Chapter I: Part 1

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON

Designed to provide in a series
of volumes, each complete in itself,
the cream of our national humour,
contributed by the masters of
comic draughtsmanship and the
leading wits of the age to "Punch,"
from its beginning in 1841 to the
present day

MR. PUNCH AT HOME

MR. PUNCH AT
HOME

THE COMIC SIDE
OF DOMESTIC
LIFE

AS PICTURED BY

F. H. TOWNSEND, LEWIS BAUMER, C. SHEPPERSON, DAVID WILSON, FRED PEGRAM, GUNNING KING, L. RAVENHILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, A. W. MILLS, G. L. STAMPA, C. E. BROCK, A. S. BOYD, PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, AND OTHERS

_WITH 130 ILLUSTRATIONS_

PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"

THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages
fully illustrated_

LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN

IN SLIPPERED EASE

Just because MR. PUNCH is eminently representative of all our national characteristics is he something of a good old-fashioned Philistine in his domestic circle. We find him, in his notions of home life, distinctly partial to the cosy comfort that is associated the world over with "The Englishman's Castle." He enjoys the delights of his own fireside, the pleasures of his table, the society of his womenkind, the casual visits of his friends, no less, and perhaps much more, than the formal functions to which the phrase "At Home" is also applied.

"Mr. Punch at Home" is in a sense the complement of "Mr. Punch in Society." It touches on musical evenings, dances, the social life generally, but more particularly the domestic side of it--the servant difficulty, the humours of the kitchen and the butler's pantry. It gives glimpses of home life in the country as well as in town; among the poor as well as among the rich; in flats and lodgings as well as in suburban villas and the mansions of the West End.

John Leech dealt largely with the servant girl trouble, but as many of his jokes were topical and have lost most of their point with the passing of the topic, and as others have an old-fashioned air with them and are not so smart or so pointed as those by later artists, preference has been given to the moderns.

MR. PUNCH AT HOME

THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--"You remember that party at Madam Gelasma's, to hear Joachim, Rubinstein, and the Henschels, and De Soria--quite a _small_ party?"

"No; I wasn't there!" "No? Ah--well--it _was_ very select!"

* * * * *

THE GREATEST QUESTION OF THE DAY.--"My dear, what will you have for dinner?"

* * * * *

OUR WHIST PARTY.--_Major MacFlush_ (_at close of rubber, to partner_). Didn't ye see me call for trumps?

_Partner_ (_a new hand_). You may have called, Major, but I never heard you!

* * * * *

UNDESIRABLE BRIC-A-BRAC.--Family jars.

* * * * *

MEM. FOR YOUNG HOUSEWIVES.--To make both ends meet--burn the candle at 'em.

* * * * *

"PLEASANT it is when the woods are green," as paterfamilias observed when all the doors in his new villa took to warping.

* * * * *

THE DEAR THINGS.--_He._ You know Jones's wife, an old schoolfellow of yours; tell me, is she musical?

_She (her dearest friend)._ I should say decidedly not, or she wouldn't be so fond of hearing the sound of her own voice.

* * * * *

THE KITCHEN-RANGE-FINDER.--The policeman!

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR THE LADY OF THE HOUSE.--Don't worry about trifles; make a blanc-mange.

* * * * *

_Visitor._ "Do you have any difficulty in getting servants?"

_Hostess._ "None whatever. We've had ten different ones in the last month!"

* * * * *

WANTED!

The Lady and Gentleman Help Association can find excellent positions for--

A Lady Help with twenty thousand a year, who can help her husband to enjoy existence.

A Lady Help with deft fingers, who can open oysters, peel walnuts and prawns, and make toast.

A Lady Help who can draft a speech that will suit an ex-Secretary of State at a Social Science Congress.

A Lady Help who can do the same for a mild and moderate Bishop at a Church Congress--extra wages will be given for assistance in the composition of charges.

A Lady Help who can drive Four-in-Hand, for a coach to be started from Hatchett's Hotel to Coventry.

A Lady Help who is absolutely helpless--none need apply unless they can show that they are good for nothing.

Also--

A Gentleman Help who can nurse babies, and comb their hair carefully.

_Mrs. Smith._ "He does, indeed; but you can't think how it amuses the
baby!"]

A Gentleman Help who can choose good cigars, and assist in smoking them.

A Gentleman Help who can work a sewing machine and a private apparatus for the distillation of whiskey.

A Gentleman Help who can assist the Sultan of Turkey to pay the interest on his debts.

A Gentleman Help who can help the clerk of the weather to turn on a little more sunshine.

* * * * *

AT THE SMITHSON'S DANCE.--_Young Innocent._ "I beg your pardon, did I tread on your foot that time?"

_Sweet Girl (very sweetly)._ "Oh, no, not _that_ time!"

* * * * *

"MARY, there's three months' dust in the drawing-room!"

"That isn't my fault, mum. You know I've only bin here a fortnight!"

* * * * *

"The _baker_ don't matter, 'm. The _milkman's_ bin!"]

* * * * *

_Doctor (to Mrs. Perkins, whose husband is ill)._ "Has he had any lucid intervals?"

_Mrs. Perkins (with dignity)._ "'E's 'ad nothink except what you ordered, Doctor!"

_She._ "Damages! I should have thought she'd have asked for _repairs_."]

_Deaf Old Gent._ "Eh? I didn't quite--"

_Young Lady._ "_Such--a--fright!_"

_Deaf Old Gent._ "Ah, yes--I agree with you--so she is!"]

* * * * *

WHY, NATURALLY.--"Cook, ought I to write Salvation Army in _converted commas_?"

* * * * *

ORTHODOX.--_The Rev. Alexis Tonsher (going round his new parish)._ "Of course, you observe Lent, Mrs. Rickyard?"

