"WELL--IT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A YOUNG MAN, YOU KNOW, AND THAT'S SO EFFEMINATE!"] * * * * * DOGGEREL BY A "DISHER." [On September 1 the Free Education Act came into force throughout England and Wales.] Remember, remember The first of September And Free Education's sly plot; I know no reasons Why cancelling fees on The poor should not silence Rad rot! * * * * * A NOTE AND QUERY.--At the enthronement of Dr. MACLAGAN as Archbishop of York "the band of the First Royal Dragoons," says the _Daily Graphic_, "played an appropriate march." That the band of the Royal Dragoons should symbolically and cymballically represent the Church Militant is right enough; but what is "a march appropriate" to an Archbishop? One of BISHOP's glees would have been more suitable to the occasion. Henceforth Dr. MACLAGAN can say, if he likes, "I'_m Arch_-bishop of Canterbury!" * * * * * "THE GREAT LOAN LAND."--Russia. * * * * * THE GROUSE THAT JACK SHOT. (_A SOLEMN TRAGEDY OF THE SHOOTING SEASON._) This is the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This is the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This is the label addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot. This is the Babel where lost was the label addressed to the friend, &c. This is the porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was the label, &c. This is the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the porter who "found" the "birds," &c. This is the cooking-wench florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, &c. This is the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-maid florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, &c. This is the _gourmand_ all forlorn, who dreamed of the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-wench florid and fat, &c. This is the postman who knocked in the morn awaking the _gourmand_ all forlorn from his dream of the table, &c. And this is _Jack_ (with a face of scorn), thinking in wrath of "directions" torn from the parcel by Railway borne, announced by the postman who knocked in the morn, awaking the _gourmand_ all forlorn, who dreamed of the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-wench florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was the label addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot! MORAL. If in the Shooting Season you some brace of birds would send (As per letter duly posted) to a fond expectant friend, Pray remember that a railway is the genuine modern Babel, And be very very careful _how you fasten on the label_! * * * * * A MUSICAL SUGGESTION. (_CERTAINLY NEW AND ORIGINAL._)