TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!

"Ir is generally supposed that another vacancy will be created, ere long, on the Treasury Bench. The option, it is said, has been presented to MR. AYRTON of a foreign appointment, lucrative in pay and important in character."-London Correspondent of the Manchester Guardian.

LET me draw my breath a moment! There the happy tidings are!
Is it true? No mere club, let's hope, or mere smoking-room canard.
Is the Noble Savage going, from the realm where wild he ran,
Rending artists, ruffling Members, unendurable to man?

Happy Clerks, fling up your beavers; Sec and Under-sec be gay;
Meekly, Messengers, make merry, as his shadow rolls away:
Blighted Arts, spring up, rejoicing, in the hope of better days;
Smooth, M.P.'s, the ruffled feathers 'twas his privilege to raise!
Only, THWAITES, wail a Philistine worthy of thy Board of Works:
Lower even than its LOWMAN*, more a Tartar than its Turks:
Cunninger "how not to do it," than the most do-nothing there
Scorning taste, and showing temper, in the shade of THWAITES's
chair.

Artists, whom he snubbed and sat on; deputations, whom he riledQuestioners of Friday questions, on whose heads his scorn he piled.

All who in the House of Commons had to face his vicious fling-
All whom, out of it, his joy was on their marrow-bones to bring-
All to whom he has imputed meaner motives than they knew-
All on whom he has cast insult, where his best respect was due-
All whom he has rubbed against the hair, and asked to kiss the rod-
All whose raws he has cayenned; all on whose corns he has trod-

See the words of MR. LoWMAN TAYLOR in the discussions of the Metropolitan Board of Works, passim. This gentleman may be called the AYRTON of Spring Gardens.

Painters, architects, and sculptors, landscape gardeners,-one and all,
On whose arts and occupations he has let his vitriol fall-
All who seek to clothe the bareness of this Babylon of brick,
And mask ugliness with beauty, if but skin-deep and inch thick-
Sursum corda! AYRTON's going! From the Board he's to be pulled,
Where, square peg round hole misfitting, what he meddled with he
mulled;

Where an owl of penny-wisdom and pound-foolishness he ruled, Scoffed at things beyond his vision, and his betters snubbed and schooled.

Even Lowe hath taken pity: had not he too felt the pain?
Even GLADSTONE has admitted all cheeseparing is not gain:
That candle-ends may cost too much in the shape of row and raw:
That you may pay too dear for brass, and concede too much to jaw.

THE BOOMPJE PAPERS.

OоCH, when on French soil, is very much annoyed at being taken for anything else but a Frenchman. Indeed this is Gooch's peculiarity everywhere abroad. He has no desire when in Holland to be thought a Dutchman, but he is immensely pleased when the Dutch waiters address him as "Moshoo," and flatters himself that there isn't a trace of the Britannic Islander in him. In Holland and Germany he is strong in his French, even to substituting it occasionally for English. But in Belgium he is more diffident of speech, excessively polite, and full of action.

As to Lille and Ghent, this being previous to the Great Boompje declaration at Rotterdam, suffice it to record the following facts:That being interested in the town of Lille, GoоCH asks BUND, who passes it on to the Secretary, if Lille wasn't a very celebrated city. The Secretary replies, Yes.

GoоCH asks what for?

who thinks it was something to do with wars, but he will tell JöMP to The Secretary passes this back to BUND the Commodore eating ices, get his Murray out of the fly. Gooch implores him not to: he says it's so touristy: so English. Ask the waiter.

The waiter doesn't know that Lille is particularly celebrated for anything: except perhaps the shop where he is, and its ices. Fortifications" suggests Secretary.

"Yes, fortifications," returns the waiter, shrugging his shoulders depreciatingly.

Thread? asks BUND.

GOOCH calls the French language so expressive." His idea is practically illustrated by his seldom finish

ing a sentence, even if he gets half through it correctly (which is wonderful), but attempting to convey the remainder of his meaning by a shrug and a look. This is quite satisfactory to a foreigner, he says, who understands as much from this expressive pantomime as he does from the previous conversation. BUND and the rest assent to this as highly probable, seeing that, on one occasion, when GooCH returned from talking with a Frenchman with the intelligence that "he had found him (the Frenchman) a very pleasant fellow, full of information; " and that he (GOOCH) "had picked up a good many valuable hints in answer to his questions," we found the French gentleman in a state of utter bewilderment as to "what language your friend (GooсH) had been talking, as he (the Frenchman) hadn't understood one single word he'd been saying."

MAULLIE is as decidedly English (which GooсH is perpetually deploring) as GooсH is undecidedly French. [Arcades ambo-Boompjes both.]

GOOCH travels as if he were dressed for Regent Street, so as to be ready, he says, for the towns.

