to our endless joy,
Of priceless _Arthur Pomeroy_--
Light lie the earth above his head
Who lightened many a heart of lead;
Courteous and chivalrous and gay,
In very truth no common Clay.

* * * * *

We learn with regret of the death of Mr. A. CHANTREY CORBOULD, whose
work as a sporting artist was familiar to an earlier generation of
_Punch's_ readers.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ENVOYS EXTRAORDINARY.

PRIME MINISTER (_to Bolshevist Delegates._) "HAPPY TO SEE YOU,
GENTLEMEN. BUT WOULD YOU MIND GOING ROUND BY THE TRADESMEN'S ENTRANCE,
JUST FOR THE LOOK OF THE THING?"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Shipwrecked Mariner._ "AHOY, MATES! WOT 'S WON T'
DERBY?"]

* * * * *

THE RISE AND FALL OF AN AMATEUR EXAMINER.

The Nabobs is, I suppose, one of the best girls' schools in England.
Anyhow it is perhaps the most exclusive unless you have money enough.
But, as the prospectus says, "it commands an extensive view of the
English Channel," and I suppose these things have to be paid for. At
all events there is no doubt that the principal, Miss Penn-Cushing,
has her heart in her work and is a splendid disciplinarian, and so I
sent my niece Mollie there to be finished (her mother being in India).

I have an idea at times that it is Mollie who will finish Miss
Penn-Cushing, but I try to preserve a benevolent neutrality combined
with a regular supply of food parcels to my niece.

Miss Penn-Cushing is LL.A. of one University and LL.B. of another,
and, I think, LL.C. of a third, so that she ought to be more than a
match for six Mollies.

I have always had the impression that Miss Penn-Cushing regarded me as
a humble entomological specimen until the other day when she paid me a
staggering compliment. She herself teaches all the English literature
in her academy, and each class in turn goes up to her room to receive
its daily dose. Mollie says that when she grows up she is going to
give up English literature for ever and read something interesting.

I am glad that the revered Principal is never present to hear Mollie's
blasphemies, at which I as an uncle have to shudder. Since the
publication of _The Cambridge History of English Literature_ Miss
Penn-Cushing has been steadily absorbing it, to help her in her daily
task, and has apparently reached the chapter in which is suitably
acknowledg