Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer, Nigel Blower and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 93. November 5th 1887. THE LETTER-BAG OF TOBY, M.P. FROM AN INTENDING EMIGRANT. _Liverpool, Saturday Noon._ [Illustration:] DEAR TOBY, My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea, But before I go, TO-BEE, I will write a line to thee. I am here to join the bark aforesaid, which will presently convey JOSEPH and his fortunes to the United States. As far as one can judge from the Press news telegraphed here, the reception that awaits me is not very cordial. I have all my life been conscious of a tendency to rub people down the wrong way. Unhappily the consciousness is borne in upon me only after the evil is effected. No succession of experience has effect upon my conduct. HARTINGTON and I are pretty good friends now, but I daresay you will remember the night, now a dozen years dead, when I rose from a seat below the Gangway in the House of Commons and, amid frantic cheers from the little Radical Party of which I was then a humble ornament, denounced him as "_late_ the Leader of the Liberal Party." The Markiss is now my friend and ally, and I might almost say patron. The time is too short for me to recall a tithe of the nasty things I have said about him and others who toil not, neither do they spin. With GLADSTONE the process is reversed, but in the end is much the same. I began by adulating him, and now no one can say that that is my precise attitude towards him.