Over the garden wall! 
        Dollars, dear, rule us all. 
    Patriot sentiment’s pretty, and yet
    Interest sways in the end, you bet! 
    MERCIER’s right; so pop, my pet,
        Over the Garden Wall!

  Where there’s a will there’s always a way,
        Over the garden wall! 
  MACDONALD’s a Boss, but he’s had his day,
        Over the garden wall! 
  Tariffs take money, but weddings are cheap,
  So wait till old JOHNNY is snoring asleep,
  Then give him the slip, and to JONATHAN creep. 
        Over the Garden Wall!

       Chorus (fortissimo).

        Over the garden wall!
        Your “Grand Old Man” may squall,
    And swear Miss CANADA’s loyal yet. 
    But loyalty bows to Dollars—­you bet! 
  ’Tis time our lips in union met
        Over the Garden Wall!

    [Left twangling seductively.

* * * * *

QUEER QUERIES.

DOMESTIC SERVICE.—­My General Servant has just left me suddenly, on the ridiculous excuse that she was being “killed by overwork.”  She was not required to rise before 5 A.M., and she was generally in bed by twelve.  Our house is not large, though rather lofty, and there are only fifteen in family.  Of course I shall not pay her any wages, and shall retain her boxes; but how can I really punish her for her shameful desertion?—­CONSIDERATE.

HAIR FALLING OFF.—­My hair is coming off, not slowly, but in one great circular patch at the top of the head.  A malicious report has in consequence been spread abroad in the neighbourhood that I have been scalped!  What course ought I to adopt to (1) recover damages against my traducers, and (2) recover my hair?—­LITTLE WOOL.

* * * * *

THE LIGHTS O’ LONDON.

“The first practical constructive step towards lighting the City of London by means of electricity, was taken yesterday (Feb. 3), when the LORD MAYOR placed in position the first stone of the main junction-box for the electric conductors, at the top of Walbrook, close under the shadow of the western walls of the Mansion House.”—­Times.

[Illustration:  Bill Sikes.  “WELL, I HAM BLOWED!  IF THEY’RE GOIN’ TO ’AVE THIS BEASTLY ’LECTRIC LIGHT ALL OVER THE PLACE—­WOT’S TO BECOME OF HUS?”]

Mr. William Sikes, Junior, loquitur:—­

  Well, I ham blowed!  I say, look ’ere, you NANCY! 
    Old Gog and Magog is woke up at last! 
  Goin’ to hilluminate the City.  Fancy!! 
    When this yer ’Lectric light is fairly cast
  On every nook and corner, hole and entry
    Of London, you and me is done, to-rights. 
  A Slop at every street-end standin’ sentry,
   Won’t spile our game like lots o’ ’Lectric Lights.