Punch, or The London Charivari

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'ARRY IN VENICE.

[Illustration]

DEAR CHARLIE,--'Ow 'ops it, my 'earty? Yours truly's still stived up in Town. Won't run to a 'oliday yet, mate. I'm longing to lay on the brown By a blow from the briny, but, bless yer, things now is as bad as they're made. Hinfluenzas, Helections, and cetrer, has bloomin' nigh bunnicked up Trade.

My screw's bin cut down by a dollar; along of 'ard times, sez our bloke. I did mean doin' It'ly this year; but sez Luck, "Oh, go 'ome and eat coke!" Leastways, that's as I hunderstand 'er. A narsty one, Luck, and no kid; Always gives yer the rough of 'er tongue when you're quisby, or short of a quid.

When I 'eard about Venice in London, I thinks to myself, mate, thinks I, 'Ere's a 'ol