["In consequence of the rumour that,...  American stocks
    declined heavily....  The rumour proved totally without
    foundation.”—­Any Money-article; any day.]

[Illustration]

  There is little that goads us with fiercer despair
  (Those who buy, you perpend, stock, debenture or share,
  Such as speculate mainly; investors are rare—­)
  Than this growl ill-conditioned of pestilent Bear!

  With a craftiness planned and a malice unfair,
  Improvising a scare unsubstantial as air—­
  Now it’s “war,” now “disease,” and the world must prepare
  For the death of, say, GOULD, or a Chilian flare;

  Or the “cutting of rates:”  I am quite unaware
  What it means, I declare, but it’s “cutting,” I swear,
  To a person like me, not a flush millionaire
  Who must “realise” scrip,—­and the canker of care.

  It would seem, we could e’er so conveniently spare
  From a world too competitive, blarneyed with blare,
  Both the Yankee of Wall-Street, his London confrere,
  And all criers of “Lost!” when no losses are there;

  All the wreckers, whose lair is secure past compare,
  All who batten on bones with a maw debonair,
  And the carcase of Poverty torture and tear
  With historical fraud, and benevolent glare.

  Who will join me in sport that is novel—­who’ll dare
  In his prosperous pit to go baiting the “Bear,”
  Who will lead him a dance, who his talons will pare,
  And make summary work of this ursine affair?

* * * * *

“MUST IT COME TO THIS?”

    SCENE—­The War Office.  Present Mr. STANHOPE; to him enter
    Inspector-General PUNCH.

Mr. Stanhope.  Ah, Sir, glad to see you.  Can I do anything for you?

Inspector-General.  Well, not for me—­but you may and must do something for those I represent—­the Volunteer Officers.

Mr. Stan. Oh, you have come about them, have you?  Well, you saw what I said about them in my Memorandum the other day?

In.-Gen. I noticed what you did not say—­you hoped during the present year to see some practical proposals.

Mr. Stan. Well, what do you want more?

In.-Gen. The proposals themselves.

Mr. Stan. They will come in good time.

In.-Gen. No time in this matter will be good—­except the present.

Mr. Stan. Oh, you leave it to me, you will see it will be all right.

In.-Gen. No—­unless you attend to the matter at once—­now—­at this moment.

Mr. Stan. How you do take me up!  What a hurry you are in!

In.-Gen. Shilly-shallying to the rear—­action to the front.  Now, then, produce your proposals.

Mr. Stan. (reluctantly producing a paper from a pigeon-hole).  Well, here they are—­(giving them)—­what do you think of them?