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Enter ALLEN.

Dora.-Father, here is a kid.
ACT I. SCENE 1.- Interior of_William Allen's Farm on Christmas Day. ALLEN.—He is a smart youth. Whose is he! Of Jewish extrac-

tion, I should say. ALLEN.-My will is law-it says so in the bills. Mr. J. Kinloch, her late William, who are, and were, light-haired Christians. But

Dora (aside).-He does look Jewish, but he is the babe of Mary and the acting manager, considered the explanation absurd, but my will is such are the freaks of nature !


ceps. law, and I would have it.

ALLEN.-Dora, I love this Israelite, I will adopt him!
Enter DORA.

Dora.—He is William and Mary's boy!
DORA.—I am Farmer Allan's niece and adopted daughter—a girl of ALLEN.-Ha! Then cush you! Cush you! Cush you !
timorous, but noble disposition.

ALLEN.—Yes, Dora, they know all that. It's in the bills.
DORA.—Yes; I tried to dissuade you from putting it in, on the

LUKE.—Not so! Behold the setting sun! He is like a dying

Christian! ground of its looking transpontine, but you would have it.

ALLEN.-My will is law, gyurl! By the way, talking of my Will- | (Setting sun is shy, and goes out, but eventually returns, and sets very fast you shall marry him.

-a deputation of raspberry jam and pink coral advancing to meet it. DORA.—Whom?

New and beautiful scenery by MR. GATES.) ALLEX.—My Will.

Allen.—'Tis a-terrue! I see the folly of my ways. Take her, DORA.—Certainly., With as much

rapture as is consistent with my Luke, and be happy. Mary, you shall have more chops than you can timorous but noble disposition. If my disposition were a little more eat. Israelitish offspring of my Christian son, you shall be educated audacious, I would admit that I fervently love him, although he don't for the Bar. care a straw for me.

Enter Rustics, who have been loitering. General dance of all the ALLEN.-Timorous, but noble gyurl! But my will is law, and he

characters. Solo by Israelite. Curtain. shall have you. Enter WILL.

OURSELVES.- Well, it's a pretty piece, but too long and too goody Will (weakly, and trying to look good).—Who kissed the place to in tone. Well acted by Miss Tzkey, and fairly by Mr. Neville. make it well ?--My father!

Placed upon the stage in a manner that disgraces even the Adelphi. ALLEN.—Will, marry Dora!

How was it that MR. CHARLES READE didn't strangle the stage Dora.—Do. My timorous (but noble) disposition forbids my saying

manager ?

(Blushes. WILL.-Impossible, father, for I am already married !

Vulgar errors of to-day. ALLEN.-No matter-my will is law!

The notion that “a knobstick" is so called because he is an (kn)obstacle WILL.—Your Will is law-fully wedded to Mary Morrison. in the way of his fellow-workmen on strike, is, we believe, purely Enter Mary-probably from making pills in the kitchen- A Poor Relation fanciful. The derivation of the term is, however, involved in aob. of the Allens, acting as their Servant. See Play-Bill.

scurity. ALLEN.—Then cush you both! Away with ye! Ha! ha!

The book just announced with the title of “Never Caught" is not, WILL (looking more virtuous than ever).-We go!

we hear, a reply to Mr. ARTHUR ARNOLD'S “ Hever Court." The idea ALLEN.-Cushes ! Cushes ! Cushes ! [Falls down in a frenzied fit. that it is could, we should suppose, only have occurred to an

illiterate cockney ACT II. SCENE 1.-Brookside Cottage, the Residence of William and

The phrase, “ Tuck in your Tupperny" could not possibly have Mary (not the Monarchs of those names). Enter MAKY.

originated among the devourers of MR. TUPPER'S“ Proverbial Wisdom," MARY.—How happy I ought to be! My William is dying fast, and for the reason, that the true orthography of the thing tucked in is everything seems prosperous. An unknown benefactor hangs chops two-penny, a cant term for a head ! on my garden paling every morning. (Weeping glad tears.) I broil them!

“ Datey Hobble-'um !" Enter DORA. DORA.—Mary!

