Silly Suffolk (?) Pastorals. Reciprocity.

Parson. "I have Missed you from your Pew of late, Mr. Stubbings——"
Farmer (apologetically). "Well, Sir, I hev' been to Meet'n' lately. But—y' see, Sir, the Reverend Mr. Scowles o' the Chapel, he bought some Pigs o' me, and I thought I ought to gi' 'm a Tarn!!"

Lapsus Linguæ.

Our Athletic Curate (who, with the young men of his parish, had been victorious in a great match the day before; please forgive him this once, only). "He-ar Endeth the First Innings!!"

The Archery Meeting.

Curate (to Fair Stranger). "I perceive you are not a Toxophilite!"
Fair Stranger (promptly). "Oh dear no! 'Church of England,' I assure you!"

Grandiloquence

Captain of Schooner. "What 'a' you got there, Pat?"
Pat. (who has been laying in some Firewood and Potatoes). "Timber and Fruit, yer Honour!!"

Levelling Up.

Sub. (just arrived by rail). "How much to the Barracks?"
Car-Driver. "Ah, shure thin, Captin, the Manest ov 'em gives me T'ree and Sixpence!"

Rural Simplicity.

"Been to School, Little Lassie?" "Ay, Sir." "Good Girl—there's a Penny for you." "Thank you, Sir. I'll hae to be steppin'—but awm gaun to Skeull i' the Mornin'—wull ye be this way i' the Efterneun?!"

Catechism under Difficulties.

Free Kirk Elder (preparatory to presenting a Tract). "My Friend, do you Know the Chief End of Man?"
Piper (innocently). "Na, I dinna mind the Chune! Can ye no Whustle it?"!!

In Vino Memoria.

Major Portsoken (a pretty constant Guest). "I say, Buchanan, this isn't—(another sip)—the same Champagne——!"
Scotch Butler. "Na, that's a' dune! There was Thrutty Dizzen; and ye've had yere Share o't, Major!!"

Mind and Matter.

Augustus (poetical). "Look, Edith! How Lovely are those fleecy Cloudlets dappled over the——"
Edith (prosaic). "Yes. 'Xactly like Gravy when it's getting Cold. Isn't it?"!!

Perspective!

In Criticising and Correcting his Pretty Cousin's Perspective, of course Frederick's Face must be as nearly as possible in the same Place as Hers!—TABLEAU!—Pa (in the Background) is evidently making up his Mind to see about this! Note. Fred hasn't a rap!

Those Dreadful Boys!

Algernon. "And, dearest, if the Devotion of a Life——" (At this moment his hat is knocked over his eyes by a common Starfish, or Five-fingers (Asterias rubens), thrown, with considerable force and precision, by one of those infern——high-spirited little fellows her younger brothers, Tommy and Bertie)!!!

Profanation.

Gent. "I left a Lock of Hair here a few days ago to be Fitted in a Locket, is it—ah—ready?"
Artiste. "Very sorry, Sir, it has been mislaid. But it's of no consequence, Sir—we can easily get it Matched, Sir."!!

"Turn About."

George. "I say, Tom, do take care! You nearly Shot my Father then!"
Tom. "'Sh! Don't say anything, there's a good Fellow! Take a Shot at mine!!"

Making Things Pleasant.

Irishman (to English Sportsman). "Is it Throuts? Be jabers, the Watther's stiff wid 'em!!!"
"Regardless of strict truth, in his love of hyperbole and generous desire to please," as our Friend recorded in his Diary after a blank day.

Angling Extraordinary.

Customer (in a great hurry). "A Small Box of Gentles, please. And look Sharp! I want to Catch a 'Bus'!!"

"Happy Thought."

Mistress (who had come down to see about the Bass Voice she had heard in the Kitchen—Guardsman discovered!). "O, you Deceitful Girl, to say there was Nobody here! And after I'd given you distinctly to understand I didn't allow 'Followers'; and here, you haven't been here a Week——"
Cook. "Lauks, M'm, it must be one o' the Follerers as the last Cook left be'ind 'er!!"

Romance of the Kitchen.

Cook (from the Area). "O, 'Liza, gi' me my Winigrette—I've 'ad a—offer—from the Dustman!!"

"Compliments of the Season."

Comely Housemaid. "O, Mr. James, I'm so Frightened in the Railway! Suppose the Biler was to Bust!"
Mr. James. "Then, my Dear, you'd be a Singin' among the Angels in about Ten Minutes!!"

"Ready!"

Emily. "What's Capital Punishment, Mamma?"
Master Harry. "Why, being Locked up in the Pantry! I should consider it so!"

Dear, Dear Boy!

George. "Oh! Shouldn't I just like to see Somebody in that Den, Aunt!"
Serious Aunt. "Ye-es. Daniel, I suppose, dear?"
George. "Oh no, Aunt; I mean 'Old Twigsby,' our Head-Master!!"

