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Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 105, November 25th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

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POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG.--"AFTER THE BALL."

    [The authors of the various versions of this "popular song"
    will not, _Mr. Punch_ is sure, object to its refrain being
    used in a far wider sense--being applied, so to speak, to a
    more extensive _sphere_--than they contemplated.]

[Illustration]

  Man, youth or maiden, amateurs, pros.,
  Season of snow-storms, time of the rose,
  'Tis the same story all have to tell!
  Not even KIPLING'S go half as well.
  Nay: and _this_ story is real and true.
  All England over, Colonies too,
  Cricketers, golfers, footballers, all
  One pursuit follow--they're After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After one ball-game's over,
      Promptly the next seems born;
    Quickly the Blackburn Rover
      Treads on the "Corn Stalk's" corn.
    GRACE, GUNN, and READ, the Brothers
      RENSHAW, fall off with the Fall;
    But there come hosts of others--
        After the Ball!

  Lords and the Oval, crowded and bright,
  Send King Willow's subjects wild with delight.
  What are they doing'midst shout and cheer?
  Smiting and chasing a small brown sphere!
  Fielded. Sir! Well hit!! Played, _indeed!!!_ Wide!!!!
  Oh, well returned, Sir! Caught! No! _Well_ tried!
  Cheering! Half-maddened! And what means it all?
  Grown men grown boys again--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    Sixer, or maiden over,
      Misfield that moves young scorn,
    Every true cricket-lover
      Stares at from early morn.
    Watching the "champion" scoring,
      Ring and pavilion, all
    Chattering, cheering, roaring,
        After the Ball!

  Then in October's chill and gloom,
  Wickets for goals make reluctant room.
  Talk is of "forwards," and "backs," and "tries."
  "_Footbawl Herdition!_" the newsboy cries.
  Fancy _that_, for a sportsman's fad!
  Players go frantic, and critics mad;
  Pros. and amateurs squabble and squall,
  And <DW36>s seek hospital--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball the "Rovers"
      Rush, and the "Villans" troop;
    "Wolves"--who have lamb-like lovers--
      Worry and whirl and whoop.
    Scrimmages fierce, wild jostles,
      Many a crashing fall,
    Follow as "Blade" hunts "Throstle,"
      After the Ball!

  Balls are not all of leather, alas!
  Cricket, golf, tennis, and football pass;
  But ROBERTS the marvellous, PEALL the clever,
  Like the Laureate's Brook, can go on for ever!
  The ivory ball--like the carvings odd
  In a Buddhist shrine--seems an ivory god;
  And "A Million Up" will be next the call
  Of the "exhibitionists"--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball is over?
      Nay, it is _never_ done!
    All the year round _some_ lover
      Keeps up the spheric fun!
    Ivory ball or leather,
      Someone will run or sprawl,
    Whate'er the hour or weather,
        After the Ball!

  Is't that our earth, which, after all,
  Itself's a "dark terrestrial ball,"
  Robs all "sportsmen" of sober sense
  Within its "sphere of influence"?
  "Special Editions" just to record
  How many kicks at a ball are scored?!?!
  Doesn't it prove that we mortals all
  Have gone sheer "dotty"--After the Ball?

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball!--as batter,
      Handler of club, racquet, cue.
    Or kicker of goals--what matter?
      A Ballomaniac you!
    Each is as mad as a hatter,
      Who is so eager to sprawl,
    Scrimmage, scout, smash, smite, clatter,
        After the Ball!

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THE HEIGHT OF COMFORT.

_Q._ I want to consult you about Flats. You must know all about them,
as you have tried this kind of "high life" for a year. And I am quite
charmed with the idea of getting one. Now, don't you find that they
have many advantages over the old-fashioned separate house system?

_A._ Oh, a great many!

_Q._ I suppose that even in such paradises a few drawbacks do exist?

_A._ A few. For instance, did you notice, during your painful progress
upstairs, a doctor coming out of the rooms just below us? No? Then you
were fortunate. There's a typhoid case there, we hear.

_Q._ Dear me! Now I think of it, I did meet a woman dressed as a
hospital nurse. But she was coming down from somewhere above you.

_A._ Yes. The people over our heads. It's a scarlet fever patient they
have, I believe. We can hear the nurse moving about in the middle
of the night. And chemists' boys with medicines call at our door, by
mistake, at all hours.

_Q._ Still, they can't get in. Your flat is your castle, surely?

_A._ Quite so. It's a pity it isn't a roomier castle. Our bedrooms are
like cupboards, and look out on a dark court. We have to keep the gas
burning there all day.

_Q._ Oh, indeed! But then, being on one floor, living must be much
cheaper, because you can do with only one servant?

_A._ That is true; but we find that the difficulty is to get servants
to do with us. They hate being mastheaded like this; they miss the
area, and the talks with the tradesmen, and so on.

