Oh, Mr. KIPLING!--you whose pungent pen Of pirate publishers has been the terror, Try hard, I beg you, to forgive me, when I openly confess I wrote in error. It was not you by whom the deed was done. But Mr. JEROME 'twas who wrote and said he Could not contribute, since his Ninety-One Was mortgaged to the Editors already. 'Twas rough on you, indeed, in such a way, By thinking you were he, to dim your glory. Yet pray believe I really grieve to say I mixed you up with quite "another story"! * * * * * DRAMATIC ILLUSTRATION OF AN ADVERTISEMENT.--In one of the advertising columns of the _Times_ the paragraph appeared one day last week. The newspaper containing it lay on the table of a drawing-room. Elderly beau was making up (he was accustomed to making-up in another sense, as his wig and whiskers could testify) to charming young lady. Such was the scene. He asked her to accept him. Her reply was to show him the heading of this advertisement in the _Times_:--"YOUTH WANTED." _Tableau! Exit_ Beau. Curtain. * * * * * [Illustration: MISS PARLIAMENT'S DREAM OF A FANCY BALL. _A Suggestion for Druriolanus at Covent Garden._] * * * * * MR. PUNCH TO MISS CANADA. Oh, Canada, dear Canada, we shall not discombobulate Ourselves concerning JONATHAN. 'Tis true he tried to rob you late (That is if Tariff-diddling may be qualified as robbery), But BULL has learned the wisdom of not kicking up a bobbery. No, Canada, we love you dear, and shall be greatly gratified If by your March Elections our relations are--say ratified. We don't expect self-sacrifice, we do not beg for gratitude, But keep an interested eye, my dear, upon your attitude. Railings and ravings rantipole we hold are reprehensible, But of our kindly kinship we're affectionately sensible. A mother's proud to see her child learning to "run alone," you know; But does not wish to see her "run away" from home, she'll own you know. MACDONALD is magniloquent, perhaps a bit thrasonical; His dark denunciations--at a distance--sound ironical. And when we read the rows between him and Sir RICHARD CARTWRIGHT; dear, We have our doubts if either chief quite plays the patriot part right, dear! But there, we know that party speeches are not _merum nectar_, all, And we can take the measure of magniloquence electoral; The tipple Party Spirit men will stir and whiskey-toddy-fy, But when they have to drink it--cold--its strength they greatly modify. Beware the Ides of March? Oh, no! All auguries we defy, my dear! The spectre of disloyalty don't scare us; all my eye, my dear. So vote away, dear Canada! our faith's in friendly freedom, dear; And croakers, Yank, or Canuck, or home-born, we shall not heed 'em, dear! * * * * * [Illustration: A SENSITIVE EAR.