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bacon on the gridiron.) How sleepy I am, to be sure! I'd indulge myself with a nap if there was anybody here to superintend the turning of my bacon. (Yawning again.) Perhaps it will turn itself. I must lie down---so, here goes.
Enter Fox, hurriedly. Fox. Well, wonders will never cease! Conscious of being eleven minutes and a half behind time, I was sneaking into the shop, in a state of considerable excitement, when my venerable employer, with a smile of extreme benevolence on his aged countenance, said to me—“Fox, I shan't want you to-day-you can have a holiday."--Thoughts, of “Gravesend and back-fare, One Shilling," instantly suggested themselves, intermingled with visions of “Greenwich for Fourpence !" However I must have my breakfast first that'll give me time to reflect. I've bought a mutton chop, so I shan't want any dinner. (Puts chop on table,) Good gracious! I've forgot the bread. Hollow ! what's this ? A roll, I declare! Come, that's lucky! Now, then, to light the fire. Hollow-Seeing the lucifer-box on table.)—who presumes to touch my box of lucifers? Why, it's empty! I left one in it-I'm certain I did. Why, the fire is lighted ! Where's the gridiron ? On the fire, I declare! And what's that on it? ?
Bacon? Bacon it is! Well, now, 'pon my life, there is a quiet coolness about Mrs. Bouncer's proceedings that's almost amusing. She takes my last lucifer-my coals, and my gridiron, to cook her breakfast by! No, no— -I can't stand this! Come out of that. (Pokes fork into bacon, and puts it on a plate on the table, then places his chop on the gridiron.) Now, then, for my breakfast things. (Goes out, slamming the door after him.)
Box. (Suddenly showing his head from behind the curtains.) Come in, if it's you, Mrs. Bouncer. I wonder how long I've been asleep? Goodness gracious, my bacon! (Leaps off bed, and runs to the fireplace.) Holloa! what's this? A chop! Whose chop? Mrs. Bouncer's, I'll be bound. She thought to cook her breakfast while I was asleep-with my coals, too, and my gridiron! Ha, ha! But where's my bacon?
(Seeing it on table.) Here it is. Well, 'pon my life, Bouncer's
And shall I curb my indignation? Shall I falter in my vengeance? No! (Digs the fork into the chop, opens window, and throws chop out—shuts window again.) So much for Bouncer's breakfast, and now for my own! (With the fork he puts the bacon on the gridiron again.) I may as well lay my breakfast things.
Fox. (Putting his head in quickly.) Come in—come in. (Opens door, enters with a small tray, on which are tea things, and suddenly recollects.) Oh, goodness, my.chop! (Running to fireplace.) Holloa ! what's this? The bacon again! Oh, pooh! Bless me, I can't stand this. Who are you, sir ?
Box. If you come to that, who are you?
Fox. Printer, I shall do you a frightful injury, if you don't instantly leave my apartment.
Box. . Your apartment? You mean my apartment, you contemptible hatter, you !
Fox. Your apartment? Ha, ha! Come, I like that! Look here, sir. (Produces a paper out of his pocket.) Mrs. Bouncer's receipt for the last week's rent, sir
Box. (Produces a paper, and holds it close to Fox's face.) Ditto, sir ! Both. Mrs. Bouncer!
Mrs. BOUNCER runs in at door, F.
Box. Instantly remove that hatter !
(Pulling her round to him.) Box. . Explain! (Pulling her round to him.) Whose room is this?
Fox. Yes, ma'am, whose room is this?
Box. Doesn't it belong to me?
Mrs. B. Oh, dear, gentlemen, don't be angry-but, you see, this gentleman-(pointing to Box)-only being at home in the day time, and that gentleman--pointing to Fox)-at night, I thought I might venture, until my little back second floor room was ready
Fox and Box. (Eagerly.) When will your little back second floor room be ready?
Mrs. B. Why, to-morrow-
Mrs. B. Excuse me; but if you both take it, you may just as well stop where you are.
Fox and Box. True.
Box. With all my heart, sir. The little back second floor room is
sir-now, goFox. Go? Pooh, pooh!
Mrs. B. Now, don't quarrel, gentlemen. You see, there used to be a partition here
Fox and Box. Then put it up!
Mrs B. Nay, I'll see if I can't get the other room ready this very day. Now, do keep your tempers.
THE COLD-WATER MAN-SAXE.
There lived an honest fisherman,
I knew him passing well-
Within a little dell.
grave and quiet man was he,
Who loved his hook and rod; So eren ran bis line of life,
His neighbors thought it odd.
He never had a wish ;
Except a “school" of fish.
This single-minded fisherman
A double calling had, --
In summer, fish for shad.
In short this honest fisherman,
All other toils forsook ; And though no vagrant man was he,
He lived by "hook and crook." All day that fisherman would sit
Upon an ancient log, And gaze into the water,
like Some sedentary frog.
A cunning fisherman was he;
His angles all were right; And, when he scratched his aged poll,
You'd know he got a bite,
To charm the fish he never spoke,
Although his voice was fine;
Was just to “ drop a line.”
And many a “gudgeon" of the pond,
If made to speak to-day, Would own with grief, this angler had
A mighty “taking way.”
One day, while fishing on the log,
He mourned his want of luck,-
And jerking-caught a duck!
Had taken too much grog;
He couldn't “ keep the log."
And tried to gain the shore;-
He'd baited oft before!
To all is plain and clear :-
May make a watery bier.
And keep his promise fast,
Cold-water man, at last.
HOW MICHAEL FAGAN CURED HIS PIG.
• The top of the mornin' to
docthur.” "Ah! Michael, how are you."
" It's very well I am mesel', docthur ; but perhaps ye'll be tellin' a poor man wot he'll be doin' for the pig, sure ?"
“ Pig !” exclaimed the doctor, with a smile. “What pig? and what's the matter with him ?"
“ Sure, he's very bad indade, so he is. A cowld, docthur. Snaizing and barking the head off him a’most, and I'd like to know what I'll be doin' wuth him ?"
Well, really, Michael, I can't say. I'm not a pig doctor, at any rate !"