NOTES FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY, 1870. March. Suggestive month for military. Determine to become a Volunteer, and go in for firing. Friend says, "Why not win a cup?" Certainly. Why not? Friend says, Go in for the five hundred yards business. It appears I can do it-that is, I can try to do it in three positions, standing up, kneeling, or lying at full length, not on my back. The third he says is easier than it looks. Hope so. Besides in war, he observes, it's more useful, as the shots go over you instead of through you. Looking at it in this light, this position certainly has its advantages. Hire a field to practise in, by myself. Get other Volunteers, from the village, (the little tailor, the small farmer, and the general dealer's assistant) to come down and shoot every morning, six sharp. We find six, in March, peculiarly sharp. April, May, June.-Nothing particular, except practising every day, and once winging the hat of the man at the butt, who becoming enthusiastic, had looked out to see how the shooting was going on without waving his flag first. June 2nd made a centre. paying. I protest, exhibiting my uniform. They say it's not a uniform; it's undress : it might be anybody's. Show my card. Won't do. Must pay. I pay, and threaten to report this also to head-quarters. Wish I could find head-quarters. Ask, and am directed to the refreshment tent. Will go there presently. Hear firing in various directions. Ask where the Pinnyhoe men are to shoot. No one knows. Advised to buy a book about the shooting, published by Authority and SPIERS AND POND. Apparently more of SPIERS AND POND in it than Authority. Sit on a tub, an isolated Volunteer, and read it. Notes on the Publication. The motto for Volunteers is Sit perpetuum, which seems singularly inappropriate for men who are expected to fire in any position, and to be always on the move. The book refers me to a "plan of ground" for my guidance. This I find in a pocket in the binding. Where am I now? There is a place marked "gravel-pit." I am not in the gravel-pit. The tub on which I am seated is not down as a landmark. It's very badly managed. There ought to be polite officials to walk about, and ask Volunteers, specially officers, where they'd like to go to ? Inspect the plan again. There is a "windmill" and a "lavatory." From the tub I can see neither. Let me see, here are "North ranges marked down. Which is North, and which is South? -Note. To buy a pocket compass. Can't tell by the wind or by the Sun. Ought to be able, but can't. Here is "Grand Stand" on the plan. Not the tub certainly. June 3rd made another. The rest nowhere. Shall look out list of prizes at 500 yards for lying down, standing, or kneeling competitors. Ask a friend who knows all about it. What should he advise me to go in for? He says he'll jot down two or three for me. What do I think, for example, of the Belgian Nursery Cup? Well, I think it's very nice. Only, am I qualified? And if qualified, what does it mean? He doesn't know, but supposes that the Belgian Nursery Cup can only be shot for by Belgian Infantry. I ask him to be serious, because if I do win a cup, it's a sort of thing that remains in one's family as an heirloom. Should like to have an heirloom. Can imagine descendants Enter the Restaurants for luncheon. To hot waiter, "What can I having it out after dinner and saying, this is what my great-greatgrandfather (with a picture of me over the dining-room mantelpiece, in uniform) won at Wimbledon. "Why not," he says, "go in for the Bass Prize?" Any qualification necessary? I ask. "Yes," he replies, you must be able to pint your gun." Hate a fellow who turns everything into joke. Decide upon buying a programme-book of the meeting and choosing the prize I'll shoot for. The Running Deer seems to me a good notion. (I regret having thus expressed myself to my friend, who is instantly upon me with, "Yes, the Running Deer is a very good i-deer." Idiot! and if you laugh you encourage him.) Decide at last upon going in for the Daily Telegraph Prize, the Windmill Prize, and the Running Deer. Conditions of the above.