Local Hopshun, for instance, or Betting Laws, Prize Fight pervention, and such That some mealy-mouthed mugs are so sweet on; if they cop us, life ain't wuth much. Contrydicting myself? Oh, well, CHARLIE, I've sech a blarmed pain in my 'ed, And life looks a queer sort of mix wen you boss the whole bizness from bed. DAN the Dosser, who knows the Square well, 'aving slep in it night arter night, Sez the Golden Calf safely railed in by the Law is a 'eavenly sight. Acos Horder is 'Eaven's first Law, and, in conserkense, Law Earth's first horder; The Calf may sit safely hinside, whilst Scapegoats is kep hout of the border. I can't git the 'ang of his lingo; his patter's all picter somehow, And wot he quite means by that Calf, mate, _I_ dunno no more than a cow. But the Scapegoat, that's _him_, I suppose, and he looks it; it's rough, as he says; No marbles, no lodging, no grub, and that sort o' thing kep up for days! But the Scapegoats must not kick up shindies, and stop up our streets and our squares, That's a moral. Perhaps there is grabbers as wants to swag more than their shares. I ain't nuts on sweaters myself, and I do 'ate a blood-sucking screw, Who sponges and never stands Sam, and whose motto's "all cop, and no blue." Still, this 'ere blooming Hanarchy, CHARLEY, won't do at no figger, dear boy. A bit of a rorty romp round in the open a chap can enjoy, But brickbats and hoyster-knives? Walker! Not on in that scene, mate, not me! And a bash on the nob with a batton is not _my_ idea of a spree. To bonnet a lot of old blokes and make petticoats squeal is good biz, But a Crusher's 'ard knuckles a crunching yer scrag? No, I'm blowed if _that_ is! Let 'em swarm "in their thousands"--the mugs!--and their black and red flags let 'em carry; But wen they are next on the job they will 'ave to look wide-oh! for 'ARRY. * * * * * CUTTINGS AND SLIPS.--The following were extracted from the _Manchester Evening News_, Nov. 14:-- RESPECTABLE Woman WANTS WASHING, at Altrincham. RESPECTABLE Widow WANTS WASHING for Tuesday. The first one is not in a hurry; the second is, and names the day. Then or never. At first we thought it was a new form of advertising Somebody's Soap. * * * * * TO HIS MISTRESS. _From a Distracted Grammarian with "To Be" in his Bonnet._ With you, O Superlative Maiden, There can no Comparison be; And though Grammar makes "You" Second Person, You are first of all Persons to me. At Present my life is Imperfect (Not Irregular, _nota bené_), But with you for Auxiliary, dearest, How Perfect our Future might be.