Punch: Punch (76.1879)

232

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[May 24, 1879.

The Bill was received with general civility, and general reserve. Thus
far it has not got further than promise, from its start in compromise.
It is true, the £50,000 a year may do a good deal to grease the way for it.

Friday {Lords).—

" And thrice he routed all his foes,
And thrice he slew the slain ! "

Such, in Essence, was the gallant deed of the Macallum Moke
to-night. He summed up into a slashing two hours' speech all the
Opposition has been saying in all its arraignments of Lord Beacons-
field and his Cabinet-men, since " Peace with Honour " was brought
back from Berlin. And very well the Macallum Moke did it. The only
question that occurs to one is, "Was it worth doing, all over again ? "

To be sure, ill-used Macallum Moke has been out of it all,
nursing his gout on the shores of the Mediterranean; and it was
hard upon him to be kept in that state of suppressed speech, which
is as bad as suppressed gout. Now that he has blown off the steam,
let us hope he will be better.

But it was something to have the pleasure of leaving that sting in
the tail of a two hours' talk :—

"Yes, my Lords, you are beginning to be found out. The people of this
country are beginning to see that you have not obtained for them what they
expected. It is not we, the Members of the Opposition, who are accusing
you. Time is your great accuser; the course of events is summing up the
case against you. What have you to say—I shall await to hear—what have
you to say why you should not receive an adverse verdict at the hands of the
public, as you certainly will be called upon to receive it at the bar of history ? "

No wonder Lord Beaconsfteld called this, "if not malevolent,
envenomed." The venom is what makes stings sting. It would be
as idle to attempt bottling, in the shape of Essence, Lord B.'s stale
defence, as the Duke of Argyll's stale attack, or Lord Kimberley's
crambe repetita served cold to empty benches, or renowned Salis-
bury's oil of vitriol. Only Punch must preserve Lord Granville's
dash of sauce piquante, that the Macallum More had not been
" flogging a dead horse," as the Marquis had elegantly put it, but
flogging something in the shape of a Government, which was not
dead yet,—whatever it might be after Dissolution.

It was quite an " extra night," and no wonder the galleries were
crowded, with such stars in the bill, however stale their parts.

{Commons.)—In the morning, Committee on Army Discipline Bill.

In the evening, Sir W V. Harcourt tried to put the Government in
the hole, on their concession to the Russians of three months over
the Berlin Treaty limit for evacuation of Bulgaria and Eastern
Roumelia. But Sir Stafford held on tight to the Salisbury inter-
pretation, that when you talk of "an evacuation in nine months,"
you mean one that begins at the end of nine months, not one that's
finished in the course of them.

Mr. Knatchbull-Hugessen tried to get a Committee on Brewers'
Licence Duty, which he thinks a hardship. The House agreed with
Sir Stafford (by 115 to 53), that Brewers were rather let off too
easy than weighted too heavily, and that, on the whole, as Sir
Wilfrid put it, they were the best-off trade going.

And why not, while they brew the best of beer ? grumbles a
Basso profondo.

INJYABLE INJIA:

or, notes and sketches of a specially-commissioned artist.

By FUZZELI PRINCEPS.

Chapter IX.

Advertisement — Walls— Suggestion— Visit—Imperial—Payment—
Sahib—Shoes— Umbrella—Booty—Bowers —Silence —Albany—
Royal Highness — Tic —Hanki— Chamberlain—Khanoodlars—
SaUee— The Roof— View—Difficult— 0'Richard—Hit—Sittee—
Piano.

started in my
last the idea of a
Private Dyery
Company, Lim-
ited, for Injian
complexions. My
advertising pic-
ture beats Pickles
hollow. Injian
complexion one
side, European
t' other. Look on
this cheek and on
that. How do you
like my cheek ?

A propos of
walls, what a
place for adver-
tisements the
Great Wall of
China would be !
It would be worth
Mr. Willing's
while to send out
and speculate.

Let him start
this one of mine.
I'm ready, he's
Willing.

