BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES.

CHAPTER EIGHTH.-THE FUNNY DOG-OF WAGG-MR. HYÆNER AND MISS CATTERINE CHESSER-MORE WAGG-MORE NIPPER-POODEL -NIPPER'S GRIEVANCES.

MR. TED NIPPER, the FUNNY DOG, is what is called in society an Acquisition. He is formed by nature for a drawing-room low comedian, and possesses certain advantages over the professional Droll, inasmuch as, to see the latter, you must suit his convenience, not your own, while the former comes to you at your own time and place. "Therein," as WAGG would say, who follows the FUNNY DOG, "lies the difference between the former and the latter, or rather, the former and the per-former." But then WAGG is such a fellow!

WAGG (while I am on the subject) is not equal to NIPPER, that is, in society's opinion, though in reality little WAGG is original and NIPPER is not; moreover he says clever things, which is utterly beyond NIPPER, who is simply a Droll. Sometimes they are asked to a party together, when NIPPER, in conversation at the dinner-table, is utterly snuffed out by WAGG, and is, so to speak, nowhere. In fact, on this occasion, but for the justice he does to the dishes and drinks, NIPPER might as well be under the table as at it. He seldom ventures upon a passage of arms with WAGG without being speedily shut up and discomfited; when, with much tact, he joins the laugh against himself, and gives such a comical roll of his eyes, and such a funny little abrupt cough, by way of an aside, as puts WAGG's witty repartee out of every one's mind, and sets them laughing at and with NIPPER. NIPPER professes much friendly feeling for WAGG, and secretly envies him his talent. WAGG affects to patronise NIPPER, whom he treats as a hope"How d'ye do?" says MR. NIPPER to MR. WAGG one day. At which funny speech his admirers went into shrieks of laughter. "For you see," as that giggler HYENER explained to me, "it's not so much what he says, but the way he says it;" in which observation I perfectly concurred.

less buffoon.

When the FUNNY DOG gave utterance to the above memorable speech, he accompanied it with a shrug of the shoulders, a closing of the eyes, and a pursed-up smile which increased the merriment of his audience. He can't even say the most commonplace thing without some drollery of this sort.

"Hallo! JACK PUDDING," replied MR. WAGG, "what a pity it is old WIDDICOMB isn't alive: you'd have made a fortune with him as the Clown at Astley's. I wonder you don't take to a Circus now?" Whereat MR. NIPPER was very much annoyed, as he informed me afterwards, privately; but at the moment all he did was to imitate a Clown in a Circus, asking MR. WAGG whether there was "anything he could go for to fetch for to carry for to bring," and other conventional funniments of the Circus level. MR. HYENER at this was in yells of laughter again, and as for MISS CATTERINE CHESSER (a young lady who is always, according to her own account, either "shrieking or "screaming" with exuberant merriment), she fairly "went off" in a high giggling key, and begged MR. NIPPER, in an exhausted voice from behind a small pocket-handkerchief, "not to be so very absurd." The FUNNY DOG was much hurt by WAGG's expressed opinion of him as a buffoon.

"Hang it!" he says to his intimate friends, "I'm not a buffoon, am 1?" His tone is so piteous that you can't find it in your heart to tell him that WAGG isn't far wrong, even if not entirely right. So NIPPER'S friend, probably MARSH TOADIE, replies,

"Buffoon, my dear fellow, of course not. You 're a deuced good actor, and WAGG's jealous. It was only for the sake of saying a smart thing before MISS CHESSER."

"Yes," says the FUNNY DOG, not much relishing this last remark; "but it wasn't a very smart thing to call me a buffoon."

Bah, my dear boy," returns TOADIE, JOHNSON called GARRICK a buffoon; but that didn't make him one, eh ?" "No, of course not," says the poor FUNNY DOG, quite brightening up at this portrait of himself as GARRICK. Henceforth he adopts this argument as his own, and when WAGG repeats his offence, NIPPER is down upon him with the example of JOHNSON.

"What JOHNSON ?" asks WAGG. "BEN or SAM?"

showman, with whose celebrated speech he now parries WAGG'S searching inquiry.

a

Vichever you like, my little dear," says NIPPER, in the character just mentioned. You pays your money, and you takes your chice." His admirers describe this as "doosed clever of NIPPER," and " regular shut-up for WAGG." But the FUNNY DOG is perfectly aware that he has had to defend himself against the charge of buffoonery by putting on the cap and bells, and begging for quarter at his adversary's hand, in the character of an idiot. Calling upon him next day I was enabled to follow the course of his studies since the encounter of the previous evening, by his ingenuous remark to me, that "It was odd, but he never knew, or rather, had never noticed till to-day, that BEN JONSON spelt his name without an H." He had also been looking out GARRICK's date and contemporaries, for BOSWELL'S Life was lying on the table.

