PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Volume 109, September 14, 1895.
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.
"A-hoy!"—A chance forany person desirous of escapingfrom the οἱ πολλοι, and makinghis home upon an island "allto himself." Hoy, one of thecelebrated Orkney group ofislands, is for sale. This is ahealthy spot, in fact it maynow be said to be most saleubrious.Information gleanedfrom the Liverpool Couriershows that "the island comprises40,000 acres, rises abruptly"—likethe angry heroof a novelette—"from the sea,consists of a mountain havingdifferent eminences or peaks"—thispiques one's curiosity—"isvery steep, and has a nobleand picturesque effect from allpoints of view." We trust itmay also have a beautifyingand ennobling effect upon thepurchaser. Besides all theseadvantages, it possesses a largepillar of rock, 300 feet high,known as "The Old Man ofHoy." The legend attachedto this promontory is as follows:—
There was an old party of Hoy,
Who in life couldn't find any joy,
So he sold all his stock,
Got transformed into rock,
Did this marvellous "broth of a bhoy."
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Old Gent (lately bitten with the Craze). "And that confoundedMan sold me the thing for a Safety!"
Best congratulations to theFirst Lord of the Treasury onhis happy idea of promoting ascheme for the presentationof a testimonial to old TomMorris, doyen of golf professionals,and keeper of theGreen of the Royal and AncientClub, at St. Andrews.An undeviating devotion ofsixty years to the interests ofthe Scotch sport has won forTom the thankful admirationof all lovers of the game, andit is sincerely to be hoped thatMr. Balfour's appeal will resultin a bunker—we mean abumper—testimonial to theGrand Old Golfic Gladiator.For the edification of a futuregeneration of golf devoteesthere should also be constructeda statuette of the veteran,
To stand in the Club smoking-room
Plain for all folk to see;
Tom Morris just about to "putt"
A ball across the Dee;
And underneath be written,
In letters all of gold,
How gloriously he kept the green
In the brave days of old.
Food for Reflection.—Readersof the Daily Telegraphhave become vegetarians.They are subsistingon a diet of lov(e)age.
THE INTERESTING CASE OF MR. BRIEFLESS.
I have been requested by a large number of the profession towhich I have the honour to belong, to bring a matter of some personalimportance before the public in an appropriate manner. Itseems to me that I cannot carry out this instruction more judiciouslythan by communicating with the Editor of a paper representing byuniversal consent the Bench, the Bar, and the Populace. I amassisted in this task—one of considerable delicacy—by a documentthat came into