Day had broken (though MARTIN was still solvent) and was casting

brilliant Holborn Bars of light through the windows of Tredethlyn

Abbey on to the artistic Phiz of Lady Aurorabella.

She was very very weary――tired of her own life, and of several other

people’s lives, also she had not the heart to eat, and probably would

not have eaten it if she had. Beyond trifling with the wing of a

rabbit, cutting a morsel from a cold surloin of grouse, and drinking a

single glass of _Chiaroscuro_, her breakfast was untouched.

For she had just received intelligence that, in spite of all her

exertions, her FIVE HUSBANDS were again at liberty!

“Oh! why did they not all perish?” she sobbed. “I have tried to get

rid of them over and over again by every species of assassination, but

now I am tired of _mild_ measures. I must do something DESPERATE!”

So she summoned that ubiquitous detective officer, Inspector Weasel,

who, from any quarter of the globe, would come by telegraph to obey

her slightest word.

“Weasel” she said “I can endure this no longer, I have made a resolve.

By the tyrannical laws of this hateful country, my _quintette_ of

husbands have been allowed to keep the marriage certificates. Once in

possession of _them_, I could defy the world. If you value my peace or

your own, you must get them for me.”

“I will,” replied the all accomplished detective and he set about it

at once.

First, to pursue the fugitive Dr. Marchmont, “Ah” murmured the

Detective “my experience tells me that when a fellow on the bolt says

he is going to one place, he is certain to set off in exactly the

opposite direction. Let me see,” And he carefully examined his

Government survey of the World.

* * * * *

Inspector Weasel hastened to the Snoozington Railway Station.

“What time does the next train start for Kamtschatka?” “At 6.85,” was

the reply.

The detective chafed with impatience. Two minutes to wait! It seemed

an eternity-and-a-half to him! At length the train arrived and the

detective jumped up behind the Engine Driver. “Off we go!” he cried,

“bother stations, and signals, and all that sort of thing, never mind

bursting the engine, or blowing up the passengers. I’m in a hurry!”

――――:o:――――

THE POLITE LETTER WRITER.

At the distribution of prizes to the art classes at Chesterfield in

November, 1880, the secretary read a communication purporting to come

from Mr. John Ruskin, in answer to one asking him to give them a

lecture. It was as follows:――

“Harlesden, London, Friday.

“My dear Sir,――Your letter reaches me here. I have just

returned from Venice, where I have ruminated in the

pasturages of the home of art; the loveliest and holiest of

lovely and holy cities, where the very stones cry out,

eloquent in the elegancies of Iambics. I could not if I

would go to Chesterfield, and I much doubt whether I would

go if I could. I do not hire myself out――after the fashion

of a brainless long tongued puppet――for filthy ducats. You,

and those who told you to write me, want me, I presume, to

come that you may make money for your art class; and if I

should get you much money, you will then tolerate some good

advice from me. No, I will not come.

“I have heard of Chesterfield. Hath it not a

steeple-abomination, and is it not the home――if not the

cradle――of that arch abomination-creator, Stephenson? To him

are we indebted for the screeching and howling and shrieking

fiends fit only for a Pandemonium, called locomotives, that

disfigure the loveliest spots of God’s own land.

“I will not come to Chesterfield. Tell your students that

art is a holy luxury, and they must pay for it. Tell them to

study, to ponder, and to work with a single thought for

perfection, observing loving and strict obedience to the

monitions of their teacher. Let them learn to do things

rightly and humbly, and then, by the conviction that they

can never do them as well as they have been done by others,

they may be profited.

“My good young people, this is pre-eminently the

foolishest――yes, quite the foolishest――notion that you can

get into your empty little egg-shells of heads; that you can

be a Titian, or a Raphael, or a Phidias; or that you can

write like Seneca. But because you cannot be great, that is

no reason why you should not aspire to greatness. In joy,

humility, and humbleness, work together. Only don’t study

art because it will pay, and do not ask for payment because

you study art. Art will make you all wiser and happier, and

is worth paying for. If you are in debt――as I suppose you

are, or why pester me?――pay off your debts yourselves. If

you write to me only that you may get money, you are on the

foolishest of all errands. Wisdom is more precious than

rubies, and is offered to you as a blessing in herself. She

is the reward of industry, kindness and modesty. She is the

prize of prizes, the strength of your life now, and an

earnest of the life that is to come. This advice is better

than money, and I give it to you gratis. Ponder it and

profit by it.――Ever faithfully yours,

JOHN RUSKIN.”

Many were the comments which this letter, widely published, as it

was, created; for scarcely any one doubted the authenticity of

the letter addressed to Chesterfield, a name which recals that of

a celebrated Earl who also wrote letters, but _his_ were on the

art of politeness.

But a few days afterwards Mr. Ruskin denied that he had composed

the epistle; it is, therefore, only of interest now as so clever

a parody of his style that the whole London press was deceived by

it. The following letter, however, was certainly genuine. In June

1886, a circular was addressed to Mr. Ruskin appealing for

subscriptions towards extinquishing the debt of the Baptist

Church at Richmond, to which he replied:――

SIR,――I am sorrowfully amused at your appeal to me, of all

people in the world the precisely least likely to give you a

farthing. My first word to all men and boys who care to hear

me is “Don’t get into debt. Starve, and go to heaven; but

don’t borrow. Try first begging. I don’t mind, if it’s

really needful, stealing. But don’t buy things you can’t pay

for.” And of all manner of debtors, pious people building

churches they can’t pay for are the most detestable nonsense

to me. Can’t you preach and pray behind the hedges, or in a

sandpit, or in a coal-hole first? And of all manner of

churches thus idiotically built, iron churches are the

damnablest to me. And of all the sects and believers in any

ruling spirit, Hindoos, Turks, Feather Idolators, and Mumbo

Jumbo Log and Fire Worshippers, who want churches, your

modern English Evangelical sect is the most absurd and

entirely objectionable and unendurable to me. All which you

might very easily have found out from my books. Any other

sort of sect would, before bothering me to write it to

them.――Ever, nevertheless, and in all this saying, your

faithful servant,

JOHN RUSKIN.

[Illustration]

Having enumerated the most important parodies of our great

novelists, and given such extracts as the limits of space would

permit, it only remains to mention such other prose parodies of

works of fiction, which are either of less merit in themselves,

or mimic authors of less importance than those already dealt

with. This list can only be approximately complete, as there are

hundreds of such parodies buried away in the back numbers of the

Magazines and Comic Journals.

W. Harrison Ainsworth.

_The Age of Lawn Tennis._ A fragment after Harrison Ainsworth’s

“Rookwood.” See _Tennis Cuts and Quips_.

_Old Temple Bar_; by W, Harrissing Ainsworth. See _The Puppet

Showman’s Album_.

_Blueacre._ A Romance, by W. Harrising Painsworth. See _Our

Miscellany_, by E. H. Yates and R. B. Brough.

William Black.

_In Silk Attire._ By W――――m B――――k. See _The Tomahawk_, July 17, 1869.

There was also a parody of Mr. Black, in _The World_.

_A Princess of Lundy._ By W――――m B――――k. See _Ben D’Ymion and other

Novelettes_, by H. F. Lester. London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1887.

This volume also contains:――

_Muddlemarsh_, by George Eliot.

_The Portrait of a Hybrid_, by Henry James.

_A Rustic Zenobia_, by Thomas Hardy.

_James Fribblesaint_, by J. H Shorthouse.

Countess of Blessington.

_Portraits of Children of the Mobility_, drawn from Nature, with

Memoirs and Characteristic Sketches by the Author of the “Comic

English Grammar” (Gilbert A. à Beckett), plates by John Leech.

London, 1841.

A remarkably clever parody upon a publication entitled “Children of

the Nobility,” issued under the auspices of the Countess of

Blessington, the first Edition of which is scarce.

Charlotte Brontë.

_Miss Mix._ By Charlotte Brontë. See _Sensation Novels Condensed_,

by Bret Harte.

Miss Braddon.

_Selina Sedilia._ By Miss M. E. Braddon and Mrs. Henry Wood. See

_Sensation Novels Condensed_, by Bret Harte.

Miss Rhoda Broughton.

_Gone Wrong._ A new Novel by Miss Rhody Dendron,

Authoress of “Cometh down like a Shower,” “Red in

the Nose is She,” etc.

By F. C. Burnand. London, Bradbury, & Co, 1881.

Colonel F. Burnaby.

THE _Ride to Khiva_. By F. C. Burnand. London,

Bradbury, Agnew & Co, 1879. This burlesque of

Colonel Burnaby’s A _Ride to Khiva_ originally appeared

in _Punch_.

Samuel Butler.

_The Irish Hudibras_, or Fingallian Prince. 1689.

_The Whigs’ Supplication_; or, Scotch Hudibras, a mock Poem. By

Samuel Colville. First published in 1681, there have since been

several editions.

_The Lentiad_; or, Peter the Pope pommelled and Pounded with a

Hudibrastic Cudgel. Edited by Rev. John Allan. (Violently

Anti-Catholic.) London, William Freeman, 1863.

_Butler’s Ghost_; or Hudibras, the fourth part, with reflections

upon these times. Tom D’Urfey. 1682.

_The Modern Hudibras_, a poem in three cantos. By George Linley.

London, J. C. Hotten, 1864.

“Cœlebs in search of a Wife.”

_Cœlebs Deceived_, a Novel. 1817.

_Celia in search of a Husband_, by a Modern Antique. 1809.

Miguel Cervantes.

A Chapter from the Book called _The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote

de la Mancha_, which by some mischance has not till now been

printed. London, George Redway, 1887.

(A curious dissertation on the literature of the Occult Sciences.)

_Don Quixote_; or, the Knight of the woeful Countenance. A Romantic

Drama, in two acts. By George Almar, Surrey Theatre London, April 8,

1833. (Dicks).

Don Quixote was also dramatised at the Alhambra Theatre, London, a

few years ago.

Wilkie Collins.

_The Moonstone and Moonshine_, after Wilkie Collins. This parody

appeared in _The Mask_, London, August 1868.

_No Title_, by Wilkie Collins. See _Sensation Novels Condensed_, by

Bret Harte.

Thomas Day.

_The New History of Sandford and Merton._ Being a True Account of

the Adventures of “Masters Tommy and Harry,” with their Beloved

Tutor, “Mr. Barlow.” By F. C. Burnand, with 76 Illustrations by

Linley Sambourne.

London, Bradbury, Agnew & Co. 1871.

Of all Mr. Burnand’s burlesques, this is probably the most humorous;

the immortal tutor prig, Mr. Barlow, the funny moral tales, and the

equally funny illustrations, can scarcely be surpassed.

Daniel Defoe.

_The New Robinson Crusoe_, an Instructive and Entertaining History

for the Children of both sexes. Thirty-two woodcuts by John Bewick.

London, 1811.

_Robinson Crusoe_ was translated into Latin by F. J. Goffaux in

1823, there are several French versions of it, the “Swiss Family

Robinson,” and one in German called “Robinson the Younger,” by J. H.

Campe.

_Robinson the Younger_, translated from the German of J. H. Campe.

Hamburg, 1781.

Benjamin Disraeli.

_Anti-Coningsby_, or the New Generation grown old. By an embryo M.P.

(Mr. W. North). 1844.

_Hythair._ By Walter Parke, Funny Folks, 1876.

_Splendimion_, or, the Asian Mystery. A Grand “Diz”-torical Romance.

By Walter Parke. _Funny Folks_, 1880.

Charles Dickens.

In the list of plays founded on his novels, given on p. 226, the

following should have been included:――

_A Christmas Carol._ By E. Stirling. Adelphi Theatre. February 5,

1844. (Barth.)

_The Chimes._ By E. Stirling, Lyceum Theatre, December, 26, 1844.

_A Christmas Carol._ By Charles Webb, (Barth.)

_Martin Chuzzlewit._ By Harry Minus, Oxford Theatre, Easter Monday,

1878, (Dicks).

These entries have been courteously supplied by Mr. T. F. Dillon

Croker.

Hugh Conway.

_Much Darker Days._ By A. Huge Longway, author of “Scrawled Black,”

“Unbound,” etc.

London, Longmans, Green and Co., 1884. Anonymous, preface signed A.

H. L.

A later edition of this parody of Hugh Conway’s _Dark Days_ was

published in 1885, with an apologetic Preface.

_Hauled Back, by his Wife._ By Ugo Gone-away Hugaway. (Anonymous)

London, J. and R. Maxwell, 1885.

Henry Fielding.

_The History of Tom Jones the Foundling, in his Married State_,

London, 1750.

_Tom Jones_, a Comic Opera, as performed at Covent Garden Theatre,

the words by Joseph Reed.

_Tom Jones_ was also dramatised by Robert Buchanan, as well as

_Joseph Andrews_, the title of which he changed to _Joseph’s

Sweetheart_.

Mrs. Gore.

_Mammon’s Marriage_, by Mrs. Bore. See _The Shilling Book of

Beauty_, by Cuthbert Bede.

Fergus W. Hume.

A BLOOD CURDLING ROMANCE.

_The Mystery of a Wheelbarrow_; or, Gaboriau Gaborooed. By W. Humer

Ferguson. London, Walter Scott, 1888. A parody of _The Mystery of a

Hansom Cab_, by Fergus W. Hume, of Melbourne, Australia.

