d transacted it is, whatever jokes and ebullitions of
_bonhomie_ may form the running accompaniment to the work in hand. In
Mark Lemon's time the Dinner began at "six sharp," and in Shirley
Brooks's and Tom Taylor's a half-hour later; but when Mr. F. C. Burnand
took up the reins of power, the hour was advanced to seven o'clock, and
on its stroke the Staff are generally found in their places. From all
parts they come, just as their predecessors used to speed from Boulogne,
from Herne Hill, and from the Isle of Wight, so that their absence
should not be felt nor their assistance lacking at the Gathering of the
Clan. Sir John Tenniel comes from Maida Vale, most likely, or from some
spot near to London--which he has hardly quitted for a fortnight
together during the last forty years, save when, in 1878, he went to
Venice with Mr. Henry Silver and left Charles Keene _malgre lui_ as
cartoonist-in-chief. Mr. Sambourne arrives, perhaps, from a yachting
expedition or from the moors; Mr. du Maurier from his beloved Whitby or
from a lecturing tour; Mr. Lucy hurries in from the House of Commons;
Mr. Furniss, up to the time of his resignation, from some distant spot
where he "entertained" last evening, and whence he would expect to be
three hundred miles away on a similar errand on the morrow. But not for
some time past, it must be said in passing, had either Mr. du Maurier or
Mr. Furniss been so regular at the Table as in earlier days--Mr. Furniss
by reason of his touring, and Mr. du Maurier on account of the distance
of his home, and the evil effect of tobacco-smoke on his eyes and
nerves.

Then when dinner is over and coffee finished, and paper and pens brought
in--at half-past eight, as near as may be--the cigars come on and the
waiters go off (including at one time the crusted Burnap, an original
worthy of "Robert" himself); and not more rigidly was the Press excluded
from the Ministerial Whitebait Dinner in the good old times, than are
Cabinet Ministers interdicted from the Dinner of Mr. Punch to-day. Then
the Editor, who has been presiding, invites ideas and discussion on the
subject of the "big cut," as the cartoon is commonly called; and no two
men listen more eagerly to the replies--suggestions that may be
hazarded, or proposals dogmatically slapped down--than Mr. Burnand, who
is responsible for the subject, and Sir John Tenniel, whose duty it will
be to realise the conception. The latter makes few remarks; he waits,
refle