In adopting the decimal coinage, it would be desirable to alter as little as possible the existing nomenclature of the QUEEN'S cash. The idea of the decimal may be expressed by the slightest variation of a term in vernacular use to denote a certain piece of money. By the change of a letter in the word "Tanner," the sixpence might, nominally, be retained to the great bulk of the people; whilst, by the conversion alluded to, namely, into "Tenner," the new elements of its constitution would be at the same time signified. The novel word "Mil," should be rejected; and for it might be substituted the similarly sounding but more familiar name of "Bill," the adoption of which may be recommended on the ground of analogy, as the shilling has been already long stamped with the popular diminutive of "Bob." If the somewhat fanciful expression "Mil," or "Mill," is employed, the principle of its derivation should be consistently carried out. The words "Winder," "Bender," "Twister," "Topper," and "Stunner," might be borrowed to designate money, which itself should change its present correct appellation for the more sportive and appropriate title of Blunt. The mutation of "Florin" into "Floorer" would be obviously called for, and the crown piece might be neatly styled a "Punisher," as being the well-known amount of the fine for inebriety. On all the coins emanating from the pugilistic mint, it would be requisite that the Lion and the Unicorn should be fighting; and whilst V. R. figured on one side of them, P. R. should be stamped on the other, that it might in every respect be characterised by the true ring. * * * * * PUNCH'S POTATO PROPHECY. The reader, who minds his _Punch_, of course remembers what _Punch_ prophesied in 1847 on the Irish potato rot. From that very decay, _Punch_ predicted regeneration. "The butcher, the baker, The candle-stick maker, All jumped out of a rotten potato." So runs the childish doggrel; but _Punch_ heard in that shambling verse a musical promise; and hearing, foretold the coming time when, from the very blight that smote the people of Ireland through Ireland's potatos, there should be peace and plenty for Ireland regenerate. And is it not so? Answer with one of your wildest roars, oh, Lion of Judah! Is it not so--reply and tenderly, cooingly, oh Dove of Galway! * * * * * DISRAELI'S COAT AND BADGE. Was a smarter old feller than I be e'er seen In these bright brass buttons--this new quoat of green? Why is it I'm rigged out so fine as this here? Why for sarvin' one master for full thirty year. But wherefore should I be so proud o' my clothes, And strut in 'em so, stickin' up my old nose? Do I think the prize-suit such an honour to wear? Shoo! it baint for the raiment alone as I care.