ROBERT TRIHUMFUNT!

I only hopes as most of my thowsands of readers took my strait tip last Wensday morning, and got their 9 to 4 against the winner, if not it most suttenly wasn't my fault. My directions was as clear as daylight. "Dark morning, dark blew carnt lose." And wosent it a dark morning? and wosent it luvly arterwuds? Any of my winners may send my 5 per sent commishun to the hoffice as ushal, and they will all receve a copy of my emortle Book by post.

It was a puffeckly lovely race! fust Cambridge got fust, then Hoxford got fust and Cambridge second, and so on all through, but in course Hoxford wun as I proffysized.

I seed all the River Tems Conserwatives, with the Right Honnerabel the Lord Mare at the hed of 'em all, a laying carmly at rest in their bootifool Steam Bote, a trying for to look as if they wasn't responsibel for all the hundreds of thousands of peeple as lined all the banks of the River a gitting ome safely. Many on 'em I remarked kept on a disappearing down below ewery now and then, probberbly to seek that strengthening of the system so werry nessessery under such trying suckemstances. Upon the hole, I wentures werry humbly to pronounce it to be one of the werry sucksessfullest races of moddun times, which I bleeves means about 6 years. Robert.

SONG SENTIMENTIANA.

A "Fishing Interrogatory."—"What's this new French book on angling?" asked Mrs. R., who is not very well up in the French language and literature. "I believe," she went on, "it is called The Bait Humane. I do hope it is against the cruel practice of putting live worms on a hook, which is so cruel."—[It is supposed that our dear Mrs. R. has heard some mention of La Bête Humaine.—Ed.]

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Advice to those who are about to give Easter presents—send to Macmillan's for "The Nursery 'Alice,'" who re-appears "as fresh as paint," that is, with twenty-four of "Our Mr. Tenniel's" illustrations, coloured by Miss Gertrude Thomson, under his direction.

The Universal Review is specially noteworthy for a short play by Mr. W. L. Courtney, entitled, Kit Marlowe's Death. Mr. Bourchier of the St. James's, so it is stated, is going to add this "Kit" to his theatrical wardrobe. Some of the stage-directions,—such, for instance, as "They pour out wine in his cup, which he swallows," and "The others laugh at Nash's expense,"—are well worth all the money that the spirited purchaser may have paid for this almost priceless work. In the same Magazine, the coloured frontispiece of "Count Tolstoy at Home," showing the Count, not labouring in the fields of literature, but simply guiding the plough, is as good as the article on the Kreutzer Sonata is interesting; and interesting also is the paper entitled, "Musings in an English Cathedral," by the Dean of Gloucester,—henceforth to be known as "A Musing Dean."

Mr. Andrew Lang in Longman's—or rather Lang-man's—Magazine, is still stopping at "The Sign of The Ship"—[The Baron moves "that the words 'and Turtle' be inserted after 'Ship'"]—and as he has recently been delighting us with wanders in the land of Ham, it will gratify his readers to learn, that he is now ceasing to be "All for 'Hur,'" in order to join the author of She in a plot for a new romance. They are undeterred by the eye of Detective Runciman. I wish success to Merry Andrew Languid in this collaboration. In this same Lang-man's Mag., Mr. Val Prinsep, A.R.A., having temporarily dissociated himself from the paint-brush and canvas, by which he has made his name and fame, continues his novel Virginie. In the present chapter he incidentally gives a description of the service of Mass in the good Abbé Leroux's parish church, which is a triumph of imagination and subtle humour. No wonder "the Abbé Leroux was scandalised," when the service had been turned topsy-turvy, the credo put before the gloria, and a young person among his congregation, topping all other voices, was singing a solo! Where was the Beadle? or a Churchwarden? or an Aggrieved Parishioner? Three cheers for Facile Prinsep's novel!

In Plain Tales from the Hills, by Mr. Rudyard Kipling, the jaded palate of the "General Reader" will recognise a new and piquant flavour. In places the manner suggests an Anglo-Indian Bret Harte, and there is perhaps too great an abundance of phrases and local allusions which will be dark sayings to the uninitiated. But the stories show a quite surprising knowledge of life, a familiarity with military, civil, and native society, and a command of pathos and humour, which have already won a reputation for the author. Few can read Beyond the Pale, The Arrest of Lieutenant Golightly, The Story of Muhammed Din, The Germ Destroyer, and The Madness of Private Ortheris, for example, without admiration for the versatility which can cover so wide a range, and impress, amuse, or touch with the same ease and epigrammatic conciseness.

Baron de Book-worms & Co.

