'ARRY ON HORSEBACK.
Don't fancy he twigged, not percisely. But, lor', them French waiters is snide,
With their black Heton jackets, white aprons, and trim "mutton chopper" each side,
At the Caffys, dear boy, 'arter twelve, it's a wonder to see 'em waltz round
With a tray-full of syrups and strors, with no spillings, and 'ardly a sound.
Bit confusing at fust, the French lingo; their posters an' cetrer looks rum,
And you've got to be fly to their meaning afore you can make the thing hum.
I kep' on button-holing old buffers to find out my way about town,
And sailed briskly along fur as "Esker—?" when, 'ang it!—I mostly broke down.
Esker voo, with a gurgle to follow, don't fetch 'em, these Frenchies, not much;
"Conny par" comes a great deal too often, and then a cove feels out of touch.
If you want to make love, find yer way, or keep check on the nuggets you spend,
You must put in the patter O. K., mate, or somehow you come out wrong end.
'Ad a turn at the old Expersition, bid one larst good-bye to the Tower,
And chi-iked lar Rerpooblick a bit for her luck in jest keepin' in power.
The Bullanger boom was a fizzle. They say he's mopped out; I dunnow;
But it wouldn't surprise me, my pippin, to see him yet Bossing the Show.
I had met Mister Punch at Chermooney—he also was out on the scoop,
On a Trip Round the World, so he told me. Sez I, "I'll pal on to your troop."
But he gave me a look from his lamps, and somehow I choked off like a shot,
"Take your own line," sea he, "and my tip; do not swagger, drink deep, or talk rot!"
Should 'ave like to ha' joined him, in course, but he's sech a 'ot 'and at a 'int,
Still he said if I'd send him a letter to you, mate, he'd put it in print.
So look hout for the Halmanack, Charlie! You saw my last letter from Parry?
Well this with some picters, I 'ope will bring similar kudos to
'Arry.
Having disposed of 'Arry, Mr. Punch wished himself in the Celestial Empire. And in China the Sage found himself. Pagodas and pigtails met him on every side.
"Really, not half bad," murmured the Sage, and then, turning to Toby, he was surprised to find his attached attendant trembling from the tail backwards. "Ah, I see: a Celestial restaurant! No, no, my boy, don't be alarmed. They shan't eat you. If I want any food, it shall be some light refreshment—say a Feast of Lanterns."
"I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Sir," said a portly person, with a remarkably florid complexion, and wearing a suit of well-worn evening clothes, emerging from the restaurant. "I've been waiting for you, Sir, a long time."
"That you have, Robert—in the City and elsewhere. But what are you doing in China?"
"It's a long story, Mr. Punch; but if you don't mind eating this bird's-nest soup, which isn't bad, though not a patch upon our dear tuttle, I will tell you how I came to leave our glorious Corporation, and got into these outlandish parts."
Mr. Punch bowed, and discarding a pair of chopsticks for a spoon, toyed with the succulent preparation while he listened to
"Robert's Story about China."
