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EXACTLY HITTING IT. Cheery Stable-keeper : —"Now's YOUR TIME, SIR! He's WAITING FOR YOU.” [Judkins thinks, from the expression of the brute's eye and the action of his near hind leg, that is just what he is doing.

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Si tu savais the history of all

That's made into a dainty dish to eat; Si tu savais what passes when we call

A hard-worked servant from her hard-earned seat; Si tu savais the fingers that run round

The edges of your morning's marmalade ;
Si tu savais what life is, I'll be bound
You'll stick to love and friendship when they're made.

Grant what I've said is true,
Tell me, what could you do,

Si tu savais ?

SI TU SAVAIS. SI TU SAVAIS, when you are asked to dine

With half-a-dozen others, say, or eight, The master's agonies about the wine,

The mistress cares anent the glass and plate ;
The winks, when some relève is running short,

And all seem digging at a tiny dish;
The frowns when men, like water, swill old port,
And flustered waiters help you twice to fish.

Nuisance a dinner means
When you're behind the scenes,

Si tu savais. Si tu savais, when haughty women scoff

At fashion's victims and the cares of dress, The days through which they've stitched their fingers off,

The hours devoted to each wilful tress; Si tu savais, what coils of plaits conceal,

The pow'r of peplums and the tricks of fringe,
The fraud an unpick'd “costume” will reveal,
Or hair or eyebrows destitute of tinge,

Dresses for showy belles
Are but too often sells,

Si tu savais. Si tu savais, when you have turned your back

Upon a house where all have welcomed you, How many people cultivate the knack

Of sneering when they've nothing else to do;
Si tu savais, endeavours to amuse

Are picked to bits by men and called absurd ;
While women curl their lips and then abuse
People with whom they've not exchanged a word,

Really, 'twixt you and me,
There's little charity,

Si tu savais,

Rather too Cwt. We clip this from the Liverpool Daily Post of the 19th instant : WANTED, a respectable Young Man as Light Porter. One who fears the Lord,

and can carry two hundredweight. A Wesleyan preferred. - Address D 185, office of this Paper. We beg seriously to protest against this combination of piety and porterage, as calculated to bring solemn things into ridicule. The only excuse we can make for D 135 is that he is an idiot, who does not perceive his own folly, and thinks it possible that a man who could carry a couple of hundredweight might be apt to make light of graver things.

Looking at it in a New Light. It is not surprising that public feeling should be aroused at the daring street outrages which have lately been exposed in the papers ; it might reasonably have been expected that daylight robberies bad ceased with the abolition of the Window Tax.

Botanical Note. The man who wants a pint of beer immediately after breakfast must have been forced from a bed devoted to seek-ale.

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Chorus (AIR :—" That's the way the money goes ") :-"FLING AWAY, BOYS! LOTS MORE WHERE THIS COMES FROM !

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place none the fresher. As to settin' down in comfort I couldn't, and

that poor child was pretty nigh stifled. She kep' on a-whimperin' It must be near three year ago, jest arter we moved over into and a-botherin' me, a-sayin', I can't see," and "When's it a-goin' to Kennington as is called Sonih Lambeth, as Mrs. CHAWDLEY, as lived begin ?" I says, "My dear, there's a gent a-beginnin' to say someoppersite, come in one Monday arternoon about three, and says, thing now as I can't make out.” So I says to a sour-lookin' old thing * Mrs. Brown mum, may I ask a favour ?" I says, “M88. CHAWDLEY, as set next me, “Pray whatever is it?" She only scowls and says, mum, what is it, for my word's my bond, so will never promise what I “'Ush.” don't perform ?"

“Well,” I says, “if that's your manners, I pities you ;” and I gets She says, Would you mind a-takin' my Emmy for to see a play my bottle out of my redicule, and took the werry least drop, for I was through bein' 'er birthday, and promised for to go, as would certainly nearly stifled, and I give Emuy another orange and says,

“ Would ’ave took 'er myself but for the measles a-breakin' out.” “Well," Í you like a cake better ?" for she 'adn't took much with her tea. says, “if she's got the measles, birthday or no birthday, she didn't | Afore she could answer me, a feller put his 'and on my shoulder and ought to go, as is a great risk, through bein' liable for to check the give me a shake as made my teeth chatter agin, and says, “ If you eruption and prove fatal through a-turnin' in, as I've know'd ’appen outrages common decency like that I'll 'ave you out." I says, "Me myself, and only through a crack of the winder left open unawares.' outrage decency! you low-lived wagabone, it's you as is a-doing

