ROBERT TRIHUMFUNT!

"Be those words our sign of parting!" criedDunraven, swift upstarting;"Sweating's an accursed system, but if now our toil is o'er,We leave twaddle as sole token of the swelling words we've spoken.Public faith in us is broken! Bah! I quit, I "bust", boil o'er!Take my seat, sign your Report, about such bosh my spirit bore?"QuothDunraven, "Nevermore!"

"Be those words our sign of parting!" criedDunraven, swift upstarting;

"Sweating's an accursed system, but if now our toil is o'er,

We leave twaddle as sole token of the swelling words we've spoken.

Public faith in us is broken! Bah! I quit, I "bust", boil o'er!

Take my seat, sign your Report, about such bosh my spirit bore?"

QuothDunraven, "Nevermore!"

I only hopes as most of my thowsands of readers took my strait tip last Wensday morning, and got their 9 to 4 against the winner, if not it most suttenly wasn't my fault. My directions was as clear as daylight. "Dark morning, dark blew carnt lose." And wosent it a dark morning? and wosent it luvly arterwuds? Any of my winners may send my 5 per sent commishun to the hoffice as ushal, and they will all receve a copy of my emortle Book by post.

It was a puffeckly lovely race! fust Cambridge got fust, then Hoxford got fust and Cambridge second, and so on all through, but in course Hoxford wun as I proffysized.

I seed all the River Tems Conserwatives, with the Right Honnerabel theLord Mareat the hed of 'em all, a laying carmly at rest in their bootifool Steam Bote, a trying for to look as if they wasn't responsibel for all the hundreds of thousands of peeple as lined all the banks of the River a gitting ome safely. Many on 'em I remarked kept on a disappearing down below ewery now and then, probberbly to seek that strengthening of the system so werry nessessery under such trying suckemstances. Upon the hole, I wentures werry humbly to pronounce it to be one of the werry sucksessfullest races of moddun times, which I bleeves means about 6 years.Robert.

THE GIFT HORSE"THE GIFT HORSE."

TIT FOR TATTIT FOR TAT.Captain Pullem (having just effected a "Swop" with his Friend)."Now, I'll be straight with you, Old Man. That Horse you've got from me is a bit of a Crib-biter!"Friend."Oh, don't mention it, Old Chap. You'll find mine to be a confirmed Runaway!"

Captain Pullem (having just effected a "Swop" with his Friend)."Now, I'll be straight with you, Old Man. That Horse you've got from me is a bit of a Crib-biter!"

Friend."Oh, don't mention it, Old Chap. You'll find mine to be a confirmed Runaway!"

(A Delightful "All-the-Year-Round" Resort for the Fashionable Composer.)Example II.—Showing how curiously Retentive is the Lover's Memory.

'Tis ninety years ago, love!It seems but yestermornWe sat upon the snow, love,And watch'd the golden corn!I mind the bitter wind, love—I mind it well, althoughThe wind I say I mind, love,Blew ninety years ago!The plough stood on the hill, love—The horse stood in the plough!And both were standing still, love—I seem to see them now!The lamb frisk'd in the glen, love—A strangerhetowhoa!And so was I—but then, love,'Twas ninety years ago!The roses by the way, love,Were large and, oh, so fair!And so they are to-day, love,For all I know—or care!And softly unto thou, love,While yet among the snow,I breathed that fatal vow, love,Of ninety years ago!

'Tis ninety years ago, love!

It seems but yestermorn

We sat upon the snow, love,

And watch'd the golden corn!

I mind the bitter wind, love—

I mind it well, although

The wind I say I mind, love,

Blew ninety years ago!

The plough stood on the hill, love—The horse stood in the plough!And both were standing still, love—I seem to see them now!The lamb frisk'd in the glen, love—A strangerhetowhoa!And so was I—but then, love,'Twas ninety years ago!

The plough stood on the hill, love—

The horse stood in the plough!

And both were standing still, love—

I seem to see them now!

The lamb frisk'd in the glen, love—

A strangerhetowhoa!

And so was I—but then, love,

'Twas ninety years ago!

