Ultimately, on the proposal of Lord HOWARD DE WALDEN, seconded by Mr. JOSEF HOLBROOKE, a small committee was appointed, consisting of Sir EDWARD ELGAR, Professor BANTOCK, Madame CLARA BUTT, Mr. BEN DAVIES and Sir HENRY WOOD, to enquire into the different proposals, and the meeting dispersed to the strains of "For he might have been a Rooshan." * * * * * [Illustration: A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES.] * * * * * "The audience was divided into two sections; the Smith supporters cheered every blow Wye landed as a point for their man, while Wye's friends were equally enthusiastic on his behalf."--_Daily Mail._ With the SMITH supporters behind us, and a SMITH referee, we are prepared to take on CARPENTIER. * * * * * [Illustration:_Mother._ "WELL, DARLING, DO YOU REMEMBER _ANYTHING_ THE CLERGYMAN SAID?" _Barbara._ "YES, MUMMY, I HEARD HIM SAY, 'HALF-PAST-SIX'!"] * * * * * "PUNCH" IN HIS ELEMENT. (_Modelled on the Opening Chorus of "Atalanta in Calydon."_) Once in so many calendar spaces _Punch_, appearing on All Fools' Day, Fills with giggles the hours and graces, Causes the hares of March to stay; And the soft sweet hatters along the Strand Remember the dreams of Wonderland, And the chessboard world and the White King's faces, The hamless commons and all the hay. Come with loud bells and belabouring of bladder, Spirit of Laughter, descend on the town With tumbling of paint-pails from top of the ladder And blowing of tiles from the stockbroker's crown; Bind on thy hosen in motley halves Over the rondure and curve of thy calves; The night may be mad, but the morn shall be madder-- Madder than moonshine and madder than brown. What shall I say to it, how shall I pipe of it, Weave it what strains of ineffable things? O that my Muse were a Muse with a gripe of it, Engined with petrol and wafted by wings! For the sorrows and sighings of winter are done, And _Punch_ is appearing on April 1, And a savour of daffodils clings to the type of it, And the buttered balm of a crumpet clings. For the merle and the mavis have joined with the "shover" In drowning the day and the night with their din, And all too soon the unwary lover Is walking about in vestures thin; And the "nuts" are buying their shirts of cotton, And, cast into storage cold, forgotten, From delicate necks they were wont to cover, 'Possum by 'possum, the stoles come in.