THE ROOT OF THE MATTER.

Lost, somewhere between Land's End and John O'Groat's, a highly-treasured heir-loom, known as the "British Sense of Fair Play." It disappeared immediately after the issuing of the Report of the Parnell Commission, and has never been seen or heard of since. Many applicants have claimed to have re-discovered it; but, from Sir R-ch-rd W-bst-r and Sir W-ll-m H-rc-rt, to L-rd D-nr-v-n, and (last and least) Sir W. M-rr-tt, all have absolutely failed to substantiate their claims. Any Public Man, of whatever party, who can prove his possession of the lost treasure, by making a speech embodying a judicial survey of the Judges' Report, without party-feeling, special pleading, or paltry spite, will, on applying personally to Mr. Punch, be Handsomely Rewarded!!!

PUT THIS IN YOUR PIPE.

[Pipe-Major McKellar has thrown doubts upon the pretty and pathetic story of "Jessie Brown of Lucknow."]

MUSICAL NOTES.

I have just received Florian Pascal's Music composed for Tra la la Tosca, published by Joseph Williams of Berners Street. Justice was not done to it on the stage at the Royalty, but there are two morçeaux in it which ought to become popular; one being a song entitled "Her Eye," which, were it wedded to serious words, would be highly popular as a contralto song, just as Sullivan's charming "Hush a bye Bacon," in Cox and Box, became "Birds of the Night." Then the Gavotte in this book is as graceful and catching as the Gavotte de Louis Treize, and would be in great request with orchestras and bands everywhere.

Klein's Musical Notes of the Year, a useful and trustworthy historical record, was sent to me, and not "de-Klein'd with thanks." I have just heard that there is a new pick-me-up called "Zingit." What it is I don't know, and I haven't as yet come across the inevitable big advertisement; but what I have ascertained is, that Mr. Edward Solomon, who is now wearing the diamond scarf-pin presented to him by the Guards whom he led on to victory in their recent burlesque engagement, has composed a polka or waltz which bears the name of "Zingit," and which might bear on the wrapper, "If you can't play it, or dance it, Zing it."

(Signed)

Otto Piccolo (du Conservatoire).

Mr. Hubert Vos requests the honour of our company at his studio near Vauxhall Bridge. Very sorry: couldn't get there. "Sic Vos non vobis."

WHERE MARRIAGES ARE MADE.

The application for a licence to marry at St. George's, Albemarle Street, made by the Jeune Premier, Q.C., on behalf of the Rev. Dr. Ker Gray, was opposed by Canon Capel Cure, of St. George's, Hanover Square, the Hymeneal Temple par excellence of the Metropolis. Dr. Tristram, with traditional Shandyan caution, said he would "take time to consider his decision." Should Dr. Time be adverse to the opponents, then will the Minister with the sad-dog name of "Ker Gray" become the Canon's bête noire. If the decision be t'other way, then Ker Gray may twit the Canon with being "a regular Cure," and might compose a chant on the old lines of

While the Canon could retaliate with a parody on "Old Dog Tray."

In the meantime, the affair being sub (Punch-and-) judice, we refrain from further comment, and wish luck to both Reverend Gentlemen.

SENTENCE RE-VERSED.

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

House of Commons, Monday, March 24.—Prince Arthur explained in speech nearly two hours long the bearings of Irish Land Purchase Bill. In course of his exposition the happy accident by which civilised man is furnished with two coat-tails was strikingly illustrated. On the Treasury Bench, behind Prince Arthur, sat, on either hand, Old Morality and Jokim. Supposing the Prince had had only one coat-tail, differences might have arisen between his two right hon. friends; sure at some period of the prolonged speech to come into personal contact if both pulling at same rope. But the liberal sartorial arrangements which Arthur shared in common with less distinguished Members provided a coat-tail apiece; so when idea or suggestion occurred to him, Old Morality tugged at the right-hand one, and when Jokim had a happy thought he hauled away on the left.

As both their minds were seething with ideas, Arthur had a lively time of it, and complications of Bill grew in entanglement. Just as he was assuming, for the sake of argument, that an advance of 30 millions had been made under the Act for the Purchase of Land in Ireland, and that seventeen years was about the average value under Lord Ashbourne's Act, there was a sudden tug of the right coat-tail; Prince leaned over in that direction; Old Morality whispered in his ear.

"Exactly!" said the Prince; "I was just going to show that the instalment of 4 per cent. on the advance of 30 millions is £1,200,000 a year. Very well; suppose that in one year, though the hypothesis is utterly impossible, that not one single sixpence of annuity is paid. How would that be?" (Here the left coat-tail was observed to be violently agitated, and Arthur leaning over, Jokim half-rising, eagerly explained something.)

