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EVENINGS FROM HOME.

AT THE SPANISH-ISLINGTON OR ISLINGTON-SPANISH BULL-FIGHT.

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Reticent Policeman at the door (keeping his right hand in his breast pocket, and staring straight before him at nothing in particular, while he jerks his head to the left as an indication of what he means when he says), Straight on.

Fussy Gentleman (in a tone intended to be heard). Ah! I can imagine the people about Highbury Barn don't get well attended to, if this is their style of Peeler.

[Reticent Policeman looks round scornfully; laughing trio and exeunt towards probable opening. Shouts and applause heard within. Very tantalising as they can't find an entrance. Languid Gentleman (who has been in Spain, and knows all about it). Quite reminds me of Spain. Just the sort of thing we used to hear there. Untravelled Friend (who wishes for information). Ah! indeed! [Shouts of "Bravo, Toro!" "Go it, little 'un!" "Now then!" "Wake up!" Clapping of hands, rattling of hats and sticks. It occurs to Untravelled Friend that he's heard much the same sort of thing in a Provincial Circus during the performance of the Courier of St. Petersburgh on six horses and changing his dress ten times, appearing first as the Courier, then as Pickwick, and lastly as Cupid, showing probably to what shifts an Imperial Messenger might have been put when steam wasn't invented, if he wished to escape detection.

Fussy Friend. Where the deuce are our seats? (Turns to the left and goes nowhere. Angrily.) Why isn't there some one to-here-I say (To dirty individual in black) Where's the reserv-? (Dirty individual Scuds away.) Confound it! Why the... Oh! (Sees another person in a great coat.) Where are the reserv-?

Gruff Person. How should I know? Ask up there. (Strolls on as if he'd seen the Bull-fight a hundred times, and didn't care what happened.) Official (suddenly appearing at the bottom of a staircase). 'Served seats? Yes, Sir. Here you are, Sir. Up there.

Languid Gentleman (at the top of the stairs). But where are theFussy Gentleman. Yes. Look here. I've got 47. Here I say-(to anybody, the Stall-keeper having vanished)-Where's 47? Careless Person (comfortably seated). Take any one.

[The three friends knock down a few chairs, provoke some bad language, and finally descend to their seats. A Matador, a Picador, in a basket horse, and other Bull-fighters are in the arena engaged with Bull Number One.

Shouts (from a lot of people who know something about it). Bravo, Toro! Bravo, Toro!

Untravelled Friend. Who's Toro?

Travelled but Reserved Person (in reserved seat). He's the Bull. [The Bull-fighters go boldly within four yards of the little Bull, who doesn't seem to know his business. They dare him to the battle. Matador (with red cloak approaching a little nearer). Saha! Sa-ha! ha! ha! (Stamps his foot fiercely. Bull trots towards him. Exeunt all Bull-fighters nimbly over the barricade.) Spanish Islington. S-s-s-s! Yah! Spaniard (in the gallery). Take him 'ome! [Bull trots round and examines audience.

arena.

Bull-fighters leap into the Another Islington Spaniard (dissatisfied). Now then, vake hup! [Bull-fighters rush about vaguely with cloaks. Little Bull makes short ineffectual charges at anything, shakes his head, then stands still, and refuses to play any more.

Untravelled Gentleman (to Well-informed Friend who HAS seen the real thing). Is this anything like it?

Well-informed Friend (finding from the conversation of those around him that he is near other people who have also been in Spain). Well-not exactly. I've seen this sort of thing in Portugal. (Nobody is near who has been to Portugal, so he confines himself to an anecdote of a Bullfight in that place.)

[New movement with Bull Number Two. A Bull-fighter sits in a chair
opposite Bull. The Bull is pensive. Bull-fighter tries to dis-
tract his attention from the sawdust. Band plays also to distract
Bull. Bull listens still pensive.

Spanish Islington (in gallery). Yah! Give 'im some 'ay!
Spanish Costermonger. Get h'up. Stoopid!

[Bull rouses himself, and approaches valiant man in chair. Exit
valiant man over the barricade.

