Punch (89.1885)

! October 24, 1885.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

203

Everyone's favourite next, " dear old Frith," with, his sketch-book.
He should know,

And does, Railway Stations as well as—say Bettws-y-Coed or
Llandudno.

Last, in order, but least by no means in the Public's affection and
Punch's,

The owner of medals in heaps, and the wearer of laurels in bunches,
Our gallant-souled General Roberts. The rest is a " regular moodle."
"No Porters! " the usual cry. The poor Frenchman, wife, daughter,
and poodle,

Are frantic. A Pelion on Ossa of luggage, and no one to take it!
The tidal train just on the start! If Sir E. has a heart, this should
break it.

For thus, luggage-cumbered and late, must the traveller oft be a
tarrier,

Unless, like yon Bobby-chased youth, he dares make a bold dash o'er
the barrier.

Look to it, Olympian Watkin, and earn the sincere commendation
Of all who, Big Pots or Mere Nobodies, flock to the Charing Cross
Station!

Prehistoric Man.—At the request of the Lieutenant-Governor, a
report has been drawn up by Professor Boyd Dawkins, F.R.S., on the
Antiquities of the Isle of Man. They include Runic crosses, early
tombs, habitations, camps, and places of assembly. Tools and
weapons of flint, with other relics of the Stone Ages, and various
implements, likewise, of the Bronze Age, should also be numbered
among the monuments of Prehistoric Man discovered by Professor
Dawkins. Of course the learned Professor has pursued his researches
amongst the Manx remains in the spirit of a philosopher, impressed
with the conviction that " the proper study of Mankind is Man."

THE EETURN" OF THE TOUEIST.

Con. poe the Land Reformers.—Can a young fellow, embracing
his sweetheart, be excused on the ground that he is studying "the
enclosure of waist spaces " ?

Back to Town,

And, egad!
I am brown,

And I'm glad.
Here's the play,

And my " rub,"
Every day.

At the Club.
I don't miss
The hotels,
And the Swiss,

And the smells.
E'en the views,

Yery nice,
I'd refuse,

At the price.
Now I shan't

Hang my hat
Where you can't

Swing a cat.
Though I ne'er,

Entre nous,
Did that there,
Nor did you.
I have been

Everywhere,
And have seen

All things fair.
Seen the Alps
Rising high,
With bare scalps,
To the sky. ,

A Lilliputian Lyric.

Seen Berlin,—

Rather slow,—
Unter Lin-

-den, you know.
Seen folks dine,

Germans swill,
Blanked the wine,

Paid my bill.
Left the Spree,

Went to France,
Tried Paree—

Just a glance.
Yenice, too,

Overpraised,
Nothing new,

Rctskik's crazed.
Constanti-

-nople shirk,
Tourists fly

From the Turk.
Then Jeru-

-salem see,—
What a few

Jews there be!
Rome ? Why, it,
From the talk,
Seems a bit

Of New York.
When in Spain,

You are bid
Take the train
From Madrid.

For j ust there,
Well-a-day!
News will scare

Folks away.
Thus I've spent

All my tin,
And the rent

Will come in.
Welcome still

Quarter-Day,
With a will
I can say.
For I'm back,
And I joke
At the black

London smoke.
After all,

When you roam,
All things pall,
Saving home.
A cigar,

My own wine,
Better far

Than the Rhine.
And I swear,

No strange land
Can compare

With. the. Strand.
As I pace

Up and down,
You 're the place,
London Town!

DESIRABLE !"

Saxon Passenger (on Highland Coach). "Of course yotj 'be well acquainted with the Country round about here,
know ' Glen Accron ' 1"

Driver. "Ate, weel." Saxon Passenger [who had just bought the Estate). "What sort or a Place is it?"

Driver. " Weel, if ye saw the Deil tetheeed on't, ye'd just say ' Puir Brute' !"

Do you