-500 yards in any position. Think I shall practise sitting as being less fatiguing. I practise in every position three times a day, and make centres. The village comes out to see me, like the opening chorus in Der Freischütz. itz. The sporting publican, however, offers to "back the Wimbledon butts," which is a trifle discouraging. Hear (from the little tailor when he's "measuring" me for a Volunteer cloak) that the sporting publican intends t to make a good thing out of my shooting. Laying agen you, Sir," ," he explains, cheerfully. I advise little tailor to back his Captain (me) for the honour generally of old England. Little tailor says," he would if he were a betting man, which he ain't." The Day-Leave my happy home at Pinnyhoe, in the Downs, for Clapham Junction. After some deliberation (while getting up) decide upon not wearing full Captain's uniform, with sword, but only plain tunic and forage cap. Neat and unassuming if I don't win the Telegraph Cup, or the Windmill Prize, or miss the Running Deer. Beside, if there's any difficulty, I've only to present my card with Rank and Corps engraved to get me a pass anywhere. 'Pon my word, it is a grand noble thing for England and Englishmen this Volunteer system. All grand devoted fellows. Only one trap at station, and four Volunteers wanting to take it. I am the fifth. The "grand devoted fellows" are in some dark green and Ah! here is a first-rate point to guide myself by. "Centre of Weathercock on Square Tower!". What a capital butt this would make. Centre of Weathercock! Can't see it anywhere. Wish I hadn't come. Can't go back without firing a shot, at something, or some one. Getting hungry. Walking from the tub I find myself between the Police camp and the Restaurants. have?" Waiter stops for one second to glance at my dress, and then replies mechanically, "Volunteers in uniform are entitled to a small plate of beef, or ham, and tea," and hurries off to attend other orders. I will have what I am entitled to with the exception of tea, which I propose to exchange for mild ale and ginger beer or Bass's pale. Somehow or another I find on finishing that I have run into Breakfast 2s. and Bass 6d., besides the small plate to which Volunteers are entitled. Waiter differs from me as to my being in uniform. I want to refer the matter to SPIERS AND POND, or SPIERS alone, or POND without SPIERS. Altercation ends by my giving him an extra sixpence to put me straight for the place where the Telegraph is to be shot for. On the Spot. Will I stand, or sit, or kneel, or lie down? Choose kneeling. Butt five hundred yards off. Seems to be a longer five hundred than I've been practising at at Pinnyhoe. Officers to fire first, I believe. Am not recognised as an officer, not being in full uniform. Absurd. They don't call me Captain. Wish some of my own men were here, or anyone whom I knew, and who knows what I am when at home. Two shots allowed first to get the right sight. Der Freischütz again. The bullets are not charmed. Hope number three shot will be better than the two to get the correct sight, as where they went to it is im possible to say. No one is hurt at present; but it strikes me that Pinnyhoe is nowhere. Thinking of the sporting publican, I should be inclined to back the butts myself, and make money by it. Odd! when at home I've been making centres every day for the last month. First genuine shot. Just before this, man puts me out by entangling himself somehow in the distance with the danger signal. I fire. No effects. Rain begins to drizzle. Curious that at home I should never have thought of shooting in the rain. Always went in when it rained. Quite unsettled: missed again. Also at home I never shot after a small plate of beef and Bass. Makes all the difference. Give it up and retire: say I feel a little dizzy. Think I'll visit the Running Deer. The Running Deer is out of order and can't move. Sorry for this, as red uniform, and are the scrubbiest lot (that is a lot wanting a great I fancy I could have done something here. More rain. Harder. deal of scrubbing) I ever saw. But what of the outside shell? Or to Pelting. No chance of camp-fires and all the jollifications of war put it Volunteerly and professionally, what of the Shell-jacket?