Punch (90.1886)

108 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 27, 1886.

Lobby long unknown. Always bustling about, book in band jotting
down unutterable things.

"Worst of it is," saysLEVESON-GowER, "thatwe don't know every-
body yet. Gladstone cannot elaborate Irish policy in three days,
neither can we learn to know all the new
Men in same time. Constantly stopping
Conservatives at the door, and letting our
own fellows walk out. Yesterday, Bobby,
using all his winning art, induced three
fellows to stay in the House to dinner.
When division came, they voted against us.
They were Conservatives, and only for
Bobby would have been away dining."

Bobby rather down in the mouth, to-
night. Thought this little affair weighed
on his mind. Told him to cheer up. Such
accidents always happen at the meeting of
new Parliament.

"Oh, it's not that," said our Parlia-
mentary Groom-in-Waiting. " Worse
than that. What do you think one of those
New Members said to me. ' Sure, you '11 be
glad when the nights get a little warmer,
Mr. Spencer,' says be. ' What for ?' says
I. ' Well,' he says, ' it must be cold wait-
ing out in the Yard to hold Members'
horses;' and he was quite serious too."
And Bobby, who since he became Parlia-
mentary Groom has tightened his trousers
about the knees and worked in another
_ eighth of an inch in the height of his
The Hon C E Spencer c°llar! dashed violently after a Conserva-
Groom'-m'-Vaiting. ' five who was leaving the House.

Have you paired r 1 heard him say,
producing his note-book, with a smile and a little bow, as if he were
asking for "the pleasure of the next dance," and all unawares that
he was entertaining an enemy.

Quiet evening in Committee of Supply. John Morley bewitched
Parnellites, who studiously refrained from embarrassing business.
Peter Badlands and Sir George Baleour, seizing opportunity,
rushed in, and we had quite an old-times sitting with the Estimates.
Business done.—Supply.

THE SAVOYARDS.

For the lever du rideau at the Savoy there is one of the prettiest
woodland scenes ever placed on a stage. It is caUed The Carp, and

of course, as Mr. Wagstaef
immediately observed,
gives occasion to carping
critics. It is not worth
seeing twice: wo cannot
say da capo to the Carp.
Alfred Deleter's music
is pretty. It reminded me
of some very elegant Ger-
man-Reed piece in the old
Gallery of Illustration,
only with the fun left out.
However, all the fun comes
later on, in the Second
Act of the Mikado, when
Messrs. Barrington,
Grossmith, and the Ladies,
Leonora Braham, Jessie
Bond, and Sybil Grey,
rollick all over the place,
and revel in the " comic
business " of the Scene. I
don't remember so much
"Funny Japs." whacking in any piece

. since the last time I saw

Mr. Ioole in Ici on parle Francais, when he and the Major (I think
it is a Major—there generally used to be a Major in those old-
fashioned farces) sit down together, and he and Spriggtns go through
a sharp course of slapping which used to convulse the audience.
The musical acrobats of the Savoy are perfectly riotous in their
dances and slap-banging, the audience is enraptured, and " The
Flowers that Bloom in the Spring, Tra la," is given, by request,
about five times, with a fresh set of steps, movements, 'leaps, and
bounds to every encore. I don't know whether Mr. Grossmith can
take his whack, but he can certainlv give it, and the way in which
he puts lus hand to the Bond—Miss Jessie Bond—is 'fun to the
audience, and I hope it is so also to the charming little Miss Jessie,
who is " one of the Lifea and Souls " of the Opera. Blunt Njubs.

WAIT TILL THE CROWDS ROLL BY!,1
The Song of Scotland Yard. Monday, Feb. 8, 1886.

Am—" Wait till the Clouds roll by !"

Bobby, my own Blue Peeler,
The Mob's gone mad, I see.

Rushing like wind-lashcd billows,
Smashing up propertee.

How they will miss us, my Bobby,
There where the row is raging
high ;

Bobby, my own Blue Peeler,
Wait till the Crowds roU by!

Chorus.

Wait till the Crowds rollby, Bobby.
You've no commands, no more
have I.

Bobby, my own Blue Peeler,
Wait till the Crowds roll by!

Bobby, wo 're far from ready,
Scotland Yard's fast asleep;

Here we are out of danger,
Here we had better keep.

How can we help the row, my
Bobby ?

Take then my tip, and do notary.

Bobby, my own Blue Peeler,
Wait till the Crowds roll by !

Chorus.

Wait till the Crowds roll by,
Bobby, &c.

Bobby, .a wooden image,

Garbed in official blue,
Would be about as useful

Truly as I or you.
Don't go a-blushing now, my
Bobby,

That we from duty so should fly.
Bobby, my own Blue Peeler,
Wait till the Crowds roll by !J

Chorus.

Wait till the Crowds rollby, Bobby.
We'U to-morroio raise the hue
and cry.

But for to-day the Colonel's tip
is—

Wait till the Crowds roll by!

THE INDIGNANT DUCHESS.

The Post of Mistress of the Robes was respectfully declined by the
Duchess of Roxburghe, because the Duke was unable to support Mr.
Gladstone's Irish policy. At first sight, this seems an odd sort of
reason for the refusal of the Duchess to accept Her Majesty's office.
If the Robes were kept in the Queen's-Cabinet, then as Mr. Glad-
stone is in the Cabinet, we can perfectly understand the Duchess's
difficulty. So far, so good; but the next question is, what is the
Irish policy that Mr. Gladstone has adopted, and which the Duke
cannot support ? Who knows P Will the Duke inform us ? Can
Mr. Gladstone teU us? We doubt it. Yery well: then if the
Robes are not kept in the Cabinet, and if Mr. Gladstone has no
policy, the Duchess of Roxburghe may, after all, reconsider her
decision, and undertake the important office of guarding the state
velvets from the incursion of the moths.

Not Mr. Gladstone's Motto—Litera scripta manet. On the
contrary, it would be better, perhaps, if a lot of them did remain, and
were never posted. _

Some one who had never heard of Lord de Yesci writes to say,
that as it's an Irish title, " Vesci" is probably only another way of
spelling " Whiskey."_

An Uncertificated Bankrupt being asked where he would like to
live, replied, "Anywhere, if it's only Out-of-Deptford."

The One Man who is always ready for every Post.—Mr.
Gladstone.

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