SCENE III.--_The Study._ Mr. TOOVEY and CHARLES _are alone together_.

Mr. TOOVEY _has found it impossible to come to the point_.

_Charles (looking at his watch)._ I say, Uncle, I'm afraid I must trouble you for that wigging at once, if I'm going to catch my train back. You've only seven-and-a-half minutes left to exhort me in, so make the most of it.

_Mr. T. (with embarrassment)._ Yes, CHARLES, but--I don't wish to be hard on you, my boy--we are all liable to err, and--and, in point of fact, the reason I was a little upset at the mention of the Eldorado is, that a very dear old friend of mine, CHARLES, has lately lost a considerable sum through investing in a Company of the same name--and, just for the moment, it struck me that it might have been the music-hall--which of course is absurd, eh?

_Charles._ Rather! He couldn't possibly have lost it in the _music-hall_, Uncle; it's ridiculous!

_Mr. T. (relieved)._ Just what I thought. A man in his--ah--responsible position--oh no. But he's lost it in this other Company. And they've demanded a hundred and seventy-five pounds over and above the five hundred he paid on his shares. Now _you_ know the law. Can they _do_ that, CHARLES? Is he legally liable to pay?

_Charles._ Couldn't possibly say without knowing all the facts. It's a Limited Company, I suppose?

_Mr. T._ I--I don't know, CHARLES, but I can show you the official document which--ah--happens to be in my hands. I'm afraid I didn't examine it very carefully--I was too upset. (_He goes to his secrétaire, and returns with a paper, which he offers for_ CHARLES'S _inspection_.) You won't mind my covering up the name? My--my friend wouldn't care for it to be seen--I'm sure.

_Charles (glances at the top of the paper, and roars with laughter)._ I say, Uncle, your friend _must_ be a jolly old juggins!

_Mr. T. (miserably)._ I don't think he could be described as _jolly_ just now, CHARLES.

_Charles._ No, but I mean, not all there, you know--trifle weak in the upper story.

_Mr. T. (with dignity)._ He never professed to be a man of business, CHARLES, any more than myself, and his inexperience was shamefully abused--_most_ shamefully!

_Charles._ Abused! But look here, Uncle, do you mean to say you don't see that this is a dividend warrant!

_Mr. T._ I believe that is what they call it. And--and is he bound to send them a cheque for it at once, CHARLES?

_Charles._ Send them a cheque? Great SCOTT! Why it _is_ a cheque! They're paying _him_. It's the half-yearly dividend on his five hundred, at the rate of seventy per cent. And he was going to----Oh, Lord!

_Mr. T. (rising, and shaking C.'s hands with effusion)._ My _dear_ CHARLES; how can I thank you? If you _knew_ what a load you've taken off my mind! Then the Company _isn't_ bankrupt--it's paying seventy per cent.! Why, I needn't mind telling your Aunt. (_With restored complacency._) Of course, my boy, I have never occupied myself with City matters--but, none the less, I believe I can trust my natural shrewdness--I had a sort of instinct, CHARLES, from the first, that that mine was perfectly sound. I knew I could trust LARKINS.

_Charles._ _You_, Uncle! Then it was _you_ who was your friend all the time? Oh, you're really _too_ rich, you know!

_Mr. T._ I have never desired it; but it will certainly be a very useful addition to our--ah--modest income, CHARLES. But you should check yourself, my boy, in this--ah--immoderate laughter. There is nothing that I can see to cause such mirth in the fact of your Uncle's having made a fortunate investment in a gold-mine.

_Charles (as soon as he can speak)._ But it _ain't_ a mine, Uncle, it--it's the music-hall! Give you my word it is. If you don't believe me, look at the address on the warrant, and you'll see it's the same as on this programme. You're a shareholder in the Eldorado Palace of Varieties, Piccadilly!

_Mr. T. (falling back)._ No, CHARLES! I--I acquired them in the most perfect innocence!

_Charles._ Innocence! I'd back you for that against an entire Infant School, Uncle. But I say, I must be off now. If I were you, I _wouldn't_ mention this to Aunt. And look here. I'd better leave you this. (_He hands him the Eldorado programme._) It's more in your line than mine now.

