Mrs. CANOODLE) _discovered in tears over the wreck of a
"Saddlebag" Sofa, very shaky as to legs, and shabby as to
"pile."_
_Angelina_ (_sobbing_). And to think that _dear_ EDWIN should have
spent his long savings on such wretched stuff as _this_! Oh, that
talkative but treacherous tout at Vamp Villa! Why, 'tis only six
months since we were married--(_bohoo!_)--and there's scarcely a thing
in the house that's not either shaky, or shabby, or both!
[_Breaks down._
_Edwin_ (_entering with a flushed face, and clenched fists_). ANGY,
my darling, _don't_ waste your tears over that vile combination of
unseasoned timber and devil's-dust. Rather pluck up a spirit and
pitch into _me_, who was fool enough to be tricked by a plausible
advertisement, a scheming vendor of shoddy furniture, a hired villa,
a verbose villain, and the thrice-told tale of a mythical "Indian
gentleman," an imaginary "emergency," and a purely supposititious
"sacrifice." [_Left lamenting._
* * * * *
"A DANIEL!"
[Illustration: G.O.M. DANIEL in the Irish Lions' Den.]
Years ago, when BRITON RIVIÈRE painted his picture of "_Daniel in the
Lions' Den_," which foppishly-speaking men would speak of as "_Deniel
in the Lions' Dan_," public curiosity was aroused by the fact that
DANIEL was facing the lions with his back to the spectators. Of
course, in this instance, the public mind is not exercised by the
problem which was put to the Showman by an inquiring small boy, in the
memorable formula of inquiry, "Please, Sir, which is DANIEL, and which
is the Lions?" as never, for one moment, could there have existed, in
the densest brain, the smallest doubt as to the identity of the Hebrew
Seer. Should the question now be put by an intending purchaser, Mr.
WILLIAM AGNEW has only to give an adaptation of the historic reply,
and say, "Whichever you like, my little dear; _if_ you pay your money,
you may take your choice."
Now in this grand picture there is no sort of doubt, "no possible
doubt whatever," as to which is DANIEL and which are the Lions; but
there must arise in the spectator's mind the question, _Who was the
painter's model for this figure of_ DANIEL? To this there can be but
one answer, "the G.O.M." This is the painter's model for DANIEL. Here
he stands looking up towards the opening and seeing daylight. His
hands are tied by the bonds of a majority against him. As for the
Lions they may be Irish Lions, who may be thinking of another grand
old DAN, The Liberator, but who, once upon a time, in the good old
Kilmainham Gaol days, would have fallen upon this G.O.M. and torn him
in pieces; not so now. It is a grand picture.
* * * * *
"WHO'S YOUR HATTER?" OR, SIDE-LIGHTS ON ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY.--Years
ago, the great Ritual Case was that of Mr. BENNETT, of St. Barnabas,
Pimlico. Now the most recent is the Archbishop's decision in the
Lincoln Case. The two may be quoted henceforth as "'The Lincoln and
Bennett Cases,' which cover a variety of heads."
* * * * *
"HERE WE GO UP, UP, UP!"--_Mr. Punch_ with Time visits the Heavenly
Bodies. Special Stars engaged for Christmas Entertainment. Look
out for _Mr. Punch's_ Christmas Number, entitled _Punch Among the
Planets._ For once _Toby_ will be Sirius.
* * * * *
SHORTLY TO APPEAR.--Companion Volume to _Oceana_. New Work, by C.S.
P-RN-LL, entitled, _O'Sheana_.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BANK HOLIDAY WIT.
_Mamma_. "COME ALONG, DARLINGS!"
_'Arry_. "ALL RIGHT, MISS! JUST WAIT TILL WE'VE 'AD A DRINK!"]
* * * * *
THE PARLIAMENTARY "ANCIENT MARINER."
(_FRAGMENTS FROM THE LATEST RENDERING OF THE OLD RIME._)
[Sidenote: An Ancient Mariner meeteth Three Guests bidden to St.
Stephen's and detaineth one.]
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
"By thy scant gray looks and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?"
"St. Stephen's doors are open wide,
My duty lies within;
M.P.'s are met, the programme's set,
May'st hear the Irish din."
He holds him with his sinewy hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand me, Ancient One!"
