Punch: Punch (101.1891)

August 29, 1891.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

99

AT THE DOOR; OR, PATERFAMILIAS AND THE YOUNC SPARK.

(An Electrical Eclogue.)

[" The cost is still heavy, no doubt, and the eleetric light still stands in
the category of luxuries which are almost beyOnd the reach of average
middle-class" incomes."—The " Times" on the growth of Electric Lighting in
London.']

Electric Sprite.
Old Box, let me in ! Come, now, don't you be stupid !

Why stand at your door in that dubious way ?
Like the classical girl who was called on by Cupid,

You seem half alarmed at the thought of my stay.
With meanings of mischief my mind is not laden ;

Be sure, my dear friend, that / shall not sell you,
As the artful young archer-god did the poor maiden,

Who let him in only his \isit to rue.
I hope you've not listened to enemies' strictures,

They've warned you, perhaps, against letting me pass,
/shan't soil your ceiling, / shan't spoil your pictures,

Or make nasty smells like that dirty imp, Gas !
You 're prejudiced clearly, and that is a pity,

Why, bless you, I 'm spreading all over the place !
My spark is pervading the whole of the City ;

The dingy old Oas-tlame must soon hide its face.
I 'in brilliant, and clean, and delightfully larky ;

Just look at my glow and examine my arc!
Fwizz ! How's that for high, and for vivid and sparky !

I obviate dirt, and J dissipate dark.
You just let me in ; the result you '11 be charmed at.

Objections, Old Boy, are all fiddle-de-dee.
Come now ! I'm sure you cannot be alarmed at
A dear little chap like me !

Pat erf a m il ias.

A dear little chap! Tory true ; but I'm thinking

That you 're just a little too " dear " for me—yet!
Ah, yes ! it's no use to stand smiling and winking ;

I like the bright ways of you, youngster,—you bet!
You 're white as the moon, and as spry as a rocket;

No doubt all you say in self-praise is quite true,
But you see, boy, I must keep an eye to my pocket!

The Renters and Haters so put on the screw,
That a '' middle-class income " won't stand much more squeezing.

And Forty or Fifty Pounds more in the year.
For your bright companionship, albeit pleasing,

Would come pretty stiff, my boy. That is my fear.
Just cheapen yourself, in supply and in fitting,

To something that tits with my limited " screw,"
And you will not find me shrink long from admitting
A dear little chap like y ou !

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron's Assistant Reader reports as follows to his chief—Ii
you want a really refreshing book, a book whose piquant savour and
quaint originality of style are good for jaded brains, buy and read
In a Canadian Canoe by Barrf Pain, the sixth volume of the
Whitefriars Library of Wit and Humour (Henry & Co.). Most oi
the stories and, I think, the best that, go to make up this delightful

volume have al-
k ready appeared
in The Gratita, a
Cambridge
magazine, which
London papers
are accustomed
to speak of as
"our sprightly
contemporary."
They now seek
and are sure to
obtain a wider
public and amort
extended fame.
There is in thes(
stories a curious
mixture of hu-
mour, insight

and pathos, with here and there a dash of grimness and a
sprinkling of that charming irrelevancy which is of the essence of
true humour. Occasionally Mr. Barry Pain wings a shaft against
the comfortably brutal doctrines of the average and orthodox
householder, male or female. But on these occasions he uses the
classical fables and the pagan deities as his bow, and the twang

THE HEIGHT OF FASTIDIOUSNESS.

Elder Brother. "Hullo, Frank! How is it yo»'re not in
Mourning for poor Aunt Grace ?"

Frank. "Ah—well—fact is, I tried on Sixteen or Seven-
teen Hat-bands, and couldn't get one to suit me.'"

of his shot cannot offend those who play the part of target and are
pierced. Read the four stories from the "Entertainmentsof Kapnides"'
m the " Canadian Canoe" series, or, "An Hour of Death," "The
Last Straw," and "Number One Hundred and Ihree"in "TheNine
Muses Minus One," and you will see at once what I mean. Then
for run-away, topsy-turvey wit I think I would back "The Story of
the Tin Heart" and "The Camel who never got Started," against
most stories I know. Mr. Barry Pain's stories sometimes make me
feel as if I had got hold of the key-handle of things which have
hitherto been puzzles to me. 1 turn it, open the door ever so little
to peep inside, and before I have taken a good square look, Mr.
Barry Pain slams the door in my face, and I think 1 can hear him
laughing on the other side at the bruise on my forehead. That's
not kind treatment, but it promotes curiosity. As for "The
Celestial Grocery," 1 can only say of it that it is in its way a master-
piece. Mr. Pain sometimes gives way to a touch or two of sentiment,
but he abstains from sloppiness. His book is not only witty and
humorous but fresh and original in style. It is admirably written.
His prose is good,—which is moderate praise, striking a balance
between the pros and cons of criticism. Prosit! To all holiday-
makers who like quaintness and fun touched with pathos and refine-
ment, I say again, buy and read In a Canadian Canon.

Baron de Book-Worms.

" Pugs " and " Mugs."

(A. Quotation with a Comment.)

"The faithful study of the fistic art1

From mawkish softness guards the British heart."

The study of the betting British curse

From swift depletion guards the British purse !