-the which one reads of in LEVER'S books, with doctors telling racy stories man's the kernel within. (Keep this as a motto for our regiment, which, and Irish Captains making sporting bets. I will take my rifle and go. when the day's work is done, I shall announce amidst shouts of ap- Swear I put down my rifle close by me not a minute ago, when I was plause around our merry camp-fire to-night.) We fraternise and jog talking to some one about the centres I'd been making at Pinnyhoe. up in the trap together to the Camp. Share and share alike is fair, and Can't find it anywhere. Can't go about the Camp asking everyone if this is real brotherhood, for I've never seen any of 'em before. N.B. they've seen a rifle that doesn't belong to them. Raining harder than Since noting the above, I may add, that I've never seen any of 'em ever. Shall get back to train and go home. Shan't go again. It's again. They jumped out directly the fly was pulling up by the entrance absurd after all making Volunteering a sort of pigeon-shooting affair. to the Camp, and ran away. The flyman is off if his box in a second, and Shall set my face against it. Shan't go again: except with a party most insolent. I explain to him that they are nothing to me, that I am and all in full uniform. Give up idea of handing down silver-cup to not responsible for them, that in fact, her here is my share; but he won't descendants. Home. Meet sporting publican next day. He says he listen to reason (mine), and and is becoming violent. I appeal to sta- heard of me at Wimbledon. Think I've gone down in the estimation tionary policeman. He hears the case (judicially), and says he can't of my Corps. Bad, this, for an officer. interfere. I must pay the man. Pay him indignantly, and promise to Stay-I know: I'll give 'em all a dinner, and go up again in their report the whole affair at head-quarters. Haven't the smallest notion estimation. Day settled, and to be given at the sporting publican's where "head-quarters" rs" are, but have a sort of notion that I should house. get some luncheon there, if I could find them. a Note. Since the invitations have been issued, applications to be See no one I know. Officials at gate demur to my entrance without enlisted in my Corps are coming in every hour. MR. PUNCH, SIR, SHABBY AFFAIRS. You approve, I am happy to observe, in your waluable journal, of the good old maxim "Live and let live." Now then. What do you say to the crusade wich the Pall Mall Gazette say we are glad to see" have been got up among certain parsons "to render funerals less costly and conventional than they have hitherto been?" The ringleader of these reverend parties, I understand from the Pall Mall, is the Vicar of Stratford-on-Avon, and I suppose it's him as is named by that disagreeable paper when it states that : "The special objects which MR. COLLIS has in view are the reduction of the expense and pomp of funerals by providing a bier and pall for the poor, and by declining to receive gloves, scarves, and batbands; by discouraging funeral feasts, which are a heavy tax on the poor, and discountenancing the use of the ridiculous trappings which are thoroughly out of place at such seasons." WAR NEWS. (From our Special Correspondent, Captain DinGWELL.) PRUSSIA. (No date or place.) I'M your Special Cockalorum. Know lots of the gay soldiers in the Prussian army. Speak to 'em in their own native tongue. Quite the German myself. Everybody here all over the shop. Times Cockalorum quodded. They've hustled him rather. No Mine's the way to have 'em, your washup. No swagger. But this is the down-the-road trick; and we (another fellow here and self) up to the whole bag of 'em. We've got a cart, and no end of brandy-and-soda, iced. We follow the army. March, drink, march again, and so on. pay, no drink. Collar no end of coin. Doosid thirsty weather. Fighting going to commence. Glass 90 odd in the shade. Take a glass at 1° (iced) in the sun: B. & S. to keep keep pecker up, before scrimmage. Charge anything. Fight. B. & S. (iced) indulged in freely by Victorious Army on the scoop. Ain't it no end? Send you news all the while. HOW TO ROLL YOUR ROADS. We learn from a Report on the Economy of Road-mending, lately made by that Colossus of Roads, MR. PAGET, that the using of steamrollers" saves fifty per cent., at least, in merely the expense for broken stones alone." This is, in itself, a valuable economy; but, besides the saving in broken stones alone, who will estimate the value of the saving, by smooth roadways, of broken springs, and battered wheels, and injured horses' feet, and jolted bones, and shaken nerves of creatures who are even more valuable than horses P MR. PAGET further tells us that: "Merely in the consumption of granite the ratepayers of London