* * * * *

ARRIVED AT LAST.

We perceived by a paragraph copied from the "_John o'Groats Journal_,"
that an immense Whale, upwards of _seventy-six_ feet in length, was
captured a few days since at Wick. Sir Peter Laurie and Alderman Humphrey
on reading this announcement _naturally_ concluded that the _Wick_
referred to was our gracious Queen _Wic_, and rushed off to
Buckingham-palace to pay their united tribute of loyalty to the
long-expected _Prince of Wales_.

* * * * *

EPIGRAM.

I'm going to seal a letter, Dick,
Some _wax_ pray give to me.
I have not got a _single stick_,
Or _whacks_ I'd give to thee.

* * * * *

THE PICTORIAL HISTORY OF PARLIAMENT.

In our last we briefly adverted to the gratifying fact that Mr. Barry had
at least a thousand superficial feet on the walls of the new Houses of
Parliament at the services of the historical painters of England; and we
also, in a passing manner, suggested a few compositions worthy of their
pencils. A reconsideration of the matter convinces us that the subject is
too important--too national, to be adopted as merely the fringe of our
article; and we have therefore determined within ourselves to devote our
present essay to a serious discussion of the various pictures that are, or
_ought_, to decorate the interior of the new House of Commons. As for the
House of Lords, we see no necessity whatever for lavishing the fine
inspirations of art on that temple of wisdom; inasmuch as the sages who
deliberate there are, for the most part, born legislators, coming into the
world with all the rudiments of government in embryo in their baby heads,
and, on the twenty-first anniversary of their birthday, putting their legs
out of bed adult, full-grown law-makers. It would be the height of
democratic insolence to attempt to teach these chosen few: it would, in
fact, be a misprision of treason against the sovereignty of Nature, who,
when making the _pia mater_ of a future peer of England, knows very well
the delicate work she has in hand, and takes pains accordingly. It is
different when she manufactures a mob of skulls which, by a jumble of
worldly accidents, or by the satire of Fortune in her bitterest mood, may
ultimately belong to Members of the House of Commons. These she makes, as
they make blocks in Portsmouth-yard, a hundred a minute. All she has to do
is to fu