* * * * *

TOMMY ATKINS’S HARD LOT.

“TOMMY ATKINS,” writing modestly enough to the Daily Chronicle of the 6th February, complains that the coal supplied by the Authorities for barrack-rooms, is so limited in quantity that “during the winter this, as a rule, only lasts about two days” in the week, and TOMMY and his comrades have to “club-up” to supply the deficiency out of their own microscopical pay.  “In fact” (says T.A.) “I have been in barrack-rooms where the men have had no fires after the first two days of the week.” If this be so, Mr. Punch agrees with TOMMY in saying, “Surely this ought not to be!” TOMMY ATKINS may reasonably be expected to “stand fire” at any season, but not the absence of it in such wintry weather as we have had recently!

  If this is poor TOMMY ATKINS’s lot,
  As TOMMY might say, It is all Tommy-rot!

* * * * *

COLUMBIA ON HER SPARROW.

(WITH APOLOGIES TO WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT.)

    ["The Americans have had enough of the Sparrow (Passer
    domesticus), and the mildest epithet reserved for him seems
    to be that of ‘pest.’”—­Daily Chronicle.]

  Tell me not of joy,—­a hum! 
  Now the British Sparrow’s come. 
          Sent first was he
          Across the sea,
  Advisers kind did flatter me,
     When he winged way o’er Yankee soil,
     My caterpillar swarms he’d spoil;
  And oh, how pleasant that would be!

He would catch a grub, and then
It would never feed again. 
My fields he’d skip,
And peck, and nip,
And on the caterpillars feed;
And nought should crawl, or hop, or run
When he his hearty meal had done. 
Alas! it was a sell, indeed!

O’er my fields he makes his flight,
In numbers almost infinite;
A plague, alas! 
That doth surpass
The swarming caterpillar crew. 
What I did I much regret;
Passer is multiplying yet;
Check him I can’t.  What shall I do?

  The British Sparrow won’t depart,
  His feathered legions break my heart. 
          Would he away
          I would not, nay! 
  About mere caterpillars fuss. 
     Patience with grubs and moths were mine,
     Would he but pass across the brine.
  I call Passer Domestic Cuss!

* * * * *

“HERE WE HARE AGAIN!”—­There are two Johnnies on the stage.  JOHNNY Senior being J.L.  TOOLE (now on his way home from New Zealand), and JOHNNY Junior, JOHN HARE, both immensely popular as comedians, and both in high favour with our most illustrious and judicious Patron of the Drama, H.R.H. the Prince of WALES.  It is gratifying to learn that, after the performance of A Pair of Spectacles at Sandringham, the Prince presented the Junior of these two Johnnies with a silver cigar-box.  In the right-hand corner of the lid is engraved a hare looking through a pair of spectacles, and inside is a dedication to JOHN HARE from ALBERT EDWARD.  “Pretty compliment this,” as Sir WILL SOMERS, the Court Jester, might have said,—­“to JOHNNY HARE from the Hare Apparent.”