E BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

TIT FOR TAT!

(_FROM A HISTORY OF ENGLAND, TO BE WRITTEN IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY._)

The Intelligent Foreigner carefully picked his way amongst the ruins
to Downing Street, and was soon in consultation with the Premier.

"This merely is a call of courtesy," he observed; "of course I am not
in the least bound to give you notice, but think it civil to do so."

The British Premier bowed, as if inviting farther particulars.

"Well, O-HANG-HIT and I have settled everything," continued the
Visitor; "he takes the Isle of Wight, while I assume the Protectorate
of Scotland, India, and the Channel Islands."

"What!" exclaimed the British Premier, aghast at the information. "And
what if we resist?"

"Resist!" laughed the New Zealander, "Why that would cost a halfpenny
in the pound more Income Tax, and your rate-payers would never submit
to that! Besides, our disease-spreading torpedoes (to which our own
people are acclimatised) would soon silence opposition!"

"Very true," returned the British Premier, sorrowfully, "very true,
indeed. Well, and what next?"

"Then O-HANG-HIT has a monopoly of English Beer, and we consent to the
cession of Gibraltar to DUNT-KAR-ACUSSER. The simplest thing in the
world!"

"But where do I come in?" asked the Briton.

"Oh, _you_ don't come in at all. But don't be alarmed, we are only
contributing our quota to the glorious cause of Peace!" And the
Intelligent Foreigner showed the British Premier a report of a speech
made by Lord SALISBURY, at the Mansion House, on August 6, 1890.

* * * * *

TRANSCENDENTAL NEOPHYTE.--Mr. JOHN BURNS has joined the Kabbylists.

* * * * *

OUR YOTTING YORICK.

DEAR EDITOR,

How can I send you "a sketch of anything I see," when I haven't
seen anything for the last twenty-four hours. Impossible! utterly
impossible! You simply want me to do impossibilities, and I am only
mortal. _Voila_! I don't complain; I only say I can't draw what
I don't see; and as to sending funny sketches when it's raining
in torrents, and been doing so for the last forty-eight hours
three minutes and twenty-one and a-half seconds, I'm--well, I
can't--_simplement_. Torrents of rain. Anyone can draw water--but draw
rain! Yes, when on horseback, I can draw rein. Good that, "when you
come to think of it,"--considering that I'm 1900 miles from an English
joke, so