THERE is to be a great ball at the Hotel de Ville, to which all the MARY.— Dora—you are a hussy! Yon onee loved my William, and crowned heads who may be in Paris will be invited. M. DESCHAMP now you make it your business to set Farmer Allen (a man whose will for the decoration of the building. The day is not yet named, for of

has been sent to Catania, Syracuse and Tunis to purchase palm-trees is law) against us. DORA.- A hussy? Oh, Mary, you wrong me. No hussy could be

course until they have got the palms the authorities cannot enter upon a girl of a timorous but noble disposition.

the question of dates.
Entor LUKE BLOOMFIELD, wildly.

LUKE (to Mary).—'Twas she who hung chops on your paling!
DORA.Oh, don't mention it, I'm sure.

The young fruit has been terribly cut off by frost in the South of MARY.-Dora, I have wronged you !

England in fact, in some divisions there has recently been a good deal DORA.- My uncle has gone to London to make his will (which is of pearing-off. law) in favour of me. Now, I am a girl of a timorous but noble dis

The Sign of a Fraction. position, so I have come to warn you that if he does this you will be disinherited.

The human race is deteriorating. We used to be told that nine Enter FARMER ALLEN, smashed.

tailors made a man ; but we find now that hundreds of them will not DORA.—Papa !

even make a pair of breeches.
AllBN.-I am smashed-smashed-and cannot make my will, which,
however, would be law if I could only execute it.

A Voice from the Ranks.
Enter Will, in a perambulator, very ill.

We understand that our contemporary, The Whip, is about to WILL.-I feel all-overish.

[Dies in great agony. publish a translation of Cicero's famous oration-Pro (more than sixALL-Ah!

pence a) Milone. ACT III. SOENE 1.- The Wheat Field. Eighteenpennyworth of straw

The Latest Thing About the Derby. to represent Agricultural Plenty. Fire Balloon in the distance. Hedge of dirty blue cloth to field. Adelphi sky-borders. (New and beautiful little expected. Everybody ought to have been prepared to see Ma.

We are surprised that the success of Hermit should have been so scenery by Mr. Gates.) Enter ALLEN and Dora.

CHAPLIN's horse in the van!
ALLEN (in a burst of un-farmer-like gratitude).-Well, lass, this is
the finest crop of straw I've seen this fifty year!

Dogged Obstinacy.
DORA (improving the opportunity).-Then forgive Mary!
ALLEN.-Never! I love you, Dora, with all the rapturous ecstacy

We understand that the proprietors of the late Day are about to of an enthusiastic parent. I am never happy without you-you are bring an action against Mr. I Upper (as a representative of Proverbial mine, and part of me; but allude to that young woman again, and I'll Philosophy), on the ground that they have been misled into a loss by turn you out to starve in the streets !


the old saw, " Every dog has his Day." Enter Mary and child. MARY.-Dora!

A Literary Mem. Dora.-Mary, he is obdurate; but give me your kid, and I will see MI88 JEAN INGELOW is about to publish a new volume of poems 6nif I can't come over him.

[Exit Mary. titled A Story of Doom. We presume it will be a doomestic story,

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Years have elapsed-many bright, many shady-

(More than I'm willing to say),
Since I devotedly loved a young lady

Living just over the way.
Sweet seventeen, and as fair as a lily-

Show me the lily so fair;
What was the wonder I fell, willy-nilly,

Head over heels in the snare ?
Merely a clerk—not a year from a school yet-

Wages and wits on a par-.
Playing the Romeo to Somebody's Juliet,

Quite like a tragedy star.
How could I settle to commerce or trading

Tost on an ocean of care,
Brimful of doubts (as per Love's bill of lading),

Bound for the Gulf of Despair ?
How did I waste my long mornings together,

While by my window I stood,
Waiting and watching, and wondering whether

Luck would be naughty or good.
Smiles and salutes, inexpressibly tender,

Daily went over the street.
I, at discretion, had made my surrender ;

Why was not she as discreet ?
Thanks—many thanks for thy noble invention,

Friend of the deaf and the dumb;
Lending an ear to the quick apprehension,

Speech to the fingers and thumb.
Dear little word, it was bliss to repeat it:

First came an L, then an 0;
Two other letters remain to complete it-

Need I continue? Oh, no!
Love, beyond pantomime billing and cooing,

Made very little advance;
Time, the old bully, takes pleasure in doing

Infinite harm to Romance.
Now I believe now the spell has been broken-

Love deaf and dumb is absurd ;
Now I believe that if Passion had spoken,

Beauty would never have heard.

