Hygeia. All civilised mankind are now worshippers at my modernised shrine; but, unhappily, like the devotees of other altars, they are sometimes a little too corybantic in their cultus. Mr. Punch. Most true, HYGEIA! To dedicate to thee, benignant Nymph, Nay, rather 'tis that gallinaceous pest, Whose life is one long Cock-a-doodle-do! But here, ESCULAPIUS, we are far from the shindy of Sensationalism; here, HYGEIA, the dawn creeps upon us over yon shadowy hills without the devil's tattoo of puffing quackdom; here, Dr. KocH, all is as calm and thought-aiding as those lonely Klausthal Mountains where you first meditated war upon the Bacillus. Esculapius. Here is wine of a vintage that Clubdom could not match, and that Sir WILFRID the Water-worshipper could hardly demur to. Let us drink the health and the ultimate triumph of the illustrious Bacillicide! Mr. Punch. With all my heart-though 'tis early for so potent a potation. In spite of the quackish and quizzical, As lasting as sure, O'er the saddest of maladies physical! [They drink. Esculapius. Hark! my bird in jubilant strains greets the dawn. May it mean the dawn of Health to the disease-harassed world of men whom I loved, and suffered from angry Jove for aiding. Your devoted dog barketh briskly, Mr. PUNCH. Mr. Punch. As though he beheld the angry spectres or spooks of the malignant Microbes driven forth with the vanishing darkness. TOBY's Master is also, in his way, a slayer of Microbes, the parasitic mental pests, the soul-corrupting Bacilli of palsying Humbug, and feverish Folly, and cancerous Cant. Foes, Doctor, as multitudinous as ubiquitous, and as difficult of extirpation as any of the physical disease-germs that we are all hoping your long-sought lymph will finally defeat. As you labour in your Hygienic Museum in Kloster Strasse, so do I in my Sanctum in Fleet Street, in the interests of disordered Mankind. Would you study my doctrine, and learn my infallible specifics? Then read this! VOCES POPULI. AT THE MILITARY EXHIBITION. An Unreasonable Old Lady (arriving breathless, with her grandson and niece). This'll be the place the balloon goes up from, I wouldn't miss it for anything! Put the child up on that bench, MARIA; we'll stand about here till it begins. Maria. But I don't see no balloon nor nothing. [Which, as the foliage blocks out all but the immediate foreground, is scarcely surprising. The U. O. L. No more don't Ibut it stands to reason there wouldn't be so many looking on if there wasn't something to see. We're well enough where we are, and I'm not going further to fare worse to please nobody; so you may do as you like about it. [MARIA promptly avails herself of this permission. The U. O. L. (a little later). Well, it's time they did something, I'm sure. Why the people seem all moving off! and where's that girl MARIA got to ? Ah, here you are! So you found you were no better off ?-Next time, p'raps, you'll believe what I tell you. Not that there's any War Balloon as I can see! Maria. Oh, there was a capital view from where I was-out in the open there. The U. O. L. Why couldn't you say so before? Out in the open! Let's go there then-it's all the same to me! Maria (with an undutiful giggle). It's all the same now-wherever you go, 'cause the balloon's gone up. The U. O. L. Gone up! What are you telling me, MARIA? Maria. I see it go-it shot up ever so fast and quite steady, and the people in the car all waved their 'ats to us. I could see a arm a waving almost till it got out of sight. The U. O. L. And me and this innercent waiting here on the seat like lambs, and never dreaming what was goin' on! Oh, MARIA, however you'll reconcile it to your conscience, I don't know! Maria. Why, whatever are you pitching into me for! The U. O. L. It's not that it's any partickler pleasure to me, seeing a balloon, though we did get our tea done early to be in time for it-it's the sly deceitfulness of your conduck, MARIA, which is all the satisfaction I get for coming out with you,-it's the feeling that-well, there, I won't talk about it! [In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunate MARIA wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented. IN THE BUILDING. An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock. First Soldier (to his Companion) Lot o' work in that, yer know! Second Soldier. Yes. (Thoughtfully) Not but what-(becoming critical-if I'd been doin' it myself, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em. First S. (regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it the man who made that 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did-but there's no pleasing some parties! Second S. (apologetically). Well, I ain't denying the Art in it, am I? First Woman. I do call that 'andsome, SARAH. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what alland all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman BROWN," too! [Reading placard. Second W. Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though. 66 First W. But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do! (Reading) Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth!" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money. Second W. Yes, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud want to take 'em out. First W. It ought to be bought up by Gover'ment, that it oughtthey're well able to afford it. A select party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently Her Son (gloomily). Cost? Why, about two days' pay for every man in the Service! His Mother. Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced for that thing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder? [She sniffs. Her Daughter. I expect it will be crystal, Mother. VOL. XCIX. Her Mother. Very likely, my dear, but-glass or crystal-I see no sense in it! Daughter. Oh, it's absurd, of course-still, this figure isn't badly done, is it supposed to represent St. GEORGE carrying the Dragon? Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon! Mother. Ah, well, I hope HER MAJESTY will be better pleased with it than I am, that's all. [After which they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit, consisting of a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted with fragments of regimental mess-china set in gilded cement. Before a large mechanical clock, representing a fortress, which is striking. Trumpets sound, detachments of wooden soldiers march in and out of gateways, and parade the battlements, clicking, for a considerable time. A Spectator (with a keen sense of the fitness of things). What-all that for on'y 'alf-past five! ... OVERHEARD IN THE AMBULANCE DEPARTMENT. listic surroundings). All the faces screwed up to suffering, you see! Spectators (passing in front of groups of models arranged in reaWhat a nice patient expression that officer on the stretcher has! Yes, they've given him a wax head-some of them are only papier maché.... Pity they couldn't get nearer their right size in 'elmets, though, ain't it?... There's one chap's given up the ghost!... I know that stuffed elephant-he comes from the Indian Jungle at the Colinderies!...I do think it's a pity they couldn't get something more like a mule than this wooden thing! Why, it's quite flat, and it's ears are only leather, nailed on!... You can't tell, my horse and a donkey-engine, don't you know! dear; it may be a peculiar breed out there cross between a towel IN THE INDIAN JUNGLE SHOOTING-GALLERY. At the back, amidst tropical scenery, an endless procession of remarkably undeceptive rabbits of painted tin are running rapidly up and down an inclined plane. Birds jerk painfully through the air above, and tin rats, boars, tigers, lions, and ducks, all of the same size, glide swiftly along grooves in the middle distance. In front, Commissionnaires are busy loading rifles for keen sportsmen, who keep up a lively but somewhat ineffective fusillade. 'Arriet (to 'ARRY). They 'ave got it up beautiful, I must say. Do you get anything for 'itting them? 'Arry. On'y the honour. man). No, I ain't seen him 'it anything yet, my son; but you watch. A Father (to intelligent Small Boy, in rear of Nervous SportsThat's a rabbit he's aiming at now.... Ah, missed him! Small Boy. 'Ow d'yer know what the gentleman's a-aiming at, eh, Father? Father. 'Ow? Why, you notice which way he points his gun. [The N. S. fires again-without results. Small Boy. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [The N. S. gives it up in disgust. Enter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits. First 'Arry. 'Ullo! I'm on to this. 'Ere, Guv'nor, 'and us a gun. I'll show yer 'ow to shoot! [He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of white paper. Second 'Arry. Go in, JIM! You got yer markin'-paper ready, anyhow. [Delighted guffaws from the other 'Arries, in which JIM joins vaguely. Third' Arry. I'll lay you can't knock a rabbit down! Jim. I'll lay I can! [Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on undisturbed. the feathers floy! Second'Arry (jocosely). Never mind. You peppered 'im. I sor Third' Arry. You'd ha' copped 'im if yer'd bin a bit quicker. Jim (annoyed). They keep on movin' so, they don't give a bloke no chornce! Second 'Arry. 'Ave a go at that old owl. [Alluding to a tin representation of that fowl which remains stationary among the painted rushes. Third'Arry. No-see if you can't git that stuffed bear. He's on'y a yard or two away! An Impatient'Arry (at doorway). 'Ere, come on! Ain't you shot enough? Shake a leg, can't yer, JIM? Second' Arry. He's got to kill one o' them rabbits fust. Or pot a tin lion, JIM ? You ain't afraid! Jim. No; I'm goin' to git that owl. He's quiet any way. [Fires. The owl falls prostrate. Second'Arry. Got 'im! Owl's orf! JIM, old man, you must stand drinks round after this! [Exeunt' Arries, to celebrate their victory in a befitting fashion, as Scene closes in. SOME talk of WAGNER chorus, of war's wild rataplan, Or of the well thumped tom-tom of happy Hindostan; The swart-skinned Nubian's reed-pipe hath an ear-piercing note, Who prates of calm Nirvaña, of quietism's joys? Are you at prayer, asleep or sick? What odds? You're forced to list They throng with thunderous tramplings the city thoroughfare, O raucous throat, O leathern lung, O big belabouring fist! THE GREAT ADVANTAGE OF HAVING THE ELECTRIC LIGHT "BROUGHT TO YOUR VERY DOOR," WITHOUT ANY PREVIOUS NOTICE, ON THE IDENTICAL DAY, TOO, WHEN YOU ARE GIVING A PARTY, AND YOUR FRIENDS WON'T BE ABLE TO GET WITHIN SOME YARDS OF YOUR HOUSE, AND THEN, SO NICE FOR