DOI issue:
August 20, 1892
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0082
August 20, 1892.] PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 77
The Husband [sulkily). No one ever said a word to me about Anyone who has not yet contributed will kindly embrace this oppor-
there being a bed. And I've taken one for him now at the tunity of placing his offering upon the instrument; after which
Paragon, anyway—so that's settled! _ I shall endeavour to sing you " In Old Madrid." Oh, what a
The Economical Lady. I call it downright foolishness to go paying j difficult ditty it is, to be sure, dear Ladies and Gentlemen—espe-
'alf-a-crown a night for a bed, when there's one all ready 'ere for j cially as it makes the twenty-seventh I've sung since tea-time—
him ! And you don't know how long he may mean to stop, either ! however, I will do my best. {He sings it.) That will conclude my
The Self-invited Visitor {suddenly emerging from the shadow), al-fresco Concert for this evening. And now, thanking you all for
—You '11 'be 'appy to know. Mum, that your hospitality will not ; your generous patronage of my humble efforts, and again reminding
exceed the 'alf-crown. Good evenin'. [Retires to the Paragon. \ those who have not yet expressed their appreciation in a pecuniary
The Econ. L. {regretfully). And a lobster ordered in for supper form, that I am now about to circulate with the hat for the last
a-purpose for him, too ! _ j time, I wish you all farewell, and balmy slumbers !
A Street Musician {with a portable piano). I will next attempt a I {He collects the final coins, and wheels away the piano. The
love-song. I feel full of love to-night. Oh, Ladies and Gentle- \ crowd disperses ; the listeners in the lodging-house balconies
men—{earnestly)—take advantage of a salubrious night like this ! retire ; and the Crescent is silent and deserted.
OUE BOOKING-OEEICE.
One of the Baron's " Merry Men All" has
been reading and enjoying Mr. Barry Pain's
Stories and Interludes. The book has a
wondrously weird and heavily-lined picture
in front, which is just a little too like a
'' Prophetic Hieroglyphic " in ZadkieVs Alma-
nack. An emaciated and broken-winged
devil is apparently carrying an engine-hose
through a churchyard, whilst a bat flits
against a curious sky, which looks like a
young grainer's first attempt at imitating
"birds'-eye maple." Upon a second glance
it seems possible that the " hose " is a snake,
the tail of which the devil is gnawing. The
gruesome design illustrates a yet more grue-
some Interlude, entitled, " The Bat and the
Eerily But it gives no fair idea of the con-
tents of the volume, some of which are
charming.
Head White Nights, stories within a story,
told by a tragical ''Pool," of the! breed of
Hugo's Rigoletto, and Poe's Hopfrog—with
a difference. They are told with force and
grace, and with" unstrained, but moving
pathos. Bead "The Dog That Got Found,"
a brief, sketch indeed, but abundantly sug-
gestive. Poor Fido—the "dog that got to
be utterly sick of conventionality," and came
to such bitter grief in his search for "life,
poignant and intense!" He might read a
lesson to many a two-legged prig, were the
bipedal nincompoop capable of learning it.
The Glass of Supreme Moments is, perhaps,
needlessly enigmatical, and Rural Simplicity,
Concealed Art, and Two Poets, strike one
as superfluously " unpleasant." Mr. Pain
seems slightly touched with the current
literary fad for making bricks with the
smallest possible quantity of straw. One half-
pennyworth of the bread of incident to an
intolerable deal of the sack of strained style
and pessimist commentary, make poorish
imaginative pabulum, though there seems an
increasing appetite for it amongst those
who, unlike Lucas Morne in The Glass of
Supreme Moments, plume themselves upon
possession of "the finer perceptions." The
Magic Morning is a "scrap" elaborately
auced and garnished; the fleeting flavour
may possess a certain sub-acid piquancy, but
such small dishes of broken meats are hardly
nourishing or wholesome.
