Mrs. Fidget (who has been fingering all the Joints for some time). "Can you guarantee this to be Welsh Mutton?"
Butcher's Assistant. "Certainly we can, Mum; but if you go 'Andling it much longer, it'll be Irish Stoo directly!"
THE PLEA OF THE POSTMAN.
All work and no play
Makes a dull boy; so they say,
Proverb-mongers, pretty bards.
"All play," may be, worse I'll bet 'em!
If they doubt my word, then let 'em
Try my hand at (Christmas) Cards!
Punch in reply.
True for you! You growl with reason.
Hearts are trumps, and at this season,
Pray remember, Goldylocks,
When your cards arrive in flocks,
Postman earns his Christmas Box!
"Rede me Aright!"—Sir Edward Reed, M.P., is anything but a "bruised reed." On the contrary. More correct would it be to describe him as A Bruiser Reed, for his plucky encounter with his adversaries, over whom he triumphed by "A Vast Majority."