition._ Rowlandson (?). _May 17, 1791._ _The Ghost of Mirabeau and Dr. Price Appearing to Old Loyola._ Rowlandson (?). [Illustration: A LITTLE TIGHTER.] _May 18, 1791._ _A Little Tighter._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The picture tells its own story. A ladies' tailor has brought home a pair of stays for a corpulent dowager. The process of investing her ladyship in her new corsage seems to demand an enormous exertion of muscular vigour. _May 18, 1791._ _A Little Bigger._ (Companion print.)--The principal figure in this plate is that of a corpulent individual, who is being measured by a meagre whipper-snapper anatomy of a tailor; the girth of his portly client is giving the knight of the needle no slight difficulty to surround his person with his measuring-tape, and the customer is impressing on his tailor the necessity of leaving ample room for his obese proportions. 1791. _Cold Broth and Calamity._ (See 1792.) _August 1, 1791._ _Housebreakers._ (See 1788.) Published by S. W. Fores. [Illustration: DAMP SHEETS.] _August 1, 1791._ _Damp Sheets._ Drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinta by T. Malton.--A gentleman, who is evidently on his travels, is thrown into a state of the most furious indignation on arriving at the discovery, as he is retiring to rest, that he and his wife have been put into a bed with damp sheets; the lady is wringing the moisture from the offending linen, and the husband is dancing about, gesticulating in frantic fashion and shaking his fist in the face of a pretty servant-maid, who, replying to the summons of the injured guests, is bustling up with the warming-pan in her hand, believing her services are required in that direction. [Illustration: ENGLISH BARRACKS.] _August 12, 1791._ _English Barracks._ Aquatinted by T. Malton. Published by S. W. Fores.--A view of the interior of a cavalry barracks, reproducing a scene more properly indicative of domestic than of military life, although weapons and accoutrements are scattered about. Drums and guns are piled in one corner; at the window is a trooper _en négligé_ employed in brushing his uniform. A woman is nursing a strapping boy, while a soldier at her side, in complete uniform, is adjusting his helmet at the looking-glass. Another trooper has a child in his arms, and is putting a lad, who is playing at soldiers, through his musketry exercise; while a pretty maiden is presiding at the washing-tub. An old grandmother, who is giving a playful infant a ride on her back, is pouring out a glass of cordial for another warrior, whose toilette is far from complete. Guns, sabres, military saddles, pistol-holsters, and other warlike objects are hung on the wall, giving the apartment, which is otherwise blank enough, a certain air of picturesque decoration. _August 12, 1791._ _French Barracks._ (Companion to the above.)--The interior of a French barracks offers a perfect contrast to the simplicity and decorous order which mark the occupants of an _English Barracks_. The barrack-room is extensive, and handsomely decorated with trophies of weapons, which, with a suit of mail, are disposed on the walls with a good eye to effect. The officers are rising and dressing for morning parade. An officer, the principal features of whose countenance are absorbed in a pair of huge moustachios, is seated on the regimental drum, while a pretty girl is employed unromantically in trimming the warrior's toenails. A soldier-barber is at the same time dressing the hero's locks and binding up his monstrous pigtail, which reaches over a yard in length--a standard of valour of protracted dimensions. A lad is bringing this well-attended son of Mars his monstrous jack-boots, of a size and weight to displace the great guns of his battery with considerable effect. All these dandy warriors seem to be utterly dependent on the assistance of their factotums; it is difficult to imagine these 'curled darlings' in connection with gunpowder and a field of battle. A second officer is enveloped in his powdering-gown, while his barber-valet is smothering him with volumes of violet-clouds from his puffing apparatus. Another hero appears reluctant to abandon his morning slumbers; he is seated, in his shirt, gaping frightfully, on the side of his bed. One distinguished being has almost completed his elaborate toilette; the due adjustment of his lace fall and cravat is engaging his exclusive attention; he is standing in front of a large mirror to perform this delicate manipulation with proper effect, and a very beautiful girl--whose own toilette is neglected, and whose voluptuous charms are freely exposed--is holding a second glass at the warrior's back, that he may be enabled to contemplate the reflection of his own admired rear in the larger mirror; meanwhile one of his petty officers is standing on the salute, ready to receive the orders of his chief. A pretty woman, a young mother, is suckling an infant; and another child, whose wardrobe is limited to a single garment, is, while eating breakfast, training a poodle to stand at ease with a sword in his paw--a ridiculous parody of the warlike accompaniments around. [Illustration: SLUGS IN A SAWPIT.] _October 28, 1791._ _Slugs in a Sawpit._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--A brace of heroes, naval and military, are endeavouring to adjust their differences by an appeal to arms; the combat, for the sake of retirement and convenience, is taking place at the bottom of a sawpit. It seems that the duel is of a most obstinate nature; three or four broken swords are strewn around; and, honour not being yet satisfied, recourse has evidently been had to pistols, several of which (some dismantled), with balls, &c., are also thrown about on the limited field of conflict. It seems the antagonists are most implacable, as, after exchanging all these inconclusive passes and discharges, they are resorting finally to the use of a pair of huge blunderbusses, about the dimensions of fieldpieces, which would hold some pounds of slugs. The old Commodore is stooping his fat body, and the military buck is resting on one knee, in order to get the monstrous weapons into comfortable positions for firing; both combatants look a trifle nervous, as the results are likely to be tolerably marked at such ranges; the guns of the inveterate duellists are side by side, the stocks resting on their respective shoulders and the muzzles just touching their noses. The consequences likely to ensue on pulling the triggers can be easily imagined. A workman has just arrived at the edge of his sawpit in time to discover the trespasses these ferocious fire-eaters are making on his property. _November 22, 1791._ _How to Escape Winning._--A pictorial satire directed against a famous incident of the turf, which provoked an unusual amount of attention and scandalous comments in proportion; the question never having been satisfactorily disposed of, although it has been generally received that the Prince of Wales, who owned the notorious racehorse _Escape_, was more sinned against than sinning. It is sufficient to mention that the horse in question, from certain circumstances which became a subject of vexed debate long after the occurrence, did _not_ win the race, when it was pretty evident, under fair conditions of horse-racing, that he could have distanced every horse on the course. In the print--which is the chief point we have to deal with--the race is being run; the other jockeys are making great efforts to get ahead; the Prince's jockey, Chiffney, on _Escape_, is holding in his mount; the horse is furious at the restraint which is crippling him and preventing his running freely, the animal's near fore-leg being secured to his off hind-leg with the owner's _Order of the Garter_, _'Honi soit qui mal y pense.'_ The figure of a sporting character, intended either for that of the owner or trainer of this unlucky _Escape_, is standing with his finger to his nose, an action implying that he has made it all right for himself. In the distance the backers of the Prince's horse are either regarding the owner with suspicion or are stamping with rage at the fraud by which they are doomed to lose instead of winning their money. _November 22, 1791._ _How to Escape Losing._--The principal figure is standing in much the same style of 'knowing' attitude as that displayed in the previous plate. The race is still being run; _Escape_ is leading, the garter, _Qu'en pensez-vous_, only remains attached to the near fore-leg; but the horse's chances are borne down by heavy impediments; a pair of weights are slung over the jockey's shoulders and other weights are suspended round the horse's neck and in front of and behind his saddle. 1791. _Angelo's Fencing Rooms._ (From _Reminiscences of Henry Angelo, with Memoirs of his Friends, &c._)--'For some years I had a fencing-room at the Opera House, Haymarket, over the entrance of the pit-door. On the evening of June 17, 1789, about eight o'clock, when in Berkeley Square, I saw a black smoke ascending; and soon hearing that there was a fire in the Haymarket, I directly hastened there, when, to my surprise, I beheld the Opera House in flames. Having the key of my room in my pocket, and the crowd making way for me, I soon got there, at the time the back part was burning. I first secured the portrait of Monsieur Saint George (the famous fencer), which hung over the chimneypiece and removed it to St. Alban's Street, where I then resided. At my return, though I was not absent six minutes, the mob had rushed in and plundered the room of everything. As to the foils, jackets, &c., they were of little value to me compared to what I had in my closet--a portfolio of beautiful drawings, particularly several valuable ones of Cipriani, also of Mortimer, Rowlandson, &c., the loss of which I much regretted; but consoled myself by saving Saint George's picture, which he sat purposely for and offered me, after our fencing together, the second day of his arrival in the country. It was painted by Brown, an American artist, much encouraged here at the time. The last day of his sitting he dined at my father's, when, my mother enquiring of him if it was a good likeness, he smiled and replied (he was a Creole), 'Oh, madame, c'est si ressemblant _que c'est affreux_.' My room, which was in the front, was the only one saved from the flames in the whole house; and fortunately, the engines being placed in it, prevented the fire from communicating to Market Lane. 'Sergeant Leger was an excellent fencer of the _première force_, whose elegant figure and mildness of manners greatly influenced the amateurs of the science. Though he was only in the ranks, his presence in every fencing-room was acceptable, and when Saint George was his antagonist the match never failed to excite attention. _Fencing._--'In 1785 Monsieur Le Brun, a celebrated fencing-master now at Paris, visited England. My academy in the Haymarket being then the general rendezvous for all the foreigners who were either masters or amateurs of the science, and near the coffee-house, their usual resort, he paid me a visit. I was his first antagonist. I soon found out, as the pugilists call it, that he was a "good customer" (a queer one to deal with); so much so, that, however I might have distinguished myself before my scholars with the number of fencing-masters, &c. whom I have opposed, here I had nothing to boast of. 'I should observe that he was a left-handed fencer, and in full exercise in Paris, and of course he must have been daily in the habit of fencing with many, while in the course of years I might not meet with six of superior force. Finding such an excellent competitor, and as I thought that it would be beneficial to my scholars to accustom themselves to practise against a left-handed fencer, I told him he would be welcome to us all.' Henry Angelo, who held the highest opinion of St. George, has drawn up the following account of his accomplishments:-- 'The Chevalier de St. George was born at Gaudaloupe. He was the son of M. de Boulogne, a rich planter in the colony. His mother was a negress, and was known under the name of the "handsome Nanon;" she was justly considered one of the finest women that Africa had ever sent to the plantations. The Chevalier de St. George united in his own person the grace and the features of his mother with the strength and firmness of M. de Boulogne. No man ever united so much suppleness to so much strength. He excelled in all the bodily exercises in which he engaged; an excellent swimmer and skater, he has been frequently known to swim over the Seine with one arm, and to surpass others by his agility upon its surface in the winter. He was a skilful horseman and a remarkable shot--he rarely missed his aim, when his pistol was once before the mark; his talents in music unfolded themselves rapidly: his concertos, symphonies, quartettos, and some comic operas are the best proofs of his extraordinary progress in music. Though he was very young he was at the head of the concert of amateurs: he conducted the orchestras of Madame de Montesson and the Marquis de Montalembert. 'But the art in which he surpassed all his contemporaries and predecessors was fencing; no professor or amateur ever showed so much accuracy, such strength, such length of lunge, and such quickness; his attacks were a perpetual series of hits--his parade so close that it was in vain to attempt to touch him; in short, he was all nerve. 'In the summer of the year 1787, on returning to my residence in St. Alban's Street, I was surprised at the appearance of lights and a crowd of people entering Mr. Rheda's fencing academy; on enquiry I was informed that the Chevalier St. George had arrived in England, and was about to exhibit his great talents at that place. I immediately went in and renewed my acquaintance with him; and as it is customary for fencing-masters of celebrity to engage with each other at such meetings, I proposed myself, and was accepted as the first professor who engaged with him in this country. 'It may not be unworthy to remark that, from his being much taller, and consequently possessing a greater length of lunge, I found I could not depend upon my attacks with sufficient confidence unless I closed with him; the consequence was, upon my adopting that measure, the hit which I gave was so "palpable," that it "threw open his waistcoat," which so enraged him that, in his fury, I received a blow from the _pommel_ of the foil on my chin, the mark of which I still retain as a _souvenir_ of having engaged with the first fencer in Europe. 'It may be remarked of this celebrated man, that although he might be considered as a lion with a foil in his hand, yet, the contest over, he was as docile as a lamb; for soon after the engagement, when seated to rest himself, he said to me, "_Mon cher ami, donnez-moi votre main, nous tirons tous les jours ensemble._"' On leaving this country the Chevalier St. George presented Mr. Angelo with his portrait by Mather Brown, his fencing-foil, glove, and jacket, which were hung up in the rooms rented by Angelo over the Opera portico (Haymarket). Among the competitors in these fencing assaults, which were patronised by the Prince of Wales, and were sometimes held at Carlton House, are mentioned the names of D'Eon, M. Fabian, M. Magé (who was reckoned second to M. St. George among the amateurs of Paris), M. Sainville, Mr. Rheda, Mr. Mola, and Mr. Angelo, Sen. 1791. _A Four-in-Hand._ 1791. _The Inn Yard on Fire._ Drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinted by T. Malton.--_Dover, Deal, Margate, and Canterbury Coaches._--Fires at inns were by no means exceptional occurrences, if we may trust contemporary novelists; and who could have seized the changeful scenes of life flitting around them with such humour and fidelity as Fielding and the followers of his genial, life-like school have arrived at? Their fictitious personages, as Thackeray has argued, have often more vitality than those of actual history. Everyone who was not content to live and die in one spot--the little space whereon they were born--must, at one time or another, have given way to the incentive of travel; all the world, high and low, aristocratic or mercantile, must, in the course of journeys in the pursuit of pleasure, variety, scenery, health, gain, or from necessity, from spot to spot, have encountered the humours of an inn; since the slow-going waggon, or the inevitable 'machine,' which, in a later generation, was supplanted by the flying stage-coach (itself, as judged by the present system of transport, a very tedious, insupportable affair, according to modern ideas--a serious and solitary means of travelling), and the various eccentric methods of locomotion indulged in a century back, rendered frequent 'puttings up' at posting-houses in a measure unavoidable. A traveller in the good old days when Fielding and Smollett noted down their pictures of life was almost bound to meet adventures of one sort or another. There was the excitement of the start, the difficulty of securing comfort in the article of seats, and sociability in the way of companionship; the dangers of the environs of London--the heaths, where the mail was always liable to be arrested at the wayward will of the pleasant and popular Mr. Richard Turpin, on his equally well-bred 'Black Bess,' or at the hands and holsters of less famous and ruder professional contemporaries; the risk of the roads; the digging of the great lumbering Noah's Ark from soft ways and quagmires; capsizing, or being snowed up, and such eventualities. Bad roads, disagreeable comrades, a stuffy inside place, or a moist outside 'shake-down,' were at intervals relieved by the arrival of the _cortége_ at some hospitable hostelry, with its vast rambling galleries and its commodious courtyard, where further adventures were not unlikely to attend the voyager. Who'er has travell'd life's dull round, Through all its various paths hath been, Must oft have wondered to have found His warmest welcome at an inn! [Illustration: INN YARD ON FIRE.] The ardent house-warming prepared for the passengers at the _Inn Yard on Fire_ barely justifies the rapture of the rhymer. From the notice-board we find the _Dover, Deal, Margate, and Canterbury Coaches_ are advertised to set out from the caravansary in question. The strangers are rudely disturbed, while the flames are lapping the old building and serpentining their way round the inflammable wooden balconies, as the suddenly awakened inmates take to flight with such solitary articles as come first to hand. Peregrine is rescuing Emilia much as Rowlandson has drawn that worthy in his illustration to the exciting situation of the fire at an inn yard. (See _The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle_, chapter xxvii.) A sufferer from gout is being conveyed in a wheelbarrow out of imminent danger of roasting; an old dowager has appeared on the scene with a pair of leather breeches to cover her shoulders, recalling similar episodes in La Fontaine, Boccaccio, &c.; while a corpulent old boy has simply thrown a lady's quilted petticoat round his neck. A waggon and horses are being dragged out of the dangerous vicinity. From its contiguity to the French route between Dover and Calais the house is evidently frequented by foreigners lately landed on our shores, and the unexpected warmth of their reception is too much for the excitable Gauls. One Frenchman, an officer, is making good his escape; his personal wardrobe is sacrificed, but he has secured his most precious belongings, an umbrella, a sword, his jack-boots, and his wig and solitaire--wigs being in those days somewhat costly appendages. A compatriot by his side is endeavouring to make off with his worldly possessions, and is dragging a heavy portmanteau at his heels; this salvage is endangered by the suspicions of a bulldog, who is not to be shaken off; the animal is first stopping the box, and finally arresting the fugitive by seizing his long _queue_ in his mouth, a mode of arrest against which the terrified _Parlez-vous_ is unequal and unable to defend himself. An antiquated husband is holding a ladder for the escape of his pretty wife; the curmudgeon is furious that the personal attractions of his better half should be thus displayed to the less privileged males around, who are assisting her delicate descent. The dangers of the fire are increased by the reckless impulse characteristic of similar casualties, in which blazing objects are hurled out of window, spreading the flames to places which have hitherto escaped ignition. Mirrors and tables, sheets and other objects, are sent flying from the upper galleries on to the heads of the scared travellers below. If the _Squall in Hyde Park_ may be accepted as an ordeal by water, the _Inn Yard on Fire_ must be acknowledged a most appropriate pendant. These plates were, it is believed, issued as a pair. Both are of one size, etched by Rowlandson, and aquatinted by T. Malton; the execution is spirited as regards outline, and the tinting is most successfully and delicately carried out. The second print, _A Squall in Hyde Park_, is, the Editor has reason to believe, the scarcer of the two; a copy (proof) in the National Library, Paris, and the one in his own collection, are the solitary examples with which he is acquainted. The _Inn Yard on Fire_ is more familiarly known; and, although original impressions command prices which are seemingly fabulous, several impressions, of varying excellence, have come under the writer's attention. 1791. _A Squall in Hyde Park._ Drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson; aquatinted by T. Malton.--The fashionable throngs which Rowlandson, with his marvellously faithful pencil, has so often drawn, disporting themselves in the paths of frivolity amidst the haunts of _the ton_, are viewed by him under a more excited aspect. The promenaders, in a state of _sauve qui peut_, are rushing off pellmell in an attempt to preserve their dripping finery from the effects of a sudden thunderstorm. Doubtless _A Squall in Hyde Park_ may occur frequently enough in our day, but the artist who proposes to lend his graphic powers to delineate the episodes of such a stampede in the present generation would not have his eye for the picturesque gratified by the discovery of such grotesque elements as gratuitously lent themselves to the appreciative caricaturist a century back. Rowlandson's animated cartoon successfully includes all the diversities of the situation. The park-gates are crowded by the sudden _exeunt omnes_--pedestrians, horses, and carriages are mixed in one confused mass in the struggle to escape from a miniature tempest. Peers and pedagogues, the man of fashion in search of gallant adventures, and the hypochondriac, limping parkwards to take the air; the ignorant, new-fledged squire, the rustic dandy, whose head-dressing does not extend beyond the powdered and frizzed peruke, and the man of knowledge and philosophy, are thrown into violent contact, and unexpectedly realise whose cranium is the hardest. The storm breaks, the black clouds gather and meet, down pours a very torrent, and the wind suddenly takes to blowing 'big guns;' hats, caps, and bonnets, wigs and head-gear generally, are sent flying off on independent excursions; the sport of the sudden squall, to the dismay of the bereaved owners; umbrellas of the period--still popular novelties, in substantiality very different to their genteel descendants--are without exception blown inside-out; feathers, which were worn of great height, splendour, and profusion, are moistened and dripping like weeping willows. The Prince of Wales, in 'blue and buff,' on horseback, followed by his groom, is pushing forward for Carlton House; Lord Barrymore, in his lofty phaeton,[38] has to exert all his charioteering skill to restrain his terrified and plunging high-mettled steeds; while the fair companion perched by his side, high over the heads of the humbler stream of struggling humanity, is complacently enjoying the spectacle of the dilemmas around her. Footmen are dripping; naval and military heroes are retreating; such hats as have not been violently carried off are secured by handkerchiefs tied under the chin, or held on by main force; petticoats are turned over shoulders. The spectacle of confusion is fairly completed by an unfortunate slip, which has left the person of the unhappy victim a stumbling-block for the general capsizing of the hurried file which is following in his footsteps. A sturdy old admiral, in an advanced stage of corpulence, is rather enjoying the opportunity, to which the ruffling winds are contributing, of viewing the points of the dishevelled fair, and, spyglass in eye, like his Grace the notorious Peer of Piccadilly, he is quizzing the ankles and criticising the symmetry of the dainty belles before him; the long, gauze-like, and limp drapery in multitudinous folds then in vogue being exceptionally liable to come to grief under all such sinister emergencies. To add to the terrors of the flight, a fierce bulldog, irritated with the general condition of things, is taking exception to this universal attempt at escape, as indicating suspicion to his faithful mind; he is making darts at the passengers, and it will go hard with the fugitives he may take it into his head to arrest by the tension of his formidable teeth. _Plates dated 1791-93 and 1795-96. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, by Henry Fielding, Esq. With prints by Rowlandson._ Edinburgh and London (Longman & Co.), republished 1805. VOLUME I. Frontispiece, book I. c. iii. The Infant Jones found in the bed of Mr. Allworthy. Book II. c. iv. The astonished Partridge meets the vengeance of the whole sex (Partridge cruelly accused and maltreated by his wife). Book IV. c. v. Tom Jones discovers the Philosopher Square in the Chamber of Moll Seagrim. Book V. c. x. The constancy of Tom Jones subdued by meeting Molly Seagrim in the wood. VOLUME II. Book VIII. c. xiv. Terror of the Sentinel on seeing Jones issue from the Chamber in search of Northerton. Book IX. c. ii. Tom Jones rescues Mrs. Waters from the violence of Northerton. Book IX. c. iii. Battle of Upton; Tom Jones and the Landlord, Partridge and Susan, Mrs. Waters and the Landlady. Book XI. c. ii. Sophia's modesty shocked by a fall from her horse. VOLUME III. Book XIII. c. ii. Tom Jones refused admittance by the porter at the door of an Irish peer. Book XIII. c. ii. Jones and Sophia interrupted in a _tête-à-tête_ by Lady Bellaston. Book XIV. c. ii. Partridge interrupts Tom Jones in his protestations to Lady Bellaston. Book XV. c. 5. Lord Fellamar rudely dismissed by Squire Western. 1791-93, 1795-96. _The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle; in which are included Memoirs of a Lady of Quality. By T. Smollett, M.D. With plates by Rowlandson._ Edinburgh and London (Longman): 1805. Chap. xxvii. _Fire at the Inn. Peregrine Rescues Emilia, &c._ Chap. xliv. _Feast after the Manner of the Ancients._ 1791. _Délices de la Grande-Bretagne._ Engraved and published by William Birch, enamel painter, Hampstead Heath. Two illustrations by Rowlandson. _Dover Castle_; with the setting off of the Balloon to Calais, in January 1785. _Market Day at Blandford, Dorsetshire._ 1792. _January 1792._ _St. James's--St. Giles's._ H. Wigstead, invt. Published by T. Rowlandson, Strand; and republished (1794) by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The parish of _St. James's_ is represented by two modish frail nymphs, elegantly decked out in the Frenchified fashion of the period; their profuse locks spread forth, frizzed and powdered, in the style imported from Paris by Mrs. Fitzherbert; the refinement of their appearance ill accords with a bowl of punch which they are convivially sharing. The ruder precincts of _St. Giles's_ are pictured in the persons of two coarse, overgrown females of the 'fishfag' and 'street ballad singing' order, swaggering with sufficient impudence to set the universe at defiance. _January 1792._ _Oddities._ Henry Wigstead, invt., January 1792. Published by T. Rowlandson, Strand. Republished 1794, by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--A group of caricatured heads, types of expression and burlesqued peculiarities, in two prints, designed by Henry Wigstead, and engraved and published by Thomas Rowlandson. _February 22, 1792._ _The Bank._ Published by T. Rowlandson, Strand. _February 22, 1792._ _Work for Doctors' Commons._ Published by T. Rowlandson, Strand.--There is no evidence to prove this print directly proceeds from the pencil of Rowlandson, but there are indications of his style, both in the subject and in the execution; it is also in points suggestive of the early style of Morland. A lady and a captain--a pretty pair--are dallying on a sofa, while the superannuated lawful spouse of the frivolous fair one is ensconced behind a screen, standing on a chair, and surveying the situation over the top of this ambuscade; his footman is watching by his side, impressed as a witness, and is struck with horror at the spectacle of domestic faithlessness, of which he is taking observations through a peephole made through the screen for the purpose of spying. From a MS. note to an impression which has come under the Editor's notice it appears that the contemporary scandal relates to a certain Mrs. Walsh and General Upton. _March 1792._ _A Dutch Academy._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 52 Strand, 1792.--The caricature represents, as the title describes, the interior of a drawing school in Holland; just such a one as may be found there to this day. A corpulent _vrow_ is sitting as a model to the painters, in an attitude more easy than graceful. The Mynheers are clustered around, some of the students, most of whom are advanced in life, and of clumsy, corpulently developed figures, are seated on tubs, others are squatting on the floor, and nearly all are smoking. The Dutchmen, who are of the conventional type--much as we find them pictured in the veracious Knickerbocker's famous _History of New York_, closely encased in buttoned-up jackets, and roomy nether garments--are plodding away at their studies; some few are too interested to do anything beyond indulging in a stolid contemplation of the charms of their material Venus. _April 1, 1792._ _A Lying-in Visit, or a Short-sighted Mistake._ Published by S. W. Fores.--There are various versions of this subject, which it seems was originally suggested by Newton. Several of his contemporaries have tried their hand on it. A small version of the print is due to Rowlandson, and it evidently found favour in its day. A purblind and antiquated spinster, decked out in the very height of the fashion of the day--recalling the artist's suggestive _Old Ewe dressed Lamb Fashion_--is supposed to have called on a visit of congratulation to a young wife who has recently been deserving well of her country, by increasing its population. An old footman, with a powdered head, is bringing in a scuttle of coals; the gushing visitor, who was prepared to go into promiscuous raptures in anticipation, is advancing to embrace the scuttle, which she imperfectly distinguishes, fulsomely exclaiming to the consternation of John Thomas, who is lost in confusion:--'O you pretty creature! Bless the dear baby, how it smiles! Give it to me, Nurse! It has exactly its Papa's nose and Mama's eyes! Oh, it is a delightful little creature!' _May 29, 1791-2._ _Six Stages of Marring a Face--dedicated with respect to the Duke of Hamilton._ A companion to the _Six Stages of mending a Face_.--Stage the first represents the prize fighter (in the days when pugilistic exhibitions were specially given under the patronage of noblemen such as the Duke of Hamilton), in all his muscular force, stripped for the contest, his face undisfigured and manly, as left by nature; in stage the second, one eye is closed; in stage the third he is much disfigured; in the latter stages the shape is entirely beaten out of his features, until the champion is left, in stage the sixth, a hideous mass of bruises, cuts, and bleeding wounds, hammered out of all resemblance to his former self--a spectacle sufficiently revolting to act as an antidote to the morbid excitement and attractiveness of the prize ring. It is worthy of remark that the artist must have drawn this print, exposing the barbarity of the ring, from sheer conviction founded on his own observations, and not from any squeamish distaste for the sport; Rowlandson had enjoyed a wide experience of athletic exercises, in which he was understood to excel, and attended numerous pugilistic encounters, amateur and professional, in his time; his pleasure in drawing well-built figures, with the play of muscle which would be exhibited in the course of 'bouts at fisticuffs' such as he had both the power and skill to delineate, proves that he had a decided predilection for the science, apart from its reprehensible brutalities. It further appears that the artist was somewhat of a boxer. _May 29, 1791-2._ _Six Stages of Mending a Face. Dedicated with respect to the Right Honorable Lady Archer._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--This plate traces the progress of manufacturing a beauty _à la mode_. The first stage introduces the fair one in a very dilapidated condition, and the materials from which the lady is to be reconstructed do not seem promising. A handkerchief is tied over her head to remedy the scarcity of hair; one eye is absent, and the gums are toothless. A handsome glass eye is being adjusted in _stage the second_. _Stage the third_ represents the crowning of the shaven pate with a luxuriant and fashionably dressed head of hair. An artificial set of teeth are being placed in the lady's mouth in the next stage. The lady now approaches an appearance of youth and beauty. In _stage five_ she supplies the roses, hitherto absent from her cheeks, with a hare's foot and rouge. _Stage six_ pictures the completed work, a dashing and captivating belle, with fine eyes (not necessarily a perfect pair it is true), flowing, profuse, and becoming locks of hair, perfect teeth, blooming complexion, and a carriage of conscious grace and coquetry. _June, 1792._ _Ruins of the Pantheon--after the Fire which happened January 14, 1792._ Sketched by Rowlandson and Wigstead. Published by T. Rowlandson, Strand. _Pantheon._--'Persons who witnessed the progress of this tremendous fire declare that the appearances exhibited through the windows, the lofty scagliola pillars enveloped in flames and smoke, the costly damask curtains waving from the rarefaction of the air, and the superb chandeliers turning round from the same circumstance, together with the successive crashing and falling in of different portions of the building, furnished to their minds a more lively representation of Pandemonium than the imagination alone can possibly supply. The effects too of the intense frost which then prevailed, on the water poured from the engines upon the blazing pile, are described as equally singular and magnificent.' J. B. Papworth. 1792. _The Chairman's Terror: Leaving a Levée_, St. James's Palace. Published by T. Rowlandson, 52 Strand. [Illustration: LIEUTENANT BOWLING PLEADING THE CAUSE OF YOUNG ROY TO HIS GRANDFATHER.] _The Adventures of Roderick Random. Roderick Random is conducted by his uncle Tom Bowling on a visit to his grandfather, the judge._--'After a few minutes' pause we were admitted, and conducted to my grandfather's chamber through a lane of my relations, who honoured me with very significant looks as I passed along. When we came into the judge's presence, my uncle, after two or three sea-bows, expressed himself in this manner. "Your servant--your servant. What cheer father? what cheer? I suppose you don't know me--mayhap you don't. My name is Tom Bowling; and this here boy--you look as if you did not know him neither--'tis like you mayn't. He's new rigged, i' faith; his cloth don't shake in the wind so much as it wont to do. 'Tis my nephew, d'ye see, Roderick Random--your own flesh and blood, old gentleman. Don't lay astarn, you dog" (pulling me forward). My grandfather, who was laid up with the gout, received his relation after his long absence with a coldness of civility which was peculiar to him; told him he was glad to see him, and desired him to sit down. "Thank ye, thank ye, sir, I had as lief stand," said my uncle. "For my own part I desire nothing of you; but if you have any conscience at all, do something for this poor boy, who has been used at a very unchristian rate. Unchristian, do you call it? I am sure the Moors in Barbary have more humanity than to leave their little ones to want. I would fain know why my sister's son is more neglected than that there fair-weather Jack" (pointing to the young squire, who, with the rest of my cousins, had followed us into the room). "Is not he as near akin to you as the other? Is not he much handsomer, and better built than that great chucklehead? Come, come--consider, old gentleman, you are going in a short time to give an account of your evil actions. Remember the wrongs you did his father, and make all the satisfaction in your power before it is too late. The least thing you can do is to settle his father's portion on him." The young ladies who thought themselves too much concerned to contain themselves any longer, set up their throats altogether against my protector, "Scurvy companion--saucy tarpaulin--rude, impertinent fellow--did he think he was going to prescribe to grandpapa? His sister's brat had been too well taken care of; grandpapa was too just not to make a difference between an unnatural, rebellious son and his dutiful loving children, who took his advice in all things"--and such expressions were vented against him with great violence, until the judge at length commanded silence. [Illustration: THE PASSENGERS FROM THE WAGGON ARRIVING AT THE INN.] _The Adventures of Roderick Random. Chap. XI._--Roderick Random, and his companion Strap, having alighted from the waggon, are standing a little back in the best room of the Inn, where the landlord, candle in hand, is receiving the rest of the guests, who are entering from the conveyance; Joey, the honest driver of the waggon, is standing behind the obsequious Boniface. Roderick Random thus pursues his narrative:-- 'Here I had an opportunity of viewing the passengers in order as they entered. The first who appeared was a brisk airy girl about twenty years old, with a silver laced hat on her head instead of a cap, a blue stuff riding-suit trimmed with silver, very much tarnished, and a whip in her hand. After her came limping an old man, with a worsted nightcap buttoned under his chin, and a broad brimmed hat slouched over it, and an old rusty blue cloak tied about his neck, under which appeared a brown surtout that covered a threadbare coat and waistcoat, and, as we afterwards discerned, a dirty flannel jacket. His eyes were hollow and bleared, his face was shrivelled into a thousand wrinkles, his gums were destitute of teeth, his nose sharp and drooping, his chin peaked and prominent, so that when he mumped or spoke, they approached one another like a pair of nutcrackers; he supported himself on an ivory headed cane, and his whole figure was a just emblem of winter, famine, and avarice. But how was I surprised when I beheld the formidable captain in the shape of a little thin creature, about the age of forty, with a long withered visage very much resembling that of a baboon, through the upper part of which two little grey eyes peeped: he wore his own hair in a queue that reached to his rump, which immoderate length I suppose was the occasion of a baldness that appeared on the crown of his head, when he deigned to take off his hat, which was very much of the size and cock of Pistol's. Having laid aside his great coat, I could not help admiring the extraordinary make of this man of war: he was about five feet and three inches high, sixteen inches of which went to his face and long scraggy neck; his thighs were about six inches in length, his legs resembling spindles or drumsticks, two feet and a half, and his body, which put me in mind of extension without substance, engrossed the remainder, so that on the whole he appeared like a spider or grasshopper erect, and was almost a _vox et præterea nihil_. His dress consisted of a frock of what is called bear-skin, the skirts of which were about half a foot long, an hussar waistcoat, scarlet breeches reaching halfway down his thighs, worsted stockings rolled up almost to his groin, and shoes with wooden heels at least two inches high; he carried a sword very near as long as himself in one hand, and with the other conducted his lady, who seemed to be a woman of his own age, and still retained some remains of a handsome person; but so ridiculously affected that, had I not been a novice in the world, I might have easily perceived in her the deplorable vanity and second-hand airs of a lady's woman.' _October 1, 1792._ _On Her Last Legs._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. [Illustration: ON HER LAST LEGS.] _November 5, 1792._ _English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover._ (See December, 1785.) _November 5, 1792._ _French Travelling, or the First Stage from London._ (See December, 1785.) _November 5, 1792._ _Studious Gluttons._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. [Illustration: STUDIOUS GLUTTONS.] _Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his friend, Mr. A. Adams._ By Henry Fielding. Illustrated by Rowlandson, 8vo. _November 5, 1792._ _The Convocation._ (See 1785.) Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. 1792. _Philosophy run Mad, or a stupendous Monument of Human Wisdom._ _Signed G. L. S._--As this print exhibits various indications of Rowlandson's handiwork, it has been thought advisable to include it amongst the present selection. The plate represents the general upset of affairs in France. On the wreck of a number of columns marked _Humanity_, _Social Happiness_, _Security_, _Tranquillity_, _Domestic Peace_, _Laws_, _Order_, _Religion_, _Urbanity_, &c., is balanced the seat of the republic of France, or rather that of Paris. A Fury yelling _ça ira_ represents _La République_; in her hand is a picture of _Religious Indifference_ graphically set forth as an _auto da fè_ of Papish Bishops and Cardinals. _Plenty_ is represented by a Fury extending her cornucopia of 'Assignats' to a group of hungry-looking half-starved Frenchmen. _Peace_ is displayed firing a bomb marked _Abolition of Offensive War_; the gun carriage is inscribed _Universal Benevolence_; the Goddess of Order is blowing through a trumpet the tidings, _Peace of Europe established_. _Equality_ is travestied as an aristocrat kneeling in the dust, while a half-naked sansculotte is treading on his neck and beating his head with a club. _Liberty_ is shown as a Jacobin, trampling on the Law, and holding the head of a Conventionalist on a dagger, to which the rulers of the state are compelled to bow their obeisance. _Humanity_ is parodied by a female monster holding up the heart of a martyr to the new religion. 1792. _The Grandpapa._ Designed by H. Wigstead. (See January 1, 1784.) 1792. _Cold Broth and Calamity._--This print has the reputation of being an unusually successful example of the artist's humorous powers of delineation, and the writer has seen several original designs on the same subject by Rowlandson's hand; in some cases the drawings are larger and more important in character than the etching of _Cold Broth and Calamity_; the subject seems to have been a favourite one. The scene represents the waters of one of the parks, or of a frozen river; in the foreground is a scene of grotesque confusion, the ice has given way, and a party of skaters have fallen through; heads, arms, and skate-bound feet are waving over the hole, through which a group of unfortunates are engulphed. A little distance off the face of another unfortunate is thrust through a hole in the ice, wigless, and wearing the sort of alarm one could conceive under the circumstances; while further on half a face, with a wig and pig-tail attached, is visible, the owner of which is evidently shouting for assistance. Other skaters are disporting themselves in the distance; they, too, are getting themselves into difficulties. A stout parsonic-looking personage, in a full-bottomed wig, is falling forward, with the certainty of his body breaking through the ice: the upset of this capacious individual will involve a skater who is following him closely, whose hat and wig have already flown away from him. A party of snug old gentlemen in top-boots and ample great-coats are enjoying the sufferings of their fellow-creatures, comfortably on the banks, and in the distance is seen a large tent for the accommodation of visitors. 1792. _An Italian Family._ (See _A French Family_, 1790.) Drawing exhibited at the Royal Academy, 1784. [Illustration: AN ITALIAN FAMILY.] _November 5, 1792._ _The Hypochondriac._ Designed by James Dunthorne; etched by T. Rowlandson; published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. The Mind distemper'd--say, what potent charm, Can Fancy's spectre--brooding rage disarm? Physic's prescriptive art assails in vain The dreadful phantoms floating 'cross the brain! Until, with Esculapian skill, the sage M.D. Finds out at length by self-taught palmistry The hopeless case, in the reluctant fee: Then, not in torture such a wretch to keep, One pitying bolus lays him sound asleep. The _Hypochondriac_, forming a companion to _Ague and Fever_ (See March 29, 1788), is another instance of the difficulty of attempting to express mental and physical maladies by pictorial embodiments, the designer being one of the ingenious amateurs of the period, who had recourse to more experienced professional hands to work their conceptions into presentable shape, with, at least, some regard for the accepted ideas of form, and a certain respect for the technicalities of execution. The _Hypochondriac_ is seated in his arm-chair, in night-cap and slippers, and wrapped in a flannel dressing-gown, his arms are folded, and his head droops, in melancholy meditation, on his chest; the expression of his features is moody in the extreme. By his side is an iron-clamped chest, to hint that the sufferer is somewhat tenacious of his wealth, although his life has otherwise become insupportably burdensome. Phantoms, and figurative horrors of various descriptions, are haunting the invalid's diseased mind. There is a dagger, like the sword of Damocles, trembling above his head. A grim skeleton of Death is, with grotesque energy, threatening to hurl his dart, as a release from life's fretful calamities. A corpse, with grave-clothes clinging to its ghastly frame, is proffering the means of making an untimely exit, by a rope or a pistol at choice; another phantom figure is setting the example of plunging headlong down to destruction; a goblin is offering a cup of poison; while a spectre, wearing the sufferer's own image, is suggesting on his fictitious person the ease of cutting his throat. A hand with a drawn sword, a ghostly hearse, and heads of Medusa-like description, with furies, fates, &c., appear for the purpose of daunting the unsettled brain of the haunted _Hypochondriac_. A table is covered with _Doctor's Stuff_, and a well-fed and prosperous charlatan, in attendance on the distempered patient, is in consultation with a pretty waiting-maid, whose face and person give indications of the most flourishing health--a palpable contrast to the sufferer on whom she is retained to attend. _November 25, 1792._ _Benevolence._ Published by S. W. Fores. [Illustration: BENEVOLENCE.] 1792. _Botheration; dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar._ (See 1785.) _December, 1792._ _The Contrast, 1792. Which is best? British Liberty, Religion, Morality, Loyalty, Obedience to the Laws, Independence, Personal Security, Justice, Inheritance, Protection, Property, Industry, National Prosperity, Happiness; or French Liberty, Atheism, Perjury, Rebellion, Treason, Anarchy, Murder, Equality, Madness, Cruelty, Injustice, Treachery, Ingratitude, Idleness, Famine, National and Private Ruin, Misery?_ A pair of medallions, designed by Lord George Murray, and sent by him to the _Crown and Anchor_, from whence they were freely distributed; the style of the execution bears the strongest resemblance to Rowlandson's handiwork. _British Liberty_ is peaceful and flourishing; Britannia is seated under an oak, her arm resting on her shield; in one hand is the cap of _Liberty_, and _Magna Charta_, in the other the scales of Justice evenly balanced. The British Lion is at her feet; seen in the rear is the wide ocean, with British ships riding triumphant. The contrast to this prospect is _French Liberty_; the genius of France is a fury, serpents are twined round her head and waist, she is carrying flames and destruction in her progress; she is holding a dagger in one hand; in the other is a pike, on which two human hearts and a head are impaled; her foot is trampling on the decapitated trunk of one of the victims to revolutionary frenzy. An aristocrat is shown in the background, hanging by the neck to a street lamp. Sold by S. W. Fores (January 1, 1793), twenty-one shillings per hundred plain, two guineas coloured. [Illustration: BEAUTIES.] _December 1, 1792._ _Beauties._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. FOOTNOTE: [38] 'Lord Barrymore's phaeton was a very high one; and after our midnight revels in town I have often travelled in it with him to Wargrave. One very dark night, going through Colnbrook, in the long street called Featherbed Lane, he kept whipping right and left, breaking the windows, delighted with the noise as he heard them crack--this he called _fanning the daylights_.'--_Angelo's Memoirs._ 1793. _January 1, 1793._ _The Old Angel Inn at Islington._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _January 8, 1793._ _Reform Advised: Reform Begun: Reform Complete._ Published by J. Brown, 2 Adelphi.--_Reform Advised_: John Bull, in his comfortable easy chair, and wearing the homely and decent clothes of a well-to-do citizen, is seated beside his substantial fare of good roast beef and plum pudding, with his mug of 'home-brewed.' Three of the French reformers are taking compassion upon his peaceful ignorance; they have come over from Paris expressly to convert him to the advantages of the new order of things. These tatterdemalions are hungry, ragged, and by no means prepossessing as regards their exteriors; and, while John Bull is attributing his comforts to 'the blessed effects of a good constitution,' the sansculottes are taking considerable pains to bring him to a contrary conviction. The leader is offering him the cap of liberty and tricolor, and asserting: 'I am your friend, John Bull: you want a reform;' his followers declare, 'My honourable friend speaks my sentiments;' and 'John Bull, you are too fat!' _Reform Begun_ discovers John Bull under altered circumstances; his broadcloth is all in tatters, he has a wooden leg, and is shoeless; in his hand is a frog, which he despairs of relishing: 'A pretty Reform, indeed; you have deprived me of my leg, and given me nothing but frogs to eat; I shall be starved; I am no Frenchman!' His three philosopher friends now wear a more threatening aspect, and are menacing John Bull with bludgeons and daggers; one is crying: 'Eat it, you dog, and hold your tongue: you are very happy.' The others are adding: 'That's right, my friend, we will make him happier still!' and 'He is a little leaner now!' _Reform Complete_ shows the national prototype thrown to the ground, and quite powerless under the results of the new _régime_: 'Oh, oh! French fraternity!' he is groaning, while the Reformers, flourishing their flaming incendiary torches, are dancing on his prostrate body: 'Oh, delightful! you may thank me, you dog, for sparing your life--thank me, I say!' 'Now he is quite happy--I will have a jump!' 1793. _New Shoes._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. (Republished 1804.)--The interior of a cottage, a pretty buxom country maiden is artlessly exhibiting a pair of new shoes to a smart young collegian, who is stooping, cap in hand, to admire the effect. The father, looking in at the window, has taken in the situation at a glance, and his face does not express approval. A cat is taking advantage of the general attention being fully engaged, to help herself liberally from a pan of milk. 1793. _Major Topham_ (of the 'World,') _endeavouring with his squirt to extinguish the Rising Genius of Holman_. Republished (see 1785, &c.). 1793. _Illustrations to Smollett's Novels._ Published by J. Siebbald, Edinbrough. Republished 1805, Longman and Co. (See 1791.) _May 25, 1793._ _A Tit Bit for the Bugs._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--A stout victim disturbed in the night, by the plague of insects, is sleepily trying to free himself from his tormentors. Alas! what avails all thy scrubbings and shrugs: Thou hadst better return to thy sheets; Heap mountains of clothes over thee and thy bugs, And smother the hive in the streets. _September 25, 1794._ _An Old Maid in Search of a Flea._ Published by S. W. Fores. G. M. Woodward invt., Rowlandson sculp. Companion to the above. 1792-93. Two illustrations, published by J. Siebbald, 1792. One illustration, _Soldiers on March, making a feast with Filles de Joie_, 1793, vol. ii. p. 44. 1793. _Narrative of the War._ _October 17, 1793._ _Amputation._ Published by S. W. Fores. (See 1783.) Illustrations to Fielding, _Tom Jones_, &c. (see 1791); T. Smollett. _Expedition of Humphrey Clinker_, ten plates by T. Rowlandson, republished 1805, Longman & Co. 1794. [Illustration: THE GRANDPAPA.] _January 1, 1794._ _The Grandpapa._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. This print appeared originally in 1792.--The conception of the plate is due to Henry Wigstead, the Bow Street magistrate, to whom as a friend and travelling companion of Rowlandson, a merry wit, and one of the congenial spirits of his day, several references have been made in the course of this work. The grandpapa is evidently enraptured with his infantine descendant, for whose diversion he is going through certain ludicrous antics; the venerable gentleman's tongue is not, as at first glance it would appear, lolling out in idiotic contortions: it is a lump of sugar which he is holding between his teeth to divert the infant; and his performances are so far crowned with success, that his little favourite seems delighted with his exertions. 1794. _Grog on Board._ (See 1785.) 1794. _Tea on Shore._ (See 1784.) [Illustration: ENGLISH CURIOSITY, OR THE FOREIGNER STARED OUT OF COUNTENANCE.] _January 1, 1794._ _English Curiosity, or the Foreigner stared out of Countenance._ (See 1784.)--This print, republished by S. W. Fores, and bearing the date of 1794, seems to have made its appearance as appropriate to the time, the caricatures of this year making capital out of the arrival of a distinguished stranger in this country, the great _Plenipo_, whose title appears in numerous satires and ballads:-- [Illustration: TRAFFIC.] When he came to the Court, oh, what giggle and sport, Such squinting and squeezing to view him! What envy and spleen in the women were seen, All happy and pleased to get to him. They vow'd in their hearts if men of such parts Were found on the coast of Barbary, 'Twas a shame not to bring a whole guard for the king, Like the great plenipotentiary. _January 1, 1794._ _Arrival of a Balloon._ Aquatinted. _January 1, 1794._ _A Series of small Landscapes._ Aquatinted. _January 17, 1794._ _St. James's and St. Giles's._ (See 1792.) _September 25, 1794._ _An Old Maid in Search of a Flea._ S. M. U. invt., Rowlandson fecit. _New Shoes._ Published by S. W. Fores. (See 1793.) _December 16, 1794._ _Traffic._ Republished by S. W. Fores. (See 1791.)--Two Jew clothesmen are securing a parcel of cast-off garments at the door of a highly respectable mansion, whereat a buxom housemaid is disposing of her master's old apparel. In the street beyond is shown the milkman adding up his score--a mode of calculation prevalent in the artist's day, although it has become obsolete long enough ago in the metropolis. _December 16, 1794._ _The Comforts of High Living._ Published by S. W. Fores. _December 18, 1794._ _Village Cavalry practising in a Farm Yard._ G. M. Woodward invt. Rowlandson sculp. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.--The volunteer and militia movements were pushed forward with enthusiasm in 1794, it being generally believed that the French might attempt a descent on our shores at any moment, and the loyally disposed were determined that they would not be taken either unawares or unprepared. Abundant materials were offered for the sallies of the satirists: the training and equipment of this new army of defence presented a sufficiency of comic incidents; we find Bunbury, Gillray, Woodward, and Rowlandson, burlesquing the rustic cavalry; in the present plate a number of farmers and helpers, mounted on cart horses and armed with blunderbusses, flails, pitchforks, &c., are horrifying their officer by executing an impromptu charge upon a peaceful farmyard, knocking down old ladies, scattering the poultry, shooting the pigeons, capsizing labourers into wells, and producing an effect of universal confusion and dismay. _December 20, 1794._ _A Visit to the Uncle._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The Uncle, who is a sufferer from gout, is evidently a well-to-do personage; and the attentions of his relatives, who are favouring the sufferer with a visit of condolence, are, it appears, suggested by self-interest. One of the highly considerate relations seems good-naturedly assisting the invalid by making his will, while a pretty young damsel is embarrassing their interesting connection with a tender embrace, and altogether the members of the party are evidently set upon promoting their own prospects with a view to a division of the estate. This print, which is aquatinted by F. Jukes, has been described as Hogarthian in type; it was issued with a companion plate executed under similar auspices, and entitled _A Visit to the Aunt_. [Illustration: A VISIT TO THE UNCLE.] 1794 (?). _Jews at a Luncheon, or a peep into Duke's Place._--Three long-bearded Jews seated at table, on the eve of a feast. The joint is a sucking pig, into which the carver has put knife and fork; the faces of the epicures express the most greedy avidity. The appearance of white wigs above their black locks and goat-like beards gives an unusually grotesque effect to Rowlandson's delineation of the Hebrew race, always marked by the exaggerations of his fantastic humour. 1794. _Luxury and Misery._ Published by S. W. Fores. (See 1786.) _December 25, 1794._ _An Early Lesson of Marching._ Woodward del. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. _December 28, 1794._ _Bad Nexus upon the Stock Exchange._ Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.--A meeting of the various merchants and brokers upon the old Exchange. Sinister information is supposed to have upset the market; the countenances and actions of the various representative pillars of commerce present are expressive of profound depression and distress. The individual oddities of such an assemblage are characteristically dealt with; the grouping is good, and the faces, costumes, and movements of the figures are hit off with the felicity which more particularly belonged to Rowlandson's graver. 1795. 1795. _Harmony--Love._ Republished. (See 1785.) 1795. _Effects of Harmony--Discord._ (See 1785.) [Illustration: A MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES INTRODUCING A PARTNER.] _November 24, 1795._ _A Master of the Ceremonies introducing a Partner._--Bath, 1785. 'Mr. Tynson was unanimously elected for the New Rooms, and Mr. King for the Lower Rooms; they reigned till 1805, when Tynson resigned. Gainsborough painted King; the portrait is now in the Assembly Rooms at Bath.' 1796. 1796. _Sir Alan Gardiner, Covent Garden._--'_Weeds carefully Eradicated and Venomous Reptiles destroyed--By Royal patent. God save the King!_'--This print bears the name of Kingsbury, and it may be considered out of place in a work treating of Rowlandson's productions; as, however, the traces of the latter artist's handiwork are easily distinguishable, while the resemblance the plate offers to the known etchings after Kingsbury are less distinctive, it is probable that the execution, at least, is due to the skill of our caricaturist. Sir Alan Gardiner was elected Member of Parliament for Westminster, June 1796. The naval hero, as represented in the engraving, is dressed in his uniform, supplemented with a gardener's apron; he is reaping the Republican crop with his 'Sickle of Loyalty,' while protesting his patriotism: 'My life and services are ever devoted to my King and country.' Britannia with her buckler is encouraging the admiral, and crowning her gallant son with a laurel wreath--'Go on, Britannia approves, and will protect you!' In the distance is shown Gardiner's ship _The Queen_ with the words, _First of June_, inscribed on her flag. The admiral is slicing off the head of the Whigs; Fox is declaring: 'I was always a staunch friend to the crops and _sansculottes_, but this damned crop is quite unexpected.' John Horne Tooke, represented as a reptile, is being swept up by the rake of the Fiend in person; he is crying, 'Now will no prospering virtue gall my jaundiced eye, nor people fostered by a beloved sovereign and defended by the wisdom of his counsellors. To anarchy and confusion I will blow my _Horne_, and wallow in everything that's damnable!' The Evil One has already secured the head of Thelwall in his clutches--'This will not _Tell well_.' Hardy is groaning, 'I was always Fool-_Hardy_.' The Devil is congratulating the captured Horne Tooke--'Long looked for come at last, and welcome, thou staunch friend and faithful servant, enter thou into the hot bed prepared for thee!' We find a drawing by Rowlandson dated November, 1796, caricaturing the figures of three very eminent personages in conference, the Lord Chamberlain (Lord Salisbury), the King of Würtemburg--who had come over to this country on a high matrimonial mission, to marry the Princess Royal--and the Duke of Gloucester, playfully described by the satirists, on account of his slimness, as a 'slice of single Gloucester.' These portraits, which are very spirited, and full of character, are drawn on the back of another sketch, the first suggestions, in Rowlandson's clear and effective outline, for the cartoons of 'John Bull going to the wars' and 'John Bull's victorious return,' the best known version of which was issued by Gillray. (_John Bull's Progress._ Published June 3, 1793.) _May 5, 1796._ _General Complaint._ Published by S. W. Fores.--The credit of this invention is due to Isaac Cruikshank, the father of the great caricaturist, but Rowlandson certainly had a hand in the execution of one version. The print represents a dissatisfied hero, whose dolorous portrait is described by the title; his head occupies the major part of his trunk, and he is not in that respect unlike the figurative impersonations of the potent and universally familiar _Nobody_. In one hand he is holding out his empty purse; in the other is the _London Gazette_; one sheet is filled with _Bankruptcies_, and the rest is devoted to fresh unpopular exactions to meet the requirements of the Budget. The people were generally weary of the war, and dissatisfied with the high prices and the decline of commerce brought in its wake. The ministers in power were not liked, and the generals, officers, and those who had the conduct of military affairs, were regarded with undisguised distrust; suspicions and grumblings against the administration were rife and outspoken, and in short the conduct of affairs was pretty unanimously voted disastrous for England, and discouraging as to her future. There was, according to the critics and satirists, but one popular headpiece, and he was easily to be recognised as _General Complaint_. Don't tell me of Generals rais'd from mere boys, Though, believe me, I mean not their laurels to taint; But the General sure that will make the most noise-- If the war still goes on--will be GENERAL COMPLAINT! 1796. _Love._ _June 15, 1796._ _A Brace of Public Guardians--A Court of Justice--A Watchman._ _June 15, 1796._ _The Detection._ Designed by H. Wigstead. Executed by T. Rowlandson. Published by S. W. Fores. The credit of having executed the following engravings from the designs of an amateur has been assigned to Rowlandson; we are not satisfied that the plates are entirely due to his hand, but it seems likely that he has had some share in the work, at least as far as the frontispieces are concerned. _An accurate and impartial Narrative of the War._--By an officer in the Guards. In two volumes, containing a Poetical Sketch of the Campaign of 1793. Also a similar sketch of the Campaign of 1794. To which is added a Narrative of the Retreat of 1795, memorable for its miseries, with copious notes throughout. Embellished with engravings taken from drawings made on the spot, descriptive of the different scenes introduced in the poem. 'Per varias casûs, per tot discrimina rerum.'--VIRG. London: Published by Cadell and Davies, Strand. _Illustrations._ VOLUME I. An Austrian Foot Soldier. (Hungarian battalion.) Favourite Amusement at Head-quarters. Council of war interrupted. VOLUME II. An Austrian Foot Soldier. (Back figure.) How to throw an army into confusion. Perils by Sea. 1797. _January 1, 1797._ _Spiritual Lovers._ Published by Hooper and Wigstead, 12 High Holborn. 1797. _A Theatrical Candidate._ (_Vide Kelley's Memoirs._)--Sheridan, in his managerial chair, is seated before his business table, on which is spread a long and discouraging statement, setting forth those bugbears of 'Sherry's' tranquillity--a list of 'unpaid salaries,' 'proprietor's demands,' 'Chancery proceedings,' and other applications for money. Letters from authors: _Sir, do you ever mean to pay me for my Tragedy? &c._ Beneath the sly manager's seat is perceived, 'pit money,' 'renter's shares,' and his own particular _Art of Humbug_. A most unpresentable candidate for dramatic honours is standing confronting the great man; according to a placard on the wall, this quotation from _Hamlet_ is applied to the ungainly applicant, 'Oh, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise--and that highly (not to speak it profanely)--that neither having the accent of Christian, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well: they imitated humanity so abominably.' "A candidate for the stage lately applied to the manager of Drury Lane Theatre for an engagement. After he had exhibited specimens of his various talents, the following dialogue took place:--'Sir, you stutter;' 'So did Mrs. Inchbald.' 'You are lame of a leg;' 'So was Toote.' 'You are knock-kneed;' 'So is Wroughton.' 'You have a d----d ugly face;' 'So had Weston.' 'You are very short;' 'So was Garrick.' 'You squint abominably;' 'So does Lewis.' 'You are a mere monotonous mannerist;' 'So is Kemble.' 'You are but a miserable copy of Kemble;' 'So is Barrymore.' 'You have a perpetual whine;' 'So has Pope.' 'In comedy you are quite a buffoon;' 'So is Bannister.' 'You sing as ill as you act;' 'So does Kelly.' 'But you have all those defects combined;' 'So much the more singular.'" _August 1, 1797._ _Feyge Dam, with part of the Fish Market at Amsterdam._ Rowlandson del., Wright and Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.--A large and important plate presenting boats, canals, and the quaint buildings; the appearance of these edifices, a hundred years ago, differed but slightly from their present aspects; the view is enlivened with crowds of Dutchmen, Jews, vrows, &c., variously occupied; all the humours and activities of the scene have been seized and improved on by the artist with his characteristic vigour and animation. The architectural portions of Rowlandson's Dutch and Flemish views are worked out with care and attention, and with an easy skill, strongly suggesting Prout's studies from similar picturesque materials. _Stadthouse, Amsterdam._ Rowlandson del., Wright and Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _Place de Mer. Antwerp._ Rowlandson del., Wright and Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. 'From the Lion d'Or at Antwerp,' writes Angelo in his _Reminiscences_, 'I rambled about the town; the next day I saw the grand church, where the curious representation of Purgatory is exhibited, and the Place de Mer, which, as well as the view of the Stadthouse at Amsterdam, has been so accurately designed by Rowlandson (published by Ackermann) when on a tour in Holland with Mr. Mitchell, late partner in Hodsoll's (the banker's) house.' 1797. _Dutch Merchants, sketched at Amsterdam._ _August 1797._ _Tiens bien ton Bonnet, et toi, defends ta Queue. Rollandson inv._ P. W. Tomkins sculp.--The plate which bears this title is somewhat of an enigma, especially as regards the orthography of the artist's name, which must have been generally familiar in 1797. The style of engraving, more pretty than powerful, a combination of delicate line and stipple, removes it still further from the recognised characteristics of Rowlandson's works; and the extreme finish and smallness of the method employed have produced a somewhat hard and laboured result, such as one does not expect to find in engravings by or after this artist. The subject is revolutionary; an aristocrat, one of the _jeunesse dorée_ order, and one of the mob, a _bonnet rouge_, are in active conflict. The two estates have come into collision; the representative of social refinement is tall, elegant, well-favoured, and scrupulously attired, in the advanced fashion of the hour; his opponent is shambling, misshapen, uncombed, wretchedly clad, and with his ragged shirt open at the front and exposing his chest. The hero of the curled and scented locks has had the temerity to seize the red bonnet of Liberty, which is the only pretension to finery indulged in by the ruffian; in return, the strong hand of the latter is entwined in the clubbed tail of the dandy, and a significant warning is given him to take off that cherished appendage--shaving a _queue_ and cutting off a head by Mère Guillotine, the barber of the aristocrats, being sometimes synonymous terms during the reign of the Jacobins. It was in the spring of this year (1797) that a duty was proposed in England on hats, an impost the people avoided by wearing caps: the satirists intimated the danger that similar taxes would end in driving John Bull to adopt the republican habits of our neighbours, and, among other allusions, Gillray published a plate (April 5th, 1797) under the title of _Le Bonnet Rouge, or John Bull evading the Hat Tax_, in which the national prototype is shown trying on the famous red bonnet of the Jacobin section. 1797. _Cupid's Magic Lanthorn._--Rowlandson, engraved after Woodward. _Waggon and Horses_ outside 'The Feathers,' published by Laurie and Whittle (see 1787), republished 1803. 1798. _January 12, 1798._ _The Dinner._ Published by J. Harris, Sweeting's Alley, Cornhill, and 8 Broad Street.--This plate forms one of a series of important size (21 × 17) executed by Rowlandson in a bold and spirited manner; the plate is dated 1787, and was issued in 1798. The set, it is certain, was deservedly popular in those famous fox-hunting days, and doubtless the five best known subjects have graced the walls of many fine mansions, the owners of which inclined to the sports of the chase; indeed, this hunting series may be found in grand old country houses, much prized, and preserved to the present day, although too frequently the prints are found discoloured by time from the effects of having been varnished. The _Hunt Dinner_ pictures the wind-up of a successful day's sport. The table has been cleared, punch bowls are introduced, the run has been recorded and canvassed, and the venerable ancestral hall, hung with the armour of an earlier generation of the occupant's progenitors, is ringing with the sounds of hilarity. The young squire, a man of mettle, has mounted a chair in front of the portrait of his sire, who it seems was a Nimrod in his day: field sports are obviously the family taste; the owner of the estate, standing at the head of the table to pledge a toast, and holding a huge prize cup, in which Reynard's brush is dipped, is waving his cap, and giving a 'View Halloo!' which is inspiring his guests, the bold hunters gathered round his mahogany, who are acknowledging his lead with an enthusiasm and _entraînement_ which correspond to the ardour of their host; the bumpers are lifted on high with reckless hands, and numerous pairs of stentorian lungs are echoing the challenge with boundless goodwill; in some instances the good cheer is a trifle overwhelming, and one hero, though capsized in his chair, is still doing honour, with undiminished rapture, to the toast of the evening: even the privileged hounds are adding their voices to the general hilarity. _January 6, 1798._ _Comforts of Bath._ Published by S. W. Fores, Piccadilly. THE NEW BATH GUIDE; _OR MEMOIRS OF THE BLUNDERHEAD FAMILY_. IN A SERIES OF POETICAL EPISTLES BY CHRISTOPHER ANSTEY, ESQ. I'll hasten, O Bath, to thy springs, Thy seats of the wealthy and gay, Where the hungry are fed with good things, And the rich are sent empty away. I'm certain none of Hogarth's sketches E'er formed a set of stranger wretches. [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. I.] _Plate I._ We all are a wonderful distance from home! Two hundred and sixty long miles are we come! 'Tis a plaguy long way! but I ne'er can repine, As my stomach is weak and my spirits decline: For the people cry here, be whatever your case, You are sure to get well if you come to this place. As we all came for health (as a body may say), I sent for the doctor the very next day; And the doctor was pleased, though so short was the warning, To come to our lodging betimes in the morning: He looked very thoughtful and grave, to be sure, And I said to myself, There's no hopes of a cure! But I thought I should faint when I saw him, dear Mother, Feel my pulse with one hand, and a watch in the other: No token of death that is heard in the night Could ever have put me so much in a fright: Thinks I, 'tis all over, my sentence is past, And now he is counting how long I may last. * * * * * And so, as I grew every day worse and worse, The doctor advised me to send for a nurse. And the nurse was so willing my health to restore, She begged me to send for a few doctors more; For when any difficult work's to be done, Many heads can despatch it much sooner than one; And I find there are doctors enough at this place, If you want to consult in a dangerous case! [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. II.] _Plate II._ Why, Peter's a critic--with true Attic salt Can damn the performers, can hiss, and find fault, And tell when we ought to express approbation, By thumping, and clapping, and vociferation; But Jack Dilettante despises the play'rs-- To concerts and musical parties repairs, With benefit-tickets his pockets he fills, Like a mountebank doctor distributes his bills; And thus his importance and interest shows, By conferring his favours wherever he goes; He's extremely polite both to me and my cousin, For he often desires us to take off a dozen; He has taste, without doubt, and a delicate ear, No vile _oratorios_ ever could bear; But talks of the _op'ras_ and his _signora_, Cries _Bravo, benissimo, bravo, encora!_ And oft is so kind as to thrust in a note While old Lady Cuckow is straining her throat, Or little Miss Wren, who's an excellent singer; Then he points to the notes with a ring on his finger, And shows her the crotchet, the quaver, and bar, All the time that she warbles and plays the guitar; Yet I think, though she's at it from morning till noon, The queer little thingumbob's never in tune. [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. III.] _Plate III._ * * * * * One thing, though I wonder at much, I confess, is The appearance they make in their different dresses; For, indeed, they look very much like apparitions When they come in the morning to hear the musicians; And some I am apt to mistake, at first sight, For the mothers of those I have seen over night. It shocks me to see them look paler than ashes, And as dead in the eye as the busto of Nash is, Who the evening before were so blooming and plump. I'm grieved to the heart when I go to the pump; For I take every morning a sup of the water, Just to hear what is passing and see what they're a'ter; For I'm told the discov'ries of persons refined Are better than books for improving the mind. But a great deal of judgment's required in the skimming The polite conversation of sensible women, For they come to the pump, as before I was saying, And talk all at once while the music is playing! 'Your servant, Miss Fitchet.' 'Good morning, Miss Stote.' 'My dear Lady Riggledum, how is your throat? Your ladyship knows that I sent you a scrawl But I hear that your ladyship went to the ball.' 'Oh, Fitchet, don't ask me--good heavens, preserve---- I wish there were no such a thing as a nerve; Half dead all the night, I protest and declare---- My dear little Fitchet, who dresses your hair? You'll come to the rooms--all the world will be there. Sir Toby Mac Negus is going to settle His tea-drinking night with Sir Philip O'Kettle: I hear that they both have appointed the same; The majority think that Sir Philip's to blame; I hope they won't quarrel, they're both in a flame: Sir Toby Mac Negus much spirit has got, And Sir Philip O'Kettle is apt to be hot.' 'Have you read the "Bath Guide," that ridiculous poem? What a scurrilous author! Does nobody know him?' 'You know I'm engaged, my dear creature, with you And Mrs. Pantickle this morning at loo; Poor thing! tho' she hobbled last night to the ball, To-day she's so lame that she hardly can crawl-- Major Lignum has trod on the first joint of her toe;-- That thing they played last was a charming concerto, I don't recollect I have heard it before; The minuet's good, but the jig I adore; Pray speak to Sir Toby to cry out _encore_.' _Plate IV._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. IV.] Jen declar'd she was shocked that so many should come To be doctored to death such a distance from home, At a place where they tell you that water alone Can cure all distempers that ever were known. But, what is the pleasantest part of the story, Jen has ordered for dinner a piper and dory; For to-day Captain Cormorant's coming to dine, That worthy acquaintance of Jenny's and mine. 'Tis a shame to the army that men of such spirit Should never obtain the reward of their merit; And after so many hardships and dangers incurred, He himself thinks he ought to be better preferred. And Roger, or, what is his name? Nicodemus, Appears full as kind, and as much to esteem us; Our Prudence declares he's an excellent preacher, And by night and by day he is so good to teach her; I told you before that he's often so kind To go out a riding with Prudence behind, So frequently dines here without any pressing-- And now to the fish he is giving his blessing; And as that is the case, though I've taken a griper, I'll venture to peck at the dory and piper. _Plate V._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. V.] But my cousin Jenny's as fresh as a rose, And the Captain attends her wherever she goes. The Captain's a worthy good sort of a man, For he calls in upon us whenever he can, And often a dinner or supper he takes here, And Jenny and he talk of Milton and Shakspeare; For the life of me now I can't think of his name, But we all got acquainted as soon as we came. _Plate VI._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. VI.] But come, Calliope, and say How pleasure wastes the various day: Wheresoever be thy path, Tell, O tell, the joys of Bath. Every morning, every night, Gayest scenes of fresh delight. O ye guardian spirits fair, All who make true love your care, May I oft my Romeo meet, Oft enjoy his converse sweet; Lo! where all the jocund throng From the pump-room hastes along, See with joy my Romeo comes! He conducts me to the Rooms; There he whispers, not unseen, Tender tales behind the screen; While his eyes are fixed on mine, See each nymph with envy pine. O the charming parties made! Some to walk the South Parade, Some to Lincomb's shady groves, Or to Simpson's proud alcoves; Some to chapel trip away, Then take places for the play; Or to the painter's we repair, Meet Sir Peregrine Hatchet there, Pleased the artist's skill to trace In his dear Miss Gorgon's face. Happy pair! who fixed as fate For the sweet connubial state, Smile in canvas _tête-à-tête_! _Plate VII._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. VII.] 'And if you've a mind for a frolic, i' faith, I'll just step and see you jump into the bath.' Thinks I to myself, they are after some fun, And I'll see what they're doing, as sure as a gun: Oh! 'twas pretty to see them all put on their flannels, And then take the water like so many spaniels; And though all the while it grew hotter and hotter, They swam just as if they were hunting an otter. 'Twas a glorious sight to behold the fair sex All wading with gentlemen up to their necks, And view them so prettily tumble and sprawl In a great smoking kettle as big as our hall; And to-day many persons of rank and condition Were boil'd by command of an able physician. * * * * * You cannot conceive what a number of ladies Were stewed in the water the same as our maid is: So Tabby, you see, had the honour of washing With folks of distinction and very high fashion; But in spite of good company, poor little soul, She shook both her ears like a mouse in a bowl. But what is surprising, no mortal e'er view'd Any one of the physical gentlemen stew'd; Since the day that King Bladud first found out these bogs, And thought them so good for himself and his hogs, Not one of the faculty ever has try'd These excellent waters to cure his own hide; Tho' many a skilful and learned physician, With candour, good sense, and profound erudition, Obliges the world with the fruits of his brain, Their nature and hidden effects to explain. _Plate VIII._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. VIII.] Our trade is encouraged as much, if not more, By the tender soft sex I shall ever adore; But their husbands, those brutes, have been known to complain, And swear they will never set foot here again. Ye wretches ingrate! To find fault with your wives, The comfort, the solace, and joy of your lives; Oh! that women, whose price is so far above rubies, Should fall to the lot of such ignorant boobies! Doesn't Solomon speak of such women with rapture, In verse the eleventh and thirty-first chapter? And surely that wise King of Israel knew What belonged to a woman much better than you! He says, 'If you find out a virtuous wife, She will do a man good all the days of her life; She deals like a merchant, she sitteth up late.' And you'll find it is written in verse twenty-eight, Her husband is sure to be known at the gate: He never hath need or occasion for spoil, When his wife is much better employ'd all the while; She seeketh fine wool, and fine linen she buys, And is clothed in purple and scarlet likewise. Now, pray, don't your wives do the very same thing, And follow th' advice of that worthy old king? Do they spare for expenses themselves in adorning? Don't they go about buying fine things all the morning? And at cards all the night take the trouble to play, To get back the money they spent in the day? But these to their husbands more profit can yield, And are much like a lily that grows in the field; They toil not, indeed, nor, indeed, do they spin, Yet they never are idle when once they begin, But are very intent on increasing their store, And always keep shuffling and cutting for more. Industrious creatures! that make it a rule To secure half the fish, while they _manage_ the pool; Methinks I should like to excel in a trade By which such a number their fortunes have made. I've heard of a wise, philosophical Jew, That shuffles the cards in a manner that's new; One Jonas, I think; and could wish for the future To have that illustrious sage for my tutor; And the Captain, whose kindness I ne'er can forget, Will teach me a game that he calls _lansquenet_. _Plate IX._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. IX.] SONG, WRITTEN AT MR. GILL'S, AN EMINENT COOK AT BATH. Of all the cooks the world can boast, However great their skill, To bake or fry, to boil or roast, There's none like Master Gill. Sweet rhyming troop, no longer stoop To drink Castalia's rill; Whene'er ye droop O taste the soup That's made by Master Gill. 'Tis this that makes my Chloe's lips Ambrosial sweets distil; For leeks and cabbage oft she sips In soup that's made by Gill. Immortal bards, view here your wit, The labours of your quill, To singe the fowl upon the spit Condemned by Master Gill. My humble verse that fate shall meet, Nor shall I take it ill; But grant, ye gods! that I may eat That fowl, when drest by Gill. These are your true poetic fires That drest this savoury grill; Even while I eat the Muse inspires, And tunes my voice to Gill. When Chloe strikes the vocal lyre, Sweet Lydian measures thrill; But I the gridiron more admire, When tuned by Master Gill. 'Come, take my sage of ancient use,' Cries learned Doctor Hill; 'But what's the sage without the goose?' Replies my Master Gill. He who would fortify his mind, His belly first should fill; Roast beef 'gainst terrors best you'll find; 'The Greeks knew this,' says Gill. Your spirits and your blood to stir, Old Galen gives a pill; But I the forced-meat ball prefer, Prepared by Master Gill. _Plate X._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. X.] What joy at the ball, what delight have I found, By all the bright circle encompassed around! Each moment with transport my bosom felt warm, For what, my dear mother, like beauty can charm! E'en the Goddess of Love, and the Graces, and all Must yield to the beauties I've seen at the ball; For Jove never felt such a joy at his heart, Such a heat as these charming sweet creatures impart. In short, there is something in very fine women, When they meet all together, that's quite overcoming. * * * * * But hark! now they strike the melodious string, The vaulted roof echoes, the mansions all ring; At the sound of the hautboy, the bass, and the fiddle, Sir Boreas Blubber steps forth in the middle. Now why should I mention a hundred or more, Who went the same circle as others before, To a tune that they play'd us a hundred times o'er? And who at the ball on that night did appear, Who danc'd in the van and who limp'd in the rear, What dukes and what drapers, what barbers and peers, What marquises, earls, and what knights of the _shears_, What cook and what countess, what nymphs of the brooms, What mop-sceptred queens came that night to the Rooms. But at what time they heard the horn's echoing bellow, The hautboy's shrill twang, the brisk fiddle, the mellow Bassoon, and the sweet grumbling violoncello. At what time they heard the men puff and belabour With mouth, stick, and fist the gay pipe and the tabour, At once they did scuttle, did flutter and run, And take wing like wild-geese alarm'd with a gun, In a moment came bustling and rustling between one; Some coupled like rabbits, a fat and a lean one, Some pranc'd up before, some did backward rebound, While some more in earnest, with looks more profound, And sweat-bedew'd foretops, did lard the lean ground; But others more neat on the pastern arose, Like the figure of Pan, whom you've seen, I suppose, Just saluting the turf with the tips of his toes; And as nothing, I think, can more please and engage Than a contrast of stature, complexion, and age, Miss CURD with a partner as black as Omiah, KITTY TIT shook her heels with old Doctor GOLIAH, And little JOHN CROP, like a pony just nick't, With long DOLLY LOADERHEAD scamper'd and kick't. As for MADGE, tho' young SQUIRT had been promised the honour, BILLY DASHER stept forth and at once seized upon her; While with flames that keen jealousy's rage did improve, Poor SQUIRT felt the heart rending passion of love. _Plate XI._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. XI.] For persons of taste and true spirit, I find, Are fond of attracting the eyes of mankind: What numbers one sees, who, for that very reason, Come to make such a figure at Bath ev'ry season! 'Tis this that provokes Mrs. Shenkin Ap-Leek To dine at the ord'nary twice in a week, Though at home she might eat a good dinner in comfort, Nor pay such a cursed extravagant sum for't; But then her acquaintance would never have known Mrs. Shenkin Ap-Leek had acquired the _bon ton_; Ne'er show how in taste the Ap-Leeks can excel The Duchess of Truffles and Lady Morell; Had ne'er been ador'd by Sir Pye Macaroni, And Count Vermicelli, his intimate crony; Both men of such _taste_, their opinions are taken From an ortolan down to a rasher of bacon. * * * * * The company made a most brilliant appearance, And ate bread and butter with great perseverance All the chocalate, too, that my lord set before 'em, The ladies despatched with the utmost decorum. The peer was quite ravished, while close to his side Sat Lady Bunbutter, in beautiful pride! Oft turning his eyes, he with rapture surveyed All the powerful charms she so nobly displayed. Oh had I a voice that was stronger than steel, With twice fifty tongues to express what I feel, And as many good mouths, yet I never could utter All the speeches my Lord made to Lady Bunbutter! So polite all the time that he ne'er touched a bit, While she ate up his rolls and applauded his wit: For they tell me that men of _true taste_, when they treat, Should talk a great deal, but they never should eat; I freely will own, I the muffins preferred To all the genteel conversation I heard. _Plate XII._ [Illustration: COMFORTS OF BATH. XII.] I never as yet could the reason explain, Why we all sallied forth in the wind and the rain; For sure such confusion was never yet known; Here a cap and a hat, there a cardinal blown! * * * * * How the Misses did huddle, and scuddle, and run! One would think to be wet must be very good fun; For by waggling their tails, they all seemed to take pains To moisten their pinions, like ducks when it rains. I saw, all at once, a prodigious great throng Come bustling, and rustling, and jostling along; As home we came--'tis with sorrow you'll hear What a dreadful disaster attended the peer. _April 1, 1798._ _Views of London._ No. 3.--Entrance of Tottenham Court Road Turnpike, with a view of St. James's Chapel. Rowlandson delin., Schultz sculp. Published April 1, 1798, Ackermann's Gallery, Strand. _April 1, 1798._ _Views of London._ No. 4.--Entrance of Oxford Street or Tyburn Turnpike, with a view of Park Lane. Rowlandson delin., Schultz sculp. Published April 1, 1798, Ackermann's Gallery, Strand. _June 1, 1798._ _Views of London._ No. 5.--Entrance from Mile End or Whitechapel Turnpike. Rowlandson delin., Schultz sculp. Published June 1, 1798. Ackermann's Gallery, Strand. _June 1, 1798._ _Views of London._ No. 6.--Entrance from Hackney or Cambridge Heath Turnpike, with a distant view of St. Paul's. Rowlandson delin., Schultz sculp. Published June 1, 1798. Ackermann's Gallery, Strand. _May 1, 1798._ _He won't be a Soldier._ Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _May 1, 1798._ _She will be a Soldier._ Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. 1798. _An extraordinary scene on the road from London to Portsmouth, or an instance of unexampled speed used by a body of Guards, consisting of 1,920 rank and file, besides officers; who on June 10, 1798, left London in the morning, and actually began to embark for Ireland at Portsmouth at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, having travelled seventy-four miles in ten hours._ Rowlandson del., Schultz sculpt. _July 18, 1798._ _Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster, Reviewed by His Majesty on Wimbledon Common._ July 5, 1798. _August 1, 1798._ _Soldiers Recruiting, 1._ Rowlandson del., Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 1, 1798._ _The Cottage Door._ Rowlandson del., Schultz sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 1, 1798._ _Private Drilling, 5._ Rowlandson del., Schultz sculpt. Published by R. Ackermann. _September 1, 1798._ _The Consequence of not Shifting the Leg._ Published by H. Angelo, Curzon Street, Mayfair. [Illustration: THE CONSEQUENCE OF NOT SHIFTING THE LEG.] _September 1, 1798._ _The Advantage of Shifting the Leg._ Published by H. Angelo, Curzon Street, Mayfair. _October 15, 1798._ _The glorious victory obtained over the French fleet off the Nile on August 1, 1798, by the gallant Admiral Lord Nelson of the Nile._--Showing the distressed situation of the French frigate _La Serieuse_, of 36 guns and 250 men, which, after having been dismasted, sank. _L'Orient_ of 120 guns, and 1,010 men, commanded by the French Admiral Brueys, is seen in the background blowing up, by which she considerably damaged _The Majestic_, of 74 guns, 590 men, commanded by Captain Westcott, who fell early in the action. _The Majestic was_, after his death, fought with the utmost bravery by her first lieutenant, Mr. Cuthbert, during the remainder of the action. London: published October 15, 1798, at Ackermann's Gallery, 101 Strand. Rowlandson del. _October 20, 1798._ _Admiral Nelson recruiting with his brave tars after the glorious Battle of the Nile._ Rowlandson del. and sculp. Published at Ackermann's Gallery, Strand.--The gallant admiral and his chosen captains are raised above the crowd on deck; they are, like true British tars of the old school, encouraging the _esprit de corps_ which the hero perfectly understood, since he was able, so far as the sea-lions who served under him were concerned, to cultivate it to such unmeasurable advantage for the honour of his country. The brave tars, of all denominations, are thoroughly enjoying themselves after their own hearts, while commemorating the immortal victory of Aboukir Bay, and with each successive bumper are toasting their idol, who is set in their midst, and drinking success and glory to the navy of Old England, and confusion to her enemies--patriotic sentiments to which one and all were prepared to give practical effect in the hour of action. Dammy Jack, what a gig, what a true British whim, Let the fiddles strike up on the main: What seaman would care for an eye or a limb To fight o'er the battle again? Put the bumpers about and be gay, To hear how our doxies will smile. Here's to Nelson for ever, huzza, And King George on the banks of the Nile. See their tricolor'd rags how they're doft, To show that we're lords of the sea, While the standard of England is flying aloft, Come, my lads, let us cheer it with three! [Illustration: THE ADVANTAGE OF SHIFTING THE LEG.] 1798. _A Mahomedan Paradise._--A Turk embracing an elegantly dressed and highly presentable female. _November 12, 1798._ _High Fun for John Bull, or the Republicans put to their last shift._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The victory gained by Nelson at Aboukir Bay, over the combined fleets, disconcerted the French enthusiasts and restored confidence at home; it was recognised that while English admirals could sweep their enemies from the seas, neither the dangers of invasion, nor the difficulties of contending with France, need be ranked of much consequence. In the print, John Bull is enjoying the _High Fun_ of setting his opponents to equip fresh fleets, in order that his sailors may carry them off captive as trophies. A _Dutch Oven_ is serving as the bakery, Mynheer is pushing in a fresh batch of war frigates; 'Donder and Blaxan to dis fraternisation, instead of smoking mine pipes, and sacking de gold, dis French broders make me build ships, dat Mynheer Jan Bull may have the fun to take dem.' The Spaniard, with a tray of big guns, is faring no better under fraternisation. 'How! that Nelson wit one arm and eye can take our ships by dozens, then vat shall we do against the autres, wid two arms and eyes? day will have two dozen at a time.' The Frenchmen are excited over their prospects; the head baker has a fine batch ready for the oven: 'Sacredieu, Citoyens, make a haste wit one autre fleet, den we will show you how to make one grande Invasion;' the journeyman is working at his kneading tub, which contains such ingredients for fresh fleets as, _Ruination, Botheration, Confiscation, Requisition, Plunderation, Limitation, Execution, Constitution, Fraternisation, Naturalisation, Expedition, Abolition, Cut-throatation, and Damnation_. The assistant is not hopeful: 'By Gat, well you may talk, make haste, when that English Nelson take our ships by the douzaine!' John Bull, whip in hand, is laughing with satisfaction: 'What! you could not find that out before, you stupid dupes, but since you began the fun you shall keep on--so work away, dam ye, else Jack Tar will soon be idle.' Jack Tar is seen hopping off with a full load of ships; his spirits are excellent: 'Push on, keep moving, I'll soon come for another cargo; Old England for ever, huzza!' 1798. _The Discovery._ Republished 1800, 1808-9, &c.--A bed-chamber is the scene of the discovery; a young couple have been surprised by a corpulent old gentleman, who is threatening a kneeling and simple-looking youth with a red-hot poker; the detected swain, who has been disclosed in a cupboard, is entreating forgiveness with clasped hands, and the lady is dissolved in tears. Published 1798. Lately published by William Wigstead, 40 Charing Cross. Printed September, 1799. Published 1798. _Annals of Horsemanship.--Containing accounts of accidental experiments, and experimental accidents, both successful and unsuccessful, communicated by various correspondents to Geoffrey Gambado, Esq._ Illustrated with seventeen copper plates. Printed on a super-royal paper. Price in boards, 15_s._ 3_d._ Published 1798. _The Academy of Grown Horsemen.--Containing complete instructions for walking, trotting, cantering, galloping, stumbling, and tumbling._ Printed on a super-royal paper, and illustrated with twelve copper plates. Price in boards, 15_s._ 3_d._ Published 1798. _Love in Caricature._ On eleven plates, etched by Rowlandson; with a humorous frontispiece. The plates consist of--Spiritual Lovers, Aged Lovers, Sympathetic Lovers, Quarrelsome Lovers, Duke's Place Lovers, Avaricious Lovers, Country Lovers, Forgiving Lovers, Bashful Lovers, Platonic Lovers, and Drunken Lovers. Published in two numbers, 5_s._ each. 1799. _January 1, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 1. Buy a Trap, a Rat-Trap, buy my Trap._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The vendor of rat-traps is pausing before a shop decorated with such live stock as a rabbit in a hutch, and a jackdaw in a cage; he is offering his traps to a spectacled old gentleman, who is considering his ware with curiosity. The rats in a trap, carried on the trap-seller's arm, are exciting the interest of a dog. [Illustration: CRIES OF LONDON. NO. 1, 'BUY A TRAP, A RAT TRAP, BUY MY TRAP.'] _January 1, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 2. Buy my Goose, my Fat Goose._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A fat countrified-looking dealer is offering some fine fat geese for sale at the door of an apothecary, who, with his wife, is examining the birds with unnecessary closeness. _February 20, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 3. Last Dying Speech and Confession._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A street ballad singer, of the St. Giles' order, is crying the last speech of 'the unfortunate malefactors who were executed this morning:' a common enough announcement when the extreme punishment of hanging visited small offences, and executions were of more frequent occurrence. That the fear of capital punishment did not act as a corrective to theft is illustrated in the background of the print, where a mere infant is drawn in the act of picking the pocket of a passing pedestrian. _February 20, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 4. Do you want any brick-dust?_ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--From this plate it seems that brick-dust, in the artist's days, was sold like sand. A patient donkey is saddled with an enormous pannier of brick-dust, and the vendor is pouring the contents of a measure into a bowl, held at the door of a highly respectable residence, by a pretty maid, to whose personal captivations the attentions of the brick-dust dealer are most particularly addressed. _March 1, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 5. Water-cresses, come buy my Water-cresses._ An old shylock-like person is knocking at a door in Portland Street (Mrs. Burke's), and is solicited to buy water-cresses by a neat maiden with a pretty face and a tall shapely form; the old reprobate is leering at the water-cress girl, and is disregarding a further offer of cresses from a more ragged and juvenile seller. A pair of highly-coloured damsels, redundant in charms and florid finery, are peering out of an upper window at the aged visitor. [Illustration: CRIES OF LONDON. NO. 5, 'WATER-CRESSES, COME BUY MY WATER-CRESSES.'] 1799. _Cries of London. No. 6. All a-growing, a-growing; here's flowers for your gardens._--A smart young gardener, with a substantial cart, drawn by a donkey, has a handsome selection of various evergreens and flowers for sale; he is standing at the door of a mansion, where a lady and little girl are choosing from his stock of geraniums in pots. _May 4, 1799._ _Cries of London. No. 8. Hot cross buns, two a penny buns._--A decent woman, wearing a white apron, and with a cloth over her basket, is supplying a patroness with a plateful of hot cross buns. A pretty woman, in a neat morning dress, is buying buns, and her children by her side are tasting the same without any loss of time. Outside a church, in the background, is a stout dignitary, with flowing gown, sleeves, and full wig, who is sweeping away from an appeal for charity addressed to him by a beggar woman and her offspring. _February 1, 1799._ _A Charm for a Democracy, Reviewed, Analysed, and Destroyed, January 1, 1799, to the confusion of its Affiliated Friends._ Published for the _Anti-Jacobin Review_, by T. Whittle, Peterborough Court, Fleet Street.--The Tory party at the beginning of 1799 (the parliamentary session had opened at the end of November 1788) endeavoured to stifle the Opposition by raising outcries against sedition, and by denouncing publications of a revolutionary tendency, with which they pretended to implicate the Whigs. On the strength of certain alarmist tracts, extraordinary measures were taken to restrain the liberty of the press, and a few months later, in July, the Ministry went so far as to put into effect the extreme measure of subjecting printing presses to a licence. The organs of the Tories, exulting in the discomfiture of their opponents, were continually urging increased and severer political persecutions, while they pretended that the members of the Opposition were, in despair of succeeding in preserving their party by fair means, identifying themselves with the more treasonable writers, and were laying secret trains for the destruction of the Constitution. The King's Bench, Newgate, and Coldbath Fields began to be crowded with political prisoners, the last-mentioned receiving the popular nickname of _the Bastille_. The _Anti-Jacobin Review_ was, as usual, peculiarly smart at the expense of the malcontents, and Rowlandson's assistance was enlisted to prepare a cartoon which, it was supposed, would expose the Whigs in their true colours, and hold up the abettors of sedition to the execration of all loyal subjects. There are four elements displayed in this general view of the fancied emergency: the supernatural department, headed by the arch-fiend in person; the Radical pamphleteers and so-called workers of treason; the prominent members of the disconcerted Opposition and their followers; and the King and his ministers displayed, as Olympians, in the clouds. The Infernal Influence is superintending the preparation of the charm, which Horne Tooke and his friends, as the witches in Macbeth, are working at a boiling cauldron; the nature of the component parts of the conjuration are thus set forth:-- Eye of STRAW and toe of CADE, TYLER'S bow, KOSCIUSKO'S blade, RUSSELL'S liver, tongue of cur, NORFOLK'S boldness, FOX'S fur; Add thereto a tiger's cauldron, For the ingredients of our cauldron! [Illustration: A CHARM FOR A DEMOCRACY, REVIEWED, ANALYSED, AND DESTROYED, JANUARY 1ST, 1799, TO THE CONFUSION OF ITS AFFILIATED FRIENDS.] One of Horne Tooke's colleagues is working the incantation from a breviary of his own, 'Lying, False Swearing, &c.,' and is flourishing a witch's besom, 'Thrice the Gallic wolves have bayed!' Another of the weird sisterhood is stirring the unholy mixture, crying: 'Thrice! and twice King's Heads have fallen!' Horne Tooke is attending to the fuel department; he is muttering: ''Tis time, 'tis time, 'tis time!' The witches' familiars are whirling above their heads, and in the midst of the flames from the cauldron, in the shape of wild cats, with wings; a flying monkey, with 'Voltaire' on his collar; a tiger with vulture wings, marked Robespierre; and Dr. Price's little dog, which is even more remarkable than the animal associated with the early magicians, are the ministering imps. The fiend, with his pitch-fork, and attended by dragons, serpents, Cerberus, and other terrific monsters of an imaginative construction, suggestive of Callot's grotesques, is directing as head cook the Democratic philter-workers to Pour in streams of Regal Blood, Then the charm is firm and good. The inflammable materials, which are piled up to make the pot boil, and fanned into flames by a diabolical news-boy, from the _Courier_, consist of such combustibles as _O'Connor's Manifesto_; _Oakley's Pyrology_; _Belsham's History_; _Rights of Nature_; _Quigley's Dying Speech_; _Freud's Atheism_; _Whig Club_; _Universal Equality_; _Darwin's topsey-turvey Plants and Animals' Destruction_; _Sedition_; _French Freedom_; _Political Liberty_; _Duty of Insurrection_; _Equality_; _Fraud_; _Sophisms_; _Blasphemy_; _Heresy_; _Deism_, together with such fiery sentiments as _Kings can do no good_; _Joel Barlow_; _Resistance is Prudence_; _The Vipers of Monarchy and Aristocracy will soon be strangled by the infant Democracy_; _Kings are Servants_, _&c._; with the _Analytical Review_, a rival publication, thrown in as _Fallen never to rise again_. The Duke of Bedford is at the head of the Opposition; the members seem to fare badly between the two extremes of Pittites and Radicals, the leader is demanding: 'Where are they! Gone. Pocketed the Church and Poorlands! The Tythes next!' The Duke of Norfolk is deploring the 'Fallen Sovereignty (of the People). Degraded Counsellor!' having been deprived of some of his offices as a punishment for the famous toast. Lord Derby is equally hopeless: 'Poor Joe is done. No Test, no Corporation Acts.' Fox, who had kept his word and absented himself from the debates, is reduced to a tattered state, and enquires: 'Where can I hide my secluded head?' Erskine, in legal trim, as 'Counsellor Ego,' is deploring: 'Ah, woe is me--poor I!' Tierney is regretting his past activity: 'Would I had never spoke of the licentiousness of the press!' Sir Francis Burdett, who had brought an investigation into the abuses practised on the unfortunates in the New State prison, before the House, a motion founded on his own observations, is enquiring: 'What can I report to my friends at the _Bastille_?' Thelwall, with his lectures under his arm, is 'Off to Monmouthshire;' and the followers of the dispirited 'party' are wandering blindly, lost in the 'Cave of Despair.' Above the clouds is the King as Jupiter, with his supporters; light is being poured down in streams, upon the machinations of the disaffected patriots, from a symbolical source: _Afflavit Deus et Dissipantur_. 'Your Destruction cometh as a whirlwind!' 'Vengeance is ripe!' The monarch is strangling a brace of serpents, and asserting, 'Our enemies are confounded!' One minister is offering congratulations on a 'Great Victory!' while Pitt, behind the Crown, is insinuating an expeditious method of disposing of his adversaries: 'Suspend their bodies.' The Lord Chancellor, careful of the forms of law, is suggesting a more formal mode of procedure: 'Take them to the King's Bench and Coldbath Fields!' _February 10, 1799._ _An Artist Travelling in Wales._ Rowlandson delin., Mercke sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The caricaturist--in company with his friend, Henry Wigstead, himself a bit of an artist, further given to sportive flirtation with the Muses--visited North and South Wales in August 1797, for the purpose of carrying out a picturesque tour, to which the two travellers furnished the accompaniments of descriptive sketches and sketchy descriptions. The journey was undertaken solely as a pleasure trip, and not carried out with the intention of 'making a book.' It seems, however, that the interest which partial friends took in the notes of scenery, as found in Rowlandson's sketch-books, and in the minutes of travel, as jotted down in Wigstead's journal, finally prevailed over the travellers' reluctance to make much of a little; and accordingly, some two years later, the _Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales_ were submitted to the public, in the form of an octavo book, with some additional views by the hands of Pugh, Howitt, &c. (See 1800.) Rowlandson appears both to have enjoyed this excursion, and to have been able to turn his opportunities to good account. He made several characteristic landscape sketches, and the present writer possesses a few drawings, in various stages of progress, which were evidently commenced on the spot. A more Rowlandsonian relic of the tour is preserved in the plate, _An Artist Travelling in Wales_, first published soon after the traveller's return to town. Who the artist so represented may be the writer is not prepared to assert; but, as caricaturists have a well-recognised habit of turning not only the figures of their friends, but their own persons, to satiric usages on occasions, it is suggested that the large and gaunt limner, with his strongly-outlined features, and with his long legs slung across a Welch pony, may offer some points of resemblance to the designer; it is evident that more than once (See _The Chamber of Genius_, April 2, 1812) Rowlandson has burlesqued his own figure, or made himself the hero of equivocal situations, much as artists who have lived in our times have, now and again, delighted to introduce their own features amidst the fictitious personages they have thought proper or have been called upon to introduce. Notably in the cases of Thackeray and Cruickshank, this whimsical _penchant_ is of such frequent occurrence, that the student, curious in tracing out such eccentricities of genius, will be able to discover at least a dozen characteristic and intentional resemblances of those admirable masters scattered over their illustrations, and relating to various periods of their careers. It may be that remembrances of his old master at the Academy, Richard Wilson, who held the office of Librarian when the waggish youth, Rowlandson, was a student at the Academy, floated through the artist's mind in the course of his Welsh peregrinations, and tempted him to combine points of personality peculiar to both. It was not the first time Rowley's pencil had taken liberties with the marked traits of 'Red-nosed Dick,' who died, it must be conceded, some fifteen years before the tour in question. At all events, Peter Pindar, the witty and vituperative, was one of Rowlandson's intimates, and his advice to landscape-painters in general and to his friend and chum, Richard Wilson, in particular, whose talents he had the daring to lavishly acknowledge in the face of a generation which treated the artist with cold neglect because, forsooth, his works were 'not fashionable,' should appropriately be engraved below Rowlandson's unflattering presentation:-- Claude painted in the open air. Therefore to Wales at once repair, Where scenes of true magnificence you'll find; Besides this great advantage--if in debt, You'll have with creditors no _tête-à-tête_; So leave the bull-dog bailiffs all behind, Who hunt you with what noise they may, Must hunt for needles in a stack of hay. A view in Wales is faithfully pictured; the unsophisticated natives are struck with astonishment at the figure of the travelling artist, whose profession they are far from comprehending, and whose paraphernalia excite their wonder. Rain, which is not unknown in the Principality, is wrapping landscape and figures in a moist embrace. The artist's very remarkable umbrella is a poor protection; his hat is limp; for safety his long clay pipe, a luxury difficult to replace, is thrust through a slit in the flap; his lank locks are dripping; the moisture is concentrating, and dropping down his well-defined proboscis. Of course it was necessary, in such an expedition, to bear the baggage and incidental impedimenta. A box contains the artist's larder and wardrobe; his saddle-bags hold the provisions of the hour; beside him swing his tea-kettle and coffee-pot; his goodly sketch-book is slung across his back, much as the observant traveller may have seen canvasses strapped across the shoulders of pedestrian artists during the season, and in the vicinity of Bettews, Conway and the Lluwy in our day. The easel is folded up--and a vastly unwieldy affair it is--on the back of the stumpy pony; brushes, a palette, knife, flasks of oil of goodly proportions, and a palette of extensive dimensions, are attached to the animal's neck; and thus equipped, the man of paint and his rough steed are picking a devious way through the saturating moisture, up and down the steep mountains of the country: a pleasant souvenir of past hardships and discomforts by the way. _February 18, 1799._ _Nautical Characters._ 1. Cabin boy. 2. Sailor. 3. Marine. 4. Cook. 5. Midshipman. 6. Purser. 7. Lieutenant. 8. Captain. 9. Admiral. 10. Captain of Marines. [Illustration: AN IRISH HOWL.] _March 1, 1799._ _An Irish Howl._ Published for the _Anti-Jacobin Review_ by T. Whittle, Peterborough Court, Fleet Street.--The month following, the Irish patriots, and rebels alike, were favoured with a view of their position, which was hardly more encouraging than the pictorial prospect held out for the enlightenment of the Democrats at home. A National Convention is supposed to have been assembled; the members are thrown into consternation; and the table, round which they have been deliberating over the concoction of their organ the _United Irishmen_, is upset. A diabolical visitation is sufficient to account for this confusion. A monstrous representative of the Fiend of Evil, with formidable horns and claws, bearing a pitchfork over his shoulder, and with the French cap of Liberty, labelled _Anarchy_, on his brow, is intruding on the scene, with a masterpiece of his own preparation, setting forth the tender fate which the Irish patriots were likely to meet at the hands of their allies the Jacobins. _Le Tableau Parlant_ affects to portray an 'Irish Stew, a favourite dish for French Palates.' The sons of Erin are, according to the canvas, thrust into a 'Revolutionary Pot,' which is boiling over a fierce fire; certain Jacobin French cooks, wearing the caps of Liberty, are thrusting their betrayed disciples into the seething cauldron, '_Equality_, all to be stewed _en masse_,' while another apostle of Freedom is clapping on the lid: 'Liberty of being stewed!' The Arch-Deceiver, thrusting out a forked tongue, is imparting his instructions: 'Stew it well; it cannot be overdone for you and me!' The United Irishmen are variously affected with despair at the probable end of their plottings. One patriot, intended for Grattan, or O'Connor, is exclaiming, 'My merits with the Republic should have saved me; but I find we must all stew together!' A ragged Reformer is thrown on his back; a bundle of pikes are at his feet; a case of _Radical Reform_. A papist friar is crying: 'By St. Patrick, a complete Catholic emancipation.' Others of the party are crushed. A legal gentleman is moaning in despair: 'So much for Republicanism and glorious independence! No money! No lawyer!' His neighbour cries: 'I now howl in vain; we are all gone to pot!' Another patriot is thinking regretfully of Ireland's proper and natural ally: 'Brother John would not have treated us so! What your own O'Connor, too!' The Map of Ireland is dragged to pieces, and dismantled by flying devils and imps of mischief christened 'Tallien, Barras, Lepaux,' &c. One of the united brethren is turning his eyes on the pitiful end of the Green Isle: 'Poor Erin, how thou'rt torn to pieces by these five harpies!' 1799. _An Etching after Raphael Urbinas._ An example of Rowlandson's powerful renderings of studies after the old masters, executed in a bold and flowing manner.--The nude figure of a man, who has probably been sleeping at the foot of a tree, has suddenly unfolded his cloak and found himself confronted by a hissing serpent, which has raised itself on its tail in readiness to attack the unprepared victim, whose face is made to wear an expression of statuesque horror. A club is on the ground at the feet of the man. _Apollo, Lyra and Daphne._ Frontispiece probably to a book of music.--Apollo, with his crook and shepherd's dog by his side, and with sheep at his feet, is seated at the entrance to a wood. Several musical instruments, bound together with ribands, are hung on the branch of a tree over his head. On the other side of the picture is a nymph in classic guise, evidently captivated with his harmonies; she is resting her hand on the shoulder of a second listening maiden, dressed as a shepherdess. [Illustration: ST. GILES'S COURTSHIP.] _April 10, 1799._ _St. Giles's Courtship._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Here vulgar Nature plays her coarser part, And eyes speak out the language of the heart, While health and vigour swell the youthful vein, To die with rapture, but to live again. _April 10, 1799._ _St. James's Courtship._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1799. _View of a Cathedral Town on Market Day_ (_Great Yarmouth_), Rowlandson del. and sculp. _May 10, 1799._ _Borders for Rooms and Screens._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Woodward delin. Etched by Rowlandson. In twenty-four sheets. Republished May 20 and August 1. _June 20, 1799._ _Connoisseurs._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The interior of a cabinet of choice works of art. On an easel is displayed a florid and somewhat suggestive picture of Venus and Cupid richly framed. An old connoisseur, with a glass to his eye, and his three-cornered hat under his arm, is seated in an easy elbow chair, critically examining the work in question. Three other distinguished _dilettanti_ are peering over his back, and stretching their noses as near as contrivable to the object of their gloating admiration. All these amateurs have evidently called in to view the collection, which includes an example after 'Susanna and the Elders,' and kindred subjects. _August 1, 1799._ _Horse Accomplishments._ Sketch 1. _A Paviour._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 1, 1799._ _Horse Accomplishments._ Sketch 2. _An Astronomer._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 1, 1799._ _Horse Accomplishments._ Sketch 3. _A Civilian._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 1, 1799._ _Horse Accomplishments._ Sketch 4. _A Devotee._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--The rider is somewhat inconvenienced by the eccentricities of his steed. The horse is travelling in a somnolent condition, of which the equestrian seems unconscious, as he is thus soliloquising over the unusual proclivities of his _Rosinante_:--'This is certainly a very devout animal; always on his knees; five times in a mile; constantly worshipping something or other. What is he at now?' _August 1, 1799._ _Waddling Out._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _August 10, 1799._ _Comforts of the City: A Good Speculation._ No. 5. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, August 10, 1799.--A stout citizen is rejoicing over a fortunate investment. _August 10, 1799._ _Comforts of the City: A Bad Speculation._ No. 6. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, August 10, 1799.--In this case the dabbler in novel ventures is looking very blank and disconcerted, on the receipt of the information that his very latest and most ingenious 'spec' does not promise to turn out favourably, according to a communication he holds in his hand:--'I am sorry to inform you that your scheme for manuring London with old wigs will not do.' [Illustration: PROCESSION OF A COUNTRY CORPORATION.] _August 12, 1799._ _Procession of a Country Corporation._ H. Bunbury del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published August 12, 1799, by T. Rowlandson, James's Street, Adelphi.--Bunbury's pencil was never more happily employed than when engaged in perpetuating the comicalities which he noticed in the country; rustic simplicity, the pretensions of inflated noodles, bumptious nobodies, and kindred absurdities, such as are displayed in 'The procession of a Country Corporation,' wherein the Aldermen and Mace-bearers, his worship the Mayor, with his chain, and his dignified deportment, and his following of puffed-up provincial big-wigs are shown filing in solemn state past the pump, the Town-hall, and the stocks, to the Church vestry; the country clodhoppers and honest children of the soil are gazing open-mouthed, over-awed by the impressive nature of the ceremony, and the solemn airs of the performers. Bathos is arrived at in a notice on the wall, past which these 'hogs in harness' are strutting--'Ordered by the Mayor and Corporation that no pigs be suffered to walk the streets. For every offence the penalty of five shillings!' _August 1799._ _A Game of Put in a Country Ale House._ G. M. Woodward invt. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann. 1799. _Bay of Biscay._ (See 1789.) _September 3, 1799._ _Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack shaking hands with an old acquaintance._ Published September 3, 1799, by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The troops forming the British Expedition which restored the Prince of Orange to his states are represented landing in the Texel, and delivering the Dutch from the hands of their friends the Sansculottes. Mynheer has become wretched and ragged under the French régime; he is shaking a British tar by the hand, heartily delighted to see a chance of recovering his freedom:--'Ah, Mynheer Bull, these cursed French rats have gnawed us to the backbone; they have barely left us a pipe, a drop of Hollands, or a red herring; oh, what a pretty pickle have we brought ourselves into!' 'Well, Mynheer,' responds Jack Tar, 'you seem heartily sick of fraternity: had you stuck to your old friends instead of embracing your ragged relations, you might have kept your gilders, saved your breeches, and preserved both states and stadtholder.' A Dutch vrow is trampling her foot upon an order of the French Convention:--'If any Dutch woman be detected in concealing any part of her husband's private property, she shall be guillotined.' She has secured a trifling comfort, a bottle of 'Hollands gin.' 'I have had great trouble, Mynheer, to smuggle this bottle for you, those French ragamuffins search me so close!' The troops forming the English contingent are landing from their ships, and driving the French legions before them at the point of the bayonet; the apostles of Liberty are losing their requisitions, 'Ducats and gilders for the use of the municipality;' they despair of converting their invaders: 'Here be dese English Bull dog, dey be such stupid brute dat we cannot make them comprehend the joys of Fraternisation!' _September 20, 1799._ _The Irish Baronet and his Nurse._ ('Changed at his Birth.') Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. _October 1, 1799._ _The Gull and the Rook._ Published by Hixon, 155 Strand. _October 1, 1799._ _The Crow and the Pigeon._ Published by Hixon, 155 Strand. _October, 1799._ _Twopenny Whist._ Designed by G. M. Woodward. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. _October 28, 1799._ _A Note of Hand._ Designed by G. M. Woodward. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann.--From Bunbury to Woodward the change is easy. In all these renderings of the designs of less skilful amateurs it must be remembered that Rowlandson's part was not limited to that of a mere copyist of their ideas; he had to put crude conceptions into a presentable shape, and in most instances he has added points which originated in his own invention, and, as far as execution is concerned, he has made the works mainly his own. In the present caricature there is actually no indication of Woodward's handiwork; a smart sailor of the period, returning to shore with prize money galore, and a watch, chain, and seals in either fob, neat silver shoe-buckles, and a spic-span rig-out, is calling to cash a twenty-pound note on a banker, who is negligently looking at the ceiling. The honest tar, who probably thinks the amount of the draft he has to draw a veritable fortune, is evincing his consideration for the man of finance--'I say, my tight little fellow, I've brought you a Tickler! A draught for twenty pounds, that's all! But don't be downhearted, you shan't stop on my account! I'll give you two days to consider of it.' 1799 (?). _Legerdemain._--The subject owes its invention to the observant humour of Henry Bunbury, the caricaturist of gentle birth, who was ever a friendly ally of Rowlandson; while the latter has lent his more trained skill to work out the conceptions of the flattered amateur, further regarded, according to the views of his contemporaries, as his distinguished patron. We are introduced in 'Legerdemain,' to the consulting room and operating surgery of certain rustic practitioners, who combine the twin professions of dentists and pedicures; teeth and corns being extracted promiscuously, as the requirements of their patients might necessitate. Strength, rather than skill, is the chief requisition, if we may trust the whimsicalities of 'Legerdemain,' where main force directs the operations of the performers. One sturdy tooth drawer is bringing his knee and all the brute power at his command to bear in the way of leverage on the refractory grinder of an unfortunate and distracted client; a hammer and a pair of coarse pincers do not argue well for the painless dentistry of the establishment. A squire, judging from the liveried servant in attendance, is submitting his foot to another professor, for the removal of an obstinate corn; the victim is thrown into paroxysms of agony by the forcible mode of procedure adopted: the rude chiropedist has seized the sufferer's foot securely under his arm, and is dragging away with such vigour that, if the corn will not be persuaded to come off decently, the toe will be dragged out by the roots--the latter a most undeniable method of permanent cure so far as corns are concerned. _November 1, 1799._ _March to the Camp._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _November 1, 1799._ _Good Night._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A gentleman in the last stage of sleepiness with his nightcap on his head, and his chamber-candlestick flaring away--he is yawning like a cavern, and stretching his arms as if heavy with slumber. The expression is realistically conveyed. [Illustration: A BANKRUPT CART, OR THE ROAD TO RUIN IN THE EAST.] _November 5, 1799._ _A Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The fortunate possessor of that dubious vehicle, 'a Bankrupt cart,' is proceeding in state past his own premises with his chin in the air; the showy wife of his bosom in feathers and finery is riding by his side, and their children are packed in sandwich fashion. A follower, who is probably a drayman, put into livery for the occasion, and mounted on one of the horses used in the business, is grinning at the high and mighty dignity assumed by his employers. A news boy is blowing his horn in the averted faces of the party, offering the _London Gazette_, which contains the objectionable black list of bankruptcies, wherein, it is hinted, the name of 'Mash, Brewer,' figures conspicuously. Puddle Dock is the scene of this exposure, and the brewery is posted with advertisements, which indicate the sudden downfall of fashionable ambition: 'A house to be let in Grosvenor Square, suitable for a genteel family,' and 'Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, _The Comedy of the Bankrupt_, with _High Life Below Stairs_.' _November 5, 1799._ _A Dasher, or the Road to Ruin in the West._ G. M. Woodward del. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann. 1799 (?). _Loose Thoughts._--A reclining female figure, lightly attired, and gracefully posed, buried in romantic creations of the imagination. _The Bookbinder's Wife._--Somewhat similar to the taste of the preceding. The nude figure of a lady toying with her infant: these subjects, which are avowedly of a slightly suggestive character, are handled with a grace and refinement which goes a long way to redeem the free nature of the subjects. 1799 (?). _The Nursery._--A domestic subject; a gracefully posed female figure and two infants. 1799 (?). _A Freshwater Salute._--The occupants of two waterside crafts are exchanging courtesies on the river, a more frequent occurrence at the beginning of the century, when figures of speech, especially among 'waterside loafers,' were more forcible than refined. The boatmen in the respective wherries are bawling at one another, and a stout damsel is extending, in expressive pantomime, an invitation which has shocked the proprieties of the occupants of the other craft, a lady of _ton_ in a gay hat and feathers, and a very prim old gentleman, who is looking perfectly rigid with horror and indignation. 1799 (?). _Ride to Rumford._--'Let the gall'd jade wince.' A stout equestrienne has put up her steed at the shop of an apothecary, who combines the profession of veterinary surgeon: the venerable practitioner, with spectacles on nose, is preparing a diaculum plaister for the scarified horsewoman. 1799 (?). _City Fowlers--mark._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp. Against the wind he takes his prudent way, Whilst the strong gale directs him to the prey; Now the warm scent assures the covey near, He treads with caution and he points with fear.--GAY. 1799 (?). _The City Hunt._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.--This scene of cockney horsemanship is suggestive of the learned lectures of Geoffrey Gambado, Esq., Riding Master to that authority on equestrianism, the Doge of Venice. It is a question which are the more extraordinary animals, the mounted citizens or their horses; all is grotesque and burlesque. Of course fat men are shown tumbling off and over their steeds; and with equal propriety, a brook is introduced, in which to deposit the unfortunate leapers. Various curs have come out to share the run, and among the most spirited riders may be distinguished a brace of black chimney-sweeps, fraternally perched astride the single donkey possessed by the firm. 1799 (?). _Une Bonne Bouche._--A stout gourmand impaling an entire sucking-pig on a fork. 1799 (?). _Cits airing themselves on Sunday._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.--A lady and gentleman are enjoying an equestrian promenade, too busily engaged in flirting to notice that their horses are riding over some wandering pigs. A Jew is in a chaise, taking his pleasure in the air; the fair Jewess, his wife, is driving, the rest of their family are by their side. A stout elderly volunteer in his uniform is out for exercise and relaxation, mounted on a heavy horse from the cart, ridden with blinkers. 1799 (?). _A Militia Meeting._--The original suggestion for this subject, which bears Rowlandson's name, is, with several other small etchings, belonging to the same series, due to Henry Bunbury; it represents a 'justice's parlour,' filled with local magnates, who are seated in council on the momentous militia question. The characteristics of the various personages are individualised with the sense of humour and that power of hitting off quaint expressions with which both Bunbury and Rowlandson were gifted in the highest degree. 1799 (?). _A Grinning Match._--The companion print to _A Militia Meeting_, executed under the same auspices. A party of rustics, whose rude features are more rudely burlesqued, are grouped around a barrel to assist at a competitive exhibition of 'face-making.' The challenge runs thus: 'A gold ring to be grinned for; the frightfullest grinner to be the winner.' Mounted on a tub is one of the champions, round his head is the traditional setting of a horse collar, and he is succeeding in making the most fearful grimaces, to the consequent delight of the spectators. [Illustration: DISTRESS.] 1799 (?). _Distress_, (18 inches by 12-5/8,) _from an Original Drawing by Thomas Rowlandson_.--Published by Thomas Palser, Surrey side, Westminster Bridge.--That Rowlandson possessed a remarkable power of grasping the humorous side of life was generally acknowledged in his own day, and is now well established, time having confirmed the justness of his title to a lasting reputation; indeed, his works in this order have long received a recognition which is more assured than has been accorded to those of his contemporaries. It may, however, be pointed out, with equal sincerity, that his conception of the terrible is even more remarkable than his facility for expressing the whimsical frivolities of society. It would be difficult to find a more realistic representation of the horrors of shipwreck than the appalling scene pictured under the title of 'Distress.' The fearful sufferings of the survivors, exposed without sustenance to the dangers of the deep, and the hopelessness of any chance of rescue, are all simply set forth with intense feeling, and a faithful perception of the horrors of the situation which is harrowing to examine, although it is evident that the terrors of the subject must have exercised a certain fascination over the mind of the delineator. It seems clear that portions of a crew have escaped the loss of their vessel only to become the powerless victims of more insupportable sufferings. A solitary officer and several of the crew are crowded into a boat, which they have no means of properly navigating. Provisions and water are evidently wanting; the horizon is a blank, the sea is still running high, and the sky threatens further tempests. Hunger, thirst, and exposure, are reducing the ocean waifs to madmen; while some are in paroxysms, others are stiffening corpses, and the body of one sufferer is about to be cast into the waters to lighten the freight; some are sunk in blank indifference or imbecile despair; others are furious, one or two are looking for help from above, and a few, among them the young officer and the boatswain, are doing their best to steer the open and over-laden boat towards a likely course. The cabin boy's distress is rendered with peculiar pathos. 1799. _Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise._ Twenty-four plates, designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson, under the direction of Messrs. H. Angelo and Son, Fencing-masters to the Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster. Dedicated to Colonel Herries. Oblong folio. London. Published, as the Act directs, February 12, 1799, by H. Angelo, Curzon Street, Mayfair.--Engraved Title and Frontispiece. A tablet topped by the figure of Fame and supported by a relievo representing Guards on the march; below it a trophy, and the escutcheon of the corps. On either side an archway or portico, with relievo tablets above, representing military scenes. On guard and saluting, on the left, is a Light Horse Volunteer of London and Westminster; on the right is one of the same corps dismounted, presenting arms. The etchings are dated September 1, 1798. The subjects are executed with considerable dash and spirit. The major part of the plates represent movements of cavalry, depicted with knowledge and power; instead of being, as the titles of the illustrations would indicate, mere definitions of the positions assumed in the exercises, the artist has, with superior ingenuity and ability, managed to produce a lively series of military tableaux filled with appropriate actions, in which bodies of troops, reviews, incidents of war, engagements of large parties, assaults, repulses, and other military demonstrations, make up the backgrounds, and convert a set of plates of mere broadsword exercises into an animated and interesting collection of warlike pictures. Judging from the lengthy subscription list appended to the folio, these plates must have enjoyed a wide popularity, secured under the auspices of the Angelos, whose acquaintances amongst the fashionable world enabled them to obtain a satisfactory array of patrons and subscribers. The subjects are as follows:-- Prepare to guard. Guard. Horse's head, near side, protect. Offside protect, new guard. Left protect. Right protect. Bridle arm protect. Sword arm protect. St. George's guard. Thigh protect, new guard. Give point, and left parry. Cut one, and bridle arm protect. Cut two, and right protect. Cut one, and horse's head, near side, protect. Cut six, and sword arm protect. Cut two, and horse's off side protect, new guard. Cut one, and thigh protect, new guard. On the right to the front, parry against infantry. _Infantry._ Outside guard; St. George's guard. Inside guard. Outside half hanger. Hanging guard. Inside half hanger. Half-circle guard. Medium guard. The consequence of not shifting the leg. The advantage of shifting the leg. 1799. _Loyal Volunteers of London and Environs._--Infantry and cavalry in their respective uniforms. Representing the whole of the Manual, Platoon, and Funeral exercises in eighty-seven plates. Designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson. Dedicated by permission to His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester. Engraved title-page; inscription in a lozenge; head of Mars above; Mercury's caduceus and branches of laurel; Cupid-warrior, and Cupid-justice with scales and sword, supported by a trophy of arms, accoutrements, &c. Dedicatory title.--This illuminated School of Mars, or review of the Light Volunteer corps of London and its vicinity, is dedicated by permission to His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester by his most obliged and very humble servant, R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. August 12, 1799. LIST OF SUBJECTS. _Infantry._ PLATE. POSITION. 1. St. James's Volunteers _Stand at ease._ 2. The Royal Westminster Volunteers _Attention._ 3. Broad Street Ward Volunteers _Fix bayonets, 1st motion._ 4. St. Mary, Islington, Volunteers " _2nd_ " 5. St. Mary-le-Strand and Somerset House Volunteers _Fix bayonets, 3rd motion._ 6. London and Westminster Light Horse Volunteers (Dismounted) _Shoulder arms, 1st motion._ 7. St. Clement Danes Volunteers " _2nd_ " 8. Bloomsbury and Inns of Court _Recover arms._ Volunteers 9. St. George's, Hanover Square, _Shoulder arms (from recover), Light Infantry 1st motion._ 10. St. George's, Hanover Square, Volunteers _Charge bayonet, 2nd motion._ 11. St. Martin's in the Fields Volunteers " _1st_ " 12. Temple Bar and St. Paul's Volunteers (Loyal London Volunteers) _Present arms, 1st motion._ 13. Cornhill Association Volunteers " _2nd_ " 14. Temple Association Volunteers " _3rd_ " 15. Bethnal Green Volunteers, Light Infantry (Mile End Volunteers) _Support arms, 1st motion._ 16. Bethnal Green Battalion Volunteers " _2nd_ " 17. Hans Town Association Volunteers _Stand at ease, supporting arms._ 18. Deptford Volunteer Infantry _Slope arms._ 19. Loyal Westminster Light Infantry _Order arms, 1st motion._ 20. The Hon. Artillery Company of London " _2nd_ " 21. Pimlico Volunteer Association _Unfix bayonets, 1st motion._ 22. Richmond Volunteers " _2nd_ " 23. Covent Garden Volunteers " _3rd_ " 24. Three Regiments of Royal East India Volunteers _An officer saluting._ 25. Bishopsgate Volunteers _Handle arms._ 26. Brentford Association _Ground arms, 1st motion._ 27. Fulham Association " _2nd_ " 28. St. Andrew, Holborn, and St. George the Martyr Military Association " _3rd_ " 29. Castle Baynard Ward Association Volunteers _Secure arms, 1st motion._ 30. Finsbury Volunteers " _2nd_ " 31. Newington, Surrey, Volunteer Association " _3rd_ " 32. Knight Marshal's Volunteers _Prime and load, 1st priming motion, front rank._ 33. Guildhall Volunteer Association, " _2nd_ " " 34. Cheap Ward Association " _3rd_ " " 35. Armed Association of St. Luke, Chelsea " _4th_ " " 36. Marylebone Volunteers " _5th_ " " 37. Coleman Street Ward Military _Prime and load, 6th priming motion, front rank._ 38. St. Pancras Volunteers " _7th_ " " 39. Cordwainers' Ward Volunteers " _1st loading motion._ 40. St. Margaret and St. John, Westminster, Volunteer Associations " _2nd_ " 41. Lambeth Loyal Volunteers " _3rd_ " 42. St. George's, Southwark, Loyal Volunteers " _4th_ " 43. St. Saviour's, Southwark, Association " _5th_ " 44. St. Olave's, Southwark, Volunteers " _6th_ " 45. Poplar and Blackwall Volunteers " last motion. 46. Sadler's Sharpshooters _A Light Infantry Man defending himself with Sadler's patent gun and long,cutting bayonet._ 47. Radcliff Volunteers _Make ready, front rank._ 48. Union, Wapping, Volunteers _Present_ " 49. Loyal Hackney Volunteers _Fire_ " 50. Bermondsey Volunteers _Front rank kneeling, make ready._ 51. Loyal Volunteers, St. John's, Southwark _Present (as front rank kneeling)._ 52. Langbourn Ward Volunteers _Prime and load (as a centre rank)._ 53. St. George's, Hanover Square, Armed Association _Make ready (as a centre rank)._ 54. St. Sepulchre (Middlesex) Volunteers _Present_ " 55. Farringdon Ward Within Volunteers _Prime and load (as a rear rank)._ 56. Aldgate Ward Association _Make ready_ " 57. Walbrook Ward Association _Present_ " 58. Clerkenwell Association _Advance arms._ 59. Royal Westminster Grenadiers " _4th motion._ 60. Bread Street Ward Volunteers _Shoulder arms, from advance 1st motion._ 61. Vintry Ward Volunteers _Club arms, 1st motion._ 62. Portsoken Ward Volunteers " _2nd_ " 63. St. Catherine's Association " _3rd_ " 64. Farringdon Ward (Without) Volunteers " _4th_ " 65. Bridge Ward Association _Mourn arms, 1st motion._ 66. Tower Ward Association " _2nd_ " 67. Christ Church (Surrey) Association " _3rd_ " 68. Loyal Bermondsey Volunteers _Present arms, 1st motion from mourn arms._ 69. Billingsgate Association " _2nd_ " " 70. Highland Armed Association _An officer._ 71. The Armed Association of St. Mary, Whitechapel _Present arms, 2nd flugel motion._ 72. Bank of England Volunteers, Light Infantry _Order_ " " 73. Candlewick Ward Association _Support arms, 1st_ " 74. Queenhythe Ward Volunteers _A sergeant with arms advanced._ 75. Ward of Cripplegate (Without) Volunteers. _Order arms._ 76. Dowgate Ward Volunteers " 77. Mile End Volunteers _Pile arms._ 78. St. Leonard, Shoreditch, Volunteers " 79. Trinity, Minories, Association " _Cavalry._ 1. London and Westminster Light Horse Volunteers. 2. Surrey Yeomanry. 3. Deptford Cavalry. 4. Westminster Cavalry. 5. Middlesex Cavalry. 6. Southwark Cavalry. 7. Clerkenwell Cavalry. 8. Lambeth Loyal Cavalry. 9. Loyal Islington Volunteer Cavalry. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET * * * * * INDICES. INDEX OF NAMES, PERSONS, &c. Ackermann, Rudolph (Rowlandson's publisher), i. 85, 89-93 Ackermann's _Poetical Magazine_, i. 33 Addington, Hon. H., 'The Doctor,' i. 246 Alexander, Emperor of Russia, ii. 281, 294 Angelo, Henry, 'Reminiscences,' i. 55, 64-6, 68, 70-2, 78-9, 85, 87-8, 287, 298-300, 374; ii. 5 Angelo's Fencing Rooms, i. 241 Angelo and Rowlandson at Vauxhall, i. 62-3, 156 -- and Son, Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise, i. 374 -- Henry, his sketch of Simmons, the Murderer, ii. 81 Anstey, Christopher, 'Comforts of Bath,' i. 333-49 Arnold, General, i. 173 Atkinson, Christopher, i. 143-4 Auckland, Lord Eden, i. 173 Austria, Emperor of, ii. 281 Austria, Crown Prince of, ii. 281 Banco to the Knave (Gillray), i. 106 Banks, Sir Joseph, i. 192 Bannister, the Comedian, a Collector, i. 70; ii. 248 -- John, the Comedian, an Art Student, i. 53-4 Barrymore, Lord, i. 58, 161-2, 303 Bate, Dudley, of the _Morning Post_, i. 159 Bates, William, B.A., 'Sketch of Rowlandson's Works,' 'Essay on George Cruikshank,' ii. 379 Bedford, Duke of, i. 359 Bell, Dr., ii. 216 Beresford, James, ii. 178 Billington, Mrs., i. 158 'Black Dick' (Lord Howe), i. 199 'Blackmantle,' Bernard (pseudo), i. 43; ii. 375, 378-9 Blair, Doctor Hugh, i. 198 Blucher, Prince von, ii. 278-9, 280-1, 293-5 'Book for a Rainy Day,' J. T. Smith, i. 70 Borowloski, Count, 'The Polish Dwarf,' i. 186 Bossy, Doctor, ii. 5 Boswell, James, i. 193-8 Boswell's 'Tour to the Hebrides,' i. 84, 193-8 Buonaparte, the Emperor Napoleon, ii. 42-3, 45, 47, 52, 54, 61, 82-3, 93-102, 130, 159, 162-3, 187, 203-4, 255, 258-64, 271-2, 276-82, 289, 291-3 -- Joseph, King of Spain, ii. 95-6, 98-101 -- Louis, King of Holland, ii. 97, 258-9 Buonaparte's Generals, ii. 291 Brightelmstone in 1789, i. 277 Britannia, 117, 136, 141-2, 247; ii. 6 Buckingham, Marquis of, i. 243 Bullock, Proprietor of 'Bullock's London Museum,' ii. 309 Bunbury, Henry, the Caricaturist, i. 61, 78-80, 369 -- the Caricaturist (illustrated biographical sketch of his life by Joseph Grego), i. 3 -- Henry, Caricaturist (Gambado's 'Annals of Horsemanship and Academy for Grown Horsemen'), i. 352-3; ii. 101-15, 217, 221-3 Burdett, Sir Francis, i. 359; ii. 74, 181-2, 184, 365 Burke, Hon. Edmund, i. 112, 118-19, 220, 245, 248, 274, 289; ii. 13 Burton, Alfred, 'Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy,' ii. 363-4 Bute, Lord, i. 141 Butler, S., ii. 174, 198 Camden, Lord, i. 244 Canning, George, verses on 'All the Talents,' ii. 69 Canning, George, ii. 166 Carmarthen, Marquis of, i. 244, 248 Cartright, Major John, i. 121 Castlereagh, Lord, ii. 166 Catalini, Madame, ii. 165 Catharine, Empress of Russia, i. 290 Chambers, Sir William (architect of Somerset House), ii. 217 Charles the Fourth, King of Spain, i. 290, 292; ii. 94 Charlotte, Queen, i. 110, 199-210, 220, 228, 230, 252, 290 Chatham, Lord, i. 244 -- General, ii. 164, 166 Chattelier, Miss (Rowlandson's aunt), i. 52, 63-4 Chiffney (jockey to the Prince of Wales), i. 207 Clarke, Mrs. Mary Anne, ii. 135-64, 166, 181 -- Scandal, The, i. 28; ii. 135-64, 181 Clavering, General, ii. 143 Coleraine, Lord, i. 180, 220, 229. (_See_ Hanger) Collections of Rowlandson's drawings, i. 5. Appendix Collings, the Caricaturist, i. 82-4, 191, 193 Combe, William, ii. 247, 268, 317-55, 359-62, 271-2 -- -- (author): 'The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax,' ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 'The Dance of Death,' ii. 317-15 'The Dance of Life,' ii. 359-62 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus,' ii. 371-2 Corbett, Thomas, High Bailiff for Westminster, ii. 140, 153-4 Cornwall, Views in, ii. 56 Cross Reading (Whiteford's), i. 84 Cruikshank, George, caricaturist, i. 16-19 Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 225 Curtis, Commodore, ii. 163-4 Davy, Sir Humphrey, ii. 366 Derby, Lord, i. 359 Devonshire, Duchess of, i. 124, 126-9, 131-2, 135, 141-2, 152, 158; ii. 59 Didelot, dancer, i. 283 Don Carlos, ii. 94 Duncannon, Lady, i. 135, 141, 158 Dundas (Lord Melville), i. 121, 134, 243-4, 246; ii. 49-51, 60, 136 Dundas, Sir David, ii. 137 Dunthorne, James, i. 226-7, 314 Elliot, Right Hon. Hugh, English Minister at Dresden, ii. 311 Engelbach, Lewis, 'Letters from Italy, or Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 English Caricaturists, i. 2 'English Spy, The,' by 'Bernard Blackmantle,' i. 43 Erskine, Lord, i. 112, 359 'Farquhar,' Ferdinand (pseudo), 'Relics of a Saint,' ii. 317 Ferdinand of Spain, ii. 93 Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' ii. 55-6 Fitzgerald, Mr., i. 161 Fitzherbert, Mrs., i. 170, 220, 226, 248, 276 Fox, Hon. Charles James, ii. 49, 58-61, 109, 112-13, 116-17, 119, 123-7, 129, 131-5, 138-43, 154, 221, 231-2, 245, 248, 270, 359 Fox, General, i. 117 Frederick the Great, i. 182-3 French Ambassador, The, i. 147 Gambado, Geoffrey (pseudo Henry Bunbury), 'Academy for Grown Horsemen,' i. 352-3 -- -- 'Annals of Horsemanship,' i. 352; ii. 102-15 George the Third, i. 115, 119, 140-1, 182-3, 199-210, 220, 228-9, 248, 251-2, 290, 360; ii. 6, 59, 82, 196 Gillray, the Caricaturist (his life, works, and times, by Joseph Grego), i. 3-4, 54, 106, 143, 229, 242, 328; ii. 197, 223 Gloucester, Duke of, i. 328 Goldsmith, Oliver, 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' ii. 356-9, 375 Gordon, Duchess of, i. 126, 152 Grafton, Duke of, i. 244, 246-8 Grattan, i. 250, 362 Grego, Joseph: 'An Illustrated Biographical Sketch of Bunbury, the Caricaturist,' i. 3 'The Works of James Gillray, with the Story of his Life and Times,' i. 3-4 'A Collection of Drawings by Rowlandson.' Appendix Grenville, i. 244 -- Lord, ii. 59 Guise, General, his collection of pictures at Oxford, ii. 66 Hadfield. Attempted the life of the King, ii. 6 Hamilton, Sir William, Ambassador at Naples, ii. 311-13 -- Lady, ii. 311-13 Hanger, George, i. 180, 220, 229. (_See_ Coleraine.) Harrison, W. H., 'The Humourist,' ii. 380-6 Hartley, Mrs. (actress), i. 160 Hastings, Warren, i. 226, 230 -- Marquis of, ii. 299 Haydon, B. R., ii. 378-9 Heath, James, i. 85 -- -- letter to, written by the Caricaturist, ii. 48 Hebrides, Boswell's Journal of a Tour in the, i. 193-8 Heywood ('Old Iron Wig'), i. 70 'Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing,' by J. P. Malcolm, F.S.A., i. 73-6 'History of Caricature and the Grotesque in Literature and Art,' i. 3, 76 Hobart, Hon. Mrs. (Lady Buckinghamshire), i. 127, 129-30, 134 Holland, Lord, i. 289 Holman, the actor, i. 165, 190 Hood, Admiral Lord, i. 121, 124, 127, 133, 228 Hook, Theodore, 'Chacun à son Goût,' i. 67 Hooper, the boxer, i. 162 Horne-Tooke, John, i. 327, 359; ii. 74 House, Sam, i. 98-9, 108, 129, 131, 138-9 Howe, Lord, i. 67-8, 199 Howitt, the artist, Rowlandson's brother-in-law, i. 50 John Bull, ii. 42, 43, 47, 50-1, 58, 60-1, 75, 82-3, 93, 101, 130, 159 Johnson, Samuel, LL.D., i. 193-8 Junot, General, ii. 101, 204 Kemble, John Philip, ii. 46, 165 Kent, Duke of, ii. 141-4 King of Prussia, The, i. 182-3 Kingsbury, Caricaturist, i. 242, 290 Knight (Miss Cornelia), authoress, ii. 311-12 Lambert, Daniel, ii. 59-60 Leicestershire Giant, ii. 59-60 Leinster, Duke of, i. 249, 251 Life of Henry Bunbury, the Caricaturist, i. 4, 75-9 Lonsdale (Earl of), i. 136-7 Lord Howe's Action, i. 67-8 Lothian, Marquis of, i. 249, 251 Louis XVI. of France, i. 274, 290 -- XVIII. of France, ii. 292, 295 Lowther, Sir James, i. 136 Loyal Volunteers of London and Environs, i. 375 Lunardi, Vincent, i. 163-4 Malcolm, J. P., F.S.A., 'Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing,' i. 75-6; ii. 184 Manners, Lord Charles, ii. 215-16 Melville, Lord (_see_ Henry Dundas), ii. 49-51, 60-1, 75 Memoirs of John Bannister, Comedian, i. 47 Mitchell, the Banker, i. 68, 71, 85 Moira, Lord, embarkation for _La Vendée_, i. 68 Morland, George, the Artist, i. 86-7, 239 -- -- Portrait of, by Rowlandson, i. 86; ii. 229, 330 Moser, Michael, Keeper at Somerset House, i. 53 Mulgrave, Lord, ii. 166 Munro, Doctor, i. 124 National Collections of Caricatures, i. 5; ii. Appendix. Nelson, Admiral Lord, i. 350; ii. 52, 54, 311-13 'Newcome, Johnny' (pseudo), Military Adventures of, ii. 298 Ney, Marshal, ii. 291, 293 Nicols, John, Editor of the _Gentleman's Magazine_, i. 282 Night Auctions, i. 70 Nixon, Henry, the Facetious, i. 82-3; ii. 26, 66 Nollekens, J., Artist, ii. 16, 19 Norfolk, Duke of, i. 359 North, Lord, i. 105-6, 108, 112-13, 116, 119, 124-5, 142, 220 O'Connor, i. 364 O'Kelly, Colonel, i. 259-60 O'Meara, Dr., 146, 155 Orleans, Duke of, i. 252-3, 248, 274 Pacchierolti, i. 98 Paoli, General, i. 193 Papworth, J. B., ii. 268 Parsons, the Comedian, i. 70 Paul, Emperor of Russia, ii. 28-9 Perdita, i. 159 Perry, James, of the _Morning Chronicle_, i. 159 Petersham, Lord, ii. 225 Petty, Lord Henry, ii. 58-60 Picturesque Beauties of Boswell, i. 193-8 'Pindar, Peter,' Trick played off on, i. 71-2 -- -- i. 97, 143, 187-8, 192, 200, 210, 361; ii. 13, 217 Pitt, Hon. William, i. 115, 117, 119, 121, 123, 221, 226, 230, 231-2, 243-8, 360; ii. 22, 28, 49, 50 Pomfret, Lord, ii. 225 Pope Pius the Sixth, i. 290 -- -- the (Pius VII.), ii. 44, 51, 163, 204 Portland, Duchess of, i. 124 -- Duke of, i. 289 Potemkin, i. 292 Priestly, Dr., i. 272 Prince of Wales, i. 110, 132, 140, 152, 159, 170, 220, 226, 229-31, 243, 246-7, 248, 251, 274, 290, 298, 303 -- Regent, ii. 294 Prussia, King of, i. 292 Pugin's 'Microcosm, or London in Miniature,' ii. 125-8 Pyne, W. H. (_Ephraim Hardcastle_), 'Wine and Walnuts,' i. 55-6 -- -- -- _Somerset House Gazette_, i. 55, 57-8, 69 Queen Charlotte, i. 110, 199-200, 220, 228 Queen of Spain, ii. 93 Quirk (Boxer), ii. 226 'Quiz' (pseudo), 'The Grand Master, or Qui Hi in Hindostan,' ii. 299-301 Ramberg, Caricaturist, i. 223, 225 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the Year 1797,' ii. 19-21 Richmond, Duke of, i. 183, 231, 243-4, 246-8 Robinson, Jack, i. 117-18 -- Mrs., i. 159 Romney (the Painter), ii. 311 Ron, Baron (Quack Dentist), i. 211 Roscius, the Infant, ii. 46 Rosedale, John (Mariner), exhibitor of the pictures at Greenwich Hospital, ii. 71 Rowlandson, Thomas (the Caricaturist), i. 239, 360 -- a student at the Royal Academy, i. 53 -- Academy drawings, i. 22-3 -- and Napoleon, i. 27-8 -- as a landscape artist, i. 14 -- as a marine artist, i. 18 -- as a portrait painter, i. 13 -- at Portsmouth, i. 67 -- biographical references to, i. 54-5 -- book illustrations, i. 35-45 -- chronological summary of his caricatures, ii. 389. (_See_ 4) -- Continental tours, i. 59, 68-9; ii. 330-1 -- contributions to the Royal Academy, i. 50-65 -- collections of drawings by, ii. Appendix -- Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum, ii. Appendix -- South Kensington Museum, ii. Appendix Rowlandson, Dyce Collection, South Kensington Museum, ii. Appendix -- -- at Windsor Castle, ii. Appendix -- early caricatures, i. 22 -- engraved works, i. 23-30 -- family, the, i. 49-51 -- fortune bequeathed the Caricaturist, A, i. 64 -- gambling proclivities, i. 64 -- _Gentleman's Magazine_, the, obituary notice, i. 55, 94-5 -- George Cruikshank on Rowlandson, i. 16-19 -- his first visit to Paris, i. 52 -- his friends, i. 60-2 -- his publishers, i. 6 -- his schoolfellows, i. 51 -- Illustrations to 'The Tour of Dr. Syntax in Search of the Picturesque,' ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 -- -- 'The World in Miniature,' ii. 312-17, 362 -- -- 'The English Dance of Death,' ii. 317-55 -- imitations of the drawings of contemporary artists, i. 151 -- in France, Flanders, and Holland, i. 58, 68-9; ii. 330-1 -- in Paris, i. 58-9 -- journeys in England, i. 75, 276-9, 360; ii. 6, 19-21, 56, 169, 181, 239-246, 373 -- letter from, 1804, ii. 48 -- lists of public and private collections. Appendix -- mode of working at Ackermann's 'Repository of Arts,' i. 31 -- on the Westminster Election, i. 22, 121-43, 153-4 -- portraits of the artist, i. 45-8, 360; ii. 228-30 -- portraits exhibited by, i. 59 -- robbed, i. 65-6 -- successive exhibits at the Royal Academy. Figure subjects, i. 59, 64-5 -- views of the Colleges, Oxford and Cambridge, ii. 186 Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature,' ii. 373 -- illustrations to 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' ii. 356-9 -- -- 'The Dance of Life,' ii. 359, 362 -- -- 'An Excursion made to Brighthelmstone in the Year 1782,' i. 276-9 -- illustrations to Smollett's works, i. 320; ii. 56, 181 -- -- 'A Narrative of the War, 1793-5,' i. 328-9 -- -- 'Academy for Grown Horsemen,' i. 353; ii. 102-15, 181 -- -- Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' i. 304; ii. 55-6 -- illustrations to 'The Annals of Horsemanship,' i. 352-3; ii. 102-15, 181 -- -- 'Les Délices de la Grande-Bretagne,' i. 305 -- -- 'The Comforts of Bath,' i. 333-49 -- Views of London, i. 349 -- 'Sheets of Picturesque Etchings,' i. 280, 289 -- -- 'Cupid's Magic Lantern,' i. 332 -- -- 'Love in Caricature,' i. 353 -- -- 'Cries of London,' i. 354-6 -- -- _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 357-60 Rowlandson, 'Loyal Volunteers of London,' i. 375-7 -- 'Hungarian and Highland Broadside Exercise,' i. 374 -- 'Nautical Characters,' i. 362 -- 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 -- illustrations to Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey,' ii. 10, 169-74 -- -- 'The Beauties of Sterne,' ii. 10, 169-75 -- -- 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales,' ii. 19-21 -- -- 'Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature,' ii. 41 -- -- 'A Compendious Treatise on Modern Education,' ii. 41 -- -- 'Views in Cornwall, &c.,' ii. 56, 169, 181, 239-46 -- -- 'The Sorrows of Werter,' i. 190; ii. 57 -- -- Boswell's 'Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides,' i. 193-8 -- -- 'The Poems of "Peter Pindar,"' i. 192, 201-9 -- -- 'The Pleasures of Human Life,' ii. 83, 180, 362 -- -- 'The Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature,' ii. 125-8 -- -- 'The Miseries of Human Life,' ii. 119-24 -- -- 'Chesterfield Travestie,' ii. 115-17, 224 -- -- 'The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting,' ii. 115, 129, 178 -- -- _The Caricature Magazine_, ii. 115-16 -- -- G. A. Stevens' 'Lecture on Heads,' ii. 117-18 -- -- 'Beauties of Tom Brown,' ii. 115, 181 -- -- 'The Clarke Scandal,' ii. 135-62 -- -- _The Poetical Magazine_, ii. 175-78 -- -- 'The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen,' ii. 176 -- -- J. Beresford's 'Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life,' ii. 178 -- -- Butler's 'Hudibras,' ii. 174, 198 -- 'Sketches from Nature,' ii. 169 -- illustrations to 'Annals of Sporting,' by Caleb Quizzem, ii. 178-9 -- -- 'Petticoat Loose: a Fragmentary Poem,' ii. 238 -- -- 'Poetical Beauties of Scarborough,' ii. 268-9 -- -- Engelbach's 'Letters from Italy and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 -- -- 'The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome,' ii. 298-9, 312 -- -- 'Qui Hi, the Grand Master in Hindostan,' ii. 299-301 -- -- Ferdinand Farquhar's 'Relics of a Saint,' ii. 312, 317 -- -- 'New Sentimental Journal, or Travels in the Southern Provinces of France,' ii. 362, 368-70 -- -- 'The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy' (Burton), ii. 363 -- -- 'Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders,' ii. 366-7 -- -- 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus,' ii. 371-3 -- -- 'Crimes of the Clergy,' ii. 373 -- -- Chap Books, ii. 363 Rowlandson, 'The Spirit of the Public Journals for the Years 1823-4-5,' ii. 375 -- -- 'The English Spy,' by Bernard Blackmantle, ii. 378-9 -- -- 'The Humourist' (posthumous), ii. 380-6 -- -- 'Grotesque Drawing Book,' ii. 362 Rutland, Duchess of, i. 152 Salisbury (Lord Chamberlain), i. 327 Sandon, Captain, ii. 143 Sheridan, R. B., i. 229, 245, 248, 274, 289, 330; ii. 46, 58-60, 220. Sherwin, J. K., engraver, i. 45 Showell, Mrs., ii. 66 Siddons, Mrs., ii. 46 Sièyes, Abbé, ii. 47 Simmons, Thomas (_murderer_), ii. 81 Skeffington, Sir Lumley, i. 180 Smith, John Raffaelle, engraver, i. 47 Smith, John Thomas, portrait of Rowlandson, i. 48; ii. 17 'Nollekens and his Times,' ii. 55; ii. 16-19 'Book for a Rainy Day,' i. 70 Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle,' ii. 56 Miscellaneous Works, ii. 181 _Somerset House Gazette_, i. 54, 88 Sorrows of Werter, ii. 57 Southcott, Joanna (the 'Prophetess'), ii. 287 Spain, Queen of, ii. 93 Spain, Infants of, ii. 94 Stanislaus the Second, King of Poland, i. 290 Sterne, Laurence, ii. 10, 169-75. Stevens, G. A., 'A Lecture on Heads,' ii. 117 Sydney, Lord, i. 246 Talleyrand, Prince, ii. 45, 187, 280 Tegg's Caricatures, i. 34 Temple, Lord, i. 119, 140, 141 Thelwall (political lecturer), i. 327, 359 Thicknesse, Philip, i. 275-6 Thurlow, Lord, i. 121-2, 140-1, 220, 243-4, 248, 290 Tierney, Mr., i. 359 Topham, Major (_World_ newspaper), at Vauxhall, i. 63 Topham, Captain, i. 158, 165-7, 183, 190 Townshend, Lord John, i. 228 Towzer, Rev. Roger, ii. 287 Trotter, 51, 61 Vauxhall Gardens, Characters at, i. 156-62 Rowlandson at, i. 62-3 -- Singers at, 63 -- Mrs. Weichsel, i. 63 Wales, Prince of (afterwards George IV.), i. 110, 132, 140, 152, 159, 170, 220, 226, 229-31, 243, 246-8, 251, 274, 290, 298, 303 Walpole, Horace, i. 128 Ward (Boxer), ii. 226 Wardle, Colonel, ii. 135-64, 166, 181 Watson, Brook, i. 244 Weichsel, Mrs., i. 158 _Well-bred Man_, The (H. Nixon), i. 83 Wellington, Duke of, ii. 281, 293-5 Wells, Mrs., 166-7 Weltjé, Cook to the Prince of Wales, i. 71, 248, 251 His house at Hammersmith, i. 73-4 'Werter, Sorrows of,' i. 191; ii. 57 Westmacott, Charles Molloy, i. 43 'The Spirit of the Public Journals for the Years 1823-5,' ii. 375, 378 'The English Spy,' ii. 378-9 Whitbread, ii. 49, 60-1, 136 Whiteford, Caleb, i. 84-5 Wigstead, Henry, Bow Street Magistrate, i. 60, 81-2, 276-9, 360 Wigstead, Henry, 'An Excursion to Brighthelmstone made in the year 1872,' i. 276-9 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales,' i. 360; ii. 19-21 Wilberforce, ii. 50, 136 Wilkes, Alderman, i. 244 Wilson, Richard, Librarian at the Royal Academy, i. 53, 361 'Wine and Walnuts,' i. 54, 83 Woodward, George Moutard, the Caricaturist, i. 80; ii. 115, 128 'Works of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with the Story of his Life and Times,' i. 3-4 Wray, Sir Cecil, 111, 122, 124, 127, 133-4, 136-9, 154 Wright, Thomas, 'History of the Grotesque in Literature and Art,' i. 3 -- 'Caricature History of the Three Georges,' i. 3, 76-7 Würtemburg, King of, i. 327 York, Duke of, and Mrs. Clarke, i. 28; ii. 135-64, 178, 181 INDEX OF TITLES, SUBJECTS, PUBLISHED CARICATURES, ILLUSTRATIONS, &c. Abroad and at Home, ii. 66 Academy, The, for Grown Horsemen, i. 353 Accidents will Happen, ii. 297 Accommodation, or Lodgings to let, at Portsmouth, ii. 89 Accommodation Ladder, ii. 210 Accurate, An, and Impartial Narrative of the War (1793, 1794, 1795, &c.), i. 328, 329 Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo, ii. 293 Acquittal, The, or Upsetting the Porter Pot (Lord Melville), ii. 60, 61 Actress's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Acute Pain, ii. 2 Admiral Nelson Recruiting with his Brave Tars after the Glorious Battle of the Nile, i. 350-1 Admiration with Astonishment, ii. 1 Admiring Jew, The, i. 153 Advantage, The, of Shifting the Leg, i. 349, 351 Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy, The, ii. 363-4 Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend Mr. A. Adams, i. 312 Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, ii. 56 Advice to Sportsmen; selected from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell, ii. 179-80 Aerostation out at Elbows. Vincent Lunardi, i. 163-4 Affectionate Farewell, The, or Kick for Kick, ii. 280 After Dinner, i. 279 After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce, or Corporal Casey got into the Wrong Box, ii. 194 Ague and Fever, i. 226 'Ah! let me, Sire, refuse it, I implore.' ('Peter Pindar'), i. 207 Alehouse Door, ii. 314 All-a-growing, i. 356 Allegoria, ii. 11 All for Love: a Scene at Weymouth, ii. 147 All the Talents, ii. 67-9 Ambassador of Morocco on a Special Mission, The, ii. 146-7 Amorous Turk, An, i. 352 Amputation, i. 107, 320 Amsterdam, i. 331 Amusement for the Recess; or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture, ii. 161-2 Anatomist, The, ii. 202 Anatomy of Melancholy, The, ii. 86 'And now his lifted eyes the ceiling sought.' 'Peter Pindar,' i. 205. Angelo's Fencing Room, i. 297-300 Anger, i. 18; ii. 2 Anglers (1611), ii. 220, 222 Anglers (1811), ii. 222 Annals of Horsemanship, i. 352 Annals of Sporting by Caleb Quizem, ii. 178-9 Anonymous Letter, ii. 14 Anticipation (Chr. Atkinson, Contractor, in the Pillory), i. 143 Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life, ii. 178 _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 357-60, 362 Antiquarian, i. 252 Antiquarians à la Grecque, ii. 51 Anything will do for an Officer, ii. 62 Apollo and Daphne, i. 150 Apollo, Lyra, and Daphne, i. 364 Apostate, The, Jack Robinson, Political Ratcatcher, i. 117-9 Apothecaries' Prayer, The, ii. 31 Artist, An, Travelling in Wales, i. 360-2 Art of Ingeniously Tormenting, The, ii. 115, 129, 178 Art of Scaling, i. 219, 221 Astronomer, An, i. 366 At Dinner, i. 278-9 At Home and Abroad! Abroad and at Home! ii. 66 Attack, The, i. 289 Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White, The, in the White Hall, City of Laputa, ii. 309-10 Attention, i. 2; ii. 1 Attorney, ii. 14 Attributes, ii. 10-13 Awkward Squads Studying the Graces, ii. 220 Bachelor's Fare: Bread and Cheese and Kisses, ii. 253-4 Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazen-Nose Broke Loose, ii. 201 Bad News on the Stock Exchange, i. 325 Bad Speculation, A, i. 366 Bait for the Kiddies on the North Road, A, or 'That's your sort, prime bang up to the mark,' ii. 184, 186 Ballooning Scene, A, i. 323 Banditti, ii. 297 Bank, The, i. 306 Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East, i. 370 Barber, A, ii. 13 Barberorum, ii. 12 Barber's Shop, A, ii. 223 Bath, Comforts of (in 12 plates), i. 333-49 Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature, ii. 41 Bardolph Badgered, or the Portland Hunt, i. 289-90 Bartholomew Fair, ii. 92 Bassoon, The, with a French Horn accompaniment, ii. 206, 208 Bath Races, ii. 194 Battleorum, ii. 12 Bay of Biscay, i. 262, 368 Beast, The, as described in Revelation, chap. xiii. Resembling Napoleon Buonaparte, ii. 95 Beauties, i. 317-18 'Beauties of Sterne,' ii. 10, 169-75 'Beauties of Tom Brown,' ii. 115-181 Bed-warmer, A, i. 167 Beef à la Mode, ii. 3 Behaviour at Table (four subjects), ii. 117-18 Bel and the Dragon, ii. 216 Belle Limonadière au Café des Mille Colonnes, Palais Royal, Paris, ii. 272, 274 Benevolence, i. 316-17 'Benevolent Epistle to Sylvanus Urban' (_vide_), i. 282 Billiards, ii. 43 Billingsgatina, ii. 11 Billingsgate, i. 150 Billingsgate at Bayonne, or the Imperial Dinner, ii. 93-4 Bills of Exchange, ii. 6 Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures, A, ii. 90, 166-7 Bill of Wright's, The, or the Patriot Alarmed, ii. 162 Billy Lackbeard and Charley Blackbeard Playing at Football, i. 118 Bishop and his Clarke, The, or a Peep into Paradise, ii. 148 Bitter Fare, or Sweeps Regaling, ii. 233 Black, Brown, and Fair, ii. 71 Blackleg Detected Secreting Cards, &c., ii. 84 Blacksmith's Shop, i. 212 Black and White, i. 66 Bloody Boney, the Carcase Butcher, left off Trade, retiring to Scarecrow Island, ii. 279 Blucher the Brave Extracting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound, ii. 278 Blue and Buff Loyalty, i. 233 Boarding and Finishing School, A, ii. 54-5 Bob Derry of Newmarket, i. 105-6 Boney's Broken Bridge, ii. 159 Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys, ii. 203-4 Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying Speech, or Europe's Injuries Avenged, ii. 294 Boney Turned Moralist: 'What I was, what I am, what I ought to be,' ii. 282 _Bonne Bouche, Une_, i. 371 Bonnet Shop, A, ii. 187 Bookbinder's Wife, The, i. 371 Bookseller and Author, i. 148 Boot-Polishing, ii. 33 Borders for Halls, i. 364 Borders for Rooms and Screens, slips, i. 364 Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower, The, ii. 182-4 Bostonian Electors of Lancashire, ii. 310 Boswell, J., the Elder. Twenty caricatures by T. R. in illustration of B.'s 'Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides,' i. 193-8 Botheration. Dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar, i. 173, 317 Boxes! The, ii. 167 Box-Lobby Hero, The; the Branded Bully, or the Ass Stripped of the Lion's Skin, i. 190-1 Box-Lobby Loungers, i. 180-1 Boxing Match for 800 guineas between Dutch Sam and Medley, fought May 31, 1810, on Moulsey Hurst, near Hampton, ii. 189-90 Bozzy and Piozzi, i. 97 Brace of Blackguards, ii. 229-30 Brace of Public Guardians, A, i. 328 Brain-Sucker, The, or the Miseries of Authorship, i. 212 Breaking Cover, ii. 90 Breaking up of the Blue Stocking Club, ii. 289 Brewers' Drays, i. 183 Brewer's Dray; Country Inn, i. 213 Brilliants, The, ii. 22-6 Briskly Starting to pick up a Lady's Fan, &c., ii. 84-5 Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant, ii. 6 Britannia Roused, or the Coalition Monsters Destroyed, i. 117 Britannia's Support, or the Conspirators Defeated, i. 247 British Sailor, Frenchman, Spaniard, Dutchman, ii. 119 Broad Grins, or a Black Joke, ii. 230 Brothers of the Whip, i. 103 Brown, Tom, Beauties of, ii. 115, 181 Bull and Mouth, The, ii. 168 Bullock's Museum, ii. 309 Burning Shame, The, ii. 152 Burning the Books. Memoirs of Mrs. Clarke, ii. 158 Business and Pleasure, ii. 265 Butcher, A, 269-70 Butler, S. 'Hudibras,' ii. 198 Butterfly Catcher and the Bed of Tulips, ii. 62 Butterfly Hunting, ii. 61 Buy a Trap--a Rat-trap, i. 354-5 Buy my Fat Goose, i. 354 Buy my Moss Roses, or Dainty Sweet Briar, ii. 34 Cabriolet, A, i. 150 Cake in Danger, A, ii. 58 Calf's Pluck, A, ii. 80 Cambridge, Emmanuel College Garden, ii. 184 -- Inside View of the Public Library, ii. 184 Captain's Account Current of Charge and Discharge, The, ii. 64 Captain Bowling Introduced to Narcissa. 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 Captain Epilogue (Capt. Topham) to the Wells (Mrs. Wells), i. 165, 183 Careless Attention, i. 256 Caricature Magazine, The, or Hudibrastic Mirror, ii. 115-16 Caricature Medallions for Screens, ii. 6 Carter and the Gipsies, The, ii. 293 Cart Race, A, i. 260 Case is Altered, The, i. 132-3 Cash, ii. 6 Cat in Pattens, A, ii. 237-8 Catamaran, A, or an Old Maid's Nursery, ii. 42 Catching an Elephant, ii. 226 Cattle not Insurable, ii. 167 Chairmen's Terror, The, i. 308 Chamber of Genius, The, ii. 227 Champion of Oakhampton Attacking the Hydra of Gloucester Place, The, ii. 153-4 Champion of the People, The, i. 120 Chance-Seller of the Exchequer putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries, The, ii. 374-5 Chaos is come again, i. 283, 287-8 Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders (54 coloured plates), ii. 366-7 Charity Covereth a Multitude of Sins, i. 104-5 Charm, A, for a Democracy, _Anti-Jacobin_, i. 357-60 Chelsea Parade, or a Croaking Member Surveying the Inside and Outside of Mrs. Clarke's Premises, ii. 149 Chelsea Reach, i. 262 Chemical Lectures (Sir H. Davy), ii. 366 Chesterfield Burlesqued, ii. 224 Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners, ii. 115, 117 Christening, A, i. 282 Christmas Gambols, ii. 235 Chronological Summary of Rowlandson's Caricatures, ii. 389. (_See_ pages 387-408.) Cits Airing themselves on Sunday, i. 372 City Courtship, i. 171 City Fowlers--mark, i. 371 City Hunt, The, i. 371 Civilian, A, i. 366 Civility, i. 222 Clarke's, Mrs., Farewell to her Audience, ii. 156 Clarke's, Mrs., Last Effort, ii. 155 -- Levée, ii. 146 Clarke Scandal, The, ii. 135-62 Clearing a Wreck on the North Coast of Cornwall, ii. 56 Coalition Wedding, i. 112 Coast Scene, A: Rising Gale, i. 221 Coat of Arms, A. Dedicated to the newly-created Earl of Lonsdale, i. 136 Cobbler's Cure for a Scolding Wife, The, ii. 267-8 Cracking a Joke, ii. 267 Cockney Hunt, ii. 208, 295 Cold Broth and Calamity, i. 293, 313-14 Cole, Mother, i. 125 Collar'd Pork, ii. 6 Collections of Drawings by Rowlandson, ii. Appendix College Pranks, or Crabbed Fellows Taught to Caper on the Slack Rope, ii. 199 College Scene, A, or a Fruitless Attempt on the Purse of Old Square Toes, i. 216-19 Colonel Topham endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman, i. 165 Comedy in the Country: Tragedy in London, ii. 74 Comedy Spectators, i. 219 Comforts, The, of Bath (12 plates), i. 333-49 Comforts of the City, i. 366 Comfort in the Gout, i. 156-7; ii. 37 Comforts of High Living, i. 324 Comforts of Matrimony: a Good Toast, ii. 134 Comfortable Nap in a Post Chaise, A, i. 239 Compassion, 14; ii. 2 Compendious Treatise of Modern Education, ii. 41-2 Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox: Scene the Last, ii. 278-9 Connoisseurs, i. 364, 366 Consequence, The, of not Shifting the Leg, i. 349-50 Consultation, The, or Last Hope, ii. 84 Contrast, The, 1792. Which is Best (British Liberty, French do.)? i. 317-18 Conversazione, ii. 214 Convocation, i. 312 Cook's Prayer, The, ii. 33 'Cooks, scullions, hear me, every mother's son!' 'Peter Pindar,' i. 204. Copperplate Printers at Work, i. 167 Cornwall, Series of Views in, ii. 239-46 Corporal in Good Quarters, The, ii. 39-40 Corsican and his Bloodhounds at the Window of the Tuileries looking over Paris, The, ii. 292-3 Corsican Munchausen Humming the Lads of Paris, The, ii. 261 Corsican Nurse Soothing the Infants of Spain, The, ii. 94 Corsican Spider in his Web, The, ii. 94 Corsican Tiger at Bay, The, ii. 93 Corsican Toad under a Harrow, The, ii. 259 Council of War Interrupted, A ('Narrative of the War'), i. 320 Counsellor, A, ii. 22-3 Counsellor and Client, i. 145 Country Cart Horses, i. 150 Country Characters: a series, ii. 13 Country Club, ii. 58, 214 Country Inn, i. 213 Country Simplicity, i. 199 Couple of Antiquities, A, ii. 83 Court Canvass of Madame Blubber, i. 130 Courtship in High Life, i. 170 Courtship in Low Life, i. 170 Covent Garden Nightmare, The, i. 129 Covent Garden Theatre, i. 192 Cribbage Players, i. 222 Cries of London, i. 354; ii. 198 Crimes of the Clergy, ii. 373 Crimping a Quaker, ii. 276-7 Crow, The, and the Pigeon, i. 368 Cully pillaged, A, i. 167 Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 225 Cupid's Magic Lantern, i. 332 Curtain Lecture, A, ii. 16 Cure for Lying and a bad Memory, A, ii. 75, 77 Damp Sheets, i. 293-5 Dance of Death, ii. 317, 355 Dance of Life, The (with 28 coloured engravings by T. Rowlandson), ii. 359-61 Daniel Lambert, the Wonderful Great Pumpkin of Little Britain, ii. 59-60 Dasher, A, or the Road to Ruin in the West, i. 371 Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place, or a Kept Mistress in High Feather, ii. 147 Deadly-Lively, ii. 298 Death and Buonaparte, ii. 272 Death of Madame République, The, ii. 47 Deer Hunting: a landscape scene, i. 222 Defeat of the High and Mighty Balissimo and his Cecilian Forces on the Plains of St. Martin's, i. 153 Defrauding the Customs, or Shipping Goods not fairly entered, ii. 289-90 Delicate Finish to a French (Corsican) Usurper, A, ii. 281 Délices de la Grande Bretagne, Les, i. 305 Delicate Investigation, The, ii. 135-62 Delineations of Nautical Characters, i. 362 Departure, The, i. 140 Departure from the Coast, or the End of the Farce of Invasion, ii. 52 Departure of La Fleur, The, ii. 217 Description of a Boxing Match, June 9, 1806, ii. 84 Description of a Boxing Match for 100 guineas a side between Ward and Quirk, ii. 226 Design for a Monument to be Erected in Commemoration of the Great, Glorious, and Never-to-be-Forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably Planned and Executed in the year 1809. (Gen. Chatham's Expedition.) ii. 164 Desire (No. 1), ii. 1 Desire (No. 2), ii. 1-2 Despair, i. 20; ii. 2-3 Despatch, or Jack Preparing for Sea, ii. 298 Detection, The, i. 328 Devil's Darling, The, ii. 278 Devonshire, The, or Most Approved Method of Securing Votes, i. 126 Devotee, A, i. 366 Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites, ii. 44 Die Reise des Doktor Syntax, um das Malerische aufzusuchen. Ein Gedicht frei aus dem Englischen ins Deutsche übertragen, ii. 373 Dinner, The, i. 223 Dinners Dressed in the Neatest Manner, ii. 215 Dinner Hunt, The, i. 333 Dinner Spoiled, The, ii. 14 Directions to Footmen, ii. 82 Disappointed Epicures, ii. 131 Discovery, The, i. 352; ii. 84, 130 Dissolution of Partnership, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts, ii. 145-6 Distillers Looking into their own Business, ii. 214 Distress, i. 372-4 Diver, A, ii. 43 Diving Machine on a New Construction, A, ii. 60 Doctor, ii. 14 Doctor Botherum, the Mountebank, ii. 3-5 Doctor Convex and Lady Concave, ii. 41 Doctors Differ, i. 170 Doctor Drainbarrel Conveyed Home in a Wheelbarrow in order to take his Trial for Neglect of Family Duty, ii. 194-5 Doctor Gallipot placing his Fortune at the Feet of his Mistress, ii. 91, 193 Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family after Preaching before Royalty, ii. 155 Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque (with 31 illustrations by T. Rowlandson), ii. 176, 247-52 Doctor Syntax in the middle of a smoking hot political squabble wishes to wet his whistle, ii. 266-7 Dog Days, The, ii. 228 Dog Fight, A, ii. 206-7 Dog and the Devil, The, ii. 33 Doleful Disaster, A; or Miss Tubby Tatarmin's Wig Caught Fire, ii. 255 Domestic Shaving, i. 258 Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites, ii. 368 Don Luigi's Ball, ii. 305 Don Quichotte Romantique, Le, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la Recherche du Pittoresque et du Romantique, ii. 368 Don't he Deserve it? i. 261 Double Disaster, or New Cure for Love, The, ii. 77 Double Humbug, The, or the Devil's Imp Praying for Peace, ii. 271 Do you want any Brick-dust? i. 354 Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal, ii. 191 Draught Horse, The, ii. 214 Dray Horses, Draymen, and Maltsters, i. 150 Dressing for a Birthday (Ladies), i. 272 Dressing for a Masquerade (Cyprians), i. 272 Dressing Room at Brighton, A, i. 280 Dropsy Courting Consumption, ii. 193 Drum-Major of Sedition, The, i. 121 Ducking a Scold, ii. 43 Ducking Stool, The, ii. 229 Duenna and Little Isaac, The, i. 282 Dull Husband, A, i. 267 Dutch Academy, A, i. 306-7 Dutch Merchants, sketched at Amsterdam, i. 331 Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug Returned with a Dutch Squeeze, ii. 260-1 Dying Patient, The, or Doctor's Last Fee, i. 183 Early, An, Lesson in Marching, i. 325 Easter Hunt--Clearing a Fence, ii. 78 Easterly Winds, or Scudding under Bare Poles, ii. 186 Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt, ii. 208, 295 Eating House, An, ii. 296 Edward the Black Prince Receiving Homage, i. 249 Effects of Harmony, i. 326 Effects of the Ninth Day's Express from Covent Garden just Arrived at Cheltenham, i. 229 Election, the Westminster, i. 128-43 Elegance, ii. 33 Embarking from Brighthelmstone to Dieppe, i. 221 Emmanuel College, Cambridge. A Nobleman presenting a collection of Busts, ii. 184 Emmanuel College Garden, Cambridge, ii. 184 Engelbach, 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 257, 301-8 English Address, The, i. 231 English Barracks, i. 294 English Curiosity, or the Foreigner Stared out of Countenance, i. 145, 322-3 English Dance of Death, ii. 317-55 English Exhibitions in Paris, or French People Astonished at our Improvement in the Breed of Fat Cattle, ii. 237 Englishman in Paris, ii. 78-9 English Manner and French Prudence, or French Dragoons brought to a Check by a Belvoir Leap. A Scene after Nature near Ciudad Rodrigo, ii. 215-16 English Review, i. 10 English Spy, ii. 378-9 English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover, i. 179, 312 Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonson, The, ii. 205 Enraged Vicar, ii. 66-7 E O, or the Fashionable Vowels, i. 101-2 Epicure, An, i. 238-9; ii. 22 Epicure's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Epicurium, ii. 11. Epilogue, Captain (Topham), i. 158, 165-7, 183, 190 Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, An, i. 165 Etching, An, after Raphael Urbina, i. 364 Evening, i. 280-1 Evening. A Drive on the Sands, ii. 6 Evening, or the Man of Feeling, ii. 214 Evergreen, An, ii. 58 Every Man has his Hobby-Horse, i. 135 Exciseman, ii. 14 Excursion, An, to Brighthelmstone made in the year 1782 by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson, i. 276-9 Execution of two Celebrated Enemies of Old England and their Dying Speeches, ii. 260 Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Buonaparte's Carriage, taken at Waterloo, ii. 309 Exhibition 'Stare Case,' Somerset House, ii. 217-8 Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, i. 320 Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley's Magic Lantern, ii. 61 Extraordinary Scene on the Road from London to Portsmouth, An, i. 349 Fall of Achilles, The, i. 152 Fall of Dagon, The, or Rare News for Leadenhall Street, i. 112 Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax, ii. 58 Family Picture ('Vicar of Wakefield'), ii. 358 Family Piece, A, ii. 222 Famous Coalheaver, The, Black Charley Looking into the Mouth of the Wonderful Coal Pit, ii. 49 Fancy, ii. 33 Fancyana, ii. 10 Fashion, ii. 33 Fashions of the Day, or 1784, i. 147 Fashionable Suit, A, ii. 15 Fast Day, ii. 226 Female Gambler's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Female Intrepidity, or the Heroic Maiden, ii. 365 Female Politicians, ii. 289 Fencing Match, A, i. 239 Feyge Dam, with part of the Fish Market, at Amsterdam, i. 330-1 Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' i. 304 Fifth Clause, The, or Effect of Example, ii. 50 Figure Subjects for Landscapes, Groups, and Views, ii. 312 Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green, i. 171 Filial Piety (P. W. and George III.), i. 229 _Fille mal Gardé_, or Jack in the Box, ii. 36, 37 Finishing School, A, ii. 54, 55 First Stage from Calais, i. 179, 312 First Stage from Dover, i. 179, 312 Fisherman's Family, The, i. 215, 217 Flags of Truth and Lies, ii. 43 Flight of Buonaparte from Hell Bay, The, ii. 291 Flora, ii. 12 Flower of the City, The, ii. 157 Flowers for your Garden, i. 356 Flying Waggon, ii. 315 Foote's 'Minor,' i. 125 Footman, ii. 14 Foreigner, The, Stared out of Countenance, i. 145, 322-3 Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack Shaking Hands with an old Acquaintance, i. 368 For the Benefit of the Champion, i. 142 Fort, The, ii. 298 Four in Hand, A, i. 300 Four o'clock in the Country, i. 281-2 Four o'clock in Town, i. 280-1 Four Seasons of Love, The: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, ii. 286 Fox and the Grapes, The, ii. 97 Fox-Hunters Relaxing, i. 280 Fox-Hunting, i. 222 Free and Easy, i. 59 French Barracks, i. 294 French Dentist Showing a Specimen of his Artificial Teeth and False Palates, A, ii. 201 French Family, A; (_see_ An Italian Family), i. 58, 170, 272-3 French Inn, ii. 214 French Ordinary, A, ii. 1, 44, 45 French Review, i. 11 French Travelling, or the First Stage from Calais, i. 179, 312 Fresh Breeze, A, i. 258-9. Freshwater Salute, A, i. 371 Friendly Accommodation, ii. 35 Friends and Foes, up he Goes: Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Cloud, ii. 262-3 Frog-Hunting, i. 269-70 From the Desk to the Throne. A New Quick Step, by Joseph Buonaparte. The Bass by Messrs. Nappy and Talley, ii. 95 Frontispiece to Tegg's 'Complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the Circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of H.R.H. the Duke of York before the House of Commons,' 1809, ii. 145 Front View of Christ Church, Oxford, ii. 184-5 Funking the Corsican, ii. 262 Funeralorum, ii. 11 Fuseli's 'Nightmare' (parody on), i. 129 Gambado. An Academy for Grown Horsemen, ii. 102-15, 181 Gambling Tables, i. 101-3 Game, A, at Put in a Country Alehouse, i. 368 Gamester going to Bed, The, ii. 208, 210 Gardiner, Sir Alan, 327 General Chatham's marvellous Return from his Expedition of Fireworks, ii. 164-5 General Discharge, A, or the Darling Angel's Finishing Stroke, ii. 153 German Waltz, The (_see_ 'The Sorrows of Werter'), ii. 57 Get Money, &c., ii. 90 Gig-hauling, or Gentlemanly Amusement for the Nineteenth Century, ii. 34 Gig-Shop, The, or Kicking up a Breeze at Nell Hamilton's Hop, ii. 199-200 Gilpin's Return to London, i. 174 Giving up the Ghost, or one too many, ii. 267 'Ghost of my Departed Husband, whither art thou gone?' ii. 267 Ghost, A, in the Wine-Cellar, ii. 6 Glee, A: 'How shall we Mortals pass our Hours? In Love, in War, in Drinking?' ii. 168 Glorious Victory, The, obtained over the French Fleet off the Nile, August 1, 1798, by the gallant Admiral Lord Nelson of the Nile, i. 350 Glow-Worms, ii. 55, 231 Glutton, The, ii. 265 'Going! Going!' i. 164; ii. 267 Going to Ride St. George. A Pantomime lately performed at Kensington before their Majesties, i. 226 Going in State to the House of Peers, or a Piece of English Magnificence, i. 247 Golden Apple, The, or the Modern Paris, i. 152 Gone, i. 164 Good Night, i. 370 Good Speculation, A, i. 366 Grand Battle, The, between the famous English Cock and Russian Hen, i. 290-1 Grand Master, The, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan, by Quiz, ii. 299-301 Grand Monarque Discovered, or the Royal Fugitives Turning Tail, ii. 393 Grandpapa, The, i. 313, 320 Grand Procession to St. Paul's, The, on St. George's Day, 1789, i. 252 Gratification of the Senses _à la mode Française_ (Seeing, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling, Feeling), ii. 10 Great Cry and Little Wool, i. 109 Green Dragon, The, ii. 84 Grinning Match, i. 372 Grog on Board, i. 168, 253-4, 323 Grotesque Border for Rooms and Halls, ii. 10 Grotesque Drawing Book (40 illustrations), ii. 362 Gull, The, and the Rook, i. 368 Hackney Assembly. 'The Graces, the Graces, remember the Graces!' ii. 235-6 Halt at a Cottage Door, i. 349 Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion, The, i. 123 Hard Passage, A, or Boney Playing Bass on the Continent, ii. 98 Harmonic Society, The, ii. 195, 217 Harmony: Effects of Harmony, i. 174-5, 326 Hatred or Jealousy, ii. 1 Hawks and a Pigeon, i. 47 Haymakers, i. 214 Hazardorum, ii. 112 Head of the Family in Good Humour, The, ii. 130 Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzic Fair, ii. 276-7 Hearts for the Year 1800, ii. 6 Hell Broke Loose; or the Devil to Pay among the Darling Angels, ii. 160 Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France, ii. 291 'Here's your Potatoes, four full pound for Two-pence,' ii. 34 He won't be a Soldier, i. 349 Higglers' Carts, i. 150 High Bailiff for Westminster, The, i. 140, 153-4 High Fun for John Bull, or the Republicans, i. 352 High-Mettled Racer, The, i. 261 Highness the Protector, His, i. 114 Hindoo Incantations--A View in Elephanta, ii. 300 Hiring a Servant, ii. 220 Historian Animating the Mind of a Young Painter, The, i. 150 History of Johnny Quæ Genus, The. The Little Foundling of the late Doctor Syntax, ii. 371-3 'History of Tom Jones, a Foundling,' ii. 55-6 Hit at Backgammon, A, ii. 193 Hocus Pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone, ii. 5 Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates, ii. 290 Holy Friar, The, ii. 72-3 Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat at Home for the Holidays, ii. 167, 267 Horror, i. 16; ii. 2 Horse Accomplishments, i. 366 Hospital for Lunatics, i. 247 Hot Cross Buns--Two a Penny--Buns, i. 356 Hot Goose, Cabbage, and Cucumbers, ii. 374 Housebreakers, i. 233-4, 293 How to Escape Losing, i. 297 How to Escape Winning, i. 297 How to Pluck a Goose, ii. 36 How to Vault into the Saddle, or a new-invented Patent Crane for the Accommodation of Rheumatic Rectors, ii. 265 'Hudibras.' 5 Illus. by Wm. Hogarth, ii. 174 Human Life, Miseries of, ii. 71, 119-24, 166 Humbugging, or Raising the Devil, ii. 5 _Humourist, The_, with 50 engravings, &c., after designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson, ii. 380-6 Humours of Houndsditch, or Mrs. Shevi in a Longing Condition, ii. 254-5 Humours of St. Giles's, The, i. 223, 225 Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise, i. 374 Hunting Series, i. 223 Huntsman Rising, The, ii. 208-9 Hunt the Slipper: Picnic Revels, ii. 41 Hypochondriac, The, i. 314, 316 Illustrations to Poems of Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot), i. 192 Imitations of Modern Drawings, i. 151 Imperial Coronation, The, ii. 44-6 Imperial Stride, An, i. 290 In at the Death, i. 223 Incurable, The: 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground,' i. 124 Infant Hercules, The, i. 115 Inn Yard on Fire, i. 300-2 Inside View of the Public Library, Cambridge, ii. 184 Interior of a Clockmaker's Shop, i. 109 Interior of Simon Ward, _alias_ St. Brewer's Church, Cornwall, ii. 63. Interruption, or Inconveniences of a Lodging House, i. 256 Introduction, i. 162 Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed, i. 169, ii. 38. Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary, i. 249 Do. do. do. Return, or Bulls without Horns, i. 251 Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary, The, a Galantee Show, i. 248-9 Irish Baronet, The, and his Nurse, i. 368 Irish Giant, The, i. 154-5 Irish Howl, An, _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 362-3 Irish Jaunting Car, ii. 282 'I Smell a Rat,' or a Rogue in Grain, ii. 73 'Is this your Louse?' ('Peter Pindar'), i. 201 Italian Affectation. Real Characters, i. 98 Italian Family, An. (_See_ A French Family), i. 58, 170, 314-5 Italian Picture-Dealers Humbugging Milord Anglaise, ii. 228-30 Jack Tar Admiring the Fair Sex, ii. 297 Jew Broker, A, ii. 22, 24 Jews at Luncheon, i. 324-5 Jockey Club, The, or Newmarket Meeting, ii. 214 Jockey's Prayer, The, ii. 32 Jockeyship, i. 170; ii. 39 Johanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Excommunicating the Bishops, ii. 217 John Bull and the Genius of Corruption, ii. 159 John Bull at the Italian Opera, ii. 52-3, 212 John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs, ii. 43 John Bull making Observations on the Comet, ii. 83 John Bull Arming the Spaniards, ii. 101 John Bull's Turnpike Gate, ii. 50-1 Joint Stock Street, ii. 168 Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France, ii. 368-70 Journeyman Tailor, A, ii. 296 Jovial Crew, The, i. 192 Joy with Tranquillity, i. 81-2 Junot Disgorging his Booty, ii. 101 Justice, A, ii. 13 Kick-up at a Hazard Table, A, i. 273-4 Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow Women Basting a Beadle, ii. 274 Killing with Kindness, ii. 15 King Joe and Co. making the most of their time previous to quitting Madrid, ii. 99 King Joe's Retreat from Madrid, ii. 96 King Joe on his Spanish Donkey, ii. 96 King's Place, or a View of Mr. Fox's Best Friends, i. 132 Kissing for Love, or Captain Careless Shot Flying, ii. 186 Kitchen-Stuff, ii. 193 Kitty Careless in Quod, or Waiting for Jew Bail, ii. 202-3 La Fleur and the Dead Ass, ii. 173 Lady Hamilton at Home, or a Neapolitan Ambassador, ii. 310-12 Lady in Limbo, A, or Jew Bail Rejected, ii. 37 Lamentable Case of a Juryman, A, ii. 290 Landing Place, A, ii. 315 Land Stores, ii. 226 Last Drop, The, ii. 203 Last Dying Speech and Confession, i. 354 Last Gasp, The, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms, ii. 254 Last Jig, The, or Adieu to Old England, ii. 363 Last Shift, The, ii. 90 Late Hours, ii. 14 Laughter, ii. 2 Launching a Frigate, ii. 130-1 Lawyerorum, ii. 12, 13 Learned Scotchman, The, or Magistrate's Mistake, ii. 236 Lecture on Heads, by Geo. Alex. Stevens, ii. 117-18 Legerdemain, i. 369 'Letters from Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 Letter-Writer, The, ii. 303 Libel Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press, ii. 182 Liberty and Fame Introducing Female Patriotism (Duchess of Devonshire) to Britannia, i. 141 Life and Death of the Race Horse, ii. 211-12 Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster, Reviewed by His Majesty on Wimbledon Common, July 5, 1798, i. 349 Light Infantry Volunteers on a March, ii. 44 Light Summer Hat and Fashionable Walking Stick, ii. 33 Light Volunteers on a March, ii. 44 'Light, your Honour. Coach unhired,' ii. 34 Little Bigger, A, i. 293 Little Tighter, A, i. 292-3 London in Miniature, ii. 125, 128 London Outrider, or Brother Saddlebag, ii. 14 Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together, A, ii. 258-9 London Refinement, i. 199 Long Sermons and Long Stories are apt to lull the Senses, i. 107 Looking at the Comet till you get a Crick in the Neck, ii. 210-11 Loose Principles, i. 245 Loose Thoughts, i. 371 Lords of the Bedchamber, i. 128 Loss of Eden and Eden Lost, The. Gen. Arnold and Eden Lord Auckland, i. 173 Lottery Office Keeper's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Lousiad, The, i. 200 Love, i. 328 Love in Caricature, i. 353 Love and Dust, i. 234-7; ii. 189 Love in the East, i. 218, 220 Loves of the Fox and the Badger, or the Coalition Wedding, i. 112 Love and Learning, or the Oxford Scholar, i. 182 Love Laughs at Locksmiths, ii. 209 Loyal, The, Volunteers of London, i. 375-7 Lump of Impertinence, A, ii. 166 Lump of Innocence, A, ii. 166 Lunardi, Vincent, i. 163-4 Lust and Avarice, i. 236-7 Luxury and Desire, i. 237 Luxury and Misery, i. 106, 185, 325 Lying-in Visit, A, i. 307; ii. 313 Macassar Oil, or an Oily Puff for Soft Heads, ii. 284 Madame Blubber, i. 127, 129-30, 134 Madame Blubber on her Canvass, i. 129 Madame Blubber's Last Shift, or the Aerostatic Dilly, i. 134 Mad Dog in a Coffee House, A, ii. 131-2 Mad Dog in a Dining Room, A, ii. 131, 133 Mahomedan Paradise, A, i. 352 Maid of all Work's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire, A, ii. 58 Maiden Speech, The, i. 165 Maiden's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Major Topham (of the _World_) and the rising genius of Holman, i. 320 Man of Fashion's Journal, A, ii. 35 Man of Feeling, The, ii. 83, 216 Manager (Garrick) and Spouter, ii. 390 Manager's Last Kick, The, or a New Way to Pay Old Debts, ii. 219 Mansion House Monitor (_Poetical Magazine_), ii. 176 March to the Camp, i. 370 Margate, ii. 6 Masquerading, ii. 209-11 Master Billy's Procession to Grocers' Hall, i. 119 Master of the Ceremonies, A, Introducing a Partner, i. 326 Matrimonial Comforts (a series), ii. 14 Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve, ii. 295-6 Medical Despatch, or Doctor Double-Dose Killing two Birds with one Stone, ii. 194 Meet, The: Hunting Morning, i. 223-4 Melopoyn Haranguing the Prisoners in the Fleet. 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 -- (a distressed poet) and the Manager, i. 320 Melpomene in the Dumps, ii. 46-7 Mercury and his Advocates Defeated, or Vegetable Intrenchment, i. 267 Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature, ii. 125-8 Midwife going to a Labour, A, ii. 199 Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome, ii. 312 Militia Meeting, A, i. 372 Milksop, A, ii. 216 Miller's Waggon, i. 150 Minister's Ass, The, i. 143 Miseries of Bathing, ii. 83 Miseries of the Country, ii. 78 -- of Human Life (50 illustrations), ii. 71, 119-24, 166 -- of London: 'Going out to Dinner,' &c., ii. 64-5 -- -- or a Surly Hackney Coachman, ii. 284 -- -- 'Watermen,' ii. 231-2 -- Personal: 'After Dinner, when the Ladies Retire,' ii. 75-6 -- of Travelling--A Hailstorm, ii. 217 -- -- an Overloaded Coach, ii. 66 Miser's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Misery, i. 185, 325 Mistake, The, ii. 162 -- at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety, A, ii. 78 Mistress Bundle in a Rage, or too late for the Stage, ii. 130 Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods, ii. 264 Mock Phoenix, The, or a Vain Attempt to Rise again, ii. 262 Mock Turtle, i. 152; ii. 237 Modern Antiques, ii. 223 Modern Babel, or Giants Crushed by a Weight of Evidence, ii. 157-8 Modern Education, ii. 41, 47 Modern Egbert, The, or the King of Kings, i. 243 Modern Hercules Clearing the Augean Stables, The, ii. 49 Modish, i. 220 Monastic Fare, ii. 71-2 Money-Lenders, i. 148 -- Scrivener, A, ii. 22 Monkey Merchant, A, ii. 63 Monstrous Craws, or a New-Discovered Animal, ii. 35 More of the Clarke, or Fresh Accusations, ii. 161 -- Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey Broke through, ii. 83 -- Scotchmen, or Johnny Macree Opening his New Budget, ii. 75 _Morning_--Breakfast at Michiner's Grand Hotel, ii. 6 Morning Dram, The, i. 186 -- or the Man of Taste, ii. 214 Mother Cole and Loader, i. 125 Mother's Hope, The, ii. 86-7 Muck-Worms, ii. 55, 231 Munchausen's Surprising Adventures, ii. 175 Munchausen at Walcheren, ii. 224 Munro, Dr. i. 233 Murphy Delaney, ii. 75 Musical Doctor and his Scholars, A, ii. 297 -- Family, A, ii. 39 My Ass, ii. 295 My Aunt and my Uncle, ii. 83 Nap in the Country, i. 175 Nap in Town (companion), i. 175-6 Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever on Receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets, ii. 53, 55 Nap Dreading his Doleful Doom, or his Grand Entry into the Isle of Elba, ii. 281 -- and his Friends in their Glory, ii. 100-1 Napoleon le Grand, ii. 263-4 -- the Little in a Rage with his great French Eagle, ii. 98 Nap and his Partner Joe, ii. 99 Narrative of the War, i. 328-9 Nautical Characters, i. 362 Naval Triumph, or Favours Conferred, i. 99 Neddy's Black Box, i. 245 Négligé, La. Desig. by 'Simplex Mundities,' i. 183 Neighbours, ii. 296 New French Phantasmagoria, A, ii. 47 -- Invented Elastic Breeches, i. 148; ii. 236 -- Sentimental Journal, ii. 362 -- Shoes, i. 320, 324 -- Speaker, A, i. 246-7 -- Tap Wanted, A, or Work for the Plumber, ii. 182-3 Newspaper, The, ii. 10 Nice Fish, i. 238-9; ii. 22 Night Auction, A, i. 233 _Night_--At the Bazaars, Raffling for Prizes, ii. 6 Nincompoop, or Henpecked Husband, A, ii. 69, 70 None but the Brave deserve the Fair, ii. 255 _Noon_--Dining, Margate, ii. 6 Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony, ii. 257 Not at Home, or a Disappointed Dinner-Hunter, ii. 374 Note of Hand, A, i. 369 Nunina, ii. 11 Nursery, The, i. 371 Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant; or Frenchmen Sick of the Breed, ii. 204-5 Odd Fellows from Downing Street Complaining to John Bull, ii. 88 Oddities, i. 306 Odes for the New Year, i. 209 Off She Goes, ii. 237 Officer. The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome, ii. 298-9 Old Angel at Islington, The, i. 319 -- Cantwell Canvassing for Lord Janus (Hood), i. 228 -- Ewe Dressed Lamb Fashion, An, ii. 193 -- Maid's Prayer, The, ii. 30 -- Maid in Search of a Flea, i. 320, 324 -- Man of the Sea, The, sticking to the Shoulders of Sindbad the Sailor. _Vide_ the 'Arabian Nights' Entertainments.' (Burdett and Horne Tooke), ii. 74 -- Member, An, on his Road to the House of Commons, ii. 33 -- Poacher Caught in a Snare, An, ii. 374 -- Woman's Complaint, The, or the Greek Alphabet, ii. 130 On her Last Legs, i. 310 Opening a Vein, i. 150 Opera Boxes (4 plates), i. 177-8 Oratorio, ii. 6 Ordnance Dreams, or Planning Fortifications, i. 183-4 Original Drawings by Rowlandson, ii. Appendix Outré Compliments, i. 192 Oxford, Front View of Christ Church, ii. 184-5 'Oh! you're a Devil, get along, do!' ii. 134-5 Pantheon, i. 283-4, 256-7, 308 Paris Diligence, ii. 189 Parish Officer's Journal, A, ii. 36 Parliamentary Toast, A, 'Here's to the Lady,' &c., ii. 148 Parody on Milton, A, ii. 198 -- The, or Mother Cole and Loader, i. 125 Parson and the Clarke, The, ii. 154 Pastime in Portugal, or a Visit to the Nunneries, ii. 203 Patience in a Punt, ii. 222 Paviour, A, i. 366 Pea-cart, The, i. 241 Peace and Plenty, ii. 282-3 Peasant Playing the Flute (after J. Mortimer), i. 150 Peep into Bethlehem, A, ii. 13 -- into Friar Bacon's Study, A, i. 119 -- at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall, A, ii. 167-8 Penny Barber, A, i. 257 Penserosa, ii. 11 Persons and Property Protected by Authority, i. 168 Peter's Pension ('Peter Pindar'), i. 207 Peter Plumb's Diary, ii. 187-8 Petersham, Lord, ii. 225 Petitioning Candidate for Westminster, The, i. 143 Petticoat Loose, a Fragmentary Poem, ii. 238 Philip Quarrel (Thicknesse), the English Hermit, &c., i. 275 Philosophorum, ii. 10 Philosophy run Mad, or a Stupendous Monument to Human Wisdom, i. 312-13 Physicorum, ii. 11 Picture of Misery, A, ii. 204 Pictures of Prejudice, ii. 6 Pigeon-Hole, a Covent Garden Contrivance to Coop up the Gods, ii. 200-1 Piece-Offering, A. Memoirs, Life, Letters, &c., of Mrs. Clarke, ii. 159 Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place, A, or the Bishop in an Ecstasy, ii. 148 Pilgrims and the Peas, The, ii. 71 Pit of Acheron, The, or the Birth of the Plagues of England, i. 111-12 Pitt Fall, The, i. 243 Place de Mer, Antwerp, i. 331 -- des Victoires, à Paris, La, i. 262-6 Plan for a General Reform, A, ii. 165 Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place, ii. 156-7 Platonic Love. 'None but the Brave Deserve the Fair,' ii. 74 Pleasures of Human Life, The, ii. 83, 180, 362 -- of Margate, ii. 6 Plot Thickens, The, or Diamond Cut Diamond, ii. 161 Plucking a Spooney, ii. 225 'Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe,' ii. 261 _Poetical Magazine_, ii. 175-8 -- Sketches of Scarborough, ii. 268-9 Polish Dwarf, The (Borowlowski), Performing before the Grand Seigneur, i. 186 Politesse Française, La, or the English Ladies' Petition to his Excellency the Mushroom Ambassador, i. 145 Political Affection, i. 133 -- Butcher, The, or Spain Cutting up Buonaparte for the Benefit of his Neighbours, ii. 96 -- Chemist and German Retorts, or Dissolving the Rhenish Confederacy, ii. 263 -- Hydra, The, i. 231; ii. 58 Poll, The, i. 127 -- of Portsmouth's Prayer, ii. 33 Pomfret, Lord, ii. 225 Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte, The, or Napoleon brought to his last Stool, ii. 163 Portsmouth Point, ii. 284-6 Post Boys and Post Horses at the 'White Hart Inn,' i. 222 Post-chaise, A, i. 150, 217 Post Inn, i. 213 Power of Reflection, The, i. 100-1 Pray Remember the Blind, ii. 34 Preaching to some Purpose, ii. 236 Preceptor and Pupil, i. 140 Preparations for the Academy. Old Nollekens and his Venus, ii. 16-19 Preparations for the Jubilee; or Theatricals Extraordinary, ii. 166 Preparing for the Race, ii. 221 -- to Start, ii. 220-1 -- for Supper, i. 279-80 Print Sale, A (Hutchins, Auctioneer, and his Wife), i. 233 Private Amusement, i. 102, 180 Privates Drilling, i. 319 Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate, ii. 190 Procession of a Country Corporation, i. 366-8 Procession to the Hustings, i. 134-5 Prodigal Son's Resignation, The, ii. 155 Progress of the Emperor Napoleon, The, ii. 101 Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest, ii. 275-6 Propagation of a Truth, The, i. 244 Prophecy explained:--'And there are seven Kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space,' ii. 98 Prospect before us, The (Half-a-crown Regency), i. 230 Prospect before us, The (Pantheon), i. 283-4, 286-87 Prospect before us, The (Companion), i. 285-87 Prudent, i. 221 Publican, A, ii. 13 Publican's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Publicorum, ii. 11 Pugin, ii. 125-8 Puff Paste, ii. 237 Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise, ii. 204 Q. A. Q. Loaded with the Spoils of India, i. 226 Quaix de Paris, ii. 214 Quack Doctor's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Quaker and the Clarke, The, ii. 159 -- and the Commissioners of Excise, The, ii. 265 Quarter-day, or Clearing the Premises without Consulting your Landlord, ii. 274 Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-Gatherers, ii. 49 Quay, The, i. 20 Queer Fish, ii. 42 Rabbit Merchant, ii. 197 Racing, ii. 230-1 Racing Series. The Course, i. 260 " The Betting Post, i. 258-9 " The Mount, i. 261 " The Start, i. 258-9 Rag Fair, ii. 33 Rainbow Tavern, in Fleet Street, in 1800, ii. 19 Raising the Wind: 'When Noblemen,' &c., ii. 53, 233-5 Rapture, ii. 1 Reconciliation, or the Return from Scotland, i. 171-2 Recovery of a Dormant Title, or a Breeches Maker become a Lord, ii. 51 Recruits, ii. 42, 214 Recruiting, ii. 314 -- on a Broadbottom'd Principle, ii. 59 Refinement of Language. A Timber Merchant, &c., ii. 233 Reform Advised, Reform Begun, Reform Complete, i. 319 Reformation, or the Wonderful Effects of a Proclamation, i. 220 Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand Farquhar, ii. 317 Repeal of the Test Act, i. 270-1 Resignation, The, or John Bull Overwhelmed with Grief, ii. 154 Rest from Labour. Sunny Days, i. 150 Return from Sport, i. 189 -- from a Walk, A, ii. 15 Reynard put to his Shifts, i. 132 Rhedarium, The, i. 101 Richardson's Show, ii. 312-13 Richmond Hill, ii. 42, 214 Ride to Rumford, A, i. 371 Rigging out a Smuggler, ii. 190-1 Rising Sun, The, or a View of the Continent, ii. 162-3 Rival Candidates, The, i. 124 Rivals, The, ii. 231, 284 Road to Preferment, The, through Clarke's Passage, ii. 149 -- to Ruin, ii. 43 Roadside Inn, A, i. 269 Rochester Address, or the Corporation going to Eat Roast Pork and Oysters with the Regent, i. 251 'Roderick Random.' Lieutenant Bowling Pleading the Cause of Young Roy to his Grandfather, i. 308-10 -- -- The Passengers from the Waggon arriving at the Inn, i. 310-11 Rogue's March, The, ii. 279 Rosedale, John, Mariner, exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital, ii. 76 Rotation Office, A, i. 96 Rough Sketch of the Times as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett, A, ii. 365 Round Dance, A, ii. 314 Royal Academy, Somerset House, ii. 216 Ruins of the Pantheon after the Fire which happened Jan. 14, 1792, i. 308 Rum Characters in a Shrubbery, ii. 91 Run, The, i. 223 Rural Halt, A, i. 214 -- Sports: Balloon-Hunting, ii. 215 -- -- Buck-Hunting, ii. 287-8 -- -- A Cat in a Bowl, ii. 205-6 -- -- or a Cricket Match Extraordinary, ii. 214 -- -- or a Game at Quoits, ii. 212 Rural Sports; or how to show off a well-shaped Leg, ii. 212-3 -- -- A Milling Match: Cribb and Molineaux, ii. 212 -- -- or an Old Mole-Catcher, ii. 208 -- -- or a Pleasant Way of Making Hay, ii. 284 -- -- Smock-Racing, ii. 212-13 Rustic Courtship, i. 171 -- Recreations, ii. 316 Rusty Bacon, ii. 80, 82 Sad Discovery, The, or the Graceless Apprentice, i. 170 Sadness, ii. 2 Sagacious Buck, The, or Effects of Waterproof, ii. 214 Sailors Carousing, i. 188-9 -- Drinking the Tunbridge Waters, ii. 290 -- on Horseback, ii, 202 Sailor's Journal, The, ii. 35-6 Sailor Mistaken, A, ii. 34 Sailor's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Sailors Regaling, ii. 6 Sailor's Will, A, ii. 51 St. James's and St. Giles's, i. 306, 324 St. James's Courtship, i. 364 St. Giles's Courtship, i. 364-5 Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies, A (after James Gillray), ii. 197 Salisbury, Lord, K. of Würtemburg, and D. of Gloucester, i. 327-8 Saloon at the Pavilion, Brighton, i. 276 Salt Water, ii. 41 Sampson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah, ii. 154 Samuel House, Sir, i. 98-9 Scandal: Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the Evidence and Remarks of the Members, ii. 181 Scarborough, Poetical Sketches of, ii. 269 Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life, ii. 71, 84 Scene in a New Pantomime to be Performed at the Theatre Royal of Paris, ii. 292 -- at Streatham: Bozzi and Piozzi, i. 97 -- from the Tragedy of 'Cato,' A, ii. 150 School of Eloquence, The, i. 98 'School for Scandal,' The, i. 228-9 Schoolmaster's Tour, The, ii. 176 Scorn, ii. 2 Scotch Ostrich Seeking Cover, The, ii. 51 -- Sarcophagus, A, ii. 50 Scottifying the Palate, i. 195 Sea Amusement, or Commander-in-Chief of Cup and Ball on a Cruize, i. 176-7 Searched by Douaniers on the French Frontier, ii. 370 Sea Stores, ii. 226 Seaman's Wife's Reckoning, A. ii. 231 Secret History of Crim. Con., The, plates I., II., ii. 231 Secret Influence Directing the New Parliament, i. 140-1 Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation, The, ii. 367 Select Vestry, A, ii. 58 Sentinel, The, Mistakes Tom Jones for an Apparition, ii. 56 Sentimental Journey, The, ii. 10, 169-74 Sergeant Recruiter (Duc d'Orleans), i. 252-3 Series, A, of Miniature Groups and Scenes, i. 282 -- of Small Landscapes, i. 324 Setting out for Margate, ii. 231, 233. Seven Stages of Man's Schooling, ii. 397 She don't Deserve it, i. 261 -- Stoops to Conquer, ii. 201, 202 -- will be a Soldier, i. 349 Sheets of Borders for Halls, i. 364 -- of Picturesque Etchings.--Cattle at the River. The Horse Race. A View in Cornwall. The River, Towing Barges, &c. Rustic Refreshment. Water Pastime, Skating on a Frozen River, i. 280 -- of Picturesque Etchings.--A Four-in-Hand. The Village Dance. The Woodman Returning. River Scene, Mill, Shipping, &c., i. 289 -- -- Huntsmen Visiting the Kennels. Haymakers Returning. Deer in a Park, Cattle, &c. Shepherds. Horses in a Paddock. Cattle Watering at a Pond. A Piggery, i. 289. Shipping Scene, i. 18 Shoeing--The Village Forge, i. 212 Showell, Mrs.; the Woman who Shows General Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford, ii. 66 Sick Lion, and the Asses, The (York series), ii. 158 Sign of the Four Alls, The, ii. 195-6 Signiora Squallina, ii. 42 Silly, A, ii. 6 Simmons, Thomas (the murderer), ii. 81 Simple Bodily Pain, ii. 2 Single Combat in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O! ii. 28-9 Sir Cecil's Budget for Paying the National Debt, i. 122 Sir Jeffrey Dunstan Presenting an Address from the Corporation of Garratt, i. 232 Six Classes of that Noble and Useful Animal, a Horse, ii. 214 -- Stages of Marring a Face. Dedicated to the Duke of Hamilton, i. 307-8 -- -- of Mending a Face. Dedicated to the Rt. Hon. Lady Archer, i. 308 Sketch from Nature, A, i. 145 Sketches from Nature, ii. 199, 373 Sketch of Politics in Europe. Birthday of the King of Prussia. Toasts on the occasion, i. 182-3 Skipping Academy, A, ii. 6 Slang Society, The, i. 162 Slap-Bang Shop, ii. 297 Sleepy Congregation, A, ii. 199 Slugs in a Sawpit, i. 296-7 Sly Boots, ii. 38 Smithfield Sharpers, or the Countryman Defrauded, i. 46 Smoky House and a Scolding Wife, A, ii. 368 Smollett, T., Miscellaneous Works (26 Illustrations by Rowlandson), ii. 181 Smuggling in, or a College Trick, ii. 190 -- Out, or Starting for Gretna Green, ii. 190 Snip in a Rage, ii. 39 Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral, ii. 43, 88 Social Day, ii. 316 Soldiers on a March, ii. 84 -- Recruiting, i. 349 Song by Commodore Curtis. Tune: 'Cease, rude Boreas,' ii. 163-4 Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart Ache, ii. 39, 41, 210 'Sorrows of Werter,' ii. 57 Spanish Cloak, A, ii. 226 Spanish Passport to France, A, ii. 96 Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests, ii. 36 -- Pleading, i. 98 'Spirit of the Public Journals for the years 1823-25,' ii. 375, 377-8 Spiritual Lovers, i. 330 Spitfires, ii. 192-3 Sports of a Country Fair. Part I., ii. 191 -- Part II., ii. 191 -- Part III., a Bengal Tiger Loose, ii. 191 -- Cockburn's Theatre on Fire, ii. 192 Squall in Hyde Park, A, i. 302-4 Squire, ii. 14 Stadthouse, Amsterdam, i. 331 Stage Coach, A, i. 213; ii. 43 -- -- Setting Down at the Dolphin Inn, i. 237 -- -- Setting Out from a Posting-house, i. 222 Start, The, i. 223 State Auction, The, i. 121 -- Butchers, i. 245 -- Watchman, The, discovered by the Genius of Britain Studying Plans for the Reduction of America, i. 105 Statue to be Disposed of, The, Gloucester Place, ii. 153 Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey,' ii. 169-74 Steward, ii. 14 Stockdale, the Bookselling Blacksmith, one of the King's New Friends, i. 144 Stockjobber's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Studious Gluttons, i. 312-13 Successful Fortune-Hunter, The, or Captain Shelalee leading Miss Marrowfat to the Temple of Hymen, ii. 235 Sufferer for Decency, A, i. 257 Suffering under the Last Symptoms of a Dangerous Malady, &c., ii. 84 Suitable Restrictions, i. 245 Sulky, A, ii. 6 Summer Amusement: Bug-Hunting, ii. 208 -- -- a Game at Bowls, ii. 6-9 Summer Amusements at Margate, or a Peep at the Mermaids, ii. 254 _Supplemental Magazine_, i. 180 Surprising Irish Giant of St. James's Street, The, i. 154 Sweating for Opposition, A, by Dr. Willis, Dominisweaty & Co., i. 248 Sweet Little Girl that I Love, The, ii. 88 -- Lullaby, ii. 42 -- Pea, The, ii. 233 Sympathy, ii. 298 -- or a Family on a Journey, i. 174 Symptoms of Restiveness, ii. 79-80 -- of Sanctity, ii. 27-8 Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris, ii. 188 Tables are Turned, The. How are the Mighty Fallen, ii. 150 Tables Turned: Miseries of Wedlock, ii. 134 Tailor's Wedding, A, ii. 276 Tailpiece to Tegg's Collection of the York and Clarke's Caricatures, ii. 156 Tally-ho-rum! ii. 11 Taste, ii. 33 Tastes Differ, i. 175 Tax-gatherer, ii. 14 Tea on Shore, i. 168, 253-5, 323 Templar at his Studies, A, ii. 222 Temptation, i. 168 Terror, ii. 2 Theatrical Candidate, A, i. 330 -- Chymist, A (Holman _versus_ Topham), i. 190 -- Leap-frog, ii. 46 Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, The, in Search of a Wife (25 illustrations), ii. 373, 375 This is the House that Jack Built: O.P. Riots, Drury Lane, ii. 165-6 Three Tours of Doctor Syntax, i. 33; ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 -- Principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion, The, ii. 286 -- Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor playing at Bo-peep, ii. 186-7 'Throw Physic to the Dogs,' ii. 91, 193, 199 'Tiens bien ton Bonnet, et toi, defends ta Queue,' i. 331 Timber Waggon, i. 150 Times, The: Regency of the Prince, i. 110 -- -- or a View of the Old House in Little Britain, i. 114 Tit-bit for a Strong Stomach, A, ii. 135 -- for the Bugs, A, i. 320 Tithe Pig, i. 268 Too many for a Jew, i. 165 Tooth Ache, The, or Torment and Torture, ii. 375-6 Toper's Mistake, The, ii. 33 Topham endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman, i. 166 Touch at the Times, A, i. 231 -- for Touch, or a Female Physician in Full Practice, ii. 206 Tour to the Lakes, A, ii. 80-1 Toxophilites, i. 270 Traffic (Old Clo' men), i. 289, 323-4 Trafficorum, ii. 12 Tragedy in London, ii. 74 -- Spectators, i. 217, 219 Transparency Exhibited at Ackermann's, in the Strand, Nov. 27, 1815. Day of Celebration of General Peace in London, ii. 294-5 Transplanting of Teeth (Baron Ron), i. 211 Traveller Refreshed in a Stagnant Pool after the Fatigues of a Dusty Day's Journey, A, ii. 130 Travelling Knife-Grinder at a Cottage Door, i. 222 Trial of the Duke of York, The, ii. 178 Tricks on the Turf--Settling to Lose a Race, ii. 368 Trip to Gretna Green, A, ii. 215 Triumph of Hypocrisy, The, i. 211 -- of Sentiment, The, i. 210 Triumvirate of Gloucester Place, The, or the Clarke, the Soldier, and the Taylor, ii. 151 Tutor and his Pupil Travelling in France, ii. 217 Twelfth Night Characters (in 24 figures), ii. 214 Two Kings of Terror, The. Transparency exhibited at Ackermann's. The Allied Victory of Leipsic, ii. 255, 257 -- Patriotic Duchesses on their Canvass, The (Duchesses of Portland and Devonshire), i. 124 -- of a Trade can never Agree: Mrs. Clarke and Col. Wardle, ii. 160 Twopenny Cribbage, i. 369 Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen, The, Europe is Free, England Rejoices, ii. 281 Uncle George and Black Dick at their New Game of Naval Shuttlecock, i. 199 Undertakers Regaling, ii. 26-7 Unexpected Meeting, An, ii. 148 -- Return, An, or a Snip in Danger, ii. 297 Union, The, ii. 22 -- Headdress, The, ii. 33 Unloading a Waggon, ii. 255-6 Vauxhall Gardens, i. 156-62 Veneration, ii. 1 Véry, Madame, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris, ii. 272-3 Vicar and Moses, The (song heading), i. 147 'Vicar of Wakefield' (24 plates), ii. 356-9, 375 Vicar, ii. 14 Vice-Queen's Delivery, The, at the Old Soldier's Hospital, in Dublin, i. 243 View on the Banks of the Thames, A, ii. 75-7 -- of a Cathedral Town on Market-day, i. 364 Views of the Colleges, ii. 184 -- of Cornwall, ii. 239-46 -- in Cornwall and Dorset (a series), ii. 56 -- in Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Isle of Wight, &c., ii. 169, 181 View on the French Coast, i. 222 Views of London--Entrance of Tottenham Court Road Turnpike, with a view of St. James's Chapel. Ackermann's Gallery, i. 349 -- -- Entrance of Oxford Street, or Tyburn Turnpike, with a view of Park Lane, i. 349 -- -- Entrance from Mile End, or White Chapel Turnpike, i. 349 -- -- Entrance from Hackney, or Cambridge Heath Turnpike, with a distant view of St. Paul's, i. 349 Village Cavalry Practising in a Farmyard, i. 324 -- Doctor, The, i. 96 Virginia, ii. 11 Virtue in Danger, ii. 297 Visit, A, to the Aunt, i. 192, 324 -- to the Doctor, ii. 236 -- to the Uncle, i. 192, 324-5 'Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur!! Vive le Diable!!! French Constancy, ii. 291-2 Volcano of Opposition, The, i. 293 Volunteer Wit, or not Enough for a Prime, ii. 86 Waddling Out, i. 366 Waggon and Horses. 'The Feathers,' i. 332 Waiting for Dinner, i. 276-9 Washing Day, ii. 15 -- Trotters, ii. 1 Watercresses, i. 354 Waterfall, The, or an Error in Judgment, i. 155 Weeping, i. 13; ii. 2 Welsh Sailor's Mistake, The, or Tars in Conversation, ii. 89 'Werter, Sorrows of,' i. 191; ii. 57 Westminster Deserter, The, Drummed out of the Regiment, i. 138-9 -- Election, The, i. 128-143 -- Mendicant, The, i. 137 -- Watchman, The, i. 126 Wet under Foot, ii. 225 White Sergeant giving the Word of Command, A, ii. 74 Who Killed Cock Robin? (_Manchester Massacre_), ii. 365 Who Kills First for a Crown, i. 274-5 Who's Mistress Now? ii. 41, 206 Widow's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Wigstead, Henry. Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797, ii. 19-21 Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork with his Coat Buttoned Behind, ii. 84, 368 Winding up the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition, ii. 182 Wisdom Led by Virtue and Prudence to the Temple of Fame, i. 135 Witches in a Hayloft, ii. 265 Wit's Last Stake, The, or Cobbling Voters and Abject Canvassers, i. 130-1 Woman of Fashion's Journal, A, ii. 35 Wonderful Pig, The, i. 155 Wonderfully Mended. 'Shouldn't have known you again,' ii. 90 Wonders--Wonders--Wonders! ii. 162 Word-Eater, The (Fox), i. 192, 232-3 Work for Doctors' Commons, i. 306 World in Miniature, ii. 312-16, 362 York Address to the Whale, A, Caught lately off Gravesend, ii. 157 York Dilly, The, or the triumph of innocence, ii. 155 Yorkshire Hieroglyphics!! Plate 1. The Duke's Letter to Mrs. Clarke, ii. 151-2 -- -- Plate 2. The Duke's Second Letter to Mrs. Clarke, ii. 152-3 York Magician Transforming a Footboy into a Captain, The, ii. 148 -- March, The, ii. 149-50 Yorick and Father Lorenzo, ii. 170 -- Feeling the Grisette's Pulse, ii. 10 Youth and Age?--Contrasts, i. 188 Transcriber's Notes: Footnotes have been moved to the end of each chapter (in the text version) and to the end of the text (html version). Illustrations have been moved to paragragh breaks in a direction which brings them closer to their descriptions. In the html version this has left blank pages where page numbers are omitted. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. Obvious typos and punctuation errors have been corrected. There are many instances of double choices for hyphenations. Some same words are hyphenated and some aren't. These have been left as printed. In French both ou and où used. The use of italics around _foreign_ words in english text, is inconsistent. These have been left as printed. 'Beef-Steak Club' and 'Beef-steak Club'. These have been left as printed. p9. 'up in curious and-out of-the-way points of the political' changed to 'up in curious and out-of-the-way points of the political'. p25. 'Damp; Sheets and Slugs in a Saw Pit' should read 'Damp Sheets and Slugs in a Saw Pit' p43. 'Die Reise des Doktor Syntax um das Malerische au Frusuchen' should read 'Die Reise des Doktor Syntax um das Malerische aufzusuchen'. p170. November 31, 1785. Jockeyship. Note there is no November 31st in the calendar year. p173. 'and successfully in his instance' should be, 'in this instance'. p190. 'inconvenienced by party prejudices--to to try' removed extra 'to'. p253. 'suppositious contrast between high and and low life in port'. Remove extra and. p265. 'which would seen to have occupied a frontage facing the semicircle'. Seen replaced by seem. p357. 'the parliamentary session had opened at the end of November 1788'. This most likely needs to be the year 1798. Left as printed. A copy of the Indices printed in Volume 2, have been added at the end of the text. 
45981	----	This book contain a copy of the index to both this volume and to "Rowlandson the Caricaturist, Volume 1", which can also be found in the Project Gutenberg collection. (In the index, pages numbered i. ###-### refer to Project Gutenberg e-book 45980, and in the html version, are linked to it. Although we verify the correctness of these links at the time of posting, these links will not work in all formats or while reading offline.) ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST _SECOND VOLUME_ LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO, NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST _A SELECTION FROM HIS WORKS_ WITH ANECDOTAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HIS FAMOUS CARICATURES AND A Sketch of his Life, Times, and Contemporaries BY JOSEPH GREGO AUTHOR OF 'JAMES GILLRAY, THE CARICATURIST; HIS LIFE, WORKS, AND TIMES' [Illustration] _WITH ABOUT FOUR HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS_ IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. II. London CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1880 [_The right of translation is reserved_] CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. (1800-1825.) 1800. PAGE 'Le Brun Travestied, or Caricatures of the Passions'--Dr. Botherum the Mountebank--Humbugging--Hocus-pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone--Hogarthian Novelist--Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant--A Silly--A Sulky--Beef à la Mode--Collar'd Pork--The Pleasures of Margate--Summer Amusements, or a Game at Bowls--Cockney Outings--Beauties of Sterne: 'The Sentimental Journey'--Series of 'Attributes'--'Country Characters'--'Matrimonial Comforts'--Preparations for the Academy; Old Nollekens and his Venus--'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797' 1 1801. A Money Scrivener--A Counsellor--The Union--A Jew Broker--The Brilliants--Undertakers Regaling--Symptoms of Sanctity--Single Combat in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O!--The Emperor Paul of Russia, a Mad Autocrat--Series of 'Prayers' and 'Journals'--The Union Head-dress--An Old Member on his Way to the House of Commons--Minor works--Subjects after the designs of G. M. Woodward 22 1802. Series of 'Journals'--Special Pleaders--La Fille mal Gardé, or Jack in the Box--A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected--Slyboots--A Snip in a Rage--The Corporal in Good Quarters--Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart-ache--Hunt the Slipper; Picnic Revels--Who's Mistress Now?--'Compendious Treatise on Modern Education'--'Bardic Museum' 35 1803. A Catamaran--Billiards--A Diver--John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs--Flags of Truth and Lies--Minor subjects 42 1804. A French Ordinary--Volunteering--The Imperial Coronation--Theatrical Leapfrog--Melpomene in the Dumps--Death of Madame République--A New French Phantasmagoria--The Eight Stages of Man's Schooling--Letter from the Caricaturist to Heath, the engraver 44 1805. Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-gatherers--The famous Coalheaver, Black Charley--The Modern Hercules Cleansing the Augean Stable--A Scotch Sarcophagus--John Bull's Turnpike Gate--The Scotch Ostrich Seeking Cover--Recovery of a Dormant Title--Antiquarians à la Grecque--John Bull at the Italian Opera--Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever on Receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets--A Boarding School--Illustrations to Fielding's 'Tom Jones'--Illustrations to Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle'--Views in Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, &c. 49 1806. 'The Sorrows of Werter'--A Cake in Danger--Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax--A Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire--Recruiting on a Broad-Bottom'd Principle--Daniel Lambert, the Wonderful Great Pumpkin of Little Britain--A Diving Machine on a New Construction--The Acquittal--Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley's Magic Lantern--Butterfly-Hunting--Anything will do for an Officer--Interior of St. Brewer's Church--A Prize Fight 57 1807. Miseries of London: A Street Blockade--The Captain's Account-current of Charge and Discharge--At Home and Abroad--Abroad and at Home--Mrs. Showell and Gen. Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford--The Enraged Vicar--All the Talents--A Henpeck'd Husband--John Rosedale, Mariner, Exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital--The Pilgrims and the Peas--Song Headings--Monastic Fare--The Holy Friar--'I Smell a Rat,' or a Rogue in Grain--The Old Man of the Sea and Sindbad the Sailor--A White Sergeant giving the Word of Command--Miseries Personal--More Scotchmen, or Johnny Maccree Opening his New Budget--A View on the Banks of the Thames--The Double Disaster, or the New Cure for Love--Miseries of the Country--A Mistake at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety--Englishman at Paris--Symptoms of Restiveness--A Calf's Pluck--Rusty Bacon--A Tour to the Lakes--Thomas Simmons, the Murderer--Directions to Footmen--John Bull Making Observations on the Coast--The Dog and the Devil--More Miseries--Illustrations to 'The Pleasures of Human Life' 64 1808. Scenes at Brighton--Miseries of High Life--The Green Dragon--Soldiers on a March--The Consultation, or Last Hope--Volunteer Wit--The Anatomy of Melancholy--The Mother's Hope--The Sweet Little Girl that I Love--Odd Fellows from Downing Street Complaining to John Bull--A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral--Accommodation--The Welsh Sailor's Mistake--Wonderfully Mended--Breaking Cover--Get Money--Doctor Gallipot Placing his Fortune at the Feet of his Mistress--Rum Characters in a Shrubbery--ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES AGAINST BUONAPARTE: The Corsican Tiger; Billingsgate at Bayonne; The Corsican Spider in his Web; The Corsican Nurse Soothing the Infants of Spain; The Beast as Described in Revelations; From the Desk to the Throne; King Joe's Retreat from Madrid; King Joe on his Spanish Donkey; A Spanish Passport to France; The Political Butcher; The Fox and the Grapes; Prophecy Explained; Napoleon the Little in a Rage with his Great French Eagle; A Hard Passage, or Boney Playing Base on the Continent; King Joe and Co. making the most of their time previous to quitting Madrid; Nap and his Partner Joe; Nap and his Friends in their Glory; John Bull arming the Spaniards; Junot disgorging his Booty; The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon--Illustrations to 'An Academy for Grown Horsemen' and 'Annals of Horsemanship,' communicated by Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.--'The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror'--'Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners'--Behaviour at Table--'A Lecture on Heads,' by G. A. Stevens--Plates to 'The Miseries of Human Life'--'The Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature'--'An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting' 84 1809. The Head of the Family in Good Humour--The Old Woman's Complaint, or the Greek Alphabet--Launching a Frigate--A Mad Dog in a Coffee House--Disappointed Epicures--A Mad Dog in a Dining Room--The Comforts of Matrimony--The Miseries of Wedlock--'Oh! you're a Devil. Get along, do!' ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES UPON THE DELICATE INVESTIGATION, OR THE CLARKE SCANDAL: Particulars of the Case; The Parliamentary Examination; The Principal Personages Concerned; Mrs. Clarke's _Memoirs_; 'The Rival Princes'; 'Tegg's Complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the Circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of York before the House of Commons, 1809'; Dissolution of Parliament, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts; Mrs. Clarke's Levee; Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place; All for Love: a Scene at Weymouth; An Unexpected Meeting; The Bishop and his Clarke; A Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place; The York Magician; A Parliamentary Toast; Chelsea Parade; The Road to Preferment; The York March; The Triumvirate of Gloucester Place; A Scene from the Tragedy of 'Cato'; Yorkshire Hieroglyphics, pl. 182; The Burning Shame; The Statue to be Disposed of; A General Discharge; The Champion of Oakhampton; The Parson and the Clarke; Samson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah; The Resignation; The Prodigal Son; Mrs. Clarke's Last Effort; The York Dilly; Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family; Mrs. Clarke's Farewell to her Audience; Original Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place; A York Address to the Whale; The Flower of the City; The Modern Babel; The Sick Lion and the Asses; Burning the Books; A Piece-Offering; The Quaker and the Clarke; John Bull and the Genius of Corruption--Boney's Broken Bridge--Hell Broke Loose--The Tables are Turned--More of the Clarke--The Plot Thickens--Amusement for the Recess--The Bill of Wright's--Wonders, Wonders, Wonders!--The Rising Sun, or a View of the Continent--The Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte--The Walcheren Expedition--Song by Commodore Curtis--A Design for a Monument to be Erected in Commemoration of the Glorious and Never-to-be-forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably planned and executed in the year 1809--General Cheathem's Marvellous Return from his Exhibition of Fireworks--Plan for a General Reform--This is the House that Jack Built--A Lump of Impertinence--A Lump of Innocence--Preparations for the Jubilee, or Theatricals Extraordinary--A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures--The Boxes--A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall--Joint Stock Street--The 'Bull and Mouth'--A Glee--Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature'--Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey'--Butler's 'Hudibras'--'Surprising Adventures of the Renowned Baron Munchausen'--'The Beauties of Sterne'--'Poetical Magazine'--'The Schoolmaster's Tour' (Dr. Syntax)--The Mansion House Monitor--'Annals of Sporting,' by Calib Quizzem--'Trial of the Duke of York'--'Advice to Sportsmen' from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell--'The Pleasures of Human Life,' by Hilari Benevolus & Co.--Illustrations to Smollett's Miscellaneous Works--'Beauties of Tom Brown'--Views in Cornwall, &c.--'Scandal; Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the evidence and remarks of the Members' 130 1810. Winding up the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition--Libel-Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press--A New Tap Wanted--The Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower--Views of the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge--A Bait for Kiddies on the North Road--Kissing for Love--Easterly Winds--Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor Playing at Bo-peep--A Bonnet Shop--Peter Plumb's Diary--A Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris--Paris Diligence--Boxing Match between Dutch Sam and Medley--Smuggling Out, or Starting for Gretna Green--Smuggling In, or a College Trick--Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate--Rigging out a Smuggler--Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal--Sports of a Country Fair--Spitfires--An Old Ewe Dressed Lamb Fashion--Dropsy Courting Consumption--Kitchen Stuff--A Hit at Backgammon--Medical Despatch--Bath Races--Doctor Drainbarrel--After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce--The Harmonic Society--Sign of the Four Alls--Signs--The Rabbit Merchant--A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies--A Parody on Milton--Cries of London 182 1811. College Pranks--A Sleepy Congregation--The Gig Shop--Pigeon-Hole--A French Dentist--Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazenose Broke Loose--She Stoops to Conquer--The Anatomist--Sailors on Horseback--Pastime in Portugal--The Last Drop--Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys--A Picture of Misery--Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise--Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant--The Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonsor--Rural Sports: A Cat in a Bowl--A Dog Fight--Touch for Touch--The Bassoon, with a French Horn Accompaniment--Easter Monday--Rural Sports--The Huntsman Rising--The Gamester Going to Bed--Love Laughs at Locksmiths--Masquerading--Accommodation Ladder--Looking at the Comet--Life and Death of the Racehorse--A Milling Match between Cribb and Molineaux--Smock-Racing--A Game at Quoits--How to Show off a well-shaped Leg--Twelfth Night Characters--Cricket Match Extraordinary--Minor Subjects--Six Classes of the Horse--Distillers--Dinners Dressed in the Neatest Manner--A Trip to Gretna Green--Balloon-Hunting--A Belvoir Leap--A Man of Feeling--Bel and the Dragon--A Milk-sop--Royal Academy, Somerset House--Travelling in France--Exhibition Starecase, Somerset House--The Manager's Last Kick--Preparing to Start--Awkward Squads Studying the Graces--Hiring a Servant--Anglers of 1811--Preparing for the Race--Patience in a Punt--A Templar at His Studies--A Barber's Shop--Modern Antiques--'Munchausen at Walcheren'--'Chesterfield Burlesqued' 199 1812. Duke of Cumberland--Lord Petersham--Lord Pomfret--Wet under Foot--Plucking a Spooney--Catching an Elephant--Description of a Boxing Match between Ward and Quirk--A Spanish Cloak--Fast Day--Sea Stores--Land Stores--The Chamber of Genius--Italian Picture-Dealers Humbugging my Lord Anglaise--The Dog Days--A Brace of Blackguards--Racing--Broad Grins--Watermen--A Seaman's Wife's Reckoning--Setting out for Margate--Refinement of Language--Bitter Fare--Raising the Wind--Christmas Gambols--The Successful Fortune-Hunter--Hackney Assembly--The Learned Scotchman--Preaching to some Purpose--A Visit to the Doctor--Puff Paste--Mock Turtle--Off She Goes--A Cat in Pattens--'Petticoat Loose; a Fragmentary Tale of the Castle'--Series of 'Views in Cornwall'--'Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of the Picturesque'--'Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation'--'Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of a Wife' 225 1813. Bachelor's Fare, or Bread and Cheese and Kisses--The Last Gasp, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms--Summer Amusements at Margate--Humours of Houndsditch--Unloading a Waggon--None but the Brave Deserve the Fair--A Doleful Disaster, or Miss Tubby Tatarmin's Wig Caught Fire--The Norwich Bull Feast--A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull all together--The Corsican Toad under a Harrow--The Execution of two celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying Speeches, November 5, 1813--A Dutch Nightmare--Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe--The Corsican Munchausen--Funking the Corsican--The Mock Phoenix--Friends and Foes, up he Goes!--Political Chemists and German Retorts--Napoléon le Grand--Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods--How to Vault into the Saddle--Witches in a Hayloft--The Quakers and the Commissioners of Excise--Doctor Syntax in the Middle of a Political Squabble--A-going! A-going!--Giving up the Ghost--Ghost of my Departed Husband--'Letters from Italy,' by Lewis Engelbach--'Poetical Sketches of Scarborough,' illustrated by Rowlandson from designs by J. Green--'Dr. Syntax's Tour,' republished 253 1814. The Double Humbug--Death and Buonaparte--Transparency exhibited at Ackermann's on the victory of Leipzig--Madame Véry, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris--La Belle Limonadière au Café des Milles Colonnes--Quarter Day, or Clearing the Premises--Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow-women Basting a Beadle--The Progress of Gallantry--A Tailor's Wedding--Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzig Fair--Crimping a Quaker--The Devil's Darling--Blucher the Brave Extorting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound--Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox--Bloody Boney, the Carcase Butcher, left off Trade and Retiring to Scarecrow Island--The Rogue's March--The Affectionate Farewell, or Kick for Kick--A Delicate Finish to a French Usurper--Nap Dreading his Doleful Doom, or his Grand Entry into the Isle of Elba--The Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen; Europe is Free; England Rejoices--Boney Turned Moralist--What I was! what I am! what I ought to be!--Peace and Plenty--Macassar Oil--A Pleasant Way of Making Hay--Portsmouth Point--The Four Seasons of Love--Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess--Buck-Hunting 271 1815. Female Politicians--Breaking up the Blue Stocking Club--Defrauding the Customs--Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates--Tailors Drinking the Tunbridge Waters--Flight of Buonaparte from Hell Bay--Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France--Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur! Vive le Diable!--Scene in a New Pantomime to be Performed at the Theatre Royal, Paris--The Corsican and his Blood Hounds at the Window of the Tuileries--Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo--Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying Speech, or Europe's Injuries Avenged--Ackermann's Transparency on the General Peace, Nov. 27, 1815--The Cockney Hunt--Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve--A Journeyman Tailor--An Eating House--Neighbours--Banditti--Virtue in Danger--Slap Bang Shop--Accidents will Happen--Sympathy--Despatch, or Jack Preparing for Sea--Deadly-Lively--Illustrations to 'The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome'--Illustrations to 'The Grand Master, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan'--Hindoo Incantations--Illustrations to 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' in a series of letters by Lewis Engelbach--The Letter-Writer--Don Lugi's Ball 289 1816. Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Buonaparte's Carriage taken at Waterloo--The Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White--Lady Hamilton--'Relics of a Saint,' by Ferdinand Farquhar--Rowlandson's 'World in Miniature'--Illustrations to 'The English Dance of Death' 309 1817. Illustrations to Goldsmith's 'Vicar of Wakefield'--Illustrations to 'The Dance of Life'--'Grotesque Drawing Book,' &c. 356 1818. Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork, with his Coat Buttoned Behind--Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites--Illustrations to 'The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy' 363 1819. A Rough Sketch of the Times, as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett--'Who Killed Cock Robin?' (chap-book on the Manchester Massacre)--Female Intrepidity (chap-book) 365 1820. Chemical Lectures (Sir Humphrey Davy)--Rowlandson's 'Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Classes'--'The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax' 366 1821. A Smoky House and a Scolding Wife--Tricks of the Turf, or Settling how to Lose a Race--Illustrations to 'Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France'--'Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou voyage du Docteur Syntaxe' 368 1822. Illustrations to 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus'--Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature'--'Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of a Wife'--'Die Reise des Doktor Syntax'--Crimes of the Clergy 371 1823. Not at Home, or the Disappointed Dinner-hunter--An Old Poacher Caught in a Snare--The Chance-seller of the Exchequer putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries--Westmacott's 'Spirit of the Public Journals for 1823'--The Toothache, or Torment and Torture 374 1825. 'Bernard Blackmantle' (C. M. Westmacott), 'Spirit of the Public Journals for the year 1824'--'The English Spy,' by Bernard Blackmantle 377 1831. Posthumous Publication--'The Humourist, a Companion for the Christmas Fireside,' by W. H. Harrison, 'with fifty engravings and numerous vignettes from designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson' 380 _SUMMARIES._ Chronological summary of subjects, social and political, published caricatures, plates, and book illustrations, engraved by or after Thomas Rowlandson, 1774 to 1831 387 Addendum to the chronological summary of Rowlandson's published caricatures 406 _APPENDIX._ ADDITIONAL SOURCES OF REFERENCE UPON ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES: Catalogue of pictorial satires in the Print Department of the British Museum, from the notes of Edward Hawkins, prepared by Frederic George Stephens 411 'Centuria Librorum Absconditorum (Pisanus Fraxi)' 412 Original drawings by Thomas Rowlandson in the Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum 412 In the Royal Collection, Windsor Castle 413 In the collection of water-colour drawings of the English school, Science and Art Department, South Kensington Museum 413 Dyce collection of water-colour drawings of the English school, Science and Art Department, South Kensington Museum 413 Private collections of original drawings by Thomas Rowlandson 415 _INDICES._ Index of names, persons, &c. 435 Index of titles, subjects, published caricatures, illustrations, &c. 440 _ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST._ 1800. _January 1, 1800._ _A French Ordinary._ Published by S. W. Fores. (See January 2, 1804.) _January 20-3, 1800._ _Washing Trotters._ Published by Hixon, 355 Exeter Change, Strand.--As the title indicates, an etching of a curious couple engaged in the domestic operation of tubbing. _January 20, 1800._ _Desire_, No. 1. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--'Various are the ways this passion might be depicted: in this delineation the subjects chosen are simple--a hungry boy and a plum-pudding.' _January 20, 1800._ _Attention_, No. 2. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 20, 1800._ _Hatred or Jealousy_, No. 3. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 20, 1800._ _Admiration with Astonishment_, No. 4. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 20, 1800._ _Veneration_, No. 5. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Rapture_, No. 6. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson.--'What's life without passion, sweet passion of love?' 'Melody produces rapture, as exemplified in the Jew clothesman's rapturous attention to the vocal strains of the ballad-singer and her family.' A street ballad-singer, with a basket of ballads in slips, and surrounded by her family of children, has thrown a wandering Hebrew into a fit of pious ecstasy by the strains of her squalling voice, helped out by the shrill accompaniments supplied by those of her children. _1800._ _Desire_, No. 7. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson.--'Female attraction is frequently the cause of this passion, as represented in the delineation of the Old Beau and the Sleeping Lady.' A fair young female, fashionably attired, has dropped asleep in an inviting attitude, leaning on a cushion, an old buck, spyglass in hand, is ogling the unconscious beauty. _January 21, 1800._ _Joy with Tranquillity_, No. 8. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Laughter_, No. 9. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Acute Pain_, No. 10. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.--'The curious observer of the passions has only to get a careless servant to pour some hot water on his foot, in a case of the gout, and he will soon know the nature of Acute Pain.' _January 21, 1800._ _Acute Pain_ (2nd plate), No. 19. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Simple Bodily Pain_, No. 11. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Sadness_, No. 12. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.--'This passion is represented by an old maid, who is rendered completely miserable by the death of her favourite lapdog.' A 'serious footman' is gravely contemplating the body of a deceased puppy, extended on a velvet cushion, while an antiquated spinster, his mistress, who is smartened up with bows and ribbons, is in the depths of despair. _January 21, 1800._ _Weeping_, No. 13. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Compassion_, No. 14. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Scorn_, No. 15. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.--'This passion is frequently brought forward when a rich old dowager meets a poor relation.' A stout citizeness is pouting her nether lip, and closing her eyes to the pathetic appeals of a miserable-looking female, whose poverty and leanness offer a striking contrast to the portly city dame, with comfortable muff, resplendent in jewellery and brave apparel. _January 21, 1800._ _Horror_, No. 16. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Terror_, No. 17. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Anger_, No. 18. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann. _January 21, 1800._ _Despair_, No. 20. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann--'A disappointed old maid and a bachelor are selected as proper subjects to represent the passion of despair.' The old maid, who is far from an attractive example of her tribe, is looking venom and acerbity personified. The old bachelor is also of a flinty aspect, his hands are clasped, thumbs pressed together, and head and eyes uplifted in pious abstraction and contemplation. _February 14, 1800._ _Beef à la Mode._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Etched by Rowlandson (companion to _Collar'd Pork_).--A veritable bovine specimen, a fine Alderney, dressed out in the reigning mode. The fore part in female guise, on the head a gigantic hat of the cart-wheel order, straw trimmed and garnished, huge ear-rings, the extensive muslin 'choker,' a miniature of a bull round the cow's neck, ladies' buckled shoes, and ribboned sandles on the fore legs, and maccaroni's hessians and tassels on the hind ones; a lady's shawl thrown over the shoulders, according to the fashionable costume worn at the end of the eighteenth century. _March 6, 1800._ _Dr. Botherum, the Mountebank._--From the bustle and life visible on all sides it would seem that the period is fair-time, when the rustics and agricultural population of the vicinity in general flock into the town, holiday-making. A travelling mountebank has established his theatre in the market place; the person of the ingenious charlatan is decked out in a fine court dress, with bag wig, powder, sword, and laced hat complete, the better to excite the respect of his audience; he is holding forth on the marvellous properties ascribed to the nostrums which he is seeking to palm off on the simple villagers as wonder-working elixirs; while his attendants, Merry Andrew and Jack Pudding, are going through their share of the performance. One branch of the mountebank physician's profession was the drawing of teeth; an unfortunate sufferer is submitting himself to the hands of the empiric's assistant. The rural audience is stolidly contemplating the antics of the party, without being particularly moved by Dr. Botherum's imposing eloquence, these vagabond scamps being frequently clever rogues, blessed with an inexhaustible fund of bewildering oratory, and witty repartee at glib command. Leaving the quack, we find plentiful and suggestive materials to employ the humourist's skilful graver scattered around. In the centre, a scene of jealousy is displayed; the beguilements of a portly butcher are prevailing against the assumed privileges of a slip-shod tailor, who is seemingly tempted to have recourse to his sheers, to cut the amorous entanglement summarily asunder. On the left, the promiscuous and greedy feeding associated with 'fairings,' is going busily forward, and on the opposite side are exhibited all the drolleries which can be got out of a Jew pedlar, his pack, the diversified actions of customers he is trying to tempt with his wares, and the bargains for finery into which the fair and softer sex are vainly trying to beguile the cunning Hebrew on their own accounts. [Illustration: DR. BOTHERUM, THE MOUNTEBANK.] It seems probable that Rowlandson in his print of _Doctor Botherum_ may have had a certain Doctor Bossy in his eye, a German practitioner of considerable skill, who enjoyed a comfortable private practice, said to have been the last of the respectable charlatans who exhibited in the British metropolis. This benevolent empiric, as Angelo informs us, dispensed medicines and practised the healing art, publicly and gratuitously on a stage, his booth being erected weekly in the midst of Covent-Garden Market, where the mountebank, handsomely dressed and wearing a gold-laced cocked hat, arrived in his chariot with a liveried servant behind. According to the old custom, the itinerant quack doctor, with his attendant gang, was as constant a visitor at every market-place as the pedlar with his pack. _March 12, 1800._ _Humbugging, or Raising the Devil._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A credulous personage, who, judging from his costume, is in a fair position in life, has called to consult a necromancer. The enchanter has a venerable beard, and a divining rod; according to usage, he has made a circle of skulls, toads, and other inviting objects, in the centre of which, through a stage trap, he is raising the 'very deil,' and has conjured up a pantomimic demon, horned, winged, and grotesquely arranged, holding in one hand a gore-stained dagger, and a goblet of suppositious blood in the other. The knees of the befooled spectator are trembling beneath him; his back is turned to a curtain which conceals a fair enchantress, who is assisting the invocation, and giving a practical turn to the delusion by removing a well-filled pocket-book from the coat-tail of the simple victim. In the background is the traditional whiskered cat, and the folio of cabalistic signs; a stuffed crocodile is suspended from the roof. _March 12, 1800._ _Hocus Pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone._ Rowlandson del. and sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Companion plate to 'Humbugging, or raising the Devil.' The artist introduces us to the laboratory of a so-called alchemist. A roguish Jew and his familiar are busily engaged in the transmutation of metals; the servant, with a pair of long-nozzled bellows, is engaged in kindling the furnace, in which is a crucible; various retorts, alembics, and other paraphernalia of the 'black arts,' are scattered about, as well as a formula for 'changing lead into gold;' although the alchemists at best could only contrive to accomplish the reverse transmutation. Suggestive prints are hung on the walls of this chamber of mystery, such as the portrait of the notorious 'Count Cagliostro, discoverer of the Philosopher's Stone,' and the figure of the spurious 'Bottle Conjurer.' A military officer, in the next apartment, is turning his opportunities to more practical advantage by embracing, with a certain display of ardour, a pretty maiden--who is nothing loth,--the daughter, it appears, of the philosophically minded investigator. _April 1, 1800._ _A Ghost in the Wine Cellar._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi. _April, 1800._ _Caricature Medallions for Screens._ Published by R. Ackermann, Strand. _April 20, 1800._ _Hearts for the year 1800._ Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand. _May 1, 1800._ _Cash_. Published by R. Ackermann. _May 1, 1800._ _Bills of Exchange._ Published by R. Ackermann. _May 12, 1800._ _Melopoyn haranguing the prisoners in the Fleet. Hogarthian Novelist._ Plate 5. _May 12, 1800._ _Captain Bowling introduced to Narcissa. Hogarthian Novelist._ Plate 6. _May 20, 1800._ _A Skipping Academy._ G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand. _June, 1800._ _Sketches at the Oratorio._ G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. _June 4, 1800._ _Pictures of Prejudice._ Designed by Woodward. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann. _June 4, 1800._ _Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant._--George the Third, his face shown in profile, is standing upright and firm; his left arm is resting on the pillar of Fortitude, Britannia's shield is outstretched for his protection, and her spear is striking at the would-be assassin Hadfield, who, wearing a repellant expression, is slinking down before her: his pistol has fallen from his hand; round his neck is a halter, with the end of which a miniature edition of the Evil One is flying off, crying: 'Hadfield, for thy diabolical attempt thou shalt meet with thy reward!' _June 26, 1800._ _A Silly._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--An ill-favoured old maid, who is evidently a person of fortune, is seated on her sofa between two admirers, a clergyman and a military officer, who are respectively ambitious of the honour of her hand. Her old-maidish tastes are indicated by the nature of her pets; a monkey, seated in the embrasure of the window, is scratching his ear; he is supported on the opposite side by a parrot, which is screaming with the full force of its lungs. _June 26, 1800._ _A Sulky._ Companion Print to _A Silly_. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A fat old curmudgeon, a very porpoise in face, expression, and figure, is tippling and dozing in a semi-maudlin state, in front of the fire-place. His fair companion, an elegant young damsel, is dressed in readiness to make her escape into more agreeable society; she is fuming with impatience, but dares not venture to move for fear of arousing the attention of her besotted jailer. Her situation is more tantalising from the circumstance that the maid-servant has brought in a billet-doux from a handsome youth, her admirer, who, all impatience, is looking over the shoulders of his messenger. _July 25, 1800._ _Collar'd Pork._ Companion to _Beef à la Mode_ (see p. 3). Published by Ackermann.--A long-snouted black pig is decked out in the height of fashion, with ample neck-cloth, frill, wig, eye-glass, white ducks, blue coat with roll collar, brass buttons, his tail twisted up with bows, &c., _à la queue_. He wears Hessian boots, tassels, and spurs on his front legs; pumps with bows, and black silk stockings on his hind legs. _July 25, 1800._ _The Pleasures of Margate_, in four compartments. Published by R. Ackermann. _Morning._--Breakfasting at _Michiner's Grand Hotel_. _Noon._--Dining at _Michiner's Grand Hotel_. _Evening._--A drive on the sands. _Night._--At the bazaars. Raffling for prizes, flirtation, &c. _August 20, 1800._ _Sailors Regaling._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi. 1800. _The Tuileries in Paris._--_Original Drawing._ [Illustration: SUMMER AMUSEMENT, OR A GAME AT BOWLS.] _August 20, 1800._ _Summer Amusement; or, a Game at Bowls._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi.--It has been a custom immemorial to laugh at the exertions which were made by our ancestors to obtain rational open-air recreation. The fashionable part of society have, for once, found congenial allies in the wits. The papers which doubtless obtained the most popular reception in their day, since they laughed at the simple citizens 'on pleasure bent,' and held up their relaxations to a ridicule which was often neither subtle nor polished, were the essays in the _Spectator_, _Tatler_, _Guardian_, _Humourist_, _&c._, which made fun of the countrified loungings of the Londoners. The squibs, in the shape of poetical broadsheets and songs of the Stuart era, against sylvan aspirations, were but re-echoed by the bright and cultivated humourists who flourished when 'Anna ruled the realm.' Sturdy Hogarth, with his pictures, brought the commonplace pleasures--although he was addicted to them with no half-spirit himself--of his neighbours into ludicrous prominence. The _Connoisseur_, _World_, _Mirror_, _Adventurer_, _Observer_, _Lounger_, _Looker-on_, and even Johnson's _Rambler_, are particularly caustic on the comic side of humanity, as seen in their out-of-door pastimes. As to the days of transition, when the early Georgian generation was being rapidly submerged and effaced by the tide of progression, both writers and caricaturists combined to satirise cockney jauntings unmercifully. Gillray, Rowlandson, Collings, Boyle, Bunbury, Deighton, Woodward, Nixon, Newton, and a swarm of amateur followers, were always ready to make fun of suburban excursions; such productions were certain to obtain fame for the designers, and a ready patronage at the hands of a public which encouraged similar everyday irony. It seems, however, now the suburbs have disappeared, where tea-gardens were once abundant--to which, armed with lanterns and in groups, for better security against the knights of the road, footpads, and similar dangers which were then rife, our forefathers repaired with light hearts, released from the culture of Mammon and money-grubbing--that we have lost a great deal which modern improvements are powerless to restore. A little generation back there were still relics of past pleasure haunts, a Sluice House, a Hornsey Wood House, and numberless similar resorts for the dwellers in Babylon, who sighed to turn, for a brief afternoon of diversion, their respectable backs on groves of brick, and to regale their pastoral-longing eyes with a semblance of the country. Now the monster metropolis, with unsparing strides, has finally absorbed such patches of verdure, as made homely retreats on red-letter holidays; and life is considerably restricted, as regards the variety which an hour's jaunt could introduce into the prosaic current of yearly existence, as far as the boundaries of the giant city are concerned. A great deal could be written on the defunct pleasure-gardens which once enlivened the outskirts; but their glories are departed, or at best preserved in the satires, literary and artistic, which contemporary humourists levelled at the Georgic-loving citizens who frequented them. Such a suburban retreat, with the motley crowds who disported themselves thereat, is graphically reproduced in Rowlandson's plate of _Summer Amusement_. Much of the delight was prosaic and toilsome; but, seemingly, good fun was to be had, and people could lay aside their conventional rigidity for once and awhile, when fine weather and the pleasant season tempted them to stray, and leave the everlasting counting-house at home, for a game at bowls and a little wholesome relaxation. The various groups found in the picture are well conceived. Two games are proceeding, into which cits, of various degrees, are throwing their entire energies. The whimsical accompaniments connected with 'taking tea in the arbour' are faithfully seized. The soberer elders are crowding the hospitable 'house of call.' Round the foremost table is gathered a convivial party; the worthy souls are draining a parting bowl, before commencing their return journey, for which the lantern is set on the ground in prudent preparation. A little toasting is going on at the next table, and beyond that an arcadian flirtation is in progress, with various incidents transpiring around, such as the observant philosopher might have noted in 1800, without travelling very far out of his way. _August 30, 1800._ _Gratification of the Senses à la mode Française._--(Seeing, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling, Feeling.) _October 1._ _The Newspaper._ G. M. Woodward invt., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _October 29, 1800._ _Grotesque borders for Rooms and Halls._--Published October 25 and 29, 1800, by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 1800 (?). _Sterne, L. The Beauties of Sterne._ With one plate by T. Rowlandson. 12mo. 1800. _Sterne, L. The Sentimental Journey._ With plates by Thomas Rowlandson. 12mo. 1800. _Yorick feeling the Grisette's Pulse._ 8vo.--The interior of the Grisette's _Magasin des Modes_. The plate is delicately etched. Yorick is seated beside the pretty milliner; the complaisant husband is bowing, grimacing, and attitudinising. A poodle is on a settee. Two blocks, hat and cap moulds, are, with bandboxes, robes, &c., scattered around. Outside is seen a glimpse of the quaint antiquated French street life, such as might be encountered by the sentimental traveller before the Revolution:--priests, monks, portresses, &c., with images of saints at the street corners. On August 15, 1800, Mr. Ackermann issued at his Repository of Arts, 101 Strand, a series of six plates designed and etched in Rowlandson's boldest and most spirited style; and finished and coloured in almost exact imitation of the original drawings. Each plate contains three large distinct heads, festooned with attributes peculiar to the respective designs. It is not very clear whether these symbolical groupings, which are superior in execution to the average of Rowlandson's published works, were devised to be cut up for scrap-books, screens, or wall borderings; but they have become remarkably scarce since the date of publication, and sets of these typical heads (eighteen in all) are rarely met with at the present date. _Philosophorum._--The head of the philosopher closely resembles the conventional portrait accorded to Father Time, horn spectacles, forelock, grey beard and all. The globe, a sextant, mariner's compass, chart, telescope, dividers, bells, squares, thermometers, &c., make up the symbolical garland which depends from the ears of this emblem of knowledge. _Fancynina._--This figure is borne out by one of the artist's favourite types of female beauty, a well-featured, handsomely made and languishing-looking young lady, wearing a modish hat, all feathered, beaded, and flowered. The portrait of _Fancynina_ is festooned with such emblems of feminine frivolity as French rouge, Court sticking-plaister (for patches), ottar of roses, watches and trinkets, miniatures of admirers, an opera glass, a black domino or half-mask, a huge muff, parasol, fan, &c. _Epicurum._--An old gourmand in a red nightcap, whose flushed and blossoming countenance appears through a goodly string of sausages; a gridiron, a basting ladle, a cucumber, and other indications of creature comforts complete the emblems of this figure. _Penserosa._--The head of a tragic performer, modelled on that of one of the Gorgones is used to illustrate this figure. The Medusa head is entwined with serpents, and wreathed below with a festoon of bays, beneath which hang the dagger and bowl, and the manuscript of _Penserosa's_ tragic part. _Tally ho! rum!_--The head of a Nimrod, backed with a huntsman's cap, is the sign-piece of this figure; a _corne de chasse_ is hung round the sportsman's neck, and on it are spurs, horseshoes, whips, a gun, powder-flask, and game bag; a fox's head completes the group of emblems distinctive of _Tally ho! rum!_ _Allegoria._--The head of a rubicund, but young and well-featured, Bacchus does duty for _Allegoria_; heavy clusters of vine-leaves, and bunches of purple grapes and tendrils crown and surround the bucolic divinity; below is a Silenus mask; bacchanalian flutes, and pipes of Pan, complete the insignia. _Physicorum._--The face of a lean, high-dried, and sharp-featured doctor, with a high, white wig, and a profusion of horsehair curls, figures forth _Physicorum_ with proper character; festoons of bottles of medicine, soporific, strengthening, emollient, purging and sleeping draughts in all varieties, boxes of pills, ointments, drops, prescriptive puffs, quackeries, and the inevitable syringe and clyster pipe, make up the attributes of the physician. _Nunina._--The head of a rosy-cheeked and buxom Nun, her eyes devoutly raised to realms above. Beneath the portrait the crowned and ghastly skull of King Death, a book of devotions, a _flagellum_ for discipline, a crucifix, hour-glass and rosary, and other pious symbols are displayed. _Publicorum._--The face of a fat and rubicund-visaged landlord does duty as the emblem of _Publicorum_; as may be supposed, the symbols of this personage consist mainly of convivial attributes--tobacco-boxes, pipes, bottles of rum, brandy, and rack; a tankard, limes, lemons, a punchbowl, ladle, &c. _Funeralorum._--The head of a professional mourner, with long crape streamers round his hat, and a mourning cloak. _Funeralorum_ is surrounded by such cheerful attributes as funeral sermons, advertisements of interments, and invitations to the same, burial fees, titles, last wills and testaments, hatchments, Yorick's skull, an hour-glass, and a sexton's pick and spade. _Virginia._--The head of a soured and malignant-looking old maid, whose favourite parrot is screaming in her ear. The vixenish face is festooned with suppositious attributes of old spinsterhood--a group of boxes of snuff, corn-plaisters, padlocks, pincushions, cats-meat, anonymous letters, drops for the colic; while a bag for 'winnings at _quadrille_' is displayed on the _Scandalous Magazine_, beside which are perched two spitting and caterwauling old tom-cats. _Hazardorum._--The head given as representative of _Hazardorum_ wears a very disconsolate and downcast look; fortune has not favoured the gambler, as is figuratively evinced by a purse turned upside down, from which the contents are escaping, mortgage-deeds, annuity bonds, _Hoyle on Chances_, a betting book, a game cock, rackets, dice and a dice-box. _The Racing Calendar_, playing cards, billiard cues, a loaded pistol, and other suggestive emblems supply the features of _Hazardorum_. _Battlcorum._--The head of a fierce-looking warrior, with plumed hat, sets forth _Battlcorum_; warlike attributes surround the stern hero, whose face is grim as war itself. Chain-shot, pistols, shot-belts, a cartouche box, bayonet, sword, gun, drum. &c., help out the martial figure and assist its due signification. _Billingsgatina_ displays the face of a buxom young fish-girl, topped with a sailor's straw hat, and surrounded by evidences of her fishy profession: strings of eels, lobsters, crabs, cod, oysters, and fish-baskets are introduced to support the character of _Billingsgatina_. _Trafficorum_ is represented by a long-haired, hook-nosed, shrewd-eyed Jew pedlar, wearing an unkempt beard; round his neck hangs the suggestive hawker's box, with the multifarious contents of the pack displayed; scissors, tape, ribands, spectacles, purses, razors, combs, knives, forks and spoons, watches, trinkets, necklaces, ear-rings, buckles, and an infinity of similar articles, disclose the identity of _Trafficorum_. _Barberorum._--The head of a French hair-dresser does duty for this figure; a comb is stuck in the lengthy locks, and a white apron is pinned under the shaven chin. Implements properly pertaining to the barber's calling are introduced to form a trophy; a string of wigs of all colours and shapes, a block, powder-bags, curling-irons, tongs, combs, scissors, tooth brushes, razors and Packwood's strops, flasks of scent, eau de Luce, lotions, boxes of pommades, rouge, &c., furnish forth emblemata of the hair-dressing _Barberorum_. _Flora_ is represented by a sweetly innocent flower-seller, whose soft and winning face appears above clusters of roses, lilies, tulips, bluebells, and other flowers, while beneath the attributes of _Flora_ are completed by a basket of fruits and vegetables. _Lawyerorum_ very significantly closes the series of emblematical heads. The counsel is a hard-featured, sharp, close, shrewd, and long-headed looking individual, attired in his horsehair wig, and festooned around with the sweets of his profession--_Affidavits_, _Subpoenæ_, _Perjuries_, _Bankrupts enlarged_, '_Wills made on the shortest notice_,' _Writs of Error_, _Clausum Friget_, _Bills of Costs_, _Declarations_, _Actions between John Doe and Richard Roe_, _Warrants for assaults_, _Habeas Corpus_, _Suits in Chancery_, _Lists of Informations_, _Quirks_, _Quibbles_, _Briefs_, _Title-deeds_, _Statutes at large_, bags of _causes_, ponderous legal volumes; the emblemata are significantly supported by a well-filled brief bag, plethoric with 'cash received on clients' accounts, not paid over.' 1800. _A Peep into Bethlehem._ Ah! then dismounted from his spavin'd hack, To Bethlehem's walls, with Burke, I saw him borne, There the straight waistcoat close embrac'd his back: While Peggy's wreath of straw did either brow adorn, And there they sit, two grinners, _vis-a-vis_; He writing Grub Street verse, Burke ranting rhapsody. _Vide Melancholy Catastrophe_, _by_ PETER FIG, Esq. The bard Peter Pindar is leaning his elbows on a sheet of verses lately commenced, 'An Ode to Paine,' his poems the 'Lousiad,' 'Pension,' 'Ode upon Ode,' &c., are scattered on the ground. Burke, with a shaven head, and wearing a rosary round his neck, is declaiming impassioned eloquence, while his foot is trampling upon two volumes, the 'Rights of Man,' and 'Common Sense,' with Peter Pindar's 'Ode upon Ode.' 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 1, A Publican._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The parlour of a country public-house, hung round with pictures on equestrian subjects, after the manner of the inimitable gallery of Professor Gambado: _Horse Accomplishments_, introducing such peculiarities as _An Astronomer, or Star-gazing Steed_; _An Arithmetician_, where the animal is working out problems with his nose on the ground; _A Loiterer_, where the horse pauses to ruminate, &c. The publican is drinking in true old-fashioned landlordlike style with the squire, a Tony Lumkin of a landed proprietor; mine host wears a red nightcap, and clean white sleeves, apron, and stockings. Tony Lumkin has been trying to palm off an old story on his friend, but the landlord's experience is too much for him. 'Come, squire,' he cries, 'that won't do; that's Joe Miller, I'm sure, page 490.' _Country Characters. No. 2, A Justice._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. _Country Characters. No. 3, A Barber._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A stout gentleman, divested of his wig, has sat down for the tonsorial process, holding in his lap the _London Gazette Newspaper_; the village Figaro, a highly-dried and austere personage, of marked political proclivities, has fixed his melancholy eyes on the latest intelligence, while, not to waste time, he is pursuing the operation of shaving his unhappy victim; simultaneously the edge of his razor-blade is taking an upward tendency, and his right hand is sawing away at the sitter's olfactory organ, while his left holds that important member immoveable. 'They write from Amsterdam,' reads the preoccupied barber; while the gentleman in the seat of torture, writhing with pain and apprehension, vehemently shouts: 'Halloh! you sir,--what, are you going to cut my nose off?' The remainder of the series does not require a more particular description. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 4, Footman._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 5, Tax-gatherer._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 6, Squire._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 7, Vicar._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 8, Doctor._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 9, Exciseman._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 10, Steward._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 11, Attorney._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800 (?). _Country Characters. No. 12, London Outrider, or Brother Saddle-bag._ Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 1, _The Dinner Spoil'd._ G. M. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A family party sitting down to the diurnal repast. The head of the house is an ill-favoured person, of advanced age and wearing a tremendous wig. Before him is a leg of mutton, and, knife and fork in hand, he is considering the joint with the eye of disfavour. 'It's red!' he grumbles, 'not fit to eat!--these are the blessed effects of boiling mutton in a cloth!' His wife is regarding the dinner with consternation; one son is opening his eyes, and 'making a mouth' apprehensive of losing his dinner; another youth bears a look of absolute dejection; the family circle is completed by the addition of a queer poodle, seated on his hind legs, and wearing a disappointed look, like the rest of the diners. An appropriate pair of figures, _Peace_ and _Concord_, are hung on the wall by way of pictures. 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 2, _Late Hours_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 3, _An Anonymous Letter_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 4, _A Return from a Walk_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A venerable and somewhat decrepit spouse has been for a 'constitutional.' On his return he is gratified with the discovery of a very interesting domestic tableau: his young and pretty wife is fast asleep on the knee of a dashing officer, who, seated on the family sofa, is also slumbering blissfully, with one arm round the waist of the faithless wife, while his hand is clasping that of the lady, one of whose arms tenderly encircles the neck of her martial admirer. The rash intruder on this scene, with good reason, is much shocked at the situation, and is exclaiming in dismay, 'My wife! as sure as I am a haberdasher.' 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 5, _Killing with Kindness_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The victim to ill-directed matrimonial attentions is a stout countrified old gentleman; he is seated in his arm-chair, very much at the mercy of two fair and youthful tormentors, whose exertions on his behalf are probably _not_ disinterested. The wife, a very stylish damsel, seemingly young enough to be the daughter of her embarrassed spouse, is leaning on his chair and pressing him to partake of a dish of fruit, and insisting, 'You must have some apricots, my love!' while her sister, patting the husband affectionately on the shoulder, is forcing a bunch of grapes into his mouth, which he has incautiously opened, to express his dissent: 'Just take these grapes, brother-in-law, you never eat finer!' The old gentleman, who shrewdly values this devotion at its worth, is crying: 'I wo'nt eat anything more, I tell you--I shall be choked--got an eye to the estate, I suppose!' 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 6, _A Fashionable Suit_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The tailor, with measuring-tape on shoulder and shears in pocket, has brought home a new suit, into which an ill-made and clumsy-looking personage has, with some difficulty, managed to thrust his limbs. The coat is that very unbecoming garment, fashionable at the date of the etching, and known as a _Jean de Brie_--a close-fitting, swallow-tailed garment, with a hump-like high collar, and sleeves tight to the shoulders, which were distended by a gouty puff, giving a generally distorted appearance to the back of the wearer. The victim is contemplating his uncomfortable suit in a looking-glass held by the tailor, who is dismayed at the indignant protest of his client: 'Why, you have put me a hump upon each shoulder, and here's a pair of Dutchman's breeches that would hold provision for a marching regiment; well, I tell you what, Master Tailor, d---- me if I would go to our club such a figure for fifty pounds!' The snip is assuring him in reply: 'Made entirely to your lady's orders, your Honour, I assure you she said now you was married you should look like the rest of the world.' 