THE ASSAULT!!

Caricatured politicos of the day as Romans.THE ASSAULT!!

Man pulling carriage, boy on fence, convalescent in carriage.TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT.Tompkins(in a feeble voice, for the fourth or fifth time, with no result)."Chairman!!! Chairman!!!"That Awful Boy."Lydies and Gentlemen——!!"

Tompkins(in a feeble voice, for the fourth or fifth time, with no result)."Chairman!!! Chairman!!!"

That Awful Boy."Lydies and Gentlemen——!!"

By an Old "Crock."

(After reading the rattling verses of"Tis,"entitled"Good Luck!" in the "Granta.")

GoodoldGranta! They set the blood glowing,Your verse-grinder's galloping lines,There seems rare inspiration in Rowing!The Muse, who politely declinesTo patronise pessimist twitters,Has smiled on these stanzas, which smackOf health, honest zeal, foaming "bitters,"And vigour of brain and of back.Good luck to the Light Blues! That burdenBefits rattling rhymes from the Cam,Their "movement" might rouse a DameDurden,Or fire a cold victim of cram.Why it stirs up "old Crocks" to peruse 'em—Slashing lines on "a slashing octette"—They feel, though 'tis hard to "enthuse" 'em,Theremustbe some life in 'em yet.Old Crocks! Oh, exuberant younkers!You "guy" "the old gang" as "played out,"As fogies, and fussers, and funkers,You've over-much reason, no doubt.But, great Scott! as your rowing-rhymes rattleAnd lilt lyric praise of the Crews,We too sniff the air of the battle!We too have a Fit of the Blues.It's oh! just to "swing behindLewis,"A "youngster as strong as an ox"!Or be one who true Boss of the Crew is,—Your "pet Palinurus"—the Cox!To feel all the blood in one glowing,And—heedless of love, toil, and "tin"—Know naught in creation save—Rowing.Deems nothing worth much save—aWin!Five minutes, my boys, of such feeling,When rivals look beaten and blown,When the nose of your ship is just stealingAhead, when your muscles have grownTo thews, that—pro tem.—are Titanic,Are worth a whole year ofourlives,Whose waistbands are—well, Aldermanic,Who've wrinkles, and worries, and wives!Well, here's to the two tints of azure,The Dark Blue as well as the Light!At least there's one thing we can say sure,—There'll be no blue funk in their fight.And here's to the Bard of theGranta,Who sings without "side," "sniff," or "shop."May he live (if he wish it), to plant aBig bay on Parnassus's top!

Good luck to the Light Blues! That burdenBefits rattling rhymes from the Cam,Their "movement" might rouse a DameDurden,Or fire a cold victim of cram.Why it stirs up "old Crocks" to peruse 'em—Slashing lines on "a slashing octette"—They feel, though 'tis hard to "enthuse" 'em,Theremustbe some life in 'em yet.

Old Crocks! Oh, exuberant younkers!You "guy" "the old gang" as "played out,"As fogies, and fussers, and funkers,You've over-much reason, no doubt.But, great Scott! as your rowing-rhymes rattleAnd lilt lyric praise of the Crews,We too sniff the air of the battle!We too have a Fit of the Blues.

It's oh! just to "swing behindLewis,"A "youngster as strong as an ox"!Or be one who true Boss of the Crew is,—Your "pet Palinurus"—the Cox!To feel all the blood in one glowing,And—heedless of love, toil, and "tin"—Know naught in creation save—Rowing.Deems nothing worth much save—aWin!

Five minutes, my boys, of such feeling,When rivals look beaten and blown,When the nose of your ship is just stealingAhead, when your muscles have grownTo thews, that—pro tem.—are Titanic,Are worth a whole year ofourlives,Whose waistbands are—well, Aldermanic,Who've wrinkles, and worries, and wives!

Well, here's to the two tints of azure,The Dark Blue as well as the Light!At least there's one thing we can say sure,—There'll be no blue funk in their fight.And here's to the Bard of theGranta,Who sings without "side," "sniff," or "shop."May he live (if he wish it), to plant aBig bay on Parnassus's top!

Air—"Arrah! darlints, we can't do without ye!"