The roses by the way, love,Were large and, oh, so fair!And so they are to-day, love,For all I know—or care!And softly unto thou, love,While yet among the snow,I breathed that fatal vow, love,Of ninety years ago!

The roses by the way, love,

Were large and, oh, so fair!

And so they are to-day, love,

For all I know—or care!

And softly unto thou, love,

While yet among the snow,

I breathed that fatal vow, love,

Of ninety years ago!

A "Fishing Interrogatory."—"What's this new French book on angling?" asked Mrs. R., who is not very well up in the French language and literature. "I believe," she went on, "it is calledThe Bait Humane. I do hope it is against the cruel practice of putting live worms on a hook, which is so cruel."—[It is supposed that our dear Mrs. R. has heard some mention ofLa Bête Humaine.—Ed.]

Adviceto those who are about to give Easter presents—send toMacmillan'sfor "The Nursery 'Alice,'" who re-appears "as fresh as paint," that is, with twenty-four of "Our Mr.Tenniel's" illustrations, coloured by MissGertrude Thomson, under his direction.

TheUniversal Reviewis specially noteworthy for a short play by Mr.W. L. Courtney, entitled,Kit Marlowe's Death. Mr.Bourchierof the St. James's, so it is stated, is going to add this "Kit" to his theatrical wardrobe. Some of the stage-directions,—such, for instance, as "They pour out wine in his cup, which he swallows," and "The others laugh atNash'sexpense,"—are well worth all the money that the spirited purchaser may have paid for this almost priceless work. In the same Magazine, the coloured frontispiece of "Count Tolstoy at Home," showing the Count, not labouring in the fields of literature, but simply guiding the plough, is as good as the article on theKreutzer Sonatais interesting; and interesting also is the paper entitled, "Musings in an English Cathedral," by the Dean ofGloucester,—henceforth to be known as "A Musing Dean."

Mr.Andrew LanginLongman's—or ratherLang-man's—Magazine, is still stopping at "The Sign of The Ship"—[The Baron moves "that the words 'and Turtle' be inserted after 'Ship'"]—and as he has recently been delighting us with wanders in the land of Ham, it will gratify his readers to learn, that he is now ceasing to be "All for 'Hur,'" in order to join the author of She in a plot for a new romance. They are undeterred by the eye of DetectiveRunciman. I wish success to Merry Andrew Languid in this collaboration. In this sameLang-man's Mag., Mr.Val Prinsep, A.R.A., having temporarily dissociated himself from the paint-brush and canvas, by which he has made his name and fame, continues his novelVirginie. In the present chapter he incidentally gives a description of the service of Mass in the goodAbbé Leroux'sparish church, which is a triumph of imagination and subtle humour. No wonder "theAbbé Lerouxwas scandalised," when the service had been turned topsy-turvy, thecredoput before thegloria, and a young person among his congregation, topping all other voices, was singing a solo! Where was the Beadle? or a Churchwarden? or an Aggrieved Parishioner? Three cheers for FacilePrinsep'snovel!

InPlain Tales from the Hills, by Mr.Rudyard Kipling, the jaded palate of the "General Reader" will recognise a new and piquant flavour. In places the manner suggests an Anglo-IndianBret Harte, and there is perhaps too great an abundance of phrases and local allusions which will be dark sayings to the uninitiated. But the stories show a quite surprising knowledge of life, a familiarity with military, civil, and native society, and a command of pathos and humour, which have already won a reputation for the author. Few can readBeyond the Pale,The Arrest of Lieutenant Golightly,The Story of Muhammed Din,The Germ Destroyer, andThe Madness of Private Ortheris, for example, without admiration for the versatility which can cover so wide a range, and impress, amuse, or touch with the same ease and epigrammatic conciseness.

Baron de Book-worms & Co.

(The Sporting M.P.'s Straight Tip to Trevelyan.)

In the intervals of SportM.P.'s vamp the country's work,Therefore cut the Sessions short,Supplementary Sessions shirk.Musthave time to pot the grouse,Musthave time to hook the salmon,Spoil our Sport to help the House?Gammon!!!

In the intervals of Sport

M.P.'s vamp the country's work,

Therefore cut the Sessions short,

Supplementary Sessions shirk.

