  Tom Hood, Edward Wylam, Henry Sampson, Paul Gray, H. S. Leigh, W. S. Gilbert, Tom Robertson, Clement Scott, G. A. Sala, Arthur Sketchley, W. J. Prowse, Ashby Sterry, C. H. Leland, Godfrey Turner, Dutton Cook, George R. Sims, Henry Doyle, A. B. Houghton, R.W.S., F. Barnard, G. Thomson, Professor von Herkomer, R.A., Sir John Gilbert, R.A., Hal Ludlow, G. J. Pinwell, R.W.S., E. G. Dalziel, F. A. Fraser, J. F. Sullivan, Lord Dunraven, Ernest Griset, Edward Lear, John Ruskin. Early in 1865 Mr. Edward Wylam became proprietor of the comic periodical Fun—at that time the only competitor of Punch—and was fortunate enough to secure Tom Hood as editor. On taking up the direction, Hood informed us that one of the stipulations he made with Wylam was that we should be solicited to undertake the engraving of all the drawings. At first we felt some hesitation in accepting the commission, thinking it might considerably interfere with very important works we were then engaged upon; but ultimately satisfactory arrangements were concluded, and our relationship continued in the most amicable manner, without a break for six years. In 1870—Mr. Wylam wishing to devote his entire attention to the development of "Spratt's Dog Biscuits," the patent for which he had recently purchased—we became the sole proprietors of the publication, paying for the goodwill and copyright the sum of £6,000, Hood continuing editor until his death. The Old Year and the New. FUN CARTOON, 1867. By Paul Gray. In 1869 Hood commenced the publication of "Tom Hood's Comic Annual," which at once secured a large amount of public favour. The second issue more than covered the slight loss sustained on the first. While the third issue was in preparation we purchased from Hood the title, copyrights, and stock of all literary and artistic matter connected with it for the sum of £600. Tom Hood was, as perhaps half the world knows, the only son of the celebrated wit and poet, Thomas Hood, the author of "The Song of the Shirt," "The Bridge of Sighs," "Eugene Aram," and many other poems of great beauty and purport. The Chosen Champion. By Frederick Barnard. FUN CARTOON, 1869. Tom Hood, like his father, was somewhat of an artist, possessing considerable skill in caricature, and giving a comic "twist" to his sketches. Many of his drawings are scattered through the pages of Fun. He invariably expressed himself well pleased with the manner in which they were reproduced. The following is only one of many letters we received from him: "I am delighted beyond measure with the blocks. I have returned some of the proofs, which I have touched for alteration; which, with scarcely an exception, however, arises from my mistake and not from the engravers'. "Ever yours faithfully, "Tom Hood." During the many years of our intimate association with Tom Hood, we received hundreds of letters and notes from his pen, but the following is the first and only instance in which he signed his name "Thos. Hood." After this, when he had resigned his post at the War Office and sat down steadily to literary work, he always studiously signed his name "Tom," with the express object that his name might not be confounded with that of his father, or that he should be accused of "making capital" out of his father's name and reputation. "21 Montpelier Square, "Dear Sir,—I believe Mr. Routledge has (or is going to do so) given you the illustrations of my book to engrave. "I need not ask you to do me justice, for I know you will do that; but as I am not a professional artist, but an amateur, I fancy I may give you more trouble to understand me at times. "There are one or two blocks that I wish particularly to call your attention to as requiring facsimile engraving, they being likenesses. Two drawn in pencil I wish you not to touch, as I intend, when I come to see you (which I hope to do soon), to put in initial letters, as I think the fun in them forced. I have drawn a rude sketch of them on the other side. I can introduce them thus: a 'W' on the board, and an 'O' on the flag. At present I am sorry to say I am too ill to come over, but I hope to be on my legs again by the end of the week. "I am at the War Office from 10 till 4. Should I be able to see you at 5 if I called? "I hope this will not be our first and last connection in this line, but that it will be a case of 'cut and come again.' "Believe me, "Thos. Hood." FUN OFFICE. Friday. My dear Mr Dalziel With joy I'd resort To dine with the Shandies at fair Hampton Court On Saturday, were I not bound on that day To navigate Thames in the opposite way As one of the crew of the scow "Albert-Victor" (A steamboat that knowing ones vow is a pictur) Which is bound for sweet Margate, the shore light beyond, Being chartered expressly by Spiers & Pond, (This is Spiers and Pond the bard continues) To take down a party—and 'mongst others me— To open their famous new Hall by the Sea. (This is the Haul by the Sea Again the bard urges on his wild careen) So I'm forced—though I'd much like to come if I could— To decline your kind offer. Yours truly E. Dalziel Esq All our transactions with Hood, which continued for close upon ten years, were of the most friendly and agreeable character, leaving behind delightful remembrances of his truly social and sympathetic nature. The letter which we give in facsimile was received in reply to an invitation to join us at an "up-the-river" dinner party, where we promised he should meet a few kindred spirits and spend a very enjoyable day. Unhappily, Tom Hood died too soon, after an illness of some short duration, against which he fought with great courage. He worked with the assistance of his friend Henry Sampson, to the last—taking part in preparing the number of Fun that was published the day after his death, which took place at his house, in Peckham Rye, on November 26th, 1874. Subsequently his widow handed us the following letter, with the remark that they were the last lines he ever wrote: "My dear Sirs,—To the best of my ability, and to the utmost of my power, I have served you loyally and honestly while strength remained. If I have failed it has not been wilfully, and when we have differed in opinion I have only done what I have believed it right to do, or assert beyond mere matter of expediency. "Sampson has long co-operated with me, and now so well understands the working of the paper that it has been of the greatest comfort and use to me to have, for the first time in my life, some one on whom I could entirely rely when I was disabled. "A more disinterested and faithful friend man never had, and I am sure if you transfer the bauble from my hands to his you will have secured fidelity and ability of no unusual order, loyalty and discretion, zeal and determination. It is my dying wish that he might be my successor on Fun. Of course I only express this as simply a wish of "Yours always, "Tom Hood." Old Father Time. By Gordon Thomson. A PORTION OF FUN CARTOON, 1871. AN URBAN DELUSION. Jones knew a thing too much for most people. "Nice bunch o' water-cresses, just fresh in," said his greengrocer. "Oh, ah!" said the knowing Jones; "fresh—oh, yes! after being brought all the way from the country! Not for me, thankee!" For the fact was that the knowing Jones was just off for a day or two in the country himself. AN URBAN DELUSION—(continued.) But it so happened that the same bunch of water-cress went down by the same train as Jones did, and alighted at the same rural station. "Ha!" said Jones, in a stroll down the country lanes, "now, here comes a fellow with a real fresh country bunch of water-cresses; I will buy them and take them home to town with me the day after tomorrow. That's the way to get the real fresh article!" By J. F. Sullivan. From Fun. Among the many men, with whom our connection with Fun and the "Comic Annual" brought us into close communication, who have steadily ascended the ladder of fame—some, alas! no longer with us,—mention ought to be made of Henry S. Leigh, author of "Carols of Cockayne," "Strains from the Strand," and other volumes of verse; a man possessed of rare wit and unquestionable genius, but, unfortunately, without one atom of application or appreciation of the value of time. On one occasion, when some change of contributors was contemplated, Hood wrote: "As for Leigh, he is hopeless: when perpetual motion is patented, a machine might be invented to bring him to the scratch regularly, but—he is unluckily a 'genius.' You might give him a retaining salary that would ensure—his never doing a line." Yet, notwithstanding his extreme dilatoriness, he was a thoroughly good fellow, and Hood was at all times only too glad to receive any contributions he cared to send, for they were certain to contain some quaint conceit and out of the way sentiment. That or Nothing. By G. J. Pinwell, R.W.S. From Fun. Mrs. Vicar.