think there were any in
his time."

[Illustration: "BABY BUNG."

NURSE RITCHIE. "THERE YOU ARE, MY LITTLE DEAR,--_THEY_'LL TAKE CARE OF
YOU!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: AUTOMATIC ARBITRATION.

NO MORE EXORBITANT FEES! NO MORE LAW! NO MORE TRIALS!]

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE.

OUTSIDE.

_A crowd is staring stolidly at the gorgeously gilded and painted
entrance, with an affectation of superior wisdom to that of the
weaker-minded, who sneak apologetically up the steps from time to time.
A tall-hatted orchestra have just finished a tune, and hung their brazen
instruments up like joints on the hooks above them._

_A Woman carrying an infant (to her husband)._ Will 'ee goo in, JOE?

_Joe (who is secretly burning to see the Show)._ Naw. Sin it arl afoor
arfen enough. Th' outside's th' best on it, I reckon.

_His Wife (disappointed)._ Saw 'tis, and naw charge for lookin' at 'en
neither.

_The Proprietor._ Ladies and Gentlemen, Re-membar! This is positively
the last opportunity of witnessing DENMAN'S Celebrated Menagerie--the
largest in the known world! The Lecturer is now describing the animals,
after which Mlle. CRAVACHE and ZAMBANGO, the famous African Lion-tamers,
will go through their daring feats with forest-bred lions, tigers,
bears, and hyenas, for the last time in this town. Re-membar--the last
performance this evening!

_Joe (to his Wife)._ If ye'd like to hev a look at 'em, I wun't say nay
to et.

_His Wife._ I dunno as I care partickler 'bout which way 'tis.

_Joe (annoyed)._ Bide where 'ee be then.

_His Wife._ Theer's th' child, JOE, to be sure.

_Joe._ Well we baint a gooin' in, and so th' child want come to no 'arm,
and theer's a hend on it!

_His Wife._ Nay, she'd lay in my arms as quiet as quiet. I wur on'y
thinkin, JOE, as it 'ud be somethin' to tell her when she wur a big
gell, as her daddy took her to see th' wild beasties afoor iver she
could tark--that's arl I wur meanin', JOE. And they'll let 'er goo in
free, too.

_Joe._ Aye, that'll be fine tellin's fur 'er, sure 'nough. Come arn,
Missus, we'll tek th' babby in--happen she'll niver git th' chance
again. [_They mount the steps eagerly._

INSIDE.

_Joe's Wife (with a vague sense of being defrauded)._ I thart theer'd
ha' bin moor smell, wi' so many on 'em!

_Joe._ They doan't git naw toime for it, I reckon, allus on the rord as
they b