Book: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 99., Nov. 22, 1890
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 99., Nov. 22, 1890
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 99.
November 22, 1890.
[Illustration: DOUBLING THE PART.
_Mr. S.B. B-ncr-ft, having retired from the Stage, thinks of taking to
the Booth._ "'WHEN THE CUE COMES, CALL ME.' AW!--VERY LIKE HIM--VERY!"
[One day last week Mr. S.B. BANCROFT wrote to the _Daily Telegraph_,
saying, that so struck was he by "General" BOOTH's scheme for
relieving everybody generally--of course "generally"--that he wished
at once to relieve himself of L1000, if he could only find out
ninety-and-nine other sheep in the wilderness of London to follow his
example, and consent to be shorn of a similar amount. Send your cheque
to 85, Fleet Street, and we'll undertake to use it for the benefit of
most deserving objects.]]
* * * * *
A GOOD-NATURED TEMPEST.
It was stated in the _Echo_ that, during the late storm, a brig
"brought into Dover harbour two men, with their ribs and arms broken
by a squall off Beachy Head. The deck-house and steering-gear were
carried away, and the men taken to Dover Hospital." Who shall say,
after this, that storms do not temper severity with kindness? This
particular one, it is true, broke some ribs and arms, and carried away
portions of a brig, but, in the very act of doing this, it took the
sufferers, and laid them, apparently, on the steps of Dover Hospital.
If we must have storms, may they all imitate this motherly example.
* * * * *
"WHAT A WONDERFUL BO-OY!"--In the _Head-Master's Guide_ for November,
in the list of applicants for Masterships, appears a gentleman who
offers to teach Mathematics, Euclid, Arithmetic, Algebra, Natural
Science, History, Geography, Book-keeping, French Grammar, Freehand,
and Perspective Drawing, the Piano, the Organ, and the Harmonium, and
Singing, for the modest salary of L20 a-year without a residence! But
it is only just to add; that this person seems to be of marvellous
origin, for although he admits extreme youth (he says he is _only
three years of age!_) he boasts ten years of experience! _O si sic
omnes_! So wise, so young, so cheap!
* * * * *
If spectacular effects are worth remembering, then Sheriff DRURIOLANUS
ought to be a member of the Spectacle-makers' Company.
* * * * *
ALICE IN BLUNDERLAND.
(_ON THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER._)
["Our difficulties are such as these--that America has
instituted a vast system of prohibitive tariffs, mainly,
I believe, because ... American pigs do not receive proper
treatment at the hands of Europe.... If we have any difficulty
with our good neighbours in France, it is because of
that unintelligent animal the lobster; and if we have any
difficulty with our good neighbours in America, it is because
of that not very much nobler animal, the seal."--_Lord
Salisbury at the Mansion House_.]
The Real Turtle sang this, very slowly, and sadly:--
"We are getting quite important," said the Porker to the Seal,
"For we're 'European Questions,' as a Premier seems to feel.
See the 'unintelligent' Lobster, even he, makes an advance!
Oh, we lead the Politicians of the earth a pretty dance.
Will you, won't you, Yankee Doodle, England, and gay France.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, let _us_ lead the dance?
"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be,
When they take _us_ up as matters of the High Diplomacee."
But the Seal replied, "They brain us!" and he gave a look askance
At the goggle-eyed mailed Lobster, who was loved (and boiled) by France.
"Would they, could they, would they, could they, give us half a chance?
Lobsters, Pigs, and Seals all suffer, Commerce to advance!"
"What matters it how grand we are!" his plated friend replied,
If our destiny is Salad, or the Sausage boiled or fried?
Though we breed strife 'twixt England, and America, and France,
If we're chopped up, or boiled, or brained where is _our_ great advance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you chuck away a chance
Of peace in pig-stye, or at sea, to play the game of France?"
"Thank you, it's a very amusing dance--_to watch_," said ALICE,
feeling very glad that she had not to stand up in it.
"You may not have lived much under the Sea" (said the Real Turtle)
("I haven't," said ALICE), "and perhaps you were never introduced to
a Lobster--" (ALICE began to say "I once tasted--" but checked herself
hastily, and said, "No, never"),--"So you can have no idea what a
delightful dance a (Diplomatic) Lobster Quadrille is!"
