Never ask a policeman without scanning narrowly his features, nor, if sitting behind a 'bus-driver, omit to secure his profile. Interview every crossing-sweeper you pass. Organ-grinders, also, are fairly inexpensive material to work upon. All these common objects are readily accessible, and frequently prove perfect mines of character, if you only dig deep enough below the surface. But the earnest explorer will find the countenances of cabmen to be the most remunerative phreno-physiognomical studies. Never mind their remarks if you can enrich your note-book with some hitherto undiscovered trait of human nature, with the inner meaning of some mysterious wrinkle, or with the true poetry of a wayward wart. Return home happy if the day's achievements include the decipherment of a mole on a flower-girl's cheek, or the translation of some rare tint of colour-music on the nose of some loafer near a pub.
Do not be content with the stores of face-reading lore that have been already acquired. Each day fresh secrets should be revealed. For instance, it has only recently been ascertained that one freckle on the tip of the nose means a disposition to borrow money without returning it; that three pimples in a row across the forehead indicate unpunctuality and insubordination; or that a droop of the left eyelid signifies habitual impecuniosity. It is still a moot point whether a nose can be both Quixotic and witty, and how to read a promiscuous eyebrow when combined with a constant upper lip. These, and many other mysteries, are waiting to be laid bare by the amateur but ardent face delineator.
_Porter (to passenger)._ Where for? _Passenger._ Wye.
And Porter does not reply, "'Cos I want to know," but puts a label on passenger's portmanteau accordingly.
"AND I HOPE YOU'RE A MEMBER OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND?"
_Applicant for Situation as Pace boy._ "OH YES, MA'AM--_VERY_ HIGH!"]
[A Stanza on behalf of the testimonial now set on foot, and promoted by Mr. A. J. BALFOUR, to TOM MORRIS, the Grand Old Man of Golf.]
Tom the Golfer's a wonderful man, For though seventy-five, up to now, is his span, At hitting a ball or at laying a plan, He's a clipper is TOM the Golfer! He can play the game, when not laying new links. The Golf-world of a brave testimonial thinks, And _Punch_ inquires, with his choicest of winks, "Now, Golfing-world, what offer?"