G. P. R. James.

_The Page._ A Romaunt from English history, by Gustavus Penny Royal

Jacobus. See _Our Miscellany_, by E. H. Yates and R. B. Brough.

_The Passage of Prawns._ A Tale of Picardy, by George Prince Regent

James. See _The Puppet Showman’s Album_.

_In Cruikshank’s Almanac_ for 1846, will be found an article

entitled “Hints to Novelists,” in which short imitations are given

of G. P. R. James, C. Dickens, and Fennimore Cooper.

_Barbazure_, by G. P. R. Jeames, Esq. See _Novels by Eminent Hands_,

by W. M. Thackeray. (These originally appeared in _Punch_.)

_Magnum of Burgundy._ A Romance of the Fronde. See _A Bowl of

Punch_, by Albert Smith.

_The Robber of Idleburg_, by Walter Parke. See _The Comic News_,

London. 1864.

Charles Lever.

_Phil. Fogarty._ A Tale of the Fighting Onety-oneth. By Harry

Rollicker. See _Novels by Eminent Hands_, by W. M. Thackeray.

_Terence Deuville_, by Charles L――v――r. See _Sensation Novels

Condensed_, by Bret Harte.

_Tom Kinnahan_, or the Frays and Fights of a Horse Marine. By

Charles Heaver, author of the “Confessions of Larry Jollycur,” etc.

See _The Puppet Showman’s Album_.

Lord Lytton.

_The Wrongful Heir_; or, What will they do with him? A Strange

Story. By Walter Parke. _Judy_, 1869.

Baron Munchausen.

_The Travels and Surprising adventures of Baron Munchausen._ First

English Edition Oxford, 1786.

There can be little doubt but what this amusing piece of nonsense

was written to ridicule certain German memoirs, some say those of

Baron de Tott, others say those of Baron Von Trenck. The authorship

of the work was also the subject of dispute, but it is now generally

ascribed to G. A. Bürger, the German poet, who died in 1794.

In 1792 there appeared _A Sequel to the Adventures of Baron

Munchausen_ which was _humbly dedicated_ to Mr. Bruce, the

celebrated Abyssinian traveller.

_The Surprising, Unheard of, and Never-to-be-surpassed Adventures of

Young Munchausen_, related and illustrated by C. H. Bennett. In

twelve “Stories.” London, Routledge & Co., 1865.

This originally appeared in Routledge’s _Every Boy’s Annual_.

“Ouida.” (Louise de la Ramée.)

_Blue Blooded Bertie_, or under two fires. A serial burlesque of

Ouida’s “Under Two Flags,” by Walter Parke. _Funny Folks_, 1875.

Samuel Pepys.

_The Diary of Samuel Pepys Esq._, while an undergraduate at

Cambridge. With notes and appendix. Cambridge: Jonathan Palmer,

1864. This clever parody ran through several Editions, it was

thought to be the production of Mr. Cooke, a student of Emanuel

College, Cambridge.

_Mr. Pips, hys Diary._ Manners and Customs of ye English, 1849. By

Percival Leigh, with illustrations by Richard Doyle.

_The University Commission_, or, Lord John Russell’s Postbag,

containing Mister Anthony Pepys his Diary, he being a member of the

said Commission. Oxford, W. Baxter, 1850.

(Written in the style of Pepys’ Diary.)

Charles Reade.

_Chikkin Hazard._ A Novel by Charles Readit and Dion Bounceycore.

This parody on _Fowl Play_, written by Mr. F. C. Burnand, first

appeared in _Punch_, it was afterwards issued in book form by

Bradbury, Agnew & Co., 1881.

Sir Walter Scott.

_Rebecca and Rowena._ A sequel to _Ivanhoe_. By W. M. Thackeray.

_Pontefract Castle_, a novel attributed to Sir W. Scott. Contained

in _Tales of my Landlord_, new series, published in 1820.

Sir Walter Scott formally disavowed this work at the end of his

introduction to “The Monastery,” 1830.

_Waverley._ An abridged edition was published by Knight and Lacy,

London, 1827, with the title page “Novels, Tales, and Romances” by

Sir Walter Scott, abridged and illustrated by _Sholto Percy_. This

appears to have been a gross piracy.

_Moredun_: A tale of the Twelve Hundred and Ten, by W. S. This was

published in 1855, as a newly discovered Waverley novel.

_Walladmor._ (2 vols. 1855). A Novel, by De Quincey, which purported

to be “Freely translated into German from the English of Sir Walter

Scott, and now freely translated from the German into English.” It

appears that German readers were actually hoaxed into the belief

that this novel was by Scott.

Hawley Smart.

_What’s the Odds?_ or, The Dumb Jockey of Teddington. A sporting

novel by Major Jawley Sharp.

By F. C. Burnand, London, Bradbury and Co., 1879.

(This originally appeared in _Punch_.)

Horace Smith.

_Whitehall; or, the Days of George IV._ Dedicated to Sir Edmund

Nagle, K.C.B. London. W. Marsh, 1827.

Horace Smith, one of the authors of _Rejected Addresses_, wrote a

number of historical novels, most of which are now entirely

forgotten. One of these was called _Brambletye House_, to ridicule

which Dr. William Maginn wrote _Whitehall_.

“The author’s object,” said the _Quarterly Review_, in January 1828,

“is to laugh down the Brambletye House species of novel; and for

this purpose we are presented with such an historical romance as an

author of Brambletye House, flourishing in Barbadoes 200 or 2,000

years hence, we are not certain which, nor is the circumstance of

material moment, might fairly be expected to compose of and

concerning the personages, manners, and events of the age and

country in which we live * * * * The book is, in fact, a series of

parodies upon unfortunate Mr. Horace Smith,――and it is paying the

author no compliment to say that his mimicry (with all its

imperfections) deserves to outlive the ponderous original.”

But _Whitehall_ is itself, almost as heavy and as tedious, as the

work it parodies.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

_The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, by Robert Louis

Stevenson. This weird and powerful story was dramatised by Mr. T.

Russell Sullivan, and produced at the Lyceum Theatre in August 1888,

Mr. Richard Mansfield performed the two title parts.

Another, but very inferior version, was brought out at the Opera

Comique, London, by Mr. Bandmann about the same time, which the

critics very unkindly laughed at as a ridiculous burlesque. Legal

proceedings, however, soon compelled Mr. Bandmann to withdraw his

unfortunate adaptation, and hurriedly close the theatre.

_The Strange case of the Prime Minister and Mr. Muldoon_, by Arthur

Law, (London, 1886) was a sixpenny political pamphlet written to

ridicule the Earl of Granville, Lord Hartington, Mr. Parnell and Mr.

Gladstone.

The best thing in it was the following little parody:――

“You are old, father William,” the young man said,

“You are not far off eighty, I ween;

And yet you can speak for an hour or two

And no one find out what you mean.”

“In my youth,” father William replied to his son,

“All my scruples I laid on the shelf;

And now to drag from me a plain yes or no

Would puzzle the devil himself.”

_The Pirate’s Hand._ A Romance of Heredity. By the Author of “The

Strange case of Doctor Shuffle and Mister Glyde.” London, “Judy”

office, 1888.

Jonathan Swift.

_Hints to Servants_; being a poetical and modernised version of Dean

Swift’s celebrated “Directions to Servants.” By an Upper Servant.

1843.

Swift himself wrote some burlesques, amongst them one in prose, _A

Meditation on a Broomstick_, in imitation of the style of the Hon.

Robert Boyle’s Meditations.

His witty _Directions to Servants_, and _The Polite and Ingenious

Conversations_, satirical and frequently indecent as they are, are

also burlesques of their topics, treated in a very original manner.

Various imitations of the _Directions to Servants_ have been

written.

Swift’s _Tale of a Tub Reversed_ for the universal improvement of

mankind. 1750.

_Gulliver Revived_; or, the Vice of Lying properly Exposed,

containing singular travels, campaigns, adventures, &c. by Baron

Munchausen, also, a _Sequel to the Adventures_ dedicated to Bruce,

the Abyssinian Traveller. 1789-92.

_Lilliput_, being a new journey to that celebrated island, with an

account of the manners, customs, &c., of those famous little people,

by Lemuel Gulliver, 1766.

A political skit. The names are thinly disguised by the

transposition of letters.

_Voyage to Locuta_; a Fragment, with etchings and notes of

illustrations. By Lemuel Gulliver Junr. London, J. Hatchard 1818. A

curious little grammatical work written in the form of an allegory,

and as a sequel to Gulliver’s travels. (Scarce).

_Gulliver and Munchausen outdone_, by Peter Vangergoose. London,

1807.

W. M. Thackeray.

_The Coachman, the Cook, and their Prodigy the Page._ By Wm.

Breakpeace Thwackaway.

See _The Shilling Book of Beauty_. This parody was written by the

late J. H. Friswell.

_Mrs. Tippikens’ Yellow Velvet Cape._ By W. M. Thwackaway. (With an

illustration by the author).

See _The Puppet Showman’s Album_. This little brochure also contains

prose imitations of Lytton, G. P. R. James, B. Disraeli, C. Dickens,

Charles Lever, T. Carlyle, W. H. Ainsworth, Douglas Jerrold, W. S.

Landor, Mrs. Trollope, J. W. Croker and Albert Smith, most of which

have already been quoted.

Anthony Trollope.

_The Beadle!_ or, the Latest Chronicle of Small-Beerjester, by

Anthony Dollop. _Punch_, 1880.

_The Age of Lawn-Tennis._ After Anthony Trollope. See _Tennis Cuts

and Quips_. London, Field and Tuer.

Edmund Yates.

_Ba! Ba! Black Sheep._ An imitation, with a portrait of Mr. Yates,

appeared in _The Mask_. London. June, 1868.

――――:o:――――

_Guy Dyingstone_, or the Muscular Patrician. A burlesque Novel by

Walter Parke. _Funny Folks_, 1875.

_Guy Deadstone._ Another burlesque of “Guy Livingstone,” by the same

author, appeared in _Judy_, 1869.

_The Desperado of the Wilderness_: or, The Maid, the Murderer, and the

Demon Huntsman of Ashantee. This was a thrilling narrative of the

“Boys of England” type, it appeared in Gleanings from “The Blue” 1881.

_Our Boys Novelist_, being stories of Wild Sport for the Youths of all

Nations, with illustrations of the correctly exaggerated type by Harry

Furniss, appeared in _Punch_, 1882.

――――

THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

――――pull up the wicket and the stake,

And put by the mallet and the ball;

For no more Croquet will be played this year,

It’s getting much too late in the fall.

[Illustration]

PROGRAMMES AND PROCESSIONS.

YE ANNUALE WHYTEBAITE DINNER

OF

HYR MAJESTYE’S MINISTERS,

On WEDNESDAIE, ye 14th AUGUST, 1878,

Atte ye Hostelrie yclept

Ye SHIPPE, atte GREENWICHE.

This Bille of ye Fare is drawn in playne Englysh, without any cloake

of Frenche or other foreygne tongue, for the sadde and sobere comforte

of frendes, and that ye maye know what ye are asked to accept.

YE BILLE OF YE FARE.

Ye Soupe.

Soupe made from ye Turtle, and alsoe

Soupe made from ye Greene Fatte of ye same.

Ye Fyshe.

Ye Flounders curyously cooked, and

Salmonne servyd inne lyke mannere.

Ryssoles of ye Lobstere.

Ye lyttel Soles, fryed.

Ye Pudynges of ye Whyting.

Ye Eles skynned and stewed inne ye riche wyne of Oporto.

Ye Omelette of Crabbe inne ye style as servyd to

ye Guardes of ye _Blue Seale_.

Ye Troute from ye River Spey, grylled with ye sauce of Tartar.

Salmonne inne collopes, with ye sauce inne ye Cyprus fashonne.

Ye Whytebaite, be-frizzled, and alsoe be-devylled.

Fleshe and Fowle.

Sweetbreades with ye Mushroomes added thereunto.

Ye Haunche of ye Royale Bucke, with Haricotte

Beans servyd therewith.

Ye Antient Hamme, from ye Citye of Yorke,

grylled inne wyne of Champagne.

Ye Grouse from ye Northe Countree.

Hogge Bacone and younge Beanes.

Ye Sweetes, &c.

Apprycottes flavoured with Noyau.

Pudynges iced, after ye Nesselrode mannere.

Lyttel Cakes made with ye Cheese from Parma, inne Italie.

Ye Ices flavoured with Oranges and Strauberres.

Divers Fruytes which are your Desertes, and ye

Wynes of Champagne and manie outlandysh countrees.

Ye Dinner will be servyd after ye mannere of ye Russian people.

Ye Guestes are bydden to eate after ye Hungarie mannere.

W. T. BALE, Mastere.

――――:o:――――

Miss Louisa Alcorn, a musical lady of New York, gave a dinner to a

party of operatic friends. Here is the _menu_:――

Overture of Blue points.

Soup with vermicelli obligato.

Crabs al largo.

Andante of Veal.

Maccaroni scherzo.

Gavotte of Pork and Beans.

Pepper Sauce allegretto.

Roast Beef maestoso.

Tomato torcata, and bourrée of Yorkshire pudding.

