JUPITER TONANS!

To nurse our stricken Soldiers! Nobler task,Or more ennobling, can our Sisters ask?Whilst stout hearts suffer, soft ones shall not failIn selfless readiness to soothe and save,Sharing the tribute rendered by the braveToFlorence Nightingale.Her sex's strong and sweet exemplar, sheMust surely send across the orient seaTo "Nora Roberts," as a kindred heart,Message of warm good-will. And we at homeFor whom our soldiers fight, and watch, and roam,Shall we not do our part?'Tis sad to think that in that burning land,For lack of ministry from woman's hand,Strong men and gallant boys have sunk and died.Gladdening to hear that Nursing Sisters now,To cool hot lips and ease pain-fevered brow,Will seek our Soldiers' side.But who shall nurse the Nurses? When the strainOf ministry on India's torrid plainBrings the fatigue that, long-neglected, kills,They'll need, as health-resorts whereto to send,For rest restorative, the soldiers' friend,Homes in the cooler hills.For these the Lady of our gallant Chief,Whose brilliant march brought Candahar relief,Pleads to a public whom that honoured nameAlone should stir to sympathy and aid.Help for the Helpers!Punchis not afraidThatplea will miss its aim!

To nurse our stricken Soldiers! Nobler task,

Or more ennobling, can our Sisters ask?

Whilst stout hearts suffer, soft ones shall not fail

In selfless readiness to soothe and save,

Sharing the tribute rendered by the brave

ToFlorence Nightingale.

Her sex's strong and sweet exemplar, sheMust surely send across the orient seaTo "Nora Roberts," as a kindred heart,Message of warm good-will. And we at homeFor whom our soldiers fight, and watch, and roam,Shall we not do our part?

Her sex's strong and sweet exemplar, she

Must surely send across the orient sea

To "Nora Roberts," as a kindred heart,

Message of warm good-will. And we at home

For whom our soldiers fight, and watch, and roam,

Shall we not do our part?

'Tis sad to think that in that burning land,For lack of ministry from woman's hand,Strong men and gallant boys have sunk and died.Gladdening to hear that Nursing Sisters now,To cool hot lips and ease pain-fevered brow,Will seek our Soldiers' side.

'Tis sad to think that in that burning land,

For lack of ministry from woman's hand,

Strong men and gallant boys have sunk and died.

Gladdening to hear that Nursing Sisters now,

To cool hot lips and ease pain-fevered brow,

Will seek our Soldiers' side.

But who shall nurse the Nurses? When the strainOf ministry on India's torrid plainBrings the fatigue that, long-neglected, kills,They'll need, as health-resorts whereto to send,For rest restorative, the soldiers' friend,Homes in the cooler hills.

But who shall nurse the Nurses? When the strain

Of ministry on India's torrid plain

Brings the fatigue that, long-neglected, kills,

They'll need, as health-resorts whereto to send,

For rest restorative, the soldiers' friend,

Homes in the cooler hills.

For these the Lady of our gallant Chief,Whose brilliant march brought Candahar relief,Pleads to a public whom that honoured nameAlone should stir to sympathy and aid.Help for the Helpers!Punchis not afraidThatplea will miss its aim!

For these the Lady of our gallant Chief,

Whose brilliant march brought Candahar relief,

Pleads to a public whom that honoured name

Alone should stir to sympathy and aid.

Help for the Helpers!Punchis not afraid

Thatplea will miss its aim!

JUPITER TONANS!JUPITER TONANS!

Sir,—The plan of your Correspondent, "A Doubtful Sailor," who alleges that he avoids sea-sickness by drinking two bottles of Champagne before starting, and then goes on board accompanied by his Family Doctor, who administers alternately nitrous oxide gas and ginger beer to him every ten minutes till the passage is over, though no doubt an efficacious preventive, strikes me as less simple than the means I invariably employ to secure a comfortable crossing. They are easily available, and are as follows. Before I start I provide myself with a six-foot mattrass, several yards of rope, and four screw-hooks, which, the moment I enter the cabin, I proceed with a large gimlet to fasten to the ceiling, and, before the Steward or passengers have had time to protest, I have rigged myself up a capital swinging bed in the very centre of the vessel. To jump in, occupy it, and keep officials at bay with an umbrella, only needs a little nerve and practice, and when once fairly out of port, specially ifitbe rough, one is not very easily dislodged. In the course of thirteen passages, I have only been overturned eleven times, in nine of which I was cut down by order of the Captain; and though on several occasions, through clinging to the swinging-lamp, I brought it down in the struggle, and had to pay for the damage, I can confidently recommend any one who has a horror of the Channel crossing, and does not mind a brisk physical encounter with three Stewards, the First Mate, and half the crew of one of the Folkestone and Boulogne boats, to follow my example.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

Abaft the Funnel.

