Home Rule, by Grand Old G.,

Some Irish notes by A.J.B.,

A cheque from DILLON.

How useless now to think what might

Have been, for I have blacked the white!

It is not even fit to write

A washing-bill on!

CHURCH AND BOOTH.—The Archbishop of CANTERBURY was recently a guest at the Munching House on the occasion of an Undenominational Banquet. His Grace, in a post-prandial speech, observed that the Salvation Army came "fluting" among us, but he thought that the Army's success would be as "fleeting" as it was "fluting." Neat this for his Grace-after-dinner. This was a nice after-dinner way of giving "caviare to the General." No "laughter" appears to have followed, so the caviare was not generally taken.

LITERARY NOTE AND QUERY.—First volume of Tacitus translated into English by A.W. QUILL. Judging from a review in the Times of this instalment, it is the work of neither a soft nor hard Quill, but a medium Quill. With such a suggestive name, this author will show himself a Goose Quill if he does not at once turn his attention to the History of PENN.

LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

The Bobolink, Henley.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

The Election at Sheepsdoor being regarded as a "moral" for our Candidate—(what a delightful change from the im-moral way in which elections used to be conducted!)—I felt it was safe for me to wing my flight to fresh scenes and pastures new!—not that I wanted any "new pastures," having been a grass-widow for some time;—but having had enough of the "rolling billow"—(by the way, the rolling "Billow" at Stockbridge didn't roll fast enough)—I yearned for the silvery smoothness of Father Thames, so started for Henley with my faithful Eulalie—(I really must change her name, it sounds like a Swiss jödel); but, oh! my goodness!—talk about billows—the Channel passage is a fool to what we found at Henley! Waves mountain high!—(This of course is an exaggeration, but I've read it so often in sea-novels, that I've almost come to believe it possible—it would be nearer the truth, as dear Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM would pronounce it, I fancy—waves "mounting high.") I had to sit all day on the roof of the Bobolink, with a lifebelt or something round my waist!—and having made me acquaintance of a sweet youth who could swim, I implored him not to leave me!—and he didn't—the whole day long. Ah! he was very nice!—I need not tell you I didn't notice the racing much, but I did take an interest in two of the contests; viz.—(I don't know what "viz." means—but I do know I am using it correctly)—The Diamond Sculls, and The Ladies' Challenge. The Diamonds were walked off, or rowed off to Holland—(great place, I'm told, for diamonds)—by Mr. K. OOMS (who evidently "kooms" of an athletic stock), amid the generous cheers of our defeated Englishmen! The other—and naturally, from its title, the most important event—was competed for by two boat-loads from Cambridge University—Crews, I believe, they call them, but I always thought it was a sign of contempt to allude to any party of people as "a crew." However that may be, I was informed that "First Trinity had carried off the Ladies!" (just as if they were a pack of Sabine women), and I suppose it was true; though, in counting up the Ladies in sight, I only missed one—and she, I found, had fallen into the river, and been gallantly rescued by a spectator, who, I presume, was determined to have his share, in spite of the First Trinity Men!

Back to town, after all was over on Thursday, to find everybody wild with "election fever." A large group surrounding the "tape" at the Club (I belong to the "Amazon," of course), and ordering lemon squashes when a seat was lost, and whiskey and seltzer when the reverse was the case! Oh, this Election! Thank goodness, I'm off to Newmarket, to spend the week with Sir NEWMAN and Lady GATESHEAD, with a distinct feeling of relief at getting back to business after this fortnight of exciting relaxation!

Next week's racing furnishes quite a lengthy menu, with several attractive entrées, and some good "made-up-overnight" dishes; in fact, a programme which appeals strongly to every racy palate. I do not propose to work my way through the entire menu (not being an Alderman), and will only hint at a few of the side-dishes, which may be worth attention reserving my great effort for the "plat de résistance" at Sandown; so, at Newmarket—try just a mouthful of July Handicap à la Duke of DEVONSHIRE's "Selected;" should it choke you, have a pat on the "Bach" when attacking the Beaufort Stakes; and to wind up with dessert, worthy of a CHESTERFIELD, take a "Meddler." If this conglomeration of good things is not too much for you, travel back to town in time for the great race of the week; but, if upset, don't blame,

Yours devotedly,
LADY GAY.

"Eclipse Stakes Selection."

OPERATIC NOTES.

Fancy Sketch for a Brazen Statue of a Composer notable for his "Horns and Brass."

Tuesday.—Première of Elaine. BEMBERG Composer, LÉON-JEHIN Conductor, and Sir DRURIOLANUS Producer. Full House, determined to give New Opera a fair hearing, and sit it out. Don't get a new Opera every day. Congratulations to BEMBERG in a general way. "In a first Opera" (if this be his first), to quote the Composer of the recent De-La-ra-Boom Buddha, who was complacently listening to the other Composer's new Opera, "originality breeds contempt." So a little bit here, and a little bit there, here a bit, and there a bit, and everywhere a bit, gets rid of all superfluity in the Composer's brain, and saves the listening critic much trouble. Then his next Opera—Ah!—that ought to be all genuinely new and original Sparkling BEMBERG Cabinet. "Elaine," observed a lady critic, "is graceful and airy"—which, in the lady's presence, the present listener was not prepared to deny.

Contented must have been Composer BEMBERG with such a cast as was made and provided for him by Sir DRURIOLANUS. MELBA, as the "Lily Maid of Astolat," charming, with a charming song, "L'Amour est pur." The audience was in an encoring humour, but, thank goodness, only a few encores were taken, and the others left, otherwise none of us would have been home till sunrise. In the swan-like dying scene the Composer wrings our heart-strings with his harp-strings, reminding everyone forcibly that, as Mr. Guppy observed, "There are chords!" Wagnerian, sometimes, is our BEMBERG, with his horns and brass. Fine chorus at beginning of Act II.—the Tournament Act—which shows, as a foolish person observed, "a Rummy lot at Camelot." At end of Third Act MELBA and JEAN DE RESZKÉ (who must have joined the Salvation Army, as he was, apparently, "saving himself" all the evening) were enthusiastically called. Engaged in curtseying her thanks, MELBA didn't