O (Brummagem) Tory Beauty, 'Tis yours to consecrate The holiest Alliance Our land hath seen of late. Shall he reject its symbol, Or answer "Not for JOE!"? Nay, sweet girl, such a churl Were no "Gentleman" you know; And JOE is "quite the Gentleman," Brum BRUMMEL in full blow! Then courage, all brave Unionists, And never be afraid Whilst Brummagem Republican Is witched by Primrose Maid. There is soft fascination In radiant rank, we know; And a posy, though primrosy, From soft hands makes soft hearts glow, Lilies--though they toil not nor spin Are beauteous--in full blow! [Footnote 1: Mr. CHAMBERLAIN was once reported to have congratulated himself upon his co-operation with "English Gentlemen."] * * * * * [Illustration: _Chappie_ (_after missing his fourth Stag, explains_). "AW--FACT IS, THE--AW--WAVING GRASS WAS IN MY WAY." _Old Stalker._ "HOOT, MON, WAD YE HAE ME BEING OUT A SCYTHE?"] * * * * * LORD LYTTON. BORN NOV. 8, 1831. DIED NOV. 24, 1891. Were clever wise, were grandiose great, How many a servant of the State Had left a more enduring name. But all is not for all; 'tis far From flaming meteor to fixed star, From notoriety to fame. Picturesque son of brilliant sire, It wanted but the touch of fire Prometheus only knows to bring The flame divine in him to wake Who moved our plaudits when he spake, But stirred no passion when he'd sing. The Orient pageantry he loved, The histrio not the hero moved, The _dilettante_ not the sage. Hence in our England's East his hand Turned, in a story sternly grand, A motley mock-heroic page. He by the Seine found fitter place For courtly wit and modish grace, Than by the Indus. There right well His facile talent served his Chief; And England hears with genuine grief That sudden-sounding passing bell. * * * * * NEW NAME. Who prizes Literature? All sorts and sizes Of literary wares now hang on "prizes." 'Tis not prose fictionists or poem-spinners The public rush for; no, 'tis "all the winners!" Letters in lotteries find support most sure-- Let us be frank, and call them _Lottery_ture! * * * * * SUITOR RESARTUS. _A SENTIMENTAL DILEMMA._ [Illustration]