Punch (100.1891)

January 10, 1891.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

21

THE COMPOSER COMING.

We are looking forward to Ivanhoe, by
Sir Abthue S. Sullivan, Mus. Doc.
From what our Musical Critic has seen
of the score, he is able to wink his eye
wisely but not too well, and to hint that
as Mr. Guppy says, " There are chords " ;
and to make these chords in combination,
the strings are admirably fitted. There
is one chord (will it be recognised as

belonging to Box f) which- But, as

Sir Arthttr says, ''Where will be the
surprise, if your Musical Critic tells
everything beforehand?" He is right,
quite right, and, thank goodness, he is

i

quite well, and not

"B7Ive an hoe," by Sir
but the Composer is in the playfullest of Arthur Sullivan,
humours, and laughs over his recent row

in fact, he was

in such good spirits, that, when I
wanted to hear all about it, and I
told him he could either sing it or
play it to me, he replied, " Tou

!" Exactly like

.Mus Doc.

neither of these two
" ^I is. How-

ever, 1 'm not offended, as I said to him, or rather said and sang to

him, by way of reply. —Q-—-----

My Name 's f\ [ - *--> and So it is.

A SEMI-OFFICIAL INTRODUCTION.

[Berry was introduced in a semi-official way, and at once said, "Good
morning, Ma'am."—See Daily Papers on Mrs. Pearcy's execution.']

King Death has a great Ambassador who journeys through all the
land,

With a cap, and a strap, and a slip-noosed rope all ready to his hand.
He '8 a genial man with a joke for all, and a smile on his jovial face,
And a grip of the hand that is frank and free when he comes to the
trysting place.

And, oh, when the gloomy winter night is fading into the day,
He comes to the cell and is introduced in a semi-official way ;
With a jolly " Good morning, Ma'am," he comes, and as quick as a
morning dream

He has corded his living parcel and flung it across the stream.

The stream flows silently onward, and the flood seems deep and strong,
And some of us pause on the hither-bank slow-footed, and linger long.
But early or late we must plunge in and battle across the tide,
Though the beckoning shapes look dark and grim that wait on the
farther side.

Bat they whom the King's Ambassador, or ever their race be run,
Has summoned, must leave at the moment the sig-ht of the friendly sun.
He's a kindly man, with a cheerful voice, but he never brooks delay
When once he has come and been introduced in a semi-official way.

And, ah, how lightly the minutes fly, that once seemed heavy as lead,
And the sleeper is fitfully tossing, alone on her prison bed. [toll,
At the hour of eight must the journey be, when the passing bell doth
And Cod, it may be, who is merciful, will pity a sinful soul, [gate,
'Arise," they say, " for you know full well who waits at the outer
With sheriffs to do his bidding, behold he is come in state.
The time is short, and the minutes fly, but ere we forget it, stay,
We must introduce the Ambassador in a semi-official way."

Polite Judgment.—A correspondence has been going on in the
St. James'8 Gazette as to what six Gentlemen seated in a first class
railway carriage ought to do if a Lady insists on thrusting herself
upon them. Truth says, let her stand, unless she has been invited,
and adds, that anyhow she, as an extra person, is a nuisance.
Mr. Punch agrees with a difference, and says that the uninvited
intruder who becomes a standing nuisance ought to be put down-
by somebody giving her a seat.

COMPENSATION.

(Soliloquy of Smelfungus whilst looking at the Pictorial Papers.)

Yes, it's an ill-wind that blows nobody good,

Discomfort could hardly be greater,
For home-staying fogies of mollyish mood,

But think of the joy of the Skater !
Gr-r-r-r-! Nose-nipped antiquity squirms in the street,

When the North-Easter sounds its fierce slogan ;
But oh, the warm flush and the ecstasy fleet

Of the fellow who rides a toboggan !
Fish Smart's on the job in the ice-covered fens,

And at Hampstead and Highgate they 're " sleighing."
There is plenty of stuff for pictorial pens,

And boyhood at snowballs is playing.
To sit by the fire and to grumble and croak

At " young fools," I presume is improper,
Yet [chuckle !) the Skater sometimes has a " soak,"

The Sleigher sometimes comes a cropper ! [ Left sniggering.

LOST IN THE MIST OF AGES.

{Extractsfrom a Critique on an Exhibition to succeed the Guelphian,

m 19—.)

No. 76. Portrait of a Warrior. This picture is described in the
Catalogue as the Duke of Wellington, who, it will be remembered,
won, in the early part of the last century, the Battle of Waterloo,
and invented a new kind of boots. The face is adorned with long
black whiskers and moustaches, and an eyeglass not unlike the tra-
ditional portrait of the great W. E. Gladstone, Second Earl of
Beaconseield, as depicted by a now nearly forgotten artist, called

DCNDBEABY SoTHEBN, Or SOTHEEN DutfDBEARY. The Duke (if,

indeed, it be the Duke) is wearing the uniform of the 3rd Middlesex
Artillery Volunteers, a corps that was raised some ten years after
His Grace's death, a fact that would argue that the painting was
either a posthumous work, or intended to represent someone else.
Accepting the alternative suggestion, the picture may hand down to
posterity the features of Bureett Coutts (husband of the Baroness
of that name), j. L. Toole, the popular Comedian, Henry Ieving
(his friend), the Rev. C. H, Spubgeon, or (and this is the most
likely hypothesis) Prince Geobge of Wales.

No. 102. Miniature of a Lady Unknown. It is impossible at this
lapse of time to identify the original of this portrait. No doubt she
belonged to a short-lived and somewhat degraded class known as
"professional beauties." In one hand she holds an instrument
called an opera-glass, which was used in the last century at trials
for murder at the Old Bailey. The hair she wears on her head is
evidently false, and has been supplied from Borne foreign peasantry.
Her hat is adorned with a stuffed bird, suggestive of the cruelty of
her nature. As she holds in her other hand a book labelled, " The
Art of Nursing," it may be conjectured that she is a frequent
visitor to the Dissecting-Room, or the Accident Ward of a London
Hospital. On the whole, perhaps, it is fortunate that her name has
not been preserved by succeeding generations. She must, indeed,
have been a contrast to her angelic descendants of the present
day.

No. 2478. An Utensil Made of Brass. This strange-looking
object may have been used by our ancestors as a helmet, or perhaps
as a fish-kettle. It is, perhaps, rather large for the first, and a
little too thick for the second. The Catalogue describes the exhibit
as " a coal-scuttle." It is impossible to verify this assertion, as coal is
now only found in specimen cases at museums, and a sketch of a
coal-scuttle has not been seen for the last fifty years. It is, however,
interesting as suggestive of a time when the world was not heated
by volcanic hot water.

Seasonable Reply (By Our Own Politest Letter-Writer).—
This is a model for a cautious answer at this time of year to an
invitation to witness an out-of-door ceremony, the laying of a first
stone, &c, &o., returning to London same day :—

" Dear A-, if I am (1) alive, (2) well, (3) with

no urgent business, (4) in London, and if the
weather is (i.) fine, (ii.) fairly warm, (iii.) likely to
last so, (iv.) wind S.W., (v.) no remains of sloshy
thaw, (vi.) no frost; if there are comfortable con-
veyances to and from station ; if there is a perfectly
Seasonable " on this drv spot for me to stand on, and see and hear
Head.' everything, and no draughts, and if there is a

good lunch in a comfortable, dry, well-aired, and warmed room, with
not too many guests, and plenty of good waiters, also with dry
champagne,—say Pommery '80 or '84, for choice,—then you may
expect me, and I accept, with the greatest possible pleasure.

"Yours ever, D. Dash."