,
With a semi-drunken glee
Aping, all unconsciously,
The proud Roman mother's vaunt.
"See _my_ jewels! What I want--
Dress, and drink, and selfish ease,
I can win at will--through these."
What was it little BOBBY said?
"We'll get four pounds when SARAH's dead!"

Golden-tongued PETERBOROUGH, flay
The harpies with your burning breath;
And you, brave WAUGH, assist to stay
This plague of fiends who thrive on death.
Cut short the course of callous crime
Of this CORNELIA of our time!

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE HORSE SHOW.

TIME--_About 3.30. Leaping Competition about to begin. The Competitors
are ranged in a line at the upper end of the Hall, while the
attendants place the hedges in position. Amongst the Spectators in the
Area are--a Saturnine Stableman from the country; a Cockney Groom; a
Morbid Man; a Man who is apparently under the impression that he is
the only person gifted with sight; a Critic who is extremely severe
upon other people's seats; a Judge of Horseflesh; and Two Women who
can't see as well as they could wish._

_The Descriptive Man_. They've got both the fences up now, d'ye see?
There's the judges going to start the jumping; each rider's got a
ticket with his number on his back. See? The first man's horse don't
seem to care about jumping this afternoon--see how he's dancing about.
Now he's going at it--there, he's cleared it! Now he'll have to jump
the next one!

[_Keeps up a running fire of these instructive and valuable
observations throughout the proceedings._

[Illustration]

_The Judge of Horseflesh._ Rare good shoulders that one has.

_The Severe Critic (taking the remark to apply to the horse's rider)._
H'm, yes--rather--pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though.

[_His Friend regards him in silent astonishment._

_Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount
of daylight._

_The Saturnine Stableman (encouragingly)._ You'll 'ev to set back a
bit next journey, Guv'nor!

_The Cockney Groom._ 'Orses 'ud jump better if the fences was a bit
'igher.

_The S. S._ They'll be plenty 'oigh enough fur some on 'em.

_The Severe Critic._ Ugly seat that fellow has--all anyhow when the
horse jumps.

_Judge of Horseflesh._ Has he? I didn't notice--I was looking at the
horse. [_Severe Critic feels snubbed._

_The S. S. (soothingly, as the Competitor with the loose seat comes
round aga