Mr. PUNCH looked around. The Acidalian roses and myrtles, the purple lotos and the snowy thorn, the yellow pod-flowers and the waving palms, the vermeil apples and the primrosed banks, of CAMOENS' somewhat zone-confounding vision, had indeed vanished, and in their stead seemed to wave snowy _serviettes_, to flow champagne-streams, to glitter goblets, and to glow orchid-laden _epergnes_. "Humph!" said the Sage. "The prose of the _Restaurateur_--which by the way sounds as if I were alluding to the literature of the Restauration,--hath insensibly superseded the poesy of the peerless Portuguese. Well, Gentlemen, in vain may 'sterner Albion' glory in the profusion of wealth and the pomp of 'glad repast,' unless also she breeds heroes to adventure and poets to celebrate. As you sang, my CAMOENS-- "'The King or hero to the Muse unjust, Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.' "For the present, STANLEY'S arm and Mr. PUNCH'S pen suffice to save the State from such abasement. But let our timid Premiers and our temporising Press remember the glories of GAMA and CAMOENS, and the fate of ungrateful and indolent Lusitania!" "The Pen of Mr. PUNCH!" cried CAMOENS. "Ah, long have the valiant VASCO and myself desired to peruse its sparkling and patriotic outpourings.". "And you, my STANLEY," proceeded Mr. PUNCH, "said to the banqueting Fishmongers, 'I am an omnivorous reader whenever an opportunity presents itself.' It presents itself here and now. Take, Illustrious Trio, the greatest gift that even PUNCH can bestow upon you, to wit his "Ninety-Eighth Volume!" [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE. FOURTH ENTRY. Have for a considerable time past been "eating dinners," preparatory to being "called" to the Bar. Understand now what people mean when they talk of a "_Digest_ of the Law." Find myself (on dining for the first time this Term) in a mess with a highly-intelligent native of India, another man up from Oxford, and an African law-student. Latter black and curly, but good-natured. Says there is a great demand for English-made barristers on the Gambia, and he's going to supply the demand. Have wild and momentary idea of going to the Gambia myself. "Why," I ask this enterprising negro, "why don't English barristers--white ones, I mean--go and practise there?" Feel that reference to colour is not felicitous; still, difficult to express the idea otherwise. African doesn't mind. Shows all his teeth in a broad grin, and says, "Inglis men die, die like flies, on the Gambia."