MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.
Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. Hammerton

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.

Edwin (suddenly, after a long pause). "Darling!"

Angelina. "Yes, darling?"

Edwin. "Nothing, darling. Only darling, darling!"

[Bilious Old Gentleman feels quite sick.

MR. PUNCH'S
BOOK OF LOVE

BEING

THE HUMOURS OF COURTSHIP
AND MATRIMONY

WITH 150 ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
JOHN LEECH,
CHARLES KEENE,
GEORGE DU MAURIER,
SIR JOHN TENNIEL,
PHIL MAY,
E. T. REED,
L. RAVEN-HILL,
GORDON BROWNE,
TOM BROWNE,
J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE,
C. E. BROCK,
REGINALD CLEAVER,
CHARLES PEARS,
A. S. BOYD,
LEWIS BAUMER,
DAVID WILSON,
G. L. STAMPA,
AND OTHERS
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated

LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN

Take back the heart that you gave me.

ABOUT MATRIMONIAL JOKES, AND ONE IN PARTICULAR

Of all Mr. Punch's jokes it might be fair to say that none has ever rivalled the popularity of "Advice to persons about to marry,—Don't!" unless it be that of the Scotsman who had been no more than a few hours in London, "when bang went saxpence!" Of the latter, more in its place; here, we are immediately concerned with "Punch's advice". The most preposterous stories are current among the uninformed as to the origin of some of Mr. Punch's favourite jests. Only recently we heard a gentleman telling a group of people in a hotel smoking-room that Mark Twain got a hundred pounds from Punch for writing that famous line, "I used your soap two years ago; since then I have used no other," familiar to every one by Mr. Harry Furniss's drawing of a disreputable tramp who is supposed to be writing the words quoted. As a matter of fact, the idea came to Mr. Furniss from an anonymous correspondent. Stories equally, if not more, absurd have been told as to the origin of "Punch's advice," which, thanks to the researches of Mr. Spielmann, we now know to have been the happy inspiration of Henry Mayhew, one of the founders of Punch. It was sixty-one years ago that Mayhew wrote the line, and how many millions of times it must have been quoted since one dare not guess!

It may be said to have struck the keynote of Mr. Punch's matrimonial policy, as an examination of his pages reveals him an incorrigible pessimist on the subject of marriage. He is very hard on the mother-in-law, but in all his life he has not made more than one or two jokes about the young wife's pastry, though he has made a good deal of fun about her general ignorance of domestic affairs. Nor has he spared the bachelor or the old maid, and the designing widow has been an especial butt for his shafts.

It might be a good thing to pass a law prohibiting young and marriageable men from reading Punch, in order to save many of them from being discouraged and frightened out of the thought of marriage, and it would certainly be an incentive thereto—they would be tempted to become Benedicts if only that they might qualify for the removal of the prohibition!

"DRIVEN TO DESPERATION"

MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF LOVE

Advice to Persons who have "Fallen in Love."—Fall out.

Advice to Persons about to Marry.—Don't.

Encouraging.—George (who has just engaged himself to the Girl of his heart) breaks the happy news to his friend Jack (who has been married some time).—Jack. "Ah! well, my dear fellow, marriage is the best thing in the long run, and I can assure you that after a year or two a man gets used to it, and feels just as jolly as if he'd never married at all!"

A Definition.—Flirtation: a spoon with nothing in it.

Domestic.—It was a homely but pungent observation, on the part of a man of much experience and observation, that marriage without love was like tripe without onions.

Adage by a Young Lady.—Man proposes, but mamma disposes.

By a Beastly Old Bachelor.—A married man's fate (in brief).—Hooked, booked, cooked.

Describe a Home-Circle.—The wedding ring.

How to fix the Happy Day.—Q. When's the best day for a wedding? A. Why, of course, "A Weddin's day."

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

Said Stiggins to his wife one day,

"We've nothing left to eat;

If things go on in this queer way,

We shan't make both ends meet."

The dame replied, in words discreet,

"We're not so badly fed,

If we can make but one end meat,

And make the other bread."

Clergyman. "Augustus, wilt thou take this woman——"

Bride (late of Remnant & Co.'s Ribbon Department). "Lady!"

To Persons about to Marry.—Take care to choose a lady help, and not a lady encumbrance.

Accounted for at Last.—Is it not strange that the "best man" at a wedding is not the bridegroom? This must be the reason of so many unhappy marriages.

The Best Wards of a Latchkey.—Homewards!

One Great Lottery Office still Recognised by the Law.—The Marriage Register.

"There goes the second Mrs. Muggeray!"

"Gracious! What on earth did he marry her for?"

"Oh, he said he wanted some one to amuse the children!"

WONDERFUL WHAT AN ADJECTIVE WILL DO

Brown (newly married—to Jones, whom he entertained a few evenings previously). "Well, what did you think of us, old boy, eh?"

Jones. "Oh, pretty flat. Er—awfully pretty flat!"

Scientific Accuracy.—"But why do you want to marry her?" "Because I love her!" "My dear fellow, that's an excuse—not a reason!"

To Persons about to Marry.—What is enough for one, is half enough for two, short commons for three, and starvation for half a dozen.

Love me, lady!

My hair is gray;

When round comes pay-day

I cannot pay.

My corns are awful,

My prospects shady,

I want a comforter:

Love me, lady!

Notes of Admiration.—Love letters.

"THERE IS A TIE THAT BINDS US TO OUR HOMES"

He. "I can't understand Phyllis rejecting me last night."

She. "Never mind. You'll soon get over it."