A BREAD RIOT. Our Artist in Taris states that he was a witness of this harrowing scene, in which Madame

played her rôle so as to inflict a mortal Pang on her kusband.

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hat; not at all. His whiskers are sandy, his hair cropped, and his

face pink and clean. His continuations are of the brightest cobalt. BOHEMIA, PARIS.

“Why, WHITTLEPOP," I exclaim, shaking hands with him, “ When DBAR SIR-Have you a favourite corn? If so, just startoff on a broiling did you turn up, where are you staying?" "I'm stoppin' at the day in June, to walk' five miles in a pair of new boots, to see a race Hotel Meublé,' says he. “ Oh!" says I.“ Capital Tableaux vivants," and see how you like it. The other day being the French Derby day says he. “What !” says I. Tableau d'hote," says he. I was naturally anxious to see what our eccentric neighbours could do I.“ Dined in the Pally Rogal last night,” says he. in that line. Listen to the tale of that wretched day. Twelve o'clock


I. Restaurant au dessus,” says he. “First floor, isn't it,” says finds me at the Palais Royal, togged up, I may say, without appearing I. “ Yes," says he. “Where are you off to now ?" says I. " Complet," conceited, “ to the nines," and waiting for an omnibus to take me to the says he. “Where's that ?" says I. “Don't know," says he, but all Bois de Boulogne. No. 1 comes up, crammed! No. 2, jammed!! No. the 'busses seem to be going there to-day? “Better come to the races," 3 “confounded nuisance" 1 pettishly exclaim, angrily biting says I. “ All right," says he, “let's take a fly." I hail one. I ask my nether lip, and carelessly throwing the butt end of a halfpenny the driver what he would want to take us to the races. “Twelve Bordeaux against the white and expansive waistcoat of a fat French- francs !" Too much, I'd give him eight.” Je vous donnerai huit man who stands near me. He swears loud and long, and when he has francs ; mais pas beaucoup! pas beaucoup !" I exclaim in the heat of the had enough of that, he bows and smiles as only a fat Frenchman can. moment. Non, m'sieu,” says Coachee. “ Vous avez raison, huit I can see he has not forgiven me by the way he eyes a small stain the francs ! ce n'est pas beaucoup," and drives off. “Well," I say to WHIToffending fragment has made on his whitewashed corporation. Omnibus "TLETOP, “I must see the Grand Prix, and that's all about it. I shall No. 4 appears round the corner! Full! No! Room for one on the walk it!" “What do you say?" "Too 'ot," says W. “I shall jump outside !! My friend the fat Frenchman sees this too, and is already into a 'bus and go to Complet.” “My dear fellow,” I began to explain, half-way to the 'bus. I gird up my loins and pursue him, sharp! He “Do you know the meaning of - Ow! 0-0-0-0-0-0-0! Oh!!" sees me coming, and redoubles his speed!! Breathless excitement and “Oh! 'I beg pardon,” cries W., “I hope I've not touched your corn!". loud cheers from passengers on top?! Madly I bound forward !!! I Oh! it's nothing," I gasp, with a look of deep hatred. “Good-bye," catch him up and wo reach the steps !!' Together!!!! Fearful I must be off; and," I add, with a revengeful smile, “You'd better struggle!! Where and oh where is your French politeness now!! I wait for the Complet 'bus! there's plenty go there." I hobble off down plant my right elbow in his stomach and wriggle myself into the first the Rue de Rivoli, up the Champs Elysées, where “much of the world step!! Seeing that my victory is almost certain, my opponent brings is promenading itself to take the fresh." How horridly selfish people the heel of his right boot heavily down upon the little toe of my left look in carriages! How jolly to feel independent of swindling cabmen. foot !!!! Agony !!! I release my hold! I stagger back!! and the Oh! this vile corn! I reach the Arc de l'Etoile; I limp merrily French fiend, laughing horridly, ascends the steps and takes his place. up to the Bois de Boulogne; I am determined to see the Grand Prix. What is to be done now? I feebly totter to the pavement and lean I reach Longchamps at last; dense crowd round entrance to course; I against a lamp post! "'Ullo Potts" says a familiar voice at my stand in the queue for half an hour, during which period I suffer side, "’ow are yer, when did you come to Paris. You look blown! agonies from having my old enemy trampled under foot. At last I What's up?" The speaker is a podgy thickset little man, whose get on to the course, and make my way to the Grand Stand. There is

is unmistakeably British. His hat is not a tall the EMPEROR, and a swell in a white hat with a black band, black