Ducks with accompaniments in P.’s.

Game (in not too high a key).

A symphony in Sweets.

――――:o:――――

The following was the menu of the Capital Club dinner, held on

January 31st 1885.

MENU.

“Man shall not live by bread alone.”――Matthew iv., 4.

[Entries close at 8 o’clock. Open to all members. Start from scratch.]

OYSTERS.

Bluepoints, double geared. Fluted forks.

SOUP.

Volaille au Riz l’Allemande tra la la le.

FISH.

Red Snapper, elliptical backbone, Shrimp sauce.

Hollandaise Potatoes, tandem.

RELEVE.

Saddle of Southdown mutton, long distance.

Capon braise, a la Toulouse, not too loose.

ENTREES.

Filet de Bœuf, piqué, with laced spokes.

Cotelettes de Mouton, with power traps.

Spring Chicken, fried, with noiseless ratchets.

Quail on toast, with rat-trap pedals.

Punch, a la Cardinal, Pope M’f’g Company.

GAME.

Canvas Back Duck, buckled, with Croton Waste.

Venison, with Currant Jelly, shrunk on.

Pool, with set ups. Billiards, with ball-bearings.

SALADS.

Lobsters narrow-tread. Chicken, with gunmetal hubs.

VEGETABLES.

Green Peas, droped forged. Sweet Corn, half-nickled.

Baked Mashed Potatoes, on the dead centre.

Stewed Tomatoes, anti-friction.

DESSERT.

Tapioca Pudding, non-corrodent sauce.

Assorted Cakes, enamelled and striped.

Strawberry Ice Cream, on one wheel.

Macaroons, Invincible double section hollow rims.

Fruits, sociable. Champagne Jelly, hands-off.

Roquefort Cheese, hill climbing.

LIQUORS.

French Coffee. Aqua Pura, Glace à la Artesian.

Music by Schrœder.

――――:o:――――

PRESCRIPTION FOR FEELIN’ BAD.

iii gr. _Aquy pury_.

About ¼ pint _Whiskii Hyberniæ_.

⅛ inch _Lemoni_ } _ad discretionem._

iii dr. _Lumpi sugari_}

_Mixiter cum crusher._

_Directions for application._

Foment the interior of the mouth with ⅛ of the mixture. Shortly after

use ⅛ as a gargle, the same to be washed down with the remainder

forthwithly.

_The Hornet_, 1871.

――――:o:――――

_UN_-OFFICIAL PROGRAMME

OF THE

LORD MAYOR’S SHOW for 1884.

BY DEPUTY CHAFF-WAX.

(_This is much too long to be given in full_)

The Services of the City Trumpeters will be dispensed with, the Lord

Mayor having signified his intention of blowing his own, for which

service he is eminently qualified.

ALDERMAN SAVORY

Will enliven the March by singing scraps of Dr. Watts’ hymns.

ALDERMAN H. T. WATERLOW

(the _Alphabet_ Alderman) is to be escorted by the twenty-six electors

who made him an Alderman and Magistrate for life!!!

SIR JOHN BENNETT AND ALDERMAN HADLEY

will march arm-in-arm in sack-cloth and ashes doing penance for their

presumption.

The Banners of the City Knights will be emblazoned with the new

device:――

“REAL TURTLE AND MOCK TITLES”

The Banner of ALDERMAN TEETOTUM WHITEHEAD bearing the Inscription

“VIDEO MELIORA PROBOQUE DETERIORA SEQUOR.”

CAPTAIN SHAW OF THE FIRE BRIGADE

will attend with his own hose, and if necessary, to restrain the

enthusiastic reception of the Lord Mayor, will play upon the people.

BUMBLEDOM

Is to be represented by all the Companies and Parish Beadles and Jacks

in office in London, with cocked hats, gold lace, mace, cinnamon, &c.

Banner of LORD MAYOR FOWLER,

with the device

_The motto for Liberals permit me to mention,

“Bradlaugh and Blasphemy” is my invention._

MAJOR SEWELL AND SIR T. NELSON

Will exhibit the Secret Service Cash Book.

The Splendid Banner of the League, with the device――

“WHY SHOULD LONDON WAIT,”

Borne by Messrs. Firth, Beal, Lloyd, and Phillips.

A CARTOON OF LAZARUS AND DIVES REPRESENTING

On one side――Civic Satraps dining――

On the other, “Out-cast London”――pining.

ONE POLICEMAN ARM-IN-ARM.

The City Marshall on Horseback Singing, “Let me Like a Soldier Fall.”

A DISSOLVING VIEW

of the odious Coal and Wine Dues, (The Metropolitan Board doing a

Break-down.)

DEPUTY BEDFORD,

the City Wag, will join the procession at Temple Bar, where he will

await it on his £12,000 Griffin.

THE WONDERFUL BILL OF THE CIVIC BANQUET WHICH COST £27,000!!!

Will be carried by the Common Councilmen who ate it, to amuse the

people who paid for it.

THE SHERIFFS

will be preceded by the band of the Rueful Brigade, playing selections

from Madame Hang-o’.

THE TROPHIES OF OUR COLONIES WILL BE FOLLOWED BY THE

TROPHIES OF OUR LONDON SLUMS, FOLLOWED BY NEMESIS!!

THE RT. HON. SIR WM. VERNON HARCOURT, M.P.,

Will ask the populace at every stoppage

“_If they will submit to the dictation of the Leeds Caucus and

suffer the Constitution to be tinkered at, while the heart of the

Empire is suffering from congestion_.”

THE BANNER OF THE UNION

Will be followed by the 90,000 London Paupers.

THE LATE LORD MAYOR

Will be serenaded by the Vauxhall Water Co.’s

Share-holders――“Good Night――Good Knight,” &c.

LORD MAYOR FOWLER

Will be preceded by a Herald who will announce the fact that his

Lordship represents some 200 nobodies and will shine for 12 months in

the reflected light of FOUR MILLIONS, but in consideration of his

gentleness, dignity, and urbanity, and in the hope that he will be

THE LAST OF THE SHAMS

He must be tolerated accordingly.

This tomfoolery now will be brought to a close in a very appropriate

way, sir, By Alderman Finis and Corpulent Innes, and Alderman Polly

Decay Sir.

N.B.――The Chairman of the S. E. Rly. will be an hour behind time.――As

usual.

――――

THE LORD MAYORS SHOW, 1884.

Mounted Police clearing five-barred gates. City Police

clearing their throats.

The Mayors of Brighton, Ramsgate, and Margate in Bathing

Machines drawn by their own Horses.

A lot of people whom nobody knows in hired flys.

THE COMPANY OF POLITICIANS.

The PREMIER, Axing his way.

Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT, with Municipal Bill, arm-in-arm.

One hundred Members of the House of Peers, in morning dress.

The old Chain Pier from Brighton in full armour.

The Faithful Wimbledon, Wandsworth and Putney Commons.

THE COMPANY OF PAINTERS.

Twenty Royal Academicians, in beautiful modern costumes,

in a chariot _Drawn by Themselves_!!

THE COMPANY OF WRITERS.

Lord TENNYSON, in his Inverness cape and coronet.

Professor RUSKIN, anyhow.

A round dozen of the Incorporated Society of Authors, assorted.

THE COMPANY OF PLAYERS.

Mr. TOOLE drawing a House.

Walking Gentlemen coming slowly as “Strollers”

The Jersey Lily and Lyceum MARY, as Sandwich Girls,

carrying Somebody’s Soft Soap.

THE COMPANY OF WARRIORS.

Our Only General, in his only uniform.

Our Only Admiral, a little out of date.

Ironclads on horseback. Each mounted on an old screw.

THE COMPANY OF ROYALTIES.

Royalties on Songs, Royalties on Books, Royalties on everything.

Mr. GEORGE GROSSMITH as “The Susceptible Chancellor,”

followed by all THE JUDGES of Wine, of

Pictures, of Plays, and THE JUDGE OF THE RACE

in his own private box.

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD MAYOR,

as “A Positive,” bearing banner with motto

“_Photo de Mieux_,”

In his State Robes,

Supported by the Stereoscopic Company.

The Procession will be closed by

A NEGATIVE OF THE LATE LORD MAYOR

Accompanied by a Band playing “_Love for a Year_!”

_Punch._

――――:o:――――

HOW THEY’LL OPEN THE INVENTORIES.

Massed Steel Band,

Composed of Eminent Surgeons, playing on their Surgical

Instruments.

Tune――“The Savile Row Lancers.”

Specimens of Agricultural Implements, marshalled by a

Steam Drill Master.

Steam Ploughs and their Chères, arm in arm.

Thrashing Machines following in the beaten track.

A detachment of Devonshire Hinds (hinder part before).

Delegates from the National Agricultural Labourers’

Union, bearing their own Triumphal “Arch.”

Band, playing “The Cameras are coming.”

Photographic Apparatus, focussing and swearing.

Miss Mary Anderson, drawn in a brightly-coloured “carte”

Two Negatives making a Positive.

Two Positivists taking a Negative.

A Photographic Sportsman taking a Fence.

Band, playing “The Harp that once through Tara’s

Halls,” and the Tune the old cow died of.

Cue-rious Instruments, headed by two “Jiggers.”

“P-an’-O” Boats, with sales set on the Three Years’

Hire System.

The first pair of “Lyres” ever discovered.

A Predatory Brass Band, playing “Band-ditties.”

Sample of the “Horns” originally exalted in the East.

“Cavendish,” playing “The Last Trump.”

Deputation from the “Portland,” playing little Clubs.

Mr. Charles Warner, singing his “Last Chaunts.”

Gold Band, playing “All round my hat.”

Novel Inventions three abreast.

Miss Braddon and “Ouida” inventing plots.

Padding.

Dramatists inventing Situations.

More Padding.

Hydraulic Presses collecting Water Rates.

Captive Balloonatics (with their Keepers).

Armour-plated “Monitors.” Lent by the King’s College

School authorities.

Fountains, playing Handel’s “Water Music.”

A Thames Angler, playing a Fish.

Band of Swindlers, playing False Cards.

Diplomatic Inventions à la Russe.

The latest thing in Despatches Invented by General Komaroff.

Band of Diplomatists, playing the Fool.

_Funny Folks_, May, 1885.

――――:o:――――

THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW, 1885.

The following programme originally appeared in _The Sporting Times_,

November 7, 1885. It has been found necessary to abbreviate it, partly

because it was too long, and partly because it was too broad.

Next Monday this time-honoured procession will once more

perambulate the streets, squares, ponds, reservoirs, and

bars of the metropolis. Every one being sick of the

Guildhall, it will this year start from Bow Street, passing

by the stage-door of the Gaiety Theatre, proceeding through

the Gaiety grill room, into Prosser’s Avenue. The procession

will then proceed _vià_ Drury Lane Theatre to the Royal,

returning by Rules’ in Maiden Lane, down to Romano’s.

Thence, if not interfered with by the police, and still

sufficiently sober to proceed, it will march to the

Criterion, _en route_ for Hatchett’s. After that its course

is a trifle uncertain. The order of the procession will be

as follows:――

POLICE UNARMED WITH REVOLVERS.

Burglars Beating Police.

Police Armed with Revolvers.

Ambulance Waggons

Containing

Respectable Citizens shot down as Burglars.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF LUMBERERS.

Banner of the Banner of the

Punching Machine. Lord Chief Justice.

The Lumberer’s Band.

Triumphal Car depicting Early English Industries. On this

vehicle, kindly lent by the Worshipful Company of Card

Makers, will be depicted, as the procession rolls by, the

whole Art and Science of faking the broads, cutting longs

and shorts, of dealing the long hand, and abundances at

Solo.

Welshers who have passed into Tattersall’s.

Welshers who have been chucked while endeavouring to pass

into Tattersall’s.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF BAT MAKERS.

Banner of J. L. Shine. Banner of John Coleman.

BANNER OF LADY ARCHIE CAMPBELL.

The Bat Band.

_Air_: “Batti! Batti!”

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF CHILDREN PROTECTORS.

Banner of Darby. Banner of Stead.

Banner of Booth. Banner of Blobbs.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF TAPEMAKERS.

Banner of the Albert Club.

The Governor of Holloway.

The Governor of Pentonville.

Late Friends of the Governor’s on Tickets of Leave.

Present Friends of the Governor’s on Treadmills.

Aldermen who have passed the chair.

Aldermen who have passed the bottle.

Aldermen who have passed nothing.

Banner of Beecham. Banner of Cockle.

Banner bearing motto, “N. S.”

Banner bearing motto, “Refer to Drawer.”

Banner bearing motto, “No Account.”

Banner of Sewage Banner of Billingsgate

Commissioners. Fish Ring.

Banner of Mudsalad Market.

Band of Her Majesty’s Scavengers.

THE LADY MAYORESS SHIFTER

In a Brompton ’Bus,

Attended by Her Landlady.

Banner of the Gaiety Theatre Canteen.

THE LORD MAYOR.

People with People with

Aquiline Noses. Snub Noses.

TRIUMPHAL CAR, representing the Search For Chips

or

“Where is the Oofbird?”

――――:o:――――

THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW, 1886.

(THE YEAR OF THE SOCIALIST SCARE.)

