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THE PHIL MAY ALBUM

[Illustration: BLOWING A CLOUD]

THE
PHIL MAY
ALBUM

COLLECTED BY
AUGUSTUS M. MOORE

METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1900

EDMUND EVANS
PRINTER
RACQUET COURT
FLEET STREET

CONTENTS

PAGE

BLOWING A CLOUD 2

INTRODUCTION 7

THE LEGITIMATE 17

A QUESTION OF HOSE 18

FALLEN GREATNESS 19

"NOT GOLDEN, BUT GILDED" 20

THE TEMPTATION OF ANTHONY 21

ON THE BRAIN: THE QUEEN AND MRS. MARTHA RICKS 22

FATE! 23

ON THE BRAIN: H.R.H. AND STIGGINS 24

THE NOBLE ART 25

ON THE BRAIN: H.R.H. THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE 26

PRO BONO PUBLICO 27

ON THE BRAIN: THE DUKE OF FIFE 28

ACCOMMODATING 29

ON THE BRAIN: THE GERMAN EMPEROR 30

AT A PROVINCIAL BANQUET 31

ON THE BRAIN: THE DUC D'ORLEANS 32

ALL THE DIFFERENCE 33

THREE MEN IN A BOOT 34

A FRIEND IN NEED 35

LIKE A BIRD 35

ON THE BRAIN: MRS. ANNIE BESANT 36

AN UPRIGHT COURSE 37

ON THE BRAIN: MR. HENRY GEORGE 38

A BENEVOLENT CONNOISSEUR 39

ON THE BRAIN: SIR CHARLES EWAN SMITH 40

ON THE SANDS 41

ON THE BRAIN: MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH 42

WOMANLY 43

ON THE BRAIN: MR. ARTHUR ROBERTS 44

OUR CLIMATE 45

ON THE BRAIN: SIR GEORGE NEWNES 46

CHEEK 47

ON THE BRAIN: SIR GEORGE DIBBS 48

INFORMATION WANTED 49

ON THE BRAIN: MR. HORACE SEDGER 50

FRENCH, AS SHE IS SPOKE 51

ON THE BRAIN: THE MARQUIS OF QUEENSBERRY 52

HARD LINES 53

ON THE BRAIN: MR. W. T. STEAD 54

MUTUAL CONSIDERATION 55

ON THE BRAIN: MR. WILLIAM MORRIS 56

BRITONS IN PARIS 57

ON THE BRAIN: SIR HENRY PARKES 58

READY FOR THE BALL 59

ON THE BRAIN: THE MARQUIS OF DUFFERIN AND AVA 60

BEFORE HIS FRIENDS 61

ON THE BRAIN: SIR AUGUSTUS HARRIS 62

SAINTLY POLITENESS 63

ON THE BRAIN: SIR EDWARD LAWSON 64

"OH, LISTEN TO MY TALE OF 'WO'" 65

ON THE BRAIN: MR. RUDYARD KIPLING 66

THE NEW JEW 67

STREET COMPLIMENTS 67

DEDUCTION 67

ON THE BRAIN: SIR WILLIAM V. HARCOURT, M.P. 68

THE VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES 69

ON THE BRAIN: M. ERNEST RENAN 70

A PAIR OF SOILED KIDS 71

LIP 71

ON THE BRAIN: LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL 72

THE CAPE MAIL 73

ON THE BRAIN: LORD RUSSELL OF KILLOWEN 74

LIMITED 75

ON THE BRAIN: MR. H. M. STANLEY 76

INFORMATION 77

ON THE BRAIN: LORD ALINGTON 78

INQUISITIVE 79

A HOWLING SWELL 79

ON THE BRAIN: RT. HON. A. J. BALFOUR, M.P. 80

AN IDLE FELLOW 81

ON THE BRAIN: MADAME ADELINA PATTI 82

A GOOD PLACE 83

POODLES 83

A PLEASANT PROSPECT 83

ON THE BRAIN: RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE 84

ON THE SANDS 85

ON THE BRAIN: THE RIGHT HON. JOSEPH
CHAMBERLAIN, M.P. 86

REALISM 87

ON THE BRAIN: M EMILE ZOLA 88

AT THE RIDING SCHOOL 89

ON THE BRAIN: LORD TENNYSON 90

NO CHANCE 91

