Punch (102.1892)

April 23, 1892.]

197

The 31. M. (throwing himself gracefully into a ivell-padded chintz

chair). Well, really-[The chair suddenly digs him in the ribs with

one of its elbows). Eh, look here now—'pon my- [He attempts to

rise, and finds himself tightly pinioned by the arms of the chair.)
There 's some confounded fool inside this chair!

The Simple Little Thing {tickling him under the chin with her fan).
Shouldn't call yourself names! I'm going—don't get up on my
account. [She goes off, laughing; a crowd collects and heartily
enjoys his situation.

The M. M. (latet—very red after his release). If I could have
found a policeman, I'd have given that chair in custody! It's
scandalous to call that coming in Fancy Dress! [Exit indignantly.

THE BBOWN-JONES INCIDENT.

(Adapted from the French.)

Scene—A Street. Enter Brown and Jones. They meet, and
regard one another for a moment, fixedly. Then they salute
one another respectfully.

Brown. I have been looking for you everywhere.

Jones. Then I am delighted to have met you.

Brown. I have said of you that you are a trickster, a scoundrel, a
fool, and an idiot!

Jones. Yes—and I have regretted the saying, because it shows
to me that you have misunderstood the great literary movement of
the present day, in its vast and varied effort.

Brown. Of that I know nothing, for I confess I have never read
your books.

Jones (reproachfully). Yes—and yet you accuse me of being a
trickster, a scoundrel, and a fool, without knowing my works ?

Brown. It was my duty. But still I had no wish to be guilty
of an outrage.

Jones. An outrage—how an outrage ?

Brown. Had I known you had been present to hear me I would
not have caused you the pain of listening to me.

Jones (with admiration). But it was the act of a brave man ! Did
it not occur to you that had I been within reach of you that you too
would have suffered pain ?

Brown. It did not, I was unconscious of your presence. I would
have preferred to have spoken behind your back. It is brutal to
speak before any face. It might lead to an unpleasantness.

Jones. No, it is your duty to do what you think is right. It is
also my duty to do what I think is right. We are now face to face.
Have you anything further to say to me ?

Brown (hurriedly). You have immense gifts—gifts which are
those of genius.

Jones. I thought you would understand me better when we met. My
dear friend, I am delighted at'this reconciliation. Give me your hand.

Broton (clasping palms). With all the pleasure in the world. But
still I owe you reparation. How can I-

Jones (interrupting). Not another word, my dear friend. That is
a matter we can leave in the hands of our Solicitors.

[Scene closes in upon'the suggestion.

OUR BOOKING-OITICE.

It is curious to find a coincidence in style and in idea between an
earnest, witty and pious English author of the Sixteenth Century, and

an American author of
our own day. Yet so it
is, and here is the parallel
to be found between the
quaint American tales
about the old negro, Uncle
Remus, by Joel Chand-
lee Harris, in this year
of Grace, 1892, and the
fables writ by Sir Thomas
Moee in 1520, or there-
abouts, which he repre-
sents as if told him by an
old wife and nurse, one
Mother Maud. Here are
"The Wolf," — "Brer
Wolf"—and the simple-
minded Jackass, both
are going to confession to
Father Fox— " Brer Fox."
iEsop is, of course, the
j(Ar common origin of all such

Oliver asking for More." tales. The extracts which

I have come across, are to be found in a small book compiled by the
Rev. Thomas Beidgett, entitled, The Wit and Wisdom of Sir
Thomas More. The Baron wishes that with it had been issued a

r;li(<XiSiuiil

A SOLILOQUY.

Youthful Mercury. " What's this 'ebe on the Plyte ? 'Knock
and Ring ' ! Blowed if they won't be haesking yer to 1 Walk
iiinside,' next ! ! "

glossary of old English words and expressions, as, to an ordinary
modern reader, much of Sir Thomas Moee's writing is well-nigh
unintelligible; nay, in some instances, the Baron can only
approximately arrive at the meaning, as though it were a writ
in a foreign language with which his acquaintance was of no
great profundity. Certes, the learned and reverend compiler hath
a keen relish for this quaintness, but not so will fifteen out of his
twenty readers, who, pardie! shall regret the absence of a key
without which some of the treasure must, to them at least, remain
inaccessible. With this reservation, but with no sort of equivoca-
tion, doth the Baron heartily recommend The Reverend Beedgett's
compilation of Sir Thomas Moee's " English as she is writ" in the
Sixteenth Century, to all lovers of good books in this "so-called
(0, immortal phrase!) Nineteenth Century." The Rev. Thomas hath
well and ably done his work, and therefore doth the Baron _ advise
his readers to go to their booksellers, and, being there, to imitate
the example of Dickens's oft-quoted Oliver, and " ask for Moee."

Quoth the Baron, "Much liketh me the Macmillanite series
of English Men of Action, and in a very special manner do I laud
the latest that, to my knowledge, hath appeared 'yclept Montrose,
by Master Mowbray Moeeis—a good many " M's " in these names—■
who hath executed his Montrose with as loving a heart and as tender
a touch as ever did use old Izaak towards the gentle that he, and the
simple fish, did love so well. Did not the very hangman burst into
tears as he thrust the unfortunate nobleman off the step ? and did
not a universal sob of pity break from the vast crowd assembled tc
see the last of the noble cavalier, victim to an unfortunate tradition
of loyalty ? What wonder then if we sympathise with this luckless
hero of romance P The weak-knee'd villain of this historical drama
was " Charles (his friend)," in which character, be it allowed, this
sad dog of a Merry Monarch not infrequently appeared. "Thank
you much, Mr. Mowbeay Monteose Moeeis," quoth

The Beneficent Baeon de Book-Woems.