would save £140,000 a year by the universal use of steam-rollers." As the Vestrymen of London have the mending of the roads, this argumentum ad pocketum is a proper one to use; for it is of little use appealing to the feelings of a Vestryman. Perhaps, though, if some Vestrymen were suddenly indicted for cruelty to animals, both human I know what I should say if I was Mr. Punch to sitch a despiseable attempt pt to take the bread out of the mouths of respectable individuals. and equine, occasioned by the sharp stones which are strewn uncrushed "Shabby!" That's the word. It describes ex exactly just what upon the roadways, they might begin to listen to the voice of reason, funeral would be without gloves, and scarfs, and atbands. No plumes, which, by the mouth of Mr. Punch, has advocated constantly the use for making a a 'd, is a of cheap steam-rollers, in lieu of costly carriage-wheels, mean enough, and show a reduction now too generally pursu'd, contemptuous want of proper respect; but to dock off sitch triflin smooth road. tributes of isteem and afexion as a few pares of gloves and yards of black crape! It isn't respectable. And what makes such stingey begerly o objections to reasonable expense the more ridiclous is that under the feelins of berievement economy never ain't no objict with sorowin relatives, who wery often benefits by a ansome legacy into the Bargain. No, Sir, "Live and let live," as you justly observe, and allow me to make the little addition "Die and let live," hallso, and don't have no pittyful and indecent curs tailment of the usial obsequidges. Trusting the wealthy, who can well afford them, will never set the base exampel of cuttin' of 'em down, I'remain, Sir, yours till death, and arterwards too, if employed by the friends, Elm Grove. MUTUS MUMM, Unexpected News. "The Journal Officiel also says that France has nothing but sympathy for Germany." -Daily News. We are glad to hear this. We had feared that France had (amongs other things) Chassepôts, iron-clads, and mitrailleuses for Germany. We only hope the "sympathy" will not be too warmly expressed. A THOUGHT WHILE ANGLING. It must be a very painful state of things to have to live " on your own hook." And the worst of it is, that the same position on anybody else's hook would be equally objectionable. THE BOOMPJE PAPERS. Cocher (drawing up). "VOILÀ, M'SIEU!" Anatole. "EST-CE QUE VOUS ÊTES LIBRE?" Our order of proceeding through Rotterdam, is JöMP first, with the Commodore's carpet-bag, containing (especially) Murray and Bradshaw, Then the Secretary, then MAULLIE in his celebrated hat with his weapons, sketch-book and pencil, in hand, "taking bits," lastly, the Count (Gooch) lagging well in the rear, afraid to lose sight of us entirely, but attempting to appear as if the assertion that we had any sort of connection with him (as advertisements say) was "an untrades manlike falsehood." man's, and as hot as the glazed one worn by voituriers in Paris) performs a sort of extempore shampooing operation with a faded brown cotton pocket handkerchief ("Hang it," says the Count, "I'll get him a new one") and having "brought it out," replies deliberately, "Vell, um-um-um-oh yes-there's de statue of Rasums"- this is what "ERASMUS" comes to in JÖMP'S dialect. "Yes-oh yes-it's here," which we know, "but where?" asks the Commander becoming a little irritable. -" Vell, I'll demand-oh, yes they'll tell me -as if this was a profound secret not generally divulged by the Rotterdammers, "and-de Picture galleries-oh yes-You can see dem-um-um-um," here he thinks it out again, and makes a safe dere are any." MAULLIE, exclaiming, "Hah proviso" if !" then he pauses, shades his eyes with GOOCH is utterly disgusted, and stands aloof, looking in at a shop window. JÖMP has to clear away the crowd. " "I thought you said," exclaims the Count to BUND, "that JöMP knew this place very well." "He told me he'd been here before," replies the Commodore, evading the responsibility;-then to JOMP, "You have been here before, eh?" "Oh, yes," replies JöMP, indignantly, "Oh, yes-been here before -but I never stop." This confession compels Bund to have recourse to Murray. To get at Murray he has to open the bag, remove Bradshaw, two hair-brushes, an old comb, an Eau-de-Cologne bottle, a pair of slippers, slippers, and a portOn the appearance of this last article, rticle, GOOCH makes a final