He. "Oh, I've got over it right enough; but I can't help feeling so doosid sorry for her. I shan't ask her again!"

"A NIGHT OF IT"

Young Wife (2 a.m..). "Dinner at the Albion! the theatre! and supper and a rubber at the club! Well, Henry, I wonder you did not go to all the places of amusement in London, and (sobbing) not come home all night!"

Henry. "My dear, all th' other places shu' rup!!"

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
A FRAGMENT

Yes, Robert! But O! do look at the excellent evening glow on yon distant hills! How solemn!! How sublime!"

"O! stunning. Well, then I measured the scullery: six feet by ten ... that'll just do, won't it?"

PRIMARY ROCK

The Effect of Getting Married.—"Poor Dick! how sadly he is altered since his marriage!" remarked one friend to another. "Why, yes, of course," replied the other; "directly a man's neck is in the nuptial noose, every one must see that he's a haltered person."

A Bad Pre-eminence.—What is there beats a good wife? A bad husband.

Question by a Sewing Machine.—What is woman's true sphere?—The Hemisphere.

A Marriage Question.—If a man addicted to smoking marries a widow, does it follow that he must lay down his pipe, because she gives up her weeds?

A Ready-made Rejoinder.—He. "You made a fool of me when I married you, ma'am!" She. "Lor! You always told me you were a self-made man!"

Mem. by an Old Maid.—If you "look over your age," you won't find anyone else willing to do the same.

MAFEKING NIGHT
(Or rather 3 a.m. the following morning)

Voice (from above). "Good gracious, William! Why don't you come to bed?"

William (huskily). "My dear Maria, you know it's been the rule of my life to go to bed shober—and I can't posh'bly come to bed yet!"

THE NEOGAMS—A WARNING

Newly married,

Railway carried;

Sighing.

At the station

Osculation;

Crying.

Smiling, parting;

Hands at starting

Gripping.

Cozy quarters,

Guards and porters

Tipping.

On the journey

Glances yearny,

Mooning.

Closely sitting,

As is fitting,

Spooning.

Destination;

Forced cessation.

Pity!

Porters poking

Fun, and joking,

Witty.

On arriving,

Carriage driving;

Kissing.

Lovely scenery,

Lakes and greenery,

Missing.

Hotel, table

d'hôte a rabble.

Shun it!

Private cover

Sooner over—

Done it.

Champagne drinking;

Waiter winking.

Curious!

People smiling;

Very riling;

Furious.

After dining,

Arms entwining,

Walking

Sipping honey—

What's there funny?—

Talking.

So time passes;

Grinning asses

Guess 'em

Newly married,

Sorely harried—

Bless 'em!

Casual Acquaintance.. "Hear you're to be married, Mr. Ribbes. Congratulate you!"

Mr. Ribbes. "Much obliged, but I dunno so much about congratulations. It's corstin' me a pretty penny, I tell yer. Mrs. Ribbes as is to be, she wants 'er trousseau, yer know; an' then there's the furnishin', an' the licence, an' the parson's fees; an' then I 'ave to give 'er an' 'er sister a bit o' jool'ry a-piece; an' wot with one thing an' another—she's a 'eavy woman, yer know, thirteen stun odd—well, I reckon she'll 'a corst me pretty near two-an'-eleven a pound afore I git 'er 'ome!"

SONGS OF THE HEARTH-RUG

THE NEGLECTED WIFE TO HER RUSHLIGHT

My rushlight, when first kindled,

Twelve inches long wast thou;

And I behold thee dwindled

To one, my candle, now!

How brief thy span, contrasted

With rushlight's average life!

A happier dip had lasted

A week a happier wife.

Where is my husband got to?

Oh say, expiring light!

A man ought really not to

Stay out so every night.

I'm sure that Bradshaw's press'd him

To join his tippling lot:

That Bradshaw! I detest him;—

The good-for-nothing sot!

Would that this piece of paper,

Which, ere thy flame expire,

I light from thee, my taper,

Could set that club on fire.

A Blunder-buss.—Kissing the wrong girl.

Motto for the Married.—Never dis-pair.

Mem. by "One who Married in Haste."—"The real 'Battle of Life' begins with a short engagement."

Time—3 a.m.

Voice from above. "Is that you, John? You're very late, aren't you?"

Brown (returned from celebrating the latest victory). "It's only about—er—twelve, my dear, I think——"

The Cuckoo Clock. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

Brown (grasping situation instantly). "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

A WET NURSE

"LITERA SCRIPTA."—Wooer. "Oh, Miss—oh, Lavinia! may I not still hope?—or is your cruel rejection of my suit final and irrevoc——" Spinster (firmly). "Yes, Mr. Brown, I seriously desire you will regard it so." Wooer. "Then, dearest, may I ask you"—(producing the materials from adjacent writing-table)—"to—ah—put it on papar! I shall feel safer!"

A "Noiseless Sewing Machine."—A good wife.

Pauca Verba.—Robinson (after a long Whist bout at the Club). "It's awfully late, Brown. What will you say to your wife?" Brown (in a whisper). "Oh, I shan't say much, you know—'Good morning, dear,' or something o' that sort. She'll say the rest!!!"

NONE BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE FARE

Playing down to him.—Young couple (who expect the visit of a very miserly relative, from whom they have expectations) are clearing the room of every sign of luxury.

Wife (earnestly). "We must do all we can to make uncle feel at home."

Husband (caustically). "Then we had better let the fire out."

Fair Widow. "Yes, I've made up my mind that when I die I shall be cremated, as my husband was."

Gallant Captain. "Dear lady, please don't talk about such dreadful things. Consider how much better it would be, in your case, to—er—cross out the C!"