"I dare say not," said ALICE.
"Stand up and repeat '_'Tis the Voice of the Premier_,'" said the
Griffin.
ALICE got up and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of
Lobsters, Pigs, and Seals, that she hardly knew what she was saying,
and the words came very queer indeed:--
"'Tis the voice of the Premier; I heard him complain
On the Ninth of November all prophecy's vain.
I _must_ make some sort of a speech, I suppose.
Dear DIZZY (who led the whole world by the nose)
Said the world heard, for once, on this day, 'Truth and Sense'
(_I.e._ neatly phrased Make-believe and Pretence),
But when GLADDY's 'tide' rises, and lost seats abound,
One's voice has a cautious and timorous sound."
"I've heard this sort of thing so often before," said the Real Turtle;
"but it sounds uncommon nonsense. Go on with the next verse."
ALICE did not dare disobey, though she felt sure it would all come
wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:--
"I passed by the Session, and marked, by the way,
How the Lion and Eagles would share Af-ri-ca.
How the peoples, at peace, were not shooting with lead,
But bethumping each other with Tariffs instead,
How the Eight Hours' Bill, on which BURNS was so sweet,
Was (like bye-elections) a snare and a cheat;
How the Lobster, the Pig, and the Seal, I would say
At my sixth Lord Mayor's Banquet--"
"What _is_ the use of repeating all that stuff," the Real Turtle
interrupted, "if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the
most confusing thing _I_ ever heard!"
"Yes, I think you'd better leave off," said the Griffin; and ALICE was
only too glad to do so.
* * * * *
GAMES.--It being the season of burglaries, E. WOLF AND SON--("WOLF,"
most appropriate name,--but _Wolf and Moon_ would have been still
better than WOLF AND SON)--take the auspicious time to bring out their
new game of "Burglar and Bobbies." On a sort of draught-board, so
that both Burglar and Bobby play "on the square," which is in itself a
novelty. The thief may be caught in thirteen moves. This won't do. We
want him to be caught before he moves at all.
* * * * *
[Illustration: NEW EDITION OF "ROBA DI 'ROMER.'"
_With Mr. Punch's sincere congratulations to his Old Friend the New
Judge._]
* * * * *
VOCES POPULI.
AT A SALE OF HIGH-CLASS SCULPTURE.
SCENE--An upper floor in a City Warehouse; a low, whitewashed
room, dimly lighted by dusty windows and two gas-burners in
wire cages. Around the walls are ranged several statues of
meek aspect, but securely confined in wooden cases, like a
sort of marble menagerie. In the centre, a labyrinthine grove
of pedestals, surmounted by busts, groups, and statuettes
by modern Italian masters. About these pedestals a small
crowd--consisting of Elderly Merchants on the look out for a
"neat thing in statuary" for the conservatory at Croydon or
Muswell Hill, Young City Men who have dropped in after lunch,
Disinterested Dealers, Upholsterers' Buyers, Obliging Brokers,
and Grubby and Mysterious men--is cautiously circulating.
_Obliging Broker_ (_to Amiable Spectator, who has come in out
of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing
sculpture_). _No_ Catlog, Sir? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you
mine--that's _my_ name in pencil on the top of it, Sir; and, if you
_should_ 'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch
my eye. (_Reassuringly._) I shan't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a
nudge--_I_ shall know what it means.
[_The A.S. thanks him profusely, and edges away with an
inward vow to avoid his and the Auctioneer's eyes, as he
would those of a basilisk._
_Auctioneer_ (_from desk, with the usual perfunctory fervour_). Lot
13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life--"_The
Pricked Finger_" and "_The Scratched Toe_"--by BIMBI.
_A Stolid Assistant_ (_in shirtsleeves_). Figgers _'ere_, Gen'lm'n!
[_Languid surge of crowd towards them._
_A Facetious Bidder_. Which of 'em's the finger, and which the toe?
_Auct._ (_coldly_). I should have thought it was easy to identify
by the attitude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very
finely-executed works by BIMBI. Make any offer. What will you give me
for 'em? Both very sweet things, Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas?
_A Grubby Man_. Give yer five.