_Mrs. Rickyard._ "Oh, yes, sir, we allus hev pancakes o' Shrove Tuesday!"

* * * * *

AN EXCUSE.--_Mistress._ "Another breakage, Jane? And a wedding present, too! How ever did you do it?"

_Jane (sobbing)._ "They al--ways break--when I--drop 'em!"

* * * * *

APPRECIATIVE.--_Amateur Tenor._ "I shall just sing one more song, and then I shall go."

_Sarcastic Friend._ "Couldn't you go first!"

* * * * *

"ENTERING THE SOCIAL CIRCLE."--Making the first cut into a round of beef.

* * * * *

_He._ "What pretty hair that Miss Dashwood has--like spun gold!"

_She (her rival)._ "Yes--fourteen carrot."

* * * * *

_General Blaxer._ "Ah, partner, do you--er--discard from--er--strength
or weakness?"

_Mr. Mildman._ "Er--er--generally from _fright_!"]

_His Partner._ "Coward!"]

* * * * *

THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--_Tomlinson._ "Good-bye, Miss Eleanora----"

_Miss Eleanora._ "But you've _already_ said good-bye to me, Mr. Tomlinson?"

_Tomlinson (who is always ready with some pretty speech)._ "Have I, really? Well, one can't do a pleasant thing too often, you know!"

* * * * *

FELINE AMENITIES.--_Fair Hostess (who is proud of her popularity)._ "Yes; I flatter myself there's not a door-bell in the whole street that's so often rung as mine!"

_Fair Visitor._ "Well, dear, _I_ had to ring it _five times_!"

* * * * *

BACHELOR HOUSEKEEPING.--_Mr. Brown._ "Pray, Jane, what on earth is the reason I am kept waiting for my breakfast in this way?"

_Jane._ "Please, sir, the rolls isn't come, and there's no bread in the house!"

_Mr. Brown._ "Now, upon my word! How can you annoy me with such trifles? No _bread?_ then bring me some _toast_."

[_Exit Jane in dismay._

HOUSEHOLD RECIPES.

_To destroy black-beetles._--Turn a pack of fox-hounds into the kitchen.

_To cure smoky chimneys._--Discontinue fires.

_To get rid of ghosts._--Use disinfecting fluid copiously.

_To expel dry-rot._--Soak the places affected with the finest dry sherry.

_To get the servants up early in the morning._--Send them to bed early at night.

_To revive the fire._--Tie up the front-door knocker in a white kid glove.

_To prevent the beer going too fast._--Possess the key to the mystery.

_To avoid draughts._--Don't take any.

_To destroy moths._--Collect butterflies.

_How to keep plate clean._-Wrap it up in silver paper.

_How to dispose of old newspapers._--Put them into the brown study.

* * * * *

THE MOST CONTINUOUS BREAK WE KNOW. Our housemaid's.

_New Scullery Maid._ "No, my lady. I want to leave next week. I can't
stand these late dinners. All the ladies as I've ever been connected
with have just took a bit of something in their 'ands, and there wasn't
all this washing up!"]

* * * * *

LATIN AT THE BRIDGE TABLE.--_Sursum-corda_--"I double hearts."

* * * * *

STIRRING EVENT.--Mixing a plum-pudding.

* * * * *

SENTIMENT FOR THE SERVANTS' HALL.--May we never smell any powder but what is white!

* * * * *

GOOD KNIFE FOR FRUIT.--"_Le Sabre de mon Pear._"

* * * * *

KITCHEN DRESSERS.--Fine cooks.

* * * * *

SELF-RESPECT.--_Cook (to fellow-servant who has been after a new place)._ "Well, 'Liza, will it suit?"

_Eliza._ "Not if I knows it! Why, when I got there, blest if there wasn't the two young ladies of the 'ouse both a-usin' of one piano at the same time! 'Well,' thinks I, 'this _his_ a comin' down in the world!' So I thought I was best say good mornin'!"

* * * * *

THE BACK-DOOR BELL.--A pretty kitchen maid.

_Son of the House._ "I'm there now."]

* * * * *

NOT SO BAD AS THEY SEEM.--Mistresses show more consideration for their servants than is generally supposed. Not long ago Mrs. Fidgitt was heard telling Mary Ann that she had been scouring the whole house for her.

* * * * *

HOW WE ARRANGE OUR LITTLE DINNERS.--

_Mistress._ "Oh, cook, we shall want dinner for four this evening. What do you think, besides the joint, of ox-tail-soup, lobster patés, and an entrée--say, beef?"

_Cook._ "Yes,'m--Fresh, or Austr----?"

_Mistress._ "Let's see? It's only the Browns--tinned will do!"

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR A SERVANTS' HALL.--"They also serve who only stand and wait."--_Milton._

* * * * *

"COOK'S" EXCURSIONIST.--Her policeman on a trip.

* * * * *

SWEET SIMPLICITY.--_Visitor._ "Jane, has your mistress got a boot-jack?"

_Maid-of-all-work._ "No, sir; please, sir, I clean all the boots, sir!"

_Riggles._ "Honly as a _guest_, mum."]

_Cook (with feeling)._ "Well, mum, I'm truly sorry for you. It must be
quite _hawful_ to live with a gentleman of that sort."]

_Mrs. Snooks (appearing at door)._ "What's the matter, Mary? _It's only
master!_"]

* * * * *

EVERYTHING COMES TO THE MAN WHO WAITS.--_Country Rector's Wife (engaging manservant)._ And can you wait at dinner?

_Man._ Aw, yes, mum; I'm never that hoongry but I can wait till you've done.

* * * * *

UNCONSCIOUSLY APPROPRIATE.--_Jane._ 'Allo, Hemma, what are yer a-crying about?

_Hemma._ Missus 'as given me the sack because I knocked over some of them hornaments she calls "break-a-break."

* * * * *

_Gentleman (to Thomas, who has given notice)._ "Oh, certainly! You can go, of course; but, as you have been with me for nine years, I should like to know the reason?"

_Thomas._ "Why, sir, it's my _feelins_. You used always to read prayers, sir, yourself--and since Miss Wilkins has bin here, she bin a-reading of 'em. Now I can't _bemean_ myself by sayin 'Amen' to a guv'ness."

* * * * *

THE FORCE OF HABIT.--Our coachman, when he waits at table, always commits the same fault: he whips away the plates too soon.

_Mabel (not in her first youth)._ "First of all he held my hand and
told my fortune; and then, Evie, he gazed into my face ever so long,
and said he could read my thoughts! Wasn't that _clever_ of him, dear?"

_Evie._ "Oh, I suppose he read between the lines, darling."]

* * * * *

NEW VERSION.--It was the reflection of a thoughtful hall-porter that the self-denying man must be the man who says he is not at home when he is.

* * * * *

A DISCHARGE WITHOUT A REPORT.--A servant dismissed without a character.

* * * * *

DIAGNOSIS.--"Is the rector better to-day, Jarvis?"--"No, sir; not any better, sir!"

"Has he got a _locum tenens_?"--"No, sir. Same old pain in the back!"

_Visitor._ "Well, you see, I've been getting rather stouter lately, and
it's such a comfort to know that I _really_ have _no body_!"]

BELGRAVIAN MAXIMS

BY A FASHIONABLE VALET.

The real essence of a gentleman is perfume.

You know the snob by his hands--the gentleman by his boots.

It is easier to pardon a hole in a person's manners than one in his coat.

In the noblest park there are mushrooms.

One grows rich, but one is born elegant.

With men, as with monuments, position is everything.

We make our money in London, but we spend it in Paris.

Society has but little faith, except in scandal.

Joke with an inferior, and you tumble to the level of that inferior.

There are many stylish men, but very few men of style.

Shopkeepers are the counters in the game of life. When we have no ready money, we are only too glad to use them.

A lady is an angel that ought never to touch the earth, excepting when she is stepping from the door to her carriage.

Anything that reveals a compromise with one's pocket is inelegant, as for instance, Berlin gloves. In my opinion, naked-handed poverty is a thousand times preferable.

You can generally tell "a son of the soil" by the amount he carries in his nails.

England gives us meat, and France sends us cooks.

The gentleman is known at once by his walk, the lady by her carriage.

Credit is the homage that trade pays (and sometimes pays very dearly) to rank.

* * * * *

_Not so Bad as Volodyovski._--_Lady (to applicant for nursemaid's place)._ What is your name?

_Applicant._ Hermyntrude, mum.

_Lady._ Good heavens! That would never do. Can't you think of something shorter?

_Applicant (after a pause)._ Well, mum, my young man allus calls me Carrots.

* * * * *

_Simple Fractures._--Servants' breakages.

* * * * *

_The Beau Ideal of a Cook._--One who cooks a rabbit _to a hare_!

* * * * *

_A Servant on Spiritualism._--It is fortunate that rapping spirits, which seem very tricksy beings, do not seem to be able to move street-knockers. Otherwise we should continually be going to answer a rap at the door, and coming back, saying, "Please'm only a ghost."

* * * * *

THE FORCE OF HABIT.--_Missus (who is acting as amanuensis to Mary)._ "Is there anything more you wish me to say, Mary?"

_Mary._ "No, marm, except just to say, please excuse bad writin' and spellin'."

* * * * *

A TRIUMPH IN COOKERY.--When the cook makes a hash of the marrow-bones.

* * * * *

_Mistress (to new maid)._ "Well, Mary, I've tried to apportion you different duties for each day in the week, so that you may have variety in your work. You've been here a month now. Just tell me which day you like best?"

_Maid._ "Please, mum, _my day out"!_

_He._ "Anyhow, one of us married you!"]

_Maid of all Work._ "Yes, sir, and she say she won't, sir, not if you
was to hoffer 'er the 'ole halphabet!"]

_Jenkins._ "Nothing whatever, sir. But I do not suppose there is
anything which intellect may not overcome!!"]

* * * * *

SEASONABLE.--A servant, to whom money is an object, during the present winter offers (unbeknown) to let out his master's study fire by the hour. For terms apply to the Pantry, Belgravia.

* * * * *

"SLIGHTLY MIXED."--_Mistress (to maid, who has just received a month's notice)._ "I would rather not give you a character at all. But if you insist upon it, of course I shall tell the truth about you."

_Maid._ "And if you do, ma'am, I shall suttingly bring an action for defimation o' character!"

* * * * *

THE FLUNKEY MILLENNIUM..--When every _valet_ shall be exalted

* * * * *

INHABITED HOUSE DUTY.--The servants'. And I wish they'd do it.--Yours, paterfamilias.

* * * * *

SANCTA SIMPLICITAS.--_Housemaid._ "We're getting up a sweepstakes, Mrs. Thrupp. Won't you join?"

_Housekeeper._ "Gracious me, child; not I! Why if I _won_ a horse I shouldn't know what to _do_ with him!"

METROPOLITAN HOUSEHOLDERS' CLUB

We understand it is in contemplation to get up a club for the purpose of endeavouring to improve the quality of servants. The indifference of the material is very much against the project, but the effort is worth making. A few old housekeepers have determined to set the scheme on foot by offering a few prizes, of which the following is a catalogue:--

For the Cook who has lived longest in one place without including whole candles under the general head of kitchen-stuff

_One pound_

For the Nurse who has walked oftenest in the Park without speaking to a Horse-guard

_Ten shillings_

For the Housemaid who has remained longest in a situation in which the cat has not been in the habit of doing wilful damage to the crockery

_Five shillings_

_Maid._ "Well, mum, she said she was very pleased _when I left_!"]

