Punch: Punch (82.1882)

118

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[March 11, 1882.

THE ROYAL ST. JAMES’S
PALACE MINSTRELS.

The Meeting was most suc-
cessful Wlidt ’s ttie next
step -takenof coursetomusic?
The notes seem to be coming
in from all quar'ers. H.R.H.
The Prince of Wales was an
admirable conductor, and the
Huke of Edihbtjiigh a tirst-
rate clief d'attaque.

The PitEMiER and Sir Stae-
pord Northcote were in pn'-
fect harmony, botli telling
some capitai stories about
music in the olden time, and
setting the room in a roar, as
such good “ comer men ” are
hound to do The Archbish p
of Cahteebdry and Lord
Roseber? performed jvery
etfective solos; and if Car-
dinal Mahhihg did not ohlige
the company with a Grego-
rian, it was not because there
was no opera-tunity for him,
but because there was no iime;
and _ so he with some other
leading composers (both Plis
Eminence aud the Archhishop
compose—their own sermons,
which have a most soothing
effeet) joined most heartily in
a grand unison chorus, by
way of a vote of thanks to the
Prince, who has so energeti-
cally taken up the cause of
music in this country. Three
cheers for the three Princes,
and success to the Royal Col-
lege of Music!

“I couldn’t see the gen-
tleman when he called,” ex-
plained Mrs. Ram. “ He
came so early, that I was
only, as the French say, onq
Jezebel.”

PUNCH'S FANCY PORTRAITS.-NO- 74.

“AFTER DARK”
THOIJGHTS.

For Fedestrians on the Tharnes-
Fmbankment.

How peaceful is the seene ?'
Is that a shadow of a man
hiding ? Of two men ? * * *
How smooth is the water ?
Sure I heard a footstep hehind
me. Shall I have to take the
rough with the smooth? Wish
I could see a policeman.
Wish a policeman could see
me. Was that a cry for
help ?—No—a cat. Ah' if t h e
Magistrates would only give
these Emhankment lioughs
plenty of the Cat. * * * *
What was that? * * * * Wish
I hadn’t read that article on
the “ London Morgues ” in
the Pull Mall last Thursday.
No cahs ? No police ? Eor-
tunately, I’ve left my money
and watch at home. But—
tliey don't knoiv tliat. Ha!’
what ’s that ? * * * * No—
yes. * * * * Tliank good-
ness—the street at last! Beau-
tiful place, the Embankment,
to show to a foreigner at
night, as one of the Sights of
London unequalled by any-
thing on the Continent!

SIR WILFRID LAWSON, Bart., M.P.

A most effective Wateb-Spoutee.

Parliamentary Proverbs.

Never do to-day what can
possibly be put off till to-
morrow.

A tax in the hand is worth
two in the bush.

A remark a day is a speech
a year.

Where the cry is great the
wool is small.

When Supply comes in at
the door, Legislation flies out
of the window.

LAYS OF A LAZY MINSTREL.

A DISSOLVING VIEW.

No! lamtoosadtosing.* Iwillhangmyharpuponthehat-pegancl
I will shed salt tears o’er the Diving-Bell. The friends of my youth
are gone ; the Surrey Zoological is bricks and mortar ; Cremorne is a
respectable building-site; Jumho is Barnum’d; the tank at the Royal
Polytechnic Institution is dry, the Diver is dead, and the Bell is sold.
And ye ask me to sing! Go to, my Brethren, or go three, or go four
—it is all one to me. I'will weep, I will mourn, I will howl and he
exceeding sad, for the abode of Science of my youth is no more.
The clissolving-views have dissolvecl for ever, the merry chromatrope
whirleth not, and the oxy-hydrogen microscope has retired from
business. A garish daylight has heen let into the theatre _where
young maidens wore the arms of yoimg men rouncl their waists, in
the dark, years agone, and muddy-booted miscreants penetrate the
hidden mysteries of the laboratory. The vacanfflaugh of the scoffer
is heard where George Grossmith warhled, and where Pepper’s
Ghost perambulated.

Go on, Messrs. Rushworth, Abbott and Stevehs ! It douhtless
takes three of you to do this fearful work. I can bear it, I have nerved
myself to the task. I will endure it to the bitter end. I will stay
here throughout the three days’ sale, nor will I depart hence until
the nethermost of the six hundred and eighty-nine lots have heen
disposed of. Everyone is touched like myself, and everyone is
anxious to hring away some. little reminiscence of this great and
glorious Institution. The Centrifugal Railway was’ bought hy the
Lord Mayor ; sixty-six large Leyden Jars by Mr. Bradlaugh ;
the Cast-Iron Diving-Bell hy Mrs. Largtry, to form a portable
summer-house for her ensuing tour—of course she would he the one

* Ob., come ! Ve didn’t ask aminstrel to -write prose. 11 Lay on Macduff! ”

-—but we hope he won’t. niisunderstand the quotation, as we do not mean that
we expect him to give us a lay on Macduff.—Ed.

to “hear away the belle: ” “ eight rolls of leather hands” hy the
Bishop of London, for distrihution among the hard-working clergy-
men of his diocese ; the “ skilfully made mechanical life-size figure,
Leotard,” by Mr. Sclater, to take the place of Jumbo at the
Zoo ; “ a capital 4-horse power double-cylinder expansive condensing
steam-engine,” hy Mr. W. S. Gilbert, for his forthcoming operetta
(the new steam-music by Dr. Sullivah will cause, I am told, a great
sensation); “a mahogany; case, containing six Twaddell’s hydro-
meters,” by the Lazy Minstrel; “a set of seance apparatus ” by
Mr. Gladstone and “ a clever model of a round of roast beef, under
a glass shade,”by Mr. Arthur Cecil. “Alarge glass plate elec-
trical machine, glass 7 feet in diameter,” was purchased hy Messrs.
Comyxs Carr and Pixero, to take aleading part in their new drama
of The Spark ; “ a ‘ rain ’ box, a ‘ wind ’ machine, a ‘ crash ’ ditto, a
‘drum’ ditto, with stand, a sheet of iron for thunder, and a bell,”
by the Middlesex Magistrates.

My tears fall thick and fast. I lose all count of tirne, I soar
backwarcls in the illimitable realms of retrospection. 0 Rush-
worth ! 0 Abbott ! 0 Stevekts ! ye have done your hendish work
but too weR! The last lot, “a patent bottling-machine, with
earthenware pan, 2 plaster husts, and 1 inlaid loo-table,” is knocked
down. The raucous hrokers’ men and the irreverent auctioneers’
clerks are departing. A policeman informs me they are going to
shut up the place, and I must not sit in the tank any longer.

And this is the boasted age of Science and Enlightenment! Carry
me out into the moonheams Let me take my afternoon crawl in
the Solar System! Let me weep *_**_*

\_The rest of the manuscript is blistered with tears, and qmte
illegible.

Sir E. Watkix is going for a Channel Tunnel, not for a sea-side
Pier-age. If his under-the-sea scheme comes to the ground, how
will the title of Barren Channel Tunnel suit him ? He ’s perfectly
welcome to it.