PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 103. December 17th, 1892. [Illustration: THE WILD WILD EAST. _First Coster. _ "SAY, BILL, 'OW D'YER LIKE MY NEW KICKSEYS? GOOD FIT, EH?" _Second Coster. _ "FIT! THEY AIN'T NO _FIT_. THEY'RE A _HAPERPLICTICK STROKE!_"] * * * * * MIXED NOTIONS. No. 1. --BI-METALLISM. SCENE--_A Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train to London. Thereare four Passengers, two of whom are well-informed men, while the thirdis an inquirer, and the fourth an average man. They travel up to Londontogether every morning by the same train. The two_ Well-informed Men_and the_ Average Man _are City men; the_ Inquirer _is a youngSolicitor. They have just finished reading their morning papers, and arenow ready to impart or receive knowledge. _ _Inquirer. _ They don't seem to be making much of this MonetaryConference in Brussels. _First Well-informed Man. _ Of course they're not. I knew how it would befrom the start. I met HARCOURT some time ago, and told him what Ithought about it. "You mark my words, " I said, "the whole blessed thingwill be a failure. You haven't sent out the right men, and they'recertain to waste their time in useless academic discussions. " He seemedsurprised, but he hadn't got a word to say. _Inquirer_ (_deeply impressed_). Ah! _First W. I. M. _ The thing's really as simple as A B C. Here are we, acountry with a gold standard, and we find that gold has appreciated. What's the consequence? Why, silver goes down everyday, and commerce isdislocated, --absolutely dislocated. All we have to do is to---- _Second W. I. M. _ (_breaking in_). One moment! When you say gold hasappreciated, you mean, of course, that the purchasing power of gold hasincreased--in other words, commodities are cheaper. Isn't that so? _First W. I. M. _ Yes. Well, what then? _Second W. I. M. _ What's your remedy? Do you think you can make thingsbetter by fixing a ratio between gold and silver? In the first place, you can't do it; they've got nothing to do with one another. _First W. I. M. _ (_triumphantly_). Haven't they? What have you got tosay, then, about the Indian rupee? That's where the whole of yourbeautiful system comes to grief. You can't deny that. _Second W. I. M. _ The Indian rupee has got nothing to do with it. Mytheory is, that it's all due to the American coinage of silver, and(_vaguely_), if we do the same as they, why, we shall only make thingsworse. No, no, my boy, you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, there. Look at the Bland Bill. Do you want to have that kind of thing inEngland? _Inquirer. _ God forbid! By the way, what was the Bland Bill? _Second W. I. M. _ _What!_ you don't know what the Bland Bill was? Don'tyou remember it? It provided that a certain amount of silver was to becoined every year, and the Treasury was to hold the surplus until itreached a certain value, and then, --but every schoolboy knows whathappened. _Average Man. _ What did happen, as a matter of fact? _Second W. I. M. _ (_scornfully_). Why, the market was flooded. _First W. I. M. _ Yes, and that exactly proves my point. Make fifteen theratio between gold and silver, and you'll never have the market floodedagain. _Second W. I. M. _ (_hotly_). How do you make that out? _First W. I. M. _ It's as plain as a pikestaff. Make silver your legaltender for large amounts in this country, and you stop all these UnitedStates games at one blow. _Second W. I. M. _ Fiddlesticks! I suppose you'll want us to believe nextthat if we become bi-metallists, corn and everything else will go up invalue? _First W. I. M. _ Of course it will. We've only got to get Germany andFrance, and the rest of them to come in, and the thing's as good asdone. What I say is, adopt bi-metallism, and you relieve trade andagriculture, and everything else. _A. M. _ Do you mean we shall have to pay more for everything? _First W. I. M. _ No, of course not; I mean that the appreciation of goldis a calamity which we've got to get rid of. _A. M. _ I don't see it. If my sovereign buys more than it did years ago, that seems to be a bit of a catch for me, don't it? _First W. I. M. _ Ah, I daresay you think so, but you're wrong. If youfix a ratio, things may be dearer, but you'll have twice as muchpurchasing power. _Inquirer_ (_anxiously_). How do you fix a ratio? _Second W. I. M. _ Ah, that's the question! _First W. I. M. _ That's not my business. I say it ought to be fixed, andit's for the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Bank of England to doit. _Second W. I. M. _ (_decisively_). The Bank can't do it. Its Charterwon't allow it. _Inquirer. _ How's that? I never quite understood the Charter. _Second W. I. M. _ By the Charter the Bank has to---- [_But at this moment, the train having drawn up at a station, an intruder gets into the carriage. He is severely frowned upon, and the conversation, thus checked, is not resumed. _ _Inquirer_ (_getting out at terminus, to_ First W. I. M. ). I think I'vegot a pretty clear notion of Bi-metallism now, thanks to you. _First W. I. M. _ (_modestly_). Oh, it's quite simple, if you only takethe trouble to give your mind to it. * * * * * [Illustration: A Little Mixed. ] * * * * * _OUR_ "MISSING WORD COMPETITION. " _Guaranteed exempt from any Treasury prosecution under 1st Jingo, B. IV. Cap_ (_Fit_) 1, _sec_ (_Pommery_) '74. (_Heading, "Wish you may getit. "_) MR. PUNCH DESIRES TO CONVEY TO ALL, URBI ET ORBI, HIS VERY KINDEST . . . . . . . ANDBEST. . . . . . . FOR THE COMING CHRISTMAS, 1892. N. B. --_Coupons must be cut from the current number, and should be sentto_ SIR JOHN BRIDGE, _Bow-Street, E. C. , with shillings for the Poor Boxto same address. _ * * * * * THE QUEEN AND THE SONGSTRESS. --In consequence of Her Gracious MAJESTY'Smarked approbation of Miss PALLISER'S operatic performance at WindsorCastle, Sir DRURIOLANUS WINSORENSIS UBIQUITOSUS has serious thoughts ofasking the young cantatrice to change her name to Miss ROYAL PALLIS-ER;or, if she has the honour of singing "By Command" in London, to MissBUCKINGHAM PALLIS-ER. * * * * * "NEXT PLEASE!"--_My Brother's Out_--new work by Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON, Authoress of _A Sister's Sin_. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE WANDERING MINSTREL. " _Jem Baggs_ (_"The Wandering Minstrel"_). "THEY MAY SAY WHAT THEY LIKE AGIN THE COUNTY COUNCIL; _I_ SAYS THEY'RE JOLLY GOOD FELLERS. "] * * * * * [Illustration: MISPLACED QUOTATIONS. _Young Jones_ (_who, five minutes before the announcement of Dinner, has been introduced to Miss Sprightly, and has been endeavouring to find a fitting remark wherewith to open the conversation. _) "THIS--ER--I BELIEVE IS CALLED THE--ER--_'MAUVAIS QUART D'HEURE'!