A TESTIMONIAL.

NEWTON AND THE APPLE.NEWTON AND THE APPLE.(THE LATEST VERSION OF AN OLD STORY.)

(THE LATEST VERSION OF AN OLD STORY.)

Anotherversion of "Newtonand the Apple," is "Newtonand the Appeal." In France, it would have been sent up to the Court of Cass-ation.

Onthe front page of this week'sChristian Ageis an excellent portrait of a Christian Youth, Mr. DeputyBedfordasSir Adonis Evergreen.Age!What has he got to do with Age, whether a Christian Age or any other? He is not for an Age but for all time, and if "Age is before Honesty," then at what period of his existence——but this is to inquire too curiously into the future. Suffice it to say that there is something in this particular Page which reminds us of an eminently respectable Waiter, not unknown to the public, and to more than one public it may be, as—"Robert." Christian Youth,Salve Flos Waiterum! and in these "salad days,"Salvete Flores Tomatorum!

In Trafalgar Square.—The New Rooms at the National Gallery may now fairly claim to present "the finest 'sight' in Europe." Thanks to SirFrederick Burtonand Mr.Eastlake, who, like the great naval hero on the top of the column in the neighbourhood, may congratulate themselves on having done what the Nation expects them to do—their duty. And so here's our duty to you, SirFrederickand Mr.Eastlake!

Political Mensuration.—When the Gladstonians say that we are "within measurable distance" of Home Rule, do they mean that that distance is to be measured by a (National) League?

Lord Bramwell, "the Busy B" of theTimes.

THE TRIANGULAR DUEL OF THE OPERATIC MANAGERSTHE TRIANGULAR DUEL OF THE OPERATIC MANAGERS.

Lady loquitur:—

Battleof Blues? There's the blue of the skies and eyes aristocratic,But take the array all around the true battle is polychromatic.Eh?FairversusBrand? Ah! of course; but you cannot expect us to narrowThe rainbow of Fashion to favour the yearnings of Eton and Harrow.Nice lads,verynice; always like Eton boys, when they haven't got "pots" on,And there is a good deal that's "smiting" in Whatshisname—no, I meanWatson;But Blue's not sochicas it was, and a triumph in azure is barren,That is, to a girl who is simply a girl, and notA. C. M'Laren,White has it to-day, my dearBlanche, though a spotting of scarlet and crimsonGleams over the ground, for sweet womanwilltake most peculiar whims on.A nice bit of Chelsea? Eh? What? Oh! that pluckyLordChelsea, dear fellow!Not out, seventy-two; very good!—butdolook at that girl in bright yellow!It seems to add heat to the sun that is beating and broiling our backs on.Eh? Why doesn'tFairmake more use of his capital fast bowler,Jackson?I'm sureIdon't know.Edith Blandall alone there, poor faded forlorn flower!Yes, Harrow has rather hard luck, and I wish I had mounted a cornflower;But blue doesn't suit me a bit; and whycan'tthey change colours with seasons,These Teams? Oh! don't argue it, please, there's no muddle like male creatures'reasons.That lady in heliotrope graceful? Dear me! why she walks like Pa's heifer,Eat? Oh! it's too hot; I could lunch on a strawberry plus an iced zephyr.Well, y-e-es,onemore glass of champagne, and that salad is really delightful.—WhyFlosshad three helps to my two, that child's appetite really is frightful!Oh! what's that? PoorFairout again? Now I think that's unfair. Oh! no pun, Sir—I neverdopun, if you please, and most surely not under this sun, Sir.There are too many ways, don't you think, so? of getting "out"; bowlings, and catches,And stumpings, and—what's l.b.w.? Always see that in these matches—Oh! there is PrinceChristian! Iwishthat the lads had less powerful voices,This shouting must hurt Harrow's feelings, and if shehasfewer "old choices"That isn'therfault, I suppose, and they ought to allow her more batters.That would harrow poor Harrow much more? Well, I reallycan'tfathom such matters.Ah!Raphaelseems a sweet name; and he's "out for a duck" too; how horrid!Why, even poorGoslingmadefour. Oh, dear me, 'tis tremendously torrid!And, how theycanrun so——There, listen toIsabel Smythe,dojust listen.She's coached up in Cricketing slang; she has "crammed" for it. How her eyes glisten!"Oh! bowled, Sir, indeed! Caught, Sir, caught!"—And she rhymes "bowled" to "howled." Most disgusting!Last over? Hope Harrow will pull up to-morrow. Of course they are trustingIn mightyM'Larenagain. But oh, if their colours they'd vary!Unless you've a brother, you know, or alover likeMildredandMary.In one team or other, it's hard to get up an emotion that's "humming,"For dark blue and light are so like, Sir, and neither isverybecoming.

