Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 9

it, and in Iona you'll own a good picture.
No. 664. "La Cigale." A sporting subject suggestive of "Got nothing on." It is not a portrait of La Cigale at the Lyric. H. RAE.
No. 714. Wind Lads and Wind-Lasses. FRANK DICKSEE, A.
No. 743. "If I had a donkey what wouldn't go.". ALFRED W. STRUTT.
No. 1006. A Little Duck. WILLIAM STRUTT. (Must be seen for title to be appreciated.)
No. 1106. Hares Apparent. WILLIAM FOSTER.
No. 1108. _Napoleon leaving the room where Josephine is fainting on the floor._ Short title, "Going Nap." LASLETT J. POTT.
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THE ABC OF IBSENITY.
A is the ARCHER who booms in the _World_, B is the Banner of IBSEN unfurled. C the Commotion it makes for the minute, D is the _Doll's House_, and all there is in it. E is the Eagerness shown in the fray, F the Fanatics, who will have their way. G is a Ghost, and oh! there are lots of 'em, H is Heredity, making pot-shots of 'em. I is the Ibsenite so analytic, J is the Jeer of the Philistine critic. K is a _Kroll_, and a Pastor is he, L is a _Lady_, who comes from the Sea. M is the Master, speak soft as you name him, N stands for Norway, so eager to claim him. O his Opponents, who speak out their mind, P stands for _Punch_, where his dramas you'll find. Q is the Question, should Rosmer have wed her? R is _Rebecca_, who took such a header. S is the _Speaker_, which gets quite excited, T is the Temper, it shows uninvited. U the Unquestioning Faith of the some, V is the Vaudeville, where they all come. W stands for the Worshipping Few, X their Xtreme disproportionate view. Y ends Ibsenity, and, as everyone knows, Z brings an alphabet rhyme to a close.
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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
The Diary of a Pilgrimage occupies 175 pages of one of ARROWSMITH's three-and-sixpenny books, and no doubt the admirers of its author, Mr. JEROME K. JEROME, may possibly not grudge this amount when gauging its value by its attractive cover. It is "'ARRY Abroad," that's all. 'ARRY Abroad laughs and talks loudly in foreign churches, sneers and jeers at everything he does not understand--and this includes the greater portion of all he sees and hears--chaffs puzzled officials, and everywhere makes himself highly and exceptionally popular. In this Diary 'ARRY is occasionally rather amusing when he is endeavouring to be either serious or sentimental, or both. 'ARRY serious or 'ARRY sentimental, or 'ARRY sentimentally serious and expecting to be taken at his own valuation, is of course delightful, only a little of it goes a great way, and this Cockney pilgrim goes too far, especially when giving us his valuable opinion on the Passion Play. 'ARRY on the Passion Play, and the character of JUDAS ISCARIOT! As _Hedda Gabler's_ husband observes on every possible opportunity--"Fancy _that_!" Only once the Baron finds himself in agreement with the travelling 'ARRY, and this happens when he says, "I must candidly confess that the English-speaking people one meets with on the Continent are, taken as a whole, a most disagreeable contingent." Yes, certainly, when they are all 'Arries. Set an 'ARRY to catch an 'ARRY, and of course to the regular right-down 'ARRY all other 'ARRIES, not 'appnin' to 'ave the _h_onour of being 'is own par_tics_, are detestably vulgar cads. The remainder of the book, i.e., 131 pages, is padded with essays, a fact not mentioned on the outside of the work, which, like charity, covers a multitude of sins. Whether this is quite a fair way of stating contents, is a question which the Baron supposes both Publishers and Author have thoroughly considered.
Don't skip ELLEN TERRY's Memoirs in The New Review. Nothing much in them, but delightfully chatty and amusing. See _Murray's Magazine_ for Mr. GLADSTONE on the _Murray Memoirs_, in the number for the "Murray Month of May." When you are routing about for something short and amusing, take up the _Cornhill_, and read A Flash in the Pan. I have commenced, says the Baron, my friend GEORGE MEREDITH's One of the Conquerors. Now G.M. is an author whose work does not admit of the healthy and graceful exercise of skipping. Here the skipper's occupation is gone. G.M.'s work should be taken away by the reader far from the madding crowd and perused and pondered over. If Ponder's End is a tranquil place as the name implies, then to that secluded spot betake yourself with your GEORGE MEREDITH, O happy and studious reader, and ponder in peace.
Since the time of _Richard Feverel_, which I shall always consider his best, "of the very best" as ZERO of the Monte Carlo Bar has it, G.M. has developed into a gold-beater of epigrams. What