[_He goes out, and is heard chuckling in the hall and down to the front gate._

_Mr. T. (alone)._ That ribald, unfeeling boy! _What_ a Sunday I've had! And how am I ever to tell CORNELIA now? (_A bell rings._) That's to call the servants up to prayers. (_He stuffs the programme into his pocket hastily, and rises._) No, I can't. I _can't_ conduct family prayers with the knowledge that I'm a shareholder in--in a Palace of Varieties! I shall slip quietly off to bed.

_Ph[oe]be (entering)._ Missus wished me to tell you she was only waiting for you, Sir.

_Mr. T._ PH[OE]BE, tell your mistress I'm feeling poorly again, and have gone to bed. (_To himself._) If I could only be sure I don't talk in my sleep!

[_He shuffles upstairs._

END OF SCENE III.

* * * * *

A (FREQUENTLY) RISING M.P.--Mr. T. G. BOWLES is quite "a new boy" in the House, yet has he none of the diffidence of most other new boys. His continuous questions and his easy oratory will win for him the styles and titles of "The Flowing BOWLES" and "The Sparkling BOWLES." If _Mr. P._ adopts him as a frequent and favourite subject for an object lesson, such as were SIBTHORPE and some others in past times, he may attain the very highest position as "BOWLES of _Punch_."

* * * * *

* * * * *

POLITICS IN SOUTH AMERICA.

(_From our Special Correspondent on the Spot._)

_Monday._--Everyone is afraid that the action of the Government in imposing a tax upon cycles will have serious effects. Although the fleet do not use the carriages thus surcharged, it is not unlikely the armour-plated cruiser _Impartial_ may threaten to bombard the capital. Altogether the situation is critical.

_Tuesday._--My fears were well-founded. The capital has been bombarded, but not on account of the cycle tax, but to show that the commander of the armour-plated cruiser _Impartial_ objects to the proposed equalisation of Poor Rates. Fortunately the Government torpedo-catcher _Cupid_ was able to beat off the _Impartial_ before serious damage could be done. Still, the question of the acquisition of the telegraphs is causing much excitement amongst the army.

_Wednesday._--My worst fears are realised. The General in command of the garrison has made the Church Tithes question a _casus belli_. As the Government insisted upon proceeding with the second reading, the General thought it his duty to set fire to all the public offices. This is considered to be an extreme step by many important members of the Opposition.

_Thursday._--This morning dense bodies of troops arrived opposite the House of Representatives, with a view to bringing pressure to bear upon the opponents to the Public Baths and Wash-house Bill, which it will be remembered passed through the Committee stage with the assistance of a cavalry regiment and three batteries of artillery.

_Friday._--The Budget has disappointed both the fleet and the army, the combined forces have taken possession of the capital, and the Government is practically overturned.

_Saturday._--Matters are still unsettled. The capital is still in possession of the insurgents. The Premier has been released on condition that he promises to bring in a Bill for the improvement of the Law of Bankruptcy early next Session. It is rumoured that a body of fresh troops are on their way to the metropolis in charge of a measure for the Abolition of Tithes, which they desire to carry through the Upper House at the point of the bayonet.

_Sunday._--The Admiral commanding the fleet, having proclaimed himself Dictator, attended church in state. On his way back to his palace he was surrounded by the troops, and, after a tough engagement, was forced to retire to his flag-ship with heavy loss. The garrison would have attended the afternoon service _en grande tenue_ had not the fleet opened fire upon the recently evacuated cathedral. In spite of recent events the populace still exhibit uneasiness.

* * * * *

FINE SUBJECT FOR HEROIC HISTORICAL CARTOON.--"'TOMMY' BOWLES challenging a division." Imagine it! Grand! but unfortunately the subject too late for pictorial treatment by one of _Mr. P.'s_ young men this week. Think how many would go to make up a "Division"!! Remember that TOMMY is but a Unit. "Unit is strength," says T. G. B.

