For Hodge's red hanky of bread and cold bacon;
But if in the sequel all chances are equal
You'll have to see me quell a volume of curses
When our "jobs" they allot, and I still have to swot,
If I like it or not, writing topical verses.
A HARDY ANNUAL
.
The butler, John Binns, who is an old and faithful retainer to this household, is now suffering from his annual cough. It is a terrific cough, capable of disputing supremacy with all other coughs of which the world has heard. The special points about this cough are (1) its loudness; (2) its combination of the noises made by all other coughs; (3) its depth; (4) its shriek of despair as it trembles and reverberates through the house; (5) its capacity to repel and annihilate sympathy. It is true that I have interviewed Binns with regard to his cough—it is an annual interview and is expected of me. I have urged him as he values our friendship not to neglect his cough, and he has assured me in return that the doctor has prepared for him a draught which possesses the supreme quality of being absolutely unable to effect the purpose for which it was devised.
"I shall drink 'is stuff," says Binns, "but I 'aven't any 'opes of its doing me any good. It doesn't seem to get me be'ind the eough. If once I could really get be'ind it I should soon finish it. But yon can't expect to do anything with a cough unless you're be'ind it."