was much interested in the
firing of this new 137-ton gun, and they have just let it off. That's
all.

* * * * *

GEOGRAPHICAL.

"Low-lying" districts are much talked about just now as
breeding-grounds for the pestiferous Influenza microbe. The worst
"low-lying" districts _Punch_ knows are the editorial offices of
certain scurrilous journals, and the social pestilences they engender
and disseminate sorely need abatement. Perhaps when they have duly
fumigated the House, they will turn their attention to the Office.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A JUDGE OF CHARACTER.

_Sympathetic Friend_ (_to Sweeper_). "WHAT'S THE USE O' ARSTIN' _'IM_,
BILL? _'E_ DON'T GIVE AWAY NOTHINK LESS THAN A GOVER'MENT APPOINTMENT,
_'E_ DON'T!!"]

* * * * *

THE BITTER CRY OF OUTCAST COMPETITION.

"The breakfast at St. James's Hall, which we reported
yesterday, and which was held in order to allow those who
partook of it to discuss the possibility of establishing
in this country a 'non-competitive system of university
examination,' was, in some respects, a natural outcome of the
revolt against competition which has of late years made itself
felt in many different quarters."--_The Times_.

I'm in a pretty pickle!
The world is wondrous fickle;
But lately it would stickle
For Progress by Exam.
And now, in Trade and Learning,
Against me they seem turning,
Deliberately discerning
In me a noxious sham!

The _Laissez-faire_ philosopher
My enemies grew gross over;
But now Economists toss over
Their idol of old days.
They swear "Free Competition"
Leads to Trade inanition:
That I'm a superstition,
A cruel vampire craze.

And now Big Wigs scholastic,
To modern movements plastic,
Would try reform most drastic
Upon the School Exam.
The ways my nerves that jar on
AUBERON HERBERT's far on;
E'en Dr. WARRE makes war on
Dear old Competitive Cram!

If pundits thus--at breakfast--
Neologise, neck-and-neck, fast,
My kingdom they will wreck fast!
The Army loves me not;
Socialists whet their soul-edge
Against me; now the College
Swears that my road to knowledge
Is simply--Tommy rot.

Revolt? It's most revolting!
_My_ road might yield some jolting,
But boobies from it bolting
Will probably get bogged,
And, lost in some dim bye