Sir,—"One who Hasn't Yet Done It," wants to know how, travelling with only one ticket, he can secure an entire third-class compartment for the whole journey to himself. I will tell him. Let him install himself in his quarters taking with him five full life-sized lay-figures dressed in old great-coats with hats pulled down over their ears and eyes, and let him arrange these picturesquely about the carriage in attitudes indicative of the suffering of much internal torture. Then let him stand at the window with a genial and good-humoured expression on his face, and pointing over his shoulder to the scene behind him, explain briefly to any passengers who are thinking of entering, that he is travelling with "five aged uncles in the last stage of delirium from a contagious and infectious fever," and he will find they will instantly desist from their efforts and hurry to another portion of the train. To carry out this littlerusesuccessfully it may be sometimes necessary to wink at the ticket-collector and give him threepence, but this does not follow as a matter of course. The plan will be found to work excellently on comparatively short excursions to the sea-side, during which people sent in search of health are necessarily anxious to avoid anything approaching to the risk of contagion. For longer distances, such as a journey to the North for instance, there is nothing like travelling with an Indian Chief, and if possible, with a hyæna. The appearance of the former in gleaming paint and feathers brandishing a tomahawk and uttering wild war-whoops at every station, will be sure to prevent the intrusion of women with babies, while even a country farmer, on seeing the hyæna emerge from under the seat, and on your remarking smilingly, "He isn't muzzled, but I don't think he'll bite," will be likely to select some other compartment. I have travelled from King's Cross to Inverness several times under the above conditions, and except on one occasion at Perth, where the hyæna got loose andeatthirteen half-crown breakfasts, for which I had to pay, and on one other at Edinburgh, when the Indian Chief scalped a ticket-collector by mistake, I have never met with any sort ofcontretemps, but enjoyed the journey in comfort, and kept the carriage the whole way entirely to myself. At this season of the year when so many who are off "for the grouse," think twice before putting their hands into their pockets for the exorbitant fare of a journey first-class, my method of securing all its comfort at half the cost, may possibly find some votaries willing to profit by my experience. Such as it is, it is thus freely placed at their disposal.

By yours inventively,

There and Back.

Sir,—Your Correspondent, a "Stifled Invalid," wants to know how, in these days of ill-drained and ill-ventilated lodgings, he can secure a breath of fresh sea-air without the risk of being prostrated by a local fever, or poisoned by sewer gas. His course is simple enough. He has only to do as I have done. Let him get a furniture-van (if he is a married man with a family, he will want more—I have five), and hire a traction-engine to drag him to some well-known watering-place, and deposit him on the Pier. I have tried the experiment, as yet, with every prospect of success. Here am I, with my five vans, well installed at the end of the Pier of a well-known fashionable health resort, the band playing twice a day, with the fresh air blowing all about me, and the sea surrounding me on every side. We managed to get on when the man who takes the tickets was away having his dinner. The situation is quite delightful, and but for the fact that all the local Authorities have commenced proceedings against me, and that there was a slight riot last night during an ineffectual attempt made by six-and-thirty cart-horses to move me on to the Marine Parade, I have every reason to be satisfied with the result of my experiment. I am living rent free, and, beyond the cost of a family ticket for the Pier, which, though it is disputed by the Committee, I insist gives me a right to have my vans on as well, have, as yet, been put to no expense whatever. There was a report that the Local Fire Brigade had resolved, in the event of my not moving off, to force me to do so by "pumping" me out, but I am loth to believe this. Meantime we are having some excellent fishing with a lawn-tennis net. The traction-engine is to call for me in a month. Strongly recommending my "Plan of Campaign" to a "Stifled Invalid," I beg to subscribe myself, your obedient servant,

No Land Lubber.

Question.I believe you are a very rapid reader of fiction?