Musthave time to pot the grouse,

Musthave time to hook the salmon,

Spoil our Sport to help the House?

Gammon!!!

Lost, somewhere between Land's End and John O'Groat's, a highly-treasured heir-loom, known as the "British Sense of Fair Play." It disappeared immediately after the issuing of the Report of the Parnell Commission, and has never been seen or heard of since. Many applicants have claimed to have re-discovered it; but, from SirR-ch-rd W-bst-rand SirW-ll-m H-rc-rt, toL-rd D-nr-v-n, and (last and least) SirW. M-rr-tt, all have absolutely failed to substantiate their claims. Any Public Man, of whatever party, who can prove his possession of the lost treasure, by making a speech embodying a judicial survey of the Judges' Report, without party-feeling, special pleading, or paltry spite, will, on applying personally toMr. Punch, beHandsomely Rewarded!!!

[Pipe-MajorMcKellarhas thrown doubts upon the pretty and pathetic story of "Jessie Brownof Lucknow."]

Our faith to the winds you would chuck now,Concerning that Legend of Lucknow.That sweet Scottish girlNever heard the pipes "skirl?"Come! This is mere sceptical muck now!The Ross-shire Buffs' slogan I'll wagerWill survive many stories much sager.Our faith in the taleIs confirmed, and won't failAt the word of a single Pipe-Major.

Our faith to the winds you would chuck now,Concerning that Legend of Lucknow.That sweet Scottish girlNever heard the pipes "skirl?"Come! This is mere sceptical muck now!

Our faith to the winds you would chuck now,

Concerning that Legend of Lucknow.

That sweet Scottish girl

Never heard the pipes "skirl?"

Come! This is mere sceptical muck now!

The Ross-shire Buffs' slogan I'll wagerWill survive many stories much sager.Our faith in the taleIs confirmed, and won't failAt the word of a single Pipe-Major.

The Ross-shire Buffs' slogan I'll wager

Will survive many stories much sager.

Our faith in the tale

Is confirmed, and won't fail

At the word of a single Pipe-Major.

TIME WORKS WONDERSTIME WORKS WONDERS.(Mr. Punch's Suggestions, à propos of the recent Discussions about Mr. Gladstone's Head.)

(Mr. Punch's Suggestions, à propos of the recent Discussions about Mr. Gladstone's Head.)

I have just receivedFlorian Pascal'sMusic composed forTra la la Tosca, published byJoseph Williamsof Berners Street. Justice was not done to it on the stage at the Royalty, but there are twomorçeauxin it which ought to become popular; one being a song entitled "Her Eye," which, were it wedded to serious words, would be highly popular as a contralto song, just asSullivan'scharming "Hush a bye Bacon," inCox and Box, became "Birds of the Night." Then the Gavotte in this book is as graceful and catching as theGavotte de Louis Treize, and would be in great request with orchestras and bands everywhere.

Klein'sMusical Notes of the Year, a useful and trustworthy historical record, was sent to me, and not "de-Klein'd with thanks." I have just heard that there is a new pick-me-up called "Zingit." What it is I don't know, and I haven't as yet come across the inevitable big advertisement; but what I have ascertained is, that Mr.Edward Solomon, who is now wearing the diamond scarf-pin presented to him by the Guards whom he led on to victory in their recent burlesque engagement, has composed a polka or waltz which bears the name of "Zingit," and which might bear on the wrapper, "If you can't play it, or dance it, Zing it."

(Signed)

Otto Piccolo (du Conservatoire).

Mr.Hubert Vosrequests the honour of our company at his studio near Vauxhall Bridge. Very sorry: couldn't get there. "SicVosnon vobis."

A "Scratch Company."—A Cat Show."

WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITHWHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH—AND HOW HE RETALIATES.She."Oh, he may be aGenius. But I confess I don'tcarefor the society of Geniuses!"He."How very Personal of you! It's as ifIwere to confess I didn't care for the society of Handsome Women!"

She."Oh, he may be aGenius. But I confess I don'tcarefor the society of Geniuses!"

He."How very Personal of you! It's as ifIwere to confess I didn't care for the society of Handsome Women!"

