Me-Not to let her flirt with him more than I can help. Mem.-Old JAWKINS declares that he can prove that the Great Wall of China is not Oriental, but was really baked at Lowestoft. Mm.-Bet him that his proofs will show he is half-baked. Mem.-Not to let that dealer in old Worcester give me any more of his Old Worcester Sauce. FIRESIDE GAMES. THE great want at Christmas is Fireside Games. One very good one is to bring into the Drawing-room a quantity of snow, and, sitting down before the fire, set to work to make fire-proof snowballs. Some little knowledge of Chemistry is required for this; but perhaps the less the better. The Trick Hat is funny too. Take a Visitor's hat, the better the hat the better the trick. Place it on a chair. Cover it with a cloth. If there are plenty of people playing Little Boldrig (he had been dining with his Company, an had let himself in with his latchkey-to Gigantic Mem.-To find out somebody who will publish my Confessi ns of a Crackle China Teacup. Mem-Mind I don't forget to finish the first chapter ere I begin the next. Mem.-The best cement for mending broken China is composed of rasted snowballs, mixed with roes of Robin Redbreasts and pettitoes of Eels. Mem-Mind I go next week to CRUSTY'S, and buy a lot of Teapots at twenty pounds a-piece. Mem.-When I've bought them, bring them home and put them out of sight. A THOUGHT IN OXFORD STREET.-The Poet is not alone in | I.S.C.K., G.M.C.K., will A DISTINCTION WITH AN IMMENSE DIFFERENCE.- The Local Board is only to be found in some towns; the locally bored in all. MATERIA MUSICA.-A Lady being asked what was the best wood for Pianos, replied, without hesitation-Broadwood. with you, you can ask one of them to be King, and then let him sit on the hat; or if you are all alone, you will sit on it yourself, and say, "Now I am King." You can repeat this as often as you like to. The finish of the game is real fun, for in this, of course, you will be joined by the Visitor himself. This part of the "Trick Hat Game is most amusing. The Visitor searches for his, hat everywhere, never suspecting for a minute that it is under the cloth on the chair. When he gets warm, you will try to divert his attention; but when he gets absolutely hot (as he is pretty sure to do) then it is best to run away as quickly as possible, and hide somewhere. The Moral of this amusing and instructive game is, "Hide or you 'll be Hided." Another capital Game is the Egg in the Tail-coat Pocket. This is a companion to the Summer Game of the Ripe Strawberry and the White Ducks. This last is most simple. Induce someone to wear white ducks, i.e., white trowsers. Put a Strawberry on a chair without his having seen it. While engaged in conversation with a third party push the chair towards him, and politely request him to sit down. He will wonder what has happened; you won't. The Stickler.-Take a good thick stick, or a sharp switch, and hit somebody till he laughs. When he laughs, he loses the Game, and you go in. This also is simple. A cane will serve all the purpose. CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. OUR Butcher will decorate his prize beef and mutton with gorgeous favours and rosettes. Our distinguished military ac. quaintance, LIEUT. GENERAL SIR SAMPSON WINGERFIELD, B.C.G., decorate his martial breast with his various stars and ribbons. Our fantastic friend, MRS. DOSSINGTON DOLLINGCOURT, December 17, 1874.1 Military Adonis (to Clerical Apollo). "HAW! STWIKES ME WATHER FORCIBLY THAT YOU AND I HAD BETTER HIDE OUR DIMINISHED HEADS, AND WETIRE VANQUISHED FWOM THE SCENE!" November xxx Days. December xxxi Days. JM All Saints 16 Tu Erskine d. 8 M Day 9h.17m 23 Tu S. Clement SAGITTARIUS. CHRISTMAS CAROL. As the Bell chinks, 0xf.M.T.e. CAPRICORNUS. And will for ever and aye. MYSTERIES OF INTO the future dost thou Clairvoyant Medium, vainly Say, then, who'll be this year's And who's to be the com- PROVERBIAL NEVER do to-morrow what you can put off doing to-day. Excepting on a railroad, delays are rarely dangerous. Unpunctuality is the soul of method. Where there's a Will there's a Way of upsetting it. For want of a Cab the Train was lost, and for want of a Trainer the Race was lost. 'Tis the early Worm that gets walked into by the Blackbird. Invention is the Daughter of Necessity, and the Parent of the Soap-bubble. If you want a thing well done, pay somebody to do it. Silence is of gold, while specch is often brazen. Needs must, when the Printer's Devil calls. A FELLOW FEELING.-Thero is one Parliamentary measure, passed regularly every Session, which persons who aro inclined to make free with their neighbours' property regard with considerable favour-the Appropriation Bill. THE QUADRATURE OF THE CIRCLE.-Describe a Circle; and let it be a Ring of Swindlers. Square your Ring. SANS-CULOTTES CHERCHECULOTTES.