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twg_000012923500 | of the Prince of Denmark and the Moor a matter of minor importance. And, if he does, it may be argued, from the cordial reception that has been accorded to _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and the _Taming of the Shrew_, that he has an excellent reason for his opinion. Believe me, yours truly, ONE WHO IS EASILY PLEASED. * * | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923501 | * * * HOW TO MEET IT. SIR,--Having read all the letters that have appeared in the papers suggesting a treatment for the prevailing epidemic, I have got, perhaps, a little confused; but, on the whole, the following is the course, as far as I can make out, that it would be prudent to pursue on finding oneself threatened with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923502 | any of the well-known symptoms. Immediately get into a warm bath several degrees hotter than you can possibly bear it, then get out again. Now go to bed, send for your family solicitor, and make your will, meantime trying every half hour half a tumbler or so of any patent medicine the advertisement of which occurs to you. Call in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923503 | a homoeopathic doctor, and give his system a turn for four-and-twenty hours; then send for your own medical man. Take care that they do not meet on the stairs. Take anything and everything he gives you for the next eight-and-forty hours, interspersing his prescriptions with frequent tumblers of hot and steaming ammoniated quinine-and-water, getting down at the same time more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923504 | beef tea, oysters, champagne, muffins, mince-pies, oranges, nuts, and whiskey than, under ordinary circumstances, you feel would be good for you. Continue the above treatment for a couple of months. This is what I am going to try, if I am down with it. As I said above, it is, if a little complicated, sure to be all right, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923505 | I have got every item of it from a careful perusal of those infallible guides and directors in all modern difficulties and doubts, THE DAILY PAPERS. * * * * * KICKED! (_By the Foot of Clara Groomley._) . I am still at Ryde, and it is still raining. On a day like this, a little Ryde goes a great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923506 | way. No Ryde without rain. _Telle est la vie._ The young girls at Plumfields sit writing themes indoors instead of taking their exercise in the open air. [Illustration] If this rain keeps on, I shall go to wild Assam again, or to the Goodwin Sands. JAMES, the headwaiter, has told me thirteen different stories of the haunted room of this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923507 | hotel. None of them are amusing, or interesting, or have anything to do with this tale. If I were writing a shilling volume, I should put them in by way of padding. As it is, they may go out. I too will go out. *** I have seen Mlle. DONNERWETTER. She was racing along on the pier, and I was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923508 | pacing along in the rear. I saw her and caught her up. I hastily pressed all the valuables that I had with me--four postage-stamps and an unserviceable watch-key--into her hand, and entreated her to give me an interview with Miss SMITH. "Me muchee want to oblige English Sahib," she said, in her pulverised English, "but ze Effendina--ze what you call | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923509 | 'ead-mistress, French lady like myself--she no like it. She give me the _bottine_, if I let great buckra massa talk to Fraulein SMEETS. But lookee--I give you straight tip. Miss SMEETS is on ze pier now--you write note--slip it in her hand. I wink ze eyebrow. I have a grand envy to oblige the English Signor. Ah! Bismillah! _Quelle alouette!_" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923510 | She is French, very French, but she has a kind heart. I hurriedly wrote a few impassioned words on my left cuff, and folded it into a three-cornered note. I dropped it down Miss SMEET'S neck as I found her leaning over the side of the pier, and then ran away. I heard her murmur, "Someone's mistaken me for the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923511 | post-office." It is still raining, but I am quite happy. I have seen her again, and I feel that she loves me. It was impossible to mistake the _tendresse_ with which she murmured, "post-office." In my little note I requested her to send a reply to this hotel. I have asked her to tell me plainly what her income is, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923512 | and to state on what conditions she will forfeit it. Of course, she has no income now, as she is a minor, but I would wait a year or two for a certainty. Shall I write her some verses--lines to a minor, or thoughts on the Southampton quay? Perhaps I had better wait until I obtain the statistics. Ah, here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923513 | is JAMES, bringing me a note. It must be from my darling--no, it is from Mademoiselle. DEAR SIR,--Miss SMITH am going away to Londres. A telegram come for her, and I look over the shoulder. It say, 'Poor TOMMY'S kicked! Come at once,' Miss SMITH make the tears. Yours, LUCIA DONNERWETTER. I must be off to London and get this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923514 | matter traced. JAMES entreats me to buy a new hat when I am away. He says it's bringing disgrace on the hotel, and keeping away custom. What! Give up the hat which her dear foot has kicked! Never! But, perhaps, I will have it ironed. The iron has entered into my soul, and perhaps, it would