Battleof Blues? There's the blue of the skies and eyes aristocratic,

But take the array all around the true battle is polychromatic.

Eh?FairversusBrand? Ah! of course; but you cannot expect us to narrow

The rainbow of Fashion to favour the yearnings of Eton and Harrow.

Nice lads,verynice; always like Eton boys, when they haven't got "pots" on,

And there is a good deal that's "smiting" in Whatshisname—no, I meanWatson;

But Blue's not sochicas it was, and a triumph in azure is barren,

That is, to a girl who is simply a girl, and notA. C. M'Laren,

White has it to-day, my dearBlanche, though a spotting of scarlet and crimson

Gleams over the ground, for sweet womanwilltake most peculiar whims on.

A nice bit of Chelsea? Eh? What? Oh! that pluckyLordChelsea, dear fellow!

Not out, seventy-two; very good!—butdolook at that girl in bright yellow!

It seems to add heat to the sun that is beating and broiling our backs on.

Eh? Why doesn'tFairmake more use of his capital fast bowler,Jackson?

I'm sureIdon't know.Edith Blandall alone there, poor faded forlorn flower!

Yes, Harrow has rather hard luck, and I wish I had mounted a cornflower;

But blue doesn't suit me a bit; and whycan'tthey change colours with seasons,

These Teams? Oh! don't argue it, please, there's no muddle like male creatures'reasons.

That lady in heliotrope graceful? Dear me! why she walks like Pa's heifer,

Eat? Oh! it's too hot; I could lunch on a strawberry plus an iced zephyr.

Well, y-e-es,onemore glass of champagne, and that salad is really delightful.—

WhyFlosshad three helps to my two, that child's appetite really is frightful!

Oh! what's that? PoorFairout again? Now I think that's unfair. Oh! no pun, Sir—

I neverdopun, if you please, and most surely not under this sun, Sir.

There are too many ways, don't you think, so? of getting "out"; bowlings, and catches,

And stumpings, and—what's l.b.w.? Always see that in these matches—

Oh! there is PrinceChristian! Iwishthat the lads had less powerful voices,

This shouting must hurt Harrow's feelings, and if shehasfewer "old choices"

That isn'therfault, I suppose, and they ought to allow her more batters.

That would harrow poor Harrow much more? Well, I reallycan'tfathom such matters.

Ah!Raphaelseems a sweet name; and he's "out for a duck" too; how horrid!

Why, even poorGoslingmadefour. Oh, dear me, 'tis tremendously torrid!

And, how theycanrun so——There, listen toIsabel Smythe,dojust listen.

She's coached up in Cricketing slang; she has "crammed" for it. How her eyes glisten!

"Oh! bowled, Sir, indeed! Caught, Sir, caught!"—And she rhymes "bowled" to "howled." Most disgusting!

Last over? Hope Harrow will pull up to-morrow. Of course they are trusting

In mightyM'Larenagain. But oh, if their colours they'd vary!

Unless you've a brother, you know, or a

lover likeMildredandMary.

In one team or other, it's hard to get up an emotion that's "humming,"

For dark blue and light are so like, Sir, and neither isverybecoming.

"The Three Graces," now well placed, had been previously "skied." But didn't this show that SirJoshua'swork ranked uncommonly high in the opinion of the former hangers?

It is not surprising that among SirRobert Peel'sCollection there should have been several charming Constables. These Pictures ought to be called and known as "Peelers."

(Sung by Sir H-nry Dr-mm-nd W-lff.)

I.—L'ADIEU À LA PORTE.

Air—"The Good-bye at the Door."

Ofall the memories of the pastThat long will haunt my dreams,This scene upon my soul will castThe brightest, gladdest beams.I've really had the jolliest spree,ThoughS-l-sb-rycuts it short;Memory will oft recall to meThe Good-bye to the Porte.My stay out here may have estrangedThe closest friends I knew;R-nd-lph, I think, seems rather changed;WillB-lf-rprove more true?No happy hours again for meIn this sweet clime to sport!I cannot contemplate with gleeThis Good-bye to the Porte.

Ofall the memories of the past

That long will haunt my dreams,

This scene upon my soul will cast

The brightest, gladdest beams.

I've really had the jolliest spree,

ThoughS-l-sb-rycuts it short;

Memory will oft recall to me

The Good-bye to the Porte.