Visitor (to Friend lately left a Widower).—"Hullo, Tom! That looks a stiffish bill you've got there!"

Tom.. "Ah, how those rascals of undertakers do fleece you! They know you can hardly help yourself! Of course, in my poor wife's case I would cheerfully have paid double. But one hates to be done.—Um!"

A Wife's Vocation.—Husbandry.

A DECLARATION

"Louisa, you've stolen something."

"Go on!"

"You 'ave."

"You're a——! What 'ave I stole?"

"My 'eart!"

MARRIAGE MEMORIES

What the Father says.—Which side must I stand on when I give her away?

What the Mother says.—I am sure the ices will be late for the breakfast.

What the Sister says.—I flatter myself I am the best looking of the eight bridesmaids.

What the Brother says.—Of course, the best man is behind his time—just like him!

What the Pew-opener says.—This way, my dear young lady!

What the Beadle says.—They are sure to be in time, sir. I will motion to you the moment I see 'em a coming.

What the Clergyman says.—Have you got the ring?

What the Crowd says.—Hoorray! That's 'er! Oh, ain't 'e a guy!

What the Old Friend of the Family says.—I have known him too since he was so high. That was nigh upon forty years ago!

What the Funny Man says.—You can see from my face that I am just the man to be associated with the bridesmaids.

What the Best Man says.—Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking.

What the Bride says.—Good-bye, my own darling mamma and papa, and—Emmy dear, please do see the things are all right before we start.

What the Bridegroom says.—Thank goodness, it is all over.

"DECEIVERS EVER"

Goldsmith. "Would you like any name or motto engraved on it, sir?"

Customer (who had chosen an engagement ring). "Ye—yes—um—'Augustus to Irene.' And—ah—loo' here—don't—ah—cut 'Irene' very deep!!"

A SCIENTIFIC WOOER

"Drink to me only with thine eyes"—

And if you happen to survive a

So curious potion, pray advise

How it affects the conjunctiva!

This problem, which my mind absorbs,

A veritable Gordian knot is:

How can maids swallow with their orbs?

Where's the protecting epiglottis?

"I sent thee late a rosy wreath"—

For Science' sake, my Angelina,

And hope you noticed underneath

Those buds of rosa damascena.

No high-flown zeal my soul uplifts,

And as for ardour, I've not got any;—

I simply send you floral gifts

To help you forward with your botany!

The Flirt's Paradise.—Coquet Island.

SO SWEET OF HER!

Lady (recently married, in answer to congratulations of visiting lady friend). "Thank you, dear. But I still find it very hard to remember my new name."

Friend. "Ah, dear, but of course you had the old one so long!"

"Oh, George dear, the landlord has raised the rent!"

"Has he? I can't!"

EVIDENCE OF AN EYE-WITNESS

Guest. "Why do you believe in second sight, Major?"

Major Darby (in an impressive whisper). "Because I fell in love at first sight!"

FULL MOON FIRST QUARTER

THIRD QUARTER NO MOON

The Brute Creation.—Husbands who beat their wives.

The Height of Modesty.—The most bashful girl we ever knew was one who blushed when she was asked if she had not been courting sleep.

"Are you comin' 'ome?"

"I'll do ellythik you like in reasol, M'ria—(hic)—bur I won't come 'ome."

Harold. "And now, darling, tell me what your father said when you told him we were engaged."

Sybil. "Oh, Harold, don't ask me to repeat his language!"

TO ALL THE OTHER GIRLS

You know, I like you awfully, Jess,

Phyllis, the same applies to you,

To Edith and to Mary no less,

Also to others, not a few.

Yet some of you are rather "mad,"

You choose to feel, I understand, a

Slight sense of injury, since I've had

The glorious luck to win Amanda.

I wish, sincerely, it were not

Impossible for me to fall

In love with some of you—a lot—

In fact I'd gladly love you all!

But, when you come to think it out,

I'm sure my reasoning will strike you,

You'll find it, I can have no doubt,

More flattering that I should like you.

Fate sends their wives to poor and rich,

Fate does not send them thus their friends;

Then let my final couplet (which

I rather fancy) make amends.

This fundamental truth, I trust,

My seeming fickleness excuses—

One simply loves because one must

Whereas one likes because one chooses!

HIGHLY SATISFACTORY

Mistress. "I'm sorry for you, John; but if your wife has got such a dreadful temper, why did you marry her?"

Coachman (the Fourth Husband). "Well, mum, I had three good characters with her?"

A. "That's Jones's daughter with him. She's just about to be married."

B. "Who's the lucky man?"

A. "Jones."

A FESTIVE PROSPECT!

Husband. "Didn't I tell you not to invite your mother back in my——"

Wife. "Dear, that's the very thing she's come about! She read your letter!" [Tableau.

DOMESTIC TIE

VALENTINE'S DAY—THEN AND NOW

Then—Thirty Years Ago. Family assembled.

Paterfamilias. Post nearly two hours late! Really disgraceful!

Materfamilias. Well, dear, remember it's only once a year, and we used to enjoy it ourselves before we were married!

Eldest Daughter. I got half-a-dozen last year. I dare say I shall get twice as many this.

Second Daughter. I dare say! I believe you send them yourself!

Eldest Daughter. So probable! How can you think of such silly things! And how spiteful of you!

Son and Heir. Don't quarrel, girls! And here's the post.

Enter servant with heaps of letters, which are eagerly seized and distributed.

Chorus. What are they?

Paterfamilias (disgusted at his budget). Valentines!

