Punch (100.1891)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 3, 1891.

After the "Word. Among the Audience.

General Murmur. "What can it be ? Not Turk, I suppose, or
Magician ?— Ouarrelling ?—Parnellite ?—Impertinence ? Shall we
give it up ? No, they like us to guess, poor things ; and besides, if
we don't, they'll do another; and it is getting so late, and such a
long drive home. Oh, they 're all coming back; then it is over. No,
indeed, we can't imagine. '" Familiar.''" To be sure—how clever,
and how well you all acted it, to be sure—you must be quite tired
after it all. Iam sure we—hem—are deeply indebted to you. . . .
My dear Miss Rose, how wonderfully you disguised yourself. I
never recognised you a bit, nor you, Mr. Nightingale. "What part
did you take ?

Mr. Nightingale. I—er—didn't take any particular part—wasn't
wanted, you know.

Miss Rose. Not to act,—so we stayed outside and—and—arranged
things.

An Old Lady. Indeed ? Then you had all the hard work, and none
of the pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid.

Miss Rose {siveetly). Oh no. I mean yes!—but we didn't mind it
much.

The 0. L. And which of you settled what the Word was to be ?
Mr. N. Well, I believe we settled that together.

[ Carriages are announced; departure of guests who are not of
the house-party. In the Smoking-room, Mr. Pushington
discovers that he does not seem exactly popular tcith the
other men, and puts it down to jealousy.

ROBERT'S XMAS BANKWET.

We held our annywal Crismus Bankwet larst Satterday. Our
principel Toast of course was, "Success to the Grand Old Cop-
perashun, and may it nurrish for ewer! " with 3 times 3, and one

cheer more for the bewtifool Lady Maress,
and may she flurrish for ewer too! Ah,
we Waiters is a gallarnt race and knows
our dooty to the fairer and weaker sects
quite as well as ewen. Aldermen their-
selves. I next perposed the City Livvery
Compnys, in a speech, as Brown said, as
ort for to be printed and sircculated. I
had serttenly given a good deal of atention
to it, and praps shood have dun ewen
better if I hadn't quite forgot ewery word
of the werry last part, which, unfortnitly,
was all about the lots of money as they
gives away. But I remembred all about
their luvly dinners, and that was naterally more intresting to my
hordience. I was werry much pressed to say which, in my opinion,
of all the Nobel Livvery Cumpnys guv the most nobly scrumpshus
Dinners of 'em all, but I declined, on the ground that it wood nate-
rally cause a most enormous emount of gelosy, and was of too deli-
cat and xquisit a natur to be thus publicly discussed. There was
werry considerabel diffrens of opinion about their warious choice
wines, but all agreed in praising them werry hily, but ewen more,
the trew libberality with which they was served, and not poured
out so close as to make the pore Waiter's dooty a thirsty and
tanterlising one indeed.

We drank the Nobel Army of Hotel Keepers, most serttenly not
forgettin the gentlemanly Manager of the truly " Grand," as ewery-
body knows as is anybody, and drank to their great success, for
werry ewident reesons.

Young Frank returned thanks for the Ladies, and, with all the
reckless ordassity of a young feller of forty, was rash enuff to say,
as how as he werrily believed, that if the prinsiple Hotel Keepers was
to hintroduce pretty Gals as Waiters, all us old Fogys, as he rudely
called us, woud have to go and git our seweral livings in a more
manly employment! Of course boys will be boys, so we kindly
forgave him, more specially as he stands six foot one in his
stockings, let alone his boots. However he made up for his bad
manners by singing with his capital voice, his new Song of " Old
Robert the Waiter," being a rayther complementary Parody, as he
called it, upon "Old Simon the Cellerer," which was receeved with
emense aplause. So he gave, as an arnoore, the Waiter's favrite
Glee of " Mynear Van Dunk," with its fine conwincing moral against
Teetotaling and all such cold rubbish.