My stay out here may have estrangedThe closest friends I knew;R-nd-lph, I think, seems rather changed;WillB-lf-rprove more true?No happy hours again for meIn this sweet clime to sport!I cannot contemplate with gleeThis Good-bye to the Porte.

My stay out here may have estranged

The closest friends I knew;

R-nd-lph, I think, seems rather changed;

WillB-lf-rprove more true?

No happy hours again for me

In this sweet clime to sport!

I cannot contemplate with glee

This Good-bye to the Porte.

II.-GOOD-BYE, SWEET PORTE, GOOD-BYE!

Air—"Good-bye, Sweetheart, good-bye!"

Mybright hopes fade, my heart is breaking(I feel inclined to cuss our Chief),And I from thee my leave am taking,After a stay too brief, too brief.How sinks my heart with strange alarms!An angry tear obscures my eye.Stamboul, they drive me from thy charms;Good-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!My innings end,—without much scoring,—Loud swells the Rad's derisive jeer.If France I long have failed in flooring,Still I was here, still Iwashere.If I could keep my place (and pay),Patient diplomacy to ply,I would not leave thee though I sayGood-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!

Mybright hopes fade, my heart is breaking

(I feel inclined to cuss our Chief),

And I from thee my leave am taking,

After a stay too brief, too brief.

How sinks my heart with strange alarms!

An angry tear obscures my eye.

Stamboul, they drive me from thy charms;

Good-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!

My innings end,—without much scoring,—Loud swells the Rad's derisive jeer.If France I long have failed in flooring,Still I was here, still Iwashere.If I could keep my place (and pay),Patient diplomacy to ply,I would not leave thee though I sayGood-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!

My innings end,—without much scoring,—

Loud swells the Rad's derisive jeer.

If France I long have failed in flooring,

Still I was here, still Iwashere.

If I could keep my place (and pay),

Patient diplomacy to ply,

I would not leave thee though I say

Good-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!

Grandolph's Teachings.—When you rush in to dress at five minutes to eight, and you are to dine two miles off at eight sharp, when your shoe-strings break, your studs roll on the floor, your links refuse to catch, and you suddenly discover an iron-mould in the centre of your shirt-front, then when a sweet patient voice from the other room says, "O my dear! don't use such awful language!" then bethink you ofGrandolph, and explain that your fervent utterances were only "blessings in disguise."

Covent Garden Opera.—Mr. Punch'sadvice,—ifLohengrinis given again, with the same cast as it had last Saturday, go and hear it. A real treat.

THE PROVINCIALSTHE PROVINCIALS!Northern Belle."Did you go up to the Academy Soiree?"Masher."Ah—m—m—no. I—ah—seldom go to London now. My Tailor comes down North three or four times a Year!"

Northern Belle."Did you go up to the Academy Soiree?"

Masher."Ah—m—m—no. I—ah—seldom go to London now. My Tailor comes down North three or four times a Year!"

Itis understood that at the final sitting of the Sobranje it was decided to submit to PrinceFerdinandof Saxe-Coburg the following memorandum of terms for his acceptance:—

That he shall forward, together with his references, his photograph on approval.

On it being notified to him that these have been considered satisfactory, he shall state whether he understands the confidence and three-card tricks, and also what acquaintance he possesses with the heavier feats of advancedleger-de-mainthat would warrant his active intervention in the diplomatic intrigues of Eastern Europe.

That he shall provide his own crown, which must be a decidedly showy affair, and should be so constructed as, by a little manipulation, it could, in any sudden outbreak of popular fury, be made to assume the appearance of an ordinary top-hat.

That his coronation-robe should be reversible, and, when turned inside out, serve as a dressing-gown that would be available for night surprises of a revolutionary character.

That he should be supplied with six bullet-proof shirts, to be worn on important State occasions, and have not less than twelve complete theatrical disguises for purposes of escaping with his life beyond the frontiers after the passing of unpopular measures.

That he will be expected to have sufficient command of the Russian language to enable him to indite an occasional defiant and offensive epistle to theCzaras occasion may require.

That he must understand that his household will be composed partly of traitors, whom, however, as the Government will see that his bedroom door is provided with an extra bolt, he need only keep carefully under his eye during the daytime.

That the salary for discharging the above functions will be £200 per annum, payable quarterly in advance, and guaranteed as recoverable by personal service, on the properties of the unpopular chiefs of the Opposition.

