Yours ever, HENRY.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _M.O._ "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, MY MAN?"
_Private_. "VALVULAR DISEASE OF THE HEART, SIR."
_M.O._ "MY WORD! HOW DID YOU GET THAT?"
_Private_. "LAST MEDICAL BOARD GIVE IT ME, SIR."]
* * * * *
"Will anyone knowing where to obtain the game of 'Bounce'
kindly inform A.T.?"--_Advt. in "The Times."_
"A.T." should address himself to the Imperial Palace at Potsdam.
* * * * *
AN ELEGY ON CLOSED STATIONS.
(_SUGGESTED BY AN OFFICIAL NOTICE OF THE L. & N.W.R._)
The whole vicinity of Hooley Hill
Is smitten with a devastating chill,
And the once cheerful neighbourhood of Pleck
Has got the hump and got it in the neck.
The residential gentry of Pont Rug
No longer seem self-satisfied or smug,
And the distressed inhabitants of Nantlle
Are wrapped in discontent as in a mantle.
Good folk who Halted once at Apsley Guise
Are now afflicted with a sad surprise,
While Oddington, another famous Halt,
Is silent as a sad funereal vault;
And the dejected denizens of Cheadle
Look one and all as if they'd got the needle.
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