Answer.Certainly. My average rate is three and a half volumes a day. This gives me plenty of time for meals, sleep and skipping.

Through Booking, First-Class and otherwise.Through Booking, First-Class and otherwise.

Through Booking, First-Class and otherwise.

Q.Do you skip a great deal?

A.A very great deal. For instance, I have skipped about two-thirds ofIsa, by the Editor of theNorth-Eastern Daily Gazette, in spite of it being only in a couple of volumes, and containing for an introduction the following rather lengthy sentence:—"If the devil were in a laughing mood, what could seem more grimly humorous to him than the vision of a fair young spirit striving consciously after ethereal perfection, but overweighted unconsciously by the bonds and fetters of human infirmity and passion, and dragged at last headlong down the abysmal descent to perdition?" "Abysmal" is good—very good.

Q.Well, and what of the book itself?

A.Chiefly horrors. Nightmare after a pork-chop supper I fancy.Nelly Jocelyn(Widow), is a welcome contrast. One of the best things MissJean Middlemasshas done. The character ofPaul Cazaletcapitally drawn and foreign local colouring admirable.

Q.What do you think ofHis Own Enemy?

A.Fancy the title somehow must refer to the Author. Clerical sketches full of unconscious humour. Two volumes butverybig ones. Quite a relief to get toA False Start,—byHawley Smart, which is most entertaining. But in this case the name of the Author is a safe guarantee for something worth reading.

Q.What do you think ofA Modern Circe?

A.I fancy it is not quite so good asMolly Brown, by the same Author.

Q.What do you know ofMolly Brown?

A.Nothing—I have not read it.

Q.What have you to say aboutScamp?

A.That it is by the Author ofThe Silent Shadow, which I fancy must be the sequel of another novel calledThe Garrulous Ghost. In the first chapter the heroineScamp, (a young lady) is discovered up a tree from which coign of vantage she throws a yellow-paper-covered novel at the gardener's head.

Q.The first chapter then must be vastly entertaining?

A.Vastly. I am absolutely dying to read the chapters that follow it, and will—some day.

Q.What isBrother or Loverabout?A.I don't know—do you?

Q.This is trifling! Pray describeOut of Tune.

A.Ought to have been calledOut of Paganini—founded upon that distinguished fiddler's life, although (as the Author says) "it is necessarily speculative as to its details."

Q.Have you readIn the King's Service?

A.Some of it. Fancy it deals with the Peninsular War.

Q.How aboutJill and Jack?

A.Book I imagine written before the title. Rather hard work to get up the hill which ends with the last chapter.

Q.What isHidden in my Heart?

A.Seemingly the words which finish the third volume, "It is two years now sinceHubertdied, and to-morrow is my second wedding-day."

Q.Is this the first novel that the Authoress has written?

A.Oh dear no. She has also publishedOut of Eden,Quite True, and a book which apparently refers to the late-in-life "finishing" of an uneducated ecclesiastic calledThe Vicar's Governess.

Q.Don't you think that you are rather hard upon the novelists?

A.I hope not. I am sure I owe them a deep, deep debt of gratitude.

Q.How so?A.Without them I should be a victim to insomnia.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE VERY DRY WEATHER.A REMINISCENCE OF THE VERY DRY WEATHER.Secretary to Water-Works."Tut-t-t-t. 'Getting very serious, y'know! If this Drought continues, I don't know what we——"Friend."Look here,—can't you turn on some Whiskey in the service? My dear Fellow, it would infallibly prevent Waste!"

Secretary to Water-Works."Tut-t-t-t. 'Getting very serious, y'know! If this Drought continues, I don't know what we——"

Friend."Look here,—can't you turn on some Whiskey in the service? My dear Fellow, it would infallibly prevent Waste!"

"BaronH. de Wormsinformed Mr.Lawson, that the Board of Trade had communicated with some of the Railway Companies as to the nuisance caused to the inhabitants of the Metropolis by the constant use of railway whistles at night, and the Board were assured that every effort would be made to reduce the nuisance."—Parliamentary Report.

When one is tired or ill,And fain asleep would be,A whistle loud and shrillOft brings the "big, big D.""De Worms," youngLawsonsaid,"This whistling is a bore.""All right," says the Baron; "don't you be afraid.They'll whistle at night no more.""I've lived a long time, Baron,"SaysPunch, "in the world, my dear,But of a nuisance settledat once,I never yet did hear.Yet if you'll lessen nocturnal shines,And let us sleep or think,Your jolly good health all the commonwealthIn a bumper deep will drink."

