Hat, with motto, "Sub Tegmine Fag-I!"

8. Portraits of Eminent "Sitters" on Fourth of June and Election Saturday in the early part of present century.

9. Scull of a "Wet-Bob" originally feathered.

10. A copy (perfect and signed) of another boy's verses. (N.B. Not very scarce.)

11. Portraits of eminent Landlords who, acting on SHERIDAN's advice, have "kept up the Xtopher."

12. Also, portrait, with life and times of the crabbed old Thames Waterman, known on the river as "Surly HALL."

[Any future suggestions that maybe sent to us will be entirely at the service of the Duke of FIFE and others, interested in promoting this most interesting exhibition.]

A PUBLISHER AND HIS FRIENDS.—In order to worthily celebrate the hearty reception, by the critics and the public generally, of this most interesting and successful work, the present representatives of the great publishing firm of MURRAY will give a grand banquet, and, with SMILES, will sing in chorus the once popular refrain, "We are a Murray family, we are, we are, we are!" Prosit!

TO THOSE IT MAY CONCERN.—In reply to several Correspondents, Mr. Punch begs to suggest that ANTHONY TROLLOPE would certainly have observed, "I say Yes!" had he been told that WILKIE COLLINS had written "I Say No!"

THE WAY OF WESTMINSTER.

(A Story of the Parliamentary Bar.)

"You will not forget, Sir," said my excellent and admirable clerk, "that to-morrow you have to appear before a Committee of the House of Commons, in the matter of the Glogsweller Railway Extension?"

I glanced somewhat severely at PORTINGTON, but was gratified to find that his face was quite free from any suggestion of levity. I was the more pleased with the result of my investigation, as, truth to tell, the delivery of a brief in the matter of the Extension of the Glogsweller Railway Company had been somewhat of an event in my life. I had never before had the honour of practising at the Parliamentary Bar. So for months my mind had been entirely occupied with the date fixed for my appearance in the Committee Room of the House of Commons, known technically, I believe, at St. Stephens, as "upstairs."

"You will be sure to meet me there, to-morrow, PORTINGTON?" I observed.

"Certainly, Sir," replied my clerk. "But, as I have to be down at the Mayor's Court with Mr. CHARLES O'MULLIGAN in the morning, I daresay you won't mind if I come with your sandwiches and sherry, Sir, at two, or thereabouts."

I acquiesced, somewhat unwillingly. O'MULLIGAN shares with me the good offices of PORTINGTON, but generally contrives to secure the lion's portion of his services. I had arranged—understanding that no adjournment was made for luncheon—that some refreshment should be conveyed to me during the day's proceedings, so that my voice should lose none of its wonted resonance (owing to famine-produced weakness) when the time arrived for my advocacy of the cause of my clients. Those clients had, so to speak, but a collateral interest in the day's proceedings. The great North-East Diddlesex Railway were promoting a Bill to carry a new line into the neighbourhood of the Glogsweller Extension, and my duty was confined to cross-examining one of the expert witnesses that I knew would be asked to support the G.N.E.D.R. To be candid, we had a goods depôt near their suggested terminus, and were fearful that their proposed proximity would damage our mineral traffic. The matter was simple enough, but I had taken months in carefully studying a small library of charts, Encyclopædias, and Parliamentary Blue Books, in mastering it.

On the morning following my conversation with PORTINGTON, duly robed (I had put on my wig and gown in Chambers), I travelled by hansom to Westminster, and presented myself at the side entrance to St. Stephen's Hall. I had no difficulty in finding the Committee Room devoted to the consideration of the alleged necessities of the Great North-East Diddlesex Railway. It was a large and pleasant apartment, with a distant view through the windows of St. Thomas's Hospital. At a horse-shoe table sat the Committee, some four or five gentlemen, who might have filled equally appropriately any one of the pews reserved in the Royal Courts for the accommodation of a Special Jury. I took my place amongst a number of my learned brethren, who were perfect strangers to me. The table in front of us was littered with plans, charts, and documents of all descriptions. A Q.C. brought with him a large bag of buns, and two cups of custard, and there were other refreshments mingled with the exhibits before us. On chairs at the side were Solicitors; at our back, separated from us by a bar, were the Public. On the walls were hanging huge charts, giving in pantomimic proportions the proposed progress of the projected line. In the corners of these charts were explanations why such a part was coloured green, or red, or blue. During the day's proceedings an attendant was told off to trace the course of a counsel's harangue by pointing out, with a lecturer's wand, the various places referred to in his speech.

I was gratified to find that the expert whose evidence it was my duty to test by cross-examination, was soon in the witness-box. He was a gentleman of considerable bulk, which gave one of my learned friends, who was the first to take him in hand, the opportunity of saying, that he was a "witness of great weight," a remark which caused much laughter—even the Chairman of the Committee, a somewhat austere person, indulging in a stealthy smile at the ingenious sally. Such waggish flashes as this, I need scarcely say, were most welcome, and afforded, when they came, a pleasant relief to the necessary dryness that characterised, perforce, the proceedings. As the hands of the clock progressed, waiters carried into the Committee, various light refreshments, such as brandy-and-sodawater, sandwiches, and buns. My colleagues, too, when not actively engaged in the declamatory duties of their profession, partook of the viands with which they had provided themselves before the commencement of the day's labours. Thus the cups devoted to custard soon were empty, and the paper bags, once occupied by buns, crumpled up and discarded. I gazed at the clock. It was past two, and I was getting terribly hungry. I felt that my voice was becoming weak from famine. This would never do, and might endanger my clients' interests. I looked round eagerly for PORTINGTON. He was nowhere to be seen. I whispered to a colleague, "would the examination-in-chief last much longer?" and was told it could not possibly be concluded within a quarter of an hour. I made up my mind to hasten to a refreshment-bar I had seen in the corridor before I had entered the room, and hurriedly left my seat. I pushed my way through the public, and had scarcely got outside when I found my faithful clerk laden with sandwiches and sherry making post-haste towards me.

"Get back, Sir, as quick as you can," he cried, as he thrust the invigorating ingredients of my midday meal into my hands; "run, Sir, run; I hope they haven't noticed your absence!"

Rather offended at the peremptory tone adopted by my subordinate I returned to my seat, and was pleased to find that the examination-in-chief was nearly ended. I pulled myself together. I drank a glass of sherry and finished a sandwich. My voice was in excellent tone, and I felt that the crisis of my life had indeed been reached. I knew that it was now or never. I had this great chance of distinguishing myself by pleasing my clients and securing a practice at the Parliamentary Bar, which might mean hundreds, nay, thousands a-year. I