A FACT 91

A PROMINENT FEATURE 91

ON THE BRAIN: SIR J. BLUNDELL MAPLE, M.P. 92

FORCE OF HABIT 93

ON THE BRAIN: MR. ALBERT CHEVALIER 94

THE UNKINDEST CUT 95

DOUBLE SIGHT 95

PUTTING IT PLAINLY 95

BRIDGET 95

M. JAQUES 96

OBVIOUS 97

MONSIEUR SARDOU 98

PLEASANT MEMORIES 99

ADVICE 99

A SONG AND A SINGER 99

ON THE BRAIN: MR. BEERBOHM TREE 100

A NASTY ONE 101

ON THE BRAIN: GENERAL BOOTH 102

THE ACCENT ON THE PEG 103

A RECOMMENDATION 103

PICKSOME 103

ON THE BRAIN: AN EX-LORD MAYOR 104

THE WRONG SHOP 105

ON THE BRAIN: MR. G. A. SALA 106

BAKERS' STRIKE 107

GOING THE PACE 107

A POSER FOR GRAN'PA 107

A PRIOR ENGAGEMENT 107

THE NORTH POLE 108

SUGGESTIVE 109

LEG-ISLATION 110

INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT 111

THE CONSUMING PASSION 111

THE DOWN TRAIN 111

A DISTINCTION 111

ON THE BRAIN: MR. PUNCH 112

PHIL MAY AND HIS ART

"And now, Mr. Whistler, what about Black and White Art?" said an
interviewer. "Black and White Art," said Mr. Whistler, "is summed up in
two words--Phil May!" Nor is this merely a New School of Art paradox. It
is one which is held by artists of all grades alike, and even by the art
editor who professes to know and supply what the public likes. That a
youth who never had a lesson in drawing in his life should have earned
such a reputation between the ages of seventeen and thirty, and should
have gone above men as honoured in their profession as Sir John Tenniel
and Mr. George du Maurier, and on a level with Charles Keene, Mr. Abbey
and Mr. Gibson, is enough to make Mr. May's art extremely interesting.
But his art is not nearly so instructive as Mr. May himself; he is a
human document to the hand of the realist, and the student of
heredity--if ever there was one. He has been interviewed in a sketchy
fashion by the journalistic Mrs. Mangnall innumerable times; the
high-art magazines have added him to their lists of "Our Graphic
Humorists," "Black and White Artists," and "How Caricaturists Draw."
The world is familiar with his own grotesque sketches of himself, and,
whether he is attired in riding breeches, a straw hat perched on the
back of his head, as he drives a coster's cart, or is being flung out of
a cab, his long cigar and his hair cut in a bang straight across his
forehead, are unchangeable and unmistakeable. The public no doubt thinks
that this is only one of Phil May's jokes at his own expense, for the
bold Rabelaisian roundness of his humour suggests a man the very reverse
of the lean and hungry Cassius. But Phil May's humour does not consist
of making fat people thin, thin people fat, exaggerating features,
putting big heads upon little legs, and such methods of distortion as we
have so often seen resorted to. This we learn from a glance at his home,
which is his studio life.