Ah!shure boys, the world has gone crazy,And there's plinty of throuble in shtore,Ivery mornin' I wake up onaisyBekase I can't shleep any more.'TwasCromwell, bad scran to 'im, done it,Him that murdhered KingCharles, ochone!And since the black villin begun itOuld Erin's done nothing but groan,And moan,It would soften the heart of a shtone.By the poker, I'm boilin' with passionWhin I think of the laws that they make;At a fair the bhoys heads ye can't smash in,Nor get dacently dhrunk at a wake.There's only twelve pince in a shillin',And not more than two pints in a quart,Onless you are cliver at fillin',And can make it hould more than it ought.Don't be caught,Or, be jabers, they'll make you pay for't.Where's the kings and the princes of ErinThat lived on purtaties and point,And niver saw year out and year inThe divil a taste of a joint?Thim toirants now buy all our bacon,And the linen, and butther, and that,All that grows in the counthry is takenFrom Antrim to Mullinavat.Poor PatHas to sell at a profut, that's flat.Well, honies, I'll give ye a hint,And let ivery one do it who can;When the bag of thirteens is all spint,Set up for a Parliament man.Thim's the boys that gets lashins of drinkin',And they dine wanst a week wid the Queen,Where the glasses are niver done clinkin',Wid the Royalties jokin' and spreein',Jubileein',And such doins as niver was seen.

By the poker, I'm boilin' with passionWhin I think of the laws that they make;At a fair the bhoys heads ye can't smash in,Nor get dacently dhrunk at a wake.There's only twelve pince in a shillin',And not more than two pints in a quart,Onless you are cliver at fillin',And can make it hould more than it ought.Don't be caught,Or, be jabers, they'll make you pay for't.

Where's the kings and the princes of ErinThat lived on purtaties and point,And niver saw year out and year inThe divil a taste of a joint?Thim toirants now buy all our bacon,And the linen, and butther, and that,All that grows in the counthry is takenFrom Antrim to Mullinavat.Poor PatHas to sell at a profut, that's flat.

Well, honies, I'll give ye a hint,And let ivery one do it who can;When the bag of thirteens is all spint,Set up for a Parliament man.Thim's the boys that gets lashins of drinkin',And they dine wanst a week wid the Queen,Where the glasses are niver done clinkin',Wid the Royalties jokin' and spreein',Jubileein',And such doins as niver was seen.

A Complaint and Simple Remedy.—Among the Requests in our ecclesiastical contemporary,The Guardian, recently appeared one asking for an effectual way of "“exterminating dry rot, and preventing its re-appearance in a church.”" Why doesn't the reverend inquirer try somebody else's Sermons? Or have no Sermons at all?

Nothingmore delights our old friend than to get hold of a real good word, and use it with effect. "I wish I knew what is going to win the Derby this year," observed her Niece. "Ah, my dear," replied her Aunt, "I might be able to tell you if I were a Vaccinator."

Best Day in the Week for making a Proposal of Marriage.—In London, Monday is the most appropriate, as being dedicated to the "Monday Pops."

Frustrated husband at bottom of stairwell.Mr. Moriarty."Look here, Ada, how much longer, for goodness' sake, are ye goin' to be Dressin' yourself?"Voice from the Heights."Only Ten Minutes, dear!"Mr. Moriarty."Well, all I can say is, if I've got to wait here Ten Minutes, I'll—I'll be off this Blessed Moment!"

Mr. Moriarty."Look here, Ada, how much longer, for goodness' sake, are ye goin' to be Dressin' yourself?"

Voice from the Heights."Only Ten Minutes, dear!"

Mr. Moriarty."Well, all I can say is, if I've got to wait here Ten Minutes, I'll—I'll be off this Blessed Moment!"

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

House of Commons, Monday, March 6.—"TheSpeakertook the Chair at three o'clock." That is an extract from theJournals of the House, a fascinating literary work, ably edited by Mr.Palgravewith the assistance of Mr.Milman, much in favour atMudie's. Last time I sawSpeakerrise from Chair was Banquet at Mansion House given by way of farewell toM. Waddington. Very remarkable scene it was. In ordinary timesSpeakerof House of Commons is personally unknown to outside public. He takes no part in debate; never goes on Midlothian Campaigns; belongs to no faction; has no political following; and should have no enemy. British public, regarding with close attention the fascinating arena at Westminster, have evidently formed clear opinion of its present President. When list of guests whomLord Mayordelighted to honour read out by Toastmaster, name ofSpeakerreceived with enthusiastic and prolonged applause. House of Commons men present, of whom there was large muster, evidently taken by surprise. They know theSpeaker, because they daily live with him. How outside public should have been seized with such keen appreciation of his worth was more than they were prepared for.

This may have been, probably was, to some extent asuccès d'estime. Mr.Peel'sspeech was genuine triumph; very brief, the shortest of the series, but incomparably the best; lofty in tone, perfect in delivery, saying just the right thing at the right moment in the right way. Its effect at Mansion House something like that which electrified House when Mr.Peel, standing on steps of Chair, faced it for first time as itsSpeaker, revealing, even to those who had known him long, the full depths of his nature and the towering height of his capacity.

"Mon Dieu,Tobee," said an eminent Frenchman, "the world in both hemispheres has always envied you the possession of your House of Commons. Now we know you have a Speaker worthy of its best traditions."

