Part 2

When gaily dances the Easter sun, And shelved is each bothersome Bill, Then work and talk for a time are done, And the lobbies are hushed and still. Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Home goes every one; Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Under the April sun. Old St. Stephen's closes; Parliament reposes, Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Forty winks, or fun!

When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast, And blue are the skies above, Each seeks the rest that he loves the best, Or the sport he doth chiefly love. Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Donkey riding's fun! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Dawdling under the sun! HARCOURT'S eyelid closes, BALFOUR blandly dozes; Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Under the Easter sun!

Joggle and jolt! _These_ mokes won't bolt! Each flops like an empty sack On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt. No donkey boy on _their_ track! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Carelessly jogging on! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Under an Easter sun! Lotos-Land discloses No more bland reposes. Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Dawdle they under the sun!

"That LABBY was often a bore!" sighs WILL, Groans ARTY, "And so was JOE! To drive _these_ donkeys demands small skill! Would Westminster mokes were so! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily! Riding like this is fun! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily! Bless us! Who _wants_ to run? 'Appy 'Ampstead dozes! Mokes are beds of roses! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Jog we--till holiday's done!"

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"THE OBJECTION TO EUCLID" of which we have heard so much recently is of very ancient standing, and is shared by nearly every schoolboy.

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PARLIAMENTARY PROVERB.--There's many a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the "Whip"!

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MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.

(_The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's Drawings at the Fine Art Society's Gallery._)

AIR.--"_My Old Friend John._"

'Tis forty years, my dear Sir JOHN, Since you and I first met. Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown! But we foregather yet, I gaze on this brave show with pride-- Fine art, still in full feather! By Jove, it seems but yesterday Since we were "boys" together.

Since we were boys, merry, merry boys, At our old Board together!

There's gladness in remembrance, JOHN; Your pencil-strokes struck true; Through all the shifts of party life, No pause that pencil knew. We've missed old comrades one by one; Our friendship moults no feather; _Can_ forty years and more have run Since we were "boys" together?

Since we were boys, merry, merry boys, At our old Board together!

I gaze and proudly ponder, JOHN; I've seen them all before-- GLADSTONE, BRIGHT, DIZZY, BULL!--Well done!!! Fresh as in days of yore The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream, Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather. Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done, Since we were "boys" together.

_Chorus all "Round the Mahogany Tree."_

Since we were boys, merry, merry boys! So meet we, in full feather, For many sunny years, Sir JOHN, Still boys--at heart--together!

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THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.

AIR--"_Little Buttercup._"

I'm bumptious Minority--cocky Minority (Though I can hardly tell why), My work is to worry poor weary Majority, Giving him one in the eye.

On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll, And badger 'em out of their lives. I claim all the graces, and all the best places; Thus cocky Minority thrives!

Majorities little of claim have no tittle To getting _their_ own wicked way; But cocky Minority has such authority, _His_ should be absolute sway.

If things are at evens at--well, say St. Stephen's, Spring Gardens, wherever you like, Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock), And against Progress we strike.

If a Majority (small) claims authority To make the tiniest move, Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it, Must be my labour of love.

But a Minority's superiority Is just as clear as the day. Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all, 'Tis--_to let the Minority sway!_

Then yield to Minority--cocky Minority, On Boards or of Council or School! Hooray for Minority--bumptious Minority! Come--let Minority rule!

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OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.

(_From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle in advance._)

NOWHAR, _April 1_.--Wett River crossed yesterday in most brilliant style. Dashaway Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet, the Muffs keeping up well-directed fire during the entire operation. However, they seemed to feel effect of our artillery and Maxims.

When landing effected, Sapping Miners constructed iron bridge (with glass covering to protect the troops from the rain) within five-and-twenty minutes. During the construction Muffs fired continuously at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with shot, consequently colours could not be run up. A round from couple of quick-firing guns cleared heights of human obstructions.

On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th Irregular Prancers charged enemy with much dash. As gallant horsemen approached Muffs (numbering about twenty thousand) concentrated their fire. For few minutes Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog of bullets. This ordeal did not damp their courage; soon came to close quarters with foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion, flying, before pursuing sabres. Irregulars followed retreating enemy for many miles with complete success.

While these operations being carried out 17th Battalion of Cutandthrust Regiment made assault on fortress protecting right flank of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with well-sustained artillery fire, which had it been more judiciously directed might have caused considerable annoyance. As it was, many Cutandthrusts lowered their heads to allow of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On reaching walls redcoats hopped over like birds. Garrison stubbornly defended position. Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in their new formation. With wild cheer they again charged. Although this advance caused Muffs to fall back, they still retained their ground. At this moment machine-guns of battalion were brought into play with best results. A couple of rounds immediately broke up enemy's columns and put them to flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment of Indian Tiger Eaters.

By midday position secured. At invitation of bugles exploring party "ceased firing," and prepared for mess.

_Later._--I have just received a return of killed and wounded on both sides, which I here give:--_Muffs._--Killed, about 20,000; wounded, twice as many more. _British._--Killed, none; wounded, No. 35,604,821 Private SMITH (Cutandthrust Regiment), slight scratch on fourth finger of left hand.

