AN INJURED BROTHER.
Mamma. "DEAR! DEAR! DEAR!—WHAT A PITY IT IS YOU CAN'T AGREE!"
Small Boy. "WELL, MAMMA, WE SHOULD AGREE, ONLY SHE'S SO UNKIND!—SHE WON'T BE A PIG, AND LET ME DRIVE HER ABOUT BY THE LEG!"
THOSE HORRID BOYS AGAIN!
Boy (to distinguished Volunteer.) "NOW, CAPTING! CLEAN YER BOOTS, AND LET YER 'AVE A SHOT AT ME FOR A PENNY!"
GOING OUT OF TOWN.