_"] * * * * * "THE WANDERING MINSTREL. " (_Modern Kensington Version. _) [The London County Council has declined to co-operate with the Kensington Vestry in a representation to the Home Secretary for more efficient control over itinerant musicians, street-cries, and similar nuisances, on the ground that though the Council has power to make bye-laws for this object, there are no means of enforcing them. ] SCENE--_Highly respectable Terrace in Kensington. The exterior of_ MR. TAMBOUR'S _house. Enter_ JEM BAGGS (R. H. ) _playing the clarinet badly. _ _Jem B. _ (_loq. _) Vell now! that's vot I calls wery tidy vork!Bob and a tanner for seven doors ain't none so dusty, blow me!Summat better this 'ere than orkin' "'All the new and popilar songsof the day for a penny!" Vot miserable vork that vos to be sure! I vosallays a cryin' about the streets, "Here y' are--one 'undered and fiftyon 'em pootily bound in a Monster Song Book for a penny!--Here's'_Ran-ta-rar-roopy-ay!'--'Mary, they 'ave raised my Screw'--'Sling yer'ook, yer 've got no oof, John. '--'Snide Sammy courted Sally Brown'--'Onthe Banks of the yaller Lea. '--'Chummies! Chummies!'--'FannyTooney'--'The Man who ran the Muglumberer's Building Society'--'DandyDan, the Whelk Man, and 'is Donah'--'He vos famed for garglingFizz'--'His there a Lip vot never Lapped?'--'A Life on theLotion-Lay'--'If I 'ad a Monkey on, vouldn't I go!'--'Down to the Derbyvith a Shallow and a Moke'--'Oh, say not Modern Art is Sold'_--for thesmall charge of a penny!" I dessay I might ha' been at that therecallin' to this werry day, if it hadn't been for BOSKY BILL. I shallnever forget BOSKY BILL'S a-sayin' to me--says he, "I say, JEM BAGGS, vydon't yer take to the singin' line?" "Cos I sings vorser than 'The BigBounce, '" says I. "Vorser!" says he, "Vhy so much the betterer!" "Woiceain't vanted, " says he, "only leather and brass. Leather for yer lungs, and brass for yer face, and there yer are, in the 'Alls or out on 'em. ""But 'ow about them Bye-Laws, BILLY?" says I. "Bye-Laws be bust!" sayshe, scornful. "_Who's to henforce 'em?_ Westries and County Councilscan't. Bobbies--bless 'em!--_von't_, " says he. "So there yer are, JEMBAGGS!" In course I tvigged. Vith my woice _and_ a vistle, sez I, they'll villingly give a tanner to git rid of me! And they _do_! Oh, _I_know the walley of peace and qvietness, and never moves hon hundersixpence! (_Looking up at the house. _) But I know as there's a hartistcovey lives 'ere. Notice-plate says, "Mister TAMBOUR is _hout_. " Valker!I know vot that means. I thinks as how he'll run to a shilling. Anyhow, I'll kick him for a bob. [_He strikes up, taking care to make as much noise at possible. _ 'Tis hof a great Council in London doth dvell; Jest vot they are arter 'tvould floor me to tell. They're qvite a young body--not seving years old-- But they've spent a large fortin in silver and go-o-old. Singing, Ills ve vill cure all on the Sosherlist lay. As the Council vere a sitting in their Chamber von day, The Westry come to them, and thus it did say:-- "Ve're off to the Home Sec. , street shindies to stay, So put on your toppers, and come vith hus, pray!" Singing, &c. "Nay, Westry, " said the Council, "your vish is declined, To co-operate (at present) ve can't make up our mind; Our Bye-Laws the Bobbies von't enforce. 'Tis a bore! But the Public must bear it just a year or two more!" Singing, &c. "Go to, County Council!" that Westry replied, "You svagger no end, and put on lots of side; But vhen plain reform 'tis our vish to begin, By _your_ aid ve don't benefit not von single pin!" Singing, &c. [_His melodious flow is interrupted by a violent rapping at the window, and the sudden opening of the street-door. _ _Jem Baggs_ (_loq. _) Aha! I knew they couldn't stand that werry long. Out comes the sarvint vith tuppence or thruppence, and a horder for meto "move on. " Valker! There ain't no Bobby in sight, and I shan't shiftunder a shilling. Vell, they may say vot they likes agin the CountyCouncil; _I_ says they're jolly good fellers, and I'll drink theirbloomin' 'ealth out o' that hartist cove's bob, ven I gets it. [_Tunesup again. _ * * * * * [Illustration: "À la Cocotte?"] AT A VEGETARIAN RESTAURANT. SCENE--_"The Nebuchadnezzar's Head, " in the City. Time--The luncheonhour. The interior, which is bright, and tastefully arranged, is crowdedwith the graminivorous of both sexes. Clerks of a literary turn devour"The Fortnightly" and porridge alternately, or discuss the comparativemerits of modern writers. Lady-clerks lunch sumptuously and economicallyon tea and baked ginger-pudding. Trim Waitresses move about with a sweetbut slightly mystic benignity, as conscious of conducting a dieteticmission to the dyspeptic. _ _A Vegetarian Fiancé_ (_who has met his betrothed by appointment, and isinitiating her into the mysteries_). I wish you'd take something morethan a mustard-and-cress roll, though, LOUISE--it gives you such a poor_idea_ of the thing. (_With honest pride. _) You just see me put awaythis plate of porridge. At the "Young Daniel, " where I usually lunch, they give you twice the quantity of stuff they do here. _Louise_ (_admiringly_). I'm so glad I've seen you lunch. Now I shall beable to fancy every day exactly what you are having. _Her Fiancé_ (_to assist her imagination_). Mind you, I don't _always_have porridge. Sometimes it's mushroom croquettes, or turnip and onionrissoles, --whatever's going. Now yesterday, for instance, I had---- [_He details exactly what he had, and she listens to these moving episodes with the rapt interest of a Desdemona. _ _First Literary Clerk. _ No; but look here, you don't take my _point_. I'm not running down SWINBURNE--all I'm arguing is, he couldn't havewritten some of the things BROWNING did. _Second L. C. _ Of course not--when BROWNING had written them--_that's_nothing against him. _First L. C. _ (_warmly_). I'm not saying it _is_. I'm telling you thedifference between the two men--now BROWNING, he makes you _think_! _Second L. C. _ He never made _me_ think, that's all _I_ know. _Third L. C. _ Nor yet me. Now, 'ERBERT SPENCER, he _does_ make youthink, if you like! _First L. C. _ Now you're getting on to something else. The grand fault Ifind with SWINBURNE, is---- _Second L. C. _ Hold hard a bit. Have you read him? _Third L. C. _ Yes, let's 'ave that first. 