THE SCHOOL OF DESIGN.
In chronicling the designs of this school for the past and forthcoming year, we cannot fall in with the abuse lavished upon it by some of our contemporaries. We believe, from many others, that the following will be most likely to interest our readers:—
A design for a new dance against next season, by the Terpsichorean professors, to meet the depression in their trade, since everybody knew the Polka.
A design of the journalists of England to make the gentlemen of the bar understand their proper position.
A design of the journalists of France to attribute their thrashing in Algeria to the gold of "perfide Albion."
A design of the Times newspaper to expose the railway swindles and burst all the bubbles.
A design of certain medical students against the knockers and bell-pulls near Guy's and St. Thomas's.
A design for a human oven, to enable savage aborigines to cook their victims instead of eating them raw, by Colonel Pelissier; a laudable attempt to exhibit the refinements of French colonization.
THE ZODIAC-AUGUST.
VIRGO.—THE OLD MAID.
[Scene—A Tea Table.]
You like it weak, Miss Patience Crab,—the same, just as the last?
(As I was saying, all those Smiths are living much too fast.)
One lump of sugar more, my dear? Thank you, that's just the thing.
(No income can support those trips to London every spring—)
Another crumpet, dear Miss Quince—nay, just one tiny bit?
(The set the girls made at Sir John did not turn out a hit.)
Poor Carlo don't seem very well; I think he has caught cold—
(The eldest girl is passable, I own, but much too bold.)
The poor dear darling little dog is anything but strong.
(Depend upon it, we shall hear of something going wrong.)
Another cup, love? Sugar? Milk? I hope you like your tea?
(I don't mean to insinuate—no matter—we shall see.)
Now let me recommend the cake; you'll find it very nice.
(I really hope that those poor Smiths will take some friend's advice.)
[Cats and dogs begin to fight—parrot screams—confusion.
The conversation is broken up.]