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 7, _Washing Day_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A stout and comfortable-looking gentleman, whose features wear a very sulky and discontented expression, is giving one hand to a cheerful old 'chum' from the country, and pointing with the disengaged hand to two stout wenches deep in the washing-tubs: 'Ah! my old friend,' cries the host to the traveller, 'I wish you had called at some more convenient time, but this is washing day--I have nothing to give you but cold fish, cold tripe, and cold potatoes, you may smell soapsuds a mile! Ah Jack! Jack! you don't know these Comforts! You are a bachelor!' 1800. _Matrimonial Comforts._ No. 8, _A Curtain Lecture_. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The bedchamber of a couple who seem to disagree. The clock points to 'five o'clock in the morning,' and the husband, night-cap on head, and his face bearing an expression of injured martyrdom, has clasped his hands in despair of obtaining rest from the energetic denunciations of his wife, who, leaning over him in a commanding attitude, is pouring forth her 'Caudle-like' remonstrances over the prostrate sufferer: 'Yes, you base man, you; don't you eat, drink, and sleep comfortably at home? and still you must be jaunting abroad every night. I'll find out all your intrigues, you may depend on it.' 1800 (?). _Preparation for the Academy, Old Joseph Nollekens and his Venus._--John Thomas Smith, many years Keeper of the prints and drawings in the British Museum, and better known by his works on metropolitan antiquities, to which he furnished etchings, as well as archæological researches, has left us one of the chattiest and most eccentric biographies to be found in the annals of literature--the _Life of the Sculptor Nollekens_, whose pupil he was. Much as we are indebted to 'Antiquity Smith' for the whimsical anecdotes he has imported into his unequivocally entertaining pair of volumes, which touch freely upon contemporary men and things under their most familiar and every-day aspect, we cannot fail to feel a passing regret that the versatile keeper has forgotten to make any anecdotal mention of his friend Rowlandson, with whom he was on terms of cordiality. The caricaturist had presented, at times, some of his most interesting drawings to 'his old friend John Thomas Smith,' as he has taken care to inscribe on the margins, with his autograph; the best of these is possibly, _Drawing from the Life-School at the Royal Academy_--a subject upon which both the humourists were well informed, since they had worked there as students, and were more or less acquainted with all the artists of the day, and, moreover, it being impossible to overlook such points, with their keen sense of the eccentric; they had noted--the one with his pencil, and the other with his pen--all the striking peculiarities, personal or professional, of their numerous associates. The latest portrait the present writer has seen of our artist is one drawn with a pen in outline and tinted with Indian ink by the worthy keeper, one day when the caricaturist was visiting the Print Room of the British Museum, Rowlandson being, at that time, well advanced in years. The sketch is that of a large and decisive-looking elderly gentleman, with a bald head, firmly-cut features, and wearing big old-fashioned spectacles; this portrait was taken while the subject was stooping to examine a drawing. Beneath it John Thomas Smith has inscribed the particulars under which he came to draw the portrait of 'his old friend.' The grave omission with which we have to charge Nollekens' biographer, usually so amazingly fertile in individualistic traits of everyone he knew--and he seems to have been fairly acquainted with, or to have something amusing to impart about, nearly everybody of any note--in respect to the caricaturist, of whom his writings make no sort of mention, is the more to be regretted, since it was probably a sly hint imparted by 'Antiquity Smith' which produced the picture of the gifted old miser at work on one of his cherished subjects--a whimsical study, doubtless founded on a special visit of observation, instituted, with Nollekens' old pupil, for the very purpose. As regards the sculptor's portrait, which is seemingly caricatured, John Thomas Smith comes in as aptly with his description[1] as if the two sittings had taken place simultaneously, and the biographer and artist had worked _en collaboration_:--'His figure was short, his head big, and it appeared much increased by a large-crowned hat, of which he was very fond. His neck was short, his shoulders narrow, his body too large, particularly in the front lower part; he was bow-legged and hook-nosed; indeed, his leg was somewhat like his nose, which resembled the rudder of an Antwerp packet-boat; his lips were rather thin, but between his brows there was great evidence of study.' [Illustration: PREPARATIONS FOR THE ACADEMY. OLD JOSEPH NOLLEKENS AND HIS VENUS.] As to 'his Venuses' Mrs. Nollekens invariably continued to express the most derogatory opinions, since she regarded his fair models as 'abandoned huzzies, with whom she had no patience,' regarding her eccentric spouse as quite on their level, for she cherished the extraordinary conviction that after his marriage he ought to have 'dispensed with such people.' While Mrs. Nollekens was unduly mindful of her husband's favourite models, it seems these ladies, under altered circumstances, occasionally amused themselves by reminding the sculptor of their former acquaintance, on which pleasant fact his biographer does not fail to enlarge, in more than one instance:-- 'Our sculptor would sometimes amuse himself, on a summer's evening, by standing with his arms behind him at the yard-gate, which opened into Titchfield Street. During one of these indulgences, as a lady was passing, most elegantly dressed, attended by a strapping footman in silver-laced livery, with a tall gilt-headed cane, she nodded to him, and, smiling, asked him if he did not know her. On his reply that he did not recollect her, "What, sir!" exclaimed she, "do you forget Miss Coleman, who brought a letter to you from Charles Townley, to compare limbs with your Venus? Why, I have been with you twenty times in that little room, to stand for your Venus." "Oh! _lawk-a-daisy_, so you have!" answered Nollekens. "Why, what a fine woman you're grown! Come, walk in, and I'll show you your figure--I have done it in marble." After desiring the man to stop at the gate she went in with him; and upon seeing Mrs. Nollekens at the parlour-window, who was pretending to talk to and feed her sister's bullfinch, but who had been informed by the vigilant Bronze (the eccentric maid-servant of this odd pair) of what had been going on at the gate, she went up to her and said, "Madam, I have to thank----." Mrs. Nollekens then elevated herself on her toes, and, with a lisping palpitation, began to address the lady. "Oh, dear," observed Miss Coleman, "and you don't know me! You have given me many a basin of broth in the depth of winter, when I used to stand for Venus." Mrs. Nollekens, not knowing what to think of Joseph, shook her head at him as she slammed the window, at the same time exclaiming, "Oh, fie! Mr. Nollekens! Fie! fie!" Bronze assured me that when her master went into the front parlour he had a pretty warm reception. "What!" said her mistress, "to know such wretches after you have done with them in your studio!"' In Rowlandson's picture the sculptor is actually at work on a Venus and Cupid; one of his most successful models.[2] 1800. _Rainbow Tavern, in Fleet Street, in 1800._ 1800. _Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797_, by Henry Wigstead, with plates from Rowlandson, Pugh, Howitt, &c. (Aquatinted by J. Hill.) London: Published by W. Wigstead, 40 Charing Cross. 8vo.--The particulars of the tour undertaken under these auspices are thus briefly set forth by one of the travellers:-- 'The romantic and picturesque scenery of North and South Wales, having within these few years been considered highly noticeable and attractive, I was induced to visit this Principality with my friend Mr. Rowlandson, whose abilities as an artist need no eulogium from me. We left London in August 1797, highly expectant of gratification: nor were our highest hopes in the least frustrated. 'At the time of our excursion I had no idea of submitting to the public any of our minutes or sketches; but, as several of the subjects amongst our scenery have become topics of admiration, as well to the artist as cursory traveller, I have in the following sheets endeavoured to give a faint idea of their beauties; accompanied by some short remarks on the road, merely intended as a sort of _vade mecum_ to stimulate the readers to further and more important enquiries; and in order, if possible, that they may, by being apprised of many inconveniences we experienced, be enabled to avoid them.' _Plates._ Coventry, with a view of the effigy of Peeping Tom, and the King's Head. By T. Rowlandson. Wolverhampton. The Market, Bevan's Toy Shop, and the Church. By T. Rowlandson. Langollen. The King's Apartments, Conway Castle. Penmanmawr. H. Wigstead, _del._ Caernarvon. Snowdon, from Llanberris Lake. H. Wigstead, _del._ Speaking of the natives of Llanberris, Wigstead describes them in such picturesque terms that we are tempted to quote the paragraph:-- 'The people here are really almost in a state of simple nature. The value of money is scarcely known; they pay the rent of their premises in cattle generally, which they breed on their land. Flesh is scarce ever tasted by them; and, except when visitors leave behind remnants of wine, ale, &c., milk is the principal beverage that passes their lips. They are remarkably observant of any decorations worn by ladies, such as beads, laces, and feathers, which strengthened my opinion of their similitude with the Otaheiteans, &c. These they admire, and handle with a sort of rudeness bordering on savage manners, likely to raise alarm in the breast of the fair wearer.' Nantz Mill and Bethgellert. By T. Rowlandson. Pont Aberglasslyn. By H. Wigstead. Festiniog. By T. Rowlandson. A Welsh Landlady (fac-similed from the original drawing). By H. Wigstead. Waterfall near Dolghelly. Aberystwith. Cardigan. T. Rowlandson, _del._ Inside of a Kitchen at Newcastle (near Carmarthen). By T. Rowlandson. The latter subject pictures forth a capital interior, in Rowlandson's own graphic manner. A turnspit is represented in his wheel, with the chain attached to the spit, for roasting the joint before the fire. It is reasonable that these poor creatures, tired of the squirrel-like performance, should have welcomed the mechanical contrivance of the roasting-jack.[3] The tourist describes one difficulty the epicure encountered under the ancient state of things:--'_Newcastle_ is a pleasant village; a decent inn here; a dog is employed as turnspit. Great care is taken that the animal does not observe the cook approach the larder; if he does he immediately hides himself for the remainder of the day, and the guest must be satisfied with more humble fare than intended.' Swansea. By T. Rowlandson. Cardiff Castle. By T. Rowlandson. Caerphilly Castle. By T. Rowlandson. The Hanging Tower at Caerphilly. By H. Wigstead. The Union of the Wye with the Severn, from Chepstow. Tintern Abbey. Raglan Castle. By T. Rowlandson. FOOTNOTES: [1] _Life of Nollekens_, vol. i. p. 79. [2] _Venus Chiding Cupid_, executed for Lord Yarborough. 'Nollekens was so provoked by an accident which happened to one of his figures during the Exhibition at Somerset House, that he threatened F. M. Newton, the Secretary, who made light of the affair, should this Venus be in any way injured, to break every bone in his skin.'--_Nollekens and his Times_, by John Thomas Smith. [3] 'The mode of teaching turnspits their business was more summary than humane. The dog was put in a wheel, and a burning coal with him; he could not stop without burning his legs, and so was kept on the full gallop. These dogs were by no means fond of their profession; it was indeed hard work to them in a wheel for two or three hours, turning a piece of meat which was twice their own weight. It is recorded of the turnspit-dogs of Bath that one Sunday, when they had, as usual, followed their mistresses to church, the lesson of the day happened to be that chapter of Ezekiel wherein the self-moving chariots are described. When the first word "wheel" was pronounced all the curs pricked up their ears in alarm; at the second "wheel" they set up a doleful howl; and when the dreaded word was uttered a third time every one of them scampered out of church as fast as he could, with his tail between his legs.'--John Foster, in Hone's _Everyday Book_, December 17, 1826. 1801. _January 1, 1801._ _The Epicure._ Published by S. W. Fores. (_See_ 1788.) _January 1, 1801._ _A Money Scrivener._ (Companion to _A Counsellor_.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--The scrivener inhabits a poor, squalid office; his clerk is perched on a high stool by the window. The worthy wears a nightcap, and has a quill behind his ear; he is poring over a ledger at a tumbledown desk; one finger on his nose illustrates his absorption in some weighty deliberation. Files of accounts and boxes of deeds and papers form the rest of the scrivener's surroundings. _January 1, 1801._ _A Counsellor._ Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly. [Illustration: A COUNSELLOR.] _January 1801._ _The Union._ Published by Ackermann.--Pitt, a burlesque St. George, clad in armour, is seated on the British bull, who is horn-locked, nose to nose, snorting forth challenges in the face of the furious Irish bull, on which is mounted St. Patrick, with mitre and crozier. The national Irish saint, whose beard gives him the expression of a Jew, is crying, ''Pon my conscience I don't know what you call it, but the deuce of anything like a Union do I see, except their horns being fastened together.' Pitt replies, 'Never fear, St. Patrick; all will be yet very well; they are a little restive at first, but they will take to it kindly enough by and by, I'll warrant you.' _January 1, 1801._ _A Jew Broker._ Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--Shylock, with his bond in the pocket of his gaberdine and his crutch-stick under his arm, is abstractedly polishing his glasses, although his watchful eyes are sharp enough without any artificial assistance, as he stands at the corner of Duke's Place, then the accepted rallying-point of his tribe. His face expresses a profoundly baffled emotion, which is portrayed with a masterly hand. He is musing, in abject despair, over a chance lost, a bargain missed, a gain which has slipped through his prehensile fingers. Some Antonio of our modern Venice founded on the shores of the Thames has escaped his toils; some point of law, a flaw in the indentures, mayhap, has been turned to account by a later 'Daniel come to judgment--a wise young judge,' to whom the disconcerted Hebrew is finally loth to offer his gratitude. He seemingly mumbles, with the pertinacity of Shylock:-- My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond. [Illustration: A JEW BROKER.] _January 15, 1801._ _The Brilliants_, (21-1/4 × 16.) Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--We are not prepared with any special particulars as to the foundation of this convivial club; but we may record a solitary gratuitous observation, that in spite of the melancholy and frequent carpings, on puritanical grounds, which are now in fashion, over the growing degeneracy of the times in which we live--the sanctimonious being given to assert that each succeeding generation inveterately surpasses the excesses of its predecessors--in the instances of drinking and gaming our ancestors went to extremes beside which our modern dissipations, in their wildest excesses, fall into paltry insignificance. The clubs of the past, in the item of iniquity, although the institution was in its infancy, surpassed those of the present day in such a degree that our 'fastest' haunts appear prudish by comparison. [Illustration: THE BRILLIANTS.] As to _The Brilliants_, we do not accept the scene, in its literal sense, as a faithful transcript of current amusements as practised at the commencement of the century; but, allowing for the exaggeration of burlesque, we are far from denying that it is founded on actual observation, in an age notoriously given to conviviality, which was carried, in all phases of society, beyond the bounds of discretion, and, in some instances, to a decree incredible in our times. Their Royal Highnesses the Princes of the Blood, their Graces the Dukes, the proverbially drunken Lords, the Right Honourable Ministers of State, Honourable Members of every political shade, and gallant and learned gentlemen of the various services and professions, were, with the rest of the community, without mentioning notorious and personal instances, under no restraint of decorum in regard to inebriety; and, if we may trust their own chroniclers, exhibited themselves without reserve as frequently drunk as sober. If, in our charitable concessions to the failings of our ancestors, we assume that our artist has exercised undue licence in the representation of their failings, from the president of _The Brilliants_ downwards, we must further take 'a grain of salt' to qualify our belief in the fidelity with which he has transmitted us the 'club rules.' It is impossible that any convivialist could continue to be 'brilliant' after his senses were diluted by the amount of fluid prescribed as a qualification for membership; the light that was in him must be effectally extinguished by the vinous drenching that was _de rigueur_:-- 'RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN THIS SOCIETY. '1st. That each member shall fill a half-pint bumper to the first toast. '2nd. That after twenty-four bumper toasts are gone round every member may fill as he pleases. '3rd. That any member refusing to comply with the above regulations to be fined, _i.e._ compelled to swallow a bumper of salt and water.' _January 15, 1801._ _Undertakers Regaling._ John Nixon, Esq., del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--This large plate, which is designed with a due appreciation of grim humour and tipsy jocularity, introduces the traditional relaxations of the funeral furnishers, whose jollifications are supposed to offer the most ghastly contrast to their sober professional duties. On a convenient plot of grass mutes, wandsmen, hearse-drivers, and all the other melancholy functionaries of the last rites of unconscious humanity, are picnicking with a true zest and appreciation of rural freedom. A substantial pie, and other suggestive 'funeral baked meats,' are being disposed of to the best advantage; but, excellent trenchermen though the undertakers may prove themselves, their main distinction must rest on their bibulous qualities; the members of the fraternity are applying themselves with hearty goodwill to the fluids, far on the road to becoming 'glorious,' while some of the party have already reached their congenial stage 'of half seas over.' These festivities, of course, take place in the vicinity of a 'house of call for funerals,' at the sign of 'The Owl,' in the neighbourhood of a burial-ground, the hospitable hostelry being kept by 'Robert Death,' whose inn is a resting-place for all returning hearses on that particular road. Groups of gentlemen engaged in the 'black business' are seated at tables, enjoying their long clay pipes, or otherwise diverting themselves with romping and horse-play; the members of another party, preparing to resume their route back to the metropolis, are on the roof of their hearse, their legs hanging over the side with pastoral-like simplicity, smoking their 'church-wardens' and hobnobbing their pewter quart pots with true bacchanalian appreciation of the enjoyments of the hour. The results of too indiscriminate indulgence are noticeable in the dangerous situation of those coaches which are attempting to 'homeward wend their melancholy way,' and are being overturned in the process by their tipsy drivers. [Illustration: SYMPTOMS OF SANCTITY.] _January 20, 1801._ _Symptoms of Sanctity._ Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--This subject--which, to say the least of it, is suggestively bold, though by no means, in our opinion, coming under the enumeration of 'risky _equivoque_'--might be fittingly described as Superstition and Sensuality; the pious belief, amounting to fanaticism, of the conventual 'Sister' contrasting strongly with the licentious impiety of the gross priest. _January 30, 1801._ _Single Combat, in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O!_ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The ring is formed in Moorfields, crowds of spectators are gathered around, the curious have climbed up every available point of sight, and observers are scrambling over the roofs. 'Magnanimous Paul O!' the mad Emperor, is represented as a Russian bear; his sword is tempered 'à la Suwarrow,' and his shield is inscribed 'Swallow all O!' The British champion, Pitt, encased in a demi-suit of mail, is jauntily meeting his adversery; the Minister's sword is tempered 'à la Nelson,' and the names of his redoubtable admirals, Howe, Duncan, Nelson, Jervis, and Parker, are the safeguards of his buckler. A Russian general, who is acting as his master's squire, is reading Paul's extraordinary cartel: 'Be it known to all men, that my master, the most magnanimous, most puissant, most powerful, and most wonderful Great Bear of the North, being in his sound and sober senses, challenges the whole world to single combat, and commences his first trial of skill here, in Moorfields, after which it is his intention to pursue his travels, and visit every Court in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America.' The Emperor Paul, who had acquired almost universal popularity at the commencement of his reign by putting himself at the head of the allied armies which were opposing the victorious career of Napoleon, now astonished his admirers in England by a complete change of policy. He proclaimed himself Grand Master of Malta, which had been conquered by us in 1800. The British Government refused to recognise his authority; the Emperor in revenge laid an embargo upon all British ships in Russian ports, and succeeded in inducing the Danish, Swedish, and Prussian Courts to enter into a convention to protect their commerce against the encroachments of the English. Gillray has drawn the ill-favoured and mad sovereign, under the title '_Mens turpe, corpore turpi_,' trampling on the treaty of alliance into which he had entered in concert with Austria and England. Some two months after the issue of this caricature the wayward tyranny of the Emperor, who gave unmistakable evidence of mental aberration, became insupportable, and he was requested to abdicate. Paul obstinately clung to absolute power, but in spite of his precautions a conspiracy was organised by his disgusted nobles, his palace was entered, and he was strangled with his own military scarf, which, by the way, the satirists always drew of extravagant dimencions well suited for such a purpose. It will be remembered that Paul's career was an unfortunate one, and the vicissitudes of his youth may have disordered his faculties. On his birth his father, Peter the Third, issued a ukase denying the legitimacy of his son's paternity: on the publication of this statement the Empress put her husband to death. Paul's earlier years were harassed by trouble, and the last act of his mother was a fruitless effort to exclude him from the succession. His reign commenced auspiciously; acts of clemency and munificence distinguished his government; as the head of the alliance against France he was looked upon as the legitimate champion of monarchy. After sharing the defeats sustained by the allied armies his views underwent a remarkable change. Buonaparte, with his matchless discrimination, contrived to flatter the Emperor's vanity, and, among other strokes of policy, returned all the Russian prisoners, well-armed and newly-clad. Paul now entered into a defensive alliance with France to drive the English out of India; and, to destroy our maritime supremacy, he established the Northern Confederation for the suppression of British commerce. The caricature _Single Combat in Moorfields_ is founded on an extraordinary proceeding, which filled Europe with astonishment at its unequalled eccentricity. The Emperor published an advertisement in the _Court Gazette_ of St. Petersburg, stating, to the amazement of the world, that, as 'the Powers could not agree among themselves, he intended to point out a spot, to which all the other sovereigns were invited to repair, TO FIGHT IN SINGLE COMBAT, bringing with them, as seconds and esquires, their most enlightened ministers and ablest generals.' His subjects were continually annoyed by acts of minor and fantastic oppression--such as an edict against 'round hats and pantaloons,' which he forbade any person to wear in his empire. He enforced the revival of hair-powder and pigtails, and issued a proclamation to compel all persons whom he encountered in the street to leave their carriages and prostrate themselves before him. No one was safe from his paroxysms. The carriage of the British Ambassador passed the Imperial Palace at a pace which the Emperor chose to consider disrespectful; he immediately ordered the coachman to be beaten, the horses to be beaten, and the carriage to be beaten. The Ambassador in return resented these indignities by discharging his servants, ordering his horses to be shot, and his carriage to be thrown into the Neva. An insane autocrat was found to be a formidable calamity. The favourable reception accorded to _Country Characters_, _Matrimonial Comforts_, &c., induced Woodward to design further successions of subjects, enlisting the assistance of Rowlandson to carry out his ideas. In 1801, the year following, appeared a series of broadsides, _Prayers_ and _Journals_; each sheet contained a coloured illustration, designed by Woodward and etched by Rowlandson; the space below the design was filled up with descriptive matter from Woodward's pen, that worthy being given to the cultivation of the various Muses in turn. The letterpress, which occupied the larger half of these broadsides, was printed by E. Spragg, 27 Bow Street, Covent Garden; and the series was published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Our readers will be able to form an impression of these compositions from the occasional extracts we offer; these _Prayers_, _Journals_, &c., are not of sufficient consequence to warrant us in offering repetitions at length. _February 10, 1801._ _The Old Maid's Prayer._ (Addressed to Diana.) Designed by Woodward. Published by T. Rowlandson. _February 10, 1801._ _The Epicure's Prayer._ Designed by Woodward. Published by T. Rowlandson. 1801. _The Maiden's Prayer._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--This petition is addressed to 'O thou divine little Cupid,' while the fair votary, who is still a susceptible and romantic boarding-school miss, is recounting her various love affairs, and praying the rosy deity to bless and make fortunate her several concealed (and imaginary) passions for such male creatures as she has chanced to encounter in the daily routine of school-life, the music-master, a drill-sergeant, Parson Pert, and similar characters, who are probably regarded with similar emotion by the remainder of the pupils. 1801. _The Miser's Prayer._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--The devotions of Old Avarice, which are necessarily very profound and earnest, are offered appropriately at the feet of his divinity, 'Plutus, God of Riches'; the temple of wealth is not exteriorly sumptuous; the carpet is a rag; a strong-box, a broken chair, and a rushlight make up the sordid furniture. The miser is confessing that he possesses nine houses, estates in Essex, mortgages in Hertford, large landed speculations in Russell Square and the neighbourhood, reversions of estates, trading ventures, 'Mermaid' sloop, funded property, Government securities, &c., &c.; he is beseeching an increase of his means, success to his investments, and a rise in the 'Stocks.' _June 4, 1801._ _The Widow's Prayer._--A widow, still young and blooming, is shown kneeling before the empty chair of the late lamented partner of her joys; the bereaved lady is looking forward to consolation; her supplications are offered to Hymen for a fourth spouse, and she is praying, that should the new husband who is to follow be as unfortunate as his predecessors, the number of happy men may be extended to seven; or more if need be. _June 25, 1801._ _The Maid of Allwork's Prayer._--The picture at the head of this invocation represents a neat and pretty young housemaid; she is offering up her petitions to the household gods who preside over cleanliness and good management. The desires of her heart are that a handsome fellow-servant may gain the humble worshipper and lead her into the _frying-pan_ of matrimony. Let these but be her _wages_ and she will submit cheerfully to her labours, nor ever breathe a sigh for greater liberty than to _make her bed_ in peace and sleep contented. _July 30, 1801._ _The Apothecary's Prayer_ is appropriately offered to Esculapius, and is truly professional in spirit, since the aspirations of the little knight of the pestle are turned to the increase of fevers, catarrhs, gout, cramp, agues, and infirmities in general, for the special advantage of his slack professional prospects and the good of his generous ally the undertaker, who is in need of the apothecary's friendly co-operation, the demand for funerals having fallen off of late. _July 30, 1801._ _The Quack Doctor's Prayer_ is addressed, over a chest of patent quack medicines, to the illustrious shade of the renowned Doctor Rock. The empiric candidly confesses that his miraculous _Cure-all-able Vegetable Drops_, _Never Infailibus Infallibus_, supposed to issue from the laboratory of Esculapius himself, are nothing more than a decoction of beetroot, lump-sugar, spring-water, cognac brandy, and Hollands gin. The Quack Doctor prays that his carriages and equipages, his town and country residences, and all other good things of life, may be continued to reward his impudent charlatanism. _August 1, 1801._ _The Stockjobber's Prayer_ is prayed by the pious speculator, bank-book in hand, and is offered to the adorable and ancient Lady of Threadneedle Street. The wishes of the stockjobber refer to 'rises in the Funds' and 'undertakings in the _Alley_,' and conclude with a pious hope that he may never have the misfortune to '_waddle out_ a poor and neglected lame duck.' _August 1, 1801._ _The Female Gambler's Prayer_ commences with an invocation: 'Enchanting Pharaoh, thee I address with a heart teeming with gratitude for all the favours showered on thy ardent worshipper. Thy name, O mighty Pharaoh, is derived from the Hebrew, literally to _make bare_, and well thou knowest I delight to make bare, even to the last feather, the pigeon that flies to my midnight orgies.' The petition concludes with an entreaty that the Right Honourable Fraternity of Gamblers may be protected from the strictures of Lord Kenyon (who had commenced a crusade against fashionable gamblers, and had especially made attacks on those ladies of rank who encouraged tables in their houses), and their persons preserved from all the dire horrors of the stocks and pillory, with which this inflexible judge had threatened the incorrigible, if any person could be found to bring them within his jurisdiction. _August 10, 1801._ _The Actress's Prayer._--'Hear me, Dramatic Sisters, gay Thalia and sublime Melpomene; be guardians to your supplicant and aid her in her profession.... I pray thee, should I ever reach the boards of a London theatre, may my terms be as enormous as my abilities are conspicuous, and finally my labours be crowned with the _coronet_ of honour, and that I may become a convert to domestic happiness.' _August 10, 1801._ _The Jockey's Prayer_ is put up to Nimrod. The aspirations of the hero of the turf tend to a wife--'a pretty well-bred filly, one that would come easily to collar, prance to the Circus of Hymen, and run with her owner the generous race of mutual affection.' _September 5, 1801._ _The Cook's Prayer._--The fat mistress of the spit has gone down on her knees before the roaring fire, beside which are the preparations for dinner. Her prayer is addressed to all the gods and goddesses whose celestial appetites are not too refined to relish the good things of this world. She beseeches their influence to continue her a twelvemonth longer in the service of Alderman Gobble, and then, with the little perquisites she has hashed together, she may be able to enter on a certain eating-house in Pye Corner, which she has longed for these three years. She concludes by entreating that the bosom of John the Coachman may be moved to become her partner in the concern. _September 12, 1801._ _The Sailor's Prayer._--'O mighty Neptune! hear an honest British Tar; thou knowest I trouble not thy godship every day, and I therefore pray thee to grant my prayer, for I love not long palavering and that there, d'ye see ... Worthy Master Neptune! send us a good prize, I beseech thee, and be not sparing in brandy and tobacco. Give us also a few chests of the Don's dollars, for Mounseer hasn't got none--no more than there is in your three-pronged boat-hook.' _September 20, 1801._ _The Publican's Prayer._--'Holy Silenus, father of all-inspiring Bacchus, continue, I beseech you, the custom of the original Golden Lion, and inspire me, its landlord, with becoming gratitude for all thy favours. Grant me success, I pray thee, with the rich widow of the adjoining street, whom thou knowest I adore; send that she may frequently look into the bar, till in time she becomes its fixed ornament. Grant but this addition to my stock in trade, and I have nothing to ask thee for but plenty of smuggled spirits and protection from the exciseman.' _September 20, 1801._ _Poll of Portsmouth's Prayer_ is addressed to Thetis. The supplications of this damsel, who is gaily attired in bright colours, and ornamented with numerous coral necklaces, bracelets, watches, seals, lockets, and trinkets, gifts from tars at sea, are directed to prayers for the safe and speedy return of her numerous generous admirers, then on board their ships. 1801. _The Lottery Office Keeper's Prayer._--This invocation is offered by a prosperous-looking individual to Dame Fortune, whose portrait forms the signboard of his establishment, 'Peter Puff's Lucky Lottery Office.' He prays the blindfold goddess to grant insurance to his schemes, so that they may turn up prizes, and prevent his looking blank when bowing at the altar of his divinity. 'And lastly, I pray thee, with the indulgent aid of mighty superiferous Somnus, to cause all old women and children to dream incessantly on the advantages gained by venturing in the lottery; so shall the nocturnal visions of old chairs and tables be converted into lucky numbers, and thy humble petitioner benefited thereby.' _March 18, 1801._ _The Union Head-dress._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A pair of busts, the fancy portraits of two highly-caricatured individuals, whose faces wear a most dejected expression, from whose respective foreheads branch a pair of well-defined horns.--'This style of decoration represents "The Union Head-dress," successively worn by many respectable citizens since the days of Noah; for its simplicity and elegance it cannot be too much admired. Respectfully dedicated to the fashion-mongers of 1801.' The satire of this print, which appears somewhat coarse and uncalled-for, is levelled at the fashion, which raged contemporaneously with its publication, for embodying in the reigning mode any event which happened to be stirring, no matter its frivolity or gravity, as the case might be. The accomplishment of the union between England and Ireland was seized by the milliners and fashion-mongers as the excuse for a thousand extravagances in head-dresses, combining supposititious emblems of the twin kingdoms with allusions to their happy conjunction. _April 2, 1801._ No. 1, _Taste_. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _April 2, 1801._ No. 2, _Fashion_. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _April 2, 1801._ No. 3, _Elegance_. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _April 2, 1801._ No. 4, _Fancy_. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _May 1, 1801._ _Boot-Polishing._ G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _July 12, 1801._ _Light Summer Hat and Fashionable Walking-stick._ Published by R. Ackermann. _July 20, 1801._ _The Toper's Mistake._ G. M. Woodward inv. Published by R. Ackermann. 1801. _Rag Fair._ Published by R. Ackermann. _September, 1801._ _An Old Member on his way to the House of Commons._ T. Rowlandson del. Published by R. Ackermann.--The old Member and his dog are passing, on their way to the Houses of Parliament, through Lisle Street, evidently a spot of some temptation to the personage who forms the subject of the caricature, an eccentric celebrity, without doubt, at the time of the publication. The establishment of Mrs. Woods is evidently the rock a-head which threatens the venerable senator; Mrs. Woods, the lady abbess, is, with one of her decoying nymphs, standing at the door of her mansion; two more syrens are beckoning the passer-by from a window, and various houris appear above, all issuing their invitations to the M.P., an individual of consideration. The amorous character of the vicinity is indicated by the circumstances surrounding a coach, which is driving by. The coachman has a pretty girl on his box, and while he is publicly saluting her cheek, his fare, an officer, is kissing a fair companion in the vehicle, and two street Arabs, a boy and a girl, are stealing a ride on the back, and they too are indulging in a loving embrace, disregarding the insecurity of their situation. 1801. Four subjects on a sheet.--_Here's your potatoes, four full pounds for two pence!_ _Light, your Honour, Coach unhired._ _Buy my roses, dainty sweet briar!_ _Pray remember the blind._ Designed and executed by T. Rowlandson. Republished 1811. _September 12, 1801._ _A Sailor Mistaken._ G. M. Woodward. Published by R. Ackermann. _December 20, 1801._ _Gig-hauling, or Gentlemanly Amusement for the Nineteenth Century._ G. M. Woodward inv. Published by R. Ackermann. 1802. _February 25, 1802._ _Friendly Accommodation._ Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _March 1, 1802._ _The Monstrous Craws, or a New-Discovered Animal._ Published by R. Ackermann. _May 1, 1802._ _A Man of Fashion's Journal._--Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 'Queer dreams, owing to Sir Richard's claret, always drink too much of it--rose at one--dressed by half-past three--took an hour's ride--a good horse, my last purchase, remember to sell him again--nothing like variety--dined at six with Sir Richard--said several good things--forgot 'em all--in high spirits--quizzed a parson--drank three bottles and loung'd to the theatre--not quite clear about the play--comedy or tragedy--forget which--saw the last act--Kemble toll-loll--not quite certain whether it was Kemble or not--Mrs. Siddons monstrous fine--got into a hack--set down in St. James's Street--dipp'd a little with the boys at hazard--confounded bad luck--lost all my money.' _May 1, 1802._ _A Woman of Fashion's Journal._--Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 'Dreamt of the Captain--certainly a fine man--counted my card money--lost considerably--never play again with the Dowager--breakfasted at _two_ ... dined at seven at Lady Rackett's--the Captain there--more than usually agreeable--went to the Opera--the Captain in the party--house prodigiously crowded--my _ci-devant_ husband in the opposite box--rather _mal à propos_--but no matter--_telles choses sont_--looked into Lady Squander's _roût_--positively a mob--sat down to cards--in great luck--won a cool hundred of my Lord Lackwit, and fifty of the Baron--returned home at five in the morning--indulged in half-an-hour's reflection--resolved on reformation, and erased my name from the Pic-Nic Society.' _May 20, 1802._ _The Sailor's Journal._--Two members of the fleet, in the famous days of prize-money, are seated at table with a punch-bowl between them. One of them is smoking old Virginia, while his friend is favouring him with certain extracts from his diary, of which the following must serve as a sample: 'Entered the port of London. Steered to Nan's lodgings and unshipped my cargo; Nan admired the shiners--so did the landlord--gave 'em a handful a-piece--emptied a bottle of the right sort with the landlord to the health of his honour Lord Nelson--All three set sail for the play--got a berth in a cabin on the larboard side--wanted to smoke a pipe, but the boatswain wouldn't let me--remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the cabins right a-head. Saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck--hailed him--the signal returned. Some of the land-lubbers in the cockpit began to laugh--tipped 'em a little foremast lingo till they sheered off--emptied the grog bottle--fell fast asleep--dreamt of the battle off Camperdown--my landlord told me the play was over--glad of it--crowded sail for a hackney coach--got on board--squally weather--rather inclined to be sea-sick--gave the pilot a two-pound note, and told him not to mind the change. In the morning looked over my rhino--a great deal of it, to be sure--but I hope, with the help of a few friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the honour and glory of old England.' _May 28, 1802._ _Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests, a Litigation between Snip, a tailor, and Galen Glauber, a quack._ Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.--A justice, with his legal library at hand (_Game Laws_, _Penal Laws_, _Vagrant Act_, _Blackstone_, &c.) for ready reference, is sitting to investigate a delicate case. A working tailor, who is snapping his shears at his adversary, in the excitement of the cause, and dressed as he has left his shop-board, is the plaintiff; the defendant has brought a pair of nether garments into court as evidence; he is resolutely endeavouring to support his case, while the small clothes in question are held out at the end of his cane for the investigation of the obviously reluctant judge, who does not appear to relish the too familiar vicinity of such unusual testimony. _June 15, 1802._ _A Parish Officer's Journal._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--'Rose early and reflected on the dignity of my office--put on my wig to create awe and reverence in my family. Betty, my wife's new maid, not sufficiently struck by my appearance--a great deal too free--remember to give her warning--dined with the gentlemen at the _Cat and Bagpipes_--returned home soon in order to prepare for the evening's entertainment--had half-an-hour's bickering with my wife to keep up my consequence--and set out to meet my parish friends at the _George_, where we made a most excellent supper, on the profits of a _child_, and adjusted several weighty parochial concerns while partaking of the good things the landlord prepared for us--which consisted of rumps of beef, legs of mutton, suet puddings, fat geese, onions, and other light delicate articles--spent the evening very convivially, and made up another party for the day ensuing.' _June 10, 1802._ _How to Pluck a Goose._ Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand. _June 25, 1802._ _La Fille mal gardé, or Jack in the Box._ Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.--An old miser, with a portentous bunch of keys, has, in imagination only, secured his treasure, and he is further prepared to insure the safety of a fair charge by the same precaution of locking her in a well-defended chamber; the windows are heavily cross-barred, a blunderbuss and a rattle hang ready to hand, as precautions against intruders; but no danger threatens from without, the risk is nearer within; the miser's strong box has evidently changed its contents, since the rising lid discloses a smart young officer, who only requires the door to be fastened before he appears on the scene. The intriguing damsel, with averted head and her finger on her lips, is inculcating caution to the impatient captive. _July 1, 1802._ _Comfort in the Gout._ (See 1785.) Republished by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly. [Illustration: A LADY IN LIMBO, OR JEW BAIL REJECTED.] _July 1, 1802._ _A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected._ Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--A 'fine lady,' presumably an _Anonyma_ of the period, finds herself in the fastness of a spunging house; she is made as welcome as circumstances will permit; a bottle of wine, the refreshment customary, is ordered, and the stern hearts of the sheriff's men are appealed to, while bail is sent for. It was a well-known practice at the beginning of the century, and earlier, to pay some obscure individual a trifling fee to become security on emergencies. Similar fictitious householders were always in attendance, and producible from the bar-rooms in the neighbourhood. In the present case a professional limb, of the Hebrew persuasion, is presented, decently made up for the occasion, to tender himself as bondsman for the lady's due appearance. It is evident, however, that a suspicious recognition is taking place; 'Harry Holdfast, Officer to the Four Counties,' or his deputy, does not, judging from his expression, seem to approve of the surety, and the Jew looks somewhat disconcerted under his inspection. The tears of the unfortunate captive, and the plausible reassurances--as to the respectability of the bail offered--of her chaperone, or duenna, are powerless to move the stoic breast of the experienced catchpole. [Illustration: SLYBOOTS.] _July 1, 1802._ _Slyboots._ Published by S. W. Fores.--Slyboots and her cat are snuggled up by the fire, full of fun and friskiness; it is difficult to determine which looks the more mischievous of the pair. The exhortations of the preacher against the vanities of life, seem a trifle out of place here, or, at all events, his denunciations are not likely to produce any lasting impressions on such mercurial souls. _July 1, 1802._ _Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed._ (See November 1785.) Republished by S. W. Fores. _July 1, 1802._ _Jockeyship._ Published by S. W. Fores. _July 1, 1802._ _A Snip in a Rage._ Published by Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.--An infuriated tailor has intruded his head and shoulders through the window of a frail fair's bedchamber, which he has reached by means of a ladder resting against the sill. The tailor, with his measure round his neck, is snipping his shears viciously above the head of a blushing maiden, who is covered with becoming confusion at her detection. The figure of a sturdy apprentice, seen disappearing in the rear, is sufficient to account for the _contre-temps_. _July 18, 1802._ _The Corporal in Good Quarters._ Published by S. Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.--The marvellous influence of a red coat is the subject of the present sketch. Who can resist a dashing young soldier? The rustic beauty seems unequivocally smitten, and does not disguise the compromising fact that 'she dotes on the military.' The gallant son of Mars has been quartered on a prosperous farmer, who loves good cheer and brave company; the corporal is made welcome at bed and board, and the best in the house is prepared for his delectation. The venerable Hawbuck does not, however, seem pleased with the way his guest is carrying on with his buxom daughter, who is but too clearly smitten with the soldier's charming freedoms and his fine feathers; it is more than the parent bargained for, and even his dog is looking on with astonishment. But the scandalised parent and the young rustic lounging in the doorway, possibly an acknowledged sweetheart, are at a discount; their authority is likely to be set at defiance. As for the disconcerted swain whose dejected air and attitude express the profundity of his despair, he will probably do something desperate; in dudgeon at his blighted hopes he may very likely fall under the beguiling corporal's spell, offer himself as a recruit, be 'listed, and thenceforth forsake the plough-tail to follow the drum; a lasting text against one of the many evils consequent upon the maintenance of a standing army. [Illustration: THE CORPORAL IN GOOD QUARTERS.] _August 30, 1802._ _A Musical Family._ Published by R. Ackermann. _September 12, 1802._ _Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart-ache._ Designed and published by Thomas Rowlandson. Republished 1811. Were I not resolv'd against the yoke Of hapless marriage, never to be curst With second Love, so fatal was the first, To this one error I might yield again.--DRYDEN. 'Deborah Crossstich departed this life September 5, 1802, aged 62.' The body of the departed wife is laid out in her coffin, propped on trestles; on the plate let into the lid is engraved the above affecting inscription. The lamenting spouse is far gone in a mixed state of grief, intoxication, and maudlin affection; he is making laudable efforts to resign himself to his recent bereavement, and is endeavouring to allay his sorrow, between the combined consolations of drink and the tender solicitudes of a favourite maid, who is exerting herself to administer comfort to her afflicted master, with her arm round his neck. The personal belongings of the deceased--her watch, little articles of jewellery, and plate--have evidently been ransacked by this affectionate pair of unaffected and disinterested mourners. An open book displays this familiar quotation, bearing somewhat disrespectful application to the case of the departed:-- A smoky house and a scolding wife Are the plagues of man's life. Oh, what pleasure will abound When my wife is laid in ground! _November 20, 1802._ _Doctor Convex and Lady Concave._ Published by R. Ackermann. 1802. _Hunt the Slipper, Pic-Nic Revels._ Rowlandson del. and publisher. Men are but children of a larger growth.--SHAKESPEARE. The chairs have been cleared out of a large apartment, and a party of full-grown men and women, some of whom have long passed maturity, are seated on the floor for a game at 'high jinks.' Bowls of punch, bottles of wine, and abundant refreshments of a strong nature, are put on the ground behind, within easy reach of the revellers, who are in the full enjoyment of a boisterous game of 'hunt the slipper.' The party is made up of an abundance of pretty rosy damsels, blooming, blushing, and smiling, such as Rowlandson with his etching needle or his reed pen could produce at will, and in every degree of perfection; corpulent matrons, dowagers, and gothic old maids are likewise plentiful. There is a gentleman to every lady, and the whole scene is a very animated one; while the fun is apparently appreciated by the performers, who are entering into the spirit of the diversion. The rules of the Society are framed on the wall:-- Ici on boit, on danse, on rit! Et quelquefois on joue aussi. Two pictures, hung over the doors, are supposed to be indicative of the subject. _Vive la Bagatelle!_ a party in pursuit of a balloon; and _Sans Souci, sans six sous_, a bacchanalian revel. 1802. _Salt Water._ Published at 24 Lower Sackville Street.--A bathing scene. _July 1, 1802._ _Who's Mistress now?_ Published by S. Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.--The scene is a kitchen; a servant is disporting herself before a large glass, in borrowed plumage, in the hat, feathers, and train of her mistress, and flourishing a fan; meanwhile a group of amused spectators are peeping in at the pantry door; while the cat, more practically inclined, has knocked over a dish, and is availing herself of the opportunity of making off with a fine fish prepared for dinner. 1802. _Compendious Treatise on Modern Education._ By J. B. Willyams, from Notes by the late Joel M'Cringer, D.D., 8 plates by T. Rowlandson, oblong 4to. 1802. _Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature, and other admirable rarities._ Edward Jones, bard to the Prince of Wales. Coloured frontispiece by T. Rowlandson. 1803. _February 1, 1803._ _Signiora Squallina._ _February 1, 1803._ _Sweet Lullaby._ _February 1, 1803._ _Queer Fish._ _February 1, 1803._ _Recruits._ (See 1811.) _March 1, 1803._ _A Catamaran, or an Old Maid's Nursery._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street. _March 1, 1803._ _Richmond Hill_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann. _March 1, 1803._ _Billiards_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann. _April 1, 1803._ _The Road to Ruin._ Published by S. W. Fores. _April 6, 1803._ _A Diver._ T. Rowlandson invt., 1803. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The figure introduced under this title is perhaps as droll as any which Rowlandson has drawn. The scene represents the interior of _a Bagnio_, '_Hot and Cold Baths_, _cupping_, _sweating_, &c., &c.' From the picture it would seem that the bath-attendants of the period, who administered the rough towellings and flesh brushings, which are indicated in the plate, were not of the sex one generally expects to find discharging these functions in our own day. In the case of _The Diver_ no very glaring impropriety is suggested--the individual in question is like a ball of flesh; the image, on an exaggerated scale, of the Chinese joss-figures, and literally perfectly spherical; his quaint image is reflected in the water as he plunges forward in a sort of cricket-ball bound; a print of Narcissus gazing on his form in the fountain, suspended on the wall, suggests a sufficiently striking contrast. _April 12, 1803._ _Ducking a Scold._ _May 1, 1803._ _John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs._ (Treaty of Amiens.) Published by R. Ackermann.--John Bull, with his hair standing on end, is listening, stooping, with his hands on his knees--'I declare my very wig stands on end with curiosity. What can they be quarrelling about? Oh that I could be let into the secret! If I ax our gentleman concerning it, 'tis ten to one if he tells me the right story. Buonaparte, with his cocked hat on, and his great sword by his side, is insisting on his arguments, 'And so--if you do so--I do so!' 'Jurisprudist,' a gentleman of the black robe (possibly meant for the Chancellor), appears very uncomfortable at the Corsican's decided attitude; he is crying in consternation, 'Oh!' _June 21, 1803._ _A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral._ (See June 21, 1808.) _July 1, 1803._ _A Stage Coach._ _July 10, 1803._ _Flags of Truth and Lies._ Published by R. Ackermann.--John Bull, as an honest Jack Tar, is holding out the Union Jack, and pointing to his inscription in reply to the message of intimidation set forth on the tricolour, held out by a huge-booted, long-queued Frenchman, a composite being between a soldier and postilion:--'Citizen First Consul Buonaparte presents compliments and thanks to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, who have honoured him with their visits at Paris, and intends himself the pleasure of returning it in person as soon as his arrangements for that purpose can be completed.' 'Mon grand Maître, bid a you read dat, Monsieur.' John Bull replies: 'Um, let your Grand Master read that, Mounseer':--'John Bull does not rightly understand the Chief Consul's lingo, but supposes he means something about invasion; therefore the said John Bull deems it necessary to observe that if his consular Highness dares attempt to invade any ladies or gentlemen on his coast, he'll be damned if he don't sink him!' 1804. _January 1, 1804._ _Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites._ Published by S. W. Fores. _January 2, 1804._ _A French Ordinary._ (Originally published in 1801.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--The attractions of a cheap French table d'hôte are ludicrously set forth; while the ravenous diners are represented making the best use of their opportunities within the _salle à manger_, the delicate character of the attendance and the culinary department are slyly hinted. We are admitted to the secrets of _la cuisine Française_, as they have seemingly been revealed to the caricaturist. The slovenly old cook is emptying the morsels left from the plates of the customers, into the capacious _pot-au-feu_, to reappear dished up for succeeding _convives_. A lean cat is seated in the frying pan, probably in course of fattening for the spit; as to the larder, the main provisions consist of dead cats and frogs; it was an accepted axiom that all the _Jean Crapauds_, as our Gallic neighbours were playfully christened by John Bull, lived more or less on frogs. Rowlandson, as we have shown, had French relatives, and had studied in Paris and spoke the language with fluency; while those travellers who were familiar with native habits, from travelling abroad, stoutly maintained that such were the staples of the national food, being convinced of the truth of the formula, as asserted by the waggish Peter Pindar--'I've liv'd among them and have eat their frogs!' [Illustration: A FRENCH ORDINARY.] _June 8, 1804._ _Light Volunteers on a March._ Published by R. Ackermann. _June 8, 1804._ _Light Infantry Volunteers on a March._ Published by Ackermann. _July 31, 1804._ _The Imperial Coronation._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The platform which has been erected for this celebration is more suggestive of an execution than a coronation; a body of the old Guards, in their bear-skin caps, surround the raised space. The Pope is present in full canonicals, to perform the ceremony in person. A gallows has been considerately provided, in order to lower the imperial crown on to the brows of the future wearer more conveniently. On the gallows is painted, 'Patrick Death, Gibbet-maker to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Gulls.' The Pope, who holds the string, which works over a pulley, and suspends the Crown, is crying somewhat irreverently: 'In a little while you shall see him, and in a little while you shall not see him.' The weight of the diadem is too much for the wearer and his new throne, the planks of the platform are broken through, and the future emperor is sinking beneath, while calling to his confederate Talleyrand, 'My dear Talleyrand, save me! my throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a cursed deal of mending!' His prime minister is much concerned, 'Ah, master, the crown is too heavy for you!' Another pillar of the Church is pointing out that the Corsican has not acted with his usual cunning, 'You forgot your old Uncle, the new bishop--if you had made me Pope I should have let the crown down easier!' The ceremony is parodied in the background, monkeys taking the place of the actual performers, only in this case the imperial ape is seated in state, with sceptre and orb, in greater security. 1804. _Theatrical Leap-frog._ Published by Ackermann, Strand.--The young Roscius, as an infant prodigy, is flying over the back of Kemble, both the performers being dressed in the habit then customary for Hamlet--'Alas!' cries Kemble, 'is it come to this? Ah, woe is me! seeing what I have seen, seeing what I see! O Roscius!' _December, 1804._ _Melpomene in the Dumps, or Child's Play defended by Theatrical Monarchs._ Published by Ackermann, Strand.--Mrs. Siddons in tragic swathings, one arm resting on a table, her other hand extended in an interlocutory attitude, while her foot is resting on a stool; on the table are books--_Salary Benefits_, _The Rights of Woman_, and _The Duty of Man_. On the wall is hung Bunbury's _Propagation of a Lie_. John Philip Kemble is resting his hand on her shoulder, and another gentleman, hat in hand, is pointing with his finger to a shorter figure, probably intended for the person of Colonel Topham, Editor of _The World_, '_More Soldier than Scholar!_' THE DEBATE OR ARGUMENT. _Melpomene._ And pray, Mr. Monarch, how long am I to be confined to this _box fever_, or nervous rheumatism in my loins? A pretty business you have made of this season; what between your _Blind Bargain_ and _Infant Roscius_, you think to send me to the ground; but let me caution you, that 'if once I do but stir or lift this arm, the best of you shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know how this foul rout began, who set it on, and he that is approved in the offence, though he hath twinned with me, _both at a birth_ shall lose me.' _First Monarch._ [Probably intended to designate Sheridan.] Why really, Madam, all I can say in my defence or that of my _Infant_ is this, that if John Bull chooses to feed on slink calf, instead of substantial roast beef, _yet consents to pay for the roast_, it is not for me to complain; but, Madam, should there be a fault laid at my charge, let me tell you it is not entirely mine; your brother here, beside me, has had _his share_ in it, and between friends, I must observe, that you have had your day; and if a good salary during this _Infant fever_ and frigid weather cannot encourage you to wear flannel, gird up your loins, and rest contented on your arm (I mean arms). I will be bound to say, you are not the woman I took you for; and rather than _be subject_ to such complaints while I _reign_ 'King of shreds and patches,' I would forego the advantages of government, and 'live on scraps at proud men's surly doors.' _Second Monarch._ [John Philip Kemble, otherwise familiarly designated _Black Jack_.] Sister, be of comfort, our friend speaks home; you may relish him more in the soldier than the scholar, but though his oratory is bad, his _argumentum argentum_ is good; his voice like mine is husky; but his _silver_ tones are delightful. It is true we have both had our day; 'our May of life is gone; 'tis fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age' _we have got_. 'The world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Public taste is similar, it is now in second childishness; and when mere oblivion takes place, then you shall make a sally, and should the Town require a _filip_,[4] I will be at your elbow. _December 14, 1804._ _The Death of Madame République._--The moribund République is stretched on her death-bed, the tricolour cockade is worn on the side of her nightcap; by the side are bottles of _Purging Mixture_ and _Laudanum_. _Vive la Liberté_ and _Vive la République_ are put out of sight; the Abbé Sièyes, as doctor, is holding the new Emperor, an infant in long clothes, the crown is on his head, a sceptre and orb are in either hand. John Bull, spectacles on nose, and with his hand in his waistcoat pocket, has stepped in; he is much astonished at the change of affairs: 'Pray Mr. Abbé Sièyes, what was the cause of the poor Lady's death? She seemed at one time in a tolerable thriving way.' 'She died in childbed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor!' 1804. _A New French Phantasmagoria._ (The date 1805 in one corner.)--Napoleon Buonaparte, with the Imperial crown, sceptre, orb, and robes of state, is holding out his hand, with impertinent condescension, crying, 'What! my old friend, Mr. Bull, don't you know me?' John Bull is dressed in sailor fashion, as the 'champion of the seas;' there is an air of satirical quizzing about his features, and, in order that he may be able to distinguish his transmogrified acquaintance, he has mounted a pair of huge magnifiers, 'Bless me, what comes here, it's time to put on my large spectacles, and tuck up my trousers! Why, surely, it can't be?--it is Boney too, for all that; why, what game be'est thee at now? Acting a play mayhap? What hast thee got on thy head there? Always at some new freak or other.' 1804. _A Compendious Treatise of Modern Education_, in which the following interesting subjects are liberally discussed: The Nursery, Private Schools, Public Schools, Universities, Gallantry, Duelling, Gaming, and Suicide; to which are added coloured designs, both characteristic and illustrative. By Joel M'Cringer, D.D., F.R.S., folio. Letters from the hand of the caricaturist are scarce, and however familiar collectors may be with Rowlandson's touch, and even his caligraphy, on his numberless drawings in Indian ink, the productions of his famous reed-pen, it is very seldom that samples of his familiar correspondence are to be met with. We print one example, not as an instance of his brilliancy in composition, or as representing any valuable literary disclosure, but simply as illustrating that the artist's circumstances were not too flourishing at the period under consideration. The original also contains a sketch, and is exhibited to the public in one of the cases of the British Museum (Manuscript Department), among a collection of interesting autographs of eminent men. 29,300 G. Ad^{1}. MSS. Purchased 6 June, 1871. Letter to James Heath. Engraver. Upper Charlotte Street Fitzroy Square. This note is written in Indian ink, of the consistency mixed by the Caricaturist for his outlines. No. 1 James Street, Adelphi. March 1st, 1804. Friend Heath. 'Tis with sorrow I relate that my own finances and the little sway I have with the long-pursed gentry--obliges me to retire before the plays are ended. I hope you will not say, as they do at Drury (No money returned after the curtain is drawn up). The Bill sent in says Nine Numbers, Eight only have been received, the Ninth mentioned in your letter as being delivered November the First, since my return to Town, has, through some mistake, never come to hand. I also possess a receipt from you for £2. 2. 0, and as I hope you call me a tradesman and poor, you will make out a fresh Bill, and that we shall verify the old proverb of Short Reckonings make Long Friends. I remain sincerely yours, THO^S ROWLANDSON. FOOTNOTE: [4] 'My Lord Loggerhead spells physician with an F, hem! hem!'--Doctor Pangloss, _Heir at Law_. 1805. _February 3, 1805._ _Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-gatherers._ Published by Howitt, 73 Wardour Street, Soho.--Taxation in 1805 raised a great deal of bad feeling; the satirists treated the increased imposts, and the methods of collecting them, from their point of view, and made the public smile at ills to which perforce they were compelled to submit. The house of a quack practitioner in 'Rotten Row,' one Dr. Humbug, at the sign of the Golden Pestle of Hippocrates, who advertises 'advice gratis' on his front door, is the scene of a general muster of the inquisitors and collectors of taxes. _Window Tax_, _Income_, _Property_, _House_, _Servants_, _Horses_, _Dogs_, _&c._, are among the requisitions to be levied. _The Budget opened, or how to raise the wind for the year 1805_ explains these visitations. The quack and his wife are declining to admit their duns; they are surveying the besieging party from an upper window, and the _goodwill_ of their house is, according to a placard, _to be disposed of_. The prospect of 'Houses to Let' and of windows 'Blocked up' shows that taxation was pressing with over-severity, and had, in reality, been carried beyond a joke. _February 25, 1805._ _The Famous Coal Heaver, Black Charley, looking into the Mouth of the Wonderful Coal Pit._ Published by Ackermann. Described by an English Yeoman. (Here follows a long description turning on 'the fundamental deficiency.')--Fox, in blue and buff, on his hands and knees, is staring with a look of astonishment into the mouth of a large head of Pitt, beside which flourishes a Scotch thistle (for Dundas), and around is a thicket of _scrubs_, which are interlaced over a bench, with T.B. (Treasury Bench) cut on it. _April 23, 1805._ _The Modern Hercules cleansing the Augean Stable._--'Augeas, a king of Elis, had a stable which was not cleansed for thirty years, yet Hercules cleansed it in one day.'--_Heathen Mythology._ The modern Hercules, wrapped round with his lion's skin, is making use of a monster measure, _Whitbread's Entire_, with the contents of which he is freely deluging the St. Stephen's stables. The abbot of St. Stephen's, with mitre and crozier, ensconced in his niche, is in consternation at the work going on. The horses are all standing with their heads turned to their stalls, and their hoofs to the purifier. Dundas (Lord Melville) is kicking with energy, crying 'What the Deel is the man aboot?' Wilberforce's 'Broom for the suppression of Vice' is between his legs, and before him is a huge private chest for stray provender, with money bags outside. Trotter stands next; he cries, 'Attack the Gallopers! I am only a poor Trotter.' Pitt, a very bony steed, is crying, 'I am afraid we shall all be drenched in turn;' and a crowd of others are thrown into confusion at their prospects, saying, 'Who could have expected this?' Against the wall are stalls stored with money-bags from end to end: 'Navy Stall,' 'Army Stall,' 'Treasury Stall,' &c. _April 23, 1805._ _The Fifth Clause, or Effect of Example._ Published by T. Rowlandson. _April 28, 1805._ _A Scotch Sarcophagus._ Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.--The Sarcophagus is of handsome design; two cherubims, in Scotch bonnets, surmount the lid; two devils, evidently much shocked, appear on the sides. Two Highlanders, in full kilt and tartan dresses, are standing as mourners, one is leaning weeping with his elbow on the urn, the other is seeking comfort in his snuff mull. _Stop, Traveller, and read._ Within this Sarcophagus, composed of Scotch pebbles, are deposited the political remains of JOHNNY MAC-CREE and his faithful servant JOHN TROTT. In respect to the former, suffice it to say that he was a strenuous friend to all Reports that reverberated to his advantage, whether proceeding from a first rate or a Catamaran Explosion. At length a Tenth Report, aided by an obstruction in the Thorax from the fifth clause, finished his Political Career. Mourn, Scotsmen, Mourn! For though he was a swift galloper on the high road of Peculation, yet his friend John, who lies beside him, was only his inferior in being but a simple Trotter, in the grand and Sublime scale marked out by his Worthy Preceptor. They took their departure on Monday, April 8, 1805. Peace to their Political Manes! _May 15, 1805._ _John Bull's Turnpike Gate._--On a hill is an abbey church, lighted up with the glory of 'King, Church, and Constitution.' John Bull, standing before his turnpike, is guarding the pathway; on a ledge beside the post is placed a formidable work, the _Test Oath_. The Pope, with mitre, crozier, and hood, is mounted on his pontifical ass. 'Mr. Bull,' he says, 'I have been to Paris and seen all the fine sights there. I now want to have a peep at that little church on the hill, therefore let me pass the turnpike.' J. B. replies: 'If you want to go through pay the toll; what the devil do you think I keep a turnpike gate for?' A crowd of dissenters, quakers, &c., in the Pope's rear, are anxious to enjoy the opportunity: 'Though I boast not gaudy trappings,' says a quaker, 'nor am I mounted on ass-back, yet if he goeth through, verily I should like to go through also!' 'Verily so should I!' 'We should all like to go through!' _May 25, 1805._ _A Sailor's Will._ Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann. _July 8, 1805._ _The Scotch Ostrich seeking Cover._--'In the natural history of the ostrich it has been observed that when the bird is closely pursued he runs his head and neck into a hole, leaving his hinder parts exposed; concluding no doubt that, as he sees no one, no one sees him!' Dundas has thrust his head through a hole in the wall labelled _Parliamentary Recess_, he cries, 'Ah! ah! nae one sees me now!' John Bull with his blunderbuss, and his brother Pat by his side, are watching the Scotchman's manoeuvre. 'Be asy, brother Pat, I see him as plain as ever. I have plenty of ammunition left, but I shan't fire just at present.' This print is founded on the inquiries into Lord Melville's conduct when Treasurer of the Navy. _July 14, 1805._ _Recovery of a Dormant Title, or a Breeches-Maker become a Lord._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Republished July 14, 1812.--The features of a sudden rise in life form humorous materials in the hands of the caricaturist. The lately created nobleman, a coarse and common clothier, is swaggering in all his new finery, to give his past associates a taste of his new-found honours. His showy court dress is assumed with awkward pretension; he wears a ribbon and star and a dress sword; none of these decorations harmonise with the wearer, who is so evidently out of place in his fine feathers, that the journeymen tailors and cobblers, his neighbours and recent comrades, are jeering at his burlesque dignity; his lady dressed in unbecoming finery, and carrying a large plume of feathers on her head, looks no less 'out of character' than does her tailoring spouse. The shop, over which appears, _Stitchall, Whitechapel, Breeches cleaned and repaired_, once the pride of the pair, is now closed. A placard states: 'The goodwill of this shop to be sold, removed to Grosvenor Square;' while an old Jewess, part of the establishment, probably the ancestress of one of the pair, is trying her hardest, on the top of some steps, to wipe out the offensive name of the ex-proprietor. _July 14, 1805._ _Antiquarians à la Grecque._ Published by R. Ackermann. _October 1, 1805._ _The Departure from the Coast, or the end of the Farce of Invasion._ Published by Ackermann.--On the heights of the English coast stands the British Lion, contemptuously pouring a broadside into the retreating invader; the British cruisers are sweeping the seas. The Emperor, seated on a donkey, is limping off, to the delight of some French monkeys. The national prototype's contributions, in the shape of a shower of shot, have capsized the iron crown of Milan. 'Bless me, what a shower! I shall be wet through before I reach the Rhine.' The Emperor and his steed are overloaded with sacks of _Excuses for non-performance_. _The Boulogne Encampment_ and _The Army of England_ fill his pockets, while files of soldiers are indicated above. _October 2, 1805._ _John Bull at the Opera._ Published by T. Rowlandson.--It is a matter of no surprise to find Rowlandson, who, in spite of his acquaintance with the Continent, was as thoroughly confirmed a John Bull as his illustrious predecessor Hogarth, ridiculing the tastes of the fashionable public, who patronised and petted exotic artists, to the neglect of native talent. Like the rest of the caricaturists, he traded on the national spirit, and held up foreigners to contempt and ridicule; with a happy faculty for seizing their grotesque points, their loose ways of life, and their love of finery and display, which has not, we will venture to believe, been excelled in any day. It is natural the school-fellow, fellow-student at the Academy, and familiar intimate through life, of such a talented English performer as Bannister, should have resented the artificial taste which heaped wealth on comparatively obscure aliens, with whose art plain John Bull could have slight sympathy, while the most rarely gifted of his countrymen were left to struggle through life without a due acknowledgment, in a pecuniary sense, proportioned to the extent of their merits, as contrasted with the abilities of their foreign rivals, and the fabulous salaries they received. The designer has accordingly displayed the signor from a whimsical point of view; the face of the performer is suggestive of that of the good-looking youth, the leading figure in the eccentric humours of an _Italian Family_ (1792); it was probably a portrait recognisable at the period. Certainly John Bull, in the artist's view, does not appear much at home at the Italian Opera; the spectators are divided between gigglers and gapers, and on the whole it is doubtful if their imported entertainer affords his audience the unequivocal enjoyment they would have been able to secure at the hands of 'honest Jack Bannister,' and native performers of his stamp. [Illustration: JOHN BULL AT THE ITALIAN OPERA.] _October 30, 1805._ _Raising the Wind._ _November 13, 1805._ _Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever, on Receiving the extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets._ Published by Ackermann.--The Emperor, in his huge cocked hat, is seriously indisposed, after reading the extraordinary gazette: '19 sail of the line taken by Lord Nelson.' Beside the Corsican is a group of court physicians in consternation: 'My dear Doctors! those sacré Anglois have played the devil with my constitution; pray tell me what is the matter with me. I felt the first symptoms when I told General Mack I wanted ships, colonies, and commerce. Oh dear! oh dear! I shall want more ships now; this is a cursed sensation. Oh, I am very qualmish!' 'Be-gar,' cries the first physician, 'I have found it out. Your heart be in your breeches!' Another doctor is observing that 'the case is desperate;' another recommends 'letting blood;' while others have, after a consultation, arrived at the conclusion--'Irrevocable.' [Illustration: A BOARDING SCHOOL.] 1805. _A Boarding School._--The droll scene our artist has imagined,--for it is to be hoped, in the interests of educational establishments and social decorum, that he was not in the situation to draw the incidents from actual observation,--is transpiring on the outside of a Young Ladies' Seminary, where maidens are 'boarded and educated,' and their minds trained. According to the notice-board, there seems no reason to question this being a 'finishing school' in the fullest acceptation of the expression. 'The young ideas' are shooting in a precocious fashion which is setting the restraint of the governesses at defiance. Certain well-favoured young house painters are inciting the mischievous hoydens to disregard the injunctions of their preceptresses. A daring scamp is stealing a kiss from a buxom belle, over the eaves of the adjoining house, and three terrible young flirts are exchanging pleasantries with a youth on a ladder, who is stopping the torrent of menace, poured forth by the mistress, by bedaubing his whitewash brush in the learned features of the infuriated old lady. It is evidently early morning, before the customary studies have commenced. 1805. _Glowworms._ (See July, 1812.) 1805. _Muckworms._ 1805. Illustrations to _Tom Jones, or the History of a Foundling_. Book 7, chap. 14.--'The clock had now struck twelve, and every one in the house were in their beds, except the sentinel who stood to guard Northerton, when Jones softly opening his door, issued forth in pursuit of his enemy, of whose place of confinement he had received a perfect description from the drawer. It is not easy to conceive a much more tremendous figure than he now exhibited. He had on, as we have said, a light coloured coat, covered with streams of blood. His face, which missed that very blood, as well as twenty ounces more drawn from him by the surgeon, was pallid. Round his head was a quantity of bandages, not unlike a turban. In the right hand he carried a sword, and in the left a candle. So that the bloody Banquo was not worthy to be compared to him. In fact, I believe a more dreadful apparition was never raised in a churchyard, nor in the imagination of any good people met in a winter evening over a Christmas fire in Somersetshire. 'When the sentinel first saw our hero approach, his hair began gently to lift up his grenadier cap, and in the same instant his knees fell to blows with each other. Presently his whole body was seized with worse than an ague fit. He then fired his piece, and fell flat on his face. 'Whether fear or courage was the occasion of his firing, or whether he took aim at the object of his terror, I cannot say. If he did, however, he had the good fortune to miss his man. 'Jones seeing the fellow fall, guessed the cause of his fright, at which he could not forbear smiling, not in the least reflecting on the danger from which he had just escaped. He then passed by the fellow, who still continued in the posture in which he fell.... The report of the firelock alarmed the whole house.... 'Before Jones could reach the door of his chamber, the hall where the sentinel had been posted was half full of people, some in their shirts, and others not half dressed, all very earnestly inquiring of each other what was the matter. 'The soldier was now found lying in the same place and posture in which we just now left him. Several immediately applied themselves to raise him, and some concluded him dead; but they presently saw their mistake, for he not only struggled with those who laid their hands on him, but fell a roaring like a bull. In reality he imagined so many spirits or devils were handling him; for his imagination, being possessed with the horror of an apparition, converted every object he saw or felt into nothing but ghosts and spectres. 'At length he was overpowered by numbers, and got upon his legs; when candles being brought, and seeing two or three of his comrades present, he came a little to himself; but when they asked him what was the matter, he answered, "I am a dead man, that's all; I am a dead man; I can't recover it; I have seen him."' '"What hast thou seen, Jack?" says one of the soldiers. "Why, I have seen the young volunteer that was killed yesterday."' [Illustration: THE SENTINEL MISTAKES TOM JONES FOR AN APPARITION.] Illustrations to Fielding's _Tom Jones_ (See 1791). 1791-93. Published by J. Siebbald, Edinburgh. 1805. Republished by Longman & Co., London. Illustrations to Smollett's _Peregrine Pickle_. 1791-93. Published by J. Siebbald, Edinburgh. 1805. Republished by Longman & Co., London. Etched by Rowlandson. _Clearing a Wreck on the North Coast of Cornwall._ Sketched in 1805. Rowlandson del. _View on Sir John Moreshead's Estate at Blisland near Bodmin, Cornwall._ Rowlandson del. _View near Bridport, Dorsetshire._ 1805. _Rouler Moor, Cornwall._ _Coast of Cornwall_, &c. (A series of views in Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, &c.) 1806. [Illustration: THE GERMAN WALTZ.] '_The Sorrows of Werther._' _Letter X._ _The Waltz with Charlotte._--'We began; and at first amused ourselves with making every possible turn with our arms. How graceful and animated all her motions! When the waltz commenced, all the couples which were turning round at first jostled against each other. We very judiciously kept aloof till the awkward and clumsy had withdrawn; when we joined in there were but two couples left. I never in my life was so active; I was more than mortal. To fly with her like the wind, and lose sight of every other object! But I own to you I then determined, that the woman I loved, and to whom I had pretensions, should never do the waltz with any other man. You will understand this.' _April 3, 1806._ _An Evergreen._--An extravagantly elongated figure, treated so as to suggest a trimmed shrub, and coloured green. There is much in the execution of this folio strip to suggest the hand of Rowlandson. Published by Fores. _April 20, 1806._ _A Cake in Danger._ Careful observers, studious of the Town, Shun the misfortunes that disgrace the clown.--GAY'S _Trivia_. It is night, or rather early morning, and the watchman, staff in hand, leaning forward in his box, in a state of semi-consciousness, more asleep than awake, does not observe that under the shelter of his house a deed of spoliation is proceeding. A simple countryman has fallen into the clutches of two fair members of the 'Hundreds of Drury,' and, while they are tenderly embracing the yokel, the contents of his pockets are being transferred to their own keeping. 1806 (?). _A Select Vestry._ 1806 (?). _A Country Club._ _April 16, 1806._ _The Political Hydra._ (Wigstead.) Originally published December 26, 1788. See description (1788). Reissued with fresh date. _April 18, 1806._ _Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Fox is travestied under the portly figure of Falstaff; Sheridan, Petty, and other Ministers do duty as his followers. The unwieldy knight is standing in the presence of John Bull, and pointing to a huge pack, 'Ten per cent, on John Bull's property,' which is to be fitted to the national back. 'Mercy on us, how you must be all changed in your way of thinking! When Billy proposed the same thing, one of you said it was a most flagrant instance of injustice and inequality; another that it was abominable in principle and in its operation, not only cruel but intolerable; and another went so far as to say that if I sanctioned it I was not a person for any honest man to be acquainted with. What have you to say for yourselves?' Falstaff has a plausible explanation at the service of his employer: 'You cannot blame us, Master Bull, we did not make it, or steal it; it lay in our way, and we found it!' _May 1, 1806._ _A Maiden Aunt smelling Fire._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Old Maids are doomed to lead Apes in Hell. An old Tabitha, who is appropriately surrounded by her feline friends, has been disturbed from her slumbers by various suspicious nocturnal sounds, and has appeared, candle in hand, and in a very incomplete toilette, to fathom the mystery, of the source of which she has evidently some shrewd suspicion; since she is hastening to the first floor to her niece's apartment. Above the balustrade stands the guilty damsel, who has had sufficient warning, as her lover, carrying his garments in his hand, for expedition, is making his way from the niece's room under the cover of an ambuscade; while the lady is leaning over the staircase railings, with an air of startled innocence assumed to carry off the _contretemps_. _May, 1806_. _Recruiting on a Broad-Bottom'd Principle._ Published by T. Blacklock, 92 Royal Exchange.--Grenville, Fox, and their colleagues, are out on a recruiting expedition, to enlist volunteers for their new service. Lord Grenville, as the recruiting sergeant, is haranguing the bystanders; his followers are rather of the tatterdemalion order: they wear the red caps of Liberty, and the revolutionary cockades, they are out-at-elbows and shoeless. Sheridan is waving the colours inscribed 'God save the King! No Jacobins!' Fox is drummer, Lord Derby is fifer; 'Now my brave fellows, now is the time to make your fortunes and show your loyalty, all on a Broad-Bottom'd principle: we don't value _candle-ends_ and _cheese-parings_, not we! All lives, and fortune-soldiers to a man. We'll make our enemies tremble; we are the boys to _wind_ 'em; now is your time, my lads; the bed of Honour is a bed of Down.' A dog, the _Member for Barkshire_ according to his collar, is bow-wowing the sergeant's address; one of the audience, with a paper, _Bed of Roses_ (to which the ministerial condition had been likened by Lord Castlereagh), in his pocket, is half decided to join their standard: 'I don't like a bed of Down, I would rather it was a _Bed of Roses_: however I have a great mind to enter notwithstanding, there is nothing like having two strings to one's bow.' George the Third is peeping through his spyglass; he is not very clear as to the actual motives of the party: 'What, what! my sergeant and drummer beating up for volunteers; that's right, that's right, get as many as you can!' _May 4, 1806._ _Daniel Lambert, the wonderful great Pumpkin of Little Britain._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The famous Leicester giant, or rather fat man, Daniel Lambert, was the object of fashionable curiosity at this date. The worthy and good-natured-looking monster's figure is set forth at full, and justice is done to his corpulence. A tailor and his journeyman are between them vainly trying to stretch their measuring tape round the colossal girth; a fairly conditioned man-cook has just brought in a noble rib of beef for the regalement of the giant. Three modishly dressed persons of quality, who have come to admire the huge proportions of Daniel Lambert, are contrasting their own meagre condition of genteel slimness with his excessive plumpness. A notice sets forth, 'Agricultural society for the improvement of fat cattle. Leicestershire Ram'; and a placard advertises, 'The powers of Roast Beef, or the Leicestershire Apollo, now in full bloom; no blemish whatever on any part of his body. Thirty-six years of age. Weighs upwards of 50 stone, 14 lbs. to the stone, or 700 lbs. Measures 3 yds. 4 inches round the body, and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg; is five feet eleven inches in height. Admission only one shilling. Laugh and grow fat.'[5] _May 31, 1806._ _A Diving Machine on a New Construction._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The unpopular increase of Taxation, levied under the Broad-bottom'd auspices, was severely dealt with by the satirists. In the present version, the Ministers are represented as the crew of a diving-barge, _The Experiment_. Fox is the diver, and a noble wreck, the 'Constitution cutter, John Bull commander,' has gone down to the bottom of the 'Ocean of Taxation.' Her commander is done for; amidst the spoils of the shipwreck, the Diver (Fox) is securing certain weighty additions to his treasury: pig-iron, Beer Tax, and heavy chests, '10 per cent.' are among the spoils. A rope is secured to the ponderous Property Tax; Fox is giving the word to 'Haul up;' Petty, Sheridan and others are hauling away at the ropes; their lighter is nearly filled with the precious wreckage they have been able to secure. _June 20, 1806._ _The Acquittal, or upsetting the Porter Pot._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--Lord Melville and his counsel are exulting over the results of his acquittal by his peers of the charge of investing the public funds for his personal advantage, as far as the interest was concerned, a perquisite previously allowed to the Treasurer of the Navy. When Lord Melville, then Henry Dundas, filled the post of Treasurer to the Navy, he brought in an act for the better regulation of that office, making such employment of the funds in hand a misdemeanour; Whitbread, (at the head of the advanced Liberals, or 'Radical Reformers,' who began to make his party dreaded as formidable opponents of the old-fashioned Whig section, from which his supporters had receded), and Wilberforce, as the enemy of all corruptions, were the principal movers of Melville's impeachment, for the alleged breach of his own act. The two Scots, Melville and Trotter, who are dressed in Highland garb, are embracing fraternally; at the same time, Melville is giving a sly backward kick to a huge pewter pot, bearing the face of the disconcerted mover of the charges. _Whitbread's Entire Butt_ is knocked over, its contents _Impeachments_, _High Crimes_, _Misdemeanours_, and _Peculation_, are flowing away unheeded; 'What is life without a friend?' cries the ex-Minister on his acquittal; his counsel, Trotter, is assuring his relieved patron, 'I'll _trot_ for you! I'll gallop for you all over the globe. O happy day for Scotland! and see how pleased John Bull looks--ah Johnny, Johnny, this is indeed a glorious triumph.' But Mr. Bull declines to be soft-sawdered: his face is wearing anything but a satisfied expression; he significantly keeps his hands in his pockets, and is grumbling, 'I say nothing,' as if he could say a great deal if he were disposed to express his honest opinion of the entire transaction. _July 21, 1806._ _Experiments at Dover, or Master Charleys Magic Lantern._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The repeated delays to the preliminaries for peace, and the various manoeuvres of Buonaparte's government, which protracted the issue of Fox's policy, led to a feeling out-of-doors that the Minister was not dealing straightforwardly with the public; that dissimulation was thrown into their eyes like dust; and that the Whig chief was deluding his followers for some reasons of his own; meanwhile the Corsican Emperor was carrying forward plans for fresh aggressions unchecked. Fox, in the print, has settled himself comfortably at Dover; with a magic lantern to work his delusions, he is throwing painted images across the Channel, which are reflected on the cliffs of Calais. The figure of Napoleon is seen sounding a news-horn, announcing 'Preliminaries of Peace'; Fox's slide contains other views, which have to follow, for the further perplexity of the honest spectator: 'More despatches,' 'Messenger to Paris,' 'Messenger from Boulogne,' &c. The Showman is trying to reassure his friend, 'There, Master Bull, what do you think of that? I told you I would surprise you--"Preliminaries of Peace," 'Huzza!' John Bull, who is standing unconvinced behind Fox's chair, replies: 'Yes, yes, it be all very foine, if it be true. But I can't forget that d----d Omnium last week; they be always one way or other in contradictions! I will tell thee what, Charley, since thee hast become a great man, I think in my heart thee beest always conjuring.' _June, 1806._ _Butterfly Hunting._ Published by Wm. Holland, 11 Cockspur Street.--A collision between the pursuits of rival enthusiasts is pictured under the title of 'Butterfly Hunting.' Nothing can stop the fervour of the butterfly collectors in their chase of the sportive prey, wantonly flitting all over the flower-beds, and leading the excited entomologists a pretty dance, carrying destruction to the parterres, and ruination to the tulips, of which the proprietor of the house and grounds is, it appears, a passionate fancier. The havoc, which is spreading over the beds of his favourites, is reducing him to frenzy; as he is awakened from his rest, and surveys from his bedroom-window the field of action, the only wonder is, if he has a loaded gun ready at hand, that he is not tempted to salute the reckless spoilers with a volley. [Illustration: BUTTERFLY-HUNTING.] 1806. _A Prize Fight._ 1806 (?). _Anything will do for an Officer._--The caricature of a pigmy and misshapen sample of humanity, dressed as an officer, with an enormous cocked hat, worn on one side of his battered and lined old face; a long pigtail projects over his high shoulders; he swaggers with one hand on his hip, and the other on the head of a tasseled cane, which is nearly as tall as the hero himself; his shrunken spindle legs are thrust into huge boots, and his tremendous sword, which is longer than the wearer, is trailing on the ground. The argument is not complimentary to commanders in general: 'Some school-boys, who were playing at soldiers, found one of their number so ill-made and so undersized that he would have disfigured the whole body if put into the ranks. "What shall we do with him?" asked one, "Do with him?" says another, "why make an officer of him!"' [Illustration: A PRIZE FIGHT.] 1806. _View of the Interior of Simon Ward, alias St. Brewer's Church, Cornwall._--A quaint delineation of a church-interior during service; the pastor, who is somewhat of the Dr. Syntax type, is holding forth. There is a squire's pew, a rosy, sleepy clerk, a large leavening of fat slumberers (among the rest the sexton and pew-opener), a crowded gallery, worshippers both devout and careless, gazers through curiosity, and the usual elements which made up a grotesque-looking country congregation at the end of the last century. 1806. _A Monkey Merchant._ FOOTNOTE: [5] The advice offered in the concluding line of Daniel Lambert's advertisement must, however, be followed with certain reserve. The Leicester giant's premature end is hardly an encouragement to would-be imitators. After his first visit to London, in 1806, Daniel Lambert returned to his native place; the year following he repeated his visit, but feeling oppressed by the atmosphere of the metropolis, he made a tour through the principal provincial cities and towns, where he proved a great source of attraction. We are told 'his diet was plain, and the quantity moderate, and for many years he never drank anything stronger than water. His countenance was manly and intelligent; he possessed great information, much ready politeness, and conversed with ease and facility. He had a powerful and melodious tenor voice, and his articulation was perfectly clear and unembarrassed.... Lambert had, however, for some time shown dropsical symptoms. In June, 1809, he was weighed at Huntingdon, and, by the Caledonian balance, was found to be 52 stone 11 lb.; 10 stone 4 lb. heavier than Bright, the miller of Maiden, who only lived to the age of thirty.' A few days after this last weight was taken, on June 20, Lambert arrived from Huntingdon at the Wagon and Horses Inn, St. Martin's, Stamford, where preparations were made to receive company the next day and during the Stamford races. He was announced for exhibition; he gave his orders cheerfully, without any presentiment that they were to be his last. He was then in bed, only fatigued from his journey, but anxious to see company early in the morning. Before nine o'clock, however, the day following, he was a corpse! He died in his apartment on the ground-floor of the inn, for he had long been incapable of walking up stairs. As may be supposed from his immense bulk and weight, his interment was an arduous labour. His age was thirty-nine. At the Wagon and Horses Inn were preserved two suits of Lambert's clothes; seven ordinary-sized men were repeatedly enclosed within his waistcoat, without breaking a stitch or straining a button. 1807. _February 1, 1807._ _Miseries of London. Going out to dinner (already too late) your carriage delayed by a jam of coaches, which choke up the whole street, and allow you an hour or more than you require to sharpen your wits for table talk._ Published by Ackermann, 101 Strand. Breast against breast, with ruinous assault And deafening shock they come. _February 3, 1807._ _The Captain's Account-current of Charge and Discharge._ Published by Giles Grinagain, 7 Artillery Street, London.--A pair of plates connected with some militia or yeomanry satire of the period: the scene of the captain's misadventure is evidently a cathedral town, but the interest of the print is not sufficiently strong to make any elucidation of the facts of the case of much importance. The captain is mounted on a spirited charger; he is losing his seat; several whips and his sabre have fallen, and the rider is holding on precariously by his horse's mane. Professor Gambado's famous tract, _Hints to Bad Horsemen_, is thrown on the ground. The members of the troop, galloping in the rear, are enjoying their leader's mishap, and saying, 'Our young whip is not an old jockey.' The captain cries, 'March! trot! canter! charge! halt, halt, halt! I mean;' while candid confessions burst forth spontaneously from the trumpet at his side. 'Avarice, vanity! oh what a ninny I was to throw myself off! they're laughing at me!' while hypocrisy, ingratitude, double-dealing, false friendship, malice, &c., are trumpeted forth. In the second plate the rider has come to grief; the horse is prancing gaily, relieved of his rider; the animal is addressing a parting remark to the discharged captain: 'You seem more frightened than hurt. You have been taught the value of whips more than the use of them.' A hussar has recovered the trumpet; he stoops over to the fallen captain, who is rubbing the seat of his injuries: 'I hope your honour is not hurt,' to which the fallen leader replies, 'I am not hurt, upon my honour!' The troopers are riding gaily on, exclaiming, 'Why, our captain needn't a fallen!' [Illustration: MISERIES OF LONDON.] _February 15, 1807._ _Miseries of Travelling; an Overloaded Coach._ Published by R. Ackermann. _February 18, 1807._ _At Home and Abroad._--A domestic interior; the servant is leaving the room with a warming-pan, and a lady, of the developed 'fat, fair, and forty' order, is preparing to go to bed; the partner of her joys, who is more youthful, has dropped his pipe and is sipping a bumper of wine; but, although evidently sleepy, he seems disinclined to follow the lady's example of retiring to rest. _February 18, 1807._ _Abroad and at Home_ is a complete contrast to the previous subject.--A handsome-looking man is reclining on a couch before the fire; on the table by his side are fruit and wine, on his knee there dallies an elegant creature; the lady's maid is figured in the background, regaling herself with drops on the sly. _February 26, 1807._ _Mrs. Showwell, the Woman who shows General Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford._ Etched and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--This, like the companion print, bears the initials J. N. Esq. (John Nixon), 1807, but the style of execution is in Rowlandson's marked manner. Mrs. Showwell is a dwarfed, quaint old woman, of good-natured appearance, wearing a cap and hood; she is pointing out the excellences of a collection of old masters with a wand, and in her other hand is held the key of the gallery.[6] _March 1, 1807._ _The Enraged Vicar._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.-- To see them rattle, howl, and tear, By Jove, 'twould make a parson swear, A subject of wanton destruction, which forms a fitting companion to the invasion of the tulip-fancier's flower-beds by irrepressible butterfly-collectors, was published the year following, as _The Enraged Vicar_. In this case the horticultural tastes of the reverend gentleman have led him to turn the grounds of the vicarage into a picture of the most unvarying precision: clipped hedges, chopped borders of box, with yew-trees and evergreens, carved into wonderful imitations of impossible objects, form the passion of his heart. A hunted fox is darting through these wonderful works of art; the hounds are breaking over everything, and the whole field of fox-hunters are riding through the Vicar's boundaries, and pounding their horses over his cherished monstrosities. Judging from the frantic state of the dignitary, the reverse of benedictions seem likely to be invoked upon the heads of the intruders, who are wrecking the results of any amount of misdirected patience 'in less than no time.' [Illustration: THE ENRAGED VICAR.] _April 18, 1807._ _All the Talents._ Published by Stockdale, Pall Mall. [Illustration: ALL THE TALENTS.] Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum. The complex nature of the famous Broad-Bottom Administration, known as 'All the Talents,' is set forth in an allegorical representation, which is supposed to include the several qualifications of the vaunted _illuminés_. It may be remembered that this Ministry, which came into power under Liberal and popular auspices, retired on the rejection of their favourite measure, Catholic Emancipation, which they were pledged to introduce. The King, and his friends, the remnant of the Pittites, made a desperate stand against this measure, and the consequence of its defeat was the immediate withdrawal of 'All the Talents' from office. As embodied by Rowlandson's pencil, the combination of heterogeneous elements produced a curious monster: the wig of a learned judge is worn on the head of a spectacled ape, with an episcopal mitre and a Catholic crosier; a lawyer's bands, a laced coat, and ragged breeches; wearing one shoe, and a French jackboot; and dancing upon a funeral pyre of papers, the results of the Administration, its endless negotiations with France, and its sinecures and patronages, which are blazing away. The creature's right foot is discharging a musket, to represent the 'Army,' which is producing certain mischief in the rear, and bringing two heavy folios, _Magna Charta_ and the _Coronation Oath_ upon the head of the dangerous animal. The left hand, holding a pen upside-down, is supposed to be compounding new financial projects, in a ledger laid over a music book, 'Country dances,' an allusion to the alleged dancing proclivities of Lord Henry Petty, the Broad-Bottomite Chancellor of the Exchequer. The smoke, from the pipe of this _lusus Naturæ_, is obscuring the portrait of William Pitt. The end of 'All the Talents,' who sacrificed their influence from conscientious motives, and whose upright principles were beyond suspicion, was a great source of triumph to their opponents, who signalised their retirement with a volley of satirical effusions. The 'Interment of the Broad-Bottomite Ministry' produced a shower of political squibs and caricatures; and among the best verses on the occasion, appeared the following mocking epitaph, which has been attributed to the gifted pen of Canning, who came into office on the dismissal of 'All the Talents.' When the Broad-Bottomed junto, all nonsense and strife, Resigned, with a groan, its political life; When converted to Rome, and of honesty tired, It to Satan gave back what himself had inspired; The Demon of Faction, that over them hung, In accents of anguish their epitaph sung; While Pride and Venality joined in the stave, And canting Democracy wept on the grave. Here lies, in the tomb that we hollowed for Pitt, The conscience of Grenville, of Temple the wit; Of Sidmouth the firmness, the temper of Grey, And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay. Here Petty's finance, from the evils to come, With Fitzpatrick's sobriety creeps to the tomb; And Chancellor Ego, now left in the lurch, Neither laughs at the law nor cuts jokes at the Church. Then huzza for the party that here's laid to rest-- 'All the Talents,' but self-praising blockheads at best: Though they sleep in oblivion, they've died with the hope, At the last day of freedom, to rise with the Pope. [Illustration: A NINCOMPOOP, OR HEN-PECKED HUSBAND.] _April 24, 1807._ _A Nincompoop, or Hen-peck'd Husband._ Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside (147).--It is supposed to be the day of rest and ease, and comfortable cits are taking their summer outings to suburban resorts. A buxom city wife is sailing along with an air like a tragedy queen, fanning herself as she walks. Her better half, a miserable being reduced to abject servitude, is bearing a bundle, a shawl, a pair of pattens, and an umbrella, objects to serve in the train of his mistress's grandeur; the poor 'nincompoop' is vainly turning his eyes up Heavenwards: no miracle is vouchsafed to free him from his bondage. Other stout promenaders are bursting with indignation at the weakness of this lord of creation, while they walk in the other extreme, and leave their better halves to drag along both children and baggage in their wake. Certain tired pedestrians are enjoying the reward of their exertions, while partaking of cool pipes and tankards, at the '_Old Swan Inn, Ordinary on Sundays_,' whither the parties have evidently proceeded to dine. _April 26, 1807._ _John Rosedale, Mariner._ _Exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital._ Etched and published by T. Rowlandson.--Like the companion print, _Mrs. Showwell_ (Feb. 26), the sketch is signed with the initials J. N. Esq. The old sailor Cicerone, who has a pigtail, and wears a long square-cut coat of naval blue, with gold buttons and lace, is pointing out with a cane the mysteries of certain allegorical compositions to the gaping spectators:-- 'Here is George, Prince of Denmark, and in the perspective a view of St. Paul's, London, Sir James Thornhill in the wig, &c. &c.' _May 1, 1807._ _The Pilgrims and the Peas._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. One of a series of headings to songs, ballads, &c., published by T. Tegg.--In the illustration to Peter Pindar's Apologue of _The Pilgrims and the Peas_, the disconsolate sinner, with hard peas in his shoes, is crawling along, doubled up with agony, to the shrine at Loretto, meeting halfway the joyful pilgrim, who has accomplished his penance, 'whitewashed his soul,' and returned from his journey without personal inconvenience, by the exercise of the simplest precaution, as he confesses:-- To walk a little more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas! _May 3, 1807._ _Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life._ Published by A. Berigo, 38 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. _Plate 1._ Beauty, Music, a few thousands, and opportunity given by card tables, often feather the adventurer and prove an easy introduction to the Miseries of Human Life. _Plate 2._ Jealousy, rage, disappointment, intrigue, and laughter are here pretty much exemplified, and afford an old Lover a high-seasoned taste of the Miseries of Human Life. _May 6, 1807._ _Monastic Fare._ And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell, Who leads a good life is sure to live well, What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar? [Illustration: MONASTIC FARE.] _May 6, 1807._ _Black, Brown, and Fair._ Designed by Sir E. Bunbury. Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--An illustration to the lines:-- With Black, Brown, and Fair, I have frolic'd 'tis true, But I never lov'd any, dear Mary, but you. At the window of a tavern, at Wapping 'Dock Head,' is a bevy of beauties, representing the variations of complexion described by the song-writer. The redundant charms of this collection of beauties are arresting an equally diversified circle of admirers, numbering mulattos, a Chinaman, a Holland skipper, a foreign Jew, and a Virginia nigger. _May 6, 1807._ _The Holy Friar._ Designed by Sir E. Bunbury. Rowlandson, sculp. I am a Friar of orders Grey, And down the valleys I take my way. I pull not Blackberry, Haw, or Hip; Good store of ven'son does fill my scrip. My long Bead-roll I merrily chaunt, Wherever I walk no money I want; And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell, Who leads a good life is sure to live well; What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar? After supper of Heav'n I dream, But that is fat pullets and clouted cream; Myself by denial I mortify, With a dainty bit of a Warden pie. I'm cloth'd in sackcloth for my sin, With old Sack wine I'm lin'd within, A chirping cup is my Matin song, And the vesper's bell is my bowl--ding dong! What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar? [Illustration: THE HOLY FRIAR.] _May 16, 1807._ _I Smell a Rat, or a Rogue in Grain._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. An exuberant rustic charmer has been entertaining a fashionable visitor in a granary; a party of rustics, mounting the ladder, have disturbed the interview. A powdered, pig-tailed, and lace-ruffled dandy has sought concealment amidst the sacks of grain; his head appears over the barrier in sheer dismay, for a determined farm help, probably the legitimate swain of the indignant damsel, armed with a formidable pitchfork, is making reckless efforts to impale the trespasser; his fury is slightly restrained by the stalwart exertions of the lady, who has buried her fingers in the village Othello's shock head of hair; at his feet is a scroll with the quotation 'I smell a rat, dead for a ducat.' A bill, pinned on the wall, sets forth 'Rats, pole cats, and all sorts of vermin effectively destroyed.' _May 17, 1807._ _The Old Man of the Sea, sticking to the Shoulders of Sindbad the Sailor._ Vide _The Arabian Nights Entertainments_. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The dandified Sir Francis Burdett is figured as a discontented Sindbad the Sailor; his preceptor John Horne Tooke, in his clerical garments, is perched on his pupil's shoulders, and he is driving him through _The Mire of Politics_, in which he is wading knee-deep. In the distance is shown the baronet's mansion, _Independence and a comfortable home_. From an upper window a lady is waving back the traveller, who does not relish turning his back on this prospect to encounter the _Ministerial Shoals_ and _Treasury Rocks_ which are opposed to his progress on the other side. Horne Tooke is urging on the career of his _protégé_: 'Persevere! persevere! you are the only man to get through.' Burdett's confidence is wavering: 'This old man will be the end of me at last; what a miry place he has brought me into!' _May 25, 1807._ _A White Sergeant giving the Word of Command: 'Why don't you come to bed, you drunken sot?'_ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A man, past the meridian of life, is calmly enjoying his pipe before his fire, with an agreeable book in his hand, '_Rule a wife and have a wife_.' The young wife is indignantly rating the easy-going husband on his inclination to prefer the fireside to his conjugal couch. _May 29, 1807._ _Comedy in the Country, Tragedy in London._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--_Comedy in the Country_ is played in a barnlike building to an audience of rustics, whose faces express the most intense appreciation. _Tragedy in London_, as performed in a fashionable theatre, has plunged a very select audience into the depths of grief and misery: tears bedew every cheek, and even the members of the orchestra are weeping profusely. _May 30, 1807._ _Platonic Love._ '_None but the Brave deserve the Fair._' Sir E. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.--An illustration to the lines in Othello wherein Desdemona's wooing is described. A veteran commander, who has lost an arm and both legs, is acting on the advice of his fair, who is tenderly embracing his wooden leg. Although the name of Rowlandson is appended to this plate, the method of its execution bears a closer resemblance to the handling of C. W. (Williams). _June 12, 1807._ _Miseries Personal._ Published by Ackermann, 101 Strand. 'After dinner, when the ladies retire with you from a party of very pleasant men, having to entertain as you can half a score of empty or formal females; then after a decent time has elapsed, and your patience and topics are equally exhausted, ringing for the tea, &c., which you sit making in despair for above two hours, having three or four times sent word to the gentlemen that it is ready, and overheard your husband, at the last message, answer, "Very well, another bottle of wine." By the time the tea and coffee are quite cold, they arrive, continuing as they enter, and for an hour afterwards, their political disputes, occasionally suspended by the master of the house by a reasonable complaint to his lady at the coldness of the coffee; soon after the carriages are announced and the company disperse.' [Illustration: MISERIES PERSONAL.] _June 15, 1807._ _Murphy Delaney._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--This caricature is an illustration to the song which is printed below it. It happened to the hero, Murphy Delaney, to find himself, when 'fresh as a shamrock and blind as a bull' from the effects of imbibing a 'skinful of whiskey,' by the side of the quay, which he mistook for the floor of his shed, 'And the keel of a coal-barge he just tumbled over, and thought all the while he was going to bed.' When his body was recovered from the river an inquest was duly held to determine the cause of his end, during which the subject of the deliberation revived, and appeared as a witness; but his testimony being declined, on the ground of his recent decease, the jury appealed to the doctor, who swore that, as Delaney was 'something alive,' it 'must be his ghost. So they sent out of hand for the clergy to lay him, but Pat laid the clergy, and then ran away.' _June 18, 1807._ _A View on the Banks of the Thames._ (No. 177.) Published by T. Tegg. (See illustration, p. 77.) [Illustration: A VIEW ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES.] _July 1, 1807._ _More Scotchmen, or Johnny Maccree Opening his New Budget._--Lord Melville, on the strength of his re-instalment, has extended his patronage to a swarm of his countrymen; he is dressed in Highland garb, and is opening the mouth of his sack, from whence is issuing an interminable stream of Scotchmen, who are trooping steadily on the road to fortune, through the portals of St. Stephens. 'There ye are, my bonny lads, mak the best o' your way, the door is open, and leave a Scotsman alaine to stick in a place gin he once gains an entrance.' John Bull, who is standing aside, quite overpowered by the spectacle of this Caledonian incursion, is exclaiming: 'Dang it, what a swarm of them there be--enough to cause a famine in any Christian country!' _July 9, 1807._ _A Cure for Lying and a Bad Memory._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--A wag at one of the universities has applied to an empiric, on a visit to the neighbourhood, for a cure, as a proof of his skill, for a propensity to tell lies, and a memory which retained no recollection of what its possessor had stated last. In the picture the quack has just administered his _Pillula Memoria_ and _Anti Fibbibus_; the incautious would-be waggish student is very uncomfortable, and declares he has taken _Asafoetida_. 'You speak the truth,' says the doctor, 'you are perfectly cured; and as to your memory, that cure follows of course, for I am sure you will never forget the medicine!' _July 10, 1807._ _The Double Disaster, or New Cure for Love._ Rowlandson del. et sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--This sketch, which is characterised by the artist's usual spirit when dealing with kindred subjects, represents the situation of a rustic swain, whose philanderings have landed him in the midst of the perplexities of a double dilemma. It is seemingly 'washing day,' and the gallant intruder has effected his admission to court the graces of a pretty maiden, who is thrown into consternation at the risk to which her suitor, by an awkward _contretemps_, is suddenly exposed. The pair have evidently been disturbed at the moment the lady was engaged in drawing a mug of ale for the refreshment of her admirer; in the confusion, the tap of the beer barrel is still left running, and all the maid's solicitude is centred in the position of her swain, who has incautiously taken refuge in the copper. A very disagreeable-looking old beldame is kindling a blazing fire in the stove, while a buxom wench is working away at the pump, which is pouring gallons of water into the unlucky Lothario's place of concealment. The youth is hesitating midway between the ordeals of fire or water, and he is struggling to effect his escape from both, at the risk of exposure and its consequences. _July 14, 1807._ _Easter Hunt._ _Clearing a Fence._ (_Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt._) 1807. _Miseries of the Country._ 'While on a visit to the hundreds of Essex, being under the necessity of getting dead drunk every day to save your life.' Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.... The hundreds of Essex, it appears from the print, which represents a bacchanalian sporting revel, were doubtless attractive to fox-hunters; but the hospitalities exercised therein were rather excessive. The usual accompaniments of a drunken bout of the period are set forth with Rowlandson's graphic skill; an old toper is draining a punch-bowl and capsizing himself simultaneously; an ambitious young reveller is tipsily trying to mount the table, and over-balancing himself in the attempt; a stout divine is indisposed in a corner; heavy drinkers laid low are on the floor, whence they are dragged off by their heels, and carried to bed in an incapable and collapsed condition. Furniture is knocked over, and chimney ornaments sent to grief. It is an anniversary meeting of choice spirits. _October 5, 1807._ _A Mistake at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--A good pious old soul, wearing a hood, red cloak, clean apron, and pattens, and carrying Wesley's hymns in her hand, is interrogating certain sporting characters, who are lounging at the door of the _Ram Inn_. 'Pray, young man,' she enquires of a smart young jockey, 'are there any _meetings_ in this town?' To which the jockey replies, 'Yes, ma'am, two a year--Spring and October!' 1807(?) _Englishman at Paris._ H. Bunbury invt., Rowlandson sculp.--Our old friend John Bull is shown, with his travelling accompaniments, philosophically pursuing his quiet way in the land of the 'Monsieurs.' He is the centre of curiosity, though, according to the artist's picture, he is the least remarkable object in the group. A corpulent friar is observing the well-rounded person of the stranger with an appreciative eye; while a lean cook, in wooden shoes, is staring with astonishment at the goodly proportions of the Englishman. A French _petit-maître_ is driving a ramshackle contrivance, and his queerly clad servant is perched on the springs behind. A female luggage porter is plodding along, and an adventitious shower, directed from a balcony above, is descending on the umbrella of a dandified pedestrian, daintily mincing along on tiptoe, who, at first glance, might be taken for a live Marquis, if, on inspection, his apron and the professional implements peeping out of his coat-tail, did not proclaim him a barber. John Bull's substantially built dog is eyeing a sniffing French hound with threatening suspicion. [Illustration: ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS.] 1807(?) _Symptoms of Restiveness._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.--Henry Bunbury, it will be observed, was remarkably fond of drawing disasters in the saddle; his brother, the respected Sir Charles Bunbury, was, for many years, president of the Jockey Club, in which difficult position he rigorously upheld the integrity of the turf; and there is no doubt that the originator of 'Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.,' and of those invaluable precepts on equitation published and illustrated as alleged by the eminent _Riding Master of the Horse and Grand Equerry to the Doge of Venice_ (about the only potentate who could not find a turnpike-road within his capital), must have had 'a good eye for a horse.' The Symptoms of Restiveness are of a somewhat marked and unmistakable character: while one sportsman's steed is kneeling down on his forelegs, and turning the huntsman heels over head, another cavalier's animal is standing rigidly on his forelegs, and perseveringly attempting to dislodge his mount by kicking out wildly behind. A third rider is no less fortunate in his hack, which has 'no mouth,' and is moreover a 'bolter'; the animal is steadily plunging through everything in its way, apparently unconscious of the desperate efforts his master is making to hold him in. An old woman, with her barrow and its contents, are tumbled over, without attracting the attention of the wrong-headed brute, whose mind is absorbed in his own private speculations. [Illustration: SYMPTOMS OF RESTIVENESS.] 1807 (?) _A Calf's Pluck._ Designed by H. Bunbury. Etched by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: A CALF'S PLUCK.] 1807 (?) _Rusty Bacon._ Designed by H. Bunbury. Etched by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: RUSTY BACON.] 1807 (?) _A Tour to the Lakes._-- Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Through all its various paths hath been, Must oft have wondered to have found His warmest welcome at an Inn. A clerical traveller has arrived, late at night, at an hostel; a pretty chamber-maid is showing the reverend visitor to his room, bearing a lighted candle, a warming-pan, and the saddle-bags of the guest, who appears well pleased with his conductress, and is imparting his admiration. As it appears that this gentleman is inclined to be less respectable than his venerated calling should suggest, it is less scandalising to observe that various practical jokes of a rough character are besetting his path; consequently, it is highly probable that he will receive an active moral lesson before he reaches his chamber. _November 9, 1807._ _Thomas Simmons, drawn from Life by Mr. Angelo._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. 'The horrid and inhuman murderer of Mrs. Hammerstone and Mrs. Warner at the house of Mr. Boreham, a Quaker at Hoddesdon, in Herts, on Tuesday evening, October 20, 1807.'--The barbarous murderer does not rejoice in a very formidable exterior. His weakly person has been sketched by the hand of Henry Angelo, the well-known fencing-master, a firm friend of Rowlandson through life. His amusing _Memoirs_ have supplied us with many circumstances relating to the caricaturist. It appears that Angelo, Bannister, and Rowlandson were schoolfellows at an early period of life, and they were all as youths excessively fond of their pencils; although it was reserved for Rowlandson alone to attain proficiency in the fine arts. Angelo, like George Selwyn, Colonel Hanger, and some few notorieties, was fond of attending executions, visiting jails, and similar lugubrious exhibitions. Among his visits to prisons he encountered some curious characters. Thomas Simmons, the subject of the present plate, was one of the unfortunates with whom he became acquainted on one of these eccentric excursions. From the sketch, Thomas Simmons appears a mere dwarf of a man, a harmless-looking and apparently half-witted individual, realising the traditional idea of _Simple Simon_. This murderer has heavy manacles round his puny limbs. Groups of miserable prisoners, and hard-featured jailors are in the rear, and the heavy iron doors of Newgate afford an appropriate background. _November 10, 1807._ _Directions to Footmen._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside (273).--'Take off the largest dishes, and set them on with one hand, to show the ladies your vigour and strength of back, but always do it between two ladies, that if the dish happens to slip, the soup or sauce may fall on their clothes, and not daub the floor; by this practice, two of our brethren, my worthy friends, got considerable fortunes.'--A stalwart awkward-looking yokel, in a showy livery, is carrying out these useful directions to the letter. While grinning at his horrified mistress, he is upsetting a tureen held loosely in his right hand, over a handsome damsel, and is flooding the table-cloth, to the horror of the company, and the delight of a poodle, which is revelling in the stream. In the clumsy footman's left hand is held a dish, from which he is calmly allowing the joint, gravy, &c., to glide over the back of another dog who is less pleased than his companion. _November 10, 1807._ _John Bull making Observations on the Coast._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The head of George the Third, as the sun, is throwing its brilliant rays across the Channel, and shining on the British Fleet which lines the waters. The head of Napoleon Buonaparte, with his cocked hat and feather, is represented as a comet with a fiery train, which is making vicious exertions to dash itself across the orb of day. John Bull has planted his telescope on the shores of the Channel, and his eye is following the course of the erratic meteor: 'Ay, ay, Master Comet, you may attempt your peri-heliums, or your devil-heliums for what I care, but take the word of an old man, you'll never reach the sun, depend upon it.' _November 20, 1807._ _A Couple of Antiquities._ Published by R. Ackermann. _November 20, 1807._ _My Aunt and My Uncle._ Published by R. Ackermann. _November 21, 1807._ _The Dog and the Devil._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The interior of a conjurer's chamber, decorated with the usual paraphernalia of bats, stuffed crocodiles, &c. The empiric wears his learned robes and fur cap; in the centre of a magic circle stands the pretended enchanter's assistant, dressed in a bullock's hide, with the horns and tail left on, to personate the Father of Evil; a butcher, in his working dress, has called to consult the oracle concerning a missing sheep; he has brought his bull-dog with him, unobserved by the demonstrator, and the animal, true to his instincts, has pinned the mock demon-bull by the nose; 'the pretended devil roar'd most tremendously; but the dog kept a firm hold. The conjurer, rising in a passion, exclaimed, "You scoundrel, take off your dog!" The butcher, however, perceiving the cheat, cried out, "Not I, doctor, I know he is of as good a breed as ever bolted, so let 'em fight fair; if you are not afraid of your devil, I am not afraid of my dog; so dog against devil for what sum you please!"' The fictitious demon is in bad case. 1807 (?). _More Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey broke through._--A serio-comic scene that befel the 'grocer's wife at Norwich, owing to the bottom of Mr. Figg's whiskey breaking through.' The flooring of a vehicle something like a phaeton has proved too slight for a ponderous occupant: the lady's ample proportions are framed in the chaise, to the alarm of her husband, who is seizing the prancing horse. Certain gazers, hugely delighted, are hastening up not to lose the spectacle of the lady's awkward situation. 1807 (?). _The Man of Feeling._--The scene takes place in a sky-parlour, and the principal performer is a son of the Church. 1807 (?). _Miseries of Bathing._ 'After bathing in the river, on returning to the bank for your clothes, finding that a passing thief has taken a sudden fancy to the cut of every article of your dress.' 1807 (?). _The Pleasures of Human Life._ By Hilari Benevolus & Co. Published by Longmans, 1807. Crown 8vo. _Pleasures of Human Life_, in a dozen dissertations, interspersed with various anecdotes, _Pleasures of Fashion_, _Fashionable People_, _Market of Love_, _Greeks_, _Literature_, _Hints to Print Collectors_, _Puffing_, etc., coloured by Rowlandson. FOOTNOTE: [6] Francisco Caracci, and General Guise's collection (_Somerset-House Gazette_), from a note to Mr. Ephraim Hardcastle (Editor):--'Francisco Caracci was the younger brother of Augustino and Annibale; and Antonio, called from his deformity Il Gobbo, was the natural son of Augustino. These were the individuals who formed that celebrated family of painters. The father of Ludovico Caracci was a butcher (_era macelago_), and the father of Annibale and Augustino a tailor. Annibale resolved to mortify the pride of Ludovico, who despised him on account of his frequently reminding him of their low origin. He therefore privately painted the portraits of the Caracci, as large as life, in a butcher's shop, and showed his picture for the first time to Ludovico, when in company with Cardinal Farnese. It is now in the Guise collection, at Christ Church College, Oxford. Annibale is the butcher weighing the meat, which a soldier (Ludovico) is purchasing. Augustino stands near them. Antonio is lifting down a carcase, which conceals his deformity; and the old woman represents their mother. General Guise is said to have given 1,100_l._ for this picture, which was purchased for him at Venice. Talking of Oxford, did you ever see this collection? If the old General Guise had no more taste for fighting than for painting, I would have met him and his legions with wooden cannon. Yet I have heard certain _bigwigs_ of the University crack up the Guise Gallery! They are nice social fellows at Christ Church for all this, and men of taste; a conversation on painting is brought to table in hall there, like the wine--devilishly well iced.' 1808. SOCIAL AND GENERAL CARICATURES. _January, 1808._ _The Discovery._ _January, 1808._ _Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork with his Coat Buttoned Behind._ _February 16, 1808._ _Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life._ _Plate 3._ 'A Blackleg detected secreting cards &c., after drawing upon your purse on former occasions, is the properest of men to run the gauntlet, as he but too often produces substantial Miseries for Human Life.' _Plate 4._ 'Suffering under the last symptoms of a dangerous malady, you naturally hope relief from medical skill and practice; but flying periwigs, brandished canes, and clysters, the fear of random cuffs, &c., intrude and produce a climax in the Miseries of Human Life.' _March 1, 1808._ _Miseries of High Life._--'Briskly stooping to pick up a lady's fan, at the same moment when two other gentlemen are doing the same thing, and so making a cannon with your head against both of theirs, and this without being the happy man after all.' [Illustration: MISERIES OF HIGH LIFE.] _March 1, 1808._ _The Green Dragon._ Rowlandson del. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A clerical-looking and corpulent reprobate is receiving the upbraidings of his infuriated spouse, to whom the artist has playfully given some resemblance to a veritable dragon, with teeth, claws, and venom. The position of affairs is further explained by a spirited representation of 'Socrates and Zantippe,' which hangs on the wall. A pretty servant-maid, who is making a somewhat hasty exit, is supposed to have aroused the jealousy of the virago, whose vials of wrath have brought her stout helpmate to a state of stupefaction and terror. The picture is accompanied by the lines of Gay, from the _Beggars' Opera_:-- With rage I redden like scarlet, that my dear inconstant varlet, Stark blind to my charms, is lost in the arms of that jilt, that inveigling harlot! _March 1, 1808._ _Description of a Boxing Match._ June 9, 1806. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _April 1, 1808._ _Soldiers on a March._ 'To pack up her tatters and follow the drum.' Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The progress of the regiment is much impeded by camp-followers. A stream happening to cross the route, the marching party are wading through; the soldiers bearing in addition to their knapsack the fairer burden of a wife, and in some cases two infants, with kettles, gridirons, and other culinary appliances, the latter swinging on the end of their muskets. The officer commanding the party has the advantage of securing a mount on the plump shoulders of a pretty damsel, whose skirts are tucked up as a preparation towards wading across the water, with the feathered hero on her back. _May 12, 1808._ _The Consultation, or Last Hope._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--'So when the Doctors shake their heads, and bid their patient think of Heaven--all's over, good night!' From the picture, which rejoices in this comforting quotation, we judge the unfortunate invalid, introduced by the artist as the principal figure in this humorous plate, is in a bad case; his suffering face expresses all the forlorn terrors of his extreme situation, which seems tolerably hopeless, since he is attended by no less than ten learned practitioners, and a sick-nurse; it is hard if among them they cannot settle their patient's condition. The ten are by no means troubling themselves about their client all at once: it is sufficient that a brace of the brethren are feeling each a pulse, which operation does not seem to afford them much enlightenment, since one is consulting his chronometer, and the other is seeking inspiration from the head of his gold-topped stick. Their colleagues are more agreeably engaged in fortifying themselves for their arduous professional duties by attending manfully to the refreshment department. The gouty patient has evidently been a man of substance; over his mantel hangs a map of 'Rotten Boroughs,--Camelford, Devon, &c.' _May 21, 1808._ _Volunteer Wit, or not Enough for a Prime._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (227).--A party of Volunteer officers are gathered round the mahogany of their entertainer, who, it seems, is a notorious screw; the host is offering to fill the wine-glasses of the mess, but the dimensions of the glasses are somewhat miniature for bumper toasts. A challenge is given from the chair: 'Come, gentlemen-volunteers, to the right and left--Charge if you please to the King!' The vice-chair is winning the sympathies of the rest, and extracting a grin all round, by standing up, spectacles on nose, and responding: 'I should be very happy to obey your orders, Colonel, but really your glasses are so small, that, dash me if there's enough for a prime!' The Colonel's miserly disposition is hinted by the various papers thrown about, on the 'Current prices of Port wine,' and such maxims as 'A penny saved is twopence got'; with a statement pinned to the wall, 'How to get rich,' 'Pinch, squeeze, gripe, snatch, &c.' 1808 (?). _The Anatomy of Melancholy._ ''Tis a misery to be born, a pain to live, a trouble to die.'--A mixed scene of suffering and indifference. Propped up in a pillowed arm-chair, before the fire, is a melancholy invalid, old, decrepit, and ill-favoured. By his side is a list of 'Remedies against discontents,' 'Cure of jealousy,' &c.; on the mantel is an array of doctor's bottles, and a hatchment,--_groans, griefs, sadness_,--forms a cheerful adornment for the chimneypiece. Behind the sufferer, whose last hour, it seems, is approaching--since Death has thrust his head, arm, and hour-glass through a window above his head--is seated a blooming young damsel, decked out in all the attractiveness of an evening toilette; planted at a table by her side is a dandified admirer; before them a dessert is arranged, and decanters of wine are ready to hand. The nonchalant pair are pledging one another amorously in bumpers, while the spirit of the founder of the feast is departing. A painting of Democritus, his face wearing an expression of grief on one side, and laughter on the other, explains the transitory nature of sorrow, and the key of the situation is further offered by certain lines inscribed on a paper under the lady's hand: 'Come what may, the cat will mew, the dog will have his day.' _May 21, 1808._ _The Mother's Hope._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (No. 228.)--The Mothers Hope is a pretty juvenile termagant, a Turk of the most irreclaimable order. The young rebel is dancing about in a fine rage, scattering his playthings, and 'making a bobbery' which is setting the entire house by the ears. The screams of the intractable elder are imitated by an infant in arms, and a canary is adding its shrill pipings to the general squall, after the nature of little warblers. [Illustration: THE MOTHER'S HOPE.] The wilful child is making a general statement of refractory resolutions:--'I don't like dolls--I don't like canary birds--I hate battledore and shuttlecock--I like drums and trumpets--I won't go to school--I will stay at home--I will have my own way in everything!' The horrified grandmother is growing prophetic on the strength of this irreconcilable prodigy: 'Bless the Baby--what an aspiring spirit--if he goes on in this way he will be a second Buonaparte!' _June 4, 1808._ _The Sweet Little Girl that I Love._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg. (167.)--A long military gentleman, wearing spectacles, a pigtail, and a powdered wig and whiskers, in the course of his perambulations has come across a quaint round little body, as broad as she is long, and perched on pattens: the hero is stooping low to salute the lips of the dwarfed lady. The picture is designed as a parody upon the lines:-- My friends all declare that my time is misspent, While in rural contentment I rove: I ask no more wealth than Dame Fortune has sent, And the sweet little girl that I love. The rose on her cheek's my delight: She's soft as the down--the down of the dove. No lily was ever so fair As the sweet little girl that I love. _June 4, 1808._ _Odd Fellows from Downing Street, complaining to John Bull._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside (168).--John Bull, in his best clothes, and standing in the vicinity of the Treasury, is receiving a deputation, the members of which, as far as appearance goes, are singularly fitted for the order of Odd-fellows. The object of their interview is simply an appeal to the sympathies of the National Prototype: 'You must know, Mr. Bull, we are a society of Odd Fellows who had a Lodge in Downing Street, and were robb'd of our cash and accounts, notwithstanding we met at the King's Head, and so near the Treasury too! Is not it very hard? However, we have left Downing Street entirely.' John Bull, who, with his hand beneath his coat-tails, is ruminating over other more weighty matters applying to his own case, and peering through his huge spectacles, returns in reply: 'All I have to say, my good friends, is this--I am very sorry for you, but I must own I am of opinion if some more _Odd Fellows_ in Downing Street were to quit their situations it would be very much to my advantage!' _June 20, 1808._ _A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Very different cheer to the _Volunteer Prime_, is found on board the ship of the port-admiral. That worthy personage is drawn entertaining his naval colleagues, admirals, commodores, and captains, in his state cabin, with the best of cheer; baskets of prime vintage from the Isles of the Madeira, are ready to the nimble steward's hand, and the goodly flasks are uncorked in a twinkling. The jorums on the mahogany are capacious, and the glasses, which are freely emptied, would serve as goblets for more than half-pint bumpers; however, in spite of the hilarity, and the liberal circulation of the decanters, decorum is preserved, and the naval commanders are comporting themselves like 'fine old English gentlemen,' while the toast goes round:-- Come Hurricane, Drink your Wine. Here's to the wind that blows, The ship that goes, And the lass that loves a sailor. [Illustration: A SNUG CABIN, OR PORT ADMIRAL.] _June 30, 1808._ _Accommodation, or Lodgings to Let at Portsmouth._ Published by T. Tegg. (219.)--Certain smartly-rigged tars have just come on shore, evidently after a handsome haul in the way of prize-money, as the spruceness of their turn-out evinces. A highly presentable 'salt' has his wife in tow; the lady has evidently taken a share of his good fortune, being dressed in the height of the fashion, with ear-rings, necklets, and chains, heavy enough for cables, to which are suspended miniatures, seals, and watches. The happy pair are evidently about to set up housekeeping, and an advertisement-board has just arrested their attention, conveying the information, 'Lodgings for Single Men and their Wives,' with an invitation to ring the bell. 'Why, Nan,' exclaims the tar to his partner, 'this is the very berth we have been so long looking after!' _June 30, 1808._ _The Welsh Sailor's Mistake, or Tars in Conversation._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (220.)--The artist has assumed a little poetic licence to perpetrate a jokelet of a very harmless order. Groups of sailors are seated on the forecastle, some perched on coils of rope, others on sea chests; a British tar, on a barrel, with a canister of 'real Oronooko' by his side, is spinning a yarn to his messmates; he has arrived at the exciting incident of his narrative:--'and so then, do you see, David, we sprung a leak!' when his Welsh messmate, who cannot resist this allusion to a reputed national delicacy, rather irrationally interrupts him: 'Cot pless us--and save us--did you? and a ferry coot fetchitable it is; I should have liked to have had a pit with you.' _October 25, 1808._ _A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures._ Woodward del., engraved by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg. _November 1, 1808._ _Wonderfully Mended; shouldn't have known you again._ One of the series bearing Rowlandson's name, and published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.--The scene represents the consulting room of some eminent quack of the day, who, dressed in his morning-gown and slippers, with glasses on nose, is receiving his decrepit and melancholy patients. The comforting assurance given by the practitioner to his patients is, it appears, totally without foundation; all his clients, judging from their condition, being in a fair way to supplement the Bills of Mortality. _November 1, 1808._ _The Last Shift._ Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.--Interior of a pawnbroker's shop; two St. Giles's demireps are shown in the act of raising a loan to replenish their gin bottle, at the expense of their wardrobe. _November 1, 1808._ _Breaking Cover._ Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.--A fox-hunting party is passing through a village; one of the Nimrods has seemingly formed an attachment for a fair neighbour: standing on the back and saddle of his horse, he has contrived to raise himself to the level of the lady's casement, and she is leaning out of window, and rewarding his gallantry with a tender embrace; meanwhile her husband in his nightcap, opening the shutter below, is securing a prospect of the proceeding, which has thrown an expression of idiotic consternation over his simple features. _November 1, 1808._ _Get Money._--One of a series engraved in rough facsimile of Rowlandson's original drawings, and bearing an imitation of his autograph in the corner; published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street. Below the print appear the following lines:-- Get Money, Money still, And then let Virtue follow if she will. Three conventional types of Israelites are indicated standing in Duke's Place, the resort of Jewish clothesmen, eagerly canvassing the above doctrine, and carrying out its first injunction. [Illustration: DOCTOR GALLIPOT.] _November 1, 1808._ _Doctor Gallipot placing his Fortune at the feet of his Mistress._ Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street. Throw physic to the dogs. Doctor Gallipot, a brandy-faced empiric, who is dressed in the height of the 'Frenchified' fashion, the better to support his quackeries, is laying the implements of his profession, as his fortune, at the feet of a slightly theatrical looking lady, whose figure is delineated with Rowlandson's accustomed grace and spirit. _November 1, 1808._ _Rum Characters in a Shrubbery._ Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.--Four demireps, of dissipated appearance and varied characteristics, are regaling themselves on Booth's gin at a public bar or _Rum Shrubbery_. _About 1808._ _Bartholomew's Fair._ Nixon del., Rowlandson sculp.--The fun of the Fair is represented in full swing, and the humours of the scenes displayed on all sides are seized and hit off with the usual felicity of both artists. Judging from the caricature, the abolition of fairs in the City must have been a boon to public order and morality. The noise, disorder, and misrule of the festivity are taking place outside the hospital. Boat-swings are revolving, a few of the swings are getting into difficulties, upsetting, or the bottoms coming out, while some of the swingers find themselves indisposed from the motion. There are wandering sellers of sweets, pastry, and such things as were devoured at _fairings_, boys with links, for it is late, and dusk; booths for refreshments, where customers are eating hot cakes cooked on the spot. There are drinking stalls where tipplers are taking too much; as is illustrated in the person of a reveller who, finding himself overcome with liquor, has laid down in the gutter to take a little rest, an opportunity not lost sight of by the light-fingered gentry who have come for business; the toper's watch, purse, hat, and other portable property are swiftly transferred. There are booths for dancing, and there are merrymakers who are managing to dance outside; there are revolving wheel-swings and merry-go-rounds; there is a crowd of very miscellaneous merry-making company, and parties of jolly sailors arriving outside coaches. The harmony of the proceedings is varied by several rows; and, in more than one spot, rings are formed for fair fighting, and both men and women are exhibiting their prowess in the boxing line, or exchanging buffets and scratches. The signs and booths of famous showmen, once the splendours of by-gone fairs, are disposed around; among the spectacles which invited those of our forefathers who 'went to see the shows,' we may notice that Rowlandson has introduced Miles' Menagerie, Saunder's Tragic Theatre, Gingle's Grand Medley, Miss Biffin, Polito's Grand Collection, Punch, &c. ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES AGAINST BUONAPARTE. As we have already seen, Rowlandson's pencil and graver were enlisted against the Corsican; it would seem that the artist's anti-Napoleonic proclivities ran strongly from this period until the downfall of the Emperor; or else--which is the more reasonable solution--English prejudices against the man whose almost frantic antagonism to this country is now forgiven, if not well-nigh forgotten, demanded an unlimited supply of pictorial satires to stimulate the national hatred, a state of things which pleased both the publishers and the public, and kept the caricaturist occupied, although it is to be regretted that these somewhat imaginative scenes of horror employed his ready skill to the exclusion of those representations of social manners, and the observances of the world around him, whose eccentricities he might have sketched from the life--scenes drawn from a quaint and picturesque generation of which his earlier career has left us such lively pictures, works which alone render his name worthy of his reputation, and which form in themselves an inexhaustible and valuable legacy to his followers. _July 8, 1808._ _The Corsican Tiger at Bay._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The mighty disturber of the peace of Europe is figured under the form of a savage tiger, with his natural head, and on which he wears the enormous military cocked hat with its long plume--most indispensable accessories in all the caricaturist's portraits of the great 'little Corsican.' The tiger's claws are rending four 'Royal Greyhounds,' which are quite at the mercy of the ferocious conqueror; but a larger and stronger pack of 'Patriotic Greyhounds' are giving tongue, and a fierce charge is being made by some very determined and mischievous-looking hounds who are rushing up to the attack. The _Dutch Frog_, isolated on his own little mudheap, is promising to join the fray: 'It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.' The _Russian Bear_ and the _Austrian Eagle_, are kept in secure bondage by heavy fetters, but the triple-headed bird of prey is looking forward to a fresh onslaught, and prompting his fellow-captive: 'Now _Brother Bruin_, is the time to break our chains.' John Bull, on his own island shores, has come out in the character of a sportsman; he is pointing his piece at the tiger brought to bay, and is singing nursery rhymes for the general encouragement:-- There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead: D--- me, but we'll manage him amongst us! _July 10, 1808._ _Billingsgate at Bayonne, or the Imperial Dinner._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The members of the Royal family of Spain, decoyed to Bayonne, are sitting down to a very unruly repast, the entire company being at loggerheads. The Queen has risen from table, and in true fishfag style she is raving at her son Ferdinand, who is confronting her: 'Now, you villain, I'll tell you to your face--and before my dear friend Boney--you are no child of the King's--so you may shut up.' At this famous interview the Oueen of Spain, it may be remembered, after upbraiding Ferdinand for his usurpation, actually declared him illegitimate. This argument, according to the print, does not demolish her opponent, who is replying: 'Madam, I know all your tricks, and all the tricks of your Prince of Peace.' The Infants of Spain are encouraging the last speaker: 'Brother, don't mind her, we, the Infants, acknowledge you;' a terrific personage, with the emblem of a Royal crown on the back of his seat, is banging down his fist and demanding: 'Am not I the great Zavallos? will you be silent?' Those on the opposite side are more tranquilly disposed; Charles, who had abdicated by Buonaparte's compulsion in favour of his son Ferdinand, is crying: 'I wish they would let a poor old King play quietly on his fiddle!' while one of the diners is actually paying attention to his meal, and wishing 'they would leave him at peace.' Little Buonaparte in the uniform of a general, as he is usually represented, has risen from a high-raised throne, erected in accordance with his imperial state, at the head of the table; he is affecting to be in a passion at the general discord which he had ingeniously contrived to foster and bring about: 'I'll tell you what, if you make such a riot at my table, I'll be d----d if I don't send you to the Round House!' _July 12, 1808._ _The Corsican Spider in his Web._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The formidable Emperor is represented in a highly successful character as an overgrown spider; his body is formed of 'unbounded Ambition,' which is topped with his own head, he enjoys an amazing capacity for swallowing the surrounding insects, which seem unable to resist being drawn into his toils. The voracious Corsican Spider in the centre of his wide-spread web, is swallowing down a brace of _Spanish Flies_. 'Small Flies Innumerable' are entrapped in strings, and even the largest specimens seem powerless to disentangle themselves; the Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese, Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, and Venetian Flies are all more or less effectually secured; the 'Pope Fly' is half entrapped, and is expressing a fear of being dragged in. The 'Russian Fly,' of more hostile disposition, has caught his feet in the snare: 'I declare I was half in the web before I made the discovery.' The 'Turkish Fly' is at present free, but its security is uncertain; 'I am afraid it will be my turn next.' Stout John Bull is figured as the 'British Fly'; he is observing the wiles of the 'Corsican Spider' without any anxiety on his own account: 'Ay, you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web!' _July 12, 1808._ _The Corsican Nurse soothing the Infants of Spain._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (245.)--Buonaparte is acting as nurse to the rival Spanish claimants, still clad in his uniform and boots, with the indispensable cocked hat of Brobdingnagian proportions; the Emperor is lulling the entire royal family to sleep: with one foot he is rocking the 'Imperial Cradle,' which contains 'The good old King and his amiable Consort,' while Don Carlos, in swaddling clothes, with a padlock round his neck, is slumbering upon one of the Corsican's knees; upon the fellow is held Antonio under similar conditions, while the arch-deceiver is rocking a duplicate Imperial Cradle containing the unconscious 'Prince of Asturias,' with his other foot. _July 22, 1808._ _The Beast as described in the Revelations (Chap. 13), resembling Napoleon Buonaparte._ Designed by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Beast, which has sprung from Corsica, is drawn with seven heads; the names of Austria, Naples, Holland, Denmark, Prussia, and Russia are on the respective crowns; the seventh head, which is of course that of Napoleon, is severed from the trunk, while vomiting forth flames. The distance shows cities on fire, where the beast has wrought destruction; on his body are the figures 666, the total of the numerals found in the name of Napoleon Buonaparte added together, taking _a_ as one, _i_ as ten, _t_ as a hundred, and so on. Spain is represented as the champion who has had the courage to make a stand against the monster. The patriot has crippled the destroyer; the hero is armed with a sabre of _True Spanish Toledo_, and is crying, 'True patriotism shall thus subdue the monstrous beast, and quell the rage of war.' His shield is _Catalonia_, a mitre, _St. Peter's, Rome_, is his helmet; _Spanish Patriotism_ has struck the decisive blow from his right arm, _Asturias_; his sword-belt is _Madrid_; his legs _Cordova_; and with his foot, _Cadiz_, he is strangling a serpent. The fleet of Admiral Purvis is seen on the seas; Hope, with her anchor, is stooping to catch the crowns of France, Spain, and Portugal, which have been shaken from the brow of the smitten beast. _August 18, 1808._ _From the Desk to the Throne._ _A New Quick Step by Joseph Buonaparte._ _The Bass by Messrs. Nappy and Tally._ Designed by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--This caricature was issued to burlesque the astonishing elevation of Joseph Buonaparte to the throne of Spain, of which, through his brother's ingenuity, he secured a brief and by no means tranquil possession. On Napoleon's coronation, his brothers had been created princes, and Joseph had been made King of Naples before the Spanish intrigue. The caricaturist's version, though striking, is not literally true. According to the print Joseph Buonaparte has one foot resting on the rail of the desk at which he lately occupied a seat, with the other he is endeavouring to touch Madrid on the map of Spain and Portugal. His pen has fallen from his ear, and he is straining to clutch the royal regalia of Spain which is above his head. From a paper pinned to the wall we are informed this remarkable promotion is taking its rise from the office of a 'public notary, Bayonne.' His fellow-clerks, pausing with their quills uplifted, to marvel at this sudden flight of ambition, are making various pertinent observations: 'What a prodigious step for a notary's clerk!' One clerk is exclaiming, 'Why, Joseph, whither art thou going?'--'Whither?' replies the elevated clerk, 'Whither, but to fill my high destiny, and, like my noble brother, sway the sceptre of another!' His colleagues are adding as riders, 'He must needs go whom the devil drives, and should it cost his neck!' But proverbs tell of many slips Between the tankard and the lips, And really I am apt to give The proverb credit as I live! _August 21, 1808._ _King Joe's Retreat from Madrid._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The occupancy of the Spanish throne has not proved, if we may trust the print, a profitable sinecure of long duration. King Joseph is rushing away from his new dignity as fast as his legs will carry him; the crown has slipped off in the flight; the fugitive's invincible standards and the 'Legions of Honour' are in tatters, but the hands of the Frenchmen are not empty; king, officers, and troops are all loaded with bags of plate and bullion. The Spanish soldiers are up in arms; their priests are encouraging the pursuers, who are firing a volley into the midst of the scared invaders, while crying 'Stop thieves! stop thieves! they have stolen the plate from the palace.' Joseph's fears are too much for his self-command; he is appealing to his great little brother, 'Why don't you stop? the Philistines are pursuing us.' Napoleon is replying from his carriage, which is tearing away up hill as fast as his coachman can urge the horses, 'I can't, brother Joe, I am in a great hurry myself.' _August 27, 1808._ _King Joe on his Spanish Donkey._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--King Joe, the new sovereign, is finding his seat anything but easy, and even his military saddle has proved a failure; the animal he has had the temerity to mount has become ungovernable; the usurper is losing his seat; the crown is flying one way, the sceptre another: 'Bless me, what a restive animal this is! I thought he would have been as gentle as a French pony, and was as easily managed as an Italian greyhound!' The Spanish donkey is neighing at a pack of 'Saddle-bags for the Spaniards,' and his heels are kicking to the winds the various proclamations, 'All found with arms to be shot!' 'No liberty to a Spaniard!' 'The road to fortune!' 'Joseph, King of Spain!' 'French news!' 'No quarter!' Thumbscrews for the rebels!' _September 12, 1808._ _A Spanish Passport to France._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A Spanish don, dressed in all his ancient splendour, with a huge sombrero hat and feathers, a long Toledo rapier, and wearing his fierce moustachios turned up to his eyes, is kicking the French invader to France: '_Va-t'en, Coquin_.' The usurper, whose courage has disappeared, is sneaking off in undissembled terror; he is receiving the indignities inflicted by the don with abject servility: '_Votre très humble serviteur, monsieur_.' _September 12, 1808._ _The Political Butcher, or Spain cutting up Buonaparte, for the benefit of her neighbours._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Spanish don has put on a butcher's apron and sleeves; the body of the late 'disturber of the peace of Europe' is extended on his dissecting board, and the operator is cutting up the Corsican with professional zeal. The Spaniard is holding up his enemy's head, and encouraging the other powers, who have come to take a share in the dismemberment of the Corsican, 'Now, my little fellows, here are bones for you all to pick. The meat, being just killed, may be somewhat toughish, but I'll warrant it fresh and high-flavoured. True Corsican veal, I assure you, you see the head!' The Imperial double-headed eagle of Austria, is swooping over this morsel: 'I have long wished to strike my talons into that diabolical headpiece, and now I hope to do it effectually!' The Prussian eagle is crippled: 'Oh! the delicious morsel for an eagle to pick, but my clipt wings cannot bear me so high. Cruel Boney! why cut them so short?' The Italian greyhound is practising a new concerto called, 'If you will not when you may, when you will it shall be nay.--The harmony by Spain and Portugal.' The Danish dog is picking all the flesh left on the arm: 'The nearer the bone the sweeter the meat; but,' alluding to the presence of England, 'the nearer that Bull, the less I can eat.' The British bull-dog, who has been enjoying portions of the joints, has started up: 'I should like to have the picking of that head, for I dare say it is hare-brained!' The Russian bear is indulging in the luxury of licking the Napoleonic boots, and he is beginning to long for a taste: 'This licking gives me a mortal inclination to pick a bone, as well as the rest. But Turkey's a fine garden, and would be a vast acquisition.' Sweden, a white-coated dog, is giving good counsel to her neighbour: 'Yes, but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush!' The Dutch frog is seated on a cask of Hollands, beside a barrel of 'somniferous cordial' for King Louis; he is smoking a reflective pipe over his prospects. 'If I were sure matters are as they appear I should like to pick a bone, it is true; but wisdom bids us doubt, and prudence condemns precipitation, so I'll e'en take another whiff!' In the slaughter-house at the rear are shown the carcases of Murat, Dupont, Junot, and others, suspended by the heels. _September 15, 1808._ _The Fox and the Grapes._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Corsican fox, who is still at large, has turned his tail on certain rich vines heavy with ripe Spanish grapes, which are growing beside fine prolific Portuguese plum-trees. The fox, who bears Napoleon's head, with his inevitable huge cocked hat, is speciously trying to convince the Gallic cock that the fruit, which he cannot reach, is not worth gathering, 'Believe me, my dear doodle-do, you would not like them. I found them so sour that I absolutely could not touch them!' This excuse is not satisfactory to the hearer, 'But, my good friend, you promised to bring me home some Spanish grapes and Portugal plums; where are they?' _September 17, 1808._ _Prophecy Explained._ '_And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space._ Revelation, chap. 17, v. 10.'--The fulfilment of prophecy is pictorially set forth with a completeness which must have been felt eminently satisfactory: the five kings that have fallen, the crowned monarchs of Prussia, Bavaria, Holland, Saxony, and Wurtemberg, are all tumbling about in the 'Slough of Disgrace and Ridicule.' The one that is, is of course 'King Nap.' The little Emperor, in all his imperial state, robes, crown, orb and sceptre, is still left standing, but his face wears an apprehensive expression, as he is gazing on the fate of the one that 'continued but a short space'--'King Joe,' to wit, who is driven beyond the Pyrenean Mountains in a state of consternation, while a fair goddess, the figure of Spanish liberty, floating on the clouds, is depriving the usurper of the Spanish crown. _September 20, 1808._ _Napoleon the Little in a Rage with his Great French Eagle._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Napoleon, in his general's uniform, with his sword drawn, and bristling with rage up to the tip of his preposterous feather, is menacing his huge French eagle, which is much larger than himself; the Imperial crown is on the bird's head, and one of his legs is tied up--the results of damages sustained in the recent flight from Spain. It will be remembered that Joseph Buonaparte evacuated Spain August 1808. Napoleon is furiously rating his fugitive slave, 'Confusion and destruction! what is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread your wing of victory over the whole Spanish nation?'--'Ay, it's fine talking, Nap, but if you had been there, you would not much have liked it; the Spanish cormorants pursued me in such a manner that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every feather; besides it got so hot I could not bear it any longer!' _September 24, 1808._ _A Hard Passage, or Boney Playing Base on the Continent._ The design suggested by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Buonaparte, with a drum for a seat, and standing on the map of the Continent, with his foot placed on Spain and Portugal, is trying to scrape through a difficult piece of music, _Conquest of Spain and Portugal_; the music book is open on a desk before him. 'Plague take it, I never met with so difficult a _passage_ before. But if I can once get over the _flats_ we shall do pretty well, for you see the key will then change to B sharp.' The Russian bear, with a muzzle on his jaws, is trying to accompany his leader: 'Why, that is natural enough, brother Boney, though this French horn of yours seems rather out of order, I think!' _September 25, 1808._ _King Joe & Co., Making the Most of their Time previous to Quitting Madrid._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. A cut-purse of the Empire and the rule, Who from the shelf the precious Diadem stole And put it in his pocket.--SHAKESPEARE. Before taking their hurried departure, the 'Intrusive King' and the French invaders are helping themselves to the spoils of the Spaniards; 'Joe' is assisting himself to the regalia; the generals are packing the royal and ecclesiastical plate of Spain into chests for transport; strong boxes are being filled with bags of ducats and medals; the troopers are making off with sacks of treasure; the curtains are torn down; pictures are wrenched from the walls, and such objects as statues, which cannot be carried away, are ruthlessly destroyed. The French, it appears, wantonly damaged or burnt all the property which came in their way when they were unable to carry it off. The wardrobe, carriages, and plunder from Madrid were retaken by the British army. The numerous carriages, of all descriptions, and tumbrils so completely blocked the road, and filled the contiguous fields, it was difficult to pass. The carriages were completely loaded with baggage, and the miserable animals pushed into deep and wet ditches. The four-wheeled tumbrils were loaded with ammunition and money; the soldiers got thousands of dollars and doubloons; it is said that one man alone secured doubloons to the value of 8,000_l._ The entire plunder, baggage, money, artillery, and the supplies of the French army were taken, carriages, animals, and a great many ladies. Joe always travelled with a suite of the latter, generally beautiful women. It is said there were ten ladies of his private family with him; those were all taken; it is said he only escaped with the clothes on his back, having lost his hat. By way of replenishing his goods and chattels he actually stole the linen, plate, and clothes from every place he stopped at, until he reached the French frontier.' _September 29, 1808._ _Nap and his Partner Joe._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The Dons of Spain and Portugal, reunited in a body, are heartily kicking the two Buonapartes into the mouth of a mysterious monster, opened for the reception of the pair and vomiting forth flames from a cavern supposed to represent the entrance to the infernal region. So seeing we were fairly nick'd, Plump to the Devil we boldly kick'd Both Nap and his Partner Joe! _October 1, 1808._ _Nap and his Friends in their Glory._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A remarkably well assorted quartet, according to English views at the period, consisting of Napoleon, seated beside his friends Death, the Devil, and Joseph, ex-king of Spain. Napoleon, at whose back is a view of Malmaison, has risen to propose a toast: 'Come, gentlemen, here is success to plunder and massacre!' Two of the guests are receiving this sentiment with rapture, but 'Joe, the intruder,' is sitting in sulkiness, discomfited by the late experience which had been forced on him. A NEW SONG--NAP AND HIS FRIENDS IN THEIR GLORY. _To the Tune of 'Drops of Brandy.'_ NAP. These Spaniards are terrible rogues, They will not submit to my fetters, With patience so gracefully worn-- Nay, sought for--by nations their betters. But let us return to the charge, And no longer with levity treat them, Once get them to lay down their arms, And I'll warrant, brave boys, we shall beat them. Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do! DEATH. Brother Boney, we'll never despair, A trusty good friend I have found you, Kill, plunder, and burn, and destroy, And deal desolation around you. Then gaily let's push round the glass, We'll sing and run riot and revel, And I'm sure we shall have on our side, Our very good friend here, the Devil! Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do! THE DEVIL. Believe me, friend Death, you are right, Although I'm an ugly old fellow, When mischief is getting afloat, O then I am jolly and mellow. As soon as these Spaniards are crush'd Again we'll be merry and sing, Sirs, And that we will quickly 'complish, And Joey here, he shall be king, Sirs. Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do! DON JOEY. Excuse me from lending my aid, You may jointly pursue them, and spike them, But lately I've seen them, and own, If I speak the plain truth, I don't like them. They Liberty cherish so dear, That they certainly make her their guide, O, Who pleases may make themselves King, But may I be devilled if I do! Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do! _October 3, 1808._ _John Bull arming the Spaniards._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--John Bull has arrived to assist the Spaniards. The national prototype, grasping his cudgel of oak, and surrounded by an array of stores of his own liberal providing, is addressing friendly encouragements to the Don: 'My good friend, you see I have brought you clothing for ten thousand men, _viz._, cheese, shoes, stockings, belts, and small clothes, besides arms and ammunition, and if that won't do I'll bring you Gully and Gregson, and the Devil is in it if _they_ won't do!' His new ally is grateful, and especially looks forward to the assistance of the prize-fighters: 'We thank thee, Johnny, for all thou hast brought, and if thou canst bring the other two we shall be more obliged to thee!' John Bull has furnished his friend with a tolerably liberal outfit, piles of guns, bayonets, and swords, barrels of powder, shot galore, bales of stockings, shirts, coats, belts, shoes, with (for what reason is not shown) a marvellous selection of cheeses--Stilton, Cheshire, Gloucester, Cambridge, Yorkshire, Leicestershire, Cottenham, Bath, Wiltshire, Cream, Derbyshire, &c.; a sack of gold pieces is also included amongst the supplies: we learn that at one time, on the Peninsula, 'English guineas had no attraction, the dollar or moidore was the medium; but since guineas have been introduced in payment of the army the natives seem to appreciate their value.' _October 17, 1808._ _Junot disgorging his Booty._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--General Junot has been seized by a British tar, who is making the invader disgorge his plunder, consisting of utensils of gold, jewels, and specie; the Spanish Don is holding a receptacle for this costly booty in course of restitution. The French officers are stamping in despair over the disasters of their chief: '_Morbleu! comme il a mal au coeur, notre pauvre général._' Jack Tar, evidently thinking of 'the yellow boys,' is replying, 'More blue? why, ye lubber, what do ye mean by that? don't ye see it's as yellow as gold?' _November 19, 1808._ _The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The career of the Corsican is set forth pictorially in a progressive series of eight pictures. 'First, A ragged-headed Corsican peasant; second, Studying mischief at the Royal Military Academy at Paris; third, An humble ensign, in a Republican corps, requesting a situation in the British army; fourth, A determined atheistical Republican general ordering his men to fire on the Parisians volleys of grape-shot; fifth, A Turk at Grand Cairo; sixth, A runaway from Egypt; seventh, A devout Catholic; eighth, An Emperor on a "throne of iniquities," _O tempora, O mores!_' On the back of the imperial seat, on which the last step of Napoleon's progress leaves him, is posted a list of murders set down to the Corsican's account:--'Duke d'Enghien, prisoners at Jaffa, Palm, Captain Williams, Pichegru, Caton, Toussant, &c., &c.' AN ACADEMY FOR GROWN HORSEMEN, AND ANNALS OF HORSEMANSHIP. COMMUNICATED BY GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ. _Riding Master of the Horse, and Grand Equerry to the Doge of Venice._ ILLUSTRATED WITH PLATES, DESIGNED BY H. BUNBURY, ETCHED BY T. ROWLANDSON. To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.--SHAKESPEARE. [Illustration] GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ. 'As I shall be as concise and explicit as possible in the valuable instructions and discoveries I am now about to communicate to the world, it will be the reader's own fault if he does not profitably benefit by them. When I have told him how to choose a horse, how to tackle him properly, in what sort of dress to ride him, how to ride him out, and, above all, how to ride him home again, if he is not a complete horseman in the course of ten or a dozen summers, I will be bold to foretell that neither the skill of Mr. Astley, nor the experience of Mr. John Gilpin, will ever make him one. 'Nil desperandum, me duce Teucro. 'DIRECTIONS FOR THE ROAD. 'In riding the road, observe in passing a whisky, a phaeton, or a stage-coach, in short, any carriage where the driver sits on the right hand, to pass it on that side, he may not see you on the other, and though you may meet with a lash in the eye, what is the loss of an eye to a leg, or perhaps a neck. 'Take care never to throw your horse down, it is an unlucky trick, and fit only for boys. Many gentlemen of my acquaintance, and I too, have been thrown down by our horses; yet I scarce know an instance upon record of a gentleman throwing his horse down, but many have complained to me of their servants doing it for them. [Illustration: HOW TO PASS A CARRIAGE.] 'In passing a waggon or any tremendous equipage, should it run pretty near a bank, and there be a ditch and an open country on the other side, if you are on business and in a hurry, dash up the bank without hesitation, for should you take the other side, and your horse shy at the carriage, you may be carried many hundred yards out of your road, whereas by a little effort of courage you need only graze the wheel, fly up the bank, and by slipping or tumbling down into the road again go little or nothing out of your way. 'ACCIDENTAL EXPERIMENTS AND EXPERIMENTAL ACCIDENTS, COMMUNICATED BY VARIOUS CORRESPONDENTS. _'Letter to Mr. G. Gambado._ '"Sir--I want your advice, and hope you will give it me concerning a horse I have lately bought, and which does not carry me at all in the same way he did the man I bought him of. Being recommended to a dealer in Moorfields (who, I think, is no honester than he ought to be), I went to him and desired to look into his stable, and so he took me in, with a long whip in his hand, which, he said, was to wake the horses that might perhaps be asleep, as they were but just arrived from a long journey, coming fresh from the breeders in the North. There were some fine-looking geldings, I thought, and I pitched upon one that I thought would suit me, and so he was saddled, and I desired the dealer to mount him, and he did, and a very fine figure the gelding cut; and so the people in the street said, and a decent man in a scratch-wig said the man who rode him knew how to make the most of him, and so I bought him. But he goes in a different manner with me, for instead of his capering like a trooper he hangs down his head and tail, and neither whip nor spur can get him out of a snail's gallop. And I want to know whether by law I must keep him, as he is certainly not the horse I took him for, and therefore I ought to have my money again. [Illustration: HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF A HORSE.] '"The limner in our lane was with me when I bought him, and has taken a picture of him as he was with the dealer on his back, and another as he now goes with me upon his back, by which you will see the difference, and judge how better to advise me upon it. '"I am, Sir, your humble servant, '"TOBIAS HIGGINS. '"Lavender Row, Shoreditch." '_Mr. Gambado's Reply._ '"Sir--Upon a strict examination of the two pictures by the limner in your lane, I am clear you are in possession of the identical horse you intended to purchase, although he does not exhibit quite so much agility under you, or make so tearing a figure as when mounted by Mr. ----, who I am well acquainted with, and who, you may depend, is as honest a man as any that deals in horseflesh. '"You could have no right to return the horse if he went no better than one with his legs tied. You stand in the predicament of Lord ----, who gave twenty guineas for Punch, and when he found he could not make him speak prosecuted the showman; but my Lord Chief Justice adjudged the man to keep his money, and my Lord his Punch, although he could not get a word out of him. '"My opinion is, sir, as you ask it, that the decent man in the scratch-wig made a very sensible remark when he observed that my friend Mr. ---- knew how to make the most of a horse, and I am satisfied that you, sir, know with equal facility how to make the least of one. '"I am, Sir, your humble servant, '"G. GAMBADO. '"P.S.--I am sorry to add my maid tells me that two shillings out of your five were very bad ones." [Illustration: HOW TO MAKE THE LEAST OF HIM.] '_Letter to G. Gambado, Esq._ '"Sir--Being informed that you are now at home, and desirous of giving every information in your power to those who may stand in need of it respecting their horses, I beg leave to submit my case to you, which, considering how fond I am of the chase, you must admit to be a lamentable one. Relying, however, sir, as I do, on your philanthropy (I should more properly say Phillipigy) and that zeal in the cause which has so long characterised you, I make no doubt but the small difficulties I now labour under will be soon surmounted. '"You must know, sir, I am very fond of hunting, and live in as fine a scenting country as any in the kingdom. The soil is pretty stiff, the leaps large and frequent, and a great deal of timber to get over. Now, sir, my brown horse is a very capital hunter, and though he is slow, and I cannot absolutely ride over the hounds (indeed the country is so enclosed that I do not see so much of them as I could wish), yet in the end he generally brings me in before the huntsman goes home with the dogs. So thus far I have no reason to complain. Now, sir, my brown horse is a noble leaper, and never gave me a fall in his life that way, but he has got an awkward trick (though he clears everything with his fore-legs in capital style) of leaving the other two on the wrong side of the fence, and if the gate or stile happens to be in a sound state, it is a work of time and trouble to get his hind-legs over. He clears a ditch finely indeed with two feet, but the others constantly fall in; that gives me a strange pain in my back like what is commonly called lumbago, and unless you kindly stand my friend, and instruct me how I am to bring these hind-legs after me, I fear I shall never get rid of it. If you please, sir, you may ride him a-hunting yourself any day you will please to appoint, and you shall be heartily welcome. You will then be better enabled to give me your advice; you can't have a proper conception of the jerks he will give you without trying him. [Illustration: HOW TO DO THINGS BY HALVES.] '"I am, Sir, with due respect, '"Your very humble servant, '"NIC. NUTMEG, Clerk." '_The Answer._ '"REVEREND SIR,--Your brown horse being so good a hunter, and, as you observe, having so fine a notion of leaping, I should be happy if I could be of any service in assisting you to make his two hind-legs follow the others, but, as you observe, they seem so very perverse and obstinate that I cherish but small hopes of prevailing upon them. '"I have looked and found many such cases, but no cure. '"However, in examining my papers I have found out something that may prove of service to you in your very lamentable case. [Illustration: TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.] '"An hostler has informed me that it is a common trick played upon bagsters or London riders, when they are not generous to the servants at the inn, for a wicked boy or two to watch one of them as he turns out of the gateway, and to pop a bush or stick under his horse's tail, which he instantly brings down upon the stick, and holds it fast, kicking at the same time at such a rate as to dislodge the bagman that bestrides him. Here, sir, is a horse that lifts up his hind-legs without moving his fore ones, and just the reverse, as I may say, of yours, and perhaps the hint may be acceptable. Suppose, then, when your horse has flown over a gate or a stile in his old way, with his fore-legs only, you were to dismount and clap your whip or stick properly under his tail and then mount again, the putting him in a little motion will set him on his kicking principles in a hurry, and it's ten to one but, by this means, you get his hind-legs to follow the others. You will be able, perhaps, to extricate your stick from its place of confinement when you are up and over (if you are not down), but should you not it is but sixpence gone. I send you this as a mere surmise; perhaps it may answer, perhaps not. '"I beg to thank you for your offer, which is a very kind one, but I beg to be excused accepting it; all my ambition being to add to the theory with as little practice as possible. '"I am, Rev. Sir, your most humble servant, '"G. GAMBADO." '_Letter to G. Gambado, Esq._ '"GOOD SIR,--I am in great haste, having a great quickness of pulse, and my bed being now warming, but cannot get into it without first informing you how fast I came home from market to-night, and upon my old mare, too, who was always unkind before as to going. But so it happened. The old mare, that I could never get to go above three miles an hour, as soon as ever I was up, set off, and the devil couldn't stop her till she got home--ten miles in about fifty-eight minutes. I'm in a heat yet. But I have found out her motive, and now the public may make use of it. I had bought a couple of lobsters to carry home, had their claws tied up, and put one into each of my great-coat pockets. Well, the old gentleman in my right pocket (a cunning one, I warrant him) somehow or other contrived to disengage his hands, and no doubt soon applied them to the old mare's side, and, I imagine, had got fast hold of a rib by the time I reached the first mile-stone, for she was mad, I thought, and my hat and wig were gone in a twinkle. However, when I got off, and had taken a little breath, I went into the kitchen to unload, but missed one of my lobsters; so I ran back into the stable, and there was the hero hanging at the old mare's side; she'd had enough of it, and so stood quiet. [Illustration: HOW TO MAKE THE MARE TO GO.] [Illustration: HOW TO PREVENT A HORSE SLIPPING HIS GIRTHS.] '"I thought myself bound to inform you of this, hoping it would prove a great national discovery. I mean to keep lobsters on purpose, for it's cheaper than buying a horse instead of my old mare; and I can go faster with one of them in my pocket than I could post. When my boys come home from school, to hunt in the forest, I mean to treat each of them with a cray-fish for his pony, and then, I think, we shall head the field. '"I am, sir, yours, ever in haste, '"PETER PUFFIN." [Illustration: THE APOTHEOSIS OF GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ.] '_Letter to_ MR. G. GAMBADO, _editor of various learned performances_. '"SIR,--You have no doubt heard of a description of Natural Philosophers, called Pigeon Fanciers, who breed the bird of that name, and all its varieties. I was once, sir, a member of this community, till growing tired of punters, tumblers, nuns, croppers, runts, &c., &c., I was resolved to enlarge my ideas, by extending my researches and abandoning the biped, to obtain a closer acquaintance with the quadruped. I became a horse-fancier. Being fond of riding, and daily observing, in my airings to Brentford, a great variety of horses, and a still greater variety in their motions, I, some years since, set about making a collection of such as were singular and eccentric in their shapes and actions, and I flatter myself no private museum can boast of a more admirable variety than I have possessed. * * * * * '"As amongst pigeons, so amongst horses, there are tumblers. The feat is, however, performed differently, and varies considerably in its effect on the performers. As the pigeon executes this without anything on its back, so the horse seldom achieves it without somebody upon his. To the latter, therefore, we must give the greatest share of merit, who ventures to perform upon a hard road what the other does only in the air, without even a cloud to brush against. The one preferring, it seems, the Milky, and the other the Highway. '"Among horses, I have never discovered a pouter; but I have had a fine puffer. The noise he made, however, and particularly when at his business, was not pleasant; and I let a neighbour have him cheap, who had a good three-stall museum, and a very heavy vehicle to draw; so that in all weathers he might enjoy the entertainment of his very extraordinary qualifications. [Illustration: THE TUMBLER, OR ITS AFFINITIES.] '"It is well known that there is a horse that is called a carrier, so there is a pigeon likewise. But as it may not be known to every one, I must inform you that from very long observation, I find the pigeon is the most expeditious of the two. '"I am, sir, your very humble servant, '"BENJ. BUFFON." 'ADVICE TO WOULD-BE HORSEMEN. 'I have given you the hints contained in my previous letters supposing you are at home enough on horseback to ride out alone, and may possibly be tempted to travel the road, as either the lucre of gain, or the _universal passion_, as a celebrated author calls the love of fame, may send you forth. 'Let me entreat you to examine your tackling well at setting out, particularly from an inn and after dinner. See that your girths are tight; many a good fall have I got by not attending to this. Ostlers are too apt to be careless, and ought never to be paid till we see them the next time.[7] An instance of a singular nature occurred at Huntingdon a few years since to the Rev. D. B., of Jesus College, in Cambridge, which has given a discovery to the world (productive, indeed, of a paper war), but which may turn out beneficial to mankind, as it proves 3 to be equal to 4. [Illustration: HOW TO RIDE A HORSE UPON THREE LEGS.] 'The Doctor dined at the "Crown"; it was dusk when he set out northwards. I myself saw 3_s._ charged in his bill for wine; this accounts for his want of observation. As for the ostler's, I must attribute it to his having been paid beforehand. The Doctor went off at a spurt pretty much in the manner I have recommended, and having got clear of the pavement he wished to (what is called) mend his pace; but his horse was obdurate, and all his influence could not prevail. The Doctor fancied at times he went oddly, and therefore brought to at Alconbury, five miles from Huntingdon, and alighted for an examination, when he discovered that the ostler, through inattention, had buckled up one of the horse's hind-legs in the surcingle; and to this alone he had to attribute his hobbling way of going. 'There was an ostler[8] at Barnet who was a moralist, possibly this at Huntingdon was an experimental philosopher, and thought an old member of the University the most proper subject to put his experiment in execution. It certainly answered as far as five miles; but how it would succeed in bringing horses of different forms together over Newmarket, I am not competent to determine. It seems as if one might work a lame horse thus and keep his unsound leg quiet. If this experiment has been repeated it has been in private, for I have not heard of it; and I much question if it would ever be generally adopted. When I say _generally_, no reflection upon general officers. A timid major, however, might keep his horse in due subjection on a review day by this method. 'GEOFFREY GAMBADO. [Illustration: DR. CASSOCK, F.R.S., INVENTOR OF THE PUZZLE FOR TUMBLE-DOWN HORSES.] '_Letter to_ MR. GAMBADO. '"I return you my most hearty thanks for the very salutary advice you have been good enough to give me, from which I have derived much improvement, and should have acknowledged sooner had I made sufficient trial of the fine machine you recommended in such warm terms. My hobby, as I told you before, is an admirable animal, and finely calculated for a pensive man like myself to take the air upon. It was a pity he was prone to tumble, and that, too, in stony roads the most, for he was otherwise bordering on perfection. So I sent for a carpenter on the receipt of your recipe, and had a large puzzle of oak made for him, after the pattern of those worn by the Squire's pointers, and I have found it answer prodigiously. '"I have had nothing like a bad fall lately, except one day in cantering over a ploughed field, where, upon a blunder, the machine entered the ground with such force as to introduce a portion of the hobby's head along with it. We came clean over, and for some time I thought my hobby's neck was broken. I did not mind it myself; but I shall take care in future always to gallop on the hard road, and then such another catastrophe cannot ensue. '"I am, sir, '"Your very obsequious humble servant, '"CALEB CASSOCK. '" P.S.--I forgot to tell you my parishioners stare at me a good deal. The machine has an odd appearance, I own, but not altogether unpicturesque. I got the drawing master of Mr. Birch's school to send you a sketch of us. It is esteemed a likeness. That of the hobby is rather flattering." '_My Remarks._ '"I am happy to find the puzzle has answered so well; and I doubt not now it has been tried and approved by such a right-headed reverend gentleman, one who is also so good a horseman, and understands all the matter so well, that, by producing his name, I shall be able to get a patent for it, which cannot but prove very lucrative, for who has the horse that he will swear will never tumble down? '"This I believe would be a question that would pose (upon oath) every man on horseback in Hyde Park on a Sunday. '"Though Dr. Shaw, who is a great traveller indeed, has the modesty to assure us that the Barbary horses never lie down; yet even he has not the effrontery to say that they never tumble down! '"G. G." '_To_ G. GAMBADO, ESQ. '"SIR,--Hearing much of your knowledge in horses, I beg leave to ask your advice in a business where my delicacy, as a gentleman, is deeply concerned, and flatter myself that you will sensibly feel for my situation, my future fortune in life depending on your decision. I have the happiness to be well received by a young lady of fortune in this town, who rides out every morning, and has had the goodness to permit me to join her for some days past. I flatter myself I am beloved, but, sir, the horse I ride is my father's, and he will not allow me to part with him: and this horse, sir, has an infirmity of such an embarrassing nature, that our interviews are unpleasantly interrupted at frequent intervals, and my dear Miss S---- will perhaps ride away with some other gownsman who is more decently mounted. '"Be pleased, sir, to send me a recipe for this complaint, or I may lose my dear girl for ever. I have tried several experiments, but all in vain, and unless you stand my friend I shall go distracted. '"I am, dear Sir, in a great fuss, yours most truly, '"GEORGE GILLYFLOWER. '"St. John's Coll. Cam." [Illustration: 'JUVENUM PULCHERRIMUS ALTER, ALTERA QUAS ORIENS HABUIT PRÆLATA PUELLIS.'--OVID.] '_Note from my Farrier to the above._ [Illustration: HOW TO TRAVEL UPON TWO LEGS IN A FROST.] '"HONOURED SIR,--By advice from Mr. Gambado of your horse's complaint, I have sent you a powder so strong, that, if administered night and morning in his corn, I will be bold to say, no horse in England shall ever suffer from the like again after Thursday next. Shall be very thankful for your Honour's custom in the same way in future, and your lady's too, if agreeable; being, Honoured Sir, '"Your servant to command, '"JO. WOOD". '_To_ GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ. '"KIND SIR,--I have an extraordinary story to tell you, that happened to me t'other day, as I was bringing two pair of stays to Miss Philpot's, at Kentishtown. I lives, sir, at Finchley; and a-top of Highgate Hill, my horse makes a kind of slip with his hind feet, do you see, for it was for all the world like a bit of ice the whole road. I'd nothing for't but to hold fast round his neck, and to squeeze me elbows in to keep the stays safe; and egad, off we set, and never stopt till I got to the bottom. He never moved a leg didn't my horse, but slided promiscuously, as I may say, till he oversate somebody on the road; I was too flurrisome to see who: and the first body I see'd it was a poor man axing charity in a hat. My horse must have had a rare bit of bone in his back, and I sit him as stiff as buckram. '"Your honor's obedient servant, '"JAMES JUMPS."' _The Art of ingeniously tormenting_, with five plates by Woodward and Rowlandson (Tegg). _The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror_, in numbers. THE CARICATURE MAGAZINE OR MIRROR OF MIRTH BEING A COLLECTION OF HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL CARICATURES DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON, ESQ. LONDON PUBLISHED BY THOMAS TEGG 111 CHEAPSIDE [Illustration: TITLE TO 'CARICATURE MAGAZINE.'] _The Beauties of Tom Brown_, embellished with engravings by Rowlandson, one vol. 1808. _Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners_, embellished with ten caricatures. Engraved by Rowlandson from original drawings by Woodward. Published by Thomas Tegg, 111 Cheapside, 1808. Republished under the title of _Chesterfield Burlesque_, 1811. _Mottoes._ The better sort should have before 'em A grace, a manner, a decorum.--BUTLER. O tempora! O mores!--JUVENAL. The times are out of joint, O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set them right.-SHAKESPEARE. Folding plate to face the title. Votaries of Fashion in the Temple of Folly. How to walk the Streets. The Art of Quizzing. How to keep up a conversation with yourself in the Public Streets. How to break a shop window with an umbrella. Behaviour at table. Notoriety, Singularity, Whimsical. Gentleman and Mad Author. 'I will allow you twelve shillings a week to be my amanuensis!--What do you think of that?' How to look over your husband's hand while at cards, and find fault with him for losing. The Nobleman and the little Shopkeeper. _Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners._ 1. _How to keep up a conversation with yourself in the public streets._--An absent-minded orator (passing the Forum Debating Society), is rehearsing, with lavish declamatory action, his peroration to the amazement and alarm of the passers-by. 2. _Notoriety._--A buck in a _Jean-de-Brie_. _Singularity._--An antiquarian oddity in the costume of three-quarters of a century earlier than the fashion prevailing at the date of the drawing. _Whimsical._--A dwarf of a woman wearing a cloak down to her toes, and peaked poke head-dress. 3. _The Art of Quizzing._--Three dandies are promenading arm-in-arm, and unceremoniously criticising aloud a fine and pretty woman, who is walking with a 'squab-old-put': 'D----d fine woman, pon honour, but what a quiz of a fellow she has taken in tow there!' _August 25, 1808._ _Behaviour at Table._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The author offers four excellent directions touching the genteel 'behaviour expected at table,' and if his injunctions were strictly carried out, there is no question that his pupils would be accepted in every society as remarkably polished and well-bred young gentlemen, who had studied Lord Chesterfield's 'advice' to some purpose; perfect ornaments, indeed, to any company amongst which they might find themselves, and desirable patterns for imitation. 1. Place your elbows on the table like a Church Warden at a parish vestry. 2. Stretch your arms across the table to get at what best suits your appetite. 3. Cough and yawn over the dishes. 4. Loll on two chairs while making use of your toothpick. [Illustration: BEHAVIOUR AT TABLE.] 1808. _A Lecture on Heads_, by G. A. Stevens,[9] with additions as delivered by Mr. Charles Lee Lewis, embellished with twenty-five humorous characteristic prints, from drawings by George Moutard Woodward Esq. Engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg. Frontispiece: Interior of Covent Garden Theatre. C. Lee Lewis delivering 'A Lecture on Heads' to a crowded audience. Sir Whisky Whiffle. Jockey. Half Foolish Face. Drunken Head. A Freeholder. Female Moderator. Master Jacky. London Blood. A Lady of the Town. A Connoisseur. A worldly-wise man; or a man wise in his own conceit. Male Moderator. Italian Singer. An Old Maid. An Old Bachelor. The Crying Philosopher. Counsellor. Frenchman. British Sailor. Spaniard. Dutchman. Politician. Methodist Preacher. 1808. _British Sailor._ _Frenchman._ _Spaniard._ _Dutchman._ Four characters on a sheet, published by T. Tegg.--The same etchings are given, under similar descriptions, in the 'Lecture on Heads,' by G. A. Stevens, with illustrations by G. M. Woodward, engraved by T. Rowlandson. _December 1, 1808._ _Miseries of Human Life_ (Plates issued in previous years and collected in 1808). Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson, and published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Frontispiece: The title in a frame; below it a gouty old miser, wrapped in flannel, is being dragged off in his chair by Death, in spite of his crutch and his struggles to get back to his riches, spread in the strong box, over which he has lost all control; his heirs in the meantime are helping themselves, making light of his hoarded savings, and taunting the impotent money-grubber, who has accumulated riches for them to fling away. _Miseries of Human Life._--Introductory dialogue: 'Sickness befriends temperance by the simplicity of diet which it introduces; it wards off the varied injuries of the open air by requiring the party to inhale a thousand times over, the cherishing, equable, and safely treasured atmosphere of a chamber.' The picture treats all these fanciful advantages from a burlesque point of view: a sufferer is on his pallet surrounded by all the inconveniences of washing, cooking, and other domestic arrangements, limited to _one apartment_, to serve him as 'kitchen, parlour, and bed-room, and all.' _Miseries of the Country._--Following on horseback a slow cart, through an endless narrow lane, at sunset, when you are already too late, and want all the help of your own eyes, as well as your horse's feet to carry you safe through the rest of your unknown way. _More Miseries._--'Being overpersuaded to stand up in a country dance, when you know, or, what is equally bad, conceive that a bear would eclipse you in grace and agility.' (_April 1, 1807._) _Fabricious's Description of the Poets._ Vide 'Gil Blas.'--'People think that we often dine with Democritus, and there they are mistaken. There is not one of my fraternity, not even excepting the makers of Almanacs, who is not welcome to some good table. As for my own part, there are two families where I am received with pleasure. I have two covers laid for me every day, one at the house of a fat director of the farms, to whom I have dedicated a romance, and the other at the house of a rich citizen, who has the disease of being thought to entertain wits every day at his table; luckily he is not very delicate in his choice, and the city furnishes him with great plenty.' (1807.) _Miseries of Human Life._--Struggling through the curse of trying to disentangle your hair, when by poking curiously about on board of ship it has become clammed and matted with pitch or tar, far beyond all the powers of the comb. (1807.) _More Miseries._--Having so flaccid a cheek that the parish barber, who shaves you, is obliged to introduce his thumb into your mouth to give it a proper projection, cutting his thumb in this position with the razor. (1807.) _Miseries of Social Life._--Escorting four or five country cousins, on their first importation into London from the _Terra Incognita_ of England, to the lions, the waxworks, the monuments, &c. &c. _Miseries Miscellaneous._--Stepping out of a boat at low water on a slippery causeway, upon a stone which slides under you, and you descend in the mud up to the chin. (1807.) _A Stag at Bay, or Conjugal Felicity._ _A Romance._--A matrimonial dispute; the wife is attacking her spouse incontinently, and he is protecting himself, and keeping the aggressor at arm's length with a dirty mop. _The Shaver and the Shavee._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sc. _Showing off._--A pair of horsemen are endeavouring to put on a sportsmanlike appearance, which is somewhat disturbed by the restiveness of their steeds; one rider is slipping off, and the other, while his horse is going down on his knees in a reverential posture, is flung over the animal's head. _The Production of a Post-House._--The stable-door of a post-house is opened, and a sorry broken-kneed ramshackle horse is trotted out, to the amusement of the people standing about, and to the horror of a gentleman who has evidently come for a mount. _Symptoms of Choking._--A corpulent individual has suddenly left the dinner-table, under an impulse to choke; the rest of the company are thrown into such alarm at his critical situation, that the table-cloth, soup-turreens, wine, decanters, plates, glasses, and all the service are dragged on to the floor in universal destruction. (1806.) _The Enraged Vicar._--A smaller version of this subject (see March 1, 1807). To see them rattle, howl, and tear, By Jove, 'twould make a parson swear. _Symptoms of Restiveness._--The restiveness referred to appears to be nothing more than a tendency to rest in one spot; a sailor, probably at Portsmouth, from the view of the sea and shipping, is mounted on a steed which he is vainly belabouring with a cudgel, while an old hag is banging away at the poor brute with a long and heavy broom, to the delight of a convivial party, assembled to drink outside a public-house, within view of the dilemma. (1808.) _Pall Mall._ O bear me to the paths of fair Pall Mall, Safe are thy pavements, grateful is thy smell; At distance rolls along the gilded coach, Nor sturdy carmen on thy walks encroach. (1807.) _Miseries of Public Places._--After the play, on a raw, wet night, with a party of ladies, fretting and freezing in the outer lobbies and at the street-doors of the theatre, among chairmen, barrow-women, yelling linkboys, and other human refuse, in endless attempts to find out your servant or carriage, which, when found out at last, cannot be drawn up nearer than a furlong from the door. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries Miscellaneous._--The necessity of sending a verbal message of the utmost consequence by an ass, who, you plainly perceive, will forget (or rather has already forgotten) every word you have been saying. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries of Reading and Writing._--As you are writing drowsily by the fire, on rousing and recollecting yourself, find your guardian in possession of your secret thoughts, which he never ceases to upbraid you with. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries Personal._--When in the gout receiving the ruinous salutation of a muscular friend (a sea captain), who, seizing your hand in the first transports of a sudden meeting, affectionately crumbles your chalky knuckles with the gripe of a grasping-iron, and then further confirms his regard for you by greeting your tenderest toe with the stamp of a charger. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries of the Country._--While you are out with a walking party, after heavy rains, one shoe suddenly sucked off by the boggy clay, and then, in making a long and desperate stretch (which fails), with the hope of recovering it, the other is left in the same predicament. The second stage of ruin is that of standing, or rather tottering in blank despair, with both bare feet planted ankle-deep in the quagmire. (_January 1, 1806._) _Miseries of London._--Chasing your hat (just blown off in a high wind) through a muddy street--a fresh gust always whisking it away at the moment of seizing it; when you have at last caught it deliberately putting it on, with all its sins upon your head, amidst the jeers of the populace. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries of Travelling._ '_O Miserabile mihi._' Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.--A restive horse in a gig backing into the windows of a potter's shop; alarmed at the terrific crash, you become panic-struck, with the perspiration starting from every pore. (_April 12, 1807._) _Miseries of Travelling._--Being mounted on a beast who, as soon as you have watered him on the road, proceeds very coolly to repose himself in the middle of the pond, without taking you at all into his counsel or paying the slightest attention to your remonstrances. (1807.) _Miseries of Social Life._--Sitting for hours before a smoky chimney, like a Hottentot in a kraal; then, just as your sufferings seem at last to be at an end, puff, puff, whiff, whiff, again, far more furious than ever. Add to this a scolding wife. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries of Social Life._--Walking in a wind that cuts to the bone, with a narrating companion, whose mind and body cannot move at the same time; or, in other words, who, as he gets on with his stories, thinks it necessary, at every other sentence, to stand stock-still, face about, and make you do the same; then, totally regardless of your shivering impatience to push on, refuses to stir an inch till the whole of his endless thread is fairly wound out. 'Dixit et adversi stetit ora.' (1807.) _Miseries of the Country._--Losing your way on foot at night in a storm of wind and rain, and this immediately after leaving a merry fireside. (1806.) _More Miseries._--Being nervous and cross-examined by Mr. Garrow (in a Law Court). (_April 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Endeavouring to make violent love under the table and pressing the wrong foot. (_April 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Sitting on a chair which a servant has fractured and put together the preceding morning, and upon attempting to lean back falling to the ground before a large party; a country servant bursting into a roar of laughter. (_April 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Being obliged to kiss a remarkably plain woman at forfeits, when you engaged in the pastime only with the hope of being able to salute a lovely young lady, to whom you are particularly attached. (_April 1, 1807._) _Miseries of Travelling._--Starting for a long ride, on a dinner engagement, without a great-coat, in a mist, a mizzle, a drizzle, a rain, a torrent. On arriving at the house at last, completely drenched, you have to beg the favour of making yourself look like a full or empty sack, by wearing your host's clothes, he being either a dwarf or a giant, and you the contrary. (_January 1, 1807._) _Miseries of Games, Sports, &c._--In skating, slipping in such a manner that your legs start off in this unaccommodating posture; from which, however, you are soon relieved by tumbling forwards on your nose, or backwards on your skull. Also learning to cut the outside edge on skates that have no edge to cut with--ice very rugged. (_January 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--In the country, going to a party to dinner, getting very tipsy, quitting the house in a dark night, and getting upon your horse with your face towards the tail, and wondering during the few minutes that you are able to keep your seat, amidst the jeers of your companions, what freak can have entered the brain of the beast to go backwards. (_April 1, 1807._) _Miseries of the Table._--Inviting a friend, whom you know to be particularly fond of the dish, to partake of a fine hare, haunch, &c., which you have endeavoured to keep exactly to the critical moment, but which is no sooner brought in than the whole party, with one nose, order it to be taken out. (1807.) _More Miseries._--At an inn, going into a bed too short, with a wooden leg, which you were too fatigued to unstrap, drawing up the living one, going to sleep with the other sticking out at the bottom, which, when the chambermaid comes in for the candle, she conceives to be the handle of the warming-pan, which she has carelessly left in the bed. (_April 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Sending a challenge, requesting a timid friend to attend you to the field, who, you think, will not fail to acquaint the magistrate of it; going with honour to the appointed spot, anxiously looking back at every step to see if the Bow Street officers are coming, without seeing a soul but your antagonist and the seconds. (_April 1, 1807._) _Miseries Domestic._--Squatting plump on an unsuspected cat in your chair. (_January 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Being persuaded to put your finger into the cage of a parrot and to rub its poll, upon an assurance, from its doating mistress, that it is the most gentle bird in the universe, suddenly feeling the sanguinary effects of its beak. (_April 1, 1807._) _More Miseries._--Having a newly-rolled gravel walk, finding some friends whom you had asked to dine with you amusing themselves before dinner by drawing each other in your child's chaise, which disastrously stood at the bottom of the garden, within sight; seeing the narrow wheels cut up the walk most unmercifully, and being deterred by a false notion of politeness from giving them a hint to desist. (_April 1, 1807._) _Cold Broth and Calamity._--A smaller edition of this subject, the disasters of various parties on the ice, but treated with perfect originality as regards the various incidents. _Miseries Domestic._--Waking in the middle of the night in a state of raging thirst, eagerly blundering to the washing-stand, and there finding the broad-mouthed pitcher, which you lift to your lips, so full that, besides amply satisfying your thirst, it keeps cooling your heated body, and purifying your linen with the overplus. (_1806._) _Miseries of the Country._ Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.--Passing the worst part of a rainy winter in a country so inveterately miry as to imprison you within your own premises; so that by way of exercise, and to keep yourself alive, you take to rolling your gravel walks (though already quite smooth), cutting wood (though you have more logs than enough), working the dumb-bells, or such other irrational exercise. (_April 12, 1807._) _Miseries of the Country._--While deeply, delightfully, and, as you hope, safely engaged at home in the morning, after peremptory orders of denial to all comers whomsoever, to be suddenly surprised, through the treachery or folly of your servant, by an inroad from a party of the starched, stupid, cold, idle natives of a country town, who lay a formal siege (by sap) to your leisure. (_1807._) _Miseries of London._--Being a compulsory spectator and auditor of a brawling and scratching match between two drunken drabs, in consequence of the sudden influx of company, by whom you are hemmed in a hundred yards deep in every direction, leaving you no chance of escape till the difference of sentiment between the ladies is adjusted. Where you stand you are (that is, I was) closely bounded in front by a barrow of cat's meat, the unutterable contents of which employ your eyes and nose, while your ear is no less fully engaged by the Tartarean yell of its driver. (_1807._) _Miseries of Travelling._--On packing up your clothes for a journey, because your servant is a fool, the burning fever into which you are thrown when, after all your standing, stamping, kneeling, tugging, and kicking, the lid of your trunk refuses to approach within a yard of the lock. (_1807._) _More Miseries._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Being pinned up to a door, round the neck, by the horns of an enraged overdriven ox. (_April 1, 1807._) _Miseries of the Country._--While on a visit in the Hundred of Essex being under the necessity of getting dead-drunk every day to save your life. (See 1807, p. 78.) Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.... _Miseries of Social Life._--Dining and passing the whole evening with a party of fox-hunters, after they have had what they call 'glorious sport;' and, while you execrate the very name of a hound, being gorged with the _crambe recocta_ of one chase after another, till you wish the country was underground. (_January 1, 1807._) THE MICROCOSM OF LONDON, OR LONDON IN MINIATURE. _With Illustrations by Pugin and Rowlandson._ PUBLISHED BY R. ACKERMANN, REPOSITORY OF ARTS, 101 STRAND. With reference to the illustrations, which form the principal feature of this work, we borrow a paragraph from the 'Introduction':-- 'The great objection that men fond of the fine arts have hitherto made to engravings on architectural subjects has been that the buildings and figures have almost invariably been designed by the same artists. In consequence of this the figures have been generally neglected, or are of a very inferior cast, and totally unconnected with the other part of the print; so that we may sometimes see men and women in English dresses delineated in an English view of an Italian palace, and Spanish grandees in long cloaks and ladies in veils seated in one of our own cathedrals. The dress, we know, is neither new nor rare; But how the powers came it there? 'To remove these glaring incongruities from the publication, a strict attention has been paid, not only to the country of the figures introduced in the different buildings, but to the general air and peculiar carriage, habits, &c., of such characters as are likely to make up the majority in particular places. 'The architectural part of the subjects that are contained in this work will be delineated, with the utmost precision and care, by Mr. Pugin, whose uncommon accuracy and elegant taste have been displayed in former productions. With respect to the figures, they are from the pencil of Mr. Rowlandson, with whose professional talents the public are already so well acquainted that it is not necessary to expatiate on them here. As the following list comprises almost every variety of character that is found in this great metropolis, there will be ample scope for the exertion of his abilities; and it will be found that his powers are not confined to the ludicrous, but that he can vary with his subject, and, wherever it is necessary, descend From grave to gay, from lively to severe.' Rowlandson and Pugin del. et sc. 1. Drawing from Life at the Royal Academy, Somerset House. 2. Exhibition Room, Somerset House. Great Room at the Royal Academy, at the time of the annual picture Exhibition. 3. Board Room of the Admiralty, Parliament Street. 4. A View of Astley's Amphitheatre, Westminster Bridge. 5. The Asylum, or House of Refuge for Friendless and Deserted Girls, Lambeth. 6. Christie's Auction Room. 7. The Great Hall, Bank of England. 8. Bartholomew Fair, Smithfield. 9. Billingsgate Market. 10. The Hall, Blue Coat School, during the orations on the grand anniversary, St. Matthew's Day, September 21. 11. Bow Street Office. An Examination before the Magistrates. 12. Pass Room, Bridewell. 13. British Institution, Pall Mall (late Alderman Boydell's 'Shakespeare Gallery'). 14. The Hall and Staircase, British Museum, Montague House. 15. The Great Hall, Carlton House, Pall Mall. 16. The Roman Catholic Chapel, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 17. Coal Exchange. 18. The Royal Cockpit, Bird Cage Walk, St. James's Park. 19. Water Engine, Coldbath Fields Prison. 20. The College of Physicians, Warwick Lane. 21. House of Commons. (During a Debate.) 22. Court of Chancery, Lincoln's Inn Hall. 23. Court of Common Pleas, Westminster Hall. 24. Court of King's Bench, Westminster Hall. 25. Court of Exchequer, Westminster Hall. 26. Covent Garden Market. Westminster Election. Hustings in front of St. Paul's Church. 27. Covent Garden Theatre. (During the performance of an Oratorio.) 28. The Custom House, from the Thames. 29. The Long Room, Custom House. 30. The Debating Society (the Athenian Lyceum), Piccadilly. 31. Doctors' Commons (Great Rider Street, St. Paul's.) 32. Drury Lane Theatre. 33. The Corn Exchange, Mark Lane. 34. Exhibition of the Society of Painters in Water Colours, Old Bond Street. 35. Fire in London. (Albion Mills, Surrey side of Blackfriars Bridge; burnt March 3, 1791.) 36. Fleet Prison (the Debtors' Prison, as rebuilt after the riots in 1780), Ludgate Hill. 37. Foundling Hospital. (The Chapel.) 38. Freemasons' Hall (Freemasons' Tavern), Great Queen Street. 39. Great Subscription Room at Brooks', St. James's Street. 40. Guildhall. 41. Guildhall, Court of King's Bench. Examination of a Bankrupt before his Creditors. 42. Common Council Chamber, Guildhall. 43. The Hall, Heralds' Office, or the College of Arms, St. Benet's Hill, Doctors' Commons. 44. Middlesex Hospital, Charles Street (Ward Room). 45. East India Company. The Sale Room. 46. King's Bench Prison (Debtors, &c.), St. George's Fields. 47. King's Mews, Charing Cross. 48. Lambeth Palace, 1809. 49. Lloyd's Subscription Room. (Underwriters' Room.) 50. Leadenhall Market. 51. Egyptian Hall, Mansion House. 52. House of Lords. 53. Lottery Drawing, Coopers' Hall. 54. Magdalen Chapel, Magdalen House. 55. The Mint. Stamping the Impression (Tower). 56. Mounting Guard at St. James's Park (Horse Guards). 57. Newgate Chapel. ('The Condemned Sermon.') 58. Old Bailey. (Examination of a Witness.) 59. Opera House, Haymarket. (A Ballet Scene.) 60. The Pantheon. (A Masquerade.) 61. The Philanthropic Society's Chapel (St. George's Fields). 62. The Pillory, Charing Cross. 63. The Post Office, Lombard Street. (Sorting Office.) 64. Quakers' Meeting (Bishopsgate Street). 65. The Queen's Palace, St. James's Park. (Buckingham House.) 66. The Royal Circus, St. George's Fields. 67. The Royal Exchange. 68. Library of the Royal Institution, Albemarle Street. 69. Sadler's Well Theatre. (An Aquatic Representation.) 70. Sessions' House, Clerkenwell. 71. Society for the Encouragement of the Arts, &c., Adelphi. 72. Society of Agriculture, Sackville Street, Piccadilly. (An assembly of members in the Great Room.) 73. Somerset House, Strand. 74. Stamp Office, Somerset House. 75. Stock Exchange, Capel Court, Bartholomew Lane. 76. Drawing Room, St. James's Street. 77. St. Luke's Hospital, Old Street. 78. St. Margaret's Church, Westminster. 79. The Church of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. 80. St. Paul's Cathedral. 81. Surrey Institution. Lecture Theatre. 82. Synagogue, Duke's Place, Houndsditch. 83. Tattersall's Horse Repository, Hyde Park Corner. 84. The Temple Church. 85. View of the Tower of London. 86. Horse Armoury, Tower. 87. The Board of Trade, Treasury, Whitehall. 88. Trinity House, Great Tower Hill. 89. Vauxhall Gardens. (The Orchestra.) 90. Church of St. Stephen, Walbrook. 91. The Watch House, St. Mary-le-Bone. 92. West India Docks. 93. Westminster Abbey. 94. Westminster Hall. 95. Chapel Royal, Whitehall. 96. The Workhouse, St. James's Parish. 97. Greenwich Hospital. The Painted Hall. 98. The Hall, Chelsea Hospital. 99. Military College, Chelsea. 100. Covent Garden Theatre. 101. South Sea House. Dividend Day. 102. Excise Office, Broad Street. 103. View of Westminster Hall and Bridge. 104. A View of London and the Thames. Taken opposite the Adelphi. 1808 and 1809. _An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting._ Illustrated with five prints. From designs by G. M. Woodward, Esq. (author of 'Eccentric Excursions'). Rowlandson, sc. 12mo. London. Printed for Thomas Tegg. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; More clamorous than a parrot against rain; More new-fangled than an ape; And more giddy in my desires than a monkey.--SHAKESPEARE. Folding frontispiece.--A Savoyard with a barrel-organ and a troupe of dancing dogs; a Frenchman with a dancing bear; a showman dragging about a dromedary, with a monkey perched on its hump, and pulling the animal's ears. A bird made to fire off a gun, in the rear of a half-starved individual who is lost in hungry longing outside the window of an eating-house; while the proprietor is taunting the famished gazer with a huge round of beef. A cat is torturing a mouse. A woman is eavesdropping. Another cat is getting a bird out of a cage. A woman is emptying a vessel over the heads of a crowd gathered round a tussle. A cat is launched in the air on bladders. A pair of ruffians are racing on donkeys, and flogging the beasts unmercifully. All these episodes set forth various phases of the fine art of Tormenting. 1. A old vixen is tormenting a pretty maid, who is in tears: 'Don't cry, child. You cannot help being handsome; but I assure you I have often wept from my dreadful apprehensions for you, lest you should come to walk London streets!' 2. A family scene. Train up a child in the way it should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. SOLOMON. Two children have strung up a pair of kittens by their tails; the tabbies are clawing one another in the air. Two boys have tied a saucepan to the tail of a frightened dog, and a little girl is singeing a cat's whiskers with a brand from the fire. The father is smoking his pipe and declaring, 'Dear little innocents, how prettily they amuse themselves!' while the mother is made to say, 'I love to see children employed!' 3. A husband, with literary tastes, is vainly trying to interest his lady in his reading: 'Now, my dear, now for the passage; I am sure it will delight you. Shakespeare, "Tempest," act the fifth. "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces----"' The wife is bouncing up to the bell, although there is a blazing fire, interrupting the reading with, 'I wonder the girl don't bring the coals, one might as well sit in an ice house, but I was born to be tormented!' 4. An old curmudgeon is seated in his armchair, a decanter of wine before him, with a chart of the gold mines of Peru and Mexico at his back; a young gentleman, who has been unfortunate, is standing before him in an attitude of despondency, little encouraged by the friendly advice of the hunks whose assistance he has vainly implored: 'Ah, my young friend, I told you what it would all come to, but you have brought it all on yourself. I'll not ask you to sit down, because you seem in a hurry; however, I'll give you my advice: as you say you are not worth a guinea, I'd advise you to quit London, and purchase a small estate in the country!' FOOTNOTES: [7] A learned dancing-master in the University of Oxford, who taught politeness also, and published a book upon that subject, fixed the same period for passing a stile in some cases that is here judiciously recommended for the payment of an ostler. His precept was that a well-bred man meeting another on the opposite side of a stile ought on no account to be persuaded to go over first. The name of this ingenious author was Towle. Had two zealous pupils of his school met each other at a stile, it is supposed they must have concluded their lives on the premises. [8] James Ripley, many years ostler at the "Red Lion," who published a volume of letters. [9] George Stevens, the originator of the 'Lecture on Heads,' was a very indifferent actor, but a man of humorous parts, and in himself was considered, by his contemporaries, most entertaining company. The idea of the lecture was given him by a country carpenter, who made the character-blocks which formed the subjects of illustration. It proved an extraordinary success in the hands of the originator. He carried it about England, through the States of America, and, on his return, to Ireland; and managed to net some ten thousand pounds by this lucky venture. After he retired more than one actor attempted it, with poor results. Lewis was the most successful of Stevens's imitators, and he had made such arrangements with the author as entitled the latter to a royalty for the use of his 'Lecture on Heads.' It probably derived its principal charm from the style of its delivery. Read in cold blood, its brilliancy and point are by no means startling. 1809. _The Discovery._ Etched by Rowlandson, 1798. Republished, Jan. 1808-9. _January 15, 1809._ _The Head of the Family in Good Humour._ Published by Tegg, Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.--John Bull, a very giant among a race of pigmies, is surrounded by the heads of the different states, who are all hurling out threats against his chances of peace. Napoleon is thundering for _Ships, Colonies, and Commerce_. The Muscovite is denouncing: 'Russian vengeance attend John Bull.' Holland is blustering: 'I'll eternally smoke him.' Tom Paine is offering this warning: 'Let him tremble at the name of America.' The other potentates are following up these threats with valedictions of their own: 'Beware of Prussia;' 'Austria will never pardon him;' 'Spanish fury overtake him;' and 'Let him beware of Denmark.' John Bull is smiling good-naturedly at all these empty vapourings: 'Don't make such a riot, you little noisy brats, all your bustle to me is no more than a storm in a teacup!' _January 15, 1809._ _The Old Woman's Complaint, or the Greek Alphabet._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--An old country dame has called upon a pedagogue, with a fanciful grievance, to make respectful complaints against the dominie's scholars, who, cap in hand, and satchel on back, are making their entrance into the learned presence, behind their accuser. The schoolmaster, who wears a red night-cap, and slippers, is made to say: 'Good woman, you are always making complaints against my scholars; what have they done to offend you now?' 'Please your honour's worship, they followed me up and down, and said one to another, _at her, beat her, damn her, pelt her!_ and a great deal more that I do not recollect.' The young pupils are explaining the old lady's misconception: 'Indeed, sir, we were only repeating our Greek alphabet, in order to get it quite perfect; what the old woman heard was only _Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta_, and so on to the conclusion!' _February 1, 1809._ _A Traveller refreshed in a Stagnant Pool, after the Fatigues of a Dusty Day's Journey._ Published by R. Ackermann, Strand. _February 1, 1809._ _Mrs. Bundle in a Rage; or too late for the Stage._ Published by R. Ackermann, Strand. _February 1, 1809._ _Launching a Frigate._ Newton del., Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg, 67 Cheapside.--A trim nymph, very fashionably dressed, is starting on her travels from an hotel, situated, as we recognise, from the notice on the wall, near Portsmouth Dock. The figure of the promenader is drawn with care, and is perfectly in Rowlandson's most telling manner; behind the curled, feathered, and blooming damsel, is an ancient and colossal harridan, bedizened with showy finery, who is supposed to have launched the fair charmer. Characteristic glimpses of Portsmouth are given in the background of the picture. _March 20, 1809._ _A Mad Dog in a Coffee House._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The advent of a nondescript animal, supposititiously assumed to be a ferocious mad dog, has produced the utmost terror and confusion amongst the grave frequenters of a mercantile coffee-house, somewhat after the model of _Garraway's_. All the city brokers, and pillars of 'change found therein, are scared out of their sober senses; some, like the little Jew in the corner, are paralysed with fear; others are trying to creep under the tables; a few are seeking escape by the door, which they are effectually blocking; and groups of affrighted fugitives are endeavouring to gain the refuge of the staircase. A select knot have made for the bar, and are flinging themselves _pell-mell_ over the counter; the chimney, and similar places of refuge, are eagerly sought; tables are mounted; comfortable citizens are thrown on their backs, like turtles, and trodden on, while the pressure of viler bodies above is expressing a stream of specie from the well-filled pockets of the overthrown. A cat, her tail swollen to abnormal proportions, is making a frantic rush into the midst of the cowering poltroons under the table. Rowlandson generally manages to introduce certain advertisements appropriate to his subjects, and a notice stuck on the wall of the coffee-house conveys the following piece of shipping intelligence: _For the Brazils, 'The Cerberus,' Captain Pointer. Burden 300 tons. Laying off Barking Creek. Enquire of Benjamin Bell, Barge Yard, Broker_. [Illustration: A MAD DOG IN A COFFEE HOUSE.] 1809. _Disappointed Epicures._ Another version of _A Mad Dog in a Dining-room_.--In this case the dog has run between the legs of a man bringing in a dish of cutlets, which bestrew the carpet; his downfall has in turn overset another retainer, whose soup tureen has come to grief; the butler, more engaged in watching the calamities of his fellows, has allowed the 'spruce beer' to escape in a shower of froth all over the place. The scene is well worked out; over the door of the dining-room is a picture representing a party of corpulent friars seated round a refectory board. The faces of the party--it is a bachelor-dinner in this instance--express more annoyance than alarm; they are dejected at the prospect of a curtailed repast. 1809. _A Mad Dog in a Dining-room, or Disappointed Epicures._--This print, which has never before been engraved in its present form, is a literal reproduction of the original study; one of the collection of drawings by Rowlandson in the possession of the present writer. The picture tells its own story so graphically, that it is unnecessary to attempt any fuller elucidation of the subject. [Illustration: A MAD DOG IN A DINING-ROOM.] _April 21, 1809._ _The Comforts of Matrimony. A Good Toast._ Published by Reeve and Jones.--The picture represents a scene of domestic felicity of the most touching completeness. The husband is browning a muffin for tea; his wife's arm is wound round his neck during this delicate operation; his children are enjoying their peaceful meal; an infant is tranquilly slumbering in the cradle; and a cat, surrounded by her family of kittens, carries out the unity of the subject. Another of the series partly published in 1808, in which a rude facsimile of the original drawings has been attempted, without much success. _The Tables Turned. Miseries of Wedlock._ A pendant to the preceding.--The domestic horizon is clouded by storms. The late happy pair are only kept from demolishing each other by the table placed between them, which is being wrecked in the struggle. The wife, in a fury, is holding on to her husband's hair with all her force, while he has a firm grasp of his unfortunate spouse's head, at which he is aiming a pewter-pot; children, chairs, crockery, cutlery, and food, are alike devoted to destruction; the infants are frantic, and general misery prevails. The execution of these subjects is commonplace, and the engraver has not done justice to the originals. _April 29, 1809._ _Oh! you're a Devil. Get along, do!_ Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street, New Bond Street.--A dashing young officer, a gallant adventurer, probably crippled with debts, and with nothing but his commission to support his extravagances, is laying ardent siege to the ordinary person of a rich dowager, fat, _not_ fair, and decidedly forty; indeed, the lady is more than old enough to be the mother of her insidious admirer, who is probably looking forward to the possession of the foolish inamorata's fortune to 'whitewash' his liabilities, and exchange him from one slavery to another; preferring the fetters of Hymen to the captivity of a debtor's prison. The lady, a vain piece of antiquated and frivolous vulgarity, is loaded with massive jewellery, which her hopeful lover no doubt looks forward to melting for his own purposes, after he has staked the relict's money-bags on the gambling-table; her feathers are profuse, and she wears a boa of an extinct kind, famous in the annals of contemporary fashions, known as a _rattle-snake_.[10] _June 20, 1809._ _A Tit-bit for a Strong Stomach._ _July 31, 1809._ _The Huntsman Rising. The Gamester going to bed._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. (See 1811.) 1809. _Rowlandson's Caricatures upon the Delicate Investigation, or the Clarke Scandal_ (Mrs. Mary Anne Clarke and the Duke of York).--In order to make the caricatures, published by Rowlandson, on the Clarke scandal intelligible, it is desirable to recapitulate the circumstances, which are given in condensed form from the writer's 'Life of James Gillray the Caricaturist.'[11] [Illustration: OH! YOU'RE A DEVIL. GET ALONG, DO!] George the Third's darling son, the favourite Frederick, on whom he doted, and who was so popular out of doors that he was hailed as 'the soldier's friend'--a compliment which no soldier would be likely to utter concerning a commander who had not taken the right method to render himself the object of general affection--began to attract unenviable notoriety at the beginning of 1809. On January 27 Colonel Wardle charged the Duke with corrupt administration of the Half-Pay Fund, the sole control of this provision having been vested in the Commander-in-Chief. The produce of the fund arose from the sale of commissions fallen in by the death or dismissal of officers in the army, and amounts thus realised were applied to the purchase of commissions for meritorious officers, and other beneficial purposes. Colonel Wardle stated he should prove that the Duke of York had a mistress, Mrs. Clarke, living in great splendour in Gloucester Place, from 1803 to 1806. This lady had a scale of prices for the sale of commissions, and he would lay before the House Mrs. Clarke's prices and the Regulation prices. Mrs. Clarke's Regulation Prices. Prices. A Majority £900 £2,600 A Company 700 1,500 A Lieutenancy 400 550 An Ensigncy 200 400 Every sale effected by Mrs. Clarke was a loss to the Half-Pay Fund of the difference between her price and the Regulation price. He then made a statement of a list of sales effected by her, the sums paid, the names and ranks of the officers, a list of exchanges, &c. Her patronage, it was stated, extended also to ecclesiastics. He moved for a Committee of the whole House to investigate the subject. The motion was agreed to, and the witnesses were ordered to be summoned. On February 1, Mrs. Clarke stood at the bar of the House--a lovely Thaïs, eminently self-possessed, armed with ready wit, and with charms of person and address which dazzled the gravest members. She contrived to turn all questions put to her with the object of giving annoyance, or for her degradation, into the means of exposing the Duke of York, who, it appears, had withdrawn his 'protection,' stipulating to pay her an annuity of 400_l._ per annum, which had been suffered to fall into arrears, and her applications for payment had been met with threats of the 'pillory' and the 'Bastille.' Wilberforce, who, as we have seen, had been active in bringing forward the impeachment of Lord Melville, for corruption in his office, when at the Admiralty, as far as misappropriation of the Navy Fund was concerned; and Whitbread, who, as a leader of the Radical Reformers, was foremost in exposing state intrigues and corruptions at Court--were active in bringing forward and proving the case against the Commander-in-Chief. Wilberforce has made the following entry in his diary, touching the investigation before the Parliamentary Committee: 'This melancholy business will do irreparable mischief to public morals, by accustoming the public to hear without emotion shameless violations of decency. The House examining Mrs. Clarke for two hours, cross-examining her in the Old Bailey way, she, elegantly dressed, consummately impudent and very clever, got clearly the better of the tussle.' Two officers who endeavoured to shield their chief during the investigation by giving evidence contrary to the truth, were committed to Newgate for equivocation. After an examination which lasted some while, during which facts damaging to both sides were elicited, while Mrs. Clarke's allegations remained unshaken in the main, Colonel Wardle summed up the evidence, and concluded by moving 'that the Duke of York had been guilty of corrupt practices and connivance. He accordingly prayed for his dismissal from the command of the army.' Mr. Banks moved an amendment acquitting the Duke of York of personal corruption, but petitioning the King to remove him for gross irregularities and negligence. Mr. Percival moved and carried a resolution absolving the Duke of all personal corruption or criminal connivance. It was evident that the resignation of the Commander-in-Chief would alone stop further proceedings. Wilberforce and his party succeeded in forcing him to retire from the command of the army, and the inquiry was dropped. Sir David Dundas succeeded the Duke of York, and after holding the appointment for two years, resigned, and the Duke was reinstated. Mrs. Clarke was not appeased by the results of the parliamentary investigation, which had, in fact, effected nothing for her, and all for others. These disgraceful exposures would have been escaped if the Duke had paid her annuity. Her motives in the matter were of course entirely personal; the public were on her side, and she made the notoriety serve her purpose. She announced a _Memoir of her Life_, and of her transactions with the Duke of York, accompanied by a series of his letters; these latter would have been eagerly read, the fervid specimens which came out in the course of the investigation were republished, versified, and circulated in various forms, to the delight of the public. The consequences, and the ridicule apprehended from this exposure, effected the purpose which a mere regard for good faith could not accomplish: negotiations were opened for the suppression and destruction of these memoirs, which were said to be actually in print. An indemnity of 7,000_l._ is believed to have secured Mrs. Clarke's silence, and the annuity of 400_l._ was guaranteed her for life. This outline of the facts will be found substantially followed by the caricaturist's series, although the details differ in certain respects from over-colouring inseparable from satirical versions. Mrs. Clarke[12] stated that she had been under the protection of the Duke of York since the years 1802 or 1803, but her establishment in Gloucester Place did not commence till 1804; it consisted of two carriages, eight horses, nine men servants, &c., to defray the expenses of which the Duke allowed her 2,000_l._ per annum, to be paid monthly. That she had also a small establishment at Weybridge; the house belonged to His Royal Highness. That the sums she received from the Duke were barely adequate to pay the servants their wages and liveries; and when she informed him of it, he replied that 'if she were clever, she would not ask him for money.' That the applications for her interest in military promotions were very numerous; she mentioned them to His Royal Highness, who told her which were likely to be successful. At one period she had a long list of applicants, procured either by Captain Sandon or Mr. Donovan, which she gave his Royal Highness, who said he would procure the appointments by degrees; she stated to him at the same time the sums which she should receive for her interest in procuring them; that the appointment of Mr. Dowler to the Commissariat was through the influence of the Duke of York, who knew that she was to receive 1,000_l._ for it. That two applications were made through the medium of Mr. Donovan, for promotions in the Church, one for a deanery, the other a bishopric; and Dr. O'Meara, who expected one of them, applied to her for a letter of introduction to His Royal Highness. That the Duke was fully acquainted with the extent of her establishment as he visited her every day; paid some incidental debts which she had incurred; but, at the time of separation, had not made any advances of cash for three months, and, in consequence, left her involved more than 2,000_l._ in debt. She resided in Gloucester Place about three years. Mrs. Clarke also stated that she obtained for Major Shaw the appointment of Deputy Barrack-Master-General of the Cape of Good Hope, for which he was to pay her 1,000_l._; she, however, only received 500_l._, and, on complaining to His Royal Highness, he warned her to be more careful, and not to suffer herself to be duped again, adding that he would put Major Shaw on half-pay. Major Shaw sent her several letters in consequence, complaining of being put upon half-pay, but she paid no attention to them. Mrs. Clarke also stated that she had in her service as footman, a young man, named Samuel Carter; he lived with her about twelve months, and was in the habit of attending upon her when in company with the Duke of York. She at length obtained for him a commission in the 16th Foot, by applying to the Duke, who conversed with him on the occasion. At the time of the investigation he was a staff officer in the West Indies. Carter was recommended to her by Captain Sutton, and was indebted to her alone for his commission. It appeared from later disclosures that this Carter, who was by no means a person without education, was the natural son of the deceased Captain Sutton, a most meritorious officer, and a personal friend of the Prince's, and that his son's appointment was an act of well-deserved benevolence. Carter's age at the date of his appointment was, according to Mrs. Clarke's account, about eighteen, but on account of his short stature he looked a mere boy. Mrs. Clarke was asked whether she intended to abide by the statement of her having pinned up at the head of the bed a list of the friends whom she wished to be promoted, and which list the Duke of York took away? She answered affirmatively, and said that His Royal Highness took it down the second morning, drew up the curtain, and read it. She afterwards saw it in His Royal Highness's pocket-book, with scratches through several of the names of those who had been promoted. Miss Mary Ann Taylor, who was in the habit of visiting Mrs. Clarke, when she was under the Duke's protection, very frequently, stated that she heard the Duke of York speak to Mrs. Clarke about Colonel French's levy, and that what passed, as nearly as she could recollect, was as follows. 'I am continually worried by Colonel French. He worries me continually about the levy business, and is always wanting something more in his own favour.' Turning then to Mrs. Clarke (Miss T. thinks), he said, 'How does he behave to you, darling?' or some such kind words as he was wont to use. Mrs. Clarke replied, 'Middling; not very well;' on which the Duke said, 'Master French must mind what he is about, or I shall cut him up and his levy too!'[13] Large sums, it is certain, had been supplied by the Duke to his mistress--upwards of 5,000_l._ in notes, and in payments to tradesmen for wine, furniture, and a variety of articles, to the amount, in the whole, of between 16,000_l._ and 17,000_l._, and all within the space of little more than two years. The extent of Mrs. Clarke's debts was likewise to be considered.[14] _Mrs. Clarke's Memoirs._--Mrs. Clarke called on Sir Richard Phillips for the purpose of making some arrangement respecting the publication of her _Memoirs_; this offer was declined for several reasons of a private and political nature: the unqualified reproaches to which Sir Richard Phillips had lately been exposed had probably taught him some lessons of reserve, or at least he did not choose to expose himself to public notice as the publisher of a work which was likely to create much political interest, at least while the novelty of the thing lasted. Though this gentleman declined to become the purchaser of Mrs. Clarke's MS., he promised to recommend her to a publisher, who would treat her justly and liberally. At the same time, Sir Richard told Mrs. Clarke he conceived if she could obtain the arrears of her annuity from the Duke, and a legal settlement for the payment of it in future, together with the payment of all debts contracted during her late connection with His Royal Highness, it would better answer her purpose to suppress the publication altogether. To this reasonable proposition Mrs. Clarke consented; negotiations were opened with the Commander-in-Chief's advisers, and a projected plan of accommodation made known. This was followed by a string of propositions on the other side, which were drawn up, and assented to by Mrs. Clarke, and the famous threatened _Memoirs_ of this lady, 'written by herself,' were consigned to the flames on the premises of Mr. Gillet, the printer, of Salisbury Square. Eighteen thousand copies, with the perusal of which the country was to have been indulged, were actually destroyed, and the entire publication was effectually suppressed. Besides destroying the _Memoirs_ Mrs. Clarke gave up ninety private letters, containing, it is said, anecdotes of illustrious and noble personages, of the most curious description. _April 29._--'Mrs. Clarke's _Memoirs_ are said to have been suppressed, in consequence of her receiving 7,000_l._ down, and an annuity of 400_l._ for her own life, and an annuity of 200_l._ each for her respective daughters, with a promise that her son shall be provided for. The printer of the work has also received 500_l._ of the indemnification money.'[15] It is difficult to discriminate between the alleged motives of Colonel Wardle's action and his real object; public spirit was the mainspring which directed the mover of the investigation, if we may trust his own account, and for awhile the populace seems to have been of the same opinion, as addresses of thanks from various corporations acknowledged his patriotism. Somewhat later his disinterestedness began to be questioned; then the ugly evidence of the house at Westbourne Place was found difficult to argue away.[16] The absence of Major Dodd and Mr. Glennie at the action--where their presence was of the utmost importance--brought against the Colonel by one Wright, an upholsterer, to recover the expenses of furnishing this house, looked suspicious; the evidence was against the plaintiff, and Wardle was cast in the suit, and had to pay 2,000_l._ and costs. In the course of the trial it began to be hinted that the chief instigator of these proceedings was no less than a royal Duke, the brother of the Commander-in-Chief. It seems tolerably clear, on sifting the motives of the several actors and puppets in this matter, who had personally nothing to gain by the Duke's dismissal, and who were obviously, with one or two exceptions, corrupt agents in the first instance by their own confessions, and therefore likely to be actuated by no higher principles in the proceedings at issue, that they were (involuntarily in some cases) exposing their own misdeeds to forward the purpose of a greater personage, who did not appear, but to whose influence and purse they looked for their reward. Mrs. Clarke was, as everyone recognised, acting from the common impulse of personal aggrandisement, and she frankly acknowledged her principles. The year following the investigation, and the destruction of her _Memoirs_, she thought proper to revenge the want of faith which, according to her account, had characterised the proceedings of the 'conspirators' in her own case, by exposing the true intentions of the Duke's assailants; her motives, as she admitted, were in this second exposure prompted by the same interested spirit which had actuated the previous prosecution of her late friend and protector. According to her account Colonel Wardle was simply a tool in the hands of the Duke of Kent; his allies were Major Dodd and Mr. Glennie, the former being the Duke of Kent's secretary--who engaged himself without scruple to forward the projects of his employer. According to all accounts Colonel Wardle had bribed the assistance of an ambitious woman who fancied herself aggrieved, and who was, above all, amenable to sordid incentives: the Duke had left her in debt, had broken his word in more than one instance, and had used threats of the pillory and the Bastille in reply to her applications; she was tired of living in obscure retirement, and was irritated by the menaces of creditors, whose demands she had no means of satisfying. The chief temptation held out to her was, however, a promise that she should once more enjoy that command of ease, and power of shining in the world of fashion, which had been Mrs. Clarke's weakness through life. The arrears she claimed were to be made up, her debts were to be paid, the allowance she sought from the Duke of York (400_l_. per annum), was to be doubled by his brother; she was to have a carriage and four, with a residence and state in proportion; and she was to exercise her own taste in furnishing a house with the elegance and splendour which had marked her late establishment at Gloucester Place. To do the lady justice, she hesitated before inflicting the grave injuries which must attend the public exposure of her whilom benefactor, although she was by no means habitually given to sentimentality. She wrote to the Commander-in-Chief, asked for the allowance which, as she avowed, she had done nothing to forfeit, and at the same time mentioned the overtures which two factions were making her: one party for political purposes--the Radical Reformers to wit, headed by Sir Francis Burdett (who she declared had proposed to treat for the papers and letters in her possession, some sixty of which, as she informed the Duke, were in his own handwriting); the other influence brought to bear on her was of a more subtle and covert description, and she went so far as to indicate the disastrous consequences to himself which would inevitably follow if she lent herself to the schemes of his personal antagonists. The Duke of York remained obdurate, and thus played into the hands of his personal and political enemies. Colonel Wardle seized the opportunity. He gave Mrs. Clarke 100_l_. for present necessities, to induce reliance in those liberal promises which were later repudiated. The lady's natural sagacity, and her experience of life, furnished her with strategic abilities almost equal to the combined talents of the respective factions between which she found herself; and on the strength of the assistance which she finally consented to afford to Colonel Wardle and his supporters through Major Dodd--who, though less seen, was the more active agent in organising the attack on the Commander-in-Chief--she secured the house in Westbourne Place as an earnest of the benefits she was to receive hereafter, and succeeded in making Colonel Wardle become security for the furniture. In her disappointment it must have proved at least somewhat of a consolation to have out-manoeuvred the Colonel; who, for his reward, reaped in the end the obloquy attending exposure and ridicule instead of the glorification which at first appeared likely to crown his exertions. Thus the combination was successfully set in motion, and, in spite of all its discordant elements, compelled to work with something like consistent unison, or its individual members were left to take the consequences of any attempted retrogression, as in the instances of Captain Sandon (Mrs. Clarke's ally), on the one hand, and General Clavering,[17] whose sympathies were with his chief, on the other. The opponents of the Duke of York were thus prepared to open the campaign in the manner we have seen. In 1810 Mrs. Clarke took up her pen to endeavour to prove that the Duke of York's fall was actually brought about by the successful ingenuity and masterly tactics of his brother the Duke of Kent. In a pamphlet entitled _The Rival Princes_ she argued there was feud between the two Dukes, a fact which was sufficiently accepted out of doors, before the appearance of her publication, and that of the refutation which followed it under the title of _The Rival Dukes_. It will be remembered that early in 1802 the Duke of Kent obtained the governorship of Gibraltar, and that when possessed of the supreme command he determined to introduce all the rigour of German discipline, in accordance with the school in which he had received his military education. His efforts to remodel the existing regulations, and to substitute a system of severer subordination and rigid restraint, were not attended with auspicious results; on the contrary, a mutiny took place, December 24, 1803, in which, it is said, the Governor's life was actually aimed at. On this occasion several officers distinguished themselves by their zeal and activity; while the timely arrival of a detachment of artillery under Captain Dodd, not only endeared that officer to his royal highness through the remainder of his life, but contributed not a little to restore order in the garrison. The Duke of Kent was soon after recalled, and although he requested that the Commander-in-Chief should hold a court-martial on his conduct, the Duke of York declined to sanction the proceedings--Mrs. Clarke alleged out of fraternal kindness, as he declared to her, that if he had acceded to his brother's wishes, the Duke of Kent would certainly have been dismissed, which would have resulted in the loss of his emoluments, and this would have occasioned a reduction of some 2,000_l._ per annum in his income, at a time too when he was in sufficiently straitened circumstances. From the date of his return his royal highness remained unemployed, and all efforts to obtain a restoration to his governorship, or attain any command in the army, proved unavailing, although he had received the baton of a field-marshal in 1805. Between the Commander-in-Chief and his brother a jealousy had for some time subsisted, and Mrs. Clarke did not hesitate to state that the intrigue to which she had been induced to lend herself as the most conspicuous figure, was prompted by a desire on the part of the principal agitator--who remained discreetly in the background--to humiliate the Duke of York, in the expectation that the office of Commander-in-Chief, vacated by his brother's dismissal, would descend on himself in the natural order of things: an expectation which was not realised. One wild surmise attributed to 'the party' the belief that the Duke of York, smarting under his disgrace, would commit suicide, and thus afford the Duke of Kent a chance of being appointed his successor, as in the event of his brother's decease, there seems little doubt that the Duke of Kent, in spite of certain prejudices against which he struggled through his prematurely closed life, would have filled the office, almost by family right. The character of the Duke of Kent has been dispassionately reviewed since that date, and the calumnies of his detractors disallowed; beyond a natural leaning to discipline pushed to severity, through the fruits of his training, it is clear that his disposition was remarkably free from the guilty personal weaknesses which marked his age, and from those unrestrained self-indulgences which disfigured many of the brightest luminaries of the last century in nearly every phase of society. It will perhaps be interesting, after having thus attempted to trace the involutions of this complicated and scandalous intrigue, which, however, belongs to history, to add a word on the ultimate careers of the principal actors. Mrs. Clarke chiefly spent her later years in Paris, where it is understood she died, leaving a fortune amounting to some thousands of pounds. It is a redeeming point in her character, that when a certain nobleman (best known by the fictitious title of the 'Marquis of Steyne,' under which he figures in a famous novel, perhaps the finest in the world), presuming on the reputation of the mother, made princely overtures, with the object of converting one of her daughters--who, we are informed, were unusually handsome young ladies--into his mistress, the proposal was treated with the indignation its nature merited. Mr. Clarke, who was by no means the sinner, according to another account which has reached us, that his detractors have painted, became for a time, as we learn, a Brother of the Charter House. He lived to a very venerable age; and he, too, from the circumstances of his family, was able to leave some property at his decease. The majority of caricatures published by Rowlandson in 1809 relate, as we have already said, to the Clarke Scandal. The exposures which attended this connection, and the action taken by the members of the Opposition in consequence of the disclosures of abuses of influence which came out in course of the investigation, occasioned the Duke of York to resign his office as head of the army, a temporary concession rendered unavoidable, it appeared, under the circumstances. The satirical prints put forth to hold up to ridicule the various compromising revelations which marked the progress of the Parliamentary examination of witnesses formed a series by themselves. Thomas Tegg who issued the greater part of these plates, thought proper to bring out a frontispiece or title-page to the collection, which our artist etched, for the purpose, on March 27, 1809. The design of this introductory print is arranged as a screen, on which is the lettering: '_Tegg's complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of York before the House of Commons,_ 1809--' OUT OF EVIL COMETH GOOD-- Learn to be wise from others' harm, And thou shalt do full well. On the ground is a book open at the Commandment, 'Thou shalt not commit adultery,' and beside lie the Duke's letters to his lady-love, beginning, 'My darling, dearest dear,' &c. Mrs. Clarke and Colonel Wardle, the pair made most conspicuous during the enquiry, are standing on pedestals, placed at either extremity, and drawing back the curtains. The mitre and crozier of the Duke, as Prince Bishop of Osnaburgh, crossed by his long sword and the military cocked-hat appertaining to his official position, as Commander-in-Chief of the army, form an appropriate trophy, arranged above the proscenium. _February 15, 1809._ _Dissolution of Partnership, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts._ Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.--Above the heads of the principal performers in this scene is engraved the well-known quotation from Gay's 'Beggar's Opera':-- 'Tis woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first are taught the wheedling arts; Her very eyes can cheat when most she's kind. She tricks us of our money with our hearts: For her, like wolves, by night we rove for prey, And practise every fraud to bribe her charms; For suits of love, like law, are won by pay, And beauty must be fee'd into our arms. Mrs. Clarke is seated on a 'rickety chair,' with a 'Morocco bottom;' at her feet are the tender epistles of her admirer: 'My love, my life, I cannot exist without you;' 'My admirable angel;' 'My dear pretty little darling,' &c.; the lady is holding her lap for a bag of gold (800_l._) which a stout old party is handing her in exchange for her good offices, relative to the promotion of a scarecrow in military uniform, probably his son, seated in an 'easy chair,' with a paper at his feet inscribed likewise from Gay's 'Newgate Pastoral':-- 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, Each cries, 'That was levelled at me!' Mrs. Clarke's boudoir is indicated behind; the portrait of 'Frederick' is hanging therein, and below it is pinned a 'list of candidates for promotion. Sums offered. Clavering 2,000_l._; Dowling, 800_l._; O'Meara, 300_l._' &c. Everything is apparently conducted on a business-like footing. 'Mrs. Clarke's Ledger' is placed ready to hand, and upon it is a long file of receipts, 'commissions paid for.' _February 20, 1809._ _Mrs. Clarke's Levee._ A pair of subjects on one plate. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.--The interest of this frail dispenser of patronage was not confined to the army, it was extended to the Church. In the course of the disclosures it was shown that a certain Doctor O'Meara had secured, through her offices, and for a consideration, the privilege of preaching before Royalty--an equivocal road to preferment, on the nature of which the caricaturists were especially playful, as succeeding prints will elucidate. Mrs. Clarke is seen, standing in semi-royal state, under a canopy, and holding a levee of interested applicants: military officers, of various grades, are bowing before the fair patroness; a Church dignitary, openly provided with the needful (800_l._ in a money-bag), and 'cits' who are willing to treat for the advantage of having their sons converted into officers and gentlemen. Mrs. Clarke is candidly rehearsing the terms on which business may be transacted at her establishment; the conditions are sufficiently plausible:-- Ye Captains and ye Colonels--ye Parsons wanting place, Advice I'll give you gratis, and think upon your case. If there is possibility for you I'll raise the dust; But then you must excuse me--if I serve myself the first. _February 20, 1809._ _The Ambassador of Morocco on a Special Embassy._--In such delicate transactions as Mrs. Clarke carried on at Gloucester Place, where the Duke had set up an elegant establishment for her use, the intermediary of third parties was essential. Among the accommodating persons whose names were brought to light in the course of the proceedings, as acting in the capacity of 'go-betweens,' was a certain 'Emperor of Morocco,' as he was styled in the correspondence, but who, in sober reality, was a ladies' shoemaker, one Taylor, of Bond Street. The print represents this mysterious plenipotentiary, with private correspondence in his hand, hurrying up to Mrs. Clarke's handsomely furnished mansion; the lady, who is at the open window on the look-out for her envoy, is crying, 'Open the door, John; here comes the Ambassador. Now for the dear delightful answer.' John Bull, with his dog by his side, who has apparently formed a suspicion of the Emperor's errand, is enquiring, 'I say, Master Shoemaker, where be you going in such a woundy hurry?' To which the bustling confidential agent replies, 'Don't speak to me, fellow; you should never pry into State affairs.' _February 24, 1809._ _Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place, or a Kept Mistress in High Feather._ Published by T. Tegg.--'Money was expended upon her footmen, chariots, musicians, singers, players, dancers, parasites, pimps, and bawds. But in the end the money of the people.'--_Vide_ Cobbett, _Annual Register_. A scene of coarse and indiscriminate revelry is represented proceeding in Mrs. Clarke's drawing-room; a round table is covered with wines, spirits, punchbowls, and, among the rich dessert dishes, is a gigantic golden bowl, the thankoffering of a Bishop. The diversions of the company assembled have passed the bounds of innocent recreation; fiddlers and singers are rolling on the floor, wine and punch are recklessly thrown about the place, and altogether the spectacle is not of an improving character. A troop of flunkeys, in expensive liveries, are helping themselves from the decanters and laughing at the tipsy antics of the company. _February 26, 1809._ _All for Love. A Scene at Weymouth._--The Duke's most affectionate epistles were dated from Weymouth, and the caricaturist has drawn the stout commander seated at table there, pen in hand, filled with rapture at the prospect of returning to his Delilah: 'To-morrow I inspect my regiment, and then for my dearest, dearest, dearest love!' Unfinished love-letters are scattered around: 'Oh, love is the cause of my folly!' 'My amiable girl!' 'My dearest dear, I hope to be in your arms,' &c. The Duke's black footboy, who is standing staring in amazement at the rhapsodising hero his master, is inclined to moralise over the Duke's follies: 'Bless my massa! what be the matter with him? Him in love, I fear. Sambo once be in love with bad woman, but him repent!' On the same plate is a second subject, entitled-- _February 26, 1809._ _An Unexpected Meeting._--An elderly officer is amazed at running across the figure of Mrs. Clarke's footboy, strutting in his uniform as bold as the best. 'Can I believe my eyes? Why, this is the little footboy who waited on us at the house of a lady of a certain description!' The promoted favourite is highly indignant at this allusion to the past: 'I beg, sir, you will not come for to go to affront a gemman!' _February 26, 1809._ _The Bishop and his Clarke._ Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.--The reverend Bishop of Osnabrück has laid aside his crozier and mitre and assumed the nightcap of domestic retirement. By his side is the notorious Clarke, who is reminding her companion of certain promises: 'Only remember the promotions I mentioned; I have pinned up the _list_ at the head of the bed.' To which the Duke of York is tenderly responding, 'Ask anything in reason, and you shall have it, my dearest love!' The list of promotions includes 'A Bishopric for Dr. O'Leary,' 'A Commissariat for Dicky Dowlas,' and other items, down to a post for the lady's footboy. It was stated by Mrs. Clarke, during the proceedings, that the Duke had assured her 'that as his favourite she had far more influence than the Oueen.' _February 27, 1809._ _A Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place, or the Bishop in an Ecstasy._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Duke of York, arrayed in his canonicals as Prince Bishop of Osnabrück, has turned his back on his mansion and on his wife; he has travelled a long stride upon the 'road to destruction' and passed the 'stumbling-block' on his path. He is trampling under foot 'Thoughts on Connubial Happiness' and the Commandments, and is just turning the corner of Gloucester Place, saying, 'Now for a meeting with my dearest dear.' Mrs. Clarke and a female friend are looking out of window, and signalling the Duke's arrival. Various placards are pasted on the house of his mistress: 'To all.--Journeymen Taylors wanted,' 'Man traps are placed every night on these premises,' 'Diamonds by Mrs. Clarke, Lapidary to His Highness;' 'Agency Office; business transacted on moderate terms;' 'This evening will be performed "Duke and no Duke," by His Majesty's servants,' &c. _February 29, 1809._ _The York_[18] _Magician Transforming a Footboy into a Captain._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Commander-in-Chief has assumed the white beard, fur cap, and robes of a magician; he is waving a magic wand, 'Petticoat Influence,' over Mrs. Clarke's late footboy, who is rising transformed into a captain, and filled with astonishment at the rapidity of the performance. The Duke is made to say, 'By the mystery of my art, no more be a footboy, but rise a captain!' _March 2, 1809._ _A Parliamentary Toast._ Published by T. Tegg.--A company, consisting principally of army officers, have been dining; the wine is on the table. 'Come, Jack, favour with a toast.' The chairman is standing on his legs to do honour to his toast: 'Here is the lady that can raise five hundred!' Another gallant gentleman is anxiously enquiring of his neighbour, 'How much did you give to be gazetted?' The answer, given with a disconsolate air, is, 'Five hundred hard cash!' A listener is remarking, 'I did not think it would have been done up so soon. I had promised at least a dozen promotions!' _March 4, 1809._ _Chelsea Parade, or a Croaking Member Surveying the Inside, Outside, and Backside of Mrs. Clarke's Premises._ Published by T. Tegg.--The front door of Mrs. Clarke's establishment, 'Warren Street.' The door is inscribed, 'Knock, and you shall enter.' A notice-board, hung out sign-fashion, bears the quotation: 'All the world's a stage, and men and women merely players. Some play the upper, some the under part, but chief play that most foreign to their heart.' Colonel Wardle, wrapped in his military cloak, and indicating discretion, with his finger on his lips, is handing a bag of money to a waiting-maid and saying, 'You understand me,' to which the favourite is replying with an assurance 'that the Colonel's business shall be attended to.' Mrs. Clarke, leaning out of window, is overlooking her visitor and crying, 'Though not in love, enter quick, my guardian angel, my sweet Widdle-Waddle.' Mr. Croker, ensconced in 'Prospect Place,' opposite, as the 'croaking member,' spyglass in hand, is surveying the position of affairs from an attic marked, 'Peeping Tom's Observatory;' he is exclaiming, 'Oh, the devil choke her! he's Waddling in, as I'm a prying Croaker.' A discomfited group of ex-favourites are hurrying off as quickly as possible. The Duke of York, with mitre and crozier, a cope worn over his uniform, and bearing a label on his stole: 'Men have their entrances and their exits,' cries, 'To part with my dear, and not allow four hundred a year.' His lawyer, Adam, by his side, cries, 'Alas, alas! all flesh is grass--so said Adam, my forefather;' and Doctor O'Meara, bringing up the rear, in great tribulation, is moaning, 'O me, Leary! O me, Leary! who once made Royalty melt into tears--am now become a sniveller.' _March 5, 1809._ _The Road to Preferment--through Clarke's Passage._ Published by T. Tegg.--Mrs. Clarke, wearing a general's uniform above her skirts, is standing at the entrance to a wide thoroughfare, marked 'Clarke's Passage.' There is a stampede to gain admission--officers, dandies, old fogeys, parsons with money-bags, fathers and sons--the halt and the lame, the gouty and disabled, are all flocking in crowds, ready to pay for the accommodation,--but in vain. The arbitress of promotions and easy advancements is declaring, 'Gentlemen, it is no use to rush on in this manner; the principal places have been disposed of these three weeks; and I assure you at present there is not even standing room.' _March 5, 1809._ _The York March._ Published by T. Tegg.--The stout Duke of York has turned his sturdy back on his fair enslaver, declaring, 'If I must march, I must; however, I shall leave my Baggage behind me!' The principal cause of the exposure may be laid to the Duke's account. He declined, as has been mentioned, to keep his word in respect to an allowance of four hundred a year, which, there appears no doubt, he had promised to make the lady, if her conduct, after his desertion, was such as to merit his approval. Mrs. Clarke, who is dressed precisely as she appeared at the bar of the House of Commons,[19] is thus reproaching the York deserter: 'O you gay deceiver, to leave a poor woman without _protection_!' The storm which was raised during the enquiry into the abuses of privilege in the administration of the army and Half-Pay Fund, and threatened to deprive the Duke of his office as Commander-in-Chief, only hardened his resolution to do nothing for this Ariadne, who, however, to do her justice, showed herself well able to defend her own interests, and to pay back her defamers in their own coin. [Illustration: THE YORK MARCH.] _March 7, 1809._ _The Triumvirate of Gloucester Place, or the Clarke, the Soldier, and the Taylor._ Published by T. Tegg. John Gilpin said, 'Of womankind I only love but one, And thou art she, my dearest dear; Therefore it shall be done.'--_Vide_ 'John Gilpin.' --The Duke of York is seated at table, on which is wine and dessert, placed between Mrs. Mary Ann Clarke and her friend and _confidante_, Miss Taylor. The Duke's favourite is holding out her 'List of Promotions,' entered upon a tremendous roll of papers, which seems to be endless. 'I have a small list of promotions which I wish to be filled up immediately, my dearest!' To which modest request this weak-minded Samson is readily giving his assent: 'It shall be done, my darling!' _March 8, 1809._ _A Scene from the Tragedy of 'Cato.'_ Published by T. Tegg.--Two Britons are meeting, wearing the most solemn aspect, indicating occurrences of portentous gravity. One of the pair is a cobbler, above whose stall is the figure of an anchor and the words, 'Hope--Insurance Office.' His friend is reciting with terrific intensity these lines:-- The dawn is overcast--the morning lours, And heavily in clouds brings in the day-- Big with the fate of York and Mrs. Clarke. _March 8, 1809._ _Yorkshire Hieroglyphics._ Plate 1. Published by T. Tegg.--The hieroglyphics are not very difficult to decipher, and when transcribed prove nothing more than a compromising letter, which was produced in the House of Commons, incautiously sent by the amorous Commander-in-Chief to his lady-love five years previously:-- _The Duke of York's first letter to Mrs. Clarke._ 'Weymouth, August 4, 1804. 'My dear little Angel,--How can I sufficiently express to my sweetest, my darling love, the delight which her dear, her pretty letter gave me, or how do justice to the emotion it excited? Millions and millions of thanks for it, my angel, and be assured that my heart is wholly sensible of your affection, and that upon it alone its whole happiness depends. 