* * * * *

THE UNEXPECTED.--_Youthful Hereditary Legislator (seen for the first time in the neighbourhood of Westminster last week, inquires of Policeman)._ "Aw--can you--ar--direct me to the--aw--House of Lords?"

* * * * *

* * * * *

"OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY!"

[Mr. GLADSTONE has gone on a visit to Mr. GEORGE ARMITSTEAD, at Black Craig Castle, Perthshire. Mr. HENRY GLADSTONE stated that the Prime Minister would receive no deputations, and that the holiday would be purely recuperative.]

_Pensive Premier museth_:--

Purely recuperative! Ah! precisely. Leave me alone, and I shall manage nicely. How the bees boom amidst the purple heather! Better than BOWLES and BARTLEY! (_Yawn._) Wonder whether _They_'re "booming" still about Sir WILLIAM'S head; Buz-wuz! Buz-wuz! And raspy Russell, red With Orange rage, shakes he a towzled crest? Creaks he continual challenge, spear in rest? Wags he a menacing fore-finger still At me through stout Sir WILLIAM? Poor Sir WILL! How he'd like _this_! How little he likes _that_! Purely recuperative! Here I've sat Since luncheon--ruminating, reading, napping, Thank heaven I cannot hear Lord KELVIN clapping CASTLETOWN'S callow clap-trap. All is still. There's nothing near I wish to stalk or kill. Like Melancholy _Jaques_, I can note The branchy antlers and the dappled coat Of "poor sequestered stag," and yet not yearn To--make him venison. Yon brabbling burn Makes mellower music in my Scottish ears. Then the MACALLUM'S slogan. How the cheers Of SALISBURY must have fired him as he smote; Hacked at my character, hewed at my throat Like "sullen spearsman" upon Flodden field. The claymore, like his sires, he loved to wield. They lost their heads he says, for England's weal, And he--well, has he not lost _his_?

I feel The mellow moorland air, gorse-scented, bland With heather odour, soothes me, like the hand Of gentle woman on an angry brow. Were the great-little Scotsman with me now, Like proud MCGREGOR on his native heath, Breathing pure-scented, honey-laden breath, How his cock-nose would drop, his flaming crest Droop and unruffle! He's a scold confest, A pedagogue incarnate; horn-book, tawse. Cramming and chastisement, not making laws, His talent and his temperament best befit. Yet--once he lent his eloquence and wit To aid the man he now maligns. Ah, me! "Tricky!"--"corrupt!" What arrant fiddle-de-dee It sounds--upon these moors, beneath the blue Of unpolluted skies!

HOMER, to you I turn. ACHILLES in his wrath could rage, But scarce would stoop the wordy war to wage With poisoned epithet and shrewish flout Like scorpion-tongued THERSITES.

Here, no doubt, By Black Craig Castle party wasps would turn To honey-hiving bees. Oh, tinkling burn, You set my soul to music. HONEST JOHN, Valiant Sir WILLIAM, you must still fight on A little longer. Would ye both were here. ARMITSTEAD'S guests, like me, like me with cheer "Purely recuperative" holiday To take--"Over the Hills and Far Away!"

[_Left lolling like a Lotus-eater._

* * * * *

AN OLD FRIEND DUE NORTH.

For a really humorous drawing commend me to the picture in the _Daily Graphic_ of Saturday, September 9, representing "the civic procession to the luncheon given to Lord and Lady ABERDEEN by the Lord Mayor of Liverpool." The stately party is preceded by a Piper--of course, it is his worship the Mayor and common councillors who pay the piper and call the tune on this occasion--who is stepping out jauntily. But notice his glance; notice the Mayor's expression as he tries to prevent himself laughing, and hides one eye with the sword of State; notice Lord and Lady ABERDEEN, the latter looking a trifle annoyed, while his Lordship is struggling with painfully suppressed merriment. What is it that has nearly upset their gravity and spoilt the procession? The explanation is at hand. On the left of the picture in the foreground stands, _en evidence_ it is true, but with a reverential air as of one who knows his place in society and keeps it, our old friend and contributor, _Robert the Waiter_!! It must be he. It is the very man, unless he has a Scotch double, or unless he was born a twin, and the other ROBERT was a Scotchman. There he is. Get the paper and see.

