Punch (103.1892)

November 19, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,

237

WHAT ABOUT GLASS HOUSES?

First Jovial Cabby {to Second Ditto). "Hi say, Bill, did yer hever see sioh Guys as
these 'ere Girls makes of theirselves ? Now, ye'd niver see a Man go and make
such a ridik'lous hobjick of 'isself !! "

A PUFF OF SMOKE.

( What, the heart of the young Vocalist said to the
Anti- Tobacconist, after reading Mr. Charles
Santley's sage observations on Singing and
Smoking, in his new book '' Student and
Singer.' )

[" Smoking is an art; it may be made useful or
otherwise, according as it is exercised." — Mr.
Santley.]

Tell me not, ye mournful croakers,

Smoking is a dirty habit.
Brainless are ye, sour non-smokers,

As a vivisected rabbit.

" Smoking is an Art," says Santley ;

There is Beauty in the bowl.
Thev who doubt it must be scantly

Blest with sense, or dowered with soul.

As an Art it claims attention ;

Study is the only way.
Smoking skill, not smoke-prevention,

Is the thing we want to-day.

Art is long and smoke is fleeting ;

But puff on until you learn
Good tobacco 's not for eating.'

Pipe-bowls are not meant to burn '

Smoke without expectorating,
Do not sputter, do not chew ;

Puff not as though emulating
Some foul factory's sooty flue

Let not oily dark defilement
Sting your lips ; there is no need.

Joy and care need reconcilement
For enjoyment of the weed.

Trust no " Germans," buy no " British,"

Sound HaYanas only smoke !
"Lady Nicotine " is skittish,

Penny Pickwicks are no joke.

Smoke no strong shag, no rank " stinger,"
Pick your baccy, puff with skill,

And—although you are a singer,
You may smoke, and not feel ill.

Let us then be up and smoking,

An an Art the thing pursue ;
As great Santley, who's not joking,

Says he does, and all may do !

LADY GAPS DISTRACTION.

Dear Mr. Punch,—You are as fickle as
the rest of your sex, I fear, otherwise you
would not have requited my devotion to you
and your interests in such an awful manner
as you did in publishing my husband's letter
last week !—and such a letter! Oh, I could
write such a scathing reply to it!

Of course, it was jealousy on the part of
Sir Charles at my literary success—(setting
aside the wonderful tips)—which caused the
explosion that led to his writing to you, but
I never—never—thought" you would insert
his letter, especially as I slipped in a post-
script which to my mind explained every-
thing—as, indeed, postscripts should do, or
what is the good of writing a long letter
about nothing in front of themY The
wretch confesses that he laughed at my
articles until he knew who wrote them, and
then thought less of them! Isn't that like
a husband ?—I won't say like a man, as so

few husbands are men!—at least, in the
eyes of their wives. The moment a wife
does something her husband can't do, he
dislikes and pooh-poohs it; whereas, the
more accomplishments a husband displays,
the more a wife appreciates him, or says so
even if she doesn't!—which is a noble false-
hood, for how few women are large-minded
enough to pretend to admire qualities which
they despise because they don't possess them
—I'm not sure that this is what I mean, nor
do I quite understand it, but it reads well,
which is more than Sir Charles's stuff does!

And then his impertinence in proposing to
"edit" my letters !—as if anyone could be
more capable of doing that than you ?—(you
will observe that it is solely on your account
that I am annoyed !)—I could not brook such
interference!—I don't know exactly the
meaning of "brooking" anything, but I
know I wept enough tears of annoyance to
form a decent "brook" of themselves! I
need hardly tell you that it was a biting
sarcasm on my part to suggest that he should
finish his letter with a " verse," as I always
do—but there—men don't understand sar-
casm—(one of our most frequently employed
weapons of offence !)—and the poor thing
thought I was in earnest, and did it! And
what a verse \ I could write better with my
left hand!

I need scarcely tell you that I have left
him—(this is why my address is not to be
published)—as I consider my duty to the
Public rendered it imperative that I should
do so, for I should not think much of any
woman who allowed a paltry consideration of
domestic obligations to weigh against the
pursuit of a career of usefulness.

If, therefore, a vein of sadness and cynicism
runs through this letter, you will understand
that it does not proceed from any regret at
the " breaking up of the happy home," but
rather from sorrow at the thought that once
again the intellectual superiority of one of
the softer sex has not been accepted in the
right spirit by the possessor of the weaker
mind, to whom she owes obedience !

I trust I have done with Sir Charles for
ever!—especially if he speaks the truth in
saying that "following my tips has ruined
him"—for why should any woman burden
herself with an impecunious husband? He
does not know where I am, and I feel still
more secure in my retreat from having just
heard that he has engaged the services of
several of the most prominent London Detec-
tives to trace me!

Owing no devotion now to Sir Charles—
who will appreciate the following tender lines
with which I close my letter—

0 Woman ! in our hours of ease,
Thou art not very hard to please !
Thou takest what the gods may send ;
But, thwarted !—thou wilt turn and rend!

I am able to subscribe myself, dear Mr Punch,

Yours more devotedly than ever,

Lady Gay'.

TFrom internal evidence, we are inclined to
believe that this present letter, or the one last
week from " Sir Charles," is a forgery. In
former correspondence Lady Gay mentioned " Lord
Arthur " as her husband. We pause for an
explanation.—En.]

Proverb for Vocalists, a propos of
Sir Joseph Barney's Remarks on Articu-
lation.—"Take care of the sense, and the
sounds will take care of themselves."

Why is pepper essential to the health of
the new Lord Mayor P—Because without
" Kn." (cayenne) he would be " ill."