_Auct._ (_with grieved resignation_). Very well, start 'em at five.
Any advance on five? (_To_ Assist.) Turn 'em round, to show the back
view. And a 'arf! Six! And a 'arf! Only six and a 'arf bid for this
beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by BIMBI. Come,
Gentlemen, come! Seven! Was that _you_, Mr. GRIMES? (_The Grubby Man
admits the soft impeachment._) Seven and a 'arf. Eight! It's _against_
you.
_Mr. Grimes_ (_with a supreme effort_). Two-and-six!
[_Mops his brow with a red cotton handkerchief._
_Auct._ (_in a tone of gratitude for the smallest mercies_).
Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six? Going ... gone! GRIMES,
Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome
work by PIFFALINI--"_The Ocarina Player_," one of this great artist's
masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-class work, as you
will all agree directly you see it. (_To Assist._) Now, then, Lot 14,
there--look sharp!
_Stolid Assist._ "Hocarina Plier," eyn't arrived, Sir.
_Auct._ Oh, hasn't it? Very well, then. Lot 15. "_The Pretty
Pill-taker_," by ANTONIO BILIO--a really magnificent work of Art,
Gentlemen. (_"Pill-taker, 'ere!" from the S.A._) What'll you give
me for her? Come, make me an offer. (_Bidding proceeds till the
"Pill-taker" is knocked down for twenty-three-and-a-half guineas._)
Lot 16, "_The Mixture as Before_," by same artist--make a charming
and suitable companion to the last lot. What do you say, Mr.
MIDDLEMAN--take it at the same bidding? (Mr. M. _assents, with the
end of one eyebrow._) Any advance on twenty-three and a 'arf? None?
Then.--MIDDLEMAN, Twenty-four, thirteen, six.
_Mr. Middleman_ (_to the Amiable Spectator, who has been vaguely
inspecting the "Pill-taker."_) Don't know if you noticed it, Sir, but
I got that last couple very cheap--on'y forty-seven guineas the pair,
and they are worth eighty, I solemnly declare to you. I could get
forty a-piece for 'em to-morrow, upon my word and honour, I could. Ah,
and I know who'd _give_ it me for 'em, too!
_The A.S._ (_sympathetically_). Dear me, then you've done very well
over it.
_Mr. M._ Ah, well ain't the word--and those two aren't the only lots
I've got either. That "_Sandwich-Man_" over there is mine--look at
the work in those boards, and the nature in his clay pipe; and "_The
Boot-Black_," that's mine, too--all worth twice what _I_ got 'em
for--and lovely things, too, ain't they?
_The A.S._ Oh, very nice, very clever--congratulate you, I'm sure.
_Mr. M._ I can see you've took a fancy to 'em, Sir, and, when I come
across a gentleman that's a connysewer, I'm always sorry to stand
in his light; so, see here, you can have any one you like out o' my
little lot, or all on 'em, with all the pleasure in the wide world,
Sir, and I'll on'y charge you five per cent. on what I gave for 'em.
and be exceedingly obliged to you, into the bargain, Sir. (_The A.S.
feebly disclaims any desire to take advantage of this magnanimous
offer._) Don't say No, if you mean Yes, Sir. Will you _'ave_ the
"_Pill-taker_," Sir?
_The A.S._ (_politely_). Thank you very much, but--er--I think _not_.
_Mr. M._ Then perhaps you could do with "_The Little Boot-Black_," or
"_The Sandwich-Man_," Sir?
_The A.S._ Perhaps--but I could do still better _without_ them.
[_He moves to another part of the room._
_The Obl. Broker_ (_whispering beerily in his ear_). Seen anythink yet
as takes your fancy, Sir; 'cos, if so--
[_The A.S. escapes to a dark corner--where he is warmly
welcomed by Mr. MIDDLEMAN._
_Mr. M._ _Knew_ you'd think better on it, Sir. Now which is it to
be--the "_Boot-Black_," or "_Mixture as Before_"?
_Auct._ Now we come to Lot 19. Massive fluted column in coral marble
with revolving-top--a column, Gentlemen, which will speak for itself.
_The Facetious Bidder_ (_after a scrutiny_). Then it may as well
mention, while it's _about_ it, that it's got a bit out of its back!
