DOI Heft:
January 10, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17763#0013
AT SEA ON SHORE.
Post Captain (Commanding Naval Brigade at exercise under the Admiral's eye, to Middy acting as Galloper.). “Don’t cross the
Admiral’s Bows, Youngster ! Go under his Stern, can’t you ! ! ! ’'
locker, “ never to go again”—like the Grandfather’s Clock (has it
stopped at last f)—at least, not as “the mutinous mate,” but as
the King of Comic Song Island.
Miss Kate Vaughan, as Pretty Poll of Portsmouth, dances her
best, and that’s saying not only much hut everything; while Miss
Nellie Darren, Lemuel Gulliver, of course, is livelier than ever,
and that’s vouching for a good deal. In the earlier part the songs,
duetts, trios, and quartettes, by the talented combination of Miles.
Vaughan and Farren, and Messrs. Terry and Royce, are per-
petually redemanded; and the song in the Brobdingnagian Cornfield is
capitally written, excellently sung, and heartily encored, till there’s
not a verse of it left to sing. Miss Wadman sings charmingly the
solo part of one of the most graceful numbers in the whole piece;
and Miss Louis freshens us up with a taste of her spirit—she
is the Spirit of Christmas Cheer—just at the very end of the
performance.
The Scenery, by Messrs. Lloyds (he’s only one jierson, though
in the plural, hut quite equal to two), Perkins (with all the
strength of Barclay in him), Hann (Brother Hann, not “Sister
Hann ”), Grieve & Son—and the son can never make his father
Grieve—is good from first to last. But the last—the very, very last
—An Allegorical Tableau of the Golden Age, is by Mr. Beverley,
and reminds me of the time when Madame Vestris played The
King of the Peacocks, and The Island of Jewels—both, of course,
by Mr. T. R. Planche—bless him ad multos annos !■—and when all
London crowded to the Lyceum to see the Christmas Extravaganza,
and when the Last Scene, for which everyone stopped—as they do
now most respectfully, on being so requested to do, at some of the
Comedy Theatres—was the Scenic Artist’s chef d'oeuvre of the year,
and became the talk of the town, and that chef d'oeuvre was by
the same cunning hand that has painted The Golden Age of the
Gaiety Gulliver, Mr. W. Beverley, as aforesaid. I only wished to
see The King of the Peacocks glide forward from the centre, and I
should have been a good little hoy again, like Mr. Royce, in the
Opening Scene.
Then there’s the Flying Ballet, and the Review of the Lilliputian
Army by Queen Mite of Lilliput—where Mite is Plight—and she is
the dearest little Mite, and the most unselfconscious.. But space
will not permit me to say more ; and everyone can see it in bits, or
at one sitting, for themselves. So walk up, walk up, and see the
show! This is, as the Prizefighters say, the end of the First Round ;
and next week I will come up smiling, ready for another : till when
I am Your faithful
Representative.
P.S.—A propos of theatrical notabilities, the funniest, if not the
best likenesses I have yet seen of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry as
Shylock and Portia, are by M. Pilotell, in the latest number of
Sketch. Its new Editor bears a name dear to all connected with Punch,
who, I am sure, for our late Chief’s sake, will join with me in
wishing success to Mr. Reginald Shirley Brooks.
Wiring into the Cape.
The Queen may mark the inauguration of the Submarine Cable
to the Cape by exchange of messages with such living Potentates as
the Sultan of Zanzibar, Sir Bartle Frere, and Sir Garnet Wolsey.
Punch, more favoured, is privileged to communicate with the Cape’s
great Discoverer.
The Ghost of Vasco de Gama wires to 85, Fleet Street, from
the Anglo-Dutch Elysian Fields, under the shadow of Table
Mountain
“ To Great Britain, binding her not by Red-tape,
I am glad, that like me, you have doubled the Cape;
Made her strength twice as strong, and her hope twice as stable,
Linked, and anchored, at once, by the Submarine Cable ! ”
Tightness without Tipple.
We are warned to “prepare for a tight money-market in the
spring.” But how are we to prepare? Whatever Sir Wilfrid
Lawson and the United Kingdom Alliance may. say, there is no pre-
venting tightness of that sort, either by Prohibitory Bill or Local
Option.
By Hights.
{See the Pall Mall, Morning Post, and Daily Telegraph,passim.)
If the Borussia late a wreck we’ve seen,
So that Bore-Russia should long since have been!
