Brigade and the Light Cavalry?

Old Father Thames is still rather dirty. We often hear of "The Thames Basin." Why doesn't Father Thames use it,—with soap? What a chance here for a P**rs' advertisement.

FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.

"Just make it a Couple of Shillings, Captain dear!"—"No!" "Eighteenpence then, Major!"—"No!"

"Och thin, Colonel darling, just Threppence for a Glass o' Whiskey!"—"No, I tell you!"

"Git out wid ye thin, ye Boa Conshthructor, sure an' I know'd ye all the toime!"

[N.B.—The Fare is the Head of an eminent Firm of Furriers in Kilconan Street, and cultivates a martial appearance.]

A BIG LION AMONG THE LITTLE 'UNS.

"Daniel in the Lions' Den" will occur to many on reading how Henry Irving ventured into and actually dined as the distinguished guest of a society styling itself "The Playgoers' Club." But after all, whether these were real leonine cubs, or only "lions stuffed with straw," the Real Lion of the evening was the Daniel come to Judgment, Henry Irving, who, having partaken of the "chicken and champagne," and acknowledged the goodness thereof, gave them the less smooth side of his own tongue with charming frankness.

"I do not hesitate to tell you," purred the Lion, sweetly, "that there have been times when the genius of frankness which possesses the Club"—he did not allude to the existence among them of any other sort of genius—"has not appeared to be allied with the finest discrimination. (Laughter.)"

Yes—the poor little Lions laughed—it was all they could do, unless they had whimpered, and promised not to offend again. It must have been a delightful evening. To what other banquets will our leading Histrion be invited? To the Pittites' Club Dinner? To the Wreckers' Banquet? Will he be entertained by the Dissentient Gallery-Boys' Club, and finish up with a supper strictly confined to the upper Circles' Society? Instead of "Give your orders, Gents—the Waiter's in the room!" of old days, the Chairman will probably advise the enterprising Playgoers to "Ask for 'orders,' Gents—the Manager's in the room." However, if these heaven-born dramatic critics occasionally hear a few words of good advice from so honest a guest as Henry Irving, such gatherings may perhaps serve some useful purpose.

Gladstone's Aside on the Irish Members.

Very Bad Drainage.—Because the London School Board built schools with defective drainage, the London Ratepayers are to be mulcted in £250,000. A nice drain this on our pockets!

THE POLITE SPEAKER.

(Intended for the use of courteous Members of Parliament.)

Question. I trust you quite acknowledge that strong language is absolutely unnecessary in Westminster?

Answer. Quite, especially when a compensating description can be found for every suitable term of abuse.

Q. You grasp the idea. How would you describe Nero fiddling during the burning of Rome?

A. I should say that he was a musician with a turn for pleasing variations.

Q. Very good. And how would you speak of Guy Faux on the eve of blowing up the House of Commons?

A. An experimentalist who would have been a useful lecturer upon chemistry at the Royal Institution.

Q. And could you refer to Blue Beard after the discovery of the cause of his last widowerhood without giving offence?

A. Yes; as a married man who objected on principle to the Mormon practice of being wedded to more than one wife at a time.

Q. Yes. And what would you say of Marie de Medicis, who is reported to have fired at the Huguenots from the Louvre?

A. I should say that her late Majesty took such an interest in field sports, as nowadays would have secured her election to the Gun Club.

Q. And, lastly, were you asked to describe Henry the Eighth after he had slaughtered most of his wives, plundered all the monasteries, and imprisoned or executed many of his subjects, what would you call him?

A. Without hesitation I should refer to him as "an excited politician."

"Continuous-Sounding Machines."—Lots of 'em on view in the House of Commons. But, for the genuine article, consult a "Colomb" of the Times.

"I love those cradle-songs," said Mrs. R. "The other day I heard—I forget who it was—sing a most charming alibi."

A LULLABY.

Nurse G. (sings). "'O HUSH THEE, MY BABY,

TAKE REST WHILE YOU MAY'"——

(To himself.) "AND NOW I MUST GO AND LOOK AFTER THE OTHERS!"

TO SERAPHINE.