. One of the oldest lions observed in a strepitous
bass that it was a great relief to him that his race had not been
degraded by any such comparisons. He had some respect for hunters, but
as for politicians he would not be seen dead with them at a pig fair.
Asked whether he had read Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD'S account of his
lion-hunting exploits, in _The Daily Chronicle_, he professed ignorance
and even indifference. Speaking as an aristocrat he thought that a
Labour leader was not worthy to twist his tail. As for the conduct of
Mr. BERNARD SHAW in bringing lions on the stage, he thought it little
short of an outrage for an anaemic vegetarian to take liberties with the
king of the carnivora.

Considerable resentment was shown in the Ursine encampment at Mr. LLOYD
GEORGE'S somewhat disparaging reference to the bear's hug. (It will be
remembered that he compared with it the attitude of the Tories in
respect of the Finance Bill.) The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER evidently
regarded it as an insincere caress, whereas it was a perfectly honest
expression of hostility. This attack was all the more unjust and
undeserved since the bear was a most hardworking and underpaid member of
the community. When a politician reached the top of the poll he got L400
a year. When a bear did the same he only got a penny bun.

A conversation with a leading representative of the colony of Penguins
revealed the interesting fact that they were incapable of appreciating
our Parliamentary procedure owing to their hereditary inability to sit
down.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Mr. Punch's_ HOLIDAY PAGES.

* * * * *

THE PRIMA DONNA.

[_The repertoire of Summer is here made to embrace the prelude of many
good things that come within the wider scope of the holiday season._]

Good gentlemen, good gentlemen, we crave your kind attention!
Here's Summer, at your service (till you bid the lady stop);
Good gentlemen, she's songs for you--'tis time to drop dissension;
'Tis time to cut the cackle and to close awhile the shop;
For stags shall be in Badenoch, and Kent hath twined the hop.

Yes, songs for every son o' you, and all have silver linings!
Good gentlemen, good gentlemen, it's close, your London air;
If I'm mixing up the proverbs, 'tis because my roads run shining
Through the fret of far-off pine-woods, and I'm wishful to be there;
Or at hand among the hop-pole