way,
what's that row behind there?

_First Ditto_. (_looking_). By Jove! it's that Gladstone gang! They've
tracked us! (_Sings_)--
They're after us! They're after us!
_We_'re the individuals they require.

_Second Ditto_. (_sardonically_). What a lyric _repertoire_ you have,
ARTHUR! Old English glee, Puritan psalmody. Music-hall song, all come
equally well to you, it seems. But those roughs mean mischief, Nephew
mine!

[Illustration: SPRING TIME IN LEAP YEAR.

SALISBURY. "DON'T YOU THINK, NEPHEW ARTHUR, WE'D BETTER
_PLUNGE_--BEFORE WE'RE _PUSHED_?"]

_First Ditto_. Doubtless! They always do. And they've done some
lately, drat them! I say, wouldn't they like _to shove us in_, as they
did the old witches, _to see if we can swim_?

_Second Ditto_. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder if they tried. Don't you
think, ARTHUR, (_valiantly_) it would be better, more manly, and more
politic, perchance, _to plunge in than to be pushed_?

_First Ditto_ (_drily_). Ah! just as the brave sheep--
"Committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter."

_Second Ditto_. Oh, hang your quotations! Happy omen! 'Tis Leap Year,
is it not? Just a leap; though, like DERBY's, it be "in the dark,"
and--well, _we shall know where we are, anyhow!_

_First Ditto_. Ah, just so; and that's something!

[_Left considering._

* * * * *

[Illustration: TEMPTATION.

_Hairdresser_. "ANY _BAY-RUM_, SIR?"

_Middy_. "THANK YOU--A--NO! NOT QUITE so EARLY IN THE MORNING--YOU
KNOW!"]

* * * * *

"CLERK ME NO CLERKS."

It seems Sir E.C., Q.C., likes
The blatant, brazen, Boothian band,
Admires "abstaining" zeal that strikes
The biggest drum with boldest hand.
He says, "You must not judge some others' case
By tastes much more refined," less commonplace.

Yet, as Sir EDWARD disagrees
With those whose tastes he thus divined,
It's manifestly clear he sees
_His_ taste in music's not "refined."
'Twas written long ago by CHAUCER's pen,
"The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men."

* * * * *

"MY DEAR EYES! WHAT! SEE-USAN!"

At the Prince of Wales's, Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS, as _Captain Crosstree_,
is more ARTHUR ROBERTS than ever, and, consequently, immensely droll.
While he is on the stage, the audience is convulsed with spasmodic
laughter, excepting when he tries to