"No man ever earned his spurs better than the man who has been spurring railways into increased activity for so many years," said _Mr. Punch_, with a beautiful bow. "I have not called you from the House at an unfortunate time, I trust, Sir," said the other. "Not that you can ever be spared, but--" "WILLIAM GLADSTONE is quite up to his work," replied the great patriot. "He has but a couple of dozen of the Brigade in hand at present, and he is tossing up one after the other, cup-and-ball fashion, cupping or spiking him to taste, with the precision of a RAMO SAMEE. I can leave WILLIAM. Let us go." "You will take care that no other passenger is put into _Mr. Punch's coupé_, guard," said the gentleman, as the Euston whistle sounded. "No masculine passenger, please tell him, Mr. RONEY," said _Mr. Punch_, facetiously. "Good night." "This Irish journey is capitally done, certainly," said _Mr. Punch_, as, thirteen hours later, he found himself over his coffee and prawns in Sackville Street, on a radiant morning, and all the bright eyes of Dublin sparkling round the door of his hotel, eagerly glancing towards his balcony. _Mr. Punch_ rushed forth, _serviette_ in hand. His large heart beat high at the sight of so much loveliness, and at the sound of those angel-voices, rising into musical cheering. "Bless you, my darlings!" _Mr. Punch_ could say no more, but finished his prawns, and, throwing his manly form upon a jaunting car, he dashed over the bridge, and to Merrion Square. "An' it's for luck I'll be takin' your honour's sixpence, and not for the dirthy money," said the excited driver, as he rattled round the corner, and into the Square, and the gigantic cylinders of the EXHIBITION burst upon _Mr. Punch's_ gaze.