LADIES IF IT RAINS! "A Nuisance! Nay, my children!", ('Tis Grandam Justice speaks.) The noise may torture sufferers with sickness well-nigh spent ; At least that seems the notion on which these seers insist, WEEK BY WEEK. THE Season has now only some three weeks to run. Already careful dowagers are having themselves packed in chintz or old newspapers, and fathers of feminine families are beginning to emerge from the lurking places in which they had sought refuge with their cheque-books. The number of detrimentals has been calculated to amount to three times the number of first editions of the Star newspaper, plus a mean fraction of a child's Banbury cake, multiplied by the nod of a Duchess to a leader of Society in Peckham Rye. From the Canton of Koblinsky a report reaches us that the Deputy Grand Master of the Koblinsky Einspänner has met with a somewhat alarming accident. As he was going his rounds last week, accompanied by his faithful Pudelhund, he observed a mark lying on the pavement. On stooping to pick it up, he was unfortunately mistaken for a Bath bun by his canine companion, and before help could be secured he had been partly devoured. However, all that was left of him has been packed in ice, and forwarded, with the compliments of the Municipality, to the EMPEROR. The Great-Western Railway Company intend, it is said, to make unparalleled efforts to secure the comfort of those who may visit Henley Regatta during the present week. All the ordinary trains have been taken off, and special trains, timed to take at least halfan-hour longer, have been substituted for them. As a special concession, holders of first-class return tickets will be allowed to travel part of the distance by omnibus. At Twyford Junction the amusing game of follow-my-leader will be played by four locomotives and a guard's van. The winning locomotive will then steam on to Henley, and upon its return passengers will proceed as usual. Yesterday being the opening day of the Regatta, was observed as a holiday by the natives of Henley. The ancient ceremonial of "Prices up and money down," was, as usual, observed with proper solemnity by all the burgesses of the little Oxfordshire town. There was some boat-racing during the day; but it is beginning to be felt that a stop should be put to this barbarous survival of the dark ages. MODERN TYPES. (By Mr. Punch's Own Type Writer.) No. XV.-THE JACK OF ALL JOURNALISMS. elegant and recherché, whilst the dresses and jewels of Mrs. JIFFS are In order to become a successful Journalist of a certain sort, it is only necessary that a man should in early life provide bimself with a front as brazen as the trumpet which he blows to announce to the world his merits and his triumphs. It is, of course, essential that he should rid himself of any trace of sensitiveness that may remain to him after a youth about which the only thing certain is its complete obscurity, in order that no hint may be sufficiently broad to fit in with the tolerant breadth of his impudence, and no affront sufficiently pointed to pierce the skin with which Nature and his own industry have furnished him. Literary culture must be eschewed, for with literary culture come taste and discrimination-qualities by an actor or a manager, he will never allow the offence to fade, so which might fatally obstruct the path of this journalistic aspirant. For it must be assumed that in some of its later developments journalism has entirely cast off the reticence and the modesty which successive generations of censors have constantly held to have been characteristic of an age that is past. Indeed, while it is established that in 1850 the critics of the day fixed their thoughts with pleasure on the early years of the century, though they found nothing but abuse for the journalism of their own time, it is curious to note that many of those who hurl the shafts of ridicule and contempt at the present period have only words of praise for 1850. Without, however, going so far as these stern descendants of CATO, it may be affirmed that the porpoise-hided Jack of all Journalisms, as we know him, never had a greater power, nor exercised it over a larger scope with smaller scruple than to-day. It has been already said that the youth of the Jack of all Journalisms is lost in obscurity. It is obvious that he cannot have acquired his readiness of pen without much practice, but where the practice was obtained is a puzzle to which each of his enemies has a different key. Some say of him that he spent a year or two at a University, where he was noted for the unfailing regularity with which he sought the Society of the wealthy, imbibed strong drinks, and omitted to pay his debts. It is also In appearance the Jack of all Journalisms is not altogether pleasing. His early struggles against irresponsive editors have left their mark upon him, for having been compelled to seek consolation for disappointment by indulging in strong drinks, he never completely loses the habit which tells, of course, both upon his dress and temper. Though success, by bringing the pleasures of the table within his reach, has increased the rotundity of his figure, it has never been able to make his collars snowy or his conversation refined. He is often found upon the Committees of new