And if they _do_ paint here or there A man among the cherubim, I claim to know why not a hair May grow upon the face of him? I know the Roman Church decreed "A priest shall wear a shaven face." But what of angels? There indeed Razor and strop seem out of place. Then why this hairless cheek and chin? I ask, and Echo answers Why? Have angel-cheeks no roots within? --Here comes my keeper. So, good-bye! * * * * * RECKLESS.--"Mr. ALLEN, Senator of Albraska, a prominent silverite, spoke for fifteen hours." "Speech is silver. Silence golden." If all silverites go on at this length, there'll be no silence, _ergo_, no gold. Q. E. D. * * * * * [Illustration: "L'UNION FAIT LA-FARCE!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "OUT FOR AN OTTER-DAY!"] * * * * * MY PRETTY JANE AT A LATER SEASON. (_Respectfully submitted for the consideration of Mr. Sims Reeves._) My pretty Jane, my pretty Jane, You still, you still are looking shy! You never met me in the evening When the bloom was on the rye. The year is waning fast, my love; The leaves are in the sere; The fog-horns now are humming, love; And the moonshine's "moonshine," dear. But, pretty Jane, my dearest Jane, I never will "say die";-- Come, meet me, meet me in our parlour, Where the bloom is on the fly. Just name your day, that mother may Produce her best in china things, And stop yon man in apron white, Whose muffin-bell, whose muffin-bell now rings. The year is waning fast, &c. * * * * * "A TRIPLE BILL."--"The Home Rule Bill," said Mr. CHAMBERLAIN to his American friends, "is not scotched. It is killed." Of course our JOE knows that were it "scotched" it would be only "half kilt." But the idea of an Irish Bill being Scotched! Our only JOE might have added that it was "Welsh'd" in the Lords. * * * * * PH[OE]BUS, WHAT A NAME!--Sir COMER PETHERAM, Chief Justice of Bengal, is coming home. Welcome, Sir HOME-COMER PETHERAM. Or, why not Sir HOMER PETHERAM for short? * * * * * TO A YOUNG COUNTRY FRIEND, AGED SEVEN. (_Who whistled of Monte Carlo not wisely, but too well._)