Part 3

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A WAITER'S WARNING

"ENTOMOLOGY IN PARLIAMENT STREET.--Mr. Frank W. DUFREY, 55, Parliament Street, writes to the _Field_:--'It will interest your entomological readers to hear that a fine specimen of the death's-head hawk moth (_Acherontia atropos_) was taken in Parliament Street on Monday evening. It flew into the dining-room at the Red Lion Tavern, and was captured by one of the waiters, who was alarmed at its size and the peculiar noise it made. Apart from its being rather rubbed, it is a very good specimen of the largest of our lepidoptera, and is now in my possession.'"

"William, where's John? What, is he gone?" "Not gone away, sir. Sorry to say, sir; John ill a-bed, sir, Bad in 'is 'ed, sir. 'Ad a great fright, sir. Turned 'is 'air wite, sir. Last Monday night, sir." "Struck down with fear! How? Let me hear." "'Orrible thing, sir, Came on the wing sir; Window in through, sir, Suddently flew, sir, Into this room, sir, A shape from the tomb, sir. 'Twasn't a bat, sir; No, sir, not that, sir: Moth, sir, we thought, sir. But wen it was caught, sir, Huttered a shriek, sir, A scream, sir, a squeak, sir! Hinsect, you know, sir, Couldn't do so, sir. Wot should we find, sir, On its back, sir, be'ind, sir, Printed, exact, sir?-- A skull, sir,--a fact, sir! John gasped for breath, sir; Thought it was Death, sir-- Notice to quit, sir. John was that frit, sir, John 'ad a fit, sir-- Went a'most mad, sir. John very bad, sir; Better, bimeby, sir; 'Opes John won't die, sir. Doctor 'e said, sir, Moth, named death's 'ed, sir, In natteral 'istory, sir; Rare; but no mystery, sir: Honly a prize, sir, A catch in 'is heyes, sir, As a medical gent, sir, No call to repent, sir-- That's 'is belief, sir. A sirloin of beef, sir, Just up--very nice, sir. Bring you a slice, sir? Potatoes and greens, sir-- And any French beans, sir?"

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DRINKING SCENE OF THE FUTURE

(_In consequence of the Growing Demand for Lighter Liquors_)

SCENE--_The interior of a Dining-room. The ladies have just left, and the gentlemen are discussing their beverages._

_Smith._ I say, Brown, if it is not an impertinent question, where did you get that toast-and-water?

_Brown._ I thought you would be deceived! It was a cup, not the pure article! My butler is a first-rate hand at it. I will give you the recipe if you like.

_Smith._ Do. It was excellent. What _is_ the secret?

_Brown._ Something, I fancy, to do with watercress.

_Jones._ I say, Brown, that was really very nice sherbet. Turkish or Persian?

_Brown._ Neither. Came from the Stores. Home-made.

_Jones._ Well, it certainly was capital. I could have sworn that it had been manufactured east of the Levant.

_Brown._ More likely east of Temple Bar. And now shall we have a whitewash before we join the ladies?

_Six Guests._ No, thanks! Really not!

_Half-a-dozen more of the Company._ Really not! No, thanks!

_Brown._ Nonsense! (_Produces a pint bottle of lemonade._) Nonsense, I repeat! Look here, my boys. (_Locks door._) Not one of you fellows shall leave the room until you have finished _this_!

[_Draws cork of pint bottle, and distributes the lemonade amidst the good-natured protestations of the revellers. Scene closes in upon the temperance orgy._

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DINING AL FRESCO

(_Extract from an Earl's Courtier's Notebook_)

6 P.M.--Come down early, to get a table. Can't. All the tables booked a week in advance. Very angry. Manager says he'll see what can be done for me--later on. Fairly satisfied. He had better!

7 P.M.--In state of heat. Have a fair appetite. Ask for table. "What table?" "The one promised me--later on." "Very sorry, but they are all engaged." Awfully angry. Explain that I am a person of some importance. Can do the place a great deal of good if I do have a table, and _vice versâ_. Manager desolated. See everybody else stuffing, drinking, and enjoying themselves. How they can have the heart! And _I_ table-less! But, no matter, a time will come. I'll write to "the leading journal" and denounce everything and everybody.

7.15 P.M.--Explosively wrathful. At last! Ha! ha! Got a table. But at the back somewhere. Strong smell of cooking. Distant echo of a band. Exceedingly annoyed. Have tasted _hors d'oeuvres_. Sardines decent.

7.20 P.M.--_Bonne Femme_ soup good. Have ordered champagne cup. Still annoyed.

7.30 P.M.--Salmon mayonnaise distinctly excellent. Good idea to have cold dinner. Champagne cup well brewed. Don't notice the smell of cooking. Can hear the band. Nice band.

7.40 P.M.--_Pâté de fois gras en aspic._ Capital Cold joint. First-rate. Salad artistically mixed. Second champagne cup as good as first. After all, place of table not so bad.

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THE MENU A LA MODE

Come, Damon, since again we've met We'll feast right royally to-night, The groaning table shall be set With every seasonable delight! The luscious bivalve ... I forgot, The oyster is an arch-deceiver, And makes its eater's certain lot A bad attack of typhoid fever.

With soup, then, be it thick or clear, The banquet fitly may commence-- Alas, on second thoughts, I fear With soup as well we must dispense. The doctors urge that, in effect, Soup simply kills the thoughtless glutton. It's full of germs. I recollect They say the same of beef and mutton.

