Then the First Gentleman in the World, who has appropriately been called the "pink," not to say the rose (of courtesy), recognised a well-known contributor to his pages. He gave this admirable type of a race that has its exponents in every country under the sun some excellent advice, and suggested that they might part company with mutual advantage. "My good friend," said _Mr. Punch_, "I am quite aware that you are in the habit of corresponding with an intimate known as 'CHARLIE.' Oblige me with a duplicate of your next letter, and it shall be immortalised." It will be seen that _Mr. Punch_ has kept his word. * * * * * [Illustration: SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.] * * * * * [Illustration:] 'ARRY IN SWITZERLAND. Dear CHARLIE,--You heard as I'd left good old England agen, I'll be bound. Not for Parry alone, mate, this time--I've bin doing the Reglar Swiss Round. Mong Blong, Mare de Glass, and all that, CHARLIE--guess it's a sight you'd enjoy To see 'ARRY, the Hislington Masher, togged out as a Merry Swiss Boy. 'Tis a bit of a stretch from the "Hangel," a jolly long journey by rail, But I made myself haffable like; I'd got hup on the toppingest scale; Shammy-hunter at Ashley's not in it with me, I can tell yer, old chap; And the way as the passengers stared at me showed I wos fair on the rap. Talk of hups and downs, CHARLIE! North Devon I found pooty steep, as you know, But wot's Lynton roads to the Halps, or the Torrs to that blessed Young Frow? I got 'andy with halpenstocks, CHARLIE, and never came _much_ of a spill; But I think, arter all, that, for comfort, I rayther prefer Primrose 'Ill. But that's _entry nous_, dont cher know; keep my pecker hup proper out 'ere. 'ARRY never let on to them Swiss as he felt on the swivel,--no fear! When I slipped down a bloomin' _crevassy_, I _did_ do a bit of a 'owl, On them glasheers, to keep your foot fair, you want claws, like a cat on the prowl. Got arf smothered in snow, and no kid, CHARLIE--Guide swore 'twas all my hown fault, Cos I would dance, and sing _too-ral-li-ety_, arter he'd hordered a halt. Awful gonophs, them Guides, and no herror; they don't know their place, not a mite, And I'm dashed if this cad didn't laugh (with the rest), 'cos I looked sich a sight. Father Chrismas not in it with me, CHARLIE--sort of big snowball on legs; And _cold_, CHARLIE? Flasks was no use, could ha' gurgled neat Irish in kegs. Still, I wosn't much 'urt, mate, thanks be--only needled a bit in my pride, And I soon got upsides with the party, and fair took it hout of that Guide.