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(Given, you bet, by some rural J. P.);
Easy let-off for a bogus "Promoter,'
Helping the ruin of hundreds for gain;
Six months for stealing a turnip or "bloater,"
Ditto for bashing a wife on the brain:
Sentences cut to one-twelfth on appealing,
Judges and juries at loggerheads quite!
Really each day brings some curious revealing,
Putting you, Ma'am, in a very strange light.
Take my advice, Ma'am, this bright New
Year's morning,

Give a look up to your agents all round;
To some give the sack, and to others a warning;
The Public will back up your move, I'll be
bound!

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GIFTS FOR THE NEW YEAR.
H-r M-j-sty.-The hearty congratulations
of a loyal and united people.

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The Pr-nce and Pr-nc-ss. The most welcome of daughters-in-law.

Prince Alb-rt V-ct-r.-MAY in February. The Rest of the R-y-l F-m-ly.-The best of wishes from everybody.

L-rd S-l-sb-ry.-A General Election.

Mr. Arth-r B-lf-r.-A Translation from the Irish.

Mr. J. Ch-mb-rl-n.-Promotion.

Sir W-ll-m H-rc-rt.-A Vision of the
Woolsack.

The Cz-r of R-ss-d.-A Vision of another
sort of Sack.

The G-rm-n Emp-r-r. New toys personally
selected.

President C-rn-t.-The compliments of the
Marquis of DUFFERIN.

Herr Ibs-n.-A tale without a plot.

Mr. R-dy-rd K-pl-ng.-Quite another story. The Corporation of L-v-rp-l.-The Freedom of the Grand Old Man.

The Gr-nd Old M-n.-The loss of the

Corporation of Liverpool.

And Mr. P-nch. Tons of material (voluntarily contributed) for the Grand Old Waste Paper Basket.

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SALISBURY'S "Circuses," and smart buffoons, GREEK MEETS GREEK.-"What!" exclaimed Won't move him, by "amusement," from an indignant scholar, who had not peeped into that wish. a Classic for some forty years, no more com- Parties may mutually denounce or "dish;' pulsory Greek at our Universities! What But what will win the Labourer for a friend are we coming to? All I can say is, Absit Is Home and Work, without the Workhouse Scuse me!" replied his friend, end! [loss, who was all for the new learning, "but Listen! Those who heed not will bide the I should say, 'Absit Homer'!" For Bos locutus est,-against the "Boss"!

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LAYS OF MODERN HOME.

No. I.-"MY HOUSEMAID!"

WHO, as our Dresden's wreck we scanned,
Protested, with assurance bland,

"It come to pieces in my 'and"?

My Housemaid.

Who "tidies" things each Monday morn,

And hides-until, with search outworn,
I wish I never had been born?

My Housemaid.

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Who "turns" my study "out" that day,
And then contrives to pitch away
As "rubbish" (which it is) my Play?
My Housemaid.
Who guards within her jealous care,
Mending or marking, till I swear,
The underclothes I long to wear?
My Housemaid.

Who cultivates a habit most
Perverse, of running to "The Post"
To meet her brothers (such a host!)?
My Housemaid.

Who, if she spends her "Sundays out"
At Chapel, as she does, no doubt,
Must be protractedly devout?

My Housemaid.

Who takes my novels down (it must
Be, as she vows, of course, "to dust"),
And thumbs them, much to my disgust?
My Housemaid.

Who "can't abide" a play or ball,

But dearly loves a Funeral,
Or Exeter's reproachless Hall?

My Housemaid.

Who late returning thence, in fits
Of what she terms "Historics," sits,-
And this day month my service quits?
My Housemaid.

66

QUITE CLEAR.-"Aha! mon ami," exclaimed our friend JULES, during the recent murky weather in Town, you ask me the difference between our Paris and your Paris is London. Tenez, I will tell you. always très gai, veritablement gai; but London is toujours faux gai-you see it is always fo-gay." And he meant "fog-gy." Well, he wasn't far wrong, just now.

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THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

No. XXI.

SCENE-The Steps of the Hotel Dandolo, about 11 A.M. PODBURY is looking expectantly down the Grand Canal, CULCHARD is leaning upon the balustrade.

Podbury. Yes, met BOB just now. They've gone to the Europa, but we've arranged to take a gondola together, and go about. They 're to pick me up here. Ah, that looks rather like them. (A gondola approaches, with Miss PRENDERGAST and BOB; PODBURY goes down the steps to meet them.) How are you, Miss PRENDERGAST? Here I am, you see.