'Ave you _read_ 'im? _First L. C. _ (_with dignity_). I've read as much of him as I care to. _Second L. C. _ (_aggressively_). What have you read of his? Name it. _First L. C. _ I've read his _Atlantis in Caledonia_, for one thing. _Second L. C. _ (_disappointed_). Well, you don't deny there's poetry in_that_, do you? _First L. C. _ I don't call it poetry in the sense I call WALT WHITMANpoetry--certainly not. _Second L. C. _ There you touch a wider question--there's no _rhyme_ inWHITMAN, to begin with. _First L. C. _ No more there is in MILTON; but I suppose you'll admit_he's_ a poet. [_And so on, until none of them is quite sure what he is arguing about exactly, though each feels he has got decidedly the best of it. _ _First Lady Clerk_ (_at adjoining table, to_ Second L. C. ). How excitedthose young men do get, to be sure. I do like to hear them taking upsuch intellectual subjects, though. Now, _my_ brothers talk of nothingbut horses, and music-halls, and football, and things like that. _Second L. C. _ (_pensively_). I expect it's the difference in food thataccounts for it. I don't think I _could_ care for a man that ate meat. Are you going to have another muffin, dear? _I_ am. _An Elderly Lady, with short hair and spectacles (to_ Waitress). Can youbring me some eggs? _Waitress. _ Certainly, Madam. How would you like them done--_à lacocotte?_ _The E. L. _ (_with severity_). Certainly _not_. You will serve them_respectably_ dressed, _if_ you please! _Waitress_ (_puzzled_). We can give you "Convent eggs" if you prefer it. _The E. L. _ I never encourage superstition--poach them. _Enter a_ Vegetarian Enthusiast, _with a_ Neophyte, _to whom he isplaying Amphitryon_. _The Veg. Enth. _ (_selecting a table with great care_). Always like tobe near the stove, and out of the draught. (_The prettiest Waitressapproaches, and greets him with a sacerdotal sweetness, as one of theFaith, while to the Neophyte--whom she detects, at a glance, as stillwithout the pale--she is severely tolerant. _) Now, what are _you_ goingto have? [_Passing him the bill of fare. _ _The Neoph. _ (_inspecting the document helplessly_). Well, really, er--Ithink I'd better follow _your_ lead. _The Veg. Enth. _ I generally begin with a plate of porridgemyself--clears the palate, y'know. _The Neoph. _ (_unpleasantly conscious that it wouldn't clear his_ ). I'mafraid that, at this time of day--to tell you the truth (_with desperatecandour_), I never _was_ a porridge lover. [_The_ Waitress _regards him sorrowfully. _ _The Veg. Enth. _ Pity! Wholesomest thing you can take. More sustenanceto the square inch in a pint of porridge than a leg of mutton. However(_tolerantly_), if you really won't, I can recommend the rice andprunes. _The Neoph. _ (_feebly_). I--I'd rather begin with something a littlemore---- _Waitress_ (_with a sad foreknowledge that she is casting pearls beforea swine_). We have "Flageolet Fritters and Cabbage, " or "Parsnip Piewith grilled Potatoes"--both very nice. _The Neoph. _ (_braving the unknown_). I'll have some ofthis--er--"Cinghalese Stew. " [_He awaits the result in trepidation. _ _Customer_ (_behind, dictating his bill_). "What have I had?" Let mesee. Braised turnip and bread sauce, fricassée of carrot and artichoke, tomato omelette, a jam roll, and a bottle of zoedone. [_The_ Waitress _makes out his voucher accordingly, and awards it to him, with a bright smile of approval and encouragement. _ _The Enth. V. _ (_who has overheard_). A most excellent selection! That'sa man, Sir, who knows how to _live_! Ha! here's my porridge. Will yougive me some brown sugar with it, please? And--(_to the_ N. )--there'syour stew--smells good, eh? _The Neoph. _ (_tasting it, and finding it a cunning compound of curriedbananas and chicory_). I--I like the _smell_--excellent indeed! [_He attacks the stew warily. _ _The Enth. Veg. _ (_disposing of his porridge_). There! Now I shall havesome lentils and spinach with parsley sauce, and a Welsh rarebit tofollow--and I think that will about do me. Will you--oh, you haven'tfinished your stew yet! By the way, what will you drink? I don't oftenindulge in champagne in the middle of the day; but it's my birthday--soI think we might venture on a bottle between us, eh? _The Neoph. _ (_in whom the Cinghalese Stew has excited a livelythirst_). By all means. I suppose you know the brands here? _The Veg. Enth. _ Only one brand--non-alcoholic, of course. ManufacturedI believe, from--ah--oranges. _The Neoph. _ Exactly so. After all, I'd just as soon have bottledale--if they keep it, that is. _The Veg. Enth. _ Any quantity of it. What shall it be? They've"Anti-Bass Beer, " or "Spruce Stout;" or perhaps you'd like to try their"Pennyroyal Porter?" I'm rather partial to it myself--capital tonic! _The Neoph. _ I--I've no doubt of it. On second thoughts, if you don'tmind, I'd rather have water. (_To himself. _) It doesn't _look_Vegetarian! _The Veg. Enth. _ (_more heartily than ever_). Just as you please, myboy. But you don't mean to say you've done! _The Neoph_ (_earnestly_). Indeed, I couldn't touch another morsel, really! _The Veg. Enth. _ I _thought_ that stew looked satisfying; that's whereit _is_, you see--a man can come here and get a thoroughly nutritiousand filling meal for the trifling sum of fourpence--and yet you meetpeople who tell you Vegetarianism is a mere passing fad! It's a forcethat's making itself increasingly felt--you must be conscious of thatyourself already? _The Neoph. _ (_politely_). Y-yes--but it's not at all unpleasant atpresent--really! _Enter a couple of_ Red-faced Customers _from the country, who seatthemselves. _ _First Redf. C. _ Well, I dunno how _you_ 're feelin'--but I feel as if Icould peck a bit. _Second Do. _ I can do wi' soom stokin' myself. Tidy soort of a placethis. 'Ere, Missy!--(_to one of the_ Waitresses, _who awaits hiscommands with angelic patience_) you may bring me and my friend a choompchop a-piece, not too mooch doon, and a sorsedger, wi' two pots o' stoutan' bitter--an' lo-ook sharp about it! [_Sensation--the_ Waitress _gives them, gently, but firmly, to understand that these coarse and carnivorous propensities must be indulged elsewhere; whereupon they depart, rebuked and abashed, as Scene closes. _ * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. THE Baron, on behalf of small Baronites, thanks Messrs. CASSELL & Co. For _Fairy Tales in Other Lands_, by JULIA GODDARD, as they are dear oldfriends with new faces. One of the Assistants in the Baronial Office says, that _The Coming ofFather Christmas_ is most exquisitely heralded by E. F. MANNING, in thedaintiest of books. 