"TWAS MERRY IN (ST. JAMES'S) HALL." OUR ever fresh "GEE GEE," 'yclept GEORGE GROSSMITH, came out strong last Monday at St. James's Hall. for Man and GEE GEE." Question whether the American Girl "Good entertainment

will quite relish her portrait, as painted by the facetious GEE GEE. say that is this the English Girl to the life. Hall was crammed, However, when in the U. S., GEE GEE is perfectly welcome to with tambourine and piano accompaniment, is something of and GEE GEE "Kicking up behind and afore," in his final dance,

beauty, and a joy for ever, which will be remembered by all who saw, heard, and applauded to the echo. But O how hot!! Can't St. James's Hall be ventilated better than it now is? And cannot the sounds of other shows that are going on be excluded? The birds outside, too, were having an entertainment of their own, and were enjoying it most chirpily. However, GEE GEE didn't seem to hear them, or to hear anything except the applause, which was occasionally deafening.

TO A FASHION-PLATE BELLE (?) (By a Country Querist.)

LADY, I've seen from week to week

Your form in many a Fashion JournalAre you a mad dress-maker's "freak," Or else the "Feminine Eternal"?

Oh, do the girls in London town

(I wonder) take you for their model, And try, despite a bell-shaped gown, On microscopic feet to toddle?

Pray, have they all got waists like yours, A thing of six or seven inches ? Forgive me, if the question bores,

But don't you find that girdle pinches ?

Why that unvarying arch of wrist,
And curl of fore and little fingers?

Is it prescribed by your modiste.

Or have you cramp that ever lingers ?

If all Belgravian belles conclude
That, copying you, they do their duty,
I'll say (ev'n though it's somewhat rude),
Give me the rustic style of beauty!

RACES IN PARIS.

WHEN the Grand Prix comes you see Very well

Races in the court of the

Grand Hotel.

Germans! See their widespread backs
When they turn;

They consider clothes like sacks
Wunderschön!

English dressed in shooting suits,

Shabby too. "Dashed if I can speak these brutes' Parley voo!"

Greek, Italian, Portuguese,
Hottentot;
On the terrasse here one sees
All the lot.

HIGGLEDY PIGGLEDY.-The G. Y. G., or Grand Young GARDNER, Minister of Agriculture, in answer to a deputation, said "he wished to stamp out swine-fever." How will he do it? It sounds like extra taxation. The G. Y. G. will have to consult the P. M. G. as to how many "stamps" he can send "out" for this particular purpose. Are they to be penny or halfpenny stamps ?

SHAKESPEARIAN QUOTATION (adapted to new rule as to Colonial titles).-"So are we all (when we visit the Mother Country), all Honourable Men."

THE BLACK-AND-WHITE KNIGHT. ["Look, here comes good Sir JOHN!"-Second part of King Henry the Fourth, Act III., Sc. 2. "JAKIDES, with my familiars; JOHN, with my brothers and sisters (in Art); and Sir JOHN, with all Europe."-Ditto, Act II., Sc. 2 (very slightly altered). "Sir JOHN, heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs."-Ditto, Act III., Sc. 2.]

AIR-" Sir John Barleycorn."

I SING of a Knight all other Knights excelling,
New-honoured is the name of Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!
Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!

Chorus (fortissimo).

In high princely hall or in citizen's dwelling,

Art knows no nobler friend than Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!
Long at our Board may Punch with pride

Sir JOHN see smiling at his side.

Brave Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL! Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!

Forty year, and more, at the Table Round, we've boasted
England's later LAUNCELOT in JOHN TEN-NI-EL!
JOHN TEN-NI-EL!

Chorus.
Many a time and oft has the Table gaily toasted
Art's pride (and ours') in true JOHN TEN-NI-EL!
Now that fresh honours bud with Spring,

We stand and shout in loyal ring,

Good Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!

Sir JOHN TEN-NI-EL!

THE BOW-WOW DAYS.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,-Surely there ought to be a Society for the Prevention of Doing Done-to-Death Ditties into Dance Music! An S.P.D.D.D.D.D.M. would come in remarkably handy just now, for I notice-oh, a million horrors!-that someone has just committed "The Bow-Wow Polka."

The "Bow-Wow" having "caught on" at the Gaiety Theatre and the Music-halls, would it not be adding a sweet completeness to circumstances if the "Bow-Wow," or some Bow-Wow, "caught on " the composer of the polka ? Perhaps TOBY would oblige ?

Yours, &c., A WOULD-BE (but can't be, because the streetorgans won't let me be) JOURNALIST. P.S.-I don't think I shall complain if Daddy will not buy me a Bow-Wow Polka!

