With compressed lips he walks to the Butcher, and says, “You have got the best of me; I’ll give in.  Stop the fighting.”  BILLY, overjoyed at the victory, embraces him, and is about to give the order for retreat, when the wily Baker whispers, “The shop is there yet, and it is that that troubles us as much as the man.  Let us keep at it till we demolish it, and thus put a stop to all future controversy.  After killing the old fox, don’t leave a nest of young ones to grow up and bite us.  What is their loss is our gain, you know.  Do you understand?” “Yah, Yah!”

* * * * *

Latest from Below.

An unsophisticated young imp, who had not long been in Hades, was cowering over a small fire in a distant corner, endeavoring to keep from freezing, when his Impious Majesty himself heard the youth soliloquizing:  “When will LIE BIG, the editor of the Sun, keep me company?” “You blockhead!” exclaimed his Majesty, “LIE BIG, the editor of the Sun, is not coming back for some time; he is of more service to me on earth, making converts for my jurisdiction, than the public are probably aware.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  ENGAGEMENT IN HIGH LIFE.

Perhaps it is not generally known that Miss SUSAN B. ANTHONY desires to leave one field only that she may enter another; in other words, that the lady contemplates marriage.  Our authority is uncertain whether the prospective groom is one of our border aborigines or an ex-Fenian leader of noted gallantry.  We have, however, ventured upon the following sketch illustrative, in advance, of the reception, and which, in the absence of more explicit information, we may as well call—­

ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRICK.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  A CARPET GENERAL.

Brigadier-General Woodford.  “DEAR ME, WHAT A DISAGREEABLE SMELL!  WONDER WHAT IT CAN BE?”

Lady.  “OH!  THAT’S GUNPOWDER, GENERAL.”

Brigadier-General Woodford.  “GUNPOWDER?—­AW!  IS IT?  NEVER SMELT ANYTHING OF THE KIND BEFAW.”]

* * * * *

HIGH-HANDED OUTRAGE.

EDITOR OF PUNCHINELLO:  Sir:—­I am the young lady, travelling in New Jersey (perhaps they will next make a crime of that!), and mentioned in a recent paragraph as having been asked by a person (called a man) “if this was ELIZABETH?”

I insist, Sir, that I was right in resenting, as I did, the impudent familiarity of this person (called a man), who, after sitting for an hour or two in perfect silence (having first intruded himself into the seat beside me without making any kind of apology), abruptly turns to me and says, “Is this ELIZABETH?”

I insist, Sir, that I was right in asking the ruffian what he meant.  Consider the abruptness, Sir, of this question—­this selfish question, as it turned out, after a grim and gruff silence of an hour and a quarter.  Could not this unamiable person (called a man), have prepared me for it by a few moments’ affable conversation?  Why should he dare intrude his “Is this ELIZABETH?” with such brutal abruptness?  Not a sudden proposal from one of my numerous suitors could have startled me more.