For the Cook who has been the greatest number of years in service without resigning her own heart and her mistress's cold meat to the devouring passion of a policeman

_Fifteen shillings_

For the Nurse who has remained the longest time in a place without mistaking the children's linen for her own, and given the baby the fewest private punches and pinches

_Seven shillings_

For the Female Servant who has set off on Sunday evenings to go to church, and found her way there oftenest

_Five shillings_

For the Page who has opened the smallest number of notes in the longest period of service

_Half-a-Crown_

For the Groom who has best carried out the principles of protection with regard to his master's corn

_Ten shillings_

For the Footman who has worn the fewest of his master's shirts

_One shilling_

The above are only a few preliminary prizes, but if the scheme can be effectually carried out, there is every intention to offer rewards for a variety of other qualities. In the present day, when servants are always "bettering" themselves, which means growing worse and worse, the project of a prize club for this troublesome class seems fraught with the most promising prospects.

* * * * *

_Mr. B._ "Yes, if you like. I'll sing one just before I go."

_Hostess_. "Well, _do_ sing _now_, and perhaps Miss Slowboy will
accompany you."]

* * * * *

_Mistress._ "Did Mrs. Brown say anything when you told her I was out?"

_Maid._ "Yes, 'm. Mrs. Brown, mum, said, 'Thank Heaven!' mum."

* * * * *

OUT OF HER ELEMENT.--The last place which you would expect a woman to like is--a stillroom.

* * * * *

"CUISINE."--_Mistress._ "Susan, we're thinking of having a pig's head boiled for dinner. You understand it, I suppose?"

_Cook._ "Oh no, m'um. I told you before I came I didn't understand game!"

* * * * *

"IN THE QUEEN'S NAME."--_Martha the Cook (to Lizzy the Housemaid)._ "'Ere's an 'orrible mistake. In 'is subscripshion list the heditor 'as spelt your name with a "hi" and a "he" instead of a "y.""

_Mistress (returning)._ "Any one to see me, Mary?"

_Mary._ "Yes, mem. An insanitary spectre."

[_But it was only the sanitary inspector who had called
regarding some alterations that were going on._
]

"THE FROGS" AT OXFORD.

SCENE--_Parlour of Private House, Oxford._ TIME-_Quite recently. Cook wishes to speak to her Mistress._

_Cook._ Please, 'm, I should like to go out this evening, 'm, which it's to see them Frogs at the New Theayter.

_Mistress._ But it's all Greek, and you won't understand it.

_Cook._ O yes, 'm. I once saw the Performin' Fleas, and they was French, I believe, leastways a Frenchman were showin' of 'em, and I understood all as was necessary.

[_After this, of course she obtains permission._

* * * * *

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.--_Cook (to Vicar's Wife)._ "And what's to be done with the sole that was saved yesterday, ma'am?"

* * * * *

_Bucolic Boot-boy._ "I say, Sarah, wotever be a creematorium?"

_Metropolitan Maid._ "Oh, you _are_ an ignorant boy! Why, it's French for a milkshop, of course!"

_Maid._ "Oh, no, mum. It's quite fashionable. Cook has just bought one
exactly like it!"]

_Master._ "Well, ask him to take a chair."

_Domestic._ "He's taking 'em all, and the table too. He comes from the
furniture shop!"]

_Delightful Foreigner (wishing to be polite)._ "Indeed--indeed I have,
and I assure you I did not wish to eat anything else for days after!"]

LADY HELPS

On this subject much nonsense has been written. They are quite as suitable (perhaps more so than otherwise) to the cottage as to the castle. The cottage need not have a name spelt with a Celtic series of dissonant consonants. A few hints may be advisable to the numerous "Lady Helps" at present in the market.

A Lady may efficiently help the mistress of the household to snub her husband, by adroitly echoing (and improving) the said mistress's remarks of a personal character.

A Lady may help the Cook to produce an original dinner, by suggesting fresh combinations, which will make the said Cook indignant, and even furious.

A Lady may help the Butler effectually, by decanting the '45 port, and shaking it a little first as you would Daffy's Elixir.

A Lady may help the visitors to the house by reading all the letters that may chance to be thrown aside, and taking advantage of any private intelligence they contain.

_Gwendolen._ "It's all right, m'm. I 'aven't 'urt myself!"]

A Lady may help the master of the house by a flirtation in the library, while the mistress is away on a round of visits.

A Lady may help the daughters to quiet talks in the Park with ambitious Curates.

A Lady may possibly help the son and heir to--herself.

You see, there are ladies and ladies, as there are _fagots et fagots_, and _Mr. Punch_ has his suspicions of the Lady Helps of the future.

* * * * *

ADVICE TO SERVANTS OF ALL WORK.--"Learn to labour and to wait."

* * * * *

HAPPY THOUGHT.--_Husband (devoted to spouse and bridge)._ What shall we christen the little dear?

_Wife (still more devoted)._ I've been thinking--why not--_Bridget?_

_Husband (delighted)._ By all means. For luck.

* * * * *

"HARD LINES."--_Mistress (to former Cook)._ "Well, Eliza, what are you doing now?"

_Ex-Cook._ "Well, mum, as you wouldn't give me no character, I've been obliged to marry a soldier!"

_Captain Lovell._ "I assure you--a--I've no voice whatever.
A--unfortunately, I--I'm a _listener_!"]

_Mary._ "Ah, I see, there was the true _ring_ in it!"]

"Very well, Mary. I hope you've shown him in, and asked him to sit
down?"

"Oh, yes, 'm, ah've _loosed 'im into the drawing-room_!"]

