CHAMBERLAIN at Birmingham. "They toil not, neither do they spin," he said, furtively wiping away a tear; "nevertheless, they seem made for each other's company."

"A Fantasy of Disordered Imagination."

The Right Hon. Gentleman will take his turn next week, and a report is current in interested quarters, that he as gone into training under the personal direction of Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT and Mr. JOHN MORLEY, who assist to support him whilst he rehearses his speech. This is a fantasy of disordered imagination. Mr. G. is in splendid form, spoiling for a fight.

A trustworthy Correspondent informs us that, owing to accidental displacement of his notes, a telling point was omitted from Lord SALISBURY's first speech at Birmingham. It was intended to come in at the passage where the PREMIER boldly flouted apprehension, of Ministerial disaster at the General Election. He had meant to cite Mr. JACKSON's appointment as conclusive proof that the Government would exist at least up to the year 1900.

"SHAKSPEARE," he should have said, "has written, 'a tanner will last you nine year,' and of course the duration of the Government will be co-incidental with the prolongation of the term of our Financial Secretary to the Treasury, withdrawn from commercial pursuits at Leeds."

HERR VON DER BLOWITZOWN-TROMP has some interesting reminiscences of the lamented Baron MAC HINERY. "When he was appointed Legate at the Court of the Isle of Man," writes the great historian of our times, "he dined with me in passing through Nanterre. It was the very day the Marquis DE MOULIN had been elected Pompier. The other guests were, His Excellency the CON OF CRIM TARTARY, Prince ALLEZ-VOUS-EN, His Excellency the VICUNA of BRAZIL, the SANDWICH AMBASSADOR, the DOGE of VENICE, and the Baron MUNCHAUSEN, who was a kind of amateur partner of mine, in whom I had much confidence—I always left him with my day's correspondence ready to be committed to paper. In the course of the dinner a stupid garçon, handing the ice round, dropped a small piece down the back of the neck of the DOGE of VENICE. With great presence of mind Baron MUNCHAUSEN seized the poker (which fortunately happened to be in the fire), and, with inimitable dexterity, passed the red-hot brand between the DOGE's shirt-collar and his neck, and, deftly touching the piece of ice, melted it. It was an awkward moment. The canned lobster was just served, but no one thought of eating it. The CON of CRIM TARTARY turning to Baron MAC HINERY, said,—

"You, my Lord, who are disinterested in this matter, tell us what you think of it."

"I think," replied the Baron, with admirable sangfroid, "his Highness the DOGE would have felt better if the ice had been warmer, and the poker cooler."

Everybody laughed. The DOGE and Baron MUNCHAUSEN shook hands, and the dinner ended gaily.

RYMOND, writing lui-même with too infrequent pen, makes pathetic reference to the death of "one of the largest and best known purveyors of Rhine wine, with whom I have had business relations and personal intercourse for nearly thirty years." There is, we need hardly say, no basis for the insinuation thrown out by HENED that the business relations referred to were of the commission order sometimes established between purveyors of Rhine and other wines and gentlemen who have a wide circle of friends.

THEORY AND PRACTICE.

SCENE—Interior of a First-class Railway Carriage. Theoretical Passenger and Practical Passenger discussing the "Unreadiness of England."

Theoretical Passenger (at the conclusion of a long account of the national shortcomings). Yes, my dear Sir, France has only to declare war to-morrow, and we are completely ruined! We cease to exist as a nation!

Practical Passenger (with a smile). But hasn't this been said about us—by ourselves—for any number of years?

Theo. Pas. Doubtless, but that does not make it the less true.

Prac. Pas. Possibly; still, it is encouraging to find that we do exist in spite of the "temptation to belong to other nations."

Theo. Pas. (annoyed). Ah! you treat the matter with levity; but I assure you it is a most serious thing! How would you like to be bombarded?

Prac. Pas. Not at all. The more especially as it would be a great expense to the enemy.

Theo. Pas. (with dignified resentment). I see you consider the subject a proper topic for raillery! It is a very fine day!

Prac. Pas. (in a conciliatory tone). No, no, I can assure you I am deeply interested. But how about our Fleet—surely that should protect us?

Theo. Pas. You must be very much behind the age to say so. Our Fleet is practically valueless. It is perfectly easy to invade us at a dozen places. If the French went to Ireland (as they did in the last century), the conquest of England would be assured. They would (with the assistance of a friendly peasantry), get their supplies and make good their footing.

Prac. Pas. But how about our Army?

Theo. Pas. A farce! An expensive farce. We have no Regulars, the Militia exists only on paper, and the Volunteers are valueless.

Prac. Pas. Then why not have a Conscription—that would bring up our Army with a run?

Theo. Pas. A Conscription! My dear Sir, the nation wouldn't think of such a thing! No, not for a single moment!

Prac. Pas. (after a pause). Well, what is to be done?

Theo. Pas. (promptly). Nothing, except to write to the papers and submit to our fate.

Prac. Pas. Is there any objection to the construction of the Channel Tunnel?

Theo. Pas. (carelessly). None in the least—but why do you ask?

Prac. Pas. Because, if in the case of war, the entire French nation pours into England;—as you say it will?

Theo. Pas. Certainly.

Prac. Pas. The best thing we can do is to utilise the Tunnel, pour into France, and stay there! It will be only changing sides!

[Conversation interrupted by whistle, and consequent rattle and darkness.

THE SPHINX AND THE STICK.

A Song wherein is suggested a suitable Subject for an Ibsenite Tragedy.

[Sir JAMES CRICHTON-BROWNE thinks that "the reserve and suppression of emotional movement which is observed in English people" will probably result in all the women becoming sphinxes, and all the men sticks.]