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THE CANADIAN "SEARCH-LIGHT."

THE COQUETTE OF THE PERIOD.

PROVERBIAL PRAYER FOR A PAUPER-HATING BUMBLE.—Give me neither poverty nor Ritchies!

A CREDITABLE INCIDENT IN THE NEXT WAR.

(An Advance Sheet from Mr. Punch's Prophetic History of Europe.)

["Italy is bound to maintain abroad the appearance of a great and rich country, while at home she ought to conduct herself as if in straitened circumstances."—Daily Paper.]

The Italian Army had been completely victorious. There was but one drawback to the entire satisfaction of the Commander-in-Chief—one of his favourite Generals was under arrest, and was being tried by court-martial. The accused had refused the assistance of Counsel, and had insisted upon pleading "Guilty."

"But," urged the Commander-in-Chief, "you surely have some excuse. To sack a private house belonging to your own countryman was unpardonable. It was an aimless piece of Vandalism! For your own reputation—for the sake of your ancestors—on behalf of your descendants—some explanation should be afforded."

"Surely this is no time for levity," murmured a Warrior-Journalist, who was suspected of combining with the duties of a hero the labours of a Special Correspondent for a Roman journal.

"Do I look like a jester?" asked the Prisoner; and then he added, "My brave companions, it is for the honour of our country—to conceal her poverty from the sneers of foreigners—that I carry with me the secret of my action to the family vault. Press me no further—see, I am ready for the firing-party!"

There was nothing further to be said, and the little procession made its way to the Barrack Square. The Prisoner shook hands warmly with his Judges, and with the weeping soldiery who were to act as his executioners. "I will give the words of command myself. Ready—present—"

"Stop!"

An aged man had approached the group. He was out of breath with running. The firing-party paused, and lowered their rifles.

"Do not listen to him!" shouted the Accused. "And if he will not desist, shoot him too—shoot us both."

"You exceed your duties, Sirrah," said the Commander-in-Chief, with some severity—for discipline was strict in the Italian Army. "It is for me to command, not you!" The Prisoner lowered his head at the just reproof, and then his superior officer continued, "Why do you ask us to desist?"

"Because the Prisoner is innocent. He acted from the best of motives. I was the proprietor of the shop he sacked, and I (for, after all, I am a patriot) demand his pardon!"

"You!" exclaimed the Commander-in-Chief. "Surely you ought to be the last to urge such a plea. We do not know what your shop contained, but presume that the contents was your property."

"You are right in the presumption," acquiesced the aged man; "but these documents will show that he was right, from a military point of view, to sack my shop."

The Commander-in-Chief hastily glanced at the papers, and with a thrill of pleasure, ordered his favourite General to be released.

"This mystery must never be revealed," he murmured. And it never would, had not the hero-journalist printed the story. Thus it was that the tale became international property. Now it is known all the world over that the General sacked a shop to obtain the arms and accoutrements of the Italian Army. But it is still (comparatively) a secret that the proprietor of the establishment carried on on the premises the business of a pawnbroker!

COMPULSORY GREEK;

OR, BYRON UP TO DATE.

(A British Boy's View on a Burning Question.)