Different People (with different opinions).

Bravo, Toro! Bravo, Toro! Yah! Yah! S-s-s-s-s-s! (Applause.) Lounger (from the West End.) Doosid slow. (His party agree with him.) Easily Pleased Person (cheerfully). I think it's very amusing. (This dents as mentioned above.) is his opinion after the Third Bull has performed with same exciting inci

Fussy Gentleman. I've had enough of this. I s'pose we shall get a cab somewhere to take us back again.

[Shouts and applause suddenly. The audience are awoke, for a few seconds, by the gallant and daring conduct of a Bull-fighter, who has just stuck a rosette on the Bull's neck when he wasn't looking, and has then run away and jumped over the barricade. Untravelled Person (to his Well-informed Friend). What are these fellows called?

Well-informed Traveller. Well, one's a matador, and another's a picador-he's the picador in the basket-horse-the others are the-are the-dear me-bandilleros or banderillos-and-and-(becomes again aware that other people who have been to Spain are intently listening to his conversation) and, in fact, it's puzzling to know what these chaps are. It's certainly more like what I've seen in Portugal. (Confines himself to Portugal.)

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Spanish Islington. Where's the Clown?

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[The Sixth Bull won't leave the Circus. He won't fight, and he WON'T go away. Applause. Derisive laughter. Shouts repeated of " Give 'im some 'ay and vater." Take 'im 'ome," &c. &c. At last the Bull is coaxed back to the stable. Band plays "God Save the Queen." Music by DR. BULL. Bull-fighters assemble and bow. Cheers, hisses, applause, general movement out as quickly as possible.

Travelled Gentleman. Not the thing at all.

Untravelled Gentleman. Well, if that's anything like it-(finishes in cigar.)

Fussy Person. Hang it, we've got all the way to go back again.
Lounger from the West. Bosh!

Easily pleased Person (who has paid half-a-guinea for a stall). Well, really, I think it's the best thing I've seen for a long time. (Goes to his Club intending to send everybody to whom he owes a grudge. His advice, there, is)-Haven't you seen the Bull-fight? Oh! you ought to see the Bull-fight! Best thing I've seen for years. (And probably retires to rest chuckling.) [Spanish Islington disappears into publics. Friend (to Proprietor of the Show at Refreshment Stall). I say, these Bulls ain't half wild. No fun. (Several people agree.)

Proprietor (seeing an opportunity for advertisement). Wild! Bless you! You wouldn't be up to much if you'd had such a sea passage as they've had. You just wait till next week: they'll be as wild and vicious as-as-as-(fails in a simile) anything; you'll see some fun then. (Winks confidentially and laughs at bystanders. Left drinking each other's healths.)

WHY SHAVE YOUR SOLDIERS?

WHEN the Army Estimates come next under discussion, we hope that some Economist will move that no more shaving tackle be supplied to soldiers. The annual cost of soapsuds can be no laughing matter, though the matter may seem ludicrous. To this add the expense of razor-strops and razors, of shaving cloths and shaving brushes, and one may calculate what saving would be made merely by not shaving.

while the two regulation inches of the chin must, by order, be kept Soldiers get into sad scrapes through not being clean-shaven; and beardless, it might be well to institute a daily shaving drill, so as to ensure proficiency in the using of the razor. For the instruction of an awkward squad, short and simple words of military command might be shouted by the drill sergeant: such, for instance, as "Draw razors!" "Strop razors!" "Handle noses! 59 "Quick scra-a-ape!"

LATEST BULLETIN.

MRS. RAMSBOTHAM has been suffering rom indisposition brought on by a cold caught at the theatre. She is now trying Romeopathy.

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Literal Servant Girl (to Brown, who was calling for the first time on the Dibsworths). "PLEASE, SIR, YOUR CABMAN SAY HE DON'T HALF LIKE THE LOOK OF THIS HERE HALF-CROWN YOU'VE GIVE HIM !!"