Banquet a great success; certainly the most brilliant galaxy of guests drawn together in same place since Mr.Phelps, the American Minister, said farewell in memorable speech. Much struck with completeness of arrangements. Even the waiters imbued with consciousness of great occasion.

"Hope you enjide your dinner, Sir?" said one to me, when dessert placed on table.

"Excellent," I said; "perhaps the whitebait done a little too much; showed tendency to present itself in fragments; but 'twas nothing."

"Yessir," said the Waiter, diligently brushing off imaginary crumbs. "I'm going now, Sir."

"Ah," I said; "then I suppose you don't wait to hear the speeches; flow of reason, you know, quite a treat."

"Yessir," said he, still pegging away at the spotless table-cloth. "Can I get you anything more, Sir?"

"No, thank you," I said, quite touched at the man's considerate attention, the more marked since, as far as I recognised him, I had not seen him before. "I've done excellently."

"Yessir. I'm going now." Hardly seemed able to part. Not sure whether, in circumstances of international amity, I shouldn't have shaken hands with him. Made half advance in that direction. He quickly advanced his hand, but after glance at my extended palm, as rapidly withdrew it. Perhaps he was right. Not usual to shake hands with Waiter, though really, on occasion like this, one might disregard conventionalities. Waiter lingeringly withdrew, still keeping his eye on me, as if expecting me to call him back. Nodded a friendly farewell, and pensively peeled an orange, thinking how one touch of nature makes us kin. This good Waiter and I quite subdued by the graceful, generous thought of Lord MayorKnill, who has added one more link to the chain that binds in amity two nations that have fought all the way from Cressy to Waterloo.

Business done.—Got into Committee on Navy Estimates. In the Lobby sort of rehearsal of new Battle of Boyne. The other nightSaundersonsaid something disrespectful of Irish Members.Willie Redmond, from his proud position among nobility and gentry above Gangway, called out, "You wouldn't say that in the Lobby." "Say it anywhere," responded the Colonel, ever ready to oblige.

Chaotic scene of large group of arguing politicians."SCENES IN THE LOBBY."Design for Our Own Historical Painter.

Design for Our Own Historical Painter.

Next day wrote letter toRedmond, incidentally mentioning that if he wanted to hear the words over again, should meet him in Lobby to-night after questions. Nothing nearerRedmond'sheart's desire. At five o'clock Colonel, accompanied by another military gentleman, carrying his cloak, a pair of pistols, a stiletto, a bottle ofeau de Cologne, a sponge, and a clothes-brush, sternly strode into Lobby. Carefully counted paces till he was standing as nearly as possible on centre tile; folded arms, and wished that Night orRedmondwould come. ColonelWaring, with military accoutrements and cloak; stood a pace and a half to the left rear. Presently enteredRedmond, accompanied by J. J.O'kelly, also carrying cloak. Secreted in folds were shillelagh, bottle of whiskey, pair of spurs, a toothpick, and a freshly-minted crown-piece. This last, at suitable moment, to be flung across Lobby; (friend secretly told off to be on alert to pick it up.) Action to be explained as typical of throwing King's Crown into the Boyne. The principals approaching,Redmond, after manner of schoolboys, who edge up to each other, each hoping the other doesn't want to fight, asked Colonel to "say it again." "Certainly; but say what?" Here difficulty began, which spoiled whole business.Redmondinsisted upon being called a murderer.Saundersonpunctilious on minor points, wouldn't go quite so far in his desire to oblige. Angry altercation followed; Members, to number of something like hundred, formed ring.Redmond, with right shoulder aggressively hoisted, spoke over it at the Colonel. Colonel stood erect, with hands loosely hanging by his side, ready for emergencies. Crowd grew thicker and more excited. "Expected every moment would be our next," asClancybreathlessly put it. But in the end storm blew itself out. Nothing happened, and crowd disappointedly dispersed.

Ulster will fight,But——not to-night.

Thursday.—Opposition mustered to-day in high spirits; meeting at Carlton yesterday addressed byMarkissand PrinceArthur; Grandolph,looking in, took back seat in his customary retiring fashion. Meeting insisted on his coming to the front; made spirited speech; scarcely a dry eye in the Club when, looking shyly across at PrinceArthur, he alluded to him as his "old political friend," his "brilliant and esteemed Parliamentary Leader."

"I think," said theMarkiss, as meeting dispersed, "this will drive nail in coffin of Home-Rule Bill, and make things pretty hot for Mr. G. AsHart Dykeepigrammatically puts it, 'We Unionists, above all others, should be united.'"

This, as I mentioned, happened yesterday. This afternoon Opposition mustered in anticipation of aggressive action by Mr. G. Had given notice to move suspension of Twelve o'Clock Rule, in order to make progress with Estimates.

