SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR.--The _Pall Mall Gazette_ announced last Friday that "a bevy of head-masters will appear in the pulpit of St. Paul's this month." How many go to a "bevy" we are not aware, though perhaps we might ascertain it from Sir DRURIOLANUS, who could inform us, after several crowded houses, how many go to see the "bevy," and how many combine to make up a "bevy," of ballet beauties in the pantomime; but putting it say at a dozen, the bevy of head-masters in their caps and gowns would find the pulpit of St. Paul's rather a tight fit. Pretty sight though, anyway. * * * * * [Illustration: HARLEQUIN HARCOURT, THE SLEEPING BEAUTY, AND THE FINANCIAL FAIRY PRINCE.--(_See "New Year's Day Dream."_)] * * * * * [Illustration: A HEAVY RESPONSIBILITY. (_Hounds going from Covert to Covert._) _Master Jack_ (_to M.F.H._). "I SAY, YOU KNOW, AWFUL NUISANCE THE WAY THESE WOMEN FOLLOW A FELLOW OVER _EVERYTHING!_ MAKES A MAN HAVE TO BE SO BEASTLY CAREFUL WHAT HE _JUMPS_, DON'T YOU KNOW!"] * * * * * THE NEW YEAR'S DAY DREAM. _A Tennysonian Fragment from the Popular Pantomime of "Harlequin Harcourt, the Sleeping Beauty, and the Financial Fairy Prince."_ ["The Revenue Returns," says the _Daily News_, "for the expired three quarters of the financial year show that a sum of close upon £62,000,000 has been paid into the Exchequer. The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER'S estimated revenue for the whole year was a little over £94,000,000. This is regarded as an indication of the revival of trade, and the promise of a substantial surplus for the next Budget."] THE ARRIVAL. All blessèd boons, though coming late, To those who wait them issue forth, For skill in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth. He comes, great keeper of our tin, He is no Tory _Hurlo-Thrumbo!_ A fairy Prince, with triple chin, And heavy-footed as poor _Jumbo!_ He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks, Though he has heard of Sleeping Beauties. He hath been dreaming many weeks Of Income Tax, Stamps, and Death Duties. He'd charmed the party with his talk Of Graduation; now grey fear Knocks at his ribs, his cheek's like chalk, With thoughts of Revenue for the Year. More close and close his footsteps wind, The next year's Budget on his heart. From Stamps and Liquor will he find Big plums? Will rich taxpayers "part"? Here's sleeping Trade! "Lor! what a lark!" He thinks. "To wake her--were a spree! A kiss _may_ lift those lashes dark; She can't resist a buss--from Me!" THE REVIVAL.