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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887
    Ebook70 pages50 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, Nov. 11, 1887

      Author: Various

      Release Date: March 31, 2012 [EBook #39315]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

      Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer, Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 93. NOVEMBER 12, 1887.

      THE LETTER-BAG OF TOBY, M.P.

      FROM A HOME-SICK SECRETARY.

      By Guildford, Saturday.

      [Illustration: D]EAR TOBY,

      I HOPE you will forgive my not being more precise as to my whereabouts. The fact is if I can get away from London for a day or two without leaving my address, I am only too glad to do so. I was at the Cabinet Council on Thursday, afterwards ran down here, et j'y reste, at any rate over Sunday. I am getting more and more tired of London, and the office sardonically called Home. It has never been a sweet resting-place, and of late has grown absolutely intolerable. I used once to have Sunday to myself; but now, owing to the new-born church-going fervour of the Unemployed, Sunday is the worst day of the week. So when opportunity offers, as just now, I cut the whole business and get me into the sweet seclusion of Surrey.

      I see by the papers that I am about to resign office, and retire into that private life, upon which during the past twelve months I have looked back with increasing affection. Perhaps the statement is true, and perhaps the Markiss would say it is not authentic. We shall see. In the mean time, at this distance from Parliament Street, I get the advantage of perspective in regarding the office of Home Secretary. Down here it seems odd enough that it should be so much hankered after by men of various temperaments. H-NRY J-M-S wanted it at the time H-RC-RT secured it. It had a strange fascination for L-WE, and I am disclosing no secret when I mention that my old friend and patron, GR-ND-LPH, fancies it would suit him down to the ground. I only wish he would try it. If I were certain that he would come in, it might have some effect in hastening my decision on the question of resignation. Of course GR-ND-LPH and I remain on terms of friendliest regard. I am indebted to him for a sudden promotion exceeding the hopes of the most sanguine politician. Still, I would like to see him at the Home Office, if only for a short six months. He is serenely confident he could grapple with the situation. JOHNNY RUSSELL was quite a nervous, modest person, compared with GR-ND-LPH. I should really like to see my old friend in my old chair.

      The post, of course, has its attractions. It is no small thing to be principal Secretary of State, with a seat in the Cabinet, and an adequate salary. But, to tell the truth, dear TOBY, the Home Secretary lives too near the People to have an uninterruptedly pleasant time. He is too close to, and too frequently under, the public eye. It is like working in a glass hive. A Foreign Secretary labours in secret in the Samoan Islands, or some equally remote quarter, and months elapse before the publication of the Blue Book places his labour under the criticism of the public. The Secretary for the Colonies works under similar conditions, whilst the First Lord of the Admiralty and the War Secretary, except upon rare occasions, have only their respective Services to deal with.

      But the Home Secretary is, necessarily, always at home to impertinent lookers-in, or idle callers who have not sufficient business of their own to attend to. If anything goes wrong with the water or the gas, if a country Magistrate makes a more

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