Brown; wound up the armony of our truly appy heavening by
singing his new song of, " The Lord Mare leads a nappy life," and
we sort our seweral nupshal couches as happy and contented a lot as
hi 8 Lordship hisself, our werry larst drink all round being to the
follering sentiment given out by me as the prowd Chairman : " May
all the well to do in this grand old London of ours enjoy as merry a
Crismus as we have enjoyed to-night, and may they all give a kind
thort, and a liberal stump-up, to all the poor and needy who so badly
wants it this bitter weather." Robert.

OUE BOOKING-OFFICE.

Mr. Jerome K. Jerome, or, more'easily pronounced, "Mr. Jertjmky
Jerum," is occasionally very amusing in his book for Christmastide,
entitled Told After Supper. "What he wants, that is, what he
ought to have whether he
wants it or not, is judicious
editing. Had this process ■
been applied to this eccen-
trie haphazardy book, W
scarcely more than a third ||
of it would have been pub-
lished. "His style, in this
book at least, and, for my
part," says the Baron, "I
say the same of his Three
Men in a Tub, suggests the
idea of his writing being

the work of a young man „ „,, „ „ ""^T C' <■ t " t-„ n_„

who, among his companions ToU d after su^er- .subject for a kneuegy
and admirers, has earned the reputation of being a ' deuced funny
chap,' and so has to struggle to live up to this reputation, or to live
it down." Jertjmky Jerum still somewhat affects Yankee humour,
not, however, in so forced and vulgar a manner as in his over-
praised Three Men in a Boat. Two of the Ghost Stories are
humorous, but their setting is unworthy of them. Had they been
introduced into a tale as Dickens (of whose style there is a very
palpable attempt at imitation in the description of a stormy winter's
night) brought in his story of Tom Smart, and of the inimitable
Gabriel Grub, their mirth-raising value would have been c ^sider-
ably enhanced. As it is, these choice morsels—sandwiv^ d in
between heavy slabs of doughy material—stand a chance of not
being tasted. To anyone who comes across the book the Baron says,
"read about the Curate and the Card-trick, and Johnson and
Emily. The tinted paper on which it is printed is a mistake, as
are also most of the amateurish illustrations."

Woman—not " lovely woman " who " stoops to folly "—nor woman
who in our hour of ease is uncertain, coy, and hard to please. But
Woman, the weekly Woman who is doing uncommonly well and
in her fifty-third number, gave the week before Christmas, her idea
of a Christmas dinner, and, but for " sweetbread cutlets," a very
good and simple dinner it was. The same Woman gave also, among
a variety of next-day's treatments of Turkey, Turkey in Aspic.
Turkey in Europe, and Turkey in Asia—yes—but what about
" Turkey in Aspic " ? It doesn't look well; much better in French.
But we dare say it's very good, though, for breakfast or supper,
" devilled Turkey " is " hard to beat."

I have been trying to read Leigh Hunt. His Biography inte-
rested me muchly, and I had always heard, in time past, so much of his

writings, though I do not
remember ever having heard
the titles of his works men-
tioned, that, when a neat-
looking volume was sent me
by Messrs. Paterson & Co.
of Leigh Hunt's Tales, I
anticipated great pleasure
from their perusal. Alas !
the pleasure was only_ in
anticipation. I have tried,
as the song says, "A little
bit here, and a little bit
Goblins. there— Here a bit,

There a bit, And every-
where a bit,"—but, hang me, says the Baron, if I can tackle any
one of them. The matter doesn't interest me, and the style doesn't
fascinate me. This may be rank heresy, but I can't help it. I
have tried, and failed. Well, better to have tried, and failed, than
never to have tried at all. But I shan't try again,—at least, not
on this collection of Tales. Baron de Book-Worms.

Pars about Pictures.—A good collection of pictures and sculp-
ture—including works by Messrs. Burne-Jones, Onslow Ford,
Alfred Gilbert, W. L. Wyllie, and others—is on view at the
Royal Arcade Gallery, Old Bond Street. These are to be sold for
the benefit of the family of R. A. Ledward, the clever young
sculptor, who died only a few weeks ago. Lots more to say, but
you won't stand it, and will probably say, " Par! si bete! " So no
more at present from yours par-entally, Old Par.

Legal and Ecclesiastical Definition.—A Sheriff's Officer: a
"Writ-ualist.