Miss Prendergast (ignoring C.'s salute). How do you do, Mr. PODBURY? Surely you don't propose to go out in a gondola in that hat! Podb. (taking off a brown pot-hat," and inspecting it). It-it's quite decent. It was new when I came away!

Bob (who is surly this morning). Hang it all, 'PATIA! Do you want him to come out in a chimney-pot? Jump in, old fellow; never mind your tile?

Podb. (apologetically). I had a straw once-but I sat on it. awfully sorry, Miss PRENDERGAST. Look here, shall I gc and see if I can buy one?

Miss P. Not now-it doesn't signify, for once. But a round hat and a gondola are really too incongruous!

Podb. Are they? A lot of the Venetians seem to wear 'em. (He steps in.) Now what are we going to do-just potter about?

Miss P. One hardly comes to Venice to potter! I thought we'd go and study the Carpaccios at the Church of the Schiavoni first they won't

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take us more than an hour or so; then cross to San Giorgio Maggiore, and see the Tintorets, come back and get a general idea of the exterior of St. Mark's, and spend the afternoon at the Accademia.

Podb. (with a slight absence of heartiness). Capital! And -er-lunch at the Academy, I suppose?

Miss P. There does not happen to be a restaurant there we shall see what time we have. I must say I regard every minute of daylight spent on food here as a sinful waste.

Bob. Now just look here, 'PATIA, if you are bossing this show, you needn't go cutting us off our grub! What do you say, JEM?

Podb. (desperately anxious to please). Oh, I don't know that I care about lunch myself -much. [Their voices die

...

I'm

Miss T. The morning! Why, Poppa and I saw the entire show inside of ten minutes, before breakfast!

Culch. Ah! (Discouraged.) What do you say to studying the
Ducal Palace? I will go and fetch the Stones of Venice.
Vine and Fig-tree angles and the capitals of the arcades in the

Miss T. I guess you can leave those old stones in peace. I don't feel like studying up anything this morning-it's as much as ever I can do not to scream aloud!

Culch. Then shall we just drift about in a gondola all the morning, and-er-perhaps do the Academy later?

Miss T. Not any canals in this hot sun for me! I'd be just as sick! That gondola will keep till it's cooler.

Culch. (losing patience). Then I must really leave it to you to make a suggestion!

Miss T. Well, I believe I'll have a good look round the curiosity stores. There's ever such a cunning little shop back of the Clock Tower on the Pi-azza, where I saw some brocades that were just too sweet! So I'll take Poppa along bargain-hunting. Don't you come if you'd rather poke around your old churches and things! Culch. I don't feel disposed to-er-" poke around" alone; so, if you will allow me to accompany you,

"I guess you want to Cologne your cheeks!"

Miss T. Oh, I'll allow you to escort me. It's handy having someone around to carry parcels. And Poppa's bound to drop the balance every time!

Culch. (to himself). That's all I am to her. A beast of burden! And a whole precious morning squandered on this confounded shopping-when I might have been-ah, well!

[Follows, under protest. On the Grand Canal. 9 P.M. A brilliant moonlight night; a music-barge, hung with coloured lanterns, is moving slowly up towards the Rialto, surrounded and followed by a fleet of gondolas, amongst which is one containing the TROTTERS and CULCHARD. CULCHARD has just discovered -with an embarrassment not wholly devoid of a certain excitement-that they are drawing up to a gondola occupied by the PRENDERGASTS and PODBURY.

Mr. Trotter (meditatively). It's real romantic. That's the third deceased kitten I've seen to-night. They haven't only a two-foot tide in the Adriatic, and it stands to reason all the sewage

[The two gondolas are jammed close alongside. Miss P. How absolutely magical those palaces look in the moonlight! BOB, how can you yawn like that?

