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Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, July 2, 1892   By:

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PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 102.

July 2, 1892.

OPERATIC NOTES.

[Illustration: Ancient Brass Work, in memory of Wagner the Great Worker in Brass.]

Wednesday. WAGNER. Vainly the Daughters of the River, representing the floating capital of the Banks of the Rhine, cry "Woa! Woa!" The orchestra, under the direction of Herr MAHLER, takes no notice of them, but goes on Wagnerianly, inexorably. Thus swimmingly we reach Walhall where the fire god Loge has a logement with very heavy insurance. Wotan and Loge in search of the gold. Then we meet the Nibelungs and the Nibelights , all livers under a water cure system; and then it's like a musical nightmare Alberich changes himself into a toad and is towed off as a prisoner. Fafner settles Fasolt by a drum head Court Martial, so that Fafner gets the golden honey, and Fasolt gets the whacks and please, Sir, I don't know any more but some of the music is running river like and lovely, more is puzzling, and much of it must remind Sir DRURIOLANUS of the rum tum tiddy iddy iddy um bang whack of a great Drury Pantomime. House full; Duke and Duchess of EDINBURGH, with Princess MARIE and Crown Prince of ROUMANIA, enjoying themselves Wagnerially and Rou manically.

Saturday. Le Prophète. JOHN DE RESZKÉ not up to his usual form as the Sporting Prophet; but his little Brother EDWARD, and Messieurs MONTARIOL and CASTELMARY, first rate as the three conspiring undertakers. Madame DESCHAMPS JÉHIN, as Fides , very fine. "House," also, very fine, and large.

THE BONES OF JOSEPH.

[Illustration]

Dear Mr. Punch , When writing to a Journal of light and leaders or misleaders last Friday, I kept "a little bit up my sleeve," so to speak, for the Brightest, Lightest, and Leadingest of all papers yclept the one, Sir, that bears your honoured name. After quoting from Mr. CHAMBERLAIN at Holloway (not in Holloway) on June 17, 1885, as a gentle reminder to Mr. GOSCHEN their "Mr. G." I observed, "Perhaps, however, there are reasons why the 'Egyptian Skeleton' prefers to forget the speeches of Mr. CHAMBERLAIN in 1885." It struck me that, having already an Egyptian Skeleton, we might have as its companion a Brummagem Skeleton, which everyone can see through, and this sketch I beg to submit to you, pro bono publico . Always, Mr. Punch , your most obedient "subject" (artistically),

W.V. H RC RT.

THE FÊTE OF FLORA.

[Illustration: First Prize Love among the Roses.]

Were it not that the salutation were infelicitous, we should have said, "Hail, all hail!" to the Fête at the Botanical Gardens, Regent's Park, last Wednesday. Besides, they have always an Aquarius of the name of WATERER on the premises, whose Rhododendrons are magnificent. So we didn't say "All hail!" and there was not a single drop, of rain, or in the attendance, to damage a charming show which has so often been spoilt by the drop too much that has floored many a Fête of Flora. Nothing could have been prettier. Flowers of speech are inadequate to describe the scene. "Simply lovely!" is the best epitome of praise.

LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

The Look out, Sheepsdoor, Kent .

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

Ascot has been too much for me! What with the excitement of racing all day, and bézique half the night (another sign of the times; women no longer "play for love," but "love to play!") to say nothing of the constant strain on one's nerves as to what the weather was going to do to one's gowns, I have had a severe attack of overwork, with complicating symptoms of my old enemy, idleness! so that, on my return to town, my Doctor (he's a dear man, and prescribes just what I suggest) insisted that I should at once run down to the Seaside to recuperate. Hence my retirement to the little fishing village of Sheepsdoor in Kent, "far from the gadding crowd;" a most delightfully rural and little known resort, where we all go about in brown canvas shoes (russia leather undreamt of!) and wear out all our old things, utterly regardless of whether we look " en suite " or not... Continue reading book >>


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