Punch, Or The London Charivari

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!

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QUEER QUERIES.--COMBUSTIBLES.--I have five hundred barrels of Kerosene Oil, and three hundred of Paraffin, stored in a large room in the basement of my premises. Upstairs, on the top floor, there are about two hundred assistants at work. I now want to use part of the same room for the manufacture of fireworks. The place I don't think is too dark, as I have it constantly lighted by naked gas-jets. Would there be any need to take out a licence? The surrounding property, although very crowded, is only of a poor description.--INSURED.

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MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

(_CONDENSED AND REVISED VERSION BY MR. P.'S OWN HARM