Clubs which start with a blare of journalistic trumpets upon a chequered existence, only to perish in contempt a few years afterwards. But while they last he attends them in the hope of picking up a friend who may be valuable, or some gossip which he may turn to account. As rule, he affects the society of those who are intellectually dull in order that he may pass with them for a man of immense culture and unfathomable sagacity. Over the third long drink provided for him by an admiring associate of this sort, he will grow eloquent, and his conversation will sparkle with reminiscences of leading articles he may once have written, and anticipations of others that he proposes to write. Those who hear him on such occasions will opine that he is a man of genius, who is only prevented by the carelessness of a Gallio from becoming a statesman of the first rank. A little later he will rise still higher, and will become the almost recognised medium through which really fashionable intelligence is converted into common knowledge. In this alleged that he started a colourable University imitation of the journal which happened at that particular time to be the most highly coloured in London, and that, after struggling through two numbers of convulsive scurrility, the infant effort withered under the frown of the Authorities, who at the same time sent its founder down. Others, however, declare him to have been the offspring of a decayed purveyor of spurious racing | position he will allow nothing to escape him, and if one of the highest intelligence, who naturally sent his son to shift for himself after he persons in the land should invite six friends to dinner, their names had lost his last shirt in betting against one of his own prophecies. will on the following morning be known to the Jack of all JournalOthers again aver, and probably with equal accuracy, that he was at isms. It is unnecessary to say that in the course of this career he no time other than what he is when the world first becomes aware of acquires, not only notoriety, but enemies, who watch eagerly for the his existence-the blatant, cringing, insolent, able and disreputable false step that shall bring him to the ground. In spite of his craft, wielder of a pen which draws much of its sting and its profit from he is inevitably driven from boldness into rashness, and after waging the vanities and fears of his fellow-creatures. Be that as it may, he a fruitless war against rascals more accomplished than himself, he, somehow becomes a power. He attaches himself to many journals, with a courage that scarcely atones for his imprudence, enters the the editors of which he first pesters, afterwards serves, and always witness-box, and, a flood of light having been thrown upon his past despises. He may perhaps have dabbled in music, and caused a career, he finds himself for two nights blazoned in enormous letters penniless friend who is musical to write for small pay songs which on the posters of the evening papers, and is compelled, in the end, to he honours by attaching his own name to them as their composer. submit to an adverse verdict, and to retire, "it may be for years or Woe betide the unhappy aspirant to the honours of public singing it may be for ever," from the open practice of a profession in which who ignores the demand of this quasi-musical Turpin that she he had so distinguished himself. should sing his songs. For, having become in the meantime a musical critic, he will devote all his talents to the congenial task of abusing her voice in his organ-which is naturally the more powerful instrument of the two. Should she, however, submit to his extortionate requests, he will deem himself entitled to embitter the rest of her existence with his patronising commendation. However, before reaching this pitch, he will have made his mark as an interviewer and a picturesque social reporter. In the former capacity he will have hunted momentary celebrities into the sanctity of their rooms, whence, after exchanging two words with them, he will have emerged with two columns of conversation. In the latter capacity, he will create for himself and the readers of his paper a social circle, the members of which, bear the same relation to Society proper as a lurcher does to a pure-bred greyhound. For there are many so-called social sets which are select merely because few desire to enter and many to leave them, and to these the Jack of all Journalisms is often a prophet and a leader pointing the way to the promised land. Thus we learn, with surprise, at first, and afterwards with the yawn that comes of the constant repetition of an ascertained fact, that the receptions of Lady TIFFIN are a model of all that is ACCORDING TO A RECENT PRECEDENT. [Her Majesty's Servants are invited to cheer the Queen.-Official Invitation.] Soldiers. Not us-we want more food! Sailors. Belay there-give us more liberty ashore! redress our grievances! Postmen. Don't care a rap-groans as before-haven't changed our sentiments! business, and look after our pensions! Inland Revenue Receivers. No! That's the only Tax that needn't be paid! DISTINGUISHED UNIONISTS.-On Saturday next, at Westminster Abbey, Mr. H. M. STANLEY, the founder of the "Congo Free State," enters the "Can't-go Free State." |
