neffable mock-seriousness of mien.

Another cartoon that attracted general attention for its exquisite
fooling, and that still haunts the mind of those who can appreciate a
completely happy adaptation of text to subject and situation, is "The
Political 'Mrs. Gummidge'" (May, 1885). Mr. Gladstone, as Mrs. Gummidge,
sits in the Peggotty boathouse by the fire, on which a pot of Russian
stew is simmering, while her knitting, marked "Egypt," has fallen from
her weary hands, and, the very picture of misery, moans out: "I ain't
what I could wish to be. My troubles make me contrairy. I feel my
troubles, and they make me contrairy. I make the House uncomfortable. I
don't wonder at it!!!" To which Mr. John Peggotty-Bull, pointing with
his pipe-stem at the portrait of Beaconsfield on the wall, mutters
(deeply sympathising, aside), "She's been thinking of the old 'un!" It
was proposed by Mr. Burnand.

But Sir John Tenniel's greatest success of all in recent
years--artistically and popularly successful--is undoubtedly the great
picture illustrative of Prince Bismarck's resignation in 1889, entitled
"Dropping the Pilot." The subject, it may be stated, was not a
suggestion made at the Table, but it was handed in from the late
Gilbert Arthur a Beckett, who was too ill to attend the Dinner--(he died
very soon after)--and who thus, as so many other _Punch_ contributors
have done--Thomas Hood, Artemus Ward, Leech, Gilbert Abbott a Beckett,
Charles Bennett, and others--sent in one of the most valuable of all his
suggestions just as his career was drawing to its close. The idea was
immediately accepted, and its excellence fully appreciated. It was
decided that it should occupy a double-page; and Sir John Tenniel, who
has always risen to a great occasion, did the fullest justice to the
subject. When the paper was sent round to the Staff, as it always is, on
the Monday night, they foresaw with delight that here was a great
_coup_, and their conviction received ample confirmation on the
publishing-day from the country at large. There was a world of pathos in
the weather-beaten old mariner who goes thoughtfully, full of doubt and
care, down the side of the ship he had originally designed and had since
piloted so long and so well--now discharged as no longer wanted; and
there was a world of meaning in the ambitious and self-reliant young
Commander who looks over the ship's bulwark and gazes at the bent figure
of his departing counsellor. The ca