When one is tired or ill,

And fain asleep would be,

A whistle loud and shrill

Oft brings the "big, big D."

"De Worms," youngLawsonsaid,

"This whistling is a bore."

"All right," says the Baron; "don't you be afraid.

They'll whistle at night no more."

"I've lived a long time, Baron,"SaysPunch, "in the world, my dear,But of a nuisance settledat once,I never yet did hear.Yet if you'll lessen nocturnal shines,And let us sleep or think,Your jolly good health all the commonwealthIn a bumper deep will drink."

"I've lived a long time, Baron,"

SaysPunch, "in the world, my dear,

But of a nuisance settledat once,

I never yet did hear.

Yet if you'll lessen nocturnal shines,

And let us sleep or think,

Your jolly good health all the commonwealth

In a bumper deep will drink."

Eccentric Conduct of a Journalist on the Spree.—The Editor of the BerlinEchohas offered a prize for the best Poem in praise of the Mother-in-Law. This singular demand proves that the gentleman cannot be married.

If thus Penny Papers are freely allowedTo fling right and left their absurd imputations,To find a new name for the quill-driving crowdWill surely be one of our first obligations.The Penny-a-Liner for long has been knownAs a genial gusher, a fine phrase-refiner;But now that he false and malignant has grown,We must call him "The Penny Maligner."

If thus Penny Papers are freely allowed

To fling right and left their absurd imputations,

To find a new name for the quill-driving crowd

Will surely be one of our first obligations.

The Penny-a-Liner for long has been known

As a genial gusher, a fine phrase-refiner;

But now that he false and malignant has grown,

We must call him "The Penny Maligner."

"The Hessian Fly is causing great alarm amongst the agriculturists. Its extinction is attracting the attention of the Faculty."—Daily Paper.

Catching Perch with a Fly.Catching Perch with a Fly.

Catching Perch with a Fly.

Now we number the PotatoBeetle 'mong the scares gone by;But a cuss has found its way toFields of corn—the Hessian Fly.Unde derivatur"Hessian"?Named from whence the fly had flown,Under quite a wrong impression,No such thing in Hesse's known.Cecidomyia destructor,(What long names have little things!)Comes o'er Ocean by conductor;Straw, pestiferous,pupæ, brings.They turn, each, into a small gnat,Not a blow-fly, bottle-blue;Cecidomyia,vulgò, gall-gnat,Galls both growths and growers too.So the Farmers, full of trouble,Help imploring go about,They are told to burn the stubble;No way else to stamp it out.True theChalcisis reputed,On the Gall-gnat's grub to feed;But, for service to be suited,How that parasite can they breed?Yet there is a vermin-killer,Like to thin the dipterous pest,To the farmer and the miller,Which instruction may suggest.What may be, the question narrows,If they doubt they can but try,Is, if let alone, the sparrowsMight keep down the Hessian Fly.

Now we number the Potato

Beetle 'mong the scares gone by;

But a cuss has found its way to

Fields of corn—the Hessian Fly.

Unde derivatur"Hessian"?

Named from whence the fly had flown,

Under quite a wrong impression,

No such thing in Hesse's known.

Cecidomyia destructor,(What long names have little things!)Comes o'er Ocean by conductor;Straw, pestiferous,pupæ, brings.They turn, each, into a small gnat,Not a blow-fly, bottle-blue;Cecidomyia,vulgò, gall-gnat,Galls both growths and growers too.

Cecidomyia destructor,

(What long names have little things!)

Comes o'er Ocean by conductor;

Straw, pestiferous,pupæ, brings.

They turn, each, into a small gnat,

Not a blow-fly, bottle-blue;

Cecidomyia,vulgò, gall-gnat,

Galls both growths and growers too.

So the Farmers, full of trouble,Help imploring go about,They are told to burn the stubble;No way else to stamp it out.True theChalcisis reputed,On the Gall-gnat's grub to feed;But, for service to be suited,How that parasite can they breed?

So the Farmers, full of trouble,

Help imploring go about,

They are told to burn the stubble;

No way else to stamp it out.

