All the Shutmouth doctors are starving.
Yours, THE MAYOR OF SHUTMOUTH.
P.S.--Ought not something to be done to check the mortality at
Curdsmouth? It is disgraceful!
* * * * *
TO THE RIGHT WHEEL, BARROW!
CAINE'S action shakes the Unionists' dominion;
Against it piteous appeals seem vain;
But 'tis, in his late colleagues' pained opinion,
_Not_ "the nice conduct of a clouded CAINE!"
* * * * *
"THE SEA! THE SEA!"
A BUSINESS-LIKE BALLAD.
(_PENNED BY MR. PUNCH ON BEHALF OF "NOBODY'S BOYS."_)
"We propose soon to take our rescued Street-Arabs for
'A Fortnight's Holiday under Canvas'--_by the sea, if
possible."--Appeal of Mr. J.W.C. Fegan, of the Boys'
Home, Southwark_.
[Illustration]
_Thalatta! Thalatta_! Not XENOPHON'S Greeks, O benevolent Public, but
"Nobody's Boys,"
Wild Arabs of London, by tenderness tamed, at the sight of the sea vent
exuberant joys
In vociferous shoutings! Imagine the rapture of wrecks from the gutter
and waifs from the slum,
When first on their ears falls the jubilant thrill of the sky-soaring
lark, or the wild bee's low hum!
Imagine the pleasure of plunging at will into June's leafy copses of
hazel and lime,
Of scudding through acres of grasses knee-high, and of snuffing the
fragrance of clover and thyme.
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