* * * * *

NOAH'S ARK MASONRY.--For the first time _Mr. Punch_, G.A.U.W.G.M., and Past Grand Everybody, met with mention of the "Royal Ark Mariners." Do they belong to an offshoot, or rather an Olive Branch, of Free-Masonry? "There are 3980 of them," says the _Daily Telegraph_. Where do they meet? In an Ark? Do they enter in pairs? Of course, NOAH himself was a Mason, seeing that aboard his own vessel _he_ was Sailing Master of the Craft.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE MAN IN THE SOUTH.

Having on some occasions during, I admit, the spring and autumn, spent a few days at Pinemouth on the South-Western Coast, and having had the enormous value of the place as an ultra salubrious health-restorer most energetically impressed upon me from time to time by such thoroughly disinterested persons as local members of the medical profession who, as a rule, took their holiday during the summer season, merely because they couldn't get the opportunity at any other time--a fact in itself going a long way (as they themselves did--to Switzerland and elsewhere) to prove the peculiar healthfulness of this seaside resort, and the place having been further highly recommended (by residents who, having houses to let for the summer, were quite disinterested) as quiet and delightfully refreshing, and having, in fact, heard all that could be said in favour of Pinemouth as a Summer Resort by those who had only the welfare of their dear friends at heart (and if such interest did put a little ready capital in their pockets through taking their dear friends' houses--where is the harm?), I, ROBINSON CRUSOE, Jun., "The Man of the First of August" (that being the beginning of my tenancy) determined on trying Pinemouth (a name that I find spelt with unpardonable familiarity in some local guide-books, thus--"P'm'th"--an abbreviation leaving the name scarcely a shred of its original character), and when I say so boldly, "_I_ determined," any other Paterfamilias will at once know what _that_ means.

Of course, directly "P'm'th" was decided upon, some of our friends shook their heads, others observed dubiously that "they _had_ heard it wasn't such a _very_ bad place in August," while the majority bade me farewell with forced cheeriness, expressed the heartiest hopes for our health and happiness in the new climate we were going to try, and in a general way our excellent friends and acquaintances were almost as enthusiastic and hopeful on the score of our enjoying ourselves and benefiting by the change, as were the American acquaintances of _Martin Chuzzlewit_ and _Mark Tapley_ when those two emigrants were starting for the great dismal swamp.

Finding that we had made all our arrangements, and had actually signed and sealed the bond, and delivered ourselves over into the hands of the "P'm'thians," our friends, who, as we subsequently ascertained, had never been near the place, or, if they had, had been there at a hopelessly wrong time, and had pitched their tents in an utterly wrong quarter, made ill-disguised attempts at speaking gently and kindly of "P'm'th," allowing that possibly "it might not, at this time of year, be so hot as had been represented,"--a theory which, like one recently put forward by a tender-hearted theologian, was immediately placed in the _Index Expurgatorius_ by the Inevitable Uncompromising One who professed a thorough knowledge of the climate, and who asserted that in this particular year, when the Summer had been abnormally hot and was going to be more abnormally hot than ever, we should find "P'm'th" absolutely unbearable.

But, as the adventurous hero of "_Excelsior_" would listen to nobody, so I (representing "we") refused to hear the prognosticators of woe, and adhered manfully to my purpose. In the very hottest season, when the thermometer in every London house went so high that it had to be deluged with wholesome antiseptic Condyment, and doors and windows were everywhere left open so as to obtain a through draught,--for people lived on draughts of all sorts in those doggiest of dog-days and on little else,--we, that is all the CRUSOES, were seated in our garden looking on to the heather and the sea, open to all the winds of heaven--and getting one of them, the south-east, blowing softly and sweetly across our south-western height. Gracefully and gratefully we arose to play tennis, and sat down again after the evening meal to take our coffee and cigarettes. Bless thee, P'm'th! thou art delicious! thou art refreshing! Hot in the hottest August ever known thou certainly art, that is, at midday, down in your valley and your town! But up above on the Western Heights, looking across an expanse of purple and yellow, uninclosed by firs, pines, or larches, on to the broad expanse of the deep blue sea, thou art all my fancy painted thee, thou art cucumbery in thy coolness! and as I think of Royat and Aix-les-Bains I smile a smile of gentle pitying wonder, and almost feel inclined to piously pray for all poor bodies suffering from the canicular heat, whether London doth still hold them in its toils, or stifling, smelling Continental cities, are causing them to sigh for the balmy breezes of Old England.