Mr. May's artistic treasures are none of them the old masters of a
millionaire, but purely personal household gods, each with a little
story of a friendship, a reminiscence of hard-up times, or some personal
taste. The volumes in the old oak book-case are not first editions, but
they show a fine appreciation for the best literature, and even the blue
china is not wired and hung-up. The drawing-board seems to act as an
address-book, and the grandfather's clock by the fireplace in its old
age has given up making a nuisance of itself by repeating "For ever,
never." The mantelpiece is peopled with little Japanese dolls, little
bronzes and brasses, and figures carved in yellow ivory. These, with a
few plaster casts of arms and legs which hang on the walls, a line of
Japanese prints put around the ceiling "to try an effect," a few
Japanese lanterns hanging from the roof, some Japanese lay-figures in
armour standing round the walls, and a few sketches, are about all the
decoration of this long sky-lit room. But most important of all is the
index to as remarkable a story as was ever told by a successful man, a
story which has never been told before. It is only an old mug. The
substance is earthenware, the decoration obviously pseudo-oriental, and
the design and glaze nothing marvellous. It clearly comes from the
English potteries, but it has no mark, and it is certainly not Chelsea,
Derby, Yarmouth, Bristol, Lowestoft, or any of the rarer and
higher-priced wares. The hand of Wedgwood, Voyez, or Elers is not seen
in its design, and, indeed, it is difficult precisely to locate its
origin. And yet, it should now take its place in Chaffers and Church who
know it not. Our dilemma is solved by Mr. May himself, who seems, in his
usual casual modest way, to have attached no importance to it, and who,
from subsequent inquiries, has only a very superficial knowledge which
would not satisfy a ceramic maniac, to say nothing of a family
historian. "That mug was made," says Mr. May, "by my grandfather. I
don't know much more about him than he knows about me; but if you are
interested in china, you may care for some details which may help you to
hunt it up. He was a potter in the Midlands--if you want to be
particular, at Snead, in Staffordshire--and, I believe, was fairly well
off; for the design, which is that of a hunt, was made to commemorate
his becoming the master of the local hounds. If you say that his name is
not given in any of the handbooks, I am sure you are right; but all I
know is, the firm, whatever it was called, came to grief owing to the
war--and I can't tell you what war; but it was not the China war." Here
the student of heredity will discern the rude germ of the artistic
temperament which has so developed in the third generation. It was in
the interests of the hereditary artistic strain that Mr. May was induced
to tell the story. He is not so impressed as are many people with the
necessity of having a grandfather, and knows no more about him than is
related above. Mr. May's father was apprenticed as an engineer to George
Stephenson, and worked in the drawing office of the great engineer at
Newcastle, where he met his wife. She was a Miss Macarthy, and her
father was Eugene Macarthy, who belonged to an old theatrical family
connected with the management of the New Theatre, Wolverhampton. An old
bill on satin struck to commemorate a "Bespeak" performance, "under the
distinguished patronage of Lord Wrottesley," gives Eugene Macarthy as
playing Lord Tinsel in _The Hunchback_, and Jenkins, in _Gretna Green_;
or, _The Biter Bit_, on Friday, May 9th, 1845. In this bill Mr. James
Bennett was the Master Walter; H. Lacy the Modus; Mrs. W. Rignold the
Julia, and Miss Fanny Wallack, Helen.

Mr. May's father was unlucky in life. He started a brass-foundry, but,
as your host puts it, his partner cleared off with all the brass; and a
consulting-engineer business was not much more satisfactory. Mr. Phil
May was born in 1864, shortly after the collapse of the brass-foundry,
at Wortley, an outlying manufacturing district of Leeds. His father died
when he was nine years old, and his schooldays, as he tells you,
commenced early in the School Board era. At that time the new officials
were very alert, so he had one year's scholastic education. He was a
little delicate fellow, and was made a butt of by the other boys; and he
was the victim of many practical jokes.

"My artistic career," Mr. May tells you, "may be said to have begun
when I was about twelve, at which time the Grand Theatre, Leeds, opened.
The local scene-painter was a man called Fox, a brother of Charles Fox,
and I became acquainted with his son, who helped to mix the distemper.
Young Fox and other boys called Ford, Sammy Stead, and I used to
rehearse pantomimes. Our stage was a back street, and our scenery was
designed with a stick in the gutter; but we omitted nothing. The
star-traps were all marked out, and we made our descents by flinging
ourselves on our faces in the muddy road. I was always a sprite, and
carried 'The Book of Fate,' which had a prominent place in all our
pantomimes."