True theChalcisis reputed,

On the Gall-gnat's grub to feed;

But, for service to be suited,

How that parasite can they breed?

Yet there is a vermin-killer,Like to thin the dipterous pest,To the farmer and the miller,Which instruction may suggest.What may be, the question narrows,If they doubt they can but try,Is, if let alone, the sparrowsMight keep down the Hessian Fly.

Yet there is a vermin-killer,

Like to thin the dipterous pest,

To the farmer and the miller,

Which instruction may suggest.

What may be, the question narrows,

If they doubt they can but try,

Is, if let alone, the sparrows

Might keep down the Hessian Fly.

Bless his 'Art.—If there is anything in a name, the recently suggested appointment ofArtin Effendias Turkish Commissioner at Sofia ought to mean something. Certainly the situation is one demanding the exercise of no little diplomatic art. But the question is, whether the proposed Commissioner has got, asRobertwould put it, hisart inthe business. There's the point.

A Pretty Kettle of Fish.—The Riots at Ostend.

Pilled at the Club.Pilled at the Club.

Pilled at the Club.

Good-bye dinner, good-bye lunch,Good-bye turtle, good-bye punch,Good-bye jambon soaked in cham.,Good-bye venison, cutlets lamb,Good-bye salmon, smelts, and sole,Good-byeHeidsieck'sMonopole,Good-bye hock, sauterne, and sherry,Good-bye all that makes me merry,Good-bye liqueurs,petite verre,Good-bye Sauceau Vin Madère,Good-bye all these joys of life,Good-bye fork, and good-bye knife,Good-bye all I take when out,Good-byethenthis twinge of gout!

Good-bye dinner, good-bye lunch,

Good-bye turtle, good-bye punch,

Good-bye jambon soaked in cham.,

Good-bye venison, cutlets lamb,

Good-bye salmon, smelts, and sole,

Good-byeHeidsieck'sMonopole,

Good-bye hock, sauterne, and sherry,

Good-bye all that makes me merry,

Good-bye liqueurs,petite verre,

Good-bye Sauceau Vin Madère,

Good-bye all these joys of life,

Good-bye fork, and good-bye knife,

Good-bye all I take when out,

Good-byethenthis twinge of gout!

Worth Notice.—There is this slight difference between the conventional Yankee and the average Home Ruler, that whilst the former swears "by Gum," the latter swears by G. O. M.

"The Story of a Kiss."—(A "Novel" Reading.)—Kiss and tell! For shame!

THE LATE PARLIAMENTARY HARVEST.THE LATE PARLIAMENTARY HARVEST.(Facsimile of Sketch by Our Out-of-Town Special.)

(Facsimile of Sketch by Our Out-of-Town Special.)

House of Commons, Monday August 22.—Peers at last face the inevitable. As records have shown there has been for week or two no work for them to do. Still, they have eased their tender consciences by assembling to seeHalsburytake the Woolsack. (Always a pleasing spectacle. Innate grace ofLord Chancellorcomes out in every step and gesture.) To-night there was, as usual, nothing to do; but Noble Lords really could not again make believe that Nation could not get on without them. So stayed away, and for one night House of Lords abolished.

In Commons at hour for commencing public business barely a quorum present. Both Front Bench and Treasury Bench vacant.George Balfour, always ready to throw himself into breach, took possession of seat of Leader of Opposition, and calmly gazed across table. Never should it be said as long as he had seat in House that Liberals were as sheep without a shepherd. Few Members on back benches visibly brightened up at sight of veteran volunteer.

Only a few questions, but unwonted difficulty in getting through them. Some cases the questioner not present. In others Minister addressed not yet arrived.McArthurhad question down pretty early in list.Speakercalled upon him. No response. Went on to next question. Quarter of an hour later, all other questions run through.McArthurcoming in put his question to Parliamentary Secretary for Foreign Affairs.Fergusson, who had also just arrived, supposing thatMcArthurhad put question in due course, apologised to him for not having been in his place; whereat House laughed uproariously. Very grateful in these times for anything that looks like joke.

