If our readers want to be told what we think of this farce, they will be disappointed; if they wish to know whether it is good or bad, witty or dull, lively or stupid—­whether it ought to have been damned outright, or to supersede the Christmas pantomime—­whether the actors played well or played the deuce—­whether the scenery is splendid and the appointments appropriate or otherwise, they must judge for themselves by going to see it; because if we gave them our opinion they would not believe us, seeing that the author is one of our most esteemed (especially over a boiled chicken and sherry), most merry, most jolly, most clever colleagues; one, in fine, of PUNCH’S “United Service.”

* * * * *

“I have been running ever since I was born and am not tired now”—­as the brook said to Captain Barclay.

“Hookey”—­as the carp said, when he saw a worm at the end of a line.

“Nothing is certain”—­as the fisherman said, when he always found it in his nets.

“Brief let it be”—­as the barrister said in his conference with the attorney.

“He is the greatest liar on (H) earth”—­as the cockney said of the lapdog he often saw lying before the fire.

When is a hen most likely to hatch?  When she is in earnest (her nest).

Why are cowardly soldiers like butter?  When exposed to a fire they run.

Do you sing?—­says the teapot to the kettle—­Yes, I can manage to get over a few bars.—­Bah, exclaimed the teapot.

* * * * *