same time exclaiming that honesty and perseverance in humble life were always worthy of commendation. The cabman is said to have been much moved. In these democratic days, such instances of princely condescension are not without value.

We are requested by the Earl of C-v-ntr-y to state that he is sick to death of the whole business, and has eliminated the word "enclosure" from every dictionary he has been able to lay his hands on. He had intended at first to admit nobody, but was overruled, and he cannot, therefore, hold himself responsible for the presence of various people who seemed to think that they ought to be treated like unseasonable strawberries, first forced, then exhibited, and then swallowed.

An amusing incident is reported from the remote frontier village of Pusterwitz in Moldavia. A cobbler who had manufactured the boots of the Burgomaster ventured to submit his bill for payment. The populace, infuriated by this insult to their beloved Magistrate, after binding the offender in calf at the local publishing office, proceeded to slice him into small pieces with their schneide-messers (the native knife), to the immense delight of a crowd of peasants from the surrounding districts. The Burgomaster was much touched by this proof of popular devotion.

Going Too Fast.—M. Alexandre Jacques, who is announced as "a rival to Succi," is at this moment dispensing with food at the Royal Aquarium. He intends carrying out this self-denying programme for two days beyond a couple of score—possibly as a proof of his fortitude or (as a Cockney would pronounce the word) "forty-two'd." The last time this talented person dispensed with sustenance, was in Edinburgh, when he did not partake of any meal in the Douglas Hotel for thirty days—a feat, one would think, that must have been more interesting to the Medical Profession than the proprietor of the hostelry. However, as M. Jacques fought for his country in 1870-71, he should be a most pleasant guest for the next six weeks or so to dinner-givers with a taste for economy.

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

House of Commons, Monday, June 16.—"This is something like old times," said Tim Healy, briskly rubbing his hands. "Poor Joseph Gillis! pity he didn't live to see this night."

At Bay.

Very like old times, indeed. Seventy questions on the paper, increased fourfold by others put arising out of the answer. Practice is for Irish Members to put question; Prince Arthur reads answer from manuscript supplied from Irish Office; then uprise in succession half-a-dozen other Irish Members, each asking fresh question. Prince Arthur with one leg crossed over other and hand to chin sits looking and listening; presently when there is lull, lounges up to table and makes answer. Fergusson looks on in wonder. "What would become of me," he said, "supposing after I had read out my cut-and-dried answer, half-a-dozen fellows sprang on my back, and with fists in my face demanded reply to quite new question. I'm afraid I'd be lost."

That exceedingly probable. Fergusson's floundering when momentarily adrift from sheet-anchor of his written reply decidedly painful. Prince Arthur saunters up to very mouth of guns of battery opened on him from Irish camp; looks straight down them; fires his shot; and saunters back; often a nasty shot, too; plumps in middle of camp and sets them all a roaring. This takes place every night. To-night lasted an hour. Once threatened repetition of scenes of decade after '74. Would have so happened but for tact and presence of mind of Speaker; cool and collected amid the clash of arms and roar of constant cannonading. John Dillon standing with folded arms and flashing eyes, "Like Napoleon when he couldn't cross the Alps," said Nicholas Wood, looking on from a safe distance.

The Speaker also on his feet with stern cry of "Order! Order!" Long John O'Connor sitting on Bench below, darting straight up and down, with swift regular movement, for all the world like the piston of a steam-engine. Ministerialists bellowing in continuous roar at John Dillon, still on his feet; uprises John O'Connor with intent to offer observation; roar redoubled; reaches demoniac proportions; John O'Connor plops down again; noise partially subsides; suddenly the piston discovered bolt upright; another roar; down it goes; all the while the Speaker crying aloud for "Order!" and John Dillon standing with fiercer frown and arms more tightly folded.

"What was it Napoleon said when he couldn't cross the Alps?" Nicholas whispered, tremulously. "'If the Alps won't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the Alps.' No, I don't think it was quite that; but was something to that effect; and I'm sure something will happen if Dillon doesn't sit down."

Just when matters reaching crisis, Dillon gave way; the piston on the bench below simultaneously ceased its action; and the Speaker, in quiet, grave tones, that had immediately soothing effect, suggested that, if any more information was required, it should be sought in the usual way, by Questions placed on the Paper. Johnston o' Ballykilbeg, who had overheard Gill incidentally allude to Prince Arthur as prone to untruth, wanted the Speaker to take notice of irregularity. But Speaker judiciously deaf. As for John O'Connor, glad of a little rest.

"All I wanted, Toby," he explained, "was to hurl the word 'Crime' in Balfour's teeth."

"Exactly," I said; "nothing more natural or desirable. But you should tone down the tendency towards the steam-engine-piston action, for which, I do not deny, you possess some natural advantages."

Business done.—In Committee on Compensation Bill.

Tuesday.—"What's this I hear about Heligoland?" says Nicholas Wood. Hardly knew him; so changed. A dull, heavy look faded over his usually mobile countenance; his svelte figure puffed out, and bent. "Only fortnight ago, Sage of Queen Anne's Gate proposed to give up Heligoland; barter it for a case of German Sausages, says he. Fergusson very properly angry; me and other good Tories protested against this new Separatist policy. Couldn't find Heligoland on the map."

"Ha!" I say, "but Germany has found it, and taken it, and the Markiss is willin'."

"Very odd," says Nicholas; "can't make it out; like a thing out of a play; never go to a play, you know, but understand this sort of thing is somehow done: first you see it, then you don't; Heligoland British territory; to be sacrificed only