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away on the water. Culch. (musing). She might have bowed to me!... She has escaped the mosquitoes. Ah, well, I doubt if she 'll find those two particularly sympathetic companions! Now I should enjoy a day spent in that way. Why shouldn't I, as it is? I daresay MAUD will[Turns and sees Mr. TROTTER. Mr. T. My darter will be along presently. She's Cologning her cheeks-they've swelled up again some. I guess you want to-when you know she's just as mad with me! Cologne your cheeks-they're dreadful lumpy. I've just been on the Pi-azza again, Sir. It's curious now the want of enterprise in these Vernetians. Anyone would have expected they'd have thrown a couple or so of girder-bridges across the canal between this and the Ri-alto, and run an elevator up the Campanile-but this ain't what you might call a business city, Sir, and that's a fact. (To Miss T. as she appears.) Hello, MAUD, the ice-water cool down your face any? Miss T. Not much. My face just made that ice-water boil over. I don't believe I'll ever have a complexion again-it's divided up among several dozen mosquitoes, who've no use for one. But it's vurry consoling to look at you, Mr. CULCHARD, and feel there's a pair of us. Now what way do you propose we should endeavour to forget our sufferings?

Bob. I beg your pardon, 'PATIA, really, but we've had rather a long day of it, you know! Mr. T. Well, now, I declare I sort of recognised those voices! (Heartily.) Why, how are you getting along in Vernis? We're gettin' along fust-rate. Say, MAUD, here's your friend alongside! [Miss P. preserves a stony silence. Miss T. (in an undertone). I don't see how you can act so, Poppa Mr. I. There! Electrocuted if I didn't clean forget you were out! But, see here, now-why cann't we let bygones be bygones? Bob. (impulsively). Just what I think, Mr. TROTTER, and I'm sure my sister will

Culch. Well, we might spend the morning in St. Mark's- - ?

Miss P. BOB, will you kindly not make the situation more awkward than it is? If I desired a reconciliation, I think I am quite capable of saying so!

66

Miss T. (in confidence to the Moon). This Ark isn't proposing to send out any old dove, either-we've no use for an olive-branch. (To Mr. T.) That's Santa Lucia" they're singing now, Poppa. Mr. T. They don't appear to me to get the twist on it they did at Bellagio! Miss T. You mean that night CHARLEY took us out on the Lake?

Poor CHARLEY! he'd just love to be here he's ever so much artistic feeling!

Mr. T. Well, I don't see why he couldn't have come along if he'd wanted.

Miss T. (with a glance at her neighbour), I presume he'd reasons enough. He's a vurry cautious man. Likely he was afraid he'd get bitten.

Miss P. (after a swift scrutiny of Miss T.'s features). Oh, BOB, remind me to get some more of that mosquito stuff. I should so hate to be bitten-such a dreadful disfigurement!

Miss T. (to the Moon). I declare if I don't believe I can feel some creature trying to sting me now!

Miss P. Some people are hardly recognisable, BоB, and they say the marks never quite disappear!

Miss T. Poppa, don't you wonder what CHARLEY 's doing just now? I'd like to know if he's found anyone yet to feel an interest in the great Amurrcan Novel. It's curious how interested people do get in that novel, considering it's none of it written, and never will be. I guess sometimes he makes them believe he means something by it. They don't understand it's only CHARLEY'S way! Miss P. The crush isn't quite so bad now. Mr. PODBURY, if you will kindly ask your friend not to hold on to our gondola, we should probably be better able to turn. (CULCHARD, who had fondly imagined himself undetected, takes his hand away as if it were scorched.) Now we can get away. (To Gondolier.) Voltiamo, se vi piace, prestissimo!

[The gondola turns and departs. Miss T. Well, I do just enjoy making PRENDERGAST girl perfectly wild, and that's a fact. (Reflectively.) And it's queer, but I like her ever so much all the time. Don't you think that's too fonny of me, Mr. CULCHARD, now?

[CULCHARD feigns a poetic abstraction.

ONLY FANCY!

WE are supplied by our special reporter with some interesting and significant facts in connection with the last Cabinet Council. Lord SALISBUY arrived early, walking over from the Foreign Office under cover of an umbrella. The fact that it was raining may only partly account for this manœuvre. Lord CROSS arrived in a four-wheeled cab and wore his spectacles. Lord KNUTSFORD approached the Treasury walking on the left hand side of the road going westward, whilst Lord CRANBROOK deliberately chose the pavement on the other side of the way. This is regarded as indicating a coolness between the

A TRIAL IN NOVEL FORM.

SCENE-The Interior of Court during a sensational trial. Bench, Bar, and Jury in a state of wild excitement as to what will happen next.

Judge (mysteriously handing note to Bar engaged in the case). I have received this letter, which is deeply interesting. It will form appropriately what I may call our Third Volume. I hand it to Counsel, but they must keep it entirely to themselves.

First Leader (after perusal of document). Did you ever?
Second Leader (ditto). No I never!