be doing more good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923515 | on my hat. Yes, I will have it ironed. It does look a little limp. Ironed or starched--what matter, when my darling is gone, and left me with no information as to her income? (_To be concluded in Two more Chapters._) * * * * * "Venice Preserved" in The Haymarket. No--not OTWAY'S tragedy, and not under Mr. BEERBOHM TREE'S | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923516 | management, but at the Gallery next door to the Theatre, and under the superintendence of Mr. MCLEAN, you will find not only Venice, but Florence, Prague, Heidelberg, Capri, Augsburg, Nuremburg, Innsbrck, and a good many other picturesque places, preserved in about a hundred water-colour drawings, by Mr. EDWARD H. BEARNE. If there were not so many rivers and lagoons in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923517 | the exhibition, it might be called the "Bearnese Oberland." These pictures are well painted, and, during the gruesome weather, a tiny tour round this sunny gallery is mighty refreshing. * * * * * STUDY FOR THE PELICAN CLUB.--The "Logic and Principles of Mill." * * * * * [Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT. OUR ARTIST, FINDING HE CANNOT EXTERMINATE THE STREET | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923518 | MUSICIANS, AND UNWILLING TO BE EXTERMINATED BY THEM, HAS HIT UPON A PLAN FOR HARDENING HIMSELF--WITH THE HAPPIEST RESULTS. JUST ONE WEEK OF THE DISCIPLINE REPRESENTED ABOVE HAS MADE HIM ABSOLUTELY INVULNERABLE--HE THINKS, FOR LIFE!] * * * * * "BRITONS NEVER WILL BE SLAVES!" (_A Scene from a Domestic Comedy._) MRS. BOB BULL was the wife of a British | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923519 | Workman, and she got up at four o'clock in the morning. "Must rise early," she said, "to see that my man has his breakfast." So she lighted the fire, and put the kettle on to boil, and laid the cloth, and swept out the rooms. Then down came BOB rather in a bad humour, because he had been late over-night | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923520 | at the "Cock and Bottle," detained (as he explained to his wife) by a discussion about the rights of labour. "Of course," said Mrs. BULL; "and why shouldn't you, after a hard day's work, enjoy yourself?" But BOB contended that he had not enjoyed himself, although he had undoubtedly expended two shillings and eight-pence upon refreshment. What BOB wanted to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923521 | know was, why there was a button off his coat, and why his waistcoat had not been properly mended. "Well, I was busy with the children's things," replied Mrs. BOB; "but I will put all straight when you have gone to work." "Gone to work, indeed!" grumbled BOB. "Yes, it's I that does all the work, and worse luck to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923522 | it!" The moment BOB was out of the house, Mrs. BOB got the children up and dressed them, and gave them their breakfasts and sent them off to school. When they were gone, she "tidied up" and dressed the baby. Then she did one of "the bits of washing," that came from a family in whose service she had been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923523 | before she married BOB, and that family's connection. And this occupied her fully, what with soaking, and mangling and ironing, until it was time to carry BOB his dinner. In the pauses of her work she had been able to cook it, and it was quite ready to go with her when she was prepared to take it. It was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923524 | a long walk (in the rain) to BOB'S place of work, and it seemed the longer because she could not leave the baby. But both got there, and the dinner, without any accident. And then Mrs. BOB hurried back to give the children, now home from school, _their_ midday meal. And Mrs. BOB had plenty of work to do afterwards. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923525 | She had to mend, and to scrub, and to sweep, and to sew. She was not off her legs for a moment, and had she been a weaker woman, she would have been thoroughly done up. Then came the children's evening toilette and the cooking of BOB'S supper. Her lord and master entered in due course, and she helped him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923526 | off with his coat, and (when he had finished his food) lighted his pipe for him. "Mended my clothes?" asked BOB. "Of course I have." "And washed my linen, and druv nails into my boots, and baked the bread, and pickled the walnuts, and all the rest of it?" "Yes, BOB, I have done them all--every one of them." This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923527 | put BOB into a better temper, and he took out an evening paper, and began to read it. "I say," said he; "what do you think! They have got white slaves in Turkey!" "You don't say so, BOB!" replied Mrs. BOB, lost in amazement. Then she said as she paused tidying up the room, "Ah! they wouldn't allow anything of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923528 | _that_ sort in England!--would they, BOB?" And BOB, smoking his pipe, and sprawling before the fire, agreed with her! * * * * * The Riviera in Bond Street. Why take a long journey and spend a lot of money, when the Riviera is within a shilling cab-fare? Why not apply at , New Bond Street, and obtain one of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923529 | the Fine Art Society's "excursion _coupons_," and get yourself personally conducted by Mr. JOHN FULLEYLOVE to Nice, Monte Carlo, Genoa, and all sorts of delightful places? Take _Mr. Punch's_ advice, and go there at once! And, when you have exhausted the Riviera, you have another treat in a series of well-nigh seventy drawings of Cambridge. These are skilfully limned, with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923530 | scrupulous architectural accuracy and charming pictorial effect, and will give great delight to Cantabrians, old and young. They are worthy to take their place beside the excellent series of pictures of Oxford which Mr. FULLEYLOVE exhibited some time ago. * * * * * [Illustration: THE FOREIGN FOX. (_With apologies to sop._)] * * * * * [Illustration] OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923531 | "Bring me my books!" said the Baron, not for the first time. But on this occasion the Baron was a prisoner in bed, and likely to remain so for many days. Consequently, he required amusement. He had heard of a book, called _Three Men in a Boat_, by Mr. JEROME K. JEROME, some of whose observations, in a collection of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923532 | papers entitled _Stage-land_, had caused him to laugh several times, and to smile frequently, for the subject has not been so well touched since GILBERT ABBOTT BECKETT wrote his inimitable _Quizziology of the Drama_, which for genuine drollery has never been surpassed. Anticipating, then, some side-splitters from _Three Men in a Boat_, the Baron sent for the work. He opened | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923533 | it with a chuckle, which, instead of developing itself into a guffaw and then into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, gradually subsided altogether, his smile vanished, and an expression of weariness came over the Baron's face, as after heroically plodding through five chapters he laid the own, and sighed aloud, "Well, I'm hanged if I see where the fun of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923534 | this is." The Baron may be wrong, and the humour of this book, which seems to him to consist in weak imitations of American fun, and in conversations garnished with such phrases as "bally idiot," "bally tent," "doing a mouch," "boss the job," "put a pipe in his mouth, and spread himself over a chair," "land him with a frying-pan," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923535 | "fat-headed chunk," "who the thunder" and so forth--a style the Baron believes to have been introduced from Yankee-land, and patented here by the _Sporting Times_ and its imitators,--interspersed with plentiful allusions to whiskey-drinking, may not be, as it is not, to his particular taste; and yet, for all that, it may be marvellously funny. So the Baron requested an admirer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923536 | of this book to pick out the gems, and read them aloud to him. But even the admirer was compelled to own that the gems did not sparkle so brilliantly as he had at first thought. "Yet," observed the admirer, "it has had a big sale." "_Three Men in a Boat_ ought to have," quoth the Baron, cheerily, and then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923537 | he called aloud, "Bring me _Pickwick_!" He commenced at the Review, and the first meeting of _Mr. Pickwick_ with the Wardle family. Within five minutes the Baron was shaking with spasmodic laughter, and CHARLES DICKENS'S drollery was as irresistible as ever. Of course the Baron does not for one moment mean to be so unfair to the _Three Men in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923538 | a Boat_ as to institute a comparison between it and the immortal _Pickwick_, but he has heard some young gentlemen, quite of the modern school, who profess themselves intensely amused by such works as this, and as the two books by the author of _Through Green Glasses_, and yet allow that they could not find anything to laugh at in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923539 | _Pickwick_. They did not object to _Pickwick_, as ladies very often do, that there is so much eating and drinking in it. "No," says the Baron, in bed, "Give me my _Pickwick_, and, after him, for a soothing and pleasant companion, give me WASHINGTON IRVING. When I'm in another sort of humour, bring me THACKERAY. For rollicking Irish life, give | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923540 | me LEVER. But as to youth-about-town life of the present day, I do not know of any second-class humorist who approaches within measurable distance of the author of _The Pottleton Legacy_, in the past." So far the Baron. And now "The Co." speaks:-- _A Tour in a Phaton_, by J. J. HISSEY, is an interesting account of a driving trip | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923541 | through the Eastern Counties. It abounds in hisseytorical research; we are taken to all kinds of out-of-the-way and picturesque places, of which the Author gives us graphic pictures with pencil as well as pen. A fresher title to the work might have been devised, as the present one bears a striking likeness to Mr. BLACK'S _Adventures of a Phaton_,--who, by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923542 | the way, was the first to render driving tours popular. The volume abounds in poetical quotations. The authority, however, is seldom given, and inverted commas are conspicuous by their absence. It can hardly be imagined that all this poetry is by the writer of the book. In one instance he quotes a well-known verse by ASHBY-STERRY, without acknowledgment, in which, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923543 | for some inscrutable reason, he has introduced a rugged final line which effectually mars the harmony of the original stanza. Those who prefer Scotch broth well peppered to Butter-Scotch, should read _Our Journey to the Hebrides_, by Mr. and Mrs. PENNELL. They seem to have gone out of the beaten track in their tour, which is pleasant, and their views | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923544 | of Scotland, though they may cause controversy, are novel, and at the same time indescribably refreshing. As to the views of Scotland chronicled by Mr. PENNELL'S clever and facile pencil, they are full of thought, elaborate detail and wondrous originality. There are some forty of these, all remarkable for their everlasting variety and high artistic excellence. _Dr. Hermione_ (_Blackwood_) is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923545 | rather an idyl than a novel, and would have done better still if it had been cast in the form of a comedy. The still anonymous author who followed up _Zit and Zo_ by _Lady Bluebeard_ possesses the gift, rare among novelists, of writing sparkling dialogue. The quickly changing scenes in the last chapter of _Dr. Hermione_, with its sprightly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923546 | chatter would serve the poor player almost as it stands. It is not too late to think about the comedy. In the meanwhile the novel does very well, and if he had made his story a book for the play, we should have missed many dainty descriptions of scenery. Nothing is so good as his description of the Lake District | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923547 | in Autumn, unless it be his pictures of the surroundings of the Nile as it Flows through hushed old Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought, threading a dream. _Some Places of Note in England_ (DOWDESWELLS) have been deftly noted by a notable artist, namely, BIRKET FOSTER. From the "places of note," he has evolved some of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923548 | most delicate of harmonies. Whether he gives us a Canterbury _cantata_, a Richmond _rondo_, a Stratford symphony, a Lambeth _lied_, or a Tilbury _toccata_ we are equally delighted with his choice of _motivo_ and his brilliancy of execution. In this volume we have five-and-twenty pictures, admirably reproduced in the highest style of lithography. Mr. BIRKET FOSTER has been before the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923549 | public for many years--he appeared, if we mistake not, in the early numbers of the _Illustrated News_: his work has been constant, and his pictures countless ever since, and yet, in the present volume, we find him better than ever. _Sporting Celebrities._ The first number of this new monthly contains two excellent portraits by M. WALERY. One is of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923550 | Duke of BEAUFORT, the other of Mr. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL. They are accompanied by crisp well-written biographical notices. The two portraits are well worth the price charged for the Magazine. A couple of good photographs for a shilling, cannot be considered dear. In addition to this, there are twenty pages of letterpress--so altogether it is a splendid shillingsworth. BARON DE BOOK-WORMS | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923551 | & CO. * * * * * ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. INSANITARY DUST-BINS.--That your servants should have thrown half a lobster, several potted meat-tins, an uneatable rabbit-pie, and all the vegetable refuse of your household, into your dust-bin, and that it should not have been "attended to" for upwards of two months, is quite sufficient to account for the intolerable odour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923552 | of which you and all your neighbours on that side of the street have had reason to complain; but, as you seem to think nothing but an epidemic fever, caused by the nuisance, will rouse the Authorities, you might, by throwing in a pound or two of phosphate of lime, the same quantity of copper shavings, and a gallon or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923553 | so of nitric acid, as you suggest, create such an intolerable stench, that something would have to be done, and that without delay, to preserve your entire neighbourhood from a visitation of the plague. Try it, by all means. In the meantime have a notice, as you propose, put in your kitchen window, to the effect that a champagne luncheon, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923554 | and half-a-crown a head, will be provided for the dustmen if they will only call. Failing this, you might take the steps you seriously contemplate, with a view to marrying into the dust-contractor's family. This, perhaps, coupled with a series of urgent letters to the _Times_, would be your wisest course. But, in the present unsatisfactory state of the law, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923555 | it is difficult to know how to advise you for the best. Your idea, if the worst comes to the worst, and you cannot get the Vestry to attend to it, of blowing up your dust-bin yourself with gunpowder, you might resort to as a last expedient; but, as you seem to think it might bring down your portico, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923556 | possibly the whole front of your house as well, we should advise you not to put it into execution till _quite_ assured that your attempts to get your dust-bin emptied by some less violent means have all hopelessly failed. Anyhow, try the copper shavings and nitric acid first. We think you will find, if steadily persevered in, that they will, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923557 | coupled, possibly, with some legal proceedings, settle the matter for you. * * * * * MORE GLORY.--The fall of a fragment of a chandelier has shed an additional lustre--or a portion of a lustre--on the _Brav' Gnral_. * * * * * QUITE THE FIRST BRIDGE.--The Forth Bridge. * * * * * [Illustration: THE GRAND OLD UNDERGRAD. MR. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923558 | GLADSTONE'S VISIT TO OXFORD.--It has been stated in several papers that Mr. GLADSTONE intends to reside at All Souls' College, Oxford, of which he is an Honorary Fellow, from January , till the meeting of Parliament, on February . Mr. GLADSTONE, who, we believe, is going up for quiet study, will occupy a set of College rooms.] * * * | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923559 | * * [Illustration: "ANNALS OF A QUIET PARISH." _The Vicar's Wife_ (_to Country Tradesman_). "NOW, HOSKINS, AFTER SO MANY YEARS OF OUR LIBERAL PATRONAGE, IT WAS REALLY TOO BAD OF YOU TO SEND US SUCH A GLOBE--CRACKED FROM TOP TO BOTTOM----!" _Vicar_ (_calling from the Study-door at end of passage_). "MY DEAR, DID YOU RECOLLECT TO SEND FOR HOSKINS ABOUT | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923560 | THE GLOBE YOU HAD THE LITTLE ACCIDENT WITH LAST WEEK!"] * * * * * AN UNSCIENTIFIC DIALOGUE. (_On a highly Uninteresting Topic._) _First Aspiring Political Economist_ (_picking his way cautiously_). What the Bimetallists maintain is this: that by fixing an artificial ratio between the relative values of gold and silver, you somehow (_a little vaguely_) keep up prices; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923561 | so, at least,--so I fancy,--assist the circulation of capital. At all events, that is what I take M. EMILE DE LAVELEYE to mean. (_Tentatively._) You see that, don't you? _Second Aspiring Political Economist._ Not a bit of it. Why, EMILE DE LAVELEYE is an ass. (_Emphatically._) GIFFEN says so. And you can't have a higher authority than GIFFEN (_clinching the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923562 | matter_). Why, he's Hon. Assistant Deputy Secretary to the Board of Commerce; (_with animation_) in fact, he says that all Bimetallists are hopeless lunatics, and, in my opinion, he's about right. _Third Aspiring Political Economist._ I don't see that at all. But if you are going to settle the matter by merely quoting names, what have you got to say | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923563 | to FOXWELL, the London Professor? He's a Bimetallist, and no mistake. _Second Aspiring Political Economist._ "Got to say?" Why, ask LEVIN of Cambridge what he thinks of him. LEVIN backs up GIFFEN in every word he says, and I agree with both of them. How can you have two standards? (_Explicitly._) The thing is preposterous. _First Aspiring Political Economist._ It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923564 | is all very well to lay down the law in that fashion, but it will not dispose of facts. You may quote GIFFEN, or LEVIN, or anyone you like, but they will not be able to do away with the circumstance, that prices are regulated by the quantity of money in circulation (_with a little hesitation_); at least, that is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923565 | what I understand the other side to maintain. _Second Aspiring Political Economist._ Sheer nonsense. How does the quantity of money you possess affect the price you pay for a commodity? The fact of your having twenty sovereigns in your purse won't make your butcher charge you an extra halfpenny a pound for a leg of mutton! That must be clear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923566 | to any fool! _First Aspiring Political Economist._ But you don't understand. It's numbers that do it. They mean, if thirty millions of people, each have twenty sovereigns a-piece in their purses (_doubtfully_), _then_, I suppose, the butchers would raise the price of their meat. At least, that's what I fancy they imply when they talk of an "artificial currency" raising | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923567 | prices (_with some vagueness_), or is it "artificial prices" creating an increased currency. I couldn't _quite_ follow them in this. But I am sure, whichever of the two views was expressed by M. EMILE DE LAVELEYE, that one had, no doubt, a great deal of sound argument to back it. _Third Aspiring Political Economist._ I think you miss the point. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923568 | Take an illustration. Say you arrive at a cannibal island with ten thousand complete sets of evening dress clothes, and that another ship, just before the arrival of yours, has taken the last ten-pound-note off the island, how, supposing there was to be a native rush to obtain one of your suits, would the absence of any money to pay | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923569 | for them affect their market value? I mayn't have got it quite correctly, but this, or something like it, is one of the cases that GIFFEN brings forward to prove his point. The matter, however, appears to me to be a little complicated. _Second Aspiring Political Economist._ Not in the least. It proves the humbug of the Bimetallic position up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923570 | to the hilt. Of course, you must assume, that the cannibals desire to dress in evening clothes. I confess that has to be considered, and then the question lies in a nutshell. There can't be two opinions about it. _First Aspiring Political Economist._ Well, to me, though, of course, I am willing to admit there _may_ be something in it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923571 | I can't say that the matter is, at first sight, convincingly clear. (_Candidly._) My chief difficulty is, I confess, to arrive at any definite conclusion with myself, as to what "Bimetallism" really means, and what it does not; and I own I feel still vague as to the two questions of the influence of the quantity of money on prices, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923572 | or the price of a commodity on the value of money respectively, and, though I carefully read all that appears in the daily papers on the subject, I am compelled to own that I do not seem to be nearer a solution of the perplexing difficulty. However, it is, no doubt, a highly absorbing, if not a very useful, subject | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923573 | for investigation. [_Left investigating it as Curtain falls._ * * * * * [Illustration] MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS. No. IV. Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and is, perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience of the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the Music-Halls is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923574 | complete--when Miss BESSIE BELLWOOD sings "_What Cheer, 'Ria?_" at the Lyceum, and Mr. HENRY IRVING gives his compressed version of _Hamlet_ at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up of culture, and removal of prejudice--then, and not till then, will this powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. The main idea is suggested by the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923575 | Misses TAYLOR'S well-known poem, _The Pin_, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in working out the notion of Nemesis. THE FATAL PIN.--A TRAGEDY. DRAMATIS PERSON. _Emily Heedless._ By either Miss VESTA TILLEY or Mrs. BERNARD BEERE. _Peter Paragon._ Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON or Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS (only he mustn't sing "_The Good Young Man who Died_"). _First and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923576 | Second Bridesmaids._ Miss MAUDE MILLETT and Miss ANNIE HUGHES. SCENE.--EMILY'S _Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen and sofa,_ C. _Door,_ R., _leading to_ EMILY'S _Bed-chamber. Door,_ L. EMILY _discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in uncomfortable position on sofa._ _Emily_ (_dreamily_). This day do I become the envied bride of PETER, justly surnamed PARAGON; and much I wonder what in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923577 | me he found (he, who Perfection so personifies) that he could condescend an eye to cast on faulty, feather-headed EMILY! How solemn is the stillness all around me! (_A loud bang is heard behind screen._) Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!--perhaps I should arise and search for it.... Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself, since I am, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923578 | by my settlements, to have a handsome sum allowed for pin-money? Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin, I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner. Go, then, and join the great majority of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood--my bliss is too supreme at such an hour to heed such infidelities as thine. [_Falls into a happy reverie._ _Enter_ First | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923579 | and Second Bridesmaids. _First and Second Bridesmaids._ What, how now, EMILY--not yet attired? Nay, haste, for PETER will be here anon! [_They hurry her off by_ R. _door, just as_ PETER PARAGON _enters_ L. _in bridal array. N.B.--The exigences of the Drama are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of waiting, as is more usual, at the church._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923580 | _Peter_ (_meditatively_). The golden sands of my celibacy are running low--soon falls the final grain! Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn. My EMILY is not without her faults--"_was_ not without them," I should rather say, for during ten idyllic years of courtship, by precept and example I have striven to mould her to a helpmate fit for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923581 | me. Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete--she stands redeemed from all her giddiness! (_Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation_). Ha! what is this? I'm wounded ... agony! With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed! I'll summon help (_with calm courage_)--yet, stay, I would not dim this nuptial day by any sombre cloud. I'll | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923582 | bear this stroke alone--and now to probe the full extent of my calamity. (_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove his boot._) Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin! I must know more of this--for it is meet such criminal neglect should | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923583 | be exposed. Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment who's proved to be responsible for this!--but soft, I hear a step. [_Enter_ First _and_ Second Bridesmaids, _who hunt diligently upon the carpet without observing_ PETER's _presence._ _Emily's Voice_ (_within_). Oh, search, I pray you. It _must_ be there--my own ears heard it fall! [PETER _betrays growing uneasiness._ _The Bridesmaids._ Indeed, we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923584 | fail to see it anywhere! _Emily_ (_entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in her train_). You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help. It must be found, or I am all undone! In vain my cushion I have cut in two--'twas void of all but stuffing.... Gracious Heavens, to think that all my future bliss | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923585 | depends on the evasive malice of a pin! [PETER _behind screen, starts violently._ _Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart! (_Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his hand._) You seem in