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whiskers, and blue tie. Some say he is the Emperor of All the Russias, others affirm he is the King of the Belgians. I can't find out which he is. The bell rings for the race. The weather becomes overcast. I have a white hat on. I seldom do mount a white hat, but whenever I do it's sure to rain. Rain! thunder!! lightning!!! Bell rings a second time for race. We (the public) crowd on to the course, in crder to see it well. Being politely requested by sergents to leave a little room for the horses, wo form a line down the centre of the course, thereby making it about half its original size.

The horses get in line!! They're off!! In the excitement of the moment we close behind them and crowd all over the course. Once more we are requested to make a little room. We again form the line down centre. They are coming round!!! I wish this great sergent would get out of my light! Here they come! Patricien! Pat(crunch!!)-Oh! oww! 0-0-0-oh! the sergent has backed unto my unfortunate toe!


So much for the Grand Prix. I hobbled towards home as far as the Champs Elysées, where a dirty man in a swing cart took compassion on me and carried me to the Survey side for five francs.

I shall not forget the Grand Prix de Paris in a hurry! I shall well remember it; I have causecors aux pieds.

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Oh, making mistakes in talking,

Oh, prey to the merest thief, Oh, whenever in August walking,

O-mitted his handkerchief!

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Juswers to Correspondents. [We cannot return rejected MSS. or sketches unless they are accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope.]

KESWICK CODLING.—That joke about Dried-'un is a very high and dried-'un and has been stranded on the shores of antiquity.

FLY-WHEEL.—You must be thought a dull fellow in your ctcle to judge from the spokes—we beg pardon, "jokes," you send us.

IGNOTU8.—Should sign himself Ignoramus, for he directs his letter " to the Editor and addresses his remarks to some one else.

B. F.H., Manchester.—The point of your jokes is purely mathematical for it hath no magnitude.

M. A. B., Manchester.-Do you seriously consider the columns of a comic paper the proper place for “a revised and corrected edition of the Apostles' Creed”] We don't.

J. D., Oldham.—The only thing you send us that is comic enough for insertion is the letter accompanying your MS. “Sir,-Enclosed it approved should be glad of their insertion. Yours ete.” That is really funny!

A FRIEND.-We never take in a friend. Declined with thanks J. C. S., Packington-street; F. G. P.; 0. K.; W.G. S.; J. A. S.; F. W. H. ; Oxoniensis; W. 8., Chelsea; S.J. W.C., Everton Crescent; R. L. D.; Glad; W. D., Cheltenham; E. G., St. James's-street; J. A., Canterbury; W. B., Finsbury-place; Flit-Flirt; Q; A. S. D.; G. D. E. P.; E. G. R., Claremont-square;

E. D. P.; G.F., Willis-road; H. E. V. D.; F. W. H.; R. B., Swithin's-lane; B; Felix; B. F. H.; L. B., Manchester; B., House Old Barracks, Fermoy; 2,000 Years Old; . C.; T. M. F.; H. M., Bethnal Green; W. H., Moorgatestreet; A. L. G.; J. M. D.; Dublin ; Sydenham; J. R., Manchester ; J. F.'D.; Apple Sauce; W. B. Forsey; E. M., Miltun-street; H. P., Worcester; E. H.

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Oh, shirts with a faithful button,

Oh, GALAHAD ne'er could find; Oh, whenever his coat he put on,

Oh, the collar stuck up behind. When with hunger almost starving,

Toothache raoked his temper hardWhen a round of cold beef carving

Ever forgot to use the guard.
Oh, orderly though behaving,

Oh, ever before the beak;
Oh, when he attempted shaving,

Oh, horribly slashed his cheek.
When he drank 'twas always fated

He should overturn his cup, When in a company speculated,

Somebody came and wound it up.

