so I simpathised with
him. He said other peeple cort plenty of fish, but they came and looked
at his bait, and then turned round and swum away; so I gave him a bit of
adwice as I had wunce herd of. Don't buy your flys, I ses, but make 'em
yourself. Anythink will do if it has 4 legs, and 2 wings made of gorze.
And when the fishes sees it they will say to one another, "Hullo, BILL,
here's a rum-looking fly--I never tasted one like him--so here goes,"
and he gobbles up your fly, and so you has him slick. How my young frend
did larf. Ah, says he, that's the frute of indulging your curiossity.
I'll set to work this evening and make one, as I've no dout he did.

I took a walk this morning in butiful Quarry Woods, but O what a site
met my gaze! It used to be one of the atrakshuns of the place for
anyboddy as could walk. What is it now? All the roads as bin dug up, and
left so, and at the entrance to the lovely paths there are orrid bords
put up, saying, "No path--trespassers persecuted." But it isn't true.
They are Paths, and they leads everywhere, and I wasn't persecuted. All
the finest trees are smeared over with dirty bills, saying, "No person
allowed to camp, land, or picknick," and sumbody had added, "Or cough,
or sneeze, without permission!" As a poor feller said to me, who was
hobbling along on the horful road, and who knew the late propryeter,
"Ah, a kind, Cristian Landlord ought to live as long as he posserbly
can, for he never can tell what's to foller."

There's a place there where the Wolunteers practises firing, and I'm
afraid they must be werry careless, for they writes up, "No one must
damage the property of the Corpse," which is werry kind of 'em, so far.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION.

"WHAT DOES T'LASS WANT WI' YON _BOOSTLE_ FOR? IT AREN'T BIG ENOUGH TO
_SMOGGLE_ THINGS, AND SHE CAN'T _STEER_ HERSELF WI' IT!"]

* * * * *

THE WAIL OF THE MALE;

_Being a British Workman's View of the Cheap Female Labour Question,
respectfully submitted to the Trades Union Congress._

_Bill Smith to his Shopmate, Ben Jones, loquitur_:--

EH? Give 'em the Suffrage--the Women? Why not?
What else, that's worth having, lads, _haven't_ they got?
If it's levelling up, let 'em have it all round,
And _we_ shan't be the first to complain, I'll be bound.
They've cut down our wages, and copied our coats,
And I really do