Now—To-day. Family assembled as before.

Paterfamilias. The fourteenth of February. Dear me, surely this is a memorable date—somehow.

Materfamilias. To be sure, father. It's Valentine's Day.

Eldest Daughter. Is it really true, mother, that people used to receive pictures just as we do Christmas cards?

Second Daughter. Come, you can surely remember. It's not so very long for you.

Eldest Daughter. Don't be spiteful! Remember, miss, there's only a couple of years between us!

Second Daughter. Really! From our appearance there might be a decade!

Son and Heir. Don't quarrel, girls! And here's the post!

Enter servant with a solitary letter.

Chorus. What is it?

Paterfamilias (perusing a bill). Not a Valentine!

"The Act of Union."—Getting married.

That dear old Mrs. Wilkinson (who can't always express exactly what she means to say, meeting Jones with the girl of his choice). "And is this young lady your fiasco, Mr. Jones?">[

Brown. "I say, old man, who's that very plain elderly lady you were walking with—now sitting here?"

Smith (the impecunious, who has married money). "Oh, that's my wife."

Brown. "Your wife! But"—(lowering his voice)—"She has only one eye—and so awfully—I beg your pardon—but——"

Smith (pleasantly). "You needn't whisper, old man. She's deaf"

LOVE IN LACONICS

He. Love you! Have me, dear?

She. Humph! How much a year?

He. Three hundred! Expectations.

She. Tales of hope! Relations?

He. Aunt. Ten thousand pounder.

Eighty. Always found her

Liberal. Thinks me Crichton,

Seedy now at Brighton.

Made her will,—a right 'un!

She. Ah! Aunt-icipations,—

Like x in equations—

Unknown quantity?

Question! Let me see,

Love + "screw" + x

(Latter for expecs)

Equals Me + You!

Hardly think 'twill do!

Do not wish to vex,

But,—first find out x!

He. If I prove x ample—

She. I'll no longer trample

On your hopes.

He. Agreed!

She. Hope you may succeed!

The Result of an Imprudent Marriage (by our own Matrimonial Adviser).—County Court-ship.

Ethel. "Why, what's the matter, Gertrude?"

Gertrude. "Oh, nothing. Only Jack and I had a quarrel the other day, and I wrote and told him never to dare to speak or write to me again,—— and the wretch hasn't even had the decency to answer my letter!"

THE IDEAL HUSBAND

My dear Ethel,—You ask me what "sort of a husband" I recommend. My dear, ask me the name of a dressmaker, of a doctor, or of a (ugh!) dentist, and I can tell you precisely. I can name the man. But what sort of a husband! Well, after sifting the matter carefully, and after looking before you leap, and after an experience of some few years of married life, I say, decidedly, choose a man ...

WHO LIKES TO GO SHOPPING.

You will find him very useful if managed judiciously; he will prove an immense saving to you, as if you went alone you would have to tip porters, and squabble with cabmen. Then from a certain view I should advise some of those "about to marry" to select a man who has no club. But this is an exceptional case. Finally, if you wish to be strictly economical, and to live in the suburbs, or in the country, and if your husband has no occupation or profession, then I should say, in order that you may attend assiduously to your domestic duties, which include visiting, five o'clock teas, and so forth, then ascertain that your husband is of a maternal disposition, and one ...

WHO DOES THIS.

If I think of anything else I will let you know. But, above all, please yourself, and by so doing you will delight

Yours affectionately,

Dora.

"OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN," &c.

Parson (to Ne'er-do-weel). "What's this I hear, Giles—that your wife has left you! Ah! this is what I——"

Giles. "She might do worse than that, sir."

Parson (shocked). "Worse!"

Giles. "She might come back again!"

TO A RICH YOUNG WIDOW.

I will not ask if thou canst touch

The tuneful ivory key?

Those silent notes of thine are such

As quite suffice for me.

I'll make no question if thy skill

The pencil comprehends,

Enough for me, love, if thou still

Canst draw thy dividends!

"So Selfish?"—Husband (with pride). "My love, I've been effecting—I've insured my life to-day for ten thousand pou——"

Young Wife. "Just like the men! Always looking out for themselves! I think—you might have insured mine while you were about it!!"

By a Fashionable Young Married Woman.—The latest thing out—My husband.

Celibacy and Wedlock.—If single life is bad, then it stands to reason that double life is twice as bad.

Employment for Women.—Matchmaking.

VERY NECESSARY

Young Wife. "I'm so happy! I wonder you never married."

Elderly Spinster. "My child, I've always said I never would and never could marry until I met a man different from other men and full of courage."

Young Wife. "Of course you couldn't. How stupid of me."

THE "OFF" SEASON

Daphne, that day

Do you remember

(Then it was May,

Now it's November)

Plighting our troth

Nothing should sever;

Binding us both

Firmly, for ever?

Yes, I allow

Strephon's more showy;—

As for me, now

I prefer Chloe.

Yet, if men say

"Fickle," remember

Then it was May,

Now it's November.

Paper for the Newly-Married..—The Economist.

"À Propos!"—Sententious Old Bachelor (in the course of conversation). "As the 'old saw' has it, my dear madam, 'Man proposes, but——'"

Widow

(

promptly

). "Yes; but that's just what he doesn't do!" (

Tableau!

)

Motto for the Divorce Court.—Marry, and come up!

She. "But, George, suppose papa settles my dowry on me in my own right?"

He. "Well, my dear girl, it's—er—nothing to me if he does!"

ABOUT TO ENTER THE BRIDAL STATE

LOVE LETTERS OF A BUSINESS MAN.

