No, boy, I don't greatly believe in the birch, (Though sometimes my _bâton_ must play--on rogues' shoulders.) Love's rather too apt to be left in the lurch By Orbilian smiters and scolders. Under the Mistletoe Bough A kiss is best treatment, I trow. A salute from the lips of your _Punch_ you'll not spurn, And the young guests around you shall each take a turn. The outlook, my lad, seems a little bit drear, There are clouds and storm-shadows about the horizon, But--well, you're a chubby and rosy Young Year As ever your PUNCHY set eyes on. Under the Mistletoe Bough You look mighty kissable--now. So here goes another, for luck like, my dear, As we wish everybody A Happy New Year! * * * * * OLD MORALITY'S CHRISTMAS CARD AND NEW YEAR WISHES. This communication is designed to convey the expression of the wish that on the 25th of December and proximate days you, and those not distantly connected with you by family ties, may have enjoyed a season of Wholesome Hilarity, and that the new period of twelve months, upon which we are about to enter, may be Suffused with Happiness. (_Signed_) W.H.S. _Henley-on-Thames, New Year's Eve_, 1890. * * * * * THE PERFECT UNION OF CHURCH AND STATE is exemplified in the title and name of BISHOP KING. * * * * * [Illustration: "A HAPPY NEW YEAR!"] * * * * * [Illustration: "DEFENCE, NOT DEFIANCE." "In these days of conflicts between Counsel, I propose to make a few additions to my usual forensic costume."--_Extract from a Letter of Mr. Welnown Kewsee, Q.C., to a young Friend_.] * * * * * AT THE END OF THE YEAR. To a Friend, Do you remember how we sat, We two, in this same room together Last year, and talked of this and that, And warmed our toes and cursed the weather? And dreamed of fame, and puffed a cloud (We both smoked briars, I remember), And sipped our whiskey hot, and vowed To do or die ere next December? We spoke without respect of BEN, BEN who was ploughed, or very nearly; _Now_ BEN bamboozles jurymen, And makes his thousand guineas yearly. We both despised the wretched JOE, My fag at school, your butt at College. Dull, elephantine, pompous, slow, Choked with absurdly useful knowledge. Yet JOE assists to give us laws, Speaks in the House, and shows his fat form, 'Midst empty thunders of applause, Erect on many a Tory platform. And poor, inconsequential JACK, His mind a maze, like Mr. TOOTS's, Has married money, keeps a hack, And has a big account at COUTTS's. TOM owns a house in Belgrave Square, And DICK is noted for his dinners-- Life is a race, but was it fair, We asked, that _these_ should be the winners?