Such a man needs no “discoverer” to prove his existence; he is self-evident. When we grow so purblind as to need a still blinder Mole to point us out the sun, then, but not till then shall we require the assistance of the Superannuated to “discover” what we understand by a Poet. At present we are actively conscious both of the orb of day, and the true quality of genius; and though the Poet we choose for ourselves and silently acknowledge as worthy of all honour, may not be, and seldom is, the recommended favourite of a clique, we are fully aware of him, and show our love and appreciation by setting his book among our household gods. No “limited edition” will suffice for such a man; we need to have his poems singing about us wherever we go. For the oft-repeated truth is to-day as true as ever,--that the Great Poet is “born,” and never has been and never will be “made.” THE PRAYER OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P. WHICH HE PRAYETH DAILY O thou Especial Little God of Parliaments and Electors, with whom the greater God of the Universe has nothing whatever to do!--I beseech Thee to look upon me, Thy chosen servant, with a tolerant and favourable Eye! Consider with Leniency the singular and capricious Chance which has enabled me to become a Member of the Government, and grant me Thy protection, so that my utter Incapacity for the Post may never be discovered! Enable me, I implore Thee, to altogether dispense with the assistance of a certain Journalist and Press-Reporter in the composition of my Speeches! His Terms are high, and I am not sure of his Discretion!