Charles Hunt Marshall

“ O. H. Individual.—Why, can’t yer ’ear that already ’e tootles a bit on the flute; but by the end of the season it’ll be a case of trombone with ’im, an’ no mistake.
“WHEN THE DEVIL WAS SICK THE DEVIL A MONK WOULD BE,” &c.
Whip (who has come a severe cropper) .—Well, I’ll be—— (hesitates; wonders whether he’s mortally damaged; finds he’s all sound and right) —
D——d! ”

“ Hiver sin’ oi lent ’er to a Chap to roide at th’ Easter Munoovers, she’s bin that howdacious an’ waliant oi can do nought with ’er. She weant ploo, an’ she kicks t’ pieces ivery blooming Cart she’s put to; an’ noo she weant do Soldiering unless she’s fust. ”