[Illustration:  The Porcelain Vase in question.]

["A valuable porcelain vase having been stolen from Versailles Palace, a band of English tourists who were visiting the place have been searched by the police; but nothing was found upon them, and they have been liberated.”—­St. James’s Gazette, Sept. 17.]

* * * * *

HOLIDAY FARE IN CORNWALL.

  A roll on the billow,
    A Loaf by the shore,
  A Fig for fashion,
    And Cream galore!

* * * * *

“WHAT’S IN A NAME?”

Mr. AUGUSTIN DALY says, “I have never found, as CHATTERTON did, that SHAKSPEARE spelt Ruin.”  Perhaps he has been more inclined to think that SHAKSPEARE spelt REHAN, eh?

* * * * *

[Illustration:  TRULY CONSCIENTIOUS.

Toyshopman.  “BEG PARDON, MISS, BUT HERE’S YOUR CHANGE, WHICH YOU’D FORGOTTEN—­ONE-AND-NINEPENCE!”

Little Maid.  “OH, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!  BUT WE’RE NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE MONEY FROM ANYBODY BUT GRANDPAPA!”]

* * * * *

TURNING THE TABLES;

OR, THE BEAR AS LEADER.

["The French believed so implicitly in Russian friendship, even when there was nothing whatever to indicate its existence, that they may be excused for rating at more than they are worth expressions of goodwill, which, after all, are as ambiguous as they are tardy....  The success of a Russian Loan is not dearly purchased by a little effusion, which, after all, commits Russia to nothing.  French sentiment is always worth cultivating in that way, because, unlike the British variety, it has a distinct influence upon investments.”—­Daily Paper.]

  “But just fancy the confusion
  When a bear has burst his fetters!”

HEINE’s Atta Troll.

AIR—­“BLOUDIE JACKE.”

Oh! why does your eye gleam so bright? 
Russian Bear? 
Oh! why does your eye gleam so bright? 
You’ve broken your fetters.  Like some of your betters,
Your freedom moves some with affright. 
All right? 
Well, that’s reassuring,—­oh! quite!

Yes, your optic gleams piggishly bright,
Russian Bear;
It gleams with true ursine delight. 
’Tis done—­France is won, And ’tis capital fun
To hold it in shackles, which, slight—­
Ho! ho!—­
Yet fit so remarkably tight.

The chains may feel light as a thread,
Russian Bear! 
As light and as slight as a thread;
But though light be the chain.  Will his might and his main
Again rend it in twain?  Fear is fled! 
Quite fled! 
And old animosity dead. 
Haw! haw!

Nay, laugh not I pray you so loud,
Russian Bear! 
Oh! laugh not so loud and so clear! 
Though sly is your smile The heart to beguile,
Bruin’s chuckle is horrid to hear,
O dear! 
And makes quidnuncs quake and feel queer.