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This stirs me into something like exertion. Otters and RUDDOCK. RUDDOCK, during a check, setting the field in a roar.

At Breakfast.-"Um," says PENDELL, thinking over something as he cuts a ham, "we shan't want to take anything with us, because Old PENOLVER gives us lunch. He's a picture of an Old English Squire is PENOLVER. Quite a picture of a-um-yes- " here he apparently considers to himself whether he has given a correct definition of PENOLVER or not. He seems satisfied, and closes his account of him by repeating, "Yes-um-yes-an Old English Squire, you know-quite a character in his way," (I thought so,) "and you'll have pasties and cider."


MRS. PENDELL has retired. PENDELL wishes to know what I'll take. Nothing, I thank him. PENDELL doesn't "think-um-that-he 'll-umtake anything," and stands before a row of bottles with the critical air of a Commander-in-Chief reviewing the line. It almost looks as if he wanted a bottle to step out of the rank and invite him to make up his mind at once and take a drop of him. In order not to prevent him from enjoying himself, I sacrifice myself, and say, "Well, I'll have just the smallest glass of whiskey." PENDELL is of opinion that no one can do better than whiskey, it being, he says, the most wholesome spirit. We whiskey. The quarter-past arrives. We take no notice of it, except that PENDELL remarks that that clock is about twelve minutes fast, in which case, of course, we have nearly half an hour at our disposal. Conversation commences. We somehow get upon Literature, especially upon the subject of my Analytical History of Motion. PENDELL quotes a line from somewhere. We can't think where it is to be found. This leads PENDELL to the book-shelves. While he is up, would he mind just mixing me the least drop more whiskey and water, plenty of water. He does so, and continues his search for the book, ending by bringing down the Ingoldsby Legends. "Do I remember this one?" he asks me. No, I have forgotten it. He thinks the line he quoted is there. He is, he says, going to give it at a Penny Reading, and has already done so with great success. He reads a few lines.

"Pasties!" I exclaim. The word recalls Bluff KING HAL's time, the jollifications-by my halidame !-gadso !-crushing a cup, and so forth. Now I have the picture before me (in my mind's eye) of the Old English Squire, attended by grooms bearing pasties and flagons, meeting the Otter Hunters with spears and dogs. Good! Excellent! I feel that My Health will be benefited by the air of the olden time. And perhaps by the pasties.

Flash.-Ask him to read. Nothing so pleasant as the sound of some one reading poetry when you're very tired, and are sitting before a good fire. Light a pipe as an aid to listening comfortably. Better than going to bed. Besides, if he reads, it's his fault that we don't go to bed early, as we told MRS. PENDELL we would.

He reads aloud. I interrupt him occasionally (opening my eyes to do so), just to show I am attending, and twice I dispute the propriety of his emphasis; but I don't sustain my side of the argument, from a feeling that to close my eyes and be droned to sleep, is preferable to straining every nerve in order to talk and keep awake.

Do any ladies come ?" I ask.

"Safe to," answers PENDELL, "last day of hunting-all the ladies out-sort of show meet, and lounge."

Pasties, flagons, dames, gallants with lutes, and pages with beakers of wine. I am all anxiety to start.

The Drive.-Bleak, misty, sharp, dreary. I am in summer costume of flannels, intended for running. Hope we shall have some running, as at present I'm blue with cold and shivering.

Six miles finished.-We get out at a tumble-down roadside inn. Three boys, each one lankier and colder-looking than the other, are standing together with their hands in their pockets, there being evidently among them a dearth of gloves. A rough man in a velveteen coat and leggings appears, carrying a sort of quarter-staff spiked. I connect him at once with otters. PENDELL returns his salute. This is the Huntsman. The three chilly boys are the Field. PENDELL calls a "show meet, and a lounge ?" We are all shivering, and evidently only half awake. Is this what

11 o'clock, P. M.-PENDELL stops, and says, "Why, you're asleep!" I reply that he is mistaken (having, in fact, just been awoke by feeling as if a spring had given way at the nape of my neck), but I own, candidly, to feeling a little tired.

"Um!" says PENDELL, and puts his selection for a Penny Reading away. Bed,

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Flash.-To say brightly, "Well, it couldn't have been colder for with the spear takes it literally and is offended, "because," he says, an otter hunt.' The chilly boys hearing this, turn away, the man thoughtfully. "Um-colder-otter-ha! Yes, I see. I've made we might ha' had a much worse day." PENDELL says to himself, that myself lots of times." I thought that down here, perhaps, it feel it's the only one I've got, preface it by saying, wouldn't have been known. Never risk an old joke again. If I "Of course you've heard what the Attorney-General said the other day to (some one) ?" and then, if on being told, they say, "O! that's very old," why it's not your fault.

