Inspector. What is a Red Indian's baby called? (Silence. At last a boy volunteers.) Well, my boy?
Boy. Please, sir, a squaker!
A CAUTION TO LITTLE BOYS AT THIS FESTIVE SEASON
Mamma. "Why, my dearest Albert, what are you crying for?—so good, too, as you have been all day!"
Spoiled Little Boy. "Boo-hoo! I've eaten so—m-much be-eef and t-turkey, that I can't eat any p-p-plum p-p-pudding!"
[Oh, what a very greedy little fellow.