Mr. Pain has a delicate fancy and a grace-
ful style, a bitter-sweet humour, and a
plentiful endowment of '' the finer percep-
tions." He has done some good work here,
and will do better—when he finds his sub-
ject, and loses his affectations. Head White
Nights, again says the Baron's "retainer."
Baron de Book-Worms & Co.
Coming Baronetcy to be Musically
Noted.—Song for a "Lullaby" or a "Good
Knight" from Eon Giovanni, and dedicated
by nobody's permission to Sir Arthur Sey-
mour Sullivan, would be "Party.' Party!"
Will Sir Edward Solomon be in it ? Prob-
ably this is " another night."
LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
No V.—Butlerless.
On! bring my Butler back to me ;
I stray and lapse alone !
If this be freedom, to be free
Were something best unknown.
He used to look so grand and grave—
So sad when I was slack;
'Twas difficult to misbehave—
Oh, bring my Butler back !
In him was nothing flash nor green—
A Seneschal confessed;
Most people deemed his reverend mien
Some family bequest.
And yet but three short, happy years
Had seen him on our tack,
And made us verge on Vere de Teres—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
A Pedigree in
s w a 11 o w-
tails,
He gave our
household
"tone."
My soul ple-
beian trips
and fails
(See stanza
first) alone,
I fall on low
Bohemian
ways,
I doff my even-
ing black ;
I dine in blazer
all ablaze—
Oh, bring my
Butler back !
I breakfast now
and smoke in
bed;
I Avrench the
bell for coals;
No master-hand
and master-
head
The_ day's
routine con-
trols.
No stately form
in homage
curved,
Our commis-
sariat's lack,
Yeneers with,
"Einner, Sir,
is served"—
Oh, bring my
Butler back!
A few old friends drop in at times,
But ah! their zest is gone ;
No organ voice with awe sublimes
Brown, J ones, and Robinson.
They sound to me quite commonplace,
Who seemed a ducal pack :
'Twas he who lent them rank and race—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
And they must think me very queer,
Each unennobled guest:
I munch my chop, 1 quaff my beer
At meal-times unredressed,
I laugh a laughter rude and loud;
My little jokes I crack ;
The parlour-maid with mirth is bowed—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
Yes ! bring that paragon to me—
'Tis true he drank my wine ;
But, as I found it disagree,
I don't so much repine :
'Tis true we missed a little plate
When he gave us the sack.
But'' all things come to them that wait"—
Oh, bring my Butler back !
That gorgeous grace, that smile severe,
That look of Lords and Barts,
These or3 the charms that most endear
His im ige to our hearts.
The standard of my broken life
Wito. him has gone to rack,
And, if it were not for my wife,
1 'd bring my Butler back !
FINE, OR REEINE ?
[An Educational Journal recently suggested tlie
formation of a " Guild of Courtesy," with especial
view to refining the manners and language of the
youth of the working classes.]
Hail, noble Guild ! By all means drive
Expletives from our highways ;
They are the ruin of our roads,
The byword of our byways !
And rowdies too—to teach them grace
A philanthropic art is ;
These subjects for the Guild may well
Be called the " Guildy parties " .
The lumbering horse-play of the streets,
Can we its spirits soothe ?
Will blarneying do? Or can "the Bough"
Be "taken with the smooth " ?
And there's the working girl: can we
From yells and rompings wean her Y
For the demeanour of a Miss
Is oft a mis-demeanour.
0 worthy Guildsmen! Take in hand
All ages and all classes !
Show how to hearts Good Manners' arts
Supply the freest passes.
Do not such terms as these of hope
Your undertaking rob—
The " common people "—"lower class,"
" The vulgar," and " the mob " P
And there's our worship of the purse ;
'Gainst it pray have a tilt
Oh, gild our manners! But take care
They are not silver-gilt!
All at Sea.—The Kaiser is reported to be
so delighted with his visit to the Isle of Wight,
that he proposes to repeat the journey next
year. Fond of military display, if he goes to
Ryde he will be appropriately accompanied by
an escort of German Mounted Marines.'