"Not if we know it," said Right Hon.James Lowther, commonly called"Jemmie."

Mr. G., previous to moving Resolution, explained there was no intention of sitting late; Suspension Standing Order was matter of precaution designed to prevent arbitrary carrying over of Amendments when adequately discussed. PrinceArthur'skeen eye discerned that this might be so construed as to convey no advantage to Government. When twelve o'clock came Debate might be diverged on to lines of wrangle round Question of Adjournment, and so House up and nothing done. On this understanding he declared he would not resist Motion of Leader of House. ThenJemmie, rushing to the front, made the running. Did Mr. G. intend, in any case, to take Second Reading of Home-Rule Bill on Thursday next? Mr. G. nodded assent. "Very well, then I'll divide against you,"Jemmieroared across the pained figure of his esteemed Leader. Not to be moved by blandishment or argument from this position. PrinceArthur, seeing matters hopeless, haughtily strode forth,Grandolphloyally accompanying him. But more than half his old colleagues stayed behind withJemmie Lowtherwho got Opposition soundly beaten by majority of 85.

"There's only one thing we want to run our majority over 100," saidSquire of Malwood, smiling beneficently from Treasury Bench. "Another meeting of the Party at the Carlton Club will do it."

"What did you mean by to-night's performance?" I askedJemmie, later.

"Mean? I meant business. I'm a little tired of lurking in background seeing men come to front who haven't half my ability, political acumen, or Parliamentary knowledge. I intend to have a Party of my own. There has been a Fourth Party, and before that there was a Tea-room Party, and a Cave of Adullam. I shall eclipse them all."

"And under what name do you think history will know your faction?" I asked, much interested.

The Right Hon. took up a piece of paper, and on it wrote the words,"Lowther's Arcade."

Business done.—Wolmer'sAmendment on the Navy Estimates negatived.

Caricatured politicians shaking hands."GREAT EXPECTATIONS."["As persistent attempts are being made to show that Mr.Balfourand Mr.Chamberlainare at variance respecting the tactics which should be adopted by the Unionist Party in Opposition, we may state that more thorough accord never existed than at the present moment."—The Times, March 8, 1893.]Gargery Chamberlain."You know,Pip, as you and me were ever the best of Friends!"Balfour Pip."DearJo!"

["As persistent attempts are being made to show that Mr.Balfourand Mr.Chamberlainare at variance respecting the tactics which should be adopted by the Unionist Party in Opposition, we may state that more thorough accord never existed than at the present moment."—The Times, March 8, 1893.]

Gargery Chamberlain."You know,Pip, as you and me were ever the best of Friends!"

Balfour Pip."DearJo!"

Friday.—PrinceArthur, and Statesman to whomAusten Chamberlaindistantly alludes as "My Right Hon. friend," sit separated by width of House. But, in assaults on Government, they are not divided. Idle stories about differences of opinion arising between them quite unnecessarily denied.

"I never look at them," saidTrevelyan, "without recalling to mind a passage in what is, I think, my favourite amongDickens'snovels. You remember the scene inGreat Expectations, whereJoe GargeryvisitsPip, in his day of prosperity, in London? 'Ever best of friends,' saysJoe (Chamberlain). 'DearJoe,' says PrinceArthur. 'You know,Pip,' saysJoe, 'as you and me were ever friends, and it were looked forrerd to betwixt us as bein' calc'lated to lead to larks.'"

The expectation not lacking of past fulfilment; full of promise in days near at hand.

Business done.—Sat from two to seven discussing whether we shall sit to-morrow in order to make progress with public business. Finally decided we shall. Meanwhile, morning sitting slipped away.

Vino Italiano Con Temperanza.—SignorVitali, of the Italian-Wine-in-England Mission, writes to us to say that SirWilfrid Lawsonmight temper his favourite beverage ofAqua Purawith half a gallon flask ofVinum Purum Italianum, such as Chianti, and he would be none the worse for it. We are inclined to agree with the SignorVitali, as, in our opinion, there is small likelihood of any Italian wine-drinker "getting any forrader." Of course SignorVitali, being somewhat interested in the matter, and therefore, most hopeful that his enterprise will result in orders for any number of flasks, and not end in an emptyfiasco, would not fail to point out that Italian wine is likely to have a prolonged existence in this country, as it is not lacking in Vitali-ty.

TONE AND TINT.—(By a Wearer of the Green.)

YourOrangeman swears—he's a terrible fellow!—They shan't set the Green o'er his favourite Yellow.His shout's "No surrender!" And is he so GreenAs to think we'll turn Yellow because of his spleen?No, no! He may vow in his last ditch he'll die,But—we're not to be scared by aHueand aCry!

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