[Ill.u.s.tration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS

A visit to an artist's studio.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _He._ "Awfully jolly concert, wasn't it? Awfully jolly thing by that fellow--what's his name?--something like Doork.n.o.b."

_She._ "_Doork.n.o.b!_ Whom _do_ you mean? I only know of Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, Handel----"

_He._ "That's it! Handel. I knew it was something you caught hold of!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR ARTIST

"If you please, sir, here's the printer's boy called again!"

"Oh, bother! Say I'm busy."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS "'Tis hard to give the hand where the heart can _never_ be!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SONGS AND THEIR SINGERS. "Only this"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Horse Dealer._ "Did that little mare I sold you do for you, sir?"

_Nervous Horseman._ "Nearly!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "OPTICS."--_Lecturer._ "Now let anyone gaze steadfastly on any object--say, for instance, his wife's eye--and he'll see himself looking so exceedingly small, that----"

_Strong-minded Lady_ (_in front row_). "Hear! Hear! Hear!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AFTER THE FAIR." (_Country cousin comes up in August to see the exhibition of pictures at the Royal Academy!_).--_Porter._ "Bless yer 'art, we're closed!"

_Country Cousin._ "Closed! What! didn't it pay?!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Jones._ "How is it we see you so seldom at the club now?"

_Old Member._ "Ah, well, you see, I'm not so young as I was; and I've had a good deal of worry lately; and so, what with one thing and another, I've grown rather fond of my own society."

_Jones._ "Epicure!"]

THE TRUE INWARDNESS OF ART.--Photographs by the Rontgen rays.

MAN WHO HAS A TURN FOR MUSIC.--An organ-grinder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PHONOGRAPH CANNOT LIE.--_German Dealer_ "Now, mein Herr! You've chust heerd your lofely blaying rebroduced to berfection!

Won't you buy one?"

_Amateur Flautist._ "Are you sure the thing's all right?"

_German Dealer._ "Zertainly, mein Herr."

_Amateur Flautist._ "Gad, then, if that's what my playing is like, I'm done with the flute for ever."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRIVATE INQUIRY.--_Surveyor of Taxes_ (_to literary gent_). "But surely you can arrive at some estimate of the amount received by you during the past three years for example. Don't you keep books?"

_Literary Gent._ (_readily_). "Oh dear no. I write them!"

_Surveyor._ "Ahem--I mean you've got some sort of accounts----"

_Literary Gent._ "Oh yes, lots"--(_Surveyor brightens up_)--"unpaid!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "There's a boy wants to see you, sir." "Has he got a bill in his hand?" "No, sir." "Then he's got it in his pocket! Send him away!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_He._ "By Jove, it's the best thing I've ever painted!--and I'll tell you what; I've a good mind to give it to Mary Morison for her wedding present!"

_His Wifey._ "Oh, but, my love, the Morisons have always been _so_ hospitable to us! You ought to give her a _real_ present, you know--a fan, or a scent-bottle, or something of that sort!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRIUMPH