"If the Public--_and_ the Slops--wos always fly to wot _we_ done, 'Long o' widened streets and gas-light, wy we'd 'ave no blooming fun. Lagged for larrupping yer missus, nailed for boozing till yer nod? Wy, you jabbering young Juggins, _we should always be in quod!_" 'Ard nut is NOCKY SPRIGGINGS--of the sort as make the slums, 'Cos there ain't much chance for cleanness, or for comfort, when _he_ comes. He's as 'appy in the dirt, gents, as a blowfly or a 'og; Or poor Paddy in his tater-patch alongside of a bog; He'd chop up 'is doors and winders for a fire to 'ot his lush, Don't care a 'ang for decency, and never raised a blush. But, arter my hexperience--and I've 'ad some down our court-- I believe that--fair at bottom--it's the Slum as makes _his_ sort. Anyways I'm pooty certain, if we'd got more light and space, And were not jammed up together in a filthy, ill-drained place; If the sunlight could but see us, and the public _and_ the cops, There would be less booze and bashing, fewer drabs and drinking-shops. Aye, and fewer NOCKY SPRIGGINGSES! I don't go for to say As it's _all_ along o' Landlords, who'd rent 'ell, if 'twould but pay; But I've noticed you find fewest mice where there are lots of cats, And where there ain't no rat-holes, well--yer won't spot many rats! * * * * * THE LAST DISCOVERY. (_A SEQUEL TO A RECENT LECTURE. BY MR. PUNCH'S PROPHETIC REPORTER._) The enormous crowd cheered again and again. It was furious. The enthusiasm spread from throng to throng, until a mighty chorus filled every portion of the land. And there was indeed reason for the rejoicing. Had not the great Arctic Explorer come home? Had he not been to the North Pole and back? At that very moment were not a couple of steam-tugs drawing his wooden vessel towards his native shore? It was indeed a moment for congratulation--not only personal but national, nay cosmopolitan. The victory of art over nature belonged to more than a country, it belonged to the world! And the tugs came closer and closer, and the cheers grew louder and louder. Then the vessel bearing the Explorer was near at hand. The crowd joyously jumped into the water, and raising him on their shoulders, bore him triumphantly to land. How they welcomed him! How they seized his hands and kissed them! How they cried and called him "Master," and "Victor," and "Hero!" It was a scene never to be forgotten! When the excitement had somewhat subsided, they began to ask him questions. At last one of them wished to know how he contrived to find the North Pole and get back in safety? "You intended to drift?" said they. "Great and glorious hero, victorious victor, triumphant explorer, did you do this?" "I did," was the reply. "And tell us what was your method of obtaining the knowledge you now possess? Oh, great chief, how _did_ you manage it?" Then came the answer--