Vicar's Daughter. "Oh, Mr. Gufling, I've called this morning to tell you that for the parish charities we open our most interesting show of local antiquities and curiosities, and may I hope that you will kindly give it your countenance?"
Poetry of Nature.—When mist falls upon the earth, and freezes, it forms rime.
Customer. "You told me that 'oss 'ad won a dozen matches agin some o' th' best 'osses in the county. Why 'e can't trot a mile in ten minutes to save 'is life."
Dealer. "I didn't say 'e could. You never asked me what sort o' matches. It was in ploughin' matches 'e took the prizes!"