Mr. Punch—pray permit him—henceforth is your brother.
We are proud of you both, and we'll all of us cheer
These Peelers from Greenwich who never knew fear.
MORE BONES TO PICK WITH THE SCHOOL BOARD.
We see there has been some churlish cavilling in some quarters because the School Management Committee of the London School Board passed a requisition in November last, sanctioning the purchase of an articulated skeleton for the Belleville Road School, at the very reasonable sum of £8 16s. Why make any bones about the matter? What more ornamental and indeed indispensable article of school-furniture than a human skeleton nearly six foot high? Still, should the past system of expenditure be continued in the future, Mr. Punch would suggest that excellent and infinitely cheaper substitutes for skeletons will be found in the persons of the rate-payers themselves.
CUPID'S TENNIS-COURTS.—Under the heading "Tennis in the Riviera," the Daily Telegraph recently gave us some important news, which should largely influence the Matrimonial Market. The names of Ladies and Gentlemen, both "singles" (a not strictly grammatical plural, by the way, but what's grammar in a game of Thirty to Love?) were given. There was, however, no mention of "ties" or of matches to come.
A CORRESPONDENT SIGNING HIMSELF "MINCING LANE" WRITES,—"Sir,—The Saturday Review complained of Mr. TREE's gait as Hamlet, 'which,' said the Critic, 'reminds one too much of AGAG.' Most cutting comparison for an actor sticking rigidly to the Shakspearian text! If there were interpolations in the text of Mr. BEERBOHM TREE's own introduction, then indeed he might remind them of A-gag; that is, if he were continually a-gagging.—M.L."