—"Thomas, what has become of you lately? I haven't seen you at Church for several months." Thomas.—"Noa, ye ain't. But I haven't been nowheres else." On Leigh being remonstrated with for non-delivery of promised copy, we received the following: "35 Strand, "To Messrs. Dalziel Brothers, "You have treated me so kindly that I dared, a little blindly, An ambition and a future to your care to recommend. He is timid, he is nervous, but may God above preserve us If we cannot stretch a point or so to gratify a friend. I have sent you oft a lyric, either genial or satiric: Some were bad, and some indifferent, and some were very good. So my errors don't be hard on, but beneficently pardon, Were it only through the memory of dear old Tommy Hood." Of W. S. Gilbert, of "Bab Ballads" and Comic Opera fame, it may not be generally known that all those "topsy-turvy" rhymes were published in Fun: though they were by no means the only work he did for the journal. For a considerable period he wrote a comic paraphrase upon the most popular play produced during the week, as well as an extremely clever series of papers called "People I Have Met." He also wrote several stories for the "Comic Annual." In his selected edition of "Fifty Bab Ballads" he gives the following account of how these happened to be published in Fun: "It may interest some to know that the first of the series, 'The Yarn of the Nancy Bell,' was originally offered to Punch, to which I was at that time an occasional contributor. It was, however, declined by the then editor on the ground that it was 'too Cannibalistic' for his readers' taste." To Even Money! By E. G. Dalziel. From Fun. Teetotal Wife.—"Ah, when that 'evingly Sir Wilfrid 'as 'is way, 'e'll put that nasty beer down!" Irreverent Brute.—"Hope he'll put it down to the price it used to was—thruppence a pot." W. S. Gilbert, like many of his fellow workers on the staff of Fun, began life in the Civil Service, he having been for a short time in the Education Office; but the "diurnal drudgery" was not congenial. His impetuous temperament would not brook direction or control, as his most intimate friends were not slow to discover. Immediately on his fairly breaking away from the "ten to four slavery," the first thing he did was to buy a quire or more of foolscap paper, a bundle of quill pens, and a few pieces of boxwood. Thus armed, he commenced to fire away with pen and pencil, for at that time Gilbert contemplated turning his attention to art. His connection with Fun began in his early days, when he sent some of his "topsy-turvy" things to Mr. Maclean, the first proprietor, who, detecting the unquestionable merit, insisted upon their being accepted and published. Clement Scott, another early and very valued writer on Fun, in a short sketch of his own career, referring to Gilbert, says: "He was courteously, as a contributor, invited to the weekly Fun dinners, and I fear from what I have heard, that at the outset the young writer was not very courteously treated by some of those who afterwards recognised his great talent to the utmost, and became his warmest friends and companions. Frank Burnand, owing to his novel, 'Mokeanna,' was promoted to Punch; Tom Robertson, the dramatist, whom I met at the club on the Fun meetings every week of my life for half a dozen years; Arthur Sketchley, with his 'Mrs. Brown'; and for verse writers, the delightful Henry S. Leigh, Saville Clarke, and your humble servant, who has been writing bad verses for over thirty-five years." So long as Hood lived, George Augustus Sala was a constant contributor, as were Edmund Yates and Arthur Sketchley; the latter gentleman's "Mrs. Brown at the Play," as well as a long series of "Mrs. Brown" papers, chiefly comments on the current events of the day, were all published in Fun, and had immense popularity. Chelsea Hospitality, under a Cloud. By E. G. Dalziel. From Fun. Pensioner (to Workman).—"Got e'er a bit o' baccy about ye?" Workman.—"No, mate!—just smoking the last bit!" Pensioner.—"Come off that there grass—directly!" Another prominent member of the staff was William Jeffrey Prowse, a journalist of great brilliancy and power, and a "leader writer" and constant contributor to the Daily Telegraph. His advent, under the nom de plume of "Nicholas," was announced by Hood in the following quaint terms: "With feelings of considerable pride we inform our readers that we have been enabled (at some expense) to secure the exclusive services of the celebrated 'Nicholas.' ... 'Nicholas,' that friend of man, has benevolently consented to impart (for a certain weekly stipend) the experience of—well, let us say middle age to the generous ardour of youth: AND THIS IS HOW HE DOES IT." But Jeffrey Prowse was something more than the ordinary journalist working to order; he was a poet of no mean power. Some of his productions in this way were published after his death at the end of a small volume of "Nicholas Notes," edited by his friend, Tom Hood. Among his best are "To Be, to Do, and to Suffer," a poem showing great ability; and one named "The City of Prague," of which the following are the first and last verses: "I dwelt in a city enchanted, And lonely indeed was my lot; Two guineas a week, all I wanted, 'Twas certainly all that I got: Well, somehow I found it was plenty, Perhaps you may find it the same, If—if you are just five-and-twenty With industry, hope, and an aim. Tho' the latitude's rather uncertain, And the longitude also is vague, The persons I pity who know not the city: The beautiful City of Prague. * * * * * * * L'Envoi. As for me I have come to an anchor, I have taken my watch out of pawn, I keep an account with a banker, Which, at present, is not overdrawn; Tho' my clothes may be none of the smartest The 'snip' has receipted the bill; But the days I was poor and an artist Are the dearest of days to me still! Tho' the latitude's rather uncertain, And the longitude also is vague, The persons I pity who know not the city: The beautiful City of Prague." Park Lane. By E. F. Brewtnall. From Fun. He.—"What a dreadful noise there is down there with those cabs and things! You can hardly hear yourself speak." She.—"Yes; almost as bad as being at the opera, isn't it?" Poor Prowse died at the early age of thirty-four. Hood, in a short memoir, says: "Prowse, as a writer, was gifted with a great charm of style; with a fertile imagination he possessed a logical mind. The amount of work he has done is astonishing, writing often two or even three leaders a day; and yet amid this constant and fatiguing trial he found time to write poems and essays, papers for the magazines, the annuals, and for Fun." A Drap o' the Best. By William Small. From Fun. First Hielan'man.—"She'll pe ta pest wusky I shall have tastit for efermore." Second Hielan'man.—"So tit I, neither!" Third Hielan'man.