A POLITICAL MILITARY TOURNAMENT.

A POLITICAL MILITARY TOURNAMENT.A POLITICAL MILITARY TOURNAMENT.

A is the Ache which the Drivers delay.B is the Bus, which they're chained to all day.C 's the poor Cad who is sick of his trade.D is the Dividend that must be paid.E 's the day's End, which finds him dead-beat.F is the Food he has no time to eat.G is his Good, for which nobody cares.H is the Horse who so much better fares.I 's the Increase in his pay that he waits,J 's the fine Jump he'll soon take with his mates.K is the Knife-board, which funds should provide.L are the Ladies, who now go outside.M is the Money that's earned every day.N the New lines, that they start, and make pay.O Opposition, they speedily chase.P is the Public that fills every place.Q is the Question, that hints at Reform.R the Reply, that soon raises a storm.S the Shareholder, blind in his greed.T is the Tension which he'd better heed.U 's the Upset he won't certainly like.V 's the Vigorous Vengeance of strike.W Wisdom that comes somewhat late.X Express Action which may avert Fate!Y, Yell triumphal, the men win the day.Z—"Zounds!" which is all Directors can say.

A is the Ache which the Drivers delay.

B is the Bus, which they're chained to all day.

C 's the poor Cad who is sick of his trade.

D is the Dividend that must be paid.

E 's the day's End, which finds him dead-beat.

F is the Food he has no time to eat.

G is his Good, for which nobody cares.

H is the Horse who so much better fares.

I 's the Increase in his pay that he waits,

J 's the fine Jump he'll soon take with his mates.

K is the Knife-board, which funds should provide.

L are the Ladies, who now go outside.

M is the Money that's earned every day.

N the New lines, that they start, and make pay.

O Opposition, they speedily chase.

P is the Public that fills every place.

Q is the Question, that hints at Reform.

R the Reply, that soon raises a storm.

S the Shareholder, blind in his greed.

T is the Tension which he'd better heed.

U 's the Upset he won't certainly like.

V 's the Vigorous Vengeance of strike.

W Wisdom that comes somewhat late.

X Express Action which may avert Fate!

Y, Yell triumphal, the men win the day.

Z—"Zounds!" which is all Directors can say.

[A Monument to BENDIGO, the famous prize-fighter, has been lately erected at Nottingham.]

Old Prize-fighter soliloquises:—

If ever to the "Pelican" alone or with a friend I go,I sigh for men of muscle who could fight a fight like BENDIGO.He didn't fight in feather-beds, or spend his days in chattering,But faced his man, and battered him, or took his foeman's battering.He didn't deal in gas, or waste his time in mere retort at all;But now the "pugs" are interviewed, and journalists report it all.A man may call it what he will, brutality or bravery,I'd rather have the prize-ring back than give a purse to knavery.Knaves fight for points, the audience shouts and wrangles in allotting 'em;I hate their fancy-work, I'm off to take the train to Nottingham.I like a Man; though modern men and modern manners mend, I goTo drop a last regretful tear o'er poor departed BENDIGO.

If ever to the "Pelican" alone or with a friend I go,

I sigh for men of muscle who could fight a fight like BENDIGO.

He didn't fight in feather-beds, or spend his days in chattering,

But faced his man, and battered him, or took his foeman's battering.

He didn't deal in gas, or waste his time in mere retort at all;

But now the "pugs" are interviewed, and journalists report it all.

A man may call it what he will, brutality or bravery,

I'd rather have the prize-ring back than give a purse to knavery.

Knaves fight for points, the audience shouts and wrangles in allotting 'em;

I hate their fancy-work, I'm off to take the train to Nottingham.

I like a Man; though modern men and modern manners mend, I go

To drop a last regretful tear o'er poor departed BENDIGO.

GENTLE SARCASM.GENTLE SARCASM."YESSIR; I GITS 'OME FROM MY LAST JOURNEY AT MIDNIGHT,—AN' THEN I 'AS THERESTOF THE HEVENIN' TOMYSELF!"

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

House of Commons, Monday, June 1.—House of Commons, as usual at this time of Session, driven against wall in its struggles with appointed work. With brief recesses, been at work since November last. One thing everyone insists on is that Prorogation shall take place at end of July. Difficult to see how even by most masterly management that can be accomplished. Apart from Education Bill, enough work in hand, if Supply be fairly dealt with, to carry us on to last week in July. Every moment precious; every quarter of an hour lost an irretrievable misfortune.