'Tis published by FREDERICK WARNE & Co. So if youwarne't to make a nice present, you know where to go and get it. If DEAN AND SON are "limited, " their stock is unlimited; and, all thingsconsidered as far as possible, the Baron's Chief Retainer opines thatthe picture-books from the Deanery of DEAN AND SON are still the best, and, in kind, the most varied for children. "Which nobody can Dean-y!"_The Little One's Own Wonderland_ is a delightful realm, wherein thevery little ones can wander with interest through coloured pictures andeasy fairy tales. Among the coloured picture series, the _Old MotherHubbard of_ 1793, with its contrast, _Old Mother Hubbard of To-day_, isvery amusing. J. S. FRY AND SONS send out through SELL'S Advertising Agency samples oftheir daintiest specialities in _bonbonnières_. Being issued by a SELL, one fears a take in; but as 'tis all good, the agency of SELL secures aSale. The chocolates are sure to go down with everyone. We all know what the sincerest form of flattery is, and certainly ourdear old pet, _Alice in Wonderland_, whose infinite variety time cannotstale, will gracefully acknowledge the intenseness of the complimentsconveyed in _Olga's Dream_, as written by NORLEY CHESTER, illustrated byMessrs. FURNISS AND MONTAGU (the illustrations will carry the book), andpublished by Messrs. SKEFFINGTON. It would be a preternaturally wisechild who could quite grasp some of the jokes and up-to-date allusions. However, the real original _Alice_ (_in Wonderland_, and _Through theLooking-glass_) with the great Master's, JOHN TENNIEL'S, illustrations, is still, as _Mr. Sam Weller_ said of the Governor, "paramount. " Light and airy are the _Soap Bubble Stories_ blown by FANNY BARRYthrough her pen-pipe. Wonder is that, in this advertising age, shedidn't dedicate them to PEARS. The Baron's Assistant has a word to say about the Diaries for this nextyear. If you want a useful Diary, the B. A. Would recommend the"Registered Back-loop Pocket Diary, " got up, like a sportsman, in thebest of leathers by JOHN WALKER & Co. , or, "as Friend JOHNNIE observes, "HENRY IRVING would say--"to put it briefly, 'WALKER--London. '" The Baron has recently received two books, not strictly speaking"Christmas Books, " though they are, _et cela va sans dire_, bookspublished at Christmas-tide, the one practical and parliamentary, theother philosophical and phenomenal; the former dedicated to the RightHonourable ARTHUR BALFOUR by LUCY, and the latter dedicated to LordHALIFAX by LILLY. Two prettier names for authors, or rather, to judge ofthe writers' sex by the sound of the names, for authoresses, could notwell be chosen. But authors masculine they are, the pair of them. Mr. W. S. LILLY is to be congratulated on his very taking title, _The GreatEnigma_, and all classes of readers will be glad to be informed that ithas nothing whatever to do with the Irish Question. If any readerexpects to find the Great Enigma solved by the LILLY who toils andspins, then he must not be surprised if the author says to him ineffect, "_Davus sum, non Oedipus. _" From _A Diary of the Salisbury Parliament_, by Mr. H. LUCY, anyone canquaff or sip, just as his thirst for Parliamentary knowledge may befeverish or moderate, but healthy. It is thoroughly interesting, mostamusing, and really valuable for reference withal. 'Tis written, too, inso impartial a spirit, that it would be difficult to gather from thesepages to which political Party the Diarist belongs, but for hisexuberant eulogy of the wonderful Grand Old Man. Mr. LUCY is theParliamentary PEPYS. The sketches are by an Old Parliamentary Hand, yclept HARRY FURNISS, and assist the reader unfamiliar with the House ofCommons to form a pretty accurate idea of the men who are, and of themen who were, and what they wear, and how they wear. [Illustration: A Reviewer. ] The most interesting part of JAMES PAYN'S latest novel, _A Stumble onthe Threshold_, to Cambridge men or Camford men (for in this story thenames are synonymous), will be the small-beer chronicle of small Collegelife in their University some thirty years ago. The slang phrases ofthat remote period are perhaps somewhat confused with those of a moremodern time, just as an old Dutch Master will introduce his own nativetown and the costume of his fellow-countrymen into a picturerepresenting some great Scriptural subject, thus bringing it, so tospeak, up to date, and giving us an artistic realisation of what may beconcisely termed "the historic present. " In the second volume (thisnovel is complete in two volumes) the sketches of river-life, includinga delightful one of the old lock-keeper, are refreshingly breezy. Thestory, slight in itself, is skilfully worked out; and the onlydisappointing part of it--that is, at least to the Baron's thinking--is, that the villain of the earlier part of the tale does not turn up againas the real culprit, though the Baron is certain that every reader mustexpect him to do so, and must feel quite sure that, in spite of theauthor's reticence on the subject, it was _he_ who really committed themurder, and escaped even the author's detection, unless, out of sheersoft-heartedness towards the puppets of his own creation, JAMES PAYNknowingly let him off at the last moment. The judicial portion of thenovel, including the scene in the Coroner's court, is just what wouldhave been expected from an impartial "J. P. " * * * * * A DEGREE BETTER. --The Degree of Doctor of Music is to be revived atCambridge. The duties will be to attend ailing Musicians and Composers. When appointed, the Doctor will go out to Monte Carlo, or thereabouts, to see how Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN is getting on. Sir ARTHUR will, ofcourse, regulate his conduct at the tables by the prescriptions of hisMedical Adviser. * * * * * MR. WAGGSTAFF AND HIS DOCTOR. --He was ordered by his Doctor to walk twomiles a day. "Can't do it in London, " was the patient's reply; "neverwalk more than one mile. But, " he said, brightening up, "I'll go toParis, as one mile there is equal to double the distance in England. How's that? I'll tell you. I do half a mile out, half a mile back: onemile; _et voilà two_!" * * * * * "LITTLE TICH" AND "COLLINS. "--The former, not the _Little Tich_ of DruryLane Pantomime, but Sir HENRY TICHBORNE, Bart. , has, for absence of mindand body, thus not fulfilling his duties as High Sheriff, been fined byMr. Justice COLLINS five hundred pounds--_quids pro quo_--unless he canshow some just cause or impediment. "He wants TICH-ing up a bit, "thought Mr. Justice, but he didn't say so. * * * * * REPORTS OF CRACKERS. --If among our old friend SPARAGNAPANE & Co. 