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THE GREAT FRENCH EXHIBITION. colours of the rainbow. I never see anything more gingerbread, ex-
Numero 295, in the Street of the Little Stables,

cept the old Lord Mayor's coach; and things that looks like writing

a-crawlin' all over the front, in what they tell me is Arabick PARIS, FRANCE.

characters. I've seen them before on chemists' bottles. I can tell you MY DEAR ’LIZA, Me and Bob got here safe at last; but, as I says, me and Bob was precious tired, fagging about the assfeltum pavewhen Bob asked me whether I wasn't enjoying myself, give me the ments, which is like the new injy-rubber as takes out blots, and sticks City of London after all, and a rump steak and oysters in Aldersgate- awful to the soles of your boots. There's no settin' down here though street, and then I don't want to go on to the Paris. You see the joke, without paying, for every seat, and every bit and drop of anythink, I daro say,-pernounce Paris with a aitch, an' there you

are. Speak and the very water and air is all concessioned—that is, let out to hire to ing of h, I wish as we had one of them salted hedge-bones of beef as chaps as have bought 'em up to sell retail, and they won't part with you're such a hand at, over here ; for as for the food of all nations, I'm their rights without making of you pay. The only thing as is not blest if it ain't downright disgustin'. We've been here now two days, concessioned is to make a hijeous row; and outside this precious Blue and not a thing fit for to eat, nothing but your kickshaws, except once, Beard place, perched on a sort of a sophy as made your legs ache with when I lost sight of Bob for a minute, and finds him a-starin' at a envy to look at it, was five yaller chaps with red caps, and such baggy b'iled leg o' multon, and where do you think, but at a house called what's-o'names as would ha' made me a couple o' pair—all tam-tum, His Lordship’s Larder, which is in a place called the French for ming, and bongbonging, and twiddling away like melancholy-mad Queen-street. I promise you we made a dinner that day, so that when monkeys. When presently, amongst all the crowd of Turks in turbans, we went to the Exhibition afterwards we didn't want more than a cup and soldiers, and johndamns, and other confounded foreigners, a cove of corfy, and I just wish we'd done without that, for of all the with a redder cap and baggier what's-o'names, brings a tray of little precious messes—but there, I'll tell you how it come about, and then cups of black stuff. "Whatever is these ?” I says to him, pointing to you'll pity me, as is always used to my cup o' tea and muffin, or a the musicianers, and what do you think he says “Tuneys,” he says. shrimp, or what not, at five p.m., regʻlar every afternoon. Call this a “Oh," says I, "if you call that a tune I'd sooner hear a butcher Exhibition indeed—at least, they don't—they call it a Ex-pose-ition, sharpen a saw; but what do you call this stuff?" “Corfy," says he. and they're about right, for it's a complete exposee, as ALDERMAN It was as black as ink, and I thought I never should have done larfin' JOBLING used to sav when anythink was found out about the way the to see Bob after he'd tossed off a cup. “Well," I says, “if them's things went at the Corporation dinners. Of course, it's outside the Tuneys and this is corfy, I don't wonder at Blue Beard." But Bob was building here that people like best, becos there the ladies can

show off savage, and says, “Tuneys is the name of the place, and Alljeers is their toggery, and don't get rumpled. The French is a people for the closely,” which I don't wonder at it a bit ; and l’ú tell you some open hair, especially now the women hain't got no bonnets to speak of; more in my next.

Yours, dear 'Liza, and lor, 'Liza, I should like you to see some of 'em made like butter

SAM TROTTLE. flies and wheatsheafs, and one was a pigeon-pie, just like you've seen at Rung and BRYMERS', with the claws a-sticking through the crust at

Unsweeted Law. the top. The open air's what I always did like myself, specially out The judgments of one of our legal luminaries convince us that so far 'Ampstead way, or p'raps at Spring Bead, when there was water from the law being made palatable, it is not desirable that it should creases, and the gipsy, and the cat with blue eyes; but here things is be made Lush-ious. different, as you'll understand when I te'l you that mo and Bob found ourselfs under a buildin' jest like a scene at the Wells when they

Nctes on Noses. playod Blue Beard. You recklect that night, don't you? Well, there Ir you let a man pull your nose to-day, when will he do it again ? – it was, nothink but reg'lar lath-and-plaster, bless you—but all the Why next tweak, of course!

London : Printed by JUDD & GLASS, Phønix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Pablished (for the Proprietor) by W. ALDEK, al do, Moer-street, B.C.

June 15, 1867.

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