



Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer,
Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net









PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 107.
JUNE 21, 1894.

                               * * * * *

                          A RIVERSIDE LAMENT.

  In my garden, where the rose
  By the hundred gaily blows,
  And the river freshly flows
        Close to me,
  I can spend the summer day
  In a quite idyllic way;
  Simply charming, you would say,
        Could you see.

  I am far from stuffy town,
  Where the soots meander down,
  And the air seems--being brown--
        Close to me.
  I am far from rushing train;
  _Bradshaw_ does not bore my brain,
  Nor, comparatively plain,
        _A B C_.

  To my punt I can repair,
  If the weather's fairly fair,
  But one grievance I have there;
        Close to me,
  As I sit and idly dream,
  Clammy corpses ever seem
  Floating down the placid stream
        To the sea.

  Though the boats that crowd the lock--
  Such an animated block!--
  Bring gay damsels, quite a flock,
        Close to me,
  Yet I heed not tasty togs,
  When, as motionless as logs,
  Float defunct and dismal dogs
  There _aussi_.

  As in Egypt at a feast,
  With each party comes at least
  One sad corpse, departed beast,
        Close to me;
  Till a Canon might go off,
  Till a Dean might swear or scoff,
  Or a Bishop--tip-top toff
        In a see.

  Floating to me from above,
  If it stick, with gentle shove,
  To my neighbour, whom I love,
        Close to me,
  I send on each gruesome guest.
  Should I drag it out to rest
  In my garden? No, I'm blest!
        _Non, merci!_

                               * * * * *

[Illustration: THE 'ARDEN-ING PROCESS.

_Orlando._ "TIRED, ROSALIND?" _Rosalind._ "PNEUMATICALLY."]

                               * * * * *

                          OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

"For a modest dish of camp-pie, suited to barracks and youth militant,
commend me," quoth one of the Baron's Baronites, "to _Only a
Drummer-Boy_, a maiden effort, and unpretentious, like its author, who
calls himself ARTHUR AMYAND, but is really Captain ARTHUR DRUMMER
HAGGARD. He has the rare advantage, missed by most people who write
soldier novels, of knowing what he is talking about. If there are faults
'to pardon in the drawing's lines,' they are faults of technique and not
of anatomy." "The Court is with you," quoth the BARON DE B.-W.

                               * * * * *

HOTEL NOTE.--The _chef_ at every Gordon Hotel ought to be a "_Gordon
Bleu_."

                               * * * * *

                      THE VOLUNTEER'S VADE MECUM.

                          (_Bisley Edition._)

_Question._ What is the ambition of every rifleman?

_Answer._ To become an expert marksman.

_Q._ How is this to be done?

_A._ By practice at the regimental butts (where such accommodation
exists), and appearing at Bisley.

_Q._ Is the new site of the National Rifle Association better than the
last?

_A._ Certainly, for those who come to Bisley intend to shoot.

_Q._ But did any one turn up at Wimbledon for any purpose other than
marksmanship?

_A._ Yes, for many of those who occupied the tents used their _marquees_
merely as a suitable resting-place for light refreshments.

_Q._ Is there anything of that kind at Bisley?

_A._ Not much, as the nearest place of interest is a crematorium, and
the most beautiful grounds in the neighbourhood belong to a cemetery.

_Q._ Then the business of Bisley is shooting?

_A._ Distinctly. Without the rifle, the place would be as melancholy as
its companion spot, Woking.

_Q._ In this place of useful work, what is the first object of the
marksman?

_A._ To score heavily, if possible; but, at any rate, to score.

_Q._ Is it necessary to appear in uniform?

_A._ That depends upon the regulations commanding the prize
competitions.

_Q._ What is uniform?

_A._ As much or as little of the dress of a corps that a judge will
order a marksman to adopt.

_Q._ If some marksmen were paraded