RESULT--_Next train not starting for an hour-and-a-half, that period is spent, with much consumption of consolatory cherry brandy, at_ LAYTON'S. So that the Windsor Bridge toll was altogether a demoralising institution. * * * * * LAST WORDS.--Said the then LORD MAYOR (as reported in the _Standard_), now EX-LORD MAYOR, at the BARNATO Banquet given by his Ex-Lordship, then Lordship, at the Munching House: "Whatever mistakes I might have made during the past twelve months, I am sure that I have made no mistake this night. (_Applause._)" Odd! Why, Ex-Lord Mayor RENALS never made a greater mistake in thinking he hadn't made any mistakes, and no mistake! * * * * * NICE FOR COLD WEATHER.--"A Wrap o' the Knuckles" (suggested by _A Chili Widow_). * * * * * [Illustration: FROM ERIN. _Restaurant Waiter._ "BILL, SORR? YES, SORR. IT'S FOIVE-AND-SIX-PENCE INCLUDING THE CIGYAR, AND THAT MAKES SIX SHILLINGS SORR!"] * * * * * JOSEPH'S DREAM. (_A New Song to an Old Setting._) [Mr. CHAMBERLAIN has apparently satisfied himself that Imperial Federation is not a mere dream, as many among us and in the Colonies still regard it. Such dreams, he remarked, have a way of being realised. "It is a dream that appeals to the highest sentiments of patriotism, and even of our material interests. It is a dream calculated to stimulate and improve every one who cares for the future of the Anglo-Saxon race."--_Leeds Mercury._] AIR--"_Let me Dream Again._" _New Colonial Minister carolleth:_-- Our sun's _not_ setting, as fools said of late, Nor shall it, whilst _I_ stand at England's gate! The cheers are ringing at the words I say, As I point the Kingdom to the Federal way. I say it appeals to our patriot sentiment, And the Colonies are gathering round in calm content: Is this a dream? Then waking would be pain. Oh, do not wake me! Let me dream again! The thought is striking, one to make man tower, Of the Federation of Old England's power. Our children grow up as time onward glides, But though youth may pass away, home-love abides. The Little-Englanders were wrong, somehow. They said we must part; ah! but dare they say so now? Is this a dream? Then waking would be pain. Oh, do not wake me! Let me dream again! * * * * * Golf is becoming quite the rage in the United States. A game which has been described as "hitting a ball in the morning and spending the afternoon in search of it" might have been thought too slow for Cousin JONATHAN. Not a bit of it. The lynx-eyed American eagle has developed a keen eye for the links, and the best green is said to be in the neighbourhood of Bunker's Hill. * * * * *