THE PLEASURE-SEEKER'S VADE MECUM.
Reading edition
Q. I trust you have had a delightful time recently?
A. Indeed I have, with the assistance of Private Views, Special Performances, and Second-rate First Nights.
Q. Did you assist at the première of Gretna Green, the new "Comedy Opera" at the Opéra Comique?
A. An Act of it. It had already been played on a previous occasion, when I fancy one of the principal performers, finding that his part was dragging, introduced imitations of popular modern actors. As the period of Gretna Green is the eighteenth century, this innovation must have been at once pleasing and appropriate.
Q. I think you have also been present at the first performance of the "Wild East," at the Earl's Court Exhibition?
A. I have had that advantage, and am now thoroughly conversant with the manners and customs of our lively neighbours in some parts of Africa.
Q. Are those manners and customs what may be termed—quaint?
A. They are very quaint. Still I am not sure that I have not seen something very like them before. As for the Exhibition itself, there is as little doubt about its being French, as there was about last year's display being Spanish.
Q. Have you been to the Flower Show at the Aquarium?
A. I have; but did not find that home of scientific research quite so full as it was when the Directors were testing the powers of endurance of the Fasting Man.
Q. Do you consider the Westminster Aquarium of material assistance in developing the latent civilisation of the nineteenth century?
A. Indeed, I do; especially now that "the Royal Bears" are a feature in the daily programme.
Q. Did you pass the Bank Holiday pleasantly?
A. When I tell you that I seized the opportunity to go to Calais and back third-class excursion with a number of anti-temperance-movement fellow passengers, you will see at once that the festival must have been to me a source of unmixed enjoyment!
THE ARGUMENT BY ANALOGY.
Mariar Ann. "What a beautiful 'Ouse, Miss! What a lot o' Rent you must 'ave to pay! I suppose Ladies and Gentlemen do pay Rent?"
Daughter of the House. "Of course they do."
Mariar Ann. "What a deal o' trouble your Father must 'ave, to get it together every Week!"
"COUNTRY AND DUTY."
Old Morality (in flannels) sings;—
Ouf! Free from their "howlings and whinings" awhile, (Which, as the Times tells us, are frightful—are frightful.) But here Nature smiles, a true Smithian smile, And the change from the House is delightful—delightful! A smile which, as Goschen would say, one can hear; A susurrus sweeps over the river—the river. Oh, Henley in May to my heart is as dear As to Spaniards the gay Guadalquivir—dalquivir! No doubt they are yelping and yapping like mad; In such hobbles cantankerous spleen lands—rous spleen lands. I peacefully sprawl on the turf, and am glad; The Blue Devils never reach Greenlands—reach Greenlands. By Jove, they have led me a doose of a life! Their conduct is sheer criminality—nality. Here, though, thank Heaven, I'm far from the strife, Here the wicked won't vex Old Morality—rality! True, 'tisn't for long, a clear week at the most. They would worry us out of our Whitsuntide—Whitsuntide. But still we all feel, though I don't want to boast, Like Park-hacks in paddock, or "tits" untied—"tits" untied. They mock my wide smile, and my scantness of thatch; I think, though, in managing skill I am—skill I am, All things considered, much more than a match For swaggering, swashing Sir William—Will-i-am! Lawks! this is lovely! But, Smithy my lad, In the midst of Arcadian beauty—an beauty, You mustn't forget (the reflection is sad) What is due to your Country and Duty—and Duty. That's why I have brought down this Holiday Task. Though slumber-inviting the weather—the weather, I'll turn my true hands, whilst in sunshine I bask, To the use of the brush and wash-leather—wash-leather! It's got a bit rusty from sheer want of use; Though they tell me I'm promptish at pouncing—at pouncing. Ah me! E'en an angel comes in for abuse, Or me they would not be denouncing—denouncing. A crocodile's sure to be down on the Gag, And Harcourt's a fair alligator—ligator; He's awfully wide in the jaw, for a wag, But I'll tie up the would-be dictator—dictator! They're out without muzzles, the whole noisy pack, (I wish some sharp Bobby would run 'em in—run 'em in,) But I'll be prepared for them when they come back. The fight for free jaw I have done 'em in—done 'em in. Good gracious! One's duty to Country and Queen Cannot be well done, as all know, by a—know, by a Man amidst yelpings of furious spleen, Suggestive of sheer hydrophobia—phobia! And so, whilst sub tegmine fagi I sit, And pass in May sunshine a jolly day—jolly day, I think I'll just brush up this weapon a bit, And so make a good use of my holiday—holiday. They're bound to come back, and if barking they come, I'll be ready—and willing—to muzzle 'em—muzzle 'em. Dumb dogs may bite, but when this makes 'em dumb, To bite us, I fancy, will puzzle 'em—puzzle 'em! [Left smiling and scrubbing.
