Extract from Lady's Correspondence: " OUR FLAT. WE HAD SOME EXCELLENT MUSI -IN FACT, OUR RECEPTION WAS A COMPLETE SUCCESS. CIANS. I DARESAY YOU WILL WONDER WHERE WE PUT THEM, WITH SUCH A CROWD OF PEOPLE; BUT WE MANAGED CAPITALLY!" WANTED, Young Lady, of Prepossessing Appearance, to act as NURSERY DOG-WALKER to Fox-terrier Puppies, occasionally accompanied by Owner. Highest references and photo required. Must be able to play piano, sing, cook, do needlework, and speak at least four foreign languages. Apply to BENEDICT, No. 1, The Flats, Barking.. GENTLEWOMAN (middle-aged), of Sound Principles and Moderate Views, required as DAILY COMPANION to Invalid Collie. One Sunday in the Month free. Duties would include use of softsoap, combing, and cat-shooing. Send dated testimonials to HOUSEKEEPER, 10, Fleabitten Row, Houndsditch. GOVERNESS (Finishing), who has had Previous Experience in Dog-walking, WANTED immediately, to superintend the education of high-spirited Toy TERRIER. Will be required to pay special attention to Deportment, and Behaviour in the Park, or out Driving. Sympathetic Treatment and Tact indispensable. Address X., The Ladies' Kennel Club. SITUATIONS REQUIRED. STRICT DISCIPLINARIAN, accustomed to the use of the Whip and Muzzle, is at present Disengaged. Will accept Visiting or Resident appointment. Method never known to fail with the most Rabid or Refractory Pupils. HOLIDAY for thirteen guineas! Personally-conducted Canine Travelling Parties now being formed, under Supervision of Experienced LADY-GUIDE. All parts of the East End and Belgravia visited. Street-fights arranged. Bull-dogs and Bloodhounds on reduced Terms. Lectures given (with demonstration) in course of the Tour, to Butcher-boys, Postmen, and others. Unrivalled Opportunity for Co-OPERATIVE EDUCATION. YOUNG WIDOW, good looking, without encumbrance, and with a moderate Income of her own, is anxious to adopt PUPPY. Is a Member of the Dogs' Toilet Club. Can teach Music, French, and Dancing. Has a loving heart, and would travel with any Dear Creature. THE RUDDY YOUNG SLAUGHTERMAN. ["Life is forced to believe that within a year the reading public will be so sick of Bluggy' fiction that they won't look at it."-"Droch" in New York" Life."] Air-" The Jolly Young Waterman." I AND have you not heard of the ruddy young slaughterman, He handled its edge with such fiendish dexterity, He looked so fierce, and slew so steadily, For critical liking he little did care, Whilst our slaughterman captured the youthful and fair. A change in the fashion came in without warning, If dropped by the young and tabooed by the fair? The Queen's Highway. Infuriated Cyclist (after a collision with a fast-trotting dog-cart). shall summon you to-morrow! I've as much right on the road as you, Jehu ! Irate Driver. And I shall summon you! This thoroughfare's mine as well as yours, let me tell you, Scorcher! Pedestrian (who has been nearly killed by the collision, and is lying prostrate after leing cannoned on to the path, very feebly). And what about me, gentlemen? Have I any right of way? SENTIMENT FOR A CRICKET CLUB DINNER.-May the British Umpire rule the wide world over. Labby Lubin (to Chamberlain Colin). "TELL ME, SHEPHERD, HAVE YOU SEEN MY FLORA PASS THIS WAY { Message from Dr. Harris to Cecil Rhodes. -"I have already sent FLORA to convince J. CHAMBERLAIN."-(Telegram No. 6. See Times' Report, May 19.) 255 "WHEN I got the cholera it was three in the morning. I thought I was dying. So I got up, went to my desk, and settled all my worldly affairs, carried my last instructions to KEIR in her clothes and went out to confession and commubed, put on my nion." Here, in a couple of sentences, is indicated the manner of living of the rare woman whose history is written in The Romance of Isabel Lady Burton (HUTCHINSON & Co.), told in part by herself, in part by W. H. WILKINS. The collaboration supplies excellent reading, competing in interest with any ordinary novel of the year. It is the story of a passionate-natured, yet clear-headed, practical-minded woman, mated with one of the oddest men of the century, a soldier of fortune, whose inclination and duties called him to the remote My Baronite doubts whether BURTON corners of the earth. was quite such a god-like creature as he seemed