Punch (95.1888)

I« PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [September 29, 1888.

"TELL-TALE TIT!"

{Middle o' September I)
Bagnidge (luiving made sure with both barrels). " Another Bee-"

The Keeper (aghast). "Bird !—not a bit of it ! 'Don't know what Master'll say when I tell him ! Wh', you've shot
a Pheasant!"

I like to think that I can go into the Galleiw,

And chuck an apple at his head,—which he can't do to me.

Chorus—-This Clown of High Society, all of the modern time.

To call himself " a clown," I think, is hard—on Harry Payne,
Who always comes at Christmas Time with " Here we are again! "
"Who '11 soon bring out his memoirs of tip-top Societee,
"Where he never had the pleasure of encountering G. G.

Chorus—This Clown of High Society, all of the modern time.

If you're going a long journey by train, buy The Society Clown.
The time will pass so quickly with this book in your hands, that
the station where you ought to have got out will_ have escaped your
notice, and you '11 wake up at the terminus with the prospect of
having the book still to amuse you on the return journey,

From gay to grave, I am still going quietly, very quietly, through
Mr. Hawkins's most carefully compiled and entertainingly written
two Volumes, entitled, The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century.
He has stated the case of the disabilities of the French Comedians,
on the whole, very fairly, considering that he candidly avows him-
self a warm partisan, whose bias has prevented him from admitting
that the other side has any case at all. His book, as far as I am able
to judge from the first volume, ought to be a standard work of
reference for students of the French stage in the Eighteenth Century.

Several Correspondents write to me, asking, where can we procure
those Weird Tales which you have twice recommended? "Well, un-
fortunately, there was a rush upon them by friends who promised
faithfully to return them; but instead of keeping their word, they've
kept my books. In the meantime I can only say that they are pocket
volumes, adapted to anybody's pocket,—evidently, by the disappear-
ance of my little lot,—consisting of a collection of very old ghost
stories, English, Scotch, American,_ Irish, familiar, it may be, to
most readers over fifty, but refreshing even to them, and accepted
with delight by the second and third generation. I am fond of old
friends, and was delighted to welcome them again. Some of them,
however, I had never read before. They are published by Pateeson,
Edinburgh, and are so portable that I wish they weren't, as I shall
never see taem more.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

A most amusing and companionable little book is Mr. Geobge

G-eossmith's
Society Clown.
The "Snobbish
Chapter" is, in
idea, at least,
quite Thacke-
rayan. "Oh Ch"
thoroughly en-
joys a story
that tells
against him-
self. The love-
letter from the
lady who had
"a Sunday
out," is deli-
cious. What
became of this
poor Columbine
our gay Clown
doesn't tell us.
Inspired to

JUMMV 'A ^ r 0 p int°

^™IIWI 3 poetry,—to the

the Clown m Society. ajr 0f "The

Fine Old English Gentleman " — I joyously sing,—

I like to read George Grossmith's tales of everywhere he goes,
Of 1 nnces LHikes, and Duchesses, and all the swells he knows.
I revel m the thought that I can see him on the stage,
And sit m front without a smile, and put him in a rage.

Chorus— Phis Clown of High Society, all of the modern time.
I like to read the in-vi-ta-tion sent him by the Prince,
To dine with H.E.H. abroad,—but has he had one since >