PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 101. October 10, 1891. [Illustration: THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE. THE DREAM OF A (PNEUMATIC) TYRO.] * * * * * ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS. (_A DIRGE AT THE ZOO._) ["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such a representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the death of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."--_Daily News_.] Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang, Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang. Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge, Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for "George." A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console, For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole, One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small, (Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,") Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo, And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo! "Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell! Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell! Only one thought can cheer us in the least; "No doubt the stock will shortly be increased." Thanks, _Daily News_! Wipe, childhood, the wet eye, And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh! * * * * * CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.--"Present alms!" * * * * * OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER! [Illustration: A Native Hoister.] He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name, No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game. The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster? A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow, Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how. At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them, And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them." Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said, "So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed? For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason. I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season." The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see, He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree! It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction, You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action." Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear, "Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere? I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely, So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely."