JACKSON, Junior, asked why, if the tax on firearms was intended to prevent a chap from carrying a gun, it wasn't charged just the same upon pistols? You couldn't look into a daily paper hardly without seeing an account of a murder committed, or somebody or other shot, or shooting himself by accident, with a revolver, or the revolver going off on its own accord, and killing its owner or someone else. Cads and roughs almost all of them carried revolvers, and so it was that burglars went about shooting policemen. If every revolver had to be loaded with a licence, or the firearm-duty were enforced for all firearms, it would save no end of lives. But if that didn't signify, and everybody was to be free to carry a revolver, what use was there in what you might call fining a fellow for leave to carry a gun? The CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER said that his young friends appeared to him to have made out a very good case, not so much for the repeal of the gun-duty as for its extension, if necessary, or at any rate its enforcement, as regarded revolvers, upon which the existing duty might require to be increased to an amount which would effectually limit the possession of those dangerous weapons. Meantime he would consult his colleagues, who, he was assured, would give this question their most serious consideration. The young gentlemen then gave three groans for the CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER, and bolted. * * * * * THE MARBLE ARCH. (_A Song for the Season._) "Can nothing be done for the Marble Arch?...London soot-flakes have dealt cruelly with a surface admirably calculated to receive them."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ AIR--"_I Dreamt that I Dwelt in Marble Halls._" I DREAMT that I gazed at the Marble Arch, King Fog and King Coal at my side, The soot of November, the dust-storms of March Had made it a sight to deride. I said all the foreigners think, I'll be bound, To our City this thing is a shame; But I guess 'twill be found, when next Season comes round, That its state is much the same. It _does_ want a wash, there's no doubt about that, For the marble's a dull, dirty brown; That is, where it isn't as black as your hat-- _Can't_ they clean it while Swelldom's from Town? Marble? Deft TADEMA, I will be bound, Would say 'tis not worthy the name; But I'd wager a pound, when next Season comes round, We shall find it still the same. * * * * * EVICTION. A WOFUL BALLAD OF WIMBLEDON. AIR--"_The British Grenadier._" [Illustration: _Illustrious President._ "NOW, MY LAD, SORRY TO INCONVENIENCE YOU, BUT--HEM--HA--YOU MUST REALLY GO--SOMEWHERE ELSE!"] SOME prate of patriotism, and some of cheap defence, But to the high official mind that's all absurd pretence; For of all the joys of snubbing, there's none to it _so_ dear, As to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!