Judge (greatly gratified). I thought I would surprise you! Yes, it came this afternoon, and I found it too startling to keep all to myself, so I have revealed the secret, on the condition you tell no one else. First Lead. You may rely on the discretion of my learned friend, my Lord.

Second Lead. My Lord, on the discretion of my learned friend you may rely.

OVER TIME IN LEAP YEAR.

Colonial Office and the Council of Education. Lord HALSBURY alighted from a bus at the bottom of Downing Street, accomplishing the rest of the journey on foot. He wore a new suit of the latest fashionable cut and a smile. Mr. STANHOPE, approaching Downing Street from the steps, started violently when he caught sight of a figure on the steps of the Treasury fumbling with the door-handle. He thought it was "VETUS," but recognising the Home Secretary, advanced without further hesitation. Lord GEORGE HAMILTON walked arm-in-arm as far as the door with Sir M. HICKS-BEACH. Here they were observed to hastily relieve themselves from contiguity and enter in single file. As they had up to that moment been engaged in earnest conversation, this little incident caused a sensation among the crowd looking on. The new Chief Secretary was easily recognised as he descended from his hansom with a sprig of shamrock in his coat and another of shillelagh in his right hand. Whilst waiting for change out of eighteenpence he softly whistled God Save Ireland." Mr. RITCHIE did not appear, pleading influenza. Our reporter informs us that there is more behind, and that before the Session is far advanced a change may be looked for at the Local Government Board.

Judge. Thank you (dipping his pen in the ink), and now we will go on with the case.

[A Witness is called he hides his

face under a cloak.

First Leader (in examinationin-chief). I think you wish to preserve your incognito ?

Wit. (in sepulchral tones). I do. But if his Lordship desires it, I will write my name on a piece of paper and pass it up.

Judge. Well, certainly, I think I ought to know everything, and- (Receives piece of paper disclosing the information, and starts back in his chair astonished). Dear me! Good gracious! Dear me !

First Lead. I think I should mention that I have not the faintest idea who this witness is, and only call him, acting under instructions. (To Witness.) Do you know anything about the matter in dispute?

Witness (with a sepulchral laugh). Ha! ha! ha! Nothing; Your question is indeed a good joke. Nothing, I repeat, absolutely nothing!

First Lead. (annoyed). Then you can sit down.

Second Lead. (sharply). Pardon me-not quite so fast! You say you know nothing about the matter in dispute, and yet you come here!

Witness (in a deeper voice than ever). Exactly.

Second Lead. But why, my dear Sir-Why? What is the point of it? Who may you

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be?

Witness. It is not may be-but who I am! Second Lead. Well, tell us who you are. (Persuasively.) Come, who are you?

Witness (throwing off his disguise). Who am I? Why, HAWKSHAW the Detective! Counsel Generally (to Judge). Then, my Lord, under the altered circumstances of the case, we can appear no longer before you. (With deep and touching emotion.) We retire from the case!

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Only Fancy!

Judge (not very appropriately). Then if Box and Cox are satisfied, all I can say is that I am. I may add that I consider that the case has been conducted nobly, and that I knew how it would end from the very first. I am thoroughly satisfied.

Jury. And so are we, my Lord-never so interested in our lives!

Newspaper Editor (departing). Ah, if we only had a trial like this every day, we should require but one line on the Contents Bill!

(Curtain.)

THE SAFEST NEW YEAR RESOLVE.-To make none.

NOTICE.-Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

n

ON A NEW YEARLING.
(Second Week.)

My fire was low; my bills were high;
My sip of punch was in its ladle;
The clarion chimes were in the sky;
The nascent year was in its cradle.

S

Second Week. Little 1892 grows rapidly, and begins to look about him.

In sober prose to tell my tale,

'Twas New Year's E'en, when, blind to danger,

All older-fashioned nurses hail

With joy "another little stranger."
The glass was in my hand-but, wait,
Methought, awhile! 'Tis early toasting
With pæans too precipitate

A baby scarce an outline boasting:
One week at least of life must flit

For me to match it with its brothers

I'll wager, like most infants, it

Is wholly different from others.

