1907.—­Emigration of 2000 Doctors (who have no work to do) to one of General BOOTH’s Colonies at South Pole.  Show (in Temple Gardens) of delicate ferns and roses grown in atmosphere of Strand.

1908.—­Strike of Whitewashers, Laundresses, and House Painters, against lack of employment.  Go about singing, “Oh, call the Fog-Fiend back to us!” with refrain, “Oh, when the Fogs were here with us, Would we had used them more!”

1909.—­Last surviving Chimney-sweeper, provided with a well-ventilated chamber at Madame Tussaud’s.  Special charge of sixpence for adults, threepence for children, made for privilege of seeing him.

1910.—­Rest of inhabitants of England, as well as foreign invalids, flock to London because of noted purity and salubrity of its climate.  Riviera deserted.  London a little over-crowded, but very clean.

* * * * *

THREE ACRES AND AN EGG.

The following pleasing announcement appears in the advertisement columns of the East of Fife Record.—­

    WANTED, COTTAGERS and others to HATCH EGGS.  Liberal Terms. 
    Apply, &c.

We are glad to see the men of Fife thus taking the lead in creating new openings for the agricultural labourer.  Of course the weather will have much influence upon the success of the new avocation.  To sit out hatching eggs in one of such blizzards as we have had since Christmas would be exceedingly inconvenient, upon whatever “Liberal terms.”  But, given a fair summer day or a quiet autumn evening, there seems something quite idyllic in the picture of the agricultural labourer sitting out in his own Three Acres hatching eggs,—­probably laid by the Cow.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  OLD FRIENDS.

“DO YOU EVER SEE BOBBIE BOUNCER NOW?”

“OH DEAR NO!  HE’S FAR TOO GREAT A SWELL!  IF ONE PITCHES INTO ANYTHING HE DOES, HE CUTS UP ROUGH, IF YOU PLEASE, AND GIVES ONE THE COLD SHOULDER!  THOSE VERY SUCCESSFUL FELLOWS ALWAYS DO!”

“AND BILL JAKES?”

“POOR OLD STICK-IN-THE-MUD!  HAD TO DROP HIM!  DOOCID SIGHT TOO FOND OF TELLING ONE THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT ONESELF, WHEN ONE’S NOT INCLINED FOR IT, YOU KNOW!  ALWAYS THE WAY WITH THOSE FELLOWS WHO DON’T GET ON!”]

* * * * *

THE FRIEND OF LABOUR.

  How doth the provident M.P. 
    Improve each shining hour,
  And in the “Labour Question” see
    Hopes of return to power!

  How skilfully he shapes his “sell,”
    How neatly spreads his “fakes”! 
  On Labour’s ear they sound right well,
    The promises he makes.

  Skilled Labour, Labour without skill,
    He would have busy, too;
  Nay, he would find some Labour still
    For idle “hands” to do.

  Yet, Labour, whatsoe’er he say,
    To trust him be not fast;
  Or you’ll discover, some fine day,
    He’ll diddle you at last!