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NEW NAME FOR IT (_by Brother Bung_).--Local Hop-shun!

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ALL THE DIFFERENCE.

If half the things that CHLOE says to me, If half the pretty kindnesses she shows, By PHYLLIDA were shown or said, Without a tremor I would stake my head That I securely might propose That she my bride would be.

Yet why? I know full well that CHLOE means Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way, Her frank "The best of friends, that's all." And yet the stricter GRUNDY 'twould appal To hear the tender things we say Between our quarrel-scenes.

If one full-leaping pulse's beat Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand I trespass on sweet PHYLLIDA'S coy hand, The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat, Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin, And I again, a SISYPHUS, begin The task of charming her reserve austere, Palsied by Love's false fear, Which drives the lover's chances down to zero. While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit, And my white goddess listens at his feet.

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LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.

THE LAND OF DREAMS.

There's a wondrous fairy kingdom Whither all may take a trip-- Quite an inexpensive journey, It is not by rail or ship-- For it lies just where you fancy, And a pleasant thing it seems For a man to sojourn sometimes In the land of dreams.

'Tis the land where man attaineth To the end of his desire, Where the minor poet warbles And the laurel crowns his lyre: It is there the sucking statesman Works out Machiavellian schemes, And young BRIEFLESS is a leader In the land of dreams.

'Tis the land of fur and feather, 'Tis the paradise of sport, Where the runs beat all recounted O'er the walnuts and the port: It is there the pheasant rockets, It is there the covert teems, And your powder's always straightest In the land of dreams.

There with ease the patient golfer Plays a record medal-round, And the batsman get his hundred, Hitting clean all round the ground; There old IZAAK'S keen disciple Thrashes quite ideal streams, For he angles most "compleatly" In the land of dreams.

'Tis a land where someone meets you You may never meet elsewhere, 'Tis a land where words are whispered You may whisper only there; 'Tis the home of youth and sunshine Where you taste of joy's extremes, For, of course, there's someone loves you In the land of dreams.

'Tis a land of peace and quiet, Free from yelling paper-boys, And from Germany's musicians, And offensive kinds of noise: There the organ-grinder grinds not, There no restive infant screams. Oh, to spend one's whole existence In the land of dreams!

'Tis a land where rates and taxes Never need be brooded on, And the cupboard is unfurnished With the homely skeleton: There the roses all are thornless, Life is destitute of seams, And, in short, its worth the living In the land of dreams.

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TO A PRETTY GIRL.

(_Who accepted some verses._)

You take my lines, and say that you Appreciate my humble verses. That's more than editors will do, Or publishers, with bloated purses. To gain your thanks in such a way, I'd write you verses night and day.

_You_ don't return them, saying you Regret you cannot now accept them. Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue, To show that, ruined, you have kept them. If you would pay me with a smile, I'd write you verses by the mile.

If you could only say that you Would like me for my admiration, To sing your charms till all was blue Would be delightful occupation. If I could hope to win a kiss, I'd write you fifty miles like this.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday Night, April 8._--House to-night presented that appearance seen only on big occasions. Long unfamiliar in slough of despond in which present House been steeped since Session opened. Every seat on either side occupied. Members sitting on Gangway steps, flooding the side galleries, blocking the Bar, peopling even the steps of the Chair. ARTHUR PEEL is leaving historic stage graced through eleven years in fashion that has added fresh fame to an illustrious name. On ordinary occasions when SPEAKER rises to address House on current topics of business, Members who chance to have their hats on keep them there. Now, when the stately figure is discovered standing under the canopy of the Chair, Members without concert, but with one accord, bare their heads. Throughout a moving scene, which crammed much into fifteen minutes, nothing more striking than this simultaneous, swift uncovering of the head, and the transformation that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming in from western windows, fell upon five hundred unshaded faces all turned towards the tall, gowned figure standing by the Chair.

The speech will be read to-morrow by millions, who will find it word for word and sentence by sentence in the newspapers. But the reader will gain but faint idea of the impression the delivery produced. The historic place, the animated scene, the electric current of such a gathering, were much. The effect was perfected by the elocution of the SPEAKER, perhaps the most perfect development of an attractive but dangerous art possessed by living man.

What possibilities underlie its possession were wonderingly recognised in the last days of the late Parliament, when the directors of the Cambrian Railway Company were brought to the Bar of the House in connection with the dismissal of a station-master who had given unwelcome evidence before a Select Committee. House in the ludicrous pickle which invariably follows on Privilege proceedings. Directors summoned to attend were somewhere in the lobby. If it had been permissible to follow _Dogberry's_ example in similar circumstances--to take no note of directors, but let them go and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God they were rid of the knaves--it would have been well. But, directors being solemnly summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with. Finally resolved that SPEAKER should admonish them. Amid much giggling on part of hysterically uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous position, directors brought in and ranged at Bar. Then SPEAKER stood up and "most seriously admonished" them.

No one present will forget the awesome mien, the terrible voice, with which the task was performed. At a touch farce was transformed into tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled, triumphantly vindicated. To-night the SPEAKER'S phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the delivery is untranslateable in speech or written word.

