_J. M'Carthy_ (_with dim recollection of Mr. Penley as the "Rev. Robert Spalding"_). "DO YOU KNOW, TIMOTHY, IF YOU GO ON LIKE THIS, I SHALL HAVE TO GET _VERY CROSS_ WITH YOU; I SHALL REALLY HAVE TO GIVE YOU A _GOOD HARD KNOCK!_" * * * * * HARRY ON 'ARRY. ["There is no doubt whatever that a large number of Englishmen abroad conduct themselves in a manner which brings discredit on our country.... Such demonstrations, indeed, are taken to mean that our countrymen desire thereby to show their consciousness of superiority over foreigners.... We do not want "HARRYS" to disgrace us, no matter whether the "trippers" ride in first, second, or third-class carriages." _The "Echo" on "English Tourists Abroad."_] Dear BERTIE,--I _have_ got the needle, and got it exceedingly sharp. This 'ARRY--I mean the cad-cockney well known to "the 'Eath and the 'Arp"-- Is becomin' no end of a nuisance all round; but I think you'll agree It is playin' it pretty low down when they mix up that mongrel with me! One would think the dropped aitch and apostrophe ought to have labelled _that_ brand, Which the Comics, in picture and patter, have scattered all over the land; But surely some new Trades Mark Act must be wanted exceedingly bad When HARRY, the travellin' Briton, is jumbled with 'ARRY the Cad. Just glance at the cutting enclosed. Now I travel, in silks, as you know, And Paris and Lyons to me are familiar as Bradford or Bow. But a gent _is_ a gent, though in trade, and abroad just as much as at home, And the manners that pass in Pall Mall _ought_ to do for Berlin or for Rome! I'm sick, my dear fellow, of readin' about British Cads on the trip, And the way that they rough-up the foreigners. Every French barber or snip, With a back that's all hinges and angles, will read us a lesson on form, And the penny-a-liners at home back him up, and we--bow to the storm! It's rot, and there's no other word for it! _I_ mean rebellin' for one. All this talk about 'Arries Abroad, which the ink-slingers think such prime fun, Is all unpatriotic knock-under, poor tame cosmopolitan cant. And as much a true bill as the chat of that sour Mrs. ORMISTON CHANT. If there's anythin' gives me the hump, it is hearin' Old England run down; And your Rads, and your Cads, and your Cocktails, all haters of Class and the Crown, Are eternally bastin' JOHN BULL on his bullyin' airs and stiff back. O it gives me the very go-nimble to hear their contemptible clack! They charge us with bounce and bad manners, with trottin' around in queer togs, With chaffin' the waiters at _cafés_, and treatin' the porters like dogs. They say we raise shines in their churches, and mock their processions and priests; In fact, if you'd only believe them you'd class us as bullies and beasts.