Thus then is it that "P'm'th"--that is "Pinemouth" in its abbreviated form--is the place about which, as being comparatively unknown at this season of the year, I beg to offer to _Mr. Punch_, and through him to the world at large, for the ultimate benefit of way-worn travellers, a few notes representing an uncommonly pleasant experience, which, by the kind permission of "_Mr. P'n'h_" aforesaid, shall be "continued in our next" by

"THE MAN IN THE SOUTH."

* * * * *

A WORD TO THE WEATHERWISE.

[_Sir John Bridge_: Don't you think there is a great deal of chance as to the weather we are to have to-morrow? _Mr. Muir Mackenzie_: No. _Sir John Bridge_: The mass of mankind think there is. _Mr. Muir Mackenzie_: Unfortunately the mass of mankind are very ignorant.--Bow Street Police Court, Wednesday, September 6.]

Oh, Mr. MUIR MACKENZIE! we're right glad To hear this news of meteorology. Farewell to all the many doubts we've had, The thing's as easy now as A B C. _You_ know to-morrow's weather at a glance, So, though we would not willingly o'ertask you, When next we seek the weather in advance, We'll simply drop a letter-card to ask you.

* * * * *

A CURE.--"No," said Mrs. R., after some consideration, "although I do feel a touch of rheumatism now and then, yet I do not fancy going abroad for treatment. There's some place where you drink waters and take a bath, and then are tucked up in bed for the remainder of the day. It's in Germany, I fancy, and I think they call the place _Underdelinen_."

* * * * *

A HINT.

You read my verse; the praises you bestow Can make innocuous the critic's curse, Vain his attack, unfelt his shrewdest blow, _You_ read my verse.

You like the rhymes; think not their writer worse If just one hint he cannot well forego, The bard, to put it in a manner terse, Does not exist on praise alone, you know, And sympathy can hardly fill his purse;-- You borrow, and you do not _buy_, although You read my verse!

* * * * *

"GONE NAP!"--It is all up with Mr. G.! The distinguished M.P. for St. Pancras, in whose lineaments _Mr. Punch_ traced a marked resemblance to the features of the Great Emperor of the French, and there and thenceforth raising him from the rank of Mr. PELL as he was formerly known, immediately christening him "NAPOLEON BOLTONPARTY" (with likeness drawn by LIKA-JOKO), even he has joined the Unionist Opposition. He is no longer "Going Nap," he has gone. Doubtless, Conservatives have their eye on him: but NAPOLEON BOLTONPARTY is too wary to be caught "napping."

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, September 4._--What happened to-night in connection with the Blameless BARTLEY, Bart., should have useful effect in checking the tendencies of the censorious. Having settled business arrangements by moving Resolution, Mr. G. skipped out of House to pack up for his journey to Scotland. No boy at end of term more eager for holiday; none more thoroughly earned. In heat of discussion going forward on details of Resolution Mr. G.'s departure not generally noticed. Only one faithful eye--or, to be precise, a couple--followed his passage behind SPEAKER'S chair. Eyes dimmed with tears. For months, from early February to these young September days, BARTLEY, Bart., has sat opposite Mr. G., has, so to speak, lived in his large and magnificent eye. Now association about to be dissevered by withdrawal of the stately presence from Treasury Bench. And only the other day he had referred to BARTLEY as "the Hon. Baronet"!