'sCrackers there are any that will "go off" better than others it will bethose called _The True Lovers' Code Cosaques_. This is the latestaddition to the School-Board Education Code for the Christmas Holidays. * * * * * [Illustration: "SET A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF!" _Mrs. Brown_ (_a victim of secret social ambitions_). "OH, AS FOR POOR MRS. ROBINSON, _HER_ ONLY OBJECT IN LIFE IS TO DROP ALL HER OLD FRIENDS AND KNOW TITLED PEOPLE! ISN'T IT LOATHSOME AND SICKENING?" _Mrs. Jones_ (_who is consumed inwardly by just the same desire_). "YES, INDEED, IF IT'S TRUE! BUT WHAT MAKES YOU THINK SHE WANTS ANYTHING SO _UTTERLY_ DESPICABLE AND MEAN?" _Mrs. Brown_ (_naïvely_). "BECAUSE SHE WAS SO PRECIOUS HARD ON MRS. SMITH FOR TRYING TO KNOW LORD AND LADY SNOOKS!"] * * * * * "THE MISSING WORD. " (?) THIS is "The Maiden All Forlorn, " bowed down with burdens scarce to be borne, Waiting a blast on Hope's clarion horn, loud as the "Cock that crew in the morn. " Bucolic, wheat-crowned, she--_Micawber_ seems she, waiting for something to turn up--somehow. Poor Agriculture! Care's merciless vulture has harried her vitals, and furrowed her brow. All are her friends--so each talker pretends-- from CHAPLIN the cheery, to WINCHILSEA wise, And valorous MUNTZ, who the land-question shunts, and "goes the whole hog" for Protection and rise; With rollicking LOWTHER, who's no Malagrowther, but larkily hints that the look-out is mournful; And NETHERSOLE, rustic and most nubibustic, of law and of logic complacently scornful. Poor latter-day Ceres! Quidnuncs and their queries will hardly restore her her loved long-lost daughter, (Fair Profits) whom Pluto ("the Foreigner") stole. Vainly landlords and farmers breathe forth fire and slaughter At Free Trade--that Circe on whom they've no mercy, --and howl down the speeches of those she's enchanted. The one "Missing Word" may sound wholly absurd to cool sense, but to them 'tis the one thing that's wanted. HOARE's wrath fiercely waxes. Reduction of Taxes? Low Rents? More improvements in modes of production? Pooh! SAUNDERS and RILEY must be far more wily to get _him_ to yield to their Red Rad seduction. He stands midst his ruins (like MARIUS) making of faith in Protection an open confession. 'Tis Duties on Food will alone do us good, nought else can now cure "the prevailing depression. " The Missing Word! Maiden Forlorn, 'tis a poser you put to the country, the cliques, and the classes, The Landlord, The Farmer, the Labourer! Say they agree, what response may you hope from "the Masses. " Those tiresome "Consumers"? Old myths and new rumours are like the East wind, Maiden, mighty unfilling; Bucolic ideas and crude panaceas won't help you, though with them all Fad-dom is thrilling. Yes, Fads make strange bedfellows, WINCHILSEA tells us, in this far more wise than he's wholly aware of. But CHAPLIN-_cum_-WALSH cannot turn back time's tide. And _Punch_, who _all_ interests has to take care of, Must tell you in kindness, that only sheer blindness can say of Protection the true Missing Word it is, Though men, my poor Maiden, with worries o'erladen, will lend ear to Quackdom's most arrant absurdities! * * * * * Suggestions for New Musical Publications. A COMPANION to _The Stars of Normandy_, to be entitled, _The NorthPole-Star_ (the words by COLD-WETHERBY), to be sung by CHARLES VERYCHILLEY. If sung at St. James's Hall, admission generally, one shilling. Freeze-seats, nothing. "_The Carnival_" is announced, as "MOLLOY'S last hit. " We hope not. Wetrust that it is only Misther JAMES MOLLOY's _latest_ hit. "Never saydie!" As a companion to "_Come Dance the Romaika_, " will be published, "_ComeRead the Romeike_, " set up and composed by the Press Cutting Agency. * * * * * RATHER STARTLING. --A Correspondent sends us a cutting from a paper:-- "Mr. MOODY, the Evangelist, who was a passenger on the _Spree_, . . . Preached an able discourse. " She says, "I can read no more to-day. Mr. MOODY, as 'a passenger on the_Spree_, ' is too much for my feelings. " As _Joe_ said to _Pip_, "Whatlarks!" Yours truly, SHOCKED! * * * * * [Illustration: "THE MISSING WORD. " (?) ["The Agricultural Conference unhappily seems to have made up its mind to defy the recognised laws of economic science, instead of endeavouring to adapt their farming methods to them. The first of the two operative resolutions passed yesterday was an undisguised proposal for the re-adoption of Protection. "--_The Times. _]] * * * * * THE MAN WHO WOULD. IV. --THE MAN WHO WOULD BE A CRITIC. ST. BARBE, as a literary man and critic, always professed a desire tolive in a quiet neighbourhood. Therefore, as I approached his house, onthe almost inaccessible slopes of Campden Hill, I was amazed to see alarge and increasing crowd assembled in the vicinity. Pushing my waythrough, I saw that St. BARBE'S windows were broken, glass was in a weakminority in the panes, and, what was more singular, the breakage seemedto be done _from within_! Objects were flying out into the garden, andthose objects were books. I had the curiosity and agility to catch a fewas they fell, and to pick others up. They were mostly volumes of Poetry, and, in every case, they bore ST. BARBE'S name on the fly-leaf, with aflattering manuscript inscription by the author. Some of the authors'names were unknown to me; in others I recognised ladies of title whom Ihad read about in the Society Journals. Urging my way through a hot fireof octavos, I rang the bell. The maid who opened the door said, "You'renot an Interviewer, Sir?" "Great Heavens, no!" I replied. "It is lucky for you, Sir; he's got an air-gun, and winged twoInterviewers to-day, and shot one in the hat. " "I am a friend of Mr. ST. BARBE'S. " I explained, scarcely audible amidstthe yells of that man of letters. "He's awful bad to-day, Sir, assaulted a parcels-delivery man, who wastoo heavy for him. " So speaking, the maid led me to ST. BARBE'S study. He was now quiet, andonly groaning softly as he reposed on the sofa; the fragments offurniture and the torn letters which covered the floor, proved, however, that the crisis had been severe, for a man who likes a