'I am, however, quite hurt that my love did not go to the Lewes Races; how kind of her to think of me on that occasion! but I trust she knows me too well not to be convinced that I cannot bear the idea of adding to those sacrifices which I am but too sensible that she has made to me. 'News my angel cannot expect from me from hence; though the life led here, at least in the family I am in, is very hurrying, there is a sameness in it which affords little subject for a letter; except Lord Chesterfield's family, there is not a single person besides ourselves I know. Last night we were at the play, which went off better than the first night. 'Dr. O'Meara called upon me yesterday morning, and delivered me your letter; he wishes much to preach before Royalty, and if I can put him in the way of it I will. 'What a time it appears to me already, my darling, since we parted; how impatiently I look forward to next Wednesday se'night! 'God bless you, my own dear, dear love! I shall miss the post if I add more! Oh, believe me ever, to my last hour, yours and yours alone.' [Addressed 'Mrs. Clarke, to be left at the Post Office, Worthing.' Endorsed 'Dr. O'Meara.'] _March 9, 1809._ _The Burning Shame._--The residence of Mrs. Clarke, at the corner of Gloucester Place, is made conspicuous to the public by a notification at one time practised in respect to disreputable vicinities. A man is planted before the door holding a notice-board, warning the passers-by to 'beware of bad houses and naughty women;' a couple of watchmen, with their lanterns slung on the ends of long poles, are throwing a good light on the nature of the case. A clergyman and an officer, who were evidently coming direct to the establishment on private ends, are, by this publicity, warned out of danger before their intention is disclosed to the public. _March 11, 1809._ _Yorkshire Hieroglyphics._ Plate 2. Published by T. Tegg. 'Sandgate, August 24, 1804. 'How can I sufficiently express to my darling love my thanks for her dear, dear letter, or the delight which the assurances of her love give me! 'Oh! my angel! do me justice, and be convinced that there never was a woman adored as you are. Every day, every hour convinces me, more and more, that my whole happiness depends upon you alone. What a time it appears to be since we parted, and with what impatience do I look forward to the day after to-morrow; there are still, however, two whole nights before I clasp my darling in my arms. 'How happy am I to learn that you are better; I still, however, will not give up my hopes of the cause of your feeling uncomfortable. 'Clavering is mistaken, my angel, in thinking that any new regiments are to be raised; it is not intended, only second battalions to the existing corps; you had better, therefore, tell him so, and that you were sure that there would be no use in applying for him. 'Ten thousand thanks, my love, for the handkerchiefs, which are delightful; and I need not, I trust, assure you of the pleasure I feel in wearing them, and thinking of the dear hands which made them for me. 'Nothing could be more satisfactory than the tour I have made, and the state in which I have found everything. The whole of the day before yesterday was employed in visiting the works at Dover, reviewing the troops there, and examining the coast as far as this place. From Folkestone I had a very good view of those of the French Camp. 'Yesterday I first reviewed the Camp here, and afterwards the 14th Light Dragoons, who are certainly in very fine order; and from thence proceeded to Brabourne Lees, to see four regiments of Militia; which altogether took me up near thirteen hours. 'I am now setting off immediately to ride along the coast to Hastings, reviewing the different corps as I pass, which will take me at least as long. 'Adieu, therefore, my sweetest and dearest love, till the day after to-morrow, and be assured that to my last hour I shall ever remain your's and your's alone.' [Addressed 'George Farquhar, Esq., 18 Gloucester Place, Portman Square.' Folkestone, endorsed 'Gen. Clavering,' &c.] _March 12, 1809._ _The Statue to be Disposed of._ Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.--Mrs. Clarke's house at the corner of Gloucester Place is again the subject of caricature. The figure of the Duke of York, in his uniform, with his back to the spectator, and his face to the wall, is placed on a pedestal for disposal. A placard, posted on the house, announces: 'The statue on the outside having been thoroughly repaired and whitewashed, is to be sold by private contract. For further particulars enquire within.' A bill-poster is sticking up the following notice on behalf of the publisher: 'Caricature Warehouse, 111 Cheapside. A new caricature on Mrs. Clarke every day.' _March 13, 1809._ _A General Discharge, or the Darling Angel's Finishing Stroke._ Published by T. Tegg.--Mrs. Clarke has been making pretty havoc among the branches of the service. She has drummed out a number of officers to the tune of the 'Rogue's March;' discomfited generals and prelates, who, since their intrigues are unmasked, are doing their best to get out of range. As to the 'Darling Angel's' redoubtable opponent, the Commander-in-Chief, he has laid down his cocked-hat and sword, and, on his knees, is trying to mitigate the excess of mischief which his discarded lady-love is in a position to wreak; he is crying in despair: 'Alas, alas! for ever ruined and undone; see, see, she has spiked my Great Gun!' Mrs. Clarke, who is putting the finishing stroke to this destructive operation, is offering a parting word of gratuitous advice to the now repentant Commander: 'A wise general should make good his retreat.' _March 15, 1809._ _The Champion of Oakhampton Attacking the Hydra of Gloucester Place._ '_Bellua Multorum es Capitum._' Vide _Horace_. The Champion is clad in a complete suit of mail, and he is valorously rushing up to the mouth of the cavern, whence the Hydra is breaking forth; it must be confessed that the Champion seems a little staggered at the front displayed by the many-headed monster; the foremost and most overgrown head is that of the Commander-in-Chief, begirt with the _Collar of Corruption_. The other heads are described by their collars: Dowler, Sandon, Dr. O'Meara, Dr. Donovan, Mrs. Clarke, and Master Carter. _March 17, 1809._ _The Parson and the Clarke._ Published by T. Tegg.--Dr. O'Meara is favoured with a private interview, of a strictly business-like character, by Mrs. Clarke. The ambitious divine is throwing up his head in such raptures that he has jerked off his learned wig: 'Oh how I should like to preach before Royalty!' The fair dispenser of patronage, with a long roll of 'Army preferments' and a shorter list of 'Church preferments' before her, is putting the case in a matter-of-fact way: 'Only pay the Clarke's fees, and the business is done.' So great on the Church were O'Meara's designs That he prov'd too ambitious a spark; But where is the wonder, ye learned divines, That the _parson_ should follow the _Clarke_? _March 19, 1809._ _Samson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Duke of York is following the example of the famous slayer of Philistines. He is sunk in slumber, with his head on the lap of his treacherous Delilah; a pile of love-letters, addressed to his 'dearest dear,' are sufficiently indicative of his infatuation. Mrs. Clarke, who is represented in the print as a by no means repulsive-looking temptress, has taken advantage of the hero's unconsciousness to chop off his full pigtail, and she is holding up the severed caudal appendage, as an encouragement to the enemies of the helpless Commander-in-Chief to take advantage of their opportunity: 'Gentlemen, you may now take him with safety, his strength is gone; I have cut off his regulation tail, and there is no danger!' _March 24, 1809._ _The Resignation, or John Bull overwhelmed with Grief._ Published by T. Tegg.--The departing Commander-in-Chief, in his regimentals, as he is invariably represented, is trying to harrow John Bull's sympathies before he deprives him of his valuable services: 'Good bye, Johnny; I am going to resign; but don't take it so much to heart; perhaps I may very soon come back again!'[20] The good-natured national prototype is keeping up a show of affliction under the approaching bereavement; but, although he is concealing his face with his handkerchief, a smile lurks round the corner of his mouth as he sobs out somewhat equivocally in reply: 'O dunna, dunna go! it will break my heart to part with you--you be such a desperate moral character!' _March 24, 1809._ _The Prodigal Son's Resignation._--The stout sinner is humbling himself before the throne. A portion of the King's figure is concealed; the Duke of York has laid his _Resignation_, together with his coat, sword, and cocked-hat, at the paternal feet, and, kneeling in his denuded state, he is quoting the words of the parable of the Prodigal Son: 'Father, I have sinned before thee, and I am no longer worthy to be called thy son.' The monarch, who seems deeply affected by the spectacle of his favourite son's abasement, is returning: 'Very naughty boy! very naughty boy indeed! However, I forgive you; but don't do so any more.' _March 29, 1809._ _Mrs. Clarke's Last Effort._ Published by T. Tegg.--The delicate investigation being concluded, the fair mover, Mrs. Clarke, was, as the satirists suggested, left without occupation; and Rowlandson has accordingly represented that she might employ her talents to advantage in opening an inn a little way out of town; she is pictured as the landlady of _Clarke & Co's Original Tavern, from the York Hotel, London_. Members of the Army, the Church, a Quaker, and others are hurrying up to extend their patronage to the new establishment. Mrs. Clarke, bent on hospitable intents, is encouraging her old friends to return and rally round: 'Come forward, gentlemen; you'll all be welcome. Every little helps':-- Your rhino rattle--come-- Men and cattle--come-- All to Mrs. Clarke O Of trouble and monies I'll ease you, my Honies, And leave you in the dark O. _March 30, 1809._ _The York Dilly, or the Triumph of Innocence._ Published by T. Tegg.--A coach full of learned gentlemen, driven by a Counsel in his robes, is passing through an enthusiastic crowd; the charioteer is declaring: 'I thought we should bring him through.' The Duke of York is in the boot, apparently, 'blowing his own trumpet;' a placard, wreathed in laurel, is on the roof of the carriage, announcing, _Acquitted_. _Glorious majority of 82._ The people are uproariously demonstrative; they are shouting: 'Huzza! glorious news for Old England!' females are encouraging their husbands to cheer; the figure of Mrs. Clarke is represented bursting through the multitude and shaking her fists at her late 'protector,' while a stout Churchman by her side is loyally protesting, 'I always said he was innocent!' _April 1, 1809._ _Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family, after Preaching before Royalty_. Published by T. Tegg.--The reverend divine has returned home to his comely spouse and family in such an elated frame of mind--skipping about, to the derangement of his ecclesiastic dignity, and losing his wig and hat--that his wife is enquiring: 'Why, my dear, you are quite frantic; what is the matter with you?' The Doctor is replying, in ecstasy, jumping higher than ever: 'Frantic?--I believe I am--I have been preaching before Royalty--our fortunes are made--such a sermon--neat text--quarter of an hour's discourse--appropriate prayer at the conclusion--Oh! to see them cry it would have melted a heart of stone--Oh bless that Mrs. Clarke; I shall never forget her!' _April 1, 1809._ _Mrs. Clarke's Farewell to her Audience. Tailpiece._ Published by T. Tegg.--All the principal performers--generals, colonels, captains, reverend doctors, Master Carter, &c.--who have figured in the 'Clarke Scandal,' and throughout the series of satirical prints which Rowlandson designed on the _Delicate Enquiry_, are drawn up on the stage, in proper theatrical fashion, to acknowledge the gratifying reception accorded their exertions at the hands of an appreciative public. The national prototype, as the paying patron of the performance, is in the stage box, clapping his hands with enthusiasm, and shouting, 'Bravo, bravo!' Mrs. Clarke, as the leading actress, is standing in front of the line of players, dressed in semi-martial fashion, with a military hat on her head, epaulettes, a gorget, a laced coat, and a crimson sash. She is speaking the farewell address, which is as follows:--'Ladies and Gentlemen,--Having done our duty as far as we were called upon, we most humbly take our leave of a generous audience; not, like the generality of actors, wishing for a repetition of the performance, but, on the contrary, that it may never again be repeated. As to our friend Mr. Tegg, we hope that the graphic illustrations of this drama, which he and his performers have brought forward, may meet with that encouragement which is never denied to the effusions of whim and humour by a loyal and liberal British public; but I particularly request that, while you acquit the Bishop, you will be merciful to his Clarke.' _April 4, 1809._ _Original Plan for a Popular Monument, to be erected in Gloucester Place._ Published by T. Tegg.--The contributaries to this monument of turpitude are grouped together to form a memorial suited to the occasion. The foundation-stone is a huge block, labelled 'York Folly,' supported on one side by the Episcopal mitre and crozier of the Right Rev. Bishop of Osnabrück, with a scroll of 'The New Morality.' The accessories on the other side are the cocked-hat, sword, and tender love-letters of the ex-Commander-in-Chief. A block of 'Cracked Portland Stone,' and a third slab of 'Folkestone of the first quality,' refer to the agitations raised by the Duke of Portland and Lord Folkestone; the more spirited elements are ranged above this foundation, in the form of a barrel of 'Whitbread's Entire,' 'Burdett's Stingo,' and 'Wardle's British Spirit,' these gentlemen having been the most active in enforcing the Duke's resignation. 'Romilly Freestone' supports a pair of medallions representing the two officers consigned to Newgate for prevarication--'Sandon' and 'Clavering's Dumps.' _Mrs. Clarke's Pyramid_, a golden cone, caps the edifice reared on corruption. _April 5, 1809._ _A York Address to the Whale Caught lately off Gravesend._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Duke of York, in his regimentals, has gone down on his knees to the latest wonder of the hour, and is beseeching the popular arrival to divert the minds of an excitement-loving public from his own particular case: 'O mighty monster of the deep, continue to attract the attention of John Bull, bend his mind solely towards thee, for in that is my only hope; fascinated by thy powerful attractions, he may perhaps forget the honour of a Prince.' _April 10, 1809._ _The Flower of the City._--The figure of Alderman Flower is represented in the centre of a huge sunflower blowing on a stem, 'Weak Stock,' planted in a pot of 'Rank Butter,' and elevated on two cheeses, marked 'Mouldy and Rotten.' A sinister blast from a diabolical agent is withering the plant, and the leaves are falling; they are labelled with various uncomplimentary sentences, suggesting all kinds of vices, belonging to the parent shoot. Below this unflattering tribute to the Alderman is inscribed the following parody of verses:-- The Flow'r of the City, so gaudy and fine, 'Midst proud ones the proudest, was erst known to shine. It spread its gay leaves and it show'd its rich clothes, And to all (less in consequence) turn'd up its nose! Till a blight, a sad blight, from a Democrat wind Struck the sensitive plant, both before and behind. It felt the keen blast! All its arrogance fled, And the Flow'r of the City hung, hung down its head. The Flow'r of the City, thus doom'd to despair, Droops, pines, and with wailing impregnates the air! Tells its pride and its folly (the cause of its grief), While the tears of repentance encumber each leaf! But vain are its tears, or the fate it bemoans, The world, the base world, gives but hisses and groans! For ever! for ever! its proud hopes are fled, And the Flow'r of the City hangs, hangs down its head. _April 10, 1809._ _The Modern Babel, or Giants Crushed by a Weight of Evidence._ Published by T. Tegg.--The unfortunate Duke of York, with his Counsel and learned supporters, are crushed down under the weight of a compound structure which has been imposed upon their heads and shoulders. The bulkiest mass is the _Evidence of Mrs. Clarke_; _Miss Taylor's Evidence_ is next in consequence, and the pyramidal slabs decrease upwards: _Sly hits from Sandon and Clavering_; _Home Strokes from Dowling_; _Mrs. Hovendon's Evidence_; _Mrs. Tavery, Doctor O'Meara, Master Carter_, &c. The person of Mrs. Clarke, posed in a triumphant attitude, is the figure which completes this superstructure of folly. _April 18, 1809._ _The Sick Lion and the Asses._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Duke of York's head is placed on the shoulders of the disabled forest king, a pair of asses are showing their heels to the royal beast. 'What a _Cur it is_!' and 'Every man has his _Price_,' written on their collars, proclaim the identity of these animals. Another ass, of deeper cunning, forbears to take advantage of the prostrate lion, from far-seeing motives: 'Pshaw, pshaw! don't be afraid, I shall not kick, you may depend upon me--you may be of service to me hereafter!' The apologue is said to be 'taken from Mr. Waithman's speech at the Common Hall:' 'When the royal beast was sick to death, and unable to defend himself, the minor beasts he had injured came to revile him with their wrongs; but when the dull asses came to fling their heels at him the royal animal exclaimed: "Injuries from others I can bear with resignation, but to bear insult from such vile animals as asses is to die a hundred deaths!"' _April 21, 1809._ _Burning the Books._ Published by T. Tegg.--As we have traced in the summary of the diversified proceedings in the Clarke Scandal, the friends of the Duke of York were glad, as a last resource, to make terms with the enemy; and the conditions under which Mrs. Clarke's silence was purchased being published abroad (considering the publicity of the circumstances attending the _Investigation_, the terms of surrender could not be disguised), the satirists made merry over this fresh instance of tergiversation. The edition of Mrs. Clarke's memoirs, the bombshell which threatened the aristocratic peace of mind, was purchased for a certain sum. In the print of 'Burning the Books' the heroine of the scandal is holding up the terms of surrender: '10,000_l._, debts paid, 600_l._ per annum, &c. &c.' The heroine of the memoirs is directing the destruction of her eagerly-expected volumes, containing hundreds of letters from persons of quality, including the correspondence (supposed to have been destroyed) of the Duke of York. The lady is zealous enough in the interests of her profitable clients: 'Burn away! I would burn half the universe for the money. You may preserve a copy or two for Doctor O'Meara and a few private friends. Now for my Brimstone carriage!' The printer's men are carrying piles of the offending work, and committing the edition to the flames. An acknowledgment from the publisher is on the writing-table: 'Received for paper and printing, and also for destroying this,' &c. The figure of the Duke of York is shown, slily peeping from behind a curtain; the Commander, lately resigned, is evidently delighted at the course things are taking, and is crying, 'This will do!' Many of the letters, as Mrs. Clarke declared, reflected in disrespectful terms on the heir to the throne and others of his royal brothers. _April 22, 1809._ _A Piece-Offering._ Published by T. Tegg.--Mrs. Clarke, in all her extensive finery, is sacrificing her memoirs, _Life of Mrs. Clarke_, the Duke's ardent love-letters, and all the disagreeable evidences supposed to have remained in her possession, at the _Altar of Repentance_. The figure of the Commander is rising in effigy above the flames, in the centre of a brilliant sun; his face is turned to the authoress of the pyre with a satisfied smile. The high-priestess of the sacrifice is gratefully addressing the mollified divinity: 'Thus perish all that gives my darling pain!' _May 24, 1809._ _The Quaker and the Clarke._ Published by T. Tegg.--A sedate Quaker, in a suit of modest brown, has turned his back on the beguiling enchantress, fair authoress of so much mischief, and is hurrying away from her entreaties 'to tarry a while,' declaring: 'Woman, avaunt! I am not to be tempted; and be it known also I am a married man,' &c. _May 28, 1809._ _John Bull and the Genius of Corruption._ Published by T. Tegg (94).--The national prototype has been haranguing on the extinction of abuses with a compound symbolical monster, who is standing in the way of progress and healthy legislation. Mr. Bull's corrupt opponent is making the Jesuitical concession: 'What you say about Reform, Johnny, is very true, but this is not the time for it!' John Bull, who has no opinion of the obstructive party, is retorting, 'No, nor it never will be while such a monster as you remains in existence!' The monster, who is evidently a difficult customer to deal with, wears a defensive cap of _Professions and Promises_; he has 'an eye to _Interest_,' a _Mouth of Guile_, and a nose to _Scent for Interest_; he wears the _Collar of Corruption_, has _Wings of Speculation_, _Arms of Power_, and _Hands of Extortion_, and is further provided with bags of gold for the purpose of bribery, _Deep Pockets of Perquisites_, _Legs of Luxury_, and he is propped on _Feet of Connivance_. _June 12, 1809._ _Boney's Broken Bridge._--The Austrian army is drawn up in security on one side of the river Danube; Buonaparte, in a fine rage with his discomfited generals, and his disappointed legions, are arrayed on the other bank, powerless to disturb their exulting adversaries. The Emperor is pointing to the remains of his famous bridge, and furiously demanding, in reply to the Austrian taunts: 'Ah, who is it that dares contradict me? I say it was some floating timber and the high swell of the river that caused the shocking accident!' An impolitic old general, bowing low, and in consternation at the news he is obliged to impart, is replying: 'With all due deference to your little Majesty, it was the Austrian fire-boats that destroyed the bridge.' The Archduke's troops are chanting a new edition of an old nursery rhyme:-- Boney's bridge is broken down, Dance over the Lady Lee; Boney's bridge is broken down By an Archduke--ee. _July 9, 1809._ _Hell Broke Loose, or the Devil to Pay among the 'Darling Angels.'_ Published by T. Tegg.--The dark fiend is standing at the gates of the infernal regions, scourge in hand; he is dressed in the wig and robes of a judge, and poised on a slab, setting forth the well-recognised axiom: _Two of a trade can never agree_. The diabolical personage is holding the balance between the two principal actors in the late proceedings. It will be remembered that a misunderstanding occurred between the chief conspirators. Soon after the conclusion of the investigation in the House of Commons, Colonel Wardle and Mrs. Clarke began to exchange mutual recriminations, and the public were gratified with fresh scandalous revelations; the champion of impartial justice began to lose his strangely-earned popularity. Colonel Wardle is plunged into the scale of _Patriotism_, with an infernal imp to weigh him down; the gold box, in which the freedoms of more than one town were offered to the enemy of corruption, and the York _impeachment papers_ are thrown into the scale to make weight. Mrs. Clarke is balanced against her late coadjutor in the scale of _Virtue_. 'Love-letters, Mr. Wright's bill, Doctor Donovan's bill,' &c., are added to weigh against the Colonel's testimonials. _July, 1809._ _The Tables are Turned. How are the Mighty Fallen!_--The public were treated with the spectacle of the patriotic champion sued in a law court for the furniture of Mrs. Clarke's house at Westbourne Place, which had been taken on his guarantee and recommendation. The Court gave judgment against the crestfallen Colonel, who had denied his liability, and he was adjudged to pay the heavy expenses incurred in the new establishment and the incidental costs of the process. In Rowlandson's view of the situation Mrs. Clarke is seen mounted on her asinine ex-supporter; the head of the steed bears a face suggestively resembling the countenance of the patriot; a 'Turkey carpet' furnishes a saddle; the motto _England expects every man to do his duty_ is written on the bridle; 'Wright, the upholsterer's bill' is tied to the animal's tail; the lady is whipping up her reluctant supporter with a birch labelled 'Private promises.' The ass is scattering the chairs, tables, mirrors, fenders, and other objects particularised on 'the bill' which gave the Colonel so much irritation; the flattering presentations, addresses, gold boxes, 'Thanks to my ass,' 'Lies against the Duke of York,' 'Thanks to a Welch Billy Goat,' 'From the City of London,' 'Thanks and freedom in a gold box,' and other complimentary testimonials, are scattered on the ground. The dashing rider is making an exhibition of her skilful management of the donkey tribe:-- I've a fine stud of Asses as ever was seen; This is one of the number from Westbourne Green. Gee up, Neddy, come up, Neddy, &c., What do you think of my Neddy and me? _July 14, 1809._ _More of the Clarke, or Fresh Accusations._ Published by T. Tegg.--Colonel Wardle is exposed to the public in a humiliating position; his former mob-popularity is reversed, and their admiration is changed to ridicule. The scene is supposed to take place in front of the mansion in Westbourne Place, before which is assembled a crowd of jeering spectators. Mrs. Clarke, unabashed, as in the previous disclosures, is frankly denouncing her ex-colleague, and pointing to the luxurious fittings of her bedroom. She is unmasking the scandalised champion to his late friends the mob: 'And Clarke said unto Felix, Thou art the man;--behold the furniture! and Felix trembled.' The Colonel, whose reputation did not improve as the innuendoes of his new opponents became more daring, with clasped hands and his knees knocking together, is servilely trying to reinstate his lost reputation: 'Good people of the United Kingdom, suspend your judgment for the present, till I get this woman placed in the pillory. I never did anything naughty no more than the child unborn. It was all for the good of my country, I assure you. I am as firm a patriot as ever purchased a convex mirror or a red Turkey carpet.' _July 16, 1809._ _The Plot Thickens, or Diamond Cut Diamond._ Published by T. Tegg.--Mrs. Clarke is still in the thick of her complications. She is standing, unmoved, in the centre of the picture. Colonel Wardle, who soon fell out with his ally when pushed to fulfil her conditions, is declaring for vengeance: 'I intend to commence an action against her for obtaining money under false pretences in the case of French's levy. I'll teach her to send gentlemen to Newgate.' Another individual, dressed as a civilian, recommends: 'Leave her to me; I'll touch her up in the furniture business!' Mrs. Clarke, with her hands on her lips, is replying: 'I don't care a fig for any of you; and as to you, Mr. Furnituremonger, I'll be beforehand with you.' A stout gentleman behind the fair _intriguante_ cries, 'That's a good girl, follow him up; I'll back you; I'll let him know whose _Wright_ and whose _Wrong_. If I don't enter an action against him I'm no upholsterer.' A young barrister, holding a voluminous brief, is smiling with satisfaction at the prospect of litigation, and encouraging both sides: 'That's right, my good friends; it's all for the _Best_!' _July 18, 1809._ _Amusement for the Recess, or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture._ Published by T. Tegg.--Colonel Wardle is represented, in an infuriated state, wreaking vengeance on the offensive furniture, which had caused the destruction of his popularity and his reputation; the lately immaculate champion is armed with a bludgeon; he is trampling under foot 'An Essay on Keeping Bad Company,' and breaking up the elegant belongings of the establishment, for the privilege of supplying which he had been compelled to pay a sufficiently heavy penalty; he is made to exclaim: 'D---- the furniture, d---- the convex mirrors and red Turkey carpets; d---- Westbourne Place and everything that belongs to it.' Mrs. Clarke is rather entertained than dismayed at this spirit of wanton destructiveness: 'Deary, those little gusts of Welsh passion become you extremely; the exercise will do you good; besides, it will increase your popularity!' _July 30, 1809._ _The Bill of Wright's, or the Patriot Alarmed._ Published by T. Tegg.--The upholsterer has waited on Colonel Wardle and unrolled his long bill: 'Gullem Waddle, Esq., to Wright. Red Turkey carpet, convex mirror, chandeliers, sideboards, bed furniture, chairs and tables, vases and cellarets, Egyptian furniture, _sofa à la Clarke_,' and other weighty items. 'Mr. Gullem Waddle, I have brought you in a small bill for goods delivered for the Cleopatra of Westbourne Place; and, as you are a true patriot, you can have no possible objection to the Bill of Wright's.' The dismayed Colonel, keeping his hands in his pockets, is making a counter-proposal: 'What do you talk about patriotism? I tell you I have left off practice. D---- the Bill of Wright's! It is all a mistake about Westbourne Place; you should have taken it to Gloucester Place--there you would be sure to have had your money!' _August 1, 1809._ _The Mistake._ Published by T. Tegg. _August 1, 1809._ _Wonders, Wonders, Wonders._ Published by T. Tegg. (101).--Ten figures of 'Natural Curiosities,' designed and etched by Rowlandson. A certain amount of care is bestowed on the execution of this plate. The marvels of the age in which the caricature was published have not, in most cases, become monotonously plentiful in our own day. As set down by the satirist the ten wonders were the discoveries of 'A modest woman of quality; a primitive Bishop; a real maid of five-and-thirty; an exciseman with a conscience; an author with a second suit of clothes (this fictitious person has been represented in a most jubilant fashion); a great man of common sense; a woman who has continued three months a widow; a theatrical hero of modesty and economy; a complete honest attorney;' and, lastly, 'a man of talents, wit, and learning possessed of a thousand a year.' On the close of the Clarke Scandal, which had fitly served the purpose of the satirist, our caricaturist resumed his series of attacks upon the more memorable 'disturber of the peace of Europe.' _August 28, 1809._ _The Rising Sun, or a View of the Continent._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Buonaparte is surrounded by the Continental Powers; his present occupation is to lull and rock to slumber, in a cradle, the Russian Bear, muzzled with French promises, and tempted with 'Turkey wheat.' The Corsican is figuratively and literally sitting on thorns; the sun of Spain and Portugal is arising on the meridian with threatening import. Sweden has taken the part of watchguard of Freedom, and is raising the cap of liberty; a Swedish huzzar is making a desperate sabre-cut at the too successful general, and sounding a warning note to the betrayed Muscovite: 'Awake, thou sluggard, ere the fatal blow is struck, and thou and thine execrable ally sunk to eternal oblivion.' The Emperor is disturbed by the new light: 'This rising sun has set me upon thorns.' The Dutchman, with a broken sceptre, is sunk in a besotted sleep on a cask of 'genuine hollands,' and leaning the weight of his fat person on his ally, who finds the weight a trifle crushing. Poland is represented as a shadow; the Prussian eagle is trussed; and the King, with straw in his hair, and confined in a strait-waistcoat, is singing mad ditties. Denmark is snuffed out under an extinguisher; but the Austrian Emperor is once more taking heart and advancing to the attack, sabre in hand, with dangerous intentions: 'Tyrant, I defy thee and thy cursed crew!' _September 3, 1809._ _The Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte, or Napoleon brought to his last stool._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Pope and his legates have called on the Emperor, with candle and bell, to produce an effect. The head of the Church is propped up on 'French crutches,' and his triple crown is split asunder; he is declaring: 'He has cracked my crown, overturned my temporal dignities; but I am so trammelled in these crutches that I cannot follow him as I would wish; however, my good Lord Cardinals, read him the excommunication--it will make him tremble on his throne.' The Cardinals proceed to rehearse the contents of the comminatory scroll; the Emperor, who is holding an 'Essay on the Church of Rome,' amongst other waste papers, is returning, unmoved: 'Mercy on me! I never heard anything half so dreadful. When you have done with that paper, gentlemen, I will thank you for it!' _September 4, 1809._ _Song by Commodore Curtis._ _Tune, 'Cease, rude Boreas.'_ Published by T. Tegg.--The artist has furnished the heading for a parody setting forth the adventures of the gallant Curtis, Alderman and Commodore, with the expedition which was sent to assist our allies the Dutch against the French. Curtis is seated in his armchair in the cabin of his yacht, a great gold challenge cup, _Speedy and Soon_, in his grasp, with a turtle laid on its back by his side. A party of English officers belonging to the expedition have come on board, and they are making free with his good things; wine and punch are flowing lavishly. According to the song-writer's version these gallant warriors, having boarded the Commodore's yacht and made sad havoc with all his provisions, succeeded, after a three days' devastation, in eating and drinking all the plentiful supplies laid in by poor Curtis, until at last he began to dread that they might take it into their heads to eat him too. Although the worthy cit set out enthusiastically and filled with valour, his return was somewhat less heroic:-- From Ramsgate we set sail for Flushing, To aid our friends the Mynheers; And for the Scheld our fleet was pushing, Resolved to trounce the d----d Monsieurs! Slightly discomfited, the Commodore sounds a retreat:-- Now farewell all my hopes of glory, Scheld's muddy flood and isles adieu; I'll lead the van with the first story, And tell the Cockneys something new. I'll talk of batteries, bloody sieges, Of fizzing bombshells, towns on fire, Till my tale the whole town obliges My deeds and courage to admire. _September 14, 1809._ _A Design for a Monument to be erected in commemoration of the glorious and never-to-be-forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably planned and executed in the year 1809._ Published by T. Tegg (107).--The bust of General Chatham, crowned with bulrushes, is at the head of this satirical memorial; monkeys and frogs are grouped on either side, 'French monkeys in attitudes of derision,' and 'Dutch frogs smoking their pipes in safety.' The shield represents 'the immortal William Pitt, Earl of Chatham,' obscured in the clouds. The supporters of the escutcheon are a 'British seaman in the dumps,' and 'John Bull, somewhat gloomy--but for what it is difficult to guess, after so glorious an achievement.' _The Motto._ Great Chatham, with one hundred thousand men, To Flushing sailed, and then sailed back again. The fleet is represented sailing homeward under the 'Sun of Glory.' 'A flying view of the return of the expedition. _O tempora! O mores!_' _September 24, 1809._ _General Cheathem's marvellous Return from his Exhibition of Fireworks._ Published by T. Tegg (108).--The General is returning from the abortive Walcheren Expedition, mounted on a flying wooden horse, which, like Don Quixote's and other enchanted steeds, is performing wonders in the way of discharging rockets; on one side of the General swings a fleet of ships, 'Wooden castles in the air,' balanced by such empty bladders as the 'Walcheren Expedition,' 'Bereland, plan and fortifications of Flushing,' &c. The glorious General has taken a pair of Dutch dolls captive, and these are the chief trophies of his adventure. 'Here I am, my dear Johnny, escaped from fire, water, plague, pestilence, and famine; my fireworks have given general satisfaction abroad. I must now couch on a "bed of roses," and hope when I awake to be rewarded with a pension and dukedom for brilliant services.' Mr. Bull and his lady are standing on their own shores, deeply impressed with the General's manoeuvres. Cries Mrs. Bull, 'Lord, what a man of mettle he is!' John Bull is grasping his thick stick in a way that looks menacing: 'General Cheathem flying back, as I foretold, garnished out with drops and Dutch metal. Where is the ten million of British bullion, you scarecrow? The Sinking Fund suits your talents better than sinking of ships.' Commodore Curtis, in his yacht, is sailing away from the 'mortality at Flushing,' and shouting in great glee: 'A new contract for mouldy biscuits. Expeditions for ever. Huzza!' 1809. _A Plan for a General Reform._ Published by T. Tegg. _September 27, 1809._ _This is the House that Jack Built._ (_Old Price Row at Drury Lane._) Published by T. Tegg.--This cartoon, in six compartments, is aimed at Kemble's new house, which, from certain arrangements of the boxes, and other innovations, became the cause of considerable turbulence-- These are the Boxes let to the great That visit the House that Jack built. The curtain of the theatre bears the advertisement: 'Grand theatrical Bagnio, fitted up in the Italian style;' 'Lodgings to let for the season, or a single night;' 'Roomy pit for parsons, poets, Presbyterians, Quakers, grumblers,' &c.; 'Boxes for the Cyprian corps, with snug lobby to ditto;' 'Private accommodations for the Members of both Houses of Parliament;' '_Boudoirs pour la Noblesse_;' 'Rabbit hutches, seven shillings each;' 'Humbug gallery, _two shillings_;' and, chief cause of dissatisfaction, 'Pigeon-holes for the swinish multitude':-- These are the pigeon-holes over the Boxes, Let to the great that visit the House that Jack built. This is the Cat engaged to squall to the poor in the pidgeon-holes over the Boxes, let to the great that visit the House that Jack built. Madame Catalini is endeavouring to sing; but the audience, armed with rattles, post-horns, and other noisy instruments, are raising a regular uproar:-- This is John Bull with a bugle-horn, That hissed the Cat engaged to squall to the poor, &c. This is the Thief-taker,[21] shaven and shorn, That took up John Bull, with his bugle-horn, &c.-- The rioters are having a regular stand-up fight outside the theatre, as well as within. The last verse-- This is the Manager, full of scorn, Who rais'd the price to the people forlorn, &c., And directed the Thief-taker, shaven and shorn, &c.-- introduces the great John Kemble at the foot-lights, haranguing his unruly audience; the house is represented much as it actually appeared; the rioters, provided with squirts, bellows, marrow-bones, cleavers, rattles, cow-horns, and all sorts of rough music, in short, every instrument of noise that ingenuity could suggest, with huge streamers, banners, and placards, held out on long poles, &c., containing such announcements as 'No theatrical taxation,' 'No intriguing shop,' 'No annual boxes,' 'No Italian singers,' 'None of your Jesuitical tricks, you black monk,' 'Be silent, Mr. Kemble's head _aitches_,' 'Kemble, remember the Dublin tin-man,' 'Dickons for ever, no Catalini.' _September 30, 1809._ _A Lump of Impertinence._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg.--'Who the devil do you stare at? Get along about your business.' 1809(?). _A Lump of Innocence._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.--A florid beauty, of the fat, fair, forty, and full-blown type, is 'affecting a modesty, though she has it not;' her eyes are downcast, and a blush suffuses all over, her cheeks being about the colour of a bumper of rubicund cognac brandy which she is imbibing, probably with a view to hide her sensibility: 'Really, gentlemen, if you gaze at me in this manner you will put me quite to the blush!' _October 9, 1809._ _Miseries of Human Life._ Published by T. Tegg (257). 1809. _Business and Pleasure._ Published by T. Tegg (292). _October 24, 1809._ _Preparations for the Jubilee, or Theatricals Extraordinary._ Published by T. Tegg.--A range of booths occupies the background of the view; a pole is erected before each of the tents, displaying a flag and an advertising poster, indicating the nature of the show provided within. The preparations are being completed, the workmen are putting the finishing strokes in readiness for opening. Under the union-jack is _Perceval, Eldon & Co.'s Pic Nic Entertainments; any port in a storm_. Under 'false colours' is Don John's booth, announcing, _Set a beggar on horseback, he'll ride to the devil_, with the _Row, or a fig for John Bull_. Mr. Canning's Booth advertises _The Double Dealer_, with _The Duellist_. Lord Mulgrave offers _A Chapter of Accidents_, with _'Tis well 'tis no Worse_. Lord Castlereagh promises _The Revenge_, with _Who would have thought it?_ Lord Wellington's booth has _The Wild Goose Chase_, with _The Wanderer_. Under a huge cocked-hat, as a sign, is General Chatham's booth, 'Just arrived from Flushing.' A comedy called _Delays and Blunders_, to which will be added _He will be a Soldier_, is the bill offered from Holland. Mrs. Clarke's booth presents _A new melodrama_, called _More Secrets than One_, with _Various Deceptions_; and her neighbour, Colonel Wardle, promises _Plot and Counter Plot_, with the farce of the _Upholsterer_. _October 25, 1809._ _A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg (188).--Six subjects, representing fair and fashionably-dressed female loungers of the period, parodied under the several descriptions of _À la Mode Beef_, _Rump of Beef_, _Breast of Veal_, _Veal Cutlets_, _Baron of Beef_, and _Pork Sausage_. The figures of these various personages are marked with spirit, and the respective attributes are conveyed with a certain humorous appropriateness. 1809. _A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures._ Published by T. Tegg.--A variation of the subjects published under a similar title, in which the charms of numerous females are set forth under figurative titles; the persons of six ladies are displayed in this print, their personal attractions being grotesquely set off as _Pigs Pettitoes_, _Scrag of Mutton_, _Leg of Lamb_, _Polony_, _Cod's Head and Shoulders_, and _Lamb Chop, with Mint Sauce_. (Republished from 1808. Companion to No. 188. Published October 25, 1809.) _December 1, 1809._ _Cattle not Insurable._ _Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat Home for the Holidays._ Published by T. Tegg (No. 293). _December 12, 1809._ _The Boxes._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi:-- O woe is me, 't have seen what I have seen; Seeing what I see!--SHAKESPEARE. The artist has given a view of the 'pigeon-holes' at Drury Lane, as the new gallery in 'the house that Jack built' was derisively christened; the present plate offers a burlesque representation of the refined parts of the house, taken possession of by a company more miscellaneous than select. The 'rabbit-hutches,' at seven shillings, are given up to owls and deaf people; a narrow row below, in which the space is so confined that it is impossible for the spectators to stand upright, is held by Irish cabmen, roughs smoking long clay pipes, &c.; below these, in the _boudoirs pour la noblesse_, we find the servants of the great, dramdrinking, hobanobbing, and flirting. The occupants of the rest of the private boxes are of a ruffianly type; big sticks and publican's pewter measures are noticeable, besides gentlemen with damaged optics, and without coats; a great dog, ladies from St. Giles's, and similarly distinguished members of society. A scene of quarrelling, practical joking, and general uproar is proceeding below. _December 23, 1809._ _A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.--The sketch represents a view of the first thoroughfare where gas was employed to illuminate the streets. Mr. Ackermann, the publisher, was one of the earliest to light his Repository with gas, which he manufactured for the purpose, and was at considerable expense in providing apparatus and making experiments in improving the process. The sightseers are lost in wonder and admiration at the novelty of finding gas burning in the streets; the lamps are arranged in branches of three. A gentleman of fashion is endeavouring to explain the science of gas-making to an elegant creature on his arm: 'The coals being steamed, produce tar or paint for the outside of houses; the smoke passing through water is deprived of substance, and burns as you see.' An Irish visitor, who has, uninvited, been attending to this lucid explanation, is bursting out with 'Arrah, honey, if this man brings fire through water we shall soon have the Thames and the Liffey burnt down, and all the pretty little herrings and whales burnt to cinders!' Amongst other wondergazers is a country farmer, who is exclaiming, 'Wauns, what a main pretty light it be! we have nothing like it in our country.' A Quaker, his companion, is responding, 'Ay, friend, but it is all vanity; what is this to the inward light?' The more disreputable members of the community are reflecting that the new light will expose their depravities and put a stop to their commerce. _December, 1809._ _Joint Stock Street._ Woodward del., Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg (174).--From this satire it seems that a company-mania must have raged in 1809, suggestive, in its extravagance, of the days of the South Sea Bubble. In front of the _Hospital for Incurables_ is a blank wall, covered with advertisements of various joint-stock enterprises, which are attracting the attention of the speculative. There is a _Doctors' Company_, offering incalculable advantages: 'No charge for emetics, &c.; patent coffins provided on the shortest notice; no surgeons admitted.' '_A Company of Menders_, open to both sexes; wives to mend their husbands, husbands to mend their wives, and most particularly, everybody to mend themselves.' _Company of White-washers. N.B. No lawyers admitted. More advantages; a new Cabbage and Potatoe Company, warranted genuine; no cooking required, saves time and trouble._ At the corner of Bubble Alley is the following tempting notice: _Peter Puff, manufacturer of deal boards without knots, from genuine sawdust, &c._ And outside a miserable hovel is the advertisement of _Tim Slashem, barber, and perriwig maker, who has a company in formation of mowers of beards by a new machine, to shave sixty men in a minute, to comb, oil, and powder their wigs in the bargain_. _December 24, 1809._ _The Bull and Mouth._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg (290).--A corpulent gentleman, wearing a dressing-gown and nightcap, is yawning and stretching in his armchair. His huge head and gaping jaws would furnish forth excellently well a sign for the _Bull and Mouth_. By his side stands a handsome and highly developed lady, who is taking advantage of the sleepiness of her rude monster to slip a _billet-doux_ into the hand of a military officer, who is waiting in the rear. 1809. _A Glee. How shall we Mortals Spend our Hours? In Love! in War! in Drinking!_ Published by T. Tegg.--Three figures, represented as seated at table, with all the appointments and accessories incidental to the brewing of punch, carry out the spirit of the quotation. The lover, a smart young buck, in top-boots, is rapturously clasping his hands, after a toast, in inward contemplation of the perfections of his mistress. An old Commodore illustrates the idea of a life spent in warfare--although minus an eye and a leg, he is tough and hearty, and is seemingly content with his pipe and bowl. The brutalising results of hours devoted to mere bestial intoxication are realised in the person of a slovenly and imbecile sot. 1809. _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature._ Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stadler, aquatinta. Published by T. Tegg. A View in Camelford, Cornwall Sept. 1, 1809. The Seat of M. Mitchell, Esq., Hengar, Cornwall Sept. 1 " A Cottage in the Duchy of Cornwall Sept. 1 " Village of St. Udy, Cornwall Sept. 1 " Fowey, Cornwall Sept. 30 " A View near Richmond Oct. 4 " A View in Devonshire Oct. 4 " Taunton Vale, Somersetshire Nov. 25 " View near Newport, Isle of Wight Nov. 25 " Temple at Strawberry Hill Nov. 25 " White Lion Inn, Ponders End, Middlesex Nov. 25 " STERNE'S 'SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.' CALAIS. _The Coach-yard of Monsieur Dessein's Inn._--'This certainly, fair lady,' said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, 'must be one of Fortune's whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their hands--of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe--and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as Friendship herself could scarce have achieved for them, had she projected it for a month.' 'And your reflection upon it shews how much, monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure.' In saying this she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text. The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply. * * * * * I fear, in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my own--not as if she was going to withdraw hers, but as if she thought about it--and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last resource in these dangers--to hold it loosely, and in a manner as if I was every moment going to release it of myself; so she let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the meantime I set myself to consider how I should undo the ill impressions which the poor monk's story, in case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me. [Illustration: YORICK AND FATHER LORENZO.] _The Snuffbox._--The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of them crossed my mind, and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. He stopped, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuffbox in his hand, he presented it, open, to me. 'You shall taste mine,' said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoiseshell one), and putting it into his hand. ''Tis most excellent,' said the monk. 'Then do me the favour,' I replied, 'to accept of the box and all; and, when you take a pinch out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.' The poor monk blushed as red as scarlet. '_Mon Dieu!_' said he, pressing his hands together, 'you never used me unkindly.' 'I should think,' said the lady, 'he is not likely.' I blushed in my turn, but from what movements I leave to the few who feel to analyse. 'Excuse me, madame,' replied I, 'I treated him most unkindly, and from no provocations.' ''Tis impossible,' said the lady. 'My God!' cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seemed not to belong to him, 'the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal.' The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible that a spirit so regulated as his could give offence to any. I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. We remained silent, without any sensations of that foolish pain which takes place when in such a circle you look for ten minutes in one another's faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, the monk rubbed his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction, he made a low bow and said 'twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in this contest; but be it as it would, he begged we might exchange boxes. In saying this he presented his to me with one hand as he took mine from me in the other, and having kissed it, with a stream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom--and took his leave. I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better: in truth, I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in the jostlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when, upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at the same time a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in himself. I feel a damp upon my spirits as I am going to add, that in my last return through Calais, upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off. I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him--when, upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into a flood of tears. But I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but pity me. MONTRIUL. _The Bidet._--When all is ready, and every article is disputed and paid for in the inn, unless you are a little soured by the adventure, there is always a matter to compound at the door, before you can get into your chaise; and that is with the sons and daughters of poverty, who surround you. Let no man say, 'Let them go to the devil'--'tis a cruel journey to send a few miserables, and they have had sufferings enow without it. I always find it better to take a few sous out in my hand; and I would counsel every gentle traveller to do so likewise: he need not be so exact in setting down his motives for giving them--they will be registered elsewhere. * * * * * Having settled all these small matters, I got into my postchaise with more ease than ever I got into a postchaise in my life; and La Fleur having got one large jack-boot on the far side of a little _bidet_ (post-horse), and another on this (for I count nothing of his legs), he cantered away before me, as happy and as perpendicular as a prince. But what is happiness! What is grandeur in this painted scene of life! A dead ass, before we had got a league, put a stop to La Fleur's career--his _bidet_ would not pass it; a contention arose betwixt them, and the poor fellow was kicked out of his jack-boots the very first kick. La Fleur bore his fall like a French Christian, saying neither more or less upon it than _Diable!_ so presently got up and came to the charge again--then this way--then that way: and, in short, every way but by the dead ass. La Fleur insisted upon the thing--and the _bidet_ threw him. 'What's the matter, La Fleur,' said I, 'with this _bidet_ of thine?' '_Monsieur_,' said he, '_c'est un cheval le plus opiniatre du monde_.' 'Nay, if he is a conceited beast, he must go his own way,' replied I. So La Fleur got off him, and giving him a good sound lash, the _bidet_ took me at my word, and away he scampered back to Montriul. '_Peste!_' said La Fleur. * * * * * _Le Diable!_ which is the first and positive degree, is generally used for ordinary emotions of the mind, where small things only fall out contrary to your expectation, such as--the throwing one's doublets--La Fleur's being kicked off his horse, and so forth--cuckoldom, for the same reason, is always--_Le Diable!_ But in cases where the cast has something provoking in it, as in that of the _bidet's_ running away after--and leaving La Fleur aground in jack-boots--'tis the second degree. 'Tis then _Peste!_ As there was no hunting down a frightened horse in jack-boots, there remained no alternative but taking La Fleur either behind the chaise or into it. I preferred the latter, and in half an hour we got to the post-house at Namport. NAMPORT. _The Dead Ass._--'And this,' said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet, 'and this should have been thy portion,' said he, 'had'st thou been alive to have shared it with me.' I thought by the accent it had been an apostrophe to his child; but it was to his ass, and to the very ass we had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true touches of nature. The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the ass's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took up from time to time--then laid them down--looked at them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some time in his hand, then laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle--looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made, and then gave a sigh. The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting in the postchaise, I could see and hear over their heads. [Illustration: LA FLEUR AND THE DEAD ASS.] He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the farthest borders of Franconia, and had got so far on his return home, when his ass died. Everyone seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home. It had pleased heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in Germany; but having, in one week, lost two of them by the smallpox, and the youngest falling ill of the distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all; and made a vow, if heaven would not take him from him also, he would go, in gratitude, to St. Jago, in Spain. When the mourner got thus far in his story he stopped to pay Nature her tribute, and wept bitterly. He said heaven had accepted the conditions, and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey--that it had eat the same bread with him all the way and was unto him as a friend. Everybody who stood about heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur offered him money. The mourner said he did not want it--it was not the value of the ass, but the loss of him. The ass, he said, he was assured loved him--and upon this told them a long story of mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had separated them from each other three days: during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and that they had neither scarce eat or drank till they met. 'Thou hast one comfort, friend,' said I, 'at least in the loss of thy poor beast: I am sure thou hast been a merciful master to him.' 'Alas!' said the mourner, 'I thought so when he was alive, but now he is dead I think otherwise. I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him--they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for.' 'Shame on the world!' said I to myself, 'did we love each other as this poor soul but loved his ass, 'twould be something.' 1809. _Butler's Hudibras_, in three parts, written in the time of the late wars, corrected and amended, with large annotations and preface, by Zachary Grey, LL.D. Embellished with engravings by T. Rowlandson, Esq. London: Printed for T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. W. Hogarth, inv.; Rowlandson, sc. 1. Frontispiece. Hudibras and Ralpho in the Stocks. 2. Setting out. Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, And out he rode a-colonelling. 3. The Battle. The scatter'd rout return and rally, Surround the place; the Knight does sally, And is made pris'ner. 4. The Knight and Ralpho consult the Gymnosophist. The Knight with various doubt posses't To win the lady goes in quest Of Sidrophel, the Rosy-Crucian, To know the Dest'nies' resolution; With whom b'ing met, they both chop logic About the science astrologic; 'Till falling from dispute to fight, The conj'rer's worsted by the Knight. 5. Sidrophel and Whacum consulting the firmament. This said, he to his engine flew, Plac'd near at hand in open view, And rais'd it 'till it levell'd right Against the glowworm tail of Kite, Then peeping thro', Bless us (quoth he) It is a planet, now I see, And, if I err not, by his proper Figure, that's like tobacco stopper, It should be Saturn. 1809. _Surprising Adventures Of the Renowned Baron Munchausen._ Containing singular travels, campaigns, voyages, and adventures. Embellished with numerous engravings by T. Rowlandson. London: Printed for T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. Frontispiece.--Baron Munchausen's extraordinary flight on the back of an eagle, and supported by a second eagle, from Margate over the continents of Europe, South and North America, the Polar regions, and back to Margate, within thirty-six hours. The Baron arrives at Ceylon, combats and conquers two extraordinary opponents (a lion and a crocodile). The snow having melted, the Baron discovers his horse in the air, secured by the bridle to the church steeple; the Baron proves himself a good shot, cuts the bridle in two, and resumes his journey. Is presented with a famous horse by Count Przolossky, with which he performs many extraordinary feats; the horse is cut in two by the portcullis of Oczakow, which the Baron only discovers when he leads his spirited steed to drink at the fountain, and the water flows out at the rear of the severed half. Bathes in the Mediterranean, is swallowed by a fish, from which he is extricated by dancing a hornpipe. The Baron jumps into the sea with a Turkish piece of ordnance on his shoulders (which fires a marble ball of three hundred pounds weight) and swims across the Simois. The ship, driven by a whirlwind, a thousand leagues above the surface of the waters; the Baron discovers the inhabitants of the moon, with some traders from the Dog Star. Travelling in the South Sea they lose their compass; their ship slips between the teeth of a fish unknown in this part of the world. The Baron crosses the Thames without the assistance of a bridge, ship, boat, balloon, or even his own will; being blown out of one of the Tower guns in which he had fallen asleep, and the cannon is unexpectedly fired to celebrate an anniversary. 1809. _The Beauties of Sterne_; comprising his humorous and descriptive _Tales, Letters, &c._ Embellished by caricatures by Rowlandson, from original drawings by Newton. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside. Frontispiece. The Dance at Amiens, &c. 1809. _Poetical Magazine._ Dedicated to the lovers of the Muse by the Agent of the goddess, R. Ackermann. Published November 1, 1809, at R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 101 Strand. Introduction to _The Schoolmasters Tour_. Vol. 1.--'In the Tour, with the first part of which we here present our readers, the author carries his hero through a great variety of whimsical adventures, to the Lakes and back again. As tours are a fashionable article in the literature of the present day, we trust that the poetical peregrinations of Doctor Syntax will come in for some share, at least, of the public applause, to which we conceive it to be entitled. The lovers of humour will not be displeased to be informed that it will be accompanied with a considerable number of illustrative engravings.' [Illustration: THE MANSION HOUSE MONITOR.] CARICATURES SUPPLIED BY ROWLANDSON TO THE _POETICAL MAGAZINE_. VOLUME I. 1. Doctor Syntax setting out on his Tour to the Lakes May 1, 1809. 2. The Mansion House Monitor June 1 " 3. Doctor Syntax losing his way June 1 " 4. Doctor Syntax stopped by Highwaymen June 1 " 6. Doctor Syntax bound to a Tree by Highwaymen July 1 " 8. Doctor Syntax disputing his Bill with the Landlady Aug. 1 " The Last Drop. A Woodcut. (Death striking the Drinker). (See _April 5, 1811_) Aug. 1 " 10. Doctor Syntax copying the wit on the Window Sept. 1 " 12. Doctor Syntax entertained at College Oct. 1 " 13. Doctor Syntax pursued by a Bull Oct. 1 " VOLUME II. 2. Doctor Syntax mistakes a gentleman's house for an Inn Nov. 1 " 4. Doctor Syntax meditating on the Tombstone Dec. 1 " 5. An illustration to 'Edwin and Matilda, or the Beach King.' A legendary tale, in four cantos Dec. 1 " The Baron addressing the Harpists at the banquet to Earl Edwin:-- 'Cease, caitiffs! nor further insult with your noise The ears of our noble young guest. Hence, away! and bear with you those coarse thrumming toys!' The minstrels departed,--when, raising his voice, The Baron Earl Edwin address'd. 6. Doctor Syntax tumbling into the Water Jan. 1, 1810. 7. Illustration to 'Edwin and Matilda' Jan. 1 " The Beach King discovering himself to Matilda:-- A truncheon of coral he grasp'd in his hand, Which, tho' pond'rous, with ease he could swing: Thus array'd was the monster so fear'd thro' the land; Thus horribly form'd, by Matilda did stand The mighty, enormous Beach King. 8. Doctor Syntax losing his money on the Raceground at York Feb. 1, 1810. 10. Doctor Syntax at a Review March 1 " 12. Doctor Syntax with my Lord April 1 " 13. Doctor Syntax made free of the Cellar April 1 " VOLUME III. 1. Doctor Syntax sketching the Lake May 1 " 3. Doctor Syntax sketching after Nature June 1 " 5. Doctor Syntax robbed of his Property July 1 " 7. Doctor Syntax sells Grizzle Aug. 1 " 9. Doctor Syntax and Rural Sports Sept. 1 " 11. Doctor Syntax and the Dairymaid Oct. 1 " VOLUME IV. 1. Doctor Syntax at Liverpool Nov. 1 " 3. Doctor Syntax reading his Tour Dec. 1 " 5. Doctor Syntax Preaching Jan. 1, 1811. 7. Doctor Syntax and the Bookseller Feb. 1 " 9. Doctor Syntax at Covent Garden March 1 " 11. Doctor Syntax returned from his Tour April 1 " 13. Doctor Syntax taking possession of his Living May 1 " The intermediate plates are landscapes, after anonymous artists, engraved in aquatint by Hassell and others. 1809. Beresford (James). _An Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life._ 8vo. 1809. _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature._ Twelve views, drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson. Aquatinted by Stadler. 1809. _The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting._ Republished by Tegg. Plates by Woodward. 12mo. 1809. _Annals of Sporting._ By Caleb Quizem, Esq., and his various Correspondents. Published by T. Tegg. The Courtier is thrown in pursuit of his game, The Poet's too often laid low, Who, mounted on Pegasus, rides after Fame, With 'Hark forward! Huzza! Tally-ho!' 1809. _The Trial of the Duke of York._ In 2 volumes. Published by T. Tegg. 1809. _Annals of Sporting._ By Caleb Quizem. Republished by Tegg. Plates by Woodward. 12mo. Frontispiece. _The Bucephalus Riding Academy for Grown Gentlemen._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sc. Titlepage. Vignette; the Author thrown from his Pegasus. Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson. Introduction. _Caleb Quizem, Esq._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. _The Maid of Mim._ _Hounds._--1. Rugged and Tough. The Lion Hound. 2. The Black Straddler. The Short-legg'd Stag Hound. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. _Game Wigs._--1. A Long Bob. A Short Bob. A Black Scratch. A Physical Tie. A Sir Cloudesley Shovel. A Three Tier. 2. A Cauliflower. A Full Bottom. A Short Queue. A Long Queue. A Rose Bag. A Full Bag. Costume of Hog's Norton.--1. A back-front view of Miss Dickinson's New Dress. 2. The Morning Dress of a Lady and Gentleman of Hog's Norton. Fashionable Furniture at Hog's Norton.--1. Chimney Ornaments. Improved Trencher. Hogs Norton Recess. Fashionable Looking-glass. Fashionable Clock. 2. The Stocking Sweep. Colonnade of Streets. Fashionable Table. Cobweb Frieze. Sarcophagus, Cellaret, Coal-scuttle. Fashionable Chair. How a Man may Shoot his own Wig. The Bailiff's Hunt:-- 1. Going out in the Morning. 2. In Full Scent. 3. Breaking Cover. 4. The Pursuit. 5. At Fault. 6. The Second Escape. 7. Double and Squat. 8. The Seizure. _The True Method of Sitting a Horse, Mathematically Delineated._ 1. Mathematical Horsemanship.--Mr. Ralph Marrowbone, forming an obtuse angle. 2. Tom Timorous, forming an acute angle. 3. Dickey Diaper, forming a right angle. 4. Mr. Robert Rasp, letting fall a perpendicular from his saddle. 5. Mr. Benjamin Buckskin and his horse performing their evolutions within the circumference of a circle. How to Vault from the Saddle. 1809. _Advice to Sportsmen_, selected from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell. Republished by Tegg. Plates by Woodward, 12mo. 1809. _Advice to Sportsmen_, rural or metropolitan, noviciates or grown persons; with anecdotes of the most renowned shots of the day, exemplified from life, including recommendatory hints on the choice of guns, dogs, and sporting paraphernalia. Also characters, costume, and correspondence. Selected from the original notes of Marmaduke Markwell, Esq., with sixteen illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson:-- But a bold pheasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. '_Dedication._--To the most enlightened Sportsman in the metropolis of the British Empire; equally keen in pursuit of the hare, the haunch, the partridge, pheasant, woodcock, wild fowl, black or red game; devourer of the amphibious turtle, and terror of the Dutch; dead shot at a patriot; a marksman whose brilliant and sporting elocution can start a _Jubilee_ in the worst of times, whose merry jokes can create sport, and are the cause of sport to others: To Sir William Curtis, Bart., M.P. &c., &c., &c., these effusions of a City Sportsman are with all respect inscribed by his most devoted and obedient servant, 'MARMADUKE MARKWELL. 'Turn-again Lane, September 1, 1809.' _Frontispiece._ The Cockney's first attempt at shooting flying. _Illustrations._ Rat-hunting. How to twist your neck. Night. Noon. Morning. The dangerous consequences of sporting. Miss Spitfire's encounter. Advantage of coupling sporting dogs. Finishing a gamekeeper. How to come in at the death. How to cool your courage. A duck hunt in Bartholomew Lane. Neck or nothing. A shooting parson or pot-hunter. Evening. 1809. _The Pleasures of Human Life._ By Hilari Benevolus & Co., with five plates by Rowlandson, &c. Published by Longmans. 1809. _The Pleasures of Human Life._ Investigated cheerfully, elucidated satirically, promulgated explicitly, and discussed philosophically, in a dozen dissertations on male, female, and neuter pleasures. Interspersed with various anecdotes and expounded by numerous annotations by Hilari Benevolus & Co. (Fellow of the London Literary Society of Lusorits). (Mottoes from Milton, Dibdin, and Peter Pindar.) Embellished with five illustrations and two headpieces. London: Longmans & Co. Crown 8vo. Front engraved by W. Bond, after W. Satchwell. Physiognomical vignette on title-page engraved by W. Bond, from _Bell's Anatomy of Expression_. Of Rowlandson's illustrations the author observes, in his preface: 'The five illustrative commendatory etchings do not require any verbal explanation.' Five prints by Rowlandson:-- 1. Christopher Crabtree in the Suds. 2. Mr. Ego's marvellous Story. 3. Connoisseurs, or Portrait Collectors! (The 'collector' in question is slily pocketing a print while the shopman's attention is diverted.) 4. A Brace of Full-grown Puppies, or my Dog and me. 5. Pleasures of Bond Street, or Fashionable Driving. 1809. T. Smollett: _Miscellaneous Works_. Twenty-six illustrations by Rowlandson. 5 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh. 1809. _Gambado. An Academy for Grown Horsemen, &c._ 8vo. Published by T. Tegg. (See 1808.) 1809. _Beauties of Tom Brown._ Frontispiece and illustrations by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg. 12 mo. 1809. _Views in Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Isle of Wight, &c._ 1809. _Scandal: Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the Evidence and Remarks of the Members._ Containing fourteen scarce portraits by Rowlandson, amongst which are Mrs. M. A. Clarke, Sir F. Burdett, Duke of York, Colonel Wardle, &c. 2 vols., 12mo. FOOTNOTES: [10] Mary Moser, the lively lady Royal Academician, and famous flower-painter, writing to Mrs. Lloyd, the first wife of the gentleman she subsequently honoured with her hand, conveys the following account of the reigning mode in town, to her friend in the country: 'Come to London and admire our plumes; we sweep the sky! a duchess wears six feathers, a lady four, and every milk-maid one at each corner of her cap! Your mamma desired me to inquire the name of something she had seen in the windows in Tavistock Street; it seems _she_ was afraid to ask; but _I_ took courage, and they told me they were _rattle-snake tippets_; however, notwithstanding their frightful name, they are not unlike a _beaufong_, only the quills are made stiff, and springy in the starching. Fashion is grown a monster! pray tell your operator that your hair must measure just three quarters of a yard from the extremity of one wing to the other.' [11] 'Eighteen years before the date of the investigation (February 1809), Mrs. Clarke, then being about fourteen years of age, resided with her mother and step-father in Black Raven Passage, Cursitor Street. She was a very pretty, sprightly, gaily-disposed girl, being very fond of showing herself, and attracting attention. At this time Mr. Joseph Clarke, son of a respectable builder on Snow Hill (his father was the "great contractor" of his day, and a _man reputed to be enormously rich_) became enamoured of Miss Thompson, who readily received his addresses. She eloped with him, and they lived together about three years, when he married her. She conducted herself with propriety, and they lived together decently several years; in the course of which she bore him several children, four of whom are alive.'--_Gentleman's Magazine_, February, 1809. [12] The name of Mrs. Clarke's father was Thompson, and he, it appears, was a master printer of some respectability, residing in Bowl and Pin Alley, near White's Alley, Chancery Lane, where Miss Thompson was ushered into the world, as Sterne has it, with 'squalls of disapprobation at the journey she was compelled to perform.' Upon the death of Mr. Thompson, his widow married a Mr. Farquhar, who was engaged as a compositor in the printing house of Mr. Hughes. Miss Thompson was occasionally employed in reading copy to the person engaged as corrector of the press, in which situation she soon attracted the notice of the son of the overseer, who, recognising her abilities, had her placed at a boarding school at Ham, where the young lady, whose 'capacity for elegant improvements' was, if we trust her biographers, of an advanced order, soon acquired ornamental accomplishments; and, from the natural quickness of her parts, she returned, after an absence of two years, so completely altered in her ideas that she thought proper to despise and treat with coldness the attentions of Mr. Day, the well-meaning young gentleman who had been at the charge of finishing her education, it is said, with the view to a future union with this sprightly and promising female prodigy. Her biographers have hinted at least one flirtation, possibly of a harmless description, before she arrived at the age of seventeen, when she threw in her future with Mr. Joseph Clarke, the hopeful son of a wealthy builder and contractor in Snow Hill. After a union of many years, during which she had experienced various vicissitudes, we find that the misconduct of her husband, who seems, on the whole--from the accounts of some of his contemporaries--to have done his best to deserve the treatment he received, although there are two sides to this story, determined the fascinating Mary Ann to trust to her own resources for support. During her tenure of the 'neutral territory,' the name of more than one gentleman of gallant reputation and of rank was coupled with her own; but passing over the list of her admirers, we must mention a certain Mr. Dowler (whose name occurred frequently during the investigation), who seems to have had more faithful regard for the lady than her other doubtful lights of love. Mrs. Clarke further became ambitious of shining on a larger scale, and she had the honour of appearing on the boards of the Haymarket Theatre in the character of Portia. Great praise was awarded her performance; her natural abilities, with a certain vivacity, added to a well modulated voice and graceful action, were sufficient to qualify her for a successful actress; but she felt that her proper stage was the world, and she merely secured her introduction to the histrionic profession as an experiment towards promoting the foundation of her future fortunes, and her object in this regard seems to have been secured and her plans were successfully realised. [13] _Minutes of Evidence_; and _Annual Register_, 1809. [14] Mr. Burton's defence. _Minutes of Evidence._ [15] _Gentleman's Magazine._ [16] Colonel Wardle had promised, or clearly given it to be understood by Mrs. Clarke, that he would furnish a house for her at Westbourne Place, in part payment for her services in the prosecution of the Duke of York. Colonel Wardle, afterwards finding it convenient to deny that he had come under any such obligation, was sued at law by an upholsterer who had furnished the house; and, on the evidence of Mrs. Clarke and the upholsterer's brother, obliged to pay about 2000_l._, with costs. The day after judgment was given in this cause, Colonel Wardle published, in several newspapers, a note addressed to the people of the three kingdoms, declaring before God and his country that a verdict had been obtained against him only through perjury. During the progress of the trial, the colonel had written to his men of law again and again, desiring that Major Dodd, Mr. James Glennie, heretofore of the corps of engineers, and other respectable witnesses, should be examined; but the lawyers thought this unnecessary. The evidence of Mrs. Clarke, and of the brother of the upholsterer, on oath, would be overthrown by that of the respectable witnesses whom he had to bring forward on a second trial for which he had made application. But if so, what is to be thought of the evidence of Mrs. Clarke against the Duke of York?--_Annual Register_, 1809. [17] March 23, 1809.--The Speaker put the question: 'That it is the opinion of this House that General Clavering in the said evidence is guilty of prevarication,' which was agreed to without a division; and General Clavering was ordered to be forthwith taken into the custody of the Serjeant-at-Arms. March 24.--The Serjeant-at-Arms, having reported that General Clavering was in custody, Mr. W. Wynne moved, 'That, for his prevarication before the Committee of the whole House, General Clavering be now committed to Newgate, and the speaker do issue his warrant accordingly;' which was agreed to. March 27.--Mr. Fane presented a petition from Captain Sandon, which, after stating his services in the army for upwards of thirty years in various parts of the globe, concludes with apologising for his conduct at the Bar of that House, by attributing it to the hardships he had recently undergone in Spain, combined with an injury sustained on the brain some time since, and the novelty of his situation when called on to give evidence. March 28.--On the motion of Mr. Fane, Captain Huxley Sandon was called to the Bar; and, after a very impressive reprimand from Mr. Speaker, was ordered to be discharged out of custody on paying the fees. [18] Sometimes the word 'York' is erased from the plate 'Transforming a Footboy into a Captain.' [19] During the Parliamentary enquiry Mrs. Clarke appeared at the Bar of the House dressed in a pelisse and skirt of light blue silk, trimmed with white fur, with a white muff, and wearing a hat and veil of white, the latter turned up to show her face. Her features are described as more pleasing than handsome, according to recognised standards of regular types of countenance. Her complexion was remarkably clear and animated; and her eyes, which were blue, were large and full of light and vivacity. She was somewhat small in stature, her figure was well turned; and as her arms were much admired for their shapely form, she was partial to attitudes which showed them off to advantage. [20] The Duke of York was reinstated in the office of Commander-in-Chief, May 26, 1811. [21] Townshend, the Bow Street Runner. 1810. _March 30, 1810._ _The Winding up of the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition._--The members of the Medical Board are standing in the stocks; on the green, in front of the sign of _The Goose_, which is surrounded with stores for the Walcheren Expedition, are laid the bodies of various sufferers, 'sent home for inspection.' The nature of the stores is somewhat exceptional. A case of champagne, marked 'Chelsea Hospital,' innumerable barrels of port and claret, marked 'T.K., for the hospital and for home consumption.' Barrels of porter, bales of cobwebs, and oak bark, 'charms for the cure of agues,' tincture of arsenic, and bottles of gin. _April 12, 1810._ _Libel Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press._ Published by T. Tegg (4).--A committee of the _Rotten Borough Society, established in 1810_ (Gibery Vixe, president; Leatherbreech, vice), is met to consider the licence of the press, to bring all their faculties to bear for the detection of any lurking evidences of libel or treason. The President is reading aloud, with the assistance of a magnifying glass to enlarge any suspicious paragraphs; the members of the committee are all on the _qui vive_ to note any libellous allusions. Cobbett's _Register_ is under examination, _Magna Charta_ is trodden under foot, and the _Bill of Rights_ is thrown on one side. From the papers pasted as memoranda on the wall we are informed that 'Sir Francis Burdett is committed to the Tower;' that '_The Morning Chronicle_ knows no bounds and must be checked;' that 'Enquiries into the expedition to Walcheren be voted treasonable;' 'That the _Statesman_ must beware,' and 'A watchful eye be kept on the _Examiner_;' A 'Black list of those who vote in the minority,' &c.; 'A view of the Tower,' and 'Instructions to the Keeper of Newgate,' are among the notices put up for attention. _April 20, 1810._ _A New Tap Wanted._ Published by T. Tegg. [Illustration: A NEW TAP WANTED.] _April 26, 1810._ _The Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower._ Tegg's caricatures (8).--Sir Francis Burdett, while confined within the Tower, is signalising his prowess by the slaughter of a brace of the 'Caterpillars of the State;' like the infant Hercules, he is taking the dealers in corruption by the neck and throttling them. One of the beefeaters is enjoying the spectacle, crying, 'Bless him, I say; he's a rum un.' Over the portcullis of the Tower gate is an escutcheon representing the 'British Lion roused.' On one side of the postern is an apposite quotation from Shakespeare:-- This dear, dear land-- Dear for her reputation through the world-- Is now leas'd out ... Like to a tenement, or pelting farm; England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds.'--_Richard II._ An extract from the Liberal Baronet's own speech is posted on the other side:-- From this foul and traitorous traffic our Boroughmonger Sovereigns derive an immense revenue, cruelly wrung from the hard hand of honest labour. I do, however, now entertain an ardent hope that this degraded and degrading system, to which all our difficulties, grievances, and dangers are owing, will at length give way to the moderate but determined perseverance of a whole united people.--SIR FRANCIS BURDETT. One of the boroughmongering crew is already demolished; by his side, on the ground, are two money-bags, 'Rapine,' and 'Drainings from the hard hand of the industrious poor.' Of the twin wretches who are being strangled without mercy at the hands of Sir Francis Burdett one has in his pocket 'Barrow (borough?), in Cornwall, bought and sold; apply to----;' two money-bags, 'Extortion money,' and 'Bribery and Corruption bag,' are dropping from his hands; while in the pocket of the other nefarious agent may be seen 'Rotten borough to be disposed of.' _May 1, 1810._ _Views of the Colleges. Front View of Christ Church, Oxford._ _May, 1810._ _Emmanuel College Garden, Cambridge._ _May, 1810._ _Emmanuel College, Cambridge._ (A nobleman presenting busts.) Published by R. Ackermann. _May, 1810._ _St. Mary's Church. Radcliffe Library._ Published by R. Ackermann. _May, 1810._ _Inside of the Public Library, Cambridge._ Published by R. Ackermann. 'Rowlandson's views in Oxford and Cambridge, 1810, deserve notice for the slight and pleasing manner with which he has characterised the architecture of the places mentioned; but it is impossible to surpass the originality of his figures. The dance of students and _filles de joie_ before Christ Church College is highly humorous, and the enraged tutors grin with anger peculiar to this artist's pencil. The professors in the view of the Observatory at Oxford are made as ugly as baboons, and yet the profundity of knowledge they possess is conspicuous at the first glance, and we should know them to be Masters of Arts without the aid of a background. The scene in Emmanuel College garden, Cambridge, exhibits the learned in a state of relaxation; several handsome lasses remove apples from a tree, and the indolent curiosity with which they are viewed by these sons of ease is very characteristic.'--_Malcolm's 'History of Caricature.'_ [Illustration: FRONT VIEW OF CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD.] _May 5, 1810._ _A Bait for Kiddies on the North Road, or that's your sort--prime, bang up to the mark._ Tegg's caricatures (12).--The widow Casey's hotel offers 'genteel accommodation' on the road to 'York Races.' The prudent widow has supplemented the attractions of her house by engaging a handsome and buxom maid, who is attached to the inn as a decoy for the 'sprigs of fashion' who may happen to be driving on the North Road. The charioteer of a four-in-hand, a 'dashing blade,' made up in correct coaching style--voluminous necktie, coat down to his heels, and capes innumerable--has called for a bowl of punch, and is standing in the doorway, stroking the redundantly developed waitress under the chin. [Illustration: KISSING FOR LOVE.] _May 10, 1810._ _Kissing for Love, or Captain Careless shot flying by a girl of fifteen, who unexpectedly put her head out of a casement._ _May 10, 1810._ _Easterly Winds, or Scudding under Bare Poles._ Published by T. Tegg (2).--One of the landing stairs on the river. A gale is blowing, and the boats are dancing about. The watermen are pulling a skiff to the stairs; at the same moment a breeze is blowing off a parson's wig and hat, and carrying away his fair companion's parasol, bonnet, &c. The landing steps show a succession of disasters, an ascending flight of hats, caps, and wigs, of which the astonished wearers are suddenly denuded. _May 15, 1810._ _Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor Playing at Bo-peep._ Tegg's caricatures (16).--The new Empress is in a fierce passion, wreaking her vengeance on all around; Talleyrand is levelled with the floor by a blow from the sceptre; he is crying, 'Be Gar, she will give us all de finishing stroke.' A marshal is seeking refuge behind the curtains and declaring: 'Marbleu, vat a crown-cracker she be!' The little Emperor is dodging behind an armchair, beseeching his stricken prime minister, 'Tally, Tally,' to 'rise and rally.' The Empress is threatening to hurl the Imperial crown at her intimidated lord and master, protesting, 'By the Head of Jove, I hate him worse than famine or disease. Perish his family! let inveterate hate commence between our houses from this moment, and meeting, never let them bloodless part.' The coronation throne has the crown knocked off; and, kicked on the floor by this untamable Austrian, are all the conquered diadems of Europe, including the Pope's tiara and the iron crown of Italy. _May 15. 1810._ _A Bonnet Shop._ Rowlandson del. Tegg's collection (17).--This plate is best described from the advertisement of the proprietress, displayed on her premises, for the manufacture of the straw bonnets and hats which were the _mode_ at the beginning of the century: 'Miss Flimsey's fashionable warehouse; the greatest variety of straw hats and bonnets made up in the most elegant taste. A large stock of Spanish, Flemish, Provincial, Gipsy, Cottage, Woodland, &c., &c., adapted to show every feature to advantage.' An old fright is trying on an unbecoming straw-bonnet at a mirror, while a handsome saleswoman is puffing her wares. A number of pretty apprentices are trimming hats, and an antiquated quiz, with his spyglass, is poking his head through the window, and saluting the bevy of beauties with a satyr-like grin. '_Miseries à la Mode._--The being over-persuaded by a canting shopwoman, in endeavouring to puff off a stale article, that it is the most becoming and suitable to your style of features; but on consulting your friends and acquaintance they pronounce it the most frightful, hideous, and unfashionably formed thing--that would disgrace Cranbourne Alley.' _May 20, 1810._ _Peter Plumb's Diary._ Published by T. Tegg (18).--The picture represents the drawing-room of a 'warm citizen,' evidently 'worth a plum.' The corpulent master of the house and the no less well-favoured partner of his bosom are seated before a capital fire; the comfortable couple have drunk their port and supped their punch, of which a capacious bowl is ready to hand on a table between them; the host has smoked a whiff of 'Turkey' and then dropped off to sleep in his armchair; his wife has followed his example; and a fat poodle, snugly laid on a soft cushion before the fender, is dozing luxuriously; the motto of the house is written over the mantel: 'Eating, drinking, and sleeping, with the generality of people, form the three important articles of life.' The blooming daughter, a melting young damsel, has her own creed on the subject. An opportunity is offered for a little flirtation; a gallant and good-looking young buck is saluting her with a tender embrace; the pair have sat down to perform _duetto prestissimo_, but the swain's flute is discarded, and the fair pianist is negligently touching the keyboard to a lively air, _Lucy's Delight_, while the flirtation is proceeding undisturbed by the presence of the slumbering parents. Peter Plumb is a desirable father-in-law, and his commercial interests are set forth in 'a view of Wapping Docks,' and a plan, suspended on rollers, for the 'new improvement of the Cattle Market in Smithfield.' The existence of the sleeper would appear an easy one; witness the extract from _Peter Plumb's Diary_. This honest man being of greater consequence in his own thoughts than 'in the eye of the world,' had for some years past kept a journal of his life. _Videlicet_, the following exciting example:-- '_Monday._--Eight o'clock: I put on my clothes, washed hands and face. Nine o'clock: Tied my knee-strings, put on my double-soled shoes, took a walk to Islington. One o'clock: Took a luncheon. Between two and three returned. Dined on a knuckle of veal and bacon. Three: Nap as usual. Four to six: Walked in the fields. Wind S.S.E. From six to ten: Went to the club; was half-an-hour before anybody else came. Ten at night: Went to bed. Slept without waking till nine next morning. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday: Little or no variation.' _May 30, 1810._ _A Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris._ (20).--The _Table d'Hôte_ is an appropriate companion to the _Paris Diligence_. The travellers have duly reached the capital, and a scene of Parisian life is shown on their arrival in the French metropolis. The _salle à manger_, where the ordinary is held, is a handsome apartment, decorated in showy taste with enrichments in plaster, canopies, curtains, mirrors, &c. The repast is in active course, and its humours are improved on with an observant eye. The company is diversified; there are _bourgeois_ and their wives, _petits-maîtres_, marquises, fat friars, and ladies of various degrees, all complaisance and graciousness. A Savoyard, with a hurdy-gurdy, and her daughter, with a triangle, are 'discoursing sweet sounds' to enliven the repast. A dog is taught to beg for food. The manners of the feeders are of different shades. Pledging toasts, flirtations, and small gallantries animate the severer business of the hour. Several whimsical accidents are introduced, results of awkward or inattentive service on the part of waiters; one grave citizen is receiving a scalding _bouillon_ in his eye, while a _bouilli_ is simultaneously poured over a bowing dandy; a glass of wine is capsized into a lady's plate while her attention is diverted; and a piggish priest, whose soup is suffered to stream down the corners of his fat jowl, has his shaven pate saluted by a cascade from a bottle tilted up by a heedless fair _domestique_, whose regards are engaged by the pleasantries of an amorous old fogey by her side, with whom she is exchanging jocularities. 1810 (?). _Paris Diligence._ Rowlandson del. et sculp. Published by T. Tegg.--This print is one of a class somewhat superior to the average series published in Cheapside. The scene is a favourite one with the artist, and his early experiences in France here serve him in valuable stead. It is in pictures of Continental life, before the aspects of the quaint and picturesque surroundings were entirely transmogrified by the French Revolution, that we recognise Rowlandson at his best. The value of these sketches is perhaps greater than of any other works his facile hand has bequeathed us, and the interest of these subjects is found to appeal to a larger circle of admirers. The _diligence_ is starting from a massively built and handsome innyard, the sign of the _Coq en Pâte_. The 'machine' is a cumbersome vehicle, clumsy and heavy to an incredible degree. It is drawn--at no rapid pace, it is certain--by four strong, long, ill-favoured steeds, harnessed with ropes to the Noah's Ark-like contrivance, and ridden by two postilions, who are cracking their long thonged whips without producing much acceleration of speed in the toiling team. The timber of the diligence would be heavy for a gun-carriage, and the construction of the entire concern is perfectly primitive. A huge basket in front, about the size of a porter's lodge, is presumably the 'luggage boot;' below this are two small and heavy wheels, while at the other end of the machine are two enormous hind-wheels. The elongated body of the vehicle seems also to be made of rough basket-work. Through the unglazed spaces for windows are seen the occupants, who are travelling Pariswards: an assortment of corpulent and shaven monks, peasant women, and an old veteran with a formidable pigtail; a fashionable lady in feathers is ogling a beau wearing a powdered wig and enormous _solitaire_. The roof itself is also loaded; another fat friar, with shaven poll, is reading his book, over which is peeping a _débonnaire_ damsel of redundant charms, who is flirting a gigantic fan; an officer, with an enormous cocked-hat and a massive club, has his hands in a muff of pantomimic magnitude; by his side is a lively _grisette_, with a parasol; another officer is reclining behind. The _diligence_ is attended by the usual mendicants, vociferously appealing for alms. The background is a quaint French town of some importance; a jack-booted rider is clattering along in the rear of a travelling-carriage, which is posting to the capital, driven by a postilion. Down the street is shown a procession of well-fed friars; and a party of devout nuns are striking attitudes at the foot of a carved figure. The whole picture recalls the precise aspect France wore at the time Sterne made his famous 'Sentimental Journey,' and the scene might well be a chapter from that picturesque pilgrimage. _June 4, 1810._ _Love and Dust._ Published by T. Tegg. Republished. (See 1799.) _June 5, 1810._ _Boxing Match for Two Hundred Guineas betwixt Dutch Sam and Medley, fought May 31, 1810, on Moulsey Hurst, near Hampton._ Published by T. Tegg. Tegg's caricatures (22).--The artist has drawn the fight, judging from the appearance offered by the opponents, during the first round, while all was cool and scientific. The champions, stripped to the waist, are sparring round one another on guard; their seconds are eagerly following up the principals; the two bottle-holders are seated on the grass. The spectators, a very orderly company, according to the picture, are arranged on the grass in a wide circle, while beyond the amateurs on foot is a ring of vehicles, on the roofs of which are perched the more fashionable portion of the patrons of the Ring, amongst whom are seen some of the softer sex. 'The concourse of people exceeded anything we have ever witnessed. The spectators were computed at ten thousand. At one o'clock the champions entered the ring, and Sam had for his second Harry Lee, whilst Joe Ward officiated for Medley. After a severe and bloody contest of forty-nine rounds victory was decided in favour of Sam.' _August 8, 1810._ _Smuggling Out, or Starting from Gretna Green._ Rowlandson del. Schultz scul. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--A gallant officer is assisting a pretty and precocious boarding-school miss to elope from a balcony window; a post-chaise is waiting in readiness to carry the fugitives 'across the Border,' and a servant in attendance has secured the damsel's personal belongings in a portmanteau on his shoulders. _August 8, 1810._ _Smuggling In, or a College Trick._--The picture represents the corner of a college quadrangle. Three festive and mischievously disposed collegians appear at the window of their rooms; with the contrivance of a sling and a stout rope they are managing to draw up, clandestinely, as they fondly imagine, a pretty, modish, and, we fear, wanton maiden, who is not in the least terrified or abashed at her situation, but is entering into the spirit of the adventure. A frowning proctor, who is scandalised at these reprehensible irregularities, is standing in an angle, half-concealed in the shadow, scowling at the party, and waiting to dart out and surprise the violators of the academical proprieties at the critical moment for their detection. _September 8, 1810._ _Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate._ Published by T. Tegg (11).--A view of old Billingsgate, overlooking the river, with the fish being landed from the crowds of smacks at the old covered jetty, since swept away. The pilgrimage of the sturdy members of _The Cod Company_, we presume, is made to the craft on the river to take in cargoes of fish. The procession is composed of corpulent old Irish women, of colossal breadth and strength, all balancing their fish-baskets on their heads, some smoking their cherished clay pipes, and carrying their stoutly developed arms crossed, akimbo, or on their hips, after their individual proclivities. _September 25, 1810._ _Rigging out a Smuggler._ Published by T. Tegg (8).--A party of sailors in a cabin are fitting out a handsome young creature to 'run the gauntlet' of the Custom-house officers, or rather to go on shore, with as full a cargo of excisable articles as they can secure round her person. Huge pockets of 'old Japan china, tea, gum,' &c. are disposed round her waist, together with a small keg of 'coniac,' and a flagon of otto of roses. Chests of Congou and Souchon and flasks of arrack are standings about. _September 30, 1810._ _Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal._ Published by T. Tegg (10).--The intention of this burlesque is a pun on _dram-atic_; the theatrical demireps being very ungallantly displayed in the Hundreds of Drury, inhabiting an attic, and indulging in matutinal potations of gin. The surroundings do not give a very cultivated idea of the actresses or their belongings. _The Chapter of Accidents_ seems to be the piece in rehearsal. The toilettes of the fair performers are shockingly neglected. Over the mantelpiece are various professional announcements 'for the benefit of the Theatrical Fund,' &c. By the side of an '_À la mode_ beef jug' is a melon marked 'Ripe--rotten,' and other ironical allusions to current scandals and personages then well recognised are posted on the walls, as sketches for portraits: _Peg and the Duke_, _Bald as a Coote_, _Little Darby O! Ever Craving_, and _Old Q._, and various innuendoes hardly flattering to the originals indicated. _October 5, 1810._ _Sports of a Country Fair._ Part the First. Published by T. Tegg.--The bustling picture of a country fair in full operation. In the rear are swings, booths, and theatrical shows. In the foreground is shown a cart overset; a man is holding on to the head of the horse, which in rearing has snapped his girths and tilted the cart on end, while the late occupants are thrown down in motley confusion, sprawling on the turf, pommelling, kicking, shrieking, and throwing up their limbs, while eager groups of spectators are hurrying up to enjoy the disaster. _October 5, 1810._ _Sports of a Country Fair._ Part the Second.--A nearer view of the same fair: the thick of the crowd; stick-throwing for snuffboxes, oyster-opening, pocket-picking, and a round-about swing; one of the boats is giving way, and a fair swinger and her swain are falling through. There is an inn where cordials are supplied, through the windows of which various scenes of love-making are visible. In the distance may be seen Polito's stage-booths, horse-racing, and other diversions. _October, 1810._ _Sports of a Country Fair._ Part the Third. Published by T. Tegg.--The interior of another booth-theatre; the play is interrupted; the only performer on the stage is thrown into consternation, and the whole of the audience are dispersing in terror at an unexpected intruder. A royal Bengal tiger has made his escape from an adjoining show, and is bounding through the canvas walls of the theatrical booth, threatening to descend plump into the auditorium. The effect on the frightened playgoers may be well imagined. Some are prostrate with terror; one man is down on his knees and cannot move for fright; ladies are fainting; husbands are manfully endeavouring to carry off their wives out of the way of the terrible visitor, and everything is turned topsy-turvy. 1810. _Sports of a Country Fair._--The sport in this case is accidental, and the amusement verges on peril of a terrible character. A temporary theatre, _Cockburn's Company_, is on fire, and the spectators are escaping as best they may. The entrance is from a balcony reached by a flight of steps, and the frightened spectators are pouring out of the building, which is burning furiously, and throwing themselves pellmell down the steps, at the bottom of which they are sprawling, kicking, and plunging in fright and confusion. Certain buxom damsels are climbing over the balustrade and dropping from the balcony, with the musicians, into the arms of those below. A bill on the booth announces the _Last Night, Pizarro_ and _Don Juan, A Shower of Real Fire_, and _A View of the Infernal Regions_. Crowds are scudding away in the distance, and the other attractions of the fair are at a standstill. _October 25, 1810._ _An Old Ewe Drest Lamb Fashion._ Published by T. Tegg. A deceptive old tabby, clad in a juvenile style, is dashing along in a high poke-bonnet; three or four Don Juans of eccentric exterior are hurrying after her to tender their attentions, an act of gallantry they are likely to regret on closer inspection. The quotation offered as _A Misery of Human Life_ runs thus: 'Walking fast and far to overtake a woman from whose shape and air as viewed _en derrière_ you have decided that her face is angelic, till, on eagerly turning round as you pass her, you are petrified by a Gorgon.' [Illustration: SPITFIRES.] _October 25, 1810._ _Spitfires._ Published by T. Tegg (44). _October 25, 1810._ _Dropsy Courting Consumption._ Published by T. Tegg (45).--Outside a building marked _Mausoleum_--a dwarf rotunda beside a slender column--kneels a round ball of a suitor, who, it would seem, is destined never to recover his perpendicular; he is suing at the feet of an attenuated nymph, of straight and bony proportions, who it appears is in the last stage of wasting away. In the grounds a corpulent lady and a declining-looking gentleman of the Laurence Sterne type are contemplating a statue of Hercules. _November 1, 1810._ _Doctor Gallipot placing his Fortune at the feet of his Mistress._ 'Throw physic to the dogs.' Republished. (See 1808.) _November 1, 1810._ _Kitchen Stuff._ Published by T. Tegg (43).--A scene of low life below stairs. A fire is roaring up the kitchen grate, and a fat old cook, slumbering in an armchair drawn up to the kitchen table, has her feet resting on the chimneypiece, and a glass of 'cherry bounce' held in her chubby hand, to refresh her after the exertions of the day. A younger and proportionately comely and comfortable-looking kitchen-maid is also stealing 'forty winks,' with her head resting against the chimneypiece; while a fat black footman, who completes this evidently easy-going household, is indulging in the luxury of repose and pillowing his slumbering woolly pate on the ample shoulders of his shapely neighbour. [Illustration: A HIT AT BACKGAMMON.] _November 19, 1810._ _A Hit at Backgammon._ Published by T. Tegg (No. 46). _November 20, 1810._ _Medical Despatch, or Doctor Doubledose Killing Two Birds with One Stone._ Published by T. Tegg (47).--Reclining back in an armchair is an old invalid lady, evidently at the last gasp; her end is made still more certain by opium and composing draughts placed ready to her hand. On the armchair of the ghastly sufferer leans a pretty buxom girl in the flush of womanhood, who is wavering between grief and rapture--tears for her departing relative and regard for the caresses of the practitioner, who is dismissing his patient and courting a bride at the same moment. While one hand of the perfidious Doctor is carelessly holding the pulse of the sinking woman his arm is thrown round the neck of the blooming maiden, his fat features are expressive of maudlin tenderness, and his eyes are turned upwards in awkward admiration. _November 20, 1810._ _Bath Races._ Published by T. Tegg (49).--The race appropriately starts from 'Cripple's Corner;' the halt, the maimed, and the lame are the competitors; it is, in fact, a race of Bath chairs and crutches, all tearing and tumbling down hill and blowing in the wind; the gouty hangers behind being urged forward, pushed, whipped, and cheered on by the delighted spectators. The city of Bath is slightly indicated in the rear. _November 30, 1810._ _Doctor Drainbarrel conveyed Home in a Wheelbarrow, in order to take his Trial for Neglect of Family Duty._ Published by T. Tegg (23). [Illustration: DR. DRAINBARREL CONVEYED HOME IN A WHEELBARROW.] _November 30, 1810._ _After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce, or Corporal Cazey got into the Wrong Box._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (24).--The Corporal has incautiously been paying a secret visit to a fine, plump and well-favoured damsel, on whose affections, it would seem, the man of war has no legitimate claim. The lady is snugly disposing her lover in a strong-box, with iron clamps, probably the sea-chest of the lawful proprietor of the chamber. Before closing the lid on the captive swain the buxom maid, at whose waist hangs the key of the chest, is favouring the suitor with a parting kiss. An old 'salt,' his few remaining hairs bristling with indignation and resentment, is looking in at the window and surveying the entire transaction before making his entrance on the scene. That the Corporal has fairly got into the 'wrong box' is further hinted by a trap at his side, in which an unfortunate rat is securely imprisoned. 1810. _The Harmonic Society. 'The Assemblies of women are too frequently marked by malice to each other, and slander of the absent; the meetings of men by noise, inebriety, and wrangling.'_--A companion scene to _The Breaking up of a Blue Stocking Club_ (March 1, 1815). The direst disorder, according to the plate, is proceeding around on all sides: the conflict of fists, aided by such aggressive articles as bottles, the fireirons, and any offensive weapon that may come to hand, is raging free and furious. The president of this _harmonic meeting_ is very naturally employing his hammer to bring the turbulent to order, by using it as an instrument to knock down his opponents. Wigs are sent flying 'through space,' chairs are wrecked; decanters, spirit-bottles, punchbowls, and such frail objects as tumblers, rummers, and wine-glasses, are involved in universal destruction. One elated youthful hero has jumped on the table in a tipsy frolic; he is promoting the further confusion which darkness will entail by deliberately smashing up the candles, and battering the sconces of the chandelier with the assistance of a punch-ladle. 1810. _The Sign of the Four Alls._--The four personages who constitute this famous view of the relative estates of the realm stand under niches; the head of the State is the first represented; and next, of course, is the Church; then the powers militant; and lastly, as a sort of necessary evil, the commonalty--perhaps better kept out of sight altogether, since the presence of the representative of this portion of the empire is not acknowledged by the other three, his pastors and masters. Number one, George the Third; the King in this case is represented strutting in awful but somewhat awkward majesty. To quote a national but lowly authority, Giles Grinagain:-- What! he the King? Why, that chap there? Why, I saw a king at Bartholomew Fair More like a king than that chap there! The Bishop, a snug ecclesiastic, a remnant possibly of the bad old school of the Clarke preferments, all wig, lawn sleeves, mitre, and crozier, is raising his fat hands with sanctimonious import--'I pray for all.' As to the soldier, the military officer drawn by Rowlandson rather reminds one of Colonel Wardle, whose person the caricaturist had made a little too familiar--'I fight for all;' and lastly comes John Bull, under his agricultural aspect, a simple farmer, with his smock, hay-fork, and dog, and, what is more to the purpose, his bag of 'hard earnings' in his hand, on the strength of which he is admitted to join the quartette--on sufferance, it is palpable--'I pay for all!'[22] 1810 (?). _The Rabbit Merchant._ Published by T. Tegg (25).--The view of a country street; a rabbit seller, with a selection of his stock on his pole, is offering a choice to an old dame, who is somewhat hypercritical, and is employing a test which the rabbit merchant considers excessive and uncalled for; he is represented as offering 'the retort courteous' in justification of his goods. 1810 (?). _A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies._--Although, as we have noticed, Rowlandson's work was stamped by the strongest originality, he, like other etchers of caricatures, often executed the ideas or worked out the first impressions of less experienced draughtsmen; however, unlike most engravers, he has left, in his numerous plates after Wigstead, Woodward, Bunbury, Nixon, Newton, &c. (in all cases the name of the originator is given), but slight traces of the defects and shortcomings of the amateur artists whose sketches he has put into circulation, the major part of the engravings bearing unmistakable and easily recognised evidence of Rowlandson's individuality. In the case of the present caricature he has, in some degree, departed from this practice, probably at the desire of the publisher of the print, and has gone to Gillray's large and spirited plate entitled _A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies_ for the materials of his version of the same subject. It is noticeable, however, that while he has, in a free-handed manner, preserved the chief points and indeed most of the figures of the original (published March 16, 1786), he has forborne to put his own name to the copy. It is probable that the original version was, at the date of the smaller copy, in demand and difficult to purchase, and, to satisfy the requirements of both publishers and public, Rowlandson has etched this second edition of his friend's plate, Gillray having unhappily lost his reason at the date of the republication. The scene is supposed to be drawn from one of the landing-places in the East Indies. A merchantman has arrived with a cargo which has proved a source of excitement and attraction to residents of all classes. The fair sex being in great apparent request, a shipload of English beauties on arriving in the East would naturally produce commotion and competition among natives and foreigners alike. A dapper auctioneer is mounted on a bale of books lately arrived, a similar package forms his desk, and he is knocking down a very attractive article, which seems likely to bring a handsome figure. A fine tall beauty is under the scrutiny of a rich Nabob; a young officer is trying to win her ear, and an envoy from the Government, with instructions in his pocket from the Governor-General, is calculating the lady's height with his walking-stick held as a measure. Similar incidents are represented around; the Rajahs are inspecting the latest importations with true merchant-like caution; sundry bargains have already been secured, and in the scales is shown a method of approximating valuations; a well-favoured arrival of the florid and fully developed type is set against a corresponding weight of 'lacs of rupees.' In the background is pictured a large warehouse for 'unsaleable goods from Europe--to be returned by the next ship'--and several damsels are in great distress at being forced to take refuge within this unpopular establishment. 1810. _A Parody on Milton._ Published by T. Tegg. On she came--such as I saw her in my dream. Grace was in all her steps--heaven in her eye; In every gesture dignity and love.--MILTON. A slipshod and tailorlike-looking old scarecrow, with spectacles on nose, and wearing a scarlet nightcap, is viewing with idiotic rapture the advent of a fat, inebriated, and dishevelled bacchante of mature charms, who, with a decanter in one hand and a glass in the other, is staggering into the chamber, to the amusement of a pretty servant-maid outside. The ancient dotard is making a parody on the quotation: 'On she came--such as I saw her in my dream. _Grease_ was in all her steps--Geneva in her hand; and every gesture reeling ripe for fun!' _Circa 1810._ _Cries of London._ Thirty plates. 1810. S. Butler. _Hudibras._ With illustrations after W. Hogarth, engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. Republished. T. Tegg. (See 1809.) FOOTNOTE: [22] The satirical humours of this sign, which dates back from a recondite period, find a place in Larwood's valuable _History of Signboards_, who gives us further particulars from his own exhaustive researches. 'In Holland, in the seventeenth century, it was used, but the king was left out, and a lawyer added. Each person said exactly the same as our signboards, but the farmer answered:-- You may fight, you may pray, you may plead, But I am the farmer who lays the eggs-- _i.e._ finds the money. 'This enumeration of the various performances coupled with the word _all_ has been used in numerous different epigrams; an address to James the First, in the Ashmolean MSS., No. 1730, has:- _The Lords_ craveth all, _The Queene_ granteth all, _The Ladies_ of honour ruleth all, _The Lord-Keeper_ sealed all, _The Intelligencer_ marred all, _The Parliament_ pass'd all, _He that is gone_ opposed himself to all, _The Bishops_ soothed all, _The Judges_ pardoned all, _The Lords_ buy, Rome spoil'd all, Now, _Good King_, mend all, Or else _The Devil_ will have all. 'This again seems to have been imitated from a similar description of the state of Spain in Greene's _Spanish Masquerade_, 1589:-- _The Cardinals_ solicit all, _The King_ grauntes all, _The Nobles_ confirm all, _The Pope_ determines all, _The Clergie_ disposeth all, _The Duke of Medina_ hopes for all, _Alonzo_ receives all, _The Indians_ minister all, _The Soldiers_ eat all, _The People_ paie all, _The Monks and Friars_ consume all, And _the Devil_ at length will carry away all.' 1811. _January 18, 1811._ _College Pranks, or Crabbed Fellows Taught to Caper on the Slack Rope._ Published by T. Tegg (53).--Two portly, and highly respectable Fellows of the University, proceeding along their quadrangle, are assailed with a rough practical joke by a party of unruly young undergraduates; a rope is being suddenly lifted up with a hearty good-will by a riotous mob at either end, and the astonished 'dons' are tripped up and turned over like turtles on a memorial-stone--'Here lies the body of _Bishop Bleareyes_.' Squibs, squirts, and whips, in the hands of these disorderly students, are further contributing to the annoyance of the capsized magnates. _February, 1811._ _A Sleepy Congregation._ Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg (54).--The interior of a parish church. Of the occupants of a family-pew in the foreground the elders are sleeping, while a fair young worshipper's thoughts are evidently wandering; the attentions of one or two buckish youths, seated in the vicinity, seem to be centred on the lady; the clerk is snoring at his desk, regardless of the podgy and somewhat excited preacher over his head, who is quite absorbed in his sermon, which does not seem to interest anyone but the deliverer. _February 12, 1811._ _A Midwife going to a Labour._ Tegg's Caricatures (55).--The stout old nurse, a body of balloon-like expansiveness, is hurrying off, summoned to her duties, at an unearthly hour of the morning. Her head-gear is flowing about in the wind, her hood and cape are caught by the gale; a lantern is held in one hand, a brandy-bottle and a bundle, containing her luggage, are cuddled up in the other, and she is mounted on pattens. The night-watchman is dozing in his box, and a shivering chimney-sweeping lad is crouching along to his early toil, with brushes and bags. _February 16, 1811._ _The Gig-Shop, or Kicking up a Breeze at Nell Hamilton's Hop._ Published by T. Tegg.--According to the picture of this place of 'fast' resort, dancing has given way to much rougher diversions, and, although the musicians are in their gallery, playing away as if the scene below was the regular thing, the place appropriated for the dance is given up to a _mill_ conducted on strikingly professional principles; one of the combatants has 'peeled' in recognised style, and his opponent has stripped to his shirt; the backers and seconders of the fisticuffing bucks (who are freely besprinkled with the ruby fluid) are members of the fair sex; in fact, ladies seem in the ascendant at this entertainment. A ring of delighted spectators are enjoying the fight and the fun from the benches, while other gentlemen are prudently engaged in restraining their fair partners from getting mixed up in the squabble which is raging fast and furious, thick and general, behind the two 'milling' gentlemen; ladies using their fists manfully, kicking, tearing hair, and throwing themselves into desperate warfare with terrific confusion and effect. In the foreground a fair nymph of interesting but dishevelled appearance, probably the _friend_ of one of the combatants, is falling into a fainting fit, from which the attentions of those who surround her seem inadequate to restore her to consciousness. [Illustration: PIGEON-HOLE.] _February 20, 1811._ _Pigeon Hole, a Covent Garden Contrivance to Coop the Gods._ Published by T. Tegg (57).--The miseries consequent on heat and crowding in a restricted space, as displayed in the Pigeon Hole Galleries of John Kemble's newly-constructed Drury Lane Theatre, gave rise to the present caricature, which is further explained under the head of _This is the House that Jack Built_ (Sept. 27, 1809), and _The Boxes_ (Dec. 12, 1809). General dissatisfaction was expressed by all but the privileged subscribers; the lessee's treatment of the humble supporters of the drama, the frequenters of the gallery, gave special offence; and the illiberality of the management which provided such disgraceful accommodation for its patrons was resented by the unruly proceedings known as the _O. P. Riots_, which marked the public sense of the transaction. _February 26, 1811._ _A French Dentist Showing a Specimen of his Artificial Teeth and False Palates._ Published by T. Tegg (58).--It is not easy to determine whether this caricature was intended solely as a satire or as an advertisement for some dental professor who was established here at the time. In Rowlandson's day, however, false teeth were sufficient novelties to be welcome subjects for ridicule. An overgrown and exuberantly corpulent female is serving as a sample of the Frenchman's skill; her widely distended mouth is liberally displaying a wonderful set of masticators. The professor is the typical foreigner of the period, wearing hair-powder, a bag-wig, and earrings. An old beau, looking through a quizzing-glass, is admiring the prospect of securing a decent set of teeth, his own gums exhibiting a very ragged and defective regiment. An advertisement in the rear sets forth: '_Mineral Teeth._--Monsieur De Charmant, from Paris, engages to affix from one tooth to a whole set, without pain. Monsieur D. can also affix an artificial palate or a glass eye in a manner peculiar to himself; he also distils, &c., &c.' _March, 1811._ _Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazen-Nose Broke Loose._ Published by T. Tegg (59).--The persons of learned members of the Universities were not treated with a sparing hand by the satirist. Rowlandson has introduced various incidents of college life into his caricatures; but, throughout the series, the waggishly-inclined artist does not, we are afraid, exhibit any particular respect for _Alma Mater_. The Fellows of Brasenose are drawn, with unusual unction, issuing from their Hall and through the archways of the Colleges, dressed in their academic guise, and pouring forth like a sable stream of erudition. The various expressions and attitudes of the 'big-wigs' are vastly well hit off; their diversified peculiarities of face or motion are full of comicality. These grave sons of the Church are not free from gallant considerations--a buxom wench, with a basket of fruit slung round her shapely neck, is the centre of attraction; the 'Bacon-faced Fellows' are crowded around, bargaining for her ware and leering at the seller with undisguised and clumsy admiration. A reflection is cast on the _Vice_-Chancellor, who is vainly endeavouring to steal into his apartments without being detected by the rest of the sly grinning Fellows, with a weighty folio under his arm, and followed by an engaging young fruiteress, a lump of rustic innocence, bearing her baskets, for better selection from the contents, to the seclusion of the Vice's study. _March 10, 1811._ _She Stoops to Conquer._ Published by T. Tegg (61).--The central room of a prison. Various strong doors and iron-grated windows open on the chamber. Bolts, padlocks, and strings of fetters indicate the nature of the security. Behind a grating is seen a prisoner, on whose behalf a buxom damsel is supposed to 'stoop to conquer,' since by dint of a plentiful repast, renewed strong potations, and those tender cajoleries which are believed to be the special weapons of the fair, the lady is evidently endeavouring to gain possession of the precious keys which will enable her to set her imprisoned swain at liberty. _March 12, 1811._ _The Anatomist._ Published by T. Tegg (60).--The meaning of this print is not very obvious. It may be assumed that Dr. Sawbones has secured a new subject; but whether an admirer of the anatomist's lady has had himself conveyed into her presence by simulating death, or changing places with the 'subject,' does not appear. However, the critical situation of the lively gentleman on trestles does not seem conducive to a tranquil frame of mind; the operator is deliberately getting out his saws, knives, scissors, and other repellent anatomical instruments in a business-like spirit, for he has, according to an announcement, to deliver _A Course of Anatomical Lectures, accompanied with Dissections_, and he is in want of a subject for demonstration. The lady, filled with the direst apprehensions, is trying to impress on the anatomist the remarkable and unusual fact that the dead man has returned to life. _March 16, 1811._ _Sailors on Horseback._ Published by T. Tegg (62).--This print is one of the numerous instances of subjects designed by amateurs and given to Rowlandson to engrave, and, in most respects, to put into shape. According to the humours of this print four sailors, mounted on horseback, are going off on an equestrian cruise by the seashore. The British Tar most at his ease has been lashed with strong cables to the back of his steed beyond a chance of drifting loose: 'Here I come, my hearties, right and tight--smart sailing; but never mind that--I can't be cast away, for my commander, Heavens bless him, has lashed me to the deck with some tough old cables!' His neighbour, who has a restive horse, requests, 'Keep more to the starboard, and be d---- to you; don't you see how you make my vessel run ahead!' A third, riding behind, is mounted on an animal who is taking into his head to launch out in the rear: 'D---- me, how she heaves; why, this is worse than a jolly-boat in the Bay of Biscay!' A comrade, having had a spill, has been left on the road, and is in danger of being run over: 'Mind what you are at, messmates, for I am upset, and the frigate I came on board of has been under way without me this half-hour.' _March 28, 1811._ _Kitty Careless in Quod, or Waiting for Jew Bail._ Published by T. Tegg (65).--A dashing young lady of fashion, who has evidently been running ahead of the constable, is 'laid by the heels' in a spunging-house; the apartment in which she is lodged belongs, it appears from a printed notice on the wall, to _MacNab, Sheriff's Officer for the County of Middlesex--genteel accommodation for ladies and gentlemen_. Heavy locks and bolts to the door, and massive bars to the window, indicate the security of Kitty's keeping. The fair captive does not seem depressed by her confinement: seated before a glowing fire, her legs crossed in easy indifference, the prisoner is drinking bumpers of port wine with her captors; a spectacle by no means unusual in the days of this publication, when the extravagances of people of fashion were constantly leading them to the confinement of a spunging-house. _April 1, 1811._ _Pastime in Portugal, or a Visit to the Nunneries._ Published by T. Tegg (64).--The principal figure in this picture is that of a young officer belonging to the British army opposed to the French legions on the Peninsula; in company with a Portuguese don he has come to visit one of the nunneries which were sufficiently abundant in the country; three well-favoured members of the sisterhood and a sour-looking old harridan, by way of duenna, have come to the 'grill,' or large grated window, which was employed to cut off the 'cloistered ones' from the rest of the world. We are able to gather from the illustrations of the period that travellers were accustomed to make visits to nunneries, where they purchased objects manufactured by the inmates, who were regarded by our countrymen as a kind of show; the visitors, however, were always restricted to the outside of the grating which separated the sisterhood from more intimate association with a wicked world. In Rowlandson's sketch the pretty nuns are offering silk purses, of their own knitting, to their dashing visitor, whose attention is more exclusively occupied by the very decided personal attractions of the fair recluses. _April 5, 1811._ _The Last Drop._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--A short and corpulent _bon-vivant_, not unlike a balloon in figure, whose waistband has been abnormally distended by the bibulous propensities of the owner, is standing on tiptoe tilting up to his eager lips a huge punchbowl, too well filled to be lifted bodily; he is transferring the contents to his own inside with much gusto. While the veteran and inordinate toper is greedily engulfing his last bumping measure he is too busily engaged in the important work in hand to notice that _Death_, in his bony personality as a ghastly skeleton, is helping to raise the finishing bowl, while the fatal dart is poised over his head, ready for the stroke which will follow this last potation before the tippler has time to recover his breath. The stout gentleman has evidently enjoyed a lengthy innings, and, from the instances scattered about him, he has made the most of his opportunities; he is surrounded by the remnants of the good and bad things with which he has made away--barrels of stout, bottles of port, puncheons of _usquebaugh_, and spirits of all sorts; in fact, a very cellar of the strong drinks which in his day have fallen to the share of the departing toper. _April 9, 1811._ _Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys._ Published by T. Tegg.--'Boneyparte,' in his general's uniform, is seated before the fire, making caudle--of French blood--for the infant prince; a row of sovereign-crowns, wrested from the wearers, are ranged on the mantelpiece. Napoleon's heir, the miniature of his sire, with the addition of a monkey's tail, is tearing and clawing at his parent, and is held on a cushion placed outside the Imperial cradle, which is inscribed _Devil's Darling_. Napoleon is haranguing in his usual grandiose style: 'Rejoice, ye Frenchmen; the fruits of my labour has produced a little image of myself. I shall, for the love I owe your country, instil in my noble offspring the same principles of lying, thieving, treachery, letchery, murder, and all other foul deeds, for which I am now worshipped and adored!' The Pope is kneeling by his side, and pronouncing by way of a benediction over the infant:-- The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sight; The night-crow cry'd, foreboding luckless time; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven rock'd her on the chimney-top, And chattering pies in dismal discord sung. _April 10, 1811._ _A Picture of Misery._ Published by T. Tegg (70).--The bare and chilling chamber is occupied by a leaden-hued and sordid-looking miser, opposite to whom is seated an individual of starved aspect; a pinched and shrivelled old beldame is seen at the door. A table of interest is the only literature the room can boast. The miser is crouching before the grate, and snuffing out the single candle for economy. Above the usurer hangs his own portrait; he is painted congenially occupied in weighing guineas; a list of securities, 'Stock Ex., Bank Stock, 3 per Cents., Imperial, Omnium, South Sea, Exchequer, Lottery,' &c., recalls sweet reflections. Below are the lines:-- Iron was his chest, iron was his door; His hand was iron, and his heart was more. _April 12, 1811._ _Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (71).--A dashing young damsel has secured the jack-boots, cocked-hat, and long sword of General Junot, and is assuming valiant airs, dressed in these borrowed plumes, and threatening the French commander--who is helpless and in bed--with his own weapons. _April 14, 1811._ _Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant, or Frenchmen Sick of the Breed._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Empress of the French is in consternation at the precocious fury of her progeny, who, with an orb in one hand and a dagger in the other, is threatening destruction around; while the Emperor is listening behind a curtain; the pope and other Roman-Catholic hierarchs are offering 'composing draughts,' and suggesting to send the infantine monster to his supposed diabolical 'grandpapa' as quickly as possible. The Empress is thus proclaiming the terrors of her situation: 'There's no condition sure so curst as mine! Day and night to dandle such a dragon--the little angry cur snarls while it feeds; see how the blood is settled in his scarecrow face; what brutal mischief sits upon his brow. Rage and vengeance sparkle in his cheeks; the very spawn and spit of its tyrant father. Nay, now I look again, he is the very picture of his grandfather, _the Devil_!' _April 20, 1811._ _The Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonsor._ Published by T. Tegg (67).--The picture represents the interior of a barber's shop, a favourite subject with the caricaturists. A stout customer is expressing slaughterous intentions; a choleric old boy, probably an officer of the Militia, with the shaving-cloth round his short neck, is vowing vengeance on the head of the frightened barber, who has been so _maladroit_ as to carve a tolerable gash in the veteran's round cheek. The tonsor's wife, who is also engaged in the business, is, while holding the soap-bowl and lather, thrown into consternation at the uproar raised by the damaged client. An assistant, who is employed in cutting the hair of another customer, is equally distracted, and, in his trepidation, is threatening the ears of his unconscious subject. The barber's monkey--for barbers have in all time enjoyed the credit of being fanciers of live stock--is lathering his head at a toilette-table, in imitation of the actions of a venerable personage who has just had his head shaved. Various blocks, with their attendant wigs, are ranged round the shelves of the shop, telling of the day when a gentleman's head of hair was sent out to be dressed, while he kept a change of wigs for convenience-sake; here we find parsons' blocks, clerks' blocks, doctors' blocks, lawyers' blocks, and other professional 'caxons,' the heads of the learned being distinguished by their respective wigs. Various sketches appear on the walls, the subjects being selected with a view to their trade appositeness. One picture represents the fate of Absalom, delivered to destruction by his luxuriant locks: 'O Absalom, my son, my son! hadst thou wore a wig this ne'er had happened,' &c., &c. _April 24, 1811._ _Rural Sports. Cat in a Bowl._ No. 1.--The pastimes of our forefathers, before the establishment of Humane Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, were too frequently of a barbarous description, and the cruelties then tolerated for mere sport were undoubtedly most reprehensible. The caricaturist has contrived to surround these wanton displays with an air of hilarity, and the spectacle of a 'cat in a bowl,' apart from the brutality of the fun, is not without its whimsical attractions. A favourite cat, the property of a distracted spinster, has been launched upon the water in a bowl, which is shown spinning round with the current, to the terror of the involuntary voyager, whose dread of immersion combined with her exertions to escape from this embarrassing situation, which threatens to capsize the treacherous craft at every turn, seem to afford the frivolous audience unqualified amusement. A lad is seated on the bank, with a girl by his side--probably the authors of the mischief--holding a barking dog, ready to attack the frightened creature if she comes too near the shore. Parties taking the air in chaises, and promenaders, the loiterers from the alehouse, pipe in hand, and various rustic groups gathered round the brink, are intensely diverted at the scene. Not so the owner of the cat; the horrified old maid, rendered desperate by the precarious situation of her pet, is pulling up her skirts and plunging forward in a vain endeavour to reach the slippery bowl, which is out of her reach; while a second old lady is doing her best to assist her friend. A little further down the bank the artist has introduced another reckless episode; a pair of horses are running away with a tandem, which is being overturned, and the driver and a stout female by his side are just on the point of being tumbled out without ceremony. _May 1, 1811._ _A Dog Fight._--There is a note on the proof impression of this plate in the writer's collection, to the effect that the print was never published. The spectacle represented is remarkably animated; the various incidents of the brutal exhibition are seized with a masterly hand; the enthusiasm and excitement of the audience are done full justice to. Drinking, betting, squabbling, an irregular scrimmage, picking of pockets, and similar humours are treated with due appreciation. The backers of the losing dog are thrown into dismay, as their faces sufficiently indicate; while the satisfaction which fills the supporters of the winning side is well expressed. The spirit of the picture is much increased by the introduction of numerous dogs, ferocious-looking 'varmints,' struggling to join the fray, and only held back from the stage of conflict by the most desperate exertions on the part of their owners; these combatively-minded animals are probably the heroes of coming tournays. The scene of this cruel sport, since made unlawful, is probably the 'Westminster pit,'[23] where such spectacles were constantly held, and attended by persons of rank and fashion, as well as by the dregs of the sporting and dog-fancying fraternities, whose presence, as shown in the study, is tolerably marked. [Illustration: A DOG FIGHT.] _May 1, 1811._ _Touch for Touch, or a Female Physician in Full Practice._--The figure of the fair practitioner is highly spirited,--a handsome young female, whose person is set off with all the allurements of fine clothes, well-dressed hair, and waving plumes. A decrepit and toothless patient is evidently grateful to the doctress; he is filling the hand of the distinguished physician with gold-pieces before she leaves the apartment, or more properly consulting-room, which is further set off with a picture of Danae collecting a shower of gold. _May 4, 1811._ _Who's Mistress Now?_ Republished. (See 1802.) _May 16, 1811._ _The Bassoon--with a French Horn Accompaniment._ Published by T. Tegg (75).--A couple of slumberers, with their noses elevated above the bedclothes, are evidently executing variations in a snoring fashion more powerful than pleasing:-- Hush ev'ry breeze; let nothing move: My Celia sleeps and dreams of love! _June 4, 1811._ _Summer Amusement. Bug Hunting._ _July. 1811._ _A Ghost in the Wine Cellar._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _July 14, 1811._ _Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt._ Designed, etched, and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The old Cockney hunt is in full swing; the hounds are streaming over some palings in the way of their run; a poor little huntsman, perched upon a white mare, in attempting the jump has lost his whip, missed his seat, and is being thrown over the neck of his horse; while a spirited belle is leaping her horse in true sportsmanlike style. [Illustration: RURAL SPORTS.] 1811 (?). _Rural Sports._ 1811. _The Huntsman Rising._ Republished. (See 1809.) Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. [Illustration: THE HUNTSMAN RISING.] 1811. _The Gamester Going to Bed._ Republished. (See 1809.) Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. According to the original drawing (see Appendix, collection of John West, Esq.) it appears, from a paper spread before the desperate gambler, that he has been tempted to give the _coup de grâce_ to his reckless career by committing a forgery. [Illustration: THE GAMESTER GOING TO BED.] _August 20, 1811._ _Love Laughs at Locksmiths._ Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The stronghold in which an old Israelite has confined his treasure has enormous padlocks on the area gate and the door studded with nails. The proprietor has returned with provisions for a merry-making; a porter bearing on his head a basket containing geese, fowls, fish, and fruit, with a flask of wine in his hand. The old curmudgeon's crutch is leaning against the door, and he is fumbling over the immense padlock, quite unconscious that a smart young officer, who has placed a ladder against the window of his lovely inamorata's apartment, is helping the captive bird to freedom from the clutches of her jealous jailer. _August 30, 1811._ _Masquerading._ Published by T. Tegg.--The comicalities of a masquerade at the beginning of the century, when this class of entertainment, although declining since the palmy days of the Pantheon and Madame Cornely's extravagances in Soho Square, was more prevalent than at present, are set forth with due observation of the leading characteristics. Prominent among the maskers is a lady-magician, with her divining-wand and a book of the 'black art,' confronting a nondescript necromancer and his zany. There is a nobleman wearing horns as a becoming decoration for his head; and our old friend Punchinello, with a guitar, putting himself into grotesque contortions. There is a composite personage, a kind of _Janus_, an established feature in old _bal masqués_, one side male and the other female. There is a Folly, a councillor, and the usual attendance of dominos, masquers, and characters, whose disguises are of a speculative description. [Illustration: MASQUERADING.] _September, 1811._ _Accommodation Ladder._ Published by T. Tegg (85).--At the feet of a gigantic and finely-built wench is a rotund yet diminutive Admiral, with cocked-hat, telescope, sword, and all complete; his broad riband is marked _Death or Victory_. For his accommodation, that he may be able to reach her countenance within hailing distance, the lady, who is more than twice the height of her admirer, is holding a ladder ready for his ascent. The belle wears a gallant plume, and a streamer with the motto _England expects every man to do his duty_. _September 12, 1811._ _Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heartache._ _September 20, 1811._ _Looking at the Comet till you get a crick in the neck._ Published by T. Tegg (91).--A slipshod, lean old anatomy, in dressing-gown and slippers, is straining his ancient crooked neck staring at a comet through a spyglass. A comely young female, seated in an armchair at the window, is pointing out the phenomenon to the gazer; meanwhile a youthful gallant, on his knees beside the lady, is squeezing her hand, tenderly pressing her foot, and otherwise striving to enlist her interest by a demonstrative display of affection. _September 25, 1811._ _Life and Death of the Race Horse._ Published by T. Tegg (90).--This print is divided into six stages. The first represents the foal by the side of his dam; in the second he is pictured as a racer on the course in all the pride of strength and beauty, blood and limb. In the third stage he has come down to a hunter; from thence, with old age fast approaching, he is used to run in a postchaise. In the fifth plate we find the whilom racehorse grown aged and broken down, and condemned to end his wretched days belaboured as a pack-horse. In the last stage the racehorse's career is brought down to his death, and a huntsman has purchased his carcass to feed his pack. _September 29, 1811._ _Rural Sports. A Milling Match which took place at Thisselton Gap, in the county of Rutland, September 28, 1811, betwixt Cribb and Molineaux, on a twenty-five foot stage, and was the second public contest between these two pugilists. It lasted nineteen minutes and ten seconds, and was decisive in favour of Cribb._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg.--The point from which the picture is taken affords a good view of the combat, which is about concluded. Cribb, a massively-built boxer, is dealing the black champion such a felling blow as, judging from the dismay expressed in the faces of the two supporters of Molineaux, one of whom is also a man of colour, will leave the victory in the hands of the striker, whose backer and bottle-holder are in raptures. Round the raised platform which constitutes the ring is gathered a very animated throng, amidst which the artist has depicted the various popular incidents of pushing, struggling, climbing on shoulders, quarrelling, picking pockets, cheering, and resenting the encroachments of men on horseback. A prize-fight would seem to have been an institution in fashion at the beginning of the century; the streams of vehicles, coaches, tandems, curricles, and every contrivance 'on wheels' which surround the stage and line the background give the scene the appearance of a Derby course. The presence of the fair sex, who seem to appreciate the performance, keeps up the animation of the picture. _October 1, 1811._ _Rural Sports. Smock Racing._ Published by T. Tegg. [Illustration: RURAL SPORTS. SMOCK RACING.] _October 2, 1811._ _John Bull at the Italian Opera._ Republished. (See Oct. 2, 1805.) Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _October, 1811._ _Rural Sports, or a Game at Quoits._--A village green, with an alehouse in the rear, is the scene of this diversion. Various loving couples are disporting themselves on benches and at round-tables by the alehouse door. The village cobblers, blacksmiths, tailors, butchers, &c., are neglecting their trades to follow the game; their injured wives have come to reduce the careless husbands to a proper sense of their duties. One shrewish spouse, leaning over the paling, is flourishing a broom with a force of arms that threatens to astonish her good man, whose attention is occupied in the game. Over the head of the victim is a board, _Washing and mangling done here_. Various convivial groups are scattered around. _October, 1811._ _Rural Sports, or how to show off a well-shaped Leg_, introduces a rustic pleasure-ground. A rope thrown between two tall trees furnishes a swing for a well-developed and gaily apparelled hoyden; another maiden is working the rope which swings her friend; the attractions of the second lady have absorbed a young gentleman, whose attentions to the fair rope-puller are 'particular.' A group of wicked old roysterers are delighted with the prospect of the swinging hoyden--their pipes and bowls are neglected in their rapturous attention to the evolutions of the fair occupant of the swing, and their indignant wives are vainly endeavouring to recall them to a sense of propriety. 1811. _Twelfth Night Characters_, in twenty-four figures, by T. Rowlandson. _October, 1811._ _Rural Sports, or a Cricket Match Extraordinary._ Published by T. Tegg (96).--On Wednesday, Oct. 3, 1811, a cricket match took place at Balls Pond, Newington. The players on both sides were women--11 Hampshire against 11 Surrey. The match was made between two noblemen amateurs of the respective counties for 500 guineas a side. The performers in the contest were of all ages and sizes. Such a subject in the hands of Rowlandson afforded almost unbounded opportunities for the exercise of his grotesque talents and his command of figure-drawing. The scene is a busy one, as may be conceived; a certain artistic freedom has been assumed, and there is a liberal display of limbs in all directions, the skirts of the cricketers being tucked up for convenience of motion; the performers, however, seem to enter into the contest with spirit, if not skill. Balls Pond, as seen in the engraving, is a fair open country, without a trace of a solitary habitation. A spacious tent, in the background, is erected for the _Jolly Cricketers_, wherein the noble patrons of the sport are fortifying the players with huge bowls of punch, restoratives which do not appear to promote the most orderly proceedings. 1811 (?). _The Jockey Club, or Newmarket Meeting_ (111) (Betting Room). 1811 (?). _The Sagacious Buck, or Effects of Waterproof._ 1811 (?). _Richmond Hill._ After H. Bunbury. (See 1803.) 1811 (?). _French Inn._ ditto. 1811 (?). _Quaix de Paris._ ditto. 1811 (?). _A Country Club._ 1811 (?). _Recruits._ (See 1803.) 1811 (?). _Morning, or the Man of Taste._ After H. Bunbury. 1811 (?). _Evening, or the Man of Feeling._ ditto. 1811 (?). _Conversazione._ _October 11, 1811._ _Six Classes of that Noble and Intelligent Animal--a Horse._ The Race Horse. The Shooting Pony. The Gig Horse. The War Horse. The Hunter. The Draught Horse. _October 10, 1811._ _Distillers looking into their own business._ Published by T. Tegg.--The principal objects in the print are a still and a cask of double-rectified spirits, into which three members of the firm are involuntarily infusing foreign elements. _October, 1811._ _Dinners Dressed in the neatest manner._ Published by T. Tegg (112).--The preparations of the cook in question are not calculated to increase the appetite of the observant epicure; the _chef_ is hideous, old, rheumy, slovenly, and diseased; he is kneading the paste with his objectionable hands, his snuffbox is on the board by his side; while a blowsy and uncombed slattern is reaching down a pie-dish, in which the rats have been revelling; the bold depredators are scampering off no farther than the next dish. (Companion to _Distillers looking into their own business_.) _October 25, 1811._ _A Trip to Gretna Green._ Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The scene of the situation is the green at Gretna, before the shed of _Tim Tag, 'Blacksmith and Rector.'_ The worthy is in his clerical character, decently clad in professional sables; and, with spectacles on nose, he is reading the service, in a somewhat extemporary fashion, over a fugitive couple, in the open air. A dashing captain, dressed in his regimentals, as was then the everyday fashion in the King's service, is placing a ring on the finger of a comely maiden of tender years, who is smiling and blushing. The postilion who has driven the runaway pair to this stolen match is standing, cap in hand, grinning at the ceremonial. While the blacksmith is rivetting the fetters of Hymen in his clerical character, his professional helpers are looking to the shoes of the horses which are to bear the newly-married couple across the Border. _October 25, 1811._ _Rural Sports. Balloon Hunting._ Published by T. Tegg (157).--The balloon is drifting before the wind beyond the control of the aeronaut; a fair voyager is making a terrific descent with a parachute in the midst of a flock of birds; from the top of a tall tower a gentleman is taking deliberate aim at the flying machine, probably with a view to bring it down by blowing a hole through the body of the balloon. In the foreground is shown the mishap of the balloon-hunters; a stout old gentleman is endeavouring to drag his vehicle up hill; his horse is shying and kicking; a dog is barking at the animal's head, the shafts are snapped, and the trap is kicked over; three fair riders are thrown out in picturesque confusion on the turf, and scattered with bottles and a bundle. _November 25, 1811._ _English Manner and French Prudence; or French Dragoons brought to a check by a Belvoir Leap. A Scene after Nature near Cuidad Rodrigo. September 1811._ Published by H. Humphrey, St. James's Street.--'Lord Charles Manners was a famous horseman, and unexpectedly one day came upon a French cavalry picket, who gave chase until a brook was reached, which Lord Charles immediately cleared, making a salute, and bidding the Frenchmen (who were so surprised as not to fire until too late), '_Adieu, messieurs!_' A paragraph from one of the London papers of the day makes the foregoing record of the exciting incident. This gallant exploit is treated pictorially by Rowlandson. Lord Charles Manners is taking the brook in an easy stride, his horse bearing him over 'like a bird,' while his ferocious-looking pursuers are brought to a full stop at the brink, and as the daring horseman is bidding farewell to the enemy they are nonplussed with astonishment at the reckless feat, which they have no ambition to follow. There is a disappointed knot of French officers, dragoons, huzzars, &c.; they are all uttering ejaculations of surprise and cursing the fugitive: _'Sacrebleu!' 'Mais comment, &c.'; 'Quel diable d'Anglois!' 'Est-il possible?'_ _December 2, 1811._ _A Man of Feeling for the Human Race._ Published by T. Tegg (126).--Represents the college rooms of a Master of Arts and a Fellow of decidedly convivial tendencies, whose predilections appear to be the reverse of ascetic. _December 9, 1811._ _Bel and the Dragon._ Published by Stockdale.--Doctor Bell, in wig, gown, cassock, and bands, is standing calmly before a very terrific pantomimic representation of a dragon. Before the Doctor--over whose head shines the glorious midday sun, figuratively set forth--is extended the buckler of _Religion_ held by the stalwart arm of the _Marsh Clergy of Monarchists_. Dr. Bell is pointing triumphantly to his school, a dignified pile, founded on a commanding eminence, marked _Church and State_. Behind 'the Dragon' is the rival establishment, _Lancaster's School under the Broad-brim System_, raised on _Deceit and Misrepresentation_. The Dragon's tongue, labelled _Falsehood_, is pouring forth smoke and flames, and his claws, _Hypocrisy_, _Vanity_, _Misrepresentation_, and _Calumny_, are extended to maul the reputation of the opposition champion. _December 15, 1811._ _A Milk-sop._ Published by T. Tegg (125).--A pretty milkmaid, with her yoke and cans, is passing the chambers of a gallant collegian at one of the Universities; the shameless undergraduate, in cap and gown, has waited his opportunity, and as the buxom wench is passing his open casement he is leaning out of window, throwing his arm round her buxom waist, and is indulging in a chaste salute, which is cordially received. A tutor, or proctor, dodging round 'the quad,' is horrified at the scandalous licence; a sturdy infant is carried in one of the pails, the other is filled with cream, and offers a rare opportunity for plunder, of which a passing dog is not slow to avail himself--raised on his hind legs he is lapping up the welcome fluid at his leisure. 1811. _Royal Academy, Somerset House, London._ Rowlandson fecit.--The members, who are studying from the nude, are all well advanced in years. The seats and drawing-stands of the old Life Academy are arranged in a horseshoe; the first or inner row of students being seated, while those who form the outer semicircle are standing at their easels. An agreeable and graceful-looking female model is posed beneath the reflectors in an easy attitude which she is preserving with the assistance of a looped rope slung from the roof. 1811. _The Harmonic Society._ (See October 2, 1810.) Republished. 1811. _Miseries of Travelling. A Hailstorm._ Designed by H. Bunbury, etched by T. Rowlandson. 1811. _A Tutor and his Pupil, travelling in France, arriving at a Posting-house._ 1811. _The Departure of La Fleur._ Vide _Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey.'_ Designed by H. Bunbury, etched by T. Rowlandson. 1811 (?). _Exhibition 'Stare' Case, Somerset House._--The staircase of the handsome buildings erected for Somerset House originally set apart for the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, is ridiculed as a scene of unequivocal confusion. Whether the dangers of the somewhat steep ascent were actually as hazardous as the artist has depicted is open to question. It will be remembered that Sir William Chambers, the architect, whose masterpiece was decidedly Somerset House, was a member of the Royal Academy, and held the office of Treasurer to that body. It was somewhat the fashion of the wits to laugh at the architect, who, as a foreigner, had received an amount of royal patronage which created certain jealousies in the minds of his English rivals, who were less favoured with the smiles of princes. Chambers' extravagant conceptions, the various novel designs he published, and particularly his marked taste for so-called Oriental gardening and the introduction of buildings after the Chinese fashion, exposed the project to an ordeal of the severest criticism and sarcasm. George the Third employed Sir William Chambers to lay out and adorn the Royal gardens at Kew, when the eminent Swede took advantage of the occasion to carry out the taste he had acquired in China[24]--an indulgence which subjected the architect to numerous well-merited satires. The famous 'Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers' was provoked on this occasion. Peter Pindar, according to his custom, found various faults with the new pile of buildings in the Strand, and their shortcomings were pointed out with his habitual archness. The scene of disaster and tumultuous medley which Rowlandson has ventured to introduce as attendant incidents of the Royal Academy staircase must have assisted, in some degree, to make this portion of the building a laughing-stock with the more frivolous portion of the frequenters. [Illustration: EXHIBITION 'STARE' CASE.] The Editor acknowledges the situation is treated with a licence which, perhaps, may be held to verge on the inadmissible. It has been sufficiently difficult, in selecting these illustrations, to keep within the restrictions marked out by modern decorum, too chaste to endorse the broad jocularity which passed current half a century back. The mirth imported into _Somerset House_ is not, however, of a licentious description; if the subject is treated with more freedom than is desirable, according to the juster ideas of our generation, at least its humours are innoxious and, we trust, guiltless of offence. [Illustration: THE MANAGER'S LAST KICK.] It is obvious that, in an instance like the present, the task becomes one of extreme delicacy; it is impossible to translate the caprices of the artist by any method short of the etching-needle; the mixed description of the spectacle and the spirit of the _contretemps_ defy a mere verbal rendering; and the caricature is too excellent in other respects to be passed over in the present collection, which professes to give a general view of the artist's cleverest and most familiarly known examples. While avoiding instances the morality of which is absolutely questionable, it is evident that it would be impossible to treat of the actual history, let alone the novels and caricatures of our forefathers, or to venture on the merest enquiry into their familiar life, abroad or at home, unless we put prudery a little on one side. 1811. _The Manager's Last Kick, or a New Way to Pay Old Debts._ Published by T. Tegg (117).--An episode in theatrical management is made the subject of the present caricature. As is well known, pecuniary complications were occasionally attendant evils of carrying on theatrical enterprises, especially some half a century ago. Sheridan's monetary difficulties were notorious, and although the holders of writs had recourse to expedients without end to serve the slippery manager of Drury Lane, it is just to add that 'Sherry's' ingenuity was frequently equal to the emergency. During a rehearsal at Drury Lane a Sheriff's officer by some subterfuge gained admittance to the stage, and presented the manager with his objectionable scrip of parchment. Sheridan was by no means disconcerted, but made the process-server at home, asking his advice on various points; and finally, as the story goes, having thrown the man off his guard, he induced him to mount to the front of the house to give his opinion on the sounding properties of the building. 'Can you hear me?' asked Sheridan. 'Perfectly,' replied the man. 'Then,' said Sheridan, 'you had better lose no time in coming down again, and catch me if you can, for I'm off!' And before the disconcerted bailiff could find his way back to the stage his charge had succeeded in making good his retreat. In _The Manager's Last Kick, or a New Way to Pay Old Debts_, the same principle is involved; in this case, however, just as the _red tail_ writ is being served on the manager, a stage trap-door is suddenly let down, and the objectionable visitor is whisked off the scene. The wily lessee is bowing his fallen enemy out of sight with mock respect: 'Good morning, Mr. Catchpole; you'll find more of your tribe when you get to the bottom!' _No Date._ (1811?). _Preparing to Start._ Published by T. Tegg (118).--There are jockeys within the ropes; the course is being cleared. The view is taken from the paddock opposite the grand stand. There are booths and tents for the sale of _real Stingo_, and horses are picketed on a hillside in the distance. [Illustration: PREPARING TO START.] _No Date._ (1811?). _Preparing for the Race._ Published by T. Tegg. [Illustration: PREPARING FOR THE RACE.] 1811 (?). _Awkward Squads Studying the Graces._ Published by T. Tegg (87). Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.--Six stages, displaying the difficulties encountered by a French dancing master in labouring to instruct unconquerably clumsy and elderly pupils, who obviously possess no sort of aptitude for movement or grace. 1811. _Hiring a Servant._ Published by T. Tegg (124).--An elderly couple in a genteel station of life are seated at the breakfast-table; to them enters a simple country maiden, with a pretty and innocent face, her arms modestly folded, as an applicant for a place. 'What situation in my family would you wish to undertake, young woman?' enquires the lady of the house. 'Ma'am,' replies the unsophisticated maiden, 'I should like to be under your man-cook by way of improvement.' This _naïf_ remark is misconstrued, to the manifest delight of the fat _chef_, who is rolling about and rubbing his round sides with amusement. 1811 (?). _Anglers of 1611._ Designed by H. Bunbury, and etched by T. Rowlandson.--A pretty group, founded on the piscatorial pastoral of Izaak Walton. Venator is seated with his arm round the waist of the pretty milkmaid. Maudlin, her mother, a quaint old dame, is discoursing wisdom. Piscator is, with folded arms, leaning on his fishing-rod; at his feet are two fine trout. Peter is whipping a stream in the rear. The scenery is pretty, and the figures are neatly and expressively filled in. The design, which is by Bunbury, it is easy to recognise has gained considerable force from the spirited execution his contemporary has brought to bear on the etching. Companion to _Anglers of 1811_. 1811. _Anglers of 1811._ Designed by H. Bunbury, etched by T. Rowlandson. 1811. _Patience in a Punt._ Designed by H. Bunbury, etched by T. Rowlandson. 1811 (?). _A Templar at his Studies._ Published by T. Tegg.--The chambers of a fast member of the Bar; breakfast is on the table, and the apartment is in a litter of bottles, hunting-boots, guns, whips, law-books, briefs, papers, and general disorder. The student has evidently been to a masquerade overnight; portions of the dress of a Grand Turk are scattered about; moreover a lady is in his chambers, who is performing her toilette at a gilt mirror standing on his breakfast-table. The Templar, semi-clad, is sleepily trying to look through a bundle of briefs and law papers. 1811. _A Family Piece. (The Portrait Painter.)_ Designed by H. Bunbury, engraved by T. Rowlandson. 1811. _A Barber's Shop._ H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.--Two customers, already polished off, are putting on their cravats at the glass, and a stout old gentleman is in a shaving-chair having his hair dressed. A brace of dogs are quarrelling over a wig, which they are worrying like a rat and pulling different ways. A client is being lathered and is under operation, while a gentleman, who has been shaved, is wiping off the remains of the soapsuds. This design, one of the latest due to the hand of the gifted Henry Bunbury,[25] was also engraved on a larger scale by James Gillray: it was the last plate upon which he was able to work, and it proceeded but slowly, being touched in rare lucid intervals as his increasing madness permitted. The etching, as executed by Gillray, bears the date 1811 in one corner, and to this is added the date of its deferred publication, May 15, 1818. The title given on the folio engraving is _Interior of a Barber's Shop in Assize Time_. The great caricaturist carried this plate, _the last work on copper by the hand of Gillray_, as notified upon the print, so far as his intermittent returns of reason would allow him. As Gillray died June 1, 1815, when the plate was evidently unfinished, this is probably one of the caricaturist's coppers which, as we have already related, were handed to George Cruikshank, another departed worthy, to complete. The unexpected death of the veteran has prevented the writer verifying this circumstance, although it is probably one of the plates--probably the most important as to size--which Cruikshank held in recollection when he informed the writer he considered that the most flattering testimonial which had been paid him in his long life was being selected, while a young man, to complete the engravings Gillray had left unfinished under the painful circumstances of his mental aberration, as already detailed. (See _The Works of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with the Story of his Life and Times_, page 19, Introduction; and, further, the reduced engraving, from this plate (1811), page 370, the _Works_). 1811 (?). _Modern Antiques._--The cabinet of an antiquarian, richly filled with supposititious relics of the past. On a shelf is a row of Etruscan vases; bacchic masks and terminal gods are ranged on the walls; the chief features of the collection are a gathering of Egyptian deities and some magnificent sarcophagi. The satire, in some degree, seems to hint at Sir William Hamilton (then deceased) and the fair Emma. An old antiquary, decrepit and bent, is peering at the shapely proportions of an Egyptian figure bearing a close resemblance to life. The chief incident of the picture is centred in a mummy's coffin, tenanted for the time, like a sentry-box, by a gallant young officer, who is embraced, behind the lid of his temporary resting-place, by a lady, who, like all the beauties designed by the artist, is represented of fine proportions and somewhat free graces. The _inamorata_ has thrown down a work which she has evidently studied to some purpose, _Loves of the Gods--embellished with cuts_, and she is taking the opportunity to make a practical application of her readings. 1811. _Munchausen at Walcheren._ Plates by Rowlandson. 1811. _Chesterfield Burlesqued._ Published by T. Tegg. 12mo. (See _Chesterfield Travestie_, 1808.) FOOTNOTES: [23] It was here, in this same Westminster pit, that the celebrated dog _Billy_ distinguished himself, and carried off the laurels of vermin-killing, by despatching a hundred rats at a time. [24] In his early career Chambers had visited China. He performed the voyage as supercargo of some Swedish ships trading there. [25] Bunbury died at Keswick, May 7, 1811, aged 61. 1812. _January 10, 1812._ _A Portrait: Duke of Cumberland._ Published by H. Humphrey, 27 St. James's Street.--The Duke, with his spyglass, dressed in a blue coat with red facings (Windsor uniform); in the background is shown Kew Gardens, with the Pagoda House. The drawing from which this print was etched is entitled _Blood Royal_. _January 10, 1812._ _A Portrait: Lord Petersham._ Published by H. Humphrey, 27 St James's Street.--St. James's Palace at the back of the subject. _January 10, 1812._ _Wet under Foot._ Designed by an amateur. Published by H. Humphrey, 27 St. James's Street.--This small sketch represents a pouring wet day; a lady on pattens, holding an umbrella over her head, is endeavouring to pass the gutter without injury to her stockings. The point of view is supposed to be taken from the junction of Petticoat Lane with Smock Alley. Scavengers are shovelling mud into their carts; and the general downpour is further aggravated by denizens of the upper floors, who are discharging vessels over the soaked and dripping passengers below. _February 26, 1812._ _A Portrait: Lord Pomfret._ Published by H. Humphrey, 27 St. James's Street. _February 28, 1812._ _Plucking a Spooney._--A promising young 'spooney,' according to the artist's view, is entering on life's dangers--represented pictorially in three subjects which are hanging over the head of the victim: 'the fair sex--drinking--and gaming,' being the evils set down to avoid. The novice is evidently well advanced on the downward route, and has fallen among experienced professors of the plucking process. A gaily-dressed lady by his side, a 'decoy duck,' of captivating exterior, is beguiling the senses of the self-satisfied dupe with various familiarities; while a smug stout person, dressed like a parson, is discreetly keeping up the spirit of the affair by filling the glasses and manufacturing fresh supplies of punch, which the 'spooney' is imbibing freely and without regard to the consequences. A pile of gold and notes has been laid on the table by this very innocent pigeon, and opposite to him sits the crafty and accomplished 'rook'--a captain, from his 'keeping'--who, by a skilful manipulation of the cards, assisted by the carelessness of the simple young _roué_, bids fair to succeed in leaving the pigeon 'without a feather to fly with;' the plunder to be apportioned amongst the hopeful triumvirate in whose company the youth has the misfortune to find himself. _March 1, 1812._ _Catching an Elephant._ Published by T. Tegg (146).--Two attractive and winsome damsels, standing outside a portal labelled 'Warm Baths,' have just succeeded in capturing an elderly colossus of a man, whose bulk should fairly entitle him to take his place amongst elephantine monsters; the expression of his senile features is designed to carry out the resemblance. _March, 1812._ _Description of a Boxing Match between Ward and Quirk for 100 Guineas a side._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _March 2, 1812._ _Spanish Cloak._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (39).--A superior officer, going his midnight rounds of the sentries posted on a line of fortifications, is amused at discovering the phenomenon of two pairs of legs below one cloak. A trooper has taken advantage of his ample garment to smuggle in a fair companion to share his vigils. The lady seems to enjoy her situation. _March 20, 1812._ _Fast Day._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--Four learned Doctors, dressed in their clerical vestments, are keeping in their own fashion a day set apart by the Church for general mortification. The portly four are seated at a well-furnished board, and trains of servants are, with respectful attention, bringing in fresh supplies--poultry, dainty meats, and other delicacies. The well-stocked collegiate cellars have been laid under contribution; bottles of choice vintage are standing in wine-coolers and in promising rows on the floor, beside a liberal jorum of punch in a _Bowl for a Bishop_. The nature of the private meditations of these epicurean worthies is thus made manifest, while the order of the repast is further set forth in a lengthy _bill of fare_ irreverently written on a _New Form of Prayer for the Fast Day_, by way of _menu_. The walls are suggestively hung with _Lists of the Great Tithes_ and such congenial paintings as _A Bench of Bishops_, represented regaling at a roystering banquet, _Susannah and the Elders_, _Brasenose College_, &c. _March 25, 1812._ _Sea Stores._--A bevy of females consisting of a negress and other beauties from the purlieus of the port, 'waiting for Jack,' are sportively accosted by a dapper young midshipman who has been sent on shore to procure supplies for his ship, which is lying off. (Companion print to _Land Stores_.) _March, 1812._ _Land Stores._--A dark beauty, of colossal proportions, is embraced by an officer whose figure is dwarfed by comparison with the monster negress. A placard posted on the walls of the fortification, where these extraordinary _Land Stores_ are supposed to be lodged, announces 'Voluntary subscription for a soldier's widow; the smallest donations will be gratefully received,' &c. _April 2, 1812._ _The Chamber of Genius._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street. Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool, And genius in rags is turned to ridicule.--_Vide 'Satirist.'_ The apartment of an enthusiastic genius, whose ambitions seem to have taken various forms of expression. Music, painting, sculpture, literature, chemistry, and other arts and sciences seem to have occupied his attention by turns, and instruments suggestive of the respective pursuits are muddled up with domestic details incidental to the confinement of a wife and family to one solitary chamber, together with the utensils of cookery, besides the food itself. The genius has left his rest under the impulse of an inspiration; he has an old nightcap worn over his wig, and is still in his night-shirt, with down-at-heel slipper on one foot, and a ragged stocking on the other. He is seated, in an attitude expressive of sudden exaltation before an easel which bears the canvas he is filling out with rapid energy; his left hand grasps a pen, and a black cat in demanding attention has fixed her claws in his unclad limbs; but the artist is so absorbed in his subject as to be unconscious of pain; miscellaneous litter, a bust, a palette, and a sheaf of brushes, paint-pots, a still and furnace, books, scales, syringes, a fiddle, and a post horn are scattered behind the easel. The female companion of this genius is tranquilly sleeping in an easy attitude through all the confusion; on the table by the bedstead (on which her husband's garments are displayed) is a coffee-pot and some suggestions of breakfast; an unclad infant is leaning over the table, and pouring gin into a wineglass. Another semiclad child is seated on a tub before a blazing fire, amusing herself with the bellows, and is in danger from a steaming kettle and a red-hot poker. Food, knives, forks, plates, and a pewter quart-pot are at the artist's feet; he has just kicked over a large porringer of milk, and is heedless of the mischief. Lamps, caudle-boats, strings of candles, and bunches of onions are the decorations of the chimneypiece; ragged clothes and unmended stockings are hanging over a rope stretched across the chamber; on the wall is hung a smart three-cornered hat and a sword by the side of pictures of 'Aerostation' and the portraits of a ballet-dancer and 'Peter Tester.' Rowlandson has put his own name to the print as the 'inventor;' the satire is very unsparing, and the squalor he has attributed to his professional brother is of the direst and most ludicrous description, but the figure of the painter is marked with vigorous characteristics, and the outline of the face which he has bestowed on his erratic genius, designedly or not, bears a suggestive resemblance to his own strongly-defined features. _April 4, 1812._ _In the Dog Days._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Now the weather's sultry grown, Sweating late and early. Better far to lay alone-- Oh! we swelter rarely! The representation of an extravagantly corpulent couple, whose rest is apparently fitful; the lines attached to the plate, which is not remarkable for refinement, form its best description. _April 12, 1812._ _The Ducking Stool._ Republished. (See April 12, 1803.) [Illustration: ITALIAN PICTURE-DEALERS HUMBUGGING MY LORD ANGLAISE.] _May 30, 1812._ _Italian Picture Dealers Humbugging my Lord Anglaise._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--'Milord' is a very dandified young sprig of nobility, who is an evident _macaroni_, with the ambition to shine as a man of taste. A 'foreign nobleman'--that is to say, according to English views at the period--a 'speculative Count,' who is very splendid in exterior, is evidently a confederate of his countryman, the _Italian picture dealer_, and has accompanied the noble incipient collector as a decoy to puff the wares, and if need be to offer fictitious sums in opposition to 'Milord' and spur his enthusiasm for the fine arts, which are respectably represented around, as far as good names go. A sensuous Magdalen, attributed to Guido, is exciting the admiration of the party and employing the wily dealer's eloquence. Around are supposititious examples of Rubens, Carracci, Titian, Teniers, Salvator Rosa, and other 'undoubted originals,' the major part of which in all probability owe their well-disguised paternity to the versatile 'Van Daub.' [Illustration: A BRACE OF BLACKGUARDS.] _May 30, 1812._ _A Brace of Blackguards._ Published by T. Rowlandson, St. James Street, Adelphi.--It has been mentioned in respect to this eccentric production that the figures of the two gentlemen to whom this dubious compliment is rendered are intended to represent those of Rowlandson, the caricaturist, in the boxing attitude, and his friend George Morland, the painter, seated in the chair. [Illustration: RACING.] _June 4, 1812._ _Broad Grins, or a Black Joke._ Published by T. Tegg.--A clerical-looking gentleman is thrown into consternation at the interesting condition of a rustic female, who is standing beneath a board announcing 'Man-traps laid in these grounds.' The head of a black footman peering through a hole in the garden-wall indicates the true source of the 'Black Joke.' _July 14, 1812._ _Miseries of London. Watermen. Oars? Sculls?_ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--Entering upon any of the bridges of London or any of the passages leading to the Thames, being assailed by a group of watermen, holding up their hands and bawling out 'Oars? Sculls, sculls? Oars, oars?' [Illustration: MISERIES OF LONDON. 'Oars? Sculls, sculls? Oars, oars?'] 1812 (?). _Racing._ Published by T. Tegg (158). _July 14, 1812_ (?). _Glow Worms._ (See 1805.) Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 St. James Street, Adelphi. _July 14, 1812_ (?). _Muck Worms._ (See 1800.) _July 14, 1812_ (?). _The Rivals._ _July 15, 1812._ _A Seaman's Wife's Reckoning._ Published by T. Tegg (275), Woodward delin., Rowlandson sculp.--An old salt, with his dog at his elbow, is seated beside his blooming daughter-in-law, a pretty young mother, dandling a fine infant; the lady is using her eloquence and trying to flatter this obdurate relative into confidence in her story. The experienced mariner is declaring, 'Why, d'ye see, I am an old seaman, and not easily imposed upon. I say that can't be my son Jack's child. Why, he has not been married but three months, and during that time he has been at sea--the thing is impossible! You may as well tell me that my ship Nancy goes nine knots an hour in a dead calm. And now I look again it's the very picture of Peter Wilkins, the soap-boiler.' The fair object of suspicion is by no means confounded at this logical deduction. 'My dear father-in-law, I'll make it out very easily--Jack has been married to me three months,--very well,--I have been with child three months,--which makes _six_,--then he has been at sea three months, has not he?--and that just makes up the _nine_!' The fortunate husband, who sports a new rig-out--with a bright bandanna round his neck, and his pipe stuck in the band of his hat--is lurching into the apartment with a sea-roll. He is quite satisfied with his wife's arithmetic, and is arguing on the side of his tender partner: 'Father, father, don't be too hard upon Poll; I know something about the logbook myself, and dash me but she has kept her reckoning like a true seaman's wife!' _July 15, 1812._ _The Secret History of Crim Con._ Plate 1. Published by T. Tegg (161). _July 15, 1812._ _The Secret History of Crim Con._ Plate 2. Published by T. Tegg (161). _August 29, 1812._ _Setting out for Margate._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (166).--A stout citizen, smartly clad, with his wife, whose apparel is still more festive, are setting out upon a holiday excursion. The heads of two geese are hanging over the coat-tails of the cockney traveller: 'Why, my dove, I am loaded with provisions, like a tilt-cart on a fair-day, and my pockets stick out just as if I was just returned from a City feast.' The correct partner of his joys is responding, 'Don't be so _wulgar_, Mr. Dripping; you are now going among genteel folks, and must behave yourself. We shall want all the _wickalls_ on the _woyage_, depend upon it. Bless me, how _varm_ it is! I am all over in a muck!' To them enters their foreman: 'An' please you, master and missis, the sailor-man has sent word as how the _wessel_ is ready to swim!' _August 30, 1812._ _The Sweet Pea._ Published by H. Humphrey, 27 St. James's Street. _October 1, 1812._ _Refinement of Language._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (171).--Six subjects, illustrating the results of the advance of genteel ideas and the introduction of a new-fashioned system of refining on everything. A ragged match-seller is elevated into a 'timber merchant.' A postman becomes a 'man of letters.' A gardener is raised to a 'Master of the Mint.' A Jew hawker, who cries, 'Any old clothes to shell?' is changed to a 'merchant tailor.' A sexton, pressing down the mould on a grave, is translated into 'a banker;' and a poulterer easily becomes a 'Turkey merchant.' 1812. _Bitter Fare, or Sweeps Regaling._--As in the preceding caricature the date of this plate has been altered; it was probably published in 1802, and re-issued later, a common occurrence with Rowlandson's prints. _Bitter Fare, or Sweeps Regaling_, was, it seems likely, designed as a companion to _Love and Dust_ (1792, &c.), and it partakes of the same ragged inspiration. In the hovel tenanted by the somewhat undesirable 'Chummey family' smoke is the prevalent element; the sooty company, sufficiently black and begrimed in their own persons, seem perfectly in their element before a smoking fireplace--as they are reposing luxuriously on sacks of soot. The heads of the family are amiably sharing their enjoyments, drinking beer from a pewter measure, and smoking long clay pipes; the sweeper lads, but for a coat of soot comparatively unclad, are revelling amidst the cinders on the hearth, divided between the congenial relaxations of eating porridge and tormenting an unfortunate cat. Brushes, shovels, and the professional belongings of chimney-sweeping are scattered about; the only article of fancy admitted into the establishment is a blackbird, which is possibly present on the ground that its hue offers a resemblance to the general complexion. _October 12, 1812._ _Raising the Wind._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. When noblemen have lost racehorse, and all their rhino spent, Then little Isaac draws the bond and lends for cent. per cent. [Illustration: RAISING THE WIND.] Rowlandson's print introduces the nobleman at the precise moment his affairs need 'patching up,' for 'mended' he never can be after he has put himself into the spider-like clutches of plausible Isaac and his 'friend in the City.' The 'little Jew broker' has brought a rich usurer of his tribe, and between them his lordship's career of folly will be swiftly run. All the ready-money is gone, and the racing stud has followed it; but the 'road to ruin' is only just opening up. The spendthrift is a comparative beginner; the next step is raising money on his _title deeds_, which are undergoing inspection under the vulture-like eye of the scrivener, who, it appears, lends money on good security and traffics in annuities and jointures. The borrower is evidently accustomed to take life easily, he is putting himself into the claws of the Israelites, and is otherwise 'going to the bad' with perfect good humour and in a sociable frame of mind, not unlike the way of proceeding practised by the heroes of Sheridan's comedies; indeed, there is a great deal of the _Charles Surface_ element in the composition. The pictures which fill young Hopeful's walls tell his story after the Hogarthian method. There are portraits of the relatives who have left their savings and estates to the present careless holder: Sir Matthew Mite, a miser; Lady Crane; and Sir Peter Plumb--all persons of a 'warm' disposition as to wealth. There is a 'view of the Yorkshire estate;' then there is 'The Prodigal Son,' which may be held to apply to the heir, whose ways of making the money fly are further illustrated by such pictures as a 'Hazard Table,' 'A game fighting-cock,' a racehorse, 'Sancho,' on the course; and a blood mare, 'Diana,' and foal; the breeding and running of racehorses being considered then, as now, among the most expeditious routes to insolvency. _November 30, 1812._ _Christmas Gambols._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The festivities represented, which partake of the free and frolicsome description, are taking place in the servants' hall. Full drinking has been the order of the evening; the master's cellar and the servants' heads have both been lightened simultaneously, and the results are displaying themselves under the mistletoe and in horseplay. A footman and a parlour-maid are rolling over one another indiscriminately on the hearthrug amidst the fragments of crockery demolished in their downfall. A sturdy black footman is lifting a fat wench in his arms for a chaste salute. Practical joking is the order of the evening; the fat cook has been toppled back in her armchair, and is vainly flourishing her basting-ladle to drive off her assailant, while her feet are in the air; and the butler, as author of the mischief, is making the best use of his opportunities, while another couple are exchanging kisses with evident goodwill. 1812. _The Successful Fortune-hunter (Bath Crescent), or Captain Shelalee leading Miss Marrowfat to the Temple of Hymen._--In the distance are indicated the regular frequenters of Bath, sufferers from gout on crutches, and invalids in wheeled-chairs. A dashing Irish adventurer, one of the bold fortune-hunters--notorieties from the Sister Isle in Rowlandson's day--is leading captive the wealth and person of a somewhat vulgar and stumpy heiress, whose figure is loaded with jewellery fashioned on a scale of oppressive magnitude. 1812. _Hackney Assembly. 'The Graces, the Graces, remember the Graces!'_ From erasures in the date of this plate it seems probable that it was originally issued ten years earlier. As the title indicates, this sketch is a broad burlesque of the deportment displayed by the frequenters of a suburban ball-room. The awkward and ungainly carriage of all the figures is amusingly exaggerated. A master of the ceremonies, the expression of whose features is complicated by a decided squint, is briskly performing the rites of his office and introducing a cobby little gentleman as a partner to an angular and misshapen spinster, who, in consulting _the graces_, has thrown her Gothic frame into an absurdly constrained and affected posture. 1812. _The Learned Scotchman, or Magistrate's Mistake._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (150).--A Scotchman is led before a country justice, charged with drunkenness; the magistrate's wife is seated by the side of her lord, and is much shocked at the learned Caledonian's defence; bowing low, bonnet in hand, the Scot is throwing himself on the clemency of the court: 'I own, your honour, I was a little inebriated, but your worship knows _Nemo mortalium omnibus hooris saupit_.' 'What's that you say, fellow,' retorts the magistrate, 'about a sawpit?--a very improper place to go with such company. I wonder you are not ashamed to mention such a thing, and before my wife too. But, however, as it is your first offence, I will discharge you this time; but never come here with such a story again!' 1812 (?). _Preaching to some Purpose._--An open-air meeting of rustic worshippers. Great astonishment is pictured on the upturned faces of the expectant congregation. The preacher is raised on an extemporised pulpit; he is clad in black, but in the rear of his nether garment appears a formidable rent, which his hand is not sufficiently broad to conceal. He is earnestly addressing his perplexed hearers to the following purpose: 'Dearly beloved, before I begin my discourse, I have three things to inform you of. The first thing I know, and you do not know. The next thing you know, and I do not know,--and the third thing none of us know, viz., in my way here to preach, crossing Farmer Hobson's stile, I tore my breeches,--the extent of the rent I know, and you do not know. Secondly, what you are willing to subscribe to get them repaired you know, and I do not know. And lastly, what Tim Snip, the tailor, will charge for the job, _that none of us know_!' 1812 (?). _New Invented Elastic Breeches._ H. Nixon invt., T. Rowlandson sculp.--Two tailors are using considerable manual force trying to pull a customer into a pair of close-spring breeches. The scene is taking place on the premises of the inventor and manufacturer of the patent articles in question. _No date._ 1812 (?). _A Visit to the Doctor._ Woodward del., Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg.--The consulting-room of a learned physician; an imposing bookcase fills the background. The doctor's man has just shown up a comfortable-looking couple, who have called for the benefit of the physician's advice--the practitioner is one of the old school--full-bottomed wig, powder, and pigtail, a learnedly long-skirted square-cut suit, lace frill and ruffles, huge spectacles, and a professional gold-headed cane held up to the nose; he is standing on the hearthrug, warming his learned back at the fireplace; above the mantelpiece is a bust of Galen. The patients, who are evidently robust country folks, thus set forth their case:--'Do you see, Doctor, my dame and I be come to ax your advice--we both of us eat well, and drink well, and sleep well,--yet still we be somehow queerish!' The Doctor is equal to the emergency and prepared to alter all this promptly. 'You eat well, you drink well, and you sleep well,--very good. You were perfectly right in coming to me, for depend upon it I will give you something that shall do away with all these things!' 1812 (?). _Puff Paste._--A fat cook is rolling out pudding paste; around her board are spread _codling tarts, apple dumplings, and batter puddings_; a footman is embracing her ample shoulders, and familiarly patting her under the chin. 1812. _Mock Turtle_ pictures a pair of elderly suitors cooing over a bowl of mock turtle soup; a pair of real turtledoves, perched on a branch, are introduced to carry out the allusion. 1812. _Off She Goes._ Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg.--An elopement unexpectedly accelerated. A rope-ladder has enabled a stout abductor to assist the flight of a somewhat mature and remarkably corpulent lady from the window of her chamber. A rung of the rope-ladder has given way with the weight; at the moment a male relation, nightcap on head, is discovering the flight and throwing a light on the subject with a chamber candle which he is holding out of the bedroom window. The partner of the elopement is an officer; he is precipitated on to his back, and forms a convenient cushion to receive the lady's fall, which is complete and overwhelming. A postchaise, prepared for the flight, is seen in the distance; the postilion is enjoying the spectacle of his employer's downfall; and the moon, peeping over a cloud, is represented with a broad grin on its face at the expense of these disconcerted 'fly-by-nights.' 1812. _English Exhibitions in Paris, or French People astonished at our improvements in the Breed of Fat Cattle._ 1812. _A Cat in Pattens._ Rowlandson invt.--Though thoroughly in Rowlandson's characteristic manner the scene is somewhat suggestive of Hogarth's plate of 'Morning,' 'Times of the Day,' in which the portrait of Miss Bridget Allworthy is exhibited, the introduction of whose burlesqued resemblance is said to have cost the painter the loss of a legacy. An old maid whose countenance certainly bears a close resemblance to that of a cat, is shuffling along in the breeze on pattens; she has a boa and an enormous muff; before her trots a French poodle, clipped fantastically to resemble a parody of a lion; behind her shivers a black page, in a tight gaudy uniform; under his arm is his mistress's umbrella, and he holds before him a bundle of cat's meat. A half-naked and ruffianly beggar is trying to excite the benevolence of this shrewish _Cat in Pattens_. * * * * * PETTICOAT LOOSE. _A FRAGMENTARY TALE OF THE CASTLE._ WITH FOUR PLATES ETCHED BY ROWLANDSON. London: J. J. Stockdale, 41 Pall Mall, Feb. 12, 1812. 4to. The argument upon which the story is founded is set forth in the following 'advertisement':-- _'Dublin Castle. The Adventure of the Under Petticoat at the Castle Drawing Room. "Honi soit qui mal y pense."_ All the world has been amused with the singular disaster that befel a lady on Thursday night last at the _Viceregal Palace_, by the loss of her under petticoat, which, from the pressure of the crowd, unfortunately slipped down through the capacious encumbrance of her hoop, and was soon trampled on the floor--though likely to become as renowned as Penelope's web: for the lady to whom it belonged lost by night the comfort and protection that was her security by day. One of the young pages (who are always peeping and bustling on such occasions) first made the discovery. The trophy was soon displayed in order to find out the fair owner; which, however, still remains a secret, except to the person immediately concerned. But, like the shield of Achilles, the little petticoat soon became the subject of admiration and contention. 'At the first impression the master of the ceremonies claimed the prize, as his official perquisite, alleging it was dropped in the _Presence Chamber_. But the Chamberlain insisted the drawing-room was his _champ d'or_, and every windfall on such occasions his exclusive property. That as a true knight he must take up the gauntlet thus thrown down by a lady. 'The household troops, particularly the young _aides-de-camp_, struggled through the crowd to see the cause of such bustle; and having satisfied their curiosity, whispered one another, and, in their usual way, set up a great titter. The chaplain in waiting had his eye upon the petticoat, and said he thought in decorum it ought to be deposited among the _new antiquities_ in Bedford Chapel. 'The Duke, with his usual good humour, liberality, and regard for the fair creation, decided the contest by saying that it should be suspended as a banner round the temple of love and beauty; and that as Edward the Third constituted the Order of the Garter from a similar accident at the British Court, he would solicit the Prince Regent, in the true spirit of chivalry, to establish and become _Sovereign of the Order of the Petticoat_ in Ireland, in commemoration of the pleasant adventure,' &c. Plate 1. _Capture of the Petticoat._ February 12, 1812. Plate 2. _Breakfast Room at an Inn._ February 12, 1812. Plate 3. _College Green before the Union._ February 12, 1812.--A scene of state, bustle, and prosperity. Plate 4. _College Green after the Union._ February 12, 1812.--Shabbiness, poverty, and beggary have sole possession of the scene. * * * * * VIEWS IN CORNWALL. _April 10, 1812._ _View of a Farm House at Hengar, Cornwall._ Published by T. Rowlandson. _April 12, 1812._ _Cottage at the Foot of Router Mountain, Cornwall._ Published by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: COTTAGE AT THE FOOT OF ROUTER MOUNTAIN, CORNWALL.] 1812. _Cornwall. An Overlooker._ [Illustration: CORNWALL. AN OVERLOOKER.] 1812. _A Cornish Waterfall._ [Illustration: A CORNISH WATERFALL.] 1812. _A Watercourse._ [Illustration: A WATERCOURSE.] _April 12, 1812._ _View of the River Camel, Cornwall._ Published by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: A VIEW OF THE RIVER CAMEL, CORNWALL.] [Illustration: VIEW OF A FARM-HOUSE, HENGAR, CORNWALL.] 1812. _Near Helston, Cornwall._ [Illustration: NEAR HELSTON, CORNWALL.] _April 12, 1812._ _Cottage near the Devil's Jump, in the Duchy of Cornwall._ Published by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: COTTAGE NEAR THE DEVIL'S JUMP, DUCHY OF CORNWALL.] 1812. _View of the Church and Village of St. Cue, Cornwall._ Published by Ackermann. [Illustration: VIEW OF THE CHURCH AND VILLAGE OF ST. CUE, CORNWALL.] _April 12, 1812._ _View of Liskeard, Cornwall._ Published by T. Rowlandson. [Illustration: VIEW OF LISKEARD, CORNWALL.] 1812. _The Lion Rock, Cornwall._ [Illustration: THE LION ROCK, CORNWALL.] 1812. _A Cornish Road._ [Illustration: A CORNISH ROAD.] 1812. _A Hill Side, Cornwall._ [Illustration: A HILL SIDE, CORNWALL.] 1812. _A Cornish View._ [Illustration: A CORNISH VIEW.] TOUR OF DOCTOR SYNTAX IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. In 1812 the poem and illustrations of _The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque_ were issued as an independent volume, when the success with which it was received was more decidedly marked than when it first appeared in the _Poetical Magazine_ under the title of _The Schoolmaster's Tour_. Five editions were issued between 1812 and 1813. The work was described as _The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque_. A Poem. With new plates. The old subjects, it appears, were re-engraved by Rowlandson's hand, with but slight variations from the originals. The outlines are somewhat less bold, and three new subjects are added; one being the frontispiece, which represents the worthy Doctor at his desk, seated in his armchair, in deep cogitation, touching his forehead as the idea of his famous _Picturesque Tour_ suggests itself to his brain. The window of his study is opened, that he may contemplate the exterior prospect at his ease, while a sketch, by his own hand, in India-ink, is displayed before him. Various papers and books are scattered about, with sundry objects which indicate his versatile accomplishments--a fiddle hung on the wall, books of travel, sheets of the Doctor's original treatise--_Every Man his own Farrier_--with a goodly jar of _cherry bounce_ to rejoice the learned man's spirits. On the titlepage is engraved a quaint vignette of architectural relics, ruins, a castle, &c., the detached monuments being disposed so as to form the word _Picturesque_. The third addition is plate 27, in the body of the Tour, introducing _The Doctor's Dream_ (in his patron's library) _of the Battle of the Books_, which was not included in the work on its original publication. This edition is preceded by an Introduction, which in some degree explains the relative positions--as far as the preparation of the work was concerned--of the artist and William Combe, the author, who thus sets the matter before his public: 'The following poem, if it may be allowed to deserve the name, was written under circumstances whose peculiarity may be thought to justify a communication of them. I undertook to give metrical illustrations of the prints with which Mr. Ackermann decorated the _Poetical Magazine_, a work published by him in monthly numbers, for the reception of original compositions. Many of these engravings were miscellaneous, and those (which were, indeed, the far greater part of them) whose description was submitted to such a muse as mine represented views of interesting objects and beautiful scenery, or were occasional decorations appropriate to the work. Those designs, to which this volume is so greatly indebted, I was informed, would follow in a _series_, and it was proposed to me to shape out a story from them. An etching, or a drawing, was accordingly sent to me every month, and I composed a certain proportion of verse, in which, of course, the subject of the design was included; the rest depended on what my imagination could furnish. When the first print was sent to me I did not know what would be the subject of the second; and in this manner, in a great measure, the artist continued designing, and I continued writing, every month for two years, till a work containing near ten thousand lines was produced; the artist and the writer having no personal communication with or knowledge of each other.... 'Mr. Ackermann has his reasons for risking a republication of it in its present form; and I now feel more than common solicitude that it should answer his expectations.... _The Battle of the Books_ was an after-thought, and forms the novelty of this volume. Liberius si Dixero quid, si forte jocosius; hoc mihi juris, Cum veniâ dabis.--HOR. _S._ lib. i. v. 103. 'I have only to add, that though, on a first view of some of the prints, it may appear as if the clerical character were treated with levity, I am confident in announcing a very opposite impression from a perusal of the work.' The origin of _Doctor Syntax_ is ascribed, with characteristic partiality, to John Bannister, the comedian, by his biographer, John Adolphus. 'Of another graphic series, which owed its existence almost entirely to the invention of Bannister, I have the following account:--Dining at a tavern, with him and a third person, Rowlandson was asked, "What are you about, Rolly?" "Why, nothing in particular," he said. "I think my inventive faculty has been very sluggish of late; I wish one of you would give me a hint." Being asked of what kind, he answered, "I feel in a humour to sketch a series where the object may be made ridiculous without much thinking. I have been making a tour in Cornwall and Devonshire with a friend, who, as I have made sketches on the coast for him, wishes me to introduce adventures at inns, and other comic incidents, in which he was the principal party. But what can I do for such a hero?--a walking turtle--a gentleman weighing four-and-twenty stone--for such scenes he is quite out of the question. I want one of a totally different description." And he named a celebrated tourist, who by a recent publication had given much celebrity to the Lakes. '"I have it!" said Bannister. "You must fancy a skin-and-bone hero, a pedantic old prig, in a shovel-hat, with a pony, sketching-stools, and rattletraps, and place him in such scrapes as travellers frequently meet with--hedge alehouses, second and third rate inns, thieves, gibbets, mad bulls, and the like. Come!" he proceeded, warming with the subject, "give us a sheet of paper, and we'll strike out a few hints." The paper was produced, Bannister gave his ideas, Rowlandson adopted them, Combe explained them in a well-written poem; and to this conversation and to the lively invention of Bannister the public is indebted for a highly favoured publication, _The Tour of Doctor Syntax_.' It is by no means improbable that Bannister's suggestion had something to do with the eccentric personality of the hero of the _Picturesque Tours_; but the author of the _Memoir of John Bannister_ assumes too much when he records that the ideas for the adventures of Doctor Syntax were struck out at a sitting and in the easy fashion he has described; it is known that the original designs were furnished at the rate of three a month, and that their invention was spread over the entire period of the publication. The popularity enjoyed by this Tour was manifested in the number of editions sold; it was further pirated and imitated in various forms. A German edition was published in Berlin in 1822; the poem was translated under the title of _Die Reise des Doktor Syntax um das Malerische aufzusuchen. Ein Gedicht frei aus dem Englischen ins Deutsche übertragen. Lithogr. v. F. E. Rademacher._ The illustrations were copied in outline on stone, either with a fine point or a pen; the lines are wire-like and give neither fullness nor effect; the pictures are also coloured in a feeble and powerless style, and the whole is a very poor rendering, as far as the artist's work is concerned. A French edition, freely translated by M. Gandais, appeared in Paris, with twenty-six engravings--rendered with considerable ability by Malapeau (lith. de G. Engelmann)--drawn on stone with care and spirit in lithographic chalk; these illustrations, printed in a warm tint, and coloured by hand, will compare fairly with even Rowlandson's original etchings. We give the title of this edition:--_Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la recherche du Pittoresque et du Romantique; Poême en XX chants, traduit librement de l'Anglais par M. Gandais, et orné de 26 gravures par Malapeau. À Paris chez l'auteur, rue du Faubourg Saint Denis 45, et Pélicier libraire, cour du Palais Royal._ 1821. The author's advertisement, as written by Combe, is carefully and literally rendered, and the translator has added a slight _avertissement_ of his own, briefly alluding to the reputation enjoyed in England by the original engravings and the descriptive verses which accompany them, and setting forth the circumstances of his own version, &c. Numerous imitations, less legitimate than the foreign translations alluded to, also appeared in this country, such as _The Tour of Doctor Syntax through London_; _Doctor Syntax in Paris, in Search of the Grotesque_; _Doctor Prosody_; _Sentimental Tour through Margate and Hastings by Doctor Comparative, Junr._; and _Doctor Syntax's Life of Napoleon_, which is possibly due to Combe's pen, and derives a strong additional interest from the illustrations, which are fair examples of George Cruikshank's handiwork. A parody, in verse, entitled _The Adventures of Doctor Comicus, by a modern Syntax_, was also issued, with coloured imitations of Rowlandson's designs. The success which had attended the first _Tour of Doctor Syntax_ was so flattering and remunerative that the publisher and his able collaborateurs, the artist and author, projected a second series, entitled _Doctor Syntax in Search of Consolation_--for the loss of that termagant spouse who figures in the original _Tour_, and is decently buried, in the first cantos of the new adventures, to give the hero a fitting cause for pursuing his eccentric travels. The renewal of Dr. Syntax's journeys, which appeared in monthly parts, was completed in 1820, when it was republished by Mr. Ackermann, uniform with the first volume; it was less successful than its predecessor, but it ran through several editions. The plates, which were contributed by Rowlandson, much on his old principle, were as follows:-- Frontispiece.--Doctor Syntax and his Counterpart. Doctor Syntax lamenting the loss of his Wife. " " at the Funeral of his Wife. " " setting out on his Second Tour. " " and the Gypsies. " " loses his Wig. The visit of Doctor Syntax to Widow Hopeful, at York. Doctor Syntax amused with Pat in the Pond. " " in the Glass House. " " visits Eaton Hall, Cheshire. " " making his Will. " " in a Court of Justice. " " present at a Coffee-house Quarrel at Bath. " " and the superannuated Fox-hunter. " " with the Skimmington Riders. " " and the Bees. " " visits a Boarding School for Young Ladies. " " making a Discovery. " " Painting a Portrait. " " Marriage of Doctor Dicky Bend. " " at an Auction. " " and the Bookseller. " " at Freemasons' Hall. Miss Worthy's Marriage--Doctor Syntax in the chair. A third and final Tour, ending with the hero's funeral, concludes the poem. The last volume, which had appeared, like its predecessors, in monthly parts, was put forth in its collected form in 1821; and, similar to the first and second series, with which it was afterwards re-issued, it received sufficient patronage to carry it through several editions, although neither the Second nor Third Tours were reckoned so successful as the original series. The _Third Tour of Doctor Syntax--in Search of a Wife_ appeared with the following 'Preface,' from the pen of the veteran Combe, who, for his private reasons, preferred to continue anonymous throughout. 'This prolonged work is, at length, brought to a close. It has grown to this size under rare and continuing marks of public favour; while the same mode of composition has been employed in the last as in the former volumes. They are all equally indebted to Mr. Rowlandson's talents. 'It may, perhaps, be considered as presumptuous in me, and at my age, to sport even with my own dowdy Muse, but, from the extensive patronage which Doctor Syntax has received, it may be presumed that, more or less, he has continued to amuse: And I, surely, have no reason to be dissatisfied, when Time points at my eightieth year, that I can still afford some pleasure to those who are disposed to be pleased. 'THE AUTHOR.' The illustrations to the third volume, which are quite equal both in spirit, invention, and execution to those designs which suggested the framework of the first and second Tours, are as follows:-- Frontispiece.--Doctor Syntax setting out in search of a Wife. Vignette, on Titlepage.--Doctor Syntax assisting at an Instrumental Trio. Doctor Syntax Soliloquising. " " turned Nurse. The Banns forbidden. Doctor Syntax with a Blue Stocking Beauty. The Cellar Quartetto. Doctor Syntax Presenting a Floral Offering. The Billiard Table. Misfortune at Tulip Hall. The Harvest Home. The Garden Trio. Doctor Syntax at a Card Party. " " Star-gazing. " " in the wrong Lodging-House. " " received by the Maid instead of the Mistress. The Artist's Room. Death of Punch. The Advertisement for a Wife. Doctor Syntax and the Foundling. The result of Purchasing a Blind Horse. A Noble Hunting Party. Introduction to Courtship. Doctor Syntax in Danger. The Funeral of Doctor Syntax. The popularity which attended the three Tours in the form of their original publication induced Mr. Ackermann to issue a fresh edition in 1823. The three volumes were printed in 16mo, instead of royal 8vo, and the plates were re-engraved, one-third of the original size. This pocket edition, containing all the illustrations, in a reduced form, was published at the moderate price, considering the plates were coloured by hand, of seven shillings a volume; the former series having been produced at one guinea per volume. 1813. [Illustration: BACHELOR'S FARE--BREAD AND CHEESE AND KISSES.] _February 10, 1813._ _Bachelor's Fare--Bread and Cheese and Kisses._ Published by T. Tegg (285). _September 1, 1813._ _Summer Amusements at Margate, or a Peep at the Mermaids._ Published by T. Tegg. [Illustration: SUMMER AMUSEMENTS AT MARGATE, OR A PEEP AT THE MERMAIDS.] _September 1, 1813._ _The Last Gasp, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms._ Published by T. Tegg (210).--A physician has been called in, and, with his gold stick in hand, is examining the condition of certain patients who are suffering from the effects of too indiscriminate feeding. A gouty old gentleman, his wife, and their footman are all putting out their tongues--which are white and swollen to an inordinate length; their features express the greatest alarm, and the look of consternation which is thrown into the doctor's face conveys the reverse of comforting reassurance to the unfortunate gourmands. _September 20, 1813._ _Humours of Houndsditch, or Mrs. Shevi in a longing condition._ Published by T. Tegg (213).--A member of the Hebrew tribe, who carries a bag slung on his arm, is bearing forbidden luxuries to two fair representatives of his race. A couple of Jewesses, whose persons are resplendent in jewellery, are leaning over the wicket-gate of their premises, lost in admiration at the spectacle of a little stranger--a sucking-pig--which the tempter, who has led the maternal sow and entire porcine family astray, is holding out for Mrs. Shevi--a sufficiently motherly-looking lady--to salute with a kiss. Another Hebrew gentleman, who is overlooking this transaction, has his face thrown into horrified contortions and his hair standing on end at making the discovery of this incredible depravity. The secret of how the interdicted quadrupeds have come into the possession of the Jew clothesman is explained by a handbill advertising: 'Lost, supposed to have been stolen, a sow and seven pigs. A reward of five pounds is promised for information of the whereabouts of the wanderers.' 1813. _Unloading a Waggon._ Published by T. Tegg (214). [Illustration: UNLOADING A WAGGON.] 1813. _None but the Brave deserve the Fair._ Published by T. Tegg (231).--A gallant huzzar has ridden his charger through a pond which is supposed to isolate the walls of a park and mansion, from the security of which a damsel, 'all in white,' of redundant personal charms, is being helped to elope over the ivy-grown wall by the dashing horseman, to whose custody the lady is unreservedly entrusting the keeping of her fair person. _September 20, 1813._ _A Doleful Disaster, or Miss Fubby Tatarmin's Wig caught Fire._ (Vide _Bath Guide_.)--A stout lady is in all the consternation of a blazing head of hair; the enormous superstructure piled on her head has caught fire at the top from the sconces on the mantel; her armchair is kicked over, and the whole of her household are making a desperate rush on to the scene of the conflagration; the footman has dragged the tablecloth from beneath the tea equipage, which has fallen to destruction, and is endeavouring to envelope the headdress of his mistress in the folds; a black page is discharging a flowerpot of water in the face of the distressed lady; female servants are flinging up their arms and screaming; and, in the rear, the elder servants are hurrying up in great distress. But Madge at the Rooms Must beware of her plumes; For if Vulcan her feather embraces, Like poor Lady Laycock, She'll burn like a haycock, And roast all the Loves and the Graces. ANSTEY'S _Bath Guide_. _November 5, 1813._ _The Two Kings of Terror. Copy of the transparency exhibited at Ackermann's Repository of Arts during the Illuminations of the 5th and 6th November, 1813, in honour of the splendid victories obtained by the Allies over the armies of France, at Leipzic and its environs._--'This subject, representing the two tyrants--viz., the tyrant Buonaparte and the tyrant Death--sitting together on the field of battle, in a manner which promises a more perfect intimacy immediately to ensue, is very entertaining. It is also instructive to observe that the former is now placed in a situation in which all Europe _may see through him_. The emblem, too, of the circle of dazzling light from mere _vapour_, which is so _soon extinguished_, has a good moral effect; and as the gas represents the dying flame, so does the drum, on which he is seated, typify the hollow and noisy nature of the falling usurper.' The above description of the subject appeared in the _Sun_ of Saturday, November 6, 1813. These printed comments arose from the picture itself having been transparent, and from a circle which surmounted the same, indicative of the strength and brotherly union of the Allies, composed of gas of brilliant brightness. (See January 1, 1814.) _November 22, 1813._ _The Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony._ Published by T. Tegg (232).--The success gained by the allied armies over Napoleon and his forces, and the series of French disasters which had culminated at Leipzig, gave rise to rejoicings all over the country, in celebration of the supposed final downfall of the Corsican Emperor, the traditional enemy of England, as the people had been taught to consider him. Norwich, according to the print, is the scene of disorderly revelry. A huge bullock has been roasted whole in the market-place, and the carcase is being cut up and distributed in the streets; the unruly mob fighting over the morsels and wrenching the bones from those who are ravenously picking them; scuffles, struggles, scrimmages, and savage onslaughts are the order of the day. At the same time a puncheon of beer or spirits is broached for gratuitous distribution, and a pretty spectacle of misrule is the consequence. The fair sex are represented as the chief competitors for the drink; pails, cans, and jugs are eagerly filled, and as greedily emptied; the contents being poured down the throats of the holders or down those of their friends, who are opening their mouths to receive the liquor, which is gushing forth in streams. The incidents surrounding the liquor-cart are, if possible, more disreputable and degrading than those transpiring on all sides of the trestles on which the ox is being dismembered by a pair of butcher's men, armed with a chopper and a huge carver. Some of the female patriots are reduced to insensibility, and efforts are being made to revive one poor creature, who is lying unconscious in the midst of the struggling mass, either overpowered by the potency of the drink or smothered by the pressure; buckets of the fluid are being emptied over the prostrate sufferer by tipsy Samaritans, without alleviating her condition. The town of Norwich is given up to the gala; flags are flying, and illuminations and fireworks render the sight more animated. A tumultuous procession is struggling along, bearing guns, pikes, &c., and carrying the effigy of Buonaparte to be gibbeted or burnt at a bonfire. Flags head the mob, inscribed _Downfall of the Tyrant_; _Peace and Plenty_, &c. [Illustration: A LONG PULL, A STRONG PULL, AND A PULL ALL TOGETHER.] _November 25, 1813._ _A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together._ Published by T. Tegg (233).--The end of 1813 promised to witness the downfall of the great 'little Boney;' one misfortune followed another; ally after ally abandoned the conqueror, who in the hour of victory had behaved magnanimously to the subjugated States, and they in return deserted their new friend when disasters were pressing on him--a sure proof of the danger of confiding in alliances extracted at the point of the sword or made in bad faith on grounds of desperate expediency. As we have seen, the blow came from the North: the treachery of Bernadotte, King of Sweden, a man who owed his elevation to the Emperor, pointed the way to prostrate Europe to free herself from the ambitious thraldom of Napoleon; the Russian Bear broke his false slumbers, the Austrian and Prussian Eagles escaped from their chains, Spain was cleared of the invaders, and lastly the Kingdom of Holland revolted in the rear of the disabled Corsican. The king, Napoleon's brother, Louis, whom he had imposed on this kingdom, had voluntarily abdicated the crown in favour of his son, a minor, in 1810. The subject is treated allegorically by Rowlandson. _The Sun of Tyranny_ is setting on the deep; the fleets of the allies are riding on the seas, which are once more free, and the Dutch are helping to push off the Texel fleet to join the common cause. As the Allies marched against France after Napoleon's defeat at Leipzig, a combined force was sent against Holland, which had been incorporated with the French Empire in 1810, and placed under the constitution of Jan. 1, 1811, the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands being united under the dominion of France. The Prussian and Russian forces, under General Bülow, were joined by a detachment from England under General Graham; the old Orange party once more came into activity, and on November 30, 1813, the hereditary Stadtholder arrived at the Hague. The caricaturist has simplified his view of the situation by ignoring the change of affairs that had intervened since 1810, when the Duke of Piacenza became the Emperor's representative in Amsterdam until 1811, when the State was merged into the French Empire. The artist has assumed that the kingdom had remained as administered at the resignation of Louis, July 1, 1810; and accordingly the abdicated monarch, without his crown, is pictured dancing about in a distracted state on the soil of Holland, deploring: 'Oh! Brother Nap, Brother Nap, we shan't be left with half a crown a-piece!' Napoleon is represented, according to the usual fashion of the satirists, flying about in an ungovernable frenzy as he views the receding fleet and recognises the revolt of the Netherlanders: 'Oh! Brother Joe, I'm all fire; my passion eats me up! Such unlooked-for storms of ills fall on me! It beats down all my cunning; I cannot bear it! My ears are filled with noise, my eyes grow dim, and feeble shakings seize every limb!' The _Long Pull, Strong Pull, and a Pull all together_ is taking place on the mainland. The weight and persevering force of John Bull is telling on the towing-line; the Don Spaniard is hand-over-hand with the national prototype, a condition of things marvellously altered since the days of the caricature. A Russian, in furs, is the next in energy; an Austrian huzzar has the rope well over his shoulder; a Prussian and others are throwing their exertions into the haul; and all is moving as merrily as could be desired. _November 27, 1813._ _The Corsican Toad under a Harrow._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Corsican, who is represented as both prematurely aged and haggard, is sprawled, spread-eaglewise, on the ground; upon him is a formidable harrow, which is kept in its place by the obese figure of a traditional Hollander, who is leisurely smoking, with his hands in his pockets and an Orange favour in his hat, in philosophic indifference to the situation and sufferings of the victim, who is exclaiming, 'Oh! this heavy Dutchman! Oh! had I not enough to bear before!!!' A Cossack is goading on the prostrate leader of the French with his lance; and a bird of prey is swooping down, attracted by the smell of carrion. The harrow is in vigorous hands, representatives of Austria, Prussia, and other German Powers; Spaniards, Portuguese, and a British tar are tugging away with hearty good-will. _November 27, 1813._ _The Execution of two celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying Speeches, November 5th, 1813._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The effigy of Guy Faux, with his lantern, is suspended by a rope round his neck to a gallows, and facing him, on another gallows, is the figure of the Emperor Napoleon, in his uniform as general of the French army. A bonfire is blazing up bravely, and a party of schoolboys and villagers are the delighted spectators. A note informs us that the scene is not an imaginary one, but is a faithful representation of a 'bonfire at Thorpe Hall, near Louth, Lincolnshire, on 5th November, 1813, given by the Rev. W. C---- to the boys belonging to the seminary at Louth, in consequence of the arrival of news of the decisive defeat of Napoleon Buonaparte by the Allies, at 11 o'clock P.M. on the 4th, and Louth bells ringing all night.' _Guy Faux's Dying Speech._ I, Guy Faux, meditating my country's ruin by the clandestine and diabolical means of Gunpowder Plot, was most fortunately discovered and brought to condign punishment by Old England, and here I bewail my fate. _Napoleon Buonaparte's Dying Speech._ I, Napoleon Buonaparte, flattered by all the French nation that I was invincible, have most cruelly and most childishly attempted the subjugation of the world. I have lost my fleets, I have lost the largest and finest armies ever heard of, and I am now become the indignation of the world and the scorn and sport of boys. Had I not spurned the firm wisdom of the Right Hon. William Pitt, I might have secured an honourable peace, I might have governed the greatest nation; but, alas! my ambition has deceived me, and Pitt's plans have ruined me. _November 29, 1813._ _Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug Returned with a Dutch Squeeze._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The great Emperor is stretched, sleepless, on his imperial state bed, with the diadem above and a row of captive crowns embroidered round the canopy, the fasces of Roman lictors at the feet, and the furniture powdered with golden eagles and fleur-de-lis. This luxurious couch is not to be coveted, since tranquil rest is out of the question. The Emperor is writhing in agony, saddled with a nightmare which is not to be dislodged. The Hollanders at this time contrived to shake themselves free from their fraternal friends the French, who had laid their country under contributions until the disciples of freedom prayed to be delivered from their tutors. The example of Holland and the victories ending with the triumph at Leipzig gained by the Allies, and especially the successes secured under Wellington, re-encouraged the subjugated and prostrate Powers to look forward to the recovery of their freedom, and to take their revenge on the little conqueror. A stout Dutchman, dressed in his national costume, and wearing the Orange cockade, is, according to the picture, returning the lesson in fraternity which had cost him dear at the hands of the French, by showing his instructor the vigour of a hearty Dutch squeeze. This heavy incubus, with his hands in his pockets, is smoking his pipe, and puffing the distasteful fumes full into the face of the powerless and disgusted Corsican, and crying, 'Orange Boven!' _November 30, 1813._ _Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe._ Published by T. Tegg (234).--The heavy Hollander, still sporting his Orange colours, is finally roused to dispose of the intruders by the most summary and quickest method possible; with his pipe in one hand and a squab bottle of Schiedam, or Dutch courage, held like a mallet in the other, Mynheer is giving Nap a taste of Dutch weight; one vigorous kick has propelled the little Corsican high into the air and plump into the arms of the Father of Evil, who is emerging from his 'Brimstone Lake' to make sure of his friend. In the distance another Dutchman, provided with a pitchfork, is prodding Napoleon's brother Louis--who had been created King of Holland--towards the same refuge for the destitute; the usurper's crown being left behind in the flight. _December 4, 1813._ _The Corsican Munchausen--humming the Lads of Paris._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Emperor, with all the bombast, bravado, and speciousness of which he had an excellent command, has summoned a meeting of his faithful subjects and supporters--who, judging from the expression of their faces, appear but an unwilling and disaffected audience--in order to present his infant son to the people. The scion of the great captain is dressed in a miniature uniform, with a long sabre trailing on the ground, and a gold stick, which he is trying to fancy is a riding-horse. The Imperial throne, the back of which bears a Medusa's head and a globe of the world, is capsized by Munchausen's manoeuvrings. The Corsican is vapouring on a grand scale, trying ineffectually to raise the ardour of his dupes: 'Did I not swear I would destroy Austria? Did I not swear I would destroy Prussia? Did I not leave the Russians 1,200 pieces of cannon to build a monument of the victory of Moscow? Did I not lead 498,000 men to gather fresh laurels in Russia? Did I not burn Moscow, and leave 400,000 brave soldiers to perish in the snow, for the good of the French nation? Did I not swear I would destroy Sweden? Did I not swear I would have colonies and commerce? Did I not build more ships than you could find sailors for? Did I not burn all the British produce, bought and paid for by my faithful merchants, before their faces, for the good of them and of my good people of Paris? Have I not called my troops from Holland, that they might not winter in that foggy climate? Have I not called my troops from Spain and Portugal, to the ruin of the English? Did I not change my religion and turn Turk, for the good of the French nation? Have I not blown up the corporal for blowing up the bridge? Have I not robbed the churches of twenty flags to send to my Empress, for the loss of my own flags and eagles? And now, for the good of my Empire, behold, O ye Lads of Paris! I have put the King of Rome in breeches!!!' _December 6, 1813._ _Funking the Corsican._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The situation of the Emperor, as pictured by Rowlandson, is becoming critical; he is elevated on a cask of 'real Hollands Geneva,' on the top of which he is dancing about in exasperation, unable to assist himself, and surrounded by his enemies, who are all putting the great conqueror to his wits' end and revenging themselves by smoking out the Corsican; each of the representatives of the rebellious States and Powers being armed with a pipe, and pouring volumes of the fumes round the person of the tortured general; Spain, Portugal, Hanover; the Cossack, the Pole, Austria, Sweden, Bavaria, and Prussia, seated on a cannon, are all assisting; the King of Würtemburg is provided with a flask of 'Würtemburg drops;' John Bull has his foaming jug of 'brown stout;' while the Dutch Mynheer, seated on a cask of Dutch herrings, with his tobacco-pouch and twists of pigtail, is drawing a flagon of Geneva to drink success to his Serene Highness, sending out a volume of tobacco-fumes, which are completing the irritation of the badgered Corsican, who is kicking off the head of the Hollands cask, into which he will evidently plump head over ears-- The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets. Before disappearing condign vengeance is threatened on the heads of his enemies: 'Oh! you base traitors and deserters! Eleven hundred thousand Lads of Paris shall roast every one of you alive, as soon as they can catch you!' _December 10, 1813._ _The Mock Phoenix!!! or a vain attempt to rise again._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Holland, in the person of a Dutch skipper, and Russia, in that of a Cossack, are blowing and stirring a fire which is to consume the Corsican. Flames are issuing from the furnace, and, in spite of the exertions of the stokers, the figure of the Emperor is seen dwarfed, but still intact, in the thick of the fire, but whether he will rise seems doubtful; his diadem is in full blaze, while the orb and sceptre are snatched away by certain diabolic claws, and the phoenix process threatens to prove a signal failure. Serpents are crawling out of the mouth of the furnace; showers of snakes, dragons, devils, and all kinds of monsters, kin of the phoenix, are hovering amidst the smoke, and making hostile demonstrations against the declining conqueror. _December 12, 1813._ _Friends and Foes--up he Goes--Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Cloud._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The Emperor is left, unsupported, in the hands of his enemies, now turned into tormentors: he is thrown into a blanket and tossed up into the air, and is suffering worse discomforts than did Sancho Panza under a similar infliction; crown, sceptre, and sword are shaken off. '_O misericorde!_' cries the flying Munchausen as he is sent up to the clouds. John Bull (whose wig and hat have been thrown aside), the Dutch Mynheer, and Spanish Don are performing wonders with their side of the blanket; then come the Cossack, the Pope, the Pole, the Prince Imperial of Austria, the Emperors of Russia and Austria, and the Kings of Prussia, Hanover, and Würtemburg, who are all lending a hand to torment the Corsican. _December 14, 1813._ _Political Chemists and German Retorts, or Dissolving the Rhenish Confederacy._ Published by R. Ackermann.--A delicate operation, which has engaged the attention of all the leading Powers of Europe, is supposed to be proceeding. The colossal power of the Corsican is undergoing transmutation, and the conqueror is gradually being resolved into his original elements. A _German Stove_ supplies the furnace, and the fuel is recruited from John Bull's _Coal Tub_; that patriotic person is assisting the process as one of the leading experimental chemists; _Dutch bellows_ are furnishing various powerful blasts; the _Spanish Don_ is pounding some effectually irresistible chemicals in his famous mortar, _Saragossa_. The Corsican has been forced into a receiver; Bernadotte is pouring in a portion of _sulphate of Swedish iron_ before the cover is fixed on; the Emperor, who has been reduced to mere pigmy proportions, is praying for time: 'Oh, spare me till the King of Rome is ripe for mischief yet to come!' In various retorts are seen the several elements which entered into the Imperial analysis, now resolved apart--_Intrigue and Villany_, _Ambition and Folly_, _Gasconade and Lies_, _Arrogance and Atrocity_, _Fire and Sword_, _Murder and Plunder_. All the leading States of Europe are engaged in the operation; the King of Würtemburg is giving his instructions; Prussia, Austria, Hesse, &c., are all interested in the success of the operation. The Pope has contributed two potent agents, _Fulminating powder_, and _Drops from the vial of wrath_. Russia, Poland, the Emperor of Austria, &c., are seated, as chemists, at a table dividing out the agents selected to dissolve the structure raised by Napoleon. From certain tracts at the Cossack's feet we learn that the 'liberty of Germany' and the 'downfall of Boney' are settled projects; while the name of Napoleon, as protector of the Rhenish confederacy, is crossed out, and that of 'Francis, Emperor of Austria, restored 1813,' is substituted in its old ascendency. _Napoléon le Grand. Inventée par Dubois; Alex. Tardieu effigiem del. Deposée à la Bibliothèque Impériale._--A parody of the French plate of Napoleon's apotheosis-- Astre brillant, immense, il éclaire, il féconde, Et seul fait, à son gré, tous les destins du monde.-VIGÉE. The head of Napoleon appears as the centre of the constellation, _Polar Star_, elevated, in this case, like that of a traitor, on a pole, and surrounded by entwined and hissing serpents. Above is the face of Satan, wearing a crown of _Damnation_, supported by two escutcheons, marked _Heart of Tyrant_, and _Vulture_, with scourges and pronged forks. The pole is elevated on the great globe; in either corner is a French eagle; above the Imperial ensigns are pikes, axes, and standards, 'flags manufactured for the Empress,' &c. The lustre of the constellation, Napoleon, is likely to suffer an eclipse from the sudden descent of a Dutch comet--a philosophic Hollander, seated astride on a barrel of Hollands Schiedam, the contents of which he is ignominiously discharging over the head of the solitary star of the firmament. The golden rays with which the _astre brillant_ is illuminating the universe owe their source to the following luminous achievements:-- Assisting in the assassination of Louis the Sixteenth, my Benefactor. Murdering the citizens of Paris under Robespierre. Murdering the citizens of Toulon. Insulting the Pope, robbing and plundering the churches, &c., &c. Poisoning my own sick soldiers at the hospital at Jaffa. Murdering the Duke d'Angouléme. Treacherously betraying the King of Spain and his family. Murdering the inhabitants of Madrid in cold blood. Murdering Captain Wright in the Temple, at Paris. Marrying two wives and intriguing with the daughter of one of them. The murder of Palm, of Hofer, &c., &c. Leading 500,000 Frenchmen to perish in Russia by the severity of the season 1812. Losing another similar army the following year in Germany, 1813. Writing lying bulletins. Losing all the colonies, commerce, and shipping. And for all these brilliant exploits I am now to be sent headlong to the Devil. _December 25, 1813._ _Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Napoleon is pictured, before his reverses became of a decided character, contemplating realising the conquests he had in hand, with a possible view of retiring from the trade. The Emperor has a sale-pulpit, and is himself officiating as auctioneer; the lot which is being offered is the crown of Spain; an old general is holding up the diadem, and the auctioneer, impatient at the indifference of the purchasers, is crying, 'What! no bidding for the crown of Spain? Then take the other crowns and lump them into one lot'--referring to a pile of diadems, the crowns of Russia, Austria, Prussia, the Papal tiara, &c., thrown into a corner, with bundles of standards, 'lots of useless eagles,' &c. Lot 2, 'Twenty flags, the property of the Empress,' 'Kingdom of Prussia,' 'Kingdom of Westphalia,' 'Saxony,' 'United Provinces,' &c. The Empress is standing behind her husband, with the infant prince in her arms. Napoleon's heir is dressed in a uniform like his father's; his face is that of a monkey. 'I suppose daddy will put us up for sale?' he is represented as saying to the Empress. The Mock Auction has drawn plenty of company together. The Dutchman is smoking his pipe with his accustomed philosophy; a British tar is patting him on the back, as his very cordial ally, and ridiculing the Corsican's failure. The King of Würtemburg, Russia pictured as a Cossack, Austria as a huzzar, Prussia, Bavaria, and other Powers are present. The Spanish Don is making light of Buonaparte's pretence of offering his crown for sale; 'That a crown!' he is shouting. 'It's not worth half a crown!' _December 30, 1813._ _How to Vault in the Saddle, or a new-invented Patent Crane for the Accommodation of Rheumatic Rectors._ Rowlandson delin. and publisher.--The incident depicted is taking place at the door of the rectory, beside the church porch, where a crane has been erected for the accommodation of the gouty and unwieldy divine. Two frisky and solidly-built damsels are hauling away at a rope, to which a sling is attached. The corpulent rector is swinging in mid air, preparatory to being lowered into the saddle; in his pocket is shown a discourse on the apposite text--'_He that humbleth himself shall be exalted_.' A grinning groom is holding the head of a high-cruppered horse; the minister's steed is a curiously constructed instance of equine anatomy, fondly reviving the image of the faithful _Grizzle_, rendered memorable as the _Rosinante_ of Doctor Syntax, the long-enduring companion of his famous _Tour in Search of the Picturesque_. 1813 (?). _Witches in a Hayloft._ Woodward delin., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (226).--Two witches of orthodox type, with broomsticks, red cloaks, and steeple-crowned hats, are seated at a cauldron, working incantations, to assist at which serpents, hobgoblins, and various weird monsters are conjured up. A rustic clown, with a lantern and hayfork, who has thrown back the trapdoor, and is ascending to the hayloft for some purpose, is paralysed with horror and affright at the unholy spectacle suddenly revealed to his sight. 1813. _Business and Pleasure._ Published by T. Tegg. (272). 1813. _The Glutton._ Published by T. Tegg (274). 1813. _The Quaker and the Commissioners of Excise._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (276).--Four well-fed Commissioners, the members of a board, seated at the green baize, are cross-questioning a Quaker, represented in a suit of conventional sad-coloured apparel, and wearing the typical broad-brimmed hat. The humility of the sectarian has proved too deep for the inquisitors, whose exactions he is evading. The chairman is indignantly remarking, 'What an impertinent fellow to keep on his hat before such a dignified assembly!' Cries one of the examiners, 'None of your _thees_ and _thous_ here, sir--come to the point--we know you have evaded certain duties.' 'Pray, sir, do you know what we sit here for?' pertinently demands another commissioner; to which the Quaker, with clasped hands, and rocking himself, like _Mawworm_, on his toes, responds, 'Verily I do--some sit here for five hundred, others for a thousand; and moreover I have heard it reported that some sit here for two thousand pounds per annum!' [Illustration: DR. SYNTAX, IN THE MIDDLE OF A SMOKING HOT POLITICAL SQUABBLE, WISHES TO WET HIS WHISTLE.] 1813. _Doctor Syntax, in the Middle of a Smoking Hot Political Squabble, wishes to Wet his Whistle._ Published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside (209). 1813 (?). _A-going! A-going!_ Newton del., Rowlandson sculp., Published by T. Tegg.--A wretched invalid--propped up in an armchair, without the power to assist himself--has evidently done with the 'prescriptions, boluses, and blisters' at his side, since the ranges of physic-bottles which ornament his apartment have, to all appearance, finished the patient's business effectually; he is visited by a corpulent self-satisfied practitioner, whose hat is under one arm and his cane under the other; the doctor is addressing his unconscious patient: 'My dear sir, you look this morning the picture of health; I have no doubt at my next visit I shall find you utterly cured of all your earthly infirmities.' 1813 (?). _Giving up the Ghost, or one too many._ Newton del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (292).--Stretched on a poor pallet, in a bare chamber, lies a wretched sufferer; by his side, sleeping in an armchair, is a lace-ruffled and powdered doctor, in whose pocket appears a dose labelled _Final_. An undertaker, in professional weeds, is coming in at the door, with his crape-bound mute's wand in his hand, and a coffin strapped on his shoulder. The ghostly personification of Death, as a skeleton, holding up his hour-glass, is pointing his dart through the latticed window. Below the chair of the smug slumbering practitioner appears a paper bearing the well-known lines:-- I purge, I bleeds, I sweats 'em; Then, if they die, I lets 'em! 1813. _The Cobbler's Cure for a Scolding Wife._ Published by T. Tegg (294). [Illustration: THE COBBLER'S CURE FOR A SCOLDING WIFE.] 1813 (?). _Cracking a Joke._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (296). 1813 (?). _The Ghost of my Departed Husband, or whither, my Love, ah! whither art thou gone?_ Rowlandson sculp.--A grotesque scene in a churchyard. An old lady is rolling over in consternation amongst the graves, and with apparently some substantial motive for her alarm; a fantastic monster, in a red nightcap, has tripped her up, while an old gentleman, cautiously proceeding with staff and lantern, is very considerably shocked at the lady's sudden upset. 1813. _Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat at Home for the Holidays._ Published by T. Tegg (296). 1813. Engelbach (Lewis). _Letters from Italy_, (_Repository of Arts_, 1809-13). Republished as _Naples and the Campana Felice_. Seventeen plates by T. Rowlandson. (See 1815.) 1813. _Poetical Sketches of Scarborough._ Text signed 'J. P.' (J. B. Papworth), text initialled 'W.' (Rev. Francis Wrangham), and anonymous text written by William Combe. The titlepage runs thus:--'_Poetical Sketches of Scarborough. Illustrated by twenty-one engravings of humorous subjects. Coloured from original designs made upon the spot by J. Green, and etched by T. Rowlandson._ London: Printed for R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1813.' 'Advertisement.--The originals of the plates introduced in this volume were sketches made as _souvenirs_ of the place during a visit to Scarborough in the season of 1812. They were not intended for publication; but being found to interest many persons of taste, several of whom expressed a desire to possess engravings of them, and some gentlemen having offered to add metrical illustrations to each, the present form of publication has been adopted. 'The several authors were not personally acquainted with each other. If this circumstance, and that of every design having been made previously to the composition of a single couplet, be considered fair ground of extenuation for faults, they claim its advantages.' _Illustrations._ Frontispiece.--Widow Ducker, and her Nymphs. A Trip to Scarbro'. (The Coach upset in a Duckpond.) (York.) The Breakfast. (Parlour of the 'Old Bell Inn.') The Spa. (Spa Well Stairs.) Spa Terrace. Boot and Shoe Shop. The Castle (and North Shore). The Warm Bath. Cornelian Bay. Sea Bathing. A Drive on the Sands (Newby and Scalby). The Church and Churchyard. The Shower Bath. The Library. The Promenade. The Theatre. The Ball-room. The Terrace Steps. The Water Party.--Wet Quakers. The Post Office. The Departure. _August 16, 1813._ _The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. A Poem._ Illustrations drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson. [Dr. Syntax originally appeared, in parts, in the _Poetical Magazine_.] Frontispiece.--The Rev. Dr. Syntax. The Rev. Dr. Syntax Setting out on his Tour to the Lakes. " " Losing his way. " " Stopped by Highwaymen. " " Bound to a Tree by Highwaymen. The Rev. Dr. Syntax Disputing his Bill with the Landlady. " " Copying the Wit of the Window. " " Entertained at College. " " Pursued by a Bull. " " Mistakes a Gentleman's House for an Inn. " " among the Tombstones. " " Tumbling into the Water. " " Loses his Money on the Raceground at York. " " at a Review. " " with my Lord. " " made Free of the Cellar. " " Sketching the Lakes. " " Drawing after Nature. " " Robbed of his property. " " Sells his horse 'Grizzle.' " " Rural Sports. " " with the Dairymaid. " " at Liverpool. " " Reading his Tour. " " Preaching. " " with the Bookseller. " " at Covent Garden Theatre. The Doctor's Dream: 'The Battle of the Books.' The Rev. Dr. Syntax returned from his Tour. " " taking Possession of his Living. 1814. _January 1, 1814._ _The Double Humbug, or the Devil's Imp Praying for Peace._ Published by R. Ackermann.--In two compartments: _Napoleon before his Slaves_, and _Napoleon before his Conquerors_. The first view represents the Senate; the Emperor is standing on his throne, which is propped upon the crowns of conquered kingdoms; his dark friend, the Devil, is leaning over the back of the Imperial chair and prompting the specious harangue which Napoleon is addressing to the senators, who do not seem to be much interested in the proclamation, and, on the whole, according to the artist's showing, look very like a body of imbeciles. _Extracts from Buonaparte's Speech. Sunday, December 19, 1813._--'Senators, Councillors of State, Deputies from the Departments to the Legislative Body,--Splendid victories have raised the glory of the French arms during this campaign. In these weighty circumstances it was my first thought to call you all around me. I have never been seduced by prosperity; I have conceived and executed great designs for the prosperity and the happiness of the world. As a monarch and a father, I feel that peace adds to the security of thrones and that of families. I have accepted proposals and the preliminaries. It is necessary to recruit my armies by numerous levies, and an increase of taxes becomes indispensable. I am satisfied with the sentiments of my people of Italy, Denmark, Naples, America, and the nineteen Swiss Cantons, and have acknowledged the laws which England has in vain sought, during four centuries, to impose on France. I have ordered discharges of artillery on my coming and leaving you.' The other side of the picture displays the fallen Emperor under an entirely opposite aspect; this time he has to confront his enemies, and a totally changed demeanour is adopted. The Corsican is on his knees; before him is his sword, a pile of standards, and the diadems he had abstracted from numerous crowned heads; the crown of France he has tucked under his arm; all the rest he is offering to restore to his enemies, the rightful owners, who have mustered in force and are completely masters of the situation. The attitudes of the Allies are expressive of their indignation at 'Boney's' shameful avowals; while Talleyrand, on his lame leg, in the greatest trepidation at the dangers which face him, is offering to swear to the truth of the damaging admissions which his master has found it expedient to make, since falsehood will not serve him in this quarter. 'Gentlemen, Emperors, Rhenish Confederations, &c., &c., &c.,--Behold before you a fallen impostor, who has for many years been drunk and intoxicated with ambition, arrogance, and insolence; who has deceived, cheated, and tricked you on many occasions; who has foolishly and wickedly lost, within a twelvemonth, a million of brave but deluded Frenchmen; who has conceived the great and diabolical design of enslaving the world, and has lost all his friends except Yankee Maddison. Now, gentlemen, to make amends for my sins, I solicit your pardon and ask for peace on your own terms, gentlemen, and I will strictly adhere to it till.... You may take all those crowns back again, except the one belonging to the Bourbons. My Empress sends you also back the twenty flags I found in some of the churches, in the course of my flight from Leipzig. As for the story, gentlemen, of the corporal and the blowing up of the bridge, you must know 'twas mere humbug to gull the lads of Paris.' _January 1, 1814._ _Death and Buonaparte._ Published at Ackermann's Repository.--The Corsican, who had faced and conquered Fate on so many fields of battle, is at length confronted with the grim foe under circumstances which lend additional terrors to his proximity. The reverses which overtook the conqueror at Leipzig are already threatening the downfall of that intrepid will and shaking a self-possession hitherto imperturbable. Rowlandson has taken advantage of the thickening disasters, which had then commenced to check the prowess of the Emperor's armies, to represent the Corsican in a fit of despondency, forlorn and abstracted, seated on a drum in an attitude of dejection, with his head between his hands, staring in the face of the King of Terrors, of whose close company he is seemingly too self-occupied to take much heed. The grim destroyer, as the skeleton Death, is watching the baffled general face to face, assuming a parody of his attitude, and seated on a gun, with a broken eagle standard at his bony feet. The Russian, Austrian, Prussian, Bavarian, and other allied armies are streaming along in unbroken hosts, scattering the dismayed legions of France, and making havoc amidst the ranks of the discouraged Grand Army, which is melting away before the combined forces. _The transparency exhibited at Ackermann's Repository_ (See Nov. 5, 1813) _on the occasion of the illuminations for the victory of Leipzig_. _January, 1814._ _Madame Véry, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris._ T. N. del., Rowlandson sculp. (348). _January, 1814._ _La Belle Limonadière au Café des Mille Colonnes. Palais Royal, Paris._ T. N. del., Rowlandson sculp. _Café des Mille Colonnes--'Dance of Life.'_ This sober verse, this tranquil strain, Were it to strive, would strive in vain That in its couplets should be shown The Café of the Mille Colonnes. The pencil gives a better ken Of its fair Queen--for, ah, no pen Can paint her glory's grand design, At least an earth-made pen like mine; I therefore leave it as 'tis done, To the rare skill of ROWLANDSON; By whose enliv'ning, vivid touch, To which this volume owes so much, The lady's splendour will survive When all her graces cease to live, And the proud mirrors shall no more Reflect her beauties ten times o'er; Or when another takes her chair, Not half so fat, if half as fair. [Illustration: MADAME VÉRY.] An extract from Planta's 'New Picture of Paris' is added by way of footnote: 'The Café des Mille Colonnes is in the Palais Royal, and receives its title from the beautiful gilt columns which are reflected by enormous mirrors, disposed with such skill that they appear to be at least a thousand. The room presents an overwhelming glare of decoration. The priestess, or rather the divinity, of this luxurious temple is unrivalled among these places of public entertainment for the charms of her person, the splendour of her dress, and the elegance of her manners. The elevated seat which she occupies was once the throne of the Viceroy of Italy, and was purchased by the proprietor of the coffee-house for the exorbitant sum of twelve thousand livres.' [Illustration: LA BELLE LIMONADIÈRE.] _January 30, 1814._ _Quarter Day, or Clearing the Premises, without consulting your Landlord._ Published by T. Tegg (318).--A cart has been driven to the door of a certain residence, and the ladies of the establishment are hastily heaping all the contents of the house--furniture, bedding, culinary, and other utensils--indiscriminately into the conveyance. _February 10, 1814._ _Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow-women Basting a Beadle._ Published by T. Tegg (310).--The beadle of a provision market, who has laid hands on the barrow of a seller of black puddings, has been seized by the nose, in a fashion to blind both eyes at once, by a muscular female, to whom the overturned barrow belongs; her stalwart right arm and massive fist at the same time are making energetic play on the person of the discomfited functionary, who has become, from some act of interference on his part, the centre of a general attack; a dog is threatening his legs, and a hag is belabouring his rear with her basket. Butchers and poulterers' men are enjoying the diversion. [Illustration: THE PROGRESS OF GALLANTRY.] _February 14, 1814._ _Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest._ Published by T. Tegg (313). [Illustration: A TAILOR'S WEDDING.] _February 20, 1814._ _A Tailor's Wedding._ Published by T. Tegg (315). _March 1, 1814._ _Crimping a Quaker._ Published by T. Tegg (317, originally published as 261). [Illustration: CRIMPING A QUAKER.] _March 2, 1814._ _Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzig Fair._ Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.--The Emperor Napoleon, dressed in the simple and familiar habit by which his figure is best recognised, the little cocked hat, the green coat, buttoned across the chest, the white waistcoat and breeches, is tearing his hardest towards 'Maynz' and the Rhine; a frightened hare, suggestive of the Imperial courage, is scampering before him and marking the way. The 'little Corporal' carries, instead of a walking-stick, the effigy of the great Emperor of Germany, _Carolus Magnus_, at the head of a pole. On his back is a pack, from which the various collections he had previously gathered are suffered to escape: Italy, Holland, Switzerland, Rheinland, Hanstat Département, Poland; paper prints of soldiers, _Alte Garde_ and _Junge Garde_--are blowing away and being left behind in the flight. _March 12, 1814._ _The Devil's Darling._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The Dark Fiend in person, drawn on a tremendous scale, with his claws, horns, hoofs, tail, and terror-striking accessories, is seated on his sulphurous floor, cradling and dandling his pet progeny, '_Little Boney_;' the figure of the Corsican is wrapped up like a mummy in swaddling-clothes, bound round with tricolor ribands; the face is alone exposed; and his Infernal Majesty is contemplating the calm, thoughtful, wax mask-like countenance of his reputed vicegerent on earth with earnest attention; his own features are wearing an expression which is at least threatening; the Legion of Honour, instituted by the Emperor, is held out by the apocryphal fiend as a bauble to tempt the spoiled child in his lap. _April 9, 1814._ _Blucher the Brave extracting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound._ Published by T. Tegg (322).--The Corsican has been run down; the sturdy figure of the indomitable General Blucher is shown acting as his executioner. Having come up with the enemy and beaten him, the general is shaking the bloodhound out of his trappings; sword, diadem, and habit are cast aside, and the creature is swinging in the Prussian's iron grasp, a mere frightened cur, with nothing of the dreaded 'Boney' left but his head. A boat is on the shore, and the fugitive, _Brother Joe_, the rejected 'intrusive King' of Spain, in mortal terror is running his hardest to embark for the Island of Elba; the boatman is loading in the future provision, £20,000 a year, the income decreed the Corsican for his new state. Besides the deportation of the Buonapartes another scene is transpiring: Louis the Eighteenth, a portly and good-natured-looking sovereign, is received with acclamations from all sides, while his friends the Allies discreetly remain in the rear; the white flag of the Bourbons, with its _fleur de lis_, is waving over the restored descendant of St. Louis; the monarch's legitimate crown is restored, and the figure of Peace personified is adding a laurel wreath; Churchmen and some of 'Nap's' old servants are offering their homage, and the wily Talleyrand has apparently 'ratted' judiciously at the critical moment, as the change of masters has not displaced the veteran diplomatist, and he is waiting on the King with a new 'list of ministers for your Majesty's approval.' _April 12, 1814._ _Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox. Scene the Last._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Neither the subject nor its title are altogether original, as, some six years previously, Rowlandson's contemporary, James Gillray, had chosen to illustrate the reverses which had attended the French arms in Spain by a similar cartoon, in which George the Third appeared as the huntsman, holding out the carcass of the Corsican fox. Both conceptions, in these instances, as subsequent events proved, were somewhat premature as far as the conclusiveness of the performance was concerned. Prince Blucher, the valiant old trooper, has taken the lead of the field; he has dismounted from his horse, whose bridle he is holding in his left hand, while his right is locked round the throat of the Fox, who is struggling and clawing vainly to get free; 'Boney's' face is turning the pallid hue of deadly fear in sight of the eager pack of hounds, which are showing their teeth and leaping forward to rend the vermin to fragments; the dogs are of good strain; on their collars may be read the names of those generals who finally outwitted the Corsican--Wellington, Swartzenberg, Kutusoff, Platoff, Crown Prince, York, &c., &c. The allied Emperors and Kings are riding down to be 'in at the death,' and in the distance are seen burning towns, which have been recently devastated by the ravages of the Corsican in his career of ambition. _April 12, 1814._ _Bloody Boney, the Carcass Butcher, left off Trade and Retiring to Scarecrow Island._ Published by T. Tegg (323).--The exiled general is reduced from his state; he is meanly travelling Elbawards, and has reached the seashore, whence he is to embark for his island residence. A gibbet by the way, with a rope in readiness, is serving as a fingerpost to point the road; vultures, which fly round this suggestive object, express a desire to pick the bones of the retiring 'carcass butcher.' All the splendours of 'Boney's' surroundings are stripped bare; he is riding on a rough-coated donkey, and wearing a 'fool's cap' in place of a crown; his only provision is a bag of brown bread; his consort, loose and ragged, is seated at the crupper on the same beast, which is being unmercifully flogged with a stick labelled '_Bâton Marcéchal_;' 'Boney' is lost in terror; his juvenile heir, lately made King of Rome, is preceding the _cortége_, mounted on a 'Corsican dog.' A French postilion, of the old school, is jumping about for joy, in his huge bucket-like jack-boots, flourishing his whip, and rejoicing to see the backs of the usurping Corsican and his party: 'Be gar, you _coquin_, now I shall drive my old friends and _bonnes_ customers _de_ English. _Vive le Roi et la Poste Royale!_' _April 15, 1814._ _The Rogue's March._ Published by T. Tegg (321). From fickle Fortune's gamesome lap What various titles flow! The Emperor of Conj'rors, Nap, The King of Beggars, Joe! General Prince Blucher is leading off the two convicts; a halter is round 'Boney's' neck; he has donkey's ears, and is made to wear a fool's cap, inscribed, 'Transported for life;' his face bears a look of terror and degradation as he is dragged forward by his merciless conductor, handcuffed to his brother Joe, 'ex-King of the Beggars,' who is branded 'Coward and Thief.' A scorpion, 'Execration,' is fastening on to 'Boney's' person; and another reptile, 'Detestation,' is spitting venom at his less conspicuous relative. The exiled convicts are being conducted past a file of Prussian Guards, and the drums are beating the 'Rogue's March.' Their leader, Blucher, bears a long quarter-master's staff, with a proclamation setting forth: 'Napoleon, late Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine; Grand Arbiter of the Fate of Nations, &c., &c., &c., but now, by the permission of the Allied Sovereigns, exile in the Isle of Elba, an outcast from society, a fugitive, a vagabond. Yet this is the conceited mortal who said, "I have never been seduced by prosperity; adversity will not be able to overcome me!"' A contrast to the crestfallen Bonapartes is offered in the restored Bourbons. A flagpole is set up, and the old royal standards are unfurled: 'Rejoice, O ye Kings! _Vive le Roi!_' The sovereigns of Europe once more enjoy the opportunity of wearing their crowns in peace; and the allied monarchs are shown, in their royal robes, with all their splendours restored, dancing hand-in-hand in a ring round their combined escutcheons: 'Now we are met, a jolly set, in spite of wind or weather!' _April 17, 1814._ _The Affectionate Farewell, or Kick for Kick._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Buonaparte is being driven from France; it is clear that his presence there, after the settlement of his abdication, was a source of embarrassment while waiting for an opportunity to sail for his new island kingdom. The late Imperial Chancellor is the most eager to be rid of his disgraced master; the 'minister of expediency' is menacing the flying enemy; in one hand he holds the deed of expatriation, 'Abdication, or the last dying speech of a murderer--who is to be delivered into the hands of the Devil the first fair wind.' 'Tally' is attacking his ancient confederate 'Boney' with his club-foot and his crutch simultaneously: '_Va t'en coquin._ I'll crack your crown, you pitiful vagabond;' to which the flying exile, with his hat held in hand as a mark of respect to his new master, is responding with humility: '_Votre très humble serviteur, Monsieur Tally_.' A gibbet, with its noose ready, is pointing to the 'Isle of Elba.' Seen in the distance is the 'Boney' family, there receiving the elevation which they have merited, all the members being collectively exalted on a gallows. The victims of 'Boney's' successive campaigns and actions without cessation, invalids whose limbs have been lost in his wars, are rushing up as fast as their maimed condition will permit, flourishing their crutches and unstrapping their wooden legs, as offensive weapons wherewith to avenge their injuries, crying: 'Bone him, my tight little Tally;' while an invalid with one arm is waiting for the flying general at the place of embarkation: 'What! let him sneak off without a mark or a scratch? No, no, I'll darken his daylights for him!' _April 20, 1814._ _A Delicate Finish to a French Usurper._ Published by J. Asperne, 60 Cornhill. Boney, canker of our joys, now thy tyrant reign is o'er. Fill the merry bowl, my boys, join in bacchanalian roar. Seize the villain, plunge him in--see, the hated miscreant dies. Mirth, and all thy train, come in; banish sorrow, tears, and sighs! The events which followed Leipzig are bearing their fruit; the heads of the Coalition have been called in, and 'Boney' is being subjected to rigorous treatment; he is seated on a throne constructed of skeletons and skulls, wrapped round with the Imperial purple, powdered with his emblems; but the bees are taking flight and forsaking their _protégé_; Field Marshal Prince Blucher is offering the sufferer, who is sick in extremity, a huge goblet to be quaffed to the dregs--'Blucher's black draught.' The crown and sceptre of tyranny and all the 'Corsican's' conquests, Portugal, Vienna, Poland, Milan, Spain, Rome, Moscow, Holland, Switzerland, Vienna, Saxony, Florence, Dantzig, &c., have been disgorged. The figure of Father Time has winged his way to reckon with the usurper; his hourglass is held aloft, and with a golden extinguisher Time is about to snuff Boney out. Wellington, the Emperor Alexander of Russia, the Emperor of Austria, and the Crown Prince are in attendance to see the last of their troublesome enemy. France is once more freed, joyful and smiling; the labours of agriculture are resumed, and three symbolical nymphs are executing a joyful dance appropriate for the occasion, and supporting the arms of the restored Bourbons. _April 25, 1814._ _Nap Dreading his doleful Doom, or his grand entry into the Isle of Elba._ Published by T. Tegg (328).--The general has arrived in his island kingdom, according to the satirist; the ship which conveyed the abdicated monarch is riding in the bay; Boney's luggage has just been set on the shore by a smaller craft; a single guard, one of the Mamelukes, is sitting disconsolately by the diminished effects of his master. The somewhat squalid inhabitants, Nap's future subjects, are crowding down the rocks with vulgar curiosity, pressing onwards through a narrow pass leading to the shore; they seem inclined to ridicule the deserted state of their distinguished guest, who is plunged into dejection at his prospects. Woe is me, seeing what I have seen, And seeing what I see! A coarse stout female is patting the exile familiarly on the back and offering him her pipe by way of hospitality: 'Come, cheer up, my little Nicky; I'll be your Empress!' _May 1, 1814._ _The Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen; Europe is Free; England Rejoices._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The 'Corsican' is exposed to a worse fate than fell to Belshazzar; his conquests are taken from him, the throne of state is overset, the Imperial purple is stripped from his shoulders, the diadem and sceptre have fallen; the sovereignties, crowns, and dignities which were his playthings are swept away; the once almost master of the world is now in a desperate strait; his person is seized by the Father of Evil, who is claiming his due; the presence of the Foul Fiend has disturbed Napoleon less than the hand of Fate: 'Empire and victory be all forsaken to plagues, poverty, disgrace, and shame. Strip me of all my dignities and crowns. Take oh take your sceptres back. Spare me but life!' An arm of vengeance, appearing from the clouds, has effectually paralysed the faculties of the conscience-smitten conqueror; a flaming sword is hanging over his devoted head, and a voice of terror is proclaiming retribution:-- Thou'rt doom'd to pains at which the damn'd will tremble, And take their own for joys. _May 1, 1814._ _Boney turned Moralist._ Published by R. Ackermann.--1. _What I was--a cruel tyrant._ The Emperor is shown in all his glory of empire and conquest, his back to the Palace of the Tuileries, and dressed in the robes of state, the purple mantle on his shoulders, the diadem on his head, the orb and sceptre in his hands; his feet raised on crowns of vanquished kings, and potentates enslaved to prop his state. 2. _What I am--a snivelling wretch._--The general is seen in solitary abandonment on the island rock which constituted his miniature kingdom of Elba, shedding tears over 'the brief history of my life, which I intend to publish.' This view is, like most of the deductions of satirists, rather beyond the strict veracity of the case. Bonaparte showed himself during his stay in Elba, as it will be remembered, both active and cheerful-minded; and it is recorded that he would discuss with the visitors--who flocked to his miniature kingdom from motives of curiosity--his present condition and his past state with pleasant humour and even jocularity. 3. _What I ought to be--hung for a fool._--The figure of Napoleon, with an ass's ears added, is suspended on a gallows. _May 1, 1814._ _Irish Jaunting Car._--Hull, Esq., del. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. _May 8, 1814._ _Peace and Plenty._ Published by T. Tegg (324).--The artist's view of the situation, with the smiling prospect of peace as set forth in 1814, was somewhat premature, as the more desperate events of the year following amply confirmed; but, with a general concord prevailing amongst the Allies, with the restless 'disturber of the peace of Europe' safely dismissed to the Island of Elba, there to amuse his giant ambition by administering affairs in his miniature kingdom, the old monarchy being comfortably restored to France for an interval, it was generally concluded that the world would once more be suffered to move along pacifically, and that a new era of plenty and commercial prosperity was reopening. [Illustration: PEACE AND PLENTY.] _Peace and Plenty_ are represented much as such things look on the eve of a congress of military powers, _Peace_ meaning the forces held in readiness, and _Plenty_, in this case, referring principally to the war-chest, a plentiful supply of artillery, powder, shell and shot, and other offensive materials. The scene is fixed on one of the fortifications which had been set up to protect the security of our coasts; the cliffs of 'old England' bristle with Martello towers and island defences. A drummer is sleeping tranquilly, with his arm and head resting on his instrument, and a pile of cannon balls by his side; there are great guns of brass and iron, with a mortar and shells, ready for use, while sentries are on the look-out, and the soldiers are fully equipped. The British standard is flying, and an air of gallantry is introduced by the presence of certain buxom females, who are exciting the admiration of the soldiers of the garrison gathered around the Dulcineas and ogling and flirting with the skittish fair, whose ample proportions are such as to win the hearts and turn the heads of these 'sons of Mars,' released for a while from 'war's alarms,' of which the warriors were becoming reasonably tired after so many years of hard and comparatively profitless campaigning. _May 15, 1814._ _Macassar Oil: an oily puff for soft heads._--It is rather a question whether subjects similar to the present, in which some popular nostrum was held up to ridicule, were wholly playful or in part executed to order--a skilful method of indirect puffing much and ingeniously practised in the magazines and other channels of the day. The wondrous fluid Macassar is seen in application. A stout old party has laid off his fool's cap and is seated in an armchair, undergoing a trial of the efficacy of the oil: the perfectly bald head of the subject is a good field for its employment, and the operator--who, by some inconsistency characteristic of vendors of hair restoratives, is quite bereft of hair himself--is sleepily pouring oil from a flask over the broad surface beneath him. A lady has apparently been making a trial of the process, and on consulting the looking-glass she seems amazed to find a bushy head of hair pushing itself straight upwards with amazing vigour. Round the apartment are files of bottles, 'wig oil, one guinea per bottle,' and notices, 'Wonderful discovery: carroty or grey whiskers changed to black, brown, or blue, &c.' _June 14, 1814._ _Miseries of London, or a Surly Hackney Coachman._ _June 20, 1814._ _Rural Sports, or a Pleasant Way of Making Hay._ Published by T. Tegg (16).--In the rear are lasses raking the hay together, and lads are tossing the loads on to the well-filled wains. In the front of the picture is a group of boisterous haymakers of both sexes, who, throwing aside their rakes and forks, are tumbling the hay about by armfuls, rolling one over another in the grass, and sprawling about in picturesque confusion. _July 14, 1814._ _The Rivals._ Published by T. Rowlandson, James Street. (See 1812.) [Illustration: PORTSMOUTH POINT.] 1814. _Portsmouth Point._ Published by T. Tegg (255).--The varied humours of Portsmouth are displayed with the caricaturist's native vigour. Nothing could be more animated than the picture, which has an air of truth, nor could the scene be represented with fuller character, all its grotesque features being brought forward with ready fun. The landing-place is bustling with business; small craft of all sorts are pulling off to the ships; luggage, spirit-casks, and packages are being wheeled or shouldered off for debarkation. A couple of sailors, with hands across to form a sedan, are carrying a stout lady of fashion down to a lighter. Jack on shore and Jack taking his chest seawards are elbowing busy stevadores. A commander, his lady, and a porter bearing his sea-trunk, are in the centre of the crowd; a wooden-legged fiddler is tipping a stave for 'Poll and her partner Joe,' and a frolicsome tar is giving a parting salute with more ardour than propriety. On one side is the respectable element--the admirals, captains, and other naval officers, and their families, who are parting from wife and children with a tender embrace at the door of the Ship Tavern; and many a gallant naval hero is draining his last bowl of punch on shore. On the opposite side such rougher contrasts are exhibited as common sailors, lodging houses, outfitting emporiums, cast clothes marts, and ship-store shops, _Moses Levy--Money Lent_, and similar tempting emporiums, where customers are inspecting second-hand apparel. Such a spectacle would not be complete, according to the taste of the times or the actualities of the case, without some sort of uproariousness, and so we are treated to the sight of a young lady carted off helplessly inebriated, a friendly companion supporting her shoulders, and an honest blue-jacket bearing her legs unceremoniously slung over his back. Another bacchanalian incident is rendered on the left, where a grinning sailor, half-seas over, who is at least better-tempered in his cups than George Cruikshank would have condescended to draw him in his teetotal days, is sprawling on the road by his broken pipe and overbalancing a florid and equally tipsy Venus, his lady-love, who is in some degree the reason of the Jack Tar's degradation. _September 15, 1814._ _The Three Principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion: Dress like a coachman; study boxing and bull-baiting; speak the slang language fluently._ _September 15, 1814._ _The Four Seasons of Love._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg. _Spring._--A suitor, _Jerry Thimble, Tailor_, is kneeling at the feet of a blooming fair one; both of the turtle-doves are in the prime of life. 'Oh, you bewitching angel,' sues the tailor, 'behold at your feet a swain as tender as a veal cutlet. You are the very broadcloth of perfection; have pity on me, adorable Mrs. Griskin!' To which appeal the melting and buxom widow responds: 'You enchanting devil, I do not know what to say to you; however, Mr. Thimble, that mole between your eyebrows puts me so much in mind of my poor dear departed husband that I think I can't refuse you.' _Summer._--The wedded pair are enjoying a suburban excursion. The smartened tailor is smiling on his wife and declaring: 'O thou wert born to please me, my life, my only dear!' The lady, who is advancing in life, replies: 'Ay, now you look a little stylish; you are a charming man. Who would not be married!' _Autumn_ sets in more stormily; the lady, developing into a virago, is accusing her husband of receiving letters of a tender nature; the tailor, in reply, is making a counter-charge, relative to 'Mr. Dip, the dyer, and gallivanting to White Conduit House.' _Winter_ sees the late couple seated at either side of a lawyer's table; the man of law is reading the articles of separation, to the delight of the Thimbles. Mrs. Tabitha declares she never felt so comfortable in all her life; and Jerry Thimble is exclaiming: 'O blessed day! I hope to pass the next year in peace and quietness!' _September 20, 1814._ _Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Excommunicating the Bishops. 'Know I told thee I should begin at the Sanctuary. I will cut them all off,' having already cut off four Bishops for refusing to hear of my Visitation._ Published by T. Tegg (341).--Rowlandson availed himself of the novel religious fever which had its rise in the fictitious revelations of the so-called Prophetess, Joanna Southcott, to ridicule both the believers in latter day miracles and the members of the Establishment conjointly. One specimen of the caricatures produced on this occasion will suffice. Joanna Southcott and one of her champions are making a terrific charge on the flying pillars of the Episcopacy. The Bishops are endeavouring to kick against the onslaught, and, with mitre, wig, and crozier, are defying their chastisers; but their courage is feeble, their ranks are breaking, and they are running off discomfited to save themselves from the coming wrath, without taking any heed of the overthrown. The Prophetess, wearing her famous seal round her neck, and clad in _Elijah's mantle_, is lustily wielding a birch rod; she has caught a fugitive Archbishop by the foot, and he is vainly struggling to escape corporal correction. The 'Third Book of Wonders' is open at her feet. Her exertions are supported by a certain Rev. Roger Towzer, who is chastising the disorganised heads of the Established Church with his _Flail_; certain supernatural creatures, with flaming torches and stings and claws, are harassing the runaways. The Prophetess is very earnest in the work: 'Lay it on, hip and thigh, brave Towzer; smite the unbelievers. I put no more trust in Bishops as men than I do in their chariots and horses, but my trust is in the Lord of Hosts.' Her reverend follower is bruising away vigorously: 'I'll well dust their woolsacks and make them drunk in my fury. I will bring down their strength to the earth!' A strong-chest, in the rear, is labelled _Contents of the Sealing; the Sealed, the Elect, to inherit the Tree of Life_, &c. 1814 (?). _Rural Sports. Buck Hunting._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg.--Buck-hunting, as a figurative sport, seems, if we may believe the print, to be attended with certain difficulties. An antiquated gentleman, who in the present case seems to be the hunter, is brought up abruptly, in full view of the quarry, by a river, which he has no apparent means of crossing. The game in view, a military buck, is 'run to ground' in a summer-house, on the opposite side of the water, where, in spite of a warning-board about _Man-traps_, he is visibly poaching on the hunter's preserves. 1815. _January 1, 1815._ _Female Politicians._ Published by T. Tegg. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.--The fair members of a well-to-do family are seated at table. The elder is reading the news of the Corsican's last outrages: 'They write from Hanover that when Boneyparte took possession of that country he ravished all the women.' 'Oh, the wretch!' cries an old maid. A less antiquated lady is giving her fair neighbour the comforting assurance, 'It's very true, ma'am: it's only a word and a blow with him; your honour or your property.' 'Well, ma'am,' declares a buxom creature, 'if he should come here, at all events I'll take care of my property.' To which a budding maiden is adding, 'So will I, mamma.' _March 1, 1815._ _Breaking up of the Blue Stocking Club._ Published by T. Tegg (343).--The dissolution of this assembly is marked by a certain amount of animosity and fury. The learned ladies are engaging in pairs, and the subject under discussion is handled with more zeal than discretion, the arguments employed being chiefly forcible. The _Blue Stockings_ are sadly mauled; garments and hair are alike torn and dishevelled. The table, the tea equipage, and the president's armchair have all come to grief; one fair and fierce debater is trying to impress her opponent with the kettle-stand, another has floored her adversary, and is pouring forth the boiling contents of the urn over a prostrate foe. Nails, fists, and feet are alike set to work; but the favourite method of attack seems to be a firm purchase of the enemy's tresses. Cats are leaping about in dismay, and the whole tableau is one of unrestrained ferocity and recklessness. _March 1, 1815._ _Defrauding the Customs, or Shipping Goods not Fairly Entered._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (344).--A scene of violence, since a pair of strapping damsels, the pride of their friends, are being carried off bodily, whether they will or no, by two naval officers, whose sailors are waiting by the shore, with a boat put to sea in readiness to bear them, and their abducted charges, off to a ship which is seen at a distance. These unprincipled marauders have made an attack, in broad daylight, on the two biggest and most handsome scholars of _Mrs. Crostich's boarding-school for young ladies_, while the remainder of the tender flock are taking their walks abroad, with the dame at their head. But neither the vigorous efforts of the schoolmistress, nor the exertions of an old gentleman, who has been knocked over in the escape, and is sprawling powerless like a turtle, nor the efforts of a dog which is worrying the retreat of the fugitives, seem likely to hinder the accomplishment of their flight or to prevent the successful completion of their lawless designs. _March 1, 1815._ _Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates._ Published by T. Tegg (347).--Hodge, 'a poor honest country lout, not overstocked with learning,' has been brought before the bench on some charge or another. The smock-frocked rustic, cap in hand, is scratching his tow-like locks and questioning the fairness of the tribunal. 'How,' cries the chairman, energetically thumping away at the table in his indignation, 'how dare you, fellow, say it is unfair to bring you before one hundred magistrates, when you see there are but three of us?' In reply to which Hodge is posing his interrogator: 'Why, please your worship, you mun know when I went to school they taught I that a one and two noughts stood for a hundred; so, do you see, your worship be one, and the other two be cyphers!' _March 1, 1815._ _Sailors Drinking the Tunbridge Waters._ Published by T. Tegg (242).--The artist has sketched the old drinking-well at Tunbridge; a body of sailors, true British tars, find themselves, by some queer chance, which is totally unexplained, at the well-known watering-place, and, what is more mysterious, these sons of Neptune are in close proximity to the Springs. A comely, well-favoured, and smartly attired young damsel, the ministering nymph of the fountain--which, in this instance, it must be confessed, closely resembles a pump--is presenting a tumbler of the fluid, drawn by her own fair hands, to a sturdy ancient coxswain, impressing on the weather-beaten salt, 'Be assured it is an excellent beverage for gentlemen who have been a long time at sea.' The ancient mariner, in recalling the effects which the waters had on 'our Poll,' and remembering his own personal interior sufferings in the Mediterranean, is reluctant to rush into unknown dangers: 'Why, lookee, ma'am, I don't wish to be unpolite, but, if your ladyship's honour pleases, I'd rather hang fire a bit.' Another hardy tar is grappling with the distasteful difficulty and making frightful attempts to swallow the contents of his tumbler; but a good proportion of the water is spilt on the ground, while he is pronouncing the stuff 'Dashed queer tipple, to be sure!' Another smart sailor has his tumbler all safe in his keeping; but he is bribing a diminutive native, who is complacently staring at the prospective drinker, to run and fetch something to qualify the cup. 'Hark'ee, young two-shoes, go and get me a pint of half-and-half and a squeeze of lemon, for darn me if I could drink it neat if I was never to weigh anchor again.' _March 13, 1815._ _A Lamentable Case of a Juryman._ Published by T. Tegg (Nos. 220 and 347). _April 7, 1815._ _The Flight of Buonaparte from Hell-Bay._ Published by R. Ackermann.--We find the anticipations offered in the caricatures of the previous year completely upset by Napoleon's unexpected return. The method of the Corsican's evasion is treated figuratively; in place of the Isle of Elba he is supposed to have escaped from the clutches of the evil one and out of the depths of the infernal regions. The foul fiend, _Old Scratch_, is represented in person, amusing himself by letting his captive loose to work fresh mischief in the world above. A diabolic armchair of serpents is planted beside the fiery lake, and for pastime Satan is toying with a pipe and blowing air-bubbles, while an attendant imp is holding a saucer of suds. The Corsican has been mounted on a bubble blown by the tempter, and then sent careering back to earth; hissing dragons, and serpents of supernatural species, are hissing forth flames and blasts of fury, which are serving as winds to waft the bubble upwards, while the sulphurous fumes are inspiring the rider with a frantic thirst for vengeance. _April 8, 1815._ _Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The enthusiasm with which the return of 'Boney' was hailed, from his landing in France till his arrival in the capital, and the devoted reception he encountered from his old followers, are made the subjects of more than one travesty. In the present case the head and bust of the Emperor, on a colossal scale--his throat encircled by a hangman's noose--is elevated on an immense pyramid of human heads, his decapitated victims; a brace of demons are flying through the air to encircle the brow of this apostle of freedom with a crown of blazing pitch. A ring of excited demons, with horns, claws, hoofs, and tails, but bearing the heads and faces of Napoleon's supporters, are dancing in triumph round the idol they have replaced. From labels attached to the ropes which surround the throttles of these enthusiastic Bonapartists we discover the so-called 'Hell Hounds' to be Marshals Ney, Lefebre, Davoust, Vandamme, Savery, Caulincourt, with Fouché, and others. The old slaughters have recommenced; towns are committed to the flames, English goods are once more destroyed, and heaped around are soldiers, some dead and others wounded, to serve the cause of a rapacious ambition which had drained the blood of France for years. 1815. _Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur! Vive le Diable! French Constancy and French Integrity._--As might have been foreseen, Napoleon's old ascendency over the French army asserted itself more strongly than ever; the intermediate state of things and the humiliations to which the country was unavoidably forced to submit during the process of restoring the stolen property and possessions to the rightful owners had increased the national animosity with which the troops and the people continued to regard the foreign invaders, friends, allies, and upholders of _Louis le Desiré_. The more martial spirits, wearied of a restoration with which France felt no sympathy, began to languish for the presence of their great captain, under whose military empire their laurels had been won. The fickleness and instability of the Gallic race are set forth in the present caricature. A trooper has abjured his allegiance to the Bourbons, and is hailing his Corporal with a pinch from his snuffbox; his hat is still garnished with the white cockade, _Vive le Roi!_ above it is a red one, _Vive le Diable!_ and, on the other side, the famous tricolor, and _Vive l'Empereur!_ _French Constancy_ is illustrated in these interchanged emblems. _French Stability_ appears figuratively likened to the sails of a windmill; as to _French Integrity_, the emblems of a monkey and cat, kissing and fondling, pictorially sets forth the 'union between the National Guard and the troops of the line.' _April 12, 1815._ _Scene in a New Pantomime, to be performed at the Theatre Royal, Paris. With entire new music, dances, dresses, scenery, machinery, &c., &c. The principal characters to be supported by most of the great potentates in Europe. Harlequin by Monsieur Napoleon; Clown by King of Wirtemberg; Pantaloon, Emperor of Austria. To conclude with a comic song, to be sung by the Pope, and a grand chorus by the Crowned Heads. Vivant Rex et Regina._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The wonderful exhibition is taking place in the state rooms of the Tuileries. The great throne is empty, and the sceptre and crown are temporarily laid on the steps waiting for their owner. _Presto!_ and in flies Harlequin Bonaparte, pursued at once by all the Powers of Europe, tumbling over one another in confusion, but all armed and aiming at the nimble sprite, who had given them so much trouble to capture and secure, and who is once more to be chased, caught, and bound down again. Clown Wirtemberg is letting off a brace of pistols; Dutch Mynheer and a Prussian grenadier are discharging their blunderbusses; Austria, as Pantaloon, is too startled to be effective; the Cossack is giving the fugitive a prod with his long lance; the King of Spain has drawn the sword and aimed such a blow that it has capsized the swordsman and shaken off his crown; the Pope is armed with an axe; and all the other potentates are crowding in, an irregular mob. The portrait of the Empress, as Columbine, is being taken off the walls. As to the Harlequin, his eye looks dangerous; a dagger is held in either hand-he evidently means mischief; one tiger-like spring, and he has eluded all his pursuers, and the blows they are intending for him recoil on themselves. The portrait of Louis the Eighteenth is in the pathway for which he is making, and the nimble Corsican, in his character of Harlequin, is jumping clean through the huge paunch of the tranquil Bourbon and regaining the security of his old strongholds. _April 16, 1815._ _The Corsican and his Blood Hounds at the Window of the Tuileries, looking over Paris._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Boney, on his arrival in Paris, proceeded to his old quarters in the Tuileries, whence Louis the Eighteenth had but just departed. Napoleon, in spite of his fatigue--for he had barely rested since his landing--sat up all night, concerting fresh measures with his supporters; and in the morning he held a grand review in the Champ de Mars, where his presence excited the most frantic demonstrations of fidelity. France showed herself intoxicated with joy at the chance of receiving back a leader with whom she had, inconsistently enough, parted without expressing much emotion or regret, except so far as the Emperor's more immediate personal adherents were concerned. In the picture we have the streets of Paris represented as being filled with a surging multitude of enthusiasts, while standards, eagles, and heads of enemies are held up on pikes, by the wilder fanatics, as signs of encouragement. _Death_ and the _Devil_ are tempting the Corsican from the balcony of the Tuileries; in 'return for more horrors,' and in exchange for 'death and destruction,' all that he sees is offered the conqueror. The bony skeleton is pointing out the bargain with his dart; but Time's hourglass is standing unperceived at Napoleon's side and the sand is running forth. The figure of the Devil is resting his arms fraternally on the shoulders of Boney and Marshal Ney and drawing them into an ill-starred embrace. The other marshals and adherents are in the rear; but a marked expression of apprehension is shown on the faces of the entire party, with the exception of the two supernatural visitors, who are grinning at the anticipation of fresh iniquities and increasing deadly horrors, with which they entertain the certain prospect of being gratified by their pet _protégé_. _May 10, 1815._ _The Carter and the Gipsies._ Published by T. Tegg. 1815. _R. Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo._--The loyal supporters of the Government and that indomitable British nation which had declared '_no surrender_ to the Corsican,' and, either in victory or defeat, had persevered, while their allies were conquered and their subsidies wasted, were rewarded for the 'outpouring of blood and treasure abroad' and the hard times and anxieties at home by finding that at last, after Waterloo, their enemy was at their mercy. Rejoicings, fireworks, and illuminations became the order of the day; and our artist, who had traced the varying career of the dreaded bugbear Boney, now lent his assistance to commemorate his downfall. In Rowlandson's simple allegory Buonaparte, on his white Arab charger, is riding his hardest away from the British pursuit; he has lost his sword, and his crown is shaken off. Wellington, with his sword ready to smite, is rapidly coming up with the fugitive, whose flight, however, is unexpectedly brought to an end by finding old Blucher, on his sturdy charger, drawn up across the very path he is taking. The redoubtable veteran is discharging a huge blunderbuss full in the face of the common enemy. Incidents in the pursuit of the routed French legions are slightly indicated in the background, and a flight of certain gilded birds are scurrying out of the dangerous vicinity. _July 28, 1815._ _Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying Speech, or Europe's Injuries Revenged._--Napoleon is arraigned, as a criminal at the bar, before the Court of Europe and a crowded tribunal; the seat of chief judge is occupied by Prince Blucher, and the assembled potentates are seated on the bench, wearing their recovered crowns, which the prisoner, in his various triumphs, had so often caused to tremble and, in some cases, had carried off completely. The kings, it is true, do not make an imposing spectacle; with the exception of the Emperor Alexander, who is seated beside the Prince Regent, they still seem to look upon the lately dreaded foe with trepidation. The occupants of the court and the lawyers are regarding the criminal under sentence with abhorrence; a _posse_ of tipstaves are drawn up below the prisoner's bar; and Napoleon, who is trying to move the compassion of his hearers by hypocritical humility, has a friend at his back, who is ready to seize his bond--the Black Fiend is his unseen attendant prompter in person. Old Blucher, clad in his field-marshal's uniform, with the addition of a judge's wig, is standing up, and, with emphatic gestures, is pointing to the act of accusation set forth at length on a screen in the court: 'Napoleon Bonaparte, the first and last by the wrath of Heaven, ex-Emperor of the Jacobins, and Head-Runner of Runaways, stands indicted: 1. For the murder of Captain Wright in the Temple, at Paris. 2. For the murder of the Duke D'Enghien, Pichegru, and Georges. 3. For the murder of Palm, Hofer, &c., &c. 4. For the murder of the twelve inhabitants of Moscow. 5. For innumerable robberies committed on all nations in Christendom and elsewhere. 6. For bigamy; and lastly for returning from transportation and setting the world in an uproar.' The inflexible judge is hurling forth his condemnation: 'You, Nap Bonaparte, being found guilty of all these crimes, it is fallen to my lot to pronounce sentence of death on you. You are to be hung by the neck for one hour till you are _dead, dead, dead_, and your body to be chained to a millstone and sunk in the sea at Torbay.' The fallen Emperor is naturally much moved at this final judgment, and he is interceding for a respite: 'Oh, cruel Blucher! oh, cruel Wellington! it is you that have brought me to this end. Oh, magnanimous Emperors, Kings, and Princes, intercede for me and spare my life, and give me time to atone for all my sins. My son, Napoleon the Second, will reward you for mercy shown me!' _November, 1815._ _Transparency Exhibited at R. Ackermann's, in the Strand, on November 27, 1815, the day on which the General Peace was celebrated in London._--As all England was exerting itself to display its loyalty and the universal delight occasioned by the conclusion of the Continental wars, Rowlandson contributed a characteristic cartoon, which appeared, like its predecessors, outside the Repository of Arts, allegorically commemorating the downfall of 'Boney' and the second restoration of the legitimate reigning house. The design of this transparency was arranged in the form of a monument, capped by a throne; at the base is a trophy; the Prince of Wales's plume is waving above two gilt tablets, inscribed with the names of the two victorious generals, Wellington and Blucher, and surrounded by pieces of dismounted artillery and groups of standards, with the Union Jack and the Russian and Prussian flags in front. Above this group is a base, inscribed, 'Peace throughout Europe,' with a tablet, '_Charlemagne, Nassau, Capet, Bourbon_,' and two wreaths, dedicated to '_Humanity_' and '_Justice_.' Upon this platform a canopy is raised aloft, festooned above the throne of St. Louis, with the restored crown; a serpent, emblematic of eternity, and the three doves; the front of the seat is supported by bundles of fasces, with double axes, and classic wreaths and lyres. A flight of steps mounts up to the throne on either side. On the right is Wellington, supporting Louis XVIII., restored to his rights; his train are following the ascent of their sovereign, and the figure of _Justice_ is floating on the clouds above the monarch's head. _Fame_ is blowing her trumpet on the other side; while Bonaparte and his baffled supporters are effecting a rapid descent by the left-hand staircase; Blucher, standing on the top step, is making their defeat secure by a discharge from his huge blunderbuss. Bodies of the Allied troops are drawn up at the base; on the right a group of Cossacks, with Prussian and English cavalry; on the left is a gathering of the various foot-soldiers. A sturdy Highlander is putting the finishing stroke to a discomfited plotting Bonapartist with his bayonet, and summarily stamping out Imperialist intriguers. _July 14, 1815._ _Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt._--Designed, etched, and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. In clearing a gate, after the hounds, a little antiquated sportsman has missed his seat and is going over his horse's ears; behind him is a dashing Diana, who is spurring her horse over the palings of a park in gallant style. _November 16, 1815._ _My Ass._ Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson. Written by Mr. J. Tedir. Published by I. Sidebotham, 96 Strand.--The adventures of a hawker of vegetables and her faithful donkey, depicted in a series of six cuts, illustrating the invaluable qualities of the quadruped. The composition commences thus:-- Who followed me through street and lane, In spite of hurricane and rain; While I my daily bread did gain? My Ass. The other verses being in the same strain. 1815. _Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve._--In 1815, owing to the French wars, soldiers were necessarily at a premium; and, from an advertisement in the justices' room, where the substitutes are being measured, we learn that the bounty was fixed at 30_l._ per man. Those great functionaries, a country justice and his clerk, appear seated in state, to warrant the proceedings. A commanding officer and his sergeant are labouring prodigiously, for the needs of the service, to force certain stunted and misshapen rustics, who have been enlisted to serve their country, up to the military standard. Further relays of ungainly 'chawbacons' are waiting their turn without. 1815. _A Journeyman Tailor._--A half-clad slave of the thimble is shown squatting on his board in a squalid hovel; his half-starved 'helper' is seated by his side; both are pressing garments with hot irons, and a rough and ragged urchin is heating a further supply of the article known as 'a tailor's goose' at the grate; while a street hawker, a blowsy Hibernian, is screaming her wares (cucumbers and cabbages) in at the doorway. This picture bears some resemblance to a caricature published by Rowlandson in 1823, under the title _Hot Goose, Cabbage, and Cucumbers_. 1815. _Neighbours._ Published by T. Tegg (235).--The wooden casements of two windows, which turn on one post connecting the houses, are thrown back, and simultaneously a neat-looking young farmer and a well-favoured young damsel are stooping forward and their lips meeting in a cheerful salute, to the horror and scandal of two elderly witnesses, who are expressing their reprobation at the openness of the proceeding. The young swain at the same moment is trying to hang up a cage, which appropriately contains a pair of cooing doves. [Illustration: AN EATING-HOUSE.] 1815 (?). _An Eating-house._ 1815 (_about_). _Banditti._--The occupants of the house attacked, confined to the female members, are sleeping, without suspicion of the danger which is to surprise them. A band of ill-favoured and repulsive-featured freebooters, provided with a miscellaneous armoury of slaughterous-looking weapons, are stealing in on deadly mischief bent. The scene is dramatic. 1815. _Virtue in Danger._ Careful observers, studious of the town, Shun the misfortunes that disgrace the clown.--GAY'S _Trivia_. An old boy who has ventured unprotected--beyond the guardianship of an umbrella which bears a family resemblance to the holder--amidst the dangers of the wicked town, is forcibly taken possession of by two shameless nymphs; one is stealing his money, while the other is helping herself to his watch. The elderly and corpulent stranger is too astonished at this barefaced iniquity to offer the feeblest resistance. The night watchman is going his rounds, and enjoying a laugh at the expense of the victim; this trustworthy guardian of the streets is too evidently a confederate of the predative fair, and is personally interested in the plunder. 1815 (?). _An Unexpected Return, or a Snip in Danger._ 1815 (?). _A Musical Doctor and his Scholars._ 1815 (?). _Slap-bang Shop._--The interior of an eating-house in the city. A tall, well-formed, and comely waitress is bringing in the dinner of a wicked old reprobate, who is leering his admiration of her personal attractions. All the venerable sinners, amateurs of female loveliness, shown taking their meals in the various boxes, are turning their heads to gloat over the charms of this favoured handmaiden, who is followed by a 'help' carrying pots of beer for the various customers. 1815. _Jack Tar admiring the Female Sex._ 1815. _Accidents will Happen._--This, and the following subjects, to the number of half-a-dozen, are selected from prints in some degree pirated from Rowlandson, and, although bearing his name in the corner, in many instances the incidents of well-known caricatures have been altered, and prints have been issued, engraved in an inferior style, as new caricatures. The principal of these adaptations, or poor renderings of drawings, were published by Marks. _Accidents will Happen_ introduces a cellar incident. A maid has begun to descend the stairs to draw some beer, and has come to grief, probably from fright, as files of scared rats are scampering away, and a cat is tearing up the wall, while a mischievous monkey has broken loose from his chain. The shock has caused the damsel to lose her balance, her pitcher is broken, and she is sprawling in an attitude which has astonished her master, who, candle in hand, is coming down the winding stairs of the cellar to survey the scene of the disaster. 1815. _Sympathy._--This emotion is rendered in the feelings of a stern functionary, evoked in favour of a lady in Bridewell, who is being led out of the cells by the warder to be flogged, a punishment which, it would seem, had not been abolished in Rowlandson's day. The eye of the coarse and elephantine jailer is gloating over the fair back of the unfortunate criminal, laid bare for the application of the cat. 1815. _Despatch, or Jack preparing for Sea._--Jack Tar is making the most of his opportunities on shore; he is surrounded by the delights which constitute the sailor's elysium; punch and grog galore, a brace of fiddlers, and a bevy of beauties, florid Pollies of Portsmouth, towards whom he is making tipsy demonstrations of affection. In those days, when prize-money fell in golden showers, the valiant sea-dogs who defended our shores, and made John Bull's name redoubtable on the ocean, were able to command, in their short intervals on shore, luxuries after their own hearts, for which, after the dangers and hardships of active service, they threw away their 'yellow boys' with the recklessness which characterised their habits, and proved a rich harvest to the plunderers who were on the watch for seamen just 'paid off.' 1815. _Deadly Lively._--The coarse humours of a spirit-cellar are served up with a tragic accompaniment. A young female is stretched incapable and asleep, sunk in all the degradation of dead drunkenness. A man who is no longer master of himself is raising his tumbler, with a tipsy desire to have it replenished. The apparition of King Death, bony, frightful, and sinister, is grinning over the back of the soddened tippler's chair, recruiting his legions from a fruitful source; he is supplying the rummer of the drunken wretch from his own vial, little more fatal than the fluid which is debasing and deadening its victims around. A stout woman, also sinking into tipsy apathy, is roused by the shock of finding the king of terrors added to the company; she is thrown off her balance with a start, and, falling backwards on the stone floor of the vault, she will probably break her neck--as the artist's intention seems to hint--and furnish Death with another customer. 1815. _The Fort._ 1815. (Officer.) _The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome, with an account of his Campaigns in the Peninsula, and in Pall Mall, with sketches by Rowlandson and notes by an Officer._ London: Printed for Patrick Martin, 198 Oxford Street. 8vo. He jests at scars who never felt a wound.--SHAKESPEARE. Frontispiece.--Johnny Newcome starting to join his Regiment. Johnny Newcome going to lay in stock. A Bad Billet. Taking his Breakfast. Introduced to his Colonel. Smells Powder for the first time. Johnny writes an Account of the action to his mother, which afterwards appears in the _Star_. Half Rations. Learning to Smoke and drink Grog. Poor Johnny on the sick list. Going sick to the rear. Johnny safe returned to his Mamma. Made an A.D.C. 'Dash'd with his suite for Santarem that night.' Johnny on duty with his chief. Presenting the Trophies (taken from Joseph Buonaparte) to the Prince Regent. 1815. _The Grand Master, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan. A Hudibrastic Poem in eight Cantos by Quiz. Illustrated with twenty-eight engravings by Rowlandson._ Plates dated October 1, 1815. (Quiz fecit, Rowlandson sc.) London: Printed by T. Tegg. The intention of this work seems an attempt to hold up the Governor-General (the Marquis of Hastings) to opprobrium, but whether deserved or not, Europeans have small chance of judging. Frontispiece.--A new Map of India from the latest authority. The Governor-General (Marquis of Hastings) and his Council (Imbecility) mounted on an Elephant. Tusks (marked Monopoly and Ambition) fettered by Restrictions (Board of Control and House of Commons) &c. Titlepage.--The End of the Pagoda Tree, and the ultimate fate of the Viceroy and his Council, &c. &c. A Scene in the Channel. The Modern Idol Juggernaut. Miseries of the First of the Month. The Burning System Illustrated. Missionary Influence, or how to make Converts. An Extraordinary Eclipse. Labour in vain, or his Reverence Confounded. Hindoo Prejudices. John Bull Converting the Indians. More Incantations, or a Journey to the Interior. (Nepaul War). Miseries in India. (Insects.) The Bear and Ragged Staff. (Viceroy and Council as Idols.) Hindoo Incantations. A View in Elephanta. [Illustration: HINDOO INCANTATIONS--A VIEW IN ELEPHANTA.] The Guide declar'd that often here, Things supernatural appear; To prove it he produc'd a book, From which Qui Hi a drawing took, Of which the modern true translation, Is simply 'Hindoo Incantation.' It states that _some one_, years ago, Had tried futurity to know, And he employed an old Hindoo, To get him but a single view Of future things--and lo! an hour Was fixed to show the Brahmin's pow'r, The place appointed was the spot Where Qui Hi and his friends had got, Under Great _Brahma's triple head_, That then struck unbelievers dead. The Brahmin, when the Ghurry's sound Told _one_, was with the idol found, Soliciting he would assert His power, and infidels convert. The stranger now approach'd the place, With terror pictur'd in his face. 'Infidel!' said the Brahmin, 'now I shall observe my sacred vow. Come hither, and you'll shortly see And tremble at _futurity_!' Seating the man, he now applies A magic glass before his eyes; When, lo! the Elephanta shook, And Brahma thus in thunder spoke-- 'Mark, reptile! the decrees of Fate, Which, _Brahma says_, he will complete: Till then your destiny await!' He said, and, with a stroke of thunder, The sacred temple bursts asunder; Seizes the caitiff by the hair, And hurls him headlong thro' the air. He tumbled down to whence he came, _Somewhere_ about the Hooghly stream. Phantasmagoria. A View in Elephanta. The Modern Phaeton, or the Hooghly in danger. Qui Hi arrives at the Bunder Head. Qui Hi in the Bombay Tavern. Pays a Nocturnal Visit to Dungaree. Attends General Koir Wig's Levee. Qui Hi's Introduction and cool Reception. Qui Hi shows off at the Bobbery Hunt. Qui Hi at Bobbery Hall. All alive in the Chokee. Last Visit from the Doctor's Assistant. Qui Hi's last March to Padree Burrows's Go Down. Strange Figures _near_ the Cave of Elephanta, 1814. _Auspicio Regis, et Senatus Angliæ._ _June 1, 1815._ _Naples and the Campagna Felice, in a series of letters (by Lewis Engelbach). With Illustrations by Rowlandson, &c._ 8vo. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. (Reprinted from Repository of Arts, 1810-13.) Frontispiece.--The Colonel (Don Luigi) awakened from a sleeping _tête-à-tête_ by a serenade from his fair, and lately unconscious, companion. Se tanto a me piace Si rara beltà; Io perdero la pace, Quando si sveglerà. If, while entranced in balmy rest, His charms can give such pain; When he awakes, my wounded breast Will ne'er know peace again. Don Luigi's baggage seized by four Lazzaroni. Ancient Greek Paintings from Herculaneum: Ariadne, Bacchante and Satyr, &c. Don Luigi meets Donna Anna in the Museum. Ancient Greek Paintings from Herculaneum: Centaurs, Chiron teaching Achilles to play the lyre, &c. Sleeping _tête-à-tête_ at a first visit of Don Luigi. Don Michele getting up the ship's side. Don Luigi's Ball. A Bacchanalian Scene at Don Luigi's Ball. Don Michele preparing for his Triumphal Expedition. The Letter Writer, Naples. _The Letter Writer._--'On our way to the mole we had some difficulty in passing through a crowd of people, who, with great eagerness, and with Neapolitan clamour, had assembled round a man, sitting with pen and ink before a frail table, busily employed in committing to paper the crude thoughts of a country clown in the attitude of dictating to him; for the noise was too loud to hear what was going forward. A board above the head of the engrosser proclaimed his calling: '_Qui si fanno memoriali, lettere, ed altre scritture, nel ottimo stilo moderno._' (Here are drawn up memorials, letters, and other writings, in the best modern style.) Ever eager to seize any opportunity of observing the manners and national character of a people whom I have every reason to think better of than some of our superficial magpie-tourists, I pressed forward to obtain a nearer view of the transactions of this universal secretary, when my companion, Don Michele, pulling me back by the skirt of my coat, begged I would not demean myself by thus mixing with the vulgar. * * * * * 'The composer of letters was just receiving from an elderly woman the sum of six _grani_ (about threepence) for an epistle he had indited to her son at _Bari_; after which a farmer, next in rotation, was admitted into presence. His business appeared to be on secret service, for the corresponding oracle politely requested some of the more curious auditors to step a little aside. At first, indeed, the farmer's instructions were conveyed in a whisper; but as a Neapolitan loves dearly to talk as loud as his lungs will let him, and to accompany his sermocinations with the most expressive gestures, it soon became less difficult to discover that the subject under present consideration was a horse which had been sold to a cavalry officer, and for which a balance was still owing; the prompt payment whereof was to be peremptorily insisted on by a respectful dun. As soon as a period was happily brought to paper, it was read over to the listening clodhopper, who, in a manner, beat time to the emphatic and rhythmical reading of the professor by periodical nods of the head, and at the end of the sentence expressed his astonishment at the sagacity with which his obscure ideas had been caught up and classified. This literary production, owing probably to the importance of the subject, was disposed of for the valuable consideration of eight _grani_ (fourpence), paper included; and its possessor, with inward satisfaction, left the oracular tripod, in order to make room for a Turkish captain of a _polacca_, whose literary necessities consisted in a memorial claiming the restitution of some goods illegally seized.... When the document was ready for signature, _Ibrahim Reis_, who could neither read nor write, was desired to make his _cross_ at foot, which he refused with religious abhorrence; but, dipping his little finger into the inkstand, imprinted on the paper a correct facsimile of the tortuous furrows of his cuticle by way of signet. To my great surprise, this state paper was valued at no more than one carlin (fivepence), although engrossed on a folio page and decorated with some fancifully flourished initials. [Illustration: THE LETTER-WRITER.] 'The Turk no sooner discharged his literary debt than a well-dressed young lass gained his place. (This interview is pictured forth in the artist's illustration.) The despatch, however, which was to be written for her, must have been on secret and confidential service, for the instructions she gave to the engrosser were communicated in so low a whisper that, from my observatory, the scene appeared one of purely pantomimical action. When I relate that the time employed by this universal author in the production of the farmer's dun and the Turk's memorial did not exceed half an hour, and that the contents, although somewhat fustian, were very much to the purpose, you will agree with me that Signor Bucatelli possessed talents far above his station. Indeed, Don Matteo assured me that he was as good a poet as an epistolary writer, and that his sonnets on any particular occasion, such as for a wedding, a birthday, &c., may be obtained on the shortest notice, and at equally reasonable rates; in short, that he could wield his pen on any subject whatsoever. 'To a publisher in England a man like Signor Bucatelli would be an invaluable treasure, a host within himself, by the versatility of his genius and the despatch of his literary labours: his charges of _authorship_, as you have seen, are consonant with the modesty of true genius. His elevated style of writing (truly _nel ottimo stilo moderno_) would soon render him a most popular author with us. I was just going to step down to give him the substance of a poetical epistle as a specimen of his abilities, when a little girl brought him a small dish of stewed Windsor beans, a large raw cucumber, and a crust of bread. This frugal fare, and a glass of iced water from the neighbouring stall, well calculated to preserve his intellectual powers unclogged, Don Matteo informed me, was the whole of his dinner; which, together with a cigar by way of dessert, interrupted his official duties for about half an hour, after which, if matters of pressing service remained to be despatched, he would resume his quill, and suspend his _siesta_, or afternoon nap, to a late hour of the day.' _Don Luigi's Ball._--Before leaving his apartments on the _Infrescata_ the writer was anxious, as a slight return for the kindness of his host and the hospitalities he had received in Naples, to give a dance to a few friends of his own and of his entertainer, his host and friend Don Michele undertaking the entire responsibilities of inviting the guests, ordering refreshments, decorating the chambers, and other preliminaries. '"First, as to the company," reports the Don, "there will be ten couples, besides our family and odd ones, if they all come, of which there is little doubt; and what is more, _gente di garbo_ (people of quality), such as you might suppose my friends to be. Three or four will come in their own carriages; and some of the lasses will show you what is called dancing at Naples. Care, too, has been taken that they should not want for good music; you will have, Signor Don Luigi, the first oboe of St. Carlo, two excellent violins, a flute, tenor, and violoncel; my son will play the tambarine." '"Six musicians, Don Michele, for this little dance! Why, that's out of all reason. Half the number----" '"Are _hired_; and the others, gentlemen high in the profession, who for _my_ sake have promised to assist as friends at your party. Money, of course, is out of the question. You see, good sir, Don Michele can command a thing or two. As many more would have come if I had asked them, but these will be sufficient to begin the evening with a little concert; my friend will give you a concerto on the oboe; one of the ladies will sing a _scena_ from an opera, to which we may add a duet or two; and at ten o'clock the dance shall begin. As to the refreshments, I have almost run my legs off to get you the rum (the ladies were to be treated with ice punch, as a rarity). Seventy ices are ordered, cakes and sweetmeats as you desired, and a friend of mine will lend us a dozen of wall chandeliers." These lights, connected with festoons of artificial flowers, and a number of pots of flowers exhaling their fragrance over the rooms, gave the place an elegant appearance. [Illustration: DON LUIGI'S BALL.] 'The musicians arrived in good time, and the company dropped in fast after eight o'clock. To receive such a number of strange faces appropriately was a most irksome task,' continues the writer; 'but it was alleviated by the sight of many a good-looking young lass, and two or three real beauties, and one especially, Donna Carlina. My English friends from the city, and the lieutenant and doctor from the frigate, likewise made their appearance in due time; and healthily as their countenances shone forth, and well-dressed as they were, they greatly eclipsed my Neapolitan bucks, and found much grace among the ladies. I could not help remarking the contrast of manners between two Christian countries. In a more northern latitude, persons coming to the party of a perfect stranger would have conducted themselves with that cautious, anti-social reserve which some people call good manners; some of the ladies would have sat down on their chairs as prim and as stiff as so many hop-poles, cast down their modest looks until spoken to by charity, and then rebuffed a second attempt by a monosyllabic reply, a "Yes, sir," an "Indeed, sir?" a "You are very good, sir," &c. Now I will just tell you how matters went on in the _Infrescata_. Monstrous bows and introductory compliments: this over, all these people seemed as though they had been twenty times in my company.' The Don describes the improvised introductory concert, at which nearly all the company assisted, the Neapolitans having a natural taste for melody, and most of them being fair musicians; the entertainer next gave orders to prepare for the dance, and to hand refreshments in the interval. 'My punch,' he continues, 'found much favour with all present, the ladies not excepted, who emptied their glasses as rapidly as if it had been lemonade. Although not dancing, I was fully employed in another way. With all our windows open, the strains of my numerous orchestra propagated their sound over the whole neighbourhood, some of whose inhabitants, impelled by the attraction of sweet sounds, could not resist favouring me with their company. The circumstance of their not being invited to the feast appeared to them a mere trifle not worthy of their attention; and an extraordinary celerity in decorating their exterior (which is all the essential part of a Neapolitan's full dress), would soon enable them to appear in company with Neapolitan decency. To my great surprise, therefore, Don Michele and I had to receive, from time to time, an influx of these unbidden guests, who in most submissive language begged a thousand pardons for their freedom and intrusion. As Don Michele, my master of the ceremonies, seemed to know them all, and, moreover, as I could neither help their coming, nor, when once arrived, turn them out, I thought it best to put a good face on the matter, and receive every one, especially the ladies, with a hearty welcome (as pictured forth in the plate), assigning them places in the adjoining room, where I contrived to form another set of dances; for the number of these parasitical guests soon grew nearly equal to that of my standard company. As my company were now capering away in two of my apartments, I blush to confess that my resolution to keep my toes in a state of quiet quiescence was shaken at last. I could have withstood the pressing solicitations of half-a-dozen of these exhilarated damsels, but for the irresistible temptation of their animated example, and of the excellent music. Fancy the loving smiles, the glistening eyes, the seducing attitudes of these pretty Neapolitan bacchantes, and then ask your conscience how long any Christian, were he even a Quaker or Moravian, could have stood proof against such attraction? The worst of the thing was, that having once broken my vow by dancing with Miss Carlina, a kind of rivalry ensued among the other ladies, most of whom now laid a successive claim to be led down a country dance by _il Signor Colonello_. 'In the course of these pedestrian evolutions I thought I observed in several of my fair partners, cheerful as they had been before, an unusual and extraordinary access of spirits and gaiety; which, with every allowance for the southern latitude and the ice punch (now administered to them the more frugally by reason of the unlooked-for increase in my numbers), I was at a loss to account for, till I saw my man Benedetto whisper something into Don Michele's ear, which the latter telegraphed into mine. 'But before I let you into this secret it is proper that, like a skilful general, I should in my report give a correct description of the localities of the field of battle. The kitchen belonging to my apartments is on the same floor with them, and in this particular the Neapolitan system of domestic architecture is not different from what you may have observed in a set of chambers, or in many old-fashioned mansions in England. Right opposite to the entrance of this kitchen of mine there is an elevated shelf, on which stand (I had better say _stood_) my three wine-bottles, of immense calibre; the first (having been emptied since my stay in the _Infrescata_) then, and now, containing from six to eight gallons of excellent atmospheric air (such as you breathe at this altitude); the second, of similar dimensions, about half full of delicious old _Pozzuoli_ wine; and the third, not less in size, brim-full of the like grape-juice, with its fluid oil-bung floating at the top. 'No sooner did one of the damsels espy the forbidden shelf than the assault thereon was a settled matter: _veni, vidi, bibi_, was the word; and my delicious _Pozzuoli_ wine fell an easy prey to their sacrilegious hands and palate. _Implentur veteris Bacchi_, or, in plain English, mesdames tippled till they had their fill, and what they left was very nearly finished by four or five half-starved footmen and other hall rabble in attendance on their worthy masters; for when Don Michele went into the kitchen he found but a small remnant in one of the bottles, which he secured in his own room. 'Inspired with the juice and further excited by the agitation of dancing, most of my fair guests became still more exhilarated; some grew ecstatically merry, and a few scarcely manageable. Surrounded by these voluptuous "bacchæ," I feared the fate of Orpheus. Their frolics, however, I must say to their credit, were chiefly levelled at Don Michele, probably because he had spoiled the continuation of their sport. The poor man had now to suffer all sorts of mischief for refusing to join in their revels, till at last, for the sake of peace, he consented to dance _one_ minuet, and no more. All was hushed in an instant, when he placed himself with his fortunate partner in the middle of the room, as stiff as buckram and as serious as if he were occupied with the solution of an algebraic problem. But no sooner had he performed the first step or two, than, in turning his body with grave elegance on the pivot of his toe, a pair of white silk garters were seen gracefully dangling down his back, and describing, at every turn of his automaton body, a variety of flowing irregular curves in the circumambient air. The merriment which this unusual sight occasioned, was in vain attempted to be stifled in a muttered titter; it soon burst out with increased violence, his wife not excepted, who heartily joined the general laugh, but informed her better half of the cause of the satisfaction he gave the company. When I learned the extent of the spoliation committed upon my bin, I did not so much regret the actual loss I thereby sustained, as apprehend some unpleasant scenes of interruption to our festivity and mirth from the excessive indulgence in the forbidden juice. However, whether it was owing to the excellence of the vintage, or to strength of constitution in the fair partakers, only one casualty occurred. 'The dawn of morn was the signal for the gradual separation of the company, from all of whom, whether of the establishment or extra guests, I had received in the course of the evening the most pressing requests to make their house my own; and to their credit I must say that, as far as I have yet had time or inclination to try the sincerity of their invitations, I have had no cause to regret my complaisance. 'When I relate that five leaden ice-moulds and eight of the confectioner's pewter spoons were missing, you will scarcely suppose that any of the good things, such as cakes, sweetmeats, &c., were suffered to remain on the sideboard at the departure of my guests. Whether this practice not to "leave a wreck behind" is as general here as in Malta, I am unable to decide. At the latter place, let the provision be ever so abundant, what the stomach cannot compass the pockets are sure to hold, and in stuffing those no great nicety is observed; so the article is portable at all, it finds its way into one or the other of the pedestrian saddle-bags as by instinct. I have been assured by one of our officers that, at a great fête which General Fox recently gave at Malta, one of the inhabitants (of sufficient rank to be of the party) very dexterously, and, as he fancied, unobserved, slipped a small pullet, wrapt in his pocket-handkerchief, into one of his side receptacles. Unfortunately, an officer near him, seeing the sleight-of-hand transaction, poured a dose of parsley and butter after it, saying very coolly, "Allow me, sir, to help you to a little sauce at the same time."' 1815. _The Dance of Death._ With illustrations, 2 vols., royal 8vo. Published by R. Ackermann. (See 1816.) 1816. _January 10, 1816._ _Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Bonaparte's Carriage taken at Waterloo._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Bullock's museum of natural curiosities was the receptacle for most of the novelties introduced to the British public at the close of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries. It was here that the sight-seer might view the Laplanders with their deer and sledges, the Hottentot Venus, the Polish dwarf, the Irish giant, and other marvels for the curious which happened to hit the capricious taste of the hour. It seems that the relics of the first Napoleon, made familiar enough to our generation at Madame Tussaud's Baker Street Museum, were the chief attractions held out by the earlier Bullock in 1816. The central point of the collection is the Emperor's travelling carriage; ladies are swarming and climbing over the vehicle, being pushed, dragged, and lifted into the inside, on to the driving-box, over the roof, into the boot behind, on the wheels, and, in fact, wherever a foothold can be secured. There is an animated attendance of visitors; the fair sex are particularly distinguishing themselves. Other personal relics of the Corsican are spread about, much as we see them in our day; the bust of the exile is placed by the side of a monkey, an illustration of the prejudice in which Napoleon was held at that period, which, by the way, is not unnatural, considering the exertions which the European bugbear had employed to ruin English commerce and to alienate our possessions abroad. 1816. _Bullock's London Museum, Piccadilly._[26]--'Mr. Bullock, having purchased Bonaparte's carriage of Major von Keller, has here exhibited it. It was taken by him at the entrance of the small town of Jenappe, at eleven o'clock on the night of June 18, 1815. A full account of the carriage and its ingenious contents is to be found in the _Repository of Arts_ for February 1816.' _March 31, 1816._ _The Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White. In the Whitehall, City of Laputa._--There is no publisher's name on this plate, and the explanation of the subject, a military scandal, is not so clear as could be desired. An officer, dressed as a hussar, is standing in the centre, while being submitted to the whitewashing process; he wears no sword, and is holding a written defence in one hand. Above his head appears an arm, also belonging to an officer, which is menacing the hussar, who is appealing to his friends: 'O save my honour. Rub away, my friend, rub it _home_. O, 'tis the phantom of a horrid dream.' Another officer, from his uniform apparently in the Guards, is treading on a written 'oath,' and, with a pail of whitewash, is doing his best for the so-called 'Blackamoor,' declaring, 'We'll say nothing about your honour!' Another friend, in a Highland uniform, evidently a person of rank, since he wears a red riband, and has a star on his breast, is trying to obliterate the mark of a kick, which has left an ugly outline of a foot on the white pantaloons of the injured individual, but the impression is ineradicable: 'Deel o' me saul, mon, but the stain of the foot will ne'er come oot.' 1816 (?) _Bostonian Electors of Lancashire._ Published by W. Holland. 1816. _Lady Hamilton at Home, or a Neapolitan Ambassador._--The outline of this subject, which is not without its interest as a contemporary sketch of a celebrated trio, is from an original drawing in the collection of the present writer. There seems some discrepancy about the date, since Sir William Hamilton died in 1803, and the sketch evidently belongs to the latter period of the ambassador's life. Sir William Hamilton, whose collection of antiques formed a valuable addition to the national collection in the British Museum, was, it will be remembered, successful in rendering such services to Admiral Nelson, by his influence with the court of Naples, where he resided as British ambassador, that our naval hero was enabled to refit and victual his fleet entirely, without losing the time which would have been sacrificed in returning to England, and thus contributed in a marked degree to assist Nelson in surprising the French fleet in Aboukir Bay, resulting in the famous victory of the Nile, which first checked the tide of Napoleon's career, crippled the power of France, and finally compelled the armies of the Republic to withdraw from Egypt. Lady Hamilton's exertions with the Queen of Naples, over whom she had gained considerable ascendency, were not without their national importance, although her services were entirely ignored in the lady's last days, at a time when the Government left her without that future provision which Nelson, in falling fighting in his country's cause, and bequeathing her claims as a legacy to the nation, imagined he was securing for the support of his friend, who, it is reported, died in abject poverty, if she did not perish of actual want, as it has been hinted. In Rowlandson's drawing, Lady Hamilton, in classic garb, is watering a plant placed in a classic vase; ancient busts, candelabra, and urns are standing about; the furniture, implements, and accessories are all fashioned after the antique. The caricaturist has taken certain freedoms with the person of the Neapolitan ambassador, and Sir William is travestied as a stout personage, suffering from the gout. Another female figure, also draped after the antique, is touching a lyre, and chanting certain ditties of her own composition; this lady represents Miss Cornelia Knight (an authoress of some repute in her day, whose small notoriety rests on her _Continuation of Rasselas_, and her _Private Life of the Romans_)[27] who travelled in the suite of the ambassador with his lady. [Illustration: LADY HAMILTON AT HOME.] A familiar description of Lady Hamilton and her party occurs in a diary by Mrs. Colonel St. George, written during her sojourn among the German courts, 1799 and 1800, and privately printed. The traveller happened to be stopping in Dresden in October 1800, when Lord Nelson, Sir William Hamilton, Lady Hamilton, her mother Mrs. Cadogan, and the poetess arrived, and were received by Mr. Elliot, the English ambassador. The portrait of Lady Hamilton is firmly drawn. Mrs. St. George thus describes the famous 'Emma,' of whose features so many admirable paintings exist limned by the hand of Romney. 'Her figure is colossal, but, excepting her feet, well shaped. Her bones are large, and she is exceedingly _embonpoint_. She resembles the bust of Ariadne: the shape of all her features is fine, as is the form of her head, and particularly her ears; her teeth are a little irregular, but tolerably white; her eyes light blue, with a brown spot in one, which, though a defect, takes nothing away from their beauty and expression. Her eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion coarse. Her expression is strongly marked, variable, and interesting; her movements in common life ungraceful; her voice loud yet not disagreeable. Sir William is old, infirm, all admiration of his wife, and never spoke to-day but to applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the decided flatterer of the two, and never opens her mouth but to show forth their praise; and Mrs. Cadogan, Lady Hamilton's mother, is what one might expect. After dinner we had several songs in honour of Lord Nelson, written by Miss Knight, and sung by Lady Hamilton. She puffs the incense full in his face, but he receives it with pleasure, and sniffs it up very cordially. '_October 7._--Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her represent in succession the best statues and paintings extant. She assumes their attitude, expression, and drapery, with great facility, swiftness, and accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some antique vases, a wreath of roses, a tamborine, and a few children are her whole apparatus. She stands at one end of the room with a strong light on her left, and every other window closed. Her hair is short, dressed like an antique, and her gown a simple calico chemise, very easy, with loose sleeves to the wrists. She disposes of the shawls so as to form Grecian, Turkish, and other drapery, as well as a variety of turbans. Her arrangement of the turbans is absolutely sleight-of-hand, she does it so quickly, so easily, and so well. It is a beautiful performance, amusing to the most ignorant, and highly interesting to the lovers of art. The chief of her imitations are from the antique. Each representation lasts about ten minutes. It is remarkable that, coarse and ungraceful in common life, she becomes highly graceful, and even beautiful, during this performance. After showing her attitudes, she sang, and I accompanied. Her voice is good and very strong, but she is frequently out of tune; her expression strongly marked and various; but she has no flexibility, and no sweetness. She acts her songs.' 1816. _Adventures of Johnny Newcome._ Republished. (See 1815.) 1816. _Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand._ Frontispiece by Rowlandson, 12mo. 1816. _Rowlandson's World in Miniature, consisting of groups of figures, for the illustration of landscape scenery, drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson. To be completed in eight monthly numbers, price 2s. 6d. each._ London: Published by R. Ackermann, Repository of Arts, 101 Strand. _Richardson's Show._ [Illustration: RICHARDSON'S SHOW.] _March 1, 1816._ _A Lying-in Visit._ [Illustration: A LYING-IN VISIT.] _March 1, 1816._ _A Round Dance._ [Illustration: A ROUND DANCE.] _March 1, 1816._ _Recruiting._ [Illustration: RECRUITING.] _April 1, 1816._ _The Ale-house Door._ [Illustration: THE ALE-HOUSE DOOR.] _July 1, 1816._ _A Landing Place._ [Illustration: A LANDING PLACE.] _August 1, 1816._ _A Flying Waggon._ [Illustration: A FLYING WAGGON.] _August 1, 1816._ _The Social Day._ [Illustration: THE SOCIAL DAY.] _September 1, 1816._ _Rustic Recreations._ [Illustration: RUSTIC RECREATIONS.] 1816. _The Relics of a Saint. A Right Merry Tale, by Ferdinand Farquhar._ Frontispiece by T. Rowlandson. London: Printed for T. Tegg, Cheapside. 'Relics!' roar'd Jaconetta, holding both her sides To give her ease, 'Sir, if you please They're only what you gentlemen would call A pair of _Galligaskins_, and that's all.' 1814-1816. _The English Dance of Death._ Published at R. Ackermann's, 101 Strand.--A selection from Rowlandson's famous illustrations to the _Dance of Death_; an ingenious series, quite suited, in spite of the grimness of the performance, to the artist's humour. The publication secured great praise during the designer's lifetime; in point of execution the set leaves nothing to be desired; in regard to picturesque action and easy grouping, the illustrations will bear comparison with any of the artist's works. As in the well-known series by Holbein, Della Bella, &c., Death appears at the most unexpected and inopportune moments, with that stern and ghastly reminder of the futility of human pleasures, successes, and pursuits, of which the most playful satirists have never been able to lose sight. Death, in Rowlandson's series, displays his acknowledged ubiquity; he knocks without ceremony at everyone's portal, and none can deny him admission. Both artist and author seem to have appreciated the resources of their subject so thoroughly, and have worked out its grotesque spirit with such appropriateness, that the _Dance of Death_ must remain a fitting monument of their genius. A large circulation could hardly be anticipated for a work conceived in this realistically fearful vein. Rowlandson has drawn the various episodes which his invention suggested with a completeness of detail rarely found in his later designs, and the plates are executed with the fulness and attention of finished drawings; the figures are delineated with power and spirit, and the backgrounds are most delicate and suggestive. The impressions are also coloured by hand with a judicious eye to effect and harmony. Combe has worked with a vigour worthy of the occasion; and for wit, point, and felicity we are inclined to believe the versification to the _Dance of Death_ surpasses all his other contributions to literature in this branch. The entire series may be accepted as a work of higher character, in all respects, than its popular predecessors, the better recognised _Tours of Doctor Syntax_; and it is superior, beyond comparison, to the works which followed it. THE ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH. FROM THE DESIGNS OF THOMAS ROWLANDSON. _With Metrical Illustrations by the Author of 'Doctor Syntax.'_ LONDON: PUBLISHED AT R. ACKERMANN'S REPOSITORY OF ARTS. Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regúmque turres.--Hor. lib. i. od. 4. With equal pace, impartial Fate Knocks at the palace, as the Cottage Gate. This series was begun in 1814, and finished in 1816; being issued from the Repository of Arts in monthly parts, like the _Tour of Doctor Syntax_ and successive works. The circumstances of its publication are set forth by 'the anonymous author' (William Combe) in one of his brief explanatory 'introductions.' '_The Dance of Death_ is a subject so well known to have employed the talents of distinguished painters in the age of superstition, that little is required to recall it to the recollection of the antiquary, the lover of the arts, and the artist. 'Holbein is more particularly recorded as having employed his pencil upon a work of this kind; but, without entering into a detail of those masters who have treated the subject of the _Dance of Death_, the present object is merely to attract the public attention to the subject itself. Few remains are now visible of the original paintings which represented it, but they have been perpetuated by the more durable skill of the engraver, and the volumes which contain them in the latter form are to be found on the shelves of the learned and curious collector. The subject is the same in them all, but varied according to the fancy of the painters, or perhaps from local circumstances attached to the places which they were respectively intended to decorate. The predominant feature is, without exception, the representation of one or more skeletons, sometimes indeed in grotesque attitudes, and with rather a comic effect, conducting persons of all ranks, conditions, and ages to the tomb. 'Mr. Rowlandson had contemplated the subject with the view of applying it exclusively to the manners, customs, and character of this country. His pencil has accordingly produced the designs, which, in the order they were delivered to me, I have accompanied with metrical illustrations, a mode of proceeding which has been sanctioned by the success of our joint labours in the _Tour of Doctor Syntax_. The first volume, therefore, of the English _Dance of Death_, which has appeared in twelve successive numbers, is now presented to the public in a collected form. The second volume will follow in the same mode of publication. Though the name and tenour of the work is borrowed, it may, perhaps, be allowed some claim to local and characteristic originality. The most serious subject attached to our nature is, indeed, presented with a degree of familiar pleasantry which is not common to it. But in this particular the example of the painters who first suggested and propagated the idea has been followed, and no other vivacity has been displayed in these pages than has been found on the walls of edifices dedicated to religion, and was thus represented in the cloisters of St. Paul's, before the sacrilegious pride of the Protector Somerset caused the dilapidation of that appendage to the metropolitan church of the kingdom. But I am not afraid of being accused by reflecting minds of having introduced an unbecoming levity into the following pages, for that writer may surely claim the approbation of the grave and the good who familiarises the mind with Death by connecting it in any way with the various situations and circumstances of life. 'THE AUTHOR.' The _Frontispiece_ represents the grim form of the spectral foe, his skeleton frame calmly seated on the globe, his grim jaw resting on his arm, and his elbow on his knees; at his feet is the hourglass he has borrowed from Time; he wears the crown, which indicates his universal sovereignty, and in his grasp is the dart which must touch all humanity in turn, and speed them hence. A pipe and tabor are suspended overhead, and bats are flitting above. Round the effigy of destruction are strewn the means wherewith his ends are wrought. A portly register, '_Death's Dance_,' is open; beside it are the symbolical instruments of his decrees--pistols, bullets, daggers, guns, dice, cards, the executioner's axe, a barrel of gunpowder, compounds, drugs, opium, arsenic, mercury, and the various fatal agencies arrayed against the natural preservation of life. A vignette on the engraved _Title-page_ further elucidates the uses of Death's pipe and tabor. The grim King is enjoying himself in his own fashion, dancing his rattling bones right merrily to his own music, which he is congenially piping forth in a cemetery; while the fatal hourglass and dart are laid aside upon the slab of a grave. Death's grim legions, the skeleton messengers of his decrees, are dancing fantastic figures with fiendish gaiety among the tombstones, performing ghastly quadrilles sufficient to scare an involuntary beholder out of his senses. Plate 1. _Time and Death._ Time and Death their thoughts impart, On works of Learning and of Art. The first scene, which we presume is simply introductory, and that Death and his comrade, old Time, have dropped in unprofessionally or as critics, represents two youthful students of the past. The apartment is surrounded with shelves, loaded with piles of busts and figures of the illustrious dead, the effigies of renowned poets, generals, philosophers, statesmen, and all classes of the community, from the earliest times, being presented indiscriminately. From these memorials the artist is sketching the portrait of a departed worthy. A literary gentleman, of a somewhat conventional type, with an open collar, a flowing dressing-gown, slippers, and general easy looseness of attire, having papers before him, and various manuscripts and ponderous volumes scattered around, is about, with a flourish of his quill, to record his impressions of the past; old Father Time, with his bald crown, and grey beard and spectacles on nose, is leaning on his scythe; while the grim King of Terrors is grinning by his side, curiously peering over the shoulders of the unconscious workers, and suggesting-- The time-worn burden of the song That Life is short--but Art is long. Plate 2. _The Antiquarian and Death._ Fungus, at length, contrives to get Death's Dart into his Cabinet. The second plate introduces us to the apartment of an elderly antiquary, who, nightcap on head, is propped up on his couch, with learned tomes littered around him, trying to peer into the pages, with the light of a candle held in a gilt sconce. The chamber of the invalid is surrounded by trophies and relics, and apparatus implying a diversity of tastes, and the means of humouring them. Suits of armour, suits of costume, weapons, busts, ancient plate, musical instruments, vases, urns, idols, &c., are mixed up with sketches, folios of prints, palettes, books, architectural instruments, mortars, retorts, chemicals, and other appliances. A bull-dog is chasing rats, which are invading these richly lumbered domains. Wine, and a flask of vain 'elixir,' are at the antiquary's elbow; but his candle is flickering, and he is already sinking into stupefaction, while the grim King of Terrors,--to the horrent affright of a cat perched on the invalid's bed,--has stealthily stolen into the chamber; and the last unique curiosity, '_Death's dart_,' is about to become the property of the semi-conscious collector. Plate 3. _The Last Chase._ Such mortal sport the chase attends. At Break-neck Hill the hunting ends. The chase is a stag, the dogs have just run the noble beast down; the hunters are making alarming efforts to come in 'at the death,' and accordingly they are piloted by the grim hunter in person, mounted on a skeleton steed, over the edge of a cliff which they perceive too late. The frightened horses rear and plunge, and dash themselves and their riders headlong to destruction. DEATH follow'd on his courser pale, Up the steep hill, or through the dale: But, 'till the fatal hour drew nigh, He veil'd himself from ev'ry eye. 'Twas then his horrid shape appear'd, And his shrill voice the hunters heard: With his fell dart he points the way, Til' astonish'd hunters all obey; Nor can they stop the courser's speed, Nor can they shun the deadly deed; But follow with impetuous force, The potent phantom's mortal course, Down the steep cliff--the Chase is o'er-- The hunters fall--to rise no more! * * * * * Still fate pursues--still mortals fly, The chase continues till they die. Howe'er they live, where'er they fall, DEATH--MIGHTY HUNTER--earths them all! Plate 4. _The Statesman._ Not all the statesman's power, or art, Can turn aside Death's certain dart. Death, according to another picture, has asserted his supremacy in the presence of that very exalted personage, a statesman--whose table, covered with deeds and bags of money, and whose office, attended by numerous suitors, bearing heavy contributions, seem to indicate that the owner has not failed to provide for himself. The portrait of Midas tops the book-case. A footman is pouring out a glass of wine for the great man's refreshment, when the Universal Ruler, the 'King of Terrors,' who in this instance, out of respect possibly to the object of his call, has assumed his crown--is peering forth on the pair from behind a screen; the ghastly summons has driven the colour from the cheeks of his victim, and drawn the power from his limbs. Plate 5. _Tom Higgins._ His blood is stopp'd in ev'ry vein, He ne'er will eat or drink again. The story of Tom Higgins is instructive. He began life as a bricklayer's lad, rose gradually, by care and industry, to a position of influence, and then turned his means to account. A more important line he sought; Houses he jointly built, and bought; Nay, he had somehow learn'd to waste The gay man's wealth in works of taste. After a life devoted to various building schemes and other speculations, whereby Tom Higgins has grown into a man of great estate, he is persuaded to become a squire, and to retire to the country, where his new position and state of being fail to afford him the gratification he had anticipated, and he sighs for the simple joys of his early days. Coombe's easy verses best describe the artist's picture, in which the end of wealth and consequence is graphically set forth, when Death finally drops in and discovers a passive and not unwilling victim in Tom Higgins. At length, wheel'd forth in easy chair, His sole delight was to repair To a small, shaded inn, that stood Contiguous to the turnpike-road: There he could eat, and drink, and smoke, And with the merry curate joke: For though so chang'd in form and feature, He still retain'd his pleasant nature: And, as he took his brimming glass, Was pleas'd to see the coaches pass: Nor did he hesitate to own He envied those who went to town, And long'd to be at Islington. 'Nay, there I'll go once more,' he said, 'But that won't be till I am dead: For wheresoe'er fat Tom shall die, At Islington his bones shall lie. There, where, when I was young and poor, I smok'd my pipe at ale-house door; And now, nor can I Fortune blame, When old and rich, I do the same; And all the good that pass'd between, Will be as if it ne'er had been. But still, I trust, whene'er it ends, Death and Tom Higgins will be friends.' He spoke, and straight a gentle sleep Did o'er his yielding senses creep. The pipe's last ling'ring whiff was o'er, The hand could hold the tube no more; It fell, unheeded, on the floor. Death then appear'd, with gentle tread; Just show'd his dart, and whisp'ring said, 'Spirits, to your protection take him: For nothing in this world can wake him.' Plate 6. _The Shipwreck._ The dangers of the ocean o'er Death wrecks the sailors on the shore. The good ship is sunk in the deep; all is lost; a few fragments of a longboat are thrown upon the beach; the coast is rocky and inaccessible; two exhausted and starving mariners, the remnant of the crew, are the sole survivors, and they have only escaped the dangers of the deep to face a more lingering fate from exposure and want. They are cast down without strength to assist themselves, or encouragement to prolong their miserable existence. Seated on a rock before them, confronting their blank, hopeless, starved faces, sits the grim foe, from whose clutches by sea they have barely escaped. Death in this case is merciful, for he is welcomed as the deliverer. Cries Joe: 'Come, Death, and ease me of my pain, Oh plunge me in the stormy main: Hear my last prayer, and be my friend: Thus let my life and suff'rings end!' He spoke; and lo! before him sat The summon'd messenger of fate. 'Ah! thou art there (the seaman said), I know thee well--but who's afraid? I fear'd thee not, when, at my gun, I've seen the mischief thou hast done! Upon the deck, from helm to prow, Nor, old one, do I fear thee now; But yield me in thy friendly power, And welcome this my final hour.' Death wav'd his arm:--with furious shock, The billows dash'd against the rock! Then, with returning force, they bore The helpless victims from the shore: There sinking, 'neath the foaming wave-- The sailors found--the SAILOR'S GRAVE. Plate 7. _The Virago._ Her tongue and temper to subdue Can only be performed by you. Death is shown, in another plate, as the advocate of peace. It is night, and roysterers are staggering home, assisted by friends, or plundered by the harpies of darkness, according to their fortune. The watch is calling the hour, when good souls should sleep in peace. A fury of an old wife, kicking, fuming, and tearing, is considerately taken in hand by Death, the most effective tranquillising agent; her husband is bowing and lighting his reviling spouse, and her trusty keeper, to the door, while she is vainly screaming for the assistance of the watch. Her departure is viewed with rejoicing. Her husband follow'd to the gate Submissive to the will of fate. 'Farewell (he cried), my dearest dear! As I no more shall see you here, To my fond wish it may be given That we may meet again in Heaven; And since your daily clamours cease, On earth I hope to live in peace. Death, far away, my cares has carried. _Molly,--to-morrow we'll be married!_' Plate 8. _The Glutton._ What, do these sav'ry meats delight you? Begone, and stay till I invite you. A well-to-do gourmand has taken his place at a plentifully supplied table, whereon is spread all kinds of fare; attendants are ministering to his wants, and a handsome and elegantly dressed female is at his side; the arch-jester, Death, has suddenly dropped into a vacant arm-chair at the festive board; joints are scattered, plates are thrown down, the founder of the feast is starting forward in consternation; a male cook, and serving maids, bringing in fresh dishes, are losing their grasp of delicacies which will never, as it now appears, regale the gluttony of their master. The foot of the ghastly skeleton has touched an over-fed spaniel, and the dog lies stiff. Death is politely handing forth his hourglass like a goblet, wherein to pledge his host, and enjoying a cruel pleasantry at the expense of the master of the house. When the knight thought 'twere best be civil, And hold a candle to the devil, 'Do lay that ugly dart aside; A knife and fork shall be supplied; Come, change your glass for one of mine, That shall appear brimfull of wine; Perhaps you're hungry, and may feel A hankering to make a meal, So without compliment or words, Partake of what the house affords.' 'Avaunt,' cried Death, 'no more ado; I'm come to make a _meal_ of _you_!' Plate 9. _The Recruit._ I list you, and you'll soon be found One of my regiment under ground. A party of farm labourers, wearing bunches of ribands in their caps, are being recruited for the wars; they are led by a drummer, with whose steps they are clumsily attempting to keep time. One fine, tall, healthy-looking young fellow is taking leave of his sweetheart; his father, mother, and the rest of his family and friends, grouped around--down to a grotesque-looking dog--are plunged into grief at his departure. Death, who is wearing a plumed hat, a jaunty cloak, and who carries his dart like a halbert, is clutching the shoulder of the recruit, and hurrying forward his legions; the universal captain is reminding his followers of the everlasting burden--_Death_ and _Glory_. Plate 10. _The Maiden Ladies._ Be not alarm'd, I'm only come To choose a wife, and light her home. Death, with an air of awful gallantry, wearing a gay cap, rakishly set on one side of his grim bare skull, with his dart put up guitar-wise, and laying a bony hand on the part of his structure where his heart should be, has arrived, unannounced, with a lantern to offer the courtesies of his escort to a large gathering of elderly spinsters--a 'tabby party' of weird and wizened-looking ancient anatomies--who are met for the joint distractions of scandal and gambling. The cards, the stakes, and the play-table are capsized; a fat footman is gazing with wonder at the guest last arrived, but the old maids are sensible of the nature of his attentions, and they are fluttering about in consternation and terror, as to whose turn has come. Death, it seems, is making a jest of offering what these frozen old maids have lacked through life--a husband. 'Tis Fate commands, and I with pride, Embrace Miss _Mustard_ as my bride. A well-appointed hearse-and-four, Attends her pleasure at the door. The marriage ceremonies wait Her presence at the churchyard gate: My lantern shines with nuptial light; The bells in muffled peal invite; And she shall be--_A bride to-night_. Plate 11. _The Quack Doctor._ I have a secret art to cure Each malady which men endure. Apothecaries' Hall, it might reasonably be hinted by the satirists, was a likely spot for Death's visitations. In Rowlandson's print we find the grim foe in the full exercise of his privileges, pounding away with fatal energy. An apothecary is dispensing various noxious drugs to a considerable crowd of patients, who are disfigured by various sufferings. They will not be kept waiting long apparently, for behind a curtain, Death, grinning at himself with a satisfied air in a mirror, and surrounded by the seeds of mortality, is grinding slow poisons with a will; the motive power of the situation; as an able assistant to the quacks, whose master he knows himself to be. Plate 12. _The Sot._ Drunk and alive, the man was thine, But dead and drunk, why--he is mine. Veteran topers are soaking at the sign of _The Goat_ on the village green; they are bloated and gouty, but convivial and careless. The landlord is looking somewhat horrified to find one of his best and most unwieldy customers carried off by his enraged and scolding wife, for whose assistance Death has himself brought a wheelbarrow in which to cart away her incapable spouse, and in reply to the railings of the vixen the grim death's-head is comically wagging his nether jaw, and logically stating his just claim to this burden of well-saturated clay. Plate 13. _The Honeymoon._ When the old fool has drunk his wine And gone to rest,--I will be thine. A wealthy old dotard, already half in the grave, has committed the last supreme folly of decrepitude, and married a young, beautiful, and blooming maid, whose troth and affections are plighted in advance to a more suitable but less prosperous suitor. The artist has drawn the enjoyments of the honeymoon; the imbecile and antiquated 'happy man,' nightcap on head, is plunged in an invalid chair; a well-stuffed cushion gives ease to his gouty extremities; a table at his side is spread with a costly dessert service. The palsied hands of the venerable idiot are vainly striving to steady a goblet for a bumper; the eager toper does not distinguish the hand which is filling his last glass. The grim skeleton, Death, stooping over a screen, is supplying the final dose from his own fatal decanter. The blushing fair, who has been trying to soothe the gouty torments of her superannuated spouse with music and poetry, is awakened to the sound of a window opening at her back, her name is pronounced; 'tis the gallant and dashing young officer, the man of her choice. Nothing abashed, and without disturbing her attitude beside the invalid, or turning her head, her rounded arm and taper hand are leant over the casement by way of encouragement to her lover, who is availing himself of the opportunity and is embracing her fingers. Think me not false, for I am true: Nay, frown not--yes,--to Love and you. Reason and int'rest told me both, To this old man to plight my troth. I had but little--you had less; No brilliant view of happiness: And though, within the lowest cot, I would have shar'd your humble lot, Yet, when the means I could possess Which would our future union bless, I gave my hand, th' allotted price, And made myself the sacrifice. When I was to the altar led, Age and decrepitude to wed, The old man's wealth seduc'd me there, Which gen'rous Hymen bid me share; And all, within a month or two, I hope, brave boy, to give to you. Behold, and see the stroke of Fate Suspended o'er my palsied mate: For Death, who fills his goblet high, Tells him to drink it, and to die. And now, my Henry dear, depart With this assurance from my heart. I married him, by Heaven, 'tis true, With all his riches in my view, TO SEE HIM DIE--AND MARRY YOU. Plate 14. _The Fox Hunter Unkennelled._ Yes, Nimrod, you may look aghast. I have unkennel'd you at last. A party of fox-hunters, getting ready to start for the chase, are refreshing themselves from substantial joints, and potent stirrup-cups. Death, the grim hunter, uninvited and unannounced, has joined the party, to the consternation of both men and dogs; one disconcerted Nimrod, in palsied affright, has vainly sought concealment under the table; Death, with true sportsman's instinct, is raising the cloth, and simultaneously striking the refugee, 'run to cover,' with his weapon. While Jack, as quick as he was able, Sunk, slyly, underneath the table. The phantom drew the drap'ry back, And, in a trice, unkennell'd Jack: When, after crying Tally-ho!-- He pois'd his dart and gave the blow: Then told his friends to shove Jack Rover Into the hearse which he leap'd over. One or two prints of the series are not treated from a grotesquely horrible point of view. Plate 15. _The Good Man, Death, and the Doctor._ No scene so blest in virtue's eyes, As when the man of virtue dies. In this picture the artist has been at the pains to illustrate, without travesty, the end of a good man, stretched stiff on his last couch. By the side of his bed kneel various members of his family, plunged into the deepest affliction; at the head of the bed stands a benevolent-visaged pastor of the church, who has evidently just administered the last consolations of religion to the departed. The burlesque element, which does not interfere with the main group of the sketch, is settled on the action of Death, who, emblematic as usual, is thrusting before him an evil-looking and overfed quackish practitioner, the extortionate physician, who has boldly declared 'he has no time for praying, but demands his honorarium.' The arch foe has fixed his unrelaxing grip upon the shoulder of Doctor Bolus, who it may be presumed has received his last fee. Plate 16. _Death and the Portrait._ Nature and Truth are not at strife, Death draws his pictures after life. A gouty and decrepit corpulent sitter is propped up by cushions and pillows in an arm-chair placed on a raised stage in a painter's studio. From the canvas it appears that the original of this last act of vanity is a judge. The sitter has evidently reached a state of dotage, and the artist has left his slumbering subject to enjoy a more congenial occupation; he is showing a blushing young damsel, who has accompanied the gout-ridden old judge, certain designs, groups of cupids, and the young couple have seemingly established a very agreeable understanding. Death has fantastically perched himself in the artist's seat, and having assumed his brush and palette, is putting the finishing touches both to portrait and sitter. The painter brings the promis'd aid, And views the change that has been made. He sees the picture's altered state, And owns the master-hand of Fate. 'But, why,' he cries, 'should artists grieve When models die,--if _pictures_ live?' Plate 17. _The Genealogist._ On that illumin'd roll of fame Death waits to write your lordship's name. In the escutcheon-panelled ancestral hall of the peer, surrounded by the evidences of antiquity and wealthy ease, the sepulchral visitor, unbidden, lays down his hourglass, and is shown displaying to the affrighted gaze of a fashionably apparelled old couple, the family genealogical table which he has taken the liberty of unrolling for an unexpected addition he is about to make. On that illumined roll of fame Death waits to write your lordship's name. Whether from Priam you descend, Or your dad cried--_Old chairs to mend_, When you are summon'd to your end, You will not shun the fatal blow; And sure you're old enough to know, That though each varying pedigree Begins with _Time_, it ends with _me_! Plate 18. _The Catchpole._ The catchpole need not fear a jail, The undertaker is his bail. A bailiff is serving a writ outside the Debtors' Prison, the barred windows of which are filled with the faces of persons captured by one _Catchpole, Sheriff's Officer_. The unfortunate prisoners, crowded behind the bars of their jail, are enjoying a grim instance of retributive justice. While the bailiff is startling his victim with his unexpected capture-bespeaking tap, Death, dart in hand, is lightly performing the same ceremony for the stalwart sheriffs officer, who is summoned in his turn, and conclusively. Thus, as he told his stern command, A grisly spectre's fleshless hand His shoulder touch'd. It chill'd his blood, And at the sight he trembling stood. 'You long have ow'd,' the Phantom said, 'What now must instantly be paid.' 'O give me time!' 'Thou caitiff dun, You know full well you gave _him_ none. Your life's the debt that I am suing; 'Tis the last process, Master Bruin.' 'I'll put in bail above.' 'No, no: OLD NICK shall be your BAIL BELOW.' Plate 19. _The Insurance Office._ Insure his life, but to your sorrow You'll pay a good round sum to-morrow. A country squire, in the prime of life, has married a young bride; he is persuaded by his frugal spouse to insure his life as a provision for her maintenance, from prudential reasons. As the young wife sensibly states the case:-- Nature, in all her freaks and fun, Has never given us a son; And there's no jointure, sir, for me Without that same contingency. For your estate's so bound and tied, So settled and transmogrified, (A thing one scarcely can believe) You've not a thousand pounds to leave. The artist has represented the couple arrived in town, and visiting the insurance office, the 'Globe,' or 'Pelican;' the actuary, the secretary, and the doctor are there to pass the customer's life, and Death--spectacles on nose and dart in hand--is also one of the party; unperceived, he is stooping down behind the seemingly robust applicant, and gloating over the mischievous prank he has in contemplation. To this the doctor sage agreed, The office then was duly fee'd, And sign'd and seal'd each formal deed. Now Death, who sometimes loves to wait At an insurance office gate, To baffle the accountant's skill And mock the calculating quill, Had just prepar'd his cunning dart To pierce _Ned Freeman's_ tranquil heart: But lest the stroke should cause dispute, And lawyers conjure up a suit, Death was determined to delay _Ned's_ exit to a future day; And the dull moment to amuse, He turn'd and kill'd a pair of Jews. Thus was the husband's life insur'd, And the wife's future wealth secur'd. But _Death_ had not forgot his fiat, So bid a fever set him quiet; And ere, alas, ten days were past, Honest Ned Freeman breath'd his last. The doctor call'd to certify His glowing health now saw him die. Thus she who lately came to town With not a doit that was her own, Weeping attends her husband's hearse, With many a thousand in her purse, And proves that she's of wives the best Who knows her _real interest_. Plate 20. _The Schoolmaster._ Death with his dart proceeds to flog Th' astonished, flogging pedagogue. The learned schoolmaster, whose years have reached a respectable longevity, is surprised in the midst of his tasks, while training the minds of the youths around him, to discover the grim skeleton Death, _mors pulsat_, concerning whose approach he is well stored with classic instances, seated astride of the terrestrial globe, to the consternation of the scared and flying scholars. The well-read pedagogue is inclined to give his visitor a lesson from Horace in good manners. That he at least should knock, and wait Till some one opes th' unwilling gate. To which Death retorts in reply:-- Doctor, this dart will neither speak In Hebrew, Latin, or in Greek, But has a certain language known In ev'ry age as in our own. The pale spectre proceeds to remind his charge of the prolonged allowance of life which has been allotted to the pedagogue, although he finds his years have proved too short to allow him to complete the legacy of learning it was his fond ambition to leave behind him. The doctor, who seems a kindly preceptor, and one whose self-composure it is difficult to disturb, while resigning his mind to his own fate, is interceding for his pupils. 'But you'll at least these urchins spare, They are my last, my only care.' 'I'll hurt them not, I'll only scare 'em: So die, and _Mors est finis rerum_, Which, for your scholars, I'll translate, Death strikes the learn'd, the little, and the great!' Plate 21. _The Coquette._ I'll lead you to the splendid crowd: But your next dress will be a shroud. A dashing belle, of majestic presence--according to Rowlandson's design--is standing before a toilette table which is elegantly fitted; her costume is just completed, and her tire-woman is holding a light wrapper, when, in spite of the exertions made by a duenna to restrain his brusque invasion, an unexpected intruder is gliding into the handsome chamber. Bowing with the extreme of mock politeness, Death has come as cavalier to escort the lady, who was preparing for a masquerade; his hourglass and dart are slung by his side, he sports a fashionable powdered wig, with a solitaire, a red coat, a cocked hat, dandified pumps, and a frill, which he is fingering with the air of a _petit maître_. According to Coombe's verses, we learn that Flavia, a young lady of _ton_, whose sister is but recently dead, cannot resist the temptation to cast off her mourning for one evening, and apparel herself as the 'Queen of Beauty,' to appear at midnight at Lady Mary's ball. But, as her lovely form receiv'd The robe which Fashion's hand had weav'd, A shape appear'd of such a mien As Flavia's eyes had never seen. 'How dare you enter here,' she said, 'And what's this saucy masquerade? Who are you? Betty, ring the bell.' The Shape replied--''Twill be your knell. I'll save you from the swelt'ring crowd, Form'd by the vain, the gay, the proud, For which your tawdry mind prepares Its fruitless, its coquettish airs. Lady, you now must quit your home For the cool grotto of a tomb. Be not dismay'd; my gallant dart Will ease the flutt'rings of your heart.' He grinn'd a smile; the jav'lin flies, When Betty screams--and Flavia dies! Plate 22. _Time, Death, and Goody Barton. A Causette._ On with your dead, and I'll contrive To bury this old fool alive. Old Time, armed with his scythe, is driving his mortuary cart through a village; the horse is a mere skeleton, but the vehicle is heavily loaded, humanity is heaped up like carcases of no account, in fact the melancholy receptacle is as full as it will hold, and the wheel is passing over the neck of a frightened cur. Death is acting as collector, and has picked up one of the plagues of the village, a troublesome old man, who is kicking, fighting, and protesting against the violent illegality of Death's treatment in throwing his lot amongst the defunct. Stern Time, on the box, is turning round to remonstrate with his assistant. _Time._ While he shows that living face, With me he cannot have a place. _Death._ 'Tis true the fellow makes a riot: There's one jerk more--and now he's quiet. A young wife, who has a soldier-lad in attendance waiting for the shoes of her old husband, is dragging forth an ancient cripple, and pushing him on against his will:-- _Death._ My goody, 'tis too late to-day, Time's moving on, and will not stay; But be at rest and save your sorrow, The cart will call again to-morrow. Plate 23. _The Undertaker and the Quack._ The doctor's sick'ning toil to close, 'Recipe coffin' is the dose. A prosperous quack practitioner, meditating over his specific _sovereign pill to cure all ills_, is riding gravely through the streets of a picturesque country town. As his hack is passing Screwtight the undertaker's window, that worthy is thrown into consternation, for he recognises, immovably perched behind the cogitating empiric, the figure of a grim rider with whose presence he is too professionally familiar to be deceived. And leaping on the doctor's hack, Sat close and snugly at his back; And as they reach'd Ned Screwtight's door, Death sneez'd--and Nostrum was no more. The undertaker is plunged into sincere mourning for the loss of his great patron; his less far-seeing wife declares he ought to rejoice at his good fortune, since there's the job of burying the deceased doctor. Screwtight hung down his head and sigh'd: 'You foolish woman,' he replied, 'Old Nostrum there stretch'd on the ground Was the best friend I ever found. The good man lies upon his back, And trade will now be very slack. How shall we undertakers thrive, With doctors who keep folks alive? You talk of jobs; I swear 'tis true, I'd sooner do the job for you. We've cause to grieve, say what you will, For when quacks die, they cease to kill.' Plate 24. _The Masquerade._ Such is the power and such the strife That ends the masquerade of life. A masked ball is represented at its height, gaily attended, and held in the Pantheon or some similar building. A dance is proceeding; the most diversified scenes meet the eye on all sides, and Rowlandson has given full play to his humorous inventive faculties. In the front of the picture the crowd of merrymakers, all unthinking and unprepared, are horrified to discover a new turn abruptly given to the travesty; the tall figure of Death has suddenly cast away his disguising domino, and holding aside a demoniac mask, is revealing to the terrified spectators the actual figure of the skeleton-destroyer, armed with his dart, and in grim earnest to strike. Harlequins, nuns, monks, devils, Turks, toxopholites, bacchantes, jockeys, Punch, Falstaff, Jupiter, Ophelia, Friar Tuck, watchmen, magicians, fair enchantresses and Circassians, archbishops, Roman heroes, and Grand Signiors--characters in vogue in Rowlandson's day--are thrown down pell-mell and trampling one over the other in their eagerness to get as far away as possible from this unwelcome and awful addition to the excitement of the revelry; this ghastly joker who with unequivocal reality is threatening to extinguish their gaieties for ever. Plate 25. _The Deathblow_. How vain are all your triumphs past, For this set-to will be your last. Two prize-fighters have met on Epsom Downs to decide the championship of the 'Ring,' with umpires, bottle-holders, and all the paraphernalia of the 'fancy.' In the artist's picture one of the combatants has received a fatal blow, and he is stretched lifeless on the turf. The grim figure of Death, the bony personification which permeates the series, has suddenly joined the sport, and he is squaring up to the scared victor in a scientific and confident attitude; the horrified champion is unconsciously raising his strong arms to guard himself against this new opponent, though justly disinclined to continue such an unequal contest. Impressed by the fatal ending of the man he has beaten the winner has conscientiously registered a vow, on the spur of the moment, 'to never fight again.' But Death appear'd! Once more, my friend, Yes, one round more, and all will end. The crowds of fashionable and sporting spectators are all dispersing at the top of their speed, running and driving away from this unexpected opponent, and turning their backs on this involuntary renewal of their favourite diversion. Confusion reign'd throughout the scene, And the crowds hurried from the Green. The roads were quickly covered o'er With chaise and pair and chaise and four, While curricles and gigs display The rapid fury of their way, And many a downfall grac'd the day. As _Playgame_ claim'd a flying bet, His new-built tilb'ry was o'erset: Lord Gammon's barouche met its fate In contact with a turnpike-gate; And _Ned Fly's_ gig, that hurried after, Was plung'd into a pond of water. But, would it not be vain to tell The various chances that befel Horsemen and footmen who that day From _Death's_ dread challenge ran away? For when th' affrighted crowd was gone, And DEATH and HARRY were alone, The spectre hasten'd to propose That they should forthwith come to blows; But Harry thought it right to say, 'As no one's here to see fair play, I'll try your strength another day. Besides, I know not how you're made, I look for substance, you're a Shade, A bag of bones; for aught I know, Old _Broughton_, from the shades below: And though alive I should not dread His power, I war not with the dead.' Thus keeping well his guard he spoke, When grinning Death put in a stroke Which did the short-liv'd round decide, And _Sheffield Harry_, in his pride, Was laid by _Tom from London's_ side. Plate 26. _The Vision of Skulls. (In the Catacombs.)_ As it appears, though dead so long, Each skull is found to have a tongue. A party of the fashionably curious are carrying their taste for sight-seeing down into the catacombs, and the fragments of decaying humanity are lighted up for their ghastly entertainment. In the instance designed by Rowlandson the visitors are lost in horror at the spectacle of the grinning human skulls arranged in trim arcades; they do not notice the person of their conductor, who is more fearful to look upon than the relics around. Death himself, dart in hand, is condescending to act as showman to the gallery of his own furnishing; the torch he holds is whirled aloft in his grisly left arm, in an instant it will be flung into a well of water, which the holiday-makers have not distinguished; darkness must succeed, and many of the spectators may follow the flambeau or lose their way in terror-striking and fearful labyrinths which extend for leagues under the city. Plate 27. _The Porter's Chair._ What watchful care the portal keeps! A porter he who never sleeps. Seated snugly in the hall-porter's easy-chair before the handsome mantel and cheerful fire in the marble-paved hall of a nobleman's mansion, with its statues and embellishments telling of ease, taste, and profusion, is our old friend the grim hero of the series. He is waiting quite tranquilly, impatience is foreign to his impassive temperament; his hourglass is on the ground at his side; his dart is held negligently, but in readiness; a nocturnal bird is hovering suggestively over his fleshless head; he has supplanted the night-porter, and is probably sitting there attending the return of the unprepared owner of these rich surroundings. Some sound has alarmed the servants; the butler has stolen down in his nightcap, armed with sword and pistol; he is collapsed with terror, and his defences are dropping from his hand on making the discovery that Death has established himself in the hall; and the fat cook, who is also paralysed with horror, has taken a false step, and is falling giddily down the staircase, whence her head will come in violent contact with the marble floor; and Death without turning in his seat may confidently count upon one victim in advance. For at the time Death's pleas'd to come, We all of us must be at home. Plate 28. _The Pantomime._ Behold the signal of Old Time, That bids you close your pantomime. A pantomimic scene is transpiring; according to the artist's picture, it is the very last place where Death's ghastly impersonation could be considered a diverting addition to the company. The background represents the sea-shore; Columbine, supported on the arm of Harlequin, is pirouetting and posturing in amorous poses; the other personages of the mimic theatre are thrown into actions which are entirely unpremeditated, while their countenances wear expressions which supply ghastly contrasts to their motley. Death once more has intruded his bony person on the stage, the inevitable dart is held slily behind him, and in the painted and terror-stricken faces of Pierrot and Pantaloon the tale-telling hourglass is held up, the sand has run through, and the mummers must away hence. The stage wizard is stretched at length on his back, and his wonder-working magic sword is mere lath and tinsel before the weapon of this grim supernatural actor, who has come, unengaged, to give a new turn to the show. Thus may Death's image aid delight, 'Mid the gay scen'ry of the night: But in the pantomime of years, 'Tis serious all when Death appears. For then no grin can Pierrot save; He finds the trap a real grave; Old Pantaloon, with all his care, Will cease to be an actor there; _Lun's_ magic sword, with all its art, Must yield to Fate's resistless dart, And when life's closing scene is o'er, The curtain falls to rise no more. Plate 29. _The Horse Race._ This is a very break-neck heat; And, squire jockey, you are beat. The artist has pictured a race-course; in the distance the grand stand, a group of tents, and crowds of equestrians and equipages may be distinguished. A file of race-horses, with their jockeys and trainers, are being walked up to the starting point. A crowd of mounted 'sporting gents,' the _élite_ of the patrons of the turf, are assembled round the 'betting post,' shouting the odds and eagerly making their engagements before the approaching start. Nearer the spectator is displayed some of the fun of the course, which never failed to strike Rowlandson's eye. An old dame has a table and an arrow, at which sundry juvenile rustics are gambling for cakes, and a Jew pedlar is tossing with two sportive urchins for nuts. The _Dead Heat_ referred to in Coombe's lines is shown in the person of an anxious country squire, who, afraid of arriving at the betting post too late to speculate, is pushing his horse along madly to arrive in time, without noticing a skeleton steed, neck and neck with his own, whose jockey is the inevitable skeleton, _Mors_, wearing a gay cap and feather, and turning his dart to account as a riding-whip. Now Jack was making to the post, The busy scene of won and lost, When to all those he saw around, He cried, 'I offer fifty pound, That to yon gambling place I get Before you all.' Death took the bet. The squire's mare was _Merry Joan_, And Death rode _Scrambling Skeleton_. They started, nor much time was lost Before they reach'd the gambling host: But ere they reach'd the betting pole, Which was the terminating goal, O'er a blind fiddler _Joan_ came down, With fatal force poor Jack was thrown, When a stone on the verdure laid Prov'd harder than the rider's head. Death way'd aloft his dart and fled. Plate 30. _The Dram-Shop._ Some find their death by sword and bullet, And some by fluids down the gullet. Death is discovered nefariously at work adulterating the spirit-casks with vitriol and aquafortis. Plate 31. _The Gaming-Table._ Whene'er Death plays, he's sure to win! He'll take each knowing gamester in. Death, the successful player, is shown stripping the table of the stakes and breaking the bank by force. But Death, who, as he roams about, May find the _Gaming Table_ out; * * * * * He enters; when the fearful shout Echoes around of 'turn him out.' 'No,' he replies, 'that gold is mine: Gamester, that gold you must resign. Now life's the main,' the spectre cries: He throws, and lo! the gamester dies. Plate 32. _The Battle._ Such is, alas, the common story Of blood and wounds, of death and glory. Death is engaged in serving a battery which is sweeping all before it. Plate 33. _The Wedding._ Plutus commands, and to the arms Of doting age she yields her charms. Death, with a wig, bands, and gown, is within the altar railings performing the marriage service with an air of mocking reverence; the actors in the marriage ceremony do not appear to have recognised the dread personage who is tying the nuptial knot, to be instantly cut asunder by the end of the effete bridegroom. Plate 34. _The Skaters._ On the frail ice, the whirring skate Becomes an instrument of fate. The scene represents one of the parks, the waters are frozen over and crowded with pleasure-seekers of both sexes indulging their amusement in the teeth of danger--nay, as it appears in the picture, in the very jaws of death. The skeleton foe is taking his pastime amongst the crowd, and combining relaxation with business. The ice is suddenly giving way in all directions, and the skaters are tripped up by the grim evolutionist. They are falling headlong into the water, fatal casualties are occurring on all sides, and the distant crowds, who are scrambling away incontinently since the arch-enemy has volunteered to share their pastime, are coming into violent collision, and falling on the ice, breaking their limbs or suffering fatal concussions. Plate 35. _The Duel._ Here honour, as it is the mode, To Death consigns the weighty load. Nowhere could Death's presence be more suitably manifested than on the field of honour; and, as the artist has pictured the situation, the parties are met to settle some trifling dispute; seconds and surgeons are naturally in attendance. Death is promptly dashing in and dragging off a stout combatant in the prime of life, who, having just received his quietus, is caught in the arms of the omniscient and universal antagonist before his falling body can touch his mother earth. Plate 36. _The Bishop and Death._ Though I may yield my forfeit breath, The Word of Life defies thee, Death. The artist, with that talent which distinguished him above his contemporaries, has concluded the first volume of the _Dance of Death_ with a nobler design; an occasion is presented with deeper purpose wherein Death is shorn of the majesty of terror. A venerable bishop, seated in a handsome Gothic apartment of the episcopal palace, with the Book of Life open before him, and his chaplain in attendance, is receiving an abrupt visitation from the ghastly spectre. The difficulty of frightening the reverend victim, whose mind seems well prepared for the end, however premature, has made Death put himself somewhat out of the way to appear sensationally startling; his grim humour seems to have been laid aside for once, and he is weakly seeking effect in a theatrical pose, striking a stagey attitude, poising his weapon, and holding on high his warning hourglass. The whole impression is admirably conveyed. The Destroyer's posture is pretentious without being imposing; he has missed his point; this bombastical terrorism has nothing of the terrific left in it, and Death looks somewhat disappointed on failing to produce more consternation. The bishop is calmly receiving his turbulent visitor, with an air which seems to demand, without perturbation: 'O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?' THE ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH. SECOND VOLUME. Plate 1. _The Suicide._ Death smiles, and seems his dart to hide, When he beholds the suicide. Upon a rock-bound shore, whose jagged boulders come down to the deep, dashes a troubled sea, the waters of which are settling down after a tempest. Upon the foam floats the form of a drowned man; above is seen the figure of a female, forlorn and reckless, who has come to meet her future husband, and finds only his corpse--his life lost in a valiant effort to succour a sinking fellow-creature from a wreck. The tidings to the bride were brought, In frantic haste the spot she sought, And viewing from the heights above All that remain'd for her to love, She darted headlong to the tide, And on her Henry's bosom died. Death is present at this moving scene, lolling at his ease on the rock from whence the maiden is plunging; his dart is affectedly put aside, and he is pretending to wipe away a sentimental tear. Plate 2. _Champagne, Sherry, and Water-Gruel._ Have patience, Death, nor be so cruel To spoil the sick man's water-gruel. The verses intended to illustrate this picture of Death's visitations contain an argument between three friends on the best means of regulating their lives; the artist has worked out this theory in his plate. One member of the party assembled, a stout florid old gentleman, declares his golden rule in life has been to please himself, so he and his daughter are illustrating his text by drinking full bumpers of champagne; beside him, sipping his thimblefuls of sherry, is another theorist, who has passed his days in moderate indulgences. In an invalid chair beside the fire sits their host, a vaporous hypochondriac, who has passed his existence in humouring imaginary ills on a diet of sago and doctor's stuff. His nurse is preparing a saucepan of gruel, which the _Mortis Imago_, as his convivial friend has christened him, is preferring to more exhilarating beverages. Death has stepped in and settled the question as to which of these old schoolfellows shall last the longest; he has placed his bony hand on the shoulder of the great patron of doctors, and before departing with his 'meagre meal' he is giving the friends, who are allowed to survive for the time being, this piece of gratuitous advice if they would put off his visits as long as possible:-- Extremes endeavour to forego, Nor feed too high, nor feed too low. Plate 3. _The Nursery._ Death rocks the cradle: life is o'er: The infant sleeps, to wake no more. This picture may be designated a warning to fashionable mothers. A fine infant has been 'put out to nurse;' it is evident that the child would have been better at home. The 'foster mother' is a coarse sloven, and has neglected her charge for her self-indulgence. The natural parent, a handsome young woman, dressed in the height of the mode, and accompanied by friends of quality, has yielded to a sudden impulse to pay a visit to her offspring. The door of the cottage is opened, and this is what meets the horrified eyes of the party. The nurse sunk in a drunken sleep, her head on a cushion, another cushion at her feet, a flagon of spirits at her elbow and a glass in her hand, and a starved cat on her chair; the infant's food upset on the floor, the apartment neglected, a clothes-line and damp linen stretched over the infant's head, and Death sitting by, grotesquely rocking the cradle, and singing his mortal lullaby. No shrieks, no cries will now its slumbers break, The infant sleeps,--ah, never to awake! Plate 4. _The Astronomer._ Why, I was looking at the Bear: But what strange planet see I there! The astronomer, who from his surroundings would also seem a student of miscellaneous sciences, is seated in his observatory, deep in the contemplation of the planets. Grim Death has called to summon the 'learned Senex' hence, and he is playing his victim a final prank. One evening, as he view'd the sky Through his best tube with curious eye, And 'mid the azure wilds of air Pursu'd the progress of a star, A figure seem'd to intervene, Which in the sky he ne'er had seen, But thought it some new planet given, To dignify his views of heaven. 'Oh, this will be a precious boon! Herschel's volcanoes in the Moon Are nought to this,' old Senex said; 'My fortune is for ever made.' 'It is, indeed,' a voice replied: The old man heard it, terrified; And as Fear threw him to the ground, Through the long tube Death gave the wound. Plate 5. _The Father of the Family._ The doctors say that you're my booty; Come, sir, for I must do my duty. Death, in this picture, has rather a hard tussle for it. His friends, the learned physicians, who are pocketing their fees, and turning their backs on their late patient, are hurrying away. Death, with a great show of force, has seized his victim, still in the pride of manhood, by the dressing-gown, and is seeking to drag him from the frantic embraces of those to whom his life is dear. The father and mother are remonstrating with this merciless abductor; the blooming wife and infants of the unfortunate are cast down in despair; his sisters have seized him boldly round the waist, and, one behind the other, are making a sturdy stand against the fatal messenger; the servants and all the inmates of the noble mansion have rushed out, and are endeavouring by their entreaties, or by a show of resistance, to stay the steps of the tyrant. Plate 6. _The Fall of Four-in-Hand._ Death can contrive to strike his blows By overturns and overthrows. Death has come again, in his irresistible shape, and he has found the occasion ready to his hand. A dashing charioteer, a man of wealth and fashion, with a gaily attired female by his side, is tearing along, eager to leave behind The common coursers of the wind, In more than phaetonic state, For every horse had won a plate. But on arriving at a low bridge, which spans a torrent, the blood horses become unmanageable; the driver sighs for a 'tight postilion,' and behold on the 'leader' is seated one who will spur the whole team to destruction; the horses are sent over the narrow bridge, the tall curricle is capsized, and eternity is instantly opened to the careless pleasure-seekers. Plate 7. _Gaffer Goodman._ Another whiff, and all is o'er, And Gaffer Goodman is no more. Gaffer Goodman is a selfish sybarite, who has secured a charming rustic maiden for his wife, as being a proceeding more economical than engaging a nurse. The gaffer, whose existence is centred on creature comforts, is seated in his huge easy-chair, under a row of goodly hams, a provision for the future, before his Brobdingnagian fireplace, with a cosy nightcap, dressing-gown, and slippers for ease, meditating over the good things preparing for dinner, his beer jug ready to hand and warming, sunk in the tranquil enjoyment of his pipe. Another smoker has, unperceived by the gaffer, planted himself by his side, burlesquing his enjoyment, and timing his whiffs to the final puff. The neat and pretty wife, sacrificed to the selfishness of the old yeoman, is cheerfully spinning her flax at the open window, leaning through which the artist has introduced a well-favoured youth, her late sweetheart, discarded by necessity, but soon to be consoled, as the lady is assuring the lad of her heart. 'When I declare that I'll be true To Gaffer Goodman, and to you: And when he does his breath resign, Be wise--and Strephon, I'll be thine.' 'Then take her, Strephon,' Death replied, Who smoking sat by Goodman's side: 'Her husband's gone, as you may see, For his last pipe he smok'd with me.' Plate 8. _The Urchin Robbers._ O the unconscionable brute! To murder for a little fruit! The plate represents a pretty, trimly kept garden, belonging to a mansion of some pretensions. A group of young marauders have been stripping the orchard. They are suddenly scared by the apparition of the gardener, whose person is disclosed over a bush beside his greenhouses, where, gun in hand, he has been lying in ambush, to teach his troublesome tormentors a lesson. Some of the marauders have gained the wall, and are dragging up their comrades. Others are following, loaded with well-filled bags of plunder; a bigger lad is seized in the rear by the gardener's dog. The man has no deadly intentions, he merely wishes to frighten the urchins as a warning; but the grim figure is lurking undiscovered by his side; the musket is discharged, and to the affright of the custodian of the fruit, a youth falls lifeless to the ground. 'Twas not his aim which had wrought this mischief; the whole affair was pre-arranged by his unperceived companion, with the most plausible motives, as Death himself confesses. I drove the boy to scale the wall, I made th' affrighted robber fall, I plac'd beneath the pointed stone That he had crack'd his skull upon. I've been his best and guardian friend, And sav'd him from a felon's end: Scourging and lectures had been vain! The rascal was a rogue in grain, And, had I lengthen'd out his date, The gallows would have been his fate. You living people oft mistake me, I'm not so cruel as you make me. Plate 9. _Death turned Pilot._ The fatal pilot grasps the helm, And steers the crew to Pluto's realm. The sea is in a tempest, and the wrecks of two good ships are battling with the foaming waters. A number of unfortunate creatures are endeavouring to escape in a longboat, pulled by the rowers with the vigour of despair; but the struggle for life is cut short; grim Death has taken his place in the stern, he is exultingly flourishing Time's hourglass before the horrified survivors, and wilfully steering the bark to destruction; the head of the boat is dipping beneath the waves, and a watery grave completes Death's handiwork. Plate 10. _The Winding-up of the Clock._ No one but me shall set my clock: He set it, and behold the shock. The picture represents a general scene of downfall. A stout clergyman has obstinately insisted on his right to attend to his own timepiece over the chimney-glass. His fat body has lost its balance, the steps are overturned, the breakfast table and its equipage are brought to ruin; the shock, aided by the sly hand of Death in ambush, has upset his portly wife in her arm-chair, and a general destruction is hinted of persons and property alike. Plate 11. _The Family of Children._ 'Twere well to spare me two or three Out of your num'rous family. In this plate we are introduced to a scene of extensive domestic felicity; at a breakfast-table is seated the father of a numerous family, surrounded by fourteen pledges of conjugal affection; another child is in a nurse's arms, and in the apartment beyond may be perceived the worthy and prolific partner of his joys, who has lately presented her husband with their sixteenth infant. Death proposes to take one or two of these children under his charge, but the good father will not hear of it. 'Well then, let it be the infant,' proposes the greedy fiend. 'No, 'twould break the mother's heart!' 'Whom shall I strike then?' Death demands. The benevolent parent can only suggest 'the nurse.' Plate 12. _Death's Door._ In this world all our comfort's o'er, So let us find it at Death's door. Death's bony person is half thrust through his portals--which lead to the grave--as he has been disturbed by a boisterous summons thundered at his gate. He seems quite shocked at the importunities of a crowd of unfortunates who are clamorous in their demands for instant admittance to the unknown realms. Madmen, the extremely aged, the gouty, the bereaved, those afflicted with poverty, disease, scolding wives, the hungering, cripples, forsaken ones, and a multitude of various sufferers to whom the buffets of life have proved insupportable, are supplicating refuge from an unkindly world. Plate 13. _The Fire._ Let him go on with all his rigs; We're safe; he'll only burn the pigs. Death in this plate is represented as a reckless incendiary; he is flourishing a brace of flaming torches, and is bent on doing all the mischief within his power. A farmhouse is the object of his destructiveness; the cattle are escaping, and the family, disturbed from their slumbers by fire, are huddled together with such articles as could be secured in a hurried flight when their own lives were endangered. The unfortunate pigs may count on being roasted, as nothing can save the farm from the flames. Plate 14. _The Miser's End._ Old dad at length is grown so kind, He dies, and leaves his wealth behind. The miser is laid out prone, half-starved, his stiffening hands are still grasping bonds, notes, and a bag of money; his body is propped up by a 'book of interest,' and he has died, without the ease of a bed, on a mattress placed on the floor of his strong room. His iron boxes and money chests are opened by Death, who is leading the miser's delighted heirs into the treasure-chamber, where the bags of wealth, heaps of coin, and files of securities have banished all remembrance of the miserable corpse, lately the self-denying hoarder of these superfluous riches. Plate 15. _Gretna Green._ Love, spread your wings, I'll not outstrip 'em, Though Death's behind, he will not clip 'em. A coach-and-four, driven by two postilions, is speeding off to Scotland; it contains a fair ward, and a captain, her abductor. This hopeful pair are eloping to Gretna Green; the ward is escaping from the house of her old guardian, who had a desire to marry her himself for her wealth; the baffled and avaricious tyrant is riding his hardest to overtake the fugitives, who are threatening him with pistols held out of either window. Death, mounted on a skeleton steed, is riding step for step with the pursuer, whose horse will presently stumble, the chase will be over, and the greedy guardian's schemes will be abruptly brought to an end. Plate 16. _The Waltz._ By Gar, that horrid, strange buffoon Cannot keep time to any tune. A French dancing-master, while playing on the fiddle, is exercising a pretty and graceful maiden in the dance; the professor is out of temper with the fair pupil's partner, although the lady seems absorbed in the excitement of the motion. 'Tis Death waltzing his delicate victim--entranced and unsuspicious--into a consumption, which will end in the churchyard. Plate 17. _Maternal Tenderness._ Thus it appears a pond of water May prove an instrument of slaughter. The picture in this instance represents a lake situated in a noble park. Two youths have been tempted to bathe; one is lifted out of the water apparently lifeless. His mother, who has been alarmed by the intelligence of her son's danger, has just arrived, at the instant that the seemingly dead body is borne to the bank. The sudden shock has proved too much for nature to withstand. The tender parent falls back overpowered and unconscious, and Death, with an air of solicitude, is ready there to catch her falling form in his bony support, since she has become his charge. Plate 18. _The Kitchen._ Thou slave to ev'ry gorging glutton, I'll spit thee like a leg of mutton. While dinner is just prepared for my lord's table the stout _chef_ and his attendant myrmidons are thrown into disorder by the appearance of an unwelcome intruder. Dishes are dropped, everything is forgotten but personal security. The fat first male cook is the object of Death's attack, and the grim skeleton, armed with a long roasting spit, is trampling over the fallen person of a frightened kitchen-maid, and is proceeding to impale the great _chef_, who is the only person present that is making a stand against the assassin. Plate 19. _The Gig._ Away they go, in chaise and one, Or to undo or be undone. A sporting tradesman, driving a highly spirited horse, is taking his lady out for exercise on an excursion. Frightened by a dog, the mettlesome horse is dashing away distracted; another object, the figure of Death seated on a milestone, has completed the scare; the steed is tearing wildly towards the margin of a cliff which overhangs the sea; the driver is trying to pull up, the reins snap, and he is dashed out on his head, while his companion leaps off, to fall a corpse at the feet of the grim figure perched on the milestone. Plate 20. _The Mausoleum._ Your crabbed dad is just gone home: And now we look for joys to come. The heroine of this adventure is an heiress who is loved by a certain lord, but in spite of the daughter's inclinations and the quality of the suitor, the crabbed father will neither part with his child nor his wealth while he retains his place in life. This impediment is removed in the picture. While the unreasonable parent is hobbling on his crutches into the entrance of a mausoleum, the door of which Death is assiduous to open for the reception of his expected visitor, the happy couple, overjoyed, are walking, locked in a tender embrace, to his lordship's equipage, at the door of which two footmen are standing in readiness, while the coachman is waiting to drive the delighted pair to be married. Plate 21. _The Courtship._ It is in vain that you decide: Death claims you as his destin'd bride. Another fair heiress forms the subject of this fresh whim of Death's fancy. The lady is what the author terms a 'philosopher in love,' and she cannot decide to quit her state of independence. A conclave of her suitors are assembled to argue the marriage question, and, by the maiden's wish, to allow her a chance of judging by comparison. The array of aspirants is comprehensive; there is a colonel, a lawyer, a parson, a doctor, a quaker, and a baronet. Each pretender to her hand and fortune in turn argues the inducements he has to plead; this done, it rests with the lady to reply to the respective arguments and examine their motives. While logically disposing of all their fine persuasions, the intractable fair is claimed by a suitor who will take no denial. The reasoning of the arch-enemy is unanswerable:-- She is not fit, strange maid, to wed With living wight, but with the dead: I therefore seize her as my bride. Belinda trembled, gasp'd, and died. Plate 22. _The Toastmaster._ 'The end of life,' the chairman cries; 'Tis drank--and many a toper dies. A scene of gross intoxication is proceeding. A convivial company is assembled; the effort of every individual's ambition is apparently the downfall of his neighbour by successive toasts; bowl succeeds bowl, and half the assembly are _hors de combat_. A new chairman has, uninvited, installed himself at the head of the table, and he is making the liquor circulate with such hearty goodwill that the topers have received him, in spite of his repellant exterior, as one of themselves. Death has ordered in fresh supplies of steaming punch, which he is ladling out to the fascinated tipplers; it is the final toast, and no one dares refuse to pledge it. 'One bumper more,' and the jovial meeting will be dissolved for ever. Plate 23. _The Careless and the Careful._ The careful and the careless led To join the living and the dead. The picture introduces us to the gate of Vauxhall Gardens; the light-hearted visitors are quitting the entertainment. The wise virgins are carefully wrapped up with cloaks, hoods, scarves, and muffs, and duly lighted home by cautious guardians carrying lanterns. In the foreground the foolish revellers are portrayed. They have left the heated dancing room in their light attire; a couple of giddy maidens, who are too careless to wait for their coach, are skipping off into the damp and chilling atmosphere without a wrapper, their thin dresses blowing in the wind, and running home under the escort of a gallant major. Death, with a jaunty cap on his head, and muffled in a cloak which disguises his ghostly frame, is dancing before, a very 'will-o'-the-wisp,' dangling about a flickering lantern, a dangerous guide whom they fail to recognise. 'Twas Death, alas, who lit them home, And the fools' frolic seal'd their doom. Plate 24. _The Law Overthrown._ The serjeant's tongue will cease to brawl In every court of yonder Hall. A busy lawyer, hastening away from Westminster Hall, where he has been exercising his lungs, has jumped into a chariot without noticing the driver on the box-seat. In this case Death is officiating as charioteer; he is whipping his horses with a vengeance. The serjeant's coach is endangering the life of a brother counsel, a dog is running between the frightened barrister's legs, and his end seems imminent. Death has chosen to wreck the carriage over a pile of stones and a heavily-loaded wheelbarrow which the paviours have left in the course of road-mending. The serjeant, brief in hand, is thrusting his angry face through the front of the capsizing vehicle, vehemently threatening penalties and vowing to bring an action against his coachman. Fate to the stones his head applies; The action's brought--the serjeant dies. Plate 25. _The Fortune-teller._ All fates he vow'd to him were known, And yet he could not tell his own. In this instance we are introduced to the 'chamber of mystery' of a pretended fortune-teller. The empiric seer is surrounded by the paraphernalia of his profession; a crocodile is suspended to the ceiling, above a mystic string of orbs, and the globes have an uncanny black cat perched thereon, a witch at the least. Two credulous ladies of fashion have called to consult the pretentious impostor, who rejoices in the fur cap, flowing robes, long beard, and divining rod of a magician; a book of nativities is open before him:--'To me all fates, all fortunes known;' to which Death retorts, in hollow voice: 'Vain boaster, tell your own.' A greater conjuror is present concealed behind Merlin's seat; a jerk, and the wizard is no longer above deception; he is overturned, his neck is broken amidst the wreck of his mummeries scattered around. Plate 26. _The Lottery Office._ To trust to fortune's smiles alone, Is the high road to be undone. The evil of permitting lotteries, which were still in existence and flourishing at the time this plate was projected, is set forth in a graphic design. A crowd of needy adventurers have hurried to the lottery office, eager to know if fortune has assigned them lucky numbers. Jews, misers, and all sorts of gamblers, including a mob of hardy rogues who have purloined their employers' property to tempt the smiles of the fickle goddess, are darting from the office in dismay. An unlucky female, who has ventured her all, and even risked the means and belongings of others on the chance of winning a prize, has come to inquire her fate. The grim foe has exultingly taken his place among the clerks; he is holding out two blanks with an air of fiendish malice, and the shock is proving a deathblow to the unfortunate fair gambler, she is expiring in the office. Plate 27. _The Prisoner Discharged._ Death, without either bribe or fee, Can set the hopeless pris'ner free. Death in this case is still shown interfering with the course of others' business. The picture represents a debtors' prison; a wife and two daughters have come to visit an unhappy captive, the head of the family, who is detained by a relentless creditor. They just arrive in time to see their relative released beyond the resistance of mortal detainers. The deadly foe has called at the gate, the prisoner is summoned forth, warders and turnkeys dare not refuse to let him free in such company. A mortified Shylock and his disappointed lawyer are furiously pointing to their bonds, and dancing with rage to find their ends defeated by the grim joker, who is grinning at their manifest discomfiture. Plate 28. _The Gallants Downfall._ Th' assailant does not feel a wound, But yet he dies--for he is drown'd. A military Don Juan is the unfortunate hero of this adventure. He loves the beauteous daughter of a fire-eating superannuated colonel, Full of romantic gallantry, he has planted a ladder at his mistress's window, and is mounting nimbly where Cupid invites him, without observing the grim figure which has hold of his scaling-ladder. The sturdy colonel, awakened by the unaccustomed and suspicious sounds in his grounds, has fired his evening gun into the darkness, at most expecting to startle the cats. Death capsizes the ladder, the youthful lieutenant loses his balance and falls headlong into a pond on the lawn, whence his body is fished out in the morning, to the surprise of the household. Plate 29. _The Churchyard Debate._ 'Tis strange, but true, in this world's strife, That Death affords the means of life. The picture in this instance gives a philosophic view of the end of man, and represents a snug assembly of the fortunate individuals who prosper professionally by the influence of the grim foe's assistance. Seated convivially on tomb-slabs, awaiting the arrival of a hearse and mourning _cortége_, is the author of the mischief hobnobbing with his friends and allies. Death and the doctor are blowing a cloud together in cheerful company, for the parson, the lawyer, and the sexton are pleased with his society. The undertaker is no less grateful to his useful patron, and even the distant bell-ringer acknowledges the value of his acquaintanceship. Plate 30. _The Good and Great._ What heartfelt tears bedew the dust Of him whose ev'ry thought was just. The funeral of a great and benevolent man is the subject of this cartoon. The venerable lord of the manor is dead; the stately funeral is setting out with its doleful attendants from the lordly hall. The coffin, with its emblazoned pall, is followed by a long train of mourners, whose sorrow is sincere; Death is congenially employing himself as bearer of the funeral plumes; and in this capacity, bending under the melancholy feathers, he is taking the lead of the procession. The tenants and villagers are standing uncovered as the body of their best friend is borne past; aged and young alike are giving way to unaffected grief, and it is evident that they regret the loss of a respected and kindly landlord, who has made himself loved by his neighbours. Plate 31. _The Next Heir._ 'Tis not the time to meet one's fate, Just ent'ring on a large estate. The _Next Heir_ forms a pendant to the _Good and Great_, and exhibits a picture the contrast of the foregoing. The nephew, a dashing London blade, has succeeded to the title and the estates. He is supposed to arrive post haste at the mansion, which is still plunged in mourning for the late owner. The pastor and the tenants are drawn up to receive their new master. The approach of the departed lord's successor is filling their faces with dismay. The devil-may-care 'blood' is tearing up to the hall in a tandem, his followers are clothed in deep black, but beyond this he displays no regard for the dead; his servants are clashing up on horseback, his huntsman is giving a blast of his horn, his grooms are shouting 'Tally-ho!' and a pack of hounds are barking on all sides. Death is acting as postilion, and as this unthinking heir drives up to the entrance-court his head is caught by the hatchment put up to the late lord, and his mad career is cut short at the very threshold. Plate 32. _The Chamber War._ When doctors three the labour share, No wonder Death attends them there. The case of the invalid who forms the principal figure in the present subject must indeed be a desperate one, since the doctors, after a wordy warfare disputing over the case of the patient and the proper treatment, have come to blows in real earnest. Medicine bottles, and all the accessories of a sick chamber, are thrown to the ground, the table is overturned, wigs are sent flying, and a regular scrimmage with fisticuffs is taking place. Four practitioners are cuffing one another in the presence of their victim, with professional energy, and the sick nurse is cutting in, attacking the shaven crowns indiscriminately with the utensils which first come to hand. The sufferer is thrown into a mortal fright, but Death has very considerately called in to attend to his wants, and his disquietude will soon cease beyond the fear of a relapse. Plate 33. _Death and the Antiquaries._ Death, jealous of his right, stands sentry Over the strange burglarious entry. A party of ardent archæologists are holding a meeting in the abbey. They have obtained permission to open a royal grave, and the sexton has performed his part, and raised the slab of the vault in which the body of a king has reposed undisturbed for centuries. The coffin is raised, the lid removed, and the corpse, with its regal trappings, is laid open to their inspection. Full of enthusiasm, the antiquaries are clustering round the coffin in crowds, eager to get a sight of the decaying monarch. Nor do they heed the risk they run, for Death, jealous of this interference with his rights, is prepared to resent their intrusion; and, mounted on an adjacent tomb, he is about to plunge his dart into the thickest of the learned throng. Plate 34. _The Dainty Dish._ This fine hot feast's a preparation To some for Death's last cold collation. A sumptuous feast is represented: the handsome dining-room is filled with voracious guests; footmen are waiting on the diners, or attending to side tables; butlers are drawing corks, course is following course, the cook and his assistant train are hurrying in with fresh dishes. Among the waiters, undetected, is our friend the grisly skeleton, who is busying himself with a dish he is conveying to the table. It is the favourite delicacy of the corpulent host, and he has expressed a desire for 'just one slice more' of his esteemed dainty. The grim foe is determined to take the entertainer at his word, and that 'one slice more' will be his last indulgence. Plate 35. _The Last Stage._ From hour to hour, from youth to age, Life's traveller takes th' uncertain stage. The sketch in this suggestive plate introduces us to the court-yard of the _Dolphin Inn_, a famous posting-house. The life to be found in these coach-yards was attractive material to our artist, and he has delineated with rare skill all the bustle and preparation of a departure. The coach is 'braced' up, the horses are put-to, the guard and his 'helps' are busied in loading luggage on the roof, and stowing parcels in the boot and under the box-seat. Bills are being settled, and farewells said by the passengers, who are booked to travel by the 'stage.' Death is assiduously attending to the loading of the coach, and he is courteously wedging a stout lady through the doorway. It is likely that he will not quit the travellers yet, but will ride, unobserved, a part of the journey, until, perhaps, in the night he will contrive some fatal upset, and his evil whim will be accomplished. Plate 36. _Time, Death, and Eternity._ The song now bursts beyond the bounds of time, And Immortality concludes the rhyme. After tracing Death's farcical pranks through seventy-one plates, in nearly all of which the mischief projected by the arch-foe is crowned with success, the artist has thought proper to abandon Death's triumphs and to show the enemy at a disadvantage. The scene is allegorically set forth in the despair and overthrow of Time, and the banishment of Death before the Everlasting Angel. The Spirit of Eternity is blowing the last trump. Time is vainly tearing out his forelock; his wings are useless; he is cast on his back, the scythe and hourglass broken, amidst the crumbling monuments around him; pyramids and temples are melting away; the monuments raised by vain man are dissolving, and Death has forfeited his fell sovereignty of destruction. The slayer is slain in turn; his crown has fallen into the abyss, his fatal dart is harmless and snapped asunder, and he, abashed and disconcerted, is crouching from his doom, and falling through to the bottomless pit. So much for the pictorial allegory. We have specially dwelt on the illustration which Rowlandson designed to finish the first part of the _Dance of Death_, wherein the spectral tyrant is displayed shorn of his terrors. The artist on occasions could sink the ludicrous and rise to the sublime. The author, as we are inclined to believe, was elevated by the subject brought under his treatment, and, finding the theme congenial to his talents, he exerted himself to bring out its stronger points. In the last picture which concludes the series we are still more impressed with the sense of his fitness for the task. Coombe, when he wrote the concluding verses to this diversified poem, was on the verge of four score; he had fought the battle of life, and found little glory and less profit in the struggle. Nature had endowed him with an agreeable person and sound health, and he was by disposition studious. He had been the idol of an hour, and (rare chance for a scholar) had found a large sum of money at his command, and dissipated sufficient wealth to realise to the full the emptiness of gratifications which depend on mere monetary advantages; he had been taught the worthlessness of fair-weather friends, the hollowness of flatterers, and knew the folly of trusting in the great; he had learned other lessons of life, and could, from his own heart, read many a homily on the deceptiveness of beauty and the quickly withered flowers of passion. He had incessantly pursued happiness through life; he had been rich, courted, cultivated, temperate, and a discriminating judge of most things that are counted desirable in the world; a ripe scholar and a perfect gentleman--if we may believe contemporary accounts--and he found all this led him to disappointment and the confinement of a debtor's prison. When evil tongues hiss forth the foul abuse, When Fortune turns away, and friends prove false, Man's peaceful refuge is the tomb. From the depths of his rich experience he had realised that the harbour of refuge 'from life's frequent storms' is found, _not_-- In the flowery vales where Pleasure sports, Nor where Ambition rears the tottering seat; 'Tis not within the miser's gloomy cave; 'Tis not within the roseate bowers of Love, Nor where the pale lamp lights the studious sage To midnight toil: alas! it is not there. And while we seek in vain amid the great, Or on the gorgeous thrones where monarchs sit, It often may be found in humble cot Where Virtue with the honest peasant dwells. And what is virtue? 'Tis the conscious power Of acting right in spite of every foe That may oppose its base, malicious aim To check the pure designs which it inspires. It is to stem the tide Corruption rolls O'er half the world, to curb the impetuous will Of lawless passion, and, on life's vast stage, To act that noble part which will attain The good man's praise and the applause of Heaven. Yes, virtue, potent virtue, can secure 'Gainst every peril; 'tis a triple shield To him who has it 'gainst the pointed darts Of ev'ry enemy; the hour of death, With all its gloom, gives not a fear to him Who triumphs o'er the grave; he stands secure Amid the ruins of a fallen world. Virtue will listen to the trumpet's sound With holy awe, yet hear it unappall'd, And feels ETERNITY its destin'd sphere: When all the works of man shake to their base, And the world melts away whereon they stood; When TIME'S last agonising hour is come, And DEATH, who from Creation's pregnant hour Has made the world a grave, himself shall die; When man from his long slumber shall awake, And the day breaks that never more shall close; Then Virtue shall its promis'd glory claim, And find it, too, at the o'erflowing source Of Heaven's stupendous and eternal joys. FOOTNOTES: [26] Now known as the Egyptian Hall. [27] _Marcus Flaminius; or, the Life of the Romans_, 1795. 1817. [Illustration: THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.] 1817-1823. _The Vicar of Wakefield, a Tale, by Doctor Goldsmith._ Illustrated with twenty-four designs by Thomas Rowlandson. Etchings dated May 1, 1817. London, published by R. Ackermann, at the Repository of Arts. Republished 1823. Sperate Miseri, Cavete Felices. Frontispiece.--The Vicar of Wakefield, a character eminently calculated to inculcate benevolence, humanity, patience in sufferings, and reliance on Providence. 2. The Social Evening. 3. The Departure for Wakefield. 4. Sophia Rescued from the Water. 5. The Welcome. 6. The Squire's Intrusion. 7. Mr. Burchell's First Visit. 8. The Dance. 9. Fortune-telling. 10. The Vicar's Family on their Road to Church. 11. Hunting the Slipper. 12. The Gross of Green Spectacles. 13. The Vicar Selling his Horse. 14. The Family Picture. 15. The Vicar in company with Strolling Players. 16. The Surprise. 17. The Stage. George Primrose as 'Horatio.' 18. Attendance on a Nobleman. 19. A Connoisseur Mellowing the Tone of a Picture. 20. The Scold, with News of Olivia. 21. The Fair Penitent. 22. Domestic Arrangements in Prison. 23. The Vicar Preaching to the Prisoners. 24. The Wedding. [Illustration: THE FAMILY PICTURE.] _The Family Picture._--'My wife and daughters, happening to return a visit to neighbour Flamborough's, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn by a limner who travelled the country and took likenesses for fifteen shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen march upon us; and notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much, it was resolved that we should have our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged the limner--for what else could I do?--our next deliberation was to show the superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As for our neighbour's family, there were seven of them, and they were drawn with seven oranges, a thing quite out of taste--no variety in life, no composition in the world. We desired to have something in a brighter style; and after many debates at length came to a unanimous resolution of being drawn together in one large historical family piece. This would be cheaper, since one frame would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more genteel, for all families of any taste were now drawn in the same manner. As we did not immediately recollect an historical subject to hit us we were contented each with being drawn as independent historical figures. My wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair. Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side; while I, in my gown and band, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting on a bank of flowers, dressed in a green joseph, richly laced with gold, and a whip in her hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed out with a hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the Squire that he insisted on being put in as one of the family, in the character of Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us all as an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family; nor could we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work; and as he wrought with assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the whole was completed. The piece was large, and it must be owned he did not spare his colours, for which my wife gave him great encomiums. We were all perfectly satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate circumstance had not occurred till the picture was finished, which now struck us with dismay. It was so very large that we had no place in the house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is inconceivable; but certain it is we had been all greatly remiss. The picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped, leaned in a most mortifying manner against the kitchen wall, where the canvas was stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any of the doors, and the jest of all our neighbours. One compared it to Robinson Crusoe's longboat, too large to be removed; another thought it more resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got out, but still more were amazed how it got in.' * * * * * THE DANCE OF LIFE: A POEM. _By the Author of 'Doctor Syntax' (William Coombe)._ ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY-SIX COLOURED ENGRAVINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY R. ACKERMANN, REPOSITORY OF ARTS, 101 STRAND. 8vo. '_Advertisement._--The eight monthly numbers to which this work was limited being completed, it is presented to the public in an accumulated volume. Though an acquaintance has taken place between the artist and the writer, the same principle has in a great degree, if not altogether, predominated in the originality of the designs and attendant illustrations of them as produced the _Tour of Doctor Syntax_ and the _Dance of Death_.' ILLUSTRATIONS. Frontispiece.--_The Dance of Life_; a panoramic scroll, on which Rowlandson's pictures which illustrate the series are represented in miniature. Father Time, with his accessories of scythe, hourglass, and globe, is acting as showman and pointing out the subjects of the work to a group of spectators, whose faces and attitudes are expressive of the admiration and interest which the pictorial history is exciting. Titlepage.--The vignette of a lightly touched and gracefully drawn female dancing figure, with a scarf airily floating from her shoulders. The nymph is encircled by a ring of pretty children, hand in hand, who are dancing round her; while roses are scattered at the feet of the group. 1. _Infancy._--The hero is introduced to the world as an infant. The Dance of Life begins, with all its charms In the fond dandling of the nurse's arms. 2. _Childhood._--The first tutor. The tender nurse's care is now resign'd To the first grave instructor of the mind. 3. _Boyhood._--The public school. The stern preceptor, with his threat'ning nod, Calls in the wise correction of the rod. 4. _Youth._--An undergraduate at Oxford. Wine makes the head to ache; but will the art Of the grave, solemn lecture reach the heart? 5. _Foreign Tour._--Setting forth on his Continental travels. The parting from home. To part with thee, my boy, how great the pain! How great the joy to see thee once again! 6. _Foreign Tour._--Posting in France. 'Tis hop'd, midst foreign scenes some power he'll find To mend his manners and improve his mind. 7. _Foreign Tour._--A scene in the Palais-Royal. He pays his lively court, as 'tis the _ton_, To the fat Princess of the Mille Colonnes. 8. _The Return._--The traveller hurries home on the death of his father. The widow'd mother hastens forth to meet Her son, Sir Henry, at his ancient seat. 9. _The Chase._--A fatal fall; his affianced bride is thrown and killed. The hounds the flying stag pursue; But Dian does the hunting rue. 10. _Fashionable Life._--Plan for new buildings. The architect, &c. At the first step in folly's wanton waste He pulls his mansion down, to show his taste. 11. Coaching on Hounslow Heath. Of four-in-hand he gains the vulgar rage: Wields his long whip, and overturns a stage. 12. The Midnight Masquerade. The mask, that scene of wanton folly, May convert mirth to melancholy. 13. The Billiard-table and its votaries. By gamblers link'd in Folly's noose, Play ill or well, he's sure to lose. 14. The Ring, Newmarket Heath. The victim of the betting-post: His bets as soon as made are lost. 15. A Mistress _à la mode._ For such a wild and placid dear Me pays two thousand pounds a year. 16. The Election: close of the poll: chairing the member. For my own good, and yours, I'm bent, My worthy friends, tow'rds Parliament. 17. Imprisoned for debt, the hero resists the temptations held out by a Jew and a scrivener. In his oppress'd and adverse hour Virtue assumes its former power. 18. A change of circumstances: coming into an unexpected fortune, left the hero by the father of his affianced bride, whose death is shown (plate 9). The wild exuberance of joy May reason's sober power destroy. 19. A social gathering in the new mansion. Ladies and a musical evening. Sweet is the voice whose powers can move And call the vagrant heart to love. 20. The hero selects a wife. The nuptial ceremony. Blest Hymen, whose propitious hour Restores to Virtue all its power. 21. Dragging the lake. Rural sports are better far Than all his former pleasures were. 22. A case of poaching. Sir Henry is sitting as magistrate at Graceful Hall. His wife is pleading for the unfortunate prisoners (poachers). To soothe the rigours of the laws Let beauty plead the culprits' cause. 23. Worshipping on the Sabbath. The Squire in his pew. By piety's due rights 'tis given To hold communion with Heaven. 24. Sir Henry, surrounded by his children and his friends, is tranquilly passing his declining years. Here Virtue views, with smiling pride, The pleasures of her fireside. 1817. _Grotesque Drawing Book; the World in Miniature, consisting of groups of figures for the illustration of landscape scenery._ Forty plates, 8vo. London. 1817. _Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France._ Illustrated with eighteen plates by T. Rowlandson. 8vo. Published by R. Ackermann. (See 1821.) 1817. _World in Miniature._ Containing fifty-eight etchings. 4to. (See 1816.) 1817. _Pleasures of Human Life._ 1818. _January 20, 1818._ _The Last Jig, or Adieu to Old England._ Published by T. Tegg. 1818. _Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork, with his coat buttoned behind._ Designed, etched, and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Republished 1818.--One of the series published by the artist, to the finish, execution, and colouring of which he devoted extra care. The scene pictures a haymaking festivity. Paddy from Cork, hayfork in hand, has literally turned his coat hind part before; he is dancing in company with another swain, who is holding a whisky-jug, and a fellow Patlander, fiddling and capering for very life, beside two buxom lasses, who are flourishing hayrakes and throwing themselves into the most attractive attitudes. Groups suggestive of both rural felicity and a terrific combat in combination are figured in the distance, as the true Patland ideal of finishing a day's pleasure. 1818(?). _Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites._ Designed, etched, and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--The principal figure in the foreground group is a buxom but hardly gentle keeperess of a _knock-'em-down_ stand. The lady, clad in a soldier's old jacket, with ragged skirts and defective hose, is holding in one arm an instalment of sticks--'three throws a penny'--and is demanding her fee, a trifle boisterously, from a smock-clad yokel, who is diving into his short-clothes pocket for the coppers which do not appear to be forthcoming. Other rustics are taking their pastime at the same amusement, and one, in perplexity, is scratching his head. The bustle of a country fair is set forth in the distance; there is the usual display of booths and mountebanks, countrymen on horseback, love-making in carts, stalls, and struggling groups of sightseers. 1818. _The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy._ A Poem, in four cantos, with Plates by Rowlandson, from the Author's designs. By Alfred Burton. Published by W. Simpkin and R. Marshall, Stationers' Court, Ludgate Street. Dulce Bellum Inexpertis. Frontispiece.--Asleep on the Masthead. Leaving Home. 'The Admiral has made it sunset, sir!' Turning in--and out again. Seasick. Sent to hear the dog fish bark. Seized up in the Rigging. Cobbed--Watch! Watch! Crossing the Line. Sheerness Boat. Plymouth Playhouse. Going to Ivy Bridge. In the Grocer's Shop. Johnny and Maria. Mast-headed. 'The Captain's going out of the ship, gentlemen!' 1819. _May 9, 1819._ _A Rough Sketch of the Times, as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett._ Published by T. Tegg (15).--Sir Francis Burdett is shown standing in the centre of the picture, a scarf thrown over his shoulders is marked _Magna Charta_ and _Bills of Rights_; he holds the Genius of _Honour_ and _Integrity_ firmly clasped by the hand, and, pointing to _The Monster of Corruption_, observes: 'Look here upon this picture, and on this, and then judge for yourselves.' The persons of both patriot and monster are mapped out with inscriptions, their several parts being typically labelled: '_The Genius of Honour_ rejoices in a sound mind;' 'An eye ever watchful to the welfare of his fellow-citizens;' 'A tongue that never belied a good heart;' 'An upright breast and an honest heart;' 'A shoulder that never shrinks in trouble;' 'A plain liver and a lover of peace and plenty;' 'Pockets ever open to the necessities of fellow-creatures;' 'A knee to religion;' 'Legs ever steady in his country's cause;' and 'Feet to crush tyranny;' while in his 'Hand of Justice' is displayed a declaration of these principles: 'A staunch supporter of the Bill of Rights; an advocate for a fair representation of the people, and an enemy to bribery and corruption.' The attributes of the corrupt candidate are less flattering. The head of the monster is marked 'Professions and promises;' his nose has 'a scent for Interest;' his huge eye is devoted to Interest, and his mouth to Guile; he bears the 'Collar of Corruption;' 'a cringing soul,' 'a pampered appetite;' 'a rotten borough,' and 'secret service money' mark his trunk; his 'arms of power' end in 'hands of extortion,' which grasp 'pensions, reversions, perquisites of office, and bags of bribery;' he is supported on 'legs of luxury and feet of connivance.' 1819. _Who killed Cock Robin? A Satirical Tragedy, or Hieroglyphic Prophecy on the Manchester Blot!!!_ (Pamphlet.) London: Printed and published by John Cahnac, 8vo., p. 23. Plate of _Manchester Massacre_, by T. Rowlandson. 1819. _Female Intrepidity, or the Heroic Maiden._ (Chap-book) With a folding frontispiece by T. Rowlandson. 1820. 1820 (about). _Chemical Lectures._ Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.--Sir Humphrey Davy is exhibiting experiments at the Royal Institution before a highly respectable audience of visitors and members of both sexes. An antiquated fogey, who has evidently no opinion of the brilliant young lecturer, is snarling at the demonstrations. A treatise of the period, _Accum's Lectures_, is shown in his coat-pocket. 1820. _Rowlandson's Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders, intended as a companion to the New Picture of London. Consisting of fifty-four plates, neatly coloured._ Printed for Samuel Leigh, 18 Strand, London. '_Advertisement._--The British public must be already acquainted with numerous productions from the inimitable pencil of Mr. Rowlandson, who has particularly distinguished himself in this department. 'There is so much truth and genuine feeling in his delineations of human character, that no one can inspect the present collection without admiring his masterly style of drawing and admitting his just claim to originality. 'The great variety of countenance, expression and situation, evince an active and lively feeling, which he has so happily infused into the drawings, as to divest them of that broad caricature which is too conspicuous in the works of those artists who have followed his manner. Indeed, we may venture to assert that, since the time of Hogarth, no artist has appeared in this country who could be considered his superior, or even his equal.' Frontispiece.--Menagerie. A Beef-eater exhibiting the Royal Wild Beast Show at the Tower. Drayman. Chairs to Mend. Cherries. Wine Cooper. Cucumbers. Singing Birds. A Peep at the Comet. Grinder. Bagpipes. Roasted Apples. Distressed Sailors. Sweeps. Matches. Coalheavers. Oysters. Cooper. Sweet Lavender. Last Dying Speech. Old Clothes. Curds and Whey. 'Pray remember the poor Sweeper.' Butcher. Itinerant Musicians. Door Mats. Earthenware. Raree Show. Images. 'All Hot.' Strawberries. Dog's Meat. Rhubarb. Baker. Tinker. Flounders. Baskets. Milk. Hot Cross Buns. Walnuts to Pickle. Hackney Coachman. 'Buy my sweet Roses.' Poodles. Firemen. Ballad Singer. Shoeblack. Placard. (Lottery Prizes.) 'Past One o'clock' (Watchman). Postman. _Billet-doux._ Bandboxes. Great News. Saloop. (Stall of Saloop-tea seller.) 1820. _The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation._ Illustrated with twenty-four plates by T. Rowlandson. Royal 8vo. Published by R. Ackermann, Repository of Arts. (See description of _Doctor Syntax's Three Tours_, 1812.) 1821. _May, 1821._ _A Smoky House and a Scolding Wife._ Published at 22 Marylebone Street, Portland Chapel.--A suffering mortal is seated at an unfurnished dinner-table; the man's hands are clasped, his brows are knit, and his lips tightly closed, in an effort to maintain his patience and his temper under two exasperating provocatives to violence. Placed before the bent-down martyr to domestic infirmities is a phantom bone of mutton; presumably the husband has taken exception both to the insufficiency of the joint and the superabundance of smoke, which is eddying round in volumes, and is filling the apartment with dense blackness; while his better half, sailing like a fury out of the gloom, is an object to inspire terror in the boldest heart, and the stings of the sharp tongue are apparently even more intimidating than her nails or her knuckles, all of which weapons of offence are enlisted against her pitiable helpmate. 1821. _Tricks on the Turf, or Settling how to Lose a Race._ Published by T. Rowlandson.--A scene on a racecourse; the race-horses, led round to be saddled, are seen in the background. A smart young jockey, with his saddle strapped across his own back, and whip in hand, in readiness to begin the race, is receiving the parting instructions of a wily old turfite, who wears a cocked hat, a pigtail, a triple-caped coat, top-boots and spurs. This shrewd trickster is evidently giving his rider certain secret instructions which he would probably not like to hear published abroad on his own authority. The subject of this satire, together with the scandals about the Prince of Wales's horse _Escape_ and his jockey, prove that even in the early days of the Turf its reputation was not immaculate nor its patrons above suspicion. 1821. _Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France shortly before the Revolution, embellished with seventeen coloured engravings from designs by T. Rowlandson, Esq._ London: Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 'We travellers are in very hard circumstances. If we say nothing but what has been said before us, we are dull and have observed nothing. If we tell anything new, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantic.'--_Lady M. W. Montague's Letters._ Frontispiece.--The Tribunal at Avignon. _Table d'hôte._ Searched by Douaniers on the French Frontiers. Consulting the Prophet. The Prophet discovering himself and exposing the deception. The Arrival in Paris. Offers of services. Liberality to infirm Beggars on leaving Yvri. Rural Happiness at Caverac. Pleasures of a _poste aux Anes_. The Embrace. At Avignon. First Sight of Clara. At the Tomb of Laura. Auction of Relics at Avignon. A Prisoner at Avignon. Mistakes at Cavaillon. A Tragic Story at Avignon. The Sacred Page displayed. The Inn at Marseilles. _The Douaniers._--'No native of the German side of the Rhine can pass from the territory of Baden to that of France without carrying along with him a certain respect for his country, which he will act wisely to conceal, like any other contraband commodity. This precaution I impressed upon myself as soon as the four horses, whose neighing seemed to express the same feeling, were put to the carriage at the last post-station at Kehl. 'This little place, situated partly on one, and partly on the other side of the Rhine, possesses an equivocal sort of character, which, like the modest, innocent look of a frail fair one, is of great advantage in the way of its trade. 'The reflections on that extraordinary genius Voltaire, whom the mercantile spirit of Beaumarchais contrived to banish to this intermediate spot between Germany and France--excited as I passed the extensive printing office established here for promoting the circulation of his works--were too multifarious for the shortest of all stages; for the life of this extraordinary mortal would afford abundant matter for contemplation during a tour round the globe, without being even then exhausted. My mind standing before him, like a dwarf before a colossus, was about to measure his greatness, when I was under the disagreeable necessity of turning the looks of my admiration another way, in order to cast them with contempt upon the most miserable of all the _employés_ of the King, who waited my arrival at the barriers of Strasburg. The postilion seemed to be thinking no more about them than myself, but the cry of "Stop, scoundrel!" from the throats of ten of these varlets suddenly arrested the smart trot at which he was about to pass them. I was instantly surrounded by the rascals, who enquired what I would give to save my baggage from examination. "Nothing! nothing!" cried I, in a tone that would have scared the nymphs of the Rhine. "Nothing?" re-bellowed the incorruptible agents of the Custom House. "Nothing!" I reiterated. "I never make bargains with such fellows." With a profusion of curses and oaths they fell to work upon my baggage, which they ransacked with all the avidity of rats that have got scent of a savoury piece of bacon. [Illustration: SEARCHED BY DOUANIERS ON THE FRENCH FRONTIERS.] 'Indeed, a small bribe would have prevented all this, but I was too much out of temper to submit to give alms to these beggars who had so rudely disturbed my meditations; for this reason my obstinacy--why should I not call the child by its right name?--had received a severe reproof.' 1821. _Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la Recherche du Pittoresque et Romantique._ 28 Illustrations drawn on stone (after the designs of Rowlandson) by Malapeau. Lith. de G. Engelmann. Paris. (See description of _The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax_, 1812.) 1822. 1822. _The History of Johnny Quæ Genus; the little Foundling of the late Doctor Syntax. A poem by the author of the Three Tours_ (William Combe). Embellished with twenty-four coloured engravings by T. Rowlandson. 8vo. London: Published by R. Ackermann, at the Repository of Arts. What various views of our uncertain state These playful, unassuming rhymes relate!--ANON. Introduction to the history of _Quæ Genus_.--'The favour which has been bestowed on the different tours of Doctor Syntax has encouraged the writer of them to give a "History of the Foundling," who has been thought an interesting object in the latter of those volumes, and it is written in the same style and manner, with a view to connect it with them. 'This child of chance, it is presumed, is led through a track of life not unsuited to the peculiarity of his condition and character, while its varieties, as in the former works, are represented by the pencil of Mr. Rowlandson with its accustomed characteristic felicity. 'The idea of an English _Gil Blas_ predominated through the whole of this volume, which must be considered as fortunate in no common degree, if its readers, in the course of their perusal, should be disposed to acknowledge even a remote similitude to the incomparable works of Le Sage. 'THE AUTHOR. '_Johnny Quæ Genus!_ What a name To offer to the voice of Fame! * * * * * But howsoe'er the thing we view, Our little Johnny's title's new: Or for the child, or for the man, In an old phrase, 'tis _spick_ and _span_. Besides, as most folks do agree, To find a charm in novelty, 'Tis the first time that grammar rule, Which makes boys tremble when at school, Did with the name an union crave Which at the font a sponsor gave. But whether 'twas in hum'rous mood Or by some classic whim pursued, Or as, in Eton's Grammar known, It bore relation to his own, Syntax, it was at Whitsuntide, And a short time before he died, In pleasant humour, after dinner, Surnam'd, in wine, the little sinner. And thus, amid the table's roar, Gave him, from good old Lilly's store, A name which none e'er had before.' This quotation from the opening of Combe's Hudibrastic narrative will account for the originality of the hero's eccentric title. Rowlandson's illustrations are as follows:-- _Quæ Genus_ on his Journey to London. " in search of Service. " relating his History to Sir Jeffery. " at Oxford. " Conflict with Lawyer Gripeall. " with the Sheep-shearers. " assisting a Traveller. " in the Sports of the Kitchen. " in the Service of Sir Jeffery Gourmand. " with a Quack Doctor. " with a Spendthrift. " attending on a Sporting Finale. " in the Service of a Miser. " and the Money Lenders. " officiating at a Gaming-table. " with a Portrait Painter. " gives a grand party. " interrupts a _tête-à-tête_. " committed, with a riotous dancing party, to the Watchhouse. " engaged with jovial friends, or who Sings best. The party breaking up, and _Quæ Genus_ breaking down. _Quæ Genus_ turned out of a House which he mistakes for his own. " and Creditors. " discovers his Father. 1822. _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature._ A View near Richmond. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. A View near Newport, Isle of Wight. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. Temple at Strawberry Hill. Rowlandson del., 1822. Stradler aquatinta. Stamford, Lincolnshire. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. Taunton Vale, Somersetshire. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. The Seat of M. Mitchell Esq., Hengar, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. West Loo, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Village of St. Udy, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. A view in Devonshire. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. View near Bridport, Dorsetshire. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Fowey, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. View on the River Camel, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. A View in Camelford, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. A Cottage in the Duchy of Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stradler aquatinta. View at Blisland, near Bodmin, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Clearing a Wreck on the north coast of Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Rouler Moor, Cornwall. Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. 1822. _The Third Tour of Doctor Syntax. In Search of a Wife._ Royal 8vo., with 25 Illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann. (See description of _Doctor Syntax's Three Tours_, 1812.) 1822. _Die Reise des Doktor Syntax, um das Malerische aufzusuchen. Ein Gedicht frei aus dem Englischen ins Deutsche übertragen._ Lith. v. F. E. Rademacher, Berlin. (See description of _The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax_, 1812.) 1822. _Crimes of the Clergy._ 8vo. Two plates by Thomas Rowlandson. 1823. _June 13, 1823._ _Not at Home, or a Disappointed Dinner-hunter._ Published by John Fairburn. Broadway, Ludgate Hill.--The dinner-hunter, evidently a well-to-do but miserly person, to whom avarice dictates the pursuit of the victuals of his acquaintances, has called at the well-appointed house of a friend at the exact dinner-hour, since a boy from an adjacent public-house is handing in the beer; but the footman, who recognises the visitor's object, is prepared with the chilling information, 'Not at home.' On the opposite side of the street is represented an _à la mode_ beef shop, to which sundry stout diners are resorting. The execution of this plate is above the average, the etching being worked out with both care and spirit. A companion print, executed with similar finish, was issued by the same publisher. _June 19, 1823._ _An Old Poacher Caught in a Snare._--The old poacher has evidently come on a dangerous quest, and is fairly trapped. The object of his snares, a handsome and elegantly-drawn lady, is thrusting the old sinner, suddenly disturbed by the unexpected return of the husband, into the embrasure of the fireplace, and endeavouring to conceal the marauder with the board which was used to close the chimneypiece. The injured spouse has evidently been out hunting, and has purposely returned on a more particular quest; whip in hand, he is bursting into the room. The hat and stick of the hoary poacher are thrown to the ground, and the hunter's hounds are tearing in on a good scent which promises fitting retribution to be dealt on the head of the detected evil-doer. 1823. _Hot Goose, Cabbage, and Cucumbers._ _September 18, 1823._ _The Chance-seller of the Exchequer Putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries._ Published by Tom Brown, Peter Street, Westminster.--The Chancellor of the Exchequer is literally extinguishing Fortune, who is represented as a comely and youthful winged female holding a well-filled purse in one hand and a lottery prize for 2,000_l._ in the other. At her feet are caskets of gems and jewels; she is seated on well-filled sacks; behind her is the wheel of fortune. A crowd of Bluecoat Boys are urging their entreaties. 'Come, madam,' cries the Chancellor, 'put on your nightcap.' A chorus of cries of disappointment proceeds from a mob of persons in front. One agonised lady of elegant exterior is praying: 'Stop; let me get a prize first.' A laundress, pointing to the washing-tub, cries, 'Let her alone; take off the soap tax.' 'Shut up the subscription houses,' urges another. A cobbler shouts, 'Give us a lottery, and no leather tax;' another cries out, 'No tax on tallow,' and a parson denounces horse-racing. On the column behind Madame Fortune suggestive placards are pasted: 'Races, King's Cup,' 'Reform Parliament, Public Morals,' and '_Fudge: a Farce_.' Various Ministerial and Parliamentary critics are discussing the new measure. One is saying, 'Little Van [Vansittart] knew better than to abolish a voluntary tax;' another is pointing out, 'He's only a young Chancellor;' while a third, alluding to the popular outcry in relation to existing imposts, remarks, 'Hear, hear! I knew they'd grumble.' A less disinterested party is taking the opportunity to secure prize bags, gold-dust 'pickings and fillings' from the upset of Fortune's cornucopia; he cries, 'Persevere, and the saints shall praise you.' 1823. _Third Tour of Doctor Syntax._ Royal 8vo. 1823. _The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax._ Pocket edition, 3 vols. 16mo. (See description of _The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax_, 1812.) 1823. _Oliver Goldsmith. The Vicar of Wakefield._ 8vo. Illustrated with 24 plates by Thomas Rowlandson. (See 1817.) 1823. _C. M. Westmacott. The Spirit of the Public Journals for the years 1823-4-5._ 3 vols. 8vo. (See 1825.) 1823. _The Toothache, or Torment and Torture._--The village Jack-of-all-trades, a very imposing, grave, and learned professor in appearance, is drawn in the exercise of one branch of his multifarious vocations. A stout wench has called in to have an obstinate grinder dragged out of her head; '_torment and torture_' are mild terms for the operation. The patient is seated in the chair of agony. Factotum's assistant, a lad whose offices seem as diversified as those of his master, has brought an elegant pair of horse-pliers for the delicate process of extraction. A dog is setting up a sympathetic howl; this animal is one of the grotesque nondescripts which Rowlandson delighted to depict after his own theories, careless whether literal critics, unfamiliar with his admirable studies after nature, took upon themselves to assert that he could not master the drawing of animals. From the agonised expression which the artist has succeeded in throwing into the canine features it would appear as if Toby was also a patient attending the dentist's tender offices in his turn. An old country dame who is also distracted with a raging molar is waiting without. One branch of our friend's business is obviously flourishing. Although the rustic practitioner does not display his diploma from the College of Surgeons, or his licence to kill by authority, he has nailed up a certificate with which, it is probable, he is equally satisfied: '_Barnaby Factotum; Draws Teeth, Bleeds and Shaves; Wigs made here; also Sausages. Wash Balls, Black Puddings, Scotch Pills, Powder for the Itch, Red Herrings, Breeches Balls, and Small Beer by the Maker. 'In Utrumque Paratus.'_ There is an air of verisimilitude about this advertisement which reads like an actual transcript. [Illustration: THE TOOTHACHE, OR TORMENT AND TORTURE.] 1825. 1825. _Bernard Blackmantle. The Spirit of the Public Journals for the Year 1824. With Explanatory Notes by C. M. Westmacott._ With illustrations on wood by T. Rowlandson, R. and G. Cruikshank, Lane, and Findlay. London: Published by Sherwood, Jones, & Co., Paternoster Row. _Advertisement._--In the preliminary notice the editor, Mr. Westmacott, specially alludes to the assistance given by our artist: 'It is with some degree of pride the editor requests his reader's examination of the illustrations to this volume, combining as they do specimens of the first graphic humour of the time; not the least admirable of which are eleven original designs by the veteran Rowlandson, whose facetious pencil appears to acquire additional richness with his lengthened years. For these the editor is more indebted to _personal friendship_ than _motives of interest_, and they are therefore in his estimation doubly valuable.' _Designs by T. Rowlandson._ Vignette to title.--A group of little Cupids, harnessed, and drawing a car of classic shape, loaded with contributions from the newspapers-- The choicest fancies, grave and gay, They register'd from day to day. Mrs. Ramsbottom in the Packet. ('Mrs. Ramsbottom's Tour,' _John Bull_.) Ill-requited Love, or Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum. ('Sketches at Bow Street,' _Herald_.) Two at a Time, or Irish Accidents. ('Sketches at Bow Street,' _Bell's Life in London_.) The Petticoat Whip, or a Lift for Love. ('Sketches at Bow Street,' _Bell's Life in London_.) The Charley's Mistake, or Royalty Doubly Endangered. (_Bell's Life in London._) Teddy the Tailor, or a Troublesome Customer. ('Sketches at Bow Street,' _Bell's Life in London_.) The Man-of-War's Man, or Sketches of Society. ('Greenwich Hospital,' _Literary Gazette_.) The Mayor of Portsmouth and the Horse Witness. The Bold Dragoon, or the Adventure of my Grandfather. ('Tales of a Traveller,' _News of Literature and Fashion_.) Sporting Extraordinary, or Cockney Comicalities. By Charley Eastup. (_Annals of Sporting and Fashion._) [Illustration: R.--A.--YS OF GENIUS REFLECTING ON THE TRUE LINE OF BEAUTY] 1825. _Bernard Blackmantle_ (Charles Molloy Westmacott). _The English Spy._ The illustrations designed by Robert Cruikshank. In two volumes. London, 8vo. Plate 32. _R.--A.--ys of Genius Reflecting on the True Line of Beauty at the Life Academy, Somerset House._ By Thomas Rowlandson.--This plate, which is dated June 1, 1824 (published by Sherwood & Jones), was not, we fancy, designed expressly for the _English Spy_, as we cannot fail to recognise it as an adaptation of a very spirited caricature by the artist belonging to a considerably earlier period, and described as _Drawing from the Nude_. In the original the students are dressed in the costume of some forty years anterior to 1824; their quainter persons are delineated with more grotesque spirit and boldness of treatment. Be this as it may, whether Rowlandson has obliged his friend Westmacott by adding new figures, or whether the original design has been otherwise supplemented with later portraits, the female model remains much as she is found in the larger drawing. The artists, who are working from the life in this more modern version, are chiefly Royal Academicians, as far as the privileged circle is concerned, and the portraits are studied with care. M. A. Shee is seated on the ground; one of the Landseers is above him; the person of Benjamin West, arrayed in decorous black, with his knee-breeches, silk stockings, and laced frill, bears a resemblance to a Court physician; Westmacott, Jones, Chantrey, and half a dozen other artists, evident likenesses, are portrayed with a certain attention to securing resemblance. In the right-hand corner, standing at an easel, is the figure of B. R. Haydon; and seated between this unfortunate artist and the fair model is another student, on whose drawing-board are the initials 'C. W.,' which may be intended as a complimentary introduction of the person of Charles Westmacott, the author of the publication in question. This plate, which is a highly interesting addition to Blackmantle's _English Spy_, is the only full-page illustration due to the caricaturist; and Mr. William Bates, B.A., commenting on this contribution in an interesting sketch of Rowlandson's works, pronounces it decisively 'the best plate in the work.' The first volume contains numerous vignettes on wood, which the index describes as being 'from original designs by Cruikshank, Rowlandson, Gillray, and Finlay, engraved by Bonner and Hughes.' These engravings are neither signed nor ascribed to the respective designers mentioned in the index; but, as far as we can trace, very little is offered of Rowlandson's beyond the advertisement of his name. 1831. THE HUMOURIST. A COMPANION FOR THE CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE. BY W. H. HARRISON. _Embellished by Fifty Engravings, exclusive of numerous Vignettes from Designs by_ THE LATE THOMAS ROWLANDSON. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY R. ACKERMANN, 96 STRAND; AND SOLD BY R. ACKERMANN, JUN., 191 REGENT STREET, 1831. The author, in his preface, thus refers to the circumstances under which these illustrations by a deceased artist have been imported into an annual:-- 'Of the embellishments to which, after the manner of annuals in general, the matter has been adapted, it will be a sufficient recommendation to state that the designs have been carefully selected from a great variety of original drawings by the late Mr. Rowlandson, the humour of whose pencil has been long universally acknowledged, and no expense has been spared to render the engravings worthy of the subjects.' The principal illustrations are as follows:-- Frontispiece. _The Humourist and her Crew._--The model of a ship, drawn by a donkey, followed by an escort of seamen, who have severally lost a leg in the service of their country; they are singing lustily, and appealing to the charitably inclined. Vignette. _The Doctors Puzzled._--A circle of grave practitioners. " " " A learned consultation. " Death pounding a mortar, as the apothecary's assistant. ('Great allowance to dealers in quack medicines.') This subject occurs in the _Dance of Death_ (1814). I have a secret art to cure Each malady which men endure. _Uncle Timothy._--A fat equestrian trying to mount a restive steed. Vignette. Umbrella flirtations on horseback. _The March of Intellect._--A bibliophilist doctor rummaging a bookstall. _The Man of Business._--A grave curmudgeon turning his back on the beguilements of certain pretty oyster-wenches at their stall. _The Rivals._--A scene outside the premises of Dorothy Dump, clear-starcher, and the box of a tailor. The knight of the thimble has thrust his head out of his narrow window, while he listens in consternation to the railings of the elderly clear-starcher, who is jealously disputing the right of a young and buxomly-developed fair to the attentions of the 'snip' their neighbour. _An Enemy bearing down: Hope in the distance._--An enraged bull is throwing various rural pedestrians into commotion. A stout lady is endeavouring to escape over a stile; a one-legged veteran is hurrying her movements, as his own position is becoming precarious; and a young damsel is left sprawling on the grass; meanwhile the infuriated brute is receiving a check from a dog, which he is endeavouring to toss. _Too Hot and too Late._--Several stout Sunday excursionists, at various distances apart, are toiling up a hill in the broiling midday sun to reach a suburban tavern, where is held, as was the custom at that period, an ordinary on holidays for the benefit of Cockney travellers. A stout pedestrian, mopping his forehead, and followed by his panting dog, who takes after his master in obesity, is at the bottom of the hill; the pair are evidently epicures, and the prospect of the ascent with the probability of arriving only to find the viands swept away by the eager appetites of earlier arrivals is evidently filling their minds with dread. _Fire and Water._--A riverside alehouse; customers on benches, indulging in pots and pipes. A waterman, who is probably indebted to the alewife, is receiving a warm reception on the ground of unliquidated scores of long standing which he has attempted to increase. _Steering._--An old admiral, driving his wife in a curricle, has some difficulty in restraining the skittishness of a pair of badly-trained steeds, whose eccentric career is threatening the whole concern with annihilation. _Bar Practice._--Interior of a tavern, guests at tables; in the front of the picture is the saloon; a showy counter-maid is compounding a bowl of punch for a brace of customers, a military and a sporting buck, who are leaning over the bar and exchanging pleasantries with the landlady. _Getting Cash for Notes._--A blind Scotch bagpiper, going his rounds of the country, is passing a cottage; certain charitable damsels, who are clustered about the portal are acknowledging the piper's notes with coppers. _A Timekeeper._--A Doctor of Music, in his robes, is beating time with a roll of music, and conducting a mixed choir of girls and lads; all the members of the party are evidently bawling their utmost and straining their tuneful throats. _The Italian Scribe. An out-of-doors Amanuensis._--A similar subject to that represented in the _Letters from Italy_, republished as _Naples and the Campagna Felice_ (1809-13). (See _The Letter Writer_, 1815.) _Love in a Box._--A Hebrew gentleman, evidently a Shylock, is gravely trudging along the ways of some Continental city--it may be Venice--with a bunch of keys in his hand; three picturesque and Masaniello-like looking porters are in his train, one is bearing a trunk, and two are carrying, suspended on a pole, a large square receptacle, the contents of which are implied to be of a romantic nature. _The Pleasures of Solitude._--An old gourmand is solacing his solitary state of dining by an excess of creature-comforts; his servants are bringing in fresh courses to add to a selection of dishes already amply sufficient for the needs of an individual, and his butler is supplying him with wine on an excessive scale. _Rich and Poor._--A pensioner, minus a leg, and otherwise under the 'slings of adverse fortune,' has called to solicit some trifling assistance from a wealthy sybarite; the poor man's exertions in the representation of his case seem thrown away, as the person solicited is so deaf to his eloquence that, even with the assistance of a trumpet, he fails to hear the appeal of the suitor. _Village Politicians._--The wiseheads of the hamlet are portentously discussing the contents of a news sheet in the vicinity of the sign of the 'Bugle Horn.' _A Disciplinarian._--A Zantippe of a wife, with a flood of invective, is driving her cowed husband before her, whose advance is further accelerated by the liberal exercise of a stout cudgel, which is raining strokes on the bent back of the unmanned and overawed victim. _An Admirer._--A comely maiden, standing with her pitcher beside a pump, is asking assistance to raise her load of an idiotic rustic dandy, who is staring and grinning his imbecile admiration with a face marvellously well fitted to fill a horse-collar, but who does not otherwise respond to the girl's request. _The Cow Doctor._--A consultation over the condition of a suffering cow. _Taking a Horse to Water._--In this case, it rather seems, the steeds are taking their riders there and leaving them--soused in the brook. _Lost and Won._--A gaily-apparelled nymph is leaning over the palings of a waterside landing-stage. A waterman is looking on in dudgeon; he is evidently the 'loser;' whilst the fickle fair is making tender demonstrations in favour of a dashing young soldier, whose uniform and martial trim have evidently won the changeable lady's heart. _A Man of Colour._--At the portico of a villa stands the black butler, who is emptying a plateful of victuals into the apron of a comely female tramp, with a child slung on her back; the _darkie_ is evidently moved by the attractions of the gipsy, since his face expresses the most unqualified admiration for her personal allurements. _Civic Enjoyments._--A dinner party assembled in a Guildhall. The health of the entertainer is being uproariously received as a 'standing toast' with full-charged bumpers. _A Siege._--A highly genteel, youthful, and elegantly clad lady--whether maid or widow it is difficult to determine--is surrounded by a crowd of suitors, recruited from pretty nearly all the professions, and of all ages and sizes. The object of this profuse idolatry, perfectly unmoved, is waving off her too presumptuous assailants, whose assiduities interfere with her comfort. _Recruiting._--A party of soldiers on ''listing' service in a country town have secured certain volunteers. One of the new recruits, a sprightly damsel, is creating no little consternation in the breasts of the villagers by joining the troopers' march; a cobbler and a tailor, armed with the implements of their trade, are offering some show of resistance to the abduction of this Helen by a smart young Paris 'in the line;' but these deserted swains are kept at a respectful distance by the bayonet of the gay Lothario's comrade. _Knowledge of the World._--A village pedagogue is instructing his pupils in that elaborate branch of fashionable education (according to school prospectuses at the beginning of the century), 'the use of the globes.' Certain mischievous urchins are taking advantage of the preceptor's preoccupation to insert quill pens into the 'Busby' wig of the learned Doctor. _Modern Antiquities._--A variation of the larger engraving on this subject published (by Tegg) under the same title. _A Man of Taste._--A fat old voluptuary, in a 'nautical rig,' in person not unlike (and probably expressly designed for) the convivial and yachting alderman, Sir William Curtis, is critically inspecting through his eyeglass a small selection of shellfish held out for his gratification by a pretty shrimper-maid of pronounced personal graces. _Looking a Broadside._--A stout party of the old school, of great breadth and solidity, is looking daggers at a dandified fop of the period, a mere scarecrow of a figure, who is 'quizzing' the substantial piece of antiquity through a spyglass. The indignation of the old boy is barely appeased by the soothing caresses of a tender and pretty maiden who is clinging to the incensed veteran. _Credulity._--A fashionable, elegant, and good-looking lady is seated at her breakfast-table, while her maid is arranging the apartment. A messenger or letter-carrier has just brought a _billet-doux_, which the confiding beauty is eagerly perusing. _Indecision._--An obese prebendary, his gouty limb supported on cushions, is in all the perplexities of _embarras de choix_; one maiden is bringing in poultry, as appropriate to the day's dinner, shortly to follow in due course; and a fish-girl has offered an equally attractive choice of fish. The arrival of these luxuries and the necessity of selecting between them is vexing the soul of the good man. _Spoiling a Cloak and Making a Fortune._--Another version of the traditional episode of the gallant Raleigh laying down his mantle at the feet of his sovereign lady Queen Elizabeth to bridge over an undesirable crossing. _A Military Salute._--A gallant officer engaged in amorous dalliance with a tender-hearted fair, who is leaning out of a cottage window to receive the courtesies of the dashing warrior. Another version of _Kissing for Love, or Captain Careless Shot Flying by a Girl of Fifteen, who unexpectedly popped her Head out of a Casement_ (May 1810). _A Bagman._--A tired commercial traveller, cloaked, booted, and spurred, is alighting at the 'Woolpack;' his horse is taken to the stable; his saddle-bag is under his arm; and the buxom and broadly-expanded hostess of the inn is standing at the portal to bid the weary pilgrim welcome. _Obtaining the Countenance of the Minister._--An Italian itinerant vendor of 'images' is offering a citizen the chance of purchasing the head of the Government on easy terms, as far as his plaster bust is concerned. _Training._--A jockey, with his saddle strapped on his back, ready to mount for the race, is receiving the final and special instructions of his patron, a venerable and evidently deep file, well versed in the iniquities of the turf, whose face wears an expression of experienced and long-trained cunning. Another version of _Tricks of the Turf, or Settling how to Lose a Race_ (1821). _An Exhibition._--The fashionable attendants at a gallery of pictures. All the spectators are lost in wonder and admiration at the collection of paintings. The figure of the Duke of Gloucester is 'taken off,' with that of other visitors. A partial transcript of the _Portrait Painters Gallery.--Adventures of Johnnie Quæ Genus_. _A Banquet._--Three _convives_ are enjoying their soup, seated in a sort of supper-box; the French _chef_ is prominently shown before his cooking-range, busied in the compounding of some extensive _pot au feu_. _The Ratcatcher._--As the title expresses, the figure of a professional ratcatcher, with a cage full of prisoners, which he is exhibiting to a venerable couple--probably his employers; his dogs are excited at the prospect of the sport. Another version of Rowlandson's _London Characters_. _A Court Day._--A small rendering of _A Levée at St. James's Palace_. The Beef-eaters are on duty, and crowds of courtiers and distinguished representatives, clerical, military, diplomatic, civil, foreign, &c., are proceeding through the reception-room for the privilege of making their bow to royalty. _A Dark Prospect._--A master-sweeper and his lad are seated, on their soot-bags, by the can of a pretty and picturesquely-attired dairymaid, who has supplied the dark customers with cups of 'clean milk from the cow.' _Symptoms of a Dinner._--A meeting of dignified prelates of the Church; amongst the company are certain bigwigs, bishops, who are received with flattering deference by the lower clergy. Two eager members of the cloth, more set on the serious gratifications of a Convocation festival than the empty ceremonial courtesies of the hour, are examining a sun-dial in the foreground and comparing it with their watches, in expectation of dinner-time. _The Studio._--A painter, in Court costume, is daubing away boldly at his picture, surrounded at a respectful distance by a circle of _dilettanti_ connoisseurs, all of whom sport spectacles or eyeglasses; these critical spectators are engaged in cold contemplation of the work before them. _Vignette._--A second group of _cognoscenti_, whose faces in this case express more interest and admiration, and justly so, since the work before them appeals to their tenderest susceptibilities; it is one they can all appreciate--a lively turtle, ready to be converted into real soup. A number of clergymen are following the lead of their bishop, who, excellent man, is evidently longing to bless the good things which beneficent Nature has here provided for the faithful. _Hydrophobia: the Church in Danger._--A pastor is running his hardest, pursued by a dog, which we are to suppose is suffering from _rabies_; the venerable prelate is doing his best to keep in advance of his pursuer, who in turn is followed by a _possé_ of eager philanthropists, armed with pitchforks, flails, spits, pokers, choppers, shovels, and even pistols and guns, which are being discharged ineffectually, as the dog is managing to keep ahead of his would-be executioners. _The Way to Fill a Wherry._--A party, including the fair, have secured their places in a wherry at the riverside; the waterman is taking in one more customer before starting, an elephantine and venerable gentleman, whose advent has filled the occupants of the bark with alarm, the aquatic party evidently anticipating that they will be swamped at the very least by the ponderous weight of the last comer, who is vainly trying to find a seat in the boat without capsizing it. _A View of the Coast._--A village inn, with a blind fiddler and his daughter stationed upon the green outside; almost identical with the subject published by Ackermann in Rowlandson's _World in Miniature_ (see April 1, 1816). _Operatives._--The title of this plate goes by contraries. _Inoperatives_ should be the description. A pair of soakers are sunk in heavy slumber over the table of the taproom; a brace of industrious working-men, whose ambitions in the direction of exertion are limited to 'raising their elbows,' 'tilting measures,' 'reducing the liquid contents of receptacles for intoxicants,' and similar performances of an anti-temperance order. _Home, Sweet Home._--A drunken convivialist is, pipe in hand, unconsciously approaching the spot whose praises he is tipsily chaunting, quite unprepared for the reception that is awaiting his roystering at the hands of his outraged and furiously indignant wife, who is anticipating his arrival with a cane prudently provided in advance for further arguments upon the _douceurs_ of his rooftree. The last print in Volume I. of _The Humourist_ is a vignette representing a bench of fox-hunting justices, who have gone fast asleep in their respective armchairs, their legs on the table; bottles and bowls strewing the floor, and their dogs, scattered around, sunk in sleep as heavy as that indulged in by their masters. A transcript of the plate _Johnny Quæ Genus Attending on a Sporting Finale--Adventures of Johnny Quæ Genus_ (1832). The illustrations to Volume II. of _The Humourist_ are supplied by another hand. It does not contain any further rendering of subjects after Rowlandson. CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF SUBJECTS SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CARICATURES, ENGRAVED BY OR AFTER THOMAS ROWLANDSON. _WITH HIS CONTRIBUTIONS TO BOOK ILLUSTRATION IN THE ORDER OF PUBLICATION._ SUMMARY OF ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES. 1774. June 8. A Rotation Office. Pub. by H. Humphrey, Bond St. " The Village Doctor. Do. 1780. Mar. Special Pleading. Pub. by A. McKenzie, 101 Berwick Street, Soho. July 18. The School of Eloquence. Probably designed by Rowlandson, and badly etched by some one unknown. Pub. by Archibald Robertson, Savile Passage. Scene at Streatham. Bozzi and Piozzi. Sept. 1. Italian Affectation. (Real characters.) Pub. by T. Rowlandson and J. Jones, at 103 Wardour Street, Soho. How happy could I be with either Were t'other dear charmer away.--_Brookes._ 18. Sir Samuel House. Do. Do. Do. Nov. 13. Naval Triumph, or Favours Conferred. 1781. June 30. The Power of Reflection. I. Harris, Sweeting's Alley, Cornhill. Oct. 28. E O, or the Fashionable Vowels. Nov. 27. Brothers of the Whip. A. Grant del. 27. Charity Covereth a Multitude of Sins. H. Humphrey, 18 New Bond Street. Dec. The State Watchman Discovered by the Genius of Britain Studying Plans for the Reduction of America. (N.D.) Luxury. (N.D.) Bob Derry of Newmarket. 1783. Feb. 11. Long Sermons and Long Stories are apt to Lull the Senses. Pub. by W. Humphrey. Oct. 17. Amputation. Republished. (See 1793.) (N.D.) The Rhedarium. (1783?) (N.D.) Interior of a Clockmaker's Shop. (1783?) The Discovery. (Political.) Dec. 22. Great Cry and Little Wool. The Times. Regency of the Prince. Scene in a farce called the Quaker. Two New Slides for the State Magic Lantern. 1784. Jan. 1. The Pit of Acheron, or the Birth of the Plagues of England. 4. The Fall of Dagon, or Rare News for Leadenhall Street. 7. The Loves of the Fox and the Badger, or the Coalition Wedding. 19. His Highness the Protector. 23. The Times, or a View of the Old House in Little Britain. 24. A Sketch from Nature. Feb. Long Sermons and Long Sieges are apt to lull the senses. Feb. 3. The Infant Hercules. " Britannia Roused, or the Coalition Monsters Destroyed. 7. Billy Lackbeard and Charley Blackbeard Playing at Football. Mar. 1. The Apostate Jack Robinson, Political Ratcatcher. 3. A Peep into Friar Bacon's Study. 8. Master Billy's Procession to Grocers' Hall. 11. The Champion of the People. 26. The State Auction. 29. The Drum-Major of Sedition. 30. Sir Cecil's Budget for Paying the National Debt. 31. The Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion. April 1. The Duenna and Little Isaac. 3. The Two Patriotic Duchesses on their Canvass. (Duchesses of Portland and Devonshire.) 4. The Incurable. 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground.' 8. The Rival Candidates. 10. The Parody, or Mother Cole and Loader. (Vide Foote's 'Minor,' p. 29.) 12. The Poll. 12. The Devonshire, or most Approved Method of Securing Votes. 12. The Westminster Watchman. 14. Lords of the Bedchamber. 20. The Covent Garden Nightmare. 22. King's Place, or a View of Mr. Fox's Best Friends. 22. The Wit's Last Stake, or Cobbling Voters and Abject Canvassers. 22. Madame Blubber on her Canvass. (See verses.) 22. Political Affection. 23. Reynard put to his Shifts. 29. Madame Blubber's Last Shift, or the Aerostatic Dilly. 29. The Case is Altered. 30. Procession to the Hustings. May 1. Every Man has his Hobbyhorse. 4. _La Politesse Française_, or the English Ladies' Petition to his Excellency the Mushroom Ambassador. 4. Wisdom Led by Virtue and Prudence to the Temple of Fame. 11. The Westminster Mendicant. 11. A Coat of Arms. Dedicated to the newly-created Earl of Lonsdale. 12. A New Insect. A Buck. (It is not certain the print is by Rowlandson.) 18. The Westminster Deserter Drummed out of the Regiment. 18. Preceptor and Pupil-- Not Satan to the ear of Eve Did e'er such pious counsel give. 18. The Departure. 18. Secret Influence Directing the New Parliament. 20. For the Benefit of the Champion. 25. Liberty and Fame Introducing Female Patriotism (Duchess of Devonshire) to Britannia. 28. The Petitioning Candidate for Westminster-- From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia I come. July 24. 1784, or the Fashions of the Day. Aug. 8. The Vicar and Moses. (Song heading.) Sept. 5. Manager (Garrick) and Spouter. T. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street. 25. Bookseller and Author. H. Wigstead del., S. Alken fec. Pub. by S. W. Fores. (Repub. July 1, 1802.) 25. The Historian Animating the Mind of a Young Painter. (N.D.) English Curiosity, or the Foreigner Stared out of Countenance. (Republished. See 1794.) (N.D.) Counsellor and Client. Nov. 1. New-invented Elastic Breeches. Nixon inv. Pub. by W. Humphrey. 8. Money Lenders. 8. Apollo and Daphne. (Broderip and Wilkinson.) 25. The Minister's A---- (_Vide_ 'Gazetteer,' Nov. 11.) 25. A Peasant Playing the Flute. After J. Mortimer. Opening a Vein. Lunardi. (See 1785.) Dec. 10. Anticipation. (Chr. Atkinson, Contractor, in the Pillory.) 10. The Rhedarium. (See 1783.) 10. Colonel Topham Endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman. (See 1785.) 10. Billingsgate. (N.D.) John Stockdale, the Bookselling Blacksmith, one of the King's New Friends. (_Vide_ 'Intrepid Magazine.') Rest from Labour. Sunny Days. Miller's Waggon. Pub. by E. Jackson. A Timber Waggon. Do. Country Cart-horses. Do. Dray-horses, Draymen, and Maltsters. Do. Higglers' Carts. Do. A Postchaise. Do. A Cabriolet. Do. The Dead-alive. H. W. pl. 1; do. pl. 2. ROWLANDSON'S IMITATIONS OF MODERN DRAWINGS. (Folio) 1784-8. F. Wheatley. A Coast Scene. Fishermen and Fisherwomen. Do. Do. The companion. Gainsborough. A Sketch. Trees, Cottages, &c. Do. Cattle. Riverside. F. Wheatley. A Fair. Bartolozzi. A pair of Cupids. Barret and Gilpin. Mares and Foals, &c., in landscape. Do. Cattle, in landscape. Gainsborough. Landscape sketch. Mortimer. A Storm at Sea. Gainsborough. Cows. Zucchi. Harmony. Two nymphs singing, another playing a lyre. Mortimer. The Philosopher. Barret. Ruins; and a Park. Mortimer. A Study. Barret. Ruins, &c. Gainsborough. A Cottage, &c. Do. An open landscape. Mortimer. Scene in 'The Tempest,' from Shakspeare. Repub. 1801, by J. P. Thompson. G. Barret. Lake Scene. Sawrey Gilpin, R.A. Horses. Geo. Holmes. The Sage and his Pupil. Michael Angelo. Leda and the Swan. G. B. Cipriani. Sleeping Venus and Love. 1785. The Times (George III. on throne, &c.). A-going--a-going. Gone. Jan. 7. The Fall of Achilles. 24. Mock Turtle. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Mar. 2. The Golden Apple, or the Modern Paris. Prince of Wales, Duchesses of Rutland, Devonshire, and Gordon. Pub. by J. Phillips, 164 Piccadilly. 3. The Admiring Jew. Etched 1784. 7. Defeat of the High and Mighty Balissimo and his Cecilian Forces on the Plains of St. Martin's. Mar. 27. The Surprising Irish Giant of St. James's Street. Apr. 12. The Wonderful Pig. May 27. The Waterfall, or an Error in Judgment. Originally pub. May 27, 1784. June 28. Vauxhall Gardens. Aquatinta by F. Jukes; eng. by R. Pollard. Pub. by J. R. Smith. July 1. Comfort in the Gout. Repub. by T. R., July 1, 1802. 24. The Slang Society. Aug. 11. Introduction. 11. Colonel Topham Endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman. (See Dec. 1784.) Sept. 5. Aerostation out at Elbows. Vincent Lunardi. 30. Too Many for a Jew. S. Alken, Soho. The Consultation. The Convocation. Oct. 1. An Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. 1. The Maiden Speech. (Companion.) 1. A Cully pillaged. 1. Copperplate Printers at Work. 1. A Bed-warmer. H. Wigstead del. 1. Temptation. Do. 1. Grog on Board. (See Jan. 1794.) 1. Tea on Shore. 5. Captain Epilogue (Cap. Topham) to the Wells (Mrs. Wells). Nov. 24. Persons and Property Protected by Authority. 28. Doctors Differ. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 30. The Sad Discovery, or the Graceless Apprentice. Pub. by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street. 30. Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed. 31. Jockeyship. Pub. by J. R. Smith. 31. An Italian Family. (Repub. 1792.) 31. A French Family. (Rep. 1790.) Dec. 15. Courtship in High Life. H. Wigstead del. 15. Rustic Courtship. Do. 15. City Courtship. 15. Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green. 17. Reconciliation, or the Return from Scotland. 21. Botheration. T. R. Alken. Dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar. Pub. by W. Hunter. 21. The Loss of Eden, and Eden Lost. Gen. Arnold, and Eden, Lord Auckland. Sympathy, or a Family on a Journey. John Gilpin's Return to London. Designed and executed by H. Wigstead; aqua., F. Jukes. Harmony. Effects of Harmony. (N.D.) Discord (?) Tastes Differ. Nap in the Country. Nap in Town. (Companion.) Sea Amusement, or Commander-in-Chief of 'Cup and Ball' on a Cruize. Dec. 26. French Travelling, or the First Stage from Calais. 26. English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover. (N.D.) Toying and Trifling. 1785 (?) Opera Boxes. (Four plates.) 1786. Jan. 1. 'The Supplemental Magazine.' S. W. Fores. 1. Private Amusement. (Repeat.) Do. 5. Box-Lobby Loungers. Desig. H. Wigstead. Pub. by J. R. Smith, 83 Oxford Street. 13. Love and Learning, or the Oxford Scholar. Feb. 10. Sketch of Politics in Europe. Birthday of the King of Prussia. Toasts on the occasion. Mar. 6. La Négligé. Desig. by 'Simplex Mundities.' Executed by T. R. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 7. Captain Epilogue. (Repeated, with the addition of a notice-board, 'A Prospectus for the World and Fashionable Advertiser.') 7. An Ordnance Dream, or Planning Fortifications. 7. Luxury. Misery. 8. The Morning Dram. The Polish Dwarf (Borowlowski), Performing before the Grand Seigneur. 29. The Sorrows of Werter. The Last Interview. April 1. The Vicar and Moses. 1. The Dying Patient, or the Doctor's Last Fee. Pub. by H. Brookes, Coventry Street. (N.D.) Brewers' Drays. (N.D.) Youth and Age (?)--Contrasts. (N.D.) Sailors Carousing (?) Return from Sport. May 1. The panting Lover. Pub. by J. Phillips. 6. A Theatrical Chymist. (Holman _versus_ Topham.) More of Werter. The Separation: Charlotte preserved from Destruction by Albert and Hymen, whilst Werter in an access of frenzy puts an end to his existence. Designed by Collings. 6. A Box-Lobby Hero: the Branded Bully, or the Ass Stripped of the Lion's Skin. June 5. College Jockies: The Landlord sweating for his cattle. 5. Slyboots. July 20. Covent Garden Theatre. Sept. 1. _Outré_ Compliments. 25. The Tythe Pig. Oct. 1. The Jovial Crew. S. W. Fores. 20. A Visit to the Uncle. E. Jackson, Marylebone Street. (See 1794.) 20. A Visit to the Aunt. Do. (See 1794.) 20. The pretty Barmaid. 20. The Putney Disaster, or Symptoms of Ducking. Nov. 20. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. Dec. 30. The Word-eater. (Fox.) (See 1788.) Scottifying the Palate. Boswell, J., the Elder. Twenty Caricatures by T. R., in illustration of Boswell's Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides. Sm. folio. Pub. by E. Jackson, Marylebone Street. Illustrations to Poems of Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot). 4to., ed., 1786-92. Printed for G. Kearsley. Dec. 28. The Bachelor. The Married Man. H. Wigstead: S. Alken fecit. 1787. Jan. 1. London Refinement. 1. Country Simplicity. Going out in the morning. Scene, Windsor Forest. The Dinner. Drawing signed 'T. R.,' 1787. Repub. 1798. (See 1798.) 11. Uncle George and Black Dick at their New Game of Naval Shuttlecock.-- Cooks, scullions, hear me, every mother's son.--_Peter Pindar._ Is this your Louse? And now his lifted eyes the ceiling sought.--_Peter Pindar._ Peter's Pension. ('Peter Pindar.') Odes for the New Year. do. The Triumph of Sentiment. } Pub. by Jackson. The Triumph of Hypocrisy. } Transplanting of Teeth. Pub. by J. Harris, 37 Dean Street, Soho. (Baron Ron.) Post Inn. Country Inn. A Blacksmith's Shop. A Country Inn. Pub. by J. Harris. The Fisherman's Family. Do. Shoeing--The Village Forge. A Stage Coach. Repub. 1803. A Postchaise. Aquatint. A Rural Halt. Haymakers. Brewer's Dray; Country Inn. May 9. The Brain-sucker, or the Miseries of Authorship. Aug. 1. A College Scene, or a Fruitless Attempt on the Purse of Old Square-Toes. Eng. by E. Williams. Polygamy, ditto. Oct. 15. Stage Coach Setting out from a Posting-house. Cribbage Players. 18. Tragedy Spectators. Pub. by T. R. as the Act directs, 50 Poland Street. (Repub. Oct. 8, 1789.) Comedy Spectators. Do. Love in the East. 26. A Cribbage Party in St. Giles's disturbed by a press gang. Nov. 5. Reformation, or the Wonderful Effects of a Proclamation. 1787 (?) Art of Scaling. Embarking from Brighthelmstone to Dieppe. A Coast Scene. Rising Gale. Deer Hunting. A landscape scene. Fox Hunting. Companion. Dec. 15. Post Boys and Post Horses at the 'White Hart 1787 (?) Inn.' Pub. by J. Harris. Dec. 15. Modish. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Prudent. Do. 18. A Travelling Knife-Grinder at a Cottage Door. View on the French Coast. A Peep at St. James's. Civility. Mad Bull on Westminster Bridge. Going out in the Morning. Returned from a Fox Chase. The Welcome Home. 1788. The Meet. Hunting Morning. (One of series.) The Run. In at the Death. The Dinner. Feb. 20. The Humours of St. Giles's. Pub. by Harmer, engraver, 161 Piccadilly. Mar. 1. The Hypochondriac. Desig. by James Dunthorne. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 50 Poland Street. 6. The Q. A. Loaded with the Spoils of India. 29. Ague and Fever. Designed by James Dunthorne. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, Poland Street. 'Ah! let me, Sire, refuse it, I implore.' ('Peter Pindar.') Apr. 16. The Political Hydra. (Fox.) July 9. Going to Ride St. George. A Pantomime lately performed at Kensington before their Majesties. 22. Old Cantwell Canvassing for Lord Janus (Hood). July 27. Effects of the Ninth Day's Express from Covent Garden just Arrived at Cheltenham. (Lord John Townshend.) Housebreakers. Repub. Aug. 1, 1791, by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. (N.D.) Love and Dust. Scavenger's Cart. Aug. 1. The School for Scandal. Pub. by V. M. Picot. Nov. 22. False Courage (a duel). S. W. Fores. 25. Filial Piety. (P. W. and George III.) Englishmen in November.--Frenchmen in November. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 29. Lust and Avarice. Pub. by Wm. Rowlandson, 49 Broad Street, Bloomsbury. Luxury and Desire. Do. Dec. 20. The Prospect before us. (Half-a-Crown Regency.) 29. A Touch at the Times. The English Address. Wigstead. (T. R.) Stage Coach Setting Down at the Dolphin Inn. An Epicure. (A Nice Fish?) Repub. 1801. A Comfortable Nap in a Postchaise. A Fencing Match. 30. The Word-eater. (Fox.) (See 1786.) Sir Jeffery Dunstan Presenting an address from the Corporation of Garratt. Dressing for a Birthday. 31. Blue and Buff Loyalty. (Dr. Munro.) A Night Auction. A Print Sale. (Hutchins, auctioneer, and his wife.) 1788 (?) The Pea-cart. Simon and Iphigenia. 1789. Jan. 1. The Vice-Queen's Delivery at the Old Soldiers' Hospital in Dublin. 8. The Modern Egbert, or the King of Kings. 16. A Coronation in Pall Mall. 21. Loose Principles. 28. Suitable Restrictions. (Traces of Rowlandson's style.) The Pitt Fall. State Butchers. Neddy's Black Box. 30. The Propagation of a Truth. Long Slip. (13 figures.) Grog on Board. Signed date 1789. (See 1785.) Tea on Shore. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Do. Feb. 1. Hare Hunting. S. W. Fores. The Death. The Breakfast. 1. Careless Attention. Pub. by J. Griggs, 216 Holborn. 7. A New Speaker. 7. Britannia's Support, or the Conspirators Defeated. Chelsea Reach. Bay of Biscay. Hospital for Lunatics. 15. Going in State to the House of Peers, or a Piece of English Magnificence. Mar. 6. A Sweating for Opposition. By Dr. Willis, Dominiswealy & Co. 7. The Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary: a Galantee Show. 10. Edward the Black Prince Receiving Homage. (Traces of T. R.'s style.) Mar. 13. Agreeable Companions in a Postchaise. (Comp. to Comfortable Nap in a Postchaise) 1788. 15. Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary. 16. Do. do. Return, or Bulls without Horns. Apr. 1. Interruption, or Inconveniences of a Lodging House. (1789?) 4. The Rochester Address, or the Corporation going to Eat Roast Pork and Oysters with the Regent. 29. The Grand Procession to St. Paul's on St. George's Day, 1789. Etched by T. R., aqua. by Aiken. Pub. 1790, by Messrs. Robinson. Don't he Deserve it? Pub. by W. Holland. She don't Deserve it. Do., 50 Oxford Street. Domestic Shaving. A Penny Barber. A Brace of Blackguards. June 20. A Sufferer for Decency. 1789 (?) Racing Series. The Course. " Racing Series. The Betting Post. " Racing Series. The Mount. " Racing Series. The Start. July 20. The High-mettled Racer. S. W. Fores. (N.D.) Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green. (See 1785.) Aug. 4. A Fresh Breeze. A Cart Race. Plate dated 1788. Oct. 8. Tragedy Spectators.} } (See 1787.) Comedy Spectators. } 23. An Antiquarian. Pub. by Wm. Holland, 50 Oxford Street. A Visit to the Tombs in Westminster Abbey. 24. Sergeant Recruiter. (Duc d'Orleans.) Nov. La Place des Victoires, à Paris. Aqua. by S. Alken. A Dull Husband. 29. Mercury and his Advocates Defeated, or Vegetable Intrenchment. 1790. Beatrice fishing for a Coronet. Jan. 1. Tithe Pig. 1. A Butcher. 1. A Roadside Inn. 10. Frog Hunting. Feb. 20. Repeal of the Test Act. Fores' Museum. Toxophilites. Pub. by E. Harding, 132 Fleet Street. (See 1791.) Dressing for a Masquerade (Cyprians). Dressing for a Birthday (Ladies). A French Family. (See An Italian Family, 1792.) Mar. A Kick-up at a Hazard Table. (Large plate.) May 29. Who Kills First for a Crown. Philip Quarrel (Thicknesse), the English Hermit, &c. An Excursion to Brighthelmstone, made in the year 1782, by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson, with eight engravings by T. R. Pub. by Geo. and J. Robinson. June 1. Race Ground, Brighton. (Oblong folio, 1790). Alken fecit. Pub. by Robinsons, Paternoster Row. 1. Saloon at the Pavilion, Brighton. 1790(?) Waiting for Dinner. " At Dinner. " After Dinner. " Preparing for Supper. " Fox-Hunters Relaxing. 1790 (?) Evening. (about 1790.) A Christening. The Duenna and Little Isaac. Engd. by W. P. Carey. Aug. 6. Sheets of Picturesque Etchings.--Cattle at the River. The Horse Race. A View in Cornwall. The River, Towing Barges, &c. Rustic Refreshment. Winter Pastime: Skating on a frozen River. Sept. 1. A Dressing Room at Brighton. Oct. 20. Four o'clock in Town. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 20. Four o'clock in the Country. Do. Vide 'Benevolent Epistle to Sylvanus Urban'-- With anger foaming and of vengeance full, Why belloweth John Nichols like a Bull? A series of miniature groups and scenes; pub. by M. L., Brightelmstone, and H. Brookes, Coventry Street, London. Smollett (Tobias) Miscellaneous Works, &c. Six vols. 8vo. Plates by Rowlandson. Edinburgh. (First collected edition.) Rowlandson's Outlines, in 16 plates. Folio. Published at Fores' caricature warehouse, 'where may be seen the completest collection of caricatures in the kingdom, also the Head and Hand of Count Struenzee.--Admittance one shilling.' Plates 1-4, dated March 8, 1790. Plates 5-8, " June 18-20, 1790. June 27-30. Plates 9-12, " Jan.-Aug. 1791. Plates 13-14, " June 1, 1792. 1791. Jan. 13. The Prospect before us. (Pantheon.) 13. The Prospect before us. (Companion.) 30. Toxophilites (large plate). Pub. by E. Harding. (See 1790.) 31. Sheets of picturesque etchings.--A Four in Hand. The Village Dance. The Woodman Returning. River Scene, Mill, Shipping, &c. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 31. Sheets of picturesque etchings.--Huntsmen Visiting the Kennels. Haymakers Returning. Deer in a Park, Cattle, &c. Shepherds. Horses in a Paddock. Cattle Watering at a Pond. A Piggery. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Traffic ('Old Clo'men.') (See 1794.) Feb. 4. Chaos is come again. (Companion.) Mar. 1. The Attack. 22. Bardolph Badgered, or the Portland Hunt. (? Row.) Apr. 12. An Imperial Stride. (? Rowlandson or West.) 25. The Grand Battle between the famous English Cock and Russian Hen. (? Rowlandson.) May 16. The Volcano of Opposition. 17. The Ghosts of Mirabeau and Dr. Price Appearing to Old Loyola. 18. A Little Tighter. Pub. by S. W. Fores. A Little Bigger. Do. Cold Broth and Calamity. June 28. The Grand Monarque Discovered, or the Royal Fugitives Turning Tail. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Aug. 1. Housebreakers. (Etched, dated 1788.) 1. Damp Sheets. Aug. 12. English Barracks. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Aqua. by T. Malton. 12. French Barracks. S. W. Fores. Aqua. T. Malton. Oct. 28. Slugs in a Sawpit. Nov. 22. How to Escape Winning. How to Escape Losing. 1791(?) Angelo's Fencing Room. (See Memoirs.) (N.D.) 1791 (?) A Four in Hand. 1791 (?) Inn Yard on Fire. " A Squall in Hyde Park. " Illustrations to Fielding's 'Tom Jones.' Pub. by J. Siebbald, Edinburgh. (Repub. 1805.) Délices de la Grand Bretagne. Two plates by Rowlandson. Pub. by Wm. Birch, Hampstead Heath. 1792. Jan. 1. St. James's and St. Giles's. Oddities. Wigstead. 1. Do. do. 1. The Bank. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, Strand. Feb. Work for Doctors' Commons. Mar. A Dutch Academy. T. R., 52 Strand. Apr. 1. A Lying-in Visit. May 29. Six Stages of Marring a Face. Dedicated to the Duke of Hamilton. 29. Six Stages of Mending a face. S. W. F. Dedicated to the Rt. Hon. Lady Archer. June. Ruins of the Pantheon after the Fire which happened Jan. 14, 1792. Rowlandson and Wigstead del., Strand. July 18. The Chairmen's Terror. Leaving a Levée, St. James's Palace. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 52 Strand. Aug. 1. 'Roderick Random.' Lieut. Bowling Pleading the Cause of Young Roy to his Grandfather. 11. Ditto. The Passengers from the Waggon Arriving at the Inn. Oct. 1. On her Last Legs. Nov. 5. English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover. (See companion, Dec. 26, 1785.) French Travelling, or the First Stage from Calais. (See 1785.) 5. Studious Gluttons. 5. Convocation. S. W. F. 5. Philosophy run Mad, or a Stupendous Monument to Human Wisdom. (N. D.) Art of Scaling. Fielding, H. Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. A. Adams. 8vo. Nov. 5. An Italian Family. (Pub. 1785.) See A French Family (companion, 1790). 5. The Grandpapa. Wigstead. (See 1794.) 5. Cold Broth and Calamity. 5. Botheration. Dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar. (See 1785.) 5. The Hypochondriac. Desgd. by James Dunthorne. (See 1788. Ague and Fever.) 25. Benevolence. Dec. 1. Beauties. Pub. by S. W. Fores. The Contrast, 1792. Which is Best? (British Liberty, French do.) Pub. Jan. 1, 1793. Desgd. by Lord Geo. Murray. 1793. Jan. 1. The Old Angel, at Islington. Pub. by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. 8. Reform Advised, Reform Begun, Reform Complete. New Shoes. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Major Topham (of the World) and the Rising Genius of Holman. (See 1785.) Three Illustrations to Smollett. Pub. by J. Siebbald. (See 1791.) May 25. A Tit-bit for the Bugs. S. W. F. 25. Melopoyn (a distressed poet) and the Manager. Pub. by J. Siebbald. Oct. A Council of War Interrupted. 'Narrative of the War,' p. 101. (See 1796.) 17. Amputation. (1785.) Repub. S. W. F., 1793. 1790, 1791, 1792 & 1793. Book plates, pub. by J. Siebbald. (See 1791.) Smollett, T. 'Expedition of Humphrey Clinker.' Ten plates by Rowlandson. 1794. Jan. 1. The Grandpapa. H. Wigstead. 1. Grog on Board.} } (See 1785.) 1. Tea on Shore. } 1. English Curiosity. (See 1784.) 1. A Ballooning Scene. Aquatint. 1. Series of small Landscapes. Do. 17. St. James's, St. Giles's. (See 1792.) July (?) New Shoes. S W. F. Date on etching, 1793. Sept. 25. An Old Maid in Search of a Flea. S. M. U. inv., R. fecit. Dec. 16. Traffic. S. W. F., 3 Piccadilly. 16. Comforts of High Living. Pub. by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly. 18. Village Cavalry Practising in a Farmyard. G. M. Woodward. Rowlandson fec. 18. Jews at Luncheon. 20. A Visit to the Uncle. S. W. F. Aqua. by F. Jukes. (See 1786.) 20. A Visit to the Aunt. Do. (See 1786.) 20. Luxury and Misery. (See 1786.) S. W. Fores. 20. An Early Lesson of Marching. Woodward del. Pub. by S. W. F. 28. Bad News on the Stock Exchange. 1795. Harmony (and Love, 1796). Effects of Harmony. Nov. 24. A Master of the Ceremonies Introducing a Partner. Pub. by S. W. F. 1796. S. Alan Gardiner. Drawing by Rowlandson. Lord Salisbury, King of Würtemburg, and Duke of Gloucester. Love. An Accurate and Impartial Narrative of the War. 1793, 1794, 1795, &c. From drawings made on the spot by an Officer in the Guards. June 15. The Detection. H. Wigstead. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 1797. Jan. 1. Spiritual Lovers. Pub. by Hooper & Wigstead, 12 High Holborn. A Theatrical Candidate. Aug. 1. Feyge Dam, with part of the Fish Market at Amsterdam. Rowlandson del., Wright and Schultz fecit. Pub. by Ackermann, Strand. 1. Stadthouse, Amsterdam. 1. Place de Mer, Antwerp. 1. Companion view: Amsterdam. Rowlandson del., Wright and Schultz fecit. Pub. by Ackermann, Strand. Dutch Merchants. Sketched at Amsterdam. Tiens bien ton Bonnet, et toi, defends ta Queue. 'Rollandson,' invt. P. W. Tomkins scul. Cupid's Magic Lantern. Desd. by Woodward, etched by T. Rowlandson. (12 plates.) Waggon and Horses. The Feathers. Pub. by Laurie & Whittle. (See 1787.) Repub. 1803. 1798. Jan. 12. The Dinner (Hunt). Etched 1787, repub. 1798. 12. The Comforts of Bath. (12 plates.) Apr. 1. Views of London, No. 3. Entrance of Tottenham Court Road Turnpike, with a view of St. James's Chapel, Rowlandson del., Schultz sculp. Pub. at Ackermann's Gallery. 1. Views of London, No. 4. Entrance of Oxford Street, or Tyburn Turnpike, with a view of Park Lane. 1. Views of London, No. 5. Entrance from Mile End, or Whitechapel Turnpike. May 1. She will be a Soldier. Schultz sculp. He won't be a Soldier. Pub. by R. Ackermann. June 1. Views of London, No. 6. Entrance from Hackney or Cambridge Heath Turnpike, with a distant view of St. Paul's. 10. An Extraordinary Scene on the Road from London to Portsmouth. July 18. Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster, Reviewed by His Majesty on Wimbledon Common, July 5, 1798. Aug. Soldiers Recruiting. Ackermann's, 101, Strand. Privates Drilling. Do. Halt at a Cottage Door. Do. Sept. 1. The Advantage of Shifting the Leg. 1. The Consequence of not Shifting the Leg. Pub. by H. Angelo. Oct. 15. The Glorious Victory obtained over the French Fleet off the Nile, August 1, 1798, by the gallant Admiral Lord Nelson of the Nile. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 20. Admiral Nelson Recruiting with his Brave Tars after the Glorious Battle of the Nile. Ackermann's, Strand. An Amorous Turk. Nov. 12. High Fun for John Bull, or the Republicans put to their Last Shift. Pub. by Ackermann. Annals of Horsemanship; with 17 copperplates, by Bunbury. Engraved by Rowlandson, pub. by W. Wigstead. The Academy for Grown Horsemen; with 12 copperplates, by Bunbury. Engraved by Rowlandson, pub. by W. Wigstead. Love in Caricature; with 11 plates by Rowlandson. Pub. by W. Wigstead, Charing Cross. The Discovery. 1799. Jan. 1. Cries of London (a series):-- 1. 'Buy a Trap--a Rat-trap.' 2. 'Buy my fat Goose.' 3. Last Dying Speech and Confession. 4. 'Do you want any Brickdust?' Feb. 1. A Charm for a Democracy. 'Anti-Jacobin.' 10. An Artist Travelling in Wales. Delineations of Nautical Characters, in 10 plates. Pub. by Ackermann. An etching after Raphael Urbino. Apollo, Lyra, and Daphne. Mar. 1. Cries of London:-- 5. 'Watercresses.' 6. 'All a-growing.' 7. 'Flowers for your Garden.' 8. 'Hot Cross Buns--Two a Penny--Buns.' An Irish Howl. 'Anti-Jacobin Review.' Apr. 10. St. Giles's Courtship. St. James's Courtship. Pub. by R. Ackermann. May 1. For the 'Anti-Jacobin Review.' A Peep into the Retreat at Tinnechurch (United Irish). View of a Cathedral Town on Market-day. 10. Borders for Rooms and Screens, slips. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Pub. by Ackermann. 24 sheets. June 20. Borders for Halls. Do. 20. Connoisseurs. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 20. The Loyal Volunteers of London. 87 plates by T. Rowlandson. Pub. R. Ackermann. 20. Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise. Etched under the direction of H. Angelo and Son. Oblong folio. 24 plates. Aug. 1. Two Upright Sheets of Borders for Halls. Do. Two Upright Sheets of Borders for Halls. Do. A Game at Put in the Country Alehouse. G. M. Woodward invt. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1. Waddling Out. Woodward invt. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1. Horse Accomplishments:-- 1. A Paviour. 2. An Astronomer. 3. A Civilian. 1. A Devotee. 10. Comforts of the City. A Good Speculation. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. 10. Do. A Bad Speculation. Do. 12. Procession of a Country Corporation. Sept. Bay of Biscay. Repub. from 1789. 3. Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack Shaking Hands with an Old Acquaintance. 20. The Irish Baronet and his Nurse. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Oct. 1. The Gull and the Rook. Pub. by Hixon, 355 Strand. The Crow and the Pigeon. Do. Twopenny Cribbage. G. Woodward invt. Pub. by Ackermann. 28. A Note of Hand? (N.D.) Legerdemain. H. Bunbury del. Nov. 1. 'Good Night.' Woodward del., Rowlandson sc., Pub. by Ackermann. 1. March to the Camp. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Bartholomew Fair. A Visit to the Camp. 5. A Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East. Woodward del. A Dasher, or the Road to Ruin in the West. Woodward del. 1799 (?) Loose Thoughts. " The Bookbinder's Wife. " The Nursery. " A Freshwater Salute. " A Ride to Rumford. " City Fowlers. Mark. H. Bunbury del., Row. sc. " The City Hunt. Do., do. " Cits Airing themselves on Sunday. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sc. " A Grinning Match. H. Bunbury del., Row. sc. " A Militia Meeting. Do., do. " Distress. Pub. by Palser. " Une Bonne Bouche. 1800. Jan. 2. A French Ordinary. S. W. Fores. (See 1804.) 20. Washing Trotters. Hixon, 355, near Exeter 'Change, Strand. 21. Acute Pain. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 1. Desire. (No. 1.) Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 2. Attention. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 3. Hatred or Jealousy. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 4. Admiration with Astonishment. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 5. Veneration. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 6. Rapture. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 7. Desire. (No. 2.) Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 8. Joy with Tranquillity.Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 9. Laughter. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 10. Acute pain. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 11. Simple Bodily Pain. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 12. Sadness. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 13. Weeping. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 14. Compassion. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 15. Scorn. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 16. Horror. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 17. Terror. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 18. Anger. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. 20. Despair. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Feb. 14. Beef à la Mode. Mar. 6. Doctor Botherum, the Mountebank. 12. Humbugging, or Raising the Devil. Ackermann. 12. Hocus Pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone. Ackermann. April 1. A Ghost in the Wine Cellar. 1. Caricature Medallions for Screens. Pub. by R. Ackermann, Strand. 20. Hearts for the Year 1800. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann, Strand. May 1. Cash. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1. Bills of Exchange. Do. 12. Melopoyn Haranguing the Prisoners in the Fleet. Hogarthian Novelist. Pl. 5. May 12. Captain Bowling Introduced to Narcissa. Do. Pl. 6. 20. A Skipping Academy. G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann, Strand. June. Sketches at the Oratorio. G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. 4. Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant. 4. Pictures of Prejudice. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 20. A Silly. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 26. A Sulky. Do. July 25. Collar'd Pork. 25. The Pleasures of Margate:-- _Morning._--Breakfast at Michiner's Grand Hotel. _Noon._--Dining. Do. _Evening._--A Drive on the Sands. _Night._--At the Bazaars, Raffling for Prizes, Flirtation, &c. Pub. by R. Ackermann. (O.D.) The Tuileries in Paris. Aug. 20. Summer Amusement, a Game at Bowls. T. R., 1 James Street, Adelphi. 20. Sailors Regaling. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. 30. Gratification of the Senses _à la mode Française_. (Seeing, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling, Feeling.) Oct. 1. The Newspaper. G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 29. Grotesque Border for Rooms and Halls. Woodward del., Row. sc. Three strips. Ackermann. (N.D.) Do. Two upright strips, Screens. Oct. 25. Do. Three long strips. (N.D.) Two upright strips. Sterne. The Beauties of Sterne, with a plate by Rowlandson. 12mo. Henry Wigstead. Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797, by Henry Wigstead. With plates by Rowlandson, Pugh, Howitt, &c. Pub. by Wigstead. Yorick Feeling the Grisette's Pulse. Series of Attributes:-- Philosophorum. Fancyana. Epicurium. Penserosa. Tally-ho-rum! Allegoria. Physicorum. Nunno. Publicorum. Funeralorum. Virginia. Hazardorum. Battlerorum. Billingsgatura. Traflicorum. Barberorum. Flor. Lawyerorum. A Peep into Bethlehem. Matrimonial Comforts. A series. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.:-- 1. The Dinner spoiled. 2. Late Hours. 3. Anonymous Letter. 4. A Return from a Walk. 5. Killing with Kindness. 6. A Fashionable Suit. 7. Washing Day. 8. A Curtain Lecture. Country Characters. A series. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.:-- 1. A Publican. 2. A Justice. 3. A Barber. 4. Footman. 5. Tax-gatherer. 6. Squire. 7. Vicar. 8. Doctor. 9. Exciseman. 10. Steward. 11. Attorney. 12. London Outrider, or Brother Saddlebag. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1800? Preparations for the Academy. Old Nollekens and his Venus. Rainbow Tavern, in Fleet Street, in 1800. 1801. Jan. 1. An Epicure. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Repub. (See 1788.) A nice piece of fish. 1. A Councillor. Pub. by S. W. Fores. A Brace of Public Guardians:-- Councillor in Court. Watchman in Street. 1. The Union. Ackermann. A Money Scrivener. Pub. by S. W. Fores. A Jew Broker. 15. The Brilliants. 15. Undertakers Regaling. Nixon del. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 20. Symptoms of Sanctity. (R. fecit, 1800.) 30. Single Combat in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O! Feb. 10. The Miser's Prayer. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by Ackermann. 10. The Old Maid's Prayer. Mar. 18. The Union Head-dress. W. del., R. sc. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Apr. 2. 1. Taste. 2. Fashion. Woodward del., Row. sculp. 3. Elegance. 4. Fancy. Do. do. May 1. Boot Polishing. G. M. Woodward. Pub. by R. Ackermann. The Epicure's Prayer. The Lottery Office Keeper's Prayer. (O.D.) Rag Fair. June 4. The Maiden's Prayer. 4. The Widow's Prayer. The Miser's Prayer. July 12. Light Summer Hat and Fashionable Walking Stick. Pub. by Ackermann. 20. The Toper's Mistake. G. M. Woodward inv. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 25. The Maid of All Work's Prayer. 30. The Apothecary's Prayer. The Quack Doctor's Prayer. Aug. 1. The Female Gambler's Prayer. 10. The Jockey's Prayer. 10. The Actress's Prayer. Here's your Potatoes, Four full Pounds for Two-pence. Buy my Moss Roses, or Dainty Sweetbriar. Light, your Honour? Coach unhired. Pray Remember the Blind. Sept. An Old Member on his way to the House of Commons. 5. Summer Clothing. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 5. The Cook's Prayer. 12. The Sailor's Prayer. Sept. A Sailor Mistaken. G. M. Woodward. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 20. Poll of Portsmouth's Prayer. 20. The Publican's Prayer. Dec. 20. Gig Hauling, or Gentlemanly Amusement for the Nineteenth Century. G. M. Woodward inv. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1802. Feb. 25. Friendly Accommodation. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Mar. 1. The Monstrous Craws, or a New Discovered Animal. Pub. by R. Ackermann. May 1. A Man of Fashion's Journal. 1. A Woman of Fashion's Journal. May 10. Seven Stages of Man's Schooling:-- The Nursery. Private School. Public School. University. School for Gallantry. School for Modern Romans. School for Modern Greeks. Des. by J. B. W., etd. and pub. by T. Rowlandson. 20. The Sailor's Journal. 28. Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests. (Roberts.) June 10. How to Pluck a Goose. Etched by T. R. Pub. by T. Williamson, 20 Strand. 15. A Parish Officer's Journal. 25. _La Fille mal Gardé_, or Jack in the Box. Williamson, 20 Strand, London. July 1. Comfort in the Gout. Etching dated 1785. 1. A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected. 1. Sly boots. 1. Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed. Fores. Pub. originally Nov. 1785. 1. Jockeyship. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 1. A Snip in a Rage. Pub. by S. Howitt, Panton St. 18. The Corporal in Good Quarters. Aug. 30. A Musical Family. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Sept. 12. Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heartache. (Repub. 1811.) Nov. 20. Doctor Convex and Lady Concave. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1802 (?) Hunt the Slipper. Picnic Revels. Salt Water. Who's Mistress Now? S. Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket. Edward Jones (Bard). Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature. Fol. 1802. Coloured frontispiece by Rowlandson. A Compendious Treatise on Modern Education, by T. B. Willyams. Eight plates by Rowlandson. Obl. 4to. From Notes by the late Joel M'Cringer, D.D. 1803. Feb. 1. Signiora Squallina. Sweet Lullaby. Queer Fish. Recruits. (See 1811.) Mar. 1. A Catamaran, or an Old Maid's Nursery. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street. Mar. Richmond Hill, after H. Bunbury. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Billiards. Do. Apr. 1. Road to Ruin. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 6. A Diver. 12. Ducking a Scold. May 1. John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs. June 21. A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral. (See June, 1808.) July 1. A Stage Coach. 10. Flags of Truth and Lies. Pub. by Ackermann. A Flat between Two Sharps. 1804. Jan. 1. Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites. Pub. by S. W. Fores. 2. A French Ordinary. Fores. May. A New French Phantasmagoria. (Etching dated 1805.) June 8. Light Volunteers on a March. 8. Light Infantry Volunteers on a March. Pub. by Ackermann. July 31. The Imperial Coronation. Nov. 31. Theatrical Leap-frog. (Ackermann.) Dec. 14. The Death of Madame République. Melpomene in the Dumps. Joel M'Cringer, D.D., F.R.S. A Compendious Treatise of Modern Education, &c. (See 1802.) Folio. 1805. Feb. 3. Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-Gatherers. Howitt, 3 Wardour Street, Soho. 25. The Famous Coalheaver, Black Charley, Looking into the Mouth of the Wonderful Coal Pit. (Ackermann.) Apr. 23. The Modern Hercules Clearing the Augean Stables. Pub. by Rowlandson, Adelphi. 23. The Fifth Clause, or Effect of Example. Pub. by T. R. 28. A Scotch Sarcophagus. Do. May 15. John Bull's Turnpike Gate. Do. 25. A Sailor's Will. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann. A Finishing School. July 8. The Scotch Ostrich Seeking Cover. Pub. by Rowlandson, Adelphi. 14. Recovery of a Dormant Title, or a Breeches Maker become a Lord. Repub. 1812. Antiquarians à la Grecque. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Oct. 1. The Departure from the Coast, or the End of the Farce of Invasion. (Ackermann.) 2. John Bull at the Italian Opera. 30. Raising the Wind. Nov. 13. Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever on Receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets. (Ackermann.) H. Fielding. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. 8vo. The Sentinel Mistakes Tom Jones for an Apparition. Tobias Smollett.--The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle. 8vo. Views in Cornwall and Dorset. A Series. Nov. Clearing a Wreck on the North Coast of Cornwall. A Finishing School. Glow Worms. (See July, 1812.) Muck Worms. 1806. Mar. 15. The Waltz. (See the 'Sorrows of Werter.') Apr. 3. An Evergreen. 16. The Political Hydra. Wigstead. Orig. pub. Dec. 26, 1788. Rep. new date. 18. Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax. Pub. by T. R., Adelphi. 20. A Cake in Danger. A Select Vestry. May. Recruiting on a Broadbottom'd Principle. 1. A Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire. Pub. by T. R., repub. 1812. 4. Daniel Lambert, the Wonderful Great Pumpkin of Little Britain. Ackermann. 31. A Diving Machine on a New Construction. T. R., 1 James Street. June 20. The Acquittal, or Upsetting the Porter Pot. (Lord Melville.) T. R., 1 James Street. (O.D.) A Prize Fight. (See March, 1808.) (O.D.) Butterfly Catcher and the Bed of Tulips. Butterfly Hunting. Probably engd. by Williams. July 21. Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley's Magic Lantern. T. R. Anything will do for an Officer. View of the Interior of Simon Ward, _alias_ St. Brewer's Church, Cornwall. A Monkey Merchant. 1807. Feb. 1. Miseries of London: 'Going out to Dinner,' &c. Ackermann. 1. Miseries of Travelling--The Overloaded Coach. 3. The Captain's Account Current of Charge and Discharge. Giles Grinagain, 7 Artillery Street, London. T. R. 26. Mrs. Showell. The Woman who shows General Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford. T. N. Esq. Pub. by T. R., 1 St. James Street, Adelphi. 28. At Home and Abroad! Abroad and at Home! T. R., 1 James Street, Adelphi. Mar. 1. Enraged Vicar. Apr. 18. All the Talents. 24. A Nincompoop, or Henpecked Husband. Tegg, 141. 26. John Rosedale, Mariner. Exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital. May 1. The Pilgrims and the Peas. Des. by Woodward, Etd. by Rowlandson. 3. Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life. Pub. by A. Berigo, 38 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, May 3, 1807. Pl. 1. Beauty, Music, a few thousands, and opportunity given by card tables, often feather the adventurer and prove an easy introduction to the Miseries of Human Life. Pl. 2. Jealousy, rage, disappointment, intrigue, and laughter are here pretty much exemplified, and afford an old lover a high-seasoned taste of the Miseries of Human Life. Monastic Fare.-- No baron or squire, or knight of the shire, Lives half so well as a Holy Friar. May 6. Song Headings, pub. by Tegg:--Black, Brown, and Fair. Des. by Bunbury, etd. by Rowlandson. 6. The Holy Friar. Des. by Sir E. Bunbury, etd. by Rowlandson. 16. I Smell Rat, or a Rogue in Grain. Ackermann. 17. The Old Man of the Sea, Sticking to the Shoulders of Sindbad the Sailor. _Vide_ the 'Arabian Nights Entertainments.' (Burdett and Horne Tooke.) Pub. by Tegg. 25. A White Sergeant Giving the Word of Command. 29. Comedy in the Country. Tragedy in London. 30. Song Headings, pub. by Tegg. Platonic Love. 'None but the Brave Deserve the Fair.' Sir E. Bunbury. Etd. by Rowlandson. June 12. Miseries Personal: 'After Dinner, when the Ladies Retire,' &c. Ackermann. 15. Song Headings, pub. by Tegg.--Murphy Delaney. Woodward del., Rowlandson fecit. Easter Hunt--Clearing a Fence. 18. A View on the Banks of the Thames. Pub. by T. Tegg. July 1. More Scotchmen, or Johnny Macree Opening his New Budget. Pub. by Tegg. 9. Song Heading, pub. by Tegg. A Cure for Lying and a Bad Memory. Woodward del., Row. fecit. 10. The Double Disaster, or New Cure for Love. Row. del. et sculp. Tegg. Miseries of the Country.[28] 14. Easter Monday, or Cockney Hunt. Oct. 5. A Mistake at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety. Englishman in Paris. H. Bunbury. (1807?) (N.D.) Symptoms of Restiveness. (1807?) " A Calf's Pluck. H. Bunbury. Do. " Rusty Bacon. Do. " A Tour to the Lakes. Do. Nov. 9. Thomas Simmons. Drawn from Life. Pub. by T. R., 1 James Street. 10. Directions to Footmen. R. invt. Tegg, 273. 10. John Bull making Observations on the Comet. Woodward del., Row. sculp. Pub. by Tegg. 20. A Couple of Antiquities: My Aunt and My Uncle. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 21. Song Headings, pub. by Tegg. The Dog and the Devil. Woodward del., Rowlandson scul. 1807 (?) Miseries of Bathing. More Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey Broke through. The Man of Feeling. The Pleasures of Human Life. By Hilari Benevolus & Co. Pub. by Longmans, 1807. Cr. 8vo. NOTE: While on a visit in the Hundreds of Essex being under the necessity of getting dead drunk every day to save your life. 1808. Jan. 'The Discovery.' (See 1809.) Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork, with his Coat Buttoned Behind. Qy. Acker. or R. pub. 7. Tom Tack's Ghost. (Song and Heading.) Pub. by Tegg, No. 38. Jan. 16. Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life. Pl. 3. A Blackleg detected secreting cards &c., after drawing upon your purse on former occasions, is the properest of men to run the gauntlet; as he but too often produces substantial Miseries for Human Life. 16. Pl. 4. Suffering under the last symptoms of a dangerous malady, you naturally hope relief from medical skill and practice, but flying periwigs, brandished canes, and clysters, the fear of random cuffs, &c., intrude and produce a climax in the Miseries of Human Life. Mar. 1. Miseries of High Life (Tegg). Briskly stooping to Pick up a Lady's fan, &c. 1. The Green Dragon. Ackermann. 1. Description of a Boxing Match, June 9, 1806. Apr. 1. Soldiers on a March. Des. and pub. by T. R., 1 James Street, Adelphi. Plates to Tegg's Gambado, May 1808. 8vo. May 6. The Head of the Poll, or the Wimbledon Showman and his Puppet. Pub. by Walker, Cornhill. 12. The Consultation, or Last Hope. 21. Volunteer Wit, or not Enough for a Prime. Tegg. The Anatomy of Melancholy. Ackermann. 21. The Mother's Hope. Pub. by Tegg. The Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature. With 105 Illustrations by Rowlandson and Pugin. 3 vols. 4to. R. Ackermann. June 4. The Sweet Little Girl that I Love. Pub. by Tegg, No. 167. Woodward del., R. sculp. 4. Odd Fellows from Downing Street Complaining to John Bull. Woodward del., R. sculp. 21. A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral. 30. Accommodation, or Lodgings to Let at Portsmouth. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Tegg, 219. 30. The Welsh Sailor's Mistake, or Tars in Conversation. Tegg, 220. July 8. The Corsican Tiger at Bay. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 10. Billingsgate at Bayonne, or the Imperial Dinner. Ackermann. 12. The Corsican Spider in his Web. Woodward del. Rowlandson sc. Pub. by Tegg. 12. The Corsican Nurse Soothing the Infants of Spain. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Pub. by Tegg. 22. The Beast as Described in the Revelations, chap. xiii. Resembling Napoleon Buonaparte. G. Sauler, Farnham. Pub. by Ackermann. Aug. 18. From the Desk to the Throne. A New Quick Step by Joseph Buonaparte. The Bass by Messrs. Happy and Talley. G. Sauler Farnham. Pub. by Ackermann. 21. King Joe's Retreat from Madrid. Tegg, 53. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 25. Behaviour at Table. Woodward del. 4 subjects. Miseries of Human Life. 1 vol. 50 illustrations. Small folio. 27. King Joe on his Spanish Donkey. Woodward del., Row. sculp. Sept. 12. A Spanish Passport to France. Ackermann. 12. The Political Butcher, or Spain Cutting up Buonaparte for the Benefit of his Neighbours. G. S. Farnham. Ackermann. Sept. 15. The Fox and the Grapes. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Ackermann. 17. Prophecy explained:--'And there are seven Kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space.' Ackermann. Row. del. and sculp. 20. Napoleon the Little in a Rage with his great French Eagle. Row. del. and sculp. Ackermann. 24. A Hard Passage, or Boney Playing Bass on the Continent. Geo. Sauler Farnham. Ackermann. 25. King Joe and Co. making the most of their Time previous to quitting Madrid. 29. Nap and his Partner Joe. Row. Tegg, 60. Oct. 1. Nap and his Friends in their Glory. Ackermann. 3. John Bull Arming the Spaniards. Do. 17. Junot Disgorging his Booty. Do. 25. A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures. Woodward del., engd. by T. R. Tegg. Nov. 1. Get money, money still, And then let Virtue follow if she will. 1. Rum Characters in a Shrubbery. 1. Doctor Gallipot. 'Throw Physic to the Dogs.' (See 1810.) 1. Wonderfully Mended. Shouldn't have Known you again. 1. The Last Shift. 1. Breaking Cover. 1. In Port and out of Port, or News from Portugal. Woodward del., Row. sculp. Pub. by Tegg. 19. The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon. Woodward and Rowlandson. Votaries of Fashion in the Temple of Folly. How to Break a Shop Window with an Umbrella. More Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey Broke through. (See 1807.) How to Walk the Streets. 8vo. 3 illustrations by Woodward and Rowlandson. Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners. Ten Cartoons. Engd. by Rowlandson from drawings by Woodward. Pub. by T. Tegg. 1802. 12mo. The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting. Pub. by T. Tegg. The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror. (Continued in 1810, &c.) Pub. by Tegg. 1808 (?) Bartholomew Fair. A British Sailor. Frenchman. Spaniard. Dutchman. Pub. by Tegg. A Lecture on Heads, by Geo. Alex. Stevens. With 25 illustrations by Woodward and Rowlandson. Pub. by Tegg. Beauties of Tom Brown. In one vol. 1809. The Discovery. Repub. from 1798. Jan. 15. The Head of the Family in Good Humour. Tegg, 131. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 15. The Old Woman's Complaint, or the Greek Alphabet. W. del., R. sc. Tegg. Feb. 1. Launching a Frigate. Tegg. Newton del. R. sculp. Feb. 1. A Traveller Refreshed in a Stagnant Pool after the Fatigues of a Dusty Day's Journey. Ackermann. 1. Mrs. Bundle in a Rage, or Too Late for the Stage. Ackermann. 15. Dissolution of Partnership, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke winding up her Accounts. Rowlandson des. and sculp. 20. Mrs. Clarke's Levée. 20. The Ambassador of Morocco on a Special Mission. Tegg. 21. Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place, or a Kept Mistress in High Feather. Tegg. 25. The York Magician Transforming a Footboy into a Captain. Tegg. Also known as 'The Magician.' 26. The Bishop and his Clarke, or a Peep into Paradise. Tegg, 93. 26. All for Love. A Scene at Weymouth. 26. An Unexpected Meeting. Tegg, 69. 27. A Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place, or the Bishop in an Ecstasy. Tegg. Mar. 2. A Parliamentary Toast. 'Here's to the Lady,' &c. Tegg. 4. Chelsea Parade, or a Croaking Member Surveying the inside and outside of Mrs. Clarke's Premises. Tegg. 5. The Road to Preferment, through Clarke's Passage. Tegg. 5. The York March. Tegg. 7. The Triumvirate of Gloucester Place, or the Clarke, the Soldier, and the Taylor. Tegg 69. John Gilpin said, 'Of womenkind I only love but one, And thou art she, my dearest dear, therefore it shall be done!' 8. A Scene from the Tragedy of Cato. Tegg, 69. 8. Yorkshire Hieroglyphics!! Plate 1. Tegg. The Duke's Letter to Mrs. Clarke. 9. The Burning Shame. Tegg. 11. Yorkshire Hieroglyphics. Plate Second. Tegg. The Duke's Second Letter, to Mrs. Clarke. 12. The Statue to be Disposed of at Gloucester Place. (Tegg.) 13. A General Discharge, or the Darling Angel's Finishing Stroke. Tegg. The Duke of York's _Chères Amies_, Mesdames Carey, Cook, Sutherland, Gifford, Clarke, Shaw, &c. 15. The Champion of Oakhampton Attacking the Hydra of Gloucester Place. Tegg. Bellua Multorum es Capitum.--_Hor._ 17. The Parson and the Clarke. Tegg. 19. Sampson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah. Tegg. 20. A Mad Dog in a Coffee House. 24. The Resignation, or John Bull Overwhelmed with Grief. 24. The Prodigal Son's Resignation. Tegg. 27. Frontispiece to Tegg's Complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the Circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of H.R.H. the Duke of York before the House of Commons, 1809.-- Out of Evil cometh Good. Learn to be wise from others' harm, And thou 'shalt do full well!' Mar. 29. Mrs. Clarke's Last Effort! Your rhino rattle, come--men and cattle--come, All to Mrs. Clarke O. Of trouble and monies I'll ease you, my honies, And leave you in the dark O. 30. The York Dilly; or, the Triumph of Innocence. Tegg, 94. Apr. 1. Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family, after Preaching before Royalty. Tegg. 2. Mrs. Clarke's Farewell to her Audience. Tegg. Tailpiece to Tegg's Collection of the York and Clarke Caricatures. 4. Original Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place. Tegg. 5. A York Address to the Whale. Caught lately off Gravesend. Tegg. 10. The Flower of the City. Aldn. Flower. Tegg. 11. The Modern Babel, or Giants Crushed by a Weight of Evidence. Tegg. 18. The Sick Lion and the Asses. Tegg. Duke of York series. 21. Comforts of Matrimony. A Good Toast. Reeve & Jones. 21. Do. The Tables Turned. The Miseries of Wedlock. Reeve & Jones. 21. Burning the Books. Memoirs of Mrs. Clarke. Tegg. 22. A Piece-Offering. Memoirs, Life, Letters, &c., of M. A. Clarke. Tegg. 24. The Quaker and the Clarke. Tegg, 83. 25. John Bull and the Genius of Corruption. Tegg (94). 29. O! you're a Devil, get along do! Sterne's Sentimental Journey. 12mo. Yorick and Father Lorenzo. La Fleur and the Dead Ass. June 1. Mansion House Monitor. Poetical Magazine. 12. Boney's Broken Bridge. Tegg. July 9. Hell broke loose; or, the Devil to Pay among the Darling Angels. Two of a Trade can Never Agree. Mrs. Clarke and Col. Wardle. Tegg. 14. More of the Clarke; or Fresh Accusations. Tegg, 96. 16. The Plot Thickens; or, Diamond Cut Diamond. 18. Amusement for the Recess; or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture. (Col. Wardle.) Tegg, 98. 20. A Tit-Bit for a Strong Stomach. Ackermann. 24. The Tables are Turned; how are the Mighty Fallen. Tegg, 96. 30. The Bill of Wrights; or, the Patriot Alarmed. Tegg, 101. 31. The Huntsman Rising. The Gamester going to Bed. (See 1811.) Aug. 1. Wonders--Wonders--Wonders! 10 Figures. Tegg. 1. The Mistake. Tegg. 28. The Rising Sun; or a View of the Continent. Desd. by G. Sauler Farnham. Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Sept. 3. The Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte, or Napoleon brought to his last Stool. Tegg, 106. 4. Song by Commodore Curtis. Tune: 'Cease, Rude Boreas.' Tegg. 14. A Design for a Monument to be Erected in Commemoration of the Great, Glorious, and Never-to-be-Forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably Planned and executed in the year 1809. (Gen. Chatham's Expedition.) Sept. 24. General Chatham's marvellous Return from his Expedition of Fireworks. A Plan for a General Reform. Pub. by T. Tegg. 27. This is the House that Jack Built. O. P. Riots, Drury Lane. Tegg. 30. A Lump of Impertinence. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by Tegg, 143. Miseries of Human Life. Tegg, 257. Oct. 24. Preparations for the Jubilee; or Theatricals Extraordinary. Tegg, 110. 25. A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures. Pub. by Tegg, 188. 25. Do. do do. 189. Nov. 1. Inside View of Public Library, Cambridge. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Dec. 1. Cattle not Insurable. 12. The Boxes!-- O woe is me! To have seen what I have seen-- Seeing what I see! Opie invt. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James St., Adelphi. 18. Joint Stock Street. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Tegg, 174. 23. A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Tegg, 173. 24. The Bull and Mouth. Woodward and Rowlandson. Tegg, 290. Smollett (T.), Miscellaneous Works. 26 Illustrations by Rowlandson. 5 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh. Sterne (L.). The Beauties of Sterne. Embellished with Caricatures by T. Rowlandson. Poetical Magazine. Pub. Ackermann's. 1809. Continued 1810-11. Royal 8vo. 4 vols. Beauties of Tom Brown. Frontispiece and illustrations by T. Rowlandson. Pub. by Tegg. 12mo. Gambado. An Academy for Grown Horsemen, &c. 1809, 8vo. Pub. by Tegg. (See 1808.) Baron Munchausen's Surprising Adventures. 1809, 12mo. Pub. by Tegg. Beresford (James). An Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life. 1809, 8vo. Butler (S.), 'Hudibras.' 5 Illus. by Wm. Hogarth. Engraved by T. Rowlandson. Pub. by Tegg. Advice to Sportsmen; selected from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell. 16 Illustrations by Rowlandson. Pub. by Thos. Tegg. 1809, 12mo. Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature. 12 views. Drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson, aquatinted by Stadler. Views in Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Isle of Wight, &c. The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 1809. Pub. by Tegg. 12mo. The Pleasures of Human Life. By Hilari Benevolus & Co. Pub. by Longmans. With 5 plates by Rowlandson, &c. (1807). Annals of Sporting by Caleb Quizem. Woodward del.; Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by T. Tegg. 1809. 12mo. 1809 (?) A Lump of Innocence. Tegg. The Trial of the Duke of York. Pub. by T. Tegg. 2 vols. 1809. (Collected Caricatures.) Scandal, Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the Evidence and Remarks of the Members. Containing fourteen scarce portraits by Rowlandson, amongst which are Mrs. M. A. Clarke, Sir F. Burdett, Duke of York, Col. Wardle, &c. 2 vols, 12mo. 1809. 1809 (?) A Glee. 'How shall we Mortals pass our Hours? In Love, in War, in Drinking?' Tegg. Disappointed Epicures. 1810. Jan. 1. Business and Pleasure. Mar. 30. Winding up the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition. April 7. The Dunghill Cock and Game Pullet, or Boney Beat out of the Pit. 12. Libel Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press. Tegg, 4. 20. A New Tap Wanted, or Work for the Plumber. 26. The Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower. May 1. Front View of Christ Church, Oxford. Emmanuel College Garden, Cambridge. Emmanuel College, Cambridge. A Nobleman Presenting a Collection of Busts. View of the Theatre, Printing House, &c., Oxford. St. Mary's Church--Radcliffe Library. Inside View of the Public Library, Cambridge. Pub. by Ackermann. 5. A Bait for the Kiddies on the North Road, or that's your sort, prime bang up to the mark. 10. Kissing for Love, or Captain Careless Shot Flying. Tegg, 52. 10. Easterly Winds, or Scudding under Bare Poles. Tegg, 2. 15. Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor Playing at Bo-peep. Tegg, 16. 15. A Bonnet Shop. Tegg, 17. 20. Peter Plumb's Diary. Thos. Tegg, 18. 30. A Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris. Tegg, 20. 1810 (?) Paris Diligence. Pub. by Tegg. June 4. Love and Dust. (Tegg, 2.) Repub. (Appeared originally in 1799.) 5. Boxing Match for 200 guineas between Dutch Sam and Medley, fought May 31, 1810, on Moulsey Hurst, near Hampton. No. 22. Aug. 8. Smuggling Out, or Starting for Gretna Green. Schultz sculp. 8. Smuggling In, or a College Trick. Sept. 18. Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate. Tegg, 11. 25. Rigging out a Smuggler. Tegg, No. 8. 30. Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal. Tegg, 10. Oct. 5. Sports of a Country Fair. Part 1. " Do. do. Part 2. " Do. do. Part 3. A Bengal Tiger Loose. Cockburn's Theatre on Fire. Advice to a Publican, or a Secret worth knowing. The Glutton. Ladies trading on their own bottom. Oct. 25. An Old Ewe Dressed Lamb Fashion. Tegg, 42. 25. Spit-Fires. Tegg, 44. 25. Dropsy Courting Consumption. Rowlandson del. Pub. by Tegg, 45. Nov. 1. Doctor Gallipot Placing his Fortune at the Feet of his Mistress. (See 1808.) 1. Kitchen-Stuff. Tegg, 43. 19. A Hit at Backgammon. Tegg, 46. 20. Medical Despatch, or Doctor Double-Dose Killing Two Birds with One Stone. Tegg, 47. Bath Races. Tegg, 49. 30. Doctor Drainbarrel conveyed Home in a Wheelbarrow, in order to take his Trial for Neglect of Family Duty. Tegg, 23. 30. After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce, or Corporal Casey got into the Wrong Box. Cries of London. 30 plates. 4to. _Circa_ 1810. The Harmonic Society. Row. del. Butler, S. 'Hudibras.' Illus. Rowdn. 1810. 8vo. (See 1809.) Pub. by T. Tegg. 1810 (?) The Sign of the Four Alls. Pub. by T. Tegg, No. 13. Rabbit Merchant. Tegg, 25. 1810 (?) A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies. (After James Gillray.) A Parody on Milton. 1811. Jan. 1. A Bird's-eye View of Smithfield Market, taken from the Bear and Ragged Staff. Pugin and Rowlandson del. Pub. by R. Ackermann. A Bird's-eye View of Covent Garden Market. Do. do. do. 28. College Pranks, or Crabbed Fellows Taught to Caper on the Slack Rope. Tegg, 53. Feb. A Sleepy Congregation. Tegg, 54. 12. A Midwife going to a Labour. Tegg, 55. 16. The Gig Shop, or Kicking up a Breeze at Nell Hamilton's Hop. Tegg, 56. 20. Pigeon-Hole, a Covent Garden Contrivance to Coop up the Gods. Tegg, 57. 26. A French Dentist Showing a Specimen of his Artificial Teeth and False Palates. Tegg, 58. Mar. 1. A Catamaran, or Old Maid's Nursery. 2. Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazen-Nose Broken loose. Pub. by Tegg, 59. 10. She Stoops to Conquer. Tegg, 61. 12. The Anatomist. Tegg, 60. 16. Sailors on Horseback. Tegg, 62. 28. Kitty Careless in Quod, or Waiting for Jew Bail. Tegg, 65. Apr. 1. Pastime in Portugal, or a Visit to the Nunneries. Tegg, 64. 5. The Last Drop. 9. Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys. Tegg, 66. 10. A Picture of Misery. Tegg, 70.-- Iron was his chest, iron was his door, His hand was iron, and his heart was more. 12. Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by surprise. Tegg, 71. Apr. 14. Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant; or Frenchmen Sick of the Breed. 20. The Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonson. Tegg, 67. 24. Rural Sports. A Cat in a Bowl. No. 1. May 1. A Dog Fight. 1. Touch for Touch, or a Female Physician in full Practice. Tegg, 72. 4. Who's Mistress Now? Reprint, 1820. 16. The Bassoon, with a French Horn Accompaniment. Tegg, 75. A Two o'clock Ordinary. June 4. Summer Amusement, Bug Hunting. July 11. A Ghost in the Wine Cellar. Published by Rowlandson. 14. Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt. 14. Rural Sports, or an Old Mole Catcher. Tegg, 83. 31. The Huntsman Rising. (See 1809.) 31. The Gamester going to Bed. Pub. by T. R., 1 James Street, Adelphi. (See also 1809.) Aug. 20. Love Laughs at Locksmiths. 30. Masquerading. Tegg, 84. Sept. Accommodation Ladder. Tegg, 85. 12. Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart Ache. 20. Looking at the Comet till you get a Crick in the Neck. Tegg, 91. 25. Life and Death of the Race Horse. Tegg, 90. 29. Rural Sports. A Milling Match: Cribb and Molineaux. Tegg. Oct. 1. Rural Sports, Smock-Racing. T. Tegg. 2. John Bull at the Italian Opera. Des. and pub. by T. R., &c. (See Oct. 2, 1805.) Rural Sports; or a Game at Quoits. Rural Sports; or how to show off a Well-shaped Leg. Twelfth Night Characters, in 24 figures, by T. R. 3. Rural Sports; or a Cricket Match Extraordinary. Tegg, 96. 10. Six Classes of that Noble and useful Animal, a Horse.--The Race Horse. The War Horse. The Shooting Pony. The Hunter. The Gig Horse. The Draught Horse. 10. Distillers Looking into their own Business. Dinners Dressed in the Neatest Manner. Pub. by Tegg, 112. The Jockey Club, or Newmarket Meeting (111) (Betting Room). The Sagacious Buck, or Effects of Waterproof. Richmond Hill. After H. Bunbury. (See 1803.) French Inn. Do. Quaix de Paris. Do. A Country Club. Recruits. (See 1803.) Morning, or the Man of Taste. After H. Bunbury. Evening, or the Man of Feeling. Do. Conversazione. 25. A Trip to Gretna Green. T. R., 1 James Street, Adelphi. 25. Rural Sports: Balloon Hunting. Tegg, 157. 31. Cloisters, Magdalen College, Oxford. Nov. 25. English Manner and French Prudence, or French Dragoons brought to a Check by a Belvoir Leap. A Scene after Nature near Ciudad Rodrigo. Sept. 1811. Dec. 2. A Man of Feeling. Tegg, No. 126. 9. Bel and the Dragon. Pub. Stockdale. 15. A Milk Sop. Tegg, 125. Royal Academy. Somerset House. The Harmonic Society. (See 1810, Oct. 2.) Miseries of Travelling--A Hailstorm. Des. by H. Bunbury. A Tutor and his Pupil Travelling in France. Do. The Departure of La Fleur. Do. Exhibition 'Stare' Case, Somerset House. The Manager's Last Kick, or a New Way to Pay Old Debts. Tegg, 117. Preparing to Start. Pub. by Tegg, 118. Preparing for the Race. Awkward Squads Studying the Graces. Hiring a Servant. Tegg, 124. Anglers (1611). H. Bunbury. Rowlandson del. Anglers (1811). Do. do. Patience in a Punt. Do. do. A Templar at his Studies. Tegg, 76. A Family Piece. Des. by H. Bunbury. A Barber's Shop. Des. by H. Bunbury. Modern Antiquities. Chesterfield Burlesqued. Pub. by T. Tegg. 1811. 12mo. (See 1808.) Munchausen at Walcheren. 1812. Jan. 10. A Portrait. Duke of Cumberland. Pub. by Humphrey. 12. A Portrait. Lord Petersham. Humphrey. Feb. 6. Mr. Norman as the Sultan of Cashmere ('The Golden Fish'). Norman del., Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 10. Wet under Foot. Designed by an Amateur. Etched by Rowlandson. Humphrey. 26. A Portrait. Lord Pomfret. Humphrey. A Cat in Pattens. 28. Plucking a Spooney. Mar. 1. Catching an Elephant. Tegg, 146. 1. Description of a Boxing Match for 100 guineas a side between Ward and Quirk. Pub. by T. Rowlandson. 2. A Spanish Cloak. Tegg, 139. 20. Fast Day. T. R., 1 James Street. 25. Sea Stores. Tegg, 140. 25. Land Stores. Apr. 2. The Chamber of Genius. R. invt. and pub. Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool, And genius in rags is turned to ridicule.--_Juv._, _Sat._ 4. Bug-breeders in the Dog Days. 12. The Ducking Stool. (Republished.) (See April 12, 1803.) May 30. Italian Picture-Dealers Humbugging Milord Anglaise. Pub. by T. R., 1 St. James Street. 30. A Brace of Blackguards. Racing. Pub. by T. Tegg, 158. June 4. Broad Grins, or a Black Joke. July 14. Miseries of London: 'Watermen.' T. R., Adelphi. 14. Glow Worms. (See 1805.) Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. 14. Muck Worms. Do. The Rivals. July 15. A Seaman's Wife's Reckoning. Woodward del., Row. sculp. Pub. by Tegg, 275. 15. The Secret History of Crim. Con. Plate I. T. Tegg, 161. 15. Do. do. Plate II. Do. Aug. 29. Setting out for Margate. Tegg, 166. Woodward del., Row. sculp. 30. The Sweet Pea. Pub. by H. Humphrey, 27 St. James's Street. Oct. 1. Refinement of Language. A Timber Merchant, &c. Tegg, 171. 1. Bitter Fare, or Sweeps Regaling. 30. Raising the Wind. Pub. by T. R., 1 James Street. 'When Noblemen,' &c. Nov. 30. Christmas Gambols. The Successful Fortune-Hunter, or Captain Shelalee leading Miss Marrowfat to the Temple of Hymen. Hackney Assembly. The Graces, the Graces, remember the Graces. Orig. pub. 1802. 1812 (?) The Learned Scotchman, or Magistrate's Mistake. Tegg, 150. " Preaching to some Purpose. " New-Invented Elastic Breeches. " A Visit to the Doctor. " Puff Paste. " Mock Turtle. " Off She Goes. Pub. by Tegg. The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. First pub. in a separate form. With 31 illustrations by T. Rowlandson. Royal 8vo. Ackermann. " English Exhibitions in Paris; or, French People Astonished at our Improvement in the Breed of Fat Cattle. Petticoat Loose, a Fragmentary Poem. Stockdale. 4to. 4 plates by T. Rowlandson. Set of Views of Cornwall. 1813. Feb. 10. Bachelor's Fare. Bread and Cheese and Kisses. Tegg, 285. Sept. 1. Summer Amusements at Margate, or a Peep at the Mermaids. Tegg. 1. The Last Gasp, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms. Tegg, 210. 1. Unloading a Waggon. Tegg, 214. 1. None but the Brave deserve the Fair. Tegg, 231. 20. Humours of Houndsditch, or Mrs. Shevi in a Longing Condition. Tegg, 213. 20. A Doleful Disaster; or, Miss Tubby Tatarmin's Wig Caught Fire. Nov. 5. The Two Kings of Terror. A Transparency Exhibited at Ackermann's. The Allied Victory of Leipsic. 22. The Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony. Tegg, 232. 25. A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together. Tegg, 233. 27. The Corsican Toad under a Harrow. Ackermann. 27. The Execution of Two Celebrated Enemies of Old England and their Dying Speeches. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Nov. 29. Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug Returned with a Dutch Squeeze. Ackermann. 30. Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe. Tegg, 234. Dec. 4. The Corsican Munchausen Humming the Lads of Paris. Pub. by Ackermann. 6. Funking the Corsican. Pub. by Ackermann. 10. The Mock Phoenix, or a Vain Attempt to Rise again. Pub. by Ackermann. 12. Friends and Foes, up he Goes! Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Cloud. Ackermann. 14. Political Chemist and German Retorts, or Dissolving the Rhenish Confederacy. Ackermann. 14. Napoleon le Grand. Astre brillant, immense, il éclaire, il féconde, Et seul fait, à son gré, tous les destins du monde. Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods. Ackermann. 30. How to Vault into the Saddle, or a new-invented Patent Crane for the accommodation of Rheumatic Rectors. 1813 (?) Doctor Syntax, in the middle of a smoking hot political squabble, wishes to wet his whistle. Tegg, 209. Witches in a Hayloft. Tegg, 226. Business and Pleasure. Tegg, 272. (See 1810.) The Glutton. Pub. by T. Tegg, 274. " The Quaker and the Commissioners of Excise. Tegg, 276. " A-going! A-going! Newton del., Rowlandson sc. Pub. by Tegg, 291. " Giving up the Ghost, or one too many. Tegg, 292. Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat at Home for the Holidays. Tegg, 293. " The Cobbler's Cure for a Scolding Wife. Tegg, 294. " Cracking a Joke. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Tegg, 296. " Ghost of my Departed Husband, whither art thou gone? Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. Royal 8vo. Ackermann. Poetical Sketches of Scarborough. With 21 Illustrations by J. Green. Etched by Thomas Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Engelbach. Letters from Italy, 1809-13. Republished as 'Letters from Naples and the Campagna Felice.' 17 plates by Rowlandson. (See 1815.) 1814. Jan. 1. The Double Humbug, or the Devil's Imp Praying for Peace. Ackermann. 1. Death and Bonaparte. 1. Madame Véry, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris. R. sc. T. N., 348. 1. La Belle Limonadière au Café des Mille Colonnes. Palais Royal, Paris. 30. Quarter-day, or Clearing the Premises without Consulting your Landlord. Tegg, 310. Feb. 10. Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow Women Basting a Beadle. Tegg. 14. Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest. Rowlandson. Pub. by Tegg, 313. 20. A Tailor's Wedding. Tegg, 315. Mar. 1. Crimping a Quaker. Tegg, 317. Originally published as 261. 2. Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzic Fair. R. Ackermann. 12. The Devil's Darling. R. Ackermann. April. Arms of Napoleon Bonaparte, the Tyrant of France. Supported by Satan (French Devil) and Death. Pub. by R. Ackermann. The Hieroglyphic Portrait of Napoleon. Pub. by Ackermann. Do. do. Alexander. Do. 9. Blucher the Brave Extracting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound. T., 322. 12. Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox. Scene the Last. R. Ackermann. 12. Bloody Boney, the Carcase Butcher, left off Trade by Retiring to Scarecrow Island. Tegg, 323. 15. The Rogue's March. Tegg, 321. 16. A Friendly Visit. 17. The Affectionate Farewell, or Kick for Kick. Aker. 20. A Delicate Finish to a French (Corsican) Usurper. J. N. del., R. sc. Pub. by Asperne, Cornhill. 25. Nap. Dreading his Doleful Doom, or his Grand Entry into the Isle of Elba. Tegg, 328. May 1. The Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen, Europe is Free, England Rejoices. Ackermann. 1. Boney Turned Moralist. What I was, what I am, what I ought to be. Ackermann. 1. Irish Jaunting Car. Hull des., Rowlandson fec. 8. Peace and Plenty. Tegg, 324. 15. Macassar Oil, or an Oily Puff for Soft Heads. Rowlandson. Tegg, 316 (265). June 14. Miseries of London, or a Surly, Saucy Hackney Coachman. 20. Rural Sports, or a Pleasant Way of Making Hay. Tegg, 16. July 14. The Rivals. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, James Street. 14. Portsmouth Point, Tegg, 255. 23. The Naumacia to commemorate a Peace. (Aquatic Spectacle on the Serpentine). Sept. 5. The three principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion. 15. The Four Seasons of Love--Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. 20. Johanna Southcott the Prophetess Excommunicating the Bishops. Tegg, 341. 1814 (?) Rural Sports. Buck-Hunting. Pub. by T. Tegg. 1815. Jan. 1. Female Politicians. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Pub. by T. Tegg. Mar. 1. Breaking-up of the Blue Stocking Club. Tegg, 343. 1. Defrauding the Customs, or Shipping Goods not Fairly Entered. Tegg, 344. 1. Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates. W. del., R. sc. Tegg, 345. 1. Sailors Drinking the Tunbridge Waters. Tegg, 346. (Pub. as 242 originally.) 13. A Lamentable Case of a Juryman. Tegg, 347. Apr. 7. The Flight of Buonaparte from Hell Bay. R. Ackermann. Apr. 8. Hell Hounds Rallying Round the Idol of France. Rowlandson. Ackermann. N. D. Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur!! Vive le Diable!!! French Constancy. Rowlandson. Ackermann. 12. Scene in a New Pantomime to be Performed at the Theatre Royal of Paris. Rowlandson. Ackermann. 16. The Corsican and his Bloodhounds at the Window of the Tuileries looking over Paris. Rowlandson. Ackermann. May 10. The Carter and the Gipsies. Pub. by T. Tegg. June 1. Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo. Rowlandson. Ackermann, 101 Strand. July 14. Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt. 16. My Ass. Pub. by I. Sidebotham, 96 Strand. Desd. and etd. by T. R., verses by J. Yedis. (6 compts). Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve. 27. Transparency Exhibited at Ackermann's, in the Strand, Nov. 27, 1815. Day of Celebration of General Peace in London. A Journeyman Tailor. Neighbours. Pub. by Tegg, 235. 28. A Rare Acquisition to the Royal Menagerie. A Present from Waterloo by Marshals Wellington and Blucher. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 28. Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying-Speech, or Europe's Injuries Avenged. Rowlandson. Ackermann. 