Punch: Punch (103.1892)

October 1, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. U7

"HOW IT'S DONE!"

{Hard on SJcetchley, who ivas there at the time and in the thick oj it, and has just had his Picture photographed.)
" Oh ! Mr. Sketchley, how clever of you to Paint such a Large Picture from such a Small Photograph ! "

JAYS OF MODERN HOME.

No. V.—MY BUTTONS !

It wasn't that lie blacked the plate
And rouged the boots, and breathed, half-
choking,

Half-snorting, when he leaned to wait;
Although these habits are provoking.

It wasn't that he sang his fill,
Although his mouth with food was giving ;

This latter, as a feat of skill,
Might have procured the lad a living.

It wasn't that he'd purchase hosts
Of squibs and sweets to mess the pantry ;

That horrid boy, and broomstick-ghosts
On timid Jane would oft, and Ann try.

These petty peccadilloes might

Have all improved with careful training.—
It was his shameless appetite

That gave us cause for most complaining.

He swilled and stuffed as never mere

Adult voracity can own to ;
He was a " growing boy," I fear;

I wonder much what he has grown to !

He wore away our forks a:ad spoons
"With hard, incessant gormandizing ;

The Baker's, and, for some blue moons,
The Milkman's bill were quite surprising.

He cost us more in Butcher's meat
And Grocer's tea, and things from Cutlers,

He cost, I solemnly repeat,
Far more than two or three big Butlers.

And thus his fat increased until't
Became a show that sight bewilders;

We trembled for our mansion built,
You see, by noted Jerry-builders.

At length (you '11 scarce the fact believe)
One evening, as we sat at dinner,

And strove our senses to deceive
By just imagining him thinner;

We heard a crack, a burst, a groan,
We felt a broadside round us battered,

We saw his buttons fiercely blown
About our heads, and piecemeal scat-
tered !

The suit had split; the boy was bare
Of clothes designed to last for ages ;

We gave him notice then and there—
This volume, so to speak, of pages!

Song to be sung in Hayharket Orchestra,
during Overture.—" Oh, wby should we
wait till to-morrow ? See Queen of Manoa
to-night!"