HOW TO GROW A PINK OF FASHION

This Pink must be planted in the most aristocratic soil. The mould should be the very mould of form. It grows mostly in the open air, and Belgravia may be looked upon as the great nursery for these Pinks. Several favourable specimens, also, have been reared at the theatres, the Italian and French operas, and similar fashionable forcing houses. It is met with in great profusion at the balls of the nobility. The latter specimen, however, cannot bear the daylight. It is put into a hot bed the first thing when carried home in the morning, and there it remains closed up and almost dead until the evening, when it just begins to lift its drooping head. It is about twelve o'clock at night that it is seen to the most blooming advantage. Your Pink of Fashion is watered with a liquid called champagne, and, if it is at all faint, a little piece of chicken and ham, and a few crumbs of bread, applied to the mouth of the delicate flower, will revive it wonderfully. It is a very tender plant, though it has been known to bloom for two or three seasons. The greatest care, however, is requisite to keep it from the cold, for its beauty is so sensitive, that the slightest neglect will nip it in the bud. The Pink is of several colours, but the white with a beautiful maiden blush is the specimen the most preferred. This Pink usually carries its head very high, and, though not distinguished for any particular amount of scents, still it is eagerly taken in hand in society for its (s)talk. The Pink of Fashion is mostly single, but cases of double Pinks have been recorded. The double (or married) Pink, however, does not excite one half the interest of the one that is single.

_Housemaid._ "Will you sit down, if you please, sir?"]

_Mistress._ "So you want me to read this love-letter to you?"

_Maid_. "If ye plaze, mam. And I've brought ye some cotton-wool ye can
stuff in yer ears while ye rade it!"]

THE SERVANTS' COLLEGE

Mr. Punch rejoices to hear that "the greatest plague of life" has a slight chance of being abated by the establishment of a College for Servants, who will be educated in the most careful way to do justice to their employers--the main idea being that most lucidly stated by the Dean of Saint Patrick's, that it is the chief duty of every servant to ascertain the full amount of his master's income, and to spend the whole of it on his own department. Having been favoured with an early copy of the subjects with which the courses will commence, _Mr. Punch_ is glad to give to this useful undertaking the advantage of his worldwide publicity.

CLASS 1. _Lady Housekeepers._--"How to manage a widower with young children. In three heads: 1, Domestication; 2, Flirtation; 3, Temptation."

CLASS 2. _Cooks._--"How to make the kitchen-fire too hot for the missus, and too cool for the sirloin."

CLASS 3. _Butlers._--"How to substitute Marsala for Madeira, and _Vin ordinaire_ for Château-Lafitte."

CLASS 4. _Lady's-Maids._--"How to look much prettier than the young ladies when there are visitors in the house."

CLASS 5. _Footmen._--"How to make a fortune out of six feet two in height, and calves nineteen inches round."

CLASS 6. _Men and Wives._--"How to keep their quarrels to themselves, and feed their 'incumbrances' in the neighbourhood."

CLASS 7. _Coachmen and Grooms._--"How to make the corn supplied to the stables more useful than if wasted on dumb animals."

CLASS 8. _Housemaids._--"How to train that noble animal, the harmless necessary cat, to break glass and snap up unconsidered trifles."

It can scarcely be doubted, from this preliminary syllabus of lectures, that the new Institution will do much for the comfort, economy, and refinement of our households.

* * * * *

"CHAMBER MUSIC."--Baby!

THE MODERN WOMAN'S VADE MECUM

_Question._ Do you agree with a certain female lecturer, that it is the duty of the fair sex to captivate the other?

_Answer._ Certainly, as cleverness need not be divorced from fascination.

_Q._ You do not object, then, to brains in the abstract?

_A._ No; but as some men have a horror of the blue-stocking, I would cover fine heads with pretty toques.

_Q._ And if a woman has literary tastes, what would you advise?

_A._ That part of her reading should be devoted to the fashion journals, and she should not sacrifice her toilette to her intellect.

_Q._ What is your opinion about latchkeys, visits to the music-halls, and cigarettes?

_A._ That, from a man's point of view, they are played out, and consequently should be abandoned by man's would-be help-mate.

_Q._ What do you think of glasses?

_A._ That, when necessary, they should take the shape of a pince-nez, as it is more becoming than spectacles.

_Q._ Then, before marriage, what should be your treatment of man?

_A._ I should do all I can in my power to please him.

_Q._ And after the nuptial knot had been tied, what then?

_A._ That, as Mr. Rudyard Kipling would observe, is quite another story.

* * * * *

NEW RULES FOR "PIT"

[_On the authority of the Athenæum Club_]

(1) The table shall be firmly clamped to the ground, and the cards shall be of metal not less than ¼ inch thick, with rounded corners.

(2) Any player who speaks in such an audible voice that the position of the roof is altered shall be forced to make the damage good.

(3) No player shall use a megaphone or speaking-trumpet of any kind.

(4) Muffin-bells may only be employed by players who have formed a "corner," and desire to communicate this fact to other players.

(5) If a player has called "corner," and is found to have only eight similar cards in his hand, the game shall be continued without him. His remains may be removed at leisure.

(6) "Progressive Pit" with more than four tables shall only be played in a house which is at least five miles in any direction from other inhabited buildings.

(7) No person who is not a player shall approach while a game is in progress, except in the case when a player faints across the table and so obstructs the play.

* * * * *

SPRING CLEANING

[SCENE--_Spring Gardens._ _Enter Algy_, L.H., _meeting Frankie as he strolls in_, R.H.]

_Algy._ Hallo, old boy! (_Greeting_) I've just had my house papered and painted inside and out.

_Frankie._ Indeed! And--er--(_struck by the novelty_) what sort of paper did you have put _outside_?

[_Exit Algy_, R.H., _and Frankie_, L.H. _Scene closes._

* * * * *

ANSWER TO MARY ANNE.--The needle-gun is not threaded with gun-cotton.

