No. IV.—THE WILD DUCK. ACT I. At WERLE's house. In front a richly-upholstered study. (R.) a green-baize door leading to WERLE's office. At back, open folding doors, revealing an elegant dining-room, in which a brilliant Norwegian dinner-party is going on. Hired Waiters in profusion. A glass is tapped with a knife. Shouts of "Bravo!" Old Mr. WERLE is heard making a long speech, proposing—according to the custom of Norwegian... more...

"Great Scot!" [Extorted, by circumstances beyond his control, from a stolid but unsuccessful Saxon Shootist at Bisley and Wimbledon, after the match at the latter place between picked twenties of the London Scottish and the London Rifle Brigade, won easily by the former team.] Oh! the Scot lot are all cracks at a shot, And extremely successful at Hunting the Pot. This particular "Saxon" the hump has got, Being licked by a team which is... more...

URBI ET ORBI. Mr. PUNCH returns thanks for the anticipatory congratulations on the occasion of his Jubilee, and takes this opportunity of informing his friends—which means Everybody Everywhere—that the 50th anniversary of his natal day is July 18 prox., which day Mr. PUNCH hereby gives full and entire permission to the aforesaid Everyone Everywhere to keep as a whole Holiday, and do in a general way, and to the utmost of their... more...

CANCEL, OR RECALL. The World last week sounded a note about the compulsory retirement, by reason of age, from one of the large Revenue Departments, of a gentleman who has the great honour to be the son of "the most distinguished Irishman of this century." If this sentence has really been passed authoritatively, which Mr. Punch takes leave to doubt, then said "Authority" will do well to recall it in favour of the son of the Liberator, which his... more...

LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. No. VII.—TO VANITY. DEAR VANITY, Imagine my feelings when I read the following letter. It lay quite innocently on my breakfast-table in a heap of others. It was stamped in the ordinary way, post-marked in the ordinary way, and addressed correctly, though how the charming writer discovered my address I cannot undertake to say; in fact, there was nothing in its outward appearance to distinguish it from the rest of... more...

THE WAITERS' STRIKE. (At the Naval Exhibition.)   The German Waiter waxeth fat; he grows exceeding proud; He is a shade more kicksome than can fairly be allowed. The British Press goes out to dine—the Teuton, they relate, Throws down his napkin like a gage, and swears he will not wait. Now there are many proverbs—some are good and some are not— But the Teuton was misled who cried, "Strike while the... more...

CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. V.—THE DUFFER AT CRICKET. To hear my remarks on the Cricket, in the Pavilion, you might think that I had been a great player entirely, in my day. "Who is that fine old English sportsman," you might ask, "who seems to have been so intimate with MYNN, and FULLER PILCH, and CARPENTER, and HAYWARD and TARRANT and JACKSON and C.D. MARSHAM? No doubt we see in him the remains of a sterling Cricketer of the old school."... more...

HOSPITALITY À LA MODE. ["Programmes and introductions are going out of fashion at balls."—Weekly Paper.] SCENE—Interior of a Drawing-room during a dance. Sprightly Damsel disengaged looking out for a partner. She addresses cheerful-looking Middle-aged Gentleman, who is standing near her. She. I am not quite sure whether I gave you this waltz? He. Nor I. But I hope you did. I am afraid it is nearly over, but we... more...

MORE THAN SATISFIED! (With Mr. Punch's apologies to the Daily Telegraph's "Academic Enthusiast.") "She-Pantaloons? seedy? Now, do we look like it?" The speaker was a tall, robust maiden with fair hair; on her knee was an edition (without notes) of the Anabasis of Xenophon, and by her side was Liddell and Scott's Lexicon, in which she had just been tracking an exceptionally difficult—but, let me hasten to add, a perfectly... more...

VENICE RESERVED. (A Sketch from a Numbered Stall at Olympia.) On the Stage, the Scene represents "A Public Place before the Arsenal," where a number of artisans are apparently busily engaged in making horse-shoes on cold anvils in preparation for the launch of "The Adriatica." On extreme R. enter Antonio, who expresses commercial embarrassment by going through a sort of dumb-bell exercise on a bridge. On extreme L. enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and... more...