It is stated that the Lord Mayor’s Show this year will be of an

entirely novel character, and will be made up somewhat like

this:――

THE CITY MARSHAL,

On horseback, glued to the saddle for the sake of safety.

DETACHMENT OF THE LIGHT CAVALRY OF THE VERY ANCIENT

AND STILL MORE HONOURABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY,

Dismounted for fear of accidents.

THE CHIEF COMMISSIONER OF THE CITY POLICE,

Escorted by a detachment of the Social Democratic Federation.

BANNER OF THE UNEMPLOYED.

BAND OF THE UNITED ORDER OF GERMAN MUSICIANS.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF CITY GORGERS.

BANNER OF CHARLES HARRIS, ESQ.

CHARLES HARRIS, ESQ.,

Seated on a triumphal car.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF SCENE SHIFTERS.

BAND OF THE ROYAL HORSE MARINES. (GREEN).

ALDERMEN WHO HAVE PASSED THE BOTTLE.

ALDERMEN WHO HAVE NOT PASSED THE BOTTLE,

But have preferred to keep it near them.

BANNER OF THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF LOAN MONGERS.

BANNER OF COMMISSIONER KERR.

BAND OF THE ROYAL DISMOUNTED INFANTRY.

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD MAYOR’S CARRIAGE,

Containing the Sword and Mace Bearers, the Lord Mayor

being absent on other business.

ESCORT OF THE ROYAL HORSE MARINES. (GREEN).

RAG.

TAG.

BOBTAIL.

[Illustration]

It has been considered advisable to omit the scriptural quotations

from the following reprint:――

COPY OF A BILL WRITTEN BY THE LATE

REV. ROWLAND HILL,

which was stuck up at

RICHMOND,

On SATURDAY, 4th of June, 1774, close to the Play Bill

for that day.

The design was to divert the minds of the gay and dissipated,

from the vain amusements of the

THEATRE

And to fix their attention on the awful circumstances which

shall usher in, and succeed,

“The Great and Terrible Day of the Lord.”

――――

BY COMMAND OF the KING OF KINGS,

and at the desire of all who love his appearing.

At the

THEATRE OF THE UNIVERSE

on the Eve of time, will be performed

THE GREAT ASSIZE

or

DAY OF JUDGMENT,

――――

THE SCENERY

Which is now actually preparing, will not only surpass

everything that has yet been seen, but will infinitely

exceed the utmost stretch of human conception. There will be

a just REPRESENTATION of ALL THE INHABITANTS of the WORLD,

in their various and proper colours; and their costumes and

manners will be so exact, and so minutely delineated, that

the most secret thought will be discovered.

This THEATRE will be laid out after a new plan,

and will consist of

PIT & GALLERY

only; and contrary to all others, the GALLERY is fitted up

for the reception of Persons of High (or Heavenly) Birth,

and the PIT for those of Low (or Earthly) Rank. N.B.――The

GALLERY is very spacious, and the PIT without bottom.

To prevent inconvenience, there are separate doors for

admitting the company; and they are so different that none

can mistake that are not wilfully blind. The Door which

opens into the GALLERY is very narrow, and the steps up to

it somewhat difficult: for which reason there are seldom

many people about it. But the Door that gives entrance into

the PIT is very commodious: which causes such numbers to

flock to it that it is generally crowded. N.B.――The straight

Door leads towards the right hand, and the broad one to the

left. It will be in vain for one in a tinselled coat and

borrowed language to personate one of HIGH BIRTH in order to

get admittance into the upper places, for there is One of

wonderful and deep penetration who will search and examine

every individual and all who cannot pronounce SHIBBOLETH in

the language of _Canaan_, or has not received a white stone

and a new name, or cannot prove a clear title to a certain

portion of the LAND OF PROMISE, must be turned in at the

left door.

ACT FIRST.

of this grand and solemn piece will be opened by

AN ARCHANGEL WITH THE TRUMP OF GOD!!!

ACT SECOND.

PROCESSION OF SAINTS

In white, with Golden Harps, accompanied with Shouts of

Joy and Songs of Praise.

ACT THIRD.

AN ASSEMBLAGE OF ALL THE UNREGENERATE, THE MUSIC will

chiefly consist of Cries, accompanied with WEEPING, WAILING,

MOURNING, LAMENTATION, and WOE.

To conclude with an oration by

THE SON OF GOD.

After which the Curtain will drop.

TICKETS for the PIT, at the easy purchase of following the

pomps and vanities of the Fashionable World, and the desires

and amusements of the Flesh, to be had at every

Flesh-pleasing Assembly.

TICKETS for the GALLERY, at no less rate than being

converted, forsaking all, denying self, taking up the Cross,

and following Christ in the Regeneration. To be had no where

but in the word of God, and where that word appoints.

N.B.――No money will be taken at the door, nor will any

Tickets give admittance into the Gallery but those sealed by

the Lamb.

[Illustration]

COMPANY PROSPECTUSES.

Of late years the British public has been surfeited with the

Prospectuses of new Limited Liability Companies; needy Lords and

retired officers have been in great request for the Boards of

Directors, they being precisely the two classes of men least likely to

have any knowledge of business, or experience in commercial affairs.

Some of these Prospectuses have been so ridiculous in themselves that

they read like burlesques, but numbers of amusing parodies of Company

Prospectuses have also been published.

One of the best and earliest of these appeared in _Blackwood’s

Magazine_, October 1845 during the great Railway Mania. It was written

by Professor Aytoun, and was styled “How we got up the Glenmutchin

Railway, and how we got out of it.”

This detailed the inception of a bogus Scotch Railway, and the

prospectus of the _Direct Glenmutchin Railway_, with a list of the

Directors, is one of the finest pieces of humorous writing in the

language.

Another amusing parody was brought out some years ago, namely “The

Gott-up Hotel Company, Limited,” with Sir Titus A. Drum, Baronet, as

Chairman of the Directors.

When the Crown Prince of Portugal visited London in 1883, he went to

Claridge’s Hotel, as he had not been invited to any of the Royal

Palaces, this caused _Mr. Punch_ to issue the following:――

PROMISING PROSPECTUS.

THE ROYAL AND IMPERIAL HOMELESS AND WANDERING

VISITORS HOTEL COMPANY (LIMITED).

The Directors of this unique and magnificently conceived

enterprise, undertaken with a view to supplying that now

long experienced National want, a suitable palatial

residence for Princes and Potentates found wandering in

search of a fitting domicile about the back streets of the

Metropolis, have much pleasure in informing their intended

august Patrons, that their perfectly-appointed establishment

will shortly open under the direction of a well-known and

experienced retired Central-European Monarch, whose

distinguished services they have had the honour to secure.

The following (extracted from the Company’s Abridged

Prospectus) comprise a few of the leading features of the

new establishment:――

The building will stand on a convenient and imposing site

judiciously selected in the immediate vicinity of the

Metropolitan District Railway Station, St. James’s Park,

and within easy access of the Aquarium, Westminster

Bridge, the House of Detention, and the Foreign Office.

There will be no lettered name or title on the _façade_ of

the new Hotel, which will, with the object of giving rise

to a pleasing illusion, be specially designed by the

architect to resemble as far as possible that of a not far

distant and generally unoccupied Royal Palace.

A trained and certificated Diplomatist, who can speak

several European languages fluently, will be permanently

attached to the staff of the establishment, and will give

his services gratis.

A couple of effective Sentry Boxes will also be placed at

the principal entrance, and occupied permanently by two of

the Company’s Private Soldiers, who, dressed in the

correct uniform of HER MAJESTY’S Foot Guards, will be

efficiently drilled for their duty.

Gold Sticks in Waiting will attend in the Hall for the

purpose of receiving Royal and Imperial Visitors. They

will also, if desired to do so, precede them to their

respective apartments, walking backwards up-stairs for a

small extra charge.

The general scheme of the establishment will include several

public Throne and Reading Rooms, A Privy Council Chamber,

Gala Banquet Hall, and a series of excellent Billiard and

Abdication Tables by the best makers.

In order to meet the requirements of august personages who

desire to be surrounded at a reasonable cost with such State

accessories as are proper to their dignity and position, the

subjoined Tariff of Prices has been carefully arranged by

the Management, in the hope that it will be found not

incompatible with a charge on the most moderate civil

list:――

TARIFF.

Private Royal or Imperial Sitting-Room

(per day) 5_s._ to 7_s_ 6_d._

(Ditto, ditto, with throne, 2_s._ 6_d._ extra.)

Ditto Bed-Room (exclusive of light) 3_s._ to 6_s._

State Imperial ditto, with half-tester

velvet canopy 8_s._

Double-bedded ditto (suitable for two Emperors) 14_s._

Breakfast, consisting of Tea or Coffee, with

cold Meat, broiled Ham, or Eggs 2_s._ 6_d._

Ditto, ditto, with full Military Band outside 3_s._

Chop or Steak, with potatoes 1_s._ 6_d._

Ditto, ditto, with Salvos of Artillery

at intervals 1_s._ 9_d._

State Dinner of Soup, or Fish, _Entrées_, Joint,

with Cheese and Celery 3_s._ 6_d._

Ditto, ditto, including Toast-Master and Musical

Grace 5_s._

Ditto, ditto, in Uniform, at High Table (if

singly) 1_s._ extra.

Gas Illumination on Exterior of Sitting-Room,

according to device (per evening)

From 2_s._ to 10_s._ 6_d._

Cup of Tea 4_d._

Ditto, on Throne 6_d._

Two Lancers to attend Cab or Carriage to

Theatre or Reception (for first hour) 1_s._

For each succeeding hour 6_d._

Daily crowd (with cheers), on entering or leaving hotel, by

contract.

Strictest attention paid to the slightest International

prejudices.

An _ultimatum_ always ready on the premises.

_Punch_, December 22, 1883.

――――:o:――――

A few extracts from the

PROSPECTUS OF THE HORSE SHOE HOTEL,

Tottenham Court Road, London.

This hotel was built and arranged for the special comfort

and convenience of the travelling public.

On arrival, each guest will be asked how he likes the

situation, and if he says the hotel ought to have been

placed nearer the park or railway station, the location of

the house will be immediately changed. Front rooms, on first

floor, for each guest.

Bath, gas, hot and cold water, laundry, telegraph, fire

escape, restaurant, bar-room, billiard tables, daily papers,

sewing machine, grand piano, a clergyman, and all other

modern conveniences in every room.

Meals every minute if desired. Waiters of any desired

nationality.

Every waiter furnished with a libretto, button-hole

bouquets, full dress suits, theatre tickets, the latest

tips, and his hair parted down the middle. Every guest will

have the best seat in the dining hall, and the best waiter

in the house.

Any guest not getting his breakfast red hot, or experiencing

a delay of fifteen seconds after giving his order for

dinner, will please mention the fact at the Manager’s

Office, and the cooks and waiters will at once be blown by

Her Majesty’s Horse Guards from the mouth of the cannon.

Children will be welcomed with delight, and are requested to

bring hoop-sticks and jack-knives, to bang and hack the

carved rosewood furniture, specially provided for the

purpose; they will be allowed to thump the piano at all

hours, fall down stairs, scream and yell to their heart’s

content, carry away dessert enough for a small family in

their pockets at dinner, and make themselves otherwise as

agreeable and entertaining as the fondest mother can desire.

Washing underlinen allowed in all the drawing-rooms.

A discreet waiter, who belongs to the Masons, Odd Fellows,

and Women’s Suffrage, and who was never known to tell the

truth, has been employed to carry milk punches and hot

toddies to the ladies’ rooms in the evening.

The office clerk has been carefully selected to please

everybody, and can play unlimited loo, match worsteds at the

shop round the corner, toss for drinks at any hour, day or

night, play billiards, a good waltzer, amuse the children,

is a good judge of horses, as a railroad reference is far

superior to the A B C, Bradshaw’s, or anybody else’s guide,

will flirt with any young lady, and not mind being cut dead

when “Pa comes down,” don’t mind being damned any more than

the Regent’s Canal, can put forty people into the best room

in the house when the hotel is full, and answer questions in

Greek, Hebrew, Choctaw, Irish, or any other polite language,

at the same moment, without turning a hair.

Dogs allowed in any room in the house, including the w(h)ine

room. Gentlemen can drink, smoke, swear, chew, gamble, tell

shady stories, stare at the new arrivals, or indulge in any

other innocent amusements in any part of the hotel.

The landlord will always be happy to hear that some other

hotel is “the best in the country,” and that his is the very

worst.

――――:o:――――

Dear Jack.

Enclosed Draft Prospectus was got up by one of our “sinners,”[56] and

as just now the public will buy any mortal thing, I seriously believe

there is coin in the idea. Send the manuscript to the printer, just as

it stands, and tell him to set it up and send a few pulls, marked

“Private――First Proof,” which I will pass round and get licked into

shape.

Yours, old fellow,

Peter Preemium.

P.S.――Keep it quiet.

THE QUILL TOOTHPICK ATTACHMENT COMPANY, LIMITED.

Messrs LAYIT ONTHICK & CO., offer for subscription the undermentioned

Capital:

(The subscription list will open on Saturday next at Four o’clock in

the afternoon, and will close at five minutes past Nine on Monday

morning.)