Mr. May used to sketch sections of other people's designs of costumes
for use in the ward-robe room, and eventually got to designing comic
dresses and suggestions for masks and make-ups in the property-room.
This brought him orders for actor's portraits, for which he received at
first a shilling, and later five shillings. Remuneration bred
independence, and he took to living with three or four other boys, their
lodgings costing five shillings a week. After a year or two of this
life, the late Fred Stimpson, who had a travelling burlesque company,
engaged May to play small parts and do six sketches every week to serve
as window-bills in the various small towns they visited. His
remuneration was twelve shillings a week, and on this he lived for two
or more years. After that, about 1873, he got an engagement to draw for
a small local comic journal, called _The Yorkshire Gossip_, which died
after four weeks. In 1882 Mr. May was engaged to design the dresses for
the Leeds pantomime, and flushed with success, or sickened with the
squalid hand-to-hand life he had led since he was a boy--he was then a
full-grown man of seventeen--he made up his mind to burn his boats and
come to London, and _there_ he became a tragedian. His finances
consisted of one sovereign. Fifteen shillings and five-pence halfpenny
bought him a third-class ticket, and vanity and temptation cost him four
shillings and sixpence at the Gaiety Bar. "But what," he adds, "did it
all matter? I was in London--the lap of luxury. I remembered my aunt,
Mrs. Hanner, who had married again, an actor called Fred Morton, and I
looked them up at St. John Street Road, Islington." Mr. May does not
think they were very glad to see him; but they took him in, gave him
food and a night's lodging, and next day his new uncle, after showing
him the sights of London, put him in the Leeds train. He got out,
however, at the next station and walked back. Chance led him towards
Clapham way. It was winter and he tried to get work, till he was too
tired to walk and too cold and hungry to speak. He begged the broken dry
biscuits at the public-houses; he quenched his thirst at the street
fountains. The best bit of luck he had was when he induced a child on
the Suspension Bridge to part with his bread and bacon in exchange for a
walking-stick. He led a terrible life of privation, and by night slept
in the Park, on the Embankment, or in a cart in the Market near the
stage-door of the Princess's Theatre. He was too proud to go to his
relations or to Mr. Wilson Barrett. The first bit of real luck he had
was in meeting with the keeper of a photograph shop near Charing Cross.
He took May's drawing of Irving, Toole and Bancroft, and published it.
It was a partnership arrangement, and the publisher lost about L5 in the
venture. But though he was nearly as hard up as Mr. May was, when he had
any money, he used often to take him to a shop near the old Pavilion and
give him a dinner of beef _a la mode_. "It was good!" Mr. May tells
you. A Mr. Rising who played at the Comedy Theatre, introduced Mr. May
to Lionel Brough, who purchased the original sketch of Irving, Bancroft
and Toole for L2 2s., and introduced him to a little paper called
_Society_, for which he did some drawings. But between these periods Mr.
May suffered long spells of penury, when he would have been glad to have
taken up his position with a handkerchief full of broken chalks and
drawn on the pavement. At last a drawing of Mr. Bancroft in _Society_
brought him an introduction to Mr. Edward Russell, who introduced him to
the management of the _St. Stephen's Review_. It was not then an
illustrated paper, but a Christmas Number was being issued. The
illustrations were already arranged for, so there was nothing for him to
do. The disappointment, or long privation--for he was only eighteen at
the time--or both, brought on an illness, and he returned to Leeds. A
telegram from Mr. Russell brought him to London. The illustrations for
the Christmas Number would not do, and Mr. May was asked to do them all
himself--cartoon, illustrations, cover, and initials--in a week! He
hired a room in a small hotel near the Princess's, and worked day and
night, finished the whole thing, and was paid. He remained in his humble
lodgings till his money was gone, and he used, as he says, to "go out
for breakfast and dinner," which meant walking about for appearances'
sake. The proprietor of the hotel in question, who was also a waiter at
a club, found him out, and when he came home at three or four in the
morning used to dig him out to share his supper; and when, through sheer
shame, May confessed he could not pay him, he insisted on his remaining
in his house. Mr. Brough introduced Mr. May to Alias the costumier, who
engaged him as designer of the _Nell Gwynne_ dresses, and kept him on to
design pictures for a book, _The Juvenile Shakespeare_, on which they
were to collaborate; but it came to nothing. Then the _St. Stephen's_
started illustrations, and he was employed by it till an agent came from
Australia to discover an artist for the _Sydney Bulletin_. Mr. May
seized the opportunity of going to the antipodes, and went. The fine
air, the warm climate, and the regular food made, as he tells you, a man
of him; but it was the starvation, he adds, which made him the artist he
is.

