[Left chortling, but still “on duty."

* * * * *

“NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE”—­ SUCCESSION?

“Supply—­Army Estimates.”

  General FRASER—­not a phraser clearly—­
  Military grumbling vents sincerely;
  House won’t listen, and the cruel Times
  Summarised his tale of woes and crimes,
  As—­great CAESAR!—­“a few observations.” 
  TANNER, always great on such occasions,
  Intimates that it is his impression
  Soldiers are “succeeding in succession”
  In the interest of more Expense. 
  Well, “economists” make stir immense,
  But in spite of most Draconic manner,
  Hardly ever seem to save—­a “tanner.” 
  So that one is prone to think indeed,
  In succession they do not—­“succeed!”

* * * * *

“A LEGGE UP.”—­The new Bishop of LICHFIELD.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “THE DILEMMA.”

(NEW ADAPTATION OF AN OLD IRISH STORY.)

H-RC-RT.  “HILLO, JOE!  I’VE GOT HIM!”

CH-MB-RL-N.  “ALL RIGHT; BRING HIM ALONG THEN!”

H-RC-RT.  “BUT HE WON’T COME!”

CH-MB-RL-N.  “THEN LEAVE HIM, AND COME AWAY!”

H-RC-RT.  “BUT HE WON’T LET ME!!!”]

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

DILATORY DINNERS.

SCENE—­The Grounds of a certain Exhibition.  On this particular evening, there has been a slight hitch in the culinary arrangements, and the relations between the Chef and the Waiters are apparently strained.  Enter an Egotistic Amphitryon, followed by a meek and youthful Guest.

The Egotistic Amphitryon (concluding an harangue).  Well, all I’ve got to say is I’ve been here half-an-hour—­(with a bitter sense of the anomaly of the situation)—­waiting about for You!! (They seat themselves at one of the little tables under the verandah.) Oh, you’re going to sit that side, are you?  It’s all the same to me, except that there’s a confounded draught here which—­well, you’re young, and these things don’t affect you—­or oughtn’t to. (They exchange sides.) We shall have to hurry our dinner now, if we mean to hear anything of the music.  That was the reason I expressly told you seven sharp.  Here, Waiter! (Waiter presents a carte, and stands by with a proud humility.) Now, what are you going to have? (To Guest.) You don’t mind?  I hate to hear a man say he doesn’t care what he eats—­he ought to care, he must care.  What do you say to this—­“Potage Bisque d’ecrivisses; Saumon Sauce Hollandaise; Brimborions de veau farcis a l’imprevu; Ducklings and green peas; New Potatoes; Salad”?  Simple and, ah, satisfying. (To Waiter.) Let us have that as sharp as you can; do you hear?

[Illustration]