-Strong-minded Women of the "advanced" brigade. Bishop (on choice Cob, has called to remonstrate with Sporting Parson, who keeps Racehorses). "I AM DEEPLY CONCERNED TO HEAR, MR. THAT YOU KEEP, AND EVEN TRAIN, A CHRISTMAS NUMBER À LA MODE. JOHN SMITH was ill, very ill. He had sent for the Doctor in hot haste. His family (a numerous one) surrounded his easy chair. The poor old man (poor in health, only let it be understood, for he was as rich as Croesus in pocket) gazed at the assembled throng with eyes dimmed, not by tears of affection. His numerous relatives bent over him to hear what he had to say. "My friends," he gasped out, "I want you to do me a favour. I cannot last much longer, and before I die I should much like to hear all your stories." There was an awkward pause, and then one of his relatives advanced. He was a little old man dressed in a suit of seedy black. He cleared his throat, coughed apologetically, and commenced as follows: The Pew-opener's Story. "The Church of St. Bunkum is in the ward of Cold Without, in the City of London, &c., &c. One foggy November morning, when the streets were, &c., &c., I was dusting the reading-desk when, &c., &c. The Bride was a timid young thing, and as she stood before the Curate, &c., &c. The Bridegroom was nervous, &c., &c. The young couple drove off in a cab, &c., &c. He tried hard to get work from the editors of the magazines, &c., &c. She pined away, &c., &c. And on New Year's Eve I heard that they both were dead!" When the little old man had finished his story, JOHN SMITH opened his eyes and exclaimed, "Let me hear the next." Accepting this invitation, a bright-looking young man with curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes stepped briskly forward, and began The Civil Engineer's Story. "CHARLEY, old man, you will never do it!' exclaimed my partner. My partner was, &c., &c. In spite of this, I determined to begin the work the next morning, &c., &c. The men murmured, &c., &c. I seized the revolver from MORTON's hand, &c., &c. And so he was tried, found guilty of manslaughter, and sentenced to penal servitude for life." The bright-looking young man hastily wiped away a tear, and bowing to the company, left the apartment. Old JOHN SMITH roused himself from a gentle slumber, and cried "Now for the next!" A pale-faced man, very blue about the cheeks and chin, advanced, and related The Story of the Christmas Clown. "OLD HIGGINGS used to work the Norfolk Circuit when me and SALLY were engaged at thirty shillings a week as 'useful people.' My wife (she was called Miss FLORENCE PLANTAGENET in the playbills) was, &c., &c. Well, one night when we had a good house (it was SIGNOR TOMKINS's benefit) we, &c., &c. The rouge was still on her face, &c., &c. It is fever,' said the doctor, in a low tone and I, &c., &c. I gave the audience my usual joke (we call it a wheeze' in the Profession) before I came off, so that the SIGNOK might have time to prepare for jumping through the paper balloons, when, &c., &c. The audience roared with laughter, &c., &c. 'She's dead,' said the doctor, as I came off, and poor lass, so she was!" The Christmas Clown buried his face in his hands, and poor old JOHN SMITH (with tears in his eyes) observed, "A sad, sad story. And now for the next." A gentleman, with a face overflowing with drollery, advanced, and, without any preface, commenced The Story of the Man Without a Memory. "I NEVER could remember anything, &c., &c. When I was a boy, &c., &c. When I was a youth, &c., &c. Well, I was engaged to day of your marriage, Sir,' said he, and &c., &c. I looked at my be married, &c., &c. I was called in the morning, &c., &c. The watch, &c., &c. I hurried to the church, &c., &c. The clergyman was very angry; he said, &c., &c. The ring was not on the piano, &c., &c. And to this day I am a bachelor, whilst MARY, (the woman I adored) is married to the hated pork-butcher, and is the mother of five children!" merriment had subsided, some one called attention to poor old JOHN There was a roar of laughter as the speaker finished. After the glazed, his expression one of the deepest dejection. He was dead! SMITH. His jaw had dropped, his features were rigid, his eye out the assistance of a doctor! -the concluding story (it was a comic one) had finished him with SIR, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER. IT must have been! I've got at it. I've only just hit upon it. The story of BRUMMY and the Dog-fight. I've found out the solution of it all. It was evidently intended, at the commencement of the autumn theatrical season, now over, to draw public attention to Richard Cœur de Lion at Drury Lane. Didn't you see the pictures on the walls? "The hound attacking the Knight." Of course. Depend on it, something went wrong, and the scheme was mismanaged somehow, or under that picture we should have seen long ago daily advertised, "The Man and Dog Fight in Richard Cœur de Lion at Drury Lane every evening." Yours, SLEEPYHEAD WOKEUP. A WINTRY SECT.-The Shakers. So nursed in Pantomimes poor babes are seen Chucked to and fro, their nurses' hands between, Under hot poker, scrubbing-brush, or spoon. While GLADSTONE, as Policeman, dark and dry, Prus, who wants the babe, taps on the shoulder; None of your Roman Doctors shall come nigh, And keep from growing wiser as he's older. As Harlequin to this Clown and Pantaloon, France shows in closely-fitting mask and motley: Spangled and partycoloured, cap to shoon, In transformations changeful as the moon, Wound up by a strait-waistcoat, late or soonNatural end of flip-flaps flung too hotly. AH, safe wert thou from sorrow's canker-worm, Young Seventy-Five, had Fate assigned thy lot, At thy first step into life's wintry To feel the wise support and pressure Of Punch's arms about thy baby New-wakened on a world that knows thee not. But rougher nurses thy young life environ, If through the clouds thy horoscope I catch BISMARCK, who makes his pap of blood and iron, And PAPA PIUS, who all schools throws mire on, Except that old one, that piled Smithfield's fire on, Ere to its faggots BONNER laid the match. Tattered and battered, brainless as she's bold, And yet rough Force, infallible Imbecility, 'Neath the Dark Wisdom, and the Unseen Will. Cockney Furrin and 'Ome Review. Horgustus. Rather 'ard of hold BISMARCK to be down on HARNIM, hain't it? 'Enery. Yes, I'm sorry for old 'ARRY HARNIM. I wonder if BISMARCK 'll hindorse 'is committal with "No Christmas Fare." CARDEN 'd ha' dun it if he'd a cot the poor beggar. |