quietneighbourhood. I felt his pulse, injected morphine, and asked him how hedid? "Better, " said ST. BARBE, feebly. "I've been clearing them out. " "Clearing what out?" I asked. "Presentation copies of books, from the authors, " he said; and added, "and the devils of publishers. " At this moment the postman knocked, and the maid brought in some letterswith an air of anxiety. ST. BARBE tore the envelopes open, "There, and there, and there!" hecried, thrusting them into my hands, while his features bore a satanicexpression of hatred and contempt. As he seemed to wish it, I read his correspondence, while he absentlytwirled the poker in his hands, and gnashed his teeth. "What is the matter with you, old man?" I asked. "These notes seem to bevery modestly and properly expressed:-- "DEAR SIR, --You will be astonished at receiving a letter from a totalstranger; but the sympathy of our tastes, which I detect in all youwrite, induces me to send you my little work on _The Folk Lore of TavernSigns_. " Here ST. BARBE sat down on the hearth, and scattered ashes on his head, in a manner unbecoming an Englishman. "_I_ don't see what annoys you so, " I remarked, "or in this:-- "DEAR MR. ST. BARBE, --You will not remember me, but I met you once atLady CAERULEA SMITHFIELD'S, and therefore I take the liberty of sendingyou my little book of verses. " Here he rolled on the floor and gnawed the castor of a chair. I hadheard of things like this in the time of the PLANTAGENETS, but I neverexpected to see nowadays such ferocity of demeanour. "It is signed MARY MIDDLESEX, " I said. "She's very pretty, and aCountess, or something of that sort. What's the matter with you?" "Try the next, " he said. [Illustration: "Poor fellow! he is now under restraint. "] "MY DEAR SIR, --Being well aware of the interest you take in thefragments of DIONYSIUS SCYTOBRACHION, I have requested my publisher tosend you my little work on his _Quelle_. BOUNDER, as you are aware"----Here he pitched his clock into the mirror, and groaned audibly. I triedanother:-- "DEAR MR. ST. BARBE, --I know how busy you are, but you can always sparean hour or two for the work of a friend. My _Love well Lost_, in threevolumes, is on its way to you. I wish you to review it in all theperiodicals with which you are connected. Last time I wrote a novel, mynephew reviewed it, very perfunctorily, in the _Pandrosium_; this time Iwant only to be reviewed by my _friends_. " He was kicking on the sofa, and apparently trying to commit suicide with the pillows. "Command yourself, ST. BARBE, " I said; "this behaviour is unworthyeither of a Christian or a philosopher. These letters, which irritateyou so much, are conceived in a spirit of respectful admiration. Thebooks which you have been heaving through the window are, no doubt, ofinterest and value. " "Waste paper, every one of them, " he moaned. Then he added, as herumpled his hair in a frantic manner, "I'd like to see _you_, old cock, if you had to live this life! It isn't living, it's answering humbuggingletters, and opening brown-paper parcels, all day long, all the wearyday. And my temper, which was angelic, and my manners, which were themirror of courtesy, are irretrievably ruined. And my time is wasted, andmy stationer's bill is mere perdition. It begins in the morning; I tryto be calm; I sit down to write replies to all these pestilent idiots. " "Your admirers?" I said. "They're _not_ admirers; they only cadge for reviews. Time was, theysay, when critics were bribed. Ha! ha! _Now_ they all expect to bepraised for nothing. And the parcels of books they send. " Here I noticeda London Parcels Delivery van, laden with brown-paper packages of books. Quickly the maid rushed out, and induced the driver to remember that hewas a family man, and he went on his way without calling. "They come all day long, " my poor friend went on, "and all of them aretrash, rubbish that they shoot here; _shoot_, ha! ha'" and he took downa Winchester rifle, and crept stealthily to the window. Luckily none ofhis enemies were in view. "No waste-paper basket is big enough to hold them all, " he said, ruefully, "and once a week I make a clearance. The neighbours arebeginning to murmur, " he added, "There is no sympathy, in England, for aman of letters. Letters, indeed! I write them all day to theseimpostors, these amateurs;" and he bit a large piece out of a glass, which was standing handy. "Is there no way of escaping from this persecution?" I asked, withsympathy. "None--none! I have written to the _Times_; I have applied to theMagistrates; I have penned letters which might melt the heart of astone; I have even been unmannerly, I fear, now and then, for I cannot_always_ dissemble! No!" he cried, "I am doomed, -- 'Presentation copies sore Long time he bore'-- write that on my sepulchre. " Here he broke down, and wept like a child. Poor fellow! he is now underrestraint, and I expect soon to hear that we have lost ST. BARBE, atheart a kind, benevolent man, but sorely treated by authors. Such arethe dangers of a critical career, and so wearing are the facilities ofthe Parcels Post. Others may perish like him, men deserving of a betterfate. But to appeal to authors for mercy is vain, I know; far fromsympathising with taste and culture in distress, they actually complainthat they are harshly treated by critics. They little know what theythemselves inflict. * * * * * DIARY OF A STATESMAN. ("_Made in France. _") _Monday. _--Immense enthusiasm. The Ministry never so strong. When askedmy intentions, replied, "My intentions are the intentions of mycountry. " They nearly shook my hand off in their delight. Grand officialreception in the evening. Everyone there. All the Diplomatic bodyoffered congratulations. _Tuesday. _--Ministry suddenly threatened by an unseen danger. Everythinggoing smoothly, when someone in the back benches interrogated us aboutan open window in the corridors. Considering the question frivolous, declined to answer. Enormous excitement, all the Members shaking theirfists, and gesticulating. "Urgency" asked for. We protested; and, aftera heated debate, secured the passing to the Order of the Day _pur etsimple_ by a majority of two! Too close to be pleasant. _Wednesday. _--We have been defeated! The window incident was renewed. The Minister of Justice explained that it was the accidentalcarelessness of a Commissionnaire of Police. Although the man was brave, and crippled by a wound, the Chamber demanded his immediate dismissal. We protested. "Urgency" was