The course of true love, though beset with almost insurmountable obstacles, often rewards the faithful lovers at the last with supreme happiness. But, alas! sometimes the said true love proves naught but a toboggan-slide leading to a precipice, into which the true lovers' hopes are hurled and dashed into atomic smithereens.

We have before us a volume of a "Business Man's Love Letters," a few extracts from which we give below. Reader, if you have a tear, prepare to shed it now! The burning passion which surges in the lover's heart, though embodied in phrases habitually used by a business man, is sure to touch your soul. But presently comes the pathetic ending, when she is no longer anything to him, and he—to use the imperfect but comprehensive vernacular—is to her as "dead as a door nail." Reader, read on!

I.

August 1, 1899.

Dear Miss Smythe,—With reference to my visit last evening at the house of Mr. John Jorkins, our mutual friend, when I had the pleasure of meeting you.

Having been much charmed by your conversation and general attractiveness, I beg to inquire whether you will allow me to cultivate the acquaintanceship further.

Awaiting the favour of your esteemed reply,

Yours faithfully,

John Green.

II.

August 3, 1899.

My Dear Miss Smythe,—I beg to acknowledge with many thanks receipt of your letter of even date, contents of which I note with much pleasure.

I hope to call this evening at 7.15 p.m., when I trust to find you at home.

With kindest regards, I beg to remain,

Yours very truly,

John Green.

III.

August 21, 1899.

My dearest Evelina,—Referring to our conversation this evening when you consented to become my wife.

I beg to confirm the arrangement then made, and would suggest the wedding should take place within the ensuing six months. No doubt you will give the other necessary details your best consideration, and will communicate your views to me in due course.

Trusting there is every happiness before us,

I remain,

Your darling Chickabiddy,

John.

IV.

August 22, 1899.

My ownest Tootsey-wootsey,—Enclosed please find 22-carat gold engagement ring, set with thirteen diamonds and three rubies, receipt of which kindly acknowledge by return.

Trusting same will give every satisfaction,

I am,

Your only lovey-dovey,

Johnny.

X X X X X X Kindly note kisses.

V.

November 24, 1899.

My sweetest Evelina,—I am duly in receipt of your letter of 20th inst., which I regret was not answered before owing to pressure of business.

In reply thereto I beg to state that I do love you dearly, and only you, and also no one else in all the world. Further I shall have much pleasure in continuing to love you for evermore, and no one else in all the world.

Trusting to see you this evening as usual and in good health.

I am, Your ownest own,

John.

VI.

January 4, 1900.

To Miss Smythe, Madam,—In accordance with the intention expressed in my letter of yesterday, I duly forwarded addressed to you a parcel containing all letters, etc., received from you, and presume they have been safely delivered.

I have received to-day, per carrier, a parcel containing various letters which I have written to you from time to time. No doubt it was your intention to despatch the complete number written by me, but I notice one dated August 21 is not included. Will you kindly forward the letter in question by return, when I will send you a full receipt?

Yours faithfully,

John Green.

VII.

January 6, 1900.

To Miss Smythe, Madam,—I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letter of yesterday, and note your object in retaining my letter of August 21 last. As I intend to defend the issue in the case, I shall do as you request, and will leave all further communications to be made through my solicitors.

Yours, &c.,

John Green.

VIII.

15, Peace Court, Temple, E.C.

Messrs. Bang, Crash & Co.,

9a, Quarrel Row, E.C.
Smythe v. Green.

Gentlemen,—We are in receipt of your communication of yesterday's date, with which you enclose copy of letter dated August 21. We note that you state the document in question has been duly stamped at Somerset House, and are writing our client this evening with a view to offering your client terms, through you, to stay the proceedings which have been commenced.

Yours faithfully,

Blithers, Blathers, Blothers & Co.

Strange but True.—When does a husband find his wife out? When he finds her at home and she doesn't expect him.

CAUTION

Married Sister. "And of course, Laura, you will go to Rome or Florence for your honeymoon?"

Laura. "Oh dear, no! I couldn't think of going further than the Isle of Wight with a man I know little or nothing of!"

LOVE'S PROMPTINGS

Edwin (recit). "'There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee. Thou standest alone, as the nightingale sings!'" &c., &c.

Angelina (amorously). "Oh, Edwin, how do you think of such beautiful things?"

DIFFERENT ASPECTS

She. "Isn't it a pretty view?"

Susceptible Youth. "Awfully pretty, by Jove!"

MARRIED v. SINGLE

Bee (single). "Why do you wear a pink blouse, dear? It makes you look so yellow!"

Bella (married). "Does it, dear? Of course you can make your complexion suit any blouse, can't you!"

He. "My people are bothering me to marry Miss Mayford."

She. "You'd be very lucky if you did. She is very clever and very beautiful——"

He. "Oh! I don't want to marry brains and beauty. I want to marry you."

AN AMBIGUOUS COMPLIMENT

Miss Beekley. "I'm so glad I'm not an heiress, Mr. Soper. I should never know whether my suitors were attracted by myself or my money."

Mr. Soper. "Oh, Miss Beekley, your mirror should leave you in no doubt on that score!"

Bulkley. "Yes; her parents persuaded her, and it's all over between us."

Sympathetic Friend. "She can't have realised what a lot she was giving up."

Wife. "I hope you talked plainly to him."

Husband. "I did indeed. I told him he was a fool, a perfect fool!"

Wife (approvingly). "Dear John! How exactly like you!"

THE OLD, OLD STORY!

The Colonel. "Yes; he was senior wrangler of his year, and she took a mathematical scholarship at Girton; and now they're engaged!"