MAULLIE, who has started in advance of us, when he does appear bursts on us in a light check coat, check trousers, white waistcoat, and white wideawake. The English tourist complete. Bradshaw in a bag slung behind him, and a sketch-book and pencil in his off-hand pocket.

GOOCH, not knowing MAULLIE very well, confides his misery to us in the evening. "I say," he asks, "can't anyone hide MAULLIE'S wideawake and burn his Bradshaw? Or, look here, couldn't we subscribe and buy him a black hat and black coat for towns? And (imploringly to us all) do talk French more. Hang it; why shouldn't we all talk French? And, then, we shouldn't get mixed up with these 'travelling English' everywhere." [Boompje.]

On account of that white wideawake and light coat of MAULLIE'S, I know that GoоCH suffered mental agonies.

One morning, BUND, the Commodore, exhibited a black soft felt hat, of a Tyrolean form, smashed. It had braved many tours, and was now produced by him to save his other hat and be comfortable. GOOCH eyed it, and merely observed that it was impossible for him (BUND) to go out walking in that thing. MAULLIE was bad, but to be excused solely on the ground that he was an artist. But BUND had no excuse, and his hat was several times worse than MAULLIE'S.

THE TOUR CONTINUES-THE INTELLIGENT JÖMP-THE
BOOMPJE LIVERY.

There is certainly a good deal of Boompje about provincial continental towns, perhaps not more nor less than in ours. But no matter, here, there and everywhere all is Boompje.

N.B. The careful and inquiring reader will be able to collect for himself, from time to time, such Boompje proverbs as embody most of the Club's leading principles.

1. Once a Boompje always a Boompje.

2. When with Boompjes do as the Boompjes do.

3. Here there and everywhere all is Boompje.

BUND asks him if it's a gas pipe?

MR. JOMP being taken aback, and having no invention ready to hand (it is the business of a Courier to be always ready with some story and we drive on. about an object of interest) replies, Vell-um-um-yez-perhaps," If MR. JOMP ever takes another party there, he'll show that cannon as the first gaspipe ever laid down and taken up again in Lille.

We see an arch. "What is that?" we ask the intelligent JöMP. "That?" returns our inexhaustible courier, "um-um-um," he looks at it and thinks; then to us, as if astonished at our want of perception, be as perfectly satisfied as he is himself. "That is an arc, an arch." With which explanation he expects us to tions being pulled down. We view two churches, which are large and We see Vauban's fortificahave fine windows. We don't know their names, but are as much pleased as if we had heard all about them.

GOOCH says,

train."

There! now we've done Lille, let's go back to the We all feel the better for this episode, and presently, about four hours after, arrive at Ghent.

At the hotel and ready for dinner.

Ghent. GOOCH asks, "Qu'est-ce que vous avez?" meaning for our dinner. The waiter is a little startled; but suddenly, bursts out with "Roas beef, you can have, and mutton, and some plum puddang." "Confound it!" says GooсH. "What's the good of coming abroad for that?" And forthwith, the table arrangements having been confided to him, he orders an elaborate menu.

At dinner GooCH, in his character of un vrai Parisien, insists upon having hors d'oeuvres. But for these (which turn out to be radishes on one plate and butter on another) the dinner is served in purely English style: whereat GOOCH is very angry with JöMP, who, he says, has told them that we are English, and like this sort of thing. JöMP denies this; but says he is very sorry. "What for?" asks GooсH, brusquely.

"Um-um-um," replies JöMP, "vell-um-I do not know." But for a long time he doesn't get over the imputation of having betrayed the secret of our being Englishmen, and living only on "roas beef, mutton, and plum-puddang."

We apply to JöMP, as knowing all about it, to know what there is to be seen in Ghent.

JÖMP replies, "Vell-um-um, you can see-um-um, a great many things." We wait to hear a few mentioned particularly. 66 There's

(it suddenly occurs to him by a sudden inspiration,) "vatever you like." He says this as if Ghent belonged to him, and he was throwing it open gratis for our inspection.

"Ain't there some fine churches?" BUND suggests as a leading question to freshen his memory.

68 Oh, yez," he returns, shrugging his shoulders; "there's, um-um -vell-there's churches."

'Hang it!" cries GooсH, "go and ask somebody;" and JöMP, more hurt than ever, in fact, almost shedding tears, quits the room, and we hear voices on the landing. JöMP and the waiter.

"He said he knew all these places," BUND explains apologetically. [Evidently a courier's Boompje.]

JöмP, the "intelligent officer," as the police reports say of a policeman who has done nothing but receive information," returns, having ascertained that there is a Belfry to see and a Church of St. Paul. He takes us to the Belfry, and tells us it is St. Paul's; he takes us to St. Paul's, and tells us it is the Belfry. Both are shut; but an old man, in his shirt sleeves, offers, instead, to show us the Gymnasium. Declined, with thanks.

