ROBERT IN A FOG!

Well, if we ain't a been and had a werry pretty dose of reel London
Fog lately, I, for one, shood like to kno when we did have one. As
for its orful effecks upon tempers, speshally female ones, Well,
it's about enuff to drive a pore Waiter, let alone a hard-workin,
middel-aged Husband, stark staring mad!

[Illustration]

However, thank goodness, I've got one werry grand xception, and he
reglar cheers me up with his constant good humer.

I need ardly say as it's my old Amerrycan friend, who has cum back to
the Grand Hotel again, jest for to see what a reel London Winter is
like, and he bears it all, fog and all, splendidly. He was jest in
time to see Lord MARE's Sho from one of our best front winders, and
if he didn't sit there and larf away as the pore soddened and soaked
persession parsed by, speshally at the Lord MARE's six gennelmen with
their padded carves and pink silk stockins, I never seed a gennelman
larf. "Why on earth, Mr. ROBERT," he says to me, "why don't they
have it in the bewtifool Summer, for it's reelly a very splendid
performunce?" To which I replied, rather smartly, becoz I was
naterally rayther cross, "Becoz it has allers bin held on the same
honnerd day since the rain of Lord Mare ALLWINE, who rained sewen
hunderd years ago." "And has probably rained ewer since," he larfingly
replied, as he went out.

He thinks London a fine place for Theaters, and went sumware amost