N.B.--Rather think I am going to call on Queen ZAMBILI this afternoon.
Ahem! Do you remember the ballads of "_My heart is true to Poll_,"
and "_The King of the Owyhees_"? Again, ahem! "Black Queen to mate in
three moves." Of course, can't go in for this sort of thing myself,
but by deputy, eh? Representative Government and King PROXY THE FIRST,
with myself for Prime Minister. How's that Empire?
[Illustration: "Grandolph, the Explorer."]
* * * * *
FROM OUR OWN BEN TROVATO.--Said an artistic collector to Mr. PARNELL,
"Now I'll show you a beautiful specimen of CARLO DOLCI." "I wish you
could have shown it me some days ago," replied the Ex-misleader of the
Irish Party, "when I was presented with a specimen of _Carlow_ without
the _Dolci_."
* * * * *
COOK'S TOURIST PRIZE JUBILEE JOKE.--_Mem. for Travellers contemplating
a first visit to the Continent_.--Being raw to the business, get
Cook'd. Depend upon it, you won't be "done."
* * * * *
"THE HUNDRED BEST BOOKS."--_Punch's_ Half-Yearly Volumes from the
commencement, i.e., July 17, 1841, to June 27, 1891.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.
_Fair Visitor_ (_to Hostess_). "WHAT A DELIGHTFUL CONCERT YOU GAVE
US LAST WEDNESDAY, DEAR MRS. JONES! SUCH LOVELY MUSIC!--SUCH SMART
PEOPLE! EVERYBODY ONE KNOWS, YOU KNOW!"
[_Mrs. Jones's Aunt Tabitha (from whom she has great expectations)
hears of this delightful Concert for the first time!_]]
* * * * *
"GOOD-BYE, GRANDMAMMA!"
(_A LONG WAY AFTER "CHILDE HAROLD_.")
Adieu, adieu. Old Albion's shore!
I leave, to bound the blue.
My Yacht lies yonder! 'Tis a bore,
But I _must_ part from you.
I sniff the brine, I love the sea;
Half Englishman am I.
Farewell to England, and to thee,
Dear Grandmamma--good-bye!
I leave your isle, the truth to tell,
With qualified regret.
July in London would be well,
But for the heavy wet.
The soaking shower, the sudden squall,
Spare not Imperial "tiles."
May it be dry when next I call,
Your slushiest of isles!
Yet I've enjoyed my visit, much,
In spite of wet and wind.
I with JOHN BULL have been in touch;
_You_ have been passing kind.
My father and grandfather gone
Once trod your city sad;
Now I the daring deed have done,
And--it is not half bad.
That Opera Show was quite a sight;
Your Sheriff HARRIS--well--
AUGUSTUS, after Actium's fight,
Was scarce a greater swell.
The long parade, led by the Blues,
Gave _me_ the blues again.
Not that the citizen were screws,
No, Grand'ma, 'twas that rain!
I--ahem! _blessed_ it fervently,
Emperors must not complain;
But do, _do_ keep your Babylon dry,
When I come back again.
For Garden Parties, Shows, Reviews,
And civic functions pale,
When water soaks the stoutest shoes,
And it blows half a gale.
Your Lord MAYOR and his liveried lot,
_They_ know a thing or two.
Speeches of course are always rot,
But then--the skies were blue!
As for your Crystal Palace--ah!
Your pride I would not shock,
But you owe much, dear Grandmamma,
To PAXTON and to BROCK.
Your warriors are fine, if few;
But still, if you ask _me_,
You leave far too much power to
A Railway Company.
I would not let civilians snub
My paladins--no fear!
But then a Teuton--there's the rub!
Is no mere Volunteer!
And now I really must be gone
Upon the wide, wide sea.
Stiff state no more shall make me groan,
Hurrah for liberty!
I'm tired to death of functions fine,
And ceremonial rot;
Hurrah for ease! the breezy brine
Tar-toggery, and my Yacht!
With yonder bark I'll gladly brave
The seas about your isle.
Thanks, Grand'ma, for that kerchief wave,
And that right royal smile!
Welcome, ye billows, tumbling brisk
Beneath a cloud-swept sky!
Give your white kerchief one more whisk,
Dear Grandmamma--Good-bye!
* * * * *