Complainingof the foul condition of the bathing-lakes in Victoria Park, Mr.Pickersgillasked the First Commissioner of Works "to accompany him one morning to see the state of the Lakes for himself." There is some reason to believe that, acting on this admirable suggestion, official expeditions will be organised to other places; for instance:—

The Duke ofBedfordwill attend at Covent Garden Market at two o'clock in the morning and stay there till mid-day, and see how he likes it.

Mr.Chamberlainwill consent to be locked inside a barricaded Irish hovel when an eviction is expected.

The Ranger of Kensington Gardens—if there is one, or, failing him, the Deranger—will visit the neighbourhood of the Round Pond, and notice the adroit manner in which the turf has been removed so as just to prevent the full enjoyment of the gardens by the public during the whole of the present summer.

Mr.Matthews, as an Amateur and very Casual Defendant, will go round the various Metropolitan Police-courts, and attempt to give evidence contradicting that of policemen, and will thus obtain a valuable insight into Magisterial deportment.

Selected Members of the Vestries and of the Metropolitan Board of Works will harness themselves to omnibuses, and attempt to drag the vehicles, when fully loaded, over watered wood and asphalte without slipping.

The Archbishop ofCanterbury, disguised as a troubled parishioner in need of spiritual advice, will call on any London Curate and ask him his real unvarnished opinion on his Vicar's proposal that he should "give liberally" to the Church House Scheme.

Mr.Gladstonewill "take a place" in Kerry and try to collect his own rents.

Mr.Laboucherewill negotiate with the Sublime Porte himself, at half Sir H.Drummond Wolff'ssalary, and promise not to grumble.

And, every Member of Parliament who has ever promised to "do something" to improve the Dwellings of the Poor, and has done nothing, will spend the whole of August in a slum-dwelling in Whitechapel.

Somesay to keep the realm compact,We must stick to the Union-Act;Others, that to be one, and feel it,We must immediately repeal it.Strange that such difference should be,'Twixt Unionand Unity!

Somesay to keep the realm compact,

We must stick to the Union-Act;

Others, that to be one, and feel it,

We must immediately repeal it.

Strange that such difference should be,

'Twixt Unionand Unity!

How perfect Mr.Rider Haggard'slatest story would he, if it weren't for his persistent introduction of the low comedian, a stagey French cook of the old farcical order. Couldn't he "find another way to (comic) man his Haggard?" This quotation is fromThe Taming of the Shrew, adapted.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

Fac-Simile of SketchF.M. PUNCH'S PARLIAMENTARY REVIEW.Fac-Simile of Sketch made by our Special Artist on the Field.

House of Commons, Monday Night, July 4.—Floor of House strewed with crackers to-night, popping off unexpectedly as proceedings advanced. Immediately after Questions,Arthur Balfourbrought up to whipping-post. For so clever a young manArthurhas made serious mistake. Gave definite pledge upon certain clause of Coercion Bill, then omitted to fulfil it, and finally, when challenged, wriggled about and endeavoured to show that his remissness of no practical consequence. House doesn't like wriggling. Nobody butHart-Dykecame to assistance of beleaguered Minister, andhewas incontinently put down bySpeaker.Halley-Stewart, that child of victory, came in fresh from Spalding. Greeted with thunderous cheers from Opposition who have plucked up spirits wonderfully.

Old Morality, in his oldest and most moral manner, moved to appropriate remaining time of House for Government business. Fire opened upon him from all sides in protest against arrangement. Every man with a Bill wanted day to bring it forward.Chaplinin most magnificent manner joined in protest.Smithhaving replied in detail seemed that the incident was closed. But in fact was only beginning.Smithhad greatly shockedGladstoneby incidentally alluding to Opposition as "entirely unparalleled in annals of Parliament."Gladstone, recalling some scenes between 1880 and 1885, raised his hands appealingly to 'igh 'eaven against the statement.John Morleydashed in with vigorous speech; thenGoschencame to front, wringing his hands and working himself up to height of desperation.Gladstonehad declared that he and his friends had not been charged with conniving at Obstruction.

"If the charge has not been made," saidGoschen, trying to edge himself behind the plump figure of Old Morality, "it shall be made, and I make it."

This brought upHarcourt, who calledGoschen"a deserter." This did not add to general amity of proceedings. Opposition cheered; Conservatives howled; then, amid uproar, a voice was heard denouncing the conduct of Members of the Government as "wanting in dignity and decorum." The voice spoke more in sorrow than in anger. There was a tear in every syllable. It was clear that, out of the fulness of a heart crushed with pain at witnessing these unruly proceedings, the mouth spoke. The voice not unfamiliar. All eyes turned to the quarter whence it proceeded. Who could it be that thus added a final reproach to a guilty and trembling Government? Who, in accents trembling with conviction and emotion, convicted it of "lack of decorum and dignity?"

