Punch (103.1892)

December 3, 1892.]

Spectators [to the tall man). Why don't ye step up to 'un, Jim?
Use yer right 'and a bit! (To the short one.) Let ont on 'un, Tom !
[Tom, thus exhorted, lands an unexpected blow on Jim's eye.

Jim {suddenly ducking under the rope in great dudgeon). 'Twas a
cowardly blow! I didn' stan' up to be 'it in th' fa-ace i' that way ;
I've 'ad enoof of it!

Tom. Come back and fight it out I _ (Soothingly.) Why, ye come
at me like a thunderin' great Hon, ye did !

Jim (putting on his hat and coat, sulkily). Loi-on or noan, I ain't
gawin' to hev naw moor on it, I tell 'ee. [Groans from Spectators.

Prof. Don't be 'ard on 'im, Gents; it ain't 'is fault if he's on'y
bin used to box with bolsters, and as he ain't goin' to_ finish 'is
rounds, it's all over for this time, and I 'ope you 're all satisfied with
what you've seen.

A Malcontent. J ain't. I carl it a bloomin' swindle. I come 'ere
to see some sparrin\ /did!

Prof. Step inside the ropes then, and I '11 soon show yer some'.
(This invitation is hastily declined.) Well, then, > go outside
quiet, d'jear me? or else you'll do it upside down, like ole John
Brown, in 'arf a sec, I can tell yer !

[The Malcontent departs meekly, and reserves any further obser-
vations until he is out of hearing.

Melia (to Joe). Lor, I wish now I'd been there to see ye ; I do
'ope ye weren't too rough with 'un, though, Joe. What shall we do
next ?—'ave a turn on the swings, or the swishback circus, or the
giddy-go-round—or what? (Joe shakes his head.) Why won't
ye, Joe?

Joe (driven to candour). Why ?—'cause it 'ud be throwin' away
money, seein' I've got 'em all goin' on inside o' me at once as 'tis, if
ye want to know! I feel a deal more like settin' down quiet a bit,
I do, if I cud find a place.

Melia (with an inspiration). Then let's go and'ave our likenesses
took!

[She cannot understand why Joe should be so needlessly in-
censed at so innocent and opportune a suggestion.

THE "BEST EVIDENCE "—HOY/ KOT TO GET IT.

Have been summoned to attend as a Witness in the trial of the six
roughs who first drugged and then savagely ill-treated a foolishly
convivial citizen in Whitechapel. Don't know if it was wise of me
to tell the Police that I could identify the men. Since my evidence
before the Magistrate came out, I have had thirty-seven threatening
letters, my front windows have been broken several times over, and
a valuable dog poisoned. Still, evidently a patriotic duty to '' assist
the course of Justice; " and no doubt I shall be coiopensated.

So this is the "Central Criminal Court," is it? Should hardly
have believed it possible. Outside mean and dirty.

Interior, meaner and much dirtier. Speak to Usher. Usher most
polite. Glad, that at any rate, they do know how to treat important
Witnesses. Am assured I shall have a seat " close to.the Judge."
Produce my witness-summons. Demeanour of Usher suddenly
changes. I shall have to goto/the " Witnesses'.Waiting-room in the
old Court." Where's that? He doesn't know. I'd better ask a
Policeman. It now flashes across me that Usher mistook me for a
wealthy, and probably generous spectator, and thought when I was
fumbling in my pocket for my summons, I was looking for half-a-
erown for him ! Depressing.

Policeman h aves me in a dark, draughty passage, with a bench on
each side. " But where is the waiting-room ? " I ask an attendant.

This is the waiting-room," he replies. More" like the Black Hole.
Was it wise of me to give information to the Police ?

