When Pawpish Doctors disagree As to what maks gude the _Pop’s_ decree, The warth o’t canna be ane bawbee To ae canna Scot of a mornin’. Nae dogmies _Pio_ will discuss To prove whilk wad auld Nick _nonplus_: And sae he cries _non-possumus_; Canna meet _Johnnie Cumming_ i’ the mornin’. _Punch._ ――――:o:―――― KHARTOUM. The Camels are coming at last, at last! Over the desert so fast, so fast! Daring canoe-men from Canada’s shore Mock Father Nile, and his cataract’s roar The might of Old England is felt once more―― Thanks to the Franchise Bill. The Camels are coming at last, at last! The dream of dishonour has passed, has passed. But this we owe not to Gordon’s fame, Or the growing power of that hero’s name, Or to Europe’s echoing cry of “Shame”―― But to the Franchise Bill. The Camels are coming at last, at last! The trumpets peal forth their warlike blast, Every nerve must now be strained, New prestige must now be gained, Money be spent and blood be rained―― To save the Franchise Bill. C. B. S. _The Globe_, September 30, 1884. ――――:o:―――― THE MILLIONAIRE ON THE MOORS. My ’art’s in the ’Ighlands, my ’art it ain’t ’ere, My ’art’s in the ’Ighlands, along of the deer; Along of the wild deer, the buck and the doe; My ’art’s in the ’Ighlands, I’d ’ave you to know. I bought bare estates up of lairds proud and poor, As they ’adn’t the money to live on a moor, Now like any Duke I my deer-forest keep, And grouse-shootins also――don’t care much for sheep. I now and agin leave my ware’ouse be’ind, Go North for refreshment of ’ealth and of mind, Where solitude reigns on the ’eath all around, On the ’ole of my propputty I don’t ’ear a sound. There’s no eagles now in the mountain’s to scream, And as for the gos’awk, ‘is whistle’s a dream. There’s never no falcons a flyin’ about, Shot down by the keepers to them I bought out. Poor beggars, and therefore you’ll own they was free, Theirselves, from romance, quite as much so as me, In Town whilst attendin’ to bisnis, although My ’art’s in the ’Ighlands wherever I go. _Punch_, October 27, 1883. ――――:o:―――― THE TOURIST’S MATRIMONIAL GUIDE THROUGH SCOTLAND. The following song, to the tune of “_Woo’d and married an’ a’_,” was written by a distinguished Scotch judge, Lord Neaves, it may therefore be taken as giving a correct view of the curious state of the Scotch law relating to marriage.