Yes, I own it was rather a blow When they brought out the merciless list, For you primed up the Pater, I know, With such rubbish, and just _would_ insist The Exam. was as hard as could be. Ah! you painted it all at the worst, It was hard lines on you, THOMAS, not to get through, While the "crock" of a MAUD got a first. Still, why did you rush into print With your torrent of bitter complaint? To do so without the least hint, Well, brotherly, dear, it quite _ain't_. 'Twere wiser and better by far To have laid all the blame on a tooth, For whatever's the use of a lovely excuse If not in concealing the truth? So bottle your anger, dear boy, Forget how to shuffle and shirk, Find intelligent purpose and joy In a season of honest hard work. You'll pass when you go in again, And eclipse in the passing poor me; For a girl, though she can beat the whole tribe of Man, Isn't fit, TOM, to have a degree! * * * * * THE SONG OF THE SESSION. AIR--"_What shall he have that kill'd the Deer?_" What must he have who'd kill the Bill? A leathern skin, and a stubborn will. Brummagem's his home. Take then no shame to name his name! Bill-slaughtering is his little game. He'd be its death--he swore it, As limb from limb he tore it-- The Bill, the Bill, the lusty Bill! Is it a thing Brum JOE _can_ kill? * * * * * A TESTIMONIAL MANQUÉ. (A SKETCH FROM THE SUBURBS.) THE ARGUMENT--Mr. HOTSPUR PORPENTINE, _a distinguished resident in the rising suburb of Jerrymere, has recently been awarded fourteen days' imprisonment, without the option of a fine, for assaulting a ticket-collector, who had offered him the indignity of requiring him to show his season-ticket at the barrier. The scene is a Second-Class Compartment, in which four of_ Mr. PORPENTINE'S _neighbours are discussing the affair during their return from the City_. _Mr. Cockcroft (warmly)._ I say, Sir--and I'm sure all here will bear me out--that such a sentence was a scandalous abuse of justice. As a near neighbour, and an intimate friend of PORPENTINE'S, I don't 'esitate to assert that he has done nothing whatever to forfeit our esteem. He's a quick-tempered man, as we're all aware, and to be asked by some meddlesome official to show his season, after travelling on the line constantly for years, and leaving it at home that morning--why--I don't blame him if he _did_ use his umbrella! _Mr. Balch. (sympathetically)._ Nor I. PORPENTINE'S a man I've always had a very 'igh respect for ever since I came into this neighbourhood. I've always found him a good feller, and a good neighbour. _Mr. Filkins (deferentially)._ I can't claim to be as intimate with him as some here; but, if it isn't putting myself too far forward to say so, I very cordially beg to say ditto to those sentiments.