Volume 108 — A FINE SUMMER DAY'S OUTING.
Reading edition
Highly recommended by "The Faculty" (who has tried it more than once). Given a perfectly calm sea, a delicious light breeze, and anything else "given" that you can get, including pleasant company, then, with tears in your patriotic eyes, and a tremolo in your voice, bid farewell (for a couple of hours or so) to old England, cross the Channel, invade France viâ Calais, where, however calm the sea has been, you must be prepared for a "buffet"; but this "buffet" is not at all rough, just the contrary, and if by chance you should have at all suffered from any unevenness in the wave line, you are sure, on arriving at Calais, of a "restauration" which will send you back in another hour and a half quite the giant refreshed. That same evening you can pose as a real traveller just returned from "the Continent," which will serve you excellently both as reason and apology for not having answered any letters, and neglected epistolary business generally during the last month. "Been away, my boy!" "Ah, that's why you didn't answer my letter. Where have you been?" "Oh! France, about Normandy. Delightful. Ta! Ta!" And perhaps the expenditure of the day's trip will have saved you from all sorts of trouble, pecuniary and otherwise, that you might have got into had you remained at home, answering letters. But, as to the benefit of the sea air—there can't be two opinions about that.
A Distinguished Commoner who cannot Vote for doing away with "Lord's."—Dr. Grace. Public school elevens and M. C. C. all against such a proposition.
BOLD J. H. TAYLOR.
[J. H. Taylor, an Englishman born and bred, has for the second time won the Open Championship (Golf) at the St. Andrews' Links.]
Oh! young J. H. Taylor is a fine young fellow, At whom the Scotsmen may hardly scoff; For though he's Saxon by birth and breeding, He is champion now at the Game of Golf! On St. Andrews' Links when the rain was pouring, He smote the ball with a manly blow; And he distanced St. Andrews' Andrew—Kirkaldy— Though Taylor was trained in far Westward Ho! And he went the four rounds fair and featly, In strokes three hundred, and twenty, and two, Which Sandy Herd, and Andy Kirkaldy, And Davie Anderson, they could not do. It may seem sheer cheek for "a gowk of a Saxon" To take the cake at the Gaelic Game; But as imitation's the sincerest flattery, Let 'em take a licking in the light o' the same. So here's a health to bold J. H. Taylor, Lord of the Links, at the tee a toff; Who takes first place for the slighted Southron At the Ancient and Royal Game of Golf!
ANOTHER MISUNDERSTANDING.
'Arry (on a Northern Tour, with Cockney pronunciation). "Then I'll 'ave a Bottle of Aile."
Hostess of the Village Inn. "Ile, Sir? We've nane in the hoose, but Castor Ile or Paraffine. Wad ony o' them dae, Sir?"
"HOUSE OF REST FOR ACTORS."
Beneath the spreading Beerbohm Tree The Resting Actor stands, And grateful takes the £ s. d. From Active Actors' hands. No more he'll strut upon the stage Where he has done his best, Nothing he'll need, while active men Are doing all the rest.
Classical and Cockney.
Hal. It was a Greek play at Bradford College. 'Arry (to Tom). I told you it was a Greek fake. Tom (to 'Arry). How do you know? 'Arry (giving Hal as his authority). 'Cos it's' Al-sez-'tis.
The New Women.
They dress.... like men.
They talk......like men.
They live.......like men.
They don't.... like men.
Intelligence from (and at) Hamburg.—"Mr. G." was unable to go to the Zoo at feeding-time. He was conspicuous by his absence, as all the other lions were there.
New and Appropriate Name for the After-dinner Crumb-and-fragment Basket.—"The Morsel-eum."