_Cook (from the area)._ "O, 'Liza, gi' me my winigrette--I've 'ad
a--offer--from the _dustman_!!"]

_New Curate (tenderly)._ "My good man, what induced you to send for me?"

_Oldest Inhabitant._ "What does he say, Betty?"

_Betty._ "Says what the deuce did you send for him, for!!"]

_Uncle (to nephew, who has just come into a fortune)._ "You must
remember, my boy, that 'a fool and his money are soon parted'!"

_Fair Cousin._ "Oh, but I'm sure Sammy will be the _exception that
proves the rule_!" [_Sammy is delighted._]

_Bridget._ "Of coorse he did. Shure we have the horns of the craythurs
hung in the hall!"]

PUNCH'S GUIDE TO SERVANTS

PRELIMINARY CHAPTER

Betty, "first catch your fish," is a golden rule for a cook, and first catch your situation is a very necessary piece of advice to be given to servants in general. The choice of a mistress requires as much judgment as the choice of poultry; and you should be careful not to pick out a very old bird in either case. The best market to go to in order to suit yourself is a servants' bazaar--as it is called--where mistresses are always on view for servants to select from. On being shown up to a lady, you should always act and talk as if you were hiring her, instead of wanting to be hired. You should examine her closely as to the company she keeps, and the number of her family; when, if there is any insuperable objection--such as the absence of a footman, a stipulation against perquisites, a total prohibition of a grease-pot, or a denial of the right of visit, by a refusal to allow followers--in either or all of these cases, it will be as well to tell "the lady" plainly that you must decline her situation. It is a good general rule to be the first to give a refusal, and, when you find you are not likely to suit the place, a bold assertion that the place will not suit you, prevents any compromise of your dignity. If you like the appearance and manner of the party requiring your assistance, but with some few concessions to be made, the best way to obtain them will be by declaring that you never heard of any "lady" requiring--whatever it may be that you have set your face against. By laying a stress on the word "lady," you show your knowledge of the habits of the superior classes; and as the person hiring you will probably wish to imitate their ways, she will perhaps take your hint as to what a "lady" ought to do, and dispense with conditions, which, on your authority, are pronounced unlady-like. If a situation seems really desirable, you should evince a willingness, and profess an ability, to do anything, and everything. If you get the place, and are ever called upon to fulfil your promises, it is easy to say you did not exactly understand you would be expected to do this, or that; and as people generally dislike changing, you will, most probably, be able to retain your place.

_Miss Brown._ "Oh, but _surely_ I heard our hostess say you were '_the_
Mr. Smithson!'"]

When asked if you are fond of children, you should not be content with saying simply "yes," but you should indulge in a sort of involuntary, "Bless their little hearts!" which has the double advantage of appearing to mean everything, while it really pledges you to nothing. Never stick out for followers, if they are objected to; though you may ask permission for a cousin to come and see you; and as you do not say which cousin, provided only one comes at a time, you may have half-a-dozen to visit you. Besides, if the worst comes to the worst, and you cannot do any better, there is always the police to fall back upon. By-the-way, as the police cannot be in every kitchen at once, it might answer the purpose of the female servants throughout London, to establish police sweeps, on the principle of the Derby lotteries, or the Art-Union. Each subscriber might draw a number, and if the number happened to be that of the policeman on duty, she would be entitled to him as a _beau_, during a specified period.

Always stipulate for beer-money, and propose it less for your own advantage than as a measure of economy to your mistress, urging that when there is beer in the house it is very likely to get wasted. You will, of course, have the milk in your eye, when proposing this arrangement.

Tea and sugar must not be much insisted on, for they are now seldom given, but this does not prevent them from being very frequently taken.

Having said thus much by way of preliminary advice, we commence our guides to service with

THE MAID-OF-ALL-WORK

On arriving in your new place you get from the servant who is going away the character of your new mistress. She has already had yours, and you have a right to know hers, which, as it is given by a domestic who is most probably discharged, will, of course, be a very bad one.

_Jane (blushing)._ "Oh no, mum, I've known 'im three days!"]

When your predecessor has taken her departure, your mistress may, perhaps, come into the kitchen and tell you what you will have to do, or, at least, a part of it. She will show you the bells, and tell you which is the house bell, which the parlour bell, which the drawing-room bell, and which are the bells of the different bed-rooms; but she will not tell you how you are to answer them when they are all ringing at once, which may occasionally happen. As it will probably be late when you arrive, you will have to carry up the tray for supper, when you will be stared at, and scrutinised as the new servant, by the whole of the family. Let us now look at your wardrobe. Two of each article will be enough, for if the washing is done once a week you have a change; but if only once in three weeks, you must contrive to supply yourself with the smaller articles, such as stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, from the family stock of linen.

As a maid-of-all-work, you have the great advantage of being a good deal alone, and can therefore indulge in the pleasures of philosophy. You can light the fires, and think of Hobbes. Fasten the hall-door, and recollect some passage in Locke. Or broil the ham for breakfast while wrapped up in Bacon.

You should rise early if you can, but if you cannot you must make up for it by hurrying over your work as quickly as possible. As warm water will be wanted upstairs, don't stop to light the kitchen fire, but throw on two or three bundles of wood, and set them all burning at once, when you will have some hot water immediately. Run into the parlour and open the shutters, light the fire, cut the bread and butter, clean the shoes, make the toast; and when this is on the table, devote any time you may have to spare to sweeping the carpet.

Now, the family having gone down to breakfast, you may light the kitchen fire, and then run up and make the beds. After which you may sit down to your own breakfast, having previously, of course, taken the opportunity of helping yourself to tea and sugar from the tea-caddy.

