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Of course. Who would look at a paltry fifty?

First Mem. Perhaps you are right. Five pound shares, eh?

Fourth Mem. Better make them sovereigns. Simpler to manipulate.

First Mem. I daresay. Then the same solicitors as our last?

Fifth Mem. Yes, on the condition that they get a firm to undertake the underwriting.

First Mem. Necessarily. The firm I propose, gentlemen, are men of business, and quite recognise that nothing purchases nothing.

[Pg 52]

Second Mem. And they could get the secretary with a thousand to invest.

First Mem. Certainly. Our brokers, bankers, and auditors as before. Eh, gentlemen?

Fifth Mem. On the same conditions.

First Mem. That is understood. And now the prospectus is getting into shape. Is there anything else anyone can suggest?

Fourth Mem. Oughtn't we to have some object in view?

First Mem. Assuredly. Making money.

Fourth Mem. Don't be frivolous. But what I mean is, should we not know for what purpose we are going to expend the half million?

First Mem. Oh, you mean the name. Well, that comparatively unimportant detail we might safely leave until our next pleasant gathering.

[Meeting adjourned.
Curtain.
In Extremis. That man is indeed hard up who cannot get credit even for good intentions.

"Walker!" How unfair to sneer at the City tradesmen for being above their business, when so few of them live over their shops!

[Pg 51]

An early morning snapshot in the suburbs. Mr. Bumpus dresses his window.

[Pg 53]

METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS Proposed elevated roadway for perambulators

[Pg 54]

EXAMINATION FOR A DIRECTORSHIP (From "The City Man's Vade Mecum")

Promoter. Are you a gentleman of blameless reputation?

Candidate. Certainly, and I share that reputation with a dozen generations of ancestors.

Promoter. And no doubt you are the soul of honour?

Candidate. That is my belief—a belief shared by all my friends and acquaintances.

Promoter. And I think, before taking up finance, you have devoted a long life to the service of your country?

Candidate. That is so. My career has been rewarded by all kinds of honours.

Promoter. And there is no particular reason why you should dabble in Stock Exchange matters?

Candidate. None that I know of—save, perhaps, to serve a friend.

Promoter. Now, be very careful. Do you[Pg 56] know anything whatever about the business it is proposed you should superintend?

Candidate. Nothing whatever. I know nothing absolutely about business.

Promoter. Then I have much pleasure in informing you that you have been unanimously elected a member of the board of management!

[Scene closes in until the public demands further information.

[Pg 55]

"Perfeck Lidy" (who has just been ejected). "Well, next time I goes into a publickouse, I'll go somewhere where I'll be respected!"

RIDDLE FOR THE CITY

Oh! why, my friend, is a joint stock

Concern like, yet unlike, a clock?

Because it may be wound up; when,

Alas! it doesn't go again.


The Seat of Impudence.—A cabman's box.

Song of Suburban Householders awaiting the Advent of the Dustman.—"We always use a big, big D!"

A Floating Capital Joke.—When may a man be said to be literally immersed in business?—When he's giving a swimming lesson.

A Cheerful Investment.—A laughing-stock.

[Pg 57]

Baker. "I shall want another ha'penny. Bread's gone up to-day."

Boy. "Then give us one of yesterday's."

[Pg 58]

WHY I AM IN TOWN

Because I have long felt a strong desire to know by personal experiment what London is like at this season of the year.

Because the house requires some repairs, and I am anxious to be on the spot to look after the workpeople.

Because the progress of my book on Universal Eccentricity renders it necessary that I should pay frequent visits to the library of the British Museum.

Because I have been everywhere, and know every place.

Because the sanitary condition of the only place I at all care to go to is not altogether satisfactory.

Because my Uncle Anthony is expected home every day from Australia, and I am unwilling to be absent from town when he arrives.

Because my cousin Selina is going to be married from her stepfather's at Upper Clapton, and insists on my giving her away to the gentleman with whom she is about to penetrate into the interior of Africa.

[Pg 60]

Because I am desirous to avail myself of this opportunity of completing some statistical tables I am compiling, showing the comparative numbers of horses, carriages, and pedestrians passing my dining-room windows on the last Saturday in May and the last Saturday in August respectively.

Because my eldest son is reading with a private tutor for his army examination, and I feel I am of some use to him in his studies.

Because my Aunt Philippa is detained in town by an attack of gout, and expects me to call and sit with her three times a day.

Because I am determined to put into execution my long-cherished design of thoroughly exploring the British Museum, the National Gallery, the South Kensington Museum, St. Paul's, Westminster Abbey, the public monuments, and the City churches.

Because it is pecuniarily inconvenient to me to be anywhere else.


Notice.

The gentleman who, the other day, ran away from home, without stopping to take his breath, is requested to fetch it as quickly as possible.


[Pg 59]

Fogged.

Cabman (who thinks he has been passing a line of linkmen). "Is this right for Paddington?"

Linkman. "'Course it is! First to the right and straight on. 'Aven't I told ye that three times already? Why, you've been drivin' round this square for the last 'arf hour!"

[Pg 61]

Virtuous Indignation.

Betting Man (to his Partner). "Look 'ere, Joe! I 'ear you've been gamblin' on the Stock Exchange! Now, a man must draw the line somewhere; and if that kind of thing goes on, you and me will 'ave to part company!"

