Decimals on Deck.

Irish Mate. "How manny iv ye down ther-re?!"
Voice from the Hold. "Three, Sor!"
Mate. "Thin Half iv ye come up here Immadiately!!"

More "Revenge for the Union."

Saxon Tourist (at Irish Railway Station). "What Time does the Half-Past Eleven Train Start, Paddy?"
Porter. "At Thrutty Minutes to Twilve—sharrup, Sor!"
Tourist retires up, discomfited.

The Ulster.

Schoolboy (to Brown, in his new great-coat). "Yah! Come out of it! D'you think I don't see yer!!"

"Silence is Golden."

Chatty Old Gent. "Have you Long Hours, he-ar, Portar?"
Railway Porter (whose Temper has been spoilt). "Same as anywheres else, I s'pose—Sixty Minutes!"——(Bell rings, Railway Porter touches up Old Gent's favourite corn, and rushes off!)
Old Gent. "Ph—o—o—o—o—!"

Barometrical.

Draper. "Light Summer Dress? Yes, M'm. Sold a great many the last few days, M'm, the Weather havin' risen from a French Merino to a Grenadine!"

A Family Man.

Cabby. "Vy, I'm a Father of a Fam'ly myself, Mum,—not so 'andsome as your little Dears, Mum, I don't say,—an' d'you think I'd go for to overcharge for 'em? Not I, Mum! Not a Sixpence, bless their little 'earts!" &c., &c.
Claim allowed.

Unconscionable.

Head of the Firm. "Want a Holiday!? Why, you've just been at Home Ill for a Month!"

A Narcotic.

Doctor. "Look here, Mrs. McCawdle. Don't give him any more Physic. A sound Sleep will do him more Good than Anything."
Gudewife. "E-h, Docthor, if we could only Get him tae the Kirk!!"

The Connoisseur.

Host (smacking his lips). "There, my Boy, What do you Think of that? I thought I'd give you a Treat. That's '34 Port, Sir!"
Guest. "Ah! and a very nice, sound Wine, I should say! I believe it's quite as Good as some I gave 37s. for the other Day."

Awful Warning!

Guest (at City Company Dinner.) "I'm uncommonly Hungry!"
Ancient Liveryman (with feeling). "Take Care, my dear Sir, for Goodness' Sake, take Care! D'you know it Happened to me at the last Lord Mayor's Dinner to Burn my Tongue with my first Spoonful of Clear Turtle; 'consequence was—(sighs)—'couldn't Taste at all—anything—for the rest of the Evening!!"

The Sausage Machine.

Cook (in a fluster). "O 'f y' please, 'm, no wonder the Flaviour o' them Sassengers wasn't to-rights, 'm, which I've jest now ketched Master Alfred a cuttin' his 'Cavendish' in the Machine!"

Just in Time.

Veteran Piscator. "Hech! but yon's a Muckle Fesh loupin' ahint me!"——(It was lucky he looked round!—his Friend from London had preferred Sketching on the Banks, had stumbled over a Boulder, and "Gone a Header" into a deep hole. He was gaffed at his last kick!)

Words and Weights.

Angler. "Deuced odd, Donald, I can't get a Fish over Seven Pounds, when they say Major Grant above us killed half a dozen last Week that turned Twenty Pounds apiece!"
Donald.