Keep it?  Ay, by Jove! 
    We are on our mettle. 
  ’Tis a game we love
    More than Pot and Kettle. 
  Poorish sport that same,
    Angry mutual blackening. 
  Here’s a merrier game. 
    Pull up there!  Who’s slackening? 
  Not the leader, Punch! 
    On he goes, amazing,
  To the rest his hunch
    Like a beacon blazing. 
  Not Old Father X! 
    How the Ancient goes it! 
  ’Tis a sight to vex
    Malice, and he knows it;
  Not young Master BULL! 
    At the game he’s handy,
  Nor has much the pull
    Of his pal, young SANDY;
  Not that dark-eyed girl
    With her cloak a-flying,
  She can swing and swirl
    With the boys.  She’s trying
  Everything she knows. 
    As for Master PADDY,
  Whoop there!  Down he goes! 
    Bumped a bit, poor laddy! 
  What then?  At this game
    Who would be a stopper
  Just because he came
    Now and then a cropper? 
  Up and on once more,
    Chance by courage foiling! 
  Hark the jovial roar! 
    “Keep the Pot a-boiling!”

  Father Christmas, hail! 
    Sure ’tis flagrant folly
  Now to rave and rail. 
    Truce—­beneath your holly! 
  Darkest England waits
    Care Co-operative;
  Mood that moat elates
    Is to-day—­the dative! 
  You need not doubt,
    You’re no “Grecian” giver. 
  Many “cold without,”
    Foodless, hopeless, shiver;
  Many a poor man’s pot,
    Even at your season,
  With no pudding hot
    Bubbles.  Is’t not treason
  Unto more than kings
    To waste time in fighting
  Whilst such crooked things
    Stand in need of righting? 
  In the name of those
    Starving, suffering, toiling,
  Let our quarrels close—­
    “Keep the Pot a-boiling!”

* * * * *

FIGHTING THE FOG.

(A SEASONABLE HINT.)

Sir,—­I have read several letters in the papers complaining of the fog, and asking not only how one is to protect the system from its injurious effects, but also soliciting information as to how one is to safeguard oneself against street accident, if obliged to quit the premises during its prevalence.  The first is simple enough.  Get a complete diver’s suit, put it on, and let an attendant follow you with a pumping apparatus, for the purpose of supplying you with the fumes of hydro-bi-carbon (DAFFY’s solution) in a state of suspension.  This will considerably assist the breathing.  To avoid street accident, wear an electric (SWANN) light, five hundred candle power, on the top of your hat, round the brim of which, in case of accident, you have arranged a dozen lighted night-lights.  Strap a Duplex Reflector on to your back, and fasten a Hansom cab-lamp on to each knee.  Let a couple of boys, bearing flaming links, and beating dinner-gongs, clear the way for you, while you yourself shout “Here comes the Bogie Man!” or any other appropriate ditty, through a fog-horn, which you carry in one hand, while you spring a policeman’s ancient rattle vigorously with the other.  You will, if thus provided, get along capitally.  Be careful at crossings, for your sudden appearance might possibly frighten an omnibus horse or two, and cause trouble.