_The Foreman_ (_calmly_). No, my Lord. But no doubt the learned Counsel's two Witnesses, had they been present, would have supplied some; and, anyhow, we are so pleased with his talking down to our level, and not--as usual--over our heads, that we are all agreed to find a verdict for his client, the Defendant. _Mr. Smallfee_ (_bowing_). Thanks for your good opinion, Gentlemen. I thought, by the cut of your jibs, you were the right sort. [_Winks, in passing out._ _The Judge._ And this is what the Law has come to! Call on the next case! * * * * * NEW PROVERB (_for the use of the Panama Cheque-takers_).--"The game is not worth the Scandal." * * * * * [Illustration: DISCRETION. "AND HERE'S AN EXTRA SIXPENCE FOR YOU, CABMAN--TO GET YOURSELF SOME _TEA_, YOU KNOW!" "YES, MA'AM! THANK YER, MA'AM! I S'POSE I MAY CHOOSE MY OWN _GROCER_, MA'AM?"] * * * * * WILL WATERPROOF'S MONOLOGUE. _Adapted to a Direct-Vetoed Parish._ O pale Head-Waiter at "The Cock," How changed for you and me Is this sad time! 'Tis five o'clock, Go, fetch a cup of tea; My pint of port is changed to that-- Weak COWPER'S washy liquor! Did tea make Cellarer SIMON fat, Or cheer Bray's jolly Vicar? No more libations to the Muse! Will cocoa make her kind? Will water whisper words to use? Will milk make up my mind, When writing melancholy rhymes, Of days not half forgotten, Before these daft teetotal times When common-sense seems rotten? Head-Waiter, those good pints of port Are stopped for you and me, By legislation of the sort They call grandmotherly; Two-thirds majority has said That alcohol would hurt you, And so you meekly bow your head, And practise painful virtue. We fret, we fume, we scoff, we sneer, And evil fate upbraid; Your care is for the ginger-beer, The milk, the lemonade. To come and go, and come again With coffee that you keep hot, And watched by silent gentlemen, That trifle with the tea-pot. Live long, for water to the head Was never known to fly, Your flabby face will not grow red, Nor will your washy eye. Live long as you can bear these woes, Whilst bigots thus defy sense, Till watery Death's last Veto shows Life's quite suspended licence. "Aquarius," when you shall cease Teetotal drinks to quaff, And end life's not repairing lease, Might be your epitaph. No carved cross-pipes, no pint-pot's wreath, Shall show you past to Heaven; But water-pipes, and, underneath, A milk-pot neatly graven. * * * * * [Illustration: "WANTING TO KNOW;" OR, THE BEWILDERED USHER.] * * * * * ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.