"Brother Brush."

Ship-Painter. "Nice Dryin' Weather for our Business, ain't it, Sir?"
Amateur (disconcerted). "Ya-a-s!"——
Takes a dislike to the place.

The Compliments of the (Sketching) Season.

Papa. "There, Henry! If you could do like that, I'd have you taught Drawing, my Boy!"

A Pleasant Prospect.

English Tourist. "I say, Look here. How far is it to this Glenstarvit? They told us it was only——"
Native. "Aboot Four Miles."
Tourist (aghast). "All Bog like this?"
Native. "Eh—h—this is just Naethin' till't!!"

Compliments of the Season.

Squire (who interests himself with the Moral and Material Condition of his Peasantry). "Hullo, Woodruff! what an eye you've got! How did you get that?!"
Labourer. "O, it's nawthin' Partic'lar, Sir. Last Night—at the White 'Art, Sir. But—(in extenuation)—Chrishmash Time, Sir—on'y Once a Year!"

Two Sides to a Question.

Squire. "Your Name Smith?"
Smith. "Yessir."
Squire. "Ah, I understand you're the Man who gives so much Trouble to my Keepers!"
Smith. "Ax yer Pardon, Squire, your Keepers is much more Trouble to me!"

Suspicion!

Stout Visitor (on discovering that, during his usual Nap after Luncheon, he has been subjected to a grossly personal Practical Joke). "It's one o' those Dashed Artists that are Staying at the 'Lord Nelson' 'a' done this, I know!"

Depression.

Scene—The Exchange. Industrial Centre.
First Commercial Man (dryly). "Mornin'!"
Second ditto (coldly). "Mornin'!"
First C. M. (hopelessly). "Owt?"
Second ditto (mournfully). "Nowt!"
First C. M. (gloomily). "Mornin'!"
Second ditto (despairingly). "Mornin'!"
They part.

Reductio ad Absurdum.

Stout Party (the first time he went for his Dividends since his Aunt left him that Legacy). "Where do you Go for these Dividend Warrants?"
Bank Beadle. "What Stock, Sir?"
Stout Party. "Well, Three per Cent. Something "——(The word stuck in his throat).
Bank Beadle. "Ah!—(giving him the Information, and saying the word for him)—Redooced, Sir!!"
Stout Party sighs, and exit.

"The More Haste the Less Speed."

Intelligent Peasant (who has been overlooking our Artists with much interest). "Yar Mate's a Stainin' o' his'n a'ready, Sir!"

The Point of View.

Tomkins (he has heard his friend Stodge talk so much about that lovely spot Wobbleswick, whither he was going sketching, that he was induced to accompany him. A day has elapsed, and he is awaking to the horror of his situation!) "Seems to me an Infern——I call it rather a Dull Place!"
Stodge. "Dull, my Dear Fellow! How can you Say so? Look at this Beautiful, Breezy Common! And the Lines of those Old Houses on the Beach, breaking the Horizon, and the Colour! And the Jolly Quiet of the Place! None o' your Beastly Barrel-Organs or Gaping Tourists Swarming about! I thought you'd Like it!!"

"Lucus a Non" &c.

Visitor. "How long has your Master been away?"
Irish Footman. "Well, Sorr, if he'd come Home yistherday, he'd a' been gone a Wake to-morrow; but ev he doesn't return the Day afther, shure he'll a' been away a Fortnight next Thorsday!!"

Hyperbole.

Saxon Sportsman. "Any Snipe about here, my Man?"
Pat. "Snipes, is it?! Faix, they're ginerally jostlin' 'ach other hereabouts!"

Real Irish Grievance.

Irish Model (requested to put on rather a dilapidated costume). "The blissed Saints dirict me into this Coat, Sor!"

Our Inspection.

Lieutenant-Colonel. "Hullo! Confound it! There's a Man blowing his Nose—and with a Pocket-Handkerchief, too! Tut-t-t-t-t!"

Hunting Appointments.

Scientific Colonel. "Are you going to the 'Kriegspiel' to-morrow?"
Cavalry Sub. (Hunting Man). "Augh! 'Think not, Sir. Augh! 'Meet the-are, do they? Nevar heard of the Place! Wherwe on Earth is i—t?"!!

Encouraging!

Riding-Master (to Sub. belonging to one of the new Mounted Batteries). "Well, Sir! You're all 'of a Heap' on the Horse's Neck—you've Lost your Sword and your Forage-Cap, and you've Lost your Stirrups—and——you'll Lose Yourself next!!"

"It's an Ill Wind" &c.

Sporting Sub. "I should like to have my Leave as soon as possible, Colonel, for I've just heard my Father's had a bad Fall out Hunting."
Colonel. "Dear me! I'm sorry to hear that! I hope He's not Hurt!"
Sporting Sub. "Oh, it isn't that!—only I want to have his Horse!!"

