Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Vol. 104 March 25 1893 by Various

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Volume 104, March 25th 1893

edited by Sir Francis Burnand

SMALL BY DEGREES.

There was once a Battalion of Volunteers with its full complement of field, company, and non-commissioned officers, and rank and file. And according to experts the Regiment was a most valuable addition to the national defence. One day a General, covered over with gold lace and wearing a cocked hat, rode up to the Colonel and called him out.

"Colonel," said the General, "we are thinking of giving over your command to a C.O. of a D?p?t Centre. It won't interfere with you much and give you less to do. You may still call yourself Colonel--not that I call you so myself. I mean off parade."

But the Colonel did not seem to see it, and so he sent in his papers and rode away.

Then the General from the War Office called up the two remaining Field Officers.

"Majors" said he, "it seems to us we can help you a good deal by appointing a Major from a service battalion as Adjutant. Then you can rank beneath him, and he can look after you and the two half battalions you each of you are supposed to command. You may still call yourselves Majors--not that I call you so myself. I mean off parade."

Then the General from the War Office called up the Company Officers.

"Gentlemen," said he, "we shall continue the snubbing, of which you have had so much experience. You will do all sorts of new work, and go to all sorts of fresh expense in the near future. Not that it will increase your dignity--not a bit of it. However, you may still call yourselves Captains and Lieutenants--not that I call you so myself. I mean off parade."

But the Company Officers did not seem to see it, so they sent in their papers and marched away. Then the General from the War Office called up the rest of the Regiment.

"Now, Non-commissioned Officers and Men," said he, "you have no one to command you, and no one to pay for your marches out, prizes, and the rest of it. But don't let that bother you. You may still call yourselves Soldiers--not that I call you so myself. I mean off parade."

Then the Officer from the War Office rode towards Pall Mall.

"It won't interfere with me much," said he, "and give the Department less to do. And I can still call myself General--though I scarcely deserve the title, either on or off parade!"

HOW IT STRIKES "THE CONTEMPORARY."

Despotic Dons' dominion Still subjugates us all, They scoff at our opinion, Our purposes miscall; Will no deliverer appear, And is it vainly, as we fear, We hold our meetings every year Within St. James's Hall?

Our wrongs, if brought to knowledge, Would surely move your hearts, Degreeless from her College The Wrangler-ess departs; And shall not too the maids, who can Give all the usages of , As well as any living man Be Bachelors of Arts?

Persuasive or abusive We fail our point to gain, Disgracefully exclusive These ancient seats remain: But yet a future we foresee When Women will the rulers be, And Men will beg a Pass-degree, Will beg, and beg in vain!

THE WITLER'S WISION OF WENGEANCE.

Mr. WITLER, the elder, gave vent to an extraordinary sound, which, being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a gasp, nor a howl, nor a hoot, nor a hiss, nor a shout, nor a shriek, yet seemed to partake in some degree of the character of all these inarticulate laryngeal exercises. It was a big vocal blend, and a stentorian; it made him pant and turn apoplectically purple in the face, it shook the house, and very nearly "brought it down."

Mr. SWIGSLOP STIGGINS, a leading Shepherd of the Nonconformist Rechabite Flock, unwarned by this nondescript sound, which he understood to betoken remorse or repentance, in fact, an awakening of the "Nonconformist Conscience," in a somewhat unlikely quarter, looked about him, rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then mechanically uttering a guttural "Hear! Hear!" and then, walking across the room to a well-remembered pigeon-hole, took thence an official-looking scroll, sat down, formally unfolded it, cleared his throat, and began with pompous complacency to read aloud its title, preamble, clauses, and provisions, compulsory regulations, and peremptory prohibitions to the apparently semi-asphyxiated Mr. WITLER.

"SAMMY," said Mr. WITLER, "put my cap on tight for me!" SAM dutifully adjusted the cap more firmly on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before, tumbled Mr. STIGGINS through the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the street, the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in vehemence rather than diminishing every time the boot was lifted.

It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the water-drinker writhing in Mr. WITLER'S grasp, and his whole frame quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession; it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. WITLER, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. STIGGINS'S head in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there until he was half suffocated.

"SAMMY" , "help me in, and fill me a stiff glass o' Speshal Scotch; for I'm out of breath, my boy!"

PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL.

THIRD ACT.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Plea of the Party Man.

FAR TOO PREVIOUS.

TO IRISH LOYALISTS AND PROTESTANTS.--DEATH BEFORE SLAVERY!

Poor Political Economy!

Oh! to waste half the time asking Questions is grand! "Supply" is not in it, just now, with "Demand"!

"ALL A-BLOWING!"

WILL WATERPROOF'S MONOLOGUE.