—"Neither tit I, too!" We must not omit to mention Ashby Sterry as one of the staff, and a contributor to Fun's pages of much graceful verse. He is well known for his volume, "Lays of a Lazy Minstrel." Then, Charles H. Leland, who gained considerable reputation as the genial Dutchman, Hans Breitmann. This gentleman contributed very liberally to the "Comic Annual." He is one of the most affable and interesting men it has been our good fortune to be associated with. He was full of entertaining anecdote, a true artist and no mean draughtsman—in appearance, a giant, in manner as simple as a child. On one occasion in America he asked a negro the name of a black man of rather fine physique and superior appearance, who was standing near. "He Injun," replied the nigger; "he big Injun; he heap big Injun; he dam heap big Injun; he dam mighty great heap big Injun; He Jones." Jones appeared to be the nigger's culminating pinnacle of greatness! Godfrey Turner, one of the talented young men who, in the early days, did so much towards placing the Daily Telegraph in the high position which it attained among the London morning papers, worked very constantly upon Fun, as well as on the "Comic Annual." Poor fellow! a protracted illness, generally attributed to overwork, incapacitated him during the last two or three years of his life. Dutton Cook's short stories appeared constantly in the "Annual"—among his very last work being one he wrote for that periodical. Nor must we omit to mention Leman Blanchard, who was the author of more Christmas pantomimes than can well be counted. He did this work for Drury Lane under F. B. Chatterton, and then Sir Augustus Harris, for many years, as well as for many of the Provincial theatres. The able and accomplished editor of Sketch, John Latey, also was one of our most-esteemed contributors. Henry J. Byron did much good work for Frank Barrat, Manville Fenn, Austin Dobson, Byron Webber, Moy Thomas, H. C. Newton, and Christie Murray, are the names of others whose work frequently appeared in Fun and the "Comic Annual." On the death of Tom Hood we complied with his dying request and placed the "Bauble" in the hands of Henry Sampson, who had been a constant fellow worker with Hood for some two or three years previous. One of the first things Sampson did was to introduce George R. Sims upon the staff. It is superfluous for us to comment upon Sims' great ability as a dramatist, a writer of short stories and sympathetic ballads, because the voices of the reading and the play-going world have already proclaimed their high appreciation of his genius. Suffice it to say that it was in the pages of Fun that he found his first opportunity of appearing in print. In 1893 when Fun passed out of our hands, he alluded to us in the Referee, with which he had long been associated under the nom de plume of "Dagonet," in the following kind words: "It was by writing a small 'Poem' in Fun that I first won a little journalistic recognition. It was called 'A Dumpty Captain....' It was in November, of 1874, that I first joined the staff of Fun and made my bow to the British public as an anonymous journalist. Tom Hood had just been laid to rest. It was in those days that I commenced my life-long friendship with Henry Sampson, the new editor. Though for me it was a time of struggle, Again, Sims writes: "Although I left Fun in 1877, my association with the Brothers Dalziel was never severed, and right up to the last issue (October, 1893) I was a contributor to 'Hood's Comic Annual,' of which they were the proprietors and editors. I have nothing but pleasant memories of the cheery, generous-hearted brothers and their clever sons; and I am delighted to hear that this year the honoured name will still be on the front page of 'Hood's Annual,' for it is to appear as usual under the editorship of Mr. Charles Dalziel. Later, in January, 1894, he kindly wrote in the same paper: "For nearly half a century the firm of Dalziel Brothers carried on the business of newspaper proprietors and engravers with credit to themselves and advantage to the public, and they gathered around them the best of young men, many of whom have become shining lights in the world of art and letters. To those who had the honour and pleasure of working under them, their friendship and their hospitality were always freely extended, and I have nothing but pleasant memories of the days when I was allowed to be one of their working staff. "The Brothers Dalziel paid me the first money I ever received for verse. Tom Hood, the editor of Fun, had gone to Paris for a holiday, and Henry Sampson edited the journal in his absence, and gave me half a column to fill, and I plunged into poetry at once; and when I left Fun, in 1876, the Brothers wrote me a charming letter, which I still possess. Though my connection with Fun ended then, I remained one of the contributors to 'Hood's Annual' until last year; and so our business relations continued uninterruptedly and pleasantly for nearly twenty years—yes, for quite twenty years, for it was in 1874 that I did my first work for them. Had there been no Dalziels there might have been no 'Dagonet.'" Mistress and Maid. By A. Boyd Houghton, R.W.S. From Fun. Mistress. "Biddy, how is it you did not answer the bell when I rang?' Maid. "Sure, mem, 'twas bekase I didn't know what you was ringing for, mem!" So long as Sims continued on the staff he was at all times a most welcome contributor, and, with one exception, always to our entire satisfaction. The exception came about from the severity of a criticism which he wrote upon Sir Henry Irving's rendering of Macbeth, the humour of the article not being quite as apparent as it was intended to be. This caused Irving [and his friends] so much annoyance that he commenced an action against us for libel. However, Sims at once acknowledged the authorship of the article, with ample apologies and regrets, and assurance that there was no "malice aforethought," and Henry Sampson did the same as the responsible editor, so Sir Henry, in a very handsome and kindly manner, withdrew from the prosecution, and the matter ended. For several years George Dalziel (the elder of the Brothers), regularly contributed short stories and verse to "Hood's Annual." Among the latter was a rather lengthy poem, of which we give a few of the verses: WHAT THE MOON SAW.Oh, can the earth, so dream-like sleeping lie Beneath the rays of that pale silvery moon, That never gives a weary moan or cry, Or sign that sorrow dwelt 'twixt night and noon? There, calmly sailing on amid the stars, She looks as though no ruthless thought nor care, Nor wicked deed could ever be that mars And lays the black spots of our nature bare. She looks as though she never yet had seen An ill deed done in all the million years That she has gazed upon the earth, or been Pale witness to a flood of bitter tears,— Pale witness to the darkest deeds that man, With demon brooding in his heart, could frame: Foul, miry spots her gentle eye doth scan, And "Lady Moon" goes smiling, all the same. Lo! she did see the budding earth when young; She saw the first red rose that e'er did bloom; She heard the first grand carol that was sung, And saw the mountains clothed with golden broom. She heard each silvery stream and gurgling brook Hymn its new song of never-ending praise, And leaves and flowers, in every ferny nook, Sing psalms to greet the glorious king of days. * * * * * * * She heard the first wild notes of Jubal's lyre, That fell upon the ear like magic sound— The first bright spark of that celestial fire That thrills with rapture rare the whole world round. She heard the first loud burst of ocean roar, And saw the crested waves careering fly;— She heard its ripple kiss the sandy shore,— And saw the white foam dash against the sky. * * * * * * * Years, centuries told, come on, and quickly fly, And this world rolls beneath the silvery moon As she sails calmly through the deep blue sky Unheeding joy or sorrow, night or noon. Unheeding revel, wail, or bitter cry, Or joy, or grief, or weary toil, or rest,— She slowly climbs the ever-darkening sky, While dying sunlight pales upon her breast. George Dalziel. From another issue of the "Annual" we make a few extracts from some verses which are entitled: MY BOOKS.My books! my friends, my dear companions all! My never-failing—ever true and fair! There standing round, come ready to my call, And talk, and sing, and tell their wonders rare. If I am sad, they give me joyous song; Or if I wish for pleasant talk the while, My friends are there, and will for short or long, Just as I please, the ling'ring hour beguile. They bring for me the stores of other times,— Oh, rare the grace!