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Last Friday there appeared a startling paragraph, announcing the first appearance of a New Island. Appropriately, it was on the face of The Globe. The intelligence came to us viâ Marseilles. Did it come up to the surface ready furnished for occupation, as in our second National Anthem about "Britons never being slaves" Britain is described as doing? The quotation is:—"When Britain first at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main," (or words to that effect), She (the Island) came up with a ready-made charter, and was open to be taken furnished. If this is the case, with the new Island, the sooner some parties "who won't be missed" pack off, bag and baggage, and take possession of the property, the better. It's a chance. "Island to Let. Ready furnished. Quite ready for occupation when thoroughly dry. No Agents need apply. Ground-Swell Landlord, Neptune, C. district."

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

(Modern Political Version, a long way after Marlowe.)]

THE NYMPH'S REPLY.

A LOST OPPORTUNITY.—During a recent cause célèbre in the Divorce Court the petitioner was asked by Sir CHARLES RUSSELL, Q.C., M.P., P.T.P.C., "Did he do anything?" to which the reply was, "He took up a salt-cellar and threw the contents in my face." Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P., V.P.T.P.C. has been lamenting ever since that he could not have appeared as amicus curiæ to point out that this testimony, until flatly contradicted, "must be taken as primâ facie evidence of a salting her."

CHRISTMAS NUMBERS.

After a Very Old Nursery Model.

"WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST."—No. 5.

WHEN, AFTER LUNCHING SUMPTUOUSLY AT A STRANGE HOTEL IN A STRANGE PART OF THE COUNTRY, IT SUDDENLY OCCURS TO HIM THAT HE HAS LEFT HIS PURSE, WITH ALL HIS MONEY IN IT, IN THE MAIL TRAIN GOING NORTH.

ILLEGAL FICTIONS.

SCENE—Interior of a Publisher's Office, shortly after the trial of Pinnock v. Chapman and Hall.

Publisher. We have given our best attention to your Manuscript of a three-volumed novel, called—let me see, what did you call it? Oh, yes, here it is!—called, Haunted by Sixteen Goblins, and we are afraid it won't do.

Literary Aspirant (pained). Won't do!

Pub. (calmly). No. Won't do a bit—at least, not in its present form. You see, you introduce a Pirate Chief, named Captain WILDFIRE, who lives at Singapore, and who murders the mate, the steward, five seamen, and all the Passengers of the Jolly Seamew, the vessel that he commands, and appropriates five million dollars belonging to his employers, the vessel's owners.

Lit. Asp. Quite so. I thought those incidents would be rather exciting. They're so new. Do you object to the murders, or what?

Pub. Oh, dear no! But now this name, Captain WILDFIRE. (Suspiciously.) Are you sure there is nobody whose name is at all like it, and who also resides at Singapore?

Lit. Asp. I took the name quite by chance. I've never been near Singapore in my life.

Pub. (relieved). Glad to hear it. One has to be so careful nowadays. Here's an Army List—let us see if anybody called WILDFIRE figures in it. Ha! What's this! "Major WILDMAN, 217th Hussars." (Gazes at Lit. Aspirant sternly.) Is your Captain WILDFIRE intended as a caricature of Major WILDMAN, Sir, or is it not?

Lit. Asp. (astonished). Why, of course not! I never heard of the man.

Pub. Very likely not. We should hear of him precious soon if we published your novel as it stands.

Lit. Asp. But what reason is there to suppose this Major WILDMAN has ever been to Singapore? And how can a captain of a merchantship like the Jolly Seamew be confused with a Major in the Army who has never commanded a vessel in his life?

Pub. (doggedly). All