The rest of Mr. Phil May's story has been told before, and is not
interesting, being one long series of successes, which culminated in his
winning the blue ribbon of black-and-white art, an appointment on
_Punch_, which leaves him free to draw for any other paper that
appreciates his art and can pay his prices.

The story of his early life and struggles is not exceeded in interest,
perhaps, by that of anybody except that of Henri Murger or that of
Honore de Balzac. The _hard_ life he once led has left his features
somewhat _hard_, but it has not soured his disposition. There is nothing
of the cynic in him. He is still careless of everything but his art,
generous to a fault not only with his money, but with his lavish praises
of the work of those who aspire to be his rivals. High and low,
everybody speaks of him as "dear old Phil," and the applause, even of
princes, has not made him a snob. His talents and his temptations would
have made many a boy of more severe training a pickpocket, burglar, or a
gaol bird, as Francois Villon was. It made Phil May an artist, and his
story is one to be remembered as an encouragement instead of a warning.

Of the one hundred and twenty drawings collected in this volume, there
is little to say, for they speak for themselves. For some of them, I am
indebted to Mr. Louis Meyer of 13a Pall Mall, who has enabled me to
complete the series of drawings done at a time when Phil May was, as I
have described him above, a poor, struggling artist. Youth and
enthusiasm, made these drawings bolder than most of his later work, and
the lack of pence, when every line meant pennies, made them more
elaborately finished than those which of late he has made us accustomed
to. But though everyone is satisfied with his present work, I can only
trust that the artistic majority will think with me that he has never
done better than these drawings which are here collected. That at least
is why I have published them.

AUGUSTUS M. MOORE

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[Illustration: THE LEGITIMATE

"'Ow's business, Jacko?"

"Damned bad. What can you expect with this bloomin' opposition!"]

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[Illustration: A QUESTION OF HOSE]

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[Illustration: FALLEN GREATNESS

NATIVE: "Well, yer see, mum, I was once in a very 'igh persition, my
missus used to do all the washin' for the Royal Hotel."]

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[Illustration: "NOT GOLDEN, BUT GILDED"]

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[Illustration: NEW VERSION

THE TEMPTATION OF ANTHONY]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MRS. MARTHA RICKS--"AUNT MARTHA"]

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[Illustration: FATE!

"Owth's Ikey?"

"Vy, Ikeyth's dead."

"You don't thay so. Vy I thor him goin' ter the thinagogue lathst week."

"Vell, ith's all along of that thinagogue that Ikeyth's dead. They was
a-justh coming out, ven someone outside shouted out, 'Sale goin' ter
commenth,' and Ikey was killed in the crush!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES]

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[Illustration: THE NOBLE ART]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE]

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[Illustration: PRO BONO PUBLICO

DISCONTENTED ARTIST: "I wish I had a fortune. I would never paint
again."

GENEROUS "BROTHER-BRUSH": "By Jove, old man, I wish _I_ had one. I'd
give it to you!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE DUKE OF FIFE]

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[Illustration: ACCOMMODATING

CUSTOMER: "I want a respirator, please."

CHEMIST: "I'm afraid, sir, we haven't one your size in stock, but if you
will wait until I go and get a tape-measure, I will get you one made!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE GERMAN EMPEROR]

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[Illustration: AT A PROVINCIAL BANQUET

FLUNKEY: "Excuse me, mum, but the banquet has commenced, and I can't
admit you. Them's my orders."