The application for a licence to marry at St. George's, Albemarle Street, made by theJeune Premier, Q.C., on behalf of the Rev. Dr.Ker Gray, was opposed by CanonCapel Cure, of St. George's, Hanover Square, the Hymeneal Templepar excellenceof the Metropolis. Dr.Tristram, with traditional Shandyan caution, said he would "take time to consider his decision." Should Dr. Time be adverse to the opponents, then will the Minister with the sad-dog name of "Ker Gray" become the Canon'sbête noire. If the decision be t'other way, thenKer Graymay twit the Canon with being "a regular Cure," and might compose a chant on the old lines of

"A Cure, a Cure, a Cure, a Cure,Oh isn't he a Cure!"

"A Cure, a Cure, a Cure, a Cure,

Oh isn't he a Cure!"

While the Canon could retaliate with a parody on "Old Dog Tray."

"The chapel's far too near,But p'raps another yearMay put a stop to oldKer Gray."

"The chapel's far too near,

But p'raps another year

May put a stop to oldKer Gray."

In the meantime, the affair beingsub (Punch-and-) judice, we refrain from further comment, and wish luck to both Reverend Gentlemen.

'Gin a body meet a bodyOn the Queen's highway,And a body kiss a body,Won't a body pay?Mony a lassie has a temper.Mony a beak is stern;At six weeks' quod, and fourteen bob,The lesson's hard to learn.

'Gin a body meet a body

On the Queen's highway,

And a body kiss a body,

Won't a body pay?

Mony a lassie has a temper.

Mony a beak is stern;

At six weeks' quod, and fourteen bob,

The lesson's hard to learn.

Too Much a Matter of Course.—Cruelty to Hares.

Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.

House of Commons, Monday, March 24.—PrinceArthurexplained in speech nearly two hours long the bearings of Irish Land Purchase Bill. In course of his exposition the happy accident by which civilised man is furnished with two coat-tails was strikingly illustrated. On the Treasury Bench, behind PrinceArthur, sat, on either hand,Old MoralityandJokim. Supposing the Prince had had only one coat-tail, differences might have arisen between his two right hon. friends; sure at some period of the prolonged speech to come into personal contact if both pulling at same rope. But the liberal sartorial arrangements whichArthurshared in common with less distinguished Members provided a coat-tail apiece; so when idea or suggestion occurred to him,Old Moralitytugged at the right-hand one, and whenJokimhad a happy thought he hauled away on the left.

As both their minds were seething with ideas,Arthurhad a lively time of it, and complications of Bill grew in entanglement. Just as he was assuming, for the sake of argument, that an advance of 30 millions had been made under the Act for the Purchase of Land in Ireland, and that seventeen years was about the average value under LordAshbourne'sAct, there was a sudden tug of the right coat-tail; Prince leaned over in that direction;Old Moralitywhispered in his ear.

"Exactly!" said the Prince; "I was just going to show that the instalment of 4 per cent. on the advance of 30 millions is £1,200,000 a year. Very well; suppose that in one year, though the hypothesis is utterly impossible, that not one single sixpence of annuity is paid. How would that be?" (Here the left coat-tail was observed to be violently agitated, andArthurleaning over,Jokimhalf-rising, eagerly explained something.)

"Precisely. My right hon. friend reminds me, what indeed I was just about to show, that there would be first the £200,000 reserve fund; secondly, there would be the £200,000 annual probate grant; thirdly, £40,000 of the new Exchequer contribution, and £75,000 of the quarter per cent, local per-centage, and there would be besides that £1,118,000 of tenants' reserve. So that without touching the £5,000,000, which was the landlords' fifth, and without touching a sixpence of the contingent portion of the guarantee fund, you would have £1,633,000 to meet the call of £1,200,000."

This prospect of boundless wealth, more especially the familiar way of putting it, making it quite a personal matter for each Member thathewould have £1,633,000 to meet a call of £1,200,000, was designed to have soothing effect on audience; would, indeed, have succeeded in that direction but for the coat-tail accompaniment.

"Jokim," saidHarcourt, "is too susceptible in his paternal feelings. We know now who is the father of the progeny. Arranged thatBalfourshall bring it in for christening ceremony; shall dandle it in his arms, and dilate on its excellences; but everyone can tell from the excited manner, the eager interruption, the restless hovering round the cradle, thatJokimis the father."