Mrs. Jones. "Dear me, how interesting! and oh, how different their conversation must be from the insipid twaddle of ordinary lovers!"

THEIR CONVERSATION

He. "And what would dovey do, if lovey were to die?"

She. "Oh, dovey would die too!"

NEEDLESSLY POINTED

Sympathetic Friend. "Well, my dear, I'm sure your mother will miss you sadly after your having been with her so long!"

ALTRUISM

Maud (newly married). "You look very melancholy, George; are you sorry you married me?"

George. "No, dear—of course not. I was only thinking of all the nice girls I can't marry."

Maud. "Oh, George, how horrid of you! I thought you cared for nobody but me?"

George. "No more I do. I wasn't thinking of myself, but of the disappointment for them.

DOMESTIC BLISS

Head of the Family. "For what we are going to receive, make us truly thankful.—Hem! Cold mutton again!"

Wife of the Bussum. "And a very good dinner too, Alexander. Somebody must be economical. People can't expect to have Richmond and Greenwich dinners out of the little housekeeping money I have."

"AN ENGLISH MAN'S HOUSE," Etc.

Maid (looking over wall to newly married couple just returned from their honeymoon). "Oh please'm, that dog was sent here yesterday as a wedding present; and none of us can't go near him. You'll have to go round the back way!"

Jones (newly married). "There's my darling playing the guitar."

(But it wasn't. It was only the garden roller over the gravel!)

THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID
Jones. "I will!"

Mr. Jenks (who likes Miss Constance). "No, I assure you, Miss Constance, I have never indulged in flirtation."

Miss Constance (who does not care for Mr. Jenks). "Ah, perhaps you have never had any encouragement!"

The Luxury of Liberty.

Bosom Friend. "Well, dear, now that you are a widow, tell me are you any the happier for it?"

Interesting Widow. "Oh! no. But I have my freedom, and that's a great comfort. Do you know, my dear, I had an onion yesterday for the first time these fourteen years?"

"The Silly Season."—The Honeymoon.

Consolation.

Mother-in-law. "I'll be bound that Robert—I've lost all patience with him—never dined with you on Michaelmas-day, my dear?"

Daughter. "No, mamma, but he sent me home a goose."

Mother-in-law. "Psha! Done in a fit of absence, my dear."

THE HUSBAND'S REVENGE

A Warning to Wives who will keep bad Cooks

Provisions raw

Long time he bore:

Remonstrance was in vain;

To escape the scrub

He join'd a club:

Nor dined at home again.

Matrimony (by our Musical Cynic).—The common c(h)ord of two flats.

DOMESTIC BLISS

Little Foot Page (unexpectedly). "Here's some gentlemen, please, sir!"

"Can I go abroad to finish, ma?"

"No. It's time you were married—and men don't care how ill-educated a woman is."

"You shouldn't judge everybody by pa, ma!"

LEAVING THE PARENTAL NEST

The Bride's Father (to Bridegroom). "Oh, John, you'll take care of her, won't you!"

REFLECTIONS ON A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT

We parted—cheerfully! Yet now

I've fallen into disrepute

With nearly all her friends, who vow

That she's an angel, I'm a brute;

Black isn't black enough for me

My conduct will not bear inspection—

A statement which I hold to be

Fair food for critical reflection.

We parted. The consummate ease

With which "united hearts" can range

From their allegiance, if they please,

But illustrates the laws of change.

The thoughts and tastes of yester year

Fall under Father Time's correction—

This is not critical, I fear,

But platitudinous reflection!

We parted. She had quite a pack

Of friends, "nice boys," as she avowed;

She called them Bob, and Dick, and Jack,

And I was—one amongst the crowd.

I did not, people may infer,

Possess entire her young affection—

Yet, be it understood, on her

I cast no shadow of reflection!

We parted. Men cannot persist—

In playing uncongenial parts—

I was a keen philatelist,

Her hobby was collecting—hearts

A simple case. I did not pine

To add my heart to her collection,

She had no stamps to add to mine,

We parted—wisely, on reflection!

Curious Distinction.—The English love; the French make love.—Madame Punch.

Mr. Grumble. "I see by the paper that Mount Vesuvius is in eruption."

Mrs. G. "Oh, I'm so glad!"

Mr. G. "There you are again, Maria. Now why on earth should you be glad?"

Mrs. G. "Well, you can't blame me for it that's all!"

OLD FRIENDS

He. "Do you remember your old school-friend Sophy Smythe?"

She. "Yes, indeed, I do. A most absurd-looking thing. So silly too! What became of her?"

He. "Oh, nothing. Only—I married her."

IN THE SAME BOAT

"I don't think she's pretty."

"Neither do I." (After a pause.) "Did she refuse you too?"

Great Expectations.—Ethel (youngest daughter). "Oh, pa dear, what did Geo—— what did young Mr. Brown want?" Pa. "Secret, my love. 'Wished to speak to me privately!" Ethel. "Oh, pa, but do tell me—'cause he was so very attentive to me before you came in—and then asked me to leave the room." Pa. "Well, my dear"—(in a whisper)—"he'd left his purse at the office, and wanted to borrow eighteenpence to pay his train home!"

"Sharp's the Word!"—Wife. "Poor mamma is dreadfully low-spirited this morning, George. Only think—she has just expressed a wish to be cremated!" Husband (with alacrity). "'O'b-less my——" (Throwing down his newspaper.) "Tell her to put her things on, dear! I'll—I'll drive her over at once!!"

ON THE CARDS

Young Wife. "Oh, mamma, do you know I believe Alfred's going to reform, and give up gambling!"

