The hart's in the Highlands,
Of that there's no fear,
And 'tis there you may buy lands
For stalking the deer:
But the hills are no trifle,
And they're windy and cold,
So your wish you'd best stifle,
Or buy, and be--sold.
* * * * *
[Illustration: GOOD NEWS
_'Arry._ "T'aint no good miking a fuss about it, yer know, guv'nor! Me
and my pals must 'ave our 'd'y out'!"
_Foreign Fellow-traveller._ "Aha! Die out! You go to die out? Mon Dieu!
I am vairy glad to 'ear it. It is time!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: FORCE OF HABIT; OR, CITY SUSPICIONS
_'Arry (who is foraging for his camping party)._ "Look here, my good
woman, are these cabbages fresh?"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Little Dobbs._ "Hullo! what's that? Looks like a mowing
machine."
_Hairdresser (who does not appreciate "chaff")._ "No, sir, 'tain't a
mowin' machine. It's meant to give gentlemen fresh _h_air."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: BITING SARCASM
_Gentleman with the Broom (who has inadvertently splashed the artist's
favourite shipwreck)._ "Ow yus! I suppose yer think ye're the president
o' the Roy'l Acadermy! A settin' there in the lap er luxury!!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: FOREIGN COMPETITION
_British Habitual Criminal._ "Well, if these 'ere furrin aliens is
a-goin' ter take the bread out of a honest man's mouth--blimey if I
don't turn copper!"]
* * * * *
VERY APPROPRIATE.--Says 'Arry, "Regular good place for a medical man to
live in is 'Ill Street, Berkeley Square. But why don't he cure it and
make it Quite Well Street?"
* * * * *