It wasJoseph Gillis!

Business done.—Government secured all remaining days of Session.

Tuesday Night.—"A bad Cass, a very bad Cass," murmured Old Morality, moving uneasily on his seat. It was Seven o'clock. Things certainly looking very bad. At Question-time,Atherly-Jones, who had been watching the case for some time, asked theHome Secretarywhether he had made inquiry into the Regent Street affair, and if so, what was the result?Home Secretaryhad, from the first, blundered hopelessly. When first questioned peremptorily refused to interfere. ThenChamberlaininterposed and backed up claim for inquiry.Matthewswith ludicrous haste knuckled down andgave desired promise. This was on Friday last. Now went back from promise and declined to have anything to do with affair. House evidently angry.Atherly-Jonesmoved adjournment; supported by over a hundred, and debate entered upon.CaineandDoddsstruggled for honour of seconding Motion.Doddswon. Seems MissCass'sfather is one of his constituents and a most respectable man.

On the watch"On the watch."

"Why," cried Member for Stockton with sudden access of energy, "he leads the brass band in the Malleable Iron Works."

That settled it. ThenceforwardMatthewsregarded as a doomed man.Chamberlainmade speech conclusively showing innocence of MissCass. Not only was her father leader of the brass band, but it was clear she had not been out of the house on the nights the policeman swore he saw her in Regent Street.Attorney-Generalcame to rescue of colleague, but movement ineffectual. Old Morality uttered some ponderous commonplaces without avail.Caine, revelling in temporary freedom, lashed theHome Secretary.Grandolph, that pink of chivalry, finding his old friend and colleague down, joyously jumped on him.

"I made him Home Secretary, and when I kicked over the traces of course I expected him to resign with me. But he stuck to office and salary. I said nothing, but I thought the more. Waited for my chance, and here it is."

SoGrandolphproddedMatthewsin the back, buffetted him about the head, and made him begin to wish that he'd resigned long ago. Motion for adjournment of House carried to a Division, and Government defeated by Majority of Five!

"A bad Cass—a very bad Cass!" repeated Old Morality, as he picked up his papers, and went off in unexpectedly good time for dinner.

Business done.—TheHome Secretary's.

Wednesday.—Henry Matthewsspent pleasant quarter of an hour this afternoon.Smithcame down, and surrendered unconditionally in theCasscase. Promised to make the inquiry whichMatthewshad refused.John Dillonsuggested that, in order to save time, Ministers should in future make up their minds what to do before the Division was taken.Matthewssaid nothing. Rather sorry for him. Thought I'd cheer him up a bit.

"Don't take this too much to heart," I said. "Good deal of talk about it just now, but soon be forgotten."

"Take what to heart?" he asked, with pretty air of surprise. "Smithis only confirming what I said when I promised an inquiry."

"But then you refused it afterwards."

"Exactly. So, ifSmithhad come down and refused the inquiry, I would still have been all right. Don't you see?"

I didn't, quite. Perhaps it will come on further reflection.Business done.—Supply.

Thursday.—Came upon curious scene in Lobby this afternoon, just after prayers.F. W. Maclean, Member for Woodstock Division of Oxfordshire, standing at full length near the Post-Office. To him enterGrandolph, making for House, anxious to see howMatthewsis looking to-day.Maclean, drawing himself up another inch, looked down onGrandolph.Grandolph, seizing the situation, half turned round, and looked up at his successor in the re-adjusted representation of Woodstock. Neither spoke; but it was a pretty scene, not needing words.

Past and Present Members for WoodstockPast and Present Members for Woodstock.

GrandolphfoundMatthewson Treasury Bench, looking as if nothing had happened, and as if nothing was going to happen. House curiously crowded, considering. The old story over again, with just a difference in enumeration of the chapter. Hitherto been on Coercion Bill, First Reading, Second Reading, Committee Stage, and Report Stage. Now Third Reading moved.Gladstonebegins it all over again, as if nothing had yet been said. Benches filled to hear him, and no one moved till speech ended in glowing peroration. Then Members, simultaneously struck with conviction that they'd heard this before, streamed out. Rest of Sitting dull talk and empty benches.Business done.—Third Reading of Coercion Bill moved.