DAME WASHTUB ON THE WEATHER. DROUGHT, drought for nearly three months long, and not a drop of rain,

Ah drat the drought! though well we know 'tis sinful to complain.
And havin' bin so fine, 'tis true, and not the slightest doubt,
That not a day have passed but what a body could get out.
The farmers always grumbles, be the weather what it may,
But sartingly we must alow a felure of the hay,
Which therefore butter is so dear, and dearer it will be,
And what with that and butcher's meat, a-lawks-a-daisy me!

But no one, and it only shows how rare is folks that 's just,
Have e'er a word to speak for them as feels the drought the wust.
The soap hard water takes to use you'd think past all belief,
There's none as grieves for want of rain like washerwomen's grief.

But still we 're only havin' what old people used to call
In my young days," a good old English summer," arter all.
Some seasons it is all as wet, may be another year.
The climate altered? Fiddle! To sitch talk I gives no ear.
Saint Swithin is a comin', which if then it rains, they says,
'Twill arterwards rain every day, or night, for forty days.

It never rains but what it pours; that's what they means: that's all.
I don't believe Saint Swithin, for Saint Swithin ain't Saint Paul.
And oh that ZADKIEL! he foretold that June was to be cool,
Which therefore he is either an imposture or a fool,
And if so be as how he's wrong when he foretells the weather,
What can his prophecies be wuth? ah, drat it, altogether!
But would Saint Swithin sprinkle, as the sayin' is, the apples,
Apart from any mummery and mash in Popish chapels,
It would be a relief now we have bin so long a fryin'.
But there, if bad for washin', this hot weather's good for dryin'.

THE UNDOUBTED CENTENARIAN (THAT IS TO BE).-Punch.

THE TWO PLAGUES IN THE PAPERS.

(To our Esteemed Contemporaries.)

IF you have further information
About the Bill for Education,
Or that concerning Irish Land,
Which we have need to understand,
State it, but O, for Goodness' sake,
In as few words as it can take!

For months you've kept on day by day,
Bore, bore, bore, prose, prose, prose away,
Drear, drowsy dulness without dawn,
Perused with effort and with yawn,

Details, as dry as driest dust,

Of idle clauses, first discussed

By prolix tongues of spouters; then

In lengthy articles with pen.

We throw the papers down with curses.

The Education Bore the worse is,

A tedious comment upon chattering

Whose best result will be a smattering

Of merest rudiments of learning.

Enlarge no more that theme concerning.
Into discourse thereon we dip,
See what 'tis all about, and skip.
Briefest remark on dull debate is
Best. Cut it short. Ohe, jam satis!

Gilpin Run Away With as Usual.

MR. CHARLES GILPIN has pronounced against a Compulsory Vaccination Act. He thinks the people who refuse to believe in well-performed Vaccination as a prophylactic against Small Pox, are to be convinced by reason and argument!

JOHN GILPIN borrowed a horse from his friend the Calenderer, and it ran away with him.

CHARLES GILPIN has borrowed a hobby from the laisserfaire livery stables, and it has run away with him.

ADVICE TO THE FARMER.-Keep your Weather Eye open.

CECUMENICAL HOPE DEFERRED.

ST. PETER'S day has come and gone, but St. Peter's successor has not yet been declared infallible. There is really some reason to fear that, possibly, he may fail to be. In that event, all rational people will be rather disappointed. Either the POPE is infallible or he is not. If he is, the sooner he is acknowledged to be, the better. If he is not, still the better it will be the sooner it is declared that he is. For then he, and his Council between them, will have stultified both himself and themselves, and all the rest of his adherents, and still more completely have stultified those who wish to be his adherents on their own termsour Ritualists, eager to get their own priestcraft recognised by the other priestcrafts of Christendom, and yet remain parsons.

No wonder at their anxiety, betrayed by their journals, that the proposed dogma should fall through, for even the most illogical of them all must have sense enough to see that, if it is promulgated, they must either accept it and be off, or else discontinue the profession that they "hold all Roman doctrine." Either alternative will, at least, be an end of humbug.

Substitutes for Steam-Rollers.

A STEAM Paving Machine is at work in Paris. We are still in want of steam-rollers. But that is no reason why our roads should continue to be paved with angular fragments of granite and shingle. If our paupers, for want of diet, have not muscle enough to crush them, why not employ ablebodied convicts? The spectacle of criminals undergoing hard labour would be edifying and exemplary to their associates; thus two birds would, in a manner, be killed with one stone; especially if the Fenians were employed along with the other malefactors in breaking the stones.

TESTS AND TENETS.

THE enactment of the University Tests Bill is not at all likely to increase the number of Dissenters among the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, although it may diminish that of signatures to the ThirtyNine Articles.