For a while BARTLEY, Bart., sat silent and sorrowing. If it had been the custom to wear sackcloth on the Opposition benches, and any ashes had been handy, he would undoubtedly have endeavoured to discover what secret consolation their use conveys. Nothing of the kind to be had on the premises. After brooding for a while, he up and spoke. "Where's the PRIME MINISTER?" he cried aloud. House hardly recognised in this wailing voice the stern accents with which it is familiar from the same quarter. "It is not proper that the House should sit without the PRIME MINISTER."

SQUIRE OF MALWOOD (after all a kind-hearted man, quick to sympathy) endeavoured to comfort the Bereaved. "Not proper," he exclaimed, "for House to sit without presence of PRIME MINISTER! Why, for six years we had no Prime Minister here."

"That's all very well, but," as BARTLEY, still weeping for the PREMIER and not to be comforted, subsequently observed to Admiral FIELD, "you can't mend a broken heart by a quip." HANBURY and TOMMY BOWLES did their best to soothe him; walked him up and down the Terrace; gave him a cup of tea, a bottle of smelling salts, and a cabinet portrait of Mr. G. But it was only late at night, when House had got into Committee, he so far recovered as to move to reduce a vote by £100, in order to plead for some amelioration of the lot of the Treasury Valuer.

_Business done._--Arrangements completed for Autumn Session.

_House of Lords, Tuesday._--Remember one night in years gone by, whilst HARTINGTON was still with us in the Commons, he interrupted one of his own speeches by a portentous yawn. Complimented him on the feat; few men, I said, would have the pluck to do it; might yawn at other people's speeches, but never at their own.

"Ah, TOBY," said COUNTY GUY, "you don't know how dem'd dull the speech was. You only had to listen to some of it. I had to deliver it all."

Thought of this to-night listening to old friend in Lords, now scarcely disguised as Duke of DEVONSHIRE. Spoke for nearly two hours. Those who read it will find speech admirable; one of the best, most weighty, indictments of Home Rule and the tactics that have brought it into position of Ministerial measure. But alack! for those who heard it, or, at least, sat through the two hours; not many, all told; an hour enough for THE MACULLUM MORE; other Peers on both sides of House folded their tents like the Arab, and as silently stole away. The MARKISS gallantly kept his place, sitting for some time with closed eyes, the better to concentrate his attention. PRINCE ARTHUR and JOEY C.--lovely in the Commons, in the Lords not divided--stood sturdily on either side of the Throne. "The Lion and the Unicorn supporting the Crown," said ROSEBERY, glancing across at them.

For the ladies in the gallery, mothers and daughters, DEVONSHIRE not so attractive a _parti_ as was HARTINGTON. Still, he is a pillar of the Union, a brand snatched from the burning pile to which the wicked hand of Mr. G. applied the traitrous torch. So they sat and listened--half an hour, three-quarters of an hour, an hour. Then was heard the light rustle of dainty dresses; doors softly opened along the Gallery; for a moment a fair figure stood framed in it, with guilty glance around to see if she was observed; then, with winning "back-in-five-minutes" look on innocent face, she hastily stepped out.

The Duke saw none of these things nor cared for them. He had a duty to perform, and long before OLD MORALITY was heard of, the CAVENDISHES did their duty. He plodded on through the melancholy night; stolidly turning over the pages of his notes; stubbornly repressing a growing tendency to yawn; catching his voice up when it wearily sank to the level of his boots; making most pathetic effort to keep it going. Usually it fell away at the end of the third or fourth sentence, to be pulled up with harsh jerk at commencement of one that followed. A good man struggling with the adversity of having to make a speech on a topic harried to death in the other House through course of over eighty days.

"Yes," said the Member for Sark, waking up from gentle slumber indulged in in corner seat at end of Gallery; "but why didn't he halve his adversity? If he'd been content with an hour we should all have been grateful, and he would have been spared a moiety of his anguish."

_Business done._--Second Reading of Home-Rule Bill moved in House of Lords.

