Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, December 3, 1892 by Various


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Page 3

* * * * *

LADY GAY'S SELECTION.

_Mount Street, Berkeley Square._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

I am proud of being the "selection" referred to above, though, as a
matter of fact it was _I_ who "selected" GAY from the numerous sweet
young things submitted for my approval during the Season when I
was considered "_the_ parti"!--but on this point I maintain a noble
silence! In spite of the old Welsh proverb, "Oh, wad some Gay the
giftie gie us," &c. &c., I was a bit puzzled on reading GAY's letters,
at the similarity of names, but thought it only a coincidence, until
she was so upset by the one she read when abroad, that she confessed
everything, and asked my advice!--It's very strange how all these
clever women, when they get into a fix, apply for assistance to weak
"_man_!" eh? Now that flat-racing is over, we are "resting on our
oars" for a time--(that is literally true, for the country has been
mostly under water lately!)--but we shall shortly have a cut-in at
steeplechasing, when GAY will doubtless have some new experiences to
relate; meanwhile, allow me to subscribe myself--(I like to subscribe
to everything good)--Yours explanatorily,

(Lord) ARTHUR FLEETWOOD.

* * * * *

ALL ROUND THE FAIR.

NO. III.

IN THE "FINE ART" EXHIBITION.

_Rustic Art Patrons discovered applying their eyes to
peepholes, through which a motley collection of coloured
lithographs of the Crimean Campaign, faded stereoscopic-views,
Scriptural engravings, and daubed woodcuts from the
"Illustrated Police News," is arranged for their inspection._

_First Art Patron_ (_waiting for his turn at the first peephole_).
Look alive theer, GE-ARGE, ain't ye done squintin' at 'un yet?

_Ge-arge_ (_a local humorist_). 'Tis a rare old novelty, BEN, th'
latest from London, and naw mistake 'bout it!

_Ben_ (_with disappointment, as he succeeds to the peephole_). Why,
'tain't on'y ADAM an' EVE afoor th' Fall! that ain't so partickler
noo, as _I_ can see--Lar dear, they're a settin' nekked on a live
lion, and a nursin' o' rabbits! (_At the next hole_ ADAM _and_ EVE
_are represented "After the Fall," overwhelmed with confusion, while
the lion is stalking off scandalised, with a fine expression of lofty
moral indignation._) 'Ere they are _agen_! that theer lion thinks he's
played sofy to 'en long 'nough, seemin'ly!

_Ge-arge_ (_from a further peephole_). I say, BEN, 'ere's Mrs. PEARCEY
a murderin' Mrs. 'OGG down this 'un--we're a-gittin' _along_!

_Ben_ (_puzzled_). They must ha' skipped out a deal. I'm on'y at "CAIN
killin' ABEL!"

_Female Patron_ (_to Proprietor_). 'Ere, Master, I can't see nothen'
down 'ere--'tis all dark like!

_Proprietor._ Let _me_ 'ave a look! You shud put your 'ands so, each
side o' your eyes, and--(_He looks._) 'Um, it is _rayther_--but
what else do yer _expeck_? It's a "View o' Paris by Night," ain't
it--_that_'s all right!

OUTSIDE "PROFESSOR PUGMAN'S SPARRING SALOON."

_The Professor_ (_on a little platform, with a pair of Pupils_).
Now then, all you as are lovers o' the Noble and Manly Art o'
Self-Defence, step inside and see it illusterated in a scientific an'
fust-class manner! This (_introducing first Pupil, who rubs his nose
with dignity_) is 'OPPER of 'Olloway, the becoming nine-stun Champion.
This hother's BATTERS o' Bermondsey, open to fight any lad in England
at eight-stun four. Is there anyone among you willing to 'ave a round
or two with either on 'em fur a drink an' admission free?--if so,
now's his time to step forward--there's no waiting, mind yer?

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