voted by a majority of 343, and weimmediately resigned. Bore to have to pack up! _Thursday. _--Have refused to join no less than five combinations. Toodangerous. None of them seemed sufficiently stable. Six men have beentried, but at present without result. Well, if nothing is done byto-morrow morning, I shall go into the country for a little shooting. _Fido_ is quite ready--he has his coat out, his moustache curled, andcan carry a bag in his mouth. He is very good at tricks too. Altogethera thorough sporting dogue. _Friday. _--Back again. Others being unable to form a Cabinet, haveformed one myself. Think it will hold together, but one never knows. Sofar we have had an overwhelming vote of confidence. Put it to theMembers whether we might do what we pleased with the windows. "Yes, " and"Urgency" voted almost simultaneously. No doubt a veritable triumph! _Saturday. _--Everything went smoothly until the afternoon, when a Deputywished to know the correct time. Minister of Education gave it as aquarter to six. It was proved that he was wrong. He should have said tenminutes to the hour. Serious Ministerial crisis in consequence. Fearfulexcitement. A Bill brought in and passed legalising everything that fourmen and a boy might decide. Ministry forced to protest; turned out inconsequence. Base ingratitude; but a time will come! Generally hop inand out of office twice in a fortnight. Quite accustomed to it. Goodexercise. _Sunday. _--Released from my Ministerial duties. Shall have a day'sshooting with _Fido_ in consequence. But I must be back again to-night, because I am sure to be expected to form a New Ministry to-morrow! * * * * * _Query. _--Why cannot Mr. GLADSTONE eat more than two-thirds of a rabbit, whether boiled or curried? _Answer. _--It does not matter what Mr. GLADSTONE or anybody else can do, as nobody can eat _a rabbit (w)hole_. * * * * * [Illustration: KINDLY MEANT. "WHERE ARE YOU STAYING? I'LL CALL AND SEE YOU. " "DON'T! YOU'LL ONLY THINK THE WORSE OF ME WHEN YOU SEE MY SURROUNDINGS!" "OH, MY DEAR FELLOW, THAT'S _IMPOSSIBLE_, YOU KNOW!"] * * * * * "SMALL BY DEGREES, AND BEAUTIFULLY LESS. " DEAR MR. PUNCH, --I see that the authorities at Monte Carlo very properlyhave refused permission to Doctors, their wives and families, to visitthe tables of the Casino. I have not yet ascertained the reason for theprohibition, but no doubt it is because the "powers that be" considerPhysicians too valuable to the community to run the risk of endangeringtheir lives in the excitement of play. If we may accept this as a basis, we can see how the idea can be developed. If it is right to excludeDoctors, why then, as a kindred class, Lawyers should also be refusedadmission. Of course Clergymen of all denominations are, even now, conspicuous by their absence. If they are not, the decree of banishmentshould refer also to the wearers of the cloth. We have now got rid of Doctors, Lawyers, and Parsons--three of theProfessions. To be consistent, we must take the fourth. This willprevent Musicians from gambling. But if Musicians are tabooed, why notActors? And if Actors, why not Artists? And if we except Artists, wemust join Literature and Science, or there might be jealousy. And now wehave excluded Doctors, Lawyers, Parsons, Musicians, Actors, Artists, Authors, Men of Science, and everyone more or less connected with them. Now we must remember what is bad for the master must be equally bad forthe man. So if a Doctor is excluded, a Chemist, an Undertaker, and aGrave-digger would also be kept away. A Lawyer would carry with himJudges, Magistrates, Clerks, and Law Stationers. The Clergy wouldrepresent everyone connected with a church, from an Archbishop to aBell-ringer. Then, if we are to take away the Professions, Commerce mustfollow--wholesale and retail. In one blow we keep out of the roomsnearly the entire community. Still there are the Army, the Navy, and the Civil Service. But these areall more or less branches of the original class. They, like the Doctors, work for the public good. Without an Army and Navy and a Civil Service, how would the State exist? So they must go. And now we have very littleleft. We have lost the Doctors, the Clergy, the Lawyers, theContributors to Fine Arts, the Merchants, the Traders, and the Servantsof the Crown. Naturally the lower orders would follow the lead of theupper classes, and then there would be only the Croupiers left. And asthe Croupiers may not play themselves, and would have the play of no oneto superintend, they, too, might be excused, as their labour would be invain. And now having reduced the visitors of the tables to an unknownquantity, I may disappear myself. Yours retiringly, _Spanish Castle, Isle of Skye. _ AN EX-X. * * * * * A RUSH OF ONE. --The _Times_, a few days ago, alluding to the unemployedloafer, said, "it is he who flocks" to Relief Committees, and so forth. How delightful to be able to flock all by yourself! It recalls the bouldIrish soldier who "took six Frenchmen prisoners by surrounding them"? * * * * * THE GRAMMAR OF ART. --"Art, " spell it with a big or little "a, " can nevercome first in any well-educated person's ideas. "I am" must have theplace of honour; then "Thou Art!" so apostrophised, comes next. * * * * * [Illustration: ROYAL ACADEMICIANS AT MILLBANK. ("We understand that Millbank Prison, the site offered by Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT for the National Gallery of British Art, has been accepted by Mr. TATE. "--_Morning Papers. _)] * * * * * [Illustration: For Sail or Return. ] FROM PENCIL TO PEN. (_A Story of the Merry Yule-Tide Season. _) _Publisher's Sanctum. _ Publisher _and_ Author _discovered inconference_. _Publisher. _ And so I thought that, perhaps, with your kind assistance, we might work off some of the blocks that have been left on our handsunder the unfortunate circumstances I have just related. _Author. _ Certainly. Quite easy. You want to get a Christmas Number outof them. All right--give me the subjects, and I will just jot down howthey shall be worked in. We will commence--hero and heroine--say, forthe moment, _Edwin_ and _Angelina_. _Pub. _ (_looking at pictures_). I fancy this is intended for somewherein the neighbourhood of the North Pole. Sailors surrounded by whitebears on an iceberg. _Auth. _ Very good. _Edwin's_ father was an Arctic explorer. Write undersketch, "The old man had many a startling adventure in the silent landof eternal snow. " Go on. _Pub. _ Here is, seemingly, a quarrel to the