OUR OWN MUD IN OUR OWN MOUTHS. OUR candle manufacturers complain that they can't live because their raw material has run up to such a figure. And their raw material has risen in price because it is wanted for making butter. It is a sober fact. It was but the other day that chemistry taught our manufacturers to consolidate and refine all sorts of oils and greases into the raw material of candles. And now science has gone a step further, and taught us how to turn that, which has but just been made to take form and pressure as dips and moulds, into "prime Irish" and "best Dorset!" No wonder stearine is going up fatty matters rising to the surface. Everything with grease in it is worth putting under process. Science will compel its precious oils, and extort its fatness. But the last discovery, in this direction, is the grandest. It beats what we had hitherto regarded as the triumph of industrial chemistrythe extraction of Champagne out of petroleum. They have actually found out how to turn Thames mud from Battersea reach into butter! And so the whirligig of time brings about its revenges! We refused to transmute our London sewage into milk on the Maplin sands, through the purifying stages of rye-grass and mangold, and, lo, our sewage, in payment of our stupidity, is coming back to us, via the Thames, in all its naked nastiness, as butter!

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It is only fair of Father Thames. We poisoned him, and he means to do his best to poison us; or, to put it more pleasantly, we turned our fatness into pollution of his bed, and he is giving us back our filth in fatness, whether we will or no!

Thames where was made the first find of this choice delicacy for the breakfast table, let Batter-sea be re-christened and known henceforth as Butter-mere.

"AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER?" IMPROVING this text, the Echo is eloquent on the cold-blooded selfishness and cowardly inhumanity of the men who, the other day, stood by and saw a drunken double-murderer at Brentwood cut his wife's throat first and his own afterwards. Another case of the same kind is that of PATRICK JENNINGS, a Black Country ruffian, who beat out with a half brick the little life he had not first jumped out of his wife's body with his iron-clamped boots, in the sight of several men,

"Who didn't think it was their business to interfere, as it was only his own wife he was punching."

The Echo wonders how human beings could look on at such acts of murderous brutality without even lifting a hand. Where's the wonder? They are only bettering the instruction of their superiors. What is it but the doctrine of Non-Intervention transferred from public to private life?

In the face of this sickening story, can we wonder that BISHOP SELWYN has thought it advisable to bring over, as his suffragan, a clergyman who was of old his right hand in dealing with the natives of New Zealand? All BISHOP SELWYN'S and DR. ABRAHAM'S united experience of savagery will not be too much for the work they have before them in the Black Country.

At 7.30.

Here is a triumph for THWAITES, a chance for the Board of Works, a use for the deposits of Barking, a way of turning to account the hundreds of thousands of tons of sewage now poured weekly from the pumps at Abbey Mills. At present they accumulate as Thames mud, and are complained of as a nuisance. You have but to turn that Thames mud into butter, to extract from it a bonus and a blessing! them now announces Twenty Minutes with a Tiger! This beats the WHAT terrific sensation will the theatres next bring out? One of Write up over the Abbey Mills pumping station "BAZALGETTE, Butterman to the Board of Works!" and let THWAITES and the Bull-fights. Board bind themselves to use their own extract as "the best substitute for butter at breakfast!" And in honour of that reach of

THE GAS-FITTER'S PARADISE.-Berners Street.

Printed by Joseph Smith, of No. 24, Holford Square, in the Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell. in the County of Middlesex, at the Printing Offices of Messrs. Bradbury, Evans, & Co., Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars. in the City of London, and Published by him at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, City of London.-SATURDAY, March 12, 1870.

MARCH 19, 1870.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

ENTOMOLOGICAL STUDIES.

SHOWING THE TRANSFORMATION OF THREE DIFFERENT KINDS OF LEPIDOPTERA, FROM THE LARVA OR CATERPILLAR, INTO THE
IMAGO OR PERFECT INSECT.

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1. THE MUSIC-HALL MOTH, OR NOCTURNAL CAD-FLY (Bombyx cheapanasticus).

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2. THE SIX-FOOTED Narcissus Apollo, OR Scarlet Sesquipedalian.

3. THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD BUTTERFLY (Fuella rapidula).

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THERE any reason why Shakspearian plays should not be played on horse-back? None that I know of. M. JULLIEN required a whole stud for his Peter the Great at Covent Garden, and TAMBERLIK sang some of his finest tenor airs in that opera, while sticking on, by his knees, to the sides of a cream-coloured charger, that sniffed the blue-fire, the resin, and the big drum from afar off. As the Astleian poet sings, or should sing,

Once more upon my native boards, my name's Mazeppa. a!

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Seeing that Othello with MR. PHELPS and MR. and MRS. HERMANN VEZIN has been highly successful at the celebrated Amphitheatre, and having been unable to witness the interesting performance (why didn't MR. PHELPS play Manfred on horseback at Drury Lane ? or- but no, I'll keep that idea for some enterprising horsey manager, and make at least fifty-two thousand pounds, ten shillings, and seven-pence three-farthings by its representation), I beg to offer a few notes for stage-business, whenever it may seem good to the Undaunted SMITH, Baron of Leicester and Cremorne, and Count d'Asnières to "mount" SHAKSPEARE on horseback. Othello is not, however, a happy selection, for the scene lies in Venice, the only place where riding is a rather superfluous accomplishment. However, by diligently consulting some authorities, and authorities are always to be found for any particular view, the first scene might be painted to represent Exterior of Brabantio's Stables.

In the unwonted absence of the groom, Brabantio might be asleep in the cock-loft. This must be explained by careful annotations; and a reference might happily be made in the bill to "The Steed Stolen and the Door Locked Afterwards," in allusion to Desdemona's flight with the Moor. Beyond this indication of horses there is little opportunity in the First Act for equestrian display.

The Second Act is in Cyprus-a sea-port town. We are on the quay. Realise Dover, Folkstone, Boulogne, Calais, Dieppe, Brighton, Biarritz, where you will in fact, only the more fashionable the better, and there you have unlimited scope for horses, mules, donkeys, goat-chaises, carriages, bathing-machines, and bath-chairs drawn by jennets. The place is as brimful of animal life as a rare old Stilton.

Montano should enter riding his own horse. Second and Third Gentlemen (the "Utility" department-vide Era) would enter on hired horses. The Second Gentleman, having to exit first, can be perpetually consulting his watch, as if he were afraid of out-riding the hour. This is "business" apart from the text, and would considerably improve what are now necessary, but uninteresting, parts. I will set down certain "cues for business."

Situation. MONTANO, C., well mounted, with spurs and whip. First Gentleman, L.H., poorly mounted; no spurs, whip. Second Gentleman on a different coloured steed; spurs, no whip. Enter to them a Third Gentleman on a cob (14.1. high); he has no spurs nor whip, a single snaffle and an old saddle.

Enter another Gentleman on a pony. Dialect.

Second Gent. "They do discharge their shot of courtesy." [Plunging, shying of all the horses. The Three Gentlemen (of Verona) hold on by pummels, and turn pale. Gentleman on pony dismounts, and shortens the curb-chain. Cassio (to Second Gent., who has been looking at his watch during parts of the dialogue). "I pray you, Sir, go forth," &c. Second Gent. I shall,

[Pockets watch. Looks at the Church clock, which is visible somewhere, directs silently First Gentleman's attention to the fact that the hour has expired. First Gentleman shakes his head, meaning that he is "not going in just yet," and exit, trotting, Second Gentleman.

When Second Gentleman re-enters, it will be on foot, to show that he has taken his horse to the livery stables, and has paid his three-andsixpence, with a "trifle for the Ostler, please Sir.",

Desdemona can be in a pony-chaise (of the period, vide authorities) with Emilia and Roderigo; or, which is preferable, on horseback in a semi-military costume, so as to fully realise Othello's, salutation, "Oh, fair warrior!"

my

In such scenes as a "Room in the Castle," "Another Room," and pony no bigger than a Newfoundland dog, to be petted during the so forth, the only chance of equestrianism is to introduce a performing conversation. If, for any reason, this is impracticable, then let the apartment be on the ground floor, with a large window commanding a view of the marine parade, and outside, on felt, so as to be inaudible (out of respect to the text) can promenade loungers, equestrians, ponycarriages, &c., &c.