Ordinary Shares, £10 each £5,000,000

Preference 6 per cent. Shares, £10 each £4,500,000

――――――――――

Total Share Capital £9,500,000

Debenture Stock bearing interest at

5 per cent. (redeemable at the

Company’s option up to the expiration

of twenty years from the first

of April next (1887) at 110 per

cent.) £3,000,000

――――――――――

£12,500,000

===========

“One-half of the ordinary Shares is reserved for the Vendor, who will

hold as long as it suits his convenience, and the remainder, together

with the Preference Shares and Debenture Stock, are now offered

severally for public subscription at par.

THE QUILL TOOTHPICK ATTACHMENT COMPANY, LIMITED,

has been formed to supply the whole world with Quill Toothpicks, the

interiors of which will be charged with hydraulically compressed

drinks, such as the stout of Guinness, the ale of Bass, the champagne

of , the whiskey of , the port of , and

the sherry of .

_Might charge these as advertisements, say £25 each, and

cheap enough at the money._

By means of a new forcing machine, which the vendor is now trying

to invent, he thinks that a quart of Guinness or a bottle of Champagne

can be readily compressed into the interior of a Toothpick, and when

in the mouth the contents will be gently and gradually released by the

touch of a spring. The Tea of , and the Coffee of

will be stored in a similar manner. The Company will grant Royalties

to Temperance Societies.

_Try Cooper Cooper & Co., and that tinned French Coffee chap――I forget

his name――for advertisement. If you can, get some soft soap into the

prospectus, Pears’ should be safe for at least £100._

The advantages of the Quill Toothpick Attachment must be apparent to

the meanest capacity. For instance, a man is invited out to dine, and

finds himself in danger of being poisoned. He pulls out a Toothpick

charged with the desired drink, and the morning headache is avoided.

Ten thousand Toothpicks charge with - - - - -

_Charge £50 for this advertisement._

wonderful brand of champagne will be distributed gratis to the female

leaders of society, and it is anticipated that the use of toothpicks

will soon become common to both sexes at every meal. As a further

development it is anticipated that hosts will soon cease altogether to

provide bottled drinks for their guests, and in place thereof will lay

in quantities of Toothpicks charged by the Company. The contents of

the Toothpicks will in all cases be absolutely guaranteed to be what

they are, and this the Directors distinctly guarantee it is impossible

to dispute.

The prospects of the Company are exceedingly brilliant. Professor

Figuritout has been specially feed for the compilation of the

following startling statistics:

“The population of the world,” says the learned Professor, “is in

round figures ,000,000,000,” and the Professor stakes his

reputation that 00·000 per cent. uses a Toothpick.

_Fill in at discretion_.

The Company hope to make very large profits out of the Toothpicks

themselves, and will at once proceed to open negotiations for the

purchase of farms and ranches in the great Sahara of Africa and the

vast plains of America for the cultivation of the _Anser Vulgaris_, or

common goose.

The _Anser Vulgaris_ flourishes everywhere, and by gentle persuasion

readily and painlessly parts with its feathers, in fact it generally

takes some time to discover that anything is wrong. The gander parts

less readily, and as a rule the feathers are small and so few in

number as to be hardly worth plucking.

There is another well-known and exceedingly strong feathered breed of

goose (_Anser Stockexchangeiensis_) frequenting the numerous runs

adjacent Capel Court. This breed parts with no persuasion, in fact at

times it courts being plucked, but it has a nasty habit of shortly

wanting back again all its own feathers and as many of other people’s

as it can possibly grab hold of. Sometimes, but not often, it loses

nearly every feather it has got, and then it gently hisses, and

horribly blasphemes.”

These Extracts are taken from a Prospectus issued by John Heywood,

Manchester, in 1887.

――――:o:――――

Numerous burlesque acts of Parliament have been published, the late

Albert Smith wrote several which were printed in imitation of

parliamentary papers. One was entitled “An Act to amend the laws

relating to the giving of Dinner and Evening Parties. _Act 1._ _Cap

1._ 1848.”

――――

(_Ireland._) A BILL

_intituled_,

An Act for the better defence and support of Life of Landlord and

Tenant, and to facilitate the Maintenance and Comfort of Persons

subject to certain starvation in IRELAND.

_Preamble_.

WHEREAS there has been always found to be a certain

connexion between Misery and Outrage in Ireland; AND

WHEREAS, there is no reason to believe that the Irish people

have a greater fancy for shooting each other than other

people; AND WHEREAS, hitherto every kind of Coercion has

been tried without effect, and the only means of preventing

outrage that has not been tried is to give the people work

and food.

I. BE IT ENACTED that from and after the passing of this

Act, it shall and may be compulsory upon every English

Cabinet Minister, before he legislates for Ireland, to pay a

visit to the same, and learn something of the real state of

the people and the country thereof.

II. AND BE IT ENACTED, that it shall and may be lawful to

teach Irish Landlords that Property has its duties as well

as its Rights, and that the latter may best be secured by a

due and proper discharge of the former.

III. AND BE IT ENACTED, that from and after the passing of

this Act, Milk of Human Kindness be allowed to be imported

into Ireland, and used freely in all parts of the same,

instead of the _Odium Theologicum_ or _Odium Politicum_ now

in use, in lieu thereof.

* * * * *

VIII. AND BE IT ENACTED, that a compensation not exceeding

£ per annum, be paid to Mr. O’Connell and all hired

agitators, for the loss they shall sustain by the passing of

this Bill.

IX. AND BE IT ENACTED, that in the construction of this Act,

masculine words shall mean feminine, and singular plural;

and that all other rules of grammar shall be violated, as in

other Acts is usually provided.

From _The Almanack of the Month_. July, 1846.

――――

In 1862, Carter of Regent Street, London, published “Official

Regulations on Female Dress during the International Exhibition of

1862.” This amusing skit was also got up in correct official style.

――――:o:――――

OFFICE RULES.

1. Gentlemen upon entering will Leave the door wide open, or

apologise.

2. Those having No Business should remain as Long as Possible, take a

chair, and Lean against the Wall; it will preserve the wall, and may

prevent its fall upon us.

3. Gentlemen are requested to Smoke especially during Office Hours;

Tobacco and Cigars will be supplied.

4. Talk Loud or Whistle, especially when we are engaged; if this has

not the desired effect, Sing.

5. If we are in Business Conversation with anyone you are requested

not to wait until we are done, but Join in, as we are particularly

fond of speaking to half-a-dozen or more at a time.

6. Profane Language is expected at all times, especially if Ladies are

present.

7. Put your feet on the tables, or lean against the Desk; it will be

of great assistance to those who are writing.

8. Persons having no Business with this Office will call often or

excuse themselves.

9. Should you need the loan of any Money do not fail to Ask for it, as

we do not require it for Business Purposes, but merely for the sake of

lending.

Our hours for listening to Solicitors for Benevolent Purposes are from

11 a.m. to 1 p.m., Book Agents from 1 to 3 p.m., Beggars, Pedlers, and

Insurance Agents all day. We attend to our Business at Night.

_The Lord helpeth those that help themselves, but the Lord help any

man caught helping himself here._

――――

THE MENAGERIE.

(_A Burlesque Lecture._)

“Hi! hi! hi! walk up, walk up, walk up! The only show in the fair, the

largest and the best! The penny seats are all a penny, the ha’penny

seats are four for tuppence! Ladies and gentlemen, we ’ave the most

astounding collection of ’uman and animal fernomenons ever exhibited

to the public of this or any other town! The pictures on the outside

of the carawan ain’t nothink to the marvels to be seen alive within!

Give the drum a one-er!

“Before a-inviting of you to enter, and taste the joys of Elysium to

be ’ad at the small charge of one penny, I will exhibit to your

astonished and admiring gaze a few pictorual illusterations of the

wonders to be shortly disclosed to you. Give the drum a one-er!

“The first speciment I shall introduct to your notice is the _Spotted

Babe of Peru_. The infant is so called from being born in the

Ratcliffe ’Ighway! It was born at a very early age bein’ quite a child

at the time. It had two parients, one male and one female. I should be

deludin’ of you, ladies and gents, if I concealed from you the fack

that its male parient was its father. The infant is covered all over

with spots or specks. There ain’t nothink ketchin’ in the spots or

specks. They wos caused by its grandfather ’avin swaller’d a box o’

dominoes in a fit of _duleruam tremins_. When tormented by the pangs

of ’unger, the infant do not gnash ’is toothless gums and ’owl for

grub like the ornary babe of commerce, but ’e climbs to the rooft of

the carawan, where ’e barks like a dorg! ’Ence the term, ‘_Peruvian

Bark_’! Give the drum a one-er!

“The next speciment I shall introduct to your notice is the

_O-rang-O-tang_! The o-rang-o-tang ain’t a Irish beast, as ’is name

might imply. ’E is a celebrated bird of the hinside of Central Africa.

’E do not live on cotton-wool and carster-hile, as is poplerly

supposed! Oh, no, that there is a aspershin on the manner of the

inseck! ’E climbs aloft to the giddy summat of the Halpine palm-tree,

where ’e ’angs upsy-down by the roof of ’is mouth; ketches the

prairie-hyster with ’is hyebrows; cracks it with ’is fore’ead; devours

the lushus froot; and distriboots the shells among ’is noomerous

orfspring! Give the drum a one-er!

The next objek of interest is the _Bovis Kimmunis_, or _Commin Cow_.

The cow is the most dimmestercated of all wile animals. ’E is a oblong

beast, in the form of a pork-mantew or fiddle-case on tressels! ’E

’ave a leg on each corner of ’im. ’Is ’ead is at one end of ’is body,

and ’is tail is at the other end. The tail-end is oppersite the

’ead-end, onless the animil turns round, then the tail-end is on the

’ead-end! And this confuses the milkmaids! The cow is a useful beast.

In our declinin’ days, when we expected every moment to be our nex, we

’ave been soothed and solaced by an excellent and newtrishis jelly

prepared from ’is horns, ’is oofts, and ’is tail; or to quote the

words of the advertisement, ‘it imparts a pearly lustre to the breath,

a kinky curliness to the complexion, a floral flaviour to the eye; is

a excellent substertute for a stummick-pump, carefully perpared from

the reseat of a nobleum in the country, to imertate which is forgery.’

“I cannot quit the _Bovis Kimmunis_, or Commin Cow, without recalling

to your recommemberlection the words of the well-known poet _Cow_per,

which he says:

“‘Twinkle, twinkle, pretty cow,

I thought I ’eard you say mee-yow!

Up above the booth so fly,

Crackin’ winkles on the sly!’

“Give the drum a one-er!

“The last speciment I shall ’ave the pleasure of introducting to your

notice is the _Cocclicus Indicus_, or _Prickly_ _Pollywog of the

Ipecacuanha Mountains_, wot lives entirely on bottled bootjacks,

currant jelly, turnip-tops, sarsaparilla, tenpenny nails,

toasting-forks, corn-plaister, pot-lids, cabbage water, lemon-

squeezers, black-beetle poison, cinder-sifters, soapsuds, silver

sand, and postage stamps; until, one day, in a fit of tempory

aboration of hinterlek, it swaller’d a sausage machine, two reams of

emery paper, a box of matches, and fourteen seidlitz powders, and

expired of spontaneous combustion and acute inflermation of the

waistcoat pocket linings of the coats of ’is stummick. ’E then

expired, and is to be seen alive within. Give the drum a one-er!”

CHARLES COLLETTE.

――――

ON FARMING.

(_Lecture Written by Mark Twain when a Boy._)

Farming is healthy work; but no man can run a farm and wear his best

clothes at the same time. Either the farming must cease while the new

clothes continues, or the new clothes must cease while farming

continues. This shows that farming is not so clean work as being a

Congressman or schoolmaster, for these men can wear good clothes if

they can find money to pay for them. Farmers get up early in the

morning. They say the early bird catches the worm. If I was a bird, I

had rather get up late and eat cherries in place of worms. Farmers

don’t paint their waggons when they can help it, for they show mud too

quick. The colour of their boots is red, and don’t look like other

people’s boots, because they are twice as big. Farmers’ wives have a

hard time cooking for hired men, and the hired men find fault with the

farmers’ wives’ cooking. Why don’t farmers’ wives let the hired men do

the cooking while they do the finding fault? Farmers don’t get as rich

as bank presidents, but they get more exercise. Some ask――“Why don’t

farmers run for Congress?” They run so much keeping boys out of their

peach orchards and melon patches they don’t have any time to run after

anything else. If Congress should run after farmers, one might be

caught now and then. Lawyers can beat farmers at running for most

anything. I know a farmer who tried to run a line fence according to

his notion. The other man objected and hurt the farmer. The farmer

hired a lawyer to run his line fence, and now the lawyer runs the

farmer’s farm, and the farmer has stopped running anything.

――――:o:――――

REGULATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES NAVY.

A Buffalo paper prints the following extracts from a manuscript

treatise on naval discipline, prepared by the Secretary of the

American Navy:――“The custom of sailing before the wind should be

avoided, whenever it is possible, as experience has demonstrated that

it is much better to wait for the breeze and carry it along, if not

too heavy. Commanders of sailing ships-of-war, I have observed, are

addicted to the practice of ‘staggering under all they can carry.’

