ed,
together with odd papers in the form of letters, especially on
pseudo-scientific lines. All these poems were collected into a volume
entitled "Ballads from _Punch_" in which perhaps the most striking are
that "To my Hairdresser," and the irresistibly comic satire on modern
ordnance, in which during a naval battle, after all the fighting has
been done by ramming, "the last stern order of the brave" is whispered
through the ship: "We're going to fire the guns!!" This desperate course
is taken and described--the air grows thick and dark with broken
breech, flying tube, and disrupted armour-plate, and when all was over--

"... They punished the seven survivors
For wasting the ordnance stores."

[Illustration: F. ANSTEY.
(_From a Photograph by Messrs. Bassano, Limited._)]

Mr. Anstey (Guthrie) was already famous for his little series of
successful books, "Vice Versa," "The Giant's Robe," "The Tinted Venus,"
"The Black Poodle," and "A Fallen Idol," when he was invited to
contribute to _Punch_. In each and all of these stories there had been a
clear and original idea, worked out with ingenuity and invested with
rich and delicate humour. Their author was clearly a man for _Punch_. So
thought Mr. Burnand, and Mr. Anstey shared the opinion. On November 4th,
1885, therefore, appeared his first contribution "Faux et Preterea
Nihil." His work was consistently good, and at the end of 1886 he was
called to the Table, taking his place and eating his first Dinner in
January, 1887.

Mr. Anstey's writings attracted attention from the beginning, and in
their reprinted form have been no less successful--the truest test of
quality. Among the most delightful of these was the "Model Music Hall
Songs"--songs and dramas _virginibus puerisque_, adapted to the
requirements of the members of the London County Council which sought
out and found indecency in a marionette's pursuit of a butterfly. The
idea opened up to Mr. Anstey a comic vista, which he has developed for
our delectation. The songs and dances, with their words and directions,
are for the most part screamingly funny, consisting partly in the
perfectly realised absurdity and inanity of the performance, and partly
in that quality of absolute truthfulness to life which we are forced to
realise in the presentation of them. Laughter is often produced by the
mere faithfulness of an imitation, whether the thing copied is funny or
not. Simple mimicry has the power to make us lau