"An' when I told 'im in the orfice that me money wasn't right, he says, ''Ere 's a ready reckoner—work it out yerself;' an' believe me or believe me not, but when I looked at the blessed book I found it was last year's."
"At this stage the Chairman withdrew complaining of a head-ache without nominating a successor, darkness set in and there were no lights. Along with the Chairman some forty people also left in a body. What happened afterwards is not clear."
Indian Paper.
We don't wonder the reporter was baffled.
Dear Mr. Punch.
—Re the authorship of Shakspeare's plays, may I quote from Twelfth Night, Act I., Scene V.? Thank you.
"'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on."
This is unquestionably bacon.