Two tablespoonsful alcohol, Two tablespoonsful flour of sulphur, Two tablespoonsful castor oil, One pint boiling water.
"Put in bottle, shake well and allow it to stand three days before using. Rub well into the scalp every night.
"Here it is, and I trust soon to receive the pen and ink sketch in proof of its unrivalled success.
"Very sincerely, "----" "Brooklyn, "April 20th, 1892."
I suppose my benefactress, if I disclosed her name, would be worried to death by the multitudinous proprietors of shiny-surfaced "domes of thought." Notice she calls me a furnace! Too suggestive of the sulphur! alcohol!! boiling water!!!
I must confess that it was with some trepidation I accepted an invitation to a reception of the Twelfth Night Club of New York--a club for ladies only, which invites one guest, a man, once a month--no other member of male sex is allowed within the precincts of the club. I survived. Next day the papers announced the fact under the following characteristic American headlines:--
CARICATURIST TALKS TO TWELFTH NIGHT WOMEN.
ROTUND ENGLISHMAN TELLS HIS EXPERIENCES IN HIS BREEZY WAY.
[Illustration: I AM ENTERTAINED AT THE TWELFTH NIGHT CLUB.]
I was pleased to read that the lady reporter considered that I "bore the courtesies with the grace of a well-bred Englishman and with less embarrassment than the average man evinces at being the only one of his sex present upon these occasions(!). According to one of the iron bound rules of this club the guest of honour is the only man admitted, and as such Mr. Furniss was received with enthusiasm. If he could have projected his astral body to the other end of the room, and from there have sketched himself as he turned off autographs to the pleading group of women, it would not have made the least funny picture in his collection."
I agree in this latter part, for the whole affair struck me as intensely funny, and not at all appalling--in fact, I spent a very delightful afternoon. A lady whose dress the papers described as "a costume of brown brocade and lace" played beautifully. Another "dressed in grey satin and chiffon" sang charmingly. A third who wore "a skirt of black and a primrose bodice trimmed with lace" recited with much talent, and a galaxy of the belles of New York, ladies of society, and professional stars of the pen, the platform and the stage combined to make feel at home. I had to acknowledge in thanking them that although I perhaps failed to draw American women, American women had certainly succeeded in drawing me.