s--whilst we was a-dining--
The Mace and the Sceptre in friendship combining,
Bound together with garlands of laurel and myrtle;
What a comfort to view as we sucked up the turtle!

Because we should hail in that union a token
Of a tie to be never undone, cut, or broken;
And a pledge that, as long as the Crown stands unshaken,
From Reform London City shall save its fat bacon.

[Illustration]

* * * * *

MAN LOVES--WITH A SAVING CLAUSE.

An Old Maid, who confesses to thirty-five, says: "She doesn't
believe--not a bit of it--in the nonsense that men talk about breaking
their hearts! It's her firm belief there never was a man yet who broke
his heart--or if there was, that he broke it as a lobster breaks one of
his claws, another one shooting up very quickly in its place."

* * * * *

THE DEMON OF THE MONEY-MARKET.

Any success gained by the Russians over the Turks causes a fall of the
funds of course; because the CZAR'S invasion of the Principalities is in
fact a mere Bear Speculation.

* * * * *

A NEAT CHRISTMAS BOX.

There is a little book called "What Shall I Do with my Money?" Had not
the author better send a copy of it to the Registrar of the Prerogative
Court of Canterbury?

* * * * *

THE GOOD OLD DRINKING DAYS.--When every Jack had his Gill.

* * * * *

A VOICE FROM THE OMNIBUS-BOX.

"MR. PUNCH SIR,

"Wich it is well known you ain't no friend to 'bus drivers in giniral
but as the friend of umanity our conductor says as ow you may be rote to
on a subjec wich hevery man as works a 'bus on the Kinsinton line ave
somethink to say to. Now the frost as set in its ard lines for our
'osses and nosayin wen youre to get thro a jurney along of that ere
blessed Ide Par Corner ill and the Gore wich it is the artbreakinest bit
o' road anyweres out o' London and osses lyin about this week in all
direckshuns, like the stage at Hashleys arter the battle o Waterloo, and
hinsides as sticks to their places and wont get hout no not to walk a
hinch and the poor 'osses a tearin their arts out wich it goes to a
man's art to use the wip to an oss as is doin its best, and conductors
hup and down like arlekins hevery minit, and city-gents hawful cross and
no wonder tied to time all as one as a 'bus. And all the while there's
that ere byootiful bit o' r