_Q._ But they must go downstairs to take dust and cinders away?

_A._ No, those go down the shoot. At least, a good many of the cinders
do, though some seem to stop on the way. Our downstair neighbours
complain horribly, and threaten to summon us.

_Q._ Do they? On the whole, however, you find your fellow-residents
obliging?

_A._ Oh, very! The landing window leads to some disputes. We like it
open. The people upstairs prefer it shut. The case comes on at the
police court next week.

_Q._ You surprise me! Then, as regards other expenses, you save, don't
you, by paying no rates?

_A._ We do. That is why our landlord charges us for these eight rooms
on one floor just double what we should have to pay for a large house
all to ourselves.

_Q._ Thanks for giving me so much information. Of course, I knew there
must be some disadvantages. And you won't be surprised to hear that we
have taken a flat after all, as they are so fashionable?

_A._ On the contrary, I should be quite surprised if you didn't.

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WELCOME TO "JOEY!"

[Illustration: "HERE WE ARE AGAIN!"]

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[Illustration: SAD!

_Sportsman_ (_proud of his favourite_). "NOW THAT'S A MARE I _MADE_
ENTIRELY MYSELF! MARVELLOUSLY CLEVER, I CAN TELL YOU!"

_Non-Sportsman_ (_from town, startled_). "EH, WHAT? DEAR ME!
WONDERFULLY CLEVER, CERTAINLY." (_Mentally._) "POOR FELLOW, POOR
FELLOW! WHAT A MOST EXTRAORDINARY HALLUCINATION!"]

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HOME RAILS.

(_By a Mournful Moralist._)

  Each day my heart with pity throbs;
    Can sympathy refuse
  The ready tears, the frequent sobs,
    When reading City news?

  Not long ago I daily found
    That you were good and "strong"--
  You gained but little, I'll be bound,
    Nor kept that little long;

  Yet I was happy, since it meant
    That, for a blissful term,
  You were so very excellent,
    So "steady" and so "firm."

  Prosperity brings pride to all;
    You rose too high to sell.
  Then--pride must always have a fall--
    You lamentably fell.

  Think what your altered state has cost.
    Alas, you must confess
  That you are ruined since you lost
    Your noble steadiness!

  "Unsettled" then--oh, feeble will!--
    "Inactive" you were too.
  There's Someone "finds some mischief still
    For idle hands to do."

  "Why be inactive? All should work.
    Rise then, and do not seek
  Good honest enterprise to shirk,
    Because you're rather "weak."

  Alas, what use exhorting that
    Your fall you should annul?
  When some remark that you are "flat,"
  And others call you "dull."

  At times I hoped that you would turn,
    And mend your evil ways,
  That you were "better," I would learn,
    And "quiet" on some days.

  But now your baseness fitly ends,
    "Irregular"--and so
  You are "neglected" by your friends,
    Who all pronounce you "low."

  This conduct gives me such a shock,
    I wipe my streaming eyes--
  I want to sell some railway stock;
    I'm waiting for the rise!

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THE "ULTRA FASHIONABLE DINNER-HOUR" WHEN DICKENS WROTE _MARTIN
CHUZZLEWIT_.--It is mentioned by _Montague Tigg_, when that typical
swindler gives _Jonas Chuzzlewit_ an invitation to a little dinner.
It was "seven." Very few have guessed it, but most correspondents have
referred to the dinner-hour at _Todgers's_. But _Todgers's_ was a very
second-class establishment.

SOMEBODY proposes another Dickensian query:--SCENE--_The wedding at
Wardle's._ TIME--_After the wedding breakfast:_--"At dinner they met
again, after a five-and-twenty-mile walk." Where did they breakfast,
and where did they dine, and how many hours did men of _Mr.
Pickwick's_ and _Mr. Tupman's_ build take to do a twenty-five-mile
walk in?

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THE GOLFER'S PARADISE.--_Link_-ed sweetness long drawn out.

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THE REAL ROADS TO SUCCESS.--CECIL RHODES.

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REX LOBENGULA.

    ["Rhymes are difficult things, they are stubborn things,
    Sir."--FIELDING: _Amelia_.]

  LOBENGULA! LOBENGULA!
    How do you pronounce your name?
  How do those who call you ruler
    Your regality proclaim?

  Does the stalwart Matabele
    Seared with many a cruel scar,
  Ere he gives his life so freely,
    Hail you King LOBENGULA?

  Have I read in British journals,
    On a 'bus _en route_ to Holborn,
  Telegrams where British Colonels
    Have the cheek to call you LO-BEN?

  Has your name some fearful meaning
    Redolent of blood and bones,
  Or am I correct in weening
    It's vernacular for JONES?