_Business done._--Speaker announces resignation. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD brings in Local Veto Bill.

_Tuesday._--"Poof!" said SARK, mopping his brow; "glad that's over. No knowing where it might have ended. Danger of last scene in SPEAKER'S leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter. When I was first returned, we thought two leaders enough for one House. There was the Government man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition on bench opposite. When ceremonial business to be done, these two spoke and the whole House agreed that its opinions had found expression. House rapidly growing into position akin to home forces of Prince of MONACO. Nearly as many captains as privates."

These remarks wrung from troubled breast by long, at one anxious moment apparently interminable, procession of orators in support of resolution thanking retiring SPEAKER for services in Chair. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD said right thing in admirable way. PRINCE ARTHUR, less ornate in phrase, supplied a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling of Ministerialists and Opposition. Some reasonableness in JUSTIN MCCARTHY'S interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as he hinted, had in earlier days done battle with SPEAKER. But really, when it came to JOSEPH saying a few words for his merry men, and JOHN REDMOND tuning afresh the Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew alarming. If these leaders of sections within a division felt called upon to make speeches on such occasion, why not JOHN BURNS as a Labour Leader, with KEIR HARDIE to follow as captain of the Independent Labour Party; OSBORNE MORGAN, purged of profligacy, speaking for Wales, followed by LLOYD-GEORGE from below the Gangway; WILFRID LAWSON for the Temperance party; Private HANBURY as representing the land forces of the Busy B's; Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES the naval; JACOB BRIGHT returning thanks for the ladies, WALTER M'LAREN speaking specially for the section who desire to marry their deceased husband's brother? Domesticity thus trenched upon, Baron DE WORMS, with wistful "Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face, might close the list by a few words spoken on behalf of the family circle.

To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall doubtless go the whole way next time opportunity presents itself. _Business done._--Thanks of House voted to SPEAKER.

_Wednesday._--By contrast with ordered speech-making of yesterday afternoon scene that took place in earliest moments of the new day's birth prettier by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing out homewards stopped to shake the SPEAKER'S hand and bid him farewell. Just before quarter of hour chimed after midnight, ARTHUR PEEL spoke his last words in House of Commons.

"The question is," he said, "that this House do now adjourn."

As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present sprang to feet, cheering continuously till ARTHUR PEEL, for the last time robed in Speaker's wig and gown, passed out of sight.

For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more. We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.

_Le roi est mort. Vive le roi._ WILLIAM COURT GULLY elected Speaker by majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.

_Business done._--Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.

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A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.

Upon my luck I still reflect, That led us to the same Museum: I greeted you with staid respect, But my heart sang its own _Te Deum_, And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist, For being an ethnologist!

On old Assyrian spoils intent, Our very presence he forgot, While we o'er strings of wampum bent-- We saw them and we saw them not. He lived within a past long dead, We, in the seconds as they sped.

Within a carven mirror old, Suddenly, as we wandered by, You looked upon your hair of gold And flushing face, and so did I. Then on we passed: a vault we found, And PHARAOH'S coffin, underground.

Oh, if his phantom ever stood Beside the coffin made for him, And saw you in your joyous mood, With your bright eyes and figure slim, King PHARAOH might have envied us Beside his old sarcophagus!

But, PHARAOH, we, remembering The ancient creed that souls of men May see the summer and the spring, May live again, and love again, A moment wished the tale were true, Because--it seemed so hard on you!

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WANTED IN THE WORLD OF "ART."--A Spring Clean!

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TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.

You regret that all you do Is to be a lady who Just walks on--a smile or two, Then you're gone; For you think that any gawk Would be good enough to walk, You undoubtedly should talk When you're "on."

You are but a sort of show. Silence for a girl is slow, Speech is woman's right, I know That is true, And although your pretty face Charms beholders by its grace, You would like a higher place, Wouldn't you?

But we cannot all have "leads," Nicely suited to our needs, To excel in words and deeds, Don't you see? So, if you desire to speak, I am not so far to seek, I would listen for a week-- Talk to me.

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SOMETHING YET!--"Mr. G." is a proficient in several languages. In Italian, as well as in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he can, we believe, converse fluently, when anyone gives him a chance. With Russian he may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to the general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister. With Spanish Mr. G. is, probably, not on speaking terms, though, no doubt he is well up in the niceties of the language; and there are many spoken languages of which he possesses more than a smattering. But the accomplished scholar has yet something to learn from one RICHARD CUMBERLAND, a bishop in the last century, not the playwright, of whom it is on record that, being a proficient in most ancient and modern languages, he "began to learn Coptic at the age of eighty-three!" Although Mr. G. has gone very far north, yet has he not at present got up to CUMBERLAND.

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A SUGGESTION.--There are two excellent waters, Apollinaris and Johannis, known to everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might not the two companies amalgamate, and reproduce the success of "MY 'POL' AND MY PARTNER 'JO.'"

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LATEST EQUIVALENT FOR "THE EAST WIND," AS REPLENISHMENT FOR HUNGRY STOMACHS.--The Royal Commission on the Aged Poor.

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