protest-"Out in the open air-oh 'pon my soul! -it's-it's"and being unable to find words sufficiently strong to express his disgust, he walks away from us and saunters along, as if he was utterly blasé, and had seen it all scores of hours before, the Boompje, by the side of a canal. we're going to perform, and do do conjuring. It's all through MAULLIE's able boot-jack. JÖMP, a perfect Irvingite in the matter of unknown tongues, somehow manages to explain to the little Dutch boys, that we are not going to give a performance of any sort, and we resume our progress. The Commodore's one object in Rotterdam is to find out the statue of ERASMUS. GOOCH, who has dressed himself as if to walk in Hyde Park, and is suffering from the heat and the wretched pavement, says, "Hang ERASMUS!" MAULLIE asks where the Picture Galleries are? These two questions being put to JÖMP, that well-informed person stops, takes off his hat (the livery one, which is as hard as a police At this rate we don't get on very fast through Rotterdam. Presently BUND cries out (he is sitting on a post, studying the Guide Book) to MAULLIE, who is taking a bit, "What do you think Murray says?" "Don't know," returns MAULLIE, placing his pencil horizontally across the bridge of his hose, and grinning at an imaginary vanishing point. "He says," continues the Commodore, quoting ""One day will suffice to see all that is remarkable in Rotterdam." responsible for JÖMP, and is beginning to feel that he mustn't be trifled "Oh," says MAULLIE, in a tone of utter indifference. "Is there nothing to see?" says GOOCH, who has sauntered back again on seeing Murray returned to the bag, and the bag once more in JÖMP's hands. "See? Yes!" cries MAULLIE, enthusiastically, shutting up his sketch-book with a click. "See? lots. I could spend weeks here. Isn't there a tower or something to go up and get a view from?" If there are no picture-galleries, MAULLIE invariably wants "to go up somewhere and get a view." To boompje up a hundred and twentyfive steps gives quite a fresh lease of life to MAULLIE. GOOCH says, languidly, "Good heavens! if you want to do that sort of thing, why didn't you stop in town or go up the Monument." He complains (he is always presenting gravamina to me, privately) that to go up towers and belfries is "such a regular British tourist sort of thing." "Let's go to a restaurant's," the Count proposes. Compromise. Tower first, restaurant afterwards. In the meantime (while we're up the tower) JOMP to go and order luncheon. "Not luncheon," says Gooch in despair, déjeuner à la fourchette, a bon filet, par exemple, and be sure to order hors d'œuvres, des radis, des sardines, you know, JÖMP; no confounded nglish things." And JÖMP departs on his errand, taking with him, thank Heaven, says GOOCH, after he's well out of sight, that boompje carpet-bag of BUND'S. On quitting the tower, from the summit of which we certainly have a wonderful view (about which MAULLIE cross-questions the guide who shows us over the place, while the Commodore, who will trust no information except Murray's, listens to him with the air of a man not to be taken in in this sort of way), we walk towards the restaurant, BUND stopping MAULLIE to draw his attention to what he considers picturesque (a tender of opinion immediately resented by MAULLIE who likes to choose for himself), the Secretary noting down the bright brass milk-pails, the Turks' heads, open-mouthed, over the druggists'doors (as if always ready for physic), and the costumes of the women, with their wonderful spiral ear-rings, arranged on a startling boompje principle, apparently to shoot out suddenly and hit you, and looking very much as if the Dutch women had extracted the springs from small PALMER'S patent candle-lamps, and polished 'em up into something resembling ornaments for their ears. Mem. All the children lovely; grown-up people, plain. At the Restaurant. - Gooch complains it isn't like Paris: more like Leicester Square. He hopes JÖMP has ordered some dish peculiar to the country., "Oh, yes," says JÖMP, "I have commanded a-a-a" (Here he thinks it out, and continues-"a-a-vot they have got." with. "Vell-um-um," JÖMP explains, "vere it is-vot part of de town he is in." "Water-zootje is something to eat, you-you Boompje!" cries GOOCH. "Ah!" returns JÖMP, with an incredulous smile, thinking he is being chaffed, "you can ask." So