Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, August 15, 1891
Alas! it had of course to be!
For weeks I had not left my room,
When one fell day there came on me
An awful doom.
A burly rough, who drank and swore,
Without a word—I could not shout—
Attacked me brutally, and tore
My nails right out.
Then, dragging me out to the air—
No well-conducted conscience pricked him—
He mercilessly beat me there,
Various
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Vol. 101.
August 15, 1891.
A TERRIBLE TALE.
LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.
"SEMPER EADEM."
"WON'T WORK!"
TO LORD TENNYSON.
VICISSITUDES OF A RISING PERIODICAL.
THE SONG THAT BROKE MY HEART.
'ARRY ON A 'OUSE-BOAT.
HOW TO SPEND A HOLIDAY ON SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES.
"Our Children's Ears."
AN INSINUATING WHISPER.
"HAVE WE FORGOTTEN GORDON?"
The Modern Traveller.
"HAVE WE FORGOTTEN GORDON?"
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.
"BURYING THE HATCHET."
A LESSON FROM THE R.N.E.
WORK FOR THE RECESS.
OFF TO MASHERLAND.
A FEW REMINISCENCES.
WORTH NOTICING.
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
MISS DECIMA-HELYETT-SMITHSON-JACKSON.
HOW TO BE POPULAR.