tables at Westminster and the benches of Gray’s Inn.  But there, that is many years ago, and all I can say now is, “Heave away, boys,” and “Three cheers for the Don, the Keys, and the Donkey.”  I was the Don, the keys were supplied to those who paid for them, and the donkeys could defend themselves.  The Armada was not a success, and after this frank avowal, it seems to me that Mr. FROUDE need render no further explanation.  Surely the story of the Spanish Invasion is copyright.  And if it is, Mr. FROUDE has no right to tamper with my work, the more especially as it is immediately appropriated by that model of modern journalism the Review of Reviews.

* * * * *

PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTION.—­We have five senses.  That’s quite enough.  If we had a sixth sense, what a new sense it would be!

* * * * *

“IN CELLAR DEEP.”

    (Latest Up-to-Date Version of a celebrated Bacchanalian ditty, as
    it might be revised by Dr. Mortimer Granville and Mr. James
    Payn.)

    ["No one drinks alcoholic liquor (unless it be beer) to quench
    thirst.”—­JAMES PAYN.]

    In Cellar deep I sit and steep
    My soul in GRANVILLE’S logic. 
  Companions mine, sound ale, good wine—­
    That foils Teetotal dodge—­hic! 
  With solemn pate our sages prate,
  The Pump-slaves neatly pinking. 
  He’s proved an ass, whose days don’t pass
      In drinking, drinking, drinking!

  In water pure there’s danger sure,
    All fizzle-pop’s deceiving;
  And ginger-beer must make you queer
    (If GRANVILLE you’re believing). 
  Safe, on the whole, is Alcohol;
    It saves man’s strength from sinking. 
  I injure none, and have good f—­fun. 
      Whilst drinking, drinking, drinking!

  Hic!  Hic!  Hooray!!  New reasons gay
    For drink from doctors borrow! 
  The last (not first) is simple thirst,
    Thatsh true—­to LAWSON’S sorrow! 
  Good Templarsh fain would “physic PAYN,”
    And GRANVILLE squelch like winking;
  But all the same, true Wisdom’s—­hic—­game
      Is drinking, drinking, drinking!

[Left playing it.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH’S NAVAL NOVEL.

[Mr. Punch has observed with much gratification the success of various brochures professing to give, under the disguise of retrospect, a prophetic but accurate account of the naval battle of the immediate future. Mr. Punch has read them carefully over and over again.  For some time he has been living, so to speak, in the midst of magnificent iron-clad fleets.  In vain have torpedoes been launched on their occasionally death-dealing mission against him, in vain have immense shells exploded in his immediate neighbourhood.  Nothing, not even the ramming of one whole squadron