Dear MR. PUNCH,--I crave the hospitality of your columns under the
following circumstances. The other night I went to a burlesque. Being
a man of modest means, I contented myself with paying half-a-crown,
for which sum I was able not only to sit with the plebs in the pit,
but to see Society in the stalls.
Will it be believed, at the end of this so-called nineteenth century,
that songs were sung and things were said which made those everywhere
around me _laugh?_ Sadder still, two-thirds of those I saw were
women!--women, who are our mothers and sisters, when they are not our
wives and sweethearts!
I haven't the least notion where the harm in all this comes in, but
I'm confident there's some somewhere. In any event it's a serious sign
of the times; which reminds me that I should have sent this to the
_Times_, if I had not thought the recent Society-play correspondence
sufficient for one season. I'm so afraid the dear old _Thunderer_ will
drop the telegraphic news and take to _Telegraphic_ Correspondence.