_Auct._ Flaw in the marble, that's all. (_To Assist._) Nothing the
_matter_ with the column, is there?
_Assist._ (_with reluctant candour_). Well, it _'as_ got a little
chipped, Sir.
_Auct._ (_easily_). Oh, very well then, we'll sell it "A.F." Very glad
it was found out in time, I'm sure.
[_Bidding proceeds._
_First Dealer to Second_ (_in a husky whisper_). Talkin' o' Old
Masters, I put young 'ANWAY up to a good thing the other day.
_Second D._ (_without surprise--probably from a knowledge of his
friend's noble, unselfish nature_). Ah--'ow was that?
_First D._ Well, there was a picter as I 'appened to know could be got
in for a deal under what it ought--in good 'ands, mind yer--to fetch.
It was a Morlan'--leastwise, it was so like you couldn't ha' told
the difference, if you understand my meanin'. (_The other nods with
complete intelligence._) Well, I 'adn't no openin' for it myself just
then, so I sez to young 'ANWAY, "You might do worse than go and 'ave
a _look_ at it," I told him. And I run against him yesterday, Wardour
Street way, and I sez, "Did yer go and _see_ that picter?" "Yes," sez
he, "and what's more, I got it at pretty much my own figger, too!"
"Well," sez I, "and ain't yer goin' to _shake 'ands with me over it_?"
_Second D._ (_interested_). And _did_ he?
_First D._ Yes, he did--he beyaved very fair over the matter, I will
say _that_ for him.
_Second D._ Oh, 'ANWAY's a very decent little feller--_now_.
_Auct._ (_hopefully_). Now, Gentlemen, this next lot'll tempt you,
_I_'m sure! Lot 33, a magnificent and very finely executed dramatic
group out of the "_Merchant of Venice_," _Othello_ in the act of
smothering _Desdemona_, both nearly life-size. (_Assist., with a
sardonic inflection._ "_Group_ 'ere, _Gen'lm'n!_") What shall we say
for this great work by ROCCOCIPPI, Gentlemen? A hundred guineas, just
to start us?
_The F.B._ Can't you put the two figgers up separate?
_Auct._ You know better than that--being a group, Sir. Come, come,
anyone give me a hundred for this magnificent marble group! The figure
of _Othello_ very finely finished, Gentlemen.
_The F.B._ I should ha' thought it was _her_ who was the finely
finished one of the two.
_Auct._ (_pained by this levity_). Really, Gentlemen, _do_ 'ave
more appreciation of a 'igh-class work like this!... Twenty-five
guineas?... Nonsense! I can't put it up at that.
[_Bidding languishes. Lot withdrawn._
_Second Disinterested Dealer_ (_to First D.D., in an undertone_). I
wouldn't tell everyone, but I shouldn't like to see _you_ stay 'ere
and waste your time; so, in case you _was_ thinking of waiting for
that last lot, I may just as well mention--[_Whispers._
_First D.D._ Ah, it's _that_ way, is it? Much obliged to you for the
'int. But I'd do the same for you any day.
_Second D.D._ I'm _sure_ yer would!
[_They watch one another suspiciously._
_Auct._ Now 'ere's a tasteful thing, Gentlemen. Lot. 41. "_Nymph
eating Oysters_" ("_Nymph 'ere, Gen'lm'n!_"), by the celebrated
Italian artist VABENE, one of the finest works of Art in this room,
and they're _all_ exceedingly fine works of Art; but this is _truly_
a work of Art, Gentlemen. What shall we say for her, eh? (_Silence._)
Why, Gentlemen, no more appreciation than _that_? Come, don't be
afraid of it. Make a beginning. (_Bidding starts._) Forty-five
guineas. Forty-six--_pounds_. Forty-six pounds only, this remarkable
specimen of modern Italian Art. Forty-six and a 'arf. Only forty-six
ten bid for it. Give character to any gentleman's collection, a figure
like this would. Forty-seven _pounds_--_guineas_! and a 'arf....
Forty-seven and a 'arf guineas.... For the last time! Bidding with
you, Sir. Forty-seven guineas and a 'arf--Gone! Name, Sir, if _you_
please. Oh, money? Very well. Thank you.
