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  PUNCH,

  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

  VOLUME 93.

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  JULY 16, 1887.

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THE LAST VISIT TO THE ACADEMY.

[Illustration: No. 691. The Donkey Rider Stopped. "You can't go further
than this for twopence."]

[Illustration: No. 540. Arrival of the G.O.M. Collars in Venice.]

[Illustration: No. 35. A Brave Lassie. "Come on!--the whole lot of you!
I'll give it you!"]

[Illustration: No. 928. Cat and Child Fight.]

       *       *       *       *       *

ABSURD TO A DEGREE.

Now that girls have proved themselves capable of earning the highest
University honours, why should women remain debarred of University
degrees? If any senatorial difficulty precludes the removal of that
ridiculous injustice, a girl forbidden to term herself a Bachelor of
Arts, for example, might, it has been suggested, "invent some other
title more significant of the distinction she has won." No invention
could be easier. Her alternative for Bachelor would be obviously
Spinster of Arts. No Graduate able to pass the _Pons Asinorum_ can be
such a preposterous donkey as to persist in denying even the
plainest--possibly the prettiest--Passwoman that. The Dons will be
unworthy of the name they go by unless they immediately remove the
disability their old-world statutes have imposed upon the _Donne_.

       *       *       *       *       *

ROBERT AT THE ACADEMY.

I PAID my reglar wisit to the Academy last week, and was glad to find
that my werry ernest remonstrance of last year had perduced sech a
change as regards Staggerers. No Miss Menads a hunting in Burnham
Beeches without no close on to speak of, and no Mr. Cassandra a carrying
off of a pore yung lady afore she's had time to dress, merely because
she upset the salad-bowl.

I don't think it's because "familyaryty breeds content," as the poet
says, that I am less staggered than last year, but becos there ain't so
many staggerers to be staggered at. Not that there ain't none. Why,
there's one lady in the werry same dishabil as Madame Wenus herself a
poring out somethink that the Catalog says is a incantashun, but then
her pecooliar costoom is reelly xcusable, for she's that red hot that
wood excuse anythink or nothink, as in her case.

One of the jolliest picturs to my mind is a portrate of a Port Wine
drinker. Why, it seems to be a oozing out of ewery pore of his skin! and
nothink younger than '63, I'll be bound. What a life to lead, and what a
life to look back upon with proud satisfacshun!

Poor Lord HARTINGTON looks terribly bored at having to be gazed at so
constantly by so many longing, if not loving, eyes, and at being pinted
at by the old dowagers as their bo ideall of a sun in law.

Ah, Mr. STORY tells us a story as I've offen witnessed, when a young
swell stands treat to a few frends and then ain't got enuff money to pay
the bill! Wot a nuisance for him, but still wuss for the Landlord, and
wussest of all for the pore Waiter. Poor Mr. GROSSMITH looks werry much
paler than when I saw him after a jolly dinner at the Mettropole. I
thinks as a glass or two of old Port would do him all the good in the
world.

I now come to another staggerer, that fairly puzzles me. It's a nice
young Lady, named, as I see by the Catalog, Euridice, which I beleeve is
Greek for "You're a nice one!" who is a trying for to pull a rock down,
but I'm sure she'll never do it, though she has taken off ewery morsel
of her close, ewen down to her stockings, to give her more strength. I
really wonders as she doesn't put a few of her things on, as she must
see as Mr. HADES is a cumming towards her, and won't he jest be shocked!
And then here's another young Lady, almost as lightly drest, a sitting
quietly on a large cold stone, as if there wasn't no North-East wind a
blowing, and by moonlight too. What time can she expect to git home, and
what will her poor Mother say when she sees her?

If I'd ha' bin Mr. HAYNE, Esq., M.P., I'd ha bort a new Hat afore I was
painted for my pictur, and ewen gone to the xpense of a new pair of
gloves, speshally as his pictur is a going to be given to sumbody. So
now he'll go down to remote posteriority with a shabby Hat, and a old
pair of gloves on his table. His new Coat looks butifool. It is, I'm
told, a capital likeness.

