Business done.—­None.

* * * * *

AN INFLUENZA SONG.

AIR—­“OH, WE’RE ALL NODDIN’.”

      Oh, we’ve none coddlin’,
        Cod, cod, coddlin’;
      Oh, we’ve none coddlin’. 
        At our house at home!

  Ha!—­my Father has a cough—­
    Now—­my Mother has a wheeze;
  What!! my Brother has a pain
    In forehead, arms, chest, back and knees. 
        So—­we’ve three coddlin’, &c.

  How my eldest Sister aches
    From her forehead to her toes! 
  And my second Brother’s eyes
    Are weeping either side his nose. 
        So—­we’ve five coddlin’, &c.

  There’s my eldest Brother down
    With a pain all round his head,
  Ah!  I’m the only one who’s up—­
    Oh!...  Oh!...  I’ll go to bed! 
        So—­we’re all coddlin’, &c.

  As the Doctor orders Port,
    Orders Burgundy, Champagne,
  Good living and good drinking,
    Why we none of us complain,
        While we’re—­all coddlin’,
          Cod, cod, coddlin’,
        While we’re all coddlin’
          At our house at home!

* * * * *

BY A SMALL WESTERN.—­Orientals take off their shoes on entering a Mosque.  We remove our hats on entering a Church.  Both symbolical; one leaves his understanding outside; the other enters with a clear head.

* * * * *

HORACE IN LONDON.

TO THE COUNTY COUNCIL. (AD REMPUBLICAM.)

[Illustration]

  New vessel, now returning ship
  From this thy tried and trial trip,
    Refit in dock awhile:  I fear
    Your ballast looks a trifle queer.

  Your rigging ("rigging” is a word
  By other folk than seamen heard)
    Has got a little loose; you need
    An overhaul, you do indeed.

  Your sails (or purchases?) should stay
  The stress—­and Press—­that on them weigh: 
    This constant playing to the gods
    Will scarcely weather blustering odds.

  In vain to blazon “London’s Heart”
  As figure-head, if thus you part
    Unseaworthy; in vain to boast
    Your “boom”—­a cranky boom at most.

  We rate you, we who pay your rates: 
  Beware the overhauling fates,
    Beware lest down you go at last
    The sport and puppet of the blast.

  I always voted you a bore,
  But never quite so much before
    Besought you with a frugal mind
    To sail not quite so near the wind.

* * * * *

MRS. R. AGAIN.—­To our excellent old lady, being convalescent, her niece was reading the news.  She commenced about the County Council, the first item in the report being headed, “An Articulated Skeleton.”  “Ah!” interrupted the good lady, “murder will out!  And where did they find the skeleton of the Articulated Clerk?”