to when the glistening eyes of his loving wife were turned upon him. Amongst her other qualities Lady BURTON is a graphic writer. Thanks to the discernment of Mr. WILKINS, who in this and other respects has done his work admirably, we get bright glimpses of Brazil, Portugal, Teneriffe, and other places now first given to the world. As to her account of her visit to Madeira and Teneriffe, Mr. WILKINS states that her husband would not allow her to publish them. To have one BURTON in the book market was probably enough for him, and the wife, as was her manner in this and many analogous circumstances indicated in her story, uncomplainingly submitted. "It was a habit with the BURTONS all through their lives," Mr. WILKINS writes, "that whenever they were leaving England for any length of time BURTON started first in light marching order to prospect the place, leaving his wife behind to pay, pack, and bring up the heavy baggage in the rear." An admirable arrangement for the husband. In deJawkins. No; but it's very appropriate. He was the best velopment suitable to varied countries it is common to Oriental It seemed quite proper to the races and the untutored savage. unselfish nature of the woman, who, when she thought she long distance runner when I was at Cambridge, and I expect was dying of cholera, got out of bed, made things comfortable he 's kept up his form now. for everyone else when she should have passed away, and then went forth to pray for the repose of her own soul. To know Lady BURTON as she stands revealed in this book is a privilege calculated to make women proud, and man even humbler than THE BARON DE B.-W. is his wont. In a Fleet Street Tavern. Jawkins (to PAWKINS). What's become of RAWKINS? I haven't Pawkins. Don't you know that he went out as a volunteer seen him lately. to Greece? A Distinction with a Difference. Disappointed Porter (to Mate). I thought you said he was a gentleman. Mate. No, that's where you mistook me. I said he was a gent. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE GAME OF ADVERBS. (A COUNTRY-HOUSE TRAGI-COMEDY, IN TWO PARTS.) PART I. SCENE-The Drawing-room at Dripstone Manor, a stately Jacobean mansion recently acquired by Mr. JOSEPH SHUTTLEWORTH (of SHUTTLEWORTH AND CLACK, Carpet Manufacturers, Yarnminster). It is towards dusk in early October. Mrs. SHUTTLEWORTH, a plump, goodhumoured-looking matron of about fifty, is discovered with her children, viz., GRACE, a rather prim and precise young woman of twentythree; FLOSSIE, a pretty and lively girl of eighteen; CONNIE, twelve, and COLIN, ten. With them are GILLIAN PINCENEY, a High School friend of GRACE's; IVY GORING, a Boarding-school chum of FLOSSIE'S, who are staying at the Manor; and the younger children's Governess, Miss MARKHAM. Mr. SHUTTLEWORTH, fifty-five, florid and prosperous-looking, enters with his son BOB, twenty-one, of Eton and Cambridge. Both are in shooting things. "Is Mrs. Shuttleworth at home, my good man?" Mrs. Shuttleworth (to them). So you're back at last! I've just sent away the tea. But if you'd like some, I could easilyMr. Shutt. Not for me, LOUISA, thanks. BOB and I had something as we came through the dining-room. That Jack-o'-dandy friend of BoB's, DORMER, may like a cup, though, for all I can say. Mrs. Shutt. But what's become of Mr. DORMER ? Mr. Shutt. Gone upstairs to titivate, I expect. Bless you, you wouldn't catch him coming in here in his shooting toggery! Bob. Fact is, Mater, the Governor's rather riled with DORMER for saying on the way home that, on the whole, he thought the safest thing to be was a pheasant. DORMER didn't mean anything by it, Sir. Mr. Shutt. It's my belief he did. And considering how confoundedly bad the light 's been this afternoon, and that I never took to shooting at all till late in life, I don't call myself a particularly poor shot. [MAY 29, 1897. Mrs. Shutt. I can't say I quite take to your friend Mr. DOR- Flossie. I'm certain he 's looking down on us secretly all the time. all. He's a nailing good fellow. Capital company! Bob. What bosh! You don't understand old DORMER, that's only be got to come. Mrs. Shutt. You said he would keep us all amused if he could him, I ought to know. But so far, I can't sayand away the best mimic I ever heard. He could imitate