These moth-eaten seats never hear,
Never fill at the voice of a “Swell,”
Or empty when dinner-time’s near!
Punch, November 8, 1884.
The Tortures of Tourists.
Yes, I am the monarch of all I survey,
My right, at the Club, there is none to dispute;
The whole of the papers are mine every day,
And no one esteems me a bore or a brute,