_Cabby._ "_Queen_ Hanne's Mansions, I suppose you mean, miss?"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "Penny 'addick."
"Finen?"
"No; thick 'un!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _First Frenchman._ "Ah, mon cher ami!"
_Second Frenchman._ "Ah, c'est mon cher Alphonse!"
_British Workman._ "Bloomin' Germans!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Clerk of Booking-Office._ "There is _no_ first class by
this train, sir." _'Arry._ "Then wot are we going ter do, Bill?"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "Fader's gettin' better. 'E's beginnin' ter swear
again!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Vendor of Pirated Songs._ "Er y'are, lidy! ''Oly City',
'Bu'ful Star,' 'Hi cawn't think why Hi lubs yer, but Hi do!'"]
* * * * *
'ARRY ON HIS 'OLIDAY
_Being an epistle from that notorious and ubiquitous person, luxuriating
for the time in rural parts, to his chum Charlie, confined in town._
Wha' cheer, my dear Charlie? 'Ow are yer? I promised I'd drop yer
a line.
I'm out on the trot for a fortnit; and ain't it golumpshusly fine?
Bin dooing the swell pretty proper, I beg to assure yer, old man.
Jest go it tip-top while you're at it, and blow the expense, is
_my_ plan.
Bin took for a nob, and no error this time; which my tailor's A 1.
The cut of these bags, sir, beats Poole _out of_ fits. (Are yer fly
to the pun?)
And this gridiron pattern in treacle and mustard is something uneek,
As the girls--but there, Charlie, _you_ know me, and so there's no
call for to speak.
My merstach is a coming on proper--that fetches 'em, Charlie, my boy;
Though one on 'em called me young spiky, which doubtless was meant
to annoy.
But, bless yer! 'twas only a touch of the green-eyed, 'acos I looked
sweet
On a tidy young parcel in pink as 'ung out in the very same street.
O Charlie, such larks as I'm 'aving. To toddle about on the sands,
And watch the blue beauties a-bathing, and spot the sick muffs as
they lands,
Awful flabby and white in the gills, and with hoptics so sheepishly
sad,
And twig 'em go green as we chaff 'em; I tell yer it isn't half bad.
Then, s'rimps! Wy, I pooty near lives on 'em; got arf a pocketful
here,
There's a flavour of bird's-eye about 'em; but that's soon took off
by the beer.
The "bitter" round here is jest lummy, and as for their soda-and-b.,
It's ekal to "fizz" and no error, and suits this small child to a t.
The weeds as I've blown is a caution;--I'm nuts on a tuppenny smoke.
Don't care for the baths, but there's sailing, and rollicking rides
on a moke.
I've sung comic songs on the cliffs after dark, and wot's fun if
that ain't?
And I've chiselled my name in a church on the cheek of a rummy stone
saint.
So, Charlie, I think you will see, I've been doing the tourist
to rights.
Good grub and prime larks in the daytime, and billiards and bitter
at nights;
That's wot _I_ calls 'oliday-making, my pippin. I wish _you_ was here,
Jest wouldn't we go it extensive! But now I am off for the pier.
To ogle the girls. 'Ow they likes it! though some of their dragons
looks blue.
But lor'! if a chap _has_ a way with the sex, what the doose can
he do?
The toffs may look thunder and tommy on me and my spicey rig out,
But they don't stare yours faithfully down, an' it's all nasty envy,
no doubt.
Ta! ta! There's a boat coming in, and the sea has been roughish
all day;
All our fellows will be on the watch, and _I_ mustn't be out of
the way.
Carn't yer manige to run down on Sunday? I tell yer it's larks,
and no kid!
Yours bloomingly,
'ARRY.
P.S.--I have parted with close on four quid!
* * * * *
POISON IN THE BOWL.--_Hot weather._--Advice by our own Cockney. Don't
put ice in your champagne. It's pison. How do I know this? Because it
comes from Venom Lake.
* * * * *
SEASONABLE.--_'Arry's friend._ What's the proper dinner for Ash
Wednesday?
_'Arry._ Why, 'ash mutton, o' course.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SELF-RESPECT.
_The Missus._ "Oh, Jem, you said you'd give me your photergrarf. Now,
let's go in, and get it done."
_Jem._ "Oh, I dessay! an' 'ave my 'Carte de Wisete' stuck up in the
winder along o' all these 'ere bally-gals an' 'igh-church parsons! No,
Sairey!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE TRIALS OF OUR ARTISTIC FRIEND, LEONARDO DA TOMPKINS
(_Who lives in an unappreciative Suburb_)
_'Arriet (nudging her lidy friend, and in an ostentatious
stage-whisper)._ "'Amlet!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Tenor (singing)._ "Oh, 'appy, 'appy, 'appy be thy
dreams----"
_Professor._ "Stop, stop! Why don't you sound the H?"
_Tenor._ "It don't go no 'igher than G!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _First Newspaper Boy._ "Hullo, Bill! Who's 'e?"
_Second Newspaper Boy._ "I suppose 'e's the North Pole as 'as just been
discovered!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Gorgeous-looking Individual._ "Most 'strordinary
weather, ain't it? First it's 'ot, then it's cold. Blow me, if one knows
'ow to dress!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "I say, Bill, wot 's a Prodigal?"
"Why, a Prodigal's a sort o' cove as keeps on coming back!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: NOT WHAT SHE EXPECTED