"Men were Deceivers Ever."

Swell (at the Civil Service Co-Operative Store). "Haw! I want two or thwee Pounds—Bacon—and—aw—'blige me by doing it up like Box—Gloves or Flowers, or something o' that sort!!"

A Sinister Slip.

Smith. "Hullo, Brown! 'Been for your annual Collis——I mean your annual Excursion, yet?"
Brown was highly nervous, and this malign suggestion quite upset him. He spent his holiday at home!

Force of Habit.

City Merchant (blissfully dozing in his Country Church). "Season Ticket!!"

"Alma Mater."

Young Puncheonby "cuts" the Army, and goes to Oxford to read for "the Church."
Tutor. "You are Prepared in Subscribe to the Thirty-Nine Articles——"
Puncheonby (with alacrity). "Ah 'th pleash 'ah,—ah—how Mu-ch—."

Embarrassing.

Nervous Spinster (to wary Old Bachelor). "Oh, Mr. Marigold, I'm so Frightened! May I take hold of your Hand while we're going through this Tunnel?"

A Straightforward View.

High Church Curate. "And what do you Think, Mr. Simpson, about a Clergyman's Turning to the East?"
Literal Churchwarden. "Well, Sir, my Opinion is, that if the Clergy man is Goodlookin', he don't want to turn his Back to the Congregation!"

"The Better the Day." &c.

Rustic (to Curate who dabbles in Photography). "I'd be Turr'ble much Obliged, Zur, if you'd Map off my Pictur', Zur!"
Curate. "Well, my Man, I'll take your Likeness for you. When will you Come?"
Rustic. "Well, Zur, if you've no 'bjections, I be moastly Cleaned up and has moast Time o' Zunday Marnins, Zur!!"

A Distinction.

The "Good Parson" (to Applicant for Instruction in the Night School). "Have you been Confirmed, my Boy?"
Boy (hesitating). "Please, Sir—I—don't know——"
Parson. "You understand me; has the Bishop laid his Hands on you?"
Boy. "Oh, no, Sir; but his Keeper have, Sir—very often, Sir!!"

Considerate.

Churchwarden. "Tell ye what 'tis, Sir. The Congregation do wish you wouldn't put that 'ere Curate up in Pulpit—Nobody can't hear un."
Old Sporting Rector. "Well, Blunt, the Fact is, Tweedler's such a Good Fellow for Parish Work, I'm obliged to give him a mount sometimes."

Rustic Recollections.

Boy. "Please, Pa-arson, Mother wants some Soup."
The Rector. "But I told your Mother she must send Something to put it in."
Boy. "Oh, please, she've sent this year Pa-ail vor 'un, Pa-arson!!"

Not a "Silver Lining" to a Cloud.

Adolphus (grandly; he is giving his future brother-in-law a little dinner down the river). "Waitar, you can—ah—Leave us!"
Old Waiter. "Hem!—yessir—but—you'll Pard'n me, Sir—we've so many Gents—'don't wish to Impute nothink, Sir—but Master—'Fact is, Sir—(evidently feels a delicacy about mentioning it)—we're—you see, Sir—'Sponsible for the Plate, Sir!!!"

"What's in a Name?"

Waiter (to nervous invalid). "There's the old Church, Sir, close by, but some Visitors goes to St. Wobbleoe's, Sir. There the Clergyman preaches Distempery!!"
Clearly not the place for him, the old gentleman thinks, with a shudder.

A New Dish.

Sympathising Swell (waiting for some chicken). "You've got no Sinecure there, Thomas!"
Perspiring Footman. "Very Sorry, Sir—just 'elped the last of it away, Sir!"

Our Artist

IS NOT IN THE BEST OF TEMPERS. HE HAS BEEN DISTURBED OFTEN BY BARGES, AND BOTHERED BY THE BLUEBOTTLES, AND THEN HE'S ACCOSTED BY WHAT APPEARS TO HIM IN THIS IRRITABLE MOOD TO BE AN
Art-Critic (loq.) "The Picture looks Better a Goodish Bit off, Gov'nour!"
Artist (maddened). "Con—found——So do You, Sir!" Party makes off hastily, "not liking the looks of him."

