room or the dust-hole is the proper place for them."

"I know you objected to my own likeness -you see the connection with the donkey, dear?" I sometimes make rather humorous remarks during the continuance of the festive

A DREAM OF THE NEW WOMAN.

SHE dreamed the doom that Fate pronounces Against the woman ceased to be,

She dreamed her brain weighed three more ounces

And was of finer quality.

Her iron nerves all fear derided,

She saw a mouse, but did not run.
With pockets she was well provided,
And she could fire a Maxim gun.
She had abjured each female folly,
Hygienic dress she always wore,
With stern, determined melancholy
The universe she pondered o'er.
Of man in all respects the equal,
At last her heart's desire was hers.
Only, like every other sequel,

Her sequel proved a touch perverse.

She sighed, "My mind with facts is loaded, No golden vision it retains.

Even Nirvana is exploded,

And, save the Atom, nought remains!

"Each ray of light a mental prism

Must needs determine and arrest.

My life is one long syllogism,
Without a parenthetic jest.

"I who was wont to kneel revering,
In manly chivalry confide,

Am all alone my vessel steering-
And yet I am unsatisfied!

"The gingerbread has lost its gilding
That from afar appeared sublime.

I for eternity am building

'Twas not amiss to build for time!

"The pilgrimage was long and painful,
Cheerless and cold the heights I win-
About me hangs a shadow baneful
Of the Eternal Feminine.

Alas, I have not learned my lesson!
I feel a frantic, mad despair.
I'd like to put an evening dress on,
And many roses in my hair!
"My heart desires the old romances,
The fictions dear all facts above,
The flowers, the ices, and the dances,

The days of youth, the days of-Love.
"That giddy whirl, that senseless splendour,
Was dear, although I said it bored-
Agnosticism I'd surrender

Once, once again, to be adored

"I wished my brain had three more ounces, For them I bartered happiness;

That brain the new régime denounces,
I wish it had three ounces less!"

She woke. A subtle sense pervaded
Her mind of being someone great;
But very speedily it faded,

And she regained her normal state.
She said: "I'd beat them all at college
If I could have those ounces back;
Only-I should not like my knowledge
To make me cleverer than-JACK!

"WHO SAID-ATROCITIES'?" OR, "THERE'S LIFE IN THE OLD DOG YET." ["It was my fate, my fortune, about, I think, eighteen years ago to take an active part with regard to other outrages, which first came up in the shape of rumour, but were afterwards well verified, in Bulgaria.... Old as I am, my feelings have not been deadened in regard to matters of such a dreadful description."-Mr. Gladstone's Birthday Speech at Hawarden, December 29, 1894, on the alleged Armenian Atrocities.]

RETIREMENT? Oh, rubbish! Tykes currish or cubbish

May curl up in kennels, or snug up in straw, But dogs of right mettle to rest will not settle, While sight's in the eye, and while snap's in the jaw.

A bed in a basket? Mere mongrels may ask it. A couch and a cushion? They're lap-dog delights.

But pluck and true breeding, such comforts unheeding,

Desert laps and hearth-rugs for frolics and fights.

Retired! How rats chortle! Like "Rab" the immortal

This dog scorns dull rest, and is still "rough on rats."

As always delighting in "plenty o fechting," He pricks up his ears at a whisper of 8-8-scats!"

Aslumber and dreaming? Oh, that is mere seeming,

Curled up tail to muzzle in cosiest sort. His hairs are a-bristle at whisper or whistle That gives the least promise of scrimmage or sport.

On rats he's still ruthless! They may think him toothless, [fangs. Those red Turkish rodents who once felt his

THE VESTRYMAN.

A COMIC SONG FOR SERIOUS CON

SIDERATION.

(By an Elderly Victim or
Bumbledom.)

["The London Vestries and Boards of Works have not exactly covered themselves with glory in their dealings with the recent snowfall. In very few neighbourhoods was any attempt made on Wednesday to remove the slush, and Nature having taking her course during the night, in the direction of a frost early yesterday morning, the streets in many places were absolutely impassable for wheeled traffic until liberal layer of sand and gravel had been spread." Daily Chronicle, January 4.]