Post Captain (Commanding Naval Brigade at exercise under the Admiral's eye, to Middy acting as Galloper.). “Don’t cross the
Admiral’s Bows, Youngster ! Go under his Stern, can’t you ! ! ! ’'
locker, “ never to go again”—like the Grandfather’s Clock (has it
stopped at last f)—at least, not as “the mutinous mate,” but as
the King of Comic Song Island.
Miss Kate Vaughan, as Pretty Poll of Portsmouth, dances her
best, and that’s saying not only much hut everything; while Miss
Nellie Darren, Lemuel Gulliver, of course, is livelier than ever,
and that’s vouching for a good deal. In the earlier part the songs,
duetts, trios, and quartettes, by the talented combination of Miles.
Vaughan and Farren, and Messrs. Terry and Royce, are per-
petually redemanded; and the song in the Brobdingnagian Cornfield is
capitally written, excellently sung, and heartily encored, till there’s
not a verse of it left to sing. Miss Wadman sings charmingly the
solo part of one of the most graceful numbers in the whole piece;
and Miss Louis freshens us up with a taste of her spirit—she
is the Spirit of Christmas Cheer—just at the very end of the
performance.
The Scenery, by Messrs. Lloyds (he’s only one jierson, though
in the plural, hut quite equal to two), Perkins (with all the
strength of Barclay in him), Hann (Brother Hann, not “Sister
Hann ”), Grieve & Son—and the son can never make his father
Grieve—is good from first to last. But the last—the very, very last
—An Allegorical Tableau of the Golden Age, is by Mr. Beverley,
and reminds me of the time when Madame Vestris played The
King of the Peacocks, and The Island of Jewels—both, of course,
by Mr. T. R. Planche—bless him ad multos annos !■—and when all
London crowded to the Lyceum to see the Christmas Extravaganza,
and when the Last Scene, for which everyone stopped—as they do
now most respectfully, on being so requested to do, at some of the
Comedy Theatres—was the Scenic Artist’s chef d'oeuvre of the year,
and became the talk of the town, and that chef d'oeuvre was by
the same cunning hand that has painted The Golden Age of the
Gaiety Gulliver, Mr. W. Beverley, as aforesaid. I only wished to
see The King of the Peacocks glide forward from the centre, and I
should have been a good little hoy again, like Mr. Royce, in the
Opening Scene.
Then there’s the Flying Ballet, and the Review of the Lilliputian
Army by Queen Mite of Lilliput—where Mite is Plight—and she is
the dearest little Mite, and the most unselfconscious.. But space
will not permit me to say more ; and everyone can see it in bits, or
at one sitting, for themselves. So walk up, walk up, and see the
show! This is, as the Prizefighters say, the end of the First Round ;
and next week I will come up smiling, ready for another : till when
I am Your faithful
Representative.
P.S.—A propos of theatrical notabilities, the funniest, if not the
best likenesses I have yet seen of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry as
Shylock and Portia, are by M. Pilotell, in the latest number of
Sketch. Its new Editor bears a name dear to all connected with Punch,
who, I am sure, for our late Chief’s sake, will join with me in
wishing success to Mr. Reginald Shirley Brooks.
Wiring into the Cape.
The Queen may mark the inauguration of the Submarine Cable
to the Cape by exchange of messages with such living Potentates as
the Sultan of Zanzibar, Sir Bartle Frere, and Sir Garnet Wolsey.
Punch, more favoured, is privileged to communicate with the Cape’s
great Discoverer.
The Ghost of Vasco de Gama wires to 85, Fleet Street, from
the Anglo-Dutch Elysian Fields, under the shadow of Table
Mountain
“ To Great Britain, binding her not by Red-tape,
I am glad, that like me, you have doubled the Cape;
Made her strength twice as strong, and her hope twice as stable,
Linked, and anchored, at once, by the Submarine Cable ! ”
Tightness without Tipple.
We are warned to “prepare for a tight money-market in the
spring.” But how are we to prepare? Whatever Sir Wilfrid
Lawson and the United Kingdom Alliance may. say, there is no pre-
venting tightness of that sort, either by Prohibitory Bill or Local
Option.
By Hights.
{See the Pall Mall, Morning Post, and Daily Telegraph,passim.)
If the Borussia late a wreck we’ve seen,
So that Bore-Russia should long since have been!