Papers have been promised on "Cats, and How to Tackle them," on "The Temptation presented by Cyclists' Calves," and on "Hygienic Kennels." A very attractive programme of excursions to places of interest in the vicinity has also been arranged. Members of the Congress will be enabled to swim over to the south side of the Thames, and inspect the Dogs' Home at Battersea, if the Manager will admit them. A happy day among the deer in Greenwich Park is contemplated, and Barking will of course receive a visit. Altogether, if the police do not interfere, a thoroughly enjoyable outing is anticipated. * * * * * THE CURSE. A FRAGMENT À LA INGOLDSBY. The Spectre arose with a menacing look, He called not for candle, for bell, or for book, But in terrible tones, growing gruffer and gruffer, He solemnly cursed that deluded Old Buffer! He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed, From his buniony feet to his shiny bald head; He cursed him in sleeping, that every night He should dream about burglars and wake in a fright; He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in drinking, With troubles dyspeptic and feelings of "sinking"; He cursed him in walking, in running, in flying, In puffing and panting, in freezing and frying, With horror of living and longing for dying. He banished him harshly from home, couch, and cook, His favourite chair, and his best-beloved book; From afternoon snooze, and from snug evening smoke, From old-fashioned "rubber," and elderly joke; From pottering round in his trim-bedded garden, From down-at-heel slippers, old coat, and churchwarden; Condemned him to dress in swell togs void of ease, To hurry and scurry, to crowd and to squeeze; To horrible burdens and journeys of length, Exceedingly trying to temper and strength; To puff like a porpoise, to pant and perspire, To doing--_whatever he didn't desire_! Never was heard such a horrible curse! But what may give rise To some little surprise, This curse, at which courage may shiver and shake, It only condemned the Old Buffer to take His Annual Holiday!! _What can be worse?_ * * * * * THE VACUOUS TIME. ["Sea-serpents are now in season, and running very large."--_The Unlicensed Victualler._] Let Cowes delight in barques that bite Their furrows o'er the fallow main, Careering round the Isle of Wight, And ultimately home again. Some men may go to Westward Ho! And potter gravely through the greens, Or lease a little moor, and blow The harmless grouse to smithereens; Or flit across to fjord and _fos_, And captivate the toothsome trout Or hack initials on a _schloss_, And chuck their orange-peel about.