[Ill.u.s.tration: BROWN AND JONES OVER THEIR WINE

_Jones._ "How would I take Cronstadt? With vigour and decision, nothing more easy. My dear Brown, look here. This table is the Baltic, very well. Now look--(_Jones places certain strawberries for the forts; the city of Cronstadt on this occasion only being represented by a plate of gooseberries at the back._) Here we are. The strawberries the forts: Cronstadt the gooseberries. Now a little vigour and decision! This spoon is the _Duke of Wellington_, three-decker, leading the van. We go in here, firing both broadsides at once, to destroy the forts to larboard and starboard; while at the same time our guns in the bows and stern-sheets smash the other forts before and behind. Very good. We are then in front of Cronstadt--the city of Cronstadt. We sh.e.l.l that, sir; sh.e.l.l it of course! Blow up the powder-magazines; capitulation ensues; the Russian fleet is in a blaze, and, my dear Brown, that is how _I_ would take Cronstadt----"

_Brown._ "----After dinner."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HEAVY

_Stranger_ (_just arrived at the City of Eastminster_). "What can I have for dinner, waiter?"

_Waiter._ "Anything you please, sir!"

_Stranger._ "What are you celebrated for here?"

_Waiter._ "Well, sir, there's the cathedral----!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HORRIBLE SUSPICION

_Old Gentleman._ "Oh, waiter, why is it that a dinner off the joint is five shillings, but if you only have made dishes and soup, it's two shillings and sixpence?"

_Waiter._ "That, sir, is on account of the very high price of butcher's meat just now, sir."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SELF-EXAMINATION

_Party_ (_slightly influenced_). "Queshion ish! Am I fit to go intodrawingroom? Letsh shee!--I can shay gloriush conshyshusn!--Have seen Brish inshychusion--all that shortothing--thatledo--here gosh!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: DURING THE CATTLE SHOW.--_Old Farmer Wuzzle_ (_reading the bill of fare_). "Dinners har lar cart! What does that mean, Polly?"

_Miss Wuzzle_ (_who has been to a fashionable boarding-school to be finished, who has been taught French and how "to spank the grand pianner" and who is never at a loss_). "Aller cart, father? Why, that means a small, simple dinner. If you want something heavy and first-rate, you order what they call a dinner waggon!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MARCH OF REFINEMENT," 1875.--_Brown_ (_behind the age, but hungry_). "Give me the bill of fare, waiter."

_Head Waiter._ "Beg pardon, sir?"

_Brown._ "The bill of fare."

_Head Waiter._ "The what, sir? O!--ah!--Yes!"--(_to subordinate_)--"Chawles, bring this--this--a--gen'leman--the _menoo_!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MELTING!"

_Stout Chairman_ (_who feels the fire close at his back rather oppressive_). "Waiter, I asked you to bring me a screen."

_Waiter._ "Master's very sorry, sir, but we ain't got no screen!"

_Stout Chairman._ "Then, for goodness' sake, tell the cook to send up the dripping-pan, and put it under me, quick!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I say, waiter, this salmon cutlet isn't half so good as the one I had here last week."

"Can't see why, sir. It's off the same fish!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "PLEASE TO REMEMBER THE WAITER"

"All right, sir! My fault!"]

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._