Punch (91.1886)

266

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 4, 1886.

A HAPPY THOUGHT.

" Ullo, Count ! Why you 're writing a Love-Letter in English !"
"Yes. I write to ze sharmeeng Vidow, Mistress Vilkeensonne."
"But you 're copying it out op Frank Fairleigh.'"
"Ma foi, yes ! I always use myself of zis Book—not for ze Senti-
ments, vioh are not mine, but for ze construction?"

ROBERT'S CONFESSIONS.

A Lady in a werry high persition has dun me the
honner of asking me jest to fill up a page in her Book of
Confessions, and as praps sum other nice peeple, both in
high and low persitions, mite like to see 'em, as we most
on us likes to know summut about other peeple's affairs,
I apends 'em:—■

Your favorite virtue ?—Libberallity.

Your favorite qualities in man ?—Punkshuality and
oheerfullness.

Your favorite qualities in woman ?,— Pashenoe and
oreedulity.

Your favorite occupation ?—Riting.

Your chief characteristic P—Corectness in Spellin.

Your ideal of happiness ?—A reel grand Bankwet.

Your ideal of misery P—Cold Sholder of Mutton.

Your favorite color and flower ?—White. Collyflower.

If not yourself, who would you be ?—Head Waiter at
Winsor Carsell.

Where would you like to live ?—At the Grand Otel.

Your favorite prose authors ?—TuppEsandMrs. Glasse.

Your favorite poets.—Dr. Watts and Tom Hood.

Your favorite painters, and Composers P—Sine Painters.
Hot Whisky and Water, or B. and S.

Your favorite heroes in real life P—Lord Mares.

Your favorite heroines in real life ?—Lady Maresses.

Your favorite hero in fiction ?—Fryer_ Tuck.

Your favorite heroine in fiction ?—Sairy Gamp.

Your favorite food and drink ? — Turtel Soup and
Champane.

Your favorite names ?—Robert and Looweeseb.

Your pet aversion ?—A nagging female.

What characters in history do you. most dislike P—
Most all on 'em.

What is your present state of mind ?—Pretty eumferal.

Eor what fault have you most toleration ?—Extrava-
gance.

Your favorite motto ?—" May good Dergestion wait on
Happytight!" Robert.

Shakspeare at the A.D.C.

The A.D.C. Cantabs seem to have achieved a genuine
success with their Henry the Fourth (Shakspeare, J. w.
Clarke's edition), by returning to their old rule of inclu-
ding in the cast members of the Club who had'' gone down."
Some of these ancestral Shades from the Ha-des Sea ap-
peared, and did good service. ('1 Gave their Aid d'ye see ? "
saysMr.wagstaff.) The A.D.C, some thirty years ago,
used to admit Oxford Dramatic brethren to join their com-
pany and appear on their boards. Henry the Fourth is
a good choice, but, to put it logically and arithmetically,
if Henry 4 is good, Henry 8 must be double as good.
Ergo, next time play Henry the Eighth.

NURSERY RHYMES FOR PRESENT
TIMES.

For the Czar.

Kalnoky's oration is vexation,

Salisbury's is as bad ;
The League of Three doth puzzle me,

And Ratkoff drives me mad.

For Katkof.
Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum!
I smell the gold of an Englishman!
Be his name Cecil, or be his name White,
I can see through his intrigues quite.

A Song of a Sell.
Hickery, dickery, dare!
The Socialists met in the Square ;

Warren nabs one,

Away the rest run,
Hickery, dickery, dare!

Neglected Wails.
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy had a farm,
Taffy wouldn't pay his tithes, but kept 'em

in his palm;
His Vicar lowered Taffy's tithes, for the

sake of quiet,
Taffy had rejoicings, ending in a riot.

The Landlord sent his Agent, and doubled

Taffy's rent,
Taffy's now for Welsh Home-Rule, and
Disestablishment!

A Randolphian Lullaby.
There was a little man,
And he had a little plan
For depriving London of new Parks, Parks,
Parks ;
He left McGarel Hogg
In an intellectual fog,
And he thought all the while it was larks,
larks, larks!

OUT OF THE LOST LETTER-BAG.

Deab Mr. Punch,

Though your delightful Artists reflect
almost the whole of English life in a most
agreeable mirror, do you not think that they
overlook one pretty corner ? You will re-
member, Sir, that John Leech once drew
" The Children of the Mobility." I miss the
Children of the Mobility of to-day from your
Gallery; though the children of the comfort-
able classes—the garden flowers—are so pret-
tily sketched, the little wild flowers are neg-
lected. Yet one often sees beautiful children

in the dirtiest lanes, as happy as kings, and
in the most touching attitudes. Two or three
days since I passed an ugly hoarding in West-
minster, an ugly hoarding, with an ugly hole
in it. But these greasy boards were the frame
of a pensive little lass in blue, who was sitting
perched there, looking out on the road, like
an unconscious child Mariana. The waste
ground behind her was her enchanted castle,
and she watched the wayfarers with an acci-
dental grace, as if she did not see them !
Then one has seen a tiny nurse of six years
make herself a ladder for her fosterling of
four to climb on, and so reach the giddy
height of the knocker on the door. How
touching is their gaiety when the little girls
dance to the music of the hurdy-gurdy, as
gracefully, I am sure, as any contadini iu the
native land of the artist with the monkey and
the musical instrument. We don't want fewer
of your pretty drawing-room or nursery
wits, Mr. Punch, but are not the little
humorists of the courts and lanes also pleasant
models for the pencils of your Artists ?
Yours obediently, A Great Uncle.

"Uncommonly Hansom."—The Cabmen's
testimonial to Sir Edmund Henderson.