Costermongress

The educated Englishman and the educated Hindoo have a more glorious work before them than the interchange of “niggers” and “parallelograms,” like Daniel O’ Connell and the costermongress!

They were only a penny a pint, and the coarse big hand of the costermongress tossed a pile headlong and tail-long into a paper bag.

The dilapidated costermongress with the worried look on her face and the “Football Evening News” in her hand, walked up to the meat-stall, and began turning over the stray pieces of meat labelled, “All choice.” “Wodjer want nah, missus?” inquired the butcher. “Piece er beef,” responded the lady. “When you was ’agglin’ for the mutton ’arf an hour ago,” objected the man of meat, “yer told me as ’ow yer couldn’t eat beef!” “No more I carn’t!” snapped the costermongress. “But I reckon I shall want a bit all the same to put on a black eye. My ’usband went ’an blacked Chelsea this mornin’, an’ I see by the piper they lorst!”

Mr. Tuppy, who long has wanted to do something to live down his namesake’s inactivtion^([sic]), and he was put into an arm[-]chair, where he looked like a feather boa one minute and a costermongress’ discarded hat the next.