_Proud Purchaser_ (_to Friend, in excuse for his extravagance_). You
see, I must have something for that grotto I've got in the grounds.
_His Friend_. If she was mine, I should put her in the hall, and have
a gaslight fitted in the oyster-shell.
_P.P._ (_thoughtfully_). Not a bad idea. But electric light would be
more suitable, and easier to fix too. Yes--we'll see.
_The Obl. Broker_ (_pursuing the Am. Spect._). I 'ope, Sir, you'll
remember me, next time you're this way.
_The Am. Spect._ (_who has only ransomed himself by taking over an odd
lot, consisting of imitation marble fruit, a model, under crystal, of
the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and three busts of Italian celebrities of
whom he has never heard_). I'm afraid I shan't have very much chance
of forgetting you. _Good_ afternoon!
[_Exit hurriedly, dropping the fruit, as Scene closes._
* * * * *
[Illustration: PRIVATE THEATRICALS.
_Fond Parent_ (_to Professional Lady_). "TELL ME, MISS LE VAVASOUR,
DID MY SON ACQUIT HIMSELF CREDITABLY AT THIS AFTERNOON'S REHEARSAL?"
_Miss Le Vavasour_. "WELL, MY LORD,--IF YOUR SON ONLY ACTS THE LOVER
ON THE STAGE HALF AS ENERGETICALLY AS HE DOES IN THE GREEN-ROOM, THE
PIECE WILL BE A SUCCESS!"]
* * * * *
FROM OUR MUSIC HALL.
I had a fine performance at my little place last week. Gave the
_Elijah_ with a chorus whose vigorous delivery and precision were
excellent, and except for uncertain intonation of _soprani_ in first
chorus, I think though perhaps I say it who shouldn't, I never heard
better chorussing within my walls. Madame SCHMIDT-KOEHNE has a good
voice, but I can't say I approve of her German method, nor do I
like embellishments of text, even when they can be justified. The
_contralto_, Madame SVIATLOVSKY (O Heavenly name that ends in _sky_!)
is not what I should have expected, coming to us with such a name.
Perhaps not heard to advantage: perhaps 'vantage to me if I hadn't
heard her. But Miss SARAH BERRY brought down the house just as SAMSON
did, and we were Berry'd all alive, O, and applauding beautifully.
_Brava_, Miss SARAH BERRY!
"As we are hearing _Elijah_," says Mr. Corner Man, "may I ask you,
Sir, what Queen in Scripture History this young lady reminds me of?"
Of course I reply, "I give it up, Sir." Whereupon he answers, "She
reminds me, Sir, of the Queen who was BERENICE--'Berry-Nicey'--see?"
Number next in the books. Mr. WATKIN MILLS was dignified and
impressive as _Elijah_; but, while admitting the excellence of this
profit, we can't forget our loss in the absence of Mr. SANTLEY.
BEN MIO DAVIES sang the tenor music, but apologised for having
unfortunately got a pony on the event,--that is, he had got a little
hoarse during the day. "BEN MIO" is--um--rather _troppo operatico_ for
the oratorio. Mr. BARNBY bravely batoned, as usual. Bravo, BARNBY! He
goes on with the work because he likes it. Did he not, he would say
with the _General Bombastes_--
"Give o'er! give o'er!
For I will baton on this tune no more."
Perhaps the quotation is not quite exact, but no matter, all's well
that ends well, as everyone said as they left.
Yours truly,
ALBERT HALL.
* * * * *
MR. PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELS.
NO. VII.--A BUCCANEER'S BLOOD-BATH.
BY L.S. DEEVENSON, AUTHOR OF "_TOLDON DRYLAND_," "_THE WHITE
HETON_," "_WENTNAP_," "_AMISS WITH A CANDLETRAY_," "_AN OUTLANDISH
TRIP_," "_A TRAVELLED DONKEY_," "_A QUEER FALL ON A TREACLE SLIDE_,"
"_THE OLD PERSIAN BARONETS_," &C., &C., &C.