Morning. Am aroused by PENDELL, who is always fresh. "Lovely morning," he says, opening the curtains. [Note.-When you're only one quarter awake there's something peculiarly obtrusive in any remark about the beauty of the day. To a person comfortably in bed and wishing to remain there, the state of the weather is comparatively uninteresting, unless it's dismally foggy or thoroughly rainy, when, in either case, you can congratulate yourself upon your cleverness and forethought in not having got up.] "Is it ?" I ask. Through the window I see only mist and drizzle.

"Just the morning for otter-hunting!" exclaims PENDELL, enthusiastically. Then, as he's leaving the room, he turns, and says, "O, by the way, I've just remembered that Old RUDDOCK's pretty sure to be out with the hounds. He's great fun out hunting.'


A fly appears on the road with the Master. He welcomes PENDELL and friend heartily and courteously. Is sorry that it's the last meet. Thinks it's a bad day, and in the most genial manner possible damps all my hopes of seeing an otter. A few weeks ago," he says, "there were plenty of otters." Flash.-To find out if that spearing-picture is correct. Show myself deeply interested in otters.

number two. No spears. We walk on, and get a little warmer. The Master says that spearing is unsportsmanlike. Damper

More "Field" meets us: some mounted.

Note on Otter-Hunting.-Better than fox-hunting, because you trust to your own legs. You can't be thrown, you can't be kicked off, or reared off; and, except you find yourself alone with the otter in a corner, there's no danger.

Note Number Two. Additional.-Yes, there is one other danger. A great one. Here it is:

We have been walking miles along the banks of a stream, crossing difficult stepping-stones, climbing over banks eight feet high [thank goodness, impossible for horses], with drops on the other side, and occasional jumpings down, which shake your teeth, but still you land on your own legs, and if you fall you haven't got a brute on the top of you, or rolling over you, or kicking out your brains with his hind hoofs. We number about sixty in the Field. The shaggy, rough hounds are working up-stream, swimming and trotting, and stopping to examine the surface of any boulder which strikes their noses as having been lately the temporary restingplace of an otter. A few people on horseback are proceeding, slowly in single file, along the bank. Difficult work for them. Ladies, too, are on foot, and all going along as pleasantly as possible. Suddenly a cry-a large dog is seen shaking its head wildly, and rubbing his front paws over his ears-another dog is rolling on the bankanother plunges into the river furiously, also shaking his head as if he was objecting to everything generally, and would rather drown than change his opinions.

Another cry.

Horses plunging-one almost into the river-shrieks of ladiesexclamations from pedestrians-the field is scattered-some attempt to ford the river-some jump right in-some on horseback cross it

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shouting-some plunge into the plantation on the left-some are running back upon us! A panic.

Mad bull, perhaps if so-with admirable presence of mind I jump into the water up to my waist, and am making for the opposite side, when a man, running and smoking a short pipe, answers my question as to the bull with

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MASTER M'GRATH has passed away;
He breathed his last on Christmas Day.
He quitted this terrestrial sphere,
In doghood's prime-his twice-third year.

He was a dog of high repute.
But now he 'Il be for ever mute.
-Though living he gave little tongue-
Ah, well! the dogs we love die young.

MASTER M'GRATH, old Ireland's pride,
The fleetest Saxon dogs defied,
Alike to run with him or kill:

His legs, once limber, now are still.

This peerless paragon of hounds,

Did win his good lord-LURGAN-pounds

By thousands; dog as good as horse-
The canine Courser is a corpse.

He was presented to the QUEEN,
As many a puppy may have been,
Who yet that honour lives to boast-
But is not worth the dog that's lost.
M'GRATH returns to his Dam Earth.
The papers mostly to his worth
Publish a tribute, not too long,
A paragraph-and here's a song.

They won't continue, for a week,
Each day about M'GRATH to speak
In memoirs, and in leading columns,
To preach of prosy sermons volumes.

Upon the Dog defunct that lies
Briefest is best to moralise,

As every dog, then, let us say,
Must have, M'GRATH has had his day.


Happy Dispatch.

WE have just read in a delightful book that "Japanese verse is for the most part lyric or descriptive." It is of two kinds, "Uta," of purely native growth, and "Shi," of Chinese origin and structure. The difference between the Japanese and the English is that nearly all the modern poetry of the latter is Shi.

The Field is pulling itself together again. PENDELL chuckles. 'Did you see Old RUDDOCK ?" he asks. "There were two wasps at him."