1815 (?) An Eating House. " Banditti. (See 1808.) " Virtue in Danger. " " An Unexpected Return, or a Snip in Danger. " " A Musical Doctor and his Scholars. " Slap Bang Shop. Jack Tar Admiring the Fair Sex. Accidents will Happen. Sympathy. Despatch, or Jack Preparing for Sea. Deadly-Lively. The Fort. Officer. The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome. 1815. 8vo. Lewis Engelbach. Naples and the Campagna Felice. 8vo. Reprinted from 'Repository of Arts.' Pub. by R. Ackermann. The Dance of Death. With Illustrations. 2 vols. royal 8vo. Ackermann. (See 1816.) Oct. The Grand Master, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan, by Quiz. 8vo. Pub. by Tegg. 1816. 1816. Jan. 10. Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Buonaparte's Carriage, taken at Waterloo. Ackermann. Mar. 31. The Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White, in the White Hall, City of Laputa. 1816 (?) Bostonian Electors of Lancashire. Pub. by W. Holland. World in Miniature. 8vo. Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome. 1816. (See 1815.) Figure Subjects for Landscapes, &c., &c. Groups and Views. R. Ackermann, 8vo. The Dance of Death. 2 vols. 1814-16. R. Ackermann, Strand. Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand Farquhar. 12mo. 1816. Frontispiece by Rowlandson. Pub. by T. Tegg. 1817. May 1. 24 Plates to 'Vicar of Wakefield.' Repub. 1823. The Dance of Life. Illustrated with 28 coloured engravings by T. Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Royal 8vo. (See 1821.) The New Sentimental Journal. Grotesque Drawing Book. 40 illustrations, 8vo. World in Miniature. 58 etchings. 4to. 1817. Pleasures of Human Life. 1817. 1818. Jan. 20. The Last Jig, or Adieu to Old England. Pub. by T. Tegg. The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy. By Alfred Burton. 8vo. Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork, with his Coat Buttoned Behind. Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites. 1819. May 9. A Rough Sketch of the Times as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett. Who Killed Cock Robin? (Manchester Massacre.) John Cahnac. 8vo. Female Intrepidity, or the Heroic Maiden. (Chap book.) Egyptian Hall. Mansion House. Freemasons' Tavern. 1820. 1820 (?) Chemical Lectures (Sir H. Davy). The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of Consolation. With 24 Illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson. Royal 8vo. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Rowlandson's Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders. 54 coloured plates. Intended as a Companion to the 'New Picture of London.' 12mo. 1821. May. A Smoky House and a Scolding Wife. Tricks on the Turf--Settling to Lose a Race. Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la Recherche du Pittoresque et du Romantique. 28 Illustrations drawn on stone (after the designs of Rowlandson) by Malapeau, Lith. de G. Engelmann. Paris. Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France. 18 plates after Rowlandson. 8vo. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1822. The History of Johnny Quæ Genus. The Little Foundling of the late Doctor Syntax. Royal 8vo. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature. 8vo. 17 views, in one volume (collected). The Third Tour of Doctor Syntax. In Search of a Wife. Royal 8vo., with 25 Illustrations by Thos. Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. May. Die Reise des Doktor Syntax, um das Malerische aufzusuchen. Ein Gedicht frei aus dem Englischen ins Deutsche übertragen. Lith. v. F. E. Rademacher, Berlin. Crimes of the Clergy. 8vo. Two plates by T. Rowlandson. 1823. March. The Guardian of the Night. Pub. by S. W. Fores. June 13. Not at Home, or a Disappointed Dinner Hunter. Pub. by John Fairburn, Broadway, Ludgate Hill. 19. An Old Poacher Caught in a Snare. R. inv. et sculp. Aug. 1. Hot Goose, Cabbage, and Cucumbers. The Tooth Ache, or Torment and Torture. Sept. 18. The Chance-seller of the Exchequer Putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries. Ackermann; also Fairburn, Ludgate Hill. C. M. Westmacott. The Spirit of the Public Journals for the year 1823. 3 vols. 8vo. Third Tour of Doctor Syntax. 1823. Royal 8vo. The three Tours of Doctor Syntax. Pocket edition, 3 vols. 16mo. Sept. Oliver Goldsmith.--'The Vicar of Wakefield.' 8vo. 24 illustrations by Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1824. Apr. 1. Interruption, or Inconvenience of a Lodging House. Reprint. (See 1789.) 1825. Nov. 19. Pie-us Ecstasy, or Godliness (the Itinerant Preacher's) Great Gain. Pub. by A. Bengo. Bernard Blackmantle. (Charles Molloy Westmacott.) English Spy. 2 vols. 8vo. Do. The Spirit of the Public Journals for the years 1823-4-5. (See 1823.) Posthumous. The Humourist, with 50 engravings, &c., after designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson. Published 1831. _ADDENDUM TO THE CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES._ The Editor has found it necessary to append a supplementary list of subjects which have been brought under his notice too late either to be arranged in the body of the present work, or even to be comprised in the general chronological summary; his attention being directed to these additional caricatures long after he had reluctantly arrived at the conclusion that it was hopeless to expect to render the foregoing classification more complete. In the Introduction to this review of pictorial satires by Thomas Rowlandson allusions will be found (vol. i. p. 4) to a noteworthy collection of his productions, both social and political, in course of formation by Mr. F. Harvey, of St. James's Street, the result of many years' vigilant activity in securing everything of consequence by the artist which happened to come into the print market, with comparative indifference to cost. The arrangement of this gathering, already amounting to twenty-three volumes, consisting entirely of excellent examples of the caricaturist's engraved works, has been proceeding coincidently with the preparation of the present volumes, and both selections have been brought as near to completion as is practicable at precisely the same time. The writer has the satisfaction of realising that the promise referred to in his preface, made by Mr. Harvey many years ago, has been redeemed before it is altogether worthless, as concerns his desire to supply a summary of the caricaturist's published productions as comprehensive as circumstances are likely to permit, to which much importance is attached from a collector's point of view. It must be acknowledged that the extensive accumulation in the possession of Mr. Harvey has contributed to this result, if at the eleventh hour; in his collection numerous examples of interest are found which have hitherto escaped the Editor's researches. Many of the titles set down in the body of the foregoing Summary and in the Addendum, drawn from the resources placed at his disposal by the kindness of Mr. Harvey, are in all probability perfectly novel to the majority of even experienced 'Rowlandson fanciers.' No date. A Counsellor's Opinion after he had retired from Practice. 1790. Croesus and Thalia. All Fours. Designed by H. Bunbury. Rowlandson sculp. Nov. 20. Satan, Sin, and Death. W. Hogarth invt. Rowlandson del. Dec. 1. A series of single-figure subjects, designed by Woodward and engraved by Rowlandson. A Smart. A Greenhorn. A Jessamy. A Choice Spirit. A Jemmy. A Buck. An Honest Fellow. A Blood. 1791. Mar. 1. The Pursuit. (Chase of a Highwayman by a _possé_ of horsemen.) A large and important subject. Companion to 'The Attack,' published contemporaneously, and described in vol. i. p. 289. Dec. 1. Returning from the Races. 1. Selling a Horse. 1. Modish--Prudent. (Another version of the pair of female figure subjects engraved 1787. See vol. i. pp. 220-1.) 1792. Jan. 1. A series of four large sporting subjects, figures in wooded backgrounds. Painted by George Morland, and engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. Partridge-Shooting. Pleasant-Shooting. Snipe-Shooting. Duck-Shooting. (Originally pub. in 1790.) July 18. The Paviour's Joy. Companion to 'The Chairman's Terror' (vol. i. p. 308). 1794. A Field Day in Hyde Park. Aquatinted by T. Malton. A large and important subject, evidently belonging to the same series as 'The English Barracks,' &c. (Aug. 12, 1791). See vol. i. pp. 294-5. 1795. Jan. 1. Billingsgate Brutes. 1797. Oct. 22. Glorious Defeat of the Dutch Navy, Oct. 10, 1797, by Admirals Lord Duncan and Sir Richard Onslow; with a view, drawn on the spot, of the six Dutch line-of-battle ships captured and brought into Yarmouth. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. 1798. Mar. 16. England Invaded, or Frenchmen Naturalised (Loyal Volunteers). Pub. by I. Harris. Apr. 3. A Return from a Visit. (After H. Bunbury.) May 15. Military Fly. (See 'Loyal Volunteers of London,' June 20, 1799, vol. i. pp. 375-7.) May 18. Rehearsal of a French Invasion, as performed before the Invalids, at the Island of St. Marcou, on the morning of ye 7 of May, 1798. Pub. by R. Ackermann. June 1. Soldiers Attending Divine Service. (The Invasion Panic and Volunteer forces.) Aug. 8. Smuggling In--Smuggling Out. (See 1810.) 18. The Miller's Love. Sept. 3. Sadler's Flying Artillery. (See 'Loyal Volunteers of London,' June 20, 1799, vol. i. pp. 375-7.) Oct. 9. Fraternization in Grand Cairo, or the Mad General and his Boney-party likely to become tame Mussulmen. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 17. Erin-go-Bray. The Allied Republics of France and Ireland. Pub. by S. W. Fores. Nov. 1. Effects of British Valour on the French Directory. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 1799. Jan. 20. A Magic Lantern. Merke sculp. Mar. 1. Cries of London. Pl. 7. Old Clothes. (See 'Cries of London,' vol. i. pp. 354-6.) 20. Fast Day. Pub. by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Aug. 1. Change Alley. No. 1. Waddling In. (See 'Waddling Out,' vol. i. p. 366.) Horse Accomplishments.--A Vaulter. (See 'Horse Accomplishments,' vol. i. p. 366.) 30. Country Characters. Republished 1800. (See vol. ii. pp. 13, 14.) Oct. 1. Matrimonial Comforts. Republished 1800. (See vol. ii. pp. 14-16.) 28. Sailor and Banker, or the Firm in Danger. (See 'A Note of Hand,' vol. i. p. 369.) Dec. 20. The Monkey Room in the Tower. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Connoisseurs of Art. Slaverers. O Tempora, O Mores! S. Alken fecit. 1800. Jan. 1. Preparing to Start. (See vol. ii. p. 222.) The Race and the Course. Companion. Buck's Beauty and Rowlandson's Connoisseur. Pub. by W. Holland. 21. Titlepage to series of twenty subjects. LE BRUN TRAVESTIED, or Caricatures of the Passions. Designed by G. M. Woodward. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Pub. by R. Ackermann. No. 3. Admiration. ('Hatred or Jealousy' should be numbered 19. See vol. ii. pp. 1, 2.) Aug. 15. Shaving a Forestaller. The Tinker. Swinging. 1801. Jan. 15. A Mahomedan Mousetrap. Companion to 'Symptoms of Sanctity.' (See vol. ii. pp. 27-8.) April 1. Public Characters. A group of portraits arranged behind a lattice or window-frame. Woodward del. Rowlandson sculp. Oct. 12. John Bull in the year 1800.--War. John Bull in the year 1801.--Peace. Pub. by R. Ackermann. Nov. 15. A British Seaman.--A Heart of Oak. Market Place, Cambridge. 1802. May 1. Plate 6. School of Honours. 'A Compendious Treatise on Modern Education.' ('The Stages of Man's Schooling.' See vol. ii. p. 47.) July 1. Manager (Garrick) and Spouter. Republished. Bookseller and Author. Republished. (See 1784). One Tree Hill. Greenwich Park. 1803. May 1. The Easter Hunt. Designed by H. Bunbury. Pub. by R. Ackermann. The City Hunt. Ditto, ditto. Nov. The Trumpet and the Bassoon. (See 1811.) A Trip to Gretna Green. (See 1785.) 1804. June 30. A Dismounted Light Horse Volunteer. Woodward del. Rowlandson sculp. 1805. Apr. 28. The Political Death and Last Will and Testament of Johnny Macree. Pub. by T. Rowlandson. (See series of satires upon the impeachment of Lord Melville, vol. ii. pp. 49, 50.) May 25. A Sailor's Marriage. Woodward inv. Rowlandson sculp. Pub. by R. Ackermann. (Companion to 'A Sailor's Will.' See vol. ii. p. 51.) July 28. The Blessings of Partnership. Designed by Woodward. Rowlandson fec. Nov. 25. A Sailor in a Stable. Dec. 3. A Sailor's Observations upon the lamented Death of Lord Nelson. Designed by Woodward. Rowlandson del. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 9. The Brave Tars of the 'Victory,' and the Remains of the lamented Nelson. Designed by Woodward. Rowlandson del. Pub. by R. Ackermann. 11. The French Admiral on board the 'Euryalus.' 1806. Apr. 16. The New Property Tax paying his Respects to John Bull. 20. A Brace of Brimstones. (See 'A Cake in Danger,' vol. ii. p. 58.) May 1. The Poacher. (See 'A Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire,' vol. ii. pp. 58, 59.) June 23. Political Terriers Hunting the Property Tax. (See satires upon the Grenville and Fox Administration, vol. ii. pp. 58-61.) 1807. July 14. The Rivals. Oct. 9. The Honeymoon. Miseries of Human Life. House Cleaning. Pull'd Turkey. Collar'd Pig. Companions to 'A Calf's Pluck' and 'Rusty Bacon.' (See vol. ii. pp. 80-2.) 1808. Aug. 23. Horrid Visions, or Nappy Napp'd at Last. Woodward del. Rowlandson sculp. Nov. 1. Notice to Quit, or a Will of their own. (See caricatures against Bonaparte, vol. ii. pp. 92-102.) Pub. by Tegg. A Musical Doctor and his Scholars. Pub. by Reeve & Jones. (See 1815.) The Unexpected Return, or the Snip in Danger. Ditto. (See series of plagiarisms from Rowlandson's drawings. Pub. by Reeve & Jones. Vol. ii. pp. 90, 91, 297.) 1809. Feb. 23. St. Valentine's Day, or John Bull Intercepting a Letter to his Wife. Pub. by Tegg. (Parody of the Duke of York's letters to Mrs. Clarke. 'Yorkshire Hieroglyphics,' pl. 1, March 8, 1809.) Mar. 3. Farmer Blunt's Apology. (Satire on 'The Delicate Investigation.') (See Rowlandson's caricatures upon the 'Clarke Scandal,' vol. ii. pp. 135-162.) Apr. 17. Dr. Donovan. ('Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York,' &c. See Chronological Summary, 1809.) 21. Connoisseurs. (A plagiarism.) Pub. by Reeve & Jones. (See 1799.) Portsmouth Breeze. 28. A Visit to the Synagogue. May 26. This is the House in Gloucester Place. Plate 1. Do. do. do. " 2. (The York and Clarke Scandal. See 'The Delicate Investigation,' vol. ii. pp. 135-162.) July 18. An Old Catch newly revived. 'York and Clarke Scandal.' (See 'The Delicate Investigation,' vol. ii. pp. 135-162.) APPENDIX APPENDIX. ADDITIONAL SOURCES OF REFERENCE UPON ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES. CATALOGUE OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Further information is open to enquirers who are interested in tracing the works of the caricaturist. The important catalogue of the satirical prints and drawings in the British Museum, now in course of publication, will include all the examples found in that institution, if the Trustees decide to continue it beyond the limit originally settled (about 1770). The preparation of the catalogue in question, which has been placed in the hands of probably the very ablest authority on the subject of satire who has ever lived, is of necessity a work of time. The elucidation of the earlier graphic satires has occupied years of patient industry, by which alone the social and political pictorial 'skits' could be made intelligible--an undertaking which the lapse of time annually makes more complicated as regards the interpretation of those lighter trifles of bygone times, which, in spite of their triviality, often possess an historical value, unintelligible to the majority of students, because hidden away in the obscurity of allusions beyond the vision of the present generation. The task of tracing and explaining the intentions of the graphic satirists, commenced by Mr. Edward Hawkins, original owner of an immense collection of their works, is being continued and successfully carried out for the Trustees of the British Museum by Mr. Frederic George Stephens. The catalogue, an important contribution to the history of the subject, has, as we have said, already been years in hand, and is slowly but surely advancing through the comparatively lost paths of the past. A new light has been thrown upon the satires of the times of the Tudors, the Stuarts, the Commonwealth, the Restoration, the accession of the Prince of Orange and of the House of Hanover. The results of the editor's painstaking researches are completed and open for consultation up to the conclusion of the Hogarth period; the notices upon the works of the great luminary of the school, which are included in the volume published in the present year, will be found of so thoroughly exhaustive a character, that the interest generally felt in Hogarth is likely to be increased, especially as a considerable amount of entirely new and curious matter has been discovered by Mr. Stephens in the course of his investigations. CATALOGUE OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Div. 1. Political and Personal Satires. Prepared for publication by Frederic George Stephens, and containing many descriptions by Edward Hawkins, late Keeper of the Antiquities, F.S.A. Printed by order of the Trustees. With an introduction by George William Reid, Esq., Keeper of the Prints and Drawings in the British Museum. * * * * * A selection of subjects, treated by Rowlandson with more freedom than is consonant with the taste of the latter half of the nineteenth century, is also given by PISANUS FRAXI, in his elaborate and exhaustive work CENTURIA LIBRORUM ABSCONDITORUM (1879). Pisanus Fraxi has set down (pp. 346-398) descriptions of over one hundred and twenty subjects of more or less erotic tendency. The major part of the etchings included by this authority are of necessity inadmissible in the present work, owing to their licentious suggestiveness; but a few of the subjects described in the 'Centuria Librorum Absconditorum,' restricted exclusively to social caricatures by Rowlandson, the originals of which maybe consulted in the Print Room and Library of the British Museum, are also instanced in the foregoing pages. * * * * * ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY T. ROWLANDSON IN THE PRINT ROOM OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Blood Royal. Duke of Cumberland, with spyglass, followed by his footman. A back view of the Prince Regent, shown in the distance, talking to some officers. A Drunkard. An inebriated figure has fallen, in a state of partial insensibility, on his back, in a spirit-cellar, leaving the liquor running; a stout and by no means elegant female, of evidently Dutch construction, is trying to bring the toper to consciousness by the use of a birch-broom. The Trout Fisher Rising. Rowing for the Coat and Badge. A Prize Fight. Domestic Tranquillity. Portsmouth Harbour, 1816. Landscape (in Gainsborough's manner). A Market Town in Cornwall. A Continental Scene, 17th century. Lady in coach, running footman before; piazza in distance. Landscape in Cornwall. 'Putting up Horses.' A country scene. Portrait of George Morland, full length, standing before a fireplace in a well-appointed apartment. (About 1787, when Morland was living in considerable style at a handsome new house, the corner of Warren's Place, Hampstead.) The person of the artist is carefully studied, and the items of his dress are most characteristically noted, this being the time of Morland's most marked foppishness. Guildhall Association. Portrait of a Lady. A Beau and his Chronometer. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON IN THE POSSESSION OF GEORGE WILLIAM REID, ESQ., KEEPER OF THE PRINTS AND DRAWINGS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. View of a Castle. View near Bridgport, Dorsetshire. View in Devonshire. * * * * * WINDSOR CASTLE. THE ROYAL COLLECTION. An English Review. Purchased by George IV. A French Review. Ditto. * * * * * ORIGINAL WORKS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON IN THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. (COLLECTION OF WATER-COLOUR DRAWINGS OF THE ENGLISH SCHOOL.) The Parish Vestry, 1784. Bequeathed by William Smith, Esq. Brook Green Fair (about 1800). Bequeathed by William Smith, Esq. The Elephant and Castle Inn, Newington. The gift of G. W. Atkinson, Esq. * * * * * DYCE COLLECTION, SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. Landscape. 11 × 8. A roadside inn, where three officers have stopped for refreshment; one is seated by his mistress and gives alms to a beggar woman; another, likewise seated, is absorbed by the bottle and wine; the third is standing at the door and using his eyeglass. Signed 'T. Rowlandson, 1784.' Engraved in this work. See _Benevolence_, vol. i. p. 316. View on the Thames off Deptford, with a large number of vessels near the Dockyard. 16 × 10. Men who have been bathing scramble into a boat on the left, very near the holiday parties which are passing to and fro. Hampton Bridge, on the left; boats on the river, two of which are pleasure ones; a stout old fellow is on the left, with his wife on his arm, and a long pipe in his mouth. 16 × 10. Hampton Court Palace. 16 × 10. View of the open space in front, with a carriage and four horses, and its military escort, leaving the gate; a carter with horses on the left, and, on the right, four idle fellows amusing themselves by teaching a dog to 'beg.' Signed 'Rowlandson,' and dated 1820. Landscape. 16 × 10. Timber waggon drawn by eight horses crossing a bridge, which spans a rapid stream struggling between high rocks; cottages are on the left, one by the roadside, and another on the hill. Portsmouth Harbour.[29] 13 × 8. Lord Howe's victory: the French prizes brought into the harbour. The people assembled on the ramparts cheering, a group in front scrambling to get possession of the top of a wall. Signed 'Rowlandson.' Portsmouth Harbour. 17 × 11. A repetition of the last, with numerous additional figures introduced, and more highly finished than the other. Signed 'Rowlandson,' and dated 1780. Exterior of Strawberry Hill. 14 × 9. A gouty old gentleman, his wife and dog, promenade near the walls; another old fellow either enraptured by a glance of the building or making love to two servant-girls who look over the wall. A donkey braying across the fence to the left. Landscape, with a large flock of sheep browsing on downs, and guarded by a young shepherd, whose wife is working at his side; a dog is looking at him. 9 × 5. Bridge at Knaresborough, Yorkshire. 13 × 9. 'The World's End' inn on the left, and the landlord directing persons in a cart, who have probably stopped for refreshments. Signed 'Rowlandson,' and dated, 1807. 'Sir Henry Morshead felling his timber to settle his play debts.' 9 × 5. Three men chop and fell trees, a fourth takes instructions from a soldier on guard; a parson stands near. Signed 'Rowlandson,' and dated 1816. St. Austell, Cornwall. 9 × 5. View, looking up the principal street, the church in the distance; groups of persons in the foreground are scrutinised by a hairdresser who stands at his door. Kew Palace. 16 × 11. Seen across the river; a boatman steadying his boat for three stout persons to enter it; two ladies already apparently occupy all the spare room; other pleasure boats are on the water, some with sails. Landscape. 15 × 11. An approach to a village across a bridge, a woman carrying a bundle; a horseman and other figures are in the foreground. Museum of Ancient Paintings in the Palace of Portici, near Naples. 8 × 5. Three gallants, including two military officers, attend a young lady; her father is behind, accompanied by the custodian. _Vide_ 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' 1815, _ante_, pp. 301-2. Glastonbury, Somersetshire. 9 × 5. View, up the principal street, with a church in the distance; a carriage, with post-horses at full gallop, frightening a woman riding on a donkey near; women gossiping while getting water at the conduit. The subject etched by the artist as plate 24 of 'Rowlandson's World in Miniature,' No. 2, 1816. 'Betting Post.' 8 × 5. View on a racecourse. A crowd of ruffians on horseback surround a man who is about to read a list of the names of the favourite horses, but is interrupted by the impatience of his companions, whom he endeavours to prevent riding over him; a gouty old fellow, also on horseback, carries his crutches with him. Engraved in this work. See description, vol. i. p. 257. ILLUSTRATIONS TO 'THE TOUR OF DR. SYNTAX IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE.'[30] Dr. Syntax pursued by a bull. 7 × 4. Syntax, still trembling with affright, Clung to the tree with all his might. Vol. i. p. 40. Dr. Syntax drawing from Nature. 7 × 4. The Doctor now, with genius big, First drew a cow, and then a pig. Vol. i. p. 121. Dr. Syntax at a card party. 8 × 4. The comely pair by whom he sat, A lady cheerful in her chat.--Vol. iii. p. 163. The remainder of the series appear to have been designed for the work, but not etched nor used as suggestions to Mr. Combe, excepting those noted. It may not be generally known at the present time that the Tours were written to elucidate the designs, which the following introduction fully explains: 'This second tour is, like the former one, a work of suggestions from the plates by Mr. Rowlandson, though not with such entire reserve as the first. Some few of the subjects may have been influenced by hints from me; and I am willing to suppose that such are the least amusing of them.'--_Introduction to the second volume_, 1820. Dr. Syntax--unable to pull up at the Land's End--is fearful of being carried to the World's End. 10 × 7. View on the coast during a storm, with the vivid flashes of lightning frightening the people, and the heavy waves dashing on the shore. Dr. Syntax taking wine with a lady in a drawing-room, while the daughter of his hostess and her lover exchange caresses on a rustic seat under the verandah. Dr. Syntax thrown off his horse while hunting. 7 × 8. Your sport, my lord, I cannot take, For I must go and hunt a lake.--Vol. i. p. 108. Mr. Combe no doubt thought it as well, although availing himself of the hint that hunting was not suited to the Doctor's taste, to mention the fact of the Doctor being asked to join the sport, and his declining the invitation, as he was about to make some drawings on the lake. Dr. Syntax leading a lady to the entrance of a grand mansion: most probably giving the idea of the Doctor escorting Lady Bounty from the garden to her mansion on their first interview. 9 × 5. For while he sojourns he will be The object of all courtesy.--Vol. ii. p. 217. Dr. Syntax gazing at some ruins; a man and boy in attendance. 8 × 4. One plate was probably thought sufficient to illustrate 'Sketching the Ruins, and Tumbling into the Water,' through his seat giving way, the latter one being used. But now, alas! no more remains Than will reward the painter's pains. Vol. i. p. 71. Dr. Syntax in the Jail; a young fellow and three dogs on the left. 7 × 4. Boarding a Man-of-war. 8 × 5. A boatload of people awaiting their turn to ascend a rope ladder, on which a gentleman of the party is fixed in rather an uncomfortable position. _Vide_ 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' 1815, _ante_, pp. 301-2. Dr. Syntax frightened by the appearance of a large fish having a form resembling that of a whale; his companion and some fishwives are also greatly alarmed, and a few of them lie sprawling on the ground. 8 × 4. Dr. Syntax drawing the waterfall at Ambleside, while his man Patrick is eating voraciously. 8 × 5. Bold sketches from the very scene Where, with his neighbours, he had been. Vol. ii. p. 64. A Lady repulsing with the poker her guests, consisting of eight gentlemen, among whom is the Doctor; her dog by her side appears to be equally pugnacious. 8 × 5. Dr. Syntax riding and chatting with a lady, under an avenue of trees; a footman behind them. 8 × 5. Dr. Syntax playing at cards with a young lady; an old wooden-legged officer seated near, apparently not in the best of tempers; three other young ladies seated on the sofa take much interest in the game. 8 × 5. Dr. Syntax gently opens the door of a garret, and is horrified to find a woman of the _pavé_ reclining back in her chair dead; a dog is seen on the left playing with her wig. 8 × 4. Dr. Syntax skating and saluting three ladies who stand on the bank of the frozen river. 8 × 5. * * * * * The following drawings by Thomas Rowlandson, with several engravings of his London views, already described under the accounts of his prints in this work, were exhibited (1879) in the western portion of the Exhibition Galleries, South Kensington, in the valuable and interesting series of VIEWS OF LONDON AND WESTMINSTER. COLLECTED AND EXHIBITED BY JOHN GREGORY CRACE, ESQ. Entrance to Blackwall Docks, 1801.[31] Perry's Dock, Blackwall, 1801. View of the Reservoir in the Green Park, looking south (towards Westminster), 1810. * * * * * Original drawing of Brooks's Subscription Room, in the possession of HENRY BANDERET, ESQ. BROOKS'S CLUB. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON IN POSSESSION OF W. R. BAKER, J.P., ESQ., OF BAYFORDBURY PARK, HERTFORD. At Bayfordbury Park--where, it will be remembered, the celebrated collection of the Kit Cat Club, a national gallery of portraits, by Sir Godfrey Kneller, of the most interesting character, has its home--the choice examples of Rowlandson's skill appear to have been secured by the family at one time, and that at what may be considered the artist's best period--a little before the production of _Vauxhall Gardens_, and the series contributed to the exhibitions of the Royal Academy. The Bath Coffee House. A highly amusing interior, representing the various fashionable characters to be met with on the Great Bath and Bristol Road a century back. Rustic Scene. Carters' horses watering. Scene outside a Lodge in a London Park, crowded with animated groups of folks of _bon ton_, as they might be seen disporting themselves in the fashionable resorts, where the 'best company' of the day was to be encountered in 1785. The Waggoner's Halt. Sailors Soliciting Charity. A party of Rodney's 'old salts,' disabled, and reduced to appeal to charity; a model of a ship-of-war is dragged about on wheels to attract the attention and sympathies of the passers-by. French Barracks, 1786. A highly finished example of one of Rowlandson's most famous subjects (exhibited at the Royal Academy, 1787). It probably preceded the exhibited drawing, since it is executed on a somewhat reduced scale to that of the engraving. A full description of this admirable design is given under the list of subjects belonging to 1791 (Aug. 12). Death and the Apothecary. This subject is drawn in Rowlandson's most careful method. In the writer's opinion it is one of the earliest examples of the artist's finished works which have come under his attention, and is probably of the same date as the _School of Eloquence_, mentioned under 1780, which, as he has noted, has suffered at the hands of the anonymous etcher. Death, as a grim skeleton, is intruding into the apartment of an invalid by the window; the patient has armed himself with a gruelspoon to ward off this sudden attack from the unassailable foe, while a corpulent apothecary, standing in ambush behind his client, has snatched up a gigantic syringe, which he is pointing, by way of a great gun, at the bony framework of the ghastly actor who has dropped in to complete the quack's handiwork and snatch away a profitable customer. The whole of the background is worked out like a fine etching, in a fainter line than the figures, much in the style which distinguishes the etchings of Mortimer. Hertford Market Place (market day). This view of the old county town of Hertford is one of the finest and most interesting of those drawings which Rowlandson has left of the quaint towns of his day. It is altogether of an important character, being nearly 30 inches in length. It represents the Town Hall, the market-place, and certain picturesque ancient houses, faced with carved scroll-work, which front the corner hard by. The traveller will find these buildings exactly as Rowlandson viewed them a century ago; and, on a market-day, he will see the dealers' stalls, the country people busying themselves about their purchases, and the gentry passing or riding by, called to the town on local affairs, in some respects the same as a century ago. This scene, animated in itself as it is presented in our day, falls very far short of the prospect the artist has preserved, for the antique costumes have disappeared; and, comfortable as may be those of the generation who occupy themselves on the spot, the attractions found in the caricaturist's picture are looked for in vain; for the light flowing robes, the hats and feathers which aided the winning graces of the fair, the nodding plumes, and the scarlet and gold of the military bucks, the rustling silk cassocks, shovel-hats, and full-bottom wigs of the Church dignitaries, and all such characteristic accessories of the scene, no longer display themselves to assist the observer's sense of the picturesque. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON. (COLLECTION OF W. T. B. ASHLEY, ESQ., DECEASED.) The Faro Table at Devonshire House. 1797. Bricklayers' Arms on a Race Day. Rape of the Sabines. Nymphs of King's Place. Prize Fight between Cribb and Molyneux. Portrait of a Pugilist. Tilbury Fort. The Stile. Windy Weather. Female Portrait. 'Thus, whatsoever course we bend, at every mess we find a friend.' Exhibition of Baboons at the Tower Menagerie. Going from Market. Rag Fair in 1802. The Punch Bowl, or the Loving Cup, with Commodore Regaling. (Grog on Board.) The Peasant Girl and Amorous Dignitary. Village, with old Inn and Church. Market Day. The Coal Hole. (Figures eating oysters, drinking punch, &c.) The Family Supper. The Sick Man, surrounded by his Family. Napoleon, on his return from Elba, Surveying Paris from the Window of the Tuileries. The Old English Drinking Club, with effects of alcohol after free libations to Bacchus. 1798. The Mischievous Urchin and the Blind Fiddler. Man Selling Images. Man Selling Fowls. Man Selling Cakes. (Cries of London.) An Enthusiastic Itinerant Preacher: the Adventures of Thomas Wildgoose. The Town Crier. Mutual Recriminations, and Plymouth Dock. The Oyster Wench. The Pic Nic. Anatomical Lecture. The Chelsea Stage Coach. The Squire's Kitchen. Barrow Women Basting the Beadle. Militia Meeting. Drawing from Life at the Academy. 'Given to my old friend, John Thomas Smith.' Nymphs Bathing. Satyr and Nymphs. Nymphs and Tritons. Scene at a Steeple Chase. Figures Carousing, Death in Waiting. (Deadly-lively.) Milk Seller. The Unsuspicious Husband. An Artist Painting a Portrait. Villagers Dancing to a Fiddle. Interior of a Church during a Sermon. William Hill, the Blind Sexton at Cambridge. The Burglars. Sale by Auction of Old Materials at Westminster; with view of the Abbey and old houses. Greenwich, with view of the Old Salutation Tavern. The Studio. Bathing. Sitting out a Long Sermon. The Milkmaid. The Old Commodore, Admiral Paisley. Harlow Bush Fair. Rooks Waiting for Pigeons. Posting in Scotland. Posting in Ireland. Saving the Old China from Fire. Hunting Party, with Hounds, at the door of an Inn. Funeral Ceremony. Group of Soldier and Sweetheart. An Auctioneer. Specimens of Comparative Anatomy, and Illustrations of the Pythagorean Doctrine. (A series.) Peace and Plenty. How to get rid of a troublesome Customer. A Catchpenny. Interior of an Eating House. The Vicar Removed. Delineations of the Passions and various phases of Character. (A series.) Teetotal Feast. Monkey Island. Scene by the River. The Magic Lantern. Village, with Procession of Dignitaries of the Church to the Tavern. Drunken Pensioner in a Critical Position. Mrs. Sturt and her Pupils. Stock Jobbers. Sepulchres. Domestic Jars. Cranbourn Alley. The Gourmand. Nobleman Cutting down his Timber to Pay his Debts of Honour. Tax Gatherers. The Reading Room. Evening Party. Leaving Home. Wayside Inn. Parties at an Inn-door. The Post Chaise. Apothecary's Shop. The Old Gentleman and his Young Wife. Groups of Human Heads. (A series.) The Broken Pitcher. Jupiter and Leda. Tender Appeal. Petition. Skating Scene. Wrestling Match. Balloon Hunting. 'We three Cunning Dogs be.' [Illustration: THE APPARITION.] Three Dignitaries of the Church. The Special Pleader. Scene in the Opera. Horns to Sell. Selling the Elixir of Life. The Meat Market Evacuated, or the Sans-Culottes in Possession. Flea-Catching. A Turk and a Tartar. Neapolitan Tricks. Interior of a Pawnbroker's Shop. A Scold. The Shipwreck. Robbing the Miser of his Gold. The Bachelor's Bitter Cup. The Vicar at Dinner. The Old Husband and Young Wife. The Apothecary's Shop. Death at the Mortar. Selling Signor Puffado's Sauce à la Russe. Portsmouth Point. A Woolcomber at Work. Elopement from School. The Hurdy-Gurdy Player. Connoisseurs Looking at a Picture. An Old Hag Looking out of Window, with a Cock and Breeches Below. An Elderly Lady at her Toilet, holding a Rose and viewing herself in a Mirror, &c. Good News--Bad News. A Pig's Whisper. A Waiting Maid's Insinuation. Scene with Highwaymen. Halfway House. Mishaps. One Tree Hill, Greenwich Park. Rural Recreation. Cottages near Buckingham. The Laboratory. Money-Changers. Nuns at Devotion. Nuns at a Window, Selling their Wares to Admiring Cavaliers. ('Pastime in Portugal.') Launceston, Cornwall, an Auction Proceeding. Sea Coast, with Fishermen. Eating Oysters, a First Course. Market Day. Landscape, with Figures Dancing before a Country Alehouse. Skittle-Playing, &c. Landscape, with Sportsmen and Cottage. View on the River, 1791. Sketches of Two Female Figures. Rural Courtship. The Old Debauchee Carried to Bed. The Unequal Match. Hulls of Men-of-War Ready to be Launched. 'Sculls? Oars?' The Market-Mishap. Landscape, with Monks at Devotion. Farm-shed: Children at Play. The Sick Patient, the Doctor, and the Enraged Wife. Divinities and Divines. Surgeon and Apothecary. Mrs. Grant's Bagnio. Watchmen Taking an Unprotected Female to Prison. Country House. Figures at Table. Dr. Accum Lecturing at the Surrey Institution. Funeral Procession from a Country Mansion. The Old Bailey during a Trial. Departure of a Bride and Bridegroom in a Post-Chaise. Levée Day at St. James's--Going to Court. Hull of a Man-of-War. Interior of a Kitchen--Family at Dinner. The Apparition. Blacksmith's Shop. Old Alehouse Door. Clearing the Premises without Consulting your Landlord. 'Be cautious upon what you fix your affections, and withdraw your neck from the yoke.' The Old Commodore. The Apothecary in Adoration. Heads of Doctor Gosset, Governor Wall, and Doctor Gall, 'drawn by T. Rowlandson, and given to his old friend, Mr. John Thomas Smith.' ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON IN THE POSSESSION OF THE EDITOR OF THE PRESENT VOLUMES. The Tuileries at Paris. A Celebration at the Great Room of the 'Crown and Anchor' Tavern. Love and Dust. Large Landscape--View in Wales: Fishing, Netting, &c. Summer Amusement, or a Game at Bowls. Large Classic Landscape--Water Nymphs, &c. A Press Gang. Dissolution of Partnership, or Striking a Balance. _Une Bonne Bouche!_ (A Titanic gourmand with an entire sucking-pig impaled on his fork.) A Turk and a Tartar (the Tartar in this instance being a high-spirited nymph, a flower-girl). A Cry for a Cat. (A beadle going round with his bell, &c.) A Travelling Princess, and an Indifferent Ambassador. (Caroline of Brunswick, &c.) Sortie from a Levée. New Flora. Awkward Attendant--'Hints to Footmen.' (On the reverse the sketch of 'a Masquerade.') Private Amusement--Noble Science of Boxing. 'Nobility and Gentry taught.' Fashionable Beauties. (A pair of Nymphs of St. James's.) A Nincompoop, or Henpecked Husband. Ram Inn at Newmarket--Card-Sharpers and Countrymen. [Illustration: SORTIE FROM A LEVÉE.] A Little Tighter. Sly Boots. The Apparition. How to Treat a Refractory Member. A Finishing School. Luxury and Avarice. Lust and Desire. 'The Vicar of Wakefield.' 'The Vicar of Wakefield': The Family Picture. The Old Bailey. Hunting Scene in a Park. A Park--Horses and Figures. View of Clifton. Garden Pastimes. Rocky Landscape:--Bathers at a Stream. Hussar taking Refreshment at a Cottage Door. John Thomas Serres. The Husband of the Princess (The 'Princess' Olive of Cumberland). Miseries of Reading and Writing:--'Losing the post when you would as willingly lose your life.' Syrens Catching a Porpoise. Rag Fair, 1801. Landscape Scene. A Mad Dog in a Dining Room. (See 1809, page 133.) Clifton from the Heights. [Illustration: A TOAD-EATER.] The Quay. A Shipping Scene. Greenwich Geese. A Wild Landscape. A Toad-Eater. Incantations. The Dolphin Inn. Bob Derry of Newmarket. Buy my Strawberries. An Old Sinner. Stolen Kisses. The Highwayman betrayed. A Prize Fight. Contrasts: The Long and the Short of it. A Clockmaker's Shop. A Neapolitan Ambassador. (Lady Hamilton, &c.) Seeking among the Slain after the Fall of Troy. Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack shaking hands with Mynheer. Playing Tricks upon Travellers; or, Disturbed by Sham Spectres. Veteran Topers. A Jew Family. Lethargy. A Nun of Winter's Sisterhood. The Butterfly Fancier on the Wing, or the Tulip Fancier's Flower Beds Sacrificed. Pair of Female Figures. Smoking a Customer. Preparing to Start. Landscape, Sea-Shore, Boat-Building. Monmouth. Entrance to the Town of Carnarvon, Wales. 1804. Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. Cottage in Devonshire. Lord Fitzwilliam's seat near Malton, Yorkshire. 1803. Oxford Jockeys, or the Landlord in Trouble for his Cattle. [Illustration: SMOKING A CUSTOMER.] Dutch Market Women landing at the Brill. View on the Maeze, Holland. Dock Head. Yarmouth, in the Isle of Wight. Market Place at Yarmouth, Norfolk. Mode of Travelling in Holland. Travelling in Germany. Travelling in the Prussian Dominions. The Market Place, Dusseldorf. View of a Post House in the Emperor of Germany's Dominions. Inn Yard at Cologne. Brighton Downs. Blackheath. View of the Thames from Blackheath. Diana in the Straw, or the Squire, a treat for the Quornites. Trying on her Mistress's Clothes, or a peep into the Kitchen. 1801. The Castatrophe, or Crash to the Grandmother's old China. A Visit from Houndsditch to Pall Mall. Admiral Nelson recruiting with his brave Tars after the Battle of the Nile. Views of Oxford and Cambridge:-- North View of Friar Bacon's Study at Oxford. View of Oxford Castle. View of Queen's College, Oxford. A View of the Theatre, Printing House, &c., Oxford. Inside View of the Cupola in the public Library. Merton College and Chapel, from the First Quadrangle. Merton College. Oxford. A Western View of All Souls' College. Oxford. The Libraries and Schools from Exeter College Gardens. A South View of the Observatory. Oxford. St. Peter's House. Cambridge. Trinity College. Cambridge. King's College and part of Clare Hall. Cambridge. View of Jesus College. Cambridge. Trinity College and Library, and part of St. John's College, Cambridge. Views in Cornwall, Devon, &c. View on Bodmin Downs. Cornwall. Hamethothey Mill. Cornwall. Hengar House, near Camelford, the seat of Matthew Mitchell, Esq. Cornish Cottages. Corn-mill in Cornwall. Cornish Scene. Collecting the Tythes. Liskeard Moors. Cornwall. St. Columb. Cornwall. St. Kew Church near Wade Bridge. Cornwall. View near Bodmin in Cornwall. Treelile House, North Cornwall. Cottage, near Landhearn. Cornwall. The Barrow Sands. North Coast. Cornwall. Stone Bridge. Cornwall. Hengar Woods, near Camelford. Cornwall. Hengar Woods. (Another view.) Cottage on the Router Moor, near Camelford. Cornwall. Vicarage of St. Udy, near Bodmin. Cornwall. Stone Bridge. Cornwall. Shipwreck. Cornwall. Monastery. Cornwall. Near Truro. Cornwall. View of the Convent at Landhearn, near St. Columb. Cornwall. The seat of Lord Arundale. Cottage in Cornwall. Old Buildings. Cornwall. Roadside and Bridge. Cornwall. Cottage near Launceston. Cornwall. The Disbanded Soldier. Camelford Cattle Fair. Cornwall. Cottage. Devonshire. Near Plymouth. A Travelling Tinker. View at Fair Point. Plymouth. View near Taunton. Somersetshire. Taunton Vale. Somersetshire. A Wheelwright. Devonshire. Country Carpenters. Devonshire. Near Conway. North Wales. Falls, Conway. North Wales. Wells. Bath. Bath Races. Pump Room. Bath. The Bath. Bath. City of Norwich. Ouse Bridge. York. York Cathedral. Entrance to the Town of York during the Races. Views on the Thames:-- Richmond. Town Hall and Market Place at Kingston-upon-Thames. Mr. Zoffany's House at Chiswick. Greenwich. Near Pyrfleet. Fishing House at Chertsey. Hampton Bridge. Hampton Wick. Near Richmond. Near Datchett. Near Bray. The Waggoner's Rest. Moonlight. War time. Gun, Horses, and Ammunition. Embarkation of Troops for La Vendée. Troops on the March; convoying Stores. The Surrey Fencibles dispersing the Rioters in St. George's Fields. June 13, 1795. Embarkation of Cavalry. Troops on the March; Bag and Baggage. Waggoners. The Passage Boat. The Serenade. Hunting Morning. Market Day at Aberystwith. Camp-followers. Near Lewes. Sussex. Disasters of the Streets. Chairmen in a Dilemma. Coach in a Slough. A Coach Wrecked. Turks. Returning from a Country Party. The Smithy. A Showery Day. Fireside at an Inn. A Bar Parlour. Devotion. Rag Fair. Pair of Views. Concerto Spirituale. The Dog Barber. La Francia. The Village Barber. An Unwelcome Visitor. New Shoes. Shot at a Hawk. Scene at Newmarket. Sunday Morning at Cambridge. Visit to the Camp. Patience in a Punt. A Town-bred Brat. 1802. A Wayside Meeting. College Service. Stock Jobbers. Loan Contractors. The Propagation of a Lie (in three slips). The Pleasures of the Country, or returning from a Visit across a Muddy Road. A Snug Rubber, or Playing for the Odd Trick. Making a Bowl of Punch. Old Age, Condolence on Crutches. Saved. Drowned. Jerry Sneak and Mr. Sullen. A Henpecked Husband. Scene from 'King John.' _Arthur._ Let me not be bound. Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive those men away. A Flat between two Sharps. Outside a Billiard Room. 1803. A Journeyman Tailor. Green and Large Cucumbers. The Dancing Bear; or, the Graces, the Graces, remember the Graces! Counsellor Humbug, or Guardians of our Property, here and hereafter. Quaker Courtship. Waiting for the Movement of the Spirit. Methodists broke Loose. Market Place, Richmond, in Yorkshire. Green Man near Nottingham. 1803. View of Nottingham. The Meal in the Shade. Labourers at Rest. Near Canterbury. Officers Holding a Review. Fish Market at Brighton. The Rising Sun. Halt at an Inn. Putting off to Sea. A Breezy Day. Cabin of a Man-of-War. Drinking a Toast. A Cottage Scene. Washing Day. Pigs Feeding. Exeter Gaol. A Man-of-War. Devon. Lincoln. Market Day. The Golden Fleece. View of Stamford, Lincolnshire. Cattle at a Waterfall. The Royal Oak. Country Courtship. Near Honiton. Devonshire. Farm Yard near Honiton. Devonshire. Sunday Morning. Returning from Work. The Waggoner's Inn. Waterside Inn. 'The Boatman's Rest.' Resting beside a Barn. Carnarvon Castle Gate. The Windmill. The Sailor Saved. Near Beverley. 1803. Ships Unloading. Driving Home Cargo. View of the River Itchen, near Southampton. Southampton Waters. Carisbrook Church and Castle, Isle of Wight. Soldiers Drinking. Troops stopping to Refresh on their Road to Join the Camp on Barham Downs. Aug. 20, 1799. Returning from a Race. Cottages and Park. The Road to the River. Waggon and Horses Climbing a Hill. Saturday Night. Repose from Toil. The Wounded Soldier. 1804. Horsemen Drinking outside an Inn. Newgate. Morning of an Execution. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON. (COLLECTION OF THOMAS CAPRON, ESQ., ARUNDEL HOUSE, RICHMOND.) Mr. Capron's selection contains numerous subjects from the collections of Lord Farnham and the late W. T. Ashley, Esq. Besides being the owner of a very fine selection of the best prints after Rowlandson, many of considerable size, value, and importance, (for the loan of several choice examples, which are both rare and difficult to obtain, the writer begs to record his grateful acknowledgments to the fortunate possessor;) Mr. Capron has also collected quite a gallery of original drawings; among the number are some truly capital examples. The titles of a selection from the numerous subjects are as follow. (See also the collection of the late Mr. Ashley.) French Barracks. Cries of London. Plymouth Dock. Street Musicians. Portsmouth Point. The Love Letter. Grog Aboard. The Female Volunteer. Relief from Hard Study. Hen and Chickens. Late Hours at Mrs. Sturt's. Temptation. A Snooking Kenn. _Fiez-vous à Filles_: Stripping a Cully. Illustrations from _Johnny Quæ Genus_. Waiting on a Lady of Fashion. Unpleasant Reflections. State Pledges. Matrimony. (_Dance of Life._) The Cobbler's Method. A Domestic Scrimmage. 'The Long wished-for Day come at Last.' All Souls. Beyond a Joke. Nuns at Devotion. Snow-balling the Blackamoor. Concert à la Catalini. Money Bags. A Golden Shower. Westminster Abbey. A Levee, St. James's Palace. Presence Chamber, St. James's Palace. Stock Exchange. Brewers' Horses. Arrival of the Post Boy. Epsom Downs, or More Downs than One. 1816. John Bull stuck in a bog in France. Jean Crapaud run away with in England. The Laboratory. A Duck. 1823. Humours of a Rustic Inn. The Club. The Coal Hole. The Cock Tavern, Fleet Street. Mutual Recriminations. Dragging the Pond. A Pic-Nic. The Social Day. 1812. Dinner at the Fair. Althorpe Wells, Discovered by Queen Anne's Physician. Leaving Home. Clearing the Premises without Consulting your Landlord. A British Tar, and Charitable Feelings. Trying to Move a Jew. Jew and Gentile, or Old Clothes and Doll Tearsheet. A Superannuated Beau. Ballet Master at the Opera House. A French Noble in his Shooting Dress Sketched at Boulogne, 1778. First September, Trying the Sight. Introducing a Pigeon to a Hazard Table. William Cussons, Shaver. John Street, Adelphi. The Walking Stewart, an Eccentric Character. Dirty Work, Levee Day, or Court Ceremony. Katharine and the Tailor. A Banker's. (The Spider's Web). A Ready Money Customer. A Banker's. (The Wasp). A Discount. A Lowland Family. Putting a Husband to Bed. Old Cronies. Recruiting. The Ménage. Billiards. Lost and Won. Red Wins. Saving the Old China from Fire. Posting in Ireland. Posting in Scotland. French War. Interior of a French Prison. (An Abbey.) A Cooper. A Farrier. Travelling Savoyard. An Itinerant Showman. Bear, Monkey, and Performing Dogs. Innocent Cause. The Magic Lantern. A Galantee Show. Sham Fits. 1802. Deadly-Lively. Doctor Graham's Cold Earth and Warm Mud Bath. Volunteer Foot. Westminster Light Horse. Admiral Paisley--'The Tough Old Commodore.' Why, the bullets and the gout Have so knocked his hull about That he'll never like the sea any more! Rent Day. A Light Piece. An Apothecary. A Ridotto. A Pastoral Piper. A Fresh Graduate. Pomona, or Ripe Fruit. Life Academy, Somerset House. T. Rowlandson. With inscription by the Artist: 'Given to my old friend Smith.'[32] The Graces. Nicolas Poussin: Venus, Mars, and the Loves. Bellona. An Apotheosis. Prometheus. Nessus and Dejanira. Acis and Galatea pursued by Polyphemus. Etruscan Frescoes. Venus and Cupid. Neptune discovering Venus to the Tritons. Pan and Syrinx. Tritons and Nereids. Doctor Syntax and the Bees. 'Doctor Primrose Preaching to the Prisoners,' and numerous illustrations to the 'Vicar of Wakefield.' The major part of the Illustrations to 'The Dance of Life,' and a few Examples of the Designs for 'The Dance of Death.' Pair of Large Hunting Scenes. Diving Belles. The Introduction. Mrs. Sturt's. Mrs. Sturt and her Pupils (from Mr. Ashley's Collection). Tuileries Gardens. Stowe Gardens. Richmond Hill. THE FOLLOWING DRAWINGS HAVE ALSO COME UNDER THE EDITOR'S ATTENTION. A Tailor's Wedding. The Unwelcome Intruder. (1803.) The Rival Butchers. The Cobbler. The Fishmonger. Animal Magnetism: the Centre of Attraction. The Alchemist. The Pavior's Joy. The Clamorous Tax-gatherer calling on the Doctor. The Old Admiral. Apples! a Street Cry. Alms. An admiral (with a wooden leg) and his family relieving an invalided old sailor. Mrs. Shevi in a Longing Condition (for a Little Pig). Chevalier D'Eon at Angelo's Rooms. 'Angelo's Fencing Academy, also the Broadsword Exercise, Boxing, &c. Terms for Fencing, Lessons, &c.' Washing in the Highlands. A Butcher's Shop. COLLECTION OF JOHN COLE STOGDON, M.A., ESQ., 18 CLIFFORD'S INN. This gentleman, amongst a rich gathering of drawings, caricatures, and social satires, has secured numerous good examples of prints executed by Rowlandson, including the rare series of the 'Stages of Man's Schooling' (1802). We have to instance a spirited drawing by the caricaturist, which is in the possession of Mr. Stogdon: 'Forbidden Fruit.' FIGURE DRAWINGS AFTER THE OLD MASTERS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON, IN THE COLLECTION OF COLONEL GOULD WESTON, THURLOE SQUARE. Venus: Carlo Marratti. Venus: Bouchér. Nymph Surprised by Satyr: Gerard Lairesse. Diana and Hunter: Gerard Lairesse. Diana and Nymphs: Giulio Romano. Leda and Swan: Giulio Romano. Venus Arranging her Hair: Andrea del Sarto. Venus and Cupid: Andrea del Sarto. Venus and Cupid: Palma Vecchio. Lucretia: Andrea del Sarto. Venus and Mars: Pietro de Cortona. Rape of the Sabines: Polidore. Leda and Swan: Canache. Venus and Man Playing Guitar: Titian. Susanna and Elders: Guercino. Venus Sleeping--back exposed: Guercino. Zulieka and Joseph: Domenichino. Venus and Loves: Domenichino. The drawings mentioned above, like most of the caricaturist's fluent renderings of subjects after the Old Masters, are far removed from mere copies or servile imitations, being, in actual fact, free adaptations of the works in question, strongly characterised with the individualities of Rowlandson's style. Colonel Weston, in addition to this unique series, possesses a collection of original drawings by the artist, which includes, among numerous interesting examples of varying importance, one of Rowlandson's most graceful and finished drawings, worked out with a taste and delicacy altogether remarkable. The subject is a domestic scene, introducing two charming figures (likenesses in all probability) executed after the style of the portrait of Morland (mentioned in the first part of this work, now in the Print Room, British Museum, see p. 412), and evidently executed at the same period. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON. (COLLECTION IN THE POSSESSION OF JOHN WEST, ESQ., BAYSWATER.) R. Moser, R.A., Keeper of the Royal Academy. A serious portrait, boldly executed, both outline and shadows put in with a reed pen, in the manner of Mortimer. Evidently a sketch made from life when Rowlandson was an Academy student. Colonel O'Kelly taking a Private Trial previous to his Making a Match. (See Racing Series, 1789: The Betting Post, The Mount, &c.) Race-horses arriving for a Spring Meeting. The Gambler Going to Bed. (See pp. 208-210). Congregation Leaving a Chapel. 1820. A large drawing, crowded with figures. (See collection belonging to William Bates, Esq.) 'As You Like It,' act ii. scene 7: Fifth Age. (Engraved.) The collection of Shakspearean subjects drawn by Rowlandson to illustrate the 'Seven Ages of Man' is in the possession of General Sir Henry de Bathe, Wood End, near Chichester. An Anatomical Lecture. The Morning Toilette. A fashionable beauty holding a _levée_ under the hands of her perruquier. The Morning Meal.-- The cup that cheers but not inebriates. The Tuileries Gardens, Paris. A small sketch for the larger drawing. (See collection in the Editor's possession.) An Out-of-door Scene in Paris. (Companion.) A Squabble in St. Giles's. The Awkward Servant. (See collection in possession of the Editor.) Horse-Racing: Introducing a Novice to a spirited Mount. Mrs. Clarke and the York Shop. Mrs. C. receiving bribes as a commission agent. 'Tis woman that seduces all mankind. Also in the collection of Thomas Capron, Esq.-- Portrait of a Foreigner. Portrait of an Old Gentleman. The face of this figure may be a caricatured representation of the artist's appearance late in life. Portrait of an Old Lady. An Equestrian Military Portrait. (German officer.) Portrait of a Quaker. Looking at a Procession in the Park. An Allegorical Design. Carisbrooke Castle. Hunting Scene. The Thames at Twickenham. The Social Day. Interior of Exeter Cathedral (during sermon time). View in the Environs of London. Continental View, in Rowlandson's early manner (a cloister). Yeomanry Cavalry Refreshing at an Inn. Cattle Watering. Scene at a Seaport. Chatham: View of the Medway and Men-of-war; Troops and Military Train riding along the shore. Waterside Scene, near a port on the South coast; Passengers landing, &c. Views of Cornwall, Devonshire, Somerset, &c. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOS. ROWLANDSON IN THE POSSESSION OF JOHN CHESTER, ESQ., OF OLD SQUARE, LINCOLN'S INN. Toilette of an Antiquated Belle. A large and fine drawing, after the school of the old masters. The Village Festival. Figures dancing in a ring on the green, skittle-players, &c. Important subject, somewhat in the manner of Teniers the Younger. Interior of a Pawnbroker's Shop. 'The Last Shift' (engraved and published November 1, 1808). Taste, or Milord Anglais and Italian Picture-Dealers. (Engraved 1812. See p. 234.) A Scold.-- A smoking chimney, and a scolding wife. A Breezy Day. Death at the Door. An upright subject, earlier than the series entitled the 'Dance of Death.' An Old Miser and a Young Wife. An Old Woman and her Cat at a Window. Original frontispiece to the collected series of 'Miseries of Human Life.' Designs for illustrations to the 'Dance of Death.' The Squire. The Shipwreck.-- The dangers of the ocean o'er, Death wrecks the sailors on the shore. ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOS. ROWLANDSON IN THE POSSESSION OF A. H. BATES, ESQ., EDGBASTON, BIRMINGHAM. An Old Soldier's Widow. 6 × 5-1/2 inches. A Fat Man and Death. 5 × 4. The Widower's Consolation. 6 × 4-1/2.-- Two bores all at once have taken a trip: I've buried my rib, and got rid of the hip. Woman on a rock by a stormy sea, on which is an empty boat, &c. 7 × 4-1/2. Doctor Syntax at a Bookstall. Folio. (Engraved on a reduced scale in the 'Humourist,' by W. H. Harrison.) A Nobleman Cutting Down his Timber to Pay his Debts. 10 inches in length. A sheet of grotesque heads formed of vegetables, &c. Death and the Glutton. Large 8vo. Exterior of a Public House. 8vo. Sepulchres. 8vo. Doctor Eady and his Patients. 8vo. Execution Dock. 5 × 6. The Old Blind Sexton. Folio. Three figures seated at table; one said to be the portrait of Hamilton, the artist. 8vo. The Milkmaid's Tempter. 5 × 4. Drawing-room scene. Milliner displaying a dress. Numerous figures, probably designed as frontispiece for a magazine of fashions. Domestic Jars. 9 × 4 in. Man and woman quarrelling; the former seated in a chair, with a large bass-viol beside him. LIST OF ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON IN THE COLLECTION OF WILLIAM BATES, ESQ., B.A., M.R.C.S, &c., BIRMINGHAM.[33] 'Cornish Peasantry.' 10-1/4 × 6-1/2. Five peasants, admirably grouped, seated on a sort of timber-cart, drawn by two oxen. Woody background. Signed 'Rowlandson.' Acis and Galatea. 8-1/2 × 6. Apollo and Daphne. 8-1/2 × 6. Companion to the above. A vigorously-drawn recollection of the antique. The Cottage Door. 11-1/2 × 8-1/2. A group of rustics seated at the door of a cottage. On the right hand a man with a donkey laden with vegetables. In the manner of Morland. 'The Road to Ruin.' 13-1/2 × 9-1/2. The young squire is seated at a round table, with his mistress on his knee. Opposite to him is a 'led-captain,' dealing out cards and inciting the squire to bet. In the centre, standing at the table, is a plethoric chaplain, wholly intent upon the manufacture of a bowl of punch, the ingredients for which he is pouring simultaneously from two bottles into the bowl. The complete absorption of each of these personages in his own special object is admirably depicted. Brentford Market Place. 17-1/2 × 12. An admirable drawing, exhibiting hundreds of market-people disposed in groups, with the Town House in the central background and the 'Three Kings' inn on the right hand. The grouping is excellent, the scene full of animation and bustle, the sense of space and general keeping perfect, and the whole equal in power and effect to the works of the Dutch painters. Shepherd and Sheep. 17-1/4 × 4-1/2. A standing figure in the middle of a group of five sheep; something in the manner of Gainsborough. The Funeral. 7 × 4-1/2. The parson advances, reading the burial service. Next comes the clerk, carrying a child's coffin, and followed by a group of female mourners, wringing their hands, holding handkerchiefs to their eyes, and some carrying umbrellas. To the right a female gravedigger, holding a spade in one hand and tolling the bell with the other. To illustrate the old song of 'The Vicar and Moses':-- When come to the grave the clerk humm'd a stave, Whilst the surplice was wrapped round the priest; When so droll was the figure of Moses and Vicar, That the parish still laugh at the jest. Singing tol de rol, &c. An Oriental Scene. 8-1/2 × 5-1/2. In the foreground a gibbet, from which is hanging in chains the headless body of a woman. By the side an impaling-stake and wheel. Two men in foreign garb are looking on. In the distance a city, with towers and minarets. 'The Industrious Wife and Idle Husband.' 5-1/2 × 4. The wife is busily engaged at the washtub; a cradle, with twins asleep, at her back; while the husband, with pipe, glass, and jug, sits over the fire with a boon companion. Full of Hogarthian humour. Burglars Alarmed. 11 × 9-1/2. A drawing of extraordinary vigour. A brutal-looking ruffian, in a frieze coat, holding a bloody knife in one hand and enjoining attention with the other, is striding over the corpses of two women, both with their throats cut. A second ruffian, with alarm depicted on his countenance, holds a candle in his right hand and grasps a bloodstained coal-hammer in his left. In the background a fate is seen peeping through a window. A piece that can hardly be looked at without a subsequent attack of nightmare. Landscape. Lake scene, hilly background. 9 × 7. Very broad in treatment. Commodore Trunnion and Lieut. Hatchway on their way to the Wedding. 14-1/2 × 8. (See Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle,' vol. i. chap. 8.) Jolly Companions. 11 × 8. A group of five, heads and shoulders. A man is apparently singing from a ballad-sheet. A woman at his right hand is blowing with the bellows, and the other faces are on the broad grin. The Pipe Dance. 4-1/2 × 3. Two Punch-and-Judy-like figures dancing, and holding a pipe over head. Small, but very spirited. The Forge. 9-1/2 × 6-1/2. A group of four horses outside a forge. The blacksmith holds up the hoof of one; the farmer stands by, and a woman advances holding a cup of ale. Signed 'Rowlandson, 1791.' As fine as Morland. Maternal Solicitude. 6-1/2 × 4-3/4. A mother bends over her child on a couch, both entirely nude. Nymph and Cupid. 7-1/4 × 5-1/2. A naked nymph recumbent; a winged cupid, bow in hand, descends towards her. Henpecked Husbands. 10 × 6-1/4. A woman has hold of the greatly elongated nose of her husband in one hand, and belabours him with a whip in the other. On the left a group of women toss a husband in a blanket, and on the right a wife is thrashing her husband on the ground, whom she also holds by the nose. Death in the Pot. 6 × 3-1/2. A plethoric figure drinks from a bowl, while a skeleton figure is about to strike him from above. Zion Chapel. 13-1/2 × 8-1/4. A congregation of over fifty persons, who have just emerged from the portal of 'Zion Chaple' (_sic_), are passing slowly along. The door is blocked up by the departing worshippers; a fish-woman standing by indulges in some ribald observations, and a pious old lady holds up her hands in horror. The Table d'Hôte. 13-3/4 × 9. A spirited and characteristic drawing, exhibiting a numerous company of both sexes seated at a dinner-table. French waiters, pig-tailed and nightcapped, are drawing corks, filling glasses, and flying to and fro with dishes, &c. One of the guests is teaching a dog to beg; a woman and girl, with tambourine and triangle, appear on the left to amuse the company. Interior of a Prison. 9-1/2 × 6. From the collection of the celebrated Henry Angelo, the professor of fencing, who in his 'Reminiscences' (vol. ii. p. 324) gives an account of its production. Rowlandson, it appears, had been robbed one night, and went next day in search of the thief. 'We first repaired,' says the reminiscent, 'to St. Giles's, Dyott Street, and Seven Dials. In one of the night-houses four ill-looking fellows, _des coupes-jarret_, so attracted our attention that, whilst we sat over our noggins of spirits, as he (Rowlandson) always carried his sketch-book with him, he made an excellent caricature group of them for me, introducing a prison in the background.... He afterwards finished it for me in his best style, superior to the greater part of his works. This is now (1830) about forty years ago. The coloured drawing was once included in my collection.' Here we have the four thieves sitting and lying in various positions. Prisoners in another group are playing cards. Another ruffian is stretched at full length asleep in the foreground. The drawing, grouping, and colouring are alike admirable, and would have done honour to Salvator Rosa. 'The Miser Lying in State: the Prodigal Heir-Apparent.' 14 × 9-1/2. The 'heir-apparent,' with his profligate companions, male and female, is seated at a table, on which we see a punchbowl, &c. A coffin occupies an elevated position in the background, and from it appears to be struggling to emerge the supposed defunct miser, while an allegorical figure above seems to be nailing down the lid. The Fire. 9-1/2 × 6. On the right a house on fire, flames issuing from the windows, the doorway crowded with watermen, and persons carrying out bedding and other effects. On the left firemen manipulating the hose and directing the stream against the flaming windows, in ridiculously suggestive attitudes. The central figure is an enormously fat woman, whose night-dress, drawn up to support a mass of crockery, displays her _Rubensesque_ and redundant charms to the watermen, who turn their grinning faces to gaze upon the spectacle. 'Leaving the Premises without Consulting the Landlord.' 11 × 8-1/2. A cart, seen at the back, heaped up with furniture, occupies the centre. A woman on the left laden with gridirons, warming-pans, &c. On the right a girl, graceful as one of Stothard's female figures, places in the cart a birdcage. In the foreground miscellaneous articles of minor furniture, and two children playing with the house-cat. Outside the Court-House. 14-1/2 × 10-1/2. The scene is apparently the Magistrate's Court and the Town Hall in some county town. The ground in front is crowded with various individuals waiting for the cases in which they are interested to be called on. We see the farmer, the parson, a jockey, a huntsman, a footman, a butcher, a soldier, an actor, and many others. The beadle is seated on a step, making love to an old woman, who holds a tankard in her hand. Dogs are scattered about, attendant on their masters. Interior of Eating-House. 7-1/4 × 5. A dining-table, at which are seated some seventeen people, male and female. One of the guests, a stout, portly man, has left the table, and is seizing his hat, as if offended. A neighbour attempts to restrain him, while the waiters appear amused. Bridewell. 9 × 6. A procession of fifteen female prisoners are escorted through the courtyard of Bridewell from one department of the prison to another, in pairs, in charge of turnkeys, female warders looking on. Penitence, grief, and hardened impudence are admirably depicted on the several faces. Returning from a Voyage. 9-1/2 × 6. A sea beach, with a schooner and sloops at anchor. A boat has just landed a group of passengers, among whom is a girl with a cockatoo on her wrist. Pickaback. 4-1/2 × 3-1/2. A man, carrying a woman on his back, is fording a brook. Picture Exhibition. 9 × 5-1/2. Connoisseurs at an exhibition of pictures. Gaming House. 9 × 5-1/2. A drawing similar to that which serves as frontispiece to the 'Beauties of Tom Brown.' Nymphs Bathing. 8-1/4 × 5-1/4. Eight female figures, entirely nude, sporting in a stream, or seated on its banks. Leafy background. Nymphs Attiring. 8-1/4 × 5-1/4. Five female figures, entirely nude, seated on the banks of a stream, dressing their hair. The Village Politicians. 15 × 9-3/4. Dated 1821. FOOTNOTES: [29] _Vide_ Biography, vol. i. p. 67. [30] See account of the _Three Tours of Dr. Syntax_, _ante_, pp. 176, 247-252. [31] Another version of the drawing, in the possession of the Editor, reproduced (p. 20) as 'The Quay,' in the introductory biographical sketch to this work. [32] Antiquity Smith, Author of the 'Life of Nollekens;' once Keeper of the Prints and Drawings, British Museum, &c. [33] See _George Cruikshank: the Artist, the Humourist, and the Man, with some account of his brother Robert. A Critico-Bibliographical Essay_. By William Bates. B.A., M.R.C.S.E., &c., Professor of Classics in Queen's College, Birmingham; Surgeon to the Borough Hospital, &c., with numerous illustrations by G. Cruikshank, including several from original drawings in the possession of the author. Houlston and Sons, 1879. Also _The 'Fraser' Portraits. A Gallery of Illustrious Literary Characters_ (1830-1838), drawn by the late Daniel Maclise, R.A., and accompanied by Notices chiefly by the late William Maginn, LL.D. Edited by William Bates, B.A., &c. Chatto and Windus, 1874, 4to. INDICES. INDEX OF NAMES, PERSONS, &c. Ackermann, Rudolph (Rowlandson's publisher), i. 85, 89-93 Ackermann's _Poetical Magazine_, i. 33 Addington, Hon. H., 'The Doctor,' i. 246 Alexander, Emperor of Russia, ii. 281, 294 Angelo, Henry, 'Reminiscences,' i. 55, 64-6, 68, 70-2, 78-9, 85, 87-8, 287, 298-300, 374; ii. 5 Angelo's Fencing Rooms, i. 241 Angelo and Rowlandson at Vauxhall, i. 62-3, 156 -- and Son, Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise, i. 374 -- Henry, his sketch of Simmons, the Murderer, ii. 81 Anstey, Christopher, 'Comforts of Bath,' i. 333-49 Arnold, General, i. 173 Atkinson, Christopher, i. 143-4 Auckland, Lord Eden, i. 173 Austria, Emperor of, ii. 281 Austria, Crown Prince of, ii. 281 Banco to the Knave (Gillray), i. 106 Banks, Sir Joseph, i. 192 Bannister, the Comedian, a Collector, i. 70; ii. 248 -- John, the Comedian, an Art Student, i. 53-4 Barrymore, Lord, i. 58, 161-2, 303 Bate, Dudley, of the _Morning Post_, i. 159 Bates, William, B.A., 'Sketch of Rowlandson's Works,' 'Essay on George Cruikshank,' ii. 379 Bedford, Duke of, i. 359 Bell, Dr., ii. 216 Beresford, James, ii. 178 Billington, Mrs., i. 158 'Black Dick' (Lord Howe), i. 199 'Blackmantle,' Bernard (pseudo), i. 43; ii. 375, 378-9 Blair, Doctor Hugh, i. 198 Blucher, Prince von, ii. 278-9, 280-1, 293-5 'Book for a Rainy Day,' J. T. Smith, i. 70 Borowloski, Count, 'The Polish Dwarf,' i. 186 Bossy, Doctor, ii. 5 Boswell, James, i. 193-8 Boswell's 'Tour to the Hebrides,' i. 84, 193-8 Buonaparte, the Emperor Napoleon, ii. 42-3, 45, 47, 52, 54, 61, 82-3, 93-102, 130, 159, 162-3, 187, 203-4, 255, 258-64, 271-2, 276-82, 289, 291-3 -- Joseph, King of Spain, ii. 95-6, 98-101 -- Louis, King of Holland, ii. 97, 258-9 Buonaparte's Generals, ii. 291 Brightelmstone in 1789, i. 277 Britannia, 117, 136, 141-2, 247; ii. 6 Buckingham, Marquis of, i. 243 Bullock, Proprietor of 'Bullock's London Museum,' ii. 309 Bunbury, Henry, the Caricaturist, i. 61, 78-80, 369 -- the Caricaturist (illustrated biographical sketch of his life by Joseph Grego), i. 3 -- Henry, Caricaturist (Gambado's 'Annals of Horsemanship and Academy for Grown Horsemen'), i. 352-3; ii. 101-15, 217, 221-3 Burdett, Sir Francis, i. 359; ii. 74, 181-2, 184, 365 Burke, Hon. Edmund, i. 112, 118-19, 220, 245, 248, 274, 289; ii. 13 Burton, Alfred, 'Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy,' ii. 363-4 Bute, Lord, i. 141 Butler, S., ii. 174, 198 Camden, Lord, i. 244 Canning, George, verses on 'All the Talents,' ii. 69 Canning, George, ii. 166 Carmarthen, Marquis of, i. 244, 248 Cartright, Major John, i. 121 Castlereagh, Lord, ii. 166 Catalini, Madame, ii. 165 Catharine, Empress of Russia, i. 290 Chambers, Sir William (architect of Somerset House), ii. 217 Charles the Fourth, King of Spain, i. 290, 292; ii. 94 Charlotte, Queen, i. 110, 199-210, 220, 228, 230, 252, 290 Chatham, Lord, i. 244 -- General, ii. 164, 166 Chattelier, Miss (Rowlandson's aunt), i. 52, 63-4 Chiffney (jockey to the Prince of Wales), i. 207 Clarke, Mrs. Mary Anne, ii. 135-64, 166, 181 -- Scandal, The, i. 28; ii. 135-64, 181 Clavering, General, ii. 143 Coleraine, Lord, i. 180, 220, 229. (_See_ Hanger) Collections of Rowlandson's drawings, i. 5. Appendix Collings, the Caricaturist, i. 82-4, 191, 193 Combe, William, ii. 247, 268, 317-55, 359-62, 271-2 -- -- (author): 'The Three Tours of Doctor Syntax,' ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 'The Dance of Death,' ii. 317-15 'The Dance of Life,' ii. 359-62 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus,' ii. 371-2 Corbett, Thomas, High Bailiff for Westminster, ii. 140, 153-4 Cornwall, Views in, ii. 56 Cross Reading (Whiteford's), i. 84 Cruikshank, George, caricaturist, i. 16-19 Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 225 Curtis, Commodore, ii. 163-4 Davy, Sir Humphrey, ii. 366 Derby, Lord, i. 359 Devonshire, Duchess of, i. 124, 126-9, 131-2, 135, 141-2, 152, 158; ii. 59 Didelot, dancer, i. 283 Don Carlos, ii. 94 Duncannon, Lady, i. 135, 141, 158 Dundas (Lord Melville), i. 121, 134, 243-4, 246; ii. 49-51, 60, 136 Dundas, Sir David, ii. 137 Dunthorne, James, i. 226-7, 314 Elliot, Right Hon. Hugh, English Minister at Dresden, ii. 311 Engelbach, Lewis, 'Letters from Italy, or Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 English Caricaturists, i. 2 'English Spy, The,' by 'Bernard Blackmantle,' i. 43 Erskine, Lord, i. 112, 359 'Farquhar,' Ferdinand (pseudo), 'Relics of a Saint,' ii. 317 Ferdinand of Spain, ii. 93 Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' ii. 55-6 Fitzgerald, Mr., i. 161 Fitzherbert, Mrs., i. 170, 220, 226, 248, 276 Fox, Hon. Charles James, ii. 49, 58-61, 109, 112-13, 116-17, 119, 123-7, 129, 131-5, 138-43, 154, 221, 231-2, 245, 248, 270, 359 Fox, General, i. 117 Frederick the Great, i. 182-3 French Ambassador, The, i. 147 Gambado, Geoffrey (pseudo Henry Bunbury), 'Academy for Grown Horsemen,' i. 352-3 -- -- 'Annals of Horsemanship,' i. 352; ii. 102-15 George the Third, i. 115, 119, 140-1, 182-3, 199-210, 220, 228-9, 248, 251-2, 290, 360; ii. 6, 59, 82, 196 Gillray, the Caricaturist (his life, works, and times, by Joseph Grego), i. 3-4, 54, 106, 143, 229, 242, 328; ii. 197, 223 Gloucester, Duke of, i. 328 Goldsmith, Oliver, 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' ii. 356-9, 375 Gordon, Duchess of, i. 126, 152 Grafton, Duke of, i. 244, 246-8 Grattan, i. 250, 362 Grego, Joseph: 'An Illustrated Biographical Sketch of Bunbury, the Caricaturist,' i. 3 'The Works of James Gillray, with the Story of his Life and Times,' i. 3-4 'A Collection of Drawings by Rowlandson.' Appendix Grenville, i. 244 -- Lord, ii. 59 Guise, General, his collection of pictures at Oxford, ii. 66 Hadfield. Attempted the life of the King, ii. 6 Hamilton, Sir William, Ambassador at Naples, ii. 311-13 -- Lady, ii. 311-13 Hanger, George, i. 180, 220, 229. (_See_ Coleraine.) Harrison, W. H., 'The Humourist,' ii. 380-6 Hartley, Mrs. (actress), i. 160 Hastings, Warren, i. 226, 230 -- Marquis of, ii. 299 Haydon, B. R., ii. 378-9 Heath, James, i. 85 -- -- letter to, written by the Caricaturist, ii. 48 Hebrides, Boswell's Journal of a Tour in the, i. 193-8 Heywood ('Old Iron Wig'), i. 70 'Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing,' by J. P. Malcolm, F.S.A., i. 73-6 'History of Caricature and the Grotesque in Literature and Art,' i. 3, 76 Hobart, Hon. Mrs. (Lady Buckinghamshire), i. 127, 129-30, 134 Holland, Lord, i. 289 Holman, the actor, i. 165, 190 Hood, Admiral Lord, i. 121, 124, 127, 133, 228 Hook, Theodore, 'Chacun à son Goût,' i. 67 Hooper, the boxer, i. 162 Horne-Tooke, John, i. 327, 359; ii. 74 House, Sam, i. 98-9, 108, 129, 131, 138-9 Howe, Lord, i. 67-8, 199 Howitt, the artist, Rowlandson's brother-in-law, i. 50 John Bull, ii. 42, 43, 47, 50-1, 58, 60-1, 75, 82-3, 93, 101, 130, 159 Johnson, Samuel, LL.D., i. 193-8 Junot, General, ii. 101, 204 Kemble, John Philip, ii. 46, 165 Kent, Duke of, ii. 141-4 King of Prussia, The, i. 182-3 Kingsbury, Caricaturist, i. 242, 290 Knight (Miss Cornelia), authoress, ii. 311-12 Lambert, Daniel, ii. 59-60 Leicestershire Giant, ii. 59-60 Leinster, Duke of, i. 249, 251 Life of Henry Bunbury, the Caricaturist, i. 4, 75-9 Lonsdale (Earl of), i. 136-7 Lord Howe's Action, i. 67-8 Lothian, Marquis of, i. 249, 251 Louis XVI. of France, i. 274, 290 -- XVIII. of France, ii. 292, 295 Lowther, Sir James, i. 136 Loyal Volunteers of London and Environs, i. 375 Lunardi, Vincent, i. 163-4 Malcolm, J. P., F.S.A., 'Historical Sketch of the Art of Caricaturing,' i. 75-6; ii. 184 Manners, Lord Charles, ii. 215-16 Melville, Lord (_see_ Henry Dundas), ii. 49-51, 60-1, 75 Memoirs of John Bannister, Comedian, i. 47 Mitchell, the Banker, i. 68, 71, 85 Moira, Lord, embarkation for _La Vendée_, i. 68 Morland, George, the Artist, i. 86-7, 239 -- -- Portrait of, by Rowlandson, i. 86; ii. 229, 330 Moser, Michael, Keeper at Somerset House, i. 53 Mulgrave, Lord, ii. 166 Munro, Doctor, i. 124 National Collections of Caricatures, i. 5; ii. Appendix. Nelson, Admiral Lord, i. 350; ii. 52, 54, 311-13 'Newcome, Johnny' (pseudo), Military Adventures of, ii. 298 Ney, Marshal, ii. 291, 293 Nicols, John, Editor of the _Gentleman's Magazine_, i. 282 Night Auctions, i. 70 Nixon, Henry, the Facetious, i. 82-3; ii. 26, 66 Nollekens, J., Artist, ii. 16, 19 Norfolk, Duke of, i. 359 North, Lord, i. 105-6, 108, 112-13, 116, 119, 124-5, 142, 220 O'Connor, i. 364 O'Kelly, Colonel, i. 259-60 O'Meara, Dr., 146, 155 Orleans, Duke of, i. 252-3, 248, 274 Pacchierolti, i. 98 Paoli, General, i. 193 Papworth, J. B., ii. 268 Parsons, the Comedian, i. 70 Paul, Emperor of Russia, ii. 28-9 Perdita, i. 159 Perry, James, of the _Morning Chronicle_, i. 159 Petersham, Lord, ii. 225 Petty, Lord Henry, ii. 58-60 Picturesque Beauties of Boswell, i. 193-8 'Pindar, Peter,' Trick played off on, i. 71-2 -- -- i. 97, 143, 187-8, 192, 200, 210, 361; ii. 13, 217 Pitt, Hon. William, i. 115, 117, 119, 121, 123, 221, 226, 230, 231-2, 243-8, 360; ii. 22, 28, 49, 50 Pomfret, Lord, ii. 225 Pope Pius the Sixth, i. 290 -- -- the (Pius VII.), ii. 44, 51, 163, 204 Portland, Duchess of, i. 124 -- Duke of, i. 289 Potemkin, i. 292 Priestly, Dr., i. 272 Prince of Wales, i. 110, 132, 140, 152, 159, 170, 220, 226, 229-31, 243, 246-7, 248, 251, 274, 290, 298, 303 -- Regent, ii. 294 Prussia, King of, i. 292 Pugin's 'Microcosm, or London in Miniature,' ii. 125-8 Pyne, W. H. (_Ephraim Hardcastle_), 'Wine and Walnuts,' i. 55-6 -- -- -- _Somerset House Gazette_, i. 55, 57-8, 69 Queen Charlotte, i. 110, 199-200, 220, 228 Queen of Spain, ii. 93 Quirk (Boxer), ii. 226 'Quiz' (pseudo), 'The Grand Master, or Qui Hi in Hindostan,' ii. 299-301 Ramberg, Caricaturist, i. 223, 225 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the Year 1797,' ii. 19-21 Richmond, Duke of, i. 183, 231, 243-4, 246-8 Robinson, Jack, i. 117-18 -- Mrs., i. 159 Romney (the Painter), ii. 311 Ron, Baron (Quack Dentist), i. 211 Roscius, the Infant, ii. 46 Rosedale, John (Mariner), exhibitor of the pictures at Greenwich Hospital, ii. 71 Rowlandson, Thomas (the Caricaturist), i. 239, 360 -- a student at the Royal Academy, i. 53 -- Academy drawings, i. 22-3 -- and Napoleon, i. 27-8 -- as a landscape artist, i. 14 -- as a marine artist, i. 18 -- as a portrait painter, i. 13 -- at Portsmouth, i. 67 -- biographical references to, i. 54-5 -- book illustrations, i. 35-45 -- chronological summary of his caricatures, ii. 389. (_See_ 4) -- Continental tours, i. 59, 68-9; ii. 330-1 -- contributions to the Royal Academy, i. 50-65 -- collections of drawings by, ii. Appendix -- Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum, ii. Appendix -- South Kensington Museum, ii. Appendix Rowlandson, Dyce Collection, South Kensington Museum, ii. Appendix -- -- at Windsor Castle, ii. Appendix -- early caricatures, i. 22 -- engraved works, i. 23-30 -- family, the, i. 49-51 -- fortune bequeathed the Caricaturist, A, i. 64 -- gambling proclivities, i. 64 -- _Gentleman's Magazine_, the, obituary notice, i. 55, 94-5 -- George Cruikshank on Rowlandson, i. 16-19 -- his first visit to Paris, i. 52 -- his friends, i. 60-2 -- his publishers, i. 6 -- his schoolfellows, i. 51 -- Illustrations to 'The Tour of Dr. Syntax in Search of the Picturesque,' ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 -- -- 'The World in Miniature,' ii. 312-17, 362 -- -- 'The English Dance of Death,' ii. 317-55 -- imitations of the drawings of contemporary artists, i. 151 -- in France, Flanders, and Holland, i. 58, 68-9; ii. 330-1 -- in Paris, i. 58-9 -- journeys in England, i. 75, 276-9, 360; ii. 6, 19-21, 56, 169, 181, 239-246, 373 -- letter from, 1804, ii. 48 -- lists of public and private collections. Appendix -- mode of working at Ackermann's 'Repository of Arts,' i. 31 -- on the Westminster Election, i. 22, 121-43, 153-4 -- portraits of the artist, i. 45-8, 360; ii. 228-30 -- portraits exhibited by, i. 59 -- robbed, i. 65-6 -- successive exhibits at the Royal Academy. Figure subjects, i. 59, 64-5 -- views of the Colleges, Oxford and Cambridge, ii. 186 Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature,' ii. 373 -- illustrations to 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' ii. 356-9 -- -- 'The Dance of Life,' ii. 359, 362 -- -- 'An Excursion made to Brighthelmstone in the Year 1782,' i. 276-9 -- illustrations to Smollett's works, i. 320; ii. 56, 181 -- -- 'A Narrative of the War, 1793-5,' i. 328-9 -- -- 'Academy for Grown Horsemen,' i. 353; ii. 102-15, 181 -- -- Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' i. 304; ii. 55-6 -- illustrations to 'The Annals of Horsemanship,' i. 352-3; ii. 102-15, 181 -- -- 'Les Délices de la Grande-Bretagne,' i. 305 -- -- 'The Comforts of Bath,' i. 333-49 -- Views of London, i. 349 -- 'Sheets of Picturesque Etchings,' i. 280, 289 -- -- 'Cupid's Magic Lantern,' i. 332 -- -- 'Love in Caricature,' i. 353 -- -- 'Cries of London,' i. 354-6 -- -- _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 357-60 Rowlandson, 'Loyal Volunteers of London,' i. 375-7 -- 'Hungarian and Highland Broadside Exercise,' i. 374 -- 'Nautical Characters,' i. 362 -- 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 -- illustrations to Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey,' ii. 10, 169-74 -- -- 'The Beauties of Sterne,' ii. 10, 169-75 -- -- 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales,' ii. 19-21 -- -- 'Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature,' ii. 41 -- -- 'A Compendious Treatise on Modern Education,' ii. 41 -- -- 'Views in Cornwall, &c.,' ii. 56, 169, 181, 239-46 -- -- 'The Sorrows of Werter,' i. 190; ii. 57 -- -- Boswell's 'Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides,' i. 193-8 -- -- 'The Poems of "Peter Pindar,"' i. 192, 201-9 -- -- 'The Pleasures of Human Life,' ii. 83, 180, 362 -- -- 'The Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature,' ii. 125-8 -- -- 'The Miseries of Human Life,' ii. 119-24 -- -- 'Chesterfield Travestie,' ii. 115-17, 224 -- -- 'The Art of Ingeniously Tormenting,' ii. 115, 129, 178 -- -- _The Caricature Magazine_, ii. 115-16 -- -- G. A. Stevens' 'Lecture on Heads,' ii. 117-18 -- -- 'Beauties of Tom Brown,' ii. 115, 181 -- -- 'The Clarke Scandal,' ii. 135-62 -- -- _The Poetical Magazine_, ii. 175-78 -- -- 'The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen,' ii. 176 -- -- J. Beresford's 'Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life,' ii. 178 -- -- Butler's 'Hudibras,' ii. 174, 198 -- 'Sketches from Nature,' ii. 169 -- illustrations to 'Annals of Sporting,' by Caleb Quizzem, ii. 178-9 -- -- 'Petticoat Loose: a Fragmentary Poem,' ii. 238 -- -- 'Poetical Beauties of Scarborough,' ii. 268-9 -- -- Engelbach's 'Letters from Italy and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 -- -- 'The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome,' ii. 298-9, 312 -- -- 'Qui Hi, the Grand Master in Hindostan,' ii. 299-301 -- -- Ferdinand Farquhar's 'Relics of a Saint,' ii. 312, 317 -- -- 'New Sentimental Journal, or Travels in the Southern Provinces of France,' ii. 362, 368-70 -- -- 'The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy' (Burton), ii. 363 -- -- 'Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders,' ii. 366-7 -- -- 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus,' ii. 371-3 -- -- 'Crimes of the Clergy,' ii. 373 -- -- Chap Books, ii. 363 Rowlandson, 'The Spirit of the Public Journals for the Years 1823-4-5,' ii. 375 -- -- 'The English Spy,' by Bernard Blackmantle, ii. 378-9 -- -- 'The Humourist' (posthumous), ii. 380-6 -- -- 'Grotesque Drawing Book,' ii. 362 Rutland, Duchess of, i. 152 Salisbury (Lord Chamberlain), i. 327 Sandon, Captain, ii. 143 Sheridan, R. B., i. 229, 245, 248, 274, 289, 330; ii. 46, 58-60, 220. Sherwin, J. K., engraver, i. 45 Showell, Mrs., ii. 66 Siddons, Mrs., ii. 46 Sièyes, Abbé, ii. 47 Simmons, Thomas (_murderer_), ii. 81 Skeffington, Sir Lumley, i. 180 Smith, John Raffaelle, engraver, i. 47 Smith, John Thomas, portrait of Rowlandson, i. 48; ii. 17 'Nollekens and his Times,' ii. 55; ii. 16-19 'Book for a Rainy Day,' i. 70 Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle,' ii. 56 Miscellaneous Works, ii. 181 _Somerset House Gazette_, i. 54, 88 Sorrows of Werter, ii. 57 Southcott, Joanna (the 'Prophetess'), ii. 287 Spain, Queen of, ii. 93 Spain, Infants of, ii. 94 Stanislaus the Second, King of Poland, i. 290 Sterne, Laurence, ii. 10, 169-75. Stevens, G. A., 'A Lecture on Heads,' ii. 117 Sydney, Lord, i. 246 Talleyrand, Prince, ii. 45, 187, 280 Tegg's Caricatures, i. 34 Temple, Lord, i. 119, 140, 141 Thelwall (political lecturer), i. 327, 359 Thicknesse, Philip, i. 275-6 Thurlow, Lord, i. 121-2, 140-1, 220, 243-4, 248, 290 Tierney, Mr., i. 359 Topham, Major (_World_ newspaper), at Vauxhall, i. 63 Topham, Captain, i. 158, 165-7, 183, 190 Townshend, Lord John, i. 228 Towzer, Rev. Roger, ii. 287 Trotter, 51, 61 Vauxhall Gardens, Characters at, i. 156-62 Rowlandson at, i. 62-3 -- Singers at, 63 -- Mrs. Weichsel, i. 63 Wales, Prince of (afterwards George IV.), i. 110, 132, 140, 152, 159, 170, 220, 226, 229-31, 243, 246-8, 251, 274, 290, 298, 303 Walpole, Horace, i. 128 Ward (Boxer), ii. 226 Wardle, Colonel, ii. 135-64, 166, 181 Watson, Brook, i. 244 Weichsel, Mrs., i. 158 _Well-bred Man_, The (H. Nixon), i. 83 Wellington, Duke of, ii. 281, 293-5 Wells, Mrs., 166-7 Weltjé, Cook to the Prince of Wales, i. 71, 248, 251 His house at Hammersmith, i. 73-4 'Werter, Sorrows of,' i. 191; ii. 57 Westmacott, Charles Molloy, i. 43 'The Spirit of the Public Journals for the Years 1823-5,' ii. 375, 378 'The English Spy,' ii. 378-9 Whitbread, ii. 49, 60-1, 136 Whiteford, Caleb, i. 84-5 Wigstead, Henry, Bow Street Magistrate, i. 60, 81-2, 276-9, 360 Wigstead, Henry, 'An Excursion to Brighthelmstone made in the year 1872,' i. 276-9 'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales,' i. 360; ii. 19-21 Wilberforce, ii. 50, 136 Wilkes, Alderman, i. 244 Wilson, Richard, Librarian at the Royal Academy, i. 53, 361 'Wine and Walnuts,' i. 54, 83 Woodward, George Moutard, the Caricaturist, i. 80; ii. 115, 128 'Works of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with the Story of his Life and Times,' i. 3-4 Wray, Sir Cecil, 111, 122, 124, 127, 133-4, 136-9, 154 Wright, Thomas, 'History of the Grotesque in Literature and Art,' i. 3 -- 'Caricature History of the Three Georges,' i. 3, 76-7 Würtemburg, King of, i. 327 York, Duke of, and Mrs. Clarke, i. 28; ii. 135-64, 178, 181 INDEX OF TITLES, SUBJECTS, PUBLISHED CARICATURES, ILLUSTRATIONS, &c. Abroad and at Home, ii. 66 Academy, The, for Grown Horsemen, i. 353 Accidents will Happen, ii. 297 Accommodation, or Lodgings to let, at Portsmouth, ii. 89 Accommodation Ladder, ii. 210 Accurate, An, and Impartial Narrative of the War (1793, 1794, 1795, &c.), i. 328, 329 Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo, ii. 293 Acquittal, The, or Upsetting the Porter Pot (Lord Melville), ii. 60, 61 Actress's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Acute Pain, ii. 2 Admiral Nelson Recruiting with his Brave Tars after the Glorious Battle of the Nile, i. 350-1 Admiration with Astonishment, ii. 1 Admiring Jew, The, i. 153 Advantage, The, of Shifting the Leg, i. 349, 351 Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy, The, ii. 363-4 Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend Mr. A. Adams, i. 312 Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, ii. 56 Advice to Sportsmen; selected from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell, ii. 179-80 Aerostation out at Elbows. Vincent Lunardi, i. 163-4 Affectionate Farewell, The, or Kick for Kick, ii. 280 After Dinner, i. 279 After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce, or Corporal Casey got into the Wrong Box, ii. 194 Ague and Fever, i. 226 'Ah! let me, Sire, refuse it, I implore.' ('Peter Pindar'), i. 207 Alehouse Door, ii. 314 All-a-growing, i. 356 Allegoria, ii. 11 All for Love: a Scene at Weymouth, ii. 147 All the Talents, ii. 67-9 Ambassador of Morocco on a Special Mission, The, ii. 146-7 Amorous Turk, An, i. 352 Amputation, i. 107, 320 Amsterdam, i. 331 Amusement for the Recess; or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture, ii. 161-2 Anatomist, The, ii. 202 Anatomy of Melancholy, The, ii. 86 'And now his lifted eyes the ceiling sought.' 'Peter Pindar,' i. 205. Angelo's Fencing Room, i. 297-300 Anger, i. 18; ii. 2 Anglers (1611), ii. 220, 222 Anglers (1811), ii. 222 Annals of Horsemanship, i. 352 Annals of Sporting by Caleb Quizem, ii. 178-9 Anonymous Letter, ii. 14 Anticipation (Chr. Atkinson, Contractor, in the Pillory), i. 143 Antidote to the Miseries of Human Life, ii. 178 _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 357-60, 362 Antiquarian, i. 252 Antiquarians à la Grecque, ii. 51 Anything will do for an Officer, ii. 62 Apollo and Daphne, i. 150 Apollo, Lyra, and Daphne, i. 364 Apostate, The, Jack Robinson, Political Ratcatcher, i. 117-9 Apothecaries' Prayer, The, ii. 31 Artist, An, Travelling in Wales, i. 360-2 Art of Ingeniously Tormenting, The, ii. 115, 129, 178 Art of Scaling, i. 219, 221 Astronomer, An, i. 366 At Dinner, i. 278-9 At Home and Abroad! Abroad and at Home! ii. 66 Attack, The, i. 289 Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White, The, in the White Hall, City of Laputa, ii. 309-10 Attention, i. 2; ii. 1 Attorney, ii. 14 Attributes, ii. 10-13 Awkward Squads Studying the Graces, ii. 220 Bachelor's Fare: Bread and Cheese and Kisses, ii. 253-4 Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazen-Nose Broke Loose, ii. 201 Bad News on the Stock Exchange, i. 325 Bad Speculation, A, i. 366 Bait for the Kiddies on the North Road, A, or 'That's your sort, prime bang up to the mark,' ii. 184, 186 Ballooning Scene, A, i. 323 Banditti, ii. 297 Bank, The, i. 306 Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East, i. 370 Barber, A, ii. 13 Barberorum, ii. 12 Barber's Shop, A, ii. 223 Bath, Comforts of (in 12 plates), i. 333-49 Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature, ii. 41 Bardolph Badgered, or the Portland Hunt, i. 289-90 Bartholomew Fair, ii. 92 Bassoon, The, with a French Horn accompaniment, ii. 206, 208 Bath Races, ii. 194 Battleorum, ii. 12 Bay of Biscay, i. 262, 368 Beast, The, as described in Revelation, chap. xiii. Resembling Napoleon Buonaparte, ii. 95 Beauties, i. 317-18 'Beauties of Sterne,' ii. 10, 169-75 'Beauties of Tom Brown,' ii. 115-181 Bed-warmer, A, i. 167 Beef à la Mode, ii. 3 Behaviour at Table (four subjects), ii. 117-18 Bel and the Dragon, ii. 216 Belle Limonadière au Café des Mille Colonnes, Palais Royal, Paris, ii. 272, 274 Benevolence, i. 316-17 'Benevolent Epistle to Sylvanus Urban' (_vide_), i. 282 Billiards, ii. 43 Billingsgata, ii. 11 Billingsgate, i. 150 Billingsgate at Bayonne, or the Imperial Dinner, ii. 93-4 Bills of Exchange, ii. 6 Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures, A, ii. 90, 166-7 Bill of Wright's, The, or the Patriot Alarmed, ii. 162 Billy Lackbeard and Charley Blackbeard Playing at Football, i. 118 Bishop and his Clarke, The, or a Peep into Paradise, ii. 148 Bitter Fare, or Sweeps Regaling, ii. 233 Black, Brown, and Fair, ii. 71 Blackleg Detected Secreting Cards, &c., ii. 84 Blacksmith's Shop, i. 212 Black and White, i. 66 Bloody Boney, the Carcase Butcher, left off Trade, retiring to Scarecrow Island, ii. 279 Blucher the Brave Extracting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound, ii. 278 Blue and Buff Loyalty, i. 233 Boarding and Finishing School, A, ii. 54-5 Bob Derry of Newmarket, i. 105-6 Boney's Broken Bridge, ii. 159 Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys, ii. 203-4 Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying Speech, or Europe's Injuries Avenged, ii. 294 Boney Turned Moralist: 'What I was, what I am, what I ought to be,' ii. 282 _Bonne Bouche, Une_, i. 371 Bonnet Shop, A, ii. 187 Bookbinder's Wife, The, i. 371 Bookseller and Author, i. 148 Boot-Polishing, ii. 33 Borders for Halls, i. 364 Borders for Rooms and Screens, slips, i. 364 Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower, The, ii. 182-4 Bostonian Electors of Lancashire, ii. 310 Boswell, J., the Elder. Twenty caricatures by T. R. in illustration of B.'s 'Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides,' i. 193-8 Botheration. Dedicated to the Gentlemen of the Bar, i. 173, 317 Boxes! The, ii. 167 Box-Lobby Hero, The; the Branded Bully, or the Ass Stripped of the Lion's Skin, i. 190-1 Box-Lobby Loungers, i. 180-1 Boxing Match for 800 guineas between Dutch Sam and Medley, fought May 31, 1810, on Moulsey Hurst, near Hampton, ii. 189-90 Bozzy and Piozzi, i. 97 Brace of Blackguards, ii. 229-30 Brace of Public Guardians, A, i. 328 Brain-Sucker, The, or the Miseries of Authorship, i. 212 Breaking Cover, ii. 90 Breaking up of the Blue Stocking Club, ii. 289 Brewers' Drays, i. 183 Brewer's Dray; Country Inn, i. 213 Brilliants, The, ii. 22-6 Briskly Starting to pick up a Lady's Fan, &c., ii. 84-5 Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant, ii. 6 Britannia Roused, or the Coalition Monsters Destroyed, i. 117 Britannia's Support, or the Conspirators Defeated, i. 247 British Sailor, Frenchman, Spaniard, Dutchman, ii. 119 Broad Grins, or a Black Joke, ii. 230 Brothers of the Whip, i. 103 Brown, Tom, Beauties of, ii. 115, 181 Bull and Mouth, The, ii. 168 Bullock's Museum, ii. 309 Burning Shame, The, ii. 152 Burning the Books. Memoirs of Mrs. Clarke, ii. 158 Business and Pleasure, ii. 265 Butcher, A, 269-70 Butler, S. 'Hudibras,' ii. 198 Butterfly Catcher and the Bed of Tulips, ii. 62 Butterfly Hunting, ii. 61 Buy a Trap--a Rat-trap, i. 354-5 Buy my Fat Goose, i. 354 Buy my Moss Roses, or Dainty Sweet Briar, ii. 34 Cabriolet, A, i. 150 Cake in Danger, A, ii. 58 Calf's Pluck, A, ii. 80 Cambridge, Emmanuel College Garden, ii. 184 -- Inside View of the Public Library, ii. 184 Captain's Account Current of Charge and Discharge, The, ii. 64 Captain Bowling Introduced to Narcissa. 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 Captain Epilogue (Capt. Topham) to the Wells (Mrs. Wells), i. 165, 183 Careless Attention, i. 256 Caricature Magazine, The, or Hudibrastic Mirror, ii. 115-16 Caricature Medallions for Screens, ii. 6 Carter and the Gipsies, The, ii. 293 Cart Race, A, i. 260 Case is Altered, The, i. 132-3 Cash, ii. 6 Cat in Pattens, A, ii. 237-8 Catamaran, A, or an Old Maid's Nursery, ii. 42 Catching an Elephant, ii. 226 Cattle not Insurable, ii. 167 Chairmen's Terror, The, i. 308 Chamber of Genius, The, ii. 227 Champion of Oakhampton Attacking the Hydra of Gloucester Place, The, ii. 153-4 Champion of the People, The, i. 120 Chance-Seller of the Exchequer putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries, The, ii. 374-5 Chaos is come again, i. 283, 287-8 Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Orders (54 coloured plates), ii. 366-7 Charity Covereth a Multitude of Sins, i. 104-5 Charm, A, for a Democracy, _Anti-Jacobin_, i. 357-60 Chelsea Parade, or a Croaking Member Surveying the Inside and Outside of Mrs. Clarke's Premises, ii. 149 Chelsea Reach, i. 262 Chemical Lectures (Sir H. Davy), ii. 366 Chesterfield Burlesqued, ii. 224 Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners, ii. 115, 117 Christening, A, i. 282 Christmas Gambols, ii. 235 Chronological Summary of Rowlandson's Caricatures, ii. 389. (_See_ pages 387-408.) Cits Airing themselves on Sunday, i. 372 City Courtship, i. 171 City Fowlers--mark, i. 371 City Hunt, The, i. 371 Civilian, A, i. 366 Civility, i. 222 Clarke's, Mrs., Farewell to her Audience, ii. 156 Clarke's, Mrs., Last Effort, ii. 155 -- Levée, ii. 146 Clarke Scandal, The, ii. 135-62 Clearing a Wreck on the North Coast of Cornwall, ii. 56 Coalition Wedding, i. 112 Coast Scene, A: Rising Gale, i. 221 Coat of Arms, A. Dedicated to the newly-created Earl of Lonsdale, i. 136 Cobbler's Cure for a Scolding Wife, The, ii. 267-8 Cracking a Joke, ii. 267 Cockney Hunt, ii. 208, 295 Cold Broth and Calamity, i. 293, 313-14 Cole, Mother, i. 125 Collar'd Pork, ii. 6 Collections of Drawings by Rowlandson, ii. Appendix College Pranks, or Crabbed Fellows Taught to Caper on the Slack Rope, ii. 199 College Scene, A, or a Fruitless Attempt on the Purse of Old Square Toes, i. 216-19 Colonel Topham endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman, i. 165 Comedy in the Country: Tragedy in London, ii. 74 Comedy Spectators, i. 219 Comforts, The, of Bath (12 plates), i. 333-49 Comforts of the City, i. 366 Comfort in the Gout, i. 156-7; ii. 37 Comforts of High Living, i. 324 Comforts of Matrimony: a Good Toast, ii. 134 Comfortable Nap in a Post Chaise, A, i. 239 Compassion, 14; ii. 2 Compendious Treatise of Modern Education, ii. 41-2 Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox: Scene the Last, ii. 278-9 Connoisseurs, i. 364, 366 Consequence, The, of not Shifting the Leg, i. 349-50 Consultation, The, or Last Hope, ii. 84 Contrast, The, 1792. Which is Best (British Liberty, French do.)? i. 317-18 Conversazione, ii. 214 Convocation, i. 312 Cook's Prayer, The, ii. 33 'Cooks, scullions, hear me, every mother's son!' 'Peter Pindar,' i. 204. Copperplate Printers at Work, i. 167 Cornwall, Series of Views in, ii. 239-46 Corporal in Good Quarters, The, ii. 39-40 Corsican and his Bloodhounds at the Window of the Tuileries looking over Paris, The, ii. 292-3 Corsican Munchausen Humming the Lads of Paris, The, ii. 261 Corsican Nurse Soothing the Infants of Spain, The, ii. 94 Corsican Spider in his Web, The, ii. 94 Corsican Tiger at Bay, The, ii. 93 Corsican Toad under a Harrow, The, ii. 259 Council of War Interrupted, A ('Narrative of the War'), i. 320 Counsellor, A, ii. 22-3 Counsellor and Client, i. 145 Country Cart Horses, i. 150 Country Characters: a series, ii. 13 Country Club, ii. 58, 214 Country Inn, i. 213 Country Simplicity, i. 199 Couple of Antiquities, A, ii. 83 Court Canvass of Madame Blubber, i. 130 Courtship in High Life, i. 170 Courtship in Low Life, i. 170 Covent Garden Nightmare, The, i. 129 Covent Garden Theatre, i. 192 Cribbage Players, i. 222 Cries of London, i. 354; ii. 198 Crimes of the Clergy, ii. 373 Crimping a Quaker, ii. 276-7 Crow, The, and the Pigeon, i. 368 Cully pillaged, A, i. 167 Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 225 Cupid's Magic Lantern, i. 332 Curtain Lecture, A, ii. 16 Cure for Lying and a bad Memory, A, ii. 75, 77 Damp Sheets, i. 293-5 Dance of Death, ii. 317, 355 Dance of Life, The (with 28 coloured engravings by T. Rowlandson), ii. 359-61 Daniel Lambert, the Wonderful Great Pumpkin of Little Britain, ii. 59-60 Dasher, A, or the Road to Ruin in the West, i. 371 Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place, or a Kept Mistress in High Feather, ii. 147 Deadly-Lively, ii. 298 Death and Buonaparte, ii. 272 Death of Madame République, The, ii. 47 Deer Hunting: a landscape scene, i. 222 Defeat of the High and Mighty Balissimo and his Cecilian Forces on the Plains of St. Martin's, i. 153 Defrauding the Customs, or Shipping Goods not fairly entered, ii. 289-90 Delicate Finish to a French (Corsican) Usurper, A, ii. 281 Délices de la Grande Bretagne, Les, i. 305 Delicate Investigation, The, ii. 135-62 Delineations of Nautical Characters, i. 362 Departure, The, i. 140 Departure from the Coast, or the End of the Farce of Invasion, ii. 52 Departure of La Fleur, The, ii. 217 Description of a Boxing Match, June 9, 1806, ii. 84 Description of a Boxing Match for 100 guineas a side between Ward and Quirk, ii. 226 Design for a Monument to be Erected in Commemoration of the Great, Glorious, and Never-to-be-Forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably Planned and Executed in the year 1809. (Gen. Chatham's Expedition.) ii. 164 Desire (No. 1), ii. 1 Desire (No. 2), ii. 1-2 Despair, i. 20; ii. 2-3 Despatch, or Jack Preparing for Sea, ii. 298 Detection, The, i. 328 Devil's Darling, The, ii. 278 Devonshire, The, or Most Approved Method of Securing Votes, i. 126 Devotee, A, i. 366 Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites, ii. 44 Die Reise des Doktor Syntax, um das Malerische aufzusuchen. Ein Gedicht frei aus dem Englischen ins Deutsche übertragen, ii. 373 Dinner, The, i. 223 Dinners Dressed in the Neatest Manner, ii. 215 Dinner Hunt, The, i. 333 Dinner Spoiled, The, ii. 14 Directions to Footmen, ii. 82 Disappointed Epicures, ii. 131 Discovery, The, i. 352; ii. 84, 130 Dissolution of Partnership, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts, ii. 145-6 Distillers Looking into their own Business, ii. 214 Distress, i. 372-4 Diver, A, ii. 43 Diving Machine on a New Construction, A, ii. 60 Doctor, ii. 14 Doctor Botherum, the Mountebank, ii. 3-5 Doctor Convex and Lady Concave, ii. 41 Doctors Differ, i. 170 Doctor Drainbarrel Conveyed Home in a Wheelbarrow in order to take his Trial for Neglect of Family Duty, ii. 194-5 Doctor Gallipot placing his Fortune at the Feet of his Mistress, ii. 91, 193 Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family after Preaching before Royalty, ii. 155 Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque (with 31 illustrations by T. Rowlandson), ii. 176, 247-52 Doctor Syntax in the middle of a smoking hot political squabble wishes to wet his whistle, ii. 266-7 Dog Days, The, ii. 228 Dog Fight, A, ii. 206-7 Dog and the Devil, The, ii. 33 Doleful Disaster, A; or Miss Tubby Tatarmin's Wig Caught Fire, ii. 255 Domestic Shaving, i. 258 Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites, ii. 368 Don Luigi's Ball, ii. 305 Don Quichotte Romantique, Le, ou Voyage du Docteur Syntaxe à la Recherche du Pittoresque et du Romantique, ii. 368 Don't he Deserve it? i. 261 Double Disaster, or New Cure for Love, The, ii. 77 Double Humbug, The, or the Devil's Imp Praying for Peace, ii. 271 Do you want any Brick-dust? i. 354 Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal, ii. 191 Draught Horse, The, ii. 214 Dray Horses, Draymen, and Maltsters, i. 150 Dressing for a Birthday (Ladies), i. 272 Dressing for a Masquerade (Cyprians), i. 272 Dressing Room at Brighton, A, i. 280 Dropsy Courting Consumption, ii. 193 Drum-Major of Sedition, The, i. 121 Ducking a Scold, ii. 43 Ducking Stool, The, ii. 229 Duenna and Little Isaac, The, i. 282 Dull Husband, A, i. 267 Dutch Academy, A, i. 306-7 Dutch Merchants, sketched at Amsterdam, i. 331 Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug Returned with a Dutch Squeeze, ii. 260-1 Dying Patient, The, or Doctor's Last Fee, i. 183 Early, An, Lesson in Marching, i. 325 Easter Hunt--Clearing a Fence, ii. 78 Easterly Winds, or Scudding under Bare Poles, ii. 186 Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt, ii. 208, 295 Eating House, An, ii. 296 Edward the Black Prince Receiving Homage, i. 249 Effects of Harmony, i. 326 Effects of the Ninth Day's Express from Covent Garden just Arrived at Cheltenham, i. 229 Election, the Westminster, i. 128-43 Elegance, ii. 33 Embarking from Brighthelmstone to Dieppe, i. 221 Emmanuel College, Cambridge. A Nobleman presenting a collection of Busts, ii. 184 Emmanuel College Garden, Cambridge, ii. 184 Engelbach, 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 257, 301-8 English Address, The, i. 231 English Barracks, i. 294 English Curiosity, or the Foreigner Stared out of Countenance, i. 145, 322-3 English Dance of Death, ii. 317-55 English Exhibitions in Paris, or French People Astonished at our Improvement in the Breed of Fat Cattle, ii. 237 Englishman in Paris, ii. 78-9 English Manner and French Prudence, or French Dragoons brought to a Check by a Belvoir Leap. A Scene after Nature near Ciudad Rodrigo, ii. 215-16 English Review, i. 10 English Spy, ii. 378-9 English Travelling, or the First Stage from Dover, i. 179, 312 Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonson, The, ii. 205 Enraged Vicar, ii. 66-7 E O, or the Fashionable Vowels, i. 101-2 Epicure, An, i. 238-9; ii. 22 Epicure's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Epicurium, ii. 11. Epilogue, Captain (Topham), i. 158, 165-7, 183, 190 Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, An, i. 165 Etching, An, after Raphael Urbina, i. 364 Evening, i. 280-1 Evening. A Drive on the Sands, ii. 6 Evening, or the Man of Feeling, ii. 214 Evergreen, An, ii. 58 Every Man has his Hobby-Horse, i. 135 Exciseman, ii. 14 Excursion, An, to Brighthelmstone made in the year 1782 by Henry Wigstead and Thomas Rowlandson, i. 276-9 Execution of two Celebrated Enemies of Old England and their Dying Speeches, ii. 260 Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Buonaparte's Carriage, taken at Waterloo, ii. 309 Exhibition 'Stare Case,' Somerset House, ii. 217-8 Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, i. 320 Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley's Magic Lantern, ii. 61 Extraordinary Scene on the Road from London to Portsmouth, An, i. 349 Fall of Achilles, The, i. 152 Fall of Dagon, The, or Rare News for Leadenhall Street, i. 112 Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax, ii. 58 Family Picture ('Vicar of Wakefield'), ii. 358 Family Piece, A, ii. 222 Famous Coalheaver, The, Black Charley Looking into the Mouth of the Wonderful Coal Pit, ii. 49 Fancy, ii. 33 Fancyana, ii. 10 Fashion, ii. 33 Fashions of the Day, or 1784, i. 147 Fashionable Suit, A, ii. 15 Fast Day, ii. 226 Female Gambler's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Female Intrepidity, or the Heroic Maiden, ii. 365 Female Politicians, ii. 289 Fencing Match, A, i. 239 Feyge Dam, with part of the Fish Market, at Amsterdam, i. 330-1 Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' i. 304 Fifth Clause, The, or Effect of Example, ii. 50 Figure Subjects for Landscapes, Groups, and Views, ii. 312 Filial Affection, or a Trip to Gretna Green, i. 171 Filial Piety (P. W. and George III.), i. 229 _Fille mal Gardé_, or Jack in the Box, ii. 36, 37 Finishing School, A, ii. 54, 55 First Stage from Calais, i. 179, 312 First Stage from Dover, i. 179, 312 Fisherman's Family, The, i. 215, 217 Flags of Truth and Lies, ii. 43 Flight of Buonaparte from Hell Bay, The, ii. 291 Flora, ii. 12 Flower of the City, The, ii. 157 Flowers for your Garden, i. 356 Flying Waggon, ii. 315 Foote's 'Minor,' i. 125 Footman, ii. 14 Foreigner, The, Stared out of Countenance, i. 145, 322-3 Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack Shaking Hands with an old Acquaintance, i. 368 For the Benefit of the Champion, i. 142 Fort, The, ii. 298 Four in Hand, A, i. 300 Four o'clock in the Country, i. 281-2 Four o'clock in Town, i. 280-1 Four Seasons of Love, The: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, ii. 286 Fox and the Grapes, The, ii. 97 Fox-Hunters Relaxing, i. 280 Fox-Hunting, i. 222 Free and Easy, i. 59 French Barracks, i. 294 French Dentist Showing a Specimen of his Artificial Teeth and False Palates, A, ii. 201 French Family, A; (_see_ An Italian Family), i. 58, 170, 272-3 French Inn, ii. 214 French Ordinary, A, ii. 1, 44, 45 French Review, i. 11 French Travelling, or the First Stage from Calais, i. 179, 312 Fresh Breeze, A, i. 258-9. Freshwater Salute, A, i. 371 Friendly Accommodation, ii. 35 Friends and Foes, up he Goes: Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Cloud, ii. 262-3 Frog-Hunting, i. 269-70 From the Desk to the Throne. A New Quick Step, by Joseph Buonaparte. The Bass by Messrs. Nappy and Talley, ii. 95 Frontispiece to Tegg's 'Complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the Circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of H.R.H. the Duke of York before the House of Commons,' 1809, ii. 145 Front View of Christ Church, Oxford, ii. 184-5 Funking the Corsican, ii. 262 Funeralorum, ii. 11 Fuseli's 'Nightmare' (parody on), i. 129 Gambado. An Academy for Grown Horsemen, ii. 102-15, 181 Gambling Tables, i. 101-3 Game, A, at Put in a Country Alehouse, i. 368 Gamester going to Bed, The, ii. 208, 210 Gardiner, Sir Alan, 327 General Chatham's marvellous Return from his Expedition of Fireworks, ii. 164-5 General Discharge, A, or the Darling Angel's Finishing Stroke, ii. 153 German Waltz, The (_see_ 'The Sorrows of Werter'), ii. 57 Get Money, &c., ii. 90 Gig-hauling, or Gentlemanly Amusement for the Nineteenth Century, ii. 34 Gig-Shop, The, or Kicking up a Breeze at Nell Hamilton's Hop, ii. 199-200 Gilpin's Return to London, i. 174 Giving up the Ghost, or one too many, ii. 267 'Ghost of my Departed Husband, whither art thou gone?' ii. 267 Ghost, A, in the Wine-Cellar, ii. 6 Glee, A: 'How shall we Mortals pass our Hours? In Love, in War, in Drinking?' ii. 168 Glorious Victory, The, obtained over the French Fleet off the Nile, August 1, 1798, by the gallant Admiral Lord Nelson of the Nile, i. 350 Glow-Worms, ii. 55, 231 Glutton, The, ii. 265 'Going! Going!' i. 164; ii. 267 Going to Ride St. George. A Pantomime lately performed at Kensington before their Majesties, i. 226 Going in State to the House of Peers, or a Piece of English Magnificence, i. 247 Golden Apple, The, or the Modern Paris, i. 152 Gone, i. 164 Good Night, i. 370 Good Speculation, A, i. 366 Grand Battle, The, between the famous English Cock and Russian Hen, i. 290-1 Grand Master, The, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan, by Quiz, ii. 299-301 Grand Monarque Discovered, or the Royal Fugitives Turning Tail, ii. 393 Grandpapa, The, i. 313, 320 Grand Procession to St. Paul's, The, on St. George's Day, 1789, i. 252 Gratification of the Senses _à la mode Française_ (Seeing, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling, Feeling), ii. 10 Great Cry and Little Wool, i. 109 Green Dragon, The, ii. 84 Grinning Match, i. 372 Grog on Board, i. 168, 253-4, 323 Grotesque Border for Rooms and Halls, ii. 10 Grotesque Drawing Book (40 illustrations), ii. 362 Gull, The, and the Rook, i. 368 Hackney Assembly. 'The Graces, the Graces, remember the Graces!' ii. 235-6 Halt at a Cottage Door, i. 349 Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion, The, i. 123 Hard Passage, A, or Boney Playing Bass on the Continent, ii. 98 Harmonic Society, The, ii. 195, 217 Harmony: Effects of Harmony, i. 174-5, 326 Hatred or Jealousy, ii. 1 Hawks and a Pigeon, i. 47 Haymakers, i. 214 Hazardorum, ii. 112 Head of the Family in Good Humour, The, ii. 130 Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzic Fair, ii. 276-7 Hearts for the Year 1800, ii. 6 Hell Broke Loose; or the Devil to Pay among the Darling Angels, ii. 160 Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France, ii. 291 'Here's your Potatoes, four full pound for Two-pence,' ii. 34 He won't be a Soldier, i. 349 Higglers' Carts, i. 150 High Bailiff for Westminster, The, i. 140, 153-4 High Fun for John Bull, or the Republicans, i. 352 High-Mettled Racer, The, i. 261 Highness the Protector, His, i. 114 Hindoo Incantations--A View in Elephanta, ii. 300 Hiring a Servant, ii. 220 Historian Animating the Mind of a Young Painter, The, i. 150 History of Johnny Quæ Genus, The. The Little Foundling of the late Doctor Syntax, ii. 371-3 'History of Tom Jones, a Foundling,' ii. 55-6 Hit at Backgammon, A, ii. 193 Hocus Pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone, ii. 5 Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates, ii. 290 Holy Friar, The, ii. 72-3 Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat at Home for the Holidays, ii. 167, 267 Horror, i. 16; ii. 2 Horse Accomplishments, i. 366 Hospital for Lunatics, i. 247 Hot Cross Buns--Two a Penny--Buns, i. 356 Hot Goose, Cabbage, and Cucumbers, ii. 374 Housebreakers, i. 233-4, 293 How to Escape Losing, i. 297 How to Escape Winning, i. 297 How to Pluck a Goose, ii. 36 How to Vault into the Saddle, or a new-invented Patent Crane for the Accommodation of Rheumatic Rectors, ii. 265 'Hudibras.' 5 Illus. by Wm. Hogarth, ii. 174 Human Life, Miseries of, ii. 71, 119-24, 166 Humbugging, or Raising the Devil, ii. 5 _Humourist, The_, with 50 engravings, &c., after designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson, ii. 380-6 Humours of Houndsditch, or Mrs. Shevi in a Longing Condition, ii. 254-5 Humours of St. Giles's, The, i. 223, 225 Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise, i. 374 Hunting Series, i. 223 Huntsman Rising, The, ii. 208-9 Hunt the Slipper: Picnic Revels, ii. 41 Hypochondriac, The, i. 314, 316 Illustrations to Poems of Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot), i. 192 Imitations of Modern Drawings, i. 151 Imperial Coronation, The, ii. 44-6 Imperial Stride, An, i. 290 In at the Death, i. 223 Incurable, The: 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground,' i. 124 Infant Hercules, The, i. 115 Inn Yard on Fire, i. 300-2 Inside View of the Public Library, Cambridge, ii. 184 Interior of a Clockmaker's Shop, i. 109 Interior of Simon Ward, _alias_ St. Brewer's Church, Cornwall, ii. 63. Interruption, or Inconveniences of a Lodging House, i. 256 Introduction, i. 162 Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed, i. 169, ii. 38. Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary, i. 249 Do. do. do. Return, or Bulls without Horns, i. 251 Irish Ambassadors Extraordinary, The, a Galantee Show, i. 248-9 Irish Baronet, The, and his Nurse, i. 368 Irish Giant, The, i. 154-5 Irish Howl, An, _Anti-Jacobin Review_, i. 362-3 Irish Jaunting Car, ii. 282 'I Smell a Rat,' or a Rogue in Grain, ii. 73 'Is this your Louse?' ('Peter Pindar'), i. 201 Italian Affectation. Real Characters, i. 98 Italian Family, An. (_See_ A French Family), i. 58, 170, 314-5 Italian Picture-Dealers Humbugging Milord Anglaise, ii. 228-30 Jack Tar Admiring the Fair Sex, ii. 297 Jew Broker, A, ii. 22, 24 Jews at Luncheon, i. 324-5 Jockey Club, The, or Newmarket Meeting, ii. 214 Jockey's Prayer, The, ii. 32 Jockeyship, i. 170; ii. 39 Johanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Excommunicating the Bishops, ii. 217 John Bull and the Genius of Corruption, ii. 159 John Bull at the Italian Opera, ii. 52-3, 212 John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs, ii. 43 John Bull making Observations on the Comet, ii. 83 John Bull Arming the Spaniards, ii. 101 John Bull's Turnpike Gate, ii. 50-1 Joint Stock Street, ii. 168 Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France, ii. 368-70 Journeyman Tailor, A, ii. 296 Jovial Crew, The, i. 192 Joy with Tranquillity, i. 81-2 Junot Disgorging his Booty, ii. 101 Justice, A, ii. 13 Kick-up at a Hazard Table, A, i. 273-4 Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow Women Basting a Beadle, ii. 274 Killing with Kindness, ii. 15 King Joe and Co. making the most of their time previous to quitting Madrid, ii. 99 King Joe's Retreat from Madrid, ii. 96 King Joe on his Spanish Donkey, ii. 96 King's Place, or a View of Mr. Fox's Best Friends, i. 132 Kissing for Love, or Captain Careless Shot Flying, ii. 186 Kitchen-Stuff, ii. 193 Kitty Careless in Quod, or Waiting for Jew Bail, ii. 202-3 La Fleur and the Dead Ass, ii. 173 Lady Hamilton at Home, or a Neapolitan Ambassador, ii. 310-12 Lady in Limbo, A, or Jew Bail Rejected, ii. 37 Lamentable Case of a Juryman, A, ii. 290 Landing Place, A, ii. 315 Land Stores, ii. 226 Last Drop, The, ii. 203 Last Dying Speech and Confession, i. 354 Last Gasp, The, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms, ii. 254 Last Jig, The, or Adieu to Old England, ii. 363 Last Shift, The, ii. 90 Late Hours, ii. 14 Laughter, ii. 2 Launching a Frigate, ii. 130-1 Lawyerorum, ii. 12, 13 Learned Scotchman, The, or Magistrate's Mistake, ii. 236 Lecture on Heads, by Geo. Alex. Stevens, ii. 117-18 Legerdemain, i. 369 'Letters from Naples and the Campagna Felice,' ii. 267, 301-8 Letter-Writer, The, ii. 303 Libel Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press, ii. 182 Liberty and Fame Introducing Female Patriotism (Duchess of Devonshire) to Britannia, i. 141 Life and Death of the Race Horse, ii. 211-12 Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster, Reviewed by His Majesty on Wimbledon Common, July 5, 1798, i. 349 Light Infantry Volunteers on a March, ii. 44 Light Summer Hat and Fashionable Walking Stick, ii. 33 Light Volunteers on a March, ii. 44 'Light, your Honour. Coach unhired,' ii. 34 Little Bigger, A, i. 293 Little Tighter, A, i. 292-3 London in Miniature, ii. 125, 128 London Outrider, or Brother Saddlebag, ii. 14 Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together, A, ii. 258-9 London Refinement, i. 199 Long Sermons and Long Stories are apt to lull the Senses, i. 107 Looking at the Comet till you get a Crick in the Neck, ii. 210-11 Loose Principles, i. 245 Loose Thoughts, i. 371 Lords of the Bedchamber, i. 128 Loss of Eden and Eden Lost, The. Gen. Arnold and Eden Lord Auckland, i. 173 Lottery Office Keeper's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Lousiad, The, i. 200 Love, i. 328 Love in Caricature, i. 353 Love and Dust, i. 234-7; ii. 189 Love in the East, i. 218, 220 Loves of the Fox and the Badger, or the Coalition Wedding, i. 112 Love and Learning, or the Oxford Scholar, i. 182 Love Laughs at Locksmiths, ii. 209 Loyal, The, Volunteers of London, i. 375-7 Lump of Impertinence, A, ii. 166 Lump of Innocence, A, ii. 166 Lunardi, Vincent, i. 163-4 Lust and Avarice, i. 236-7 Luxury and Desire, i. 237 Luxury and Misery, i. 106, 185, 325 Lying-in Visit, A, i. 307; ii. 313 Macassar Oil, or an Oily Puff for Soft Heads, ii. 284 Madame Blubber, i. 127, 129-30, 134 Madame Blubber on her Canvass, i. 129 Madame Blubber's Last Shift, or the Aerostatic Dilly, i. 134 Mad Dog in a Coffee House, A, ii. 131-2 Mad Dog in a Dining Room, A, ii. 131, 133 Mahomedan Paradise, A, i. 352 Maid of all Work's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire, A, ii. 58 Maiden Speech, The, i. 165 Maiden's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Major Topham (of the _World_) and the rising genius of Holman, i. 320 Man of Fashion's Journal, A, ii. 35 Man of Feeling, The, ii. 83, 216 Manager (Garrick) and Spouter, ii. 390 Manager's Last Kick, The, or a New Way to Pay Old Debts, ii. 219 Mansion House Monitor (_Poetical Magazine_), ii. 176 March to the Camp, i. 370 Margate, ii. 6 Masquerading, ii. 209-11 Master Billy's Procession to Grocers' Hall, i. 119 Master of the Ceremonies, A, Introducing a Partner, i. 326 Matrimonial Comforts (a series), ii. 14 Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve, ii. 295-6 Medical Despatch, or Doctor Double-Dose Killing two Birds with one Stone, ii. 194 Meet, The: Hunting Morning, i. 223-4 Melopoyn Haranguing the Prisoners in the Fleet. 'Hogarthian Novelist,' ii. 6 -- (a distressed poet) and the Manager, i. 320 Melpomene in the Dumps, ii. 46-7 Mercury and his Advocates Defeated, or Vegetable Intrenchment, i. 267 Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature, ii. 125-8 Midwife going to a Labour, A, ii. 199 Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome, ii. 312 Militia Meeting, A, i. 372 Milksop, A, ii. 216 Miller's Waggon, i. 150 Minister's Ass, The, i. 143 Miseries of Bathing, ii. 83 Miseries of the Country, ii. 78 -- of Human Life (50 illustrations), ii. 71, 119-24, 166 -- of London: 'Going out to Dinner,' &c., ii. 64-5 -- -- or a Surly Hackney Coachman, ii. 284 -- -- 'Watermen,' ii. 231-2 -- Personal: 'After Dinner, when the Ladies Retire,' ii. 75-6 -- of Travelling--A Hailstorm, ii. 217 -- -- an Overloaded Coach, ii. 66 Miser's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Misery, i. 185, 325 Mistake, The, ii. 162 -- at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety, A, ii. 78 Mistress Bundle in a Rage, or too late for the Stage, ii. 130 Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods, ii. 264 Mock Phoenix, The, or a Vain Attempt to Rise again, ii. 262 Mock Turtle, i. 152; ii. 237 Modern Antiques, ii. 223 Modern Babel, or Giants Crushed by a Weight of Evidence, ii. 157-8 Modern Education, ii. 41, 47 Modern Egbert, The, or the King of Kings, i. 243 Modern Hercules Clearing the Augean Stables, The, ii. 49 Modish, i. 220 Monastic Fare, ii. 71-2 Money-Lenders, i. 148 -- Scrivener, A, ii. 22 Monkey Merchant, A, ii. 63 Monstrous Craws, or a New-Discovered Animal, ii. 35 More of the Clarke, or Fresh Accusations, ii. 161 -- Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey Broke through, ii. 83 -- Scotchmen, or Johnny Macree Opening his New Budget, ii. 75 _Morning_--Breakfast at Michiner's Grand Hotel, ii. 6 Morning Dram, The, i. 186 -- or the Man of Taste, ii. 214 Mother Cole and Loader, i. 125 Mother's Hope, The, ii. 86-7 Muck-Worms, ii. 55, 231 Munchausen's Surprising Adventures, ii. 175 Munchausen at Walcheren, ii. 224 Munro, Dr. i. 233 Murphy Delaney, ii. 75 Musical Doctor and his Scholars, A, ii. 297 -- Family, A, ii. 39 My Ass, ii. 295 My Aunt and my Uncle, ii. 83 Nap in the Country, i. 175 Nap in Town (companion), i. 175-6 Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever on Receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets, ii. 53, 55 Nap Dreading his Doleful Doom, or his Grand Entry into the Isle of Elba, ii. 281 -- and his Friends in their Glory, ii. 100-1 Napoleon le Grand, ii. 263-4 -- the Little in a Rage with his great French Eagle, ii. 98 Nap and his Partner Joe, ii. 99 Narrative of the War, i. 328-9 Nautical Characters, i. 362 Naval Triumph, or Favours Conferred, i. 99 Neddy's Black Box, i. 245 Négligé, La. Desig. by 'Simplex Mundities,' i. 183 Neighbours, ii. 296 New French Phantasmagoria, A, ii. 47 -- Invented Elastic Breeches, i. 148; ii. 236 -- Sentimental Journal, ii. 362 -- Shoes, i. 320, 324 -- Speaker, A, i. 246-7 -- Tap Wanted, A, or Work for the Plumber, ii. 182-3 Newspaper, The, ii. 10 Nice Fish, i. 238-9; ii. 22 Night Auction, A, i. 233 _Night_--At the Bazaars, Raffling for Prizes, ii. 6 Nincompoop, or Henpecked Husband, A, ii. 69, 70 None but the Brave deserve the Fair, ii. 255 _Noon_--Dining, Margate, ii. 6 Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony, ii. 257 Not at Home, or a Disappointed Dinner-Hunter, ii. 374 Note of Hand, A, i. 369 Nunina, ii. 11 Nursery, The, i. 371 Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant; or Frenchmen Sick of the Breed, ii. 204-5 Odd Fellows from Downing Street Complaining to John Bull, ii. 88 Oddities, i. 306 Odes for the New Year, i. 209 Off She Goes, ii. 237 Officer. The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome, ii. 298-9 Old Angel at Islington, The, i. 319 -- Cantwell Canvassing for Lord Janus (Hood), i. 228 -- Ewe Dressed Lamb Fashion, An, ii. 193 -- Maid's Prayer, The, ii. 30 -- Maid in Search of a Flea, i. 320, 324 -- Man of the Sea, The, sticking to the Shoulders of Sindbad the Sailor. _Vide_ the 'Arabian Nights' Entertainments.' (Burdett and Horne Tooke), ii. 74 -- Member, An, on his Road to the House of Commons, ii. 33 -- Poacher Caught in a Snare, An, ii. 374 -- Woman's Complaint, The, or the Greek Alphabet, ii. 130 On her Last Legs, i. 310 Opening a Vein, i. 150 Opera Boxes (4 plates), i. 177-8 Oratorio, ii. 6 Ordnance Dreams, or Planning Fortifications, i. 183-4 Original Drawings by Rowlandson, ii. Appendix Outré Compliments, i. 192 Oxford, Front View of Christ Church, ii. 184-5 'Oh! you're a Devil, get along, do!' ii. 134-5 Pantheon, i. 283-4, 256-7, 308 Paris Diligence, ii. 189 Parish Officer's Journal, A, ii. 36 Parliamentary Toast, A, 'Here's to the Lady,' &c., ii. 148 Parody on Milton, A, ii. 198 -- The, or Mother Cole and Loader, i. 125 Parson and the Clarke, The, ii. 154 Pastime in Portugal, or a Visit to the Nunneries, ii. 203 Patience in a Punt, ii. 222 Paviour, A, i. 366 Pea-cart, The, i. 241 Peace and Plenty, ii. 282-3 Peasant Playing the Flute (after J. Mortimer), i. 150 Peep into Bethlehem, A, ii. 13 -- into Friar Bacon's Study, A, i. 119 -- at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall, A, ii. 167-8 Penny Barber, A, i. 257 Penserosa, ii. 11 Persons and Property Protected by Authority, i. 168 Peter's Pension ('Peter Pindar'), i. 207 Peter Plumb's Diary, ii. 187-8 Petersham, Lord, ii. 225 Petitioning Candidate for Westminster, The, i. 143 Petticoat Loose, a Fragmentary Poem, ii. 238 Philip Quarrel (Thicknesse), the English Hermit, &c., i. 275 Philosophorum, ii. 10 Philosophy run Mad, or a Stupendous Monument to Human Wisdom, i. 312-13 Physicorum, ii. 11 Picture of Misery, A, ii. 204 Pictures of Prejudice, ii. 6 Pigeon-Hole, a Covent Garden Contrivance to Coop up the Gods, ii. 200-1 Piece-Offering, A. Memoirs, Life, Letters, &c., of Mrs. Clarke, ii. 159 Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place, A, or the Bishop in an Ecstasy, ii. 148 Pilgrims and the Peas, The, ii. 71 Pit of Acheron, The, or the Birth of the Plagues of England, i. 111-12 Pitt Fall, The, i. 243 Place de Mer, Antwerp, i. 331 -- des Victoires, à Paris, La, i. 262-6 Plan for a General Reform, A, ii. 165 Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place, ii. 156-7 Platonic Love. 'None but the Brave Deserve the Fair,' ii. 74 Pleasures of Human Life, The, ii. 83, 180, 362 -- of Margate, ii. 6 Plot Thickens, The, or Diamond Cut Diamond, ii. 161 Plucking a Spooney, ii. 225 'Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe,' ii. 261 _Poetical Magazine_, ii. 175-8 -- Sketches of Scarborough, ii. 268-9 Polish Dwarf, The (Borowlowski), Performing before the Grand Seigneur, i. 186 Politesse Française, La, or the English Ladies' Petition to his Excellency the Mushroom Ambassador, i. 145 Political Affection, i. 133 -- Butcher, The, or Spain Cutting up Buonaparte for the Benefit of his Neighbours, ii. 96 -- Chemist and German Retorts, or Dissolving the Rhenish Confederacy, ii. 263 -- Hydra, The, i. 231; ii. 58 Poll, The, i. 127 -- of Portsmouth's Prayer, ii. 33 Pomfret, Lord, ii. 225 Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte, The, or Napoleon brought to his last Stool, ii. 163 Portsmouth Point, ii. 284-6 Post Boys and Post Horses at the 'White Hart Inn,' i. 222 Post-chaise, A, i. 150, 217 Post Inn, i. 213 Power of Reflection, The, i. 100-1 Pray Remember the Blind, ii. 34 Preaching to some Purpose, ii. 236 Preceptor and Pupil, i. 140 Preparations for the Academy. Old Nollekens and his Venus, ii. 16-19 Preparations for the Jubilee; or Theatricals Extraordinary, ii. 166 Preparing for the Race, ii. 221 -- to Start, ii. 220-1 -- for Supper, i. 279-80 Print Sale, A (Hutchins, Auctioneer, and his Wife), i. 233 Private Amusement, i. 102, 180 Privates Drilling, i. 319 Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate, ii. 190 Procession of a Country Corporation, i. 366-8 Procession to the Hustings, i. 134-5 Prodigal Son's Resignation, The, ii. 155 Progress of the Emperor Napoleon, The, ii. 101 Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest, ii. 275-6 Propagation of a Truth, The, i. 244 Prophecy explained:--'And there are seven Kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space,' ii. 98 Prospect before us, The (Half-a-crown Regency), i. 230 Prospect before us, The (Pantheon), i. 283-4, 286-87 Prospect before us, The (Companion), i. 285-87 Prudent, i. 221 Publican, A, ii. 13 Publican's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Publicorum, ii. 11 Pugin, ii. 125-8 Puff Paste, ii. 237 Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise, ii. 204 Q. A. Q. Loaded with the Spoils of India, i. 226 Quaix de Paris, ii. 214 Quack Doctor's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Quaker and the Clarke, The, ii. 159 -- and the Commissioners of Excise, The, ii. 265 Quarter-day, or Clearing the Premises without Consulting your Landlord, ii. 274 Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-Gatherers, ii. 49 Quay, The, i. 20 Queer Fish, ii. 42 Rabbit Merchant, ii. 197 Racing, ii. 230-1 Racing Series. The Course, i. 260 " The Betting Post, i. 258-9 " The Mount, i. 261 " The Start, i. 258-9 Rag Fair, ii. 33 Rainbow Tavern, in Fleet Street, in 1800, ii. 19 Raising the Wind: 'When Noblemen,' &c., ii. 53, 233-5 Rapture, ii. 1 Reconciliation, or the Return from Scotland, i. 171-2 Recovery of a Dormant Title, or a Breeches Maker become a Lord, ii. 51 Recruits, ii. 42, 214 Recruiting, ii. 314 -- on a Broadbottom'd Principle, ii. 59 Refinement of Language. A Timber Merchant, &c., ii. 233 Reform Advised, Reform Begun, Reform Complete, i. 319 Reformation, or the Wonderful Effects of a Proclamation, i. 220 Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand Farquhar, ii. 317 Repeal of the Test Act, i. 270-1 Resignation, The, or John Bull Overwhelmed with Grief, ii. 154 Rest from Labour. Sunny Days, i. 150 Return from Sport, i. 189 -- from a Walk, A, ii. 15 Reynard put to his Shifts, i. 132 Rhedarium, The, i. 101 Richardson's Show, ii. 312-13 Richmond Hill, ii. 42, 214 Ride to Rumford, A, i. 371 Rigging out a Smuggler, ii. 190-1 Rising Sun, The, or a View of the Continent, ii. 162-3 Rival Candidates, The, i. 124 Rivals, The, ii. 231, 284 Road to Preferment, The, through Clarke's Passage, ii. 149 -- to Ruin, ii. 43 Roadside Inn, A, i. 269 Rochester Address, or the Corporation going to Eat Roast Pork and Oysters with the Regent, i. 251 'Roderick Random.' Lieutenant Bowling Pleading the Cause of Young Roy to his Grandfather, i. 308-10 -- -- The Passengers from the Waggon arriving at the Inn, i. 310-11 Rogue's March, The, ii. 279 Rosedale, John, Mariner, exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital, ii. 76 Rotation Office, A, i. 96 Rough Sketch of the Times as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett, A, ii. 365 Round Dance, A, ii. 314 Royal Academy, Somerset House, ii. 216 Ruins of the Pantheon after the Fire which happened Jan. 14, 1792, i. 308 Rum Characters in a Shrubbery, ii. 91 Run, The, i. 223 Rural Halt, A, i. 214 -- Sports: Balloon-Hunting, ii. 215 -- -- Buck-Hunting, ii. 287-8 -- -- A Cat in a Bowl, ii. 205-6 -- -- or a Cricket Match Extraordinary, ii. 214 -- -- or a Game at Quoits, ii. 212 Rural Sports; or how to show off a well-shaped Leg, ii. 212-3 -- -- A Milling Match: Cribb and Molineaux, ii. 212 -- -- or an Old Mole-Catcher, ii. 208 -- -- or a Pleasant Way of Making Hay, ii. 284 -- -- Smock-Racing, ii. 212-13 Rustic Courtship, i. 171 -- Recreations, ii. 316 Rusty Bacon, ii. 80, 82 Sad Discovery, The, or the Graceless Apprentice, i. 170 Sadness, ii. 2 Sagacious Buck, The, or Effects of Waterproof, ii. 214 Sailors Carousing, i. 188-9 -- Drinking the Tunbridge Waters, ii. 290 -- on Horseback, ii, 202 Sailor's Journal, The, ii. 35-6 Sailor Mistaken, A, ii. 34 Sailor's Prayer, The, ii. 33 Sailors Regaling, ii. 6 Sailor's Will, A, ii. 51 St. James's and St. Giles's, i. 306, 324 St. James's Courtship, i. 364 St. Giles's Courtship, i. 364-5 Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies, A (after James Gillray), ii. 197 Salisbury, Lord, K. of Würtemburg, and D. of Gloucester, i. 327-8 Saloon at the Pavilion, Brighton, i. 276 Salt Water, ii. 41 Sampson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah, ii. 154 Samuel House, Sir, i. 98-9 Scandal: Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the Evidence and Remarks of the Members, ii. 181 Scarborough, Poetical Sketches of, ii. 269 Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life, ii. 71, 84 Scene in a New Pantomime to be Performed at the Theatre Royal of Paris, ii. 292 -- at Streatham: Bozzi and Piozzi, i. 97 -- from the Tragedy of 'Cato,' A, ii. 150 School of Eloquence, The, i. 98 'School for Scandal,' The, i. 228-9 Schoolmaster's Tour, The, ii. 176 Scorn, ii. 2 Scotch Ostrich Seeking Cover, The, ii. 51 -- Sarcophagus, A, ii. 50 Scottifying the Palate, i. 195 Sea Amusement, or Commander-in-Chief of Cup and Ball on a Cruize, i. 176-7 Searched by Douaniers on the French Frontier, ii. 370 Sea Stores, ii. 226 Seaman's Wife's Reckoning, A. ii. 231 Secret History of Crim. Con., The, plates I., II., ii. 231 Secret Influence Directing the New Parliament, i. 140-1 Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation, The, ii. 367 Select Vestry, A, ii. 58 Sentinel, The, Mistakes Tom Jones for an Apparition, ii. 56 Sentimental Journey, The, ii. 10, 169-74 Sergeant Recruiter (Duc d'Orleans), i. 252-3 Series, A, of Miniature Groups and Scenes, i. 282 -- of Small Landscapes, i. 324 Setting out for Margate, ii. 231, 233. Seven Stages of Man's Schooling, ii. 397 She don't Deserve it, i. 261 -- Stoops to Conquer, ii. 201, 202 -- will be a Soldier, i. 349 Sheets of Borders for Halls, i. 364 -- of Picturesque Etchings.--Cattle at the River. The Horse Race. A View in Cornwall. The River, Towing Barges, &c. Rustic Refreshment. Water Pastime, Skating on a Frozen River, i. 280 -- of Picturesque Etchings.--A Four-in-Hand. The Village Dance. The Woodman Returning. River Scene, Mill, Shipping, &c., i. 289 -- -- Huntsmen Visiting the Kennels. Haymakers Returning. Deer in a Park, Cattle, &c. Shepherds. Horses in a Paddock. Cattle Watering at a Pond. A Piggery, i. 289. Shipping Scene, i. 18 Shoeing--The Village Forge, i. 212 Showell, Mrs.; the Woman who Shows General Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford, ii. 66 Sick Lion, and the Asses, The (York series), ii. 158 Sign of the Four Alls, The, ii. 195-6 Signiora Squallina, ii. 42 Silly, A, ii. 6 Simmons, Thomas (the murderer), ii. 81 Simple Bodily Pain, ii. 2 Single Combat in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O! ii. 28-9 Sir Cecil's Budget for Paying the National Debt, i. 122 Sir Jeffrey Dunstan Presenting an Address from the Corporation of Garratt, i. 232 Six Classes of that Noble and Useful Animal, a Horse, ii. 214 -- Stages of Marring a Face. Dedicated to the Duke of Hamilton, i. 307-8 -- -- of Mending a Face. Dedicated to the Rt. Hon. Lady Archer, i. 308 Sketch from Nature, A, i. 145 Sketches from Nature, ii. 199, 373 Sketch of Politics in Europe. Birthday of the King of Prussia. Toasts on the occasion, i. 182-3 Skipping Academy, A, ii. 6 Slang Society, The, i. 162 Slap-Bang Shop, ii. 297 Sleepy Congregation, A, ii. 199 Slugs in a Sawpit, i. 296-7 Sly Boots, ii. 38 Smithfield Sharpers, or the Countryman Defrauded, i. 46 Smoky House and a Scolding Wife, A, ii. 368 Smollett, T., Miscellaneous Works (26 Illustrations by Rowlandson), ii. 181 Smuggling in, or a College Trick, ii. 190 -- Out, or Starting for Gretna Green, ii. 190 Snip in a Rage, ii. 39 Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral, ii. 43, 88 Social Day, ii. 316 Soldiers on a March, ii. 84 -- Recruiting, i. 349 Song by Commodore Curtis. Tune: 'Cease, rude Boreas,' ii. 163-4 Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart Ache, ii. 39, 41, 210 'Sorrows of Werter,' ii. 57 Spanish Cloak, A, ii. 226 Spanish Passport to France, A, ii. 96 Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests, ii. 36 -- Pleading, i. 98 'Spirit of the Public Journals for the years 1823-25,' ii. 375, 377-8 Spiritual Lovers, i. 330 Spitfires, ii. 192-3 Sports of a Country Fair. Part I., ii. 191 -- Part II., ii. 191 -- Part III., a Bengal Tiger Loose, ii. 191 -- Cockburn's Theatre on Fire, ii. 192 Squall in Hyde Park, A, i. 302-4 Squire, ii. 14 Stadthouse, Amsterdam, i. 331 Stage Coach, A, i. 213; ii. 43 -- -- Setting Down at the Dolphin Inn, i. 237 -- -- Setting Out from a Posting-house, i. 222 Start, The, i. 223 State Auction, The, i. 121 -- Butchers, i. 245 -- Watchman, The, discovered by the Genius of Britain Studying Plans for the Reduction of America, i. 105 Statue to be Disposed of, The, Gloucester Place, ii. 153 Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey,' ii. 169-74 Steward, ii. 14 Stockdale, the Bookselling Blacksmith, one of the King's New Friends, i. 144 Stockjobber's Prayer, The, ii. 31 Studious Gluttons, i. 312-13 Successful Fortune-Hunter, The, or Captain Shelalee leading Miss Marrowfat to the Temple of Hymen, ii. 235 Sufferer for Decency, A, i. 257 Suffering under the Last Symptoms of a Dangerous Malady, &c., ii. 84 Suitable Restrictions, i. 245 Sulky, A, ii. 6 Summer Amusement: Bug-Hunting, ii. 208 -- -- a Game at Bowls, ii. 6-9 Summer Amusements at Margate, or a Peep at the Mermaids, ii. 254 _Supplemental Magazine_, i. 180 Surprising Irish Giant of St. James's Street, The, i. 154 Sweating for Opposition, A, by Dr. Willis, Dominisweaty & Co., i. 248 Sweet Little Girl that I Love, The, ii. 88 -- Lullaby, ii. 42 -- Pea, The, ii. 233 Sympathy, ii. 298 -- or a Family on a Journey, i. 174 Symptoms of Restiveness, ii. 79-80 -- of Sanctity, ii. 27-8 Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris, ii. 188 Tables are Turned, The. How are the Mighty Fallen, ii. 150 Tables Turned: Miseries of Wedlock, ii. 134 Tailor's Wedding, A, ii. 276 Tailpiece to Tegg's Collection of the York and Clarke's Caricatures, ii. 156 Tally-ho-rum! ii. 11 Taste, ii. 33 Tastes Differ, i. 175 Tax-gatherer, ii. 14 Tea on Shore, i. 168, 253-5, 323 Templar at his Studies, A, ii. 222 Temptation, i. 168 Terror, ii. 2 Theatrical Candidate, A, i. 330 -- Chymist, A (Holman _versus_ Topham), i. 190 -- Leap-frog, ii. 46 Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, The, in Search of a Wife (25 illustrations), ii. 373, 375 This is the House that Jack Built: O.P. Riots, Drury Lane, ii. 165-6 Three Tours of Doctor Syntax, i. 33; ii. 176, 247-52, 266-7, 269-70, 367, 373, 375 -- Principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion, The, ii. 286 -- Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor playing at Bo-peep, ii. 186-7 'Throw Physic to the Dogs,' ii. 91, 193, 199 'Tiens bien ton Bonnet, et toi, defends ta Queue,' i. 331 Timber Waggon, i. 150 Times, The: Regency of the Prince, i. 110 -- -- or a View of the Old House in Little Britain, i. 114 Tit-bit for a Strong Stomach, A, ii. 135 -- for the Bugs, A, i. 320 Tithe Pig, i. 268 Too many for a Jew, i. 165 Tooth Ache, The, or Torment and Torture, ii. 375-6 Toper's Mistake, The, ii. 33 Topham endeavouring with his Squirt to Extinguish the Genius of Holman, i. 166 Touch at the Times, A, i. 231 -- for Touch, or a Female Physician in Full Practice, ii. 206 Tour to the Lakes, A, ii. 80-1 Toxophilites, i. 270 Traffic (Old Clo' men), i. 289, 323-4 Trafficorum, ii. 12 Tragedy in London, ii. 74 -- Spectators, i. 217, 219 Transparency Exhibited at Ackermann's, in the Strand, Nov. 27, 1815. Day of Celebration of General Peace in London, ii. 294-5 Transplanting of Teeth (Baron Ron), i. 211 Traveller Refreshed in a Stagnant Pool after the Fatigues of a Dusty Day's Journey, A, ii. 130 Travelling Knife-Grinder at a Cottage Door, i. 222 Trial of the Duke of York, The, ii. 178 Tricks on the Turf--Settling to Lose a Race, ii. 368 Trip to Gretna Green, A, ii. 215 Triumph of Hypocrisy, The, i. 211 -- of Sentiment, The, i. 210 Triumvirate of Gloucester Place, The, or the Clarke, the Soldier, and the Taylor, ii. 151 Tutor and his Pupil Travelling in France, ii. 217 Twelfth Night Characters (in 24 figures), ii. 214 Two Kings of Terror, The. Transparency exhibited at Ackermann's. The Allied Victory of Leipsic, ii. 255, 257 -- Patriotic Duchesses on their Canvass, The (Duchesses of Portland and Devonshire), i. 124 -- of a Trade can never Agree: Mrs. Clarke and Col. Wardle, ii. 160 Twopenny Cribbage, i. 369 Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen, The, Europe is Free, England Rejoices, ii. 281 Uncle George and Black Dick at their New Game of Naval Shuttlecock, i. 199 Undertakers Regaling, ii. 26-7 Unexpected Meeting, An, ii. 148 -- Return, An, or a Snip in Danger, ii. 297 Union, The, ii. 22 -- Headdress, The, ii. 33 Unloading a Waggon, ii. 255-6 Vauxhall Gardens, i. 156-62 Veneration, ii. 1 Véry, Madame, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris, ii. 272-3 Vicar and Moses, The (song heading), i. 147 'Vicar of Wakefield' (24 plates), ii. 356-9, 375 Vicar, ii. 14 Vice-Queen's Delivery, The, at the Old Soldier's Hospital, in Dublin, i. 243 View on the Banks of the Thames, A, ii. 75-7 -- of a Cathedral Town on Market-day, i. 364 Views of the Colleges, ii. 184 -- of Cornwall, ii. 239-46 -- in Cornwall and Dorset (a series), ii. 56 -- in Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, Isle of Wight, &c., ii. 169, 181 View on the French Coast, i. 222 Views of London--Entrance of Tottenham Court Road Turnpike, with a view of St. James's Chapel. Ackermann's Gallery, i. 349 -- -- Entrance of Oxford Street, or Tyburn Turnpike, with a view of Park Lane, i. 349 -- -- Entrance from Mile End, or White Chapel Turnpike, i. 349 -- -- Entrance from Hackney, or Cambridge Heath Turnpike, with a distant view of St. Paul's, i. 349 Village Cavalry Practising in a Farmyard, i. 324 -- Doctor, The, i. 96 Virginia, ii. 11 Virtue in Danger, ii. 297 Visit, A, to the Aunt, i. 192, 324 -- to the Doctor, ii. 236 -- to the Uncle, i. 192, 324-5 'Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur!! Vive le Diable!!! French Constancy, ii. 291-2 Volcano of Opposition, The, i. 293 Volunteer Wit, or not Enough for a Prime, ii. 86 Waddling Out, i. 366 Waggon and Horses. 'The Feathers,' i. 332 Waiting for Dinner, i. 276-9 Washing Day, ii. 15 -- Trotters, ii. 1 Watercresses, i. 354 Waterfall, The, or an Error in Judgment, i. 155 Weeping, i. 13; ii. 2 Welsh Sailor's Mistake, The, or Tars in Conversation, ii. 89 'Werter, Sorrows of,' i. 191; ii. 57 Westminster Deserter, The, Drummed out of the Regiment, i. 138-9 -- Election, The, i. 128-143 -- Mendicant, The, i. 137 -- Watchman, The, i. 126 Wet under Foot, ii. 225 White Sergeant giving the Word of Command, A, ii. 74 Who Killed Cock Robin? (_Manchester Massacre_), ii. 365 Who Kills First for a Crown, i. 274-5 Who's Mistress Now? ii. 41, 206 Widow's Prayer, The, ii. 30 Wigstead, Henry. Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797, ii. 19-21 Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork with his Coat Buttoned Behind, ii. 84, 368 Winding up the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition, ii. 182 Wisdom Led by Virtue and Prudence to the Temple of Fame, i. 135 Witches in a Hayloft, ii. 265 Wit's Last Stake, The, or Cobbling Voters and Abject Canvassers, i. 130-1 Woman of Fashion's Journal, A, ii. 35 Wonderful Pig, The, i. 155 Wonderfully Mended. 'Shouldn't have known you again,' ii. 90 Wonders--Wonders--Wonders! ii. 162 Word-Eater, The (Fox), i. 192, 232-3 Work for Doctors' Commons, i. 306 World in Miniature, ii. 312-16, 362 York Address to the Whale, A, Caught lately off Gravesend, ii. 157 York Dilly, The, or the triumph of innocence, ii. 155 Yorkshire Hieroglyphics!! Plate 1. The Duke's Letter to Mrs. Clarke, ii. 151-2 -- -- Plate 2. The Duke's Second Letter to Mrs. Clarke, ii. 152-3 York Magician Transforming a Footboy into a Captain, The, ii. 148 -- March, The, ii. 149-50 Yorick and Father Lorenzo, ii. 170 -- Feeling the Grisette's Pulse, ii. 10 Youth and Age?--Contrasts, i. 188 THE END. LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. In the text version, footnotes have been moved to the end of each chapter with the exception of a note in the summary table. In the html version, footnotes have been moved to the end of the text. Illustrations have been moved to paragragh breaks in a direction which brings them closer to their descriptions. In the html version this has left blank pages where page numbers are omitted. Obvious typos and punctuation errors have been corrected, but In as many cases as possible the original spelling is retained. It usually adds to the general hilarity. There are many instances of double choices for hyphenations. Some same words are hyphenated and some aren't. These have been left as printed. The names 'Billingsgatura', 'Billingsgatina' and 'Billingsgata' all seem to refer to the same print, left as printed. p.vii. 'An Essay on the Art of Ingeinously Tormenting'. Ingeinously changed to Ingeniously. p.127. 'The sale Room' changed to 'The Sale Room'. p.141. The end of the sentence in the original text reads,'Commander- in Chief'. The e-text will read all on the same line as, Commander-in-Chief. p.148. February 29, 1809. In 1809, February was not a leap year. This appears to be a typo for February 25. p.192. 'the Cossack is giving the fugitive a prog'. 'prog' is changed to prod'. p.309. Footnote 1: 'Now known a the Egyptian Hall' changed to 'Now known as the Egyptian Hall'. p.350. 'cortége' changed to 'cortège'. p.393. 'Delices de la Grand Bretagne. Two plates by by Rowlandson' extra 'by' removed. p.395. '4. Admiration with Astonishment. do.' an extra 'do' has been added. p.400. '4. Original Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erecte in Gloucester Place'. 'Erecte' changed to 'Erected'. p.422. The Castatrophe left as is. p.438. Index. Ferdinand Farquhar's 'Relics of a Saint,' ii. Page numbers added 312, 317. p.442. Index. Caricature Medallions for Screens, ii. Page number added 6. p 452. Index. Cockburn's Theatre on Fire, ii. 192. Dash added as this is a subpart. Index Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place, ii. 156-7. Moved from "O" to "P". 
47400	----	GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. [Illustration: PREFACE. "DE OMNIBUS REBUS ET QUIRUSDAN ALIIS."] PUBLISHED BY TILT & BOGUE, 86, FLEET STREET GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. ILLUSTRATED WITH ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL AND WOOD. "De Omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis." EDITED BY LAMAN BLANCHARD, ESQ. LONDON: TILT AND BOGUE, FLEET STREET. MDCCCXLII. LONDON: BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. CONTENTS. PAGE "Our Preface" described. My Portrait 1 My last pair of Hessian Boots 8 Epigram 13 Love seeking a Lodging 14 Frank Heartwell; or, Fifty Years Ago, 15, 39, 76, 112, 144, 177, 210, 246, 282. Monument to Napoleon 26 Photographic Phenomena; or, the New School of Portrait Painting 29 Commentary on the New Police Act--Punch _v._ Law 33 Original Poetry, by the late SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY, Knt. "Ode to the Human Heart," "On Life et cetera," &c. 35 Love has Legs 52 Bernard Cavanagh, the Irish Cameleon 53 The Ass on the Ladder 54 Omnibus Chat 59 Scene near Hogsnorton 61 Chancery Lane Enigma ib. Sonnets to Macready 63 Large Order to a Hom[oe]opathic Apothecary, &c. 64 "My Vote and Interest." A Communication from Mr. Simpleton Schemer, of Doltford Lodge, Crooksley 65 The Census 72 Love's Masquerading 75 The Livery--Out of London 89 Omnibus Chat 92 Legend of Van Diemen's Land 92 The Girl and the Philosopher 94 The Grave of the Suicide (who thought better of it). ib. A Rigid Sense of Duty 95 Frights 97 A Peep into a Leg-of-Beef Shop 100 A Few Notes on Unpaid Letters 102 First Discovery of Van Demon's Land 104 The Muffin Man 120 A Tiger Hunt in England 121 Omnibus Chat 124 Ingenious Rogueries 124 The Sister Sciences of Botany and Horticulture 126 Photogenic Pictures, No. II. 127 A Negro Boy in the West Indies ib. Legend of the Kilkenny Cats 128 Mademoiselle Rachel 129 Frights!--No. II. 130 A Short Cruise at Margate 132 Epigrams 134 Passionate People 135 Our New Cooks 141 A Song of Contradictions 143 A Warm Reception 151 Tea-Table Tattle 152 Omnibus Chat 155 The Fashions ib. Playbills and Playgoing ib. A Romance of the Orchestra 156 One of the Curiosities of Literature 157 An Incident of Travel 158 Here's a Bit of Fat for You 159 Heiress Presumptive ib. Letter from Mrs. Toddles 160 Frights!--No. III. Haunted Houses, &c. 161 Little Spitz; by Michael Angelo Titmarsh 167 Last Night of Vauxhall; by Laman Blanchard 172 A Tale of the Times of Old 176 An Anacreontic Fable ib. How to Raise the Wind; by Captain Marryatt, R.N. 182 Peep at Bartholomew Fair; by Alpha 188 Omnibus Chat 191 Association of Ideas ib. Boys at School 194 The Laceman's Lament ib. The Height of Impudence 195 Mrs. T. again 196 The Artificial Floor for Skating 197 Duns Demonstrated; by Edward Howard, Author of "Rattlin the Reefer" 199 The Second Sleeper Awakened. Translated by Ali 202 Just Going Out; by Laman Blanchard 204 A Theatrical Curiosity 216 Sliding Scales 217 Sketches Here, There, and Everywhere; by A. Bird. A Stage-coach Race 218 Another Curiosity of Literature 222 A Horrible Passage in My Early Life 223 Two of a Trade 225 Omnibus Chat 226 The Two Naval Heroes ib. Tar and Feathers 227 An Acatalectic Monody 228 Third Meeting of the Bright-ish Association for the Advancement of Everything ib. Rum Corks in Stout Bottles 229 A Highway Adventure 230 Bearded like the Pard ib. Some Account of the Life and Times of Mrs. Sarah Toddles; by Sam Sly 231 The Fire at the Tower of London 233 Miss Adelaide Kemble 238 Jack Gay, Abroad and at Home; by Laman Blanchard 240 The King of Brentford's Testament; by Michael Angelo Titmarsh 244 The Fire King Flue 254 A Passage in the Life of Mr. John Leakey 255 Omnibus Chat 260 The Clerk, a Parody ib. The British Association 261 Playing on the Piano 262 November Weather 263 Mrs. Toddles ib. Jack-o'lantern 265 Christmas. By Sam Sly 266 A Snap-Dragon. By Charles Hookey Walker, Esq. 267 Sonnet to "Some One" ib. The Hom[oe]opathist's Serenade. By Dr. Bulgardo ib. What do you do that for? 268 Lines by a Y--g L--y of F--sh--on 271 The Frolics of Time. A Striking Adventure. By Laman Blanchard, Esq. 272 A Peep (Poetic) at the Age. By A. Bird 276 A Still-life Sketch 277 A Tale of an Inn 278 "Such a Duck!" 281 The Postilion 289 "The Horse by the Head" 292 A Floating Recollection 293 The Pauper's Chaunt 294 Sketches Here, There, and Everywhere 295 Mrs. Toddles 299 Sonnet to Mrs. Toddles 300 Postscript 304 LIST OF ETCHINGS ON STEEL. "DE OMNIBUS REBUS ET QUIBUSDAM ALIIS." PAGE PREFACE _to face title_ PORTRAIT OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK 1 FRANK HEARTWELL, OR FIFTY YEARS AGO. 15 COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO. I. 33 COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO II. 34 FRANK HEARTWELL'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH BRADY 47 "RUSH TO POLL"--AN ELECTION SQUIB 65 FRANK HEARTWELL AND SAMBO, IN THE HOLD OF THE TENDER 85 FRIGHTS, NO. I.--"FLYING BEADLES" 97 FRANK HEARTWELL, BEN, AND SAMBO, AMUSING THE NATIVES 116 PORTRAIT OF RACHEL IN THE CHARACTER OF MARIE STUART 129 FRIGHTS, NO. II.--"THIEVES."--"THE STRANGE CAT" 130 RICHARD BROTHERS, THE PROPHET, AT MRS. HEARTWELL'S 147 FRIGHTS, NO. III.--"GHOSTS" 161 FRANK HEARTWELL DISCOVERING TREASURE 181 A SKATING PARTY 197 FRANK HEARTWELL PREPARING TO SWIM TO THE WRECK 214 BREAKING INTO "THE JEWEL ROOM" AT THE TOWER 233 PORTRAIT OF MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE 238 FRANK HEARTWELL SEIZING BRADY 252 JACK O'LANTERN 265 FRANK HEARTWELL 287 LIST OF WOOD-CUTS. PAGE 1. The peep-show _Preface_ 2. Bust of Shakspeare with pipe 2 3. G. C. in a drawing-room 4 4. G. C. and a cabman 5 5. A pair of bellows 6 6. My last pair of Hessians 8 7. A pair of shoes 13 8. Love seeking a lodging 14 9. Monument to Napoleon 26 10. Photographic painting 29 11. The sun painting all the world and his wife 32 12. Love has legs 52 13. The ass climbing the ladder 54 14. The ass on the ladder 54 15. The boy on the ladder 54 16. Ditto 56 17. A large order 64 18. Love masquerading 75 19. Foot-boy and bread 90 20. Footman and pups 91 21. Coachman and dumplings 92 22. A rigid sense of duty 95 23. Mrs. Toddles 96 24. Leg-of-beef shop 100 25. The Flying Dutchman 106 26. Kangaroo dance 109 27. Kangaroo and fiddler 111 28. The muffin-man 120 29. The strange cat 131 30. The round hat and the cocked hat 132 31. Sailor chasing Napoleon 134 32. A passionate man 138 33. T tree 152 34. Emperor of China cutting off his own nose 153 35. Chinese cavalry 153 36. Tea-pot 154 37. The fashions 155 38. The boy's revenge 159 39. The living pincushion 159 40. Mrs. Toddles 160 41. Materials for making a ghost 163 42. The ghost 163 43. The bell-pull and the pigtail 166 44. Little Spitz 167 45. Last night of Vauxhall--the balloon 172 46. Simpson à la Shakspeare 175 47. Cupid with an umbrella 176 48. Love breaking hearts 176 49. Height of impudence 195 50. Mrs. Toddles at Margate 196 51. Ditto 196 52. The Dun 200 53. The Second Sleeper 202 54. Sliding Scale 217 55. Mile-stones--on the Rail-road 222 56. Butcher's Boy 225 57. Tar and Feathers 227 58. Corks 229 59. Turnpikeman and the Elephant 230 60. Three Figures of Fashion 230 61. Plan of the Tower of London 233 62. Bowyer Tower 235 63. Camperdown Anchor 235 64. Lady Jane's Room 236 65. The Fire-king Flue 236 66. Grenadiers playing on the Piano 262 67. Fireman playing on a Piano 263 68. Colonel Walker (or Talker) 264 69. Mrs. Toddles in a Fit 264 70. Such a Duck 281 71. The Horse by the Head 292 72. Sheer Tyranny 294 73. Sheer Kindness 294 74. Pope's Guard 296 75. Building an Angel 297 76. Mrs. Toddles in the Dickey 299 77. Mrs. T. and the Colonel dancing 299 78. As Broad as it's Long 300 [Illustration] OUR PREFACE. We have been entreated by a great many juvenile friends to "tell 'em all about our Engraved Preface in No. I.;" and entreaties from tender juveniles we never could resist. So, for their sakes, we enter into a little explanation concerning the great matters crowded into "our Preface." All children of a larger growth are, therefore, warned to skip this page if they please--it is not for them, who are, of course, familiar with the ways of the world--but only for the little dears who require a Guide to the great Globe they are just beginning to inhabit. SHOWMAN.--"Now then, my little masters and missis, run home to your mammas, and cry till they give you all a shilling apiece, and then bring it to me, and I'll show you all the pretty pictures." So now, my little masters and misses, have you each got your No. 1 ready? Always take care of that. Now then, please to look at the top of the circular picture which represents the world, and there you behold Her Majesty Queen Victoria on her throne, holding a court, with Prince Albert, in his field-marshal's uniform, by her side, and surrounded by ladies, nobles, and officers of state. A little to the right are the heads of the Universities, about to present an address. Above the throne you behold the noble dome of St. Paul's, on each side of which may be seen the tall masts of the British navy. Cast your eyes, my pretty dears, below the throne, and there you behold Mr. and Mrs. John Bull, and three little Bulls, with their little bull-dog; one little master is riding his papa's walking-stick, while his elder brother is flying his kite--a pastime to which a great many Bulls are much attached. Miss Bull is content to be a little lady with a leetle parasol, like her mamma. To the right of the kite you behold an armed man on horseback, one of those curious figures which, composed of goldbeater's skin, used to be sent up some years ago to astonish the natives; only they frightened 'em into fits, and are not now sent up, in consequence of being put down. And now you see "the world goes round." Turn your eyes a little to the right to the baloon and parachute, and then look down under the smoke of a steamer, and you behold a little sweep flourishing his brush on the chimney-top, and wishing perhaps that he was down below there with Jack-in-the-green. Now then, a little more to the right--where you see a merry dancing-group of our light-heeled and light-hearted neighbours, the leader of the party playing the fiddle and dancing on stilts, while one of his countrymen is flying his favourite national kite--viz., the soldier. In the same vicinity, are groups of German gentlemen, some waltzing, and some smoking meerschaums; near these are foot-soldiers and lancers supporting the kite-flyer. Now, near the horse, my little dears, you will see the mule, together with the Spanish muleteers, who, if not too tired, would like to take part in that fandango performed to the music of the light guitar. Look a little to the left, and you behold a quadrille-party, where a gentleman in black is pastorale-ing all the chalk off the floor; and now turn your eyes just above these, and you behold a joyful party of convivialists, with bottles in the ice-pail and bumpers raised, most likely to the health of our gracious Queen, or in honour of the Great Captain of the Age. And now, my little dears, turn your eyes in a straight line to the right, and you will perceive St. Peter's at Rome, beneath which are two young cardinals playing at leap-frog, not at all frightened at the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius which is going on in the distance. From this you must take a leap on to the camel's back, from which you will obtain a view of the party sitting just below, which consists of the grand Sultan smoking desperately against Ali Pacha. Now, look a little lower down, and you will see a famous crocodile-catcher of the Nile, said to bear a striking resemblance to Commodore Napier; and now, look upwards again to the farthest verge, and you behold the great Pyramid, and a wild horseman chasing an ostrich not so wild as himself. Now, the world goes round a little more, and you see some vast mountains, together with the temples of Hindostan; and upon the palm-tree you will find the monkeys pulling one another's tails, being very uneducated and having nothing else to do: here, also, you will discern the Indian jugglers, one throwing the balls, and another swallowing the sword, a very common thing in these parts. And now, my little dears, you can plainly see several very independent gentlemen and loyal subjects standing on their heads in presence of the Emperor of ever so many worlds, and the brother of the sun and moon; and behind these, hiding the wall of China, you will see a quantity of steam, (for they are in hot water there,) that issues from the tea-kettles. Leaving his Celestial Majesty smoking his opium, and passing the junks, temples, and pagodas, you see a Chinese joss upon his pedestal; and now you can descend and join that pretty little tea-party, where you will recognise some of your old acquaintances on tea-cups; only, if you are afraid of the lion which you see a long way off, you can turn to the left, and follow the tiger that is following the elephant like mad: and now, my little dears, you can jump for safety into that palanquin carried by the sable gentry, or perhaps you would join the party of Persians seated a little lower, only they have but one dish and no plates to eat out of. Just above this dinner-party you behold some live venison, or a little antelope eating his grass for dinner while a boa-constrictor is creeping up with the intention of dining upon him; so you had better make your way to that giraffe, who is feeding upon the tops of trees, which habit is supposed to have occasioned the peculiar shape of that remarkable quadruped; and now you fall again in the way of that ramping lion, from whose jaws a black is retreating only to encounter a black brother more savage than the wild beast. And now, if your eye follows that gang of slaves, chained neck to neck, who are being driven off to another part of the world, you will see what treatment they are doomed to experience there, in the flogging which is being administered to one of their colour--that is to say, black as the vapour issuing from that mountain in the distance; it is Chimborao, or Cotapaxi, I can't say exactly which, but it shall be whichever you please, my pretty little dears. In the smoke of it an eagle is carrying off a lamb--do you see?--Stop, let me wipe the glasses!--Ah, yes, and now you can clearly behold a gentleman of the United States smoking his cigar in his rocking-chair. A little behind is another gentleman driving his sleigh, and in front you won't fail to see an astonishing personage, who has just caught a cayman, or American crocodile, which he is balancing on his walking-stick, on purpose to amuse little boys and girls like you. At his side is the celebrated runaway nigger represented by Mr. Mathews, who says, "Me no likee confounded workee; me likee to sit in a sun, and play fiddle all day." Over his head is a steam-vessel, and at his feet an Indian canoe; towards it a volume of smoke is ascending from a fire, round which some savages are dancing with feeling too horrible to think of. So instead of stopping to dinner here, my little masters and misses, you would much rather, I dare say, take pot-luck with that group of gipsies above, who are going to regale upon a pair of boiled fowls, which I hope they came honestly by. Talking of honesty, we start upwards to the race-course; and now goes the world round again, until you get sight of a gentleman with a stick in his hand, who has evidently a great stake in the race, and who is so rejoiced at having won, that he is unconscious of what he is all the while losing in the abstraction of his pocket-book. And now we are in the midst of the fair, where we see the best booth, and merry doings in the shape of a boxing-match; but as "music has charms," turn your eyes and your ears too some little distance downwards in the direction of the organ player and the tambourine, where you will find some jovial drinkers, not far from the harp and violin of the quadrille-party. I hope their music won't be drowned by the noise of that Indian, to the left, beating the tom-tom, while the nautch-girls are dancing as if they couldn't help it, all to amuse the mighty Emperor of all the Smokers and Prince of Tobacco, who is seated, hookah in hand, in the centre of the globe--where we must leave him to his enjoyment, tracing our way back to the jovial drinking-party, where you will see Jack capering ashore, and getting on perhaps a little too fast, while the donkey-boy above him can't get on at all, and the fox-hunter, still higher up, seems to be in danger of getting off--especially if his horse should happen to be startled by his brother-sportsman's gun behind him. And now, my little dears, the gun has brought us round again to the royal guards, where the band is playing, in glorious style, God save the Queen! And thus ends, where it began, my History of the World! [Illustration: George Cruikshank] GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. "MY PORTRAIT." I respectfully beg leave to assure all to whom "My Portrait" shall come, that I am not now moved to its publication, for the first time, by any one of the ten thousand considerations that ordinarily influence modest men in presenting their "counterfeit presentments" to the public gaze. Mine would possibly never have appeared at all, but for the opportunity thus afforded me of clearing up any mistakes that may have been originated by a pen-and-ink sketch which recently appeared in a publication entitled "Portraits of Public Characters." The writer of that sketch was evidently animated by a spirit of kindness, and to kindness I am always sensitively alive; but he has been misinformed--he has represented me "as I am not," instead of "as I am;" and although it is by no means necessary that I should offer "some account of myself" in print, it is desirable that I should, without fatiguing anybody, correct some half-dozen of the errors into which my biographer has fallen. A few words of extract, and a few more of comment, and my object, as the moralist declares when he seeks to lure back _one_ sinner to the paths of virtue, will be fully attained. The sketch, which professes to be "my portrait," opens thus:-- (1.) "I believe Geo. Cruikshank dislikes the name of _artist_, as being too common-place." I have my dislikes; but it happens that they always extend to things, and never settle upon mere names. He must be a simpleton indeed who dislikes the name of artist when he is not ashamed of his art. It is possible that I may once in my life, when "very young," have said that I would rather carry a portmanteau than a portfolio through the streets; and this, perhaps from a recollection of once bearing a copper-plate, not sufficiently concealed from the eyes of an observant public, under my arm, and provoking a salutation from a little ragged urchin, shouting at the top of his voice, hand to mouth--"_There goes a copper plate en-gra-_VER!" It is true, that as I walked on I experienced a sense of the uncomfortableness of that species of publicity, and felt that the eyes of Europe were very inconveniently directed to me; but I did not, even in that moment of mortification, feel ashamed of my calling: I did not "dislike the name of artist." (2.) "When a very young man, it was doubtful whether the weakness of his eyes would not prove a barrier to his success as an artist." When a very young man, I was rather _short-sighted_, in more senses than one; but weak eyes I never had. The blessing of a strong and healthy vision has been mine from birth; and at any period of time since that event took place, I have been able, even with one eye, to see very clearly through a millstone, upon merely applying the single optic, right or left, to the centrical orifice perforated therein. But for the imputation of weakness in that particular, I never should have boasted of my capital eye; especially (as an aged punster suggests) when I am compelled to use the capital I so often in this article. (3.) "The gallery in which George first studied his art, was, if the statement of the author of 'Three Courses and a Dessert' may be depended on, the tap-room of a low public-house, in the dark, dirty, narrow lanes which branch off from one of the great thoroughfares towards the Thames. And where could he have found a more fitting place? where could he have met with more appropriate characters?--for the house was frequented, to the exclusion of everybody else, by Irish coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, scavengers, and so forth!" [Illustration] I shall mention, _en passant_, that there are _no_ Irish coal-heavers: I may mention, too, that the statement of the author adverted to is not to be depended on; were he living, I should show why. And now to the scene of my so-called "first studies." There was, in the neighbourhood in which I resided, a low public-house; it has since degenerated into a gin-palace. It was frequented by coal-heavers only, and it stood in Wilderness-lane, (I like to be particular,) between Primrose-hill and Dorset-street, Salisbury-square, Fleet-street. To this house of inelegant resort, (the sign was startling, the "Lion in the Wood,") which I regularly passed in my way to and from the Temple, my attention was one night especially attracted, by the sounds of a fiddle, together with other indications of festivity; when, glancing towards the tap-room window, I could plainly discern a small bust of Shakspeare placed over the chimney-piece, with a short pipe stuck in its mouth, thus-- This was not clothing the palpable and the familiar with golden exhalations from the dawn, but it was reducing the glorious and immortal beauty of Apollo himself to a level with the common-place and the vulgar. Yet there was something not to be quarrelled with in the association of ideas to which that object led. It struck me to be the perfection of the human picturesque. It was a palpable meeting of the Sublime and the Ridiculous; the world of Intellect and Poetry seemed thrown open to the meanest capacity; extremes had met; the highest and the lowest had united in harmonious fellowship. I thought of what the great poet had himself been, of the parts that he had played, and the wonders he had wrought, within a stone's-throw of that very spot; and feeling that even he might have well wished to be there, the pleased spectator of that lower world, it was impossible not to recognise the fitness of the pipe. It was the only pipe that would have become the mouth of a poet in that extraordinary scene; and without it, he himself would have wanted majesty and the right to be present. I fancied that Sir Walter Raleigh might have filled it for him. And _what_ a scene was that to preside over and to contemplate[1]! What a picture of life was there! It was as though Death were dead! It was _all_ life. In simpler words, I saw, on approaching the window and peeping between the short red curtains, a swarm of jolly coal-heavers! Coal-heavers all--save a few of the fairer and softer sex--the wives of some of them--all enjoying the hour with an intensity not to be disputed, and in a manner singularly characteristic of the tastes and propensities of aristocratic and fashionable society;--that is to say, they were "dancing and taking refreshments." They only did what "their betters" were doing elsewhere. The living Shakspeare, had he been, indeed, in the presence, would but have seen a common humanity working out its objects, and have felt that the _omega_, though the last in the alphabet, has an astonishing sympathy with the _alpha_ that stands first. This incident, may I be permitted to say, led me to study the characters of that particular class of society, and laid the foundation of scenes afterwards published. The locality and the characters were different, the spirit was the same. Was I, therefore, what the statement I have quoted would lead anybody to infer I was, the companion of dustmen, hodmen, coal-heavers, and scavengers? I leave out the "and so forth" as superfluous. It would be just as fair to assume that Morland was the companion of pigs, that Liston was the associate of louts and footmen, or that Fielding lived in fraternal intimacy with Jonathan Wild. (4.) "With Mr. Hone" (afterwards designated "the most noted infidel of his day") "he had long been on terms not only of intimacy, but of warm friendship." A very select class of associates to be assigned to an inoffensive artist by a friendly biographer; coal-heavers, hodmen, dustmen, and scavengers for my companions, and the most noted infidel of his day for my intimate friend! What Mr. Hone's religious creed may have been at that time, I am far from being able to decide; I was too young to know more than that he seemed deeply read in theological questions, and, although unsettled in his opinions, always professed to be a Christian. I knew also that his conduct was regulated by the strictest morality. He had been brought up to detest the Church of Rome, and to look upon the "Church of England" service as little better than popish ceremonies; and with this feeling, he parodied some portions of the Church service for purposes of political satire. But with these publications _I had nothing whatever to do_; and the instant I heard of their appearance, I entreated him to withdraw them. That I was his friend, is true; and it is true, also, that among his friends were many persons, not more admired for their literary genius, than esteemed for their zeal in behalf of religion and morals. (5.) "Not only is George a decided liberal, but his liberalism has with him all the authority of a moral law." I have already said, that I never quarrel with names, but with things; yet as so many and such opposite interpretations of the terms quoted are afloat, and as some of them are not very intelligible, I wish explicitly to enter my protest against every reading of the word "liberal," as applicable to me, save that which I find attributed to it in an old and seemingly forgotten dictionary--"Becoming a gentleman, generous, not mean." (6.) "Even on any terms his genius could not, for some time past, be said to have been marketable, Mr. Bentley the bookseller having contrived to monopolise his professional labours for publications with which he is connected." This assertion was to a certain extent true, while I was illustrating Oliver Twist and Jack Sheppard, works to which I devoted my best exertions; but so far from effecting a monopoly of my labours, the publisher in question has not for a twelvemonth past had from me more than a single plate for his monthly Miscellany; nor will he ever have more than that single plate per month; nor shall I ever illustrate any other work that he may publish. (7.) "He sometimes sits at his window to see the patrons of 'Vite Condick Ouse' on their way to that well-known locality on Sundays," &c. As my "extraordinary memory" is afterwards defined to be "something resembling a supernatural gift," it ought to enable me to recollect this habit of mine; yet I should have deemed myself as innocent of such a mode of spending the Sabbath as Sir Andrew Agnew himself, but for this extraordinary discovery. I am said to have "the most vivid remembrance of anything droll or ludicrous;" and yet I cannot remember sitting at the window "on a Sunday" to survey the motley multitude strolling towards "Vite Condick Ouse." I wish the invisible girl would sell me her secret. (8.) "He is a very singular, and, in some respects, eccentric man, considered, as what he himself would call, a 'social being.' The ludicrous and extraordinary fancies with which his mind is constantly teeming often impart a sort of wildness to his look, and peculiarity to his manner, which would suffice to _frighten from his presence_ those unacquainted with him. He is often so uncourteous and abrupt in his manner as to incur the charge of seeming rudeness." [Illustration] Though unaccustomed to spend the Sabbath day in the manner here indicated, I have never yet been regarded as _Saint_ George; neither, on the other hand, have I ever before been represented as the Dragon! Time was, when the dove was not more gentle; but now I "frighten people from my presence," and the isle from its propriety. The "Saracen's Head" is all suavity and seductiveness compared to mine. Forty thousand knockers, with all their quantity of fright, would not make up my sum. I enter a drawing-room, it may be supposed, like one prepared to go the whole griffin. Gorgons, and monsters, and chimeras dire, are concentrated by multitudes in my person. The aspect of Miss Jemima Jones, who is enchanting the assembled party with "See the conquering hero comes," instantaneously assumes the expression of a person singing "Monster, away." All London is Wantley, and all Wantley is terror-stricken wherever I go. I am as uncourteous as a gust of wind, as abrupt as a flash of lightning, and as rude as the billows of the sea. But of all this, be it known that I am "unconscious." This is acknowledged; "he is himself unconscious of this," which is true to the very letter, and very sweet it is to light at last upon an entire and perfect fact. But enjoying this happy unconsciousness--sharing it moreover with my friends, why wake me from the delusion! Why excite my imagination, and unstring my nerves, with visions of nursery-maids flying before me in my suburban walks--of tender innocents in arms frightened into fits at my approach, of five-bottle men turning pale in my presence, of banquet-halls deserted on my entrance! [Illustration] (9.) "G. C. is the only man I know moving in a respectable sphere of life who is a match for the under class of cabmen. He meets them on their own ground, and fights them with their own weapons. The moment they begin to swagger, to bluster, and abuse, he darts a _look_ at them, which, in two cases out of three, has the effect of reducing them to a tolerable state of civility; but if looks do not produce the desired results--if the eyes do not operate like oil thrown on the troubled waters, he talks to them in tones which, aided as his words and lungs are by the fire and fury darting from his eye, and the vehemence of his gesticulation, silence poor Jehu effectually," &c. Fact is told in fewer words than fiction. It so happens that I never had a dispute with a cabman in my life, possibly because I never provoked one. From me they are sure of a civil word; I generally open the door to let myself in, and always to let myself out; nay, unless they are very active indeed, I hand the money to them on the box, and shut the door to save them the trouble of descending. "The greatest is behind"--_I invariably pay them more than their fare_; and frequently, by the exercise of a generous forgetfulness, make them a present of an umbrella, pair of gloves, or a handkerchief. At times, I have gone so far as to leave them a few sketches, as an inspection of the albums of their wives and daughters (they _have_ their albums doubtless) would abundantly testify. (10.) "And yet he _can_ make himself exceedingly agreeable both in conversation and manners when he is in the humour so to do. I have met with persons who have been loaded with his civilities and attention. I _know_ instances in which he has spent considerable time in showing strangers everything curious in the house; he is a collector of curiosities." * * * * * [Illustration] No single symp---- I was about to say that no single symptom of a curiosity, however insignificant, is visible in my dwelling, when by audible tokens I was (or rather am) rendered sensible of the existence of a _pair of bellows_. Well, in these it must be admitted that we _do_ possess a curiosity. We call them "bellows," because, on a close inspection, they appear to bear a much stronger resemblance to "bellows" than to any other species of domestic implement; but what in reality they are, the next annual meeting of the great Scientific Association must determine; or the public may decide for themselves when admitted hereafter to view the precious deposit in the British Museum. In the mean time, I vainly essay to picture the unpicturable. Eccentric, noseless, broken-winded, dilapidated, but immortal, these bellows have been condemned to be burnt a thousand times at least; but they are bellows of such an obstinate turn of mind that to destroy them is impossible. No matter how imperative the order--how immediate the hour of sacrifice, they are sure to escape. So much for old maxims; we may "sing old Rose," but we cannot "burn the bellows." As often as a family accident happens--such as the arrival of a new servant, or the sudden necessity for rekindling an expiring fire, out come _the_ bellows, and forth go into the most secret and silent corners of the house such sounds of wheezing, squeaking, groaning, screaming, and sighing, as might be heard in a louder, but not more intolerable key, beneath the roaring fires of Etna. Then, rising above these mingled notes, issues the rapid ringing of two bells at once, succeeded by a stern injunction to the startled domestic "never on any account to use those bellows again," but, on the contrary, to burn, eject, and destroy them without reservation or remorse. One might as well issue orders to burn the east wind. A magic more powerful even than womanly tenderness preserves them; and six weeks afterwards forth rolls once more that world of wondrous noises. Let no one imagine that I have really sketched the bellows, unless I had sketched their multitudinous _voice_. What I have felt when drawing Punch is, that it was easy to represent his eyes, his nose, his mouth; but that the one essential was after all wanting--the _squeak_. The musician who undertook to convey by a single sound a sense of the peculiar smell of the shape of a drum, could alone picture to the _eye_ the howlings and whisperings of the preternatural bellows. Now you hear a moaning as of one put to the torture, and may detect both the motion of the engine and the cracking of the joints; anon cometh a sound as of an old beldame half inebriated, coughing and chuckling. A sigh as from the depths of a woman's heart torn with love, or the "lover sighing like furnace," succeeds to this; and presently break out altogether--each separate note of the straining pack struggling to be foremost--the yelping of a cur, the bellowing of a schoolboy, the tones of a cracked flute played by a learner, the grinding of notched knives, the slow ringing of a muffled muffin-bell, the interrupted rush of water down a leaky pipe, the motion of a pendulum that does not know its own mind, the creaking of a prison-door, and the voice of one who crieth the last dying speech and confession; together with fifty thousand similar sounds, each as pleasant to the ear as "When am I to have the eighteen-pence" would be, to a man who never had a shilling since the day he was breeched. The origin of the bellows, I know not; but a suspicion has seized me that they might have been employed in the Ark had there been a kitchen-fire there; and they may have assisted in raising a flame under the first tea-kettle put on to celebrate the laying of the first stone of the great wall of China. They are ages upon ages older than the bellows of Simple Simon's mother; and were they by him to be ripped open, they could not possibly be deteriorated in quality. The bellows which yet bear the inscription, "Who rides on these bellows? The prince of good fellows, Willy Shakspeare," are a thing of yesterday beside these, which look as if they had been industriously exercised by some energetic Greek in fanning the earliest flame of Troy. To descend to later days, they must have invigorated the blaze at which Tobias Shandy lighted his undying pipe, and kindled a generous blaze under that hashed mutton which has rendered Amelia immortal. But "the days are gone when beauty bright" followed quick upon the breath of the bellows: their effect at present is, to give the fire a bad cold; they blow an influenza into the grate. Empires rise and fall, and a century hence the bellows may be as good as new. Like puffing, they will know no end. (11.) And lastly--for the personality of this paragraph warns me to conclude--"In person G. C. is about the middle height and proportionably made. His complexion is something between _pale_ and _clear_; and his hair, which is tolerably ample, _partakes_ of a _lightish hue_. His face is of the angular form, and his forehead has a _prominently receding_ shape." As Hamlet said to the ghost, I'll go no further! The indefinite complexion, and the hair "partaking" of an opposite hue to the real one, may be borne; but I stand, not upon my head, but on my forehead! To a man who has once passed the Rubicon in having dared to publish his portrait, the exhibition of his mere profile can do no more injury than a petty larceny would after the perpetration of a highway robbery. But why be tempted to show, by an outline, that my forehead is innocent of a shape (the "prominently receding" one) that never yet was visible in nature or in art? Let it pass, till it can be explained. "He delights in a handsome pair of whiskers." Nero had one flower flung upon his tomb. "He has somewhat of a dandified appearance." Flowers soon fade, and are cut down; and this is the "unkindest cut of all." I who, humbly co-operating with the press, have helped to give permanence to the name of dandy--I who have all my life been breaking butterflies upon wheels in warring against dandyism and dandies--am at last discovered to be "somewhat" of a dandy myself. "Come Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves--" as you may;--but, dandies all, I have not done with you yet. To resume. "He used to be exceedingly partial to Hessian boots." I confess to the boots; but it was when they were worn even by men who walked on loggats. I had legs. Besides, I was very young, and merely put on my boots to _follow_ the fashion. "His age, if his looks be not deceptive, is _somewhere between_ forty-three and forty-five." A very obscure and elaborated mode of insinuating that I am forty-_four_. "Somewhere between!" The truth is--though nothing but extreme provocation should induce me to proclaim even truth when age is concerned,--that I am "somewhere between" twenty-seven and sixty-three, or I may say sixty-four;--but I hate exaggeration. _Exit_, G. CK. FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 1: An exact representation of it will embellish a future "Omnibus."] MY LAST PAIR OF HESSIAN BOOTS. "Ah! sure a pair was never seen So justly formed--" [Illustration] Hoby would say, that as "all are not men who bear the human form," so all are not boots that bear the pedal shape. All boots, for example, are not Hessians; nor are all Hessians like my last pair. Mathews used to tell a story of some French Hoby, who, having with incredible genius constructed a pair of boots, which Tom Thumb when a little boy could no more have got on than Cinderella's sister could the magic slipper, refused to part with them for any sum of money--he had "made them in a moment of enthusiasm." Myriads of such moments were consumed in the construction of my last pair. The boots published by Mr. Warren in magazines and country newspapers, exhibiting the grinning portrait of a gentleman in the interesting act of shaving, or a cat bristling up and outwondering Katerfelto, were vulgar in form, and dull of polish, beside mine Hessians. Pleasant it was, just as I was budding into life, to draw them on, and sit with one knee crossing the other, to contemplate my favourite leg. I used to wish myself a centipede, to wear fifty pairs of Hessians at a time. To say that the boots "fitted like gloves" would be to pay the most felicitous pair of white kids a compliment. They had just as many natural wrinkles as they ought to have; and for the tassels--we have all seen the dandies of that day take out a comb, and comb the tassels of their fire-bucket-looking boots as often as they got into disorder; but mine needed no aid from such trickery and finessing. I had strolled forth at the decline of a day in spring, and had afterwards dined at Long's--my boots and I. They had evidently been the admiration of every observer. I was entirely satisfied with _them_, and consequently with myself. Returned home, a pair of slippers was substituted for them, and with my feet on the fender and the vapour of a cigar enwrapping me like a dressing-gown, I sat contemplating "my boots." Thought reverted to the fortunes of my Lord Marquis of Carabas, and I saw in my Hessians a brighter destiny than Puss in hers won for him. I thought too of the seven-leagued boots of my ancient friends the Ogres, and felt that I could take Old and New Bond Streets at a step. That night those boots melted into thin air. There was "nothing like leather" visible there in the morning. My golden vision had vanished as suddenly as Alnaschar's--only his perished amidst the crash and clatter of a basket of crockery kicked into the clouds; mine had stolen away in solemn silence. Not a creak was heard, yet the Hessians were gone. It was the remark of my housekeeper that boots could not go without hands. Such boots I thought might possibly have walked off by themselves. But when it was discovered that a window-shutter had been forced open, and sundry valuables carried away, it was plain that some conceited and ambitious burglar had eloped with my boots. The suspicion was confirmed by the detection of a pair of shoes conscientiously left behind, on the principle that exchange is no robbery. Ugh!--such shoes. Well might I declare that nothing like leather was visible. What odious feet had been thrust into my desecrated Hessians! I put my legs into mourning for their loss; and, convinced that I should never procure such another pair, sank from that moment into mere Wellingtons. It was not long after this, that, seated in a coffee-room in Piccadilly, my attention was drawn to the indolent and comfortable attitude of a person, who, with his legs stretched conspicuously along the cushioned bench, was reading a newspaper. How it was I can hardly tell; but my eye was irresistibly attracted to his boots, just as Othello's was to the handkerchief bound round the wounded limb of Cassio. He seemed to be proud of them; they were ostentatiously elevated into view. The boots were Hessians. Though not now worn in their very "newest gloss," they were yet in excellent, I may say in enviable condition. My anxious glance not only wandered over their polished surface, but seemed to penetrate to their rich bright linings, the colour whereof was now no more a secret to me than were those silken tassels that dangled to delight the beholder. I knew _my_ boots again. The wearer, having the newspaper spread before his face, could not notice any observation directed to his lower extremities; my opportunity of inspection therefore was complete. They _were_ my Hessians. My first impulse was to ring the bell for a boot-jack, and claim them upon the spot; but before I could do so the stranger suddenly sprang upon his feet, seized his hat, and with one complacent glance at those tasselled habiliments, which were far from having lost all their "original brightness," swaggered out of the coffee-room. Curiosity prompted me to follow--I caught a glimpse of the bright backs of my boots as they flashed round the corner of a neighbouring street. Pursuing them, I surveyed the wearer; and now perceived that not even those incomparable Hessians could transform a satyr into Hyperion, or convert a vulgar strut into the walk of a gentleman. Those boots were never made for such limbs--never meant to be "sported" after so villanous a fashion. You could see that his calves were indifferently padded, and might have sworn the swaggerer was a swell blackleg--one of the shabby-genteel, and visibly-broken-down class. Accordingly, after a turn or two, it was anything but surprising to see him squeeze himself into a narrow passage over the door of which was written the word "Billiards." I heard my boots tramping up the dingy staircase to which the passage led--and my feet, as though from sympathy, and what the philosopher calls the "eternal fitness of things," were moving after them--when the "_cui bono?_" forcibly occurred to my mind! If I should demand my Hessians, was there a probability of obtaining them? and if I should obtain them, was there a possibility of my ever wearing them again? Could I think of treading in the boots of a blackleg, albeit they never were his own? No, I gave them up to the profanation which was their destiny. I called up Hamlet's reflection on the vile uses to which we may return; and as for the gambler, who in once virtuous boots threaded the paths of vice and depravity, I kicked him--"with my mind's toe, Horatio"--and passed on. Shakspeare, in one of the most touching and beautiful of his sonnets, tells us how he bemoaned his outcast state, "And troubled deaf heaven with his bootless cries;" but with no such cries of mine is the reader doomed to be troubled. Indeed, when I parted from my Hessians on the occasion referred to, I never dreamed of mentioning them more. I had heard, as it seemed, their last creak. Not only were they out of sight, but out of mind. It appeared just as likely that I should ever again be excited on their account, as that I should hang them up à-la-General-Bombastes, and make war upon their adventurous displacer. Yet it was not three months after the event recorded, that in the city, in broad-daylight, my hat was all but lifted off by the sudden insurrection of my hair, on recognising my boots again. Yes, the very boots that once were mine, "_et nullus error!_" or, as we say in English, "and no mistake!" As easily to be identified were they as the freckled, wrinkled, shrunken features of a beloved friend, parted from in plump youth. I knew my boots, if I may so say, by their _expression_. Altered as they were, to me were they the same:--"alike, but oh! how different." "The light of other days had faded." It could not be said of either Hessian, that it figured on a "leg" this time. The wearer was evidently a collector in the "cast-off" line--had been respectable, and was still bent on keeping up appearances. This was plainly indicated by the _one_ tassel which the pair of boots yet boasted between them--a brown-looking remnant of grandeur, and yet a lively compromise with decay. The poor things were sadly distorted; the heels were hanging over, illustrating the downward tendency of the possessor; and there was a _leetle_ crack visible at the side. They were Dayless and Martinless--dull as a juryman--worn out like a cross-examined witness. They would take water like a teetotaller. There was scarcely a kick left in them. They were in a decline of the galloping sort; and appeared just capable of lasting out until an omnibus came by. A walk of a mile would have ensured emancipation to more than one of the toes that inhabited them. My once "lovely companions" were faded, but not gone. It was my fortune to meet them again soon afterwards, still further eastward. The recognition, as before, was unavoidable. They were _the_ boots, but "translated" out of themselves; another pair, yet the same. The heels were handsomely cobbled up with clinking iron tips, and a worsted tassel of larger dimensions had been supplied to match the remaining silk one. The boots thus regenerated rendered a rather equivocal symmetry to the legs of an attorney's clerk, whose life was spent in endless errands with copies of writs to serve, and in figuring at "free-and-easys" and spouting-clubs. They were well able to bear him on his daily and nightly rounds, for the new soles were thicker than any client's head in Christendom. This change led me naturally enough into some profound speculations upon "wear and tear," and much philosophical musing on the absorption and disappearance of soles and heels after a given quantity of perambulation. But while I was wondering into what substances and what shapes the old leather might be passing, and also how much of my own original self (for we all become other people in time) might yet be remaining unto me, I lost sight for ever of the lawyer's clerk, but not of my boots--for I suspect he effected some legal transfer of them to a client who was soon as legally transferred to the prison in Whitecross-street; since, passing that debtors' paradise soon after, I saw the identical boots (the once pale blue lining was now of _no_ colour) carried out by an aged dame, who immediately bent her steps, like one well acquainted with the way, towards "mine uncle's" in the neighbourhood. Hessians that can escape from a prison may work their way out of a pawnbroker's custody; and my Hessians had something of the quality of the renowned slippers of Bagdad,--go where they might, they were sure to meet the eye of their original owner. The next time I saw the boots, they were on the foot-board of a hackney-coach; yea, on the very feet of the Jarvey. But what a falling-off! translation was no longer the word. They had suffered what the poet calls a sea-change. The tops were cut round; the beautiful curve, the tassels, all had vanished. One boot had a patch on one side only; the other, on both. I thought of the exclamation of Edmund Burke,--"The glory of Europe is extinguished for ever!" Instinct told me they were _the_ boots; but-- "The very Hoby who them made, Beholding them so sore decay'd, He had not known his work." I hired the coach, and rode behind my own boots: the speculative fit again seized me. I recollected how "All that's bright must fade," and "moralized the spectacle" before me. How many had I read of--nay seen and known--who had started in life like my boots,--bright, unwrinkled, symmetrical,--and who had sunk by sure degrees, by wanderings farther and farther among the puddles and kennels of society, even into the same extremity of unsightly and incurable distortion. ----"Not Warren, nor Day and Martin, Nor all the patent liquids o' the earth, Shall ever brighten them with that jet black They owed in former days." My very right to my own property had vanished. They had ceased to be _my_ boots; they were ceasing to be _boots_. They cost me something nevertheless; for having in my perturbation merely told the driver to "drive on," he took me to Bayswater instead of Covent-garden; and, as the price of my abstraction, abstracted seven-and-six-pence as his fare. From a hackney-coachman they seem to have descended to the driver of what had once been a donkey; to one who cried "fine mellow pears," "green ripe gooseberries," and other hard and sour assistants in the destruction of the human race. This I discovered one day by seeing "my boots" dragged to a police-office (their owner in them), where indeed one of the pair--if pair they might still be called--figured as a credible witness; it having been employed as a weapon, held by the solitary strap that yet adhered to it, for inflicting due punishment on the head of its master's landlord, a ruffian who had had the brutal inhumanity to tap at the door of an innocent tenant, and ask for his rent. It is probable that in this skirmish they sustained some damage, and required "renovation" once more; for I subsequently saw them at one of those "cobbler's-stalls" which are fast disappearing (the stall becoming a shop, and the shop an emporium), with an intimation in chalk upon the soles--"to be sold." Of the original Hessians nothing remained but a portion of the leggings. They had been soled and re-soled; the old patches had disappeared; and there was now a patch upon the new fronts which they had acquired. Having had them _from_ the last, _to_ the last I resolved to track them; and now found them in the possession of a good ancient watchman of the good ancient time in Fleet-street, from whose feet, however, they were one night treacherously stolen as he sat quietly slumbering in his box. The boots wandered once more into vicious paths, having become the property of a begging-letter impostor of that day, in whose company they were seen to stagger out of a gin-shop--then to run away with their tenant--to bear him, all unconscious of kennels, on both sides of the road, faster than lamplighter or postman can travel--and finally to trip him up against the machine of a "needy knifegrinder" (his nose coming into collision with the revolving stone), who, compassionating the naked feet of his seemingly penniless and sober fellow-lodger, had that very morning presented him with part of a pair of boots, as being better than no shoe-leather. This fragmentary donation was the sad remnant of my Hessians--the "last remains of princely York." When we give a pair of old boots to the poor, how little do we consider into what disgusting nooks and hideous recesses they may carry their new owner! Let no one shut up the coffers of his heart, or check even momentarily the noble impulse of charity; but it is curious to note what purposes a bashful maiden's left-off finery may be made to serve on the stage of a show at Greenwich fair; how an honest matron's muff, passed into other hands, may be implicated in a case of shop-lifting; how the hat of a great statesman may come to be handed round to ragamuffins for a collection of half-pence for the itinerant conjuror; or how the satin slippers of a countess may be sandalled on the aching feet of a girl whose youth is one weary and wretched caper upon stilts! "My Hessians"--neither mine, nor Hessians, now--were on their last legs. Theirs had not been "a beauty for ever unchangingly bright." They had experienced their decline; their fall was nigh. Their earliest patchings suggested, as a similitude, the idea of a Grecian temple, whose broken columns are repaired with brick; the brick preponderates as ruin prevails, until at length the original structure is no more. The boots became one patch! Such were they on that winter-morn, when a ruddy-faced "translator" sat at his low door, on a low stool, the boots on his lap undergoing examination. After due inspection, his estimate of their value was expressed by his adopting the expedient of Orator Henley; that is to say, by cutting the legs off, and reducing what remained of their pride to the insignificance of a pair of shoes; which, sold in that character to a match-vender, degenerated after a few weeks into slippers. _Sic transit_, &c. Of the appropriation of the amputated portion no very accurate account can be rendered. Fragments of the once soft and glossy leather furnished patches for dilapidated goloshes; a pair or two of gaiter-straps were extricated from the ruins; and the "translator's" little boy manufactured from the remains a "sucker," of such marvellous efficacy that his father could never afterwards keep a lapstone in the stall. As for the slippers, improperly so called, they pinched divers corns, and pressed various bunions in their day, as the boots, their great progenitors, had done before them, sliding, shuffling, shambling, and dragging their slow length along; until in the ripeness of time, they, with other antiquities, were carried to Cutler-street, and sold to a venerable Jewess. She, with knife keen as Shylock's, ripped off the soles--all besides was valueless even to her--and, not without some pomp and ceremony, laid them out for sale on a board placed upon a crippled chair. Yes, for sale; and to that market for soles there soon chanced to repair an elderly son of poverty; who, having many little feet running about at home made shoes for them himself. The soles became his; and thus of the apocryphal remains of my veritable Hessians, was there just sufficient leather left to interpose between the tender feet of a child, and the hard earth, his mother! [Illustration] ON A WICKED SHOEMAKER. You say he has sprung from Cain;--rather Confess there's a difference vast: For Cain was a son of the _first_ father While he is "a son of the last." [Illustration] LOVE SEEKING A LODGING. At Leila's heart, from day to day, Love, boy-like, knock'd, and ran away; But Love grown older, seeking then "Lodgings for single gentlemen," Return'd unto his former ground, And knock'd, but no admittance found-- With his rat, tat, tat. His false alarms remember'd still. Love, now in earnest, fared but ill; For Leila in her heart could swear, As still he knock'd, "There's no one there." A single god, he then essay'd With single knocks to lure the maid-- With his single knock. Each passer-by, who watch'd the wight, Cried "Love, you won't lodge there to-night!" And love, while listening, half confess'd That all was dead in Leila's breast. Yet, lest that light heart only slept, Bold Love up to the casement crept-- With his tip, tap, tap. No answer;--"Well," cried Love, "I'll wait, And keep off Envy, Fear, and Hate; No other passion there shall dwell, If I'm shut out--why, here's a bell!" He rang; the ring made Leila start, And Love found lodgings in her heart-- With his magic ring. L. B. [Illustration: Designed Etched & Published by George Cruikshank May 1st 1841.] FRANK HEARTWELL; OR FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER I. It was about half a century ago in the closing twilight of an autumnal evening at that period of the season when the falling of the sear and yellow leaves indicated the near approach of winter, that a lady was seated at work in one of those comfortable parlours which, as far as the memory of living man can go back, were at all times considered essential to an Englishman's ideas of enjoyment, and which certainly were not and are not to be found, approaching to the same degree of commodious perfection, in any other part of the world. By her side sat a beautiful boy some seven or eight years of age, whose dark glossy ringlets hung clustering down his shoulders over the broad and open white cambric collar of his shirt. His full and fair face bore the ripened bloom of ruddy health, and his large blue eyes, even though a child, were strongly expressive of tenderness and love. The lady herself was fair to look upon, possessing a placid cast of countenance which, whilst it invited esteem and confidence, calmly repelled impertinence or disrespect; her eyes, like those of her son, were mild and full, and meltingly blue, and through the shades of long dark lashes discoursed most eloquently the language of affectionate solicitude and fond regard; and it was impossible to look upon them, or be looked upon by them, without experiencing a glow of pleasure, warming and nourishing all the better feelings and purposes of the heart. In age she was twenty-six, but matronly anxiety gave her the appearance of being some two or three years older; her figure was faultless, and the tight sleeve of her gown fitting closely to her arm, and confined with a bracelet of black velvet at the wrist, displayed the form of a finely moulded limb; and the painter or the sculptor would have been proud to copy from so admirable a model. The floor of the room was covered with a soft Turkey carpet, which, though somewhat faded, still retained in many parts its richness of colours. The panelled walls were of oak that had endured for more than one generation; and though time had thrown his darkened shadows over them, as if to claim them for his own, art had been called in aid, if not to defeat his claims, yet to turn them to advantage; for the blackened wood was polished to a mirror-like brightness, and instead of dispensing gloom, its reflections were light and cheerful. Suspended in the upper compartments and surrounded with oval frames, tastefully carved and gilt, were well executed portraits by the celebrated masters of those and earlier days. Between the two windows, where the whole of the light was thrown upon the person, hung suspended a pier looking-glass in a well-carved mahogany frame surrounded by the plume of the Prince of Wales, bearing the appropriate motto for the reflecting tablet itself, "Ich Dien;" and at the corners, in open work, were cut full-ripe ears of corn in their golden glory, sheaved together with true-love knots. In one angle of the room stood a lofty circular dumb-waiter, its planes decreasing as they rose in altitude and bearing a display of wine-glasses with those long white tortuous spiral columns, which, like the screw of Archimedes, has puzzled older heads than those of childhood to account for the everlasting turns. There were, also, massive articles of plate of various periods, from the heavy spoons with the sainted apostles effigied at the extremity of the handles, to the silver filigree wrought sugar-stand, with its basin of blue enamelled glass. There were also numerous figures of ancient China, more remarkable for their fantastic shapes than either for ornament or for use. The tables were of dark mahogany, the side slabs curiously deviced, and the legs assuming something of an animal form with the spreading paw of the lion or the tiger on each foot. One table, however, that was carefully placed so as to be remote from danger, had a raised open-work, about two inches in height, round the edges of its surface, to protect and preserve the handsome and much-prized tea-service, which had been brought by a seafaring ancestor as a present from the "Celestial Empire." A commodious, soft-cushioned, chintz-covered sofa occupied one side of the parlour, and the various spaces were filled with broad and high-backed mahogany chairs, whose capacious seats were admirable representatives of composure and ease. But there was one with wide-spreading arms, that seemed to invite the weary to its embrace; it was stuffed with soft material, and covered entirely with thick yellow taffeta, on which many an hour of laborious toil had been expended to produce in needle-work imitations of rich fruit and gorgeous flowers; it was a relic of antiquity, and the busy fingers that had so skilfully plied the task had long since yielded to mouldering decay. The fire-place was capacious, and its inner sides were faced with earthenware tiles, on which were represented scenes and sketches taken from scripture history. It is true that some of the delineations bore a rather incongruous character: the serpent erecting itself on the tip of its tail to beguile Eve; the apple, whose comparative dimensions was calculated to set the mouth of many a schoolboy watering; and not unfrequently a mingling of the Selectæ e Profanis amongst the groups caused curious speculations in the youthful mind. But who can call to recollection the many evening lectures which this constant fund of instruction and amusement afforded, without associating them with pleasing remembrances of innocence and peace? The fire-grate was large, and of the old-fashioned kind, somewhat of a basket-like form, small at the bottom, but spreading out into wider range as its side boundaries ascended. Lighted tapers were on the table, together with a lady's work-box, and the small, half-rigged model of a vessel, which the boy had laid down that he might peruse the history and voyages of Philip Quarll, and now, sitting by his mother's knee, he was putting questions to her relative to the sagacious monkeys who were stated to have been poor Philip's personal attendants and only friends. Emily Heartwell was, in every sense of the term, the "beloved" wife of a lieutenant in the British royal navy, who had bravely served with great credit to himself and advantage to the honour of his country's flag; but unfortunately becoming mixed up with the angry dissensions that had arisen amongst political partisans through the trial of Admiral Keppel by court-martial, he remained for some length of time unemployed, but recently, through the influence and intervention of his former commander and patron, Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney, he had received an appointment to a ship-of-the-line that was then fitting out to join that gallant admiral in the West Indies. The father of Lieutenant Heartwell had risen from humble obscurity to the command of a West Indiaman; and his son having almost from his childhood accompanied him in his voyages, the lad had become early initiated in the perils and mysteries of a seaman's life, so that on parting with his parent he was perfectly proficient in all the important duties that enable the mariner to counteract the raging of the elements, and to navigate his ship in safety from port to port. What became of the father was never accurately known. He was bound to Jamaica with a valuable cargo of home manufactures; he was spoken off the Canaries, and reported all well; but from that day no tidings of him had been heard, and it was supposed that the ship had foundered at sea, and all hands perished. By some fortuitous circumstance, young Heartwell had been brought under the especial notice of the intrepid Rodney, who not only placed him on the quarter-deck of his own ship, but also generously patronised and maintained him through his probationary term, and at its close, though involved in difficulties himself, first procured him a lieutenant's commission, and then presented him with a handsome outfit, cautioning him most seriously, as he was a good-looking fellow, not to get entangled by marriage, at least, till he had attained post-rank, or was regularly laid up with the gout, when he was perfectly at liberty to take unto himself a wife. But the lieutenant had a pure, unsophisticated mind, sensibly alive to all the blandishments of female beauty, but with discretion to avoid that which he considered meretricious, and to prize loveliness of feature only when combined with principles of virtue rooted in the heart. Ardently attached to social life, it can excite but little wonder that on mature acquaintance with the lady who now bore his name, he had forgotten the injunction of his commander; and, being possessed of a little property, the produce of well-earned prize-money, he offered himself to the acceptance of one who appeared to realise his most fervent expectations; and, when it is considered that to a remarkably handsome person the young lieutenant united some of the best qualities of human nature, my fair readers will at once find a ready reason for his suit not being rejected. In short, they were married. The father of Mrs. Heartwell, a pious clergyman, performed the ceremony, and certainly in no instance could there have been found two persons possessing a stronger attachment, based on mutual respect and esteem. An uncle, the brother of the lieutenant's father had, when a boy, gone out to the East Indies, but he kept up very little communication with his family, and they had for some time lost sight of him altogether, when news arrived of his having prospered greatly, and the supposition was that he had amassed a considerable fortune. As this intelligence, however, was indirect, but little credit was given to it, and it probably would have passed away from remembrance, or at least been but little thought of, had not letters arrived announcing the uncle's death, and that no will could be discovered. The lieutenant, as the only surviving heir, was urged to put in his claim; and, though he himself was not very sanguine in his expectations that his uncle had realised a large fortune, yet it gratified him to think that there might be sufficient to assist in securing a respectable and comfortable maintenance for his wife and child during his absence. From an earnest desire to surprise Mrs. Heartwell with the pleasing intelligence, he had for the first time since their union refrained from informing her of his proceedings; and on the afternoon of the day on which our narrative opens, he had appointed to meet certain parties connected with the affair at the office of Mr. Jocelyn Brady, a reputed clever solicitor in Lincoln's Inn, when the whole was to be finally arranged, and the deeds and papers placed in his possession in the presence of witnesses. Cherishing not only the hope, but also enjoying the conviction, that in a short time he should be able to gladden her heart, the lieutenant imprinted a warm and affectionate kiss on the lips of his wife, and pressing his boy in his arms with more than his usual gaiety, he bade them farewell for a few hours, promising at his return to communicate something that would delight and astonish them. But, notwithstanding the hilarity of her husband, an unaccountable depression weighed heavily on the usually cheerful spirits of Mrs. Heartwell; and, whilst returning the embrace of her husband, a presentiment of distress, though she knew not of what nature or kind, filled her bosom with alarm; and a heavy sigh--almost a groan--burst forth before she had time to exercise consciousness, or to muster sufficient energy to restrain it. The prospect of, and the near approach to, the hour of their separation, had certainly oppressed her mind, but she would not distress her husband by openly yielding to the manifestation of grief that might render their parting more keenly painful. She had vigorously exerted all her fortitude to bear up against the anticipated trial which awaited her, of bidding a long adieu to the husband of her affections and the father of her child; but the pressure which now inflicted agony was of a different character to what she had hitherto experienced. It was a foreboding of calamity as near at hand, an undefined and undefinable sensation, producing faintness of spirit and sickness of heart; her limbs trembled, her breath faltered, and she laid her head upon his shoulder and burst into convulsive sobbings, that shook her frame with violent agitation. I am no casuist to resolve doubtful cases, but I would ask many thousands who have to struggle with the anxious cares, the numerous disappointments, and all the various difficulties that beset existence, whether they have not had similar distressing visitations, previous to the arrival of some unforeseen calamity. What is it, then, that thus operates on the faculties to produce these symptoms? It cannot be a mere affection of the nervous system, caused by alarming apprehensions of the future, for, in most instances, nothing specific has been known or decided. May it not, therefore, be looked upon as a wise and kind ordination of providence, to prepare the mind for disastrous events that are to follow? The lieutenant raised the drooping head of his wife, earnestly gazed on her expressive countenance, kissed away her tears, and then exclaimed, "How is this, Emily? what! giving way to the indulgence of sorrow at a moment when prosperity is again extending the right hand of good-fellowship? We have experienced adverse gales, my love, but we have safely weathered them; and now that we have the promise of favourable breezes and smooth sailing, the prospect of renewed joy should gladden your heart." "But are you not soon to leave me, Frank?" returned Mrs. Heartwell, as she strove to subdue the feelings which agitated her, "and who have I now in the wide world but you?" The lieutenant fervently and fondly pressed her to his heart, whilst with a mingled look of gentle reproach and ardent affection he laid his disengaged hand on the head of his boy, who raising his tear-suffused eyes to the countenance of his mother, as he endeavoured to smile, uttered, "Do not be afraid mama, I will protect you till papa comes back!" The silent appeal of her husband and the language of her child promptly recalled the wife and the parent to a sense of her marital and maternal duties--she instantly assumed a degree of cheerfulness; and the lieutenant engaging to be home as early as practicable, took his departure to visit his professional adviser. The only male attendant (and he was looked upon more in the character of a humble friend than as a servant) on the lieutenant's establishment was an attached and faithful seaman, of some five-and-thirty years of age, who had undeviatingly adhered to the fortunes of his officer from the first moment of his entering into the naval service. He had served under Rodney from boyhood, first in the Prince George ninety-eight--then in the Dublin seventy-four; and, subsequently, when the admiral hoisted his flag, he accompanied him in his career of glory, and was present in those memorable engagements which ultimately raised the British ensign to its proud supremacy on the ocean. Possessed of a lively and contented turn of mind, Ben Brailsford was always cheerful and gay--his temper and his disposition coincided--there was, at all times, a pleasant smile upon his cheek and a kind word upon his tongue, and, in point of fact, his only faults were an occasional indulgence to excess in his favourite beverage--grog, and his still more excessive loquacity when spinning a tough yarn about his favourite commander, Rodney, though it not unfrequently happened that one helped on the other. I have already remarked that young Frank--for he was named after his father--was by his mother's side, and questioning her upon the subject of Philip Quarll's monkeys--but though desirous of imparting instruction to her son, yet her spirit was too much bowed down even to attend to him; besides, this was a matter of natural history with which she was but little acquainted, and, therefore, he was referred to honest Ben, as the best authority to answer his inquiries. Ben was accordingly summoned, and smoothing down his hair over his forehead with his hard horny hand as he entered the room, he "hoped as madam was well and master Frank all ship-shape." "I am thinking of your master's departure, Ben," returned the lady, "and therefore cannot be very easy in my mind, when I consider the risks to which he will be exposed on the turbulent ocean, both in the storm and in the battle." "Bless you, my lady," returned the seaman, "what's the vally of a bit of a breeze, where there's skill and judgment to read the face of the heavens, and good practical seamanship to ease her with the helm, when the wild seas break over us--and as for a fight, why its pretty sharp work whilst it lasts, but when it's over and the grog abroach--not, my lady, as I ever gives way to more than does me good--but as I was a saying, when the action's ended and the grog sarved out"--and here he cast his eyes towards a well-replenished liquor-case that stood in the corner, and from which he had often been supplied--"why we shares it along with our prisoners, and drinks to the mortal memory of them as is gone." "But it must be a dreadful spectacle, Ben, to witness the dead and the dying mingled together," said the lady, with a shudder, "the slain and the wounded in one promiscuous heap." "Bless you, my lady, that comes o' not knowing the jometry of the thing," returned Brailsford, in a tone and expression that evidenced experience; "they aren't by no manner o' means in one permiskus heap, for as soon as we find an onfortinate shipmate has let go the life-lines--and its easy diskivered by pressing the hand over the heart and feeling for the pallypitation--just for all the world Master Frank, as you'd listen for the ticking of a watch in a noisy place--and if so be as you don't find that there's not never no wibration, but all is motionless, from the main-spring having been carried away, so that the wheels have run down, why we knows well enough that the doctor's knife and all his medicine chest wouldn't get him to lend a hand to run out another gun, or rouse aboard the main-tack--so we launches him out at the port as expended stores, and we turns-to with a hearty good will to avenge his death." "But do they serve the officers so?" inquired Mrs. Heartwell, whose cheeks had become blanched during the plain recital of the seaman; "surely there is some funeral ceremony, some--" and she paused. "Bless you, my lady, what's the odds so as you're happy," responded Ben, scratching his head, whilst a good-humoured smile mantled over his face; "but the real truth of the thing is, that the officers being a sort of privileged class, expect a cast of the chaplin's _wadee mecum_--that's the parson's Latin for prayer-book, Master Frank; but to my thinking a poor dev--that is, I means an onfortinate as sticks his spoon in the beckets for a full-due and loses the number of his mess, whilst sarving his country heart and soul--has rubbed out a multitude of sins whilst sponging his gun in the regard of dooty." "I dearly love my country, Ben; I should be unworthy the name of Englishwoman if I did not," returned the lady with fervour, as in the course of conversation she endeavoured to overcome her depression; "but why fight at all?" This query to one of Rodney's tars would have been quite sufficient, had the law been administered then as it is in the present day, to have subjected the questioner to a commission of lunacy; and Ben gave his mistress an earnest look, shading his eyes with his hand that he might not be deceived by the glare of the lights. At first he thought she was in joke, but finding from the unchangeableness of her countenance that she was serious, he replied-- "Well, my lady, in regard o' the upshot of fighting, it isn't for an onedecated tar like myself to dilute upon the religion of the thing; but, bless you, my lady, suppose as you had the English ensign hoisted on the staff, or, for the matter o' that, at the gaff-end, and an enemy was to dare to presume to be so onveterate bould as to fire a shot at it;" he warmed as he proceeded, "why wouldn't you, my lady, open your ports and run out your guns for the honour of ould England's glory? And when your guns are run out, why what's the use on 'em if you don't clap a match to the touch-holes and pour in a reg'lar broadside?" "Oh, it must be horrible work, Ben," said Mrs. Heartwell, as the picture of her husband, mangled and dying, was visibly presented to her view; "you throw the supposed dead overboard without being certain that life is extinct--" "Avast, my lady, avast; we never does that--no, no; a shipmate or a messmate aren't so easily expended," returned Ben, with a solemn shake of the head. "But there's a sort of nat'ral inkstink amongst us tars--a kind of cable-splice with each other, so that we knows at once as well as any doctor as ever sarved his time at pill-building when the strands are drawn, and the craft has slipped from its moorings; that is, my lady, jist as this here, we can tell in a moment when a shipmate or messmate has broke adrift and got beyond hail; bless you, they're all _distinct_ afore we gives 'em a launch, and as for the wounded, why they're carried below to the cockpit to get dressed, or to have their precious limbs lopped off like old junk, condemned as onsarviceable. But what's the odds, my lady, so as you're happy?" One of Ben's peculiarities, and which long habit had rendered perfectly familiar to him, was the general use of the expression "What's the odds so as you're happy?" and as he mostly contrived to lug it in whatever the course of conversation might be, it often happened that it found utterance on very inappropriate occasions. The idea of happiness connected with the amputating of a limb would never have entered the mind of any other person than Ben; but his mistress was too much accustomed to the humane and generous disposition of the worthy seaman to suppose that he was indulging in levity, or ridiculing distress; she was perfectly aware that all Ben intended to convey was, that "a contented mind might be supported under every trial and misfortune." Young Frank had listened, as he always did, very attentively to Ben's explanations and descriptions, and though the delicate sensibilities of the lad were very naturally wounded by the recital of narratives of deeds of blood and violence, yet when the seaman entered upon details of chivalrous enterprise connected with the necessity of asserting his country's honour, his youthful heart would glow with earnest desire to be enrolled amongst the brave of his native land. His mother had discouraged his unmatured but ambitious aspirings; her maternal solicitude had looked forward with sickening dread at the thoughts of her only child being exposed to the perils of the ocean. She had endured the long-suffering of anxious care and hope deferred during the absence of her husband, and her very soul dwelt with increased alarm and apprehension on the probability that not only would an additional weight of anxiety and distress encumber the every-day circumstances of life should her boy become a mariner, but there was also the certainty that in his departure she would lose one of the principal props to animated existence; the dear little companion of her leisure hours, with whom she could unreservedly converse upon a subject that was ever uppermost in her thoughts,--his father. Then the idea of loneliness preyed upon her mind; and, there is something so cold and chilling in the thoughts of being left alone in the world, cut off from connexions that were once eminently endearing to the affections, to sit hour after hour, and day after day, communing with one's own sad heart, to pass the nights in sleepless retrospection, as visions of past enjoyment flit in pleasing array before the imagination, and then to turn the mind's eye to the obscure but dreaded events of the coming future, where all is darkened by gloomy forebodings; there is a keen and horrible distress in such meditative contemplations, that is calculated to waste the stoutest frame, and to unsettle the soundest reason; and happy indeed are they who seek for consolation from whence it alone can be obtained. Although Mrs. Heartwell experienced more pain than pleasure at Ben's recitals of storms and battles, yet she not unfrequently provoked him into narratives of danger and of death, for the purpose--as she hoped--of deterring her son from entering upon so hazardous an occupation as that of a seaman. But whilst she partially succeeded in awakening the acute sensibilities of the lad as to the difficulties to be encountered, so also was the pride and curiosity of an adventurous spirit aroused, and young Frank grew more attached to the interesting accounts of foreign lands, and delineations of distant countries, than frightened at the tales of the battle and the breeze. Philip Quarll had been laid aside whilst Ben stood conversing with his mistress--whom he at all times honoured with the appellation of "my lady,"--but now the seaman was requested to sit down and explain the nature of the monkeys, the book was resumed, and Frank inquired "whether Ben had ever seen an ape wild in the woods." "Why, yes, Master Frank," responded the seaman, as he seated himself near the table, but at a respectful distance from his mistress. "I have seen 'em hanging on by the eye-lids amongst the trees." "Hanging on by the eye-lids, Ben!" repeated Frank, in surprise; "why how could they do that?" "Why to be sure, Master Frank, they warn't exactly holding fast by the eye-lids," returned the seaman, smiling; "but we uses the term as a figure o' speech, meaning as it's next to dancing upon nothing." This did not much mend the lad's knowledge of the matter, but as he was eager to hear something of the monkey tribe, he inquired "And how much bigger, Ben, is a Chimpanzee than an ape?" "A what, Master Frank--a Jem Pansy?" demanded the seaman, looking at the picture of Quarll with his attendants. "Do they call them Jem Pansies? well, to my thinking, it arn't natral to give a christen-like name to such oncivilized brutes as haven't got no rational faculties." Frank explained, and the two were soon in deep and earnest conversation upon the relative qualities and characteristics of monkeys, whilst Mrs. Heartwell continued her work, occasionally listening to their discourse, but her thoughts principally engrossed by contemplating the coming separation from her husband. The ancient clock, which stood on a bracket at the first landing of the stairs, struck nine, and the lady, who had for some time been growing more and more uneasy at the lieutenant's stay, directed Ben to have the supper things in readiness, and when he had left the room, Frank was desired to prepare himself for bed. Kneeling at his mother's feet, with hands closed together, he repeated his evening prayer, imploring the Divine Being to bless his parents--the servant lighted him to his room--and weary nature soon found refreshment in the sweet repose of undisturbed slumber. Another hour passed away, and the anxious wife grew more restless and uneasy; she laid her watch upon the table, and though the hour was late, yet she felt impatient at the tardy movement of the hands, hoping that each succeeding minute would bring her husband home. But still he came not, and time continued to progress, unheeding both the joy and the sorrow that accompanied his eventful career. In vain did she strive to subdue the fluctuating emotions that, like the undulating swell of the ocean giving warning of an approaching tempest, seemed to indicate that a severe trial was at hand. Every foot-fall in the street had excited hope, which died away with the receding sound; and the almost hysterical and sudden gush of delight was succeeded by a revulsion of sickening uncertainty and fearful surmisings. Why or wherefore, she could not tell. But midnight was drawing near, the weather which had been fine became tempestuous, the winds howled and the rain beat against the windows, and the streets were deserted, except by the ancient watchman, whose slow and heavy tread could not be mistaken for the eager springiness of vigorous strength prompted by ardent affection hurrying to the home of the heart. Mrs. Heartwell tried to compose her mind by reading, but the effort was futile; the constant changes in the course of her thoughts disconnected the sentences, and the visions which torturing apprehensions conjured up were infinitely more vivid than the incidents recorded on the printed page. At length, weary nature claimed her due, and she fell into uneasy slumber; but though the mortal frame had yielded to fatigue, and strove to gain refreshing energy by repose, the intellect was still awake and powerful to witness the conflicting occurrences that filled up the scenic representations in the dramatic shiftings of her dream. And oh, how fearfully confused were the visions of Mrs. Heartwell's restless sleep! She saw her husband struggling with the waves as the lightning flashed and the wild tempest howled above his head, and she rushed into the vortex of the dark and bubbling waters to try and snatch him from destruction. But vain were her endeavours to approach him--they were hurled hither and thither upon the crests of the foaming billows, but could not grasp each other's hands; and then the scene suddenly changed, and she beheld the lieutenant wounded and bleeding on the deck as the stream of life was ebbing fast away. They were surrounded by the thunder and the smoke of battle; dark and vindictive, and gore-stained countenances were peering upon her through the curling vapours, and there was one amongst them more dark, more vindictive, more sanguinary than the rest, but the thickened and dense atmosphere was constantly throwing it into obscurity, so as to leave no especial tracings on the memory. She tried to get to her husband, but still that mysterious being constantly debarred her progress; her limbs became paralysed; she could see the lieutenant most distinctly, though the rest were enveloped in gloom; and as he looked at her with his sight fast fading away, the dim eyes were still expressive of the inseparable mingling of anxious solicitude and fervent tenderness. Once more the picture changed; she was in her own dwelling, in that very parlour, clasped in his embrace as the fervid kiss of affection was impressed upon her lips. She would have chided his delay, but the delight that glowed within her bosom and the sound of his voice in cheerful greeting dispelled the anguish she had endured, and stifled the language of reproach before it could find utterance--She was again happy in his society. The lieutenant took his usual seat by the fireside opposite to his wife, and she was gazing upon him with feelings of gratification rendered more rich and delightful from the previous suffering she had experienced, when suddenly his features assumed a rigid and swollen aspect, a livid hue was on his cheeks, his limbs were stark and motionless, as he sat stiffly erect, whilst his eyes almost starting from his head were fixed intently upon her. "You are ill, Frank," was her imagined exclamation, as she essayed to rise from her chair but could not. "Oh do not look upon me thus--speak, speak to me," but the figure remained immovable--not a muscle of the face was stirred, and again that dark mysterious countenance, with its undefined outlines and misty filling up, appeared between them. "Oh, what is this, Frank?" uttered she, in a voice shrill and piercing through the extremity of agony; and bursting the bonds of sleep, she sprang from her chair at the very instant that Ben opened the door of the room, and looked round it in surprise. "Where is he, Ben, where is he?" demanded the agitated woman, as she stared wildly on the vacant seat. "Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman as he stood within the half-opened door, "I thought as Muster Heartwell were here, seeing as he hailed me jist now in the kitchen, and I've come to see what his pleasure is?" A thrill of horror instantaneously seized upon every portion of Mrs. Heartwell's frame--a sensation that for the moment struck at the very seat of vitality, and was carried through the entire system. "It cannot be," at length she uttered; "no one has opened the doors--the servants are all in bed:" she gasped for breath as she falteringly continued, "Father of Heaven, in mercy relieve me from this dreadful state. Yes, yes, it must have been--it is nothing more than a dream," and seating herself upon the sofa, she buried her face upon the pillow, and burst into unrestrained and irrepressible tears. Ben had implicitly obeyed the instructions of his mistress in seeing the supper materials prepared, and at the accustomed hour the maid-servants went to bed, leaving the gallant seaman alone in the kitchen to the enjoyment of his pipe and a well-filled stiff glass of cold grog. Unaccustomed to scrutinise the conduct of his superiors, Ben gave himself but little trouble or consideration for the unusually long-continued absence of his master; and if a thought did obtrude it was merely to conjecture that the lieutenant might have fallen in with some old messmates or friends, who, in the height of enjoyment over their social or festive intercourse, had induced him to stay out beyond his ordinary time for returning. It is true Ben reasoned upon deductions based upon what he himself would have done under similar circumstances; for though the worthy tar had practised a little of the amiable towards Sally the housemaid, yet he was unacquainted with, and consequently could not well account for, the secret and hidden springs that prompted the undeviating attention of Mr. Heartwell in studying the comfort and happiness of his wife as intimately connected with his own. Ben sat smoking and cogitating upon the station he should probably occupy when again upon the element he loved to control, and his spirit rose as he contrasted the busy routine of duty on board a smart ship at sea, with the idle and quiet of a calm life on shore even with Sally to sweeten it. He fancied himself once more at the weather wheel, as with a predominant feeling of pride he kept the given point of the compass without vibrating from the direct course he was ordered to steer; and then in his watch below with his brother tars keeping up Saturday night with grog, and jest, and jocund song; and as he made repeated applications to the jorum of strong beverage by his side, his fancy peopled the vacant space around him with messmates and shipmates till both pipe and glass were emptied, and he unconsciously resigned himself to the close embraces of a sailor's Morpheus. He, too, had been dreaming, but it was of the mere ordinary concerns of the forecastle or main-top, without experiencing a single terrific sensation except when the supposed sonorous hail of the first lieutenant through his speaking-trumpet afforded a convincing testimonial that something more was expected in the exercise of their duties than the playfulness of childhood. But Ben heard it fearlessly, for he not only knew what he had to do, but he was also well versed in the most approved method of doing it, and ever active and obedient, he performed his task with alacrity and skill. Whilst thus involved in all the intricate mazes of visionary speculation, he thought he heard the well remembered sound of his master's voice calling upon him; and springing to his feet, he rubbed his eyes as he gave the usual responsive "Ay, ay, Sir," and found the lieutenant standing before him. But the delusion almost instantly ceased--the figure receded and disappeared, and as the door of the kitchen was shut, Ben concluded in his mind that it was all moonshine as to the appearance, that he really had heard his master's call, and hurrying up stairs he entered the parlour at the moment when his mistress awoke in such thrilling agony. The flow of tears relieved her overcharged heart, and without questioning the seaman she sent him below again, and prostrating herself before her Maker, she offered up an earnest prayer for fortitude to undergo affliction, and tranquillity of mind to meet every dispensation that might occur--it was the poor dependant created, supplicating the high and Almighty creator; it was the weak and the defenceless imploring the aid of the Omnipotent. The appeal was heard and answered--the broken and the contrite spirit was not despised; and Mrs. Heartwell arose from her knees strengthened in the confidence that HE who spread abroad immeasurable space and displayed the firmament as his handy work--who fed the young ravens when they cried, and clothed the lilies of the field in all their beauty, would not desert her in the hour of tribulation. [Illustration] MONUMENT TO NAPOLEON! On the removal of Napoleon's remains, I prepared the above design for a monument; but it was not sent, because it was not wanted. There is this disadvantage about a design for _his_ monument;--it will suit nobody else. This could not, therefore, be converted into a tribute to the memory of the late distinguished philosopher, Muggeridge, head master of the grammar-school at Birchley; nor into an embellishment for the mausoleum of the departed hero Fitz-Hogg, of the Pipeclays. It very often happens, however, that when a monument to a great man turns out to be a misfit, it will, after a while, be found to suit some other great man as well as if his measure had been taken for it. Just add a few grains to the intellectual qualities, subtract a scruple or so from the moral attributes--let out the philanthropy a little and take in the learning a bit--clip the public devotion, and throw an additional handful of virtues into the domestic scale--qualify the squint, in short, or turn the aquiline into a snub--these slight modifications observed, and any hero or philosopher may be fitted to a hair with a second-hand monumental design. The standing tribute "We _ne'er_ shall look upon his like again," is of course applicable in _every_ case of greatness. * * * * * "Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones! And can he _thus_ survive!" * * * * * So Byron sang, in accents of astonishment, long before the object of it was even once buried. Is the note of wonder less called for, and less natural now--now that the world has lived to witness, not only the first, but the second funeral of its Imperial Agitator? Is _this_ Napoleon le Grand! and looked Alexander after _this_ fashion--barring the decorations of his bony extremities! Agitator still! Aye, Agitator even in thine ashes thou must be called--whatsoever name else thou mayst be destined to survive! Whether Boney, Bonyparty, Buonaparte, Napoleon, Emperor! Whether in the future, as in the past, thou shalt be addressed by any one of that astounding collection of titles which the most metaphysical and admiring of thy biographers once gathered from the public journals and set forth in startling array--as Monster, Tyrant, Fiend, Upstart, Usurper, Rebel, Regicide, Traitor, Wretch, Villain, Knave, Fool, Madman, Coward, Impostor--or these again with suitable adjectives to reinforce them, as Unnatural Monster, Sanguinary Tyrant, Diabolical Fiend, Corsican Upstart, Military Usurper, Wicked Rebel, Impious Regicide, Perfidious Traitor, Vile Wretch, Base Villain, Low-born Knave, Rank Fool, Egregious Madman, Notorious Coward, Detestable Impostor;--or this other set of epithets, which, in more countries than France, and not unsparingly in our own, have since been associated with thy name--as Conqueror, Potentate, Preserver, Genius, Liberator, Law-giver, Statesman, Ruler, Regenerator, Enthusiast, Martyr, Hero, Benefactor--these again being reinforced as before, thus--Invincible Conqueror, Mighty Potentate, Glorious Preserver, Guardian Genius, Generous Liberator, Enlightened Law-giver, Magnificent Statesman, Wise Ruler, National Regenerator, Sincere Enthusiast, Devoted Martyr, Triumphant Hero, Beneficent Benefactor:--by these names, by any one of them possibly, thou mayst not be especially distinguished in after times; but as Agitator at least thou must be hailed while language lasts! --It may justly be doubted whether the figure thus looking down upon a pyramid of skulls, is indeed "the man of thousand thrones"--whether he _does_ "thus survive." The design is one of those that "show men as they ought to be, not as they are." That opening of the coffin at St. Helena opens up a world of curiosity, of wonder, and alarm. All the spectators were awed and astounded at the absence of the great Dictator of the Grave--Change! All the beholders were stricken to marble, or melted into water-drops, to see Death looking like Life; to survey the pale and placid features of the Emperor, expressing the serenity of repose, not the workings of decay--to witness a sign of power beyond that which ordinary clay may boast, and to feel that a "divinity did hedge" indeed the hero-king, in preserving all that was mortal of the exiled chief from the ravages of the worm. There lay the Emperor Napoleon--(he was recognised then by the authorities, and should the parties meet in the Shades, even George the Fourth can no longer style him General Buonaparte)--there lay the Emperor--not simply in his habit as he lived, but in the very flesh which he took with him out of Longwood. There was the positive and unwasted substance--and there too was the seeming spirit. The eyes only were wanting to give it reality and consciousness. The Mighty Watcher had fallen asleep, but who could say that he never again was to wake up? The restless Visionary had sunk, torpid, into a dream of years. The Monarch had abdicated the throne of Life without finally crossing its confines. At best, the spectacle presented an extraordinary compromise with the insatiate Destroyer. The Archer had for once half-missed his aim. Now, it will be remembered that Fauntleroy was considered to bear a decided resemblance to Napoleon--a very respectable "likeness-done-in-this-style" sort of portrait--and Fauntleroy, as we all hear, is said to be alive still! Somebody has remarked--in fact we remarked it ourselves--that _on dit_ is French for "a lie;" and so it may be in this particular: still the coincidence is curious. Even the likeness of Napoleon is associated with things living; but Napoleon himself has been seen, recognised, identified--looking like life itself--sleeping, sightless, but not dead. We have all been reminded lately of the manner in which his return from Elba was announced in the _Moniteur_. It will bear repetition here:--"1st announcement--The demon has escaped from banishment: he has run away from Elba. 2d--The Corsican dragon has landed at Cape Juan. 3d.--The tiger has shown himself at Gap--the troops are advancing from all sides, in order to arrest his progress--he cannot possibly escape. 4th--The monster has really advanced as far as Grenoble--we know not to what treachery to ascribe it. 5th--The tyrant is actually at Lyons. Fear and terror seized all at his appearance. 6th--The usurper has ventured to approach the capital to within sixty hours' march. 7th--Buonaparte is advancing by forced marches--but it is impossible he should reach Paris. 8th--Napoleon will reach under the walls of Paris to-morrow. 9th--The Emperor is at Fontainbleau. 10th--Yesterday evening his Majesty the Emperor made his public entry, and arrived at the palace of the Tuileries--nothing can exceed the universal joy!" What would be his reception now, were he--as he escaped so strangely from Elba, and worked his way still more strangely from under the willow of St. Helena--were he to _wake_ where he is! The people cried VIVE _l'Empereur_ as the coffin that held him was borne by. And truly the Emperor yet _lives_ in France! [As for me, who have skeletonised him prematurely, paring down the Prodigy even to his hat and boots, I have but "carried out" a principle adopted almost in my boyhood, for I can scarcely remember the time when I did not take some patriotic pleasure in persecuting the great Enemy of England. Had he been less than that, I should have felt compunction for my cruelties; having tracked him through snow and through fire, by flood and by field, insulting, degrading, and deriding him everywhere, and putting him to several humiliating deaths. All that time, however, he went on "overing" the Pyramids and the Alps, as boys "over" posts, and playing at leap-frog with the sovereigns of Europe, so as to kick a crown off at every spring he made--together with many crowns and sovereigns into my coffers. Deep, most deep, in a personal view of matters, are my obligations to the Agitator--but what a Debt the country _owes to him!_] [Illustration] PHOTOGRAPHIC PHENOMENA, OR THE NEW SCHOOL OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. "Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur!"--HENRY IV. "My lords, be seated."--_Speech from the Throne._ I.--INVITATION TO SIT. Now sit, if ye have courage, cousins all! Sit, all ye grandmamas, wives, aunts, and mothers; Daughters and sisters, widows, brides, and nieces; In bonnets, braids, caps, tippets, or pelisses, The muff, mantilla, boa, scarf, or shawl! Sit all ye uncles, godpapas, and brothers, Fathers and nephews, sons, and next of kin, Husbands, half-brother's cousin's sires, and others; Be you as Science young, or old as Sin: Turn, Persian-like, your faces to the sun! And have each one His portrait done, Finish'd, one may say, before it's begun. Nor you alone, Oh! slight acquaintances! or blood relations! But sit, oh! public Benefactors, Whose portraits are hung up by Corporations. Ye Rulers of the likeness-loving nations, Ascend you now the Photographic throne, And snatch from Time the precious mornings claim'd By artists famed (In the Court Circular you'll find them named). Sit too, ye laurell'd Heroes, whom detractors Would rank below the statesman and the bard! Sit also, all ye Actors, Whose fame would else die with you, which is hard: Whose _Falstaffs_ here will never _Slenders_ prove. So true the art is! M.P.'s, for one brief moment cease to move; And you who stand as Leaders of great Parties, Be sitting Members! Ye intellectual Marchers, sit resign'd! And oh! ye Authors, men of dazzling mind, Perchance with faces foggy as November's, Pray sit! Apollo turned R.A. The other day, Making a most decided hit. They say. Ph[oe]bus himself--he has become a Shee! (Morning will rank among the Knights full soon) And while the Moon, Who only draws the tides, is clean outdone, The Stars are all astonishment to see Earth--sitting for her portrait--to the Sun! II.--THE PROCESS OF THE PORTRAITURE. It's all very fine, is it not, oh! ye Nine? To tell us this planet is going too fast, On a comet-like track through the wilderness vast: Instead of collision, and chances of splitting In contact with stars rushing down the wrong line, The world at this moment can't get on--for sitting: And Earth, like the Lady enchanted in _Comus_, Fix'd fast to her chair With a dignified air, Is expecting to sit for a century there; Much wondering, possibly, half in despair, How the deuce she's to find her way back to her domus. "Keep moving," we know, was the cry long ago; But now, never hare was "found sitting," I swear, Like the crowds who repair To old Cavendish Square, And mount up a mile and a quarter of stair. In procession that beggars the Lord Mayor's show! And all are on tiptoe, the high and the low, To sit in that glass-cover'd blue studio; In front of those boxes, wherein when you look Your image reversed will minutely appear, So delicate, forcible, brilliant, and clear, So small, full, and round, with a life so profound, As none ever wore In a mirror before; Or the depths of a glassy and branch-shelter'd brook, That glides amidst moss o'er a smooth-pebbled ground. Apollo, whom Drummond of Hawthornden styled "Apelles of flowers," Now mixes his showers Of sunshine, with colours by clouds undefiled; Apelles indeed to man, woman, and child. His agent on earth, when your attitude's right, Your collar adjusted, your locks in their place, Just seizes one moment of favouring light, And utters three sentences--"Now it's begun,"-- "It's going on now, sir,"--and "Now it is done;" And lo! as I live, there's the cut of your face On a silvery plate, Unerring as fate, Worked off in celestial and strange mezzotint, A little resembling an elderly print. "Well, I _never_!" all cry; "it is cruelly like you!" But Truth is unpleasant To prince and to peasant. You recollect Lawrence, and think of the graces That Chalon and Company give to their faces; The face you have worn fifty years doesn't strike you! III.--THE CRITICISMS OF THE SITTERS--THE MORAL. "Can this be _me_! do look, mama!" Poor Jane begins to whimper; "I _have_ a smile, 'tis true;--but, pa! This gives me quite a simper." Says Tibb, whose plays are worse than bad, "It makes my forehead flat;" And being classical, he'll add, "I'm blow'd if I'm like _that_." Courtly, all candour, owns his portrait true; "Oh, yes, it's like; yes, very; it will do. Extremely like me--every feature--_but_ That plain pug-nose; now mine's the Grecian cut!" Her Grace surveys her face with drooping lid; Prefers the portrait which Sir Thomas did; Owns that o'er this _some_ traits of truth are sprinkled; But views the brow with anger--"Why, it's wrinkled!" "Like _me_!" cries Sir Turtle; "I'll lay two to one It would only be guess'd by my foes; No, no, it is plain there are spots in the sun, Which accounts for these spots on my nose." "A likeness!" cries Crosslook, the lawyer, and sneers; "Yes, the wig, throat and forehead I spy, And the mouth, chin, and cheeks, and the nose and the ears, But it gives me a cast in the eye!" * * * * * Thus needs it the courage of old Cousin Hotspur, To sit to an artist who flatters no sitter; Yet Self-love will urge us to seek him, for what spur So potent as that, though it make the truth bitter! And thus are all flocking, to see Ph[oe]bus mocking, Or making queer faces, a visage per minute; And truly 'tis shocking, if winds should be rocking The building, or clouds darken all that's within it, To witness the frights Which shadows and lights Manufacture, as like as an owl to a linnet. For there, while you sit up, Your countenance lit up, The mists fly across, a magnificent rack; And your portrait's a patch, with its bright and its black, Out-Rembrandting Rembrandt, in ludicrous woe, Like a chimney-sweep caught in a shower of snow. Yet nothing can keep the crowd below, And still they mount up, stair by stair; And every morn, by the hurry and hum, Each seeking a prize in the lottery there, You fancy the "last day of drawing" has come. L. B. [Illustration: [All the World and his Wife must recollect that they are not figuring before a mere mortal artist with whom they may all the while laugh and chat. Here you must sit mute and motionless. You _may_ wink; you may perhaps just put on a smile; but you _must not_ laugh; for if you do, one half of your head will go off!]] [Illustration: COMMENTARY upon the late--"New Police Act" by which it appears that ... ... Designed Etched & Published by George Cruikshank-- June 1st 1841] PUNCH _v._ LAW. I was dozing over the last half-dozen glasses of a bowl of punch (the rest of the club having departed) when the waiter at the British came into the coffee-room to remind me that it was Saturday night, and that in obedience to the New Police Act it was absolutely necessary that I should take my departure before Sunday morning--the door must be finally closed at twelve o'clock, and it then wanted but five minutes. This appeal, and a "Now, Sir, if you please," a few times repeated, were not more than half heard; sleep seized me irresistibly, and in twenty seconds more I was dreaming that I had fallen fast asleep, with the punch-bowl for a nightcap. "Come, move on--make way here, will you though?--move on, you sir! No Punch and Judy now; it's unlegal by the law; ain't you awor o' the New Police Act what's put it down?" Such was the arbitrary order which in my dream Serjeant Higginbotham of the X division issued, as he pushed his way into the centre of a crowd of urchins assembled round that little stage on which Punch was playing off his antics in unapproachable style. As the words fell from his lips, they smote my heart with the fear that a revolution in the country must inevitably follow. Punch to be put down by Act of Parliament! Judy to be snatched away for ever by a vote of both Houses! Mirth, fun, jollity, to be legislated into nothing--in the passing of a clause, or the twinkling of the Speaker's eye! Impossible; put Punch down in one place, lo! he is up again in another; stifle his voice in the east, and hark! you hear him the next minute squeaking in the west, like the piping shepherd-boy, "as though he should never grow old." This was consolatory to my feelings; but yet methought, the mere intent, the bare threat of the legislature to banish the people's own Punch, their time-honoured favourite, would paralyse all London at first, and then all London would be seen on its legs rushing to the Queen's palace to petition! To my astonishment, not a soul in that crowd took the smallest notice of Serjeant Higginbotham's imperative command to be off. Punch went on squeaking and rapping away; the troop of boys, girls, and miscellanies around, continued to grin, laugh, scream, and stretch their necks to stare over one another's heads as though they never could look enough; and what was more, the policeman, who had penetrated into the midst of them, and of whose presence they appeared so singularly heedless, stood there, grinning, laughing, screaming, and stretching his neck to stare too. There indeed stood Serjeant H., his truncheon dropping from one hand, while the other was tightly pressed against his side, where he seemed to be in imminent peril of a split. That truncheon he had scarce uplifted, when the laugh seized him, and his arm fell powerless. Serjeant Higginbotham, six feet high, was a little boy again. How he laughed and roared. I heard his "Ho! ho!" for days afterwards, and can even now see the tears run down his cheeks, fringing his whiskers like dewdrops on a bush. Close by was a youngster flying his kite contrary to law; on the approach of a policeman, he let go, turned to run, caught a glimpse of Punch--and there he stood fascinated by the fun. His pursuer, who was close behind him, was just about to catch him by the collar, when he too stopped short, and with distended jaws almost doubled the horse-laugh of the side-aching serjeant. Up came a sweep with the illegal cry of 'we-weep' on his lips, but he could not break the law by giving utterance to the cry--for laughter. Presently came by a genius playing an organ, and another blowing a trumpet--the policemen heard not the unlawful music, and it suddenly ceased, stopped by the irresistible and all-absorbing Punch. A boy came next trundling his hoop, with 46 D trundling after him; in two minutes they were standing side by side, laughing from ear to ear. A dustman had just raised his voice and got out, "du--" when his bell seemed to stop of itself, and "My eye!" was all he could articulate. A lad behind a hackney-coach jumped down, scorning a three-miles ride, under the influence of the prevailing risibility. All were drawn insensibly into the vortex of laughter. Every violator of the new law, albeit aware of having fallen under the vigilant observation of the police, lost on the instant all sense of responsibility, all inclination to shun the danger of apprehension, and joining the crowd, became utterly unconscious of any law but the law of nature, and supremely blessed in ignorance of the very existence of a constable. More astounding still was the suddenness with which the rush of policemen from all quarters, pursuing the offenders, came to a stand-still. Each in turn followed his intended victim into the charmed circle, gave up the chase in the moment of success, and surrendered himself captive to Punch instead of taking a prisoner. "And those who came to seize, remain'd to laugh." At length, half the trades, half the schools, all the idlers, and all the policemen of the metropolis, seemed gathered there together. And there they all stood spell-bound, wrought upon by one common emotion; shaking their sides against one another, and sending up a roar, compared with which the thunder of the Danish kettle-drums and cannon of old was a dead silence. Here, methought, is a lesson for legislators! They would put down that which puts down nuisances, and turns public disturbers into the happiest and most harmless of mortals! And they would suppress it by agents who came in contact with the enemy only to join his ranks, "for we have all of us one human heart." Put down Punch! Fifty Parliaments could never do it! There's a divinity doth hedge him. Punch for a time can suppress kite-flying, hoop-trundling, bell-ringing, and trumpet-blowing--which the law cannot; how then should Punch himself be put down? Immortal puppet! the true friend of the people, and the promoter of good-humour among all her Majesty's loving subjects! Such _would_ have been my reflections; but the accumulated roar of the laughing throng awoke me--when I found that the waiter was snoring very loud in the lobby of the coffee-room. The house had long been shut for the night; and having violated the law, I was obliged to content myself with a broiled bone and a bed at the British--with an extra tumbler of _punch_! [Illustration: COMMENTARY upon the "New Police Act" (N^o.2.) Designed Etched & Published by George Cruikshank June 1st 1841] "ORIGINAL POETRY:" BY THE LATE SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY, KNIGHT, MEMBER OF THE DRAMATIC AUTHORS' ASSOCIATION, FELLOW OF THE PARNASSIAN SOCIETY, &C. * * * * * _Now first printed from the original copies in the handwriting of that popular Author._ EDITED BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. We have considerable pleasure in discharging the duty imposed upon us, of transcribing the MSS. which one of Sir Fretful Plagiary's numerous living descendants has placed in our hands, and of submitting to the public the following specimens of "something new." Whatever may be thought in other respects of these, the latest emanations--or, as some with equal correctness perhaps would say, effusions--of an immortal genius, we unhesitatingly pronounce them to be original. _These poems bear no resemblance to anything ever before offered to the public._ Now this is a declaration which cannot fail to awaken in the reader's mind a strong suspicion that the ideas are mere imitations, and the language a mere echo, of the thoughts and expressions of other poets. In this solitary instance the acute reader will be mistaken in his supposition. There is no one line that can be called an _imitation_--no phrase that can be pronounced an _echo_. Line after line is equally emphatic, interesting, melodious, and--original. This fact we might establish by citing at full length a remarkably novel and curious production of Sir Fretful's, which, with the fineness of Shakspeare and Dryden united, opens thus:-- "Farewell! thou canst not teach me to forget; The power of beauty I remember yet." But we prefer proceeding at once to a strikingly harmonious, and singularly analytical composition, bearing the designation of an ODE TO THE HUMAN HEART. BLIND Thamyris, and blind Mæonides, Pursue the triumph and partake the gale! Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees, To point a moral or adorn a tale[2]. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears, Like angels' visits, few and far between, Deck the long vista of departed years. Man never is, but always to be bless'd; The tenth transmitter of a foolish face, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest, And makes a sunshine in the shady place. For man the hermit sigh'd, till woman smiled, To waft a feather or to drown a fly, (In wit a man, simplicity a child,) With silent finger pointing to the sky. But fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Far out amid the melancholy main; As when a vulture on Imaus bred, Dies of a rose in aromatic pain. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall. My way of life is fall'n into the sere; I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear, Who sees through all things with his half-shut eyes. Oh! for a lodge in some vast wilderness! Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, Fine by degrees and beautifully less, And die ere man can say 'Long live the Queen.' If in the above any reader should be reminded of the "long resounding march and energy divine" of poets past or present, it can only be because our illustrious and profusely-gifted bard has clustered together more remarkable, and we trust they will long prove memorable, lines, than any one of his predecessors has in the same space given an example of. That poem can be of no inferior order of merit, in which Milton would have been proud to have written one line, Pope would have been equally vain of the authorship of a second, Byron have rejoiced in a third, Campbell gloried in a fourth, Gray in a fifth, Cowper in a sixth, and so on to the end of the Ode; which thus realises the poetical wealth of that well-known line of Sir Fretful's, "Infinite riches in a little room." But we must not, by prosaic comment, detain the impatient reader from other specimens of the striking originality of this writer's powers. Among some fragments thrown loose in his desk, we find the following:-- When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not if I could be gay. Again: There's a beauty for ever unchangingly bright, For coming events cast their shadows before; Oh! think not my spirits are always as light, Like ocean-weeds cast on the surf-beaten shore. We have pronounced these two stanzas to be original; and they are: but with reference to the first of them we admit that a distinguished living critic, to whom it was shown, remarked that it did remind him a little of something in some other author--and he rather thought it was Goldsmith; a second critic, equally eminent, was forcibly reminded by it of something which he was convinced had been written by Rogers. _So much for criticism!_ To such treatment is original genius ever subjected. Its traducers cannot even agree as to the derivation of the stolen property; they cannot name the author robbed. One cries, Spenser; another, Butler; a third, Collins. We repeat, it is the fate of Originality. "Garth did not write his own Dispensary," says Pope jeeringly; Campbell has had his Exile of Erin vehemently claimed by a desperate wrestler for renown; and at this very time a schoolmaster in Scotland is ready to swear that the author of the "Burial of Sir John Moore" never wrote a line of it. But we now pass to another piece by Sir Fretful; and this, whether its sentiments be of a high or a low order, its imagery appropriate or incongruous, is entirely his own:-- Lives there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, "Shoot folly as it flies?" Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, Are in that word farewell, farewell! 'Tis folly to be wise. And what is friendship but a name, That boils on Etna's breast of flame? Thus runs the world away: Sweet is the ship that's under sail To where yon taper cheers the vale, With hospitable ray! Drink to me only with thine eyes Through cloudless climes and starry skies! My native land, good night! Adieu, adieu, my native shore; 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more-- Whatever is is right! We have thought it expedient to point out briefly the peculiar beauty of some of our author's lines; but it cannot be necessary to point out the one peculiar and exclusive quality of his writings--his perspicacity--his connectedness. His verse "flows due on to the Propontic, nor knows retiring ebb." You are never at a loss to know what he means. In his sublimest passages he is intelligible. This is his great beauty. No poet perhaps is so essentially _logical_. We close our specimens with another short poem; it is entitled, "ON LIFE, ET CETERA." Know then this truth, enough for man to know: Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, Who would be free themselves must strike the blow. Retreating lightly with a lovely fear From grave to gay, from lively to severe, To err is human, to forgive divine, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. All are but parts of one stupendous whole, The feast of reason and the flow of soul. * * * * * We ne'er shall look upon his like again, For panting time toils after him in vain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain; Allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay! Leaving this great poet's samples of the mighty line, or, as it is sometimes called, the lofty rhyme, to "speak for themselves," we conclude with a word or two on a subject to which _one_ of his effusions here printed has (thanks to what are called the critics) unexpectedly led--we mean the subject of Literary Loans, or, as they are more familiarly and perhaps felicitously designated, Literary Thefts. A critic of high repute has said, "A man had better steal anything on earth, than the thoughts of another;" agreed, unless when he steals the thought, he steal the words with it. The economising trader in Joe Miller who stole his brooms ready made, carried on a prosperous business. Some authors steal only the raw material; or rather, they run away with another man's muse, but for fear of detection, and to avoid the charge of felony, leave the drapery behind--a practice which cannot be too severely reprehended. It is the same principle on which, according to Sheridan (Sir Fretful's _friend!_) gipsies disguise stolen children to make them pass for their own. Now Sir Fretful, alluding to Shakspeare in a poem which has never yet been published, says very nobly-- "Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not He wants that greatest art, the art to blot!" If we might dare to parody (Scott said it was a sin to parody--"We are seven") any one line sanctified by the genius of a Plagiary, we should say that too many of his descendants want that greatest art, the art to steal. They steal--but not with integrity. There may be, nay there is, such a thing as honest theft--equitable robbery--prigging with justice and honour. We hold that in all cases of literary borrowing, or robbery (for it comes to the same thing), it is ten million times better to rob or borrow without the least disguise, equivocation, or mutilation whatsoever. Take the line as you find it. Don't crack it as you would a nut, picking out the idea, appropriating it to your own purpose, and leaving only the husk behind. You will never get an artificial shell to grow round it; it will never be the nut it was before. Take it whole. Prudery in these cases is often worse than folly--it is shabbiness. It is folly, when, after stealing a fine symmetrical thought, a whole morning is spent in disguising, distorting, and deforming it, until at last all that remains of it merge into the unprofitable moral--"of no use to anybody but the owner." It is shabbiness, when, as is the practice of prose-writers, a splendid passage is purloined, and a bargain is struck with conscience; when, just for decency's sake, six words of the sentence are publicly attributed by inverted commas to the right owner, while all the rest assumes the character of originality. We may give an example in the following passage from Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France, which we will suppose to be thus printed:-- But the "age of chivalry" is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and the "glory of Europe" is extinguished for ever. The unbought grace of life, the "cheap defence of nations[3]," the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, "is gone!" * * * * * This cunning practice of acknowledging a few words borrowed, with a view to divert suspicion from the many you have stolen, is like confessing a lawful debt of sixpence, due to the man which you have just plundered of fifty pounds; and this practice, Sir Fretful Plagiary, to his immortal honour, scorned to adopt. Could his original and abundant genius have stooped to steal, he would have stolen conscientiously; he would have taken the whole passage outright; instead of spoiling everything he laid his hands upon, and making (as Dryden says) "the fine woman end in a fish's tail." War is honourable, manslaying is not; pillage is legalised by custom, which cannot be said of picking pockets. Thus, as it is more honourable to pillage than to pilfer, so is it to seize upon a whole line, or even a couplet, than to extract the essence of it surreptitiously, or sneak off with a valuable epithet; and it is the more honest, because every author has a better chance, after the robbery has served its purpose, of getting back his own. Had this principle been in operation from the beginning, what confusion it would have prevented! what discords between authors! what perplexities in settling their claims to disputed metaphors, and their rights in contested ideas! From the mere want of this common honesty in purloining, it is impossible, in many instances, to come to an equitable adjustment. It is a wise poet that knows his own conceit--or to prevent mistakes, let us say, his own idea. He sees his private property transferred to the pages of another, and cannot swear to it. There is no saying which is yours and which is his. _Tuum_ rhymes to _suum_, and always will. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 2: The printer's devil had taken upon himself to make the following addition to these lines:-- Blind Thamyris, and blind Mæonides, (_Something like Milton_). Pursue the triumph and partake the gale! (_Rather like Pope_). Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees, (_Why, this_ is _Shakspeare_). To point a moral, or adorn a tale. (_Oh! it's Dr. Johnson_). To the succeeding lines the same authority had added in succession the names of Gray Wordsworth, Campbell, and so on throughout the poem. What does he mean? Does he mean to say he has ever met with any one of these lines _before?