The Husband [sulkily). No one ever said a word to me about Anyone who has not yet contributed will kindly embrace this oppor-
there being a bed. And I've taken one for him now at the tunity of placing his offering upon the instrument; after which
Paragon, anyway—so that's settled! _ I shall endeavour to sing you " In Old Madrid." Oh, what a
The Economical Lady. I call it downright foolishness to go paying j difficult ditty it is, to be sure, dear Ladies and Gentlemen—espe-
'alf-a-crown a night for a bed, when there's one all ready 'ere for j cially as it makes the twenty-seventh I've sung since tea-time—
him ! And you don't know how long he may mean to stop, either ! however, I will do my best. {He sings it.) That will conclude my
The Self-invited Visitor {suddenly emerging from the shadow), al-fresco Concert for this evening. And now, thanking you all for
—You '11 'be 'appy to know. Mum, that your hospitality will not ; your generous patronage of my humble efforts, and again reminding
exceed the 'alf-crown. Good evenin'. [Retires to the Paragon. \ those who have not yet expressed their appreciation in a pecuniary
The Econ. L. {regretfully). And a lobster ordered in for supper form, that I am now about to circulate with the hat for the last
a-purpose for him, too ! _ j time, I wish you all farewell, and balmy slumbers !
A Street Musician {with a portable piano). I will next attempt a I {He collects the final coins, and wheels away the piano. The
love-song. I feel full of love to-night. Oh, Ladies and Gentle- \ crowd disperses ; the listeners in the lodging-house balconies
men—{earnestly)—take advantage of a salubrious night like this ! retire ; and the Crescent is silent and deserted.
OUE BOOKING-OEEICE.
One of the Baron's " Merry Men All" has
been reading and enjoying Mr. Barry Pain's
Stories and Interludes. The book has a
wondrously weird and heavily-lined picture
in front, which is just a little too like a
'' Prophetic Hieroglyphic " in ZadkieVs Alma-
nack. An emaciated and broken-winged
devil is apparently carrying an engine-hose
through a churchyard, whilst a bat flits
against a curious sky, which looks like a
young grainer's first attempt at imitating
"birds'-eye maple." Upon a second glance
it seems possible that the " hose " is a snake,
the tail of which the devil is gnawing. The
gruesome design illustrates a yet more grue-
some Interlude, entitled, " The Bat and the
Eerily But it gives no fair idea of the con-
tents of the volume, some of which are
charming.
Head White Nights, stories within a story,
told by a tragical ''Pool," of the! breed of
Hugo's Rigoletto, and Poe's Hopfrog—with
a difference. They are told with force and
grace, and with" unstrained, but moving
pathos. Bead "The Dog That Got Found,"
a brief, sketch indeed, but abundantly sug-
gestive. Poor Fido—the "dog that got to
be utterly sick of conventionality," and came
to such bitter grief in his search for "life,
poignant and intense!" He might read a
lesson to many a two-legged prig, were the
bipedal nincompoop capable of learning it.
The Glass of Supreme Moments is, perhaps,
needlessly enigmatical, and Rural Simplicity,
Concealed Art, and Two Poets, strike one
as superfluously " unpleasant." Mr. Pain
seems slightly touched with the current
literary fad for making bricks with the
smallest possible quantity of straw. One half-
pennyworth of the bread of incident to an
intolerable deal of the sack of strained style
and pessimist commentary, make poorish
imaginative pabulum, though there seems an
increasing appetite for it amongst those
who, unlike Lucas Morne in The Glass of
Supreme Moments, plume themselves upon
possession of "the finer perceptions." The
Magic Morning is a "scrap" elaborately
auced and garnished; the fleeting flavour
may possess a certain sub-acid piquancy, but
such small dishes of broken meats are hardly
nourishing or wholesome.
