_Q._ What is the difference between laying down the Golden Rule (Do to others, &c.) and _acting_ upon it? _A._ One is a truism, the other an altruism. [Mr. Punch _advises the well-to-do readers to work this out practically among the poor this inclement season_. * * * * * THRIFT! (_To "_Un_splendid Paupers, in Workhouses and other places where they wish to enjoy themselves" on the cheap._) If you'd really learn and practice Thrift (As the frozen poor have needed lately) Get the great Elizabethan gift Of (_economically_) being "stately." (Mr. STEAD that dower will explain.) You must have a castle to begin with; Then give a _Bal Poudré_. You will gain! (Having nothing else to do your "tin" with.) The true way to save is--spend your money On a splendid pageant! Ain't it funny? SALISBURY for HODGE advised a circus, I a _Bal Poudré_ for every "Vorkuss"! * * * * * [Illustration: IMPROVEMENTS IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. IT IS PROPOSED TO ADD A REAL ICE RINK (WET OR SHINE, SUMMER OR WINTER) FOR THE USE OF MEMBERS.] * * * * * A VALEDICTION TO ST. VALENTINE. (_By an Old-fashioned Fellow._) Old friend of the lass and the lover, They say you are moribund now, Your rule--it was gentle--is over, Because--it is "vulgar" to vow, "No class" to be vassal to Cupid, "Bad form" to go wooing in verse! Well, Saint, your old rhymings _were_ stupid But new ones seem worse. Your hearts and your darts were as healthy As daffodils, larks or Spring lamb. But now we're so wise, and so wealthy, Simplicity strikes us as sham; Your empire was kind, if despotic, And blent of the smile and the tear. But now we're all "new" and "neurotic," And slaves to the queer. A Beardsley design, now, would shock you. And so would a verse by VERLAINE. Our Art, modern Art, would but mock you, Our poetry give you much pain. Oh Woman, New Woman, thou clamorest Loudly for right to revolt. But oh! from our latter-day Amorist S. V. would _bolt!_ 'Tis well, good Saint Valentine, truly, That you have got notice to quit, For, faith! you must find us unduly Devoted to cynical wit. The poor dear conventional passions, You voiced, with bird-pipings, in Spring, Are not "up to date." Love's new fashions _You_ never could sing! Good gracious! LE GALLIENNE'S lyrics, And DAVIDSON'S Lavender-scent, Would certainly give you hysterics. Song now, just like wine, must _ferment_. The dewdroppy old dithyrambics You loved, in our day don't go down. Our maidens like brisk galliambics On which you would frown.