[Pg 62]

MISNOMERS

You start a company to make it go,

It fails, and so you drop it;

It didn't go but yet has gone, and so

You wind it up to stop it.

Stocks in your garden you will surely find

By want of rain are slaughtered;

Yet many stocks have languished and declined

Because they have been watered.

Suppose a company for brewing beer

Should come to a cessation—

That is—"dry up" 'tis curious to hear

It's called "in liquidation."

Prehistoric London.

Some arch�ologists have discovered an analogy between the druidical worship and a form of semitic idolatry. It has been surmised that the Old Bailey derives its name from having been the site of a temple of Baal.



The Rule of Rome.—An "Inquiring City Clerk," fresh from his Roman history, writes to ask if "S.P.Q.R." stands for "Small profits, quick returns."



A Temperance Public-house.—A slop-shop.

[Pg 63]

MELTING MOMENTS (Temperature 95ďż˝ in the Shade.)

Friend. "How does this weather suit you, old chap?"

Bankrupt Proprietor. "Oh, down to the ground! You see, I'm in liquidation!

[Pg 64]


The Original Cook's Tourist.—Policeman X on his beat.

"The Great Plague of London."—A barrel-organ.

The Latest Thing Out.—The night-light.

Johnny (who has to face a bad Monday, to Manager at Messrs. R-thsch-ld's). "Ah! I—want to—ah!—see you about an overdraft." Manager. "How much do you require?" Johnny. "Ah!—how much have you got?"

[Pg 65]


French Lady. "Picca-di-lee Circus." Obliging Conductor. "All right. One pence." French Lady (who rather prides herself on her English pronunciation). "I anterstond ze Engleeshe langue." Obliging Conductor. "Oh, all right. Keep yer 'air on!"


The Most Unpleasant Meeting.—Having to meet a bill.

What intimate connection is there between the lungs of London and the lights of the metropolis?

Saw for Slop Tailors.—Ill tweeds shrink apace.

A Tissue of Lies.—A forged bank-note.

[Pg 66]


A Nice Investment.—Amongst the advertisements of new undertakings we notice one of "The Universal Disinfector Company." Our broker has instructions to procure us some shares, if they are in good odour.

A Tight Fit.—Intoxication.

How to Supply St. Paul's with Bells and Chimes Cheap.—Melt down the canons.

A Thought from our Tub.—Respect everybody's feelings. If you wish to have your laundress's address, avoid asking her where she "hangs out."

Hard Lines.—Overhead wires.

Hotel for Bee-Fanciers.—The Hum-mums.

Unprecedented Trade Announcement.—The pig-market was quiet.

Money Market and Sanitary Intelligence.—The unsafest of all deposits is the deposit of the banks of the Thames.

The Place to Spend All Fools' Day.—Madame Tous-sots'.

[Pg 67]


Bus-driver. "All right, ladies! You're quite safe. They're werry partikler wot they eats!"

[Pg 68]

METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS

The next sensational literary advertisement; or, things of beauty in our streets.


Solemn Jest.—Where should postmen be buried? In a post-crypt.

A Blunder-Bus.—One that takes you to Holborn when you want to go to the Bank.

Epitaph for a Stockbroker.—"Waiting for a rise."

Board Wages.—Directors' fees.

[Pg 69]

STOCK EXCHANGE Illustrated by Dumb-Crambo, Junior
Carrying over
Market falling
Market firm
Preparing for a rise
Arranging for a fall
Home securities flat

[Pg 70]

A NEW WAY TO GET A FRESH APPETITE (A real bit from life at a City company's dinner)

Young Visitor. Really, sir, you must excuse me. I am compelled to refuse.

Old Alderman (with profound astonishment). What, refuse these beautiful grouse? It's impossible!

Young Visitor. It is impossible, I can assure you, sir. I cannot eat any more.

Old Alderman (tenderly). Come, come. I tell you what now. Just take my advice, and try a cold chair.


Design for a Paper-Weight.—The portrait of a gentleman waiting for the Times.

The Best "Financial Relations."—Our "uncles."

At the Angel Court Kitchen.—Stranger (to Eminent Financier). Why did you call that man at the bar "the Microbe"?
Eminent Financier. Because he's "in everything."

Ground Rents.—The effects of an earthquake.

[Pg 71]

Following the Fashion.

Baked-Tater Merchant. "'Ow's trade! Why fust-rate!! I'm a-goin' to conwert the bis'ness into a limited liability comp'ny—and retire into private life!!!"

[Pg 72]

SONGS OF THE STREETS UPON THE KERB

Upon the kerb a maiden neat—

Her watchet eyes are passing sweet—

There stands and waits in dire distress:

The muddy road is pitiless,

And 'buses thunder down the street!

A snowy skirt, all frill and pleat;

Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet

Peep out, beneath her kilted dress,

Upon the kerb!

She'll first advance and then retreat,

Half frightened by a hansom fleet.

She looks around, I must confess,

With marvellous coquettishness!—

Then droops her eyes and looks discreet,

Upon the kerb!


Definition of "The Happy Mean."—A joyful miser.

To People Down in the World.—Try the new hotels: they will give you a lift.

What is the best thing to do in a hurry? Nothing.

[Pg 73]

Sarah (to Sal). "Lor! ain't 'e 'andy with 'is feet!"

[Pg 74]

PUNCH'S COUNTRY COUSIN'S GUIDE The Metropolis in the Morte Saison

8 a.m.—Rise, as in the

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