Hunting Idiot,

RETURNING FROM THE CHASE, PROPOSES TO "CHAFF THAT ARTIST FELLER."
Huntsman. "What'll yer Take me for, Gov'nour?"
Painter (without the slightest hesitation). A Snob!

Boxing-Day.

(Mrs. Bustleton's favourite Cabman has called for his usual Christmas-Box in a state of——never mind.)
Mrs. B. "Oh, Sawyer, I'm Surprised—I thought you such a Steady Man! I'm sorry to see you given to Drink!"
Sawyer. "Beg y' Par'n Mum, no s'h 'hing Mum (hic). Drink 'ash gi'n t' me, Mum, 'sh Morn'n, Mum!!"

An Old Offender.

Country Gentleman (eyeing his Gardener suspiciously). "Dear, dear Mr. Jeffries, this is too Bad! After what I said to you Yesterday, I didn't think to Find you——"
Gardener. "You can't Shay—(hic)—I wash Drunk Yesht'day, Sh——!"
Country Gentleman (sternly). "Are you Sober this Morning, Sir?"
Gardener. "I'm—shlightly Shober, Shir!!"

Irrevocable.

Customer (for the Royal Wedding photograph). "Can't I have the Lady only? I don't so much want the Gentleman!!"
Young Person (with decision). "No, Sir; we can't Part them, Sir, now!"

Mrs. Jingleton. Learning that Young M Skirlygy

(From whose Family she Received such Politeness when she was in the Highlands) was in Town, and having Heard so much of his Playing, asks him to one of her Little Parties for Classical Music, and hopes he will 'Oblige' during the Evening.—Ha! Ha! She didn't Know what his Instrument was!

Arcadian Amenities.

Little Rustic (after a "game" struggle, evidently overweighted). "Oh, please, help us along 'ith this Linen up to Mother's——"
Amiable Swell (aghast). "Eh! Oh, ridiculous—how can I?—Look here, I've got a Bag—heavy Bag—to carry myself——"
Little Rustic. "I'll carry your Bag, Sir."
Swell. "Eh—but (to gain time) wh—what's your Mother's absurd Name?" This did not help him much. There was no escape; and ultimately——but we draw a veil over the humiliating sequel.

A Big Fish.

Artful Damsel (who has made a successful throw). "O, Lord Feubiggin, however shall I Manage——."
Lord Feubiggin (caught, two). "Pray let me Show you! All depends on how you Play your Fish!" We betray confidence for once. This Picture comes from a Letter sent by a newly-married Lady (now of title), to a particular Friend of hers, and is called a "Reminiscence of Scotland." Perhaps our Readers can guess at the Story—we cannot.

The Pic-Nic.

Playful Widow. "Jump me Down, Mr. Figgins!!"
The gallant little Man did his best, but fell—in her estimation for ever!

Artful—Very!

Mary. "Don't keep a Screougin' o' me, John!"
John. "Wh'oi bean't a Screougin' on yer!"
Mary (ingenuously). "Well, y' can i' y' like, John!"

"The Grey Mare!"

Mrs. B. (taking the reins). "No, Brown, I will not have the Pony backed! No! That Person must have seen us come into the Lane first; and if the Man's got common Politeness——"
Mr. B. "But, my dear, we've only just turned the——"
Mrs. B. "I don't care, Brown! No! I won't go back, if I stay here till——"
Farmer. "All right, Sir!—I'll back, Sir. I've got just such another Vixen at Home, Sir!"

How We Arrange Our Little Dinners.

Mistress. "Oh, Cook, we shall want Dinner for Four this Evening. What do you think, besides the Joint, of Ox-tail Soup, Lobster Patès, and an Entrèe—say, Beef?"
Cook. "Yes, 'M—Fresh, or Austr——?"
Mistress. "Let's see! It's only the Browns—Tinned will do!"

Conclusive.

Lodger. "I detect rather a disagreeable Smell in the House, Mrs. Jones. Are you sure the Drains——"
Welsh Landlady. "Oh, it can't be the Drains, Sir, whatever. There are none, Sir!!"

