SOCIAL ECONOMY.
Mrs. Scrooge. "I'm writing to ask the Browns to meet the Joneses here at Dinner, and to the Joneses to meet the Browns. We owe them both, you know."
Mr. Scrooge. "But I've heard they've just Quarrelled, and don't speak!"
Mrs. Scrooge. "I know. They'll refuse, and we needn't give a Dinner Party at all!"
"MY CURATE."
[The Law Times mentions that a photograph of a well-dressed and good-looking gentleman has been sent to it, with the words "My Advocate" beneath. On the back are the name and address of a Solicitor.]
Scene—Drowsiham Vicarage. Vicar and Family discovered seated at breakfast-table. Time—Present.
The Vicar. I only advertised for a Curate in last Saturday's Church Papers, and already I have received more than sixty applications by the post, all of them, apparently, from persons of the highest respectability, whose views, too, happen to coincide entirely with my own! Dear me! I suppose these may be called the "Clerical Unemployed."
Elder Daughter (giddily). Pa! Have any of them sent photos?