[Illustration: _The Colonel._ "Dash it, Sir, what do you mean by not having a light on your confounded hoop?"] * * * * * BOWLES WITHOUT A BIAS. [With the author's congratulations to "Cap'n" TOMMY BOWLES on the appearance of his new quarterly review, _The Candid_, whose declared aim is "to deal with Public Affairs faithfully and frankly ... and without Party bias." Among its contents are articles on "The New Corruption: The Caucus and the Sale of Honours," and "An Opposition Impotent."] I know a man of simple mind, Gamaliel Nibbs by name, Whose early faith in human kind Burned like a Vestal flame; No wind of doubt that stirs the dust Fluttered that bright and constant taper; But oh, he had his dearest trust Pinned to his daily paper. Not once he paused awhile to ask Whence was their wisdom caught Who undertook the nightly task Of shaping England's thought; He pictured gods that drove the pen Aloof on high Olympian levels, And not a staff of haggard men Hustled by printer's devils. Then came a shock eight years ago: The Rads, he thought, were dished; The Tory Press had just to show The People what it wished; And yet, for all its wealth and size, For all its mammoth circulations, The country saw the Liberals rise And sweep the polling-stations. And, when the same sad case occurred Twice in a single year, Gamaliel, moulting like a bird, Mislaid his lightsome cheer; Yet, even so, he would not let His confidence in all that's best rust Until _The Pall Mall_ went and set Its teeth against "The Press Trust." The writer dropped some dreadful hints Of One whose sole decree Governed the views of various prints Not to be named by me; He disapproved of paper rings; In language almost rudely blunt he Dilated on the puppet-strings Pulled by a monstrous _Bunty_. Our hero's faith grew sick and pale, Yet was not all forlorn, Till Mr. MAXSE charged _The Mail_ With blowing WINSTON'S horn; And drew his axe and dyed it pink With blood of Tories, blade to handle-- Blood of a Press that chose to blink The late Marconi scandal. This finished off Gamaliel Nibbs. Beside his morning mess No journal lies to-day: he jibs At all the Party Press; He counts it stuff for common souls, And means to get his mind expanded By sampling truths that Mr. BOWLES Embodies in _The Candid_. Browsing on TOMMY'S fearless Tracts, A strong and generous food, He'll take his fill of meaty facts Not to be lightly chewed:-- Corruption in the highest seats; Impotence in the Opposition; The Ship of State, with flapping sheets, Moving to mere perdition.