Business done.—Land Purchase Bill brought in.

Tuesday.—Wilfrid Lawsonsprang a mine to-night. House, as everyone knows, engaged for nearly fortnight in discussing question whether it should thank Judges for their services in connection with Parnell Commission. A desperate struggle finally resulted in decision to pass Vote of Thanks.Lawsonwants to know whetherOld Moralityhas conveyed the thanks to the Judges; and if so, what had they said in reply? Question put without notice. RatherstartlesOld Morality. Fact is, never occurred to him that anything had to be done in supplement of passing Vote of Thanks. There it was; Judges might, in passing, call in and take it home with them; or it might be forwarded, at owner's risk, by Parcel-Post or Pickford's. Very awkward thing thus springing these questions on a Minister. Couldn't even, right off, say where the Vote of Thanks was. Gazed hopelessly at mass of papers on Clerk's table. Might probably be there. Perhaps not. Vote passed some days ago; desk cleared every morning.Old Moralitymoved restlessly on bench; looked picture of despair. Best thing to do, not to take notice of question; pretend not to hear it; but House laughing and cheering; all eyes bent on him; no escape. So, rising, holding on to table, putting on most diplomatic manner, and speaking in solemn tones,Old Moralitysaid, "Mr.Speaker, Sir, it is no part of my duty to theQueenand country to convey to anybody a Resolution of this House."

Where's the Vote of Thanks?"Where's the Vote of Thanks?"

Lawsonup again. More cheering and laughter. AskedSpeakerwhetherhehad conveyed Vote of Thanks to Judges? No;Speakerhad had no instructions on the matter.

Where is the Vote of Thanks? Who has it in his possession? Certainly not the Judges; one of those things nobody had thought about; various people's business to see to it; accordingly no one done it; no wonder BrotherDay, sitting on Bench, has looked forth with stony stare, his heart consumed with secret sorrow. Whilst everyone congratulating Judges on rare honour done to them by both Houses of Parliament, the distinction has proved illusory. World pictured each learned Judge with copy of Vote of Thanks, framed and glazed, hung in best parlour; and behold! they have never had it at all!

House laughed when truth dawned upon it. But it was a hollow laugh, ill-concealing prevalent feeling of vexation and shame-facedness. Turned with affectation of keen interest to question raised byMundellaof iniquities of Education Department in connection with School Supply of York and Salisbury. But could not keep the thing up. Even rousing eloquence ofHart Dyke, on his defence, fell flat. Ever rose before Members the vision of the three Judges, daily expecting receipt of thanks which they read had been voted to them; too proud to complain of neglect;Hannentaking on a sterner aspect;Smithaffecting a perky indifference; and over the solemn features of BrotherDayever stealing the deepening twilight of deferred hope. House gladly broke away from scene and subject, getting itself Counted Out at a Quarter-past Nine.

Thursday.—"Talk aboutDizzy," saidHarcourt, perhaps not without some tinge of envy, "ifOld Moralitygoes on in this style,Dizzywon't be in it for persiflage."

House laughing so heartily, could hardly hearHarcourt'swhisper.John Morleybegan it; Lunacy Laws Consolidation Bill with 342 Clauses and 5 Schedules gone through Committee like flash of lightning. Nothing been seen like it since, the other night, I and seven other Members voted Four Millions sterling in Committee on Navy Estimates.Courtneyput Clauses in batches of fifty. No one said him nay. Natural supposition was, that House in agreeing to this critical stage of important Bill knew all about it. Every line of its 342 Clauses must be familiar to every man present; otherwise how could he lay his hand on his heart, and say, "Aye," whenCourtneyasked him should he knock off another fifty Clauses?

When it was over,John Morleyrose, and gravely expressed hope thatOld Moralitywould inform his friends, accustomed to say that Opposition persist in obstruction, how this piece of legislation had advanced by leaps and bounds. This meant to be a nasty one forOld Morality, prone to go into the country in Autumn and protest how he is hampered in performing duty toQueenand country by obstruction of Members opposite.