“Oh,” she says, "she ain't got 'em 'erself as 'ad 'em favourable two that, a-pullin' any one about like that. 'Ow dare you lay your nasty year ago, but 'er little brother, as I see were a-sickenin' Sunday night 'ands on me, you old toothless baboon ?" and I can't leave 'im, for the fever runs 'igh of a night and that Parties all said “Shame." I says, “Shame, indeed, a insolent old fractious as he won't go near nobody but me, so I've just run in for to blackguard. I only wish I could get at you; Id pretty soon settle ask you if you'd mind a-takin' on 'er as won't give you no trouble, your 'ash.” and," she says, " you'll excuse me, but in course 'er pa will pay all Well, jest then there bust out sich a yell as made me pretty nigh expen ses.

jump out of my skin, as was all them children a singin' at once. I As I didn't think much on that promise myself, for he's a deal too says, “What a disgraceful noise for to make in a public place. Why much bounce for me. I didn't like for to be ill-natured, though I we shan't be able to 'ear nothink for them if they goes on like that." can't a-bear plays myself, and Mrs. CHAWDLEY showed me the tickets Jest then Emmy says, “Oh! Mrs. Brown, I'm so bad.” Oh! and if all right, as she said as 'er good gentleman 'ad took and paid for. So she 'adn't got 'old of my redicule, as she let drop with the cork out of I give way through not a-carin' much about it, for of all the spilt the bottle, and I felt my shoe a-fillin' with that liquor, and the child children as ever I did see them CHAWDLEYS is the wust. If you seed a-lookin' deadly pale. the figger as they sent that child in to me with a clean muslin frock I says, “Let me out; she's ill.” “Yes," says the sour-faced field. a-stickin' out all starch and flounces round 'er, with 'er 'air a mask of male, "and no wonder. You ought to be downright ashamed of ile and a blue sash with a 'at as were all rosebuds, and a scarlet jacket yourself to bring 'er up like that, as I see with 'er mouth to your as I wouldn't ’ave met a bull in was it ever so. She looked for all the bottle myself.”. world as though a-goin' to dance with the sweeps, and so I told 'er. I’adn't no time to say nothink, for they lifted Emwy out that rough

We 'ad a cup of tea and was off in good time, and sorry I am as I as 'er skirt come right off, and a nice objec' she looked, as no doubt 'ad 'ad my merino on, for the 'eat was jest a-settin' in. I took my redi- been at the bottle, for when we got into a little room where a party as cule with a few cakes in and bought a orange or two for the child, and looked arter the bonnets come to 'elp us, I smelt the child of sporrits 'ad a little drop of sperrits with me, as I don't ever consider as it's dreadful. I do think as I was over a 'our afore that gal was fit to be safe to go out without, for you never can tell what may 'appen. We moved through bein' that bad; and as we was a-goin' out, a-walkin' wasn't long a-gettin' of a 'bus, and of all the nuisances as ever I did along a passage, a solemn-lookin' man como up, and says, “ My good know in a buss it was that gal, as smelt werry foul of 'er 'air ile, and friend, I am sorry to see such a respectable-lookin' woman so far fo'get Forreted me for sugarstick and then would keep a-suckin' on it and 'erself.” “Oh," I says, " drop your preachin', I wants to get this daubin' of it all over 'erself and everythink else, and if she didn't put child 'ome.” a 'arf sucked oranged on the seat as a party a-comin' in all of a 'urry “Ah,” he says, "it's werry sad—and sich a' example-to come to a set down sudden on with a squash, as made 'im swear frightful, and serious meetin' and be’ave that scandalous.” I says, “What do you squirted it all over my gownd as the colour is fled for ever.

mean by sayin' as I acted scandalous ?”

“Why,” he says,

“interI don't think as we could ’ave been 'arf way there when if that child ruptin of the prayer.” didn't turn sick and I was obligatod for to get out of the 'bus just Í

вауѕ, “Me interrupt the prayers ? Why, I ain't been at no agin the oblisk, and walk every step of the way to the theayter we prayers. Yes," says the old baboon as 'ad shook me a-comin' up, was goin' to, as were the 'Delphy, and when we got there the gent at I see you, and would give you in charge now if it wasn't for this the door says, “Mum, this ticket is not for 'ere but the next one as worthy gentleman as wishes to use gentle means.” you'll come to on this side the way."

