"Women, too, getting that bloomin' _hadvanced_ they all paternise you--_and_ a cigaratte. Drat 'em! Few years agone they'd a fynted at thought on it. Women fair knock-outs. Could never get at 'em! Foller their leaders like sheep to a slorter-'ouse. Drive theirselves next, I persoom, _on_ a Forder. Party you took up outside 'ere larst night, 'er in feathers and paint, was a pooty tall horder." "Known _'er_ six year, BILL," I says with a sigh like. "A sweeter young snowdrop than when I first druv 'er You couldn't 'a' button-holed. Ah! and she's pooty as paint--bar _the_ paint--at this moment, Lord luv 'er! Frolicsome, freehanded,--fast? Well, I s'pose so. She used to drive up with a toffy young masher. Turtle-doves? Well,'twas a pleasure to see 'em, BILL; 'er such a dainty 'un, 'im such a dasher." "Innercent, hay? _Yes_, as rain-sprinkled laylock boughs. _'E_ broke 'is neck in a steeplechase, BILLY, _She_ took to sewing, and dropped smiles and 'ansoms. Wilted away like a gas-shrivelled lily. Then I lost sight on 'er, couple o' year or so. Next she turned up as--well, BILLY you've seen 'er, Pro. at the "Pompydour," generous, gassy, and--well, p'r'aps as _good_ as a lot that look greener." "Bah!" snaps BILL BOGER, dissecting 'is bloater as though 'twos 'umanity, and 'im a surgeon; "Life as it's seen from the cab-driver's 'pulpit' would give some new texts to a PARKER or SPURGEON. _Culler-der-rose_, indeed! Yaller-der-janders! It's most on it dubersome, dirty or dingy. The free 'anded fares is best part on 'em quisby, and them as _is_ righteous runs sour-like _and_ stingy." I says, "BILL, you're bilious!" 'E snorts supercilious, and bolts the 'ard-roe. "Hah, young Daffydowndilly," 'E growls as 'e munches, "of all the green bunches o' Spring inguns _you_ are the greenest. It's silly, Your slop-over sentiment is, _for_ a Cabby!!!"--Fare? "Finsbury Park, and look slippy!" "All right, Sir!"-- "We'll argue it out, BILLY BOGER, some other time." Right away coachman! Kim up mare! Good night, Sir! * * * * * The words of that arch-humourist, the late ARTEMUS WARD, on the subject of the New Woman, whom he designated "a he-lookin' female," are worth repeating:--"'O, woman, woman,' I cried, my feelins worked up to a hi poetick pitch, 'you air a angle when you behave yourself; but when you take off your proper appairel and (mettyforically speaken) get into pantyloons--when you desert your firesides, and with your heds full of wimin's rites noshuns go round like roarin lyons, seekin whom you may devour someboddy--in short, when you undertake to play the man, you play the devil and air an emfatic noosence. My female friends,' I continnered, as they were indignantly departin, 'wa well what A. WARD has sed!'"