NOTICE.--Unless all the Jokes, which have been sent in about JULLIEN "cutting his _bâton_," are immediately removed from the _Punch_ Office, they will be sold as waste paper, and the proceeds devoted to the benefit of the "ASYLUM FOR IDIOTS." * * * * * [Illustration: AFFECTING IGNORANCE. Cabman. "_I beg your pardon, Sir, but is my Fare really a Sixpence?_"] * * * * * OUR HONEYMOON. SUNDAY, MAY 26, 18--. "My dear," said FRED, this morning--"I--I don't think I can go to church. But, of course, _you_ can go, I don't feel like myself this morning." "I don't wonder at that, love. Indeed, you don't look yourself. But I expected as much."-- "_You_, LOTTY!" and FRED opened his eyes. "Why, I knew what would come of it. Here were you out till twelve o'clock"-- "It wanted a quarter," said FRED, as if a quarter could make any difference. "Twelve o'clock," said I firmly, "allowing for watches, before you came home." "I told you--I was out talking with TOM," and FRED tapped the table. "Well, if I must say what I think, FRED; I don't like MR. TRUEPENNY. _I--do--not--like--him._" "I don't wish you to like him, my dear. You're to like and love me; and to love one man industriously and conscientiously is as much as any woman can be expected to do. More no reasonable husband can ask of her." But this I wouldn't seem to listen to. "Twelve o'clock," I repeated. "Well, what you could find to talk about all that time--and I sitting here at the window alone"-- "You might have gone to bed," said FREDERICK. "Gone to bed! And _you_ out! Why, what can you think me made of?" But he only looked at me from under his eyes and laughed. "I'm not a stock or a stone." "Certainly not, my darling. I may perhaps be permitted to observe--in your own picturesque language--quite the reverse. _Quite_ the reverse," and he again tapped the table. "No, love"--said I; for I thought I'd at once nip _that_ notion in the bud--"of course I don't wish, in fact, I should never think of such a thing, as to desire to control you in the choice of your friends. If I don't like MR. TRUEPENNY, why I can't help it; and there's an end. But what I wish to say, my love, is this--oh, it's no laughing matter, for I'm quite in earnest, I assure you--if MR. TRUEPENNY thinks he's to keep you out till twelve at night, and I'm to go to bed; if he thinks _that_"-- "But I don't believe"--said FRED coolly--"he thinks anything of the matter. Indeed, what is it to him whether you never go to bed at all?" "Of course; nothing. Only I'm not going to sit up and say nothing. A woman's not to be kept out of her bed as if her soul wasn't her own."-- "Why, your soul doesn't wear a nightcap, does it?" asked FRED, meaning to be aggravating. "I don't know _that_," said I; for, as I've said, I was determined to nip the notion in the bud. "Nevertheless"--for I wasn't to be put off--"what _could_ you talk of till twelve o'clock?"