* * * * * The time has now come for _Mr. Punch_ to bid his pupils farewell, which he does with a pleasure that he has some reason to hope will be not unreciprocated. During the few months over which this course has extended, he has made it his aim to furnish the young carpet-knight for the fray as completely as possible, and, if the Amateur Reciter be not (as some hold) already invulnerable, the panoply of pieces with which he has been armed here should go far to render him so. All _Mr. Punch_ would ask in return is that, when any one of his young friends is retiring, flushed with triumph, amidst an intoxicating murmur of faint applause and renewed conversation, after delivering some composition of his Preceptor's, he will not suffer himself to be completely dazzled by success, but will remember the means which have contributed thereto with such gratitude as he may be able to command. * * * * * "DISCOVERIES AT POMPEII."--Under this heading we read in the _Times_ that four silver urns of fair size were found, also four smaller vessels, eight open vases, four cups ornamented with leaves, &c. "Urns" for hot water: "smaller vessels," tea-pots; "eight open vases," sugar-basins; "four cups," tea-cups, "ornamented with leaves,"--very fanciful design, probably tea-leaves,--and there we have before us "Five o'clock Tea, as known to the Ladies of Pompeii." * * * * * THE LEGION OF DISHONOUR. [Illustration] _The Modern Autolycus sings_:-- When parvenus begin to peer, With heigh! the ribbon on the coat! Why, then the love of rank shines clear, In base-blood, spite of the People's vote. The medal gleaming on the breast! With heigh! the red coins how they ring! The Citizens clamour with eager zest, Despite their hate of crown and king! The _bourgeois_ soul star-honours wants, With heigh! the peacock-aping jay! The hunger for honours finds singular haunts, Their sale is a traffic that's bound to pay. I have served Princes, and, in my time, worn Imperial livery, but now I am in the Republic's service. But shall I mourn for that, or fear? Gold glitters, silver's bright, And decorations not _too_ dear Citizen-souls delight. If pedlars may have leave to live, Though "honours" cram their budget, A good account I yet may give; If caught,--I can but trudge it!