everyBob. Well, Mater, after being at the same house at Eton with body and everything. And all I can tell you is, that he was far Flossie. Up to now he has only favoured us with an imitation of a disagreeable stuck-up pig. It's life-like-but still it is beginning to pall. (She starts as DORMER lounges in; he has dressed for dinner, except that he is wearing a black smoking-coat.) Oh, Mr. DORMER, you did startle me so! You look exactly like a curate. Dormer. And are curates such alarming objects? But you're all in the dark, here. Flossie. Yes. We thought you would come in and be brilliant. Dormer. I'm afraid I can't compete with the ordinary methods of illumination. I'm not in the humour for this sort of thing. (To himself.) Wish this girl would see that Mr. Shutt. (to himself). Can't do with this young fellow! (Aloud, to his wife.) I'm off to my study, LOUISA. Got some letters to write. Dormer (to himself). On the sofa with his eyes shut! Only [He goes out. wish I could slip out, too-but they might think it rather casual. (Aloud, to FLOSSIE.) You haven't told me why you charged me with looking clerical? Can't say I feel complimented. Flossie. Oh, it doesn't go any deeper than a buttoned-up coat and white tie. And you might have a worse compliment than being compared to a clergyman! Mrs. Shutt. Talking of clergymen, my dear, that reminds me the Rector has never called yet. Considering we have been here six weeks, and attended church regularly every Sunday morning, I do think he might have found time to return the civility before this! Dormer. If it was the Rector I had the privilege to hear last Sunday, impressing upon us the duty of cheerfulness in sepulchral tones that were calculated to draw howls from a china poodle, I should be inclined to think myself that the gaiety of the party has not suffered appreciably from his delay. Mrs. Shutt. Mr. POLYBLANK's pulpit manner is a little melancholy, certainly-he's a bachelor, poor man. he's very much looked up to; comes of a very good family, and But they tell me intimate with all the county folk, so perhaps he doesn't consider us good enough for him. Grace. Really, Mamma, you talk as if we were Pariahs! Most of the county people round here have called on us. What does it matter if Mr. POLYBLANK chooses to stay away? Mrs. Shutt. All the same, my dear, there's a sort of natural tie between the Rectory and the Manor which-not that I'm one to force my acquaintance on anybody. Still he might give us credit for not being downright savages, if we do come from Yarnminster! Flossie. There, Mother dear, that's enough of the Reverend POLY. I vote we have a game at something. Are you fond of games, Mr. DORMER ? Dormer. Indoor games? Er-not immoderately. The mere paralyses my faculties. I assure you I never can produce a single fact of being supplied with a slip of paper and a stumpy pencil, and required to compile a list of animals beginning with A, animal beginning with A. see to write. We might have a guessing game-where somebody Dormer. Ah, I think I could play at that. questions what celebrated historical person you're supposed to be. guessing game called " Adverbs." I've only the sketchiest idea of what sort of thing an adverb is. For Dormer. Good-goodly. I see now, Miss MARKHAM. Tremendous fun, I've no doubt. Miss Mark. (annoyed). I was about to explain how it's played. One of the party goes out, and the rest agree in what manner they are all to receive him when he returns-" admiringly," "affectionately," and so on. Dormer. And he comes in pretending he's somebody else? Miss Mark. He can if he chooses, of course. But all he need do is to ask questions all round, and from the way in which they are answered he guesses what the adverb is. Now do you see, Mr. DORMER ? Dormer. I think I have grasped the idea. I don't mind volunteering to go out of the room, at all events. Grace. Very well. You go out, Mr. DORMER, and just wait about in the hall till we call you in. Dormer. Delighted. (To himself, as he goes out.) It's just possible I may be a little hard of hearing. Flossie (after he has closed the door). Now, what adverb shall it be? Do let's make it something difficult! Miss Pinceney. Why not something which would let us show him what we think of him-"Candidly"? "Contemptuously"? Bob. That