Accordingly, to-day, meeting in the freshness and vigour of new week, House takes up a local Bill dealing with pilotage in Bristol Channel. Two or three Members talk about it for hour and a half. House neither knowing nor caring anything on subject, empties; Division bell sounds through all the rooms and corridors. How is a man to vote when the question abruptly submitted is, "That the Pilotage Provisional Orders No. 1 Bill be now read a Second Time?" Still, it's as well to vote, as it runs up average attendance on Divisions, at which at election times constituents sometimes glance. Fortunately, in this case, MICHAEL BEACH, as one of Members for Bristol, took part in Debate and Division. As useful this as sign-post to belated traveller at four cross-roads. Conservatives and Liberals crowded at Bar keep their eye on President of Board of Trade, watching which way he would go. He led the way into the "Aye" lobby. Thither followed him all the Conservatives, all the Liberals trooping into the "No" lobby. When Noses were counted, it was found that 165 voted "Aye," 119 "No." And thus it came to pass that the Pilotage Provisional Order No. 1 Bill was read a Second Time.

One gathered from chance expressions, and especially from the interest taken in the affair by Members for City of Bristol, that Bristol had special interest in the Bill. In addition to MICHAEL BEACH'S support, WESTON on Liberal side, HILL on Conservative Benches, supported Second Reading. Sinking political differences, Member for East Bristol, and Member for South Bristol, agreed upon plan of campaign.

"You, WESTON," said Colonel HILL who, having obtained his military rank in the peaceful pursuits of commercial shipping, is a master of strategy, "speak so low that they can't hear a word you say, whilst I, concealing a miniature speaking-trumpet in my mouth, will roar at them as if a stout North-Easter were blowing through the lanyards of our first battalion, deployed in open order."

Tactics succeeded admirably. Sir JOSEPH WESTON, a mild, aldermanic person, presented himself from quarter behind Front Opposition Bench, and, to all appearances, delivered an admirable address. His lips moved, his right hand marked the rhythm of his ordered speech; now his eyes flashed in reprobation, and anon smiled approval. But not a sound, save a soft murmur, as of distant dripping waterfall, was heard.L'Enfant Prodiguewasn't in it for successful pantomime.

When the movement stopped, and the Alderman was discovered to be sitting down, the martial-nautical HILL sprang up from Bench on other side, and the stillness was broken by a rasping voice, that woke DICKY TEMPLE out of his early slumber. The strategy, cleverly conceived, was admirably carried out, and Bristol, thanks to diversified talent of its Members, got its Bill. Only it seemed a pity that an hour and a half of precious public time should incidentally have been appropriated.

Business done.—Irish Land Bill in report stage.

Tuesday.—House of Lords the scene of a thrilling performance to-night. Usually meets for business at half-past four. On Tuesdays, in order to give Noble Lords opportunity for preparing for exhaustive labours, public business does not commence till half-past five.

Punctually at that hour, a solitary pedestrian might have been observed walking up the floor of the historic Chamber. A flowing gown hid, without entirely concealing, his graceful figure; a full-bottomed wig crowned his stately head, as the everlasting snows veil the lofty heights of the Himalayas. He looked neither to the right hand nor to the left, but with swinging stride strode forward. At the end of the Chamber stood the Throne of England, on which, in days gone by, HARCOURT'S Plantagenet fathers sat, and in which some day—who knows?—the portly frame of him who now proudly bears the humble title, SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, may recline.

But that is another story. The gowned-and-wigged figure observed walking up the floor of the House of Lords at half-past five on a June evening, was not making for the Throne. Before that piece of furniture stood a bench, in appearance something like the familiar ottoman of the suburban drawing-room. It was the Woolsack, and thesveltefigure, swinging towards it with the easy stride of superlative grace and comparative youth, was the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR! Before him, at respectful distance, went his Purse-bearer, ready to produce the wherewithal should his Lordship desire a pick-me-up by the way. Behind him came the Mace-bearer, and, a foot further in the rear, Black Rod.

Accommodated with a Seat."Accommodated with a Seat."