"Precisely. My right hon. friend reminds me, what indeed I was just about to show, that there would be first the £200,000 reserve fund; secondly, there would be the £200,000 annual probate grant; thirdly, £40,000 of the new Exchequer contribution, and £75,000 of the quarter per cent, local per-centage, and there would be besides that £1,118,000 of tenants' reserve. So that without touching the £5,000,000, which was the landlords' fifth, and without touching a sixpence of the contingent portion of the guarantee fund, you would have £1,633,000 to meet the call of £1,200,000."

This prospect of boundless wealth, more especially the familiar way of putting it, making it quite a personal matter for each Member that he would have £1,633,000 to meet a call of £1,200,000, was designed to have soothing effect on audience; would, indeed, have succeeded in that direction but for the coat-tail accompaniment.

"Jokim," said Harcourt, "is too susceptible in his paternal feelings. We know now who is the father of the progeny. Arranged that Balfour shall bring it in for christening ceremony; shall dandle it in his arms, and dilate on its excellences; but everyone can tell from the excited manner, the eager interruption, the restless hovering round the cradle, that Jokim is the father."

Business done.—Land Purchase Bill brought in.

Tuesday.—Wilfrid Lawson sprang a mine to-night. House, as everyone knows, engaged for nearly fortnight in discussing question whether it should thank Judges for their services in connection with Parnell Commission. A desperate struggle finally resulted in decision to pass Vote of Thanks. Lawson wants to know whether Old Morality has conveyed the thanks to the Judges; and if so, what had they said in reply? Question put without notice. Rather startles Old Morality. Fact is, never occurred to him that anything had to be done in supplement of passing Vote of Thanks. There it was; Judges might, in passing, call in and take it home with them; or it might be forwarded, at owner's risk, by Parcel-Post or Pickford's. Very awkward thing thus springing these questions on a Minister. Couldn't even, right off, say where the Vote of Thanks was. Gazed hopelessly at mass of papers on Clerk's table. Might probably be there. Perhaps not. Vote passed some days ago; desk cleared every morning. Old Morality moved restlessly on bench; looked picture of despair. Best thing to do, not to take notice of question; pretend not to hear it; but House laughing and cheering; all eyes bent on him; no escape. So, rising, holding on to table, putting on most diplomatic manner, and speaking in solemn tones, Old Morality said, "Mr. Speaker, Sir, it is no part of my duty to the Queen and country to convey to anybody a Resolution of this House."

Lawson up again. More cheering and laughter. Asked Speaker whether he had conveyed Vote of Thanks to Judges? No; Speaker had had no instructions on the matter.

Where is the Vote of Thanks? Who has it in his possession? Certainly not the Judges; one of those things nobody had thought about; various people's business to see to it; accordingly no one done it; no wonder Brother Day, sitting on Bench, has looked forth with stony stare, his heart consumed with secret sorrow. Whilst everyone congratulating Judges on rare honour done to them by both Houses of Parliament, the distinction has proved illusory. World pictured each learned Judge with copy of Vote of Thanks, framed and glazed, hung in best parlour; and behold! they have never had it at all!

House laughed when truth dawned upon it. But it was a hollow laugh, ill-concealing prevalent feeling of vexation and shame-facedness. Turned with affectation of keen interest to question raised by Mundella of iniquities of Education Department in connection with School Supply of York and Salisbury. But could not keep the thing up. Even rousing eloquence of Hart Dyke, on his defence, fell flat. Ever rose before Members the vision of the three Judges, daily expecting receipt of thanks which they read had been voted to them; too proud to complain of neglect; Hannen taking on a sterner aspect; Smith affecting a perky indifference; and over the solemn features of Brother Day ever stealing the deepening twilight of deferred hope. House gladly broke away from scene and subject, getting itself Counted Out at a Quarter-past Nine.

Thursday.—"Talk about Dizzy," said Harcourt, perhaps not without some tinge of envy, "if Old Morality goes on in this style, Dizzy won't be in it for persiflage."

House laughing so heartily, could hardly hear Harcourt's whisper. John Morley began it; Lunacy Laws Consolidation Bill with 342 Clauses and 5 Schedules gone through Committee like flash of lightning. Nothing been seen like it since, the other night, I and seven other Members voted Four Millions sterling in Committee on Navy Estimates. Courtney put Clauses in batches of fifty. No one said him nay. Natural supposition was, that House in agreeing to this critical stage of important Bill knew all about it. Every line of its 342 Clauses must be familiar to every man present; otherwise how could he lay his hand on his heart, and say, "Aye," when Courtney asked him should he knock off another fifty Clauses?

