Punch, Or The London Charivari

The Colonel (_wrathfully to his Rabbit, which will do nothing but run round and round him_). Stop that, will you, you little fool. Do you want to trip me up! Of all the dashed nonsense I ever--!

_Mrs. Bangs_. My! Colonel, you do seem to have got hold of a pretty insubordinate kind of a Rabbit, too!

The Colonel (_looking round_). Well, you aren't getting much pace out of your Tortoise either, if it comes to that!

_Mrs. Bangs_. He puts in most of his time in stoppages for rest and refreshment. I'm beginning to believe that old fable's a fraud. Anyway, it's my opinion this Tortoise isn't going to beat any hare--unless it's a jugged one.

Dick Gatling (_in front, as his Sheep halts to crop the turf in a leisurely manner_). We've not pulled up--only lying-to to take in supplies. We're going ahead directly. There, what did I tell you! Now she's tacking!

The Curate (_in the rear_). Poo' little Ja