P. Stanhopebrought under notice of Home Secretary case of enterprising parish constable in North Hunts. P.C., a supporter of Her Majesty's Government, resented Liberal candidate presenting himself before constituency. Determined he should not be heard. Brought down enormous rattle; swung it about throughout candidate's speech.Joseph Gillispricked up his ears. What a notion this would be for adaptation to Parliamentary usage! Suppose he had rattle and swung it whilstSaundersonorJohnstonwere speaking? Will consultSpeakeras to how far this would be in order.Home Secretarydeclined to be responsible for either parish constable or his rattle.

Business done.—Votes on Supply.

Tuesday.—Lords sat ten minutes to-night. Home to dinner, with sense of deserving well of country.

Commons at work again in Supply. Considered Vote for Science and Art Department, South Kensington.Cavendish-Bentinckcontributed one or two speeches of great interest. Thin attendance, and prevalent air of lassitude. But, whilst on legs, C.-B. riveted attention. Very indignant with neglect of Art in common life. Old Members accustomed to Right Hon. Gentleman's little trick, ofwhich he is sole repository. But new Members tremble, and grow pale, as, when denouncing any person or practice, Right Hon. Gentleman mysteriously raises his hair till it stands on end. Once this phenomenon came about when he denounced certain weighing-machines, which, he said, had recently been put up at London railway stations. Tops of this machine, he said, were supported by two columns, one supposed to be Ionic, and the other Doric.

"As matter of fact," saidC.-B., his hair slowly uprising, "they're neither one thing nor the other, but simply German!"

As he spoke, fixed fiery eye onHome Secretary. Matthews, so accustomed to be badgered, and feeling his perfect innocence in this respect, shook his head. Phenomenon witnessed again whenBentinckdiscovered that picture, bought atChristie'sfor 120 guineas, subsequently sold to National Gallery for 400. Hair rose in angry protest.

Business done.—Thirteen Votes passed.

Thursday.—Dreary wilderness of House of Commons blossomed to-night like a rose-garden. Yesterday, and for days before, empty benches and a fagged remnant wrestling with routine votes. To-night House crowded, and buzz of excitement filled chamber.Gladstonegoing to move hostile Resolution on Government proposal to proclaim Land League. Every Member in town early in his place. Members from afar arrived post haste. EvenRandolph, temporarily returns. Old Morality smiles ghastly smile of welcome, but knees tremble as he wonders whatRandolphmeans to do. TheO'Gorman Mahonback again,Parnellhaving elected him for Carlow County. The old boy as young as ever, and full of reminiscences of his early Parliamentary career, which goes back immeasurable distance.

C. Br-dl-gh.C. Br-dl-gh.

C. Br-dl-gh.

"Ah," he said, looking at the Mace, "there it is agin. I remimber well the afternoon—we always sat in the afternoon thin—whenCromwellcame down, and said, 'Take away that bauble, ye spalpeens, or I'll make it worse for ye.' I was younger then,Tobyme bhoy, indade quite a young man."

Old boy's limp is, I fancy, getting better. He has suffered it for some years now. Seems that one day towards the close of last centuryBurkeflung dagger on floor of House by way of peroration. Weapon rebounded, and struck TheMahonon the instep. If you step into the lavatory with him, he'll show you the scar.

"A mere thrifle, a mere thrifle, acushla! They were lively bhoys when I was in me proime."

Gladstonein fine form and excellent voice. Honoured occasion by donning one of his biggest collars and a new necktie. Curious proof of his persuasiveness how he gradually talked his necktie round till knot rested under left ear.Balfoursquealed forth his disapprobation for upwards of an hour. Rather a pitiful spectacle, the more so by reason of the contrast.

"He should try to avoid immediately followingGladstone," saidRandolph, looking down contemptuously at his former friend.

Best speeches after first,longo intervallo, wereBradlaugh'sandRobertson's, the Scotch Solicitor-General. Conservatives quite forgotten their old animosity to Member for Northampton. As for Parnellites, cheer him madly as they doParnell. CertainlyBradlaughhas acquired House of Commons' manner. Speeches in good style and full of point.

Quite a treat to hear such speech asRobertson'sfrom Treasury Bench. Mem. for Markiss. Why not double his salary, and let him speak fromMatthews'sbrief, and, above all, fromBalfour's?

Business done.—Debate on Proclamation of National League.

Friday.—Amphibious old Warrior, who has been Admiral afloat, Generalissimo ashore, and is now Member for County Carlow, reappeared to-night, and took oath. It was a moving scene. Old veteran got up in rather young-looking costume, light tweed, with white waistcoat, in cut what young beau of twenty might wear.

