Surprisingly short comic today, with Willie Winks only dragged in at the last minute. I assume Willie Winks had some contract dispute that kept him off-stage much of the time. Here’s the transcription, including a use of ``round’’ in a meaning novel to me.
Top row, left: They are all dozing comfortably: the grate-fire, the coal-pail, the fire-tongs and three little jugs on the mantel-shelf.
Top row, center: In comes Mamma Winkie and puts Grandpa Winkie’s bottle of claret to warm for dinner. The fire wakes up at this and looks askance at the intruder; and the jugs peer around and commence to converse in whispers.
Top row, right: ``Just look at him - isn’t it awful? He’s an old alcoholist [sic] !‘’ says the green jug to the red jug. ``Yes, awful! I never use anything stronger than milk, myself,’’ replies the latter.
Bottom row, left: The fire, however, is no despiser of a good drop of alcohol - the more and purer the merrier! So he stretches out a greedy tongue of flame and licks the bottle. ``Pop!‘’ goes the cork: ``crack-snap’’ goes the poor bottle, and its life-blood, the good claret, round out!
Bottom row, center: ``Well, now! The stuff won’t burn at all,‘’ hisses the fire. The jugs hold their fat sides and shake with laughter, whilst the coal-pail reels around and coughs up coal and the tongs slides [sic] into the awful mess before the fireplace out of sheer delight at the fire’s discomfiture.
Bottom row, right: ``Now, isn’t it strange that the moment one’s back is turned that fire must cut up like that?‘’ exclais Mamma Winkie after she had mopped up the mess; and then she heaps damp ashes on the fire. Williewinks only says ``Hm!’’ and thinks it not so very strange, after all.