Punch: Punch (100.1891)

June 13, 1891.] PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 285

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Messes. R. Osgood & Co. in advertising Miss Sabah Obme Jewett's
book, Strangers and Wayfarers, quotes an extract from one of Mr.
Russell Lowell's letters, which runs thus:—

But no! it was not to be. Tbey must seek for help from another
quarter! Suddenly there emerged from tbe darkness a Btrange-
looking structure, that with its lights seemed bent upon running them
down. They signalled for help, and the grotesque vessel was hove to.
What do you want ? " asked a gruff voice, to their great delight,

" I remember once at a dinner of the Royal Academy, wishing there might ; in English. " What are you a haling us for ? "
be a toast in honour of the Little Masters, such as Tenniel, Du Matjrieb., " We are shipwrecked travellers," explained the spokesman of the
and their fellows." j party ; " and we ask for conveyance'to a place of safety."

He " wished " it, but was the wish a silent one, or did it find ex- "A place of safety—sounds like a cab-stand," muttered the other,
pression in a speech ? No matter : there are the Old Masters and the " Well, jump in." Thus invited, the shipwrecked travellers entered
Young Masters, there are the Middle-As?ed Masters; there are the j what seemed to them to be a welcome harbour of refuge. Bat they
Great Masters ; and, according to Mr. B,ussell Lowell, there are had not proceeded far when the man who had already spoken to
" the Little Masters," without any middLe term at all. " The Little ; them again addressed them.

Masters," like children in the nursery of Art, not admitted to " Come—all of you—turn out—but first pay me," and then he
dinner, but who come in afterwards for dessert. May they come \ mentioned a considerable sum of money.

in for their just deserts, as no doubt they will some day. Well, j " Have you no mercy ?" cried a fair-haired girl, pointing to the
according to this Lowelly estimation of merit, these would be the Lesser ' white and rain-drenched locks of her ancient parents.
Masters, and after them the No Masters at all, except perhaps the "Not a bit, Miss," returned the semi-savage, with a hideous grin.
Toast-Masters. But why not follow a kind of public school classifi- " And who are you, rude man ? " she asked, plucking up in her
cation which divides one form—of course all the artists belong to f very despair some spirit. " Are you the Captain ? "

the very best form,
and, like Sir Fbede-
bick the President,
show the very best
form — into several
compartments, so that
we should have in one
form sav, the Fifth,
Upper Fifth, Middle
Fifth, subdivided into
Upper and Lower
Middle, then Lower
Fifth, with a similar
subdivision ? Orders
of merit to be worn in
the button-hole could
then be distributed,
and a new Order of the
"B.P.",not "British
Public," but "Brush
and Pencil," could be
instituted, to be en-
titled fully, " The
Masters of the Black
and White Art."

In the Fortnightly,
besides an article on
the prevailing epi-
demic, by Sir Mobell
Mackenzie, M.D.,
which finishes with
much the sort of gene-
ral advice that was
given by Mr. Justice
Starleigh to Si am
Weller. to the effect
that "You had better
be careful, Sir," who-
ever you are, who
read this short, but
generally interesting

THE TRAVELLER'S
FRIEND.

{A Hint for the coming
Holidays.)
Deae Mb. Punch,—
As we are within
measurable distance of
the time when every-
one will be thinking
of going abroad, per-
haps you will allow me
to make a practical
suggestion. No doubt
you will have observed
that, according to the
Correspondent of the
Times, recounting the
"recent railway out-
rage in Turkey," the
Brigands "chose five
of the most opulent-
paper. There is an ~ looking of their vie-

" (STAN)-HOPE TOLD A FLATTERING TALE."

Mr, Punch [to War Secretary), "Vert well on Account ; but when is he to have
his Reward in Full, like his Brothers of the Combatant Branch ?"

Much the same
thing—I am called the
Conductor."

"And what is the
name of this dreadful
conveyance ? " again
questioned the damsel,
with a shuddering
glance at what seemed
to be a straw-strewn
cabin.

" It is called," re-
plied the man, defi-
antly, "the Pirate
Bus ! " On hearing
this, the entire party
uttered a despairing
cry, and fainted !

anonymous paper on an imaginary election at the Royal Aca- | tims, and told them that they meant to hold them to ransom." I am
demy, noticeable only for an excellent imitation of Mr. George ! not surprised at this occurrence, for something of the same sort once
Mebedith's style. The Novelist is supposed to look in casually, happened to me. I am very well to do, and I am fond of what I believe
and, finding an election imminent, he offers sage words of counsel, ! is vulgarly called " globe-trotting." _ I do not care to be encumbered
and then begs to be allowed to "float out of their orbit by a : with too much luggage, and if there is a thorn to the rose of my sweet
bowshot." It seems to me that the paper was written for the sake of : content it is the objection that my wife makes to my personal appear-
this one short paragraph, which, as a close parody, is inimitable, ance. She will have it that a suit of thoroughly comfortable dittos
A Modern Idyll, by the Editor, Mr. Fbank Habbis, is, as far as this ; is not the proper garb for a stroll on the Boulevards des Italiens, or
deponent is concerned, like the Rule of Three in the ancient Nursery j a lounge on the Piazza San Marco. As for my wide-awake, she
Rhyme, for it " bothers me," and, though written with considerable ! declares (and I can assure you that I have not had it for more than
dramatic power, yet it seems rather the foundation for a novel i ten years) it is absolutely disgraceful!

which the Author felt either disinclined to continue, or unable to
finish. Alteb Hego {in the Office of the B. de B.-W.)

But to my story. I have said that I myself was once attacked by
Brigands. Our train was stopped in strictly regulation fashion.
I believe the customary number of engine-drivers, stokers, and
guards were shot, or otherwise accounted for. Then the pas-
sengers were inspected. I was rather nervous, for, truth to tell, my
pockets were lined with untold gold and notes. The Chief of the
Brigands—a most gentlemanly person—glanced at my coat with a

THE TYRANTS OF THE STRAND !

{Fragment from a Romance, Founded, upon a Modern Strike.)
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled, the rain | slight shudder of pain, and then raised his eyes to my head-gear.

pelted, and the poor travellers were drenched to the skin. They j That seemed to satisfy him. " Set him free!" he cried to the two
shaded their eyes, and peered forth into the blackness to see if 1 ruffians who guarded me, " and never let him see me again I" I

succour was at hand. Their strength was exhausted, and they felt
they could go no further. Oh ! what would they not have given to
be once more on board the tight little craft they had abandoned I

never did 1 Yours sincerely,

One who was Saved by his Hat.
The Retreat, Old Closeborough,