Various

“ The flame burns on with an unquenchable ardour. Beautiful beings, the Punch of your affections is true to you all. He takes you in a lump and loves you. He takes you singly and adores you, passionately but paternally. Here, therefore, is the letter:—
DEAREST MR. PUNCH,
We have all been so delighted to read your articles about shooting. ”

“ The word “lunch” is short, crisp, and appetising. The word “luncheon” is of a certain pomposity, which, though it may suit the mansions of the great, is out of place when applied to the meals of active sportsmen. So we will continue, if you please, to speak of “lunch.” And now for your question. My charming ROSE, this little treatise does not profess to do anything more than teach young sportsmen how to converse. I assume that they have learnt shooting from other instructors. ”

“ Do you think girls ought to go out and join the men at lunch? We all think it so delightful, but FRED, my eldest brother, makes himself extremely disagreeable about it—at least he did till last week, when EMILY RAYBURN, who is my very dearest friend, was staying with us. Then he told me we might come for a change, but we were to go home again directly afterwards. Generally he says that women are a bore out shooting. Please tell us, dear Mr. Punch, what you really think about it. ”

“ The public, which rarely cares much for poetry, was struck by Cebren and Paris. “There is in it,” said the Parthenon, “an original music, and a chord is struck, reverberating from the prehistoric years, which will find an answer in the heart of every father of a family.” The Clergy at large quoted Cebren and Paris in their charges and sermons, and the work was a favourite prize at seminaries for young ladies. Consequently all the other poets, whom nobody buys, arose, and blasphemed Cebren and Paris in all the innumerable reviews. ”

“ Everybody good. Quite the best night of the Season. To-night BAUERMEISTER appears as Sacerdotessa. So this week she has been Cupid, an old Peasant woman, Frascita, a Brigand’s Young Woman; and then, being repentant, she finishes as a Priestess! It’s a whole life-time in a few days. ”

“ Another Sportsman (bringing up the rear with a companion) . Hope we shan’t be long over lunch. There’s a lot of ground to cover this afternoon, and old SYKES tells me they’ve got a splendid head of birds this year, I always think— (He breaks off suddenly; an expression of intense alarm comes over his face.) Why, what’s that? No, it can’t be. Yes, by Jingo, it is. It’s the whole blessed lot of women come out to lunch, my wife and all. ”

“ Nowadays we must not let you run up costs until we have explained to you in writing what you are about. And as all you say will come out of your own pocket, and not out of the estate, it is only fair to warn you. ”

“ To call you a bore is absurd. But men are such brutes, and it is as certain as that two and two (even at our public schools) make four, that ladies are—what shall I say?—not so popular as they always ought to be when they come amongst shooters engaged in their sport. ”

“ But, in order that the purpose of this work may be fulfilled, and the conversational method inculcated, I here give a short “Ladies-at-lunch-dialogue,” phonographically recorded, as a party of five guns was approaching the place of lunch, at about 1:30 P.M.
First Sportsman (addressing his companion) . Now then, TOMMY, my son, just smarten yourself up a bit, and look pretty. The ladies are coming to lunch.
Tommy (horror—struck.) What? The women coming to lunch? No, hang it all, you’re joking. Say you are—do!
First Sp. Joking? Not I! I tell you six solid women are going to lunch with us. ”

“ The youthful male population of England determined never to become Poets, unless they were born Poets, a resolution on which, at all times, a minority of the race had acted, with the best results.
Mr. J.L. “Walker” Toole and “Full Company.”
“NOTES AND PAPER.”—There is a lot of “paper” about from “Walker—London.” No, Mr. JOHNNIE TOOLE, Sir, not your “paper,” for your House is crammed and your “paper” is at a premium. ”

“ Miss D. (sweetly) . Not’ in the very least. Are you sure you’ve quite finished playing?
Mr. C. As I’ve lost all I’d won and a lot on the top of that, I should rather think I had finished playing.
Miss D. So has the Orchestra—quite a coincidence, isn’t it? You were so absorbed, you see!—No, I won’t keep you out here, thanks; my sister will take care of me.
Mr. C. (to himself, as he departs rather sheepishly) . I’ve offended that girl—I could see she was wild at missing that Barn Dance. I wish I had danced it, I’m sure,—it would have saved me several francs. It was all her own fault. ”

“ I say, I scooped in thirty-five francs over that! Not bad, is it? I’m glad I waited!
Miss D. Yes, it’s better fun than dancing, isn’t it?
Mr. C. Oh, lots—at least I didn’t mean that quite—
Miss D. Didn’t you? I did. What are you going to back next?
Mr. C. Well, I must just have one more turn, and then we’ll go and get that dance over. I’m going to plunge this time. (He spreads his counters about the board.) There, I’ve put five francs on each colour and ten each on 8 and 9. You see, by hedging like that, you’re bound to pull off something! ”

“ I think— (Gives her views at great length upon the Opera, past, present and future. At the end of her remarks—) But how I do run on! I am afraid I am taking up your time.
Sol. Not at all. I have nothing particular to do, and our interview comes out of the estate. Now are you sure we can do nothing for you this morning? ”

“ How unfortunate for you. 5 generally does win twice running, somehow.
Mr. C. (with reproach) . If you had thought of that a little sooner, I shouldn’t have lost twenty francs! (A player rises, and Mr. C. secures the vacant chair.) More comfortable sitting down. I must get that back before I go. I’ve got about twenty francs left, I’ll put five on yellow, and ten on 9. (He does. Croupier. “Deux, pair, et rouge!”) ”

“ I’ve a sweet vistle of my own the birds find most attractive.
My nets may be unauthorised, and my decoys not his’n;
Vot odds, ven those decoys vill draw, those nets the birds imprison?
“VILLIAM’s a old Monopolist, or vould be if I’d let him;
But on this here pertikler field I’ll lick him, that I’ll bet him.
I am a cove as hates the Nobs; I dearly loves my neighbour;
And if I have a feeling heart it is for Honest Labour!
“VILLIAM’s decoys are out of date but ven I’d shake and rummage’em
He gets his back up like a shot. He’s jealous of Young Brummagem! ”

“ Thanks, ever so much, you dear little beasts!
[pg 218]
THE BRUMMAGEM BIRDCATCHER.
(A Lay of a Labour Programme.) AIR—“The Ratcatcher’s Daughter.”
Brummagem Birdcatcher (aside) . “AH! I FANCY I SHALL HAVE THEM PRESENTLY!” ”