If the at-first-sight-apparently-insurmountable difficulties in the way of such equestrian display can be thus overcome in Othello, how easy will it be in such plays as Macbeth, and the Historical Dramas ?

Hoping that we shall in all this be credited with at least good intentions towards the Drama generally, and SHAKSPEARE particularly, we it may concern. for the present leave our hints to the consideration of all those whom

One Letter Wrong.

MRS. MALAPROP was lately induced to visit a Jewish Synagogue, and, in consequence, has done nothing ever since but talk of the Chief Rabbit.

LENT TO READ?

MESSRS. HOULSTON advertise Notes on Fasting. By a Layman. Another title, perhaps, fitting this book, would be The Autobiography of Emptiness.

MORE HAPPY THOUGHTS.

I

IN five days I leave this. Sorry; but must get back. DYNGWELL thinks, he says, of running with me to the "gay and festive village," he means Paris,-"and going on the scoop for a short burst of it.' represent to him, gravely, that I can't go on the scoop; to which his answer is, "Never mind, Cockalorum, we 'll bustle 'em somehow." DYNGWELL asks me to come and have a chat in his room. We fall into German and French. I propose talking in both languages as a capital plan for foreigners. He says, "Who's a foreigner?" I reply, "We are," which seems to astonish him. He had thought that Englishmen never could be foreigners.

Happy Thought-Suggest that he was thinking of Rule Britannia and chorus. Never, never, never, never, never shall be" foreigners. I say, for practice, will he talk German to me? He won't. For practice, will I talk French to him? I will. He doesn't understand a word I say. He says he catches one now and then. We read French to each other. Getting tired of this, he draws my attention to his exercises, and professes to be getting "Quite the German.'

Happy Thought-To test him and his system. Represent the conventionality of his exercises. Get one of mine (intended for my forthcoming "Method of learning German, French and English simultaneously," if POPGOOD and GROOLY will have it. Wish they'd answer telegrams) and try him.

For Beginners.-I am fat (gross). You are poor. We are fat and poor. Am I fat or poor? Are you ill or fat? He is old and little. Is he little or old? I am rich (reich) and fatigued. Are you little (klein), and fat (gross), and rich and ill (krank)?

Next Exercise. -I am not tall. They are short and idle. Is the father good and fat? The mother is happy and tall. The father and the mother are small and polite. My aunt is with the shoemaker, but my uncle is in the garden. The wife of the doctor (des Arztes) is in the fat carpenter's garden.

I have seen the tailor's uncle's boots (i. e. I have the boots of the uncle of the tailor seen).

This is what DYNGWELL says is his difficulty; viz., that the verb is (so to speak) round the corner; or comes, as it were, at the end of the book.

Happy Thought.-There are more things in heaven and earth, DYNGWELL, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

DYNGWELL puts before me his idea of our exercise.

Dyngwell's German Exercise.-Will the Cockalorum liquor? The old Cockalorum is moppy. The tailor was bustled a bit by the wife of the Cockalorum. The old cove went on the scoop. The venerable Cockalorum ain't in good form. The shoemaker is a Hass. The carpenter's grandmother was quite the drunkard. The gardener has the papsylals in his great toe. Act on the square, boys, and be quite the c'rrect card, your vashup. The carpenter retired to his virtuous downy. My Aunt and my Uncle. The noble swell was all there. Well, my Lord and Marquis, how was you to-morrow? Hallo! says the Dook. Quite the tittup, says the Duchess. The Cockalorum was on. I'll have your German Exercise!

"Now," says DYNGWELL, "get that into real up and down German, and you'll be quite the scholar."

Sunday. In the Jesuits' Church. Expect, from seeing the crowd, that I am going to see something peculiarly grand. Edge myself as near as possible to the front row of people all standing. A German hymn which I don't understand.