WAGG is a performing dog in his own way, but in a totally different line, as you perceive, from NIPPER'S.

There is also ALF POODEL, who belongs to the category of Funny Dogs. But he is only an inferior Nipper, with puns added of the worst description possible. PoODEL, like the marmalade in the advertisements, is an excellent substitute for" NIPPER at dinner, or at amateur theatricals. POODEL is, in fact, the second low comedian, and if POODEL and NIPPER have both to perform in a piece, to NIPPER is given the choice of parts, and POODEL takes what he can get and makes the most of it-if he can.

As to his personal appearance, the Funny Dog is short-all funny dogs are. I only remember one exception, and he was a Grotesque of over six feet high, which was somehow funny in itself, as a sort of exaggerated caricature. In fact this comic monster was NIPPER seen through a magnifying glass of immense power. Do my readers recollect the shout of laughter which used to greet the appearance of the magnified lecturer, focussed on to the dissolving-view white sheet at the Polytechnic, where he used to open his cavern of a month to eat a penny, or as it then appeared a two-and-sixpenny, bun? Well, if they do, that will give them some idea of the cumbersome tall Droll, at whom no one could help langhing when he opened his mouth; that is, if it wasn't to say anything.

NIPPER is inclined to podginess. POODEL is more sketchy. NIPPER belongs to the Grimaldi order of clown; PoODEL to the tumbling.

The FUNNY DOG is not only funny in himself, but is the cause of attempts at fun in others. Thus the gravest men meeting NIPPER will think it incumbent upon them to assume a manner totally at variance with their known character, much in the same way as we accommodate our conversation to the infantile style when we visit a friend's nursery.

This, by the way, is a source of as great annoyance to the FUNNY Dog as being stigmatised as a Buffoon by WAGG.

A Chancery Barrister, at whose house NIPPER has been very happy in a Buckstonian character, in some recent theatricals, meets him in the street. The Barrister is middle-aged, ordinarily grave and solemn.

He sees NIPPER. In a second that grave man forces himself to be jocose and practically funny. He exclaims, "Ha, Mr. Box!" which is the character he has taken in that classic work, and favours him with (as he thinks) a complimentary imitation.

"How do you do?" returns NIPPER, severely, by way of reproving the Chancery man for attempting to interfere with his (the FUNNY DoG's) peculiar line.

Been acting lately?" asks the Barrister.

No!" returns NIPPER, carelessly, "not much;" though the fellow knows he has been performing every night, and is full of engagements. "Aha!" says his friend, we must have some more theatricals soon. We'll do a farce for you and me. I'll play whatever you like. How you made my wife laugh! She can't get it out of her head. I never saw anything so absurd as you were in that white hat. Ha! Ha! Ha!" And the worthy Lawyer goes off into a roar (all by way of compliment) at the bare recollection.

The FUNNY DOG despises him for laughing at such nonsense, and feels annoyed at his reminding him of having made a fool of himself. He complains to a friend. Why," he says, "can't he" (referring to the Chancery man) "speak to me sensibly. I don't want every one to come up with a caper and a grin. It's abominably annoying. I

"Under which king, Bezonian, speak or die?"

with a dash of sentiment in them. 'Pon my word," he goes on bitterly, 'people seem to think that I'm always going about with a white hat, and hiding in a cupboard, or sitting on somebody's bonnet in a bandbox. Idiots!"

But really and truly so he is. He was born for it; and is never funnier than when he is seriously annoyed.

(To be Continued.)

TWO HEADS ARE NOT BETTER THAN ONE.

ECLOGUE OF THE SIAMESE. TWINS.
SIAM's famed twins, conjoined by living band,
Before the British Public took their stand
Prepared, the one to chant in lofty strain,
The other to respond in numbers plain.
The Brothers thus alternate verses sang,
CHANG first; then tuneful ENG, succeeding CHANG.

Chang. BRITANNIA, glorious Island of the Free!
Eng. There isn't such another in the sea.
Chang. Great Ocean Queen, BRITANNIA, rule the waves;
Eng. You, Britons, never, never should be knaves.
Chang. Here are two hearts in unison that throb.
Eng. Admittance to examine them, one bob.
Chang. The fulness of these hearts no hand can feel!
Eng. No stuffing this, like that you get in veal.
Chang. But oh, believe our feelings are sincere!
Eng. We're very glad indeed to see you here.
Chang. On you, ye forms of loveliness, we gaze,
Our souls entranced with rapturous amaze.

Eng. Ladies, the crowds that throng to see us two, In a great measure, are composed of you.