"Ha! ha!" chuckled the Liberals, "John'sgot him there. A hit, a palpable hit!"

But no one yet fathomed the tranquil depths ofOld Morality. Rose from other side of table and, with equal gravity, promised that he would tell all his friends "how the Opposition had given greatest possible facility for passing the Lunacy Bill." This joke one of kind whose exquisite flavour evaporates on paper. But House enjoyed it immensely, none more thanOld Morality. For an hour after, as he sat on Treasury Bench, his face from time to time suddenly suffused with genial smile, and his portly body gently shook with laughter.

"Ah!" said J. G.Talbot, mournfully regarding him through his spectacles; "he's thinking of the Old 'un," meaning the late joke.

Tearing up the TithesTearing up the Tithes.

Tithes Bill on for Second Reading.Pictonrallied scattered forces of Opposition, and led them to attack. Slashing speech; soaring eloquence; trenormous energy.

"Reminds me," said AdmiralField, "of his grandfather, GeneralPicton, who fell at Waterloo. Remember him very well; was in charge of Brigade of Marines there, you know; attached toPicton'sDivision. Never look on Member for Leicester without thinking of my old comrade in arms;" and the sturdy salt brushed away the reluctant tear.

PictonremindedHicks-Beachof someone else—"his great predecessor in spoliation,Henry the Eighth."

"Yes, but better looking," saidPlunket, always ready to put in a kind word.

Business done.—Tithes Bill Debate.

Friday Night.—Tithes Debate, which has had general effect of depressing the human mind, acted uponCranbornelike electric shock. Astonished and interested House to-night by vigorous speech delivered in favour of Bill. With clenched hands and set teeth declared that he "meant to fight for Established Church till death." He put it to the piraticalPictonand other marauders, whether, seeing that in such case the conflict must necessarily be prolonged, they would not do well to seize this opportunity of settling Tithe question?

Business done.—Second Reading Tithes Bill agreed to by 289 Votes against 164.

"A (Not) at Home."—Last week a paragraph appeared in an illustrated paper contradicting the report (published in an earlier issue) that a certain titled Lady had been present at somebody's party. This novel departure should be useful as a precedent to thecrême de la crêmeof suburban society. In future, such announcements as the following may be expected to be frequently found in the "Fashionable Intelligence" columns of the more aspiring of our Penny Socials:—"On Thursday last Mr. and Mrs.Madeira Top-floor Smithiesentertained a small and select party at their new residence, The Hollies, 24A, Zanzibar Terrace, Peckham Rye, East. Amongst those present we did not notice H.S.H. the Prince ofTeck, the Duke ofWestminster, LadyBurdett-Coutts, and theLord Chancellor. In the general circle, LordCross, the Countess ofClarendon, and the Bishop ofLondon, were also conspicuous by their absence. It was rumoured that neither the Duke ofCambridgenor Mr.Gladstonewere expected to join the company before the close of the entertainment."

Dinner Scarcely à la Roose.—DearMr. Punch,—I am a poor man, but I like a nice dinner. Now I have discovered how to enjoy a good meal, and yet keep the cost of living within reasonable limits. Here is my method. I order and eat, a lobster, two pounds of pork chops, a large-sized pot ofpâté de foies gras, a dressed crab, and three plates of toasted cheese. Having finished this dainty little dinner, I find, that I can eat nothing more for at least a week! That the pleasing fare does not make me ill, is proved by my friends declaring that I look like a picture of health. They do not say whether the picture is a good or bad one—but that is a matter of detail.

Yours sincerely,

The Founder of the More-than-Enough Society.

Utopian.—Neither noise, vibration, nor dust! That's what theBramwells, theWatkins, and theGaltonsclaim for that partly-developed but promising—much promising—invention of M.Girard's, theChemin de Fer Glissant, or Sliding Railway.Whata happy ideal! By all means, "Let it slide!"

A Chance for a New Member.—"Rookeries," said Mr.Henry Lazarusin his evidence at Marylebone, "abound in St. Pancras, and it is a scandal to civilisation that they should continue to exist." Now, Mr.Bolton, M.P., can't you have your legal and parliamentary finger in this Rook pie?

Pointing finger

NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

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