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
[Sidenote: St. Stephen's Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the Grand
Old Seafaring Man, and constrained to hear his tale.]
He holds him with his glittering eye--
St. Stephen's Guest stands still,
And listens, like Midlothian's mob.
The Mariner hath his will.
St. Stephen's Guest stands like a stone.
He cannot chuse but hear;
And thus outspeaks that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
Our ship was cheered, the harbour cleared
Merrily did we drop
Below the Kirk, Tory ill-will
Our vessel might not stop.
[Sidenote: The Mariner tells how his new-launched Craft, after some
adverse gales, sailed northward, with a good wind, and fair weather.]
The sun arose, that erst had left
Our Home-Rule argosy,
And he shone bright, our course was right,
The "flowing tide" ran free.
Higher and higher every day
Our sun shone bright and clear--
St. Stephen's Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud "Hear! Hear!"
[Sidenote: St. Stephen's Guest heareth that business is toward within;
but the monologuising Mariner continueth his tale.]
The Speaker hath paced into the House,
Toward his lofty place;
Gleaming like gold before him goes
The merry, massive Mace.
St. Stephen's Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he could not chuse but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The garrulous Mariner.
[But behold the tale that was told unto St. Stephen's Guest by
the Ancient Mariner is now known unto all men, from repeated
and prolix narrations; the tale to wit of the Mariner's
startling adventure in unsailed seas on board his suddenly
launched _Home Rule_ Argo; how that the Ancient Mariner shot
the Oof Bird (that made the (financial) mare to go, and the
(party) breeze to blow); how that his shipmates cried out
against the Ancient Mariner for killing the bird of good luck,
which lay the golden eggs, but how, when the fog cleared off,
they justified the same, and thus made themselves accomplices
in the act; how "the spell began to break;" how "the Mariner
hath been cast into a trance, and the angelic power" (of
speech) "causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than"
(ordinary) human "life could endure"; how in the Mariner's
opinion the _Home Rule_ Argo yet "stoppeth the way," and until
it hath free course must impede the fair navigation of the
(political) ocean; and how, finally, he, the Ancient Mariner,
is constrained to "pop up" and repeat this tale of change and
chance unto the appointed persons.]
* * * * *
Forthwith this tongue of mine was stirred
To quenchless fluency,
Which forced me to begin my tale,
As now I tell it thee.
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
This ecstasy returns;
And till my thrice-told tale is through
The heart within me burns.
I pass, like _Puck_, from land to land,
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see
I know the man that must hear me,
To him my tale I teach.
* * * * *
What loud uproar bursts from that door!
They're at it hotly there:
Will they be silenced by the tale
Told by the Mariner?
Bim! Boom! There goes Big Ben's deep bell!
The Speaker's in the Chair!
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PARLIAMENTARY "ANCIENT MARINER."
"IT IS AN ANCIENT MARINER,
AND HE STOPPETH ONE OF THREE.
'BY THY SCANT GREY LOCKS AND GLITTERING EYE,
NOW WHEREFORE STOPP'ST THOU ME?'"
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A CHECK.
_Huntsman_. "SEEN THE FOX, MY BOY?"
_Boy_. "NO, I AIN'T!"
_Huntsman_. "THEN, WHAT ARE YOU HOLLARIN' FOR?"
_Boy_ (_who has been scaring Rooks_). "'COS I'M PAID FOR IT!"]
* * * * *
THE DEATH PENALTY; OR, WHO'S TO BLAME?
ACT I.
SCENE--_House of Commons, rather sparsely attended, it being
the occasion of a statement on the needs of the Army to be
made by the_ Secretary for War.
_Secretary for War_ (_continuing his speech_). And so, Mr. SPEAKER,
I trust that I have justified the demand I have made for so many
millions for building Barracks, and conclusively proved that the
Authorities responsible for our military efficiency are thoroughly
alive to the necessity not only of safeguarding the lives, but of
increasing the comfort, of our gallant defenders. (_Cheers_.)
ACT II.