Happy Thought.-Never offend prejudices. Look devotional, and hum as much of the tune as I can catch.

No ceremonial, but a sermon. After the first twenty minutes look round to see if there's any chance of getting out quietly. None. Wedged in. Think of saying Ich bin sehr Krank, and getting them to let me pass. Say this to my next neighbour. He shakes his head: either he won't believe me, or doesn't understand. Try it once more and give it up. Sermon lasts one hour at least.

Happy Thought (for any one who doesn't understand the language and is uncertain what service he is going to hear).-Get close to the door. Day of Departure.-Early in the morning get weighed at MISS CATHERINE'S, I mean MISS CAROLINE'S. Find I'm considerably less.

Happy Thought.-Thinner.

Say good-bye to everybody. DYNGWELL will accompany me to Paris. Everybody in hotel suddenly seems to find an opportunity for coming into my room. Waiters, chambermaids, porters, boots and people whom I've never seen before. I call in to see the Bathman and the Doucheman. They receive their gratuity sorrowfully, being puzzled at the non-success of the vapour-bath in my case as compared with that of Der Andere Mann.

The Commander appears at the hotel door. He is also coming to Paris. Capital fun, we three," he says. He promises that he'll tell us the story of the Mongoose in the train.

MADAME DREMEL lends me a triumphal car in the shape of a magnificent carriage and pair, and coachman in livery (looking, on the whole, something like a foreign ambassador's equipage in Hyde Park), and DR. CASPAR is determined to see the last of me. It's a long journey to Paris; ten hours.

Happy Thought.-Take light wine, chicken sandwiches, and French literature to prepare for the gay capital. Get DYNGWELL to talk French all the way there. Good practice.

Happy Thought.-Ask DYNGWELL and Commander to get light wine and sandwiches, also.

DR. CASPAR's interest secures us a carriage to ourselves-not to be disturbed on any account.

Happy Thought.-As invalids.

Before going, take the names and addresses of every one I leave behind. Will write to them; must see them; will all meet again, jovially-somewhere. We all mean what we say: at the time.

"Here's old Cockalorum!" shouts DYNGWELL, catching sight of our good-humoured, kind-hearted Professor's hat. I ask him to watch for the first volume of my Typ. Develop. He says, "He will do so, with the greatest possible interest."

Happy Thought.-Paid the Bill.

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To my Friend****

"Youthful friend, say, have you quaffed
At her hands the sulphur draught?"
"Whose hands, if you please, Sir?"
Then I answer, "She the nymph
Of the boiling sulphur lymph,
Lovely MISS ELISA."

What's "Lymph?" says DYNGWELL.

Happy Thought. To say, "My dear fellow, I suppose you've never read any poetry? DR. CASPAR draws our attention to the Station. (If DYNGWELL's going to be unpleasant on the journey, I shall travel in another compartment with the Commander.) Once more, adieu. Tickets. Luggage.

Happy Thought.-Booked through, and change nowhere; so whatever they say to us in German, French, or Dutch, we don't stir. Where is the Commander ?

Train in motion. Farewell. Au revoir. Hands to hats. The last hand, the last hat, I can just see; and also sudden appearance of the Commander, too late. He had stopped behind to tell the Professor the Mongoose story (I hear afterwards) and was obliged to leave in the middle. Aix, farewell!

Happy Thought.-To be prepared for everyone, beginning with MILBURD in London coming up and saying, "Well; left all your Aches behind?" on my telling him that I've just come from Aix.

Happy Thought.-Shall simply observe I've been staying at Aachen. Telegraph to FRIDOLINE from Paris. "Home, sweet Home! Wherever I wander, there's no place like Home!"—that is, of course, when the drains are not up, and the Inspector of Nuisances is not bothering about the grounds. Viá Paris to England.

An Unlucky Question.

his head). Imagine, then, his horror at being asked, the other day at WATERMORE is a strict teetotaller (and just a little bald on the top of THOROFITT'S by the assistant who was cutting his hair, whether he ever applied stimulants to it!

"FICTILE IVORIES."-False Teeth.

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