SEASONABLE SONNET.
(By a Vegetarian.)
Yes, Christmas overtakes us yet once more.
The Cattle Show has vanished in the mists
Of time and Islington, but re-exists
In piecemeal splendour at the store.
Here, nightly, big boys blue are to the fore
With knives and choppers in their greasy fists;
And now, methinks, the wight who never lists
Yet hears the brass band on the proud first floor.
High over all rings "What d'ye buy, buy, buy?"
The meat is decked with gay rosette and bow,
While gas-jets beckon all the world and wife.
A cheerful scene? A ghastly one, say I,
Where mutilated corpses hang arow,
And in the midst of death we are in life.
As They Liked It.—We
read of the recent success at
Palmer's Theatre, New York,
of As You Like It, with all
the parts played by women. Of
course, everybody knows that
this was a complete reversal of
the practice of the stage in
Shakspeare's own day, when
the buskin was on the other
leg, so to speak; but we are
not told if the passage "Doublet
and hose ought to show
itself courageous to petticoat"
was transposed to "Petticoat
ought to show itself courageous
to doublet and hose."
This Settled It.—"He may
be irritable," observed Mrs. R.,
"but remember the old saying
that 'Irritation is the sincerest
form of flattery.'"
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ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK.
Critic. "How's the Book going, Old Man?"
Author. "Oh—all right, I fancy. The Press has noticed it
already. Yesterday's Roseleaves hails me as the coming
Thackeray!"
Critic. "Ah, I wrote that!"
Author. "Did you really? How can I thank you? On the
other hand, this week's Knacker says that I've been fortunately
arrested by Madness on the road to Idiotcy!"
Critic. "Ah, I Wrote that too!"
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