MRS. R. ON AGRICULTURAL DISTRESS.-Mrs. RAM, who has been making a railway jaunt, is much struck by the appearance in many fields and pastures of large boards, on which stands boldly printed the legend," Large Lighthouse Pills." "These poor farmers!" she says. "It shows how repressed agriculture is when they take to planting out pills. I suppose, by-and-by, if times don't mend, they'll be boring for Black Draughts."

LUCKY.-The CESAREWITCH is coming to England for the Royal Wedding. As all the Good Fairies are sure to be present, it is a happy omen that the only Witch is favourable.

ALL ROUND THE "MAY" WEEK AT CAMBRIDGE.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,-Obedient to the least hint of a command from his Master, your faithful slave and humble representative has been enjoying himself, and going it. If you didn't mean me to go it, you should have said so. At any rate you can't deny that you said Go." My own intelligence supplied the rest; your bankers will, I hope, furnish the harmless necessary cash for the payment of the liabilities I have incurred in your service. Let me first correct a few misconceptions that seem to prevail with regard to Cambridge. I will tabulate them, and deal with them seriatim.

(1) That Cambridge is a place designed for studious pursuits. This is manifestly absurd. I did not hear a single lecture; and a young man, whom I asked about this, said, There aren't any lectures now"; which leads me to believe that there may have been lectures fifty years ago, but that they have since been abolished. Besides, if Cambridge were a studious place, its inhabitants would be fond of Examinations. But they are not. The same young man of whom I have already spoken, used the most wicked and awful language about Examinations and Examiners. "By gum," he remarked, "I should like to feed my Examiners on corked champagne, tinned salmon, and dog-biscuits, for setting such beastly papers.' Finally, I may state that, during the four or five days I spent in Cambridge, everybody spoke of dances, boat-races, cricket-matches, concerts, amateur theatricals, and so forth, as if there was nothing else to think about in Cambridge. At any rate I am sure nobody did think of anything else all the time I was there.

(2) That Cambridge Colleges are inhabited entirely by undergraduates and dons.

This is fantastic nonsense. I did see a considerable number of undergraduates, it is true; but they were all accompanied by sisters and cousins, who seemed to breakfast, lunch, and dine in college every day. This must be very distracting, though it is a pretty sight, I confess, on one of these bright June afternoons, to watch the slim figures and the dainty dresses of these charmers straying through the beautiful leafy avenues in the "backs," or hanging over the grey old bridges that span the slow stream of the Cam. (3) That boys (at Cambridge) will be boys.

My dear Sir, they won't; they will be, and are, men-at least, they always speak of themselves as men." My young host said to me on the morning of my arrival, "I've asked two or three fellows to meet you at lunch. There'll be THOMSON, and JACKSON, and BANHAM. BANHAM's one of the best men we've got." I expected, of course, to meet three fellows of the College. At half-past one there came a knock at the door, and there entered a boy just turned eighteen, I should say, with a modest manner and the complexion of a girl. This was BANHAM, and at Cambridge BANHAM, bless him, is a man. I could extend this list of fallacies, but I pause. The rest of my notes on the manners and customs of Cambridge will be found in the appended scraps of dialogue, which are taken, I may state, from the living voice.

AT THE STATION.

A train from London has just arrived. The platform is crowded with undergraduates in straw hats and flannel suits, with fathers, mothers, sisters, &c., and with porters endeavouring to trundle immense loads of feminine luggage along.

Undergraduate (to his friend). There they are. The Mater's

waving her handkerchief to me. By Jove! that porter's just taken the Governor in the bend of the knee with a portmanteau. I must get at them. Now, JACK, you stop here, and I'll fetch 'em along. [Struggles towards them. His Mother (to a daughter). There's TOM, MARY; doesn't he look handsome? I declare he's grown quite an inch! Now then, where's my basket with his new banner-screen that I've worked for him, and, oh MARY, where have you put my little bag? [And so forth.

The Father (who has just been "taken in the bend of the knee"). Do come along, SARAH. What on earth is the use of standing here all day? If you would only condescend to travel without ten thousand small parcels, we might get on-ow, ow! [Is "taken" again. Porter. By your leave, Sir.

Father. Infernally clumsy. [Undergraduate-Son arrives panting. Under. Well, here you are, by Jove! I am glad you've come. (Kisses them all round in public. N.B.-This is always done at the station.) Come along as quick as you can. We've got lots to do. Lunch in my rooms, then I'll trot you round the place, then to the boat-races, then dinner with PACKWELL. There he is, I'll introduce you. (Introductions. More collisions with porters and other men's people, apologies. Slow progress towards exit.) Then we'll go to the A. D. C., and after that there's a ball. Do you think you can stand it all, MARY?

Sister. Of course, Toм. What a silly question. I mean to go to all the dances, and all the boat-races, and all the concerts, and everything. Under. The dickens you do. Come on then, we'd better make a start.

[They disappear, together with PACKWELL, who feels himself to
be a fifth wheel to the coach, and is reduced to silence.
AT THE BOAT-RACES.