I groan, and wonder why.

I blow my blue numb fingers,
I watch a fast-stuck van;
Reform, I cry, seems all my eye.
Where is that Vestryman ?
Chorus.

Slush! Slush!! Slush!!!
Why is this, Vestryman?
Is this the outcome shady

M

GRADATION.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. MR. RUDOLF LEHMANN possesses some gifts which peculiarly qualify him to write the volume SMITH, ELDER & Co. publish, under the title An Artist's Remi niscences. He has passed the age of three-score and ten, and has throughout that period had many opportunities of seeing places, and, more precious, of meeting people. To the study of both he brings keen sight, a good memory, and a genuine, not too obtrusive, sense of humour. Born in Hamburg in 1819, he has sojourned in most of the capitals of Europe, permanently settling down to marriage and life in London. He seems to have known most of the notable of the middle and personages latter half of the century. His wide acquaintance with royalty (some of them mad) would be appalling if it were not mentioned with winning modesty. The volume abounds in good stories, my Baronite particularly delighting in one pertaining to the ceremony of prorogation of parliament by the QUEEN. Mr. LEAMANN was much struck with the spectacle of the old Duke of WELLINGTON carrying the sword of state, Lord LANSDOWNE bearing the crown, and the Marquis of WINCHESTER with the cap of maintenance set on red velvet cushion. At Lady GRANVILLE'S the same evening he asked Lord GRANVILLE what was the significance of the cap of maintenance. It was one of the few things Lord GRANVILLE did not know. "But," he said, "there is Lord WINCHESTER, who carried it this morning. I will go and ask him." The two peers conversed in a whisper, and Lord GRANA-VILLE, returning to his inquiring

Of the Progressive plan? Ob, Slush! Slush! Slush! No gravel, sand, or tan! All slip and slop. I'd like to whop That blessed Vestryman!!!

TRAVELS IN TAFFY-LAND; OR,

WALES BLOWING.

[The Flint Town Council has censured the L. & N. W. Railway for dismissing some of its servants for ignorance of the English language.]

WOULD you tell me, Porter, if the next train is the one for Aberystwyth?

I am really very much obliged for your reply, but as I have not a Cymric dictionary at hand, I am totally unable even to guess at your meaning.

As the man points to the train which is now at the platform, and nods vigorously, I suppose he means me to get in. Still, the fact that it has "Llanrhychwyn 99 on it makes me a little doubtful whether I shall ever reach Aberystwyth if I enter it.

I am grateful for your attention, Guard, but it was a foot-warmer that I asked for, not the newspaper-boy.

As I have just been hurled down an em

bankment and find myself sitting much bruised in a shallow pond in a field close to the line, I really fancy that the Welsh-speaking signalman at the adjoining cabin has failed to understand the message wired to him in English from our last stopping station.

I should be glad, Stationmaster, if you would kindly have a telegram sent to my friends saying that I have only four ribs broken.

As you do not appear to understand what I say, and as I suppose there is nobody who knows English in this desolate Welsh valley where the sufferers from the accident are lying, perhaps you will kindly have us all sent back to Shrewsbury as soon as possible.

The man lying next to me, whose arm is hurt, says that the train was not going to Aberystwyth at all. So perhaps it is as well that circumstances have prevented my proceeding further in it.

We should undoubtedly have been much better off if this accident had happened to us in France or Germany, because then we should have been able to secure the services of the railway interpreter.

Thank Heaven! I am back at Chester, where the hotel people do talk English; and in future I shall vote steadily at elections against any party that does not make the total suppression of all so-called "national tongues within the British Isles a part of its recognised programme.

either." Mr. LEHMANN incidentally mentions that his brother HENRY's first success, at the Salon of 1835, was gained by a picture setting forth "Le Départ du Jeune Tobie." At that date TOBY had not even arrived to take his place on the volumes in his master's study, and, still less, was he M.P. for Barks. It only shows how prophetic is the soul of genius.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.