[For some weeks before this Novel actually arrived, we
received by every post an immense consignment of paragraphs,
notices, and newspaper cuttings, all referring to it in
glowing terms. "This" observed the _Bi-weekly Boomer_, "is,
perhaps, the most brilliant effort of the brilliant and
versatile Author's genius. Humour and pathos are inextricably
blended in it. He sweeps with confident finger over the whole
gamut of human emotions, and moves us equally to terror and
to pity. Of the style, it is sufficient to say that it is Mr.
DEEVENSON's." The MS. of the Novel itself came in a wrapper
bearing the Samoan post-mark.--ED. _Punch_.]
CHAPTER I.
I am a man stricken in years, and-well-nigh spent with labour, yet it
behoves that, for the public good, I should take pen in hand, and set
down the truth of those matters wherein I played a part. And, indeed,
it may befall that, when the tale is put forth in print, the public
may find it to their liking, and buy it with no sparing hand, so that,
at the last, the payment shall be worthy of the labourer.
[Illustration]
I have never been gifted with what pedants miscall courage. That
extreme rashness of the temper which drives fools to their destruction
hath no place in my disposition. A shrinking meekness under
provocation, and a commendable absence of body whenever blows fell
thick, seemed always to me to be the better part. And for this I
have boldly endured many taunts. Yet it so chanced that in my life I
fell in with many to whom the cutting of throats was but a moment's
diversion. Nay, more, in most of their astounding ventures I shared
with them; I made one upon their reckless forays; I was forced, sorely
against my will, to accompany them upon their stormy voyages, and to
endure with them their dangers; and there does not live one man, since
all of them are dead, and I alone survive, so well able as myself
to narrate these matters faithfully within the compass of a single
five-shilling volume.
CHAPTER II.
On a December evening of the year 17--, ten men sat together in the
parlour of "The Haunted Man." Without, upon the desolate moorland, a
windless stricture of frost had bound the air as though in boards, but
within, the tongues were loosened, and the talk flowed merrily, and
the clink of steaming tumblers filled the room. Dr. DEADEYE sat with
the rest at the long deal table, puffing mightily at the brown old
Broseley church-warden, whom the heat and the comfort of his evening
meal had so far conquered, that he resented the doctor's treatment of
him only by an occasional splutter. For myself, I sat where the warmth
of the cheerful fire could reach my chilled toes, close by the side
of the good doctor. I was a mere lad, and even now, as I search in my
memory for these long-forgotten scenes, I am prone to marvel at my
own heedlessness in thus affronting these lawless men. But, indeed, I
knew them not to be lawless, or I doubt not but that my prudence had
counselled me to withdraw ere the events befell which I am now about
to narrate.
As I remember, the Doctor and Captain JAWKINS were seated opposite to
one another, and, as their wont was, they were in high debate upon
a question of navigation, on which the Doctor held and expressed an
emphatic opinion.
"Never tell me," he said, with flaming aspect, "that the common
term, 'Port your helm,' implies aught but what a man, not otherwise
foolish, would gather from the word. Port means port, and starboard is
starboard, and all the d----d sea-captains in the world cannot move
me from that." With that the Doctor beat his fist upon the table until
the glasses rattled again and glared into the Captain's weather-beaten
face.[1]
"Hear the man," said the Captain--"hear him. A man would think he had
spent his days and nights upon the sea, instead of mixing pills and
powders all his life in a snuffy village dispensary."
The quarrel seemed like to be fierce, when a sudden sound struck upon
our ears, and stopped all tongues. I cannot call it a song. Rather,
it was like the moon-struck wailing of some unhappy dog, low, and
unearthly; and yet not that, either, for there were words to it. That
much we all heard distinctly.
"Fifteen two and a pair make four,
Two for his heels, and that makes six."
We listened, awestruck, with blanched faces, scarce daring to look at
one another. For myself, I am bold to confess that I crept under the
sheltering table and hid my head in my hands. Again the mournful notes
were moaned forth--
"Fifteen two and a pair make four,
Two for his heels, and--"
But ere it was ended, Captain JAWKINS had sprung forward, and rushed
into the further corner of the parlour. "I know that voice," he cried
aloud; "I know it amid a thousand!" And even as he spoke, a strange
light dispelled the shadows, and by its rays we could see the
crouching form of BILL BLUENOSE, with the red seam across his face
where the devil had long since done his work.