Odsfakins! a stately procession, which ought to have been set in the centre of an admiring multitude. But the LORD CHANCELLOR'S springy footfall echoed through an almost empty chamber. DENMAN was faithful at his post, ready to move that some Bill be read a Second Time on that day nine months. Here and there, on widely severed benches, perched a Peer, whilst from the Gallery, where he had been accommodated with a seat, the smiling mobile face of Mr. Justice DAY peered forth. He had just looked in on his way home from the Courts, interested in a scene where some day he may take his place as Brother BRAMWELL and Brother COLERIDGE have done.

The keen eyes of the great LORD CHANCELLOR flashed round the chilling scene. Clerk at the table mumbled something about Provisional Orders.

"Those that are of that opinion say 'Content,'" observed the LORD CHANCELLOR. "Contrary, 'Not Content;' the Contents have it. This House will now adjourn."

Then uprose the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR, and with the same stately swinging step, moved towards the doorway, with the Purse-bearer, the Mace-bearer, and Black Rod in his train. It was twenty-five minutes to Six; full five minutes had elapsed since the House of Lords met. Now House of Lords had adjourned, and the throbbing pulses of an Empire on which the sun never sets beat with steadier motion, knowing that all was well.Business done.—House of Lords adjourned.

Thursday.—Rather a painful scene just now between PRINCE ARTHUR and the SQUIRE of MALWOOD. T.W. RUSSELL proposed new Clause on Irish Land Bill, which provided for reïnstatement of evicted tenants; received with general applause, and finally agreed to. In the midst of general congratulations and shaking hands, the SQUIRE lounged in, and with many back-handed slaps at the Government, added his approval to the general chorus. The Ministry were hopelessly bad, but this clause, though proposed by a supporter of theirs, was moderately good.

Balfour, Q.C.Balfour, Q.C.

"Singular thing," said Prince ARTHUR, in meditative tone, as if he were talking to himself, "that the Right Hon. Gentleman can never interfere in debate, however far removed the subject may be from the arena of Party Politics, without forthwith dragging it into the arena."

"That," said BALFOUR, Q.C., who chanced to be on the Front Opposition Bench, "is a striking example of the misapprehension under which acute minds occasionally labour. I have known my Right Hon. friend for many years; we have sat on this Bench together in Opposition, and have worked in the same Ministry, and I confess it is a little shocking to me to hear him accused of tendency to enter upon controversial topics. I am myself a man of peace, and do not readily assume an attitude of reproof; but, as Mr. HENRY ARTHUR WILSON said when he stood over the improvised Baccarat-table with a piece of chalk in his hand, the line must be drawn somewhere, and I am inclined to rule it at the place where my friend HARCOURT is accused of wilfully and designedly disturbing the Parliamentary peace."Business done.—Still on the Land Bill.

Friday Night.—Still grinding away at the report stage of Land Bill; don't get any forrader; been at it a week, and to-night just as many Amendments on the paper as there were on Monday. All night upon a single new Clause. Everybody wearied to death. Even WINDBAG SEXTON a little moody; not had such a good night as usual; the debate lasting throughout sitting, and, there being only one Motion before the House, SEXTON (with the SPEAKER in the Chair) could speak only once; that he did, at considerable length. But a poor consolation for lost opportunity.

Congratulated the suffering SPEAKER on this accident; pointed out to him things were bad enough; but might be worse.

"I suppose, TOBY," he said, "you never read PRIOR? Haven't looked him up for many years; but, sitting here through this week, there is one couplet—from hisSolomon, I think—ever running through my mind:—

'ABRA was ready ere I called her name;And, though I call'd another, ABRA came.'

'ABRA was ready ere I called her name;

And, though I call'd another, ABRA came.'

Just like SEXTON."

Business done.—One Clause added to Land Bill.

"Grey hair is fashionable for the youthful,"Says a Mode oracle acknowledged truthful.Strange that Society should have a rageFor that anomaly—artificial Age!Dust on their heads our pretty women toss,Just to deprive it of its pristine gloss.Make ashen-white your eyebrows, there, and lashes,Precocious hags! The world's but dust and ashes.Wrinkles and crowsfeet next must have their turn(To limn them in let toilette artists learn),Then make eachbellebald, scraggy-necked and toothless,Grey hair alone won't make Society youthless.Letbellesturn beldams if they find it jolly.But they might be consistent in their folly!

