[Illustration: _Little Guttersnipe_ (_who is getting quite used to posing_). “Will yer want me ter tike my Bun down?”] [Illustration: “EVERYTHING COMES TO HIM THAT ‘WAITS.’”] [Illustration: THE HEALING ART. _Doctor_. “Did you give the Children the Physic I sent last night?” _Fond Mother_. “Yes, Sir,” _Doctor_. “And how are they to-day?” _Fond Mother_. “Well, the little un’s very bad to be sure. But it don’t seem to ’ave done the t’other un’ no ’Arm as yet!”] [Illustration: _Bill Sykes_ (_reading_). “There are now ten men of the Bechuanaland Border Police in the whole Bechuanaland Protectorate, four of whom are doing Customs Duty.”] [Illustration: _Street Serio_ (_singing_). “Er--yew will think hov me and Love me has in dies hov long ago-o-o!”] [Illustration: _Old Jones_. “Yes, my Boy, _there’s_ Wine for you, eh? I bought Ten Pounds of it the other day.” _Brown_. “What a _lot_ you must have got!”] [Illustration: First Newspaper Boy. “Hullo, Bill! Who’s ’e?” Second Newspaper Boy. “I suppose ’e’s the North Pole as ’as just been Discovered!”] [Illustration: “What Bait are yer usin’, Billie?” “Cheese.” “What are yer tryin’ ter catch--Mice?”] [Illustration: A BI-METALLISTIC DISCUSSION. _Jim_. “What’s this ere ‘Bi-metallism,’ Bill?” _Bill_ (_of superior intelligence_). “Well, yer see, Jim, it’s heither a Licensed Wittlers’ or a Teetotal Dodge. The Wages’ll be paid in Silver, and no more Coppers. So you can’t get no arf-pint nor hanythink under a Sixpence or a Thrip’ny. Then you heither leaves it alone, and takes to Water like a Duck, or you runs up a score.” _Jim_. “Ah! But if there ain’t no more Coppers, ’ow about the ’Buses and the Hunderground Rileway?” _Bill_ (_profoundly_). “Ah!” [Left sitting.]] [Illustration: _First Genius to Second Genius_. “Why on Earth do you do your Hair in that absurd Fashion, Smith?”] [Illustration: “Oi tell yez Oi will _not_ clane out me Cell. Oi’d lave the Jail furrst!”] [Illustration: _Small Voice from under the Bed_. “_No_, I will _not_ come out! I tell you, once and for all.” Bernesia. “I _will_ be Master in my own House!”] [Illustration: _Photographer_. “I think this is an excellent Portrait of your Wife.” _Mr. Smallweed_. “I don’t know--sort of _repose_ about the mouth that somehow doesn’t seem right”] [Illustration: “Where did yer spend yer ’Olidays, Bob?” “Souf o’ Frarnce, o’ course!”] [Illustration: HOSPITALITY. _Spokesman of Working Men’s Club_ (_on the occasion of their Patron’s first visit_). “And we ’opes, Sir, as this ’ll be _neither_ the _first_ nor the _last_ time as you’ll dew us the honner of settin’ among us!”] [Illustration: SO INVITING!] [Illustration: ’_Bus Conductor_, “Emmersmith! Emmersmith! ’Ere ye are! Emmersmith!” ’_Liza Ann_. “Oo er yer callin’ Emmer Smith? Sorcy ’ound!”]