There are too many ways, don't you think, so? of getting "out"; bowlings, and catches, And stumpings, and--what's l.b.w.? Always see that in these matches-- Oh! there is Prince CHRISTIAN! I _wish_ that the lads had less powerful voices, This shouting must hurt Harrow's feelings, and if she _has_ fewer "old choices" That isn't _her_ fault, I suppose, and they ought to allow her more batters. That would harrow poor Harrow much more? Well, I really _can't_ fathom such matters. Ah! RAPHAEL seems a sweet name; and he's "out for a duck" too; how horrid! Why, even poor GOSLING made _four_. Oh, dear me, 'tis tremendously torrid! And, how they _can_ run so----There, listen to ISABEL SMYTHE, _do_ just listen. She's coached up in Cricketing slang; she has "crammed" for it. How her eyes glisten! "Oh! bowled, Sir, indeed! Caught, Sir, caught!"--And she rhymes "bowled" to "howled." Most disgusting! Last over? Hope Harrow will pull up to-morrow. Of course they are trusting In mighty M'LAREN again. But oh, if their colours they'd vary! Unless you've a brother, you know, or a lover like MILDRED and MARY. In one team or other, it's hard to get up an emotion that's "humming," For dark blue and light are so like, Sir, and neither is _very_ becoming. * * * * * New Room Notes, National Gallery. "_The Three Graces_," now well placed, had been previously "skied." But didn't this show that Sir JOSHUA'S work ranked uncommonly high in the opinion of the former hangers? It is not surprising that among Sir ROBERT PEEL'S Collection there should have been several charming Constables. These Pictures ought to be called and known as "Peelers." * * * * * SONGS AT STAMBOUL. (_Sung by Sir H-nry Dr-mm-nd W-lff._) I.--L'ADIEU À LA PORTE. AIR--"_The Good-bye at the Door._" OF all the memories of the past That long will haunt my dreams, This scene upon my soul will cast The brightest, gladdest beams. I've really had the jolliest spree, Though S-L-SB-RY cuts it short; Memory will oft recall to me The Good-bye to the Porte. My stay out here may have estranged The closest friends I knew; R-ND-LPH, I think, seems rather changed; Will B-LF-R prove more true? No happy hours again for me In this sweet clime to sport! I cannot contemplate with glee This Good-bye to the Porte. II.-GOOD-BYE, SWEET PORTE, GOOD-BYE! AIR--"_Good-bye, Sweetheart, good-bye!_" MY bright hopes fade, my heart is breaking (I feel inclined to cuss our Chief), And I from thee my leave am taking, After a stay too brief, too brief. How sinks my heart with strange alarms! An angry tear obscures my eye. Stamboul, they drive me from thy charms; Good-bye, sweet Porte, good-bye!