Friday.—Coercion Bill through at last! Final bout of talking dull till towards end, whenDillonmade one of his impassioned speeches (wonderfully improved hasJohnsince he first entered House).Harcourtstroked Ministerialist back wrong way; andGoschenreplied in animated speech. One little flash disturbed monotony of earlier part of sitting. Elderly young man, name ofColeridge, trotted out again the mean and spiteful reference to Old Morality's Book-stall connection. O. M., for once moved to anger, hotly resented impertinence.

Haven't we had enough of this now? It wasTim Healybegan it. Not desirable that men without a tithe ofTim'stalent should imitate his ingrained ill-manners.

Business done.—Coercion Bill passed by Majority of 87.

'Twason a summer morning in this tropical July,A happy thought impelled me an experiment to try.Hot early, weather promised to be more hot later on:What were the highest grade the glass would register anon?A delicate thermometer, the Fahrenheit, was mine;I placed it in the solar-beams direct,A.M., at nine.It shortly rose to ninety; and by ten reached twenty more;Eftsoon degrees one-hundred-nine-and-twenty was the score;Glass went on rising near as high as it was marked to go.A hundred, three times ten, and six the highest it could show.Excelsior!asLongfellow'sascending Pilgrim cried;So I began to marvel what was going to betide,Expanding still the spirit rose within, ere noon had past,Till bang went my thermometer, the brittle tube had brast!My old and well-tried servant through ten years in hot or cold,At last it suddenly went smash, a pity to behold,I sat me down and sent thePostthe story of its loss,Take warning all Philosophers my tale who come across!Experimental Science—mind the moral that I sing—Is with a little knowledge in pursuit a parlous thing.

'Twason a summer morning in this tropical July,

A happy thought impelled me an experiment to try.

Hot early, weather promised to be more hot later on:

What were the highest grade the glass would register anon?

A delicate thermometer, the Fahrenheit, was mine;

I placed it in the solar-beams direct,A.M., at nine.

It shortly rose to ninety; and by ten reached twenty more;

Eftsoon degrees one-hundred-nine-and-twenty was the score;

Glass went on rising near as high as it was marked to go.

A hundred, three times ten, and six the highest it could show.

Excelsior!asLongfellow'sascending Pilgrim cried;

So I began to marvel what was going to betide,

Expanding still the spirit rose within, ere noon had past,

Till bang went my thermometer, the brittle tube had brast!

My old and well-tried servant through ten years in hot or cold,

At last it suddenly went smash, a pity to behold,

I sat me down and sent thePostthe story of its loss,

Take warning all Philosophers my tale who come across!

Experimental Science—mind the moral that I sing—

Is with a little knowledge in pursuit a parlous thing.

Head of a ChapterHead of a Chapter.

TheBishops are considering the "Amen-Corner" Amen-ments to the Catechism.Dr. Punchhappening to drop into the Upper House as a cool retreat on a July day, reminded their Lordships of the touching appeal ofLittle Billeewhen he went "down upon his bended knees" to the inhumanGorging JackandGuzzling Jimmy, imploring a short respite in these words:—

"O let me say my CatechismAs my poor mother taught to me."

"O let me say my Catechism

As my poor mother taught to me."

AndMr. P.asked the Upper House to pause before adding another burden to the sorely tried child on a hot Sunday. Also the learned Doctor of Divinity wished to ask why, when amending, is it considered necessary to preserve the prim archaic style of English, which is nowadays only associated with the strictest Quaker, and which is so suggestive of formality and unreality? Why say "What meanest thou," and so forth? It was Puritanical; now it is pedantic. The Bishops agreed withMr. Punch, but the Thermometer being 120°, they adjourned to the "Wholly Shade," adjoining the lawn-tennis ground.

It is pleasant to record how something was done in the House of Laymen. LordNelsonsaid he had received a blow on the head,—from a draught. The President wanted to know if it was a draught of a resolution? LordNelsonexplained that it wasn't. He had alluded to an air-draught. He wished to propound the old theological question, "Cur induit albam Millerus tegulam?" with its answer, "Ut caput servat calidum." ("Hear, hear!") He wished to know whether, for the reason above mentioned, he might wear his hat. The President remarked that he thought it would be out of order if he did. EarlNelsonobserved that he would soon be out of order if he didn't, as he should have a severe cold. Mr.Hubbard, M.P., who is to be made a Peer, with the title of Earl-y-Churchouse, was understood to say that if he wasn't allowed to wear his hat, he knew he should have agravamento-morrow. The President then gave the required permission. Hats are now worn in the House of Laymen.

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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