ave got
inside--'ark at them playing bits of "_God Save the Queen_." Well, I'm
glad I've seen it.

_A Son (to cheery old Lady)._ 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh?

_Ch. O. L._ First-rate, thankee, JOHN, my boy.

_Son._ You ain't tired standing about so long?

_Ch. O. L._ Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry about _me_.

_Son._ Could you see 'em from where you was?

_Ch. O. L._ I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll wait
and see 'em all come out, JOHN, won't we? They won't be more than an
hour and a half in there, I dessay.

_A Person with a Florid Vocabulary._ Well, if I'd ha' known all I
was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their blank-dash
kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky foot,
s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't!

_A Vendor (persuasively)._ The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower that
blows--one penny!

* * * * *

[Illustration: EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY.]

* * * * *

"ALLOWED TO STARVE."--_Mr. Punch_ begs to acknowledge contribution
from "PAISLEY" to "The Light Brigade Fund," which has been forwarded
to the Editor of the _St. James's Gazette_, who has charge of this
Fund.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE AUTOCRAT.]

"Here is my last request and legacy! After we are executed,
and while the impression of this epilogue of all these horrors
is still fresh in the minds of the people, do your utmost to
make this new example of the unparalleled cruelty of Russian
despotism known to the whole world.... This is a great task
well worth accomplishing; and if you succeed, the losses we
suffered in that terrible butchery will be redeemed."--_From
the last letter, written just before his execution, of
Nicholas Zotoff, one of the victims of the Yakoutsk massacre._

LET it be known! Poor soul, of unshaken trust,
So done to death in the gloom of the Kara waste,
'Midst a myriad nameless victims of fear and lust,
Your cry comes, borne on the chainless winds that haste
In shuddering flight away from that frozen hell,
That pestilent prison for all things free and fair,
Where the raven's croak is the patriot's only knell
On the tainted air.

Let it be known! Aye! the cruel secret crawls,
Despite the vigilant watch of tyranny's hounds,
From the scaffold's screen, from the kamera's sombre walls;
Away