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An omission at the Guildhall luncheon.—On the occasion of the Civic Banquet to the German Emperor, an Alderman, distinguished for his courtesy to strangers, and his appreciation of good dishes, especially of anything at all spicy, wished to know why, as a compliment to their Imperial guest, they had omitted “pickelhaubes” from the bill of fare? He had understood, from well-informed friends, that the Emperor seldom went anywhere without some “pickelhaubes,” whatever they might be, as he himself, the worthy Alderman, had never had the opportunity of tasting one.
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[Illustration: The Red Queen and the white; or, Alice in Thunderland.]
* * * * *
Jolly July.
The storm of rain comes swirling
down,
Our helpless flow’rets droop and die;
The thunder crashes o’er the town—
In wet July.
Our cricket-match is spoilt, the
stumps
We draw beneath a drenching sky;
Then homeward wend in doleful dumps—
In wet July.
The lawn’s a lake, whereon
there float
The balls that erst would o’er it fly;
We can’t play tennis from a boat,
In wet July.
Our garden-party’s ruined quite,
Of invitations friends fight shy;
They wisely shun the sloppy sight
In wet July.
Take that old aneroid away,
A new barometer we’ll try;
With hope for haply one fine day—
In wet July.
* * * * *
Beating the Record.—Mrs. MALAPROP’s “Cerberus, as three single gentlemen rolled into one,” was “not in it” last week with H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, who, in the course of the Royal Entertainments given to our Imperial Cousin-German, appeared as “a host of illustrious personages.” An admirable performance.
* * * * *
A Nursery Echo from Carlow.
Parnell put the Kettle on,
Tim Healy came it
rather strong,
Hammond was the people’s man,
And
he’s now M.P.
* * * * *
[Illustration: In desperate Straits.