Chorus.

  Sich a smart man too!  Sich a very smart man! 
  No orty scorn, no “arm-cheer” affectation! 
    One as somehow made yer feel
    ’E alone knowed ’ow to deal
  With Allotments, Taxes and Free Edgercation!

  ’E chose to play at hodd man hout;
    ’E ain’t the fust by many
  Wot’s tried to Tommy-Dodd the rout
    With a two-’eaded penny. 
  It’s broke our trust; ’e can go ’ome
    With Toffdom for next neighbour.
  ’E won’t cut Capital’s cockscomb
    In the ‘Oly Cause o’ Labour!

Chorus.

  Sich a snide man too!  Sich a very snide man! 
  And now,—­but that’s ’is hartful affectation! 
    ’E would like to make hus feel
    As he only “plays genteel,”
  To give Toffs a Demmycratic Hedgercation!

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

House of Commons, Monday, March 7.—­JOKIM in a bad way to-night.  People are wanting to know how it has come about that TATE’s offer of L80,000 for Picture Gallery, with L80,000 worth of pictures thrown in to start it, has, after long correspondence with CHANCELLOR OF EXCHEQUER, been withdrawn.  JOKIM rises to explain.

“What I should really like to do,” he whispered to me, in confidence, “is to give him one for his tete, as we say in cribbage.  But suppose I must speak him fair.”  Did his best in that direction though undercurrent of observation in lengthy paper he read decidedly set in direction of making TATE out as a cantankerous wrong-headed person who, proposing to bestow some L160,000 in way of free gift, expected to have his wishes consulted in such matter of detail as selection of site for Gallery.

“I venture to hope,” said JOKIM, in conclusion, “that the door is not finally closed on the establishment of a gallery for British Art.”

[Illustration:  Young Father Dillwyn.]

“That’s not quite it,” said Young Father DILLWYN, with hand to ear, listening from corner seat below Gangway he shares with that other eminent statesman, the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE’S GATE.  “What we complain of is, that you have so managed matters that the door hasn’t been opened.”

“Ah, well,” said JOKIM, wringing his hands, “it’s no use my trying anything.  Remember once seeing in dock of police-court at Lyons, a sailor brought up charged with some offence.  On his arm was tattooed the legend, ‘Pas de chance.’  He told long story of honest endeavour, combined with strict honesty and tireless industry, ever frustrated by malign accident.  In short, he was no sooner out of prison than he was sent back upon fresh conviction.  He had no chance, and one time, in enforced retirement from the world, he indelibly inscribed the legend on his forearm. Moi aussi, je n’ai pas de chance. Ever since I joined this Government things have gone wrong with me, whether in Budget Schemes, when acting as Deputy Leader of the House, with L1 notes, and now in this affair, where I run my head against TATE (sort of tete-a-tete), and, though I’m innocent as a lamb, everybody will have it that I’ve muddled things and lost the nation a munificent gift. Pas de chance; cher Toby; pas de chance!”