_The Proprietor_. "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, SHARDSON, I'M GETTING SICK OF THE 'OLE BLOOMIN' SHOW! _THE KNACKER_ AIN'T SELLING A SCRAP--NO NOTICE TOOK OF US ANYWHERE--NOT A BLOOMIN' ADVERTISEMENT! AND YET THERE AIN'T 'ARDLY A LIVIN' ENGLISHMAN OF MARK, FROM TENNYSON DOWNWARDS, AS WE 'AVEN'T SHOWN UP AND PITCHED INTO, AND DRAGGED 'IS NAME IN THE MUD!" _The Editor_. "DON'T LET'S THROW UP THE SPONGE YET, OLD MAN! LET'S GIVE THE DEAD 'UNS A TURN--LET'S HAVE A SHY AT THACKERAY, BROWNING, GEORGE ELIOT, OR, BETTER STILL, LET'S BESPATTER GENERAL GORDON AND CARDINAL NEWMAN A BIT,--_THAT_ OUGHT TO FETCH 'EM A FEW, AND BRING US INTO NOTICE!"] * * * * * WHAT HOE! RAIKES!--When King RICHARD--no, beg his pardon, Mr. RICHARD KING--says, as quoted in the _Times_, "That he can only assume that Mr. RAIKES purposely availed himself of a technicality to cover a statement which was a palpable _suggestio falsi_," he throws something unpleasant into the teeth of RAIKES. It is as well to remember that rakes have teeth. * * * * * "LATINÉ DOCTUS."--A Cantab, neither a first-rate sailor nor a first-class classic, arrived at Calais after a rough passage, looking, as his friend, who met him on the _quai_, observed, "so changed he would hardly have known him." "That's it," replied the staggering graduate, "_quantum mutatus ab billow!_" Oh! he must have been bad! * * * * * THE SONG THAT BROKE MY HEART. I paused in a crowded street, I only desired to ride-- Only to wait for a Hammersmith 'bus With room for myself outside; When I caught the nastiest tune My ear had ever heard, And asked the Police to take it away, But never a man of them stirred. So the singer still sang on; She would not, would not go; She sang a song of the year before last That struck me as rather low. She followed with one that was high, That made the tear-drops start, That was "_Hi-tiddly-i-ti! Hi!-ti!-hi!_" The song that broke my heart! * * * * * WHAT is A "DEMOGRAPHER"?--Those Londoners who ask this question will have already obtained a practical answer, as, this week, London is full of Demographers, to whom _Mr. Punch_, Grand Master of all Demographers (or "writers for the people"), gives a hearty welcome. All hail to "The New Demogracy!" * * * * * 'ARRY ON A 'OUSE-BOAT. [Illustration] Dear CHARLIE,--It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a bust; Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' thust. Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday still; So I'll pull out my _eskrytor_, CHARLIE, and give you a touch of my quill.