—oh, rare the cunning art That stirs the sluggish heart with ringing rhymes! I see the patriot rear his banner high; The troops march gaily through the busy town; Methinks I hear the trembling maiden sigh As her true knight goes forth to seek renown. King Arthur, with his warriors brave and good, Comes forth, the dauntless flower of chivalry; And there be priests in monkish garb and hood, As well as motley fools of revelry. 'Neath walls of Troy I see the valiant Greek, Brave Ajax, and the mighty Hector there; In fancy hear the aged Priam speak, And see fair Helen with the golden hair; The war-like braves in single combat stand, The ponderous spear each doughty hero hurled,— Fair Beatrice takes Dante by the hand, And shows the myst'ries of the hidden world. * * * * * * * Sweet scenes of peace! here in my native land These loving friends will each a posie bring, With wooing words they take my ready hand, And lead, where meadows smile and brooklets sing; Where scented flow'rs cling round the cottage home, Sweet new-mown hay, and fields of ripening corn,— The broad smooth lake, the gorge where waters foam, The shady grove, or by the scented thorn. I see the fairies in the woody dells, I join their midnight revels on the green; The tower where the Enchanted Princess dwells, Embowered in a blaze of golden sheen. With them I travel o'er the arid plain,— And wander where the palm and plantain grow,— Through citron groves—or vine-clad summit gain, Climb mountains clad with thousand years of snow, And seem to breathe the cold crisp frosty air, As from the lofty Alpine icy slope I see the fertile valleys stretching there. 'Mong lofty pines, or where the olives grow; Through far-off lands with Livingstone I roam, Or loiter where the mighty rivers flow, While sitting in my easy chair at home. There is no land in all the world we know, There is no mighty lake or frozen sea, No hidden depth where foot of man can go, But my true friends will find and show to me. For some will sing, and some will tell a tale, A simple story full of jocund glee,— And anecdote with point that cannot fail To cheer the heart with true hilarity; Kind jovial friends that merry songs can sing, Or with a touch of pathos bring the tear; Anon I hear the wedding bells out-ring, And now for gallant deeds the sounding cheer. Here true they stand, the many great and good, The fairest names the world can ever tell; For some like gold the test of time have stood, And some!—Oh, there be "maidens fair" as well, That take a foremost place amid the true, Good trusty friends there loitering by the wall; Here Art and Poetry and Science too, With Travellers that come whene'er I call. When day is done, with all its toil and care, The time that busy men together strove,— My friends come forth the quiet hour to share,— The friends I trust, and trusting, best I love; Here motley fool may preach a sermon true, Or sombre garb may tell a merry tale; Here by the fire where these warm friendships grew They talk to me—the friends that never fail. George Dalziel. THE THEATRE OF NATURE. BOXES. PIT. THE THEATRE OF NATURE—(continued.) GALLERY. AT THE DOOR. By Ernest Griset. From Fun. During the period that Fun was in our possession George Dalziel was a constant contributor, writing upon the passing events of the day under the general heading of "Dots by the Way." Few matters in modern history caused greater excitement in the public mind than the many unsuccessful attempts of our troops to reach Khartoum for the relief of General Gordon, and, on the news of how the place had fallen and the brave hero had been murdered by a horde of savage Dervishes, the following verses appeared: DEATH OF GENERAL GORDON.["The Fortress of Khartoum was treacherously delivered up to the Mahdi on January 26th, 1885, when General Gordon was slain."—Daily Paper.] Hush! let no sound of revelry or song Be heard in all our busy streets to-day,— For such dark news falls 'mong the surging throng As sends men sadly pondering on their way. Sad news that sends a pang of crushing pain To every honest heart throughout the land. Khartoum betrayed! her brave defenders slain, And Gordon fallen by the assassin's hand. Great, noble Gordon, ever true and brave, That held this 'leagured city 'gainst the foe,— And all that man could do, he did to save The women and their babes from direful woe; But who can stand against the cunning art, The cruel, dark device, and darker sin That traitors use, when with a fiendish heart They ope' the gates and let the foemen in? Beloved by all who knew his noble heart, Or ever felt the warm grasp of his hand, The loving kindness and the ready part He took in each good work in every land. To help the lowly in their poor estate, He spent his life to free the fettered slave, And guide the suffering to a better fate. O grand career, unsullied to its close! Its splendour yet shall brighter shine, and tell In glowing numbers how he faced his foes, And how by treason dire, great Gordon fell. With head bowed down we mourn the good man gone,— And with our sorrow comes a sense of shame, That in the midst of foes he stood alone, And died with added glory to his name. The tale spreads like a black cloud o'er the land; 'Tis like a darkening blight that falls at noon, When men together meet and wondering stand, And gaze as though the stricken heart would swoon,— The flaming sword, the "lightning of the spear," Shone in the place where multitudes were slain, The air is full of wailing, and we hear, Mingled with prayer, the groan of mortal pain. George Dalziel. Again, when the decisive battle was fought under the command of Lord, then Sir Garnet, Wolseley, at Tel-el-Kebir, which practically brought the revolt led by Arabi Pasha to a close, this song appeared: A SONG FOR OUR BRAVES.[On the return of Troops from Egypt in 1882, after the victory at Tel-el-Kebir.] A song now for the Guards, Right gallant deeds they've done, And liberal rewards Their bravery has won; The world beheld with pride On Egypt's sandy plain Their dreary midnight ride— The battle charge. Like rain Before the raging storm they swept the foe away, And victory was won at the dawning of the day. There in the dull grey morn, With paling stars o'erhead, We hear the bugle horn,— The shouts of those who led; We seem to hear the crash, To see the gleaming steel,— The cannons roar and flash, The dusky foemen reel: One moment at their guns they stood, then fled in wild dismay, And victory was won at the dawning of the day. Our heroes now come back, In pride they march along; Be sure they shall not lack Warm welcome, cheers and song; Tho' some were left behind, And fill a soldier's grave, Their honoured names we'll find 'Mong records of the brave Who fell that morn while fighting and upheld old England's sway, When victory was won at the dawning of the day. George Dalziel. For many years we published at intervals several small volumes of short stories, by George Dalziel, some of them having been previously printed in the various issues of the "Comic Annual." These volumes had considerable popularity, the most successful being, "My Neighbour Nellie," "Dick Boulin's Four-in-Hand," "The Story of a Shop," "A Soldier's Sweetheart," and "Only a Flower Girl." We also put together three volumes of verse, with the titles of "Mattie Grey, and Other Poems," "Faces in the Fire," and, later, "Unconsidered Trifles." The first two of these were printed exclusively for private distribution, but the last volume was addressed to An Illogical De-duck-tion. By E. G. Dalziel. From Fun. New Mother.—"Now then, Polly, come and have your hat on, there's a little duck!" Polly.