Mr. Pain has a delicate fancy and a grace-
ful style, a bitter-sweet humour, and a
plentiful endowment of '' the finer percep-
tions." He has done some good work here,
and will do better—when he finds his sub-
ject, and loses his affectations. Head White
Nights, again says the Baron's "retainer."
Baron de Book-Worms & Co.
Coming Baronetcy to be Musically
Noted.—Song for a "Lullaby" or a "Good
Knight" from Eon Giovanni, and dedicated
by nobody's permission to Sir Arthur Sey-
mour Sullivan, would be "Party.' Party!"
Will Sir Edward Solomon be in it ? Prob-
ably this is " another night."
LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
No V.—Butlerless.
On! bring my Butler back to me ;
I stray and lapse alone !
If this be freedom, to be free
Were something best unknown.
He used to look so grand and grave—
So sad when I was slack;
'Twas difficult to misbehave—
Oh, bring my Butler back !
In him was nothing flash nor green—
A Seneschal confessed;
Most people deemed his reverend mien
Some family bequest.
And yet but three short, happy years
Had seen him on our tack,
And made us verge on Vere de Teres—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
A Pedigree in
s w a 11 o w-
tails,
He gave our
household
"tone."
My soul ple-
beian trips
and fails
(See stanza
first) alone,
I fall on low
Bohemian
ways,
I doff my even-
ing black ;
I dine in blazer
all ablaze—
Oh, bring my
Butler back !
I breakfast now
and smoke in
bed;
I Avrench the
bell for coals;
No master-hand
and master-
head
The_ day's
routine con-
trols.
No stately form
in homage
curved,
Our commis-
sariat's lack,
Yeneers with,
"Einner, Sir,
is served"—
Oh, bring my
Butler back!
A few old friends drop in at times,
But ah! their zest is gone ;
No organ voice with awe sublimes
Brown, J ones, and Robinson.
They sound to me quite commonplace,
Who seemed a ducal pack :
'Twas he who lent them rank and race—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
And they must think me very queer,
Each unennobled guest:
I munch my chop, 1 quaff my beer
At meal-times unredressed,
I laugh a laughter rude and loud;
My little jokes I crack ;
The parlour-maid with mirth is bowed—
Oh, bring my Butler back!
Yes ! bring that paragon to me—
'Tis true he drank my wine ;
But, as I found it disagree,
I don't so much repine :
'Tis true we missed a little plate
When he gave us the sack.
But'' all things come to them that wait"—
Oh, bring my Butler back !
That gorgeous grace, that smile severe,
That look of Lords and Barts,
These or3 the charms that most endear
His im ige to our hearts.
The standard of my broken life
Wito. him has gone to rack,
And, if it were not for my wife,
1 'd bring my Butler back !
FINE, OR REEINE ?
[An Educational Journal recently suggested tlie
formation of a " Guild of Courtesy," with especial
view to refining the manners and language of the
youth of the working classes.]
Hail, noble Guild ! By all means drive
Expletives from our highways ;
They are the ruin of our roads,
The byword of our byways !
And rowdies too—to teach them grace
A philanthropic art is ;
These subjects for the Guild may well
Be called the " Guildy parties " .
The lumbering horse-play of the streets,
Can we its spirits soothe ?
Will blarneying do? Or can "the Bough"
Be "taken with the smooth " ?
And there's the working girl: can we
From yells and rompings wean her Y
For the demeanour of a Miss
Is oft a mis-demeanour.
0 worthy Guildsmen! Take in hand
All ages and all classes !
Show how to hearts Good Manners' arts
Supply the freest passes.
Do not such terms as these of hope
Your undertaking rob—
The " common people "—"lower class,"
" The vulgar," and " the mob " P
And there's our worship of the purse ;
'Gainst it pray have a tilt
Oh, gild our manners! But take care
They are not silver-gilt!
All at Sea.—The Kaiser is reported to be
so delighted with his visit to the Isle of Wight,
that he proposes to repeat the journey next
year. Fond of military display, if he goes to
Ryde he will be appropriately accompanied by
an escort of German Mounted Marines.'