PUNCH,

Or the London charivari.

Vol. 99.

August 2, 1890.

[Illustration:  A “Scene” In the Highlands.

Ill-used Husband (under the Bed).  “Aye!  Ye may crack me, and ye may Thrash me, but ye canna break my Manly SPERRIT.  I’ll Na come OOT!!”]

* * * * *

Punch to the second battalion.

    “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”—­Juvenal.

  You’re off, boys, to Bermuda
    (Like “the Bermoothes,” “vexed"). 
  The Guards rebel? Proh pudor!
    What next—­and next—­and next? 
  Who’ll guard the Guards, if they guard not
   The fame they should revere? 
  Fie on the row, row, row, row,
    Of the British Grenadier!

  Your Punch is sorry for you,
    And for these lads “in quod;”
  But Discipline’s a parent
    That must not spare the rod. 
  May you right soon redeem your name,
    And no more may Punch hear
  Of the row, row, row, row, row, row,
    Of the British Grenadier!

  If you have been o’er-worried
    By ultra-Martinet;
  Into unwisdom hurried,
    Be sure Bull won’t forget. 
  But England’s Redcoats must not ape
    The Hyde Park howl, that’s clear;
  So no more row, row, row, row,
    From the British Grenadier!

* * * * *

Robert’s American acquaintance.

My akwaintance among eminent selebraties seems to be rapidly encreasing.  Within what Amlet calls a week, a little week, after my larst intervue with the emenent young Swell as amost lost his art to the pretty Bridesmade, I have been onored with the most cordial notice of a werry emenent Amerrycane, who cums to Lundon wunce ewery year, and makes a good long stay, and allus cums to one or other of our Grand Otels.  He says he’s taken quite a fansy to me, and for this most singler reason.  He says as I’m the ony Englishman as he has ewer known who can allus giv a answer rite off to ewery question as he arsks me!  So much so, that he says as how as I ort to be apinted the Guide, Feelosofer, and Frend of ewery one of the many Wisiters as we allus has a staying here!

Well, all I can say is, that if I affords the heminent Amerrycane jest about harf the fun and emusement as he does me, I must be a much cleverer feller than I ewer thort myself, or than my better harf ewer told me as I was.  Ah, wouldn’t he jest make her stare a bit if she herd sum of his most owdacious sayings.  Why, he acshally says, that the hole system of marrying for life is all a mistake, and not