Went to see Toobob Andar JTizzi, at one time the most powerful
among the dusky Native Rulers. He was formerly a full sovereign,
but has lost quite seven-eighths of his power. Poor Toobob Andar
Tizzi owns only the power of a Half-Crowned potentate now. He
was a great gambler at one time, and lost the bulk of his property
to Rajah Tossar. This makes him penurious and stingy. He
asked me whether Government would pay him for sitting. I replied
that I would lay his claims before the Imperial Government on my
return.

No one is allowed to approach him with shoes on. I left mine,
with my umbrella, at the door. There were two holes in my stock-
ings, which annoyed me, because it shows that she . . . , no matter
—it reminded me of home, where my roughest expression is " Darn
my old socks! " When I came out again, they were gone. No one
knew anything about them. No one had ever seen the Sahib's shoes,
or umbrella.

"Was the Sahib quite sure he had them on when he came ? " they
asked. Yes, the Sahib was. And the Sahib was equally sure he
had not got them when he left.

I have never seen them since. Catch me taking off my shoes
again as a matter of Court etiquette. If I do, I '11 pocket them.
The Rajah's head-man—or rather foot-man—as it is he who collects
all the visitors' shoes, and gives them to his grasping old master—
said to me,

" Rajah be as big as Sahib some day. Take Sahib's place."

" Why? " I answered, unsuspectingly.

" 'Cos," he replied, " Rajah stand in Sahib's shoes."

And then, ere I could recover, he had bolted. It suddenly struck
me that I had heard his voice before. Could it have been Rummi ?
No time just now to inquire. But I will.

His master has got quite a wonderful collection of the shoes which
he has taken as his booty. Side-splitter this; a trifle old, but all
the better for keeping.

This morning saw the Bowers of Silence. As there are " sermons
in stones," I am delighted at the notion of these Bowers. The head
keeper is a functionary well known all over Europe by the name of
DnuMM Krambho. A more charming retreat for one whose ears have
been pierced by the idiotic chatter of Society, I cannot imagine. I
have taken rooms in the Bowers of Silence for some time.

It'is an establishment something between the Albany and an alms-
house, where your poor bedesman will ever pray. Only here they
don't ever pray, but ever play, at Double Dummy. There are three
others besides myself, and, as we are perfect Trappists in our ob-
servance of the rules—never speaking except with our fingers, and
occasionally our noses—so all our repartees are down on the_ nail—
and you can imagine what a jolly quiet time we have of it, and,
living by the rule of Thumb, what is the silence of the Bowers in
these Bowers of Silence.

The name is supposed to be derived not from the English word
" Bower," meaning an Arbour of Refuge amongst honeysuckles and
roses, but from an Anglo-Indian word signifying the Polite People
—that is, the Salaamers, or Bowers. Here is the illustration of my
meaning. This is how the Silent Bowers salute one another when-
ever they meet.

Monday Morning.—I have never seen a more perfect specimen of
Injian beauty, even in this land of perfect specimens, than H.R.
Wyeree Sallee Hoo Rao, the lovely Princess Regnant of the
Khanoodlar people. She is herself a true Khanoodlar, and, heart-whole
as I am, and proof against all assaults of the fair enemy of man-
kind, yet I own I was very nearly taken prisoner by this Gracious
Lady. I might this day have been King of the Khanoodlars, and
monarch of all I surveyed, had I only popped the question.

The Khanoodlars are, however, a rum sort of people ; and when I
said I wanted to paint their Oueen, I was given to understand that
no interview could be granted to a foreigner, except in the sight of
all the people.

I was not sorry to hear this, as had our interview been a tete-a-
tete—-her head against mine—why, I should have lost my own
utterly, and have been now Fuzzeli Princeps, the First King of the
Khanoodlars. So, of course, I said to Her Royal Highness that she
had only to command, and her humble servant would obey.

She appointed the following morning, early—4 a.m.

" Oho! " thinks I to myself—" no one will be up at that hour. Is
this a trap ? "