Both them and you. But, in this bitter weather,
Your "Solidarity" brings us bitter fruit.
When our pinched fire dies down to its last ember,
The picture of you "making holiday" thus
Won't warm our wives and kids. Strike!—but remember
That what is "Play" to you means death to us!
A POSER FOR MR. WEATHERBY.—Mrs. RAM is not in the least astonished at its being said that certain horses turn out "regular flyers," because, she says, "she has often heard of mares' nests."
"MINER PREMISES."—In the Coal Districts.