The above is taken from the _Times_. What is the Curate expected to undertake for £20 a year and his victuals? The cure of Soles--in the sense of scraping them, perhaps--with the additional duty of polishing upper leathers. To answer the bell that rings for prayers, peradventure--and also that which rings for hot water. We should like to know whether the employer of such a Curate returns him in his Assessed Tax Paper, with a farther entry on his account under the head of Hair Powder. * * * * * POLITICAL CAPITAL.--The only capital most Irish Members have, and even that is at a terrible discount. * * * * * [Illustration: SEVERE, BUT FLATTERING. Reflective Cabman. "_Vell, it all 'us was so! The genteeler the Party, the wosser the Fare!_"] * * * * * A CITY WITHOUT SMOKE! That a city can exist without Smoke, we beg to refer our readers for the proof of such a possibility to MR. BURFORD'S Panorama in Leicester Square. There they will be able to admire, in all its beauty and undefiled cleanliness, the lovely City of Mexico. You are standing on the top of the Grand Cathedral, and, look in all directions as you will, you cannot see the smallest wreath of smoke curling about the place. Now, we should like to see the curl taken out of London in a similar manner. It may not look, perhaps, so grand, so showy and glittering as Mexico, but still it may, in its new aspect, appear sufficiently tempting to induce Mr. BURFORD to select it as the subject of some future Panorama. The probability is, we should not know it again as the same city, in which we are now, like so many living chimneys, inhaling and exhaling smoke all day long. The new Zealander, when he does view the ruins of our sooty metropolis from London Bridge, would be able to see them at all events to greater advantage then than he would if he were to take his private view from one of the parapets to-morrow. For our own selves, we are most anxious to see how London would look without smoke--for, in the name of darkness, it looks ugly enough with it. * * * * * "THE GREAT GLOBE ITSELF." MR. ALBERT SMITH alters his song of "_Galignani's Messenger_" to the current events of the day. MR. WYLD will have to follow his example, and keep a staff of colourmen constantly at work on his Model. Poland is gone! Turkey threatened! and in the _Times_ of Saturday, we find-- "Last week of Hindostan!" And "Mont Blanc will close this Evening!" * * * * * ANOTHER INSULT FROM THE SAXON. (_From "The Nation._")