"I can't write seasonable verses," replied Our Festive Poet, "until I've had my Christmas dinner, and then I'm mincepie-r'd!"
EXCELSIOR!
She. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE A MUSICIAN; HERR MÜLLER.
He. "A MUSICIAN? ACH, NO—GOTT VORPIT! I AM A WAGNERIAN!"
AN IMPERIAL STAGE-MANAGER.
