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ON CHRISTMAS EVE.

WHAT! Christmas again! I had almost forgotten That the time had come round for this pageant once

And I hardly know why, but I find "something

In the state"--of affairs, as did Hamlet of yore. For I dread all this season of frolicsome folly,

we keep

"Merry Christ

mases ever in stock,

When the Curates are happy with putting up holly

And mistletoe, too, with the fair of their flock.

Ah! that mention of mistletoe sets me a-thinking
Of a girl, whom I knew for a minute or so.

I was young at the time, and there's no use in blinking
The fact that it happened a long time ago.
She reminded are strangely of sweet Dolly Varden,

She was dressed for the part, and I thought her as fair;
And I recollect well how we strolled in the garden

To look at a flower, which, of course, wasn't there.

She was, oh so afraid that her friends would have missed her,
And she really did think I should "take her in now."
Which I did on the spot right away-for I kissed her,
Just beneath a large tree with an arch shapen bough.
Then she flared up directly.-how dared I to do it?
But I listened to all her blind fury with glee,
As I laughingly showed her-for I alone knew it-
An immense piece of mistletoe up in the tree.

I have ne'er seen her since. And so here I sit sighing,
Whilst the snow 's lying thick on the pavement outside.
Yet, stay-it's the poets, perhaps, do the lying;

They could do a good deal in that line if they tried.

I am right. It's quite fine. There's the sun through the trees. On

Reflection, I quite think the right thing to do

Is to join heart and soul in the joys of the season,

So I'm in for a Right Merry Christmas,-aren't you?

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MR. PUNCH'S HANDBOOK OF DEFINITIONS. (For the Use of Young Writers.)

A DOWAGER.

(a.) A DRAGON with a brood of daughters. She must be appeased by the sacrifice of an eldest son, or by the offer of the first-fruits (and meats) of the supper

table.

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(b.) A being of uncertain temper and a certain age. Though she has a will of her own, she often depends upon the will of her husband, and is much given to deplore both the fixity of her own income and the laxity of other people's morals.

(c.) A Society line-ofbattle ship, rendered obsolete by the loss of her consort. Though she often provokes engagements, she is never known to strike her flag. She will blockade a defenceless bachelor in order to cut off his supplies and make them her daughter's,

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and will bombard a Royal Palace in order to capture an invitation. (d.) A star of unknown magnitude revolving round the sons of other stars.

A BANKRUPT.

(a.) A TRUE man who observes all human properties with a view to making them his own. Yet, while he acquires the possessions,

he alienates the affection of his creditors, and is often stripped of all that he ought never to have had, in order that the lender

of a pound may be made happy by the bestowal of a penny. (b.) A musician, who always plays with notes, and finds in composition a neverfailing consolation.

(c.) A paradox, who, though he always outruns the constable, is often caught by the police, and finds himself face to face with liabilities which he is never able to meet.

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Owing to not having time to turn round, he sometimes omits to act on the square, and always qualifies by total failure for the successful passing of his examination.

SONG FOR SHROVE TUESDAY. LIFE's like a pancake, very thin flat matter, Tasteless (without Love's sugar and Hate's lemon) At health's firm bastion not in vain its "batter," With Indigestion an attendant demon.

Kept o'er the fire, continually crossed,

By fumes of darkness, and with trouble "tossed."

SIMPLE STORIES.

"Be always kind to animals wherever you may be!"

No. IV.-PETER AND THE PIG.

A KIND but injudicious Uncle had sent PETER a very largo porkpie. PETER'S Mamma had invited a number of his young friends to share it with him on his birthday. She meant that they should have a little feast, and all be very happy and merry together. This excellent idea, however, did not meet with PETER'S approval. He was a selfish boy, and had no notion of his porkpie being converted into a limited liability company. So when his Mamma was busy with preparations for the feast, and his sister was taking her music-lesson, he tied up the pork-pie in a blue pocket-handkerchief, and stole quietly out of the house, determined to have a private pic-nic.

He walked away rapidly till he found himself in the Waffle Woods, and when he knew he was quite out of sight and hearing, he sat himself down beneath an oak tree; he undid the blue handkerchief, and brought out his pork-pie. "Now," said the greedy boy, as he cut himself an enormous slice, "I shall enjoy myself very much."

He continued to eat, but he found he did not enjoy it. He however, tried his hardest to fancy he was having a very good time. At his fourth slice he heard a rustling in the bushes. He started and trembled, because he knew he was doing wrong. He was horrified to find the intruder was none other than Snaboo, his father's big black pig, also having a pic-nic by itself on acorns.

PETER was indeed frightened, because he remembered that he had frequently goaded and teased Snaboo in its stye. Not a moment was to be lost. The Pig had seen the boy, and PETER had scarcely gained a safe position up the tree, before Snaboo was grunting furiously at its foot, and vindictively trampling the

pork-pic to pieces. There the Pig remained, and snorted, and grunted, and stamped. It was getting long past dinner-time, and PETER was afraid he should have to stop all night in the tree. At last, thinking the Pig was getting quiet, he looked

cautiously out. He looked out too far. He slipped; he fell! He fell astride on the Pig's broad back, with his arms round its neck.

The boy was an excellent rider, and his presence of mind on this occasion saved him. Laying hold of the Pig by the ears, and sticking his knees well into its fat sides, he jerked its head up. Snaboo gave a fiendish squeal, and started at a terrific pace the shortest cut to the Farm. PETER had nothing to do but to hold on. He was bruised by branches, torn by briars, and bespattered with mud. He arrived at the Farm looking like a scarecrow, and found all his nicelydressed little friends waiting for the birthday feast.

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PETER, however, could not join in the festivity. Bumped, bruised and bleeding; torn, tattered and tired; cross, chilled and crestfallen; sick, sad and sorry, he had to go to bed at once. And there he mused over the disadvantages of gluttony and the fleeting nature of all earthly joys.

Ever afterwards he treated pigs with the most profound respect, and he never saw a pork-pie without immediately longing to give it away.

LINES BY A LOVER OF FASHION. METAPHYSICIANS never will inveigle

My mind to study all their hollow "humming"; But in one thing I do agree with HEGEL That "everything's becoming."

That is, of course, everything that's in fashion. (N.B. This puts my spouse in such a passion!)

MR. PUNCH'S HANDBOOK OF DEFINITIONS. (For the Use of Young Writers.)

MOTHERS-IN-LAW.

(a.) They are such stuff as grandmothers are made of, Though the raw material is (conventionally) disagreeable, the manufactured article is universally considered delightful. It is curious that the same woman who is supposed to overwhelm a second generation with advice and anger, should load the third with indulgence and gifts.

(b.) Stock for the professional comic man's literary soup-kitchen. As thin humour à la mauvaise femme, they are ladled out piping hot in recitations, in farces, and in the comic columns of country newspapers.

(c.) Women who reprove in their daughters those domestic faults which they have never attempted to control in their own conduct. On the whole, they are kindly critics of the failings and merits of their sons-in-law, but they rarely associate on friendly terms with those other mothers-in-law with whom they may happen to be connected by marriage. They often bestow jewels and warnings upon their daughters-in-law.

A BUTLER.

(a.) A mean between a cook and a master. In the basement, and part of the ground floor, he reigns under the title of " Mr. "; but, as he rises on the staircase, he drops in dignity, until he enters the drawing-room with a bare sur

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name.

(b.) A glass of fashion to the pantry department, and a mould of form to the lady who moulds the creams and jellies. He is naturally much addicted to the intimate companionship of other glasses, which sometimes cast reflections upon his character.

(c.) A privileged person, who constantly sees what his host often desires, in vain, to see-the backs of all the guests at a dinner-party. He holds himself solemnly and silently aloof from all dinner-table conversations; and the joke of a guest, which throws a hostess into convulsions, fails to raise a smile upon his marble face. Though he is not invariably amiable, he frequently helps every guest at table, and, in this sense (amongst others) he is not only an aider, but a better than the host.

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ALL THE DIFFERENCE.

In the Stable. Quite quict Horse being admired by Professional Groom and Amateur Equestrian. "HE WOULDN'T HURT A BIBY-HE'S A 'OS AS YOU CAN TRUST."

MR. PUNCH'S PREDICTIONS FOR 1892.

FOR MAY.

ON the 1st the birthday of the Duke of CONNAUGHT will cause great satisfaction, the event being celebrated by the Sun, who will rise on this special occasion at 4:34 A.M., and set at 7.23 P.M. The 93rd anniversary of the Storming of Seringapam will be celebrated on the 4th by the survivors of that memorable victory. A list of the names of those present at the Academy Banquet will be given in the daily papers on the following morning. This will be a bad time for City men to put up their names at the West-End Clubs, as the operation is sure to end in disaster. South Africa will again attract attention, and the Daily Graphic will obtain letters from that interesting spot with a less expenditure than £2,000. Excitement may be expected in France, and several political prisoners will be sent to Siberia. The Volunteers will once more show a falling off in numbers, and questions will be asked in Parliament, without eliciting a satisfactory answer. Sporting men will take an interest in the Derby, and there will be a slight disturbance in South America. weather of the month will be changeable. The Sun, however, will be seen several times during the thirty-one days by resident Londoners.

FOR JUNE.

The

ON the 18th, the 77th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo will produce a paragraph in the morning papers. In the House there will be several Divisions, which will lead to small results. The so-called "working-men" will require an eight hours' day of labour, but will be opposed by four-fifths of their fellows. The City will be unsettled, foreign stock being depressed, and grey shirtings absolutely dull. The weather will be changeable, and once more become a topic of conversation. During the month rain will be threatening, or actually fall in the Isle of Skye.

FOR JULY.

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THIS will be a great month for America. Nothing much elsewhere. It may be assumed that if the London County Council has hitherto behaved with propriety (a large assumption), now will be the time for the members to distinguish themselves, individually and collectively, as idiots. They will be guilty of some gross piece of folly that will be received with derision by the world at large, and with joy by the writers of comic copy.