Her Mother. "What makes you think so, dear?"

Young Wife. "Why all last night he kept talking in his sleep about his miserable, worthless heart!"

LOOKING AFTER THE CHAPS

PROFESSIONAL LOVE-LETTERS

I

From Mr. Norman Dormer, Architect and Surveyor, to Miss Caroline Tower.

My Precious,

Pity me who must stay and fret in London, while you are enjoying yourself at Broadstairs. How I long to be there, surveying the ocean by your side, and tracing your dear name on the sands! But fate and a father have placed a barrier between us. So I pace up and down before the old house in T———— Square, and look up at a certain dormitory on the second story—in no state of elevation you may be sure—and make plans for the future, and build castles in the air, and try to forget that my designs on your heart appear ridiculous to your papa, whose estimate of me I am aware is not in excess. For can I forget what he said that wet Saturday afternoon in the back drawing-room, when I tendered myself to him as a son-in-law, and the tender was not accepted? After telling him that it was the summit, the pinnacle of my ambition to win you as my wife, did he not answer that he considered I ought not to aspire to your hand until the statement of my pecuniary means (as he worded it) was more satisfactory, and, meanwhile, requested me to discontinue my pointed attentions? Never until you bid me. Only be firm, and the difficulties now in our way will but serve to cement us more closely together; only be true and I will wait patiently for that day which shall put the coping-stone to my happiness. I build upon every word, every look, every smile I can call to mind. You will write and assure me there is no foundation for the report of another and more fortunate competitor, but that I still fill the same niche in your affections I ever did? For, Caroline, were I to hear you were an "engaged" Tower, I could not survive the blow. I should stab myself with my compasses in the back office.

But away with such gloomy fears. Let me picture her to myself. How plumb she stands! How arch she looks! What a beam in her eye! What a graceful curve in her neck! What an exquisitely chiselled nose! What a brick of a girl altogether! I must stop in my specification, or you will think there is something wrong in my upper story, and not give credence to a word I say.

I have just been calling on your sister, and saw your little pet Poppy, who talked in her pretty Early English about "Tant Tarry." Aunt Sarah was there, staying the day, looking as mediæval as ever, and with her hair dressed in the usual Decorated style. She hinted that you were imperious, and that any man who married you must make up his mind (grim joke) to fetch and Carry at your bidding. And then you were so ambitious! The wiseacre! why, I will leave no stone unturned to get on in my profession if you will only be constant. I will be the architect of my own fortunes—your love the keystone of my prosperity. The columns of every newspaper shall record my success; every capital in Europe shall know my name. She did not unhinge me a bit, and the shafts of her ridicule fell harmless; although, she made an allusion to "dumpy" men, which I knew was levelled at me, and sneered at married life as very pretty for a time, but the stucco soon fell off. Poor Aunt Sarah! I left her sitting up quite perpendicular with that everlasting work which she is always herring-boning. And now, Carry, darling—oh, dear! I am wanted about something in our designs for the new Law Courts, and have only time to sign myself,

Your own, till Domesday, Norman.

II

From Mr. Alfred Pye, Professed Man Cook, to
Miss Martha Browning.

What a stew I was in all Friday, when no letter came from my Patty! Everything went wrong. I made a hash of one of my entrées, and the chef, who guessed the cause of my confusion, roasted me so that at last I boiled over, and gave him rather a tart answer, for, as you know, I am at times a little too peppery. Thy sweet note, when it did arrive, made all right. I believe I was quite foolish, and went capering about with delight. And then I cooled down, and composed a new soufflé. So you see I do not fritter away all my time, whatever those malicious people who are so ready to carp at me may think.

You say you always like to know where I go in an evening. Well, I went to the Trotters last night, and Fanny played the accompaniment, and I sang—how it made me think of you!—"Good-bye, Sweetbread, good-bye!" (How absurd! Do you see what I have written instead of "Sweetheart"? All the force of habit. It will remind you of that night at Cookham, when we were the top couple in the supper quadrille, and I shouted, "Now, Side-dishes, begin!" and everybody roared except a certain young lady, who looked a trifle vexed. Don't you remember that Spring? You must, because the young potatoes were so small.)

Your protégé, Peter, goes on famously. He's a broth of a boy, not a pickle, like many lads of his age, and yet he won't stand being sauced, as he calls it. He and I nearly got parted at the station, for the crowd was very great after the races—in fact, a regular jam. It rained hard when we reached Sandwich, and I got dripping wet, for I had forgotten my waterproof, and there was not a cab to be had. But now the weather has changed again, and we are half baked. A broiling sun and not a puff of wind.

There was no one in the train I knew. Some small fry stuffing buns all the way, and opposite me a girl who had her hair crimped just like yours, and wore exactly the same sort of scalloped jacket. A raw young man with her, evidently quite spooney; and they larded their talk with rather too many "loves" and "dears" for my taste, for you know we are never tender in public. It grated so on my ear, that at last I made some harmless joke to try and stop it, but mademoiselle, who spoke in that mincing way you detest, turtled up, so I held my tongue all the rest of the way, and amused myself with looking at your carte, and concocting one of my own for our great dinner on the 29th, for the chef has gone to Spithead, and left all to me. And now, my duck, not to mince matters, when I have got that off my mind (if the dinner is only as well dressed as you, it will do), you must fix the day. I am quite unsettled. I cannot concentrate my thoughts on my gravies as I ought, and my desserts are anything but meritorious. All your fault, miss. You are as slippery as an eel. I must have it all arranged when I come up to the City next week. I have some business in the Poultry, but shall slip away as soon as I can, and bring your mother the potted grouse and chutney. ("Cunning man," I hear you say, "he wants to curry favour with mamma.") And you will do what I ask? Where shall we go for our wedding trip?—Strasbourg, Turkey, Cayenne, Westphalia, Worcestershire? Perhaps, I think most of coming back to the little house which I know somebody will always keep in apple-pie order, and of covers for two; and I shall admire the pretty filbert-nails while she peels my nuts, and we will both give up our flirtations, mere entremets, and sit down soberly to enjoy that substantial pièce de résistance—Matrimony. Do you like the menu? Then, my lamb, say "yes" to

Your own

Alfred.