would be rather rough on him, Miss PINCENEY. I asked him down here, you know, and really Mrs. Shutt. Yes, my dear, it wouldn't be kind to make any visitor of ours uncomfortable, would it? Flossie. He makes us uncomfortable. He's as rude as ever he can be! Grace (thoughtfully). Why not make the adverb "rudely"? We could be rude without being personal. Mrs. Shutt. If you're sure he won't misunderstand Bob. Oh, he'll understand all right. After all, it's only a game. "Rudely" will do first rate. I'll call him in. IN THE ENTRANCE-HALL. The Rev. Peregrine Polyblank (at the glazed doors). I wonder if they heard me ring. (He descries DORMER in the gloom.) Ah, at last! He doesn't seem to see me- Perhaps I'd better(He goes in.) Er-I am the Rector-Mr. POLYBLANK. Is Mrs. SHUTTLEWORTH at home, my good man? Dormer (stiffly). I've no doubt Mrs. SHUTTLEWORTH will be pleased to see you, Sir, if you wait a moment. (To himself, as he passes on to the library.) Confounded cheek, taking me for the butler! But this will put that adverb foolery out of their heads, thank goodness. I shall get a nap in peace, now! The Rector (alone, to himself). Painful to enter the old place again. I miss those poor dear HARDUPPS at every turn. To find strangers in the familiar rooms-it will be an ordeal, but I could not put it off any longer. Why doesn't the butler return? Does this good lady mean to keep me here awaiting her pleasure? If these are manufacturing manners- But I must beware of prejudice. No doubt there is some good reason for her delay. After all, people may have made a fortune out of carpets without being necessarily lacking in the refinements and courtesies of well-bred society. Bob (opening the drawing-room door). We're ready for you now, old chap. You can come in as soon as you like! The Rector (to himself). "Old chap"! I" can come in "!. Well, well, I suppose this is the Yarnminster idea of cordiality. A little crude, perhaps but well-meant. [He enters the drawing-room. END OF PART I. INTERVIEWS WITH INANIMATE OBJECTS. A MATINÉE HAT. I MANAGED to get hold of it when it was off duty, so to speak, and at once broached a most delicate subject. "What do you think of the recent legislation in America (New York, isn't it?) abolishing the matinée hat?" "It is only one other instance of the supreme folly which crops up at times in whole sections of the human race. Nations, like individuals, occasionally lose their heads. But what can you expect from a people which has rejected the Arbitration Treaty ?" "I can quite understand your wounded feelings, but are you not sometimes an obstruction? Is there nothing to be said for the point of view-literally the point of view of those who wish to see the play when they go to the theatre ?" "There are none such! Matinée going is a social function, in which the 'play' is of no more importance than is the musical accompaniment to conversation in a fashionable drawing-room." "That is a hard doctrine Why, then, should all men clamour for your destruction, if they have no real wish to see the performance ?" "My poor friend, are you indeed so dull of comprehension ? Can be hired for Garden Parties "The head?" "No, the fashion." "Yet I do not gather that artists are prepared to worship the matinée hat as a type of beauty. How is that?" "The same answer holds good-jealousy. They have no reverbe truly great till the Royal Academy does its duty and opens a ence for anything that is not an oil-painting. England will never section for artistic hats, and possibly bonnets. I can conjure up hitherto unimagined heights and depths of loveliness symphonies in silks and satins, and glorious visions of vegetables and flowers, contrasting with the gleaming, waving trophies of ostrich, humcelebrate each exhibit in incisive verse. ming-bird, and egret. RUDYARD KIPLING might be engaged to But there are other poets beside RUDYARD KIPLING. A feather, a wire, and a stack of straw. How does that strike you for a neat epigrammatic description?" "Do you approve of the slaughter of birds for personal adornment? I am truly grieved if such is the case." "Nonsense! You should not indulge in silly sentiment. What is a heron or a kingfisher compared to a HAT?" How could I reply? "PLACE AUX DAMES."-Not at Cambridge University. |