No! It appears that Old RUDDOCK has been quite close to me throughout the day. Yet there was no laughing crowd, and I haven't heard one of RUDDOCK's jokes bruited about. Odd. Wonder how the wasps liked RUDDOCK.


"No! Wasps! Wasps' nest!!" In a second I see them. At me. Pursuing me. I dive my head under water. Wet through! Scramble up bank. One wasp is after me. One pertinaciously. My foot catches in a root, I am down. Wasp down too, close at my ear. A minute more I am up. Wasp up too, by my right ear. An Inspiration.-It flashes across me that wasps hate mud. Ar a meeting of Railway Directors, which will probably be held Don't know where I heard it. Think it was in some child's educa- in the middle of next week, it will be resolved, in order to increase tional book. No time for thinking. Jump-squish-into the mud! the safety of the public, that no pointsman, guard, or engineOver my knees boots nearly off. The last thing I see of PENDELL driver, shall ever be on duty much more than six-and-forty hours is holding on his spectacles with his left hand, and fighting a wasp at a stretch; and that every such servant shall always, when on with his stick in his right. Squish-flop-flosh!... Up against a duty, be allowed at least four minutes, no less than three times stump-down in a morass. Wasp at me. Close to my ear as if he daily, for enjoyment of his meals. With the like view of security, wanted to tell me a secret. I won't hear it! Now I understand why it will also be resolved that porters shall on branch lines be required the dog shook his head. Through a bramble bush (like the Man to act as pointsmen, signalmen, and ticket-clerks, and that due and in the Nursery Rhyme, who scratched both his eyes out and in timely notice of the changes in the time-bills shall on no account be again by a similar operation), and come out torn and scratched, furnished to the drivers of goods trains. but dry as a pen after being dragged through a patent wiper of erect bristles. No wasp. Gone. I am free. But still I keep on. That's the only great danger in Otter-Hunting. At least, that I know of at present.

I pick up the man with pipe. Kindest creature in the world. He has two pipes, and he fills and gives me one. He says, "Wasps won't attack a smoker."

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To the Afflicted.

A WORD of comforting advice to all those-and they are manyboth men and women, who are nursing a secret sorrow, grieving that they are short, small of stature, below the average size. Let them think of those more than consolatory words, in that famous passage narrow escape!" in Henry the Eighth, where SHAKSPEARE speaks of-"the blessedness of being little."

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SCENE-Railway Station in a Town where Highland Regiment is quartered. Foxhunters taking Train for the Meet.


Funny Friend. "OF COURSE HE IS."



(By a good Old-fashioned Clown.)

KNOCK at a shop-door, and then lie down flat in front of it, so that the shopman, coming out, may tumble headlong over you. Then bolt into the shop, and cram into your pockets all the big things you can find, so that in trying to get out, you cannot squeeze them through the doorway. For instance, if it be a watchmaker's, clap an eight-day kitchen clock and a barometer or two, let us say, in your right pocket, and a brass warming-pan, or some such little article of jewellery (as you will take care to call it) in your left one; taking pains, of course, to let the handle stick well out of it. If it be a butcher's, pouch a leg of beef and half a sheep or so, and be sure not to forget to bring a yard or two of sausages trailing on the ground behind you. Then, if you can't squeeze through the doorway, the simplest plan will be to jump clean through the shop-front, and in doing this take care to smash as many panes of glass as you are able, crying out, of course, that you took great pains" to do So. En passant, you will kick into the street whatever goods are in the window, and then run off as quickly as your heels can carry




But after a few steps, of course you must take care to let the handle of your warming-pan get stuck between your legs, and trip you up occasionally; and you will manage that your sausages become entangled so about you that, at every second step, you are obliged to tumble down and roll along the ground, and double up into a heap, till the policeman, who keeps up the chace, comes close enough to catch you. Then you will spring up again, and, jumping on his back, you will be carried off to Bow Street, with the small boys shouting after you; or, else, if you prefer it, you may "bonnet" the policeman, and run away and hide yourself ere he can lift his hat up, to see where you are gone to.


SIR CHARLES LYELL, according to a correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, is credited with the saying that there are three things necessary for a geologist: the first is to travel; the second is to travel; and the third, also, is to travel. This seems to mean that your geologist must travel, travel, travel over the face of the earth in order to be enabled to explore its interior. The earth is round; so is your plum-pudding: the earth has a crust; so has your mincepie. Happily, conditions like those needful for the exploration of

If the shopman should pursue you, as most probably he will, make him a low bow, and say that it was really quite an accident, and that of course you mean to pay him-indeed, yes, on your honour!" the earth do not delay analogous researches. If he won't believe you, punch him in the waistcoat, and batter him about with his barometer and warming-pan, or sausages and mutton.