Ditton Corner. Pleasure-boats packed together along the bank. On the meadow a parti-coloured crowd of Undergraduates and their "people" on foot, and in carriages. A bumping race has just started.

A Sister. Oh, I heard the gun so plainly. When, when will they be here? I'm so nervous. HARRY must make his bump just here. I'll never forgive him if he doesn't. There they come! No they don't. Oh, I wish they'd make haste. Can't you go and hurry them up, JACK? How slow they are! Now, JACK, tell me again which is First Trinity, and which is Third Trinity, and where is Second Trinity, and what does Lady MARGARET mean, and how do they arrange which is to bump which?

[Yells, rattles, and fog-horns-the boats approach. A Brother. Look there-we're right on top of them! (Screams frantically.) Well rowed, you men, well rowed! Keep it long, swing, swing! Now then! Great SCOTT! the cox has made a shot, and missed! [And so forth. A Mother. Why do they all row with bare legs? Oh, there's HARRY. His boat will collide with the other boat, I'm sure. (Shouts to HARRY.) Do take care, HARRY, there'll be a collision! Oh dear, oh dear, he can't hear me! There! I knew it would happen. Oh, HARRY, do put something round your neck, now that you've stopped.

Cantab. Undergrad. in Cap and Gown. "Artis Causâ," A.D.C.

A Father (to another Father). Ah, my boy, this is like old times, isn't it? Do you remember that year when you and I were rowing stroke and six of our crew? That was the best crew I ever saw. There's no rowing like that nowadays. Great time we had of it, too, at the bump-supper. I met TANFIELD, our old cox, this very morning in Trinity. He's a Parson somewhere in Essex; looked quite old, and as grey as a badger. I wonder if he remembers what he said to the Proctor that night? Well, well. [And so forth. AT THE AMATEUR DRAMATIC CLUB. (The Undergraduates are acting an Operetta.)

A Cousin (to her Undergraduate Cousin in the Stalls). How well they sing!-and do you really mean to tell me that girl in the Alsatian dress is a man?

Undergraduate. Yes, he's a man right enough. Not badly made up, is he? Cousin. Why she's quite lovely. Tox, it's not true, you 're

Undergraduate. Upon my honour, I'm not rotting. It is really a man. They're all men.

Cousin. Well, perhaps the hands are a little large. Undergraduate. You'll meet him at lunch to-morrow, and then you can see for yourself.

Cousin. Who's that funny little man with a hooked nose? Undergraduate. It's the same chap who acted the Servant Girl in the first piece. He's a ripping good actor, isn't he? Cousin. Toм, I'll never believe another word you say.

[And so on, with charming incredulity.
IN THE SENATE HOUSE.
(During the ceremony of conferring
honorary degrees.)

The Public Orator (introducing a distinguished body of D.C.L.'s and Mus. Docs.). Domine Cancellarie

Voice from the Gallery. Now construe. [Roars of laughter. Disturbance. The Public Orator. -virum illustrissimum

Voice from the Gallery. SANDYS, you mustn't use a crib. [More roars. The Public Orator.artis musica existimator quam subtilis exstitit.

Voice from the Gallery. SANDYs, that's your tenth false quantity. [More roars. [The eminent Musicians, CAMILLE SAINTSAENS, MAX BRUCH, ARRIGO BoÏro, and ILTITSCH TSCHAIKOWSKY, are introduced.

A Mother (to her Son). What very funny names.

The Son. Yes; I could do the whole in four sneezes.

Mother. What made them call him
ARRIGO? I never heard such a name.
Now HARRY is a sensible name, but AR-
RIGO-well, there!
Voice from the
SHAKEMOFFSKI.

Cantab. Graduate, not "coloured." [Words fail her. "plain," but Gallery. Good old M.A.harajah of Bhaougar, "Honoris Causâ," L.L D. [Roars of laughter. There, Mr. Punch, are a few observations on Cambridge. You Yours to a turn, are at liberty to publish them. A VAGRANT.

JUST FOR THE FUN OF THE THING.
WHO asks what's become of the Irishman's fun ?
What's gone with Hibernian humour?

Sir BOYLE ROCHE & Co. are completely outdone
By the aid of Row, "Rot," and-say Rumour!
A mystery dark as the tenebrous veil

That covered the features of ISIS,

Is Hibernian fun. To make enemies rail
At the crux of a National Crisis;
To hearten old foes, in the wheel put a spoke
Of new friends, after six years of struggle,
Would seem-to a Saxon-"too much of a joke,"
To the Celt 'tis a humorous juggle.
When things look a-squiff to ride rusty and tiff,
About-nothing that's valid or visible,

Is conduct a Briton would scout in a jiff;
To PAT 'tis a joke, vastly risible.

