et-piece of the Fifteen Decisive Battles
of the World, which is given five times successively every evening at
the Crystal Palace for three months, Piccadilly being illuminated from
6 P.M. to 3 A.M. by the continuous discharge of coloured rockets.

_September_.--The last 101-ton gun having been melted down for the
forging of the metal piles for one of the four newly-projected Channel
bridges, a nasty international feeling, fermented by General Officers
who are obliged to sweep crossings and drive four-wheeled cabs for a
livelihood,--and who do not like it,--begins to manifest itself, and
diplomacy intervening irritably only to make matters worse, several
ultimatums are dispatched from some of the Great Powers to others,
but owing to the want of soldiers, the matter is put into the hands
of International Solicitors, who, arranging a stand-up fight for the
President of the French Republic and the CZAR against the Emperors of
GERMANY and AUSTRIA, and the KING of ITALY, the matter somehow falls
through for the moment, and the public excitement subsides.

_October_.--General note from all the Great Powers to each other
announcing their secession from the "League of Peace," and declaring
their intention of resorting again to "_Protective Armament_" as soon
as possible. War declared all round before the end of the month.

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE GUELPH EXHIBITION.

IN THE CENTRAL HALL.

_A Thrifty Visitor_ (_on entering_). Catalogue? No. What's the use
of a Catalogue? Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells you
nothing you don't know!

_His Wife_ (_indicating a pile of Catalogues on table_). Aren't
_these_ big enough for you?

_The Thr. V._ Those? Why, they're big enough for the _London
Directory_! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place?
You don't really want a Catalogue--it's all your fancy!

_Mr. Prattler_ (_to Miss AMMERSON_). Oh, _do_ stop and look at these
_sweet_ goldfish! Pets! Don't you _love_ them? _Aren't_ they tame?

_Miss Ammerson_. Wouldn't do to have them _wild_--might jump out and
_bite_ people, you know!

_Mr. P._ It's _too_ horrid of you to make fun of my poor little
enthusiasms! But really,--couldn't we get something and feed
them?--_Do_ let's!

_Miss A._ I daresay you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant--or
chocolates.

_Mr. P._ How unkind you are to me! But I don't care. (_Wilfully._) I
shall come here all by mysel