lauded, and
adulated to the skies by the Cretan critic. But when the M.M.A. writes
on other subjects, are we to trust him? there's the difficulty. So
after the first essay, which is hereby recommended by the Faculty, the
Baron puts the book aside. "_Caute legendum_," says

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

AN OLD-FASHIONED BUFFER ON BALFOUR'S BILL.

State-aided purchase? That sounds mighty well
_I_ look on it as a State-aided _Sell_!

* * * * *

[Illustration: OUR ARTISTS ARE SOMETIMES COMPENSATED FOR ALL THEY HAVE
TO PUT UP WITH.

_Young R.A._ (_newly-elected_). "WHAT, NOT SEEN OUR ROYAL ACADEMY YET,
MISS VON THUMP! DON'T YOU CARE FOR PICTURES, THEN?" _Fair American_.
"WELL, SOME. BUT YOUR ROYAL ACADEMY'S RATHER CROWDED, YOU KNOW!"

_Pictor Ignotus_ (_who hates the Academy like poison_), "PERHAPS MISS
VON TRUMP PREFERS OUR NATIONAL GALLERY. _THAT'S_ NOT INCONVENIENTLY
CROWDED!"

_Fair American_. "WELL, YES. I LIKE TO GO AND SIT IN A NICE, COOL,
QUIET, DESERTED SPOT, LIKE YOUR NATIONAL GALLERY,--WITH A BOUND-UP
VOLUME OF _PUNCH_! THAT'S MY IDEA OF PICTURES!"]

* * * * *

"GENERAL ELECTION STAKES."

A COLLOQUY ON THE COURSE.

_Mr. Punch_. Your Stable, no doubt, has of late been a winning one;
Horses and Jockeys have both done their best.
_Trainer_. Yes; Guv'nor's black phiz--bless his heart!--is a grinning one;
_All_ our nags answer when put to the test.
_Mr. Punch_. All? That's a bit of a stretch, my dear fellow.
_Wheel Tax_ went wrong. _Compensation_ came down.
Hasn't MATT's riding at times turned you yellow,
And RAIKES's wild steering almost done you brown?
_Trainer_. Maybe, Sir, maybe! We can't _always_ spot 'em,
But average winnings come out very well.
On this next race, now, I fancy we've got 'em,
Ah, fairly on toast, far as I can hear tell.
_Mr. Punch_. The Sanguine Old Man--is _he_ of your opinion?
And SOLLY, the owner, is he at his ease?
_Trainer_. Oh, dash the doldrums! I scorn their dominion.
There are some people no fellow can please.
What I say, Mister, is, look at their Stable,
The old Opposition shop. Lot of old crocks!
_Flowing-Tide?_ Faugh! Half his doings are fable.
_Home Rule?_ The deadest of utter dead-locks!
_Socialist?_ Why, half the Party won't back him.