Upon his Lordship's hinges Revolved his Lordship's portal, Till thence, with stealthy twinges, Emerged what seemed a mortal; A lamp was nigh to show him,-- I'd not been quaffing toddy,-- I'm privileged to know him,-- It _was_--His Lordship's _Body_. Now _if_ his Major-Domo Told truth--and who can doubt him? His Lordship was at Como, And number six without him. His Lordship, I reflected, Can earthly trammels o'erstep, And, "astrally projected" From Como, reach his doorstep. 'Twas very odd--I know that; But then the "spook"-deriding Must undertake to show that His Lordship was in hiding; That London still detained him-- Him one of Britain's leaders! And frank avowal pained him.-- Well, you must judge, my readers. * * * * * HER SAILOR HAT. [Illustration] Oh, AMARYLLIS, in the shade Of Rotten Row, with ribbons, feather, And wide-spread brim your hat is made! Down by the sea, in windy weather, A sailor hat, So small and flat, Is far more natty altogether. Down by, or on, the waves where swim The tribes which poets christen "finny," This hat might not, with narrow brim, Become a spinster sear and skinny-- Some say "old cat"-- Nor one too fat, Nor little brat, small piccaninny. But, with it fixed upon your hair, When breezes blow your flapping dresses, You look, if possible, more fair; There's one beholder who confesses He dotes on that Sweet sailor hat, When gazing at those sweeter tresses. * * * * * BALFOUR'S BOON. (_By an admiring M.P._) After hours of dullard, rasper, ranter, Sweet an interlude of BALFOUR'S banter! JOSEPH'S venom, HARCOURT'S heavy clowning, Tired us, in a sea of dulness drowning; When, hillo! here is PRINCE ARTHUR chaffing Mr. G. and all the House is laughing! Never were such light artistic raillery, Nothing spiteful, naught played to the gallery; Finished fun, _ad unguem_, poignant, polished. Fled fatigue, and dulness was demolished. Even the great victim chortled merrily, That short speech should be "selected," verily, For the next edition of the _Speaker_. No coarse slogger, and no crude nose-tweaker Is PRINCE ARTHUR. GLADSTONE first is reckoned At gay chaff, but BALFOUR'S a good second. * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY. _Miss Bessy._ "WON'T _YOU_ SING SOMETHING, CAPTAIN BELSIZE?" _Captain Belsize._ "OH! I NO LONGER SING NOW. _DO_ I, MISS CAROLINE?" _Miss Caroline._ "I'M AFRAID YOU _DO_, CAPTAIN BELSIZE!"] * * * * * TRYING HER STRENGTH. ["The one certain result of the elections will be to give increased stability to the Republic."--_Daily Chronicle._] _Madame La République loquitur_:--