HORRIBLE RESULT OF USING THE "EGYPTIAN FUR-TILISER."
"A cargo of 180,000 mummified Cats has just been landed at Liverpool, to be used as Manure."—Daily Paper.
ROBERT'S COMPANIONS.
I'm a beginning for to think as we're rayther a rum lot in this werry strawnery world of ours. I've jest bin a collectin from sum of my brother Waiters sum of their little historys, as far as they remembers 'em, and werry strange and werry warious sum on 'em is. There's one pore chap who's about as onest and as atentif a Waiter as I nos on anywheres, but you never, no never, ewer sees him smile, not ewen wen a ginerus old Deputy, or a new maid Alderman, gives him harf-a-crown! I've offen and offen tried to cheer him hup with a good old glass of ginerus port, wen sum reglar swells has bin a dining and has not emtied the bottels—as reel Gennelmen never does—but never quite suck-seeded, tho' he drank down his wine fast enuff and ewidently injoyed it quite as much as if he'd paid for it, praps jest a leetle bit more. So one day I wentured to arsk him how it was as he was allers as sollem as a Churchwarden at a Charity Sermon, or a Clown in summer time, and he told me as it was all causd by the suckemstances of his hurly life, which he had never been abel to shake off hisself, pore Fellar! tho' they was none of 'em his own fault, which they was as follers.
To begin with. He was born on a Fryday, on the 1st of April, and amost all his days for years after seems to have been either Frydays or Fust of Aprils, sumtimes one, sumtimes tother, sumtimes both. He was the youngest of eleven children, and so made the family party consist of 13, always as we all knos a unlucky number, and he seemed to have been treeted as if it had bin his own fault, which in course it wasn't, not by no means, no more than it was his fault the having the Skarlet Fever on one Crismus Day, which he did to heverybody's disgust.