“Now,” I says, “I tell you what it is, you've assaulted me, as I can I was that 'ot and cross, and ready to die with thirst so 'ad a glass prove, and I could punish you." "Ah!” he says to the other party, of mild ale next door to that theayter, and give the gal a bottle of "didn't I tell you what she was, a downright disgrace to the meetin? ginger beer and walked on slow to the other theayter. We 'adn't got I says, “I didn't want none of your serious meetin's. I thought it two steps ’ardly from where we 'ad the refreshments, when Emmy, she was a theayter.” “Ah,” he groans, “I thought so." says, “Oh!" I says, “What's the matter po' She says, “Why the

"You keep yourself to yourself, and don't come &-talkin' to string as mother run through my musling frock's been and busted and me.” And I goes to the door, and says to a policeman, "Look out for the skirt's a-comin' off.”

a Waterloo 'bus for me," as said he would; but, bless you, three I looks round and sees a baker's shop as I took 'er into, and the passed quite full; and while we was a-waitin', I says to 'im, “What

I good lady were very civil and 'elped me to set that skirt to rights, and ever place is this ?” He says, “Exeter 'All." I says to EMMY," Now whatever you do don't fidget or you'll be all to I

says, “It's a theayter, ain't it?" He says, “ No, quite different;" bits in a instant."

and jest then up come a 'bus with two places, as took us to the As we went along there was parties werry pressin' with their oranges Elephant and Castle, where I was obliged to take a cab from, for that and play bills as I didn't require none on, tilî we come to a place where gal couldn't ’ardly crawl. And when I got 'er 'ome 'er mother did parties was a-goin' in by crowds and lots of children as was gettin' take on, a-sayin' as I'd pisened 'er with my filthy sperrits. out of 'buses and wans, and there was men a-standin' about the door I says, “she put 'er mouth to the bottle as hadn't more than a glass a-givin' away bills.

in it unawares." She says “It serves me right for a-trustin' my child, So I says to one party, “ Please can you tell me is this the theayter as is a young lady all over, to a wulgar old cook like you." as I'm a-goin' to.” He says, “It's a deal better than any theayter, I says, “I'd adwise you to put your young lady under the pump, partickler for a nice little gal like that.”

as is a disgustin' greedy little sp'ilt beast; and as to bein' a cook, I “Well," I says, “ if it's anything for children I should like 'er to says I never was, nor yet my mother kep a apple stall, as was 'er own

І see it, but will this ticket admit ?" Law when I come to look for it in aunt, I've 'eard say." She says, “ better keep a apple stall than be a my glove it was gone. I says, “Whatever shall I do," as must 'ave wile deceiver; why didn't you say, 'onest, as you wanted to go to left it in that baker's shop.

Exeter 'All, and not inwiggle my child.”. Says the party, werry civil, “Oh, never mind the ticket, we'll get I says, “Me want to go to Exeter 'All ?" I says; “I never 'eard you in without one." I says, “ Thank you kindly," and in 1 goes, but speak of the place. But," I says; "the next time as you sends your

I the children kep' a-swarmin' in, rude in their ways as I corrected them child out, dress 'er decent, and teach 'er not to be a 'og for greediness, myself, a-drivin' at anyone like mad up a staircase.

and spile her own things and everybody else's," and out of the 'ouse I When we got into the place it were a fine large room, though lookin' walked, and ain't spoke to Mrs. CHAwdler since, as teaches that gal dingy. I says, “ Look at the orgin, Emmy," as says, “Bother the to make faces at me over the blind with her wile ingratitude, and two orgin; I’ate a orgin.”

breadths of my merino that sp'ilt, as I don't believe as ever I shall be I didn't say nothin', but kep' a-movin' on till we got right under a able to match'in this world. gallery as was the only seat, and the 'ottest place as ever I were in, and them children crowded together all in front as didn't make the THE REAL BANK OP ELEGANCE.-A Goodwood slope on the Cup Day.

