IN A PICKWICKIAN SENSE.--When "a nate Irishman" (as the song has it) "meets with a friend," he incontinently "for love knocks him down," whether with a "sprig of shillelagh" or a "flower of speech," depends upon circumstances. In either case he "means no harm," or at any rate far less harm than the phlegmatic and matter-of-fact Saxon is apt to fancy. Probably, therefore, an "Irish Phrase Book," giving the real "meaning" of Hibernian rhetorical epithets, would prove a great peacemaker, in Parliament and out. Colonel SAUNDERSON, when he had recovered his temper, and with it his wit, "toned down" the provocative "murderous ruffian," into the inoffensive "excited politician." But what a pity it is that "excited politicians" so often string themselves up to (verbal) "ruffianism." * * * * * THE LAST LIGHT. [Illustration] It scarce can be thou art the last To fade before my watchful gaze; So short the part that each one plays, A flickering flame, and life is past. And thou wert clothed in robe of snow, A crimson veil around thy head, And now thou liest, charred and dead, Erstwhile with ruddy fire aglow. I held thee in a fond embrace To guard thee from the whistling wind; And not another can I find To comfort me and take thy place. And though I lay aside my weeds, Yet like a widow I bemoan; Nor all the wealth the Indies own, Could satisfy my present needs. Thy spark has vanished from my sight, Useless cigar, tobacco, pipe; Of perfect misery the type, A man without another light. * * * * * EMPLOYMENT FOR THE UNEMPLOYED.--On Tuesday, in last week, the Unemployed had their hands full, when at Temple Avenue they unsuccessfully attempted to overcome the effective resistance of the Police. The Unemployed might have been better employed. * * * * * THE STAR OF HOPE. (_A New Naval Ode._) [Illustration] [The Royal Commission on Telegraphic Communication between Lighthouses and Lightships and the Shore, have issued their first report recommending immediate action in the more urgent cases. Dealing with the same subject, on November 28, 1891, _Mr. Punch_ said:-- "_Punch_ pictures with prophetic pen, a brighter, cheerier page, Which _must be turned_, and speedily."--_See "The Sweet Little Cherub that Sits up Aloft_," (_Modern Version as it Must Be_) Vol. ci., p. 254. _Mr. Punch_ is mightily pleased that his injunction has been obeyed, and that his prophecy is in process of fulfilment.] I. Ye Mariners of England, Shipwrecked in our home seas, How this will calm your wives' wild fears, And give your stout hearts ease! Hope's blue eyes gleam above the main, Her lifted light will glow, And sweep o'er the deep, When the stormy winds do blow; When the tempest rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. II.