death, in the time ofCHARLES THE SECOND. Ball-room, with Cavaliers and their Ladies. Centralgroup, a fight with swords. Can we do anything with it? _Auth. _ Why, certainly. _Edwin_ excites the jealousy of _Angelina's_cousin _Reginald_. The latter calls out the former at a fancy-dressdance. Label it--"_Captain de Courcy_ was too impatient to wait untilthe ball was over, but challenged his rival as the company were on theeve of going down to supper. " Drive on! _Pub. _ This seems rather a puzzle, --a ship sinking in mid-ocean. _Auth. _ The very thing. _Edwin_ having lost all his money on the StockExchange, goes to Australia for more gold. Label--"The storm wasterrific, and the _Belgravia_ had much difficulty in weathering thisgale of almost unprecedented violence". Next, please! _Pub. _ Why here are some sketches of Venice, St. Petersburg, China, andNorth Wales. _Auth. _ I can take them _en bloc_. _Edwin_ and _Angelina_, before theyreturn home, go upon a honeymoon. Work them all in. Anything else? _Pub. _ A man being shot by a company of French soldiers. Is that of anyuse? _Auth. _ First-rate fate for the wicked _Reginald_. Goes to France duringthe Franco-German War as a Special Correspondent, and is shot as aPrussian spy. Couldn't be better. Anything else? _Pub. _ A village crowd looking at a representation of "Punch and Judy. " _Auth. _ Obviously a recollection of _Edwin's_ schooldays. Labelit--"Sometimes he would join the crowd, watching an exhibition ofperambulating puppets. " Anything else? _Pub. _ A man being thrown from his horse into a brook. _Auth. _ All right! _Angelina_ first falls in love with _Edwin_ whennursing him after an accident in the hunting-field. Label it--"His horseswerved, and _Edwin_ was thrown with great violence into the water. "Anything else? _Pub. _ A man with a dark lantern looking, I think, at a mile-stone. _Auth. _ _Reginald_, before his death in France, tries to enterburglariously the dwelling-house of his hated rival. Label--"Themisguided wretch paused for a moment while he examined one of themile-stones. " Anything further? _Pub. _ Only two. Which shall we have, a happy or a wretched ending? _Auth. _ Either you please. One's as easy as the other. What are they? _Pub. _ First a man dying in the prairie is threatened by a vulture. _Auth. _ Evidently _Edwin_. You see, we have already disposed of thewicked cousin. What is the other? _Pub. _ Oh, the conventional thing--bridal party in a village church. Iwish we could use both. _Auth. _ So we can. Cut down bridal block, and punch out enough of sky inprairie to make room for it. Then give the legend, "And _Edwin_ diedhappily, for in his vision he saw his love once more as he had hoped tosee her. With his last breath he blessed her as she stood beside him atthe altar. " That will do, and then I can finish off with, "Who knowsthey may not meet again? THE END. " _Pub. _ And now I want to ask your opinion about some tradeadvertisements. I want to know if we can work them in? [_Scene closes in upon arrangements of a business-like character. _ * * * * * THE KISS. (_By a Jubilant Juryman. _) [Kissing the Book is now to be dispensed with as part of a Juryman's duties. ] LIP to lip is pleasant altogether, But there is no charm in lip to leather All the bards who've sung of osculation, Down from OVID to song's last sensation, Could not lend romance, or even sense, To the Court's poor labial pretence, Always meaningless, and most unpleasant. Here the past _is_ bettered by the present. Kissing is the due of Love and Beauty, Dull and dismal when 'tis made mere duty. Mere lip-loyalty to Love means little-- But to Truth? 'Tis not worth jot or tittle! When from lip to lip in cold formality Passed the grubby cover, in reality Binding kissing made no oath more binding Nor more easy Justice's clear finding. Therefore, thanks to common sense, --long missing-- That makes obsolete _one_ form of kissing! * * * * * "THERE AND BACK. " FIRST night at Covent Garden of new Opera, _Irmengarda_, by Chevalier, not Chevalier Coster, but Chevalier EMIL BACH. In this plot the women ofa besieged city are allowed to leave it, carrying whatever is mostprecious on their backs--but this one BACH can't carry _Irmengarda_, which is, however, not too, too precious, but is supportable. SirDRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS "gives a Back, " and it's "Over!" First Act, whileperforming, is promising; second very much after, or behind the first. House full. Everybody good, specially VALDA and ABRAMOFF. Mr. ARMBRUSTERconducted the MASCAGNI-_cum_-WAGNER-&-CO. Music. Everybody happy, specially BACH himself, who was not backwards in coming forwards, andbowing his acknowledgments. By the way, as in Act III. The King enters "a-riding a-riding, " thisOpera may be distinguished from any of BACH'S future works by beingcalled The Horse-BACH Opera. Not to exhaust the punning possibilities inthe name of the composer, it may be incidentally noted that, originaland fresh as every air in this Opera may be, yet this present workconsists entirely of "BACH Numbers. " No more on this subject at present. Last week of Opera by night at Covent Garden, as the Garden is turnedinto a Race-course for _The Prodigal Daughter's_ steeplechase, and DruryLane is wanted for the Pantomime. Sir DRURIOLANUS has his handsfull--likewise his pockets. "So mote it be!" * * * * * [Illustration] TO MY PARTNER. "MISS RED SASH"--my programme can't even relate Your name, and I know nothing more Of your tastes. Do you talk of high Art--or the state Of the floor? Has Girton or Newnham endeavoured to clog With stiffest of science your brain; Or are you prepared to discourse of the fog And the rain? Do politics please you? Uganda, perhaps, Or the Cabinet crisis in France? Or would you remark that a great many chaps Never dance? Is IBSEN your idol, with plays that are noise, Some say nauseous; is he a sage? Or are you contented to see a live horse On the stage? You love PADEREWSKI, and would not be false To your faith in BRAHMS, GRIEG, WAGNER and CO. ; or you are awfully pleased with this valse, And this Band? I'll fan you, and hear if you then will repeat Facts on currents of air, or simoom; Or simper, and smilingly speak of the heat Of the room. * * * * * A GOOD "SECOND". --A Dutch Oyster. * * * * * NOTICE--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS. , PrintedMatter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case bereturned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.