SONG OF THE c.o.c.kNEY SPORTSMAN

How happy could I be in heather, At the grouse gaily blazing away!

But then, somehow, I can't touch a feather, So 'tis better at Brighton to stay.

PRO BONO.--There is one first-rate joint that comes to table which is the c.o.c.kney's prime aversion--the h-bone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A MODEL MODEL.

(_The artist is rather shy, and has left his model to do the honours of his studio._) "From whom did Mr. M'Gilp paint that head?"

"From yours obediently, madam. I sit for the 'eads of all 'is 'oly men."

"He must find you a very useful person."

"Yes, madam. I order his frames, stretch his canvases, wash his brushes, set his palette, and mix his colours. All _he's_ got to do is just to _shove 'em on!_"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Tripper._ "'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Where's the change out o'

that bob I gave yer?"

_Bystander._ "Don't worry about it, c.o.c.ky; ain't you got the bloomin'

'oss as security!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Holiday Driver (returning from a pic-nic)._ "Excuse me, sir, but can you see anything wrong with the 'arness of this 'ere 'orse?"]

SPORTSMEN AT SEA.

_(Tom exhibiting a tern which he has shot)._ I say, 'Arry, wot bird 's this 'ere?

_'Arry._ A auk, I should say.

_Tom._ What yer calls a sparrerawk?

_'Arry._ No. Hay, u, k, auk, without the sparrer.

A c.o.c.kNEY'S EPITAPH

THINK! "From the cradle to the grave!" my brother, A nurse takes you from one, an 'ea.r.s.e to t'other.

A VULGAR ERROR.--Misplacing the haspirate.

A CHEVALIERESQUE CONUNDRUM.--_Coster Bill (to 'Arriet)._ I si! When is your young man like a fish out of water?

_'Arriet._ Oh, g'long! Give't up.

_Coster Bill._ Why, when 'es a _witin'_ round the corner.

[Short encounter, and exeunt severally.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CAPITAL ANSWER.

_"Self-made" Man (examining school, of which he is a manager)._ "Now, boy, what's the capital of 'Olland?"

_Boy._ "An 'H,' sir."]

DISCOVERED IN DRURY LANE

(_Near the new Baker Street Lodging House established by the County Council._)

I 'old it true wote'er befall, I feel it when things go most cross, Better do a fi'penny doss, Than never do a doss at all!

UNIVERSITY SYMPATHY.

_First Errand Boy (after the University Boat Race)._ Wot 'ave yer got a light blue ribbon in yer b.u.t.ton 'ole for, Tommy?

_Second E. B. (promptly)._ 'Cos our 'ouse allus sells Cambridge sausages!

A MATTER OF TASTE.

_Vulgar Parvenu (who is watching the interior decorations of his house)._ "Don't you think that tapestry 'eats the rooms?"

_Artistic Decorator._ "Very possibly, sir; you see, it's Goblin (_Gobelin_)."