Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, October 6, 1894

1. It was the beginning of the Club season. I shall be glad to see all the boys again after all these weeks! murmured Clubber, as Mrs. C. packed him up.
2. Ah! How are you, dear old boy? shouted the Clubites, hysterical with affectionate yearning.
3. Magnificent reciter Foodle is, to be sure! they murmured, in an ecstatic dream of enthusiasm. Brav O! Splendid, dear old boy!!
4. And when they parted at the end of the evening, they breathed fervently, Good night, old fellow—bless you!
5. It was the middle of the Club season. Hum, Foodle's recitations are always so long-winded. Great mistake, they muttered to themselves. And the other fellows are a bit slow, after all.
6. And when they parted at the end of the evening, they just nodded.
7. It was the end of the Club season. Well, if you want my opinion, said Clubber, that Foodle's a beastly poor reciter. I don't want your opinion; nobody does, said Rubber. But you happen to be right for once.
8. I'm not going to recite to you idiots, said Foodle. It's a waste of breath. Much relieved to hear it! said Groodle.
9. I'm precious glad to get away from that maddening set of chuckle-headed bores for a few weeks! said Clubber, as Mrs. C. unpacked him.
The Prime Minister has been having a high old time of it lately in the North, and has become the youngest burgess of goodness knows how many ancient boroughs. But it has been left to a reporter to note with an eagle eye the really interesting performance which Lord Rosebery has put to his credit. Immediately on leaving Dornoch, says this gentleman (the reporter, not the Premier), Lord Rosebery and the Duke of Sutherland drove to the Meikle Ferry, a distance of four miles, crossed the ferry, and again drove to Tain, four miles farther on. Crossing the ferry they both took a turn at the oars, and generally discussed the sport of seal shooting ! This suggests quite a fresh phase of the New Journalism. We shall soon read such paragraphs as the following:—