"Grey hair is fashionable for the youthful,"

Says a Mode oracle acknowledged truthful.

Strange that Society should have a rage

For that anomaly—artificial Age!

Dust on their heads our pretty women toss,

Just to deprive it of its pristine gloss.

Make ashen-white your eyebrows, there, and lashes,

Precocious hags! The world's but dust and ashes.

Wrinkles and crowsfeet next must have their turn

(To limn them in let toilette artists learn),

Then make eachbellebald, scraggy-necked and toothless,

Grey hair alone won't make Society youthless.

Letbellesturn beldams if they find it jolly.

But they might be consistent in their folly!

MUSICAL, THEATRICAL, AND JUDICIAL.—TheDaily Telegraph, quoting from theMiddlesex County Times, last Saturday, stated that, "TheLORD CHANCELLOR had added the name of Mr. W.S. GILBERT,Poet and Dramatist, to the Commission of the Peace for the County of Middlesex." So is it said that another "W.S.," one WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE—who, by the way, also had a GILBERT in the family—was, in his latter years, made a J.P." Mr. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE GILBERT—if he will kindly allow us so to style him, as uniting the qualities of poet and dramatist—should receive a special and peculiar title. Let him, then, be henceforth known as "The Poetic Justice of the Piece."

[Mr. GLADSTONE says, "If the priest is to live, he must beg, earn, or steal."]

Now, here's a needy Vicar; who will hire him? He can preach,Can confute a boat of infidels and crush them with a text.If a Sunday school is started, he's the very man to teach,If you snub him he may hate it, but he'll never show he's vexed.He can spend his days in visiting the alleys and the slums,And support his own existence, and his family's, on crumbs.Come, come, Sir, you are generous. What! eighty pounds a year?It's a fortune for a Vicar; I am sure he won't refuse.Why it's sixteen hundred shillings, he will take it, never fear;For though priests are scarcely beggars, yet they can't afford to choose.He hasn't got a single vice; I'll guarantee him sound,And he'll make a crown go farther than an ordinary pound.And here we have a Bishop; we don't do things by halves;He requires a roomy palace, he is sturdy, stout and tall.You can have him as he stands, Sir, with his gaiters and his calves;Five thousand hires the Bishop, apron, appetite and all.What? You much prefer the Vicar with his collar and his tie?And you'd rather pay him extra? Here's your health. Sir; so would I.

Now, here's a needy Vicar; who will hire him? He can preach,

Can confute a boat of infidels and crush them with a text.

If a Sunday school is started, he's the very man to teach,

If you snub him he may hate it, but he'll never show he's vexed.

He can spend his days in visiting the alleys and the slums,

And support his own existence, and his family's, on crumbs.

Come, come, Sir, you are generous. What! eighty pounds a year?It's a fortune for a Vicar; I am sure he won't refuse.Why it's sixteen hundred shillings, he will take it, never fear;For though priests are scarcely beggars, yet they can't afford to choose.He hasn't got a single vice; I'll guarantee him sound,And he'll make a crown go farther than an ordinary pound.

Come, come, Sir, you are generous. What! eighty pounds a year?

It's a fortune for a Vicar; I am sure he won't refuse.

Why it's sixteen hundred shillings, he will take it, never fear;

For though priests are scarcely beggars, yet they can't afford to choose.

He hasn't got a single vice; I'll guarantee him sound,

And he'll make a crown go farther than an ordinary pound.

And here we have a Bishop; we don't do things by halves;He requires a roomy palace, he is sturdy, stout and tall.You can have him as he stands, Sir, with his gaiters and his calves;Five thousand hires the Bishop, apron, appetite and all.What? You much prefer the Vicar with his collar and his tie?And you'd rather pay him extra? Here's your health. Sir; so would I.

And here we have a Bishop; we don't do things by halves;

He requires a roomy palace, he is sturdy, stout and tall.

You can have him as he stands, Sir, with his gaiters and his calves;

Five thousand hires the Bishop, apron, appetite and all.

What? You much prefer the Vicar with his collar and his tie?

And you'd rather pay him extra? Here's your health. Sir; so would I.

pointer

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