For a really humorous drawing commend me to the picture in the _Daily
Graphic_ of Saturday, September 9, representing "the civic procession
to the luncheon given to Lord and Lady ABERDEEN by the Lord Mayor of
Liverpool." The stately party is preceded by a Piper--of course, it
is his worship the Mayor and common councillors who pay the piper
and call the tune on this occasion--who is stepping out jauntily.
But notice his glance; notice the Mayor's expression as he tries to
prevent himself laughing, and hides one eye with the sword of State;
notice Lord and Lady ABERDEEN, the latter looking a trifle annoyed,
while his Lordship is struggling with painfully suppressed merriment.
What is it that has nearly upset their gravity and spoilt the
procession? The explanation is at hand. On the left of the picture
in the foreground stands, _en evidence_ it is true, but with a
reverential air as of one who knows his place in society and keeps it,
our old friend and contributor, _Robert the Waiter_!! It must be he.
It is the very man, unless he has a Scotch double, or unless he was
born a twin, and the other ROBERT was a Scotchman. There he is. Get
the paper and see.
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NOAH'S ARK MASONRY.--For the first time _Mr. Punch_, G.A.U.W.G.M., and
Past Grand Everybody, met with mention of the "Royal Ark Mariners."
Do they belong to an offshoot, or rather an Olive Branch, of
Free-Masonry? "There are 3980 of them," says the _Daily Telegraph_.
Where do they meet? In an Ark? Do they enter in pairs? Of course,
NOAH himself was a Mason, seeing that aboard his own vessel _he_ was
Sailing Master of the Craft.
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[Illustration: "OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY!"]
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