Punch (77.1879)

August 23, 1879.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVAEI. 73

TACT.

Admiring Friend. "What, another Picture ? Why, that's the Second

you 've finished this week ! "

Pictor. "The Third, my Boy, the Third!"

Admiring Friend {wishing to he pleasant). "Ah, -wonderful! That's what

i always say when i hear people abuse your pictures. ' they may be
bad,'' i always say ; ' but just look at the lot of them he turns out ! 1 "

u NOBLESSE OBLIGE."

Nowadays when our native dramatists have to borrow so many ideas from
the French, it is refreshing to find a novelty racy of the soil. Such a novelty
Mr. Punch imagines he has discovered in the recently revealed privilege of
a Noble Lord to disregard the verdict of a County Court. 'Tis_ true the
case which brought this very satisfactory state of the law to light turns
cut to be a canard. As a matter-of-fact, no Nobleman has claimed his privi-
lege, as a Peer, to avoid the payment of his coal-bill. Mr. Punch, however,
publishes the following rough idea of the end of the Second Act of a domestic
drama, for the benefit of those it may concern hereafter:—

Scene—A scantily but elegantly-furnished apartment in the house of the Un-
known. Large Eight-day Clock in an old-fashioned case. C. Wolfhilda,
regarding it with affection, is discovered as the Curtain rises to soft and
plaintive music.

_ Wolfhilda. Strike again, trusted friend of my childhood! Let thy chimes
bring backto me the dim memories of the happy past. _ As I listen to thy
silvery music methinks I see a noble mansion crowded with retainers, humble
friends with bended knees bowing before me. (Noise without.) "What was
that ? [A heavy tread is heard on the staircase.) Intruders ! And my poor
father, weary of opening bill-containing envelopes, asleep in yonder chamber!
He must not be disturbed ! (Enter Goodheart Grab.) What would ye ?

Goodheart Grab (with feeling). Fair lady, I would not distress ye—no, not
for the wealth of the Indies-

Wolfhilda (eagerly). Then withdraw! We are poor, Sir, but proud. We
have seen better—far better—times ! (Looking at him steadily.) No, I do not
know you ! I have never seen your face before !

Goodheart Grab. Would that you had never seen it! Nay, do not start!
My heart, Madam, is in the right place, although my profession forces me into
houses where (I admit it) I am anything rather than an honoured guest!

Wolfhilda. What mean you by these strange, these sob-shaken words ?

Goodheart Grab. Oh, that I could conceal my identity! Oh, that I could
picture my life as one long act of kindness and philanthropy! Madam, I am an
officer-

Wolfhilda (haughtily). An officer should be a gentleman!

Goodheart Grab (earnestly). Ay, indeed he should!
But is it gentlemanly to take the stair-carpet from the
stair, to seize the arm-chair and the coal-scuttle ere they
can be used, to lay desecrating hands upon the tea-tray,
the foot-stool, the chandelier, and the homely but neces-
sary kettle ? Tell me is all this good, kindly—in a word,
the conduct of a man of gentle birth ?

Wolfhilda. As you put the question to me so plainly,
I confess it's not!

Goodheart Grab. And yet all this—and more—must
I do in the way of business! Oh, woe is me! Would
that I had been born to a happier lot!

[Buries his face in his hands and weeps.
Wolfhilda. And yet you say you are an officer ?
Goodheart Grab (after an effort). The officer of the
sheriff ! Nay, do not shudder and turn away from me—
ah! she has fainted! (Sadly.) Well, it is better as it
is! _ Poor girl, I will leave the sofa upon which she now
reclines until the last.

[Begins to remove the furniture.

Wolfhilda (recovering). Is this some terrible dream!
(With a shriek.) No! he is seizing the Eight-day clock!
Father, Father ! Save it!

The Unknown (entering suddenly in an enormous dress-
in g-goivn, which completely hides his costume). Hold!
(In a tone of great authority), I repeat—hold!

Goodheart Grab (fiercely). By what right do you
interfere ? Know that I have a warrant of distress. I do
but the bidding of my master. Your master, the Sheriff,
before whom all men bow! (Calmly.) And now, Sir,
who are you ?

The Unknown (haughtily). Who am I? (Throwing off
dressing-gown, and appearing in a Peer's mantle and
coronet). Why the Luke of Islington!

Goodheart Grab (sinking on his knees and removing
his old and battered hat). Your Grace! Pardon and
forgiveness ! [ Grovels in the dust.

Wolfhilda (throwing her arms around the Eight-day
clock). Saved! Saved!! Saved!!!

Tableau and Curtain.

There, the Third Act must be left to the fancy of the
dramatist himself. However, if the playwright has a
very lively imagination, he might introduce a scene in
the House of Commons in which the First Law Officer
of the Crown might be depicted defending the principle
of privilege—with success !

HOME-RULERS AT HOME.

Home-Rule, that Irish device for dismembering the
Empire, as it has hitherto been regarded by all of Her
Majesty's rational subjects, appears now all at once to
have become quite another thing. An important meeting
of Home-Rulers was held on Saturday last week, under
the presidency of Mr. Parnell, at, of all places in the
United Kingdom, the Crystal Palace, Sydenham. Mr.
Biggar and other speakers on that occasion are reported
to have advised their hearers to vote, irrespectively of
the principal political parties, at the next election, for
candidates prepared to side with Home-Rulers._ Excel-
lent counsel to give the Irish inhabitants of this Island.
For Irishmen domiciled in England, of course, Home-
Rule simply means Parliament continuing to sit at St.
Stephen's. Thank you, Mr. Biggar ; thank you, Mr.
Parnell ; and good subjects and citizens as the London
Irish, and the rest of their compatriots resident amongst
English constituencies, generally are, it is almost certain
that your admirable advice will be duly followed.

A Crop in Cyprus.

It appears from some recently published correspond-
ence that considerable offence has been given to the
Cypriotes of the Orthodox Faith by Captain Inglis, the
English Commissioner, in having, perhaps a little too
unconditionally, introduced a certain regulation of do-
mestic prison discipline into the penal economy of Cyprus.
The Captain, it seems, ordered the hair and beards of two
priests imprisoned at Famagusta, to be cut. Perhaps
this was a rather indiscriminate allotment of that truly
British institution the County Crop. By the way, the
County Crop, at any rate is a crop which will certainly
prove to have been in no wise affected by the wet
summer.

vol. lxxvlt.

IT