P.S.—­Just lost all I had.  Not so sure that my optimist view is not open to rectification!

* * * * *

BULL AND BULLION.

(ON GOLD, AFTER GOLDSMITH.)

  When British Commerce stoops to folly,
    And finds too late that Bonds betray,
  What charm can soothe her melancholy,
    And the big rush for bullion stay?

  To save herself from shameful ruin
    (Ask Monsieur LAUR!) her only chance
  Lies—­full revenge for Waterloo!—­in
    Big borrowings from generous France.

* * * * *

Mr. Punch Among the Planets is the title of Mr. Punch’s Christmas Number, vice Almanack superseded.  Ask for this, and “see that you get it”!

* * * * *

VOX STELLARUM.—­The New Comet, November 19, Boston, U.S., suddenly appeared, and was heard to exclaim, “But, soft!  I am observed!”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE.—­A DIOCESAN CONFERENCE.

“LOOK ‘ERE, BILL!  BLEST IF THESE BEAN’T A LOT O’ PARSONS ON STRIKE!”]

* * * * *

“SEPARATISTS.”

(FRAGMENTS OF A MODERN “MARMION.")

“But DOUGLAS round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:—­ * * * * * ’The hand of DOUGLAS is his own, And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as MARMION clasp.’” * * * * *

  “The hand of such as MARMION!” Ay! 
  Great Singer of the knightly lay,
    Thy tale of Flodden field
  Is darkened by unknightly stain. 
  That slackened arm and burdened brain
  Of him found low among the slain,
    Constrained at last to yield
  To a mere “base marauder’s lance;”
  He, firm of front and cold of glance,
  The dark, the dauntless MARMION.—­
  The days of chivalry are gone,
  Dispraisers of the present say,
  Yet men arm still for party fray
    As fierce as foray old;
  And mail is donned, and steel is drawn,
  And champions challenging at dawn
    Ere night lie still and cold. 
  Two champions here ’midst loud applause,
  Have led the lists in a joint cause
    On many a tourney morn,
  Have fought to vanward in the field
  Full many an hour, and, sternly steeled,
    One banner forward borne. 
  And now—­ah, well, as DOUGLAS old
  On MARMION looked sternly cold,
    So looks this Chieftain grey
  On his old comrade, though the fight
  Is forward now, and many a knight
    Is arming for the fray. 
  As “the demeanour changed and cold
  Of DOUGLAS fretted MARMION bold,”
  Has this old greyhaired Chieftain’s chill
  Fretted that man of icy will? 
    Who knows—­or cares to know? 
  At least he “has to learn ere long
  That constant mind, and hate of wrong”