_Thursday._--Got up at twelve o'clock. Strolled to the club. Shut up for repairs. Went to bed at nine.

_Friday._--Got up at one o'clock. Stayed at home. Dull. Went to bed at eight.

_Sat.u.r.day._--Got up at five a.m. Went out of town at six.

THE REVERSE OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.--A school in which very few members of society are brought up--a charity school.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAST RECLAIMING

_Brixton Barber._ "Revival seems to be in the hair, sir."

_Customer._ "Not in _mine_!"]

FOG

Thou comest in familiar guise, When in the morning I awake, You irritate my throat and eyes, I vow that life's a sad mistake.

You come to hang about my hair, My much-enduring lungs to clog, I feel you with me everywhere, Our own peculiar London fog.

You clothe the City in such gloom, We scarce can see across the street, You seem to penetrate each room, And mix with everything I eat.

I hardly dare to stir about, But sit supine as any log; You make it torture to go out, Our own peculiar London fog.

THE END OF TABLE-TURNING.--An inmate of a lunatic asylum, driven mad by spiritualism, wishes to try to turn the multiplication table.

"THE QUESTION OF THE HOUR."--What o'clock is it?

PERPETUAL MOTION DISCOVERED.--The _winding_ up of public companies.

FLIES IN AMBER.--Yellow cabs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _'Bus Driver_ (_to Cabby, who is trying to lash his horse into something like a trot_). "Wot's the matter with 'im, Willum? 'E don't seem 'isself this mornin'. I believe you've bin an' changed 'is milk!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SKETCH FROM LIFE

_Chorus_ (_slow music_). "We're a rare old--fair old--rickety, rackety crew!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCENE--_In a 'Bus._

TIME--_During the Hot Spell._

_First City Man._ "D----d hot, isn't---- I--I beg your pardon, madam, I--I quite forgot there was a lady pres----"

_Stout Party._ "Don't apologise. It's much worse than that!"]

THE CAPITALISTS

(_A Story of Yesterday for To-morrow and To-day_)

"What, Brown, my boy, is that you?" said Smith, heartily.

"The same, and delighted to see you," was the reply.

"Have you heard the news, my dear fellow?" asked Smith.

"You mean about the position of the Bank of England? Why, certainly; all the City is talking about it."

"Ah, it is absolutely grand! Never was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street in such a strong position. Marvellous! my dear friend; absolutely marvellous!"

"Quite so. Never were we--as a people--so rich!"

"Yes, prosperity seems to be coming back by leaps and bounds."

"You never said anything so true," observed Smith.

"Right you are," cried Brown.

And then the two friends shook hands once more with increased cordiality, and pa.s.sed on. They walked in different directions a few steps, and both stopped. They turned round.

"Smith," said Brown, "I have to ask you a trifling favour."

"Brown, it is granted before I know its purport."

"Well, the truth is, I am penniless--lend me half-a-crown."

Smith paused for a moment.

"You surely do not wish to refuse me?" asked Brown in a tone of pained surprise.

"I do not, Smith," replied his friend, with fervour. "Indeed, I do not!"