some excitement, EMILY? _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, PETER!... tell me--have you found a pin? _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_! (_To_ Bridesmaids.) | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923586 | Withdraw awhile, and when we need you, we will summon you. (_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each other for some moments in dead silence._) The pin is found--for I have trodden on it, and may, for aught I know, be lamed for life. Speak, EMILY, what is that maid's desert whose carelessness has led to this mishap? _Emily_ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923587 | (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_). Why, should the fault be traced to any maid, instant dismissal shall be her reward, with a month's wages paid in lieu of notice! _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_). From your own lips I judge you, EMILY. Did they not own just now that you had heard the falling of a pin--yet heeded | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923588 | not? Behold the outcome of your negligence! [_Extends his injured foot._ _Emily._ Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well! _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_). Keep your caresses till I ask for them. My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet, and by that disregarded pin is pricked the iridescent bubble of Illusion! _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923589 | not wholly comprehend. _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet. Mine is a complex nature, EMILY; magnanimous, but still methodical. An injury I freely can forgive, forget it--(_striking his chest_)--never! She who leaves about pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot, will surely plant a thorn within the side of him whose fate it is to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923590 | be her husband! _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_). Have pity on me, PETER; I was mad! _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul, who, for the sake of temporary ease, hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine! You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why? Because, forsooth, 'twas but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923591 | a paltry pin! Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin had served you to secure your gaping train, your self-respect--and Me. _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done? _Peter._ I will not now reproach you, EMILY, nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole, the pain of which increases momently. I part from you in friendship, and in proof, that fated instrument | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923592 | I leave with you (_presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically_) which the frail link between us twain has severed. I can dispense with it, for in my cuff (_shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is perceptible_) I carry others 'gainst a time of need. My poor success in life I trace to this--that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923593 | never yet I passed a pin unheeded. _Emily._ And is that all you have to say to me? _Peter._ I think so--save that I shall wish you well, and pray that henceforth you may bear in mind what vast importance lies in seeming trifles. _Emily_ (_with a pale smile_). PETER, your lesson is already learned, for precious has this pin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923594 | become for me, since by its aid I gain oblivion--thus! [_Stabs herself._ _Peter_ (_coldly_). Nay, these are histrionics, EMILY. [_Assists her to sofa._ _Emily._ I'd skill enough to find a vital spot. Do not withdraw it yet--my time is short, and I have much to say before I die. (_Faintly._) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone; give my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923595 | canary chickweed now and then.... I think there is no more--ah, one last word--(_warmly_)--warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake, and then the pastrycook may take it back! _Peter_ (_deeply moved_). Would you had shown this thoughtfulness before! [_Kneels by the sofa._ _Emily._ 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see that I was never worthy of you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923596 | PETER. _Peter_ (_gently_). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now. You did your best to be so, EMILY! _Emily._ A blessing on you for those generous words! Now tell me, PETER, how is your poor foot? _Peter._ The agony decidedly abates, and I can bear a boot again. _Emily._ Then I die happy!... Kiss me, PETER ... ah! [_Dies._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923597 | _Peter._ In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that, although that peace was purchased by a lie. I shall not bear a boot for many days! Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child, has paid the penalty of heedlessness! [_Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923598 | house._ * * * * * NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. | 47 | gutenberg |
twg_000012923599 | E-text prepared by Susan Carr, Suzanne Shell, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) Transcriber's note: Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been maintained. Archaic usage of words such as "salvage" for "savage" and "randevous" for "rendezvous" have been maintained. Several misprints and punctuation errors have been corrected. A list of corrections can be found at the end of the | 60 | gutenberg |
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