What could I say?  What I did was to order a whole box of their “Incomparable Congou,” at four shillings a pound.

Wife (when I tell her of this) seems surprised.  Says “she won’t send me shopping again.”  But can one call this cosy—­this tea-cosy—­social visit to three accomplished women by the vulgar term “shopping “?

Wife incautiously mentions that she is “out of Coffee.”  Gives me an excuse to call on Firm again, and see if they sell Coffee too.  Yes, they do.  Head of Firm more fascinating than ever.  Asks me “if I would mind, as a very great favour, mentioning her tea to all my City friends?  She knows I have great influence in the City.”  Says this with winning smile.  Query—­is not Mincing Lane rather an appropriate locality for Lady Tea-dealers?

Later.  Wife has forbidden my ever going to Mincing Lane again!  Says the box of “Incomparable Congou” was mere “dust.”  So are my hopes!

* * * * *

A DENTIST’S WAITING-ROOM.

[Illustration]

Clasping tight my jaw, I staggered,
Pale and haggard,
To this room,
Where were fellow-martyrs sitting
In befitting,
Solemn gloom;

Whilst they turned, with air dejected,
Books collected
To amuse,
Graphics, or accumulated
Illustrated
London News.

How they glared!  No fellow-feeling
O’er them stealing,
Made them kind;
“Touch of nature” that is dental
Makes no mental
Kin, I find.

There I sat, the numbers growing
Less, each going
To his fate—­
What a dismal occupation! 
My elation
Was not great—­

Heard the butler call each saddened,
Toothache-maddened
Victim’s name;
Watched them wincing as they strode out: 
I should no doubt
Look the same.

Then, when me he had to take in,
“Mr. AIKIN!”
Made me quail;
O’er the after vivisection
Recollection
Draws a veil!

* * * * *

FROM THE SHADES.

(AT THE SIGN OF THE “CASTOR AND POLLUX.")

DEAR MISTER PUNCH,—­Look at ’ere!  This is not one of your penny papers—­there was none on ’em in my time—­ups and says, says it:—­“The travelling expenses from America of Mr. JACKSON, who is coming to England to fight Mr. SLAVIN for the Championship of the World, are reckoned at no less than L150.”

Wy, wot a delikit plarnt, wot a blooming hexotic, this “Mister” JACKSON (oh, the pooty perliteness of it!) must be!  Saloon passage and fust-class fare, I persoom, for the likes of ’im.  Isters and champagne, no doubt, and liquoor brandy, and sixpenny smokes!  A poor old pug like me wos glad of a steak and inguns, and a ‘arf ounce o’ shag, with a penny clay.  And as to “travelling hexpenses”—­I wonder wot the Noble Captings of our day would ’ave said to the accounts laid afore your “National Sporting Club!” L2000 for the Purse, and L150 for Mister JACKSON’s travelling hexpenses!!!  Oh, I say!  Pugs is a-looking up!  And yet I’m told some o’ your cockered-up fly-flappers carnt ’it a ‘ole in a pound o’ butter, or stand a straight nose-ender without turning faint!  Evidently funking and faking pays a jolly sight better than ’onesty and ’ard ’itting.