NEWMAN, farewell!  Myriads whose spirits spurn
    The limitations thou didst love so well,
    Who never knew the shades of Oriel,
  Or felt their quickened spirits pulse and burn
    Beneath that eye’s regard, that voice’s spell,—­
  Myriads, world-scattered and creed-sundered, turn
    In thought to that hushed chamber’s chastened gloom. 
    In all great hearts there is abundant room
  For memories of greatness, and high pride
  In what sects cannot kill nor seas divide. 
  The Light hath led thee, on through honoured days
  And lengthened, through wild gusts of blame and praise,
    Through doubt, and severing change, and poignant pain,
    Warfare that strains the breast and racks the brain,
  At last to haven!  Now no English heart
  Will willingly forego unfeigned part
    In honouring thee, true master of our tongue,
    On whose word, writ or spoken, ever hung
  All English ears which knew that tongue’s best charm. 
  Not as great Cardinal such hearts most warm
    To one above all office and all state,
    Serenely wise, magnanimously great;
  Not as the pride of Oriel, or the star
  Of this host or of that in creed’s hot war,
    But as the noble spirit, stately, sweet,
    Ardent for good without fanatic heat,
  Gentle of soul, though greatly militant,
  Saintly, yet with no touch of cloistral cant;
    Him England honours, and so bends to-day
    In reverent grief o’er NEWMAN’s glorious clay.

* * * * *

FEE VERY SIMPLE.

“In a recent case of brigandage, people of all sorts and classes were implicated, while one of the leading barristers was imprisoned on suspicion.”—­Report of Consul Stigano, of Palermo.

    SCENE—­Chambers of Mr. E.S.  TOPPEL, Q.C., in the Inner
    Temple.  Mr. TOPPEL discovered in consultation with a
    Chancery Barrister, two Starving Juniors, and sixteen
    Masked Ruffians armed to the teeth.

Mr. Toppel.  Now that we have the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Chief Justice, and the President of the Divorce Division, securely locked up together in the attic, and gagged, we may, I think, congratulate ourselves on the success of our proceedings so far!  We are, I am sure, quite agreed as to there having been no other course open to us than to imitate our Sicilian brethren of the robe, and take to a little mild brigandage, considering the awful decay of legal business and our own destitute condition. (Sympathetic cries of Hear, hear! from the Chancery Barrister, and the two Starving Juniors.) I have no doubt that a few hours spent in our attic will induce the High Legal Dignitaries I have mentioned (laughter) to pay up the modest ransom we demand, and to take the additional pledge of secresy.  Meanwhile, I propose that these sixteen excellent gentlemen should re-enter the private Pirate Bus’ which is waiting down-stairs, and see whether the Master of the Rolls could not be—­er—­“detained in transitu” (more laughter) while proceeding to his Court.  It would be best, perhaps, as Lord ESHER belongs to the Equity side, for our friend here of the Chancery Bar to accommodate him in his Chambers.