He deemed himself, and this was odd, A sort of new Olympian god; And when the wise, who watched his whim, Sighed, "Have the gods demented him? _Quem deus vult, et cetera_" he Was just as mad as mad could be; And, just like other angry boys, Kicked over tables, smashed his toys, And cried out, "Take the things away! I'll have nought but new toys to-day!" "Prudence?" he yelled; "what do _I_ care?" And here he kicked the old pet Bear His sire and grandsire had so cherished, Till the old policy had perished With Wilful WILHELM, who preferred The Eagles. With a pole he stirred Big Bruin up. "Oh, _I_'ll surprise him! And, if he growls, I'll 'pulverise' him." Some thought that picking rows with Bruin Meant folly, if it did not ruin; But when they whispered words of warning, Then Wilful WILHELM, counsel scorning, Shrieked, "Take the nasty brute away! I won't have any Bears to-day!" Now, WILHELM, do not be absurd, But listen to a friendly word! You are a clever boy, no doubt, And very smart, and very stout, Like young AUGUSTUS, dainty eater, Whose story is in _Struwwelpeter_. Did'st ever read those truthful stories, Good Dr. HEINRICH HOFFMANN's glories, Which round the world have travelled gaily, By Nursery pets consulted daily? If not, just get "Shock-headed PETER"; Read of AUGUSTUS, the soup-eater, And stuck-up "JOHNNY Head-in-Air," Who came down "bump" all unaware. And "Fidgety PHILIP." You'll confess them Pointed,--and don't try to suppress them, Like Princes, party-men and papers Which can't admire _all_ your mad capers! My Wilful WILHELM, you'll not win By dint of mere despotic din; By kicking everybody over In whom a critic you discover, Or shouting in your furious way, "Oh, take the nasty _Punch_ away! I won't have any _Punch_ to-day!" * * * * * WHAT THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, MR. PUNCH, SAYS TO THE ARTISTS' CORPS.--"Gentlemen, you would no doubt like a brush with the enemy, to whom you will always show a full face. Any colourable pretence for a skirmish won't suit your palette. You march with the colours, and, like the oils, you will never run.' You all look perfect pictures, and everybody must admire your well-knit frames. Gentlemen, I do not know whether you will take my concluding observation as a compliment or not, but I need hardly say that it is meant to be both truthful and complimentary, and it is this, that though you are all Artists, you look perfect models," * * * * * [Illustration: CONSCIENTIOUS. _Mr. Boozle_ (_soliloquises_). "MY MEDICAL MAN TOLD ME NEVER ON ANY ACCOUNT TO MIX MY WINES. SO I'LL FINISH THE CHAMPAGNE FIRST, AND _THEN_ TACKLE THE CLARET!"] * * * * * "BUTCHER'D TO MAKE--." [On Monday the 14th a "lion-tamer" was torn to pieces in a show at Hednesford.]