This matter will receive early attention, as the necessity for reform

in this direction would seem imperative. When dirty weather is

threatened, or when there is reason to suspect breakers ahead, the

captain should heave to, or three, but never more than four. In taking

on board ammunition, and powder, and shot, and shells and caps, &c.,

the fore, main, and mizen trucks should be utilised, in connection

with the animals belonging to the horse marines. It is deemed best to

abolish dog-watches. The practice is believed to encourage idleness

among the sailors, and necessitates the keeping on board a number of

useless beasts whose presence must be anything but desirable. In the

interests of economy, the allowance for captains’ gigs should be

withdrawn. It is plain that they are of no real utility on ship-board,

and that they are at all times in the way. When on shore the captains

can avail themselves of the street railway, or of the facilities

afforded by the livery stables. All anchors should be accurately

weighed before being taken on board, and the weight plainly marked on

each, thereby saving time and trouble when a ship is about to take her

departure. All ‘splicing’ should be done by the chaplain, as he is the

person upon whom the performance of the ceremony most properly

devolves. When sailing in tropical seas, the breeches of the guns

should be removed and carefully stowed away, to be replaced when again

entering colder latitudes and longitudes. The practice of carrying

logs, merely for the purpose of ‘heaving’ them is of questionable

propriety, and will form a subject for future enquiry.”

――――

ADMIRALTY REFORMS.

The following appointments have recently been created at the

Admiralty, to which salaries of £1000 a-year each are attached;

The Chief Obstructor.

The Complicator-General of Naval Accounts.

The Scrutineer of Dockyard Expenditure.

The Investigator of Expenses of Ships Building.

The Calculator of Profits by Ships broken up, or lost.

The Professional Criticizer of the Obstructor’s Vessels.

The Examiner and Inspector of Contractors and Inventors.

The Constructor-in-Chief of Revolving Turrets.

The Insinuator and Receiver of Contracts.

The Riveter and Contractor-General of Iron Plate.

The Admirer and Appraiser of Dockyard Work.

The Inventor and Circulator of Expensive Theories.

The Detector-General of Fraudulent Contracts.

The Director of Ingenious and Inexpensive Works.

The Imposter-General of Stores and Store accounts.

The Subverter of Official Forms and Precedents.

――――:o:――――

THE LAST ARRIVAL.

There came to port last Sunday night

The queerest little craft,

Without an inch of rigging on;

I looked, and looked, and laughed.

It seemed so curious that she

Should cross the unknown water,

And moor herself within my room――

My daughter, O! my daughter!

Yet, by these presents, witness all,

She’s welcome fifty times,

And comes consigned to Hope and Love,

And common metre rhymes.

She has no manifest but this;

No flag floats o’er the water;

She’s rather new for British Lloyds――

My daughter, O! my daughter!

Ring out, wild bells――and tame ones too;

Ring out the lover’s moon;

Ring in the little worsted socks;

Ring in the bib and spoon.

Ring out the muse; ring in the nurse;

Ring in the milk and water:

Away with paper, pens, and ink――

My daughter, O! my daughter!

GEORGE W. CABLE.

――――

CUMULATIVE PARODIES.

There was a young damsel; oh, bless her,

It cost very little to dress her;

She was sweet as a rose

In her every day clothes,

But had no young man to caress her.

* * * * *

There was a young turkey; oh, bless her,

It cost very little to dress her;

Some dry bread and thyme,

About Thanksgiving time,

And they ate the last bit from the dresser.

* * * * *

A newspaper poet; oh, dang him!

And pelt him, and club him, and bang him!

He kept writing away,

Till the people one day

Rose up and proceeded to hang him.

_The Detroit Free Press._

[Illustration]

SLANG, CANT, AND FLASH.

As Slang is a species of parody of our mother tongue, and as many

songs are written in it, it must be alluded to in this Collection,

however briefly.

A few examples will be quoted, followed by a bibliography, including

mention also of Dictionaries devoted to Satirical and Political slang.

Thieves slang, or “cant,” is of multifold origin, but is mainly

derived from Romany or gipsy talk, with an admixture of Anglo-Saxon,

Latin, and French words.

Rhyming and back-slang are two other forms of purely native

manufacture, both arbitrary, and artificial in their construction.

By the former any word that rhymes with the one that is intended is

substituted for it, and gradually becomes accepted. This method is

somewhat complicated, and is, of course, almost unintelligible to the

uninitiated, which is precisely why it is adopted by thieves and their

associates.

Back-slang is largely patronised by costermongers. It consists in

spelling backwards the principal words in a sentence, with more or

less accuracy. Thus, “Hi, yob! kool that enif elrig with the nael

ekom. Ssap her a top o’ reeb and a tib of occabot,” simply means “Hi

boy! look at that fine girl with the lean moke. Pass her a pot of beer

and a bit of tobacco.”

Although slang is principally indulged in by the lower orders and

criminal classes, it must not be forgotten that many slang words have

been adopted and incorporated into our general language, to say

nothing of Americanisms, which are also constantly being absorbed.

Every profession, too, has its slang, or technical language, which is

mainly unintelligible to the outside world. Thus Soldiers, Sailors,

Engineers, Doctors, and Lawyers, have their own phraseology, but what

is most objectionable is the Clerical slang. This imparts a fine full

flavoured tone of hypocrisy to any ordinary conversation by dragging

in “D.V.” references to the Deity, and the quotation of scraps of Holy

writ in the most unnecessary profusion, and in the most unseemly

contrast with trivial statements of every day life.

THE HOUSE BREAKER’S SONG.

I ne’er was a nose[57] for the reg’lars[58] came

Whenever a pannie[59] was done:――

Oh! who would chirp[60] to dishonour his name,

And betray his pals[61] in a nibsome[62] game

To the traps?[63]――Not I for one!

Let nobs in the fur trade[64] hold their jaw,

And let the jug[65] be free;――

Let Davy’s dust[66] and a well-faked claw[67]

For Fancy coves be the only law,

And a double tongued squib[68] to keep in awe

The chaps that flout at me!

From morn to night we’ll booze a ken[69],

And we’ll pass the bingo[70] round;

At dusk we’ll make our lucky[71], and then,

With our nags so flash, and our merry men,

We’ll scour the lonely ground.

And if the swells resist our “Stand!”

We’ll squib[72] without a joke;

For I’m snigger’d if we will be trepanned

By the blarneying jaw of a knowing hand,

And thus be lagged[73] to a foreign land,

Or die by an artichoke[74].

But should the traps be on the sly,

For a change we’ll have a crack[75];

The richest cribs[76] shall our wants supply――

Or we’ll knap[77] a fogle[78] with fingers fly[79],

When the swell one turns his back.

The flimsies we can smash[80] as well,

Or a ticker[81] deftly prig;――

But if ever a pal in limbo fell,

He’d sooner be scragg’d[82] at once than tell;

Though the hum-box patterer[83] talked of hell,

And the beak[84] wore his nattiest wig[85]!

From “_Pickwick Abroad_; or, The Tour in France.” by G. W. M.

Reynolds. (Chapter 26.)

――――

NIX MY DOLLY, PALS, FAKE AWAY!

In a box of the stone Jug I was born,

Of a hempen widow the kid forlorn,――

Fake away!

My noble father, as I’ve heard say,

Was a famous merchant of capers gay;

Nix my dolly, pals,――fake away!

Nix my dolly, &c.

The knucks in quod did my shoolmen play,

And put me up to the time of day;――

Fake away!

No dummy-hunter had forks so fly,

No knuckler so deftly could take a cly;

Nix my dolly, &c.

But my nuttiest lady, one fine day,

To the beaks did her gentleman betray,――

Fake away!

Thus was I bowl’d out at last,

And into the Jug for a lag was cast;

Nix my dolly, &c.

But I slipp’d my darbies one morn in May,

And gave to the dubsman a holiday,――

Fake away!

And here I am, pals, merry and free,

A regular rollicking Romany;

Nix my dolly, &c.

W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.

――――

“DEAR BILL, THIS STONE-JUG.”

(_Being an Epistle from_ TOBY CRACKSMAN, _in Newgate, to_

BILL SYKES.)

Dear Bill, this _stone-jug_,[86] at which flats dare to rail,

(From which till the next Central sittings I hail)

Is still the same snug, free-and-easy old hole,

Where MACHEATH met his _blowens_,[87] and WYLDE floor’d his bowl.

In a ward with one’s _pals_,[88] not locked up in a cell,

To an old hand like me it’s a _fam-ly[89]-hotel_.

In the day-rooms the _cuffins_[90] we queer at our ease,

And at _Darkman’s_[91] we run the rig just as we please;

There’s your _peck_[92] and your _lush_, hot and reg’lar, each day.

All the same if you work, all the same if you play.

But the lark’s when a _goney_[93] up with us they shut,

As ain’t up to our _lurks_,[94] our _flash-patter_,[95] and smut;

But soon in his eye nothing green would remain,

He knows what’s o’clock when he comes out again.

And the next time he’s _quodded_[96] so downy and snug,

He may thank us for making him _fly to the jug_.[97]

But here comes a cuffin――which cuts short my tale,

It’s agin rules is _screevin’_[98] to pals out o’ gaol.

(_The following postscript seems to have been added when the

Warder had passed._)

For them coves in Guildhall and that blessed LORD MAYOR,

_Prigs on their four bones should chop whiners_,[99] I swear:

That long over Newgit their Worships may rule,

As the _High-toby, mob, crack and screeve_[100] model school;

For if Guv’ment was here, not the Alderman’s Bench,

Newgit soon ’ud be bad as “_the Pent_” or “_the Tench_.”[101]

_Note._――We subjoin a Glossary of MR. CRACKSMAN’S lingo:――

[Transcriber's Note: See footnotes [86]-[101].]

_Punch._ January 31, 1857.

――――

THE CHICK-A-LEARY COVE.

I’m a “Chickaleary bloke”[102] with my one, two, three,

Whitechapel was the village, I was born in,

For to get me on the hop, or on my “tibby”[103] drop,

You must wake up very early in the morning.

I have a “rorty”[104] gal, also a knowing pal,

And merrily together we jog on,

I doesn’t care a “flatch”[105] as long as I’ve a “tach,”[106]

Some “pan-num”[107] for my chest, and a “tog”[108] on.

I’m a Chickaleary bloke with my one, two, three,

Whitechapel is the village I was born in,

For to get me on the hop, or on my “tibby” drop,

You must wake up very early in the morning.

Now “kool”[109] my downy “kicksies”[110] the style for me,

Built upon a plan werry naughty,

The stock around my “squeeze”[111] a “guiver”[112] colour see,

And the “vestat”[113] with the “bins”[114] so “rorty.”

My tailor serves you well, from a “perger”[115] to a swell,

At Groves’ you’re safe to make a sure pitch,[116]

For ready “yenom”[117] down, there aint a shop in town

Can “lick” Groves’ in the “Cut” as well as Shoreditch.

I’m a Chickaleary bloke, &c.

Off to Paris I shall go, to show a thing or two,

To the “dipping blokes”[118] what hangs about the caffes,

How to do a “cross-fan”[119] for a “super”[120] or a slang,[121]

And to “bustle”[122] them “grand’armes”[123] I’d give the office.

Now my pals I’m going to slope, see you soon again, I hope,

My young woman is avaiting, so be quick,

Now join in a “chyike”[124] the “jolly”[125] we all like;

I’m off with a party to the “Vic.”

I’m a Chickaleary bloke, &c.

――――

THE THIEVES’ CHAUNT.

There is a nook in the _boozing ken_,[126]

Where many a _mud I fog_,[127]

And the smoke curls gently, while cousin Ben

Keeps filling the pots again and again,

If the coves have _stump’d their hog_.[128]

The liquors around are diamond bright,

And the _diddle_[129] is best of all;

But I never in liquors took delight,

For liquors I think is all a _bite_,[130]

So for heavy wet I call.

The heavy wet in a pewter quart,

As brown as a badger’s hue,

More than Bristol milk[131] or gin,

Brandy or rum, I tipple in,

With my darling _blowen_[132] Sue.

Oh! _grunting peck_[133] in its eating

Is a richly soft and a savoury thing;

A _Norfolk capon_[134] is jolly grub

When you wash it down with _strength of bub_[135]

But dearer to me Sue’s kisses far,

Than grunting peck or other grub are,

And I never funks the _lambskin men_,[136]

When I sits with her in the boozing ken.

Her _duds_[137] are _bob_[138]――she’s a _kinchin crack_[139]

And I hopes as how she’ll never _back_;[140]

For she never _lushes dog’s soup or lap_,[141]

But she loves my cousin the _bluffer’s_[142] tap.

She’s wide awake, and her _prating cheat_[143]

For humming a cove was never beat;

But because she lately _nimm’d_[144] some tin,

They have sent her to lodge at the _King’s Head Inn_.[145]

From _The Individual_. November 15, 1836. Cambridge. W. H. Smith.

――――

Generalizations have been made from which it appears that certain

localities have peculiar productive qualities in the manufacture of

criminals, thus London for sharpers, Brummagem for thieves, Paris for

fly men (window thieves) Sheffield for pilchers of snyde (coiners and

utterers.)

As to the ultimate destinations of these gentlemen one of themselves

has put the various establishments in verse, thus recounting their

merits:――

“Dartmoor is a tidy place,

Chatham is the terror of our race,

Portland is not quite so bad,

Broadmoor is for those stark mad,

Pentonville is the hill of London,

Borstal if you’re there you’re undone,

Portsmouth is a noted shop,

Brixton is a regular cop.”

