But DONNERWITZ is not only a MOLTKE, he is also a BISMARCK; flushed and moist with exertion, he has foreseen this move; it is the hour of that inevitable "_Bavaroise_"; the fork has succeeded to the knife: his mouth is at last free to confabulate with his neighbour--the Lady from Chicago. "Wal, I call that slap-up rude," I hear her remark. "In Amur'ca we should just hev' him removed; but Englishmen are built that way; they fancy, I s'pose, they discovered CO-LUMBUS;" and then DONNERWITZ leans over the table and, grasping the united weapons of fork, knife, and spoon, addresses me with effervescent deliberation. "Pardon,--Mister,--but--dis--leddy,--haf--gatarrh; in a Sherman shentleman's house--most--keep--first--de--leddy zimmer; so!" I don't fully understand, but I feel that my chivalry is impugned. My confederates, too, round upon me; "Of course," they whisper, "had no idea the lady was an invalid." The brutes! I stutter an apology, and "climb down;" the windows are again hermetically sealed; and, as I slink away. I hear "_Viva_!" "_Hoch_!" and clinking glasses. Then ADOLF hurries up surreptitiously, and whispers, "Tell you vat, Sare: to-morrer you shoost dine on de terass; dere, plenty breeze, hein?" "Plenty breeze!"--and you pay three francs extra, and catch a cold. * * * * * SIGH NO MORE, LOTTIE. ["The disinfecting process has ruined all the dresses of Miss COLLINS."--_New York Telegram_.] Sigh no more, LOTTIE, sigh no more, Those gowns have gone for ever; You've cut some capers on that shore That you expected never; Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe To Tarara--boom--de nonny. Sing that vile ditty yet once more, And win almighty dollars From Yankees who have spoilt your store Of frocks, frills, cuffs and collars; The air will run in their heads like one O'clock, till it makes the same ache. While on you shines prosperity's sun. Your Tarara-boom-de hay make! * * * * * AT THE PATTENMAKERS' BANQUET.--At the Court Dinner of the Pattenmakers, held at the Metropole. the eulogies of the Worshipful Master, Sir AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS (now Master of Horse at Drury Lane), were plentiful, and he had a considerable amount of _patten_ on the back from all his guests. The great dish of the evening was _Partridge au Patten_, an English substitute for _Perdrix au chou_. * * * * * [Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.] OUR GRAND YOUNG GARDNER (HERBERT II.), IN HIS NEW CHARACTER OF THE MINISTER OF AGRICULTURE. (_With Song_)--"_Here's to the Health of the Parley Mow_!" * * * * * SONNET ON CHILLON. (_WHERE THE ELECTRIC LIGHT IS NOW INSTALLED IN THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD._)