FOR AUGUST.

ON the 1st, the statutory Bank Holiday will be observed by the overcrowding of excursiontrains and the enlivening of quiet wateringplaces. Rejoicings at Margate. After months of wrangling over the smallest and least important measure, a year's legislation will be hurried through both Houses in half-a-dozen days. Goose-shooting commences. Hampers due early at Mr. Punch's Office, 85, Fleet Street. During the month a bad time may be expected in the City. The Outside Advertising Broker will advise in vain. In spite of frequent suggestions to take up Turkish Bösh and other securities of equal value, the public will stand aside.

SEPTEMBER.

CARTRIDGES and Partridges. On the 1st, partridge buying and selling will commence, the shooting having begun some days previously. On the 10th, the CHANCELLOR of the ExCHEQUER will keep his sixty-first birthday, and will reflect seriously upon the advisability of extinguishing the Income-Tax. People who were personally acquainted with King RICHARD THE THIRD will remember that the 22nd of this month was (in 1185) the date of his death. There will be an invasion of Switzerland by the great tribes of BROWN, JONES and ROBINSON, and the clan of MCSMITH will flow into Italy. Letters of complaint, about foreign hotels and foreign travel generally, will appear in the Times. OCTOBER.

EVERY one being more or less out of town until the end of the month, Fate will be busier abroad than at home. The GERMAN

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ALL THE

DIFFERENCE.

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Amateur (making his acquaintance). "BUT-YOU 'VE GOT TO KNOW HIM FUST."

EMPEROR, who will have spent the summer in upsetting all the arrangements of his Royal Brethren by paying them unsolicited visits, will turn his attention to domestic affairs. He will interfero with the couriers, the housemaids, the piano-makers, the brewers, the toy-manufacturers, and the chemists. Having settled these small matters, he will take funerals in hand, and revolutionise the undertaking trade. After this he will alter all the railways, and fortify Berlin. By this time the date will have been reached for his visits to Australia, Siberia, Thibet, and Timbuctoo. There will be storms at sea, and great trouble on land will be caused by the opening, on the 24th, of the Michaelmas Law Sittings.

FOR NOVEMBER.

ON the 3rd, the MIKADO of JAPAN will attain his thirtieth year, but in London the birthday will be observed with appropriate distinctions on the 5th. 9th, Good day for going out quietly and seeing the sights. A few persons will dine in the City. The General Election will certainly be held in this month, unless some other date is selected for an appeal to the Constituencies. Coals will rise in value, and much uneasiness will be felt as to the future of gas and the electric light. During the month, London will gradually receive back the number of holidaytaking absentees, who will receive a hearty welcome by the County Council, who will carefully take up the roads on the Embankment, the Strand, Fleet Street, Holborn, and other popular thoroughfares.

FOR DECEMBER.

THE year will end in comparatively cold weather. Compared with August, the thermometer will be found several degrees lower, although possibly higher than the readings of July. On the 17th, the Law Terms of the year will end amidst great rejoicings. After this there will be no date worthy of notice until the 25th, when all the world over there will be family greetings of a more or less cordial character. 26th. Good day to go out of Town early, and remain in some part of the country where you are quite unknown, and where no Christmas-boxes can be expected of you, returning in time for first Pantomime Night at Drury Lane.

THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN. (By an Old-fashioned Fellow.)

I'D sooner PHILLIS well-cooked a potato,
Than talk of the Symposium of PLATO:
I'd rather CHLOE helped me pass the bottle,
Than pass eulogiums on ARISTOTLE :
When physic should be shaken well and taken,
Kind Nurse NEERA need not talk of BACON :
And when soft fingers ought to mend my sock,
LALAGE should not lisp to me of LOCKE.

When I've the megrims and the time would kill,
MYRTILLA must not fill my mind with MILL,
Nor RHODOPE retort, when I incense her,
With icy arguments from HERBERT SPENCER.
No PHILLIS, CHLOE, LALAGE, NEERA,

I love not this emancipated era.

To teach the sweeter sex to know its station,
And fill it, is the Higher Education!

MIXED PROVERBS.

IT is a long-suffering worm that has no turning.
A rolling snowball gathers as it

The "proof" of the plum-pudding is in the brandy-sauce.

When beauty looks out of window, love comes in at the door.

A "fourpenny doss" makes us acquainted. with strange bed-fellows.

Early to bed and early to rise means snuffing the candle of life at both ends.

You cannot restore hearing to a deaf sow with a silken purse. Time and Tide never turn the "Tables on each other. The more 66 laps" the less "sprinting." It generally takes three to make a quarrel; two to differ, and one to set them by the ears.

Birds of a feather are the most jealous of each other's plumage, fine feathers often making unfair birds.

You never value the water till your neighbour wants to fill her bucket at your well.

A "bird" in the bag is worth a brace in the heather. [hens. Don't buy eggs for hatching until you have counted your sitting

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