SHE: "But the Mayor is here, isn't he?"

FLUNKEY: "Oh, yes, he's here right enough."

SHE: "Well, but I'm his lady."

FLUNKEY: "It makes no difference, mum; I couldn't admit you if you were
his wife."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE DUC D'ORLEANS]

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[Illustration: ALL THE DIFFERENCE

BARMAID: "I beg pardon, I have taken twopence too much. I didn't know
you were an actor. I thought you were only a gentleman!"]

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[Illustration: THREE MEN IN A BOOT]

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[Illustration: A FRIEND IN NEED

INVALID: "I sometimes feel inclined to blow my brains out."

FRIEND: "I shouldn't advise you to try it, old chap, you know you're a
bad shot, and there's nothing much to aim at!"]

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[Illustration: COUSIN JANE: "I want ma to have her portrait painted. Who
would you recommend?"

COUSIN GEORGE: "Stacy Marks."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MRS. BESANT]

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[Illustration: AN UPRIGHT COURSE

PARSON: "Tell me, my good man, do you know the way to heaven?"

OLD CANTANKEROUS (_who doesn't like parsons_): "Well, I sh'd think if
you was to follow your nose, it 'ud be a short cut!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. HENRY GEORGE]

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[Illustration: A BENEVOLENT CONNOISSEUR

"You are!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR CHARLES EWAN SMITH]

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[Illustration: ON THE SANDS

MACHINE MAN (_to bather who has been complaining that he was not taken
out far enough_): "Why, lor bless yer, Sir, I once know'd a man who
could dive in two foot of water."

BATHER: "And where's he buried?"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH]

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[Illustration: WOMANLY

FIRST PHILANTHROPIST: "Cannot we start a society for the employment of
the poor Russian Jews?"

SECOND DITTO: "Well, you see, what could they do? You know that they
can't speak English."

FIRST DITTO: "Oh, get them something to do on the railway, to call out
the names of the stations, for instance."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. ARTHUR ROBERTS]

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[Illustration: OUR CLIMATE

"Look here, that barometer you sold me a month ago has got out of order,
it won't work."

"Well, you see, sir, look what a lot of wear and tear 'e's 'ad
lately."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR GEORGE NEWNES]

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[Illustration: CHEEK

URCHIN: "Hi, governor, remember the warning afore yer starts!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR GEORGE DIBBS]

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[Illustration: INFORMATION WANTED

FAT PARTY: "Say, boy, do my boots want cleaning?"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. HORACE SEDGER]

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[Illustration: FRENCH, AS SHE IS SPOKE

FRENCH PROFESSOR: "How would you pronounce t-o-u-t-a-f-a-i-t?"

PUPIL: "Totty Fay."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE MARQUIS OF QUEENSBERRY]

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[Illustration: HARD LINES

DAY POLICEMAN: (_relieving night-man_): "How's the missus?"

NIGHT POLICEMAN: "I don't know. 'Aven't seen her for ten years."

DAY POLICEMAN: "But ye're living together, aren't yer?"

NIGHT POLICEMAN: "Yes, but she's a charwoman, an' is out all day, an'
I'm out all night. So we've never met since we came back from our
honeymoon."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. W. T. STEAD]

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[Illustration: MUTUAL CONSIDERATION

ART CRITIC: "What do you think of Alma Cadmium's painting?"

ARTIST: "Oh, I think it is superb."

ART CRITIC: "I'm surprised to hear you say that. _He_ says just the
reverse of yours."

ARTIST: "Ah, well, perhaps we're both mistaken!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. WILLIAM MORRIS]

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[Illustration: BRITONS IN PARIS

FIRST ENGLISHMAN: "Where shall we go?"

SECOND ENGLISHMAN (_who does not know that 'relache' means that the
piece is taken off_): "Let's go to the Eden and see 'Relache'!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR HENRY PARKES]

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[Illustration: READY FOR THE BALL

"Phwell and phwat do ye think of me, darlint?"

