sitch a jolly good time of it, that they are allers as reddy to cause a larf as to enjoy one.  We all seemed sumhow to miss the werry Prime Minister—­we are all so acustomd to see the werry top of the tree, that we don’t quite like being put off with a mere bow, however big and himportant it may be; besides, I must confess as I do like to hear his luvly woice, ewen when I don’t quite unnerstand all as he says.  So I don’t suppose as any one of my numerus readers will quarrel with me when I says, better luck nex time.

Robert.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Candid criticism.

“Like my new Frock, aunt Jane?”

“Well, I should say you’d got skirts for your sleeves, and A sleeve for your skirt!”]

* * * * *

Proofs before letters.

  Humbugs will always ape their betters,
    Fools fancy the alphabet brings them fame;
  But you don’t become a man of letters
    By tacking the letters after your name. 
  One suffix only the fact expresses,
  And that’s an A and a couple of S’s!

* * * * *

Another meaning.—­I Rantzau is the title of MASCAGNI’S new Opera.  The title, anglicised, would be suitable for an old-fashioned transpontine melodramatic tragedian, who could certainly say of himself, “I rant so!”

* * * * *

Shakspearian conundrum.

At what time would SHAKSPEARE’S heroine of The Taming of the Shrew have been eminently fitted to be a modern Sunday-School teacher?

Answer. When Petruchio kissed her; because then she was a Kattie Kiss’d. (Hem!  A Cate-chist.)

* * * * *

ALL ROUND THE FAIR.

NO.  I.

SCENE—­A street of Gingerbread, Sweetstuff, and Toy-stalls, “Cocoa-nut Shies,” “Box-pitching Saloons,” &c., forming the approach to the more festive portion of the Fair, from which proceeds a cheerful cacophony of orchestrions, barrel-organs, steam-whistles, gongs, big drums, rattles, and speaking-trumpets.

Proprietors of Cocoa-nut Shies. Now, then, play up all o’ you—­ar-har!  There goes another on ’em! That’s the way to ’it ’em—­win all yer like, &c.

A Rival Proprietor (pointing to his target, through the centre of which his partner’s head is protruded).  Look at that!  Ain’t that better nor any coker-nut?  Every time you ’it my mate’s ’ed, you git a good cigar! (As the by-standers hang back, from motives of humanity.) ’Ere, ’ave a go at ‘im, some o’ you—­give ’im a little encouragement!