You may now go upstairs, professedly to sweep the bedrooms, but really to look out of window, and if the street is a narrow one, talk to the servant opposite. Besides, looking out of window saves time, for you are able to answer the fifty people who come to the door in the course of the morning with hair-brooms, apples, carpets and rugs, tapes and stay-laces.

Being in a new place, you will be naturally curious to examine all the cupboards and drawers up-stairs, but do not be too inquisitive at first, for you will have other opportunities for a good rummage.

Bad as it is to be fawned upon, it is better than to be bitten.]

_Orthodox Old Maid._ "But, Rebecca, is your place of worship consecrated?"

_Domestic (lately received into the Plymouth Brotherhood)._ "Oh no, miss--it's galvanised iron!"]

You will now come down to cook the dinner; but, as this is another branch of service, we proceed to tell you how to lay the table. Lay the knives and forks, taking the latter from the plate-basket, where they will be kept, though they are probably only Britannia metal or German silver; nevertheless, call it "the plate," as it will gratify your mistress.

If the family should be addicted to display, without means, you will have to set round doyleys and wine-glasses, with a decanter containing a remnant of British wine, which will not be touched, but will be brought on "for the look of the thing" every day after dinner. The time has now arrived for your own meal, and make the most of it. Secure all the tit-bits, and if you cannot manage to get through the whole of them at dinner, put away part of them for supper.

About this time the afternoon's milk will arrive, and if you have beer-money you will take some of the milk out for your own use, taking care to fill up with warm water, so that you do not cheat your mistress of her quantity. You will be in the middle of washing up your dishes, when the family will want tea, and you will have just sat down to your own tea, when you will probably be asked to do some mending. The best way to put a stop to this is to turn sulky, do the work badly, or express the greatest surprise, declaring that all the time you have been out to service you never, &c., and would be glad to know who on earth, &c., &c., &c.

"No, you brute, you go to sleep!"]

_He._ "I was an intimate friend of your late husband. Can't you give me something to remember him by?"

_She (shyly)._ "How would _I_ do?"]

"Oh, I say, 'ave you seen the papers about 'shall we do without servants?' I should like to see 'em try, that's all!" "Yus, and me too!"]

You must not forget to cultivate your mind, and for this purpose you had better take in "Brainy Bits," and if you read it through every week, your head at the end of the year will be full of volcanic rocks, the solar system, primary strata, electric eels, organic remains, and hints for preserving gooseberries.

_Lady of the House._ "Oh, yes, Jane, I asked Mrs. Johnston to let her little boy and his nurse call to go walking with you and the children." _Nurse._ "Well, ma'am, I hope as you don't expect me to go walking with _that_ young person? I don't think you can be aware as she is only a _nurse-'ousemaid_!"]

On washing days there will probably be a woman come to wash; and in the mutual confidence of the tub, you will probably become very friendly. You may, no doubt, be of great service to each other, you in giving her bits of this and that, while she may serve you by becoming the agent for the disposal of your kitchen-stuff.

Do not fall a victim to low spirits, and above all, avoid sentiment. A morbid-minded maid-of-all-work, whose heart has been carried off in the butcher's tray, the milkman's can, or the baker's basket, is for ever lost. Never hang your affections on a policeman's staff. The force is proverbially fickle, and many a servant girl has pined with a hopeless passion for one who has moved in a superior station.

One of the most trying situations for a maid-of-all-work, is in a house where there are lodgers. She will, very likely, have to take everything at once to everybody at once. She will be having the first floor and the two-pair back clamouring at the same time for the only tea-pot in the house, while the parlour will be calling angrily for his boots, which have been taken by mistake, to the garret, who is writhing in intense agony for his highlows.

THE COOK

For ages it has been believed that a certain wicked person sends cooks; but Johnson has well observed, and so by the by have Smith and Brown, that "if we had no cooks, we should be as bad as cannibals."

_Mrs. Giles._--"Well, it certainly _do_ taste better than the physic I be in the 'abit o' takin'!"]

Cooks have always been the subject of sarcasm, and Jones tells us that even in his day the wits loved to give the cooks a good roasting. It is said, moreover, that "too many cooks will spoil the broth," from which we may presume that, as the workhouse broth is the very worst in the world, a great many cooks must have a hand in it. Apicius was the first man who made cookery a science, and he poisoned himself: no doubt with his own cookery. He invented several sauces, and was, in fact, the Roman Harvey. He is believed to have been the first who added the trimmings to legs of mutton, and he took for his motto the line in Virgil:--

"_At Regina gravi jamdudum saucia curâ._"

because the luxury of _gravy_, _jam_, _sauce_ and _curry_ are all shadowed forth in the quotation alluded to.

Dr. Johnson was, according to Boswell, "a man of very nice discrimination in the science of cookery," and he was proverbial for his sauce, which he dealt out to every one with the greatest freedom. Boswell once asked him if he liked pickles, when he said, "No, sir; the man who would eat a pickle would pick a pocket."

Boswell adds, "I ventured to say he would"; and they wound up the evening with grog, which Boswell, as usual, had to pay for; and it is thought that the expression of "Standing _Sam_" originated with Boswell having to stand whatever Sam (Johnson) chose to call for.

The celebrated Dr. Parr was also a great epicure, and liked his victuals underdone, from which we have the expression Parr-boiling. Milton loved his meat well dressed, and died with a good thing in his mouth; but whether it was a morsel of philosophy, or something nice, has never transpired.

Having said thus much of the ancient and classical who took an interest in cookery, we plunge down stairs into the modern kitchen, and embrace the cook of the present period.

On going to be hired, you will, perhaps, be told there are no perquisites allowed. Don't stick out about that, for if perquisites are not allowed you must take them.

It is easy to say the meat makes no dripping, and, of course, you can't account for it.

It is a rule in cookery to make the best and the most of everything, and you will therefore sell your kitchen-stuff at the marine-store shop that will give the best price for it.