Particular!

Adjutant of Volunteers (to Recruit). "Well, Sir, and what Company do you wish to be in?"
Recruit. "Augh! I've been—ah—used to the Co'pany of—ah—Ge'tlemen, Sir!!!!"

The Last Word.

Cabby (to stately Party, who has given him his legal Fare). "Makin' yer Fortune, Sir, no doubt!"
Swell (not exactly catching the Remark). "Eh?"
Cabby. "You're a layin' by a good bit o' Money, Sir, I'll be bound!"
Swell (indignantly). "What d'you mean, Sir?"
Cabby. "Why you don't Spend much, seemin'ly!"
Drives off in triumph.

A Dilemma.

Cabby. "Ere's a go, P'liceman! What am I to do?—I vos Ordered to take these 'ere Gents as 'a been a Dinin' you see, to their 'spectable 'omes, vun vos for 'Anover Square, another for the HALBANY, and the tothers elseveres——vell, they vos all carefully Sorted ven I Started, an' now they've been an' gone an' mixed The'rselves up, an' I don't know vich is vich!!"

Too True!

Mamma. "My dear Child, where did you Get that dreadful Scratch on your Arm?"
Little Ada. "Oh, 'Ma, it was 'Lisbeth's big Brass Brooch with the Green Glass in it, that the Tall Soldier gave her!"

"Once for All."

Mistress. "By the Way—Anna—Hannah—I'm not Sure. Is your Name Anna, or Hannah?"
New Cook (tartly). "Which my Name is Anna, Mum—Haich, Ha, Hen, Hen, Ha, Haich,—'Anna'"——
Mistress (giving it up in despair). "Ah! Thank you."

Up and Down Stairs.

Young Mistress (at the Parlour Door). "Eliza, what is that Bell Ringing for so violently?"
Cook (below). "It's on'y me, M'um. I want you down in the Kitching a Minute!!"

Terms—Cash.

Lady Bountiful. "Here, my good Man, here's a Ticket for the Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendi——"
Professional Beggar (with a sneer). "O, Thanky for Nothink, Mum, Hours is a Ready Money Business!"

Gratitude.

Fastidious Vagrant. "And they ain't 'alf Buttered! I could 'a Done as well if I'd Gone up the Lane to the 'Union!'"

Music of the Future. Sensation Opera.

Manager (to his Primo Tenore, triumphantly). "My dear Fellow, I've brought you the Score of the new Opera. We've arranged SUCH a Scene for you in the Third Act! o' board of the Pirate Screw, after the Keelhauling Scene, you know! Heavy rolling Sea, eh?—Yes, and we can have some real Spray pumped on to you from the Fire-Engine! Volumes of Smoke from the Funnel, close behind your Head—in fact, you'll be enveloped as you rush on to the Bridge! And then you'll Sing that lovely Barcarolle through the Speaking-Trumpet! And mind you hold tight, as the Ship blows up just as you come upon your high D in the last bar!!!"

Club Law.

Waiter. "Did you Ring, Sir?"
Member (trying to be calm). "Yes. Will you Wake this Gentleman, and say I should be Obliged if he'd let me have the Spectator, if he's not Reading it."
Old Wacklethorpe has been asleep, with the Paper firmly clutched, for the last two hours.

"'High' Life Below Stairs!"

Master (sniffing). "There's a most extraordinary Smell, James. I've noticed it several——"
Hall Porter. "I don't wonder at it, Sir. I've spoke about it Down-Stairs. The Butler, Sir, you see is ''Igh Church,' which he 'as fit up a Horatory in the Pantry, and burns Hincense. We could stand that; but the Cook is the 'Low Church' persuasion, and she burns Brown Paper to hobviate the Hincense. It's perfectly hawful on Saints' Days, Sir!!!"

Wages and Wives.

Philanthropic Farmer. "Well, Tomkins, after this Week, instead of paying you partly in Cider, I shall give you Two Shillings extra Wages."
Tomkins. "No, thanky', Master; that won't do for Me!"
Farmer. "Why, Man, you'll be the Gainer; for the Cider you had wasn't worth Two Shillings!"
Tomkins. "Ah, but you see I Drinks the Cider myself; but the Ow'd Ooman 'll 'ev the Two Shillun'!!"

Pursuit o' Knowledge!

First Agricultural (quite a Year after our Branch had been Opened). "What be they Post-es vur, Mas'r Sam'l?"
Second Ditto (Wag of the Village). "Why, to carry the Telegraft Woires, Gearge!"
First Ditto. "What be the Woires vur, then?"
Second Ditto. "What be the Woires Fur? Why, to hoold up the Post-es, sart'n'y, Gearge."!!!

A Nice Prospect!