"Shure ye look jist illigent, but I phwish it wur a mask ball!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

LORD DUFFERIN]

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[Illustration: BEFORE HIS FRIENDS

BROWN (_who likes to be thought a swell, and who has been entrusted with
a friend's brougham for the night_): "Home, John."

JOHN: "Where's that, sir?"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR AUGUSTUS HARRIS]

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[Illustration: SAINTLY POLITENESS]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR EDWARD LAWSON]

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[Illustration: OH, LISTEN TO A TALE OF "WO"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. RUDYARD KIPLING]

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[Illustration: THE NEW JEW

"And so you're going to marry a Christian and disgrace your poor old
father."

"Yeth, but I'm goin' to change my name to Smith."

"But what are you goin' to do with _that_ nose?"]

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[Illustration: "Oh, I say! Ain't 'e in a bloomin' 'urry; 'e wants to git
there before the 'orse."]

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[Illustration: "Yes, I was three months in the desert, with nothing to
drink but camel's milk."

"Didn't it give you the _hump_!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE RIGHT HON. W. V. HARCOURT, M.P.]

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[Illustration: THE VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES

PIOUS FRIEND: "Dear me, I'm sorry to see you coming out of a
public-house, Mr. Brown."

"Couldn't help it, ole fel' (_hic_), I was chucked out!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MONSIEUR ERNEST RENAN]

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[Illustration: A PAIR OF SOILED KIDS]

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[Illustration: LIP.

NEW ARRIVAL (_in Australia_): "What's good for mosquitoes?"

RESIDENT: "You are!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE LATE LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL]

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[Illustration: THE CAPE MAIL

CLERK: "The letter is too heavy. It will require an extra stamp."

SHE: "Won't that make it heavier?"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

LORD RUSSELL OF KILLOWEN]

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[Illustration: "What the deuce are you smoking, old chap?"

"Well, you see, the doctor has limited me to one cigar a day!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. H. M. STANLEY]

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[Illustration: INFORMATION

OBLIGING DRIVER (_to country visitor, who is trying to see London from
the top of a 'bus in an intense fog_): "That there's the Halbert
Memorial, but you can't see it!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

LORD ALINGTON]

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[Illustration: INQUISITIVE

"Oh, ma! Are those what they call sea legs?"]

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[Illustration: A HOWLING SWELL]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE RT. HON. A. J. BALFOUR, M.P.]

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[Illustration: AN IDLE FELLOW

VISITOR: "I hear you've had the celebrated Mr. Abbey, the artist,
staying with you down here."

PROPRIETOR OF OLD-FASHIONED INN: "Yes, sir, an' he be the _laziest_ man
I ever came across. He do nothing but dror and paint all day!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE L1,000 PER NIGHT-INGALE]

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[Illustration: GRANDPAPA (_to Tommy, who has just come home from
school_): "And did you get a good place in your class at the last
examination?"

TOMMY: "Yes; next to the stove."]

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[Illustration: POODLES]

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[Illustration: A PLEASANT PROSPECT

"Grandma, shall I have a face like you when I get old?"

"Yes, my dear, if you're good."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

THE RT. HON. W. E. GLADSTONE]

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[Illustration: ON THE SANDS

"Lor', 'Arry, ain't it 'ot?"

"Well, sit down, an' I'll blow yer."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN, M.P.]

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[Illustration: REALISM

COMEDIAN: "The critic of the _Back Alley Chronicle_ described me as
giving a very 'saponaceous' rendering to my part. What does
'saponaceous' mean, dear boy?"

TRAGEDIAN (_with learned dignity_): "Cudgel not thy brains with words
higher than thy bloomin' salary."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MONSIEUR EMILE ZOLA]

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[Illustration: AT THE RIDING SCHOOL

NERVOUS PUPIL: "When do you think I shall go on the road?"

RIDING MASTER: "Very soon, if you don't sit better than that."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

LORD TENNYSON]

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[Illustration: NO CHANCE

"Always take care of your money, my son."