Withdraw, without reason? What fun, bhoys, in that,
After sessions deep drowned in fierce jaw all!!!
But Och! there's a far foiner joke, by St. PAT,
Which is to withdraw your withdrawal!

No good end is served, and much mischief is done ?

By the powers ye 're right, bhoys! But-think of the Fun!!!

A NEW ARTHURIAN LEGEND.-Mr. Punch was very shocked to see on contents bill of morning paper, "Mr. BALFOUR on the Bust." HomeRule Bill responsible for a good deal, but nothing quite so bad as this. Where had he been on the Bust? Had he tried to out-AMBROSE AMBROSE? Or what ? Latest intelligence says that it has something to do with the W. H. SMITH Memorial!

MATHEMATICAL HONOURS AT CAMBRIDGE.-Learning does not make the student effeminate. The Senior Wrangler this year is MANLEY. Nor does extreme youth bar the way to honours, as the Twelfth Wrangler is a CHILD!

THE VIRTUE OF RESIGNATION.-Quite clear that the Member for Kerry wanted to resign because he thought that, with the Home-Rule Bill"going strong," there would be no need of a SEXTON.

RIVERSIDE RIDDLE.-When is a man likely to go to Richmond for dinner?-When he's in Kew.

AFTER THE BANQUETS ARE OVER.

TOMMY ATKINS'S TRIBUTE TO LORD ROBERTS.

(A New Barrack-room Ballad, with Apologies to Tommy's own Especial Poet-Laureate).

["I will only say that the main object of the various reforms which I have ventured to advocate is to make life in the Army more attractive, and to fill the ranks with men of good physique and character. This I would accomplish by abolishing restrictions, which I believe to be beneficial neither to the soldier nor to the State, and by making military life acceptable to the classes from which it is most advantageous that our recruits should be drawn."Lord Roberts of Candahar, V.Č., at the Mansion House.]

I WOSN'T at the Munching 'Ouse to grub, nor yet to cheer;
The Civic waiters might ha' said, "We don't sarve privits 'ere!"
But TOMMY ain't behind the Toffs in welcoming Lord "BOBS",
Back 'ome onst more to England from the toughest of tough jobs.
O it's "ROBERTS 'ere, and ROBERTS there, and TOMMY keep away;"
But we read our penny papers, and we've read your little say;
We've read your little say, my BOBS," your clear, straight-

spoken say,

66

And it's Thank you, 'BOBS,'

soldiers' way!"

66

sez TOMMY, "for you know the

I was with you at Candahar, a middlin' spell ago,

And I know the bloomin' Afghan, and 'e ain't a pleasant foe,

Geoffrey. OH!-DOES MUMMY KNOW?"

We soldiers-axing pardon, "BOBs," for coupling high and low,-
Come so 'andy when we're wanted; when we ain't-well we may go!
It's TOMMY this and TOMMY that (as Mister KIPLING sings,)
But when 'e "lags superfluous they don't want 'im at the wings.
The "weteran's" mighty useful to sing songs about, and such.
But they ain't so spry at keeping heye on 'im and 'is "Old Dutch."
"We aren't no thin red 'eroes," as the Balladist remarks,
But flesh and blood, wot wants our food, a 'ome, and cashual
"larks;"

To pile red-tape "Restrictions," as you pooty squarely 'int,
Ain't the way to fill the ranks, "BOBS;" that's as plain-to you-
as print.
O it's TOMMY this and TOMMY that; but ToмMY pipeclay'd smart,
Waist-braced and shoulder-padded, has a stummick and a 'eart;
And to "make the life acceptable" to " young recruities"-yus!-
You've 'it the bull in once, Lord "BOBS," with neither fudge nor
fuss!

So 'ere's wishin' of you luck, Lord "BOBS," long life, and a 'ome

billet

To do honour to the country, and the 'ero as will fill it.
Arter the Banquets and the Big Bow-Wows are over, "BOBS,"
That question's left; not 'ow to feed, but fit us with square
jobs!

O, it's ROBERTS 'ere, and ROBERTS there, all over the dashed shop; But that name, Sir, spells a great career, wich BULL won't want to stop;

Though you ain't the sort of 'ero that they 'owl of at the 'All.
For it's ROBERTS 'ere, and ROBERTS there, from Cawnpore to Cabul,
And now they're feedin' of you, and they well may feed you-full!
If you aint our "Only Gen'ral," you aint fur from bein' our best.
Long may you live, with many a chance to put that to the test!

For you're far too fine and large, Lord "BOBs," and far too brisk and young,

see,

Wants to drink the 'ealth of Gen'ral "BOBS"-with a rousing "Three times three!"

[In which, with Mr. ATKINS's permission, Mr. Punch most heartily joins.

BLACK VIEWS OF LIFE.-These must be taken by explorers for coal-(awful bores!)-who are for ever in search of "the seamy