_] [Footnote 3: Burke.] FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER II. Time progressed, and though Mrs. Heartwell still laboured under unaccountable agitation and alarm, yet there was a counteracting influence that diffused itself through her frame and buoyed her up with hope. Honest Ben more than once or twice entered the room, and with diffidence inquired whether his mistress had any commands; he asked no intrusive questions--he made no observations--the matter was something beyond his comprehension, and it never for one moment entered into his thoughts to speculate upon causes and effects; yet desirous of affording all the comfort and consolation which suggested itself to his mind, he took especial pains in making some excellent coffee, which he carried up to the distressed lady. "You are kind and considerate, my good friend," said she whilst accepting the proffered refreshment. "I wish Mr. Heartwell was here to partake of it with me. Surely something unusual must have happened to detain him." "No doubt on it, my lady," returned the seaman; "an ould messmate or shipmate mayhap, or an extra glass of grog or two." The lady shook her head as she mournfully replied, "No, no, those would not be inducements strong enough to keep your master away from his home." "Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman earnestly, as he busied himself about the parlour; "as to the strength of the deucements, all I can say is, that they mixes 'em strong enough when they pleases--though half-and-half ought to satisfy any reasonable man. But there, what's the odds so as you're happy?" "You must prepare yourself, Ben, to go to Lincoln's Inn, and see if your master has been detained by business," said the lady, disregarding, or perhaps not observing the poor fellow's mistake. "You know the office of Mr. Brady." "Yes, my lady," returned the seaman; "and I'll make sail as soon as ever you pleases to give orders." "Wait then a little longer," added Mrs. Heartwell, as she looked at the watch: "go down now, and I will ring for you presently." Accustomed to implicit obedience when afloat, the seaman still adhered to it now that he was ashore; and therefore again descending to the kitchen, he awaited the expected summons. Drearily and heavily the minutes passed away, and yet as the fingers of the dial moved progressively over the divisions of the hour into quarters--marking the march of time--they seemed to have flown too quickly, for they afforded additional evidence that some calamity must have befallen the individual whose continued absence had caused increasing pain. Yet there the mourning watcher sat, suffering the extreme trial of human patience--waiting for those who came not. Several times had the silent contemplations of Mrs. Heartwell been disturbed by the loud ticking and sudden stopping of a clock or watch. At first she scarcely heeded the noise, but the frequent repetition drew her attention more strongly to it, and she sought for the cause: it could not be the dial, for the vibrations of that were clear and continuous--it could not be her own watch, the sound was so different; but to satisfy herself, she wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in the table-drawer. Again the ticking came; it seemed to fill every corner of the apartment, sometimes heard in one place and sometimes in another; and when Mrs. Heartwell fancied she had found the spot from which it emanated, it suddenly ceased, and then commenced elsewhere. She rang the bell for Ben, who promptly answered, and stood within the open door. "Did Mr. Heartwell take his timepiece with him?" inquired she. "Yes, my lady," responded Ben; "I saw the chain and seals hanging down as he went out at the door." "Is there any strange watch or clock in the house that you know of?" demanded she again. "No, my lady, not as I knows of," replied Ben, much surprised at the question, and somewhat fearful that grief had unsettled the reason of his mistress. "Hark then, Ben,--listen, and tell me what is that," exclaimed she energetically, as the ticking was loudly renewed. "There must be a clock somewhere to produce such sounds." Ben did listen as the eyes of his mistress were intently fixed upon him, but the tar shook his head and was silent. "It must be some trick," said Mrs. Heartwell; "can you hear it distinctly?" "It's easy enough to hear," responded the seaman with another slow shake of his head; "and though it's some years since I heard it afore, yet there's no mistaking _that_, my lady." "What is it then?" demanded the excited woman in a tone assuming peremptory command; "what is it that produces so loud and peculiar a noise?" "Bless you, my lady," returned the seaman solemnly, as he folded his arms across his breast. "Them sounds are out of all natur, for the works were never made by mortal fingers--there's no living hand as winds 'em up--no human spring as sets 'em a-going--that my lady is the death-watch:" and then Ben added his usual expletive, though his countenance was ruefully sad, "but what's the odds so as you're happy?" Mrs. Heartwell was perfectly aware that what had generally been called "the death-watch," was nothing more than a small insect, and the noise it produced was caused by striking its proboscis against hollow wood to release itself from confinement; but her nervous system was greatly relaxed and her mental energies impaired through the violent agitation she had undergone during the night. For several minutes, therefore, a superstitious dread came over her mind--it was the first time she had ever heard the supposed monitor of the shroud and coffin, and Ben's impressive manner as he announced its alleged character threw an additional weight of gloom over her already oppressed spirits. But reason was not long in resuming its sway, though it could not utterly banish feelings which had been excited by such a visitation, especially acted upon as she was by previous apprehensions of some direful but unknown calamity. The tapers on the table were nearly consumed, and the re-assured lady directed Ben to supply others in their places: she then walked towards the window, and unclosing one of the shutters, the bright gleams from a beautiful daylight mingling with the fading light of the newly-risen moon streamed full upon her. Hallowed and tranquillising are the effects of a lovely dawn; darkness has fled before a mighty conqueror--the face of nature is again unveiled, and smiling beauty colours every feature with its rosy tints; the sorrows of the heart are for a time absorbed in the universal peace which prevails, and even the dying who cannot expect to see its close, rejoice in the opening glory of another day. The weary watcher as she looked up to the heavens felt relieved and comforted; a prayer rose spontaneously from her heart to that Being who had sent light from above to cheer her in the dreariness of night; and now with humble adoration she poured forth her gratitude at being spared to witness the early beams that illumed the east, and called man forth to his daily labour. Ben was again summoned--the servants were called up from their beds--Mrs Heartwell went to the pillow of her sleeping boy, but his repose was so calm, his rest so undisturbed, that she would not awake him; but imprinting one gentle kiss on his fair forehead, she descended to the parlour to commence active operations in search of her husband. The seaman was despatched to Lincoln's Inn, as the first essay, and after an absence of about an hour, he returned to report that he had waited some time at the door of Mr. Brady's office, till the porter had told him the office would not be open till nine o'clock, and he thought it best to come and let his mistress know. "It is fast approaching that hour," said the lady. "Be quick and get your breakfast; I will go myself, and you and Frank shall accompany me." "I wants no breakfast, my lady," returned the seaman. "I'm rigged and ready at once, if so be as you wishes to get under weigh"-- "No,--do as I direct you "--responded the lady, firmly. "Frank is not yet ready--we have had our meal whilst you were away, and you must not be deprived of yours." The tar made his bow and descended to the kitchen, where the servants were assembled, and each endeavoured to catechise Ben on the events of the night; but he could tell them nothing, for he had nothing to tell, and even Sally failed in drawing forth any communication from the seaman. When Frank entered the parlour, he ran and kissed his mother, but looked astonished at beholding his father's vacant chair--he gazed earnestly in his mother's face, and though she strove to smile upon her boy, yet fatigue and anxiety had left too visible an impression on her countenance--With the intuitive quickness of childhood Frank became instantly aware that something was wrong, and throwing his arms round his parent's neck, he burst into an agony of grief, whilst she strained him to her heart, and the tears of the mother and the child ran mingling down together. As soon as emotion had subsided, Mrs. Heartwell briefly informed the lad that she feared something had happened to his father, and that she was about to make inquiries after him. The returning confidence and self-command of the mother produced not only a soothing influence, but also an animated spirit of investigation in the son; the mind of the child was fresh and vigorous from a night's repose--he had cherished no harassing fears, had endured no torturing suspense, and therefore, young as he was, his courage was aroused, and he longed to set out on the search which his mother had proposed. His desire was soon gratified, and a very short time beheld Mrs. Heartwell and Frank, followed by Ben, proceeding from their residence in Ormond Street towards Lincoln's Inn. The streets were not much crowded, for the worthy citizens were at that time accustomed to reside under the same roofs with their shops and warehouses, and consequently were always on the spot ready for business. Not that they are negligent in the present day, for no class of men are more punctual than our merchants and tradesmen; but the extension of commerce has compelled vast numbers to convert their dwellings into storehouses; and the City is, to a certain degree, deserted in the evening for the rural suburbs with their handsome mansions--delightful villas and cottage retreats. Man has a natural love for the country--the green fields--the pure air--and the fragrance of flowers--these are the works of the Creator, and our grateful admiration should be mingled with the worship which is his due. The clock had not struck nine when they passed through the spacious area of Lincoln's Inn Fields, the trees in which had already become leafless, and gave an air of desolation to the dingy scenery. What a crowd of reflections do our Inns of Court give rise to--and yet how few who pass through them ever bestow one thought on the thousands who are toiling daily, and many nightly, within those walls to render perfect and secure for others the property which without the aid of the law would be unsafe! A writer in an American work has remarked, "what a happy country that would be where there were no lawyers;" but he must first people it with immaculate beings, to whom the ten commandments would become as a dead letter, and every one of the inhabitants must enjoy equality. To suppose such a thing is an absurdity--human passions and human prejudices will prevail, and it is to govern the one and guide the other--to protect the right--avenge the injured, and to punish crime--that laws were framed; and men indefatigably devoted themselves to study all their bearings that they might be carried into full effect. An honourable, useful, and manly profession is that of the lawyer; and though there are some unworthy members amongst the fraternity--(and what community is without them?)--yet, taken as a body, they bear a character of which England is justly proud. Exactly at nine they reached the chambers of Mr. Brady, and at the same moment a tall, stout, boney man took a key from his pocket and opened the door. "Mr. Brady is not yet come, madam," said he, observing that Mrs. Heartwell was about to address him. "His business-time is half-past nine, and you will find him punctual to the moment. Would you like to wait, or will you call again?" "You are, I presume, in Mr. Brady's service?" said the lady, as she passed within the door. "His assistant, madam--his clerk--his confidential clerk," responded the man, stiffly bowing and assuming a pompous manner. But Mrs. Heartwell heeded not his conduct, her mind was too much engrossed by other matters, and she earnestly remarked, "You are then acquainted with all Mr. Brady's employers--" "His clients, madam, I suppose you mean," interrupted the person addressed, as he bent a keen look on the interesting countenance of the lady. "Oh yes--I necessarily know his clients well--" "Then," returned she, "you perhaps can inform me whether Mr. Heartwell"--her voice became tremulous with emotion, but by a sharp struggle she mastered her feelings and repeated "whether Mr. Heartwell was here yesterday?" "Lieutenant Heartwell of the Royal Navy, madam, I presume," said the clerk, obsequiously bowing. "Have I the honour to address his worthy lady?" "He is my husband, sir," answered the lady, proudly, for there was something in the manners of the man that excited unpleasant sensations--a smirking attempt to please that but ill accorded with his look and appearance. "Was Mr. Heartwell here yesterday?" "Most assuredly he was, madam," responded the clerk. "I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred." "Confound the lubber, he seems to know it," mumbled Ben, whose keen gaze had been fixed upon the man. "I wish my lady ud let me ax him a bit of his catechiz." "At what hour did Mr. Heartwell quit this office?" inquired the agitated woman. "At what hour, madam?" repeated the clerk, casting his eyes up to a clock that hung, or rather stood, in the corner; "why really I cannot call to recollection the precise hour--I was so busily engaged upon the will of Mr. Checkwell, the rich banker, who was not expected to live many hours--indeed he died this morning, and if that last testament had not been made out as quick as it was, so as to enable him to sign it, all his property would have gone amongst his poor relations--but now he has bequeathed it to a favorite niece"--and the man smiled--"he will be a fortunate fellow who wins her favour--two hundred thousand pounds and--" "Oh, what's the odds so as you're happy?" exclaimed Ben, peevishly interrupting him. "Jist tell my lady when the leftenant hauled his wind out of this." "Hauled his wind out of this?" reiterated the clerk, giving the worthy tar a sidelong glance of contempt. "Speak English, my friend." Ben was about to reply in no very gentle terms, but his mistress raised her hand, and the tar was silent. She then turned to the clerk. "I have put a plain and simple question to you, sir; will you oblige me with an answer?" "Why really, madam, I beg pardon--but the question has escaped my memory," responded the man, as if desirous of gaining time. "I asked you at what hour Mr. Heartwell quitted this place," repeated the lady, her heart swelling almost to bursting. "Oh--ay--I trust you will excuse me. I remember now," answered the clerk, as he retired to his desk; "but the will, madam, the will of Mr. Checkwell occupied my whole attention. Yet let me see: it must have been eight o'clock. No, it was later than that; but Mr. Brady can inform you most correctly, I have no doubt: he will be here in a few minutes. Will you walk in, and the young gentleman with you?" and, rising, he opened the door to an inner room. "There are chairs: as for my friend here, he will perhaps remain in the outer office." Mrs. Heartwell entered a spacious apartment, the windows admitting an unobstructed light, which was thrown upon a large oblong table, bearing innumerable packages of letters and documents tied up with red tape or green ribbon, according to the rank of the client. The walls of the room were nearly concealed behind law-books and japanned boxes with painted initials on their fronts--though some bore in full the names of highly respectable firms and companies, and one or two displayed the titles of noblemen. On the floor were pieces of carpet resembling ancient tapestry, and there were three chairs of dark oak, the seats cased with leather, the original colour of which it was impossible to detect. The lady, with her son by her side, retired into a part of the apartment that was somewhat obscured by shade; and here, as she sate awaiting the coming of the individual on whose knowledge seemed to rest her future happiness or misery, her thoughts reverted to the previous evening when her husband was in that very same apartment; and as there were two chairs placed at a part of the table that was cleared from papers, she conjectured that one had been occupied by the lieutenant; and small as the matter might seem in the estimation of others, she would have given much to have known which of the two it was. Then arose other contemplations: one of the chairs was doubtless for the clients--the other, at a more respectful distance, for the suppliants who came to entreat for delay against the execution of the law, or to appeal for the extension of mercy from his creditor. Oh! how many sorrowing spirits grieving over blighted hopes and desolated prospects--how many breaking hearts, crushed beneath the torturing pressure of affliction that verged upon despair--how many upbraiding consciences, filled with remorse at past deeds of shame or extravagance--had been there! Parents, who had reduced their offspring from affluence to poverty, through crime or indiscretion--husbands that had wasted their substance, and brought their wives to want--ruined merchants and tradesmen who had borne a good name in the world, but, surrounded by difficulties which they could not master, were compelled to have their names announced in the Gazette. What a wide field for reflection was there! At length Mr. Brady arrived; and, after a short consultation with his clerk, the door of his room opened, and Mrs. Heartwell beheld a gentlemanly-looking man of about thirty years of age, whose firm-set frame gave evidence of strong muscular powers. His limbs were large, but yet in just proportion to the rest of his body; and a handsomely formed pair of legs were well displayed in tight black silk stockings. His features were of a repulsive cast: a round, bullet-head, with high cheek-bones and protruding bushy eyebrows that frowned above a pair of large but piercing black eyes, which, like the rattlesnake's, had something of fascination in them. There is a world of language in the human eye that carries with it its own translation; and when Mrs. Heartwell saw the bright orbs of the lawyer as he looked round the room, a strange thrill came over her bosom--an indefinable sensation that sickened her very heart: she had never, to her recollection, seen Mr. Brady before that moment; yet the piercing keenness of his eyes was vividly pictured on her memory--they were familiar to the mind as having at some former period occasioned much distress, but where or when, or with what connexion, baffled remembrance was utterly at fault. The lady tremblingly arose as the lawyer approached; but her agitation was considerably diminished when a voice, soft and gentle, and sweetly harmonious, requested her "to be seated," and she again resumed the chair; whilst Frank, overawed by the presence of Mr. Brady, took up a position nearly behind his mother so as scarcely to be seen, though he commanded a perfect view of all that was going on. The lawyer retired to the corner of the table, against which he reclined with his left hand resting on the corner; he raised his right to his chin, and fixing his eyes on the distressed lady, seemed to devote himself to mute attention. Mrs. Heartwell told her name and related the cause of her visit, which drew forth no remark nor a single token that she was heard, till the narrative was ended, and even then he continued for a minute or two in deep and unmoved silence. At length he uttered in accents of soothing kindness-- "I trust, my dear lady, that you will not distress yourself unnecessarily. Affairs may not be so bad as you anticipate; and yet--" he paused for a moment, and then inquired, "Had Mr. Heartwell no friends in your neighbourhood on whom he could call in his way home?" "We have but few acquaintances, sir, and but fewer friends," returned the lady mournfully; "besides, I am certain that my husband would not have willingly remained away from home all night." "Was Mr. Heartwell at all addicted--you will excuse my putting so plain a question, nothing but the urgency of the occasion would compel me--but was Mr. Heartwell at all addicted to drinking,--I mean so as to become inebriated?" inquired the lawyer. "No, sir, never--never," said the lady firmly; "a better husband, a kinder father, a more sober man never existed--and these very qualities do but increase my fears for his safety." "I am gratified to hear it," responded the lawyer. "Mr. Heartwell transacted business with me yesterday to a very large extent; we had some wine together, and what with his good fortune and the generous liquor, I must own he was somewhat elevated when we parted." Mrs. Heartwell paused for a moment or two before she responded. The affection she had always cherished for her husband had produced unbounded confidence in all his actions: she knew that sailors were fond of the social glass, but she had never seen him indulge to excess, nor witnessed anything that could induce her to suppose that he had done so; and the thought that Mr. Brady implied, that he was drunk, went with thrilling anguish to her very soul, for it wounded her pride whilst it increased her fears. "Oh, do not say so, sir," said she; "do not say he was intoxicated; indeed he was ever too guarded to yield to intemperance." [Illustration: _Mrs. Heartwell and Frank's first interview with Mr. Brady._ London, Tilt & Bogue, Fleet Street] "You are labouring under error, my dear lady," said the lawyer mildly; "I did not say that he was intoxicated, but merely elevated--a single glass of wine when joy is overpowering the heart will oftentimes produce the semblance of inebriety. I know you are not aware of the whole fact, for he mentioned his intention to surprise you, and great was his gratification at the thoughts of it--the property of his uncle exceeded his expectations--the whole was converted into gold, and notes, and securities, to the amount of many thousand pounds; he received it in this office from an agent of the bank, and at nine o'clock last night, both himself and the bags were deposited in a hackney-coach--the number of which, I dare say, can be ascertained--though, probably, my clerk, who is very particular in all matters of business, may recollect it--and the coachman was ordered to drive to Ormond Street." The lawyer touched a bell, and the clerk entered. "Pray, Mr. Shipkins, do you remember the number of the coach in which Mr. Heartwell left here last night?" "Four hundred and seventy-five," replied the clerk; "coachman, red face, carbuncle nose--small eyes--drab box-coat, with seven capes; each cape bound with scarlet,--he held the light whilst we put in the bags." The superior nodded, and the clerk withdrew. "Thus far then, my dear lady, it will not be difficult to trace your husband's progress; but it is necessary that we should claim the assistance of a magistrate." Whilst these explanations were going on, Mrs. Heartwell felt almost crushed beneath the weight of perplexity that appeared to accumulate at every step. The mention of many thousand pounds as being in the possession of her husband had conjured up fearful visions; but when, in addition to this, she found that he was sent away in a coach alone, and that too in at least a state of elevation, her mind was wrought up to a pitch of indescribable anguish; she sprang from her chair, and wildly exclaimed, "It is but too plain, sir--it is but too plain! You send him in a coach with large sums of money. When he left me he mentioned his intention to surprise me--he would have returned--delightedly returned; but he has never been home--Oh my God, sustain me--he is dead--he is murdered!" and sinking back into her chair, she buried her face in her handkerchief, and sobbed hysterically, whilst little Frank clung to his mother, and fixing his tearful eyes upon Mr. Brady, who he supposed had caused her distress, he observed a twitching spasm convulse the lawyer's face, and a peculiar cast in one of his eyes, which had so fierce an expression as to terrify the lad, and which from that moment was never forgotten. The whole did but occupy a passing instant--the lawyer's face resumed its usual expression as he uttered, "No, no, no; do not think that, my dear lady--do not give way to so horrid a thought. But come, no time should be lost." He started from the table and put on his hat. "We will walk to the nearest coach-stand, and proceed to Bow Street." In accordance with this proposition they left the office; and Ben was despatched back to Ormond Street for the purpose of ascertaining whether anything had transpired during their absence, and with instructions to join his mistress with all expedition at Bow Street. The mother and son, with Mr. Brady, hastened to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where they found the very coach 475, in which the clerk had stated that the lieutenant had quitted the office the night before. The quick eye of Frank was the first to detect this; and he directly pointed it out to his mother, who at the first glance saw that the coachman perfectly answered the description given by Shipkins; and she would have instantly questioned him but for the request of Mr. Brady, who cautioned her to take no notice lest it might excite his suspicion. He called him off the stand to receive a fare. "To Bow Street Police Office," said the lawyer, as the coachman stood waiting for orders; and the door was closed, the box mounted, and off he drove. But who can describe the sensations of the agitated wife as she entered and took her seat in the very vehicle in which it was alleged that her husband had been conveyed from the office of the lawyer! her whole frame trembled and her heart grew sick. Mr. Brady was not idle--he examined every nook and corner of the interior of the carriage in which the lady assisted him, and every spot on the padded cushions raised a horrible terror in her breast as she fancied that it might be blood; but they discovered nothing that could in the slightest degree elucidate the matter. On reaching their destination, the coachman was directed to wait for the purpose of conveying them back again. The doors of the office were thronged with a miscellaneous assemblage of characters, principally of the lower classes; but there were also many well-dressed persons in the crowd, for the notorious pickpocket George Waldron, or, as he named himself, George Barrington, had that morning been brought up for examination, charged with stealing a purse of money and a gold watch from the person of a gentleman in Drury Lane Theatre, and numbers of curious individuals of all ranks were desirous of beholding a man who by education and manners was the finished gentleman, but in habit a confirmed thief. Through this crowd the lawyer and his party pushed their way into the outer office; and what a scene was presented there!--squalid poverty in rags--maudlin sensibility awaking from intoxication, and feverish from the night's debauch--the bucks of fashion, as the dandies of that day were called, still labouring under the influence of liquor, and detained to answer for a midnight spree--the detected pickpocket glorying in the mechanism of his profession, and only ashamed that he should have practised the art so clumsily as to be caught: these and numerous others occupied distinct portions to themselves--attended by the various peace-officers and watchmen, who hoped to profit, and largely too, by their earnest zeal in protecting his Majesty's liege subjects from let, hindrance, and molestation. The first object of Mr. Brady was to detain the coachman; and on applying to one of the superiors, an officer was promptly set to watch his movements, with orders to take him into custody should he attempt to drive away. But the jarvey did not manifest the slightest intention to depart, for he sat apparently contented on his seat eyeing the different groups, and perhaps moralising on the instability of human affairs--for men of sedentary habits are generally found to be moralists, however humble their pretensions. The urgency of Mrs. Heartwell's case procured an immediate admission to the office where the magistrates were sitting; but as they were at that moment busily engaged, the party was requested to stand aside till the hearing was disposed of. At the bar was a tall man of very genteel appearance, whose habit and demeanour might readily have introduced him to society as a highly respectable clergyman. He appeared to be about thirty years of age; his countenance was sedate and indicative of benevolence; but there was at the same time an arch look in his small sharp eyes that evidenced pleasantry and wit. His hair was frizzed out and powdered according to the fashion of the times, and a queue with a plentiful expenditure of black silk hung down behind. His left hand was raised to his face, and displayed amazingly long fingers ornamented with rings, and he bowed occasionally in the most graceful manner to Mr. Bond, the sitting magistrate, when he had to reply to questions that were put to him. At the entrance of Mrs. Heartwell, he had turned and cast a rapid but sharp glance at the lady; and for the moment his dark sallow complexion assumed a more sickly hue; but finding that she was a stranger, he politely inclined his head, and resumed his position. This was Barrington, the notorious pickpocket; and near him stood, in remarkable contrast, a smart well-made dapper little man, sprucely dressed, with silver buckles in his shoes, both of which were brightly polished; his head combed smooth and straight, so that not a hair was misplaced or out of order, but with a "natty curl" on each side--much in the same way as in after years the friseur was accustomed to ornament his brown wig;--his eyes were keen and hawk-like; and diminutive as he was, there was a something in his manner which strongly marked him as a man not to be trifled with. This was the afterwards celebrated Townsend. On the bench with the magistrates, were two or three noblemen and gentlemen in high life, who had been summoned to give evidence; and amongst them was the well-known Major Hanger and General St. John, who deposed to "the previous capture of the pickpocket at the Theatre, his being taken to the lobby and searched, and the purse and watch found upon him." "Pardon me, General," said the prisoner, respectfully bowing; "your memory has not served you correctly--neither purse nor watch was found upon my person, for this very simple but convincing reason--they had never been there." "I remember now," resumed the General; "they were not found upon your person, but upon the floor close to where you were taken into custody." "And I saw you drop them," exclaimed Major Hanger, hastily interrupting the witness. Barrington bowed his head in the most bland manner, and gracefully waving his hand, uttered with much seeming good-humour, "One at a time, gentlemen, if you please--it is neither fair nor honourable to try and crush a man whom misfortune loves to sport with." It is not necessary to go through the whole of the examination, which proved that from the Theatre, Barrington had been conveyed to the Brown Bear in Bow Street, where he contrived to escape from the charge of the constable, and since then had been levying contributions in different parts of the country, assuming a variety of characters as best suited his purpose. He was subsequently detected in a northern town, mingling in the first circles, and dexterously carrying on his depredations; from thence he was conveyed to the metropolis. The charge was considered sufficiently proven to commit; and this "king of thieves" was removed from the bar without evincing outwardly the slightest want of self-command. As soon as he was gone, and the buzz arising from the conversation of the noblemen and gentlemen had subsided by their taking their departure, the next case was about to be called, when Mr. Brady earnestly solicited the private hearing of the magistrates for a few minutes, on a charge of some magnitude, involving, as it was supposed, the life and property of an officer in his Majesty's navy. This was not spoken aloud, but only within the hearing of a few of the officers, and the request was promptly granted; Mr. Bond passed into a private room, where Mr. Brady having stated the case, Mrs. Heartwell was called in to give her deposition, which narrated every circumstance relative to the lieutenant's quitting his home the afternoon before, and promising "to be back early, and that he would then communicate something that would delight and astonish them." The lawyer and the magistrate looked earnestly at each other, for the former had mentioned that the circumstance of the officer having to receive considerable property had been concealed from the wife. "Were you not at all acquainted with the object to which your husband alluded?" inquired Mr. Bond. "Not to its full extent, sir," replied the lady; "I knew that he had business to transact with Mr. Brady, but was not informed of its purport, though I supposed it was in some measure connected with the decease of an uncle in the East Indies." "My client," remarked the lawyer, "mentioned that his wife was not cognisant of the transactions between us; and he expressed great delight at the idea of communicating to her the intelligence that he was now able to raise his family to affluence." "I must beg of you to compose yourself as much as possible, madam," said Mr. Bond with kindness; "the affair is certainly mysterious, but my best assistance shall be given." The magistrate then went on with the examination, and Ben having in the mean time arrived, made his statement, corroborating that of his mistress--the lawyer also gave his testimony, and ultimately, the coachman was brought forward. His deposition went in substance to state, that "his name was Gervase Simpson, and on the night before, he had been hired off the stand in the 'Fields' shortly before nine o'clock, to take up a fare in Lincoln's Inn--that he went, and a middle-aged man brought out a light, which he held, whilst four or five small, but apparently heavy bags were put into the vehicle; the light was then taken away, and a navy officer came out with another gentleman; the former getting into the coach, and the latter bidding the navy officer 'good night,' told the deponent to drive to Ormond Street, and then he believed went in again. That he accordingly drove to Ormond Street, and felt the check-string pulled; he drew up, dismounted, and opened the door--the navy officer alighted, and having removed the bags, paid him his fare, and went down the street; but deponent took no further notice of his proceedings, remounted his box, and drove to the stand in Charles Street, Covent Garden. He then got another fare to the Borough, and afterwards went home to the stables at Newington." "All this, if true, can easily be traced," said the magistrate; "it certainly is extremely mysterious--And the lieutenant did not go to his residence, nor has he been seen since? Was he a man of sober habits and reputable character?" "Most unexceptionable in both," replied the lawyer; "it is true that he had taken a glass or two of wine, but he was perfectly master of his actions--though I cannot altogether account for his leaving the coach where he did." "Pray," said the magistrate, addressing the coachman, "had you sufficient light or opportunity to observe the person of the officer?" "Vy not exactly, your vurship," answered Jehu; "it vas wery dark in Linkun's Inn, and them lamps arn't much good, only to blind people; but I saw the glittering of his buttons and his hanger, and could jist make out he vas a tall man; but he vhipped in in sich a hurry, that I hadn't much time to notice; nor did I think of anything of this here kind happening, for as long as I'm civil and gets my full fare, your vurship, I seldom troubles myself about other consarns." "But in Ormond Street," urged the magistrate, "there you possibly had better light and more time--what took place there?" "Vell, your vurship, I've tould you all as I knows," responded the witness. "The lamps in Ormond Street arn't never no better nor the rest in regard of lighting--they're pretty much like an ould watchman's eye. I seed as he was an officer of the navy, but arter he tipped the fare, and there was somut handsome over and above the reglar, I was too busy reckoning my money to take much notice--he went off with the bags, some on 'em he had got tied up in a handkercher; but what he had in em' I never guv a moment's thought to." "Was the officer sober?" inquired the magistrate. "Vell, your vurship, it arn't ezactly clear vot sobriety is," answered the coachman; "he might or he might not, for I took no perticklar notice, only he seemed to valk avay steady enough. He guv me five shillings; I said 'Thanky, yer honor,' and he says 'Good night,' and that vos all." "Should you know the gentleman again?" asked the lawyer, bending his keen gaze upon the man. "Vy, yes, I think I should, if I vos to see him as I did last night," responded the coachman; "but daylight alters people's looks, and I shouldn't like to svear." After other questions of no very material consequence, the magistrate decided that "the affair should be put into the hands of an experienced officer, who should thoroughly investigate the whole, and he would be ready to attend to any information as soon as it was obtained; but if no further light was thrown upon the transaction, and the lieutenant still remained absent, then he must request Mr. Brady to be in attendance at eleven o'clock the following morning, accompanied by his clerk, the bank agent, and all the evidence he could procure." In the mean time he recommended that intelligence should be given at the other offices, and diligent inquiry made at the hospitals; though in the first instance it would be best to commence the investigation in the neighbourhood of Ormond Street. Mr. Brady promised strict attention, and the parties withdrew. [Illustration] LOVE HAS LEGS. Strolling about from bower to hall, Love paid Lavinia a morning call. An hour soon went--she chatted and sang-- He staid--till at last the dinner-bell rang. He staid, still charm'd; and rather alarm'd, Lavinia felt she must ask him to stay. "To tell you the truth," cried the radiant youth, "I'm here for life, I shall ne'er go away." Love's fire shot through her in one wild flush, Till her heart itself might be seen to blush; Love saw, and finding it faithful and kind, Exclaim'd, "O Beauty, how long I've been blind!" More grateful grew he, more fervent she, More watchful, sensitive, warm, and fond; So much like light was he to her sight, She could not trust him a step beyond. Still more she cherish'd him year by year, Till at last each joy came tinged with fear; She fear'd, if he stroll'd where wild flowers meet, Lest thorns might pierce his delicate feet; Or a reptile's sting beneath his wing She fear'd, if he lay in the greenwood asleep; Or walk'd he awake by the moonlit lake-- In dread of an ague, how would she weep! She chatted and sang to Love no more, Lest music and chat should prove "a bore;" But she hung on his steps wherever he went, And shut from the chamber the rose's scent. She slept not a wink, for fear he should think She dream'd not of Love--so her eyes grew dim; She took no care of her beautiful hair, For she could not spare one moment from him. Love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt, Yet home was a desert if Love went out; In vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs; "O Love," cried the lady, "I've given you eyes! And ah! should some face of a livelier grace Than mine ever meet them! Ah! _should_ you stray!" Love, wearied at last, was in slumber lock'd fast;-- "Those wings!" said the watcher, "he _might_ fly away." One awful moment! Oh! could she sever Those wings from Love, he is hers for ever! With trembling hand she gathers the wings-- She clips--they are off! and up Love springs. "Adieu!" he cried, as he leapt from her side, "Of folly's cup you have drunk the dregs; My home was here; it is now with the deer; Thank Venus, though wingless, _Love has legs!_" L. B. BERNARD CAVANAGH, THE IRISH CAMELEON. Bernard Cavanagh is the name of a person who is now raising considerable sums of money in Dublin by professing to work miracles--the greatest of them all consisting in his ability to live without any food whatever--which he is now said to have done for several months. Crowds flock to him to be cured of their lameness, deafness, &c.--_Irish Papers._ Marvellous Erin! when St. Patrick's feat Thy hills, vales, plains, and bogs from reptiles freed, He little dream'd what monsters would succeed; Sinners who drink not, saints who never eat! And is there one, in whom the piece of meat Which Paris raves about, no care can breed! One who can never know a time of need, Though corn be trampled by the tempest's feet! Poor fellow! what enjoyment he foregoes! Nothing but air, a scrap of summer cloud, Fog with the chill off, is to him allow'd; A fine thick mist, or rainbow when it shows; But ah! for him no kitchen's steam up-flows; No knives, forks, spoons, or plates, a pilèd crowd, No dishes, glasses, salts, make music loud! Sad sinecurists all--mouth, ears, and nose! THE ASS ON THE LADDER. "For lowliness is young Ambition's ladder."--_Julius Cæsar._ At the end of the second volume of a Hebrew MS of the Bible, written on beautiful vellum, is the following passage, in fine large Hebrew characters:--"I, Meyer, the son of Rabbi Jacob, the scribe, have finished this book for Rabbi Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, the 5052nd year (A.D. 1292); and he has bequeathed it to his children and his children's children for ever. Amen. Amen. Amen. Selah. Be strong and strengthened. May this book not be damaged, neither this day nor for ever, until the ASS ascends the LADDER." After which the accompanying rude figure is drawn.--_Pettigrew's Bibliotheca Sussexiana_, part I. vol. i. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] It would appear from the curious sentence copied above, that no longer ago than five centuries and a half, the feat which is pictured to the spectator in a fac-simile of the original drawing was regarded as an event of extremely improbable occurrence. The inference indeed may be, that it was deemed an impossibility. The prayer of the inscription is, "May this book be undamaged for ever."--May it be preserved "until the ass ascends the ladder!" "Till Birnam wood shall come to Dunsinane," is the unlikely occurrence which the weird sisters specify as the omen of Macbeth's fall; and "That will never be!" is the cry of the confident thane. In modern days we wish a man "good luck till he's tired of it;" or "prosperity till the sky falls." The despairing and lovelorn damsel in the ditty sings-- "When fishes fly, and swallows dive, Young men they will prove true." And one of the same ballad-family sets out with the affecting declaration, that-- "When gooseberries grow on the stem of a daisy," the singer's passion will be no more. These, and a thousand examples of the "Not till then," are but versions of the Hebrew assumption of impossibility, expressed in the grotesque fancy of "the ass on the ladder." But it is clear that Meyer the son of Rabbi Jacob was not in Moorfields last year; it is certain that Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, little dreamed of what would be doing at Pimlico in the nineteenth century; for whether at Mayfair or at Bethnal Green, at Wapping or at Islington, one or both must have seen the impossibility realised, in the elevation of the donkey, before the upturned wondering eyes of a crowd of lingering mortals in the public thoroughfares. Lest there should be some who never saw the modern street-mountebank, going forth like Leporello with his ladder, and like Sancho with his donkey, we must describe his performance. His greatest feat consisted in balancing upon his chin a ladder with an ass on it. All other tricks performed, and all eyes and mouths opened, curiosity on tiptoe and incredulity on the stretch, forth came the wooden machine, and with legs twisted through the staves, up went the animal. "Who," exclaims the minstrel, "Ah who can tell how hard it is to climb!" But what poet ever found a steep so difficult as that _gradus ad Parnassum_ to the seemingly dislocated donkey? To the topmast round, you would see him clinging like Shakspeare's giddy sea-boy on the mast; and surveying the mountebank who had taught him to be such an astonishing ass, with a look that seemed to say, "You're another!" Then would his master send round the hat upon its last and greatest voyage of discovery; then would the halfpence therein be rattled harmlessly in the vacant faces of boys with vacant pockets, and then would the irresistible appeal be heard, "Come, good gen'lemen, be liberal, be liberal--tuppence more, and up goes the donkey." Then bending up each corporal agent for the terrible feat, up indeed would go the ladder, donkey and all; high up in air, until its lowest stave rested fairly and firmly on the protruded chin of the mountebank, where it stood poised, fixed, moveless--the astonishing type, or rather the exact model, of the balance of power in Europe. The amazement now should be transferred from the balanced to the balancer; for what is the difficulty of such a _gradus ad Parnassum_ to the ass, compared with the sore trial of the man below, who has made the bridge of his nose a _pons asinorum_! But in rivalship with the donkey, the human being shrinks into insignificance; the grotesque patience of the brute beats the strength and dexterity of the man hollow; the gazers are all wrapped in ecstasy to see how the ass hangs on, not how the cunning mountebank balances him. The sympathies of the crowd, men and boys, are triumphantly borne off by the four-legged performer, and every one of them goes away more convinced of the uncommon cleverness of the ass, and consequently on better terms with himself. But the obstinacy of the long-eared animal is proverbial; and in nothing is it more strikingly exhibited than in the fact that he _will_ eat if he can. So was it before the days of Æsop's ass, that cropped a thistle and was torn in pieces for confessing it; and so has it been before and since the hour when Sterne's ass consumed the macaroon which curiosity and not charity presented to him. It is possibly this expensive habit that has led the mountebank, of late, to cast off the donkey, and to substitute a boy for him, in the feat of the ladder. The performance to this hour is the same, with that exception--a two-legged juvenile for a four. Perhaps the mountebank was jealous of the ass! Can we assume that, in the nature of a mountebank balancing on his chin a ladder surmounted by a long-eared brute, there is no room for vanity? Can we imagine a donkey-balancer incapable of feeling annoyed, when he sees his subordinate--the agent through whom his own abilities are to be demonstrated--creating peals of laughter by doing nothing, trotting off with the spoils he did not win, and cropping every thistle of fame that belongs to another? There is no mind too shallow for vanity to take root in, no talent too small for it to twine itself round, no competitor too contemptible to pique and wound it. "Why, Edmund Kean couldn't get a hand of applause, with such a noisy brute as that in the piece!" said an actor in the drama of the _Dog of Montargis_, when the quadruped was howling over the murdered body of his master, and breaking the hearts of the audience. [Illustration] At all events the Boy _has_ taken the Ass's place on the ladder. The change may have arisen out of that tenderness for the brute creation which is too amiable a feeling--when in excess--to pass unadmired. There is a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals; and to risk a donkey's life on a ladder, for the sport of a heedless crowd, might be dangerous to the mountebank. In _this_ age, society at large knows what is due to donkeys; we can all enter into their feelings. But as there is no law, and no moral principle, against the elevation of a human urchin, even to the top stave of the ladder, there is no reason why the sport should not continue. Philosophers will explain to you, that a boy is a free agent, and has a right to be balanced on a human chin, if he likes; but a donkey has no will of his own at all--_except_--except when you've hired him for an hour, at Ramsgate, and are endeavouring to persuade yourself that you're trotting him out of the town. The last boy we saw balanced was worthy of the chin that sustained him. The mountebank to be sure was a miracle, and could have balanced anything. If the books of the Bank of England were to get into disorder, every sum confused, and every figure out of its place--he could balance them. But the boy was at least two miracles rolled into one--a more than Siamese prodigy--a boy, and yet an ass too. He looked more like one than the reality, his predecessor. He evidently felt the past importance of his elevation, high above his compeers. He seemed quite conscious that every inhabitant, not of _that_ simply, but of the _next_ parish, was gazing at him in profound amazement. He turned no glance, whether of contempt or benignant pity, on the open eyes and mouths around, but looked unutterable things at the knocker of a door opposite. "So stands the statue that enchants the world!" This, however, was only at the commencement of the performance, while the spectators were being coaxed to contribute, and while several among them, not knowing exactly what they were doing, were giving a half-penny. But when the ladder was deliberately hoisted up, and fixed on the chin, then came the utter hopelessness of presenting a true resemblance of the ass's face--the boy's we mean;--of the conscious pride in its own blankness, of its self-complacency, tinged with a slight touch of fear, amounting only to a pleasurable excitement! He was a boy picked out of the crowd around,--yet he was matchless. You saw at once that he was not _employed_ by the mountebank--that he was not _paid_ for being balanced. There was something in his look that distinguished him at a glance from the hired professor. It might be supposed that, the boy not being hired, there would be a little difficulty in procuring a substitute for the ass: not so; only blow a trumpet or beat a drum in the street, and you are surrounded in less than no time with able and willing volunteers. This boy entered into the soul of the ass's part; he did not hug, and hang on the ladder mechanically, or like one who had done the same thing a dozen times before, that very day. There was the freshness of the young aspiration, the delicious novelty of the first grand step in life--in the attempt. It was young Ambition (as Brutus says) just mounting his ladder. He was animated by the glorious intoxication of getting up in the world. He looked direct forward; not at, but through, the brick wall opposite, into futurity. If one of his schoolfellows had called out, "Master's a coming;" or, "Here's your father with the cartwhip;" or, "Bill, I'm blessed if here arn't the woman what we stole the apples on;"--no, even these notes of alarm would have failed to disturb his equanimity--or his equilibrium. "Have a slice o' cold pudden, Bill?" might have communicated perhaps to some part of his frame a momentary touch of human weakness--we can't say positively--boys are but men;--but nothing short of such an appeal to the weak side of his nature could have disturbed his rapt and lofty musings. Since the days of the Hebrew with which we set out, when the Ass on the Ladder was but a fiction, history has recorded the doings--we had almost said the sayings--of scores of wonderful quadrupeds. We have had gifted horses, who should have been elected F.R.S.'s; learned pigs, who should have been chosen LL.D.'s; humane dogs, who merit statues like Howard's; and industrious fleas, who do the work of hot water in putting lobsters to the blush. But such an ass as the Lad on the Ladder eye never beheld but that once. His face spread before our curious and inquiring gaze, like a map of the world, and we traced in recollection an infinite variety of character. What it more immediately suggested was the expression in the face of a successful candidate at the moment of "chairing," elevated in some fantastic car, surrounded with banners bearing patriotic mottoes and devices, and accompanied by roaring raggamuffins. It also conjured up a vision of a youthful aspirant, fresh from the office or the shop, strutting in Richard, or fretting in Hamlet, before eight long sixes, and a full bench of aunts, in a private theatre. The ass on the ladder brings to memory a thousand other spectacles. When we behold an orator (to listen is impossible) flourishing his arms on the hustings, and ever and anon placing his hand upon his crimson waistcoat, or declaiming for an hour together before a private company to the exclusion of conversation, in full force of lungs, but in virtue of no mental superiority, we are forcibly reminded of the ass on the ladder. When we see a sprig of fashion, who only obtained his nobility yesterday, and whose worth, if put up to auction, would be dear at the price of a mushroom, insolently claiming precedence of the untitled bearer of an ancient and honourable name; or when we observe the high-born, starched up to the eyes, sneering at humble birth, however associated with merit, and cutting modest respectability for a parvenu; in these cases we cannot help thinking of the ass on the ladder. When we see a vulgar jack, in virtue of his office raised to the rank of gentleman, treating a poor suitor, who asks for his own, as if he were a beggar asking alms; or a sleek-headed, rosy-gilled idiot, who lives only in his own breeches-pocket, pretending to patronise talent because he doles out, for its exercise, what scarcely keeps its possessor from starving, we are very apt to call to recollection the ass on the ladder. When a connoisseur, influential by position, sits down to decide, in just ten minutes, upon the merits of a work of art or science, which has cost the producer years of anxious study and ceaseless labour; or when a military despot lives but to harass, irritate, and torture the sensitive and honourable minds of those ill-fated officers, who, superior perhaps in everything else, happen to be below him in rank and fortune,--we immediately recur for a parallel to the ass on the ladder. When we see a millionnaire, who has crawled along the road to riches until he can't stand upright, grasping with usurious hands at the little still retained by those who helped him to rise; or when a sudden puff of fortune has blown an adventurer into power and affluence, and we see him so giddy that he doesn't know his own poor relations, and actually can't recognise in broad daylight the struggling friend who lent him five pounds three months before,--then, and under all similar circumstances, we are sure to think of the ass on the ladder. When we behold a gentleman turning jockey or stage-coachman, quitting the legislature for the stable or the cockpit, winking at the worst vices until he becomes himself tainted, and devoting his time and money to the destruction of his own health and the demoralisation of his hangers-on; or when we see a barrister, bullying with conscious impunity a trembling, blushing, inexperienced witness (perhaps a woman) until common sense becomes confused, truth begins to contradict herself, and honesty steps out of the witness-box, looking very much like a rogue,--why, who can fail to associate with spectacles like these, the ass on the ladder? But it is not merely in the army and on the stage, at the bar and in literature, in the walks of commerce and in the world of fashion, that we daily detect some living prototype of the long-eared animal in the ascendant. If public meetings exhibit them, public schools do so no less abundantly. There is a great deal of ladder-climbing going on at the universities; and not a proctor in the precincts of learning but could tell many tales of asinine ambition. Who more irresistibly calls to mind the ass on the ladder than the noble knocker-wrencher, or the gentlemanly bell-destroyer, when brought up--many staves up the ladder now--before a magistrate, and indulgently allowed to take his choice--a fine of forty shillings, _or_ a month at the treadwheel? When the noble and gentlemanly sport extends to the pummelling of police-officers, only stopping within an ace of manslaughter, then the animal may be said to have reached the topmost stave--an elevation where every kick with which he indulges himself in his playful humour adds incalculably to his own imminent danger. The higher the ascent, the greater the ass. We have seen many instances, more melancholy than ludicrous, of asses falling from the very top. For ourselves, we must candidly confess to a painful consciousness of having been--occasionally, and for not many days together--yet of having been, ere now, beyond all mistake, upon the ladder adverted to. Nay, emboldened by the virtuous frankness of this self-criminating admission, we even venture to put it to our (male) readers, whether they cannot recollect having had their own feet, at some time of their lives, on the first round of the ladder; whether they do not feel sensible of having placed just one foot on that lowest step of the ascent--one only--for we would not dare to insinuate that they ever got farther, lest they should turn upon us with the mortifying, and perhaps not altogether mistaken discovery, that we ourselves, even in this moment of moralising, have reached the top of it! OMNIBUS CHAT. The "Omnibus" had hardly started off, on the first of the month, from the door of Messrs. Tilt and Bogue, and taken a westerly direction up Fleet Street, commencing without the loss of an hour its monthly tour in search of the picturesque, when it was stopped for the purpose of taking in a passenger. This was at the corner of Bolt Court, out of which classical and celebrated avenue tumbled rather than walked a gentleman stout and elderly, with a bluff good-humoured countenance, all the pleasanter for an air of sternness which was evidently affectation. Having got in, he seated himself immediately opposite to us, that is to say, at the left-hand corner of the vehicle next the door, and at once began, as though he had been the ghost of Dr. Johnson, and possessed the unquestionable right in that neighbourhood to take the lead in conversation. "Sir," he said, "you have made a fair start, but a start is not a journey. Now there's a fact for you--and it's a fact which the producers of Number-ones are deplorably prone to forget. With me, Sir, first numbers go for nothing. Some people will tell you that your No. 1. is _a proof as far as it goes_ of what you mean to do in this new vehicle of yours. Sir, some people are very fond of a 'proof as far as it goes.' But how far does it go? If you see a man in a black coat to-day, and you meet the same man in a blue coat to-morrow, it's 'a proof as far as it goes,' that he is the possessor of three hundred and sixty-five coats, or one for every day in the year. But still, sir, you have made a fair start. Let me warn you against stoppages; never stop but when you have to take up or set down. Don't overload your vehicle. No racing, but go quietly. All of which means, don't cut knotted oaks with razors, and when you have a 'wee crimson-tipped flower' to paint, don't make a great red flare of it. Above all, sir, never follow advice, however excellent, when it is offered to you in a long speech; for the man who would presume to take up two minutes and a half of your valuable time at one sitting, deserves to be put into a Mile-end omnibus by mistake, when he's bound for Turnham Green direct." We had scarcely time to thank our gruff but good-humoured adviser--whom we at once set down for a chip of that respectable old block, the Public in General, and identified as a specimen of Middle-aged People in Town and Country--we had barely time to assure him that his last important suggestion at all events should be especially remembered, when a voice burst forth from the further end of the vehicle, where in the dim light the speaker was only just visible. He was a very young man, evidently of the last new school, and in a tone of jocular familiarity he called out, "I wish that gentleman from Bolt Court would explain the phenomenon of a new work being started with a preface so totally unlike the prefaces of all new works published during the last half-century, which invariably begin with 'Dr. Johnson has observed.'" The elderly passenger appealed to, frowned; but in less than a minute the frown gave way to a smile, and without further noticing the challenge, he said, "Dr. Johnson is not responsible for a ten-thousandth part of what during the last half-century has been observed in his name. His mimics are calumniators, and they have distorted his sentiments as remorselessly as they have disfigured his style. Since subjects of caricature are not prescribed in the present company, I may safely put it to the vote whether any exaggeration is more gross than that which commonly passes in the world for exact imitation. There are people who can trace resemblances in the most opposite and unlikely forms. Old ladies, stirring the fire, and tumbling the bright cinders into new combinations, will often hit upon a favourite coal and cry, 'Well, I declare if that isn't like Mrs. Jenkinson.' And no doubt the resemblance is quite as perfect as that between the ridiculed manner of Johnson, and the rumblings of his sneering mimics. He, with a full measure of language but not an overflow, with nice inflexions, a studied balance, yet with a simple elegance not destroyed by his formality, opens a story--stay, I can give you a graceful passage of the Doctor's, and in the same breath you shall hear how it would come spluttering forth from the clumsy pen of his imitators. "'DR. JOHNSON HIMSELF. "'Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promise of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the History of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia.' "'DR. JOHNSON IMITATED. "'Ye who listen with ignorant credulity to the whispering blandishments of fancy, and pursue with inconsiderate eagerness the enchanting and seductive phantoms of hope; who idly expect that grudging age will perform the rash but generous promise of thoughtless youth, and that the glaring deficiencies of the present day will be providentially supplied by the inexhaustible profusion of the morrow; attend to the moral history of Rasselas, Crown Prince of Abyssinia.'" "There is much truth in what you observe," said a quiet modest-looking passenger on our left to the talkative Johnsonite, who deprecated long speeches; "much truth; and perhaps as you dislike exaggeration in whatever professes to imitate, you might be entertained with one of my 'Photographic Pictures,' warranted accurate. I am, sir, yours respectfully, H. G. A. Now as there happens to be one of these pictures distinctly present to my eye at this moment, though the scene is far from Fleet Street, I think I can copy it to the life, and if you please we'll call it-- "A SCENE NEAR HOGSNORTON. "A ditch frequented much by water-rats, With velvet-headed rushes borderèd; Two little boys who fish for tittlebats With sticks, and crooked pins, and bits of thread; Three willow trees that stand with drooping boughs Upon the banks, and look disconsolate; A bull that flings his tail up as he lows-- He's coming at those boys, as sure as fate! A church spire peeping from amid the trees, With vane in semblance of a fiery cock; And Farmer Stubbles lolling at his ease, Across a gate to view his fleecy flock; A barn that seems just ready to fall down, And _would_, but for the shores that stay its falling; And, where yon row of elms the green slopes crown, Is Thomas Noakes, with hand to mouth, outcalling To Simon Simpson in the fields below, And telling him to mind that precious bull-- He's fresh from town, poor lad, and does not know What danger lurks amid the beautiful; Here a tall oak its branches flingeth out, As if it said--"I am of trees the king!" And there an aged hawthorn spreads about Its crooked arms--a queer misshapen thing; Far off you see a mill--more trees--some houses-- Look at this frisking colt, why what a kicker!-- _Feathers and parasols!_ here come the spouses Of Dr. Dobbs, and Mr. Trench, the vicar, The Smiths, the Joneses, and Jemimah Prescot-- I'm off, before they nail me for their escort!" The reciter, who wore an air that bespoke him of the country, was here addressed by a metropolitan gentleman seated in his vicinity, who announced himself as a brother initialist, A. G. K. "Well, sir, Simon Simpson, 'fresh from town,' was not more awkwardly situated than I once was, in this very lane here, when fresh from the country. You see the vehicle has just turned out of Fleet Street, and is making for Holborn; so if you like to listen, I'll give you my impressions on first finding myself in "CHANCERY LANE. "I meditated the desperate design of hastening to Holborn by the first street which led thither; a desperate design, indeed, as I knew not the street through which I should have to pass. As ill-luck would have it, "Chancery Lane" was the first that offered, and well does it deserve the name; dark, narrow, crooked, long, and tedious is this Elysium of the Law! On every side I beheld long and careworn faces, and, as is generally the case with legal suits, I might easily have got through it alone, had I not been prevented by the many passengers, like the numerous little cases put into causes to protract and swell the client's difficulties. Perhaps it may be thought that I could have stepped into the middle of the street, and so have managed to walk on; not so--the vehicles were as numerous nearly as the passengers, and there was no resource but to wait. On this, I began to look around me, to see if I could discover anything that could take away the tedium of stoppage. I gazed on the persons nearest to me; from the youngest to the oldest--from the poorest to the richest, there was the same invariable careworn look. "First there came the young office-boy, groaning under a large bag of parchment and what not; then the unfortunate articled clerk, desponding at the idea of five years in so gloomy a place, wherein his youth's best years were to be spent. The needy clerks, who received a stipend, came next; their little all had, with the characteristic theatrical mania of lawyers' clerks, vanished the night previous at the Adelphi, or adjacent tavern. But not alone did these wear a look of gloom: the fishermen, the snarers, even the attorneys themselves, looked vexed; the stoppage of the way teased them sadly. It was five minutes past the time when that little bony wretch, the office boy, should have been screwed down to his comfortless stool, far from the apparition of a fire, from the phantom of heat! Last of all came the client: it will easily be surmised why he looked gloomy. "The sun never shines there--the houses take care of that; in fact, the very 'fretwork' of the heavens seemed of a parchment yellow; the air breathed of briefs! No merry laugh is heard in Chancery Lane; no girl trips gaily along! No! the moaning of the dupe is heard there; the decrepit, grief-worn widow totters there, to find that her hope of subsistence is faded in useless expense. I have spoken of the numerous conveyances in the street. The horses were half-starved, the people within seemed bailiffs; and the omnibus proprietors (unlike our '_Omnibus_') looked anxiously for in-comers. "Chancery Lane is, indeed, a fit place for the law: the houses overhang the street--the smoky windows, ay even the few shops seem impregnated with it. I turned to a book-stall to relieve my aching gaze, when a massive row of calf-bound volumes frowned upon me; I looked in a fruiterer's stall,--dry musty raisins, bitter almonds, olives and sour apples met my view. I then cast my eyes at a perfumery-shop; the wax dummies were arrayed in judge's wigs and black legal drapery. In despair I turned to a tailor's: a figure arrayed in black, on a wooden mould, appeared; but it was swathed in a barrister's gown. There was another figure with finely-cut clothes certainly; but allegorically, I suppose, it had no head. Such is Chancery Lane. My associations with it are none of the pleasantest. What are yours?" This question, addressed to everybody, was answered by nobody. We had now advanced to the upper end of Chancery Lane; and, passing those buildings on the left, in which Equity presides over the affairs of suitors, a passenger, who introduced himself under the designation of Sam Sly, and in whose eye there was a pleasant twinkle not ill associated with the appellation, observed in an inward tone, as if he were speaking to himself, "A poor devil who has once got into that court, must soon feel himself in the position of the letter _r_." As Mr. Sly's remark was not intended to be heard at all--so at least it seemed--it of course attracted general notice; and as there was a disposition manifested to know "why," Mr. Sly politely explained, "Because, though far advanced in Chancery, he can never get quite to the end of it. By the way," he proceeded, "all law is but an enigma; and talking of enigmas, I happen to have one--yes, here it is. Rather an old-fashioned sort of thing, an enigma, eh? True, but so are epics, you know. Am I to read? oh! very well, since you're all so pressing;"--and then to the following tune Mr. Sly trolled out his ENIGMA. "A delinquent there is, and we ever shall scout him, For roguery never would flourish without him. We're lovers of peace; but regardless of quiet, This knave is the first in a row or a riot; A strange, paradoxical elf, we declare, That shies at a couple but clings to a pair. Though at first in the right, still he's found in the wrong; And though harmony wakes him, yet dies in the song. Three fifths of the error that poisons our youth, Yet boasts of a formal acquaintance with truth. Though not fond of boasting, yet given to brag; And though proud of a dress, still content with a rag. He sticks to our ribs, and he hangs by our hair, And brings with him trouble, and torment and care; Stands thick in our sorrows and floats in our tears, Never leads us to Hope, but returns with our Fears; To the worst of our passions is ever allied, Grief, Anger, and Hatred, Rage, Terror, and Pride. Yet still, notwithstanding, the rogue we might spare If he kept back his old ugly phiz from the Fair." We had by this time stopped at the end of Drury Lane to take up a passenger, who now appeared, emerging from that very dirty avenue, with an exceedingly small roll of MS. under his arm. The new-comer's eye was evidently in a fine frenzy rolling, and it was at once suspected from one end of the vehicle to the other, that he had just been writing a German Opera for Drury-lane Theatre. "Gentlemen," said he, the instant he had taken his seat, "you're all mistaken. Through that miserable cranny I have been picking a path to the theatre for the sole purpose of taking off my hat to the statue of Shakspeare, over the portico, in celebration of the event which renders its presence there no longer a libel and a mockery. You guess what I allude to. Mr. Macready has become the lessee of Drury; and the noble task which he assigned to himself in the management of Covent Garden, he purposes here to complete. The whole public will rejoice in the renewal of his experiment, which should be hailed in golden verse. I wish I could write sonnets like Milton or Wordsworth. Here are two, such as they are, addressed to the regenerator of the stage." TO WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY, ON HIS BECOMING THE LESSEE OF OLD DRURY. I. MACREADY, master of the Art supreme. That shows to dazzled and else guideless eyes (As doth Astronomy the starry skies) The airy wonders of our Shakspeare's dream; Com'st thou again to shed a wakening gleam Of morals, taste, and learning, where the gloom Most darkens, as around the Drama's tomb! Oh, come, and show us yet the true Extreme; Transcendent art, for coarse and low desire; The generous purpose, for the sordid aim; For noise and smoke, the music and the fire Of time-crown'd poets; for librettos tame, The emulous flashings of the modern lyre-- Come, and put scowling Calumny to shame! II. What though with thee come Lear, himself a storm Of wilder'd passion, and the musing Dane, The gallant Harry and his warrior-train, Brutus, Macbeth, and truth in many a form Towering! not therefore only that we warm With hope and praise; but that thy glorious part Is now to raise the Actor's trampled Art, And drive from out its temple a loose swarm Of things vice-nurtured--from the Porch and Shrine! And know, Macready, midst the desert there, That soon shall bloom a garden, swells a mine Of wealth no less than honour--both most bare To meaner enterprise. Let that be thine-- Who knowest how to risk, and how to share! L. B. Hereupon, a bard started up in the very remotest corner, and interposed in favour of the epigram, seeing that such oddities as sonnets and enigmas were allowed to pass current. Immediately, and by unanimous invitation, he produced some lines written in the album of a fair damsel, whose sire has but one leg, and complains of torture in the toes that he has not. "The heart that has been spurn'd by you Can never dream of love again, Save as old soldiers do of pain In limbs they left at Waterloo." We expressed our acknowledgments, and then heaved a sigh to the memory of an old friend, who, having suffered from the gout before his limb was amputated, felt all the pain, just as usual, at the extremity of his wooden leg, which was regularly flannelled up and rubbed as its living predecessor used to be. But here our reflections were broken off by a stoppage, as if instinctively, at a chemist's shop, the door of which, standing open, afforded a fair view of the scene which follows. On the subject of hom[oe]opathy we profess to hold no opinion; but, considering that it prescribes next to nothing to its patients, it must be an excellent system for a man who has next to nothing the matter with him. It is comical, at all events, to think of a doctor of that school literally carrying his "shop" in his pocket, and compressing the whole science of medicine into the smallest Lilliputian nut-shell. Imagine a little customer going with A LARGE ORDER TO A HOMOEOPATHIC APOTHECARY. [Illustration] _Little Girl._ "Please, sir, I want the hundred-thousandth part of a grain of magnesia." _Young Chemist_ (Whose hair would certainly stand on end, were it not so tightly pommaded down, at the simplicity of the little innocent in asking for as much medicine as would kill or cure a whole regiment of soldiers). "Very sorry, miss, but we don't sell anything in such large quantities; you had better apply at Apothecaries' Hall." And he follows her to the shop-door to see whether she had brought with her a hackney-coach or a van to carry away the commodity she had inquired for! * * * * * _Driver._ I say, Tom, here's that there elderly lady a coming, as wanted to go with us at our first start. _Cad._ Ay, well, it's no use, Bill--she's too late _agen_--ve're full--ALL RIGHT--GO ON! [Illustration: _An Election Squib._] "MY VOTE AND INTEREST." A COMMUNICATION FROM MR. SIMPLETON SCHEMER, OF DOLTFORD-LODGE, CROOKSLEY. Crooksley doesn't return members to Parliament--I wish it did. I'm sure I took pains enough ten years ago to procure for it--all my property being situate there--the privilege which was at that time accorded to other towns of consideration and respectability; for although the population doesn't much exceed three hundred and sixty, I took upon myself to make a return of our numbers to the then Secretary of State, which _ought_ to have prevailed in our favour; for I proved that the population amounted to within a dozen of seven thousand, merely by including the churchyard, which I well might do, as part and parcel of Crooksley itself, and adding the affectionate wives, virtuous husbands, and filial prodigies, now no more, to the estimate of the living inhabitants; also, by anticipating the returns of christenings for a few succeeding years; which was easily done by guessing, on the authority of Blandish (our medical man, with whom I was at that time friendly), what number of children extra the various increasing families within the boundaries of Crooksley were likely to be blessed with. Not the smallest notice, however, was taken of my memorial; and Crooksley to this hour does not return a single representative. I read an advertisement the other day in our county paper, of some new patent strait-waistcoats; which advertisement was headed thus:--"Worthy the attention of the Insane!" Now, if Crooksley had been enfranchised, that is the very heading which might have been affixed to an advertisement for an independent candidate to represent it at the present crisis--"_Candidate wanted--worthy the attention of the Insane!_" for a place more unlucky in its elections, more ill-omened and perverse in all its contests, more predestined to choose the wrong candidate, or more wilfully bent on self-destruction by scorning the advice of its best friends and patrons, I never lived in, since the day I sold my stock and good-will, and retired from the Old Jewry for ever. To every other place with which I am acquainted entrance is obtained by regular roads; to Crooksley, I verily believe, there is no egress whatever but by _cross_-roads. I'm thinking of selling Doltford-lodge--cheap. The first contest that ever took place in Crooksley--for it is odd enough, but they never could get up a contested election until I, having retired from business, went to settle there in the enjoyment of concord, harmony, and peace,--the first contest occurred several years ago. It was a struggle--and well do I remember it--for the office of organist. No sooner was the place vacant--almost, I might say, before the bellows of the departed holder had lost their last breath of wind--than up started half-a-dozen of the nobs of Crooksley, with Dr. Blandish at their head, and down they came to me at the lodge with a flourishing testimonial to sign--a testimonial in favour of Miss Cramper, as a fit and proper person to fill the post of organist. Miss Cramper! And who was Miss Cramper, I internally asked myself. But I couldn't answer the question. I knew, in fact, little about her, except that she had lived long in the place, had decent connexions, not over rich, and happened to be a capital musician; the best organ-player, I must admit, that anybody ever heard in or out of our village. But with this exception she hadn't a single claim, not a pretension that I know of, to the post of organist. She was not asthmatic--she had not nine children, seven of them solely depending upon her for support--nor did she even pretend to have lost her eyesight, "or any part thereof," as Knix the lawyer says; for she was ogling Blandish all throughout the interview, as if she looked upon _him_ to be the first-fiddle in Crooksley--Humph! Well! I confess I didn't like the proceeding; and so, after assuring the requisitionists, in the friendliest manner, that Miss Cramper should certainly have my vote and interest--in the event, I added, more to myself, perhaps, than to them--in the event of no candidate coming forward to oppose her,--what did I do but I brought forward a candidate of my own! It so happened that I had taken down there with me from the Old Jewry an elderly warehouseman, whom I couldn't well send adrift, and who was of no earthly use to me, either in the house or in the grounds. Now, poor Joggins, besides being bent double, chanced, very luckily, to have eyes like an owl, and there were the strongest hopes of their becoming speedily weaker; so that here at once was a qualification. In addition to that, he had had two sons: one, a waterman, drowned by the usual means, collision with a steamer, was easily elevated into a British seaman dying in defence of his country; and the other, for whom I had obtained a situation in the new police, was, of course, one of the brave devoted guardians of his native land. To crown our good-luck, Joggins had been very fond of playing the flute before wind got so very valuable to him, and really did know something practically of that enchanting instrument, so that his qualifications as an organist were more than indisputable. Yet, strange to say, his nomination was the signal for violent opposition; and a tremendous conflict ensued. I was determined that Blandish, though backed by the vicar, should not carry everything before him with a high hand, nor become, what, ever since the part I had taken relative to the enfranchisement question, he was striving to be, the dictator of Crooksley. My own influence was not slight, and a powerful party rose up, notwithstanding our adversaries were earliest in the field. The walls were everywhere placarded, families were everywhere divided by circulars. "Vote for Joggins," "Vote for Cramper;" "Joggins and grey hairs," "Cramper and Musical Accomplishments;" "Joggins the veteran parent of our brave defenders," "Cramper and Female Virtue;" "Joggins and the failure of eyesight." "Cramper and Organic changes:" these were among the changes rung throughout the village, and a mile or two round it, for upwards of three weeks. I called public meetings, at which I took the chair, and personally carried the resolutions; and I started a Crooksley Chronicle, of which I was at once the editor and all the correspondents. In both capacities I defied our antagonists to prove that their candidate had any one of the qualifications by which ours was so abundantly distinguished. I dared them to prove that there were any brave defenders on the other side; that there existed any ocular weakness; that there was a single grey hair or any symptom of decrepitude: while, on the other hand, I showed triumphantly that the legitimate candidate for the office of organist was a veteran flute-player, utterly and hopelessly incapable of any exertion whatever, and unobjectionable by the excess of his infirmity. Blandish was so alarmed at the progress we made, that he began to give out in reply that Miss Cramper was considerably more advanced in years than had been insidiously suggested; that her eyesight was anything but vivid; that what seemed to be her own hair might not bear examination; and possibly he would have proceeded to other intimations tending to balance her claims with those of Joggins, had she not stopped him with the declaration that she would rather lose her election, rather retire from the contest, than sanction such gross misrepresentations of fact. Truth, she said, was everything, and it must prevail; her hair was her own, and her eyes piercers, she thanked Heaven. But notwithstanding this electioneering attack upon his own nominee, I saw that Blandish was on the very best terms with Miss C.; and as the interest he took in her success could not solely be attributed to gratitude for her attendance at all his evening parties, to play his guests into patients, by provoking headaches that demanded draughts and powders in the morning, I issued, the day previously to the poll, a placard containing surely a very inoffensive query, thus--"WHY is Blandish the patron of Miss Cramper?" The "why" was in very large capitals. Now will it be believed that this, though it asserted nothing disrespectful, and merely put an innocent question, immediately created a very strong sympathy throughout Crooksley in favour of our adversaries, and that the popular feeling was instantly shown in tumultuous cries of "Cramper for ever!" So it happened, however. The result was, that the venerable Joggins had virtually lost his election before the expiration of the first hour of polling. I then, feeling that every vote was wanted, went forward to record my own; when perceiving Blandish (he had a horsewhip in his hand), I turned back with the view of bringing up a batch of electors from a distant part of the village; and on my return all was at an end, and so my vote wasn't wanted; for Joggins, the old idiot, had resigned. I had a disagreeable encounter afterwards with that Blandish, who is, I really think, fonder of carrying a horsewhip than any man I know; but gloriously was I at a subsequent period revenged; for I shammed a long illness, sent off to a neighbouring town for an apothecary, and paid him thirty-seven pounds odd for attendance which I never required, and medicine which I never tasted! Poor Blandish was so irritated, that he fell really ill himself, and took his own mixtures for three weeks. About a year after this we had another election in Crooksley. The gravediggership became vacant. The Blandish party, who had the churchwardens with them, wanted to get in young Digdum, the son of the late official; and he would have walked the course sure enough, if I hadn't brought forward little Spick the cross-sweeper to oppose him. Party feeling never ran so high, I think, as on this memorable occasion. Everybody felt the cause to be his own, and put forth his energies as though the issue of the struggle depended upon his exertions. It was like a life-and-death contest; and you would have thought that the consequence of being beaten was the being buried alive by the victorious candidate. I'm sure that if it had been to keep ourselves out of "apartments furnished" in the churchyard, we Spickites could not have toiled harder. Nor were the Digdumites idle. On our side we had ranged, besides myself, who acted as chairman of the committee, Lawyer Knix (who handsomely volunteered his gratuitous services at two guineas a day); Fobbs, the landlord of the Crumpet and Spade; Tipson, of the Vicar's Head; (both of them very fond of an opposition, and always ready to further my views in bringing forward a candidate, and in keeping the poll open to the latest moment allowed by law;) then we had the crack printer of our town, whose charges were very moderate; several of the neighbouring gentry, friends of my own; and one Swarthy Sam, a character who had no fixed abode in Crooksley, nor indeed anywhere else, and had not, therefore, a vote to give--but who kindly took an interest in the contest, and who proved a most valuable agent, for he particularly knew what he was about in a row, could drown by his own unaided lungs the voice of the most stentorian speaker on the other side, and would tear down, I do think, more of the enemy's placards in an hour than they could stick up in a day. On their side, they had the fat churchwarden, and the stately master of the workhouse; the skeleton of a schoolmaster, the parish-lawyer (Knix was independent), and various other paid functionaries or hirelings. Well, there wasn't one of them that didn't wish himself well out of Crooksley before the contest was over; for we left nothing of their private history unraked, I can tell you. The "Crooksley Chronicle" came again into play, and I wrote letters--in Junius's style--only under the various signatures of Vindex, Justitia, A Spickite, Philo-Spickite, Veritas, An Admirer of Crooksley, Anti-Digdum, &c. &c. We also raised with remarkable success, a cry of "No brickdust, no pigs' bristles!" in conjunction with the cry of "No Digdum." It did not in point of fact mean anything in particular, as far as we were aware, but it vexed the Digdum party amazingly, and made Spick surprisingly popular[4]. The best of the fun was that we had forestalled them in taking possession of _both_ public-houses--the Crumpet and Spade, and the Vicar's Head--for our committee-rooms; so that they had only a little bit of a beer-shop to assemble in. This drove the Digdum party to distraction. They made incredible exertions to get us out of the Vicar's Head; and a deputation came privately to our worthy host's good dame, and offered, if Digdum were returned, to bury her husband for nothing--for poor Tipson was sadly apoplectic! Such were the too-powerful temptations (for so in some instances they proved), such the demoralising practices, to which our depraved and desperate opponents had resort. They went to Clank the blacksmith, and promised, if he would but vote for Digdum, they would see him and all his family buried with pleasure free of charge; but Clank was not to be seduced, for having once had a turn-up with Swarthy Sam in the skittle-ground, he preferred being on the same side _with_ Sam, you see--not caring to fall out--and to say the truth, they were not a few that had similar feelings. Sam was a capital canvasser, and it wasn't everybody that would like to say "No" to him. At last dawn'd the day, the important day, "Big with the fate of Digdum or of Spick." Every soul in Crooksley was out of doors; the excitement was intense; seventeen pots of beer and best part of a round of beef were consumed at the Crumpet and Spade alone before ten in the morning. Every chaise, fly, and hack in old Wheeler's yard was in requisition. Both parties were particularly well satisfied with the result of the canvass, and assembled at the place of nomination with equal confidence. Our flags bore the several inscriptions of "Spick the opponent of Corruption," "Spick and Span," "Spades are trumps," &c.; theirs had, "No Cross-sweeper," "No Sweeping Changes," "Digdum and the Rites of the Departed," &c. &c. Blandish nominated Digdum, and then I proposed Spick in a neat and appropriate speech. Well we gained our election--that is, we gained it by a show of hands; but the other party took the mean advantage of demanding a poll. There was instantly a rush of upwards of a dozen on their side, and very near a score on ours. To keep up the advantage we had gained was the thing. Unfortunately some of our safest voters were now drunk, having received eighteen-pence a piece to attend the nomination of candidates; and instead of flocking to the poll, off they went to the Vicar's Head, or the Crumpet and Spade, swearing they wouldn't vote at all unless supplied with pots round; which Fobbs and Tipson very readily drew for them: I having desired those disinterested persons in the morning not to stand very nice about a measure or two of ale, and they promised me they would not, as I was to pay. And this, in fact, I shouldn't have minded; but, unluckily, the worthy electors got so drunk that they absolutely forgot what colours they fought under, and went and voted for the wrong candidate. This turned the scale against us. What was to be done? I had already got some of the Digdumites away; a tenant of mine, seven miles off, having engaged to "coop" them, that is, to make them "fuddled," and to prevent their return in time. A few more must be pounced upon. Swarthy Sam (that invaluable election-agent) undertook to inveigle them and manage the business. We got a vehicle or two; and partly by cajolery, partly by intimidation, and a display of the enemy's colours, off we carried in an opposite direction to the poll a batch of Digdum's supporters. Away we drove, Sam conducting us, through by-lanes and across ploughed-fields, I may say, so that I hardly knew where I was. Deaf to all remonstrances, on we went, till, feeling pretty secure, I pretended it was time to turn back or we should all be too late for the poll, and jumped down to consult privately with Sam as to the expediency of further stratagems; when--to my inexpressible astonishment and confusion, as you may well imagine--my swarthy vagabond of an agent, whom I trusted on account of his bad character, and because nobody else would, indulged his lungs with the most vociferous roar of laughter I ever heard, to which the entire party added a chorus. In one instant the whole line of vehicles wheeled round and galloped off towards Crooksley, leaving me staggering helplessly into a deep ditch on my left, overcome with rage, mortification, and dismay. They all arrived in time to vote for Digdum, Sam and all, who went up arm in arm with Clank, the blacksmith. As for me, I never found my way back until hours after the poll had closed; and as I approached the scene with a foreboding heart, the first person I encountered was the defeated Spick--Spick the rejected of Crooksley--who bitterly assailed me as the sole cause of his total "ruination," having spoiled his trade of cross-sweeping by exciting everybody against him, and reduced him to a condition that promised his successful rival immediate employment in his new profession. "I shouldn't ha' minded," he said, with a sneer, "your not guving on me your wote, but what I complains on is, you would guv me your hintrest!" After this, as you may well suppose, I grew rather disgusted, and a little sick of exercising one's public spirit and disinterested philanthropy to no purpose; so I permitted Dr. Blandish to triumph on one or two occasions, rather than subject the town to the inconvenience of a contested election. I allowed the boy Bratts, whom he patronised, to get elected into our Juvenile Asylum without opposition; and when Soppy put up for the situation of turncock, full in the teeth of Blandish's pet candidate, though he came to me and implored the favour of my vote and interest, I gave him neither. I did not poll for him, nor did I solicit a soul in his behalf; yet Soppy won the election by a considerable majority. Indeed Blandish has been disgracefully beaten on more than one occasion when I had disdained to interfere at all; though whenever I _have_ interfered--when I have canvassed my very heart out, and talked the teeth out of my head--bribing here, treating there--threatening this man with the loss of my custom, and tempting the other with all sorts of seductive promises--hang me (for it puts me in a passion!) if he hasn't been triumphantly successful. There was the election of a contractor to supply leather-shorts to the charity school. I decided to take no part in it; but when I perceived which way the election was sure to go, when I saw which man would beat to a dead certainty, I changed my mind, threw all my influence into the scale of the popular candidate, gave him my entire support, and would have given him my vote--only he resigned on the morning of the election not having a chance of winning; for directly I took up his cause, he began to lose ground:--odd enough, you will say, but it so happened; although I set a barrel flowing at Tipson's, promised old coats at Christmas to two dozen ragged but independent electors, and gave at least half that number of the better class permission to shoot on my property. The last great battle that I fought was on behalf of widow Bricks, candidate for the office of housekeeper to our Infirmary. Here Dr. B. was "top-sawyer," as they say; this was carrying the war into the enemy's country. All Crooksley was astonished, petrified almost, at my boldness; but I was lucky in my choice of a candidate, the Bricks having been resident in the place as long as Crooksley itself had been in existence, and the widow being left with eleven small children; while the Doctor's candidate hadn't the smallest scrap of offspring to go to the poll with. So to the work of philanthropy I went; and notwithstanding a hint from the Blandish faction, that if beaten the Doctor would certainly resign his office in the institution, I was successful beyond my hopes. We elected the eleven little Bricks upon our committee, and took them about with us upon our canvas--a procession singularly imposing and irresistible. Nothing could equal the popular enthusiasm; and the greatest possible effect was created wherever they appeared, for we kept them all without their dinners up till bed-time, to make them cry; which is the only method of melting the public heart, since a constant drop, we are told, will wear away a stone. The eldest of the Bricks, a boy, had a turn for spouting; and we made him address the people from the window of the Vicar's Head, by reciting "My name is Norval," which he had heard done by some strolling-players. This was amazingly successful; but unfortunately the mob consisted chiefly of non-electors, for it was only the subscribers to the institution who had the privilege of voting. Voters, therefore, I made in scores, simply by paying their subscriptions for them. As fast as Blandish could extract promises from the old subscribers, I produced new ones; the list of qualified electors exceeded anything ever heard of in the annals of benevolence. I spare you the speech I made at the nomination of candidates; merely remarking, that I wasn't aware there was so much virtue in woman as I discovered in the widow, and that I never knew there were half so many charms and graces in infancy, as I detected in her eleven little angels--who all stood in a heartrending row upon the hustings, crying lustily, for they had not been allowed a bit of breakfast on that important occasion. The effect was seen as the voting proceeded; the compassionate rushed to the poll and voted for Bricks, I may say, _like_ bricks. Still our opponents mustered strongly, and I was compelled to make a good many people benevolent that morning who had never spent a shilling in charity in their lives. The numbers for a considerable time were pretty nearly balanced; the excitement grew more intense, the shouts of "Vote for Bricks and Babbies," grew more vehement as the day advanced; till towards the close of the poll, the Blandish faction appeared a little a-head of us, but at last they were exhausted; they had polled their last Samaritan--the Doctor himself had given his vote--while I had purposely reserved mine. Now, mine alone was sufficient to win; mine alone would decide the contest in the widow's favour; for, having trebled my usual subscription, I had a right to six votes, and six would give us just a majority of one. With a heart swelling with conscious triumph, exulting in the cause of charity and the defeat of our factious adversaries, I walked up to the ballot-box (we voted by ballot), and there what do you think occurred? Directing a haughty look to the Doctor's generally red face, now pale with rage, I was not sufficiently cautious in distinguishing between the Y for "Yes," and the N for "No," painted on the front of the balloting-machine; and inconsiderately turning my hand to the left instead of the right, I dropped the six cork marbles into the enemy's box--hang me, if I didn't vote against Widow Bricks. Dr. Blandish danced for joy, and I really thought he never would stand still again. Not another shilling will his infirmary get from me. If Crooksley were to return four members to Parliament, _I_ wouldn't be one of them. FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 4: Our respectable correspondent must have visited the English Opera in his younger days, or else Charles Mathews must have paid a visit to Crooksley. He must also have seen the printed addresses circulated lately in Deptford during a contest for the office of gravedigger, where the proceedings were as outrageous as these that he describes.] THE CENSUS. Important days to all householders in the United Kingdom, were Sunday and Monday, the 6th and 7th ult., and especially perplexing to those whose ideas of reading and writing were at all circumscribed. Nor was the discomfort confined to the said illuminated members of society. Ladies of a very certain age bridled up at being obliged to tell the number of summers that had passed over their heads: notwithstanding the loop-hole of the "five years" which the gallantry of the commissioners allowed them. Elderly gentlemen also, who wore dark wigs that hid those auricular tell-tales of the _ci-devant jeune homme_, the ears, inwardly execrated the system of exposure to which the census paper gave rise, and willingly ran the risk of a fine "not more than five pounds, nor less than forty shillings," rather than be classed as old bachelors. From returns into which the commissioners have allowed us to peep, it appears that of the middle-aged population of these kingdoms, one in three has grown five years younger since the date of the last census; one in seven two years younger; one in twelve remains of the same age; one in thirty-eight, is five years older than at the period referred to; and one in five hundred and sixty has attained the full age that might have been anticipated from the lapse of years. We believe it has been distinctly ascertained by these returns that the highest age among the unmarried ladies in this country is twenty-nine--the average age is twenty-one and seven-eighths. The widows willing to marry again, are mostly quite juvenile; and it is a remarkable fact that many are younger now, as widows, than they appear to be in the previous return as wives. Indeed the effect of the whole calculation is to show, perhaps in compliment to our young Queen, that her subjects are the most decidedly juvenile people in Christendom. Nor was the designation of the respective professions and callings of our fellow-countrymen a task of less difficulty. Commonplace and even plebeian, as is the simple question "Who are you?" widely as the interrogation was diffused a short time back by the _gamins_ of London, it is a query we opine, in common with the cool audacious Mr. Dazzle, that would puzzle half the world to answer properly. Some are all profession--others are not any. Thousands live by their wits--thousands more by the total absence of them; many whom the world gives credit to for working hard in an industrious _état_ for their income, privately lead the lives of gentlemen; and many gentlemen whom we envy on account of their ostensible otiose existence, labour perchance in secret much harder than ourselves. Numbers would shrink if their employment was known, and numbers more would be extremely indignant if any other than their own was assigned to them. The schedule stated that the professions of wives, or sons and daughters, living with and assisting their parents, needed not to be inserted. There was no mention at all made of the professions of faithless lovers, election candidates, and false friends; probably these were imagined to be of so little value as to be utterly beneath notice. But although the commissioners were pleasantly minute and clear in their instructions for filling up their circulars, they will still be wide away from the real statistics of the population, when all the bills are returned and the totals properly added. What industrious enumerator, we would ask, did, with praiseworthy indefatigability, leave a schedule at the temporary habitations of the thousand individuals who on the Monday in question were located upon Ascot Heath, in anticipation of the approaching races? Who dared to penetrate into the mysteries of the yellow caravans there collected, or invade the Bohemian seclusion of the tilted hovels? What account was taken of the roadside tent-holders, and the number of the families of these real "potwallopers?" Is the following paper relating to these people, which has fallen into our hands, the mislaid document of a careless enumerator of the Sunning-hill district, or is it an attempt to play upon our credulity: (COPY.) Name, (if any) of the House, or of the Village or } Caravan, No. 937,654. Hamlet in which it stands. } Name of the Street or other part of the Town, (if in } Winkfield Lane. a Town), and No. of the House. } ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+--------- Name and | | |Of what |If born |If born surname of each| Age | | Profession, | in the | in person who | of | Age | Trade, or | County. |Ireland, abode or slept | Males.| of | Employment, | | in this House | | Females.| or if of | |&c. on the night | | | Independent | | of June 6. | | | means. | | ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+--------- Bill Soames | 45 | |Shoman. | No |don't Kno | | | | | Mary Soames | | 38 |Wife--vurks | No | No | | | the barrul | | | | | horgan outside| | Gipsy Mike |not | |None. | No |No veres | Nown | | | | pertickler Phelim Conolly | 35 | |Black vild |not | never Knowd | | | ingian. | sartin | Sarah Cooper | | 24 |tellin off | No | | | | fortuns. | | Young Chubby a | 2 | |ired fur the |St. Giles's| babby | | | Races. | | Brummagim Harry | 40 | |keeps a | Yes | | | | Thimble-rig. | | ----------------+-------+---------+--------------+---------+--------- But there were many, many others, who were excluded from the privilege of registering their names amongst the population of their country. The unfortunate individuals who slept throughout the night in the stony precincts of the police-office lock-up cells, were deprived of this honour. Even admitting that the police had received instructions to take down the names of the stray-flocks under their charge, the ends of the commissioners were still defeated, for it was not probable that the Hon. Clarence Piercefield, who had kicked the head waiter at the Cider-cellars, for telling him not to join in the glees so loudly--who had thrashed the cabman in Holborn--who had climbed up behind King Charles at Charing-cross, and who, finally, upon being pulled down again by the police and taken into custody, had given his name as Thomas Brown,--it was not probable, we repeat, that this honourable gentleman would see any occasion to alter the name in the schedule, or recant his alleged profession of "medical student." His rightful appellation found no place in the paper, no more than the hundreds who slept out altogether that night, from the wretched, shivering, poverty-stricken occupiers of the embryo coal-cellars of future houses in the neighbourhood of railway _termini_, to the tipsy gentleman who tumbled by mistake into a large basket of turnip-tops and onions in Covent Garden-market, and slept there until morning, dreaming that he was the inhabitant of an Eastern paradise, with _houris_ pelting roses at him. Even the ill-used Mr. Ferguson, whom everybody has heard of, but nobody knows, failing in all his attempts to procure a lodging for the night, found no place in the strictly-worded schedule. The real name of Mr. Ferguson is Legion, yet he found a lodging nowhere. And many returns of the erratic youth of respectable families must prove, that their very fathers did not know they were out, to say nothing of their mothers: on the other hand, probably many more would be found wanting in the real numbers, were circumstances narrowly inquired into. It is fortunate for the correctness of the statistics that Sunday was the day fixed upon for enumerating the population. Had it been any other, the numbers who _slept in the house_ would have materially swelled the lists. The House of Commons might have furnished an imposing array of names every night in the week to begin with. The various literary institutions and scientific meetings of the metropolis, on their respective nights, would not have been behind hand; and even the theatres, might have sent in a tolerably fair muster-roll of slumberers, according to the nature of their performances. We presume that the guards of mail-coaches, drovers who were going to the Monday's markets, watchmen of houses, newly-buried relations, and medical men attending Poor Law Unions, will be allowed a future opportunity of registering their names; for none of these individuals were ever known--at least we believe not--to sleep or abide one night in their houses. Are these hardworking and useful classes of society to be accounted as nothing--to be placed in a scale even beneath "persons sleeping over a stable or outhouse," who, although not worthy to be inserted along with their betters in the schedule, are, at all events allowed a paper to themselves? The care that arranged the manner of enumerating the population ought to have put forward plans for taking the census of the always-out-of-doors portion of the English on the night in question, hackney-coachmen included; and a space might, at the same time, have been appropriated in the schedule for "those who were not at home, but ought to have been." We will not dwell upon the material difference this important feature would have made to the calculations in many points. We give the commissioners a peep at the fallacy of their plans, and we leave it to them to remedy it. All we have to add, in conclusion is, that we sent in our own name according to the prescribed ordinance, but it was not ROCKET. [Illustration] LOVE'S MASQUERADING. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. I. Love never less surprises Than when his tricks are tried; In vain are all disguises, Himself he cannot hide. He came, the Masquerader, To conscious Kate, one day, Attempting to persuade her; He then was--far away! "Ah Love!" she cried, unfearing, "Take any shape you will, Strange, distant, or endearing, This heart would know you still." II. Then Love came clad like Sorrow; His robe was dark as night; But like a golden morrow, Flash'd forth his forehead's light; She knew him, as with languor He play'd the wounded dove: Then fierce he frown'd--'twas Anger! But still she knew 'twas Love! III. Then came he wreathed like Pleasure; In vain he cried, "Rejoice!" And sang a laughing measure-- She knew him, by his voice. He tuned his tongue to railing, Performing Envy's task; His scowl was unavailing, She saw him--through his mask. IV. Like cloak'd Revenge then stealing, With poniard bare he came, His limbs, his looks, concealing-- Yet still he seem'd the same. Then he, his thoughts dissembling, With Jealousy's wild air, Stood raging, watching, trembling,-- Yet Love alone stood there. V. Next came he garb'd like Malice; Yet wore his cheek the rose, No poison crowns his chalice, With wine it overflows. And then as Joy, arrayed in Rare colours from above; He failed again--the maiden In Joy saw only Love! VI. Then casting off his splendour, He took black Hatred's guise; But all his tones were tender, She knew him--by his eyes. In all he fail'd; when glancing Like Fear, afraid to stir; And when like Hope, half-dancing-- For Hope was Love to her. "In vain," she cried, "your powers, Take any shape you may; Are hearts less wise than flowers, That know the night from day?" FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER III. A rigid search after Mr. Heartwell was instituted under the superintendence of two of the most efficient officers of the Bow Street establishment. The evidence given by the coachman was proved to be strictly correct, except that a small portion of time was unaccounted for between the period of his having--as he stated--set the lieutenant down in Ormond Street, and his arrival at the coach-stand in Covent Garden, which according to the deposition of the waterman was much later than would have been required to traverse the distance between the two places. But Simpson's explanation was that, having by request driven his fare very quick to Ormond Street, he merely walked his horses to Charles Street in order to cool them. Nothing whatever having been elicited that day which was calculated to throw any light on the mysterious affair, Mr. Brady with his witnesses appeared before Mr. Bond on the following morning at the time appointed, when the officers made their reports, and were instructed to persevere. The Bank Agent deposed that he had paid over to the lieutenant at the office of Mr. Brady, and in the presence of the lawyer and his clerk, a thousand guineas in gold, and bank-notes to the amount of fourteen thousand pounds, besides securities and deeds, relating to property supposed to be of considerable value in the East Indies, all which had belonged to the lieutenant's uncle, who had died without issue and intestate: he produced the receipt for the charge he had delivered, and stated that he had earnestly advised the lieutenant to deposit the whole in the hands of his professional man to invest for him to the best advantage; but though Mr. Heartwell perfectly assented to the propriety of such a step, yet he expressed himself so desirous of displaying his newly acquired fortune to his wife, that as a matter of course he (the agent) offered no further argument against it. Shipkins, the clerk, corroborated the statement of Mr. Brady; but in addition, mentioned that the lieutenant had declared that it was his intention to resign his appointment to the seventy-four for the purpose of remaining at home with his family, but that it would be necessary for him in the first instance to visit Portsmouth. The officers used their utmost vigilance, and the Secretary of State offered a large reward to any one who could render information of the fate of the missing officer. Ben was despatched to Portsmouth to make inquiry whether his master had been seen in that neighbourhood, or on board the ship; but no clue was obtained. Days--weeks--months passed away, and Mrs. Heartwell experienced an unmitigated state of anxiety and suspense. Yet though doubts prevailed that she should never behold him again, she determined never to clothe herself in the semblance of mourning till she had proof that he was dead. Young Frank partook of the feelings of his mother; but the elasticity of boyhood does not long retain the acuteness of sorrow; the delightful changes which Nature is constantly presenting to the ardency of youth and "All is beautiful, for all is new," superseded the grief which preys upon more advanced age, when the heart knoweth its own bitterness; and whilst the mother was pining and weeping over her heavy affliction, Frank forgot in the joys of amusement that there was anything like unhappiness in the world. He was a bold, free-hearted, jovial lad, who loved to frolic over the gardens and grounds round the British Museum. Nor was Ben inactive in either promoting the mirthful indulgences of the lad, although there might be a little mischief in progress, or seeing that fair-play was exercised when pugnacity or wrong led to pugilistic encounters. It is true that the fond parent in her solicitude would expostulate, and on some occasions reprove; but the ready acknowledgment of error which Frank always made when in the wrong, and the argument of Ben, "Bless you, my lady, you can't never go for to rig out an ould figure-head upon young shoulders--besides, what's the odds, so as you're happy?" soon produced reconciliation and pardon. It has been said "Sweet are the uses of adversity;" but it is hard to contemplate the approach of poverty with its train of evils that no mortal influence can subdue; and such was the case with Mrs. Heartwell. Daily she saw her resources decreasing--the pay of the lieutenant was stopped; she could not claim her widow's pension, for she had no proof of her husband's death; there were no relations to whom she could apply in her distress for assistance or counsel. Mr. Brady had sent in a heavy bill for law business, and pressed for payment; difficulties in short accumulated on all sides. One, and only one, of her former associates continued to visit her; and this was an elderly man of unattractive manners, who claimed a distant relationship. He seldom spoke but when addressed; and his remarks were generally of a caustic and misanthropic cast, rendering him an object not only of dislike to many, but of fear to some. He was poor, but how he lived no one knew; and yet on more than one occasion he had spoken of important affairs even in the state, that displayed a tolerably accurate knowledge of persons and things far above his station in society: in short, he was a mystery that set conjecture at defiance. Such was Mr. Unity Peach; in age between fifty and sixty; a large round face, with a great bushy wig upon his head, and one eye covered over with a black patch, the other grey and cold without expression; he was stout made, short, and with limbs like a giant, though he complained of feebleness and debility. He seldom uttered one word of cheering kindness, yet when asked for his advice he would give it; and it was seldom known to fail in its beneficial results. To Frank and the seaman he was an object of aversion that they did not care at all times to conceal; yet, with a perverseness that seemed congenial to his character, if there was any individual to whom the old man could be attached, it was Ben Brailsford. "You are hurrying on to ruin," said Mr. Unity Peach one day, in reply to a question from Mrs. Heartwell; "large house--lazy sailor--mischievous boy." "But I would willingly quit the house, sir," returned the lady, "and strive by some means or other to provide for myself and child." "Let lodgings--keep a school--make the boy a shoemaker--send that Jack Tar to sea," was the response. "I have hitherto been guided in my conduct, Mr. Peach, by what I have supposed would be satisfactory to my husband could he witness my actions," replied the lady; "and yet--oh yes, I see there is no other resource, though I should prefer removing from this neighbourhood." "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," quoted the old man; "Go on and starve--no help for it." "I wish I had some friend to counsel me," exclaimed the afflicted woman, as the tears gushed from her eyes. "Bah!--nonsense!--friends, indeed! Won't take counsel--good morning;" and Mr. Unity arose to depart. "I meant no reflections upon you, Mr. Peach," returned the lady. "You have at times advised me, and well too--but indeed, sir, your harshness----" "I know it,--I know it," bitterly replied the old man, interrupting her, whilst a malicious grin played upon his swarthy countenance; "you hate me--you all hate me." "You do me great injustice to suppose such a thing," responded Mrs. Heartwell, mildly; "I would wish to entertain respect and esteem----" "Bah! folly!" uttered Mr. Unity, preventing the concluding remarks of the lady. "No such things in the world as respect, esteem--all deceit." "I have a better opinion of my fellow-creatures----" "Better opinion!" interrupted the old man, with a taunting sneer. "Yes--right--husband murdered--lawyer threatening--abandoned in trouble--sinking in poverty--eat up with pride--idle boy--saucy sailor--fellow-creatures indeed!" At this moment Ben entered, and though deference and respect for his mistress kept him silent, yet the clenching of his fist and the indignation of his look plainly evidenced that he would, if he durst, have given Mr. Unity Peach a thrashing. Nor did the old man seem insensible to what was passing in the worthy seaman's mind, for he turned upon him a glance of contempt and defiance that but ill accorded with the angular inclination of his body, which betokened weakness and decrepitude. Mrs. Heartwell, endeavouring to suppress her agitation, turned with a look of inquiry to Ben. "Why, my lady, I don't perticklarly want anything," replied the seaman somewhat confusedly, as he fidgetted about the room in his accustomed way when he had any communication of importance to make. "Has anything occurred?" asked the lady with impatience. "Bless you, my lady," ejaculated Ben, whilst a flush spread over his cheeks, and a tear stood trembling in his eye; "I ounly wish I was rouling in gould and I'd soon capsize the lubbers; but ounly speak the word and I'll do it now, though the unconscionable scamps have boarded us in the smoke." "Of whom are you speaking?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell, as a thrill of sickly apprehension passed through her heart. But the seaman had not time to answer before the door of the room was opened, and in walked a corpulent but athletic man, whose very appearance announced his calling to be that of a sheriff's officer; whilst close behind him came his assistant, though he did not venture beyond the door-way. "Werry sorry, ma'am--werry sorry," said the officer, producing a writ of execution, "I al'ays likes to be civil to ladies, but must do my dooty you know--mustn't I, sir?" and he turned to Mr. Unity Peach, who, bent down and leaning heavily on his stick, which he seemed to grasp convulsively, nodded assent. "What is all this?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell, looking first at the officer and then at Mr. Peach, and then at Ben, who, though it was the height of summer, had got hold of the poker, and was busily stirring the white paper shavings that ornamented the grate. "Oh, it's not werry much, ma'am," replied the officer, displaying the official document; "it's only a writ as I've got to sarve, and in course must trespass upon your family for board and lodging till the matter's settled--that's all." "I do not understand it, Mr. Peach," said the distressed lady; "pray explain it to me." "Bailiff!" replied the old man, pointing to the officer in an introductory manner; "come to seize furniture--some of your fellow creatures:" and then, mimicking the manners of the official, he wound up with the same exclamation--"that's all." "That's all, ay, and enough too!" mumbled Ben as he made the room echo with rattling the poker in the grate; "I ounly wish my lady 'ud give the word, I'm blessed if it should be all; I'd larn 'em to seize furniture; and it arn't best for their health that they clap a flipper upon it whilst I'm here." "Go to sea," muttered Mr. Unity Peach. "Work for your living--don't lazy away your time here!" "I tell you what it is, ould genelman," exclaimed Ben, all the feelings of the tar aroused within his breast. "You're an oncantankerous scamp with your spiteful tongue. But bless you, my lady, ounly say the word and I'll clear the decks of the whole boiling of 'em afore you can look round you;" and the seaman flourished the poker in a menacing attitude at the officer and his follower, but the next instant he felt his arm restrained as if it had been fixed in the gripe of a blacksmith's vice, and by his side stood Mr. Unity Peach. "Put that poker down," said the old man in a tone of command as he grasped the seaman's wrist; "obey the laws." "All werry right, sir," uttered the sheriff's officer; "not as I'm afear'd of being attackted, but arter all there's nothing like obeying the law, and it shows as you're a man of sense. I must do my dooty, howsomever unpleasant. There's the writ, ma'am." "At whose suit?" demanded Mr. Peach, who quietly took the weapon from Ben's hand, and replaced it within the fender. "At the suit of Muster Jocelyn Brady," replied the officer, "attorney-at-law, Lincoln's Inn. Debt and costs one hundred and seventeen pounds, six shillings, and eightpence." "The villain!" uttered a voice, half suppressed, from some part of the room, but from whom it proceeded it would have been difficult to say. Poor Mrs. Heartwell was almost overwhelmed, and Frank coming in from school and staring wildly at the spectacle, added to her distress. On seeing his mother's tears, he threw his arms round her neck and kissed her; and then, turning round with flushed cheeks and a fierceness that he seldom manifested, demanded of the officer "what business he had there?" This Mr. Peach explained in as few words as possible, but not without instilling venom into what he did say, to the great anger of Ben, and the increased dislike of the boy. But there was no avoiding the instrument of the law, nor any means to get rid of its agent. The execution was served, and the bailiff remained in charge. The almost heart-broken Mrs. Heartwell waited upon the lawyer, but he refused to see her; the furniture was sold; and it racked her heart to part with things which time and circumstances had endeared to her; and now she, who had been within a few minutes of attaining affluence, was reduced to the verge of destitution. A small, ready-furnished apartment received the mourner and her son; but her money was gone, she knew no one to whom she could apply. Ben had expended every shilling that he possessed; but the worthy fellow would not desert his mistress; he got employment in a rigging gang to fit out East Indiamen, and, reserving a bare subsistence for himself, he devoted all that he could spare to the use of Frank and his mother. Nor was this all; for after his hours of labour were over in the week days, and each Sunday, he was constant in his attendance, to perform every kind office that he could without failing in the respect he had ever manifested towards his mistress. Nor did Mr. Peach forsake the afflicted lady, though his visits were not so frequent as before; and he was incessant in his complaints of bad health, decaying strength, and growing poverty. "Mrs. Heartwell procured needlework, and toiled day and night to keep Frank at school, and to obtain him food and clothes." Nor could she even have done this but through the generosity of some unknown friend, who regularly transmitted her thirty shillings a month without note or comment. She believed her benefactor to be a kind and wealthy lady who had formerly taken an interest in her welfare; but it was evident the donor did not wish to be openly known. Thus progressed another twelve months. Ben and Frank were inseparable companions as often as they could be together; and though Mr. Peach was constantly persuading his mother to bind the lad apprentice to a shoemaker, he still continued improving in his education, and the hard-toiling seaman often went without indulgences himself that he might secretly supply his young friend with pocket-money. At length to her great astonishment, Mrs. Heartwell received by post under a blank cover a note of the Bank of England for £100. Tears of joyous gratitude filled her eyes. The following day was devoted to recreation--the first she had known since the loss of her husband. And now came the consideration as to the best mode of employing the gift to the most advantageous use. At first the feelings of the mother directed her sole attention to young Frank, and she thought of appropriating a large portion to putting him out in the world; but Mr. Peach, who was consulted on all important occasions, advised her to take a respectable house, furnish apartments, and let them to a respectable tenant: nor did he forget to insist upon his usual proposition of making Frank a cordwainer. In every particular, save the last, the advice was followed. CHAPTER IV. Never was there a more instructive lesson issued to the nations of the earth than that which marked the origin, progress, and termination of the French Revolution, with all its concomitant circumstances and final results. England with free institutions, and increasing in population, industry, and commerce, had set a bright example of what may be achieved under constitutional means; and as the English were ardent lovers of liberty, it cannot be supposed that they were indifferent to its extension on the Continent. Nor were they inactive at home; the changes in France had caused a feverish excitement amongst the working classes here, which interested traders in politics were not slow in turning to their own advantage. In order to counteract and defeat the evil machinations of such men, the government took into pay a number of individuals to act as spies in the camp of the disaffected; and as their wages depended upon the continuance of commotion, it very naturally followed that in numerous cases they were the secret promoters of agitation. But the political movement was not confined exclusively to the lower ranks in life; many of the middle grade had joined in it, and amongst the active disseminators of revolutionary principles was Mr. Jocelyn Brady. But he moved in an elevated sphere, and was looked upon and treated with confidence by his party, both high and low. His legal practice was reported to be extensive, and he was said to be possessed of considerable property. He had both a town and a country residence, and he gave excellent dinners. But he was unrelenting in his avarice, vindictive when offended. The principal associate of Mr. Brady in most of his political transactions was a Mr. Acteon Shaft, an acute intelligent man, whose grey hairs proclaimed him to be of an advanced age; and to him the lawyer was greatly indebted for much of the information and knowledge he obtained. Mr. Shaft had travelled far, and had visited foreign courts, and though his manners were rather uncouth, yet there was a charm in his conversation that rendered his society courted by men of talent. He was an ardent lover of rational liberty, and his generosity was the theme of universal praise. Why two men so opposite in temper and disposition should form companionship must remain amongst those anomalies which every day's experience displays; even the pure metal requires a base alloy before it can be converted into sterling coin. But to return to Mrs. Heartwell, who had once more a comfortable residence, and devoted herself in every way to the improvement of her son. Frank, on his part, was most affectionately attached to his mother, whom he revered with an intensity of feeling that was truly gratifying to her heart, and she was pleased to see that he evinced a kindly and generous feeling towards his fellow-creatures. He was mirthful, but inoffensive, mild and forbearing, except when aroused by severe injury to himself or others, and then his rage was uncontrollable. The first lodger that occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments was a Monsieur Polverel, a French deputy, who under the specious pretext of visiting and studying the institutions of England, availed himself of the opportunity to disseminate the doctrines of "liberty and equality;" nor was he long in finding an enlarged circle of congenial spirits--members of revolutionary clubs and corresponding societies, who, though advocating "equality," took especial care that no one below a certain rank should be admitted to their meetings; and the minister of liberty from France, Monsieur Polverel, finding that his black servant was accustomed to go out during his absence, actually locked him up in his room whenever he himself went in an evening to enjoy festivity amongst his friends, and to preach up the blessings of freedom. Ben and Frank, however, could not reconcile such tyranny to their minds, and a duplicate key being procured, the door was speedily thrown open, and forth issued Sambo to join in their amusements, and many hours did the youth listen to the negro's narratives of his native place--Port au Prince, in San Domingo--but care was always taken that he was again placed in confinement before the time of his master's return. Monsieur Polverel was one of those finicking, all legs-and-wings sort of Frenchmen who when in conversation throw themselves into attitudes not inaptly resembling the wooden harlequins of children whose members are put into motion by pulling a string, only that his body was more elongated and had something of the greyhound build; his head was very large, and when he stood erect he looked like a beadle's staff with a globe on the top; in fact, it would have been no difficult task to have doubled him up like a two-foot rule, or to have put his body between his legs like a clasp knife. Although a leveller, and affecting to despise distinctions, his clothes were richly ornamented and his fingers were brilliant with costly rings. When he passed an evening at home without company, he generally contrived to get Frank and Ben, and the negro into his room, where, in broken English, he propounded to them the doctrines of republicanism. Sometimes Mr. Peach was admitted, and the discussions, whilst they afforded mirth to Frank, and offence to the seaman, tended to open the understanding of the youth to subjects to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Frank had now passed his thirteenth year. His predilection was for the sea; but his mother, who still had numerous difficulties to contend against, and looked upon her child as her best hope and encouragement, endeavoured by earnest persuasion to prevail upon him to settle on shore. In this she was supported by Mr. Peach; but the lad's longings could not be overcome, though he was deterred from proclaiming them, and thus balancing between affection for his parent and the desire to become a sailor, he remained undetermined and inactive. It was about this time that, to the great regret of Mrs. Heartwell, and the almost inconsolable grief of her son, Ben Brailsford was pressed; and disdaining to be anything but a volunteer in the service of his king and country, he entered for a ship-of-the line, then commanded by the Honourable Keith Elphinstone (afterwards, Lord Keith). He wrote to inform them of this event, hoped that he should make prize-money--wished Frank was with him on the quarter-deck as an officer--expressed sorrow at parting with them, but wound up all with his old expletive--"But what's the odds, so as you're happy?" The youth fretted, and almost sickened at the loss of his old and faithful associate; he neglected his studies, became melancholy and restless, and adhered closer to Monsieur Polverel, so as to be noticed by a distinguished visitor to the deputy, no other than the Duke of Orleans, who had been prevailed upon to visit London, by Lafayette, in order to get him out of the way of doing mischief. Frank became a great favourite with the Duke, who treated him with much kindness, and made Mrs. Heartwell a very handsome present to assist in promoting the lad's welfare; and ultimately offered to take him to Paris and provide for him; but this was declined--the mother could not part with her child. The beheading of the King of France excited a general feeling of horror and indignation throughout England. War was declared. The utmost activity prevailed in the dockyards; and a naval armament was put in motion. The aristocracy, the clergy, the corporate bodies, the landed proprietors, the merchants, the bankers, became alarmed, and took the lead in the re-action that ensued. The Sectarians looked upon the French as infidels, and hailed the approach of war as the mighty engine which was to restore religion and morality. In this state of things the situation of Monsieur Polverel was not of the most pleasant description. He was well known to the French emigrants who crowded the metropolis; and on his returning one afternoon from a republican party, he was pointed out as a disseminator of those principles which had compelled them to abandon their country. A crowd collected, who vented their abhorrence in groans and hisses. He quickened his pace, but his pursuers increased as they progressed, till the deputy was urgently persuaded to run, by hearing the clattering of stones along the pavement, and feeling more than one or two hard blows on his back. Now it was that the length of his legs rendered him good service, and a chase commenced that caused roars of laughter to the spectators, who clapped their hands and shouted with delight. On reaching Mrs. Heartwell's he knocked and rung violently, but Sambo was locked up, and the maid-servant being busy, was in no great hurry to let him in. Frank, however, had been looking out at the window, and instantly suspecting the cause of the uproar, he ran and opened the door, and the Frenchman had just time to enter as his assailants were ascending the steps. It was at first feared that they would attack the house, but on being assured that Monsieur Polverel had taken his departure by the back way, the mob again set out in pursuit, but the deputy distanced them; for without waiting for bag or baggage, he hurried to Dover as fast as a chaise-and-four could convey him, and at this latter place he received a no very gentle intimation that his presence on British ground could be entirely dispensed with; and elated was Monsieur Polverel when he once more found himself within the gates of Calais. Nothing could exceed the joy of Sambo at his master's departure--the door was no longer locked upon him--he was free. Since Ben's departure Frank had greatly attached himself to the negro, whose good humour and constant willingness to oblige rendered him a favourite in the house. Other lodgers came to Mrs. Heartwell's; and as Sambo had become useful, his services were retained. Frank continued at school for a few months longer, when a new scene opened before him. He had heard of a seventy-four to be launched at Deptford, and never having witnessed a ship-launch, he went, accompanied by Sambo, to see it. But the press-gangs were abroad, and they both fell into their hands; for such was, at that time, the demand for men and lads to complete the complements of the ships of war, that respectable shopkeepers, who had formerly been to sea, were impressed at their own doors, and youths of "gentle blood" forced away by the gangs if found near the water-side. Sambo would have resisted when he saw that Frank was seized, but the youth saw how unavailing it would be, and desired him to desist. He told the officer that he was the son of a lieutenant in the navy, and requested to be allowed to return to his home; but this was positively refused. He then entreated that some one might be sent to apprise his mother of his detention, and the officer promised that it should be done, and the lad, who suffered most on his parent's account, became more appeased, till on being put on board the Tender, off the Tower, a spectacle presented itself that filled his very soul with disgust. The receiving-ship was an old sloop of war, and in her hold were not less than three hundred human beings crowded together on the shingle ballast, without a single seat except the bundles which some few possessed, and sat upon for safe protection. Here were crowded together seamen and landsmen, pickpockets, the refuse of the streets, and shabby-genteel gentlemen. Many a countenance was marked by sorrow, but the principal portion was composed of wild, reckless, and even lawless, men. The gratings were over the hatchways, above which sentinels were placed, and the atmosphere in the hold was hot and fetid. Several of the impressed men were in a state of intoxication, which produced repeated quarrels; and though there was scarcely room to move, blows were exchanged, and heavy falls upon the shingle or against the timbers in the side caused swollen and blackened eyes, and severe contusions. Some had received cuts and injuries in their contest with the gangs, and lacerated faces presented a hideous and sickening spectacle. There was but little light during the day; but when night arrived, only a solitary lantern shed its feeble rays, and the prowling thieves commenced their work of plunder upon their unfortunate fellow-captives. Resistance was vain; cries of distress arose, but they were quickly subdued; two or three held down the victim whilst his pockets were rifled: the means of obtaining liquor were thus in the power of the abandoned; nor was it scantily, though stealthily supplied; and drunkenness increased the disorder that prevailed till a general fight took place, which was only quelled by an armed party of seamen being sent down to preserve order. [Illustration: Frank and Sambo, attacked by Ruffians, in the hold of the Tender.] Horrible, indeed, was that night to poor Frank. To sleep was impossible. The noise was almost deafening; and his heart sickened at the oaths and imprecations he was compelled to hear. A miscreant had forcibly grappled with him and demanded his money; but Sambo, who had patiently borne with the jokes and the taunts, and even the mischievous pranks of his fellow-captives, would not endure this; he manfully resisted, exclaiming, "Me young massa good massa for me! Ye nebber for do him harm while Sambo here!" Nor did the youth tamely yield to the plunderers: his spirit was aroused, and placing himself in attitude, he not only repelled the attack, but with determined resolution he stood up to his assailants, whilst the negro dealt out sturdy blows and kept them in check. One fellow was struck down, but another immediately came on, whom Frank met with vigorous boldness; and thanks to the instructions of Ben, his opponent found that he had both courage and science to contend against; and having no love for fighting, and seeing Sambo come to the assistance of his young master, he drew back. But the thieves commenced another desperate attack. One of them rushed in and seized Frank by the throat; another gathered up a handful of shingle to throw in his face; whilst a third drew a large knife, and laying hold of the youth's long hair, was about to inflict a deadly wound, when a stout old man-of-war's man, who had been leaning against the mast, suddenly seized the cowardly rascal by the wrist, and twisting his arm round so as nearly to throw him on his back, exclaimed, "Avast there, you lubber! do you call that English fashion? bright blades again a countryman's fist? drop the knife, and let the lad alone--drop it, I say!" and another twist compelled the fellow to obey. The seaman gave him a kick in the stern that sent him flying away amongst the crowd, and then springing to Frank's rescue, the robbers were driven off. "What cheer, what cheer, my lad, eh?" said the tar, taking the youth's hand; "you tackled to 'em bravely, the picarooning vagabones. But here, keep under my lee, and no soul fore and aft shall mislest you. Have you ever been to sea?" "No," returned Frank, placing himself by the side of the seaman, "I have never been to sea, but I am the son of a sailor; my father was a lieutenant in the navy." "Indeed!" said the tar, "and pray what name did he hail by?--the son of a British officer ought to have better usage." Frank felt the justice of the latter remark, but he did not allude to it, and merely replied, "His name was Heartwell." "What?" exclaimed the seaman, looking earnestly in the youth's face, "Heartwell,--Muster Frank Heartwell as was in the ould Robust?" "Yes, he was the senior lieutenant of the Robust," responded the youth, who had through Ben's means made himself acquainted with his father's history. "Then I sailed with him," rejoined the tar, "and a better officer never had charge of a quarter-deck. And what's become of him, my boy?" The youth briefly related the circumstances of his father's disappearance, and a conversation ensued, the seaman fully performing his promise to preserve Frank from further molestation; he also praised the negro for standing up for his young master, and Sambo remarked, "Ah Massa Frank, dis no laand o' liberty board a ship." Still Frank's wretchedness was great; he reflected on the delightful dictures of enjoyment from universal freedom and equality which Monsieur Polverel had powerfully delineated, and he contrasted them with the scene before him, where the defenders of their country were treated worse than brutes by the hand of power. It is probable that he would have sunk under the infliction, but the hope that he cherished of seeing his mother come to his rescue. Yet even that hope was mingled with many misgivings, lest the officer should not have communicated with her, and he might be sent away without being able to acquaint her where he was. The morning came, a cutter was hauled alongside the Tender, and Frank and Sambo, with about one hundred and fifty others, were put on board; her sails were set, and with a fair breeze she was soon gliding down the river. But Frank, though aware that they were on the move, could see nothing of the proceedings; the impressed men were all confined in the hold, and so crowded together that to sit down was impossible. At length they reached the Nore, and the impressed hands were transferred to a gun-brig that immediately got under-weigh for the Downs. Confinement was now at an end, the men were permitted to be on deck, and the refreshing breeze came delightful to the wearied frame of the youth. Provisions were also served out, and by the time they had reached their first destination he had in a great measure recovered his proper tone. But the brig did not anchor here; a signal was made for her to proceed to Plymouth, and without delay she made sail through the Straits of Dover. The noble white cliffs and the beautiful scenery of the coast delighted Frank. The sun sparkled upon the waves of the blue ocean, and threw its golden gleams upon the fertile land of his nativity, whose lofty barriers rose in grandeur to defend its shores, and whose "wooden walls" floated in pride to protect its commerce. The horizon was studded with the white sails of distant vessels, and the ships as they approached or passed, hoisting their ensigns, gave a bright break in the picture. Still the thoughts of his mother's uneasiness operated on Frank's heart, and he determined to write to her as soon as they got to Plymouth; but even this satisfaction was denied to him, for when abreast of Torbay a seventy-four came out and received a draft of hands from the brig, amongst whom was the disappointed lad and the negro, and without communicating with the shore she spread her canvas for the Mediterranean. This preyed upon the lad's mind, but no time was allowed him to indulge in dejection; he was ordered to go to the purser's steward and get supplied with sailor's apparel, which having dressed himself in, he was mustered before the first lieutenant, who questioned him as to his abilities in order to give him a station. Frank at once told him he was the son of an officer, and had never been to sea before; he named his father, and as the circumstances of his disappearance were pretty well known, Mr. Evans not only took the lad by the hand, but declared himself an old friend and messmate of Mr. Heartwell's, and the emotion he evinced plainly indicated what his feelings towards him were. He was requested to stand on one side till the muster was over, when the lieutenant introduced him to the captain, a noble and generous-minded seaman, who listened with attention and commiseration to Frank's narrative, inquired whether he wished to continue in the service, and finding the lad was desirous to do so he sent for the clerk, and the rating of midshipman was entered against the name of Frank in the muster-book. It would be impossible to describe the varied feelings of Frank at this favourable change in his fortune, which he regretted he could not at once communicate to his mother. On the passage out, however, they fell in with a corvette homeward bound, and the newly-made midshipman having a letter ready written describing the events that had occurred, he was enabled to send it by this conveyance, and his mind became more tranquil, and his heart more buoyant. As for Sambo, he was very soon reconciled to his lot, especially when he saw that his young friend and master was made an officer, and treated with kindness and respect. The negro was stationed in the main-top, and showed himself desirous to learn his duty. History has recorded the events connected with the occupation of Toulon by the allied forces; and here it was that Frank first beheld a scene of warfare. Splendid was the spectacle to his young and ardent mind. There lay the combined fleets of England and Spain, their bright colours and floating pennants flashing in the sun; whilst in the background rose the almost perpendicular mountains of granite, relieved at the base by the white batteries and buildings of the town. As they approached the noble harbour, the smoke from the cannon and musketry proclaimed that active hostility was going on; and Frank felt his heart swell at the thoughts of being engaged with the enemies of his country. They had scarcely moored the ship, when reinforcements were demanded for the shore; and a party of seamen and marines was landed under the command of Lieutenant Evans, and Frank was permitted to accompany him on duty in the town. Here he had indeed opportunity of beholding all the pomp, the circumstances, and the cruelties of war; for scarcely a day passed that did not bring with it a skirmish with the enemy. It was not, however, till several weeks had elapsed that Frank was engaged in hostility. It was on the night of the sortie made by General O'Hara against the masked battery that had been constructed by Buonaparte to play upon Fort Malbosquet. Armed with a cutlass, a brace of pistols, and a pike, the young midshipman accompanied his party to the attack. He felt that he was now an officer in the service of his country; and though his heart palpitated at the thoughts of going into battle, he determined not to flinch. The night was dark; and silently and stealthily they proceeded up the mountain. This enemy had suspected the design, and were in readiness to receive them; and then began the terrible affray. Frank kept as close to Mr. Evans as he could; he had in some measure become used to the peals of musketry, but not to the consequences of the murderous discharge; and his heart quailed when he beheld body after body rolling down the declivity, and heard the shrieks of the wounded as they lay bleeding on the ground, or fell from crag to crag mangled and dying. This dread did not last long, for he was hurled into the very thick of the mêlée, and desperation lent strength to his arm. Encouraged by Mr. Evans, who cheered on his men, he rushed forward with the advance, his spirit rising as the strife increased. For a short time he was separated from the lieutenant, but the tide of contest ranging back, he once more joined him at the moment that he had been brought to the earth by a blow from the butt of a French musket; and the soldier was about to repeat the stroke, when Frank with his pike charged with the utmost violence he could muster against the man; the sharpened iron entered his breast so as to throw the soldier off his balance, the blow descended short of the intended victim, and the weapon was shattered to pieces. But the French soldier was not defeated; and snatching at the prostrate officer's sword he possessed himself of it, and prepared to take ample revenge on the stripling who had no other weapon to oppose to his gigantic strength than his cutlass. Frank gazed at his powerful adversary and believed his last hour was come; but he determined not to abandon the lieutenant. One thought--one moment's thought of his mother intruded--a pang of bitterness and anguish passed through his heart; and then placing himself on the defensive, and purposing if possible to elude his enemy by activity, he saw him advance. At this instant, however, a British corporal interposed, and lunged at the Frenchman with his bayonet; but the brave fellow had been previously wounded and his strength was failing him; still his spirit was indomitable, and a sharp conflict ensued, Frank occasionally getting a cut at the Frenchman, whose superior fencing gave him an admirable command of his weapon; and the youth with horror saw the sword of Mr. Evans passed through and through the body of the corporal: it was done with the rapidity of lightning, and the gallant man fell to the ground with one deep and parting groan. A laugh--a horrible laugh of triumph issued from the enemy as he now considered his young victim safe to satiate his revenge. The body of the lieutenant lay between them; and as he began to give tokens of returning animation, the soldier seemed undecided whether he should attack the youth or give the officer the _coup-de-grace_. Frank beheld him advance--he would not retreat, but with cool determination parried the thrust; but the superior strength of his opponent prevailed; his guard was beat down, and the sword that had so recently taken life was again wet with blood; the youth was borne backward on its point, and in all probability another second would have stretched him lifeless by the side of Mr. Evans, had not a bold athletic seaman flung himself against the soldier, who promptly recovered his blade, but not till he was staggered by a blow from the tar, who shouted in a voice that Frank instantly recognised, "Ware hawse, you lubber--puckalow that--what's the odds, so as you're happy?"--it was Ben Brailsford. A cry of delight burst from the youth as he incautiously hailed his old companion; for Ben was not aware who it was that he had preserved; but on hearing the well-remembered tongue of his young friend, he turned suddenly round. The Frenchman instantly perceived his advantage, and made a pass that must have dangerously wounded if not killed the worthy seaman, but that the tar, intuitively sensible of his error, sprang on one side, and the sword of his antagonist did but graze his arm. For several minutes the conflict was desperate; Ben was unskilled in the practices of scientific fencing, but he was perfect master of the guards and cuts; and the Frenchman's vigour began to relax through the wounds he had received, and the excessive exertions he had undergone. At last finding resistance futile, the soldier dropped the point of his sword in token of surrender, and the seaman, after disarming him, hastened to the side of the youth, who had fallen to the ground inanimate. THE LIVERY--OUT OF LONDON. At my friend the squire's, when he lived down at Grassby Farm in Cheshire, I was a constant visitor; and for nothing was that pleasant hospitable house more remarkable than for the eccentric animals that found their way into it, whether as guests or as servants. Of both classes, in the course of a very few years, there were several queer specimens. I laugh as I recal them to mind. Delightful Grassby, what joyous hours have rolled away there! Well content should I have been to have remained a welcome guest there for ever, if I could but have secured the privilege of dining as sparingly as I liked, and of taking just as few glasses of the old ale or the old port as suited _me_, rather than my friend. But with the old-fashioned notions of hospitality prevalent there, the comfort of "enough" was out of the question. It was a word never used at the squire's table. If you desired to taste a second or a third dish, good bountiful Mrs. N. sent you a second or third _dinner_; and not to eat _all_ that was placed before you, though already long past the point where appetite and desire cease, was to break through every principle of their establishment, and violate all their simple ideas of etiquette and good breeding. If you left the remaining wing of the turkey, they would be wretched for the rest of the day--"You didn't like it," "you were not comfortable." After a year or two, Mrs. N. did so far relax, and mingle mercy with her hospitality, as to say when placing two ribs of roast beef upon one's plate, "I hope if there's more than you wish for, that you won't scruple to leave it." The reader will be lucky if he can secure as much indulgence as this, at many country-houses where old fashions and principles yet prevail, and my Lady Bountiful reigns supreme. Consequences the most alarming sometimes ensued from this sense of the necessity of consuming whatsoever was placed before you by your host. A travelling acquaintance of the squire's (one Mr. Joseph Miller) paid him a flying visit one morning; and as he could not possibly stay one moment, and insisted upon not taking any refreshment at all, he was let off with a tankard of ale, and some of the finest cheese in the county. The traveller threw upward a look of despair as he saw about half a magnificent "Cheshire" introduced to his notice; but as time was precious, he went to work, and ate with vigour for half-an-hour, when the postboy knocked to remind him of the necessity of completing that stage in a given time, or the journey would be fruitless. The answer returned was, that the traveller "would come as soon as he could;" and upon the cheese he fell again with increased energy. Another thirty minutes elapsed, when he paused to gaze, with evident symptoms of exhaustion, on the semicircle of Cheshire, not yet visibly diminished; a second rap now summoned him, but his reply was an anxious, hopeless look, and the faint ejaculation "Wait!" The attack on the cheese was once more renewed, but by no means fiercely. "Gad," cried the squire, at last, "had I guessed you could ha' staid so long, we'd a hastened dinner a bit." "So long!" exclaimed the traveller in a tone of despair; "let me tell you such a piece of cheese as that isn't to be got through so soon as you think for!" Another case, and a still more piteous one, was that of a young and simple damsel from a neighbouring county, who brought with her to Grassby Farm the established consciousness (prevailing still over a large portion of the country) of the unpardonable rudeness of sending away anything presented by the host. Accordingly, one day at dinner, when cheese was sent round, and a plate containing several pieces was handed to the young lady, she presumed it to be meant for her, and as in duty bound devoured the whole supply. It so happened that she did not visit at the squire's again for some considerable time; and then, when remonstrated with for not calling upon her friends at the farm, she said, "Well, I will call, I shall be delighted to dine with you again; but--pray don't give me so much cheese!" All who entered the farm seemed alike under the influence of one dreary and imperative necessity; that they must take whatever was offered them--which never failed to be too much. A French gentleman one evening underwent with exemplary politeness the martyrdom of drinking sixteen cups of tea, simply from not knowing that he was expected, when tired, to put the spoon in the cup. This at last he did, by mere accident, or good Mrs. N. would have gone on pouring out for him all night, to her great felicity. [Illustration] Never but once--only once--was that excellent lady convicted of a fit of moderation in the arrangements of her table, and that was when some fine London acquaintances had been persuading her to transform a rustic lout of a stripling into a page, and assuring her that thick pieces of bread at dinner were quite barbarous and vulgar. She did so far forget her original nature, as to decorate the boy with roley-poley buttons, to turn his Christian name of Colin into the surname of Collins, and to admonish him on the subject of bread thus--"Collins, don't cut up so many loaves when we have company at dinner; I don't like very small pieces, but then there shouldn't be too many; you should _count heads_; you must know how much bread will be wanted, and cut accordingly. Now mind!" Kind, hospitable dame, how was she punished for her precaution! When the next dinner-party assembled, and a dozen persons had taken their seats at the table, Collins proceeded to hand the bread round after the provincial fashion of twenty years ago; but by the time he reached his mistress, the last person of the dozen, the bread was gone. "Collins," said she, in a low discreet whisper, "some bread, some more bread." Collins's whisper in reply was meant to be equally discreet, but it was more audible. "Please, ma'am, I did count heads, and cut twelve bits, but that 'ere gentleman _has took two pieces_!" Collins, the page, was but the folly of a day; he speedily disappeared; yet there remained for some time in the heart of his mistress a lurking desire to engraft a few of the best London usages upon the more substantial country customs, and if not to keep pace with the spirit of the present age, at least to emerge out of the deep recesses of the past. Robin, the successor of Collins, was a victim to this spirit of innovation. He was a rustic of one idea; which was, to do whatever he was ordered as well as he could. If told to make haste, he would simply start off at the top of his speed; if told to fly, he would assuredly attempt with his arms and coatflaps an imitation of the action of a bird, and fly as well as he was able. He understood all instructions literally; Robin had no imagination. To bring in everything upon a waiter, was an order he could easily comprehend; mistake was impossible. "Well, I declare!" cried Mrs. N. to some visitors one morning, "you haven't yet seen my pets;" (some pups of an illustrious breed, that had just seen the light;) "Robin, bring in the pets--they are miracles." There was considerable delay, however, in the execution of this order; and more than one inquiry went forth, why Robin did not bring in the pups. At last, when curiosity was at its height, and expectation on tiptoe, Robin did contrive, after a "to do" outside the door, to make a formal appearance with the pups, and to explain the delay:--"Here be pups, ma'am, only dang it they won't keep on waiter." [Illustration] Where the squire picked up the Imperturbable who came next, I never understood. At this distance of time it is not unreasonable to doubt whether he was in reality a human being; he might have been a talking automaton. He never appeared to have "organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions;" he seemed to be simply a thing of clock-work. "Master wants a bit more muffin," or "The ice has broke and master's drownded in the pond," would be uttered by him in exactly the same formal tone of voice, with exactly the same stiff and deliberate air. It was all one to him whether he had to announce--"There's a cricket-match on the common," or "the French have landed." Never shall I forget his walking into the room one day, an hour after dinner, and fixing himself beside his master's chair while the squire was telling us one of his sporting stories which were sometimes rather long; waiting patiently until the close for the signal to proceed, and then when the Squire had turned round leisurely to know what he wanted, saying in his slow tone, "When I went up stairs, sir, a little while ago, the house was a-fire! It's burning now." [Illustration] But I ought to relate one more example of the manner in which the patience of the Squire's lady was tried, by the rusticity of her attendants, during the short season of her attempt to elevate her household arrangements into something like fashionable dignity. One day, when the Squire had sent off, upon some frivolous errand, every servant in the house except cook and coachman, in dropped a very important visitor who proffered his company at dinner, to the consternation of the lady: hospitable as she was, she was in a dilemma; but it could not be helped. The services of the coachman were duly called into requisition to wait at table, greatly to his chagrin, for he detested the duty, and whenever he chanced to be called upon to perform it, was sure to find some means of letting all the room know that he did. He abhorred indoor work, and took a pride in proclaiming himself to be coachee. On this occasion, having some apple-dumplings to bring in (vulgarities to which the Squire was considerably attached), the coachman, not qualified by daily practice for the duty, let some of them slip off the dish; but recovering himself, he contrived to balance the dish as he held it out, and to steady the rolling dumplings therein, with a "Who-o, whoo-oo, _whut!_" Neither the Squire nor his lady ever affected the "gentilities" after this, or allowed their honest hearts to be disconcerted about trifles; and with this last "tray" of domestic awkwardness, I for the present take my leave of the Livery. RUS IN URBE. OMNIBUS CHAT. "Easy travelling this, sir; smooth roads, no turnpikes; no dirt thrown about, no splashing. Pleasant for me, who have just arrived from Van Diemen's Land," (we all looked up at our new visitor V. D. L.)--"yes, sir, where they are 'mending their ways,' as you are here, only not quite so fast; haven't got to Indian-rubber roads yet, though advanced beyond the point at which the traveller in my legend was obliged to stop." This allusion being evidently preparatory to the production of a story, V. D. L. was invited to explain, which he instantly did by chanting the following LEGEND OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. Long time ago, when public roads In far Van Diemen's Land, Were only fit for frogs and toads, Composed of pools and sand; (For folks had not tried newest modes Of making wood-ways grand); And narrow wheels, and heavy loads, Made ups and downs on every hand: Long time ago, When things were so, By some arch wag it was averr'd The following incident occurr'd.-- It chanced, on one of old October's days, A traveller was travelling along, And, as he jolted in his strong-spring'd chaise, "Beguiled the tedious minutes" with a song: When, lo! a hat upon a pool he sees, That did not seem to feel the "balmy breeze," But in the middle kept its place! As if it had resolved, with honest pride, Not to be driven down upon the side, When it might hold the central space. The traveller got out, and took it up,-- Most strange!--a head beneath the hat appears, Whose hair had of the puddle ta'en a sup, And now was weeping dirty-looking tears:-- "How?" said the traveller, "why! how is this? You've sunk a precious depth, my friend, in mud; How did you 'come to go' so much amiss, As walk in muddy water--in cold blood?-- Ye gods! why, sir, you must have been like lead, So deep into this puddle to have gone." "If _I'm so deep_," the other gruffly said, "_Where, where, must be the horse that I am on?_" "Accidents of that sort will happen in the best regulated countries," remarked a modern Traveller, who had now, with an air of subdued jollity, taken his place amongst us, and who was distinguished among his familiars as Illustrious Tom, "though I can't say I ever witnessed such an adventure in Cheapside. But you call to mind a home-adventure, a scene at Bolton. Most towns, you must know, in almost every county, can boast of their little evening coterie, in which the affairs of the nation are more or less learnedly discussed, and where the wags of the place play off their jokes, practical, comical, or serious. It generally happens, too, that these congregated sons of smoke (for smokers they all are) take up some district name; as the 'Bolton Trotters,' the 'Wigan Badgers,' the 'Item Dolls,' the 'Corporation of the King's Arms Kitchen,' the 'Quarter of Hundred Bricks,' or a hundred other names that might be mentioned; and all these coteries are composed of about the same materials, the doctors, lawyers, retired tradesmen, country squires, and budding wags. It may be my province by and by to detail a few of the farcicalities which I have either taken part in, or heard related by some old Brick-Badger, Trotter, or Doll. For the present, here is a tale, related to me with many a deep sigh by an old one, whose trot is now reduced to a most miserable shamble. "It had been a stormy November day, when a commercial traveller alighted at the door of the Swan Inn. It was almost dark. He was a gentleman from Leeds, in the cloth trade, and had ridden over the moors--not as the young ones do now who drive--but on a strong Cleveland bay cob, wrapped in a good Devon kersey coat, that would defy all weathers, much better than your nasty Mackintoshes. Well, sir, there was a good deal o' guessing, among us who were having a bit o' trot, at who he was. The waiter was called in, and 'thowt he was a new chap,'--he didn't know him. In about an hour he made his appearance, and begged to be allowed to join us. He was a strapping Leeds win'er, and no toy to play with, I assure you. The trotting was very slow for a time, when the bold wag, Jem Brown, went in to win, and filled his pipe. Mr. A., the lawyer, sat on one side the fire; the traveller, in what was called Travellers' Chair, on the other. Up got Jem to ring the bell, and then, as he passed by him--'You must have had a rough day,' says Jem; 'didn't I see you ride in about an hour ago?' 'Mebby ye did, I come in about that toime,' was the answer. 'On a bay cob?' says Jem. 'Eigh, a did.' 'A clever little hack, I be bound,' says Jem again. 'Eigh,' rejoins the traveller, 'the fastest in any town he goes inta.' 'Wew!' says Jem, 'I'll upo'd him a good 'un, but that's going ow'er far.' 'I'll bet a pound on't,' says the traveller. 'Nay, I never bet money--but I'll bet brandies round, I've a faster.' 'Dun,' says the traveller. 'Order in the brandy, and book it,' says Mr. A. Down went the bet, and down went the brandy, and the horses were ordered out. The traveller was soon mounted, and sure enough it was as nice a tit as onny man need wish throw a leg over. The traveller began to be impatient, when Jem at last made his appearance at the door, pipe in hand. What's that your fast hoss? let's see him walk.' On he went. 'Here, come back, and come in, for ye've lost.' 'Lost, how?' 'Why,' says Jem, 'mine's been stuck fast at Bolton-moor clay-pit this three days, and gone dead this afternoon.' 'A fair trot,' cried the whole party, amidst a roar o' laughter, as Jem retreated out o' the way of the strapping and irritated loser. (Now it was on the same evening, and at the expense of this same sturdy Yorkshireman, to provoke whom was no joke, that a joke was played off, which is commemorated in an oil painting that now hangs up in the commercial room of the Swan. Mr. A.'s leg was covered with a black silk stocking; the traveller's was cased in stout leather; when a bet was laid that the wearer of the silks would hold his leg longer in hot water than the wearer of the leathers. The experiment was tried in boiling water. In two minutes the Yorkshireman was in agony, while the lawyer looked on with astonishing composure-for his was a _cork leg_.") "But a Yorkshireman may be a philosopher," observed C.E.W., who now interposed a remark, "and philosophy can stand every description of hot water, save that which love brings us into. Practical jokes are of many kinds; a kiss is very often but a practical joke; and as an appropriate successor to your tale of the silk stocking and the boot, let me give you the story of THE GIRL AND THE PHILOSOPHER. As Kate went tripping up the town (No lassie e'er looked prettier), An "unco chiel" in cap and gown (No mortal e'er looked grittier) Accosted Kitty in the street, As she was going to cross over, And robb'd her of a kiss--the cheat, Saying, "I'm a _philosopher_!" "A what?" said Kitty, blushing red, And gave his cap a toss over; "Are you? Oh, _phi_!" and off she sped, Whilst he bewail'd the "_los-oph-er!_" "The learned lover, sir, who bewailed the '_los-oph-er_'(said a visitor, who now favoured us with his company) was the last man in the world to die of love. No man ever died of love, who did not kill himself; and no man ever killed himself, who knew what philosophy was. True philosophy may buy prussic-acid, but, like Tantalus, taste not a drop; true philosophy saunters to the Serpentine, and then saunters back to supper and a cigar. This," said Dr. Bulgardo, L.S.D., "I shall endeavour to illustrate in a poetical tribute to THE GRAVE OF THE SUICIDE (WHO THOUGHT BETTER OF IT). My eye grew as dull as a half-scallop'd oyster, And soon would my death in the _Times_ have rejoiced her; So to Battersea-fields, for no meadows are moister, I hurried to drown both myself and my woes. Down life's sunny stream many seasons I'd floated Till pleasures now bored me, on which I had doted; So I vowed that my death should by lovers be quoted Where the pale, sentimental asparagus grows. Alas! I exclaim'd, with a half-broken hiccup, The soft crumbs of comfort no more can I pick up; My sorrows are mix'd as it were in a tea-cup, Without any sugar to take off the taste. But sorrows are often inflicted to try us; Kind fortune, invisibly, often stands by us; And now on the roof of the famous eel-pie house The blinker-eyed goddess was luckily placed. She kindly assured me my views were mistaken, That really by Betty I wasn't forsaken; So I walk'd back to town and got into the Fakenham coach, to return to my Betty again. Four lovers already had tried to divert her Attentions from me, but their eagerness hurt her; She said that she knew that I wouldn't desert her, And now is the suicide gayest of men!" [Illustration] A RIGID SENSE OF DUTY. At one of our sea-port towns there stood (and, we believe, doth stand there still) a fort, on the outside of which is a spacious field, overlooking a delightful prospect of land and water. At the time we are speaking of, a Major Brown was the commandant; and his family being fond of a milk diet, the veteran had several cows that pastured in the land aforesaid; a sentry was placed near the entrance, part of whose duty it was to prevent strangers and stray cattle from trespassing therein. Upon one occasion, an Irish marine, a stranger to the place, was on guard at this post, and having received the regular orders not to allow any one to go upon the grass but the major's cows, determined to adhere to them strictly. He had not been long at his post, when three elegant young ladies presented themselves at the entrance for the purpose of taking their usual evening walk, and were quickly accosted by the marine with "You can't go there!" "Oh! but we may," uttered the ladies with one voice, "we have the privilege to do so." "Privilege," repeated the sentry; "fait an' I don't care what ye have, but you mustn't go there, I tell ye; it's Major Brown's positive orders to the conthrary." "Oh--ay--yes--we know that," said the eldest of the ladies with dignity, "but we are Major Brown's daughters." "Ah, well, you don't go in there then anyhow," exclaimed Pat, bringing his firelock to the post, "you may be Major Brown's daughters, but you're not Major Brown's cows." * * * * * The answer to Mr. Sly's Enigma (in last No.) is a _liquid_[5], which forms the _third_ part of _Rum_, the _fourth_ of Port, the _fifth_ of _Shrub_, the _sixth_ of _Brandy_, the _seventh_ of _Madeira_, the _eighth_ of _Burgundy_, the _ninth_ of _Bordeaux_, the _tenth_ of _Maraschino_. It is a letter which is not seen in _the alphabet_, forms no part of a _syllable_, and yet is found in _every_ word.--V. D. L. * * * * * "Are there two 'S's' in St. Asaph?" asked Lord Dunce of a popular humourist, as he was directing a letter to a learned Bishop who bore that title. "Unless _you_ wish to make an 'ass' of his Lordship, decidedly not," was the answer; and Lord Dunce finished the address without further inquiry. * * * * * [Illustration] _Driver_ (calling out). Tom, is that 'ere elderly lady come, as ve vaited for last trip? _Cad_. Vel, I _do_ think I sees her a coming. _Driver_. But are you sure it's the same? _Cad_. Oh yes--Vy I was in the office ven the Governor booked her, by the name o' Mrs. Toddles, and eh?--hang me if she arn't a toddling off the wrong vay arter all. Vel, drive on, ve can't wait for nobody. Some people alvers _aire_ too late, and alvers vill be. _Driver_. Vy, yes, Tom; but I reckon it must take _her_ a couple o' hours to put on that bonnet afore she comes out. She must git up a little earlier, or else I should reckimend her to put it on the night afore. [Illustration: Oh my goodness there is a mouse!!!] [Illustration: Oh! my good gracious! here is a great "Black Beadle" !!! !!!!] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 5: The liquids are "l, m, n, r."--_Lindley Murray._] [Illustration: Flying Beadles] FRIGHTS! There is no fever so contagious as fright. It runs, like a bell-wire, through the house, communicating from one line of agitation to another. Frights, in a national point of view, are called "clouds on the political horizon." These clouds are very catching; if one nation in Europe has the vapours, all have--as we have lately had an opportunity of witnessing. In a civic, or we should say rather in a commercial, sense, frights are called "panics;" they are wonderfully contagious. No sooner is one house in danger, than another feels itself in peril. You walk at such a season through some vast capital, amidst lines of lofty and durable-looking mansions, and every one that begins to totter puts at least a couple in mind of tottering also. As this nods to its fall, that returns the nod instinctively. Once set the panic afoot, and each seems inclined to be foremost, rather than hindmost, in the road to ruin; let but a single firm topple down unexpectedly, and its neighbours break too, from nothing but sheer apprehension of breaking. Amidst large assemblages of people--in ball-rooms, theatres, often in churches--fright is irresistible in its progress, if once kindled. The cry of "fire," or a sound construed into the cracking of the wainscot, is enough. The strong, the weak, the bold, the nervous, the old stager and the young novice--are all reduced simultaneously to a common level: they become one mass of flying, fluttering, struggling, shrieking, _selfish_ mortality--rushing to the door, and there effectually blocking up the way; each bent on escape, and each helping to render escape impossible; trampling, stifling, crushing one another, in hideous rout and disorder, without one rational idea amongst the bewildered multitude of the reality of the danger, or one courageous impulse to face it. This wild alarm, like jealousy, makes the meat it feeds on. There is something so contradictory in it, that the presence of numbers, which should be its protection, increases its confusion. It sees its own pale, glaring, terror-stricken image in each man's face, and its diseased imagination multiplies the causes of fear, because its effects are manifold. While such panics prevail, as all veracious chronicles show they do, amongst mankind, who shall presume ungallantly to laugh at thy innocent objects of terror, oh, womankind! or, childhood, even at thine! All have their favourite antipathies. Gentlemen ere now have been appalled at the sight of a black-bottle; many a lady yet looks aghast at the intrusion of a black-beetle; while the child still screams, affrighted at the idea of black-bogy. Leaving the first to the satirist, and the last to the schoolmaster, let us picture to the eyes of ladies a scene, in which every fair reader almost must have been, at least _once_ in her life, an actress. We will suppose that scene to be a lady's "finishing establishment"--for there are no schools now--the school went out of fashion with the shop, and the "establishment" came in with the "depôt" and the "emporium." The group is the prettiest possible, as a specimen of still-life; there is not a whisper, scarcely a motion; the superior is silently calculating the amount of her Michaelmas accounts; the assistant is mutely wondering whether young Ariosto Jackson, whom she met at Northampton last holidays, will again be there at the next breaking up; and several young ladies, in process of tuition, are learning irregular verbs by heart, reading treatises abstrusely scientific, and thinking all the time of nothing; when--all of a sudden--but no, that is not the word--quicker than lightning, transformed as by magic, the scene presents to the eye but one image of consternation--to the ear but one note of terror and dismay. In the centre of the sacred apartment has been detected a small sable intruder. A cry of horror from one young lady--"Oh! my good gracious, there's a great black _beadle_!" brings every other young lady's heart into her mouth. In an instant the room resounds with wild piercing screams. Every chair has its pedestalled votary of Fear, its statue of Alarm exquisitely embodied; the sofa boasts a rare cluster of affrighted nymphs--more agonised by far than if they had been, by some wicked bachelor of a magician, locked for life into a nunnery. The lady-president, to exhibit an example of presence of mind, has leaped upon a chair for the purpose of pulling the bell; she at the same time conveys a lesson of industry, for she agitates it like a "ringer" pulling for a leg of mutton and trimmings. The bell-rope breaks, and the other is out of reach. The screams increase; the servants are summoned by more names than they were ever christened by. "Cook, Sarah, Betsy, Betsy, Jane, Cook, Sarah," are called, together with several domestics who have long since gone away. In the mean time let us snatch a glance at the little dingy contemptible insect, the sable agitator, the Christophe of entomology, who has innocently created all this palpitation in tender bosoms, this distortion of beautiful features, this trembling of limbs, and this discord in voices the most musical. He stands a moment stupified, petrified with astonishment at the rush and the roar around him; recovering from his first surprise, he creeps a pace or two in blank perplexity; he wrestles with his fears--for frightened he is out of his little black wits, you may depend upon it--runs here and there, a few inches to the east, and then a few inches westward, to and fro like a bewildered thing; and then making up his mind, "away he cuts" as hard as he can pelt into the obscurest corner. The enemy out of sight, the boldest of the party, after a minute or two, ventures down and makes a desperate rush to the door; others soon follow this heroine's example; and when they reach the landing--there pale, though recent from the roasting jack, and peeping up from one of the lower stairs of the kitchen flight, they perceive the face of the cook--a face whose expression is half curiosity, half fear. Aspects of wonder and wo-begone alarm are discernible beyond, and fill up the picture of agitation. "Oh, cook! where have you been?" cry the pretty tremblers. "Oh, Miss! what _is_ the matter?" sighs the cook sentimentally, observing at the same time that "her heart beats that quick as she ain't sure she knows her own name when she hears it." "Oh, cook!" cries the least exhausted of the party, "here's a great--here's a great black beadle in the parlour!" On which a very small scream, and a pretty shudder at the recollection, pervade the assembly. "A black-beadle, Miss Higgins! _is that all_! Lauk, well that is disappineting; we thought as you was all a being murdered, and so we couldn't move, we was so frightened. Why, I minds a black-beadle no more nor--no more nor--no, that I don't! But if it had bin a hearwig, Miss Higgins!--ur-r-r-rh! now that's a ruptile as I never could abide!" Had we rushed down stairs sooner, just before the first ring of the bell, a kitchen-group might have presented itself, not unworthy of being sketched. There should we have seen a feminine party of four seated round a table spread with solid viands; the actresses have played their parts to perfection; not like unfortunate players on the mimic stage, who raise to their parched lips empty japan cups, and affect to eat large slices of pasteboard turkeys. No; they have, in the fullest sense of the word, _dined_; and are in that delicious state of dreamy repose, induced by a hearty meal, about mid-day in summer, after having risen early and "washed" till twelve! It is at this juncture they hear the loud quick ring of the parlour-bell. At such a moment, when Missus know'd they was at dinner! Again, again, again; nay, the peal is continuous, and mingled with confused screams. Terror and the cold beef combined, strong ale and intense alarm, prevent them from stirring. Still the bell rings, the screams continue, and grow more distinct! Sarah faints, Betsy manages about half a fit, and Jane staggers a few paces and falls into the arms of Robert the gardener. A jug of ale, which the cook mistakes for water, flung into the face of the fair insensible, causes a sensation that arouses the whole party; and curiosity overcoming fear, leads them towards the stairs, where, hushed and horror-stricken, they await the dread intelligence that "a great black beadle has got into the parlour," his first appearance this season! "Had it been a mad dog, indeed!" they all cry. Yes, and if it had been merely a tiny puppy with the smallest tin kettle tied to his tail, retreating affrightedly from roguish boys, they themselves would have been thrown into a fright indeed. Their instinct would have led them to cry, "Oh here's a mad dog," and to run right in his way. Every man has his "fright." Toads are exceedingly unpopular. The deathwatch, like conscience, doth make cowards of us all. Spiders are unwelcome visitors. Rats (politics apart) are eminently disagreeable. One of a party who went out to kill buffaloes, happening to run away just as all his courage was required, explained the circumstance to his friends thus: "One man dislikes this, and another man that animal; gentlemen, my antipathy is the buffalo." But in certain climates, people are accustomed to horrors; they sup full of them. Nobody there screams out, "Oh here's a scorpion!" or "Good gracious, here's an alligator!" The visits of such common-places are not angelic, being neither few nor far between. It is only some rarer monster that can hope to make a sensation. Now, a hippopotamus, once a season, would come with a forty black-beetle power to an evening party; and a group of timid ladies, kicking the mere crocodiles and rattle-snakes away, may well be imagined rushing into a corner, startled by an unlooked-for intruder, and crying out "Oh my! if here isn't a mammoth! Mamma! here's a great large leviathan!" [Illustration] A PEEP AT A "LEG-OF-BEEF SHOP." It is a melancholy sight to witness the half-starved, anatomical-looking small youths, dressed in every variety of poverty's wardrobe, that linger for hours near a certain little bow-window in St. Giles's; where the nobility, gentry, and public are informed that by paying down the sum of threepence they will be allowed peaceably to depart with an imperial pint of leg-of-beef soup in their own jug. It is a moving sight. To see the hungry looks--the earnest gazes, that are darted through that little bow-window--to see with what intense relish they snuff up the odoriferous vapours which occasionally ascend through the gratings beneath that little bow-window, or roll out in their full fragrance through the doorway adjacent to that little bow-window, ensnaring at every other burst some new, hungry, unsuspecting wayfarer--to see this is indeed a moving sight. Seldom, very seldom is it the good fortune of these watchful youths to revel in such luxuries as leg-of-beef soup, or its rival, alamode; they are beings destined only to view such things afar off, and make vain speculations upon their ravishing flavour; to contemplate them as amalgams expressly prepared for the affluent--those happy ones who can spend threepence and not feel it. Oh! what felicity to be the master of such a shop!--to eat as much as he likes and nothing to pay--to be able to feast his eyesight with the savoury contents of those bright tin kettles when _not_ hungry--to dress in a white apron and striped jacket, and to have supreme command of that ladle--to be able to look sternly upon those perturbed spirits without, and disregard their earnest whisperings of "Oh, don't it smell jolly; and warn't that piece prime, though!"--to be able to go on fishing up the delicious morsels with the same provoking coolness. Oh! to what joys are some men born! But see. Here come two that have had their enjoyment; maybe each has eaten a whole three-penn'orth. No longer do the fumes possess any charm for them; they can now walk composedly past those magic kettles. Now, two happy beings are entering the elysium--two whose delights are yet to come. One of them is a dustman in a spotted neckerchief, red wrist-cuffs, and a cap peculiar to gentlemen in that line of business; the other is his lady, glorying in the euphonic name of "Doll." See with what a majestic air he strides in and takes his seat, as if he could buy up the whole establishment twice over if he chose. Hark with what a lordly voice he calls the waiting-boy, whose benevolent master, for services rendered, rewards him with ninepence per week, and the gratuitous licking of all the crockery soiled on the premises. "Vater!" again vociferates he of the neckerchief. "Yes, sir," is the reply. "Didn't you heear me call vater afore?" "Sorry, sir, but the gen'l'm'n as is just gone was agoin' to forget to pay, sir--that's all, sir." "That's nuffin to do vith me. Ven I calls 'vater,' I vants yer. I can't afford to vaste my precious breath to no purpose as the members o' parliament do, so just prick up them long ears of your'n, and then I think you'll grow the viser." "Yes, sir." "Vell, then, bring this here leddy and me a freeha'penny plate each, and two penny crusties, and ven a gen'l'm'n calls agin, listen to his woice, or maybe it's not unpossible he may get his bit o' wittles at some other ho-tel." With another professional "Yes, sir," the urchin vanishes from the presence. Once more the purveyor's ladle dives into the bright tin kettle. Again he tortures the hungry beholders outside the window--as they look on with outstretched necks and spasmodic mouths--with glimpses of its treasures. They see the choice bits of gristle but for an instant, and no more; for whilst gazing at the sight, in a paroxysm of longing and fever of desire, the plates are borne off to that vile dustman. "Now, Mr. Imperence," says the lady, addressing the purveyor's protégé, at the same time, with much dexterity and elegance, converting a fork she has discovered upon the seat into a toothpick. "Now, Mr. Imperence, I hope you've brought a little less paddywack in it than there was yesterday. As Will says," she continues, stirring and scrutinising the contents of the plate, "bless'd if this house ain't quite losing its caroter." "Brayvo! Doll!" ejaculates her lord approvingly, as leaning backwards with extended leg he draws from his pocket a coin of the realm. "Here, jist valk yer laziness across the vay, and travel back agin vith a pint of half-and-half. Now, vot do you stand ringing o' the money for? Do you think other people is as vicked as yerself?"--"Th' s'picious little warmint!" rejoins the lady, swallowing a spoonful of the soup with alarming expedition, and fulfilling the purposes of a napkin with the back of her hand. "Did you see wot a imperent grin the little beast give?" "Never mind, old gal, you get on," responds the dustman, lounging with both elbows upon the table, and regarding with an air of much complacency the thin-visaged youths outside. "You get on, for I must soon be astirring." In due time the boy and the solution of malt and hops present themselves, and after a hearty draught of the grateful beverage, the dustman evinces a disposition to become musical, and whistles an air or two with perhaps rather more of good will than of good taste. He suddenly looks round, and discovering his lady has finished the plate of soup and the last drain of beer also, summons forth the juvenile waiter from behind a little partition, just at the mortifying moment when his tongue is making clean the interiors and exteriors of two recently-used plates. "Now, then, young imp, wot's the damage?"--"Sixpence, please sir," said the waiter, vainly endeavouring to quiet his tongue, which keeps playing round the sides of his mouth; "two plates and three loaves, please, sir." "We aint had free, you cheating little wagabond!" screams the lady; "we've only had two--you know that!" "Oh! beg pardon, ma'am," replies the boy, after a sly lick; "it was t'other box where the gen'lm'n was as had three. Fippence, then, please sir--two plates and two new'uns--fippence." "You're a nice sample o' thievery for your age," says the dustman, contemplating the boy with one eye, and then counting out four penny pieces and four farthings with curious deliberation. "You're a nice article to cast a gen'l'm'n's bill. Do you happ'n to know a cove in London by the name o' Ketch--Jack Ketch?" "Yes, sir." "Vell then, the next time as you go his vay, have the goodness to leave your card, and say you was strongly recommended to him by me. Now, Doll." Having delivered himself to this effect, greatly to the moral benefit of the boy, who mechanically replies at the conclusion of it, "Yes, sir," with a dignified step he leads the way to the door, merely condescending, as he places his foot upon the sill, to inform the proprietor, that "he's blow'd if there's a worser prog-shop in the whole blessed vurld!" ALPHA. A FEW NOTES ON UNPAID LETTERS. The penny-postage has already wrought an extraordinary change in the public ideas of the value of money. Formerly, according to the old maxim, ninepence was but ninepence; but even twopence has now become a sum sterling, to demand which is to stir men's blood as violently as if the said coins were flung in their faces. To put a letter into the post, and an intimate friend to the expense of twopence, was, only the other day, perfectly natural; under the present system, it is fiendish. A letter sent free costs the sender a penny; to receive a letter not pre-paid, is to expend double the amount. In the degree of attention shown to this little fact, it is not impossible to find a test of the principles of mankind--of the whole corresponding portion of creation at least. The last post-office returns show, that there are upon an average 7654 persons--monsters in the human form, we should rather say--in this metropolis alone, who walk about day by day dropping stampless epistles into ravenous letter-boxes, from sheer misanthropy--hatred of their fellow-creatures; which feeling they are pleased to call forgetfulness, stamplessness, or copperlessness, as convenience may dictate. Never become enraged when you receive a missive from one of them--never storm when you pay double--lest you should chance to justify where you mean to condemn. At unpaid letters look not blue, Nor call your correspondent scamp; For if you storm, he proves that you Received his letter--_with_ "a stamp!" Reflect seriously upon the character of such a correspondent. The man whose letters are not pre-paid may be thus denounced:-- He is selfish, because he would rather you should pay twice, than that he should pay once. He would rather inflict an injury on his friend, than act fairly himself. He is disloyal, because he ought to grace his letter with the head of his Queen, and he declines doing so. He prefers seeing his brother's _two_ pockets picked, to having a hand thrust into one of his own. He is an old fool, who wants to be thought young, and affects carelessness, because it is a youthful fault. Rather than take a bottle of wine out of his own cellar, he would drink a couple at his neighbour's expense. Sooner than experience a stamp on his toe, he would see his old father's gouty feet trampled on. He is ready to discharge a double-barrelled gun at anybody, to escape a single shot at himself. He would ride his friend's horse fifty miles, to save his own from a journey of five-and-twenty. To avoid an easy leap from the first-floor window, he would doom his nearest connexion to jump from the roof. Rather than submit to the privation of half a meal, he would subject any human being to the misery of being dinnerless. He is penny wise and twopence foolish. His penny saved is not a penny got, since the damage he occasions will recoil upon himself. He is more mindful of the flourishing finances of the postmaster-general, than of the scanty funds of individuals who are dear to him. He has no care for the revenue, for he shrinks from prompt payment. He is dishonest, for rather than pay in advance he won't pay at all. * * * * * Above all, never listen to anything that may be urged in his defence. Never attach the slightest importance to such arguments as these:-- He is the best of patriots, because he raises a sinking revenue. He is the best of friends, for he impels all whom he addresses to do good to the state at a slight cost to themselves. He is the most loyal of men, for he cannot bear to part with his Queen's likeness, even upon a penny-piece. He is a gentleman, and never has vulgar halfpence within reach. He is kind to street-beggars, and gives away the penny in charity before he can get to the post-office. He is well read in ancient literature, and knows that those who pay beforehand are the worst of paymasters. He is delicate-minded, and feels that a pre-paid letter implies a supposition that the receiver would care about the postage. His house is open to his acquaintances, who write so many notes there that he never has a stamp to use. He scorns to subject the portrait of his lady-sovereign to the indignity of being tattooed like a New-Zealander. He is a logician, and maintains that if a penny-postage be a good thing, a twopenny-postage must be exactly twice as good. He enables others to do a double service to their country, rather than by doing half that service himself, prevent them from doing any. He denies himself one pleasure that his fellow-creatures may have two. He sympathises in the postman's joy at the receipt of twopence, as it brings back old times, and restores to him his youth. He is so anxious to write to those he loves, that the stamp, hastily affixed, comes off in the letter-box. Signing himself "your most obedient humble servant," of course he dares not take the liberty of paying for what _you_ receive. He is married, and leaves it to bachelors to pay _single_ postage. Mark his hand-writing, nevertheless; and when his unpaid epistle arrives, let your answer be, a copy of the "Times," supplement and all, sealed up in an unstamped envelope. FIRST DISCOVERY OF VAN _DEMONS_' LAND. BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT, C. B. The vessel rose upon the mountain waves, with her bowsprit pointing up to the northern star, and then plunged down into the trough of the sea, as if she were diving like the porpoises which played across her bows,--shaking and trembling fore and aft as she chopped through the masses of water which impeded her wild course. Sea after sea struck her on the chesstree or the beam, pouring over her decks and adding to the accumulation of water in her hold. Her sides were without a vestige of paint--her shrouds and standing rigging worn to less than inch-rope; her running rigging as mere threads; the foresail, the only sail set, as thin as gauze. Decay was visible in every part of her; her timbers were like touchwood; even her capstan had half rotted away; and her masts might have proved, if once ashore, a safe asylum to colonies of ants and woodpeckers. How then could a vessel in this forlorn condition continue afloat or contend with so fierce a gale? Because it was the spectre-ship with her spectre-crew; Vanderdecken, in the Flying Dutchman, still contending against the divine fiat, still persevering in his fatal oath--that he would double the Cape. Vanderdecken stood at the break of the weather-gangway with his chief officer, Jansen, by his side. The crew were most of them sheltering themselves under the weather-side of the deck; their large, flat, pale muffin faces sunk down deep in their chests; shoulders, high and bony; their nether garments like bladders half shrunken, as if there was nothing in them. When they shifted from one part of the deck to the other, their broad, flat feet made no sound as they passed along the planks, which were soft as pith. Their dresses were now of the colour of mahogany or chocolate; seaweed was growing here and there on their jackets; and to the seats of their small-clothes, a crop of barnacles had become firmly attached. They all looked melancholy and disheartened; and as they shivered, the rattle of their bones was distinctly to be heard. Vanderdecken put his speaking-trumpet to his lips-- "Another pull of the weather fore-brace," cried he. "Yaw, yaw," replied the spectre-crew, put into motion by the order. The boatswain piped belay--the sound could hardly be distinguished, as from long use he had blown away much of the metal of which his pipe was composed. Jansen, the mate, looked up at the fore-yard, and then at Vanderdecken. He appeared at first irresolute when he looked into the dogged countenance of Vanderdecken;--at last, he hitched up his nether garments with both hands, and spoke--"It won't do, Captain Vanderdecken,--and the men say it won't do--do you not, my lads, all of you?" "Yaw," was the hollow, melancholy response of the seamen. "Donder und blitzen--what won't do?" replied the captain. "We must bear up, Captain Vanderdecken," replied Jansen; "the ship leaks like an old sieve; our hold is full of water; the men are worn out; every sail we have has been bent and split; nothing but the foresail left. It's no use, Captain Vanderdecken, we must bear up and refit." "You forget mine oath," replied Vanderdecken, surlily. "Hold on, Jansen, that sea is aboard of us." Jansen shook his three jackets and ten pair of small-clothes, as soon as the drenching had passed over. "I tell you, Mynheer Vanderdecken, it won't do--we must bear up." "Yaw, yaw," responded the crew. "Mine oath!" cried the captain again, as he held on by one of the belaying pins. "Without sails, without provisions, and without fresh water on board, you cannot keep your oath--which was to double the Cape. We must bear up, refit, and then try it again." "Mine Oath--I have sworn--I cannot--I will not bear up; Jansen, hold your tongue." "Well, you may keep your oath--for we will bear up for you against your will." "We will! Who will? Do you mutiny?" "Yaw, yaw; we all mutiny," cried the sailors; "we have been now two years trying to double this stormy Cape, and never had a dry jacket the whole time; we must mend our small-clothes, and darn our stockings. For two years and more we have had no fresh meat, and that is contrary to the articles. Captain Vanderdecken we do not mutiny; but we will bear up; with your will, if you please; if not, against your will." "So you mutiny, you ungrateful rascals! Well, stop a moment, till I go into my cabin; when I come out again, I will hear what you have to say, and see if any man dares speak;" and Captain Vanderdecken in a great fury rushed aft and went into his cabin. "I know what he will do, my men," said Jansen; "he has gone for his double-barrelled pistols, and will shoot us through the head;--we must not let him come out again." "Nein, nein," replied the seamen; and they ran to the cabin-doors, and made them fast, so that Vanderdecken could not get out, and could shoot nobody but himself. "Now my lads," said Jansen, "put the helm up, and square the yards." "What's the course to be, Mynheer Jansen," asked the man at the helm. "Keep her right before it, my man; how's her head now?" "About south-west." "That will do--it will fetch somewhere--she walks fast through it. Spielman, heave the log." "What does she go?" "Eighty-five miles an hour; but we must allow something for the heave of the sea," replied the second mate. "She don't sail as well as she did; but we are half full of water," replied Jansen. [Illustration] When a ship runs down more than two degrees of longitude in an hour, it does not take her long to go half round the world. The Flying Dutchman, as she flew along, was pursued by the demons of the storm visible to the crew on board, although not to mortal eyes: some, with puffed-out cheeks, were urging her through the water; others mouthed and yelled; some kicked her stern in derision; others tumbled and curveted in the air above her--ever keeping pace with the vessel, jibing and jeering at their victory; for the Flying Dutchman no longer battled against the adverse elements, but at last had yielded to them. The Dutchmen cared little for the imps, they were used to them, and they smoked their pipes in silence, all but Vanderdecken; the mutiny of the men had put his pipe out. On the second day they had passed Cape Horn without perceiving it; the wind veered more to the east, and they steered more to the northward. On the fourth evening, the sailor on the look-out at the bow called out "Land, hoh!" They steered right for it and entered a large bay; the anchor, in many parts not thicker than a pipe-stem, was dropped, the foresail clued up, and having first armed themselves, the seamen let the captain loose. Vanderdecken was as savage as a bear. He ran out with a pistol in each hand, but a pea-jacket was thrown over his head, and he was disarmed. "Cowardly villains!" exclaimed the captain, as soon as the jacket was removed; "mutinous scoundrels--" "We return to our duty, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the crew, "we will obey your orders. What shall we do first? Shall we mend the sails, or mend our clothes? Shall we darn our stockings, or go on shore for fresh water? Shall we caulk the ship, or set up the rigging? Speak, Captain Vanderdecken, you shall order us as you please." "Tousend tyfels!" replied Vanderdecken, "go to----, all of you." "Show us the way, captain, and we will follow you," replied the crew. Gradually the captain's wrath was appeased; the ship required refitting and watering; he never could have doubled the Cape in the state she was in; the mutiny had prevented his breaking his oath--and now the seamen were obedient. "Shall we take possession of the land, in the name of his most Christian Majesty?" said Jansen. "Take possession in the name of his Satanic Majesty," replied Vanderdecken, turning sulkily away. The captain had not quite recovered his good-humour--he returned to his cabin, mixed a tumbler of brandy and gunpowder, set fire to it, and drank it off--this tisane cooled him down, and when he came out, the crew perceived that all was right, so they went aft and touched their hats. "Liberty on shore for an hour or two if you please," said they; "it's a long while that we've been treading the planks." "Yes, you may go; but I'll keelhaul every man who's not off to his work by daylight--recollect that," replied Vanderdecken. Donder und blitzen--we will all be on board, captain. "They be queer sort of people in this country," observed Jansen, who had been surveying the shore of the bay with his telescope. "I can't make them out at all. I see them put their heads down close to the ground, and then they stand up again; they wear their breeches very low, and yet they jump remarkably well--Hundred tousend tyfels!" continued he, as he looked through the telescope again; "there's one of them six feet high at least, and he has jumped twenty yards. It can't be a woman--if she is, what a springy partner she would make in a dance!" "We'll take the fiddle and schnapps on shore, and have a dance with the natives," cried the boatswain. "Mind you behave civilly and make friends with them," said Vanderdecken; "don't be rude to the women." "Nein, Mynheer," replied the crew, who now lowered the boats and were very soon pulling for the shore--every man with his pipe in his mouth. The spectre-crew gained the beach--quitted the boat, and took up a position under a high rock. The pipes were refilled--the schnapps handed round, and very soon they were as jolly as ghosts could be. "Come, Jansen, give us a song," cried Spielman; "and you, Dirk Spattrel, keep company with your fiddle." "My windpipe is not quite so fresh as it was once," said Jansen, putting his bony fingers up to his neck, "but here goes:-- "In spite of wind and weather, In spite of mountain waves, If our timbers hold together And we sink not to our graves; The Cape we still will double, boys, The stormy Cape we'll clear,-- Who cares for toil or trouble, boys, Who thinks of watery bier? "We left our wives behind us, Bright India's realms to gain, Let nothing then remind us Of them and home again; Close luff'd with well-set sails, lads, We still our course will steer, And beaten back by adverse gales, lads, Cry 'Thus, boys, and so near.' "Who cares for mocking billows, Or demons of the deep? One half sleep on our pillows, While t'others deck-watch keep; Who cares for lightning's flashing, boys, Or noisy thunder's roar? We laugh at wild spray dashing, boys, And clouds that torrents pour. "The ocean is the seaman's slave, Though mutiny it may; Our beast of burden is the wave As well by night as day; To round the Cape we'll reckon, lads, For so our captain will'd; Three cheers for Vanderdecken, lads, His vow shall be fulfill'd." "Yaw--yaw," cried the crew, "we'll round the Cape yet. Drink, boys, drink--three cheers for Vanderdecken! We'll caulk the old ship; we'll repair our old sail; we'll mend our old clothes; we'll darn our old stockings, and then to sea again. Hurrah!--hurrah!" Thus did they continue to drink and carouse until, if they had had any eyes left in their head, they never could have seen visually; but ghosts see mentally, and in the midst of their mirth and jollity, they saw some tall objects coming down gradually and peeping over the rocks, probably attracted by the fiddle of Dirk Spattrel. "The natives!"--cried Jansen, "the natives!--now, my men, recollect the captain's orders--don't be rude to the women." "Yaw--nein--yaw!" replied the reeling spectres; "oh, nein, but we'll get them down here and have a dance; that's civility all over the world." "But I say," hiccupped Spielman, "what rum beggars these islanders be! only look, they are coming down to us, all of their own accord!" This was true enough; a herd of kangaroos, attracted by the sound of the music, but of course not able to distinguish the spectre seamen, who, like all others of a similar nature, were invisible to mortal and to kangaroo eyes, had come down fearlessly to the foot of the rock where the crew were carousing. The Dutchmen had never seen an animal so tall which stood erect like a man, and they were all very drunk; it is not therefore surprising that they mistook the kangaroos for natives clothed in skins, and as the broadest part of their dress was down on the ground, of course they fancied they were the women belonging to the island. "Strike up, Dirk Spattrel," cried Jansen, taking hold of the paws of one of the kangaroos. "Wel sie valtz, Fraulein?" The kangaroo started back, although it saw nothing, and of course said nothing. [Illustration] "Don't be shamming modest, Fraulein. Now then, strike up, Dirk;" and Jansen passed his arm round the kangaroo, which appeared very much alarmed, but, seeing nothing, did not hop away. The rest of the seamen seized the other kangaroos by the paws or round the body, and in a short time such a dance was seen as never took place before. Some of the kangaroos stood upon their thick tails and kicked at their invisible partners with their hind feet, so as to send their ghostships many yards distant; others hopped and jumped in their fright many feet from the ground, taking their partners with them; others struggled violently to disengage themselves from their unseen assailants. Shouts, laughter, and shrieks resounded from the drunken crew at this strange junketting; at last, in their struggling to detain the animals, and the attempts of the frightened kangaroos to escape, the Dutchmen found themselves all mounted on the backs of the kangaroos, who, frightened out of their senses, bounded away in every direction. Thus did the ball break up, every kangaroo carrying off its partner in a different direction. Dirk Spattrel was the only one left, but there was a kangaroo also unemployed; determined not to be left behind, the fiddler jumped on its back, and clinging fast by his legs, commenced such a furious screeching upon his instrument that the animal made a bound of nearly forty yards every time, Dirk Spattrel playing on like one possessed, until he had not only gained, but was far in advance of his brother riders. Away they all went over hill and dale, the fiddle still shrieking in advance, until the exhausted animals fell down panting, and the Dutchmen, tired with their own exertions, and overcome with liquor, dropped asleep where they fell,--for ghosts do sleep as well as mortal men. The next morning there was no one on board at eight o'clock, and Vanderdecken was full of wrath. At last Dirk Spattrel, the fiddler, made his appearance with the remains of his instrument in his hand. "Donder und vind--where are the crew?" cried Vanderdecken. "All gone off with the natives," replied the fiddler. "I thought as much," roared Vanderdecken, "and now I'll give you something for your good news." Vanderdecken seized the end of the fore-brace and commenced a most furious attack upon the shoulders of Dirk Spattrel. The blows were given with great apparent force, but there was no sound, it was like buffeting a bag of wind; notwithstanding Dirk worked round and round, twisting and wincing, and crying, "Ah, yaw, ah!" "Take that, scoundrel!" cried Vanderdecken, as much out of breath as a ghost could be. "They're coming off now, captain," said Dirk Spattrel, rubbing his shoulders. Jansen and the rest of the crew now made their appearance, looking very sheepish. "Where have you been, scoundrels?" "Mynheer Vanderdecken," replied Jansen, "the island is peopled with ghosts and goblins, and demons and devils; one of them seized upon each of us and carried us off the Lord knows where." "Fools!--do you believe in such nonsense as ghosts and spectres?" replied Vanderdecken, "or do you think me such an ass as to credit you? Who ever saw a ghost or spectre! Stuff, Jansen, stuff--you ought to be ashamed of yourself." "It's all true, captain; they came down and ran away with us. Is it not so, men?" "Yaw, yaw," said the crew, "it's all true, Captain Vanderdecken; they leaped with us as high as the moon." "Much higher," cried Dirk Spattrel. "You're a parcel of lying drunken dogs," roared Vanderdecken; "I stop all your leaves--you sha'nt go on shore again." "We don't want," replied Jansen, "we will never go on shore at such a place--full of devils--it is really Van Demon's Land;--we will have the fiddle on the forecastle." "Nein," replied Dirk Spattrel, mournfully showing the fragments. "De tyfel," exclaimed Jansen, "dat is the worst of all;--now, men, we will work hard and get away from this horrid place." "Yaw, yaw," exclaimed the crew. They did work hard; the sails were repaired, the ship was caulked, their clothes were mended, their stockings were darned, and all was ready. The wind blew fiercely from off shore, roaring through the woods, and breaking down heavy branches. Vanderdecken held his hand up--"I think there is a light air coming off the land, Jansen--Man the capstan." "Only a cat's paw; it will not fill our sails, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the mate. The gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in torrents. The wind howled in its rage. "I think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said Vanderdecken. "Heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. Hoist blue Peter and fire a gun." A colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head; the match was applied to the gun, which was so honeycombed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. The anchor was hove up by the spectre crew; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlasting doom. And as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus:-- Away, away! once more away, To beat about by night and day; With joy, the Demons' land we leave, Again the mountain waves to cleave. With a Ha--Ha--Ha! Once more the stormy Cape we'll view, Again our fearless toil pursue; Defy the spirits of the air, Who scoffing bid us to despair. With their Yaw--Yaw--Yaw! Ha--Ha--Ha! [Illustration] FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER V. Ben Brailsford lost not a moment in raising the insensible Frank in his arms, and was about to quit the ground, when he caught sight of the prostrate lieutenant, who now began to recover something like consciousness. He hesitated to depart, and that hesitation was fatal to their freedom, for the enemy had rallied, and receiving a strong reinforcement, became in turn the assailants. The allies were beaten back, and in a few minutes Ben and his young charge were prisoners of war under the guard of the very soldier who had so shortly before been defeated by the seaman. In their progress to the rear they stopped at a dilapidated house near Alcoule, which was occupied as an hospital, and Frank's wound, which was not very serious, was dressed by a surgeon, and the youth recovered. In the same apartment were several wounded officers, amongst whom were General O'Hara and the man who subsequently ruled the destinies of France--Napoleon Buonaparte. But the young midshipman and his gallant protector were not suffered to remain; they were placed with a number of other prisoners under an escort, and proceeded on towards Paris. At Louviers they were joined by another detachment from Toulon, and amongst them was their old acquaintance Sambo. But the negro was not a prisoner: with the cunning of his race, he had no sooner been captured than he declared himself the servant of Monsieur Polverel, and that being forced into the English service, he was endeavouring to escape. His story was not at first credited; but being recognised by the younger Robespierre (then acting as the chief of the commissariat before Toulon), who had seen him in Paris, he was released. A plausible tale deceived the Frenchman, and Sambo was sent round to join his master. Ben hailed the black with great glee, and Frank addressed him, expressing regret at his capture; but the wary negro pretended not to know them, though when they halted for the night, he found means to supply them with provisions, and clean straw to sleep upon. At length they entered Paris, and were met by a revolutionary mob which had just been witnessing the feeding of the guillotine with victims from their own body. The appearance of the prisoners was hailed with loud shouts, and numbers of both sexes rushed forward to wreak their still unsatiated vengeance. Sambo had stood aloof; but when he saw the extreme danger which his old friends were in, he joined them, fully determined to afford all the protection in his power. The sight of a black seemed to awaken a still greater degree of excitement amongst the rabble, especially as the negro by his position manifested opposition to their designs. Yells and shouts arose. "A bas les noirs!" "à la lanterne!" "à la place de Grève!" "let us see what colour his blood is!" "an experiment! an experiment!" "away with him to the guillotine!" "we have had no negro yet! an experiment! an experiment!" A desperate rush was made upon them, and both Sambo and the young midshipman were separated from the rest and borne away by the mob. It was perhaps well for Frank that he had been plundered of his uniform soon after his capture; for such was the demoniac hatred of the English, that, as an officer, he probably might have been torn to pieces. The negro addressed them in their own language, announcing himself a native of San Domingo, employed by Monsieur Polverel, but his voice was drowned in the universal outcry, and then he joined in their shouts of "Vive la Nation!" sung snatches of revolutionary songs, danced as they danced, and tried by every means to appease their fury. But the wretches wanted to see a black man die; it promised a new sensation. The mob approached the Hôtel de Ville, when their progress was arrested by a tall man who was supported on a post that elevated him so as to be distinctly conspicuous to all. His dress was shabby in the extreme, and on his head he wore the revolutionary cap, but both Frank and the negro instantly recognised Monsieur Polverel. He spoke to the rabble, and in a vehement address that drew down loud applause he approved of their excesses, whilst the mob, to show that they had fresh victims to immolate, thrust forward the negro and the youth, so that he might see them. Polverel instantly descended, and, rushing amongst the throng, clasped the negro in his arms. "What do you?" exclaimed he; "in your just fury the eye of reason is dimmed--is he not a man and a brother?" and again he embraced him, to the great surprise of the black. "Cease, my friends," continued Polverel; "know ye not that deputies have arrived from San Domingo to sit in the great council of the nation? This is one of them; I am a member of the Society of 'Les Amis des Noirs,' and know him well." He turned to Sambo, "Pardon, citizen deputy, the zeal of the people." He took the arm of the astonished negro, and pinching it most unmercifully, shouted "Vive le peuple, vive la nation;" the _impressive_ hint was not lost, for Sambo's voice rose high in chorus. In an instant the scene was changed, the merciless wretches were diverted from their purpose, and the negro whom they would have murdered in pastime but for this fortunate intervention was raised upon the shoulders of two stout men and greeted with cheers of welcome; they bore him along to the Hôtel de Ville. In his joy for deliverance Sambo forgot his young master, but it was only for the moment; and in turning to look for him, he saw that Monsieur Polverel had taken him under his protection, and was leading him away from the throng; for the Frenchman had not forgotten the obligation he was under to Frank for saving him from the fury of an English mob; he withdrew him cautiously from the dangerous company he was in, and placing the youth under the charge of a friend, followed the rabble in order to perfect the rescue of his servant. The person to whose care Frank was entrusted was an elderly man apparently verging upon sixty years of age, but there was a keenness in his eye and a vivacity in his manner that manifested an active and intelligent mind; his dress was slovenly, but he wore a handsome tri-color sash round his loins, and carried a red cap in his hand. At first he spoke to Frank in French, but something occurring to displease him, he broke out into broad English, and muttered his anathemas against the cause. "You are an Englishman, then," said Frank, with symptoms of disgust which did not escape the other's notice. "Thou art right," returned the man; "I am an Englishman by birth, but a citizen of the world--a friend to the whole human race on the principles of universal liberty. Expatriated and driven from my country, this noble and enlightened nation has adopted me; and here in brotherly affection I can carry out into practice my theory of the rights of man. What is life, my young friend, without the blessings of freedom!" At this moment a municipal officer, attended by three or four subordinates, stepped up to Frank's companion, and, grasping him by the arm, uttered "Citizen Paine, you are our prisoner." "By whose authority?" demanded the Englishman, his face assuming a deadly paleness. "The authority is here," returned the officer, showing a paper with the signature of Robespierre attached to it, and, a fiacre immediately stopping by their side, citizen Paine was hurried into it and driven off to the Luxembourg, where, in the chamber which had been occupied by many a victim to the revolutionary mania, he contemplated the paternal regard of the nation that had adopted him, and sighed for the blessing of that freedom of which he had so vainly boasted. He had sat in judgment on the mock trial of the unfortunate Louis, but had given his vote against the monarch's death. This had rendered the ambitious dictator his enemy, and an opportunity was soon sought to take his life. The egotistical boasting of Thomas Paine afforded a pretext for arresting him; he was sent to prison, and would have been sacrificed by "his friends" but for an accident which saved him. Frank, hungry and thirsty, destitute of money, and but with few rags to cover him, now stood alone in one of the by-streets of Paris. As evening came on, he crept into the cellar-way of an uninhabited house. At daylight he emerged from his concealment, and proceeded in the same direction in which he had been going when parted from his guide. It was yet early when, on turning a corner, he beheld a well-looking young man, accompanied by a stout Amazonian female, who were hurrying forward, but, on seeing the youth, suddenly stopped, and Frank felt his arm grasped by the woman, whilst a chuckle of delight escaped from the young man, who uttered in a whisper-- "Yah no for peak-a me, Massa Frank, hearee? Dere him, massa, for me behind--tan lilly bit become for you." Frank stared with astonishment--the voice was that of Sambo, but the skin was fair. "How--what is this?" demanded he. "Oh, it's all ship-shape enough, Master Frank," said the woman in a masculine tone, and hitching up her petticoats in true nautical style. "I'm bless'd, young gentleman, but you do shake a cloth or two in the wind--but there, what's the odds so as you're happy? Mountseer Pulthebell is coming up astarn, and a precious cruise they've had arter you." "Yah no for tand palaver here, Missy Ben," muttered Sambo, with a grin of mirth. "Golly me black deputy now, and dem debbil take off white head at 'em gullemtine, no sabby de citizen nigger," and he pushed forward with his companion. In spite of all his mishaps Frank could not refrain from laughing at the awkwardness of the pretended female, who straddled along with swinging arms, the petticoats evidently embarrassing the wearer. In a few minutes the youth was joined by Monsieur Polverel, who cautioned him to preserve silence and follow his movements. Shortly afterwards he stopped before the entrance of a mean-looking building, and knocking at the door, was immediately admitted. Frank followed, and was ushered into an apartment poorly furnished, where he found Sambo and the seaman, and learned that Polverel, by means of his influence and some little intrigue, had procured Ben's release, and disguised in woman's clothes, under the guidance of Sambo, whose face was concealed beneath a mask, had got him clear away from present danger. Refreshment was ordered, and Polverel led Frank through the house to some back premises, where the apartments were fitted up in the most elegant style, everything displaying an air of luxury which strongly contrasted with the appearance of the front building, which served as a blind to the populace, who had declared a lasting enmity to all things beyond their own sphere of enjoyment, though themselves were the principal sufferers through the want of demand for their manufactures and the consequent stoppage of industrious labour. Here Frank and Ben remained, and Polverel renewed his attempts to undermine the youth's loyalty; he took him with him to the clubs; offers of lucrative appointments were made, powerful inducements were held out, but all were firmly rejected. He loved his country too well to swerve from his allegiance; his heart yearned to see his mother once again; but had there not been these incentives, the horrible atrocities he had witnessed were too deeply impressed upon his mind to permit a willing companionship with the wretches who perpetrated and sanctioned them. In his evening excursions Frank had frequently encountered a tall man whose features were familiar to him, and more than once or twice he had observed him enter the house of Monsieur Polverel. An indefinable curiosity induced him to watch this man, and being on one occasion in a remote part of the room, when he and the deputy came in, he remained perfectly still and undiscovered, and was not long in ascertaining by their conversation that the stranger was an Englishman in the pay of the Jacobins, and had brought over some important intelligence relative to the designs of the English government, which he was now in a traitorous manner betraying to the enemy. Frank scarcely suppressed an indignant exclamation, but fortunately he did suppress it, and rose to quit the room. This was the first intimation they had of his presence, and as he passed the spy the youth looked boldly in his face. In an instant the man's countenance underwent a change; there was the peculiar rolling of the eye which Frank had never forgotten, and lawyer Brady was revealed before him. The young midshipman now resolved to attempt an escape, and Polverel finding that all his endeavours to detain him were useless, at last furnished him with the means. Stores were about to be forwarded to the Army of the North, and it was proposed that the seaman and his young officer should accompany them; the former habited as a Dutchwoman, the latter as a volunteer, taking their chance to slip away wherever and whenever they could; but the very night these arrangements were completed, Polverel was seized by order of his _friend_, Robespierre, a sham trial was hurried over, and the next day he was consigned to the guillotine. Frank did not delay another instant (for he was aware that the property of the deputy would be plundered by the populace), and being provided with the papers furnished by Polverel, set out on his journey, accompanied by Ben in short petticoats, wooden shoes, and a large hat; his whiskers were shaved off, but he would not part with his tail, and it was therefore braided up round his head, and a fine buxom vrow he made. Sambo had no inducement to remain behind; so securing what money he could find, and taking his fiddle, he joined his young master, and all three proceeded on their way. The stores for the army were not ready, and they, therefore, resolved to travel as "independent" characters. In the evening they stopped at a small village, about thirty miles from Paris, and entering the kitchen of a cabaret, they ordered supper; but finding they were objects of notice, Frank directed Sambo to tune his violin, and he chanted forth a chansonette with much taste and feeling, to the great gratification of several young demoiselles, who honoured the performance with applause, and pronounced it "bien bon!" Sambo next struck up a lively tune, and footing it first to one and then to another, the company caught up the humour, and to dancing they went with great glee. Frank, selecting a pretty little girl for a partner, joined in the sport; and Ben, in short, quilted, red petticoats, nearly up to his knees--his stout sustainers covered with blue worsted stockings and heavy sabots--with a tight-fitting woman's jacket and red neckerchief as a body-dress, and his pipe raised in the air, footed it merrily enough to Sambo and his violin. Frank, in a jacket with silver lace on the collar and cuffs, and diminutive worsted epaulettes on the shoulders--striped gingham trousers, and a tri-color sash round his loins, wheeled with grace and agility through the mazy figures with his beautiful little partner. She was tastefully arrayed in a white frock, embroidered with flowers, (for it was the festival of her tutelar saint,) and her hair was wreathed with vine-leaves, jasmine, and roses. Several young females, who had come to visit her on the occasion, were clad in their best attire, and, as a matter of course, the youths of the neighbourhood had joined them after their day's labour; and now they were all in motion, till dark night put an end to the revelry; and the trio, accommodated in a barn, soon forgot their cares and their pleasures in sweet, refreshing sleep. The next morning the three quitted the cabaret--at the door they were accosted by a gendarme; but the youth told his ready tale, showed his papers, and they received no further molestation. Numerous were their adventures as they progressed--sometimes in extreme danger of detection--at others, enjoying themselves in perfect confidence. Two days they passed in the woods without food, journeying only by night. [Illustration: Frank, Ben, and Sambo, amusing the Natives. London, Tilt & Bogue, 86 Fleet Street.] At length they abandoned the direct road, and kept away to the left for the coast; hoping to reach some place in the neighbourhood of Blankenberg, a fishing village on the sea-shore. This they accomplished, and arrived about midnight on the beach, which they crept along, at some distance from the vessels, lest they should be detected. Not a boat to suit their purpose could they find at liberty--all were fast secured by chains, and their oars removed, as if some such visitation as the present had been feared. In this dilemma they cautiously returned to the village, and searched amongst the cottages; but here they were again doomed to disappointment, and were about to retreat to some place of concealment till the following night, when the sound of voices was heard in a small cabin, and Frank, stealthily approaching to listen, at length got near enough to a chink in the window to see the interior, and ascertained that an Englishman, with two females, was endeavouring, by the offer of a considerable sum, to bribe three or four fishermen to convey them either to Holland or to England. The men at first seemed disinclined to listen to any proposals that might bring upon them the vengeance of the police, and they talked of surrendering them to the authorities. "That will at once seal my doom!" exclaimed the Englishman, in agony. "Have not the wretches denounced me, because of the money they owed me, and their base designs upon my child? Oh, God! do thou appear for me in this trying moment!" The fishermen consulted together in whispers, whilst the females clung to the Englishman; and Frank ascertained by their discourse that the elder lady was the wife, and the younger the daughter, of the man. Again the latter earnestly urged his appeal to their generosity, their humanity, and every better principle of human nature--the ladies, too, joined their entreaties. Frank was half-tempted to the hazardous experiment of bringing up his companions and forcing them into compliance. At length the fishermen consented to embark them for Holland, or any place occupied by the Allies, on condition that they gave up all the money and every valuable in their possession previously to their departure, and insured a still further sum on reaching a place of safety. Elated at the prospect of escape, the terms were immediately complied with; and now Frank became aware of the extreme danger he should have incurred had he attempted to attack them, for whilst the Englishman and the females were divesting themselves of their cash and every valuable they had, three other athletic men came from an inner apartment--making seven in all--to claim their share of the spoil. As soon as the division had taken place, they departed to launch their boat, commanding the Englishman and the ladies to remain quietly in the cottage till they were sent for. Frank concealed himself in an adjacent shed, occupied by his companions, till they were gone. "It's all plain enough, young gen'l'man," whispered Ben; "they will get the great vessel afloat--come ashore in the punt for the passengers--we must seize on her, shove off, and capture the big craft--then take the ladies on board, and make sail for the North Foreland--though the wind is dead again us; but what's the odds--" "That," interrupted Frank, "could only be effected by leaving our countryman and the ladies behind; an idea I will not for one moment entertain. Remain here--if I want you, I will whistle--then come without delay." The youth returned to the cottage, and addressing the gentleman in French, he acknowledged that he had overheard their scheme, and earnestly implored him to permit himself, a female servant, and a negro, to embark in the same vessel, provided they could gain the consent of the crew. The gentleman steadfastly refused--"he would not endanger his own safety by acceding to it." Rather mortified at being thus harshly treated--especially as he knew that he might ensure his own safety by leaving them behind--Frank would have answered indignantly, but he preferred remonstrance, avowed himself a royalist desirous of joining the Allies, and assured him that no danger could occur by giving his consent. The man continued inflexible, till the ladies, won by the youth's earnestness, interceded, and an unwilling assent was obtained. The light of coming day had become visible when one of the fishermen returned, and great was his apparent vexation to find other suppliants for a passage in the vessel. However, he offered but slight objection, and in a few minutes they were all down on the beach. Here a difficulty arose as to their embarkation. The punt would carry no more than two passengers beside the men that pulled, and the gentleman was unwilling to leave either his wife or his daughter behind, nor would the females consent to go without him. "Do not fear," said one of the fishermen. "Time is precious with us--we ought to be all on board now; and rely upon it we are not such fools as to leave any one behind to betray our movements." The latter argument was the most conclusive, and the gentleman embarked with his wife, leaving his daughter to the care of Frank, who spoke soothingly to her, and tried to allay her alarm; he took off his jacket and wrapped it round her shoulders, as a protection from the cold air, and in her fear she clung to his arm whilst he supported her. The punt was not long away--all were soon aboard--the anchor was weighed, and they hauled off from the shore. The father with the females took up his station abaft, whilst Frank and his party occupied the midships, and the seaman and the negro were soon fast asleep; but the young midshipman's thoughts were too pleasantly occupied by his escape, and the prospects of an interview with his mother, to compose himself to slumber. Another object too now presented itself; it was the fair young creature who had so confidingly clung to him on the beach. However, to prevent observation, and the better to indulge in meditation, he closed his eyes, and pretended to be oblivious to all that passed. Whilst thus reclining, he overheard a sort of muttered conversation between two of the fishermen which, though he could only catch disjointed sentences, apprised him that treachery was at work; and he now readily understood the reason that greater obstruction had not been offered to the embarkation. The crew doubted the promise to receive further recompense, and expecting to be rewarded for delivering them up as prisoners, had come to the determination of making for a French port. Frank's ears tingled whilst listening to this avowal of abominable treachery, but he cautiously abstained from exciting any suspicion that he was aware of their designs. He determined to watch them narrowly, and when opportunity offered, he got close to Ben, who, on making a tack to windward, had roused up, and without mentioning particulars, told him "they were betrayed unless they could master the crew, and directed him to be ready for an attack at a moment's warning." He then briefly conveyed a similar communication to Sambo, and vainly tried to catch the eye of the gentleman abaft for the purpose of inciting him to wariness. The breeze was to the northward, with a lee tide running, so that, though apparently working to windward between the sands and the shore, they were rapidly drifting down towards Ostend, which was then in the hands of the French. Ben comprehended the whole of this in an instant, and saw, what the others, from their want of nautical knowledge, did not observe, that the helmsman frequently edged off from the wind, so as to facilitate their approach to Ostend, which was soon upon their lee-bow, and the boat standing for the harbour. The gentleman, wholly insensible to the danger which threatened them, sat between his wife and daughter, and was speaking words of cheering import, relative to their being rescued from the enemy, and the prospect of soon enjoying the comforts of their native land. Everything was perfectly tranquil in the vessel, which was lightly dancing over the smooth waters and breaking the sun-light upon its surface. He also remarked upon the quietude of their fellow-passengers, and even ventured a joke upon the apparently solid countenance of the Dutchwoman, when suddenly--in an instant, as if madness ruled the moment, they saw her spring to her feet, and, grasping the pump-brake in her hand, she flourished it right and left, laying a fisherman prostrate at every blow. Sambo also grappled an opponent, whom he lifted over the gunwale, hurled into the sea and then attacked another, whilst Frank rushed aft to the steersman, shouting to the gentleman, "We are Englishmen, it is a French port under our lee, and we are betrayed; for the sake of those you love--hurrah!--do not remain inactive." Nothing could exceed the amazement of the gentleman at this wholly unexpected occurrence, and his astonishment was still more increased when the supposed Dutchwoman, came bounding aft, flourishing her weapon, and shouting in the nautical language of his native land, as he hurled the steersman from his place,--"Ware hause, you lubber--what's the odds, so as you're happy?" and taking the tiller, he put the vessel right before the wind. "Bear a hand, Master Frank," continued Ben, "and keep her as she goes: and I'm saying, ould gentleman, jist you show yourself smart, and let 'em know as you've a little English blood in your veins. Hurrah!--what's the odds?"--and again he rushed forward to assist Sambo, who was stoutly contesting it with his foes. British prowess triumphed--the struggle, though severe, did not last long--the Blankenbergers were conquered; the punt was cast adrift for those who were swimming--the remainder were bound hand and foot; the sails were trimmed to stand off from the land; and great indeed was the gratitude of the husband and the father, and still more delightful were the acknowledgments of the ladies, when they ascertained the great service that had been rendered to them. Mutual explanations ensued--hearty congratulations were given; and in the afternoon they fell in with an English brig which received them all on board. The fishermen, after a sound rope's-ending for their treachery, had their vessel restored; and the rescued party were the next morning gratified by entering the river Thames. [Illustration] THE MUFFIN-MAN A little man who muffins sold, When I was little too, Carried a face of giant mould, But tall he never grew. His arms were legs for strength and size, His coat-tail touch'd his heels; His brows were forests o'er his eyes, His voice like waggon-wheels. When fallen leaves together flock, And gusts begin to squall, And suns go down at six o'clock, You heard his muffin call. Born in the equinoctial blast, He came and shook his bell; And with the equinox he pass'd, But whither none could tell. Some thought the monster turn'd to dew, When muffins ceased to reign, And lay in buds the summer through Till muffin-time again. Or Satyr, used the woods to rove, Or ev'n old Caliban; Drawn by the lure of oven-stove To be a muffin-man. The dwarf was not a churlish elf, Who thought folks stared to scoff; But used deformity itself To set his muffins off. He stood at doors, and talk'd with cooks, While strangers took his span, And grimly smiled with childhood's looks At him, the muffin-man. When others fled from nipping frost, And fled from drenching skies, And when in fogs the street was lost, You saw his figure rise. One night his tinkle did not sound, He fail'd each 'custom'd door; 'Twas first of an eternal round Of nights he walk'd no more. When, borne in arms, my infant eye The restless search began, The nursery-maid was wont to cry, "See John, the muffin-man!" My path, with things familiar spread, Death's foot had seldom cross'd; And when they said that John was dead, I stood in wonder lost. New muffin-men from lamp to lamp, With careless glance I scan; For none can ever raze thy stamp, Oh John, thou muffin-man! Thou standest snatch'd from time and storm, A statue of the soul; And round thy carved and goblin form, Past days--past days unroll. We will not part--Affection dim This song shall help to fan; And Memory, firmer bound to him, Shall keep her Muffin-man. A TIGER-HUNT IN ENGLAND. "Who has let loose my tiger?" demanded Sir Pimpleton Pettibones of his butler, whom he had summoned to the breakfast parlour by the sound of the bell in a manner that indicated great impatience. "Who has dared to let him loose? I locked him up last night for robbing the larder, and this morning he is missing; where is he?" The butler obsequiously bowed. "Extremely sorry, Sir Pimpleton; but really, Sir Pimpleton, I am ignorant and innocent of the whole affair." "Somebody must have let him out," responded the irascible baronet, "and I shall be too late for the meet. Let search be instantly made--such a tiger as that is not to be caught every day." The butler bowed and withdrew; whilst his master, arrayed in a scarlet hunting-coat, sat down to his repast, venting imprecations upon the tiger, whom he declared it was his determination to catch before he should accomplish further mischief. This happened at a beautiful mansion in Kent, whither Sir Pimpleton had gone down for the hunting season, taking his tiger (who was a great favourite) with him. Whilst the search was still in progress, word was brought to the baronet that the "creature" had been seen early that morning in the stable-yard, and a beautiful swift-footed pony was missing, which--as the tiger had shown great partiality to horse-flesh--it was supposed he had made away with. "Hillio--hillio!--quick--saddle every horse in the stables," shouted the baronet, "we'll scour the country--the game is up--hark forward--hark forward!--yoicks, tally ho!" and away he went with grooms and keepers down to the stalls, where he himself saddled his best hunter, and in a few minutes he was flying away across the park, with a long straggling tail like a comet after him, towards the village. "Have you seen my tiger?" demanded the baronet, reining up his gallant steed in front of the Pettibones Arms, and addressing the landlord--a red, platter-faced man of some seventeen stone; "have you seen him? he broke cover and stole away this morning--he must be prowling somewhere about--have you seen him?" "Lor love yer honour, no," responded mine host, with a grin of astonishment and stupidity. "Them tigers are thirsty sowls; but he's never been here to drink." "Hillio, hillio!" shouted Sir Pimpleton, as his attendants came riding up, "handle your whips and follow me;" and dismounting, he entered the hostelry, where the good dame was busy in culinary operations. "Where's my tiger?" was again the cry. "He's crouching somewhere here." "Now laws ha' mercy upon us, I hope not, yer honour!" exclaimed the old dame in dreadful alarm. "What, a real tiger, yer honour? Be em a live un or a stuffed un?" "Fool!" vociferated the baronet, "a live one to be sure, with large goggle eyes and a fang tooth. I must find his lair." The entire premises were examined, but the tiger was not there. "To horse, to horse," commanded the baronet, to the great relief of the old lady; "and hark ye, dame, if he should come here, shut him up directly, and let me know. Away, my men, away." Sir Pimpleton rushed forth, mounted his horse, and away he scoured like a madman, or what is next of kin to a madman, a break-neck squire. "Jeames, Jeames," called the hostess as soon as the cavalcade had departed, "come in, Jeames, fasten the door, and get thees blunderbusk, and load un wi' bullocks" (bullets probably), "and if so be the crittur comes this way, shoot un, Jeames--shoot un without benefit of clargy." On rode the baronet full pelt, and tailing after him followed half-a-dozen attendants in scarlet coats and black velvet caps. The coverts were tried, every nook was searched, but without effect, and they soon afterwards entered another village. "My tiger! my tiger!" exclaimed the baronet as he burst into the first cottage, which contained a female with five or six children playing and sprawling about the floor. "Have you seen the tiger? he has broke loose, and cannot be far off." "The tiger!" repeated the woman, terribly alarmed for the safety of her infants, which she speedily gathered up and thrust into a capacious closet. "Oh dear, what shall we do!" The cottage was searched, as were also several others, to the great consternation of the villagers. Then arose the cries of mothers for "Johnnies" and "Billies" and "Kitties" and "Sukies" and "Tommies," to collect the stray lambs of the fold, or, in other words, the toddling children that were playing on the green; and in a few minutes not a soul of that population was to be seen. A turnpike was close at hand, and thither Sir Pimpleton galloped; and after a few words with the 'pikeman, his sonorous voice was heard. "Hillio--hillio!--stole away--hark forward--hark forward!" and clapping spurs to his steed, onwards they pressed, flying over hedges and ditches to make a short cut. Now it so happened that the hounds of a neighbouring squire were out, and as the muster at the meet was pretty strong, and Sir Pimpleton was well known for an eccentric, several members of the hunt rode up and inquired "what game they had started?" "A tiger! a tiger!" shouted the baronet; "we're hard upon him--hark forward--yoicks--tally ho!" A tiger-hunt in England was something new in the annals of sporting; and though they thought it strange to chase the animal without dogs, yet they were aware that Sir Pimpleton had passed many years in the East Indies, and probably accustomed to the sport, they concluded it was "all right;" and desirous of witnessing the novelty, many joined in the pursuit, amongst whom was the master of the hounds and his pack. The cavalcade drew near a large town, and in they dashed, the baronet still shouting, out of breath, "The tiger!--the tiger! Have you seen my Ben--g-g-gal?" The words were quickly caught up; and the announcement that a fierce Bengal tiger was adrift in the town spread like wildfire. The tradesmen shut up their shops; the inhabitants fastened their doors; there was a brief running to and fro in terror, but the streets were speedily cleared; and from many an up-stairs window was protruded a blunderbuss, a fowling-piece, or a pistol, the proprietors of which were eagerly intent upon destroying the furious animal, though some few even thus elevated scarcely considered themselves safe from his bound. The cry of the hounds, the shouting of the hunters, the rattling of horses' hoofs upon the stones, and the wailings of women, with the cheers of the men, produced a clamour such as had never before been heard in that place. Mothers clasped their children and concealed them in beaufets, or turned them up in press-bedsteads--fathers armed themselves with defensive weapons, and a body of volunteers mustered in the inn yard with loaded muskets, taking good care however to keep the gates shut. "Have you seen the tiger?" was still the cry; and Sir Pimpleton having obtained some information, "Stole away--hark forward," was again the word. They shot up Shooter's-hill without stopping to breathe, and when on the brow, an animal, with apparently a blood-red back, was seen scouring towards Blackheath. The baronet, with the lungs of a northerly gale, uttered the "view halloo," which was caught up and repeated by the rest. The hounds gave tongue and made play. It was a beautiful burst. The whip and spur were plied. The steeds, though jaded, knew well by instinct that the "warmint" was in sight, and kept up their speed, and down the hill they swept like a mountain torrent. But the tiger was not to be easily caught. There was no jungle or hollow to hide in, and away he scudded over the heath with great velocity, as if sensible that the enemy was behind him. Once he was missed, and it was supposed had run to earth in a sand-pit; but the next moment he was seen on the other side climbing the bank to shorten his distance, and in a few minutes he was over the brow of the hill past the Green Man, and descending at a tremendous rate. The hunters followed hard upon him, the hounds in full cry, and again rose the shout from a dozen voices--"The tiger! the tiger!" But the tiger had disappeared amongst the horses, and they had now no clue to his advance, except from the amazed spectators, who hastily cleared the road at the novel and somewhat alarming spectacle. "The tiger! the chase!" exclaimed Sir Pimpleton. Three or four hands were extended to point out the direction he had taken; and those who had not "dropped off" still followed the hounds. Away they rattled through the Broadway, Deptford, amidst cries and cheers of "Go it, you'll catch him directly. Hurrah!" And they once more caught sight of the tiger on the line of road towards New Cross. Cheerily again sounded the "view halloo,"--the animal seemed to be sensible that his pursuers were spurring in hot haste after him--the turnpike-men enjoyed the sport and threw open their gates--hounds and horses, and men rattled through--the Bricklayers' Arms, the Elephant and Castle, Westminster-bridge, saw them rush past like a whirlwind, the tiger still in advance; nor did the chase cease till the baronet's town mansion, close to St. James's Park, was reached. A reeking pony stood at the door, which was open. Sir Pimpleton dismounted, cheering the hunters on--the game was all alive; the whole threw themselves from their horses, and hounds and men following, the baronet bounced into the drawing-room, where Lady Pettibones was receiving morning visits from dashing young spinsters and elderly dowagers. "The tiger--my tiger," exclaimed Sir Pimpleton, in a wild and loud voice, "he has broke loose, and is now in the house." Dreadful was the consternation at this announcement--a mouse crossing the floor would have been terrific, but to have a savage and sanguinary tiger ranging about, the thought was horrible. Shrieks and screams abounded--some ladies threw themselves into the arms of the gentlemen, others ran hurriedly about, and many, in their terror, could not distinguish between the ferocious animal and a hound, so as to tell "vich vos the tiger and vich vos the dog." At length, one of the whippers-in rushed through the door-way, exclaiming "We've got him, your honour, they're bringing him along." The confusion grew tenfold. Screams and shrieks mingled with the loud cheers of the hunters, and the mouthing of the hounds, when a couple of grooms appeared, dragging in a diminutive being in a scarlet jacket, buckskin tights, and white top-boots, with several dirty and ragged fish hanging by a long string in his hand; they placed him in the middle of the floor right before the baronet, and it was with difficulty that the hounds could be kept off. "You rascal," vociferated Sir Pimpleton, raising his whip, "what do you mean by leading me such a dance! Didn't I lock you up for thieving--didn't I?" "Vy yes, your honour," responded this perfect miniature of man; "but afore that, you ordered me to carry a bundle o' red-herrings to town, and give this here letter to deliver to her ladyship, and, when I came back, to bring down the cab; so I only obeyed orders." He held up the letter, and whilst trying to conceal the tattered fish, he looked smirkingly in the baronet's face, and added, "I say, your honour, that 'ere pony's worth his weight in gowld." "Be off then, and take every care of him," said the more appeased baronet, looking at the fish and laughing. The lad, winking at the grooms, waited for no further orders. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," continued Sir Pimpleton, "that is Ben Gall, my tiger. Men, take off the hounds; we have had a capital run, gentlemen, which, no doubt, must have given you good appetites. Your horses shall have every attention--refreshment shall be immediately brought up for yourselves--a bumper of brandy round shall open the entertainment, and since we are all here together, why we'll wind up the day like true sons of Nimrod after an English TIGER HUNT." OMNIBUS CHAT. Our monthly chat commences with a short dissertation on a very ample topic-- INGENIOUS ROGUERIES. It may be remarked by any one who chooses to note the fact, that the most ingenious rogueries are seldom those which succeed best. The deep-laid scheme will often explode of itself; the right hand that never lost its cunning will sometimes miss its reward; the genius of knavery will walk barefoot, with an appetite as keen as itself; while the common bungler, the blundering rascal, the scoundrel who is idiot also, shall succeed in all his stupid, shallow, contemptible designs, and ride home to dinner quite convinced that, though not strictly honest, he is astonishingly clever, or _talented_--for that is, in these cases, the more orthodox word. It is not the most skilful burglar that safely worms his way to the butler's pantry, or insinuates with most success his hand into the plate-chest; nor is it the most dexterous picker of pockets who is permitted longest to ply his art, or earliest retires upon a Pelion of purses piled upon an Ossa of bandannas. The blockheads in this, as in some other professions, often carry off the palm. "Whom the gods love die young." The thief of high and cultivated talent, the swindler of fine taste and exquisite discernment, is frequently destined to suffer early the fate which considerably later overtakes the fool. Somehow the world does not do justice even to its rogues. It refuses to be taken in by the profound rascal, while it readily falls a victim to the veriest dunce in the great School for Scoundrels. While we see so many expert horsemen breaking the necks of their nags, or throwing involuntary summersets;--while we observe how extremely careful, and how eminently well skilled, is every captain of every steamer that happens to figure in a horrible collision in broad daylight;--while we are called upon to bear witness to the excessive caution and singular scientific proficiency of every soul associated with a railway; and have to notice besides that all their care, and all their science, has invariably been exercised whenever a frightful accident may have happened upon their beat;--these failures of roguish talent, and misfortunes of accomplished knavery, cease to be peculiarly wonderful. This remark has been suggested by observing the signal failure of a rather ingenious device, put forth in the form of an advertisement in some of the daily papers. It is an invitation to everybody who may chance to possess "unstamped receipts" for sums above £5, to communicate with the advertiser, who is, of course, to reward the production of such documents! Any simple person would suppose--as there are very droll specimens of collectors yet alive--more curious by far than any of the curiosities they collect--collectors of turnpike tickets, and of complete sets of checks for readmission to the Opera for eleven successive seasons!--that here was a gentleman who had taken a fancy for collecting a perfect set of unstamped receipts from the year 1800 to the present time. A little reflection, however, would show that his object _might_ be to lay informations against the parties who had signed them. The design has been penetrated into still further; for it appears that all parties showing such receipts put themselves in the power of the advertiser, as being equally liable with the signers for accepting them unstamped! Yes, we are bound to say that here was considerable ingenuity exercised. Here was a stone flung that seemed sure to kill two birds. The possessor of such a document was more than likely to be tempted to show it, by the reward of one sovereign; which the other party could well afford to pay out of the many sovereigns extracted in the shape of penalty from the said producer's pocket--to say nothing of the same amount drawn from the signer of the receipt. Since the coaxing cry of "Biddy, come and be killed" was first raised, no more seductive snare has been conceived. "I have assembled you," said the considerate proprietor of live stock in the story, "I have assembled you, my pretty birds, to learn from you what sauce you would like to be eaten with." "But we don't want to be eaten," said the birds with one voice. "You wander from the point," was the answer. So, perhaps, would the collector of unstamped receipts have said to the producers. "I have assembled you here to know what you would like to pay me in lieu of the penalty you have incurred." "But we don't want to pay any penalty." "You wander from the point." We have all heard the most scandalous and groundless stories about lawyers;--of opinions delivered concerning the genuineness of a half sovereign, followed by the deduction of six-and-eightpence for the advice;--of thirteen-and-fourpence charged for "attending, consulting, and advising," when the occasion was a splendid dinner given by the client--followed by a demand on the angry client's part for wine had and consumed--and this succeeded in turn by an information against the said client for selling wine without a licence. These, and a thousand such libels, we can all remember; but the reality above recorded is at least as striking as the most ingenious of such fictions. To contrast with the non-success of this wily experiment upon a grand scale, we may cite an instance of equal ingenuity, exercised in a much humbler walk, and taking the form of knavery in its mixed character. We distinctly remember it to have happened. The scene may be a seaport, or the banks of the Thames below bridge. A seaman, bearing a huge stone bottle, applies at the Nelson's Head for a gallon of whisky for Captain Rope of the Matilda, lying off shore--to fill up the bottle already half full. The spirit is duly poured in, and the cash demanded. "Oh! the capp'n said nothen about that"--the whisky was to be added to his account, and that was all he knew. But "mine host" did not know the captain well enough, and couldn't let the whisky go. The gallon was therefore poured back again into the landlord's measure, and set aside to be called for. So far there appeared to be no knavery at all; but the spirit so poured back, presently turned out to be, not whisky, but excellent _one-water grog_; for the two-gallon bottle of the sailor contained exactly one gallon of pure water when it was brought in, and one gallon of pure whisky and water when it was taken out. The means in this, as in myriads of cases, are curiously disproportioned to the end. How miserably poor is the prize, considered in reference to the risk; to the cleverness in the invention of the stratagem; to the address demanded for the due execution of it, to the time consumed, the trouble taken, the agencies employed! But the truth is, that the very cleverest rascals are rarely more than half-cunning. The ablest of knaves must be at best half a blockhead. When we remember how the great Bardolph, having stolen a lute-case, "carried it twelve miles and sold it for three half-pence," the perilous, profitless, toilsome, half-witted nature of roguery needs no illustration. One would like to have seen him walking back, thirsty and way-wearied, under a broiling sun, and never sure but that the lady who once owned the lute-case might be walking that way too! That famous exploit of Master Bardolph's ought to be registered in large letters over every judgment-seat, and on the door of every police-office. The record would save much judicial breath, and supersede volumes of admonition. * * * * * Shakspeare's illustrations of Vice might possibly have led us into a dissertation at least as long upon Shakspeare's illustrations of Virtue, but that the learned Dr. Bulgardo here honoured our humble vehicle with his presence, and called general attention to a contrast equally striking, under the following title:-- THE SISTER SCIENCES; OR, BOTANY AND HORTICULTURE. By DR. BULGARDO, L. S. D., Treasurer of several Learned Societies, and Professor of Asparagus at the University of Battersea. BOTANY. TO MARY, WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. Nay! say not faded--'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They ne'er can hope to equal thee! The Rose's joyous blush has fled, With which no other lip could vie; The Heartsease turns aside its head, Fearing to meet thy deep-blue eye. More sad the Myrtle's hue appears, The Jasmine's silver star is dim; Surpass'd by thee, thou seest the tears That tremble on the Harebell's brim. The Woodland Lily's silver cup Was never seen to droop as now, It dares not lift its flowerets up To gaze upon thy gentle brow. How canst thou look thus calmly on, And watch them slowly die the while? Recal them yet, ere life be gone, Enchantress, with thy sunny smile! HORTICULTURE. TO MOLLY, WITH A BASKET OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES. Nay! say not shrivell'd--'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They'll ne'er be relish'd, love, like thee! A deeper blush the Raspberry paints, Pale is the ruddy Beetroot's lip; And e'en the red-cheek'd Apple faints, As though it suffer'd from the pip. Severely frown the Baking Pears; The Artichoke's bold crest is down; The awe-struck Medlar wildly stares To see thy cheek a swarthier brown. The icy Cucumber is hot, The freckled Cauliflower wan; The Mushroom has no longer got A single leg to stand upon! See how the rich, round-shoulder'd Figs Bow to thy figure's graceful swell; The sobbing Orange bursts its pigs To find thee such a Nonpareil! The Sister Sciences, female Siamese twins, having vanished from the scene, our correspondent, Mr. H. G. Adams, presented a second specimen of his curious PHOTOGENIC PICTURES: A SCENE NEAR FOLKSTONE. [Folkstone was made, says tradition, of the "odds and ends" left after the rest of the world was finished; and any one who has visited that jumble of heights and hollows, becomes impressed with the conviction that tradition sometimes speaks the truth.] Some weather-beaten men with clothes all tar-ry, Keeping a sharp look-out upon the ocean, And little Tom, and Jack, and Bill, and Harry, Making upon the beach a dire commotion,-- Dabbling, like dab-chicks, in the billows briny, Hunting for crabs, and other things crustaceous, While a Newfoundland dog, in sport called "Tiny," Wags his huge bushy tail, and looks sagacious: Here wades a shrimper to his waist in water, There swims a bather, snorting like a grampus; And lo! James Muddle, with his wife and daughter, All in a boat, and crying out, "Don't swamp us!" Far in the offing you may see a cutter, Her white sails gleaming like the sea-gull's pinions,-- She means to overhaul that craft, with butter Laden, and cheese, from swampy Scheldt's dominions; I shouldn't wonder if _Schiedam_--however, That's not my business;--turn our glances landward, There's Farley in his garden--well, I never!-- A-talking down the chimney, to my landlord; He says, "I see you've got some greens for dinner, "And pickled pork," but can't say more for coughing; That smoke just serves him right--the prying sinner! He's always jeering folks, and at them scoffing: White cliffs, and houses, underneath and over, And roads that seem to lead to regions airy-- Old boats converted into roofs, that cover Buildings, in shape and size that greatly vary, Denote the place, which popular believings Point out as being made of ends and leavings. Here we were reminded by a particularly ample, and unprecedentedly flaring wood-cut, borne on an appropriate pole past the vehicle, and intended to describe the indescribable effects of the fireworks in the Surrey Zoological Gardens, of a pleasant discourse which we overheard in that suburban retreat. "Quite a gem," cried a lady from Portland Place, contemplating the splendid pictorial model of Rome; "really quite a monument of the artist's abilities." "I see _St. Paul's_," said a lady from Shadwell, who was standing by, looking at the same time at the crowning feature of the picture, "I see St. Paul's quite plain, but _where's the Monument?_" "How those butcher-boys do ride!" exclaimed an elderly gentleman in the further corner, as one of the blue-frocked fraternity, with basket on arm, and "spur on heel," dashed past at headlong speed. "Ay, sir, they ride sharp enough," replied his next neighbour, whose bronzed features and brawny shoulders bespoke him a son of old Ocean; "but of all the rough-riding I have ever seen, nothing comes up to A NEGRO BOY IN THE WEST INDIES. The negro boys there are the most cunning imps I have ever had to do with. I recollect on my last voyage to Jamaica, while my vessel was lying in St. Anne's bay, I had to go to Port Maria to look for some cargo; and on my way thither, near Ora Cabeça, I came to one of the numerous small rivers that empty themselves into the little bays along the coast--I think it was the Salt Gut. When at some distance, I had observed a negro boy belabouring a mule most heartily; but before I got up he had left off his thumping and dismounted, and now appeared in earnest talk with his beast, which, with fore-legs stretched out firm, and ears laid down, seemed proof against all arguments to induce him to enter the water. Quashie was all animation, and his eyes flashed like fire-flies. "Who--o! you no go ober? Berry well--me bet you fippenny me make you go--No? Why for you no bet?--why for you no go ober?" Here the mule shook his ears to drive off the flies, which almost devour the poor animals in that climate. "Oh! you do bet--berry well--den me try." The young rascal (he was not more than ten years old) disappeared in the bush, and returned in a few seconds with some strips of fan-weed, a few small pebbles, and a branch of the cactus plant. To put three or four pebbles in each of the mule's ears, and tie them up with the fan-weed, was but the work of a minute. He then jumped on the animal's back, turned round, put the plant to his tail, and off they went, as a negro himself would say, "like mad, massa." Into the water they plunged--the little fellow grinning and showing his teeth in perfect ecstasy. Out they got on the other side--head and ears down--tail and heels up--and the boy's arms flying about as if they did not belong to him; and I lost sight of him as he went over the rocky steep at full gallop, where one false step would have precipitated them into the sea beneath, from whence there would have been but small chance of escape. No, no, a butcher's boy is nothing to a negro boy--the one may ride like the deuce, but the other is the very deuce himself riding. "Did you see any more of him, sir?" inquired a young lady opposite. "Yes, madam, about two hours afterwards I reached Port Maria, and in an open space near the stores, there sat, or rather lay, young Quashie eating cakes; and there also stood the mule, eating guinea grass, and looking much more cheerful than when I first saw him at the Salt Gut. 'Well, Quashie,' I said, 'you have got here I see, but which of you won?'--'Quashie win, massa--Quashie never lose.'--'But will he pay?' I inquired.--'Quashie pay himself, massa. You see, Massa Buccra, massa gib Quashie tenpenny-bit for grass for mule. Quashie bet fippenny him make him go ober de Gut--Quashie win--Quashie hab fippenny for cake, mule hab fippenny for grass.'" "Had that defrauded mule, sir," here interposed a stranger, "been born in Ireland a brief while ago, he would have fallen to and devoured the young nigger out of hand, for cheating him of half his grass; that is, he would, if he had ever read the ancient records of that country, and become acquainted with the fact I am about to relate--but stay, perhaps you may relish it better in slip-shod verse." THE TERRIFIC LEGEND OF THE KILKENNY CATS. O'Flyn she was an Irishman, as very well was known, And she lived down by Kilkenny, and she lived there all alone, With only six great large tom-cats as knew their ways about, And ev'ry body else besides she scrup'lously shut out. Oh, very fond o' cats was she--(and whisky too, 'tis said,) She didn't feed 'em very much, but she comb'd 'em well instead; As may be guess'd, these large tom-cats, they didn't get very sleek Upon a combing once a-day, and a "ha'porth" once a-week. Now on one dreary winter's night, O'Flyn she went to bed, The whisky-bottle under her arm, (the whisky in her head,) The six great large tom-cats they sat all in a dismal row, And horridly glared their hungry eyes--their tails wagg'd to and fro At last one grim greymalkin spoke in accents dire to tell, And dreadful were the words which in his awful whisper fell-- When all the other five tom-cats in answer loud did squall, "Let's kill her--and let's eat her--body and bones and all!" Oh horrible! oh terrible! oh deadly tale to tell! When the sun shone in the window-hole all there seem'd still and well; The cats they sat and lick'd their paws, all in a merry ring, _But nothing else within the place looked like a living thing_; Anon they quarrell'd savagely, and spit, and swore, and hollo'd, Till at last these six great large tom-cats they one another swallow'd; And nought but one long tail was left in that once peaceful dwelling, And a very tough one too it was--it's the same as I've been telling. [C. B.] [Illustration: In the Character of Marie Stuart.] MADEMOISELLE RACHEL. Colley Cibber is the best theatrical critic we know, but if he had been asked to describe Rachel, we should fancy him falling into one of his old regrets. 'Could _how_ Rachel spoke be as easily known as _what_ she spoke, then might you see the muse of Racine in her triumph, with all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life and charming her beholders. But, alas! since all this is so far out of the reach of description, how shall I show you Rachel?' The best attempt _we_ have been able to make, is printed on the opposite page. Truth to say, a good portrait, such as one may bind up with one's copy of Racine, is the only tolerable criticism after all. So, gentle reader, there is Rachel for you: and to flatter your national likings, if you have any, she is in the dress of Mary Stuart, though the woes of Mary Stuart are not in Racine. Quiet, earnest, intense, with a look of passion that has its spring in tenderness, that is just the expression she should wear. It pervaded all her performances, because in all of them she was the Woman. There it was, as you see it, when she said for this unhappy _Mary_ that she was ready to go to death, for that all which could bind her to the earth had passed away; and as she said it, there came with its choking denial to her heart a sense of the still living capacity for joy or grief about to be quenched for ever. She wore that look, when, in _Camille_, she recalled the transient and deceitful dream wherein everything had spoken of her lover, and whispered happy issue to her love. It spread its mournful radiance over her face, when, for the wronged and deserted _Hermione_, she told the betrayer that she had loved him in his inconstancy, and with what something surpassing love would she have rewarded his fidelity. Je t'aimais inconstant; qu'aurais-je fait fidèle! Exquisitely perfect, let us say, was that performance of Hermione. Sometimes, it will not be heretical to whisper, her genius nodded or even slept: never here. The _Roxane_ would not suffer her to do justice to her finest qualities: in the _Emilie_ (for she was wilful) she refused herself that justice: in the _Marie Stuart_ she was unequal: in _Camille_, always great undoubtedly, she had yet a very limited range: but in _Hermione_, she achieved a triumph of high and finished art, which will never fade from the recollections of those who witnessed it. It occurs to us, as we write, that it was in this very _Hermione_ the famous Mademoiselle de Champmelé won the heart of Racine himself, who, after the performance, flung himself at her feet in a transport of gratitude, which soon merged into love. Luckless Rachel, that Champmelé should have been beforehand with her. How the poet would have shaken out love and gratitude upon _her_, from every curl of his full-bottomed peruke! You have heard, no doubt, good reader--if you have not seen this accomplished Frenchwoman--that she is a scold, a fury, a womanly Kean, in a constant fret of passion. Do not believe it. Her forte is tenderness: she is much greater in the gentle grasp with which she embraces the whole intention of a part, than in the force with which she gives distinct hits: she is more at home in those emotions we call domestic, than in those which walk away from home on very lofty stilts. How the false notion obtained currency, we do not know. The French critics are men of lively imaginations, and it was perhaps natural that the feeling of that start of surprise with which Rachel broke upon them, should seek to ally itself to the occasionally sudden and terrible, the flighty and impetuous, rather than to the various tenderness and quiet truth which gave the actress her lasting victory. What Rachel was before she was the first actress of France, probably the reader knows. She sold oranges on the Boulevards. Her name was Rachel Felix--an augury of fortune. An early hankering for the stage took her to the GYMNASE in 1837, where she played bad parts badly enough. Not without a gleam of something beyond, however: for Sanson the actor happened to see her there, and thought it worth while to take her into teaching. He cured her of a false accent (she was a Swiss Jewess), and brought her out at the FRANCAIS in 1838, upon a salary of four thousand francs. She took the audience by storm, and her four thousand went up to a hundred and fifty thousand. Long may she flourish, to deserve and to enjoy them. FRIGHTS!--No. II. We now propose to turn to other illustrations of fright familiar to every family, and susceptible of description. Let us take a night-scene, conjured up by a sudden alarm of THIEVES! 