Your aid let me ask in a difficult task, _Mr. Punch_, with the greatest
submission;
To win for my name a well-merited fame was always my ardent ambition,
And clearly to-day the least difficult way is to send an appeal to the
papers,
To form an intrigue for creating a league against fashion-designers and
drapers.
Thereby shall I reap an advertisement cheap, and writers, with much
perseverance,
Will furnish as news their apocryphal views on my appetite, age, and
appearance;
They all will revere my conviction sincere, and loudly re-echo my
praises,
But the thing which, as yet, I'm unable to get, is a novel departure in
crazes
The idea shall we float that a swallow-tail coat is only adapted for
Vandals?
Write pamphlets, designed to enlighten mankind on the duty of taking to
sandals?
Would a hatred of hats, or crusade on cravats, secure us a sympathy
louder?
Or shall we assert it is time to revert to patches, knee-breeches, and
powder?
Meanwhile, your applause we invite for our Cause--you notice the capital
letter--
Subscriptions and fees you may send when you please to the writer, the
sooner the better.
But as to the theme of this notable scheme, I wait for a timely
suggestion;
Its worth's beyond doubt, but what it's about remains, for the present, a
question!
* * * * *
The Bishop of CHESTER trembles. He is marked with the brand of "CAINE"!
* * * * *
[Illustration: "A STIFF JOB."
W. E. G. (_to himself_). "SHALL HAVE TO KEEP HIM _UP TO THE COLLAR_!"
(_Aloud._) "GEE UP!!"]
* * * * *