Betsy Trotwood (Mrs. London City) to Mr. Dick (Mr. H-w-s). "Now here you see Sir Christopher Wren's Child, and the question I put to you is, What shall I do with him? Come, I want some very sound Advice."
The contemplation of Old St. Paul's seemed to inspire him with a sudden idea, and he replied briskly, "I should wash him!"
"Mr. H-w-s," said Mrs. London City, "sets us all right. We'll fill the Fire-engine with soap-and-water!"—"David Copperfield," adapted.
A HOPELESS QUEST.
My mind a perfect blank I've made, Upon a disc I've fixed my eyes. I hoped, by mesmerism's aid, To probe stupendous mysteries. Hour after hour in solitude I thus have spent, but, to be frank, There was no magic trance ensued, My mind remained a perfect blank. To séances if I repair, "A hostile influence" they detect. The spirits, of my presence ware, Their customary rites neglect. A few faint raps, and they have flown, With all their perfumes, notes, and flowers. The mediums on my entrance frown— I am not blest with occult powers!
Perfect.—The Daily Telegraph, in a short notice of a present made to a Mr. Osler for assisting the police, mentions the unavoidable absence on this interesting occasion of "Chief Inspector Belton,"—which is a good name suggestive of staff attached to "belt on,"—and of "Mr. Superintendent Ferrett"—than which no better name was ever found, out of a burlesque novel, for a clever detective.