Another equally good authority thus describes them:――

“Millbank for thick shins and graft at the pump,

Broadmoor for all laggs as go off their chump,

Brixton for good toke and cocoa with fat,

Dartmoor for bad grub but plenty of chat,

Portsmouth a blooming bad place for hard work.

Chatham on Sunday gives four ounces of pork,

Portland is the worst of the lot for to joke in,

For fetching a lagging there is no place like Woking.”

――――

“Joe quickly his sand had sold, sir,

And Bess got a basket of rags;

Then up to St. Giles’s they rolled sir;

To every bunter Bess brags,

Then unto the gin shop they _pike it_,[146]

And Bess was admitted we hear;

For none of the crew dare but like it,

As Joey, her kiddy was there.”

* * * * *

_The Sandman’s Wedding_, a Cantata.

――――

THE BEGGAR’S CURSE.

(By _Thomas Decker_, 1609.)

The Ruffin cly[147] the Nab of the Harmanbeck,[148]

If we maund Pannam,[149] Lap, or Ruff-Peck,

Of Poplars of Yarum,[150] he cuts bing to the Ruffmans,

Or else he with cruelty swears by the Lightmans,[151]

He’ll seize us, and put our stamps fast in the Harmans,[152]

The Ruffin cly the Ghost of the Harmanbeck

If we heave a Booth[153] we straight cly the Jerk[154]

If we niggle or mill but a poor Boozing-Ken,[155]

Or nip a poor Bung[156] with one single Win,

Or dup but the Gigger[157] of a Country-cove’s Ken,

Straight we’re to the Cuffin Queer[158] forced to bing;

And ’cause we are poor made to scour the Cramp-ring,[159]

From thence at the Chats we trine in the Lightmans,[160]

Plague take the Harmanbeck: Ruffin the Harmans.

――――

CLEAR OUT――LOOK SHARP!

_Song commonly sung by tramps and thieves at a general Rendezvous

before they divide into parties, to stroll about the country._

Bing[161] out, bien[162] Morts,[163] and toure[164] and toure,

Bing out, bien Morts, and toure;

For all your Duds[165] are bing’d awast[166]

The bien Cove[167] hath the loure[168].

I met a Dell,[169] I viewed her well,

She was benship[170] to my watch;

So she and I did stall[171] and cloy,[172]

Whatever we could catch.

This Doxie Dell can cut bien whids,[173]

And drill well for a win;[174]

And prig and cloy so benshiply,

All the Deusea-Vile[175] within.

The Booth being raised,[176] we stept aside,

Thro’ mire, and frost and snow;

When they did seek then did we creep,

And plant in Ruffman’s Row.[177]

To strowling ken[178] the mort bings then,

To fetch loure for her cheats;

Duds and ruffpeck,[179] maugre Harmanbeck,[180]

We won by Maunder’s feats.

You maunders all, stow what you stall,[181]

To Rum Coves what so quire;[182]

And Bucksom Dell, that snilches well,[183]

And takes loure for her hire.

A Jybe well jerked, tick Rome-confeck,[184]

For back by Glimmer to maund,[185]

To mill each ken,[186] let Cove bing then,[187]

Thro’ Ruffmans, Jague or Laund[188].

Till Cramprings quire, tip Cove his Hire,[189]

And Quire-ken[190] do them catch;

Old Ruffler Mill[191] the Quire-cuffin,[192]

So quire to bien Cove’s watch.

Booze, Mort, and Ken, been Darkman’s then.[193]

The poor Cove’s bing’d awast;

On Chats to trine,[194] by Rum-Coves Dine,[195]

For his long Lib at last.[196]

Bing out bien morts, and toure and toure,

Bing out of the Romevile fine;[197]

Now toure the cove that cly’d your duds,

Upon the chats to trine.

As this song is so old some of the expressions are obsolete, and their

explanations are somewhat conjectural. The first verse translated

reads as follows:――

Go out, good girls, and look and see,

Go out, good girls, and see;

For all your clothes are carried away,

And the good man has the money.

This was first printed in “_The English Rogue_: Described in the Life

of Meriton Latroon, a Witty Extravagant. Being a Compleat History of

the most Eminent Cheats of both sexes. London, Printed for Henry

Marsh, at the Princes Arms in Chancery Lane, 1665.”

This curious work was reprinted by Chatto and Windus in 1874.

――――

FRISKY MOLL’S SONG.

From Priggs that snabble the Prancers strong,[198]

To you of the Peter Lay,[199]

I pray now listen awhile to my song,

How my Bowman[200] he kick’d away.

He broke through all the Rubbs[201] in the whit,

And chiv’d his Darbies[202] in twain;

But filing of a Rumbo-Ken,

My Bowman is snabbled again.

I, Frisky Moll, with my Rum Cull,[203]

Would suck in a Boozing Ken;

But e’er for the Scran[204] he had tipt the Cole,

The Harman he came in.

A Famble, a Tattle, and two Pops,[205]

Had my Bowman when he was ta’en;

But had we not booz’d in the Diddle shops,[206]

He’d still been in Drury Lane.

From “_Harlequin Sheppard_.” Acted at Drury Lane Theatre, 1724.

――――

THE CANTER’S SERENADE.

(Sung early in the morning, at the Barn doors where their Doxies have

reposed during the night.)

Ye Morts and ye Dells[207]

Come out of your Cells,

And charm all the Palliards[208] about ye;

Here birds of all feathers,

Through deep roads and all weathers,

Are gathered together to toute[209] ye.

With faces of Wallnut,

And Bladder and Smallgut,

We’re come scraping and singing to rouse ye;

Rise, shake off your straw,

And prepare you each maw

To kiss, eat, and drink till you’re bouzy.

――――

ODE TO THE KING OF THE MENDICANTS.

Cast your nabs[210] and cares away,

This is Maunders holiday:[211]

In the world look out and see,

Where so blest a King as he!

At the crowning of our King,

Thus we ever dance and sing;

Where’s the nation lives so free,

And so merrily as we?

Be it peace, or be it war,

Here at liberty we are:

Hang all Harmenbecks[212] we cry,

We the Cuffin Queres[213] defy.

We enjoy our ease and rest,

To the fields we are not pressed

And when taxes are increased

We are not a penny ’sessed.

Nor will any go to law,

With a Maunder for a straw,

All which happiness, he brags,

Is only owing to his rags.

From _The History of Bampfylde-Moore Carew_, King of the Mendicants.

London, 1749.

――――

OATH OF THE CANTING CREW.

I, Crank-Cuffin, swear to be

True to this fraternity;

That I will in all obey

Rule and order of the lay.

Never blow the gab, or squeak;

Never snitch to bum or beak;

But religiously maintain

Authority of those who reign

Over Stop Hole Abbey Green,

Be their tawny king, or queen.

In their cause alone will fight;

Think what they think, wrong or right;

Serve them truly, and no other,

And be faithful to my brother;

Suffer none, from far or near,

With their rights to interfere;

No strange Abram, ruffler crack,

Hooker of another pack,

Rogue or rascal, frater, maunderer,[214]

Irish toyle, or other wanderer;

No dimber damber,[215] angler, dancer,

Prig of cackler,[216] prig of prancer;[217]

No swigman, swaddler, clapper-dudgeon;

Cadge-gloak,[218] curtal, or curmudgeon;

No whip-jack, palliard, patrico;

No jarkman, be he high or low;

No dummerar, or romany;

No member of “_the Family_;”

No ballad-basket, bouncing buffer,

Nor any other, will I suffer;

But stall-off[219] now and for ever,

All outliers whatsoever;

And as I keep to the fore-gone,

So may help me Salamon!

From _The Life of Bampfylde-Moore Carew_.

――――

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE DARKMAN’S BUDGE,[220].

The Budge it is a delicate trade,

And a delicate trade of fame,

For when that we have bit the blow,

We carry away the game.

But if the cully naps us,

And the lurries from us takes;

O, then he rubbs us to the whit,[221]

Tho’ we’re hardly worth two makes.[222]

And when that we come to the whit,

Our darbies to behold;

We’re forced to do penance there,

And booze the water cold.

But when we come out again,

And the merry cull we meet,

We’ll surely file him of his cole,[223]

As he pikes along the street.

And when that we have filed him,

Tho’t be but half a job;

Then ev’ry man to the boozing ken,

To fence his merry hog;[224]

But if the cully naps us,

For want of care or wit,

Tho’ he cannot take away our cole,

He rubbs us to the whit.

And when we come unto the whit,

For garnish[225] they do cry;

We promise our lusty comrogues

They shall have it by and bye;

Then ev’ry man, with his Mort[226] in his hand,

Is forc’d to kiss and part;

And after, is divorced away,

To the nubbing-cheat[227] in a cart.

And we come to the Nubbing-cheat,

For running on the budge;

There stands Jack Ketch, that sneaking wretch,

Who owes us all a grudge:

For when that he hath nubbed us,

And our friends tip him no cole,

He takes his chive,[228] and cuts us down,

And tips us into the hole.

But if we have a friend stand by,

Six and eightpence for to pay,

Then they may have our bodies back,

And carry us quite away:

For at St. Giles’s or St. Martin’s,

A burying place is still;

And there’s an end of a Darkman’s Budge,

And the whoreson hath his will.

――――

THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY.

Now Oliver[229] puts his black nightcap on,

And every star its glim[230] is hiding,

And forth to the heath is the scampsman[231] gone,

His matchless cherry-black[232] prancer riding;

Merrily over the common he flies,

Fast and free as the rush of rocket,

His crape-covered vizard drawn over his eyes,

His tol[233] by his side, and his pops[234] in his pocket.

_Chorus._

Then who can name

So merry a game,

As the game of all games――high toby?[235]

The traveller hears him, away! away!

Over the wide wide heath he scurries;

He heeds not the thunderbolt summons to stay,

But ever the faster and faster he hurries.

But what daisy-cutter can match that black tit?

He is caught――he must “stand and deliver;”

Then out with the dummy,[236] and off with the bit,[237]

Oh! the game of high toby for ever!

_Chorus._

Then who can name

So merry a game,

As the game of all games――high toby?

Believe me, there is not a game, my brave boys,

To compare with the game of high toby;

No rapture can equal the tobyman’s joys,

To blue devils, blue plumbs[238] give the go by;

And what if, at length, boys, he come to the crap![239]

Even rack punch has _some_ bitter in it,

For the mare-with-three-legs,[240] boys, I care not a rap,

’Twill be over in less than a minute!

_Grand Chorus._

Then hip, hurrah!

Fling care away!

Hurrah for the game of high toby.

From _Rookwood_, by W. Harrison Ainsworth. London.

――――

THE DOUBLE CROSS.

Though all of us have heard of _crost_ fights,

And certain _gains_, by certain _lost_ fights;

I rather fancies that it’s news,

How in a mill, _both_ men should _lose_;

For vere the _odds_ are thus made _even_,

It plays the dickens with the _steven_;[241]

Besides, against all rule they’re sinning,

Vere _neither_ has _no_ chance of vinning.

_Ri, tol, lol, &c._

Two _milling coves_, each vide avake,

Vere backed to fight for heavy stake;

But in the mean time, so it vos,

Both _kids_ agreed _to play a cross_;

Bold came each _buffer_[242] to the _scratch_,

To make it look a _tightish match_;

They _peeled_[243] in style, and bets were making,

’Tvos six to four, but few were _taking_.

_Ri, tol, lol, &c._

Quite cautiously the mill began,

For neither knew the other’s plan;

Each _cull_[244] completely in the _dark_,

Of vot might be his neighbour’s _mark_;

Resolved his _fibbing_[245] not to mind,

Nor yet to _pay him back in kind_;

So on each other _kept they tout_,[246]

And _sparred_ a bit, and _dodged_ about.

_Ri, tol, lol, &c._

Vith _mawleys_[247] raised, Tom bent his back,

As if to plant a heavy thwack;

Vile Jem, with neat left-handed _stopper_,

Straight threatened Tommy with a _topper_;

’Tis all my eye! no claret flows,

No _facers_ sound――no smashing blows,

Five minutes pass, yet not a _hit_,

How can it end, pals?――vait a bit.

_Ri, tol, lol, &c._

Each cove vos _teazed_ with double duty,

To please his backers, yet _play booty_,[248]

Ven, luckily for Jem, a _teller_

Vos planted right upon his _smeller_;

Down dropped he, stunned; ven time was called,

Seconds in vain the _seconds_ bawled;

The _mill_ is o’er, the crosser _crost_,

The loser’s _won_, the vinner’s _lost_!

_Ri, tol, lol, &c._

From _Rookwood_, by W. Harrison Ainsworth, London.

――――

A FLASH ANECDOTE.

I buzzed a bloak and a shakester of a reader and a skin. My jomer

stalled. A cross cove, who had his regulars, called out “cop bung,” so

as a pig was marking, I speeled to the crib, where I found Jim had

been pulling down sawney for grub. He cracked a case last night and

fenced the swag. He told me as Bill had flimped a yack and pinched a

swell of a fawney, he sent the yack to church and got three finnups

and a cooter for the fawney.

TRANSLATION.

