_
_Father_ (_pocketing coin_). Thank you; and now we may say, adieu!
_Son_. But how about dinner--am I not to dine with you?
_Father_. Dine with me! What an idea! Why should you?
_Son_. Because I am your Son.
_Father_. You mean someone infinitely more important--my Lodger.
_Son_. And you absolutely refuse me food?
_Father_. Not I, my boy; not I! It is the law! If I was to give you
what you ask, you and I would be had up for bribery.
_Son_. Then you prefer patriotism to paternal affection?
_Father_. Well, to be candid with you, I do! It is distinctly cheaper!
* * * * *
MUSCOVITE VERSION OF A MUSIC-HALL CHORUS.
HIRSCH! HIRSCH! HIRSCH!
Here comes the Bogie Man!
He wants to help the Hebrews; he'll catch them if he can.
HIRSCH! HIRSCH! HIRSCH!
He's hit upon a plan,
And all the persecutors cry, "Here comes the Bogie Man!"
* * * * *
LINES ON A PHOTOGRAPH.
DOWNEY has photographed "the FIFES" at home.
Aha! Domestic music! FIFE and "drum "!
* * * * *
[Illustration: MR. PUNCH ON TOUR. A LITTLE HOLIDAY IN WALES.]
* * * * *
OUR REAL DESIDERATUM.
(_BY A "WELL-INFORMED" FOOL._)
Ah! I was fogged by the Materialistic,
By HUXLEY and by ZOLA, KOCH and MOORE;
And now there comes a Maelstrom of the Mystic,
To whirl me further yet from sense's shore.
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