[Illustration: OUT OF IT! (_"And the subsequent Proceedings interested him no more._") NEWSPAPER-BOY. "'ERE Y'ARE, SIR! LATEST RESULTS O' THE POLL, SIR!" REJECTED CANDIDATE (_growls_). "OH! GO TO THE DEUCE!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF. _Lady Godiva._ "NOW PROMISE ME, YOU DEAR GOOD MAN, PROMISE ME YOU'LL VOTE FOR LORD JAMES, AND I'LL--_I'LL DIV YOU A TISS!_"] * * * * * THE END OF HENLEY. (_FRAGMENT FROM A HISTORICAL SKETCH YET TO BE WRITTEN._) [Illustration] It was shortly after the middle of July, 1892, that the Great Representative of the British Race stood upon the Victoria Embankment, watching the river-steamers as they passed to and fro. There were few persons about, for the General Election was over, and civilised London was out of Town. Some of civilised London had gone abroad, some were in Scotland, some by the Sea. So the Great Representative expected to see no one. "_Mr. Punch_, I believe!" said some one, approaching the Great Representative. The speaker was a person who wore a garb peculiarly suitable to the autumnal sultriness of the weather. He had about a couple of yards of calico, and one good coating of serviceable paint. The Great Representative bowed his head, and by a gesture, invited further explanation. "I am connected with the literary world, and am a Colonist. I am known, or used to be known (for I am getting a trifle out of date), as Lord MACAULAY's New-Zealander." Again the Great Representative bowed. He knew his visitor, and bade him welcome. Then he asked him the cause of his visit. "Well, I really don't know," replied the New-Zealander, with a short laugh. "I am afraid I must have been hoaxed. I was told that England was absolutely ruined, and was looking for a comfortable seat amongst the remains of London Bridge." "You see you are slightly premature," returned the Great Representative, pointing towards a more or less majestic pile in the offing. "There was some talk of rebuilding the structure some short while ago, but a viaduct near the Tower was considered preferable. When it is opened, there will be Knighthoods for the Sheriffs, and a Baronetcy for the Lord MAYOR." "And yet," pondered the New-Zealander, "I was certainly informed by wire, that the glory of Britain had vanished for ever." "Very likely an Election cry," observed _Mr. Punch_, "In the midst of a contested polling, both sides think the success of their rivals must be followed by immediate disaster. But somehow or other, things settle down afterwards, and nothing comes of it. Whichever side wins, the old flag floats in the wind as gaily and as prosperously as ever."