Our Manœuvres.

Captain of Skirmishers (rushing in to seize Picket Sentries of the Enemy). "Hullo! He-ar! You Surrender to this Company!"
Opposition Lance-Corporal. "Beg Pardon, Sir! It's the other Way, Sir. We're a Brigade, Sir!!!"

"Our Reserves,"—The Battle of Amesbury.

Aide-de-Camp. "Good Gracious, Sir! why don't you Order your Men to Lie Down under this Hill? Can't you See that Battery Playing right on them?"
Colonel of Volunteers. "So I did, Sir. But they won't Lie Down. They say they want to See the Review!!"

A Little Failing.

Nervous Old Lady. "Now, Cabman, you're Sure your Horse is Quiet? What's he laying Back his Ears like that for? Look!"
Cabby. "O that's only her Femi-nine Cur'osity, Mum. She likes to Hear where she's a Goin' to!"

The Connoisseurs.

Groom. "Whew's Beer do you Like Best—this 'ere Hom'brewed o' Fisk's, or that there Ale they gives yer at the White Ho's?"
Keeper (critically). "Well, o' the Tew I prefers this 'ere. That there o' Wum'ood's don't Fare to me to Taste o' Nawthun at all. Now this 'ere dew Taste o' the Cask!!"

"Io Bacche!"

Jeames. "Mornin', Mr. Jarvice. What's the News?"
Mr. J. (the old Coachman). "Well, I've 'eard the best bit o' News this Morning as I've 'eard for many a Day, from our Butler. He tell me the Win'yards is 'a comin' round,' and there's every Prospec' of our gettin' some more good Madeiry!!"

A Veteran.

Civil Service Captain. "Will—he—ah—stand Pow-dar?"
Dealer. "'Powder?' Why he was all through the battle o' Waterloo that Charger was!!"

"What's the Odds?"

Purchaser. "He's rather Heavy about the Head, isn't he?"
Dealer (can't deny it). "Well, Sir! (Happy thought.) But y'see, Sir, he'll hev to Carry it hisself!"

"There's Many a Slip" &c.

Waggles saw a splendid Three-pound Trout Feeding in a Quiet Place on the Thames one Evening last Week. Down he comes the next Night, making sure of him! But some other People had seen him too!!!

Lingua "East Anglia."

First Angler (to Country Boy). "I say, my Lad, Just go to my Friend on the Bridge there, and say I should be much Obliged to him if he'd Send me some Bait."
Country Boy (to Second Angler, in the Eastern Counties language). "Tha' there Bo' sahy he want a Wurrum!!"

A Luxurious Habit.

Philanthropist (to Railway Porter). "Then what Time do you get to Bed?"
Porter. "Well, I seldom what yer may call gets to Bed myself, 'cause o' the Night Trains. But my Brother, as used to work the P'ints further down the Line, went to Bed last Christmas after the Accident, and never——"
Train rushes in, and the Parties rush off.

The Golden Age Restored.

Young Lady (Through Passenger, at West Riding Station). "What's going on here to-day, Porter? Has there been a Fête?"
Porter (astonished). "Bless thee, Lass! there's nea Feightin' noo-a-days; 't's agin t' La-aw!—Nobbut a Flooer-Show!"

"No Accounting for Taste."

Materfamilias (just arrived at Shrimpville—the Children had been down a Month before). "Well, Jane, have you found it Dull?"
Nurse. "It was at fust, M'm. There was nothink to Improve the Mind, M'm, till the Niggers come down!!"

Sold Cheap.

Little Brown (to "Nigger Minstrel," who always addresses his listeners as "My Lord"). "Ah, how did you know my——ah—How did you know I was a Lord?" Sensation among the bystanders!
Minstrel. "Bless yer, my Lord, I never lose Sight o' my Schoolfellers!"
Roars of laughter. Little B. caves in, and bolts!

Selling Him a Pennyworth.

Philanthropist. "There's a Penny for you, my lad. What will you do with it?"
Sweeper. "What all this at Once! I'll Toss yer for it, Double or Quits!"

A Change for the Better.

