PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 99. August 2, 1890. [Illustration: A "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDS. _Ill-used Husband_ (_under the Bed_). "AYE! YE MAY CRACK ME, AND YE MAY THRASH ME, BUT YE CANNA BREAK MY MANLY SPERRIT. I'LL NA COME OOT!!"] * * * * * PUNCH TO THE SECOND BATTALION. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"--JUVENAL. You're off, boys, to Bermuda (_Like_ "the Bermoothes," "vexed"). The Guards rebel? _Proh pudor!_ What next--and next--and next? Who'll guard the Guards, if they guard not The fame they should revere? Fie on the row, row, row, row, Of the British Grenadier! Your _Punch_ is sorry for you, And for these lads "in quod;" But Discipline's a parent That _must_ not spare the rod. May you right soon redeem your name, And no more may _Punch_ hear Of the row, row, row, row, row, row, Of the British Grenadier! _If_ you have been o'er-worried By ultra-Martinet; Into unwisdom hurried, Be sure Bull won't forget. But England's Redcoats must _not_ ape The Hyde Park howl, that's clear; So no more row, row, row, row, From the British Grenadier! * * * * * ROBERT'S AMERICAN ACQUAINTANCE. My akwaintance among eminent selebraties seems to be rapidly encreasing. Within what _Amlet_ calls a week, a little week, after my larst intervue with the emenent young Swell as amost lost his art to the pretty Bridesmade, I have been onored with the most cordial notice of a werry emenent Amerrycane, who cums to Lundon wunce ewery year, and makes a good long stay, and allus cums to one or other of our Grand Otels. He says he's taken quite a fansy to me, and for this most singler reason. He says as I'm the ony Englishman as he has ewer known who can allus giv a answer rite off to ewery question as he arsks me! So much so, that he says as how as I ort to be apinted the Guide, Feelosofer, and Frend of ewery one of the many Wisiters as we allus has a staying here!