The LORD MARE is placed in his proper persition as first in the best
room, and looks as happy and as jolly as I've no dout he ginerally
feels, though he don't never seem to git no rest.

In the next rooms its the great Cardinal MANNING, who ewerybody loves
and respects, Waiters and all, though it does rather try our loyalty to
see him at dinner, when he don't eat enuff wittles to fatten a church
mouse. If I'd ha' bin Sir EDWARD WATKIN, the grate Railway King, I'd ha
had a much cleaner shave afore I set for my pictur than he had. I know
as he doesn't like to be thought a close shaver in gineral, but, in this
werry partickler case, he might have made a xcepshun to his gineral
rule.

There's a lovely pictur called Ambrosia, a ewident misprint for
Hambrosia--probably a new kind of sandwitch--in which there's a werry
model of a good-looking waitress a carrying such a elegant little
lunshon, as reelly made me quite hungry to look at. I thinks as the reel
natives is quite a triumph of Hart. There's quite a grand pictur of the
dear old Bank, with all the Carts and Cabs and Omnibuses, and people
being all scrowged up together, just like life, and ewerybody a
wondering how on earth they shall hever be able to cross, jest like
life, and the Bus Coachman a flirtin with the lady passenger on the box,
jest like life, and the Policeman a driving away the pore little beggar,
jest like life. Ah, it's a reel lovely pictur that is, and werry
creditabel to Mr. DOGSTAIL who I'm told painted it.

I think the most perthetic pictur in the hole lot is the one called "the
Dunce." He's a setting all by hisself, pore feller, what they calls
detained, a trying his werry best to do his lesson and he can't do it.
And why, coz his thoughts is away out in the playground, where he hears
the shouts and the larfing of his skool-fellers. Now, what shood I do,
Doctor ABBOTT, if I was his master? Why I shood let him have a nours run
with his playmates, and then, when he cums in fresh and jolly, try him
again, and praps he'd estonish you. I was a Dunce myself wunce,
spechally at spelling, and that's how _I_ was cured.

How werry contented all the Parsons looks, they lolls back in their
cumferal chairs as much as to say to the tired wisitors, "Don't you wish
you had sitch chairs as these to set in?" Some of the Solgers looks at
you jest as if they'd like to say, "What on airth are you staring at?"

I coud ony take jest a glance at the lovely landscapes; but oh, how nice
and cool and carm they all looked, after the staring portrates with
their flaring cullers. ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

"_THE Wye_" is among STANFORD'S Tourist Guides for this season. He ought
to issue another called "_The Wherefore_." If he doesn't show cause for
the tour, people will simply ask, "Why?" and stop at home.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. NEWTON will by this time have received quite a refreshing torrent of
abuse on his devoted head. No--not torrent--CASS-cade.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: REMARKS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNANSWERED.

_Lady Godiva._ "YES, MR. GREEN, I'VE BEEN PAINTED BY ALL THE MOST
CELEBRATED ARTISTS OF MY TIME; BUT NOT _ONE_ OF THEM HAS EVER DONE ME
JUSTICE!"

_Mr. Green._ "WHAT--NOT EVEN _SIR JOSHUA?_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

MIXED PICKLES; OR, A VERY LATE PARTY.

SCENE--_A Private Room. Two Eminent Statesmen discovered in
consultation. Lists of past and present Members of Parliament, also
political Maps of England, scattered about._

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ Well, we're agreed about the name, then. It's to be
the "National Radical Conservative Unionist Liberal Party," eh?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (doubtfully)._ Rather long, isn't it? Wouldn't the "Old
England Party"--no connection with DIZZY'S "Young England" ditto--sound
better? And then we're safe to be called "Nationalists," and the word
has such disagreeable associations.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (cheerfully)._ Pooh! What's in a name? I've been
called lots of nasty ones before now.

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ Yes, and called them yourself, too, sometimes.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (with gay indifference)._ Now to business. The most
important thing we have to decide is--Who are to be the members of the
New Party?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (confidently)._ Quite so. There'll be a perfect rush to
join us. We shall have to "hold the fort" pretty strongly to prevent our
being swamped. Mind, no weak compliance with what are called "social
influences."

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ No. And no claim for admission founded on mere
relationship to be regarded for a moment.

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ Hm! I don't know. Family life, you see, is, after all,
the basis of the State; and so it's only fair that the State should do
something for one's family in return.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (diplomatically)._ All right! Then we'll shelve that
subject. Now, as regards the G. O. M. Suppose he found himself quite out
in the cold, and wanted to join us, eh?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (decidedly)._ Not for a moment. Where would our "Dual
Control" be then?

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ Of course. Shouldn't we let in HARTINGTON? Yes.
Well, how about SALISBURY?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ Awkward if SALISBURY thinks of becoming member of New
Party, eh?

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (energetically)._ That's my view entirely. You see,
if SALISBURY joins, he'll want to be Prime Minister, and then where
should I be?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (surprised)._ You! The question rather is, where I
should be?

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (hastily)._ Ah, well; then we'll shelve _that_
subject too for the present. Wouldn't you--er--like--er--to go into the
Lords, and lead _them_?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ You mean, of course, as Premier?

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (modestly)._ I thought--ahem--that _my_ natural
qualifications for that post were so obvious that----but, as I said,
let's drop the subject for a time. We can come back to it again. Now,
what's to be the programme of the Party?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (with emphasis)._ There's no doubt about _that_, I
should think. Free Education, of course. Then JESSE insists on
allotments and free holdings----

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (thoughtlessly)._ Hang JESSE!

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (with considerable dignity)._ Hang him? I intend JESSE
as our first Chancellor of the Exchequer, or President of Board of
Trade, I can tell you.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (gaily)._ All right. I don't mind, if you consent to
WOLFF being next Governor-General of India. Army and Navy Estimates to
be cut down Five Millions, each, eh?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ Couldn't think of it. We must have a Fleet of some
sort, you know.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (discontentedly)._ Then _that_ subject will have to
be shelved, too, I suppose. You don't mind, at any rate, a clean sweep
being made of the present Admiralty and Ordnance officials, eh?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (heartily)._ Not a bit. No broom you can use will be too
hard for them. They'll make it a dirty sweep before you've done. Then
there's Local Government, of course.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ Readjustment of Taxation.

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ Disestablishm----

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ Eh? what?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (calmly)._ Don't be alarmed. We'll shelve _that_ too, if
you like.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (relieved)._ By all means. (_With growing
uneasiness._) But then, I say, after all, what is our programme? How
does it differ from SALISBURY'S, for instance?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n (ingeniously)._ Oh, it's far more really Conservative
than his, you know.

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._ Yes--(_encouraged_)--I see. Of course it is. And
how does it differ from GLADSTONE'S?

_Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n._ GLADSTONE'S? Oh, well--er--it's more _really and truly
Liberal_ than his!

_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll (ruminating)._ That _sounds_ all right. The question
is, will the country believe it? And if we have to shelve so many
questions in order to form our new National Party, shan't we run a risk
of being shelved ourselves when the next "wave of progress" sweeps over
the Constituencies? [_Left ruminating._

       *       *       *       *       *

WORTH MENTIONING.