SCENE--_Celebrated London Barracks. Fire just broken out in
top storey of Married Soldiers' Quarters, crowded with women
and children. Soldiers rushing for ladders. Some children
handed up through a trap-door, which is supposed to lead to
roof. No exit on to roof available, and children being slowly
smothered. Screams. Great excitement._
_Non-Commissioned Officer_. Ha! Fire in the "Rookery!" And it'll burn
like paper, being old and rotten! Now, where's the fellow who ought to
have the key of the hydrant? (_Exit in search of him._)
_Labourer employed at Barracks_ (_entering hastily_). Hullo! A fire!
Where's that key of mine for the hydrants? Can't attend to _that_,
however, as there's my wife and family to be saved! (_Rushes out, and
hydrants cannot be unlocked for ten minutes. When they are, they are
found to be without water!_)
_Colonel Commanding the Battalion_ (_just arrived on scene_). No
water! Well, of course there isn't! Hasn't the War Office ordered it
to be turned off at night, spite of my protests? Tell the Fire-Brigade
men to get water wherever they can!
[_Water eventually got in roads several hundred yards from
burning building._
_Non-Com. Officer_ (_directing two soldiers, who have gallantly
rescued a couple of children that have been burning and suffocating
under roof_). Yes, take 'em off to the hospital! Poor little
creatures--not much hope for _them_, I'm afraid! (_To Colonel._) A bad
business, Sir!
_Colonel_. Would have been worse if the men hadn't behaved so well,
and turned themselves into amateur firemen. No thanks to the War
Office that there aren't twenty-two deaths, instead of two. Why,
only six months ago, I warned 'em that the place was "unfit for human
habitation," and a regular death-trap in case of fire, with only one
narrow wooden staircase to the whole block. I wrote that, "if a fire
occurred at night, there must be many deaths." Yet nothing has been
done.
_Non-Com. Officer_. Shocking! There's a talk that the place had been
condemned by the War Office.
_Colonel_. Condemned, but not pulled down! I wonder who'll be
condemned at the Inquest. Shouldn't be surprised if it were the
War-Office Authorities themselves!
[_And so they have been--and quite right too_.
* * * * *
[Illustration: GENERAL PUNCH'S IMPROVED MAGAZINE RIFLE.
1. A Hatchet (_to pull out and fix inside_); 2. A Spear (_ditto_);
3,4,5. Compartments with handles, to be used as Portmanteau; 6. Shirt
Collars and Evening Tie; 7. A Pipe; 8. Tobacco; 9. Cigarette Case;
10. Sandwich Case, Potted Meats, Biscuits, &c.; 11. A Self Air-Loading
Bullet Mechanism; 12. Gladstone Bag; 13. Portable Bath and Hammock;
14. Cooking Stove; 15. Cooking Utensils; 16. A Telescope; 17. A
Walking Stick; 18. An Umbrella; 19. A Billiard Cue; 20. A Scent
Bottle.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PARLIAMENTARY MEET IN A NOVEMBER FOG.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE COUNTRY HOUSE.
(_WHAT OUR ARCHITECT HAS TO PUT UP WITH._)
_Fair Client_. "I WANT IT TO BE NICE AND BARONIAL, QUEEN ANNE
AND ELIZABETHAN, AND ALL THAT; KIND OF QUAINT AND NUREMBERGY, YOU
KNOW--REGULAR OLD ENGLISH, WITH FRENCH WINDOWS OPENING TO THE LAWN,
AND VENETIAN BLINDS, AND SORT OF SWISS BALCONIES, AND A LOGGIA. BUT
I'M SURE _YOU_ KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"]
* * * * *
THE MODERN HERO;
_OR, HOW TO DISCOURAGE CRIME._
HENRY LARRIKIN, who was recently convicted and sentenced to death
for the murder of a nursemaid and infant on Shooter's Hill, is now
confined in ---- Gaol, and is reported to be in excellent spirits.
He passes his time in illuminating texts, which he presents to the
Governor and Warders, and some of which have been disposed of for
enormous sums. A petition has been circulated, and extensively signed,
praying for a remission of his sentence, on the ground of provocation,
it having since transpired that the infant put out its tongue in
passing. Several Jurymen have said, that had this fact been brought
before them at the trial, they would have returned a very different
verdict. Much sympathy is expressed with LARRIKIN, who is quite a
young man. He expresses himself as sanguine of a reprieve.
CENTRAL NEWS TELEGRAM.--LATER INTELLIGENCE.