"Why, Colonel," saidCyril Flower, a judge of these things, "you look younger than ever in your new suit!"

Lord H-rt-ngt-n's attitude towardsLord H-rt-ngt-n's attitude towards Mr. Gl-dst-ne.

Lord H-rt-ngt-n's attitude towards Mr. Gl-dst-ne.

"New, bedad," says TheMahon, "why I had 'em made to go to the wedding ofWilliamandMary. All Mimbers of Parliament invoited; special seats in Abbey; and, what's more, a good luncheon atBellamy's. Haven't worn suit lately; thought it would do for this festive occasion."

TheMahon'sadvance to table to take oath a triumphal progress. Members on both sides cheered like mad. The Colonel stopped half way, and, facing friends and countrymen, blew them a kiss from tips of fingers. Turning to Ministerialists, who joined in applause he bowed gracefully. Clerks had greatest difficulty in convoying him toSpeaker'sChair. Broke away from escort, and shook hands with Old Morality. No joke when TheMahonshakes hands. Pumps away violently for several moments, as if ship were leaking, and all depended on him. Next got hold ofBalfour, and avenged long woes of Ireland. At last got atSpeaker. Thought he'd never let go. Pumped away till theSpeakerhad hardly breath to call "Order! order!" Finally flopped himself down next toGladstone, on Front Bench, and gave him fearful shaking up.

This, liveliest episode in debate. Some pretty good speaking, but everyone sick to death of topic.

A little movement of interest whenHartingtonrose; but happiest moment when bell rang, and Division actually at hand. Business done.—Proclamation of Land League approved.

A bee, or not a bee? That is the question.Whether 'twere better not to mind, and sufferThe stings that every summer are our portion,Or take the trouble but to move an arm,And, by opposing, end them. It flies—it creeps,It creeps, perchance it stings! Then comes the rub,When we have shuffled off our clothing. Soft,'Twas but a bluebottle! How sweet it isTo lie like this i' the sun, and think of noughtSave how sweet 'tis to lie, and think of nought;And that meseems to many wordy sagesWere small refreshment in this windy time.How many are there who do cheat themselves,And with themselves the many, that they areThe very vaward leaders of the fray,The lictors of the pomp of intellect.Whereas they are the merest driven spray,The running rabble heralding the marchImpelled by what they herald;—Who ever glance behind to see which way——Oh, my prophetick soul! my AuntEliza![He is stung!

A bee, or not a bee? That is the question.

Whether 'twere better not to mind, and suffer

The stings that every summer are our portion,

Or take the trouble but to move an arm,

And, by opposing, end them. It flies—it creeps,

It creeps, perchance it stings! Then comes the rub,

When we have shuffled off our clothing. Soft,

'Twas but a bluebottle! How sweet it is

To lie like this i' the sun, and think of nought

Save how sweet 'tis to lie, and think of nought;

And that meseems to many wordy sages

Were small refreshment in this windy time.

How many are there who do cheat themselves,

And with themselves the many, that they are

The very vaward leaders of the fray,

The lictors of the pomp of intellect.

Whereas they are the merest driven spray,

The running rabble heralding the march

Impelled by what they herald;—

Who ever glance behind to see which way——

Oh, my prophetick soul! my AuntEliza!

[He is stung!

In connection with the establishment, thanks chiefly to the munificence of LadyBurdett-Couttsand the Duke ofNorfolk, at Baltimore (Cork) of a New Industrial Fishery School to the end of teaching the fishermen there how to make the most of their hauls, theTimes, as one example of the need of that instruction for those toilers of the Sea, very justly observes that "their ignorance of the art of curing fish causes them endless loss." The hap of Kill or Cure may be hazarded by physicians, but the practice of fishermen should be to kill and cure too—kill first and cure afterwards. Sure, no Irishman can fail to see the force of that. An Irish peasant sometimes when his pig is poorly, kills the animal, as he says, to save its life, whereby, of course, he means, to save his bacon. Fishermen should be up to curing all fish that are curable—except—they are not bootmakers—the cure of soles!

'Putting the Carte before the Hoarse.'"Putting the Carte before the Hoarse."

"Putting the Carte before the Hoarse."

finger pointing

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