Still, he's been a trifle pippy, and has looked a little chippy-- By the mighty Mississippi yes, Sir!--lately. Kinder moulty as to feathers, as though blizzards and bad weathers Of every blamed big sort had tried him greatly. Good Jee-rusulum! No wonder! for great snakes and buttered thunder! Our blasts have been fair busters for his pinions. In the words of Mister _Chollop_, all creation he can wallop,-- But tornaders _have_ been sweepin' his dominions! As to that _Mark Tapley's_ twaddle, why the Peacock ain't the model, _Nor_ the Bantam, _nor_ the Ostrich, I'd be pickin' For the finest fowl in Natur. Better dub him Alligator, A Whangdoodle, or a Cincinnati Chicken! Like the Ph[oe]nix he's immortal, and he soars to the Sun's portal, But--the Ph[oe]nix has sick spells, like lesser poultry. Wants fresh fixing up, I reckon, then the dawn once more he'll beckon, And sprint--from Memnon's statue to Fort Moultrie. BULL ain't an Eagle builder, but he makes a bully gilder, And I reckon, guess, and calc'late I'll jest try him. If I git from the old fellow a good coat of British Yellow-- A sort o' paint J. B. keeps always by him-- My Bird o' Freedom soaring, where the blizzards are a roaring, And the cloud-bursts are out-pouring, will jest flicker Real rollicking and regal, like a genu-ine Golden Eagle.-- _Wal!--you've fixed him real smart, JOHN! Let us liquor!_ * * * * * [Illustration: A LION IN THE PATH? OH DEAR NO! MERELY THE "_FIRST OPEN DAY_" AFTER A LONG FROST, AND A TOM-TIT HAS BEEN INCONSIDERATE ENOUGH TO FLY SUDDENLY OUT OF THE FENCE ON THE WAY TO COVERT!] * * * * * TRANCEMOGRIFICATION. Now that hypnotism is in the air, our conversation-books will have to be remodelled, as thus:-- Good morning, have you hibernated well? Yes, I have had a most successful trance this winter. Have you laid up at all? Only for a few days at Christmas, just to escape the bills. I had a delightfully unconscious Boxing Day. Well, you take my advice old man, and rent a private catacomb on the three-years' system. It comes much cheaper in the end, and you save all your coal and gas, to say nothing of clothes. We've started a Nirvana Club in our neighbourhood on the tontine principle. The last person who wakes gets the prize, unless the first who comes to makes off with it. It is capital, anyway, when you are taking a tour. Saves all the trouble of sight-seeing. You are just packed up and forwarded from place to place, with an automatic Kodak which records everything you visited. Try it! Will, some day. By Jove, I must be off! I've got to attend an anæsthetic concert, absolutely painless. And I've got a mesmeric dinner-party on to-night. All the bores will be put in glass-cases, and fed mechanically. Good-bye, then. Sleep well! * * * * * [Illustration: MEN OF THE HOUR. THE TURNCOCK