About the Interjection.—"An interjection is a shout or something said by a person too surprised or pained or frightened to make a sentence of his thoughts. It is not quite a human language. The lower animals say nothing else but interjections. Accordingly, ill-natured and cross people by their interjections come very near to beasts."
Concerning Robert.—"Policemen are men who are employed by the Government, to control the boys, ruffians, and all individuals which annoy or illuse the public. The boys politely term them 'coppers,' the burglars 'cops' or 'narks.' The cooks are very fond of him, and call him 'dear Robert,' and now they are going 'on strike' cooky will mourn, and the uneaten rabbit-pie will go into the dustbin, and there will be quite a gloom over the kitchens of Belgravia. There will be no kissing over the railings, and if Bobby don't keep his eyes open Tommy Atkins will collar the cake. Policemen must be over or a certain size, and must have (I believe) big pedular extremities, as all policemen's feet seem to be large. They have a fête, not foot, once a year, and then cooky gets a day off. Then they have kiss-in-the-ring, and other games, which introduce a mutual contraction of the Orbicularis Oris."
What I shall do in the Holidays.—"What I expect to do in my holidays is the greater part of the time to mind the baby. Two years and a-half old. Just old enough to run into a puddle or to fall downstairs. Oh! what a glorious occupation! my aunt or Sunday-school teacher would say, but it is all very well for them, they ought to have a turn with him. I am going to have a game at tying doors, tying bundles of mud in paper and then drop it on the pavement. I shall buy a bundle of wood and tie a piece of cord to it, and when someone goes to pick it up, lo! it has vanished—not lost, but gone before. I shall go butterfly catching, and catch some fish at Snob's Brighton (Lea Bridge). I shall finish up by having a whacking, tearing my breeches, giving a boy two black eyes, and then wake up on Monday morning refreshed and quite happy to make the acquaintance of Mr. ——'s cane." The following, written a little later, will convince every London teacher that R.H. had practised fishing in the New River:—"Man goes fishing, takes his rod and enough tackle to make a telegraph wire and starts on his piscatorial expedition. He arrives, and happy man is he if he has not forgot something, a hook, his bait, or his float. He sits there, apparently contented; he catches a frog or some other fine specimen of natural history, and a cold, and a jolly good roasting from his bitter half, when he arrives with some mackerel which he had bought at the fishmonger's. He, poor man, did not know that they were sea-fish, but his wife did. When juveniles go fishing they take a willow, their ma's reel of best six-cord, a pickle jar, and a few worms, and proceed to the New River happy. When they arrive they catch about fifty (a small thousand they call it), and are thinking of returning home, when a gent with N. R. on his hat, and a good ash stick in his hand, comes up. 'Ullo there,' says he, 'what are you doing there?' 'Fishing, sir,' answer they meekly. The man then takes away their fish and rod, gives them some whales instead (on their back). And they return home sadder but wiser boys."