"WESTGATE-ON-SEA." _Mr. Punch_ takes off his coat and westgate in this
hot weather to correct a slight misquotation. _Mr. Punch_ is represented
as saying that none of the greatest Composers ever produced an air to
equal "the exhilarating, recuperating air" of Westgate-on-Sea. Now _Mr.
Punch_, when he wrote this (July 2), did not limit this lovely air to
one particular spot, but described it as "the exhilarating, recuperating
air of the Isle of Thanet." That Westgate is in Thanet is true, but the
advertiser poetically uses the part for the whole, thereby omitting
Birchington, Margate, Broadstairs, not to mention the inland villages
(delightful in the fall of the year), and above all Ramsgate, which is
not _Mr. Punch's_ "seaside resort," as is Westgate when he wants a
northerly breeze, but _Mr. Punch's_ seaside Residence, where
ten-twelfths of the year are delightful, where sky and sea come out in
Mediterranean colour,--where it is Nice without its cold-catching
dangers, where fruit and vegetables are flavoursome and plentiful, and
where there is even more than a fair share of that exhilarating,
recuperating air, of which the Isle of Thanet has the sole patent.

In one hour and forty minutes, the L. C. & D. takes the traveller from
Town to Westgate, and in two hours to Ramsgate, by Granville Express
from Victoria and Holborn Viaduct. On Sunday morning, starting at 10.30
A.M., the Jaded One can be down for lunch at Ramsgate by 12.30, and all
the day before him.

_A propos_ of the Granville Express, _Mr. Punch_ had the pleasure of
dining at the Granville Hotel the other evening, and a better dinner,
better chosen, cooked, and served, could not be got anywhere in London,
or out of it. The proprietor, Mr. QUATERMAIN EAST, may not wish this to
be generally known, but _Mr. Punch_, who specially compliments the
_chef_ on his clear turtle and whitebait, thinks that he shall be doing
a service to everybody by not keeping secret the story of this
QUATERMAIN--not Mr. RIDER HAGGARD'S "_Allan_,"--who means to remain the
"Q in the corner" of the Isle of Thanet. "Q. E. D." and "D" stands for
"Dinner."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: LATEST STREET IMPROVEMENT.

_Regent Street Tradesman._ "LOOK HERE, MR. POLICEMAN, AS WE WANT THE JOB
OF CLEARING UP THIS PLACE WELL DONE, WE'LL DO IT OURSELVES."]

       *       *       *       *       *

  "IF you want a thing done, you should do it yourself,"
    Is an excellent maxim, no doubt, in its way;
  But, when citizens willingly part with their pelf,
    They're entitled to claim some return for their pay.
  BULL does _not_ pay Bobbies to lounge on their beats,
  And leave him at last to look after his streets.

  About "Law and Order" there's plenty of talk,
    But Order seems missing, and Law appears blind.
  The streets of his City in safety to walk,
    After stumping up taxes of every kind,
  Is surely not much for a man to expect,
  And excuses for failure he's prone to reject.

  Sure, Regent Street is not Alsatia--not quite,
    And this handing it over to rufflers and pests,
  At whatever hour of the day or the night,
    Is a thing against which civic judgment protests;
  And BULL, when once roused, be you sure, will determine
  Against caving in to noctivagant vermin.

  Must Trade, then, turn scavenger, tradesmen turn out
    With besom and basket to keep their ways clean?
  The Bigwigs and Bobbies might like it, no doubt,
    But BULL will demand what the dickens they mean.
  He'll have his streets decent by daylight or dark;
  For why should a man who keeps dogs have to bark?

FROM "NORMA."--Moonlight Serenade for Three Voices--a Magistrate, a
Policeman, and a Home Secretary--in Regent Street:--"_Cass-ta Diva,
Incantatrice!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

"GESTA GRAYORUM."

THE _Times_ of Thursday last in a learned article on the Gray's
Inn Masque, records that "On the 28th February 1587, eight members
of the Society were engaged in the production of _The Misfortunes
of Arthur_" but on the occasion of _The Maske of Flowers_ in 1887,
the Honourable Society of Gray's Inn showed what could be done
with the _Success of Arthur_; that is, of Master ARTHUR W. A BECKETT,
Master of the Revel