_Il était un homme de Madère Qui cassa le nez à son père. On demandait "Pourquoi?" Il répondit "Ma foi! Vous n'avez pas connu mon père!"_ _Il existe une Espinstère à Tours, Un peu vite, et qui porte toujours Un ulsteur peau-de-phoque, Un chapeau bilicoque, Et des nîcrebocqueurs en velours._ [Illustration: VICISSITUDES OF A RISING PERIODICAL THE PROPRIETOR: "I'll tell you what it is, Shardson, I'm getting sick of the 'ole bloomin' Show! _The Knacker_ ain't selling a Scrap--no notice took of us anywhere--not a bloomin' Advertisement! And yet there ain't 'ardly a livin' Englishman of mark, from Tennyson downwards, as we 'aven't shown up and pitched into, and dragged 'is Name in the Mud!" THE EDITOR: "Don't let's throw up the Sponge yet, Old Man! Let's give the dead 'uns a turn--let's have a shy at Thackeray, Browning, George Eliot, or, better still, let's bespatter General Gordon and Cardinal Newman a bit--_that_ ought to fetch 'em a few, and bring us into Notice!"] [Sidenote: _Russel and Delane_] Turning for the moment from gay to grave, we may note that _Punch_ bestowed his benediction on the _Dictionary of National Biography_, when the first instalment of what was the greatest act of true sportsmanship in the publishing world of our times appeared in January, 1885. _Per contra_, the proposal for a British Academy in 1890 only met with irreverent suggestions from _Punch_ for the constitution of the Elective Body. _Punch_ kept a watchful eye on the developments of journalism and periodical literature. He notes in 1876 the impending appearance of _Truth_, but his opinion of Society journals, discussed elsewhere, was not flattering. When Alexander Russel, the great editor of the _Scotsman_, died in July, 1876, _Punch_ did not fail to recognize the conspicuous services of that fearless, honest and trenchant publicist and _malleus stultorum_:-- The shadows that make up our night, Were growing thin for him to fight, But still he fights, we think with pride, Our battle from the other side! * * * * * Long in our mêlée will be missed The mace of Russel's mighty fist, That struck and, wasting nought in sound, Buried its blow without rebound. Bagehot, equally distinguished in letters and journalism, passed unnoticed in 1877, but Delane, the third and most widely renowned of the three great editors who died in the last half of this decade, was fitly eulogized in 1879 by one who was not the only writer who had served on the staff of both _Punch_ and _The Times_:-- Rest in thy grave, that knew no resting here, Editor without equal, strenuous soul, Staunch friend, despising favour, scorning fear, Far-seeing, forward, cleaving to thy goal.