oth feet. Quite unable to get up before five o'clock, when he
was fortunately, sufficiently recovered to accompany his younger brothers
to a juvenile party and Christmas tree. According to SAMMY (my second son)
AUGUSTUS danced every dance, and served as an assistant to an amateur
conjuror. But this last statement I give with some reserve, as it does not
correspond with the report furnished by AUGUSTUS himself.

_Friday._--AUGUSTUS at his worst. In the morning he alarmed his mother by a
passionate burst of weeping. He seems to think that, if he goes back to
school to-morrow, he will die immediately. Feeling that this was an
unhealthy state of mind, I took him to the Zoological Gardens in the
afternoon, and must confess that, while there, he appeared to experience a
keen delight in feeding the bears with fragments of newspaper, concealed in
stale buns. But at night his melancholia returned, and he was scarcely able
to eat his dinner.

_Saturday._--Received a letter from my eminent and reverend friend, Dr.
SWISHTALE, informing me that, in consequence of the prevalence of
influenza, it had been thought advisable to extend the Christmas vacation
for a fortnight or three weeks. On conveying this intelligence to my eldest
son, he seemed to rapidly recover, and has (I am happy to say) been well
ever since.

Trusting that the history of this singular case may afford some hints and
comfort to parents with children afflicted (as was my dear AUGUSTUS) with a
disease so eccentric in its ramifications as influenza,

I remain, dear _Mr. Punch_,

Yours most truly, SIMON SIMPLE WIDEAWAKE.

_Malinger Villa, Blarney Road, S. W._

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

THE CADI OF THE CURBSTONE.

SCENE--_A thoroughfare near Hyde Park. Shortly before
Scene opens, an Elderly Gentleman has suddenly stopped
the cab in which he has been driving, and, without
offering to pay the fare, has got out and shuffled off
with a handbag. The Cabman has descended from his seat
and overtaken the old gentleman, who is now perceived
to be lamentably intoxicated. The usual crowd springs
up from nowhere, and follows the dispute with keen and
delighted interest._

_Cabman._ Look 'ere, you ain't goin' not without payin' _me_, you
know--where's my two shillings?

_The Elderly Gentleman_ (_smiling sweetly, and balancing himself on his
heels against some railings_). I'm shure _I_ dunno.