LUNCH (_continued_).—How delightful it is to awaken interest in the
female breast, to make the heart of lovely woman go pit-pat, as her
eyes read the words one’s pen has written. Even in drawing-rooms and
boudoirs, it seems, bright eyes have marked these attempts to teach
a correct conversational manner to those who engage in game-shooting.
Here is one letter of the hundreds that _Mr. Punch_ has one by one
pressed to his gallant lips with an emotion that might, perhaps, not
have been expected from one of his years and discretion. But how shall
time or caution prevail against universal love? 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:—