Mr. Dunthorne of Vigo Street is exhibiting a collection of "Atmospheric Notes," which are not, as Esoteric Buddhists might conclude, missives forwarded by astral current from a Mahatma, but a series of very charming pastels, by Mr. George Hitchcock. They are records of land, sea, and sky effects in Holland, characterised by a poetry and feeling, and a subtlety of colour that give equal pleasure to mind and eye. Mr. Punch predicts, that the fortunate possessor of any one of these Notes, will be in no hurry to change it.
"COUNTRY AND DUTY."
Mr. W. H. S. "IT'S GOT A LITTLE RUSTY,—BUT I'LL HAVE IT READY IN TIME!"
AN UNKIND SUGGESTION.
Cabby (who has been paid his legal fare in threepenny bits and coppers). "Where did yer get this Lot from, eh? Been a robbin' the Child's Money-Box?"
ROBERT AT GUILDHALL.
Well, if we aint bin and had a fine time of it at Gildhall this last week or two, it's a pitty! What the pore harf-starved County Counsellors must have thort of it all, it isn't for me to say, and how they all felt when the ginerous old Copperashun tossed 'em a few dozzen tickets to skrambel for, when the great Mr. Stanley came to supper, of course I carnt tell, but them few as I knowed seemed to find their way to my refreshment department as if by hinstinkt. I didn't, of course, hear the grate Traweller's grand speech, but I'm told as my pore namesake, Sir Robert Fowler M.P.'s face was a site to see while he lissened to sitch a descripshun of his Quaker Friends as he probberbly never heard afore.
There was grate complaints made about the want of enuff wittles and drink, but anyone who seed, as I did, the fust rush for 'em by the hungry mob, couldn't have been much surprised at that. Why, I myself seed, with my two estonished eyes, one gent, as I spose he called hisself, take up a hole dish of most lovely Hoyster Pattys, and skoop out all the Hoysters with a spoon, and then return the hemty Pattys from whence they came! Feeling as I couldn't be of no more use after there was nothink left for me to hand to the fresh mob as kept on arriving, I quietly warked off, and made my way to the supper-room, where the hemenent Traweller was aswaging the pangs of hunger with reel Turtel Soup and setterer. Ah! what a contrast! Plenty of everythink, and plenty of room to enjoy it.
With that abundant kindness as so distinguishes him, the Lord Mare acshally hintroduced me to the Ero of the Heavening, who kindly shook hands with me, and hoped as how as we shood meet again, which I can quite bleeve if he thinks as it allers includes reel Turtel Soup, and setterer. Rayther different living to what he has bin accustomed to for 3 years parst, pore Feller! They tell me as he as bin to the Mountins of the Moon. Evins! ow did he get back? By balloon. But I don't kwite bleeve horl I eers.
But on the following Friday there wasn't not no xceptions to anythink, and everrybody, from the Prince of Wales hisself, down to the werry umblest Postman or Sorter, left that nobel old Hall, estonished, and delited, and appy.
And no wunder, for, by the combined efforts of the hole Copperashun and its werry numerus Staff, and the hole Army of Postmen, and Tellacram Men, and all manner of Sorters, and Stampers, St. Martin's-le-Grand was removed boddily to Gildall, and everything that was ever done in the one place was dun in the other before the estonished eyes of sum two thousand of us, ewen includin four-horse Male Coaches, with sacks of letters, and reel Gards with reel Horns, which they blowed most butifully. It was a gloreus Jewbelee! I'm that bizzy I hardly noes wich way to turn first, so no more at pressunt from yores trewly,
Robert.
Regent's Circus.
OUR NEW DUKE.
Air—"The Widdy Malone."
Did ye hear of the Duke of Athlone? Ohone! He's a son of the Heir to the Throne Full grown. Of a prince quite a pictur', Is young Albert Victor, Who'll now as the Duke of Athlone Be known, He'll be the Great Gun of Athlone!