Yes, each variety of meat, As you remark, is much the same, And we're forbidden now to eat Fish, oysters, poultry, joint or game. But though a Nemesis each brings, The punishment, the doctors tell, is As nothing to the awful things Awaiting all who toy with jellies.

Cheese--that is not condemned with these Yet ample evidence we find To make us, Damon, look on cheese As simply poison to mankind; While those who may desire to pass Immediately o'er Charon's ferry, Have but to take a daily glass Of claret, hock, champagne or sherry.

And therefore, Damon, you and I, Who fain would live a year at least, Reluctantly must modify The scope of our projected feast; A charcoal biscuit we will share, Water (distilled, of course,) we'll swallow, Since this appears the only fare On which destruction will not follow!

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THE DIRGE OF THE DINER

_A Restore-Wrong Rhyme_

"_Attendance is charged in the bill!_" Delighted we sit down to dine; And order our food and our wine. The waiter is passing polite, We eat with a grand appetite Of dishes compounded with skill. The room is so cosy and light; The glass and the silver are bright; Our flag of defiance is furled, We seem all at peace with the world, And rest quite contented until---- Attendance is charged one and nine. We pay its collector a fine; And give to the waiter polite A tip he regards as his right And duty of ours to fulfil! The carver, too, looks for a fee; The man with our coat, so does he! The porter expects something more, Who calls us a cab at the door!---- "_Attendance is charged in the bill!_"

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THE ECONOMICS OF SMOKING

BY JOSEPH FUME.

The man who smokes half his cigar, and puts the remainder by, knows nothing about smoking.

The man who carries no cigar-case has no right to levy contributions on those who do.

Never buy a cigar at a chemist's, they are sure to remind you of their origin. I once knew a chemist, who also sold wine and cigars, and I am sure he could only have had one workshop for his three businesses, and that was his laboratory.

Mistrust the tobacco that is given in half-payment of a bill. Such dealers may be clever in drawing a bill, but it is rarely that their cigars are distinguished for being good "drawers."

The man who smokes with wine is quite capable of taking sugar with oysters.

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PROVERBS FOR TABLE

Set a thief to catch a thief: Think of this when eating beef.

All that glitters is not gold: Think of this when that beef's cold.

Harm is done by too much zeal: Think of this when eating veal.

Life's a jest, and all things show it: Think of this when drinking Moet.

Happiness flies Court for garret: Think of this when drinking claret.

Gold may oft be bought too dear: Think of this when drinking beer.

Many littles make a mickle: Think of this when eating pickle.

Silent fools may pass for wise: Think of this when eating rice.

Unto Rome conduct all roads: Think of this when eating toads.

Flog first fault: _principiis obsta_, Think of this when eating lobster.

While grass grows the horse may starve: Think of this when asked to carve.

Shake the tree when fruit is ripe: Think of this when eating tripe.

Fools build houses, wise men buy: Think of this when eating pie.

Pause, ere leaping in the dark: Think of this when eating lark.

Punctual pay gets willing loan: Think of _this_ when drinking Beaune.

Wisdom asks fruits, but Folly flowers: Think o' _this_ when eating cauliflowers.

Birds of a feather flock together: Think of this when the idiot of a cook has boiled the oysters in the sauce, and made them as tough as leather.

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SPRING-CLEANING.

"In Spring when woods are getting green," My wife begins the house to clean, And I am driven from this scene, Of scrub-land.

The mops and pails left on the stairs I come across, quite unawares, And break my shins and utter--prayers, For tub-land.

In clouds of dust I choke and cough, Such draughts! My hat I dare not doff, I'd go (if I were not a toff) To pub-land.

But--mum--I won't kick up a shine Nor of delight give any sign, But, quietly, I'm off to dine In Club-land.

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A SOAKER'S PARADISE.--Dropmore.

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A MONSTER MEETING.--A giant and a dwarf.

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POETICAL LICENCE.--A music-hall's.

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TURF REFORM.--Mowing the lawn.

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DISCLAIMER BY A DINER-OUT

Abolish party? Whose delight were greater Than mine? I hail the chance with rapture hearty. But oh! I _can't_ agree with the _Spectator_, Who'd do away with--gods!--the dinner party! No, let us compromise,--we'll all be winners,-- And firmly banish party from our dinners!

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SYMPATHY

(SCENE--_In front of Mrs. R.'s house_)

_Mrs. Ramsbotham_ (_paying Cabman_). You look all right to-day.

_Cabman._ Ah, mum! my looks don't pity me. I suffer from a tarpaulin liver.

_Mrs. R._ (_correcting_). A torpedo liver, you mean.

[_Cabman accepts the correction, and an extra shilling_]

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"CRAMMING."

_Affectionate Uncle._ "Glad to see you, Rupert. Now tell me all about it. What form are you in, old boy?"

_Nephew_ (_just returned from Harrow_). "Well, uncle, not so bad, I think. I can generally manage a couple of eggs, two sausages, or kidneys, some Dundee marmalade, and two cups of coffee for breakfast. I always have a little luncheon, any amount of roast beef or mutton for dinner, and I generally look in at the confectioner's in the afternoon, and invariably wind up with a good supper. What do you think of that?"

[_Disappointed and misunderstood uncle subsides, and thinks it best to make no comments._

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