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I says,

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Tell me not in penny numbers,

Life is a distorted dream :
For tho soul your trash encumbers

With too much of that same theme.
Murder, misery, and madn988,

Permeate your dreary text,
Promise of still further sadness

Is "continued in our next."
Literature's honour saving,

Wipe that pen-in mercy wipe!
Hence, too, with the coarse engraving-

Hence, too, with the blunted type !
Paper of which you're a splasher

Better far employed will be
Wrapping-up the savoury rasher,

Or the humble ounce of tea.
Yes! the paper you embellish (!)

Could not surely fall more low,
With the rasher's rancid relish,

Or the tea that is but sloe !

The King of the Cannibal Isles.
I've taken my snack
Of white and off black,

In every kind of cuisine ;
I've swallowed whole troops
Of Lord May’rs in soups

Served up in a silver tureen.
I'm getting a-weary
Of mission-eery

And traveller barbecue ;
Of “porridge of laddie ;".
Of “broth o' boy"-Paddy

Served up in an Irish stew.
So my way I intend
To England to wend-

To satisfy hunger's ravages :
For most strongly I feel
That London-killed veal

Is a dish that is fit for savages !

Guard (slily, to our friend, who is pufing his brier-root) :—"'$CUSE ME, SIR;





When the REVEREND MR. TowSLEY wrote a funny farce called
Soft-as the smooth sea, spread o'er level sands ;

High Life Below Stairs, he little thought that the honour of a translaBalmy-as breeze that in the bright boughs breathes ; tion into the French tongue awaited him. Much less did the ingeniou Kind—as the kissing touch of kindred hands

adapter on the other side of the Channel imagine that a British playWhen palm with palm enwreathe ;

wright would pounce upon the second version of the farce and build a

third upon it. In Our Domestics, which is the work of MR. FREDERIC Warm-as the welcome winnowing of the West;

Hay, the master of the house becomes a married man, with a daughter Luscious—as labyrinths of lotos bloom;

given to sentiment. The inhabitants of the drawing-room are placed, Brisk-as the brine that curls the breaker's crest

by characteristic indiscretions, completely at the mercy of the inhabiGlad—as a gleam in gloom;

tants of the kitchen; consequently, the brazen orgies of the latter go Mild—as the murmur of meandering rill;

unpunished. It is absurdly improbable that an entire family (husband, Soft, balmy, kind, warm, sweet, brisk, glad as these,

wife, and daughter) would rush off to dine at FRANCATELLI's merely Illicit whiskey from an Irish still

because an expected guest fails to keep his appointment at their own Or-anything you please !

dinner-table. Nor is it very likely that the lady of the house would borrow fifty pounds of her cook; at all events, the cook would scarcely

be such an idiot as to volunteer the loan of that sum. MR. FREDERIC Man and Horse.

Hay can write rather lively dialogue, but he puns too much. People The Illustrated London News states that a gentleman lately deceased who pun so much as Mr. Hay should be locked up without food, and has left, among other charitable bequests, a sum of money “to M88. compelled to write burlesques ; that would either kill or cure them in Rich's fund, towards carrying out her philanthropic object in strewing about half a day. The performance of Our Domestics is very creditable gravel to help horses in ascending hills." The writer of the paragraph to the Strand company. MR. PARSELLE makes up admirably, and acts is in a logical fog evidently, and argues that, because some men are with great spirit. DIR. JAMES is more subdued than usual, and, theredonkeys, all horses are men. He must be good enough to correct his fore, much more effective. The sacrifice of his moustache is a feather blunder, for Mrs. Rich, instead of doing the Philanthropic, has been in his cap. Mk. T. Thorne plays a very fair part in a highly amusing indulging in Phil-hippics.


are all that can be wished; the first-named lady is especially to be “Oh, Day and Night, but this is Wondrous Strange!”

praised for her vivacity. The drawing-room scene is very well

arranged, but a little too red. The newspapers inform us that “the distinguished Indian, HOLE-INTHE-DAY, has recently married a white wife at Washington." We

The Fruit of a Route. blush to think we never heard of the distinguished Indian" before, SOMEBODY advertises that he will teach the French language to unless he is the well-known “Top of the mornin'” so familiar to Englishmen going to Paris—the lesson to be given en route. We should readers of Irish romance.

say such lessons en root would be radically imperfect.

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