Chang. Those gently glowing cheeks and eyes of light
Gleam, oh how beautiful, and oh how bright!
He who would bask in Woman's sweetest smile,
Should, of all lands, repair to Britain's isle.

Eng. Young Abyssinian ladies can compare
With English in the way they dress their hair;
But you, in every other point, no doubt,
Cut them, and all your sex besides them, out.

Chang. But now, farewell! Ye Loves, like spirits_blest,
In dreams you'll hover o'er our nightly rest,
Of which the blissful time is drawing nigh.

Eng. I'm tired, and want my supper-so good bye.

NOTHING TO VOTE FOR.

WHAT harm is there in bribery
As you or anybody see?

If I can understand, blow me!

You calls my vote a trust-for who?

For them as votes theirselves? For you? Or only for the Residoo?

SMITH for a railway to his town,

For a mail-packet line votes BROWN,
Now I prefers the stumpy down.

My politics is Number One,
I votes for them as pays; or none-
Out of my vote must I be done?

If, forced to vote without my pay,
I tossed up to decide which way,
Would that be any better? Eh?

As good a reason why to vote,
As chance, for them in either boat,
I take it, is a ten-pun' note.

Of all the swells that talks so pure
Who wouldn't sell their votes, if sure
To fetch a jolly sinecure?

But since the judges of the land
Has took sitch a determined stand,
Between us and the open hand,

I now from votin' shall abstain,
As I consider, and complain,
A serf enfranchised hall in wain.

A Hint.

Two people have been badly hurt last week through slipping on pieces of orange-peel. Now the police haven't many people to arrest in the day-time, why don't they "take up "all the orange-peel they find on the footways? Besides they would then give an opportunity to an irreverent joker of calling them orange-peelers.

THE WAY OF THE WHIRLED.-The Rail-way.

A STORM IN A TEA-CUP.

THERE is now a war in print about the right to write books in which all the words shall be like these; that is to say, all short, for small folks. One of the soft sex is quite hard on some ones of the hard sex, and says that they have not kept faith with her as to some books which she said she would write, and which they have told two new scribes to do in this small way, for kids. It does not seem a great feat for any he or she, nor, as there is not a nice nurse who does not write out nice tales in this way for the dears in her charge, does the fight seem to be a grand one, and the rage of the dame makes Punch laugh in his snug way. She says that she has writ, or wants to write thus some books which she names, but how the juice she means to do it is a nut which we fail to crack, as one of the books is the Swiss Family Robinson, and one more is the Evenings at Home; but we guess that she will call the first the Swiss Kin of Sons of Bob, and the next Nights not spent Out of the House. Sure there is not much here that should make grown up folks snarl and scold; but we are glad of fun, and we thank our friend who prints the fight in his æsthetical hebdomadal publication, denominated the Athenæum.

A WAVE OF OUR BATON.

THE word Star rather crops up just now. There's MRS. STAR in the Convent Case, but we 've happily done with that, and can leave its lesson to soak into the minds of Priests, Women, and Families. Then there's the Transit of Venus, classically called a wandering Star, or planet. Then there's MISS STARR, the artist, for whose sake Mr. Punch writes this paragraph, to note that in a graceful and appreciative notice of some Art-works, in the Pall Mall Gazette, the critic " assumes that young lady to be a student," and for the moment forgets that she was a student, certainly, who took the Gold Medal for about as bold and fine a work as the Academy has often guerdoned. As Herald to the Nobility of Art, Punch, King-at-Arms, insists on having the procession to the temple of fame duly marshalled.

workhouse fare, the diet in our prisons may be looked upon as sumptuous; and there is very little doubt that, to many a pet prisoner, the palate. Clearly, then, our gaol-birds should be stuffed à la Française, nuisance of confinement is palliated greatly by the pleasures of the as poultry are at Vichy. Doubtless, now, their dinner is a comfort and a pleasure to them, and this would hardly be the case if it were forced into their gullets through a tube which utterly prevented them

THE TWO-YEAR OLD PLATE.

TALK about a hierarchy! What is that topic, gentlemen sporting-men, to the subject of Horse? Of how small importance is the Bill for the disestablishment and disendowment of the Irish Church compared to the question whether or no the Jockey Club shall legislate on the running of two-yearolds! Are these young race - horses overworked? So it appears. ADMIRAL ROUS says they are stumped up at five years old; a rousing announcement, surely, to all lovers of horseflesh, especially to those who love to discuss it, not only as a theme, but also as a dainty at dinner. For, though stumped up for the Turf, your two-year-old may still remain available for the Table, and if no longer fit to be entered for a plate, may, nevertheless, be very presentable in one,