—"Shan't! Other little ducks don't wear none—there now." [The rest of the argument is lost in outcries and dissolved in tears. The following lines, printed in "Faces in the Fire," were written as an affectionate tribute to the memory of one of the sweetest and most loveable of women: MY MOTHER'S SONGS.Of all the songs from sweetest voice, In the sweet days of old, That made my inmost soul rejoice, However oft they're told, Are those sweet songs my mother sung While we were round her knee; When all the world seemed blythe and young And fresh and fair to see. O, I have wandered far away In sunny lands of song,— And I have heard the minstrels play That thrilled the listening throng; Tho' sweet the charm when beauty sings,— And sweet the minstrelsie,— There is no charm that memory brings Like those old songs to me. Oft in the calm clear starry night, Among the leafy trees,— Or on the weird lone mountain height, And in the gentle breeze,— Or on the rough wild stormy sea, When all is dark and drear, The dear old songs will come to me,— My mother's songs I hear. Sweet is the strange enchanting spell That lures all thought away, To warm fireside or woody dell, Where we were wont to play. Glad mem'ries fondly cling; And oft' the sweet old songs will come My mother used to sing. Through many years of joyous life I reach the sere and old; Now all the battle and the strife, The fierce sun, and the cold, Are o'er for me, and calm I wait Until the "joy-bells" ring; For I shall hear at Heaven's gate My angel mother sing. George Dalziel. Of the many art contributors, it will be sufficient if we state the names of the principal men whose works have adorned the pages of Fun and Hood's "Comic Annual." Of these, naturally, the cartoonists take the foremost place. Paul Gray, who held this position on Hood assuming the editorship, was a young Irish artist of very considerable promise, and displayed much fine feeling for black and white work. He also made drawings for some of our "Fine Art Books." He was a man of delicate constitution, and within twelve months of his joining the Fun staff he fell into a consumption and died. Shortly before the sad event, writing to us on other subjects, he said: "I take the opportunity of saying how very pleased I am with the way in which the cartoons are engraved—some of the latter, more especially, could not possibly be better." Jeffrey Prowse, in one of his poems, makes the following touching allusion to the early death of his young friend: "There is one of our band whom we cherished— The youngest, the purest, the best— In the frost of the night-time he perished, Going quietly home to his rest; And we thought, as we buried our dear one, And mournfully turned us to go, That the summons was still sounding near one— Listen! On bot, On bot le rappel lÀ-haut!" Going Home to Love in a Cottage. By F. A. Fraser. From Fun. The very spot where the Snorkers held a pic-nic. Oh! didn't the ladies cry out in one voice, "I could live in such a charming place for ever, if only——" At the self-same pic-nic, Tilbury Pawkins plighted his troth to Amelia Softispoon. Now they are married, and Amelia has begun trying to live in the "charming place," and Pawkins is going home to a damp cottage and a rheumatic wife as blithely as a newly-married man should. Then came W. J. Weigand, followed by A. Boyd Houghton. Notwithstanding the great ability of the latter, his quality of mind hardly fitted him to join in with Tom Hood's idea of the punctuality indispensable for conducting a weekly periodical. Next came Henry Doyle, a brother of the more famous Richard Doyle—an extremely careful and painstaking artist—who subsequently became Keeper of the Dublin National Gallery, with the distinction of C.B. After Doyle came Fred Barnard, an artist of surpassing versatility and humour. Perhaps it is not too much to say that in wit and true comicality he far outstripped all his predecessors on the journal; but some slight difference of opinion with the editor—or was it some interference on the part of Mr. Wylam, the then proprietor—caused him to secede from the position. Then followed Gordon Thomson, an artist upon the merits of whose productions there was a wide difference of opinion; but he did much good work—the series of double-pages in connection with the Franco-Prussian War being exceptionally strong. His large pictures for Christmas and other Holiday Numbers were remarkable for the varied topical events he crowded into them, and those who remember his "Academy Skits" will know what quaint burlesques they were. Here is an appreciation by one of his most distinguished contemporaries: Sir John Gilbert said: "These funny 'Academy Skits' are extravagant to a degree, and at the same time they give such a complete embodiment of the picture in hand as to stamp the subject in my mind far more fixedly than any careful copy could possibly do." Among the general contributors to Fun were many well-known draughtsmen—Professor H. von Herkomer, R.A.; George J. Pinwell, R.W.S.; Hal Ludlow, and "E. G. D." The last named (the eldest son of Edward Dalziel) was a young artist full of promise and great ability. Had he given continued attention to his oil painting he must undoubtedly have taken a very high position. He exhibited many pictures at the Royal Academy, the Grosvenor, and other galleries, but the allurement of black and white became too much for him, and he laid aside his brush for the pencil. He contributed many excellent works to our various "Fine Art Books," as well as to our "Bible Gallery." Unfortunately he died at the early age of 39. Amongst his many admirers was Sir John Gilbert, as the following letter, which refers to his drawings in Fun, will show: "Vanbrugh Park, Blackheath, "Dear Mr. Dalziel,—Pray accept my best thanks for your kind remembrance. "The drawings as they appear weekly in Fun I always admired. The uncommon humour, the wonderfully expressive faces, with attitude in accordance with the face, is always delightful and wonderful. "The idea of gathering them together in a volume was excellent and I had intended to get the book. I thank you again for it. "Pray remember me very kindly to your brother and your son, and with best wishes for your continued prosperity, health and happiness, "I am, very truly yours, "John Gilbert." Argumentum ad Hominem. By J. Mahoney. From Fun. Young Graceless.—"Natural selection!" Old Graceless.—"Certainly! Only the finest specimens of the race survive." Young Graceless.—"Come now, that won't do! Why, you're over sixty now, and good for another twenty years!" Among other artists employed on Fun were—William Small; Harry French; "F. A. F." (Francis A. Fraser), and his brother, G. Gordon Fraser, whose sketches of humorous Irish character were for several years a prominent feature in the journal (poor fellow! during the very severe winter of 1895 he was accidentally drowned while skating); E. J. Brewtnall, R.W.S., the water colour painter; F. S. Walker, R.H.A.; George Gatcombe, Harry Tuck; and J. W. Houghton. The last named also contributed the dramatic criticisms, with illustrations, for several years. Jack Houghton is a ready writer of smart, clever verse, and wrote all the rhymed descriptions to Gordon Thomson's "Academy Skits." Another very talented youth who it was our good fortune to introduce on Fun's pages, both in literature and art, was J. F. Sullivan. He was a student at South Kensington, when he first forwarded some sketches for our inspection; and seeing they gave evidence of considerable ability, we at once availed ourselves of his drawings. Though he had much originality of conception and design, he did OYSTERS. "Here you are! the finest natives! best of appetite-creatives. Come and buy! Taste and try!" By Ernest Griset. From Fun. There was a distinct cleverness about the quaint grotesque drawings of Ernest Griset, a young Frenchman, who made his appearance in London Griset was, and is, a hard and rapid worker. He has been engaged in many other ways as an illustrator; much on "Prehistoric Man." Also as a decorator of public halls, he has done good things. Àpropos to a Proposal. By Hal Ludlow. From Fun. Frank (just accepted).