"I can't, you never give me any."]

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[Illustration: SHE: "But I really thought you were much taller than you
are, Mr. Smith."

HE: "Oh, no! Not a bit, I assure you!"]

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[Illustration: A PROMINENT FEATURE

"Hillo, Bill! What's the matter with your nose?"

"I don't know. Think my conscience must have pricked it."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

SIR BLUNDELL MAPLE, M.P.]

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[Illustration: FORCE OF HABIT

PRISON PHOTOGRAPHER (_who has just obtained the post, to sitter, who is
about to undergo twenty years' penal servitude_): "Now sir, look
pleasant!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. ALBERT CHEVALIER]

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[Illustration: THE UNKINDEST CUT

HE: "I grew a beard and moustache for ten years, and I forgot what I was
like without, so I just shaved to see."

SHE: "And weren't you shocked?"]

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[Illustration: "Hillo, Bill--blind again?"

"I beg pardon, I'm not blind at all; asha-matterer-fac, I can see
twiche-ash-much as you."]

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[Illustration: "Say, would you be so stupid as to lend me 5s.?"]

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[Illustration: IN HER WAR-PAINT]

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[Illustration: FAST AND LOOSE]

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[Illustration: OBVIOUS]

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[Illustration: MONSIEUR SARDOU]

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[Illustration: PLEASANT MEMORIES

"Ah, it's many a day since I 'ad it!"]

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[Illustration: SHE: "It must be a dreadful thing to become old and ugly.
I should much prefer to die young."

HE: "You'll have to hurry up then!"]

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[Illustration: "I have a Song to Sing O."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. BEERBOHM TREE]

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[Illustration: A NASTY ONE

WRYMUG: "I assure you the blamed fog was so thick I couldn't find the
way to my own mouth."

QUIZZER: "What! When it's just round the corner!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

GENERAL BOOTH]

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[Illustration: NEW USE FOR A CLOTHES-PEG

HOW TO OBTAIN A GOOD FRENCH ACCENT]

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[Illustration: MISTRESS (_to new cook_): "Now are you sure you have had
experience?"

COOK: "Oh, yes, mum! I've been in 'undreds of places."]

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[Illustration: PICKSOME

LITTLE SPRIGGINS: "Yes, we always dine at a private table. You see, my
wife is so fond of picking bones."

OLD JOKER: "I suppose that's why she picked you."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

LORD MAYOR SAVORY]

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[Illustration: THE WRONG SHOP

(_Carol singing in Hatton Garden_) "Christians Awake!"]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA]

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[Illustration: BAKERS' STRIKE

They've recently discovered that they'll never want a feed
As long as they think fit to _loaf_ the less our bread we _knead_.]

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[Illustration: SHE: Oh, John, we're next the engine."

HE: "Never mind, we'll get there all the quicker."]

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[Illustration: THE BOY: "Grandpa, is a Jewess a She-brew?"]

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[Illustration: SAVAGE SOUTH AFRICA

"A PRIOR ENGAGEMENT."]

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[Illustration: THE NORTH POLE]

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[Illustration: SUGGESTIVE

SMALL BOY: "Hi! Can you spare a _copper_?"]

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[Illustration: LEG-ISLATION]

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[Illustration: INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT

YOKEL: "Say, sir, does I put this 'er stamp on meself?"

POST-ASSISTANT: "On yourself. No, on the letter, you booby."]

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[Illustration: THE CONSUMING PASSION

"Have you heard that Jones has given up 'booze'?"

"No, I wouldn't believe it."

"But he has, and he's dead."]

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[Illustration: THE DOWN TRAIN

CROSSING SWEEPER: "'Ere, if you're goin' to sweep the bloomin'
crossin' yerself, I'm hoff."]

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[Illustration: RETIRED BURGLAR: "Oh, my son! Always remember that it is
wrong to steal on Sunday."]

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[Illustration: ON THE BRAIN

MR. PUNCH]