 
Are our sage legislators, then, set upon finding A measure that's "final, conclusive, and binding," As lawyer-phrase puts it? They might as well try To fix dawn in the East, or nail clouds to the sky! There's nothing that's "final" in infinite time, That great, goalless, measureless race-course sublime? In which relays of runners must keep up the race? There's nothing "conclusive" in limitless space; And "binding" man's soul to his best of to-day For the future of growth, in an absolute way, Were folly as futile as binding an oak To the seedling's first prop, or the sapling's first yoke; For provisional law, not for secular life, Such phrases are fit. Yet to heal age-long strife By the very best "betterment" now in our ken, Till—a better shines forth's the first duty of men. Do right to the height of our sight's actuality!— Yes, that is our best—and our only—Finality! An odd Advertisement frequently catches our eye. It is "Dr. Gordon Stables's Health Series." Have the Gordon Stables anything to do with "the Gordon Hotels"? If not, why not? as evidently they could work together to their mutual benefit. A History of Medicine, by Dr. Edward Berdoe, is announced as shortly to appear. It will be illustrated by a Black (-and-White) draughtsman. DESIGNS FOR MI-CARÆME.(To be worn as Costumes at the next International Fancy-Dress Ball.) The Emperor W-ll-m.—Paul Pry on Tour. The Czar of R-ss-a.—Protection. The Sultan of T-rk-y.—Wrecked in Port. The Khedive of Eg-y-t.—Young Hopeful. The President C-rn-t.—A Dissolving View. Prince von B-sm-rck.—The Shadow of the Past. Count C-pr-vi.—The Substance of the Future. Vicomte de L-ss-ps.—A Lock on the Suez Canal. The Pr-m-r.—A Scotch Mixture of Homer and Home Rule. Sir W-ll-m H-rc-t.—The latest of the Plantagenets. Mr. J-hn M-rl-y.—"To Dublin from Pall Mall." Lord R-nd-lph Ch-rch-ll.—The Prodigal Returned. Mr. Speaker P-l.—The chucker in. Mr. L-b-ch-re.—The Spirit of Te—ruth. The Marquis of S-l-sb-ry.—The Irish Emigrant. Mr. Arth-r B-lf-r.—Golf surviving Government. Mr. H-nry Irv-ng.—A Canterbury Pilgrim. Miss Ell-n T-rry.—A Nun, with none like her. Mr. J. L. T-le.—A Walker, Running, London and the Provinces. "I'm Manxious to Know."—The Isle of Man, it appears from Mr. Spencer Walpole's book, has thriven on Home Rule. We all know that Club Land gets on very well, Club-law being administered by men only, seeing that men only are the governing and governed. But "Home" is the antithesis of the Club, and Home Rule, domestically, means Female sovereignty. In the Isle of Man-sans-Woman there can be no Home Rule properly so called. It must be "Homo Rule." "HOME, SWEET HOME!"(Latest Parliamentary Version.) Returned Wanderer sings:— 'Mid gold-fields and lion-haunts though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the past seems to hallow us there, Which, trot round the globe, you will not meet elsewhere. Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home! Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! An exile from home freedom dazzles in vain; Ah! give me my lowly front-bench seat again. The cheers, sounding sweetly, that come at my call, Give me these, and old pals of mine, dearer than all. Home! Ho-ome! Sweet, sweet home! Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! (Extra or encore verses on his own account.) The first seat was mine, but I forfeited that; Will they welcome the waif, kill the calf that is fat? Will dear Arthur rejoice to receive his lost chief? Will the Wanderer's return bring regret, or relief? Home! Ho-ome! Sweet, sweet home! Be it ever so humble (winks) there's no place like home! So humble! Oh yes! So seemed David, no doubt, Till he struck at Goliath and put him to rout. My giant—his name, too, begins with a G— Braves the whole of our hosts. I—no matter—we'll see. Home! Ho-ome! Sweet, sweet home! Be it ever so humble (grins), there's no place like home! Treats for Tommy.—"What shall I do to amuse our little boy, aged fourteen, when he returns home for Easter Vacation?" Why, certainly improve his mind. Procure for him a free admission to the Geological Society, and let him hear a paper on "Anthracite and Bituminous Coal-beds," likewise on "Inclusions of Tertiary Granite." Take him to the Linnean Society, and treat him to a lecture "On the Differentiation of the Protozoan Body Microscopically Sectionised." Another evening may be given to "Mosses and Sphagnums," not to be confounded with "Moses and Magnums." After this little course, he may write to say that during the next vacation he would prefer remaining at school. "I can't drink Champagne," quoth General Boozer; "it gives me a red nose." "No, it won't," replied his medical adviser; "that is, not if you drink Pommery and Grey-nose." |
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