When it was over, John Morley rose, and gravely expressed hope that Old Morality would inform his friends, accustomed to say that Opposition persist in obstruction, how this piece of legislation had advanced by leaps and bounds. This meant to be a nasty one for Old Morality, prone to go into the country in Autumn and protest how he is hampered in performing duty to Queen and country by obstruction of Members opposite.

"Ha! ha!" chuckled the Liberals, "John's got him there. A hit, a palpable hit!"

But no one yet fathomed the tranquil depths of Old Morality. Rose from other side of table and, with equal gravity, promised that he would tell all his friends "how the Opposition had given greatest possible facility for passing the Lunacy Bill." This joke one of kind whose exquisite flavour evaporates on paper. But House enjoyed it immensely, none more than Old Morality. For an hour after, as he sat on Treasury Bench, his face from time to time suddenly suffused with genial smile, and his portly body gently shook with laughter.

"Ah!" said J. G. Talbot, mournfully regarding him through his spectacles; "he's thinking of the Old 'un," meaning the late joke.

Tithes Bill on for Second Reading. Picton rallied scattered forces of Opposition, and led them to attack. Slashing speech; soaring eloquence; trenormous energy.

"Reminds me," said Admiral Field, "of his grandfather, General Picton, who fell at Waterloo. Remember him very well; was in charge of Brigade of Marines there, you know; attached to Picton's Division. Never look on Member for Leicester without thinking of my old comrade in arms;" and the sturdy salt brushed away the reluctant tear.

Picton reminded Hicks-Beach of someone else—"his great predecessor in spoliation, Henry the Eighth."

"Yes, but better looking," said Plunket, always ready to put in a kind word.

Business done.—Tithes Bill Debate.

Friday Night.—Tithes Debate, which has had general effect of depressing the human mind, acted upon Cranborne like electric shock. Astonished and interested House to-night by vigorous speech delivered in favour of Bill. With clenched hands and set teeth declared that he "meant to fight for Established Church till death." He put it to the piratical Picton and other marauders, whether, seeing that in such case the conflict must necessarily be prolonged, they would not do well to seize this opportunity of settling Tithe question?

Business done.—Second Reading Tithes Bill agreed to by 289 Votes against 164.

"A (Not) at Home."—Last week a paragraph appeared in an illustrated paper contradicting the report (published in an earlier issue) that a certain titled Lady had been present at somebody's party. This novel departure should be useful as a precedent to the crême de la crême of suburban society. In future, such announcements as the following may be expected to be frequently found in the "Fashionable Intelligence" columns of the more aspiring of our Penny Socials:—"On Thursday last Mr. and Mrs. Madeira Top-floor Smithies entertained a small and select party at their new residence, The Hollies, 24A, Zanzibar Terrace, Peckham Rye, East. Amongst those present we did not notice H.S.H. the Prince of Teck, the Duke of Westminster, Lady Burdett-Coutts, and the Lord Chancellor. In the general circle, Lord Cross, the Countess of Clarendon, and the Bishop of London, were also conspicuous by their absence. It was rumoured that neither the Duke of Cambridge nor Mr. Gladstone were expected to join the company before the close of the entertainment."

Dinner Scarcely à la Roose.—Dear Mr. Punch,—I am a poor man, but I like a nice dinner. Now I have discovered how to enjoy a good meal, and yet keep the cost of living within reasonable limits. Here is my method. I order and eat, a lobster, two pounds of pork chops, a large-sized pot of pâté de foies gras, a dressed crab, and three plates of toasted cheese. Having finished this dainty little dinner, I find, that I can eat nothing more for at least a week! That the pleasing fare does not make me ill, is proved by my friends declaring that I look like a picture of health. They do not say whether the picture is a good or bad one—but that is a matter of detail.

Yours sincerely,

The Founder of the More-than-Enough Society.

Utopian.—Neither noise, vibration, nor dust! That's what the Bramwells, the Watkins, and the Galtons claim for that partly-developed but promising—much promising—invention of M. Girard's, the Chemin de Fer Glissant, or Sliding Railway. What a happy ideal! By all means, "Let it slide!"

A Chance for a New Member.—"Rookeries," said Mr. Henry Lazarus in his evidence at Marylebone, "abound in St. Pancras, and it is a scandal to civilisation that they should continue to exist." Now, Mr. Bolton, M.P., can't you have your legal and parliamentary finger in this Rook pie?

NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.