Punch: Punch (101.1891)

Octobee 10, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

179

BOULANGEB.

So high he floated, that he seemed to climh ;
The bladder blown by chance was burst by
time.

Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the
urns;

The mob which reared the god the idol burns.
To cling one moment nigh to power's crest,
Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's
rest

Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence,
seems

Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and
dreams ;

But Cesar's simulacrum, seen by day,
Scarce envious Casca's s-ilf would stoop to
slay,

And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown,
Need fear—or hope—no dagger save its own.

From Bright to Dull.—In an interesting
article on artificial reproductions of Nature's
treasures, the Standard remarked that " Real
diamonds have been turned out of the chemist's
retorts." What a brilliant chemist he must
have been ! Probably of Hibernian origin, as
among conversational sparklers there are few
on record more brilliant than "Irish Dia-
monds." Stay, though ! If the real diamonds
were "turned out of the chemist's retorts,"
then his retorts, without these flashes of bril-
liancy, must have been a trifle dull, and he is
no longer the chemist we took him for. " But,"
to quote our Kipling, "that is another story."

The New Evangel.

[SL Zola, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the
regenerative mission of human bloodshed.]

" Zola on War," intensifies the " Hola ! "
Of purists who are all for " war on Zola ! "
Well, he whose pen is touched with tints

from Tophet,
Is the right man to pose as Bed War's

Prophet!

A Trifle for The Builder. — "When
are houses like difficulties ? " And the prac-
tical man replies, "When they have to be
' faced.' "

THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER.

Laconic Waiter {thoroughly familiar with Sporting Major's taste in Champagne). "Seventy-
Four, Sir?"

Sporting Major (dotvn on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket). " Seven-to-Fouk, Sir ! '
Dash it ! wouldn't take Ten to One about anything ! "

US

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(( "Respected Andrew Lang," writes the Baron's Assistant Reader,
" I have read your criticism in Longman's Magazine upon Mr. Barry
Pain's Ln a Canadian Canoe. It s an ugly piece of bludgeon work,
I admit, but not convincing to any-
one who has read the book of which
you speak. You tear away a line or
two from the context, and ask your
readers to say if that is wit or
humour. How Your admirers would
have protested had any sacrilegious
critic ventured to treat one of your
own immortal works in this manner.
Essays in Little, a book which, by
the way, appeared in the same series
for which Mr. Barry Pain wrote,
is a pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but
even Essays in Little would have presented a
sorry appearance if, let us say, Andrew Lang
had reviewed it in this perfunctory and ex-
tractory and arbitrary fashion. I remember
that in that case the critics were respectfully
enthusiastic. Even Mr. Bludyer would have
doffed his cap, I fancy, to one

Who rhymes, researches and reviews,
Who sometimes writes like Genesis,
And sometimes in the Daily News.

For, after aU, you stand high in the journalistic world. Your
opinion passes current in many a select circle. Not even your
vagaries seeni to have power to offend the worshippers to whom your

word has long been a law, whether you spoke of golf, of salmon, of
folk-lore or of books. The censure of a Bludyer (I wonder what has
brought that formidable name to my mind) can do little to discourage
you. But Mr. Barry Pain is a young writer. And yet some one
remarked that Ln a Canadian Canoe was better even than Essays in
Little, and the audacious words were actually printed in a journal to
which Andrew Lang is an occasional contributor. I myself have
never dared to go so far. There is something sacred about an es-
tablished reputation. And I can honestly say that I like the
elegant airy trifles which your little Muse has bestowed upon us,
though I confess to a weariness when the talk is too much of golf-clubs
and salmon rods. And I admire your appreciation of the original
work of other men. In the present case you and I disagree upon a
question of taste. That is all. Tant pis pour moi, I hasten to add.
But I disagree in good company, for I note with some amusement,
that the Payn whom you rightly praise, has a kind and encouraging
word for the Pain whom you so vehemently disparage. And in
this case I will stake my all upon the eulogy of James Payn as
against the censure of Andrew Lang. As you did me the honour to
refer to something I had written, I thought myself bound in polite-
ness to reply, and am your obedient servant,

An A. R. in the B. de B.-W.'s Office."

A Straight Tip to Canadian "Cross Coves."

'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe "

To practise what the ribald call " canoodling ; "
But what the deuce does the Dominion do,

" In this galley," with this new game of" boodling ? "
" raddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will,
But kick all " cross coves" out, and trust to honest skill.