One of the daily journals constantly warns the present age against its tendency to succumb to the Lawyers, and "the legal mind." But the mammas and nurses of England are beforehand with the journalist. Nearly the first lesson and warning a child receives is, "Bar, Bar--Black Sheep." * * * * * AN ACHING VOID.--A hollow tooth. * * * * * [Illustration: THE BEAR AND THE BEES.--A NEW VERSION OF AN OLD STORY.] * * * * * THE RE-CHRISTENING OF THE BOSPHORUS. Not the less apart for ever, Europe's coast, and Asia's shore, Though two continents to sever, Scarce a mile of sea doth roar; Though, whene'er that ocean-music Sinks upon the summer air. You may near Sultanieh's bulbuls Answering those of Buyukdère. To that belt of rolling water, In the early Grecian age, Came the Argive king's fair daughter Fleeing JUNO'S jealous rage. ZEUS had wrought the maid dishonour; And to hide her from his spouse, Working foul defeature on her, Changed her fair form to a cow's. But the lynx-eyed wife discovering What the heifer's form concealed, As a gad-fly quickly hovering, Stung her rival from the field; Driving on that hapless maiden-- Mad with pain and flecked with gore-- Till she staggered, sorrow-laden, To the far Propontid shore. Pausing there, perforce, to breathe her, Faint, and frenzied, and foredone, She beheld the sea beneath her Basking lucid in the sun. In she dashed--the grateful chillness Brought assuagement to her pain, Gave her throbbing pulses stillness, Calmed the fever of her brain. JUNO then her chase arrested, And the gad-fly stung no more; On swam IO, unmolested, Till she reached the Asian shore, Hence that strait, the poets tell us, Took the name it bears till now, "Bosporus," in tongue of Hellas, Meaning "Passage of the Cow." Age on age has since passed over Those wild waters in their flow-- They have seen the Carian rover, Seeking wealth with sling and bow-- Seen the sun in his meridian Glinted back from countless arms, When to Greece the turbaned Median Led his hosts, like locust-swarms. For the lordship of that region Every race hath drawn the sword-- Grecian phalanx, Roman legion, Norse Vikinger, Vandal horde. Still, through all, that strait retaineth Its old name in Hellas' song; "Bosporus" it still remaineth, "Bosporus" it shall be long. But from this our day the meaning Of the word we cast anew, Now that Russia's Czar o'erweening, His war-vultures doth unmew. Onward like a base marauder Threatening force, when foiled in sleight, He hath crossed the Turkish border In contempt of law and right.