nce to the "broad" way
in life, and so, no doubt, the spiritually-minded Directors of the
G.W.R. have acted with the best intentions and upon the most unanimous
resolutions. Yet "intentions" or "resolutions" are more compatible
with the "broad" than the "narrow" way.

* * * * *

LORD BRAMWELL.

BORN 1808. DIED 1892.

Alas! The Busy "B" is dead,
No more we'll hear him buzz a-wing,
Nor picture with a smiling dread
The pungent terrors of his sting.
As Io's gadfly was this "B"
To Sentiment and to Pretence.
Oh, Property! Ah, Liberty!
Fallen in your supreme defence!
Gone is the friend that in a phrase
The "Common Sense" of things could settle,
That with a stroke could slay a craze,
And folly lash with flail of nettle.
Who now will thunder in the _Times_
Against the Socialistic Rad's tone?
Who'll flout the cant and check the crimes
Of him, the all-surviving GLADSTONE?

* * * * *

Military Tournament at Islington successful as ever. All the glory of
war, as Mr. JORROCKS observed in his lecture, with one-half per cent.
of its danger. Under command of Major TULLY. For seats, apply per
Tully-phone.

* * * * *

[Illustration: UNDER WHICH THIMBLE?]

* * * * *

ON MY LADY'S POODLE.

[Illustration]

I wonder what on earth it is
That makes me think my lady's poodle
(Her minion smug of solemn phiz,)
The pink and pattern of a noodle:
Its eyes are deep; their look, serene;
Its lips are sensitive and smiling;
But oh! the gross effect, I ween,
Is, passing measure, dull and riling.

It is not that its locks are crisp;
Your humble servant's hair is crisper,
It is not that its accents lisp;
I, too, affect a stammered whisper:
Nor that a gorgeous bow it wears
And struts with particoloured bib on;
I like these macaronic airs;
I'm very fond of rainbow ribbon.

Nor can it be--of this I'm sure--
Because she pampers all its wishes
And tempts her peevish epicure
With dainty meats in dainty dishes.
To tell the truth, while _I'm_ her guest,
_My_ little wants and whims she studies;
If "Beau"'s a rival, I protest
No jealous tincture in my blood is.

I wonder, wonder, at a loss
To justify such wayward snarling--
It makes her very, _very_ cross
My poor opinion of her