O pale Head-Waiter at "The Cock," How changed for you and me Is this sad time! 'Tis five o'clock, Go, fetch a cup of tea; My pint of port is changed to that-- Weak COWPER'S washy liquor! Did tea make Cellarer SIMON fat, Or cheer Bray's jolly Vicar?

No more libations to the Muse! Will cocoa make her kind? Will water whisper words to use? Will milk make up my mind, When writing melancholy rhymes, Of days not half forgotten, Before these daft teetotal times When common-sense seems rotten?

We fret, we fume, we scoff, we sneer, And evil fate upbraid; Your care is for the ginger-beer, The milk, the lemonade. To come and go, and come again With coffee that you keep hot, And watched by silent gentlemen, That trifle with the tea-pot.

Live long, for water to the head Was never known to fly, Your flabby face will not grow red, Nor will your washy eye. Live long as you can bear these woes, Whilst bigots thus defy sense, Till watery Death's last Veto shows Life's quite suspended licence.

"Aquarius," when you shall cease Teetotal drinks to quaff, And end life's not repairing lease, Might be your epitaph. No carved cross-pipes, no pint-pot's wreath, Shall show you past to Heaven; But water-pipes, and, underneath, A milk-pot neatly graven.

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

"Usually an old woman who does it," he added.

"But this is Sir FREDERICK MILNER, Bart.," I said.

"Um!" said RUSSELL, with odd significance in the observation.

Turns out the apprehension groundless. MILNER only wants to know why Police at Leeds and Bradford should enjoy ultimate resources of civilisation in respect of "SCAITH'S silent boots," whilst London Policemen not so privileged? MILNER tells me his earliest idea was to get a pair of the boots, put 'em on, and surprise SPEAKER by approaching with noiseless tread from behind Chair, lean over his shoulder, and suddenly say, "Boo!" That, MILNER thought, would be conclusive proof of the efficacy of the boots as making the tread inaudible. On other hand, SPEAKER mightn't like it. So, by way of compromise, brought down odd boot in tail-pocket of his coat, and shook it at HOME SECRETARY when he put question.

ASQUITH behaved very well under trying circumstances. Did not visibly blench; answered, in off-hand manner, that London Police had had opportunity of substituting the silent boot for those in ordinary use, and had not availed themselves of it. Some had objected on domestic grounds. Female friends engaged in responsible posts in certain households on their beat were accustomed to the sound of their footfall on the pavement, and would not have things ready if they approached like rose-leaves flitting over shaven lawns. Others, assuming higher ground, resented silent boot as taking unfair advantage of the burglar or footpad. "Give a 'ardworking cove a fair chanst, that's my motter," one honest fellow in blue said to HOME SECRETARY when Right Hon. Gentleman brought silent boot under his notice. No use attempting to run counter to feeling of this kind. Conclusion in which DICKY TEMPLE heartily concurred.

"Silent boot," he said, "forced upon Metropolitan Police might play in history a part analogous to that of the greased cartridges on which we slipped into the Indian Mutiny."

MILNER saw it was evidently no use, so returning boot to coat-tail pocket, moodily regarded Treasury Bench.

But there were consolations. SQUIRE of MALWOOD, asked by Prince ARTHUR what he now thought of prospects of reading Home-Rule Bill Second Time before Easter, admitted impossibility; triumphant shout from Opposition. Not in vain had they sat through morning sitting on Friday discussing the hour at which they should adjourn on Saturday. Not without recompense had they taken care that when Saturday came it should see accomplished the minimum of business. Tussling with Mr. G. ever since Session opened; in first rounds he came off best; drew first blood; seemed likely to carry everything with him; Opposition pulled themselves together; went at it hammer and tongs; and now it is Mr. G. who has retired to corner; the sponge is in requisition on the Treasury Bench; the air around it redolent of the perfume of the indispensable vinegar.

"Guinness will go up a point or two on this," said ELLIS ASHMEAD BARTLETT, Knight, who has taken Irish securities under his wing. "Go down a pint or two, you mean," said WILFRID LAWSON, who is irreclaimable.

Don't know how long this passion of appreciation will last; interesting to observe while yet with us. A lull all round in sympathy with soothing moments of CHANCELLOR of EXCHEQUER. Even J. W. LOWTHER'S perturbed mind at rest. Knows now, to a fraction, how many lead-pencils are annually in use in directing destinies of British Empire. Rumour current that origin of this inquiry was a little undertaking promoted by Hon. Member in substitution of proscribed word-guessing competitions. Sweep got up; ?5 entry; every man to guess at precise figure of lead-pencil census; the one coming nearest to clear the pool. LOWTHER tells me not word of truth in report. In putting his question as to number of lead-pencils in use, and in sticking to it in spite of jeers of bystanders and guilty reticence of Minister, he was actuated simply by motives of public policy; desired, in short, to live up to standard of late lamented Leader and do his duty to his QUEEN and Country.

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