_Dining-room, Apelles Club_

_Diner._ "Thomson, do the members ask for this wine?"

_Head Waiter (sotto voce)._ "Not twice, sir!"]

SPECIMENS OF MR. PUNCH'S SIGNATURES!

(_Fac-similes taken during the course of the evening._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

THIS IS BEFORE DINNER, 730. ATTESTED BY SEVERAL WITNESSES.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

THIS IS AFTER THE PUNCH a LA ROMAINE, ABOUT THE MIDDLE OF THE BANQUET.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

THIS IS WITH THE DESSERT.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

AFTER THE CLARET.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

AFTER THE CLARET _AND_ THE PORT.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

DURING THE CIGARS, WHISKEY AND WATER.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

1230. BEFORE LEAVING TABLE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Punch]

130. BEFORE GETTING INTO BED.

The above have been submitted to an eminent expert, who says he could almost swear they are the same hand-writing, but must come and dine with _Mr. P._, in order absolutely to verify them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A BAD ENDING.--"Well, William, what's become of Robert?"

"What, 'aven't you 'eard, sir?" "No! Not _defunct_, I hope!" "That's just exactly what he _'as_ done, sir, and walked off with heverything he could lay his 'ands on!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE

_Vegetarian Professor._ "No, madam, not even fish. I cannot sanction the destruction of life. These little creatures, for instance, were but yesterday swimming happily in the sea."

_Mrs. O'Laughlan._ "Oh but, Professor, just think it's the first time the poor little things have ever been really warm in their lives!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: FELICITOUS QUOTATION

"Oh, Robert, the grouse has been kept too long! I wonder you can eat it!"

"My dear, 'we needs must love the highest when we see it.'"

(_Guinevere._)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Little Boreham_ (_relating his Alpine adventures_).

"There I stood, the terrible abyss yawning at my feet----" _That Brute Brown._ "Was it yawning when you got there, or did it start after you arrived?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: At a dinner given by my Lord Broadacres to some of his tenants, curacoa is handed in a liqueur-gla.s.s to old Turnitops, who, swallowing it with much relish, says--"Oi zay, young man! Oi'll tak zum o' that in a moog!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRICE FOR AGE

_Mr. Green._ "You needn't be afraid of that gla.s.s of wine, uncle. It's thirty-four port, you know."

_Uncle._ "Thirty-four port!--Thirty-four fiddlesticks! It's no more thirty-four port than you are!"

_Mr. Green._ "It _is_ I can a.s.sure you! Indeed, it's _really thirty-six_; and _thirty-four if you return the bottles_!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLUNKEIANA

_Master._ "Thompson, I believe that I have repeatedly expressed an objection to being served with stale bread at dinner. How is it my wishes have not been attended to?"

_Thompson._ "Well, sir, I reely don't know what is to be done! It won't do to waste it, and we _can't_ eat it downstairs!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CONCLUSIVE