Reiter,
  Snuffs the air proudly; with his nose a-cock
  Steps JOE DE BRUM, and, steady as a rock,
  Strides forth Chief CECIL! 
  Hail the beaten band,
  You Grand, and grey-haired, Old Campaigning Hand;
  For you have seen good fighting, and you know
  Game foemen when you see them.  Conquest’s glow
  Mantles that pallid cheek.  After long strain,
  Victory at last is yours, nor all in vain,
  Perchance, although its fruits precarious be. 
  What you will do with it, we wait to see. 
  Meanwhile you’ll own the foes you’ve put to rout. 
  With all war’s honours unashamed march out.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  SO MATTER-OF-FACT.

Jones (who prides himself on his French).  “DESOLE, MON CHER, NOT TO BE ABLE TO ACCEPT YOUR HOSPITALITY, BUT TO-NIGHT I AM DINING EN VILLE.”

Brown (who is so matter-of-fact, and never will understand Jones’s French).  “DINING ‘ON VEAL,’ ARE YOU?  WELL, THERE’S NOT MUCH DIFFERENCE; IF YOU COME TO ME, YOU’LL HAVE A LEG O’ MUTTON!”]

* * * * *

MAKE IT HOT.—­Dean KITCHIN says that one of his reasons for voting for the Gladstonians is that he is “a warm Liberal.”  Quite so.  A cold KITCHIN would be a contradiction in terms.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  MEMBERS WE SHALL MISS.

F.A.  Hankey.  Sir H. Tyler.  M.W.  Mattinson.  J. Bazley White.  J. Stack.  The Bruce.  T.L.  Bristowe.  Hermon-Hodge.  Alfred Giles.  J. Woodhead.  Baron Dimsdale.  T. Milvain.]

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

House of Commons, Thursday, August 4.—­New Parliament met to-day in great force.  Ambition stirs noble minds in different ways.  Some embark on Parliamentary life with determination to outshine BRIGHT or GLADSTONE in field of oratory.  Others will not be pacified till they emulate PITT.  Others again aim at the lofty pedestal on which stands through the ages the man who is first in his place, on first day, of first Session, of new Parliament.  Exciting race to-day.  At night, both BIGWOOD and SPENCER (not BOBBY, who has affairs of graver State to look to just now) sailed in together.  At a quarter to ten SAVORY turned up, sermon in hand, and found he was forestalled.

“What, MOORE of them!” cried SAVORY.  “The bane of my life.”

“Yes,” said LOGAN, arriving a few minutes later; “wherever there’s one SAVORY you’re sure to find MOORE, and in this case they precede you.”

Six minutes later DIXON-HARTLAND arrived, mopping his forehead.  When he found others on spot, pretended he’d only looked in accidentally.  “Passing by, you know; thought I’d see how old place looked.”  But it wouldn’t do.  Other men, especially BIGWOOD, saw through it all.  Then DIXON HARTLAND grew anecdotal.  Told fabulous story about imaginary Scotch Member, who, at opening of Parliament of 1880, brought down his plaid, a stoup of whiskey, and a thimbleful of oatmeal.  Camped out all night in Palace Yard, and staggered into House as soon as doors were opened.