'Tis midnight, and "the very houses seem asleep," out-houses and all. The "quiet family" has attained its utmost pitch of quietness. All sleep soundly, where no sound is heard. A breathless hush pervades the domicile. On a sudden, there is a smart crash, a rattling sound, below. This sleeper starts up in bed; that, darts farther under the clothes. "What's that?" is the inward question of everybody. The thought of thieves occurs to each in turn; one is certain that the area-door has been forced open; another is sure that the back-parlour sash has been raised. They lie still, with panting hearts, and listen. Again there is a noise; it is like creaking footsteps on the stairs, or the opening of drawers; then all is silent again, and then the noise is renewed. At last one little quaking Miss ventures half-stifled to whisper, "Sarah, are you awake?" And Sarah faintly answers, "Yes, did you hear that?" and both bury themselves in the bed, and dare not breathe. And then they hear a door open softly, and they utter a low cry of terror; and then in another minute the door of their own room opens, and with a loud scream they start up--only to see their dear good mama with a candle in her hand; but she is pale and frightened, and desires to know if _they_ had made the noise--but they had not; only they distinctly heard somebody getting in at the back-door, or the parlour-window. Then papa commands the whole assembled family "not to be frightened," and shakes dreadfully--with cold--as he looks at his blunderbuss, and avows his determination to proceed down-stairs. And then there is a "hush!" and a general listening. Yes, there _is_ a noise still, and to the stairs he advances; while his better-half lights his way and holds his garments tight to check his desperate enthusiasm; and the eldest daughter hardly ventures beyond the chamber-door, but with astonishing boldness and exemplary daring springs a rattle; and the others hold on each by each, taking fresh fright from one another's fears. What an amount of suffering, dread, terror--is in the bosom of the little quiet family, as down to the scene of danger they creep with tortoise-pace! And what is all this anxiety, this trepidation, this sickness of the heart, for! What has occasioned so terrific a commotion! Perhaps the tongs have fallen down, and the clatter has filled their ears with all sorts of imaginary noises! Perhaps the cat is clawing at a string tied to the latch of the pantry-door; or perhaps the stupid little kitten, having got her tail into the catch of the last new patent mouse-trap, has dragged that excellent invention off the dresser, and is whisking round at intervals in a wearying and vain endeavour to extricate her unprehensile appendage! "Dear me! well I declare how I have been frightening myself!" cries every member of the shivering family; and the very next night, should the very same noises again be heard, the whole frightened family would start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, scream, and spring rattles, exactly as before. Where Fear has once taken possession, Experience does not always make folks wise. [Illustration: "Thieves"!!!] [Illustration: The "Strange Cat".] Let us take for another example of the daily domestic romance-- THE STRANGE CAT. How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! Our elder brother and "the boy" had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail! Not "frightened of cats" were we, for we had a favourite one of our own; but _this_--it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Exeter Change. Their own fears had magnified the "strange cat" into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify _us_--a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the "young master" and the "young man" marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder--the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror! A loud knocking was heard above; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of "Here it comes!" This was, shall we say _enough_?--it was too much; we turned and _flew_ down-stairs--the last "flight" of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs--a clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then? Not a poor half-starved _frightened_ animal leaping over the banisters to get out of _our_ way, and to escape through the garden-door; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing,--but in its place--_this_! [Illustration] This little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized Newfoundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see. [Illustration] A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE. Being at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "THE OLD SAILOR," down to the "Jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired "Will you take a trip this morning, Sir?" "Not if it blows," answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, "I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind." The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could--"Here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind." "It would be on possible to move a-head and no breeze, Sir." "I don't care for that," rejoined the Old Sailor, "I am very timid on the water; but if you're sure there's no danger, and it will be quite calm (it was nearly so), I will venture to take a sail." "Danger!" repeated the veteran somewhat contemptuously, though there was an expression of doubt and suspicion on his countenance that seemed to say "I think you're a gammoning me."--"What danger can there be when there's hardly wind enough to fill the canvas?" After some further conversation relative to the perils of the ocean, which drew forth some scornful glances from the veteran, we embarked in a pretty green boat, with two masts or poles, one sticking up behind and the other near the middle, to which sails were fastened. Whilst Hemptage was loosing what we believe is named the main-sail, the Old Sailor jumped aft to set what he called the "lug mizen," and he was shoving out a pole from the stern, right over the water. We immediately informed the boatman that our companion was "meddling with the things at the other end," and the veteran promptly turned round and exclaimed, "You'd better let that ere alone, Sir. You'll find somut as 'ull puzzle you there." "Avast, old boy!" returned the Old Sailor, laughing; "I've rigged out as many bumkins[6] as you have in my time." "Ay, ay," drawled out the veteran--"hang me if I didn't think so by the cut of your jib--I thought it was all gammon, and you knowed better than to go sailing without wind." "You have belonged to a man-of-war," said the Old Sailor, as we were standing off from the shore. "Why, yes, I've had a spell at it," returned Hemptage somewhat knowingly, "I was in the owld Hyacinth with Tommy Ussher, and a better Captain never walked a ship's quarter-deck. I was with him too in the Ondaunted frigate up the Mediterranean----" "What! were you in her, in Frejus Bay, when Buonaparte embarked for Elba?" inquired the Old Sailor. "Why to be sure I was, and remembers it well enough," returned he with animation. "And the first thing Boney did when he got aboard was to come forud on to the foksle and have a yarn with the foksle men[7]." "What sort of a man was he?" we asked with quickness. "What sort of a man," reiterated the veteran, "why a stout good-looking chap enough, only very swarthy. Them images as the Italian boys brings about is very like, only I never seed him in that little cocked hat." "Why what did he wear then?" inquired we with some eagerness. "Oh he wore a round hat[8]," replied Hemptage, "and he used to lean against the breech of the foksle gun and spin yarns with us for the hour together." "Well!" we thought, "we never shall have done with Boney." We had never drawn him in a round hat, and the temptation was too strong to be resisted--so we have accordingly placed him at the head of this article--and as of course he would have a fashionable beaver, we have given him one of the shape of that period, and placed him in contrast with himself.--Boney _versus_ Boney--cock'd hat against round. It may be said "What's in a hat?" And when upon the head it becomes a rather important question. In many cases the answer would be "not much," but with respect to Napoleon it certainly must be admitted that there was _something_ in it. "But (we asked in continuation of our conversation) how could you talk with Buonaparte--did he speak English?" "O yes, pretty well, considering--very well for him," replied Hemptage, "he mixed a little of his own lingo up with it--but we made it out. During the passage he used very often to come forud, and he told us he liked English sailors, and one had wounded him once at Toulon." Fully aware that the fact of Napoleon's being wounded at Toulon had long been a disputed point, we questioned the man, and received the following statement:-- "Why," said the veteran, "he told us the English made a _sortie_, as they call it, and drove the French before them. Boney run as well as the rest, and an English seaman chaced after him; but whether the man was tired, or thought he'd gone far enough, he didn't know, but he gave him a shove in the starn with his bagonet, and said, 'TAKE THAT, YOU FRENCH LUBBER.' The sailor might have killed him if he had been so disposed, but he acted generously and spared his life. 'And,' says Boney, 'if ever I could have discovered the man who acted so nobly, I would have made him comfortable for life.' The wound was in his thigh." [Illustration] Now had that Jack Tar taken one step further, or have made a deadly thrust, the fate of _Major_ Buonaparte would have been sealed at Toulon, and the world would never have heard of the EMPEROR NAPOLEON. We fancy we hear some of our Hibernian friends exclaiming, "Faith, then, and it's a pity the sailor didn't know that Boney would be after doing so much mischief." Thus conversing and moralising, we finished our "Short cruise at Margate." Hemptage is approaching his seventieth year, and his countenance displays the colours of a thorough seaman. He has been several times wounded, but looking hale and hearty. When paid off he was refused a pension--visitors will find him a pleasant shipmate in a trip--and the lovers of the marvellous may enjoy the satisfaction of conversing with a man who has seen and talked with "a live Bonyparty." FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 6: The bumkin is the spar that projects out from the stern to haul the mizen-sheet home.--_Naval Dictionary._ Here, however, it is probable that a _double entendre_ was meant.] [Footnote 7: In No. CXLIII. of the _United Service Journal_, Sir Thomas Ussher has given an interesting account of the embarkation and conveyance of Napoleon from Frejus to Elba, in which we find the following passage:--"On arriving alongside, I immediately went up the side to receive the Emperor on the quarter-deck. He took his hat off, and bowed to the officers who were assembled on the deck. He then immediately went forward to the forecastle amongst the people, and I found him there talking to some of the men, conversing with those among them who understood a little French."] [Footnote 8: In another part of the same article, in the _United Service Journal_, Sir Thomas Ussher says--"This evening a small trading vessel passed near us, I ordered her to be examined; and as Napoleon was anxious to know the news, I desired the Captain to be sent on board. Napoleon was on the quarter-deck--he had a great coat and round hat on." At another place, after their arrival at Elba--"At eight, the Emperor asked me for a boat, as he intended taking a walk on the opposite side of the bay. He wore a great coat and a round hat."] EPIGRAMS. "Buonaparte was certainly, as Sir John Carr called him, a 'splendid scoundrel,' but he was a scoundrel still."--_Daily Paper._ Not so, for if a scoundrel--doubt who will-- Napoleon was a scoundrel, _never_ still! _Scene_--OUTSIDE OF THE GREYHOUND INN. "You'll take a glass of ale or so? Here's _double X_ upon the door;" "Is there," says John, "then I don't go-- It so reminds me of _a score_!" THE MALADY OF DEBT. Some people often have, they say, What's call'd the "Maladie de pays"-- But Schneider of his customers was saying, _They_ had the malady _of never paying_. C. H. W. PASSIONATE PEOPLE. "So you will fly out! Why can't you be cool like me? What good can passion do? Passion's of no use, you impudent, obstinate, overbearing reprobate."--_Sir Anthony Absolute._ Of all the evils, all the injuries, all the calamities, by which passionate people are liable to be visited, none are so perilous, so overwhelming, as the encounter with a meek, cool, patient, unanswering adversary--if adversary such a wretch can be called. There is no trial in life like this. The bare idea of it puts one out of temper. To be placed, when in the full swing of a violent fit of rage, when indulging to an excess in the wildest transports of the soul, when giving loose to the most riotous emotions of our nature; to be placed at such a juncture right opposite some cold calm personification of indifference, some compound of sadness and tranquillity, with an air of entire submission, with drooping lids, and perhaps a smile not entirely free from _pity_; to see some such person sitting there imperturbably philosophical, putting the best construction possible upon one's violence, and evidently making silent excuses for one's ungovernable fury! I put it to any rational madman--that is to say to any man I know--whether this be not a species of exasperation too great to be borne, and quite enough to make one start off for Niagara, to enjoy the intense satisfaction, the indispensable relief, of jumping down. I wouldn't give one drop of ink for a man who never goes into terrific passions, who never lets his blood boil over, at least now and then; but I should feel peculiar pleasure in hurling any inkstand--the writing-desk would be better--at the head of him whose fury did not instantly become ten thousand times more inflamed by the mere presence of that smooth oily virtue, that "ostentatious meekness," which at once sighs in submissiveness and smiles in superiority. All the mischiefs that arise from the excesses of anger and rage must be conscientiously set down to the account of that provoking passiveness, that calmness which irritates the fiery beholder past endurance. Let the physician, who would minister to the mind diseased, take any shape but that. Who is there that cannot bear testimony to its galling effects from his own observation or experience! Only say to a man in a pet, "Now don't lose your temper," and he falls naturally into a rage; say to one already exasperated, and on the verge of a fit of fury, "Pray don't put yourself into a passion, it's all a mistake, there's nothing to be angry about;" and what so sure to set him off at a pace past stopping! The image of "Patience on a monument smiling at Grief" has been greatly admired, but as a design it would hardly hold together for five minutes. Shakspeare was a little out for once. Patience _smiling_ at Grief! How could Grief stand it! She would be transformed into Rage in no time. If at all in earnest, she must necessarily be provoked to jump down in a paroxysm, or to pitch Patience off the monument. To the truly irritable, and I confess that I am one of them, all such irritation, to say the least of it, is superfluous. To us who have "free souls" no such provocation is wanting at any time. We are always ready to go ahead without this high pressure; our quick blood renders the spur unnecessary. We never wait for "the motive and the cue for passion" that Hamlet speaks of. The real relish and enjoyment of it consists in going into a rage about nothing. The next pleasure to that consists in being roused to fury about other people's affairs; in lashing oneself into madness about some grievance borne by a person who seems perfectly indifferent to it. There are numbers of people who may be thus said to go into passions by proxy. They have experienced a slight, of which they give a cool account to some susceptible friend, who stamps and raves at every word of the narrative. They calmly inform you that they have been shamefully ill-used; upon which they stroke their chins complacently, and leave you to tear your hair. The man who has been cruelly wronged describes with a glib tongue, while the uninjured auditor disinterestedly gnashes his teeth. I have always admired that passage in one of George Colman's plays, where a warm-hearted fellow, giving an account of some flagrant act of oppression to which he had been a witness, observes,--"Well, you know, that wasn't _no affair of mine_; no--and _so I felt all my blood creeping into my knuckles_"--and the result shows that he fell, with exemplary promptitude, into a glorious passion in behalf of the oppressed but uncomplaining stranger. This bit of fiction calls to mind a fact which may with no impropriety be here related. It is an anecdote of a distinguished writer now no more, W. G. He had complained to me of some ungracious conduct, by which he felt hurt and insulted; he was helpless, and this made the sense of injury more acute. He spoke with bitterness, though in gentle tones. I did not echo those tones; for he was illustrious by his intellect, and venerable by his years; and, as the phrase is, I at once "rapped out"--pouring a torrent of reproach, and heaping a mountain of invectives, on the heads of those, who, to use his own words, "had dared to put an indignity upon him." He heard me, very quietly, until the full burst of indignation with which his more moderate complaint had inspired me was exhausted, and then said with an ejaculation short, sharp, and peculiar to him,--"I'm afraid you've been picking up some queer doctrines of late; the principle of them is, as far as I can understand, to be discontented with everything!" Now as _he_ had taught me just then to be discontented, and as I was moreover only discontented on his account, I did _not_ immediately leap out of my fit of passion into one of philosophy; and I believe he was upon that occasion much struck with certain metaphysical phenomena, on which I left him to brood; with the curious distinction, that is to say, between one fellow-creature undergoing the punishment of the knout without exhibiting a symptom of distress, and another fellow-creature looking on, all grief and anguish, shuddering at the spectacle, and feeling every lash on his own heart. These are the most generous bursts of rage that can be indulged in; and, next to those that are altogether destitute even of the shadow of a cause, are the most delicious to the irritable. The wrongs, troubles, and perversities of individuals, from near relatives to total strangers, generally form a plentiful supply; in fact, the smallest offence will be thankfully received, as the history of irascible people amply shows. Very good grounds for anger occur, as we can all remember, when a fellow-traveller at an inn refuses to take mustard with his pork-chop; or when another, in spite of every hint, persists in breaking his eggs at the small end, or lighting his cheroot at the large end; or when a sturdy fellow walks just before you through a smart shower of rain, and won't put his umbrella up, though you obligingly tap him on the shoulder, and remind him that it's pouring; or when an obstinate one declines the adoption of somebody else's opinion, merely because he has not been convinced of its reasonableness; or when an affected one pronounces the word London "Lunnun," and Birmingham "Brummagem," and, while he asserts in his justification that Lord Brougham calls the places by those names, refuses to distinguish his lordship as Lord Bruffham. If individual grievances or peculiarities should fail, which is scarcely possible, national ones will do as well. Nay, I know a philanthropist whose heart was broken fifty times a year, whose blood boiled hourly, at the recollection of some great outrage that had happened in the dark ages. Passion, moreover, has this convenience, that it is an essential privilege of it to reason from the individual to the national; thus, if a Russian government, or a Russian faction, inflict wrongs on Poland, all Russia may be indiscriminately condemned; and thus too, if an American visiting this country should be wanting in good manners, or give you any cause of offence, you can with strict propriety launch out into a tirade against the American people, their customs and institutions, laws and dispositions--wrath will there find "elbow room." You may wind up with the observation that, bad as is the brute whom you have just encountered, you believe him to be quite as good as the very best of his countrymen. This, indeed, may be laid down as a rule; when a Scotchman offends you, abuse all Scotland, and offer to prove that Burns was no poet;--when an Irishman puts you in a heat, be sure to denounce Ireland, and hint that St. Patrick was no gentleman, nor were his ancestors decent people. With an Englishman the case is rather different, because anything you may say against John Bull is pretty sure to please, instead of annoying a member of his family; who won't much mind a back-handed hit at himself, if you direct the principal force of your attack against the national character. It is expedient, therefore, to be less sweeping in your charge, to concentrate your forces, and to content yourself with a small explosion, fatal only to his immediate friends and relations. Point out how remarkable it is that so many persons of the same name should have been hanged for sheep-stealing; question the depth of his breeches-pocket, where he rattles a bunch of keys, as though he had anything to lock up; and pick out some cousin of his who is very badly off, and spitefully ask him to dinner. But you will never vent your rage satisfactorily, by merely abusing Old England in an Englishman's presence. To get into a passion in the street is sometimes peculiarly awkward. It makes you feel like a bottle of soda-water that wants to go off and can't. Some people ought to have their hats wired down, cork-fashion. Walking with an irascible friend the other day--I am fond of such companions, and can boast a great variety of them--he worked himself into as pretty a specimen of fury as I have lately seen; but what was to be done? There was nothing to cause it, and there was no relief to be had. Apple-stalls upset are but vulgar exploits; me, he could not strangle in the open street; there was no temptation to smash a lamp in the broad daylight, however agreeable and comforting at night; there was no loitering schoolboy in the way, to be kicked "for _always_ tieing that shoe;" yet, "as fires imprisoned fiercest burn," out the blaze must burst, the volcano was not to be smothered up. Accordingly, just as we reached the open window of a butcher's shop, on the board of which a lad in blue sleeves, and black, glossy, curling hair, sat intently reading the "Sorrows of Werter," my passionate friend stopped. Whether he meant to snatch, a weapon, à la Virginius, was doubtful. I thought at least he would have snatched the grease-marked volume out of the hands of the sentimental butcher-boy, and trampled it under-foot; when instead, off he darted across the wide street, I following--rushed up to a house opposite, seized the large knocker, and plied it with the combined force of forty footmen, or a legion of penny-postmen rolled into one! I stood, looking on, amazed, while he knocked and knocked, without one moment's cessation, until the door was torn open, and the knocker dropped from his fingers. The servant-maid looked aghast, yet the accustomed spirit of inquiry, Who was he? What _did_ he want? was uppermost in her face. "Oh!" said my now subdued companion, "Oh! ah!-a-I'm sorry to have troubled you! I-a-I don't want anybody--it's all right--thank you--I'm better now!" Thus saying he quietly took my arm, and we sauntered off. I never saw a fellow in a more charming flow of spirits than his were throughout the rest of that day. [Illustration] But it is more judicious to choose a spot where you can fall into a rage comfortably. It is a pity for example to get excited at Charing-cross, merely by the sight of a Dover coach, with the name of the town upon it spelt with two o's, "Dovor." "There goes one of those confounded coaches again," said a companion the other day; "how savage they make me! Do_vor_! Why can't they spell the name properly?" "Oh, what does it signify?"--"Signify! why it's my native town! it puts me in such a passion that I can't walk;" and by the pace at which he went there appeared a probability of his overtaking the coach. As a man intoxicated can run easily, when walking is difficult, so a man in a passion finds similar relief. I have heard of a nervously-excited individual who was so annoyed by the cry of "Bank, Bank" all down the Strand, that he jumped into one of the vehicles, resolved to go to the Bank and draw out his balance; nor did he remember, until he got there, that he had performed that ceremony the day before. What I should respectfully recommend to any one on whom the fit comes suddenly out-of-doors, whether occasioned by some irritating train of thought, or a casual encounter equally provocative, is to go directly home, and give his family the benefit of it. Surely the best compliment he can pay his wife is to presume that her attachment to him is so great that she will endure any ill-usage--that she would rather see him return home in a tremendous passion than have him stay longer away from her. A man who truly relishes his fit of rage will find a sweet relief in making his family uncomfortable. The children he can immediately order up to bed in the dark; and if anything in the shape of protest falls from the doting mother, he can take an opportunity, slyly, of upsetting a vase of flowers, water and all, into her work-box, or of tilting the inkstand upon the favourite autograph in her album. In the case of a single man, who has neither fond parent nor devoted partner to vent his fury on, a theatre is no bad resource; he can take his seat in some quiet corner and hiss the performance,--he will find it very soothing to his feelings; but he should choose, if possible, the first night of a new drama, and be constantly on his guard, or he will be tricked out of all his pleasure by the actors. I know a man who went in a great passion on purpose to hiss a new comedy, but being off his guard, he sat and laughed all the evening. Brutus desires Cassius to "go show his slaves how choleric he is, and make his bondmen tremble;" implying that it was still more vulgar and degrading to go into a passion before servants. This notion prevails amongst a certain class of the choleric to this day. It is not at all uncommon in genteel families, where appearances must at all sacrifices be kept up, for John to be desired to shut the door, and perhaps to be despatched to the remotest part of the house, while his master and mistress sit down to fight out a pitched battle with bated breath; whispering their fierce retorts, and dealing out their virulence _sotto voce_, that it may not reach the kitchen; recrimination, with savage aspect, speaking in the blandest key, and threats of separate maintenance breathing in tones that would have added a delicious tenderness to the fondest sentiment. All of a sudden, perhaps, a violent crash is heard; the lady, who "could bear it no longer," has commenced some sportive sallies with the tea-cups, and the gentleman has promptly followed in some equally lively experiments with the saucers; and John, when in wild alarm he re-enters the apartment, perceives in an instant, as clear as crockery itself, that naughty Dash has _not_ been jumping upon the tea-table, and that it is _not_ that calumniated quadruped by whom the best blue-and-gold service has been devoted to destruction. All these tamperings with passion are great mistakes; there can be no enjoyment but in speaking out, and letting all the world hear if they like. I always admired the unhesitating frankness of that respectable tradesman (I forget his name, purposely) who about nine one summer morning, after "some words" with his lady respecting the comparative merits of Souchong and Mocha, deliberately opened the first floor window, and dashed out the whole breakfast set, tray and all, into one of the leading streets of the metropolis. People, it is said, put up their umbrellas as they pass, to this day, in constant expectation of a milky shower, with small squares of sugar for hailstones. But all such experiments with cups and saucers, glasses, vases, mirrors, &c., are much better performed, for obvious reasons, at other people's houses than at your own. It is very pleasant, and quite pardonable, to sweep a few glasses off the table in a fit of enthusiasm, now and then--when you are dining out; but it is perfectly ridiculous to proceed to such extremities at home, where the modes of venting rage are infinite. For a somewhat similar reason, I differ from those who systematically tear their own hair when they fall into a paroxysm; there is no occasion for it, because you might happen to be wearing a wig, and the effect would be ludicrous. It is far better to thrust your hand desperately into the loose locks of somebody sitting next to you, tearing them violently for the space of an instant, and then apologizing for the wildness of your excitement, and the extreme susceptibility of your feelings. Your sensibility and the frankness of your disposition will find many admirers; but to pull your own hair has at best but an affected and theatrical look. The practice common to many of the choleric--that of taking off their hats, flinging them at the first object they see, and then kicking them, regardless of expense--is one that seems to have arisen out of an instinctive feeling, but until lately it was to be condemned as ruinous to those who fall very frequently into a passion; it is less exceptionable now; the cheap hats are immense conveniences to the choleric. It is better however to snatch a friend's off his head, and set your foot upon it, taking care to pick it up immediately, tenderly putting it into shape a little, brushing its injured nap, and returning it with your unfeigned regrets. I should not omit to mention one ingenious expedient, which is sure to produce a speedy relief to over-excited feelings. It is recommended on authority, as infallible. You should first lock the door of your sitting-room, and then lie down on your back upon the rug before the fire--taking at the same time one of the long bell-ropes in either hand. In this position you will find a little violent pulling very pleasant. But don't leave off, merely because everybody in the house comes rattling at the door, desiring to know, not for their own, but for Heaven's sake, what's the matter. Keep on tugging at both bells, until the door is broken open--you will then come-to quite comfortably. The great have some advantages over the humble, but they lack the luxury of giving a loose to rage at all seasons; they cannot storm and rave at their own sweet will; while the lowest creature committed to prison by the magistrate can always spring from the grasp of the constable and break a window or two. This may seem a poor relief; not so; there is, doubtless, an exquisite satisfaction in knowing that nothing less than a large county must pay the damage. Suppose you only shatter a dozen panes, or effect other wilful injury, is there not something grand in being revenged upon Middlesex, or venting your fury on all Yorkshire? Great or humble, Rage is sweet to all. Anger, not Love, is the universal emotion. The mildest and most even-tempered man I ever met, let out the secret of his fiery disposition the other day, and betrayed the violent passions that sometimes seize him. Complaining of the extreme smallness of his new library, in a figurative style, at once emphatic and elegant, he said, "It isn't large enough to swing a cat in," adding, (evidently with a reference to his habits when under the influence of passion) "_which is very inconvenient_!" Cats are useful animals in a house. Is it doubtful, when Sir Anthony Absolute had stormed at the Captain, and the Captain in consequence had raved at Fag, and Fag in due succession had pummelled the footboy, that the footboy went forthwith and kicked the cat? L. B. OUR NEW COOKS! "Too many cooks"--"the proverb's something musty." We have just had another new Cook; but too sure I am that, like the whole tribe of Cooks that enter our family, she will never pass the boundaries of the cognomen "New Cook." All our Cooks have been _new_. The oldest one we have ever had, in my remembrance, was a prodigy of a month's service in our kitchen; and although it must be confessed that, even during that period, she was twice threatened or _warned_ by my mother, her long stay was astonishing to us all. Compared with her predecessors she was quite a fixture in the house. It would take up "too much room in the Omnibus," to detail one half of the discrepancies of our Cooks. The great Cook who circumnavigated the globe--who traversed seas remote, and explored lands unknown, found no such curiosities among the monsters of the great deep, or the uncivilized eccentrics on shore. One, as my maiden aunt delicately observes, becomes quite "inebriated"--off she goes; another has "followers"--off she goes; another increases her "kitchen stuff" at the expense of the fat of the meat, which she cuts off to a nicety (and my father is particularly fond of fat)--off she goes--another cannot cook a potato--off she goes; another forms a clandestine match with the butler after a week's intimacy--off she goes--he too falling a victim and losing his place. When I say that my mother seldom looks over the first offence, I explain pretty clearly how it is that every week finds us with a new cook. On the day of their engagement my sanguine parent invariably tells us "she has found a treasure;" a cook with such a character--never drinks--no followers--so honest--can cook anything;--such a woman for making "made up" (sometimes called French) dishes, &c. In a few days this treasure of a cook turns out to be, without a single exception, the very worst we ever had to endure (for it rather singularly happens that each in succession is "the very worst").--"Oh, that dreadful woman!" is the cry. She boils what she should roast, and roasts what she should boil; she is a snuff-taker, and almost everything she cooks is supposed to savour of Lundyfoot or Prince's mixture. Off _she_ goes before we find out a fair half of her intolerable propensities. If it be but a chop to serve up, I like it served up in a style that I can depend upon. Underdone or overdone is of less consequence, so that I know beforehand, by experience of the cook's performances, _how_ it will be done. But this continual succession of "treasures" subjects us to a continual series of experiments. If we don't settle soon, the office, so far as our family is concerned, will be in danger of abolition. Already has my distracted mother observed, on five different occasions, each time with deeper emphasis, "I _wish_ it were possible to do _without_ a cook." Yesterday, when this exclamation escaped her, my father, who, excepting in a taste for fat, is a man of very philosophical notions, caught up the note, and said, doubtingly, "My dear, do you consider it to be _quite_ necessary to have a _dinner_ every day!" The last treasure we had only cooked our dinner on one day! She must have been a practitioner in some wholesale cooking establishment; cook to an ordinary on a grand scale, where dinners for a hundred and forty were daily prepared. We had to dine on cold meat for a week after she left us. You must know, that on the first day of her instalment in office, the butcher had been directed (we lived a few miles from town, and at a distance from any market-place) to send us a supply of animal food sufficient to last for about eight days. There were a leg of mutton--a saddle of mutton--a sirloin of beef--a round of beef, and various small nick-nacks for side dishes. Well, my dear credulous mother received the new cook as usual. She found her to be a most enormous treasure; and she can at this day make affidavit, if necessary, that she gave her the proper directions about the dinner. On the day the circumstance I am about to relate took place, we had merely the family at dinner. On entering the dining-room, I observed my mother gently start, as her eye encountered a great number of large dishes round the table. She, however, suppressed her astonishment, took her place at the head of the table (my father never carved), said grace, and was sinking slowly into her chair as the servant raised the first cover. My mother instantly started up, exclaiming, in a tone of alarm, and with turned-up eyes, "Mercy on us! the leg of mutton!" All eyes turned in a moment upon the uncovered mutton, and then on my agitated mother. The servant, after a pause, laid his hand on the second cover, upon which my mother had bent her looks. Up went the cover amidst curling wreaths of steam. "Good gracious! look at the sirloin!" cried my mother. We all looked accordingly at the sirloin, but without discovering in it anything peculiarly different from other sirloins. The removal of the next cover exhibited the round of beef--another exclamation from my mother. We now all commenced staring, first, at the joints, then at my mother, and then at each other. We certainly began to think, when a fourth joint had appeared in view, that there _was_ "something wrong." A pause ensued--my father broke it. "In the name of wonder," said he, "what's the matter?" "O that new cook," answered my mother, with a groan. "What has she _done_?" inquired my father. "_The whole weeks marketing!_" said my mother, sinking into her chair, for she had been standing all this time. "Stupid woman," continued my father, "send her off immediately." "Did you ever hear of such a _dreadful_ creature?" said my mother. "Off she goes the first thing in the morning;" and sure enough our new cook gave place to another new one the very next day. My chief object in taking a trip in the "Omnibus" is the hope of meeting somebody, in the course of its rounds, who may recommend to us some treasure of a cook, likely to suit my mother, and remain with her, say, for a month or two; for this changing once a week worries the life out of me. You all know the proverb that speaks of too many cooks. How true it is in our case! We want _one_, instead of a multitude. I shall not mention the name of the personage who is proverbially said to "send cooks." Perhaps we have already had a protegée or two of his among our professors; but a cook of anybody's sending would be eagerly welcomed by me--so that she would but be a little steady, _and stop_! W. S. A SONG OF CONTRADICTIONS. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. "I am not what I am."--_Iago._ I. The Passions, in festival meeting, I saw seated round, in a dream; And vow, by my hatred of cheating, The Passions are not what they seem. There's mirth under faces the gravest, There's woe under visages droll; There's fear in the breast of the bravest, And light in the desolate soul. II. Thus Joy, in my singular vision, Sat sobbing and gnashing his teeth; While Gentleness scoff'd in derision, And Hope pick'd the buds from his wreath. Despair, her tight bodice unlacing, With laughter seem'd ready to die; And Hate, her companions embracing, Won each with a smile or a sigh. III. There Peace bellow'd louder and louder, For Freedom, sent off to the hulks; Fear sat on a barrel of powder, And Pleasure stood by in the sulks. Here Dignity shoots like a rocket Past Grace, who is rolling in fat; There Probity's picking a pocket, Here Pity sits skinning a cat. IV. Then Temperance reeling off, quite full, Charged Friendship with drugging her draught; _She_ vowed it was Love that was spiteful, While Charity, blaming _all_, laugh'd; When Rage, with the blandest expression, And Vengeance, low-voiced like a child, Cried, "Mercy, forgive the transgression!" But Mercy look'd horribly wild. V. Old Wisdom was worshipping Fashion, And Jollity dozing in gloom; While Meekness was foaming with passion, And Misery danced round the room. Sweet Envy tripp'd off to her garret, Bright Malice smiled worthy of trust, Gay Want was enjoying his claret, And Luxury gnaw'd a dry crust. VI. At Pride, as she served up the dinner, Humility turn'd up her nose; Suspicion shook hands with each sinner, While Candour shunn'd all, as her foes. There's mirth under faces the gravest, There's woe under visages droll, There's fear in the breast of the bravest, And light in the desolate soul! FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER VI. The agitation and distress of Mrs. Heartwell at finding that Frank did not return on the day of the ship-launch may readily be conceived--he was the only stay and hope of her heart. Suspecting the cause of his absence, she set out for the tender at the Tower; but as it was dark night, the sentries would neither allow her to come on board nor render any information, so that she was forced to return unsatisfied. But on the following morning she was again alongside, and learned the fate of her son and the negro, who were then at some distance down the river. This, though it removed her fears for his safety, did not diminish her anxiety for his welfare, nor was it till she received the letter announcing his being placed on the quarter-deck of the Thunderbolt, seventy-four, that she felt relieved from the sickening apprehensions that had almost overwhelmed her. It was about this time that Richard Brothers, the supposed prophet, became extremely popular; and as he had declared that he was commanded by divine authority to proclaim the destruction of the city of London by earthquake and fire, many of his believers who resided within the doomed precincts quitted their habitations, and found temporary abodes outside the proscribed districts: amongst these was a Mr. Baurie, a tradesman of the Strand, who, terrified at the denunciation, at a very considerable sacrifice of business and property, left his house and occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments. Brothers resided in Paddington-street, where he was almost worshipped as the Prince of the Hebrews, and the Deliverer and King of the Jews, who was to restore them to New Jerusalem, and become their ruler; and as there had been some remarkable coincidences connected with his prophecies, thousands of all ranks--even bishops and clergy--visited him, and not a few gave full credence to his absurdities. He frequently called upon Baurie, and, being a lieutenant in the navy, Mrs. Heartwell had more than once or twice conversed with him about her husband. His answers were invariably the same--"Though he be dead, yet shall he live again--though he is lost, yet shall he be found." Ambiguous as this reply may be considered, it encouraged the cherished hope that her husband would be restored to her. Strong as her mind usually was, the mild and gentlemanly manners of the prophet, combined with his upright conduct and undeviating integrity, won upon her feelings; and though she pitied the weakness of his believers, there were times when his observations made a deeper impression upon herself than she liked to acknowledge. Meetings were held in Baurie's apartment, which were attended by numbers of the select--the principal of whom were Brassey Allhead, an intelligent oriental scholar, who had resided many years in India, and now sat as member of Parliament for ----, William Bryan, George Turner, and others, who pretended to see visions, claimed the gift of prophecy, and bore testimony to the authenticity of Brothers's mission--that he was the descendant of King David--the rod that was to come out of the stem of Jesse, &c., &c.: in fact, there only wanted the "unknown tongues," which has since been discovered by the disciples of fanaticism, to render the whole farce perfect in all its parts. The twilight of a summer evening was gradually deepening its shade, when a hackney-coach stopped at Mrs. Heartwell's door, and the servant announced that a strange-looking woman who came in it had endeavoured to force her way into the house, and still remained clamorous to be admitted. Without a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Heartwell went to the hall--the door was re-opened, but the lady could not help retiring back with amazement, when she beheld a stout female, in short Dutch petticoats, wooden shoes, and a peaked-crown hat, who, in spite of the resistance of the servant, immediately and hurriedly advanced towards her. "Who, and what are you?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell. "Keep the woman back, Mary!" The girl caught hold of the intruder's petticoats, but, observing a thick club queue hanging down the female's back, she shouted, "Oh, my! ma'am, she's got a pig-tail!" and let them go again. "What is all this?--who do you want?" demanded the lady, retreating. "Why don't you stop her, Mary?" "Lor', ma'am, I carnt," replied the girl, again catching hold of the petticoats, whilst a well-remembered voice laughingly exclaimed,-- "Bless you, my lady--why, dont you know me? Howsomever I hope I arnt frightened you; but what's the odds so as you're happy?" "Can it indeed be Ben!" said Mrs. Heartwell, in surprise. "But why are you dressed thus?" "Oh, it's a long story, my lady!" replied the seaman; "and I've kept the duds on to circumwent the pressgangs. But I am so happy to see you again." Mrs. Heartwell extended her hand to the worthy tar, and as her child was the first object of her thoughts, she eagerly inquired whether he "had seen or heard anything of Frank." From the answers she elicited, she very soon came to the conclusion that Frank was not far off. "He is here, Ben--I am sure of it. Open the door, Mary--the coach is still waiting--my son!--my son! Merciful Father, I thank thee!" The next minute the youth was in her arms; and Sambo, full of joy at his return, sprang in and caught the servant-girl round the neck, so as to excite something like jealousy in the mind of Ben, who however, in the fulness of delight, cut a few capers of the college hornpipe, exclaiming, "What's the odds, so as you're happy!" and making the hall echo again to the sounds of his wooden shoes. There was pleasure that night at Mrs. Heartwell's, both in the parlour and in the kitchen. In the former Mr. Baurie and family and Mr. Unity Peach, who had called in, witnessed the gratification and anxiety of the mother as Frank recounted his adventures from first to last, not omitting his interview with Brady in the character of a traitorous spy, and stating that the merchant, with his wife and daughter, who had escaped in their company, had gone to an hotel in the neighbourhood. Sambo and Ben in the kitchen enjoyed themselves to their heart's content--the grog was abroach--the pipes sent forth their wreaths of curling smoke--the servants were delighted, and the hour was late before they all departed to their rest. The next morning Frank and his two humble companions were supplied with suitable apparel, and Mrs. Heartwell looked with pride upon the handsome appearance of her son in his uniform, though a sigh would now and then escape as she contemplated the strong resemblance which he bore to his father, and when she thought how soon they must part again. The young midshipman, accompanied by the seaman and the negro, went to the Admiralty and reported their escape to the secretary, who questioned Frank pretty closely relative to what he had witnessed in Paris. During the inquiry a tall, upright, stately gentleman entered the room, and not only remained to listen to the conversation, but put several questions to the youth, and seemed satisfied with the ready and pleasing manner in which they were answered. He was then directed to call the next day, and instructions would be given to him for their future proceedings. Frank was quitting the Admiralty gates, when a government messenger tapped him on the shoulder and an officer took him into custody. Ben and the black would have resisted; but the youth desired them to desist, and, conscious of innocence of any crime, cheerfully accompanied the messenger, followed at a little distance by Sambo and the seaman. The whole had been done so quietly that no bustle was excited, and they were soon in the Home-office at Downing Street, and Frank was summoned into the presence of Mr. Dundas, the Secretary of State, and questioned relative to his having seen lawyer Brady at the house of Polverel, and what transpired there. The youth explicitly answered every interrogatory, and was requested to accompany Mr. Dundas to the Privy Council, which was then about to sit. The carriage was waiting; and when Ben saw the smiling face of his young master as he nodded at him on ascending the steps of the vehicle, he became assured that nothing was wrong, though he determined to watch where he went to; and both the seaman and the black had a smart run for it till they saw the equipage enter the archway of a prison-like building, and Ben became fearful that the young officer was "going to be clapped in limbo." He went up to the sentry and, offering him a bite of pigtail, inquired "What place that was," His mind became more appeased, though his wonder was not lessened, on being told that it was "the King's Palace." The Privy Council had met, and lawyer Brady was a prisoner before them on a charge of treasonable practices. Several witnesses were examined, who gave evidence against him; but as nothing very conclusive could be drawn from it, he remained cool and firm till Frank was introduced, when that peculiar rolling of the eye for which he was remarkable under sudden excitement plainly indicated strong internal emotion. [Illustration: _Richard Brothers the Prophet at Mrs. Heartwells._ London: Tilt & Bogue. 86. Fleet Street.] Frank was at first somewhat confused, but he was encouraged by the tall gentleman he had seen at the Admiralty, and who was, in fact, the Earl of Chatham, at that time the head of the navy. The youth narrated every particular that had transpired in connexion with Brady at Paris, and at the close of his examination he was requested to withdraw. He was shown into a room where the other witnesses were assembled, and here Frank learned that Brady had been engaged by the government as a spy amongst certain of the higher classes of society, whom he first betrayed, and then, having obtained all the intelligence he could of national affairs, it was supposed had secretly gone over to communicate his information to the enemy. This last supposition Frank had confirmed; and the lawyer was committed to prison on a charge of high treason. On the following day Frank had another interview with the secretary of the Admiralty, and was desired to leave his address and remain at home till further orders, and the seaman and the negro had leave of absence extended to them. Mrs. Heartwell was much pleased at retaining her son with her for some time, especially as she received another handsome donation from her unknown friend, which enabled her to procure him a complete outfit. Mr. Wendover, the merchant, had called, and behaved with great kindness and attention to both the mother and son, and the latter was invited to pass a few days at a handsome mansion which had just been purchased near Finchley common, and which gave a right to the owner as lord of the manor. Frank was delighted--he had never ceased to treasure the most pleasing remembrances of the interesting girl who had clung to him for protection on the beach at Blankenburg, and she, with all the tenderness and devotion of youthful affection, secretly cherished a warm regard for the young midshipman, and she most earnestly longed to see him again. On the evening previous to the intended visit, Brothers, the prophet, held a "meeting" in the drawing-room of Mr. Baurie's lodgings, and as on these occasions--which were looked upon in the light of devotional exercises--none were excluded, Mrs. Heartwell, Frank, Mr. Unity Peach, Ben and Sambo, and two or three of his leading disciples, as well as the servants, were present. There was nothing in the illusionist's general manner that could be construed into aberration of intellect. He was perfectly intelligible and sane when his monomania was not called into operation. He was a strong-limbed man; his hair was cropped close--his full eyes bent upon a book that he held in his right hand, and from which he commenced his address by reading passages from the prophecies of Daniel. His dress was remarkably plain, approaching to that usually worn by the Society of Friends, and his cravat was tied in the most exact manner, so that the bow in front resembled the cross of St. John of Jerusalem. At first, his voice was mild and gentle; but as he proceeded and became warmed with his subject, his countenance assumed an expression of wild energy, his utterance became deep and sepulchral, till at length, throwing down the book, he stood erect, with his arms crossed upon his breast, as the spirit of prophecy seemed to come upon him. "Woe unto ye of the earth who seeing will not believe; who hear and yet despise. I am he of whom it is said, that a man will be revealed to the Hebrews as their prince, and to all nations as their governor, according to the covenant entered into with king David. Haste then and flee from the wrath to come, for have I not prophesied, and it hath come to pass?--Have I not foretold, and the fulfilment is at hand? Did I not predict the downfal of monarchy in France? and lo! it hath fallen. Did I not foretel the death of Louis? and he is no more. Did I not say the king of Sweden was given over to destruction? The great Gustavus is laid in the tomb by the hand of an assassin. Have I not declared that England would be deserted by her allies? many of them are already gone, and the others will quickly follow.--The king of Prussia will acknowledge the republic of France;--the government of Poland will be changed, and the monarch driven from his throne;--the stadtholdership of Holland shall be cut off close to the ground! Hear and understand, ye men who are in authority! The prisons are crowded with captives charged with high treason, but the powers shall not prevail against them;--yet a little while and the prison doors shall be opened and the whole shall walk forth free. Hearken, oh! ye Hebrews, and listen, oh! ye people--London, with its Armageddon[9], shall be utterly destroyed.--Lo! I saw in a vision, and Satan clothed in white and scarlet, and breathing desecration and fire, was entering the condemned city, and suddenly there was strife and confusion among the citizens, and every man's hand was armed against his brother, till a river ran through London of the colour of blood, and there was a voice of fury and the noise of an earthquake, and there were groans of woe--woe--woe! And I prayed and wrestled with the spirit that the city might be spared, and HE, the Mighty One, was angered, and his wrath frightened away the angel from my side, and all became dark and oblivious; yet I saw in my vision that London had sunk into the bowels of the ground, and between the Downs and Windsor there was but one vast sheet of water, so that no trace of the city could be found. Why will ye die, oh! house of Israel?--hear and believe! And a storm shall arise--there will be consternation amongst our rulers--the English Admiralty shall be shaken as a man would shake bread in a basket." (Frank looked at Ben, and his countenance evinced displeasure.) "The prop and stay of the nation shall be knocked away--her armies will be destroyed, and her navy will be annihilated--the carcases of her soldiers shall strew the earth--the bodies of her seamen in an ocean-grave lie buried--for the enemy shall prevail, and the proud ships shall be sunk or grace the triumph of the foe." Here the prophet was interrupted by Ben, who, rising up and biting through his quid, as he hitched up his trowsers, ejaculated with vehemence the word "Gammon," seemingly to the great delight of Mr. Unity Peach, who screwed his face into all manner of shapes to conceal his mirth, and uttered, "Sit down, man--saucy sailor--go to sea." The prophet prepared to renew his subject; but Frank, seconding Ben's motion by rising also, boldly said, that "being a British naval officer he could not sit to hear the service he loved denounced--it would be treason to his country. The English ensign had been victorious on the seas, and its gallant defenders would never allow it to be dishonoured." "Hurrah, Master Frank," shouted Ben, "who cares for a bit of a breeze! Nillyhate our navy indeed!--bury all hands in the ocean!--strike to the enemy too!--Gammon, all gammon; but there, what's the odds so as you're happy." "Neber see de day, boy," chimed in Sambo, as he imitated the example of his master, "Golly-make me tink ob em gullemtine." The three withdrew, and Mr. Unity Peach soon afterwards left the party, "in order," as he said, "to scold the unmanly interruption given to Mr. Brothers," but in reality to vent his spleen against everybody; and the prophet very speedily took his departure. The stately and elegant mansion purchased by Mr. Wendover was indeed delightfully situated, and the grounds had been laid out with considerable taste and skill. Joyous were the hours that Frank passed there in the society of friends, who esteemed him as their deliverer from death, and particularly with Helen, who not only admired the handsome young officer's improved appearance, but also very naturally evinced gratitude towards him for saving the life of her father. Never were pair more truly happy; the present was to them all bright, and clear, and shining; they had no thought of the coming future; not a cloud intervened to cast a gloom upon their innocent enjoyments; and no pain was experienced till the time of separation approached, and then they felt how truly estimable and dear they were to each other. Frank was on the verge of his seventeenth birth-day; Helen had just passed her fifteenth; and both were experiencing those delightful sensations of affection, which in early life are so exquisitely delicious, because they are untainted by unhallowed thoughts or worldly desires. On the estate was a beautiful little rural cottage, over which the vine grew in rich luxuriance, and its garden shone bright with the varied hues of many flowers. Often when passing it Frank had wished it was the home of his mother, whose health had become impaired by lodging-house keeping, and she earnestly desired to retire from it. The place had been unoccupied for several years, and Helen, without saying anything to Frank, had urged the suit with her parents to offer it to Mrs. Heartwell as a residence. Mrs. Wendover and Helen called upon that lady; and the former was so much gratified with the deportment and conversation of Mrs. Heartwell, that she at once made the proposition and invited her down to visit the place. The invitation was accepted, but before the day arrived Frank was accosted in the street by Shipkins, who had acted as Brady's assistant, and he delivered a message from his employer, earnestly entreating that the youth would come to him, as he had affairs of importance to communicate. Shipkins also added his own persuasions to go immediately; but Frank peremptorily declined, until he had consulted with his mother, who, on his return home, not only advised the interview, but also resolved to accompany him as vague thoughts rose in her mind that possibly she might learn something respecting her husband. On the succeeding forenoon they went to the prison, and were informed that Brady had contrived to make his escape during the night, and the officers were then out in search of him. Protected from impressment by leave from the admiralty, both Ben and the negro could go where they pleased; and as the merchant had presented them with a liberal sum, they did not fail to avail themselves of the enjoyment of freedom. The Royal Circus (as the Surrey Theatre was then called) was a place of great celebrity for its melo-dramatic performances, and the "unrivalled" feats of horsemanship, enlivened as they always were by the quaint humour of a clever clown. Ben and Sambo had gone to visit a relation of the former somewhere in the neighbourhood of Walworth, and Frank had engaged to meet them at the notorious tea-gardens known by the sign of the Dog and Duck, in St. George's Fields, to accompany them to the Circus. The morning and evening promenades at the Dog and Duck were frequented by all the dashing bucks of the time, with their ladies; and amongst the company might often be seen _gentlemen_ riders, whose _modesty_ on the highway induced them to put crape over their faces as they uttered "Stand, and deliver"--in short, the place became the assemblage of the worst characters of society. Frank, habited in plain clothes (as his uniform would not have corresponded with the dress of his companions), was crossing the open fields to the place of appointment, when Shipkins again addressed him, and by assurances that he could inform him of the fate of his father, induced the young man to enter a respectable-looking house in the neighbourhood; but no sooner had they advanced into a room at the back of the premises, than Frank was seized by two stout men, a wet cloth bound over his mouth, and he was conveyed to a sort of dungeon in the rear of the building, where his clothes were stripped off, and a canvas shirt and trousers substituted in their stead; an iron band was then clasped round his body, and he found himself chained to the floor. The intentions of Shipkins were now evident; and Frank conjectured that his death was determined upon. Thinking more of his mother than himself, the young man suffered great distress, which was not relieved by a confused noise that suddenly commenced; and by placing his ear against the ground, he thought he could distinguish the strife of many human voices. What it meant he could not tell, but he was not long kept in ignorance, for in another half hour the door of his dungeon was thrown open, and Ben and Sambo, with a crowd of people, entered to his rescue. "He is not here," said the seaman mournfully, and not knowing the youth in his change of attire; "but this is another victim, anyhow--the man-trapping vagabones!" The black, however, with keener eye, had recognised his master, and he exclaimed, "Golly, you blind, Misser Ben, for no see me young massa," and he bounded forward to release him; but the chain and band defied his strength--the key was not to be found; but the enraged populace applied crow-bars to the stone in which the staple was fixed, and, after much exertion, it was forced away, and Frank was carried to the open air, where other unfortunate captives had been previously conveyed. It appeared that Ben and the black were passing the house, which was notoriously known as one of the numerous crimping establishments of the neighbourhood, when their progress was arrested by a crowd that had gathered in front of it, and two or three declared that they had seen a young gentleman decoyed into it, and so many crimes had been perpetrated there, that they were determined to put a stop to them. Ben required a description of the young gentleman, which was given, and suspicion crossed his mind that induced him to join the assailants; in fact, he became their leader--the doors were beat in--the windows smashed, and a forcible entrance made by the mob, whose numbers increased every minute. Several poor creatures were discovered almost in a state of exhaustion, but the principals of the establishment had escaped. In one room Ben found a part of Frank's dress, and the sight almost maddened him. The search was continued, and resulted as has already been told; and now a wild but characteristic scene of lawless justice ensued. The mob dragged the furniture out into the fields, and piling it up fire was applied, and the whole was soon in a blaze. They next proceeded to demolish the building itself, nor did they cease till the whole was razed to the ground. But Frank did not wait to witness the termination--a locksmith had succeeded in forcing the clasp of the band, and releasing him from the encumbrance, which Sambo carried home with him as a trophy. Mrs. Heartwell was informed of what had taken place, and a probability was suggested that her husband might have been carried off in a similar way. The visit to Finchley was made, and Mrs. Heartwell was persuaded by Frank to accept the tenancy of the cottage, hoping that Fortune would favour him with prize-money to render her life independent and comfortable. He had now twelve months' pay due, which, with what she would receive by disposing of part of her furniture, would serve for present exigencies; and a distant relation had bequeathed her an annuity of thirty pounds a year--so that prospects brightened before her. Brady could not be found, and Frank was ordered down to join his ship, that was then refitting at Portsmouth, and to take Sambo with him, whilst Ben was directed to accompany them and procure a passage round to Plymouth to the Windsor Castle. Frank received a letter to his captain from the secretary, and set out for Portsmouth, where he delivered his letter, and ascertained that it contained a strong recommendation of himself to the captain. Being somewhat of a favourite with the first lieutenant, the young midshipman earnestly solicited him to use his influence in getting Ben transferred to the same ship with him. The request prevailed; and Ben, by the admiral's directions, was entered on the books of the "Thunderbolt" seventy-four. Nor was he disappointed in his expectations of prize-money, for in the course of a few months several valuable captures were made, and the young midshipman enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that his mother was comfortably settled at the cottage with a competence, and that Helen when at Finchley visited her daily. FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 9: By this name he called the Houses of Parliament.] A WARM RECEPTION. Harry paid twenty pounds of sterling metal, To risk his life in a balloon, which burst; Tom and his friends, pic-nicking, boil'd a kettle, Which Harry (tumbling) fell into head first; But long ere what it was they well could settle, Arose unhurt from where he'd been immersed-- And, "Ah! why, Tom," said he, "how do, my buck?-- "You see I've just _dropp'd in_ to take--_pot-luck_!" [Illustration] TEA-TABLE TATTLE. "Is your tea agreeable, my dear Miss Dibsley?" "Thank you, dear Mrs. Hipson; quite pleasant; very much as I like it; all green with some black in it; a bit more sugar if you please." "Glad you like the flavour; I've just changed my tea-dealer, and--" "And new _brooms_ sweep clean, as the saying is," tittered Miss Dibsley; "a trifle more cream,--thank you." "Brooms!" ejaculated Mrs. Hipson gravely; "um! I hope you don't mean--by your mention of brooms--I assure you I ordered the very best seven shilling--" "Oh dear, quite the reverse," returned Miss Dibsley, helping herself to another tea-cake. "With some very superior green," proceeded Mrs. Hipson, "at eight-and-six, which I do think quite a catch; but really it's extremely difficult to find good teas now-a-days, for since this curious business with China--" "Oh! pray do tell me something about that," said Miss Dibsley; "for I never yet found anybody who knew, and never had patience to listen if they did. What has this Emperor of Delf been doing? The cream--thank you." "Why, my dear, I've luckily had it all explained to me by a gentleman deeply concerned in the Potteries, who consequently understands everything connected with China--it's his business--and he informs me on the best authority that the disturbance originally broke out thus:--You see there happens to be a place in America called the Boundary-line, the natives of which employed a gentleman named McLeod to seize upon one of our East India ships and destroy its cargo of tea--these Boundary-line people being jealous, as I'm told, of the spread of temperance in this country. Whereupon our merchants in India naturally became incensed; and they applied, it seems, to the Emperor of China for a considerable quantity of opium--of opium, don't you see?--with the view of selling it to America at a very reduced price, so that the Boundary-line people might be tempted to buy the injurious drug, and thus become the instruments of their own punishment." "Now I begin to understand," said Miss Dibsley. "Euphemius Hipson, my dear, you can assist me to another lump of sugar?" "Oh! yes Miss Dibsley," said the young gentleman, jumping up nervously and spilling his tea over his new pepper-and-salt habiliments; "and if you'd like a bit more of this cake, here's such a nice--" "Euphemius, my darling," cried Mrs. Hipson, "Silence! Would you like to take some more cake, Miss Dibsley? Euphemius, go and sit down. Well, my dear, as I was saying, the Emperor of China, secretly instigated by his political crony, old Mehemet Ali--a very clever man, I need not tell you--positively refused to supply any opium to our merchants; and he seems to have acted with great obstinacy, for the French king and the Sultan together vainly endeavoured to counteract the policy of the Pacha, who had succeeded in persuading the Emperor that we wanted all this opium for _home-consumption_--in fact (only think!) that the British were going to destroy themselves with _opium_, and that thus he should lose his best customers for _tea_." "I see it all," remarked Miss Dibsley; "Euphemius, take my cup; and I think I'll try the bread and butter." "Well, the opium _we could not get_, though the applications that Lord Palmerston made were unknown; however we could punish Mehemet Ali for his part in the transaction, and _you_ know as well as _I_ how matters ended in Syria. I must tell you that his Celestial Majesty never once interposed to protect the Pacha, but left him to his fate--this I know to be the case. Well, our quarrel with China still remained open--" "Cream, Euphemius," said Miss Dibsley. "We refused to take tea----" "There's a good lad: a little bit more sugar." "We refused to take their tea without the supply of opium;--the Emperor grew more and more incensed--told all manner of falsehoods, and asserted that our merchants had been administering opium to the Chinese, (where should they get it, I should like to know!) with the view of producing sleep and plundering the tea-factories. He then, it is said--though I don't understand this part of the story--flung his chops in the faces of the British, and at length provoked our sailors to make an attack on everything in the shape of junk that they could find. And so to war we went--all, as you perceive, through the people of the Boundary-line, and the meddling of Mehemet Ali." [Illustration] "I never clearly understood the matter before," observed Miss Dibsley, stirring her fourth cup: "but what has the Emperor been doing lately?" "Lately, why haven't you heard? My dear, to prevent the British from being supplied, he has been ordering all his people to destroy their stocks of teas--hyson, souchong, bohea, congou--all they have, and promising to indemnify them every sixpence." "Well to be sure!" exclaimed Miss Dibsley; (a little more _gunpowder_ in the pot would improve the next cup, my dear madam;) "only think! But isn't this a good deal like cutting his own nose off?" "Of course it is, and what his Celestial Majesty will be doing next, I can't guess--I must ask my friend in the Potteries _his_ opinion." "I shouldn't at all wonder," returned Miss Dibsley, "if he were to hang himself up on one of his own tea-trees by his own pigtail, as a scarecrow to frighten away the barbarians." "But if this destruction of tea is to go on, what are _we_ to do? What is to become of the tee-totallers, Miss Dibsley?' "Can't say, my dear Mrs. Hipson, unless they turn coffee-totallers." "It's a melancholy affair, love." "It is indeed, dear. That last crisp little biscuit there is positively tempting,--and now I think of it, I'll just venture on _half_ a cup more tea; that sprinkling of gunpowder holds out deliciously. That'll do--thank you--charming!--These Chinese, I believe, have nothing of a navy?" "I'm credibly informed," responded Mrs. Hipson, "that their ships are all made of earthenware--in the shape of milk-pots." [Illustration] "Yes, and their cavalry are all mounted on tea-kettles, and go by steam." "By the way--Oh! Miss Dibsley, I had almost forgot--you have never seen the sweet copy of verses that our dear Euphemius has been inditing on this curious Chinese business. Euphemius, my darling, show them to Miss Dibsley. He actually pictures the Celestial Emperor sitting on a teapot!--a teapot for a throne; how imaginative! I assure _you_--but I shouldn't like it to go farther--that our friend in the Potteries thinks them quite remarkable, and says that the youth's knowledge of _facts_ is surprising: Euphemius is hardly seventeen yet--quite a child! What an age of genius this is! Euphemius, my dear, will you read?--Martha, you can take away.--Beg pardon, any more tea, Miss Dibsley? No!--not half a cup?--Take away, Martha. Euphemius, dear, proceed with your poetry."--"Hadn't I better read it for myself?" said Miss Dibsley. "No, I thank you," returned Euphemius; "you won't find out the jokes so well as I shall, 'cause I haven't put 'em all in italics." (_Euphemius reads._) The world rests on a tortoise, And a teapot rests on that, And on the teapot sitteth Earth's Emperor fierce and fat. He's brother to ten Comets, And a dozen Suns and Moons; The ocean is his slop-basin, And his subjects are all spoons. Forty cups of tea he taketh Every minute of the day, And he's owner of a milk-walk, Called by men the milky way. But for all his mighty emperorship, I wouldn't be in _his_ shoes, For there's steam enough about him To stew the chops he issues. If stronger he his tea makes, 'Twill blow out half his teeth; For hot's the water under him, And there's gunpowder beneath. Yet danger can't convince him, Though it grow more strong and hot; Of "green" he's proved a sample; He's "a spoonful for the pot." "_Tu doces_" means "thou tea-chest," But to teach old China's tribe, We must read it thus, "Two doses," Such as Nelson would prescribe. As sure as that's a teapot, He'll go upward with a whiz, And be, though more Celestial, Less Majestic than he is. As sure as that same crockery Community are crackt, Their spouts, and lids, and handles, Will go smash, and that's a fact. Though _t_ be first and last of it, In them there'll be no _trust_, Till "with your leaf, or by your leaf," Death turns them to "fine dust." How puzzled be their crania Beneath our cannon's roar! They never tasted anything But "cannister" before. They'll wonder what it's all about, When shot yet more abounds; They look into their teacups, And can't understand the grounds. While they fancy that there's nothing With their own tea on a par, I wonder what they think of The British T-a-r. This fact, Celestial Emperor, From experience we may know, If amongst the _quick_ we leave you, You will leave us--to the _sloe_. "Very good indeed, Euphemius;" cried Miss Dibsley, with a slight yawn; "capital; if you live long enough I haven't a doubt that you'll cut a very pretty figure as a poet in the pages of the _Stoke Poges Gazette_, _or Wormwood Scrubbs and Bullock-Smithey Register_." [Illustration] OMNIBUS CHAT. Meditating luxuriantly in our Omnibus the other day upon the elegant forms of the fair as they flitted in the sunshine through the streets of the west end, it occurred to us that we had neglected THE FASHIONS of late, and that the public might be expecting from us some report on the costumes of 1841. In a vehicle like the "Omnibus" it would be unpardonable not to _notice_ the Fashions. It is a subject to which we intend to pay especial attention. While thus resolving, a lady _swept_ across the road, and Blackie, the crossing-sweeper, attracted our attention by these observations upon the fair pedestrian:-- "Wot berry obliging an kin' hearted tings dem white lady is!--dey not ony gib poor nigger de coppers, but dey so kin' as help him sweepa de crossing.--Me suppose 'em not berry strong, poor tings, cos dey ony carry dem little doll umbrella, and dem little picanini bonnet; but dem berry nice lady, and look berry pretty for all dat. Bless 'em little heart, me neber wear out-a my broom, if dey go on a-wear dem nice long train." [Illustration] "Blackie's right," cried our old acquaintance, Mr. Cavil, who now jumped in. Not quite (thought we); for we could not find it in our hearts to complain _very_ seriously of the pretty dresses of the present day. Perhaps the train _may_ be just a thought too long. But we left Mr. Cavil full room to denounce the pinafores turned hind part before, in which young gentlemen between sixteen and thirty-five perambulate on Sundays; the best pinafore is but a poor apology for the "Sunday coat," though they do try to carry it off with a grand air, and a cigar. The subject of PLAYBILLS AND PLAYGOING now took the lead; for at this moment stepped into the vehicle, for the first time, a passenger, whose name it will be unnecessary to mention, if we introduce him under the designation of the Playgoer. Not old in years, he is not young in memory, and still less so in observation. By hearsay, or by optical note, he will tell you the colour of the small-clothes in which Munden took his farewell of the stage, and describe the exact pattern of Woodward's shoe-buckles. He hits off Keeley to the life, and gives you a very lively imitation of Stephens's pathetic execution of "Auld Robin Gray." Garrick he seems to have known from a boy, and he enlarges upon the grateful duty of subscribing to the fund now being raised for erecting a monument to Siddons, as though he had seen that incomparable actress (so every great authority proclaims her) make her first and last appearance. We ought to have been born earlier; we ought to have seen Mrs. Siddons. "You go to the theatre, I suppose, Mr. Cavil?" inquired the Playgoer of our old acquaintance beside him. "No I don't," was the response of Mr. Cavil, "but I read the playbills. The playbill is the _veluti in speculum_ for me. There I see human nature as in a mirror. There I read of envy, jealousy, and hatred--personal pique, private friendship--self-interest, sycophancy, adulation--in the varying forms of announcement, in the varying periods of omission--in the different sizes of type, in the significant conjunction of names--that may happen to compose the playbill. I see why this actor is to be run down now, and why the other is to be cried up then. I detect a reason for the implied insult, a motive for the palpable puff. Your playbill is a wonderfully accurate expositor of the mysteries of your human being. I don't want to go _into_ the theatre, while I can read what I find at the doors. The bill's better than the play. If you want an example, look at that placard there (pointing as we passed to one that bore her Majesty's name at the head of it), I should like to see a comedy coming up to that! There you read of a piece-- "'Which, from its strongly affecting scenes, and powerfully harrowing situations, has nightly drawn tears of pity and commiseration from the sterner heart of man, from all who have one _spark_ of the _milk of human kindness_, whilst woman's softer nature has swollen with bitterest indignation at the unmerited suffering and patient endurance of the hapless foundling.' "Such a bill as that is payable at sight. I can't read it without tears. Its bold metaphorical originality is unequalled in our literature. We have heard of the 'fountain of our daily bread,' and of the 'fire of patriotism flowing into other channels;' but who ever before heard of a 'spark of the milk of human kindness!' Shakspeare never ventured to make the daring combination." "Mr. Cavil," said the Playgoer, "I admire your literary acumen. As you have shown how the theatre furnishes amusement to those who never go into it, let me show in turn that, within, the field of amusement is not exclusively the stage. We need not travel just now 'behind the scenes;' there we may find ourselves another time; for the present we are satisfied with "A ROMANCE OF THE ORCHESTRA." I once witnessed a scene (say six or seven years ago) in the orchestra of Covent Garden, which for ludicrousness of effect, and the mysterious manner in which it arose, surpassed anything that ever came under my notice. A friend, considerably my senior, and a playgoer of the time of the Kembles, was one of my companions; the other was his wife, to accommodate whom, being shortsighted, we had established ourselves in the front row of the pit, on the prompter's side. At the commencement of the overture, we found that the scroll-end of one of the large double basses intercepted the lady's view of the stage, and a request was preferred by my friend to the performer (a most eccentric-looking genius, with only one eye, and that apparently turning on what mechanics call 'an universal centre'), to alter his position, but he very uncourteously refused to move; and still worse, on the rising of the curtain, he left the instrument secured in a perpendicular position, so as to completely obstruct our lady's view. Thus he left it, in spite of all our remonstrances. I, with the desperate indignation of youth, was for cutting the string and letting it fall down, but was restrained by my elder and more wily friend, who whispered me 'Never mind, I'll serve him out.' He then changed places with his lady, and all went on quietly till the fall of the curtain, when I suddenly missed him. He returned, however, in a few minutes, with a large piece of--yes, of _candle_; and he gave me a look which indicated that I was not to see anything. Yet I _did_ see, that while the rest of the audience were looking round the house, he leant over, and, unobserved by any one else, applied the grease with dexterity and effect to the strings of the offending instrument. He then took his seat, apparently as unconcerned as any spectator in the pit. In due time the bell rang for the music to the afterpiece, and we saw our musical adversary enter, release his instrument, and seat himself. He then tried the strings at his ear, and finding all right indulged himself with a pinch of snuff, and quietly awaited his time. The second bell rang-the leader gave the preliminary tap-tap, and off they went in the overture to Tancredi. After a few bars, it was our enemy's turn to chime in: he sawed away with right good will, but, to his utter amazement, without producing the desired effect. He looked down inquisitively with his single optic, but without comprehending the mystery. Again he tried, and of course with the same result; another downward look, and the truth seemed to flash across him. His one eye glared most horribly; but not on us did his anger fall. In front of him, perched on a high stool, with a step half way up for his feet, sat a little wee _homo_, working most industriously at a violoncello, as big as himself, and in a sweet unconsciousness of the storm gathering in his rear. On this unoffending victim did he of the double bass vent his rage--for after the second brief look at his useless instrument he darted one piercing glance at the violoncello player, deliberately deposited his bow on the desk before him, and dealt the little man so sound a cuff on the head, that musician, stool, violoncello, and desk, went down 'in one astounding ruin,' damaging the shins and toes of immediate neighbours, literally putting their pipes out, and producing discord dire throughout the realm of harmony. In vain did the leader rap his desk and try to keep his flock together. On looking round he found his first flute and fourth violin busily rubbing their legs; the second trombone gentleman dreadfully irate at having a favourite corn hurt by the stool falling on it; the small violoncello player awfully pugnacious; while the grand cause of all was looking on, with a diabolical smile on what passed for his face, and muttering _sotto voce_, 'I'll teach you to play me tricks again.' We looked quietly on, and my friend gave it as his opinion, that it was a great pity that the gentlemen could not settle their quarrels in private, instead of bringing them before the public in such a disgraceful way. How it ended I know not, for the curtain rose before it could be adjusted, and the 'harmonists' retired; but we subsequently learnt, that our hero of the double bass was, from a boorish temper, much disliked in the orchestra, and that to his great annoyance tricks had been frequently played off upon him; hence his sudden and violent retaliation on his supposed tormentor. * * * * * Our friend the Playgoer having thus introduced us to one of the curiosities of music--a practiser of sweet sounds, who was anything but the harmonist he seemed--his story suggested the image of an equally contradictory humorist, whom we had recently encountered; and we therefore without ceremony presented ONE OF THE CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE. 'Twas evening, and loud raged the autumn blast, As in an Author's darken'd room I stood. It was a sight to stir the pitying blood; His soul seemed struggling with some trouble vast; His thin hand held a pen--his eye, downcast, Traced its slow movement o'er the blotted sheet; His air was wild--his heart, I heard it beat! Lone, pale, he sat, a spectre of the past, Like Werner when the waters round him throng, Or like the Banish'd Lord. His heavy task Weighs on his brain--ah! when may it be done! "What write you, troubled spirit?" then I ask; In thrilling tones he said--"A Comic Song, 'Tis for the _Jolly Sandboy_, No. 1." Here we stopped to take up another passenger, "his first appearance in our stage," though evidently an experienced literary traveller. We all welcomed the new arrival; and Mr. Quickly (for this was his name) pretty soon began to convince us of his qualifications for a pleasant companionship along the road of life. We pass by what he said of ourselves, with the bare remark, that like Falstaff's story, "it was worth the listening;" but still worthier of it was this, which he recounted to us under the title of AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL. "Will you put that window down, Sir?" "Certainly not, Sir, I have a bad cold!" Such was the request addressed to his vis-à-vis in the Royal Mail by a small gentleman in a suit of black and a profuse perspiration; and such was the answer returned thereto by the person addressed, a highly nervous individual rejoicing apparently in about fifteen stone, certainly in a blue coat with gilt buttons, a sealskin cap, a red face, and nose to correspond.-- "Will you put down the window, Sir?" again demanded, after a few minutes, our friend of the sable garments, in a tone half angry, half speculative.-- "Really, Sir," was the answer, "I am sorry, Sir--but must decline to do so." "Do you intend to open the window?" a third time exclaimed the pertinacious votary of freedom--in accents wherein scorn and wrath were blended, with a quivering lip and pallid cheek. The lusty man shrunk back in his place--An assault with violence seemed impending. But though a large--he was a brave man, and he said "No!" * * * Again there was a pause--a decidedly unpleasant and embarrassing silence. The little querist turned pale, and gave a deep sigh--At last, in a voice of thunder, he roared out. "Will you, Sir, or will you not put down that window?" and at the same moment his hand with nervous rapidity sought his coat pocket. The red faced man trembled--he turned pale, and cast a supplicating glance at the other two inmates of the carriage, as who should say--"Pray help me--I may be murdered--I really think the wretched imp must have a stiletto or loaded pistol in his pocket." The glance seemed satisfactory--for the great gentleman after a short pause mildly said--"I will not, Sir!" In a second--a large silk pocket handkerchief was suddenly jerked from its place of repose by the diminutive tormentor of his gigantic victim. With a face of ashy hue he held out the Indian kerchief with one hand--the other reclined gracefully on the region of his heart. Anger had passed away from his brow--slowly and deliberately he cast an unearthly look on his trembling victim, and said-- "Then--Sir--you--must--take the consequences, (here he gave symptoms of spasmodic affection,) for--I am--going to be--sick!" * * * When the Royal Mail entered the town of S----, it was observed by the loiterers round the King's Head yard, where it changed horses, that, though a chilly day--_both_ windows _were down_. A tall fat man too was observed reclining in the extreme corner of the vehicle, with a handkerchief tied round his face--evidently suffering from cold. His opposite neighbour--a little man in black--had his head out of the window--and there was a smile on his countenance. * * * * * Sympathy for our fat friend, writhing and shivering in the corner of the mail, at the mercy of that little black imp with a smiling countenance, naturally enough suggested "FATNESS" as a topic of conversation; everybody, as everybody does in these cases, giving his opinion upon the moral and physical tendencies of obesity; some regarding that condition as rather civic than courtly, and others speculating as to its effects upon the temper and disposition; this person holding a proper degree of it to be indispensable to a fine woman; and that asserting a plentiful supply to be essential to the weight of every person in authority. One contended that nobody could have good humour or generous wit without fat, and another, that genius and fat have from the very beginning of the world been divided. It was easy to gather, however, that fat, in the social code, was associated with a certain amount of respectability, and had always the invaluable property of redeeming its possessor from insignificance. We could observe too that those who had it were neither proud of it nor pleased with it, while those who had it not would give the world for a good slice of the blessing. We also noticed that every speaker in turn, apparently unconscious that his neighbour had just done the same thing, quoted the line--"Who drives fat oxen must himself be fat." At this instant all heads were attracted to the windows by a spectacle presented at the back of a carriage just then passing; behind it, in all the pride and pomp of white silk hose, appeared a splendid pair of calves, accompanied by a livery-coat, cocked hat, and cane. A little boy had presumptuously mounted the "step behind," and the proprietor of the calves, instead of ordering him off, thrust him brutally down by an application of his foot to the face of the unfortunate urchin. Boys are little men, especially in their passions; and resentment of injury is a sharp and subtle suggester. The youthful proselyte of vengeance, after an instant's consideration, darted forwards, caught hold of the rail of the carriage, ran behind it a few feet, and then thrust a pin into one of the broad, round, _shaking_ calves of the footman. With uplifted leg he stood, while the carriage rapidly bore him away from his retreating tormentor. He had a stick, but he could not use it; he was in a free country, yet he dared not stop the carriage. He was hopelessly, ridiculously helpless. How he envied all those of his fraternity who wore padded calves. A cork leg would have been a real blessing! [Illustration] "HERE'S A BIT OF FAT FOR YOU!" cried a learned Professor of Obesity, at the same time tossing over to us an accurate account of the dimensions of one Thomas Hardy Kirman, whose case Mr. Pettigrew submitted to the Royal Society in 1833. This boy, before he was quite twelve years of age, measured five feet one, and weighed 198 lbs. He was 45 1/2 inches round the waist, 18 1/2 round the calf, and 19 across the shoulders. His obesity commenced at six years of age, at which time he fractured his thigh and was confined six weeks. [Illustration] "Why didn't they _let_ him out to hire," said Mr. Cavil, "to the Expositors of Mesmerism; he must have been made to stick pins into. Think of a human creature being turned into a pincushion! It fills all my flesh with a sense of glass splinters and Whitechapel blunts." Here our young acquaintance, Charles Hookeywalker, with delicate tenderness, proposed a relief to the feelings of the speaker by volunteering a sonnet. "Another sonnet!" cried Mr. Cavil, "worse and worse, I hate sonnets." But the subject in this especial instance was voted to contain a saving grace, for it was addressed to the Princess Royal, while yet she is HEIRESS PRESUMPTIVE. O Royal Cherub! first-born of the queen! Sweet babe! bright creature! light of all our eyes! Young heavenly visitant! from the blue skies, And from the Guelphs, descended! thou hast been As a new moon to Britain--not a _son_; But half a loaf is better far than none-- And so we welcomed thee; but oh! I ween, (Not thee--I leave thy nurses to wean thee,) Towards the next our expectations lean Upon Hope's anchor, wishing for a "He;" Who shall sometime rule Britons and the sea; And till he rules our land and ocean green, The princedom of its _Wales_ his own will be, That he may learn the trick of sovranty! MRS. TODDLES. TO THE PROPRIETOR OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. SIR.--I write to complain of the conduct of some of your people, more specially of that impertinent fellow who is always holding his finger up at me (I suppose in derision); I wish I only knew his number. How dare he, Sir, make his impudent remarks about me or my bonnet! If I chuse to wear a large bonnet, I suppose it's no business of his, or anybody else's; the fact is, that that bonnet is quite a new one, I bought it just before this ridiculous fashion set in of wearing no bonnet at all--a fashion, let me tell you, that I am determined never to follow; besides, I found that altering would only spoil it, and I was not a going to do that to please no one. Besides, you will allow that it was very hard after paying for a large full-sized bonnet, to throw, as it were, so much of it away to waste, and to make a small one of it; and then I beg to tell the "govener," as those fellows call him, whoever he may be, that it is a very rude thing to stick one's picture up in the shop windows for every body to stare at, and make their rude remarks upon. I suppose I am not obliged to spoil all my dresses in order to follow this _draggletail_ fashion; and as to my being too late "agen," as that vulgar creature says, why, I am quite sure that I have never been behind time more than ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at the outside. Besides, do not you invite ladies in particular to patronise your omnibus, and promise to accommodate them? Let me tell you, Sir, it's no accommodation to ladies, unless you can wait a few minutes for them. Now, when a gentleman is going out, he has nothing to do but to put his hat on; but consider, Sir, the number of things we have to look for when we are going out--bracelets, gloves, handkerchiefs, reticules, smelling-bottles, watch and chains, lockets, rings, parasols, and perhaps clogs--not to mention the difficulty of tying on one's bonnet sometimes to please one; and then again, there is the pinning of one's shawl or scarf, particularly if you've got a stupid bit of a girl to worry your life out, all of which you gentlemen know nothing about, and can't understand. And there are other reasons if I chose to mention them. I can tell you that my hairdresser was very near losing my custom for ever; and I dare say my milliner will learn the necessity of sending a dress cap home in time to try it on before one goes out another time. In conclusion, Sir, I have only just to say, that all this hurry-skurry, and flying about after your omnibus, and being stuck up in the shop windows, has made me extremely ill; and I have only to add, that I have written to my friend, Colonel Walker, to acquaint him with the whole business, and if he advises me to enter an action for damage and libellous treatment, I shall certainly do so.--I am, Sir, your humble Servant, (although insulted,) SARAH TODDLES. _Neat Cottage, Smallwood's Rents, Little Chelsea, July 26th, 1841._ P. S. I am quite sure that this _punctuality_, as gentlemen are so particular about, will lead to serious mischief to the public; see what it has done in my case, in consequence of your omnibus not waiting for me. My dress cap (which my _fool_ of a girl had done up in _coloured_ paper that _run_) was entirely spoiled by the rain, so that I shall never be able to wear it; and two respectable tradespeople, you see, were nearly losing a good customer. P. P. S. I open this letter to say I have just discovered that I have lost a very nice cambric pocket-handkerchief, and a bracelet is gone that I would not have lost for _any money_; besides which I got my feet wet, through going without my clogs. * * * * * [Illustration] *** We readily give insertion to the above letter, and while we regret the lady's disappointments, beg to assure her that no impertinence was intended by anybody connected with the Omnibus. We shall be proud to number her among our passengers if she can contrive, at some future period, _to be in time_. We lament her indisposition; but of course a lady of her good sense will not fail immediately to consult Dr. Buchan, or the erudite Culpepper; if we _might_ suggest, we should respectfully advise the lady to put her feet in hot water, and to take a glass of nice warm rum and water, with a bit of butter in it. [Illustration] [Illustration: GHOSTS. _Designed Etched & Published by George Cruikshank--Oct^r. 1^st 1841_] FRIGHTS!--No. III. It may be doubted whether malignity itself occasions greater mischief in the world than _fun_. If society may count up its thousands of victims to the venomous propensities of the envious and the revengeful, so may it also reckon its thousands of martyrs to propensities the very opposite to theirs--victims to passions the most joyous and guileless--to feelings the most sportive and child-like; in short, to a taste for frolic--to a love of _fun_. The malice of an enemy is sometimes not more dangerous than the gamesomeness of a friend; the slanderous tongues of the envious and the vile often prove far less sharp and fatal, far less productive of permanent misery to the innocent, than the jocularity of a prankish old fool of a nurse, or the light-hearted sally of an affectionate but deplorably stupid parent. There is plenty of tragedy in this life, acted in earnest; but there is a good deal of real poisoning done "in jest." People _will_ sport jokes that are no jokes. To every domestic circle into which this page may penetrate, the subject will perhaps suggest some recollection of disasters more or less serious that have arisen from silly and unthinking frolics, prompted more especially by that for which human nature has so intense, so enlightened, and so philanthropic a relish--the fun of frightening people. We hope it may be from no bitter or melancholy experience that the reader concurs with us in seeing "no fun in it." The merry laughing face of this species of "fun," has proved a death's-head ere now; the figure of "fun" has turned out to be a hideous hobgoblin with outstretched arms--a finger-post pointing to the next lunatic asylum. If the fatal consequences that frequently ensue from these practical jests admitted of any feeling in the mind, associated however remotely with ridicule, how exquisitely ludicrous would the position of that man appear, who having enjoyed his funny trick, and played out successfully his game of fright, beholds his triumph in the pallid visage, the wild glance, the trembling limbs, the hurried pulse, the panting heart of the object of his cruel sport; and becoming alarmed in turn at the effect which he had taken such pains to produce, is obliged to make some attempt to palliate his error and to chase away the spectres he has conjured up, by exclaiming in the most deprecating and apologetic tone--"I never thought it would have frightened you so, it was only my fun!" We almost wish that the legislature would--just for the "fun" of the thing--pass some law that might reach these reckless and desperate experimentalists, and punish the humorous players upon people's nerves, with a severity proportioned to the whimsicality of the hoax. The law recognises the criminality of those who carelessly or wilfully sport with the safety of people's legs, arms, or necks; and it is peculiarly severe upon all who heedlessly venture to trifle with the sacredness of our goods and chattels; but it has no eye to the playful freaks of practical jokers, to whose insatiable thirst for fun the credulous child, the timid girl, the weak-nerved woman, fall victims; it has no ear for the short sudden shriek that bursts involuntarily from white and quivering lips, sounding not unfrequently the knell of sanity in those who utter it, or proclaiming the approach of vacant, hopeless, miserable idiocy. The disciples of this school of fun are sure to find plenty of nerves admirably suited for them to work upon. Children are prepared for the sport almost in their cradles. Nine out of ten are trained up in terror. They are taught the destructive lesson of fear, before they can even spell the word. Before they can speak plainly, they become practised in the instinctive expression of their feelings, by shuddering, screaming, and crying their little hearts out, at the idea of "bogie," and the horror of being left alone in the dark. The very moment this idea is engrafted upon the sensitive mind, the instant this horror takes possession of the child's imagination, it loses something of the health and happiness to which it was born. The dread of being in the dark--of being alone, and in the dark--clouds perhaps all its after life. It sees nothing that really is, in its true light, from the fear of seeing something which is not. The influence of the first horror of "bogie," remains for years and years after the particular species of "bogie" that had excited the agony of alarm has become an absurdity too childish to be even laughed at. Unconsciously, the mind is sensibly affected, in ten thousand different forms, by the very image which it despises and ridicules. The silly bugbear of the nursery has an abundant and most appalling progeny. In this, more perhaps than in any other respect, may it be said that "the child is father of the man." The idea of darkness as something terrible would in few instances be fixed in the mind, were it not for the cruel and senseless practices, by which servants of all grades--we may add, teachers of some--work upon the imagination of children. They are taught to see in darkness a natural enemy, as they are sometimes taught to regard school as a punishment. "If you are not good, you shall be shut in the dark closet,"--or "If you don't behave better, you shall be sent to school immediately." These are family phrases not yet quite out of fashion. The consequences now and then take an unexpected turn. A little damsel of our acquaintance was shut up in a dark room; she cried bitterly, violently, for the first five minutes; then all was suddenly still--quite still; ten minutes went on, and yet there was a dead silence within. The family at length began to be uneasy--then frightened--too frightened to go and ascertain the cause of the phenomenon. At length they rush forth and burst open the door, when they discover that the little victim had--alone and in the dark--found her way to a plate of cheesecakes left accidentally in the apartment, and was making herself extremely ill for want of other amusement. * * * * * How many wits have been set wandering by roadside horrors, raised up from the elements of the ridiculous! The simplest objects become the means of deadly mischief. A donkey in the deep shadow, a cow in the dim moonlight, a stump of an old tree, a white finger-post at the corner of a by-path, have produced in myriads an agony of agitation; but what are these to the good old English country ghost, the elements that compose which we here set in their uncombined, and therefore unterrifying forms, before the spectator. Why, here are agents by which even the most unskilful may succeed in frightening a whole parish--nay, a county. Look upon these the simple means, and then behold the easily manufactured ghost! [Illustration] But of all fields for frights the church-yard is the most productive of terrors! Yet why? Whosoever wanders over one in the daytime will find, be he in town or country, that he is surrounded by none but the most amiable and affectionate people in the world--by the kindest of relations--the faithfullest of friends. Such people are little likely to start from behind their tombstones, in the dark, for the mere pleasure of frightening benighted wanderers. In a churchyard, if the inhabitants be rightly described, there should be no terror! But what shall we say for a church, the sanctuary of the disturbed passions, a temple dedicated to sacredness and love. Yet where is the pious individual who would feel no tremor, if left to pass the night within the gothic aisles of such an edifice? In the vulgar superstition all churches are haunted, so also is every house that happens to be "in chancery." There are two classes of haunted tenements--one celebrated for mysterious Sights, and the other for mysterious Sounds. The old Cock-lane Ghost, and the various modern editions of that personage at Cambridge and elsewhere, are specimens of the Visible; the recent mysteries at Windsor and Dublin are examples of the Audible. Opinions differ as to which is the truly Terrible. For ourselves, though shadows without substances are eminently agitating--noises without the slightest possible cause--noises, sudden, strange, and above all self-existent--noises of this kind at midnight--in the wainscot, in the next apartment which is empty, in the room below where the gentleman took the dose of poison by mistake--are not, we make bold to confess, a sort of sound that we should like to go out of our way to listen to. [Illustration] Of the Audible Ghost, Addison's comedy of the "Haunted House" contains the noisiest representative on record; and perhaps Defoe's account of the apparition of Mrs. Veal appearing to her friend, presents the Visible Ghost in most extraordinary reality to our all but believing eyes. But talk of believing--we shall put the reader's faith to the test, by inviting him to take a peep into a "haunted house" which we have fitted up for his reception. Hark! * * * * * We remember two of papa's friends who were "regular story tellers." Mr. O'Brien had a store of Irish legends (of these hereafter); Mr. T. Smith had a variety of ghost stories. Of one of these a haunted house was the scene--a whole family of ghosts the dramatis personæ. We must premise, that at the time referred to, it was the fashion to wear "pigtails," and Mr. Smith, who had eschewed "pig-tail" and patronised "short cut," or crop, used to say when asked what he had done with his pig-tail, that "thereby hangs a tale," which joke he retailed at every opportunity. We may also intimate that a good "ghost story" was in those days a valuable little property. Mr. Smith seldom dined at home, and always passed his evenings at other people's firesides. In truth, for more than three parts of the year, his "ghost story" procured him "bed, board, and lodging," gratis, including "coals and candles." Now then, let the reader imagine a small family party seated round the fire, on a winter's evening, and let Mr. Smith tell his own story in his own way.---- I was staying (he began) some years back at Squire Calf's, at Danglewitch-Hall, near Nantwich, in Cheshire: my friend, O'Brien here, was also a visitor. ("Sure I was," says Mr. O'B. with a grin--he was a merry fellow that O'B.) One evening the conversation turned upon Clay-hall, an old deserted mansion, that was reported to be haunted. Strange sights, strange sounds, and strange stories, filled the neighbourhood with alarm; and what surprised me at that time was, that all the Danglewitch people seemed firmly to believe in them. Being a little elevated, I bantered the family upon their ridiculous fears--I have since learned to pay more attention to other people's opinions--and so enraged the squire, that he offered to bet fifty guineas to one, that I would not dare to sleep in that house for one night. No sooner said than "Done," cried I, and proposed to go immediately. The squire instantly ordered the servant to get the key from the old women at Clay-park lodge, to light a fire in the blue-room, and to provide, besides a pipe and tobacco, a good bottle of brandy. The whole party, in a merry mood, sallied forth to conduct me to my quarters. Soon after I wished them all good night, and fastened the door. I had a brace of pistols and a good sword-stick. I drew my sword and went over the house at once, to see that the fastenings were secure--for though not afraid of ghosts, I objected to being surprised by robbers. Everything was in a dilapidated state, but I ascertained that the locks and bolts, although rusty, were sufficiently strong to resist an intruder. I was also certain, that no one was concealed. I then proceeded to my apartment, which was on the first floor at the back of the house. I slowly ascended the large staircase. The sound of my footsteps echoed through the empty mansion. As I approached the landing I was startled by a sudden noise, like the slamming of a door, and recollected that one of the upper rooms was without a fastening. All was silent again. I could hear myself breathe. I then held up the light, and looked first up, and then down, the well staircase, and began to feel that I had done a rather foolish thing--there might be after all a secret inlet--I might be robbed, murdered. But it was too late to recede; and the fear of being laughed at overcame every other fear. I now entered my chamber and secured the door. The bright fire and the candles gave a cheering look to a room otherwise dreary enough; for it was of large dimensions, and its colour was a deep dingy blue. At one end stood a huge four-post bedstead, hung with dark blue tattered damask curtains, edged with black; the head of each post was ornamented with a ragged plume of dark-blue feathers, which gave to it rather a funereal appearance. I examined every part, and beneath the bed perceived a large chest, which I found to be firmly locked. Pushing it aside, I proceeded to explore the two closets that flanked the fire-place. Amongst a quantity of loose lumber, wig boxes, hat boxes, and odd slippers, I discovered an old black letter volume (a good deal nibbled), but, as Sir Walter Scott says, "worth its weight in gold for all that;" it was "God's Revenge against Murther." I just gave it a bang upon the table to knock out the dust. The blow produced a most tremendous noise that nearly stunned me, and was echoed apparently from every corner of the building, followed by the rattling of falling mortar behind the wainscot, and a scampering as if ten thousand rats were flying in all directions. The cloud of dust almost stifled me; but not quite overcome, I applied myself to my brandy, and filled my pipe, stirred the fire, snuffed the candles, opened my book, and began to read. I read on in silence, broken only by the regular puffing of smoke, the ticking of my watch, and the singing, or rather sighing, of the kettle. The book absorbed my whole attention. I was insensibly moved by its revelations. I was so worked upon by it that I felt a kind of lifting of the chair beneath me, and a peeping shadow appeared evermore between the candle and the page. Suddenly, at a most exciting point, I heard a gentle rustling of the bed-curtains. On looking round--horror! never to be forgotten!---- I distinctly saw a tall figure enveloped in a long night-dress, which touched the ground. It was standing sideways towards me, so that the face was hidden by a large feminine cap, which, however, it removed and threw upon the bed, discovering a most fearful and ghastly profile. It went through the operation of making its toilet before a small glass, then looked towards the trunk, and then to the bed. After a moment's hesitation, the trunk was opened, and it proceeded to put on an old-fashioned brocade dress. The figure then, after surveying itself in the mirror, slowly turned round, and moved towards me. I felt my blood curdle, my flesh crawl. It passed the foot of the bed, and advanced towards the door. The eyes were cast down; the hand was upon the fastenings. At this instant the village clock struck, or rather tolled out twelve--and as the last stroke of the bell floated on the breeze, the figure gradually raised its head, and fixed upon me a pair of horrible glaring eyes that turned my heart to ice. A sharp sliding noise on the wall opposite made me turn to look, and the two portraits, a lady, and an officer in a blue uniform, appeared to be leaning out of their frames, and watching me intently. The figure then hastily passed out of the room, uttering a screaming note, wilder than the moaning wind. This was answered seemingly from the cellars by a most hideous long-drawn howl, followed by the rattling of locks, bolts, and chains, and a confusion of strange unearthly sounds. I sprang up and seized my pistols. There was a dead silence. I could distinctly hear a whispering, not only on the stairs, but in the closets, the doors of which were slowly pushed open, and more than one pair of eyes flashed upon me from the dark; in an instant the door of the room creaked slowly, and I beheld two or three parchment faces, with fiery eyes, gazing at me. I made now a desperate effort, and levelling a pistol either way, uttered a fierce menace, threatening to fire, if they advanced. This threat was answered by a queer sort of tittering and snuffling; in desperation I pulled the triggers; the result was a double flash in the pan, which overspread the room like a sheet of blue lightning. Then broke forth--a laugh--ten times more horrible than the laughter of a herd of hyenas--I could endure no longer, and sank into the chair, the pistols dropping from my hands. There was a dead pause, and I heard something like the mewing of a cat, yet seemed it like the voice of a child in distress; and my attention was attracted by the appearance of a black skeleton of a cat, who was setting up its back, growling and spitting. It then slowly advanced and prowled round the fire-place, and sitting down opposite to the fire with its back towards me, turned its head, and its fearful green eyes met mine. I next heard the whelping of a cur, and the distant, hollow, wolf-like baying of a watch-dog. The sounds approached; the dog-chain rattled up the stairs. I tried to seize my sword, but was paralysed. I could just glance towards the door, whence came a strange, shuffling sound, and the next moment I saw an extraordinary figure enter, with a large carving-knife in his hand. He was dressed in blue livery, with tags--a round paunch--high bony shoulders, and spindle-shanks--he wore a blue Welsh wig--and his nose, which was of enormous size and hooked, was of a deep blue also: it was like burning brimstone. He was followed by a skeleton-like figure; also in livery, and armed like his fellow. These stood and stared at me. They were followed by a figure, marching into the room with an air of consequence. He was not prepossessing: dimly-glaring saucer-eyes, with a decided cast in them; a small, pinched bit of blue nose; a spacious mouth, with a tooth or two exposed; the look of age diffused over all. He was wrapped in a blue dressing-gown, and wore a large curled blue wig. As _he_ entered, all appeared blue--the candles, and the fire, whose flames curled themselves into the likeness of some ghastly thing. The whole company, for there were now many intruders, seemed covered with blue mould; they were the children of Mildew and Decay; they looked damp and slippery. The veteran in the dressing-gown advanced to the fireside with dignity, and looked at me with a withering scowl. I guessed at once that he was, or _had been_, the master of the mansion, and politeness prompted me to rise. He motioned me to be seated, and then took a chair. A little boy was at his side, and the stately figure of a lady also stood near him--other faces peered over his chair. My venerable host then bent forwards, and placing his hands upon his knees, looked sternly in my face and said, in sepulchral tones,--"_Pray, sir, did you ever hear that this house is haunted?_" * * * * I was thunderstruck! What answer could I make? Not a moment was allowed me for reflection, for I instantly felt a violent tug at my pigtail behind, and the brimstoned-nose butler, leering in my upturned face, exclaimed, "And you don't believe in ghosts!" My terror was at its height. I heard no more; but I _saw_--I saw the knife flashing, and felt that, though my head was not off, my pigtail was gone! Shouts of exulting malice rent the air---- But here Mr. Smith was interrupted by a shout of exulting laughter from one of his listeners. It was Mr. O'Brien. "O, ho!" screamed that gentleman; "I'll be kilt intirely. A mighty ingenious tale you've made of it, Mr. Smith. And sure I must tell the thruth, if you bate me for it. Sure and wasn't it the day after we had the stag-hunt, and didn't you get so over head and ears in liquor that you went sleep-walking about the house all night, disturbing the people that were fast asleep: and the night after, sure didn't we tie your pigtail to the bell-rope at the head of the bed, to keep you still, or give us notice of your rambles--and a pretty good notice we got, by the powers! for what wid the bell ringing and your bawling, we thought the house was on fire. I'll never forget seeing you pulling one way and the bell pull pulling the other--and all we could do, we could not keep you aisy, till we undid your tail; so faith it was Betty, the cook, I remember, who whipt out her scissors, and cut the knot. Oh! oh! och!--and that's the _thrue_ way you lost your pigtail, Mr. Smith." [Illustration] IRISH SIMPLICITY. A military officer, living in barracks, ordered his Irish servant to boil him an egg for breakfast, adding an injunction to "boil it soft." The officer took up the newspaper and read for ten minutes, then wondered why his egg did not arrive, and rang the bell.--"My egg?"--"I'm seeing about it, sir." Another five minutes elapsed. "Where's this egg?" "Not done, sir." "Not done! do you mean to keep me waiting all day?" "Bring it directly, sir." Still no egg came; the bell rang once more: "Where _is_ the egg?" thundered the officer. "Yer honor," cried Thomas, in alarm, "didn't you tell me to bile it soft, sir! and haven't I biled it this quarter of an hour, and it isn't soft yet." [Illustration] LITTLE SPITZ. A LENTEN ANECDOTE, FROM THE GERMAN OF PROFESSOR SPASS. BY MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH. "I think," said Rebecca, flinging down her beautiful eyes to the ground, and heaving a great sigh--"I think, Signor Lorenzo, I could eat a bit of--sausage." "Of _what_?" said Lorenzo, bouncing up and forgetting all sense of politeness in the strange demand. "My dearest madam, _you_ eat a sausage?" "Ha, ha, I'm blesht," shouted Abednego, the banker, Rebecca's papa, "I'm blesht, if Signor Lorenz does not think you want to eat the unclean animal, Rebecca, my soul's darling. These shtudents are dull fellows, look you, and only know what's in their books. Why, there are in dis vicked vorld no less than four hundred kindsh of shausages, Signor Lorenz, of which Herr Bürcke, the court-butcher, will show you the resheipts.--Confess now, you thought my darling wanted to eat pig--faugh!" Rebecca's countenance, at the very idea, assumed an expression of the most intolerable disgust, and she gazed reproachfully at Lorenzo. That young man blushed, and looked particularly foolish, as he said: "Pardon me, dearest madam, for entertaining a thought so unworthy. _I did_, I confess, think of pork-sausages, when you spoke, and although pretty learned on most subjects, am indeed quite ignorant upon the matter of which Herr Abednego has just been speaking." "I told you so," says Abednego. "Why, my goot sir, dere is mutton-sausages, and veal-sausages, and beef-sausages, and--" "Silence, papa," said Rebecca, sharply: "for what has Signor Lorenz to do with such things? I'm very sorry that I--that I offended him by asking for any dish of the kind, and pray let him serve us with what he has." Rebecca sunk down in a chair looking very faint; but Lorenzo started up, and swore that he would have himself cut up into little pieces, stuffed into a bladder, and made sausage-meat of, rather than that the lovely Israelite should go without the meat that she loved. And, indeed, such was the infatuated passion which this young man entertained for the Jewess, that I have not the least doubt but that he would have been ready to do as he said. "I will send down immediately into the town," continued he, "and in ten minutes, my messenger will be back again." "He must run very fast," said the lady, appeased, "but I thought you said, Signor Lorenz, that you kept but one servant, and that your old housekeeper was too ill to move?" "Madam, make your mind quite easy.--I have the best little messenger in the world." "Is it a fairy," said the Jewess, "or a household demon? They say that you great students have many such at your orders, and I should like to see one of all things." "You shall see him, dearest lady," replied the student, who took from a shelf a basket and a napkin, put a piece of money into the basket (I believe the poor devil had not many of them), and wrote a few words on a paper which he set by the side of the coin. "Mr. Bürcke," wrote he, "Herr Hofmetzler, (that is, Mr. Court-butcher,) have the goodness to send, per bearer, a rixdollar's worth of the best sausages--_not_ pork." And then Lorenz opened his window, looked into his little garden, whistled, and shouted out, "Hallo! _Spitz!_" "Now," said he, "you shall see my familiar;" and a great scratching and whining was presently heard at the door, which made Rebecca wonder, and poor old fat Abednego turn as yellow as a parsnip. I warrant the old wretch thought that a demon with horns and a tail was coming into the room. The familiar spirit which now made its appearance _had_ a tail certainly, and a very long one for such a little animal; but there was nothing terrible about him. The fact is, it was Lorenz's little turnspit-dog, that used to do many such commissions for the student, who lived half a mile out of the city of Krähwinkel, where the little dog was perfectly well known. He was a very sagacious, faithful, ugly little dog, as ever was seen. He had a long black back and tail, and very little yellow legs; but he ran excessively fast on those little legs, and regularly fetched his master's meat and rolls from the city, and brought them to that lovely cottage which the student, for quiet's sake, occupied at a short distance from town. "When I give him white money," said Lorenz, caressing the little faithful beast, that wagged his tail between the calves of his master's legs, and looked up fondly in his face, "when I give him white money, he goes to the butcher's; when I give him copper, he runs to the baker's,--and was never yet known to fail. Go, my little Spitz, as fast as legs will carry thee. Go, my dog, and bring with thee the best of sausages for the breakfast of the peerless Rebecca Abednego." With this gallant speech, which pleased the lady greatly, and caused her to try to blush as much as possible, the little dog took the basket in his mouth, and trotted down stairs, and went off on his errand. While he is on the way to Krähwinkel and back, I may as well mention briefly who his master was, how he came to be possessed of this little animal, and how the fair Jewess had found her way to a Christian student's house. Lorenz's parents lived at Polkwitz, which everybody knows is a hundred leagues from Krähwinkel. They were the most pious, orderly, excellent people ever known, and their son bade fair to equal them in all respects. He had come to Krähwinkel to study at the famous university there; but he never frequented the place except for the lectures; never made one at the noisy students' drinking bouts; and was called, for his piety and solitary life, the hermit. The first year of his residence, he was to be seen not only at lectures, but at church regularly. He never ate meat on a Friday; he fasted all through Lent; he confessed twice in a month; and was a model for all young students, not merely at Krähwinkel, Bonn, Jena, Halle, and other German universities; but those of Salamanca and the rest in Spain, of Bologna and other places of learning in Italy, nay, of Oxford and Cambridge in the island of England, would do well to take example by him, and lead the godly life which he led. But I am sorry to say that learning oftentimes begets pride, and Lorenzo Tisch, seeing how superior he was to all his companions, ay, and to most of the professors of the university, and plunging deeper and deeper daily into books, began to neglect his religious duties at first a little, then a great deal, then to take no note of them at all; for though, when the circumstances of this true history occurred, it was the season of Lent, Lorenzo Tisch had not the slightest recollection of the fact, not having been at church, or looked into an almanack or a prayer-book, for many months before. Lorenzo was allowed a handsome income of a hundred rixdollars per year by his parents, and used to draw this at the house of Mr. Abednego, the banker. One day, when he went to cash a draft for five dollars, the lovely Miss Rebecca Abednego chanced to be in the room. Ah, Lorenzo, Lorenzo! better for you to have remained at home studying the Pons Asinorum; better still for you to have been at church, listening to the soul-stirring discourses of Father Windbeutel; better for you to have been less learned and more pious: then you would not have been so likely to go astray, or allow your fancy to be inflamed by the charms of wicked Jewesses, that all Christian men should shun like poison. Here it was Lent season--a holiday in Lent, and Lorenzo Von Tisch knew nothing about the matter, and Rebecca Abednego, and her father, were absolutely come to breakfast with him! But though Lorenzo had forgotten Lent, the citizens of Krähwinkel had not, and especially one Herr Bürcke, the court butcher, to whom Tisch had just despatched Spitz for a dollar's worth of sausage-meat. The visits of Tisch to the Jew's house had indeed caused not a little scandal. The student's odd, lonely ways, his neglect of church, his queer little dog that ran of errands for him, had all been talked of by the town's-people, who had come at last to believe that Lorenzo was no less than a magician, and his dog, as he himself said in joke, his familiar spirit. Poor Spitz!--no familiar spirit wert thou; only a little, faithful, ugly dog--a little dog that Tisch's aunt Konisgunda gave to him, who was equally fond of it and him. Those who know Krähwinkel (and who, I should like to know, is not acquainted with that famous city?) are aware that Mr. Bürcke, the court butcher, has his handsome shop in the Schnapps-Gasse, only a very few doors from Abednego's banking-house. Mrs. Bürcke is, or used to be, a lady that was very fond of knowing the doings of her neighbours, and passed many hours staring out of her windows, of which the front row gave her a command of the whole of that beautiful street, the Schnapps-Gasse, while from the back the eye ranged over the gardens and summer-houses without the gates of the town, and the great road that goes to Bolkum. Herr Lorenzo's cottage was on this road; and it was by the Bolkum-gate that little Spitz the dog entered with his basket, when he went on his master's errands. Now, on this day in Lent, it happened that Frau Bürcke was looking out of her windows instead of listening at church to Father Windbeutel, and she saw at eleven o'clock Mr. Israel Löwe, Herr Abednego's valet, porter, coachman, gardener, and cashier, bring round a certain chaise that the banker had taken for a bad debt, into which he stepped in his best snuff-coloured coat, and silk stockings, handing in Miss Rachael in a neat dress of yellow silk, a blue hat and pink feathers, and a pair of red morocco slippers that set off her beautiful ankle to advantage. "Odious people!" said Mrs. Bürcke, looking at the pair whom Mr. Löwe was driving, "odious, vulgar horse!" (Herr Bürcke kept only that one on which his lad rode;) "Roman-nosed beast! I shouldn't wonder but that the horse is a Jew too!"--and she saw the party turn down to the left into Bolkum-Strasse, towards the gate which I have spoken of before. When Madame Bürcke saw this, she instantly flew from her front window to her back window, and there had a full view of the Bolkum road, and the Abednego chaise jingling up the same. Mr. Löwe, when they came to the hill, got off the box and walked, Mr. Abednego sat inside and smoked his pipe. "_Ey du lieber Himmel!_" screamed out Mrs. Bürcke, "they have stopped at the necromancer's door!" It was so that she called the worthy Tisch: and she was perfectly right in saying that the Israelitish cavalcade had stopped at the gate of his cottage; where also appeared Lorenzo, bowing, in his best coat, and offering his arm to lead Miss Rebecca in. Mrs. Bürcke could not see how he trembled as he performed this work of politeness, or what glances Miss Rebecca shot forth from her great wicked black eyes. Having set down his load, Mr. Israel again mounted his box, and incontinently drove away. "Here comes that horrid little dog with the basket," continued Mrs. Bürcke, after a few minutes' more looking out of the window:--and now is not everything explained relative to Herr Lorenzo Tisch, Miss Rebecca Abednego, and the little dog? Mrs. Bürcke hated Spitz: the fact is, he once bit a hole in one of her great, round, mottled arms, which had thrust itself into the basket that Spitz carried for his masters provisions; for Mrs. B. was very anxious to know what there was under the napkin. In consequence, therefore, of this misunderstanding between her and the dog, whenever she saw the animal, it was Mrs. B.'s wicked custom to salute him with many foul words and curses, and to compass how to do him harm; for the Frau Hofmetzlerinn, as she was called in Krähwinkel, was a lady of great energy and perseverance, and nobody could ever accuse her of forgetting an injury. The little dog, as she sat meditating evil against him, came trotting down the road, entered as usual by the Bolkum-gate, turned to the right, and by the time Madame Bürcke had descended to the shop, there he was at the door, sure enough, and entered it wagging his tail. It was holiday Lent, and the butcher-boys were absent; Mr. Bürcke himself was abroad; there was not a single joint of meat in the shop, nor ought there to be at such a season, when all good men eat fish. But how was poor Spitz to know what the season was, or tell what his master himself had forgotten? He looked a little shy when he saw only Madame Bürcke in the shop, doubtless remembering his former disagreement with her; but a sense of duty at last prevailed with him, and he jumped up on his usual place on the counter, laid his basket down, whined, and began flapping the place on which he sat with his tail. Mrs. Bürcke advanced, and held out her great mottled arm rather fearfully; he growled, and made her start a little, but did her no harm. She took the paper out of the basket, and read what we have before imparted to the public, viz.:--"_Mr. Court Butcher, have the goodness to send per bearer a rixdollar's worth of best sausage meat_, NOT _pork.--Lorenz Tisch._" As she read, the dog wagged his tail more violently than ever. A horrible thought entered the bosom of Mrs. Bürcke, as she looked at the dog, and from the dog glanced at her husband's _cleaver_, that hung idling on the wall. "Sausages in Lent!" said Mrs. Bürcke: "sausages to be fetched by a dog for that heathen necromancer and that accursed Jew! He _shall_ have sausages with a vengeance." Mrs. Bürcke took down the cleaver, and * * * * * About twenty minutes afterwards Herr Lorenzo Tisch opened his garden gate, whither he had been summoned by the whining and scratching of his little faithful messenger. Spitz staggered in, laid the basket at his master's feet, licked his hand, and fell down. "Blesh us, dere'sh something red all along the road!" cried Mr. Abednego. "Pshaw! papa, never mind that, let's look at the sausages," said his daughter Rebecca--a sad gormandizer for so young a woman. Tisch opened the basket, staggered back, and turned quite sick.--In the basket which Spitz had carried so faithfully lay the poor little dog's OWN TAIL! * * * * * What took place during the rest of the entertainment, I have never been able or anxious to learn; but this I know, that there is a single gentleman now living with Madame Konisgunda Von Speck, in the beautiful town of Polkwitz, a gentleman, who, if he has one prejudice in the world, has that of hating the Jewish nation--a gentleman who goes to church regularly, and, above all, never eats meat in Lent. He is followed about by a little dog--a little ugly dog--of which he and Madame Von Speck are outrageously fond; although, between ourselves, the animal's back is provided with no more tail than a cannon-ball. "THIS NIGHT VAUXHALL WILL CLOSE FOR EVER!" (BY LAMAN BLANCHARD.) [Illustration] These were the words--or rather, this was the line of heartbreaking octosyllabic verse--that met the gaze of the living on every dead wall of the metropolis. They stared at me from the newspapers, they glared on me from the shoulders of perambulating board-men, they rang in my ears everywhere--Vauxhall will close _for ever_! Had it been the "Pyramids to be sold by auction, by George Robins," or "the positively last fall of the Falls of Niagara;"--had it been the "final extinction of Mount Etna," or "the Moon shining for this night only, after which it will be disposed of to cheesemongers, by sale of candle, or private contract," my spirit had been comparatively untroubled;--but Vauxhall! Truly does our great Wordsworth tell us that there are thoughts which lie too deep for tears. I cannot cry, though this be a crying evil; my pen must weep its ink-drops over the event. Had a dozen Union-workhouses been erected on Epsom downs, or a national school supplanted the grand stand at Doncaster. Had the Bank of England itself been turned into alms-houses, or the Royal Academy announced the last day of drawing--these, and millions of such minor evils, I could well have borne. Some substitute for the departed might yet have been discovered. Were there no bread, cheap or dear, at home or abroad, and all the bakers above-ground had burnt themselves to cinders in their own ovens, still could we have gone to the pastry-cook's for comfort, and have eaten buns. But the Royal Gardens shut!--closed for ever!--hammered down!--the light put out, which no Promethean lampman can relume! Where should Othello go? "The days of my youth," I exclaimed aloud, as I wandered sorrowfully through the brilliant avenues of the doomed garden on the last night--"the days of my youth, where are they?" and an echo answered, "Here we are!" And there they are indeed, buried for ever in dark Vauxhall, knocked down as part of the fixtures, swept away with broken lamps and glasses, with the picked bones of vanished chickens, and the crumbs of French rolls that are past. To have visited Vauxhall, like bricks, for so many years, only to find bricks and Vauxhall becoming one! But what a last night was that! There were many visions in one. From the Vauxhall of Victoria, fancy reverted to the Vauxhall of the first George, and the walks became immediately peopled with periwigged beaux, and courtly dames fresh from the frames of Kneller. Never did living eye behold such a congregation of grotesque beauties, out of a picture-gallery. The paint was brilliant as the great master's canvas, the arrangement of the patches was a triumph of art, the flash of the diamonds made the lamps look dim, the flutter of fans filled the air with a delicious freshness. All the wits of the last century were there, from Steele and Addison to Fielding and Goldsmith, and from these to Sheridan, and the gallant roysterers of a later era. There was Beau Brummell;--it was the first night the world ever saw the astonishing spectacle of a starched cravat--the first night the great Discoverer of Starch ever exhibited to the vulgar gaze his sublime invention. That morning, a friend who called upon him encountered his servant on the stairs, descending from the Beau's dressing-room, with a whole armful of stiffened but rumpled cravats--there were at least seventy of the curiosities.--"What, in the name of mystery, have you got there?" inquired the friend,--"what _are_ those _things_?" "These, sir?" responded the valet,--"O, _these are our failures_!" The beau's cravat justified that night, by the perfection of its folds, the multiplicity of experiments. That seventy-first trial was indeed a triumph. * * * * * In the twinkle of an eye, what a change!--Beau Brummell had disappeared for ever! Renown and grace were dead. The stately dames had gone: fans, feathers, diamonds--all; and in their place appeared a very queer collection of feminine miscellanies, young and old, some from the country, some from the outskirts of the metropolis, dodging here and there, rushing from sight to sight, too eager and excited to see anything clearly; expressing their wonder in mingled peals of "My eye!" "Well, raally now!" and "Lauk-a-mercy!"--exclamations which were interrupted by frequent appeals to a bag of thick, home-manufactured sandwiches, borne on the arm--or critical observations on the ginger beer. The beaux, too, had vanished; and instead of the Sir Plumes, revelling in the "nice conduct of their clouded canes," came a crowd of London lads, with boots innocent of Warren and hands guiltless of gloves--creatures, at the bare sight of whom through a telescope, Sir Plume himself would have fainted. And as for the wits--behold, where they of late perambulated, a troop of practical jokers, staggering forwards through the walks, or gathered in twos and threes and half-dozens in the supper-boxes, extinguishing lamps, smashing crockery, beating in the crowns of hats, and it may be smoking cigars in a kind of open secrecy. * * * * * Short, however, is the duration of this scene. Retreating into another walk, out of the way of the reeling revellers, I obtained a new view of the yet famed and once fashionable gardens; and now, methought, their glory was indeed departed. The place, which before was brighter than the day, seemed the temple of Twilight. The most brilliant lamp it boasted shed but a miserable dimness round. The genius of Vauxhall was in the position of Damocles--only, instead of the sword it was a hammer that was suspended over her. Nothing flourished there but the universal enemy--Decay. The gardens seemed to hold a place between Earth and the Eternal Shades. The words "Darkness Visible," formed the most conspicuous object,--the letters, of an enormous size, were composed of grey and black lamps, which the rain, descending in torrents, was fast putting out. A transparency, representing Melancholy playing the bagpipes, had a very striking and sombre effect; and another exhibition of a fountain that had ceased playing, with a pair of black swans floating in the puddle beneath, proved truly attractive to the few low-spirited stragglers that remained. A beautiful dioramic view of the Elysian fields, brilliantly illuminated, drew my attention; but on going to look, I saw nothing but a few acres of gloomy waste land, with a board, displaying the notice, "This ground to let on building leases." The farce performed in the rotunda was "Blue Devils," at some of the scenes in which the audience were quite broken-hearted, and the actors were called for amidst general sobs. In the orchestra, the muffled drum was extremely admired; the violins, reduced to one string, crumbled under the hands of the players like touchwood, otherwise their notes would have been highly dispiriting; the larger instruments spoke in hollow murmurs; the flutes gave forth the parting sighs breathed into them by the asthmatic and fading musicians. Ramo Samee, reduced to a nonentity, flung the balls up without even an effort to catch them, and the sword, like Macbeth's amen, "stuck in his throat." One "swallow" would have been a summer to him. The waiters went about with umbrellas and lanterns to collect orders. Through their threadbare, meagre, fleecy habiliments--coats of Scotch mist, and continuations of London fog--might be traced their thin and fleshless forms. Something sharper than penury had worn them to the bones--the sense that their occupation was gone. They shuffled from walk to walk, from box to box, carrying broken plates with faint impressions of various delicacies; semi-sandwiches were on some, and on others were exhibited narrow slices of transparent and shadowy ham. The soda-water they brought had caught the hue of the bottles, and it trickled forth in showers of tears. The sparkling champagne was perfectly still; the very punch was "drowned" in the bowl, spiritless and stagnant. The chicken looked as if it had been deposited for the last few years in the mummy-room of the British Museum. The tongue might have belonged to the first fat buck shot by Robin Hood. Those weak, wan, dilapidated waiters! Those fossil remains of a forlorn hope! As the night advanced they grew more attenuated. The "any orders?" dwindled to a whisper, and the "coming, sir!" lapsed into a scarcely audible sigh. They had hardly strength enough left to carry away the fragments of a tart. They glided about like ghosts amidst the expiring lamps. Another hour elapsed, and everything denoted the End of the Change. Ruin had seized on all. The arrack dried up in the bowl, ere it could be carried to the appointed box. Every glass was cracked, every fork had forfeited a prong; and in the darkness and confusion men carved with the handles of their knives, macadamising their suppers! The trees and shrubs lost their natural character, and became yews and cypresses; and extending from branch to branch were to be seen large cobwebs, having the hue and substance of slices of boiled beef. Then there was a general rush through the rain to see the Invisible Fireworks. What a sight was that! The catherine wheels were stationary; the rockets changed their minds as they were going up, and the whiz was but a consumptive cough; the Roman candles had all been accommodated with extinguishers; and the shells broke their inflammatory hearts in smoke and silence. Three reluctant and doubtful bangs from a solitary cracker sounded the requiem of the Pyrotechnic art! Then methought the company began to "disperse" indeed. Arms put themselves within other arms, and moved on, while the legs that had once belonged to them sought the promenade in another direction, and dragged themselves across it as over a ploughed field. The persevering and inexhaustible spirit of Vauxhall, however, was yet animate in some; and my eye caught glimpses of strange groups--parts of people--sometimes the lower extremities--sometimes the upper--disjointed dancers, all performing quadrilles in spasmodic movements, under umbrellas, to inaudible music, supplied by the Apparitions of Fiddlers. * * * * * Now came, on a sudden, another change. A light appeared in what had always been the dark walks of the garden, and as it advanced exhibited the figure of the celebrated Old Hermit. His head hung on his breast, as with a consciousness that his hour of oblivion was nigh, and he carried his closed volume under his arm. Another figure, scarcely less shadowy, joined him; it was Simpson,--yea, Simpson's self! the unforgotten master of the ceremonies. They advanced, arm in arm; and as they approached the spot on which I stood, riveted with awe, who should make his appearance, as though he descended from the air, but a third great adventurer--one equally immortal, but happily far more mortal than either--the undaunted and untiring aeronaut, Mr. Green! On the instant, the ground beneath opened, and the great Nassau balloon sprung upward, already filled with gas. I saw that the _finale_ had arrived. Green embraced the ghost of the departed master, and, surrendering his own place, handed him into the car, into which he was followed by many of the unfading luminaries of the "property" in past and present times. In the moment of ascent, Simpson, my venerable preceptor in the arts of politeness, the acquaintance of my youth, perceived me in the crowd; he stretched forth a hand, which felt as cold, damp, and impalpable as fog, and, shaking mine, exclaimed with his usual urbanity, "One pinch at--parting?" I felt in my pocket for my snuff-box, eager for a friendly participation, when suddenly--quick as lightning, in fact--I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder; and on looking round-- I found myself amidst the old well known blaze of lights, surrounded by myriads of smart and merry loungers, with police constable 142 X arousing me as people are aroused from dreams, and saying, for my comfort, "Come sir, come! Why, you're asleep as you walk. You've been robbed, I tell you; for your pocket's turned inside out." * * * * * I got home about three, and at last fell asleep in reality. I dreamed that Vauxhall Gardens were entirely built over, covered with finished and half-finished houses, in streets and terraces; and that I was actually reposing at that moment in No. 16, Arrack-place, looking upon Sky-rocket-crescent. Methought there was a universal complaint among the inhabitants, of supernatural noises in the night. Not a wink was to be had for the tunings of musical instruments, the calling for waiters, the shouting of "encore," the mingling of thousands of voices; all crowned with peals of laughter, and whispers of "How tired I am, sure-ly!" Each night at twelve, every occupier of a tenement on that famous site was awakened from his first sleep by a multitudinous exclamation of, "O! Oh! Oh-h-h!" accompanied by a light, blue, red, green, yellow, et cetera, and a shower of falling sparks. [Illustration "The cloud-capp'd trees, the gorgeous avenues, The brilliant lamps, the blazing fireworks, The gilded saloons, the slender sandwiches, Yea, the great Rotunda itself, Shall dissolve-- And leave not _arrack_ behind!" _Simpson and Shakspeare._ ] [Illustration] A Tale of the Times of Old. It was a Maiden young and fair, She sat and watch'd within her bower, In days of yore when warriors were, And belted knight, and moated tower; Long, long ago! She sat and watch'd one summer's eve-- Why doth she so? Why will not she her lattice leave? Ah, those were days when maids were true! The hour was come,--and well she knew. It was a Squire, a gentle squire, Came spurring darkly down below; His steed was splashed with foam and mire, Oh, what but love could urge him so? 'Twas even so, He crept beneath the castle-wall, Long, long ago, And on his love began to call; The damsel o'er her lattice hung, He touch'd his lute, and thus he sung: "They told me, love, that thou wert fair, And very fair thou art, 'tis true; They said thy cheeks like roses were, Thy lips, 'two rosebuds wet with dew;' But is it so? Could ever flower with thee compare? Ah no! ah no! Oh never yet was rose so fair! Could flowers like thee in gardens grow, The gardeners all were blithe, I trow. "They said thine eye was like the star, The brightest star that beams above, Which men may gaze on from afar, Admire and watch, in fear and love; But is it so? Was ever star so soft and fair? Ah no! ah no! Oh, would such stars in heaven there were How glad I'd watch till morning's light, To peep and worship all the night." It was her Sire, a surly knight, He slept, and slept, with many a snore; He heard the song, and woke in spite, And left his couch, y-grumbling sore. He look'd below, Then seized a huge cold-water bath-- Long, long ago-- And flung it o'er, in rage and wrath!-- The squire flew off, the damsel fled, And then the knight went back to bed. B. HALL. AN ANACREONTIC FABLE. [Illustration] Cupid, a spoiled and peevish boy, Is always wanting some new toy; And what is more, his mother Venus Never denies--_quodcunque genus_-- Any odd thing the urchin fancies, From kings and queens to scullery Nancies. His fondling mother, t' other day, Gave him some hearts wherewith to play; No sooner did the rascal take them, Than he began to bruise and break them! H. R. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER VII. From the moment that war was declared against the French republic, the navy of England reigned supreme upon the ocean; and such was the vigilance and gallantry of our tars, that scarcely a cruiser showed her nose out of an enemy's harbour, but she was quickly led by it into a British port. The captain of the Thunderbolt was a thorough seaman of the hard-fighting school, and with such an example in his commander, and with a private tutor like honest Ben, to teach him the practical details, young Heartwell could not fail to become well versed in his several duties. In Lord Bridport's action, off L'Orient, his ship was one of those most actively engaged, and gained great credit; but on her return into port, she was paid off, and the whole of her company transferred to a noble three-decker, which subsequently took the lead in the mutiny at Spithead. It is unnecessary to enter into details of this event--in which the enemies of England sought to injure and humble the flag of Britannia, through the disaffection of her hardy seamen. Emissaries were constantly at work, endeavouring to inflame their passions, and poison the source of honour; but though the gallant tars were true to themselves, and to each other, they were also faithful to their country. Ben, as a matter of course, had joined his brother sailors in their equitable demands, and Sambo had very naturally followed the example. Frank's conduct, during this eventful period, was governed by the strictest sense of integrity. He was well aware that the claims of the seamen had been utterly disregarded by the government; and though averse to insubordination, yet he felt that they had been driven to extremities through the neglect of their remonstrances. But on all occasions in which the most violent counselled outrage, he boldly stood forward to counteract and oppose their schemes, and by appeals to those who only sought to obtain redress of grievances he was generally successful; especially in one instance, when Sir Alan Gardner, Sir John Colpoys, and Sir Maurice Pole, came on board the Queen Charlotte, to hold a conference with the delegates. Sir Alan, a rigid disciplinarian, who had been extremely irritable throughout the proceedings, was so exasperated by a fresh demand, that he swore at the delegates as "A set of mutinous dogs," and declared he would "have every one of them hanged--together with every fifth man in the fleet." The circumstance spreading through the ship like wildfire, the after-part of the main-deck was crowded by hundreds, ready to support their leaders. The sturdy admiral gave them a look of defiance, and shouting "Make a lane there!" spread his hands out on each side to force his way to the entrance-port--nor was he sparing of blows. Frank had witnessed the whole of the proceedings, and now saw with apprehension, that a number of the most violent characters were closing in upon Sir Alan. In all commotions, Ben and the black made it a point to keep near their young officer, and at this moment they were close to him. Frank spoke to the seaman, who passed the word to Sambo, and then all three rushed forward; Ben exclaiming, "Avast there--don't go for to touch the admiral!" Numbers of the better-minded caught up the impulse, and followed the three, who cleared a road for Sir Alan to retreat; Ben and the black levelling the opposition. The admiral got down the side into his boat, and immediately shoved off for the shore. Sir Alan Gardner did not forget this timely aid of the young midshipman, for on Earl Howe coming down to settle the disputes, Frank was appointed to steer Sir Alan's barge; when the noble earl and his countess, accompanied by several persons of distinction, embarked to pay an amicable visit to the ships at St. Helen's and Spithead. It was a most interesting spectacle; the barges of the men-of-war each carrying its delegates assembled, on a May morning, and pulled in for the sally-port. The men were dressed in their best clothes, and the most perfect order and regularity was preserved, whilst the seamen on board the ships were anxiously watching them, for rumours were current that the earl had brought down the required proclamation, ensuring a general pardon. On landing, the delegates proceeded to the governor's house, where they had an audience of the earl, and an affecting scene it was. The venerable nobleman in his seventy-second year--his head silvered over with age and arduous service, and arrayed in the uniform in which he had so nobly maintained British supremacy on the ocean, received the rebellious seamen graciously; and it was curious to observe the downcast and schoolboy looks of many of the hardy tars, who, but a few hours before, were in open and daring mutiny. But when the noble admiral, in the affectionate language of a father to his children, exhorted them to obedience and subordination, and even shed tears, as he declared that a continuance of the mutinous proceedings would break his heart, the rough dispositions of the seamen gave way, not in childish weakness--no! they evinced their stern emotion in habits peculiar to themselves, though it was evident every soul was moved. There stood their chief who had led them on to victory, subdued by the weight of calamity which had threatened his country. After partaking of refreshment, in which the bold tars were waited upon by female youth and beauty, a procession was formed, and Earl Howe and his lady, with the admirals and captains, several accompanied by their families, walked to the sally-port. During the interval Frank had proceeded to the Royal Sovereign's barge; and when first recognised, he was pointed out as the midshipman who had been instrumental in resisting the indignation of the Queen Charlotte's men, and rescuing Sir Alan Gardner, and numbers of the disaffected loudly expressed their disapprobation. Ben held the distinguished post of coxswain to Lord Bridport; but as a lieutenant was expected to steer Earl Howe out to the fleet, he had resigned the rudder in the Queen Charlotte's barge, and stationed himself at the stroke oar. The moment the honest fellow saw the feeling that prevailed against his officer, he addressed the boat's crew in a few energetic words, appealing to them who knew the merits of the midshipman, as a smart officer, but a seaman's firm friend. It was a day of joy and reconciliation; and they felt it; for whilst the tumult against Frank was increasing, the bargemen of the Queen Charlotte simultaneously approached him, and having given a hearty cheer, he was hoisted on the shoulders of two of the stoutest amongst them, and in procession with the Union Jack in front, they carried him to and fro the beach, amidst the reiterated plaudits of thousands who had collected to witness the embarkation. This demonstration from his shipmates was enough; the bargemen of the other men-of-war were satisfied; and those who but a few minutes before had been loud in their anger, were now equally vociferous in their praise. In the midst of their joyousness, Earl Howe and the delegates reached the sally-port, and instantly the boats were manned; and as they shoved off, and formed in order, the roars of the saluting cannon and the shouts of the populace mingled together in one vast burst of enthusiasm; and as the boats neared the ships, their armed sides poured forth responsive peals--the yards were manned--and joy sparkled in every eye. Frank acquitted himself with great dexterity throughout the day, and all differences being adjusted with the seamen, they returned to the shore, where Earl Howe landed, about seven o'clock in the evening, and was carried on the shoulders of the delegates to the governor's house. Thus peace and harmony were restored to the Channel fleet, which put to sea on the following day, to meet the enemy. Frank had now been three years away from his mother, without seeing her; and though they frequently corresponded, he earnestly longed to visit her again. The capture of an extremely valuable ship from Senegal, in which Frank was placed as second prize-master, afforded him an opportunity of returning to England, and as on her arrival at Portsmouth she was ordered to proceed up the Thames to Deptford, he now was enabled to repair to Finchley. It would be impossible to describe the young midshipman's feelings as he approached the cottage. Helen was for the moment forgotten: he opened the door, and in a few moments was in the embrace of his parent. The interesting scene was not unobserved, for in a remote part of the room sat a young lady, a gratified but agitated spectator of all that passed. As soon as the ebullition of joy had subsided, Mrs. Heartwell called her visitor to remembrance, and Frank and Helen met--at first with a degree of embarrassment, for they had in their memory pictured each other as they had last parted, nearly four years before, when both were in the gradual advance from childhood to maturity. Frank was then but a youth, but now he appeared the full-grown man, and seldom could there be seen a handsomer, or more candid countenance. Now he saw Helen before him in the perfection of female beauty, just entered upon womanhood; and yet both heart and features were the same, for as soon as the first few minutes had flown, reserve was banished and they conversed with ease as old acquaintances. In private retirement the young officer learned from his mother and Mr. Unity Peach, (who came purposely to see him, and to grumble at all that he had done) that Brothers, the supposed prophet, had been apprehended under a warrant from the privy council; and after careful examination by two able physicians, had been declared insane, and placed in Fisher's Lunatic Asylum, at Islington--that nothing had been heard respecting Brady, who it was supposed, had quitted the kingdom for ever. The young people had now frequent opportunities of seeing each other, and every interview served to strengthen the ardent attachment which both cherished, but neither of them confessed. A little incident, in which Frank had relieved Helen from an importunate and insulting mendicant, who had intruded upon the grounds, first opened the eyes of Mr. Wendover. The merchant loved money, and he had, in a great measure, set his heart upon aggrandising his name and family, through Helen's union with a man of rank and opulence. Without leading her to think that he was aware of her regard, he spoke to her on the subject of Frank's attentions, gained a full and perfect knowledge of her secret, and ascertained that in no instance had Frank addressed her in what is termed the language of love, nor had at any time openly avowed his affection. Mr. Wendover at once acquitted both Mrs. Heartwell and her son of sinister and dishonourable conduct; but his own line of procedure was determined upon, and he resolved to remove his daughter without delay to an estate he had recently purchased on the coast of Cornwall, where he trusted that absence would effect a change in the bosom of his child. Great was the consternation of the young officer, when on his next visit he heard of their sudden and unexpected departure; and his impassioned and incoherent expressions when it was announced to him, betrayed the state of his heart to his mother. It was the first disappointment of the kind he had ever experienced, and its suddenness had overpowered him; but the reasoning and remonstrances of his parent restored him to more tranquil feelings. She encouraged him "to persevere in his profession, and by gaining an honoured and distinguished name, he perhaps might remove the bar which parental authority had seen fit to interpose between them." "You are right, mother," said he with firmness. "I will yet prove to Mr. Wendover that I am not unworthy of his daughter's regard." The prize he had come home in was condemned, and the prize-crew were removed to the guard-ship at the Nore; but Frank obtained leave to pass a few days at Finchley previous to his joining them, and the indulgence thus extended was a source of great relief to his irritated feelings. [Illustration: _Frank Heartwell discovering the treasure._ London, Tilt & Bogue, Fleet Street.] A night or two before his departure, he was awoke by a strange noise. At first he conjectured it might be caused by rats, and he endeavoured to compose himself to sleep again; but the sounds were so continuous and harsh, that after some time he rose and looked out at the window, when it instantly ceased. He stood for several minutes, earnestly gazing towards the splendid mansion of Mr. Wendover, his thoughts wholly absorbed by remembrances of Helen; and when he again laid himself down, sleep had utterly departed. In a few minutes the strange noise was renewed. Frank listened, and the hollow grating sounds seemed to be caused by some one scraping the outer wall of the building. He arose, and wrapping his cloak round him, crept noiselessly down to the door--the knocking on the building still continued, but ceased as he undid the fastenings, so that when he stood in the open air everything was again still. He had descended without his shoes, which he returned to put on, and then walked round the cottage and through the garden, but nothing whatever appeared to elucidate the mystery. The next night he was aroused again by a noise rather more dull and heavy; as the rear of the building seemed to be the place of operation, he crept down to the back-door, and rushed out just in time to see a man jump down from a ladder reared against the gable-end. The intruder sprang over the wall and escaped. Without removing the ladder, Frank determined to watch; and though once or twice he fancied he could perceive a commotion amongst the foliage of the adjoining plantation, yet he remained unmolested till broad daylight, when he ascertained that the intruder had been working with a pick, to loosen several bricks in a part of the wall that was covered with ivy, and at a few feet below the eavings. A little reflection prompted Frank to further search; and by removing the thick mantling ivy he discovered that, at some period or other, an addition had been made to the side of the building, and that there was a considerable space between the outside and the in. His curiosity was strongly excited--the apartment he had slept in appeared to be everywhere the same; but on sounding round it, he ascertained that the part next to that where an attempt had been made to open an aperture, was of stout wood-work, carefully covered with the same papering as that which was on the other walls of the room. He was not long in deciding what to do. Seizing a tomahawk, which had formerly belonged to Ben, he cut down the partition, and taking a light, passed through the opening he had made into a long narrow room that ran the whole depth of the house. Surprised as he was at this discovery, his wonder was still more increased, when ranged in various parts he observed several strong cases and boxes. On his right appeared an iron-bound oaken chest, on the top of which lay a cushion now damp and mouldy, but it was evident that it had formerly been used as a sort of seat or couch, as a table was close to it, bearing a lantern, a wine-glass, an inkstand with a pen in it, and remnants of writing-paper much torn by vermin. Suspended against the wall above the table were a brace of handsomely-mounted horseman's pistols, a dragoon's sword, a blunderbuss, and a bunch of rusty keys, whilst beneath was a stone bottle containing a small quantity of ardent spirits, and an empty wine-bottle. In other parts were books and papers much defaced, and the writing scarcely legible, whilst in one spot upon the floor were four or five canvas bags, part of the contents of which (guineas) had escaped through holes gnawed at the bottom, and now lay glittering before the eyes of the young officer. In the floor of this room was a trap-door, which Frank raised up, and perceived there was a ladder beneath, down which he descended, and found himself in an apartment of the same dimensions as the one above, but more lofty, and a strange sensation crept over him, as he beheld what looked like coffins piled one upon the other, but on examination proved to be arm-chests, painted black, and containing muskets and bayonets. There were also several barrels (which Frank, from experience, knew at once to be powder-barrels), placed apart by themselves; and the head of one of them having been beaten-in, a quantity of ball-cartridge became exposed;--in short, with pistols and sabres, and the necessary accoutrements, there was good equipment in arms and ammunition for several hundred men. From this room a flight of stone steps, slimy with reptiles and the damp, led into a kind of cellar, having in one corner a very large copper, and at a short distance from it a deep well; whilst broken worms and shattered liquor-casks, with the remains of various implements, offered proofs that an illicit distillery had formerly been carried on here. On one side was a vaulted underground passage, arched over, that was nearly filled with rubbish; but Frank, following its apparent direction in the garden, ascertained that it led to a stable (which was seldom used) at some distance in the rear of the cottage; and here he found that attempts had been made to break through a doorway that had been bricked-up, and an opening formed, large enough for a man to get through, but the archway having fallen in, and the passage completely stopped, further progress had been prevented that way. Frank and his mother consulted together as to the best course to be pursued; and Mrs. Heartwell recommended her son to go and apprise Mr. Wendover's steward of the discovery. That individual promptly attended, accompanied by a legal agent, who informed the young midshipman that he had no claim whatever to the property, which belonged as a matter of right to the lord of the manor, and he accordingly took possession for Mr. Wendover; and before his departure, Frank saw the whole deposited in security at the Hall. HOW TO RAISE THE WIND. BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT, R.N. The votaries of Fashion are considered heartless. Can they well be otherwise, when they worship a deity so remorseless and so unfeeling? Fashion not only ruins her own followers, but she is continually plunging into poverty and distress those who know nothing of her until they find that through her means they have become outcasts, deprived of their means of subsistence, and that their children are crying for bread. It is no matter how trifling may be the alteration which has been enforced by this despotic goddess, this is certain, that that alteration has been the cause of misery to hundreds; and if the step taken by her is one of magnitude, not only thousands, but whole towns, nay provinces, on the Continent are thrown from want of employment into misery. The town of Woodstock is one proof, out of many, how severely a community may suffer from change in fashion. The gloves formerly made there, and the manufacture of which had become a trade and means of livelihood to so many large families, are now no longer worn. The people had been brought up to this trade, and were not competent to any other, until they had begun anew and learnt one in their advanced life. Woodstock was once a flourishing town; now it has dwindled into comparative obscurity. Thus it has been, thus it is, and thus it will be with many more; for Fashion ever changes, and every change is accompanied with a petty revolution, attended with distress, which her votaries, glorying in their close attendance upon her ear, either never hear of, or which, if heard by them, is received with nonchalance and indifference. I have been drawn into the above remarks in consequence of my whole story depending upon an article which is now no longer to be seen--indeed, I may add, is no longer to be mentioned but in a circuitous manner. Why this extreme squeamishness has latterly taken place I really cannot imagine. A garment is but a garment; and as we may talk of all other garments used by either sex without fear of offence, why should this one have latterly fallen into disgrace? At all events, I must either mention this unmentionable article, or not tell my story. I have, therefore, only now to give due notice to all ladies who may already surmise what the article in question may be, that now is the proper time for them to close the book, or to skip over to the next contribution, for my narrative is wholly dependent upon a pair of them. I remember when I was a boy, I should say about forty years ago, when this article of dress was considered not only to be indispensable, but also indispensable that it was made of buckskin. It was worn high up, reaching to the chest, met with a very short waistcoat; add to these a blue coat and metal buttons, and the hair well powdered, and a fashionable man of 1800 stood before you. There were inconveniences attending buckskin; but when Fashion dictates, her votaries overcome all obstacles; _Pride knows no pain_, is an English proverb, met by one from the opposite side of the Channel, _Il faut souffrir pour être belle_. The difficulty of getting into a pair of these articles, after they had been cleaned, was considerable; and when they became wet, they were anything but comfortable to the wearer. However, they have passed away, and this country has gained by their disappearance; for the leather out of which they were made came from the Continent, and the wool of this country has now occupied its place, in the cloth trousers which have succeeded them. And now to my story. Before railroads were dreamt of, and people were satisfied with eight miles an hour, there was a certain person at Liverpool, who had gone down there on some sort of speculation or another; but whether it was to purchase cotton, or to attend the races, or to do a little business in any other way, does not exactly appear. This, however, is certain, that his speculations, whatever they might have been, failed, and that he found himself in the widest street in the town with exactly one guinea left in his pocket. One guinea would not pay his fare to London, whither he had decided upon going. He was, therefore, left to his own resources; that is, the resources of an ingenious mind, to help the one-pound-one, which was in his waistcoat-pocket. It was not until he had walked up and down the long street for at least the tenth time that he came to any resolution: at last he slapped his buckskins, as much as to say _I have it_, and walking on a little farther, he looked at the clock which was in the coach-office, crossed the street, and went over to the hotel, which was directly opposite. But I must now describe the appearance and dress of the person in question. He was a man of about thirty-five years of age, of handsome exterior, tall, and well made; he wore powder, a white cravat, a blue coat, very short figured waistcoat, and the articles in question, to wit, a pair of buckskin inexpressibles, to which must be added a pair of white top-boots. He had also a surtout-coat, of fine cloth, over all, but which was unbuttoned when he entered the hotel. In short, he appeared to be a dandied, rakish sort of gentleman of the time, with a look and manner implying that he had plenty of money to spend, and did not care a fig for anybody. No one could have ever imagined, with such an external appearance, that he had no more than one guinea in his pocket. Our gentleman walked into the coffee-room of the hotel, and took his seat in one of the boxes, with an air of pretension. In an authoritative tone he called the waiter, and when the waiter came, he called for the bill of fare, which was humbly presented. Our gentleman ran down its contents. "I'll have a bit of fish, waiter,--which do you recommend to day?" "All good, sir; but cod and oyster-sauce just in season." "Well, then, let it be so, with a broiled chicken and mushrooms. If I recollect right, you had some good wine here once?" "Yes, sir--we have the same bin now--the port you mean, sir?" "Yes, the port; tell Mr.---- I forget the landlord's name." "Mr. Bansom." "Very true;--tell Bansom to let me have a bottle of his best, and a pint of good madeira for dinner." "Yes, sir. When will you have your dinner?" "As soon as it can be got ready. In the mean time get me a newspaper." In due time the dinner made its appearance, and ample justice was done to it by our gentleman. After the cloth was removed, the port wine was produced, and this he appeared determined to enjoy, as he remained at table sipping it until every other person who had been in the coffee-room had quitted it, and he was left alone. He then poured out the last glass, rang the bell, and demanded his bill. It was all ready:-- £ _s._ _d._ Fish 0 2 6 Fowl and mushrooms 0 5 6 Madeira 0 4 0 Port 0 7 0 ------------- Total, including extras 1 4 6 "Not dear, I must say," observed the gentleman, after he had read the bill; "I must patronise this house again. The port is really good wine; I knew it again directly,--£1. 4_s._ 6_d._--half-a-crown for the waiter, £1. 7_s._" Then the gentleman put his hand into his right waistcoat pocket, and felt for his purse, found it not there, so he inserted his other hand into his left waistcoat pocket, no purse there.--"Hum," says he, with surprise; down went his right hand into the pocket of his buckskins on the right side, no purse there; down into the left, even to the bottom, no purse there.--"The devil!" exclaimed he, feeling his coat pockets, as a last hope--both empty. "Why, waiter, I've left my purse!" exclaimed he, rising up from his seat; "and now, I perceive, I've not my watch and seals. I must have left them both on the table. You don't recollect me--what must I do?" "If you please," replied the waiter, respectfully, coming to the point, "you must pay your bill." "Of course I must," replied the gentleman; "I cannot expect you to trust me; what can I do? I must leave you something in pledge." "If you please, sir," replied the waiter. "What shall it be--my surtout coat? I can spare that." "Yes, sir," replied the waiter, who surveyed his coat, and was satisfied; "that will do." "Well, then, help me with it off. On second thoughts, I do not think I can let you have my coat, I have suffered so dreadfully with the rheumatism in my shoulders. I dare not, upon my soul, I daren't; you must have something else. What shall it be--my boots, my new white top-boots?" "I think, sir, you couldn't well walk away in stockings without getting cold and rheumatism," replied the waiter. "Very true, what a fool I am! but so unaccustomed to be placed in so awkward a position, I do believe I've lost my senses--to give my boots were madness. I'll tell you how it shall be, waiter, I'll give you my buckskins--bran new--worth two pair of boots; I shan't miss them if I walk fast and button up." "As you please, sir," replied the waiter. After a deal of trouble, the buckskins were in the hands of the waiter; our gentleman pulled on his boots again, buttoned his surtout close in front, and promising to redeem them faithfully by his servant the next morning, quitted the hotel, holding himself very erect, that no opening in the front of his surtout should discover that he was minus so very important and indispensable an article of habiliment. Our gentleman did not walk very far; he crossed the street and entered the hotel which was opposite to the one which he had just quitted, and from which he knew that the coaches went to London. Again he walked into the coffee-room, took his seat without his deficiencies being perceived, and calling the waiter, said to him--"The coach starts from this hotel to London, I believe?" "Yes, sir." "At what hour?" "At half-past five exactly, sir." "Well, then, I shall take a supper and a bed; and here," continued he, throwing his guinea down on the table, "book me an inside place by the name of Mr. William Baring." The waiter had heard of the name before, and bowed respectfully. "Any luggage, sir?" "No, I took my place this night by the mail, and was compelled to stay on important business just as I was getting into the coach. My luggage went on, I shall find it when I arrive." Our gentleman ordered a good supper, and at half-past ten requested to be shown to his bed-room. "Boots," said he, "recollect you call me at half-past four exactly, as I am hard of waking. Don't forget; and if you don't see me getting up in five minutes, rouse me again." "Yes, sir," replied the Boots. At half-past four the Boots made his appearance with a lanthorn, and after some considerable shaking, our gentleman roused up and sat by the side of the bed. The Boots had lighted the candle, and stood by. "Yaw--aw!" said our gentleman, shaking himself and yawning. "How horrid it is to be up before daylight. Ah, well! Boots, give me my stockings." "Yes, sir." The stockings were slowly dragged on. "Now then Boots, my buckskins." The Boots turned over the other garments, looked here and there, and upon every chair; at the foot of the bed, and in the bed, under the pillow, under the bolster. "I can't see no buckskins, sir." "Pooh, nonsense! man." Another useless turn round the room. "Well, I'm sure, sir, I can't see them." "How very odd!" exclaimed our gentleman; "perhaps I'm sitting on them." He rose, but there were no buckskins under him. "How excessively strange! You didn't take them away with you when you took the boots, did you?" "No, sir; I never comed into the room. You put your boots outside." "So I did, now I recollect; but still the buckskins must be found." Another ineffectual search of five minutes, during which our gentleman gradually showed that the serenity of his temper was ruffling, till at last he became in a furious passion. "By heavens! this is too bad: in a respectable house, too. Boots, go up to your master, and tell him I must see him immediately--say immediately, and without delay--Mr. William Baring--recollect, instantly!" In a few minutes the landlord of the hotel made his appearance, half dressed, and not very well pleased at being compelled to turn out at such an unseasonable hour; but the name of Baring had been mentioned, and was not to be trifled with. "You wish to speak to me, sir?" "Yes, sir, I do wish to speak to you. I came here last night, having been obliged to give up my place in the seven o'clock mail, in consequence of pressing and important business which detained me. I booked myself by the fast coach, supped and slept here, desiring that I might be called in good time, as my immediate return to London is important. On my being called and getting up, I found that somebody had stole my buck-skins--that's all--nothing more. My buckskins--buckskins, sir, have disappeared!" "I'm very sorry, sir--very sorry; can't imagine how. Some mistake, I presume," stammered the landlord. "My buckskins are gone, sir, and no mistake," replied our gentleman. "I considered this a respectable honest house, sir, but it appears----" This attack upon the respectability of the house made the landlord angry--it was a sore point. "My house is respectable, sir--always has been respectable, sir--always will be, I trust. No gentleman ever lost his buckskins here before, sir. What they brought they have always taken away!" "Why, sir!" exclaimed our gentleman, in a towering passion, "what do you mean to imply, sir? Do you suppose that a gentleman would come here _without_ such an _indispensable_ article of dress?" "No, sir, no," replied the landlord, who cooled down as his adversary became excited; "I didn't mean to say that, sir." "Then you'll just hear what I have to say, sir," replied our gentleman: "I'm not to be robbed in this barefaced way;--and the credit of your house, sir, is gone; for as soon as I arrive in town, I will write a letter to the Times, Chronicle, Herald, Post, and Morning Advertiser, stating the whole of the infamous transaction, and sign it with _my own name_, sir--with my own name; and then we shall see how long you are in a position to rob the public in this way. Yes, sir, and my lawyer shall send you a letter, as soon as I arrive in town, for an action of damages and recovery, sir." Then our gentleman walked rapidly up and down the room, his shirt waving to and fro as if it was as much excited as himself. "I'm very sorry, sir--very sorry," said the landlord; "but, sir, I have a pair of double-milled trousers which I think would fit you, so as to enable you to go to town, until the buckskins can be replaced." "Double-milled! thank you, sir. You appear to consider my loss as only amounting to a pair of buckskins, Mr. Landlord; but who, sir, is to repay me the forty pounds and upwards, in bank-notes, which were in the pockets of my buckskins--heh! sir?" This was, indeed, a new feature in the case, which the landlord did not expect. "Forty pounds odd, sir!" exclaimed the landlord. "Yes, sir, forty pounds. Let me see, forty-four pounds exactly. Now, sir, is that money to be forthcoming?--in one word, sir--there is no time to lose. If I miss the coach, I post all the way to town at your expense, as soon as I have procured something to put on. The house of Baring can't go to town in its shirt--the house of Baring will be revenged, sir--your treatment is past bearing, and--I give you five minutes to decide." The landlord did decide. The buckskins had disappeared--the credit of his house was at stake--the house of Baring was his enemy--there was no help for it. The double-milled and £45 were handed over--the wrath of our gentleman was appeased--he even, before he slipped into the coach, promised to patronise the hotel. The coach had been on the road about six hours, when the waiter stepped over to his chum, the waiter of the hotel opposite, to tell him what a shindy there had been about a pair of buckskins; the other waiter produced the buckskins left in pledge; and on their description of our gentleman, no doubt was left but that, although not probable, it was very possible that a gentleman could come into an hotel _without his inexpressibles_. The landlord was almost frantic at having been so imposed upon; but, as usual in all such cases, he soon made up the loss incurred by our gentleman's visit to the hotel, by charging it upon those who came there, not only with buckskins, but with money in their buckskins-pockets; and thus ends my story of "How to raise the Wind; or, the Buckskins." A PEEP AT BARTHOLOMEW FAIR. "Out, out, brief candle!"--MACBETH. Something whispers us that we should here commence moralising, that we should first expatiate on the nothingness of worldly gaud and greatness--enlarge on the changefulness of human prospects, and discover to our readers' view the myriads of blanks with which that fraudulent jade Fortune dilutes the few prizes she dispenses from her wheel. But then again, another something whispers us, we had far better get on with our subject, and we think we had. Be it known then, that ever since a certain morning, (Anno Domini something,) when our nursery-maid walked us through Bartholomew Fair, and showed us _all_ the pretty things, and treated our little palate to one or two of the nice ones, we have felt a remarkable passion for fairs--Bartholomew fair in particular. We will adventure to measure our love for it against that of its tutelar saint--but alas! we forget--it has no tutelar saint now; he has long since turned his back upon it. Yes, when prosperity went hand in hand with it, when joy, mirth, and splendour, were its friends, _then_ could that faithless guardian--but, we must commence again, this is too moral--too moral by half. Once more then. It was the last day of Bartholomew Fair, and from some unaccountable cause, we had not been near the spot. But it was not yet too late. We bustled up at the thought, hastily pinned our handkerchief inside our hat, emptied all our pockets--save one, divested our person of watch and jewelry, (for we hold it heinous to encourage picking and stealing,) and then hurried out in the direction of Smithfield, resolving in the plenitude of our joy to visit every show, have a ride in every swing, take a chance at every penny turn, roll the marble down every tower of Babel, and pink with every winning needle, for the sake of lang syne. Five years had we been away from England--five years had we been absent from our own dear Fair; and yet, how well we remembered our last walk over the same ground, about the same hour, and on the same errand. What pleasure it was now to see that so little change had taken place in the streets! There, stood the old oyster-rooms exactly the same as ever; yonder, was the public-house beside the gateway, just as dirty, just the same people at the doors, just the same noise within as when we last passed by. There was even the same crooked old post at the corner. Recollection seemed as it were to shake hands with these objects as old familiar friends, and we pushed on with even yet more joy in our bosom, and ardent expectation in our heart, to the great--the Prince of Fairs. Our heart leaped for joy as we shot past a little shop, displaying drums, dolls, kettles, portable tea-services, singing cuckoos, bow-wow poodles, and armies of soldiers barracked in flat deal boxes, with a background of whips, scratchers, trumpets, squeakers, diminutive culinary apparatus, and Waterloo-crackers: we say, our heart leaped for very joy at the sight; but it leaped no more that night, for, from that moment disappointment marked us for her own. There now insensibly crept upon us strange forebodings and presentiments that all was not right, for although close upon the fair, we felt no wonted squeeze, heard no confusion of tongues, saw no confluence of people all driving and pouring up the road to one point. No announcements of hot green peas, fried sausages, cooked eels, or other Bartholomew delicacies, came wafted on the breeze;--no ginger-beer stands, corn-plaster venders, brass-sovereign sellers, or spiced-elder-wine compounders, lined the street: the throng was even less than we had seen upon an ordinary cattle-day. We grew frightened; and rushing forward, peeped into the fair itself. In that peep, the thermometer of our joy fell full five hundred degrees below zero. Why, where are the shows? where are the swings? where are the turn-abouts--the round-abouts? where are the people? where, _where_ is the Fair? But down, struggling feelings, down, and let me write calmly. In 1841 there were but TWO SHOWS in the Great Bartholomew Fair! We now walked up the gingerbread walk--the _only_ gingerbread walk. Time had been, when our first act was to store a pocket with the best spiced nuts, for until we had eaten a few of those little cakes, we never felt ourself in the fair; but now, we hadn't the heart to taste one. Nor nuts nor any gauds had charms for us. We gazed with a pitying eye on all. We saw black ruin hovering over and already darkening Smithfield's grandeur--we beheld destruction suspended only by the last weak thread of custom, which Time with his scythe, or pocket-scissors, was about to sever, to the extinction, the total annihilation, of our own--our beloved fair. In consequence of the prohibitory price asked for the lawful groundage, _two_ shows had been forced to take unfurnished lodgings in Hosier-lane. This, was indeed a blow! To see two, old, aboriginal exhibitions--one miscellaneous, the other mechanical, with waxen kings, clock-work queens, and spring-wire princes, barbarously driven from their native fair--unhappy refugees, and sojourners in narrow-streets and Hosier-lanes! Rumours there were too, that one other miserable exile had sought an asylum in a neighbouring farrier's shop; that there, in the front of certain festoons of dirty red cloth which veiled an ugly forge, the pincers, hammers, anvils, and other appurtenances of farriery, wizards were manufacturing puddings in the company's hats, causing real beer to stream from any given part of any little boy, and pulverising watches in mortars, as choice ingredients for soup; but we lacked curiosity to go and test the truth of such reports--these shows were not _in_ the fair, therefore over us possessed no magic influence. With a heavy heart we next sauntered by the groups of stalls, whereon were spread various fruits and seductive viands--articles of savour for such as were edaciously disposed; but nobody seemed hungry; people passed and repassed, and scarcely glanced at the temptations. True, oysters appeared somewhat in demand, as did certain vinegary relishes in tiny white saucers, but as to the more substantial boiled tripe, fried fish, pigs' feet, pickled salmon, &c., none but the smallest boys approached the stalls, and they, not to buy--only to enjoy a look. The very cries of the doll and toy women, as they recommended this article or that to the dreamy by-standers, seemed muffled with sadness; and the gipsy gambler who was casting dice upon an old tea-tray, and relieving one or two dirty-faced urchins of their farthings, seemed to be realising scarcely sufficient to pay for the flaring candle which lighted his dishonesty. We now stood opposite Wombwell's menagerie. This was the star, the Hyperion of the fair--it stood out bright and undaunted as in happier times--it was the last gallant upholder of poor Smithfield's dying splendour. We admit that there was a crowd before this show, but it was not a Bartholomew-fair crowd. There was wanting--that pulling, that pushing, that hallooing, that hooting, that screaming of women, that shrieking of children, that treading on toes, that losing of shoes, that knocking in of hats, that demolishing of bonnets, that crying for help, that squeezing of ribs, that contest between "stream up" and "stream down," which there always was in days of yore. Such, do we remember as the features of a legitimate Bartholomew crowd; whilst from the surrounding shows, there thundered the clanging of gongs, the firing of pistols, the springing of rattles, the bellowing of speaking trumpets, the ringing of bells, the crashing of horns, with fiddles, bag pipes, cymbals, organs, drums, and the hoarse voices of the showmen, all uniting and confusing into one loud, discordant, ceaseless roar--Oh! happy, thrice happy days! To the left of the mighty Wombwell, like some tributary satellite, was a smaller--very much smaller show--a sort of domestic _multum in parvo_--a wee locomotive ark, as it were--into which, on some curious principle of condensation, the ingenious proprietor had compressed a dwarf, an Abyssinian princess with vermilion eyes and snow-white hair, a living skeleton, a remarkably accomplished pig, and several other monstrosities--exclusive of drum, barrel organ, household furniture, and his family. Over the doorway of this accommodative cabin swung an iron dish, in which flared some grease and oakum, that threw a dull flickering light upon the portraiture above the van, which represented, among other things, the ruby-eyed princess combing her silver locks in the presence of company, the dwarf poised in a giant's hand, and the Crichton of pigs engaged in a game of cards. On the steps of this exhibition, dressed in a green velveteen shooting-coat with large moon buttons, and a red shawl wound about his neck, stood the proprietor himself. From top to toe he looked the showman; but the care upon his brow--the spiritless voice in which he reminded the scant mob about him of its being the last night of the fair, and exhorted them not to neglect the golden opportunity of witnessing his pig, dwarf, &c., told us that he, like ourself, was the victim of chagrin and disappointment. There had been a time when his hoarse voice rehearsing his catalogue of prodigies would have been drowned in the clamouring din around him, but now every word, every sentence he uttered, was pitiably distinct. "Now, walk for'ard, walk for'ard!" he exclaimed, his wife accompanying his voice on the watchman's rattle _ad libitum_. "Only a penny remember! one penny there! the last night--one penny!" But nobody moved, nobody walked forward--the whole crowd seemed penniless. "Don't stand fingrin' the suv'rins in yer pocket, young men, till yer vares 'em as thin as vafers and nobody vont take 'em," he continued. "Don't stand a-thinkin' yerselves inter consumptions, but treat yer sveethearts to the vunder o' the fair--come and vitness the most larn'd and eloquentest pig as wos iver born or created--a pig wot's a human bein' in everything but his tail and wices!" He paused, looked wistfully round, whilst his spouse performed a furious interlude upon the watchman's rattle: he then resumed. "Here, here, here, ladies, is the pritty cretur wot'll tell you the 'zact name o' the young man as is dyin' for yer--vether he's dark or light--fat or thin, and vare his country-'ouse is. The livin' skel'ton too, wot eats no other wittles but light and vind! Vun penny; no more, remember! Jist agoin' to begin--vun penny!" He paused again, but his oratory induced only two persons to ascend the steps. "The African princess too," he continued, tapping the illustrious portrait with a cane, "vith silver hair eight foot long, every hair on her head vorth a goulden guinea! Yoye--yoye--yoye, there, walk for'ard and don't be afear'd--Little children is as velcome as big men--Nobody's shut out but dogs and blind people. Yoye--yoye, the dwarf--the dwarf--the dwarf, here--so short, he can't vash his own face vithout he stands on a high stool. Now my little boys, put yer four fard'ns together and see vot you'll niver see agin if yer lives as long as the most oldest donkey--come and see the vunderful pig Toby as'll tell yer how old yer are--vare the key of yer master's till's kept, and vether you're to pick up the five-pun-note a valking home to-night, or next veek!" But to little end is this budget of professional eloquence and strained humour reiterated in the ears of his gaping listeners; very few are so overcome by it as to "walk forward;" such as are, being kept in bondage till their open mutiny and rebellious language compel the proprietor to close the door; the exhibition then commences, and then concludes; and then again comes the Sisyphian labour of refilling the van. Apprehensive lest our distress of feeling should be observed in our countenance, we turned our back upon the wretched spectacle, and gazed into the gloomy field before us, till our heart verily ached again. We had known a time when "Richardson's" in giant letters met our view--when wreaths and stars of variegated lamps, brilliant as the rainbow, depended and glittered from red festoons--when, side by side, the insidious conspirator, the valiant disinherited, and beauteous betrothed, paced the platform in mysterious communion--when funny clowns sang funny songs to a sea of delighted faces--when ladies in Scotch costume danced Highland flings--when countless people who had paid, stood conjecturing and anxiously waiting outside for the conclusion of the tragedy and pantomime then being executed inside, and feeling sensations of awe creep over them as the spangled knights, the frowning desperadoes, and Indian chiefs with bracelets on their arms and rings through their ears and noses, stalked past them in their dignified parade. Oh! torturing memory! Once more in thy dimless mirror do we behold "Pavilion Theatre"--see the equestrian "Clarke's"--hear too their cry of "The riders, the riders"--see again the savage combat between the two fierce bandits, who perform north-east south-west, robbers' cut, and guard, with frantic bravery--again we see Master Clarke and Miss Clarke waltzing round and round in the innocence of childhood--again the din of Bartholomew rings in our ears--again is Smithfield thronged with its roystering thousands--again are we surrounded by booths, shows, dwarfs, giants, pigs link-eaters, fat boys, swings, round-abouts, conjurers, and steam glass-works. We should, past doubt, have swooned away at the vision we had raised, had we not turned opportunely to the little show behind us, which made us conscious of the chilling truth of the reality. Despairing and broken-spirited, the proprietor had forsaken his post, and whilst his consort screamed forth invitations to the inanimate crowd to walk forward, he leaned his back dejectedly against the wheel of his yellow habitation. As he stood, he was accosted by a man in knee corduroys, half-boots, and white stockings, who, removing the short pipe from his mouth and looking hard in the showman's face, exclaimed-- "Vot Bill!--vy I ardly know'd yer! Vot a precious long phiz you have got! Vot has give you the blues?" "Blues!" echoed the showman, for an instant raising his eyes; "Ain't it enough to make a heart of stone bleed to see this here Fair? Ain't it enough to--" but here his eyes again fell upon the ground, and superintended a little hole which he was digging with his iron heel. "Vell, but man," rejoined the corduroys, encouragingly, as he glanced about him, "there arn't a wery great squeege to-night, to be sure, but yer vosn't so thin yisterday, and the day afore, vos yer?" "Wasn't we though," sighed the proprietor, with a significant nod, "in that ere precious pourer yisterday--we wasn't thin, eh?--oh, not at all!"-- "Vell, don't founder, old boy. Come, go up, go up, and then the people'll follow you!" "Not they," returned the dejected man; "They hasn't the sperit, Jim. They sneeks avay to the gin-shops and destroys their morals--gets drunk, and goes home and whacks their innercent wives--here's a precious state o' things for a civilised country!" "Vell, niver mind. See, your good woman's a-calling of yer; go up to her, for down here yer looks as miserable as a fish out o' water. Ve all regrets it, but if yer perfession is ruined, vy, try your hand in some other line, that's all." "Niver! niver, Jim!" cried the indomitable showman; "I wos _born_ in a wan--I wos _edicated_ in a wan--I've _lived_ in a wan, and--I'll _die_ in a wan!" Saying which, he rushed frantically up the steps, vented the first burst of his feelings in a terrific flourish upon the trumpet, and ultimately calmed down at the barrel organ. Very soon after, St Paul's sonorous voice spoke his dismal fiat, and as he tolled out the eleventh hour, seemed to ring the knell of our dear departed Bartholomew Fair. ALPHA. OMNIBUS CHAT. We were led by accident, the other day, into certain odd speculations upon THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Who was it that astonished his hearers by declaring that beefsteak-pudding always put him in mind of Westminster Abbey? It was the same man who responded to the "Why?" by saying, "O! I don't know why, but it _does_!" "Association of Ideas" is arrangeable under two heads: the discoverable, and the undiscoverable. Of the last, first. How often do we every day jump from one point to another, as distinct in themselves as the sublime and the ridiculous, and far more widely asunder? We are talking of A, and Z starts up in the mind. White is the subject of the speculation, and in walks Black. It may be said, that as likes beget likes, so opposites beget opposites; and it may be very true that if you cannot directly call Z to mind when you want him, it is advisable to recollect A, as likelier to remind you of him than Y, or any other alphabetician. Granted; but, on the same principle, when you want to think of water, you should order in some brandy. The connexion may be close, although the elements are opposite. In like manner, we are told, when trying to recal some reprobate's _alias_, to think of a church of the same name; as we might think of a duellist, to suggest the image of a practical Christian. So, if we would be reminded of the truth and simplicity of Shakspeare, we ought to remember how his plays are sometimes acted; we shall see the high point from the low. Again, the image of a poor-box might be useful to help us to the idea of fulness; as that of a medicine-chest might be, to suggest the sense of turtle and venison. But we need not multiply opposites; grant that suggestions arise thus, when ideas stand opposed in straight lines--when the electric wire runs direct between them, wonderfully connecting the remote--yet how are we to account for the association of ideas in cross-roads, where there cannot possibly be the slightest connexion--where the fancy starts off at all sorts of angles, or wriggles through all kinds of crooked lines, without an apparent chance of stumbling upon the image that nevertheless comes uppermost? Cases constantly occur where there is not a particle of affinity. The child-idea is born without a parent-idea; there is not the shadow of a traceable relationship. We are discussing the merits of Cerito, and one of Euclid's problems bursts upon us; we are quietly repeating to ourselves some verses of the Odyssey, and suddenly the mind wanders to the subject of muffins. What connexion is there between shirt-frills and glass bottles? Yet how rapidly may one follow the other, like debtor and creditor, and become as intimately related as needle and thread! On the other hand the Discoverable links of association are often as clear and connected as pearls strung on silver; and sometimes, it must be owned, they are altogether as tangled and confused, though still traceable by a nice curiosity. It needs no ghost to tell us why twenty-one shillings suggest the idea of a guinea--though the one coin be of the more precious metal; nor is it necessary to show why a Manton at this season awakens associations of pheasants and partridges--the consanguinity is obvious. But how comes it that my simple little cat (Dummy by name) called up, the other evening, by a very ordinary movement, the image of Cleopatra? How? Why, the mere sweep of her sable tail reminded me of the black leopard in the Surrey Zoological Gardens: where the gigantic model of Rome suggested a thought of the Cæsars; Antony, of course, started up, and in the "hundred-thousandth part of the _millionth_ division of a second," I was in Egypt old, gazing upon the undying glory of Cleopatra! What so simple! Such chains lengthen themselves incessantly in the mind--the links are drawn each to each, of their "own sweet will," and bind us unawares. Lightning is slow compared with the flight of thought. How quickly does an oyster beget the idea of our first parents! Thus: an oyster--Milton oysters--Milton--Adam and Eve! Let any reader who may happen to be thinking of wrought-iron, trace back his speculation, and laugh to find that it had its origin perhaps in camomiles; as camomiles had in turn been suggested by the "Pilgrim's Progress!" * * * * * ---- But all this is less an address to the patient reader than an apology to an injured Correspondent. We wish to show, beyond mistake, how we misnamed a valued illuminator of our vehicle, who last month related an Incident of Travel. His name is _Copus_; we could not call it to mind, and so we styled him _Quickly_. Observe. Quickly in this case was the son of Mrs. Quickly; Mrs. Quickly was, in our imagination, the mother of Sack; Sack is, to our knowledge, the brother of Copus. The connexion is mysterious--yet mysteriously simple. Copus! How could we forget thee?--thou wert companion of our youth. We knew thee well--thou art a spicy fellow, and a cheerful! What youthful reveller in academic relaxations recollects thee not, with thy wine and toast, thy lemon, cloves, and seductive et ceteras! Here's a chant that particularises thy pleasantries:-- "Bring ale, bring wine, Bring lemon too, With the nutmeg fine-- We'll brew, we'll brew! The toast throw in, and the clove divine, 'Twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do! Here's a draught to the Queen, And the days we have seen, And a health to you, sir, you!" And now shall Copus, John Copus, (late Quickly) speak for himself, on a subject which, by a natural sequence, treads on the heels of the foregoing. I sometimes speculate as to what little boys at school now-a-days talk about, as to what form the chief subjects of their amusement. It is sadly to be feared, that the innocent and ingenuous ignorance of my school-days has been exchanged for a culpable smattering of sophisticated knowledge, foolishly so called. Oh! who could wish when he calls to mind the days of his boyhood--at least, who that has a particle of romance, the smallest dash of sentiment, in his heart, could wish, that the boys of the present day should be sceptical as to the soothing belief then so prevalent, that the luscious preparation of sugar and peppermint which they eat, is really and truly a portion of "Gibraltar Rock;" or that the "brandy balls," with which they beguile their happy hours, and _clart_ their fingers' ends, are indeed remnants of the lot of those very "Nelson's bullets" which spread destruction on "Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar." Some of my readers may perhaps know--I confess my ignorance on this point--what boys now are. Whether a Doudnean tunic and variegated cap of divers kinds of cloth warm the possessor of as much solid understanding, as the honest pepper-and-salt clothes and undoubted beaver hat did in times gone by. I will, however, endeavour to illustrate what boys were in the last generation. And first, you shall agree that they excelled as a body in the inventive faculty. I scarcely need instance Walter Scott--the following story will establish my point without further aid. Let us suppose the scene--a moderate-sized room--with eighteen beds or so in it, and the same number of boys in them, varying in age from eight to twelve, with every variety of nightcap, from the cosey linen one fitting "snod" to the head, and tied well under the chin, to the dignified and manly double cotton with long tuft; these enclosing all the varieties of hair, known as turnips, carrots, candles, &c. "Now Grant," shouts the biggest of the lot, "it's your turn to tell a story to-night--don't be afraid, (he was a new lad,) any thing will do, so fire away, and I'll thrash the first that interrupts him." The youth thus addressed, having evidently prepared his story, begins slowly and argumentatively thus:--"Well, once upon a time there was a mill" (it was considered a solecism to omit a mill or a castle,) "in a great plain--and a family lived there--well--and so there were three men, and they went out one night and walked across the plain--and it grew quite dark;" (here, one of the youngest lads, frightened at the fearful ideas conjured up by the last words, gives a faint sigh;) "and so after a bit they began to feel hungry--and one said Look! there's a light! and they all swore a solemn oath that they would go to where it was, and get something to eat, or else kill one another." (Here evident proofs are given that the greater portion of the audience are deeply interested in the progress of the tale, for various small sighs are heard, indicative either of sympathy with sufferers under the pangs of hunger, or of apprehension lest the three "jurors," taking the Kilkenny cats as precedents, should eventually become all of them homicides.) "Well--and so they went to the mill--and one of them knocked--and then the miller got up, and sharpening a large knife went to the door and asked who was there?--and the boldest of the three told him, that they were three travellers, and wanted food and a lodging. So the miller let them in, and they had a jolly good tuck-out of tea and buttered toast, and then went to bed.----And so my story's ended." "Grant--come here!" mildly observes the biggest of the crew. The youth thus addressed rises cheerfully--advances boldly--and falls precipitately--levelled by a well-aimed bolster. "Now Grant!" continues the non-appreciator of a tale worthy for its simplicity of conception of a Wordsworth--for its pensive dénouement of a Dickens;--"Now Grant, just pick that up--and won't I lick you to-morrow morning, you precious fool--that's all." I cannot lay the flattering unction to my soul, of believing that the modern dormitory could produce so striking a proof of talent. No sir; from fountains such as these have risen the immortal strains of a ---- and a ---- (you can fill in the names). In vain will the survivors of the next generation look for any similar display of talent. But if this fail to convince you of the decided superiority of the boys of auld lang syne in one branch of knowledge, give me your attention whilst I recount an overpowering proof, that in appreciation of real wit and talent for the ludicrous, they were indeed unrivalled. A new lad had come, who from having liberally bestowed various "tucks" on almost every one of his friends in the bed-room was popular on the whole, and received very cordially by us all. At all our stories connected with the various "masters," "monitors," "servants," boys that had left, and boys that remained, (and some of them were by no means amiss,) he seemed rather to sneer, so that he was voted a dull fellow--a spoon--a sap. When, however, emboldened by acquaintance with us, he began to talk of the school he had left, his delight, and even laughter, knew no bounds. "Oh! master was such a jolly fellow"--he said one day to a select circle of friends--"and such a funny fellow too he was you don't know--he! he! he! he used to make us laugh so--he! he! I'll tell you such a funny story of him. There was a lad called Brown, and master called him Jacky, because his name was John--he! he! he! Well, one day at dinner, Jacky had only had once of meat, but he'd two helps of pood;" "Of what?" we all exclaimed. "Oh! we called _rolly_, _pood_, to distinguish it from _stick-jaw_," was the explanation given. "So when master said, 'Well, Jacky, will you have any more pudding?' he! he! he! Jacky said, he! he! 'Please sir,' he! he! ha! and master said--he! he! '_Jacky's fond of pudding!_' he! he! he! wasn't that funny?" * * * * * Having laughed immoderately at the profound and irresistible drollery of Jack Brown's dominie, protesting, that two such schoolmasters would be the death of us, we were all--that is, the whole Omnibus-fraternity in vehicle assembled,--suddenly checked in our hilarity, and sat with solemn visages to listen to THE LACEMAN'S LAMENT. "One struggle more and I am free From pangs that _rend_ my heart in twain."--BYRON. Oh! thou, who wert my all of hope-- Of love--of joy, in early years; Ere aught I knew about the shop, Or view'd life through a _veil_ of tears. Some poet sings, that, "never yet, The course of true love smooth did run;" So mine, I'll take an even bet, Must be the truest 'neath the sun! 'Tis long, long since I ceased to weep O'er all thy broken vows of yore; But, if you want some ribbon cheap, I hope you'll not go past my door! 'Twas thee my youthful fancy drew The fairest pattern of your kind;-- Lace patterns, now, alone I view, And _fancy_ muslins rule my mind. Dearest and fairest! oh, forgive The thought that prompts this simple lay; 'Tis just to tell you where I live-- I see you passing, every day. I may, perchance, have measured short The lines that are not in my line; For yards, not feet, are now my _forte_, And rhymes are ill to match and join. In visions of a future day, I see thy long-lost form appear; And, o'er the counter, whispering, say-- "Pray can you make it cheaper, _dear_?" Then I'll not call thee all unkind, Nor every hope untimely drop; Unless, in after days, I find You take your custom past my shop. J. P. * * * * * This pleasantry not unnaturally called to mind the departed author of a thousand similar essays; of a thousand songs, epigrams, odes, farces, and operas; of a thousand proofs of natural talent and untiring activity of mind. The allusion here made is to Thomas Dibdin, the son of the great sea-songster, the brother of the already by-gone Charles, and consequently, the last of the three! The remains of "Poor Tom" were interred on the 21st of September, in the burial-ground of St. James's Chapel, Pentonville, close by the grave of his old friend, _Grimaldi_. May he sleep in peace nevertheless! The feeling of a friend seems to be expressed in the subjoined tribute:-- TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE THOMAS DIBDIN. Alas! poor Tom! thy days are past, Yet shall thy wit and humour last; For few, of all the bay-crown'd train, Could boast a more productive brain. But what avails, if fleeting praise Alone the poet's labour pays? If, when the mind is worn away, Pale misery waits on dim decay? If talents rare no more can claim Than idle transitory fame? 'Twas thine, poor Tom! in life's decline, In sad reverse and want to pine; Till Pity came, with angel-pow'r, To soothe thee at thy latest hour.[10] (Pity! on earth a heavenly guest, And sweetest in a queenly breast.) But rest thee well! nor let us grieve Thou hadst no hoarded bags to leave; One legacy of thine shall yet Be valued more--thy CABINET. J. A. WILLIAMS. It is the fate of one author to be overlooked by the Great, and of another to be overlooked by the Little. But we very much question, whether any author, be he poet or pamphleteer, occupying what is technically called a two-pair front, was ever subjected, whether sitting down to dinner or getting into bed, to the inconvenience of being Overlooked by the Great, after the fashion portrayed in the margin hereof. Now this we really take to be THE HEIGHT OF IMPUDENCE! Impudence has many degrees. When a stranger in a coffee-room politely requests to be allowed just to glance for one instant only at the newspaper you are reading, merely to look at an advertisement, and then, ordering candles into the next box, coolly sits down to read through the parliamentary debate--when a friend borrows your horse, to lend to a friend of his whom he would not trust with his own--a certain degree of impudence has unquestionably been attained. There is impudence in looking through a keyhole, in peeping over the parlour-blinds, in spying into the first-floor from the window "over the way;" but surely the highest stage of impudence is reserved for the man who stops as he strolls along at night, to look into your bed-room window, on the second floor--tapping at it probably with a request to be permitted to light his cigar at your candle, as the gas-light has gone out. [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 10: A few months before Mr. Dibdin's decease, and at the intercession of some friends, he received 100 _l._ out of the Queen's Bounty Fund. But he has left a widow and young family, for whom no provision whatever has been made.] AN APPARENT CASE OF DETERMINED SUICIDE. [Illustration] As we sauntered along the sea-beach the other day, in the neighbourhood of Margate, we observed a female standing out at a considerable distance from the cliffs, and at a point where she was likely to be cut off from the shore. As the tide at the time was "making in fast," prompted by a humane feeling (and not by an impertinent curiosity, in the hopes of seeing a pretty face), we immediately hastened towards her; upon a nearer approach the form was familiar to us--surely we had seen that figure before--it must be--it is--Mrs. Toddles! What can she be about? She stands motionless upon an elevated patch of sand--the white foam comes boiling and gurgling and hissing around her. She heeds it not--she stirs not; it begins to rain a little--she deliberately puts up her umbrella! What can she mean? Horrible thought! does she meditate self-destruction? Has she resolved to stand there until the mighty waters encompass her about--engulfing herself--her little black stockings--her bonnet--her shawl and all! in the deep, vast, salt, briny, hungry ocean. But what are we about? Let us hasten to prevent such an awful catastrophe! Springing forward therefore quickly, we exclaimed, "For heaven's sake, madam, what are you about? Are you determined to destroy yourself, or are you aware of your danger?" "Danger, sir?" cried Mrs. T. with a scream, "what danger, sir? I am only watching the waves." "Danger, madam! why in five minutes the waves will cut you off from all chance of escape," we exclaimed, and expressed a hope that she could swim. "Swim!" screamed Mrs. T.--"Swim! oh dear, oh dear!"--and away skuttled Mrs. T. along the sands, her little bit black legs going at a most surprising rate. However, leaving Mrs. T.'s legs to themselves, we took to our heels, and encouraged her to increased exertion, when suddenly we heard the little lady exclaim, "Oh, my basket,"--and upon looking round, we saw those little bit black legs hurrying back to the place from whence she started. We hallooed, we bawled--time and space were both narrowing with fearful rapidity--"Now! madam--haste, haste!--quick--your hand!--there, now!--ah!"--Ahah! too late! too late!--bang comes the wave--such a squash--poor Mrs. T. went off dripping wet; but we dare say she would find a little drop of comfort, in the shape of _smuggled_ Hollands at her lodgings. [Illustration] [Illustration] We wonder _how_ Mrs. T. got to Margate, and suppose it was in search of her friend, Colonel Walker--who, we presume, _must_ be out of town--or we should have heard from him. THE BITER BIT. "Stop! stop!" cried a gentleman to an Omnibus cad[11], but the cad would neither hear nor stop. "Stupid fellow!" said the gentleman,--"he'll find it out, to his cost, bye-and-bye; for I have given him a counterfeit five-shilling piece!" But, on looking at the change, he exclaimed--"Well, I _never_! hang me if the rascal hasn't given me four shillings and sixpence bad money! But, never mind; I've had my ride for nothing!" FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 11: Not attached to our establishment.] [Illustration: A SKAITING PARTY A Sliding Siute A Skaiting Academy Designed, Etched & Published by George Cruikshank No.^r 1 1841] THE ARTIFICIAL FLOOR FOR SKATING. If our grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, and great-grandmothers, and great-great-grandmothers, (who, depend upon it, were all very little people,) could only look down and see what is going on among us here below, how they would, as an Irish friend remarks, turn up their eyes! Those who were wont, while vegetaters in this world, to creep to bed with the lamb, for want of a light to sit up by, (before man "found out long-sixes,") must, upon peeping down now, be dazzled by the blaze of gas; yet what is gas compared to the Bude-light, already superseding it? Those who made their wills when they undertook a three-weeks journey from York to London, must be abundantly startled by our railroads; yet what is railway-travelling now to the velocity with which we are hereafter to move--when, seated on a cannon-ball, we shall be shot into a distant city in less time than it would take us to stop at home. But of all the wonders that must make them open their unsubstantial eyes, and rub their aerial spectacles, a Skating Assembly in a London drawing-room must assuredly take the lead. Balloons pilotable and walks under the Thames, iron ships and canals over carriage-ways,--these are mere common-places. Earth, air, fire, and water, are old-fashioned things. _Artificial Ice_ is the new element that shall astonish the other four. In America they are boasting the construction of a railroad to convey ice to Charlestown, for the supply of the West Indies! Very well; but that is _real_ ice. England has done something more; she has established her independence of winter. She can do without frost altogether, and yet go on skating all the year round. She has discovered more than Parry did at the Pole; she has found out--Artificial Ice! To Mr. Bradwell, whose ingenuity as a machinist has so long been signalized in Covent Garden theatre, the public will be indebted for the realization of this wonder. It is proposed that in what were once the nursery-grounds in the New Road the infant art shall be nursed and reared, and the New Road to Enjoyment be thrown open. Magnificent rooms, on a scale of extraordinary magnitude, will be laid with sheets of patent ice, upon which the common skate can be used with the same facility as upon the frozen Serpentine. There will be rooms for learners and private parties. The artificial ice has been put to the test of extreme heat, and is unaffected by it. It may be used in private houses, and be carpeted when skating is over. Such is the accredited statement; and our inference naturally is, that skating will soon become popular all over the world. The speculators who long ago sent out skates to India will now make their fortunes. With ourselves it will soon be _the_ national pastime. People will get up in the dog-days, early, and go out for a morning's skating. They will enjoy the sport with advantages hitherto undreamed of; there will be no keen winter-wind to cut them in two--no "mobocracy" to mix with--no rheumatisms to catch--no duckings to dread. The word "dangerous" will be as a term in the unknown tongue. They will not anticipate a drawback in the use of the drags, and though they mix in every society, the "Humane" will be untroubled; there will be neither falling in nor falling out. MR. AND MRS. SLIPPERS REQUEST THE HONOUR OF MR., MRS., AND MISS SLIDER'S COMPANY TO AN EVENING PARTY, ON THE 1ST OF JULY, 184--. _Skates at 10._ Skating-floors will, of course, be laid down in the houses of all the affluent, and invites will be issued from Portland-place and Park-lane, after the fashion of the accompanying card. It will be the privilege of a gentleman to solicit the hand of a lady for the next figure-of-eight, to beseech her to take part with him in the date of the year, or to join him in a true-lover's knot. Servants will skate in and out with real ice. The text of Milton will be altered in the next edition, and his couplet will be read-- "Come and trip it, long and late, On the light fantastic skate." But the skating-floor will be in equal request for family use as for company. On a wet morning, when it is impossible to go out, the gentleman will say--"Here's a soaker! no ride, no walk; James, bring me my skates." Or perhaps the lady will cry--"What a horrid dry day! nothing but dust! Why don't they put an awning all over Hyde Park! Eustace, my skates!" What an immense saving will there be in families in the article of firing, when people are thus irresistibly moved to "stir their stumps," instead of the fire. But will the advantages end here? Certainly not. There can be no question but that the experiment will be tried in the new Houses of Parliament, where, should a skating-floor be laid down, notices of motion will be far less abundant than motions without notice. Changing sides will be a matter of constant practice; to cut figures, not to cultivate them, will be the order of the day; the noble lord will "feel great reluctance in reducing himself to the level of the honourable gentleman," and the honourable gentleman "will very unwillingly adopt the position of the noble lord." Supporting _pe_titions will be of less consequence than supporting _par_titions; and the strong party measure that will be necessary, will be a strong party wall. Westminster-hall will of course be furnished with a floor for the use of the lawyers, and the juries in waiting; the counsel will show where an action may lie, the plaintiff will naturally go against the defendant, and the defendant will as naturally move for a new trial. The town-halls throughout the kingdom will be similarly supplied. But may not patent-ice pavements be laid down in our popular thoroughfares? We have asphalte promenades and wooden highways; but what are such inventions as these to the convenience of ice-pavements, and the luxury of skating down Cheapside to be early on 'Change! What a ninth of November will that be which shows us the two Sheriffs skating away to Guildhall after the new Lord Mayor, followed by the Court of Aldermen and the Companies. A procession on skates! the Cabinet Ministers, the Judges,--the sword-bearer, and the men in armour--all skating like Dutchmen! [If herein we exaggerate, we have not exaggerated the ingenuity of Mr. Bradwell, to whom we wish a signal success.] DUNS DEMONSTRATED. BY EDWARD HOWARD, AUTHOR OF "RATTLIN THE REEFER." The dark ages of barbarism are generally supposed to have been more prolific of monsters; but modern times,--the times of civilization and refinement--have far excelled them in this respect. What are your giants, your anthropophagi, and "men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders," as monsters, compared with that maximum of monstrosity, _a dun_? He is an iniquity, who may claim Impudence and Usury for his father and mother. He is a devouring Sin, a rampant atrocity, a thing unendurable. And then the double duplicity of the monster! He makes his first approaches towards his victim smiling--he actually smiles!--he offers to lend you money, the angel! or bestow upon you his goods; and then he is nothing but the beneficent assister of the poor: for every man who condescends to be in debt must be poor--if in want, pitiably poor in fact; if not in want, poor in spirit beyond the approach of contempt. But when his meshes have once entangled his prey, this seraph stands forth in the sublimity of the horrible--THE DUN! Come, as we are in a free nation, let us talk about the chains of slavery, tyranny's oppression, the _morgue_ of aristocracy, and the _fierté_ of those in authority; shall we not rise in arms against them "'Sblood! shall we not be rebels?" Stop. Let us first conquer a tyrant far stronger than any of these--a despot more despotic than any autocrat who ever existed. This persecutor violates all the sanctities of private life; he is with us at our meals, he penetrates the closet, even the bedchamber affords us no asylum. There is no sanctuary from the dun. Death? That may be, yet we know not. We should hesitate the accepting a grave _gratis_, even were it a mausoleum, near the "remains" of a dun. Nobody can answer for the force of habit. The ancients had very correct notions on this subject. There was a dun at the very entrance to their "shades below;" how could any place of torment be complete without one? There was Charon, with his skinny hand outstretched for a penny. It was not much, certainly; but it is a great deal more than dutiful sons, affectionate nephews, and disconsolate heirs, can now afford to bestow upon the illustrious departed. It is a good thing for the modern dead that all this about Styx and the ferry-boat is held to be fiction. Detestable as is the dun, there is something heroic about him. It has been matter of dispute among learned commentators whether the assertion respecting this right valourous Thomas Thumb should be construed literally or paraphrastically, "He made the giants first, and then he killed them." There can be no doubt about the deeds of the dun. He actually does "make his giants first, and then he kills them." Without him there would be no debtors to destroy. If debt be a crime, the creditor is more than _particeps criminis_. He is the originator of, and tempter to, the deed. Justice should really punish the dun for drawing his victim into debt. We deny not that lending money is glorious among the virtues: nobody can appreciate that more than ourselves. But to punish a poor devil for affording a fellow-creature an opportunity for exercising the most exalted virtue, ranks next in heinousness to the crime of that man who may degrade himself into a _dun_. But what is a dun? the ignorant affluent may exclaim. It is this that the abomination is: the quintessence of vexation; a single plague, a plaguey deal worse than the whole ten that plagued Egypt. He is a substantial ghost, perpetually haunting a man, and sucking away his substance more eagerly than ever James the First imagined that a hobgoblin sucked a witch. He is far more ravenous than "the horseleech, who always cries 'Give, give!'" In his voice he imitates the cuckoo, having but one note, provided that he gets hold of yours--"Pay, pay! money, money!" He is a troublesome fiend, not to be laid with Protestant prayers, or Papistical holy water, and yet can be exorcised merely by a check. The dun hath an extraordinary sympathy with a knocker. For him, a knocker cannot be placed too high or too low, nor will his ready hand find it too heavy or too light. It is the instrument on which he most loveth to play. He can therewith simulate every man's tune; at the unobtrusive "one modest tap" of the poor cousin, the quaker-like simplicity of the postman's _appel_, the hearty rally of the intimate friend, and the prolonged thunder of the crimson-thighed lacquey, he is equally expert. The hypocrite can achieve every knock that has been or can be knocked in this knocking world. And yet, he can hardly deceive the poor tremulous debtor. Hence, since the times have become bad, and John Doe and Richard Roe have stalked through our streets triumphant, gentlemen have left off wearing certain appendages to the backs of their heads, as being too typical and too much reminiscent of "iteration" of the pertinacious foe. [Illustration] What gentleman would like to have bobbing at his back an excrescence, which, if he walked slowly, would remind him of his tailor's--if fast, of his bootmaker's summons? It would be planting an imp of importunity on his shoulders, which, like Sinbad's old man, he might shake, but could not shake off. Many are the doubts of the dun's pedigree. Some hold that he descends from one of Nimrod's illegitimates, for he is a mighty hunter by profession, as well as a tyrant by nature. A blood-hound he is, of a notable quick scent to discover his game, with a deep mouth to pursue it. His presumption is boundless; for he pretends to ape creation by attempting to squeeze something out of nothing, and raise cash from a vacuum. Etymologists have laid it down that he is called a dun, by antiphrasis, because he never will have done until he has undone you; and yet nothing is more natural and pleasant than the doing of a dun, nothing worse than his doings. Whether he repair to church or the meeting-house, he cannot be accounted a true Christian, as he never either gives or forgives, but merely lends in order to show that he has no forgiveness. He is the most persevering of all bores and the most penetrable; nothing can divert him from his persecutions; and 'tis very lucky for him that doors cannot maintain actions of assault and battery. The new penny postage is a fortunate measure for the afflicted victim of the dun. If he live so far off that he cannot be dunned three times a day, he will be punished to the amount only of what the good Samaritan gave to the wounded wayfarer; but this punishment will be daily, punctual as the day itself. He is, this dun, the acutest mental torturer that exists, and the greatest tempter to all manner of wickedness. Near, he almost annihilates you; remote, he torments you, racking your very soul. He is to the poor creditor what the guilty conscience is to the murderer; he can neither eat, drink, sleep, or walk in quiet for him. Indeed, the tenter-hooks upon which he puts a man, are enough to warp the best nature in the world. With truth he will not be satisfied, and you are forced to rid yourself of him by a lie. At length his importunity provokes you to swear at him, and then he hardens you into a determination never to pay him at all. He thus enacts the gentleman-usher to the black gentleman, leading you on from lying to swearing, from swearing to dishonesty, till at last you pave your way to a "certain place,"--more certainly than ever you will pave it with your good intentions. It would not be difficult to prove that your thorough-paced dun was the father of the seven deadly sins. Let us single out a specimen from a flock of dun-coloured duns: for the true dun affecteth not brilliancy of colours. He has marked his quarry. He pursues it cautiously, stealthily. He must be upon it, before he takes the alarm. Whilst he approaches, he puckers up his face into all the foldings of hypocrisy. He has gilded his countenance with a villanous smile. He is on tiptoe. He touches his unsuspecting victim on the shoulder--that victim was in the act of a triumphant pass with an admiring companion. He turns round!--where is the smile of exultation? He looks more affrighted than the flying hare, more ghastly than a tombstone by moonlight. And yet he suffers his clammy hand to be grasped in the horny palm of the dun--to be shaken: the contact is loathsome--he must bear it, for he owes the man money. "My little account----" Then comes the shuffling, the lying, the fawning--if the wretch be, as is generally the case, mean-spirited. One dun would go far to tame even Hercules--but two, with the assistance of a rascally sheriff's-officer, would subdue a whole army of heroes and demi-gods. It is a good thing for the wild beasts that they know not the use of money. How easy would have been Van Amburgh's task, could he but have lent his most violent lions some loose cash, and have discounted the note of paw of his most intractable tigers, they being amenable to mesne process! But that happy consummation for the duns is still far distant. It will be long before they induce carrion-crows to give an I O U, instead of a C A W; or that they will persuade eagles to indorse bills, excepting in the backs of their prey; so the dunning fraternity must be content with torturing their fellow-sharers in humanity, until men grow so wise as to discover that debt is nothing more than a moral obligation, and that it is both wickedness and folly to punish it as a crime. THE SECOND SLEEPER AWAKENED[12]. Translated by Ali. "'Tis a long 'Lane' that has no _turning_." OLD PROV. [Illustration] Know, O Prince of the Faithful! that my name is Jöhn Thómkeens, and my father was Sháh Bandar of the merchants of Löhndöhn, and be resided in the street which is called Oksphut; and he had great riches, and possessed many stuffs, and jewels, and minerals, and female slaves, and black male slaves, and memlooks; and a great desire came upon me to travel, and divert myself with viewing the cities of the world; then said I to my father, "By Allah! O my father, I conjure thee that thou permittest me to travel from thee awhile, that I may divert myself with viewing the cities of the world!" But my father was not willing to hinder me from doing this, although it grieved him to part with me, so when I conjured him to let me go, he hung his head awhile towards the earth, for his bosom was contracted, and after a little space he raised his head, and said to me, "O, my son! great grief has afflicted me, by reason of this thy request; but as thou art eager to travel, may no harm befall thee; be careful of thy substance, and associate not with those with whom there is no avail to associate;" and he ceased not to advise me of that which it was right for me to do, until the hour of prayer; and after that he ordered his memlooks, and they prepared for me a mule, and put on its saddle and equipments. So my father advanced to embrace me, for the purpose of bidding me farewell, and he embraced me and wept until he fainted, and when he recovered he recited these verses:-- "The man from the bad coin parteth without sorrow[13]; But the bosom of the father is contracted with the loss of his child. The lamb was eager to leave the fold, despising the words of his mother; But when the wolf appeared, he longed for the safety of the fold." Then I bade him farewell, and recited these verses:-- "Youthful strength despises not labour; And strange things meet the eye of him that travels[14]." I then pursued my journey, not knowing whither I was going, and I proceeded until I arrived upon the banks of a great river; and as I looked, lo! a vast bridge was before me, and I considered my case, and ascended upon the bridge, and a man met me, and said unto me, "By Allah! O, my son, thou canst not pass here, until thou hast paid unto me a penny!" So I gave him a penny, and proceeded; and the name of that river was Thámez, and the name of that bridge Vockshál. And I proceeded a little space, and I looked, and lo! a great palace appeared before me, the doors of which were of the iron of China, and the door-posts of brass, and the walls thereof were inlaid with jewels and all kinds of precious stones, such as I had never before beheld. The gates of the palace were open, so I descended from my mule and entered, and lo! I found therein a spacious hall the like of which my eyes had never before beheld; and within this great hall were many ghools, and lo! they were busied about some great work; and I approached and beheld, and lo! they were stamping with the signet of Sulezmán, the son of Dáood (on both of whom be peace); and they were stamping the signets with astounding quickness; and when I beheld them, I said within myself, "God is great! What he willeth, that cometh to pass; and what he willeth not, doth not happen." After that I proceeded; and as I was walking from the palace, my foot struck upon some hard substance, and I looked down, and lo! it was a bottle of brass, filled with something, and having its mouth closed with a stopper of lead, bearing the impression of the seal of Sulezmán, the son of Dáood (on both of whom be peace); then said I to myself, "By Allah, the great, the wonderful! I must open this and see what is in it." So I took out a knife, and picked at the lead until I had extracted it from the bottle of brass; and when I had so done, lo! a great quantity of smoke came forth, and I heard a sound as if of a strong rushing wind; and while I was looking, behold the smoke collected together, and shook, and it became an Efreet, horrible in form. His head was like a dome, and from it there rose a huge horn, like a great column; his hair was as kohl; his eyes flashed forth fire, and from his mouth issued flames; and when I beheld him the muscles of my sides quivered, my teeth were locked together, my spittle dried up, and I saw not my way. Then the Efreet, when he saw me, cried out and said to me, "Fear not, O thou of the sons of Adam! for as thou hast released me from confinement, there shall no harm befall thee; and lo! I will now convey thee where thou mayest have all thy wants, and fulfil all thy desires; but keep thou in thine hand the impression of the signet of Sulezmán, the son of Dáood (on both of whom be peace), for thou wilt have need of it in thy way." Then said I unto him, "Whither is it that thou wilt lead me, O! Márid?" And he said, "I will lead thee to a place such as thou hast never before beheld, and show unto thee sights such as thou hast never before looked on. But fear not; for I swear to thee, by Allah, the good, the powerful! that no harm shall befall thee." Then the Efreet took me up in his arms--I suffering him all this time, by reason of the extremity of my fear, which deprived me of all power over my limbs--and seated me on his shoulders, and flew away with me through the air. And he ceased not to fly until we came to a huge mountain, whose top reached unto the Seventh Heaven; and in the side of this mountain there was a great cavern, and I said unto the Efreet, "O, Efreet! enter not with me into this cavern; for verily I am in great fear, and my heart is contracted within my bosom." But the Márid answered, "Sit thou firm, O, man! and keep thou the impression of the signet in thine hand; and fear not." So I held firm the impression of the signet that was in my hand, and clung to the Efreet, and we entered together into the cavern. And I heard from within the cavern a great noise as if of the panting of many horses, and of ten thousand chariot-wheels, and a smell such as I had never before smelt the like of; my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and the muscles of my sides quivered, by reason of my fear, and I could not move by reason of my dread; and presently a great scream arose, shrill and dreadful, and lo! many ghools and márids surrounded us, making hideous faces, and grinning horribly. And I clung to the Efreet who was carrying me, and he said to me, "Fear not; for we shall soon have passed through this cavern, and the ghools and the márids cannot approach thee; but thou must first behold and be presented to the chief of the Ján, who will inform you of all you have to do for the attainment of your wishes." Then said I, "I hear and obey;" and after that we proceeded. And again I heard that great scream, and the ghools, and the márids, and the jënnezeh, came around us; and the noise of the panting and the snorting of horses increased, and the sounds of the chariots became louder, and the whole air was filled with them; and I quaked with fear, and put my fingers into my ears, for I could not bear this great noise. And I looked, and lo! a great ján stood before us, whose head reached the utmost roof of the cavern, and whose arms were like winnowing forks, and his legs like masts; and when we stopped before him, the Efreet said to me, "Do obeisance, O thou of the sons of Adam!" And I kissed the ground before him, and humbled myself, and kissed his feet; after which I waited, and presently he opened his mouth, and cried unto me, saying,----"Station!" And I found that, whilst sitting in the railway carriage, reading Lane's "Arabian Nights," I had converted myself into-- ONE OF THE "_Sleepers_" ON THE RAILWAY. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 12: For the First, vide Lane's _Arabian Nights_,--"Abul Hassan, or the Sleeper Awakened."] [Footnote 13: Little sorrow at parting, as the man said to the bad shilling.] [Footnote 14: Travellers see strange things.] JUST GOING OUT. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. "Going out" is sometimes a matter of exceeding difficulty; the phrase should rather be "getting out." Morning is the time for the trial to which we allude. You have an appointment of very considerable importance, and it _must_ be kept; or you have made up your mind, moved by the seductive serenity of the day, to take an easy stroll, and clear off an arrear of pleasant calls--you _must_ go. The sunny look-out is exhilarating after a week's wind and rain, which has held you prisoner in your chambers, without so much as wafting or washing a single visitor to your door. You are tired of the house, and long for the fresh calm air, like a schoolboy for a whole holiday, or a usurer for cent, per cent. Every thing is looking quite gay, like a Christmas fire to one who has just come out of a Christmas fog. The people go by with smiling faces, and in smart attire; you consequently take a little more pains than usual with your dress,--rejecting this waistcoat as too quakerish, and selecting your liveliest pair of gloves to match--when, just as your personal equipments are all but complete, not quite,--"rat-tat-tat--tat-tat--tat!" there is a knock at the door. Well, a knock at the door is no very astounding occurrence; but in this knock there is something startling, something ominous, something unwelcome. Nobody has knocked (nobody in the shape of a visitor) for some days, and it has an unusual sound. Had it suddenly broke in upon you while you were shaving, its effect might have been felt acutely; but you were just fixing the last shirt-stud, and a slight crumple is the sole consequence. You ring the bell hastily, rather anxious. "Tim," you cry softly, admonishing the sleepy little sinecurist that attends to the door; "Tim, there's a knock. Now, pray be cautious; I'm going out immediately; and can't see any stranger; you know whom I'm always at home to--don't let anybody in that you don't know well--mind!" You listen, with your hands uncomfortably stretched towards the back of your neck, in the suspended action of fastening your stock; and distinctly catch Tim's responsive "_Yes_, sir!" So, then, you _are_ at home to somebody; and Tim immediately announces Mr. Bluff, your oldest and best friend, who is ever welcome, and to whom you are at home at all hours;--Yes,--only--only you are just now going out! But, never mind. Will he wait five minutes? You won't be longer; and Tim hurries off to him with the _Times_. Two minutes more bring you almost to the completion of your toilet, and one arm has already half insinuated itself into the--ay, in the hurry it happens, of course, to be the wrong sleeve of the waistcoat, when alarm the second sounds; there's another knock. "Tim, mind! pray mind! I'm going out. I can't see a soul--unless it's somebody that I _must_ be at home to. You'll see who it is." Tim returns with a card,--"Mr. Joseph Primly." "Primly, Primly! oh!--a--yes--that man, yes,--you didn't say I was at home?" Tim had _not_ said you were at home, he had said that he didn't know whether you would be at home to him or not, and that he would go and see! "Stupid boy! Well, but this Primly--what can _he_ want? I never spoke to him but once, I think--must see him, I suppose, as he's a stranger. Give him the _Chronicle_, and say, I'm coming down in one minute--just going out." But before you _can_ "come down," before you can quite coax on the last article of attire, the knocker is again raised, and rap the third resounds. Confusion thrice confounded! "Now, Tim, who _is_ that? I can't be at home to anybody--you'll know whether I _can_ be denied--I'm going out, Tim. Where are my gloves?--Pray mind!" And, with an anxious face you await the third announcement. "Mr. Puggins Cribb." This _is_ provoking. You can't be out to _him_. He is your quarrelsome friend, to whom you have just been reconciled; the irascible brother of your soul, who suspects all your motives, makes no allowances for you, and charges you with the perpetual ill-usage which he himself inflicts. Should you be denied to _him_, he will be sure to suspect you are at home; and should he find you really are, he will make the grand tour of the metropolis in three days, visiting everybody who knows you, and abusing you everywhere. "Yes, Tim, very right--I must be at home to him. But gracious goodness, what's the time? I'm just going out!" Misfortunes never come single, and visitors seldom come in twos and threes. Before you are fairly at the bottom of the stairs, a fourth arrival is in all probability announced. What can you do? There was an excellent plan, first adopted by Sheridan, of getting rid of untimely visitors; but then his visitors were creditors. They came early, at seven in the morning, to prevent the possibility of being tricked with the usual answer, "Not at home," and of course they would not go away. One was shut up in one room, and another in another. By twelve o'clock in the day there was a vast accumulation; and at that hour, the master of the house would say, "James, are all the doors shut?" "All shut, sir." "Very well, then open the _street_-door softly;" and Sheridan walked quietly out between the double line of closed doors. But this plan, though a thought of it darts across your mind, you cannot put in operation against friends. You therefore face them, grasping this one vigorously by the hand; then begging to be excused for a single moment, while, with a ceremonious bow, you just touch the fingertips of another to whom you have scarcely the honour to be known,--or nod familiarly to a third in the farther corner, who, by the way, is testifying to the intimacy of his friendship, by turning over your favourite set of prints with the brisk manner of an accountant tumbling over a heap of receipts and bills of parcels. For each you have the same welcome, modified only by the tone and action that accompany it! "You are so happy that they arrived in time, for you were _just going out_, having a very important engagement;" and, curious to remark, each has the same reply to your hospitable intimation; but it is delightfully varied in voice and manner,--"_I_ shall not detain you--don't let _me_ keep you a moment." But each does;--one because he's an acquaintance only, and exacts formality; and another because he's a devoted friend, and thinks it necessary to deprecate formality fifty times over, with--"Nonsense, never mind _me_--come, no ceremony--I'm going." In fact, those detain you longest with whom you can use most freedom; and though you may bow out a formal visitor in twenty minutes, it takes you half an hour to push out a friendly one. There are so many reasons why you must be at home to people; to a first, because he's a stranger, to a second because he's a relation; to one, because he was married the other day, and you must wish him joy; to another, because his play failed last night, and you must condole with him; to this, because he doesn't come for money; to that, because he does--which is the oddest of all. After a succession of pauses, hints and gentle embarrassments, three out of the four yield one by one to the pressure of appearances, and as you are evidently "going out," allow you to get out by taking their departure. Only one _will_ linger to say a few words that amount to nonsense, on business that amounts to nothing, occupying professedly a minute, but in fact fifteen; when, just as he is taking his fifth start, and going in reality, crash comes the knocker once more; and that man of all your acquaintances, who never stops to ask whether you are at home or not, but stalks forward, in "at the portal," as the ghost of Hamlet senior stalks out of it, now dashes rather than drops in, delighted to catch you before you make your exit, and modestly claiming just half an hour of your idle morning--not an instant more. "My dear fellow, I'm going out--a particular engagement--been kept in all the morning;--will Friday do? Or shall I see you at the club?" No--nothing will do but listening; and your pertinacious and not-to-be-denied detainer has just settled himself in the easiest chair, and commenced his story with, "Now, come sit down, and I'll tell you all about it."--when the knocker once more summons the half-tired Tim, who forthwith enters with a proclamation in an under-tone, "Mr. Drone, sir, comes by appointment." Luckily this occasions no difficulty. Mr. Drone was appointed to come at eleven, and it is now half-past two; he is therefore easily dismissed; besides, appointments, in these cases, are never troublesome; you can always be very sorry at a minute's notice, be particularly engaged very unexpectedly, and appoint another hour and another day with perfect convenience.--No, it is the dropper-in who blocks up your way--it is the idler who interrupts you in your expedition;--the man of business who comes by appointment may generally be despatched without ceremony or delay! You return again to your guest with a disconsolate air, though with a desperate determination to look attentive; but _sit_ you will not; for while you keep poking the fire almost out, you seem to be preparing for your exit; and while you saunter listlessly about the room, you seem to be going; till at last you are brought to a stand-still, and compelled to submit to another bit of delay, by your visitor (who dined out, and staid late somewhere the night before) asking for a glass of sherry, and some soda-water! You hurry to the bell with the happiest grace in the world; you are ashamed of not offering something of the sort before; you beg pardon--really; and taking a seat with a smiling countenance and a heavy heart, bid a mournful adieu to every thought about your hat for the next quarter of an hour at least. At last he does go, and you feel that although the cream of the morning is skimmed off, it may still be worth while to take quietly what remains; you may visit the scene of your broken engagement, though too late; you may enjoy a diminished stroll, although the flower of the day is cropped; and in this spirit, cane in hand, and hat actually on head, you advance to the street-door delivered from every visitor. It is opened--you stand in the very door-way;--and then--then, in that moment of liberty, when you seemed free as air--you behold close to the step, and right in your path, another unconscionable acquaintance who never takes a denial, but always seizes a button instead! To retreat is impossible, to pass him unseen is equally so. Your hope of going out dies of old age and ill-usage within you--you can't _get_ out. Your start of vexation and dismay is involuntary, and not to be concealed; but what cares he for your disappointment, so that he catches you! "Well, now I _am_ lucky," he exclaims, "one moment more, and, presto! I had missed you for the morning! Come, 'going out,' is not 'gone,' anyhow--so I must just trouble you to turn back--I shan't keep you long!" Of course, you explain, and protest, and are very civil and very sorry; but all this is idle. A visitor of the class to which the new-comer belongs knows very well the advantage he has over you. He smiles triumphantly, in a superb consciousness of your helpless and destitute condition. He is aware that you _can't_ shut the door in his face; that if he persists in going in, under the pretence of a moment's interview, you _must_ go in with him; that you are bound to be glad to see him, or stand exposed to the imputation of rudeness and inhospitality; that he may let you off if he likes, but that you cannot decently bolt without his consent; in short, that you are at his mercy--and this conviction teaches him to have no mercy upon you. The result! who can ask it? You turn back, take off your hat, enter the nearest room, and without the slightest movement of hospitality beyond that--without the slightest hint to the remorseless being who has followed you in that there is such a thing as a chair in the room, you rest the fingers of one hand on the table, and with your hat held resolutely in the other, await your tyrant's pleasure. _He!_--powers of impudence in the garb of intimacy, where will ye find a limit? He, the most domesticated of animals, at once finds himself in his own house. He, when his foremost foot has once gained admittance into your sanctum, feels perfectly and entirely at home. He flings himself into a chair, and after a little parley about the weather (he acknowledges that it has been the loveliest morning of the season), and the glorious effects of exercise (he confesses that nothing on earth prevents him from taking his diurnal round in the bracing period of the day), launches boldly into a dissertation on some subject of immediate interest to himself--connected perhaps with municipal institutions, and the risk he incurs if he should decline to serve the office of sheriff; this suggests to him a recollection of the sheriff, his grandfather, whose history he relates at some length, followed by a narrative of his father's remarkable exploits in the whale-trade, and of his own life down to the period of his second marriage. During all this time you have stood, too tired to interrupt--too polite at least to interrupt to any purpose--until at last, reminded by the shade creeping over the apartment that the beauty of the day is vanishing, that your meditated excursion is all but hopeless, and that you have been for the space of a brilliant summer's morning a prisoner in your own house, you savagely endeavour to bring him to the point. What _does_ he want with you? Nothing; nothing of course, except a little rest after the pleasant saunter he has had--and a little refreshment also;--for when he looks at his watch (as you fondly suppose with the intention of going) he discovers that it happens to be his hour for "a snack." In short, this inveterate and uncompromising customer forcibly _has the tray up_; you haven't strength or courage to misunderstand his wishes, feeling rather faint yourself, sick of hope deferred, and inclining to potted beef. You place your hat and stick, both of which you have all this time held, upon the table; you draw off one glove; you fall-to with a famished fiend who has walked twice round the Park in the bracing air; and another hour is gone. So at length is he! And now, even now the promised stroll may be seized--the coast is clear--you feel "like a giant refreshed," and after all, you cannot help owning, that it's a horribly vulgar thing to be seen strolling about before four o'clock in the day. You remember what the delicate philosopher said about the world not being properly aired before three; and bless your stars that what you have lost in health you have gained in reputation. On go your gloves once more, and--rap goes the knocker! It seems miraculous. All society is but one spiteful conspiracy against you. You forget that the same fine morning which quickened life in you kindled the fire of motion in others. No matter; the hour has at length arrived for "not at home to any human being. No, Tim, not to a living soul!" Unluckily, it is the fate of this most inflexible decree to be countermanded; there is one exception to the rule of not at home to anybody. "If the surveyor calls about the repairs"--ay, and it _is_ the surveyor. Well, the roof, and the cracked wall, must at once be looked to; however, that will not occupy ten minutes, and to the needful business you heroically devote yourself. Half-an-hour flies, and then you are finally released; but, unhappily, just at that moment the man brings home your two new coats; you must glance at one, for you may wear it at dinner. And then crawls up to the door that dilatory fellow whose tidings about the books you have been waiting for--yes, at least for a fortnight; and while discussing with him a particular achievement in binding on which you have set your heart, a letter arrives--a letter marked "important and immediate," though of no earthly consequence, and anything but pressing; still it must be answered, and accordingly the hat is once more taken off, the gloves are petulantly flung down, the cane is tossed anywhere, and-- Rat-tat-tat, &c. resound once more through the rooms; and following quick as though he were the visible echo of a single rap, Cool Sam comes in. He had found Tim at the open door chatting with the messenger in waiting. Cool Sam! Now own frankly that there is small chance of your escape on this side the dinner-hour--nay, there is none at all. An engagement you may have, a determination you may have formed; but do you for a single instant seriously expect to fulfil the one, or hold to the other? Then you are a fool. We prophesy at once, that _you won't get out to-day_. A man may be always going and going, and yet never be gone. You are Sam's till dinner-time, you are Sam's then, and you are Sam's afterwards. Till bed-time (and he himself fixes that hour) you are his. Mark our words if you are not. True, you tell him you have to write a letter. "Write away, boy," he responds, "I can wait." You warn him that the moment this feat is accomplished, you must sally forth on urgent and especial business. "All right," he rejoins, "I'll jump into a cab with you, and we'll come back and dine. I came on purpose." A glance tells you, if your ears did not, that your guest has settled the thing. His looks, his tone, his bearing, are in exquisite agreement; for a quiet conviction, that what _he_ has made up his mind to _must_ take place, there never was anything like it. You write a word or two, and in agitation blot; another line, and then an erasure again. _Does_ he mean to _stop_! Your perplexity increases. No, this smudge of a note will never do; you take another sheet and recommence your epistle. "Take your time, boy, take your time; we shan't dine till seven I suppose." Your eye wanders for an instant, and you discover that there is but _one_ hat in the room, and that the one is your own. His is hanging up with his umbrella; he had disposed of both, like a man who means to stay, before he entered the apartment. To struggle with Cool Sam is in vain, to attempt it absurd. To cry like the starling, "I can't get out," doesn't open the door of your cage. Instead of complaining, you soon feel grateful to him for his great consideration in allowing you to finish that letter. Instead of biting your lips through and through, you laugh over your good luck in being permitted to complete the work he had interrupted. But beyond that you have no will of your own. _Out!_ You might as well attempt to go out without your shadow. You may take a few turns at sunset, attended by your Mephistophiles; but before you go you must issue orders for what he calls "a light dinner with a few extras" at seven. You may mourn your day lost, if you will, but you must lose your evening nevertheless; and when once more alone at past midnight, you drop off to sleep, making to yourself many delicious vows of reform; the foremost of which is, that you will be up in good time in the morning, AND GET OUT. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER VIII. The attempt to break into Mrs. Heartwell's cottage, and the important discovery that succeeded, were, as far as possible, kept secret; and Mr. Wendover's steward, in expectation of another visit from the nocturnal intruder, set a watch upon the premises. No one, however, appeared to disturb the tranquillity of the place; but still the lady could not suppress her fears, and a constant dread weighed heavily upon her spirits. Frank had gone down to the Nore to join the prize-crew on board the Sandwich, but during his absence they had been sent round by sea to Plymouth, and as no other vessel was expected to go down the Channel for some time, he obtained permission to travel thither by land, hoping, as there had been a long run of strong westerly winds, to reach that port as soon as his men did. Accordingly he started for London to visit his mother, and finding her much alarmed, and averse to remaining at the cottage, he removed her to ready-furnished lodgings at Marylebone; when, after an interview with Mr. Unity Peach (who promised to use his best endeavours to promote the comfort of Mrs. Heartwell), the young officer set out in the mail for Plymouth, where, on his arrival, he at once reported himself on board the Admiral, and ascertained that the vessel with the seamen had not yet got round. As his own hammock and chest were in her, permission was granted for his remaining on shore till she came into the Sound. Of his ship nothing accurate was known, but it was believed she had gone up the Mediterranean, to join the fleet under Earl St. Vincent. Frank's ardent attachment to Helen had always exercised a powerful control over his actions. Before her departure from Finchley he had cherished the most sanguine hopes that his affection was returned; nothing, in fact, had ever occurred to raise the slightest doubt in his mind upon the subject; for the course of his love, though unavowed, had experienced no obstruction, nor was it till their separation that he awakened to a painful conviction of the vast difference which existed in their pecuniary circumstances. This raised apprehensions that he might have been deceiving himself, by mistaking the operations of a grateful spirit for feelings of personal regard towards himself. The mansion of Mr. Wendover was situated on the right bank of the river Fowey, close to the pretty and romantic harbour of the same name. The distance from Plymouth could not exceed twenty miles--the Falmouth coach passed within a short walk of the neighbourhood--a strong westerly breeze was blowing--what, then, prevented him from trying to obtain an interview with the fair girl, and to learn from her own lips the real sentiments which she entertained for him? Thus argued Frank. The temptation was too powerful to be subdued--his mind was tortured by suspense, and yielding to the quick impulse of his nature, in little more than three hours he was on the borders of the domain of the wealthy merchant--and a lovely place it was. The gradual development of spring was evidenced in the bright tints of the spreading foliage; the young grass was springing in rich luxuriance; art and nature were combined to heighten the beauty of the scenery; and slumbering on the surface of the stream that ran in front of the building, laid a superb little cutter-yacht, rigged with peculiar neatness, and her ensign blowing out freely in the wind. Frank's eyes glistened with the peculiar pleasure that a seaman always experiences when beholding a well-finished piece of work connected with his profession; but that was not all--the young midshipman rightly conjectured that the yacht belonged to Mr. Wendover; Helen had most likely sailed in it; and what would he not have given to have been with her, to display his knowledge of seamanship in managing the vessel. The little punt, with two men in it, put off from the cutter to the shore; Frank hurried to meet them when they landed; it was a precious opportunity by which he might gain information relative to the family. Flatter a sailor's vanity in reference to his craft, and you at once possess a key to his heart. The young officer praised the beautiful vessel, and having expressed a wish to inspect her closely, he was invited to go on board. This was precisely what he wanted; the men were communicative, and he was not long in ascertaining that Mr. Wendover had been summoned to London on urgent business--that Mrs. Wendover was confined to the house by indisposition--and that Miss Helen was often to be seen taking her lonely walks about the grounds. The deck of the yacht commanded a full view of the house and lawn, and Frank, whilst learning these particulars, watched eagerly, in hope that Helen would make her appearance; nor was he disappointed, for, after a short interval, a female was observed descending the steps of the mansion, and the spy-glass at once announced to him who it was. He had already taken a hasty survey of the vessel, and having presented a donation to the crew, he requested to be put on shore. Helen had never ceased to cherish a strong feeling of real affection for Frank Heartwell, but she had never adequately known its power and extent, till the period of their separation; and though her father had not openly declared the occasion of her removal from Finchley, yet love is quick-witted in discovering causes; and knowing his determined character, she saw at once that he had opposed a barrier to her heart's dearest wishes. His conversations relative to her future prospects of aggrandisement opened to her conviction that he expected rigid obedience to his commands. But Helen could not--in fact, she did not try, to conquer the esteem for the young sailor, which had strengthened with her years--he had been the means of rescuing herself and her parents from threatened destruction--gratitude had ripened into love, and had become the sweetest contemplation of her life. Yet Frank had never made any avowal, and doubts similar to his own would at times cross her mind. Mr. Wendover could not but be sensible, by the change in his daughter's health and gaiety, that the disappointment had caused the most acute distress; still, however, he hoped that time would deaden the affliction, and she would forget the young officer. It was in vain, however, that he strove to raise her sunken spirits by excursions of pleasure abroad, and amusing pastimes at home. The bloom was leaving her cheeks, and her beautiful form began to waste away, for there was a sickness at her heart. When Helen left the house that morning, her thoughts were dwelling upon Frank with all the tenderness of woman's gentle nature; she loved to stroll through the avenues alone, for no one there could disturb her meditations. She was turning the angle of one of the alleys, when Frank stood before her, and, the ardour of her feelings overcoming the coldness of formality, the next instant she was encircled in his arms, whilst unrepressed tears of surprise and delight came gushing from her eyes. When the first burst of joy at meeting had subsided, they conversed more calmly, and Frank, whose doubts had been at once dispersed through the undisguised manifestations of attachment which his reception had evinced, now unequivocally declared, that "the happiness of his future existence depended upon Helen. He was not insensible to the hostility he must expect to meet with from her father; but he hoped by strenuous exertions in his profession to overcome even that, provided he might rely with confidence on her undeviating regard." Their interview was not of long duration, but it was decisive to the peace of both. Helen candidly admitted her love for Frank, and though with the acknowledgment came apprehensions of her father's displeasure, yet he tried to soothe her alarm, by assurances that his prospects would brighten--prosperity had already smiled upon him--and could he once attain the rank of captain, he should consider himself eligible to propose to Mr. Wendover for his daughter's hand. At all events, he determined to persevere with unremitting ardour and hope, and enterprise gave promise of success. Harmonious to the ear and grateful to the heart is the persuasive voice of one beloved. Helen placed perfect reliance on all Frank said, and there, in the sight of Heaven, they mutually pledged their vows of faith and constancy. The young officer returned to Plymouth more assured, nay, comparatively happy, and, the vessel arriving with his people, he solicited to be put in active service. A number of ships were fitting out to join Earl St. Vincent, and strengthen the force in the Mediterranean. Frank and his men were sent on board a frigate, which soon afterwards went out from Hamoaze into Cawsand Bay, but, as a matter of course, the boats were still employed in bringing off stores. It was about three weeks after his interview with Helen, that Frank had charge of a pinnace to convey a rather heavy freight from the Dockyard, and though blowing hard from the north-west, he had strict orders to use his best endeavours to get out to the ship. The gale, however, increased, and the broken sea came tumbling in against a strong tide, so that he was driven to leeward. A dark night closed in upon them--the boat was half full of water--and, to add to their calamities, they struck upon the Shagstone rocks, and narrowly escaped with their lives. The pinnace was in a sinking state, when Frank deemed it advisable to lighten the boat, and to bear up for Yealur river; but the atmosphere was too dense to allow of their distinguishing objects on the land, and the sea was breaking fearfully high wherever they approached the shore, so that it threatened certain death should an attempt be made to run the boat in. All night they toiled, but towards daylight they were so close to the rocks, and drifted in so fast, that their fate seemed inevitable. The pinnace struck and was dashed to pieces; but Frank, being an excellent swimmer, after some buffeting amongst the breakers, succeeded in getting sure footing; and now that he was himself in safety, his anxious care was turned to his boat's crew. This is a trying moment to an officer, whose first thoughts are generally devoted to the brave fellows who have shared his perils, and Frank felt it. Two or three he knew were saved, for they were with him, but the fate of the rest could be but conjecture. Happily, however, though separated when wrecked, daylight brought them again round their officer, and the reckless humour of the tar soon prevailed over all sense of the dangers they had escaped. A few fishermen's huts afforded them shelter, and as these men occasionally ran across to Guernsey and Jersey, there was no lack of brandy, though at first it was produced with great caution. The pinnace was irrecoverably gone--not a single trace of her was to be seen, and, consequently, after a plentiful repast, and a short rest, Frank prepared to set out with his men on foot for Mount Batten, where he expected to obtain boats to carry them over to Plymouth. The gallant fellows had mustered in what they called "good sailing trim," and were just on the point of departure when a cutter was seen urging her wild and headlong course towards the rocks, and from the manner of her approach, a nautical eye could easily detect that either her rudder was gone, or had sustained so much injury as to defy all control from the helm--her sails were blown to ribands--her topmast and bowsprit were carried away--and it was evident to all that she was hurrying to destruction. Sometimes taking the seas clean over her broadside; at others almost buried beneath the waves that broke over as she rushed stem on, the deck of the cutter was now distinctly visible, as the crew, in wild despair, were clinging to the rigging; but what was Frank's agony when, by the aid of a glass he recognized the vessel to be the pretty little yacht that he had inspected, as she laid at anchor before Mr. Wendover's house, at Fowey; and as he could distinguish the white dresses of females, he made no doubt that Helen and her mother were on board. The young officer immediately assumed a command--his own men were prompt in obedience, and the fishermen were not less so through humanity. They tried to launch a boat, but the thing was impracticable; the sea drove her instantly back again, a perfect wreck. Onwards came the cutter, till she struck on the rocks, at no great distance from the shore; the boat was launched from her deck, and a temporary lull enabled most of those on board to jump into her; but another sea came rolling in, and the boat was separated from the vessel. What anxious agonizing moments were those to Frank! he could not see who had left the cutter; but amidst the foaming of the breakers, it was evident that more than one swimmer in his strong agony was struggling with death. The small boat rose buoyant on the summits of the waves; the men pulled steadily; the people on shore waved them to the safest place for landing, and thither they sped; but before they could reach the shore they were caught by the recoil of the sea, as a raging breaker came curling its monstrous head astern, the boat was overset by its violence, and then dashed up upon the strand. In a moment Frank threw off his coat and waistcoat, and with his hardy band, rushed forward and grasped at all within their reach; the young midshipman was guided to a female, by her clothes appearing for an instant floating on the surface of the troubled waters. She was sinking, but he dived and brought her up again, just as the swell washed them within the range of further help from the shore, and the female was carried forward to a place of safety; it was Helen's mother. But where was the daughter? Frank would have again plunged into the waves; but on passing through a group, near where the boat had been thrown up, he heard the voice of Mr. Wendover, in earnest entreaty for them "to save his child." He seemed to be almost bereft of reason, as he wildly clutched his hair in agony, and pointed to the cutter, where a female was discerned clinging to the taffrail. "Launch the boat again!" he loudly shouted, "I will go myself if no one will accompany me;" and then with imploring cries he offered the most lavish rewards to any one who should save his child from such imminent danger. To satisfy him, the men endeavoured to launch the boat--but Frank saw the impossibility of accomplishing it, and instantly nerved himself for the occasion, with coolness and intrepidity. He watched for a moment the set of the tide and the drift of the sea; then hurrying to a projecting rock to take advantage of both, he bound a handkerchief tight round his loins, as he looked undauntedly upon his task, breathed a short prayer to Heaven for its aid, and then exclaiming "Helen, Helen, I will save you or we will die together!" he plunged into the foaming billows just as the boat washed back again upon the beach showed the utter impracticability of affording help from that quarter. All eyes were now directed towards the swimmer, who boldly breasted the surge, dashing aside the white spray, as the raging element yielded to the energy of his sinewy arms: sometimes lost to sight in the hollow between the waves, then rising on the coom of the sea, he became a conspicuous object as he fearlessly cleaved his way, and bursts of admiration, as well as fervent petitions for his success, arose from the throng assembled on the shore. [Illustration: The Wreck. London: Tilt & Bogue, Fleet Street.] The fainting Helen beheld his approach, but she knew not who it was that was thus risking his existence to try and preserve hers--the never-dying principles of hope revived her faculties; though at times when the head of the swimmer was obscured by intervening billows, her heart sickened with alarm as she feared he had sunk to rise no more. Then again when surmounting the crest of the wave, she saw him fearlessly lessening the distance between them, a re-action took place in her bosom, and fervently she prayed to the Omnipotent to stretch forth his hand and save. The pleasures of past enjoyments never seem so precious and valuable as when the extreme of peril threatens dissolution. Home, friends, and those beloved cling round the very soul as if to bind it more firmly to existence, and to render more arduous the struggle of separation from the body. Helen experienced this as the seas came breaking over the cutter, and she beheld her relatives upon the shore. But her principal remembrances were devoted to Frank; and as the swimmer approached, and his features became more distinct, she fancied she could trace a resemblance to him of whom she was thinking; the bare conjecture caused a sudden thrill through every vein; but when she heard the voice of her lover as he ascended to the deck and gained the taffrail, even the appalling danger was almost forgotten in the sudden delight of her heart at his noble and generous conduct. His presence re-assured her; his soothing language allayed her fears; and though the sea at intervals broke over them, yet there was now a confidence in her bosom, for Frank was with her. But no time was to be lost; the young midshipman feared that his own strength would not bear him out to carry her to the shore; the wreck of the main-boom was floating alongside, and he resolved to lash Helen to the spar. At first she shrunk from the hazard, but Frank clasped her in his arms, pressed her to his heart, and fervently imploring the blessing of Omnipotence upon his efforts, at once proceeded to his perilous undertaking; he succeeded in lashing Helen to the boom, impressed upon her mind the absolute necessity of clinging fast to her support, and then with his knife was cutting away the jaw-rope, as the body of a female floated up the space that had been covered by the skylight--she was dead. Helen did not see her, and Frank, without delay, separated the boom from the wreck. Then springing into the sea, he directed the course of its drift for the shore, where the agonized father and the anxious seamen beheld what was passing, and waited in excited expectation for the result. The raft bore up its burthen well, and Frank swimming close to her cheered the terrified girl as they neared the land, and the waves dashed over them with resistless fury. The spectators calculating the precise spot where they would take the ground, hastened thither, and more than one brave fellow rushed through the surf to lend his officer a hand. They were in the breakers; the boiling and bubbling foam was raging around them--the noise of the waters was hissing and howling in their ears, when Frank cut away the lashing that sustained Helen, and disengaged her from the spar, lest she should be injured by the concussion as it struck the rocks: supporting her by one arm, he manfully plied the other; two of the seamen kept near him; a heavy sea rolled them over, but Frank, though almost exhausted, still maintained his hold; the next minute they were washed up upon the shore, and, raised on the shoulders of the people, were carried to dry land. Extreme, indeed, was the joy of Mr. Wendover as he clasped his child, and implored blessings on her deliverer, whom in his wet condition, with his hair hanging about his face, the merchant did not recognize, but to whom he promised payment of the large reward which he had offered, supposing that alone to have been the motive for going to the rescue of Helen. Frank made no reply, for ignorant of Mr. Wendover's forgetfulness, he imagined that he must be known, and he felt indignant at money being offered for saving one who was far more precious to him than his own life. Helen was carried to the hut where her mother had already been kindly cared for, and the merchant never left his child, who, at first, sank into insensibility through terror and fatigue, and on her recovery gazed wildly round, and called upon Frank as her rescuer from death. Mr. Wendover at first considered it the ravings of a disordered imagination; but when grown more calm his daughter assured him of the fact, the merchant exclaimed, "The hand of Providence is in this; he above all others is the man I wish to see, nor will I any longer oppose your affection; he has a second time saved my child, and he is worthy of her." Wishing to atone for his neglect, he went himself in search of Frank, but young Heartwell, after seeing Helen in security, had quitted the place with his people, and was some distance on his way to Plymouth. One of the seamen of the cutter accompanied them, and from him the young officer learned that they were on their way round to the Thames when the gale caught them. At the time the yacht struck the rocks and the boat was launched, a favourite servant of Miss Wendover's was in the cabin; Helen had generously hastened down with the captain to fetch her up. Whilst thus engaged, the rope that held the boat parted--the cabin was nearly filled--Helen was forced by the captain to the deck and lashed to the taffrail--he himself was washed overboard; and Frank rightly conjectured that the body he had seen floating was that of the drowned servant. Mr. Wendover would have sent messengers after young Heartwell, but, as he purposed removing his family as soon as conveyances could be procured, he thought the delay of a day or two could not be of much consequence; but when the time arrived, and Helen was all delight at the prospect which was opening before her, they ascertained that the frigate had sailed only a few hours before for the Mediterranean. A THEATRICAL CURIOSITY. Once in a barn theatric, deep in Kent, A famed tragedian--one of tuneful tongue-- Appeared for that night only--'twas Charles Young. As Rolla he. And as that Innocent, The Child of hapless Cora, on there went A smiling, fair-hair'd girl. She scarcely flung A shadow, as she walked the lamps among-- So light she seem'd, and so intelligent! That child would Rolla bear to Cora's lap: Snatching the creature by her tiny gown, He plants her on his shoulder,--All, all clap! While all with praise the Infant Wonder crown, _She_ lisps in Rolla's ear,--"_Look out, old chap, Or else I'm blow'd if you don't have me down!