—"Love thee, dearest? Ay, and when time shall have furrowed these youthful cheeks and dimmed the lustre of your eyes, when age shall have threaded silver amidst these glossy locks and bowed the figure erstwhile straight——" Laura (hastily).—"Oh, Frank, I hope not! Think how old you will be!" W. S. Brunton, known as "Billy" Brunton, was a young Irishman full of racy humour and odd fancies. He was a constant contributor of comic sketches dealing with passing events of every-day life. It is well known that when the present Earl Dunraven was a young man he was occupied for many years as a journalist, on the London Press. He was of a genial disposition, a fluent writer, and a general favourite among his brethren of the pen, as well as a popular member of the Savage Club at the time that "Billy" Brunton and some few other kindred spirits kept the place pretty lively with their jovial nights and merry Irish rollicking. On one occasion, shortly after Dunraven had come into the title and estates, a small group of "Savages" were standing gossiping in the club smoke-room, when he very quietly said: "By the way, old chums, now that my position in the world is a little altered, and I have been obliged to change my name, I hope there may be no reserve on your parts, or change of feeling towards me, and that we shall continue to meet and chum together on precisely the same friendly terms, and with the same cordial good-fellowship, that has always existed among us." "Billy" Brunton, who happened to be one of the group, laid his hand, with a caressing pat, on Dunraven's shoulder, and in an encouraging tone said: "All right, old man, that shall be all right, so let your mind be entirely at ease on that score. Bedad, I pledge my word for it; and I'm sure I speak the sentiments of every member of this club, that 'although your position in the world is a little altered, and you have been compelled to change your name,' you'll find no change in us—for you shall at all times be treated with precisely the same respect and the same consideration that has always been shown you here; and to prove I'm entirely in earnest in what I say—gentlemen, I propose that Dunraven stands glasses round." It is hardly necessary to say that the proposal met with approval by the entire party, or that it was responded to by the noble "Savage." Henry Sampson remained editor of Fun and "Tom Hood's Comic Annual" for nearly four years, when he resigned that position to commence a weekly newspaper—the Referee. Early in the Sixties we made the acquaintance of Edward Lear, who was a landscape painter of great distinction, a naturalist, a man of high culture, and a most kind and courteous gentleman. He came to us bringing an original chromo-lithographic copy of his "Book of Nonsense"—published some years before by McLean of the Haymarket. His desire was to publish a new and cheaper edition. With this view he proposed having the entire set of designs redrawn on wood, and he commissioned us to do this, also to engrave the blocks, print, and produce the book for him. When the work was nearly completed, he said he would sell his rights in the production to us for £100. We did not accept his offer, but proposed to find a publisher who would undertake it. We laid the matter before Messrs. Routledge & Warne. They declined to buy, but were willing to publish it for him on commission, which they did. The first edition sold immediately. Messrs. Routledge then wished to purchase the copyright, but Mr. Lear said, "Now it is a success they must pay me more than I asked at first." The price was then fixed at £120, a very modest advance considering the mark the book had made. It has since gone through many editions in the hands of F. Warne & Co. Lear told us how "The Book of Nonsense" originated. When a young man he studied very "Surely the most beneficent and innocent of all books yet produced is the 'Book of Nonsense,' with its corollary carols, inimitable and refreshing, and perfect in rhythm. I really don't know any author to whom I am half so grateful for my idle self as Edward Lear. I shall put him first of my hundred authors." John Proctor, the celebrated cartoonist, had retired from his position, and had gone over to Moonshine, the then new "comic," and William Boucher had taken his place, before we became connected in any way with Judy, or The London Serio Comic Journal. Charles H. Ross was the editor when the paper came into our hands in 1872. Madame. By Frederick Barnard. "She is one of the most amiable ladies I ever met, and has a pleasant smile and a pretty something to say to one and all, and she doesn't mean a word she says. Watch her now softly crossing the floor, no doubt fearful of waking old Mr. Topperton, whose heavy breathing might by the ill-disposed almost be likened to a snore. See, she is carrying a pillow; doubtless it is to prop up Topperton's head, now resting against the hard wooden edge of the chair at a painful angle. Not a bit of it." "Behind a Brass Knocker" (Judy).—Charles H. Ross. Published by Mr. Gilbert Dalziel. One of the principal contributors to the paper at this period was Ernest Warren, an admirable verse writer. He, too, wrote for the stage. Of his books, many of which were of "The Round Table" series, the most popular were "Four Flirts," and "The White Cat." Another, which had run through the Journal, and was written in collaboration with his friend Ross, was "Rattletrap Rhymes and Tootletum Tales." All three books went through many editions. "The Bloomin' Flower of Rorty Gulch" was published in the last-named book, and shows Ross's power as a sarcastic verse writer. As a recitation, the poem is very popular, and in the hands of that clever and esteemed actor, E. J. Odell, who has made a feature of it for many years, it is highly appreciated in Bohemian and other circles. In his "Book of Beauty" Ross says "On Love": "Ladies and gentlemen! there is no such thing as love. "This fact is thrown in by A. Sloper without any extra charge. "Some people take a long while to find this out, and some never do quite find it out: those are the lucky ones. "During A. Sloper's infancy, when A. Sloper was a mere boy, he was under the impression that he was in love, and couldn't eat over two eggs and a couple of rashers for breakfast; but it turned out he was wrong, and only wanted medicine. "Later on he had another attack, and made poetry. He made a line that ended with love, and stuck grove on to the end of another, and move on to the end of a third, and hove and stove on to the end of the fourth and fifth, and still he was not happy, nor was any one else to whom he read the poem. "Love has been the stock-in-trade of all poets ever since the first poet started in business, and they have generally treated the subject from a thoroughly business-like point of view. "A young man once late at night told A. Sloper that some people never tell their love, but feed on their damask—and he fell down immediately after making the observation. "A. Sloper has known men who could not make love, but have made boots, Geneva watches, and other things, very well indeed. He has also known men who could make love, but could never propose. You might have brought actions against them, and still they couldn't." Mister Mite. By Frederick Barnard. "'What is it?' she asks. "'It is him—papa,' responds Melia; 'he has come back!'" "Behind a Brass Knocker" (Judy).