  Kaiser! Potentate! Dictator!
    Any title that's sublime
  Choose, but send us cis-equator
    For your name the proper rhyme.

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AFTER THE CALL.

    ["A further call of L5 per share has recently been made on the
    shareholders in one of the companies in the Balfour group."]

  After the call is over,
    What is there left to do,
  All absolutely vanished,
    Left not a single sou.
  Furniture, trinkets, money,
    Gone, gone, alas! are they all;
  What is there left but the workhouse
      After the call?

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UNDER THE ROSE.

(_A Story in Scenes._)

SCENE XV.--_The Drawing-room at Hornbeam Lodge._ TIME--_Monday
evening, about six._ ALTHEA _is listlessly striking chords on the
piano_; Mrs. TOOVEY _is sitting by one of the windows_.

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_to herself_). Where _did_ THEOPHILUS go last Saturday?
He is either the most consummate hypocrite, or the most blameless lamb
that ever breathed; and I'm sure _I_ don't know which! But I'll find
out when CHARLES comes. It would be almost a relief to find Pa _was_
guilty; for, if he isn't---- But, thank goodness, he is not very
likely ever to hear where _I_ was that evening!

_Althea_ (_to herself_). It couldn't _really_ have been Mamma in that
box; she has never made the slightest reference to it. I almost wish
she _had_ been there; it would have been easier to tell her. What
_would_ she say if she knew I had gone to such a place as the
Eldorado?

    [_She drifts, half unconsciously, into the air of_ "The Hansom
    Cabman."

_Mrs. Toov._ What is that tune you are playing, THEA?

_Alth._ (_flushing_). N--nothing, Mamma. Only a tune I heard when I
was in town. The--the boys in the street whistle it.

_Mrs. Toov._ Then it's hardly fit to be played upon _my_ piano.
I shouldn't wonder if it came out of one of those abominable
music-halls!

_Alth._ (_to herself_). She must mean something by that. If she was
there after all! (_Aloud, distressed._) Mamma, what makes you say
that? Do--do you _know_?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_in equal confusion_). Know! Explain yourself, child.
How could I possibly----? (_To herself._) I shall betray myself if I
am not more careful!

_Alth._ I--I thought--I don't know--it was the way you said it. (_To
herself._) I very nearly did for myself _that_ time!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_as_ ALTHEA _strikes more chords_). For goodness' sake,
THEA, either play a proper piece, or shut up the piano and take up
some useful work. There's the crazy-quilt I've begun for the Bazaar;
you might get on with that.

_Alth._ (_closing the piano_). The colours _are_ so frightful, Mamma!

_Mrs. Toov._ What does that signify, my dear? When it's for a charity!
Really, I'm beginning to think this visit to town has not had at all
a good effect upon you. You've come back unable to settle down to
anything. Yes, I see a great change in you, ALTHEA, and it's not
confined to the worldly way you do your hair. I sincerely hope it will
not strike Mr. CURPHEW as it does me. You know he is dining here this
evening? I told him in my note that if he _liked_ to come a little
earlier----(_Significantly._) I think he has something to say to you,
THEA. Perhaps you can guess what?

_Alth._ (_twisting her hands nervously_). Oh no, Mamma. I--I can't see
Mr. CURPHEW--not alone, I mean.

_Mrs. Toov._ Don't be ridiculous, my dear. You know perfectly well
that he admires you. He has very properly spoken first to your
father, and we both consider you a most fortunate girl. He is a truly
excellent young man, which is the _first_ consideration; and, what
is even _more_ important, he is, as far as I can gather, making an
excellent income. And you can't deny that you were interested in him
from the very first.

_Alth._ N--not in that way, Mamma. At least, not any longer.

_Mrs. Toov._ Nonsense. If Mr. CURPHEW proposes, I shall be seriously
annoyed if you put him off with any foolish shilly-shallying. Mind
that. And here he is--at least, it's _somebody_ at the front door.
I've mislaid my glasses as usual. And if it is Mr. CURPHEW, I shall
send him in here at once; so remember what I've said. (_She goes out
into the hall, and discovers her nephew_ CHARLES.) So it is _you_,
CHARLES! You're rather earlier than I expected.

_Charles._ Nothing much doing at the office, Aunt. And I thought I
might have to dress for dinner, you know.

_Mrs. Toov._ You ought to know by this time that we are plain people
and do not not follow the senseless fashion of dressing ourselves
up for a family dinner, but I am glad you came early, all the same,
CHARLES, as I should like a little talk with you before your Uncle
comes in. We had better go into the study. (_To herself, as she leads
the way._) Now I shall get it out of him!

END OF SCENE XV.

[Illustration: "Dear, dear me!"]


SCENE XVI.--_In the Study._

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_fixing_ CHARLES _with her eye_). What is this I hear
of