I picked the pockets of a gentleman and lady of a pocket book and a

purse. My fancy girl screened me from observation. A fellow thief, who

shared my plunder, called out to me to hand over the stolen property,

so as someone was observing my actions, I ran off to the house, where

Jim had some bacon he had stolen from a shop door. He broke into a

house last night, and had sold the stolen property. He told me that

Bill had hustled a man and stolen his watch, and had also robbed a

gentleman of a ring. He had sent the watch to have its works removed,

and had got three five pound notes and a sovereign for the ring.

From _Poverty, Mendicity and Crime_, 1839.

――――

THE LEARY MAN.

Of ups and downs I’ve felt the shocks

Since days of bats and shuttlecocks,

And alicumpaine and Albert-rocks,

When I the world began;

And for these games I often sigh

Both marmoney and spanish-fly,

And flying kites too, in the sky,

For which I’ve often ran.

But by what I’ve seen, and where I’ve been,

I’ve always found it so.

That if you wish to learn to live,

Too much you cannot know.

For you must now be wide-awake,

If a living you would make,

So I’ll advise what course to take

To be a Leary Man.

Go first to costermongery

To every _fakement_ get _a-fly_

And pick up all their slangery,

But let this be your plan;

Put up with no _Kieboshery_

But look well after _poshery_,

And cut teetotal sloshery.

And get drunk when you can.

And when you go to spree about,

Let it always be your pride

To have a white tile on your nob,

And bulldog by your side.

Your _fogle_ you must _flashly_ tie

Each word must _patter flashery_,

And hit _cove’s_ head to smashery,

To be a Leary Man.

To Covent Garden or Billingsgate

You of a morn must not be late,

But your donkey drive at a slashing rate,

And first be if you can.

From short pipe you must your bacca blow,

And if your donkey will not go,

To lick him you must not be slow,

But well his _hide must tan_.

The fakement _conn’d_ by _knowing rooks_

Must be well known to you,

And if you come to _fibbery_,

You must _mug_ one or two.

Then go to St. Giles’s rookery,

And live up some strange nookery,

Of no use domestic cookery,

To be a Leary Man.

Then go to pigeon fancery

And know each breed by quiz of eye,

Bald-heads from skin ’ems by their fly,

Go wrong you never can.

All fighting coves too you must know,

Ben Caunt as well as Bendigo,

And to each _mill_ be sure to go,

And be one of the van.

Things that are found before they’re lost,

Be always first to find.

Restore dogs for a pound or two

You’ll do a thing that’s kind.

And you must sport a blue _billy_,

Or a yellow _wipe_ tied loosily

Round your _scrag_ for _bloaks_ to see

That you’re a Leary Man.

At _knock’emsdown_ and tiddlywink,

To be a sharp you must not shrink,

But be a _brick_ and sport your _chink_

To win must be your plan.

And set-toos and cock-fighting

Are things you must take delight in,

And always try to be right in,

And every _kidment_ scan.

And bullying and chaffing too,

To you should be well known,

Your nob be used to bruisery,

And hard as any stone.

Put the kiebosh on the dibbery,

Know a Joey from a tibbery,

And now and then have a black eye,

To be a Leary Man.

To fairs and races go must you,

And get in rows and fights a few,

And stopping out all night its’ true,

Must often be your plan.

And as through the world you _budgery_,

Get well awake to _fudgery_,

And rub off every _grudgery_,

And do the best you can.

But mummery and slummery

You must keep in your mind,

For every day, mind what I say,

Fresh fakements you will find.

But stick to this while you can crawl,

To stand ’till you’re obliged to fall,

And when you’re wide awake to all

You’ll be a Leary Man.

From _The Vulgar Tongue_, by Ducange Anglicus. London, Bernard

Quaritch, 1857.

――――

THE SONG OF THE YOUNG PRIG.

My Mother she dwelt in Dyot’s Isle,[249]

One of the Canting Crew,[250] sirs;

And if you’d know my father’s style,

He was the Lord _Knows-who_, sirs!

I first held horses in the street,

But being found defaulter,

Turned rumbler’s flunky[251] for my meat,

So was brought up to the halter.

Frisk the cly[252], and fork the rag[253],

Draw the fogles plummy[254],

Speak to the tattler[255], bag the swag[256],

And finely hunt the dummy[257].

My name they say is Young Birdlime,

My fingers are fish-hooks sirs;

And I my reading learnt-betime,

From studying pocket-books[258], sirs.

I have a sweet eye for a plant[259],

And graceful as I amble,

Finedraw a coat-tail sure I can’t,

So kiddy is my famble[260].

_Chorus._ Frisk the cly, etc.,

A night bird,[261] oft I’m in the cage[262],

But my rum chants ne’er fail, sirs,

The dubsman’s[263] senses to engage,

While I tip him leg-bail[264], sirs.

There’s not, for picking, to be had,

A lad so light and larky[265],

The cleanest angler on the pad[266],

In daylight or the darkey[267].

_Chorus._ Frisk the cly, etc.,

And though I don’t work capital[268],

And do not weigh my weight[269], sirs,

Who knows but that in time I shall,

For there’s no queering fate, sirs.

If I’m not lagged to Virgin-nee[270],

I may a Tyburn show be[271],

Perhaps a tip-top cracksman[272] be

Or go on the high toby[273].

_Chorus._ Frisk the cly, etc.,

From _The Life and Times of James Catnach_, by Charles Hindley.

London, Reeves and Turner. 1878.

――――

THE DEATH OF SOCRATES.

_By the Rev. Robt. Burrowes, Dean of St. Finbar’s Cathedral, Cork._

The night before Larry was stretch’d,

The boys they all paid him a visit;

A bit in their sacks, too, they fetch’d――

They sweated their duds[274] till they riz it;

For Larry was always the lad,

When a friend was condemn’d to the squeezer[275],

But he’d pawn all the togs that he had,

Just to help the poor boy to a sneezer[276],

And moisten his gob ’fore he died.

“’Pon my conscience, dear Larry,” says I,

“I’m sorry to see you in trouble,

And your life’s cheerful noggin run dry,

And yourself going off like its bubble!”

“Hould your tongue in that matter,” says he;

“For the neckcloth I don’t care a button,

And by this time to-morrow you’ll see

Your Larry will be dead as mutton:

All for what? ’kase his courage was good!”

The boys they came crowding in fast;

They drew their stools close round about him,

Six glims[277] round his coffin they placed――

He couldn’t be well waked without ’em.

I ax’d if he was fit to die,

Without having duly repented?

Says Larry, “That’s all in my eye,

And all by the clargy invented,

To make a fat bit for themselves.”

Then the cards being call’d for, they play’d,

Till Larry found one of them cheated;

Quick he made a hard rap at his head――

The lad being easily heated,

“So ye chates me bekase I’m in grief!

O! is that, by the Holy, the rason?

Soon I’ll give you to know, you d――d thief!

That you’re cracking your jokes out of sason,

And scuttle your nob[278] with my fist.”

Then in came the priest with his book,

He spoke him so smooth and so civil;

Larry tipp’d him a Kilmainham look,

And pitch’d his big wig to the divil.

Then raising a little his head,

To get a sweet drop of the bottle,

And pitiful sighing he said,

“O! the hemp will be soon round my throttle[279],

And choke my poor windpipe to death!”

So mournful these last words he spoke,

We all vented our tears in a shower;

For my part, I thought my heart broke

To see him cut down like a flower!

On his travels we watch’d him next day,

O, the hangman I thought I could kill him!

Not one word did our poor Larry say,

Nor changed till he came to “King William:”

Och, my dear! then his colour turn’d white.

When he came to the nubbing cheat,

He was tuck’d up so neat and so pretty;

The rumbler jugg’d off from his feet,

And he died with his face to the city.

He kick’d too, but that was all pride,

For soon you might see ’twas all over;

And as soon as the noose was untied,

Then at darkey we waked him in clover,

And sent him to take a ground-sweat.

A French translation of this poem was written by the Rev. Francis

Mahony, see “_The Works of Father Prout_.” London, George Routledge &

Sons, 1881.

――――

’ARRY AT A POLITICAL PIC-NIC.

DEAR CHARLIE,

’Ow are yer, my ribstone? Seems scrumptious to write the old name.

I ’ave quite lost the run of you lately. Bin playing some dark little

game?

I’m keeping mine hup as per usual, fust in the pick of the fun,

For wherever there’s larks on the _tappy_[280] there’s ’Arry as sure

as a gun.

The latest new lay’s Demonstrations. You’ve heard on ’em, Charlie,

no doubt,

For they’re at ’em all over the shop. _I_’ave ’ad a rare bustle about.

All my Saturday arfs are devoted to Politics. Fancy, old chump,

_Me_ doing the sawdusty reglar,[281] and follering swells on the

stump!

But, bless yer, my bloater, it isn’t all chin-music[282] votes, and

“’Ear! ’ear!”

Or they wouldn’t catch me on the ready, or nail me for ninepence. No

fear!

Percessions I’ve got a bit tired of, hoof-padding,[283] and

scrouging’s dry rot,

But Political Picnics mean sugar to them as is fly to wot’s wot.

Went to one on ’em yesterday, Charlie; a reglar old up and down lark.

The Pallis free gratis, mixed up with a old country fair in a park,

And Rosherville Gardens chucked in, with a dash of the Bean Feast

will do,

To give you some little idear of our day with Sir Jinks Bottleblue.

Make much of us, Charlie? Lor bless you, we might ha’ bin blooming

Chinese

A-doing the rounds at the ’Ealthries. ’Twas regular go as you please.

Lawn-tennis, quoits, cricket, and dancing for them as _must_ be on the

shove,

But I preferred pecking[284] and prowling, and spotting the mugs

making love.

Don’t ketch _me_ a-slinging my legs about arter a beast of a ball

At ninety degrees in the shade or so, Charlie, old chap, not at all.

Athletics ’aint ’ardly my form, and a cutaway coat and tight bags

Are the species of togs for yours truly, and lick your loose

“flannels” to rags.

So I let them as liked do a swelter; I sorntered about on the snap.

Rum game this yer Politics, Charlie, seems arf talkee-talkee and trap.

Jest fancy old Bluebottle letting “the multitood” pic-nic and lark,

And make Battersea Park of his pleasure-grounds, Bathelmy Fair of his

park!

“To show his true love for the People!” sez one vote-of-thanking

tall-talker,

And wosn’t it rude of a bloke as wos munching a bun to cry “Walker!”?

I’m Tory right down to my boots, at a price, and I bellered “’Ear,

’ear!”

But they don’t cop yours truly with chaff none the more, my dear

Charlie, no fear!

Old Bottleblue tipped me his flipper, and ’oped I’d “refreshed,” and

all that.

“Wy rather,” sez I, “wot do _you_ think?” at which he stared nto his

’at,

And went a bit red in the gills. Must ha’ thought me a muggins, old

man,

To ask sech a question of ’Arry――as though grubbing short was _his_

plan.

I went the rounds proper, I tell yer; ’twas like the free run of a

Bar,

And Politics wants lots o’ wetting. Don’t ketch me perched up on a

car,

Or ’olding a flag-pole no more. No, percessions, dear boy, ain’t my

fad,

But Political Pic-nics with fireworks, and plenty of swiz ain’t ’arf

bad.

The palaver was sawdust and treacle. Old Bottleblue buzzed for a bit,

And a sniffy young Wiscount in barnacles landed wot _’e_ thought a

’it;

Said old Gladstone wos like Simpson’s weapon, a bit of a hass and all

jor,

When a noisy young Rad in a wideawake wanted to give him wot for!

“Yah! boo! Turn ’im hout!” sings yours truly, a-thinkin’ the fun was

at ’and,

But, bless yer! ’twas only a sputter. I can’t say the meeting _looked_

grand.

Five thousand they reckoned us, Charlie, but if so I guess the odd

three

Were a-spooning about in the halleys, or lappin’ up buns and Bohea.

The band and the ’opping wos prime though, and ’Arry in course wos all

there.

I ’ad several turns with a snappy young party with stror coloured

’air.

Her name she hinformed me wos Polly, and wen, in my ’appiest style,

I sez, “Polly is nicer than Politics!” didn’t she colour and smile?

We got back jest in time for the Fireworks, a proper flare-up, and

no kid,

Which finished that day’s Demonstration, an’ must ’ave cost many a

quid.[285]

_Wot_ fireworks and park-feeds _do_ Demonstrate, Charlie, I’m blest

if I see,

And I’m blowed if I care a brass button, so long as I get a cheap

spree.

The patter’s all bow-wow, of course, but it goes with the buns and

the beer.

If it pleases the Big-wigs to spout, wy it don’t cost hus nothink

to cheer.

Though they _ain’t_ got the ’ang of it, Charlie, the toffs ain’t,――no

go and no spice!

Wy, I’d back Barney Crump at our Sing-song to lick ’em two times out

o’ twice!

Still I’m all for the Lords and their lot, Charlie. Rads are my

’orror, you know.

Change R into C and you’ve got ’em, and ’Arry ’ates anythink low.

So if Demonstrations means skylarks, and lotion as much as you’ll

carry,

These “busts of spontanyous opinion” may reckon all round

upon ’Arry.

_Punch._ October 11, 1884.

――――

LIFE IN GAOL.