Punch (99.1890)

October 4, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

1G7

LOST HAIRS-AT-LAW.

"Sequel to a Breach of Promise Case" is the heading
to a paragraph in the Daily Telegraph, recording how
Turner v. Avant was heard before Mr. Commissioner
Kebb, who adjourned the case for three weeks, because, as
Mr. Agabeg, the Counsel for the Plaintiff, observed, with-
out agabegging the question, they couldn't get any infor-
mation essential to the proceedings as to the whereabouts
of the Miss Hairs, who, after failing in her action against
Sir Geoege Elliott, M.P., gave up minding her own busi-
ness, which she sold, and retired to the Continent; and
Plaintiffs also wanted to know the present address of a
certain, or uncertain, Mr. Holland, somewhile Secretary to
the Avant Company. Odd this. Not find Hairs in Sep-
tember ! Cry " En Avant! " and let loose the harriers!—a
suggestion that might have been appropriately made by the
Commissioner whose name alone, with respect be it said,
should qualify him for the Chief Magistracy in the Isle of
Dogs. In the meantime the Plaintiffs have three weeks'
adjournment in order to search the maps and find Holland.

Titled Months.—In the list given by the Figaro of those
present at Cardinal Lavigeeie's great anti-slavery function
at Saint Sulpice was " un ancien ministre plenipotentiare le
Baron d'Avril." "What a set of new titles this suggests for
any creation of new Peers in England! Duke of December !
Earl of Februaey ! Of course, the nearest title to Baron
d'Avbil with us is the Earl of Mabch. The Marquis of
Mat sounds nioe; Lord August, Baron July ; and, should
a certain eminent ecclesiastical lawyer ever become a Law
Lord, there will be yet another British cousin to Baron
d'AvEiL and the Earl of Mabch in—Lord Jeune.

No Mobe LawOeficebs!—"An Automatic Recorder on
the Forth Bridge" was a heading to a paragraph in the
St. James's last Saturday. The announcement must have
startled Sir Thomas Chambebs, Q..G. Heavens! If there
is one Automatic Recorder in the North, why not another

in the South ? Automatic Recorders would be followed by
Common Serjeants, and-Isn't it too awful!

Automatic I

RATHER A LARGE ORDER.

The Eerr Professor. '' Ach—best Miss Rosy, till you kindly turn me over 1"

LOOKING FORWARD.

(Extract from " The Daily Prize-fighter," September 24, 1900.)

Yesterday morning Loo Bobbett and Ben Mouseteap had an
interview with Mr. Pheasant, the Magistrate presiding in the North-
West London Police Court. The approaches to the Court were crowded
from an early hour. Amongst those in the street we noticed Billy
Bloweeoth, and Sam Sneezer, the well-known pot-boys from " The
Glove and Wadding" and "The Tap o'Claret" Hotels, Shiny
Moses, Aabon Isaacs, and Sandy the Sossidge (so-called by his
friends on account of his appearance), the celebrated bankers from
the West-end of Whitechapel, and a large gathering of the elite
of the Lambeth Road. Inside the Court the company was, if pos-
sible, even more select. Mr. Titan Chapel, the proprietor of the
Featherbed Club, was the first to arrive in his private brougham,
and he was followed at short intervals by the Earl of Abbtemore,
Lord Trimi Gloveson, Mr. Toowith Yew, Mr. Beandic Ohld,
Mr. Splitts Odee, Mr. Gincock Tale, and Mr. Angus Teweer, with
a heap more of the best known patrons of sport in the Metropolis.
Little time was cut to waste in the preliminaries, and it was generally
acknowledged at the end of the day that no prettier set-to had been
witnessed for a long time than that which took place at the North-
West London Police Court. We append below some of the more
salient portions of the evidence.

Inspector Chizzlem. I produce a pair of gloves ordinarily used at
London boxing matches. [Produces them from his waistcoat pocket.

Mr. Pheasant (the Magistrate). Pardon me. I don't quite under-
stand. Were the gloves that you produce to be used at this
particular competition ?

Inspector Chizzlem. No, your Worship. These are one ounce
gloves. The gloves with which these men were tojight are known
as " feather-weight" gloves.

Mr. Pheasant. Ah, I see. Feather-weight, not feather-bed, I
presume. (Loud Laughter, in which both the accused joined.) Have
you the actual gloves with you ?

Mr. Titan Chapel (from the Solicitor's table). I have brought

them, Sir. Here-dear me, what can I have done with them ? I

thought I had them somewhere about me. (Pats his various pockets.
A thought strikes him. He pulls out his watch.) Ah, of course,
how foolish of me! I generally carry them in my watch-case.

[ Opens watch, produces them, and hands them up to Magistrate.

Mr. Pheasant. Dear me!—so these are gloves. I know I am in-
experienced in these matters, but they look to me rather like elastic
bands. (Boars of laughter. Mr. Pheasant trii s them on.) How-
ever, they Eeem to fit very nicely. Yes, who is the next witness ?

The Earl of Arriemore (entering the witness-box). 1 am, my noble
sportsman.

Mr. Pheasant. Who are you ?

The Earl of Arriemore. Aebiemobe's my name, yer Washup,
wich I'n bloomin' Lord.

Mr. Pheasant. Of oourse—of course. Now tell me, have you ever
boxed at all yourself ?

The Earl of Arriemore. Never, thwulp me, never! But I like to
set the lads on to do a bit of millin' for me.

Mr. Pheasant. Quite so. Very right and proper. What do you
say to the gloves produced by the inspector 'i

The Earl of Arriemore. Call them gloves P Why, I calls 'em
woolsacks, that's what I calls 'em. [Much laughter.

Mr. Pheasant. No doubt, that would be so. But now with regard
to these other gloves, do you say they would be calculated to deaden
the force of a blow; in fact, to prevent such a contest from degene-
rating into a merely brutal exhibition, and to make it, as I under-
stand it ought to be, a contest of pure skill ?

The Earl of Arriemore. That's just it. Why, two babbies might
box with them gloves and do themselves no harm. And, as to skill,
why it wants a lot of skill to hit with 'em at all.

[ Winks at Lord Tbimi Gloveson, who winks back.

Mr. Pheasant. Really ? That is very interesting, very interesting
indeed! I think perhaps the best plan will be for the two principals
to accompany me into my private room, to give a practical exempli-
fication of the manner in wnich such a contest is generally conducted.
(At this point the learned Magistrate retired from the Bench, and
was followed into his private room by Loo Bobbett, Ben Mouse-
tbap, and their Seconds. After an hour's interval, Mr. Pheasant
returned to the Bench alone.) 1 will give my deoision at once.
The prize must be handed over to Mr. Mousetbap. That last cross-
counter of his fairly settled Mr. Bobbett. I held the watch myself,
and I know that he lay on the ground stunned for a full minute.
(To the Usher.) Send the Divisional Surgeon into my room at once,
and fetch an ambulance. The Court will now adjourn.

[Loud applause, which was instantly suppressed.

Mr. Pheasant (sternly). This Court is not a Prize-Ring.