PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 102.



January 9, 1892.




ON A NEW YEARLING.

(_SECOND WEEK._)

[Illustration: Second Week. Little 1892 grows rapidly, and begins to
look about him.]

My fire was low; my bills were high;
My sip of punch was in its ladle;
The clarion chimes were in the sky;
The nascent year was in its cradle.
In sober prose to tell my tale,
'Twas New Year's E'en, when, blind to danger,
All older-fashioned nurses hail
With joy "another little stranger."

The glass was in my hand--but, wait,