_Thursday._--Again a crowded assembly in Lords to-night to hear its most brilliant Member. The Bishops, in great force, clustered, a group of fluttering white lawn, on right of Woolsack. "The white flower of a blameless Parliamentary life," the MARKISS says of them. Not an inch of red benches visible on Opposition side. Even Ministerial benches full, though, as was made clear in course of debate, not all who sit there are Ministerialists. ROSEBERY, looking more boyish than ever, sat amid the elders on Front Bench; makes no sign of intention to follow SELBORNE; takes no note nor betrays other evidence of uneasiness. SELBORNE preaches for hour and half. Understood to be sermon worthy of his fame; we Commoners in gallery over bar could hear only fragmentary portions of sentences. Reported that SELBORNE had lost his notes; Member for Sark recognises most kindly interposition of Providence.

"If he speaks for hour and half with only recollection of his notes where would he have been if he had them?" Must get WEIR to put that conundrum to CHANCELLOR of the Exchequer.

Grateful to ROSEBERY, since at least we can hear him, though he, too, now and then falls into habit of dropping end of sentence. This the less excusable, since none of them are heavy. A clever speech, scarcely obscuring what seems to be difficult position. "Dancing among the eggs," is BALFOUR OF BURGHLEY'S commentary. Of all listeners in the brilliant throng none so attentive as the MARKISS. Seems, on the whole, to like speech better than does SPENCER.

"Reminds me, TOBY," MARKISS says, "of what LOVELACE wrote to LUCASTA, 'on going to the wars.' How does it run?

I could not love Home Rule so much Loved I not GLADSTONE more."

In the Commons pegging away at estimates; occasional explosions; JOSEPH, popping in from Lords, said a few genial words just to keep matters going, and disappeared again. Came back after midnight in time to have a round with SQUIRE OF MALWOOD.

Uneasy feeling prevalent consequent on announcement made early in sitting that charwoman employed in service of House has died of cholera. This regarded as being exceedingly inconsiderate. Questions usually every day about cholera at Grimsby and Hull. That all very well; an incident possible to regard with philosophical mind. But cholera in our own kitchen quite another sort of microbe.

"I'm a family man," said COBB. "It's no use denying it, and I will not attempt it. Was thinking of staying to see this out; begin to think the Session unduly prolonged. In short, if I may quote an old proverb adapted to the occasion, I would say, When cholera comes in by the window COBB goes out by the door." _Business done._--Third night Home-Rule debate in Lords. Supply in Commons.

_Saturday_, 1 A.M.--All up with Little Bill-ee. His worst fears are realised. Whilst Captain WILLYUM: has been having a quiet, restful time among the heather, Guzzling BOB and Gorging HARTY have worked their wicked will on the Innocent. Snickersees have been drawn; blows have been dealt; the hunger of Ulster has been satisfied; Little Bill-ee has been killed and eaten.

"Just so," said the LORD CHANCELLOR from behind his wig; "a meal eagerly partaken of. Now we've nothing to do but to wait awhile, and see how it agrees with them. You remember, TOBY, the letters engraved on the tomb of her late husband by the sorrowing widow in Ohio?

S. Y. L.

'See you later,' she explained to inquiring friends, was its portent. S. Y. L., Little Bill-ee, S. Y. L.!"

_Business done._--Lords throw out Home-Rule Bill by 419 Votes against 41.

* * * * *

Sartorial.

"Naked and not ashamed" our "Interests" stand, "Scourge of our Toil, monopolist of our Land!" So someone says. But 'twill be found, if tested, These "naked" interests are mostly _vested_.

* * * * *

A REAL "MAYOR'S NEST."--The platform (presided over by the Mayor of Bristol) on the occasion of the opening of the Bristol Fine Art and Industrial Exhibition. (See Illustrated Papers _passim_.)

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR A MAN REPRIEVED FROM THE GALLOWS.--No noose is good news.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Note:

Damaged and missing punctuation has been repaired.

Page 122: 'fragant' corrected to 'fragrant'. '(Fair laden with "the fragrant weed"), "A Quiet Pipe!"'

page 125: 'cruised' corrected to 'cruiser'. armour-plated cruiser _Impartial_