In some families the mistress of the house will assist the cook; but she should have a sickener of that as soon as possible. If she makes a pie, spoil it in the baking; for if there is any truth in the adage about "too many cooks," the lady of the house should not be encouraged in making one of the number.

_Genial Master (under the painful necessity of discharging his coachman)._ "I'm afraid, Simmons, we must part. The fact is, I couldn't help noticing that several times during the last month you have been--sober; and I don't believe a man can attend properly to the drink if he has driving to do!"]

Order is a great essential to a cook, who should keep everything in its place, taking care to keep herself as snugly in her place as possible. Never connive at dishonesty in others, but keep yourself to yourself; for, if you rob your mistress, the least return you can make is not to sanction others in doing so.

Never go into any place where a cat is not kept. This useful domestic animal is the true servants' friend, accounting for the disappearance of tit-bits, lumps of butter, and other odd matters, as well as being the author of all mysterious breakages. What the safety-valve is to the steam-engine, the cat is to the kitchen, preventing all explosions or blowings up that might otherwise occur in the best regulated families.

Having laid down some general principles for the guidance of cooks, we give a few maxims that cannot be too strictly attended to.

1. Keep yourself clean and tidy if you can. If your fingers are greasy wipe them on your hair, which thus acquires a polish.

2. When a joint comes down from dinner, cut off what you intend for your supper. If cut while the joint is warm, it does not show that it has been cut. Relieve it also from all superfluous fat, which will of course go into your grease-pot.

3. If you want a jelly-bag, cut up an ironing blanket for the purpose. The former is of course wanted in a hurry, but the latter may be procured at leisure.

4. When your dishes come down stairs, throw them all into scalding water at once. Those that are not broken by the operation may afterwards be taken out, and put in their proper places.

5. Scour your pickle-jars, but empty them first, if you are fond of pickle.

6. If you have been peeling onions, cut bread-and-butter with the same knife; it will show the multifariousness of your occupations, and perhaps give a hint for raising your wages.

7. Let your spit and your skewers be always rusty; or, at least, do not take the trouble to polish them; for by leaving great black holes in the meat, they show it has been roasted, which is always better than being baked, and it will be the more relished in consequence.

8. Never do anything by halves, except lamb, which you must sometimes do by quarters.

9. If you are cooking even a sheep's head or a bullock's heart, take pains with them, so that what you do may be equally creditable to your head and heart.

10. If you have a follower, or a policeman, who likes a snack, cut it off each joint before you cook it--for everything loses in the cooking--and the disappearance of one pound, at least, in eight or nine, may thus be easily accounted for.

The above maxims will be sufficient to guide the cook in her course of service, and we do not add any receipts, for it has been well said by Dr. Kitchener, or might have been said by him as well as by anyone else--that he who gives a receipt for making a stew, may himself make a sad hash of it.

In bidding farewell to the cook, we would have her remember that her control over the safe will give her a peculiar influence over the hearts of the police, and she must be careful not to enervate a whole division, and leave a district defenceless, by being too lavish with the blandishments of love and the larder.

_Burglar (who has been secured by athletic vicar after long and severe struggle)._ "I think you're treatin' me very crool--and a clergyman too!"]

THE LADY'S-MAID

Ladies'-maids are the rarest articles of female domestic service, and being in the nature of luxuries, are the best paid. They are to cooks and housemaids what the pine-apple is to the _pomme de terre_, and for this pine-like superiority of station many are doomed to pine in vain. The statistics of female service give us a million maids as the grand total, and deducting three-eighths for servants-of-all-work, two-eighths for cooks, three-sixteenths for housemaids, and one-eighth for nurses, we have a surplus of one-sixteenth for ladies'-maids, which will be about a fair average.

Servants belonging to this superior class should be able to read and write. It is a good practice in the former accomplishment to read all the notes sent to your mistress, and the little motto wafers, now in use, seem invented to facilitate this arrangement, for they never adhere to the envelope.

"Cook's just revoked for the third time, marm!"]

You will probably have the charge of your mistress's apartments. Never suffer anything to lie about, and, therefore, you should pocket any trifle that is left carelessly out of its place. I do not mean to say you should become a thief, for, if found out, you would lose your place, and your character, but you must take care of a thing till it is missed, and when it is wanted, it will, of course be asked for. It is then time enough for you to find it in some hole or corner, into which it has of course got by accident. Your lady's dressing-box will be under your care. See that the scent-bottles are always well supplied, which you can only ascertain by taking a little out of them for your own use very frequently.

You should endeavour at all times to save your mistress trouble by acting for her as much as you can; and in order to do this effectually, you should dress as much like her as possible. Order about other servants just as she would herself, and talk to tradespeople exactly as if they were being spoken to by your mistress, of whom you are the representative. Of course the closer the representation you give of her, the more exact are you in the performance of your duty.

Some ladies'-maids are expected to mend their ladies' clothes; but no lady, that is a lady, ought to wear any clothes that have been mended. You should try and persuade her to be of the same opinion, by which you will not only save yourself the trouble of mending, but you will come in for many things much sooner than you could otherwise hope to do. The author of the proverb, that "a stitch in time saves nine," no doubt thought himself very clever; but if avoiding trouble is the object, it stands to reason that though "a stitch in time saves nine," it must be a greater saving still never to put a stitch in anything.

If your mistress will make you work at your needle, put a novel on your lap, so that you may read and work at the same time. If you are asked to cut out a body, make a bungling job of it, that you may not be asked to do the same thing again. If you cut out anybody it should be the lady's-maid next door, with which your ambition ought to be satisfied.

Taking out marks from linen is an essential part of the duties of a lady's-maid. Some practise themselves in this art by taking out the initials of their mistress and substituting their own; but this is a dangerous experiment.