Ah, it is cruel! Our beauty is decayed. The cheeks of my poor sister,
that once were so rosy, have lost their colour and our figures their
rounded grace.
We are loyal, Monsieur, and, though we are no longer pleasing to look
upon, we do not grudge our service. But we beg of you, kind M. Punch,
to procure for us a respite from our labours, that we may recover
something of our former lustre. Thus shall you merit the undying
gratitude and your countrymen regain the devoted services of what
were at one time three of France's fairest billiard-balls.
_Agreez, cher Monsieur, etc., etc._
* * * * *
[Illustration: _First Actor (in khaki, to second ditto)_. "HULLO, OLD
BOY--WORKING?"
_Second Actor_. "YES, OLD CHAP, AND HAIG HAS BOOKED ME FOR THE AUTUMN
TOO."]
* * * * *
THE FATAL EMBRACE.
"There is a good story of how at an election meeting in Cork
a few years ago, when he was a candidate, one of a crowd of
working women pushed her way into a brake from which he was
addressing a throng in the market square and suddenly put her
arm round his neck and killed him.
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