Punch: Punch (101.1891)

November 28, 1891.] PUNCH, OK, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

257

In an Avenue.

Calch. {to himself, as he walks hurriedly on). I only saved myself
in time. I don't think Maud noticed anything—she couldn't have
been so innocent and indifferent if she had . . . And Hypatia won't
enlighten her any further now —after what she knows. It's rather
a relief that she does know . . . She took it very well, poor girl—
very well. I expect she is really beginning to put up with Podbuey
—I 'm sure I hope so, sincerely f

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

" I dearly love reading a ghost-story," quoth the Baron, "when, as
the song says,' The lights are low, And the flickering shadows, Softly
come and go.' And I did hope that Cecilia de Noel was going to be
just the very sort of book for a winter's fireside. Disappointed.

There is a ghost
in it, and there's
Cecilia de Noel
(good Christmassy
name, isn't it ?)
who instructs the
ghost in his neg-
lected Catechism;
for the ghost is as
much an Atheist
as the unbelieving
Sadducee in this
same story, who,
after all, is not
converted. 'Alas!
Poor Ghost! '
Very poor ghost!
Bring me
another ghost! ''
cries the Baron.
No other ghost is
forthcoming to the
invocation, but a
book is placed in
his hands entitled
Fourteen to One.
The Baron was
about to dismiss
it as a betting
book—judging by its title—when nis eye caught the name of Eliza-
beth Stuart Phelps as authoress. So he read many of the short
stories therein. She has in many places the touch of Dickers. All
are good; but for pathos, keen observation, and dramatic surprise,
"give me," says the Baron, emphatically, "the short story of The
Madonna of the Tubs.'" Admirable ! Those who take and act upon
the Baron's tip, will do well to ask for Fourteen to One, and see that
they get it.

What are the Baron's sentiments as to Christmas things? He refused
to have anything to say to games and cards. Cards—well, we all
know whose books some puritanical party said they were. But these
comic and artistic Christmas Cards of Raphael Tuck do not come
into that category ; and same is to be said of Messrs. Hildesheimer's,
so there's an end on't. Henceforth, says the Baron, " No Cards."

" Come to me, 0 ye children! " as some one sings—Arthur Cecil
for choice—and it might be adapted for the occasion by the Pub-
lishers of Chatterbox, in which box there's a prize. Messrs. Roet-
ledge go in for the old, old tales. They've kindly given Mother
Hubbard a new dress; and as for their Panorama of the '' Beasteses,"
it is like a picture-walk in the Zoo. Some Historic Women, well
selected by Dayenpobt Adams, who should have styled it Christmas
Eves by Adams. With Mrs. Moleswoeth's Bewitched Lamp the
Baron's Assistant is much pleased. Pictures ought to have been in
oil, and there should have been a Wicked Fairy in it,—but there isn't.

My " Co."reports that Mrs. Geimwood's long-expected book, My
Three Years in Manipur (Bentley), is worthy of the theme, and
adds a fresh laurel to the chaplet worn by the lady on whose breast
the Queen pinned the E,ed Cross. The moving story is told with a
simplicity that looks like the development of the highest art. But
the heroine of Manipur is unmistakably artless. She is content to
jot down, as if she were writing a letter home, her impressions of
what she sees, and her account of what passes before her eyes. She
has the gift of reproducing with a few strokes of the pen, portraiture
of anything that has struck her. The only thing missed is detailed
report of her own brave bearing through the fearful night when the
Presidency was attacked, and during the dreadful days that followed
on the night towards Cachar. No one reading Mrs. Grimwood's
narrative would guess what splendid part she played in that tragedy.
Fortunately that has been told elsewhere, and the omission is an
added charm to a book that has many others—including a portrait
of the author. The Babon De Book-Worms and Co.

CIVIL SERVICE EXHIBITION.

Deae" Me. Punch,—The Military Exhibition was such a success,
and the Naval Exhibition was such a successor, that we Govern-
ment Clerks invoke your powerful aid to help us to establish next
year a Civil Service Exhibition. The Public have really no idea
what wondrous curiosities there are in the Civil Service, and would,
I feel sure, be amused and instructed at a well-organised and represen-
tative Exhibition. At 10"15 a.m. they would see real live Clerks
sign real Attendance-Books, and insert (real or unreal) times of arrival.
In the course of the morning there might be an Exhibition of Civil
Servants over sixty-five years of age,who didn't want to retire, with
a similar number of Civil Servants, of fifty-five years of age, who
didn't want them to stay. In the afternoon, in the Arena, would
daily be attempted the difficult feat of proceeding from the Second
Division to the Higher Division. The obstacles would be repre-
sented hy real Treasury Clerks and Civil Service Commissioners,
holding Orders in Council and Treasury Minutes; and the Clerk
successful in performing the feat might be created a Duke.

In one of the kiosks a lecture on " Sick Leave and hoiv to spend
it," by the Earl and the Doctor, might be delivered hourly. In
another kiosk, official C.B.'s would be on show; Jubilee C.B.'s being
classed together on one side, and special prominence being given to
those C.B.'s who hadn't applied for the honour, and to those who had
obtained it for real services otherwise unrecognised. After dark the
"Treasury Ring" might join hands and dance round the flashing
light of their own unassisted intellect.

The different refreshment rooms (furnished by the Office of Works)
would be classified according to the varying rates of Subsistence Allow-
ance in force in the Service. Here the dinner for the £l-a-day man—
there the tea for the 10s. -a-day man. Special luncheon rates for those
not absent from home at night, but absent for more than ten hours.

Visitors might be searched on arrival and departure by real Custom
House Officers. This would be sure to make it popular. Please, dear
Mr. Tunch, do help us. Yours, &c, A Government Cleee.

ENGLISH OPERA AS SHE ISN'T SUNG.

It seems impossible to support a Royal English Opera House with
its special commodity of English Opera, that is, Opera composed by
an Englishman to an Englishman's libretto, and played by English
operatic singers. Lvan-
hoe, a genuine English
Opera, by a genuine
English Composer (with
an Irish name), produced
with great eclat, has,
after a fair run and lots of
favour, been Doijl-ecarte,

" Very sorry, my dear Sir Ivanhoe, but you 're rather too heavy for this
Carte. We shall get along' better with a lighter weight."

in order to make room for the Basoche, an essentially French Opera,
by French Composer and Librettists, done, of course, into English, so
as to be " understanded of the people." The Basoche has caught
on," and our friends in front, including Composer, Librettist, and
Middlemen—Deubiolanus, who bought it, and Doylt Caety, who
bought it of Sir Deubi—are all equally pleased and satisfied. Con-
sidered as a matter of business, what signifies the nationality as long
as the spec pays ?—tout est Id. Only why retain the differentiating
title of "English " for the establishment ? Why not call it " The
Cosmopolitan Opera House"? Of course this applies, nowadays,
to Covent Garden Theatre, which is no longer the Italian Opera
House, but simply the Covent Garden Opera during the Operatic
Season, when French, English, Italian, and German Operas are
played by a Babel of singers. By the way, while on the subject of
nomenclature, why not The Royal Babel Opera House" ?