Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, September 12, 1891 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 42 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, September 12, 1891.

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, September 12, 1891 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 42 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, September 12, 1891.

* * * * *

HYGEIA OFF THE SCENT.—­It is stated that even the charms of a champagne luncheon failed to attract more than one out of twenty-four members of the Hygienic Congress invited to test the merits of sewage-farms by ocular—­or should we say nasal?—­demonstration.  Perhaps the missing three-and-twenty thought that in this case, at least, Mrs. MALAPROP would be both correct and pertinent in saying that “Comparisons are odorous!”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH.”

INSPECTOR.  “NOW SWEAR!  ALL TOGETHER!” CONSTABLES.  “WE SWEAR!!”

MR. PUNCH (aside).  “DEAR ME, SIR EDWARD; WHEN THEY DO AGREE, THEIR
UNANIMITY IS WONDERFUL!.”—­“The Critic,” freely adapted.]

* * * * *

ROBERT’S ROMANCE.

I have been so bothered for coppys of my Romanse, as I read at the Cook’s Swarry some time back, that I have detummined to publish it, and here it is.  In coarse, all rites is reserved.

ROBERT.

[Illustration]

THE MYSTERY OF MAY FARE.

(BY ONE BEHIND THE SEENS.)

CHAPTER I.—­DESPARE!

It was Midnite!  The bewtifool Countess of BELGRAVIER sat at the hopen winder of her Boodwar gazing on the full moon witch was jest a rising up above the hopposite chimbleys.  Why was that evenly face, that princes had loved and Poets sillybrated, bathed in tears?  How offen had she, wile setting at that hopen winder, washed it with Oder Colone, to remove the stanes of them tell tail tears?  But all in wane, they wood keep running down that bewtifool face as if enamelled with its buty; and quite heedless of how they was a spiling of her new ivory cullered sattin dress that Maddam ELISE’s yung ladies had been a workin on up to five a clock that werry arternoon.

She had bin to the great ball of the Season, to be washupped as usual by the world of Fashun, but wot had driven her home at the hunerthly hour of harf-parst Eleven?  Ah, that cruel blo, that deadly pang, that despairin shok, must be kep for the nex chapter.

CHAPTER II.—­THE HELOPEMEANT!

Seated in the House-keeper’s own Room at the Dook of SURREY’s lovely Manshun, playfoolly patting his fatted calves, and surrounded by his admiring cirkle, sat CHARLES, the ero of my Tale.  CHARLES was the idle of that large establishment.  They simply adored him.  It was not only his manly bewty, tho that mite have made many an Apoller envy him.  It was not only his nolledge of the world, tho in that he was sooperior to menny a Mimber of Parlyment from the Sister Oil, but it was his stile, his grace, his orty demeaner.  The House-keeper paid him marked attenshuns.  The Ladies Maid supplyed him with Sent for his ankerchers.  The other Footmen

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, September 12, 1891 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.