—Charles H. Ross. Published by Mr. Gilbert Dalziel. And see the glowing description of "The Beautiful Gymnast: A Fragment": " ... Nothing could have been more lovely! "Scarcely eighteen summers had passed over the golden-hued silkiness of the tightly-bound tresses of that classic head. The flush of health was on her peachy cheeks. The joyousness of youth lit up her big blue eyes, and wreathed her red lips into a smile, that showed two rows of glistening teeth. The tightly-fitting dress revealed in all its glorious young beauty the faultless contour of her form. "She cast an eye of pardonable pride upon the shapely limbs supporting her; then turned her eyes upward towards the horizontal bar, set her teeth, and jumped. "An instant later, and she had sat down sharply on the resonant bounding-board with a deuce of a bump! and all the plain young women looking on were smiling...." On the Uselessness of Nursery Lore. By E. G. Dalziel. "NURSERY MORALS" (JUDY). Published by Mr. Gilbert Dalziel. One of the most interesting series of stories that Charles H. Ross wrote for Judy, he called "Behind a Brass Knocker." This was done in conjunction with Fred Barnard, who made all of the drawings. It was rather a sad theme—the experiences of a lot of impecunious people living together in a boardinghouse, the poorest of them all being Mrs. Mite, whose shifts and cunning ways are told with a touch of pathos, her crowning trouble being a drunken husband. The work had considerable success in volume form. Fred Barnard's work in this was of his very best kind. Ross also wrote a series of wonderfully clever articles to accompany a set of drawings by E. G. Dalziel, which were strangely unlike the usual work of this artist—so much so, as to suggest the idea that he must have been under the influence of Gustave DorÉ at the time. Ross called them "Nursery Morals," which were of a fanciful character. After playfully rebuking "Little Bo-Peep" on her vanity, he concludes: "I think the artist might as well have shown us the nose of one of the silly sheep peeping round a distant corner; but perhaps the sheep were all tired of her airs and graces, and had taken themselves off in disgust. I am not naturally of a malignant disposition, but I sincerely trust she never did find those sheep. Don't you?" "On The Giant-Killer," he writes: "I have every reason to believe that abnormally large men are comparatively harmless. There must be exceptions, of course, and I will give you 'Sir Roger' and Count Fosco. The Count, by the way, is a fictitious personage, and perhaps 'Sir Roger' was also rather that way inclined. "These, however, were enormously fat men, not giants, and I have to do with giants. Now, we have it on good authority, that the intellect of a giant is generally as weak as his knees. We hear over and over again of giants in shows being awfully bullied by the 'smallest man in the world,' who travels with him, and who is exhibited outside on the parade in a largish-sized doll's house, through the roof of which he pokes out his head, whilst he rings a bell from the second-floor window, and rests his feet in the front parlour." On Love as a Passion. By E. G. Dalziel. "NURSERY MORALS" (JUDY). Published by Mr. Gilbert Dalziel. He remarks "On the Utter Wrongness of Nursery Lore": "The more I reflect upon the unworthiness of the Nursery hero, as compared with the spotless purity of my own character (I am a London tradesman), the more am I lost in wonder to think that these alarming humbugs should so long have been tolerated by an indulgent public. When I think of that fellow whose name is associated with the beanstalk of abnormal growth—an unhappy combination of rogue and fool—when I think of that wholesale murderer (another Jack), and indeed all the rest of them, I ask myself 'Why so?' and all that remains of the Echo, at one halfpenny, is discreetly silent." "On Love as a Passion": "The passion of love is very properly excluded from the subjects discussed in the best regulated nurseries. Indeed, in households where the young lady's material has reached a certain height and breadth and fulness, the love that has any particular amount of passion in it is not the one discussed. And I think it right that it should not be. "Writing as I do exclusively for female babes (or rather, I should say, young lady babes, because a young lady babe ought not to be called a female, and would with reason feel annoyed at being called one), I am anxious to do away with the passionate love-fiction altogether. Of course, I know I have only to explain the thing properly, in my own particular way, and the thing will at once be done away with; and surely it is my duty to do so, when by doing so, I know I shall do good." "Even Mr. Codlin had nothing to urge against a proposal so seasonable. Nelly, kneeling down beside the box, was soon busily engaged in her task, and accomplishing it to a miracle." "The Old Curiosity Shop" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By Charles Green, R.I. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. In 1888, Gilbert Dalziel, who had been working in the interests of the paper from the day it came into our hands, took over the journal, paying the sum of eight thousand pounds for it. He at once made considerable alterations in the conduct of the paper. Amongst his artistic staff were that powerful draughtsman, W. G. Baxter; Bernard Partridge, one of the most brilliant and deservedly popular black and white men of our time; Maurice Greiffenhagen, whose drawings had graced the pages of Judy from the day of his early studentship; Alfred Bryan, inimitable in his way; Fred Pegram, Raven Hill, F. H. Townsend, and Fred Barnard. With such a list of artists at work week by week, small wonder that it should now be spoken of as "The Golden Period" of Judy. In the pages of Judy, Charles H. Ross created the character of Ally Sloper and also of his friend Ikey Moses. In the early part of 1884, Gilbert Dalziel conceived and modelled a new publication, to be called the Half-Holiday, in which Ally Sloper was to be a leading character. It was finally decided, however, to add the Old Man's name to the title, and on May 3rd, 1884, Ally Sloper's Half-Holiday made its first appearance. Amongst the many quaint features of the paper, perhaps the "Award of Merit" stands foremost. This decoration consists of a very clever design by W. G. Baxter, executed in colours, and has been presented to and accepted by men and women of the highest distinction in all branches of art, science, literature, music, and the professions generally. "'You're the wax-work child, are you not?' said Miss Monflather. "'Yes, ma'm,' replied Nell, colouring deeply." "The Old Curiosity Shop" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By Charles Green, R.I. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. Gilbert Dalziel has in his possession a collection of autograph letters, in acknowledgment of the "Award," from some of the most eminent folks before the public during the latter part of the old century, amongst whom may be mentioned—Lord Tennyson, as representing Literature; Sir John E. Millais, Bart., P.R.A., for Painting and Drawing on Wood; Sir Arthur Sullivan, for Music; Sir Charles Russell, for Law; Arthur W. Pinero and Sir Henry Irving, for the Drama; Lord Charles Beresford, for the Navy; and Lord Roberts (when he was in command in India), for the Army. Charles H. Bennett was one of the most original artists of his period. Alas! his life was all too short. There was an individual stamp about his work—independent in manner and full of deep thought. We had many of his drawings through our hands and knew him well. A more earnest man concerning his work we never met; and, not unlike Pinwell, he held it as a principle that time should never be allowed to enter into the question; the task should be defined, but never trammelled by, "How long will it take?"—whether it be days, weeks or years, for the proper execution of the project. Perhaps his "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress" will rank as his greatest achievement. We have already spoken of our connection with Messrs. Chapman & Hall, on that light feat of Doyle's, the "Panorama." There were also a very clever set of drawings for "Fairy Tales of all Nations," by Richard Doyle, and illustrations to Morley's "Oberon's Horn, and other Fairy Tales," by Charles H. Bennett, which we produced for the same firm. "I made my way back to the 'Dolphin's Head.' In the gateway I found J. Mellows looking at nothing, and apparently experiencing that it failed to raise his spirits. "'I don't care for the Town,' said J. Mellows, when I complimented him on the sanitary advantage it may or may not possess; 'I wish I had never seen the Town.'" "The Uncommercial Traveller" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By E. G. Dalziel. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. When Charles Dickens abandoned the etchings of H. K. Browne as a means of illustrating his books, the next work, "Our Mutual Friend," was placed in the hands of Marcus Stone, whose father, Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A., had for many years been a next-door neighbour and a very constant friend of Dickens. Some of these drawings, which are marked with all the refinement and good taste of this popular artist, were entrusted to us to engrave. We were early engaged on the various editions of the works of Charles Dickens, commencing (through our friend, Ebenezer Landells,) with the wood engravings for "Master Humphrey's Clock," which were soon followed by those for the "Christmas Books" from drawings by Richard Doyle, John Leech, and Daniel Maclise. But by far the most important commission ever placed in our hands by Messrs. Chapman & Hall was the production and entire control of the illustrations for the Household Edition of the Works of Charles Dickens, which was commenced in serial form in 1871 and completed in 1879, thus extending over a period of eight years. The publishers began the issue with "Pickwick," using the original designs by H. K. Browne ("Phiz"), but immediately after this Mr. Frederick Chapman placed the entire control of the illustrations in our hands. We were to find the best artists we considered suitable for the various works. The first selected was James Mahoney, who had already attained some distinction in drawing on wood. He did in all three books, the first being "Oliver Twist," followed by "Little Dorrit" and "Our Mutual Friend." Mahoney "On the second occasion of my seeing him he said, huskily, to the man of sleep, 'Am I red to-night?' 'You are,' he uncompromisingly answered." "The Uncommercial Traveller" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By E. G. Dalziel. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. "78 Park Road. "Dear Mr. Dalziel,—These proofs are so beautiful I cannot find any fault; and should be a brute if I did. The only one I have touched is because it is a little too dark and heavy—perhaps it is a heavy proof. I am delighted with them generally. I send two more drawings. Please do not forget to let me have the three proofs I mentioned in this morning's letter. "Yours very truly, "C. Green." Again on another occasion: "I like those proofs very much indeed; they are beautiful. There is only one thing wants touching—the face of the Charwoman in No. 27 is rather muddy, it wants clearing up a bit. I have touched the proof." H. French, a clever and popular artist, the son of an accomplished wood engraver, who came of the Bewick school, did the pictures for "Hard Times," and very good they were. "He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the carriage. All his followers stooped to look under the carriage." "A Tale of Two Cities" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By Frederick Barnard. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. F. A. Fraser, a well-known illustrator, made those for "Great Expectations." A. B. Frost, an American artist of great ability, did "American Notes," and Gordon Thomson "Pictures from Italy." E. G. Dalziel undertook "Reprinted Pieces" and "The Uncommercial Traveller," as well as other short stories. Of "E. G. D.'s" work we will here quote two letters by distinguished artists in appreciation. "2 Palace Gate, "Dear Dalziel,—I ought to have thanked you for your kind and thoughtful present of Xmas books. The illustrations of your son to 'The Uncommercial Traveller' are admirable. I recognise his work in Fun, and the care of his work is not lost upon "Yours very truly, "J. E. Millais." "Vanbrugh Park, "Dear Mr. Dalziel,—I thank you for the volume, where your son's drawings show an amazing care and truth—a certain weirdness most telling in some subjects, notably, 'Chips, the Carpenter'—the Devil with the Rat on his shoulder is grand. There is a Donkey, taken into custody by the police, most beautifully drawn. The Cart is by Albert Durer, so also is 'Mr. Baker's Trap'; 'A Cheap Theatre' is good, full of varied character; so is the Group of Chair-menders on title—the man's eyes screwed up because of the sun, and the woman looking through the back of the chair. There is a group of old women on p. 136 which is capital; very good character on p. 101, also on p. 84. 'Mr. J. Mellows,' p. 112, very good. "With best wishes for health and happiness to you and yours, "I am, dear Mr. Dalziel, "John Gilbert." "'No matter! What do you mean, sir?' was the tart rejoinder. 'No matter! Do you think you bring your paltry money here as a favour or a gift; or as a matter of business, and in return for value received?'" "Nicholas Nickleby" (Household Edition).—Charles Dickens. By Frederick Barnard. By permission of Messrs. Chapman & Hall. But of all the artists engaged on this edition Frederick Barnard held the most prominent position, he having fully illustrated no less than nine out of twenty books. Barnard ranks as one of England's truly comic artists; but he was not only comic, he was one of the most versatile artists of our time. He unquestionably stands among the foremost illustrators of Dickens. The many drawings he made for the Household Edition, as well as some larger pictures, illustrating the works of the great author, all possess a certain peculiarity: while the drawings are strictly in his own style, there is just enough resemblance to the figures created by H. K. Browne to save you a shock; the Dick Swiveller, the Bill Sykes, and other characters are the same as one had accepted when the stories were first written. A powerful set of drawings are those for "How the Poor Live," which were commissioned by Gilbert Dalziel, in connection with G. R. Sims' articles, for publication in the Pictorial World. Again, how grand are many of his designs for the "Pilgrim's Progress," which we prepared for Alexander Strahan; one of the most effective is "Lord Hategood," from which we commissioned him to paint an oil picture. Barnard was no mean painter: perhaps his "Saturday Night in the East End" and "The Guards' Band Marching" are amongst his most important works. He also painted a "Ball-room Scene," of an elegant character, from one of the Dickens' books, that had a very prominent place in the Institute of Painters in Oil Colours. Our long connection with Barnard was of close intimacy and friendship; he was a delightful companion, amusing, and full of bright repartee, and would often "set the table in a roar." As a mimic and comic singer he was inimitable. A favourite song of his at studio evenings was "I Long to be a Hartist, Mother," written by himself, we believe, and screamingly funny. As a practical jokist, Fred Barnard was simply au fait. On one occasion he called at Soane's Museum in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and asked the porter if Sir John Soane was at home. "Why, lor bless you, sir," said the man, "Sir John Soane has been dead these sixty years." Barnard was staggered at the news and overwhelmed with grief, and beating his breast he cried, "Dead! Dead! Dead! And we were boys at school together!" His own death, poor chap, was tragic, and a great shock to all who knew him. He was an ardent smoker. One morning, having had breakfast in bed, he requested that he should not be disturbed again for some hours; when the servant went to call him there was no response, and on the door being forced open the room was found to be full of smoke, the bed-clothes smouldering fire. It is supposed that while courting further sleep he lit a pipe, which, falling from his mouth, ignited the clothes; although somewhat severely burnt, his death was, in fact, due to suffocation, and he passed away while in a state of insensibility. George Dalziel 1901 From a Photograph by Grace and Dora Dalziel. Edward Dalziel 1901 From a Photograph by Grace and Dora Dalziel. |
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