The only Mayor I know--at least I know by sight--a splendid creature, Whose presence at a civic feast Is always a conspicuous feature, Has lately in his favourite organ Proclaimed his ignorance of DE MORGAN. Again, the other day I ran Against a friend ('twas in Long Acre), A simple estimable man-- He plies the trade of undertaker-- Who filled me with dismay and awe By asking, "Who is BERNARD SHAW?" My hatter, too, who ranks among The leaders of his useful calling, Shows in regard to FILSON YOUNG An apathy that's quite appalling, For this benighted, blighted hatter Has never read _The Things that Matter_! Saddest of all, a Don I know, A man of curious futile learning, Studied JANE AUSTEN long ago With admiration undiscerning, Till _Mr. Bennett_, thanks to JANE, Ousted all others from his brain. * * * * * THE OLD BULLDOG BREED. _The Wavecrest Hydro, Hastings._ _To the Editor of "Punch."_ Dear Sir,--I have on several previous occasions communicated to you some instructive and illuminating examples of the extraordinary intelligence of my dog Boanerges, but so far (doubtless owing to extreme pressure on your space) you have not been able to publish them. In view of the present grave national emergency, however, I feel confident that you will be able to find space for the latest instance. Boanerges is of the old bulldog breed; that is to say, he is not precisely a bulldog, but inherits the breed from one of his grandfathers. Superficially he presents more the appearance of a wire-haired retriever pom, and it has been difficult to classify him at Dog Shows. Indeed, I have claimed for him (though unsuccessfully up to the present) a new class, viz., Pom-Poms. _The Canine Chronicle_ lent me the weight of its editorial support, suggesting as an alternative name: Dum-Dums, or Soft-Nosed Bullettes, but I fear me it was scarcely dignified enough to carry weight with the authorities. However, all that is by the way. His heart is in the right place. No WILHELM shall land upon Hastings soil while Boanerges guards the beach.