_Monday_.--LARRIKIN was informed this afternoon, by the Governor of
the Gaol, that the HOME SECRETARY saw no grounds for interfering with
the course of the Law, and that the sentence would consequently be
carried out on Friday next. Two of the Warders, with whom LARRIKIN is
a great favourite, on account of the affability and singular modesty
of his demeanour, were deeply affected, but the prisoner himself bore
the news with extraordinary fortitude and composure. His sole comment
upon the intelligence was, that it was "just his blooming luck." By
special favour of the Authorities he is allowed to see the comments
of the Press upon his case, in which he takes the keenest interest.
A statement that he had on one occasion been introduced to the
nursemaid, through whom his career has been so tragically cut short,
has caused him the deepest irritation. He wishes it to be distinctly
understood that both she and her infant charge were absolute strangers
to him.
LATER TELEGRAM.
_Wednesday Morning_.--LARRIKIN continues wonderfully calm. He is
writing his Memoirs, which he has already disposed of to a Newspaper
Syndicate for a handsome consideration. Those who have been privileged
to see the manuscript report that it reveals traces of unsuspected
literary talent, and is marked in places by a genial and genuine
humour. LARRIKIN's great regret is that he will be unable to have
an opportunity of perusing the press-notices and reviews of this his
first essay in authorship, for which he expects a wide popularity.
FROM A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.
_Thursday_.--To-day LARRIKIN received a visit from an old friend, who
was visibly moved during the interview, in spite of the prisoner's
efforts to console him. "There's nothing to snivel about, old man,"
he said repeatedly, with a tranquil smile. He then inquired if it was
true that there were portraits of him in several of the papers, and
was anxious to know if they were like him. He has executed his will,
leaving the copyright of his manuscript, his sole assets, to his
father, who has been in a comparatively humble position of life, but
who will now be raised to a condition of affluence. The father has
been interviewed, and stated to a reporter that he has been much
gratified by the expressions of sympathy which have been showered upon
his son from all sides. This morning a local florist sent LARRIKIN a
beautiful wreath, in which the prisoner's initials and those of his
victims were tastefully intertwined in violets. LARRIKIN was much
touched, and his eyes filled with tears, which, however, he succeeded
in repressing by a strong effort. His self-control and courage are the
admiration of the officials, by whom he will be greatly missed. All
day he has been busy packing up the furniture with which, by special
permission, his little cell has been provided by his many admirers,
and the interior has already lost much of its late dainty and cosy
appearance. LARRIKIN has been whistling a good deal,--though, as the
day wore on, the tunes he executed became of a less lively character.
Towards evening, however, he recovered his ordinary high spirits, and
even danced a "cellar-flap" for the entertainment of his Warders. A
telegram has just been handed to him from an anonymous sender, who is
understood to be a person of some eminence in bird-stuffing circles,
which contained these words--"You are to be hung on my Aunt's
silver-wedding day. Keep your pecker up." On reading this message.
LARRIKIN came more near to breaking down than he has done hitherto.
He has selected the clothes he is to wear on his last semi-public
appearance; they consist of a plain black Angora three-button lounge
coat, a purple velvet waistcoat, soft doeskin trousers, a lay-down
striped collar and dickey, and a light-blue necktie with a glass pin.
He has presented his only other jewellery--an oroide ring, set with
Bristol diamonds--to the Warder who has been most attentive and
devoted to him during his stay in gaol. He is said to have stated
that he freely forgave the infant whose insulting conduct provoked
his outburst, as he did the nursemaid for not restraining her charge's
vivacity. This intimation, at his express desire, will be conveyed
to the parents of the deceased, and will doubtless afford them the
highest consolation.
_Thursday Night, Later_.--LARRIKIN is sleeping peacefully. His
features--refined by the mental anxiety, and the almost monastic
seclusion to which he has been lately subjected--are extremely
pleasing, and even handsome, set-off as they are by the clean collar
which he has put on in anticipation of his approaching doom. Before
sinking into childlike slumber, he listened with evident pleasure to a
banjo which was being played outside a public-house in the vicinity of
the gaol. The banjoist is now being interviewed, and believes that the
air he must have been performing at the time was "_The Lost Chord_."
