carn't see any beauty in balloon-skirts? Reglar rot!

I'm a-pinin' for it, Polly, wich in course, my dear, I mean

That convenient, cleanly cover-all, wot's called the Crinerline!

It hides so much, my Polly; wich I'm sure, my dear, you'll twig!

As dear Lady June informs hus, the too-little or too-big,

The scraggy and the crummy ones, the lanky 'uns and the lumps,

Will be grateful for a fashion as is kind to bones and 'umps.

Eel-skin skirts may suit the swells, dear, and the straight, and slim, and tall,

And—well, them whose wardrobe's plentiful; they don't suit me at all;

Wich I'm four-foot-ten and stoutish, as to you is well beknown;

I'm a bit short in the legs like, my limbs do not run to bone.

Now my purse won't run to petticuts and cetrer hevery week,

As a pound a month won't do it. Ho! it's like their blessed cheek,

Missis John Strange Winter's Ammyzons as Lady June remarks—

To swear Crinerline is "ojus," dear, and 'idjous. 'Twill be larks

To see them a wearin 'ooped-skirts, as in course they're bound to do,

When they fair become the fashion. Yus, for all their bubbaroo.

The seving thousand Leaguers, and their Leader will cave in,

And wear wot now they swear is jest a shame, dear, and a sin.

I do not care a snap wot the opinion of the men is,

Nor yet for the hesthetecks, nor the toffs as play at Tennis;

I sez 'Ooped Skirts for hever! This Strange Winter's out o' tune,

I prefers the Summer, Polly, wich I mean dear Lady June.

Anti-Crinerline be jiggered! I've got one dear mother wore,

Though the steels is a bit twisted, and the stuff a trifle tore,

I can fake it up, when Fashion gives the watch-word, I've no doubt,

And I ony wish 'twould come, dear, with my first fine Sunday hout.

Drat these sniffy snapping Leaguers! Ho! they fancy they're high-tone,

But I'll give 'em the straight griffin. Leave our petticuts alone!

They may take it from me, Polly, they'll soon drop their bloomin' banner,

If all women show the sperrit of,

Cue for Kennington (especially after the smart seconding of the Address in the Lower House).—"Mark—Beaufoy!"

An Example of a "Suspensory Bill" would be a small account from your haberdasher's for a pair of braces.

THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.

A Story in Scenes.

Scene VI.—The Dining-room, as before. Lord Strathsporran is still endeavouring to grasp the situation.

Lord Strath. (to himself). Don't want to make a fuss, but I suppose I ought to do something. Good little chap, my host—didn't like to tell me I'd made a mistake; but his wife's a downright vixen. Better make it right with her. (To Mrs. Tid.). I—I'm afraid I ought to have found out long before this what an intruder you must consider me; but your husband——.

Mrs. Tid. Pray say no more. Mr. Tidmarsh chose to act on his own responsibility, and of course I must put up with the consequences.

Lord Strath. (to himself). It's hard lines to have to leave Marjory like this; but this is more than I can——(Aloud.) After that, of course I can only offer to relieve you of my presence as soon as——

Mrs. Tid. (horrified). Not for worlds! I can't have my party broken up now. I insist on your staying. I—I have no complaint to make of your conduct—so far!

Lord Strath. Very kind of you to say so. (To himself.) Pleasant woman this! But I don't care—I will stay and see this out; it's too late to go in to the Cartouches now, and I won't leave Marjory till——(Aloud.) Miss Seaton—Marjory—I'm in a most awfully difficult position—do let me tell you about it!

Miss Seaton (penitently). Oh, Douglas, I—I know—I heard.... I'm so sorry—I mean, I'm so glad! Please forgive me for treating you as I did!

Lord Strath. You did let me have it pretty straight, didn't you, Marjory? But, of course, you thought me am impudent cad for calmly coming in to dinner uninvited like this—and no wonder!

Miss Seaton (to herself). He doesn't know the worst—and he shan't, if I can help it! (Aloud.) It doesn't matter what I thought—I—I don't think it now. And—and—do tell me all you can about yourself!

[They converse with recovered confidence.

Uncle Gab. (to himself). For all the notice that stuck-up young swell takes of me, I might be a block of wood! I'll make him listen to me. (Aloud.) Ahem! My Lord, I've just been telling my niece here the latest scandal in high-life. I daresay your Lordship has heard of that titled but brainless young profligate, the Marquis of Manx?

Lord Strath. Manx? Oh, yes—know him well—sort of relation of mine. Never heard a word against him, though!

Uncle Gab. (in confusion). Oh, I—I beg your Lordship's pardon—I wasn't aware. No doubt I got the name wrong.

"Let me advise you to be very careful."

Lord Strath. Ah—or the facts. Great mistake to repeat these things—don't you think? Generally lies.

[He resumes his conversation with Miss S.

Uncle Gab. (nettled). It's all very well for you to stand up for your order, my Lord; but it's right I should tell you that the Country doesn't mean to tolerate that den of thieves and land-grabbers—I need hardly say I refer to the House of Lords—much longer! We're determined to sweep them from the face of the earth. I say so, as the—ah—mouthpiece of a large and influential majority of earnest and enlightened Englishmen!

Lord Strath. (to himself). Fancy the mouthpiece has had quite enough champagne! (Aloud.) My dear Sir, you can begin sweeping to-morrow, so far as I am concerned. I'm no politician.

Uncle Gab. (warming). No politician! And yet you sit in the Upper House as one of our hereditary legislators, obstructing the will of the People! Do you mean to tell me there's no incongruity in that!

[Consternation among the company.

Lord Strath. A good deal, I daresay, if I sat there—only I don't—haven't had the honour of being elected at present.

Mrs. Tid. (hastily). He means he—he has other things to do, Uncle—don't excite yourself so! (To Lord S. in a whisper.) You're only exposing yourself by talking of what you know nothing about. Surely you know that Peers aren't elected!

Lord Strath. I was under the