He frolics, latest of the lot,

A family prolific reckoned;

He occupies his tiny cot,

The eighteen-hundred-ninety-second! The pretty darling, gently nursed

Of course, he lies, and fondly petted"!
The eighteen-hundred-ninety-first

Is not, I fancy, much regretted.
You call him "fine"-he's great in size,
And "promising "-there issue from his
Tough larynx quite stentorian cries;

Such notes are haply notes of promise.
Look out for squalls, I tell you; soft

And dove-like atoms more engage us; Your fin-de-siècle child is oft

Loud, brazen, grasping, and rampageous.

You bid me next his eyes adore;

So "deep and wideawake," they beckon ; We've suffered lately on the score

Of "deep and wideawake," I reckon. You term me an "unfeeling brute,"

A "monster Herod-like," and so on-You may be right; I'll not dispute;

I'll cease a brat's good name to blow on.

Who'll read the bantling's dawning days?-
Precocious shall he prove, and harass
The world with inconvenient ways
And lisped conundrums that embarrass?
(Such as Impressionists delight

To offer each aesthetic gaper,

And faddists hyper-Ibsenite
Rejoice to perpetrate on paper ?)

Or, one of those young scamps perhaps
Who love to rig their bogus bogies,
And set their artful booby-traps
For over-unsuspicious fogies?
Or haply, only commonplace-
A plodding sort of good apprentice,

VOL. CII.

Who does his master's will with grace,
And hurries meekly where he sent is ?
And, when he grows apace, what
blend

Of genius, chivalry and daring,
What virtues might our little friend
Display to brighten souls despairing?
What quiet charities unknown,

What modest, openhanded kindness,
What tolerance in touch and tone
For braggart human nature's blind-
ness?

Or what-the worser part to view-
Of wanton waste and reckless gam-
bling,

What darker paths shall he pursue

With sacrilegious step and shambling? What coarse defiance, haply, hurl

At lights beyond his comprehensionAn attitudinising churl

Who struts with ludicrous preten-
sion.

I know not-only this I know,
They're getting overstrained, my
ditties,

This kind of poem ought to flow

Less like a solemn "Nunc Dimittis." 'Twas jaunty when I struck my lyre, And jaunty seems this yearling baby; But, as both year and song expire They're sadder, each, and wiser, maybe.

POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG. "Hi-tiddley-hi-ti; or, I'm All Right" is heard, "all over the place," as light sleepers and studious dwellers in quiet streets are too well aware. Why should it not be enlisted in the service of Apollo and Momus as well as of the Back Slum Bacchus? As thus:

No. V.-I-TWADDLEY-HIGH-DRYHIGH-TONED-I! OR, I'M ALL RIGHT! AIR-"Hi-Tiddley-Hi-Ti!"

I'm a young writer grimly gay,
My volumes sell, and sometimes pay.
First log-rollers raised a rumour of a rising
Star of Humour,

Who had faced the Sphinx called Life,
With amusing misery rife,

So with sin, and woe, and strife, 1 thought
I'd have a lark.

With pessimistic pick I pottered round
Pottered round,

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A new funny "trick I quickly found, Smart and sound,

Life's cares in hedonistic chuckles drowned, You be bound!

The cynic lay

I found would pay,

In a young Man of Mark!

Chorus.

All of you come along with me!
I'm for a rare new fine new spree!
Everybody is delighted when the Philistines
are slighted,

All of you come my books to try!
I-twaddley-I-ti I-I-I,

Ego for ever! Buy! Buy! Buy!
And I'm all right!

Down with the West I go; my pen
Is bound to "fetch" the Upper Ten,
With the aid of some "log-rolling," my
"distinction" much extolling.

Smart little scribes from near and far
Say, with a sniff, "O here's a Star!"
DICKENS on fine souls doth jar, THACKERAY is
too dry,

But his pessimistic air, rich and rare,
Subtle, fair,

C

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All of you come along with me! You'll have a rare new fair new spree! Paradox with "sniff" united, Poor Humanity snubbed and slighted.

Humour's new cuvée, extra-dry. Come and worship the pessimist "I" I-twaddley--high-dry-high-toned I! For that's all right!

After I've taken the toffish Town, A second edition, at Half-a-crown, Seeks the suffrages-(and money, for on Swelldom you 'll go stoney'

Of the much derided Mob. Yes, the Proletariat "Bob" (With the Guinea of the Nob) must aid the Sons of Light.

Gath and Askelon, you see, can give Me, L. S. D. [three All true Egoists love those pregnant letters Mystic Three! Flout Philistia with great glee, fair and free, But agree To take its "tin," Though with a grin Of pessimistic spite.

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