the waiter enters. "Now," says BUND, shifting the authority on to the Count's shoulders, "you order what you want." All eyes on the Count: the waiter deeply attentive. "Have you," inquires GOOCH, with the air of a barrister who 'll get something out of the witness before he's done with him-"Have you any water-zootje?" Vater" the waiter murmurs, puzzled. "Water-zootje, you know," says GoocH. "Vater-zootje," MAULLIE tries, with a feeble attempt at Dutch. The waiter looks at JÖMP. JÖMP shrugs his shoulders, and smiles helplessly, as much as to say, "You see they will have their joke," which irritates GooOCH almost beyond endurance. Then the waiter, evidently entering into JÖMP'S view of the matter, also smiles and shakes his head, head, a as if we really were too funny for him. "But, confound it!" exclaims GOOCH, "don't you know your own dishes ? Why, it's a regular Dutch dish-always have it at Greenwich" (Waiter and JöMP shrugging and smiling, Commodore and MAULLIE anxious.) "Here, I'll write it down" He writes it down. "Now," he resumes, triumphing in this effort of dowhat's that?" ingenuity, The waiter inspects it, so does JÖMP. "Well," says GoOCH, impatiently, "don't you know it? Haven't you got it? Water-zootje, eh? Your own national dish!" The waiter, still under the impression that he is the victim of a weak practical joke, replies, "No, never 'eard of eat," and retires with JÖMP. Agreed, nem. con., stupid idiots! Don't know their own dishes. The usual foreign dinner follows-roas beef, &c. No hors d'œuvres, no salad. Capital champagne, however, well iced, restores equanimity. After dinner GOOCH lights cigarettes. MAULLIE sleeps. BUND to Commodore reads aloud extracts from Murray, and the Secretary makes notes. BUND, finding it dull, regrets he didn't bring his violoncello, and requests me to note that there is no music in Rotterdam. If we stop any time in one place (BUND throws this out as a suggestion), he thinks he'll hire a violoncello. (Boompje!) Enter waiter with large dish, followed by another waiter with smaller dish. Cover removed. Exclamation (Boompje!) from Gooch, "A rumpsteak and potatoes! Oh, confound it! Why the Boompje" G (to JÖMP, who stands by, smiling, with an air of intense satisfaction) "couldn't you order a dish of the country?" "Vell," returns JÖMP, hurt, "dis is from de country. De cow is in de country, and de potatoes in de country." Agreed nem. con., for the fourth time, that JÖMP is an ass. "And no hors-d'œuvres!" says GOOCH, almost in tears. "Oh, yes," says JÖMP, triumphantly, "I command them, but there are none. Some capital light wine, and plenty of ice, restores us, and we again take to the Hoogstraat (High Street). Note. Dutch inscriptions. We notice "Koffy Haus" and "Kaffy," too, as if they had not yet made up their minds how to settle the spelling. "Slytery Tappery" is very popular, and Hollandsche Spoorweg is far from occasional. It is satisfactory to ("satisfactory" looks like a Dutch word, so do "lottery" and "pottery") know that "Agentschasse der Sliedrechtsche stoorm sleep maatschaffij Haarsnijder Beschen'en kleingoed." "Heavens!" says GoOCH, "Fancy being in a place where 'het is verboden to slytery tappery!"" He makes this remark on some notice not unlike the above, stuck up in a picture-gallery (not here, but at Amsterdam), which he subsequently finds means that visitors are requested not to put their sticks and umbrellas through the pictures. (At least we conclude that to be the idea.) Dinner at the Hotel. - Bright idea of GoocH's. He knows what to ask for. Of course the dish of the country. What? Why-fancy not having thought of it before of course, water-zootje! I suggest souchet. The Commodore thinks it's zouchy. MAULLIE says he doesn't know, but should say water-zootje, inclining to Gooch's opinion. JÖMP summoned. Does he know if there is any water-zootje? "Vell," says JÖMP, "perhaps there is." He discovers his utter ignorance of what we mean by offering to find out for us vere it is. "What do you mean-' where it is ?" says BUND, sternly. He is PAYING YOUR SHOT. a ROUSE SHOOTING. -A GUN to be LET, on Was it necessary to incur the expense of an advertisement in the Times to announce to the sporting world that there was "a gun to be let"? It is not needful to go to distant moors to hire that article. In London alone there must be a large number of respectable shops