The scaffold on which the unfortunate LARRIKIN is to expiate his
imprudent act is now being erected, but the workmen's hammers
have been considerately covered with felt to avoid disturbing the
slumberer.
_Friday Morning_, 9 A.M.--All is now over. The prisoner rose early
and made a hearty breakfast, and plainly enjoyed the cigar which he
smoked afterwards with his friend the Governor, who seemed to regard
the entrance of the executioner as an untimely interruption to the
conversation. "You'll have to wait a bit for the rest of that story,
Governor," was LARRIKIN's light-hearted comment. The unhappy man
then--(_Details follow which we prefer to leave to the reader's
imagination--he will find them all in the very next special
description of such a scene_). LARRIKIN was most anxious that it
should be widely known that, in his own words, "he was true to himself
and the public, and game to the last."
Several reporters were present in the prison-yard, and also a number
of persons of distinction, who were only admitted as a great favour.
It is said that the prison Authorities were compelled to disappoint
thousands who had applied for permission to view the last sad scene.
LARRIKIN's melancholy end will doubtless operate as a warning and an
example to many romantic youths, who are only too easily led away by
the morbid desire for notoriety, which is so prevalent nowadays, and
which is so difficult either to account for, or discourage.--(_Special
Descriptive Report_.)
* * * * *
IN OUR GARDEN.
_Monday, November_ 24.
[Illustration]
Charmed to have a visit from OLD MORALITY to-day. Most kind of him to
find time to run down, seeing all he has on hand. But he's a really
good fellow, of the kind who in all circumstances find time to do a
friendly thing. Always from the first taken a friendly interest in our
little experiment. He is, indeed, indirectly personally responsible
for its undertaking. If I hadn't come across him playing leapfrog
before dinner with AKERS--DOUGLAS and JACKSON, as mentioned some weeks
ago, SARK and I would never have tried this way of passing a Recess.
Hadn't heard OLD MORALITY was going to look in. Expect he wasn't sure
he could get away from Cabinet Council, and so didn't write. When I
came upon him he was standing absorbed in contemplation of ARPACHSHAD.
ARPACHSHAD, himself, so engrossed in problem occupying his mind, that
he did not notice our visitor. Had started yesterday cutting grass on
lawn with machine. Getting on pretty well with it till, this morning,
wind rose, blowing half a gale from Westward. ARPACHSHAD discovered
that, starting with machine from the Westward, he, with wind blowing
astern, got on capitally; but coming back, with wind ahead, there was
decided addition to labour of propelling machine. When OLD MORALITY
arrived, ARPACHSHAD had halted midway across the lawn, and was looking
Westward with air of profound and troubled cogitation.
"I know what he's thinking of," said OLD MORALITY, whose Parliamentary
experience has made him an adept at thought-reading; "he's wondering
if it's possible to mow the lawn all from the Westward, so that he
would have the wind behind him throughout the operation."
No doubt OLD MORALITY had fathomed depth of ARPACHSHAD's meditations.
Pretty to see his manoeuvring: Went down full-sail with assistance of
favouring gale; tried to tack back, bearing away to the North; when
he'd got a little way, slewed round to the West, going off before the
wind to edge of lawn. Finally borne in upon him that the position was
inexorable. He couldn't go with the wind all the time; must retrace
his steps; by tacking was really covering more ground than need be;
was, in fact, doing more work than he had intended. Shocked at this
discovery proceeded to follow ordinary course. Presently catching
sight of solitary leaf careering down walk, fetched broom, and
tenderly tickled the gravel in pursuit of the leaf.
"There is," SARK sharply observed, "nothing ARPACHSHAD enjoys more
than dusting the walk with a broom. It is a process that combines the
maximum of appearance of hard work with the minimum of exertion."
OLD MORALITY pretty lively in anticipation of Session, which opens
to-morrow. Always inclined to take sanguine view of situation. Doesn't
vary now. "Oh, you leave it to us, TOBY, dear boy." he said, when I
expressed hope that he would not risk his precious life and health
by overdoing it. "We've got a splendid programme, and mean to pull
through every Bill. Didn't do much last year, it is true: but don't
you see the advantage of that? If we'd passed all our Bills last
Session, must have arranged a new programme this year, involving
considerable labour. As it is we turn a handle, and there are all the
old things once more; homely and friendly; as the poet says, 'All,
all, are come, the old familiar faces.' There's the Irish Local
Government Bill, the Tithes Bill, Employers' Liability, and a troop of
others. All been brought in before; everybody knows about them; if we
don't pass them this Session they must come up again next."
