Punch, or The London Charivari

of a Grandfather's Clock. It won't take us 'alf an hour now, at the rate we're going, to git round the turn, and then we shall be next the barrier, and 'ave a little more room. There, they're beginning to move a bit. (The line advances about a yard.) Now we're getting along beautiful!

A Purple-faced Old Gentleman (in a perspiration). It's scandalous! These people inside aren't attempting to move along. (To the inner rank.) Will you kindly pass on, and give others a chance? Do pass along there! (The people in the inner row maintain a bland unconsciousness, which is too much for his feelings.) D--n it! why can't you pass along when you're asked to?

The Usual Comic Cockney. It's no good torkin' perlitely to 'em, guv'nor; you touch some on 'em up with your umberella. Why, there's two old ladies aside o' me that 'ave gone and 'ipnotised theirselves starin' at silver kendlesticks!

A Plaintive Female (to a smart young constable).