Greengrocer. "Want a Penn'orth o' Coals, do yer? You won't be able to 'ave a Penn'orth much longer. They're a going up. Coals is Coals now, I can tell yer!"
Boy. "Ah, well, Mother'll be glad o' that, 'cause she says the last Coals she had o' you was all SLATES!!"

Colloquial Equivalents.

Papa. "Now, my dear Girls, your Brother is receiving a most Expensive Education, and I think that while he is at Home for the Holidays you should Try to learn Something from him."
Emily. "So we do, 'Pa. We've learnt that a Boy who Cries is a 'Blub,' that a Boy who Works Hard is a 'Swot'"——
Flora. "Yes, and that anybody you don't Like is a 'Cad;' and we know the Meaning of 'Grub,' 'Prog,' and a 'Wax'"

"The Meat Supply."

Bathing-Man. "Yes, Mum, he's a good old 'Orse yet. And he's been in the Salt Water so Long, he'll make capital Biled Beef when we're done with him!!!"

"Tracts."

First Navvy. "T' new Mission-ary gave me this 'ere Track just now, Bill."
Second Navvy. "Ain't seen him. What loike is he?"
First Navvy. "Little Chap—Preaches about eight Stun ten, I should Guess!"

"A Ticket of Leave."

Swell (who won't be done). "H'yars my Kyard if you'd—ah—like to Summon me."
Cabby (who has pulled up and heard the dispute). "Don't you take it, Bill. It's his Ticket o' Leave!"

A Pleasant Prospect.

Traveller (in Ireland). "Hi,—pull her up, man! Don't you see the mare is running away?"
Paddy. "Hould tight, yer 'Onor! For yer life don't touch the Reins!—sure they're as rotten as pears! I'll turn her into the River at the Bridge below here. Sure that'll stop her, the blagyard!"

Reassuring.

Traveller in Ireland (rheumatic, and very particular). "Now, I hope the Sheets are Clean!"
Kathleen (the Chambermaid). "Clane, Sor? Shure they're just Damp from the Mangle, Sor!!"

Woman's Rights.

Scotch Lady (who has taken a House in the Highlands, her Servants suddenly giving "warning"). "What's the Reason of this? Have you not all you want?—good Rooms, and good Fresh Air and Food, and Easy Work?"
Spokeswoman. "Yes, Mem—but—but there's no a decent Laad within Cry o' us!"

"Canny."

Sportsman. "That's a Tough old Fellow, Jemmy?"
Keeper. "Ay, Sir, a grand Bird to send to your Freens!"

Stern Pulpit Critics.

First Scot. "Fat Sort o' Minister hae ye gotten, Geordie?"
Second Ditto. "Oh, Weel, he's no muckle worth. We seldom get a Glint o' him. Sax Days o' th' week he's envees'ble, and on the Seventh he's encomprehens'ble!!"

The Commissariat.

Squire (to new Butler). "I have three or four Clergymen coming to Dine with me to-morrow, Prodgers, and——"
Mr. Prodgers. "'Igh or Low, Sir?"
Squire. "Well—I hardly——But why do you ask, Prodgers?"
Mr. Prodgers. "Well, you see, Sir, the 'Igh' drinks most Wine, and the 'Low' eats most Vittles, and I must perwide accordin!!"

Duty and Pleasure.

Rural Butler (deferentially). "And what do you Think of our Country Quality down here, Sir?"
Town Gentleman ("in waiting" to Lord Marybone, who was visiting the Squire). "Well, 'f course, you see, Smithars, I don't mind Waitin' on 'em,—but—'can't Say I should care to Sit Down with 'em"!!!

"Business!"

Bath-Chairman. "I s'pose the Duke of Edinboro' and his Missis will be by directly?"
Policeman. "No, they won't. They ain't in Town."
Bath-Chairman. "Ain't they?—I say, if that Old Lady in my Chair asts you, say 'you don't know,' 'cause she's a waitin' to see 'em, and I'm engaged by the Hour!"

Sacrifice.

