Punch: Punch (91.1886)

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Deoembkb 25, 1886.

SHOPPING !

Lady (at Sea-side "Emporium"). "How much are those—ah—Improvers?"
Shopman. " Improv— hem !—They 're not, Ma'am "—(confused)—" not—not the article
you require, Ma'am. They 're Fencing-Masks, Ma'am ! " [Tableau!

OUE CABD-BASKET.

"My Cards and Crackers!"—sounds like a good old mediaeval oath doesn't it? It is,
however, nothing of the kind, but simply Mr. Punch's exclamation on inspecting the contents
of his Card-Basket. Here are wondrous artistic marvels from Raphael Tuck & Co., over
which the artists have evidently tuk great pains. There are specialities from Castell
Brothers, impressed with coins, which look natural enough to spend, there are dainty
designs from Wtrths Brothers, worth anything you please. Sockl and Nathan, send
sweet, soft-scented_ satin souvenirs properly painted with pretty pictures. Prang. & Co.,
provide clever designs, some large enough for framing. Phtlipp Brothers contribute
tasteful trifles, and Davidson Brothers offer cards of endless variety. J. F. Bennet has
a speciality in the ' Visette " card, and some of a humorous nature are published by M. H.
Nathan & Co. Marcus Ward—who might be called the Cardinal of Cards—still holds his
own. Every year brings some novelty, and this season the satin-bound books will undoubtedly
prove popular. The etchings and hunting scenes from Harding will probably be in brisk

demand, so will the novelties from Misch
and Stock—the coloured views of the
Colonial Exhibition of Albert Marx,' and
the "ivorine" delights of Waiter C.
Cooke. Especial commendation should be
given to the Canadian cards of Marl-
borough, Gould & Co., and to the perfect
gallery of works of Art of every variety
contributed by Hildeshelmer & Faulkner.
For artistic merit all the cards of the Season
are astonishing, it seems a pity that the tone
of their literary excellence could not be
raised. Sparagnapane & Co. contribute to
Christmas cheerfulness by costly cosaqular
crackers, clever and curious ; and De la
Rue checks frivolity by bringing out his
Diaries of every size and Bhape, every form
and fancy. Make a present of one of the
neatest and best to the neatest and best of
her sex, and say, Shakspearianly, "Here's
De la Rue for you! "

OUR IMPERIAL COMPOSER.

(To be sung by everybody, freely, to the air
oj " Our Empress Queen'?—a stirring Song,
written by Clement Scott, and composed by
Mr. Punch's old friend, Henry—we were just
going to write Sir Henry—Russell.)

What ! He-ne-ry Russell ! My gracious!
Who sang " Cheer boys, cheer," years
ago!

I thought the announcement mendacious,

But he is immortal I Just so!
Ah! " Hush, 'tis the night watch!" I see
you

" Far, far upon the sea" of memoree ;
'' To the West, to the West!" Can it be you ?
Fresh as ever in this year of Jubilee ?
Fresh as ever, for "The Woodman's
spared the tree."

Chorus, Everybody.

What! He-ne-ry Russell ? No story.

"The Light of the days that have been,"
Aye! " Cheer, boys! " He's Btill in his
glory,

Composing Scott's song of " Our Queen."

(Symphony Music—"I see But dancing in
the hall"'—and all ioin in grand, exuberant
finale.) t. ,._

Going to the "Wall.

Lv consequence of the Royal Academy
having decided to do extra honour to the
fortunate winner of the prize for " Designs
for Mural Decoration,", the little boys out
of school-time will go in for violent com-
petition on all the walls of the Metropolis,
beginning with London Wall. Who doesn't
remember those immortal designs of " Old
Briggs," "Old BRiGGS a 'anging," which
were lightly sketched in on that popular
gentleman's house-walls ? The Academy
has taken a bold step, but it is right to
encourage Art. Let the Juvenile Etohers
beware of the Police.

Kelly's Directory for 1887 is excellent
reading for a spare half-hour. Some capital
numbers bound up together, and there's
scarcely a house mentioned without at least
one good storey to it. When is Kelly's
Jubilee ? He deserves a statue, which might
be substituted for the one of Achilles in
Hyde Park, and called " A Kelly's statue."
We are Imperialists to the backbone, but
we support the Directory. ,

Thought by an unhappy Passenger from
Folkestone to Boulogne, one night during
the recent tempestuous weather :—" The
King of Crossing-Sweepers—The Gale."