_" SLIDING-SCALES. The most remarkable sliding-scale of which Fiction has any record is the rainbow on which Munchausen, with such inimitable ease, effected his railroad descent from mid-air; but Fact has her extraordinary sliding-scales too. Take a modern example in the one which carried Napoleon from Moscow to Elba, equalled only by that which bore him afterwards from Waterloo to St. Helena. Life in its several stages is but a succession of sliding-scales. Take a bird's-eye view of society, and what do you see but two classes; one endeavouring to slide up an ascent, and another endeavouring not to slide down. The world, instead of being represented as round as an O, might more aptly be figured by the letter A, which is composed of two inclined planes; the way up being narrow and hard to climb, but the way down being broad and open enough. There is the moral sliding-scale and the intellectual sliding-scale. On the one, we see a man passing, by regular degrees, from a meanness to a degradation; from a little shabbiness to a great crime; from a lie thought to a lie acted; from an evasion to a shuffle; from a shuffle to a swindle; from swindling to consummate depravity; from the first sixpence penuriously saved to the heaped hoards of avarice. On the other, we see the mind gradually drawn out from weakness to power; from dulness to brilliancy; from the frivolous dreams of childhood to the conceptions of a gigantic imagination; the heavy schoolboy ripening into the lively poet; the reckless truant settling into the wise and thoughtful student. There is the sliding-scale of fortune, the sliding-scale of manners, the sliding-scale of appetite; penury slides into affluence, rustic modesty becomes town-bred impudence, the _gourmand_ eats himself down to a dry crust. It is sad enough to see a gentlemen slide off his saddle-horse, and take to drawing a truck; but these declensions will happen, and they are not so distressing as it is to see a philosopher turning footman, an orator turning twaddler, or a patriot turning toady. Then there is the sliding-scale theatrical. By what a natural and unerring sliding-scale does some popular tragedian come down at last from Richard the Third to the Lord Mayor! "I wore that very dress as Romeo," said a London player, of small parts, "when I starred it in the provinces." The romantic beauty of Juliet declines into the grotesque rheumatism of the Nurse. We say nothing of the tradesman's scale, which is an affair of weights; nor of the scale-musical, which is one of measures. But of the sliding-scale which is best understood, and perhaps most freely acted upon in every great city and small town, our marginal series of "scenes from real life" will afford the best exemplification; and so we direct the reader to them. [Illustration] [Illustration] SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. BY A. BIRD. A STAGE-COACH RACE. Poor Macadam! his honoured dust will soon be forgotten! In cities it is buried, or soon will be, in wood; and few of the millions who glide and slide over the wooden pavement, will think of the "Colossus of Roads," whose dust it covers like a coffin. Our course is no longer "o'er hills and dales, through woods and vales," which the many-handed Macadam made smooth and easy. Our carriage, placed like the toy of a child, goes without horses. The beautiful country--the cheerful "public," with its porch, its honeysuckle and roses--the sign which bade the "weary traveller rest" on the seat beneath the spreading elm;--these are no more!--This is the iron age--fire and steam are as the breath of our nostrils--we speak by the flash of lightning--we have given life to emptiness, and fly upon the wings of a vacuum--our path is through the blasted rock, the cold dark dreary tunnel--through cheerless banks, which shut us from the world like a living grave--on--on--on--we speed! The dying must die! The burning must burn! There is no appeal--no tarrying by the way. Like the whirlwind we are hurried to our end. The screech of women in despair is drowned by the clash, the din, the screech of the "blatant beast," the mad monster which man has laid his finger on, and tamed to his uses. This is all very fine, and, doubtless, _il faut marcher avec son siècle_, if we do not wish to be left behind in the race that is before us. Doubtless, too, our children, like calves born by the side of a railroad, will look on these things as a matter of course, and let them pass with high-bred indifference. And if, as most assuredly will be the case, some of these children should become mothers in due course of time, we can fancy them so philosophized by force of habit, so inured to the wholesale smashing and crashing of the human form divine, that, should a door fly open and let an infant drop, the mama will sit quiet till the next station cries Halt! and then merely request that a man and basket be despatched to pick up the pieces left some seven miles off![15] "_Chi lo sa!_" as the Neapolitans say in cases of extreme doubt and difficulty; "_chi lo sa_," say I; and having been born before the earth was swaddled up in iron, or the sea danced over by iron ships, I confess a sneaking fondness for the highways, and byways, and old ways of old England; and, when not pressed for time, I delight in honouring the remains of poor old Macadam. A fortnight ago, having occasion to visit Somerset, I found myself _en route_, at Cheltenham--a place, by the way, which always reminds me of miscellaneous articles stored in a second-hand shop; it is sure to come into use once in seven years. There I was for the night, luxuriously lodged in this Anglo-foreign town, this self-styled "queen of watering-places," this city of salt--or salts, as some malicious pluralists will have it--there I was, and long ere morning broke, I had decided upon cutting the rail and coaching it to Bristol; in other words, as time was not an object, I would not go some fifty miles round to save it. I was soon seated by my old friend, "coachee." Coachee was a character _sui generis_, of a race which will soon be extinct; I had known him in the "palmy days" of the road, and remembered the time when he, with his pair, was selected to tease and oppose the prettiest four-in-hand that ever trotted fourteen miles an hour. It was, if I'm not mistaken, in 1832, that "The Exquisite" first started from Exeter to Cheltenham, and weighing the coach, the cattle and coachman together, never was a turn-out more worthy of the title. To oppose this with a pair was a bold conception, but "coachee" was an old stager; "what man dared do" he dared, and did it well. "Strange changes, Mr. Coachee, since you and I first knew each other," said I to my right hand friend, as soon as we had cleared the rattle of the stones. Coachee turned his head slowly round, and looked me full in the face; he _drew in_ such a sigh, and put on such a look of miserable scorn, that I felt for the silent sufferer. Yet was I dumbfounded by his silence; I had looked for the jibes and jests which were wont to put us outsides in a roar,--but to see "coachee" turned into a man of mute sorrow, was a character so new and unnatural, that--extremes will meet--I burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Coachee attempted to preserve the penseroso, and with ill-feigned gravity tried to reprove me, by saying,--"_You_ may laugh, sir, but it's no joke for _us_ as loses." With what tact I could bring to bear, I revived the memory of former days, the coachman's golden age! I spoke of "the Exquisite," and asked if he did not once beat it with his pair. "So you've heard tell of that, have you?" And Alexander never chuckled half so much to hear his praises sung, as coachee did at the thoughts of his victory. I told him I had heard of it from others, but never from his own mouth, which was half the battle. There needed but little persuasion to make him tell his own story. "It's all as true as I am sitting on this here box, and this is how it came to pass. It was one Sunday evening that some of us whips had met to crack a few bottles. 'The Exquisite' had just been put upon the road, and who should be there but Mr. Banks as drove it, and who should be there too but I as was started to oppose it. Well, it so happened I hadn't a single passenger booked inside nor out, for Monday! Well, thinks I, Mr. Banks, if I and my coach can't give you the go-by to-morrow, I don't know inside from out, and so I told him. 'That's _your_ opinion is it, Mr. Bond?' said Mr. Banks, with a smile, and a sniff at a pink in his button-hole. 'Yes, Mr. Banks,' says I; 'and what's more, I'll stick to it, and here's a sovereign to back it.' Will. Meadows, him as used to drive the 'Hi-run-dell,' he thought he'd do me; so he claps down his bit of gold, and the bet was made. There's an end of that, said I, and now, Mr. Banks, let's have a bumper. 'Here's to you, my Exquisite,' says I, as we bobbed and nobbed. 'Here's to you, Mr. H-opposition,' says he, and I hopes you'll tell me the time o' day to-morrow morning.' But he didn't think I should for all that. Well, now, sir, what do you think I should find when I goes the first thing on Monday morning to our office?" "Your H-opposition coach and a pair of horses?" said I, inquiringly. "Right enough, so far,--but what think you of finding four ins and eight outs, all booked for Bristol! Well, thinks I, Mr. Banks, this alters the case, and my sovereign felt uncommon light all of a sudden. Howsomever, up I gets, and, says I to my box-companion, you won't mind if I goes a little fast, will you? 'Mind!' said he, 'why, you can't go too fast for me.' He was one of the right sort, d'ye see, and enjoyed the fun as much as me. 'All right?' says I; 'All right,' says Bill, and away we goes. I got the start, for in those days 'the Exquisite' was sure to load like a waggon. Away I went, with such a pair! they stepped as if they hadn't got but four legs between 'em; and, up to Gloucester, Mr. Exquisite's four tits couldn't touch 'em. Now, as ill-luck would have it, it wasn't my day for 'the Bell,' so while I turns out of the line to change at the Booth Hall, up comes 'the Exquisite' and gives us the go-by: there warn't no help for it, but what aggravated me the most was, to see Mr. Banks tip me a nod with his elbow, as much as to say, 'Good bye till to-morrow!' What was worse, two of my ins was booked for Gloucester; and what was worse again, they was both ladies. Now, ladies--bless 'em all for all that!--but ladies and luggage are one, says I, they never goes apart; and such a load of traps I never see'd, with a poll parrot, and a dozen dicky-birds for a clincher! Well, there warn't no help for it.--Come, Jacky, my boy, says I, give a hand with them straps--there--now t'other--all snug?--off with you!--And Jack soon found the wheel warn't meant for a footstool--off he leapt--the ladder fell into the gutter, and away we went at last. We couldn't touch 'em that stage--no wonder neither, for there never was a prettier team before me, and that 'ere Exquisite chap--though I used to call him 'Mr. H-opposition'--handled his ribbons like a man. The dust was light, and I tracked him like a hare in the snow. He never lost an inch that day--there were his two wheel-marks right ahead--straight as an arrow, and looked for all the world as if ruled with a--what do ye call them 'ere rulers that walk after one another?" I hesitated for a moment, and then hit upon--a parallel ruler-- "Aye, to be sure. Well, his two tracks looked for all the world as if they'd been ruled with a parable ruler; but for all that, we got a sight of him before he changed again. 'Now or never!' thought I, for I could do as I liked in those days, as one man horsed the whole line. 'So,' says I to our ostler, 'you go and clap the harness on the bay-mare, while I tackle these two; I've a heavy load, and wants a little help.' No sooner said, than done. 'Now, my pretty one,' says I to the little mare, 'you must step out for me to-day, and it's in you I know.' So I just let my lash fall like a feather on her haunch, and, for the life and soul of me, I thought she'd have leapt out of the harness. All right, thinks I, I have it now; and bating twelvepence, my sovereign's worth a guinea. "We wasn't long a coming up, and when 'Mr. H-opposition' saw my pair with the bay mare a-head, he didn't like it, you may be sure of that. Well, I let's him take the lead that stage. We wasn't long a changing--a wisp o' wet hay to the little mare's nose, and away she went again as fresh as a four-year-old, and 'the Exquisite' couldn't get away from us no more than a dog from his tail. "'Ah!' says Mr. Banks, as I puts my leader alongside of him, 'is that you, Mr. Bond! have you been coming across the fields? I didn't think to hear the time o' day from you, Mr. Bond.' 'Didn't you?' says I. 'No,' says, he; 'shall I say you're a coming into Bristol?' "Before I could say yes or no, he gave the prettiest double cut to his leaders with one turn of his hand, that ever I see'd--they sprang like light--whish! whish! went the double thong across the wheelers.--He warn't a second about it all, and while I looked, he was gone like a shot. Though I didn't like it much then, I must say it was the cleanest start I ever clapped eyes upon, and ne'er a whip in England couldn't say it warn't. 'No chance that stage,' said I, growing rather impatient; we warn't far behind for all that--and now, thought I, comes my turn--play or pay's the word--for I knowed my country; leaders down hill ben't no manner of use, quite contrawise; a coachman has enough to do to keep the pole from tickling their tails, and hasn't much time for nothing else. The little mare had done her work, and away we went with such a pair! They'd ha' pulled the wheels off if I'd 'a told them; they know'd I'd got a bet as well as if I'd said so, and away they went the railroad pace." "What!" asked I, "before railroads were thought of?" Coachee always had his answer--"What if they war'n't?--no odds for that--we got the start of _them_ that day, and, maybe, they took the hint--worse luck too, say I--but away we went--it was all neck-and-neck--first and second--second and first. If Banks beat, up--Bond beat, down--till at last 'Mr. H-opposition' see'd how the game was going, and that he hadn't a chance; but he wouldn't allow it, not he. So he pulls up and calls to his guard, and tells him to put the tackle to rights, though there war'n't nothing the matter--and lets me go by as if he wasn't beaten. So, as we passes, I pulls out my watch and _tells him the time o' day_! 'and, Mr. Banks,' says I, 'what shall I order for your supper?'" As coachee wound up the tale of his by-gone victory, it brought on a fit of laughter, which I began to think would never end; when, on a sudden it ceased, and with horror and consternation painted in his face, he exclaimed, "Well, bless my heart alive, that ever I should live to see such a thing!" "Where! what!" said I looking right and left, and almost expecting to see some wonderful beast pop over the hedge. "Well, now, it hasn't got no outside, and"--after a pause--"no, nor I'm blest if it has any inside!" I guessed his meaning by this time; but affecting ignorance, I asked, "What is that wonderful animal without any inside?" "Animal!" he exclaimed, "why, don't you see the poor old Exquisite a coming by itself?" "There is a coachman," said I, as gravely as I could. "Poor Banks!" said coachee, quite touched with compassion, and heedless of my remark. He pulled up, so did the Exquisite. "Well, now, I'm blest, if this isn't worse than solitary confinement, it makes my stomach ache, Mr. Banks!" (A poet would have said, "_my heart_," but depend upon it, coachee meant the same thing.) "A bad day's work, Mr. Bond, but we can't expect no otherwise now," said he of the once "palmy" Exquisite, yet looking more cheerful than might have been expected. "A sad change, Mr. Banks. Why, that 'ere near leader looks as if it hadn't strength to draw your hat off." "You're about right there, Mr. Bond, but,"--and here the flash of humour of brighter days lit up the features of Mr. Banks,--"but do you know what the Tories are going to do with us old coachmen?" Mr. Bond shook his head, and murmured--"Not I!" "Well, then, I'll tell you, Mr. Bond: they're agoing to plant us for milestones along the railroad." Another fit of laughter came on, and it was with difficulty that Mr. Bond could articulate, "Good bye! good bye!" as we drove on our course to Bristol. [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 15: Not long since a man, heedless or drunk, fell asleep upon a railroad; the train arrived, and literally cut him to pieces. "I suppose, sir, we had better _get the man together_?" said a labourer, soon after the accident had occurred. "By all means," answered he in authority. Death is but death, we allow; but death by the railroad is not only wholesale but frightfully terrific. To avoid the chance of such accidents, when possible, is an imperative duty, and every road which crosses a _railroad_ should be _over or under it_. We need only refer to two recent accidents caused by the want of such prevention.] ANOTHER CURIOSITY OF LITERATURE. The Knocker aches with motion; day by day The door groans on with hard and desperate knocks; Duns--gentle, fervent, furious--come in flocks; And still they press, and still they go away, And call again, and saunter off, or stay; Duns of all shapes--the goose, the wolf, the fox-- All punctual by their several parish-clocks: And still the answer is the same--no pay! Alas! that house one penny doth not hold,-- One farthing were not found, on hands and knees, No, not a doit, in all its crevices; Yet sits the Inmate, cramp'd, and lean, and cold, Writing a pamphlet;--and its title? "_Gold!_ Or, England's Debt paid off with perfect ease." A HORRIBLE PASSAGE IN MY EARLY LIFE. "Make the most of your school-days, my lad; they'll be the happiest of your life!" So said a kind friend, who called on me once when I was in that state called _pupillaris_. He gave me the advice, and I grinned approval; he did _not_ give me a "tip," and I considered him a mean and despicable wretch, and his advice not worth listening to. Still did the words oft recur to me; and with especial force did they recur on the subsequent Saturday, when I was preparing to "avail myself of a kind invitation" to dine and sleep out, and was packing carefully up, in a crumpled piece of _Bell's Life_, (which, in the capacity of fag, I had appropriated as a perquisite from my master's store,) such necessaries as such a sojourn demanded. And the result was, that as my nose inhaled the undeniable evidence of the approach of dinner below, and I felt the pleasing conviction to an empty stomach, that, until seven, at least, _I_ should not hear the apoplectic butler assert, in voice abdominal, that dinner was on the table, I gave a long sniff, and sighed, "Well! perhaps they are!" I had got at last clear of the city. My pocket was devoid of coin--of the lowest even, else should I have called a cab, (for in those days neither Shillibeer nor G. C^k. had started a "bus.") As it was, I walked, and was just entering Piccadilly from the Circus, when a laugh in my rear made me turn rapidly, and my eyes encountered--a tall butcher's boy! He was habited in a grey frieze coat, corduroy smalls, and blue apron. His hair was well plastered down. He had no cap; but he had a pair of "aggravators" trained on either temple. His eyes were large; his cheeks beefy; and withal, he carried on his shoulder a tray, and _it_ carried--ugh!----a large piece of _liver_! _That_ I saw _then_. An indescribable awe spread through my frame--my feelings were what the wretch behind me would have called "offal." I knew, as though by instinct, that I had in Piccadilly seen, what Napoleon saw at Acre--the man who should mar my destiny! Abstractedly, there is nothing absolutely and inherently vicious in a butcher's boy; on the contrary, he may be decidedly virtuous--nay, we have in our mind's eye cases which would go far to prove that high moral integrity and humanity of sentiment are quite compatible with his most necessary trade. Is it then asked, why this individual should excite at once in my boyish bosom such lively feelings of horror--such forebodings of evil? I can give no more reason for it than did my friend Grant, (who tells such jolly stories,) for declining to show his box of silk-worms to an inquiring friend. "Grant! just let's have a look at your silk-worms--there's a good fellow!"--"No!"--"Why not, man?"--"_Because not!_" My answer must be similar in spirit, if not in letter. I _knew_ that the odious individual was destined to be my evil genius for the day. But to my tale. The owner of the large optics--the bearer of "the tray," returned my gaze. Its result as to any favourable impression of my personal appearance on his mind seemed doubtful. He merely remarked, however, "Vell, you _are_ a nice swell for a small party, you are!" I walked on. The observation set me contemplating my admirable blue jacket, with its neat row of buttons; my exceedingly pleasing waistcoat, and pantaloons of black; my large white collar, and unexceptionable shirt-front; not to mention the Oxford shoes, and the beaver hat, which, on a pretence of excessive heat, and after the manner of elderly gentlemen in Kensington Gardens, I took off, that my eyes might be satisfied that _it_ was all right. The result of the scrutiny was a feeling that the remark of the wretch (who might or might not be following--look round again I dared not) was not only quite natural, but, taking the word "swell" in its better acceptation, quite consistent with the truth. On, therefore, I walked, and by the time I reached Sackville Street, became tranquil again. Now, to all London peripatetics the print-shop at the corner of that street must be well known. It was at this identical place that I made a halt, and a determination at the same time to have a regular jolly good look at all the pictures (for by St. James's it was now only two o'clock); beginning, in the orthodox way, with the last bar of the "airy" up Sackville Street, and "the Norwich mail in a thunderstorm;" and gradually proceeding to the last bar up Piccadilly, and an earnest scrutiny of some stout gentleman in spectacles, who always _will_ stand at the end of a print-shop window, to prevent one's satisfactorily finishing everything. "How uncertain are all sublunary things!"--"All that's bright must fade," &c., are remarks which one occasionally meets with in the works of English authors, and is very apt to treat with contempt. Yet who can predicate at two o'clock that he shall be happy at a quarter past? I had, in the prosecution of my plan, got half-way down the railings in Sackville Street, and had arrived opposite a peculiar pane of glass, wherein, as in a mirror, my own happy face, and the especial whiteness of my shirt-collar, were revealed to my gratified vision. I had just given the last-named a gentle pull up, and was smiling in the consciousness of "youth and grace, and"--in short, I was _satisfied_ with myself--when-- "Vell, I'm blowed if you an't precious sveet on that 'ere phiz o' your'n, young un!" I turned in horror. Close behind me there stood a butcher's boy--_the_ butcher's boy! (there was but one in London that day)--those eyes--those corduroys--_that tray_! I shrunk within myself--I almost wished that the bar I stood on might give way and admit me into the "airy." I mechanically uttered some deprecatory expression, scarce conscious of anything but the existence of a butcher's boy, with large eyes, and a tray! "Vell, Turnips!" (I had light--very light hair) "vot are yer a looking at now?--a com-paring that ugly phiz o' yourn with a gen'leman's?" I felt that the last word conveyed a reproach, and my spirits rose so high as to explode in the assertion, "I didn't speak to you!" "O, didn't yer, Turnips?-vell, just take _that_, then; and never mind the change!" His hand was raised rapidly to his tray--a dark substance rose high in the air. Blash! it came--all over my face--my collar: _the_ cherished collar! My eyes sought the pane wherein so lately I had gazed with pride. "One dark red stain" was too visible. I _felt_ then, and _knew_, that I had had my face slapped--literally slapped--with a piece of _liver_! The criminal on the gallows, exposed to the groans of the brutal mob, may feel as degraded (no one else can) as I did, whilst weeping I pursued my way. The very red plush smalls of him who admitted me at last into the privacy of a house, from the gaze of grinning thousands, seemed to mock my misery. I dared not go up-stairs. I remained below weeping; till a kind old lady--whence should relief to the wretched come?--came to comfort me. My face was cleansed from the stain, but remembrance could not be washed away; I was supplied with a pretty suit from her son's wardrobe--it could not cover my sense of degradation. Even the desired dinner failed to bring the desired oblivion; and when two elderly ladies who _would_ sing duets began to practise their favourite one, the words that struck my ears were, "Flow on, thou shining _liver_!" * * * JOHN COPUS. The miscreant author of my woe has not escaped. For in one of _his_ limnings in whose vehicle I ride, there may be seen, with a malicious grin on his face, such as he wore after the consummation of my woe, contemplating the capture of poor Oliver Twist by the interesting Nancy, and her ruffian Bill Sikes--a _butcher's boy_. Note him well--_the_ butcher's boy. Hair--corduroys--and _tray_!--J. C. *** Our sensitive and acutely-suffering correspondent who so keenly remembers the woes of his boyhood, has, by the force of his memory, recalled to our own recollection another specimen of the tray-carrying fraternity. We subjoin his portrait, for the benefit of every juvenile diner-out who entertains a horror of liver! The artist insists that it _is_ a portrait, and no invention. [Illustration] TWO OF A TRADE. "With such a dear companion at my side."---WORDSWORTH. Oh! marvellous Boy, what marvel when I met thy Dog and thee, I marvell'd if to dogs or men You traced your ancestry! If changed from what you once were known, As sorrow turns to joy, The Boy more like the Dog had grown, The Dog more like the Boy. It would a prophet's eyesight baulk, To see through time's dark fog, If on four legs the Boy will walk, Or if on two the Dog. Oh pair! what were ye both _at first_? The one a feeble pup; A babe the other, fondly nursed-- How _have_ ye been brought up? Oh, Boy! and wert thou once a child, A cherub small and soft, On whom two human beings smiled, And pray'd for, oft and oft? A creature, rosy, plump and fair, Half meekness and half joy; A wingless angel with light hair!-- Oh! wert thou, Butcher-boy? A thing more gentle, laughing, light, More blythe, more full of play, Than e'er _he_ was--that luckless wight!-- The lamb you stuck to-day? And thou, O Dog, with deep-set eyes, Wert thou, like Love, once blind; With helpless limbs, of pigmy size, And voice that scarcely whined? How grew your legs so like to _his_, Your growl so like his tone? And when did he first see your phiz Reflected in his own? Bravely have both your likeness worn; Alike, without, within; Brethren ye are, and each was born, Like Happiness, "a twin!" Yet can it be, oh! Butcher-boy, Thou com'st of Adam's race? Then Adam's gold has much alloy!-- Was this _his_ form and face? Art thou descended from the pair From whom the Cæsars came? Wore Alexander such an air? Look'd Cheops much the same? And thou, oh! Butcher's cur, is't true That _thy_ first parents e'er From Eden's garden lapp'd the dew, And breathed in rapture there? Yes! those from whom you spring, no doubt, Who lived like dogs, and died, Must once have follow'd Eve about, And walk'd by Adam's side. L. B. OMNIBUS CHAT. The noble art of boxing made a hit in its day; but it is now numbered amongst the dead or dying, and the art of striking reigns in its stead. Little has been heard of throughout the month but the "strikes" that have taken place at the various public works, among the masons. "Masonic brethren" they have proved themselves, by the secrecy of their communications, and the sympathetic character of their movements. They struck first at the Houses of Parliament, then at Nelson's Monument, then at Woolwich. Not being in want of bread, they refused us a stone. Punctual to a moment, as the Horse Guards' clock struck, they did. Our Omnibus stopped, like the workmen, at Charing-cross. "So the masons at Nelson's Monument are going to strike," said we. "Glad to hear it," rejoined a punning acquaintance, "there ought to be something striking about a monument to _him_!" The name of Nelson set all our companions talking; but an "old sailor" (not _the_) was the first to give his discourse a reportable shape, by relating a little historical fact that has escaped history--unimportant, perhaps, but not uninteresting. THE TWO NAVAL HEROES. Everybody knows Tower Hill, but it is not every one we meet with in an Omnibus, who can recollect it as it was fifty years ago, when Steel kept his shop there, and first published the Navy List. However, we cannot stop to speak of him, or his book, nor of the itinerants who were wont to vend their various wares under the trees which shaded the houses in Postern-row; nor of the pump, which then, as now, was declared to be a very good pump; nor of the ditch, into which, in that day, many a passenger was tumbled after being robbed and beaten by the thieves and disorderlies--land privateers as they were called, who cruised in the neighbourhood after dark. We do not intend to relate any thing of these, nor of the sundry stout, ill-favoured, savage-looking vagabonds in fearnought coats, who were ever to be found lolling over the row of posts which fenced the eastern side of the hill--the commissioned press-gang, who used to amuse themselves by scrutinizing the passers-by, and now and then by breaking the head of some unfortunate blue-jacket who had incautiously strolled too near their precincts to avoid capture or a fight. We have taken you out of the city, reader, into a district not inhabited by the most honest or well conducted; but we must still bring you through East Smithfield into Wapping, to a spot a little west of the entrance of the London Docks; and hereabouts one Richardson kept a slop-shop. Early one morning a cheerful-looking hale old man came out of Steel's navigation warehouse, leading by the hand a slender stripling of a lad who carried a chart under his arm, and seemed to regard his companion with the respect due to a patron. They took their way along the same track precisely by which we have conducted you, and parted opposite Richardson's slop-shop. As the man (_it was Porteous, the king's pilot_) shook the lad by the hand, he ejaculated loud enough to be heard half down the street--"Mind, high water at a quarter past twelve; I won't wait a minute; be there by twelve!" Old Richardson was at this moment busied about his accounts, and too intent on his occupation to perceive that anybody had approached his counter, until the lad who had entered the shop drew his attention. He wanted some sea-clothing, and tendered a list of check shirts, duck trousers, &c. The articles were exhibited, examined, and approved; they were to be packed up and sent to the Dundee Arms by noon. The honest chapman recognized the signature at the foot of the order, and the youth took his departure. There was something in the lad's manners and appearance that would have induced an observation upon the choice he had made of a profession so full of danger and difficulty; and the slopseller was once or twice about to address his young customer on the subject, who however gave him no opportunity of entering upon it. The lad gone, the shopkeeper resumed his employment at his books, and, as he turned over leaf after leaf, accompanied the process with certain verbal remarks which a pen he held between his lips rendered somewhat indistinct; at length, laying down the implement and adjusting his spectacles, he pondered over the contents of the page, and after a pause exclaimed--"Ah! I do remember, about the same time in the morning too. Let me see--watch-coat--fearnought trousers--pair of boots--sword-belt--he was rather a different looking chap to the lad that came just now; a hard-faced, smart-built, bold dog he was--fine eye; snapped at me as I showed him the things--sent 'em to Water-lane, but never got the money! Early customers differ otherwise than in looks; this pays, that don't--but it can't be helped; if they are not all--let's see, what's the lads name," (and here he re-examined the order that had just been left with him) "ay--_Horatio Nelsons_, they are not all _Paul Joneses_"--And these two widely distinguished heroes, reader, were the customers between whom old Richardson drew a comparison[16]. Nelson, and the modern navy, and Napier, and ship-building, and discipline, and improvement, were the changes rung for some time, until at last somebody adverted to a peculiarity of the Jack Tar which may be discussed under the title of TAR AND FEATHERS. [Illustration] The sailor must have his joke in defiance of danger and death. When Commodore Anson took Panama in 1742, his men clothed themselves over their jackets and trousers in all the gay apparel they could collect. They did the same at Capua under Nelson; and the hero, elevated on a cask in the grand square, and surrounded by motley groups of masquerading tars, drank rich wine out of a golden goblet to the toast of "Better times to us." In 1805, the brave Yeo, then a lieutenant of the Loire frigate, with a mere handful of men, stormed the heavy fort of El Muros, near Finisterre, and carried it at noon-day. Having destroyed the fortification and sent off the stores, the seamen arrayed themselves in the immense Spanish grenadiers' bear skin caps and accoutrements, and all black and dirty with their labour, rowed off in this state to the ship, to the great amusement of Captain Maitland and the hearty approval of their shipmates. Many other anecdotes of a similar kind might be related; and now it appears, by recent accounts from China, that Jack is still pursuing his old game; for it is related that at the destruction of several war-junks in the neighbourhood of Canton, the English seamen arrayed themselves in the spoils of the enemy, and figured away in mandarin caps and tunics, and the curly-toed shoes of the Chinamen; nor was the essential tail wanted; for many of the bodies were divested of this ornament, which Jack being in a "cue" for humour, suspended at his own back, occasionally raising it in a coil, and offering to take a messmate in tow by it. We did not break up our little Naval Board without mentioning impressment, and a thing called the CAT; the word was no sooner out, than it operated like the morning-gun in "The Critic," and off went the following:-- AN A_CAT_ALECTIC MONODY! A _cat_ I sing, of famous memory, Though _cat_achrestical my song may be; In a small garden _cat_acomb she lies, And _cat_aclysms fill her comrades' eyes; Borne on the air, the _cat_acoustic song Swells with her virtues' _cat_alogue along; No _cat_aplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed _cat_aracts of tears Once loud and strong her _cat_echist-like voice It dwindled to a _cat_call's squeaking noise; Most _cat_egorical her virtues shone, By _cat_enation join'd each one to one;-- But a vile _cat_chpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like _cat_ling's cut, her strength disabled quite; Her _cat_erwauling pierced the heavy air, As _cat_aphracts their arms through legions bear; 'Tis vain! as _cat_erpillars drag away Their lengths, like _cat_tle after busy day, She ling'ring died, nor left in kit _kat_ the Embodyment of this _cat_astrophe.--V. D. L. "A play on words," said Mr. Cavil, (who happened to be our guest on this occasion), "a play on words, sir, is a pretty thing in its way; and I'm perfectly well aware that the public expect you to be jocular (as if there were nothing cheerful in seriousness). I know, too, that it's quite impossible to please everybody. But still, sir--still I think a little gravity now and then, eh?--a little gravity. I don't conceive that you give your attention sufficiently to science. Something scientific now--" Mr. Cavil was not allowed to conclude; we had anticipated his want; we had already turned our thoughts that way, and could fortunately plume ourselves upon the presence of one of the _illustrissimi_ of science, who forthwith illumined our humble vehicle by a transcendent and exclusive report of the THIRD MEETING OF THE BRIGHT-ISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING. _Section A.--Mathematical and Physical Science._ _President_--Prof. Cycloyd. _Vice-Presidents_--Dr. Spectrum & Major Fork. "ON AN EXPERIMENT OF INTERFERENCE." By Inspector Jones. The author stated, that one night he had observed a gentleman employed in experimenting upon the tintinnabular powers of bells, as produced by voltaic action communicated through copper wires; the end of the wire being conducted into the open air, and the point defended by a brass knob. Feeling interested in the prosecution of this experiment, the author immediately proceeded to the spot to make inquiries into its success; but when within two paces of the experimentalist, he had suddenly received so severe a shock that he was stunned for the moment. When he recovered from its effects, the gentleman was gone. This he particularly regretted, as he much wished to have discovered the power which had produced the shock that prostrated him; but as he had observed another gentleman a short distance behind him, he supposes that he, being an assistant of the experimentalist, was engaged in generating the galvanic fluid, which, passing from him to the one in connexion with the brass knob, (from thence to be communicated to the bell through the wire,) had produced the shock described--the author's body intercepting its flow, and thus being in a state of interference. "A COMPARISON BETWEEN THE RESULTS GIVEN BY RAIN-GAUGES AND KNOWN FACTS WITH REGARD TO LACHRYMATOSE PRECIPITATIONS." By Dr. Daw. The object of this paper was, to point out the connexion which exists between the quantities of rain received on horizontal surfaces, at _different heights_ above the ground, and the quantity of lachrymal vapour condensed into tears, also at different heights; and showing that, in both cases, the less the elevation the greater were the quantities. Thus, a rain-gauge, four feet from the ground, will intercept less than one on the ground; and a child of _four_ feet high will produce less than one _two_ feet high. "On the Expression of Unknown Quantities." By Prof. Muddelwitz. A method of expressing unknown quantities by known formulæ has long been a desideratum in mathematical science. This process the author stated he had discovered; for that the fractions of coefficient indices, when used to express the powers of differential equations, are always capable of being solved into pure algebraic roots. Thus, if in an infinitesimal series, in which p, o, o2--t--t2 are unknown given quantities, a, a2, and e, known, and the value to be limited, the equation stands as follows:-- 1. a x - a2 x p o t2 = t, o, e. 2. a x = t o e + a - p o t2 3. x = 2[sqrt](a - p o t2 + a2 - t o e) Thus the generalization of the equation of x, to the nth degree, gives its fraction in the form of an algebraic root. [To some readers the above demonstrations may seem rather obscure; but as the late Dr. Dundertop, in his treatise on the _Perspicuous_, clearly explains--"Ephpnxmqzomubh grudcnkrl, hqmpt on kronswt."] * * * * * We were all thrown into a state of such intense dumbness, such complete torpor, by the profundity of these scientific researches, that everybody tacitly admitted the appropriateness of the next subject; it was a case of still-life which met our startled eye the other evening, in the form of a pair of RUM CORKS IN STOUT BOTTLES. [Illustration] On our table stood, not one, but two "black bottles," two bottles that had held "Cork stout"--two we saw without seeing double. The corks had already been drawn, but upon them were two faces distinctly visible, which we resolved to draw likewise; and as the pencil wound itself about, we seemed to hear the following dialogue, in a sort of screw-like tone:-- "Arrah, Paddy now, and where are you from?" "Sure I'm from Cork." "Cork is it? fait den it's from Cork I am meself." [Illustration] * * * * * "Not such terrifying images, sir," said a nervous visitor, who trembled like Keeley in the old drama of the _Bottle Imp_, "not such terrifying images as that family of phantoms, that assemblage of the blues, which you conjured up in your last number. You might well call them "frights." I'm sure I've felt all over like the Derbyshire turnpike-man ever since; but I'm not at all afraid of those two bottle conjurors there." The allusion to this mysterious Derbyshire pike-man produced inquiry, and we were all forthwith reminded by our agitated companion, of a midnight scene-- A HIGHWAY ADVENTURE which was lately recorded in the public papers. It appears that when Van Amburgh travels, the large elephant goes on foot in the night, attended by four East Indians, men of negro complexions, in white dresses,--three of them riding on the elephant's back, and one on his tusks. One night as they were passing over Worksop forest, the party arrived at a toll-bar that was closed. The call "Gate" was raised, and out came the toll-keeper in his nightcap. Now it is suspected that this unfortunate individual had been long anticipating the coming of a gentleman in black, whose name is never mentioned to ears polite; for observing the monstrous and unlooked-for spectacle that then presented itself to his drowsy eyes, he, instead of opening the gate, was so terrified, that he ran back into the house, exclaiming in frantic tones, "_He's come at last!_" [Illustration] "Frightened at an elephant," cried Mr. Cavil, with a profusion of pishes! "At an elephant merely! I wonder if he ever saw a young lady--young ladies such as I have seen! I was never afraid of a woman while she wore her hair turned up, powdered, pomatumed, and frizzed like my mother's and grandmother's; but only imagine the terror of a sensitive mortal on encountering a specimen of the fashions of the present day; on meeting a sample of the feminine gender, who, not satisfied with milliner's 'whiskers,' must exhibit to the affrighted gazer a face 'BEARDED LIKE THE PARD.' Frightened at an elephant! Bless his five wits!--if he were only to come to London!" [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 16: The reader may use his own judgment as to the chronological accuracy of the foregoing tale. It is a fact that Jones and Nelson were both equipped by the same person, Richardson, and that the king's pilot took Horatio down to Wapping for that purpose.] SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MRS. SARAH TODDLES! BY SAM SLY. It is customary with the romancists and novelists of the day to track their heroes and heroines to some mysterious origin, for which purpose they either draw them from the foot of the gallows, or the precincts of the palace, and the jail returns are ransacked, and the old Court Guides dissected, for suitable titles and localities. Thus, whilst one will unkennel his favourites from workhouses, and obscure holes and corners, another finds his pet in the queen's best bed-room, or sleeping in state in a golden cradle. It is lucky for us we are not obliged to run to either extreme. Sarah Toddles' life lies in a nutshell. And here again we cannot help expressing our satisfaction, that we should be more fortunate than those who have to beat about the hedge, and make long speeches, and fill volumes in hazarding and conjecturing respecting nurses and birth-places. There is nothing at all remarkable about the dawning of Sarah; it was the most simple, natural, straight-forward, and legitimate birth imaginable: there was neither ringing of bells, nor flourishing of trumpets. Mrs. James was the nurse, Mrs. Sarah Gunn the mother, and Mr. Timothy Gunn the father. He was a gingerbread-baker, and lived at Bow--Mile-end Bow--and kept a shop not far from the bridge, and baked "Banburys" as well as "parliament" for the fair. Over the bow-window of this shop, and a little to the left, Sarah first saw daylight, and heard Bow bells--not at that interesting moment, because we have already said the elements were quiet. Sarah was an only child, the gun never went off but once--at least Sarah was the only "living shot." Sarah--our Sally--was born on the same day as the Duke of Wellington, but she could not help that. It seemed a little curious, and somewhat presumptuous; and her mother, had she anticipated such a result, would no doubt have avoided giving any offence, by forwarding or retarding the business, but she had no friend at court. And, after all, it is doubtful which is most honoured by the fact, his Grace or Sarah Toddles. But such is the course of things. Mrs. Gunn was soon off the stocks; she was up and stirring; and Sarah, with unheard of rapidity, got out of the nurse's arms, and from pap to pudding, and pudding to pork; and soon found out the use of her eyes and feet, and "toddled" into the shop, and tip-toed to the top of the counter, and fingered the "Banburys," and licked the "parliament," and dabbled in the treacle, and painted her face with it, and was shaken and smacked, and all that sort of thing. She became at last "quite a girl," and would run over the bridge, and round the church-yard, and up "Mile-end," and down Old Ford, and through Bow fields, and Stepney church-yard, and all about, till Mrs. Gunn was "frightened out of her wits," and determined to send her to school. Now Bow church was not then as it is at present. In the olden times, or when Sarah was young, there was a market held close in front of it, and over this market was a school, and a Mr. Brown was the master; and here Sarah was first led into the mystery of letters, and got through "Vyse's New London Spelling Book," and that's all (for her progress, like her genius and her stature, was small); so after spoiling many copy-books and green bags, and wearing out many pattens in trotting from the shop to the school, she was ultimately relieved from her studies and her troubles by being taken away. This was good news for Sarah, "for now she should do as she liked, and have such bits of fun at Bow fair, without being bothered to get her lessons in the morning before she went, when half the day was gone; and wouldn't she though have some rare games in Stepney church-yard, and look at the tombstones and the fish in the ring! and wouldn't she often go to the World's-end tea-gardens, and to Fairlop fair, and Epping forest to get blackberries! She just would then." And she just did then; and this was the sunny spot of her life. _Now_ her sun may be said to have gradually declined; she was no longer a free agent. She was told to "_think_ and mind what she was about," and was kept at home, and enlisted in domestic services (for her parents had no other housemaid), and also assisted in baking and minding the shop. Thus days rolled on; and Sarah at last became a woman--not a very tall one it is true, but still a woman--little and good, "short and sweet." Sarah was thrice married. Her first husband was a Mr. Lightfoot, her second a Mr. Heavisides, and her third, and last, Mr. Toddles--Thomas Toddles. With the first two we have nothing to do, they were dead and buried before we were thought of, and we never make a point of enlarging about parties where we are not asked to the funeral, but we may merely remark for the benefit of the curious, that Sarah Toddles chose _them_ for no particular virtue or accomplishment, but merely for their size; they all stood _four feet three_ in their shoes, all were timid men, and all died childless. There was nothing at all wonderful about either of these courtships or weddings, all was "fair and above-board;" no rope ladders, no moonlight madness, no Gretna Green trips, no bribings, no hole-and-corner works, no skulking behind kitchen doors or tombstones, or winkings or blinkings in church, no lies, no sighs, no dyings for love and that trumpery, nothing of the sort. Mr. Gunn consented, Mrs. Gunn consented, Sarah consented, and they all consented; could anything be fairer? and what's the use of writing a volume upon it, as many of our contemporaries might? But, perhaps, we may be allowed to say a word or two on Mrs. Toddles' last engagement, since at his death we were asked to the funeral. As a baker, and doing a great deal of business for the fairs, Mr. Gunn required assistance, and he found a faithful and honest servant in Thomas Toddles. Mrs. Heavisides--our Sally--would often be found in the bakehouse helping her father and Thomas in "setting sponge," as it is termed, and in moulding and shaping buns and Banburys. Could anything be more natural than that words and looks should be exchanged on these occasions between her and Thomas, bordering upon the weather and the heat of the oven, and that this warmth should produce congenial thoughts and sentiments? It did so; for Thomas, though naturally timid, had all the arts or nature of an experienced lover. He would run from Buns to Banburys, and from Banburys to Bachelors, and from Bachelors to Bow Bells, and from Bow Bells to Bow Church, and from the Church to the Altar; he would then not forget to talk about rings, "and thought he knew of one just about her size"--here the oven would burn--"and would she allow him to try one." He would then steal a little nearer, and adopt a few innocent liberties, such as flirting a little flour in her face with his thumb and finger, then wipe it off afterwards with the corner of his apron, and, as a climax, "kiss the place to make it well," my Toddles! It is not to be wondered at, that these things were a "decided hit," as the managers have it, and that they should have their full effect, by causing Bow Bells very soon to ring to the honour and happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Toddles. But all that lives must fade, and Mrs. Toddles' troubles now came thick upon her. First, her mother died, soon after, her father, who bequeathed all his "Banburys," goods, and chattels to her and her husband; and within a very few months Thomas died also. He was unusually busy one night in preparing for Bow fair, where he kept a stall, and over-exerting himself, caught a cold, was taken to bed, slept sweetly, but over-slept himself, and saw Sarah Toddles no more. Soon after, Mrs. T. wound up the business, sold off her stock and interest, and purchased a small annuity. In order to fill up her time, and in some measure to obliterate the past, she volunteered her services in one or two tract and Dorcas societies, where she assists in the making up of those very small articles which she was once in her longings led to suppose might fill her own baskets. A great deal of absurdity has gone forth at her expense amongst cads and omnibus drivers, who would not wait even five or ten minutes for her, when at the furthest she was never more than a quarter of an hour behind time, and how few know the cause of all this! Some have attributed it to an over-solicitude in her toilet, some to this thing and some to that, some to the putting on of those little black stockings, and some to the tying of the velvet shoes; when, if the truth must be known, it is--_Mrs. Sarah Toddles has corns_. Some little reminiscence of Mr. Toddles may be required. In height he was about four feet three. His clothes were much too large for him, coming over his knuckles, and over his shoes, with a skirt nearly touching the ground. Moreover he had a monstrous hat, swelling at the crown, very much boated before and behind, a large mouth, and large eyes. It was curious to see this little couple trotting up Mile-end road towards Whitechapel on a Saturday night, he first, and she after, for a cheap market--he carrying a basket and she a bag, which they would fill either from the shops or from the stalls by the roadside; but before returning, take care to call in at the Blind Beggar for a drop of "summat short," "but strictly medicinally." That very shawl at the back of Mrs. Toddles, and the large parasol, or small umbrella, were presents from Mr. T. one Bow-fair day; she keeps them and wears them in respect to his memory, and will continue to do so through all the changes of fashion. Those stockings were knitted by Miss Toddles, and those velvet shoes made by Timothy Toddles, her dear husband's brother and sister; in short, she is enveloped and surrounded with gifts from top to toe. The arm-chair was a relic of her mother's, the footstool was her father's, the bottle Lightfoot's, and the glass Heavisides', and the table Toddles', her last dear Toddles; the carpet was her cousin's, and the urn her uncle's. But time, like Sarah, is toddling on; let us hope that she may meet with more civility, and that her end may be peaceful. If we are invited to the funeral, we shall look after her epitaph. *** _We beg to state, that though assured of the great respectability of our correspondent, we do not personalty vouch for the authenticity of this Memoir_.-ED. [Illustration: George Cruikshank. Breaking into the Strong room in the "Jewel Tower" and Removal of the Regalia, on the night of the Fire, Oct'r. 30. 1841 London Tilt & Bogue 86 Fleet Street.] THE FIRE AT THE TOWER OF LONDON. THE SCENE IN THE JEWEL TOWER--THE ARMOURY--THE BOWYER TOWER--LADY JANE GREY'S APARTMENT--THE TROPHIES. [Illustration: _The black portion of the plan shows the part which is burnt._ A Bowyer Tower. B Brick Tower. C Small Armoury. D Map Office. E White Tower. F Horse Armoury. G Powder Magazine. H Ordnance Office. I Bloody Tower. K Governor's Lodgings. L St. Peter's Church. M Jewel Tower. ] The Queen's loving subjects are divided into two parties--those who have, and those who have not, visited the Tower. The former have their recollections of the visit--the latter have their regrets for its postponement. And let this be a lesson to all procrastinative sight-seers, to see things while they are to be seen; for the Great--or, as it was somewhat oddly designated--the Small Armoury, is no longer among the visibles or the visitables. Association first conducts us to the _Jewel House_, the scene of Col. Blood's and of Mr. Swifte's doings. It is curious, that after 170 years the burglary (we were near saying the treason) should be repeated; and that Blood, the crown-stealer, should have been succeeded by Swifte, the crown-keeper. The soldier was favoured by King Charles, the civilian by Queen Victoria--the merry Master pardoned, the august Mistress approved. The stealer was rewarded with a pension, the keeper's recompense is--to come. Having the benefit of Mr. Swifte's acquaintance, we were indulged with a view of the Jewel-room. It is really a curious contrast! Light, security, and splendour, changed into darkness, desolation, and vacancy--the regal treasury become an empty sepulchre! The tokens and the instruments of the violence used--broken railings, hatchets, and crow-bars--scattered about, as if "the gallant Colonel" had but just absconded! It was a comfort to think that the imperial crown, instead of being battered to bits in his bag, was safe and whole in the Governor's cellar. We have endeavoured, in our plate, to give light and life to the Jewel-room, now so desolate. Not the light of six Argands, flashing down on diadem and sceptre, and--brightest of all--on the crown of our liege lady's yet brighter brow, irradiating the matchless sapphire, blue as an Italian sky--the mound of diamonds, numerous as its stars--and the priceless ruby of Edward and of Henry, multiplying their thousand prisms:--but, alas! the blink of one or two ten-to-the-pound tallows--sheepish-looking members of the "Kitchiner" tribe--glimmering on them, ghastly as dead men's eyes out of a plundered coffin. And for the _life_ of the scene? There stood the keeper himself, his wife at his side, partaking the peril; and the warders, whom he had summoned to the rescue. We cannot, however, portray the stifling heat and smoke; the clamour of the soldiers outside the closed portal, which the fires of the Armoury were striving to reach; nor the roar of the still-excluded flames, the clang of the pumps, the hissing of the water-pipes, the gathering feet and voices of the multitude. These are beyond the pencil. "The pressure from without" increased. Again the clamour rose high, and the furnace heat rose higher. But the keeper abided his time--the crow-bars were raised in a dozen hands awaiting his word. It was given! The first blow since the days of King Charles descended on the iron fence; and Queen Victoria's crown, safely deposited in its case, and sheltered therein from smoke and flame and the common gaze, was removed to the Governor's house. Orbs, diadems, and sceptres--dishes, flagons, and chalices--the services of court and of church, of altar and of banquet, were sent forth in the care of many a sturdy warder, gallant JOHN LUND being their leader. The huge baptismal font, soon to be called into use for the Prince of Wales, was last removed. The Jewel-room was as bare as if Blood the First had left nought behind him for Blood the Second. How must the spectators have gazed on the bright procession, as from window, and roof, and turret, the Armoury blazed out upon it! And how must the Colonel's ghost have wondered to behold his own meditated prey borne through that fiery midnight! The Jewel-room was now emptied. The agents of its _emptification_ quitted the peril--glad enough were they, we'll be sworn--and all was again solitude and silence. The Armoury, with its three burning floors, each 345 feet in length--their trophies of past, and provisions of future victory, wrapped in one flame, and flanked at either end by the Chapel and the Crown Jewel House--(Church and State in equal danger!)--deserve our description. That memorable night--so memorable, that, as the keeper's ancestor, Dean Swift, says of O'Rourke's feast, it will be remembered "By those who were there, And those who were not," is described in two words, FUSION AND CONFUSION. They tell their story. * * * * * Next in sublimity to the spectacle of the blazing pile, was the scene afterwards presented, when, as the fire lessened, and the smoke cleared off, the whole space within the walls of the enormous Armoury was opened to the straining eye--a sight of awe and wonder. Above was the "sky" of a November morn; and below, covering the immense sweep of the floor, heaps of fused metal, of dimensions scarcely to be credited, with bayonet-points bristling up everywhere, close-set and countless, like long blades of grass. Innumerable as the stand of small-arms had appeared, they now seemed, starting from the crushed mass, still more multitudinous; the space appeared larger; the scene of destruction more gigantic; and we thought of the moralizing fox walking beside the tree which had been thrown down by a tempest:--"This is truly a noble tree; I never thought it so great while standing." After a day or two there was something ridiculous blended with the terror of the spectacle. The Waterloo guns uninjured--(those guns which had played upon the guards at Waterloo with shot, and which the guards in return had played upon with water in _loo_ of shot)--the enormous pieces of artillery; the mighty anchor; the myriad bayonet-points; the masses of metal, dull or shining; the broken columns; the smouldering rubbish; were strangely contrasted with the forms of gaily-attired ladies, courageously clambering over hot heaps, creeping through apparently unapproachable avenues, and raking among the ashes for relics--gun-flints, green, blue, or white, and picturesque bits of metal. Outside this building, in various directions, the most terrific visible symptom of the intense burning that had made night hideous, were the streams of molten lead from surrounding roofs; the liquid metal, as it fell upon the flagstones, having splashed up and sprinkled the walls to the height of two or three feet. [Illustration: BOWYER OR CLARENCE TOWER.] * * * * * _Order_ has at length succeeded to the Confusion, and _orders_ on a large scale have followed the Fusion. The Armoury will be rebuilt and refurnished. The edifice, it is to be hoped, will be more in harmony with the antique character of the surrounding scene, and the new arms not less susceptible of beautiful arrangement for being better adapted to practical uses than the old. Thus far the nation will gain by its misfortune; nor will the loss, even in a pecuniary sense, be equal to a fourth of the first estimate. Every evil has been exaggerated--except the danger. That scarcely admitted of exaggeration. [Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE SMALL ARMOURY--CAMPERDOWN ANCHOR, WATERLOO GUNS, &C.] Our fellow antiquaries, and not less (though for other reasons) our country-cousins everywhere, will join with us, not in lamenting the Loss, but in rejoicing at the Escape. The plan which heads this article, will enable them to understand it. Of the antiquities of the Tower, little or nothing has suffered. All that has stood for centuries, in fact, still stands there. That of which the memory is imperishable has not perished. The buildings which are destroyed, are--the Armoury, which was modern; the upper part of the Bowyer or Clarence Tower, which was also modern. The antique remains are figured on the preceding page. This tower was three stories high. The large square window below, next the ladder, is that of the chamber in which Clarence is supposed to have been murdered. In the apartment immediately over this the fire commenced. Above the belt, in the centre, all was modern. It will be seen by the Plan that this tower is exactly in the centre of the Small Armoury, at the back. The Brick Tower is of considerable antiquity, and the interior of this has been wofully damaged, so that the apartment in which the gentle Lady Jane Grey was confined, wears now a more forlorn and ruinous aspect than the slow hand of Time would have invested it with in additional centuries. Still, even here, what is gone is but the wood-work, the outward coating, the modern accessories or accumulations of the scene; the Destroyer has neither eaten through the old walls, nor undermined the deep and enduring foundations of any portion of the Old Fortress. As for the Trophies that are gone, they are things which this nation, more perhaps than any other, can afford to surrender without a sigh. If "Britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along her steep," neither does she need tokens of her triumphant march over the mountain-wave in days gone by. Besides, as schoolboys say of birds'-eggs taken prisoners, or apples captured in orchards, "there's plenty more where these came from." It would have been something, to be sure, to have saved from the Consumer a thing so simple as the old wheel of the "Victory;" because it was no part of the vulgar spoil of war, no commonplace implement of devastation wrested from an enemy, but a precious relic associated with the dying-hour of England's favourite hero, and a symbol, in its very form, of the eternity of his fame. It is gone; but the list of losses is not half so long as fear made it; and among the trophies yet remaining, are numbers as indestructible as the great anchor taken at Camperdown, which, the day after the fire, was seen rearing its giant bulk amidst the multitude of bristling points, and masses of fused metal. [Illustration: LADY JANE GREY'S ROOM IN THE BRICK TOWER.] THE BLAZING ARMOURY--THE RAMPARTS--A CONTRAST. The lamps of the City burn dull and dead, The wintry raindrops fall, And thick mists, borne from the River's bed, Round London's hoary Tower are spread, O'erhanging, like a pall. When, suddenly--look! a red light creeps Up from the Tower on high! One shriek of "fire!"--and lo! it sweeps Through yon vast Armoury. Up, up it springs, on giant wings, That still expand and soar; Can you not hear, through outcries loud, The beaten drum, and the tramp of the crowd, The mighty furnace roar! Then trophy, and relic, and ancient spoil, One molten mass went down, And Ruin had stretch'd his red hand out To seize the sacred Crown. And faces, that else were white with fear, Gleam'd in the woful light; While perils that distant seem'd, drew near, And ghastlier grew the night. Dread rumour, outstripping the winged flame, Still spoke of powder stored, Ere deep in the moat 'twas safely roll'd, Sparing the walls of that White Tower old, Rich memory's darkest hoard. And all the while the threaten'd pile Rang with a mingled roar, And hurried feet in danger meet, And dread struck more and more. Yet all night there, within the bound Of that fortress black and stern, The appointed guard went stilly round, And on the customary ground The Soldier took his turn. High overhead the lurid blaze Afar in fright was seen, Yet there, unmoved, the Sentry paced Each time-worn tower between. Just o'er him broke the flash and smoke, Around was wild uproar; But there he trod, as there had trod His fellow the night before. Amidst the deep terrific swell By myriad noises made, An echo from the ramparts fell-- The measured tread of the Sentinel In solitude and shade. And to and fro, from hour to hour, His deep slow step was heard, Nor could the firemen there have pass'd Without the secret word. Thus, silent 'midst a tumult wild; Thus, lonely 'midst a throng; Thus, bent his usual watch to keep, As though the Fortress were asleep, Shadow'd in drear and dead midnight, Yet neighbour'd by that living light, The Sentry paced along! L. B. MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE. The month "in which Englishmen hang and drown themselves," has this year been signalised by first appearances;--the Heir-Apparent, Heaven bless him! having chosen to arrive in the midst of the bell-ringing and jollity of Lord Mayor's Day. Though a less glorious, scarcely a less welcome one--to all play-goers, artists, honest subjects "moved by concord of sweet sounds," and poets clinging to recollections of departed Genius--has been the entrance of "Norma" at Covent Garden. The artist has well caught her attitude on that evening as she advanced to take her place before her altar: as yet silent. We cannot keep pace with him, or write down a twentieth of the cheers of welcome that burst from heart and hand. Rarely have plaudits been so well merited! What the Druidess may or may not do for the musical drama in England, let her own oracles expound. We are not prophets, but recorders; and while she is taking care for the future, we have but to say a word or two touching the past career of MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE. As to the date of her birth-day, that concerns not us. We are reserved when ladies are in the case; and are contented to remind the public that she is the younger daughter of Mr. Charles Kemble--that, to the dramatic heritage derived from him, she adds a right to the musician's gift, being child of one who, some years since, made the name of De Camp famous, as belonging to one of the most fascinating stage-singers of the time. Every circumstance, therefore, of position and education combined to develop the talents which nature had given her. The air she breathed was a stimulus to perpetuate the most classical traditions of music and the drama. To this was added consciousness of the honourable position always maintained by her family, and their liberal general cultivation--exciting her to do her part also, and to become, not merely a voice--not merely a _gesture_ personified, but an artist: that is, a gifted intelligence, to whom voice and gesture serve but as means of expressing its "fancies chaste and noble," and its elevated conceptions. Miss Kemble has trained herself for her profession, with that thorough-going industry and ardour, without which there are no Siddonses, no Pastas, no Malibrans. Like the second distinguished woman named, her voice, though amply sufficient for every theatrical purpose, may not originally have been a _willing_ one. Nothing, strange to say, has been so fatal to the attainment of the highest musical excellence, as too great a facility and richness of organ. By it Catalani was led astray--by it sundry contemporary warblers----but "comparisons are odious." We are discreet as well as reserved. Enough, that, under Signor Bordogni of Paris, Miss Kemble went through all that severe course of study, to which too few of her countrywomen will subject themselves. She was first heard in London in 1835, where she sang at a few concerts. Though then weighed down by a consciousness of power, with means as yet inadequate for its utterance, though restrained by an excess of timidity, it was even then to be seen that a great dramatic artist was there. We remember two words from the great duet in "Semiramide," which we heard her sing with Tamburini--merely an exulting "_O gioja_!"--but they said enough to make us sure of what would come. At the end of that season, after appearing at the York Festival, Miss Kemble was heard of no more in England. But ere long, rumours came from Germany of an English lady turning wise heads by her dramatic truth and energy of feeling; and late in the autumn of the year 1838, we were told that another of the Kembles had entered her proper arena, the stage--at no less distinguished a place than the Teatro della Scala, Milan. [Illustration: Adelaide Kemble _In the Character of_ NORMA. London. Tilt & Bogue, 86, Fleet Street.] From that time, in spite of lets and hindrances innumerable, which too generally beset the English gentlewoman undertaking a foreign artistic career, Miss Kemble has slowly and steadily advanced towards her present high position. At Venice she was applauded to the echo for her execution of Pasta's grand _cavatina_ in "_Niobe_,"--at Mantua made a _furore_, as an actress who was "_simpatica_" (there is a good deal in the word, as all Italians know); later still at the Teatro San Carlo, Naples, rising to such a height of popularity, that upon her contracting an engagement for Palermo, Barbaja, "_le bourru bienfaisant_" broke the contract, and paid the forfeit to retain her. Her chief parts have been in the operas of "_Lucia di Lammermoor_," "_Norma_," "_Elena da Feltre_," "_Gemma di Vergy_," "_La Sonnambula_," and "_Beatrice di Tenda_." But lest the English fancy that their favourite is but a _signora_ in disguise, be it known to them that the subject of our notice is as fine a linguist in music as the most universal of her contemporaries. We have heard her applauded to the echo by the Rhinelanders for her singing of Schubert and Beethoven:--We believe that she possesses a _cahier_ of French romances, which she can _say_ as well as sing, with _finesse_ enough to charm the fastidious ears of the Panserons and Adams who compose such dainty ware; and we know that she can do worthy homage--to Handel. The oratorio-goers may look for _the_ Miriam in her, and will not be disappointed. What more remains?--save to record, that after having made her mature talent heard at the never-to-be-forgotten Polish _matinée_ at Stafford House, and at a private concert, Miss Kemble made a second German journey this autumn, as we said, to the infinite delight of the Rhinelanders, who are not easy to please;--and lastly, to give the second of this month as the date of her commencing a career among her own countrymen, which, for Art's sake, as well as her own, we fervently hope will be as long as it _must_ be brilliant. R. O. D. What more remains? By way of postscript to our dull prose, the world will, we think, be glad of half-a-dozen verses from a most accomplished pen (we would not for the world reveal its owner!) dropped by mistake in an _Omnibus_, on the morning after Miss Kemble's first appearance. 'Twas not Pasta--'twas not e'en Thy greater name, That in charms of voice and mien To fancy came-- As thy wild impassioned lays Enthralled our ears, And the eyes that fain would gaze Were blind with tears! Whence the ray, that could impart Each subtle trace That defines the mother's heart, The matron's grace? Whence the throes of jealousy That struggling rise, Big with mimic agony To those young eyes? Love and Joy, thy gentle brow In turn caressing; Hate, with scorn or vengeance, now Its lines possessing: On the classic pedestal Achieved by thee, Firm, and never failing, shall Thy footing be! And the brightness that will still Thy name enshrine, TAKE THOU AS THE BOON OF GOD TO THEE AND THINE! JACK GAY, ABROAD AND AT HOME. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. Who that had once met Jack Gay at dinner, where'er the feast of venison and the flow of port prevailed, ever forgot him! What lady, the luckiest of her sex, ever experienced his "delicate attentions" at a quiet evening party, a quiet concert, or a quiet dance, without speaking of him from that moment, not as the most charming of acquaintances, but as a very old friend--without feeling quite sure that she had known him all her life, though she had never seen him but that once? What spirits he had! Other men had their jovial moods, but Jack was always jovial. To be lively by fits and starts, to be delightful when the humour sets in, to emulate the fair exquisite of Pope, "And make a lover happy--_for a whim_--" is within anybody's reach. But Jack had no fits and starts; the humour flowed in one unebbing course, and his whim consisted in making everybody as happy as he was at all seasons. His joviality never depended upon the excellence of a dinner, the choice of wines, or any accident of the hour. His high spirits and invariable urbanity were wholly independent of the arrangements of the table, the selection of the guests, and the topics of conversation. He discovered pleasant things to hearken to, and found delightful themes to chat upon, even during the dreary twenty minutes before dinner. Yes, even _that_ was a lively time to Jack. Whenever he went out it was to enjoy a pleasant evening, and he enjoyed it. The fish was spoil'd, the soup was cold, The meat was broil'd, the jokes were old, The tarts were dumps, the wine not cool, The guests were pumps, the host a fool-- but for all this Jack cared about as much as a flying-fish cares for a shower of rain. No combination of ill omens and perverse accidents ever proved a damper to him. He is invited to meet (say) Johnson and Burke, and is greeted, on his entrance, with the well-known tidings that Johnson and Burke "couldn't come." Does Jack heave one sigh in compliment to the illustrious absentees, and in depreciation of the company who _have_ assembled? Not he. No momentary shade of disappointment dims his smiling face. He seems as delighted to meet the little parlour-full of dull people, as though the room were crammed with Crichtons. He has the honour of being presented to little Miss Somebody, from the country, who seems shy; and he takes the same pains to show his pleasure in the introduction, and to tempt the timid stranger to talk, that he would have exerted in an effort to interest Mrs. Siddons. He sits next to a solemn ignoramus, who is facetious in expounding the humours of Squire Bog, his neighbour, or didactic in developing the character of Dogsby the great patriot in his parish; and Jack listens as complacently as though his ear were being regaled with new-born bonmots of Sheridan's, or anecdotes of the Earl of Chatham. Jack, like some statesmen, was born to be out; and to him, as to some other statesmen, all parties were the same. The only preference he ever seemed to entertain was for the particular party that chanced at the particular moment to rejoice in his presence. He enjoyed everything that happened. Leigh Hunt, describing a servant-maid "at the play," observes, that every occurrence of the evening adds to her felicity--for she likes even the waiting between the acts, which is tiresome to others. So with Jack at a party. He enjoyed some dislocated experiments on the harp, by an astonishing child, aged only fifteen; and was the sole person in the room who encored with _sincerity_ that little prodigy's convulsive edition of "Bid me discourse." He listened with laudable gravity to Master Henry's recitation of "Rolla's Address," and suggested the passages in which John Kemble was rather too closely followed. He enjoyed the glasses of warm wine handed round between the songs; he liked the long flat pauses, "when nobody said nothing to his neighbour;" and he liked the sudden burst of gabble in which, at the termination of the pause, as if by preconcerted agreement, every creature eagerly joined. He liked the persons he had never met before, and those whom he was in the habit of meeting just seven times a week. He admired the piano that was always out of tune, and the lady who, kindly consenting to play, was always out of temper. He thought the persons to whom he had not been introduced very agreeable, and all the rest extremely entertaining. He was delighted with his evening, whether it exploded in a grand supper, or went-off, flash-in-the-pan fashion, with a sandwich. He never bottled up his best things, to uncork them in a more brilliant company the next night; he was never dull because he was expected to shine, and never, by laborious efforts to shine, succeeded in showing that dulness was his forte. He pleased everybody because he was pleased himself; and he was himself pleased, because he could not help it. Many queer-looking young men sang better, but nobody sang with such promptness and good taste; many awkward gawkies danced with more exactness and care, but nobody danced so easily to himself or so acceptably to his partner; many handsome dashing fellows were more showy and imposing in their manners, but none produced the agreeable effect that followed a few words of his, or one of his joyous laughs--nay even a kind and sprightly glance. The elaborate, and long meditated impromptu of the reputed wit fell still-born, while one of Jack's unstudied gay-hearted sallies burst like a rocket, and showered sparkles over the room. Everybody went away convinced that there was one human being in the world whose oasis of life had no surrounding desert. Jack lived but for enjoyment. The links of the chain that bound him to existence, were of pure gold--there was no rough iron clanking between. He seemed sent into the world to show how many may be amused, cheered, comforted, by one light heart. That heart appeared to tell him, that where his fellow-creatures were, it was impossible to be dull; and the spirit of this assurance prevailed in all he said and did; for if he staid till the last half dozen dropped off, he was just as fresh and jocund as when the evening began. He never knew what it was to be tired, and as the hospitable door was at last closed upon him, you heard him go laughing away down the steps. Upon his tomb indeed might be written a paraphrase of the epitaph so gloriously earned by his illustrious namesake:-- So that the merry and the wise might say, Pressing their jolly bosoms, "Here _laughs_ Gay!" But did anybody, who may happen to see this page, ever see the aforesaid Jack at home?--at high-noon, or in the evening when _preparing to go out_! Behold him on the eve of departure--just going--about to plunge, at the appointed moment, into the revelries of a brilliant circle, where, if he were not, a score of sweet voices would fall to murmuring "I wish he were here!" For the admiration, the envy, the cordial liking which surely await him there, you would now be apt to substitute commiseration, regret--a bit of friendly advice to him to stop at home, and a pull at the bell for pen-and-ink that he might write an excuse. The truth is, that Jack was a morbid, irresolute, wayward, cross-grained chap. He was kind-hearted in the main, and even generous; but his temper was often sullen, and his spirit often cynical. Catch him on a winter's afternoon, half an hour before he dressed for dinner! You would think him twenty years older, and five bottle-noses uglier. You would conclude that he was going to dine with Diogenes in his tub, or to become a partaker of a skeleton-feast in Surgeons'-hall. The last time we ever saw Jack out of company, he was in such a mood as we have hinted at. It was a November afternoon between five and six--there was no light in the room--but by the melancholy gleam of a low fire, he was to be seen seated on a music-stool with his feet on the fender, his elbows on his knees, his head resting upon his hands, and his eyes listlessly wandering over the dull coals in search of the picturesque. "Come in!" growled the voice of the Charmer. "Can you grope your way? Dreary rooms these--and lights make 'em worse." Then without moving his seat to give us a share of the fire, he applied the poker to the cinders, not to kindle a blaze and throw a light upon the gloom, but evidently to put out any little stray flame that might happen to be lingering there. There was just light enough to show that his face wore an air of profound sadness and despondency. To a serious inquiry as to the cause--if any thing had happened. "Yes," murmured the Fascinator, with an amiable scowl, "the weather has happened, November has happened, and dinner will happen in another hour. Here's a night to go three miles for a slice of saddle o' mutton! My luck! Cold and wet, isn't it?" continued the Irresistible, knocking cinder after cinder into the ashes; "I'm miserable enough at home, and so forsooth, I must dress and go out. Ugh! This is what they call having a pleasant life of it. I don't know what you may think, but I look upon an invitation to dinner as nothing less than an insult. Why should I be dragged out of my wretched nook here, without an appetite, and against my will? We call this a free country, where nobody's allowed to be miserable in his own way--where every man's a slave to ceremony--a victim to his own politeness, a martyr to civil notes. Here's my saddle o' mutton acquaintance, for example; I never hurt or offended the man in all my days, and yet I must go and dine with him. I'd rather go to a funeral.--Well if you've anything to say, out with it--for my hour's come. Now mind, before I ring this bell, I predict that there's no hot water, and that my boots are damp." The difference between Jack at six, and Jack at seven, was the difference between a clock down and a clock wound up--between a bird in the shell, and a bird on the wing--between a bowl of punch before, and after, the spirit is poured in,--it was the difference between Philip drunk and Philip sober (or the reverse if you will)--between a lord mayor in his plain blue-coat and kerseys, and a lord mayor in his state robes;--between Grimaldi at the side-scene waiting to go on, with that most melancholy shadow on his face which tradition has so touchingly painted, and Grimaldi on the stage, in view of the convulsed spectators, the illuminator of congregated dulness, the instantaneous disperser of the blues, the explorer of every crevice of the heart wherein care can lurk--an embodied grin. It was the difference, to speak more exactly still, between Sappho at her toilet, and Sappho at an evening mask. To see Jack when just beginning to prepare for a drop-in somewhere, late at night--between ten and twelve--was almost as good as seeing him when arrived there. The rash promise made, he always contrived to fulfil it--though it was often ten chances to one that he did not, and he appeared to keep his engagements by miracle. As the hour drew nigh, you would imagine that he had just received tidings of the dreadful loss of several relatives per railroad, or that half his income had been swallowed up in a mine, or forged exchequer-bills. It would be impossible to conjecture that his shrugs and sighs, peevish gestures and muttered execrations, were but the dark shadows of a brilliant "coming event"--that discontent and mortification were the forerunners of the gay Hours, and that bitter moroseness, limping and growling, announced the approach of the dancing Pleasures! So it was; for Jack at that moment, instead of hailing these dancing Pleasures by anticipation, and meeting them at least half-way, would gladly have ridden ten miles in any other direction. He could make himself tolerably comfortable anywhere, save at the place to which he was ruthlessly, imperiously bound--with anybody, save with the people who were anxiously waiting for a glimpse of his good-humoured visage. He was fully bent on going, in fact he felt that he must; yet he raised every obstacle that ill-temper could invent, knowing all the while that he should be obliged to surmount them. He would even allow his reluctance to stir, to prevail so far over the gentlemanly principle of his nature, as to question secretly within himself whether he _ought_ to go, while he entertained a suspicion that the people who had again invited him were not _quite_ prudent in giving so many expensive parties! He would catch hold of any rag of an acquaintance just then, to cover his loneliness, and to save him from utter solitude; to give him an excuse for procrastinating, and an opportunity of grumbling out his regrets at stripping from head to foot, not to go to bed, but to go _out_; at being doomed to shake off his quiet moping mood, and plunge head-foremost into festivity. And then, when the effort had been made, when the last obstacle had been overcome, when he was arrayed from top to toe, and could no longer complain of this thing not in readiness, and that thing mislaid, or the glove that split in drawing it on, or the cab that was not (_and never was_) on the stand when he wanted one, he would ask himself with a deep-drawn sigh the melancholy question: "Isn't it hard that a man _must_ go out, with a broken heart, to take an hour or two's jollification at this time of night!" Off went Jack Gay; and until four in the morning the merry Hours lagged far behind his joyous spirits. Hospitality put on his magic boots to run a race with him, and the bewitching eyes of Pleasure herself looked grave and sleepy compared with the glistening orbs of her votary! THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT. BY MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH. The noble King of Brentford Was old and very sick; He summoned his physicians To wait upon him quick; They stepped into their coaches, And brought their best physick. They crammed their gracious master With potion and with pill; They drenched him and they bled him: They could not cure his ill. "Go fetch," says he, "my lawyer, I'd better make my will." The monarch's royal mandate The lawyer did obey; The thought of six-and-eightpence Did make his heart full gay. "What is't," says he, "your majesty Would wish of me to-day?" "The doctors have belaboured me With potion and with pill; My hours of life are counted, O man of tape and quill! Sit down and mend a pen or two, I want to make my will. "O'er all the land of Brentford I'm lord, and eke of Kew; I've three per cents., and five per cents.; My debts are but a few; And to inherit after me I have but children two. "Prince Thomas is my eldest son, A sober prince is he, And from the day we breeched him Till now he's twenty-three, He never caused disquiet To his poor mama or me. "At school they never flogged him, At college, though not fast, Yet his little go and great go He creditably passed, And made his year's allowance For eighteen months to last. "He never owed a shilling, Went never drunk to bed; He has not two ideas Within his honest head;-- In all respects he differs From my second son, Prince Ned. "When Tom has half his income Laid by at the year's end, Poor Ned has ne'er a stiver That rightly he may spend; But spunges on a tradesman, Or borrows from a friend. "While Tom his legal studies Most soberly pursues, Poor Ned must pass his mornings A-dawdling with the muse; While Tom frequents his banker, Young Ned frequents the Jews. "Ned drives about in buggies, Tom sometimes takes a 'bus; Ah! cruel Fate, why made you My children differ thus? Why make of Tom a _dullard_, And Ned a _genius_?" "You'll cut him with a shilling," Exclaimed the man of writs;-- "I'll leave my wealth," said Brentford, "Sir Lawyer, as befits; And portion both their fortunes Unto their several wits." "Your Grace knows best," the lawyer said, "On your commands I wait." "Be silent, sir," says Brentford, "A plague upon your prate! Come, take your pens and paper, And write as I dictate." The will as Brentford spoke it Was writ, and signed, and closed; He bade the lawyer leave him, And turned him round and dozed; And next week in the churchyard The good old king reposed. Tom, dressed in crape and hat-band, Of mourners was the chief; In bitter self-upbraidings Poor Edward showed his grief; Tom hid his fat white countenance In his pocket-handkerchief. Ned's eyes were full of weeping, He faltered in his walk; Tom never shed a tear, But onwards he did stalk, As pompous, black, and solemn, As any catafalque. And when the bones of Brentford, That gentle king and just, With bell, and book, and candle, Were duly laid in dust, "Now, gentlemen," says Thomas, "Let business be discussed. "When late our sire beloved Was taken deadly ill, Sir Lawyer, you attended him (I mean to tax your bill); And as you signed and wrote it, I pr'ythee read the will." The lawyer wiped his spectacles, And drew the parchment out; And all the Brentford family Sate eager round about. Poor Ned was somewhat anxious, But Tom had ne'er a doubt. "My son, as I make ready To seek my last long home, Some cares I feel for Neddy, But none for thee, my Tom; Sobriety and order You ne'er departed from. "Ned hath a brilliant genius, And thou a plodding brain; On thee I think with pleasure, On him with doubt and pain." "You see, good Ned," says Thomas, "What he thought about us twain." "Tho' small was your allowance, You saved a little store, And those who save a little Shall get a plenty more;" As the lawyer read this compliment, Tom's eyes were running o'er. "The tortoise and the hare, Tom, Set out at each his pace; The hare it was the fleeter, The tortoise won the race; And since the world's beginning This ever was the case. "Ned's genius, blithe and singing, Steps gaily o'er the ground; As steadily you trudge it, He clears it with a bound; But dulness has stout legs, Tom, And wind that's wondrous sound. "O'er fruits and flowers alike, Tom, You pass with plodding feet; You heed not one nor t'other, But onwards go your beat: While Genius stops to loiter With all that he may meet; "And ever as he wanders Will have a pretext fine For sleeping in the morning, Or loitering to dine, Or dozing in the shade, Or basking in the shine. "Your little steady eyes, Tom, Though not so bright as those That restless round about him Your flashing genius throws, Are excellently suited To look before your nose. "Thank heaven then for the blinkers It placed before your eyes; The stupidest are steadiest, The witty are not wise; O bless your good stupidity, It is your dearest prize! "And though my lands are wide, And plenty is my gold, Still better gifts from nature, My Thomas, do you hold-- A brain that's thick and heavy, A heart that's dull and cold-- "Too dull to feel depression, Too hard to heed distress, Too cold to yield to passion, Or silly tenderness. March on; your road is open To wealth, Tom, and success. "Ned sinneth in extravagance, And you in greedy lust." ("I'faith," says Ned, "our father Is less polite than just.") "In you, son Tom, I've confidence, But Ned I cannot trust. "Wherefore my lease and copyholds, My lands and tenements, My parks, my farms, and orchards, My houses and my rents; My Dutch stock and my Spanish stock, My five and three per cents.; "I leave to you, my Thomas." ("What, all?" poor Edward said; "Well, well, I should have spent them, And Tom's a prudent head.") "I leave to you, my Thomas-- To you, IN TRUST for Ned." The wrath and consternation What poet e'er could trace, That at this fatal passage Came o'er Prince Tom his face; The wonder of the company, And honest Ned's amaze! "'Tis surely some mistake," Good-naturedly cries Ned; The lawyer answered gravely, "'Tis even as I said; 'Twas thus his gracious majesty Ordained on his death-bed. "See here, the will is witnessed, here's his autograph." "In truth our father's writing," Says Edward with a laugh; "But thou shalt not be a loser, Tom, We'll share it half-and-half." "Alas! my kind young gentleman, This sharing may not be; 'Tis written in the testament That Brentford spoke to me: 'I do forbid Prince Ned to give Prince Tom a halfpenny. "'He hath a store of money, But ne'er was known to lend it; He never helped his brother, The poor he ne'er befriended; He hath no need of property Who knows not how to spend it. "'Poor Edward knows but how to spend, And thrifty Tom to hoard; Let Thomas be the steward then, And Edward be the lord; And as the honest labourer Is worthy his reward, "'I pray Prince Ned, my second son, And my successor dear, To pay to his intendant Five hundred pounds a-year; And to think of his old father, And live and make good cheer." Such was old Brentford's honest testament. He did devise his moneys for the best, And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest. Prince Edward lived, and money made and spent; But his good sire was wrong, it is confessed, To say his son, young Thomas, never lent. He did; young Thomas lent at interest, And nobly took his twenty-five per cent. Long time the famous reign of Ned endured O'er Chiswick, Fulham, Brentford, Putney, Kew; But of extravagance he ne'er was cured. And when both died, as mortal men will do, 'Twas commonly reported that the steward Was a deuced deal the richer of the two. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER IX. When lawyer Brady was first taken into custody he seemed to treat the matter very lightly, for he relied greatly on his own sagacity in keeping his schemes from the knowledge of all except immediate confidants, who would, he trusted, render him every assistance for the purpose of dragging him through the difficulties in which he found himself involved. Amongst the most prominent of these was Mr. Acteon Shaft, to whom he promptly communicated his situation; but as no one was allowed to have a private interview with the prisoner, previously to his examination, Mr. Shaft forbore visiting him till after his committal for trial to Cold Bath Fields prison--at that time called the Bastille by the disaffected. He found Brady utterly subdued by the weight of evidence which had been brought against him, and wholly at a loss to account for the accuracy by which it had been got up. The cunning of the lawyer had been completely foiled, and Frank's inauspicious appearance and testimony had almost overwhelmed him, whilst the dependence he had placed on old associates met with the disappointment which generally follows the unseemly combinations of disreputable characters,--he found himself abandoned by nearly all his former parasites and admirers, with the additional mortification of suspecting that some amongst them had been the medium through which his proceedings had been betrayed. In this frame of mind it cannot be expected that he was very communicative--in fact, he knew not on whom to fix; Shaft himself might be the individual who had given the information, and therefore he felt that it behoved him to exercise caution: their interview, consequently, was of short duration, and terminated abruptly, both apparently weary of the other. To the clear view of the lawyer there seemed to be but one chance for his life, and that was escape from prison. Shipkins still adhered to his master, and was the supposed channel of correspondence between the latter and an eminent barrister, who, it was alleged, had undertaken Brady's cause, but for the present remained in the background. It is true that the clerk was suspected, and a watch was set upon them when together; but their conversation was generally carried on in too low a tone to be distinctly overheard or understood, though not unfrequently their gestures manifested warm disputes, if not downright quarrels, and muttered threats and menaces were exchanged, which usually terminated in earnest appeals from the master, and the seeming acquiescence of the clerk. The apartment[17] occupied by Brady was one of those appropriated to state prisoners--and the lawyer was well acquainted with its locality, having frequently visited this particular part, to hold consultations with his clients, who were confined for political offences. Its dimensions were about twelve feet by eight; but one corner was occupied by the fire-place so as to face the opposite angle of the room, and as many indulgences were allowed by the authorities, and others were procured by the aid and connivance of turnkeys, there was an air of comfort about it which was rendered more striking by comparison with other parts of the building. There were two strongly-grated windows facing the north, and as the room was thirty feet from the ground it commanded a distant view of Highgate and the neighbouring upland, whilst the adjacent grounds--now nearly covered with houses--were at that time open fields. In his visits Shipkins had contrived to furnish Brady with extremely sharp files, and the latter occupied himself, during several nights, in cutting through the bars of one of the windows, which after nearly a fortnight's labour he successfully effected, and from his general demeanour during the day no suspicion was excited. On the night which he had fixed for his escape, he was locked up at the usual hour, and anxiously did he await the time he had appointed with Shipkins to make the trial. Brady was not deficient in courage; but when he heard the deep sonorous and lengthened tones of St. Paul's clock, as they came swelling on the breeze, a sickening sensation crept over him. Watt had recently been executed at Edinburgh for treason, under somewhat similar charges as those brought against Brady, but not of so aggravated a nature. The lawyer was aware of this, and being a clever man in his profession, he knew his case to be so glaring, that he could expect nothing but conviction, without a shadow of mercy. His present attempt, therefore, was for the preservation of his existence, and every stroke of the cathedral clock was to him as a death-knell, to warn him of his future fate, should his endeavours fail. The sounds proclaiming the midnight hour had ceased--the wind from the south came in fitful gusts through the long passages and up the winding staircase, and its moaning noise resembled the wail of lamentation from those who were suffering the punishment for crime. Brady listened for a moment, and then his energies reviving, he wrenched away the bars from their slight hold, and cautiously placed them in the room. A coil of sash-line doubled and knotted was drawn forth from beneath his bed--one end was thrown over the projecting frieze of the side wall, which flanked his window, the other he held in his hand; but hardened as the man was, and thus peculiarly situated, he breathed forth a prayer to Heaven for deliverance. His descent was easy, but just as he had gained the ground, a lurid light was suddenly spread around him--and in the impulse of the moment, the villain, who but a minute or two before had been petitioning the Omnipotent to save him, now drew forth a sharp-pointed stiletto, determined to perpetrate murder should there be only one to oppose him. The light, however, disappeared, and he felt disposed to ridicule his own alarm, as he called to recollection that it emanated from a rocket which had been sent up from that noted and much-frequented place of amusement, Bagnigge Wells. Without further delay, he proceeded to the outer wall, about fifty yards distant, and here, at a particular spot, he found that a rope-ladder, with a stone attached to the end, had been thrown over, which satisfied him that his confederate Shipkins had not deserted him. In a few minutes he was on the summit of the wall, and could perceive a dark moving mass below; he looked over the dim expanse, and gloomy as it was in the dreariness of night, it reminded him of freedom. In a short time the rope was secured, by working it in between the coping stones, so that a knot could not be drawn through, and after trying his weight he descended totally unobserved, and found his ally awaiting him. The Fleet river, which flowed by the western wall, was passed, a hackney-coach was at hand in the road, and they drove off in the direction of Islington. A few days subsequently Brady got down upon the coast, and obtained a passage across to France, where he remained a spectator of, and often an actor in, the revolutionary atrocities that marked this eventful era. Reports, however, were prevalent that he had returned to England--the police were directed to be on the alert; but though it was repeatedly averred that he had been seen in London and its precincts, he contrived to escape the vigilance of all. CHAPTER X. When Frank Heartwell visited the estate of Mr. Wendover, near Fowey, and had an interview with Helen, the merchant had journeyed to the metropolis to examine the property that had been so strangely discovered in the cottage at Finchley, and which had been deposited for security in his mansion; for his steward had discovered amongst the papers, deeds involving a vast amount, together with several thousand pounds in bank-notes, the whole belonging, he had every reason to believe, to a person then in existence. Mr. Wendover went down to Finchley, and ascertained by a registry of names and documentary evidence, that an extensive conspiracy, connected with the revolutionary societies of the day, had been in fearful progress, and that one of the principal leaders and agents had formerly been in possession of the cottage, where arms and ammunition had been collected to carry out their traitorous designs; but the promptitude of the government had arrested some of the chiefs in the intended insurrection, and the voice of the nation had so unequivocally declared against revolution, that the plan had been abandoned, and the arms remained in concealment. On examining the deeds, he was much struck by reading in numerous places the name of Heartwell; and even the parcels of bank-notes which were found in a tin-box had similar superscriptions on the envelopes which inclosed them; with only this difference, that the christened name in the former was Thomas, and on the latter Frank. Mr. Wendover was well acquainted with Mrs. Heartwell's affecting history, and he could not help connecting the discovery of the wealth with the great loss she had sustained, especially as frequent mention was made of Calcutta, where a valuable property was situated; still there was nothing of a definite nature to prove the fact. The merchant, though fond of money, was also an honourable man: he might have appropriated the treasure to his own use, but he determined to institute a rigid investigation, and then act with integrity. He accordingly waited on Mrs. Heartwell, and minutely inquired into every circumstance of her melancholy story; from thence he repaired to the agent and banker, through whose hands the documents had passed; and here at once his doubts were set at rest, for most of the papers were identified by the clerk (now a partner in the firm), who had delivered them up in Brady's office, and produced the acknowledgment of their being received, in which the whole were distinctly noted and set forth, so as accurately to correspond with those which were found; and on referring to the books, the very numbers of the bank-notes were ascertained. All was thus far perfectly satisfactory, and Mr. Wendover lost no time in communicating the intelligence to Mrs. Heartwell, to whom the acquisition of riches was only acceptable, as tending to promote the welfare of her son. Everything was put in proper train to secure her right, and she now experienced a melancholy satisfaction in returning to the cottage, as she cherished a fervent hope that there the mystery which hung over the fate of her husband would be solved. At no time had she yielded to utter despondency; but the merchant strongly suspected that the lieutenant had been decoyed or forced to the cottage, murdered, and his remains deposited in some of the vaults underground, which (under pretence of requiring repairs, so as not to wound Mrs. Heartwell's feelings) were immediately ordered to be cleared, and every part strictly examined. This was faithfully executed, but nothing whatever was discovered to elucidate the affair, beyond the fact, that the former occupants were men of daring and desperate character, whose names were unknown in the neighbourhood. Mr. Wendover returned to Cornwall for the purpose of removing his family to the metropolis; he promised Mrs. Heartwell to inform her son of the events which had transpired, and if possible to put into Plymouth and perform it personally. After some delay the anxious mother wrote all the particulars to the young officer, and the letter reached Plymouth on the very day that Frank sailed for the Mediterranean, so that he departed wholly ignorant of his good fortune. Young Heartwell's breast glowed with warm and joyous feelings, when the thoughts of his having rescued Helen from death dwelt upon his mind:--and when did he forget it? He had shown her proud father that he was not undeserving of friendship and patronage, and he had again proved to Helen the devotedness of his regard. The Mediterranean offered a fair field for promotion to those who were determined to merit it; for Nelson was there, and his name carried with it a conviction that daring achievements and good conduct would not be suffered to sink into oblivion. The frigate made a quick passage to Gibraltar, where she was suffered to remain only a few hours, and was then directed to pursue her way with despatches for Sir Horatio Nelson. It was known that the French fleet was out from Toulon, and the gallant admiral in pursuit, but his exact situation rested on conjecture. With a fine breeze the captain steered for Sicily, and found the fleet at Syracuse, preparing to get under weigh; the despatches were delivered, the supernumeraries of the frigate were transferred to the flag-ship--the Vanguard; and thus Frank and his two humble friends, Ben and Sambo, had the honour of being within the same heart-of-oak with the gallant hero whose fame has been immortalised throughout the world, and whose name is sanctified by a nation's gratitude. Nelson was ever kind and considerate to young officers,--he looked upon them as under his immediate protection and care, and Frank's appearance and manners very soon attracted his notice; he inquired relative to his future prospects--learned the story of his life--had been acquainted with his father, and he now promised to befriend the son, should the young man prove deserving of his patronage. As a pledge of his future intentions, he promoted a meritorious midshipman to the rank of lieutenant, and gave Frank the vacant rating, "in order," as the admiral said, "to give him a stronger claim upon the Admiralty when they had captured or destroyed the fleet of the enemy," for he entertained no doubt of the result could he but fall in with them. The Battle of the Nile is a matter recorded in the pages of history, and no Englishman can be ignorant of its details--therefore description will be unnecessary here. Ben was in his glory, and though his gun was twice nearly cleared of men, and himself severely wounded, he continued nobly performing his duty, taking a steady aim in the darkness by the fire of their opponents, the Spartiate and Aquilon--exclaiming as he applied the match to the priming, "Hurrah! there it goes, my boys! What's the odds so as you're happy?" Frank was on the quarter-deck near the undaunted chief when he fell wounded into the arms of Captain Berry, and Nelson's face was instantly covered with blood that deprived his remaining eye of sight--a piece of langridge having struck him across the forehead and cut away a portion of skin, that hung down like a flap. Frank assisted in carrying the brave admiral to the cockpit, and was witness to his magnanimity, when he refused to have his own wounds dressed until those who had precedence of him were attended to. He recognised the midshipman by his voice--pressed his hand--requested Captain Berry not to forget his interests, and bade the young man "farewell," for Nelson believed that he was dying. Happily for his country, the hero lived--the enemy was beaten, and Frank, with strong certificates and recommendation, was sent home in one of the captured ships that he might be enabled to pass his examination at Somerset House, and avail himself of Nelson's kind intentions. It would be impossible to describe the emotions that agitated the young officer when apprised on his arrival of the events that had occurred to advance his good fortune, and the prospect of a favourable consideration in the esteem of Mr. Wendover, which promised him future happiness with the dear girl he so ardently loved. As soon as possible he obtained leave of absence, and Ben, whose wounds required attention, accompanied him to London. The meeting with his mother and Helen was joyous and delightful; but still there came painful thoughts of his father blending with those of a happier mood, and, like Mr. Wendover, he connected circumstances together till something like conviction had established itself that the cottage was the spot in which his parent had been plundered and destroyed. Helen was no longer forbidden to hold intercourse with Frank--the merchant himself now sanctioned the intimacy, and never ceased expressing his admiration at the young man's conduct when his yacht was wrecked. Ben found an asylum at the cottage; but when commiserated on account of the injuries he had sustained, he declared that he was proud of his "honourable scars."--"They were gained," he would say, "under Nelson, fighting for my king and country--and what's the odds so as you're happy?" Frank passed his examination very creditably--he was not forgotten by Earl Chatham--his testimonials were excellent, and three days afterwards he was presented with a lieutenant's commission, appointing him to a seventy-four, recently launched at Woolwich; he joined without delay, as the duties would not prevent his frequent visits to Finchley. It was at the close of a dull November afternoon that he sat in the parlour of the cottage alone; for on his arrival about an hour previous, he ascertained that his mother and Ben had suddenly been summoned to the City on business of importance, and the servant-man had driven them to town in her own little carriage--the gardener had been sent for to the manor-house, and no one remained but the maid-servant and a young girl. More than once the lieutenant rose from his seat, and taking his hat, prepared to set out, and pass an hour or two with Helen, but, anxious to learn the purport of his mother's embassy, and conjecturing that she would not be long before she made her appearance, he again seated himself in restless anxiety. The early shades of evening began to fall heavily, and there was a sickly yellow mistiness in the atmosphere that gave a jaundiced complexion to the visions of the mind. Frank felt its influences, and was growing somewhat melancholy, when a stranger alighted from his horse at the gate, rung the bell, and having inquired for Mrs. Heartwell, rather intrusively walked into the house, and entered the parlour; but observing the lieutenant, he became evidently embarrassed, though, instantly recovering himself, he made a suitable apology in homely language. His dress and manners were those of a plain elderly country farmer--a drab great-coat with its cape encompassed his person, a capacious silk handkerchief was round his neck, his hair was cropped and grizzly, surmounted by a broad-brimmed hat, and he carried a hunting whip in his hand. Frank stirred the fire so as to throw a stronger light into the room, and having requested the stranger to take a chair, politely required his business. "You are, I understand, young gentleman, about to quit this cottage," replied he, "and as I am retiring from farming, and like the situation, I should be happy to take it off your hands--either as tenant, or by purchase." "I am utterly unable, sir, to afford you any satisfactory answer on the subject," said Frank; "the cottage belongs to Mr. Wendover, the lord of the manor, and I am not yet certain that our quitting it has been decided upon, though I admit it may take place." "In the event of your leaving, would the gentleman you have named feel disposed to part with it, think you?" inquired the stranger. "I would give him a handsome price--for in fact there are early associations connected with the place that attach me to it. You, perhaps, would exercise your influence in my favour?" The mention of early associations aroused Frank's curiosity, he rang the bell, and ordered candles to be brought, and as soon as they were placed upon the table, he once more adverted to the pleasantness of the cottage, and then enquired, "Pray, sir, is it long ago since you resided here?" "Yes--yes--I may say it is seventeen or eighteen years," responded the stranger. "I lived with a relation then, and admire the situation so much that I should like to pass the rest of my days upon the spot." The lieutenant felt his blood tingle down to his fingers' ends at the mention of the period--it was one full of deep interest to him, and casting a searching look at the man, he demanded, "You must know Brady, then?" [Illustration: Frank Heartwell seizing Brady as the murderer of his Father.] The question was like an electric shock to the stranger--he started, his countenance became contorted, and in the wild rolling of his eye, Frank was instantly reminded of the period at which he had first seen it when a child in the lawyer's room at Lincoln's Inn. He sprang from his chair, and grasping the man by the collar, exclaimed, "You--you are my father's murderer!" Brady drew a pistol, and presented it at Frank's head--the lieutenant knocked up the muzzle, and the ball flew harmlessly to the ceiling. At this moment two men rushed in to the lawyer's rescue, but not till Frank had wrenched the pistol from his hand, and struck him a severe blow with the butt--the next instant the candles were extinguished, and Heartwell lost consciousness through the stunning effects of a hit on the back of his head, and resigned his grasp; he quickly, however, regained it, and a desperate struggle ensued. At this moment the gardener returned from the manor-house--he had seen a light waggon standing on the common under the care of a boy, and on entering the gate, had been nearly knocked down by a tall stout man, who mounted a horse that was in waiting, and galloped off. Hurrying into the cottage, his timely succour turned the fate of the encounter--the two scoundrels were overmatched; one contrived to steal away, Frank still grasped the other, and having managed to get hold of his dirk that lay upon a sofa, the fellow was wounded past resistance and sank upon the floor. Lights were brought; the lieutenant gazed earnestly on the face of his prisoner--it was not Brady, but Shipkins; for the lawyer, though desperately hurt, had taken advantage of Frank's momentary weakness to throw down the candles and effect his escape, and the lieutenant had unknowingly seized the clerk in his stead. Great were the consternation and alarm of Mrs. Heartwell on her return from the metropolis, to which she had been deluded by a pretended message got up by the vile confederates. The gardener too was similarly deceived; for the scoundrels, unaware that the treasure had been removed, had hoped to find the cottage destitute of protection, so that they might easily carry off the booty they expected to find. Frank's presence had disconcerted Brady, who invented a plausible excuse, but villany met with detection and punishment, as already described. When calmness was somewhat restored, it was proposed to send Shipkins to prison in the waggon which had brought him out on his nefarious excursion; but the man was evidently dying, and Mrs. Heartwell conjectured that by detaining him at the cottage, and treating him with kindness, he might be induced to make admissions and confessions which would tend to elucidate the past. At first, however, he was stubborn and morose, and refused the assistance that was proffered him--he was not aware that his last hour was so near at hand, but when assured by a surgeon that he had not long to live, and he was earnestly exhorted to unburthen his mind of guilty concealment before entering the presence of his Maker, the hitherto hardened sinner was subdued--the near approach of death, and the terrors of a future state, wrought powerfully on his conscience, and these increased as his physical energies decayed. None can tell the agonised suspense of Mrs. Heartwell and the agitation of her son as that period seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer which, they expected, would disclose the fate of a husband and a father. Frank, though much hurt, would not quit his mother, and both occasionally visited the room of the dying man. Remorse at length prevailed, and willing to atone as far as practicable for his misdeeds, he requested that a magistrate might be sent for to take his deposition. Mr. Wendover, acting in that capacity, promptly attended, and to him he revealed acts of enormity and crime in which he and Brady had for years been engaged, particularly the circumstances connected with the victim of their diabolical practices--Lieutenant Heartwell. [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 17: I believe it was the same room in which Fauntleroy was confined, previously to trial.] THE FIRE-KING FLUE. I. _Who_ burnt the _House of Lords_? Who, sir, who? An answer broke Through fire and smoke, "_I_ burnt it down, And it wasn't in joke! With a horrible flare-up I caused it to glare up, I _done_ it 'quite brown' To astonish the town! Yes, _I_ burnt it down!" You, you! Who are you? "Why, I am the Fire-King Flue!" II. _Who_ burnt _St. Stephen's Chapel_? Ay, who, sir, who? In thunder the same, Through fume and flame, The answer came, "_I_ burnt the chapel, And panted to grapple With Abbey and _Hall_; 'Twere easy to do As roasting an apple, Or smashing a stall-- For I am the Fire-King Flue!" III. _Who_ fired the _Royal Exchange_? Yes, who, sir, who? The reply as before Came in ravage and roar-- "_I_ fired the 'Change With a bad kitchen range! Should I do it once more When 'tis rear'd up anew, You must not think it strange, Since I'm fire-proof too; Yes, I am the Fire-King Flue!" IV. _Who_ tried to fire the _Bank_? Ah! who, sir, who? "Why, _I_ tried the Bank, Though it wouldn't quite do; And the City may thank The fire-brigade With their hose and tank; Or the blaze _I_ made Would have fired that too-- Yes, I, the great Fire-King Flue!" V. Oho! is it so? Then we pretty well know, Who set fire to the _Tower_. We do, we do! In evil hour, King Flue, 'twas _you_! With your red-hot pipe For mischief ripe-- With your fiery breath Bringing ruin and death-- With your cast-iron face, You set fire to the place-- Oh! pest of our race, Grim, ghastly, Fire-King Flue! VI. _Who_ burnt _Woolwich Dockyard_, eh? Who, who, who? "_I_--King Flue! A bit of a flare, you'll say; Yes, thanks to the drum and gong, And the engines thundering along, And sappers and miners, All regular shiners, Marines and artillery, And convicts that flock'd As if freed from the pillory; Or between me and you The Dockyard had been dock'd, As sure as my name's King Flue!" VII. _Who'll_ set the Thames on fire? "_I_ will," says Flue; "'Tis the thing I should like to do! Only give me the Tunnel To use for a funnel Of thrice-heated air, And you'll see such a flare! Or the Monument--that would do; In fact I should much prefer it; 'Twould make such a capital _flue_; Or when the tide turning Found out it was burning, 'Twould do for a poker to stir it." VIII. To save our notes and gold, And our trophies now too few; To save our buildings old And to save our buildings new; Tell us, Braidwood, what shall we do? Spirits Aquatic, help us through, For we're in the clutch of fierce King Flue! This prayer at least put up, Good people, before you sup: "God bless the Queen, and her loving Prince, And the Royal Infants _two_; And castle and palace Preserve from the malice Of this terrible Fire-King Flue!" * * * * * P.S.--May we ask who threw That shell in the _Horse Guards_, With one in the barrack-yards To blow up the _Gallery_ too? "Ha ha! Ho ho!" roars Flue, "With that I had nothing to do; So mind number one, For foul deeds may be done, Without coming through a foul flue!" [Formerly, when a public building was scorched or burnt, the accident was accounted for by saying, "Oh! the _plumbers_ have been at work"--or "It was the carpenter's glue-pot." "The flue" in these days supersedes every explanation; it is the great mystery that solves all other mysteries.] A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN LEAKEY. BY JOHN COPUS. Mr. John Leakey inherited an income of five hundred a-year, and a very neat cottage, situated on the high road about three miles from C----, in one of the finest parts of the county of Essex. Of his parentage little need be said. His father was a clergyman, his maternal parent a cook in his grandfather's establishment whom his progenitor rashly married. This fact was a constant source of misery to the sensitive John, and will fully account for the decided antipathy, manifested by him on all occasions, to that useful class of domestics in general, and especially to that particular individual who happened for the time to superintend the culinary department of Hill Cottage. Indeed his language regarding cooks was occasionally quite shocking. His maiden sister Jemima, a highly nervous female of spare and meagre proportions, frequently went into small fits caused by John's outrageous and unbecoming language or conduct, when the subject of cooks was by any chance introduced. "If I had my way," worthy John would say with stern voice and solemn countenance, "I'd let no woman be a cook who was not fifty at least; had it not been for Jane Grubbings I might hold up my head as a gentleman. They are all of them a set of vicious, impudent, and designing hussies. I attribute half the miseries of human life to cooks." "No doubt, John--like enough!" replies the ever calm and peaceful Jemima, anxious to agree with her brother in all things; "I've always said that nothing causes greater misery than indigestion, and badly-cooked things, you know, cause _it_; don't they, John?" "Jemima, you're a jackass, so hold your tongue!" was the tender answer given to poor Jemima's remarks, on this and on every occasion. It may be necessary to give the reader some idea of Mr. Leakey. He was a large tall man, of an unwieldy form and ogre-like gait. His countenance was broad and singularly flat; his eyes large and heavy; and as to his nose, I am quite at a loss in what category to class that nasal organ of his. At the top it was all very well, but in its descent it was like the stone gathering moss--_a vires acquirit eundo_ kind of affair; for by the time it reached its termination it was fearfully broad. It was a family nose not maternally but paternally obtained, and that was one comfort. He had it in full vigour at school, and Jemima told a story about it. "Poor John," she would say to a gossip, "certainly has a funny nose. When he was at school, a procacious boy (Jemima occasionally miscalled words) took it into his head, d'ye know, that John had pushed it on purpose into his face, and every morning regularly when he got up, he used to pull it as hard as he could to ascertain, as he said, whether that sneaking nose of Leakey's _would_ come out." A poor Irishman too who had applied for relief at Hill Cottage, and been repulsed, spoke of Leakey as a "quare gentleman anyhow! wid a face for all the world as if a crowner's quest had been on it, and the crowner being a great man, had sat on his face entirely, and the rist of them on his body, and brought in a vardict of '_Found Soft_.'" Enough, however, has been said of John's personal appearance; I only add that he wore bluchers, with trousers tightly strapped over them, cherished flannel waistcoats and comforters, was an intolerable politician because he never read anything but the ----, which was his oracle; and on the whole was a little close-fisted. Years had flown quietly over Hill Cottage, from which, farther than occasionally to C----, neither John nor his sister Jemima had ever gone; nor indeed did they wish to go. Great, consequently, was the amazement and consternation which prevailed in their quiet little breakfast parlour, when there came from Mr. Jiggins, John's agent in town, a letter announcing said John's accession to some property, and the necessity of his appearance in the great metropolis for a few hours at the least. "Three hundred a-year, John!" exclaimed his sister; "indeed you are a very fortunate man." "Ay, ay! no doubt, Jemima; but what in the name of goodness gracious am I to do in London? I've not been there for thirty-five years." "Well, love!" soothingly answered Jemima; "you can go up at seven by the Star, you know, and return again the same night. So you'd better write and tell Mr. Jiggins when you mean to go, and he can arrange matters accordingly." And John did write forthwith, appointing the hour of twelve on the following Tuesday, to meet the necessary parties at Jiggins' offices, in Tokenhouse Yard. On Tuesday morning the whole household was in motion as early as four, the coach leaving at seven. There was such a wrapping of shawls, airing of musty camlet cloaks, and putting up of sandwiches and ginger lozenges, as never was seen before. Nay, Jemima insisted on his carrying a basket with him in which she told him had been placed the _Rousseaux_ left at yesterday's dinner. The arrival of the Star at Hill Cottage put an end to all these preparations, and with fear and trembling Mr. Leakey was consigned to the inside of the coach. Jemima, elevated on her pattens, and bearing a lantern, came down to the end of the little garden for the purpose of recommending her brother to the especial care of the coachman Burrell, adding by way of further inducement on his part to attend to her request, a small fib, to the effect that "indeed he had not been at all well lately." Nimrod has so eloquently described the utter amazement of a gentleman of the old school when travelling by a modern ten-mile-an-hour coach, as to render it quite unnecessary for me to attempt any description of worthy John's surprise at the rapid progress made by the Star towards the metropolis; how he gazed in silent wonder at the splendid teams of cattle which at every stage stood ready in their glittering harness to carry him on to town; and finally, how he marvelled when in the space of four hours he was safely landed in Aldgate, having travelled thirty-eight miles in that short time: on all this it is unnecessary for me to dilate. His troubles now seemed to crowd upon him. "Vant a cab, sir?" eagerly demands an impudent-looking fellow, rushing up, whip in hand, to where the unhappy Leakey stood utterly confounded by the bustle which surrounded him. "Gen'lm'n called me, Bill," exclaims a second in a chiding voice; "I see him a noddin' his head as he come along!" "Don't you go vith them, sir!" angrily breaks in a third; "I've got a reg'lar comfortable old jarvey, sir, cut down o' purpose for you, 'cos I know'd you vos a coming up to-day--and sich a hoss--only cab fares, sir--this vay!" And he was beginning to drag off the unresisting Leakey, when, "Come, just move orf!" exclaims the burley voice of Burrell; "I'll put you into a coach, sir, and remember I leaves this here place at hafe past three, punctooal!" So John was placed in a coach. "Vhere's shall I drive, sir?" demands the coachman. "Oh! ah!" exclaims our hero, drawing forth a card from which he reads--"a basket,--an umbrella,--a camlet cloak,--two shawls,--a great-coat,--a comforter,--a pair of galoshes,--all right--and self?--yes, then drive to Mr. Jiggins' offices in Tokenhouse Yard, Lothbury." "Wery good, sir." And off they went. Arrived at Mr. Jiggins's office, he found that worthy engaged, and the other parties not arrived. "Give Mr. Leakey a chair, Jemes," said Mr. Jiggins, "and here's this morning's paper, sir; splendid leader, Mr. Leakey; powerful writing. Stir the fire, Jemes, and put some more coals on--that'll do." So Leakey was placed on a chair before the fire to amuse himself with a perusal of a paper of whose existence he was only conscious by the fearful denunciations contained occasionally in the ---- against it. There sat Leakey, still enveloped in his panoply of cloth and camlet, shawl and galoshes, eyeing "the leader" which had been the subject of Jiggins's eulogium. He read on. Could his eyes have ceased to possess discriminating power? or was there living the caitiff wretch so utterly reprobate as to call his loved ---- by such names? It was too true. The more he read, the more convinced was he of the utter depravity of the human heart, and especially of the horrible wickedness of the man who could coolly declare that long article in the ----, over which he, John Leakey, had only yesterday gloated, to be "_twaddle_." His anger was excessive; another moment and he would have cast "that pestilential rag," as he ever afterwards denominated the vituperating journal, into the fire, had not Jiggins at that moment entered, and with him the men whose presence was required for the settlement of John Leakey's affairs. Scarcely checking his excited feelings, John suffered himself to be led to business. This being, after a time, satisfactorily finished, an adjournment took place to a neighbouring hostel; John, for once in his life, on the strength of three hundred a-year added to his former property, being generous enough to volunteer tiffin. The beefsteaks were done to a turn, the stout magnificent, the sherry first-rate. Jiggins had no particular business to call him home, so, with the two gentlemen beforenamed, thoroughly enjoyed himself at Leakey's expense, making fun occasionally of poor John, who, luckily, at all times rather obtuse, was becoming more and more muddled and confused every moment, so as not to dream, when his friends burst out into a loud laugh, that he was the subject of it. At half-past three, Jiggins accompanied our friend to Aldgate, saw him safely deposited once more in the Star, and as it was now raining heavily, and he had no further inducement to remain, wished him good-bye, and returned to Tokenhouse Yard. The coach was full inside, and John had just satisfactorily arranged his camlet, &c., when Burrell came to the door, put his head gently in at the window, as he stood on the steps, and said, "Have you any objection, gen'lm'n, to let a young ooman ride inside? it's raining fearful, and she'll get her death, I know she will, outside." "No, no!" gruffly responded the other three. It would have been well had John been equally opposed to five inside. As it was, however, "tiffin" had enlarged his heart, and he said, "Oh, yes, Burrell, I'll make room for her; you know, gentlemen, it would be a sad thing if she got her death through our unkindness." The persons addressed made no reply, nor had Leakey much time to consider the prudence of his act, before the door was opened, and Burrell handed a good-looking young woman into the coach, who seeing no disposition on the part of the other three to make room for her, very quietly sat down on Mr. J. Leakey's knees, being no mean weight. This was, however, scarcely a voluntary act, for the coach moved on at the moment and forced her to assume that position. Thus for twelve miles did he sit, at times wincing rather under his somewhat uncomfortable position, and not particularly pleased with the undisguised amusement of the others. Eventually he was liberated, for the three hard-hearted individuals left the coach at the end of twelve miles, and Leakey and the interesting female were left together. John felt that some little stimulus to his exhausted spirits might be desirable, so called for a glass of brandy-and-water; of which he drank as much as he wished for, and offered the rest to his fair _vis-à-vis_, who really seemed a very pleasing kind of person. She thanked him, and saying, "Here's to your very good health, sir," smirked, and drank it off. When the coach went on again, Leakey felt wonderfully invigorated, and entered into conversation with the lady, who proved highly communicative as to the respectability of her mother, and the moral excellence of all her relations. It was a very critical moment for an old bachelor, muddled as poor John most undoubtedly was. He called to mind Jemima's spare figure and not very beautiful face, and more than once thought how much pleasanter it would be to have at the head of his table so comely and intelligent a person as seemed the interesting individual now before him. "Infatuated a second time" (as Julia Mannering says to Bertram on his arrival from Portanferry at Woodburne, but _why_ I never could discover)--"Infatuated a second time" was our hero, for a second glass of brandy-and-water was had at the next stage, and duly consumed between the lady and himself. Leakey was now thoroughly fuddled, and the lady more agreeable than ever. In short--for the afflicting, the humiliating truth will force its way--before the coach stopped to change for the last time, the frantic John Leakey had actually proposed to his unknown enslaver--nay, worse--he was her accepted! It was not until this climax of his folly had put a temporary stop to conversation that he had time to think at all. Muddled as he was, he began to fear he had been too hasty. The fair lady was silent, as labouring under powerful emotions; and the coach having changed at C----, was not more than a mile from Hill Cottage, when she said, mildly-- "It's a very fortnit circumstance, sir, as I met with you; becos, I'm a going to a old genlm'n as lives near here--as----" "Eh?" groaned John, "as--what, eh?" "Oh, I was a going as _cook_; on'y, in course, I shan't stay with him long." "As cook! my gracious me!" exclaimed, or rather screeched, the miserable man; "what's the gentleman's name?--tell me quick!" "Mr. Leakey, sir!" When Burrell opened the coach-door as soon as Hill Cottage was gained, he found the unhappy John Leakey perfectly frantic. "Coachman, Burrell, take her away! she's a cook! she's a vicious, designing, impudent thing! she's made me propose to her--me--me--the son of a cook--Oh! o-oh! o-o-oh!" Draw we a veil over the proceedings which followed. Mr. Leakey, what with brandy and agony of mind, was put to bed perfectly raving. The cook was taken in for the night, and on being attacked by Jemima was scarcely restrained from flying at that exemplary spinster, who called her all the names she had ever heard her brother apply to women of her class. Next morning cook was dismissed, and shortly threatened an action, which Leakey was glad to compromise by the payment of one hundred pounds; making at the same time a solemn vow that he never would travel inside a coach again, or if he did, that he never would take compassion on a woman so far as to let her ride inside, though it should rain cats, dogs, and hedgehogs! OMNIBUS CHAT. It is essential to the full effect of a parody, whatever that may be, that the original--or, in other words, the thing parodied--should be familiar to the reader. Now, several parodies which we have this month received, undoubtedly possess that advantage. We have had three or four versions of "The Sweet Little Cherub that sits up aloft," dictated by the happy event that has given a young Prince to Wales, and a glad Promise to all England; we have received half-a-dozen parodies on "Gray's Elegy," suggested by the conflagration at the Tower; and we have also been favoured with a like number of variations of the "Beggar's Petition," commemorative of the detection of the fasting philosopher, Bernard Cavanagh, in the act of purchasing a "saveloy." But although the originals are all well known, we are tempted to pass these parodies by, in favour of one upon a poem which should be well known too. We allude to Alfred Tennyson's "Mariana at the Moated Grange." Whoso knoweth it not, will wisely let what follows attract his notice to a singularly touching production; and whoso remembereth it, will read with better relish, and no irreverence to the Beautiful thus companioned by the Burlesque, our accomplished correspondent's ingenious story of THE CLERK. A PARODY. With black coal-dust the walls and floor Were thickly coated one and all; On rusty hinges swung the door That open'd to the gloomy wall; The broken chairs looked dull and dark, Undusted was the mantel-piece, And deeply speck'd with spots of grease Within, the chamber of the clerk. He only said, "I'm very weary With living in this ditch;" He said, "I am confounded dreary, I would that I were rich." His bills came with the bells at even; His bills came ere their sound had died; He could not think why bills were given, Except to torture clerks--and sigh'd. And when the flickering rushlight's flame In darkness deep could scarce be seen, He mutter'd forth his bottled spleen, Unheard by aught of mortal frame. He said, "My life is very dreary With living in this ditch;" He said, "I am tarnation weary, I would that I were rich." Upon the middle of the bed, Sleeping, he dream'd of hoarded gold; Sovereigns were jingling in his head, And in his ken was wealth untold. But when he woke, no hope of change, In silver or in circumstance, Before his sorrowing eyes did dance; He thought that it was very strange-- But only said, "My life is dreary, I'll go to sleep," he said; He said "I am infernal weary, I would that bill were paid." About six fathoms from the wall, A blackened chimney (much askew) Smoked in his face--and round and small The chimney-pots destroy his view, Hard by--a popular highway, With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark, Where many a little dog doth bark, Some black, some mottled, many grey. He only said, "My life is dreary With living in this ditch;" He said, "I am fatigued and weary, I would that I were rich." E. P. W. The intense melancholy of the solitary clerk, sighing in his ditch, brought up our scientific reporter, Charles Hookey Walker, with some lucid and valuable notes of an appropriate discourse lately delivered; we append them here, for the benefit of all the doleful clerks throughout her Majesty's dominions. THE BRIGHTISH ASSOCIATION.--_Section B.--Chemistry and Mineralogy._ _President_--The Rev. Hugh Wells. _Vice-Presidents_--Dr. Durham & Prof. Hammer. "ON THE FORMATION AND ANALYSIS OF A DIRECT SIGH." By Mr. F. Silly. The author stated that the _sigh-direct_ was that to which he had paid the greatest attention. The "_sigh-direct_," he explained, was entirely different from the "_sigh-inverse_," the one being the production of the heart, and the other of the brain; the first being the thing itself, the second merely the symbol of the thing. He found the sigh-direct to consist generally of floating ideas, in the forms of "O dear!" "Ah me!" and "Alas!" held in solution by about their own bulk of a vague composition, formed of wishes and a cloud-vapour (of that class which is used as a site for erecting castles in the air upon), but which were so mixed and intercorporated, as to be inseparable to the nicest analysation. From the analysis, he had determined that the prime motive of a sigh is a longing for more; and that the functions thus acted upon expand the animal economy to its greatest extent, for the purpose of gratifying the longing for getting as much as it can of something, which, in this case, is only air. And this led him to a concluding remark on the extreme uselessness and futility of sighing, perceiving, as he did, that it only gave extra work to the muscles, for no tangible consideration. Mr. W. R. FIXE read a memoir on the probability of there being a constant chemical action, producing results yet unknown, in the interior of the earth, and that a current of electric fluid was constantly circulating through mineral veins; and that this circulation through the veins of living rocks was of as much importance in the formation of new productions, as the circulation of the blood in the veins of living men. * * * * * Our esteemed reporter proceeded to describe the proceedings of another Section. _Section D.--Zoology and Botany._ _President_--Sir Ely Phante. _Vice-Presidents_--Proffs. Munky and Nape. "A NEW METHOD OF SUPPLYING AGRICULTURAL SURFACES." By S. Sappy. The author had often remarked the tendency of thatched roofs to grow corn; and it struck him that these, at present unemployed surfaces, should be made use of to conduce to the support of the inmates of houses. By growing corn in this manner a family might render itself partially independent of the farmer, grow its own wheat, and thus, at once, be elevated in the scale of existence! He would call this practice stegoculture. He had introduced it in some of his tenants' cottages, and could assure the Association that nothing could have answered better than that experiment. Mr. SOFT observed it was one of those beautifully simple discoveries of application, as he would phrase it, which, like Columbus's egg, only required to be set up in the right manner, to stand a monument of ingenuity and genius to all future ages! Mr. PLUNKEY (from the Statistical section) said, that this discovery had relieved his mind of a heavy weight; he had long hoped for some light to dissipate the gloom with which he viewed the increase of population, while the land did not increase, but, on the contrary, diminished; for, as generations sprung up, houses rose also; thus, as more crop-ground was needed, more ground was needed for buildings. But with the aid of stegoculture, he had now no reason to apprehend a scarcity of growing-room, but, on the contrary, it was evident to any geometrist, that the two sides of a roof were of greater area than the ground they cover, thus giving an increase instead of a diminution of surface. With the impressions he had of the usefulness of this mode of culture, he looked forward to the time when agriculture would vanish before the spread of human habitations, and the science of stegoculture become of universal application. The PRESIDENT read a letter from Professor de Lenz, and the Schah Pyez, (Professor of Twigology in the University of Cairo), giving an animated description of their discovery of the skeleton of a male flea in the folds of a mummy cloth. The secretary then read the report of the committee which was appointed last year to inquire into the reason, "why crocodiles laid eggs." The report stated, that, the Association having furnished them with means (£500) to prosecute this inquiry, so important to science; they found it absolutely necessary to take a long and arduous journey into Egypt, to investigate the facts upon the spot. They had run great risks in pursuing their researches: having killed a crocodile for the purpose of dissection (which act had filled the Arabs with horror, as they consider the crocodile holy), they had narrowly escaped becoming martyrs in the cause of science. They had examined many hieroglyphics, and had discovered upon some of the most ancient, figures of a crocodile with wings,--this proved them to have been at one and the same time inhabitants of the water, the earth, and the air, and therefore, from their assimilation to the functions of birds, they laid eggs. This the committee had concluded was the reason of the phenomenon. They also stated, that, from the various facts which had come under their notice during this inquiry, they had no doubt that dragons at one time existed,--and proposed that a grant should be made for the purpose of searching for the skeleton of the famous Dragon of Wantley. Mr. SMITH (of London) read a paper showing that the popular story of "Jack and the Bean-stalk" was founded upon the old tradition of the Lotus-eaters, and that the idea of the tale had been taken from the alleged power the Lotus-fruit had in producing an elevation-above-the-clouds sort of feeling in the eater,--which was only transferred into reality in the case of Jack: the injunction of Pythagoras to his disciples to abstain from _beans_, being supposed to refer to the Lotus, may have given the idea of a bean-stalk to the novelist. Dr. DAUB stated, that by watering the ground round the roots of flowers with different chemical solutions, suited to the changes in colour wished for, he had been able to alter the tints of the petals to various colours, thus producing an agreeable and novel effect. PLAYING ON THE PIANO. [Illustration] The above communication having been read, a speculative listener suggested as a subject for one of the learned professors, the sympathetic connection which evidently exists between Music and Fire. He cited, as an old example of this, the fiddling of Nero during the burning of Rome; and related, as a recent proof of the secret affinity, the following story: "It is known," he said, "that during the fire at the Tower the soldiers in the fortress, as well as others, were occupied in removing the furniture of many of the inhabitants;" and free access was of course afforded them for that purpose. In one instance, a lady who had rushed up to the top of the house to secure some valuables, was, on descending after a short absence to the drawing-room, astonished to see two enormous 'British Grenadiers' _attempting_ to play the _Piano_; upon being discovered, they struck up the 'Grenadiers' March' to 'double-quick time,' carrying off the 'upright grand' in a very orderly and soldier-like manner. By the way, as we have here recurred to the subject with which we opened this Number, the fire at the Tower, we may mention that a relic of the wheel of the Victory is yet in existence; for a friend of ours assures us that while the fire was raging in the upper floors of the Armoury he saw a person _saw_ off one of the handles of the said wheel; and if he have not yet given it into the hands of the proper parties, we would recommend him to do so at once, or it may be made a _handle_ against him. It was upon another occasion that a lady and gentleman, who had just seen their opposite neighbour's house burnt down, were discussing the spectacle with great seriousness. "How I grieved," said the lady, "to see poor Mrs. Tims's beautiful damask curtains on fire." "Ah," returned her husband, who had a musical taste, "I didn't so much mind the curtains; but what grieved me most was to see the fireman _playing_ upon that capital grand piano of theirs." [Illustration] The subject next started was equally seasonable--though not seductive. The poet is evidently in the situation of one of her Majesty's subjects that we know of--who is the parent of more of her Majesty's subjects than we do know of--who, in fact, declares that his house is so "full of children" he cannot _shut the street-door for them_. NOVEMBER WEATHER. Autumn leaves are falling round us Now, in all the late green gardens! Summer flowers would quite astound us-- --Rare are they as "Queen Ann's fardens!" Once green lanes are now mere sloshes; Garden walks are quite unpleasant; Cloaks, umbrellas, and goloshes, Now are aught but evanescent! All the shrubberies are dripping-- Plots of grass are soft and spungy-- Roads seem only made for slipping-- And we fall like--Missolunghi! Now the streets are clear of rabble-- Shopkeepers find no employment-- Ducks and geese keep gabble, gabble-- Mocking us with their enjoyment! Now we cry, "When _will_ it leave off?"-- "What a very nasty day 'tis!"-- "There!--'tis clearing, I believe, off!"-- "No--how tiresome!--that's the way 'tis!" "Sarah," says mama, "my dear love, Don't waste time in looking out there, Come, and learn your lesson here, love-- --Jacky, mind what you're about there!" "John dear, MIND! you'll break that window, Come away, John, there's a darling!-- Jane, love, put away that pin, do!-- Tom, _do_ keep that dog from snarling!"-- "There! you've broke it, John!" "O please, ma, --Couldn't help it!"--(here a blubber) (Enter Pa.) "Why how you tease ma!-- Peace, you little squalling lubber!" "Pray, my dear, don't let the children Break the panes and roar like this now-- Lauk, the noise is quite bewild'ring!" "Pa, give little Jane a kiss now." Sweet to be "shut in" and quiet, Pleasant souls all snug together! But when "brats" are there to riot, Heaven defend us from wet weather!-- C. H. W. MRS. TODDLES. Even the most agreeable offices and employments of life are sometimes accompanied by melancholy misadventures; and the pleasure which we enjoy from month to month in the good-humoured reader's company, is now subject to a very serious drawback; for a painful duty is imperatively imposed upon us. We have to express our deep and poignant regret at being the medium, innocently and unconsciously, of wounding the susceptible feelings of a lady. We have hurt the feelings of Mrs. Toddles, by publishing some particulars of her life. It is true, we did not consider them to be in the slightest degree calculated to produce such an effect, nor did we vouch for their accuracy: no matter; her feelings are hurt, her sensibilities are shocked; and that deeply-injured lady is entitled to, and is hereby offered, the expression of our most sincere and heartfelt regret. Thus far in deference and delicacy to Mrs. Toddles. We must now proceed to state that we have received a letter from Col. Walker, or Talker, as he appears to sign himself, in which he remonstrates with us for publishing some professed particulars of the life of Mrs. Toddles, demands satisfaction and atonement on her part, and declares that even while his letter was being written, that injured lady was in violent hysterics. We conclude from the tone of the gallant Colonel's complaints, that the public mention of Mrs. T.'s "age" has given offence; and our correspondent is pronounced to be totally misinformed on that as on other points. We grant this to be possible; we did not vouch for the accuracy of Mr. Sly's statement, and are of opinion that no gentleman can know a lady's age so well as she knows it herself. Our maxim is, that every lady has a right to be, at all periods of her life, exactly what age she pleases--thirty odd at sixty-two if she likes. We also admit that every lady has a right to go into hysterics as often as she sees occasion; but because Mrs. T. chooses to exercise these sacred privileges of her sex, we do not recognise Col. Talker's right to threaten us with "law," or to attempt to frighten us with notices of "action." We are not to be intimidated there; we have too many lawyers among our acquaintances, and very pleasant fellows they are too. [Illustration: COL. WALKER, as he was seen when going to fetch the Peppermint.] But, after all, we cannot conceive that there is any very great harm done; for we are perfectly well aware, whatever Col. Talker may say, that Mrs. T.'s "fit" was not of a nature to show that her sensibilities had been _very_ seriously shocked, and we shall at once let the Colonel into our secret. We beg to tell him candidly that _we know all about it_. The fact is, that a correspondent of ours happens to reside exactly opposite Mrs. T.'s first floor, and without wishing to spy into other people's apartments, or affairs, could not help being a spectator of the scene he thus describes. [Illustration] He says that Col. T., entering Mrs. T.'s apartment on the first floor aforesaid, found that lady in a state of great excitement, the "Omnibus," No. 7, in her hand. After pointing in a very agitated manner to the last page, she drew forth her pocket handkerchief. The gallant Colonel paced the room evidently moved; he then appeared to be attempting to soothe her, but in vain--she shook her bonnet violently, and went off in a fit. The Colonel hereupon, instead of rushing to the chimney-piece for the smelling-bottle, seized a pint decanter, and hastily quitted the house. Immediately after, the bit of a girl was seen attempting to force a glass of cold water upon her mistress, which only seemed to make her worse; for she kicked the girl's shins with those dear little bits of black legs of hers most violently, something in the manner of Mr. Punch after he has been thrown from his horse. The gallant Colonel, after a short absence, knocked at the street door, and the moment the girl left the room to admit him, up jumped Mrs. Toddles--fact!--ran to the looking-glass over the fire-place, put her bonnet to rights, completing the adjustment with the usual side glances right and left, and then, to the utter astonishment of our informant, she resumed her seat--_and her fit_!--Oh, Mrs. T.! We suppress the remainder of our informant's description, merely remarking, that the pint decanter, when Colonel T. drew it from his pocket, contained, to all appearance, some strong restorative, the virtue and quality whereof the Colonel at once tested, by tossing off a bumper in the most gallant manner. We have since ascertained that it was _peppermint_. Whether our statement will be satisfactory to Colonel Walker we neither know nor care; but with respect to Mrs. Toddles we have expressed our contrition, and promise never to mention her age again. Any kindness we can render her will be at all times hers, and as a slight token of our sincerity, we respectfully beg that lady's acceptance of a pound of mixed tea, (eight-shilling green, and six-shilling black, very good,) which is left at our publisher's, if she will send her girl for it. [Illustration: Designed. Etched & Published by George Cruikshank. January 1st 1842. JACK O'LANTERN.] JACK-O'LANTERN. Every man has his Jack-o'lantern;--in dark night, in broad noon day--in the lonely wild, or in the populous city--each has his Jack-o'lantern. To this man Jack comes in the likeness of a bottle of old port, seducing him from sobriety, and leaving him in a quagmire; to that man, he appears in the form of a splendid phaeton and a pair of greys, driving him into bankruptcy, and dropping him into the open jaws of ruin. To one he presents himself in the guise of a cigar, keeping him in a constant cloud; to another he appears in no shape but that of an old black-letter volume, over which he continues to pore long after his wits are gone. Here you see Jack blazing in scarlet, and luring his dazzled follower on by military trappings alone to the pursuit of glory; and there Jack jumps about in the brilliant motley of harlequin, tempting a grave and leaden-heeled victim to dance away his nights and days. Jack-o'lantern is to some people, a mouldy hoarded guinea--and these he leads into the miser's slough of despond; with others, when he pays them a visit, he rolls himself up into the form of a dice-box--and then he makes beggars of them. Poetry is one man's Jack-o'lantern, and a spinning-jenny is another's. Fossil bones, buried fathoms deep in the earth, act Jack's part, and lure away one class to explore and expound; Cuyps and Claudes, in the same way, play the same part with a second class, and tempt them to collect, at the sacrifice of every other interest, or pursuit in life. Jack will now take the likeness of a French cook, and draw a patriot from his beloved country to enjoy a foreign life, cheap; and now he will assume the appearance of a glass of water, persuading the teetotaller, who "drank like a fish" in his young days, to go further astray, and drink a great deal more like a fish in his old days. Jack-o'lantern has some attractive shape for every age and condition. In childhood, he lures us, by overhanging clusters of cherries and currants, into regions consecrated to steel-traps and spring-guns; in after-age, he takes us irresistibly into the still more dangerous region of love and romance, winning us by his best lights--the bright eyes of woman; and to the very end of our days he finds some passion or prejudice wherewith to woo us successfully--some straw wherewith to tickle us, how wise-soever, and unwilling we may be. The very seasons of the year--each has its Jack-o'lantern. The bright glancing sunshine of a spring morning, when it tempts us into a sharp east-wind under promise of sultriness;--the rich luxuriousness of summer, when it fills us with aches and cramps, after revelling in romps among the grass. Christmas--yes, Christmas itself has its Jack-o'lantern. We do not mean the great blazing fire, which has been properly called the heart and soul of it; no, Jack plays his part amidst the roysters in the jovial time, by urging extra plum-pudding, which involves extra brandy with it; by suggesting mince-pies, and other irresistibles, that involve a fit of indigestion; by conjuring up blind-man's-buff, to lead one into the peril of rent skirts, and bruised heads; or by appearing in the form of a pack of cards, to the loss perhaps of one's money or one's temper * * * Moralize we no longer upon Jack-o'lantern; he has led us to Christmas, and let him leave us there in pleasant company. CHRISTMAS. BY SAM. SLY. Now is the time For all things prime! Cramm'd Turkeys, dropsied Lambs, and oily Geese, Forced Chickens, bloated Pigs, and tons of grease; Sir-loins of suet--legs, and wings, of fat, And boys from school, to say they "can't touch that;" Mountains of Mutton, tubs of tails and blubber, Larks by the yard, like onions on a string, And giblets by the pailful is a thing Enough to turn the stomach of a grubber, Unless he tweak his nose and shut his eyes. And then again there's piles of Lemon-peel, Hillocks of nutmegs, currants, plums, and figs; And children gazing "merry as the grigs," Longing (for that which joy cannot conceal) That some of these may sweeten their "minced pies." Now, men get civil--lads more mild appear, Than they were wont to do throughout the year; The hat is doff'd--civilities come fast That after Christmas who shall say will last? Now, pens are busy writing out "old scores," And birds get pert and hop about our doors, Fighting their comrades for the largest crumbs. See that old lady shivering as she goes, Furr'd to the eyes, and muffled to the nose, And he who thumps his sides to warm his thumbs. Mark the lone berry on the Mountain Ash Like a child's coral on a leafless twig-- Watch the Tom-tit That's shaking it: He's getting desperate--bolting it slap dash-- A decent mouthful for a throat not big. Now here's a pretty lesson for all sinners, Hunger's the sauce to sweeten Christmas dinners. The fire burns blue--the nearest part gets roasted-- The "off-side" suffers in the frigid zone; Just like a slice of bread that's been half toasted-- One spot is brown'd--the other cold as stone. The winds are hoarse, the sun gets shy and cool, That is, he's not so warm with his embraces-- And old Jack Frost instead begins to rule, So with his brush puts rouge on ladies' faces; A tint more lovely than the finest powder, And speaking to the eye and heart much louder. Now friends get close--and cousins meet their cousins, Babbies their daddies--aunts their pretty nieces; The jokes go round, and lies perhaps by dozens, And Jacky pulls his master all to pieces. Now prayers and cards are all the go-- How's that you ask? Well, I don't know; I only know--the fact is so! A SNAP-DRAGON: CONSISTING OF A SONG, A SONNET, AND A SERENADE. A "JOLLY" SONG--BY CHARLES HOOKEY WALKER, ESQ. Leave, O! leave, that set of fellows, Who are always sensible; They give one the blues and yellows-- 'Tis most reprehensible! Stretch your mouths from ear to ear, Never mind your beauty: Wisdom never holds it dear-- Laugh, and do your duty! Laughing does a person good, Muscles exercising; Helping to digest the food-- So 'tis not surprising That by laughing all grow fat, Chasing off the yellows, The blue devils, and all that; Laugh, then, jolly fellows! Push the bottle round the board, Tell the tale so merry, Sing the songs that are _encored_. Let's be happy--very! Push the bottle round about, Let us hear your singing, Give it voice, and troll it out. Set the glasses ringing! "Here's a health to her I love! Hip! hip! hip! hurra, sirs!" "D'ye think, sir, that the gods above Shave themselves with razors?" "No, sir, to be sure they don't, But with shells of oysters!" "Wine with me, sir?" "No, I won't!" Thus go on the roysters. Laughing, quaffing, glee and fun! That's the time of day, sir; Laugh that life was e'er begun, Laugh your life away, sir! Never wish you ne'er were born, Don't sit sadly sighing; Morn and eve, from eve to morn, Laugh, for time is flying! SONNET TO "SOME ONE." And thou wert there! and I was not with thee! Thy bright eyes shone on many, but their ray Was just as if you had been Alice Gray, And hadn't braided up your hair for me. This method of expressing it, you see, Implies the same as if I were to say (As _vide_ song) your eyes were turned away, And my heart's breaking!--as it ought to be-- (And so it is of course). This world is drear! Most drear--without thee, SOME ONE! at my side! Death! peace! I'll go and drown myself, that's clear! In the affairs of men I'll find _my_ tide. Yes! life has now no music for my ear, Except that tune of which the old cow died!--C. H. W. THE HOMOEOPATHIST'S SERENADE. BY DR. BULGARDO. The toiling sun has sped To his ever-distant goal; And the moon hangs overhead Like a silver parasol. Long has she not unfurled Her banner thus on high, But looked, for all the world, Like a muffin in the sky. The tears saline, I weep, Have no effect I see; The screech-owl talks in her sleep, But thou say'st nought to me. Thy eyelashes, love, are soft, And long as a skein of silk; Thou'rt harmless, it strikes me oft, As a grain of sugar of milk. WHAT DO YOU DO THAT FOR? BY JOHN COPUS. In this age of "why and because," wherein even Master Thomas is considered to be devoid of his proper share of intellects unless he demand a full and clear statement of the grounds on which papa considers it expedient that he should learn his letters--in this age of essays, treatises, and commissions, wherein a plethoric pig cannot quietly stuff itself to death without some Diabolus Gander investigating the probable causes which eventually led to that result--it has come into the head of one deeply and many times pondering, to call the attention of a discerning and inquiring public to various little customs and practices prevalent in the world; and this with a view of eliciting at some future time satisfactory explanations of their probable origin and rationale from abler pens and keener intellects than my own, rather than with the intention of supplying them myself. * * * * * Mr. Brown has seated himself in his cosey arm-chair by the fire, in his little parlour at Camberwell, having just bid adieu to the "bus" which daily conveys him to and from the City, and, with handkerchief spread over his broad countenance, is settling himself to sleep, surrounded by a wife and various olive branches; when--"Oh, my gracious evins!" exclaims his amiable spouse, a comely dame, of warm feelings, and peculiarity in expressing them, "here's Johnny been and cut hisself in such a manner you never see! Lawky-daisey me! Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!! Johnny's a'most cut his finger orf!" "Tsut, tsut, tsut, tsut!--deary me!--poor fellow!--tsut, tsut, tsut!" responds that individual, starting up. Now, what on earth _do you do that for_, Brown? Come, roundly, your reason, sir? Do pray tell me _why_ you produced the series of peculiar sounds represented by "tsut, tsut," &c. You are a stout man, and a sober man,--why, in the name of all that's unaccountable, _did_ you utter them? But the fact is, you are not alone, Brown, in your inability to solve this difficult question. For I never yet encountered the man who _could_ satisfactorily explain to me how or why those sounds have come to be admitted into general society, as heralds or harbingers of a condoling and sympathising speech, or indicative, without further remark, of inward and heartfelt commiseration for suffering humanity in the breast of him who utters them. Philosophers, just explain this! * * * * * "Let us go and hear Miffler preach this morning," said a friend to me the other morning, in the country: "his congregation is composed entirely of the poorest, and, I should think, the most ignorant portion of our agricultural population. But they say that he manages to preach so plainly, that every one can understand and follow him." So off we set, and a pleasant walk across the fields brought us to Elmsleigh church--one of those exceedingly picturesque old places, with a funny wooden steeple, or spire, if it can be called so, rising from the still more ancient square tower. We found Mr. Miffler in the reading-desk already, and, by his scarlet hood, knew him an Oxonian (we subsequently found he had been a first-class man). After reading the prayers exceedingly well, he ascended to the pulpit, and commenced his sermon. Now, supposing his congregation to have consisted of men of my friend's mental calibre, it was an exceedingly good and intelligible sermon; but to the majority of those present it was about as intelligible as High Dutch would have been, or Hebrew without the points. I could not help glancing at a countryman in his smockfrock and leggins, whose countenance forcibly recalled to my mind one of those grotesque satyrs occasionally seen carved on old chimney-pieces; and wondering as I gazed at him what train of thought the words which Miffler had just uttered--"_the noxious dogmas exhibited in certain patiestic commentators, subsequent to the Nicene council_"--had conjured up in his mind! Then again Miffler gravely informed his hearers that _ambition_ was a deadly sin, warning them against it. Ambition!--to a clodhopper whose only aspiration after greatness is to get Farmer Jeffreys to keep him on at work through the winter! Miffler, _what do you do that for_? But you, again, do not stand alone. Are there not many, many Mifflers guilty of the same absurdity, and equally unable with your reverend self to give any satisfactory reason for so doing, except that their predecessors have done it before them? Oh, ye hebdomadal boards, caputs, and convocations, explain all this! * * * * * "Yes, I assure you, Johnson, you never saw or heard of such a perfect fool in all your life. He literally thinks I am going to support him in idleness, and he doing nothing." "No!" "Yes! And, would you believe it, he called on poor Thompson, and tried to persuade him that I had behaved so shabbily to him that he really shall be obliged to cut me!" "No!" "Yes! and he told Brown, I owed him ever so much money." "No!" Johnson! _what do you do that for?_ Why in the name of common sense do you say No! no! no! when you thoroughly believe all that poor Dickson has been telling you? This is a peculiar custom. Philosophers, all of you, attend to it. It needs explanation. * * * * * "Here's an invitation again from that odious Mrs. Peewitt!" says the fair but excitable Mrs. Framp, as she opens a scented envelope, and extracts therefrom an elegant note. "Yes! here it is:-- "'Mrs. John George Peewitt requests the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. Framp's company to an evening party on Wednesday the --, at half-past eight.--Plover Lodge, Tuesday morning. An early answer will oblige.'" "Now, my dear Framp," continues his lady wife, "I literally hate and detest that abominable Mrs. Peewitt!" "Well, Laura, she is no favourite of mine, I promise you," retorts the male Framp: "and as to that Peewitt, he's a vulgar little brute. So you'd better answer it at once, Laura, declining it, you know--eh?" In the course of the same afternoon Mrs. J. G. Peewitt is gratified by the reception of this-- "Mrs. Framp _feels exceedingly grieved_ that she and Mr. Framp are unable to accept Mrs. J. G. Peewitt's kind invitation for Wednesday,----inst.--Grumpion Parade, Tuesday afternoon." Now Mrs. Framp, _what did you do that for_? Between you and me, and to speak in plain English--you are a story-teller, Mrs. Framp. A story-teller! And you, old gentleman--the man Framp I address--are equally guilty of the fib, as an accessory before the fact. Again, this is a prevalent custom. Philosophers, summon moralists to your aid, and descant on this subject. * * * * * "I am sure you sing, Mr. Frederick," says a pasty-faced individual of the 'female sect,' to a young gentleman in white satin waistcoat and red whiskers, who has been pottering about the piano for some time. "No, indeed, Miss Gromm!" he replies. "I assure you that I scarcely sing at all." "Oh! I am quite sure, now, you do sing. Pray do sing. Will you look over this music-book? there are a great many songs in it. I am sure you will find something that will suit you." "Oh! upon my word, Miss Gromm, I scarcely ever sing." Fred! you know you've brought all your music with you to-night, and have practised it carefully over with your pretty sister Bessy, purposely to sing at the Gromms'. Thus adjured, Mr. Frederick begins to turn over the leaves of the music-book, his eyes resting occasionally on such songs as 'The Rover's Bride,' 'The British Oak,' 'Wanted a Governess,' and other songs which Fred abominates. At last he turns to a very pretty girl sitting near him, and says faintly, "Bessy! did you bring any of _your_ music?" His sister, who has been watching his proceedings, in mute surprise answers innocently enough, "Oh! yes, Fred, I brought _all your songs_, you know!" Fred looks blue; but by the time the neat case containing them has been presented to him by a servant, he has recovered himself. Now, reader, what song do you suppose this young gentleman, who scarce sings at all, will select? You are a judge of music, and you pronounce his selection admirable--for it falls on 'Adelaide,' a song of which _I_ (but this quite _entre nous_) would sooner be the composer than of any song that ever was sung: but you fear lest Fred would not do justice to it, as he sings so seldom. You are wrong. A finer tenor, better taste, and more correct ear, one rarely meets with in private than are possessed by Fred. Every one exclaims that it is a treat to hear him sing. And so it is. Now, my excellent good Fred, _what the deuce did you do that for_? I mean, why did you lessen the pleasure which otherwise we should have all experienced, by giving us so unfavourable a view of your character at the outset--by fibbing, my friend--downright fibbing?--There are not a few Freddys, though of various degrees of excellence. This therefore is a practice which, as in the last case, calls for the investigation of moralists--aided by the Royal Academy of Music, perhaps. This is an endless subject. I have, as it were, but just touched upon it. Let others, their bosoms expanding at the thought of conferring endless benefits on the human race by so doing, rush eagerly and at once on the grand task of following it up. Let them explore all societies. Let an emissary be despatched into the crowded saloons of my Lady Hippington. Let an accredited and competent reporter be sent to the dinner-table of Mr. Titmouse, as well as into the doubtful regions of lower life. And let their desire be, to afford as strong, as cogent, and as rational explanations of the varied customs and practices with which they may become acquainted, as my friend Tam Ridley gave when asked for his reasons for using a peculiar form of speech. "Hoy, Jem!" said that individual, a jolly Yorkshire lad, as he pulled up his waggon opposite to a hostelrie in the North Riding,--"Hoy, Jem! what has't getten to sup te' 'morn?" "What has I getten to sup t' 'morn, Tam?" responded mine host, making his appearance in the doorway. "Ay, lad! what hast getten to sup, I say?" "Why a, I'se getten yal--dos't like yal, Tam?" "Ay! I does." "Why a then, wil't have a sup?" "Ay! I will." "Wil't have it _otted_, Tam?" "Ay! I will." "Why a, now, what maks thee say _Ay_ sae aften?" "Why a, then, _I'll mebbe say_ YES, _when t' days is langer and t' weather's warmer_!" LINES BY A Y--G L--Y OF F--SH--N, WHO "NEVER TOLD HER LOVE, BUT LET CONCEALMENT," ETC. "She speaks, yet she says _n--th--g_!"--R--O AND J--T. Go, bid the st--rs forget to shine, The o--n-tides to ebb and flow, Bid fl--rs forget to blush and pine, But bid not me to b--n--sh w--e! Thou canst not guess my s--rr--w's source, My pass--n's spring thou canst not see; Thou knowest not its depth and force,-- Thou dreamest not 'tis l--ve for th--! Fiercer than fires in Æ--a's breast My s--cr--t burns in this lone h--t; D--y brings no light, sl--p yields no rest, And h--vn no air, but where th-- art. I listen to the w--nds at night, They speak of th-- in whispers fine; In D--n's or Au--ra's light, I see no beauty, none but th--! All l--ve save mine's an idle tale Of Hy--n's torch and C--d's bow; I envy Cl--p--ra's wail, Or S--pho leaping, wild, below. For V--ry's _pâté_ holds for me-- Or G--nt--r's soup--no poison rare; And leaping from a b--lc--y, Were quite absurd--in Belg--ve Square. My s--st--r raves of H--w--ll, Ja--s, And thinks with dr--ss to ease my thrall; She deems not of d--vour--g flames Beneath one's f--fty-g--nea sh--wl! M--ma to M--rt--r and St--rr Drags me with sweet maternal haste; My p--rls of s--l they can't restore, Nor l--fe's bright d--m--ds, turn'd to paste! P--pa and br--th--r N--d would win My spirit forth to ball and rout; They think of course to t--ke me in-- Alas! they only t--ke me out! In vain R--b--ni's sweetness now, In vain Lab--che's boldest air; In vain M--cr--dy plays,--if th--, Th--, the Ad--r'd one, art not there! Whilst thou, unbless'd with st-ck or l-nd, Hast not one cr--wn per annum clear, Thou knowest not that--"here's my h-nd, With f-ft--n th--s--d p---ds a year." And _were_ it known, this pass--n wild, Then d--th would at my h--rt-st--gs tug! No, none shall know that th-- art styled, The H-n-r-ble Fr-nk F-tz M--gg! L. B. THE FROLICS OF TIME. A STRIKING ADVENTURE. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. How I came to find myself, at midnight and in the dark, stretched on a sofa in a strange house, is of no consequence to my story; yet for the prevention of all uncharitable surmises it may be as well to mention, that the young friend whom I had deemed it prudent to see safe home from Greenwich to Lewisham, had participated more freely than I had in the revelries that sometimes succeed to whitebait; and that, tired and sleepy, I had not irrationally preferred the scanty accommodation of a sofa, proffered by the old servant, the family being in bed, to a return to town on a wet and dreary night. "This will do very well," I said, drowsily glancing at the length of a sofa in a large room on the ground-floor; and released from my boots only, I declined the offer of bed-clothes, and declared that I should sleep without rocking. "No, no, pray don't leave the light," cried I, as the venerable domestic set down in the fire-place a huge old-fashioned candle-shade, through the numerous round holes of which a rushlight gloomily flickered.--"I hate that abominable invention; it's the only thing that _could_ keep me awake for two minutes. That'll do--shut the door--good night." "Got away sober after all!" I whispered approvingly to myself when thus left alone. "And what's better, I've got this wild, racketty young scapegrace safe home too;--early moreover, though he thinks it's so late;--I should never have dragged him away if I hadn't vowed by the beard of old Time that the church-clock had struck twelve three hours ago--but it's hardly twelve yet, I think--pledged my honour it was past two! Ah, well! Yaw-au!--ah!" And here my thoughts were silently settling upon another subject, previously to the last seal of sleep being fixed upon my lids, when my drowsy senses were disturbed by a dull, dead sound in the air--at no great distance from the house--it was the church-clock striking twelve. I counted the strokes. Midnight sure enough! And somehow at that moment it occurred to my mind that I had taken Time's name in vain rather too roundly, and had vowed by his sacred beard rather irreverently to say the least, when I protested three times over, that no soul living would hear the clock strike twelve again _that_ night! No matter--it was a fib told to serve a good purpose--a little bit of evil done quite innocently--the end sanctifies the means! And in the space of three seconds I was again more than half asleep, when another clock struck--another, nearer and clearer than the last. It was a large full-toned house-clock, fixed probably on the staircase or the hall, though I had not observed it on entering. Its sounds were prolonged and solemn. Again I counted the strokes--twelve; which I had no sooner done, than a third clock struck--nearer to me still, for it was evidently in the room, at the further end; and so sharp and quick in succession were the strokes, that to count them would have been difficult, even had I been less startled by them than I was. What a very curious clock! thought I; and during the second that was occupied by its striking, I raised my head and looked in the direction of the sound; the apartment might be miles or feet long, for aught that I could _see_. The curtains and shutters were closed--no scrap of the window was to be seen--no glimpse even of the dull damp night without was to be had. All was Darkness---- But not Silence; for before I could again shut my eyes, a clock began to strike, slowly, softly, in tones "most musical, most melancholy," right over my head, as though it were fixed to the wall only a few feet above me. Every sound was like the moan of a dying bird. I counted them--twelve as before. Yes, it was a clock that struck; it _must_ be a clock; and it was right almost to a minute, by the church. What was there wonderful in that? Nothing--only-- Hark! the chimes too at midnight! On a table almost within my reach, some merry Sprite seemed, to the ear of my imagination, performing a serenade to the lingering hour of Twelve. He struck up the chimes with such a lively grace, and echoed them with such a ringing laugh, that the twelve sounds which announced the hour when he ceased, lost all the usual monotony of tone, and said, not merely in melody, but almost as distinctly as words could have said it, "Twelve o'clock"--four times over. I jumped up--and sat for an instant, my drowsiness all gone and my eyes unusually wide open, looking into the darkness around me. I knew that there was a table close by, but neither table nor clock was visible in that utter gloom; not a trace of any form or figure could my straining sight discover. To grope my way six feet forward, and feel upon the surface of the table whether, among the ornaments which there, as in other parts of the room, I had carelessly noted when first shown in, a _clock_ was to be numbered, seemed easy enough; but scarcely had I stretched out, in fear and gentleness, one trembling hand upon that venturous errand, when I dropped back again upon the sofa, startled half out of my wits by the sudden striking of two more clocks, two at once--one loud, one low--apparently at opposite sides of the room; and before they had finished twelve strokes each, another, as though from a station in the centre of the chimney-piece, struck up "Meet me by moonlight," in notes the sweetest and silveriest imaginable, and the dozen strokes that followed were like the long plaintive tones of an Eolian harp. Before they were quite over, a peal of tiny bells began tinkling. Fairies tripping with bells at their feet could hardly have made lighter or quicker music. I began to think that a troop of that fabulous fraternity were actually in the apartment--that a host of little elves were capering about, not only with bells to their feet, but clocks to their stockings! "Can these be clocks?" I asked myself! "Whatever the others may be, this surely is no clock!"--But the unpleasant suspicion had no sooner crossed my brain, than the bell-ringing ceased, and one, two, three--yes, twelve fine-toned strokes of a clock were distinctly audible. "It _is_ a clock," I whispered--but this conviction scarcely lessened the mystery, which, though amusing, was ill-timed. I would have preferred any glimmer of a rushlight to darkness, and sleep to any musical entertainment. The wish had hardly time to form itself before another clock struck close by me, and between every stroke of the twelve came a sort of chirrup, which at a more suitable hour I should have thought the prettiest note in the world, but which was now considerably more provoking than agreeable. I looked, but still saw nothing. I put my hand out and felt about--it touched something smooth--glass, evidently glass--and the fear of doing damage would have been sufficient to deter me from prosecuting my researches in that direction, even if my attention had not been at that instant summoned away, by a sudden volley of sounds that made my very heart leap, and transfixed me to the couch breathless with wonder and alarm. This was the simultaneous striking of at least half-a-dozen more clocks in various parts of the room. Some might be large, and some tiny enough, some open and some inclosed in cases; for the tones were manifold, and of different degrees of strength; but no two clocks--if clocks they were, which I doubted, were constructed on the same principle, for each seemed to strike upon a plan of its own--and yet all went on striking together as though doomsday had arrived, and each was afraid of being behind time, and too late to proclaim the fact! One of these, a very slow coach, kept striking long after the others had ceased; and before this had finished, off went a clock in the corner that was furthest from me, sending such a short sharp, rapid sound into the apartment, that I strained my eyes yet a little wider than ever, half in expectation of being able to see it. On it went striking--"six"--"nine, ten"--"twelve, thirteen!" What! "nineteen, twenty!" There was no mistake in the reckoning--"twenty-four!" What, twice twelve! Yes, three times and four times twelve! Still it went on striking;--strike, strike, strike! How I wished, in that darkness, that it would strike a light! Still the same sound; one monotonous metallic twang reverberating through the room, and repeating itself as though it were impossible to have too much of a good thing. That clock seemed to be set going for ever--to be wound up for eternity instead of time. It appeared to be labouring under the idea that doomsday had indeed arrived--that it was no longer necessary to note and number the hours accurately--that the family of the Clocks were free--that the old laws which governed them were abolished--and that every member of the body was at liberty to strike as long as it liked, and have a jolly lark in its own way! Strike, strike--still it persevered in its monotony, till, just as I had made up my mind that it would never stop, it stopped at about a hundred and forty-four, having struck the hour twelve times over. But two or three more competitors, whether from the walls of the room, from the chimney-piece, or the tables, had set out practising with wonderful versatility before the lengthened performance just alluded to had quite concluded; nor was it until nearly half-an-hour had elapsed since the church clock, the leader of the strike, had struck twelve--the hour which I had declared by the beard of old Father Time to be passed and gone--that an interval of silence occurred, and peace again prevailed through the intense darkness of the apartment. Yet, can I call it peace? It was only peace comparatively; for my ear now sensitively awake to catch even the faintest whisper of a sound, and all my senses nervously alive in expectation of another convulsion amongst the clock-work, I became conscious of noises going on around me, to which, on first lying down, free from suspicion of the near neighbourhood of mystery, my ear was utterly insensible. I detected the presence of a vast multitude of small sounds distributed through the room, and repeating themselves regularly with singular distinctness as I listened. My pulse beat quicker, my eyes rolled anxiously and then closed; but those minute noises, clear and regular, went on in endless repetition, neither faster nor slower. Were they indeed the tickings of a hundred clocks--the fine low inward breathings of Time's children! The speculation, little favourable to sleep, was suddenly cut short by another crash of sound, breaking in upon the repose; it was half-past twelve, and of the scores of clocks that had announced the midnight hour, one half now announced the march of thirty minutes more--some by a simple ding-dong, some by a single loud tick, others by chimes, and one or two by a popular air, or a sort of jug-jug like a nightingale. Again I started up and listened--again I essayed to grope my way about the room, to find out by the test of touch, whether the place was indeed filled with time-pieces and chronometers, Dutch repeaters and eight-day clocks. But so completely had the noises bewildered me, that I knew not which way to turn, and had I dared to wander, at the hazard of overturning some fancy table or curious cabinet, I should never have found my way back to my couch again. Down upon it, therefore, I once more threw myself, and conscious still of the multitudinous tickings that seemed to people the apartment with sprites, not a span long, dancing in fetters, invoked kind nature's restorer, balmy sleep, and at length, nearly exhausted, dropped into a doze. This was but short-lived; for my ears remained apprehensively opened, although my eyes were sealed, and the pealing sound of the church-clock striking one awoke me again to a disagreeable anticipation of another general strike. Once more I sought to penetrate with anxious gaze the profound darkness before me. "Was it all a delusion?" I exclaimed. "Have I been dreaming? Is the room actually filled with clocks, or am I the victim of enchantment?" The answer came from the outside of the room--from the huge family dispenser of useful knowledge--the clock on the staircase, whose lengthened uhr-r-r-r-rh, preparatory to the stroke of one, was a warning worthy of the sonorous announcement. I felt it strike upon my heart--it convinced me that I had not dreamt--it foretold all--and I knew that the Spirits of the Clock would immediately be at work again. And to work they went fast enough--chimes and chirrups, merry-bells and moanings of birds--sometimes the cuckoo's note, sometimes the owl's hoot--the trickling of water-drops imitated now, and now the rattling of silver fetters--here a scrap of a melody, and there a shrill whistling cry;--all followed, in a tone thin or full, loud or weak, according to the construction of the unseen instrument--by the single stroke, proclaiming the hour of one! I sank back, with my eyes close shut, and my hands covering up my ears. What a long night had I passed in a single hour!--how many hours were yet to be counted before light, piercing the gloom, would reveal the mystery of the clocks, and point the way to deliverance--that is, to the door. At last there was quiet again, the tickings only excepted, which continued low and regular as before. Sleep crept over me, interrupted only by the chimes, and other musical intimations at the quarters and the half-hour. And then came two o'clock, awaking me once more to a conviction that the hundred clocks--_if_ clocks--were wound up for the night; or that the spirits who were playing off their pranks--possibly in revenge for my "innocent imposition" touching the flight of Time, and my irreverence towards the beard of that antiquarian--were resolved to show me no mercy. Off they went, clock after clock--silver, copper, and brass all spoke out, separately and in concert--wheels within wheels went round, chain after chain performed its appointed functions--hammers smote, and bells rang--and then, at last, fidgetted out of my senses, and "fooled to the top of my bent," sleep as before came to my aid; broken at intervals; and at intervals bringing visions of Time chained to the wall, and unable to stir a foot--of Time flying along upon a railroad fifty miles an hour, leaving Happiness behind mounted on a tortoise--of Time's forelock, by which I would have fondly taken him, coming off in my hand because he wore a wig--of Time shaving off his reverend beard, and starting away at the beginning of a new year, a gay, smart, glowing juvenile! * * * I found out in the morning that my young friend's father was that oddest of oddities, a collector of clocks--that he had a passion for them, seeking out a choice clock as a connoisseur seeks out a choice picture--that he was continually multiplying his superfluities--that he boasted clocks of every form and principle, down to the latest inventions--clocks that played the genteelest of tunes, and clocks that struck the hour a dozen times over as many different ways--and that there were eighty-five, more or less calculated to strike, in the apartment wherein I had--_slept_; in the Clockery! A PEEP POETIC AT THE AGE. BY A. BIRD. Oh when I was a little boy, how well I can remember, The jolly day we had upon the fifth of each November! But now the march of intellect has changed the matter quite, And Boyhood's day of merriment is turned to sober night: His hoops are made of iron, like our ships upon the seas; From infancy to manhood now--from elephants to fleas[18], All life is hurry-scurry--toil--trouble, and contentions: Oh, what an age we live in! with its wonderful inventions! But yesterday--and granite paved our good old London town, Now patent wood is all the go--and nothing else goes down, Excepting horses by the score, yet that's a trifle too-- We only wait perfection in a "horse's patent shoe." We talk by electricity--we've got an infant "Steam" Who smokes, and with an iron rod he drives a pretty team, And a pretty pace he goes! the boy! and a pretty power is his! Beware, my gentle reader, or he'll flatten out your phiz. Oh, what an age is this! how very wonderful and new! Our bridges once were always square, now half are built askew. Our horses once were taught to draw a something at their tails, A coach, or cart, or gig--but now, another mode prevails; The horse is _trained_ to stand within a carriage of his own, And while he eats a bit of hay some forty miles are done. There are wonders upon wonders whichever way one peeps; They say _our_ poor are starving, yet, _Lascars_ are turned to sweeps. Our cattle-shows are wonders too--the fat out-weighs the meat, Which is, no doubt, for tallow good--detestable to eat!-- Oh, what an age is this--for beasts!--how wonderful and new With wire just fit for binding corks, we've built a bridge at Kew[19]! [20]Breakwaters now are taught to float, and (per comparison, id est) They'll cost the nation but a song, yet be much better than the best, (To say thus much--this wonder tell--I know those lines exceed, But when the _Piper's_ paid by _Bull_, for extra feet I plead;) To[21]_Maccheroni_ 'taties change! your Niger men declare (For want of something better, _q_?) "they are the best of fare." Young _steam_ has swamped the wherries, which is "wery" sad for those Who tell unto "the Funny Club" their miserable woes "How steamers run the river down--and boats by hundreds too"-- "In this inwentive, vicked hage"--so wonderful and new! Exchequer bills were sometime held much safer than the Bank, Now holders find they've only held a monstrous ugly blank. The very piles[22] which once were driven one inch within the hour, Now go the pace, the railroad pace! by some mechanic power. Within a little--ay--alas! and ere its pipes are old, Bright Bude will come and Gas will pass, "e'en as a tale that's told." Then we shall see!--I wonder what! 'tis dazzling quite to think, "I'm downright dizzy with the thought"--I'm standing on a brink, It turns my brain! this age so economical and new, When tories, like our steamers, try--to go the pace, and--_screw_! "And said I that my eyes were dim" with glories dazzling bright! When I confess my rising thoughts, you'll say that well they might. This age, methought, this wondrous age must understand the thing, Since England's Queen--our blessed Queen--outshines each former King! May Heaven unite this wondrous age in one harmonic whole! I pray and hope--and think it will--I do upon my soul. E'en hand-bills match the mighty _Times_; tho' strip them from the walls, Miss Kemble and her Norma would soon paper up St. Paul's. God bless, say I, the Queen I love--her loving subjects too-- And with this universal prayer I bid the age--adieu! FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 18: Vide "the industrious fleas"--play-acting elephants, &c., &c., &c.] [Footnote 19: This, I fear, is a poetic fiction, but nearer the truth than usual--the wire suspension bridge is at Hammersmith.] [Footnote 20: Vide Capt. Tayler's Prospectus for floating breakwaters--an invention which really promises to save our ships and purses too.] [Footnote 21: Taste and try the "granulated potato," which in its way, promises much! I have seen a letter from the Niger Expedition wherein it is praised up to the African skies.] [Footnote 22: This may be seen in action on the Surry side of the river opposite Hungerford Market--that is, when you can get there without being drowned in the floods.] A STILL-LIFE SKETCH. "Still, still I love thee,--love thee, love thee, still."--_La Sonnambula_ He stood among the mossy rocks Beside a Highland waterfall, And wrung his hands and tore his locks, And cursed the gaugers one and all. Behind him was a ruined hut, Its walls were levell'd with the ground, And broken rafters black with soot, And staves of tubs, were scatter'd round. With streaming eyes adown the glen He fix'd his gaze--I look'd, and lo! Along the road a band of men, With horse and cart, were moving slow. Upon my life, it made me shiver To hear him shriek with frantic yell, "Fare-thee-well,--and if for ever. _Still_, for ever fare-thee-well!" SHOLTO. A TALE OF AN INN. "Uncommon high the wind be tonight, sure-ly," remarked the occupier of the seat of honour on the left side of the fire-place in the Jolly Drummer, on the night of a boisterous 31st of March--"uncommon;" and as he spoke he uncrossed his legs, and resting his left hand which held his long pipe upon his knee, stretched out his right to a little triangular table that stood before the fire, stirred a more than half-finished tumbler of warm rum-and-water which was standing on one of the corners, shook the drops off the spoon, and having placed it on the table, raised the tumbler to his mouth, and in another minute set it down again empty, save the thin slice of lemon which had been floating about in the liquor. Having done this, he threw himself back in his seat, tucked his feet under it, and there crossed them, wriggled his right hand into his breeches' pocket, and resting his left elbow on the arm of the high-backed form or "settle" on which he was seated, puffed away in quiet enjoyment of his pipe. Per--per--per. "It do blow above a bit, and that's all about it," returned a little man who was seated in an old Windsor chair opposite, as, having filled his pipe, he commenced lighting it with a piece of half-burnt paper that he had taken from the hob, and spoke between the strong puffs of smoke which curled upwards from his mouth during the operation. "I never--per--per--remember--per--sich a night--per--per--as this here--per--leastways for the time o'year--per--per--per--but once, per--and that was," said he, having now got his pipe well lighted, and letting himself gradually sink back in his chair, "and that was in the year--'37, when, as you remember, Master Tyler," looking at his friend opposite, "the mails was all snow'd up; but that was a trifle earlier in the year too, that was--let me see--oh ay, werry little tho'; why it was on the--yes, it was, on the 24th of this very month, and so it was." "Ay, ay," replied Tyler, "I remember it, be sure I do; and, bless you, I thought ve vas all a-going to be fruz up in our beds, as sure as I'm a-sitting here. But now, vhat I vas a-thinking of, vas, that this here night never comes round but what I thinks of what happened to me vun blowing 31st o' March. It makes me shake a'most, too, a-thinking on it," continued he, looking up at a large tadpole-looking clock, which, with its octangular face, assured all the company that it wanted but a quarter of an hour of midnight. "What was that?" exclaimed all the circle; "give us that tale, Master Tyler, a-fore we parts." "Vell, then," said Tyler, touching his empty glass, "let's prepare for it." Upon this hint, one of the party, the host of the Jolly Drummer himself, rapped the table with his broad fist and shouted "Hollo there," which process brought upon the scene "Mary, the Maid of the Inn," whom Master Tyler requested to fill his glass, and "do the same for that gem'man opposite." She accordingly retired with the empty glasses, and as she is now out of the room, which we know to be the case from the whir-r-r-r bang! of the weighted door, we will take the opportunity before she comes back of describing the house and company. The Jolly Drummer was a small public-house at the extreme end of a little scattered village; its situation on the verge of an extensive heath, and detached from the other cottages, would have given it a lonely appearance but for its background of a few trees, and two or three old stunted oaks before the door, between two of which was the horse-trough, and from the branches of the third swang the old and weather-beaten sign, creaking to and fro in the wind; the hay scattered about the trough, or whirled in air by the wind, and the wicker crate which stood at the door by the side of the mounting steps, together with a pail and mop, gave indications of a pretty-well frequented house. If anything more was wanting to establish the fact, on this night, besides two or three light carts, a heavy stage-waggon might be seen rearing its giant bulk against the dark sky with its shafts erect, and the unlit stable-lantern still skewered in the front. The interior presented a more lively and comfortable appearance, at least in the room with which we are principally concerned. Here a fire of a few coals, overlaid with large logs, crackled and spluttered in the grate round which the party was assembled, two of whom we have already introduced. Upon the same high-backed form or settle, on which Master Tyler sat, were seated three other men, two of whom belonged to the waggon without, and the third was a small short man, who said little, but seemed to imbibe all Master Tyler uttered with great reverence. On the opposite side of the fire, besides the little man in the Windsor chair, were two others, the one the blacksmith, and the other the cobbler of the village. Sitting opposite to the fire, and so as to complete the circle round it, sat the stout landlord himself, looking round at his guests and attending to their wants (as we have seen) with the consciousness of being "well-to-do" in the world. On the little triangular table stood a quart mug "imperial measure;" a brass candlestick, bent through age, holding a thin tallow candle: a large pair of snuffers, lying by their side bottom upwards, was scored with the marks of a bit of chalk, half-crushed among the tobacco ashes, and a dirty pack of cards, gave the observer every proof that the two waggoners had but lately been engaged in the favourite game of "all-fours." The room in which this company had met was low and square, boasting as furniture a few Windsor chairs, a square deal table edged with iron, and supported by trussel-like legs, in addition to the before-mentioned little triangular one, another of which latter description was seen in a distant corner, a dresser standing against the wall opposite the fire, and a tall cupboard by its side; the window on the left side of the room was shaded by a checked curtain, which waved mournfully under the influence of the gusts of wind that managed to find their way through the closed lattice. A few such pictures as "the lovely florist," and the "happy fruiterer," with rounded limbs and flowing drapery, painted with bright colours on glass, decorated the walls, and the mantel-shelf was decked with the usual ornaments of peacocks' feathers, brass candlesticks, tin stands for pipe-lighters, flour and pepper-boxes, a coffee-pot, and two lines painted on the wall recording, with the day and date, how "Thomas Swipes, Jacob Swillby, and James Piper, drank at one sitting in this room twelve quarts of ale." Such was the room and its contents on the 31st March, 18--, and a blowing night it was. The whir-r-r-bang again of the door announces Mary to have returned with the replenished glasses, and as she is retiring she is arrested by the voice of Master Tyler, who calls out to her--"Vait a bit, Mary, I knows you're fond of a tale; you may as vell sit down and listen, for I dare say you never heerd a better, tho' I says it, and that's a fact--that's to say, if the company has no objections," added Tyler. They all seemed to agree with Master Tyler in admitting Mary into the circle, and accordingly made room for her next to her master, the host. All these preliminaries being arranged, Master Tyler having just tasted his new glass of grog, thus began:-- "Let me see, it vas about the year 1817 ven I fust vent to be ostler at the Vite Swan, Stevenage, for I _vas_ a ostler vonce, gem'men, that I vas; you remember the time, Juggles?" continued he, addressing the little man opposite (who answered with an "ay," and a nod of the head). "Old Dick Styles used to vork the Old Highflier thro' Stevenage at that time, and _he_ vos as good a coachman as here and there vun; but howsumever, that ain't got nothink to do vith my story. I vas a-saying it was my fust night in the yard, and in course I had to pay my footin'. Vell, old Tom Martin was the boots; he as come arterwards to our place, you know, Juggles?" ("Ay," answered the little man again, as he looked meditatingly at the fire;) "and me and him," continued Tyler, "sat up in the tap a-drinking and smoking and that, and a precious jolly night of it ve had, I can tell you! There vas Peter Scraggs, and as good a chap he vos as ever stepped, and vun or two more good jolly coves as you'd vish to see; vell, ve got a chaffin, and that like, ven Tom says to me, says he, 'Tyler,' ses he, 'you arn't been here long,' ses he, 'but maybe you've a heerd o' that old chap up yonder.' 'Vot old chap?' ses I. 'Vhy him on his beam-ends,' ses he a-laughing, and all the t'others laughed too, for I heerd arterwards that that vas his joke. 'Veil,' ses I, 'as I vas never here afore, t'aint _werry_ likely as I have heerd of 'un; but who is he?' 'Vhy,' ses he, 'he vas an old grocer as lived in this here town o' Stevenage,' ses he, 'years and years ago,' ses he; 'and left in his vill[23] vhen he died,' ses he, 'that he vouldn't be buried, not he, but be box'd up in his coffin and highsted up a-top o' the beams of his "hovel," as _he_ called it; but a barn it is, that's sartain,' ses he. 'Nonsense,' ses I; 'you ain't a-going to come over me in that there style vith your gammon,' ses I. 'Gammon or no,' ses Tom, 'if you've a mind you may see him yourself,' ses he; leastvays you may see his oak coffin,' ses he. 'Seein's believin',' ses I, 'all over the world,' ses I, 'so here goes;' and up I gets, and Tom, he gets up too, and vun or two others, and ve goes out; and Tom, he catches holdt of a stable lantern, and picks up vun o' them poles with a fork at the end--them things vot the vashervomen hangs their lines upon ven they dries the clothes--and ve valks into a stable-like place as had been a barn, and Tom he hooks the lantern on to the pole, and holds it up, and there sure enough _vos_ the coffin, a stuck up in the roof a top o' two beams. "It's as true as I'm a-sitting here," continued Tyler, as he observed symptoms of incredulity in some of his auditors; "it's as true as I'm a-sitting here; and vot's more, you may see it there yourselves in that werry place to this werry day if you like to go as far. Vel, as I vos a saying, I looks up, and ses I, 'I'm blessed if it ain't a coffin,' ses I. 'Ay,' says Tom and the others, 'now you'll believe it, von't you?' 'Sartainly I vill,' ses I, 'now I sees it; but I'm blow'd if I didn't think you had been a-going on with some game or another,' ses I. "Vell, ve come back agen to the tap, and ve sat there a-talking over that there old man and his rum fancy of being cocked up there, and vot not, till ve'd had enough, and thought it time to be off; it was then about half-past eleven. So Tom says, ses he, 'I'll show you vhere you are to hang out, Tyler,' ses he; so he takes me out in the yard and shows me my nest over the stable, and I'm blessed if it warn't the wery next to the vun with the old man. 'Pretty close company,' ses I to myself, 'anyhow;' but howsumdever I never _said_ nothink, not I, in case he should think that I was afeerd arter vot he'd a' been saying and that; so up I goes vith the lantern, up the ladder, but I couldn't for the life of me help a-thinking of old Harry Trigg, (that vos the old feller's name, him in the coffin.) Vel, however, I turns in at last, and I hadn't been in bed more nor ten minutes at most, ven I heerd a kind of a----" "Mercy! what's that!" exclaimed Mary, as the sign-board outside seemed to take part in the tale, and groan uneasily in the wind. "Don't be foolish, Mary," said my host, scarcely less frightened; "what should it be but the old sign? Don't interrupt Master Tyler again, there's a good lass." "Vell, I heerd a kind of a creak," resumed the speaker, with a scarcely perceptible smile, "and I listened, and presently I thought I heerd a groan. Vell, I didn't much like it, I can tell you; however, I thought as it vos all imaginairy like, and vos jist a turning round in my bed to get a more comfortabler position--" "Snuff the candle," suggested Juggles to the blacksmith in a low tone, who did it mechanically, scarcely taking his eyes off the speaker the while. "Vhen I heerd a woice," (here there was a breathless silence among the auditors,) "I heerd a woice, a low woice it vere, say, wery slowly, 'I don't like it.' Vell, ven I heerd the woice, I gets a bit more plucky like; 'for,' thinks I, 'arter all it may be some vun in difficulties.' So I ses, ses I, 'Vot's the row, sir?' 'Tyler,' ses the woice, a'-calling me by name, 'Tyler,' ses he, 'I vish I hadn't done it.' 'Done vot?' ses I; for since he culled me by my name I vos a little quieter. 'Vy,' ses the woice, 'a' got myself cocked up here,' ses he. Ses I, 'Vhy don't you get down then?' ses I. ''Cause I can't,' ses he. 'Vhy not?' ses I. ''Cause I'm screwed down in my coffin,' ses he." Here a scream, half-suppressed, broke from Mary. "'My eye!' ses I to myself, and I shook all over--'it's the old man hisself,' and I pops my head under the bed-clothes precious quick, I can tell you; for I vos in a bit of a stew, as you may guess. Vell, presently I heerd the old man a calling out again; but I never answered a vord, not I. Vell, arter that I hears a kind of a rustling and scratching on the t'other side o' the planks close to vhere I vos a-laying. 'That's him,' thinks I; 'but he can't come here, that's clear.' 'Can't I tho'!' says the werry same woice close to my feet, this time. Oh crickey, how I did shake sure-ly at that there. 'Tyler!' ses he, calling out loud. 'Tyler,' ses he, 'look up;' but bless you, I never spoke nor moved. 'Tyler,' ses he agen, a-hollering for all the vorld as loud as thunder, 'John Tyler look up! or it'll be the vurse for you.' So at that I puts the werry top o' my eyes over the bed-clothes, and there I saw----" "What?" exclaimed the blacksmith and cobbler, under their breath at the same instant. The narrator looked around; Juggles was leaning forward in his chair, his open hand scarce holding his pipe, which, in the eagerness of his curiosity he had let out; the blacksmith and cobbler were, with eyes and mouth wide open, intently watching the speaker's face; mine host, with both fists on the table, was not a whit less anxious; Mary was leaning on the shoulder of one of the waggoners, with outstretched neck towards Tyler, drinking in every word he uttered; and the two waggoners, perfectly wrapped up in the tale, stared vacantly at the opposite wall. "What?" repeated the anxious hearers. Master Tyler took his pipe from his mouth, and puffing out a long wreath of smoke, at the same time pointing with his pipe to the clock, which was just on the quarter past twelve, said--"NOTHINK! AND YOU'RE ALL APRIL FOOLS!" ALI. [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 23: This will was proved in the archdeaconry of Huntingdon, Sept. 18, 1724.] "SUCH A DUCK!" Once Venus, deeming Love too fat, Stopp'd all his rich ambrosial dishes, Dooming the boy to live on chat, To sup on songs, and dine on wishes. Love, lean and lank, flew off to prowl-- The starveling now no beauty boasted-- He could have munch'd Minerva's owl, Or Juno's peacock, boil'd or roasted. At last, half famish'd, almost dead, He shot his Mother's Doves for dinner; Young Lillie, passing, shook her head-- Cried Love, "A shot at you, young sinner!" "Oh not at me!"--she urged her flight-- "I'm neither dove, nor lark, nor starling!" "No"--fainting Cupid cried--"not quite; But then--you're such a--duck--my darling!" L. B. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER XI. An awful but instructive scene is the death-bed of the guilty. Shipkins experienced, by anticipation, the agonizing terrors of a future state. Despair took possession of his mind; but it was the despair of the coward who trembles to meet his judge, and not that of the penitent, who, prompted by hope, implores for mercy. He had lived a desperate life of crime, and his hearers shuddered as vivid recollection of the past seemed to flash upon him like sudden visions forcing him to reveal the enormities he had perpetrated. His account, as far as it went, of Lieutenant Heartwell, was briefly this,--that Brady coveted his wealth for the double purpose of enriching himself, and carrying on those treasonable practices in which he was deeply involved--on the day of the lieutenant's disappearance, he had, after the departure of the bank agent, been encouraged to drink--the wine was drugged, and took its full effect. Shipkins had himself personated Heartwell in the hackney-coach affair, having previously stripped the lieutenant, and substituted the naval uniform for his own apparel,--and the evidence given by the coachman was perfectly correct. After alighting in Ormond Street, Shipkins crossed over into Great Ormond Yard, where he concealed himself in one of the stables which had been taken for the occasion, having a light cart and horse in readiness to further their schemes. Here he was shortly afterwards joined by Brady with his clothes, for which the lieutenant's were immediately exchanged, the horse was put into the cart, they drove to Lincoln's Inn, and having deposited Mr. Heartwell in it, they conveyed him--still in an insensible state--as well as the notes, gold, and documents, to the very cottage they were then in. Here a sudden spasm seized the dying man--he gasped convulsively--an internal hemorrhage was going on, that threatened suffocation,--and it may readily be supposed, that intense anxiety pervaded every one present. Mrs. Heartwell had listened almost breathlessly,--every word that was uttered made its due and deep impression on her heart--she sat like a statue--no relieving tear started to her eye, for the fever of agonised expectation had dried the source of tears--no sigh, no groan escaped her, till the expiring Shipkins stopped, and then extending her hands, as she looked at the contorted and ghastly features of the clerk, her voice found utterance, and clasping her hands in earnest entreaty, she exclaimed,-- "Oh, let him not die--hold--hold--yet, a little longer life that he may tell us all. Heavenly Father, in pity spare him, till his conscience is unburthened, and then in mercy pardon his offences." Frank supported his mother, and tried to calm her perturbation, though his own spirit was on the rack, as he now concluded that his conjectures were correct, and beneath the same roof which they were then under, his gallant father had been murdered. It was a moment of trying suspense to all, and eagerly they watched the surgeon exercise his skill, as, raised up by Ben, the close of Shipkins' career seemed fast approaching--they had as yet heard nothing of the lieutenant's fate, nor had any information been rendered relative to Brady's place of concealment, and what had been communicated served rather to excite greater agitation than to allay that which had already been caused. The surgeon had requested every one to remain silent, and the stillness was only broken by himself as he gave directions to Ben, (but even these were given in whispers,) and the struggles of the dying man, who, grasping at the air, as if he would clutch another victim, muttered unconnected sentences. It was an appalling spectacle--loud and piercing was his shriek as he caught Ben's arm, and grasped it with a desperate grasp, as the only stay in life,--wild and imploring was his look as he tried to speak, but the words could not find utterance. It was only for a moment--a yell of agony succeeded, and in a few minutes his limbs were stiffening in the rigidity of death. But what language can picture the distress of Mrs. Heartwell and her son, at the disclosure's being so prematurely cut off, and that too in so fearful a manner! Frank tried to lessen the disappointment and grief of his parent; but she who had all along cherished hope, now enfeebled by circumstances that had preyed upon her mind, and weighed down by the pressure of the evidence which Shipkins had given, seemed sinking into despair. It was past midnight when the wretched man ceased to exist. No one thought of repose, except the surgeon, who accustomed to witness the flight of the departed spirit, retired to his home; but Mr. Wendover remained at the cottage, endeavouring to tranquillise the lady's mind. Morning had not yet broke, when the sound of horses' hoofs were heard upon the common; but they suddenly ceased at the garden-gate, and the bell was violently rung. Frank and Ben grasped their pistols, and immediately went out to answer the summons. The horseman had dismounted, and being questioned, said "he was the bearer of a letter to Lieutenant Heartwell that required instant attention." The letter was handed through the bars--Frank saw that the superscription was addressed to himself, and breaking the seal, he ascertained that the signature was that of Mr. Unity Peach. The letter was characteristic of the writer, and ran thus:-- "SIR,--Strange doings--caught sight of Brady last night--pursued (chased, you would call it)--followed him to a house in Hoxton--madhouse--sent for the constables, and put them on watch--cannot enter without a warrant--they will not open the doors.--Hasten hither (bear a hand, you would say)--let us have no delays--the badger is trapped at last, and it will require a good dog to draw him.--The bearer of this will tell you whereabouts to find me. Yours, UNITY PEACH." There was nothing in this curious epistle that might not be communicated to Mrs. Heartwell, and Frank at once related the occurrence, and urged the necessity of his immediate compliance. His mother not only acquiesced, but wished to accompany him, and probably would have done so, had not Mr. Wendover dissuaded her from it. The pony-chaise was put in requisition, but the merchant sent to the Hall for his own post-chariot, in which himself and Frank departed, the messenger riding on before as conductor. A gloomy daylight had opened on them when they reached their destination--a small public-house--where they found Mr. Peach, who was impatiently awaiting their arrival. From him they learned that he had on the previous afternoon been to a lunatic asylum in the neighbourhood of Hoxton, for the purpose of visiting "Brothers the Prophet" (who had been removed thither during some temporary repairs at Fisher's), and did not leave that place till late in the evening, when on passing out at the gates, a man alighted from horseback, his face ashy pale, with a small stream of blood running down it; he was much bespattered with mud, as if he had fallen, and was evidently in a state of great excitement; the horse, too, appeared to have been ridden hard. Mr. Peach had to draw himself up on one side to allow of his passing, and the porter holding up his lantern in order to ascertain who the visitor was, revealed to Mr. Peach the features of Brady--especially as on observing him there was the strange and peculiar expression of the eye. The first impulse of the detector was to seize the lawyer, but his usual caution arrested his hand, and he suffered him to pass onward, which as soon as he had done, the porter led in the horse, and Mr. Peach having walked out, the gates were closed behind him. Certain of the personal identity, and pondering the circumstance in his mind, the old gentleman determined to watch till some one should pass whom he might employ in sending for a constable, but it was long before any one approached that lonely and dreary abode. At length the horn of the night-patrol (who volunteered for recompense to conduct passengers across the fields) was heard, and Mr. Peach ran towards him and communicated his earnest request that an efficient force might be immediately sent to apprehend a felon who had taken shelter at a residence in the neighbourhood. This was accompanied by a present of money, with the promise of still greater reward, both public and private, if the villain was apprehended. The patrol performed his duty, and in a short time several peace-officers were in attendance, and an attempt was made to gain admission into the house, but without avail; its iron-barred windows and strong doors set attack at defiance. The constables had consequently been placed upon the watch round the building all night, to prevent escape. Such was the position of affairs when Frank and Mr. Wendover arrived. The merchant resolved to act in his official capacity, and demand an entrance. They were soon at the doors, and a summons being given, Mr. Wendover explained the object of their visit. The porter, in reply, declared that no person of the name of Brady was there, nor was he at all acquainted with the individual alluded to. "False!" exclaimed Mr. Unity Peach, "saw him myself--went in as I came out last night--muddy, dirty--cut face--know him well." "That gentleman, sir," replied the porter, "that was Mr. Bartlett, the principal proprietor of this establishment." Looks of doubt and perplexity passed between Frank and Mr. Wendover; and the latter, after a short hesitation, remarked, "If that is the case he can have no objection to grant us an interview." "I fear," returned the man, "that you cannot see him; he had a severe fall last night from his horse, and is much injured in the head--indeed is now almost insensible." Mr. Wendover once more questioned Peach, and the latter persisted in the most positive manner that it was Brady whom he had seen go in. "Well, then, it is utterly useless delaying," said the merchant; "and I now as a magistrate demand an entrance: if it is not complied with, I will upon my own responsibility force the doors." "I will consult my superior," said the porter, returning from the gate. In a few minutes he returned, and stated that he was directed to give free admission to the magistrate, and a few whom he might select to accompany him. A strange feeling came over Frank as he entered this abode of tortured spirits; for the mad-houses of those days were seldom inspected, and many a victim to avarice and villany had been confined within their walls[24]. The secrets of the "prison-house" were never disclosed, for the unhappy creatures were incarcerated for life; sometimes they would indeed be driven mad, but death alone gave them release from torment. A respectable-looking elderly man met the party, and after apologies and explanations, announced that "Mr. Bartlett's injuries from his fall were very serious, and throughout the night he had been labouring under an attack of brain-fever, which he hoped was subsiding, though he was still subject to restraint." "I have only the furtherance of justice in view," said Mr. Wendover; "he has been sworn to in the most positive manner, and I must see him." "The appearance of so many persons may be hazardous to his existence," replied the other submissively; "if it is a mere matter of identity, more than two or three will not be required." The arrangement was made, and Mr. Wendover, Mr. Peach, and Frank, were conducted through several passages, till they arrived in a part of the building where the most violent maniacs were confined; here in an apartment, whose entrance might have almost defied detection, they beheld a man in a strait-waistcoat, stretched upon a mattress upon the ground with two keepers in attendance to awe him into subjection. His countenance was haggard and flushed, and there was a tiger-like ferocity in his look, that claimed but little semblance to humanity; he was still raving, and his wild unnatural laugh thrilled with horror through the frames of the visitors. Mr. Wendover and Unity Peach were the first to enter, but he took no notice of them. Frank followed; and the moment he was visible, the individual whom they had come to see drew himself up as if his whole frame were withering with sudden blight, and he convulsively and hissingly drew his breath, like one who has suddenly been plunged into cold water. "What! there again?" muttered he, as he fixed his gaze on Frank, whose strong likeness to his father, and in the naval uniform too, had induced a belief that the spirit of his victim stood in his presence; whilst the peculiar rolling of the man's eyes instantly betrayed that Brady was before them; "but," and he laughed wildly, "I defy you--the judge cannot take the evidence of the dead." He raised his voice--"Hence--depart, I say--no earthly tribunal can take cognizance of your oath, and so far I am safe." He turned to Peach and demanded--"Who and what are you?--how came you here?--who has dared to let you in?--speak--who are you?" Slowly Mr. Peach removed his hat and wig, and the patch from his eye. "I knew I was right," said he: "Brady, do you know me now?" "Well, well," returned the lawyer quietly, "this is kind of you, too--more than I expected--but how did you find me out--come, come, friend Shaft, sit down; we will not heed yon spectre," his aberration took another turn. "Ha," he shouted, "it is you who have betrayed me, old man; traitor! monster! it is you who have denounced your friend. Acteon Shaft, I defy you to the very teeth." "It is enough that you now recognise me," responded the other; and turning to Mr. Wendover, added, "You may perceive, sir, that my information was correct." Brady's ravings and struggles became dreadful; the attendants could with difficulty hold him down till overwrought nature brought a crisis, and he sank in strong convulsions. The young lieutenant's feelings it would be impossible to describe, as he looked upon the supposed murderer of his father, and fears began to arise that he should again be deprived of the information he so earnestly desired. An hour elapsed before Brady was recovered from his fit, which left him weak and exhausted, but restored to consciousness and to a sense of his perilous situation: still the inveterate and hardened criminal was unsubdued, and retained all the craftiness of his character. Mr. Wendover addressed him in energetic language. Frank earnestly implored him to reveal all he knew of the fate of his parent, but the wily man "denied all knowledge of the lieutenant beyond placing him in the hackney-coach." "Shipkins has been taken," said Mr. Wendover, "and he has confessed--?" "What, what has he confessed?" eagerly demanded the lawyer; and then slowly added, "His confessions are worth nothing; I do not fear them; leave me to myself, and let the law take its course." "Brady! Brady!" exclaimed Unity Peach, now revealed as the celebrated Acteon Shaft, through whose means government had been enabled to defeat the treasonable designs of the disaffected, "do not, do not go into the presence of your Maker with a lie upon your tongue. Tell us what became of Lieutenant Heartwell. You have not long to live, why should you refuse this act of justice to those whom you have so deeply injured--they have discovered the concealed property?" "Ha," uttered Brady, like one struck with mortal agony, "question me no further; I will not answer you." He looked towards one of the attendants inquiringly, and the man made some sign in return, but both were scarcely perceptible. "Is there nothing will prevail with you," said the young officer in deep distress; "will not a mother's tears--the supplications of a son--" [Illustration: _The Death of Brady and discovery of Frank's Father._ London. Tilt & Bogue. 86. Fleet Street.] "Nothing, nothing," doggedly returned Brady, "you have the property; your father you will see no more. Hah!" he shrieked and started, fixing his blood-shot but rolling eyes at an aged-looking man, who was standing in the door-way. "Hah! what! again betrayed?--'tis he--'tis he himself, and no delusion." The look of every one present was turned upon the object of the lawyer's terror. "It is, it is indeed he," uttered Acteon Shaft with deep emotion. "Frank, it is your father." There cannot be any necessity for relating what ensued as Frank fell himself in the embrace of his long-lost and affectionately-mourned parent! Nor can it be required of me to tell the delight of Mr. Heartwell's spirit as, restored to freedom, he gazed with pride upon the handsome features and manly appearance of his son. Those who have hearts alive to nature, have already pictured the whole, and my task is spared. Mutual recognitions and hearty greetings for several minutes drew away attention from the wretch who had caused such long-protracted misery. On again turning towards him, he was in the same position, but his glassy eyes were fixed as if bursting from their sockets--he was dead. CHAPTER XII. From the moment of her son's departure, Mrs. Heartwell suffered intensely from anxiety and suspense, which Helen, who had come to stay with her, endeavoured to relieve. It was about noon when the party returned, and there was upon the countenances of all a glow of satisfaction and pleasure that could not be concealed from the keen penetration of her who sought to gather facts from looks. "What--what is it?" uttered she, as she strove to nerve herself to bear whatever intelligence they might bring; "tell me--tell me all." "My dear mother," said Frank embracing her, "keep your mind calm--strange things have been revealed--my father's fate has been ascertained,--come, come, sit down and compose yourself. You shall know all." "A hidden mystery has been brought to light, my dear madam," said Mr. Wendover, quietly. "Mr. Heartwell has been heard of; but are you really able to endure whatever of joy or sorrow may betide--" "Joy?--joy?" repeated she with eagerness, "is there then hope, that you use that term? Do not keep me longer in suspense--it is becoming terrible, your countenances show no grief. Tell me, Ben, if I can learn it from no one else." The seaman looked at his mistress--his smile of exultation could not be mistaken; but dashing the rising spray from his eyes, he uttered, "Lord love you, my lady, my heart's too full to overhaul it now; but what's the odds so as you're happy?" "Can you bear an introduction to one who is able to explain every particular?" inquired Mr. Wendover; "exert yourself, you will stand in need of energy and strength." "It is--it must be," said the gasping lady, "there is something whispering it to my heart--a thought I have clung to through all my trials--a presage of his existence--he lives--say that he lives--I know it, and am firm!" She arose from her seat, and the next instant was pressed to the throbbing heart of her restored and tenderly loved husband. Years of past pain enhanced the felicitous enjoyment of that moment, and it was long before composure was regained. The absent lieutenant's history may be briefly told. His first remembrance on recovering from stupor, was of a dark and dreary room,--in fact, the very one in which Brady had expired,--here shut in from the world, and concealed from every eye but that of his keeper, he had dragged on his days a lengthened chain of galling misery, till days dwindled into nothing, and the links were extended to years. But happily for him much of it had been passed in delusion--his intellect had become impaired--and when he recovered consciousness, it was like the sudden awakening from a long and fearful dream. He remonstrated--insisted upon being set at liberty, but expressions of remonstrance, and attempts at resistance, were alike punished with severity. Books he was allowed; but he had no one to converse with, except his keeper. When Brothers was removed from Fisher's, "the prophet" was considered so harmless, that very little restraint was laid upon him, and one of the keepers telling him, that a brother seaman was confined within the walls, he earnestly requested to be allowed an interview. After repeated solicitations, the keeper secretly complied, and it may be well supposed that the meeting was anything but sorrowful, for it afforded Heartwell a hope that through the medium of his old acquaintance, he might yet escape. As the keeper was present during this, and several subsequent interviews, they could only converse on general topics, and when the fit was on him, Brothers would prophesy. It was on one of these occasions that he gave Heartwell an intimation of his designs, by saying, "What is man that he should be cared for--here to-day, and gone to-morrow--like the light that shineth out of darkness that quickly passeth away!" This was accompanied by significations that were readily understood, and hope revived the lieutenant's energies; but although Unity Peach, or more properly speaking, Acteon Shaft, had visited Brothers more than once, yet the latter with cunning peculiar to himself had said nothing about Heartwell, preferring to keep his intentions secret, so that they might not be frustrated, and fearing that if the slightest suspicion was excited, he should be subjected to greater restrictions. On the evening of Brady's return with a fractured skull from the blow given him by Frank (for such was the fact, and it is worthy of remark that both villains met their doom from the much-injured young man) Brothers, who was roaming about, overheard directions and commands given by the lawyer to one of the keepers, to administer poison to Heartwell, so that he might be entirely removed, and as he hoped the secret would perish with him. Brothers, who had free access to all parts of the house, occasionally officiating as an assistant--now determined to put his scheme in practice, nor was a moment to be lost. Amidst the confusion which prevailed through Brady's mishap, Brothers contrived to get the keys, and having by an artful message removed the porter, Heartwell's cell was opened, and he passed through the passages unobserved to the outer gate. This was locked, and they had no key; there were however some planks on the ground, and by inclining one against the wall to a certain height, and then placing another on it, he contrived to get into the open fields, and in the darkness eluded the vigilance of the constables who had been set to watch. The glare of the atmosphere pointed out to him the direction of the metropolis, and thither he hastened, taking a straight direction for Ormond-street, where he inquired for his family, but no one could give him intelligence respecting them. Dispirited and disheartened, he went to the nearest watch-house, and informed the chief constable of the night who he was. This functionary happened to be a clever intelligent man, related to Townsend the Bow-Street officer, and to his residence he was advised to go; Heartwell went, engaged Townsend's assistance, a warrant was promptly obtained, and they hurried back to Hoxton. In the mean time, Brady became more and more outrageous, and insisted on going to Heartwell's cell to ascertain whether his orders had been executed: he found it empty; and judging from this that the lieutenant was no more, his reason became overpowered, delirium and violence ensued, and they were compelled to secure him where he then was. Townsend and Heartwell found no difficulty in gaining admission, and Brothers conducted them to the cell, which was entered as already described. Mr. Wendover's full consent being obtained, Frank's nuptials followed soon after this joyous re-union. Youth, beauty, rank, and fashion graced the festival in the parlours and drawing-room of the hall, whilst Ben and Sambo, who had come up on purpose to the wedding, kept the kitchen guests in one continued round of merriment, till overpowered by respect for his master, veneration for his mistress, and attachment to Frank, Ben's brains began to whirl, his steps became exceedingly erratic as if his feet were mocking each other, and he was carried off to bed by Sambo, where he was snugly deposited under the lee of his nightcap. "You for drinkee too much, massa Ben," said Sambo. "Nem mind dis time, boy, young masser young missy, all golious and sing God shabe de king." "Hur-rah, hurrah," hiccuped Ben, as he strove to raise his head from the pillow. "Hurrah, you beautiful--beauti--piece of ebony--hurrah I say--" down dropped his head. "Wha-wats the odds so as you're happy!" FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 24: It is a strange anomaly in the present law, that, where two or more insane persons are confined, a license is required for the asylum; but if only one person is so confined, the keeper does not need a license. This might be remedied without touching private houses.] THE POSTILION. "Wo-ho-ho-ho-up--wo-ho!"--Sweet public, you are now in the yard of the Crown and Cauliflower Hotel, famous for posting, roasting, and accommodating the lieges with very lean bills of fare, and very fat bills of figures;--and you have listened to the lover-like tones, half-soliciting, half-imperative, with which our postboy brought his horses at once to a halt, at the hall-door of the Crown and Cauliflower. There he stands at your chaise-door, hand to hat, and whip couchant, soliciting your favourable notice. There stands the postboy, an important individual of the great family of the riders. He is much given to a white silk hat, with the silk worn off the rim in front, a white neckerchief, a white vest, a canary jacket, a small plaited shirt, and white corded unfit-for-finical-ladies-to-conceive-the-proper-ogatives of. The postboy is a jumble of contradictions; he is always rising in the world, yet he is as constantly finding his level; he has had more ups and downs than any other being; he is, at least, fifty-seven, but he has not yet arrived at manhood; should he complete the century, he will be as far off from it then as he is now; he is always a post_boy_; a boy post dated; he never reaches man's estate; he never knows its declension; he never sinks into second childishness; he lives and dies a postboy. We have heard of one, two, or three instances "down the road," where he saved one or two thousand pounds, and became a landlord. We think they are apocryphal. Perhaps they occurred in the days of the highwaymen, by whom postboys have been known to profit. But whenever they occurred, or however, they are exceptions in the great chapter of postboys, proving that the will of fate has given to the postboy "A local habitation and a name"-- if, indeed, there can be said to be anything local about his changing and yet monotonous existence--else he had walked about the world an embodied nonentity. He is a totally different being to the cantering gemini, the letter postboy and his horse; nor does he ever become "a postman." Like Tom Moody, he radiates "Through a country well known to him fifty miles round," yet little knoweth he besides the change-houses, and they, in his imagination, stand out in glorious array:--the Pig and Lapstone, the Three Leathern Corkscrews, the Manuscript and Hatchet, the Stork and Ruffles, the Waggon and Shirtpin, the Syllabub and Pump, all of which, in motley succession, dance before his dozing eyes as so many havens from his peril;--the sole green spots that ornament the desert of his life. The postilion is a veritable centaur--a human quadruped partaking of the two natures, the stable and the bed and bolster, "three-pennorth o' brandy," and the nose-bag. He is a poet, superior to that genuine pastoral, the haymaker, if familiarity with Apollo (and _if_ Apollo be the sun) constitutes a poet. The sickle-wielder of Autumn burns not with such fervid inspiration. Look on his countenance--"that index to the soul"--and imagine how full of fire that soul must be, when the proverbial brevity of an index contains so much--"to overflowing full." His _genus_ stands out like a finger-post before him, introducing him to every circle. His soul is concentrated in the Mews. Talk of Shakspere and Owen Glendower, they never carried such lights before them; even Bardolph himself possessed not such a nasal flambeau. No! his is an inspired nose, and his nose knows it! And it loveth not, neither doth it abide, the familiarities of the aqueous element, but hisses in its ablutions, as a stable-boy hisses when he is cleaning a horse, thereby publishing its heat and its nosology. Again, mark you his freckles--whoever saw such in the face of beauty? He is a character "alone in his glory," so far as his outward indications go. Let us gauge the calibre of his understanding. We were in the tap of the Sun and Cabbage-stump when he called to "wet his whistle." A "boy" was there before him from the Hand and Placquet, drinking with "a return," said return being a runaway apprentice, and our postboy stopped with _his_ in the shape of a clandestine marriage. Upon meeting, the following colloquy took place:-- "Well, Tom, how goes it at the Placquet, eh? I see ye up the road pretty often lately. I 'spose the old man an' her don't agree no better? Ah! he shouldn't a married her." "That's nither here nor there with us, you know, Bob, as long as there's plenty o' gemmen as wants our assistance; and, somehow, there's all'ays plenty on em' at the Placquet--good payers too. Th' old feller's terrible crabby, but she cocks her cap 'nation high, to be sure, an' she don't care--it suits _her_ better to look arter _her_ customers, eh?" "Mum about them things, Tom. I got a han'some young couple here going to be made one, an' we shouldn't put canker'd snaffles into young colts' chaps. There's nothin' very pleasant in rising blisters in the mouth--is there, sir?" (to our worthy self.) "You're the rummiest feller I ever come near, Bob, to talk to the gemman a that way--you'd make a gallows good parson. But I s'pose you're comin' it feelin' like, an' Mary Scrabbles 'll soon be Mrs. Trotter?" At this repartee there was a general "He! he! he!" the runaway apprentice taking the alto part. "That young gemman's in a very good humour, ain't he, Tom? I s'pose his mother know _he's_ out? A regular young lord in disguise, come out to 'stonish us gulpins; but if we had him on a flinty road, o' th' off side, at one or two o'clock of a winter's mornin', we could mek him drop his cock-tail, eh, Tom? an' laugh o' th' other side o' his mouth." "Order, order," as them parliament chaps say--"'tacking my constitent ain't nothin' about Mary, you know, Bob." "O, stow your chaff, an' I must be off. Here's to your health, Miss, wishin' ye much happiness; and your'n, sir, all the same; an' to the young gentleman there with the mint o' goold in his pocket, an' the kiddy side locks, an' th' pertikler purty count'nance when he laughs"--(he had a mouth like a park, and teeth like its palings)--"'oping he may never have the prison crop, nor th' lock jaw, nor the Vituses dance to spile him, Tom!" and a concurrent nod and wink at Tom scarcely preceded the emptying of the glass of "brandy with," ere he departed. "Mind ye don't break down at the Horns, there," shouted the remaining "boy," having a sly fling at both parties as they rattled away, and dexterously conciliating his own. Such is a specimen of his snap-dragon conversation, which partakes strongly of Christmas nonsense--short and caustic, touch and go--the blazing gin and raisins of confabulation. The postilion seldom marries, but, in general, he does the insinuating to the cook at the inn where he tarries. The postboy has a tooth and a taste for a gastronomical relish; and though his strong stomach and long rides furnish his appetite with the best of all condiments, he can pout out his lips, and depress his eyebrows, at the plain and substantial fare which is allowed and provided for him, while his mouth waters for a portion of the luxuries preparing about him; therefore, whatever Molly can pare and make, as convenience and opportunity offer, never comes either too late or too early for him. He imagines himself to be one of those who are reputed to be "awake to the world," and sooth to say, he distinguishes at a glance the character of his fare of either gender, and deports himself accordingly. He never takes more than his legitimate fare--if he cannot get it: nor will he ever annoy you with impertinence at his departure--if you have purchased his civility. He may, and frequently does, practise a little collusion with toll-gate keepers: thus, just as you are leaving the town where you hire your post-chaise, there is invariably a toll-bar; you pay there, and the postboy receives "a ticket," which frees you from payment at other bars on your line of route, set up to intercept the cross-roads, and so on, till you must pay again, on entering another "line of trust." A lucky dog are you, if you escape so; ten to one your postboy has "an understanding" with the keeper of one of the bars, whereat arriving, he bawls out, "_Pay here!_"; or, if you have been very liberal "at mine inn," or to the last "boy," it varies to "Pay here, your _honour_!" in notes as dulcet as his glottis will permit him, and draws up. "Free to Flatbit!" cries the tollman, as you comply with his demand, dash goes the rowel into the left flank of the near horse, and you are pursuing your course in blissful ignorance. As the postboy returns, he receives from his "friend," his share of your mulet, and enjoys his laugh literally at your expense. The postboy has been a person of importance--we say, has been; for, firstly, the flying stages, with their excellent accommodation, civil functionaries, and eleven miles an hour, more than decimated his "order;" then that northern leveller, Macadam, exacted a triple tithe; and lastly, the iron-ribbed troughs and viaducts, everywhere throwing out arteries from the main trunks, and every individual inch growing, like a chopped centipede, into a perfect monster,--have almost annihilated him, so much so, that the next generation will set him down as an extinct animal, and, like the present with the Dodo, will be able to find only his bill and his boots! Still doth he retain some dignity, for, at a late general election, he headed the poll gallantly for the independent and patriotic borough of Bullybribe; where the Right Honourable Florian Augustus Finglefangle offered golden reasons for the suffrages of his father's tenantry, and those real bulwarks of the British empire--the potwallopers. Notwithstanding, his glory has departed; those incorrigible dogs who rule the roast in the courts of law--cold, unyielding, unromantic civilians--have long decided not to recognise the mysteries of the Gretna smithy; they have openly denounced the votaries of Venus and Vulcan; and one great part of the postboy's occupation is no more. _Our_ postboy is not about to lead you, gentle reader, the tour of the Continent; he is not about to familiarise you with banditti; he has no forests nor horrible gorges to lead you through; you must expect little from him beside what we have prepared you for; and, as we have exposed his trifling peccadilloes, we entreat you not to let your virtuous indignation overcome your liberality nor your gentlemanly bearing. Probably, sir, you are fresh from the perpetration of rascalities which he would shrink from as being heinous crimes, but which you very complacently assure yourself were cleverly done to take in Messrs. Adderfeed and Co. You are a shrewd fellow, doubtless, and "are not to be done," as you believe in your self-sufficiency;--let him try to impose payment of a toll on you, which you have no business to pay, and you wish they may get it, that's all! Now, put it to your conscience--you have a conscience?--and compare your rascalities with his venialities: your "means and appliances" with his; and if conscience give the balance in your favour, why you are a worthy fellow, and ought not to be imposed on; but be careful; do not insist upon your bond; your memory may play truant, and, if it does not, you are certainly benevolent, nay, munificent, and will not stoop to such a paltry cavil. Remember he is ever at your beck and command, hail, rain, or shine; high-road or bye-road; at hazy morn, or fervid noon, or dreary night; you have but to intimate your pleasure, and he is your humble servitor. In the stifling heat and dust of midsummer, and in the dreary sleet and howling winds of Christmas, he is glad to administer to your business or pleasure. He never tires nor complains of his vocation. Thrice has he been out in this day's heavy rain--the whole of his wardrobe is soaked--a month ago he rose from a bed of fever, induced by the same cause--yet are you waiting, the moment you hear his wheels, to order him off for another sixteen miles, and not a murmur will escape him, although it is now six at eve, the sun setting, and the wind "turning very cold." Still will he lift his hat to you as deferentially as he did to his first fare, and comply with the same alacrity. The thousands who pass him in his progress think not of his cares nor his sorrows, his abundance or his want. He toils and moils like the rest, unconscious that the eyes and the mind of the philosopher--bright scintillations of heaven and eternity--may rest upon him at the same moment with those of the humble individual who hath here noted his characteristics and sketched his profile. JAO. "THE HORSE BY THE HEAD." Mr. and Mrs. Q. were discussing their financial resources--"I cannot make out," said the lady, "how it is that Mr. X. contrives to keep such a large house and so many servants, and to live in such style. You are quite as clever, my dear, in your profession--ay, that you are--cleverer too, for that matter; and yet, with all your skill and perseverance, we are living, as it were, from hand to mouth. How is it?" "Why, my love," said Mr. Q., "you see that X. has got the start: in fact, you see, my dear, he has got 'the horse by the head,' and I have only got him by the _tail_." [Illustration] A FLOATING RECOLLECTION. In the year 1806, when the Asia East Indiaman was conveying a detachment of dragoons to Madras, the ship encountered very severe weather. Amongst the troops was a blithe "boy" named Pat Murphy, and he had also a pretty wife on board, who, instead of taking the roughs with the smooths, was continually upbraiding her husband. "Arrah, Pat, why did yez bring me here into this dark hole now? Oh! whirrasthrue and it's smashed and kilt entirely I'll be in regard o' the say-sickness and the kicking of the ship." "Och, cooshla-machree," returned Pat, trying to soften her, "rest aisy, darling. Shure an it was yerself as wanted to come and wouldn't stay behind. Small blame to you for that anyhow, seeing that Pat Murphy's the man as owns you. But rest aisy awhile, an it's the bright sun and the smooth wather we'll get, and go sailing away like a duck over a pond." "Oh, thin, Pat, but it's little feeling you've got for my misfortunate state," uttered Judy, as she burst into tears. "Never again shall I see the green-hill tops tinged with the goulden glory of the sun--never again shall I thravail free-footed through the bogs and over the moors. Oh! it's a dessolute woman I am this very day--och hone--och hone." This sort of complaining was continually repeated, till the temper of the warm-hearted Irishman began to give way; but he struggled hard to bear up against her petulance and peevishness. One day, however, the gale increased to a downright hurricane--the ship had sprung a leak, the water was gaining on the pumps, the sea ran fearfully high, and it was evident, unless the storm abated, that the "Asia must yield to the war of elements and go down." Pat, who had been relieved from the pumps, contrived to get below to see Judy, and was greeted with the usual reception. "Haven't I been a faithful and thrue wife to yez? and here I am smothered with the say-sickness, an' the noise and the bother!" "An' how can I help it, Judy?" remonstrated Pat. "Shure an I've done my best, and been a dootiful husband. I carn't conthrol the say or the ship as I would a horse upon the turf--long life to it--what would you have?" Judy, however, still continued her clamour, till Pat's patience was at length worn completely out, and he voiciferated in no very gentle voice, "Och, thin, howld your peace, woman; is it meself as you'd be breaking the heart of afore I'm dead? Arrah, rest aisy with yer tongue!" At this moment, a heavy sea struck the ship on the bows, ranged fore and aft, and rushed down every cavity, causing considerable confusion. Judy shrieked and cried out, "Oh! Pat, an why did yez bring me here?" Pat, who really thought the ship was sinking, turned round, and exclaimed with vehemence, "Arrah, howld yer bodther, woman--you'll be a widdaw to-night." This terrible announcement of her becoming a widow silenced poor Judy; and before Pat was summoned to renew his labour at the pumps, she had thrown her arms about his neck, and in loving accents implored him to avert so dreadful a calamity. The storm abated--fine weather returned--Judy grew more accustomed to the ship, but ever afterwards went by the name of "Pat Murphy's widow;" and it was nothing uncommon to hear both soldiers and sailors calling out, "Pat, Pat Murphy, your widow wants you." THE OLD SAILOR. [Illustration: SHEER TYRANNY. Cropping a poor wanderer, who has slept one night in the Croydon workhouse, before he is liberated in the morning.] [Illustration: SHEER TENDERNESS. Cropping a long-haired bacchanal, convicted at the Mansion-house of drunkenness, instead of fining him.] THE PAUPERS' CHAUNT[25]. Air:--"_Oh the Roast-Beef of Old England!_" O we're very well fed, So we must not repine, Though turkey we've _cut_, And likewise the chine; But, oh! once a-year We should just like to dine On the roast-beef of Old England, OH the old English roast-beef! O, the gruel's delicious, The taters divine-- And our very small beer Is uncommonly _fine_; But with us we think You would not like to dine, Without the roast-beef of Old England, OH the old English roast-beef! Our soup's very good, We really must own, But of what it is made Arn't very well known; So, without any soup We would much rather dine On the roast-beef of Old England, OH the old English roast-beef! Mince-pies they are nice, And plum-pudding is fine. But we'd give up them both For "ribs" or "Sir Line," If for once in the year We could but just dine On the roast-beef of Old England, OH the old English roast-beef! "Roast beef and plum-pudding" Is true Christmas fare, But they think that our _morals_ Such dainties won't bear. Oh! oh! it is plain Ne'er more shall we share In the roast-beef of Old England, OH the old English roast-beef. Still long life to the Queen Is the toast we'd be at; With a health to the Prince, May he live and grow fat! And may all under him Have abundance of _that_-- What?--Why the roast-beef of England, OH the old English roast-beef! FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 25: Suggested by the refusal of the Poor-law Commissioners to allow any charitable person to send in supplies of roast-beef and plum-pudding upon Christmas day to the inmates of the Union workhouses.] SKETCHES HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE. BY A. BIRD. A CONTESTED ELECTION AT ROME. There are, I doubt not, thousands and thousands subject to our most gracious and protesting Queen--"Gentlemen of England"--ay, and Ladies too--"who live at home at ease," and fancy, poor simpletons! that the age of miracles is past. No such thing. Once in every hundred years there is in the Everlasting City a regular contested election in honour of the dead, each member being returned, as it were, to earth, in the character of saint, not as with the elect of this world, for words and promises of things to be, but for miracles done and recorded. The number of seats devoted to the saints is generally supposed to be three hundred and sixty-five, that is to say, one for every day in the year. And if we refer to the earliest period when first "The Romans had a happy knack, Of cooking up an almanack," we shall find that every seat was occupied. Where then, it may be asked, are the addenda to be placed at the end of each century? The question is by no means easy of solution. There is, to be sure, leap-year, with its odd day in February; yet this would only do for a bit of a saint, and coming like a comet at stated intervals, I incline to think that when "the Devil a saint would be," he takes that odd day to himself, and walks the earth with all the glories of his tail, an appendage which no true saint would acknowledge. But, as the French found room for "St. Napoleon," even while alive, I can only suppose that the longest day will hold more than the shortest, and any day hold more than one saint. When St. Nap was elected, it is clear some smaller saint must have been put in the background, and thus he remained--as we should say of an ex-minister--"out of place and out of favour," until the Bourbons returned, and included the ex-saint in their own restoration. Leaving, however, this knotty point to the Pope and his cardinals, I come at once to St. Peter's and the fact. It was in the merry month of May 1839 that I last entered that temple, alike unrivalled for its majesty and beauty--would that I had never seen it as I saw it then! The election was over, the chosen of one hundred years were decided upon, four new saints had been returned to earth; a fifth had been nominated, but after his claims had been duly canvassed, the votes were against him. An overwhelming majority declared that he had not performed sufficient miracles to be canonised, and his bones were doomed to rest in peace. Not so the successful candidates; their names were entered in the day-book of the Pope's elect, each saint and his miracle were put upon canvass, the likenesses were warranted, and the limner's art had done its best to show how saints in heaven were made by man on earth. There they were, only awaiting the ceremonies which were to confirm the intended honours, the chairing of themselves and deeds in effigy--(if thus we may speak of hanging those huge pictures on high)--the celebration of mass, the roaring of cannon from the Castle of St. Angelo--psalmody, such as Rome alone can boast--processions wherein grandeur, littleness, gorgeous wealth, torches, and tinsel, struggle for mastery, yet form in the whole a most striking and impressive inconsistency. Be our creed what it may, whether we approve or whether we condemn, our feelings are carried away by the feelings of the many, the thousands upon thousands who, with one accord, bare the head and bend the knee, when their Prince of the whole Christian world, their Pope, "_Nostra Papa_," appears! Jews, Turks, and Infidels must "off with their hat"--if they have one--but with the most rigid there is also an involuntary inclination to bend the knee. Who, unmoved, can watch a Roman procession wending its way towards the high altar, till it pauses beneath their Holy of Holies, the wondrous dome of St. Peter's! a strange anomaly, I grant--venerable priests of Christ, tottering beneath the weight of gold embroidered on their backs; cardinals, proud and stately, wearing their scarlet hats as knights who bore the helmet of the church; beautiful boys, with angel wings upon their shoulders; censers, waving clouds of incense, lending its perfume to the air, and, like a spirit loath to quit this lower world, wheeling, hovering, slowly rising in graceful circles of fantastic flight till it mingles with the sky, and is seen no more. "'Tis gone!" and as it passed I caught the costume of the warlike Swiss; the guards of him, the Pope who preaches peace on earth. I saw their nodding plumes of raven black, with scarlet tuft--their glittering halberts of an age gone by--their ruffs, rosettes, their belts of buff (the perfection of a painter's picturesque), armed and covered in the House of God!--Yes, this, and much untold, of that which forms a Romish procession at Rome, strange and anomalous though it be, is most striking and impressive as a whole. [Illustration] The mere recollection has carried me with it, and turned aside for the moment the malediction I contemplated on the dressing up of St. Peter's. Would, I repeat, that I had never seen it! to gild the virgin gold were a venial blunder in comparison--it would still be gold, and look like gold; but to veil the majesty, the stern uncompromising beauty of St. Peter's columns with flaunting silk, to ornament perfection with tinsel hangings and festoons, this was indeed a profanation in honour of the saints elect. St. Peter's, with me, had been a passion from the moment I first looked upon its wondrous beauty: it was love, love at first sight, but growing with my growth--a passion, holy and enduring, such as can be only felt when we stand in the presence of fancied perfection. Judge, then, of my horror when I saw this desecration!--but there is no blank so dark that we may not find a ray of light. I bless the saints for one thing-- they taught me how to build a brace of angels, and in so doing they taught me the stupendous proportions of that temple, which, though built by human hands, has in it a sublimity which awes and humbles the proud heart of little man. Nay, the very portraits of their very saints diverted my angry thoughts by teaching the self-same lesson. There was one--a monstrous ugly fellow--who, preparatory to his chairing, was left to lean against a column. The proportions of this miracle-worker were so gigantic, that I deemed it some mighty caricature, painted on the main-sail of a man-of-war, till, looking at his fellows raised to their proper elevation, they seemed in their oval frames but medallions stuck upon the walls! [Illustration] The angel manufactory, however, was still more striking. To give effect to the intended ceremonies, the head decorator suggested a brace of angels, to be placed on each side of the nave of St. Peter's, behind the altar. The lazy cardinals nodded assent, and the question was carried _nem. con._ They do all things well at Rome in honour of the church, even their greatest follies are on a scale of grandeur--their fireworks, fountains, illuminations, are all unrivalled--so are their angels, when they make them. First, an able artist is employed to sketch a design, then able workmen to build, painters to paint, and lastly, robe-makers to clothe the naked. The construction is curious: a skeleton figure, after the late fashion of single-line figures, is prepared with a strong rod of iron, which is fixed into a large block of wood, and this may be termed the building foundation. The next step--oh! most anti-angelic notion! is to collect hay-bands (enough for a hay-market), and therewith to mould the limbs and body. It were vain to attempt, by words, to describe the ludicrous effect produced; but, by the aid of the foregoing cut, it may be conceived. Good-bye to sublimity for that day! _omne ignotum pro magnifico_--it never answers to go behind the scenes; and if it be true that in some cases "ignorance is bliss," how much more truly do the Latin words tell us that "ignorance is ever the key-stone to sublimity." It is true, that as I looked upon the gigantic saint, as yet unhung, and compared him with his fellows, the elect on high; as I watched this monster of miracles, raised by pulleys till he dwindled into a pretty miniature; as I saw the pigmy workmen wheeling the huge angels to their places,--it must be confessed that I had found "a sliding scale," which, in this case, answered admirably. It enabled me to measure the proportions of the stupendous pile which towered above me to judge of its most beautiful symmetry, with greater force and stronger conviction than I had ever felt whilst gazing on the children which support the holy water, the sweet babes with arms as thick as the thigh of man! That knowledge was interesting--the angel-making was amusing, but the solemn tone of mind suited to St. Peter's was destroyed. In vain I stood before the lions of Canova; the one which slept could not inspire the repose which breathed through the sleeping marble; the one which watched, the sleepless sentinel, guarding the ashes of the dead, even this could not scare the demon of ridicule that played on hallowed ground. I turned to the mosaics, those fadeless pictures which seem as painted for eternity; no, not these--not Guido's Archangel, that wondrous type of heavenly beauty in the form of man--of power to conquer with the will to do--not even this could tame the merry sin within me. I stood before that statue which frenzied with undying passion the priest who gazed upon its beauties--the emblem of "Justice," but so lovely in its nakedness, that man, impure and imperfect, became a worshipper, and obliged the Pope to hide Justice from his children. The ridiculous prevailed; I smiled to think that the form as well as eyes of "_Justice at Rome_" must be hid from sight. And I laughed outright at woman's curiosity, when I thought how Lady See ---- prevailed upon the Pope to lift the veil and show her the form which made a Pygmalion of a priest! The demon was in me for the day; it had been raised by--to use a fashionable word--the desecration of the temple, and nothing could lay the evil spirit. I turned to my hotel, ordered horses for the morrow, and fled. My course was set for Naples. As I traversed the Pontine Marshes, cheek by jowl with the sluggish stream which the pride of Popes has wedded to the road and given to the traveller's eye, what a contrast did these waters, this cold, dark, silent chain of "_Mal-aria_," present to the stream of life, the roar of cannon, the music, festival, and holiday, which fancy pictured in the Eternal City! But the comparison was in favour of the waters; there is, thought I, at least some use in these, for, as they drag their weary length along, death, the tyrant, fettered and subdued, is borne on their course from plains where once his rule was absolute. Filled with these reflections, and sometimes dreaming that I saw the captive monarch in a phantom ship, with skeleton crew--sometimes that I heard the sullen splash of muffled oars; thus dreaming and reflecting, the journey seemed short to Naples; and there it was I chanced upon "A Miracle of Modern Days," which, however, must be reserved until the Omnibus shall start again. MRS. TODDLES. It is the cherished wish of our heart, more especially at the moment when we are entering upon a new-year, and opening a fresh account with Time, to be at peace with all men; but Col. Talker--(_is_ his name Talker or Walker?)--has certainly done his utmost to uproot and scatter to the winds this pacific feeling. His conduct at the office, the day after our last publication, was extremely violent; and his threats intermingled with terrible oaths, such as "Dash my buttons," "Burn my wig," &c., were quite discreditable to him. And all on account of the dozen words we have said of _him_--for he is now cool enough on the score of Mrs. T.'s supposed grievance. This is the way with all your gallant champions! We hope Col. W. has not torn his shirt frill, nor injured his umbrella past repair. We hope too that he is not a confirmed duellist. [Illustration] [Illustration] Trusting that we shall yet live to be on amicable terms with Col. W., we shall now describe his gallant conduct in escorting Mrs. Toddles to Bow, to spend their Christmas eve in that favoured vicinity, her dear native place, which, it appears, she has been vainly endeavouring to reach; these last nine months. Resolved however to have nothing to do with an "omnibus," they found out one of the old-fashioned stages, but, being too late (as usual!) to secure inside places, were compelled to go outside. Mrs. T. and the colonel seated themselves very comfortably in the basket or dickey. Scarcely however had they advanced on their journey beyond Aldgate pump, when, lamentable to relate, the dickey, affected by old age or by a violent jolt, suddenly separated itself from the coach, and down it came crash with Mrs. T. into the road; the gallant colonel springing to the roof as nimbly as a lamplighter. The feelings of both, as Hamlet remarks, may be more easily conceived than described. Happily however no serious injury was sustained by Mrs. T. beyond a slight fracture of the bonnet, not likely to prove fatal to its shape; her dress cap too which she was carrying in paper was also a little crumpled, and there was a crash of something in her pocket which, she most positively alleged, was _not_ a bottle. Colonel W., as soon as the coach could be stopped, descended and returned to the scene of the accident in time to snatch that lady from the risks to which her delicacy was exposed, which was shocked only to the extent of proclaiming a fact previously known perhaps to many, that she wore black stockings. We are truly happy to state that after a little delay they reached their place of destination together in perfect safety; and the very best security which we can offer to the friends of Mrs. Toddles that she suffered nothing from the untoward occurrence, is, that she was enabled in the course of the delightful evening which she spent, to take part in a cotillon with her friend the gallant Colonel; and when they were last seen, they were dancing away gloriously together. SONNET TO MRS. SARAH TODDLES. Though short thou art in stature, Sarah dear, Thou shalt not be looked over by the world;-- Nor though an antique bonnet thou dost wear Over, perchance, a wig, where hair once curled! Thy Lightfoot is beneath the grassy mound, And thou wilt see thy Heavisides no more,-- Loaded with lead, thy feet, by age, are found, And thy sides lean to what they were before:-- Child of a Gunn! (that went off long ago)-- Lightfoot's and Heaviside's surviving half!! Relief of Toddles!!! all thy friends well know Thy worth, and say, without intent to chaff, "Sarah will be, and is (though suitors crave) "A widow still,--and Toddles to the grave!" V.D.L. POSTSCRIPT. MR. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK here concludes the first volume of his "Omnibus," by wishing all his friends and readers a "happy new year." An arrangement entered into, a twelvemonth ago, with MR. HARRISON AINSWORTH, and now resumed, with a view to its being carried into effect on the 1st of February, prevents the re-appearance of the "Omnibus" upon the plan of monthly numbers; but the estimation and success it has obtained, encourage him to pursue the object with which he started, by presenting his second volume in the form of an Annual. That object was, to produce a FIRESIDE MISCELLANY--here it is; and if he and his literary associates herein should meet the reader as agreeably in an Annual, as in a Monthly form, he trusts it will be [Illustration: AS BROAD AS IT'S LONG.] * * * * * +------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber notes: | | | | P.vi. '372' changed to '272' which is the correct page number. | | P.v. '144' changed to '124' which is the correct page number. | | P.16. 'filagree' changed to 'filigree'. | | P.21. 'naratives' changed to 'narratives'. | | P.43. 'though' changed to 'thought'. | | P.49. 'suffiicently' changed to 'sufficiently' | | P.84. 'defeaning' changed to 'deafening'. | | P.184. 'waiscoat' changed to 'waistcoat'. | | P.195. 'pourtrayed' changed to 'portrayed'. | | P.224. 'duetts' changed to 'duets'. | | P.226. 'neighbourhoood' changed to 'neighbourhood'. | | P.250. 'propects' changed to 'prospects'. | | p.259. 'Jemina' changed to 'Jemima'. | | P.278. 'riggled' changed to 'wriggled'. | | P.292. 'your are' changed to 'you are'. | | Fixed various punctuation. | | Superscripts are shown as: C^k. | | Uderscores surround _italic text_ in this file. | | | +------------------------------------------------------------------+