Good Templar. "Tut—t—t—Really, Swizzle, it's Disgraceful to see a Man in your Position in this State, after the Expense we've incurred and the Exertions We've used to Put Down the Liquor Traffic!"
Swizzle. "Y' may Preash as mush as y' Like, Gen'l'm'n, bur I can tell y' I've made more Persh'nal Efforsh to (hic) Purrown Liquor than any of ye!"

Extenuating Circumstances.

Employer (on his way to business on Monday morning). "Ah, Saunders! I'm Sorry to see you in this Way. I thought you'd turned over a New Leaf!"
Saunders (repentant). "Sho I'ad, Shir, but (hic) 'tsh all along o' thesh 'ere Wa'er Co'panies—I 'sshure you, Shir, 'ere washn't 'Drop o' Wa'er in our Shisht'rn all Yesht'rday!!!"

A Definition.

Shoeblack (pointing to Unsteady Party by the lamp-post). "Tea-Totaller on 'the Strike,' Sir!"

Mystification.

Our young Landscape Painter's Preparations are Regarded with Intense Interest by the Village Juveniles, yet evidently expect a Gymnastic Entertainment—(he frames an Imaginary Picture with his Hands).
Omnes. "He's a goin' to say his Prayers fust!!"

Obliging.

Excursionist (to himself). "Ullo! 'ere's one o' them Artists. 'Dessay 'e'll want a Genteel Figger for 'is Foreground. I'll stand for 'im!!!"

Our Theatricals.

Brown (rehearsing his part as the "Vicomte de Cherisac"). "Yas, Marie! I've fondly Loved ye. (Sobs dramatically.) 'Tis well—but no mat-tar-r!"
Housemaid (to Cook, outside the Door). "Lauks, 'Liz'beth, ain't Master a givin' it to Missis!"

Flattering.

Housemaid (to Cook, behind the laurels). "He's a Haffable Young Man, that Cap'ain Limber, Missus's Brother. How Becomin' he'd Look in our Livery, wouldn't he?!!"

Comparisons.

Barber. "'Air's extr'ordinary Dry, Sir."
(Customer explains he has been in the Country, and out o' doors a good deal.)
"Ah! Jus' so, Sir. Ruination to the 'Air, Sir! If I was to be knockin' about 'Unting and Fishin', Lor', Sir, my 'Air wouldn't be in no better State than yours, Sir!!"

Delicately Put.

Customer. "I'm afraid I'm getting a little Bald!"
Operator. "Well, Sir, I think, Sir, when you attend Public Wuship, if I was you, I'd Sit in the Gallery."

A Rash Refusal.

Customer (flying from Importunate Tradesman). "No, thank you, nothing more, really! Not another Article, thank you! Good Morning!"
Escapes—ha! ha! refusing his own Umbrella!!

A Guilty Conscience.

Country Parson (to hard-drinking Old Pauper). "Why, surely, Muggridge, you were Relieved last Week from the Communion Alms!"
Muggridge. "Communion Arms, Sir! 'S true's I Stand here, never vas inside the 'Ouse in all my Life, Sir; Never heerd of it, Sir!"

Equal to the Situation.

The Parson. "Well, Lizzie, your Mother's come out of Prison, I hear. How is she now?"
Lizzie. "O, thanky', Sir, she's ev' so much Better. She've had capital Times in there. Father's out o' Work, and rather Poorly, so he got Took up Last Night!!"

The Convalescent.

New Curate (tenderly). "My good Man, what induced you to Send for me?"
Oldest Inhabitant. "What does he Say, Betty?"
Betty. "'Says what the Deuce did you Send for him, for!!"

Awkward!

Literal Servant Girl (to Brown, who was calling for the first time on the Dibsworths). "Please Sir, your Cabman say he don't half like the Look of this here Half-Crown you've give him!!"

"Suit Your Talk to Your Company."

Mrs. Clovermead. "And, Dan, you'll bring the Trap—(recollecting herself—her fashionable Cousin, from London, is on a Visit at the Farm)—We shall want the Carriage to Drive into the Town after Luncheon, Daniel."
Daniel. "Yes, Mum—(hesitating—he had noticed the correction)—Be I—(in a loud whisper)—be I to Change my Trowse's, Mum?"!!