Traveller (benighted in the Black Country). "Not a Bedroom disengaged! Tut-t-t-t!"
Landlady (who is evidently in the Coal Business as well). "Oh, we'll accommodate you somehow, Sir, if me and my 'Usband gives you up our own Bed, Sir!"

Boon Companions!

Bargee. "What! Ge-arge!"
Rustic grins in response.
Bargee. "I'm allus main Glad to see thee, Ge-arge!"
Rustic. "Whoy?"
Bargee. "'Cause I know there must be a Public-'Ouse close by!"

Bereaved.

First Pitman. "Thou hessent been at the Toun lately, Geordie. Hoo's that, Man?"
Second Pitman. "Thou knaws the Dog's deed, and aw kennet getten another; an' a Chap lecks sa Fond witout a Dog!"

Geology.

Scientific Pedestrian. "Do you Find any Fossils here?"
Excavator. "Dunno what yuh Calls 'Vossuls.' We Finds Nowt here but Muck and 'Ard Work!"

The Morning Concert.

Swell (doesn't care for music himself). "My dear, is this—ah—(yawns)—Te-Dium ovar?"!!

A Cool Card.

Swell (handing "Sporting Life" to Clerical Party). "Aw—would you—aw—do me the Favour to wead the List of the Waces to me while we're wunning down?—I've—aw—forgotten my Eyeglass. Don't mind waising your Voice—I'm pwecious deaf!"

"Relapse."

Squire. "Why, Pat, what are you doing, Standing by the Wall of the Public-House? I thought you were a Teetotaller!"
Pat. "Yes, yer Honnor. I'm Just listenin' to them Impenitent Boys Drinking Inside!"

"In Confidence."

Hungry Customer. "'Taint Bad."
Chef. "Glad you Like it; for, to Tell yer the Truth, a'though I've been a Makin' o' this Soup for Fifteen Year, I ain't never Tasted it Myself!!"

"The Struggle for Existence."

Darwinian Coster (to thrifty Housewife). "Well, Fish is dear, Mum; you see it's a-gettin' wery sca'ce in consekence o' these 'ere Aqueriuns!"

A Satisfactory Character.

Mrs. Brisket (about the Squire's new Bride). "Oh, yes, Mum, She come in 'ere Yesterday, Mum. Bless Yer! a Puffect Lady. Mum! Don't know one J'int o' Meat from another, Mum!!"

Hard Up on a Wet Day.

Richard. "What are you Ringing for, Bob?"
Robert. "The Beef!"
Richard. "You're never going to eat Beef again, Bob, are you? Why it isn't Half-an-hour since Breakfast!"
Robert. "Well, I'm not exactly Hungry, but one must do Something!"

Incombinable Elements.

First Medical Student. "What are you Sighing for, Jack?"
Second Ditto. "Ugh! I was thinking of that infernal Chemistry Cram to-Morrow, and what a deuced Pretty Girl I saw in Gower Street just now!!"

A Desperate Case!

First Driver. "How's poor Bob?"
Second Driver. "Oh, he's a good deal better—takes his Lotions more Reg'lar——"
First Driver (reassured). "Ah!"

"Bon Voyage!"

Bus-Conductor (to Portly Female, who was indignant at having been carried a little beyond her destination). "Well, there y'are, Mum, Fust to yer Left. Y'aint got so very Far to Go, and the Wind's at yer Back!!"

Personal!

Driver (impatient). "Now then, Bill!"
Conductor. "O, Look Alive, please, M'm! (To the Driver.) Can't help it! All in the 'Antique' Line this Mornin'! 'Ere's Three more on 'em!" "'Antique,' indeed! Odious Wretch!" thought one of the parties alluded to.

"The Conscience Clause"

Rector's Wife. "And what's your Father, my Boy?"
Boy. "My Father's a 'Hagitator,' an' he says he won't have me learnt no Catechism, 'r else you'll all of yer ear ov it!"

Education.

Squire. "Hobson, they Tell me you've taken your Boy away from the National School. What's that for?"
Villager. "'Cause the Master ain't fit to Teach un!"
Squire. "O, I've heard he's a very good Master."
Villager. "Well, all I knows is, he wanted to Teach my Boy to Spell 'Taters' with a 'P'!!!"

"Exempli Gratia."

Ancient Mariner (to credulous Yachtsman). "A'miral Lord Nelson! Bless yer, I knowed him; served under him. Many's the Time I've as'ed him for a Bit o' 'Bacco, as I might be a Astin' o' you; and says he, 'Well, I 'ain't got no 'Bacco,' jest as you might say to me; 'but here's a Shillin' for yer,' says he"!!

Dignity.

Shipping Clerk. "Are you the Mate o' the 'Maggie Lauder,' of Stonehaven?"
Mate (sternly). "Ask if I'm the Fir-r-r-st Officer, young Man, an' maybe I'll gie ye an Answer!"