A PANTALOON AT HOME.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Volume II, Issue 98, 6 April 1864, Page 3

A PANTALOON AT HOME.

Alf Jones, the pantaloon, was as much pantaloon in private life as he was on the boards. We remember a bit of domestic pantomime in which he was the chief actor, which beats all the Christmas " comic business" we ever saw. Alf was in the habit, after the performance at the theatre, of going to a shop in the neighbourhood to buy a bit of something to take home with him for supper. His wife usually went to bed, but always left a fire in the grate for her husband to cook by. One night Alf was attracted by a variety of nice-looking meats in the shop-window of a French cook near Leicester Square. There were all kinds of brawn, and rolled turkey, and potted head, and so forth ; but what took Alf's fancy most was a slab of succu-lent-looking meat, covered with rich brown jelly. Alf did not know the name of it, but he went into the shop, and pointing to the tempting brown slab with his forefinger, said, " I'll take half a pound of that." The man weighed half a pound, and wrapped it up in paper, and Alf had to pay a shilling for it "It's dear," thought Alf, "but it's tastylooking stuff, and I'll have a treat foroncc." Alf went home rejoicing, and found as usual, the missus gone to bed ; but a little bit of fire was left for him in the grate. He took down the gridiron, wiped away the flavour of the morning's herring, and put on his meat to cook. "Now," said Alf, "I'll go and fetch my beer while it's doing." So he took down the jug, whipped to the corner for the beer and was back in a twinkling. " Halloa !" cried Alf, 8S he rushed to the fire to turn his meat, " What's up now ? Gone, by Jove !" Gone it was, clean gone,and not a vestige of it remained. " It's the missus," said Alf. He opened the bedroom door and peeped in, but the missus was fast asleep. " It's the cat," said Alf, il I know it's the cat," and with that he began to rout under the tables and chairs with the hearth-broom, and at length unearthing |poor puss, banged her with the broom all round the room, until she had scarcely oae of her nine lives left in her. Having thus avenged himself, Alf drank his beer and went to bed without his supper Ifext night, on coming home from the theatre, Alf said to himself, 4i I shan't be disappointed to-night; I'll get some more of that stuff, and I'll take precious good care the cat don't get it this time." So he went into the shop, and pointing vith his forefinger to a fresh slab of the browL meat, said, " I'll take another half-pound of tha s " He h»d another half-pound accordingly, aid went home, and as usual, found the missus h bed asleep, and a bit of fire burning in the frontroom. Alf routed about for the cat, and havinr found her and locked her up in the coal cupbo.rd, put his meat on the gridiron over the fire, am went out for his beer in security. But, lo and ehold! on his return the meat was : gone again! " It's the missus," said Alf, em-:

phaticallv ; " now I knoT it; now I'm sure o it." And with that he pulled open the door and rushed iuto the bedroom. The partner of his bosom was fast asleep and snoring, or apparently so. "It won't do, missus," said Alf; " this is the second time you've done it. Oh! it's no use your pretending to be asleep. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you ought; as if I hadn't enough of such pantomimic tricks at the theatre, without coming home to be made a pantaloon of. Give me up my meat, ma'am." And with that Alf seized the partner of his joys by the irill of her nightgown, and shook her. " Thieves ! murder !" cried Mrs. Alf, waking up in alarm. 11 Hush ! hold your tongue," said Alf; " you'll wake the house." " What are you up to ?" says the missus, seeing who it was. "What are you up to?" says Alf; "where's my piece of meat ?" " Alf," says the missus, " you're going off your nut." " No, I ain't," says Alf; " where's my piece of meat." " What do I know about it ?" she says. '• Do you mean to say you haven't took it ?" said Alf. " Took it ?" she says, " No." " Say, s' help your bob you haven't." "S'heip me bob! Alf—there." " Well, I'm bothered," says Alf, " If this doesn't beat cock-fighting! The house is enchanted, that's my belief." And once more Alf had to go to bed without his supper. Next night he determined that he should bring in his beer first, and then put the meat down to cook, and sit and watch it until it was done. So he called again at the cook-shop, and asked for another " half-pound of that." " You see," said Alf, " I had an accident with it last night, and the night before, too. Can't think who did it; but when I had put it on the gridiron and turned my back " u Gridiron!" said the man.' " Gridiron," repeated Alf. "Ha! ha ! ha!" laughed the man; " put it on the gridiron ! Ha ! ha! ha !" u What are you laughing at ?" asked Alf. " Why," said the man, "It was—it was—ha! ha!" " What ?" demanded Alf, angrily. "Soup," said the man. "Mock turtle! Ha! ha! ha !"—Comical Fellows.