Should a policeman interfere, and want to know what you are up to, catch up your red-hot poker (which you will always have about you), and hold it hidden behind your back, while you beg him to shake hands with you, because you mean to " square the job" with him. Then, when he puts his hand out, slap the poker into it, and run away as fast as your stolen goods will let you.

Problem for the Poet Laureate.

THE Knights of KING ARTHUR'S Round Table of course formed a Circle when they sat round it. Tournaments in general used to come off in lists; but can the Author of The Last Tournament inform a Spiritualist whether, in a séance of ARTHUR'S Knights at Table, there was ever any table-tilting ?

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NEW YEAR'S "NOTE" TO CORRESPONDENTS. MR. PUNCH, in spite of his emphatic and repeated Notices and Explanations, being still copiously afflicted with Communications from Persons whom he has not invited to take the liberty of addressing him, issues the following Note, and advises such persons to study it closely.

He calls them "Correspondents," but does so only for convenience. A Correspondent means a person who not only writes, but to whom the recipient of the letter also writes. Ninety-nine out of a hundred of those who address Mr. Punch are, and will be, unanswered, except by this Note.

Let all understand that he is answerable for the real or supposed value of No literary or artistic matter which may be sent him, unasked. This is law. Let all understand that at the earliest possible moment after his discovery that such matter is useless to him, it is Destroyed. This is fact.

Notice also that stamped and directed envelopes, for the return of such matters, will not operate to the fracture of his rule.

After this notice, 66 Correspondents" will have no one but themselves to thank for the Snub Mr. Punch's silence implies.

But is he unwise enough to believe that the plague of foolish Correspondence will thus be stayed? Verily, no.

He expects to continue to receive

1. Jests that have appeared in his own pages, but which are warranted to have been invented, or heard, "the other day."

2. The jest of the day, one that has been heard a million


3. Profane, and even lower jests, sent by creatures who pretend to be readers of Punch.

4. Idiotic jests, usually laid upon the shoulders of "my little boy," or "my youngest girl." Punch would pity the children of such parents, but that he generally disbelieves in the existence of the innocents.

5. Sketches, to be used in his next without fail, or, if rejected, to be instantly returned. These burn well, and he prefers those on cardboard, as they crackle prettily.

6. Things, literary or artistic, that have been "dashed off." The mere word "dash" is the cue for instant fire. 7. Compositions, poor in themselves, whose insertion is prayed because the authors are poor also. Is Mr. Punch to perform his charities at the expense of society?

8. Aged jokes, possibly recently heard for the first time by the Stupid Sender, but more probably copied from print. 9. Post-Cards, or communications with the Halfpenny Stamp. These are all selected by his Deputy-AssistantUnder-Secretary, and destroyed unread.

10. Absolute Stupidities.


nation in Europe, except Switzerland, in which country the RepubTHE closing night of the Christmas season is observed by every lican form of government introduced by W. TELL (the first President), prevents the recognition of Kings and Queens.

the study of physics is yet in its infancy, great importance is Throughout England, particularly in those rural districts where attached to the weather on Twelfth Day. The occurrence of rain, Borealis over the roofs of the Bank of England is considered a most or wind, or sleet, or snow, or hail, or the appearance of the Aurora which the sowing of the Spring wheat commences. But the slightest favourable augury, and in some counties determines the day on turnip-fly, and the connection of a parhelion with protracted drought indication of the Zodiacal light is dreaded as a sure forerunner of the is established by a long series of observations, reaching as far back as the Reformation.

Most lawyers are of opinion that under the provisions of an old Act of Parliament, still unrepealed, it is illegal to solicit a Christmas box after twelve o'clock on the 6th of January.

If Twelfth Night falls on a Sunday, the harvest will be late; if on a Monday, the back door should be carefully looked to on the long evenings; if on a Tuesday, pilchards will be caught in enormous quantities; if on a Wednesday, the silkworms will suffer; if on a Thursday, there will be no skating on the Serpentine during the rest of the year; if on a Friday, the apple erop will be a failure; and if on a Saturday (as this year), you should on no account have your hair cut by a red-haired man who squints and has relations in the colonies. The sceptic and the latitudinarian may smile superciliously at these predictions, but they have been verified by inquiries conducted at centres as wide apart as Bury St. Edmunds, Rotherham, Dawlish, Rickmansworth, Kirkcudbright, and Cape Clear.

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THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, being thoroughly convinced of the injustice of the Income-tax, is maturing a measure for its total abolition. To prove that he is perfectly sincere in the task he undertakes, he has resolved to throw up office if the tax again be voted.

MR. AYRTON is engaged in studying the Fine Arts, with a view to being able to lecture LORD ELCHO and others on the subject, and also to defend the action of the Government in resisting all attempts to improve the National Gallery.

In the fear lest His Holiness be forced to quit the Vatican, MR. WHALLEY, M.P., has written, very generously, to offer his own residence as an asylum for the POPE, while exiled from his kingdom. It is proposed, at the conclusion of the Tichborne trial, to treat the Judge and Jury to a trip upon the Continent, in order to prevent them from becoming monomaniacs, through having their minds occupied so long with one subject.

It is considered almost certain that M. THIERS will seize a very early opportunity to vacate his seat, as President, in favour either of the COMTE DE PARIS or of M. GAMBETTA.

The game slaughtered at the battues of eleven noble sportsmen (all members of the Legislature), has been carefully distributed among the East-End poor.

It has been ascertained, by an accurate survey in London and the provinces, that no fewer than one pantomime has been produced this season, without containing any humorous allusion to "the Claimant."

MR. GLADSTONE has received one hundred and twelve letters, from Peterborough, Hanwell, Colney Hatch, and other places, asking for a confirmation of the rumour that his great-great-grandmother embraced the Jewish faith.

More than a hundred noble members of the Gun Club have with


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NON omnia possumus omnes; we are not all Popes, nor should we be omnipotent even if we were infallible. The Daily News is a journal of ability; but there is a certain inconsistency, the cause of which it declares itself unable to fathom:

"That all personal allusions to the private lives of individuals should be eschewed on the stage, we readily admit. Indeed, we sympathise with DR. JOHNSON, who, on hearing that FOOTE, the actor, intended to imitate his mien and gestures, inquired the price of a good thick stick; but why, in the name of common sense, when caricatures of MR. GLADSTONE and MR. LOWE weekly appear in humorous journals, and when scarcely a day passes without these gentlemen being attacked in print on account of one or other of their public acts, every harmless joke upon their official doings should be expunged from the pantomimes, surpasses comprehension."

Our excellent contemporary forgets that there is in theatres a place called the Gallery. This place is occupied by a peculiar description of audience and spectators. In the theatre, by physical position, they constitute the higher orders, but in common talk are contrariwise named. Of old, bloated aristocrats were wont ironically to style them "the Gods." Enlightened Statesmen, however, with a just appreciation of their value as British voters, use to call them the People. Now the People of the Gallery are not accustomed to read humorous journals in which caricatures of the People's WILLIAM, and the People's ROBERT, appear weekly. If they were, it would be necessary for the humorous journals to be very careful in caricaturing those popular Ministers, lest caricatures should endanger their popularity. The People of the Gallery are our flesh and blood, but they are as yet uneducated, and apt to take jokes too seriously. If the Clown in a Pantomime were to tread upon a match-box, and get blown up sky-high, or if, assisted by the Pantaloon, he presented a working man in an arsenal with a sack, these performances, to the occupants of the boxes indeed, would be harmless jokes, but the effect produced by them in the electoral way would probably be mischievous, in a gallery filled with friends and relations of match-venders and dockyard labourers.

The Best Tonic.

THE Doctors disapprove of alcohol, but they are as alive as ever to the cheering effect of " good spirits" on their patients.

drawn their names this season, and have transferred their subscriptions to the Humane Society.

Among the measures likely to be introduced by Government are: (1) a Bill for the Reduction of the Prices charged by Butchers; (2) a Bill to Compel Londoners to Clean their Streets in Dirty Weather; and (3) a Bill to Disafforest Primrose Hill and the Brighton Cliffs and Racecourse.

The First Lord of the Admiralty has been taking a few lessons in political navigation, with the view, upon emergency, of taking chief command of the vessel of the State.

It is considered highly probable that, following the good example of some Dramatic Managers, certain Barristers and Doctors in the very highest practice intend to decorate their waiting-rooms with little placards of "NO FEES!"


Is there not a bit of SYDNEY SMITH'S, wherein that divine, describing a Scottish rising against English tyranny, says that SAWNEY betook himself to the heather, and, having scratched himself with one hand, and cast up an account with the other, suddenly waxed furious, and drew his sword? We hope that certain Transatlantic friends of ours will not bring in so tremendous a bill against us, as to make it cheaper for us to fight than to pay. For we love them very much, but we are obliged to be awfully economical in these Gladstonian days.

Mathematical Intelligence.

Ir would puzzle a Senior Wrangler to find out how to square a circle. Yet TOMKINS Junior says that, though he is only twelve years old, he will back himself on any given morning to get round a square.

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