_De Omnibus Rebus_, by the author of _Flemish Interiors_. An odd book to be taken up at odd times. Amusing and chatty with a good deal of shrewd observation. He who rides may read; and as it is published by NIMMO, this firm in this instance might adopt the old Latin motto, "_'Nimmo' mortalium omnibus horis sapit_;" i.e. "NIMMO is wise to bring out a book for the omnibus hours of mortals." OUR OWN BOOKWORM. * * * * * [Illustration] Madame PATTI'S house, in some unpronounceable Welsh place, was broken into by burglars. We hope they didn't rob her of any notes. The thieves came from Town--they were not Welshmen, oh no! _Mr. Punch_ has always asserted of the Welsh,-- "Taffy's not a thief." And it wasn't Taffy who went to PATTI'S house and stole a matter of seven pounds' worth of French francs. They found a box of M. NICOLINI'S cigars. But the thieves knew where to draw the line, and chucked the lot away in the garden, among the other weeds. They were "up to snuff," but not to tobacco in this form. Query, will M. NICOLINI'S friends be delighted to accept cigars from his case in future? *** The Centenary of _Don Giovanni_ was celebrated at the two Universities by a banquet of the principal Dons. * * * * * BARTLETT'S BABY. Welcome little Stranger! You Are the darling of the Zoo, BARTLETT'S babe, the public pet. Lucky, lucky Zoo to get, At a cost scarce worth the mention, Living proof beyond contention Of--oh! well, of whatsoever _Savants_ sage and critics clever, On their controversial mettle, May--or maybe may _not_--settle. Six-and-twenty years ago (Buffers elderly may know) Rose the great Gorilla feud; Dr. GRAY was rather rude, Rather on DU CHAILLU down, And the shindy stirred the Town. OWEN, great on brains and bones, Lectured it in learned tones; HUXLEY to the battle rushed; Mutually they "pished" and "tushed" In that calm and courteous way _Savants_ have, when they're in fray. _Mr. Punch_, with ample reason, Called you "Lion of the Season," Great Gorilla. Now 'tis plain The old fame revives again. Happy BARTLETT! Lucky Ape! Fortune comes in curious shape. You perchance, oh simian child! Might have roamed the Afric wild, Like a nigger unreclaimed. Unobserved, unknown, unnamed, Fame concerning you quite dumb, Even your "colossal thumb," By the scribes who columns vamp us, Undescribed; your "hippo-campus" (Whatsoever _that_ may be) Not of notoriety. Now!--Ah, infantine Gorilla, Every small suburban villa With your rising fame will ring; All the sort of folk who bring Buns unto the prisoned bear, To your cage will come, and stare. Buns? Oh, BARTLETT,--master sage, Autocrat of den and cage!-- Nothing will begrudge, I'm sure, That may nourish, please, or cure His prognathous little pet. Half the luxuries you'll get Would leave satiate and cloyed