Two Bays later.—They crammed forty Witnesses into that passage!
No seats for half of them. We had one chair, and Usher took it
away " as a lady wanted it in Court." Lady no doubt a spectator—
did she hunt in her pocket for half-a-crown ? Anyhow, after two
days in the passage, I have just given my evidence in Court, with
fearful cold on my lungs, owing to the draught. Very hoarse.
Ordered by Judge, sternly, to " speak up." Conscious that I looked
a wretched object.^ Jury regarded me with evident suspicion.
Severely cross-examined. Mentioned to Judge about my windows
being smashed, &c.; could I receive anything for it? " Oh, dear
no," replied the Judge ; "we never reward Witnesses." Amusement
in Court—at my expense. In fact, the course of Justice generally
seems to be altogether at my expense. Home in a cab and a fever.
Find ten more threatening letters, and an infernal machine under
area-steps. Go to bed. Doctor says I am in for pneumonia and
bronchitis, he thinks. Tells me I am thoroughly run down, and asks
me, "What I've beendoingto reduce myself to this state?" I
reply that, " I have been assisting the course of Justice." Doctor
shrug s his shoulders, and I hear him distinctly mutter, '' More fool
you ! " I agree with Doctor, cordially. Am quite certain now that
it was unwise to tell Police that I could identify those criminals. If
this isthe way in which Witnesses are treated, let Justice in future
assist itself!

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

My Baronite has been reading Mona Maclean, Medical Student.
(Blackwood.) "It is," he tells me, "a Novel with a purpose—
no recommendation for a novel, more especially when the pur-
pose selected is that of demonstrating the indispensability _ of
women-doctors. Happily Graham Travers, as the author (being
evidently a woman) calls herself, is lured from her fell design.
There is a chapter or two of talk among the girls in the
dissecting-room and the chemical laboratory, with much about the
" spheno-maxillary fossa," the'' dorsalis pedis," and the general where-
abouts of " Scarpa's triangle." But these can be skipped, and the
reader may get into the company of Mona Maclean when she is less
erudite, and more womanly. When not dissecting the "plantar arch,"
Mona is a bright, fearless, clever girl, with a breezy manner, re-
freshing to all admitted to her company. The episode of her
shopkeeping experience is admirably told, and affords the author
abundant and varied opportunity of exercising her gift of draw-
ing character. Mona Maclean is, apparently, a first effort at novel-
writing. The workmanship improves up to the end of the third
volume ; and Miss Travers' next book will be better still.

Affection's Offering—fiom Alfred the Second to Dear Geo'ge the First.

To Mr. J. Fjsher Us win comes the happy thought of issuing,
in a neatly-packed box, the whole twenty volumes of the Pseudonym
Library—and a very acceptable Christmas-Box it will make. The
volumes, with their odd, oblong shape, are delightful to hold ; the
type i3 good, and the excellence of the literary matter is remarkably
well kept up over the already long series. Mr. Unwin promises
fresh volumes, introducing to the British public Finnish and Danish
authors, or Danish first, and the others to Finnish.

See how these Poets love one another! How touching is the
dedication of Alfred Austin's latest volume to George Meredith !
May both live long and prosper, is the hearty wish of their friend,

Tile Baron De Book-Worms.

THE ROYAL ROAD TO COMFORT.—A Dream,

The rival Steamboats were on the alert. _ It was a misty night,
and it was a difficult matter to make out the lights of Calais Harbour.

" We shall catch him yet," said the Captain of the Blue Yessel.

" He will not escape us," observed the C. 0. of the Red.

Suddenly the Blue started at full steam ahead, and was lost to
sight in Calais harbour. She was quickly followed by the Red,
moving with equal expedition.

The vessels reached the quay nearly at the same time. Then there
was confusion and sounds of military music. Evidently the Illus-
trious Personage had embarked. Then the mist cleared away.

" He is safe on board," said the Captain of the Blue Yessel, and
his Mate indulged in a short laugh of triumph.

" It does not matter," observed the Commanding Officer of the
Red; "the Blue may have his person, but we have his luggage! "

And then the cheers were renewed again and again, and the Illus-
trious Personage came to the conclusion that English enterprise was
not without its disadvantages!