"Ha!" said SARK; "so there is to be a next Session."
"Certainly," said OLD MORALITY--"and we would have another, if we
could. In fact, I'm not quite sure whether it may not be managed. We
are always suspending Standing Orders, of one kind or another. It is a
Standing Order of the Constitution that no Parliament shall sit longer
than seven years. Very good--in an ordinary way, excellent; though,
perhaps, a little too liberal in its arrangements when Mr. G. is
in power. But as you, TOBY, may, in earlier years, diligently
striving after improvement in caligraphy, have had occasion to note,
Circumstances alter Cases. Here we are, a contented Government, with
a Parliamentary majority always to be relied upon. Why disturb an
ordered state of affairs, and plunge the country into the turmoil
and expense of a General Election? Why not bring in a short Bill
to suspend the Septennial Act, and let the present Parliament go on
sitting indefinitely? Why should the Long Parliament remain a monopoly
of the Seventeenth Century? I do not mind telling you (this, of
course, in confidence) that we have talked the matter over in the
Cabinet. It was the MARKISS who first started it; and, though one or
two objections have been raised, the idea is rather growing upon us,
and I should not wonder if it came to something. You will find no
mention of it in the Queen's Speech--but that is neither there nor
here."
"I have noticed," said SARK, "that of late it has happened that Bills
mentioned in the Queen's Speech come to nothing, whilst the Session is
largely taken up with discussion of Bills which find no place in that
catalogue. Last year, for example, JOKIM's Compensation Bill wasn't
mentioned in the Queen's Speech; and yet it filled a large part in the
programme of the Session."
"Ah," said OLD MORALITY, changing the subject, "I see ARPACHSHAD has
nearly come up with that leaf. He'll be going to his dinner now,
I suppose, and I think I must be off. Shall see you at the House
to-morrow. Sorry for you to break up the associations of your rural
life; but that only temporary."
Saw OLD MORALITY off at the station. Came back to pack up our spade
and hoe, and leave some general instructions with ARPACHSHAD. He seems
much touched at the approaching separation. Quite unable to continue
the lawn-mowing. Followed us about with his jack-knife open, clipping
here and there a dead stem, so as to keep up an appearance of
incessant labour.
"Ours is only a change of occupation, ARPACHSHAD," said SARK. "We
cease to labour here, but we carry on our work in another field. We
go to town, leaving, as the Poet GRAY might have said, the garden to
solitude and you."
"Excuse _me_, Gents," said ARPACHSHAD. a look of anxiety crossing his
mobile face, "but you can't leave it to me altogether. I could manage
well enough when you were here, helpin' and workin'. But, when you're
gone, I'll have to have at least one extry man." SARK pleased at
this testimony to value of our assistance; but it really means that
ARPACHSHAD intends to do less than ever, running us into the expense
of a second gardener.
* * * * *
PARS ABOUT PICTURES.
[Illustration]
Arrive at Fine Art Society's Place, and there look at HOKUSAI's
drawings and engravings. Who was HOKUSAI? Why, don't you know? He was
our own LIKA-JOKO's great-grandfather. "Great-grandfather was a most
wonderful man, There's none of 'em does what great-grandfather can,"
except LIKA JOKO, of course. Obliged to say this, because I know LIKA
JOKO goes about with a Daimio's two-handed sword, and he would think
nothing of giving me the cut direct. But to return to HOKUSAI--sounds
like sneezing in a Dutch dialect, doesn't it?--his drawings are full
of originality and humour; he was possessed of wondrous versatility
and great industry. He began to draw at six, and continued till he
was well-nigh ninety. Were he flourishing now, he might illustrate the
lucubrations of
Yours par-tially, OLD PAR.
* * * * *
"UP ABOVE THE WORLD SO HIGH!"--See _Mr. Punch Among the Planets_--his
Christmas Number. In spite of its title, it is not "over the heads of
the People." Look out below!
* * * * *
NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.