Punch (93.1887)

270

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[December 10, 1887.

SO VERY LIKELY.

Small Rustic (to Brown, whose Cltampion North-Caspian Bear-hound has just gobbled up one oj Farmer RaeJcstraw's Prize Babbits, which had
got out ofthe hutch). "If yeb'll oi' me Tuppence, Zur, I'll swear it wos the Babbit as begun it!"

ON THE WEONG SCENT.

Master of Hounds, loquitur :—

" Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouths
like bells. [tells
Each under each." So Shakspeaee'8 Theseus

The merits of his tuneful Spartan pack.
"Would I eould echo it concerning mine I
Tut, tut! They 're off again on their own line.

Come back, ye fools, come back I

I envy Theseus ! Just the sort of hounds
For a true Tory huntsman ; kept in bounds

By discipline none ventures to defy.
"With such a pack I should be well content;
But some of mine are keen on a false scent,

And off on a wild cry.

Oh, these young dogs! They think disorder's
dash;

Heedless of horn, rebellious to the lash ;

Just now, too, when our quarry is so clear!
Oh, hang the howling, yelping, whimpering
On a fine herring-trail the fools have got. [lot!

They '11 spoil the chase, I fear.

Comeback! Comeback! What,"Vincent,"

"Bartlett," ho!
This sort of thing won't pay at all, you know.

We are not, now, after that sort of game.
Ah, sweet Sir Soger, our Spectator's friend,
What would you say to this ? Come, let it

For shame, ye curs, for shame ! [end.
Addison's "good old Knight" was happier
In his well-ordered pack the casual jar [far.

Of a raw dog or " noted Liar " met
No recognition ; no, " he might have yelped
His heart out," but the row had nothing
helped

The hounds astray to set.

Here be "notorious Liars " in fall force
(The epithet is technical, of course).

''Torrtngton,"back! Back,"Stanley"!
" Ecrotd," back!
Heed "the old hounds of reputation" here.
This shindy must be stopped, or 'twill, I fear,

Demoralise the pack!

THE OLDEST SKETCHING CLUB IN
THE WORLD.

At the house of Nat Langham young men
were taught how to use their hands skilfully
years agone; at the home of the Langham
their hands are trained with equal care and
discretion, with a different end in view. At
the former they were excited, at the latter
they are soothed. The spirits of the last are
finer, if less ardent, than those of the first.
Friday cinnot be unlucky, for all their
sketches are produced on that proverbially un-
fortunate day. A subject is given, and in two
hours, over pipes and coffee, it is completed.
Marvellous these rapid acts of sketchmanship!
The Impressionists nowhere ! The result ?
Well, go to the Gallery, 23, Baker Street.
Look at the collection of pictures—on the
two hours' system—by Messrs. Stacex Masks,
Caldeeon, Feed Walker, Hodgson, Cat-
teem ole, B. W. Leader, Chahles Keene,
E. Hates, H. Mooee, Vicat Cole, Frank
Dicksee, E. Duncan, C. J. Lewis, F. Weekes,
Cabl Haag, and other clever gentlemen, and
see if Mr. Punch is not right in his com-
mendation. The Langham Sketching Club
has existed, over half a century, and this is
its first public exhibition. Ah! well, it is
never too late to mend.

The Winter's Tale at the Lyceum.

There's a charm in her innocent glances,
A charm in her step when she dances,
For Perdita, '' nary
A one," like our Mart,
The sweetest of Sweet Willum's fancies.

To those who may not have heard it, a
Chance most distinct will be Perdita.

So, see now, we say,

Mart Anderson play, [it. Ah!
You'll regret, when too late you've deferred

The Latest and Best from Berlin.

The Crown Prince was reported last week
to be decidedly better. May it be so, and so
go on. " His Imperial Highness," wrote the
Correspondent of the Standard, " continues
to express the fullest confidence in Sir Morell
Mackenzie." And Mr. Punch, in the name
of all Englishmen who are uninfluenced by any
feeling akin to professional jealousy, "says
ditto," to the Crown Prince. Prosit!

Mes. R. is astonished that the English do
not name streets and places after the names of
their great Poets and their works. She says
she only remembers two exceptions ; one was
a Hamlet in the Country, and the other was
Wandsworth ; the latter being so called after
the Poet who wrote The Excursion,—pro-
bably, she thinks, a cheap excursion to this
very spot, which is within a cab-fare of town.

The Third Edition of Mr. Frith's Recol-
lections is now o\it. We hear it is dedicated
to Archdeacon Sumner, and that the motto se-
lected is the nautical quotation, "Port it is !'