P.S.—I know my temper is rather short, but then think of my crust! And it speaks well for me that I would rather be roasted fifty times than buttered once. I do hate flummery, certainly.

She. "It's no use bothering me, Jack. I shall marry whom I please."

He. "That's all I'm asking you to do, my dear. You please me well enough!"

AN UNFORESEEN MATRIMONIAL CONTINGENCY

Angelina. "Did you ever see anything so wonderful as the likeness between old Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy, Edwin? One would think they were brother and sister, instead of husband and wife!"

Edwin. "Married people always grow like each other in time, darling. It's very touching and beautiful to behold!"

Angelina (not without anxiety). "Dear me! And is it invariably the case, my love?"

The Widow's Intended. "Well, Tommy, has your mother told you of my good fortune."

Tommy. "No. She only said she was going to marry you!"

Young Muddleigh, who has been out buying underwear for his personal use, purchases at the same establishment some flowers for his ladye-love—leaving a note to be enclosed. Imagine Young Muddleigh's horror, on returning to dress, to discover that the underwear had been sent with the note, and the flowers to him! Muddleigh discovered, repeating slowly to himself the contents of the note:—"Please wear these this evening, for my sake!"

"IS IT A FAILURE?"

Mamma (their last unmarried daughter having just accepted an offer). "Well, George, now the girls are all happily settled, I think we may consider ourselves fortunate, and that marriage isn't——"

Papa (a pessimist). "Um—'don't know! Four families to keep 'stead of one!"

SO FRIVOLOUS!

Wife. "Solomon, I have a bone to pick with you."

Solomon (flippantly) "With pleasure, my dear, so long as it's a funny bone!"

"HUSBANDS IN WAITING"

Stout Wife. "I shall never get through here, James. If you were half a man, you would lift me over!"

Husband. "If you were half a woman, my dear, it would be easier!"

"Was he very much cast down after he'd spoken to papa?"

"Yes. Three flights of stairs!"

"SCORED"

Little Wife. "Now, Fred dear, I'm ready."

Lazy Husband. "I'm awfully sorry, dear; but I must stay in, as I'm expecting a friend every minute."

Little Wife (sarcastically). "A friend every minute! Heavens, Fred! What a crowd of friends you'll have by the end of the day!"

DECIDEDLY PLEASANT

Genial Youth. "I say, Gubby, old chap, is this really true about your going to marry my sister Edie?"

Gubbins. "Yes, Tommy. It's all settled. But why do you ask?"

G. Y. "Oh! only because I shall have such a jolly slack time now! You know I've pulled off nearly all her engagements so far, only you're the first one who's been a real stayer!!"

He. "The joke was, both these girls were hopelessly in love with me, and I made them madly jealous of each other."

She. "I wonder you had the face to do it, Mr. Sparkins!"

"WE FELL OUT, MY WIFE AND I"

He. "That's absurd! Do you think I'm as big a fool as I look?"

She. "I think that if you aren't, you have a great deal to be thankful for!"

SUCH AN EXAMPLE

Wife (to husband, who has barked his shins violently against the bed, and is muttering something to himself). "Oh, Jack, how can you! Supposing baby were to hear you!"

She (after they have walked three miles without a word being spoken). "Aw say, John, tha'art very quoiet. Has nowt fur to say?"

He. "What mun aw say? Aw dunno know."

She. "Say that tha loves me."

He. "It's a'reet sayin' aw love thee, but aw dunno loike tellin' loies!"

Partner of his Joys (who has superintended the removal). "Well, dear, you haven't said how you like the new flat!"

WHAT TO WEAR ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.

(By a Confirmed and Cantankerous Celibate)

Married in white,

You have hooked him all right.

Married in grey,

He will ne'er get away.

Married in black,

He will wish himself back.

Married in red,

He will wish himself dead.

Married in green,

His true colour is seen.

Married in blue,

He will look it, not you.

Married in pearl,

He the distaff will twirl.

Married in yellow,

Poor fellow! Poor fellow!

Married in brown,

Down, down, derry down.

Married in pink,

To a slave he will sink.

Married in crimson,

He'll dangle your whims on.

Married in buff,

He will soon have enough.

Married in scarlet,

Poor victimised varlet!

Married in violet, purple, or puce,

It doesn't much matter, they all mean—the deuce!

A CASE OF GREAT INTEREST AT SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM

STUDY FROM LIFE

A ROMANCE OF ROAST DUCKS

"My darling, will you take a little of the—a—the stuffing?"

"I will, dear, if you do; but if you don't, I won't."

The Real Fall of Man.—Falling in love!

Qualifying a Sweeping Assertion.—Sophie (after hearing about Frank). "I declare I shall not believe a word a man says to me. They're all liars!" Beatrice. "For shame, Sophie!" Sophie (regretfully). "At least all the nice ones are!"

INGRATITUDE

Brown. "Why doesn't Walker stop to speak? Thought he knew you!"