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SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

NICHOLAS ON CROAKY.
of what is the Old Man thinking ?—Popular Ballad.

OUT FOR MY HOLIDAYS. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, -The Old Man was thinking, Sir, as it was high time for me to send a countrybution to the first number of the Sixth Volume of your New Serious, when he was delighted for to perceive by a friendly missive, which it reached me through a private channel, as you were yourself quite of the same opinion. In fact, my dear young Friend, you put it even more forcible than what I could have done so myself, where you capitally say as my conduct is disgraceful. This, Sir, is the true frankness of the Anglo-Saxonian gontleman, than whom I am sure as I have always considered you one of them, though a little too apt for to blow up men as are more than twice your age. I fancied, Sir, as I could hear the very tones of your familiar voice in that sweet passage where the letter says as I am "& delusive old vagabond, on whom no reliance can be placed.” You are

not the only person which may have said so; but what I am sincerely To "Twenty-firstly" on they go,

grateful for is the friendly way in which the communication is made, The lads do not attempt to scout him;

where you say that if I do not send you some copy you will have me He argued high, he argued low,

locked up for obtaining of money under false pretences. Nothing, Sir, He also argued round about him.

could be more frank, nor straightforwarder, nor more calculated for to

put NICHOLAS on his mettle. “ Ho! ho!” he cries, "you bow your crests —

The truth is that the Prophet have again been basking in the lapses My eloquence has set you weeping,

of luxury on the coast of the English Channel, where the good and In shame you bend upon your breasts !”

barntiful of Britain's aristocracy have been hand and glove with him, (And so they did—for they were sleeping.)

chorus, then here's a hand, my trusty fære, and here's a hand o' mine, and we'll drink a cup of kindness yet, for Auld Lang Syne! Many is the proud and stately Peer of the Realm with whom I have done 89, they all being fond of NICHOLAS-whilst the women, Sir, by JUPITER ! they adore me! To say as I have been doing much execution among the partridge-birds, Sir, would be entirely useless, as I am sure you would not believe me, and therefore abstain from telling you a systematic falsehood;—but I have been winning laurels, so for to speak, in another sphere, and which it is more adapted for the Prophet's

present period of life, not to speak of my future.

I allude, Sir, to the delightful game of Croaky—or, as the French say, Croquet; but I always pronounce it personally in the way which I have spelled it first.

Had I the pen, Sir, of a CAPTAIN MAYNE ROUTLEDGE, or a Mr. EDMUND Reid, or of a gentleman to whom SHAKESPEARE alludes as “the melancholy JAQUES," which it strikes the Old Man as being rather like taking a liberty for to call him so, I would then, Sir, expatiate on the rules of the game, though what after all is the use of doing so when no two people can be found who play exactly alike; but

this is a digression. Full stop.
He proved them this—he proved them that-
This good but wearisome ascetic;

The Old Man, however, never sparing trouble nor expense when he
He jumped and thumped upon his hat,

sees a chance of affording combined amusement and instruction to the He was so very energetic.

readers of your valuable New Serious, will give you a eketch of

CROAKY; AS PLAYED BY NICHOLAS HIMSELF.
His bishop at this moment chanced

1. Get the Marchioness to bring out a chair for you, so as you may To pass, and found the road encumbered ;

not have to walk about the ground more than what is convenient. He noticed how the Churchman danced,

2. Get her for to mix you a glass of cold brandy-and-water. Note.And how his congregation slumbered.

There are some grounds where this is considered low. What's the

odds ? The Hundred and Eleventh head

3. Say you won't play until the next game, as you like to see the The priest completed of his stricture:“Oh, bosh!" the worthy bishop said,

young people enjoying themselves. And walked him off, as in the picture.

4. See the young people enjoying themselves, and drink the cold brandy-and-water.

6. Send for another glass. Note.-Some players go to sleep at this stage of the game, but it is not obligatory for to do so. Suit yourself.

