WALK UP FUNS SHOW 19 KUP THE extinguisher of Father Time had all but fallen on the dying and spluttering flame of 1882, when FUN manipulated with dexterity his own "Patent Luminiferous Dobrowoski Blacking-Brush Electric Light"-a light clear, brilliant, and lucid as himself. FUN then used his well-padded drumsticks with appalling vigour on his largest and most discordant drum, and began his New Year's address to the British Public as follows: "Dear B. P., you imagine probably that I am about to puff my own show, in which case it's a hundred-ton gun to a penny peashooter you are right. Somebody or other (an unread Republican, possibly) once remarked, The British Public is a hass!' which utterance was neither polite nor true. The B. P. is, on the contrary, remarkably 'fly; but at the same time it is sceptical, and will not believe in shows that are not puffed. Therefore," continued FUN, while he gracefully bowed (at least, as gracefully as a jester with a big drum slung round his neck could bow) and cocked his left optic pleasantly at the British Public, "therefore, though I assert in a fearless manner that I can give any other comic show in the world 'points,' and win, I am not afraid to admit that there are several others in existence of most excellent quality; but before I'll ever be beaten, hang me! I'll-I'll Here FUN plied his drumsticks so furiously, that the drums of the British Public's ears, as well as his own sonorous instrument, were nearly broken, "If you are never beaten," shrieked the drum, "I am. Don't be quite so handy with those sticks, guv'nor!" "Dear B. P.," resumed FUN, disdaining to notice the appeal, "I have re-engaged for this year, that has just made its welcome appearance, some of the most eccentric Comic Artists and peculiar Comic Journalists of the present day-and a few of 'em are eccentric and peculiar, you bet. I allow them to stand on their heads in the office, to appropriate my best cigars, to incite my head clerk to sing 'Tiddy-fol-lol!' during office hours, to dance with the Office Boy's great-aunt, and all for your sake, dear B. P. I have to put up with much in order to provide my grand weekly show for you, B. P." Here FUN showed signs of weeping, but the cheers of the B. P. revived him. And once more the big drum had cause for serious complaint. "Walk up! walk up!" cried the People's Jester; "plank down your pennies, and revel in the most mirth-creating show in the world!" VOL. XXXVII.-NO. 921. THAT RETARDED POSTAL DELIVERY QUESTION-(SOME CAUSES OF THOSE DISGRACEFUL DELAYS). Of course we would not suggest that the public is itself in any way responsible for the lateness of its letters; but still Here's a postman on his round. Cause of delay No. 1.-The thoughtless person (Mr. Legion) who will not have a letter-box. The party who will have a name, instead of a number, to his hovel. Pet dogs with an aversion to uniforms. At the end of his round the postman arrives at the residence of Indignant City Man.-I. C. M. writes to the papers. |