NICHOLLS and Miss FANNY
BROUGH. All I can say is, if you want to see a good piece, well
mounted, and capitally acted all round, why go to Old Drury, and you
will agree with me (and the old wag with a taste for ancient jests)
that Sir AUGUST-US might add September, October, November, and
December to his signature, as _A Sailor's Knot_ seems likely to remain
tied to the Knightly Boards until it is time to produce the Christmas
Pantomime. So heave away, my hearties, and good luck to you!

* * * * *

SONGS FOR THE PRO. AND CON. THEOSOPHICAL CONTROVERSIALISTS.--"_All
round Mahatmas_," "_He's a jolly good Chela!_" "Row, _Brothers_, Row!"
and "_Why did my 'Masters' sell me?_"

* * * * *

[Illustration: CRICKETANA. YOUNG LADIES V. BOYS.

_Fair Batter_ (_aetat._ 18). "NOW, JUST LOOK HERE, ALGY JONES--NONE OF
YOUR PATRONAGE! YOU _DARE_ TO BOWL TO ME WITH YOUR LEFT HAND AGAIN,
AND I'LL BOX YOUR EARS!"]

* * * * *

"NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH."

_A SCENE VERY FREELY ADAPTED FROM "THE CRITIC."_

_Enter Mr. PUNCH, First Commissioner of Police, Inspector,
and Constables._

_Commissioner_. Oh! very valiant Constables: one is the Inspector
himself, the others are ordinary P.C.'s. And now I hope you shall hear
some better language. I was obliged to be plain and intelligible in
my manifesto, because there was so much matter-of-fact ground for
remonstrance, and even chiding; but still, 'i faith, I am proud of my
men, who, in point of fact, are fine fellows.

_Mr. P._ Unquestionably! But let us listen--unobserved, if so it may
be.

_Inspector_. How's this, my lads! What cools your usual zeal,
And makes your helmed valour down i' the mouth?
Why dimly glimmers that heroic flame
Whose reddening blaze, by civic spirit fed,
Should be the beacon of a happy Town?
Can the smart patter of a Bobby's tongue
Thus stagnate in a cold and prosy converse,
Or freeze in oathless inarticulateness?
No! Let not the full fountain of your valour
Be choked by mere official wiggings, or
Your prompt consensus of prodigious swearing
Be checked by the philanthropists' foaming wrath,
Or high officialdom's hostility!

_Mr. P._ There it is, Mr. Commissioner; they admit your by no means
soft impeachment.

_Commissioner_. Nay, listen yet awhile!

_1st P.C._ No more!--the freshening breeze of your rebuke
Hath filled the napping c