6. Take a weed, and wait till the game is over. 7. Take a mallet, and wait till the game begins. 8. Be particularly careful not to hit your ball through the first hoop. 9. Same as No. 8. Note.—The advantage of this plan, which is seldom recommended by less experienced authors, is that you can stay close to your chair where the cold brandy-and-water is.

10. Stay close to your chair where the cold brandy-and-water is.

11. A good strong pair of spectacles will help you in watching the darlings when they put their dear little boots--but NICHOLAS, NICHOLAS, you have a reputation for morality, my boy! Sustain it.

12. Say you are afraid the grass is getting damp, beg to be excused,

go indoors, and have some more brandy-and-water. Turning the Tables.

REMARKS. M. VICTOR MEUNIER publishes an article in the last number of It will be seen as this Manwal is free from tedious technicalities, Cosmos upon the feasibility of domesticating monkeys and instructing and likewise from wrangling discussions about the mere minutiæ of them in the duties of serrants. He is of opinion that the thing may the game. It is enough for the young player to learn the general be done by careful breeding and instruction. We should think if his principles of croaky. plan could be carried out it would be a great boon to the public in the If these brief but well-considered remarks should help to inspire present sad dearth of good servants. It would enable ladies to turn any one with a real affection for the noble game--and if

, above all, the table on “the greatest plagues in life.” The mistresses could they should tend to wipe away a tear from the cheeks of Innocence, monkey their servants—the servants have long enough been aping whilst alleviating the hardships of the poor, they will have more than their mistresses.

fulfilled the foudest aspirations of

NICHOLAS HIMSELP.

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MASTERY AND MYSTERY.

Swell (to Porter) :-"IF YOU'RE INSOLENT, Sir, I'LL COMPLAIN TO YOUR MASTER !” Porter :-“UGH! Arx'T GOT NO MASTER !”

I Passing party :-“No, MASTER! 'OW ABOUT THE OLE WOMAN AT ’OME ?"

THE HOLIDAY KING. [DEDICATED WITHOUT PERMISSION TO M. F. T.) In seventy trains and ten

Rushed millions of men set free, Captives out of their London den,

Gulls on the scent of the sea !
Dust from the work of weeks,

Dust upon beards and in brains,
Dust in their eyes and dust on their cheeks,

In ten-and-seventy traing.
O! pale and spiritless crowd,

That bows to the Holiday King,
Clutching at bags and shouting aloud

For freedom, its fun, and its fling.
Free from the paper and pen,

Dozing on shingle and sand,
And far and wide those seventy and ten

Are scattered from land unto land.
And, ho! for some legs straightway,

In honour of pass and of peak,
For the worn-out barrister's blithe and gay

When he's been in the air a week.
From hill and valley and fen,

The news comes gathering fast.
The million men from the seventy and ten,

Have care to old Æolus cast.
A plucky and desperate crowd,

They tramp over glaciers and sing, For mad with ozone they are shouting aloud,

“Here's a cheer for the Holiday King."

For swift has he taken in tow

The subjects that round him flock; But weak is the mallet and silly the bow,

To a pack and an Alpenstock. But woe to the hazardous pranks,

That are played in MACGREGOR canoes ! Your mad-cap traveller gets few thanks,

And nobody likes his shoes :
But Holiday King stands proud

Monarch of moor and of nook,
Dear to the heart of the clamouring crowd,

Who have purchased their tickets of Cook !
Yet though such a man of might,

Despotic and mild as well,
The Holiday King has for ever done right,

And never was known “to eell.”
“Sweetness, and culture, and light,"

And benefits done by stealth,
Are pasted clear in the people's sight

At the famous Board of Health.
And cricketers twenty and two,

He has sent out far and wide,
With plenty of money and nothing to do,

But astonish the country-side.
Though he comes in the summer, I.irust

We can battle with life till spring,
When we long to be brush'd from the London dust

By the broom of the Holiday King!

Me. Tom Taylor's DRAMATIC CRITICISM : – Vox et præ-TERBFnihil.

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