willing, for a consideration, to let out fire-arms, without requiring "references" "unexceptionable" or otherwise. But perhaps publicity has been given to this particular gun, because it has, apparently, the unusual recommendation of including "board, &c.," whereas the ordinary weapon only includes powder, shot, &c.? War Declared Between France and Prussia On St. Swithin's Day, July 15, 1870. UPON St. Swithin's day, Query, ought not that rain to have been red ? Annual Atrocity. THE Massacre of the Innocents is approaching. Poor little things! Could they not be put out of existence by some means less absolutely ruthless than a massacre? Suppose they were consigned, at an early date, to the hands of Independent Members, and so disposed of by a system of Parliamentary Baby-farming? TO THE TRADE. MRS. MALAPROP wishes to know where she can procure the "Eton and Harrow Match," and whether it is warranted to ignite only on the box. AUGUST 6, 1870.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HIGH JINKS. THE REV. ALBAN ROCHET HAS HIS PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN "FULL RITUALISTIC Country Photographer. THE DEAD SHOT AT DOVES. I CALL it hard labour to carry a gun Out shooting for hours in the heat of the sun, You'll never catch me beating cover or moor, The thought of my cheeks and brow streaming and red No; give me the Scrubbs, or a smooth-shaven lawn, The daughters of Fashion in brilliant array, object bject admired of their languishing gaze. Out flutters the pigeon when pulled is the string; Crack shots there are many that love a battue; Prussian Army Tailors. THE term "tailoring," in the language of pigeon-shooters, means, we suppose, effectually shooting the pigeon. It is the work of their needle-gun. "THE HEYES MIGHT BE HELEVATED A LITTLE 'IGHER, a piece of slang by which the Prussians might aptly describe YOUR REVERENCE!!" THE CENSUS. A PEOPLE'S Bill, the Census Bill, has been passing through Committee in the House of Commons. Members tried to enlarge its scope, 10. Do you wash by the piece or the year? 11. How often in the week last preceding the 2nd of April, 1871, had you cold meat for dinner? 12. What number of servants do you keep; and how many times as to tea, sugar, beer, their own washing, and have you changed them during the last three months? What are your and make the information it is to produce rather more amusing; arrangements with them rejecting proposals to persuade the area-gate? Do you allow followers? but not with much success, the House rejec us all, on a certain day in the month of April next, to confide to the 13. Are you troubled with black beetles; and what have you found REGISTRAR GENERAL to what religious community we belong; whether to be the most efficacious means of destroying them? It appears to Mr. Punch that an excellent opportunity of obtaining a large mass of valuable statistical facts, bearing on the prosperity and national resources of the country, is likely to be lost for another ten years; and he, therefore, suggests to the House of Lords the propriety of their introducing into the Bill, when it comes before them, some such list of questions as the following, the answers to which would prove far more interesting than mere commonplace everyday details of name, age, sex, profession, or occupation, relation to head of family, &c. : 1. Are you engaged ? 2. What tooth-powder do you use? 3. Does your mother-in-law reside under your roof; and do you find his arrangement conducive to domestic happiness? 4. Do you keep Christmas? 5. Are you on friendly terms with your wife's relations? State the number of meals they have taken in your house during the last three weeks. 6. How many false teeth have you? 7. Are you homœopath, allopath, hydropath, thermopath, or Turco bath? 8. Which of the many kinds of cocoa do you prefer? do? VOL, LIX. G 18. Is the hair you wear all your own? (This question is not compulsory on ladies.) 19. Which daily paper do you read? 20. Do you belong to the Civil Service Supply Association? 22. Do you wear screwed boots ? 23. Do you suffer from indigestion? 24. Are you a smoker; and which do you prefer, a pipe or a cigar ? 25. Are you High Church, Low Church, Broad Church, Narrow Church, Fast Church, Slow Church, or No Church? 26. Have you ever visited SIR JOHN SOANE'S Museum ? 27. Do you take sugar in your tea? 28. Do you take Punch? : |