  (Compiled for the use of Orators during the Month of May Mouthings) Question. You are accustomed to take the chair at a public dinner? Answer. Yes. Or, to speak by the card, a dinner for the rest of the company. Q. Why, do you not partake of the good cheer before you with the rest of your convives? A. Certainly not. I have to speak later on—a consideration which entirely destroys my appetite. Q. Is there anything new to be said in the loyal toasts? A. No; and therefore it is better to return to the simplest form, which is sure to be received with heartfelt enthusiasm. Q. What can be said about the united service? A. That it is absolutely delightful to expend millions in the furtherance of their interests. Q. And can anything interesting be put in about the Houses of Parliament? A. Not much. Sneers at the Lords are no longer popular, and the Lower House is too respectable to be anything but a dull subject. Q. What about the toast of the evening? A. That must be left to the secretary, who will furnish the chairman with the necessary facts, which may be mixed with original remarks, two-thirds humorous to one-third pathetic. Q. How are the visitors to be treated? A. With fulsome eulogy or comic depreciation inspired by the pages of that excellent manual, Who's Who. Particular attention can be paid to the entries under "Recreations" in that admirable work, for appropriate chaff. Q. And in what terms does a chairman respond to the toast of his own health? A. In a few muttered words addressed to an audience composed of a gentleman fast asleep, the toast-master, and the waiters. Social Agonies Social Agonies.—"I say, old chap, it's short notice, but do come and dine this next Thursday!" "Can't, dear old man. I'm engaged three deep for the night!" "Oh, sorry! I've got the Duke and Duchess of Runnymede, and Lord Savory!" "Oh,"—(seeing it in quite a different light)—"next Thursday, did you say? I thought you said Thursday week. Oh, yes, I shall be delighted!" [Their Graces and Lord S. never turned up, after all!] REASSURING REASSURING"Lor' bless yer, sir, that's all right, sir! That ain't a fly, sir!—that's a bit of dirt!" BREAKING THE ICE BREAKING THE ICESprightly Lady. "Mr. Dormers, would you oblige me with——" Bashful Curate (who had scarcely spoken to his fair neighbour). "O, certainly. What shall I have the pleasure to offer?——" Lady. "—— a remark!!" The Connoisseur 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." A Gentle Snub,br /> A Gentle Snub.—"Here, waiter—quick! Something to eat—and look sharp!" "Yessir. What'll you 'ave, sir?" "Oh—anything—I don't care. Chop or steak—whatever you like." "You must excuse me, sir; but I don't feel called upon to decide!" THE WAY WE LIVE NOW THE WAY WE LIVE NOWTime—3 p.m.Scene—Club. First Gilded Youth. "Had any breakfast, old chappie?" Second Gilded Youth. "Yes. Had an egg beaten up at twelve." First Gilded Youth (in admiration). "Doose you did! What a constitution you must have!" THE FIRST ASPARAGUS OF THE SEASON THE FIRST ASPARAGUS OF THE SEASONFarmer (at market dinner). "Wull, gen'elmen, I dunno wot be the c'rect way o' servin' these 'ere, but I gen'elly eats just the ends of 'em myself!" [Helps himself to the tops!] THE GENIAL SEASON THE GENIAL SEASONHungry-looking Acquaintance (with eye to invitation). "So glad to see you enjoying yourself!" Fat Chap (evidently doing well). "Wrong again, old man. I'm enjoying my dinner!" |
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