Punch: Punch (78.1880)

208

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 8, 1880.

OUR CLUB.

Member (bursting into Card-Room, 9 a.m.). “Ob, "Waiter, have you—I fancy

LAST NIGHT I MUST HAVE DROPPED A Fl’ POUND-”

Waiter. “Here it is, Sir, ’singular thing, Sir,—’see it under the
Table direc’ly I come into the Room ! ’Lucky I got here fust before
any o’ the Members, Sir ! ! ”

novel, in your genuine, easy-going, good old style of The Chronicles of Bar sell-
shire, and The Last Chronicle of Barsell, with lots of Parsons, Deans, Bishops,
and their wives and families ; that is the sort of thing ice want, and what the
public demands from your pen—I beg your pardon, 1 mean from your hand,
head, and heart.* (By the way, don’t you write with a pen ?) This, my dear
friend Tony, is what we require, preferring such a work of genius to such other
works of genius of yours as are represented, for example, by The Frying
Minister, Mow We Dye Note, Who Used his Diamonds, and others too
numerous, but not too humorous, to mention. Your terms are ours, and easy
does it. The sooner you can let us have it the better, as from the moment
the novel is announced, our doors will be besieged by anxious inquirers, and our
letter-box choke full of communications from anxious pen-and-ink-quirers,
who will waste reams of paper—“reams, idle reams!”—in bothering us to
know when you are going to begin. So, my dear Tony, let us have your answer,
and believe us (and ?ne), yours sincerely,

The Editor (Novel Co. Limited).

With less prejudice than ever.

Dear Ed. Nov. Co. Lim.,

Don’t call me “Tony.” I don t like it. Tony is only associated in
the public mind with “Lumpkin.” If you insinuate I’m a Lumpkin, all is
off between us. Retract “ Tony,” and I’m yours to command. As to your
opinion of my former or present style, I won’t take it even for what it is worth.
Keep it to yourself; I have no use for it. You want a nov.-l, on what you call
an Ecclesiastical subject. That’s the English of it, isn’t it ? Hey ? You quote
my titles incorrectly, and you omit The Churchwarden. Everyone liked The
Churchwarden ; and I think I ’ve got just the thing for your readers, or rather
for mine. How about The Beadle ? Hey ? Hasn’t that the true smack about

* This part of our correspondence reminds us curiously enough of another correspon-
dence with a similar object long ago, between the fir?t editor of the Cornhill Magazine,
Mr. \V. M. Thackeray, and one of his leading contributors, Mr. Anthony Trollope.
The former wanted a novel for the Magazine; the latter had commenced an Irish tale,
when he was “civilly told” that what was expected of him was a story thoroughly
English, and, “if possible, about Clergymen.” History repeats its situations with new
characters.

it? Hey? That’s the man for your money. The
Beadle of Small-Beer jester Bowers. Hey ? How’s
that? You say terms are all right. That’s business.
Consider it settled. I’ll do The Beadle, and throw in
a couple of Bishops and a few new dignitaries for the
money. Hey ? Don’t call me Tony again. I believe
you my hoy, and am yours bluffly,

Anthony Dollop.

With any amount of prejudice.

From Editor Novel Co. Limited to Novelist.

Dear Anthony with an “ H,”

I retract “ Tony,” and. so all is on again be-
tween us. Hot only believe me, but believe The Com-
pany Limited, which I represent, and which deals with
you for this work of art (by my advice mind) that is to
astonish England, Europe, and the world. Let us have
the first instalment of The Beadle—it is to be The
Beadle is it not?—as soon as possible, so that I may
fairly announce it together with the correspondence
which, of course, you have no objection to my publish-
ing. Don’t forget the Bishops, and the “few new
dignitaries,” and, if possible, make one of ’em an Arch-
bishop. Don’t omit the female element of the ecclesias-
tical life. Thoroughly English. You know how to do
the trick. I am, or we are,

Yours most sincerely,

The Editor.

Without prejudice—except in your favour.

{From Novelist to Editor.)

Dear Editor,

With compliments. I don’t approve of “doing
the trick.” I’m always prejudiced—in favour of honesty,
truth, and justice. Every Englishman ought to be.
Oughtn’t he, eh ? I refer you to my novel The Church-
warden ; or. Put that in your Pipe and Smoke It ? Not
read it ? Get it. In haste. Yours

’ A. D., 1880.

Au Public.—A letter from Mr. Anthony Dollop
protesting against the publication of the correspondence
arrived, we deeply regret to say, too late to be of any
use. In compliance, however, with the eminent Nove-
list’s request, we at once retract as far as it is possible
to do so, the whole of the correspondence in question,
which we have only published in view of any difficulties
that might subsequently arise between the high con-
tracting parties.

In conclusion we, on behalf of the Novel Company;
Limited, beg to announce the appearance in our next of
an entirely new and original novel entitled

THE BEADLE!

OR,

THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTEE.

BY

ANTHONY DOLLOP.

Author of “ The Chronicles of Barsellshire,” “ Beerjester
Brewers,” “ The Halfway House at Aleinton,"
“ Thorley Farm for Cattle“ Family Parsonage,”
“The Prying Minister,” “Pearls Before Siuine,
or, Who Used His Diamonds ? ” “Hub the Hair,’1
“ The Way We Dye Now,” “Fishy Fin,” “ Fishy as
Wildux,” “Dr. Thorne and David James,” “Star
and Garter, Richmond,” “ Rachel Hooray ! ” “The
Jellies of Jelly,” “ The Bertrams and Roberts,”

“Lady Pye-Anna,” “Tails of„All Creatures,”

“ 'Arry ’Otspur“Mary Greasily,” “ Vicar of
Pullbaker,” “ McDermott of Balladsingerun,”

“ Can't You Forget Herf ” “He Knew He Could
Write,” Sfc., fc.

A Discovery.

We read in the Times —

“ Some documents seized at Barcelona show the existence of
a considerable quantity of forged Spanish Bonds, believed to
have the same origin as those detected some time ago on the
Paris Bourse.”

Spanish Bonds, then, are really worth something—
they are worth forging !