In.-Gen. (after a hurried perusal).  Humph!  At any rate let them he published at once, that those interested may be able to come to an immediate decision as to their utility.  Do you hear, Sir?  Adieu! [Exit.

    (And if the SECRETARY of STATE for WAR is a wise man, he
    will act upon the hint thus offered him.)

* * * * *

[Illustration:  GRAND OLD ENERGY.

[It is stated that Mr. GLADSTONE feels very much the want of exercise since his return to Parliamentary duties.]]

* * * * *

DREAMS.

[Mr. JOHN MORLEY having said that he would be sorry for the country whose young men ceased to dream dreams, Lord RANDOLPH CHURCHILL twitted him with having described the Progressive party as young men who dream dreams, and added, “They are words which I will never let die.”]

  Dreams, my dear Lord?  Well, there are dreams and dreams,
  Are those of BURNS much worse than those of WEMYSS? 
  Are WESTMINSTER’s vain visions, though mature
  The dreamer, less absurd or more obscure
  Than those of some “young man” who dares to hope
  That he with crowded London’s ills can cope? 
  “Behold this dreamer cometh!” So of old
  The sons of JACOB, envious, scornful, cold,
  And fearful for their privilege of birth
  And of possession, in derisive mirth,
  Cried at young JOSEPH’s coming.  A “young man,”
  O reverend oracle!  Yet his wit outran,
  His wisdom far outsoared, for all their boast,
  The nous collective of the elder host;
  And PHARAOH, when his “wise men” vainly schemed,
  Found statesmanship in a young man who dreamed. 
  You will not let them die?  Well, as you list! 
  The words, Sir, with a Machiavellian twist,
  Tickle the ears of those smart word-fence blinds,
  And garbled catch-words win unwary minds,
  And, maybe, witless votes.  Poor London dreams
  Of—­many things most horrible to WEMYSS! 
  The nightmare-incubus of old abuse
  Propertied privilege, expense profuse
  Of many lives for one, the dead-hand’s grip
  On the slow generations, the sharp whip
  Of a compulsory poverty, the gloom
  Of that high-rated den, miscalled a Home! 
  All these it knows, and many miseries more,
  And dreams of—­Betterment!  You’ll “never let die. 
  JOHN MORLEY’s words?” You cannot, though you try. 
  In vain ’gainst dreaming youth you feign to scream,
  Because you’re yet a Young Man—­and you Dream!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  VERY LITERAL.

The Major.  “NO DOUBT YOU’RE VERY FOND OF ANTIQUES, MISS EUGENIA?”

Miss Eugenia.  “OH YES, INDEED!—­AND I’M DEVOTED TO GRANDMAMMA!”]

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.