Or bumped against a drunk muzhík, that brought you to the ground.
Whate'er it was, the fact remains, your fatal lack of skill
In "Peter" future lady-bikes has stopped for good or ill—
Come over, then, to London, and enjoy your daily spill!
Poker Chips from the Gold Coast.—By rejecting Great Britain's ultimatum, the King of Coomassie has paid his "ante." The next move will—in all probability—be the surrender of his Ash-antee.
Appropriate.—By what law are water rates settled? By Torren(t)s' Act.
A New Terror in the London Streets.—The Policeman.